COD Fics:

Tough Nights

kyle gaz garrick x reader

a/n: i just want to hold him and comfort him tbh so have this- this been sitting in my drafts forr weeks sooo whoops- hope ya'll have a good christmas♡

gaz feels his whole body drop, causing him to jerk up, eyes flying open, grabbing onto anything closest to him. his hearts pounding, he feels like he can't breathe- it's dark. why is it dark? it's quiet. why is it quiet?

but every time he closes his eyes and tries to breathe in, all he can see is the world upside down, the rush of cars flying past him, the smell of gunpowder and dust. it's all a blur. gaz can hear the muffled words of nikolai, the distant sound of gunfire and holy fuck he was falling- there was a truck coming at him-

"kyle?" a sweet clear voice calls to him, and when he opens his eyes, there's a soft warm light. "babe?"

"y/n?" he rasps, still trying to catch his breath. he realizes where he is. what he's doing. one of his hands was clenched onto the headboard, while the other was fisted into a pillow next to him.

you shift next to him, gently reaching out to touch his arm that was closest, the one that was grasping the wooden headboard. unbeknownst to you, it dumps kyle with a wave of relief. that he isn't hanging from the damn helicopter. that he isn't alone.

but he can't get out've it. "i- i can't- i don't know-" he gasps breathless. he knows he's home. with you. he can feel your gentle touch, he can smell you, see you look at him with such softness it floods him with love- but he just can't escape that moment.

"shh, that's alright baby, breathe." you hush, carefully removing the pillow behind him, you take it's place and lean your body against him. resting your cheek against his shoulder, wrapping one arm around his front, placing your hand over his heart, letting the other slip between you both to rub his back. your legs locked on either side of him "take your time, baby. m'right here." you murmer against his heated skin. gently breathing in and out, holding him.

your body is cool against his heated clammmy skin, steady breaths a stark contrast to his shaky ones. but everytime you smooth your palm up his back and back down, he finds himself falling into a rythem of breathing in and out in sync. letting the rise and fall of your chest guide him. the weight of your body against him wraps around him like a safety net.

when you can start to feel the tension in his body relax, his arms now limp at his side, slowly, you start to lean back, slipping your other arm to his front, holding him close all the while whispering, "i gotchu baby. i got you." you relax against the headboard, his hand reaching up to cover yours that had been over his heart.

you're nuzzling the side of his head, as his other hand reaches up to cup the back of your head. his head turns, seeing you resting yours on his shoulder. he's not just looking at you, but he's absorbing every detail of your face. it's not one that's judging or calculated, not one that makes you feel like you're being picked apart. the way he looks at you makes you feel like it's just you two in the whole world.

he stares at you like you're his saving grace. the answer to his prayers. an angel sent down to protect him. brown eyes soaking you in like it's his first time seeing you. it's a comfort to him as he looks at you, allowing you to fill his senses, to ground him, to remind him that he's with you and not falling.

yet guilt knaws at him. he feels selfish. greedy. a burden. that he's sure you'd be better off without him.

"kyle." your voice is sterner and your face is tense, fuck he know he's messed up- then you're cupping his face, leaning forward to brush away his tears, shit. he had been crying? "kyle. talk to me, love." you murmer, lips brushing his cheek, hands holding him. "kyle, my love-"

"you don't deserve this. i don't deserve you-" he chokes out, when he tries to turn away, you hold still, turning him to look at you but his eyes are cast down, tears falling from his lashes, "i-i don't-"

"kyle stop. look at me. please, kyle look at me." when he does he's met with a soft smile on your face, "why do you say this? hm? tell me."

"you shouldn't have to be with someone that's riddled with- whatever the fuck is wrong with me. someone who's home to hold you every night. who isn't gone for weeks and months." it all comes out. insecurities that had been burrowed deep down, that come out all because of a stupid memory. he's alive- he knows he's alive, yet there was a slim chance that he could've been coming home to you in a wooden box and he tells you.

he doesn't know what he expected you to do. to cuss him out? yell at him? claim that he's right and leave? now that thought had his heart hammering. but you do none of that. you listen to him. hold him like he's your lifeline. and to you he is. you catch his tears with tip of your fingers. stare at him with no judgement but a softness and gentleness that has him trembling.

