#why did i have to get obsessed with kitty. why why why.

[wooahoe]

ykw. i’m just gonna say it. i just saw a video where someone said ‘stop gatekeeping korea, especially when people have a genuine interest in it.’ those weren’t her exact words but i think u get the idea.

and you know what? i love that people love korean shit but i also don’t and it’s eating me alive.

i grew up in a pretty heavily ethnically diverse community in the late 2010s. but even then i wasn’t a stranger to kids pulling at the corners of their eyes and making fun of mine, or saying that my food looked disgusting and ‘smelled weird’. kpop was weird, my non-korean friends asked if i was chinese, nobody knew what a kdrama was and nobody wanted to be in a ten mile radius of someone remotely fobby (iykyk)

so to have an animated kids movie, made for people like me? not just a movie catered to the generalized asian population or even only having chinese representation?

i fell in love instantly. the disney princess movie that me and my friends always wanted as a kid was finally here, but even cooler and more badass than we could’ve ever imagined.

but kpop demon hunters has also shown me how far we’ve come from my early childhood.

because nowadays it’s weird. all of a sudden everyone is obsessed with miffy (no, she’s not asian but hell we love her and she’s ours now) and hello kitty and a number of other popular asian characters and i don’t even know how the fuck they found out about them. east asian food isn’t considered weird anymore but something to be sought after. you go to los angeles’ koreatown and there used to be absolutely zero non-koreans there. now? all of the restaurants that sold traditional foods and dishes are gone, replaced by the surge of 외국인s in search of tteokbokki and instant ramen and bbq. there aren’t any koreans in korean restaurants anymore.

which lowk pisses me off. i can’t find good places to eat anymore because all anyone wants is kbbq. traditional dishes are being lost to the appeal of tteokbokki, ramen (which isn’t even korean by the way!), bbq, fried chicken, corn dogs, everything that i never ate as a kid is all of a sudden everywhere, and all of the dishes i love aren’t sold anymore because those restaurants aren’t making any more money and have to close. WE DON’T EVEN EAT THAT SHIT THAT OFTEN GO FIND THE NON-AESTHETIC GOOD STUFF.

and now nearly everything about the korean culture, my culture, has been commodified; whether it’s the food, the clothing styles (both traditional and modern), the music, the media, the makeup, the people, to even the fucking language?

and yeah japan and china have this problem too…but it is definitely not as bad as korea.

look. if you’re into the korean stuff, i don’t blame you. that shit is amazing.

But.

please try not to contribute to the commodification of my culture. i am sick and tired of my livelihood being turned into a fucking “trend”.

in the wise words of kim namjoon: “People in the West just don't get it. Korea is a country that has been invaded, devastated, and torn in two. Just seventy years ago there was nothing. We are getting help from the IMF and the UN. But now, the whole world is looking at Korea. How is that possible how did that happen? Because people are working fucking hard to improve themselves. You are in France or in the UK, countries that have been colonizing others for centuries, and you come to me with, "oh God, you put so much pressure on yourselves, life in Korea is stressful!" Well, yes. That's how you get things done...”

korean culture, whether they live in another country or not, is very fast paced, no time for rest. we call it a 빨리빨리 culture. this is why the idols within the industry never get rest. the rest of the country doesn’t, why should they? like for example, yes, those carats who are always saying woozi is burnt out are right, he probably is. but do you seriously think he’s going to rest? he’s not, because he’s a fucking korean man and y’all don’t fucking realize it.

this is why we have one of the highest suicide rates in the world.

but you also have to realize that korea is losing itself to westernization. it’s not just the choreography or the english words mixed into the songs. korean is losing its fucking language to english loan words. hell, some of the words that i say AREN’T KOREAN. THEY’RE JAPANESE.

look. my point is that i don’t think namjoon is just talking about countries with a history of colonization. he’s talking about people who don’t understand korea because all they want to understand is the mirage of pretty boys and beautiful girls that shine under the global spotlight…not realizing that what they hide is far, far worse than diets and weight loss and company mistreatment.

i’m not asking you to step away from korean culture or media. I’m not asking you to stop being a fan of idols or actors, or to stop enjoying korean food.

all i am asking is that you be mindful. don’t just obsess over the saja boys (yes, yes, they’re hot but remember what they represent. remember why they’re called the saja boys) or your favorite idols, but please remember how hard it has taken us as a people to get here. please don’t acknowledge us just because we’re a fad, but understand where we come from. that means the korean kpop stans and the 교포s.

[townslore]

i love u fidelio magnus.

[confetti-critter]

The night is young and I am free to do whatever my heart desires but unfortunately I have once again found myself trapped in the Time Prison and so I

[cherrysinner]

─── YOU'VE GOT MAIL .ᐟ

...or off-brand gossip girl.

★ pairing.ᐟ frat!rafe x nerd!reader

★ summary.ᐟ rafe cameron is the golden boy of kildare university; certified frat boy, captain of the football team, relentless party animal with lines of girls to sleep with.

reader couldn't be more different; while she has the best grades in the whole school, she suffers from social anxiety disorder, and her social life is limited to her three best friends and the cat she secretly snuck into her dorm room.

both of them decide to join the anonymous chatroom for their campus, and start talking to one another, a friendship starting to form between the two; but neither of them know how different the other is.

★ author's note.ᐟ this is a day late because i was celebrating midsummer with my family yesterday <3 i hope you like it!!

YOU'VE GOT MAIL!

"i was gonna go see her, but when i went to our meeting place, she was there with another guy, and left with him. then when i asked her about it, she lied. so i'm pretty sure he's hooking up with him and i'm the biggest fucking idiot on planet earth."

the gears in vivian's head turned, until the small smile on her lips slowly vanished when she finally realized why the story was so familiar. "holy shit." she mumbled, eyes as wide as saucers, "you're him."

"what?"

"you're MalachiConstant."

"how do you know about that?" rafe asked, his breath catching in his throat, "did she... she told you?"

"wait... you know who she is? like, her real identity?" vivian asked, the moment uncomfortably sobering for rafe, the boy looking away, "why haven't you told her?"

rafe sighs, turning to look out at the scenery in front of him, "you wouldn't get it." "well, stop being melodramatic and try to explain it to me." vivian rolled her eyes, making rafe let out a quiet chuckle.

"i'm afraid she's gonna think i'm a douchebag, or something." "she probably will. she can be judgmental." rafe's brows furrowed, "said with affection." vivian rolled her eyes, "but trust me, she judges herself a lot more than she judges anyone else. and trust me, she's not hooking up with anyone. it's adorably pathetic how obsessed she is with you."

"really?"

"i don't think i've ever seen her smile as much as she has after you two started talking. she's not good with guys, or even people in general but she really seems to like you. i have no idea what she sees in you, to be honest."

"gee, thanks." "but she's been overthinking a lot since you've been ghosting her. she's been going crazy worrying that you don't care about her and she ruined… whatever you two have going on. but rafe, i want you to seriously think this through. she doesn't trust people easily, and i don't want for her to have to go through heartbreak. so if you're just gonna… dump her when you get bored of her… please, just… let her be." vivian brought her hand to his shoulder. "cause if you hurt her, i'm cutting your dick off."

rafe let out a chuckle, nodding, "she... i don't know. she feels like the first person who really gets me. who really knows who i am, and wouldn't judge me." the boy took in a deep breath, "can i… ask you for a favor?" "no promises." "can you just… not tell her yet? just wait a bit until i feel like i can do it." "although i am fond of gossip, it's not my secret to tell." vivian took a chug out of her bottle, "but you should tell her soon. i think she deserves to know the identity of the random guy she's talked online who she's pretty much head-over-heels for. even if it's a douchebag like you." vivian grinned, stepping towards the patio door, "good night, no-longer-mystery guy." vivian's words make the boy snort, "night." he mumbled, the girl leaving the patio, unaware of the girl listening over to the conversation.

you were wrapped up in a blanket, 10 things i hate about you, you and vivian’s shared comfort movie playing on your laptop while angel was in your arms, the little kitty purring as you stroked her soft fur. you looked down at your phone, at all the texts vivian had ignored.

YOU: i'm so sorry.

YOU: i never should've said those things.

YOU: i was hurt and i took it out on you. it wasn't okay, but i hope you know how much i regret it. i miss you.

however, your wallowing in self pity was interrupted when you got a new notification from KildareUChats. you opened the app, your heart beating against your chest when you noticed that MalachiConstant had messaged you after a day of radiosilence.

MalachiConstant: im sorry ive been a dickMalachiConstant: and i miss youMalachiConstant: im drunk but im an idiot

you couldn't help the small smile that took over your lips, your bottom lip caught between your teeth. you kicked your feet against the mattress, letting out a quiet, excited squeal that caught angel's attention, "sorry." you mumbled, pressing a kiss on top of her head, before turning back to your phone, texting MalachiConstant back.

YOU: idiot. ❤️

you woke up to the sound of someone bursting into your room, your heart nearly beating out of your chest, until you noticed the flurry of pink hair entering your room, carrying white boxes that you immediately guessed were donuts.

"jesus, vivian!" you mumbled groggily, running a hand through your messy hair, "you scared me half to death…" "sorry, man." she giggled, putting the donuts down onto your bedside table, "i'm still a bit drunk from a party i went to last night." she crashed onto your bed, turning to look at you.

"i'm sorry about the things i said to you, viv." you frowned at her, your mind still groggy with sleep. the girl smiled, taking your hand in hers. "i'm sorry, too. boys are the stupidest thing to fight about. totally not worth it."

you chuckled softly, "well, speaking of boys…" "oh, god. mystery boy news?" "sorry, we don't have to talk about him if you don't want to." you feel your cheeks getting warm, vivian grabbing the box off the nightstand and placing it between you two; when she opened, your suspicions were proven correct. donuts. "if i'm gonna have to listen to your love life without yacking, i'm gonna need some donuts in me."

RAFE: hey

UNKNOWN: who dis?

RAFE: rafeRAFE: i asked top for your number

UNKNOWN: ok

RAFE: listen, i need some adviceRAFE: should i ask her to meet up again?

UNKNOWN: jesus christUNKNOWN: you asked top for my number for advice on my best friend?

RAFE: pls viv

VIVIAN: fine. then do it loserVIVIAN: and this time don't leave before she can get there. and tell top to not give out my number again.

rafe rolls his eyes and takes in a deep breath, going to KildareUChats, his heart racing in his chest; he types the message and erases it for about a thousand times, before he was finally satisfied with it, pressing enter before he could regret it.

MalachiConstant: hi, i know we were supposed to meet and i kinda fumbled it, but i wanted to ask if you'd be willing to try it again? i get it if it's too late but you can't blame a dude for trying. anyway lmk.

rafe's message was marked 'read' within seconds of him sending it; but several minutes ticked by with no response. maybe you were trying to find a way to let him down easy, or telling him you weren't interested… but soon enough, he got a response.

AnnabelLee: let's do it. monday, at 6pm in front of the fountain?

MalachiConstant: it's a date.

rafe ran a hand through his hair as he reread your message over and over again; he finally felt like he was ready to tell you who he was. even if things change.

monday morning came, but for some reason, you didn't feel nervous at all. if anything, it was like your stomach was bustling with butterflies, and you felt... ready to meet whoever you'd been chatting to online.

your earbuds were in your ears as you made your way towards your first lecture for the day, humming along to fleetwood mac's sara. you spotted vivian and zainab almost immediately, but the two girls didn't seem to notice you, too busy hunched over and looking at something on vivian's phone, giggles echoing around the classroom.

you made your way over to them, and as soon as you pulled your chair back, the two of them looked up at you in complete alarm. you let out a soft laugh, looking between the two with furrowed brows as you sat down, "who died?" but neither of your friends laughed, you started to feel unnerved, "did... did someone actually die?"

vivian and zainab shared a look, before sliding the girl's phone over to you. you picked it up, but as soon as you saw the screen, your blood ran cold. it was a post on KildareUBlindItems, and the subject was 'MalachiConstant'.

"what..."

'overheard at friday's party: football team captain and fraternity president with the initials r.c was telling a certain pink-haired party girl that he's secretly into some chick he met online who he hasn't even met. he goes by MalachiConstant. no one seems to know who the mystery girl is.'

your eyes widened as you re-read the post, starting to put the pieces together... you turned to look to vivian with your jaw clenched in anger, unable to bite your tongue.

"rafe cameron is MalachiConstant? and you knew?"

TAGLIST: @yktayy9669 @tinythebunni @dywho @melalsworld @akobx @samwinchesterisawhore @st8rkey @jjasmiineee @ltristessedureratoujours @a-lovers-card @uselessnewt @lunaleah @letstryagaintomorrow @cinnamqnnlatte @papapoy @kay133sposts @wtfisastiles @butterfly1c @emmiesummers @melodyyybubbles @toomanywhitelies @littl3loveydovey @scne-vampire @alwaysmaybank @mysticbby2009 @luna443 @drewstarkeyswife-7 @flowerluvr @kisselxoll - cont. in com

[kunasthiast]

wagyu nights

you had exactly three things on your to-do-list that monday morning. yes, a monday. satan’s favorite day. the kind of monday where you wake up already annoyed, already hot, already feral. 

number 1. drink your overpriced espresso from starbucks that makes your heart do backflips and your soul exit your body. you only ordered it because that goddamn espresso song’s been living in your head rent-free for weeks. 

number 2. avoid signing another one of gojo’s illegal, morally questionable, legally actionable birthday cards. last time you did, his lawyer called you personally.

number 3. get a tattoo right above your ass crack and surprise your husband like the loving, stable wife you pretend to be in public.

because why the fuck not? 

you were thirty. rich. hot. emotionally stable (depending on the hour). married to that pink-haired demon of a man for five goddamn years – willingly and obsessively. no kids, yet. no regrets. just an unhinged, borderline feral, mutually destructive love story and an ever-growing collection of in-laws and nosy strangers asking, “so when are the babies coming?”

to which you always replied, smiling sweetly, creepily, and with too much eye contact: “we’re practicing really hard.”

and if there’s one thing sukuna adored even more than your face, your attitude, or your uncanny ability to outdrink him at every celebratory orgies of capitalism, it was –

“your fuckin’ back dimples,” he growled that morning, voice still hoarse, from where he lay starfished across your bed. shirtless. legs splayed. tattoos on full display like a fucking warning sign.

you stood in front of the full-length mirror, shirt lifted just enough to peek at your lower back, contemplating the most deranged monday decision possible: a sternum piece? an underboob tat? nah. a fucking tramp stamp.   

“what about them?” you asked absently, twisting for a better view, ass poked out, looking like a possessed girl in an exorcism movie.

his eyes raked over you like you were his personal religion (yes, you are), “they’re my favorite handles.”

“for what?”

“sin. more specifically, you bent over the bathroom counter-sin. five-star tasting menu kinda shit, babe.”

“romantic,” you deadpanned, still deciding between a cybersigilism tat, a cute hello kitty tramp stamp, or that fucking succubus design you’ve been manifesting since last month’s hormonal spiral.

but by the time your fourth sip of espresso kicked in and your third brain cell screamed YOLO – you were already texting yuki for a walk-in.  

because nothing says married life like getting a surprise ass tattoo and flashing it at dinner like a goddamn crackerjack prize. 

by noon, you were half in your sweatpants, wearing his hoodie over a crop top, sunglasses indoors, phone in one hand, car keys in the other. you looked like a rich housewife fleeing a crime scene. 

then, of course, sukuna came out of his office room, voice still scratchy from some hellish meeting (and yes, you definitely heard the phrase “who the fuck approved this?” echoed through the door). tattoos peeked out from under his rolled-up sleeves. he looked good. he always does. dangerously so. and he definitely came out because he sensed the chaos radiating off you like a sixth sense.

“where the fuck you going today, baby?”

you froze mid-sprint at the door.

“uhh… nowhere,” you lied, immediately. “just… errands, love.”

he stared at you.

you smiled.

he squinted harder, “… you only say ‘errands’ when you’re gonna make a dramatic and irreversible decision.”

“what?! noooo! do i look like i make bad decisions?” 

“baby. last time you said ‘errands’ you came home with a cat and a navel piercing. so yes. yes, you do.”

“well, you love both,” you shrugged, opening the door.

he cocked a brow. “i do. but if you come back with a fucking dog, a nipple ring, or another limited-edition cursed item from that thrift store you claim ain’t haunted, we’re gonna have a serious talk, baby.”

“fine,” you grinned, blowing him a kiss.

he narrowed his eyes like a man who knew his wife was about to commit arson, metaphorical or otherwise. “wait. hold up –”

ding.

his phone lit up. followed by another. and another.

