#I should have stopped him but he was being too darn cute

[pumpkin-belly]

Naughty boy splatted me UP DA NOSE 😂

[pinkiemachine]

Kon x M'gann HC's Part 2 Pretty Please with All the Fixings?

Loving the story.

Alrighty! Part 2!

So, to start off, I’ll just ramble a bit more about M’gann and Kon’s dynamic, then finish up the story :) Also posting this again because I think it turned out SO GOSH DARN CUTE! X3 (P.S. listen to “Bewitched” or “Serendipity” by Laufy. I feel like it captures the ✨ vibes ✨)

So it’s no surprise, after reading part 1, that Kon’s biggest flaw is that he’s very immature. He can get pouty and possessive when M’gann is paying attention to someone else, or when she’s gone for a while. He’s also a bit of an attention seeker, and he loves compliments and positive reinforcement of any kind. The first time M’gann gave him a kiss on the cheek, his world changed forever. Pretty sure it took the other guys about five minutes to snap him out of it. But, thankfully, as the story goes on, Kon gets a crash-course in a lot of things, including curbing his immaturity. He learns that you’re not supposed to roughhouse with girls (unless they’re comfortable with that sort of thing, and even then, don’t hurt them—super-strength and all), and he learns that sometimes M’gann is gonna pay attention to other people or go away for a little while and that’s normal and he doesn’t need to be overly upset about it. (He still pouts and misses her, though. It can’t be helped.) But the thing that he still has a problem with, to this day, is being a bit too aggressive when it comes to defending M’gann. The first time they met another Martian who was horribly rude to her, Kon almost brought out the laser eyes! Like, that dude would have been dust in the wind if the other TT hadn’t stepped in. Kon just can’t stand the idea of anyone hating M’gann, and for such a superficial reason no less! She’s beautiful and should be treated like she’s beautiful! (His words, not mine :) Ultimately, Kon HAS to keep himself in check on that account or else he risks starting an interplanetary war, but boy it’s hard.

M’gann sometimes falls back on her old habits and becomes a “yes woman,” agreeing to everything Kon wants to do even if she secretly wants to do something else. Cassie and Steph are the first to take notice of this behaviour, and help teach her to say “no.” If she’s uncomfortable, Kon isn’t gonna realise it on his own unless she tells him. She’s got to learn to put her foot down on things or she’s gonna be miserable. So M’gann practises this and other types of conversation in front of her mirror at night, and the first time she ever said no to one of Kon’s ideas, she felt so proud of herself! She wouldn’t stop smiling for the whole day! Kon had no idea why she was so happy, but when she was happy, he was happy, so it was a good day all the way around.

The dates they like to go on involve taking long walks around Earth. Neither of them had ever seen an ocean before, so they went to go see the ocean. Neither of them had ever been to a cheese factory before, so they went to go see a cheese factory and got free cheese curds on the way out. Then they went to a real baseball game and ate real hotdogs—they went to a museum (which M’gann liked more than Kon did, but they made it fun in the end)—they went on hikes, marvelling at all the different types of trees and bushes and butterflies and spiders and ants and birds and they even spotted a deer in the distance—and all the while, they would take pictures. So. Many. Pictures. M’gann has this old-school Martian camera and puts photo albums together of all the stuff she and Conner do together, like they’re already an old married couple. lol. Then, of course, when both of them are too tired to go out anywhere, they curl up on the couch and watch some of those old sitcoms M’gann grew up on. M’gann’s favourite is “That Girl” and Kon’s is “Hogan’s Heroes.”

Okay, now I’ve thoroughly set up how much fun they had together, time to make it all come crumbling down.

In the last post I said that Kon kept M’gann’s secret about being a white Martian and her past from the NTT and the JLA, but there was one person he was obligated to tell: Lex Luthor. Being that he was secretly working for the bald maniac, and it was his job to report in with any new information he’d learned, he had no choice. Even when he tried to lie or exclude details, Luthor grew suspicious of him and forced the info out of him. So when the reveal of his betrayal happened, it was so much worse for M’gann. Lex used what he had learned to help take her down, and also create a rift between her and Kon, because he wasn’t supposed to be getting attached to M’gann anyway. Kon was ordered to forget about her because he was never going to see her ever again, and M’gann wanted to forget Kon for sharing her most sacred secret. Not to mention, he had been lying to her from the start about his past, about his intentions, and who knows what else. Had he been using her to get information about the Justice League? About her uncle? Yes, he had, and he wanted to tell M’gann that he was ashamed of what he had done, but Lex wouldn’t let them be in the same room, so M’gann was left to think all sorts of awful things about him. It was a dismal day. This event is covered in full in another post which I will link below.

Now, of course, this story has a happy ending (because happy endings are the best kind of endings). Lex is eventually defeated, Kon is freed from him and LexCorp, and for once he gets to call the shots in his life. The first is going to M’gann and trying to make things up to her in any way he can. Now, at this point, M’gann knows that Lex was twisting Kon’s arm to a certain extent, so her anger is a little softened, but she still feels like an idiot for trusting him so easily, and she’s nervous about trusting him again. He’s still such an immature person—who knows what kind of big mistake he’ll make next?

Kon plucks up his courage and makes a traditional Martian apology to her—the big ceremonial kind meant for state officials and royalty when they’ve severely messed up something BIG—and begs her to give him one more chance. He knows full well that he’s a bit of a dunce when it comes to girls and Earth culture and even being a good person (again, his words) but he wants to be a better friend, he wants to be a good hero, and more than anything else he wants to be the best boyfriend he could possibly be for her. When he was making his decision to finally stand up against Lex, he was afraid of what Lex would do to him… but then he thought of M’gann. He remembered how much she meant to him, and that Lex was planning on hurting her as a part of his evil scheme, and even if it meant Lex would go ahead and terminate him and make another clone, he didn’t care. M’gann mattered more. And she always would. So, with all of this before her, M’gann was quite stunned, to say the least. For a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Given the fact that Kon had partaken in much of Lex’s plan willingly, the JLA agreed that some form of punishment was only fair, so it had been decided that Kon would spend a year on the Kent farm, essentially doing community service by helping them with all the chores. He would be confined to the property during all of that time, too, so the two of them were going to spend the next year in different places. M’gann hesitantly answered Kon’s apology with a “Maybe… I could write to you… and we’ll see where it goes from there.”

Kon was so happy. He plowed through all his chores on the Kent farm each and every day—Ma and Pa, and sometimes Clark when he had the time—would teach him things and show him to do stuff, like carpentry. And then, every day he’d go and check the mailbox, waiting for a letter from M’gann, and when he’d get one, he’d race up to his room (Clark’s old room) and read it ten times over. Then he’d grab a paper and pen and write his response, filling her in on all the things that had happened on the farm the last week or so. They wrote to each other non-stop that year, eagerly, patiently waiting for Kon’s sentence to be up. And when it had been a full year, and Kon came back to the city and the NTT, he and M’gann went for a walk in the park, and without saying a word, they both knew… there was no one else they’d rather spend the rest of their life with.

(Then the picture is from a little party the gang threw in celebration of their victories over all their villains, including Lex, and everyone was encouraged to wear their home country’s traditional garb, and maybe even bring some traditional food or a traditional party game. It was a fun night, and M’gann and Conner got to see each other dressed up for the first time (probably. I haven’t written out each individual episode for the NTT yet, but I like to imagine this is the first time ☺️))

Part 1 👇

Kon’s backstory is included in this post… 👇

[aayakashii]

❤21 with Zenji please!

❤️21 writer's choice!

Being a ghost came with some habits that were quite hard to break. Kinda surprising though, how one could create new routines despite being dead. You’d think they’d become a still frame of who they were before, but no; apparently ghosts could very well develop new mannerisms much like a living person.

Zenji’s little habit was getting way too close to you.

He didn’t see the harm in it; it’s not like he could touch you at all. His presence had no weight to it and his words had no warm breath in them, so he would just enjoy the opportunity and lean over – talk to you barely a few centimeters away from your face and lay down next to you at night, inspecting every little pore of your face like you were a little rare specimen and he was an electronic microscope.

You tried telling him time and time again that he should give you a little bit of space, but he went on with some flowery and convoluted explanation as to why he just had to be close to you, and he took great pleasure in the fact that you couldn’t physically push him away.

Well, at least not until you found that little new pet of yours.

It seemed harmless, the little thing. It was like a much smaller version of a sheep. It had the size of a hedgehog, with a pitch black coat and piercing purple eyes. You had told Zenji you had found him (him?) at the woods, then taken him to Jabberwock to be properly attended to, but the darned little anomaly just wouldn’t leave your side. Isn’t Bopeep cute, though? (Bopeep? You had already named it?!)

Zenji fretted for a little while, as the anomaly slept on your shoulder.

“My dear! What if it is dangerous? We can never know when it comes to anomalies! What if it opens its mouth and sucks you into a black hole! Oh, the thought alone brings tears to my eyes!”

You laughed at Zenji’s worried speech as you pet the small head of the sheep anomaly.

“I talked to Haru about it, Zenji! He assured me Bopeep is human safe, but I have him on speed dial if anything weird happens.”

“I see!” he exclaimed, putting one hand over his chest in relief “So he knows the species of this new friend of yours?”

You nodded.

“Apparently it’s called a Duttur. He showed me a book about well-known anomalies, so I could read about it too, since I didn’t have all the beginner 1st year classes, after all.”

Zenji sighed dramatically and sat right beside you. The small yard besides your dorm was small but cozy, and you two had taken a liking to hanging out together in that calm, private place.

“That’s a relief! So I presume you read all about this new little friend of yours, yes?”

You grinned mischievously, nodding again.

“I read all about him and that’s exactly why I wanted to show him to you.”

Zenji tilted his head curiously as you scooted to the front of him, the sudden movement waking Bopeep up.

“Oops, sorry little guy.” you murmured apologetically to the miniature sheep before turning to Zenji. “Anyway, I read something about him and I had to make sure it was true. Stay still for a moment, please.”

The tall man straightened his back, still tilting his head as he had no idea what you were trying to do.

You had positioned yourself right in front of him. Both of you had your legs crossed, knees just a few millimeters apart. You swallowed hard as you raised a trembling hand towards Zenji. Despite the few seconds of hesitation, you mustered up the courage and went for his hands, folded on his lap.

You could feel the cold texture of his skin against your fingertips.

Smiling brightly and relieved, you turned to face Zenji, who couldn’t take his eyes off of your hand touching his. Mouth agape, he opened his palm and slowly intertwined his fingers with yours, feeling the cold sweat of your palms dampen his own.

He turned his head towards you, still in disbelief, despite the few tears that seemed well up in his eyes.

“My dear… How is this possible?” he murmured, voice hoarse.

You couldn’t stop smiling while you grabbed his other hand and held it tightly.

“Apparently Bopeep does have a little danger to him, after all. It allows humans to see and touch spirits and other entities like that” you snickered, “It’s pretty useful for someone who’s friends with a ghost, though, don’t you think?”

Zenji blinked, dumbfounded.

In a brief moment, however, he tackled you into a hug, harshly throwing you to the ground. He ended up tumbling onto the grass after phasing through you like he usually did.

“What?! Why?!” he cried out, frustrated.

You laughed at his outburst.

“I have to be touching Bopeep in order to be able to touch you too. If you knock him out of me, we won’t be able to touch.” you pointed at the small anomaly that was bleating in anger, after being thrown to its back on the grass, little legs struggling to turn itself upright.

“Oh! My apologies, my little sheep friend” Zenji exclaimed. He got up on his feet and went to help the anomaly, hesitating for a moment before holding it in his hands and looking ecstatic that he could touch it.

You rose as well, approaching the tall man.

“So... do you want to try hugging now?” you bashfully suggested, feet kicking the ground.

Zenj quickly turned his head towards you and, after carefully putting the anomaly on your shoulder, he circled his arms around you while you tightly hugged his waist, both sighing happily at the feeling of being in each other's arm.

He was much taller than you, so you had to rest your cheek against his broad chest, while he laid his on the top of your head. You could make out a faint scent of jasmine wafting off of his skin and clothes as you pressed closer to his body.

The absence of his heartbeat didn’t go unnoticed by you, but you could feel his deep breathing – his chest moved up and down slowly, a pace so comforting that made you sleepy, despite him not needing to breathe anymore – an unconscious habit he probably could never let go of, even after death.

And speaking of habits…

“You won’t be able to stay super close to me at all times now that we can touch, you know? That will be very disconcerting if you do” you said, voice muffled against him.

“No, no, my dear! You must know that old habits die hard!” he protested, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head and successfully messing up your hair.

You could feel the way he nuzzled his nose against you, shamelessly feeling the scent of your hair and sighing loud and happy.

You exhaled softly, relaxing in his arms despite his stubborn words. You were willing to let that be a little problem for later.

Right now, you just wanted to stay close to the one person you so desperately wanted to touch.

Writer's notes:

Duttur: Mesopotamian sheep goddess best known as the mother of Dumuzid. She frequently appears in texts mourning his death, either on her own or alongside Geshtinanna and Inanna.

Bopeep: comes from the nursery rhyme Little Bo Peep:

Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep,

And doesn't know where to find them;

Leave them alone, and they'll come home,

Wagging (bringing) their tails behind them.

