#I think my sleep meds are kicking in what the fuck is this

[sailorsoons]

ANOTHA DAY ANOTHA REPOST OF MY ORIGINAL REVIEW OF THIS FUCKING MF FIC. WOW. I LOVE DIS ONE.

This one is for all of my sleepy hot girls (gn) and the demons (existing) that keep them up at night because WE DESERVE TO SLEEP AND NOW I'M KIND OF FUCKING MAD THAT I HAVE TO TAKE AMBIEN WHEN I COULD BE TAKING LEE JIHOON???

Putting a cut because this review is actually me just babbling at Jade because I'm so mad and this is so good and I've never wanted something so much before ok

GOD I'm obsessed with this. LIterally the way you write Jihoon is dfogijdogisdjrgt it like turns my brain to static how he's just like very gentle and soft spoken but also incredibly firm and I literally am shaking in my boots right now I want him so baaaaad Jade lmao you have made my Jihoon desire go 📈📈📈📈📈📈📈📈

The "that's enough" actually make my stomach drop to my asshole and I rolled over in bed and screaming into my pillow and kicked my feet that was so embarrassing for me oh my goddddddddd.

This paragraph has ruined me:

Whatever effect Jihoon has on you seems to be mutual. When he pulls back, he’s equally as breathless, likely just as starry-eyed. Awash in that lilac glow peeking in from the outside, he’s downright celestial — almost too divine to look at directly without watering eyes.

I'm insane, I literally feel feral. Awash in the lilac glow and the almost too divine I'm literally going to fucking come undone because WHAT THE FUCK that is so beautiful but also like - such a SPECIFIC muted color in the darkness that I inherently understand and god dammit I hate you!!!!!

Anyways I don't really know how you expect me to go to bed ever again and just take meds when this scenario now exists. I will now make it my sole responsibility to @ you in our server every night at 3:30 AM when I'm in goblin hours and then think wow, sure wish Jihoon could fix me which will ultimately make me mad and shake a hair brush at you angrily like that one meme.

Also out of context picture of reader at the end of this:

insomniac | ljh (m)

there are certainly worse ways to tire yourself out.

summary: it’s 2:00 am, and you can’t turn your brain off. thankfully, your boyfriend knows just how to scramble it. pairing: lee jihoon x reader au: established relationship type: one-shot (smut) word count: 5.2k rating: 18+ cw: reader is afab but no pronouns are used; reader has insomnia (unspecified re: prof. diagnosed or self-diagnosed); there’s a sentence about reader taking “an inadvisable amount of melatonin gummies” — don’t do this! — but they’re not impaired in any way; reader’s internal monologue is kind of angsty/self-deprecating at times; blonde!woozi has his hair in a bun, which is a warning in and of itself; completely unedited because my perfectionism has killed every wip i’ve attempted for months. ✰ minors do not have my consent to interact with me and/or my work. smut warnings: big dick lee jihoon™️, nipple stim, v fingering, unprotected p in v penetration, wee bit of aftercare. there are a total of six (6) orgasms in here because i believe in going big from home, incl. nipple stim & a-spot orgasms. a/n: i haven’t written anything in forever, due in large part to the fact that i’m exhausted but can never fucking sleep. i truly hope this isn’t incoherent garbage. 😵‍💫 dedicated to my fellow woozi-simping insomniac, @sailorrhansol. may we eventually rest in peace. multi permanent taglist. seventeen permanent taglist.

You should be asleep.

With the day you’ve had, you should’ve drifted off the second your body hit the sheets; and you should’ve stayed that way — unmoving, unconscious — for several hours, at minimum.

If the week’s worth of sleep debt wasn’t exhausting enough in and of itself, every single circumstance surrounding you begs you to give into the weight of your eyelids. To let yourself be lulled, just this once. Soothed.

From the vent in the corner, the gentle hum of the aircon goads you. It does its very best to convince you to curl up under the softness of your comforter, and to some extent, you’ve listened. You’re burrowed beneath your blankets with only the upper half of your face exposed, which should be more than enough to sway you. 

It’s not, though.

With no ability to keep your eyes closed, you stare dejectedly at the wall in front of you. Laying on your side, gazing straight ahead, you watch the faint echoes of the city lights as they wash over white paint. Not much bleeds through the blinds, leaving only hints of cobalt and red to blend into some sleepy shade of lilac. Whether or not you want to be awake to perceive it in the first place, you have to admit it: it’s beautiful.

But it’s not enough.

You squeeze your eyes shut, swallowing down the groan building in your chest. With how closely he’s got you nestled against his body, Jihoon would feel it if you let that frustration manifest. You already ache from the sheer amount of time you’ve been policing your own posture; making any amount of noise now would interrupt the slow, delicate breaths he’s aiming into the back of your neck. Frankly, you’d rather die.

Taking his silence as a sign that you’ve remained off his radar, you let out a measured sigh, too worried that the full rise and fall of your chest will disturb him. 

Nothing.

But then, the arm draped over your waist shifts. 

“Fuck,” you mouth to no one.

It wouldn’t be out-of-character for Jihoon to feel the restless energy pouring out of you in waves, even in the depths of a sleep cycle. He senses every tiny change in your ecosystem long before you do. As unlikely as he is to ever admit it, it has to be exhausting to be attuned to someone so neurotic. He deserves every second of sleep he can manage to get.

You grit your teeth and demand yourself to calm down, all while refusing to acknowledge how completely your actions and commands conflict.  

Maybe, you attempt to bamboozle yourself, you can sleep vicariously through him. 

He’ll wake up rested, and when you look in the mirror later, the first thing you see won’t be the cartoonish bags under your eyes.

It’ll be fine. 

It’ll be fine.

If you go to sleep right now, you’ll get five hours and thirty —

“You haven’t unclenched a single muscle since you climbed into bed,” notes the world’s groggiest voice from over your shoulder.

Jihoon’s lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck when he speaks. Without that tickling sensation, you might’ve deluded yourself into thinking that you were simply hearing things just now. That it was merely a hallucination brought on by sleep deprivation and the inadvisable number of melatonin gummies you ate before brushing your teeth.

He shifts again. This time, there’s no mistaking his movements. The arm slung over your side pulls you closer. So close, in fact, that you can feel the contented sigh leave his body, like his isn’t separate from yours at all.

With the distance erased, his face — the cold tip of his nose and the sheet-creased warmth of his cheeks — can nuzzle properly into the crook of your neck. You swear you feel the hint of a smile there somewhere, too. If you had to guess, it matches the upward curve on your lips.

“What are we spinning our wheels over tonight?” He asks without a hint of judgment, as if your burdens are automatically his, too.