“fucking hell,” he muttered, reading whatever fresh corporate nightmare just got dumped on him (his own company = his own chaos = karma’s kiss on the forehead). and just like that – fate (and capitalism) intervened.

“baby, i gotta take this. don’t do anything –”

click.

door’s already closed. too late. 

you were gone. off into the wild, espresso-fueled unknown with a dream, a credit card, and the dangerous confidence of a woman who pays her own bills and gets off on impulsive decisions. 

—

thirty-two minutes later.

yuki took one look at you from her desk and said, “okay, what are we permanently etching into your flesh today?”

“i need something that says crazily in love but also i know where the bodies are buried,” you said, peeling off your hoodie. “thinking tramp stamp. succubus, cybersigilism style. red ink.‘kuna’s initials. maybe a heart in the middle. definitely unholy.”

“hmm, classic monday,” she nodded, already grabbing her ipad to draw it on the spot. “want some glitter drips?”

“yes,” you grinned, too excited for this.

“he’s gonna lose his mind,” you grinned, high off espresso, reckless affection, and the promise of delightful spousal torment.

“in a good way or a divorce way?”

“yes.”

forty-five minutes later.

you were face down, ass-up on yuki’s table, hair in a messy bun, chewing gum like it owed you money.

“‘kay, hold real still,” yuki said, gloves snapping on. “‘bout to tattoo the most feral love note of all time on your ass.”

“god bless,” you whispered, as the buzz of the machine started.

two hours later, your phone buzzed like a possessed bee on the tray next to you. texts. missed calls. a voicemail that probably just said “baby” in ten different emotional tones.

but you ignored it, because sukuna would find out soon enough. and please, your marriage survived worse. like the time you accidentally sexted the family group chat (your side). 

or that time you thought it’d be romantic to surprise him with a homemade dinner, only to somehow set fire to the kitchen and set off the smoke detectors. sukuna waltzed in, unfazed, and ended up effortlessly whipping up a five-course meal in under an hour – leaving you sulking on the couch, watching him plate perfectly cooked dishes while you nursed a glass of wine (your only consolation being the fact that at least you hadn’t set the house on fire. this time). but then, just when you thought he was gonna give you the “i told you so” lecture, he kissed you on the cheek, gave you a hug, and murmured, “still love you, babe.”

anyway, at least the tattoo’s done. and it looks glorious as fuck.

you admired it in the mirror like it was renaissance art. well… satanic, slightly unhinged renaissance art.

a little heart with “R.S” in the middle. glowing red. framed by digital sigils and glittery hellfire drips. you looked like the cover of a cursed y2k CD and it was absolutely iconic. just what you loved.

“i’m never wearing any tops again,” you declared, pulling your sweatpants up.

“he’s either gonna fuck you into next tuesday or call a priest,” yuki said, proud of her work.

“either way, it’s a win.”

—

you didn’t go straight home after the tattoo, obviously. you were an emotionally stable adult woman with needs and responsibilities.

so after the pain and the buzz wore off a little (just for today, obvs), you stopped by paradise. ready for some retail therapy. with a necessary detour to just distract yourself from the inevitable chaos waiting for you at home.

a few hours and a few (more like 5) shopping bags later, you stopped by that place. the one with the overpriced wagyu and the mochi ice cream your husband pretends not to like but always, mysteriously, finishes. it was part guilt on not replying to his texts and calls (fine, maybe 30% avoidance), part instinct, part monday-night tradition. 

he cooks 90% of the time, but random weekdays? random weekdays like monday tonight is for takeout treaty nights.

so you picked up dinner and rolled into the driveway at exactly 9:47PM. full of caffeine, permanent ink, and deeply smug satisfaction. 

your phone buzzed with the energy of a hundred (okay, 50?) unread texts, but you had food in your hand and a hot husband waiting to yell at you (let him fucking try), so life was good.

the moment you stepped in, you immediately announced with maximum dramatic flair, “babyyy, i’m hooooome!” fully expecting to find him in his usual end-of-day poses: brooding in the kitchen, bossing someone around on the phone, or lounging on the couch with black mirror playing on the tv and whisky on hand. 

and, of course – there he was. shirtless, barefoot, and tattoos out, as usual. leaning against the kitchen island with a glass of whisky on his hand and a phone in the other (probs, terrorizing his assistant). his crimson eyes, sharp as ever, were already scanning you with that knowing look. 

“you’re late,” sukuna said as he ended the phone call, voice deceptively calm.

you just grinned, kicking the door closed behind you and waltzing in too happily. “told ya i had errands, baby.”

his eyes flicked to the five shopping bags hanging off your arms like battle trophies. “did you rob a boutique or black out in dior again?”

“bit of both,” you winked, dropped the bags on the floor, placed the takeout on the counter like peace offering, and kissed him on the lips. “got us dinner, daddy.”

he stared at the takeout bag like it was a peace offering from a war criminal he loved deeply, “sweetheart, what’d you do.”

“excuse me?!” you gasped, scandalized.

“you only bring home wagyu and mochi balls together when you’ve done something insane. or need to butter me up for something worse than a felony, sweetheart,” he said, already digging into the bag like wasn’t fully planning on giving you hell for ghosting him all day. “go ahead. confess.”

you just blinked at him. smiled. took the mochi ice cream container and hugged it like it was a baby kitten. “maybe i just missed my emotionally unavailable, incredibly stressed-for-today yet very hot husband and wanted to feed him like the loving wife i am.”

“uh-huh,” he muttered as he raised a brow, unimpressed. “i texted you fifty-two times. called you over twenty.”

“and i saw every single one of ‘em,” you said sweetly, pulling out plates and chopsticks. “and ignored all. with love.”

“obviously, given your non-existent replies.”

“i was processing,” you said solemnly, handing him a plate. “like a baby giraffe. learning how to walk.”

he gave you that look – one that said i both adore and fear you – and took the plate. “tell me you didn’t crash the car.”

“pfft, the car’s fine, babe.” you said.

“tell me you didn’t sign another one of gojo’s birthday cards.”

“why would i –”

he stared. you stared back. and then, just like clockwork, he reached forward and tugged at the hem of his (your) hoodie you were wearing, “baby. what is it.”

“nothing.”

“show me.”

“nope. absolutely not.”

“sweetheart.”

you bit into your mochi dramatically. chewing on it. and then very calmly turned around, lifted up your hoodie, and pulled down your sweatpants just enough to show off the new ink on the small of your back. that fucking succubus red-inked tattoo with his initials. all stylized. deadly cute. 

you didn’t need to look at him to know that he was staring.

sukuna blinked. put down his chopsticks. stared like you just pulled a gun on him. well, obvs  yeah, not literally. 

“oh, fuck,” he muttered after two seconds. 

you pulled your hoodie back down and faced him, still chewing. “like it? so freaking cute, right?”

his voice dropped. low.“you got my fuckin’ initials tattooed on your ass.”

“technically, above it.”

he exhaled like he’d seen god, “baby. what the fuck. ‘course i fuckin’ love it.”

“you’re welcome,” you said sweetly, stealing a piece of his wagyu like a menace.

he stared at you for a beat… then he started laughing. not chuckles. not that fake corporate laugh he does when he’s about to buy out someone’s soul. real, head-thrown-back, unhinged maniacal laughter your husband is capable of.

and then he said, still breathless: “fuck, baby, i love you. but the only position we’re doing for the next month is backshots.”

you picked up another mochi ball, chewed slowly, and said, like a woman casually signing a soul contract, “i mean, that’s all we can do right now anyway. tattoo aftercare, duh. can’t have friction. or—y’know—fluids.”

there was a pause.

“such a sacrifice. i’m selfless like that.”

—

which is how you found yourself bent over the fucking kitchen counter.

ass up. hoodie, crop top, and bra somewhere on the floor. tramp stamp fully on display. and your hot, undeniably feral husband was shoving his thick fucking cock in your pussy like this was his last day on earth. giving you that much deserved backshot. 

“fuck, baby. you’re so fuckin’ tight,” sukuna grunted, his teeth grazing your neck. his hands gripped your hips tightly as he pounded into you from behind, his cock stretching your tight pussy with each thrust. hitting deep and hard, so perfect. 

“mm, fuck yes, more baby more,” you moaned into the marble, eyes fluttering.

and sukuna – god, he was loud. and when he moans? he fucking moans it out. loud, unfiltered, guttural sounds right in your ear. “want more, baby?”

his words sent shivers down your spine, and you arched your back, pushing your ass against him, “mmm, harder, ‘kuna,” you nodded and begged, voice already wrecked.

he didn’t need telling twice. he slammed into you harder, relentless with forceful thrusts that had your tits bouncing with every stroke and making your toes curl. 

“shit, you’re taking me so fucking well, baby.” he growled, one hand found your clit, the other tightening around your hips. “gonna make you cum so fuckin’ hard tonight.”

your moans grew louder as he continued to hammer your pussy, the pleasure building with each powerful stroke, and very determined to make you cum hard on his cock. your moans filled the kitchen, each thrust sending you closer to the edge.

“oh god yes, yes, baby, just like that!” you cried out, feeling your climax approaching rapidly. “i’m cumming, i’m –”

sukuna shoved himself deeper, thick cock buried inside as your pussy clenched around him, milking his shaft for all it was worth. you screamed his name, back aching, and body shaking. 

“fuck baby, i love you!” he groaned, hips stuttering as he came with a loud, filthy growl. his hot seed spilling deep inside you.

you both stayed like that for a moment – breathless, trembling, and fucking grinning in the aftermath of your intense and sukuna’s selfless lovemaking. 

then he smacked your ass and said, with deep reverence, “i fucking love this pussy and that fucking tattoo.” 

“now that’s what i call romance, daddy” you said as you turn your face to look at him. his cock still very much inside you. 

yeah.

that was probably the night it happened.

the one that’d changed your life in about nine months.

but that was future you’s next challenge.

tonight, there was wagyu. mochi. your menacingly feral husband. your very smug tramp stamp. and a kitchen full of bad decisions marinated in love.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

a/n: this is me convincing myself that tramp stamps are fucking sexy and i’m getting them as my next piece of tat this year lol also fuck I need this sukuna in my fucking life – universe, gods, angels… PLEASE hear me out

[yasministration]

Have a taste - Emily Prentiss

Summary: when you explain to emily how one of your exes loved giving you head, she decided that she needs to have a taste warnings: SMUT, oral (r!receiving), face sitting, fwb(?) 1.5k+ wc

Girl's night was missing two crucial members this week, leaving you alone with Emily in her vast living room, staring out her window wall and peering into the night skyline with twin glasses of wine. You were perched on her cloud white sofa, a comfortable silence between you as you delved into each other's personal lives. Clad in soft hello kitty shorts and a mismatching graphic tee, you glanced at Emily, who wore a similarly styled outfit to you, as you asked her the next question.

Somehow, girl's night always found a path towards sex-related conversations, whether is be the dimmed lights in Emily's apartment or your chronic nosiness. Tonight was no different. "Do you prefer sex with men or women?" You inquired, leaning closer to her. To nobody's surprise, Emily had dabbled with both, and would continue to do so for as long as she liked. "Depends on the mood I'm in. Sometimes I want a masculine man to pound into me until sunrise-" She paused at your tipsy giggle, grinning widely before continuing "But otherwise I think I mostly gravitate towards women. They're hot." Another laugh bubbled in your chest at her statement, muttering a joking "Thank you" with a shrug of your shoulders.

Emily downed the rest of her glass of wine before reaching for the bottle again. "Okay, best head you ever got?" She asked blatantly. You hummed, leaning down to put your glass of wine on her coffee table, clapping your hands together. "I dated a guy who was in a band for a while." Emily 'Ooh'ed, tucking her legs under her to make herself more comfortable. "He had this whole look with the messy hair, like nose ring and tattoos going up arms and on the back of his neck. He had an obsession, I think. Could literally wake up on his days off, roll over, and spend hours between my legs. Cooking dinner? Put me on the counter and spread my legs wide open. Checking myself out in the mirror? Got down on his knees behind me and got to work."

"You're lying to me." Emily's reaction was priceless, with her jaw slack, hand frozen around the bottle of wine as she listened to you talk about your ex. When you shook your head with a smile, eyes glinting with mischief, she added

"Well I've got to have me a taste of that pussy."

"Go for it honestly."

She'd meant it as a joke, she really did. A 'oh watch out I like women' type of thing, referring to the straight girls deathly afraid of their queer friends. But now, watching as you shrugged your shoulders carelessly with a chuckle, offering for her to get between your legs and taste what you had to offer, she completely froze.

"I thought you were straight."

"I don't really discriminate between men and women."

"I thought you've never gotten with a girl before."

"I haven't. Doesn't mean I won't."

"So... you'd let me eat you out?"

"Yeah, I don't see why not."

"Are you fucking with me?"

At the shake of your head, Emily put the bottle of wine on the table alongside your glass, crawling over to where you sat on the end of the couch. Emily only stopped when your knees were touching, watching as you consciously straightened up, eyes staring into hers as you worriedly bit down on your bottom lip. "Can I kiss you first?" You nodded, hands falling to Emily's waist as hers went to cup your jaw, leaning in until her lips were grazing yours. She finally pulled you closer so her lips pressed against yours, your mouth falling open to let her slither her tongue in, meeting yours in a passionate dance. Emily expertly took over the kiss, her tongue dominating yours so she could explore your mouth, one hand moving to the nape of your neck to keep you close to her.

Both your hands came up to Emily's chest, pushing her away softly so you could catch your breath, panting softly. If Emily wanted to ease into the act by kissing you, you didn't have a problem with it. You just weren't expecting that. "Okay, let me have a taste then." She spoke again, eyes running over your body. Your nipples were hard, harder than they had been mere moments ago, but she assumed that she just hadn't noticed it before, her senses heightened by her arousal. She had to resist the urge to reach out to pinch them, instead helping you pull your shorts and panties off when you lifted your hips up for her.

"It's probably nothing special." You mumbled, letting Emily guide you so you were leaning back against some pillows, still allowing you a clear view of the woman's movements. Emily scoffed in amusement, laying down in front of you before shuffling forwards until she was close enough to lick your awaiting cunt. She couldn't believe how one question had led to this. The dim lights of her penthouse almost hid the shine of arousal against your skin, but she ran a finger up your slit, collecting your juices before cockily saying "I'll be the judge of that." Emily inhaled deeply, taking in your scent before finally delving into your pussy, arms hooking around your thighs to control their movement.

A moan was immediately heard when Emily ran her tongue up your slit, pushing your puffy lips apart from each other due to the pressure she was applying. You think the moan came from the both of you. "Fuck me." You heard Emily whisper, the movement of her lips against your skin tickling you slightly. Then, she was back to licking, tasting your juices and pressing hard against your clit with her tongue. Your toes curled slightly, hips bucking when your clit sent little shocks of pleasure up your body. Emily grunted, pushing your thighs apart to get more space between them, separating from you slightly so she could spit directly onto your pussy, emitting a loud gasp from you.

Her fingers were on you then, massaging her saliva onto your clit before she latched on again, this time sucking on the sensitive nub. You keened loudly, hands instantly securing in her brown hair as your thighs instinctively tried shutting around her head. Emily allowed it this time, nails making little crescents on the skin at the top of your thighs as she tried getting impossibly closer to your cunt, messily making out with it as she alternated between sucking on your clit and thrusting her tongue into your entrance.

You were convinced she would suffocate just then.

Alas, Emily suddenly pulled away from you, her mouth and chin wet from your arousal as she begged. "I need more. Sit on my face." Your eyes widened at her suggestion, beginning to shake your head as you mutter "I've never-" But she was already frantically tugging your t-shirt off and laying down on her back, hands on your thighs guiding you to mount her. You found yourself letting her direct you over her face, grabbing at the arm of the couch as you tried slowly lowering yourself onto her. Emily wasn't having any of that though, hands on your hips aggressively pulling you down on her face so her nose instantly hit your clit, making you cry out in pleasure.

Changing her technique, Emily thrusted her tongue into your hole repeatedly, hands dragging you back and forth on her face, encouraging you to grind down on her. That's what you did, letting the woman sloppily tongue at your cunt while she reached up for your tits, immediately tweaking your nipples between your fingers. She groped your tits with purpose, alternating between massaging the fat of your breasts and pinching and twisting at your sensitive nipples until you were panting, eyebrows scrunching up while telling her "'M so close. So close Em." Your words encouraged her to go faster, one hand falling from your breast to your hip so she could drag you where she wanted you, lips immediately closing around your clit to suck harshly.

Emily's hand immediately returned to groping your tit, and paired with the aggressive pleasure on your clit, she immediately had you coming, legs closing around her head while you came down from your high. Emily continued lapping at your pussy, hands dropping to rest on your ass where she rubbed your skin gently until you were bucking your hips away from her, whispering "Em, 's too much."

