#i hate jjk for doing what they do to him and then spinning around and going

[3-aem]

GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE WHAT IS TH I S

CUTIE. BABY. SWEETIE PIE.

[kentopedia]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ HOTEL ROOM — levi ackerman x f!reader x nanami kento

summary. what’s a wedding for if not to make your boyfriends a little jealous?

contents. threesome, wedding guests, best friend satoru, teensy bit of jealousy, nsfw, aot/jjk crossover universe, teasing, cunnilingus, blowjob, piv, sub reader, slight degradation, brat taming, pet names, praise, teasing, unprotected sex — 5.5k

notes. welcome to the most self indulgent and filthy thing i have ever written ! this is for me & the two men i have been in love with for two years but i guess everyone else can read it too <3

“your boyfriend looks pissed,” satoru says, peering over your shoulder. there’s a grin on his face as his bright irises flash, and he hands you a glass of champagne, bubbles rising to the surface. 

you take it from him, spilling a quarter of the alcohol down your throat before craning your neck to glance at the other side of the room. 

behind you, levi is talking to hange in a hushed voice, his expression, though not unchanged from his normal one, is thoroughly unamused. his face is pinched tighter than usual, a harsh set to his jaw. levi’s blue eyes, darkened with irritation, slide over to kento, who rests his hip against the counter, taking a long sip of whiskey. 

though levi isn’t looking at you, kento is, and you smile at him sweetly, taunting him with a little wave. 

you don’t wait to see kento’s response, and focus your attention back on satoru. “which one?” you ask, hiding your sly smile as you follow satoru out to the dance floor. a man takes your near-empty champagne glass, whisking it onto a tray with the other lipstick-stained cups. 

satoru smirks, taking your hand in his own to spin you in a circle, following the steps of the other couples around you. although you and satoru have been friends—and only friends—for years, you know a part of kento can’t help but be jealous, especially since you’d once had a crush on satoru as a teenager.

even though that had long since died, kento doesn’t bother to hide his antagonism for the older man. levi, on the other hand, will never admit to his possessiveness… but he hates seeing you in the arms of anyone that isn't him. 

“so,” satoru hums, shaking his head as you nearly bump into a blonde couple beside you. “i take it you’re trying to be an instigator?”

you make a face. “what do you mean? i’m just dancing with my good friend satoru.”

“right.” satoru laughs, pulling you closer to his chest. something changes in him, for a brief moment, and you can see why everyone wants him. he lays the charm on a little thicker, smiles a little wider—you’re starting to wonder if he actually wants to seduce you. “if you want to make them jealous, at least do it the right way,” he says, putting on his prettiest blue eyes, batting them softly at you. 

“that’s not—” you start, but satoru offers you a knowing grin in return. you’ve been close friends for far too long, and he knows you far too well. any objections you have quickly die out on your tongue, and you sigh, leaning in closer. “fine. whatever.” 

you glance over at levi, and a part of you can’t even feel guilty, not when he’s watching you with icy eyes, wondering if there’s a moment he’d be able to catch satoru off-guard. 

he's a little possessive, a bit hotheaded. can you really be blamed for enjoying the irritation that rolls into kento’s normally calm eyes, the way levi’s jaw clenches tighter and tighter, until you can hear his teeth cracking together?

it’s almost amusing, really. they should know they have nothing to worry about.

“seems i’ve taught you well,” satoru begins, his cologne overwhelming your senses as he bows to your height. “i mean, you can always come back to my hotel room. this is a wedding, after all. the perfect time to spice things up.” 

you roll your eyes at him, snorting. “don’t push your luck, gojo. i’m sure you’ll manage to find someone else to keep your bed warm tonight.” 

satoru sighs, pressing a hand to his heart like you’d fatally wounded him. “hm. i’ll get you to fuck me one of these days.” though, for once, he sounds a little too serious, like he’s actually imaging that playing out. “if you can keep the two of them around, then you must—”

the song comes to an end, and you pull away from your old friend, stopping whatever lewd comment he was about to make. “that’s enough of that, satoru.” you say, ignoring his protests, his faux innocence when he pretends not to know what he said. 

but gojo’s attention is taken up a few seconds later by shoko, and you leave them, heading towards a table with small desserts and drinks. as you pick up a plate, jean kirstein approaches, his eyebrows knit together as he fiddles with the bottom of his shirt. 

you smile at him, but jean doesn’t smile back. “is… something wrong?” you ask, uncertain if he even wanted you to question him.

jean opens his mouths, shuts it, then sniffs. “do you think you could manage to stop pissing off levi?” he finally says, picking up a plate next to you, following your actions as he sifts through the desserts. “he’s going to take it all out on us at training tomorrow.” 

you open your mouth to respond, but you don’t get the chance to let the words spill from your lips. 

behind you, kento says your name, and you turn, facing him with the pile of small desserts still in your hand. jean freezes awkwardly next to you, glancing between the blonde man and yourself. 

“everything okay, ken?”

“i’m just going back to the room,” kento says, putting his hands in his pocket, looking at you pointedly. his dark eyes shift over to jean, before fixating back on you. “just wanted to let you know.”

you smile at him sweetly, nod once. “okay,” you say, offering him a treat from the plate. “want one before you go?” 

kento relaxes, but he shakes his head. “i’m fine." he shifts to his other foot. “so. you’re going to stay here?” 

though kento is too polite to ask you to come with him, especially in front of jean, you can sense his underlying irritation. half of the guests had already gone home, and it was well after midnight... much later than either of you intended to stay out. 

still, you smile, cheeks flushed from all of the alcohol, dancing, and the heat of your boyfriend’s gaze. “yeah, i’ll come up in a bit. i still haven’t danced with jean!” 

kento raises an eyebrow, glancing over at the younger man once more, who stares back at him like a deer in headlights. 

“oh, um—” jean laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as you sigh, taking a bite of one of the desserts. 

kento blinks, but ignores jean’s rambling, and fishes his wallet out of his pocket. “fine,” he says, pulling a white, plastic room key out of it. “let me know if you need anything, sweetheart.” 

you smile widely and kiss him once on the cheek. though the irritation is still evident in his dark irises, your lips ease him a bit, and he lets a small smile lift on his face. as kento leaves, you glance at the other corner of the room, and note that levi is already gone. 

your expression sours; he didn’t even bother to tell you, and there aren’t any messages from him on your phone. 

“why’d you have to drag me into it?” jean mumbles, drawing you out of your thoughts. 

a heavy exhale leaves you—you might as well enjoy the rest of the night, even if you’re not sure how angry levi is going to be when you get back. 

“well, you just seem pretty miserable,” you admit to jean, clearing all thoughts of kento and levi from your mind. that's a problem for the future you to endure. “thought i could at least keep you some company.” 

he smiles, but its half-hearted.

truly, you’re not sure how jean can stand to see the woman he loves get married to another. 

you’re sweaty by the time you retreat to your room, skin hot from the dancing, and feet sore from the heels you’d worn for the entirety of the day. 

not many people were left in the ballroom when you’d left. there were just a few close friends of eren and mikasa’s, and you’d stayed as well, flitting in between each of the couples to chat, feeling more lively with the buzz of alcohol in your veins. 

the hotel hallway is quiet when you approach, and you press the key into the door, waiting for the light to turn green. it lets you into the room, and quietly, you shut it behind you, not wanting to wake levi and kento if they're already asleep. 

though, when the door clicks, you notice that the room isn’t completely dark; there are still lamps on throughout the suite, and you can hear the soft patter of shower water running. the bathroom light is on, and there’s shuffling on the other side of the door. 

you slip your heels off and walk towards the bedroom, ignoring the pain that lingers in the balls of your feet. “levi?” you say, in nothing above a whisper, announcing your presence before opening the door. 

the bedroom is darker, but on the other side of the threshold, you can still make out the shape of the dark-haired man. levi has his back turned, the pale expanse of his skin exposed to you as he slips off his shirt. 

though you know he’s annoyed at you, you can’t stop yourself from staring at the muscles that flex and recoil as levi folds his shirt up. 

he looks over his shoulder, blue eyes flashing as he places his t-shirt shirt back with his other clothes. “so you finally decided to come back,” levi quips, his voice hard and low as he turns, facing you from just a few feet away. “are you done playing your silly little game now?” 

he says it calmly, but you can heart the danger that lies beneath it as his eyes trace over your body, lingering on the swell of your breasts under your form-fitting dress. 

levi’s severe gaze leaves you swallowing nervously, something twisting in your stomach as you watch the harsh set of his jaw. you’re not afraid to push levi’s button’s, but you’ve never gotten used to the passion and adoration that pierces his normally serious irises. 

still, you can tell he’s irritated now, and though he’s usually more serious than even kento, he’s not as good at hiding his anger. 

“what game?” you ask innocently as levi backs you into a corner, his scowl deepening. he smells nice, freshly showered, and his hair is soft as it falls across his forehead. levi’s strong hand comes against the wall beside your head, palm spread next to your ear. “i just wanted to have fun with my friends.” 

levi lets out a laugh, but it’s low, sarcastic, without any sense of real humor. “and you can’t even spare a dance for me?” he says, pinning you with his gaze. your back hits the wall, and you stare at him, lips parting as a small breath leaves you. although you are trying hard not to let your eyes drift down to his chest, you are distracted, heart fluttering in your ribcage. 

“you hate dancing, levi,” you say, a breath of air. 

levi glares, tracing his fingers softly across your jaw. “not with you.” 

though you were trying to taunt him for a moment longer, the admission has you softening, and you lean forward, your lips parting to kiss him. but you don’t get far; levi steps away, leaving you in the corner, desperate for his mouth on your own as he stalks towards the other side of the bed. 

“levi,” you whine, following after him with a deep frown. your hands instinctively reach out for him as he makes his way across the room, shoulders tense when you sensuously run your fingers over his bare spine. “i want—”

the rest of your sentence is lost to air as levi turns, his eyes narrowed harshly before yanking you forward. 

you stumble over your feet, closer to him, and he pushes you onto the bed, his movements much faster and smoother than anticipated. a gasp leaves you as you fall onto the mattress, your back sinking into it with a thump. 

“you spend all evening on the arm of other men, and now you’re trying to tell me what you want,” levi says, pinning your wrists to the bed as he climbs over your. his dark hair falls, nearly into your face as you blink up at him, arousal spiking deep in your stomach. 

levi isn’t as tall as kento, but he’s just as strong, manhandling you easily onto your back so he can tower over you. your face grows warm, and you watch him with wide eyes, shy under the weight of his heavy gaze.

“levi—” you say again, his name leaving your lips with a small whisper. 

“what’s the matter?” he slowly drags his lips across your chest as you squirm. “earlier, you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. flirting with every man at eren’s fucking wedding. and now—” 

levi drags his hands down to your hips slowly, pressing you into the bed as his fingers curl into the bone. your eyes flutter shut, the feeling of his graceful fingers on your stomach close to tantalizing, so slender, but so rough. 

“they’re my friends,” you breathe, licking your lips. “i wasn’t flirting, i was just talking.” 

really, that tiny detail doesn’t matter anymore. you just want levi’s mouth on your own. 

“didn’t look like it to me,” he says pointedly, unamused. “you were practically begging everyone in that room to fuck you.” levi’s hand tightens around your hips, not allowing you any space to move. “a pathetic attempt at trying to make us jealous.” 

you stare up at him from under your lashes, a lazy smile pulling onto your lips. “from where i’m standing, i’d say it worked pretty well.” 

levi’s jaw clenches tighter, but he doesn’t get the opportunity to respond. the door opens once more, and kento comes in, wearing nothing but a towel, his hair still damp, falling onto his head in loose strands. 

you take one look at him, the drops of water that run over the planes of his chest, and salivate. his skin is still tan from your vacation, blond hair light from the sun. he’s beautiful, so beautiful—but a frown pollutes his face as he enters the room. 

he takes a look between you, eyes narrowing at levi. “i said to wait until i got out of the shower.” 

“i’m impatient,” levi retorts in a gruff voice, sitting up slightly, even as he keeps you pinned on the bed with his thighs. 

“that’s obvious.” kento snorts, sliding his gaze over to you. “already starting without me.” he’s upon you quickly, two slow strides to the bed as he carefully observes the atmosphere. a sigh leaves him, and he brushes a heavy hand over your forehead, soothingly. “what are we going to do with you, sweetheart?” 

you swallow, eyes wide as you stare back at him.

kento drops the towel from his waist, exposing his thick, muscular thighs and his cock, resting limply between them. with levi’s hands all over your body, you’re already getting wet.

“i didn’t do anything—” you begin, but as you try to squeeze your legs together, levi stops you, knowing exactly the kind of relief you are searching for.

“nope,” he snaps, prying your thighs back apart, his eyes narrowing. “if you’re going to act like a fucking brat, then we’ll just have to treat you like one, hmm?” levi tugs you forward harshly, bringing your knees around his waist. “don’t try to act coy.” 

his fingertips dig into your thighs, and you sit up on your forearms, glancing back at kento, trying your best to bat your pretty eyes in the way you know he likes. “but i didn’t mean, it, ken,” you say as levi hikes your dress up, revealing the smooth skin of your thighs. “i’m sorry—”

kento shakes his head, and slips behind you, climbing onto the bed, forcing you sit up completely. “a little too late for that,” he says, resting your back against his chest. he kisses your shoulder softly, much more gentle than the way that levi is grabbing at your skin. kento’s large palms rest on your stomach, and you reach for them, squeeze at his hands as he smiles against your neck. “you’re supposed to be a good girl for us, aren’t you?” 

his voice is husky, tired, and you nod, seeking a kiss from the blonde man that you love so dearly. but even kento, who is always so much sweeter with you than levi, refuses that. 

“clearly, she needs to be taught a lesson,” levi snorts, dragging a finger up your panties, humming when finds your arousal already gathered there. “can’t have you forgetting who you belong too, can we?” he asks, blue eyes sharp as he pushes your panties to the side. 

you squirm when his finger parts your folds, grazing your clit as he gathers the slick around it. a spark ignites in your chest, and then, levi slips a finger into you, slowly, tauntingly. you lean back into kento, who holds you still, interlocking one of your hands with his own. 

“can’t be happy with just the two of us, can you?” kento asks, kissing the underside of you jaw. your head tips back, eyes fluttering shut as levi adds a second finger, your walls stretched as he draws in and out of you. “would you rather have satoru? maybe you’d trade both of us for just one of him—”

“n-no,” you say, reveling in the feeling of kento’s lips on your neck, levi’s delicate fingers deep inside you. “i promise, i don’t want him—”

you squelch around levi, the sounds of your cunt growing louder in the dim room, and he tugs at your knees, spreading your legs wider. your pussy is on full display to him, lacy black panties doing little to hide the fact that you're dripping. 

“didn’t seem that way to us." levi's voice is deep and rough as he glares at you. “seemed like you wanted everyone to think we can’t take of our girl.” 

sinful noises leave you as his hand moves faster, drags against your soaked walls, clit untouched and desperate for attention.

“levi,” you gasp, swallowing down your pride. “please—”

“not letting you off the hook that easily, sweetheart,” kento says, pushing the loose straps of your wine colored dress down, letting it fall. it slips easily off your breasts, revealing the lacy, black strapless bra that matches your panties.

though, that doesn’t remain for much longer; kento groans deeply in your ear, your breasts bouncing softly as he tugs the undergarment off. 

“such pretty tits,” kento says, a large, warm palm coming to cup one of them. his finger grazes across your nipple, squeezing once, and you throw your head back against his shoulder, whimpering as levi forces his another finger down to the knuckle. “fuck, the sounds you make—”

“you’re too fucking nice to her, kento.” levi is on the verge of rolling his eyes as he lowers his head to your thighs. for a moment, you think he might kiss your leg, reveal the love that he is hiding from you—but he thinks better of it and forces your legs further apart. his tongue drags against your pussy, gathering your slick before he sucks at your clit.

you moan, grabbing at kento’s thighs that are woven around your hips, digging your nails into his flexed muscles. tiny crescent marks are left there, but kento barely notices, too busy biting a bruise into your neck as he plays with your tits. 

“i don’t have to be an ass like you to teach her a lesson,” kento breathes against your neck, and you shudder, eyes fluttering closed, unable to do anything but writhe under their strong holds. “besides, she’s so perfect—”

you can’t focus on the rest of kento’s words, not when levi’s tongue is flicking in and out of you, lapping up the juices that are spilling out of your cunt. your stomach vibrates with need, and you can feel yourself close to release, exhales leaving your chest as you attempt to shift yourself forward. 

“don’t even try it,” levi glares at you, his gaze even more menacing under the mound of dark hair, lips glistening from your cunt. 

“wanna cum levi,” you cry out, not sure how much longer you’ll last with kento pinching at you, squeezing your tits with his warm palms. “please, i’m so close—”

“who said you were going to cum, brat?” levi snaps, stilling his movements for a moment as you whine, missing the feeling of his fingers deep inside you, his lips sucking at your clit. you clench around nothing, throbbing as he stares down at you empty pussy. “don’t think you deserve that.”

“just let her cum so i can fuck her, levi,” kento says, a shiver radiating through your entire body as he traces his hands down your stomach, rubbing at your clit. his fingers are thicker than levi’s, his hands bigger, and you know it won't be long before you reach your orgasm. 

“kento.” you whine, turning your cheek to face him, reveling in the small little smile that rests on his lips. “so close—”

though, your moment of relief is taken from you as levi swats kento’s hand away, going down on you again, twice as fast. “hey,” levi grabs your attention once more, slipping his fingers back inside your cunt. “eyes on me. i’m the one with my fingers in your pussy.” 

you gasp, writhing as kento kisses you, runs his hands all over your skin. “feels s’ good, levi." though you are vibrating between them, you obey, keeping your eyes focused on levi’s, too intimidated by the heat of his gaze. 

“promise to behave now, angel?” kento says, humming into your neck, a hand caressing your stomach lovingly. “you’re our sweet girl, right?” 

your mind short circuits as levi puts his mouth on you once more, and you cum, your body shaking from your orgasm, clenching tight around levi’s fingers. “levi, levi.” his name leaves your lips over and over, mumbled bliss as he works you through it, your sensitive cunt aching. 

you feel mushy, shaky as kento shifts behind you, places his hand on your hips. there is no time for you to recover, to indulge in the blissfulness that comes with release. kento pushes your hips forward, encouraging you to move.

“get on all fours for me,” he says, and though his voice is soft, sweet, there is still a sense of a command there. 

you comply, but your mind is hazy from your orgasm, still focused on the feeling of kento behind you, levi in front of you. they both eye you with a culmination of lust and love, and you feel sick with it, shifting for kento so that your dripping cunt is on perfect display for him. 

kento hums, sitting up along with you, so that his cock is positioned near your entrance. without warning, he dips a finger into your walls, smiling when you softly whine, sensitive already. kento gathers up your slick, rubbing you only for a moment before retreating, withdrawing his soaked fingers. “you get so wet for us, sweetheart. such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” kento teases, running his tongue over his fingers as you watch over your shoulder. 

you wonder if maybe you could cum again, on the spot, just from that; the sight of kento licking your arousal from his hands as you clench around nothing. “kento, need your cock,” you blabber, barely holding yourself upright—you feel weak, arms and legs like jelly. 

kento lets out a laugh, his tip teasing your entrance. without thinking, you sink your hips back, try to push him inside of you, but he stops you, stilling your movements. “thought you said you’d be good now?” he asks, kissing your spine gently. 

“i promise, kento, please, please,” you say, desperate for him to touch you. but kento doesn’t move, waits until levi has slipped his sweatpants off, thrown them over the edge of the bed. 

“sound so pretty when you beg.” kento’s voice is soft, loving, gentle as he kneads the skin of you ass. 

levi, though, doesn’t let the attention stay on the other man for much longer. he strokes his cock, but he is already painfully hard, leaking at the tip as he glowers over you. “she sounds impatient,” he counters, his voice deep, rough, and authoritative. you meet his eyes from under thick lashes, mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock just inches from your face. “maybe she’ll stop running her mouth with my dick in it.” levi runs his finger over your lips, parting them with his thumb. as if on instinct, you let your jaw fall open, your cunt aching and soaked, too desperate for release to care about how debauched you look.

“wanna taste you, levi,” you say, whimpering as kento edges his tip into your dripping hole. your hands shake on the bed, and you blink rapidly as your sensitive pussy throbs and aches, pulsing around your blonde lover. 

“tch, ‘course you do. you’re so fucking hungry for my cock.” levi seems annoyed, but he still runs a delicate hand through your hair before he pushes against your lips. 

at the same time, kento sinks into you, a deep groan leaving him. “fuck, sweetheart, just slipped right into you. pretty pussy was made for my cock, wasn’t it?” 

you moan as you taste the saltiness of the precum leaking from levi, taking as much of him as you can into your mouth. he’s not as thick as kento, but he’s just as long, pretty and veiny as you run your tongue along the length of him. 

kento leans over your back, his strong hands curling around your sides as he drags himself in and out of you, fingers digging into your hips. your eyes flutter shut from the stretch, and you moan around levi’s mouth, distracted by his hands, rough in your hair. 

for a moment, you pause, breathing as you clench around kento, but levi doesn’t give you enough time to think; he drags your mouth back down his cock, his pretty fingers tight against your scalp. “levi—” you start, but his names falls on a loose breath as you gasp, your cheeks hot when you smoothly catch the dark look in his irises. 

“don’t cum until we tell you to, brat,” levi says, scowling, though there is a breathlessness starting in his words, a hint of affection as you bob your head up and down his length. as mean as levi tries to be sometimes, he can't seem to get rid of the love that seeps into his voice when he’s inside you.

you nod an affirmation as best you can before sinking back down on him, breathing heavier through your nose. 

kento pushes into your fluttering walls deeper, faster, his cock stretching you more than levi’s fingers had before. “look so pretty like this, angel. always take us both so well,” kento says, squeezing the soft skin of your sides gently as he forces himself further, until he’s inside of you completely, the burn deliciously painful. 

you try to whimper, feeling your own juices trickle, smear between the inside of your thighs, but your mouth is too full of levi for any sounds to come out. 

“focus on what you’re doing." levi's attempt at snapping fizzles out. his tone has lost its bite. his eyes are getting hazier, eyelids fluttering with each drag of your tongue, your mouth so much smaller around his cock. “not letting you cum until i do.” 

you balance on one hand, the other reaching up to fondle levi’s balls as you drag your tongue slowly along the vein on the underside of his cock. levi inhales deeply, digging his fingers into your hair, his nails scratching against your scalp. his cheeks, the bridge of his nose are dusted pink, eyes a deep navy. 

you bat your dazed eyes at him. levi is so beautiful, and you’re so deeply in love with him, desperate to see the flush of his face, the way his lips part in ecstasy when he finally reaches his orgasm. 

a hand drifts across your stomach as kento hum, his chest vibrating. “being such a good girl for us,” he whispers, and though you can’t see him, you know he is smiling, his eyes always so gentle, even when you spent the entire night trying to rile him up. 

you can feel yourself getting closer, kento hitting the spot deep within you, levi’s taste so intoxicating that you’re blind to your surroundings. 

“just like that, my love." drunk on the feeling of your mouth, levi's dark eyes finally soften as you run your tongue along his tip. “aren’t you pretty?” his thumb traces your cheek softly, and the normal affection is back on his face. it fuels you to drag your mouth up his length faster.

levi's praise is much more fleeting then kento’s, but it’s genuine, always coming when he’s desperately close to finishing. a moan, deep and muffled, reverberates in his chest as he thrusts his hips forward, fucking your face.  

“she’s close,” kento groans, reaching around your stomach to dip his finger between your thighs. “i can feel it. she's squeezing me so fucking tight.” 

“mouth feels so good," levi rasps, his breathing uneven, chest rising erratically. “fuck, fuck, you’re gonna make me cum” he lets a string of curses leave him, his lips parting beautifully, flushed and red. “better swallow every last fucking drop."

“don’t think that’ll be an issue,” kento hums, and his fingertips graze your clit, causing you to gush around him. “she always wants our cum so bad.” teasingly, he leans down to whisper, more to you than levi. “i don’t think i even have to ask if she wants me to cum inside.” 

“shit,” levi breaths, sputters, and then he spills into your mouth, warm ropes of cum shooting into your throat. 

you swallow as much as you can, trying not to gag as it dribbles out of the corner of your mouth, milking levi through his orgasm. but you’re too focused on the feeling of kento, and your eyes flutter shut as you force your hips back, your brain glossed over, nothing but need there.

that moment is short-lived.

levi pinches your cheeks, forces you to open your eyes and look at him. though his fingers dig into your skin, right below the bone, his eyes are soft as he leans down. 

“cum." the word is whispered against your mouth, the sharp tone he uses as a captain. then, levi kisses you, licks across your lips to taste himself there.

you whimper into his mouth, falling forward into him as you clench hard around kento, the knot inside of you releasing. your orgasm hits you hard, blurs the room around you, narrowed down to nothing but the man in front of you and the one behind. 

“mm,” kento hums, but his voice is low, raspy. “god, made such a mess all over me, fuck, love you so much, sweetheart—” 

kento lasts only a few moments more, spilling into your cunt, his cum filling you up, coating your walls white. 

you breathe heavily, whining into levi's neck as he holds you, lets kento pump the last bit of cum from his cock, heavy pants escaping his chest.

“look at you,” levi says, tracing his fingers over your face, smoothing the hair away from your sweaty forehead. "so fucking pretty all filled up with our cum."

kento, slowly, drags himself out of you, makes another sound, already missing the feeling of your pussy clenching around him. you feel empty, blinking as levi gathers your up in his arms, kisses your forehead.

"mmm." levi hums, because, really, he can't help the fact that you soften him up, make him a little bit sick with affection. "i love you."

you smile. "love you both," you say, closing your eyes as kento smatters kisses across your back, levi's touch gentle as he caresses your sides. "'m sorry."

kento laughs, brushing your hair off to one shoulder, kissing between your shoulder blades. "no you're not." he nuzzles your back, resting his cheek against your spine. two strong arms wrap around your waist.

"we're not idiots," levi continues, a snort leaving him. "i'm sure you spent the whole evening plotting with satoru. nice try though."

you smile, dopey and blissful. "well, it worked, didn't it? i did make you jealous."

neither of them respond.

anyway.

tehehe thank you for reading !! reblogs appreciated !

[jjkilll]

-————---✫ ROS | JJK ✫---—————-

— pairing | CEO jk x Y/n

— summary | Jungkook is obsessed with you in every way possible and would take the moon and the stars out of the sky and gift them to you if he could.

— warning | smut, fluff, mentions of rough sex, hair pulling, jk proposes to y/n, unprotected sex (please use condoms i'm begging), creampie, oral (m receiving), idk some cute shit I was thinking of.

— word count | 1.8K

— song | ROS - Mac Miller

Jungkook met you when you came in to interview as his secretary. Ever since then, he's craved you. He knew he had to have you. So, he asked you on dates, which at first you declined. You tried the workplace romance thing and dating your boss didn't seem like the smartest idea. But after he asked the fifth time, you figured why not? Hot rich boss buying you food? Deal. He charmed you, he was funny and smart. He talked so dearly of his mother and he really made you fall for him. What you didn't know is that he fell harder. Your smile that night is burned into his brain. Your giggle made it easier to breathe. You smelled of flowers and fresh air, your voice was soft like honey and you were the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on.

After a few months of dating, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You of course said yes. He made it his top priority to find out everything you've ever loved or hated. He watched and listened being the most caring boyfriend in the world. Anything you wanted he'd find a way to get it. Anything you'd touch in the store he'd take a picture of and surprise you with something special every other night. He made you feel like a princess. "My love" he'd call you. He was always so gentle with you.

Except when he was fucking you. He didn't have an aggressive personality, but he loved fucking you until you couldn't take it. Jungkook was hands down the best dick you ever had. He had a huge dick and knew how to use it. He'd never seriously hurt or make you do something you couldn't handle. You and your safety were always his top priority. After a rough round, he'd kiss your face and ask "Was I too rough my love, I'm sorry if I was, I will be more gentle." He had never hurt you and you loved it when he fucked you like you were a little ragdoll, but you loved that he always considered you. Jungkook never came first. NEVER. You were always the first to come, and he made sure of it. You were sure if Jungkook looked at you and told you to come you could. He knew you just that well.

Jungkook was never the type to get nervous around you. You always made him feel comfortable enough to be himself. So why was he shaking right now? Oh, he was gripping a small ring box in his hand and was praying you'd say yes to marrying him. He didn't really think you'd say no, but maybe you saw someone hotter than him yesterday and wanted to leave him. You didn't and you don't, but what if you did? He stood behind you with his hand in his pants pocket gripping that box like it was your ass while you rode him.

You were in the Louvre, one of your favorite places to be in the world. He rented it out, which cost a shit ton of money but no amount of money would be worth your reaction, well at least he hoped.

Your back faced him are you admired the piece you loved so much. Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss, reminded you of you and Jungkook. Your love always felt fresh and new, it felt soft and sweet, and it was something you knew you wanted to feel forever. So when you turned to face him and he knelt before you with a ring in his shaking hands you felt like the world stopped spinning and you two were the only people on earth.

"Please..." He started. Suddenly the long speech he had talked himself through slipped his mind. All he knew was that the girl he wanted forever stood before him and he wanted more than anything for you to say yes.

"I knew the moment I met you that I wanted to marry you. I never shut up about you. I could write so many books about you and our love because our story is one that is so beautiful that it has to be shared. I'd rather die than not be with you because loving you is like breathing air. I need you and more than anything, I want you Y/n. Will you marry me?" He said everything his heart felt, it was like his heart spoke for him.

You dropped to your knees in front of him. Your eyes brimmed with tears and you began to sob. He was quick to grab and hold you as you cried. "Are you okay my love?" All you could do was nod. You look at him and he smiled, he couldn't help it. "What did I do in my past life to deserve someone like you?" you sniffled and all he could do was pout, "If I could take the moon and all the stars in the sky and give it to you, I would," Jungkook responded. You kissed him softly but deeply. "I would marry you a million times over." You say kissing him again. He felt like his heart was doing jumping jacks. You said yes, those three letters sounded like the sweetest coming from your lips. He pecked your lips one last time before showing you the ring. Holy shit it was beautiful, you couldn't even imagine what it could be worth. He slipped in on your finger and you held your hand up to watch it sparkle. "Pretty right? It's custom. I had some jewelers in France make it for me, well for you." He smiled watching you.

"I'm going to give you the best head of your life," you say so suddenly. Jungkook laughs at your statement his eyes never leaving you. He stood and reached for your hand to help you up. You took his hand and stood. You kissed him again. "Thank you Jungkook," you said. "Anything for you my love." He spoke softly.

"Anything?" You look up at him. He nods surely. "Absolutely anything." You smiled. "Okay, then can we go home?" You ask. "Are you sure you don't want to look more? It's just us here." You looked at him with your fuck me eyes. "No, because what I really want to do is have you fuck me until I can't stand." You whisper lowly to him. He stiffened, "Let's go," He said simply grabbing your hand and nearly started running out with you.

It was something about the sex you and Jungkook have. It was like you were made for each other. So when his girl wanted to fuck, he was going to dick you down like he had to start a journey of celibacy the next day. Whatever you say goes.

✫ -----------------------✫

You arrived at the vacation home Jungkook surprised you with a month prior. Sloppily you shuffle through the door shedding each other of your clothes. Making out passionately you back him up the wall in your foyer. His eyes are dark and hungry. He needed you so desperately. You suck his neck while your hands undo his pants. His hand grabs at your waist. You stroke him over his clothed cock. He groans kissing your lips again. You break the kiss, "Let me suck your cock, please." You say it almost begging him. He nods quickly and surely. You grab his hand and drag him onto the couch.

He sits and you kneel before him. He watched your every move. You shuffle his pants and boxers down to his ankles, watching his cock spring free. You bite your bottom lip which turns him on to no extent. You pump him a few times before making eye contact with him and you put him in your mouth. His breath hitches and he groans as you bob your head your hand resting on his pelvis he glances at the ring and then back to your eyes. You're driving him crazy you take your mouth off him, still looking at him you collect the spit in your mouth and let it slowly drip on the tip of his cock. You are the hottest sight he's ever seen. You stroke him again before taking all of him in your mouth. "Fuck baby, just like that." He tosses his head back uncontrollably. He quickly sits his head up and he can feel the tip of his cock touch the back of your throat, he grabs a handful of your hair pulling it gently. You moan on his cock and it sends him into a spiral. "Fuck stop I'm going to come." He says breathily. "Come in my mouth," you say simply.

"My love you know you always come first," he moans struggling through his words as you stroke him. "This one time? Please? I thought you'd give me anything I want." You pout. He smirks at your cheekiness, using his own words against him. He nods for you to continue. You smile putting him back into your mouth. You suck him a little more and you hear his breath quicken. "Fuck I'm coming baby, fuck fuck" He moans before he empties his load into your mouth. You keep your lips wrapped around his tip making sure you get every last drop. You open your mouth to show him his mess. You look him in the eyes as you swallow.

"God, you are so fucking hot," he says with a chuckle. "Take your panties off and get up here." He demands. You stand take off your panties discard them and straddle him. He strokes your pussy with his index and middle fingers. "Sucking me off got you this wet, Jesus?" You smile kissing him once. He lined up his cock with your entrance and slowly you sat on his cock. You moaned as he stretched you out. You never really got used to his cock, he was so thick and long it drove you crazy every time. He grabbed your ass, slapping your left cheek before gripping it once more. "Shit, baby." You moan. "Fuck me, baby," You say softly. He grabs the underside of your ass and helps you bounce on his cock. He is losing his mind in you. He slides down a bit so he could fuck you a little deeper. Good call on his part because as soon as he starts fucking into you he hits that spot that drives to you nuts. You moan as he fucks into at the same pace, "Fuck there, Kook, right there!" you scream out. "God, I'm coming." You shake as you come undone on him and he empties himself into you.

"Thank you...Thank you." you shutter coming down from your high. He smiles when he looks up at you. He kisses your nose lightly. "You okay my love? I wasn't too rough right?" you nod. "You were perfect baby" you say looking at him lovingly.

"My pretty fiancée coming on my cock, You're so perfect." you blush. "Come on baby, Let's get you cleaned up." He said sweetly. He got his dream girl and couldn't be happier. “I was thinking round 2 in the shower?” You suggest. “If you can handle it.” he teases. Him and his pretty fiancée had the brightest of futures ahead.

✫ -----------------------✫

a/n: just a lil something something hehe. thanks for reading if you made it this far. feed and request are appreciated!! mwah!!

[hoseoksluna]

VAPOR, pt II. | jjk ft. myg

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x steam!oc 

genre: smut, a great dose of angst

word count: 11.9k

summary: hard times ask for extra care and like the healer he is, jungkook doesn't fail to give you his absolute best.

pinterest board: vapor | playlist: vapor

warnings: heartbreak, lots of tears, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), praise kink, sucking fingers, female masturbation, fingering, oc is extremely wet and jk is rly rly hard for her <3, squirting, multiple orgasms, jk tells her off kinda and it's hot, pet names, raw and rough sex, the abandonment issues are heavy in one part, mention of a sex toy

note: hi, my loves. this was absolutely painful to write, but i know i made a good decision. unfortunately for those who are waiting for the next series—i'm sorry, but this will have another part. it's already so long and if i kept going, it'd have probably like 20k plus words and i don't want to take up your time. i think i can manage to post the last part THIS week, so look forward to this. one part of the happy ending done. <3 i love you, guys, i hope you like this. don't hesitate to let me know; i worked hard and i want validation skfjslkfjsklfs. enjoy, my loves. <3

A dead man for the fifth time, Jungkook finds the unfolding of the events quite ridiculous now. And he’s not surprised, how could he really be at this point, that there’s radio silence within the chambers of his heart. 

The food court is muted, the lights are ever still bright, but the corners of his eyes gain peculiar shadows that cling to the side of your face as you swirl your spoon in your hot soup. His phone is ringing and its obnoxious sound is but a vibration in his hand and the only thing that’s delaying him from sliding his thumb across his device is some sort of consent in your solemn, yet saddened features. He can see translucent threads lining your rounded lips that have sown your mouth shut, preventing you from speaking out your tender heart and it’s predominantly this thing, among the obvious other ones, that drives him to make a scene in front of all of these people crowded around him. 

If he has to, he will rip those wisps. Make it as painless as possible because whether he likes it or not, he needs you right now. Needs your word of advice, needs your consent in order to do what the entirety of his organs yearns to do. And if you say no, he’ll willingly turn his phone off and refuse to speak to his once-closest friend. 

Just for the sake of your mental health. Just to outrun fate and grasp her wrist to stop her from furthermore scarring your heart. 

You have enough of them and he has only one pair of lips to heal them. 

Lifting the spoon to your mouth, you keep your gaze on its silver coat and it unnerves him—the fact you won’t look at him, the fact that you so evidently don’t want to be in this situation. Your own boyfriend is chasing you around town, even though he transmitted waves of nothingness your way when he had you under his roof. He doesn’t fucking understand it. Doesn’t understand how he’s capable of doing such a thing and fury rises in his gut, soars high to his throat, which constricts around it so tightly that it forbids him from inhaling any oxygen into his lungs. And he fears that if he speaks, it’ll soak you. Make you even smaller than you are and he’ll hate himself for the rest of his life for it. 

However… 

He needs to talk to you. Time is pressing down on his shoulders once again and here and now, he’s too burdened, too fragile to bear it. His stoicism has long been fractured, its shards cracking cacophonously under the soles of his sneakers and… the singular tear rooting on his pale cheek hasn’t even dried up. 

“Tell me what to do, sweetheart,” Jungkook says, his voice a soft, deep murmur; a plea. His surroundings gain volume, little by little, the lack of air in his lungs causing his mind to spin. His body grows cold and, unwittingly, he bounces his leg underneath the table. “If you don’t want me to pick up this call, I won’t. It’s your decision.” 

He knows that whatever it is that will come out of your mouth and change the trajectory of his fury, he’ll protect you nonetheless. No matter what, no matter what it takes. He’ll unleash what’s been swarming in him for a long time in private sometime later if you ask for it—he’ll gladly tell his organs no and they’ll have to listen. That’s certainly not an issue. 