"i could die on the feild and leave you-"

"leave me? kyle you would die but you would never leave me." your word have his brows furrowing, "you'ld be with me every second, every breath i take, you'ld be with me. you could die, yes. i know that. but the memory of you could never go. each and every one so important to me, from the way you like your tea, to the way you laugh at the dumbest jokes,"

"i would never trade you for someone simply because there are days you aren't here. every moment we spend together is so fulfilling that i know i could never experience the same with another person." before he could turn away to hide the flush of his skin, you're capturing his chin, looking at him with a steady gaze.

"there is nothing wrong with you. do you understand? what you go through my love, i could never fault you for how you react to it now." you murmer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

all the while he stares at you with such softness and vulnerability that you knew you could never find in another. as if you needed any other when all you needed was here in your arms.

"i love you." he says, voice tender. "fuck. i love you. will always love you."

"always?" there's a slight tease in your tone.

he nods. "always."

"i love you kyle." you say, wiping away the last of his tears. "will always love you."

"always?" he whispers as you drape your arms over him, holding, touching, while he does his best to do it back.

as you nuzzle into his shoulder, you respond, "unfortunately." he feels your smile against his skin, while he turns to nip your exposed ear, smiling at the small squeal that releases from you. he's quick to kiss where he nipped. trailing a line of kisses till your turning to look at him. "always." you confirm, a grin falling on his face before your lips meet.

Kat

masterlist; simon “ghost” riley

updated: I’ve put them in order of time if you want to read them that way.

just practice

simon eats you out for the first time.

your first christmas

simon is hurting and takes it out on you.

patient

simon comes home to find a joint in your apartment, something that reminds him of the past.

candied ginger

simon starts touching you on the way home from the grocery store.

nightmare

simon accidentally hurts you after having a nightmare.

a relationship with simon is far from easy

you and simon have a fight.

soft ramblings over tea

you and simon share tea the night before he leaves.

against the wall

simon finds himself wanting to give you a baby.

it’s safe here

simon says “I love you” for the first time.

surprising ghost with a pregnancy

...you surprise ghost with a pregnancy

merry christmas, lieutenant

soap runs into his lieutenant off-duty and meets the girl he has been keeping a secret (you).

buckshot

simon teaches you how to shoot so you can protect the family.

soft around the edges

ghost’s son runs up to him in front of the team.

uncle johnny

soap and ghost stay at your home for the night.

drabbles:

TLC from simon

anniversary

your son has a tantrum

ghost + your son's teddy bear

ghost's daughter runs up to him

your native language

domesticity turns him on

all dad!ghost here

au where ghost d*es here

reblog if you’re okay with people writing fanfics of your fanfics and/or fanfics inspired by your fanfics

have this thing I wrote in a flash of pure, unadulterated love for Jason that I felt while doing my hair routine after my shower. never needed a fictional guy more in all my life and honestly this may be my personal favorite thing I’ve ever written.

Thinking about domesticity with Jason Todd. Building a home with him, a life. How ever so gradually mine and yours becomes ours.

You’re brushing your teeth one morning and decide to try out his toothpaste, the one he always buys from the bodega down the block owned by the little abuelita that loves him to death. It’s fresh and it’s minty and you swear it leaves your teeth whiter than the brand name stuff you buy, so you let your tube get used up and never buy toothpaste again. Jason, without question, simply starts buying it twice as often as usual.

You’re fresh from the shower together after a night off for both of you. You’re warm and you’re happy and you’re both so in love it almost hurts. You watch enraptured as he towel dries his hair, roughly scrunching the water from his inky curls. You don’t like how he lacks gentleness with himself, so you take the towel from him and gesture for him to lean down. Ever obedient to you, Jason complies and smiles softly as you dry his hair for him. You think suddenly that while his curls are always soft to the touch, they could do with being a bit more defined. They tend to get really frizzy and poofy by the end of the day. So you grab your curl cream and gel and just absentmindedly do your own routine on him. He raises his eyebrow in question only to quickly relent when he realizes it means you’re playing with his hair for longer. Your hunch is right; once his hair dries, his curls are so pretty you think you could get lost in the waves of them. Jason’s just happy cause now his hair smells like you.

The only clothes Jason has that are his now is his Red Hood gear. The rest of his closet has quickly become co-owned by you. His brain never fails to short circuit when you walk out in his hoodies, or his sweatpants, or his t-shirts, or his boxers. There’s not one piece of his civilian clothing that hasn’t been on both of your bodies at this point. Sometimes seeing you in his clothes has Jason blushing and his heart pounding with how much he loves you, how grateful he is to have this life with you. Other times seeing you in his clothes has him calculating the fastest way he can get them all off of you. You’re just disappointed that it can’t go both ways. But, alas, the struggles of having a massive boyfriend are that he’ll never be able to fit in your clothes. Whatever; it still does something for you when he finally wears the old Gotham Knights shirt that you’d stolen for months.