The girl finally stopped, slowly helping you un-straddle her face. She sat up next to you on the couch, arm wrapping around your waist while she leaned in close to you, asking delicately "Was that okay for you?" You nodded, turning your head before leaning into her slightly, staring at her lips. Emily grinned, pecking your lips gingerly before stating "I am a whole mess over here." You chuckled, grabbing tissues from the table to start wiping your juices off her face when she stopped you, adding playfully "And by the way, sweetest pussy I've ever tasted."

[jungkoode]

𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐌𝐄 𝐔𝐏 | 18

˗ˏˋ on your kneesˎˊ˗

"He didn't picture himself ever begging for pussy... but alas, here he is."

next | index

⋆｡°✩ chapter details ✩°｡⋆

word count: 8,7k

content: wet sloppy kissing, jungkook being too horny for his own good, vibrator usage, masturbation (f), jerking off while eating kitty (idk what possessed me but i had to), vanilla kink (are we surprised), begging, slight praise kink, comfort, endearing moments, these two being stupid as always, post-orgasm sharing bed (yeah sleeping together), thinking about maybes.

✧ author's note ✧

LISTEN. You’re so lucky I have multiple FMU chapters backlogged right now, because if I didn’t? I would have thrown an actual tantrum, declared a two-week hermit arc, and told you all to fuck off while I moved to the mountains. BUT. Thankfully, I’ve written up to around Chapter 23-ish and just need to edit, so you can all calm the hell down.

First of all, no—I still haven’t updated the update post, because I’ve been too busy prepping this chapter for release. I’ve had zero time to sit and ponder. That said, the only valid suggestion I’ve gotten so far is to keep the Tumblr note goal but ALSO require the Wattpad goal to be hit—so that’s what we’re trying this time around.

Also—BIG ANNOUNCEMENT—we now have an official Kiki Nation Community on Tumblr (yay!). That’s where you little gremlins can finally scream together in one place, throw theories at each other, and insult Jungkook and Nix in a safe, protected space. (Mainly Jungkook. Because he’s a man. And this is a matriarchy. HUSH.)

So please check it out! Join, comment under the official Chapter 18 discussion post, and if you feel inspired to make a meme or TikTok or post your spiral—DO IT. If it makes me laugh, I will absolutely reblog it.

NOW. About this chapter.

BAHAHA. Okay. First of all—I am so proud of the kiss. I wanted it to be sloppy and wet and messy and borderline excessive, and I think I delivered. It’s so long. I really put my whole kikussy into it.

And of course… it was time. The vibrator had to make its appearance. It’s literally law. I don’t make the rules (but I do).

Also: Rogue begging. crawling. STILETTOS. Why did I like this chapter so much. It was delicious. I love sexually down bad men. Wait until he’s romantically down bad. It’s going to be so satisfying. Trust me.

And the ending?? Made me soft. Actual progress?? Kind of??? They’re still filthy, but they’re also edging toward something stupidly endearing and I hate how much I love that. The way this story is progressing is so slow-burn it makes my bones hurt, but I’m obsessed with it. We are maybe… possibly… inching toward friendship territory. MAYBE.

I’m really looking forward to the next chapters—soon, we’ll meet a new LI on Jungkook’s side (YES!). Things are gonna get messy (eventually). Reminder: they have zero romantic feelings right now. ZERO. What you’re seeing is just… subconscious tension, subtle shifts. We’re nowhere near falling.

So please. I beg you. If I start getting asks about them being in love, I will throw my laptop out the window and revoke my dictatorship. Don’t test me.

Enjoy the chaos. Let me know how hard you spiraled. Love you forever.

OH. I said it before but I will say it again. This chapter is entirely based on the song "get on your knees" by Ariana Grande and Nicki Minaj so. Do with that what you will. Listen to it. Enjoy.

⋆｡°✩ read on✩°｡⋆

ao3

wattpad

His kiss tastes like four days of wanting.

Your back hits the wall as his mouth crashes into yours—not gentle, not careful, just hungry. Like he's been starving for the taste of you since Tuesday. 

His tongue traces the seam of your lips, a question that isn't really a question at all, because you both know how this ends. You part your lips anyway, granting him access because denying him feels like denying yourself.

His hand comes to rest on your neck, thumb pressing lightly against your pulse point. It's a strange, suspended gesture—like he can't decide whether to pull you closer or hold you exactly where you are. The indecision is so unlike him that it makes your stomach flip.

Then his tongue flattens against yours, and any thoughts of indecision evaporate. He's not kissing you so much as he's tasting you, licking your flavor directly from the source. The sensation is filthy and intimate as his other hand comes to your cheek, fingers splaying across your skin, holding you in place for his exploration.

"Fuck," he breathes against your mouth, the word more vibration than sound. "Missed this."

Not you. This. 

The distinction matters, even as his tongue circles yours in a slow, deliberate drag that makes your knees weak. He's coating himself with your saliva, savoring you like you're some expensive whiskey he's been saving for a special occasion.

You should probably be grossed out by how wet this kiss is, by how thoroughly he's claiming your mouth.

Instead, you find yourself pressing closer, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

Because this is what you've been missing too—not him, not really, but this. The way he makes your body respond without even trying. The way he kisses like he's trying to memorize the taste of you.

And then his lips close over yours—soft but firm—like finishing the kiss just to start it all over again. Chained kisses. One bleeding into the next, seamless and endless.

You follow him because how could you not? The way he kisses—it’s not just skill; it’s instinct. Like he knows exactly what to do to keep you hooked, alternating between tongue and lips so perfectly that you never get tired of either. 

Not that you could ever tire of him. 

You’re pretty sure you could never erase the way he kisses—or fucks—from your mind even if you wanted to.

Maybe it’s him knowing what he’s doing. Or maybe it’s just the two of you—two mismatched pieces of completely different puzzles that somehow fit together anyway. 

Just like your mouths do now.

Just like when your tongue darts out to lick at his lower lip in a kitten lick that has him hitching against you, a small, desperate sound escaping his throat. His hips stutter against yours like his body is telling you to stop messing around and get your tongue back inside his mouth where it belongs.

So you do.

You push forward, tongue meeting his again in a slick slide that has him groaning into your mouth. Then you close your lips to transition into another kiss and he follows, tongues forgotten for three, four open-mouthed kisses before he’s lost patience.

He moves his tongue against yours, seeking more, always more. Because when it comes to you, Jungkook is just this eager.

But this time you catch it. Suck it into your mouth in a soft suction that makes him freeze for half a second before his hand tightens on your neck. 

And the sound he makes?

Undiluted filth.

It spurs you on.

You suck harder, dragging your lips down his tongue before releasing him with a soft pop that leaves both of you panting against each other’s mouths. He doesn’t let the pause last long—doesn’t let you last long—and dives back in with a hunger that feels less like kissing and more like consuming.

Tongues forgotten for other five or six kisses as his lips move against yours with bruising intensity—open-mouthed and messy—but he easily grows impatient and his tongue is soon back, sliding against yours like he wants it there.

You catch it once more—suck it again—and the way his hips jerk against yours tells you everything you need to know about how much he likes it.

Filthy sounds fill the space between you: wet kisses, soft moans, the occasional hitch in his breath when you do something particularly good with your tongue.

And when his teeth graze your lower lip before pulling back just enough to look at you?

You realize there’s no winning here—not for either of you—because this isn’t about who takes control or who gives in first.

It’s about this. About mouths fitting together perfectly even though nothing else about this situation should make sense. About tongues sliding together and lips bruising from too much pressure but neither of you caring because fuck—it feels good.

It feels better than good.

It feels addictive.

Your back hits the table near the entryway, and honestly? You never thought a piece of furniture could be an accomplice in your bad decisions, but here you are. Pressed against the entryway table. The one that holds your keys, Yoongi's forgotten mail, and now, apparently, your dignity.

Jungkook hasn't stopped kissing you—not for air, not for sanity, not for anything resembling common sense. It's like he's on a mission to consume you entirely, starting with your mouth and working his way through the rest of you.

These are not the kisses you exchange with people you tolerate. These are not even the kisses you exchange with people you like. These are the kisses of people who might actually hate each other but have found a much more interesting way to express it.

Your lower back presses against the edge. Hard wood digs into soft flesh, and you're about to complain when—

Fuck.

He lifts you. One hand. One fucking hand curves under your ass and hoists you onto the table like you weigh nothing, while his other plants itself firmly on the wood beside your hip. The display of casual strength makes something molten pool in your stomach.

Unfair. Completely unfair how stupidly hot he makes stupid things look. Lifting you shouldn't be attractive. It's basic physics, not foreplay. But your brain has apparently liquefied, pouring out your ears while he steals the oxygen straight from your lungs.

"Fuck, Nix," he mutters against your mouth, the words more vibration than sound. "Been thinking about this for days."

His mouth is relentless—wet, demanding, precise in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. He sucks your lower lip between his teeth and—god—applies just enough pressure to sting, like he's trying to extract something essential from you. Like he needs to squeeze you dry, drain you of whatever it is that keeps him coming back.

Didn't even know your bottom lip was an erogenous zone until Jungkook decided it was.

It's too much. The heat, the closeness, the way he seems to have forgotten where you are, who you are.

You push against his chest—not hard, just enough to create a sliver of space between your bodies.

"Jesus Christ," you gasp, chest heaving. "Let me breathe, you animal."

He grins at that—a scorching, self-satisfied smile that makes you want to either slap him or pull him back in.

Maybe both.

He bites his lower lip, swollen from your kisses, and immediately leans back in like your need for oxygen is a minor inconvenience to his plans.

Your palm against his chest stops him, firm this time.

"Wait," you say, voice rough.

Not because you want to stop—god no—but because your brain is finally catching up to your body. And there's something you want. Something specific.

His eyes find yours, dark and questioning. Patient, despite the hunger radiating off him in waves. He's holding himself back, you realize. Letting you dictate what happens next.

Your eyes drop, hair falling across your face as you gather your thoughts, your courage. When you look back up at him through your lashes, his breath catches audibly.

"Bring me the vibrator you chose for me."

His reaction? Pretty funny. Like watching a computer crash and reboot. His entire body goes still—processing, processing—then his eyes widen a fraction. He blinks once, twice, tension visible in the way his jaw ticks.

"What?" he asks, voice cracking slightly.

Something about his reaction makes hot satisfaction curl through you. You like throwing him off balance. Like matching his chaos with your own.

"The vibrator," you repeat, slower this time, savoring each syllable. "The one you picked out. Go get it."

His eyes dart toward your bedroom door, then back to your face. For a moment, you think he might refuse. Might challenge you. But then:

"Yeah," he nods jerkily, already stepping back. "Yeah, I will."

"Will you?" you press, because you can't help it. Because you like the way his pupils dilate when you push.

"Fuck yeah," he breathes, already moving toward your bedroom with a kind of urgent, stumbling grace that would be comical if it weren't so hot.

You watch him go, breathing still uneven, lips still tingling. 

And you think—not for the first time—that there's something dangerously addictive about the way Jungkook responds to you. The way he matches your energy, then amplifies it, reflecting it back at you until you're both caught in some kind of feedback loop of bad ideas and worse self-control.

Roommates with benefits, you remind yourself. That's all this is.

But as you hear him rummaging through your things, drawers opening and closing with increasing urgency, you can't help but wonder if "benefits" is too mild a word for whatever the fuck is happening between you two.

He sprints.

Jungkook doesn't walk to your room—he fucking jogs, like the vibrator might disappear if he doesn't get there fast enough.

Like this moment has an expiration date he can't afford to miss.

No shame. Not a single ounce of it as he bursts through your door, scanning the bedroom impatiently. The same room he's been in a couple of times, but never with this specific mission, never with this frantic energy coursing through his veins.

Where the fuck would a girl keep her vibrator?

No. Not a girl. You. Where would you hide it?

Under the pillow?

He lifts the edge of your pillowcase, peeks beneath it. Nothing. Definitely not there—you like sleeping too much, and having a hard plastic toy jabbing into your cheek all night would be uncomfortable as hell. You're smarter than that.

The wardrobe?

He eyes the wooden doors across the room, considering.

No way. Too far from the bed. You're too practical for that kind of inconvenience. If you wanted to get off, you wouldn't want to climb out of bed and trek across the room.

His eyes land on the nightstand. Bingo.

The drawer slides open with a soft sound. First thing he sees: a messy stack of panties, some lacy, some cotton, all of them instantly triggering mental images he doesn't have time for right now.

He fights—really fights—against the urge to pick one up. To feel the fabric between his fingers, to imagine it hugging the curves he's already memorized with his hands, his mouth. Maybe even bring one to his nose...

Focus, dickhead.

Pushing the underwear aside (what? sue him for wanting to fuel his imagination), his fingers brush against something solid. Hard plastic. Smooth curves.

There it is.

He pulls it out, a triumphant grin spreading across his face as he examines his find. It's exactly as he remembers from the store—sleek, purple, designed for both internal and external stimulation.

Still in its original packaging, which means you haven't used it yet.

Something jittery and hot coils in his stomach at the thought of being the first to see you use it.

He grips it tighter, already imagining what it'll look like pressed against you, already wondering if you'll let him control it or if you'll insist on doing it yourself.

Either way, he's about to witness something fucking spectacular, and his body knows it. His cock strains painfully against his jeans as he heads back to you.

He takes a deep breath before rounding the corner from the hallway.

Tries to center himself, to cool down just a little.

To not look as desperate as he feels.

But then—

Fuck.

The vibrator nearly slips from his suddenly sweaty palm.

You're naked on the table. Completely, gloriously naked except for those high heels that make your legs look like they go on for fucking miles. The dress is gone—discarded somewhere on the floor—and your panties dangle precariously from one ankle like an afterthought.

One leg bent at the knee, heel resting lazily on the wooden surface. The other straight up, creating a perfect right angle that showcases everything he's been craving since the moment he walked through the front door.

And your hand—Christ—your hand is between your thighs, fingers drawing lazy circles over your clit.

His eyes stutter back to one thing though.

The heels.

What is it about the fucking heels?

He's never particularly cared about shoes before, but something about the way they elongate your legs, the way they make your calves flex, the dangerous point of those stilettos against the wooden table-it's doing something to him. Something unexpected and intense.

He nearly stumbles. Actually has to catch himself on the wall because his knees go weak at the sight of you touching yourself, waiting for him, spread open on the goddamn entryway table like the world's most perfect welcome home gift.

His grip on the vibrator tightens until his knuckles go white. He forces his face into something resembling control—a smirk, he hopes, though it feels more like a grimace of restraint.

"Needed it that badly?" he manages, trying to sound casual and cool, though he guesses he fails spectacularly at that.

Your eyes meet his, challenging. "Didn't you?"

The question catches him off guard, but he doesn't falter. Not much, anyway. Just a slight hitch in his breathing that he hopes you didn't notice.

"Yeah," he admits, the word barely audible. Then, louder: "Yeah, I did."

He starts walking toward you, vibrator clutched in his hand, but you stop him with a single raised palm. The universal sign for wait.

"Crawl to me."

His feet halt. He opens his mouth. Closes it.

What?

"What?" he asks, not sure he heard correctly.

"You heard me." Your fingers never stop their gentle circles. "Crawl."

He doesn't know why he does it. Doesn't pause to analyze why the command sends a jolt of electricity straight to his cock.

He just... does it.

Drops to his knees, then to all fours, the vibrator still clutched in one hand.

Maybe it's the novelty—you taking control like this when usually he's the one calling the shots.

Maybe it's the way your eyes darken as you watch him approach, like seeing him on his knees for you is doing something for you too.

Or maybe—most likely—it's just the promise of getting his head between those fucking glorious thighs again.

Whatever the reason, he crawls to you across the hardwood floor, too turned on to care about how it looks, too desperate to worry about his dignity. All he can think about is how wet you'll be, how good you'll taste, how he wants to make you come on his tongue before introducing the vibrator.

He's almost there—close enough to smell you, close enough that if he stretched forward just a bit, he could press his mouth to your inner thigh—when the sharp heel of your stiletto plants firmly against his forehead.

The pressure isn't hard enough to hurt, just enough to stop his forward momentum. To keep him back.

He looks up at you, disbelief warring with arousal.

Surely you're joking?

There's no way you're genuinely stopping him when he's this close, when you're this wet, when everything about this moment has been building toward his mouth on you.

Right?

"The vibrator," you say, extending your hand, heel still pressed lightly to his skin. "Give it to me."

His throat works as he swallows, suddenly parched. "Don't you want me to—"

"The vibrator, Ro."