What will be an issue is if you remain quiet. He doesn’t know what will happen to him under that circumstance. He has very little trust in something that’s out of his grasp and he has  strong disliking for the looseness of it all. Doesn’t feel right. 

A quick, soft slurp of your soup. A lift of your weary eyes. A kick in his heart. “I don’t want to make any decision. If you want to pick up the call, you should. I don’t mind. If you don’t, that’s fine, too.” 

He must be dead because he’s staring at his own reincarnation. 

You’ve walked so far on your pathway of suffering that you reached the point that you don’t care anymore. Don’t care that there’s a risk Yoongi will see you or hear you. Don’t care about what’s going to happen when he does and about the events after. It’s as admirable as it is disturbing and a faint pulse begins to sound in his chest. Thrill nips at his skin; a sense of responsibility uncoiling within, linking to the surety of his instinct to protect you. To stand up for you. To make things right in a way, way different manner than he’s ever tried before and it’s those inclinations that drive his thumb to swipe across the screen. 

Though he doesn’t look at Yoongi. No, he looks at you, studying your features. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your words, he does and vehemently so, but this is a difficult situation that you’re both in and it would be only understandable if the gravity of it washed over you all of a sudden and you weren’t comfortable with this anymore. He wouldn’t hesitate to end the call right away. Fuck what Yoongi thinks. 

But nothing changes about your weariness. It’s a still pool of water, unmoving and utterly impenetrable, like the pond behind his cabin during cold, winter times. When this is over, he promises to get warm and dip his fingers in, permeate your skin with rosiness and coziness. Stall the change of seasons unfurling in you. 

And Jungkook pleats that promise into the palm of your hand as he takes it, his thumb against your head line. Watches you stuff your mouth full with noodles. His own stomach churns, the fury half parting, making a way for his hunger to suffuse his senses. He’s so happy you’re eating that all he can think about is how he’s going to make your life better with this one singular video call. 

He leaves you to it and focuses his gaze down on Yoongi. His once-close friend is driving in his car and despite the shit view he has of him, due to his service and the way Yoongi’s phone is angled, he can still see the way he’s swathed by murkiness. The purple marks under his eyes are a stark contrast to the pallidness of his skin and his hair is a mess, tufts of black strands sticking in different directions as if he had been on the verge of ripping his hair out. He has one hand on the steering wheel, while the other runs over his upper lip. Over and over, back and forth, waiting, patiently, for Jungkook’s attention. 

He starts speaking once he knows he has it. 

“Sorry to bother you, I didn’t know who else to call.” He sighs and explains that he’s calling because of you, the mention of your name causing his voice to crack. “I drove up to her apartment, but she’s not there. She told me she was going to her place when she… when she… left.” 

So he heard you loud and clear, and yet he didn’t have the decency to respond to you, make you know that you were heard. Jungkook looks at you and this time you look back at him, too. A tight, painful exchange of glances. He squeezes your hand, even as Yoongi continues. 

“She’s not picking up the phone. I’m worried about her—”

Jungkook is swift with his words. “You should’ve thought of that before you let her leave,” he snaps, his whole body tense, hanging yet again by the thread. He keeps his hold over your hand gentle, despite it all—despite the fact that his form yearns to explode. “You’re too reckless. Leave her alone.” 

Your eyes widen while Yoongi’s narrow, but he doesn’t regret what he said. He knows there’s utmost truth in them, something that should scramble his brain until he comprehends it. Yoongi’s mouth purses in a tight line and his fist clenches before he places it on the steering wheel with a thud. 

“Don’t talk to me like this. I don’t need this,” Yoongi mutters, pulling out his hyung card and while it angers Jungkook even more, he also thinks that’s the biggest load of bullshit that has ever come out of his mouth. “I need to know where she is.” 

He gazes intently at you as he says, “It’s none of your business.” 

And those big eyes of yours round in a good emotion that he can’t really recognize and slowly, you swallow down your noodles. Speechless, he deduces. A tendril of adrenaline courses in him, strengthening his responsibility and protectiveness over you, kissing it ever so sweetly when you squeeze his hand. 

A validation. 

Jungkook could stay like this. He wouldn’t mind at all—it feels too nice. Feels like you’re his. And perhaps at this very moment you are. 

The feeling is so overwhelming that he doesn’t give two shits about the fact Yoongi is detonating on the other side of the screen. He keeps his eyes on you. 

“What the fuck do you mean it’s none of my business? Is she with you?” 

It’s at this moment that a proud smile curls Jungkook’s lips. And it’s joy that absorbs his organs, his heart beating loudly and clearly. Even the people around him seem happier in his peripheral vision. He thinks this night tops in the best days he’s ever had. 

Tension has grabbed a hold of you, too. But he will make it better. He’s got you. 

He continues with the truth and he’s not afraid of it. Not at all. 

“Yes, she’s safe with me.” 

Those words, most peculiarly, soothe Yoongi’s rage. Silence fills his car, one that forces Jungkook to flick his eyes to his phone because he truly can’t believe what’s happening. Yoongi runs his hand down his face and nods once, the murkiness loosening a fair bit before it pulps him. It’s now that he becomes small. A tiny boy, at the hands of his own repercussions. Displeased, but relieved. A strange, strange sight.

“Good,” Yoongi says and Jungkook’s stomach drops. “She should be with you. You’re better than me in ways I could never be. She doesn’t need me anymore.” 

Your mouth parts and a vexation of your own clutches you. Enough for you to drop your spoon and lift your hand, palm up. The adrenaline in Jungkook’s system thickens. “Give me the phone.” 

Yoongi's head turns to the screen at the sound of your irritated voice and Jungkook’s smile widens, handing you the device. He knows what you’re about to say will put an end to this difficult situation and he’s eager to hear it, eager for it to happen. 

“Careful, don’t make him crash his car,” Jungkook whispers, ever so smug, just for your ears, but on the other hand, he doesn’t care if it finds a way to your boyfriend’s as well. You gaze at him most solemnly, fleetingly, and he can’t read shit in your expression. He’s not troubled by it, however; he wants you to let loose in whatever form of your choosing, of your liking. You deserve it, to be boundless like that. It’s been a long time coming.

His phone in your hand is too large and he finds it so cute that it helps him relax. Without withdrawing his hand, he hunches over his soup, getting his utensils ready. 

And his first taste of his meal is as good as the first words you hurl at Yoongi. 

“Are you joking right now? Is that all you have to say after everything? You’re actually unbelievable,” you spit, shooting daggers at the screen, your brows furrowed, a lethal glare directed at him. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, but he hears him sigh. “I’d like you to know that it’s my decision that I’m with him. Not yours. You’re not in control of it and you never will be again. I’m with him because I want to be with him, not because you let me be with him or because you think it’s good.” 

Your voice rises in volume ever so slightly, respectful of your surroundings, but untethering your heart free nonetheless. A tortured pain coats it, despite the fact you’re holding yourself strong and it drives Jungkook to let go of his spoon, unable to eat when he feels your agony in all its raw immensity. You struck his awe and all he can do is watch you make order of your life. For your sake and also, most remarkably, for his. A beautiful, beautiful sight.

Love unable to be real turning away, slowly, from the dead end. 

“So, we’re over?” Yoongi asks, small—small voice. Jungkook has never heard it before and butterflies zap his stomach with the strongest electricity they could come across. 

Your face doesn’t change and you don’t hesitate to unleash your next words. “I think you should go see other people and heal from this mess. You’ve grown too attached to your own fucked up impressions and you need a reality check.” 

Such coldness, such brutality. Jungkook can’t breathe—finds it hard to believe this is happening right now, that angels are by his side, keeping his bloodstream flowing. He feels as though he’s dreaming again due to the speck of vagueness in your answer. Yes, you’ve told him to go see other people, but he’s also aware that Yoongi needs the raw truth on a silver platter. If there’s anything he hates with all his being, it’s the abyss of obscurities. It’s the space in his brain for him to make up for the emptiness of your words. 

Jungkook intertwines his fingers with yours, his thumb fondling the crook between your thumb and your forefinger, giving you the little strength he possesses in him—the last of it, all he has. 

Are you breaking up with him or are you taking a break? 

Jungkook longs to know, perhaps he needs it, too, even though both options are more than merciful for such a wretched dreamer like him. A dreamer that has stumbled upon gold in a poor, poor world. 

“Honey, please.” Yoongi breaks into sobs and it’s now, now as Jungkook hears the sound of a raw emotion from such a detached person that he softens, his fury snuffed out in a blink of an eye, and he can’t feel his arms, nor his legs. He realizes, most strangely, that it’s his friend, one he spent the last ten years of his life with. The aftertaste of copper pools in his mouth again and his own eyes wet. Yours, too, your chin quivering the more you take in his devastated state. “I can’t do this without you. I–I don’t know how to.” 

Despite your tenderness, your words remain firm. “I think you’ve managed quite well these past few days. You’ve pushed me away, needed space. So go have it. I won’t suffer through it, though. I’ll do what I want, you should, too. You need to heal in the only way you know how. Alone.” 

Yoongi sniffles, taking long breaths to seemingly calm his shuddering lungs. And pity enfolds his heart, pity for his friend that he’s become such a wreck and that he’s a witness to it, more than the cause behind it. He puts the latter to the side, now is not the right time for it. 

He knows what will happen to him once he breaks the dam of self-blame. It’s not what you need right now and he will make sure to keep that dam of your own safe and stable. It’s his duty. 

“Will you wait for me?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook feels that question curl around his gut. With a light layer of sadness, he returns to his food, his stomach grumbling. 

You sigh, swiping your fingers under the skin beneath your lower lashes, perhaps so Yoongi doesn’t see your weakness. Jungkook watches you as he slurps on his noodles, nervous—terribly, terribly nervous. 

“I don’t know if I’m able to trust you like that again,” you conclude, taking a big breath and Jungkook chokes on his food, coughing so hard that you untangle your hand from his and slap his back. “Gotta go. I’ll call you later.” You end the phone call and gently lay down his phone, rubbing his back soothingly as Jungkook splutters. “Are you okay? What happened?”

What happened? You gave him life. Made a pathway for his dreams to come true. Gave him a leeway to walk upon this earth with no weight on his shoulders. Turned something inaccessible accessible. 

Love unreal becomes real, running headlong in the opposite direction of the dead end. 

The last of his aching coughs emit out of his throat and he swallows, lungs heaving with freedom and easy, easy breaths. The air is different, the oxygen much sweeter. You put his tall glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink, never letting go of him as Jungkook takes a big sip, the cold liquid washing away all of those dark ashes left from the fire of his fury. His vision blurs once he looks at you in this new, shifted reality and there’s a smile to his face, calmness surging through his body, exhilaration most needed twining around it. 

“You tell me,” Jungkook says, almost out of breath—out of his mind. “What just happened?” 

You go back to your soup, squeeze your fried egg open with your chopsticks. “I’m not letting him hurt me again. I don’t have to be strong and take it, do I?” With the yolk spilling in, you push the entirety of the egg white into your mouth, huffing in delight, rolling your eyes back and chewing, cheeks puffed up like a little squirrel. His own utensils go slack in his hand, watching you enjoy your food, his heart enlarging. But then you furrow your brows and stop chewing. “Fuck, it’s cold, but it’s so good.” You sigh and resume chewing, your eyes flicking across the table, your body bouncing excitedly in your seat. You act as though you didn’t just break your own boyfriend’s heart—as if you led a normal conversation with him, in which he was just checking up with you. Jungkook’s awe is so struck that he can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t do anything but watch you with all that love abounding in his being for you. And then you flick your eyes to his and the wrinkle between your brows deepens. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it too cold?” 

He calls your name, firmly. Leans back in his seat with a big sigh. Rubs his eyes with his fingers. “What just happened?” 

There’s simply no way this is real. 

You devour your noodles, swallowing spoonfuls of soup. “I ended things with him, Jungkook, and I’m not coming back to him.” 

His mouth dries, heart picks up speed. How are you saying this with such ease? Isn’t your heart split in two? Your devotion clung to his guy with every breath you took and back at his cabin, you wouldn’t let him play with you unless Yoongi was present. How come it seems like you’re anything but heartbroken right now? 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks in all honesty, confounded by your behavior. 

You push away your bowl, cradling your full belly. “Yes, I’m okay.” 

He doesn’t really believe you. Losing your appetite was proof enough. “Positive?” 

You look over to the side and your chin begins to quiver. There it is. Your hand flies to your face and you hide the rupture of your pretense behind it. The corners of your face, the only parts he gets to see, flush in red and Jungkook grabs your things with a heavy, sinking heart. Walks over to you and gives you his hand. 

“Let’s go home, sweetheart.” 

The weeping clouds have migrated not just to your eyes but to his, too. The night is deep and Jungkook feels it, ardently, coming to rest beneath his skin, floating on its back upon the stream of his tears that he’s stifling. He’s holding your hand and your purse as he’s leading you to his place. You didn’t want to see the face of your apartment. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t stand anything that reminded you of Yoongi and you begged him to take you somewhere you’ve never been before. Jungkook only nodded, brushing away the tears that managed to escape. Thought he’d bring you to any place you’d ever ask, just as long as you stuck with him. 

He’s gained what he wanted for a long time, but at what cost? The two people he loves the most are broken. One, his dearest, he’s grasping tightly so she wouldn’t fly away. The other is becoming but a memory, ten years going down the drain—never to be seen again, never to be continued. 

He has you, but he lost Yoongi. And the realization hangs, heftily, over his clavicles, swinging back and forth, kicking into his chest. 

He can’t stand the sight of him either, however. How strange. 

Once inside the warmth of his apartment, he can’t help but rid you of the hideous flannel of his that you’re wearing, bunching it up in his fists and throwing it away to the corner of his bench on the side of his wall without you knowing. With his hand on the small of your back, he guides you to his living room and he lets you skim your sight all around it, slipping his fingers under the hem of your tiny top, just touching you there. White walls, brown leather couch, a TV that takes up the most of the space alongside the kitchen with a plain dining area consisting of an old wooden, rectangular table with four chairs. A huge singular space of nothingness that has never felt home-like, not until you’ve stepped inside. 

Now, all of a sudden, it has colors. Vibrant, yet soft-toned with each inhale of his breath. You bring your oxymorons everywhere you go and they stay where you reside, even if you move someplace else. The evidence of it is in his very body. While he feels at his most fragile, he also senses himself to be strong. Strong enough to take care of you right at this moment, be there for you and give you anything you’d ever want. And while his eyes are still wet, cheeks bedewed by his softness, he also wants to break this place—self-blame creeping in, threatening to emerge from the hidden spots somewhere within the battlefield of his chest. 

This is his fault. Had he never said yes, you wouldn’t be in pain and neither would his friend be. But in that scenario, he wouldn’t know you existed. Wouldn’t have you. Would lead a forlorn life, with his paints and his alcohol. 

You would be happy with Yoongi. Radiant, glowy. With your glitters, your little dresses. Your nighttime robes and your little lingerie. 

Would you? Has he ruined your happiness? Has he ruined you? 

Jungkook turns you around to him. He needs to ask you; he needs to have the certainty, otherwise he won’t sleep tonight. Won’t even close his eyes—the thoughts would eat away his drowsiness. Leave only wakefulness in their wake. Jungkook presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there, formulating his words, carefully. His hands clutch your shoulders. Your frail, slender shoulders. 

Yoongi devastated your appetite enough that you lost all your soft fleshiness. He took it away and he doesn’t even perceive it. It was clear to him by the way you pushed your plate away, when your emotions rushed through; you didn’t have to say a word. And although he grieves the personal loss, still this is something he’ll never forgive him for. 

“Would you have been happy if you never knew me?” he asks, subduedly, torment clawing at his vocal cords. “Would you have been happy with him?” 

A teardrop spills down your cheekbone, plopping onto the material of your top, soaking it. You furrow your brows, seem angry at his choice of words and he regrets them, enough that his mouth rounds in a tender emotion that he’s too weak to stifle back. And then you bunch up his T-shirt, just like you did earlier in the dressing room, and there’s a tendril of relief that maybe he didn’t fuck up so majestically. He wants to weep; holding them back pains him too much and that ease, that repose is all he wants. It’s not that he’s shy or unwilling to let out his feelings—it’s just that he’s putting yours above his, deeming them more important. He wants to be strong for you, someone you can lean on—and how can he do that for you when he’s crumbling on the inside? 

“How can you say that to me?” you ask in disbelief and Jungkook wants to rewind back the time. Wants to keep quiet and just hold you through this fateful night. He winces, looking away, his own chin quivering this time and he can’t—he can’t hold back. He possesses no strength. A tear trickles down his cheek, one full of agony, hot against his skin and he whimpers, he whimpers when you cradle his face in your hands, step on your tippy toes and press your lips against his. Your mouth is so warm and he’s shivering with cold; silky while his are ruined by the constant biting he did in the car. He is a ruination—how can you want him? He ruined your relationship. And now even his tears have stained your angelic, pure face. 

“I feel like I’ve ruined everything,” he admits and his chest hurts, lungs tight, body trembling in that persisting cold. “I’ve ruined your relationship. I’ve ruined your life. Yoongi’s. Caused so much pain, so much trauma. Only because I let my friends convince me into going out when I came back from the military.” 

The wrinkle between your brows smooths down and you pout, caressing his face. Jungkook can’t halt the rivulet of his liquid emotions. Not when he feels your love so awfully intensely, embracing him around and around, tightening, giving him a sense of safety. 

“Can I tell you something?” You take his hand in yours and Jungkook already misses your warm touch on his face. He nods. “Where’s your room?” 

He leads you there and you crawl onto his bed, patting the space beside you, curling on your side. He mirrors your position and you prop the side of your leg on his, intertwining your fingers with his on the bedding, moving his hand to your mouth. 

And your words seep into his fist. 

“We were together for five months and I never met his family. Never met his friends, except you. I never really thought about it in depth because he kept me busy, despite the fact all we did was fuck. It was enough for me, I guess, because I’d been alone for a long, long time before I met him. And I’m a bit of a loner myself so I didn’t mind that we spent all of our time in his apartment, fucking and watching movies. It wasn’t until I met you, Jungkook,” you pause, taking a big breath in, fondling his knuckles with your thumb, soothing him, soothing the drowsiness that is suddenly falling upon him like a blanket, waving off his tears, drying them. “That I realized it’s not really supposed to be like this in my life. I remember that night when he was out with you and I was in the bathroom. I thought about when was the last time he took me out and I shivered. I shivered, Jungkook. It was the first seed sown and I didn’t know. And when you came into my life, I spent my weekends out with you. You took me to your cabin, you took me out to dinner dates. Even today you took me to the mall. I realized it’s supposed to be like this. Yoongi never did that.” 

Your words tingle across his fist and he’s quick with his own. “But were you happy?” 

So are you. You don’t hesitate. “I thought I was, but the way I’m happy with you can���t compare to the way I thought I was happy with him.” 

The truth wafts in the air, sweetening it and another onrush of tears come out of his tear ducts. He leans in closer to you, nose to nose, sniffling, sobbing quietly and you kiss his hand. Over and over, breathing against his skin. Light opens in him as the truth unfolds—with the little time he had with you, he managed to make you happier. Not just happy, but happier.

“I had a lot of time to think about this. It wasn’t just today that he didn’t speak to me. He barely did throughout the week, but today was the worst of it all and I couldn’t take it anymore. It hurt, it hurt so much,” you continue and Jungkook knows how much it pains you, when Yoongi abandons you over and over, clawing his fingernails in your scars. He’s glad, brims completely with that gratefulness that it also rolls down his cheeks, mingling with his tears, that you were strong enough to put a stop to it—as hard as it was. “And you know what I think? Yoongi needs someone like that. Someone who’s a much bigger loner than I am. Someone who’s okay with staying home, with keeping things casual. He needs a friend and I’ll continue being that for him, but not in the way he wants. I’ll be there for him, but not as closely as he was used to, you know? It has to be a process. I can’t just disappear out of his life. I don’t have the heart to do that.” 

Extending his arm, Jungkook invites you to rest your head against his bicep—only because he yearns to touch you. Without untangling your intertwinement, you lay against him, breathing in his scent and Jungkook wraps the same arm around your shoulders, cocooning you in. Body to body, his lips against your forehead. You look up at him and he looks down at you, a profound exchange of glances. The reality shifts once more, the energy deepens, filling it with something beyond affection and love—fate thickening the air, intense, earnest and impassioned. And submitting to it, Jungkook raises your chin and kisses you, deeply, slipping his tongue inside just briefly. Kisses your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hides himself in that crook, breathing with you and nothing else.

A brand new reality. 

He can’t help but think about how smart you are. How admirable, how good. How well you handled everything, how well you made an order out of your life and ultimately out of Yoongi’s, too. Like Jungkook will take care of you, you will take care of Yoongi—not leaving him on his own with his shattered heart and mental health. He just hopes that sometime soon, he will be able to have a part in it, too. It’s his utmost wish. No matter how upset he was with him, how strongly he disliked him in certain moments, it’s still a person he loves, a person he spent the last ten years of his life with. A family, almost. 

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me?” Jungkook whispers, squeezing you against his body, drawing you closer until your lungs and his gain that singular synchronization. Your leg straddles his torso and he grows greedy, needing you even closer. Needing to get underneath your skin. 

“I’ll try my best to make it happen,” you whisper back, running your fingers through his hair. The light that shines in your eyes faintly illuminates his shadowy room and it’s precisely the one he longed to see. Something tells him it’s here to stay and it drives his thumb to caress your wet lashes, the skin beneath your eyes, your rose-kissed cheek. 

Jungkook trusts you. You’re such a badass that you will succeed in anything you set yourself out to do. And he tells you. Asks you if you want to take a bath. Thinks it will distract your heart from what it knows, from what it’s used to. Teach it something new—something you will connect only with him.

And your reaction enlarges his heart to the point that it breaks his ribcage. Your eyes widen, its light erupting, blinding him, and you gasp, lifting your whole body and grabbing his shirt in your fists. He chuckles in endearment. 

“You have a bathtub?” 

And your eyes almost fall out of their sockets at the sight of it once he carries you to his bathroom and sets you down. He kisses the back of your head, his hands on your hips, guiding you closer to the bathtub, reaching over to lift the tap and let hot water pour down. You both need it after such an emotionally-exhausting day and Jungkook is eager to get in with you. 

“Stay here. Don’t strip. I’ll get your candle,” Jungkook says, lowly, squeezing your hips once and caressing your bum as he turns around and heads to the kitchen. 

He wants to be the one who takes off your clothes. Plans to do something with you he hasn’t done in a long while, something he deems you deserve after everything you’ve been through. He grabs your mango-scented candle, your bag of cheese balls, a lighter and a chair and returns to you. 

You’re crouching by the bathtub, your hand flowing in the hot water, its steam curling, tenderly, your hair cascading down your back. Jungkook pats the back of your head to announce that he’s come back and you smile up at him, your eyes big and twinkling, so magnificent that he grows weak in the knees, butterflies fluttering their wings in his stomach. 

Lighting up your candle, you watch as he does it, each three knots flaring up to life and suffusing the air with a balmy, tropical scent. He sets it down on the chair and, helping you stand up to your feet, he doesn’t waste a second. His fingers hook under the hem of your top and fling it out. And because he knows you’ve never bared yourself like this before him, he hides your nakedness by pressing you against his chest, your soft breasts a pleasure, his digits sliding beneath your leggings and dragging them down your hips, looking over your shoulder. You shimmy out of them, moving your hips ever so delightfully and before he knows it, he’s on his knees—kissing the apex of your thighs as he takes your feet out of the pant legs. And he thinks he could stay here all his life. 

Jungkook looks up at you as he removes your socks, kissing your knee without breaking the gaze, and he hopes that you can sense his love for you in it, the unyielding stability that he will cling to you with his body and soul—simply, with his entire being. 

Rising slowly, he kisses his pathway up, leaving behind the translucent evidence of that love. Your mound, which makes you giggle, a celestial symphony to his ears, your full tummy where he hopes your invisible rose tattoos still are, both sides of your ribs, the middle of your breasts, your sternum, your collarbones, your throat, your chin—up and up until his lips find yours. And he devours them. With such vigor that you hum into his mouth, your hands reaching for his shirt again. 

Oh, you want him to get in as well. Very well. 

He wanted to be the witness to your relaxation, but if it’s your desire that he shares it with you—by all means. He lets you take off his shirt, lifting his arms for you, and you’re quick to allow your hands to discover the parts they don’t know. His mole beneath his left pec that he caught you staring at shortly after that turn of events at the cabin. You press your mouth against it, unravel your love for it there by grazing your teeth against it before you lick it over with your tongue, going as far as marking the spot right beside it. Jungkook sinks his fingers in your hair, reveling in it, tummy tingling, holding you like that as you do what you please. Your own digits descend to his pants, setting him free from them and when you get on your knees just like him, his cock tightens in your face. 

And he dies, angels know for how many times today, when you rub your face in this intimate part of him, his heart bursting.

Not now—he can’t let you do that now. He wants your muscles to relax first before he can strain them all over again, in a much different way. 

“My sweetie,” he starts, sighing, rubbing your scalp. He takes you by the back of your neck, sliding his hand underneath your armpit, and drags you up. A healthy, radiant flush adorns you and he’s glad for the paleness to be gone. Glad his body is the cause of it. It makes his heart happy. “Not now. Let’s get in the tub.” 

Your stiffened nipples brush against his bare chest and he almost doubles over, loving the feeling of it. The sigh that leaves your mouth, so akin to his, too. 

“But you’re hard,” you whisper, tugging down his boxers until his cock springs free and you immediately wrap your small hand around it, squeezing him lightly. 

He can’t help but to grunt, the faint pleasure dizzying. He missed your hand, missed your touch. Haven’t had it in so long. It fits so well in your fist and he believes, in all seriousness, that it belongs to you. It’s yours. 

He brushes his lips against yours, but he doesn’t kiss you. His brain malfunctions a little bit, the pleasure you’re giving him zapping his dominance. “You like holding me like this?” 

You fondle his tip with your thumb and he hisses, sparks of electricity coursing down his body and he hums at the aftershocks. So good. He feels his arousal drip for you; feels himself lengthening in your hand. You nod, watching it happen, and while it feels nice to be looked at like that, he wants your eyes on him. He cradles your face in one hand, making you look at him, and he pecks you. At the contact, you finally nod your head. Jungkook envelops his palm around your fist and guides you to squeeze him harder, groaning onto your mouth. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises and embraces you, hiding himself in the crook of your neck again, inhaling you. Petrichor, mango, your personal scent. It’s all he wants to breathe in for the rest of his life. It’s what heaven must smell like. Actually, heaven must be what he’s hugging. 

You whimper and for it Jungkook tightens his hold around you. Skin to skin. He’ll never get over it. “I love being good for you.” 

He hums his approval, following the cascade of your hair down your back with his palm, rooting at your bum, grasping the flesh. “You’re the best girl. Let’s get you clean.” 

The loss of contact aches and he can see it even on your face, an adorable pout forming on your mouth. Helping you get in the bathtub, you wait until he joins you and it’s only then that you sit down, unsure of how both of you are going to fit in such a small space like this. Knees in between his, you exchange a few giggles in the awkwardness of it all before Jungkook kisses them and leads you to lean back against him, your spine against his chest, your body getting lost in his. 

Turning off the tap, the water is scorching but pleasant, his muscles relaxing, the very little remnants of the fight of his self-blame tearing apart at last. It must be as enjoyable for you because once you settle in and you take in the heat, the effect of the candle, the dimmed light and the soft shower of rain pittering against the windows, you let loose completely, your head slack against his sternum, breathing steadily, eyes fluttering closed. Jungkook wraps his arms around you, your breasts pressed against them, and he loves the feeling of your raw femininity in his hands, in such a nonsexual context. His arousal might be alive and longing for you, but that feeling, somehow, overweighs it in a way he’s unable to understand. 

He doesn’t mind; he could stay like this. 

And both of you do for some time, feeling each other’s top halves of bodies, resting, thinking of nothing, until you tip your chin and, puckering your lips, you ask for a kiss. Arch your back until your breasts bounce free from his hold. His cock twitches against your back from the sight and you smirk. 

Sly little girl. He cages them once again, though this time quite differently. One hand grabs the flesh at the base, the other sneaks to your chin, your other breast nudged in the crook of his elbow. His finger traces the lines of your lips, flattened now, kissing it every once in a while. And as if it was a signal for you to open up when he stalls his movement in the middle, you open up for him. And the feeling of your tongue, the suction of your lips, the sound of it all—it drives him to head down the path of absolute madness. 

He might have just found his ultimate weakness. 

Jungkook adds a second finger in, when you angle your body, so he can have a good view of it, your head propped against the bathtub wall, lidded eyes fixed on him. 

So much for relaxing. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, swiftly, causing your brows to knit in confusion. It humors him, but you’re not getting your way that easily. 

“You should relax,” he scolds in a teasing manner, not meaning a word of it. “You’ve had a long day of shopping.” 

You laugh through your nose, a soft smile gracing your lips and for a split second, Jungkook wonders if he didn’t ruin the moment again by altering the reality again, bringing back the memory of what’s happened. If he didn’t invite in your guilt, perhaps. You’re here with him, about to be made love to, while the person you still love is dealing with brokenness on the other side of the city. 

And he tells you in the form of a kiss sunk into your cheek, drawing your body closer to him, cradling the back of your neck, squishing you against him. It causes you to turn your body to the side, slightly, and Jungkook hikes you higher, letting you lean your face against his cheek like that, pecking you over and over again. There isn’t enough body of water to overspill from the tub, but your shifting caused small waves to lap at your body and Jungkook finds himself transfixed by the sight of it. It seems as though the ripples are worshiping your body and an inkling to do the same, to do better, rises in him—as well as the impulse to tell you with words this time. 

He should verbally communicate with you. Just to be safe. 

“Did I remind you of it again?” 

Your fingertips follow the valleys of his abdomen, half dipped in the water. 

“Remind me of what?” you say and there’s a striking gentleness to your voice, some kind of blissfulness that feels terribly foreign to him. “Of my freedom?” 

A bearable tightness clutches his chest, interlaced, most heartily, with the simplicity of his shock. Freedom. With his directions, you set yourself free. It should be something to perhaps honor and rejoice over—so why is there still a morsel of pity swarming in him? He needs you to tell him. 

A streamlet of tears blurs his vision. Because his clinginess to you intensifies with each move forward, for the most part. Because he feels bad for his friend, for the lesser. 

“Why do I feel so bad for him?” Jungkook questions, pressing you harder against him until there isn’t any more space to push you into. 

You plop your body onto his. Chest to chest. Tummy to tummy. His cock, a bit soft now, against your femininity. Nonsexually, in all its beauty. You drag your thumbs under his waterline, collecting his essence of pain. His heart constricts. 

“My freedom is his,” you say, still holding him like that—both palms on his cheeks. “We’d be stuck in a circle like this. We’d go round and round until one of us would burst and end things eventually. He’d never fully heal in this environment. He’d never look past his own insecurities, not when I’d continue to enjoy myself with you the way I always did.” 

He thinks the merry go round had already begun the moment he and Yoongi made up and tried again. And considering the last thing he said to him on the phone today, there’s nothing left to do but to accept it. 

Your freedom is his. Those words ring in his headspace, settling there. By unbuckling yourself from the seat of that ride, you did the same for him. And while you got off, Yoongi still remains seated. 

For now. 

He’ll get out of there. Jungkook believes in him. 

“I’m meant to be with you,” you say and his heart goes wild, violently, under your forearm. For you. You’ve said it. You’ve made it official. Brought it into this new reality and Jungkook could weep again—and he does. Touched by his emotions, you kiss his tears, sighing against them. “I’m yours, Jungkook. Have been the moment I looked into your eyes the very first time.” 

Your bare, boundless truth drives him to reveal his, too. Such power you have, such strength. 

“You know I have feelings for you, right?” he murmurs, an allusion to the way you wept together in the dressing room, brushing your hair back, feeling his tenderness radiating off of his eyes, immensely. How easy it is, to tell you something groundbreaking like that, even as absurdly as he did. “Don’t let go of me. Don’t let go of those feelings. Keep them safe.” 

Your own tears pool in your waterline and you nod, a smile glinting upon your lips. So you knew, felt the love like he did, enkindled by your mutual release. He wasn’t wrong. His heart pounds and for the first time upon this trajectory, this doesn’t feel unreal. It feels real. Alive, possible, full of life. 

“I do, too. Held them in for so long. Never admitted it to myself for his sake. But that’s over now. I’ll keep it safe. All of you, Jungkook.” 

You love him. 

His sobs gather in his sternum, his lungs too small to capture them in place. 

You love him. And it’s real. 

Gripping your hair, he kisses you, deeply. And both streams of tears turn into one river—and both of you can’t halt the hunger creeping in. The hunger for more, for your love to burst at last and absorb your reality. Tongues mingling, tasting something new. Teeth clashing, lips tingling. Breaths hard and ragged. Jungkook can’t take it. Can’t hold back his body from lifting off of the rounded wall of the tub, the water sloshing and splashing all around. 

And then you say something that grazes his madness ever so unmercifully. 

“Put it in.” 

He groans, biting your bottom lip, fingertips making dents on your small waist. Horny girl, asking for something you can’t handle. He swears, his arousal awakening yet again in full speed, taking over him wholly. “I haven’t stretched you out yet.” 

You grind your femininity against his tightening cock and he’s done for, feeling your pulse. “Stretch me out like this.” 

He squeezes your ass hard, making you moan onto his mouth, in effort to make you listen to him and submit to his better knowing. “It’ll hurt, sweetheart.” 

Your breath wafts over him as you close your lips over his, sucking. “I can take it.” 

Such a stark contrast to the words you uttered in the dressing room. His madness heightens. So much that he moans into your lip lock, dipping you in the water to make you laugh, clutching onto him as you yelp, your adorable laughter vibrating through the bathroom, bouncing off of the walls and sneaking, in the long run, into the chambers of his heart, coming to live there.  

This is happiness. 

And the vibrations are too, too much for him to handle. So unusual, so beautiful. 

“Hold onto me,” Jungkook commands as he wraps your legs around his torso tighter and rises, stepping out of the bathtub and reaching for a towel in his cabinet while his other hand holds you steady by his forearm under your bum like a child. 

Leaving you to your own strength for a second, he wraps the large fabric around you both, bunching the ends in his fist on your back, exiting out of the bathroom and laying you down onto his bed. Your hair sprawls on his bedding and he thinks you look like an angel, maddened just the same by something beyond lust, by something way purer. He kisses your lips, fleetingly, and begins to focus on your neck, unfurling his love there. He sucks your wet skin, licking it all over, scattering his hard kisses there—the ones that drive you wild, moaning loudly and bravely, deservingly so. And he marks this victorious day there with pretty, pretty colors of red and purple. Doesn’t stop. Not until you beg him, writhing underneath him, excited and eager. 

“Please, Jungkook, take me.” 

Such sweet, innocent words. He listens, cooing, dragging you further up on the bed, so he can lie on top of you and take his hard kisses further down, marking all the places where your invisible tattoos are, bringing them to life all over again. Above both of your nipples, especially on the right one, where that frilly rose was, covering the peak. And he feels you melt, feels you soak his lower abdomen when he sucks on that nub, flicking his tongue, making you cry out so beautifully, so desperately that his arousal for you rigidifies. And when he looks at his artwork, fists propped on either side of you like his knees, it steals all of his breath. 

“You look so beautiful like this. All mine.” 

All his, wet with the last drops of water, with the pearls of his saliva, with your essence coating your folds. Adorned with red tattoos. He has his own on his arm and hand, except on his chest and he thinks the one he gave you make up for it. Thinks they’re his as much as they’re yours and it causes his length to twitch against his stomach, so terribly needy for you. 

“And you look beautiful like this. All hard for me,” you mimic his words and he grows feral, even more so when you continue. “It’s all mine, isn’t it?” You take him into your hand again, but he pins both of your wrists down, above your head. And the smile you grace him with—it makes him yearn to make love to you like this. Bound, while the rest of you would remain the quite opposite. 

He growls, kissing you. “All yours. All yours for you to take and come around. All yours, my sweetheart. Always has been.” He kisses you harder and you whimper. Pulls away just to swirl his tongue around yours, open mouth and all, before closing his lips down again in a profound, warm and homely lock. “Spread your legs for me. I’m gonna get you ready for it.” 

He does it himself, folding you in half, the glistening of your folds visible even in the slight lack of light in the room. Oh, he can’t have you like this. Reaching behind himself, he turns on his bedside lamp, bathing you in a soft, yellow light that suits you the most. You’re holding your legs apart for him and he places wet kisses on the back of your thigh, ravagedly, to reward you for it, trailing them down until he’s face to face with your drenched princess parts. And it’s a groan of relief that emits out of him when he’s this close to you, hands pushing your knees down, spreading you even more to gratify his hunger. 

He’s starving. Terribly starving. 

And he rolls his eyes back when he takes the entirety of you into his mouth, tongue dragging upon your slit, up and down, drinking your dew, penetrating only a little bit just to tease you, just to mess around with your madness. And when he flattens his tongue against your swollen clit, you cry out. Surprise him when you grip his hair, enough to cause him to flick his eyes to you. Your mouth is parted, but grinning nonetheless, your own eyes heavily lidded, emitting light and joy and Jungkook simply decides to make this experience better for you. 

He lifts your hips in the air and devours you, lapping at your clit over and over again, letting you see what he’s doing to you without taking his eyes off of you, nose pressed against your shiny mound. You whisper your vulgarities and he’d let it pass if he didn’t consider this a holy, spiritual occurrence. He withdraws and it doesn’t go unnoticed by him, the way your slick trickles down your clit and your mound, rooting in the squishy part of your lower tummy. He hums, delighting in the sight. 

“Be good,” he scolds, smiling down at you and your grin widens. You nod your head, your hands still crossed above you without his to hold them down. Scratch his words—you’re already the best girl. He licks up the trickle of your essence trailing down your clit, making you writhe again. “Feel how wet you are for me.” 

