#fuck the world i’m a panda

[x-heesy]

#Masterplan 🖕🏽

𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 𝗥𝗘𝗠𝗜𝗫

𝗦𝝝𝗥𝗥𝗬: 𝗡𝝝𝗧 𝗦𝝝𝗥𝗥𝗬

𝗣𝗨𝗥𝗥𝗙𝗘𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗦 𝝠 𝗠𝗬𝗧𝗛 / 𝗜𝗧’𝗦 𝝠 𝗧𝗥𝝠𝗣 / 𝗕𝗥𝗘𝝠𝗞 𝗙𝗥𝗘𝗘 / 𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗜𝝝𝗡 𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 / 𝗖𝗛𝝝𝝝𝗦𝗘 𝗪𝗜𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗬 / 𝗪𝗘𝗜𝗥𝗗 𝗜𝗦 𝝠 𝗖𝝝𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧 / 𝗡𝝝𝗧𝗘 𝗧𝝝 𝗠𝗬𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗙 / 𝗬𝝝𝗨 𝝠𝗥𝗘 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝝝𝝠𝗗 /𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦𝝠𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗕𝗜𝗚𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 / 𝗠𝗬 𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗗𝝝 / 𝗟𝝝𝗩𝗘 & 𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝝝𝗩𝗘 / 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘 & 𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘 / 𝗞𝗘𝗘𝗣 𝗜𝗧 𝗦𝗜𝗠𝗣𝗟𝗘 / 𝗞𝗘𝗘𝗣 𝗜𝗧 𝗥𝗘𝝠𝗟 / 𝗩𝗘𝗧𝝝 / 𝗘𝗘𝗞 𝗣𝗘𝝝𝗣𝗟𝗘 / 𝗛𝝝𝝝𝗗𝗜𝗘 𝗠𝝝𝝝𝗗𝗬 / 𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗦𝗧 𝗠𝝝𝝝𝗗 𝗕𝝝𝝠𝗥𝗗 @frenchpsychiatrymuderedmycnut @derflaneur 𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗗𝗥𝗨𝗚𝗦𝝠𝗡𝗗𝗦𝝝𝗖𝗞𝗦𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛𝗛𝝝𝗟𝗘𝗦 / 𝗙𝗟𝗨𝗙𝗙 𝗬𝝝𝗨, 𝗬𝝝𝗨 𝗙𝗟𝗨𝗙𝗙𝗜𝗡 𝗙𝗟𝗨𝗙𝗙 / 𝗣𝗨𝗡𝗞𝗦𝝠𝗥𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗗𝗘𝝠𝗗 ​/ 𝗡𝝝 𝗚𝝝𝗗𝗦 𝗡𝝝 𝗠𝝠𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦 / 𝗣𝗥𝝝 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘 𝗠𝗙𝗭 / 𝗣𝗛𝗨𝗖𝗞 𝗧𝗛𝝠 𝗦𝗬𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗠 / 𝗜 𝗗𝝝𝗡’𝗧 𝗚𝗜𝗩𝗘 𝝠 𝗣𝗛𝗨𝗖𝗞 / 𝗘𝗡𝗘𝗥𝗚𝗬𝗦𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗘𝗥𝗭 𝗡𝝝𝗧 𝗪𝗘𝗟(𝗟) 𝗖𝗨𝗠 / 𝗙𝝝𝝝𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝝠𝗥𝝝𝗨𝗡𝗗 / 𝗘𝗘𝗞 𝗣𝗘𝝝𝗣𝗟𝗘 / 𝗧𝝝 𝝠𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗛𝝠 𝗟𝗨𝗩𝝠𝗭 / 𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 𝝝𝗥 𝗗𝗜𝗘 / 𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 & 𝗖𝗥𝗬 / 𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 𝗠𝗬 𝗟𝗜𝗙𝗘

#justanfriendlyreminder

#thelittlethingsarethebigthings

#autosuggestion #pointofview #codingyourself #programyourself #endlessness #creatingyourself #neverstoplearning

#fantasy #empathy #equality #respect #love #basics

#xheesy #myart #glitchart

#textart #artfulquotes #typography #expressyourself #iphoneart #newcontemporary #popart #artsyfartsy #artfuckery

#nowplaying

SubZer0 by ho99o9 🖕🏽

[yuuuhiii]

wanna go for a ride ?

minors this is not for you!

includes : riding Yuuta’s washboard abs :P, 1.2k words, little overstimulation, making out and just smut in general;D , Yuuta’s a little tease mwhahaha and kinda sub reader

Yuuta was more of a giver than reciever. He adored giving you gifts and affection.

But his favorite thing in the world was pleasuring you.

He just loved your fucked out look when he’d be blowing your back out or even better, eating you out. The way your eyes would cross or roll back was always a sight for sore eyes.

Your orgasms and the noises he pulled from you were all he needed to pleasure himself. Giving that Yuuta was like this, he always fed into your fantasies.

You wanted to try something new in the bedroom? He was all for it. If it meant you’d be happy and well taken care of he’d do anything for you.

Even though Yuuta has never judged you for your new ways to spice things up in the bedroom it was still embarrassing to mention things to him.

Like the time you mentioned to sit on his face was definitely a night to remember. Not just because of how fucked out he left you but the whole conversation before hand.

Your boyfriend was just so sweet you almost feel like you’re tainting his bashful and pure personality with your lewd desires.

However he was just as filthy as you.

You sat in your living room in boredom as you waited for him to get home. He had gone to train with Inumaki and Panda, letting you know that he was on his way back.

Although throughout his time there you playfully asked for a picture of him. You were sent a picture of your boyfriend with no shirt on, chasing around panda who had stolen said shirt, as Inumaki took a selfie.

He texted, ‘your boyfriend is a little busy.’ You would be laughing it off but when you zoom in you softly gasp at the sight of Yuuta.

He’s drenched in sweat, his toned body on full display. Maybe it’s the lighting or the sweat but his abs looked so rough, so sturdy.

Absentmindedly your thighs clench, chewing on your lip at the sight. Your thoughts were blowing through a mile a minute.

It’s not like you never saw his bare body before, your hands would always find his abs when he was on top of you or you were sucking him off. And they were hard, whenever they clenched beneath your fingertips.

You squirm in your panties, already feeling yourself growing wet at the all these thoughts. You let out a shuddering breath and your boyfriend walks in through the door, causing you to quickly exit out of the picture. God only knows how long you’ve been staring at it.

“Hi baby!” He quips walking over to you and planting a kiss on your temple.

“I’m gonna shower, then we can watch our tv show ok?”

You nod, blinking at the tv in front of you. Yuuta comes out of the shower soon enough and you haven’t been paying attention to the show in front of you at all. You were definitely going to have to watch back.

“Babe?” You snap out of it, gazing up at your boyfriend as his face laces with concern. His big hand drapes over your thigh, rubbing it comfortingly.

“Are you okay?” He tilts his head and you gulp.