The fact that he can’t see your face doesn’t stop you from frowning. Yet again, you’ve managed to drag him into your insomnia. Jihoon may never fault you for it, but you don’t need him to. You’ll hold it against yourself — grudge by proxy. 

“I don’t even know,” you admit with a frustrated huff. “There’s nothing coherent going on up there.” You lift your hand and gesture vaguely in the dark. “Nothing articulable, just… blender brain.”

“Mmm.”

Jihoon sounds so fucking sleepy, so at peace next to you, that it makes your stomach hurt. You wish you could be like him. For as calm as his presence makes you, you’ve learned that you’re incapable of feeling fully relaxed. At least, not in the way he is when he’s got his arms around you. He deserves to have that effect on you.

A beat passes in silence, save for his soft breathing. For a minute, you’re convinced that he’s fallen back asleep; and you pray to whoever that he has. He deserves that, too.

“How do we unplug the blender?”

You have to bite back a smile for two reasons: the way his words sound slurred when delivered directly to your skin, and the distinctly Jihoon drive he has to fix a problem that isn’t his.

When the love sickness leaves you down bad, and you forget to respond with words, Jihoon prompts you softly. “Hmm?” 

He punctuates this reminder with a kiss to your shoulder, then lets his lips linger against your skin, musing, “I can think of two things that usually do the trick: getting you hotteok from that cart down the block, which is currently closed, and —”

The rest of that thought fades out. Leaving you on the edge of your seat, Jihoon continues to kiss a languid line along the perimeter of your shoulder, as if he’s conducting some meticulous, geographical survey. Like missing a single spot will have grave consequences. A perfectionist through and through, even half-asleep.

You feel yourself melting, bit by bit, into his torso; the warmth of his bare chest against your back only expedites the process. Nevertheless, you peep, “What’s the second thing?”

His answer comes with a slip of his hand, down down down along the slope of your waist to your hip, long before he verbalizes it. It’s simple, delivered in that rough, early-morning voice you love so much. It’s more than enough to make you shiver:

“Making you cum.”

But as crazy as that statement makes you, you can’t make yourself act on it.

At any other time, you’d jump on that opportunity — jump on him — in a heartbeat. All you’re able to do now is jump to the worst conclusion in a single bound. 

Somewhere, deep down, you know he wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t truly want it, want you; but that goddamned, sleep-deprived goblin taking up space in the far reaches of your mind is far louder than the voice of reason.

He’s only offering so you’ll stop keeping him awake.

He’s as exhausted as you are, if not more so for having to deal with your disorder again.

Burden.

Placing your hand on top of his, you slip your fingers into the spaces you find and squeeze once for emphasis. “I love you,” you start. He stills. “But, Jihoon, you’re so tired. I can hear it in your voice. Please, go back to sleep. It’s okay — I’m okay.”

Jihoon doesn’t push back. He stays within bounds, honors your shitty decision because, after all, it’s yours to make. With another kiss to your shoulder and a squeeze to your hand, he murmurs, “Love you,” before relaxing back against the pillows.

Minutes pass.

Maybe hours, for all you know. 

As the window of opportunity creaks shut, regret seeps through the gap. You know you’re wrong; you know he meant it; and you know that someone would have to be out of their fucking gourd to politely decline what he’s offering.

The unbearable heat licking up your neck is either embarrassment or the ghost of orgasms lost coming to haunt you.

Maybe you’d be better equipped to tell the difference if you could just — fucking — sleep.

Driven half mad, you try to keep from squirming.

You fail.

Maybe, since you can’t sleep, you and your wilted little brain should’ve let your perfect, empathetic boyfriend fu —

“That’s enough,” Jihoon grunts.

The hand underneath yours is suddenly above it, overtaking it and tugging carefully until your whole body moves. In the time it takes for you to roll from your side, Jihoon sits up and clears space for your frame to settle. You barely have time to blink dumbly up at him from your back before he cages you in with one hand on either side of your head, knees now on either side of your thighs.

Your breath seems to have gotten lost in the fray, but it’s not the sudden moves that shook it loose; it’s the sight of him looming over you, damn near scowling despite his lead-lidded eyes. It’s the disheveled bun of platinum hair at the crown of his head, which must’ve shifted in his sleep and spilled out the tendrils that now frame his set jaw.

The very best you can come up with is, “You’re awake.”

“So are you,” he retorts without missing a beat.

That face — god, that face — doesn’t budge. On the contrary, your stomach flips. This the most stern you’ve ever seen him. Confusingly, his tone isn’t even remotely harsh when he continues, “If those gears in your head grind any louder, the whole neighborhood will be, too.”

Grimacing, you open your mouth to apologize, but Jihoon’s eyes are searching your face with a distinct flicker of concern. You know that look. You also know that nothing you can think to say will make it disappear.

He speaks when you don’t, hard edges softening slightly. “I can fix it,” he insists, though you know him well enough to hear the plea hidden in there. 

Let me take care of you.

That little spark of desperation burns you up in a flash. You wonder if he can feel the fire spread when he lifts his right hand off the mattress just to swipe his thumb slowly over the edge of your cheekbone. Without thinking, you let go of the tension in your neck. Your head tilts automatically, seeking comfort you’ve only ever found in him, and rests against his palm.

“I have to admit it, though,” Jihoon confesses. “Yours isn’t the only mind that’s restless.”

He moves his hand away from your face but keeps his eyes trained on you. The incessant need you feel to apologize bubbles up yet again, uninvited. You swallow it. As you do, his fingertips trail down the length of your neck at a snail’s pace, effectively turning your thoughts to static.

“I’ve been holding you for hours now, and all that time —” 

He pauses just long enough to glance down at his hand, which hasn’t.

“— I’ve been wondering if I should have you channel that energy and tire yourself out on top of me —”

His touch whispers over your collarbone. It’s the only proof that you have any bones at all. Until now, you were sure that the rest of you had melted entirely, puddling uselessly on the sheets below. This time, when you bite your lips and swallow weakly, it’s not an apology that you’re keeping to yourself but a whimper.

“— or lay you back against the pillows —”

You don’t mean to directly contradict his statement the moment he makes it, but you can’t help it. The thin, cotton fabric of your top does nothing to dull the sensation of his hand on your left breast; leaves you with the unmitigated brush of his thumb tracing delicate swirls over your nipple. The breath you’ve been holding comes out shuddered, back arching off the mattress to chase his touch.

Emboldened by your reaction, Jihoon pulls his gaze off his own ministrations and directs it through his lashes back up at you. One eyebrow momentarily flexes in challenge. “— Take my time, and —”

Whatever desperate look you give him earns you some amount of mercy. He picks up where he left off in that dizzyingly deep voice of his, words molten, and drags the hem of your shirt up your torso. “Fuck you deep, until the only thing you can do is relax.”