Carefully, you skim your palm down your soaked belly, gasping, until your fingers reach your nub, the concoction of his saliva and your arousal seeping into your skin. He encourages you with noises of approval to keep going, bending you even more in half, your back leaning against his thighs, the pads of your fingers circling your center, eyes wide at the discovery, able to see just how celestially aroused you are for him. So beautiful. He bites onto the flesh upon the side of your thigh, only because he can’t help it, soothing down the sting with his tongue. And he hums at the sound of your moans, at the sound of your slipperiness when you drag your fingers down to your clit and stop there. 

“Hm, yes, sweetheart, rub that pretty clit for me,” he murmurs and his chest explodes at the principle that he’s able to say that to you. That he doesn’t need anyone’s permission or approval. That he can do whatever he pleases with you without any consequences to reap. That he’s free. You must be thinking about this, too, but in a different way, because you hesitate. He’ll destroy that dubiety. It won’t show its face again—as long as he lives on this earth. “You can do it, my love. You’re free.” 

The reassurance washes over you and rids you of that fleeting negativity. He understands this is new for the both of you—there’s some still getting used to, so it’s completely normal. He’ll try his hardest to make this as much of an easy ride for you as he can. It’s his duty. 

“Don’t be afraid,” he continues, adding your name, softly. “You’re here with me and you’re safe.” 

Jungkook leans over and kisses you. You nod into the kiss and he returns to his position, catching you rubbing your clit, slowly, with two fingers, the other spread on your folds. And both of you moan simultaneously. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, enthralled, making way for the sound of your slick to overpower the atmosphere. “That’s my good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.” 

You whimper his name, buckling your hips in his hold, squeezing your eyes shut and Jungkook can see the waves of pressure charging your tender body. Now is the time for his participation. 

He sinks his middle finger inside, making your eyes pop open and stare him down, just for you to submerge yourself under the surface of that sea of lust and let your irises whisk back. Your walls clench around him and he waits until you speed up your circles to join his other finger, biting his lip to push back his desire to sink himself inside you. He tries to pay little attention to the way he drips for you. 

But then you use the rest of your fingers to bring yourself to your climax and Jungkook takes it as a sign. Another finger in, he curls them, fucking you the way you like. Fast, grazing your sweet little spot that beckons your sweat out of your pores and when your pussy drools even more for him, he adds another. You gasp and he knows exactly how you’re feeling, how good this is for you. 

“You feel so full, sweetheart, don’t you?” he coos, jackhammering his hand harder and you drench it, completely. He flattens his fingers, allowing you to see the thick sheen and you mewl, a litany of his name spilling along. “You’re so wet. So horny for me, aren’t you? You’re gonna come?” 

You scream your agreement, squirming, strumming your fingers harder and this is it for him. He changes direction. Fucks his fingers up and down and your toes curl, chest heaving heavily and you just keep on screaming. A delightful sound. 

“Come for me, then. Like the best girl you are.” 

You clench around him. So much that he can barely move his fingers, sunk in so deeply. He just flexes them, drawing out your orgasm and you give it to him. 

And you’re wet all over again. Sprinkled by pearls upon pearls of your pleasure. He is, too, and it worsens his desperation for you. 

You’re panting, but he’s not done with you. Setting you down, he laps up the violent evidence of your orgasm, making you twitch in overstimulation and he eases the pressure of his tongue for you. Sucking on your folds, he decides to mark you there. Just below your hip bone, too. Such intimate places. Perfect for a temporary keepsake like this. 

Hovering above you, he circles his tongue tinged with your taste around yours, forcing you to moan again. And he kisses you softly. “You deserved that orgasm.” 

You whine, red all over, and Jungkook understands you need more. He pulls away, clutches himself to line up at your entrance, but you stop him. 

“I want you.” 

He smirks, longs to hear you be more specific. “How?” 

You huff. So adorable. “In my mouth.” 

He chuckles. Should’ve asked where, but he’s at your service—he’s willing to give you anything you want. “All right, but just for a little bit, okay?” You nod, vehemently, and he pats your cheek. “On your knees.” 

Oh, he’ll never tire of the view of your submissiveness, of your hunger for such a private part of him. He makes a mess for you on the towel, dripping more than he ever has, and he holds himself at the base, grabbing your jaw in his hand. Brutality, the one he’s obsessed with, swims past your irises when you gaze up at him. A feral animal, an angel in hiding—he’d love to embellish you with the sticky traces of his fixation, but he shouldn’t, no matter how much he craves it. He can’t stain you, not today. Can’t ruin the holiness. He’ll let you play with him before he seals it for all eternity. 

Tomorrow he will. Smear you with it until it’s all your pores know. 

Jungkook traces the lines of your mouth with the tip of his length, just like he did with his finger in the bathtub, and you hum, liking it. He can vividly see your yearning to rub your face against him again and he lets you, encourages you in fact, pulling you closer until you nuzzle your nose against his girth, his skin caressing your cheek, and you kiss him all over. Place your hands over his and suck him inside your mouth, drinking his precum. Only to withdraw right away, sit back on your legs without lifting your hands, and look up at him with the vastness of your overbearing innocence and love. 

“You’re mine,” you purr, fucking him with your fist. 

Jungkook nods, just once. Doesn’t even feel his butterflies anymore, too numbed by you, by the pleasure you’re giving him. “That’s right, my love.” 

You suck in a breath, biting your lip hard as if it took all of your energy not to make him come at this very instant. And you lengthen your spine, asking for a kiss again, and he bends at the waist, kissing you nastily, pushing your head back to his cock, inciting you to do what you truly crave to. 

And you take him so well, your cheeks hollow, and he’s unabashed, free to let out his male noises, whimpering for you, panting heavily as you bob your head, slurping him, spitting on him. You toy with his tip, tugging at his length, colliding into his fist and it isn’t until you rub your face against his balls that it becomes his undoing. He stalls his orgasm, strains to do so, just to please you and he pries your hands away from his length, lets you focus on his sack. The least he could do to last. But then you grab it into your fist, sucking his balls, one by one, into your mouth, even try to take both of them at once and that’s it. He can’t breathe, his heart wringing painfully with all the love that brims in him for you. No one has ever done that to him. 

You flick your tongue against them, your other hand wrapping around his tip again, tugging and he nears dangerously close to the bursting of his orgasm. 

“That’s enough.” 

He draws you away from his cock, using all of his strength, and pins you down. A splutter of your giggles waft in the air, your chin wet with your spit and he moves his mouth so rapidly against yours that you struggle to kiss him back, growing calm all of a sudden, as if overcome with the gravity of it all. 

He looks at you for a long while. Puffy, red mouth, that he craves to bite onto—and he does. Darkened eyes, full of freedom and exhilaration. Neck, chest, tummy and the rest of the delicious parts of you scattered with hickeys, with his own personal keepsakes. He loves you so much that he becomes frustrated, needing to let it out somehow. All of his muscles tense and he clenches his grip on your wrists. 

“You want me to die? Is that what you want?” he hisses, speaking of the sloppy blowjob you gave him, gliding his wet cock across your seashell. You lose a breath, drowsy eyes fluttering, spreading your legs for him. No wonder you’re tired—you gave it your all. He sinks his teeth hard into his bottom lip, his frustration rising, brows knitted. “You can’t play with me like that. I was seconds away from coming all over your pretty face.” 

“I wanted you to,” you say, loud and clear, and Jungkook is hot all over. 

Turning you over to your side, he squeezes the flesh of your bum until it hurts as a punishment, knowing you’re not ready for the full thing. It’s too soon. Your wincing breaks into a low, alluring moan and it fills him with adrenaline. And then you smile at him, light flashing in your countenance. You’re anything but punished; you’re pleased. 

Looks like you need another form of punishment. 

Fuck it, fuck all spiritual aspects of this. The angels in heaven need to look away for now and cover their ears. He’s going to make love to you in a way they’ve never witnessed before and it’s good that they never will. 

“What did you say?” Jungkook feignedly questions, pinning you back down and burying himself in your heat. Having stretched you out well enough, he gives you his half right away, but he doesn’t stop there, not when you lift your chest off of the mattress, not when you lose yourself in the sudden fullness and the music of your mutual moans. You grip him so tight that he forgets, for a split moment, what he’s punishing you for. 

You stammer, seemingly forgetting, too. And when his mound kisses yours, your words falter altogether—a crescendo into silence. Eyes wide, unblinking, taking him most courageously. Jungkook hums, immensely proud of you, slowly pounding you into the mattress with hard strokes. 

And when he gives you a particularly unmerciful one, you scream, shaking all over in his hands. 

“Yes, sweetheart, that’s what you get,” he purrs, grinding his hips, loving the way he toys with your senses, your peaked nubs digging into his chest, and you can’t catch your breath, your whole body tense. “Too deep?” 

You nod. “Too deep, baby, I can’t take it, fuck. It’s too much.” 

Cooing, he kisses you. The pet name, your tightness—he’s losing his mind and it’s your fault. Your wonderful, wonderful fault. You don’t even let him pull out, you keep him caged in, your walls fluttering against him and he whimpers, shaking like you, unable to continue kissing you. 

“Relax, my love, or you’re really gonna kill me,” he croaks out, ascending to heavenly places where they don’t, in most certainty, don’t want to see him. Sitting back on his feet, he thumbs your clit, helping you calm down. “Good girl. Feels good, stuffed full like this? My thumb rubbing your sweet little clit, hm?” 

It is a miracle, the way he knows your body and knows what to do with it because your walls loosen, enabling him to fuck you, sloppily, your slick squeaking along with your quickening breaths. You scream out your yeses, driving him to give you his all. 

“Just like that,” he whispers, approving, his balls tightening already, the pressure in his lower tummy becoming bigger. 

You deserve the full thing, though. Jungkook places your knee on his shoulder. And with each stroke, his mound stimulates your clit, getting you nice and fast to his level. 

He cradles your blissed-out face, the heel of his palm putting pressure on your throat. And onto that expression of elation, he uncoils his love for you, brutally fucking you until your whole body ripples beneath him. 

“Whose are you, huh?” he moans, driving into you, rearranging your guts. Sweat drips off of his forehead. “Whose pretty girl are you?” 

Your own sounds of pleasure rise in pitch and volume and he senses, he knows you’re about to come for him. 

“Yours, Jungkook, yours,” you choke out and he’s so proud of you that he hums, his balls slapping against your bum, and he kisses you, giving you his tongue. You suck on it, getting him right there to the edge of his orgasm. 

“Fuck, such a good girl. All mine. You know that I love you, right?” 

And the once reappearing absurdity of his choice of words pushes over that edge and you squeeze him, squeeze him hard, milking his cum out of you and he growls into your mouth. You take over each and every one of his senses, making them yours, and he fucks his cum into you, his mouth smacking against yours, as you whisper your I love you’s and he swallows them down. 

Heaven or something beyond. You created it and he wants to spend the rest of his life there. 

Panting, he kisses your jaw, marking you there for the last time. Unbelief grasping him that he finds himself in such a place glazed with love. “You love me?” 

You whimper, shuddering all over, your orgasm still seizing you. “I love you so fucking much.” 

He licks into your mouth, ending your release. “My best girl. I’ll take care of you. I’ll never let you go. You’re never getting out of my sight again.” 

Jungkook lets go of your wrists. They must be cramping, tingling and he massages them in the air, sitting back, his length still inside your homely heat. Your eyes wet again, sobs break out of your mouth and he shushes you most affectionately, his heart twinging. He lifts you and sits you down on his lap, hugging you close to his chest. Skin to skin. You cling to him with everything in you and he holds you together, so you don’t fall apart. 

“You’re my savior. My healer,” you wail, gripping his hair. As if your breaking wasn’t enough, your words hit him hard and his vision soaks along with yours. You’ve never told him that before—never told him the roles he has in your life. He appreciates them so much, holds them dear to his heart. Never wants to forget them. “Don’t ever leave me, please. I beg you.” 

It’s him who now breaks. Right there on your shoulder, beneath the waterfall of your hair. 

“I could never. You’re my life. You’re my everything. How could I ever leave you?” 

You sob harder, lifting your head, and the sight of your rawness makes him fall even more in love with you. Jungkook smooths down your hair and wipes away your tears. Kisses you, deeply, and lingers there. And along with the kiss, you and him exchange your last I love you’s for the night. 

Tub drained, candle snuffed out, cheese balls devoured, the rain finishing like that chapter of your life—Jungkook feels himself entering a brand new one with you, one where Yoongi isn’t present, as he dresses you in his clothes. For panties, he slinks your legs into his boxers, keeping them warm with a pair of his own joggers. Then, he tugs his hoodie down your head, pushing your arms through the sleeves. Smirks at the way his clothes fit you well. As if they were your own. At the way he matches with you. 

He overflows with a thrumming life. 

A brand new chapter filled with myriads of different, ecstatic possibilities. And you seal them to completion, when tucked in bed, lying on his chest, you sleepily utter the first prospect that you want to bring to life.

“Will you take me to your cabin tomorrow?” 

His breath hitches in his throat. He never thought he’d be returning there so soon, especially not with you. His mouth quirks up, body suffused with a foreign excitement, and right away he deduces the reason why you want to go there. 

“You really want that dildo, don’t you?” 

You merely laugh through your nose. 

Oh, he’s calling in sick tomorrow. Will take you there first thing in the morning. Will do absolutely anything for you. 

“I’ll fuck you hard with it until you completely drench it, then. Sleep for now, so we can get to tomorrow.” 

You kiss his clothed chest. Nuzzle your face in it. Whisper your thank you. Jungkook pretends he didn’t just get hard all over again. 

“Good night,” you say. 

He pecks your hair. “Good night, sweetheart.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist

[isadollie]

10/10! • toge inumaki

jjk masterlist | general masterlist

★ fem! reader, reader is a bit insecure

★ i waited for way too long to finally write this ugh. anyway hope u enjoy muah 💋

"i'm not really sure about it..." you sighed, standing in front of the mirror for what seemed like an eternity now.

you bought this dress a few days ago, but it's been on your mind for months. however, now that you finally had it, wearing it, you weren't sure. you liked it, yes, but something was telling you that it doesn't look as good on you as you previously imagined it would.

now you were getting ready for a date night with your boyfriend, happy to wear your new dress. it made you feel anything but confident though.

"what do you think?" you turned to look at inumaki, who's been seated on the couch and watching as you observed at your reflection. "does it look good?" you added, doing a little spin so that he can see it well from every angle.

"salmon." he mumbled with a little nod. you sighed, turning back to the mirror with a grimace.

he hated that. he wished he could tell you how beautiful you look, how lucky he is to have someone like you, but he can't. and he hates it. but at the same time, he couldn't just let you believe all those nonsense insecurities. he knew he had to intervene.

focused on the way you look, you didn't even notice inumaki walking out of the living room.

a few minutes later he came back, letting out a small cough to catch your attention. you turned around again, raising an eyebrow as you saw him carrying a stack of papers.

"what's that?" you asked, pointing at his hands.

your boyfriend walked closer, striking a pose, as he raised first sheet above his head. "beautiful" was written on it, a few red hearts drawn all over the page.

your eyes widened slightly, but you couldn't hold back the little smile which appeared on your face. inumaki kept on changing the little signs in his hands, showing you every single one. "so cute", "breathtaking", one word of this kind was written on each paper. you chuckled as he showed you another one, he clearly wasn't sure how to spell "gorgeous".

finally, he ended his little presentation with the last sign - "10/10".

you leaned in to kiss his cheek with a smile, which resulted in a small blush painting his cheeks. "thank you, i needed that." you said gently.

he already knew he will use these signs more often from now on.

[pupkashi]

the jjk boys getting jealous

including gojo satoru, nanami kento, fushiguro megumi, itadori yuji, inumaki toge, okkotsu yuta, fushiguro toji,

a/n: hi hi !! hope u are all well and thank you guys for the requests sorry it took so long i hope you’ll enjoy ,, not super proud of them but feedback is very appreciated !!!

wordcount: 2,410

masterlist

warnings: majority of them are a bit suggestive i think that’s about it

— gojo satoru !

he tells himself he isn’t the jealous type, who could compete where they don’t compare?

will absolutely shove any jealousy he might feel deep deep down and cover it up with cockiness (he hates when you learn to read him like a book because now it’s just a dead give away)

anytime you do get flirted with or hit on he’ll watch happily as you reject them

most of the time he’ll stroll on over and snake his arms around you, kissing you with a smile on his face, making sure to make the smooch sound loud enough for the other person to hear

he’ll be a bit more handsy than usual, clinging to you and doting on you for a bit longer than usual

he’ll be possessive for a bit when he gets you alone, nipping at your skin and kissing you until your head spins and you’re chasing his lips out of sheer need

then his cockiness will fade away, his insecurities rattling around in his head, you’d notice it quickly, taking his face in your hands and making his eyes meet yours

“satoru” your voice was firm and he knew he was caught, his stomach hurt a bit, “talk to me lover”

he’d try to laugh it off, saying he’s perfectly fine, but after a beat of silence he’d frown, his bright blue eyes darting down to where your hands intertwined

“just got a bit jealous, made me think maybe you deserve a life without me” a soft mumble, “also fucking hated that guy checking you out i wanted to rip his damn head off” he grumbled

you’d give him all the reassurance he needs, holding him close for the rest of the night, you even let him be the little spoon

he’d fall asleep with a small smile on his face, your fingers carding through his snowy hair mumbling on about a show you were watching

gojo realized he didn’t have to be jealous, not when you’re both so madly in love with each other, not when he knew it was going to be forever with you

— nanami kento !

he doesn’t get jealous very often, he’s confident in your relationship and he knows nothing could break the love the two of you have for each other

when he does get jealous however he will absolutely scare the hell out of the other person trying to flirt with you

he’s stare at them from behind you with his arms across his chest, muscles straining against his the rolled up sleeves of his button up

his eyes would narrow at any comment they’d make, but he knew you could handle yourself

“wanna go out sometime?” cockiness in their voice, you could hear kento scoff

“kento what do you think, you wanna go out to dinner with this hot shot?” his lips would turn up into a smile, shaking his head

“I’m alright my love, I would love to break their nose for checking you out though” his voice was deep and their eyes would go wide, walking away from the two of you

when you’d get home he would press a gentle kiss to your lips, his eyes fluttering closed as you laid on his chest

“my love?” you’d hum in response, opening your eyes and sitting up when he didn’t reply immediately, “what’s wrong honey?

he’d look at you for a bit, taking in all your features before looking away as he spoke, “you’re all mine, right?”

you didn’t hesitate to reassure him, holding him close to you, “only yours my love, and you’re all mine”

the rest of the night was spent between cuddles and giggles, only drifting to sleep when the sun was coming up

nanami didn’t care, not when you looked so beautiful in his arms and his heart was full knowing he was the only person to see you like this

— fushiguro megumi !

acts like absolute nothing is wrong, has a little scowl and pout on his face whenever you’re getting hit on but he tries his best to hide it

he makes it a bit obvious when he joins your side, clearing his throat and pulling you to his side, he eyes the person, his gaze unwavering and intimidating

“this is my boyfriend megumi” you smile, unaware of the persons flirting attempts

megumis eyes would narrow at the person, causing them to walk the other way because the dark haired sorcerer is flexing his biceps and they do not stand a chance in a fight against him

he’d turn to you, kissing your cheek, “let’s get out of here yeah?” you’d nod, the two of you saying goodbye to any friends present and heading out

the second the door closed to your shared apartment he was all over you, pressing kisses to any exposed skin possible

“you’re mine, only mine, you got it?” his voice was deep and it sent chills down your spine

“wanted to beat that guy up for looking at you like you were a piece of meat” the words came out as almost a growl, “doesn’t he know you’re only mine to have?”

your knees were weak and you’re glad his arms were holding you up against the wall, your head spinning as he left marks along your neck, vision blurring as he pressed kisses to the sweet spot on your neck

“I’m only yours gumi” your voice was a bit shaky and it made him smile against your skin, pulling away and placing a much more gentler, loving kiss to your lips

“let’s go get ready for bed” he’d whisper and you’d nod, smiling as he carried you to the room, setting you gently on the bed before running the warm water for your shower

when you joined him in bed he’d held you close to him, kissing the top of your head as the two of you talked about your day

he’d say something stupid and you’d burst into a fit of giggles, your cheeks flushed and he smiled at the sound, pressing a kiss on your cheeks

any jealousy he felt fizzled away as his love for you nestled it’s way further into his heart, at the end of the day you were only his, you he was all yours <3

— itadori yuji !

doesn’t get jealous because he doesn’t know when someone’s flirting with you

he’d join them in complimenting you, “right? my y/n is just so beautiful and smart im so luck to have them” confused as to why the other person is staring at him in complete shock

“yuji is my boyfriend” you’d state, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer to you, he’d only smile widely, kissing you happily

when he does catch onto another person flirting he gets very possessive

he’d stare at them with his jaw clenched, friendly eyes now narrowed and dark, his fists clenched at his sides and he’s just waiting for an excuse to punch them in the face

“how about i take you out and show you what it’s like to be with a real man” yuji didn’t even let you reply, placing you behind him and shoving the guy backwards

“or how about you stop flirting with other people’s partners you fucking asshat” his voice low and you could tell any comment would set him off

“yuji let’s go home, okay?” your voice was sweet and his gaze softened when his eyes landed on you, nodding as you grabbed his hand and led him away from the other man

if the other guy made the mistake of saying something about you as you walked away, yuji would slip out of your grip, punch the guy square in the face and rejoin you like nothing happened

he’d pepper your face with kisses when you got home, apologizing to you for letting his emotions get the best of him

“got a bit jealous i guess,” he’d mumble and you’d smile, your cheeks flushed and you shook your head

“you’ve got nothing to get jealous of, there’s no one i want besides you” he’d giggle at your words, tackling you with a hug and spending the night in each others arms

if he did punch the guy you’d definitely make out with him heavily because of how hot he looked

— inumaki toge !

doesn’t get jealous very often, but when he does he will wreak havoc if given the opportunity

toge was waiting outside of your lecture hall, a smile on his face when he spotted you, but it quickly fell when he noticed your classmate making your giggle as you walked towards him

“I’m having a kick back at my place this weekend if you wanna come” he smiled, trying his best to charm you, toge rolled his eyes

“I’ll see what toge says” you reply with a smile, your classmate bumped your shoulder, “you should come by yourself, we could spend some time just me and you”

“shut up” toge growled, his jealousy getting the best of him as your classmates mouth shut, you looked at your boyfriend with wide eyes

“toge!” he’d shrug his shoulders, smiling at you sweetly before pressing a kiss to your cheek, “tuna tuna” he mumbled, his eyes starring daggers at your friend

he was flirting with you, he’s lucky i didn’t do anything worse he signed to you and you gasped at your boyfriends words

“cmon be nice baby” you smiled, and toge rolled his eyes, looking at your friend, he debated punching him for trying to hit on you but he figured he’d play nice today

“leave, now” your friend walked away quickly and toge snaked his arm around your waist, the two of you walking towards his car to drive home

“you don’t have to get jealous” you smiled once you were in the car, toge scoffed, “fish flakes” he denied his feelings and your smile only grew

“you were! why else would you use cursed speech on him?” he froze a bit as he realized he was caught, he remained silent until you arrived home

when the door closed you grabbed his jacket collar, unzipping it quickly and pressing your lips to his, he felt his knees buckle a bit at the sheer fervor of your kiss, quickly moving his lips against yours

“I’m all yours toge” you whispered, your boyfriend whimpered a bit, his jealousy from earlier resurfacing as he growled a bit

“say it again” his voice was deep, you felt goosebumps as the words left him, your mouth opening and repeating your words

toge left love bites all over your neck and chest, being sure to make them visible for your classmate to see the next time he saw you

he doesn’t get jealous often, but you pity the person who tries to flirt with you when your lover is with you

— okkotsu yuta !

tries his best to never get jealous, he thinks it’s such an ugly emotion

sometimes however he can’t help himself when you’re talking to his best friend and you’ve got crinkles by your eyes as toge explained something to you

he tells himself to calm down, that you loved only him and surely his best friend wasn’t hitting on you

but the second he heard that cute little giggle leave your lips he was next to you, excusing the both of you and dragging you where no one could hear the two of you

at first he’d just look at you, his eyes full of worry, then he’d feel so many emotions at once he can’t pinpoint what he feels but he knows he just wants to remind you that you’re only him

wordlessly he presses his lips against yours, your mouths moving in sync, his arm wrapping around your waist and holding you tightly against him

“you’re mine, right baby? only mine” he wanted it to sound like a question, but he spoke in a firm, dee voice and your head was spinning from the kiss you’d just shared

you only nodded, chasing his lips for more as he looked at you with a small smile

it’s only later in the day you realize yuta was jealous, and though you tease him a bit you make sure to reassure him there’s no one else in the world you could love

he’d blush and try to deny his feelings, only to have them resurface a bit when thinking about it, you’d only smile and pepper kisses on his face, telling him however many times it took that it was only ever gonna be him <3

you made sure to show him just how much you loved him

— fushiguro toji !

pretty confident in himself but he does get jealous pretty easily

absolutely hates seeing anyone check you out or flirt with you and he will immediately choose violence

“who the fuck do you think you are?” he’d scoff, using his build and height to his advantage, his arm was snaked around your waist as he sized the guy up

“you think my y/n wants you? be serious” he’d laugh, grabbing the guy by the collar and growling at him, “get the fuck out of my sight before i beat the shit out of you”

“don’t you think that was a bit much baby?” your voice was sweet and he almost felt his anger dissipating when his eyes landed on your pretty face

“maybe these assholes just don’t realize who you belong to” he growled, he pulled you closer to him, his lips pressing harshly against yours and you could only whimper as he made your head spin

his lips grazed your ear, goosebumps rising on your skin as he chuckled dryly, “gotta show them you’re only mine doll face”

he wasted no time in taking your hand and finding a secluded corner, leaving a mark on your neck and kissing you until you ran out of breath

“toji please” your voice was small and he smiled, “darling have some decency we’re in public” you rolled your eyes as you tangled your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck

“then let’s go home so you can make me yours” you whispered in his ear, grinning when you heard him groan

he wasted no time in dragging you out of the club and into the car, speeding all the way home just to shove you against the wall and make you tell him you’re only his

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 4 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, SLOW BURN

words: 6.7k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 4 ► i wanna be someone you used to hate without the memory of the pain

It took three and a half hours for the tour bus to reach Warsaw. Objectively, that gave Jungkook plenty of time to tell you about his ex and why he thought that relationship was worth salvaging.

But somehow—that is, by spinning elaborate webs and finding cheap excuses to derail the topic—he told you exactly nothing of what you wanted to know and managed to fall asleep before you could accuse him of beating around the bush.

You wanted to wake him up, but rationality won over. He needed sleep and, truthfully, you didn’t really need to know the full details of his failed relationship. As his manager, you were supposed to know that such a relationship existed and that was enough—you should have let him rest.

And you did let him.

But that did not stop you from wanting to know more.

You hesitated – really, you did, if only for a moment – before you texted Luna. It was three in the morning, but the girl slept during the day and stayed awake watching films with Taehyung at night (no matter how much you scolded him for yawning during rehearsals), so she replied right away.

You were smart enough not to text her the details over the phone – the Rated Riot members had a tendency to steal everyone’s phones just for the fun of it sometimes – so she agreed to come find you at your bunk in the back of the bus.

There were seven of you on this bus: the four members of the band, Luna, you, and the driver. You knew you had to be quiet, but you figured you were safe enough with everyone asleep now that you’d arrived at your destination (except Taehyung, who was still quietly watching Reservoir Dogs on his phone).

“I feel bad doing this,” was what you started with—you needed to make that clear as though it would justify your curiosity. All it really did was intrigue Luna more. “But I feel like I have to know.”

“What is it?” she urged, nearly bouncing with interest as she sat opposite you on your bunk.

So, you told her—in dangerous whispers—about Sid’s revelation regarding the mysterious ex and Jungkook’s subsequent secrecy. Luna listened, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes wide and glistening.

“Alright,” she concluded after you finished. “Here’s what we’re going to do – I’ll ask Taehyung to confirm if there’s any truth to this. That’s first of all. Because, let me be honest with you, everything that Sid told you sounds like he just pulled it out of his ass.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you nodded, “but then Jungkook said it’s true. Why would he lie?”

“I don’t know,” she paused here to think. “Is it possible that he’s just pulling a prank on you? Although I don’t see how anyone would find that funny.”

“Anyone but Sid.”

“Right,” she agreed. “But would Jungkook jump on that? I haven’t really seen him with his friends much, but I assume he draws the line at involving you.”

That was true. All things considered, Jungkook was rarely ever the one who called you for help when he got into trouble—it was usually his friends who did.

“You’re probably right,” you said. Your voice was hopeful, but you could never be fully certain that Jungkook’s friends haven’t pulled him into the metaphorical dark side completely. “But I don’t know what else this could be. He must have dated someone, it’s the only way this makes sense.”

“No—or maybe,” Luna said, her voice rising with sudden excitement. “Maybe he’s trying to get your pity, so you would come to Paris with him.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Maybe he—” she started, but then stopped herself. Biting her lip, she thought twice about the way in which she’d phrase herself next. She didn’t want to instil some sort of false hope inside of you, but she also wasn’t sure if you’d even care. “I don’t know… Would it be outrageous to guess that maybe he just wants to take you out?”

You lifted your eyebrows and couldn’t resist a scoff.

“Unless it’s with a sniper, yes,” you said. “That would be outrageous.”

“Oh, come on,” she rolled her eyes at your absurd dramatics. Her suggestion seemed far more plausible to her, especially after she heard your jeering response, which obviously came from your personal discomfort, and not genuine disbelief. She pointed out, “you dated.”

“Four years ago,” you reminded her in turn. “I barely even remember the relationship or the break-up anymore.”

Luna caught the tentative tone in your voice—like you wanted to believe what you were saying, but couldn’t quite manage it, yet you hoped it wouldn’t show.

It showed. And it gave Luna a pause.

Distracted from the topic of Jungkook hypothetically wanting to take you out on a date, she asked, “why did you break up?”

You and Luna had been friends before you became Rated Riot’s manager (funnily enough, she was the one who introduced you to their music after you mentioned that you might start working with them) – but not before you broke up with Jungkook. She’d never met him, but she was one of your closest friends, so she knew of his existence—although the realization that your ex-boyfriend and Jungkook from Rated Riot was the same person, came later.

Despite that, however, the two of you had never really talked about the reasons why you and Jungkook broke up. You’d never talked about that with anyone. There was never any point for that, really – the people who knew you could tell that your relationship had ended long before you two actually broke up.

“Just—things happened,” you said, looking away and waving a dismissive hand around.

“Come on,” she pleaded again. “You were together for three years. What things could have happened to end that?”

You sighed. It wasn’t a secret or anything. This was just something you happened not to talk about. But, you supposed, it wouldn’t make much of a difference if you did.

“It was the same shit,” you began slowly. “His stupid friends. He was getting drunk every night, picking fights, drag-racing, doing other dangerous, dumb things. Then one night, I had to pick him up from the police station after he got arrested with Minjun—”

“Minjun got arrested?” Luna interrupted, her eyebrows rising. She realised she’d spoken too loudly and looked around warily—the bus was quiet, save for the sound of the film on Taehyung’s phone. She continued, quieter, “I always thought he was the most mellow one, out of Jungkook’s friends.”

“I know, right?” you nodded with a relatable smile. “I still think Sid set them up. Anyway, they were spraying graffiti on some abandoned building downtown, and they got caught by someone patrolling the street. So, they ran and, apparently, spat at the officers. Minjun and Jungkook were the only ones who got caught. That was my last straw.”

Your friend nodded, not surprised, but still unsettled to hear that this was something that you’d had to deal with even before you became Rated Riot’s manager. Luna wasn’t sure if she’d have agreed to work with an ex-boyfriend, especially if that meant interacting with his friends—who were a contributing factor to the break-up, as it seemed—again.

“Wow,” she commented, lacking better words.

“Yeah,” you concurred, because, really, that one syllable seemed to sum it up well. “But that was ages ago. I mean, he obviously hasn’t changed much, but I don’t care about it. I mean, I do, but I care as his manager. Not, uh—not personally. Not anymore.”

Luna caught the awkward stuttering and licked her lips as she tried to fight off a smirk.

“Hmm, okay,” she said, crossing her legs on your bunk. “So, if that’s the case, then why do you want to know about this relationship that he might have had?”

Immediately, you felt the need to defend yourself from whatever she was insinuating, “well, because as his manager—”

“Right,” she cut you off, repeating, “so, as his manager, why do you want to know about th—”

“Okay, fine.” You extended a hand to stop her and closed your eyes in defeat when she chuckled. “I want to know, because this person is going to be at the wedding of our mutual friends. It’s very likely that we’ve met before. A-and Jungkook said that this person might be the love of his life.”

Luna stopped laughing immediately.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “He said that?”

You brought your tongue over your dry lips. “Yeah.”

“Fuck,” she repeated.

“Yeah. I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not—not heartbroken or anything—”

“No, of course not.”

You gave her a look. “I’m just being careful. Because he isn’t. And if this person is anything like his friends, then… you know. It’s not good.”

You couldn’t find a better explanation why that wasn’t good or why this situation required your interference, but Luna understood. She likely understood this better than you did; your mind was still clouded with convictions that you were only doing this for the sake of the band.

“Okay,” she said with a nod. “That’s fair enough.”

This was why you loved her: she didn’t just understand you—wordlessly sometimes—but she also knew when to ask and when not to ask questions.

“Thing is, though,” you continued, folding your legs under yourself as you tried to handle the sudden anxiety that came with talking about this. “What do I tell him? If this person really is bad for him, what do I say without seeming, I don’t know, crazy? Because, when it comes to this, there’s a very thin line between being a concerned manager and a bitter ex-girlfriend. And I’m already overstepping all boundaries by talking to you about this.”

Luna didn’t think you were doing anything crazy—the two of you had done far more plotting over the years—as she tapped her index finger against her lower lip.

“Okay, let me think for a second.” She watched the ceiling of your bunk for a minute or two before asking, “okay, has he, uh—has he been in love with anyone other than you?”

This was an uncomfortable question; she could already tell before she even asked it—and your reaction was intense as you shrunk into yourself and pulled further away from her.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled.

“Don’t be humble,” she scolded kindly.

You clicked your tongue. With your face burning—for no reason other than your own discomfort and, possibly, insecurities—you looked down and shrugged your shoulders, as if this gesture could reduce the weight of your confession.

“No,” you said. “He hasn’t. To my knowledge.”

“Okay,” Luna replied as quickly as she could, knowing that an awkward silence would follow otherwise. “So, once upon a time, he probably thought you were the love of his life. He was wrong, right?”

You swallowed, still not looking up. “Right.”

Luna paused here, thrown off yet again by the lack of conviction in your voice. Normally, you were overly composed and not at all hesitant when it came to this. But not tonight.

It’s been four years, you had said, trying very hard not to hesitate. I barely remember the break-up.

This persistent uncertainty that Luna kept noticing interested her. It interested her even more than your evident stiffness—even embarrassment—about the fact that Jungkook had never been in love with anyone else but you.

She squinted her eyes at you, while you focused on the duvet underneath you, tracing the pattern with your thumb.

There were seven people on this bus, only two of whom had been in the relationship that was currently under discussion,  and yet Luna could have sworn there wouldn’t be anyone who could say that Jungkook had really been wrong about this. That you weren’t the mythical love of his life. That he didn’t love you anymore.

Truly, she realised—not a single person who knew you two, could have said this with certainty. Not even you.

“Right,” she echoed nonetheless—she was making a point, after all. “So, then if he was wrong once, he could be wrong again. Tell him that.”

She extended her hands to signal the ingenuity—and the sheer simplicity—of her plan, and you had to give her a respectful nod as you finally met her eye.

“Okay,” you said, “I guess that could work.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, although she thought you both knew that you’d just be pretending if you used this as an argument against Jungkook.

A small part of her—more chaotic than her other parts—wondered what would happen if you confronted Jungkook about this. If you asked, point-blank, if he’d ever felt like you were the love of his life and if this feeling ever left him.

But she knew you’d never do it. She supposed that the secrecy surrounding your relationship wasn’t just a front for your friends—the two of you didn’t speak much about it to each other, either.

Not to mention, you couldn’t even use the words “love” and “life” in one sentence without looking like you were being executed in front of the whole town.

Exhaling as she watched you get lost in your own thoughts, Luna extended her legs over the ledge of your bunk. “Okay, I’ll go back to Taehyung and—”

You blinked in sudden panic. “Don’t ask him now, though! He’ll know we just talked about this.”

She looked at you with disdain. “Do you think this is my first time gathering intel behind someone’s back? I got this.”

She was right, of course. You had no reason not to trust her; the two of you had done a lot of sleuthing together in the past.

That was why you’d texted her tonight—because she was the one who could give you a different perspective. And in case her perspective matched yours, she was the one who’d help you find the answers you were looking for.

“Okay,” you said. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she replied as she stepped out of your bunk and gave you one more look over her shoulder before she returned to her boyfriend. “Get some sleep.”

Jungkook continued to be evasive the whole day in Warsaw, but, then again, you didn’t talk to him much. You trusted Luna to get to the bottom of this, and focused on your job instead.

And your job needed focus.

Jett Records called to check in—as if they could sense that you were planning a secret trip to France with the band’s vocalist tomorrow. And then you were contacted by radio hosts from Germany and England – they were interested in interviewing the band, so you had to adjust the daily schedules.

On top of that, Hoseok’s drum pedals started to malfunction during the soundcheck, so you and Jimin – the sound technician and an avid drum enthusiast – spent the whole afternoon travelling to various music stores to find a replacement. Jimin insisted he could repair it, but he spent an hour just trying to figure out what the issue was, so you guessed it’d be faster to get a new one.

As it turned out, it wasn’t faster at all. Obviously, neither of you spoke Polish, and, just like the Rated Riot members themselves, Jimin was also very directionally challenged—yet he refused to let you use the map on your phone. Fortunately, both of you were also stubborn, so you huffed and cursed, but you found the bloody pedal in the end.

You were drained by the time Rated Riot stepped on stage for their performance that night, but you’d fixed the drums and gotten everything under control—and that felt good.