The nickname, combined with the firm tone, makes his cock make a mating dance against the zipper of his jeans. He places the toy in your outstretched hand, watches as you examine it with curious eyes.

You turn it over in your palm, studying it like it's a puzzle to solve. Your brow furrows slightly as you locate the power button, press it experimentally, and soon enough its low hum fills the space as the toy comes to life, vibrating gently in your hand.

"I've never used one before," you admit, and he already knew.

You told him that much before buying it.

Nonetheless, the idea that he gets to witness this first for you—it does something to him.

Makes him feel special in a way he has no right to feel.

"Let me help," he offers, voice strained. "I can show you how—"

"I think I can figure it out," you interrupt, but there's uncertainty in your eyes as you look at the different buttons, the various settings.

Fuck, you're adorable. Even spread-eagle on a table with a vibrator in your hand, there's something so endearing about your determination to figure this out on your own.

He watches, mesmerized, as you press another button. The vibration intensifies, making you jump slightly at the change. Your finger slips, pressing yet another button, and suddenly the toy is pulsing in a rhythm that has him imagining it pressed against you, imagining your reaction to that particular pattern.

He can't take it.

"Here," he says, reaching up, a bit desperate, a tad impatient. "May I?"

After a moment's hesitation, you nod, removing your heel from his forehead and allowing him to rise up on his knees. He takes the vibrator from you, quickly familiarizing himself with the controls.

"This button cycles through the patterns," he explains, demonstrating as the toy shifts from steady vibration to pulsing to waves. "And this one controls the intensity."

He presses it, the vibration becoming stronger under his thumb.

"Start low and work your way up."

He hands it back to you, then you glare at him and okay, he immediately settles back on his heels, waiting. Watching. Fucking aching to see what you do next.

You take the toy, reset it to the lowest steady vibration, and then—God help him—you bring it to your breast first. Circle your nipple with it, eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

"Fuck," he breathes, the word barely audible over the hum of the vibrator. 

He shifts on his knees, trying to adjust himself without being too obvious about it. His jeans have become a torture device, constricting him painfully as he watches you explore.

The vibrator trails down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He can see them form on your skin, can see the way your muscles tense in anticipation as the toy moves lower, lower—

And then it's there, pressed against your clit, and the sound you make—a soft, surprised gasp followed by a deeper moan—nearly ends him.

"Good?" he asks, voice wrecked.

You nod, eyes still closed, hips already starting to move against the vibration. "Good. Really good."

He leans forward instinctively, mouth watering at the sight of you pleasuring yourself. He wants to taste you, wants to feel the vibrations against his tongue as he licks around the toy.

Wants to be part of this moment in a way that's more than just watching.

But as he moves closer, your eyes snap open, fixing him with a look that stops him cold.

You extend your leg, the one that was dangling off the table, pressing the point of your stiletto against his chest this time.

"Just watch," you command, voice breathy but firm.

He blinks, sure he's misheard. "What?"

"I said watch." You adjust the vibrator slightly, finding a better angle that makes your breath hitch, toe of your shoe pressing more firmly against his sternum. "Don't touch. Just... watch me."

Is he dreaming? Having some kind of bizarre hallucination? There's no way you're asking him to just sit here while you get yourself off right in front of him.

No fucking way.

"You're joking," he says, but the steady look in your eyes tells him you're not. "Nix, come on. You can't expect me to—"

"I can," you interrupt, increasing the vibration intensity with a press of your thumb. The change makes you gasp, hips lifting slightly off the table. "And I do."

He blinks, eyebrows tugging upwards in a cross motion. "Do you want me to bust untouched? Is that it? Because that's cruel, even for you."

A smile curves your lips, mischievous and knowing. "Maybe I just want to see if you can behave for once."

"I behave," he protests, even as his eyes remain fixed on the vibrator, on the way it glides through your wetness, on how your thighs have started to tremble already.

On those fucking shoes that, for some inexplicable reason, are making this whole situation at least ten times hotter.

"Prove it," you challenge, and fuck—he's never been able to resist a challenge from you.

Never really been able to back down when you push him like this.

So he stays where he is, on his knees, hands fisted at his sides, watching as you explore the toy, as you find what feels good, as you experiment with different patterns and pressures. Your foot still rests against his chest, not pushing him away now, just... there.

A point of contact that feels both like ambrosia and agony.

It's torture. Beautiful, exquisite torture to be this close and not touch you. To smell your arousal and not taste it. To hear your moans growing louder and know he's not the direct cause.

But it's also—strangely, unexpectedly—one of the hottest things he's ever witnessed.

Because you're not performing for him. You're genuinely discovering what you like, what makes you feel good. And there's something incredibly intimate about being allowed to witness that, about being trusted enough to see you this vulnerable, this real.

"That's it," he encourages as your movements become more focused, as you settle into a rhythm with the vibrator that has your breathing turning shallow. "Just like that. You look so fucking good, Nix."

Your eyes meet his, heavy-lidded but alert, and for a moment, he can’t help but stare back.

Then you close your eyes again, lost in the sensation as the vibrator buzzes steadily against your clit. Your free hand comes up to your breast, pinching your nipple in time with the pulsations of the toy, and he groans at the sight. 

Your foot presses harder against his chest, whether intentionally or as an unconscious reaction to your growing pleasure, he doesn't know.

Doesn't care.

"Cruel," he mutters, because he needs to at least let you know. “You're fucking cruel, you know that?"

His eyes are fixed on your pussy like it's the only thing in the universe worth looking at. Maybe it is. The way you're working that vibrator against yourself, the little circular motions, the way your hips lift occasionally when you hit just the right spot—it's driving him fucking insane.

His dick is so hard it hurts at this point, and he thinks it's going to start a mutiny. He shifts his weight, trying to get some relief, but it only makes things worse. His forehead thumps against the corner of the table in frustrated surrender.

"God fucking hell," he groans, the wood cool against his skin. "Nix, I need to lick you. Please. Just—let me taste you."

You look down at him, eyes heavy-lidded but gleaming with amusement. Your stiletto traces a path down his chest, and when it reaches his stomach, you press slightly, the point digging into the muscle there. 

A warning. 

A tease. 

He's not sure which, but it makes his cock throb painfully either way.

"What was that?" you ask, lifting the vibrator just enough that he can see how wet you are, how your pussy glistens in the low light. "I didn't quite hear you."

Fucking tease. Fucking gorgeous, evil tease.

"I said I need to lick you," he repeats, louder this time, pride completely abandoned. "Let me put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good."

You pretend to consider it, tilting your head like you're weighing your options. Meanwhile, he's about to combust from the inside out.

"I don't know," you muse, trailing the vibrator up to circle around your clit, making yourself gasp. "I'm doing pretty well on my own, don't you think?"

Your stiletto moves again, tracing along the inside of his thigh. He tenses, breath catching as it moves higher, closer to the straining bulge in his jeans.

“Phee,” he bites back a groan. "You're doing amazing. Fucking incredible. But I can make it better. You know I can."

"Hmm." You press the vibrator directly against your clit again, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before fixing back on him. "Maybe if you ask nicely."

Is this really happening? Are you really making him beg? His cock twitches at the thought, answering that question with an emphatic yes.

He swallows, throat dry.

"Please," he says, voice rough. "Please let me help."

The word lies suspended between you. 

Please. Such a simple word, but one he doesn't use often—not like this, not with this much raw need behind it.

Your eyes widen slightly, like you weren't expecting him to actually do it. To actually beg. But then a slow smile spreads across your face, and you nod.

"Since you asked so nicely," you say. "Go ahead."

He doesn't need to be told twice. He surges forward, hands gripping your thighs, spreading them wider as he buries his face against you.

The first swipe of his tongue makes you both moan—you from the sensation, him from finally, finally getting to taste you.

You taste amazing.

Like always.

Like something he could get addicted to if he's not careful.

"Fuck," he groans against you, the word vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "So fucking good."

He could honestly cum like this. Right now. Just from the taste of you on his tongue, from the way your thighs tense around his head, from the little gasps you make. 

He knows he's got blue balls at this point. Knows his cock is probably leaking precum into his boxers, making a mess he'll have to deal with later. But he doesn't really care.

Until you kind of make him care.

"Jerk off."

He freezes, tongue mid-lick.

Did he hear that right?

Looking up at you, genuinely confused, he asks, "What?"

Your answer is a knowing smile and a slight increase in pressure as the heel traces the outline of his cock through the denim. Not enough to hurt, just enough to make him incredibly aware of how hard he is.

"I want you to get yourself off while you eat me out, Ro."

Jesus Christ.

When did you get so fucking bossy? And why is it turning him on so much?

"Yeah," he says, almost to himself, fumbling with his zipper. "Yeah, okay, absolutely I can do that."

His hands shake slightly as he undoes his jeans, shoving them and his boxers down just enough to free his cock. It springs up against his stomach, hard and flushed and so sensitive that even the brush of air against it makes him hiss.

"Shit," he warns, wrapping a hand around himself, already knowing this isn't going to last long. "Just a heads up, but this might be embarrassingly short."

You laugh, the sound turning into a gasp as he dives back in. Your leg dangles over his shoulder now, heel pressing slightly against his back.

"That's okay," you manage to say between breaths. "I'm pretty close too."

Thank fuck for that. Because the moment his hand starts moving on his cock, he knows he's on borrowed time.

The vibrator hasn't stopped. That's the thing that's driving him absolutely fucking insane. You've got it pressed right against your clit, humming on its lowest setting while he licks at your lips, tasting every inch of you except the one spot you're keeping for yourself.

It's maddening.

It's genius.

It's the hottest thing he's ever experienced.

His tongue traces your entrance, dipping just slightly inside before retreating to lick broad strokes along your folds. He's taking his time despite his own desperation, despite the way his hand is working his cock at a steady, measured pace.

Because he wants this to last, wants to savor the privilege of having his face between your thighs while you take your pleasure so confidently.

"More," you breathe above him, and he's not sure if you're talking to him or yourself.

But then your fingers move, pressing a button on the vibrator, and the hum intensifies. The sound changes pitch, grows deeper, more insistent. Your hips jerk in response, a gasp falling from your lips that sends blood rushing to his already throbbing cock.

His fist tightens instinctively, pace quickening to match the vibrator's new rhythm. It's like his body is syncing with the toy, with your pleasure, his own arousal tied directly to yours.

"Fuck, Nix," he groans against you, the words muffled but still audible. "You're so fucking wet. So fuckin’ good, I swear—I swear I could do this for hours.”

“But you won’t last hours,” you tease, rolling your hips against his face. “Will you?”

He shakes his head, not even bothering to deny it. Not when his balls are already drawing up tight, not when each stroke of his hand brings him closer to the edge.

“Nngh—no,” he admits, the word punctuated by a particularly firm stroke that has his hips bucking into his fist. “Not gonna—ah—not gonna last long at all.”

Because the truth is, he’s dizzy with it—your taste, your scent, the sounds you're making above him. It's overwhelming in the best possible way, a sensory overload that makes his cock pulse in his grip, precome slicking the way as his fist moves faster, more urgently.

You shift the vibrator slightly, angling it for better contact, and your free hand finds his hair. Fingers tangle in the strands, not quite pulling but definitely directing, holding him exactly where you want him.

"Inside," you command, voice breathless but clear. "I want your tongue inside me."

He doesn't hesitate. Doesn't even think. Just obeys, tongue pushing past your entrance, delving into the wet heat of you while the vibrator continues its relentless assault on your clit.

The angle is awkward, his neck craned to accommodate both the toy and his mouth, but he doesn't care.

Can't care about anything beyond the way you clench around his tongue, the way your thighs tremble against his cheeks, the way your grip tightens in his hair.

His cock throbs in his hand, so sensitive now that each stroke sends sparks shooting up his spine, and fuck he's close—so fucking close—but he's determined to make you come first. Wants to feel you pulsing around his tongue, wants to experience every tremor of your orgasm firsthand.

Above him, your breathing has grown ragged; little gasps and moans that tell him you're getting close too.

"Don't stop," you gasp, basically riding his face at this point. "God, don't stop."

As if he would.

As if he could tear himself away from this even if the building were on fire.

Your thighs start to shake in earnest now, little tremors that grow stronger by the second. The hand in his hair clenches, your stiletto digs into his back, the pressure increasing as your body tenses, and now he just knows; knows how close you are to the edge.

It makes his strokes faster, more desperate.

“Shit,” he gasps, pulling back for air. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Don’t stop,” you command, lost in a whine. “Don’t you dare stop.”

And he feels it the moment you start to come—the way your inner walls flutter around his tongue, the sudden flood of wetness, the sharp cry that tears from your throat. His name, maybe. Or just a sound of pure pleasure. He's too far gone to tell the difference.

But it doesn't matter. What matters is that you're coming on his tongue, coming while he tastes you, while the vibrator buzzes against your clit, while his cock throbs in his hand, so close to his own release that he can feel it building at the base of his spine.

He pushes his tongue deeper, wanting to feel every pulse, every contraction of your orgasm. The vibrator keeps buzzing, prolonging the sensation, pushing you higher and higher until your hand finally yanks at his hair, pulling him back when it becomes too much.

"Fuck," you gasp, voice wrecked, vibrator still humming in your grip though you've pulled it away from your oversensitive clit. "Fuck, Ro."

The sound of his nickname—that stupid nickname you’ve given him—paired with the sight of you flushed and trembling from an orgasm he helped create, is what does it. What finally pushes him over the edge.

His release hits him then, stealing his breath as his cock pulses in his hand, spilling onto the hardwood floor in hot spurts that seem to go on forever.

He groans against your thigh, face pressed into the soft skin there as his hips jerk, chasing the last waves of pleasure.

“Ffff—shit,” he slurs as he strokes himself through the aftershocks. “Holy sssh—oh—fuck… Ahhh.”

For a moment, there's nothing but the sound of breathing, harsh and uneven. The vibrator still hums softly, forgotten in your hand until you fumble for the off button, plunging them into sudden silence.

Jungkook rests his forehead against your thigh, trying to catch his breath, trying to remember how to form coherent thoughts.

His hand is sticky, his knees ache from the hardwood floor, his back tingles from the trail your heel left across it, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never be able to look at the entryway table the same way again.

But fuck if it wasn't worth it.

He pulls back, gasping for breath, his hand still loosely gripping his spent cock. He probably looks a mess—hair wild from your hands, face shiny with your wetness, expression dazed and satisfied.

"Christ," he breathes, looking up at you with something close to awe.

"Yeah," you agree, equally breathless.

A moment passes where you just look at each other, both trying to process what just happened. Then, because he's Jungkook and he can't help himself, he grins.

"So," he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his clean hand. "I guess you like the vibrator I picked, huh?"

You roll your eyes, but there's no real annoyance there. Just a kind of fond exasperation that makes his chest feel weird and tight.

"It's alright," you say, casual as anything, like you weren't just having what looked like the most intense orgasm of your life. "Could've been better."

He laughs, full and genuine. "Liar."

Your lips twitch, fighting a smile. "Maybe."

He sits back on his heels, suddenly aware of the mess he's made on the floor. "We should, uh, probably clean up before Yoongi gets home."

You nod, both legs dangling off the table. “Wouldn’t want to scandalize him.”

"He's seen worse," Jungkook says without thinking, then flinches. "I mean—not with me. Just, you know, in general. Living with roommates and all."

You give him a look that's equal parts amusement and skepticism. "Right."

Awkward silence falls as the reality of what just happened settles in, because this? Yeah, it was sex. But this time you took control, you made him beg, you saw him at his most desperate and needy.

And he... liked it. More than he probably should have.

"So," he says, tucking himself back into his jeans with as much dignity as possible. "That was fun."

You snort. "Such a way with words, Ro."

"What can I say? I'm a poet."

He gathers the dress from the floor and gives it to you. You throw the dress at his head, but you're laughing, and he thinks—not for the first time—that he likes that sound. Likes being the cause of it.

He doesn’t analyze it further than needs to be.

He catches the dress, handing it back to you with exaggerated chivalry. "Your garment, m'lady."

"You're an idiot," you say, but there's no bite to it. Just that weird, fond tone that makes his stomach do strange things.

Fully on both legs now, he places both his arms between your spread thighs, his face hovering close to yours, tilting to the side.

"Yeah," he agrees, because sometimes the simplest truth is the easiest to admit. "But I'm an idiot who makes you cum really fucking hard, so..."

And there it is—that flash in your eyes, that hint of heat that never seems to fully dissipate between you two. 

"Don't get cocky," you warn.

Too late, he thinks. Way too late for that.

He stands there with the taste of you still on his lips and he can't help but feel satisfied.

Good.