I honestly just wanted to give the anomaly I made up a cute name like Peekaboo lol

p.s.: if anyone decides to draw Bopeep by any chance, please tag me 😭

Full masterlist

[gillsng]

treacle tarts & failed dates - harry j.potter

a/n: hello! this is something i wrote awhile ago, and it was during 3am and never saw it again, so there are mistakes! so please don't mind them </3 AND i imagine this fic takes place after the war but u can imagine as a muggle au too!

summary: after yet another failed date, harry is at his bestfriend, y/n's home and y/n makes treacle tarts. then a sudden realisation hits harry.

word count: 600- ish?

hope u like it <3

𓈒 ﹒ ☆ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ ࣭

“I just don't get it!,” Harry says as he continues his rants— Harry had yet another failed date with a barista who worked in a café that he regularly went to. The barista was cute. He even had dimples when he smiled that made Harry lose his mind. “He could've just said that he is not interested! He could've just said that he had eyes on someone else! Instead he said it when we were on a date!”

“First of all, Harry, You should stop going on dates with every person you think is pretty!” Y/N's voice echoed from the kitchen. She was doing— cooking something that Harry is not supposed to know. “..being attracted to them and liking them are different...” Y/N continued on.

Harry suddenly smelled the scent of treacle tarts and his legs automatically stood up and he made his way to the kitchen.

Harry watches Y/N while she takes out the treacle tarts out of the oven— still not noticing Harry's presence in the kitchen as she still seemed to be talking about something but Harry can't focus on what she's talking about right now. All that mattered to Harry right now was the freshly baked treacle tarts and—

“Harry, are you even listening to me?” Y/N asked, facing him with a stern look on her face. One look of her and Harry had chills. He suddenly found the ceiling interesting.

“Harry Potter! Look at me while I am talking! Honestly I don't even know how Mione and Ron handle you all day!” Y/N complaints. Then suddenly Harry feels warm hands cupping his cheeks.

Y/N connected the two's foreheads and says so softly that he feels like he might— “Look, Harry, I know whatever this barista guy did—”

“ Xavier,” Harry interrupted.

“Whatever this Xavier did is completely unfair and he should not have done that! At the same time, It hurts me to see you heartbroken every two weeks!” She continues. Well, that part was true. He is going on dates with every pretty person he sees and they seem to reject him or he does not like them that way. In short, it has not been going well.

And after his (failed) dates, he goes to Y/N's place and pretty much spills it all out. (He also goes there because Y/N is pretty darn good at making treacle tarts) (also because Ron and Hermione can't handle a mourning Harry).

Harry tries to listen to Y/N. But somehow, his focus is on the flour that is on her cheek, he wants to remove it so bad. His focus then drifts to Y/N's eyes which were filled with concern and was also mesmerising. Oh god, what did he just think?

There was nothing wrong in that statement. Y/N L/N is beyond beautiful both inside and outside. Harry was now thinking something he would never mention because—

Nope, He thinks to himself aggressively. Don't. If he thinks that once, Harry will be long gone and there would be no returning back.

“Now, Harry, bring the treacle tarts will you? I will be putting on the TV so we can continue the muggle show we were watching, yeah?” Y/N asks, concluding her speech which Harry might not have listened to. Harry nodded and Y/N smiled back at him.

Y/N left the room after planting a small kiss on Harry's cheek. And Harry might've blushed. There is no avoiding the thought now.

Harry is definitely falling in love with his best friend, Y/N L/N.

[miueo]

repost ︐ stupid girl — pub. 100623

warnings : spankings , acedemic shaming , degrading , dumbification , etc .

pairings : tutor!minho ♡ student!reader

note : i deleted my previous acct due to the fact i was posting my writings underneath a secondary blog ! i am not stealing anyone’s work, this is my writing.

never in your life, you'd thought you'd be bent over your tutor’s lap in his room, earning yourself a spanking. what could you have done to deserve this?!

“you look so stupid. absolutely fucking dumb. what made you think you could successfully cheat on your test??” minho lands a hard slap on your left ass cheek before switching to the next.

“is my help not enough for you? Are you that much of a stupid girl to fail to comprehend my help?” he grits his teeth, yanking your hair back as he continues to spank your cheeks.

you wail and cry. you've never felt so embarrassed. what should you do now? you're already getting humiliated and scolded by your tutor, and not only that your grades have fluctuated!

“i-im sorry.. minnie it wasn't my intention to cheat.. you see-” your little excuse was cut off by the sound of your cute strawberry pattern panties being torn off your little plush ass. you wanted to protest and ask what he’s doing but you fear he’ll stop.

silly you wanted more. though, you and him would spend hours studying and studying and studying, you enjoyed the offtime activities with minho. whenever you guys aren’t studying, he’d be rewarding you by rearranging your guts and torturing you with his long, thick cock and his fingers.

minho adored you, he loved how dumb you were. who doesn’t want a ditzy little girl like you?

“you’re so cute all spread out over my lap like this. I wish I could show you off like this.” he takes his two slim fingers, gently caressing your wet glossy folds.

poor you shivered and swallowed. “can you st-stop teasing me?? it's not fair.. at least I tried my best…” you murmured.

“one more fucking word out of you and I'll do the nastiest things to you.” he gritted his teeth, grabbing your cheeks, forcing eye contact.

by now, you were intimidated to the max. minho was already mean enough to you, it was all tough love. it has gotten to the point his passive aggressiveness and rough physical touch arouses you.

you just wanted him to use you as if you’re some sort of toy. you’d let him do anything.

he lets go of your face, resuming his actions. he slowly moves a finger in your warm wet little hole before fucking you open for another finger or two to join in.

“w-wait fuck.. mmphh..!!!” a loud airy whimper escaped from your throat as your grip onto his bed sheets. it felt so good, you had just forgotten about the test you failed. all your problems and concerns had be wiped away thanks to your tutor.

three fingers later, you were left sobbing and drooling, desperate you wanted more!— too bad that it was all cut short by your cocky tutor!!

“you really thought i’d waste my precious time fucking a stupid girl like you?” he scoffed, pulling his fingers out, “if you ace your next test, i’ll think about fucking you again.”

darn it.. （；へ：）

[fandomregression]

hii you should TOTALLy do cg martin blackwood hcs :3 every time im regressed i pretend he's takin care of me cuz i love him soooo sosososo much and he brings me so much comfort :333

- bearcubblues

hiiiiiii sorry this took me literally Forever to do i have been so blah for a long time eeeee anyway!!

CG Martin Blackwood Headcanons!

martin is very, very good with quiet babies or older kids. he is not the best with handling kiddos with higher support needs or who are a bit brattier, he gets pretty frustrated with them

that being said, he is The Caregiver for comfort. if something upsets his regressor, makes them cry, whatever, martin is immediately there with hugs and tea and their fave stuffies to make them feel better

martin is absolutely the one who knows all his regressor's stuffies by name, and he knows which ones are besties and which ones are mortal enemies, and he knows their favorite sweets. all of this is very important information to have

martin is less the type to spoil a regressor with toys or pacis or cute clothes and more the type to take his regressor to the park or to a museum or the aquarium for the experience

looooooves cooking/baking with his kiddo!! he'll get them in the kitchen with him to measure and stir things for him, and is sure to sprinkle in some "oh let me do that, you're too little" moments

honestly the Best snuggles. he's a bigger guy and he just envelopes his regressor in a big hug that is just the most loving and protective embrace

big tshirts? big tshirts. they are no longer his, they are the kiddo's nighties and there is nothing he can do to stop this

he writes a lot of poetry and tries to teach his kiddo how to write it. they end up writing a lot of silly limericks!

i like to think that martin can sing so he sings his regressor lullabies for bedtime!

a lot of times martin tends to feel inadequate as a person and a caregiver, so he does need reassurance from his kiddo that he does a good job, and he appreciates it when his kiddo tries to do things for him like fix him a drink, get him a snack, or take a break from the bluey marathon to watch maybe a nice documentary about cows

(has also 100% absolutely dressed his regressor up in a highland cow onesie costume because it was too darn cute)

he can be strict about certain things like cleaning up toys or going to bed at bedtime, but he is still very gentle about the whole thing. gentle guiding into the direction he wants/needs the kiddo to go. is a master at bribing regressors with sweets to clean up toys

overall martin likes being a caregiver because it means someone needs him. he likes taking care of others, feels like he needs to do so, and taking care of a regressor just comes naturally to him. as long as he doesn't burn himself out, and he lets his kiddo help him, too, he is a fantastic caregiver ♡

[kyojurosprettygirl]

If you're willing to write for demons, can you do a short Akaza x fem slayer story?? One where the reader keeps chasing him because he refuses to fight her on account of her being a woman? It could be a cute enemies to rivals to lovers, maybe even be a little angsty. I would imagine the y/n's bewilderment that the gosh darn uppermoon 3 wouldn't kill her, or that she's insulted that he refuses to fight.

a/n: OH EM GEE. NONNIE THIS IS PURE GOLD. i feel you've read my mind , and it's a little scary . i've had smth similar in my head for MONTHS and you don't know how excited i am to write this now that i have a baseline!!! XD this has given me much more inspiration for it and surprisingly more leeway . it's kind of hard to keep my stories short... ;;; I HOPE YOU ENJOY REGARDLESS X)))) I WONT LIE, this was super hard to write.

the sun will always rise.

Akaza x Demon Slayer! Fem! reader

for each and every kill a slayer makes, it counts as a single but notable step toward the designated finish line. the finish line where humans will be safe from harm; where a corps dedicated to killing demons wouldn't have the need to exist. it should be a simple thing, you realize. in hindsight, people think you just train, kill, and repeat, until finally your flame dies out and your just another warrior who's sacrificed their life without a name left behind, depending on how much you killed that is.

In reality, though, the corps is much more complex. There are ranks, hidden villages, hidden faces, and most notably demons who were once human too. who were once filled with their own ideologies, their own minds and voices, they were once a full glass rather than an empty shell of what once was. Some, too far gone, others, just unfortunate people who fell into the deep end. It is when you fight with a demon when the complexity really set's in, you hear them, feel them even, and although some are easy to ignore, other's are much harder. and for you, it was always harder, your empathetic nature toying with your mind and heart. it was something you connect well with the young slayer you've come to know as Tanjiro, but you differ in one thing, you find killing the demons much easier than he does. choosing to ignore their pasts to reduce the risk of dying, using the most painful form you know on them. It's how you got into this mess to begin with.

your feet ache, burn even, trying their hardest to keep up with your mind who seems to not have any limits. your fingers are numb, your cheeks burn, and your neck itches from the cloth constantly rubbing on it because of the frantic movement. for the second time tonight, another strong demon made it's way into your line of vision. though its more unfortunate for them than it is for you, you're still human and your body begs to succumb to the comfortable earth below you. the fight was drawn out, too much for your liking, making your patience to run extremely thin. dodging it's attacks left and right, you spoke out to the demon, surprisingly finally hitting a nerve. when the demon had stopped to tell you it's sorrows, how it feels, you called a form and decapitated it without second thought, it having given you an opening. you dropped your blade and keeled to where it's head laid and you gently picked it up, facing it toward you.

"I wish you a comfortable trip to hell." you rasp out. gently placing it's head on the ground as the sun rises, it's body ashing out into nothing. you sigh and look at the unlit part of the forest, noticing piercing eyes in the shadows. in curiosity, you appear infront of the demon in a split second, him barley dodging your blade. his eyes go wide in surprise and he groans in frustration, disappearing into what's left of the dark. he was gone just as fast as you appeared and you decided to ignore it, convincing yourself it was simply your lack of sleep.

but it happened again. and again. and you began to grow frustrated. you began to seek the demon out, and every time you got close, he'd dodge and refuse to fight you. At first, it was one-sided, where you seeked him out, he tried to avoid you, just wanting to complete muzans orders, but the closer you got to tracking him down, you began to interfere greatly with his orders. orders of which when failed to complete, he'd have his blood wrung dry, but still keeping his morale of not intentionally hurting you. you were a woman, it would be wrong. and, it was your job. could he really blame you?