You’d done your job well today and all the unexpected errands successfully distracted you from the upcoming trip to Paris.

Once everyone gathered backstage after the show, you and Jungkook were the only two people glancing at your phones and exchanging conspiratory looks, while everyone else had drinks and sang along to Reconnaissance on the speakers—it was long established that this was the band that Rated Riot looked up to at the moment.

You didn’t mind. Reconnaissance had sold out Wembley Stadium on their third European tour. If Rated Riot continued down the path they were on now, their own third visit to the continent could take place in similar venues.

However, you couldn’t just sit here with a soft smile as everyone danced around you, because the train from Warsaw left early in the morning.

This proposed another problem: you hardly wanted to inform everyone that you were going to spend the band’s day off travelling to a wedding in Paris with Jungkook. You debated taking the illness route – surely no one would bother you if you drew the curtains on your bunk on the bus and hung a note, claiming you weren’t feeling well.

But before you could decide on any course of action, Jungkook stood up from his seat next to you and declared to everyone in the room, “we’re going sightseeing around Europe tomorrow. So, if any of you need us, don’t.”  

“Around Europe?” Yoongi repeated with an amused scoff. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means we’re going to be taking trains to places,” Jungkook explained so very concisely. “And we don’t want anyone to bother us.”

Feeling hot all of a sudden—because the way he was describing this was painfully ambiguous—you stood up, too, and tried to do damage control, “what he means is—”

“Have fun, guys,” Hoseok interrupted, gently brushing his hand against your shoulder as he walked past. “It’s our day off, you deserve some rest, too.”

That wasn’t the reaction you were expecting—you were, after all, the manager; and leaving the band so suddenly for the whole day wasn’t, exactly, permitted—but perhaps you should have known better.

All of you spent so much time together that every single staff member in this room felt more like family than your actual family did sometimes. You should have guessed they wouldn’t look down on you for doing this.

Still, you reminded everyone, “if you need me, you can call me. I’m still available, okay?”

Everyone nodded with good-natured chuckles as Jungkook pulled you towards the door—all while you waved your phone around to accentuate your availability.

Because of this, you missed the meaningful glances exchanged between Jungkook and his friends—Sid, Jude, and Minjun were oddly quiet now that Rated Riot, as well as other staff, were in the room with them.

“Don’t call her,” you heard Jungkook whisper at his bandmates as the two of you exited the room into the hallway. “She’s not available.”

Smacking him on the shoulder—and ignoring the annoyed, “ow, for fuck’s sake, this is my singing arm!”—you closed the door of the changing room, but not before adding a rushed, “call me, seriously!” at the guys inside.

You saw them smile and wave before the door clicked shut, and you exhaled slowly.

“This trip better be worth it,” you warned Jungkook as the two of you walked towards the back exit.

“It will be,” he assured you, still rubbing his shoulder. “This is going to bruise, by the way.”

“It’s not going to bruise. I barely touched you.”

“Don’t gaslight me. I’m in pain.”

You stopped walking to glare at him.

“I apologise for hurting you,” you said with a deadpan expression. “Would you like me to put ice on it? A bandage? Kiss it better?”

He removed his hand from his shoulder and turned away very ceremoniously. “Don’t baby me.”

You pushed the exit door open and waved your hand to allow him to leave first. “Then don’t act like a baby.”

He walked out, all while mumbling in discontent, “I’m taking you to a wedding in Paris as my date. You could be grateful.”

Your mouth nearly fell open at his audacity as you followed him outside, the door slamming shut behind you.

“I’m going to a wedding in Paris as your date,” you retorted. “You could be grateful.”

At first, he tried to think of a witty comeback while you browsed your phone to order an Uber, but then he realised that wouldn’t be fair and chose to be honest instead.

“Okay, fine. I am grateful,” he admitted.

You ordered the ride and locked your phone, crossing your arms as the two of you stood in the nearly empty parking lot, illuminated only by a few stray street lights.

“And I am sorry if I really hurt you,” you replied. “I don’t usually use violence.”

Jungkook grinned. “You couldn’t throw a punch even if you tried.”

You lifted your eyebrows and raised a fist. “You want to actually see me try?”

There was an impressed twinkle in his eye. “I thought you said no violence.”

“You challenged me,” you replied, taking half a step back to get into a proper boxing position. His lip twitched in a smile as you said, “I’m really just proving a point.”

“The only point you’re proving is the one I made,” he said, nodding at your stance, “that is not how you fight.”

You looked down at your legs. “What’s wrong with—”

You felt a quick, but gentle poke under your chin that sent your head backwards. Jungkook snickered, pulling away.

“And don’t ever look away from your opponent,” he added. “Can’t believe I have to teach you that again. I knew you never listened to me.”

Your gaze was murderous when you looked at him again. You gathered your legs and stood up normally.

“I am going to wait until you fall asleep on the train,” you said, “and leave your ass in Cologne before our transfer.”

“If you think I won’t find my way back to you,” he replied, “you don’t know me at all.”

Your annoyed expression prompted his amused grin to widen before he puckered his lips and smacked them, a mocking air kiss.

Your glare remained as you stuffed your tongue into your cheek. “You make me so miserable sometimes.”

Chuckling in response, he pointed at the headlights approaching you two from across the parking lot. “I think that’s our Uber.”

Immediately, you made your way towards it. “I’m sitting at the front.”

He caught up with you with one quick stride. The car stopped on the edge of the parking lot as the driver seemingly noticed the two of you.

“Absolutely not,” Jungkook said, knowing you’d rather crawl than endure small talk with the driver. “You’re sitting with me in the back. Or we’re both walking to the train station.”

“I really regret the day I met you,” you informed him.

“No, you don’t,” he argued brightly. “I’m a gift.”

“A gift from hell.”

He laughed as he opened the back door for you, only entering the car after you got comfortable in the furthest corner. Smug, he slid down the backseat until he was right next to you, even though there was plenty of space for, at least, four people here.

Even though you rolled your eyes at him, it’s been a while since the two of you played around like this—like you weren’t simply working together—and you had to resist a smile.

The two of you merely glanced at each other before looking away again as you violently repressed all the memories that this moment outside in the parking lot had brought back.

You and Jungkook were already on the 4 AM train when Luna texted you, “not true!!! TH knows for a fact that JK was sleeping around w Sid's girls when he was in that ‘relationship’. He definitely lied to you!!”

Swallowing—because, suddenly, this made less sense—you lifted your eyes from your phone to look at Jungkook. He was sitting across from you, leaning his elbows on the fold-out table between you in the private compartment of the train.

He wasn’t looking at you as he filmed the view outside the train window (although there wasn’t much to film, it was still dark outside, save for the occasional street light somewhere far in the distance), but he felt your eyes quickly enough. As soon as he turned his head in your direction, you looked down at your phone again.

You didn’t understand. Why would he lie to you?

You typed back a quick, “thanks,” to Luna, and then cleared your throat, putting your phone on the table.

“So, uh,” you said, finally meeting his gaze. “How are you feeling? I realise I never asked you.”

He frowned. “What do you mean? You ask me that almost every day.”

“But not about the break-up,” you clarified, trying to sound as genuine as you could under the circumstances. “Must have been difficult. How long ago did you say you broke up?”

You watched as he clenched his jaw and returned his attention to his phone, proceeding with the video.

“I told you I’d rather not talk about this,” he replied decidedly enough.

“And I told you I’d only come with you to Paris if you talked to me,” you pushed.

Swallowing the unpleasant feeling in his throat, Jungkook finally stopped recording. He clicked something on his phone—just stalling, you were sure of it—and then finally put his phone on the table next to yours.

He’d dug this hole himself—well, actually, Sid dug this hole for him, but he leapt into it voluntarily. Now he had to find a way out.

“Fine,” he said. “I don’t remember exactly when. Maybe two weeks before we left for tour.”

Huh. Sid had said it was four days before the flight to Prague. What were the odds that his useless friend remembered the break-up more vividly than Jungkook himself?

“Right, right.” You nodded, abandoning all sensitivity now that the chances of this being true diminished even more. Unless he cheated on his partner—repeatedly, apparently—he was lying straight to your face. “Did you ask why? Did you, maybe, do something that would have—”

“Are you saying it’s my fault?” he interrupted loudly enough to make his anger seem genuine.

You blinked, momentarily surprised.

“I’m not saying,” you defended. “I’m asking.”

You supposed you could have given him the benefit of the doubt here – that was easier to do than to think of reasons why he’d feel the need to lie about a break-up or a relationship. But Jungkook wasn’t the type to cheat—then again, was anyone, really, the type?

That being said, if Taehyung knew that Jungkook was sleeping around at the time of the supposed relationship, then perhaps these things could have been happening simultaneously. Perhaps his partner found out and broke up with him.

“It sounds like you’re accusing me,” Jungkook said, his gaze firm.

Keeping eye contact, you countered, “I’m just trying to understand.”

“Is it so hard to believe that someone would break up with me?” he asked. “You’ve done it, too.”

Nearly flinching at the abrupt—but factual—accusation, you looked down.

“Okay,” you said as your fingers found the edges of your phone case to toy with. His unexpected statement had cut your interrogation short. “I’m just trying to see what the odds are of you getting back together with this person. If that’s still something you want.”

Jungkook looked away, too, watching the darkness outside of the window. “I’m still thinking about it.”

Unsure what to make of that—especially since now you knew that there was, most likely, no person for him to get back together with—you only hummed in response.

“Let’s just make it to Paris and we’ll see,” he added, honest this time. “I’m sure everything will be fine.”

It was you who lied this time as you gave him a small nod of agreement. “Yeah. Sure.”

That was the extent of your conversation on the topic: he didn’t pursue it further—which would have been weird in any case, considering how much he cared about being taken seriously; and he could see that you were having doubts now—and neither did you. You obviously had more questions, but you knew they’d only work as an opening for him to lie further.

You thought that, if you didn’t know that he was lying, you would have had to respect his decision not to give you more details, even though you were curious. He’d applied the same method to your own relationship, after all. You’d always appreciated it, regardless of how obnoxious it seemed to your friends sometimes—the relationship stayed between the two people that were in it.

But he wasn’t in a relationship now. Not as far as Taehyung and Luna knew.

And yet, this didn’t feel like a good time to get into an argument. Regardless of his motives for this lie, you were on a train to Paris with him. You’d be going to your friends’ wedding together. Then, you’d be taking another train back to join the tour.

You could play along for a short while—if anything, just so you wouldn’t feel uncomfortable for the entirety of the upcoming 24 hours.

Finally, after two transfers – one in Berlin, and one in Cologne – you had four hours left until you’d arrive at Gare du Nord in Paris. Taking a plane would have required less time and fewer layovers, but it was impossible to find a flight on such short notice, especially when you were on a budget.

Another two hours later, as Jungkook began to wake up from his nap, you figured it was a good time to change into a more appropriate outfit for the wedding – you’d worn a grey tracksuit for the train ride – so you grabbed your overnight bag and headed to the bathroom.

At this point in your journey, you’d nearly forgotten the unsuccessful conversation that you’d had about his ex, and you were surprised to realise that not knowing the whole truth didn’t bother you much. The gentle rocking of the train was soothing—calming, even. And the idea that you’d see your old friends soon felt exciting, too.

There were many other things you could have focused on—and you did. Even though some of the distracting thoughts that you had, weren’t, exactly, a better alternative.

Changing in the cramped bathroom of a moving train was about as uncomfortable as one could imagine, but it was nothing you hadn’t done before. And, now that you thought about it, you realised that you and Jungkook had done a lot more in train bathrooms than just changing clothes.

The unexpected memory forced you to bump your head into the sink as you took your sneakers off, and you cursed quietly under your breath.

You weren’t sure why you were remembering this now, but you were alone, thankfully, and had enough time to shake these thoughts out of your head as you slid your sweatpants down your legs and pulled the burgundy, off-the-shoulder dress out of your bag.

The dress had wrinkled a bit, but you had packed a leather jacket just in case—it would certainly divert the attention, considering the huge skull on the back of it.

However, looking at the jacket now, you were forced to remember where you got it. You’d had it for so long, you didn’t think anything when you packed it. But now you could remember Jungkook being there with you the day you first saw it. The two of you had only stopped at the clothing store because it had begun to rain—rain seemed to surround your relationship—and neither of you had an umbrella.

While you were looking for one in the accessory section, Jungkook approached you with this jacket and a big grin.

“You already have one like this,” you had told him then.

“I know,” he’d replied, beaming. “Now we can match.”

The jacket wouldn’t have meant anything if you weren’t on this train now. It would have just been a jacket—like any other piece of clothing that you’d worn before you broke up—if you weren’t going to Paris with him. If you weren’t remembering all of these useless moments in your life; meaningless, really, until your heart rate picked up.

Mumbling a few more curses, you put on the only heels you’d packed for the tour. They were far too chunky to go with the dress, but they seemed to go with the jacket—and you didn’t have any alternatives anyway. You had planned the outfit before you could plan the mess of thoughts in your head.

Another ten minutes later, you finally exited the bathroom and saw that there was already a small queue outside. Apologizing—and blaming the dumbfounded looks on people’s faces on your hair; you could tell it was everywhere, but not anywhere it needed to be—you jogged back towards your compartment, sighing in relief when you slid the door closed.

When you turned around, Jungkook was watching you with slightly parted lips.

You could tell he recognised the jacket.

“Shut up,” you said right away, unsure if he was going to tease you about it or mock the fact that you were dressed up for a festival rather than a wedding. “I didn’t bring enough clothes. And I know my hair looks like it’s moving to Argentina to start an independent—”

“No,” he cut you off with enough force to surprise himself, and then stuttered his way through something that was supposed to be a sentence, “it, uh—it looks—it’s—you’re, uh—it’s great. It’s fine.”

You snorted as you looked for a hairbrush in your backpack. “It’s great and it’s fine. Thanks.”

“I meant—” he began, but then gave up. He couldn’t look at you in this dress with the jacket that he got you, breathe, think of what to say, and actually speak at the same time. That was four things and he could barely stop doing the first one. “I should—I’m going to go change, too.”

“Sure,” you muttered distractedly, finally finding the hairbrush and the pocket mirror that you were looking for—but missing the way Jungkook looked back at you as he walked away.

The only time he stopped glancing back at you was when he nearly tumbled into a snack trolley and, once he walked around it, you were already out of his field of vision.

He needed cold water first and foremost, because for a good minute there, it seemed as though there was no way around the fact that Sid had been right. He did still have feelings for you.

Sure, he constantly flirted with you outright since you began to work together, but, he did that to fluster you. To annoy you. And, of course, he still thought you were beautiful to the point where his knees felt wobbly when he was in the same room with you sometimes, and his breath got caught in his throat if you looked at him for longer than a minute.

He was a professional, not a blind idiot.

But he liked to think that this was a physical attraction. Momentary reminiscences of your past relationship. He was grateful for these memories sometimes when he was writing songs (although less so when he tried to fall asleep), but he couldn’t have real, actual feelings for you. It’s been four years.

This was just the dress—it was the same colour as the skirt you’d worn on your third date, when you went to get fast food and he accidentally dropped an open packet of ketchup on you. You’d laughed and told him it was fine; you couldn’t see the stain anyway. You’d joked that that was why you’d worn this skirt—because you knew what a klutz he was.

Or maybe it was your hair—it looked like the same mess as it had when he rented out a convertible for your first anniversary and took you for a ride. It was early September, and he had thought it would be nice and warm, but within the first five minutes, both of your mouths were full of bugs, and you couldn’t hear a word the other one was saying through the sound of the wind. He had to pull over on the side of the road. The two of you needed a good minute to stop laughing at how ridiculous you looked before you could clean yourselves, because you had dinner reservations at a restaurant in town in an hour—he could still feel the softness of your hair as he untangled it with his fingers.

Or maybe it was the way you were completely unaware of this—like the first time he took you to meet his parents and you’d hyperventilated the whole bus ride to their house. You were nineteen, much too young for something as serious as meeting each other’s families, but he was completely calm. You’d asked him what would happen if his parents hated you. What about his grandma? His aunts and uncles? His cousins? His brother? Jungkook lived with an abundance of close and more distant relatives—what if they opposed the relationship? What if they told you to leave?

He’d never told you, but every time his grandmother had a better day, she still asked him about you.

Or maybe it was just you—like the first time he saw you at the Freshman Orientation in university. You’d been discussing Howl’s Moving Castle with someone with such intensity that he could see the fire in your eyes from across the room. He found out you’d seen every Studio Ghibli film before he even met you. And he fell in love with your eyes when you spoke about the things you loved before he said one word to you. He’d never believed in love at first sight, and not until years later, did he realise how utterly stupid it was not to believe in something that had happened to him, and kept happening every time he saw you, until, finally—almost a whole year later—he gathered enough courage to approach you and tell you that he liked My Neighbor Totoro, too.

Shit, shit, shit.

Shit.

When Jungkook returned to your compartment about fifteen minutes later, you were the one who needed a second to get yourself together.

He was wearing a black dress shirt under a black suit jacket with glossy, vertical stripes, embroidered with glittery beads that caught the sun rays and—as usual—reflected them right in your eyes when you looked up at him. Black suit pants and Oxford platform shoes finished his outfit—ironically, fit for both, a wedding and a funeral.

“Nice jacket,” you said, purposefully looking away and busying yourself with your backpack even though there was nothing useful in it for you now. “Tour wardrobe?”

“No, actually, this one’s mine,” he replied, looking down at his clothes. “I’d never worn it before. Very Prince. Didn’t think I could pull it off.”

“Hmm,” you glanced at him again, then looked back at your belongings—this was the only way you could remain coherent enough. “You’re pulling it off well.”

“Thanks,” he replied with a small smile as he took his seat in front of you.

You’d endured nearly fourteen hours of travel time – one hour left until Paris – and, unbelievably, this was the first time that this trip got awkward: right now – with the two of you sitting in front of each other, in your wedding guest outfits, not knowing what to do with your eyes or your bodies or your minds.

You weren’t sure what your role was anymore. You weren’t, technically, on tour with him right now, so you could hardly call yourself his manager here—if anything, you were breaking the rules that a manager should have enforced.

You supposed you could have called him a friend. He was the one person you knew the longest—he knew things about you that no one else did.

But, at the end of the day, he was also your ex-boyfriend. And, suddenly, four years didn’t seem that long ago as your relationship came rushing back at you with full force.

A little over three years together—exactly one-thousand, one-hundred and eighty days; the last eighty had seemed never-ending back then, as your relationship began to wither—and now you were trying your hardest to pretend like you didn’t feel the dangerously strong, almost magnetic pull towards each other.

You hoped this was just the air in Paris. Things would go back to the way they were once you joined the rest of the band on tour in Berlin.

Jungkook knew this wasn’t the air and it wasn’t just Paris. But he thought he could pretend it was.

chapter title credits: bad omens, “take me first”

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[btsmosphere]

Supercharged | JJK

Chapter 13: One Of Us

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🗲summary: It starts with a blow to the chest that changes your life. When your city’s most celebrated hero pays a visit, it turns out the noble Bolt has no trouble tossing lives aside. Lives that won't be missed. Lives like yours. Seven mysterious and powerful men give you another chance – one that starts to feel more like a curse the moment you meet golden boy Jungkook. The boy who wants you as far from his brothers as he can get you. Is it you he hates, or the blue lightning that now runs through your veins? And could it be his golden light that illuminates your heart when darkness threatens? 🗲this chapter: Jungkook doesn’t seem to be angry for the reasons you expected.

🗲pairing: jungkook x female reader 🗲word count: 5.7k 🗲genre: angst, action, eventual fluff, enemies to lovers, slow burn, superheroes/villains au, found family 🗲rating: pg15 🗲warnings: violence with superpowers, swearing, injuries, blood, more guilt and self-doubt, past parental death

a/n: something about jungkook skidding a 180 to stop his bike and just running into the storm.... yeah🥵

A faint knock disturbed Jungkook.

Half-standing from where he had been sat rigid on his bed, he found himself facing Jimin. The other man peeped sheepishly around the door, head dipped apologetically.

Although Jungkook didn’t want to scare his hyung, it was impossible to shake the tension from his frame. The venomous exchange with you still ran hot through his veins. He did feel somewhat responsible for dispelling the group with his foul mood when he had returned upstairs. Maybe they had gathered up and saw fit to invite him again?

It was probably what he needed, even if he didn’t feel particularly sociable right now – so long as you weren’t there. He could do without a reminder…

“Have you seen Y/N?”

Eyes snapping back to Jimin, Jungkook’s brows twitched irritably.

“No,” he shot, incredulous.

At Jimin’s slight wince, Jungkook did feel a bit guilty and swallowed away some of his attitude.

“Okay, I didn’t think so…”

Still, Jimin hovered there biting his lip instead of leaving. He took a breath and eyed Jungkook carefully again.

“But you guys… spoke, right?” Jungkook’s brow raised. That was a generous way to put it. Jimin pressed on, “where did she go after?”

Jungkook straightened up fully.

“I don’t know…” he blinked, confused, frown rapidly clearing to be replaced with apprehension. “Why?”

Jimin’s hand curled tighter around the door. He dropped his eyes before speaking.

“We just… can’t find her right now.”

Jungkook’s face screwed up, uncomprehending.

“What do you mean you can’t find her?”

“Yah, Jimin-ah,” a call stole both men’s attention.

Stepping further into Jungkook’s room, Jimin made way for Yoongi to stride in. The older man stopped, looking to Jungkook.

“Do you know where she is?”

“No!”

Yoongi breathed out steadily, then turned to Jimin. Dipping his chin, his next tone was quieter, making Jungkook strain to catch it.

“The training rooms are clear. Jin’s lab, too.”

Huffing quietly, Jimin shifted on restless feet. Suddenly looking up, he decided to keep questioning Jungkook.

“What did you guys even talk about? What did you say to her?”

Jungkook’s head was spinning. Had you seriously gone missing? Would you have left? He thought his heart dropped enough at the notion that he could have driven you out with his words-

Until the next thought crossed his mind with terrifying clarity.

Oh. Oh.

“Shit.”

All eyes snapped to Jungkook, who stared ahead without seeing. For a moment, they held their breath with him.

Then he blinked rapidly, shutting his gaping mouth.

“She’s gone after him.”

It was Jimin and Yoongi’s turn to gape.

“What?” Jimin shook his head, blinking.

“She’s really not here?” Jungkook reiterated.

Yoongi shook his head.

Jungkook’s only response was a decisive step forwards, walking between the others, who backed out of his way, startled.

“She’s gone after Monsoon?” Jimin echoed as he passed, his voice a hollow whisper.

Equally horrified, Yoongi stared at Jungkook.

“Is she mental?”

Jungkook cocked his head but didn’t stop, only looking over his shoulder in the doorway.

“You hadn’t noticed?”

Carving a beeline through the space, Jungkook drew the eyes of the rest of the group that stood nervously around the space. Even Namjoon was there. Hobi was still looking around, as if he might find you under one of the sofa cushions if he just looked hard enough.

Scurrying after him, Jimin offered an explanation after Jungkook stayed stubbornly quiet.

“He says she’s run off to… to Monsoon.”

Namjoon’s head snapped around to Jungkook.

“She told you that?”

“You think she would tell any of us if that was her plan?” Jungkook retorted, without looking around. He was bending down to observe something below the counter.

“What-? she wouldn’t,” Jin insisted.

“Then why are there keys missing?” Jungkook straightened up.

Namjoon cursed.

“She’s walking to her death,” he then muttered, marching to the door, “we need to find her. Now.”

And so it was all action for the second time that day.

Jungkook was close behind his leader, already swinging a set of keys from his fingers. Tugging a hand roughly through his hair, his feet flew down the steps to the garage.

“And where are we meant to look?” Jin asked, rushing to catch up.

Pausing in the entrance, Namjoon locked eyes with Jungkook.

“Wherever we might find Monsoon.”

Jungkook gave a single nod.

“Alright. Hope, Jimin, with me,” Namjoon jabbed his thumb towards a car and they were off.

Jin peeled away with V and Yoongi while Jungkook forced his legs not to break into a sprint. He hot-footed it to his bike, threw a leg over and was away before any of the others.

Whizzing into the night, rain whipped about his face. Speeding through the buffeting wind forced his mind outwards, on squinting through the storm and not on you. Wherever you had got to. He prayed he wasn't right – but picturing the way you had never quit when he fought you, how you had recklessly trained even at the risk of losing control of your powers… he couldn’t see another explanation for your disappearance.

He couldn’t explain the certainty he felt about it. Didn’t want to.

So he urged his bike faster, the engine roaring below him the only comfort as it ate up the road between you.

The radio crackled through the storm, the others coordinating their destinations. Needless to say, you would be somewhere along the docks, but that didn’t narrow it down much. Jin was heading north, the others central.

Jungkook never responded, his original intentions unchanged.

At the first opportunity, he turned towards the river. He ditched his bike right at the end of the docks, where the concrete became earth banks again. Hardly caring to park it, he only left it upright by sheer luck as he took off running the moment the engine cut.

The storm was thicker here, rain slicing his vision. Blundering on, frustration knotted tighter within him at each stretch of empty paving. Dark shapes loomed, but each was just a piece of machinery, or another container dotted about between the floodlighting.

His heart jolted dangerously at a sound from the radio.

“We’re definitely on the right track,” Namjoon spoke, “the car’s here.”

Somehow that didn’t make Jungkook feel any better. An abandoned car, an abandoned dockyard… where were you?

One more look back, just in case, before he rounded the next large container, impatient eyes roving the desolate scene. It was as he stepped into the light on the other side that a rogue wave was thrown against the bank some way ahead. The slap of water and fountain of spray drew his eyes. Flecks caught the floodlight and rained back to earth in a shower of gold, before the wave was beaten back by the same wind that coaxed it up.

A gust pushed damp hair into Jungkook’s eyes. He brushed it back, eyes fixed on the same spot.

Where the river retreated, something remained.

Heart plummeting like a stone, his vision tunnelled, only seeing the path to you.

His feet moved before his thoughts. Racing towards the body slumped on the ground. No, no, no…

Then, movement. Slowly, you brought your elbows up, palms pushing you from the ground. One hand stayed there, steadying, as you clumsily got your legs below you.

Standing with trepidation, you hardly had time to look around before Jungkook was on you.

He ran to you without slowing, grabbed you, his rough hands finding your arms, wide eyes scanning you intensely. One hand held you steady, but the other shifted instantly to your face.

“Have you lost your mind?!”

Breathless, you simply stared at the man in front of you. No answer found its way to your lips even when his eyes flicked up to meet yours. They burned, but not in a way you were used to. Fear and disbelief blazed brightest in his gaze.

The fingertips at your jaw shook. His thumb hovered on your cheekbone, where blood wept from the cut, diluted in spots by the rain.

His gaze swooped back down to eye it, thumb finally making careful contact with your cold skin. Next, he found the gash above your eye. His jaw tightened, but his severe grip eased to a something gentler at your shoulder.

After the last hellish moments, it felt all too good to be held within his hands.

Meeting your eyes again, he suddenly blinked. Pulled back minutely, as if startled.

As mild mortification took over his features, his touch lightened on your arm, but didn’t disappear. His hand lifted from your face, and for a moment he stared in horror at the bloodied digits.

Then he dropped it, looking sharply back up at you.

Before he could make his last ditch effort to save face and step back completely, he felt you sag into his hand. With the shock of your most blatant injuries wearing off, he tuned into the way you shivered, out of breath, and cradled one arm closer to you.

“What the hell were you thinking-? What did he do to you?”

Jungkook’s heated tone wore off halfway through the questions.

Giving in, he stepped closer, raising a hesitant arm on your other side. Still breathing a little too fast, you latched onto it without a thought, grasping his elbow to lean on, panting.

Even through your exhaustion, cold shame permeated you. You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I couldn’t get it back,” you admitted.

Jungkook frowned down at you incredulously, even though you didn’t see.

“And you’re insane for trying,” he muttered, already twisting to scan the area you found yourselves in.

Releasing the hand on your shoulder but keeping the arm which bore your weight, he steered you both towards the nearest shipping container.

“We’re going home, alright?”

It hardly sounded like a question.

More wobbly on your feet than you were ready to admit, you followed without protest despite your confusion. Jungkook should be throwing you to the curb! This was your second failure of the day. Your whiplash only increased when you stopped in the relative shelter of a container and Jungkook shook one arm from his jacket.

The river had chilled you, but it wasn’t only the temperature difference that burned when his hand touched yours. He eased your fingers from him for a moment, just long enough to slip off his other sleeve.

It was only then that he hesitated, glancing at the jacket in his hand, and then at you, a little shaken.

He didn’t look you in the eyes as he slung it around you at last. But his pretence at concentrating on fixing it around your shoulders was disrupted at a hiss from you.

You bit your lip, but it was too late. Jungkook pulled back, eyes zeroing in on the slash through your sodden top, hanging away from the bloody cut beneath. Then to the wrist you hurriedly shielded with your other hand.

“Hey,” he murmured, “let me see.”

Before you could convince yourself to object, tentative fingertips were gingerly sliding up your waterlogged sleeve to reveal the deep bruising there, patterned by the sole of Monsoon's boot.

Pure worry filled Jungkook's eyes and he gulped. It was too much for you to look at.

“Thank you,” you murmured, tugging at the heavenly warm jacket and ignoring the sting.

Jungkook nodded absently.

“We’ll wait here… Do you need to sit down?”

Neither of you were meeting the other’s eyes. You chewed your cheek. As much as you wished you could stand strong and prove to Jungkook that you had any respectability left, your legs were not on the same page.

You sank to the ground, grip on Jungkook slipping away. Your frozen hands retreated to the warmth inside his jacket instead.

Only letting his eyes linger on you for a moment, Jungkook forced his gaze to the churning river as he finally remembered his radio. It was hopeless really; he only got as far as lifting the device to his mouth before his eyes were back on you. You were too static, hunched into yourself. The only movement was the creeping of droplets from your hair down his jacket.

This was not what you were. Quiet and surrender were not things that went together with the girl he knew.

Had he done this?

“Hey, hyungs–” so lost in thought, he surprised himself when he spoke “–I found her.”

The response was instant.

“Thank fu-”

“Hey, you really got her?”

“Where are you guys?”

Quickly sending over the location, Jungkook eyed you again. You hadn’t reacted to anything going on around you.

“Hey, I think she needs to go back in the car,” he added quietly.

He pocketed his radio. Then instantly regretted it. Now he was at a loss for what to do with his hands, and he hesitated between staying standing or sitting beside you. Opting for the latter, he purposely tore his eyes from you to lessen the effect.

Stiffening as he lowered himself to your side, you glanced over at him. The floodlighting looked gold on his cheeks, his skin glowing with the sheen of rain coating his face. It only made you feel duller in comparison.

Unable to resist the insistent feeling of your eyes on him, Jungkook finally glanced back.

You sucked in a breath, shoulders raising. Your gaze was all too nervous, watching him warily. And though you were clearly soaked to the bone, he wasn’t sure all the water on your face was from the river and not your own eyes.

The strength of your remorse removed all words you could have used to express it.

I’m so sorry… You sounded pathetic even in your head. Was there anything you could say to Jungkook to make what you had done better?

The warmth of him beside you was already more than you deserved.

Jungkook’s hands were sandwiched between his knees, carefully leaving a space between the two of you. But the longer he looked, his limbs acted almost by themselves. He pinched his lip between his teeth, but didn’t falter. Pulling one hand free, he crossed the no-man’s land. Towards the blood he couldn’t bear to see there, where it cascaded into your eye, one drop outlining your jaw.

The back of his fingers drew closer. When they met your cheek, running steadily upwards to wipe the bleeding, you could have cried. Holding your breath, you gave in and closed your eyes. It shouldn’t feel so… intimate, but the drag of his hand was too visceral to ignore.

Light behind your eyelids made you snap them open again. And then squint.

Blaring headlights swung around, illuminating your momentary hiding spot.

Jungkook’s warmth retreated, leaving you with only the heat of your own blood spilling over your face.

Straightening up, you heard an engine cut out and doors slam. You were still struggling up from the floor when the guys reached you.

“Are you okay?” Hope was the first to ask.

Then Jimin’s hand was on your shoulder. Namjoon emerged behind them.

“Glad we found you,” he said.

Blinking uselessly at each of them gathering around you, your throat was totally uncooperative. You parted your lips, but gave up just as Jin completed your group. Looking you up and down, he tried to ease the tension with a chuckle.

“Wow, you look like you came from the river!” he joked, until his face fell a second later. “…wait- did you-?”

All you could do was stare, too distracted to answer him. What were they all doing here? After what you had done, they came after you?

You should have hated it. You were sorely ashamed, bowing your head under the weight of their concern. But somewhere deep down, you weren’t surprised. Back there in the river, you had dared to hope they would come for you, like they always did. Like you would for them.

But you felt incredibly small for having to count on them nonetheless.

Unconsciously, your feet took you a step back, closer to Jungkook. Shrinking away from the overwhelming tide of emotions you weren’t prepared to face yet.

“I think we all just want to get home,” Jimin smiled softly.

Namjoon nodded, the first to turn away, lessening the glare of the spotlight you felt on you in the centre.

“Yoongi’s going to take the other car,” he said.

Good – you had completely forgotten you had driven here at all. Everything was a blur between your consecutive fights with Jungkook and Monsoon.

Just as you were beginning to debate which one had stung more, a soft hand in yours tugged you from your mind again. Looking up, you found V quietly pulling you along towards a car. He didn’t meet your eyes. Your throat felt tight again at such a simple act guiding you when you needed it.

Blindly following your friend, you glanced back once more. Jungkook’s eyes were already on you, unreadable.

“See you back home.”

Then he dipped his head, slipping past you into the storm.

Your tired body had clearly clocked out on the drive home, finally able to sink into yourself in the silence of the car. You had to admit you felt a bit bad for Jin, who loved to talk. Being stuck in a car with you while you were practically too ashamed to speak, and V who was always quiet, must have made it a long journey.

He got a few words out of you. Honestly, you felt obliged to answer his questions. You owed him – owed them all – some honesty.

If you had to say anything unprompted, though, you were sure all you would muster up was repeated apologies. You felt the heat of them frenetic beneath your skin. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

When you arrived, pulling in just after the other cars, only Jungkook still to follow on his bike, you realised just how drained you were. Each step felt like a balancing act as you climbed the stairs, like your legs weren’t quite attached to you.

“So you remembered Monsoon’s base just from seeing the maps way back?” Jin carried on the conversation you hardly registered having, “no wonder Kuyang had you as his secretary. Too bad, we’ve got you now!”

Those words cracked through your distracted haze. As he left you with a pat on the back, you stared after him.

Had he not seen what had happened all day? A treacherous glimmer of hope sparked in you, as if they could still want you on the team. He must be pretending.

“Any dinner requests?” Yoongi asked from the table.

“Uh, um, I don’t mind,” you spoke quietly, “anything is good… thanks.”

Stopping in front of a chair, you never sat. The lot of them filled up the house like always, thankfully not all staring at you, but the appreciation you normally felt for the buzz of people only made you feel far away right now.

Eyes darting to your feet, you noticed the water clinging to your shoes, miniature pools left in your footsteps. Everyone was damp from the rain, but you were a different story. Your clothes clung uncomfortably, and you were suddenly aware of the constricting fabric now it pressed against your skin like this.

“I’ll just… go clean up,” you muttered, finally taking the chance to flee from the people you had wronged. The people who shouldn’t have cared enough to come pick you up from a death wish of an escapade in the middle of a storm.

Falling against the bathroom door at last, you put up with the soggy clothing for a moment longer, needing a pause. Head resting back against the wood, you breathed. Closed your eyes, felt your hands shaking.

Then you pushed away. A spurt of energy had you ridding yourself of your clothes in a hurry, tugging free of the fabric weighted down with cursed water.

Hurling them into the bathtub, you grabbed a towel next and sunk into it. The soft fabric felt like a dream, from somewhere warm where you hadn’t made such a terrible mistake.

When you pulled away, it was bloodstained.

Shoulders drooping, you continued to dry yourself without looking at it. Nor did you want to look at yourself in the mirror. Somehow, you would have to attempt a fix for the wounds you had just acquired, which pulled and stung as you twisted to dry your back. Gritting your teeth, you kept at it. You didn’t really know what you should do, and were mainly counting on your powers to heal them up fast, but you weren’t about to trouble any of the others for help. They had done enough.

You turned next to a stack of dry clothes.

It was as a sweater dropped over your eyes that someone knocked.

The sound wasn’t soft. Only hesitating for a moment, you gave in and found the person on the other side just as decisive as his knock.

Jungkook stood with his arms folded. Expectant.

Your poked your head out, looked at him warily.

He had enough of your waiting and tugged his arms free, pulling the door open and marching inside.

The breath caught in your chest as you backed up, bracing yourself. He would be right to chew you out right now. He had been right earlier too, you saw that now-

“We could have lost you!”

Your eyes were fixed on him. Couldn’t look away, couldn’t even blink.

You thought you had been prepared, but the fierceness of his tone took even you off-guard. Not to mention the words it was paired with. You hadn’t expected that. But as they sunk in, they brought your heart down with them.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” your voice was quiet, but perfectly clear in the confined space.

His eyes only hardened.

“Don’t talk like that.”

While his eyes pierced you, his tone was less abrasive. If you hadn’t known better, it would almost have sounded like begging.

It even succeeded in making you shut up for a short time. But you forced your jaw to cooperate, breathed in.

“But… but I-” sighing roughly, you dropped your gaze to the side. Glared at yourself in the mirror. “I fucked up. I ruined it, I let Monsoon get what he-”

An abrupt step forwards cut you off. Startled, you looked up to find Jungkook snatching the first aid box from the side and stalking towards you.

“Sit down,” he instructed.

Struck dumb for the second time, you did.

He followed. He knelt down right in front of you, and started unpacking stuff from the medical kit as if this was completely normal. Or perhaps to avoid having to face that it wasn’t.

“I would say you should’ve known he would do a number on you-” Jungkook began, to which you sighed.

“I’m lucky I even made it out alive, I know, I know-”

“Hardly,” Jungkook scoffed, turning back to you with a small cloth in hand, “if it was luck, yours would have run out by now.”