“Does this mean we’re not fighting anymore?”

You laugh, the sound bright and genuine in the quiet room. “I guess not.”

“Good. Because that was a fucking stupid fight anyway.”

“It was,” you agree. “But the makeup sex was worth it.”

“Always is with us.”

And that’s the truth of it, isn’t it? No matter how much you argue, no matter how much you drive each other crazy, this thing between you—this chemistry, this connection—always brings you back together. 

No strings attached, just pure, perfect understanding of what the other needs.

It’s not love. It’s not even like, most days. But it’s something. 

Something that works for both of you.

And then, Jungkook feels your forehead press against his shoulder, which catches him off guard. Not because it’s heavy or anything—it’s not—but because it’s you.

You, who usually keeps your distance unless you're actively trying to rile him up. You, who just made him beg on his knees like some desperate idiot a few minutes ago.

And now you’re here, leaning into him like this is normal. Like this is fine.

It’s... nice. He hates that it’s nice.

His lips twitch upward despite himself, a soft smile breaking through the lingering haze of post-orgasmic bliss. His hand moves before he can think better of it, sliding up your back in a slow, deliberate stroke. His palm presses lightly between your shoulder blades, fingers splaying out as he rubs soothing circles into your skin.

Your back is warm under his touch—soft in places, firm in others—and he thinks about how strange it is that he knows what you feel like now. Not just your skin but the way you move under his hands, the way your muscles tense and relax depending on what he’s doing to you. 

It’s intimate in a way that makes something uncomfortable stir in his chest if he lingers on it too long.

So he doesn’t linger.

“Cleanup?” he asks, voice low and rough from everything that just happened.

You grunt. Not a word, not even a real sound—just a grunt. Like the idea of moving is physically painful to you right now.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through both of you. 

“Alright,” he says, hand still on your back as if that’s going to keep you from sliding off the table and face-planting onto the floor. “Let me get some wipes.”

Another grunt. This one sounds more annoyed than tired, but he can’t tell for sure because your face is still buried against his shoulder.

“Don’t tell me…” He pauses for dramatic effect because he knows how much you hate when he does that. “You’re a cuddlebug?”

That gets a reaction. Your head snaps up so fast he almost flinches, and then you’re shoving at his chest with both hands like you’re trying to push him off the planet.

“Fuck you,” you mutter, but there’s no real heat behind it. Your hands stay on his chest for a second longer than necessary before falling back to your sides.

He snorts, stepping back and giving you space because even though he likes teasing you (maybe too much), he knows when to quit.

Most of the time, anyway.

“Stay there,” he says over his shoulder as he heads toward his room. “Don’t move.”

You don’t respond this time—not even a grunt—but when he glances back, you’re still perched on the edge of the table looking thoroughly unimpressed with life.

Very you, indeed.

Then he's stepping into his bedroom, and of course, it is dark when he steps inside, the only light coming from the hallway spilling in behind him.

He grabs the container of wet wipes from his nightstand (don’t ask why they’re there; that’s none of anyone’s business) and heads back out before his brain can start overthinking anything.

When he returns to the entryway, you haven’t moved an inch. You’re still sitting there with both legs dangling off the table.

And for a moment, he can’t help but think the sight is oddly cute.

“Alright,” he says again as if this is some kind of official business meeting instead of… whatever this is. “Let’s get this over with.”

He crouches down first, wiping at the floor where his cum has left an embarrassing mess that Yoongi would absolutely kill him for if he saw it later. The hardwood glistens faintly under the light as he scrubs at it with more force than necessary—partly because it needs to be cleaned properly and partly because maybe if he focuses hard enough on this task, he won’t think about how close your legs are or how good you smelled earlier or how fucking soft your skin felt under his hands.

When he's done with that part (and only when he's sure it's spotless), he straightens up and turns toward you.

Your eyes are on him—soft but unreadable—and it makes something twist in his stomach that has nothing to do with hunger or exhaustion or anything else logical.

“What?” he asks because apparently silence makes him nervous now.

You shake your head slightly, lips curving into something that might be a smile if it weren’t so small and fleeting.

 “Nothing.”

He doesn’t believe you—not for a second—but decides not to push it because pushing things with you in this state never ends well for him.

Instead, he steps closer until he's standing between your legs again and tilts his head toward yours like he's trying to figure out what you're thinking without actually asking outright.

"Hold still," he murmurs after a beat of hesitation that's barely noticeable but feels significant anyway.

The wipe is cool against your skin as he starts cleaning you up—gentle but thorough in a way that surprises even himself. Your eyes stay on him the whole time—watchful but not wary—and it makes him feel weirdly self-conscious even though there’s no reason for it.

When he's finished (and only when he's sure you're clean), he tosses the used wipe into the trash can by the door without looking away from you entirely.

"Sleep?" he asks after another moment of silence stretches between you like an elastic band ready to snap at any second now if someone doesn’t say something soon enough.

“Yeah.” You murmur. “Your bed.”

Jungkook blinks at you like he’s not sure he heard right. 

Not because it’s weird—okay, maybe it’s a little weird—but because you said it so casually. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world to ask to sleep in his bed after everything that just happened.  

He doesn’t know what to say at first. He’s not used to this part—the after part. Usually, there isn’t an after part. It’s just sex, then goodbye, then see you whenever.

But this? This feels different in a way he can’t quite put his finger on, and it makes his brain stutter for a second before he finally manages to respond.  

“Uh… yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sure.”  

You don’t say anything else, just lift your arms slightly like you’re expecting him to do something.

He stares at you for a moment, confused, until it clicks.  

“Oh, come on,” he mutters, rolling his eyes but already stepping closer. “You’re not serious.”  

You just raise an eyebrow at him, and yep—you’re serious.  

“Lazy ass,” he grumbles under his breath as he bends down to scoop you up.  

Your arms loop around his neck automatically, and your legs wrap around his waist like this is something you do all the time instead of… well, never. He tries not to think about how natural it feels or how warm you are against him or how your breath brushes against his collarbone when you settle into his hold.  

It’s fine. Totally fine. This is just… practical. 

Yeah. 

Practical.  

He carries you with ease because let’s be real—he could probably bench press you if he wanted to—and nudges his bedroom door open with his foot. 

“Alright,” he says as he approaches the bed and leans forward slightly to deposit you onto the mattress. “Here we go.”  

But instead of letting go like a normal person, you cling tighter for half a second before finally releasing him with a grunt that sounds suspiciously like reluctance. He doesn’t comment on it because honestly? He doesn’t trust himself not to make it weird if he does.  

You flop onto your back with all the grace of a drunk cat and immediately start wiggling around like you’re trying to make yourself comfortable in record time. Jungkook just stands there for a moment, watching you with an expression he doesn't even know how to describe.

“You good?” he asks once you’ve finally stopped moving and are lying still with your eyes closed like this is your bed and not his.

“Mmhm,” you hum without opening your eyes.

He shakes his head but doesn’t bother arguing because what’s the point? 

Then he’s going to lay down too, but you sprawl onto his bed like you’re claiming it for yourself, arms and legs stretched out in every direction like some kind of human starfish. 

Jungkook snorts, standing at the side of the bed with his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. 

“Move,” he says, nudging at your foot with his knee. “I want to sleep too.”  

You crack one eye open, squinting at him.

“Then sleep,” you mumble, voice muffled by the pillow your face is half-buried in.  

“I can’t sleep,” he says, gesturing dramatically at your starfish pose. “Not unless you move your limbs out of my personal space.”  

You grunt something unintelligible but make no effort to move.  

He sighs—long and exaggerated—before climbing onto the bed anyway, shoving at your leg until you reluctantly curl up enough to give him room.

He flops down beside you with all the grace of someone who’s been awake for far too long and immediately starts adjusting himself into what he considers optimal sleeping position.  

Except there’s one problem: his arm.  

It’s stuck under him, bent awkwardly against his side instead of stretched out under the pillow where it belongs. He tries shifting around to fix it but quickly realizes there’s no way to do that without encroaching on your territory.  

“Hey,” he says, nudging at your side with his foot now.  

“What?” you snap, voice sharp despite how tired you sound.  

“Let me extend my arm under the pillow.”  

“No.”  

“What do you mean no?”  

“I mean no,” you repeat stubbornly, turning your head just enough to glare at him over your shoulder. “Figure it out without bothering me.”  

He stares at you for a second like he can’t believe what he’s hearing before deciding that negotiation is clearly not going to work here. 

So instead, he does what any reasonable person would do in this situation: he forcefully shoves his arm under your neck like it belongs there.

You jerk upright immediately, twisting around to face him with wide eyes and an expression that screams 'what the actual fuck'.  

“Bro,” you say, voice incredulous as you try—and fail—to push his arm away. “Get off me.”  

“Bro,” he says simply, already settling back down like this is perfectly normal behavior between roommates who occasionally hook up but definitely aren’t friends yet (or whatever this is). “You’re in my bed. Shut up and act like a plushie or something.”  

“A plushie?” You sound so offended that he almost laughs but manages to hold it back because laughing right now would probably get him kicked out of his own bed.  

“Yes,” he says firmly, pulling the blanket over both of you with one hand while keeping his other arm firmly in place under your neck. “A plushie.”  

You open your mouth to argue—because of course you do—but he shuts it down with a loud, drawn-out “SSSSHHHHH” that’s so over-the-top, so him, it stops you cold.

“Sleep,” he adds a second later, voice low, eyes already shut like the matter’s settled and he’s the authority on bedtime now.

The room stills. One of those dumb, drawn-out silences where neither of you wants to move first. Like shifting even an inch might make it real. Might make it weird.

But then you sigh. Loud. Dramatic. Flopping back down beside him like you’ve just made the ultimate sacrifice.

“Fine,” you mutter, sharp as ever, head hitting the pillow with a thud. “But if I wake up with a crick in my neck because of this stupid arm thing—”

“You won’t,” he says, already drifting, smug and certain and way too casual for someone who just turned a routine argument into a full-body tangle.

You mumble something under your breath—probably rude, definitely deserved—and go quiet.

And for a second, he just lies there. Listening to your breathing even out. Feeling the slight pull of your body next to his.

The ridiculousness of the situation should hit harder than it does.

But it doesn’t. 

It actually feels…weirdly good.

Not in the usual way. Not in the easiest way.

Just—solid. Like he hasn’t fucked it up yet.

Which is a surprise, considering he really thought he had. 

After Tuesday. 

After the whole Jason thing—the fight that was never really about Jason. The way the guy had looked like every goddamn red flag Jungkook had ever ignored. Too neat, too careful, too condescending behind a smile that felt fake even from a hallway away.

He’d projected. Hard. Got scared on your behalf. Angry in that twitchy, irrational way he hates. Like he couldn’t stand the thought of you falling into something he knew could break you. 

But that wasn’t fair. Wasn’t his choice. You’re not fragile. You’re you. You can make your own calls without his fears bleeding into them.

And he should know better by now. Should’ve remembered that you’ve survived things he doesn’t even ask about.

Instead, he snapped. Like he always does when things get too close. Like he’s got some built-in timer that detonates as soon as someone sees more than they’re supposed to.

So yeah. He’d assumed it was done. That he’d pushed too hard, too fast—again.

That whatever fragile thing had been building between you would crack right down the middle, just like every other almost-connection he’s tried to hold onto.

But then… you’d talked. Actually talked. 

And—somehow—you’d listened.

Not just tolerated him. Heard him. 

And tonight, he thinks—for the first time in a long, long time—he feels…comfortable. With a woman. With you.

And yeah, okay—he kind of likes that.

It’s not some life-changing moment. Not some movie scene epiphany.

Just this quiet flicker of maybe. Of could be.

Maybe he can have this. A woman beside him. No pressure. No angle. No romantic feelings. No attachments, no entanglements. Not drama, not hurt.

Just a dumb, chaotic almost-friendship built on late-night arguments and questionable sleep arrangements.

And fuck—he’s kind of proud of that.

So he lets his eyes fall shut. Lets the warmth settle. Lets the thought linger.

Not friendship. Not yet.

But maybe.

goal: 500 notes, but the wattpad goal has to be reached too

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© jungkoode 2025 no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[fushigujiro]

boyfriend!onyankopon loves watching you get ready. don’t matter for what, how, if it’s lazy or all out, he just loves watching the process of you getting ready for anything even your temper tantrums because your hair isn’t cooperating or you have nothing to wear (your closet is full as shit). he loves the makeup part the most. he watches intensely from start to finish, just quietly sitting like an obedient boy. he observes your style when you get to the dressing part and just admiring the small details you make to accessorize your outfit. his little fashionista baby (he swears you get the drip from him).

boyfriend!onyankopon just has to touch you. he can’t just not touch he wants to touch you, he needs to touch you. he loves touching you, simple as that. everytime you guys are home he wants you cuddling by him, on him, straddling his lap, to lay his head on your thighs, your chest, your arms- he wants to be in your skin and i’m also going to add that he loves smelling you. he thinks it’s a fetish but to be honest he can’t help it he loves your natural smell and the scent combo you use all the time, makes him wanna lick you…n sometimes he does randomly but you allow it

boyfriend!onyankopon is very intimidating from afar but as you both got closer and he became your man, he’s a big ass softy not only for you but small animals. (he’s a cat lover) you both have a pet kitty at home that he secretly acts like he’s not obsessed but lets kitty sleep with you guys at night, takes her out for errands, and gets her cute clothes. one time, in the middle of the night, 3 of you were in bed and you’re just resting your eyes while he thought you were sleeping and played with kitty on his lap. he was just softly cooing at her and humming until you heard him say “i love you two girls so much” his deep voice professed, softly petting the smaller girl that purred at his touch and love…a little did he know, you did too<3

boyfriend!onyankopon is so freaking sassy it’s actually ridiculous but i’ll get to that part soon. he loves to tease you. he can never go a full day without being “did i annoy her today? i need to do so before the day ends” it’s his mission to annoy or else he wouldn’t think he was an up to par man for you apart from other things that he knows he’s got down..multiple times *wink* but i digress. he teases you, will mock you, bother you, annoy you and it’s very irritating but adoring because it’s him. though, the thing is the second you tease him back he’s like a damn sass man and so childlike which brings me back to the beginning on why i said he’s so damn sassy. muthafucka will stay having his arms crossed, looking everywhere but you, will side eye you, roll his eyes, give attitude that’ll make you be like… “is this me right now? huh??” but if you make it up to him he’s grinning like a cheshire cat…just bad

boyfriend!onyankopon is a very laid back man. he’s very chill. he’s chill about you, he’s not obsessive- crazy obsessive at that, he lets you do you and he’s your personal cheerleader (we love to see it). he will always encourage you to do anything you wanna do but because i said he’s a laid back man doesn’t mean he won’t get protective over you. if a guy bumps into you he won’t hesitate to get in front and confront the man in his face. he doesn’t have to say too much, with how he speaks, his deep almost baritone voice and his low lidded but intense gaze is enough to turn a grown man into a baby and back off scared.

boyfriend!onyankopon loves taking pictures of you. yess he loves living in the moment but then again, he can live in it and remember it when he goes to his photo album that's named 'my pretty girl🤞🏾' and looks at all the pictures and videos he's took of you over the years. baby pictures ‘n videos he got from your family, pictures you asked him to take of you when you dressed up nd felt pretty, funny pictures you both laugh at as well as pictures you'd kill him for because they’re the off guard. you’ll forever see a phone in his, has flash on ( purposely) and will go up in your face, snap it and put it as his wall paper….he loves you so much

boyfriend!onyankopon will let you do anything to him. did I mention baby boy has a whole tattoo sleeve? looks so yummy on his buff arms but I digress for the nth time. he'll let you use washable multi color markers on his tattoos as when you get bored 'cuz you tend to use him as a "experiment" is how he'd put it. if you wanna do his makeup he'll huff and puff but he'll let you do it just so he can hear your pretty laugh and gaze at that beautiful smile. wanna put a soothing face mask on him? he's agreeing. he likes doing these things with you it creates beautiful memories with his girl. he enjoys the mask, the roller, gua sha- even you tweezing his eyebrows. he'll lay back with you straddling him, his big veiny hands rubbing up and down your thick thighs whilst his eyes are closed to just enjoy the moment of you blabbering nonsense with you doing his face and kitty coming on the bed to cuddle by his shoulder....he loves it here and never would dream wanting it to end.