Gobsmacked is too weak a word for the impact that suggestion has on you. The idea alone sparks a kind of relief so foreign and so sorely needed that it almost makes you cry. 

You don’t, thankfully. 

Instead, you stagger along the borderline of babbling. 

“I want that,” you announce on a shaky exhale. Then, with a shake of your head, you correct yourself, “No, it’s not even want. It’s —” Frustration over your inability to form a coherent thought drives you to scrub your hands over your face. “— need. I need you.”

You accompany that declaration by slapping your hands down at your sides, finishing off with a muted thump when your palms hit the mattress with enough force to bounce them upwards again. 

Even with your eyes screwed shut, you know Jihoon is sitting back on his knees, watching you with equal parts surprise and amusement. There’s no need to open them to confirm it, but you do anyway. His pupils have dilated widely enough to rival the moon floating over the skyline.

Though he’d be well within bounds to tell you to chill the fuck out, he doesn’t. He never has, as far as you can recall. In fact, Jihoon doesn’t say a thing. His hands speak for him, reaching for the shirt he so nearly got off your body before you lost whatever was left of your mind.

Keeping his word, as always, Jihoon takes his time. He takes care in sliding that tank top up and over your head without snagging your earrings, then he wordlessly drops it off the side of the bed to be forgotten about.

With your chest bare, it’s obvious how rapid your breathing is. Noting the quick rise and fall, he traces the curve of your waist with the side of his right index finger and softly says the quiet part out loud: “Let me take care of you.”

And you do.

You let him maneuver your body so he can settle with one knee between your thighs, rather than straddle them. You let go of your death grip on the sheets and thread your fingers through his hair when he leans back down to kiss you; and when he licks into your mouth, you let him swallow the moan that builds under the delicious weight of his body on yours.

Already, you feel every shitty, stupid thought begin to dissolve. You should’ve known this would be the case. 

He said he’d fix it, didn't he? 

And here he is, proving to you that his touch is magic. All it takes to coax the tension out of your muscles is the tender pass of his hand.

Whatever effect Jihoon has on you seems to be mutual. When he pulls back, he’s equally as breathless, likely just as starry-eyed. Awash in that lilac glow peeking in from the outside, he’s downright celestial — almost too divine to look at directly without watering eyes.

Undeterred, you stare right back at him and sigh, “You’re beautiful.”

His nose scrunches for a split second, just like it always does when you make him suffer through a compliment. Your exposure therapy is working, though. For once, Jihoon doesn’t groan or tell you to keep your praise to yourself. The corner of his mouth curves upward — just barely — and he shakes his head.

“I mean it,” you quietly insist.

Smirking slightly, he extends the index finger on his right hand and holds it to his lips. “You’re relaxing, remember?”

Though you could double-down, any fight you might’ve had in you fizzles out the second he bows his head and connects his lips to the underside of your jaw. Your head tilts further back with every centimeter he trails down the length of your neck, granting him increased access to wreck you even further. You have to keep your hands on whatever you can grip of his biceps — which ultimately isn’t much at all — to keep from floating away.

“Bold of you to call me beautiful,” he murmurs against your body, “When you just exist like this.”

You don’t argue. You can’t argue with a man who sounds so fucking reverent. Not in good faith, anyway. He says it with the kind of sincerity that underlines an undisputed fact; and you know better than to debate an expert.

With nothing to say, all you have left is to keen and melt even further into the mattress.

Like everything else he does, the way Jihoon kisses you is rhythmic. Steady and thoughtful, each feather-light graze of his lips on your skin causes your eyelids to flutter until you eventually decide to keep them shut. To cut out the visual and hone in on the physical sensation; to be truly present in the body he can’t get enough of.

As it turns out, being present earns the gift of his tongue circling one of your nipples. Soon after, you get the plush heat of his mouth enveloping the sensitive bud; the slow, deep pull of the suction he creates.

Eloquent as always, you moan, “Fuuuuck.”

The hand not holding up his weight massages your other breast, too considerate to leave half of you lonely. Whatever gentle pressure he maintains there builds inside you, further down.

It’s incredible.

No, it’s fucking perfect.

Jihoon switches sides, grazes your other nipple carefully with his teeth, and it’s over for you. You shudder beneath his body, back arching and a breathy sigh floating out of your chest.

Apparently, he’s just as surprised by this turn of events as you are. Your eyes blink open and find him hovering over you with his jaw partially dropped, still smiling somehow.

Your questions overlap.

“Did you just —”

“— make me cum from this?”

His bemusement switches in an instant to something you can only describe as bewitched. Voice gravel-lined, Jihoon groans, “Oh, shit.” Adding immediately and twice as earnestly, “Goddamn.”

A flash of conflict makes him freeze. You know he’s facing the same internal debate that you are: he needs to be inside of you in the worst way, right now, but that’s not a conclusion the pair of you can just — leap to. 

There’s simply too much of him to take if he doesn’t fuck you open with his fingers first.

Jihoon shakes his head, as if he’s telling himself no. Like he’s reminding himself of what he promised — or threatened, more like — earlier, that he’s taking his time.

As much as you want to beg otherwise, you know you shouldn’t. So, you don’t. You reach out, encircle his wrist in your hand, and bring him back within reach. 

With undivided attention and darkening eyes, Jihoon watches you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, cheeks hollowing and tongue circling. He fights to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, all the while professing, “You’re perfect.”

Not generally, no.

However, Jihoon has a habit of ending up correct, even if you disagree. This isn’t a battle worth picking. In this moment, you’re willing to entertain the possibility that you’re perfect for him.

A soft pop underscores your choice to release him. His mouth must’ve gotten jealous; it swiftly replaces his fingers, tongue reclaiming any territory he wrongfully assumes he’s lost.

You’d be content to stay this way forever — and likely could, if it came down to it — but Jihoon has an agenda. He sticks to it, to the letter, and in dropping his hand down your body, he lets his knuckles drag softly over the trail he blazes. The little sleep shorts you wear are moved aside, and your thighs part for him, too, offering unrestricted access.

Two fingers slip inside of you easily, no doubt aided by the orgasm that snuck up on you — the one you’re still thinking about; the one he’ll secretly hang his hat on forever, having brought it on without touching you here at all.

“Listen to you,” he smirks against your lips with a curl of his fingers. 

As if you weren’t already acutely aware of the way you’ve drenched him to the base knuckles, he rolls his wrist, stroking your g-spot while the heel of his hand nudges your clit. Even the dulcet hum of the aircon isn’t enough to mute the obscenity; you hear the slick rush with every slow thrust of his fingers.