"what the hell." he thinks, as he dodges another one of your hits, you're much faster than what he's used to, so you must be a high ranked slayer. He splays his arm out in an attempt to grab your blade from you when he heals the blade into his skin , but it's futile when you catch onto it and twist, creating another wound where you have enough time it grab it back. as the sun began to creep up, he knew he had to get out of the fight quickly, but he knew you well enough to the point where you wouldn't drop it that easy. you huffed, a slight smile gracing your features, and for a moment he's enamored, your strength is admirable and your beauty shines through the roughness of your hits, but he doesn't stare too long. Instead, he runs from under you when you jump, and runs deep into the dark forest. He hears your scream of frustration as you begin to chase after him, except going the opposite direction. he exhales, you were going to be a problem, he could already feel it. so he opted from then on to hide away from you, knowing you were constantly chasing to kill him.

sooner or later though, for every slayer he was ordered to kill, you'd come in and save double. For every place he managed to hide himself in, you'd cover them head to toe in wisteria poison residue. For every item he'd need to retrieve, you'd try to combat with him, leaving him no choice but to leave and go back empty handed. you can only imagine how angered he was becoming. where he'd usually draw fights out, get to know the powerful slayers, and even give them more chances to kill him, he found himself just wanting to kill them immediately as a means to save himself from your wrath. you were everywhere, wherever he was, you somewhere were always there. he figured it was your crow. It was getting to the point where he was thinking of letting go of his morals, maybe you would be the only exception to his rule. he hated your existence, and was hoping another demon would do the job for him. he realized you were specifically targeting him, and it's what angered him even more. he decided he'd start to put his hand's on you, and use a few words, maybe then you'll get off his ass.

you panted as you finally managed to get him on the ground. he had no way out of this, unless he hurt you, and oh was he tempted. you make a move to cut his head off, a gleam of relief running in your eyes, one he caught onto. he then grabbed your hips and rolled into a position where you laid under him, getting off as fast as he could and attempting to take his leave. you grunt, chasing him and he grabs your wrist before your blade could make contact with him. 'why won't he just fight back.' you think, your eyes widening at how gentle his grasp was. you furrow your brow, jerking your hand off and kicking him, creating a wave of dirt dusting over your vision. "why do you run from me! just get up and fight me!" frustration was evident in your voice, and he laughed at it. god, you sounded like inosuke, you realize. "you just don't give up." he grunts, he looks you in the eyes and you realize he's an uppermoon. "because you are a woman." and at that your face is one of bewilderment. 'this entire time!' you think. you make a move to throw him deeper into the forest but he dodges and runs into the forest. again. you groan and notice the sun was beginning to peak from the horizon. "it's now or never, demon!" you scream, and chase after him. it was a fruitless chase.

he thought it would have led to you giving up, but it instead became a game of cat and mouse. whenever you did encoutner him, you'd push for answers, for him to just hit you back, deem you worhty of his time, but he just rushed out of the match. leaving you at the same time the moon did.

his comment made you assume you thought he was weak, and knowing he was uppermoon three fed into those assumptions. he only ever fought the highest rank slayers, you noted, and he was almost always victorious in them, except for those who made it til sunrise, two to be exact, and they would talk about how he just never gave up, how he seemed eager to elongate their fight. although, that was years ago, and you weren't even sure if he was considered the third uppermoon then. this continued on for months, and fueled your ambition even more. yet as the days passed, you began to falter more and more, your spark dimming by the seconds. you felt weak, and knowing you weren't was different than feeling you weren't, you felt unworthy, and a demon's word's shouldn't hit as deep as Akazas did. he fought Rengoku, a hashira you grew to know well, and from what he had told you, you just grew insecure. you felt guilty, he survived by a single thread, and instead of wanting to avenge him, you just wanted to be recognized by the demon. you selfishly wanted him to ask you to be a demon, to ask for your name and say that you were gifted. you had soon given up on the chase, guilt eating at you faster than the fire you had in you did. but the fire of wanting to kill him remained in you regardless, laying dormant and behind your old wounds.

as you walk mindlessly, you only notice the moon when you walk into a small running river, the coldness easing the ache in your feet. it was a long day, and you'd just completed a mission the master had given you. you sit on a rock and let the water dance around your ankles, giggling when small pebbles tickled you. you sigh and close your eyes and enjoy the night, trying to find the person you once were before encountering the demon. he hadn't left your mind since, and knowing his name had simply made it harder. your brows furrow in subconscious annoyance. you were sick, sick of him unintentionally controlling your life. "fuck off , Akaza" you groan, opening your eyes. and as the saying goes, speak of the devil and he shall appear. you jump and squeal when he suddenly appears next to you, the height difference increasing as he isn't sitting down. "what the Fuck." you say, trying to get your blade, but stopping when he just laughs. it's soft, and you decide to just give up. he notices your lack of reaction, and sits next to you on the ground. at this point you were both at eye level, and you felt embarrassed that you needed a rock to reach his eyes while sitting. he doesn't know what to say, and neither do you, your interactions were only your attempts to kill him, and him trying to avoid your strikes. you break the silence. "why are you here." and he hears your voice differently for the first time. rasps he's gotten used to aren't there, and it lacks loudness. it's silky, and it pricks at his skin. he can admire you now, he thinks, and he savors every second. he decides to respond truthfully. "i want to know your name." you gasp, its almost ghostly sounding, but he catches on. you feel regret fill your mouth the same way saliva does before you vomit, but instead it's for being happy about a demon asking for your name, and the acidity soon to come is you giving it to him. you contemplate it, and you face him, his breath hitches at finally seeing your relaxed face. your crazy wild eyes are now sharp and gleam the same way gold would, your mouth isn't in a tight frown but instead a slight smile, he assumes it's how it naturally falls. you open your mouth to speak, before your brows furrow, an expression he's gotten used to. "you don't need it." you state. your tone is firm and a familiar coldness returns to it. he hums, "but i wan't it" you tilt your neck back, and sigh, 'oh what the hell'. "y/n." your gaze turns to him and he feels his blood rush, he hates how you easily put him in a trance. "i wan't to kill you." you say boldly, and he lets out a laugh before he realizes your serious. "do you even hear yourself?" and he laughs again. you grab your blade and stab it into his heart, a hit that would have killed anybody normal. "loud and clear, uppermoon three." and he gets goosebumps from your voice. Akaza decides to humor you, and grabs your blade to throw it at you, knowing you would easily avoid it. he sees excitement in your face and smiles at it, it wouldn't hurt to humor you, he just needed to be very careful. Although your skeptical you decide if you die fighting him, people would see it as an honorable death, and it would ease you in your final moments.

Akaza felt guilty. he was there for one reason only. to kill you. it was an order from muzan, and as much as he wanted to remain loyal to the man, he couldn't. "you aren't serving me as efficiently as before, I believe it's the Kinoe." he was right. and it was then when he stated he was to kill her, or he'd kill them both himself. He wasn't going to kill you himself, he was going to have a smaller demon do the work for him, but he wanted to know you, wanted to do what he couldn't do before. He was gravitating toward you, and he wasn't given any room to pull way. He thought it'd be okay to let you spend our last moments doing what you wanted. To fight him.

But the fight turned a different way than he thought.

each sentence you spoke, each sassy remark, you'd made him more intrigued. he found himself wanting to know everything about you, and as the night went on, after you cleanly sliced the lower demons dead and continued to speak as if nothing happened, he felt he was ready to give up his loyalties. he was afraid, you spoke for the entire night and he had to decide to kill you and execute his duties as muzans right hand, or, if he'd die with you. as the sun rose, reminding him the same way an hourglass would, he decides to run. again. but this time, with a promise to see you again. you land one more hit and he trips you, catching your arm before you hurt yourself on a jagged rock. he positions you as you catch your balance, and he holds your blade in his hand, his palm bleeding as he digs it deeper. "you could use more work on your form." he chuckles, and you simply snicker. "i haven't done this fighting style for hundreds of years y'know." he hums, and walks into the forest, he needed an excuse, and a way to hide the night he went through from muzan.

deep shit, you think.

this continues again, and again, until eventually, you know more of Akaza than you do your own family. night after night, saying goodbye when the sun rose. he was able to make it seem like you'd been killed, ofcourse not with his own hands, muzan wouldn't believe it, and you never got in the way of his missions.

it felt wrong, but the way he ignited you pushed you to continue the growing relationship. but you knew deep down, eventually it would slip, and muzan would find out, if not him, then your comrades. but to both you, you stopped minding it.

you were killed, in a torturous way infront of akaza, muzan had found out, and it was one of the moments that made it easier for him to not grow his head back when decapitated. he figured if it was you who he was meeting again, then maybe death was the answer.

funfact! he refused to let you walk with him to hell. he made sure you both wen't separate ways, but once he made it far enough, you ran back to him and you both fell to the depths together.

'you don't belong here.'

'i do. if i was a saint, i would have never met you.'

[enchantedchocolatebars]

Going off that Caleb and Philip idea, short story request please!

Caleb and Philip go with Evelyn to the market. Caleb has Philip in a baby sling on his back because Philip has been misbehaving.

Philip is grumpy because his situation means he has to go wherever Caleb goes. The only good thing he can find about it is that being attached to Caleb's back means he doesn't have to look at Evelyn.

The idea that anon is talking about.

And you got it!

I hope this is okay! <3

Plz share ur thoughts if u can! 💕 <3

😤 The Grouchy Baby 👶

"I can walk you know," Little Pip grumbled as he was tied to the baby sling on his brother's back.

The two siblings were currently at the Bonesborough marketplace with Evelyn.

She figured it be fun to show the two around.

Their reaction to everything was PRICELESS.

She couldn't stop laughing.

Humans made the most absurd faces.

"Well, you've lost your walking privileges," Caleb would sternly state.

Ever since they came to the market, his baby brother has been on a bad behavior spree.

Insulting random strangers, attempting to set shops on fire, going on rants about chaos.

It was too much.

He couldn't be trusted to walk on his own.

"No fair!" Philip would argue, a sour look on his face.

How could Caleb do this to him?

He was 12 years old!😤

He was practically an adult!😤

A gosh darn grown up, not some dumb baby!

He should not be treated this way.😠

It was unjust.😤

Caleb sighed. "Once you show me that you can be good, you'll earn them back."

"Once you show me that you can be good, you'll earn them back," Philip rudely mimics.

Caleb frowns at this. "Being a smart mouth will only increase your time." The elder informs, looking back at his brother, only to see that he was gone.

Brown eyes widen in shock. "Huh?! How did he--?!"

"FREE!" A child triumphantly screams.

Turning around, Caleb saw Philip sprinting away at full speed. "Philip, get back here!" The elder would demand.

"NEVER!" He shouts back. A cute, cunning smile crept on his face.

Time to cause problems on purpose. >:D

Screw witches! >:3

"Oh, no, you don't."

Suddenly, Philip feels himself being magically lifted up. "Huh?"

An unseen force then carries him back to Caleb before he has a chance to question what was happening. "Hey! Let me go!"

Pip tries to flee, but can't.

"You're going back on Caleb's back," Evelyn would say, using her magic to tie Philip back to his baby sling.

Caleb gave his girlfriend a satisfied smile. "Thank you, Evelyn."

"Of course!" She smiles back.

Meanwhile Philip huffs in defeat, snuggling into the sling.

"Whatever. At least I don't have to look at her."

[burnwater13]

Fennec Shand and the Mandalorian on Ossus firing their weapons at the stormtroopers who have landed to recapture Grogu. Terrain is rocky and 'fallen' stormtroopers can be seen in the background. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 6, The Tragedy. Calendar by DataWorks.

“Cut!”

The scene ended and the actors were giving Jon a very strange look. There must have been a technical problem, because everyone made their marks, nailed their lines and the energy was really great. They all almost believed that they were in a galaxy far, far away. At least that’s what they said during the behind the scenes special that was also being filmed that day. 

Various members of the crew sighed. At least one of the grips had seen what happened and while they had done everything they could not to laugh out loud, they weren’t surprised that Jon had caught it too. He had a great eye for details and you couldn’t miss that one. The little guy, Grogu, had flipped the ‘bird’ at his scene partner. Not the puppeteers who worked with the ‘stunt’ double. The actual Child from that galaxy far, far away. 

“Grogu, buddy, pal… what was that about? That scene looked great. The energy was great. Why did you choose to spoil it? Now we have to do the whole thing over. That takes time. People are going to be late to lunch. What’s going on here?”

Jon was being quiet. No one else needed to know what he was talking to Grogu about. He was sure some of the cast and crew had seen it too. There had been a smattering of laughter that he hoped could be edited out or covered with music when that scene went to editing. But if they saw Grogu flip ‘Mando’ the ‘bird’, then the audience would too and it was still cheaper to do the scene than to edit that in post. 

“Pinched me.”

Grogu’s tone was annoyed, but he was narrowing his eyes as he looked across the room at the offending Mandalorian. Dank farrik! Jon did not want to see anyone in the cast find out about the Force the hard way. It had happened once before during rehearsals on season one according to Taika. Some one had done something that Grogu didn’t like and they had found themselves in a pile on the other side of the set. That’s when they put a serious effort into making the ‘stunt’ double and bringing in the puppeteers. 

“Grogu, buddy. I’m sure it was a mistake. An honest mistake. I’ll talk to them and it won’t happen again. I promise.”

Grogu sighed and then nodded his head. As long as it was Jon’s problem he would be fine. Jon always honored his word. 

Jon walked over to ‘Mando’ and had a hushed conversation with them. First things first, don’t pinch the kid. Grogu didn’t like it. It wasn’t what anyone should do. 

“But the kid’s so darn cute! Ya know the way TV adds ten pounds the kid just always looked a little fat to me. But when you meet ‘em in person, he’s so cute! Just like a puppy! How could I not pinch those cheeks? Come on, Jon. You know me. It’s like my grandkid was on the set.”

“I get it. I do. He is adorable. Everyone falls in love with him as soon as they see him. Even George. But he doesn’t like having his cheeks pinched. Even if you were his Nonno, he wouldn’t like it.  You’re not a spring chicken any more. Do you think you can stick the landing like you did as the Penguin?”

“What? What the hell are you talking about? I haven’t done stunts in years!”

“Exactly my point. The last person who pinched his cheeks had to be checked out at the ER. You don’t want that. I don’t want that. He doesn’t want that.”

“Cripes, Jon! Why didn’t you warn me? I’d have treated him like a tomato or an egg. A sweet little green egg… I’ll apologize to the kid. It’s all my fault. I don’t want there to be any bad blood. I was just in the moment ya know?”