It’s also kind of funny sometimes. You two own a set of old, dark gray towels affectionately labeled “The Blood Towels”. The Blood Towels are only brought out after a really rough patrol or post-showering when you’re on your period. They came about after you’d nearly slipped while soaking wet from how quickly you’d tried to dry off to avoid bleeding on his good, fluffy towels. Jason just looked at you like you were a little ditzy, a flat “Do ya know how many times I’ve bled on these towels?” coming from his mouth. “I don’t care! I still don’t wanna ruin them!” you’d insisted. And thus, The Blood Towels were born.

Your bookshelf is never going to stop growing. You’ve actually had to go to IKEA more than once to get a larger one with how often you and Jay visit the old bookstore two blocks away from your apartment. Neither of you can resist a pretty cover, or a new annotated edition, or, heaven forbid, those rare, expensive first edition copies. At this point you’re not really sure which of the five copies of Pride and Prejudice first belonged to who, but really what does it matter when you’re both reading them anyways? And it’s always funny when you have to drag home a bigger bookshelf. You can never hold your laughter when Jason inevitably shouts “What the fuck! This wouldn’t be so goddamn hard if they actually gave you coherent instructions!” It’s also always nice to drag the old bookshelves to the apartment of the single mom downstairs whose kid loves reading. You both know she can barely afford the second hand books she gets him, so the shelves are happily given. You’re actually thinking of asking Jay if he’s willing to part with one of your first edition copies of Frankenstein for Christmas; the kid would freak.

All of this comes to a head with a cat. A big, fat, black cat that crawls up on your fire escape one night. You’d both been a little distracted–okay, a lot distracted by the feeling of being lost in each other's touch. You’d been making out for over an hour, just relishing in the intimacy of being together. It was definitely going to go somewhere until you heard the caterwauling of an animal outside your window. “The fuck is that?” Jason had asked as he pulled away from kissing bruises into your neck. “Sounds like a cat.” You’d begged, actually begged, Jason to let him stay. The next morning you came home with a grocery bag full of cat toys and bowls while Jason hauled a value-sized 40 pound bag of cat food on his shoulder. Atticus sits with you both while you watch TV now. Atticus still sometimes ruins the mood when he sees Jason sink his teeth into you and immediately swats his dad on the cheek. But Atticus is also undeniably your boy. And whatever, maybe you do start thinking about what Jason would look like with an actual baby in his arms when he’s cradling Atty as he shuffles around your home. But there’s time for that yet. You both know that. You know that beyond anything else, you’ll always have this life, this home together. It’s the best gift either of you have ever been given.

Hello Valiants!! I've been lurking and simply obsessed with your art and writing of them for a while and I was wondering if you have ever done a comic about how the rest of the team take ghostsoap's relationship? Or is it a secret? Ignore this if you have hehe

🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 Hmm maybe this or this Price one was close, but here's an update... (I think it's BARELY a secret)

“NOTHING’S GONNA HURT YOU BABY — jason todd.

PAIRING! jason todd 𝒙 fem!reader SYNOPSIS! your roommate is the menacing red hood — who just happens to have a soft spot for you WORD COUNT! 1.5k WARNINGS / TAGS! roommates jason & reader, cursing, smoking, mention of alcohol consumption, reader is described to wear makeup, use of petnames ( doll ) NOTES! i need a vigilante bf sb. based on this req.!! © ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

THERE IS A STARVED DOG IN THE BACK OF JASON TODD’S THROAT.

It keeps barking, baring its sharp canines at whoever dares to step too close to comfort. It isn’t afraid to bite, to leave permanent marks in its wake because it had been hurt once before and the past hadn’t been so kind. So, it rips things apart, shows its strength to intimidate. A mechanism to keep itself safe. To remain whole.

The dog craves violence and roughness to represent the image it once created. It also craves touch, and not the bittersweet one. The kind that aches to feel, the kind that feels undeserving.

Jason isn’t a violent dog. He doesn’t know why he bites.

He’s chaos wrapped in leather. He’s the rumble of a motorbike tearing down an empty street, the smell of gasoline and adrenaline falling behind him. He’s sharp edges and electricity, the lighting that splits the sky just before the rain comes down. He’s a storm caged in a human shell, unpredictable and restless. Jason is late nights bathed in neon lights and the rush of speed that makes your heart race. He’s fire and fury, a protective shield made of calluses and scars.