꒰ note ꒱.....it's been 3 years of procrastination + writers block and lord have mercy it's been too long since i've wrote something but my life has been too much since then. after some motivation from my bf and the most help (from my bf<33) i'm back again! i'm open for requests to get more things out andddd just happy to be back<3 (thank you babe for everything)

[pe4cht3a]

Little something I think about once and awhile but I feel like Killua tells his dad and grandpa stuff about his life. Like just talk about his friends, any training, any enemies, any *crushes* ;). I feel like we see a little of this in the Zoldyck arc before Killua leaves home, AND I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT IT

LIKEE IMAGINE!! Killua yapping his dad and/or grandpa’s ear off about his smidge crush on reader then turning around and being like - don’t tell Illumi (he already knows). BASICALLY can we get a one shot/headcannons about this? This feeds my obsession with me needing to know what people think I about me

‧ ˚ Hush ˚ ‧

── .✦ a/n: augrhf this sucks so bad but i love this idea sm, pls enjoy :3

after numerous days of being tortured and mutilated by his family, killua was certainly feeling annoyed. why was killua even enduring this in the first place? because he decided it was a wonderful idea to stab the shit out of his mommy and older brother, the fat one, of course.

while enduring the endless punishments and merciless whippings from his family, especially milluki, who kil had stabbed before running off for the hunter exam. oh right! the hunter exam.

during the hunter exam, known world wide to be extremely difficult and hard to pass, killua had encountered some of the most important people to him currently. gon, his best friend. kurapika, an older brother figure. leorio, someone to make fun of. you, his first ever crush.

killua had never, EVER been exposed to girls before his whole life. disregarding his mother, and alluka since he hadn’t seen her since they were like six and five. the only things in life killua had ever been provided for was ruthless training and grooming to become the head of the zoldyck assassin family. of course, this role meant he was destined to marry in the future to reproduce, but talk of women and marriage was left for much of the future. so when kil met you and got to interact properly with you, A GIRL… he did not know what to do at all.

“wow! she sure is fast!” the cheerful gon chirped as he eyed you, pacing along with satotz in the first phase of the hunter exam effortlessly. “tch, that girl will for sure die later.” the albino rolled his eyes as he focused on the dark tunnel ahead of him. “i wouldn’t assume that so early, killua. she does seem strong.” kurapika chimed in as he watched you meticulously.

“oh! i guess you’re the number i’m assigned to collect for.” you slyly but gently smiled at killua, standing right in front of him, surrounded by the lush forest. “in your dreams.” the silverette non-chalantly spat out as he had his hands tucked into his pockets.

before killua could react, you had already swiftly jumped up onto a tree behind him. killua didn’t realise at first, but less than a second later he realised a side of his shirt had felt significantly lighter.

“hey! what the hell?” the boy screamed as he snapped his head around to see your figure atop a tree branch.

you had just taken killua’s badge without a sweat.

badge number 99 was now yours.

you turned your body around, and stared down at the albino, who was exuding embarrassment and anger. “don’t be so angry, kitty.” you smirked, as you placed your hands into your pocket, mocking killua’s once confident and signature posture. the darkened expression on killua’s face was priceless, something to behold, truly.

did this bitch just call him “kitty”? ain’t no way you took his badge, called him kitty AND mocked him. if this was anyone else, killua would’ve slit their throats by now but, you felt incredible.

that was the moment and interaction that caused something unknown to bloom inside killua. how could you take his badge without him noticing? how were you faster than him? he’s a zoldyck, so how? what training have you gone through? who were you, really? how were you so confident against someone like him? how the fuck were you so pretty while doing all that?

killua was now hungry for more of you.

“so killua! whats your type?” the raven haired boy said as he gazed out the window of the airship. “my type? what do you mean?” the pale boy questioned, tilting his head. “you know, what kind of girls do you like?” gon grinned innocently. “girls?” killua had never interacted with a girl before, until you, that is. killua was not sure what to say, his type? he hadn’t even been around enough girls yet to know.

“mhm! personally, i like older women! i think they’re caring and mature.” the ravenette exclaimed as he explained to the dumb-founded albino. “uh.. well…” killua was pretty puzzled, to say the least.

it shattered his ego to admit this to gon, but especially himself. “uhhh.. you know that girl we’ve been seeing around lately during the exam?” the albino stared off into the night lights shining from below. “oh yeah! she’s pretty!” gon smiled, he was pretty surprised killua mentioned you.

“um, i guess you could say so.” killua would never ever talk about this subject to anyone else.

unfortunately, all that was awhile ago. now, instead of spending time with gon and his other friends, he was propped up in his mansion’s cell, abused. everything went south once killua’s eldest brother, illumi revealed his disguise at the last phase of the exam and manipulated him into returning home. killua was not one to reminisce, but those memories were surely treasured.

“how dare you stab me and mama?” the obese creature yelled as he whipped killua. their mother had just entered a few minutes earlier but now, it seems another family member has intruded once again.

“milluki, stop it.” the elder declared as he calmly walked in. “grandpa! you’re always spoiling him! this is why now he’s a fucking brat!” milluki stressed, desperately trying to get their grandfather on board. “shut it.” zeno side eyed his huge grandson as he stepped towards the younger one. unsurprisingly, milluki shut his mouth due to his overflowing amount of respect and fear for his grandfather. what a loser, killua thought to himself, not daring to raise his head to look at his grandpa.

“alright, get up kil. silva wants to see you.” the old man informed, no anger or disappointment in his voice whatsoever. “huh? really? dad wants to see me?” the albino immediately shot his head up in a fit of surprise.

“so kil, i know you ran off.” the respectable man sternly said as he sat in the dimly lit room. “yeah… i did.” killua awkwardly responded to his father, afraid his father will be mad.

“i want to hear all about your journey.”

“really, dad?”

“sit beside me, kil.”

“what kind of people did you meet at the exam?” silva questioned, acting interested. “heh! well, i met gon! he’s so fun! and.. uh kurapika, he’s real nice. i also met some guy called leorio, don’t remember much about him.” killua excitedly rambled, like a little child once again. “i see. anyone else?” the man questioned as he narrowed his icey blue eyes.

silence took over the room for awhile, killua’s head facing down. not sure how to start off about you.

“well, i met a girl.” killua muttered as he looked off to the side. “oh?” silva let out as he tilted his head. how hilarious, such similar body language between son and father.

“mhm uh.. she’s.. really pretty…” killua felt his ears burning up and heart pounding. “describe her to me, then.” silva demanded as he was surprised a girl caught his son’s attention.

sure, killua was a teenage boy but his family expected him to have the mindset and ambitions of an assassin, not some love sick teenager.

“mm… her eyes shine so brightly, she moves so gently.. but yet so quickly. she also… smells good. hmm, i like how she’s so open to conversations with people around her and isn’t shy to say her mind! i love the fact she beat me, to be honest.” the little albino was now completely off in his little dream land about you, pale face now bright pink.

“she beat you? am i hearing this right?” the older man walked in, without any sounds giving him out whatsoever, beforehand. steps inaudible, how typical of an assassin.

“it seems so, father.” silva nodded, eyes still fixated on killua.

killua immediately regretted letting that information slip, now his dad is going to go WAY harder on him during trainings.

“yeah.. we had to claim other people’s badges for a phase, and she somehow took mine, when she was right in front of me!” the silly silverette unknowingly went back into a state of infatuation, forgetting all about how his elders will think of his failure.

zeno and silva exchanged glances, both deciding to say nothing about THAT, for now.

killua softened his gaze at both. “her name is y/n. i asked her for her name right before… big brother revealed himself and—” killua’s voice slowly trailed off as he remembered what happened.

“forget about illumi, tell us more about this girl.” silva abruptly cut his son’s sentence off.

the flustered boy raised his head once more and nodded with a smile. “she’s so strong! i’ve never met anyone else who could beat me!” killua excitedly gushed, his heart was now feeling so fuzzy and warm. a foreign feeling, indeed.

a good 3 hours had probably gone by.

“after i told gon i found her pretty, he urged me to give her my chicken wing during dinner! can you believe that guy?” the care free boy laughed as his dad and grandpa chuckled along. “well? did the lady accept your generous offer?” zeno teased, in his elderly fashioned humour.

“yeah! she said thank you and said that she really liked my hair colour… kinda weird but i felt good when she complimented me!” killua was now spread out, laying on the floor, as the two elders sat upon the bed. “it seems this gon guy is becoming your wingman.” silva grinned slightly at his son, delighted that killua was interested in strong girls, but unhappy since it was too early for him to be thinking about relationships.

“sometimes, i see her looking at me during dinner time and i feel like as if my heart was going to explode any moment! felt more intense than any training you guys have ever given me.” killua sighed as he was now, running out of breath from yapping so much about you.

“i think me and your father have heard enough to understand this y/n girl, kil.” zeno stood up from his seat and placed his hands behind his back. “i agree, father.” silva huffed out. wow, his son sure was interested in you. this is definitely gonna bring some kind of trouble.

killua sat up from the floor, sapphire eyes now looking like an innocent child’s. as if, he was never a ruthless killer who murdered for profit and as a lifestyle. instead, looking like a pure and untouched pale porcelain doll. silver hair no longer dirtied and stained with blood from his victims. rather, silver hair now fluffy and as white as undisturbed snow during winter.

for once, killua felt normal.. no. for once, he is ALLOWED to be normal.

“please don’t tell any of this to big brother.” killua nervously said out loud to his father and grandfather, pleading almost. killua genuinely wanted to find you again, and get to know you properly. he was so so frightened that illumi will get ahold of this news and torture him. worse, he’ll go after you.

“no worries kil, illumi will stay out of this. after all, y/n and everything else is your own personal life.” silva reassured his son as he stepped over and placed his hand over killua’s head, patting him.

killua’s mouth curled into a soft smile, appearing like any other boy. happy to talk to his father about his crush, and getting reassurance.

“how is kil?” the silky haired man’s back leaned onto the cold marble wall. “doing fine, but he’ll leave again.” silva informed his eldest child.

“i know about that girl.”

“i presumed so.”

“should i get rid of her?”

“don’t.”

“okay. may i ask why though father?”

“first, killua will know it was us and never return to us again. second, he might learn a thing or two from forming bonds. third, that girl seems quite powerful.”

“are you suggesting we push him towards her more? that is absurd.”

“illumi, it is my responsibility as the head of the zoldyck family to plan for the next generations. she will produce fine children for us.”

“fair enough.”

“now, hush.”

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC: I wanna be like most girls ghosts.

or Danny: What should I do to make my mom happy?

or ~Danny deserves a little teenage rebellion as a treat~

Maddie: I just want this damned Phantom to stop pretending to be a hero! All ghosts are pure evil, who is he trying to deceive? Danny: Oh, really? And Danny took it personally.

It’s not Danny’s fault that he’s a good kid and wants to make his parents happy. But why would he have to be a monster to make them happy? Why must they hate him to be happy?

Danny’s obsession was going crazy.

Well, when your own parents call you a monster in the face, it hurts. Why do they always believe that only their opinion is the absolute truth? They have no idea how much worse things would be if at least some of the ghosts really behaved the way Maddie and Jack think they’re supposed to. If he really is evil by nature, is there any point in fighting his own fate? They want to see him as a villain, he will become one. He will. He just needs a little help and practice. And not bring it to the level when Clockwork has to clean up his mess. Poor guy is without a vacation for how long? Couple of millennia?

Johnny 13: Sup. Danny: F*ck off, Johnny, I’m not in the mood. Busy thinking about world domination. Get out of here or I’ll call Kitty. Johnny 13: What’s wrong? You’re usually so grouchy only towards the end of the week. Danny: Nothing. Just parents. Again. They are wonderful but I can’t help but feel sometimes that they, em… Johnny 13: Suck? Danny: Right…Damn. I’m a terrible son. Maybe something is wrong with me. Johnny 13: What? No, no, dude. You’re just growing up. And you’re a little late, usually teenagers go through that stage before they graduate. Well, you’ve probably been busy with other issues, so just missed it. Danny: I wonder whose fault it is. Aren’t there ghosts who enjoyed to ruin my life in the middle of school day?

Johnny 13: Oh, bother. Anyway, you’re entering a beautiful time of emancipation, where you’re going to shape your own view of life and, along the way, to get drunk on cheap alcohol at parties, maybe to go to jail and to become the greatest disappointment to your family..And then you will be ashamed to remember it for about the next ten years. Danny: Well, it looks like I’ve already done two out of three additional things. Great success. Johnny 13: When did you get drunk? Danny: I didn’t. Johnny 13: Oh. Want to fix that? Danny: What? No. What an idiot wants to add a headache to his problems? Johnny 13: Well, your loss, then I’ll go terrorize the bars of Gotham alone and no one can stop me. Let’s see what your boyfriend will say about it. ~~~~~ Danny: Bartender, another shot of Dead Man’s Fingers, please. Red Hood: Babe, haven’t you had enough? Danny: Have you ever felt that no matter how hard you try, no matter how many sacrifices you make, in their eyes you’ll always be nothing more than a monster? Nothing more than a mistake? Oh, Death doesn’t give people like me a break. Red Hood: …I’ll have what he’s having. *gives the bartender a sign to switch the rum shots to a batburger milkshake for them, and starts talking to Danny so that he doesn’t understand Hood's scams*

~~~~~

Johnny 13: Other people’s kids are growing up so fast. It seems like yesterday he didn’t know how to shoot ectoblast, and now.. Kitty: Stop trying to make me feel bad, we’re leaving. Johnny 13: But the boy needs our support, honey boo!

~~~~~

Danny: I'm fine. Really, I am. This isn’t the first time mom’s called me a monster. She often called me that when she was upset with my behavior in my childhood. Huh, it's even funny. Jason: There’s nothing funny about that. Danny: No, you don’t understand. Looking back, I was really a very active child and didn’t know when to stop. Not surprisingly that I often annoyed my parents. They’re very busy people, and Jazz couldn’t always keep an eye on me. And I was often afraid to go to sleep alone because there were shadows in the darkness of my room. Well, I used to think they were. But I pretended everything was okay to not distract parents from work. Jason: Hey, it’s not your fault. You were a child. Obviously, kiddo requires a lot of attention, they must have understood that. You are the second child in the family, right? Danny: Well, Jazz was different. I don’t know. Anyway, I thought if the monsters behind the curtain and under the bed were just like me, well, according to my mom, you know, then they wouldn’t want to hurt me. And since they look after me, they are friends. So I kinda greeted all the suspicious noises and howls. Huh, I was a strange kid. Jason: If you smile at someone in the dark alley right now that someone is more likely to wet themselves or faint. Danny: Rude! I’m not that scary. Admit that I’m adorable. Do it right now. Jason: Stunning, darling. But still carry a gun and a knife, please. My childhood taught me that what's hiding in the dark is worth beating up. Danny: Come on, what should I be afraid of? Death? Anyway, I want to try this shit. Like, the inevitable one. Being a bad boy, you know? Hood *raises eyebrows*. Danny: Oh damn it man, I'm talking about ghostliness. I want to try to be like most of dead ones. I want to unleash my side of the trickster and the villain. But only a little bit. I have to be supervised so that things don't go too far. Would you help me, honey?

~~~~~2 hours later~~~~

~~~~~

Goons used to expect a lot of weirdness from working with the boss.

Sometimes Bruce Wayne would go into their base and yell at the Red Hood like he's one of his kids. Of course Wayne's well-known as 'Gotta adopt them all' but the guy must really suffer from insomnia to count the Red Hood into his brood of chicks several times. Sometimes the boss would fight Robin or Nightwing over differences in morals…or for biscuits. It varied from moment to moment. Sometimes the boss caught the local street children, fed them and taught them to steal correctly. And most of the foundlings stayed with them under their protection.

To make a long story short, Red Hood is not the typical crime lord that some of them had to deal with before. Which is a blessing. Thanks Lord for the health insurance. But still the crime lord. Which means he's still scary, and sometimes deadly.

Anyway, when the boss brought in a guy who looked more civilian than any civilian in the whole Gotham and said he was going to be their intern, they thought it was a joke at first. Despite the fact that Hood was not in the habit of joking while working.