“Good. Just be patient. He’s the key to everything around here. If he gets upset, his dad is going to want to take him home. We still have a lot of season to shoot and we can’t do it without him.”

“No problem, Jon. I got ya covered.”

The ‘Mando’ walked over to Grogu and stopped a couple of feet away. He wanted to give the kid some space. 

“Hey, kid. I’m sorry. I shoulda known better. It’s just you remind me of my grandkids and I miss ‘em when I’m on set. But I shouldn’t ‘ve done it. What can I do to make amends? Do you like food? I heard you loved pasta. I make a mean ziti bolognese.”

Grogu turned around as soon as he heard the offer for food and studied his foe. 

“And cannoli?”

“Of course cannoli! What kind of Nonno would I be if I didn’t serve cannoli?!”

Yippee!

Grogu had wondered what it would take to get an invite to Danny’s for dinner. Peli bet him ten credits it wouldn’t happen. Ha! This is the Way!

Happy April Fools Day!

[anthophilafalls]

Since I’m a Ford Pines x Reader writer occasionally (ONLY ROMANTIC FLUFF ok) the snow and the ambience of this is too cute I felt inspired to write something, hopefully this is ok with you OP but the imagery is so cute I immediately imagined this happening when Ford steps out into the snow to see how you’re doing after making cookies with Stan & the twins…

- - -

Warning: THIS IS A ONE-SHOT ITS PROBABLY POORLY WRITTEN MY APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE

The air was cold and clear, small flecks of snow speckle his large winter coat as he walked up next to you, gazing in wonder of the flurry of snow that now coated Gravity Falls.

Your eyes meet,

“Oh, hi Stanford” you greet him with a smile.

“Greetings y/n” Ford waves before nervously placing both gloved hands in his coat pockets, and turning his gaze away from your eyes.

You’ve seen him hide his hands before, he’s done it ever since you were kids, but this time it felt different. You hear the sound of snow falling around you, like kitten paws on a soft blanket, but the building silence calls for you to say something more.

“How was the Gingerbread house making?” you ask.

“Excellent, though not the most structurally sound structure I’ve devised…”

he responds, briefly meeting your eyes once more.

“Are your hands cold?” you ask, still curious about the speed at which he hid his hands from you.

“No, no they are really warm actually. Mabel designed some near perfectly thermally insulated gloves for me. Her knitting work is magnificent” he says taking a hand out of his pocket, slowly flipping it admiring the pattern on both sides.

“I love to knit too” you respond, “but I should probably offer some of my old yarn to Mabel, considering I don’t do it much”

“She is quite prolific in her craft” he chuckles, remembering how often he’s seen Mabel cross legged in front of the TV surrounded by balls of yarn.

You point to his hand, now once again firmly place in his pocket. “You’re doing that thing again!” you comment lightheartedly

“What thing?” he asks confused checking his shoes for what you might be pointing at.

“Your hands” you giggle, “You know you don’t have to hide them from me, of course if you’re only doing it to be more comfortable don’t mind my observation…”

“Oh, right” He says running one hand through his hair , “I guess it’s a reflex”.

“A reflex from… oh right, I’m sorry” you say, “but I’ve never seen you do it this fast before, at least not in front of me.”

You see his cheeks blush slightly,

“oh.. well you see… I guess it’s because your” he stops himself, “it’s because Cathy Crenshaw” he says with a sigh.

“Cathy Cren- oh that jerk Cathy?!” you pound your fist in your hand.

“yes, I… Well, when I held her hand, she… she cried.” He says, staring to the ground shifting snow with his foot.

“but I wouldn’t c-” you catch yourself. You’ve loved Ford since you were kids, but could there be an actual chance he feels the same way? Darn it, you better not have scared him off almost giving yourself away.

“but you aren’t trying to hold my hand” you correct yourself.

“I guess not” he says, staring once more at his fingers.

“It’s ok, she was a total dweeb anyways. I mean who skips out on the science fair to play polo for free at some mansion” you respond snarkily

He chuckles, phew he isn’t too upset at you bringing this up.

It gets quiet again, the magnificence of your surroundings isn’t lost on you, both staring into the trees.

“Thank you” he says suddenly

“for what?” you ask

“For, for never being repulsed my me”

You glance, a little sadly back at him. why would I ever be? you wonder

“in that case thank you too, I was a weird kid as well, and new. It’s so nice that you and Stan let me join in with you guys, I don’t know who else I would have been friends with otherwise.”

He smiles, and the two of you stare back at the snow frosted forest.

“Winter is beautiful here” you exhale

“not as beautiful as you” he whispers to himself

“what?” you ask, butterflies fluttering in your stomach

“I ugh I think I saw a ewe” he stutters, panicked that you might have heard him.

“would be a strange season for that” you respond casually, internally giddy knowing it’s not what he meant.

“haha yes, it might have come from the local petting zoo, or maybe it’s just a trick of light! haha.” he responds, clearly trying to change the subject.

“Hey” you say

“Yes?” he says, cheeks red from both cold and embarrassment

“It’s really fun talking with you” you smile sincerely.

His eyes meet yours and you stare at each other for a moment. After what feels like forever, he opens his mouth.

“Do you, perhaps, want to go back inside? Stan and the kids may be wondering where we are.” He says bluntly.

“Oh, oh yeah. I mean it is getting a little cold.” You respond, slightly disappointed.

“I’ll walk you back” he says, gazing back at you. Slowly, he reaches his hand out toward yours.

“May I?” he asks,

“Of course” you say, as you hold his hand in yours.

It is complete…! :’D I wanted to get these done in December but life happened. Regardless, I’m glad I got to finish at a decent time. Enjoy some lovely Pines Winter bonding :D

[asoulofatlantis]

Okay... that was a panic reaction. I wonder why he feels like this time he needs to make sure she is behind him. Last time they fought the Turks together and he wasn't as much in "panic-protection" - mood.

Or is it because of what Hojo pulled on the beach AFTER saying he was not after Aerith?

I have nothing against women in a team that is far too... "male" if you get me, but she is kind of annoying and I am suddenly missing Reno. I wonder... was she in the original as well?

Guess we finally jumped back to Zacks timeline. IF it is the timeline from the beginning, that is, because apparently, we aren't sure of that either ^^' (Gotta love Nomura...)

I wanted to complain why it didn't occur to Zack to bring Aerith home... but I guess he thought she would have been a to easy target there.

I think it is save to say that this is the first Zack timeline we saw him in... or... the second? The scene with Zack in the Church kind of irritated me a bit, to be honest, because it doesn't really fit with the first time we saw Zack here. I should have watched out for that darn dog from Shirna to check ^^'

BTW... he really didn't bring her back because her home was targeted. Elmyra confirmed tho that it wasn't anymore. And obviously, she is not taking her daughter with her. But I honestly am surprised that she allowed Cloud along as well. She didn't seem to be too fond of him. Then again, Aerith would want it that way, I guess. (They say, that Aerith and Cloud are in this Coma to protect themselves from Sephiroth, but I don't really get it.)

It seems like Zacks world is... cracking? O.o And the people say the world is ending. I guess makes somewhat sense. With Aerith and Cloud in a coma and the rest of Avalanche possibly dead, no one is stopping Sephiroth OR the Meteor.

I wonder if she somehow saw or felt that. Anyway... our time with Zack is over already. For the fact that they hyped the fact that he is back up so much, he is hardly even there ^^'

Thing is... she is not going home. Like... ever again.

Cloud had one of his... uh... "lost control of his mind" - moments and almost jumped down a bridge, following the robed figures. Not because he wanted to follow them, but because whatever was calling them, was also calling him.

UPS. Ich bin in dem Dungeon voll im Kreis gelaufen. Na so ein Shit.

How cute ♥

So... I guess we have a new pet! May I introduce you to Cloud Jr.? XD

I guess we found Mommy.

Even if Nibelheim is close... with this freaking wound they would have never made it here. What matter of transport did they even us to get to this godforsaken place? I stay with what I said before. It makes no sense whatsoever that Tifa survived and the more she explained how, the more unrealistic it sounds. No wonder Cloud doesn't believe her.

I know Sephiroth is just messing with Cloud and that Tifa isn't the problem, but SE who made this "survival story" full of holes. But still I can not blame Cloud for trusting more in Sephiroths mind games here.

A helicopter would certainly make this faster. But she still had to be carried all the way into a burning Village, which might have been her luck because it might be that that was the reason for a Helicopter being there in the first place. BUT this must have been like a REALLY close call.

That was a quick visit. But isn't it too early for the Gold Saucer?

And I do not get why they blamed Barette. He wasn't the only one in favor of that reactor. Why put the blame on him?

Fu**! Why am I already there? I am so confused! I thought all that stuff happened way later in the game. Like... chapter 12. And if all that happens in chapter 12... what are we even doing here?

Barett and Cloud looking at each other sighting because of the girls excitement made my day XD They might complain, but there sure as hell is no way they are going to stop them ^^'

Our girls are certainly having fun XD

Are we... doing a dance-off? ^^'

[thinkingoutloud92]

blast from the past

So I reconnected with one first ex, D.

He’s… a character. Definitely my first love, someone I’d never forget. I broke up with him because I guess I outgrew him. I wanted different things, and I knew I couldn’t reconcile that with him. I wanted a whole new world, and I wanted to get to know myself.

I remember being super guity about how I did it. 3 days before my anniversary with him. I remember bearing the guit for years. But forever, I’ll remember that lesson on not to hide my emotions — forever etched with him. He was the reason I became more honest with people. He was the reason I learned how to first love someone, truly. He was also the reason I grew up and matured as fast as I did.

He became a bitter, depressed character after our breakup. Being the dumper, I am trying to remember how I felt that. I remember reaching out after a few months to try and be friends, because of course I wanted the friendship. But he was still bitter, still sad, and worse — angry. Didn’t want to talk. Well; I know I’ll never do that. I’m reading my email threads with him back in 2010, and what sign.

But what’s bittersweet is that I really grew. Imagine, I broke up with him when I was 16. And at 18 years old, I was writing myself letters like this:

Can you believe you're 18 now? No, seriously, this is so freaking amazing. And since this is only a few months... since I wrote this letter, I expect you to still look fairly the same. Meaning still looking like a 15-16 year old. Well, college is just around the corner--and I hope you remember what you've planned to do. :) By now, summer is done, and most likely than not, it's the night of your long-awaited debut!  I hope you have a lot of boys attending--or booze. =)) Well, even if not, it's okay (though you and I both know it's a bit lame), but I know future me will be nothing but lame. :D So you've just spent the "almost" last summer of your life. I hope you've seen all the movies, met a lot of people, read a lot of books, done a heeeeellllll lot with Speque Productions, and finally joined that LGV Youth Choire (though it's okay if you haven't, since... well, they're young. Now, anyway.) I hope you remember to keep in touch with every one of your friends in college. I hope you remember that nothing can or should be able to set you apart from anyone you used to love. You know you don't want to make those mistakes again. You're 18, you've learned, and you're going to move on and live. Live without restraint, without thinking too much, and without regret. I expect you to have written that letter to D. If you have, then however he may have responded, treat him like you'd normally treat anyone. Stop getting kilig so easily, darn it. =)) I hope Jason is out of your effing life. As in, really. Even the mention of JR wouldn't even bring down hate in your system (because you really don't care!). It just isn't worth it. And I hope you haven't confessed--never ever confess.  And who cares if he didn't take you to ball? (I'm assuming, 'cause right now, it's likely for that flirt) Who cares if more people were asked than you? You're still awesome, and you know it. You're still better. You're in Ateneo and you're going to rock everyone's socks with your freedom. You're free. You can do anything you want without asking permission. You can make a billion plans, make yourself as busy as possible, and as social as ever. Age really doesn't matter any more. I hope now you're more fashionable as ever. More updated as ever.  And stop breaking promises. Do things ASAP and stop freaking sleeping! It's college, chill, and go with the flow. Don't rush things. I'm sure you already know all of this. I'm hoping that you have met a really cute guy to crush on--and even if not, focus on living life. You've only just started!! Hello, 18--hardly the start! So gosh, go live life to the fullest! Flirt, laugh, dance! Don't hold back, because you are free, baby! Do you have any idea how long you've wanted this??? FIGHT! And be happy. :) Talk to you soon! :>

My god. Nakakaiyak talaga. Even at age 31, what I feel isn’t as different now from when I was 18. Almost, 13 years ago.

I still want things to work out with my ex; or hope it can. So I’m going to do this right. I’m not going to do what D did. I’m also going to try to move on.

D said it was his biggest heart break, but after me he got married twice. Now he has a baby. Who would’ve thought?

Great things are coming. I know it.

[echotoyou]

JADE OH MY GOODNESS THE QUIPS ALREADY HAVE ME BY THE THROAT AHHHHHH

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it

*i* died laughing

You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

HAHAHAHA oh NO

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

oh dear lord that’s me jade how could you perceive me like this

Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

OH DEAR LORD JADE

ok i didn’t go to law school but i did go to grad school and the hellsat is the funniest thing i’ve heard it called

might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis.

have you heard this song (https://open.spotify.com/track/7BmpRLqZg1vLheYi1SI1Rw?si=NuKNeoAQTAK-ctr-p8aGpw) bc YES CAN CONFIRM

After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

HAHHAAHHAAAAAAHHHHHHHH THAT IS PAINFUL AND SO TRUE

wow if only i had a seokjin disassociating next to me in orientation where would i be now WHERE

scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse

HAHHAHHAHAHAHHA

MY HEART JADE THIS IS PRECIOUS

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches 🥹🥹🥹

GRABBY HANDS

If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

HAHHAAHAHHA

“Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

SO TRUE

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered 😂😂😂😂

“Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?” 