You avert your eyes, already growing embarrassed. Yuuta always found your flushed state cute. The way your cheeks turned pink and your cheeks puffed out just a little. He grabs your chin, tilting it up to face him.

“What’s wrong hm?” His big blue eyes blinking at you. You wanted to voice your new idea, but you felt bad that he had already took a shower, not wanting to dirty your boyfriend.

“Nothing s’fine Yuu.” You smile, turning back to the tv.

He narrows his eyes, his lips teasingly moving to your neck, placing a playful chomp on your skin. You squeal your hands shooting up to his shoulders.

“Dont lie to me.” He says almost as a warning and he can feel your whole body exceeding with heat.

“Um I was just thinking about something.” You mumble and his elbows move to rest on the sides of your hips, his lips placing kisses down your stomach. You squirm and he smirks, peeking his head from under your shirt to look back at you.

“What were you thinking about?” He says a little too innocently, you whine, staring at the ceiling.

“Come on tell me please?” You cave at his words, with a shaky sigh you tell him.

“I-I wanna ride your abs.” You cover your face and he perks up.

“L-Like you know when you made me grind on your thigh? I wanna do that with your abs.” You ramble out and fuck.

He’s already growing hard at the thought of you on top of him.

“We can do that.” He smiles, standing up and reaching for your hand. You shyly take it as he leads you to the bedroom.

He walks backwards as his legs hit the edge of the bed, sitting down. He pulls you on top of him but not without connecting your lips first.

They moved together so perfectly, he knew you were made just for him. His hands glide down your body, his hand rubbing you through your already soaked panties.

You moan, your hands digging into his shoulders.

“Yuu.” You whine and he smirks against your neck. Sucking and biting, claiming you as his.

“You’re so wet honey. Have you been thinking about this the whole time?” You nod dumbly, already grinding down against his hand.

“My poor baby, look at you hump my hand. Thought you wanted to get off on my abs?” He teases and you whine.

“I do!”

Your hands move to rip off his t-shirt, and moves to pull your panties down. He’s laid against the bed now, big hands sliding along your waist, guiding you up and over his abdomen.

Your eyes are lidded with lust, your chest heaving. Your hands shoot out on his chest, gliding your folds right against his toned stomach.

You gasp, juices coating his whole stomach. Yuuta watches you closely, you’re already shaking, small whines and moans leaving you as you get off on him.

“God you’re so pretty, so warm too.” He praises and you whine.

“Yuu help me please.” You pout as your thighs begin to burn.

“Of course baby.” He grins sitting up, you gasp at how much harder they felt, giving your clit the perfect pressure.

“O-Oh my god!” You moan loudly, shoving your face in his neck. You lick and suck and he hisses, almost growling as he moves you faster against him.

“Y-Yuu so close..” You moan in his ear.

“That’s good, cum for me like the good girl you are yea?” He whispers in your ear and when the words leave his mouth he’s flexing his abs. You’re thrashing in his arms as he grinds you down harder and faster.

“F-Fuck!” You squeal your high washing over you in an instant.

Your juices shoot out and everywhere on his stomach, coating the bed and his pants. Yuuta is overstimulating you at this point, feeling your clit spasm against his stomach. You drool against his shoulder, going limp in his arms.

He pulls you off of him, setting you up on the bed. Your eyes are almost closed and he grinds his hard on against your thigh.

“You can go for one more round right baby?” He whispers in your ear, kissing and nibbling it.

Yuuta loved pleasuring you a little too much.

Can you blame him though?

He just wants to make his sweet girl feel good♡.

© yuuuhiii 24 : don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms

[midnightwriter21]

jjk hcs: the jjk boys as boyfriends

characters: yuji itadori, megumi fushiguro, yuta okkotsu

warnings: none (i think?)

AN: if there’s anymore boyfriend hcs that you’d like to see lmk!! read gojo & nanami as boyfriends HERE

YUJI ITADORI

oh girl i am JEALOUS

he can be a little air headed at times but he’s the sweetest bf ever

i say he’s air headed but he’s actually very attentive

you get half an inch trimmed off your hair?

he notices immediately

“babe your hair looks great!”

notices everything about you actually

from your favorite color

to the brand of PENS you prefer to use

who tf notices the brand of pens people use?!?

yuji does

yk the tiktoks of boys picking entire BUSHES of flowers for their girlfriends

that’s him.

he straight up rips a whole bush out of the ground from the front of jujutsu high to give to you

principal yaga was not amused

gojo was tho

HE PRINTS OUT YOUR INSTAGRAM PICTURES TO REPLACE THE POSTERS OF MODELS ON HIS WALL

he’s so proud that your his girl fr

oh and he’s gotta hella pet names for you too

they’re all super basic

babe, sweetheart, cutie, etc.

he flirts w u like y’all aren’t together

awful pickup lines and everything

“do you have a mirror in ur pants? cause i can see myself in them.”

if u don’t think he’s the cutest then u can go argue with the wall bye

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

he has me in a chokehold

anyways

at the beginning of y’all’s relationship he’s awkward as fuck

but he eases up pretty quickly

veryyyyyy private with y’all’s relationship

if you somehow get him to hold your hand in public let alone give you a kiss?!?

girl count ur blessings fr

and it’s not bc he’s embarrassed of your relationship or anything no ma’am

it’s bc he would NEVER hear the end of it from gojo, nobara, and yuji

valid excuse

but when you two are alone?

oh girl it’s like he’s glued to you

when i say clingy? i mean it

also

king of nap time!!

he’s kidnapping u, bring you to his dorm room, dropping u on the bed, and laying completely on top of you

swear it’s his solution to everything

ur tired? it’s nap time

sad abt something? it’s nap time

a curse beat ur ass? it’s nap time

gojo is being annoying? it’s nap time

nap time cures everything ong

he’s not too crazy w the pet names

in private he’ll call you babe

in public you’re lucky if he adds a -chan to ur name lol

he’s so pretty boy

also can we appreciate his gorgeous luscious eyelashes?

no? okay

YUTA OKKOTSU

i would give my first born to make him feel happy, safe, and loved

KING OF MY HEART

he’s so baby

he’s the type of bf that no matter how long y’all have been dating he still gets flustered over you

y’all been together for an hour? he’s blushing when you give him a kiss on the cheek

y’all been together for a week? he’s blushing when you give him a kiss on the cheek

y’all been together for a year? he’s BLUSHING WHEN YOU GIVE HIM A KISS ON THE CHEEK

HE. IS. BLUSHING.

which is so incredibly endearing and innocent

but don’t get me wrong

mess with this man too much?

oh he’ll snap

he has the patience of a saint. but when it runs out?

oh ur in for it miss gurl

period.

teasing him a lil too much tryna make him flustered

when he finally snaps he is switching that dynamic up real quick

now he’s the one smirking and feeling all smug while you’re the one with the bright red face

ahem…

anyways

yuta’s love for you is very intense

now don’t start thinking HE is intense cause no

i mean yuta loves you so much that he might just crawl up inside ur body and live there

that type of intense

you occupy his mind 99.9% of the time

he’s on a mission and has time to stroll through the mall

“oh y/n would like that” aND HE’S BUYING IT

he’s chit chatting with inumaki and panda

best believe he finds a way to bring you up in conversation

“oh! that reminds me y/n said something the other day about…”

he is the softest ever when it comes to pet names

sweetheart, my love, princess, etc.

i’m so soft for him he deserve the world

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Minecraft

Alien: What is the point of this game? Human: It doesn’t have one; you can do whatever you want. Alien: Can I burn this world and leave nothing but ash? Human: Disturbingly specific but go ahead.