The teenager was too well-mannered and sweet to come from Crime Alley. Phil thought the guy was gonna run when he saw the first murder, Jessica didn’t think the domestic boy wouldn’t chicken out at the sight of a fight. But arguing with a boss’s orders in their profession is like asking for a bullet in the head, so these conversations were taking place outside of their boss's sight. God, how can they teach him anything? What do you take from a boy who’s only good to do the coffee run? Fenton will fall if they’ll give him something heavier than 10 pounds. And then boss will yell at them because he treats the new guy like a princess on a pea. Well, at least that’s what they thought until the boss decided to give the new guy his own assignments:

~~~~~

Red Hood: So, what have you learned during your internship, my young Padawan? Danny: Well, it looks like I’m gonna suck at being a criminal mastermind. I think I may have to find myself some other profession. Red Hood: Come on, you just need a little more practice. Danny: Thank you but I don’t think that’s fit my obsession that good. Don't misunderstand me, I wanna be like most ghosts. But I was wrong to go to hit that goal only base on human stereotypes about my nature. Red Hood: What a pity. The newbies just learned not to flinch when you walk in. But, to be honest, I'm not gonna miss the adrenaline-boosting roller coaster of you at work. Danny: Oh, and I guess to hold on to the concept of humanity was really stupid too. I clearly no longer fit in and I’m finally ready to accept that. So, hopefully, if you get into trouble, you can rely on my ghostliness and call for help. I am the spirit of many talents and of my word. I can haunt your enemies or walk through the walls of Arkham Asylum. Whatever you need, I’ll be here. Red Hood: I’ll bear that in mind.

[hiding-under-the-willow]

I am being brave and wandering into your ask box so you can ramble about the ghost au. It looks neat and I'm so curious owo

YAY YEAH YIPPEE!!!

Okay I'm just gonna try and synthesize all of the random notes I've written in the last few days into something of a vaguely coherent list lol

Grian and Joel are roommates looking for a new flat when they get the call that Grian has inherited a house, they very impulsively and foolishly decide to keep the thing that is way too large and far too run down for the two of them to handle, the house is so incredibly haunted, normal bbc ghosts plot ensues

Grian is the one who almost dies and ends up being able to see ghosts. Mumbo is the one who pushes him out the window. Which is ironic bc Mumbo was very much not pro killing the new inhabitants of the house when the other ghosts were scheming ways to get rid of them.

Okay so ghost facts.

Bdubs is obviously highly based on Robin the caveman, I imagine him being slightly closer to the end of the paleolithic period than Robin. I think he may or may not have had some weird cult stuff going in. Weird cult leader caveman guy worshiping the sun and moon. Yes the cloak is real moss. There's bugs in that thing

Wels and Hels killed eachother in a duel, right on the property line, which now neither of them can cross in death. So now both of them is just stuck on either side of the fence seething about it for the rest of time. I like how ridiculous and arbitrary the ghost property line rules are in ghosts, so I find this incredibly funny. Hels is the guy Black Knight stories are based on

Ren wasn't actually a king, he was some type of noble who tried to declare himself king of a specific area, hence the beheading. Whooooooo let's go treason!!

Cleo was not doing actual witch craft at the time she was accused of it, she was however probably doing other illegal and vaguely fucked stuff. Mayhaps that's why she was accused, someone wanted her out of the way and that was an easy and surefire way to get rid of her

Keralis. My silly silly little guy. Our Kitty stand in. I just thought the idea of him dying from pufferfish poisoning was really funny considering him and XB's whole thing. I wanna have XB around, I can't decide if I want him to be a marine biologist of some kind who drowned on the next property over that keralis talks to over the fence, or if he's just like a grounds keeper who takes care of the lake next door that keralis is parasocially obsessed with lol

Beef. Beef my beloved. Period piece romance novel protagonist looking mf <3 He grew up in a family of butchers, became an impressionist painter instead of joining the family business. Focused a lot on pastoral scenes, especially stuff involving farm animals and especially cows. His family thought his career choice was kind of useless and frivolous, his artist colleagues thought his choice of painting subject was kind of frivolous. That's where he got the nickname 'Beef', now it's all anyone remembers him by, AND the fucking paints killed him 😔

Scar!!! The scammiest fucking traveling salesman on the planet. Death of a Salesman death of the American dream type vibes on that guy. He's gotta pay his medical bills somehow man, can't even really blame him for all the grifting. He probably should've been more careful with who he was scamming though, he maybe pissed off the wrong guy (do not scam mobsters! They will have someone kill you about it!)

Xisuma, given the greatest honor of being my Captian stand in. He was a sharp shooter, until his eye got fucked up and he lost his good aim. They shipped him off to the country side to work in 'intelligence', he takes his job very seriously despite this obviously just being somewhere they put him to not have to deal with him. Seriously enough in fact to discover a spy in their ranks! Just in time for that spy to kill him real bad. Damn.

Joe my absolutely beloved. Pat stand in but not quite. He was a popular radio host, he did a lot of volunteer work as a voice/performer for hire. He gets recruited to do some announcer work for a scouting event. There is, mayhaps, a much more. Uh. DIY. Scouting event happening on the next property over. There is an accident involving some homemade fireworks next door (cubfan. when I get you cubfan.), the fireworks going off scares some kid in the middle of fucking around with a bow, Joe gets shot, you can assume the rest. Cub is ghosting around next door cause of the fireworks accident if it makes you feel any better lol

Mumbo my stupid nervous guy. Ran a large tech startup in the late 90s, should not have been given that kind of power over a company. Accidentally did like. A lot of finance crime. Found out about said finance crime and immediately had a fucking heartattack and died from the panic. My cringe fail businessman I love you

Yeah yeah okay so neighbor ghosts. Cub, Hels, maybe XB, and Gem.

Etho is their weird annoying neighbor, he can also see ghosts, but it'll take awhile for everyone to figure that out.

In the same way Grian can see ghosts bc Mumbo tried to kill him, Etho can see ghosts bc Hels tried to kill him (haven't decided how exactly that went down yet)

I've been thinking about what to do with the basement ghosts and I think I want to put team zits down there.

Uh. Other human cast. Jimmy is around! He kind of fills an Obi type role, silly friend who is just kind of around a lot. I think I wanna have Lizzie as like a local barista Joel has a crush on. The ghosts get in his way every time he tries to make a move on her.

Obviously a lot of the ghosts aren't strict one to one fill ins for the original show's ghosts. Ren and Beef are both kind of drawing elements from both Thomas and Humphrey, Wels and X are both kind of drawing from Fanny and Cap, Scar and Mumbo both kind of combine to make up Julian's character. So on and so forth. All of the stuff with Etho and his property's ghosts is obviously all stuff I just did cause I thought it was fun lol

Oh yeah! Ghost powers! Okay obvious stuff, Bdubs has Robin's ability to fuck with lights, Cleo has the same burning smell as Mary, Mumbo can push stuff like Julian. Non obvious stuff. I want Joe to be able to be heard through like radios and phones and such. Hels has to have something to have almost killed Etho but I've yet to decide what that is. If Hels has something I think it would be funny to then have Wels also have the same power, but like. Weaker. So he can be pissy about it. Obviously.

Uh yeah that's all i can think of off the top of my head

Anyways, yeah!!! That's the basic constructions of this au. I had this idea like 3 days ago and have. Obviously thought about it a lot in that time lmao

You can't put two pieces of media in front of me and not expect me to go insane about it <3

[whinelo]

Could I request an affectionate X pre and post dating headcanons?

Like, we know the guy is silly and before dating, he's a mess because he's so infatuated, but once he's dating reader he amps up his silliness because X loves nothing more than the sight of them laughing and smiling.

Bonus points: the rest of the top are watching him being silly and either it's cute or disgusting.

PRE-DATING :

Oh X was an absolute mess around you. If someone were to look at him when he was looking at you they could very- very clearly see cupids arrow attached to his head, and hearts that replaced the pupils in his eye’s.

Down bad. He’s so down bad for you, and at the same time he was so distraught. ( Because remember, he’s currently busy with the rest of the top-10 and their fates, this matter needed his dire attention. Oh but his thoughts drift unto you way more often than he wanted, needed. )

I’d imagine him getting pretty attached to you pre-dating, so close yet at the same distancing himself. Cut him some slack he doesn’t know what romantic feelings are, so it’d take quite a while for him to confess ( If you wanna speed things up, you’re gonna have to be the one initiating the confession sequence- this man is a perfectionist he needs the perfect, temperature, day, color of the sky, what mph the wind goes- )

Maybe the both of you got close during college, better yet even knew each-other during high-school— Who knows,

One thing is for sure is that he’d watch you for a while, learn things and habits of yours that you- yourself don’t notice; he’s too smitten, he’d go on your old social media accounts and stalk you there /j It’s not stalking if the information was put out on public.

POST-DATING :

He’s your kitty meow meow now, you’re stuck with him forever.

At the start of you guys dating he was so shy, but overtime shyness— became not-so-shy at all, every-time he came home from work he’d look for you immediately, and then pounce on you like the cat he is; even if you protest that he’s still wearing outside clothing, he wouldn't budge- he needs you stat.

One of the other reasons as to why he hates overtime is because its a few more hours separated with you!

He’d perform a multitude of magic tricks for you, the bunny out of the top hat? ( Although switch the bunny with a plushie of himself, ) Made you smile didn’t it? Your favorite flower coming out of his sleeve? Give him a peck, won’t you?

This man has an unhealthy obsession with the ‘X’ cola, so much so that you were mortified when you found a shelf filled with packs of it, X was scolded- ( Though he didn’t stop he just learned how to hide his cans in better places, poor you. )

Anyways remember when you said this man is silly? He’s the evolved form of silly the moment you guys get together, but it’s because he feels safe to let himself go around you.

Comfort this man, tell him you’re his- and his only, accept him give him affection— He needs so much of it.

You found out that he was X after a funny thought, “ Hey the facial proportions of my Boyfriend, and X looks so similar- what if I just overlay it? “ Surprising discovery. You kept it under wraps for a while, eventually X did admit it to you. X wasn’t smiling when you told him you knew.

Anyways.. After that, X let himself go wild around you— Hiking on Saturns rings? Joking about him lying on his interviews, it’s just pure fluff all around.

Sometimes he’d sneak you in the Hero Tower- lounging around and having dumb conversations.

He needs you as his peace, as his get-away from life; from his responsibilities, and you are.

BONUS SCENE :

It was supposed to be a quiet- peaceful, and normal day at the Hero Tower; all until someone barged into X’s floor and found out X— That rat bastard, had a Lover. The shocking news was relayed in an instant within the top-ten group chat, a meeting was immediately commenced ( On X’s floor of course, he doesn’t even use it. ) And what made it all worse? X wasn’t even hiding it, he was attached to his lover, you- by the waist.

“ How come his beloved lives— While ours die!? “ Lin Ling pointed an accusatory finger at X, he was aggravated— Devastated even, as the representative of the ‘Dead Wife, Unhappy Life’ Committee, he truly believed X should break up with you.

And you? You were watching this all in stride, the dude had everything prepared a powerpoint that's being presented on a fifty-eight inch LED flat screen, the members of the ‘Dead Wife, Unhappy Life’ committee sitting beside him chiming in time to time to give their own input, ( or better to say, lack thereof. ) and X was in your arms, huddled close to your chest.

Queen who sat a distance away from the both of you, glaring at X— If looks could kill X’s corpse would’ve been incinerated by the sheer anger in her stare; E-Soul sat in the corner ( still near Lin Ling as he was presenting why you and X should break up ), staring off into the far distance ( Looking to a time far before, ), Ghostblade… Maybe it’s better left unsaid, Luo Li furiously stalking at your social media accounts, Ahu— Actually you, X, and Ahu visit Xinya a lot- so you already knew Ahu. Little and Big Johnny were having a dispute about who knows what, Cyan who only gave you a sheepish grin— Dragon Boy? Listening to classical music,

Ah yes, this was not how you expected you’d get yourself entangled within the chaos of the dysfunctional dynamics the top ten have with one another.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

"WHY IS THERE ANOTHER MINI ME?"

Preview: The LnDs boys reacting to you customising a plushie with their face/your face on it.

Dividers sourced from @uzmacchiato

RAFAYEL

The artist had never scoffed so hard in his life, hands shielding his face in terror, as if the plushie that you held up to him would eat him alive. It would most likely haunt him for a while. He took a step back as you neared him. "What is that y/n?" He asked, index finger rapidly pointing and retracting towards the small puffer fish plushie in your grip, with his face plastered at the front of it. Moreover, the picture you had chosen was from the time he had lost the Kitty Card Game and was displaying a full on pout. Although he did pestered you to delete the picture, it was safe to say that it was not entirely eradicated from your delete folder. Hence, you ended up customising the awry picture of his into a plushie in order to commemorate his loss.

"I think it's adorable Rafayel!" It is your turn to pout now, turning the plushie around to have a good stare at the face, proud of the candid picture you had saved. His scrutinizing gaze shows that he is far from being impressed.

"Why would I want to stare at something so hideous when I can look at myself in the mirror everyday and be content with it--" His complaining came to a halt when you were flipping through the contents of your bag and you fished out another plushie, but this one has your face on it. A picture that he had taken of you during your date at the garden, where you are perched against a rose bush with a wide smile. That is one of his favourite pictures of you afterall. "Now this is what I call adorable."

He nonchalantly snatched the plushie off of your hand, holding it up above his head towards the ceiling. His gaze softened at the sight of your picture. All of a sudden, a supposed hideous plushie is now a prized possession of his. "Obsessed?" You teased him, walking up to him and he casually slings his arm around your waist to pull you close to his side, a smile now stapled onto his handsome features. You held up the plushie you were holding to pair it next to his.

"Yes, and I always will be. Thanks for this precious gift, my silly girl." And he pressed a kiss against your temple, earning your priceless giggle in return.

ZAYNE

"Zayne!" You called out to him as you rushed in through his garage door, your breaths now turning into pants as you had ran all the way from the subway station to his house. The doctor was wide eyed, staring at you like a madman as he was not expecting you to appear in such a rushed state.

Pushing his car door open, he stepped out of the car, still in his formal outfit as he had just got off of work after a 12 hours shift. "Y/N, what's the matter? Are you hurt?" He approached you, hand reaching up to cup your cheek and he started analysing your red-tinted face, the winter breeze is clearly catching on to you. "You could've---what is it?"

You did not let him finish his sentence and you pulled out a jasmine plushie, in the middle of the petals is a printed picture of your face on it. One with you sticking out your tongue, a routine behaviour of yours when you are feeling mischievous around him. "I attended a game event and this is the prize I got! I even got it customised with my face on it just for you!"

Zayne looked down at the plushie that got you so excited and he sighed in relief, knowing that you are safe and sound is all the matters. Now, he focuses onto the jasmine plushie in your hand. "What is the purpose of you making this for me?"

His question got you lowkey offended, a hand coming up to grab the plushie out of his grip but you could not even pry it away. The doctor's eyebrow is raised, veins protruding slightly against his knuckles as you realised that he is not even planning to let go. "I wanted you to have this so on the days when I am not around, this will help you to get by."

"Y/n." His call for your name is gentle, affectionate even. And you looked up at him. His hand that was still cupping your cheek moved to the back of your neck and he slightly leaned down to press his lips against yours. A chaste kiss as a sign of gratitude. "I do not wish for a plushie to help me get by the days where you won't be around when there is technology at our disposal. But, given that you went out of your way to get this for me. I will consider keeping it close to me."

XAVIER

"So, what did you got?" Xavier got out of the booth after he had changed back into his normal outfit. Glint Photobooth had once reached out to the both of you again, requesting for the both of you to participate as their models for the upcoming themed photobooth. Given that the both of you had nowhere else to be on a casual Saturday, Xavier and you decided to go along with the plan and in exchange, the both of you are able to pick out a customisable gift as your form of payment.

"Oh, I got this. Surprise!" You pulled out a white huggable bunny plushie and shoved it to Xavier. The blond young man held up the bunny plushie and you watched as his lips upturned into a smile. You were expecting a horrified expression from him, but given the opposite, curiosity got the best of you. "Are you not weirded out by my face being the bunny's face?"

"It's funny." He chuckled, finger smoothed over the ironed on patch of your face on the plushie's face. The lenticular printing shows two sides of your expressions; one with you smiling sweetly and another with you pouting and pretending to be mad. "Because I got the same thing for you."

"No you didn't." You were caught off guard when he pointed behind you and the shop keeper comes over with the same white bunny plushie but the only difference is a lenticular printing of his face replacing the bunny's face. One showing him sulking while the other showing him smiling.

"No wonder there is the saying that great minds think alike. I guess we are both meant to be, don't you think?" He winked at you before you threw your arms over him, both of your laugh resonated across the empty photo store. Then, you turned and gave him a peck on his lips only for him to pull you back in for a longer kiss.

CALEB

"Someone is back early." The moment you closed the door, you caught sight of your colonel in casual clothes, sprawled lazily on the living room's couch. His eyes trained on you as you walked through the archway that leads you to the living room and you dashed to him, jumping right into his arms. "Hey pipsqueak."

"Caleb, you won't believe what I got today!" You beamed, sitting up next to him and opening up your bag to bring out an apple plushie with your face printed on it's facial features. The photo is the same as what he is witnessing now, with a wide and bright smile, paired with your eye smile. A sight Caleb would gladly give up anything for. Seeing the plushie, Caleb slapped a hand over his mouth to surpress his laughter. You knew that this would tickle his funny bone given how he had been so tired and gloomy for the past few days and you wanted to cheer him up. "I introduce Colonel y/n, ready for takeoff!"

"Pips!" You pulled down the hand that was covering his mouth and torrents of laughters fell out of his mouth. A smile creeping onto your lips when you watched him hugged onto the plushie and bent over, still laughing till he is mildly gasping for air. "This is probably one of the best things I have received after a week of stress."

"I knew that you would fall for it." You nodded your head, hand rubbing soothing circles onto his wide back, feeling his mucles tensed underneath your touch and he sat straight up again, those nebula-like gaze catching yours in an instant. "Is there something on my face?" Your smile faltered for a little and your hand went up to touch your face but he stopped you and using his strength, he pulled you to sit on his lap.

"Thank you, y/n." Looking down at him, you steadied yourself by having your hand pressed onto his chest and he leaned forward, lips catching yours in a passionate but short kiss. After pulling away, he kept his forehead against yours and he whispered. "I shall keep Colonel y/n with me at all times. I promise."

SYLUS

"Sylus...?" You called out as you opened the heavy mahogany doors that leads to his office. Seeing that there is nobody inside, you slowly snuck in, tiptoeing on the carpeted floor to get to his desk. Digging through your bag, you fished out the plushie you had purposely customised for him. It is a Mephisto lookalike but your face plastered on the front of it. And given that Mephisto is a bird, it looked even more ridiculous for your photo to have a beak attached to it.

"What are you doing in my office, kitten?" Sylus' voice got you jumping in your position. His footsteps are always too silenced and this is not the first rodeo he scared you. Seeing you gripping something in your hand so tightly, he strided over in a few steps and came to stand next to you. "What is that in your grip?"

Gulping, you chuckled nervously and held it up to his field of vision. "I...I made this for you. It is a mini Mephisto but with my face on it." The holographic picture of you blended seamlessly with the beak that was attached at the front of the plushie. It almost seemed like you took the picture of you pouting intentionally to fit it onto Mephisto's facial features. "What do you think?"

"I like it." Sylus took the plushie off of your hand and he analysed it, the fabric soft to his touch. The corner of his lip tugged into a small smirk and his carmine eyes caught yours. "It is unusual for me to have such childish trinkets with me but for you, there is always an exception." The way he held the plushie was so gentle that it may give anyone else the wrong idea of the plushie being made of fragile glass.

"Do you think you're going to bring it anywhere you go?" You popped the question, tilting your head as you waited for an answer from him. Sylus slowly prop the plushie onto the wooden desk of his and he wrapped his taut arms around your waist, hoisting you onto the table so he can be at eye level with you.

"Why not? I can't just put my sweetie's hard work to waste." His eyes scanned your rubicund cheeks and down to your lips. Then, he closed in on the distance and kissed you, hand protectively wrapped around your small figure as he pulled you into his embrace.

[planete777]

LEAF TAPES 2・⁠｡♪ LN4

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri )

read part 1!

IN WHICH. after months of radio silence, y/n and lando go trending for the same thing again... but this time, it's not only them.

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI!, non consensual explicit video leaked, sexual descriptions, twitter environement, mentions of getting high (as per), very self indulgent so just sit back and enjoy

NOTE. it's finally here!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i've answered your requests, i hope you guys like it. my back aches from doing this so im gonna knock myself out lol. anyways, last fic for a few weeks, but i'll still be online/idle so u can still drop by my inbox if u want. okay ill let u go now bye and enjoy!!!!!

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu @multifandomwhore-003 (use askbox if you'd like to be added!)

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yn_ln

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 789,331 others

yn_ln life lately <3

>comments<

landonorris literally obsessed with you

landonorris love the last picture who's that on the left -> yn_ln what happened to being obsessed with me :((( -> landonorris sorry 😅 i mean the left. -> user 😭

user oscar cameo!!!!! OSCAR!!! CAMEO!!!

user i want both of them!!11!!1!1! i can take both of you!!!! -> user so real

user couple goals.... brb just setting up the toaster and the bath

oscarpiastri picture 2.... minutes before disaster -> landonorris disaster??? i found it pretty entertaining -> yn_ln i'm still recovering 🤭 -> user CARE TO SHARE??? I WANNA KNOW!!! -> user yn girlie............ let's gossip -> yn_ln no can do luv xx 😌

oscarpiastri anyways i look so good -> yn_ln humble yourself babe x -> landonorris what she said ^ -> user don't listen to them oscar, you do love good ❤ -> oscarpiastri trust me, i know 😏

lily_mhe loved going out with u bby <3 -> yn_ln yes!! we should do it again.... without the boys 😒 -> alexalbon uhm wow -> landonorris i need to get used to sharing the loml </3 -> oscarpiastri lol -> yn_ln 🤭

user she's so pretty "$%$£"£$(!"£$

user why are they being so cryptic 😩 -> user they wanna kill me

user 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 -> user i've got so many questions

user lily and y/n are for the girlies xx sorry i do not make the rules -> yn_ln speak it!!! -> lily_mhe yup!!

maxfewtrell no pic creds?? -> yn_ln i can give donations? -> user LMAOAOAO -> user max being bullied pt 2838474

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landonorris

liked by yn_ln, oscarpiastri and 1,302,811 others

landonorris ♾

<comments>

yn_ln look at us trending for the second time in 2 months 😝 -> landonorris ikr such icons -> oscarpiastri quite fun tbh -> user 😭 -> user u lot realllyyyyy dgaf and i love that for you

oscarpiastri i give the best cuddles ik -> landonorris u also give the best 🧠 -> yn_ln AND WHAT ABT ME? -> landonorris oh yeah... ig -> user what the fuck is going on??? 😭 -> user in broad daylist insta comments

user im surprised he didn't post a lil snippet on ig like yn did last time -> user literally 💀 -> user he wants us to have the full experience on twt fr

carlossainz55 im begging u, plz no more -> alexalbon 🙏 -> charlesleclerc 🙏 -> georgerussell 🙏 -> pierregasly 🙏 -> yukitsunoda 🙏 -> danielricciardo 🙏 -> lewishamilton 🙏 -> user they are going THROUGH IT!! -> landonorris we'll think abt it

user surprised, but not disappointed

yn_ln no more 🐱 for u! -> landonorris NO. U CAN'T DO THIS TO ME. -> user he survives purely off of the kitty cat. i support the hustle -> oscarpiastri spare the man 🙏 -> yn_ln nah he can just watch -> oscarpiastri fine by me

user foursome?? -> user join the line

[call-me-strega]

Dc x DP Prompt #8: Best Friend’s Brother

Preface: this prompt can be used with different characters but I’m writing it as Dead on Main bc that’s my favorite. Also the colleges I mention are real colleges from the DCU