HAHHAHAHH

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself.

oh oh OH JADE

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty. 

OMG JADE

JQBSIWOKWNSNWN

Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this. 🥹🥹🥰🥰🥰

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?” “Absolutely not. Next question!”

HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

There’s one person he responds to, no matter what.

eeeeeeee!!!

None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

oh my oh my oh my

ITS ALL LATIN 😂😂😂

You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless.

EEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

omg he is so DOWN BAD JADE THIS IS PRECIOUS

OMG THE GAME

AHHHHH THEYRE SO CUTE

Fuck, he wants to get you off. 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around. 🥺🥺🥺

OH. MY. FUCKING. JADE. GOD. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

HAHAHHA THEYRE SUCH NERDS I LOVE THEM

He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you

ICHAHAIKFNAJSJJFHAJKDNBDS AHHHHHHH

It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. 😩😩😩😩

and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window

HAHAHHAHAHA SO TRUE BESTIE SO TRUE

🥰💕😂😮‍💨🤪🤗✨☺️

JADE IM SCREAMING I WANT SO MUCH MORE OF THEM AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

absolutely obsessed when two people are whipped for each other oh my gosh this had excellence of a 400,000 word 30 chapter slow burn IN SEVEN THOUSAND WORDS

JADE

WHAT

they are just too darn sweet and their back and forth banter is EVERYTHING. this had me dying laughing every other line (the law jokes got me EVERY DAMN TIME) there’s no way this is your first jin smut no WAY he’s PERFECT

holy damn i’m gonna need a min (or five 🤪) have i told you recently that i love you?!?! and your BRILLIANT brain?!?!?

meet me at the bar (ksj)

You're supposed to be staring down the barrel of the last — and most important — examination of your life, but you only have eyes for your study buddy.

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x AFAB!Reader Type: One Shot | Fluff w/ Smut | 18+ — Minors DNI Word Count: 7.5k AU: Law school, study-buddies, best friends to lovers, highly educated idiots in love CW: Bad jokes, Latin, fingering (v), unprotected sex (p in v), Seokjinnie hits it from the back. A/N: My inaugural Seokjin smut is dedicated to my donsaeng-in-law (see what I did there?) @yoongiphoria, who is now embarking on this stupid, stupid gatekeeping journey IRL. Best of luck, my lil love. I'll be waiting for you on the other side of the war! MJ FIGHTING ~ Big ups to my other lil love, M, for beta reading 💕 Also: This is written based on my experience in the American legal (educational) system. I was, frankly, too lazy to study up on South Korean law for a fanfic, lol. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

You are not spiraling.

You are a paragon of health and wellness, you tell yourself as you gulp down a mug of coffee that is still far too hot, like you’ll die without it. 

More bitter than the taste on your tongue is the realization that you might die with it —  your third cup in fewer hours. As far as you can tell, though, it’s a win-win situation: You’ll either generate enough anxious energy to finalize your property law flashcards, or you’ll drop dead before you have to review them.

And you won’t have to take that exam…

And you won’t have to pay off your student debt…

Besides, you figure, the stomach ulcer you’re likely inflicting on yourself will be infinitely less painful than dragging your under-caffeinated corpse through yet another day of studying. Another eight, consecutive hours spent forcing forgotten subjects back into your maxed-out brain. 

It’s worth it, you repeat to yourself, though this gauntlet has turned out to be a full-time job that steals, rather than pays. You can faint on top of the finish line, so long as some part of you crosses it.

You should be used to it by now, running a marathon at a dead sprint. That’s all you’ve ever done — push yourself. You attended your first day of preschool and never stopped, never took a breath. Through elementary, middle, and high school; then for four years of university. Going, going, going.

Stumbling through that eighteenth lap around the track, you kept going because — well, being a student all was all you’d ever been. That’s your toxic trait, you’ve since discovered. Your concept of self is rooted exclusively within the context of a classroom.

You didn’t know it at the time, but your decision to take the Law School Admission Test — or the HellSAT, as you’ve come to call it — might have been the start of a quarter-life crisis. But you didn’t stop there. No, you took that score and ran with it. Slapped it onto every application as a desperate plea for acceptance. 

When you received your admission letter, you were a bright-eyed twenty-two-year-old with a bachelor’s degree and a vaguely defined dream.

Call it naïveté or call it gravitas, there wasn’t a doubt in your smooth little brain that law school was the logical next step to take. That being intelligent and hard-working made you well-equipped for the challenge that came with pursuing a Juris Doctor. After all, you’d spent nineteen years delaying gratification — what difference would three more make?

Within the first hour of your orientation, you — a professional student — had already learned something new: You were a masochist and, frankly, somewhat of an idiot.

Thankfully, you weren’t alone. 

Sitting — dissociating, more like — at a nearby table was a lanky boy you’d first noticed on your tour of the law building. His glassy-eyed stare was aimed somewhere in the middle-distance, and even though his slightly agape mouth said nothing, it communicated everything. He was the only other person in that atrium who looked the way you felt: scared shitless and riddled with buyer’s remorse. A can crushed under the boot of self-doubt.

It was the first time you and your wobbly knees went running in his direction, but it wouldn’t be the last.

He was so deep in a daze at that moment that he didn’t notice the way you threw yourself into the open chair next to him, didn’t look up at the scrape of wooden legs against the granite floor beneath them. He nearly jumped out of his skin when you announced your presence with words, however. 

It was less of an introduction — the way people in a society tend to greet each other for the first time, ever — and more of a twister. Words whipped through the air at a dangerously high velocity, no syllable ending before you started on the next. Just one breath, a few consonants, and a pair of dark eyebrows shooting up to cower behind his bangs. 

“Was — was that Korean?” He asked when you finally ran out of wind. 

Judging by the way his wide eyes softened, you knew he wasn’t making fun of you. You’d simply scrambled his brain so thoroughly that you’d transcended the known limits of language.

More of a question than an answer, you peeped, “I think so. Maybe?” You wavered with a sigh. “I’m no longer confident that I know any of the things I thought I knew, though. So, um, don’t quote me on that.”

“You’re giving me too much credit. I didn’t catch enough of whatever that was,” he gestured vaguely, “To even attempt to quote you.”

Within seconds and without knowing, he’d disarmed the bomb ticking away in your gut. He must’ve sensed it, too, because his face lit up so completely that you had to look away. One glance at the floor-to-ceiling windows confirmed that the sun hadn’t reappeared at that time of night. 

That rush of warmth you felt then  — that absolutely insane brightness — was powered exclusively by the grin taking up the entirety of his face. If that megawatt smile alone hadn’t rerouted your oncoming anxiety attack, the distinct, squeaking laugh that erupted out of his chest would’ve done the job. 

You doubled over, either under the weight of your own giggling or with the relief you felt in finding someone equally lost. Eyes swimming with mirth, you wiped wetness from your cheekbone and snorted, “Was that a windshield wiper?”  

“No, that was embarrassing.” 

The tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks went some dizzy shade of pink. 

He rubbed sheepishly at the back of his neck with one hand and held the other out to shake yours, “And I’m Kim Seokjin.”

Now, when the door of your apartment flies open without warning, it’s that same savior standing on your threshold. That designation may be melodramatic, but if that brown paper bag contains what you suspect it does, it’s deserved.

Seokjin, patron saint of breakfast sandwiches, flops down on the couch that stretches along the opposite side of your coffee table. From where you sit on the floor — hunched over your notes like a hobgoblin — you reach out your expectant arms and make grabby hands in the space between you.

You see mischief flash in his eyes, but only for a second. In the next, he’s pretending like he doesn’t see you; doesn’t hear your petulant little whines. He extends long legs out over the cushions, clutches the bag to his chest, and lets his head roll back to rest on the couch’s arm.

“Wanna know what I did today instead of practice essays?” He asks, eyes unfocused on the ceiling above.

All you actually want is whatever that smell is. You can’t stop staring at the bag of food in his hands. If you try hard enough, maybe you can summon some sort of psychic energy, make it levitate towards you.

He doesn’t wait for your response. “The math.”

“Huh?” 

You frown; and as you do, you reluctantly shift your gaze from Seokjin’s hands to his face. He isn’t looking your way, but you can tell he’s grimacing based solely on the way his jaw twitches. It’s a miracle he hasn’t ground his teeth to dust over the past three years, given how often he makes that face.

In an attempt to ease the tension in his posture, you snort, “Didn’t we go to law school because we can’t do math?”

He cracks an unwilling smile. A tiny one, but a smile nonetheless. Without turning his head, he extends his arm out in your direction. In the split second it takes for yours to spring forward like a snake, that blessed bag dangles; the scent of sausage, egg, and cheese wafts through the air and restores your will to live. Clutching your prize, halfway to feral, you tear into it without hesitation.

As you bite off more than you can chew, Seokjin prepares his rant with a sigh, “So, consider this.”

“Mmphf,” you advise through a mouthful of greasy bliss.

“Bar exam prep takes eight weeks, right? If we’re only counting business days, that’s forty — forty days, for a minimum of eight hours each.”

He becomes more restless, the more he talks. Heated, he sits bolt upright and turns wild-eyed to you.

Oh, he’s gone full-tilt insane.

“Three-hundred-and-twenty hours, then. And if you think about that in terms of our clerk wages —” He slaps his hands down on his thighs for emphasis. “— at 2,625 won per hour —” 

Then, he points to you, as if the increasing volume of his voice wasn’t already holding you hostage. “— we’ve sacrificed nearly two million won in income, just by studying for this fucking test.”

You swallow down the last bite of your sandwich, which you downright hoovered while Seokjin took the path of most resistance. After clearing your throat, your interjection overlaps with his next point: 

“Seokjinnie, why didn’t you just double our monthly —”

“That’s after we paid ninety million in tuition, hundreds of thousands on study materials and registration fees —”

You cut him off, “Is this your way of asking me to Venmo you for breakfast?” 

He freezes, caught fully off-guard. Shocked eyes widen like you’re the ridiculous one. “Of course not!”

He waves you off like his thoughtful gesture is no big deal. Then, like he’s tired himself out, he sinks back onto your couch. From his back, he grumbles with crossed arms, “‘M just sayin’ that I’m tired of this shit.”

You can’t help but giggle at the pathetic pout working down the corners of his mouth. “Felt,” you agree, though it feels a little bit like a lie.

Truth be told, you feel more awake now than you did ten minutes ago, and you can’t attribute it to the coffee — not when the evidence so clearly indicates otherwise. 

Over the course of three years, you’ve built up quite the case against yourself. You’ve made the following findings of fact:

Whenever he pops up, Seokjin brings your mood up with him. Even now, as he marinates in anguish on your couch, his presence gives you a reason not to beat yourself unconscious with the four-kilogram prep book that sits beside you on the rug. Makes you hate your circumstances a little less, if only because you share them with him.

And, for a rapidly deflating balloon, you have to concede that Seokjin looks stunning this morning. 

Unlike you and your day-three hair, he somehow had the energy to wash his. The mid-sections of some strands are still damp; the parts that aren’t frame his face in fluffy waves. His shampoo is something fruity mixed with something crisp — grapefruit and mint, maybe? — and it floods your senses, causing question marks to replace any coherent thoughts you might otherwise have. You’d be lying again if you said you didn’t want to find out for sure how soft those tresses really are.

The verdict? 

Well, the jury’s still out, but you know you’re guilty. 

If being down this bad for your best friend isn’t a criminal offense, it should be.

You shake your head to clear it. To smother the flame licking up the inside of your belly, you grab the certified mood killer off the coffee table and hold it up in front of you. Surely, the cure for a sexual tension headache is an eight-centimeter stack of color-coded, neon index cards covered in information you shouldn’t need to memorize in the first place.

“Exam’s in one week,” you say with a shiver.

Seokjin rolls onto his side to look forlornly at you. You are not looking at his bare hip bone, which appears where the hem of his shirt shifts from the waistband of his joggers. Nope.  

You continue the search for the point you’re trying to make. “I can barely spell mortgage, let alone explain what the fuck to do with one.”

“Don’t think I know what land even is at this point,” he sighs. Dejected, he lets his arm go limp. It spills off the edge of the cushion and dangles until his knuckles brush against the rug. “What is this property you speak of?”

Biting back a grin is impossible, so you press your lips together instead. Just like that — just by Seokjin being Seokjin — the hellscape you willingly walked into gets a little brighter. Maybe, you think, you can do this.

You look down for a moment to shuffle up the cards you spent the better part of two days preparing. As you stare down at the staggering amount of knowledge you might be tested on, you can feel the crease returning between your eyebrows. Your grimace is back, too, like a reflex. 

If you make it through this experience without premature wrinkles, you’ll be shocked.

There’s shifting on the couch ahead, but you don’t look up until Seokjin breezes, “From this angle, it almost looks like you’re smiling.”

His arm is no longer dangling off the edge of the couch. His entire upper body is. Knees now hinged over the backrest for balance, he’s upside-down and smirking impishly at you.