------------

Alien: How do I get wood? Human: Punch some trees. Alien: ……….. Alien: Punch some trees. Human: Yup. Alien: Are you mocking me? Human: What? Alien: Do you think I’m some sort of joke? Alien: An object of ridicule for your amusement!? Human: Okay, before you over react let me just show you. Alien: *Starts reaching for sword when they see the human literally start punching trees for wood* Alien: Oh. *Puts sword away* My apologies. -------------

Human: Why aren’t you playing? Alien: There is a monster in my home. Human: Is it an ender man? Alien: No. Human: Skeleton? Alien: No. Human: Creeper? Alien: Nope. Human: ………… Human: Zombie? Alien: Thwarp no. Human: *Takes controller and goes inside the house* What could it possibly be- *Sees creature* Human: That is a pig. Alien: It is the stuff of nightmares. Human: What the hell is scary about a pig? Alien: Look into its eyes. Alien: It has no soul; no remorse. ----------------

Alien: What are you making? Human: A doomsday device. Alien: Are you allowed to build that on a public server? Alien: Surely the admins would seek to stop you. Human: They can’t stop it if they can’t find it. Alien: What did you build? Human: I placed a claim block, fifty blocks down, and started a cow farm. Alien: That doesn’t sound so bad. Human: There are currently five hundred cows in a four block pen. Human: I have seen the amount of lag it generates drive men to madness. Alien: You are the worst of your species. ---------------

Alien: How goes it? Human: I’ve created a massive creeper farm. Alien: Dear gods why?!?! Human: I want to see what happens when one of them is hit by lightning. Alien: Why? Human: I heard that it turns them into a super creeper. Alien: Why would you want to make the sentient explosive even deadlier? Human: To leave as a surprise for that griefer who blew up my chicken farm last week. Alien: Ah. ----------------

Alien: What are you building today? Human: A nether portal Alien: Is that the purple doorway thing in front of you? Human: Yup. Alien: What does it do? Human: It’s a portal to this world’s version of hell. Alien: WHAT?! Alien: Is that not dangerous? Human: I mean, I want glow stone for my city; and the only place to get glow stone is in the nether. Alien: I weep for this world that has you as its caretaker.   ---------------

Alien: Why is all the sand from my beach gone? Human: Needed it. Alien: For what? Human: Copious amounts of TNT. Alien: Do I even want to know why? Human: Remember that village that I defended only for the golem to attack me? Alien: Yeah. Human: Good. Human: Because that memory of yours is all that is left of it. -----------

*stumbling down extensive mine network to find human friend deep underground.* Alien: You ever coming topside again? Alien: I just found these things called “Pandas” and they are adorable. Human: Not until I find a diamond. Alien: Oh gods, here we go again. Human: There’s only fucking copper down here! Human: What the hell can I even use for copper!?! Alien: I think you can make lightning rods out of them. Human: Oh yeah, sure, lightning rods. Human: I’m sure those will be useful SIXTY BLOCKS UNDERGROUND!!!! ------------

Human: What’s this? Alien: I’ve created an elaborate rail system that will allow me to transfer the citizens of one village to another village to make it a super village! Human: Isn’t that considered kidnapping and human trafficking? Alien: ……….. -------------

Alien: I have created these five iron golems to protect my home. Alien: Nothing shall destroy it while I am away! *Alien leaves into mines* *Returns after an hour of mining to find the entire home destroyed by creepers* Alien: What the flarp! Alien: Where are my go- *Turns to see all five golems distracted by some flowers* -------------

Alien: Something just occurred to me. Human: What’s that? Alien: If you can use the portal to this nether, why can’t things down there use it to escape? Human: Pfft. Human: That’s impossible. Alien: Is it? Human: *Dramatic pause before sprinting over to portal with alien behind him* *Both arrive to find legion of pigmen pouring out from the portal* Alien: Congratulations, you created the end times. Alien: I hope that glow stone was worth it. Human: *draws sword* It really was.

[yongbokology]

baby daddy! satoru x baby mama! reader

black coded reader <3

warnings; none really, just fluff tbh

wc; 1.1k

an: maybe i’ll write a part where the actual baby making takes place if this doesn’t flop 🤷🏾‍♀️

* baby daddy! satoru who looks at you with wide eyes as you show up to his apartment with a positive pregnancy test. before this situation you both were friends with benefits for a year and some change; having met him during your shift at the bar you currently work at.

* baby daddy! satoru who nearly falls over once you decide that you want to keep it (after all, it’s him we’re talking about)

* baby daddy! satoru who respects your decision after the initial shock and let’s it be known that’s he not going to be a deadbeat… (unlike someone)

“please don’t tell me we have to get married.”

you roll your eyes as you continue to clean the used shot glasses left behind by patrons.

“i’d rather self amputate my arms and legs, satoru.”

* baby daddy! satoru who tries to make it to as much doctors appointments as he can— sometimes even taking off of work for them.

“so, you’re currently at the end of your first trimester. everything is looking good, baby is looking healthy. any questions?” the doctor smiles sweetly at the both of you as she looks through yours and the baby’s charts.

satoru sits up from his chair, eyes perking up in the process “how long until you can tell if it’s going to be the most powerful being in the world?”

“satoru!”

“what… just curious..”

* baby daddy! satoru who secretly buys everything on your registry.

* baby daddy! satoru who watches you marvel at everything he bought, acting surprised with you.

* baby daddy! satoru who poses the idea of the both of you having a place together after a serious talk with shoko.

“don’t you think it would be safer for both her and the baby? y’know cuz you’re practically cursed.” a freshly lit newport hangs off her lips as she eyes her old friend.

“what?! i’m not cursed..”

“think about it— the world shifted off kilter when you were born. people were quite literally planning your murder before you could walk. you don’t think they’ll be rubbing their hands at the chance to get at your offspring?”

satoru breaks his friend’s stare and chooses silence, opting to take another bite out of his onigiri.

* baby mama! reader who accepts the offer because you’re literally just a twenty-something girl trying to navigate this unfair world, living paycheck to paycheck (😪)

— fear not tho because baby daddy! satoru got his baby mama covered!

* baby mama! reader who gets to know satoru more since moving in and he’s honestly such an interesting character.