You respond with some sort of whimper. The sound barely registers without any breath behind it. If Jihoon hears it, he doesn’t let it affect his pace — just the stretch. He scissors his middle and index on the way out, then returns with his ring finger, unearthing a proper moan from the very bottom of your lungs.

His head tilts to the side. Warm breath hits the shell of your ear, prompting a contradictory shiver. “I think you’ve got another one for me, don’t you?”

Buried in you, he taps his fingers against that same, spongy spot. Every neuron you have begins to buzz.

“In fact, I think you want to cum all over my fingers,” he whispers, goading you with his rough voice dropped low. “Think you wanna soak my fucking hand, so I can fill you properly.”

You think you’ll have to apologize later for the crescent-shaped indents your nails leave on his shoulders.

When your second orgasm overtakes you, you feel it tingling all the way up at the crown of your head. Just like the first, it’s not a clap of thunder but a roll — patient. The intensity only builds, the longer it lasts. Jihoon makes sure it does — makes no adjustment to the slow, steady tempo, as it pulls you fully apart.

Every muscle you tensed as you came goes limp. It’s anyone’s guess whether you have any bones left. You’re sure that the only thing keeping you from seeping like honey through the mattress, or pooling on the floor below, is Jihoon’s body caging you in.

“Don’t ask me what my name is.” Your head droops to the side, and you mumble, “I do not remember, and I do not care.”

He kisses the temple that isn’t smushed against his left forearm, which, coupled with his elbow, now holds both of your weight. “If you’re spent, I can sto—”

“Don’t you dare.”

The emphatic look you muster lacks energy, you’re sure, but the point still stands, even if your stamina doesn’t. Half-lidded, you stare at him with all the force you can find.

“I’ll stay awake for the rest of my life if you stop now. I swear to you, Lee Jihoon, I will die on this hill.”

“Easy, tiger,” he purrs. Out of the corner of your narrowed eyes, you clock the fond smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The whole point of this was for you to relax.”

To prove that you haven’t lost the plot entirely, you close your eyes, rather than roll them. Then, you cave completely. 

You whisper, leaving no question as to how badly you need him, “Jihoon… Please.”

“I’ve got you.” He nudges your temple with the tip of his nose. “But I can’t fuck you unless you give my arm back.”

Begrudgingly, you scoot your head several centimeters across the pillow, heaving a put-upon sigh as if he’s asked you to move a mountain instead. You give yourself a moment to mourn the loss of your headrest, then you open your eyes. As you do, any thought of pouting flies out the window.

Having crawled back to the end of your bed, Jihoon gets to his feet. Once there, he drops his hands and eyes to the loose knot cinching the waistband of his sweatpants. It’s a sight you’ve seen a thousand times — his naked chest so pale in contrast with his usual, all-black attire — yet it’s one you’ll never truly get over. Even harder to cope with is the fact that he’s never been in a hurry; not once in his goddamn life.

If you’re being honest, that’s one of the things you’ve always loved most about him. Envied, even. You fret endlessly about the process, whatever that may be; he trusts it. You scale the walls in anticipation; he’s never been caught sweating.

The best example of this comes the second he finishes addressing that knot. His sweatpants pool at his ankles; he kicks them aside; and you immediately set to wondering how in the motherfuck he managed to be so patient with you when he’s this incomprehensibly hard.

Really, you don’t deserve him.

Nevertheless, you get him anyway. 

Him pushing his flyways out of his face; him reaching out slowly to hook his fingers under the elastic band of your shorts; him cursing under his breath when he tosses those shorts over his shoulder and finds you wet and wanting.

In return, Jihoon gets you right where he wants you — trembling underneath him, with pliant legs opening wider at the request of his hands on your thighs. When his body fills the space between them, those same legs wrap around his back to keep him close, just like the arms you slink around his neck.

“Deep breath,” he reminds you as he lines himself up, only half-jokingly.

It’s good advice — something Jihoon probably should’ve heeded. 

He doesn’t. 

You keep your eyes on his when he slides inside of you, and you swear you see his mind blow in real time. Not that you have room to judge, however. In fact, that’s precisely what’s causing you to short-circuit: the perfect pressure of his length within your heat, sinking in slowly so as to not shock the system.

When he eventually bottoms out, low moan splintering from the depths of his chest, you have to blink quickly to keep tears within your waterline.

To check in, Jihoon runs his hand along the side of your thigh then back again. “Alright?”

Whatever you say in response comes out through a dreamy sigh, framed in quotation marks by fluttering lashes. Nonsense, most likely, or never better. In either case, he’ll understand; he always does.

Placing your hand on his, you slip your fingers over the top and pull him forward. He lets you, comes down carefully until the comfort of his weight against your frame makes you feel anchored. With every inch that’s erased between you, he fills you further, pushing out whatever air remains in your lungs through some needy little whine.

Among the million sensations you have to grapple with, the most hard-hitting, ironically, is comfort. Pure and unadulterated. You enveloping him, enveloping you.

To prove it to yourself that you’re not dreaming, you slip your fingers into his hair, nails scratching delicately over his scalp. In return, he rolls his hips forward, just like he promised — slow, steady, deep. You clench around him involuntarily, a reflex your body must’ve learned to keep him close.

“Love the way you grip me, but...” Jihoon exhales a sigh against your neck, head tilted to keep your face in his periphery. Pulling out further just to thrust in deeper, he warns, “You keep that up, and I’ll cum too soon.”

He’s one to talk.

Every time he grinds his hips languidly towards yours, you have to talk yourself off the ledge. 

If you let him wear you down again, you fear that there won’t be enough left of you to savor this; and you never want this moment to end. You want to live in it — to feel the delicious drag of his cock along your walls — to hear that obscene tide ebb and flow whenever he fucks himself further in you — to feel so fucking full —  for as long as he gives you. 

It was a valiant effort on your part, if you do say so yourself. Futile, though, because Jihoon pulls out all the stops. The next time he pulls himself from you just to roll back in, he swivels his hips as he thrusts, ensuring that you feel him everywhere.

“Oh.”

One syllable on a gasping breath, then you forget every single word in your vocabulary. Like warm molasses, bliss washes over you at half-speed, seeping in and sticking until the blender motor in your brain is fucked beyond repair.

At least you’re not the only one.

“Fuck, fuck —” 

Holding him as closely as you are, you feel each muscle in Jihoon’s body tense one-by-one, rippling as your third orgasm steals his first, going lax when his release floods. “— Fuck,” he groans, all the while twitching inside you.

Though he slows, he doesn’t stop. It’s not until he pants, “Kiss me,” that you realize it: Jihoon doesn’t intend to stop.

Neither, it seems, do you.