You blinked. And then tried hard to avoid blinking, because he leaned forward to press the wipe above your eye.

You swallowed against the sting. Swallowed harder when his other hand lightly steadied your temple on the opposite side.

“You really think I’m good luck, after today?”

A self-depreciating downward tilt dragged at your lips.

Jungkook, on the other hand, chuckled. It was brief, but it was there, a joyful quirk of his mouth.

“No.”

Your heart shouldn’t have sunk at his agreement.

His eyes flicked to yours, then away again as he focussed on his task. But he surprised you, and spoke again.

“I thought you were good luck before today.”

Though your mouth opened, you found all words had been robbed from you. Now, with your staring, he refused to catch your gaze again.

Resigned to not understanding him at all, you shut your mouth and sat in the silence for another minute. He changed cloths, chucking a now-red one away and moving on to swipe at the stickier blood that lingered on your cheek and jaw.

Somehow, in the peaceful bathroom, with his light touches on your skin, you could finally look over the recent whirlwind of events with clarity. Unfortunately, your embarrassment only burned brighter when you examined it through such a magnifying lens.

Looking hesitantly up at Jungkook as he worked, you cleared your throat.

“How did you find me?”

He spent a second longer, one more long swipe over your cheekbone, before sitting back.

“Because that’s what I would have done. If I wanted to make things right.”

“But I didn’t manage to.”

Jungkook just shrugged.

“That depends. What were you trying to prove?”

“I-I- nothing! I don’t know” – you fell forwards, elbows on knees – “I wanted to get the gun back... that’s what we lost. What you were mad about, before.”

Jungkook didn’t move away, even when you slumped closer. His face looked a little pinched.

“Sure,” he spoke, voice only loud enough to travel the short distance to you, and no further. “But it was also… I was afraid. Because I had started- no, I trusted you. I didn’t want you to throw it back in my face now that I care-”

The end of his sentence snapped into silence like bone china, but the silence after the break was deafening. Reeling from what was thrown. The echoes rang in your skull.

He removed his gaze, staring somewhere to the side.

When you finally recovered your voice your words were simple, quiet.

“I’m sorry.”

Another moment passed. You couldn’t even hear your own breathing. Only saw his chest rise as he inhaled.

Then he levelled you with a gaze. His eyes sharpened as you observed each other.

“What for?”

You swallowed, shoulders sagging, but forced yourself not to look away.

“I’ve broken it. Our trust.”

“You showed me how badly you didn’t want it to break,” he pointed out.

Slowly, your mouth opened, something leaping perilously in your chest. Denying it, you frowned.

“Does that make a difference? I still didn’t fix anything…”

Letting out a breath through his nose, Jungkook dropped his cloth into the first aid bag and folded his arms loosely.

“If you still need to prove it to me, you can tell me why, then. Why you fight.”

His head raised as he cocked his chin up. Face blank, save for the challenging glint of his eye.

Shocked, you straightened up without thinking. Drew your arms back to your sides. This may have been the first time he had given you the chance to explain yourself. The first time he had offered himself to listen.

It took you a moment to gather yourself. Or rather, to wait until you were sure he wasn’t joking. What you had to say was already there, waiting on your tongue.

“I was just a spare… I was in the way, and that was all he needed to dispose of me. And other people… aren’t so lucky. I was given another chance, somehow. I needed to do something with it. I wasn’t part of Bolt’s plot, but that shouldn’t mean I’m not allowed to have my own.”

“You’re right.”

You could only stare, a curious frown shifting your face imperceptibly when Jungkook responded so promptly.

“Other people aren’t so lucky,” he carried on, slower now. His eyes shone under the bathroom lights. “My dad–” his voice unexpectedly gave out on him. His eyes darted down, only for a second, tongue briefly wetting his lips “–my dad was a guard. We didn’t have much money, he didn’t have much choice. So he worked for the first guy who would pay him a steady salary. Then Bolt-”

Horror had well and truly sunk into your bones before Jungkook even had to stop for the second time, choking on the word. Your body felt far away again. All you could see was Jungkook’s face as he staunchly forced his lips into an even line.

“He left the boss alive,” something bitter edged Jungkook’s voice. “He’s in prison. Bolt got his trophy. He has the kind of power that means people will overlook the cost.

“I was thirteen.”

You were stunned. You could only stare at him, lips parted stupidly as what he just told you sunk in. All this time, he had looked at you the way he did because… because you were exactly what he and his dad never got. Not only did you survive Bolt, you then basically became him.

You weren’t Bolt, not by a long shot. Jungkook had made sure of that, all while trying to prove to himself that you were.

But even trying to imagine what he must have thought of you was making your head spin. It would have been easier on him to hate you.

You could hardly breathe, but words were tumbling from your mouth anyway.

“I’m so sorry. Fuck, Jungkook…”

Jungkook was looking at you again. His eyes glistened, yes, but on the surface he held it together, the depth of his sadness flowing beneath.

Bending your head under the weight of understanding, your eyes rested on your hands. Lifting them, you turned them over. The same lightning that ran through your palms had torn his life apart long before Bolt ever turned his sights to you.

You had lived. Why you?

“I’m sorry he never got the chance I did.” Your sentences landed far apart, sparing. What could you say? “It should have been him.”

“I’m glad you got them.”

Time slowed down as Jungkook’s words made impact. You nearly choked on them.

You stared back at him, not breathing. The gaze he returned was level, totally serious. Had you heard him right?

“You’re good, Y/N-”

He dipped his head at last, but didn’t break the eye contact for long. He eyed you as if waiting for you to laugh in his face. Like he couldn’t believe he was saying this, either.

“And you do the right thing. So when you screwed up… I know you never meant for that to happen. You know what went wrong, and you won’t do it again. I know that. So I shouldn’t have-”

Huffing, he looked roughly to one side, jamming a hand into his hair. Glowered into the counter as he kept speaking.

“But it hurt more because it was you. I want you to be with… us. The-the boys all love you a lot, okay? You’re one of us now.”

Jungkook was distracted from his determination to avoid looking at you by a sniffle. You had already pushed the back of your hand against your mouth.

Though you tried for a glare, the awe in it did weaken the effect. You shook your head.

“I hate you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The look that flashed over his face was almost comically hurt.

“I-I thought I was done,” you rambled, “all I want is to be part of this team, I thought I had blown it- and now you’ve made me cry!”

Swiping at the couple of escaped tears with one hand, you jabbed the other one accusingly towards Jungkook. But you only meant a fraction of the venom, and he knew it. His lips tightened the way they did when he tried to suppress a smile.

When he held his hands up as if in surrender, you lowered yours. A watery sigh escaped you.

“You say this now, after you made me think I had to prove it to you all over again-”

Deflating, his stance softened. Dropping his hands, one of them hovered before landing on the closed toilet lid an inch from your knee.

“I never meant that. About you needing to suffer… I know you already have.” He chewed his lip for a moment before something sparked behind his eyes. “But hey, you ran off and did exactly that! I thought your whole point was that you didn’t want to-!”

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help the grin breaking out. Shifting, your leg dislodged Jungkook’s hand. His fingertips stilled where they now found themselves grazing your leg.

“We’re both idiots,” you concluded.

“Hey, don’t tell the others!”

With a breathy laugh, you gratefully felt some weight dissolve from your shoulders. Even after the laughter wore off, you felt yourself smiling faintly at your lap and took the chance to blink back your tears.

One was knocked free, shooting down your cheek-

Only to be intercepted by a finger.

Jungkook froze, hand still on your face, and gulped. A second too late to look natural, he glanced down with a gesturing nod.

“That’ll hurt like a bitch in that cut.”

“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”

The pad of his thumb dragged away the salty water while you tried very hard not to look too hard at anything. Or to close your eyes. Would that be worse?

Then he moved backwards again, reaching for something new. The wound on your cheek was a cleaner cut, easier to deal with. As he wiped it a few times with a fresh gauze, his hand finally placed itself steadily over your knee.

A new kind of silence settled as he pressed two strips over each gash.

“You, um…” he withdrew his hand, “you should rest. And eat. Yeah. Eat, and rest.”

You nodded.

“Yeah, I should.”

Looking over to the door, you dragged your lip between your teeth. In fairness, Jungkook had been your biggest concern. But you had still royally fucked up today. Twice. You had the rest of your group to make it up to.

Maybe braving it sooner would be easiest. As much as you didn’t have the energy for it, they could recharge you. You all gave back to each other in the end.

Sensing your reservation, Jungkook stood.

“Hey,” he called your attention back to him, “they were just worried.”

“I guess they’ll be a piece of cake now, after you,” you couldn’t help smiling, “you’re the most obstinate one, after all.”

As you finished speaking, you followed him to stand, shooting a smirk into his affronted face. It looked as though he couldn’t decide whether to be offended or amused – until all that was erased as you crossed closer to him on your way to the door.

Your expression, too, faded. Your steps fell too sluggishly, but his gravity slowed them without your meaning to. It left you locked in his eyes for too long.

With your breath trapped in your throat, you had no idea how you managed it. Your voice sounded without premeditation, low but clear with your sincerity.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

And then you turned, leaving him trying to recover his own racing heart behind you.

Thank you for reading!!💜💜

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@thesmeraldogirl

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

The Anomaly || JJK

Chapter 12: Right and Wrong

summary : In which you're isekai'd from your (own) parallel Jujutsu Kaisen universe to the canon universe.

wordcount : 2.3k

Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen X Reader, mostly platonic, you're really just part of the story

Masterlist | Next

Sukuna finds himself walking aimlessly along the streets of Shibuya. You're in his arms, your eyes closed, fast asleep. For now, you're breathing, and that's enough. He hopes you hold on. He hopes you're using your technique subconsciously to keep yourself alive.

He's in search of a water source, a big one. A simple tap won't do anymore. He needs something bigger. Preferably a pond or a river. 

The city is dead silent. A result of their Sukuna.

His carbon copy.

Who's sharing a body with Yuuji.

It makes his mind spin. Loads of questions rising to his brain. Why were Yuuji and him one? Why was his carbon copy so set on killing you? What even was going on in Shibuya? Where was that dork Gojo when you need him? Where were his classmates? Will Megumi be alright? He looked pretty roughed up against that wall after all.

Sukuna closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. 

Aimless questions weren't going to solve this.

Thanks to the silence, he can finally hear a stream. Opening his eyes, he walks to the other side of the street, noting that it caves into a passage way for water. It's less clean than he'd like, but it's the only way you'll heal. 

You've healed yourself on a mission in Kyoto before. He'd laid you in a bed of water back then as well, and found out your body will heal in it's subconscious too. You'll simply have to do it again.

He climbs over the fence, carefully sliding down the area, on his knees as he holds your body securely, half of it dipped in the cold water.

He can't help but blame himself that this had happened. Ever since that mission in Kyoto, where you nearly died as well, he swore to himself that he would get stronger.

Your entire life, people had been looking down on you when they were supposed to look up at you. Your clan elders cast you aside, claiming you were a blemish in their clan due to your half foreign roots and your appearance when you were only a child. The rest of the clan had been mean to you, rude to you for a long time. And when you finally developed your cursed technique, they still wouldn't accept you.

Sukuna had seen it all happen. And he hated it. First cast aside for your blood, then cast aside for your cursed technique, whilst also remaining cast aside because the friendships you held outside of the clan.

It didn't make any sense. You're a great, kind person. But all they seemed to want was weapons in the form of people.

He doesn't remember when, but he vividly remembers promising to himself that he'd be there for you. Whatever you need. He'll make sure you'll never have to be alone as long as he's alive. (He once admitted this to Yuuji, a few days back. His twin had laughed at him, and had called him a simp- Sukuna punched him.)

He doesn't realize he's lost in thought until you stir, your reverse curse technique having apparently worked it's magic.

You cough as you slowly get up in his arm, your hand pressing itself against his chest in order to stabilize yourself.

" Kuna'?-"

Sukuna releases a sign of relief, grateful that you're alive. He holds your body the slightest bit tighter, pulling you closer to him.

" You little shit. Finally, I find you, and you just go around nearly dying. Honestly, what were you thinking?"

You smile at his words, his worry concealed poorly in his words.

" I missed you too."

His hold on you is still gentle, and you melt in his warm embrace like you've done countless times before, hugging him to yourself. He relaxes, returning the gesture. Suddenly, you tense again, pulling away from him.

" Where's Yuuji?"

Sukuna raises a brow.

" I didn't know what to do or how to act, I left him to gather his thoughts."

Your eyes widen.

" Kuna! He must feel like a monster when he's innocent, we have to go join him!-"

You're quick to get out of his arms, up the ledge, looking behind you, obviously expecting him to follow.

He raises a brow, though he does follow you.

" Hold up- I have questions. What the fuck just happened? I nearly killed who I thought to be myself and he turned out to be Yuuji. What is that all about?"

You bite your lip. 

Right, you should've expected that question.

" Things are a little odd, different here-"

" What? Tell me everything."

" I was getting there, You impatient nut.- Anyway, among the oddest things here there's Yuuji's situation. In this world, you were a sorcerer a thousand years ago. The most powerful one of all, you were given the name Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses. Your technique is rumored to be slicing. I didn't want to take chances in the fight we just had.."

Sukuna's eyes are wide as he looks blankly at the street in front the two of you, taking in everything you're saying.

He's never been particularly fond of Jujutsu sorcerers. Knowing that he was one in this universe a thousand years ago gives him mixed feelings. Because ew, he was a sorcerer. But also, he was the strongest one around.

You walk closer to him, linking your arm with his while you walk. You've missed walking like this, with him. It was comforting to finally have someone of your own universe again.

" Which is why you resorted to manipulating Yuuji's blood."

You nod in confirmation. You hate doing that.

" Yeah.. Ryomen Sukuna was put in 20 separate cursed objects because they couldn't kill him all those years ago. 20 fingers. Yuuji eats them and inherits his cursed energy that way. I'm not sure how many he's had so far- Either way, Ryomen Sukuna is a lunatic. He wants to kill everyone as far as I'm concerned.."

You fall silent for a moment, judging his reactions.

" What else is different here?"

" Oh. Uhm, I'm not in this universe. Megumi is nice to me and uhh... I'm not sure. That's all I think."

He hums, nodding. For a moment, it's silent between the two of you as you walk. Obviously, he's deep in thought, taking in everything you just shared with him.

" ... What would you do if this happened again?"

You glance at him, raising a brow in question.

" What?"

" When Yuuji turns into me again.... I know what Jujutsu regulations ask."

" I'm not killing him, if that's what you're asking. I don't care what regulations state. And if he ends up killing me... Well, so be it."

Sukuna hums, having expected that answer.

" What about you?"

" ...I don't think I could kill him even if I wanted you. He's my brother. "

You hum, understanding his words.

-

Nanami Kento is alive.

Sort of. 

For now.

He's stepping into the metro station, his thoughts completely elsewhere.

He's always wanted to go to Malaysia. Build a cabin, spend the rest of his life away on a beach, in a cottage he might even build himself, reading away the many books he had gotten, but never had a chance to read, leaving them lying around.

Kuantan would be perfect.

Perhaps he'd invite you over.

Kamo Y/N.

Curious person. Curious cursed technique.

He couldn't help but wonder, was your cursed technique meant for killing? It was much too beautiful for that, in his opinion. He's seen you use your reverse cursed technique. 

The world of Jujutsu isn't meant for you, or is it? Perhaps, you too belong on a beach, surrounded like the ocean. For some silly reason he can't explain, he feels like he knows you. Perhaps your time in his universe was meddling memories from his other life into his own, the one in your universe. He can swear he's been to places with you. That you've hung out together, like friends. 

He has questions he wants to ask you. Questions about your cursed technique. Questions about your world. Questions about the him you might know. Questions about what things are like in your universe. He hasn't even gotten the chance to ask you anything yet.

However, he's tired. Exhausted even. 

At this point, he's just aimlessly ripping through curses left and right.

Meanwhile, you and Sukuna find yourselves entering the metro station from another side.

" You hear that?" 

You raise a brow at your best friend. 

" Hear what?" 

" Oh right.-" 

Sukuna tends to forget that his heavenly pact increases his senses.

" There's a fight going on, a few meters in front of us.- How much cursed energy do you have left?" 

" Uhm, barely anything. " 

" How much reverse cursed energy?" 

" More than enough to survive." 

He nods, glancing around, he spots bathrooms, his eyes widen at the opportunity.

" Y/N, come." 

He's tugging you along towards the bathrooms before you can resist, heading straight towards the men's restrooms.

" Woah, hold up. Ain't no way I'm going in there. I'm a woman!" 

" Y/N, no one's in here. let's just fill up your water skins and go. That way you can still make use of your last bits of cursed energy." 

Ignoring your complaints, he successfully tugs you in the men's restrooms. The two of you are quick to fill up your water reserves. Soon enough, to ones on your hip are full, and the one Sukuna carries with him is full as well.

Soon enough, the two of you continue on your way, only just in time to witness a horrid scene.

" You're here?" 

About twenty meters in front of you, Nanami Kento is stood. Half of his body is completely charred, angry red due to the burns he suffered. Behind him, the patchface curse is stood, it's hand ghosting over his back.

You spot Yuuji's red hood on the other side of the hallway.

" Yup, this whole time. " 

Both you and Sukuna move immediately.

" Kuna'! Don't let it touch you!"

Sukuna doesn't ask you to elaborate. Instead, he takes out his Chain out, the end hidden behind his back as he throws it at the curse. You don't remain still either. Focusing on the last remaining bits of your cursed energy, you focus on Nanami's blood, intending to pull his body away from the curse's touch.

Your heart stops as Nanami sighs, seemingly haven given up on himself already.

Sukuna's heart breaks as he notices the guy he recognizes as his twin brother call out softly for the other man, also rushing to the scene.

Finally, you're in range, Nanami's body swaying as you take control, at the same time, Sukuna's chain wraps around the curse's neck, about to pull him back.

" Itadori, you take it from here."

You're too late. Too slow. Perhaps both.

The curse gets flung to the side, straight into the wall by Sukuna's Chain. Nanami sways your way, but you stare in horror as his body convulses, his blood stream shattering as his skin turns blue, exploding.

For a moment, everyone is silent. Nanami's lower half falls to the floor in front of you, his blood splattering over your body. You stare at it in shock. Sukuna's eyes are wide too. One of the people he looks up to in his own universe, gone. Just like that.

The both of you get shaken out of your thoughts as Yuuji starts screaming.

" What the hell are you, Mahito?!" 

" I can hear you just fine without you yelling at me! Itadori Yuuji!" 

Both Yuuji and Sukuna charge at him.

Sukuna grasps at his belt loops, noticing he's missing something.

Fuck, where did his Inverted Spear of Heaven go? He doesn't linger too long on it. He'll search the streets of Shibuya later. Obviously, Yuuji has beef with this cursed spirit-man-being-thing, which means he has been with it too. Pulling his chain back, he makes way for Yuuji to break through. 

However, the curse throws something Yuuji's way, a small object. It creates a wall, avoiding him from being able to reach the curse.

" Now, who are you two?" 

The curse has turned to both you and Sukuna.

Sukuna's glare sharpens. 

From the corner of his eye, he notices you still completely in shock over what just happened, silent tears streaming over your face as you stare blankly in front of you.

" Y/N, focus. We have to mourn later. We have to kill this thing first." 

You blink, tears had already been streaming down your face, but he's right. You'll have to mourn later. Your expression hardens, and Mahito grins.

" Ah whatever. I want a real fight. You're not important because you don't even have cursed energy. And I don't know you." 

Shrugging, it turns around, focusing it's full attention on Yuuji.

You glance around you, noting the situation, a new kind of stillness overtaking you.

So much blood. So many innocent people who have died at the hands of this cursed spirit.

" Sukuna. Help Yuuji. There's something I have to try." 

Sukuna barely nods, and soon enough, he's closing in on the curse, Mahito, as well.

You turn around, running to opposite direction, deeper into the metro station. Perhaps, there are still people left to save,

You refuse to let Nanami Kento's death be in vain.

| Bonus Chapter: Nanami Kento

The Anomaly Taglist:

@luxylucylou @kalulakunundrum @strxbxrrylover @aethersslave @jenniferrvsesi @hanatsuki-hime @betizda

[papersirens]

(If ur still doing the alphabet!) Can I get e and j for the chosito?

i am i am ur all good romy my love!!! (they just want choso bcos i got confused lmao)

Emotion (What emotions do they try to hide?)

I think choso tries to hide most of his emotions especially because he feels a little self conscious about how deeply he feels if that makes sense? like he feels things HARD; love, anger, happiness, sadness, arousal.

you've gotta coax it out of him, reassure him that him being so excited he picks you up and spins you is perfectly fine sometimes and he doesn't need to almost drop you when he realises and become practically a robot as a result lmao and that its okay to cry too!! (the other curses when he was hanging around them bullied him a little)

the ones he tries to really hide the most are the negative ones like anger, sadness, jealousy etc. because he doesn't like seeing you upset either, he only likes you being happy so he tends to push those down and he does a really good job of it sometimes. of course he gets angry and shit at points but he absolutely hates doing it in front of you and tries his best to remain neutral and internalise it.

Jealous (What makes them feel jealous of others?)

if literally anyone but yuuji talks to you HAHAHKJGFD

he's not a super jealous man or at least he tries not to be, but he definitely gets this big bubble in his stomach and an ache in his chest whenever someone attractive is talking to you. (in an au) it's typically perpetuated by sukuna being a shit and winding choso up, telling him that guys especially would be all over you in a heartbeat and it can most definitely happen that you get whisked away from under his nose. choso only truly trusts you and yuuji (and sukuna apparently) but he doesn't trust random people who might manipulate you into doing something.

he gets cute when hes jealous too because he absolutely inserts himself into the conversation (and with the advice of sukuna, will almost hump you right then and there to assert dominance)

send me letters and a character from this angst alphabet (jjk, csm, kny, itto)

[cyllres]

Devil | JJK x Makima! Reader

Chapter 26

"I've organized the reports from our sources on recent unnatural deaths and disappearances," Kento said, pointing at the map plastered on the board. "This should help us narrow down the culprit's hideout."

“Aw yeah! Are we storming in?” Yuuji asked, enthusiasm evident in his voice.

“No, this is just an approximation. I'll continue to investigate this matter, but I'd like you two to handle a different task,” Kento said, glancing at the two of you before pinning a photo of a boy on the board. “This is the boy who was at the theater, Yoshino Junpei. Apparently, he goes to the same school as the victims.” Kento then clicked on the remote, lighting up the screen beside the board to show CCTV footage. “Based on the surveillance footage and how he carried himself, I believe it’s unlikely he could be a curse user.” Your eyes narrowed as you studied Junpei, who appeared frantic in the footage. “However, if he is related to the victims, that changes things.”

“Curse user?” you asked, your tone curious but with a hint of skepticism.

“A jujutsu sorcerer with evil intent,” Kento replied, placing a hand on his hip. “I've entrusted the process to Ijichi, so I'd like you two to investigate Yoshino Junpei.”

Ijichi and Yuuji both placed a hand on their foreheads in a salute. “Roger!” Yuuji responded eagerly. “Speaking of which, I don’t know any assistants other than you,” he added, looking at Ijichi.

“Well, I’m the only one who knows you’re still alive, so by necessity…” Ijichi trailed off.

“Makes sense! Let’s go!” Yuuji said enthusiastically, opening the door. You followed him, giving Kento and Ijichi a brief nod before leaving the room. You knew Kento already had an idea of the culprit’s location, and while you were intrigued by the curse, you couldn’t risk putting Yuuji in another dangerous situation.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, Yuuji suddenly stopped. “Hold on,” he said, turning back and heading up the stairs again, prompting you to follow.

“Nanami-sensei,” Yuuji said enthusiastically, gently pushing Ijichi, who was by the door.

“Yuuji-?” Ijichi said, regaining his balance.

“I forgot to say something.” Yuuji smiled warmly. “Be careful, okay?” he said to Kento.

“Yuuji-kun,” Nanami started, “I am not a teacher, so please drop the honorifics.”

“How about Nanamin?!” You playfully suggested with a grin as you also lean by the doorway.

“You two want a smacking?” Kento replied, his expression unamused.

-

“There he is,” Ijichi pointed at the boy walking casually. You sat quietly in the back seat beside Yuuji, looking disinterested while Yuuji intently watched Junpei.

Junpei was a thin young man with black eyes and shoulder-length black hair. His bangs, parted to the side, covered the right side of his face.

“Huh? He's not in uniform?” Yuuji asked, curiosity evident in his voice.

“It looks like he hasn't attended school for some time,” Ijichi replied, continuing to drive as he followed the boy.

“The same could be said for me,” Yuuji remarked, then glanced at you. “How are the others doing?”

A brief flashback of Panda spinning you around while Toge stood ready to catch you played in your mind. It was one of the reasons you preferred missions over training—you were bored, and missions felt more purposeful. Plus who does not hate being thrown away? Nobara might feel betrayed by your absence, but you didn't really care.

“Kugisaki-san and Fushiguro-san are doing well,” you answered. “Sugar too; he’s being taken care of by them.” Your tone softened a bit when you mentioned the dog. Yuuji gave you a brief smile before turning back to Ijichi.

“So, what are we gonna do?” Yuuji asked, shifting his attention.

“We’ll use that,” Ijichi said, referring to the caged cursed spirits on the passenger seat. “It's a fly head. A low-level curse that doesn't even qualify as fourth grade. When there's no one around, we’ll have it attack him.”

“Attack?!” Yuuji exclaimed, surprised.

“One: if he is a normal person who can't perceive curses, please rescue him,” Ijichi explained. “Two: if he can perceive it but has no means to fight back, again, please rescue him. Three: if he exorcises the fly head with jujutsu, we’ll restrain him immediately.” Ijichi adjusted his glasses, his expression serious.

“By force?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, by force. It’s fine if it turns out to be a misunderstanding. We can apologize later. However, Four: if he's potentially as strong as a grade 2 sorcerer, Y/n-san would restrain him while we retreat and meet back up with Mr. Nanami.”

“Huh, why should we leave Y/n alone?” Yuuji asked, worry evident in his voice as he glanced at you.

“An assistant would immediately be called to her side for an ‘emergency mission.’ Y/n-san has already been graded as a special grade after that mission and is taking first grade to special grade-tier missions,” Ijichi explained, prompting Yuuji to look at you with amazement.

“Really? Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked but quickly deadpanned, placing air quotes. “It's because you didn’t ask,” he bantered, making you laugh a bit.

“We're walking from here,” Ijichi announced as he parked the car. The three of you got out and silently followed Junpei while Yuuji held a small curse spirit with wings in a cage covered with talismans.

-

Yuuji and Ijichi exchanged a quick glance and mumbled something under their breath.

"You two are ridiculous," you sighed, leaning casually against a nearby post. Despite your comment, they ignored you and positioned themselves to open the cage.

“WAIT—” Yuuji tried to warn Ijichi as he noticed another person approaching, but it was too late—the curse was already gone. “Crap!” Yuuji sprang into action, chasing after the Flyhead while you watched him with a mix of amusement and disinterest. Noticing Junpei make a hand sign, signaling a cursed technique, you shifted from your relaxed stance and ran after Yuuji, eyes narrowing with interest.

“STOP!” Yuuji yelled at the small curse, now holding it firmly. Junpei and the older man he was speaking with turned to look at him in confusion. “Ow! Dammit!” Yuuji groaned as he collided with a pole. Instinctively, you stepped forward, placing yourself between Yuuji and the strangers, your gaze locked onto Junpei with a penetrating intensity.

Junpei flinched slightly under your scrutiny, but quickly masked his discomfort, accustomed to the disdainful looks people often gave him.

"Are you alright?" you asked Yuuji, your tone softening for a moment.

“Thank goodness,” Yuuji muttered, rubbing his head.

“What, is he a gymnast?” the older man asked, bewildered. You glanced at them, but before you could respond, Yuuji took a step forward, his focus entirely on Junpei.

“Hey, I've got some questions for you,” Yuuji said, ignoring the older man completely. “Would you come with me?”

“Hey, can’t you see I’m talking to him? How rude!” the man grumbled, reaching to grab Yuuji, but you swiftly intervened, your hand clamping down on his arm.

“Excuse us,” you said, your voice firm as your eyes locked onto his with a cold glare. The man shuddered, but before he could react further, your expression shifted into a polite smile. “He’s an old friend of ours. We’d like some time alone to talk about something important.” Your tone was sweet, but the underlying threat was unmistakable.

“Huh? Important? What do you kids know? And what’s with that—” The man’s rant was abruptly cut off when Yuuji suddenly yanked down his pants, revealing a pair of bright red striped shorts. His face turned beet red.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, YOU LITTLE SHIT?!” the man screamed, desperately trying to pull his pants back up while Yuuji tugged at them. You deadpanned as Junpei watched in bewilderment. “Stop! Please stop!” the man pleaded, but Yuuji didn’t relent, running off with the man’s pants as the latter tripped over himself.

“Please don’t run off with them!” the man yelled, but Yuuji had already disappeared around the corner, leaving the man to chase after him in a frantic sprint.

“What the fuck just happened?” Junpei deadpanned, still processing the chaotic scene. You merely shrugged, turning your attention back to him.

"Who are you?" you asked, your polite smile back in place. Despite the friendliness in your tone, something about your smile unsettled Junpei, like it was a mask hiding something far more dangerous. “I’m Itadori Y/n, but you can call me Y/n.” You stepped closer to him, your eyes subtly analyzing him.

You hummed thoughtfully. ‘His cursed energy is low, just slightly above a normal human’s, but still not strong enough to perform a significant cursed technique,’ you mused, recalling the incident at the movie theater. Junpei swallowed hard, sensing your scrutiny.

“Yoshino—” Junpei began, but he was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. Both of you turned to see Yuuji walking up, surprisingly calm.

“Okay, now, let’s go!” Yuuji said, as if nothing had happened.

“Huh, that was fast!” Junpei remarked, genuinely impressed. “Did you go around the block!?”

Yuuji nodded. “You didn’t have to go through all that,” Junpei added. “You both could’ve just dragged me away.”

“Well, we could still do that,” you quipped with a smile that made Junpei shiver. “But you hate that guy, don’t you?” you added, glancing in the direction the man had run off. “He smells like a scummy person.”

“How do you…?” Junpei started, confused by your accuracy.

“Just a hunch,” you replied, smiling sweetly as you turned back to him.

“You don’t want someone you hate hanging around your house, right?” Yuuji asked. “Let’s head over there for now.”

Junpei hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Sure,” he agreed, following the two of you.

-

As you sat at the edge of the river, you couldn't help but giggle at the sight before you. To others, you might have looked like an ordinary girl, simply amused by the way the light danced on the water, but your focus was entirely on Pochita. The curse, in his canine form, was splashing around, trying to catch fish with a determination that made you smile. With a triumphant bark, Pochita finally snagged a fish and, in a playful gesture, tossed it toward you. You quickly dodged, laughing even harder as the fish landed with a wet slap on the solid ground. Pochita rushed to the shore, teeth bared as he tried to bite into the fish's head, his antics making you laugh even more.

“Stop, stop seriously,” you giggled, waving your hand to dismiss Pochita before he drew too much attention.

A few steps behind you, your brother Yuuji and Junpei were deep in conversation. Yuuji's voice, tinged with frustration, cut through the peaceful atmosphere as he gripped both his phone and a small curse he held. “Forget it! I'll just ask him!” Yuuji exclaimed, turning to face Junpei.

Dusting off your pants, you stood and approached the two boys, catching the tail end of their conversation. “Listen, some people died at the theater you went to the other day,” Yuuji began, his tone serious. “Did you happen to see anything? Something creepy like this, maybe?” He raised his hand, showing the curse to Junpei.

Junpei hesitated before answering, “No, I didn't. I've only recently started seeing those clearly.”

Yuuji nodded thoughtfully. “I see. Well, I've got nothing else to ask then!” he said, his tone shifting back to its usual enthusiasm as he quickly exorcised the curse.

Junpei blinked in surprise. “Huh? That's it?” he asked, glancing at Yuuji who had now plopped down next to him on the stairs.

“Could you still wait until our boss, sort of, shows up?” Yuuji requested, his eyes earnest. You joined them, sitting beside your brother.

“Hey, what were you watching at the movie theater?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh yeah! Me and N/n-chan love watching movies! Even the bad ones,” Yuuji chimed in, grinning at you as you nodded in agreement. “Have you ever watched something so bad it turned out to be good?” he asked, his enthusiasm contagious.

Junpei, a bit more at ease now, shrugged and answered, “I was watching a repeat screening of an old movie. You two probably wouldn't know about it.”

“Come on, tell us!” Yuuji encouraged, leaning in closer.

After a brief pause, Junpei finally admitted, “... Earthworm 3.”

Both you and Yuuji groaned in unison. “That one was super boring!” you couldn't help but blurt out, and Yuuji nodded emphatically.

Despite your reaction, Junpei found himself relieved. It was strange, but for once, he felt like he was just a regular teenager having a normal conversation. No judgment, no fear, just simple, human interaction.

“I got hit so many times over that,” Yuuji murmured, rubbing his cheek as if the memory still stung.

“Honestly, it was. But it was just a splatter film, after all,” Junpei agreed, his voice a little lighter. “Maybe we never should've expected anything from it. But part two—”

“But part two was pretty good, wasn't it?” Yuuji cut in enthusiastically, with you nodding in agreement.

“Yeah! Exactly!” Junpei said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “It really had some redeemable qualities!”

As the conversation flowed, you suddenly felt something off. A familiar presence tugged at the edge of your senses, its aura dark and twisted, like a shadow of someone you once knew. You breathed deeply, trying to pinpoint its location, but it was elusive, almost as if it was intentionally toying with you.

‘It smells like Geto, but it’s so rotten,’ you thought, a wave of unease washing over you. Your hand instinctively moved to your mouth as you suppressed the urge to summon Pochita, your breath hitching slightly.

“N/n? N/n-chan? Y/n?” Yuuji’s concerned voice broke through your thoughts. You looked up at him, forcing a reassuring smile.

“Yuuji, I’m calling Yasu-san over to pick me up. I feel a bit sick in the stomach. Please get home safely,” you said, your voice calm despite the turmoil inside. You turned to Junpei. “Yoshino-kun, take care of my brother, okay?”

“Yasu-san?” Yuuji asked, his eyes filled with worry and confusion.

“He’s one of the managers I know. Don’t worry, he’s reliable. I know he’s either at his dorm or doing college stuff, whatever,” you reassured him as you stood up. Without waiting for a response, you hurried up the stairs, following the ominous presence. But instead of contacting Yasu, your fingers dialed a different number—Satoru Gojo.

Cursing under your breath, you realized the signal was too weak to get through. Frustration mounted as you broke into a run, your footsteps echoing against the concrete walls.

Rounding a corner, you collided with a black-haired woman. “Oh, sorry!” you apologized hastily, not even sparing her a glance as you continued your pursuit of the elusive presence. The woman's eyes followed you as you disappeared into the distance.

-

“Gojo-sensei,” you called out as your breath finally caught up with you. The moment you heard the familiar tone on the other end, you didn’t wait for pleasantries.

“Getou-sensei… he’s dead, isn’t he?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly, betraying the calm exterior you tried to maintain. There was a brief pause on the other end, the silence almost deafening before Satoru responded.

“Yes,” he confirmed, his voice steady, leaving no room for doubt.

“Then… why—why do I still smell him?” you pressed, your heart pounding faster with each step you took. The city around you blurred as you pushed yourself to move faster, your stamina dwindling but the fear driving you forward.

“Where are you, Y/n?” Satoru’s tone shifted, urgency creeping into his voice.

“Kawasaki, I think… somewhere around here,” you admitted, glancing around the unfamiliar streets as they sped past.

“Y/n, listen to me carefully. Send me your location right now. I’ll have Nanami come pick you up. Whatever you see, don’t do anything drastic,” Satoru instructed, his words firm yet laced with concern.

You bit your lip, feeling a swell of frustration. Ignoring his instructions, you ended the call and tucked your phone away. There wasn’t time for backup. The presence was growing stronger, closer, pulling you toward it like a magnet. You found a nearby sewer grate and quickly descended into the damp, echoing tunnels below. The stench was overwhelming, but all you could focus on was the sickly, familiar scent that made your skin crawl.

You summoned Pochita, the little curse barking in acknowledgment before darting down one of the tunnels, his small form vanishing into the shadows. Your steps slowed as the unease grew. Each echo of your footfall felt like a countdown, the fear gnawing at your resolve. It was as though knowing who—or what—was at the end of this tunnel would kill you, but not knowing would be worse.

Your legs gave out, the weight of dread pressing down until you were forced to crawl. You reached the corner and cautiously peeked out from behind a post, your breath catching in your throat at the sight before you.

A man stood there, hooded, his back turned to you. He was tall, his presence commanding, almost suffocating. Your heart hammered in your chest as you silently summoned a pistol into your hand, your cursed energy barely flickering to life. It was weak, so weak, but it was enough to draw the attention of the man and the cursed spirit beside him.

“Fuck,” you whispered under your breath, gripping the pistol tighter as the man turned slightly, revealing more of his face. He whistled, and from the rubble nearby, a curse emerged, its laughter grating and chilling.

“Just like I thought, that sorcerer is nuts!” the cursed spirit cackled. It had a human-like appearance, with a patchwork face stitched together in a grotesque imitation of life. Long, grayish-blue hair fell past its neck, tied into three large sections. Its entire body bore the same stitches, making it look like a puppet sewn together from mismatched parts.

“You guys went all out,” the man remarked, his voice familiar yet twisted, sending a cold shiver down your spine. You gulped, trying to make sense of what you were seeing. It seemed like him, but not him…

“Getou! Lemme borrow your clothes!” the curse demanded, its tone mocking as it glanced over at the man. Your pulse quickened as the man finally turned around to face you. His eyes, once warm, now seemed devoid of that softness, replaced by something darker, more sinister.

“Getou-sensei?” you called out, your voice eerily calm, though panic clawed at your insides. The man—Getou—smirked, his expression almost amused.