* baby mama! reader who thinks it’s truly nice seeing him for who he was rather than him being a complete whiny mess after an orgasm for a change.

“do you just starve yourself all day? there’s literally nothing here to eat, toru!” you have your hand placed on six month old pregnant stomach and the other is holding open his stupidly expensive smart fridge that currently has one singular bento box that is half eaten.

“i don’t know how to cook!”

“good lord, what am i going to do with you?”

* baby mama! reader who takes off from the bar after satoru essentially pleads on his knees for you to stay home.

- he eventually convinces you to quit altogether.

* baby mama! reader who learns the truth about satoru’s job after waiting for him at the and seeing a fucking panda just holding a conversation with some weird kid with markings around his mouth, simply replying with “salmon.”

* baby daddy! satoru who thought it would be fine to just have you sit tight for a couple of minutes while he checks up on his students since he’s been off from work but clearly he was wrong when he comes back to see you bug-eyed and pacing back and forth.

you’re already trampling over your own words when satoru walks over to you with a concerned look on his face. “w-why did i just see a fucking talking panda satoru!”

he’s sliding a hand over his face and is pulling you into the nearest room and sliding the door shut behind him. it’s there that he explains the world of jujutsu sorcery and what he does and why you saw a talking panda roaming about.

he decides to kill two birds with one stone that day and introduces you to his students and the both of you are bombarded with a magnitude of questions.

there’s a brunette who hasn’t taken her hands off your stomach since introduction and there’s a pink haired young man who’s enamored with you overall.

“kinda surprising someone would willingly have a child with you.”

the brunette takes her hands off your stomach to pound her fist into the dark-haired kid whose names you learned was megumi.

(you caught a glimpse of a younger version of him tucked into satoru’s wallet after spending the whole day in the grocery store)

“just because we’re all thinking it doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud, fushiguro.”

* baby mama! reader who grows fond of the trio after initial introduction and ends up seeing them more often after that.

* baby daddy! satoru who doesn’t mind one bit and opens up his house so you could spend more time with them.

* baby daddy! satoru who’s in the middle of an intense fight but stops once he hears the specific ringtone he picked out for you.

“give me a minute would you? someone rather important is calling.”

his opponent is stunned and confused at the sheer audacity yet they don’t dare move an inch.

satoru presses his phone to his ear, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he answers you. “what’s going on, pretty girl?”

“baby. coming. now.”

“be right there.”

satoru’s smile drops as he reverts his attention back to his opponent, his arms preparing to conjure a finishing blow.

“sorry to cut our playtime short but someone truly worthy of my time just called.”

* baby daddy! satoru who makes it just in time to see his beautiful son being born.

* baby mama! reader who’s exhausted from giving life to a literal being. you’ve got your arms wrapped around the newborn that finally stopped crying all while sharing glances between you and satoru.

* baby daddy! satoru who has this weird feeling in his stomach after receiving his son in his arms. the expression on his face resembles one of pure bliss as he takes a seat in the chair not too far from your hospital bed.

after much-needed reassurance and satoru helping you to sleep, he’s slowly pacing around the room with your son, whispering sweet nothings and quiet promises.

“not that i doubted it for a second but you’re certainly mine alright.”

he smiles at the piercing blue eyes staring right back at his own.

* baby mama! reader who isn’t actually sleeping and watches the both of them with tired eyes and in that moment knows she made the right decision and is content with the possibility of a domestic life with the strongest sorcerer of the modern age.

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© yongbokology y2k23

feedback is encouraged.

boarder credz @leopardprnt

[ponderingmoonlight]

I LOVED the jjk men sharing a bed! How would they react if their confident s/o suddenly turned shy because of this compliment? Bonus points if they (jjk men) don't express their love verbally much and also a little shy. So, how about Yuuta, Geto and Megumi? If you write more, can you also maybe add Gojo? Thank you so much!

Please forgive me for not adding Gojo, the Megumi part just escalated too quickly and since I'm having a little bit of a Gojo addiction, one fanfic without him won't hurt 🤍 Let me know what you think!

JJK men turning the usual confident reader shy

Pairings: Yuta x reader; Geto x reader; Megumi x reader (fem is mentioned)

Warnings: tw for Megumi's part regarding body image (contains insults), reader doubts herself

Yuta Okkotsu

You look absolutely neck breaking gorgeous in your summer dress, body hugged in just the right spots. How is this the first time Yuta has ever seen you in something apart from your uniform? Unbelievable, how unacceptable.

“Hey Yuta! Do you even recognize me?”

Your sweet voice rings through his head while you wave at him with your breathtaking smile plastered on your face. Oh, he is definitely recognizing you.

He can feel his face heat up immediately as you start walking towards him, your partially exposed legs moving so elegant that he can feel his knees go weak. Of course he was always very aware of the fact that you are a striking beautiful person, but that summer dress does things to him he can’t quite comprehend.

“Pretty unusual to see me in something else than that uniform, huh? I thought that a change of scenery doesn’t hurt and it’s my day off”, you explain briefly with your firm but tender voice.

Pure confidence is dripping from your features, it’s like you know that the world belongs to you. Well, his world does in fact. And at the moment it feels like this world spins a thousand times faster than usual.

“You look like an angel.”

The second the words slip out of his tongue, he knows that he’s fucked. Yuta never complimented you, always admired you in silence. Why did this stupid words leave his mouth? You must think he’s a freak, that he’s a disgusting pervert-

“W-what?”, you stutter.

His eyes dart towards you in surprise. There you stand, completely flustered with your cheeks redden and eyes widen in a way Yuta has never seen before. Your usual composed facial features are completely screwed up, your hand covers your mouth in a desperate attempt to hide your…embarrassment.

Are you actually shy because he complimented you?

“I’m so sorry, (y/n)! I didn’t mean to irritate you”, he babbles out.

Oh, he screwed up. You’ll probably never talk to him again, he ruined not only your friendship, but made you feel uncomfortable too. But you are so precious, how was he supposed to contain himself when you come here on this lovely summer day, looking absolutely stunning in that dress?

“I…It’s just…I guess no one ever said something so genuinely nice to me”, you mutter.

You know by the glitter of purity in his wide-open orbs that Yuta truly meant what he said. But that something so nice would come out his mouth…Of course this wasn’t the first compliment you ever got, but oh how sweet it was. Not only was his lovelier than any before, but it came from him.

Yuta. The boy you’ve been admiring since he joined Jujutsu High. The boy you’ve always thought saw nothing but an ordinary girl in you.

“That’s a shame. Honestly, I thing you are one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen. Not only externally, but everything about you.”

“Stop”, you hush, hiding your face behind your hands while grinning like an idiot.

Suddenly, you feel as insecure as never before, completely thrown off track by his words. It is a little ridiculous to be honest. After all, Yuta is a nice boy and his words were simple. But you can’t remember a single time he ever complimented your looks. Basically everyone else did, whether Gojo, Panda or even Megumi. But Yuta…hearing those sweet words from Yuta’s mouth is something completely different and forces even your confident walls down.