Maybe you’re greedy. Maybe you’re too obsessed with the brush of his tip against your cervix with every gentle, shallow thrust. Maybe, above all, it’s the way his cock doesn’t soften inside of you but his face does when he catches you looking at him from under a heavy curtain of lashes.

You catch him by the mouth, just like he asked. It’s indulgent — messy, echoing the other point where the two of you connect. Licking into him while he fucks himself into you, ragged breaths barely loud enough to overpower the explicit, sodden sound below.

“Can you still speak in sentences?” He pants in a rare moment when his lips break from yours.

Can feel you in my stomach, you want to say. 

“I’m — you’re gonna make me —”

You can’t choke out the words, though you suspect Jihoon gets the point. This far in, his touch reaches a detonator you didn’t even know existed; there’s no way he misses the explosion of pleasure throughout your entire goddamn body.

He’s caught in your blast radius, your walls pulsing and spasming to such an insane degree that he can barely move. Mind blown to fucking smithereens, your ears ring too loudly to hear whatever he says to you when he cums again — hard — and the arms bearing his weight buckle.

Jihoon’s flushed cheek winds up pressed to your shoulder. He stays there while your joint trembling subsides, then any muscle that could make him move is too spent to do so.

“What just happened?” He sounds as delirious as you feel. “That was… shit. What did your body just do?”

You have no idea. 

You have no capacity to form any.

All you have is the weight of his frame on yours and that of your eyelids, which flutter as you try and fail to keep them open. The best you can give is a non-responsive, utterly fucked-out sound — not enough shape to be a word, not enough breath to be a sigh.

Eventually, although you can’t imagine how, Jihoon finds enough strength to shift himself off of you. You don’t see anything that happens next, but you feel it all — the kiss to your temple; the hollowness when he pulls out and the sticky rush that chases him when he leaves.

“I’m coming back to clean you up,” he promises in a hushed tone from a million miles away. Chuckling despite his own sleepiness, he adds, “Don’t move.”

I won’t, you think but don’t say.

And you don’t move.

At least, not until the smell of hotteok reaches you eight hours later.

svt taglist: @ashonheavenscloud @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @rasparagus @bouclesdefeu @ourkivee @sourkimchi @gyuguys

multi taglist: @bahng-chrizz @jihopesjoint @notevenheretbh1 @borabitsch @bubbly-moon

also paging the cap gang: @daechwitatamic @yoongukie-ff

[parker-artio]

The idea of Steph being a med student cracks me up. Because this girl stays up all night beating people up, gets maybe two hours of sleep before she’s getting up for her 7am class on human anatomy.

She starts working in Gotham’s City’s ER as a volunteer student so she doesn’t have to take an extra class and can just take the test at the end of the year for the credit. One day she shows up and sees her patient is a thug she bullied last night while kicking his ass.

She might never show her face in his room again.

When she barely passes a test with a C- she wants to cry when Alfred asks how her test went, but Alfred reassures her, saying it’s good, and that she still passed. But Bruce always catches a stray or two when her major gets brought up. No way he wouldn’t.

Alfred: Congratulations Miss Stephanie, it might only be a C but it is still passing!

Steph: Thanks alfred but I feel like I could be doing better

Alfred: At least you’re sure you want to be a doctor. You haven’t dropped out and you’re passing your classes. That’s what matters.

Bruce at Wayne Enterprises in the middle of a board meeting, feeling a chill go down his spine: something just happened…

Plus there’s the added joke of her being called dumb, lazy, ect from Damian (he insults her so much I can’t remember them all rn)

Damian: What’s that Brown? Can’t shake your head in fear your brain will rattle around in there?

Steph thinking about her biology test tomorrow she got maybe 10 minutes of studying in for since it was announced last month: Shut the fuck up.

Thugs would hate to see her. Like genuinely HATE seeing her during finals season. They don’t know anything about these bats, but they all agree if it’s final season and you see a blonde haired bat in purple- you’re fucked. Run as fast as you can unless you want a concussion and her to ask where all your pain is.

None of the super villains in Gotham ever remember mentioning they have any kind of health issues, yet somehow she always knows. The purple bat who goes by too many names, just KNOWS.

Riddler about to pull the lever for something dramatic: Well you failed to answer my riddle so-

Steph cutting him off: Your skeleton

Riddler: wrong it’s-

Steph cutting him off yet again with a heavy sigh: Listen Nigma, you have to calm down for once. Your blood pressure hates you, slow down on the salty and fatty foods. Do you smoke? Because if you do, slow down on that too. Or just quit. And the actual answer is bare-bones. But synonyms of the answer should work too.

Riddler who’s doctor told him he was at risk for high blood pressure but ignored it: I- no… I don’t smoke.

Steph: …

Riddler: I quit years ago!

Plus she’d totally access Alfred’s medical records to learn little things about the others to annoy them with. She’d be elbow deep and learn that Dick’s left ankle was injured at 12 and is prone to injuries because it never proper medical attention because he avoided Alfred when he first got hurt.

She’d bring it up in conversation too.

Steph, after Dick pisses her off and she’s walking away: What your step, Boy Wonder, it’d be a shame if your left ankle got broke because of its fragility…

Dick unsure where she learned that: …what

The whole concept of her as a med student makes me laugh and I wish more people looked at it and thought about the humor and jokes that can go with her being one.

It’s peak comedy to me, I need more fics of her just being a broke college student who’s tired of thugs attacking her when she’s trying to study for her test on patrol. She’s sitting on top of W.E. Reading her anatomy book for her first class at 7:30 while her four other books are underneath. Why she has a test in all of her classes on the same day, she doesn’t know. Will she pass them? Who the fuck knows. But if that bat signal goes off again tonight she might break into the police precinct and give them a piece of her mind.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

the reason that Mario and sonic at the olympics isn’t a thing anymore is in fact bc eggman and bowser were secretly dating but bowser broke up with eggman bc he was a terrible stepfather to bowser jr and is trying to file for custody of metal and sage. eggman refuses to admit he’s ever failed at parenting and is now insisting bowser's the bad parent and his kids are fine bowser jr is just spoiled and in fact it's terrible parenting that bowser jr was never allowed to torture small animals for fun and wasn’t encouraged to protect his father at the cost of his own life and he should get custody of bowser jr instead. it’s a very messy legal battle and also a very messy battle battle thousands are dead mario and sonic decided that the olympics weren’t worth more bloodshed and cancelled the whole thing.

[heartshattering]

5 AM

Just me and my overactive mind facing the nighttime again 🙃

[twicedbyhawks]

.