He has to know you’re in love with him, right? How could he expect you not to be?

You clear your throat and arch a single eyebrow as a challenge. “What is the rule against perpetuities, Seokjinnie?”

Like you, he can recite it in full at a machine-gun rate of fire. It’s been beaten so far into your heads that you might utter it on your deathbeds, with your last gasping breaths.

“No interest in land is good unless it must vest, if at all, not later than twenty-one years after some life in being at the creation of the interest,” he responds with a smug smile. “Easy.”

It’s your turn to smirk. 

“Great. Now, what does any of that mean?”

Without missing a beat, he fires back, “Does anyone know?”

“Absolutely not. Next question!”

Having had the same day, every day, for seven weeks straight, Seokjin is struggling. He’s spent hundreds of hours on the same routine, feeling beaten down and burnt out, all the while. It goes like this:

Every morning, he wakes up and goes for a run in a feeble attempt to feel something other than dread. After that, he eats a lackluster breakfast, and then he promptly chains himself to his desk. When he finally gives himself permission to get up again, it’s dark out; and he’s too brain dead to check the hundred or so notifications that amassed on his phone during his fugue state.

Scratch that. There’s one person he responds to, no matter what. As far as everyone else is concerned, though, he’s a ghost.

Today is the first day out of the last fifty-five where Seokjin doesn’t feel like his brain is being hydraulically pressed. For the first time in too long, he fell into an old routine; one he’s missed. It started with a shower — and honestly, that was overdue — then, he swung by the café he’s frequented over the past three years. There, he made his usual order.

One iced americano, and one sausage-egg-and-cheese croissant with extra hot sauce.

Before he walked back up the block, he downed the former, but he didn’t touch the latter. The latter wasn’t for him, anyways. None of the breakfast sandwiches he ever stops for are.

The subsequent hours looked semi-similar to the three-hundred-and-twenty he’s already devoted to studying. Well, sort of. To be clear, the subject matter still sucks, and he’s still angry that he has to touch it at all, but he isn’t waiting for the sweet release of death in the same way he has been all summer. 

This might have something to do with the fact that, for the first time in nearly sixty days, he’s not on his own. 

More than that, he’s with you.

Having switched away from covenants, easements, and servitudes, he feels a slightly less stupid. Contract law is a little more straightforward and a little less caked in colonialism. Unfortunately, after six hours of burning all his brain cells on shit like liens, Seokjin has begun his descent into madness. 

The worms are digging in, he can’t focus, and neither of you can stop — fucking — laughing.

“I’ll give you a hint,” you giggle, shifting in your spot on the neighboring cushion. You give his knee a pat that feels a tiny bit patronizing, but that makes his pulse race, nonetheless. “It’s a Latin term.”

He snorts so loudly that you do a double-take, just to make sure it wasn’t a sneeze. You both stare at one another for a beat, then comes the eruption.

“It’s all Latin!” He roars. 

To muffle the way he’s wheezing, Seokjin slaps his hands over his face. It’s already tear-stained from his abject failure to keep his shit together. At least he can attempt to hide how red he knows it is.

Your laugh comes straight from your belly. You double over completely when his comes out in squeaks, hand reaching out to squeeze his forearm. It used to bother him, the sound he made when he truly loses it, but it doesn’t any more. 

How could it, when it makes you cling to him like that?

Wiping at your cheeks, you take a deep breath, then sigh, “Does it help if I give you the translation?”

He doubts it because you just pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, and now, his mind is blank. 

Really, it’s a fucking miracle he graduated at all with you around. You and that face you make when you concentrate have always made it impossible for him to do so. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention in class when this shit was taught in the first place, he realizes now. 

To cool himself down, Seokjin grabs the Camelbak bottle off the coffee table, realizes too late it’s yours and not his — oh, well — and shoves the straw into his mouth. He nods once, firmly, and sucks in as much water as he can. 

It all sprays back out of his mouth when you say:

“Naked promise.”

He had always wondered what his life would look like if it ever flashed before his eyes. Now, he knows. It’s not a montage of his finest moments, the most recent of which would not have made the cut. All he sees is you, wide-eyed, glancing between him and the wet spot that’s now soaking through your sweatshirt.

You press your lips together, probably to keep from laughing in his face. It’s a valiant effort on your part and a kind gesture, but honestly, he doesn’t deserve it. His fingers twitch as he clutches the bottle, wanting nothing more than to dump the remaining water on his face. He embarrasses himself more often than not, but this stings his cheeks like a sunburn.

“I am —” he raises his hands, flustered, “So sorry. I don’t remember waking up in a sitcom this morning, but I, uhhh, clearly did.”

When you stand up, you’re grinning. And not in that scary way you do when you’re about to retaliate for some prank he’s pulled. No, that look on your face is genuine amusement. 

Thank god.

You shrug as you cross your arms over your torso and grip the hem of your sweatshirt with both hands. “All good, Seokjinnie,” you laugh. “This needed to be washed, anyway. You see that coffee stain?”

No. 

No, he does not see that coffee stain because the tank top underneath your sweatshirt is clinging to the wet spot as you tug the top layer up your stomach. He feels bad for staring — really, he does — but fuck, your skin looks soft. Like, so soft that he has to grip his water bottle to keep a grip on himself.

Eventually, your tank top separates from your sweatshirt. It falls back down to where it belongs, to Seokjin’s dismay, and the sweatshirt keeps going. 

“Nudum pactum,” you remind him as you pull the drenched hoodie over your head. Playfully, you toss it at him. It smacks against his chest, splays out over his lap. 

Once more with feeling: thank god. 

You sink back down beside him on the couch, and he can’t help but notice that you’re the tiniest bit closer than you were before. It’s innocent, just your bare knee bumping his shin as you re-cross your legs. Still, it leaves his tingling through the fabric of his joggers when you don’t move away.

The silence surges as it settles, crinkling like static in his ears. He almost doesn’t hear you when you ask him again: “What’s it mean?”

Uhhhh.

“It means —”

Unfortunately for him, the water he just forcibly ejected from his mouth didn’t help him. His throat is dry now, and he sounds strangled, he’s sure. The way you’re watching him so intently doesn’t help one fucking bit, either.

Are you doing that on purpose?

You nudge him physically this time, knuckles connecting gently and playfully with his leg. He wonders if you can hear his heart hammering against the wall of his chest in all of this quiet. You might, he figures, especially when you tuck your hair behind your ear.

Instinctively, his eyes flick down to the length of your neck. Without a curtain of hair in the way, it’s even more exposed skin that he doesn’t know what the fuck to do with. Making matters worse for him, you tilt your head to the side expectantly. His breath catches when he tears his gaze away, back up, and sees the way you’re looking at him now.

You are absolutely — without a goddamn doubt — doing this on purpose.

If that’s the game you want to play, Seokjin can play it, too. He turns away from you to set the bottle back down on the coaster he took it from. As he does, he finally answers your question — the nonchalance he’s faking even sounds convincing.

“It’s an unenforceable promise,” he replies casually. “One with insufficient consideration.”

He rights himself in his seat, stretches a bit further backwards until he’s resting comfortably against the arm of the couch. You hide it well, but there’s a hint of a pout on your lips when you clock the newfound distance. 

Check, he smirks to himself, your move.

A flash of pink slips out. Your tongue wetting those lips before you prompt him more quietly than before, “And consideration is…?”

He slips up, makes the mistake of noticing the rise and fall of your chest as you take measured breaths. So, he sees, you’re buzzing with anticipation, too. He wonders if it’s him that’s having that effect on you, or the circumstances. 

For all he knows, it could be pent up steam that you need to release. Stress weighing down your body that you want to get off.

Fuck, he wants to get you off.

He swallows thickly. “Can’t get something for nothing. There has to be an exchange, otherwise it’s meaningless.”

You say nothing, so he keeps talking.

“Quid pro quo, essentially,” Seokjin adds. He chuckles slightly when he realizes. “See? Told you. It’s all fucking Latin.”

The corner of your mouth twitches at his joke, but you don’t make a sound. The hand that previously pushed against his leg inches closer, just barely. It’s such a small shift that you don’t seem to realize that you’re moving it. 

Maybe you feel that pull, too; the one he’s been fighting since you barged into his life without warning. 

Maybe the consideration has been there from the start; a promise for a promise. I’ll jump if you do. Because it’s always been that way, hasn’t it? Since orientation.

Pulling all-nighters in the library, developing matching caffeine dependencies, getting sick too often from the strain of it all. 

You and him.

Laughing quietly in the back of lectures, cold sweats through cold calls, bitching about unpaid internships while you spend indisposable income at the bar down the block without acknowledging the irony.

There are only two real differences between this night and that first one, he notes.

Now, Seokjin isn’t questioning every decision he’s ever made that led him to this point. He’s not scared shitless, not really. Not when you’re around.

You cut through the silence with a sigh that’s barely more than an exhale, so breathy that your voice dissipates as soon as it hits the air.

“Seokjin.”

He could probably hear a pin if you dropped one — can hear everything you don’t say. It’s all packed tight inside that utterance of his name like gunpowder, locked and loaded. 

So, who shoots first?

You shift again. Now, when you speak, it’s deliberate and in a language he can parse.

“Tell me you want me, too.”

Bang!

His body answers for him, pushes off from where he leans until he can get his knees underneath him. He’s waited three years to kiss you, but he can delay gratification for the brief time it takes to overtake you. Pinned with his palms bearing weight on either side of your head, you wind up caged in and breathless beneath him. His right knee occupies the space between your spread thighs.

Again, it’s a miracle he’s made it this far with you around.

He hums, beyond pleased with the position he finds himself in. “Maybe. Tell me if I got the answer right.”

“Oh my god.” You toss your head back to the extent that you can, which admittedly isn’t far. Your frustration rolls off you in waves, heat palpable. “I’ll kill you, I swear.”

“Sounds admissible to me,” he teases further. He flexes an eyebrow. “Isn’t that an exception to the prohibition of hearsay evidence? Speaks to motive, I think.”

Seokjin has no idea why he’s riling himself up like this. If he could shut up — just this once — he could be kissing you by now. You seem to be aware of that fact, too, because you grip his shirt so desperately, one right move might tear it.

You huff out a laugh despite the circumstances,  “This friendship is over, by the way, in case that’s not clear.”

That tiny smile on your face spreads to his. Not over, he knows, just modified. Amplified, finally. Knowing that, he continues to push his luck. 

“Can I make one more joke?”

“So over!” You emphasize with a wail.

He takes a second to center himself before hitting you with award-winning drama, sincerity dipped in the kind of humor he never misses out on with you: 

“You have adversely possessed my heart.”

Your jaw drops at how stupid that line was, but you reign it in just in time for his lips to crash into yours. 

It almost knocks the wind out of him, the way the pieces fall with force into place. They slot together easily, just like you do. With fingers clinging, the weight of his body molding overtop of yours. 

You kiss him until he forgets what life tasted like without your tongue licking into him, your little moans melting in his mouth — until you break apart, gasping for air. Panting, you ask, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting on you?” 

He doesn’t, no, not at all. Thankfully, you take his stunned silence for what it’s worth. After relinquishing your grip on his shirt, you bring your hands up to cup his face gently in your palms. 

With you touching him like this, he has no option but to stare down at you. Bit redundant, he thinks, since his focus has always been locked right here, right on you, by choice. Given that, it’s a little funny that he managed to miss every signal you’ve apparently sent him. But really, it doesn’t necessarily surprise him to hear that he’s even dumber than he thought.

You kiss him slowly this time, briefly, before nipping affectionately at his bottom lip. It drives him exactly as crazy as you want it to; makes his cock twitch inside his joggers, makes his brain foggy with a potent combination of fondness and filth.

Do you have any idea how many times he’s thought about this? He’s genuinely wondering because even he doesn’t know. He’s lost count of all the times he’s watched you nibble on your own lip and wished it was his instead. A million or more, if he has to guess.

Seeming to sense the way you've scrambled his brain, you nudge the tip of his nose with yours and giggle.

Seokjin can’t help but grin. “What’s so funny?”

“Thought of a good one,” you answer. Your smirk does his head in. The contrasting, goofy wiggle of your eyebrows squeezes his heart. “Better than yours, I think.”

He kisses you quick and hums, “Oh?”

You nod. 

The suspense is killing him. So is the way your clothed cunt grinds ever so slightly against his thigh. 

Fuck. 

He wants you, he wants you, he wants you. 

“You gonna make me come, Seokjin, or do I have to wait for you to file a subpoena?”

You may have to seek a refund for the prep course you paid for. 

For as long as you can remember, you’ve learned best through application. You could read the same chapter, over and over, and not absorb a word. The same was true with lectures, even more so when they’re pre-recorded rambles by the weirdest adjunct professors known to man. Sure, you may eventually memorize concepts this way, but they don’t sink in deeply enough to stay. You can’t use them in any way that helps you.

To no one’s surprise, no part of your civil procedure lecture sticks until it falls into your lap. 

Strike that. 

Until Seokjin loses his balance in trying to take his pants off, and falls onto your floor with a yelp.

A moment or two passes while you stare at each other in shock, but that dissolves quickly. And so do both of you, right into another fit of laughter that makes your shoulders shake. Then, you jump to your feet and hold your hands out to him.