You, on the other hand, are the softness in a world that’s far too loud. You’re the quiet that follows the first snowfall, the kind that blankets the earth in white stillness. You’re the warmth of vanilla in a kitchen. You’re the calmness of a gentle breeze, the soft glow of a candle against the darkness. There’s nothing harsh about you; you’re delicate without being fragile, a sweetness that lasts long after you first taste it. You’re a handwritten note, a favorite song played on repeat, kindness that doesn’t ask for anything in return.

Where Jason is a storm, you’re the eye. He’s the clash of thunder, you’re the calmness that follows. He’s leather jackets and combat boots, you’re large sweaters and bare feet on fluffy carpet. He pushes the word back with his fists while you disarm it with your smile.

Maybe that’s why he has such a soft spot for you.

Jason’s large combat boots were heavy on the hardwood as he stepped through the apartment door. He didn’t use one of the windows tonight since he had the luxury to change out of his vigilante clothing. The brown leather jacket still hung from his broad shoulders, but all the other equipment that created the complete look of Red Hood was safely stashed under the stairs of your fire escape.

Red Hood was one side of Jason’s many personalities he tried to shield you from.

He was quiet, mindful of his steps. He avoided the creaking spot on the floor, and he avoided closing the door too roughly. He had told you one too many times that he could take a look at the things that just made your life annoyingly difficult, but you waved him off with sweet words and he obeyed like a man possessed. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for his liking but he shook it off. You were supposed to be out anyway, something about a party your friends dragged you at.

The faint scent of cigarettes hit him before the quiet breeze of the night air rusted the curtains, and Red Hood was instantly on alert. His fingers moved before his mind could even process the situation, feeling the sharpness of his blade tucked in the belf of his pants.

His legs followed, taking him toward the balcony door and stepping outside into the night. He expected anything: a stray cat wandering through various apartments on a hunt for leftovers or even a rookie thief trying to break in. But he didn’t expect you, sitting on a plastic chair with a cigarette between your lips. One his cigarettes.

There you were, knees pulled close to your chest, the heels of your feet digging into the cheap plastic so you wouldn’t fall.

Draped in one of his hoodies he forgot on the couch earlier, you looked like you were ready to call it a day. Still, impossibly beautiful even with that tired look in your eyes. You pulled the cigarette out, puffing a white swirl of smoke into the darkness.

Jason stepped closer, his tall frame easily towering over yours. “You wanna tell me what the fuck you’re doing out here?” The sight of you, your cheeks flushed with alcohol and your hair a little wild from the chill wind, tugged at something buried deep in his chest.

Your glassy eyes met his and your lips tugged into a beaming smile. “Hey, Jason,” you mumbled his name out like it was a melody you hadn’t quite learned yet. “You’re home.”

“Yeah, I’m home. And you’re drunk. Smoking my shit.”

“I stole it from your jacket’s pocket when I did the laundry. I figured you wouldn’t miss one,” you held up the cancer stick towards him, as if to say, ta-da! Look what I found.

You were holding a piece of him. He crouched in front of you, his gloved fingers gently plucking the cigarette from your hand before you could protest. “Smoking’s bad for you, you know. I guess I’m a bad influence for you,” he muttered while his thumb brushed over the filter, the bark of the dog in his throat quieting for a moment. There was a faint pink outline on the white paper. A mark of your lips.

You tilted your head, studying him like you were seeing him for the first time. “You could never be a bad influence.”

Jason didn’t answer right away. His jaw tightened as he put the cigarette against the railing, the faint hiss breaking the silence between you. Then, he flicked it over the edge of the railing, watching the embers spiral down into the darkness below. The city roared faintly beneath you, but here, on this tiny balcony, it was just the two of you.

“You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Like what?” your brows knitted into the frown he grew to adore.

“That I’m not a bad influence,” his lips twitched, caught between a smirk and something bittersweet. It was all a big joke to him; you didn’t know his true nature and yet here you were defending the man you thought you knew. The irony wasn’t lost on him. “You don’t know me as well as you think, doll.”

Tilting your head to the side, you gazed up at Jason like he hung the moon just for you. The look in your eyes softened. “I know enough, Jay. I know you’d rather jump off this balcony than let anything happen to me. I know you leave food for the stray cat, even though you complain how she’s too noisy at night. And I know that when you’re quiet like this,” you bumped your knee against his, trailing slightly into a quieter tone of your voice, “it’s because you’re hiding something.”