“I’m so sorry if I made you feel bad”, Yuta apologizes.

“Feel bad? I think I never felt so good in my whole life. You are just so…sweet. Thank you.”

Your words catch him off guard and make his very own cheeks redden in an instant. You just called him sweet. (y/n), the girl he always turns his head for, the girl that lingers through his mind all day, just called him sweet.

“Uh…Thank you, (y/n)”, he mutters, heart almost beating out of his chest.

“Hey, would you mind to…To grab something to eat with me?”, you questions shyly while mindlessly tucking a strand of behind your ear.

“Yeah…sure! Let’s go!”

What an absolutely stunning way to start a day. With a new summer dress, a compliment of none other than Yuta and him by your side.

Suguru Geto

He can’t help but stare at you while you tear apart your teacher with nothing but logical arguments. It is threatening and scary to be honest, the way you carry yourself with so much pride and wisdom in your eyes. But Geto is just so mesmerized by the way your beautiful mouth works wonders, leaving everyone in the room in complete silence – even Satoru.

“You’re absolutely annoying, (y/n). But fine. We’ll do it your way, then. Now get off my sight”, Masamichi Yaga hums, rubbing his temples in complete annoyance.

With a curt bow you leave the classroom, a relieved smile plastered on your features. He doesn’t know what got into him, but the second your hair waves a last goodbye, he stands up and follows you down the hallway.

“Hey, (y/n)!”

“Oh, Geto, how nice to see you! Are you doing well? I heard your last mission was quite difficult to handle.”

There you stand with your piercing gaze darted towards him, gun of a mouth draped into a gentle smile. God, why do you have to be so gorgeous? Why is it so hard for him to keep his composure whenever you’re around? You’re just so damn strong, confidence dripping from every pore of your skilled self. Geto admired you the second you joined Jujutsu High, the first time you outsmarted Satoru and your words of wisdom that helped all of them through tough missions over and over. While he doesn’t consider himself an introvert, your presence always made his knees go weak, heart beating out of his chest. Geto tried to stay professional, to ignore the stinging presence of your striking looks and brain, but today…Today he can’t contain himself anymore.

“You’re really making a difference, (y/n). You know that?”

Your heart stops for a second, eyes widen in disbelief. You are known for your arguments and tactical skills, but Geto’s words… His oh so sweet words repeat themselves over and over again in your head. Someone might think you heard praises on a daily basis, whenever about your looks or your brain. But no. Nobody has actually told you that you matter, than your impact is really making a difference. Especially hearing this from Geto’s mouth, who’s an outstanding jujutsu sorcerer and never really complimented you in any way makes your heart drop.

“Do you…really mean it?”

Why is your voice suddenly so quiet and fragile? And why the hell are tears starting to sting in your eyes? You never cry, after all weeping doesn’t solve any problems. But his words aren’t just a random compliment, they touched your soul and filled you with love.

“Of course I mean it…I should have told you way sooner, but I really admire you. I don’t want to imagine where we would be without you…Where I would be without you. I just thought that you should know that…”

And there it is, his signature smile. The smile that could end wars with how welcoming it is.

“I didn’t know that I needed to hear something like this”, you mutter while whipping your now falling tears away with your sleeve.

Geto stops in his tracks, arms embracing you in a tight hug before he is able to stop himself.

“Don’t cry because of a simple compliment that was long overdue. I should have told you that way sooner. To be exact, every one of us should do that”, he whispers softly.

“Thank you Geto. I will always think of you when I’m doubting myself”, you sniffle, avoiding his gaze at any cost.

God, how embarrassing. But what a sweet moment this is at the same time. After all, Geto doesn’t compliment and hold you in his arms on a regular basis.

Megumi Fushiguro

It was never your style to cry about anything or anyone. But his words. His cruel words repeat themselves over and over inside your head.

I always thought you’re a little ugly anyway.

Maybe lose some weight before you talk to me again.

C’mon (y/n), she’s just prettier than you.

You should have known better. You should have known that your now ex-boyfriend means nothing but trouble, that he was never really in love and spit his venomous words exclusively to hit you where it hurts.

But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re sitting on the stairs on this lovely summer day while crying your eyes out. Maybe you really aren’t good enough. Your nose is too big, your eyes are too small, your face is a little too round to be lovely. And your body. God, at the moment you truly hate the way your own frame looks.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here, (y/n).”

Your body tenses up immediately while you try to wipe away your falling tears, hiding your face in sheer embarrassment. No, what on earth is Megumi Fushiguro doing here right now? You definitely don’t want him to see you cry, to admit that your ex was trash like he always said.

“Are you alright?”

His nearing footsteps vibrate through the stairs, making you fall into panic mode in an instant. No, please. You really want to be alone right now, you-

“Hey, what happened?”, his soft voice questions.

His long legs come to a stand to your left.

“None of your business, Fushiguro. I’m not in the mood to get picked at by you”, you mumble.

The second he sits down next to you, you immediately turn your body away from him. No way in hell is he seeing you cry today.

“To get picked at by me? You should know me better, (y/n). I can see clearly that you aren’t fine”, he responses, his tone showing his disappointment without a glimpse in his dark blue orbs.

Your eyes begin to water again at the sound of his voice.

“It seems like all I am is a disappointment these days I guess.”

He shifts his weight beside you, body drawing closer to yours. You are such a confident and outgoing person, it doesn’t suit you at all to sit on the stairs and cry. Something that really hurt must have happened. His features darken, hands balling into fists. Oh, he knows exactly what has happened.

“Did he say that, (y/n)? Did your boyfriend say such things to you?”

Megumi really tries to stay calm, to let his voice sound soft and unbothered, but he really wants to punch this jerk right now. It seems like he never really understood what a breathtaking gorgeous girl you are, that you could do so much better than this.

“He isn’t my boyfriend anymore”, you reply, your voice more bitter than you actually feel about that fact.

The relationship’s end isn’t what makes you feel this way. After all, you always knew that this was in no was a forever thing, that it was more like a pastime. But his cruel words simply leave you completely shattered, your heart scarred so deep that you can’t ignore it.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

You snort while side-eyeing Megumi.

“Sorry? Don’t be ridiculous. You never missed a chance to pick on me about him”, you comment dryly.

Oh, if you only knew. Megumi would never admit it, but he simply hated the idea of you having a boyfriend like him – a boyfriend who doesn’t treat you the way you deserve it when he could. Megumi would give you the world, he would carry you on his hands through every highs and lows.

But he would never admit that to you. Instead, he makes stupid comments about every little thing you do in a frantic attempt to keep himself together. Because if you ever catch a glimpse of his true feelings towards you, you’d probably never talk to him again.

“Might be true, but you’re feeling bad already.”

Not this time though. Not when you’re sitting next to him while being a complete mess, not when your puffy cheeks are proof enough than you sat here and cries for a while.