[nytfythfhtyf]

im so fucking angry i feel crazy beating the shit out of my leg w a gatorade bottle i hope it leaves a big beautiful bruise but it probably FUCKING WONT because my life FUCKING SUCKS and GOD HATES ME

[burningcomputerpersona]

how the fuck are ppl having actual social lives with this amount of courseload. i lose all my hobbies during the semester bc i don't have time for anything besides schoolwork but there are ppl out there hanging out with friends every day and having parties on the weekend. how.

[milo-is-rambling]

Weight talk tw I guess idk how to describe the post sorry im a little high

It’s so weird being around people who talk about weight problems (IOP) and like idk it brings up weird shit in my brain almost anxiety that I should feel bad about myself somehow like I’m doing this wrong being confident idk. Weird self doubt thing that happens when you’ve loved yourself (hmm. Rephrase. I don’t care about being fat. let’s say that.) and then you’re in a room full of people having a group discussion about how they avoid living their life in happy ways because they don’t want to become like you. But you love yourself. But everyone in your life since you were little has been dieting and talking about weight and specific numbers (someone was anxious about gaining seven pounds! SEVEN. If they saw my scale they would shit themselves. I put on seven pounds taking a big bong rip Jesus fucking Christ seven pounds. I wanted to rip my hair out.)

Next time weight issues come up in IOP I’m stepping out of the room. Like idk how to explain it cause it’s like not a trigger but I guess it is ? But it’s just so weird like the way I’m triggered makes me want to cry why does the world hate me for being fat what the fuck !!!!

[getgonebyfionaapple]

.

[umiwomitai]

feeling like doing smth so fucking stupid

[qqweebird]

best oart of adderall is when you go from being fucking dead tired to suddenly feeling your mind clear. like literally a heavy fog lifting from your brain. can actually hold ur eyes open and pay attention

[chlefnikkl]

The brain worms are flowing thru my mind rn, thinking abt toji giving aftercare after one of your roughest nights with him...

"Fuck baby, you okay?" Toji asks, he already knows that you're in pain and everything that has happened tonight will leave you bedridden for the foreseeable future.

When you dont answer him, he leans down to your ear and gives it a butterfly kiss, "its ok if you cant answer right now, just wanna make sure my pretty girl is alright..." he trails off.

"T-toji" you whimper out, your voice hoarse from using it so much.

"Hey mama, how you feeling?" Hes getting worried that he might have gone a bit overboard.

"Water" you whisper to him and hes immediately going to the kitchen to fetch you some. While he's gone, you take in your surroundings and figure out what exactly hurts and what you need to help with the ache.

You feel like your body got hit with a train when you turn to lay on your back. Theres pain blossoming in your neck and chest regin, you figure it must be the hickeys that toji left.

"Hey, got you some water and a couple of painkillers, you probably gonna nee-" he cuts off when he sees your chest, all the marks that he left, all the marks on your neck that he made. Its looks painful, but a sinister side of him loves it.

"Mama, you look really marked up, heh." He chuckles awkwardly, which he didnt know he could do. "You should take a shower with me mama, would make you a lot less sore." He suggests.

"Medssss, hurtsss." You groan out, you just want to sleep. He hands you the cup of water and the painkillers. "Shower tomorrowwww" you whine once you drink and swallow the meds.

"Nuh uh, you are coming with me to the shower, baby, no excuses." He lifts you up and walks towards the shower. Your head laying on his chest as he walks.

Toji finally reaches the bathroom and sets you down on your wobbly legs, "toji, cant standdd" you whine out.

"Just lean on me, mama." He suggests, which you gladly take up his offer. He turns on the warm water in the tub and starts adding the soap. "Listen i know you cant stand so im gonna give you a bath instead, ok mama?"

You nod and see continue to do his thing. You start to space out and think of how you ended up like this.

Maybe if you hadn't of worn that dress when you out, you wouldn't be in this situation. Toji was always jealous, but you didnt know it could be this bad, you'll just have to tell him to take an easy on you next time.

"Alright baths all filled up, just waitin for its princess to hop in." He smirks and you giggle at the way he says it.

"Can you help me toji?" You ask, still unsure if you want to test you legs out.

"Of course baby." He leans down and grabs your waist with both hands and sets you gently down in the water. The warmth immediately cooling your tight muscles.

He starts washing at you chest with a warm cloth. Your eyes close, you love the sweet moments with toji, especially after sex. He gets all mushy and lovey and you just want to bask in the feeling forever.

"Hey mama," you peek your eyes open at him, "you sure i didn't go to rough on you t'night?"

"Im fine, honey, once the bath is done and the meds kick in, I'll be fine." You smile at him

"Just didnt want to hurt my sweet girl, thats all." You kisses your lips softly.

"Im perfectly content right now toji, love the bath that you made for me and the fact that you're here." You say genuinely.

Toji just smiles and kisses your palm.

After a few more minutes of just washing up and brushing teeth, you finally head to bed and get the rest you so desperately desire.

"You all good mama? Ready for bed?" Toji asks as he holds out his arm for you to crawl into.

"Yeah, ready for bed..." you yawn. "Love you toji"

"Love you too mama"

--------------‐

A/n: omg two fics in a day 🤯 you're lucky my college classes havent started yet and i get burnt out immediately 😭😭

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Another hear me out: ii is sick and iii and gf reader (ves and ivy are busy idk dun ask me) head out to get meds and stuff for our poor boy but they get surprised by a huge storm and long story short iii offered her his coat like the gentleman he is and as they return ii sees his precious sweet little gf drenched and in another mans coat 👁️👁️✨

Grumpy sick boy

“Hey, are you busy?”, you had managed to slip out into the kitchen after bickering with ii for the past twenty minutes. His coughs rang through the apartment. “Not really what’s up”, iii voice fills your ears. “Dragged him to the doctors finally”, you sigh, “he has an infection that needs antibiotics”. “Shit”, you can hear him moving around in his apartment. “Yeah and I don’t have a way to get there”, you say quietly feeling so silly even bringing it up. Knowing that you could drive it’s just that stupid fear of doing it that paralyzed you every time. “I’ll be at yours in 15, I’ll get you there”, iii reassures you. “You sure?”, you ask once more just in case. “Yeah, my man is sick, got to make sure you both are okay”, you hear the sound of keys jingle and the weight instantly drops from your shoulders. “You’re the best”, you mutter before hanging up.