The dog inside Jason growled lowly, warning him to keep his guard up. To start building thicker walls around his bleeding heart. This would only end in tears and anguish. But you weren’t barking back. You held your heart in an open palm, extended toward him.

You leaned forward after a minute of his silence, hand brushing against his knee, and Jason stiffened. “You’re not mad, right? About the cigarette” you voiced your thoughts hesitantly.

Jason sighed, running a hand through the dark strands of his hair. “I should be. But seeing you out here like this . . . ” he trailed off, his eyes flickering over your face and cataloging every single detail. The flush on your cheeks and glass in your eyes. The aftermath of alcohol. “I can’t be mad. Just–don’t do it again, okay? You don’t need to mess with that shit.”

Your lips parted like you were about to argue, but then you closed them again, nodding slowly. Jason exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. He stood up, holding out a calloused hand to you. “Come on. Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold out here.”

You stared at his hand for a moment before slipping your smaller one into it. His grip was warm, steady, and for a fleeting moment, you wondered if he could feel the way your pulse quickened under his touch. He didn’t let go as he led you back into your shared apartment, the door clicking shut behind the two of you.

The dog in his chest stirred, restless and uneasy. It barked once, softly, a reminder of all the ways he could ruin this. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, his jaw tightening against the weight of it. The dog craved destruction, violence, and chaos—it had always craved those things. But now, as he watched you drunkenly lean into him, the dog hesitated.

It whimpered. Then it lay down, its teeth still bared but its growl silenced, if only for tonight. Because for the first time in a long time, Jason felt something strange, something almost unfamiliar.

It wasn’t the absence of violence or the dull ache of longing. It was the quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something in this world he didn’t have to break to keep.

let me shatter into you

— aka jason knows better than to let anyone get away with hurting you

———

your eyes trace the brown-yellow bruise forming on your wrist, the consequence of some asshole on the street too drunk to remember it isn’t polite to grab pretty girls. you would’ve let it go, really, it’s gotham, this kind of thing happens. unfortunately for the poor bastard, he had the misfortune of forgetting his sense in front of jason todd.

you try to hide the bruise before your boyfriend can see it, sliding the tarnished patch of skin under the sleeve of your jacket with haste— but he catches it anyways. of course he does. you can faintly see shocks of green lightning crackling in his ocean blue eyes, a precursor to the white hot rage stemming from his chest to the rest of his body.

you gently squeeze his arm, noting how tense the muscles in his bicep are. you know jason. you know he loves you differently— like you’re something fragile. he worships you, taking care of you like you’re a marble statue and he’s terrified of finding cracks. so something as small as a bruise, no matter how tiny or how minor, it makes him lose control.

he gently removes your hand from his arm, pressing a chaste kiss against your bruise. “why don’t you go back to that café, yeah? i’ll join you in a minute.” he says, looking down at you with a soft smile. if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think he’d completely gotten over the situation, happy as a clam.

but you do know him, and you know that the way his shoulders are tensed and his free hand is fisted in the pocket of his jacket means that he’s enraged.

“jay—“

he presses a soft kiss to your forehead, giving you a gentle smile. “please, baby. i don’t want you to see this.”

you should stop it. you should try. but he’s looking at you like that and your morals suddenly become incredibly loose. you hesitate, remembering the waves of repulsion you felt moments ago when that idiot bastard yanked you towards him. “just… don’t hurt him bad.”

jason nods, turning you around and guiding you forward, watching until you turn towards the cafe before he focuses his attention on the man, who is still too piss drunk to comprehend how badly he had fucked up. you hear jason before the door fully closes behind you, an echo of “so you think that’s how you should treat a woman?”

he’s terrifying. that drunk idiot must be terrified.

and he’s yours. scary dog privileges and all that. it makes you feel warm, safe, loved, protected— you’re irrevocably in love with that. with him.

he comes back in a few minutes, maybe fifteen? the wait stretched on for hours in your mind. his knuckles are bloody, but none of it is his. he cleans up in the bathroom before sliding next to you on the cushioned side of your half-booth, wrapping an arm and your shoulder, breathing you in like a man starved.

“he’s fine.” he says quietly, so only you can hear it. “just made sure he learned to keep his hands to himself.”

you close your eyes, leaning into him, into his warmth. you don’t say anything— you don’t have to, the way you bury yourself against him is admission enough. his arms wrap around you and the bruise fades back into your skin. your heart beats with more love than you thought it capable of producing, your chest swelling like it’s about to burst.

you press a gentle kiss against his chest and everything makes sense again.