“You boys just never fail to hurt me I guess.”

“I would never hurt you”, he responses immediately, tongue faster than his mind.

Slowly, you turn your body to face him and his heart drops. You look nothing like yourself anymore, heartbroken in every way. What the hell happened?

“I couldn’t care less about the fact that he ended things. But I just feel like it was my fault partially. I guess I wasn’t attractive enough for him”, you mumble through your veil of tears.

Megumi can’t help but stare at you in disbelief. Did you really just say that? Did that jerk make you believe that you aren’t beautiful, that you aren’t worth his puny self? How ridiculous to even think that.

But he can tell by the hurt in your eyes that it must be true. Thick anger begins to rise inside Megumi.

“Did he say that, (y/n)? Did he say anything that implied that you’re not good looking?”, he asks with empty voice.

You cleverly avoid his gaze as you nod carefully. Megumi’s world stops for a moment. It’s so ridiculous, so unbelievable wrong for him that someone called the most beautiful human being on earth anything less than that.

“You have to be kidding, right? Because all I’m seeing is that you’re absolutely stunning. I could watch you for a lifetime, (y/n). You are so breathtaking that it hurts, everyone turns their heads after you. Don’t get me started on the way you are probably the only one that looks good in ratty pajamas, your stunning hair, well-formed hips or breathtaking eyes. For real, I’m convinced that all love songs have to be about you. Don’t let a jerk like him bring you down, don’t you dare to believe a single word of the bullshit he said, you heard me?”

He breathes heavy while all you can do is stare at him. No more tears fall from your cheeks, no more sniffles are heard. No, complete silence hangs between the two of you while Megumi immediately regrets his words. Maybe he took it too far, you must think that he’s a total freak for saying such things.

“Is this…really how you feel about me?”, you softly ask, your arms crossed in front of your chest.  

Fuck, your body immediately slips away a few inches, your hands feverishly playing with your hair. But something about your face changes. Is this a slight blush creeping up your puffy cheeks? And it almost looks like a small smile is forming on your delicate lips.

“I always felt that way about you, (y/n). Don’t think I’d made things up just to make you feel better”, he mutters while scratching his head.

“Oh”, you simply blur out while swallowing heavy.

Why the hell is he always acting this dumb when it comes to you? Megumi should know better, he is very aware of the fact that you and him will never be a thing, that he simply isn’t in your league. But now he probably ruined your friendship too.

Suddenly, your arms grip his tightly while you press your face against his shoulder. His heart drops into his pants, eyes wide open at this outburst. The two of you didn’t even share a hug until now.

“Thank you, Megumi. Your words mean the world to me”, you cry out, grabbing his arms even tighter than before.

Is he allowed to…touch you? Carefully, he places his hand on your back and begins to rub it in small circles.

“And you mean the world to me”, he speaks out, more to himself than to you.

[iqzo]

BEAUTY & A BEAST.

(nsfw, rapper connie)

BEING FRIEND WITH INFAMOUS Connie Springer. had it’s up and downs, specially with you being his manager. A lot of speculation about you and him having a relationship was bound to ignite.

After being caught with his crooked pointer finger resting beneath your chin, lifting it up as he stares intensely into your eyes while he held a umbrella in his next hand.

Of course shaderoom was the first to post it then TMZ nosey ass, and the rest of the world. Connie didn’t give a fuck about the accusations, but you did. Knowing how many businesses lines you had and how this rumor might take a toll on it.

Connie sat on the chair, writing lyrics for his new album which would be released in about 4 weeks or 3.

Bumping his head as he found the right words to rhyme with, and the incredible word play that had him hyped the most.

you entered the studio closing the door behind you, Connie turned and his eyes instantly roaming the tight turtle neck dress you wore that ended barely at your thighs.

wearing those big frame glasses Connie adored, and your long butterfly locks framing your face perfectly. you held a clipboard to your stomach resting it on the couch.

you walked up to connie, “Whatchu workin on?” Connie comely eyes glued to the lipgloss combo you had. the outer painted black while the inner was shined up with lipgloss.

“The angel song..” he replied his eyes still wandering around your body as you walked around him to look at the notebook yourself. Connie now hovering above you, your body inches away from his. “Ouu, i like this word play.” you smiled pointing at the same word play that had him hyped.

Connie smiled. wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you in closer, instantly taking a whiff of the perfume he had bought you for your birthday. “Connie..are you sniffing me?” you questioned, he lifts his head up from your neck.

“yeah, you smell nice.” he complemented, you casted a smile before looking back down at the notebook. “thank you,” you whispered.

Connie grabbed the chair and pulled it over, sitting down grabbing you down with him. landing on his lap, you continued to view his lyrics, your eyebrows furrowed up. “Is this a love song?” you questioned fixing yourself on his lap so you sat sideways, Connie inhaled deeply hoping you didn’t feel the boner.

“Yea.” he answered, low eyes glued to yours. you moved from side to side thinking he was zoomed out but his eyes followed every movement. “Stop staring at me.” you blushed covering your face with his notebook.

A small grin found its way on connie’s face, “You look fucking beautiful and you expect me to stop staring?” he asked leaning up to you, his mouth near your ear as he continued to talk soft with you. “This dress bout short as fuck, did anyone make you feel uncomfortable on your way here? just tell me and i’ll handle it, baby.” he whispered planting a kiss on your cheek after, you were getting wet and connie knew since he felt the heartbeats.

“n-no..” you whispered, watching his large veiny hands that were designed with rings and a small panda tattoo on the side of his pointer finger slowly waltzing up your thigh. “Con-connie..” Connie wrapped his free hand around your neck pulling your head back locking his lips with yours as the hand beneath your dress started pulling aside your drenched panties, legs spreading for more access.

Connie tongue slipped past your lips and roaming around your mouth, as you struggled to keep up with him since he had a finger already pumping inside you. he inserts a next one. both individuals curved instantly hitting that spot. causing a loud pornographic noise that made Connie pull away with a smirk, “right here?” he asked going more faster as you struggled with the word leaving your mouth.

“agh, c-con, i-i’m gonna, ahh” your legs shakes with a fountain of your juices squirting out landing on connie’s fingers as the rest went onto the floor.

you breathed heavily, while still feeling Connie kissing your neck. you groaned, he slides his fingers out and brought them to your lips, “open.” he said in a demanding tone, your shaky lips parted giving Connie the access to roughly shove his two fingers into your mouth. “Taste how good you are, baby.” he says watching as you licked his finger clean.

he slips his fingers out along with some spit dripping out, he quickly throws you over his shoulder which caught you off guard.

he rest you softly on the couch, sliding your dress up as he unbuckled his pants, zipping it down exposing the heavy bulge in his calvin klein.

“open up for me..” he says, you parted your lips and allowed Connie to dip his fingers inside. applying the saliva onto his cock before sliding hisself in.