“Oh my, interesting,” he mused, his gaze settling on you. Your breath hitched as you took in his appearance. He looked exactly like the last time you saw him, but something was off—horribly off. Stitches ran across his scalp, and his skin was an unnatural shade, pale and lifeless. It was him, and yet it wasn’t.

“Y/n-chan, long time no see,” ‘Getou’ greeted you, his voice the same as you remembered, but the warmth and familiarity you once knew was almost too fake. It was like hearing a ghost speak.

Your hands shook as you raised the pistol slightly. “Who… who are you?” you demanded, your voice wavering as you stared at the man who wore Getou’s face like a mask, the man who couldn’t possibly be him.

-

Kape?: https://ko-fi.com/cyllres

[the-quiet-blogger]

"The Giggle"

You know it's been a while since I've gone truly absolutely batshit over a Doctor Who episode, but here we are. Spoilers, obviously, under the cut.

First of all: UNIT

While I'm not a huge fan of The Doctor working for/with Earth-based Space police, I think it's a great idea to have the companions in a safe environment where they have a place to use all of the knowledge they've gathered during their journey throughout the starts. They get paid to continue doing what they love and while it does set things up to have future (LIVING) companions to make little cameos (or even an option for a spin-off series, I think that it's ultimately a good choice that RTD decided to let the companions have a space where they can live, grow, and continue to help.

One problem I have with this is that this is exactly where Martha and Mickey went at the end of 10's run -- and yet absolutely 0 (zero) mention of them or their whereabouts. They're the OG companions joining UNIT, so where TF are they??

Also this guy?? The Vlinx?? I both love and hated that we didn't get much explanation for this Guy in the Chair. Just "Oh you're helping?! Sure! Absolutely no reason to think that this new alien and the weird thing that's happening are related ANYWAYS--"

A bit like Panda from JJK where it's just "yeah and this is Vlinx, it works here, moving on,"

LOVE the jab about antivaxxers using the narrative of the Zeedex. It DOES help, but since you're asking the masses (who all wholeheartedly believe that they are right and everyone else is wrong) to put this on, it becomes a bit harder -- we saw how Kate reacted the moment she willfully put it on. Also return of our #Queen for her role as the News Anchor. Glad she has a name now.

Secondly: Donna <3 my absolute beloved. She has grown so fucking much. From yelling at the world because that's the only way to be heard to quietly asking The Doctor what is wrong. She has grown into her own woman, though of course still missing a lot of main action before the metacrisis was resolved (I could write a whole other deep dive about that episode too). When she noticed that the laughter was notes -- "The Giggle" hiding behind the screen, I was so proud of her. This is why the Doctor needs an "every day" human -- and Donna is so blunt that she won't hold back on her observations, though I have to wonder if the whole recorder conversation with Rose was how she came out. I hope so, that's just so chaotic.

I've seen some people argue that there is still some TimeLord in her because of how smart she's been in these last few episodes.

To that I say

"bitch, do you not remember the bees disappearing???"

Donna Noble is a genius and an idiot. Both can exist in the same person, in the same character, and that's exactly what they proved with the previous episode.

and SPEAKING OF her being a genius

She loves The Doctor, not romantically, but in a "platonic soulmate" kind of way that makes my heart full. When she realized that The Doctor never mentioned Mel or any of their adventures, she pointed it out. Not only that, she told The Doctor point-blank that there's always something that the Time Lord seems to be running from. There's never really been a moment when he's stopped and talked about any of the shit that he's been through and she can tell that it's starting to wear on him.

"Maybe that's why your old face came back. You're wearing yourself out"

and he immediately changes the subject and charges forward despite her telling him a harsh truth. She's travelling with him again, sure, but it was supposed to be some short little trip and I think the main reason she went with him in the first place (whether or not she will admit it) is because she saw her friend in crisis and wanted to be around to help -- to figure out what exactly he needed from her. With each episode, she's tried to guess why his old face came back, but nothing stuck.

The fucking puppet show.

Now, I feel like this is a great way to catch up new fans with any old Doctor trauma that they may have missed. It was also a way to shove it into The Doctor's face just how many of his loved ones that he was responsible for killing.

Now, before I hear any one say "but what about ______??"

Rory wasn't as close to The Doctor as Amy had been. "The first face this face saw" and while they did become closer later on, he would always have a special place in his heart for Amy. He watched her die for fucks sake.

Martha wasn't mentioned because as far as he knows, she's still alive and kicking ass. That's part of the reason he will up and abandon certain companions, so he doesn't get them hurt.

The Fam - left behind and alive. Remember 2/3 of the original Fam chose to step away from the TARDIS and Yaz was left before 13 could regenerate as she "needed to do this on [her] own". While, yes, I'm sure the Doctor feels guilty about leaving them behind, it's not nearly as bad as getting them killed.

Anyone else had either survived as far as The Doctor was aware, or hadn't been as close as those particular companions. That is why those 3 were chosen.

Now, back to the puppet show

Mentioning not only the lost companions but also the Flux

God I do not have the time to go into this half-assed recreation of a tragedy trying to be as big and bad as the Time War and Gallifrey. I feel like Chris Chibnall felt snubbed with a female presenting Doctor and gave us the most half-written mediocre bull shit he could have. RTD is already having to fix it with mentioning it several times and exactly what happened in the aftermath. Just looking up "Doctor Who Flux" you get so many results that all try to "explain" it.

If your audience has to look up how your writing makes sense, you aren't smarter or cleverer than the masses, it's just shit writing.

However,

While the actual Flux episodes and following regeneration made it hard to understand not only what happened, RTD breaks it down.

There was a terrible decision to be made. The universe was dying. The Doctor had to choose and a lot of deaths now lay on the Time Lord's shoulders.

BUT! That was also the only piece of The Doctor's trauma that couldn't be waved away with

Which is when The Doctor challenged the Toymaker to a game.

Back too 2023, we get...quite honestly one of the best scenes I've seen in New Who, only rivalled by Here Come the Drums with the Master dancing along. No, Rasputin doesn't come close to this cunty rendition of Spice Up Your Life.

Amazing, cunty, terrifying, entertianing, and fun.

"I think they're still falling" -- BITCH?!?!?! Ugh. I want more of the Toymaker. What a fun villain and Neil Patrick Harris knocked it out of the goddamn park. No matter what you thought about this episode, this dance routine was a highlight.

I also love the reference to when The Doctor had tried to reason with The Master, asking to go amongst the stars with fun filled adventures, taking on the burden of being their jailer and caretaker for the rest of eternity if it meant that humanity was safe.

Of course, we all know what comes after the Toymaker refuses the call to the stars.

I immediately started crying. Before The Doctor even started with those last words, I wasn't ready to say goodbye. We went from "I don't want to go" to "allons-y". From him dying alone in his TARDIS to being immediately surrounded by loved ones

"He's not dying alone"

And he didn't have to.

I choked on my crying so hard I almost died myself. I know David Tennant had always said that he thought The Doctor was asexual to some degree, but this is just ridiculous. /pos

But, when you consider the salt line at the edge of the universe and how that myth became a reality because of The Doctor's actions -- the fact that bigeneration was once a myth and now a reality suddenly opens up a whole door of possibilities for this upcoming season with Ncuti Gawa.

Now, The Doctor(s)

14 was consistently surprised in their actions, their off-the-hand comments. Something that 10 always struggled with was saying how much people meant to them.

And one thing about 14, they are filled with love. They openly say "I love ____" whereas 10 never did.

"Rose Tyler, I--"

Having to leave those he loved behind, never wanting to admit when he cared more than he did. As long as he spun and ran away from his feelings, they could never catch up to him. Right?

14 is different, always saying "I'm here", "You're okay" and slinging around the word "love" as if they would never grow tired of it. 14, obviously, is The Doctor after Amy, Clara, Billie, and the Fam. After avoiding a family with the Ponds, losing Clara after realizing they were toxic for her, a friend who never expected anything more from them, and Yaz's fam who only wanted to be a safe space for them to be able to turn to. Yaz, the last companion that was pushed away by The Doctor, had loved them and told them so and gotten nothing in return.

And there were so many different ways that 14 showed this love. So many hugs!! So many reassurances!! And so much love that The Doctor was sharing amongst everyone who could hear them -- and yet not a drop of that love or compassion showed inwards.

I am so emotional about this hug, it's not even funny. Literally healing their younger self. The love, the understanding, the "I'm here" -- finally someone who understands literally everything 14 has gone through. The acceptance of the hug (THE TUCK INTO THE NECK?!?!?FSKFBWILDNLADN) I fell to my knees!!!!! SOBBING!!!!!!!!

BUT!!! Not only is 15 born on the battlefield, but also born surrounded by love and fun. Pants or not, 15 is ready to save the world and make it a good time for those around them. Self assured, fun, smiling, and loving-- 15 jumps into the world with a confused hug and love for their past & current self. After years of therapy, I keep hearing some of the same phrases along the lines of "you have to look to your past/younger self and let them know that it's okay, that they shouldn't have had to go through all of that alone" and this was exactly that, only on a Time Lord scale.

Now, personally, I had fun watching the game of catch with the Toymaker after 15 was introduced. I thought it was a fun way to share the spotlight with Gawa as the 15th Doctor and let the audience know some hints as to what we have to look forward to.

The terms of endearment melted my little heart. I'm always a sucker for a good nickname, both in real life and in fiction and 15 was full of them.

"Honey, sweetie, pumpkin pie, you are too traumatized to be flying the TARDIS right now, get OUT and take a NAP"

That was basically what was said, right?

And then this...home. The Doctor having a family. This is quite honestly the perfect, happiest ending that The Doctor wearing this particular face could have had. All those years running away, fighting hard, and keeping on a strong face, and this is what that was for. All that running and avoiding, and love for everyone else but themself and now they finally can take a break and focus on taking time to say "what the hell". Maybe go to therapy. There's so much fic potential for this as well, the kinds of companions they could run into casually or little every day struggles that are literally alien to them.

I've seen a lot of posts upset that this plot point seemed to be circling around two points: 1) this a repeat of the metacrisis ending and 2) not the first time The Doctor had domestic bliss.

To that, I say:

the metacrisis Doctor was half human and would be able to grow old with Rose in that parallel universe. It was also the traumatic ending of the DoctorDonna (or so we thought) and on that beach, the Doctor, the Time Lord Doctor, still couldn't say how much Rose meant to him. He also said that living life, day after day, was the one thing that he could never have.

2. On Tranzalore, The Doctor was not resting. He was taking care of the tear in the universe and defending it from the monsters that would constantly be on the attack. Every day was a fight. And when he spent those 24 years with River Song, he knew that this was the last time they would meet before her end. How can you relax when you know that these are the last moments you're going to have with your loved one. You watched them die and this is the best that you can do with them in their last days, knowing that you can't stop death from coming.

And there is something so incredibly healing about The Doctor allowing themselves to stay here, with only occasional trips to the Moon with their favorite niece. and the possibility of them perhaps becoming a Curator -- who knows!!

And now we have Ncuti Gawa's 15th Doctor to look forward to and all of time and space!! I am so incredibly excited to see where this takes us on Christmas.

[yuujiheart]

I have sukuna haters keep blaming sukuna for the fight as if the problem wasn't the opposite side aka too much Yuta worship or irrelevant characters like Miguel and Larue, or the Kusakabe glaze (why would I like this guy who did nothing to help in Shibuya when apparently he was this strong?), people had all those different fights without Sukuna during Culling games and they hated it anyway, suspecting they were fans of certain character. Luckily gege is rich enough to focus on a sukuna spin off whenever he wants

Sukuna haters(gojo fans) ehh!!.. I do remember the discourse around it tho...it was actually funny and annoying too to see them whining like a child just because their fav wasn't there.... They just wanted him to die quickly.. Since he killed gojo and sukuna using binding vows and his quick thinking to get out of tricky situations had them literally crying .. It was so funny...

These type of fans would always cry..like what were you expecting from a battle shounen.. It's hard to take them seriously as their world revolves around one character.. But things got so much better once gojo was out of the picture.. Especially after 238..

I personally think it was because of breaks it felt tiring at times.. Like for me it was breaks and the absence of yuji that made things difficult... Otherwise jjk's fights are of short duration usually except yuji and gojo's in shinjuku raid arc... The same goes for culling games.. .. But it can get boring with little to no lore especially when we are reading it weekly.

Not a fan of kusakabe and miguel larue but them being there was necessary so that yuji and others can regain their strength through rct...

But I loved it as a sukuna fan and as I love jjk fights and how the power system works . Like in vol 28 gege explained how sukuna learned to use air as a surface like gojo and toji maki ( they can do it thanks to them being gifted) but still does it better than them . It makes me feel so excited that he literally is a jujutsu need and absorbs info like a sponge...and I suspect his ct is something similar like mei mei and that would explain his efficient uses of binding vows as he must have played with that concept many times in order to perfect considering he uses it frequently in manga.

Oh I had my suspicions tbh that he might do it but inclusion of that shrine maiden girl and his self reflection in last chap confirmed it for me that we gonna get something on the heian era.. And it convinced me that simply knowing that he was unwanted is not enough we need to know more about him... And it seems to me gege is also interested since I can think of no other reason for doing something like this in the last chap of manga....

[the-chronicles-of-a-bookworm]

I posted 567 times in 2022

That's 566 more posts than 2021!

45 posts created (8%)

522 posts reblogged (92%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@so-scarlet-it-was-maroon

@vespersposts

@that-was-a-bit-stupid-of-you

@asunflowerana

@colorseeingchick

I tagged 250 of my posts in 2022

#hannah's dairy entry - 36 posts

#kuroko no basket - 31 posts

#jjk - 30 posts

#knb - 29 posts

#jujutsu kaisen - 24 posts

#hannah talks - 17 posts

#akashi seijuro - 14 posts

#tumblr games - 13 posts

#aomine daiki - 13 posts

#nanami kento - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 108 characters

#that balcony opposite my building with millions of different kinds of flowers basically filling up the place

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

ask: aloha, im new, an i was wondering uh..why dont you like JK rowling if she made harry putter *potter (sorry it doeint *doesint* let me backspace) but you like harry potter? sorry i dont mean to be rude or offend im actually really curious and would love to know <3 (if u dont wanna anzer *answer tat is fine lol) (IM SO SORRY FOR THE MISSSPELLS)

Hi! Firstly, welcome to my blog and the spelling mistakes are totally fine, I've faced them before. 😁😁 Now, I support the LGBTQ+ community and believe that someone's sexuality or gender does not matter in society. I was exposed to the terms 'gay' and 'lesbian' at a young age, and my parents explained them to me. However, they told me that homosexuality is a 'disgusting' act. I did not want to believe them, though. I always thought that if a boy liked another boy, or if a girl liked another girl, it was totally fine. It's like in fairytales, it's true love. Except, there are two princesses/princes. J.K. Rowling is, in very short words, a TERF. Why? It started on Twitter where JKR 'accidentally liked' a transphobic tweet. The tweet was something about trans men being 'men in dresses'. People all around the world started throwing hate comments at JKR saying things like "You are Voldemort" and stuff like that. Why people did not get a reply to the hate comments was because JKR stayed off of Twitter, as she says on her website. J.K. Rowling liked another post, yet again, on Twitter, which caused another outbreak of hate comments. But soon, JKR started to openly show her support for a person called Maya Forstater, a British tax advisor who wasn't renewed because of her transphobic posts. On her website, she lists the reasons why she is worried about trans activism, or something and you can check it out here.

I hope this did not bore you to death 😐, but, I needed to show just how much I do not support JKR. (I thought a long answer would show that.)

22 notes - Posted June 25, 2022

#4

Imagine you’re at a party. You’re single. However, three guys you like are present. (They’re also hopelessly in love with you.) The games are:

Spin the bottle (kiss)

7 minutes in heaven (make-out)

truth or dare (oral)

You’re forced to participate in all three games. The games are rigged by your and his friends. Each game is a different guy. Pretend you have a choice. Gojo, Aomine, and Kento which act of sin?

Nonnie! I absolutely LOVED this question!! Okie, let's get started.

Nanami Kento - Truth or Dare. I choose him for this cause I think he'll be really understanding and wouldn't tease me too much about an embarrassing answer. And for dares, I don't think he'll make me do something to make me uncomfortable. dare me to kiss you pls .

I just found out that truth or dare is oral. Like, the, THE oral. and since my blog is SFW, i'm not going in detail. But my answer remains the same. People above 18 years of age probably understood what I meant by THE oral.

Gojo Satoru - 7 minutes in heaven. I honestly couldn't choose between this and Spin the Bottle. I chose 7 minutes in heaven cause I think he'll be much more experienced in this kind of stuff, you know. Sure, I'll have to endure some of his teasing but the reward i'm getting is good enough to make up for it.

Aomine Daiki - Spin the Bottle! For a boy who spends his whole life playing basketball, I don't think he has any experience being in relationships. I actually wanted him for 7 minutes in heaven, but most of that 7 minutes will just be one kiss and us being blushing, stuttering idiots. So yeah, spin the bottle.

This was really cute and I LOVED answering this. To be honest, I wanted all three of them for all the three *ahem* activities. But, that is not possible.

33 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

#3

Aomine Daiki x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend, Aomine, was away for a practise match between some other school. You, however, wanted cuddles. Pairing: Aomine Daiki x GN! Reader Warnings: None, just fluff Words: 538 a/n: I started writing this at 2:20 p.m. This is supposed to be gn!reader but I visualized a fem!reader when writing this. This is proofread but please give feedback. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It’s cold.”, you whispered to yourself, silently hoping that Aomine could somehow hear you. Maybe the wind can carry your whispers to him. It was snowing slightly. Not enough for a blizzard or anything. Just little specks of white on the roads and pavements. As if the wind had sent your message to your boyfriend, you heard the keys jingling and a rough, deep voice calling out “Baby, I’m home!”

You run over to Aomine, jumping up and latching your arms around his neck, giving him soft, quick kisses on his cheek and down to his jaw.

“Daiki! Finally, you’re home. I’ve been waiting for so long and I want to cuddle.”, you whined.

You gave him your pouty face, slowly blinking your eyes and giving your boyfriend more kisses, trailing down his neck. Aomine has still not let you down, enjoying your kisses. After what seemed like eternity, your boyfriend placed you on the ground.

“C’mere baby. We can cuddle here.” Aomine said, guiding your red loveseat.

Aomine laid down first and opened his arms, gesturing you to come and cuddle up next to him.

His eyes drifted to your feet, and he smirked slightly.

“Oh! You’re stealing my socks too, now? Can’t get enough of me babe?”

“Shut up, Daiki.”, you said, slightly slapping his chest, “I missed you, and your socks are big and warm.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.”, he took you arms and started kissing your palm before he pressed his lips onto yours.

Aomine’s kisses varied from soft to passionate and rough. Right now, he was softly kissing you, lightly licking your bottom lip for permission to enter and you happily complied. It spread sparks of pleasure around your body. A euphoric feeling filling you body. Aomine’s lips on yours was the only thing you registered, completely blocking out anything else that was happening around you.

Aomine slowly pulled away, both of you slightly panting. You grinned before whispering his name, repeatedly.

“I love you so much, Daiki. And you’re right, I can never get enough of you”, you whispered.

His fierce blue eyes were oozing with warmth and love as he stared at you.

“I love you too, Y/N.”, Aomine whispered, pecking your lips.

“But I love you more.”, you teased, smirking slightly.

“No, I love you more.”

“In your dreams, Daiki.”

“That should be my line.”

“Huh? I couldn’t hear you.”, you giggled.

Aomine shifted so that he could hover over you and started tickling you. Your giggles and laughs filled the room. Even Aomine started laughing out loud. His warm laugh reached your ears and you giggled more.

“The only one who can love more is me!” you boyfriend said.

“Fine, fine! I surrender! Please stop!” you shouted, still laughing.

Aomine pulled his hand away and returned to your original position. You put your head in the crook of his neck before you felt your eyes slowly drooping.

You gave him a small kiss on his neck before you quiet snores filled the room. The last thing you registered was Aomine hugging you more tightly and a kiss on the back of you head.

(You can ask to be tagged in my posts)

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148 notes - Posted June 18, 2022

#2

Akashi Seijuro x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Akashi Seijuro x Fem!Reader Warnings: my writing, tooth-rotting fluff Word count: 548 a/n: OOC Akashi I think. I am just writing this for myself but I'm just sharing it here for those who are willing to read stupid fics too. U can also request for something if you have anything on ur mind. just check the rules in my blog before requesting something. The ending is also very stupid cause i didn't know what to write. P.S.- I overdid it with the tags. ignore them... if u want to.

You were sitting on Akashi’s lap. One of his arms was wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly whilst the other handheld the book you were reading together, open. As he reached out to turn the page, your quiet voice called out.

“No, don’t turn it yet, I’m not done.”

“Well, how can I ignore your requests, fair maiden?”, your boyfriend said, before putting his hand back in its original place, around your waist.

“So cheesy, Sei. We should read something else other than medieval romance, then.”, you teased.

A warm, deep, velvety chuckle filled the room. Akashi’s hand slithers up your shirt and rests on your stomach.

“You’re right, darling. As much as I love reading, some books influence me. Nevertheless, I’m not taking back what I said before.

You giggled and turned to look at him. He set the book on the side table before turning his attention back to you.

He looks beautiful wearing his reading glasses. It was rectangular and was perched on his nose delicately. Akashi was looking at you from above his glasses. You reached your hand up, and took it off, setting it on the side table, above the book, carefully. Then, brought your face closer to his and lightly brushed your lips on his cheeks.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”, you asked before proceeding to kiss his nose.

“Shouldn’t I say that to you, my love? You’re beautiful.” Akashi teased, pushing a strand of your hair that escaped its hair tie prison, behind your ear.

“Gorgeous” Kiss on the crown of you head.

“Attractive” Kiss on the top of your head.

“Appealing” Kiss on your forehead.

“Alluring” Kiss on the bridge of your nose.

“Bewitching” Kiss on your nose.

“irresistible” Kiss on one of your cheeks.

“heavenly” Kiss on your other cheek.

“pulchritudinous”

Akashi pressed his lips onto your, your cheeks dusted with red from what he said you were. You could feel Akashi smirking against your lips. He won the teasing game, fair and square. Just as he was pulling away, you pecked his lips slightly before pulling back yourself.

“I don’t know how you know all those words, especially the last one. I thought you were telling me that I’m like fruit punch or something. Or fruit pulp. Or studious. Does studious make sense, though? Maybe fruit juice who studies well. A smart fruit juice. A smart fruit! What’s a smart fruit, though? Maybe apples, cause they’re better than doctors.”

You boyfriend let a laugh he has been trying to hold back for so long. His beautiful laugh broke you out of your own thoughts.

“Huh? What happened, babe?”

“Nothing, darling. You were rambling.”

“Well,”, you said, smiling a little, “If it is annoying, I’ll just go.”

“No, no, love! I meant to say that its adorable.”

You laughed before wrapping your arms around his body and snuggling your face into the crook of Akashi’s neck.

“I love you.”

“I know,”, Akashi said softly, “I love you too.”

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271 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

boyfriend! nagi who presses lazy morning kisses to your face whenever he wakes up earlier than you (which is rare) "wake up princess, i want some kisses too y'know"

boyfriend! nagi who relishes in the kisses you press to his cheeks and his cutey patootie nose and his beautiful, closed eyelids and finally a small, barely there, peck to his lips.

boyfriend! nagi, who loves sleeping, but loves you more, so he sacrifices it to come with you to the grocery store at 3:00 in the morning to get that exact same ice cream you asked for before going to sleep.

boyfriend! nagi who loves it when you ramble about your day while massaging hair. "use your nails too baby. love the feelin' of your nails s'much"

boyfriend! nagi who comes with you to see you get your nails done and keeps telling you to get sharper, longer tips cause he loves how it looks on you. "do those long ones you had last week, baby. the ones that feel good when you play with my hair."

boyfriend! nagi who gives you his hoodies to wear before a match. "you can keep this, babe. i have another one anyways."

boyfriend! nagi who loves the good luck kiss you give him before a match and when you wave to him from the stands when during a match.

boyfriend! nagi who loves you so much, that he'll brag to all his friends about you. "yeah, that's my girl. my baby."

this was written for @/garoujo who loves nagi seishiro and blue lock. I barely read 10 chapters of the manga, but I have enough characterization after reading emmie's (@/garoujo) fics. credits to @firefly-graphics for the pretty dividers and @vespersposts who supported me all throughout! you can ask to be tagged through ask or dms.

388 notes - Posted November 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[tojiscrack]

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋: 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑

summary: 18.1k words — you and the rest of your friend group experience all the changes and activities that high school has to offer.

notes: so during the making of this chapter, i put up a poll where i left it up to my little liars (you guys) on what colour the school should be. as much as i absolutely HATED that the majority of you picked blue over red (i'm still salty about it) i'm glad 132 of you actually participated in the vote. now enjoy this monstrosity.

tw: swearing, mention of dicks, mention of suicide in a metaphor, and that's probably it lmao

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

2017-2018 freshman year

"i don't like this."

"nobody cares, porcupine."

the two of you were currently sat in satoru's — correction: mr gojo's — office at school. it was orientation week and both you and megumi had collected your ID cards and your locker numbers. you were yet to receive your timetable for the coming year, but you were certain that they'd hand it to you some time this week, seeing as freshman year officially started in the coming week.

megumi had put up a pretty stubborn front when it came to admiring the larger corridors and the midnight blue lockers littered around the entire school (which was pretty massive, you had to note). you imagined that it would be terribly easy to get lost in, with the corridors no longer as narrow as the ones back in your middle school and with several other buildings attached to the main one in order to make room for specific departments for specific subjects. currently, you found yourself in the science department, satoru's — mr gojo's — expertise, fiddling with the new keys you'd have to take extra care of.

you'd read about jujutsu high all over the internet (and heard quite a lot about it from satoru himself). apparently, he, ieiri, and suguru attended here back in their youth. the pictures you'd seen in his camera roll, and on several polaroids, indicated that it had been a really good time ("the best time of my life," satoru would never fail to remind you). changing schools for the third time had become much easier knowing that you might experience everything that they did. it also didn't hurt that high school lasted for four long years. there were plenty of things you could do to make tons of memories in that time, especially due to the fact that yuji and nobara had both found seats in jujutsu high too.

sato— mr gojo's office was pretty decent. the walls around you were littered with several display boards showcasing a bunch of his students' work and diagrams of subcellular structures. he clearly took pride in his teaching, even if he randomly spurts out that he'd rather have their yearbook pictures up instead. apparently they had been horrendous, but a good laugh all the same. though, you'd hate to think what this man would do after you and megumi left the school. probably put up our identification pictures, you thought with a grimace.

"so," he'd said, leaning back in his spinning chair with a grin, "you nervous?"

as megumi eyed the display boards with a look of concentration you'd only seen on him when he would read the questions presented to him in an exam, you answered cheerfully.

"excited, mainly." you were seated on the chair opposite your future teacher. "but megumi was throwing a fit about it on the way here —"

"i was not," he harshly interrupted you. you did not have to look over your shoulder to tell that he was glaring at the back of your head.

sa— mr gojo paid his reaction no mind, only continued to tease him as though he hadn't spoken at all.

"i can tell! you look kinda roughed up, kid," he said, and you nearly laughed when megumi patted down his haywire hair as if it were a new thing for it to be standing on different ends. mr gojo merely flashed him a toothy smile. "i mean, that picture on your ID card —"

"that wasn't my fault," megumi snapped coldly, fiddling with his lanyard that was falling out of the pocket of his pants. "the lady kept telling me to smile."

you perked up excitedly. "but get this: he told her that is him smiling."

the picture itself was megumi being typical megumi, a bored expression that could very well be mistaken for anger. you'd never let him hear the end of it. mr gojo threw his head back and laughed.

"i'm leaving —"

"okay, okay, we're sorry!" you said hurriedly, sitting up in your chair because slouching meant that you wouldn't be able to turn and face your friend with urgency.

megumi glowered at you, but did not leave. you took that as a win as he came to stand behind you, eyes narrowed at s— mr gojo.

"i hope we get ieiri as our teacher," he grumbled, because apparently, ieiri had also taken a job here to teach.

mr gojo, looking mildly offended, simply laughed his statement off, tilting his head forward to present his weirdly-blue eyes to the two of you behind his sunglasses. you wished someone would get this man brown contacts.

"keep an eye out for your timetables, yeah?" he responded, his tone all too teasing.

you did not mind having mr gojo as a teacher, to be perfectly honest. as annoying as he could be, he was extremely laidback and matched your humour in ways many adults could not. megumi might hate him, but you supposed that it was only because you and mr gojo would team up to make fun of him, no matter the situation. there were, however, instances where you thought megumi didn't actually hate him. not really, at least. but that was a story for another time.

sitting up straight, your back to the head of the chair, you tilted your head slightly. "wait... did you do something so that we'd be the unlucky few to have you as our teacher?"

mr gojo's lips pursed. if it hadn't been for his sunglasses, you supposed that his eyes were probably wide enough to give you a shock wave and send you straight to a hospital bed.

"why would you be unlucky to have me as your teacher?" he demanded, clearly offended.

mr gojo had always put himself on this pedestal where nobody could ever find him anything but endearing. in short, he truly believed that he was above everyone and that if you have a class with him, you should be grateful, if anything.

you barely had time to respond before megumi cut in coldly:

"you'd lose your own head if it wasn't screwed on tight."

mr gojo raised a brow at him, pulling out a small mirror from his desk drawer and holding it up to take long glances at himself. "how could i ever lose such a beautiful thing?"

megumi looked as though he wanted to shatter the mirror and everything else in the room just from louring.

"you keep a mirror in your office?" you questioned, confused.

mr gojo lowered the mirror and frowned. "you don't?"

"millennials," you heard megumi sigh from behind you.

mr gojo tucked the mirror away and fiddled with the framed picture he seemed to have propped up on his desk, its back facing you. since both you and megumi had entered his office, he seemed reluctant to show it to the both of you, storing it away with a cheeky grin you felt meant trouble. even now, he seemed to be taking glances at it and chuckling to himself, as if the two of you were part of an inside joke you had no knowledge of.

with the framed picture now resting on his lap, cleanly out of your sight, he looked up at you, lazily spinning on his chair.

"are you guys taking any extra-curriculars here?" he asked, perhaps the first ever serious question he'd posed to you that day.

"no, not me," you answered truthfully. you actually hadn't even given it a slight bit of thought. "but megumi wants to take football!"

mr gojo beamed. "really?"

megumi nodded. "heard they had a good pitch and everything."

"great coach too," the white haired male added. "the old one left last year. i had to fill in for him till the new one came around. you'll like him."

in saying that, you had expected his gaze to be directed at megumi, who had shown genuine interest in the sport. however, his head had lowered ever so slightly, showing that he was looking at you instead; you, who had shown no interest in taking an extra-curricular, namely football, at all.

"were you on the football team when you were here?" asked megumi, the harsh tone he usually used with mr gojo now lowered and at ease.

mr gojo shot him a lazy grin. "nah, i did basketball."

"so why did you fill in for the football team then?"

"i'm not bad at football," he said calmly, but you already knew that seeing as the annual family football game was usually dominated by either him or toji. but for once, he didn't sound cocky about it either. "i'm really good at it, obviously. i just prefer basketball."

before either of you could respond, the door behind you opened abruptly. annoyance ran through you, swift as an arrow, for the conversation had just begun to get interesting. all three of you peered at the door, watching as a head of a blonde, stern woman popped through the gap, lips pursing at the sight of you and megumi.

"no students allowed in the teacher's lounge, mr gojo," the woman had stated icily.

you decided that whoever this karen was, you didn't like her much. she stirred up old memories of a teacher from kindergarten that you weren't too fond of, and judging by the bored look on megumi's face, you were certain that he also agreed (a rare occurrence, seeing as the two of you were usually on opposing ends of several arguments).

mr gojo didn't look too pleased at the interruption either. already slouching in his chair as it was, he barely sat up straight to respond to her.

"i'm their legal guardian," he sneered, discontent. "and this is my office."

the woman, clearly disoriented, left without another word. you let out a low whistle.

"who was that beauty?" you said, looking back at mr gojo with raised brows.

"i like to call her negative nancy," he said, before standing up and walking around his desk to gesture to the door, ushering you out. "but anyway, you should check out the football pitch! i think the new coach is out there too, it'd be good to introduce yourselves!"

you and megumi made your way over to the door, a sense of delirium washing over you. the one major thing you'd been looking forward to out of everything was the football pitch and the late night games that would take place. due to mai showing you several clips of how rowdy the games could get, you only wished that high school would come sooner in order to experience it all in real time.

as the two of you made your way down to the football pitch, passing several classrooms filled with people listening intently to an adult doing a speech, you spotted tsumiki leading a line of students down to what looked like the school library. you instinctively glanced at megumi.

"she's part of the student council," he reminded you, continuing to walk past the library and then outside the building. "she has to help out with this stuff."

"ooh, maybe i could do that too," you commented determinedly.

megumi looked down at you, monotonous.

"you have to be elected in."

"that's no big deal!"

"no one would vote for you," he said at last, continuing to walk and not stopping even though you had, stumped and stupefied.

"that's rude, porcupine!"

he ignored you, figuring that you'd follow him eventually; you did.

it wasn't long before your constant bickering had lead you to the football pitch in no time... and it was everything you'd imagined and more.

it was like any old football field, but wider, larger, bigger: surrounding the field of grass was the running track that went round in one giant oval. behind you were the seats, benches upon benches that went higher with each step in order to make space for every viewer to sit comfortably. the field itself was adorned with several white lines, each marked with expert precision, ready and prepared for any football game that would take place. on much higher ground, behind the benches, was a wide, dark blue building, with speakers attached to the left, middle, and right sides of the roof. it was also adorned with several massive windows on the front, allowing you to see that the inside also had seats. you squinted your eyes to clear your vision a bit and found that there was a microphone for each chair.

"i was hoping for the school to be red, like the one your mom wanted us to go to," you stated, eyeing the blue on the benches with disgust. 

"i like blue," megumi countered calmly. 

you scowled at him. "no, red is better. who the hell made the decision to decorate it all blue?"

megumi stared off into the distance, breaking the fourth wall and peering at the people who were left the responsibility to make the choice, deadpanned.

until you broke the silence, tugging on the arm of his shirt to grab his attention.

"am i seeing things or is there someone standing over there?" you asked quietly, pointing at the figure standing in the middle of the field, unmoving. 

you and megumi were on the pink track, therefore the distance between the two of you and the mysterious person in the centre of the field was great. you wouldn't be at fault for making a mistake with your presumption.

 "probably the new coach," your stoic friend responded, simultaneously leering at the person. 

upon further inspection, it looked to be a pretty tall man, perhaps tall enough to be at even satoru's height (and satoru was pretty damn tall, which he never let anyone forget).

"let's go," said megumi, turning away to leave the pitch.

you hadn't moved, blinking at him in confusion. 

"you don't want to introduce yourself?" you questioned, addled.

megumi shook his head; you sighed exaggeratedly and pulled him in by his arm. surprisingly, you didn't need to put any extra effort in doing so: megumi put up no fight when you dragged him along.

"don't be so shy, porcupine," you said, your tone teasing because you knew pretty well that he wouldn't like it one bit. hell would freeze over before you ever neglected a single day of annoying him till he snapped. "the emo in you is showing."

"i'll hit you."

"you wouldn't," you sang, and weren't surprised when he didn't argue with you on that. "now c'mon, malakai —"

"you're really testing my patience, mermaid —"

but you'd found no time to start a brawl with him (as you usually would) at his cruel comment. instead, you stopped dead in your tracks, your arms still wrapped around one of megumi's against your torso, but your eyes were no longer focused on him. instead, you were ogling at something in front of you, namely the peculiar being that the two of you had questioned only a few minutes prior. 

you felt megumi's free hand poke at your cheek.

"what's wrong with you—"

"MASAMICHI?" you yelled, uncaring of the fact that your emo friend had flinched at the sudden volume of your voice. 

initially, megumi had thought your cry of the name of your former p.e teacher from middle school was a mistake. after all, there were numerous times in the long years that he'd known you where you were wrong, whether it be in an argument, a factual comment, or even your opinion on something (he held no regard for the fact that an opinion can't actually be wrong, but you were always an exception for him). however, when the figure at the centre of the field became stiff with your call, he had a pressing feeling that today must've been the night of the blue moon or something: you were actually right.

"MASAMICHI YAGA!" you repeated, louder and with less questioning in your voice. 

megumi's arm had become loose in your hold, he slowly took it back, grateful for the distraction. you didn't mind.

the man had finally turned around as you hurriedly dived forward, more excitement in you at the idea that your favourite former teacher (no matter how many times he'd yelled at you) had followed you here! you had to be dreaming, there was no way this was happening.

coach yaga's appearance had changed over the years since you'd first met him. he was still as tall as ever with a muscular frame and tanned skin. though what stuck out to you the most was his hair. where it used to lie flat on his head, barely any to run his hands through, now he was sporting some that were flying up on different ends, short yet spiky. the rest of his head had remained shaved.

the final thing, along with his frame, moustache and goatee combination that had remained the same, was the tired, annoyed, and exasperated expression on his face, as if simply being in your presence was a chore.

"megumi, pinch me," you said once you'd arrived in front of your former teacher, staring up at him in awe.

"gladly," your friend had responded.

from the corner of your eye, you could see his hand flying towards yours — you slapped it away without a second thought or a single glance. 

"of all the high schools you could've gone to," coach yaga sighed, staring down at you as if you were the bane of his existence (you might as well have been), "it's the one i happened to join this year."

"right?" you perked up, thrilled. "isn't that great?"

megumi thought he looked anything but thrilled. he seemed to be questioning his choice in partaking in that long process of application forms and interviews for the job here, clearly. and when megumi caught a glimpse of you, practically buzzing with excitement, it was as if all the memories of your troublesome nature had come flooding back to him in one go. he thought he understood what coach yaga was so distraught about. he thinks he might have even experienced it once or twice.

coach yaga seemed to have come to terms with it, for he let out a long, drawn out sigh and then turned to face megumi with a critical look.

"you been practicing over the summer, fushiguro?" he said, voice gruff and stern. "you once said you wanted to take football properly in high school. you haven't changed your mind, have you?"