———

it’s always when i say i’m not gonna write that inspiration strikes

call of duty masterlist - 01

02 mlist; 03 mlist; series mlist

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all works belong to tojisun. all forms of reposting are not permitted; please do not translate, copy, revise and/or refine my works.

short legend:

❦︎ - nsfw

last updated: march 22, 2024

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- SIMON (GHOST) RILEY

sweet like cinnamon

right to heaven ❦︎

like a sugar rush ❦

in his favourite sundress

how he loves

little marks - suggestive

forehead kisses

cigarettes n kisses

like a sugar venom

teasin touches

just you and me - suggestive

cinnamon on my teeth

young and in love

liquid velvet on your tongue ❦

break me softly

glinting in the dark ❦

claim me softly and carnally ❦

lazy mornings

missin’ you

gon’ wife ‘er up ❦ - fan fave

she said what?

dirty talking and promises ❦

pull out- ❦

holiday special!!

coming back to you

cherry waves

the hottest

remember his hands - p link!! ❦

still your passenger

how he fucks ❦

anniversary of an uninteresting event

needy needy ❦

dark signs

distraction

strumming for you

marry me?

how it must be to date him (visuals)

giggles and love makin - suggestive ❦

his kinks ❦

cuteness and shyness

so drunk of you ❦

drag me under

his beautiful worship ❦

show him how desperate you can be ❦

open for a threesome ❦

tall people things

your ‘boyfriend’ [simon’s heart eyes]

caging you in ❦

jewelled eyes ❦

teaching you how to shotgun ❦

his jealousy burns

more than friends, less than lovers (but it’s getting there)

- JOHN PRICE

my precious wife ❦

pick up truck? pick up truck!

lap sittin n thigh humpin ❦

pretty puppy

leather and choking - p link!! ❦

tracing his hand

his loving touch

work song (hozier)

you love it like this ❦

- KONIG

my little sparkle - 01, 02 ❦

little prey ❦

sweaters and crushes

how he claims - p link!! ❦

he loves you like this - semi-dark

the silliest

- VALERIA GARZA

nothing to lose

her pretty little gf

trophy wife

doing her makeup

my wife

- JOHNNY (SOAP) MACTAVISH

a little louder ❦

wrapped in me

cherry pics plz ❦

- KEEGAN P RUSS

his princess ❦

all his ❦

- ALEJANDRO VARGAS

he's missed you

- KYLE (GAZ) GARRICK

the kind one ❦

- MULTI (COD)

the honest man - konig vs. simon (ghost) riley ❦︎

your little scarlet - simon (ghost) riley & john price ❦︎

took your life away - alejandro vargas vs. valeria garza

sharing is caring - tf 141 ❦

warming ‘em up - konig/(ghost) riley/(soap) mactavish ❦

sugar and cookies and crushes - price & soap

the cuckolding of simon - ghost/keegan

so wet for us - ghost/price ❦

his command - poly!141; price x reader x simon ❦

and when he leaves, it will feel like death - open character

- MULTI (OTHER)

slice of cherry pie - toji fushiguro/simon (ghost) riley

white lines pretty daddy - toji fushiguro/simon (ghost) riley ❦︎

tight bf shirts <3 - ghost/soap/gojo ❦

bundling him up in your warmth - ghost/toji/aizawa

sharing is caring - toji/ghost - suggestive ❦

how big? - ghost/toji ❦

how they taste - ghost/toji ❦

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 this is a completed masterlist (i reached 100 links LMAO) so pls refer to 02 & 03 mlists for the rest of oneshots and the series mlist for ongoing works ^v^ ୨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹

am i the asshole?

"AITA for...?"

a series where tsukishima kei asks reddit users for their opinions on his problems.

warnings: english is not my first language so there may be some mistakes lol, you can read this as a stand alone or as a series, eventual smut????, fluff, angst, aged-up tsukki!

part 1 "AITA for pushing my best friend away?"

part 2 “AITA for asking my girlfriend to be quieter during a practice match?”

part 3 ""AITA for "stealing" photo booth pictures from my girlfriend?"

part 4 "AITA for telling my girlfriend I want to be with her for the rest of my life over the phone?"

part 5 "AITA for saying my 5-year anniverary is just another day, making my girlfriend mad?" “Hey Reddit, an update”

part 6 "AITA for telling my pregnant wife she should start wearing maternity clothes?"