A grumpy ii is staring at you both from the sofa where he had been trying to prove that he wasn’t half as sick as he was. “You look like a Victorian child dying”, iii snorted waiting for you to pick up everything that you needed. “Fuck you”, ii grunted coughing into his fist. “You wouldn’t have enough energy for that little guy”, iii snorted, making you shake your head. ii flipped him off. “You try to sleep”, you brush your fingers over ii’s damp forehead, concern written all over your face, “we won’t take long”, squeezing your boyfriend’s hand you quickly stand up. You’re almost out the door when ii’s voice rings through the hallway. “iii”, his tone is serious and iii instantly turns towards him, “You get her home safely man”. He just gives ii a knowing smile, “Precious cargo, trust me I’m aware”.

ii was genuinely a calm man. On paper. If you squint… but once the rain started twenty minutes after you two had left he had dragged himself up from the sofa and towards the window. He trusted you both and iii was the best driver out of all of them but it still didn’t ease his nerves. Not until he saw the familiar car pulling up. Turning towards the door immediately. His stomach dropped slightly at the sound of you both laughing in the hallway. But nothing prepared him for the blow of seeing you two drenched, the white dress you had on clinging to your skin. He could see your underwear from where he was standing. And the jacket. The jacket iii had was now clinging to your skin.

“Jesus you look fucking batshit crazy”, iii chuckled. Making you turn towards the hallway. “ii, you need to be in bed, darling”, you shook your head, kicking your shoes off. But his eyes were burning holes in iii’s face. “we got caught in the rain”, he explained. “I can fucking tell”, ii crossed his arms over his chest. The sight of your rosy cheeks, hair sticking to your face, the fucking dress… it was driving him insane. “We had a bit of a nip situation…”, “If you finish that sentence…”, ii grunted. “Darling, he was being a gentleman, and saved me from flashing the whole street”, you said softly. “Go change please”, he turned to you, pleading eyes looking at you. “And you, never even think about her… anything”, ii pointed a warning finger at iii. “Mate, I adore your girl but trust me all I care about is keeping you both alive”, iii snorted. You moved to take off his jacket but iii quickly stopped you, “Keep it on in case I see that black thong and then…”, “iii”, ii whisper shouted making you chuckle as you shook your head. “Very nice, thong, yn darling”, he blows you a kiss, before moving for the door. “I will stab you with a drumstick you dick”, ii hissed pulling you behind him. “Drive save, silly goose”, you waved iii off, cackling. “Don’t encourage him”, ii whined, “You need to learn to pick your battles”, you tapped his chest, “Off to bed you go”, “hold up are you on his fucking side here?”, ii grunts, sinking into the sofa frowning making you let out yet another laugh as you pulled his medicine onto the counter.

[destinationtrekk]

idkk if someone asked this before but how would wesker react to his partner on their period ?? :3

afab!reader, mentions of sex

I think this depends heavily on which wesker you want.

stars!wesker would be a total gentleman. he would go to the store and buy whatever you needed on the way home from work and set you up comfy in bed or on the couch with your favorite snacks and a warm blanket. if you wanted him to, he would sit with you for a while. he will definitely be cooking you dinner, though. he has to make sure you aren't just going to rot away all weekend until you're free from pain

re5!wesker is...less so... it's not that he doesn't care, he obviously wants you to be okay. he's just got a lot going on and he doesn't have time to hang out and baby you. you sort of live on his terms while he's deep in his evil villain plans, so unless you REALLY need help or comfort, he's just going to check in every once in a while. he would absolutely fuck you on your period, blood be damned, he actually kind of likes it

uroboros!wesker (love of my life) would be the best fucking partner you've ever had. he will do anything and everything you ask, because it's the least he can do for you. it's not like every month he turns into a servant, but some periods are worse than others and he knows you can't help what happens. he'll snuggle you and cook for you, and let you have your pick of his clothes to lounge in all day. he stays next to you in bed with his big warm hands cupped over your cramping stomach and lets you hide in his neck to sleep when your pain meds finally kick in. he will ALSO absolutely fuck you on your period if that'll help you. before he 'died' he thought period sex was just kinky and fun in his demented little head, but now he just wants you to feel good, and if three orgasms in a row are what helps then he's all over you

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Hello beloved maggots of mine. it's past 3 am and the sleep meds have kicked in, but I just want to say that you're all so loved. I know some of you think you aren't. But I love you, and I'm sure that there is so much deep love for you in the world, even if you don't see it yet.

I get a lot of activity, so I may not be able to respond to everything, but please know that you are heard. I read it all, and I'm so grateful.

This post is all over the place, and I choose to blame my near-asleep state for that, but I don't want any of you lovely maggots to feel unloved or unheard or not enough.

I've spent my life feeling unloved and unheard and not enough. You're not going to. Okay? I want you to know how much you mean to the people who have even brushed across your path.

It's so strange when I come across people talking about me in posts, when I see people knowing me, knowing my name and my quirks and the silly things I've done, when I see people care. It's so strange and it's the most beautiful fucking thing ever. I don't give my real name out nearly ever in real life, I just go with my deadname, because I don't want people to taint what you've all given me. Safety, and appreciation, and love. Even something as simple as you all calling me the Mascot or casually referring to me by my name, Asmi, which is my real name, not the hundred others that people call me in real life. Even that. It makes me feel heard and loved.

Oh, I'm so, so fucking sleepy jesus I'm fighting with my eyelids but yes. I thought I should tell you all.

I'm listening. If you ever need to talk, or freak out over our idiot demon and angel or other things you love, or sit in silence for a while by the side of the road with me before you drive along your way, I'm here, and you will not go unheard.

I cannot offer you much, but I can promise you that.

I love you all. Too sleepy to continue. I'll probably make a better post tomorrow about this? I dunno. Eyes shutting. I'm typing very carefully to avoid errors.

Goodnight xxx

Asmi Your Mascot

[ayanominitrash]

Stay Awake For Me (Sukuna x reader)

I first posted this on Ao3 here.

**contains cussing and mentions of taking medication One shot where the reader is a sleepy university student and Ryomen Sukuna is the infamous mean frat boy classmate. An encounter in class resulted in him finding out you're taking meds for anxiety.

₊˚ ♡

University certainly kicks ass, and it certainly is incredibly expensive. You try your best to keep up with the never-ending piles of homework and your hectic part-time night shift job at the nearby fast food chain. The pay was shit but you'd do anything to support yourself instead of relying solely on your siblings' money to help you through school.

Unfortunately, you couldn't keep up with it all with your past school schedule, so you dropped one of your subjects and replaced it with one that's a bit later than usual. This is hilarious on your part because after lunch was usually when your sleep-deprived self has caught up with you and you end up dozing off in that class almost all the time.

Today was no different. Your eyelids feel heavy as you take a seat. It wasn't your usual seat but you couldn't care less as your head falls down in your arms as you take a nap while the class was waiting for the professor.

It wasn't long till you were shoved off of your seat and onto the floor, squealing out in surprise as you rub your aching bottom from the fall.

"The fuck you think you're doing sitting on my chair, brat?"