Both you and Connie moaned from the feeling of the warmth and gummy walls that enclosed around his dick while you felt completely full by his dick being inside you.

he gave you a minute to adjust to his size before going completely mad.

having you screaming his name out in the studio, you were so happy it was just you and him today.

His hand slide to the underside of your thighs bringing them to his shoulders and leaving them there.

he continued to roughly pound into you, his eyes caught the print of his tip hitting your stomach.

he chuckled which caught your attention, “look baby.” he says, your head picked up to see what he was talking about.

you gasped seeing the outline of his dick, protruding against your stomach. “Damn,” he says through a throaty chuckle, “fuck, wanna touch it?” he questioned you nod your head making connie grasp your wrist, taking it to the bulge.

both hands pressing down on the bulge which caused you to moan, connie’s eyes widened from how your walls tightly wrapped around his cock. “s-shit baby.” he says.

he picked back up his past and began working his way to his climax, sweat beans showing on his forehead, his strokes getting more sloppier each time he went back in. your hands wrapped around his neck, reaching your high cumming all over his dick as he went harder. coating your insides with his semen.

“fu-fuck..” he mumbled, by your ear. now resting on top of you, both out of breath. connie having the energy to lift his head up using his arms as support to hold his body.

“now all i need is a beat,” you glared at him, “get your corny ass off me.” he chuckled before landing a kiss on your cheek.

“i love you,” “i love you too.”

[tiredofthehumanlife]

Honey, our boyfriend drowned!

Barbie dolls: jegulus x gn!reader

Word:5.1k

Summary: lemme set the scene: Regulus' car crashes into the lake on his drive to work most definitely killing him and then some mystique happens and I get too lazy to write actual plot but I add some sad and cute and JUST FUCKING READ IT ITS FUN AND NICE

Warnings: regulus dies (or does he mwhahaahha), lots.of talk of grief and death and blood and nasty and self hatred you and James are going through it, regulus with a cane and long hair, talks of the war but it's the tiniest mention, Barty has attachment issues, there is some cringe bc believe it or not Im cringey as a person so it just happens, regulus speaks Google translate French, James speaks Google translate Hindi, I had so much fun writing this.one and that's so stupid bc Its literally about death but it was a hoot, brotherly love, peter included SUCK MY DiCK OH MY GOD, oh James takes a picture OH and there's a cordless phone but I was personally thinking of the big clunky ones that sat on the wall you know, insinuations of the cave, Sirius says Jesus Christ in shock you say Gods no in shock yodabba dabba, everyone are friends I watched MLP okay everyone loves each other now, take a shot everytime I say warm, you cry, I quit

While you and James were in school, you started dating a boy named Regulus. He was beautiful and graceful. Your relationship continued outside the bounds of the school walls. Once you and James graduated you got a home and Regulus joined you both a year later when he graduated. Domestic life was wonderful for the three of you. And then Regulus died. 

It was hard to believe. How could your boyfriend disappear right out from under both of your noses? He left for work one day and didn’t come back. It was like the world paused after that. The walls wept with you both. The house seemed smaller and tighter because everywhere you looked were remnants of him. His books were on the shelf with his writing inside. His additions to the grocery list were still on the fridge. His fancy shoes for events sitting by the door. His winter coat is on the rack. You could still smell his cologne. Maybe that was because James would spray it on Regulus' pillow and clutch it to his chest while he slept. Your day together as a couple consisted of sitting on the couch in silence and staring ahead listening to the clock tick. 

His death put a strain on your relationship. You could barely take care of yourselves. How could you love another person when you could barely work up enough energy to cry? So you both floated around the house silently like you were the ones dead. You didn’t talk to James for weeks. 

Everyone around you seemed to take a hit from Regulus’ death. Evans and Barty became reclusive, you hadn’t heard from them in months.

Dorcas started bouncing around her friends’ homes, staying the night on a new person’s couch because she was scared to leave anyone alone. They’d slip from her grasp like Regulus did if she didn’t stay with them.

After a few weeks, Mary and Lily took on the role of caretaker. Bringing people dinners and shoving them into the shower so they’d bathe every once in and while.

Marlene tried to crack jokes with people, she was most definitely the kind of person to joke until her pain went away.

Pandora spent all her days sitting in a rocking chair in front of the window. You checked on her once and asked her how she was. She told you, without looking away from the window, ‘I had a premonition about this four years ago. It’s scarier in real life. I can’t just crawl into his bed and press my fingers to his pulse. I’m living in a nightmare.’ You sighed and patted her shoulder, leaving her with the wisest words you could muster: ‘Me too, Panda. Me too.’ 

Peter is in the nearest Library every day, reading all of Regulus’ favorites. He even came over a few times to borrow some of Regulus’ personal books.

Remus found a French cookbook and started making his way through it one recipe at a time as a way to get up and do something. He said he thought of Regulus with each dish and it made the pain recede like an ocean wave. 

Sirius took it the hardest, for obvious reasons. He laid on his couch all day, staring at the bookshelf next to the TV. Remus said he couldn’t convince Sirius to move to the bed. He’d only to get up to use the bathroom. Remus would have to sit next to the couch on the floor and feed him so he didn’t wither away. Remus eventually realized Sirius was staring at the picture of him and Regulus sitting on the shelf. After a long time, Sirius finally moved from the couch, instead taking his tears to his bed. You didn’t see Sirius for weeks. 

When Regulus’ funeral arrived it was obvious the impact he left. All 12 of you stared at the empty coffin as it settled into the ground. You didn’t even get the peace of knowing his body was resting in the coffin. They never found it. They found his car in the lake with a massive hole the size of his fancy car on the side of the bridge overhead. The police said his body probably drifted down the attached river into the woods. It was likely his body was scavenged by animals. It did nothing to settle your mind. 

Your lover drowned and then was torn apart by wild animals? Great, glad he’s resting peacefully. All of his things were in the car too. The book he was trying to finish during the month of the crash. His bag with his wallet and every other personal item you could think of. He even still had Pandora’s hair clip on the strap. His blood was on the seat and front windshield. Cops said it was impossible for him to have survived, especially with the amount of blood that was lost. He left for work, taking the route he always did, and died in the process. 

It took a long time but you all eventually healed from it. Of course, it still hurt when you were reminded of it but you slowly got back to your average life.

Sirius got off the couch. Dorcas slept in her own bed. Marlene finally cried. Lily and Mary started making food only for themselves. Remus put his cookbook on the shelf, next to the picture. Peter moved out of the libraries, finding new books. Barty and Evan even joined you and James on a double date once. Pandora moved away from the window. You and James stopped being zombies dancing around each other. You finally talked it through and cradled the other through the night, Regulus' pillow was shoved into the closet. 

You asked your friends for help to pack all of Regulus’ things into boxes. It was terribly hard to move on when his presence was still staring you in the eye. You told Sirius he could stay home but he still showed up. He helped you pack up Regulus’ clothes, taking back the band shirts Regulus stole from him. He even used one as a tissue when he cried about it.