Seokjin accepts them, though he doesn’t rely on them at all when he stands back up. He seems more than content just to hold onto you, whether or not he needs you to keep him steady. You have no complaints, for once in your life.

Shaking his head, he chuckles, “Venue change?”

“I think —” You hum and kiss the column of his throat. He swallows hard enough that you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips. So sensitive.  “This is what they call forum non conveniens.”

He’s having none of that, and you don’t necessarily blame him. As it turns out, the shoe isn’t terribly comfortable when it’s on the other foot.

You’re lifted without warning, bent over his shoulder, and hauled off in the direction of your bedroom before you can even squeak in protest. You drop like a bag of dirt — albeit a beloved bag of dirt — onto your mattress once he reaches it; his lips are on yours to swallow the gasp before it can leave your mouth.

As eager as his mouth are his hands, roaming down the curve of your waist and over your hips. With fistfuls of the pajama shorts you hadn’t bothered to change out of, his head dips down under your jaw. The warmth of his breath is quickly replaced by that of his tongue, flicking a short, languid line along your neck.

“Want you so fucking bad,” he breathes. A shiver shoots straight down your spine and you keen, head crashing gracelessly back against the pillows. “Just like this.”

And he means it — you can feel how true it is with him settled between your spread legs. He presses his hips forward to meet your clothed cunt, cock teasing you through four goddamn layers’ worth of fabric.

His lips flutter against your earlobe just seconds before his teeth graze your flesh. He continues, voice vibrating through his chest to yours, “All the time.”

You outright whimper when he grinds against you a second time. Halfway to crazy, you knot your fingers in his hair and wrap your legs around his back in a silent plea for friction. So hungry for him that it aches.

“Seokjin, need — oh, god.” 

You lose your train of thought the second his hand slides into the gap between your bodies. Long fingers slip below the waistband of your shorts and panties, too. He doesn’t stop there. Not with fingertips whispering over the mound of your cunt, not until he finds you wet and wanting.

So wet that you can hear it when the pad of his index finger runs along your slit.

His mouth curves against your neck, prompting you to shift your head on the pillow. You tilt your neck just enough to meet his eyes. 

To your surprise, he’s not smirking. Not even close. If anything, he looks awestruck. Like he’s finally realizing what he does to you, how your body reacts to him. From the looks of it, that discovery is flipping his whole damn world upside down.

For once, Seokjin doesn’t crack a joke and neither do you. It’s quiet, save for your tiny gasping breaths and the ripple of his fingertip swirling over your clit. Even the moan building in your chest gets the memo. It disappears somewhere in your throat when — fucking finally — that middle finger penetrates you.

And god, he sounds so wrecked when he finally speaks. 

“Tried to imagine it a thousand times, you know,” he murmurs. 

You clench around his finger as it curls upwards, shiver when he starts to stroke the sensitive spot along your front wall. His thumb picks up where his middle finger left off, pressing against your clit in a way that makes you mewl.

Seokjin only stops talking to kiss you deep and leave you dizzy. It’s too brief. If asked, you’d never be able to quantify what amount of time is enough, but you know that wasn’t, so you pout.

Ignoring your little whines, he continues with a hum, “How perfect you’d feel, if I ever got this lucky.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

You laugh as you say it, but you’re dead serious: “If you keep talking to me like that, you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Marry me, why don’t you? Beautiful bastard.

“Threat or promise?” 

He adds a second finger; and suddenly, you’re not laughing anymore. No, the strangled sound you make while you grind against his palm isn’t funny at all, but you can’t care about that now. Your focus is stuck on remembering how to breathe. In, out. On the stars blinking behind your eyelids when they give up and flutter shut.

He works you open for him like he’s already attuned, like it’s the fiftieth time he’s finger-fucked you and not the very first. And, quite frankly, it’s embarrassing how little time it takes for him to pull you apart at the seams.

No one has ever made you cum with such little effort. You’re scared to learn what it’s like when he tries.

You catch the triumphant gleam in his eye in the split second before you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He’s earned it, you suppose, so you’ll let him relish the personal record he’s managed to set on his first time out. You might even let him brag about it, so long as he continues to make you tremble like this.

“Shit,” he chuckles low near your ear. 

If he sounds muffled, it’s because you’re still waiting for your system to reboot. He knows this, knows how fucking sensitive you are, and slides his fingers out of you as slowly as possible. Still, those aftershocks throttle you; the unintentional stimulation makes you jolt.

“Yes,” you nod helplessly, squeezing your eyes and jaw shut simultaneously. “Shit is right. Perfect analysis, no notes.”

A chaste kiss is placed on your temple. It’s petal soft and subak sweet, but it functions like a defibrillator. Within a split second, he’s revived you. Eyes now open again, you exhume your face from where you buried it and blink up at him. Warm brown eyes light up when you reappear.

He’s so fucking beautiful that you almost want to avert your eyes. Key word: almost. You’ll drink in the sight of him until you drown, you think.

Seokjin looks concerned. With a shy smile, he checks in: “You okay? We can stop right now if you’re not.”

You don’t know who they are, but you know that they don’t make them like him anymore. Which is a fucking bummer for the rest of the world — just not for you. This one is all yours.

“You quitting on me, Kim?” You let your knee fall inwards to nudge his side, and you pretend not to notice how boneless you still feel. “Didn’t wait all this time to tap out early, did you?”

He rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning, nonetheless. His warm palm massages the outside of your thigh affectionately, if only for a moment. Then, he pats his fingertips against the same spot. “Shorts off, champ.”

You follow his instructions and move to shimmy out of them, but not before snorting, “Champ?”

“Fine. Old sport?” He offers with a shit-eating grin. Your shirt smacks him in the face once you peel it off and chuck it at him. He pouts. “Hey!”

“Thanks, I hate it.” 

He tugs his shirt over his head, launches it over his shoulder without looking. Your unabashed stare immediately clocks the slight hint of his abdominal muscles. Lean, but not sharply contoured in a way that looks painful to touch. Soft. Perfect, even.

What lab were you engineered in?

“For someone with so many opinions, you don’t offer many suggestions.” He shoots you a pointed look while he unties the knot at his waistband drawstring. “What’s your proposal?”

You’d love to bite back at him. Really, you would, but he pulls his boxers down alongside his joggers, and every meaningful thought you’ve ever had goes flying out the fucking window. All that’s left is I want you, I want you, I want you.

Automatically, you reach out with a tentative hand, craving nothing more than to feel his velvet length in your hand. To your surprise, he stops you. He catches your hand in his, lifts it to his lips, and brushes a kiss over your knuckles.

“Rain check, baby,” Seokjin smiles against your skin. There it is. That’s the one. “Need to fuck you, posthaste, or I’ll simply pass away.”

You open your mouth to comment; he breezes right past you. He points to the mattress, then to the wall to your left. “On your side, love.”

That works, too.

“Face away from me.”

Never in your life have you moved so fast, all but throwing yourself down where he told you to. As you land with a slight bounce, you mouth to yourself, Posthaste? Nerd.

A second slips by, then Seokjin slips into the space behind you. His lips tickle the back of your neck when he kisses the base of it, causing you to gasp yet again. Maybe that’s just how you breathe when he’s around — like you don’t know how.

His hand drifts down the length of your side, passing over the doughy flesh of your ass. He gives it a squeeze for good measure — because of course he does — but he doesn’t linger, not now.

That hand continues until you feel his fingertips scratch affectionately at the back of your right thigh. He doesn’t need to ask; you lift your leg, allowing your knee to hinge overtop of his hand. Now that his hands are occupied, you offer yours to assist. 

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you wrap your fingers around his length. And fuck, there’s so much of it. Part of you wants to ask where the hell he thinks he’s going to fit all of it, but you’re not a quitter, so you keep your mouth shut. 

Seokjin shivers under your touch, breath catching in his throat so blatantly that you can hear it right behind your ear. 

“Hmmm,” you tease, squeezing the crown gently as you circle your wrist. “Does that work for you, champ?”

His forehead drops against your shoulder. The groan you force out of him is twice as long as necessary, followed by an unwilling laugh. “You’re right, okay? You’re fucking right. It’s awful. Just so fucking bad.”

Your thumb swipes over his leaking tip, smearing the bead of pre-cum waiting for you there. You’re relentless. “Sure you don’t like old sport better? Huh, buddy?”

“Baby,” he warns. There isn’t much heat to it, but it burns white hot in your core anyway.

The stretch of his cock does, too, when you finally stop fucking with him and start letting him fuck you. The breath he holds as he enters you slowly is let out in a shuddered groan when he bottoms out. Perfectly full and fully incapable of teasing him further, you simply melt back against his chest.

He’s careful to start, testing the waters and refusing to push you too far, too fast. You want more, though, you always have. Greedy, you rock your hips back against him to force him deeper into your weeping hole. He takes the hint, fingertips pressing bruises into the underside of your knee as he picks up his pace — and you’re far too blissed to care.

He pistons into you eagerly, deliberate. His hips clap against the flesh of your ass, but the sting of it all can’t compete with the way he splits you open. Makes you reach back to cling to any part of him you can get your hands on, claim whatever you find for keeps. Buried to the hilt, and somehow,  he’s still not close enough.

You’re close, if your fluttering walls have anything to say about it. You’re babbling, too, so lost in pleasure that you can only repeat — over and over — how fucking perfect he is. How perfect for you he is.

Seokjin peppers kisses down the curve of your shoulder as he thrusts. It’s the only real indication you have that he’s at a loss for words, too; that he’s compensating for the quiet. He kisses you with an open mouth, teeth grazing the space he finds, leaves a mess on your sweat-slicked skin.

“Fuck,” he grunts. You mewl. “Can’t stop thinking about —”

“Just like that, please.”

“— how many times I could’ve —”

You wail, “Shit, Seokjin, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

The staccato strokes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. Not when he kisses the back of your neck again, and not when he murmurs directly in your ear, “— had you like this, if I’d said something years ago.”

Please, please, please. 

It’s all you can say, again and again, as if he isn’t already giving you everything you want before you even ask for it. Responding to every movement you make, fucking into you with precision so that each vein of his cock brings friction where you crave it. Fucking you through your orgasm when it catches you in a riptide and sends you reeling.

“That’s it, baby.” His voice is soothing despite the recklessness of his thrusts. “So good for me. So fucking good.”

You’re still gushing when he snaps his hips forward and stills, cock twitching as he lets himself go inside of you. Still trembling when his head droops forward to nuzzle against your shoulder blade, and when you feel his breathing begin to slow in tandem with yours.

Once he pulls himself out of you, a few moments pass in fucked-out silence. It’s comfortable, if you ignore the mess between your thighs — and you do, for now. Your brain is too busy to waste time on that.

You’re exhausted and bordering on delirious when you say it, but that doesn’t make it any less true:

“I might love you, probably.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. He doesn’t move either, which makes you wonder if he’s fallen asleep with his face smushed into your bare back. But you feel the tiniest exhale through his nose; the kind of laugh you get from him when he’s too tired to be any louder.

His reply is muffled, lips still pressed against your skin, but you hear it perfectly.

For the record, he probably loves you, too.

final a/n: i have a follow-up drabble planned for these two! stay tuned 🥰

likes are always appreciated, but it's feedback that means the most — whether that's in a comment below, PM, reblog, tags, etc. tysm for reading ✨

tagging: @borahae-k @i-purple-buff-bunni @pamzn @myimaginationsrunningwild @nonbinary-demonbrat @jihopesjoint @cyanide-mustard @xjoonchildx @bbyorchid @persphonesorchid @quarter-life-crisis2 @zelchena @withluvjm @firesighgirl @whatthefsposts @iadelicacy @chimmisbae @cowboylikeyoongi @sailoryooons @axialitae @ugh-yoongi @minholykingofkorea @kookstempo @gimmethatagustd @Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhintothevoid

want to be on my permanent bts taglist? sign up here.

[jeonjcngkook]

incandescent | jjk

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre(s)&au(s): fluff, established relationship

rating: pg

wc: 1.3k

warnings: theyre so in love with each other🤭! koos singing voice lulls us all 🤲🏻 makin’ out, playing with koos pretty hair bcs its exactly what he deserves !!!

summary: you and your boyfriend spend a comfortable romantic night in together.

note: unedited. repost bcs the last one stopped showing in tags 🙃.

Is there anything more beautiful than the sound of your boyfriend's voice?

The deep tenors and sweet cadences lull you into a state of calm as you stretch yourself out on the couch below, listening to Jungkook reach the notes in a perfect sequence to the song he is currently singing on his karaoke machine.

Friday nights are typically spent with each other as you participate in different activities. Your relationship's own version of a ‘date night’, you could say. However, this time it had been agreed between you both that staying in and enjoying each other's company in the cosiness of the home you built together was exactly what was needed.

Earlier, Jungkook prepared dinner for you both — a spread on the table of both your favourite foods and glasses of alcohol to wash it down with. Every detail had been carefully thought of, all the way down to the scented candles, that he personally chose to match the fragrances of the food.

Now, with full tummies and even fuller hearts, you both lie within the blanket of reds, blues and greens from the stars of his favourite LED light system and a spread of mandarin & grapefruit scented candles decorating the living room.

You could listen to Jungkook’s voice all day and never be tired of it. The calming effect he has on you with his words alone is something you have always admired. It doesn’t take much for a yawn to slip through his lips, catching the attention from yourself as he continues to sing through the verse of the next song. You watch as he attempts to stifle it underneath his breath, pulling the thin knitted throw up to his face to conceal the motion.