"no."

coach yaga regarded him stoically. 

"don't bother turning up to try-outs," he'd said after a few seconds of merely nodding. "you're on the team."

you felt megumi stiffen up beside you, so when you looked up at him, gauging out his expression, you were concerned to see that he'd completely frozen, and not even with a half-smile curling at his lips whenever he was secretly happy about something. megumi's face was morphed into an expression of distress, you might even say that it bordered annoyance. 

you couldn't help but question why: he'd been given a free position on the football team without even having to (as a theatre kid would see it) audition for the part. 

unless he was being righteous again, which always managed to irk you to a certain degree. uncle ogi called him foolish because of it, yet his mother had called him an angel. 

"favouritism!" you accused, pointing at him in shock. "masamichi is doing favouritism!"

"if you don't lower your voice, girl —" your former teacher threatened, raising a fist at you, though you knew it was a completely empty threat.

ah, this was the teacher you remembered. 

"...and it's coach yaga to you, for the millionth time." 

"sorry, but i can't accept that," megumi had intervened (though that probably was not the right word for it, seeing as the topic was centred around him to begin with).

both your heads had turned to face him. it was, perhaps, the first time that you and coach yaga could see eye-to-eye on something: you weren't happy with megumi's refusal to the offer. you couldn't understand it. 

megumi was incredibly good at football. in fact, you had so much faith in him, you were certain that even if he did take part in try-outs, he'd get in without question. you had no doubt about it. so why, you thought in your head, ready to voice it if need be, did he have to go on this whole righteous tangent if the offer could save time for both him and coach yaga?

"what the hell do you mean by that?" snapped coach yaga. "you were on my team last year, different school, but my team nonetheless. you've got a talent, i don't need to see it again to decide. you're on the team, that's final."

"you can decide after i turn up to try-outs," said megumi, clearly unmoving on his view. "it's only fair."

"fair?" sputtered coach yaga, as if he hadn't heard of the word in his entire life. you couldn't blame him, simmering in silence as you watched the interaction between them with irritation. "life's not fair, boy! you're on the team. i saw the line-up for the team last year: inumaki's on it, so you'll have a familiar face to work with."

"that doesn't matter," megumi stubbornly continued. "yuji's coming here too."

"well you can tell him he's on the team too, then," said coach yaga, also stubborn. 

megumi glowered at him. "i'm not doing that —"

"then i will!" you added, pulling out your phone from the pocket of your jeans and hurriedly opening up your texts with yuji. 

you could feel two holes being burned into your left cheek where megumi was glaring daggers at you, but you didn't care. you were happy for him and yuji. it was a moment to be proud of. the two were so good at the sport, that coach yaga felt the need to eliminate them from even trying out for the team, insisting that they were that talented. this, if anything, was something to celebrate. you knew that megumi would probably hold a grudge against coach yaga for the rest of his miserable life, but you were also aware of the fact that your grumpy teacher just simply would not care. so long as he has a winning team in his hands, he could not care less. that, you were grateful for.

in the end, like you had expected, megumi gave in (though not without a word; it was routine for him to complain about something) albeit reluctantly. later that day, when you met up with yuji and nobara, your pink haired friend had been as ecstatic as you, only to feel guilty at the look on megumi's face. one righteous grump was enough, how had he influenced yuji to be the same (minus the being-grumpy part)?

as the week continued to roll on — and you began to question when it was that they'd finally hand you your timetables — all four of you had found yourselves sitting around a table at the school, your first official day as a high schooler, excited...

only to deflate the second you examined megumi's sheet, eyes darting left and right, up and down, just to go on repeat.

"megumi!" you gasped, feeling more disappointed than angry.

the only classes that you shared with megumi, out of the nine that you were in, were chemistry, biology, and math. you didn't even share the same homeroom, and aside from the three mentioned, the only time you would be able to see him again would be during study-hall and lunch, all of which were not nearly long enough to compensate for the time lost with each other.

eyes bulging out of their sockets, when you'd darted them to ogle at your dear friend, you thought he seemed to be thinking the same thing. megumi never usually smiled, so it wasn't a shock when his lips pressed themselves into a thin line, but you could differentiate each and every one of his expressions as if they were your own, and megumi (though he'd never admit it) was not pleased with the arrangement of each of your timetables. 

at all.

"this is all your fault," you said, shaking his timetable aggressively. he snatched it out of your hands with a look of irritation. you let him. "what did you have to go and pick business for?"

he glowered at you. "can you imagine me on stage doing performing arts?"

"of course i can!" you snapped, waving a hand dismissively. "i literally edited you on a stage once, don't you remember —"

"you did?" yuji perked up, to megumi's annoyance. "show it to us!"

"yeah, let's see!" added nobara, extending her arm across the table and making a 'hand it over' motion.

"let's not see," megumi interrupted icily, slapping nobara's hand away with enough force, the sound reverberated around the hall; nobara hadn't taken that lightly either, kicking him under the table with an expression of pain and vexation.

you ignored them all, staring down at his timetable, which you'd swiftly swiped off the table again, with confusion. how was it possible that you only shared three classes with him? it seemed that these classes were based off of the end of year exams from middle school, and megumi was at the top of the class for everything, to no one's surprise. but so were you, except for math. last year, the only reason you passed with flying colours was because of megumi, because even though he'd made rude and judgemental comments when tutoring you, he actually happened to be a very good teacher.

the thought did not compute to you. when you'd compared your timetables with yuji and nobara's, you'd been over the moon at the fact that you shared several classes with them, whether it be individually or as a group. it wasn't mentioned enough (mainly because you were quite careless about it) but you had done just as well as megumi in the exams for every other subject, so why were you in only three classes with him?

clearly you'd committed a terrible crime in your past life to be punished with such a sentence. who else will blame megumi for the funny writing on the board the second everyone enters the class? who, other than you, will frame him for the aeroplanes thrown at that one kid you despised for being so cruel for no apparent reason? who, but you, will provoke him enough to start a dictionary fight from two opposite ends of the classroom simply because his angry face was belly-ache-laughter inducing?

from the looks of it, it seemed that you'd have to pass the torch on to yuji. you did always think he would be your replacement... ever since you first met the annoyance.

"this isn't fair," you sighed.

megumi agreed, shaking his head, monotoned and bored. "yeah it's just not fair."

"anyway, megumi might physically abuse me if i show it to you guys right now," you said, changing the subject begrudgingly, only to smile just as soon as a lightbulb flicked on over your head. "but satoru has a ton of pictures of him from our christmas play back in elementary school!"

you did not have to glance at megumi to know that he was scowling (what was new?). yuji beamed at your statement, eyes sparkling with curiosity that was certainly not mild enough to restrain him from demanding that you send every single one of those images to him.

"did you play baby jesus?" he asked loudly, smiling from ear-to-ear as he awaited megumi's response.

"you're intellectually challenged," your dark haired friend snapped, visibly irked at the way you and nobara laughed at the thought of little megumi, ever the grumpy one, playing baby jesus. "how the hell would anyone play a new born?"

"just... wrap them in a towel or something," yuji suggested, though he sounded less passionate now that megumi had set the record straight. if it wasn't yuji, you might have actually felt bad. 

"so what did you play then?" nobara swiftly questioned. "the shepherds?"

"maybe he played the livestock!" yuji perked up excitedly, turning to you for confirmation. he seemd to have effectively recovered from the disheartening moment of being told he wasn't very clever. "he's always loved animals, right?"

megumi let out an exhale of disbelief. "the hell makes you think i wanted to be one?"

"wouldn't put it past you," scoffed nobara. "didn't you try and stay at the zoo when your family went to visit, like, a decade ago?"

surprised at the prospect of megumi's head remaining in tact with his neck due to how fast he'd snapped it round to face you in apparent annoyance, you did not meet his gaze, resting your chin on your hands held up by the table, still examining his timetable that you hadn't returned.

"why'd you tell her?" he questioned, when it became crystal clear that you had no intention of voicing the elephant in the room. 

"it was supposed to be a secret?" you replied, looking up at him with faux innocence. but megumi knew you, and he knew you very well; well enough to tell that you had done this on purpose. if there was one thing you were an expert in, it was trying your absolute best in annoying, shaming, and angering megumi fushiguro. 

and he hated it.

how it worked, mostly, but he hated it all the same.

"uncle ogi said we couldn't tell anyone," he reminded you, firm and very visibly offended. 

you grinned at him. "what, because of the reputation of the zenin family?" you continued before he could answer. "well guess what, porcupine? i'm not a zenin."

"and neither am i," he stated, the frown on his face deepening with each passing second.

"by name, maybe not. you're literally toji's son —"

"i would've found out anyway," nobara intervened confidently. she twirled a piece of her short hair around her finger mindlessly. "you ended up on national television —"

"national television?" yuji repeated, his voice raising several octaves. you expected him to look a bit more impressed, but your pink-haired friend merely pouted at the three of you. "why am i being segregated? what happened on national tv?"

that particular day had been very hectic. a visit to the zoo with the rest of the family (along with suguru and his two girls, mimiko and nanako), was meant to be how any other family would act, admiring the animals and walking in sync with one another... only for it to turn into absolute chaos when little megumi had ended up in the gorilla enclosure and decided that he wanted to live there.

you never let him live that one down.

"megumi became one with the gorillas —"

"did you tell them about your interest in the aquarium?" he cut through your statement coldly.

your eyes widened, gawking at him in something in between disbelief and complete annoyance. if there was one thing megumi knew embarrassed you (and you don't tend to get embarrassed by much) it was the mermaid lie you'd made years ago. 

"i was interested in the sharks," you explained, growing more and more agitated with the way megumi's face became more and more dismissive, as if you were lying. "they were scary but i liked it —"

"makes sense," he interrupted again, "they're a danger to your species."

you could see yuji laughing; the knife lodged itself deep in your heart. you could see nobara holding hers in; you felt the knife twist in its place.

the irritating part of it all was the fact that your dark-haired, cruel friend deserved credit for that one. it was good, and if it hadn't been directed at you, you might have even voiced how impressed you were.

"okay i'll give you that one," you said, turning away with your nose in the air. "it was good, you got me there. but only this time, porcupine."

you hoped and prayed that yuji and nobara would forget this moment: it happened to be the only time your constant teasing came back to bite you right in the ass. you wondered to yourself how many times the four of you could sit like this together, pester megumi because it happened to be something you, yuji and nobara all had in common, a habit you did not believe would ever break for as long as you lived on this great, green earth. from the looks of your timetables, there weren't many classes where the four of you would be in altogether, only a the three that had been previously mentioned: chemistry with ieiri (who you'll now have to refer to as miss shoko), biology with satoru (who you'll now have to refer to as mr gojo) and one of the teachers you'd never met here, math, with mr kento nanami. 

he sounded strict. 

you didn't like strict.

but you also could have sworn that the name sounded familiar. 

you happened to be correct, and you'd found that out in one of your first lessons with mr kento nanami:

he was a tall man, with blonde hair that had been styled in a neat side part. his cheeks were hollow, making the cheekbones on his face seem more prominent and emphasised. he didn't smile, not even during the first lesson, which had mainly been an introduction, and he spoke very formally, like a business man. you had learned that the business attire (the suit, tie, formal pants and pointy shoes) had not been a one-off dress code for him. after attending several of his  lessons, getting to know him better, you'd found that this was an everyday fit for him. 

that tie was a bit weird though, and mr nanami was anything but weird.

so you'd been correct in assuming that his name sounded familiar. he was just a year younger than satoru, suguru and ieiri, a mutual friend (though he did seem adamant that satoru and him were most definitely not friends, no matter how many times the white-haired beanstalk declared that they were). 

mr kento nanami was a funny man, you'd decided. strict, firm, and constantly exasperated, but funny nonetheless. without even trying, that is. you liked his lessons very much. the one thing that you didn't like, however, was the learning part of it — math was not your strong suit. that had been established years ago when you first started learning it, but it only became more emphasised in his classes.

"i can't do it," you declared out loud, using an eraser to erase yet another one of your miscalculations. "this is too hard —"

"you can do it," said kento nanami, who had made you sit right across from his desk because you seemed to need the most help out of everyone in the class. it turned out, this very class had been one of the top sets. it was a miracle you'd been placed there, let alone managed to stay there. though, arguably, you had been moved down several times, only for you to fail even more because apparently, only kento nanami's teachings stuck in your head, even if it was a struggle.

"i can't," you sighed, rubbing your temples, feeling a headache starting to form. whoever created math was going to wish they hadn't. "i'm going to die —"

kento nanami pinched the bridge of his nose: he didn't like it when you became dramatic.

"you're not going to —"

"yes i am." 

"you cannot expect to do even remotely well with that attitude," he said, completely disregarding your dramatic comment. "the last exam you completed —"

you grimaced. "don't remind me! even yuji did better than me... and he never studies!"

"i do study!" the pink-haired idiot lied from somewhere behind you. 

you knew he never studied. in fact, one time, when you spent most of the day at nobara's, her grandmother had forced you to sit and work through multiple equations, meanwhile yuji spent the day teaching football to the neighbours' kids. you knew — you watched him enjoy himself through the window.

"you can't believe him kento, he's lying to you to impress you —"

"i have half a mind to believe him simply out of spite," kento firmly told you, and there was a tick in his jaw. "for the millionth time, y/n, you will refer to me as mr nanami."

there was a habit that you'd adopted, which applied to teachers you really liked, but not limited to teachers you really hated. it was something that had always existed, calling teachers by their first names rather than their last names, if only to show them that they were your friends (or you simply had no respect for them if they were seen as your foe). masamichi, kento, satoru, ieiri, are candidates you liked very much. other teachers... not so much.

"mr kento nanami —"

"mr nanami," he repeated, stoic and stubborn. "as i was saying, the last exam you completed was notably better than the one prior. that shows improvement."

you stared at him, deadpanned. "i was only two points higher."

"any improvement is improvement."

you never considered yourself a pessimist. in fact, you always looked at the brighter side of things when no one else would. but with math, it almost felt like you would become a whole different person, and the last person you wanted to be like was emo, depressed, careless megumi. the thought sent a shiver down your spine.

"this is too hard," you sighed, placing your pencil down on the table with a look of defeat. "just bury me already —"

kento gave you a long and hard look, his expression stern and brows furrowed to the point where a deep line had been formed between them. he looked at you... perhaps not at you, maybe something or someone behind you, as his eyes fell over your shoulder meeting someone else's.

you would soon find out that it had been megumi. 

as if they'd created their own form of communication through the eyes itself, you found yourself sitting by megumi's desk now, his judgemental and critical look only serving to offend you.

"i'm helping you —"

"you literally called me dumb," you scoffed, brow raised in scepticism. 

megumi's eyes grew half-lidded, apparently bored with your accusation. "no i never."

"yes you did," you said firmly. "you said i'm as 'sharp as a marble'." 

the offender simply raised his own brow at you in apparent confusion, as if to say 'and?'. 

"marbles aren't sharp!" you snapped angrily, taking everyone around you by surprise at the sudden volume of your voice.

megumi ran a hand through his hair, dragged it down his face, and let out a small groan, muffled so as to not distract the rest of the class any further. he did not seem impressed, but you didn't care. the audacity he had to call you dumb when his teaching was clearly not working spoke volumes for you. 

you leaned back in your chair, arms folded over your chest, reluctantly sliding your completed work across from you and over to him. 

"mark my work," you demanded, with every intent to make it sound as bossy as you could.

he glared at you, but did not oppose, picking his pen up and going through the questions with you with a look of deep concentration. at times, he would scratch the back of his neck, rub his brow, grasp his chin, shake his head, and you had no idea what any of those actions meant (probably that you got every question wrong, again). 

only for you to be completely stumped when he looked up and met your eyes once more, no longer sporting the look of exhaustion, but one of pride. 

at least, you thought it was pride. all of megumi's expressions tended to be the same: his mouth a straight line, his eyes half-lidded, his brows unmoving, etc. though with time, you had managed to dissect each and every one and figure out whether he was happy, or sad, or angry, and so on. right now, you thought he looked impressed. you knew for sure that he didn't seem annoyed with you — that was usually his default, too!

cautiously and gradually, you leaned over and pulled the sheet towards yourself, eyes darting up and down before finding the final mark:

7/10 - good.

beaming, you met his eyes with a toothy smile, brows raised in pleasant shock.

"i'm so smart!" you declared, confidently and immensely proud.

he let out a long exhale through his nose. "why did you have to go and ruin it?"

you ignored him, snatching the paper and rushing over to kento's desk, taking enough care to slide in between the discarded chairs and tables people are sitting at, and swiping yuji's pencil case off the table just for the fun of it. at his wail of despair, you merely responded with a quiet 'oops' knowing quite well that your actions had been very much intentional. 

you did nearly slip on one of the stray pencils that had rolled out of his discarded pencil case, to your doom, but politely flipped yuji off when he laughed 'karma'. 

by the desk, on kento's chair, sat a baffled nobara, her eyes drooping and her soft, short hair dishevelled through, no doubt, constantly running her hands through it in obvious exhaustion. like you, math was not her strong spot. also like you, she looked ready to absolutely throttle whoever decided to add letters to numbers and make it part of the compulsory curriculum. 

kento himself stood opposite her, bent forward and holding himself up with his hands on the desk, pointing at the numerous equations on her own paper, and giving her extra guidance and clarification on them.

"do you understand it now?" your teacher asked her, looking down, sombre yet patient.

her hands were hidden somewhere beneath her hair, holding her head up as she stared grimly down at her own messy work, slowly nodding.

"yeah... but i'm going to torture, and murder, and torture —"

"— the guy that created math," kento finished off, looking slightly tense as he stood up to his full height, straightening himself seriously, "i've heard it, nobara." he looked over his shoulder and noticed you standing excitedly behind him. "what's wrong, y/n —"

"i get it now!" you informed him honestly, though you could tell the enthusiasm in your voice simply encouraged kento to feel more suspicion than anything else. "i got everything right!"

the small gasp of envy from nobara did not go unnoticed by you; kento tilted his chin downwards to take a better look at your paper, held up proudly by yourself. his narrowed eyes darted left and right, examining each question, each neat tick megumi had left behind, and finally reached the bottom of the page where your impressive score had been written in a bold red. 

kento nodded at you. 

"seven out of ten," he quoted, almost like a machine. "that's more than fifty percent."

"please, ken— i mean mr nanami —" you added when you'd caught sight of the pursing of his lips, "no more numbers. i've retired from being the genius i was just two minutes ago. i got everything right!"

"seven out of ten," kento repeated, voice gruff. "definitely an achievement, but not one hundred perce—"

"i'm still a genius," you interrupted, apparently choosing to select which parts of his statement you truly wanted to hear. "megumi said so —"

"no i never," your traitor of a friend had intervened from somewhere behind you. 

you regarded him, boot-faced and unimpressed. he was sitting next to yuji now, finishing off his own work. but apparently, your little white lie was enough to break him out of this cycle of work, work, and more work. 

"stop lying," he gracefully added.

you felt your eye twitch in indignation, turning around to face kento and plastering on a smile to mask your obvious discontent.

"he's the one lying," you whispered, though that did not stop kento from believing him over you. it became a habit over time, you'd noticed. you were still trying to figure out a way to break it.

"be more humble," grumbled nobara, still slouching on kento's chair with a permanent scowl painted over her face. "some of us are being beaten black and blue with all of this."

"i can teach you!" you offered, relishing in the smile that nobara's face had formed, extending to her eyes where the spark that usually lay there had been re-lighted. 

giddy, you skipped around kento and his desk to reach nobara on the other side, ignoring his weak protests about how he wasn't sure that you were absolutely confident in your skills at the particular topic. you and nobara were in your own world, sitting on the thin arm of his spinning chair, one half of your body slumped against her side and the other hovering above her as you guided her on the questions.

it was later found that kento had been correct. helping nobara only served to take away the knowledge that your teacher had already tirelessly given her. you walked away in shame after that, completely unaware of the fact that half of the method you'd used to solve the equations out were actually correct...

and not just over fifty percent, but one hundred percent. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

due to a series of upcoming exams, you and the rest of your little group had spent majority of your break times at study hall, looking over a bunch of your notes from social studies, to performing arts, to biology, chemistry, physics. however, the only one you had to truly focus on was math.

you slumped over your textbook, your expression a mix of frustration and defeat as you stared at the seemingly indecipherable equations before you. to you, math was a labyrinth of confusion, a tangled web of numbers and symbols that ensnared your mind with its complexity. each problem felt like a battle, with your thoughts colliding like opposing armies on a chaotic battlefield. the numbers mocked you, dancing tauntingly on the page as if daring you to unravel their secrets. it was as if you were trying to navigate through a dense fog, each step forwards only leading to a hundred steps backwards. math, to you, was a relentless adversary, an insurmountable mountain that you could never hope to conquer. 

your gaze flickered over to yuji, who seemed to effortlessly breeze through the math problems with a nonchalant ease that left you envious. he was like a graceful dancer, effortlessly gliding across the stage of equations while you stumbled clumsily in the wings. each correct answer he produced felt like a dagger to your pride, a reminder of your own inadequacy in the face of his natural talent. it was as if he had been born with a mathematical compass embedded in his mind, guiding him effortlessly through the labyrinth of numbers and formulas. you couldn't help but feel like a mere spectator in the shadow of his brilliance, your own struggles magnified in comparison to his effortless mastery.

what pissed you off more was the fact that this was yuji. 

yuji.

he barely studied (no matter what lies he fed to kento, your sensible math teacher). you could pass him a math paper without a warning and he would bring it back to you without a single strand of grey in the field of pink on his head. 

so, naturally, whilst megumi tutored an ever-growing depressed nobara, you asked yuji to help you...

you wished you hadn't made fun of megumi's hair that morning, that way, mustering up your courage to ask him for help instead probably would have been easier.

"so first," yuji began slowly, carefully writing out the numbers over your blank sheet. and then it was as if your life went by in two times speed. "you do that, and then that, and then that."

you took a careful glance at megumi's watch. your life hadn't zoomed by that fast: yuji was just a terrible tutor.

he dropped the pencil in front of you, letting it roll right next to where your hand lay, sitting back on his seat with a happy smile on his face, as if he'd actually accomplished something.

you felt your eye twitch.

"how about i show you how i do this, and then this, and then this!" you said, each emphasised word paired with a harsh smack on yuji's head with a rolled up booklet you snatched off the table. you did not know who it belonged to, probably megumi, but you did not care.

"okay okay okay! — ow! — okay, woman!"

"is that my business booklet?" megumi icily interrupted, eyes narrowed, following each and every movement of your hand that waved it around.

you shot him a glance, mild fury smouldering in your eyes.

"no..."

megumi fixed his gaze on you, his face a mask of calm that barely hinted at the storm brewing in his head. his eyes were like twin daggers, piercing through your facade with chilling precision. a muscle in his jaw twitched slightly, the only betrayal of his controlled exterior. 

"it has my name in bold," he informed you, bored.

"okay..." you said, peering down at the booklet in your hands with a masked expression. "you can have it back if you teach me how to do algebra?"

megumi's mouth set itself in a firm line, conveying a silent but unmistakable challenge. though his expression remained stoic, the intensity of his gaze was like a glacier, cold and unyielding, and also a bit tired, as though he'd expected nothing less from you. with a grin, you knew what it meant: you won.

before you could carry out your plan to throw yuji off his seat and reach megumi and nobara, an external voice jolted you out of your intense focus.

the four of you looked up, distracted: it was noritoshi kamo accompanied by chad montgomery, both of whom were part of the school's official football team alongside yuji and megumi. noritoshi (who preferred to simply go by kamo) had dark, straight hair that stopped a little further down his chin whereas chad was rather big, tall, and blonde, with a friendly face to match. it was a running joke that chad was very unlike the typical chads you'd see on tv. he was kinder, friendlier, yet still rather well-known.

"nice catch at gym today, y/n," kamo had said, barely smiling. you thought he had some sort of face freeze like megumi.

"thank you!" you beamed, turning to your friends as the two boys casually walked off. "see? people do appreciate the effort i put in at sports."

"you and nobara weren't meant to be in our class to begin with," said megumi, sliding a worksheet in your direction. you accepted it gratefully, though your attention was hardly on the paper.

"touche," nobara muttered into her own hand, her other scribbling over the doodles she'd drawn around her paper. "our class is boring."

"huh? i thought you liked coach lauren?" said yuji, visibly surprised.

you tapped the back of your pen on your worksheet impatiently. 

"we do! but it's not as fun when she doesn't care about us not participating," you told him thoughtfully. "but when it's coach yaga —"

megumi scowled. "he lost his voice because of the two of you."

you mirrored his scowl. "hey, we didn't tell him to yell and chase us across the field, did we?" 

"and he wouldn't have even noticed us if you hadn't ratted us out, snitch," nobara helpfully added, levelling an accusatory look at megumi while pointing the end of her pen at him.

megumi regarded you and nobara with a blank, almost bored expression. his mouth remained a straight line, devoid of any hint of emotion, as if he were staring at an unremarkable, distant horizon. the only movement was the slow blink of his eyelids, which seemed to convey a sense of enduring your antics with the patience of a stone statue.

"you guys were standing at the back and laughing at everyone," he stated.

"wrong," you hummed. "we were laughing at you."

yuji's laughter erupted, nearly causing him to topple from his chair as he doubled over, resting against the table. his whole body shook with mirth, his laughter filling the room with its infectious energy. 

nobara sliced through it with unbridled ease.

"we were laughing at you too, you clown," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "you and that todo guy being in your own little word —"

"it's not my fault!" said yuji, defensive. "he keeps following me, even when i go to megumi! he keeps saying we're brothers — i don't even know him!"

"i can't imagine you with a brother anyway," you said, barely registering yuji's alarm and stress, but it had completely disappeared at your comment, now masked over with an expression of pure confusion.

"but i do have a brother," he'd said, resulting in all three of you to look up at him with raised brows, parted mouths and narrowed eyes.

"huh?" nobara voiced, aggressive. "what do you mean? you never told us you —"

"i did!" he interrupted, eyes darting from megumi to you to nobara and then back again. "my half brother!"

"half brother?" you repeated, outraged. 

you spent the next few seconds thinking deep and hard as nobara verbally assaulted him for causing the three of you such distress with such a lie, racking your brain for a time where yuji had voiced to you that he had a half brother, something that you'd been blissfully unaware of for the last four years you had known him. 

"what's his name?" megumi asked, intervening loudly so that yuji would hear him over nobara's attacks.

"choso," said yuji, as though it were the most obvious and easiest thing to remember. "i told you guys!"

"so every time we watched movies at your place, how come it was only ever gramps and your parents?" you asked, notably surprised. 

on the days you'd sleep over at yuji's, you'd see mr and mrs itadori, both of whom insisted you'd call them kaori and jin, as their day shifts at their respective work places would end. never once did you see another being, another male by the name choso.

"he's much older than us, so he's already got his own place to live in," yuji explained, which, as much as you hated to admit it, made sense.

the initial shock of finding out that yuji had a half brother by the name choso had worn out after the next few minutes had been spent looking at different pictures of him and his odd family. they looked nothing alike, with choso sporting dark hair styled in odd pigtails and a more mature face and yuji having pink hair (you still insisted that it wasn't natural) and a more friendly, soft face. they didn't even have the same eye colour or remotely similar features.

somehow, the conversation had spun back to yuji's alleged brother, todo:

"maki told me that when he gets to senior year, he's planning on doing it twice," said nobara, glancing between a panicked-yuji and an exasperated-megumi for confirmation.

you nodded in agreement. "yeah, toge said the same thing."

nobara grinned at yuji. "looks like you'll be dealing with him for as long as we stay here."

yuji looked like he could be physically ill.

the rest of the day had gone by with yuji making multiple attempts to persuade the three of you that him and todo were most definitely not related by any means, and he only grew more and more panicked and alarmed when nobara would make sly comments about how todo would replace megumi as yuji's best friend and run off into the distance together, to which megumi pretended not to care (but you practically spoke in megumi-facial-expressions, and could tell that he very much did).

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

satoru's classroom was significantly larger than any of the other classes in the school. you noticed this the second you'd entered it back in september. he said it was because of the fact that he's a science teacher and therefore needs a larger room for laboratory experiments and so on, but you knew it was a lie. why did ieiri, who was also a science teacher, have a classroom slightly smaller than his? 

you ran the thought in your head multiple times, before ultimately deciding that he had probably thrown a fit over it and bribed his way up that ladder. it helped that he was also filthy rich, not that anyone else needed to know that.

there were three lab tables in his room, his desk on the left of the whiteboard and projector, and the door on the right. windows surrounded two of the four walls in the room, brightening it up so much so that on the days that you were plagued with headaches, satoru's classes became dreadful (which was saying a lot, seeing as you and several others thoroughly enjoyed his lessons).

you, megumi, yuji and nobara sat on the table in the far left, closest to satoru's desk. there wasn't necessarily a seating plan, but the one time you and nobara sat on the table furthest from his desk, he did act pretty prissy about it the entire day. 

"reproduction!" he said, a little too enthusiastically though knowing him, he most likely meant to. adjusting the circular glasses on his nose, he gestured to the board where a presentation of said-topic demanded each and every viewer's attention. no other topic within the subject of biology ever had this many balloon stickers or confetti gifs. "my favourite topic!"

"fuck's sake," you heard megumi mutter under his breath from across yuji, who was sitting nervously on your right.

the other boys in your class, sitting around the table in the middle and the table on the far right seemed to be getting a little too excited, in your humble opinion: sitting up straighter with ugly grins forming on their ugly faces, looking around and making cheeky eye contact with one another. 

"i know a lot about that," you heard tyler jenson announce, his too-happy face only serving to irk you in ways even megumi could not. but whilst you sat there with a sour expression forming second by second, nobara (seated next to megumi) turned around and voiced your thoughts.

"and yet you've never been touched by a woman."

the classroom was then filled with muffled laughter as many hid the lower halves of their faces behind their hands, giggling and chuckling as tyler's face became more compatible to the colour of a cherry rather than the colour of the skin on his hands and arms. nobara turned back around with her lips in a straight, thin line, shaking her head due to some of the hair that had fallen over her eyes. 

"mr gojo," one of tyler's minion-friends spoke up, very clearly offended. it became quite clear that tyler would not speak for himself from here on out. "aren't you going to — like — say something about that..?"

satoru raised a brow, the smile he usually adorned with pearly-white teeth non-existent, almost as if it were never there. 

"no," he said, hands resting in the pockets of his pants, "because she just demolished you."

he went back to teaching as though nothing had happened. 

the rest of the lesson had gone by quite well. few of tyler's minion friends had gotten the message and remained silent for the remainder of the hour, chalking it up to 'favouritism', though everyone knew otherwise. as many odd jokes that satoru had made, he did eventually teach the curriculum, even when the comments from tyler's other foolish friends had irked everyone by opening their mouths:

"okay," nodded satoru, visibly tense as he stood up and slammed his entire hand against the whiteboard so suddenly, with such aggression, the projector wobbled. "listen here! reproduction? sex? it's bad. who can tell me why?"

you looked around. everyone seemed just as startled as you. as fun as satoru's classes were, when he pulled random shit like this, you were more inclined to feel scared than enraptured. but it wasn't a class lead by satoru gojo unless satoru gojo became melodramatic at some point during it. 

"no one?" he continued, head turning left and right. "megumi?"

"leave me alone."

satoru promptly turned to your other friend instead. "yuji!"

"er... because... it distracts you from school work?" yuji guessed, scratching the back of his ear, a random habit you realised he'd picked up over the last few months. 

satoru nodded slowly. 

"warmer..." he'd said; yuji beamed. "nobara!"

"because men don't perform —"

"no, but i should've seen that comin'," your teacher interrupted mindlessly, the smile unwavering as he turned his gaze to you. although, it was hard to tell for certain, for the silly sunglasses he wore indoors concealed his eyes. "y/n!"

"it's a sin —"

"why on earth did i ask you to begin with?" he said, turning away and shaking his head. "okay, note this down, all of you. you can die if you have sex, yeah?"

clement roy, who was seated by the middle table (also one of the smartest in the class) spoke up with a frown:

"no you can't. having intercourse isn't dangerous."

satoru did not seem impressed. he stared at clement roy with the expression a child would give to their parent over rejection of candy before dinner. 

"all right smarty-pants, want to explain to the class what'll happen when you get chlamydia?" hedemanded, visibly nettled. before clement could even think of a response, the drama queen had already pressed on. "you'll die. you'll suffer in silence because you won't want to communicate to another responsible human being about how you were being irresponsible and then die because chlamydia got you."

you could drop a pin on the floor and the sound would echo around the room and bounce off of the walls with how eerily quiet it had gotten. had it not been broad daylight, you were certain the croaking of crickets would be the only thing perceived in this awkward silence. 

"don't just stare at me, write it down!"

barely fifteen minutes later, satoru had gone back to behaving more positively playful than negatively dramatic. 

at some point in the lesson, he'd handed out worksheets for everyone to go through and complete, filled with a series of questions based on what he managed to teach for the last thirty to forty minutes. the questions hadn't been too hard; you whizzed through them in no time. to check your answers, you stretched your body over the table and snatched megumi's paper without warning, sitting back down comfortably and ignoring his demands of handing it back.

"give it," he'd said, but the look on his face was too funny to pass up. 

megumi's default expression was always that bored, grumpy look. his angry expression, however, was much more emphasised: his nose had a way of scrunching itself up the tiniest bit, his jaw became tighter, and when his brows closed in on each other, he looked as though he'd aged ten times faster. this expression was harder to catch on camera because he always managed to swipe your phone out of your hands whenever you'd reach for it, like his sixth sense was knowing just when you'd go for the kill, the oddbot. that was why it mattered a million times more when he'd look more angry than he did bored or careless.

"i have to mark my work," you told him, placing it side-by-side with your own.

"ha! thanks, megumi!" added yuji, adding his worksheet (with scribbles, writing, and more scribbles on it) next to yours and megumi's. 

"you're not welcome. give it back, y/n —"

"hand it to me when you're done. think i got the last few wrong," said nobara, and without looking up, you raised your thumb, giving her your affirmative. 

megumi growled. "no —"

"what're you gonna do, huh?" said nobara, poking him on the shoulder with the end of her pen. "tell mr gojo?"

"what is this, mean girls?" megumi grumbled, deadpanned. "oi, regina, give me back my sheet —"

you shook your head. yuji came to your defence:

"we're not done —"

"shut up karen."

he gasped. you probably would have laughed if you weren't so occupied with scribbling out the few answers that you'd gotten wrong (based off of megumi's own work, which tended to be correct nine times out of ten). 

before you could blink, megumi's work had been swiped away from you, but not by the owner himself (you were silently surprised that he hadn't marched around the table to snag it from you by now) but by an audibly annoyed yuji, who was mumbling curses under his breath as he sketched something in the top left corner of the paper. 

vexed, exasperated, and disturbed, you pinched yuji's thigh before snatching the paper back, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed. your hardened expression became less tight at the sight of the literal penis that yuji had drawn. two seconds had barely passed before you found yourself gasping for breath, hand over your mouth at a futile attempt at muffling your own laughter. 

nobara perked up, interested and offended.

"hey, don't leave me out," she snapped, back straight and chin held high. "what's so funny?"

with the deliberate intention of ensuring that the sulky boy seated diagonally across from you had also seen his own paper, you lifted it and showed it to her. 

"what the hell?" he demanded, making a move at swiping it out of your hands, but you were quicker, sliding it across the table to nobara instead. 

megumi's face twisted in irritation as his dark eyes landed on the defaced worksheet. a faint flush spread across his pale cheeks, a rare sign of his mounting frustration. his jaw clenched, muscles tensing visibly under his skin as he took a slow, deep breath, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly, betraying the effort it took to suppress a scathing retort. he glared at yuji, his gaze as cold and hard as steel, before flicking back to the offending drawing. with a huff of exasperation, he snatched the paper back, his movements quick and brusque, clearly indicating his annoyance. for a moment, he sat still, radiating a palpable aura of vexation, before muttering under his breath and looking up at you all, clearly done with your antics.

nobara whistled lowly, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "damn, who pissed in your cereal, megumi?"

"why would you do that?" megumi demanded, his voice edged with irritation as he fixed Yuji with a piercing glare, completely ignoring nobara's teasing remark.

yuji, with his arms folded over his chest with a look akin to a child after throwing a tantrum, returned megumi's glare with one of his own. 

"revenge," he stated simply, his tone carrying a quiet but unmistakable resolve. 

before anyone could chime in with their own thoughts, satoru materialised from behind megumi, sporting his trademark easy grin, which only widened at megumi's apparent annoyance.

"who rained on megumi's parade?" he'd asked, sounding curious yet looking devious. it wasn't a surprise to anyone that satoru enjoyed anything that made megumi unhappy (in terms of teasing, of course).

"yuji doodled a bit on his paper," you said, rolling your eyes. "now he's throwing a fit over it."

megumi shot you a sharp glare, his expression a mix of annoyance and disbelief. his eyes narrowed slightly, silently questioning your choice of words, but refrained from saying anything, opting instead to let his disapproval speak for itself.

until he couldn't.

"stop being such a grump, megumi," satoru chortled, his teasing only exacerbating the tension brewing within megumi fushiguro. "it just makes you look more like your dad, and who the hell wants to look like toji —"

"he drew a dick on my paper," megumi interjected sharply, his frustration evident in his tone, like a rope pulled taut in a tug-of-war.

satoru's laughter bubbles up, a blend of genuine surprise and amusement twinkling in his eyes. he chuckles softly, a grin playing on his lips as he shakes his head, clearly taken aback by megumi's straightforwardness and yuji's unexpected actions.

"big deal," he said, forcing himself in between nobara and megumi. "let's see de vinci's art —"

"ugh, you're squashing us!" nobara snapped, but satoru had paid no mind to her. in fact, her comment had only seemed to have encouraged him to force himself between them further, all with a knowing smile on his face.

satoru's laughter burst forth as he caught sight of the drawing, genuine amusement evident in the small crinkles that formed around his eyes. his grin widened, his shoulders shaking slightly with suppressed mirth as he took in the absurdity of the situation. his constant laughter eventually caused him to double over, and he instinctively reached out, grabbing onto nobara's shoulder for support. his fingers gripped onto her firmly, but not aggressively, just enough to steady himself as he tried to regain his composure. 

nobara's irritation became palpable at satoru's hand that had landed on her shoulder for support. she shot him a pointed look, her body stiffening slightly as she made subtle attempts to wriggle out of his grasp.