The metal stands of the chair you once sat on grinds against the floor before the tall man takes a seat, looking down at you with a disgusted look on his face.

It was Ryomen Sukuna. He's a notorious frat boy who everyone feared. This wasn't your first time interacting with him so you weren't surprised by his brash behavior.

The same goes for the other people in the class. They stopped in their conversation when you fell, but seeing that it was Sukuna, they weren't surprised and went back to their own thing.

"S-sorry, I didn't know I was sitting at - "

"Well, now you know. Now, get the fuck out of my space." He says as he waved a hand like he is dismissing you.

You quickly gather the stuff that fell with you, scrambling to stand up. You hear something metallic fall out of your bag, to which you seem to notice Sukuna was going to say something about it when the professor finally shows up. You hurriedly find your usual seat at the back and plop down before the scary man can say anything else.

₊˚ ♡

It was finally the end of class and you managed to stay awake this time. The incident probably helped you stay alert. The class said their goodbyes to the professor and you were quick to gather your things and walk out the door. During the class, Sukuna keeps on looking back at you with a quizzical look on his face. You don't know what this means but you certainly aren't going to hang back after class to find out. For all you know, the man was thinking of different ways to murder you.

It was either he was fast as hell or you were moving too slow because he caught up to you in the middle of the hallway, pulling you by the back of your collar to stop you.

"Brat, stop walking so fast. Geez." Sukuna says as you turn around to look up at him.

"L-look, it was a little mistake. I didn't notice that it was your chair -"

"Shut up." He simply says before his hand reaches something from his pocket. "You dropped this, genius."

One look was all it takes before you immediately grabbed the metallic item from his hand. You quickly looked around to see if anyone saw the thing before sighing in relief.

"That some kind of birth control or something?"

"W-what?! Do I look like someone who has an active sex life for that kind of thing?!" You say, cheeks and ears turning pink at the ludicrous statement that left the tall man's lips.

He simply shrugs. "The fuck is it then?"

"I-it's my... .my prescription meds. F-for my anxiety. Please don't tell anyone."

"Oh," He has the same quizzical look he was giving you in class, but this time, it was more thoughtful. The tall man suddenly smiles widely. "So you're a psycho or something, then? Crazy?"

This was something that may seem normal for anyone, like off-handed teasing but this was a sensitive topic for you and something in you snap. Suddenly, you weren't afraid of the man in front of you anymore. You throw him a stormy look on your face, the best that you can muster that he actually looks a bit surprised. Without saying anything, you turn around to speedwalk out of the hallway, trying to get a good distance away from the prick.

"Woah, woah, there. What's the matter, struck a nerve?" Sukuna quickly caught up beside you. With him being taller than you, it was an easy few strides for him to fall in step beside you despite your efforts. "It was a joke, you silly fuck. Don't get all emotional on me, yeah?"

You didn't look back at him, your brows still furrowed and your eyes glued to the ground. Suddenly, he puts a hand on your head and ruffled your hair, much to your surprise.

"C'mon, let's have lunch together." He says in a soft voice that you were caught off guard a bit. "I'll try to make sure you don't fall asleep on your food."

₊˚ ♡

Ryomen Sukuna, the frat boy feared by everyone, wouldn't stop bothering you after that. He would follow you in between classes, hands in his pocket. Pestering you until you two fall into your usual banter, throwing insults just for shits and giggles. People were raising eyebrows about how Sukuna treated you. He was still being a prick but he's more mellow when it comes to you. Although he was starting to get annoyed at how you're always knocked out whenever he goes out looking for you.

"And here he comes," Your batchmate, Maki, says as your friend group watches Sukuna approach your table outside the schoolyard. This is where you, Maki, and Nobara hang out whenever the three of you have a free period. "And look, he even bought her a drink."

Nobara wiggles her eyebrows, "Wonder if that's the only thing he'll do to keep her up."

"I can hear both of you bitches." Sukuna says as he reaches the table.

He clicks his tongue when his eyes land on you, passed out on the table. There was a slight pool of saliva where your cheek met the table. It was gross but Sukuna secretly finds it adorable, with your hair matting against your forehead with your sweat.

"Now, whatever shall you mean? All we heard was the sound of love birds chirping in the air!" Maki teases, nudging Nobara with her elbow.

"Leave or I'll spill this drink on both of you."

Nobara puts her hands up as if to surrender. "Okay, okay. We'll leave you both to it. Y/n, your boyfriend's here!"

She nudges you lightly in an attempt to wake you to no avail. They leave the both of you as they make their way back to the University entrance.

Sukuna places the can of energy drink near your face as he takes a seat across from you. He looks at your sleeping face for a bit with a soft look in his eyes before shoving you harshly, almost falling off your seat like the last time.

"Stop sleeping, brat. Anymore sleeping and you might start missing me."

You wipe the drool off your cheek and raise an eyebrow at him. " Oh? Isn't it the other way around?"

"Why would I fucking miss you? I practically see your ugly face every day."

"Yeah, cus you keep following me. You even bought me an energy drink just to keep me awake, huh?." You cup the said beverage in hand, grateful that it's still cold.

"Don't feel too fucking special. Someone from my fan club bought that for me. I'll give it to you since I already had one."

"Liar," a smirk playing on your lips.

Opening the lid of the can, you take a sip from it as Sukuna watches you. You don't know when the two of you had gotten so close that you'd end up like this but you don't mind.

"Hey, why are you being so nice to me anyway?" You say as you settle the can back down the table.

Sukuna leans his head in his palm with a bored look. "I'm not being fucking nice to you. Who said?"

"I mean, you're clearly harsher with everyone else. So why am I different?"

"Exactly. Why are you different?"

You hit him with a deadpan and he just grins at you. "There's nothing much to it, brat. I'm just bored and I got nothing else to do."

"Mmhmm."

"And well," He continues, his eyes looking away from you. "My younger brother, Yuji, is on the same meds as you. So in a way, you kind of remind me of him."

"Do you happen to want to kiss your brother, by any chance?"

He scoffs, "Shut up smart mouth. Who says about anyone wanting to kiss you?"

"Just had a hunch, is all." You wiggle your eyebrows at him to which he just scoffs again, not missing the slight twitch of his lips.

Silence falls between the two of you for a while, engulfed in both of your own thoughts. You smiled at him suddenly, to which he lifts his brows in both question and surprise.

"Thank you for being nice to me." You say in a small voice.

He quickly looks away and you note that the tips of his ears turn pink.

"Fuck off, brat. You just think I'm nice to you because you're too busy sleeping to know how I really act."

⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere

//

another mid plot and writing but i wrote this when i first started drinking antidepressants just to cope and to feel comforted

i hated it and stopped drinking it after a while tho ://