A sweet smirk is on your lips as he continues his lacklustre attempt at concealing his tiredness. Tears cling to his lower lash line from the yawn, head falling to the side and landing on your shoulder.

“You should get some sleep,” you’re quick to say as you feel him wriggle further into your warmth, his hand finding your spare hand that isn’t holding your phone and intertwining his fingers with your own.

“I’m fine staying here with you, baby,” he mumbles back in retaliation, cutting himself off mid-song to rebuttal back, voice half asleep and rubbing at his eyes like that will do the job of removing the sleep out of it. “I like laying here with you.”

You huff a little at his words. He is too darn cute for his own good and it makes your body warm knowing that he is licking being with you over much needed rest.

“But we could lie together in bed, snuggle up nice and cosy, and then in the morning come back here and cuddle all day into the night. Doesn’t that sound like the perfect way to begin our weekend?” You reason with him.

Jungkook’s lips part open for a moment as if he had the words to argue back with but is quick to shut them and opts for putting his microphone down on the coffee table instead. He finds the remote control for the TV and lowers the volume to something less deafening and one a little more relaxing as the lofi sounds act as a background ambiance.

He turns towards you and you watch as the flickers of the candles scattered around the room flicker and dance against his skin; bathing him in an ethereal glow — just like how an angel should look. The bright vibrant amber candlelight beautifully illuminates the melanin of his skin, extenuating his tanned skin stunningly.

It doesn’t help that his shirt is loose and baggy on his upper body, sleeves cuffed half way on his upper arm showing off his pretty tattoos of striking colours and bold black lines, only for the muscle under his skin to thicken as he brings his hand up to his hair. You watch intently as both hands comb through the long curly tresses from forehead to crown; again and again and it only magnifies just how pretty your boyfriend is.

The tip of his tongue presses against his inner cheek, his cheek protruding from the outside…an action he usually does when he is deep in thought. With the way the light hits his soft skin, it perfectly shows off how sharp his jawline is and how his gentle pink lips rest in a natural pout, leaving them looking plump, pink and irresistibly kissable.

“‘m not tired,” he argues, a grin on his face as he lies himself down next to you on the L shape of the couch, pulling back the thin blanket that has been resting on the headrest of the sofa and engulfs you inside the fabric before laying his head into your lap and effectively trapping you against the back of the leather and his body. Another yawn takes over his body as you feel him stiffen as he rides it out.

You lift your hand up to his face and let your fingers play delicately with the strands of his hair, twisting it around your finger and curling it around his ear away from his face.

Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed as you continue playing with his hair, adding to his tiredness and lulling him into a state of slumber. The atmosphere is exactly what Jungkook had promised earlier…cosy.

Jungkook’s eyes slipped shut, just long enough for you to see before he is prying them back open again with as much willpower as he can possibly muster. With the feeling of your fingers gently twisting and pulling at his hair, he has no argument against his exhaustion as it finally reaches him.

You reach the tight curls at the base of his neck, fingers playing with the curls as you make sure to let your nails scratch lightly at the base of his scalp, knowing that Jungkook has no bone in his body to make this stop, enjoying your touches so much.

You have him exactly where you want him.

Jungkook’s eyes are glazed over with sleep and yet all the same still looks dreamy — the browns are rich and deep, flakes of amber dotted within his irises. Love songs are written about eyes like his. It wasn’t hard to peer into them and to see your own smile reflecting back when he looks at you.

He runs his thumb over your lower lip, parting them just slightly before he leans down, pillowy lips connecting to yours in a soft kiss.

The feeling is so fulfilling that it is enough to make your eyelids flutter shut and your heart racing in your chest with blissful warmth as he presses his mouth deeper into yours. Even in a state of sleep, the kiss is still filled with emotion — passionate and sensual.

Jungkook moans as his mouth continues to work over yours, his teeth catching your lower lip and biting down with little pressure and letting it snap back before chasing your mouth for a second kiss.

Your hands run through his hair,nails grazing his scalp enticingly, eliciting another moan from deep within his chest. The way you kiss him has him seeing stars; dazed and lost in the touch of your lips. You caress his face with delicate touches, tongues flicking across his mouth and the way you counter back by nibbling in his own bottom lip before breaking the kiss.

Endearingly, you both press your foreheads together and close your eyes with a smile on both your lips.

Jungkook’s hand finds home on his hip before slipping underneath the cotton material of your t-shirt and resting his hands there. His thumb runs tracks over your skin in back and forth strokes as you bask in the calming, soothing sensation.

You feel his foot nudge open your legs as he tangles his limbs with yours and pulls you impossibly closer to you, your own leg now resting on top of his lip as you lock each other within the other's arms.

The feeling of Jungkook’s breath against your skin causes goosebumps to travel over your body, the warmth now turning into a small bonfire as love for the sleepy man in your arms ignites and burns bright.

It isn’t long before his breathing becomes drawn out and even, loud snores whistling through his nose and his thumb slows its movements as he eventually falls asleep in your arms.

“So much for not being sleepy,” you mock him as if he could hear, when deep down you wish that he had taken off into a dreamy slumber.

With gentle ease, you press the palm of your hand against his full cheek and brush your thumb over his cheeks the same way he did with your hip moments ago. You press your head against his forehead and land a tiny, light, airy kiss on his pouty lips.

You close your own eyes, listening to the flickering sounds of the small candles around the living room as well as concentrating on the rhythm of Jungkook’s breathing, hoping to ease yourself into your own slumber.

What felt like a moment later, Jungkook tightens his hold on you, whispering a small ‘i love you’, before sleep eventually blankets over you.

[kentoberry]

YOU GET SICK ! — jjk men.

ABOUT : how the jjk men take care of their sick s/o !

STARRING : toji fushiguro, kento nanami, satoru gojo.

NOTES : gn reader , mention of being throwing up in nanami's part. — this is 100% self indulgent and i can't even hide it. [ minors dni as i post nsft content. ]

TOJI FUSHIGURO

· he's trying his best, and that's what counts.

· at first, you might find that toji accidentally babies you. it's somewhat condescending, but his only experience in dealing with sick people comes from how he perceived nannies in the zen'in clan taking care of poorly toddlers. he'll definitely be making airplane noises when he spoonfeeds you some medicine, and would even swaddle you in cosy blankets like you would an actual baby. although annoying, it's something extremely endearing. you can even see the tips of his ears turn red in embarrassment when you offer him some pointers.

· affection isn't toji's strong suit, but when you're not feeling the best, he's surprisingly sweet (so much that you wish you got sick more often). he knows he's warm, so he keeps you wrapped in not only a bundle of blankets, but his arms too. you can use him like your personal heater, and he won't complain one bit. expect a lot of cuddles and even more forehead kisses !!

· toji also tries to pick up as many household chores as he can ! he'll cook something simple for you, make sure all of the dishes are done, and every room stays mostly spotless. he'll let you help out a little bit (for example, he lets you bark orders at him whilst he cooks!).

NANAMI KENTO

· lord. . . he's perfect.

· nanami is attentive, yet rigorous when it comes to taking medications, eating enough, and staying hydrated. he's working from home whilst you're sick, and will be extremely stubborn if you try to convince him that you'll be okay and that he should go in to work.

· whether you're feeling too hot or too cold, nanami likes to have you lay with your head in his lap. he'll wrap you in many blankets if it's the latter, tucking you in tightly while you watch something of your choosing on the tv. he adores this position because it makes him feel as though he can watch over you best, and he can't deny how darn cute you look whenever you gaze up at him. usually he'll have one arm draped over your torso and another propping up his book.

· speaking of books, if you struggle to get comfortable or to sleep, nanami will offer to read to you. his deep voice is extremely calming, and you'll find youself relaxing in his hold in no time. either he'll simply pick up whatever book is closest too him and narrate a few chapters, or (especially if you're really struggling) he'll grab one of your favourite tales off of the shelf and read it to you.

· you don't need to worry about anything at all, nanami has it covered! he's cooking every meal, ensuring that your cabinets and fridge is staying stocked full, and even taking care of your laundry. further proof that he thought of everything can be seen in the scrunchie that he keeps on his wrist, a quick solution if you find yourself hunched over in the bathroom and need your hair kept out of your face.

SATORU GOJO

· man child.

· satoru is one to boast about never getting sick himself, so when his s/o finds themselves falling under the weather, he panics. shoko has to put her phone on silent because of the wall of texts that he sends her, full of questions and panicked exclamations. she'll offer up some general advice to shut him up, because she can tell that he's acting a little bit overdramatic, even through text.

· when gojo finally gets himself together, he transforms into a big teddy bear. the man doesn't realise that he too will fall ill if he doesn't stop peppering butterfly kisses all over your face. you had to use a chunk of your depleted energy to fend him off of you, but even then satoru refuses to remove his arms from your waist.

· he carries you everywhere too !! he carries you into the bathroom and sits you on the counter whilst you both brush your teeth, settles you down on a barstool in the kitchen as he struggles to find something in his cupboards that isn't overwhelmingly sweet.

· in the end, satoru settles for locating every single blanket and pillow in his apartment and building a makeshift nest on the couches. he orders any takeout foods you crave, and will certainly abuse his power and have some of his students pick up any medications or other things that you need. the remainder of the day is spent bundled up together and watching some of your favourite shows and movies, and satoru watching over you as you doze off in his arms.

[starxluv]

||Kaede and Korekiyo with a Obsessive/Stalker G/N Reader

i guess you could take this in a yandere sense if you want to 🤷‍♀️

oh yeah, and I’m making this take place in the killing game

Kaede Akamatsu 🎹💗

On the first day that you guys met, you were a bit too ‘clingy’.

It was odd, but she just assumed that you were just being overly friendly and acted like that with everyone.

Well, she didn’t exactly see you interact with anyone else but her.

In the morning, you were always standing at the door of her dorm room.

“Good morning Kaede! I see you’re ready to head to the dining hall, we should go there together!”

“Er…How long have you been standing here?”

“About 30 minutes.”

The odd thing about it is that you seemed to not notice anything wrong with the way you acted.

“You don’t see anything weird about that?”

Kaede asked you, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

“Nope!” You exclaimed as you grabbed her hand and started walking towards the school.

She was definitely feeling fear rise in her stomach, what was stopping you from killing her on the spot?

“You look so cute today! Did you do something new with your hair?”

Kaede was surprised, she did infact do a new thing with her hair. But, it was very hard to see.

“Wow, you really pay attention to me that much? I’m flattered, Y/N.”

“Of course I do! I watch you every single day.”

That’s when Kaede stopped walking, all of the alarms went off in her head.

“W-watch me? What do you mean ‘you watch me daily’?”

“Well, I watch you play piano, talk to Shuichi, sleep-“

“SLEEP?” Kaede cut you off once she heard that you watch her sleep.

“Not only are those things you just mentioned you weren’t there for. But, sleep?! What the fuck…?”

“Of course I watch you sleep, doesn’t everyone watch people rest?”

“NO. No, no, no! Only creeps do that.”

“Oh. Good thing I’m not a creep.”

She looked up at you, stepping away slowly.

“Sorry about this, but I think it’s best if I walk to the dining hall…alone…”

“Aww, why?”

You asked as she sprinted away from you.

Little did she know, this wasn’t the last she’d see you at her front door.

Korekiyo Shinguji📚

He thought you were very ‘interesting’.

That’s his replacement word for weird af.

Nobody really paid any attention to him, but you did.

He was very observant of his surroundings, and well, you weren’t the best at hiding.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

He looked at you dead in the eye as you were trying to hide in a bush.

“……just living life….”

He feels flattered that you’re so interested in him, It’s very unusual for him.

(i’m trying so goddamn hard not to make this NSFW 😩)

He didn’t even introduce himself to you, yet you were already all over him.

“Kukuku, your rather ‘special’ nature makes you all the more beautiful.”

Though, he does get annoyed by it sometimes. Especially when he’s trying to do something in private.

—————————————————————————-

Korekiyo was planning his infamous ‘seesaw attack’ as he messed with the floorboards.

“Hey Kiyo!”

He turned around as he saw you standing right behind him with a big grin on your face.

“W-what the-? How did you get in?! I locked the door!”

“I couldn’t get in so I took off the door, duh!”

Kiyo looked behind you to see that you quite literally used a screwdriver to unscrew the door off.

“Anyways, what are you doing?”

He knew he couldn’t actually tell you what he was doing, that would fuck up his entire plan.

But, he was very aware of your obsession with him, so perhaps you could help him.

“Hm, well Y/N, I’m working on an ‘experiment’ with these floorboards. I’m trying to see if they’re are capable of harming a human being.”

“Of course they’re capable of harming people, Kiyo. I’m not stupid. Tell me the truth.

Gosh darn it, he really did think that excuse would work with you.

It felt like his only option was to tell you the truth, if you didn’t want to help afterwards, he could just kill you.

“If you insist, I shall give you the truth, I’m setting up a murder trap.”

You stared at him, thinking to yourself if you should, run or stay.

It wasn’t completely morally correct to stay and help, but you stalking him proved that you barely have morals.

“Can I help?”

“Of course, Y/N.”

Korekiyo proceeded to win the killing game and live a good life. You died with all the others.