"as wonderful as this is," he sighed, wiping an imaginary tear from his shielded eye, "i have to get rid of it."

it was, perhaps, the first time in that lesson that megumi had looked up in approval.

yuji shrugged, his tone matter-of-fact. 

"i don't care, i did it to prove a point," he stated, his brows furrowing in mild annoyance.

"what point?" said nobara, apparently having given up on trying to pry satoru's hand off her shoulder. even so, she didn't look too pleased about it. 

yuji shrugged, his expression easing as the tension left his jaw and his furrowed brows smoothed out. eyes widened, and his brows lifted slightly, yuji's lips parted, and his forehead smoothed itself out. the overall expression on his face was one of genuine puzzlement. 

"i... can't really remember to be honest —"

"erase it," megumi commanded, his voice tight with irritation.

"no," yuji shot back, defensive. "maybe you should learn to be more nice to me —"

"after this?" said megumi, voice sharp and cutting, brimming with barely restrained fury. "like hell."

"there's too much testosterone on this table," said nobara, eyeing your other male classmates that sat down a little further down from the four of you. "y/n and i should've sat near the door —"

"oh yeah?" began satoru, bending down slightly to level his face with hers. he did not look too pleased. "and how well did that work for you last time, huh?"

but before she could actually answer his question, he had already moved on, looking around at you, yuji and megumi, and pointing at the cursed sketch on the paper.

"i don't want to do this," he said, leaning over to grab it and slide it towards the end of the table where he stood with an eraser in his hand. 

he pressed it against the drawing, letting out false sobs of despair with each swipe, loud enough to draw the attention of the rest of the class. it was ugly, drawn-out, and extremely sonorous. you regarded him with a look of disgust; megumi slouched in his seat, as though that would conceal him from the onlookers; nobara pressed a hand to her forehead, head bent and gaze averted; yuji watched satoru without shame, apparently still his biggest cheerleader.

"okay you can stop now," you added, when it became crystal clear that satoru would go on and on just for the sake of someone finally addressing his shameless acting. you would rather die than have it continue. 

he grinned, radiating self-assured pride as he addressed your little group.

"now i wish i took a picture before i got rid of it," he sighed, placing the paper in front of its rightful owner. 

from where you were sat, you could still see the outline of the sketch, faded yet visible. it seemed that yuji had released his anger from his hand straight to the pencil, applying enough pressure to leave a mark even when erased. if that didn't teach megumi to be more polite, you didn't know what would. 

a deep voice suddenly interrupted the commotion, cutting through the conversation like a knife. the speaker's tone was unnervingly calm and composed, each word enunciated with precision and the use of complete formal english added an air of false-authority and distance, sounding almost archaic due to the lack of contractions. 

all five of you turned your heads to stare at the figure hiding beneath the table surrounding the outer-edge of the classroom where multiple sinks were built in: malakai the emo, who you had first met in middle school. he just so happened to attend the same high school too. even so, the only classes that the two of you shared were satoru's biology and physics ones.

"there is a disturbance occurring on that table near the desk belonging to the teacher," he began, voice slow, almost snarling. "and i do not like it very much..."

satoru frowned, watching him with obvious exasperation. if there was one being that threw even satoru gojo, the drama queen off, it was malakai the emo (who, if anyone had forgotten, preferred to be called 'kai' and will visibly glitch if referred to as 'malakai').

"disturbances should never occur inside classrooms..."

you scoffed. "coming from the biggest attention-whore of today's history."

satoru waved a hand in your direction, a silent dismissal, one that very clearly communicated that he would handle the issue. 

"and this is my class," he told the emo, raising a white brow. 

"mr gojo..." malakai began, still borderline snarling, "you do not know how to manage this class very well..."

you couldn't exactly tell due to his opaque glasses, but judging from the way his brows shot up dramatically, nearly disappearing beneath his white hair, you knew that satoru's eyes widened in exaggerated shock. his mouth dropped open in a perfect 'O' of disbelief. he gasped audibly, the sound loud and theatrical. his usually playful demeanour transformed into one of theatrical indignation, his entire face a portrait of mock outrage. his head tilted back slightly, as if to better display his expression to everyone present.

"you don't even know how to stand without glitching, kid," he teased, with every intent of offending malakai. "ah-ah, not another word outta ya," he added, pointer finger raised with a smile. "i'd send you to miss shoko —"

you did not need to take a look at malakai to know that he was smiling hopefully. if there was one teacher he loved, it was ieiri, for her classroom was shielded from the light outside, and she did not have a care in the world for whatever he did.

"— but she said she'll beat my ass if i do that again. so, i'll make sure you sit on the table, kai, not under it."

context: malakai had this thing where he detested sitting in the light, hated classrooms where the blinds weren't down, and loathed anyone who wore bright colours. according to him, the 'darkness will consume him'. on the first day of high school, he'd sat underneath the sink where it was dark, tight, and cramped. when satoru made an attempt to get him to sit on the table (like everybody else) he visibly shook and caused a scene, turning animalistic over nothing.

satoru had never made another attempt since.

at some point in the year, it had come to your attention that the teachers in his other classes had forced him to sit on the tables, but not without a negotiation: he would sit on a table on his own, so long as he was at the very back of the classroom, in a secluded corner, where no visible sunlight would reach him. even then, he would glitch and tweak, but he would sit there quietly nonetheless. 

there was a time where kento had to teach one of his math classes due to his regular teacher falling ill, and when you'd asked malakai about it, he'd described it as 'hell'. you could only assume that kento hadn't let him sit under a table, nor made an effort in following any negotiations. 

but, surprisingly enough, malakai's grades in satoru's classes were the highest out of the rest of his classes. perhaps sitting under a table like he wants actually has its benefits. 

malakai let out a loud hiss at satoru's words, as if they'd burned him to the point of no recovery. 

satoru had given up.

"okay i'll risk the ass kicking, go to miss shoko."

malakai crawled out from his spot beneath the sink and sprang up, a maniacal grin plastered on his face. his arms flailed wildly, as if he had downed ten bottles of alcohol in one sitting. malakai's eyes widened, the gleam of anticipation shining through the heavy kohl lining his eyes. a wide, ecstatic grin stretched across his face, revealing a flash of his sharp canines (apparently he loved to use charcoal toothpaste). he practically bounced on his feet, his whole body vibrating with eager energy as he ran across the classroom in that weird way that he runs — body bent forward and arms extended backwards (satoru once said that he should be part of the ninjas in naruto — you couldn't get the image out of your head now).

"yes — miss shoko — and her dark, dark under-eyes —"

the rest of you watched him ninja-run out of the classroom and down the hall, his footsteps echoing and fading. 

satoru adjusted the glasses on his nose with an air of quiet concern. "there is something seriously wrong with that kid."

barely five minutes had gone by before his phone vibrated in his pocket; he took it out, checked it, and then smiled up at you all.

"if i don't turn up tomorrow, it was ieiri shoko: thirty one years old, brown hair, brown eyes, about this short —"

he did show up the next day, but with a cut on his lower lip and quite the story to tell. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

as several other paying customers walked into the quaint cafe, the bell above the door chimed softly, announcing their arrival. the interior was a charming blend of rustic and modern elements, creating an inviting atmosphere for its patrons. the space was not overly large, you'd noticed since your introduction to the place, but it was very clearly thoughtfully designed to maximize comfort, with several circular tables made of beige wood on each side of the room, all of which were adorned with fresh flowers in small vases. your favourite part, however, was the soft ambient lighting from the hanging pendant lamps that created a warm glow, casting a muted illumination all over the space.

the walls were also furnished with framed artwork and vintage posters, which you thought added some character and charm to the place. where you and megumi sat on the stools by the counter, a large chalkboard stood behind it displayed the day's menu offerings, written in elegant script with colourful chalk illustrations of pastries and beverages. the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods wafted through the air, tempting your senses and inviting customers to indulge in the cafe's delectable offerings. 

you and megumi tended to avoid the place during peak time, but if you just so happened to be passing by, sometimes you'd force your way to the front to offer some help to the distressed, kind lady (also known as miss B) serving everyone. since it also happened to be local, you had become regular customers and people she looked forward to seeing during the day. 

with kento's gruelling homework laid out messily over the counter before you, the gentle chatter and soft music filled the air, further distracting you from the cruel equations on the papers waiting to be solved. 

while you and megumi had come here to study together, you only did so for, perhaps, twenty minutes before the laptop you'd stolen from the bakery woman working diligently behind the counter had been used for activities other than studying math. it wasn't a new occurrence: it was a daily routine to search up the reviews on the cafe (buttercup brew) and respond to any that were badmouthing miss B, the food, or the place itself since the two of you both acknowledged the fact that she was too lenient and nice to do so herself.

"'what's the opposite of delicious?'" you read out, leaning in to megumi's side to read off of the laptop that he had pulled towards himself.

megumi scoffed, his pale fingers typing away aggressively at the keyboard before him. 

what's the opposite of clever? he had silently written.

your eyes widened in both surprise and delight, a bright, melodious laugh escaping your lips, eyes crinkling at the corners, sparkling with amusement. your laughter eventually subsided into soft giggles, and you looked at megumi with a twinkle in your eye.

"impressive," you praised, glancing back at the laptop, intrigued. "any more?"

megumi nodded, a carefully manicured finger gently swiping down the touchpad.

"'came in the day they were trialling savoury dishes. the food was bland. this is a bakery, stick to sweets,'" he'd read out, monotoned. "by a woman, this time."

your cheerful demeanour fades slightly as megumi read out the negative comment, brows furrowed as a small frown tugged at the corners of your lips. you pulled the laptop towards yourself, eyes narrowed in mild irritation.

"i got this one," you told him, reading as you typed. "you'd... know... all... about... bland... wouldn't you... no-season-susan?"

you hit 'enter' and smiled, self-satisfied. 

but before you or megumi could voice your thoughts on your comment, the soft sound of the bell chiming behind you had the two of you turning in your stools to examine the stoic man walking into the cafe. you pinched megumi's thigh, hard enough for him to angrily slap your hand away with a low grunt. you didn't mind, smiling as you watched the aloof man with the undercut walk up to the other side of the counter and order his food.

"i want to do this one," you said, voice low so as to not attract the attention of the man. "he dressed up as levi and went to the military, asking to join the scout regiment."

megumi peered down at you, blank faced. "where the hell are you going with this?"

"he got sent home."

you watched his face carefully, noting how his eyes shifted away from yours, as if he were suppressing his emotions. you could tell he wanted to laugh; it was evident in the subtle curl of his lips and the slight tremor of his shoulders as he exhaled through his nose.

"that's not levi," he finally settled on saying, glancing at the man in question. "that's ivel."

you grinned. "close enough... i was thinking more along the lines of evil."

your usually stoic friend let out a rare chuckle. with a broad smile, you nudged his side, eager to show him that you had the unique ability to make even him laugh.

"look," you called out to miss B, preparing what looked to be black coffee for mr evil-not-levi, the strong aroma of the coffee beans wafting in the air. "porcupine's smiling! quick, take a picture!"

miss B chuckled, her brows raising so that her soft bangs fell over her closed eyes as she stirred the mixture in the cup. megumi, on the other hand, scowled, any trace of what once held a small smile eradicated.

"too late," he'd said, moving the laptop so it was in front of him instead, and holding the bottom arrow to scroll further down the website with critical eyes.

"you should just take it secretly from now on," you told miss B, watching as she handed the fake-levi his coffee and politely told him to take a seat. she now stood opposite you, smiling as she adjusted the red baker's hat resting on her head. "megumi smiling is a super rare occurrence."

"why would you say that in front of me?" said megumi, looking up and facing you with an expression of mild irritation. "defeats the purpose of secrecy."

"what are you gonna do, attack us?" you challenged, rolling your eyes. "i'll tell my dad never to bring you any of those weird artifacts that you like."

"stop lying."

"okay so maybe i wouldn't do that... but i could change my mind! so you're treading on thin ice, porcupine! i'd be really careful if i were you."

megumi's eyes grew half-lidded, his expression teetering between a scowl and a look of complete disinterest as he stared down at you.

"i'm so scared right now," he stated, the obvious sarcasm making miss B giggle at the interaction. 

you had a witty response resting at the tip of your tongue, but could not execute it in time before the bell by the door had chimed again. all three of you had turned your heads so as to check who had entered. you beamed in excitement, watching as a rather beefy man waddled up to the counter to place his order.

before he had reached it, however, you glanced at miss B, lip curled in interest.

"why don't you have a go?" you asked her, sounding slightly pleading. "i promise you, it'll be fun!"

"because no matter what you say, they're paying my wages," she said calmly, though not unkindly as she prepared to walk over to the other end of the counter to take the man's order. "and it's mean!"

you pouted, looking over at megumi with slightly puckered lips and a frown.

he got the message and (as always) feigned reluctance before turning to scrutinise the stranger. you sat up straighter, a rush of excitement coursing through your veins as you awaited his theory, the disappointment that you had been feeling for all of two seconds evaporating as if it had never been there to begin with.

"he definitely had a wife and three kids with him years ago," he began leisurely, as if to build some suspense to this unconfirmed story, "but someone called cps on him because they would resemble skeletons and he'd resemble the do-the-roar-kid , but if he was older."

"he ate all their food?" you gasped, surprised at the dark turn of events. 

"and their plates too."

"oh!" you nodded, focused. "so like your dad?"

the corners of his mouth turned downwards, and his eyes narrowed, darkening with annoyance.

"i'm not having this conversation with you," he stated matter-of-factly.

you smiled sheepishly. "yeah, don't tell him i said that."

"won't make any promises."

"well then i'll tell satoru that you and hana reunited at the hilltop downtown —"

"he knows you like lying."

"doesn't mean he won't tease you for it regardless."

"..."

"yeah, that's what i thoug—"

"i'll tell everyone tonight about what happened when you lied about being a mermaid —"

your embarrassment surged like a wave, your face growing uncomfortably warm. you felt the heat radiating from your cheeks, a prickling sensation spreading across your skin. your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of anger and mortification causing your pulse to quicken, the heat of your blush intensifying as the urge to defend yourself burned inside you, evident in the way you jammed your elbow into his side. 

you relished in the pained grunt he let out as he rubbed the targeted area, slightly bent forward as he glared up at you through narrowed eyes.

satisfied and proud, you pulled the laptop towards you and scrolled down to find more rude and dishonest reviews to casually debunk and argue with. 

 "'saw rats around in the shape of two kids... they should get an exterminator'..." you read out slowly, a tense silence falling over the two of you and (in your mind) the entire cafe too. your stomach dropped, eyes widening as you snapped your head over to face an already-disgruntled megumi. "is this incel talking about us?"

"ye—"

"how dare it?" you gasped, angrily typing up a response, the sounds of the buttons on the keyboard being pressed more aggressively than it should be resonated around the small interior. "look at the profile picture, that's the guy we shouted at last week!"

megumi leaned in, chin resting a little over your right shoulder as he examined the image with a glower. 

"he could afford to skip a few sweet treats —"

"it, megumi," you corrected, hitting 'enter' after you finished typing up your response. "it could afford to skip a few sweet treats."

he read out your response, tone bland and unwavering:

"'is that why they call you the rat whisperer?'"

he locked eyes with you, his usual blank expression barely masking the faint trace of amusement in his gaze. you looked away, back at the laptop to find another rude comment to respond to. 

"oh, one star review! look!" you said, pointing at the screen enthusiastically. "'chocolate too sweet. bad.'" you stared at the review, unimpressed. "i mean, it's almost as if that's the point."

you sighed and rolled your eyes, fingers flying over the keyboard as you typed a response to the absurd comment. megumi watched quietly, noting the way your eyes narrowed in unimpressed concentration as you crafted your reply. you wouldn't be actively defending this cafe and miss B if you truly believed that her food and service was not good: her bread, pastries, cupcakes, sweet treats were the best in the town. people ought to know that.

your response was quite simple, written in the same manner this liar wrote his:

dave schlager too stupid (chocolate is meant to be sweet). bad.

the bell behind you gave a soft chime, heralding the arrival of yet another customer. however, when you and megumi eagerly and robotically looked over your shoulders to observe the newcomer, you hadn't expected to feel that familiar strain in your stomach, an itch that ran all the way up to your throat, prompting you to laugh. you usually had this reaction when you'd see men, but the sight before you proved otherwise.

the woman who had entered the cafe was a sight to behold. her hair was an untamed mass, sticking out at odd angles that defied any sense of natural order. strands of grey wove through the wild mane, giving it a streaked, chaotic appearance. her eyes were wide and bulging, darting around the room with a manic energy that made them seem even larger. her clothes were dishevelled, adding to her overall rugged and eccentric look, only making it more of a struggle for you to suppress a laugh, her appearance so wildly unconventional, that it seemed almost surreal. you had half a mind to ask megumi to pinch you, but refrained, knowing he'd enjoy it too much. 

the two of you faced the front again. megumi didn't seem too fazed, face stony and tired. you, on the other hand, found your shoulders shaking with the effort of holding back several incoming giggles. he looked down at you, very clearly unmoved. 

"i'm gonna take a wild guess and assume you want to take this one?"

you slapped a hand over your mouth and faked a cough, forehead nearly meeting the table as you hid your laughter, bent forward and chest heaving. you felt megumi's hand tapping and rubbing at your back, almost as if to hold up the act that you were ill. 

you almost thanked him before you heard his low, grumpy voice.

"you're not embarrassing me today."

you didn't even have it in you to shrug his hand off. instead, you straightened up and made an attempt to mask your expression as much as possible, facing him with a sheepish smile.

"her story's not too long," you began, almost letting a giggle slip. almost. "megumi... she stole from the bank and the fbi tased her. and then — and then she got electrocuted!"

you laughed harder at that, making little effort to conceal it. even megumi, who barely ever smiled in a day — and who you very much expected to scold you for this one — looked like he was struggling to hide one (but just scarcely).

he eventually let out a small chuckle, which only encouraged you to laugh some more. you doubled over slightly, gripping onto the counter for support, some of your abandoned math sheets falling on the floor, your infectious giggles filling the quiet air. megumi's lips twitched slightly, a silent chuckle escaping him as he watched your reaction, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. at the sight of him joining in on the fun, you pointed at him, realising something else.

"why are you laughing?" you inquired, then reached down to retrieve a mirror, holding it up so he was met with his own reflection. "haha! you both got struck by lightning!"

his smile had disintegrated, only watching you as you rocked yourself back and forth at his expression, feeling a stitch in your side with how funny the situation was. silently and angrily, he swiped the mirror out of your hands, raising his own hand to flick at your forehead. 

you choked, the minor pain at the centre of your forehead jolting you awake from your laughing fit. scowling, you rubbed at the area he'd intentionally hurt, barely registering the fact that he had taken the laptop to continue attacking the bad reviews.

you let him, acknowledging the fact that what you had said was rather mean. 

"'i came not once, not twice but THREE times for food, every time it tasted not up to par,'" megumi's disinterested voice read aloud, the annoyance from what you'd said still lacing each word with slight venom. you laughed. "why would you go back to a place if you didn't like it? idiot."

"you tell 'em, porcupine," you encouraged, anticipating his response. 

megumi's witty comebacks were always funny. he didn't even mean to make you laugh with them, but even then, they were enough to have you practically rolling around on the floor, belly aching and heart running a million miles per second. his nonchalant behaviour only added to the amusement.

he wrote his reply, sent it, and then slid the laptop over to you. you leaned forward, reading and judging:

stop coming for breakfast, lunch and dinner, we're not a food bank.

you gave that one an 11/10 — the man behind the account would need to change his name, date of birth and identity, and then remove himself from the face of the earth if he ever wanted to recover from that, you concluded wisely.

your praise sat at the tip of your tongue, only to be abandoned at the echo of the bell's chimes that bounced off of the walls, signalling the arrival of another customer. figuring that this would be megumi's turn to create a theory, you turned on your stool excitedly, only to have your jaw drop to the floor and under.

standing in front of the door was none other than your favourite (and only) math teacher of the year: mr kento nanami! 

your heart skipped a beat as you caught sight of your math teacher entering the cafe. shock painted your features as you gawked, wide-eyed, hardly believing that the business-attire man was standing in a setting that wasn't your typical school environment. you exchanged a quick, incredulous glance with megumi before hastily adjusting your posture, trying to appear composed despite the unexpected surprise.

it was typical. he still wore the same clothes (which made sense since you and megumi had too seeing as you went straight to the cafe right after school had finished). but something about seeing him enter such a cottage-vibe, almost feminine cafe made you recoil, not that you were displeased at all. in fact, you thought that this was the best arrival that the bell had drawn your attention to yet!

"kento nanami!" you yelled, ignoring megumi wincing at the sudden volume of your voice as you raised an arm over your head to enthusiastically wave at him. 

a slight scowl of annoyance marred his usually composed face when he heard you call out to him using his government name. his brows furrowed, and a hint of disapproval flashed in his eyes, portraying his strict demeanour, but you didn't mind. surely school rules did not apply outside of the school environment? surely it didn't matter whether you referred to him as kento or mr nanami or whatever?

"kento, look!" you tried again, turning halfway to grab your math homework sheets and present them to him. "i'm sitting here doing your homework! in this beautiful cafe! because of you!"

"actually, you spent the last thirty minutes laughing at my customers and arguing with the bad reviews again," miss B corrected you, apparently materialising out of thin air. 

you jumped slightly, the sheets scattering and your brows furrowing as you watched her shut the laptop and take it away. kento's response also took you by surprise.

"i was correct in believing that it wasn't you disrespectfully responding to them."

he had made his way further down the interior, leading up to the counter where miss B, you, and megumi were.

you beamed. "no, it was megumi and i."

megumi grumbled something along the lines of 'wasn't me', which you knew was a complete and utter lie. megumi was your accomplice in all of this; it didn't matter whether you were the mastermind behind it all. he still served his purpose and did it brilliantly too. you couldn't have asked for a better partner. except, perhaps, nobara, who was equally as good as him at silencing people when it was necessary.

although, kento did not look as though he believed you. you didn't like that much.

"keep an eye out for the one where he told the guy that he shouldn't come so often because we're not a food bank!" you told him honestly, still smiling despite kento's obvious disbelief.

he glanced at megumi as if to say is-this-true? 

you chortled, knowing full well that megumi would not lie with his chest, especially not in front of you.

"megumi is sensible," said kento, with such confidence, you almost felt bad for him. you wondered what his reaction would be if you told him about that one zoo incident where megumi jumped into the gorilla enclosure and declared that he'd stay there for the rest of his life? or the occasion where little you and megumi had been scolded by your parents so badly, he made the suggestion of running away together (and went through with it) even though it was bound to have failed from the beginning? or the time where he helped you torment your unfriendly, rival neighbour mrs daphne on facebook to the point where she had marched down to your houses to complain to your parents? 

megumi is sensible, you thought, and nearly laughed. how comical, loud, and wrong.

"why do you think the punctuation is so perfect?" you asked, raising a brow. "you think i'd care enough to put capital letters and full stops everywhere?"

kento's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face as he processed the unexpected news. a momentary pause followed, during which his features tensed with mild astonishment, and yours only grew more joyful. megumi, on the other hand, was silently forcing down the urge to push you off your stool and walk home without you (he would never).

"the usual?" miss B interrupted, still smiling the elegant way that she does. 

kento nodded slowly, she began organising his order behind the counter. you blinked several times.

"the usual?" you repeated, bewildered. "kento nana—"

"y/n," he snapped, still composed even so. "refrain from referring to me with my first name."

"we're not at school," you reminded him.

he adjusted the odd, spotted tie he wore, looking irked. "doesn't matter —"

"you come here a lot?" you asked, curious. even megumi seemed interested, and he had been frowning and grumbling the second kento had walked past the door. 

"this place has the best bread in town," he told you, stiff. "better than my local supermarkets."

you grinned. "and miss B is the best cashier and server ever, right?"

you sensed megumi's gaze on you, causing you to adjust the way you sat slightly in your seat. you ignored the feeling, understanding that megumi knew what you were trying to do and was making it extremely clear that he wanted you to look at him for a second, if the way he was tugging at the bottom of your sleeve aggressively was anything to go by. you slapped his hand away, grin widening ever so slightly as the hiss he let out, still getting into character. your role? temporary matchmaker.

kento watched miss B work behind the counter.

"i respect her a lot," he said, barely answering the question. 

you wanted to gruel him for some more information, but your time had been cut short when miss B's soft voice had driven a smooth knife through the heated conversation.

"here you are," she said, handing him his food in a bag. 

he exchanged it for some money, she tried to give him some change, he told her she could keep it. with a final look at you, megumi, and the homework he'd assigned you, he told you to take care of yourselves and left the cafe, his strides even and his back straight. 

what took you by surprise was the fact that miss B had followed him out, waving at him from the door and telling him to come again after a brief conversation with him that you and megumi, from where you were sat, could not hear. she never did this with any of her other customers. you were here so often that you knew she did not. the two of you exchanged looks of obvious bafflement, sitting up straighter and raising your chins to nosily observe the sight before you.

when she returned, you did not miss the rosy pink in her cheeks. 

"miss B —" you began, only for her to interrupt you with a laugh.

"he's a regular customer, quite like the two of you," she said, and then looked around at the mess on the counter that were your unorganised math papers. "and he told me to tell you that you only needed to do page ten and eleven of the booklet."

you felt your stomach flip itself upside down.

you had fried your brain for no reason at all, for you'd completed nearly half of the booklet instead of the assigned designated pages. perhaps that would teach you to meddle in business that wasn't yours, you thought you heard megumi grumble from next to you, but you weren't so sure...

not when you'd dropped your head on the table, hopeless.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

megumi and yuji were both traitors. 

during gym class, coach lauren did not seem to mind that you and nobara had migrated to the corner of the gymnasium, gossiping and laughing about who-knows-what. naturally, the class grew quite boring for the two of you, so you'd snuck out and gone to the football field where you knew coach yaga's class would be residing. 

long story short: megumi and yuji both rat you out and coach yaga had kicked the two of you off his field and had you stay with him for detention. 

all. because. of. them.

so in conclusion, the two of you had seated yourselves far, far away from them in any class that you could, which included satoru's physics class.

you were wary not to sit near malakai, who always had something odd to say to nobara. in fact, when she'd come into school with a brighter, new hair-do (no longer the dark colour that you were so used to) malakai had a few things to say... but that was a story for another day. 

now, you only just realised the mistake you had made sitting on the middle table instead of your regular seats. and it was not because of megumi or yuji, no.

it was because of the drama queen that just so happened to be your male, adult, mature teacher: satoru gojo. 

when taking the register, which usually went by pretty quickly, the second he had come to either of your names, he had started an act that made you believe that perhaps he should have been the one taking performing arts as a subject:

"y/n?" he'd called out, looking around the class as if you were not seated across the whiteboard, the first seat on the middle table. 

"here," you said, unfazed. 

"huh — oh!" he said, resulting in the eyes of everyone in your class to look at you as though you'd done something wrong, as though you were malakai, even. "oh, right, y/n... are you new here?"

you scrunched your nose up in something in between confusion and annoyance. what the hell was he talking about? unlike majority of the people sitting in the classroom, this man knew of your existence since you were four years old. what game was he playing?

"you're joking, right?" you said, watching him carefully as he scratched the top of his head and shrugged. "sa—"

"o-kay!" he perked up, rushing through the register with such ease, you hadn't expected him to stop and squint a second time. but he had. "i might get this one wrong so forgive me but... no— nobara? nobara?" he called out, once more, looking up and all around the classroom as though he couldn't see her sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with you.

unlike you, she had a much shorter fuse that he'd lit.

"what's wrong with you?" she demanded, eyes narrowed. "i'm here."

he raised his eyebrows up at her and nodded, muttering to himself. the two of you were both equally confused, and so was the rest of the class, it seemed, if the whispers were anything to go by.

the register had been completed not long after that. you assumed his weird antics would also finish too, but you were proven wrong once the idiot had opened his mouth to address the class again.

"so we have two new students with us today!" he said, excited. "make them feel welcome! their names are... nobara and..." he thought long and hard before looking over at you, tilting his head forward so you could see the terrifying blues that were hiding behind the circular lenses. "hmm... what's your name again?"

your anger simmered like a pot left too long on the stove, bubbling beneath the surface. as you stared back at satoru's clueless expression, it felt like a storm brewing in your chest, thunderclouds gathering with each passing moment. his feigned ignorance was like a slap in the face, a sharp thorn pricking at your patience, igniting the flames of your frustration.

how dare he?

he moved on to teaching the class before either of you got to call him out for his bullshit. 

only for it to slowly get worse as the time went by. 

he was sat at his desk, explaining the slide from the powerpoint that he'd presented on the board with a lazy smile and stretched out legs that resting on a spare chair.

"what's at the centre of an animal cell?" he asked the class, encouraging people to raise their hands.

nobara raised hers, eager to answer.

"new kid!" he said, and when she glared at him, he backtracked. "i mean nobara! — that was scary — what's at the centre of an animal cell?"

"the nucleus," she answered. 

he frowned. "huh?"

she frowned. "the nucleus," she repeated helpfully.

he leaned forwards, a hand cupping his ear. "sorry, i can't hear you, you're too far away."

oh, it made sense now, you thought in your head. he was throwing a fit over the fact that the two of you had chosen to sit in the centre of the room, a little further away from his desk, than at the back table with megumi and yuji, closer to him.

what a diva.

he directed the question to maryam, who sat at the table closest to the door and furthest from his desk.

"you're right! it's the nucleus!" he cheerfully praised her, continuing to teach as though he hadn't just distracted the entire class due to his theatrics. even malakai sensed something was wrong, claiming that 'the darkness is starting to reach the lightness of his hair... it is consuming him', whatever the hell that meant.

it hadn't ended there though, for when the worksheets were being handed out by yuji, he had completely skipped over you and nobara (though he looked quite frightened at doing so). it was no doubt satoru's instructions he was acting on behalf of.

"give it," nobara demanded, standing up and approaching him.

yuji held the papers close to his chest. "but mr gojo said —"

"mr gojo also once said that he's married with thirteen kids, do you believe that?" 

she forcefully snatched two sheets from him, marching back to where she was sat with you and slammed them down onto the table with such force, it shook, your pencil committing suicide off the edge.

"men will be the death of everyone, mark my words," she'd said.

when you raised a hand for help, your pencil clasped in your curled fingers, he asked what happened to gravity and why an inanimate object was suddenly floating. 

that was the last straw for you. 

if he was going to pretend that you had miraculously turned invisible, then you were going to do as you pleased with this ability. pencil still in your tight grasp, you stood up, made eye contact with your childish teacher, and sprinted out of the classroom.

satoru perked up, alarmed as he ordered for help.

"whoever's closest to the door, close it before she —"

you'd already left.

he let out a long sigh, only to raise a brow when you'd returned the second you'd disappeared from view, running across the classroom to take nobara's hand, glance up at your teacher, and say...

"malakai."

— before taking off with your friend, chaos ensuing behind you.

the chaos being malakai emerging from under the sink, arms flailing around himself, eyes rolling to the back of his head, snarling and growling as he shook, only creating more issues for satoru who, everyone knew, hated dealing with the odd emo.

that'd teach him to pretend that you (out of everyone) were invisible.

lesson learned, he thought in his head, letting out a loud and drawn out groan when malakai refused to stop.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

(random tweets cuz i think you guys waited long enough for this chapter to come out, eat well 😁)

(p.s. ignore the date on the tweet, it was meant to say 2017 lmao)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

notes: i'm so tired, gonna take a longgg nap. not my favourite chapter tbh, but it's needed to set the scene for high school because the real part of the story (the one where all the drama starts and stuff) is arriving in less than three chapters!! and we also have a lovely character, important to the plot, to introduce next chapter, so stay tuned my little liars?

previous chapter :)

next chapter :)

taglist (send an ask or comment to be added):

@1l-ynn @shaigimo @shuupiu @myguumi @momoewn @xbarrjallenx @reinaswrld @anintrovertedechoe

© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

[erigold13261]

Hi! I know you’re obsessed with the JJK curses right now, but can I have some HCs about transfem!Kasumi please? (Either OG or Eriverse) (I love this HC but so little ppl have this so…)

Oh sure! Funnily enough, I have been thinking of her a bit whenever I think of Haruta because those two are linked in my head since they swap places in my JJK swap AU. Just two fun but pathetic trans characters hanging around in my mind lol!

I actually do adopt the transfem Kasumi headcanon in both OG JJK and the Eriverse! So she is canon trans in both my iterations!

-Okay, so first one that came to mind was about her hair (OG not Eriverse). I don't know where I read this or if this was someone else's idea that I thought I read in a wiki about Kasumi, but I thought that her mother would dye her hair darker colors to appear more "normal" since her natural blue hair color was a strange phenomenon (like Yuji's pink hair).

I think it would be neat if Kasumi's mother forcibly dyed her hair black/darker colors to try and fit in with society. Kasumi was okay with this for the most part because I can see her having the idea as a kid that blue/blue colors are for boys and so even though Japan still sees darker colors like black as a more masculine color, having black hair would have still been better for her than blue hair for the time.

So for a long time I think Kasumi didn't like her natural blue hair until the whole "of course you have blue hair and pronouns" meme started to get really popular. I can see her learning to love herself through memes like that, that poke a lighthearted spin on gender.

-I see her still dressing in a masculine way (suits, pants, never really wears dresses or more fem presenting items). In both versions of Kasumi I just see her more comfortable in masc clothing than fem clothing, though she definitely went through a phase where she wore nothing but dresses and skirts to try and figure things out.

-I think it would be neat if Eriverse Kasumi could dye her water hair with like regular food dye or whatever simple stuff like that. It would be like wash out hair dye for her. She will play with different colors but during pride month she always does her best to keep the trans colors in her hair (she has to redo the colors every day because they mix together within 24 hours but it's super easy for her to wash out the dye then put in more so it's not a hassle for her to do this).

-You know what, I'm just gonna keep on going on about her hair because she probably sees that as one of her most important parts of her. I like to think she used to have no bangs, so would just part her hair, but got fed up with it one day and just took scissors to her hair and gave herself bangs, which is why her hair is so uneven and choppy. She loved how it looks and now she does her hair all herself and plays with different lengths on different sides all the time!

-I don't see her as a makeup girly. She probably only wears like mascara or something small like that, but I don't see her wanting to wear a lot of makeup. She probably has done makeup nights with Mai and Momo though!

Honestly it would be funny if Todo helped her with her makeup whenever Kasumi actually wants to wear makeup. You KNOW Todo is on top of that shit and knows what he's doing! (also considering most of the girls hates him for just smelling nice or whatever it is, I can see them hating him for also knowing more about makeup than them. At least Momo hates Todo for know more about makeup than her lol).

-I don't think Miwa is the type to really mind about being misgendered by accident. See, Muta is probably someone who gets real upset about being misgendered whether it was an accident or not, and holds onto that upset feeling for a while. Miwa on the other hand is a lot more casual and never holds it against people, even if it's on purpose it really just slides off of her.

Not saying that this is a strong suit of hers or even a good thing. She just has such a low self image of herself that she doesn't think it really matters that people see her one way or another.

-However, that being said, once more and more people started calling her by her preferred gender pronouns and name, she was ecstatic and happy beyond belief! Now she just needs her friends to teach her to be more assertive and to care more about herself and how people treat her (definitely something that Mechamaru is going to try and teach her).

-Don't know if this counts as a trans headcanon or not, but if Kasumi somehow was alive in the Era of Rebirth (she wouldn't be because it is so far in the future) she and Fluttershy would be good friends! I put this hear because I know a lot of people headcanon Fluttershy as also being trans, and while I don't fully subscribe to that headcanon (I do like it though), it just feels neat to add as I think Fluttershy would have a lot to learn about herself and dealing self image issues from Kasumi who, by that point, would have been a lot better at self love.

-Definitely transhet. I don't know why but I don't see her liking girls in a romantic or sexual way. She probably sees them as cute like Momo does, but just prefers guys/masc presenting people.

-If she becomes friends with either Eve or Pav for whatever reason (maybe one of them teach at Jujutsu Tech or something), I can definitely see her asking them to make her hair shorter in an illusion so she can see if she likes it without committing to it. Because she has definitely had impulsive thoughts to just cut all her hair off and start from scratch.

For OG Kasumi, she also has had these impulsive thoughts, but she doesn't have someone like Pav or Eve to do an illusion so she instead just tries to control herself because if she doesn't like her short hair she can't just regrow it back quickly (she wants to be masculine and feminine at the same time, and honestly just wants to be really fluid in her gender while still identifying as a girl. So probably she could be seen as more genderfluid or something like that, but she prefers to just use the trans label and sees herself on the binary).

-Not a trans headcanon, but I kinda see Miwa having reaction problems. Like she has a really slow reaction time, and so she uses her New Shadow Style technique (or whatever it's called) to boost her reflexes. It's not just physical, but also mental slow reaction times. There's definitely been moments where she just doesn't respond to people talking to her directly for a few seconds because she is trying to process what is being said to her.

This has definitely caused her problems in her life, but thankfully the friends she has around her now are pretty used to this and give her all the time she needs (unless it's a seriously dangerous situation, then they kinda push her, but in that situation I see her using her simple domain a lot and so it's not as bad as it could be).

_____________

Okay! That's all I have for now! A lot of these have to do with her hair, and I just think that's pretty neat because I don't think any other trans character I have puts THIS much care into their hair. Like Gwen and 1010 definitely care about their hair, but they also do other stuff in their gender presentation to try and pass/feel right.

Kasumi on the other hand only care about her hair in her presentation. Probably her voice too to be honest, but I can kinda see her having gone on puberty blockers at a young age and small dose hormones with parental consent (in both OG and Eriverse) so that she doesn't actually have to do much voice training to sound more like a girl compared to someone like Gwen who had to do a LOT of voice training to get her voice where she wanted it (or even Zimelu who was just able to physically alter her voice bank).