~~~

Danny Fenton was 18 when he moved to Gotham for college.

It was the only place with a half decent engineering program that would take a kid with his record; drop in grades, unexplained absences, missing class, a disciplinary record, etc. Plus there was a decent saturation of both magic and ectoplasm in Gotham’s air. After he got accepted he decided to tell his parents he was Phantom. They reacted surprisingly well all things considered. They were horrified to learn they’d been hunting their son but it quickly turned into acceptance to listen to what he had to tell them. Now they turned their obsession from hunting ghosts to learning more about ghost more humanely. He also managed to get his former rouges to agree to call off any major shenanigans in favor of less destructive outlets. (He got Ember a TikTok and a YouTube channel, he set up a drag racing circuit in the realms for Johnny and Kitty, let Technus enter the internet as long as he stayed within Amity’s grid or help Ember manage her stuff, allowed Desiree grant wishes for Make a Wish Foundation kids so long as she didn’t horribly twist them, etc.)

Now with the town not at constant risk of danger and his parents agreeing to really handle any rouge ghosts, Danny could leave Amity with a clear conscience. His friends were also growing up and heading to their own colleges. Tucker was heading to Ivy University in New England, which rivaled MIT in terms technological prestige, and Sam decided on Vandermeer University in Pittsburg, which had a reputation for being a very liberal, anti-authority campus. Although their trio would be spread out, Danny found comfort in the fact that they’d all moved from the Midwest to the Northeast.

With promises to stay in touch a visit. Danny got set up in GCU’s dorms, ready to move into the next chapter of his life.

~

Danny Fenton was 20 when Tim Drake (age 19 but nearing 20) officially became one of his best friends.

They had been introduced to each other by their mutual friend Sebastian Ives for a new Warlocks and Warriors campaign. Their friendship extended beyond WnW when they ended up on the same Applied Physics and Mechanics class. It was cemented when they got pair up for a project in class and had to spend lots of time around each other.

Danny didn’t mind that Tim tended to be a bit flaky and Tim didn’t mind that Danny was possibly not 100% human. They didn’t ask each other too many questions about that stuff. They knew the other had something odd about him and that was fine with them. It was nice to have a causal friend they could be normal with, without being questioned about their more peculiar behaviors.

They officially became best friends when the built a Rube Goldberg machine with a working trebuchet within an hour of the three they had to complete it for their Applied Phys-Mech final. Danny introduced Tim to Sam, Tucker and Jazz. Tim introduced him to Steph, Tam, and Cass. They texted and hung out fairly often. They truly did consider each other one their best friends.

~

Danny Fenton is 22 when he meets Tim’s family.

Tim’s 21st birthday is coming up and he has plans with his family the day of and is going out with his friends, including a couple from out of town, that night. They want to take him out for his first drink and it’s fortunate timing since it’s the weekend so nobody has to worry about classes. Everyone who was going was already informed that Tim would be spending most of the day with his family before Steph and Cass would bring to the club everyone was meeting up at. Which is why it’s purely a coincidence when he runs into them at BatBurger during the lunch rush.

Danny had just picked up the part-time job to earn a little extra cash to pay for his hobbies. Tim new about it but didn’t know the exact location he worked. That’s why they were both presently surprised when they heard each others voices in the drive through. When they pulled up to window Danny saw his friend leaning over a tired looking black-haired man, trying to stick his head out of the drivers window to give Danny a maniacal grin.

He quickly introduced the other passengers of the car as his dad, Bruce, and three of his brothers Dick, Jason, and Duke. He mentioned he had a fourth brother, Damian, who was still at home. Danny couldn’t really see everyone all that well on account of they were inside a car but he happily greeted them as well. They laughed and Danny wished Tim a happy birthday saying he’d see him at his celebration later tonight before handing them their food. He could the rowdy boys ribbing their brother as the car drove away and Danny resumed his work.

That incident seemed to have opened a gate because now Tim felt more comfortable inviting him over when his brothers were still around the house. He occasionally talked about his family more and Danny returned the favor letting snippets of his own family spill a little more. Occasionally, he’d see Tim’s family outside of his interactions with Tim.

He’d run into Damian, and sometimes Bruce or Dick was with him, at the museum or in the park while the younger had been walking his dog and stopped to say hi a couple of times. He chatted with Dick a couple of times when they were both in line to get coffee at a cafe. He saw Duke on a college tour once and waved at him.

The family member he probably saw the most other that Tim (and by extension Cass) was actually Jason. He’d ended up ditching BatBurger to get some more practical experience at an apprenticeship at the auto shop Jason went to to get his motorcycle serviced. The two of them got along pretty well and would often make conversation when Jason was waiting on his bike to be ready or to get his bill.

At first is was small talk about little things like how he and Tim were doing in class or how their days were going but they soon grew to have genuine interests in each other. Jason let Danny talk about space and mechanics and even gave his own thoughts sometimes, once helping Danny realize he was over complicating the circuit board of the device he was building. In return Danny let Jason ramble to him about literature, even taking the initiative to read a book Jason mentioned so he could talk to him about it better. Their conversation tended to be on the briefer side but were always enjoyable to both parties.

Danny actually liked being around Jason a lot but didn’t really bring that fact up a lot around Tim as it didn’t seem necessary. Tim was pretty glad that Danny got along with his family but he preferred to keep them in separate places in his mind. Danny knew and respected that, only really mentioning that he’d seen them recently and that they’d told him to say hi on their behalf (or die in Damian’s case occasionally).

~

Tim Drake was 22 when he came to a horrific realization.

Well, perhaps horrific was a bit of an exaggeration. Tim wasn’t necessarily horrified by the revelation. In all honesty he didn’t know how to feel. He felt an odd mixture of protectiveness, possessiveness, confusion, and optimism(?).

You see, Tim and Danny had been hanging out in the campus center, studying and goofing off when he got a text from Jason saying he was coming to pick him up for family dinner at the manor since he was closest and Dick was busy picking up Duke and Damian from their after school clubs.

“What’s up?” Danny asked him curiously.

Tim set his phone on the table and started putting his stuff away. “My brother is coming to pick me up for family dinner so I gotta head out soon.”

“Ah well I should probably get going too. Tell Dick I said hi.”

“Actually, it’s Jason. Dick is picking up Duke and Damian,” he said shoving his textbook into his bag.

“Oh? That’s nice of him. Hey do you wanna just head out together?” Danny asked, fidgeting with his hoodie strings.

Tim noticed a slight strain in Danny’s voice at the mention of Jason but didn’t comment. He just nodded his head sure and walked outside with Danny. They got out to the street when Tim realized he’d left his phone in the library. He faced palmed and asked Danny if he could hold his stuff so it wouldn’t slow him down as he ran back to the campus center to get his phone. Danny agreed to and hold his stuff and wait for Jason while Tim went back.

After getting his phone Tim started heading back to where he left Danny when he saw that Jason had arrived that Jason had arrived and was talking to Danny. He was about to call out to them when he noticed several things in quick succession. Danny was fidgeting with his hoodie, something he tended to do when nervous. The tips of Danny’s ears were a light shade of pink (it isn’t cold out yet?). Danny looked deeply absorbed in his conversation with Jason in a way that reminded Tim of how he talked about space. And Jason seemed just as absorbed in the conversation as well.

The gears in Tim’s head went into overdrive and he realized ‘Ah- Danny has a crush on Jason’. His eyes widened as his head whipped around to examine Jason again. He saw a look of genuine fondness in his eyes. Thus Tim was confronted with the aforementioned horrific realization and complicated feelings. Tim didn’t know whether to laugh, cry, or both.

‘My dumbass best friend has a crush on my brother. And worse(?), my idiot brother returns those feelings.’

[miniaturesuitgladiator]

What if neglected mk reader was part of the tournament before they left their world, like Scorpion's 'training' was throwing them headfirst into battle against some of the more 'side' characters like Reptile or Frost? (Ik they are important to the actual mk storyline, but they arent in this story.)

I keep imagining that someone from reader's original world coming back for revenge for beating them as a kid and declaring mortal kombat, and since its been declared- the same rules apply, neither party is able to back down even if they wanted to. So here these two are, going at it to the death- how is the batfamily gonna react?

I definitely think that scorpion would make little mortal kombat reader fight stronger opponents. Like reptile or frost. But like keep in mind that mortal kombat reader was like 6-7 years old when she left.

So like imagine losing to a six or seven year old? That would be shameful and would probably take away your honor.

Especially in the mortal kombat universe. Where everyone fights to be the best. Like you probably shamed there name and their families name.

It was like they lost to a baby. Which they kinda did. Like it was so bad that no one even thought they were good enough to fight against.

So of course there waiting for revenge. But like I'd like to imagine that it's not that simple for just anyone to travel another universe.

But like when reader returns to mortal kombat world? Oh they have a whole lot of enemies waiting to gain back their honor.

And the best part? Reader doesn't even remember fighting them. Like..

" Y/N Hasashi you took everything from me. I challenge you to a duel to the death."

And readers just standing there confused because like who the hell are these people and why do they want to fight me?

"Bro I don't even know you"

And their just like tf? She ruined my life and she don't even remember me.

But readers just standing there all nonchalant as of she didn't just get challenged to a fight to the death.

"Bro last time I was here I didn't even know my ABC."

But like can you imagine batfam finally finds you after finding away to travel to the mortal kombat universe. And they see reader just nonchalantly talking to a huge reptile who's literally talking about how their gonna tear reader apart.

And readers just using all her brainrot that she got from gotham to annoy the huge terrifying reptile.

"Wait so your saying I ripped off your arm?"

"Yes that's exactly what I'm saying."

"Cap. I was like three feet tall last time I was here."

And their just staring at reader like 😒😒😒

"........."

And bruce who's the most shocked of all because like what do you mean you teared off his arm and you don't even remember!

Because bruce was like when I first met you you loved my little pony! And now your telling them that the same little girl six year old who was obsessed with hello kitty and my little pony was fighting thirty year old monsters! And winning!

And readers just standing their like "So.....we gonna fight or nah.... cause not to sound like a big back but I'm lowkey hungry."

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