With too many people in your house, you were all able to stuff Regulus into three separate boxes. Remus helped James move them into the attic. even though you wanted him hidden away in boxes didn’t mean you wanted to sell his presence away. You hugged everyone goodbye. It was a sour goodbye, the memory of Regulus’ loss fresh on their minds but happy they got to see all their friends again. 

You, along with all the others, had your good and bad days. You’d say an inside joke Regulus came up with and spend the rest of the day crying next to the window. Some days you’d blossom and be like you were years ago. As time went by your bad days became more and more far apart. You and James’ relationship was going strong, you felt like you were in school again. In a positive way. 

After a long brunch with Remus and Sirius full of laughs, you and James went home and relaxed. James left to go take a nap and you started reading by the window facing out towards the road that led to your doorstep. After you got through four chapters, James was rising from his nap and kissing you good morning. Though it was really more of a late afternoon, you didn’t correct him. He left to go make himself a snack, still in his pajamas. You continued reading.

As you heard the timer go off for James’ food you glanced up to see if he was getting it. You saw him through the opening, reaching over for the pot on the oven. You moved to look back at your book, pausing when you saw someone on the sidewalk. You were an avid enjoyer of people-watching. 

It was a man who left your boots feeling shaken. His hair was longer, reaching down to kiss his back between his shoulder blades. He walked with a limp. He was classily dressed. At the top of his cane was a bird skull. He was dressed in all black and had various silver jewelry hanging from his body. His hair was falling into his face as he stared at the ground. You glanced down at the ground to see his shoes, finding they were just as fancy and put together as he was. You looked back up at his hair, trying to see if you could figure out how he maintained it so perfectly.

As you dragged your eyes up, he shook his head back. His hair flew back revealing his scarred face. There was a scar parting his eyebrow and making a trail across his cheek to his ear. You saw one peeking out from the bottom of his jaw and dipping under his high-collared shirt. 

Even with all the changes you recognized him. You sprung out of your chair, flinging your book back towards the coffee table. You heard it clatter to the floor. 

“James! Call Sirius!” You yelled as you scattered towards the front door, knocking over items on your way. 

“What? Why?” James asked from the kitchen opening. You spun your head back towards him. You probably looked like a frazzled crazy person. You felt like a frazzled crazy person. You were either hallucinating or really watching your dead lover walk down the street. 

“Call Sirius, James.” You said, your tone nipping at his hand and making him turn around for the phone hanging in the kitchen. You flung open the front door, ignoring your shoes and the fact the door smacked against the wall.

You weren’t entirely sure Regulus, or at least what you thought was Regulus, wouldn’t run away if he saw you coming. You ran down the concrete steps and your driveway. You ignored the fire the rough ground started on the bottoms of your feet. James stood on front doorstep with the phone pressed to his ear. You caught snippets of his words as you moved to the end of the driveway, staring down the sidewalk. 

“I don’t know.” Your chest heaved as your mind caught up with what you were looking at. “Just said to call you.” You stared at the man in black walking down the center of the sidewalk. “Bein’ weird.” You saw the man stop his walking as you stood in his way. 

“Regulus?” You yelled. The man stood still. You took a step towards him. James had settled silent. “Regulus? Baby, is that you?” You yelled down the sidewalk. He was standing on the sidewalk in front of your neighbor's house, still staring at the ground. Hr pulled his head up, facing you. Even from a far distance, you could recognize him.

Your body started running before your brain could even tell you to. Regulus picked up his pace, a nice brisk walk. You doubted he could go much faster with his apparent hurt leg but you didn’t care. Your undead lover was on your sidewalk. You picked up your pace, letting your lungs burn. Your heart was burning more, the pain from knowing you’d never see Regulus mixing with the hope that he was really walking down your sidewalk. 

“Holy shit.” You heard James say from the first doorstep. “Listen uh, Sirius, I’m going to have to call you back. I think we might be hallucinating right now.” James said. You heard the quiet clatter of the phone on the table next to the front door. You and Regulus stopped with barely two feet between you too. Your chest heaved. You thought your ribs might explode.

Regulus was beautiful even with the scars and obvious dark experiences lingering behind his eyes. You couldn’t imagine what happened in the past year and a half but he was still Regulus after all this time. You felt like you shouldn’t cry because he might feel guilty and leave again. You closed the gap between you two, wrapping your arms around him. Regulus sighed with his chin pulled over your shoulder. You heard his cane drop to the sidewalk, his weight leaning into yours. 

You gripped the onto the back of his shirt, crying into his shoulder. Regulus held onto you just as hard. You felt James’ arms join yours, holding onto Regulus. After a few moments of Regulus finally feeling at home and you and James realizing you did all that crying for nothing, you all pulled back. Regulus wobbled a second, before leaning on his other side. James quickly dipped down and held Regulus’ cane out to him. Regulus thanked him, leaning his weight back on the cane. 

“You’re alive.” You said, sticking your hands your hands out at Regulus. He gave you a one-shouldered shrug. 

“There’s a lot I need to tell you,” Regulus muttered, glancing down at the cane. You shook your head, reaching out for him again. You let your hands cup his face. 

“Oh let me look at you.” You traced the scars on his face. You tugged lightly on the ends of his hair. You let your hands dip down, tracing over the necklaces. You looked down at the metal skull buckle on his belt, grinning at his fancy shoes again. Even after all the changes, he was still in his stupid shoes. 

“You’re so beautiful, my love. I can’t believe you’re alive.” You said, cupping his face again. Regulus hummed and tilted his face into your hand. You pulled back and let James pull Regulus into his arms. James cradled Regulus’ head to his chest just as he used to when Regulus got bad nightmares. Regulus let out a gasping sob, digging his nails into James’ forearm. James closed his eyes and pressed his nose to Regulus’ hair. 

  A few minutes later Regulus was sat at the table with his favorite tea hugged between his hands. You watched him from across the table, tracking his every move. It was weird looking at him. Aside from the fact you thought he was dead, it was a stark change.

You got to watch James slowly change parts of himself over the year. The wrinkles near his eyes got more prominent, he cut his hair, and he got new shoes, etcetera. You went from seeing Regulus with hair shorter than his chin to watching him flick it over his shoulder. You saw him with the clear and pristine skin he took pride in the scarred look he was sporting now. Regulus pursed his lips and blew on the hot tea in his hands before flicking his eyes up to you. You didn’t shy away from the fact you were staring at him. James wandered into the dining room his phone pressed to his ear. 

“No Sirius, I’m being ser-I’m being for real. You need to get over here now, you’re not going to believe this.” James said, leaning on the doorframe and staring at Regulus. Regulus stuck his hand out at James, wiggling his fingers. James raised an eyebrow ‘You sure?’. Regulus shook his hand, ‘yes.’. James handed the phone to Regulus. Regulus pressed the phone to his ear. He cleared his throat. 

“That coffin was uncomfortable, dickhead.” Regulus said before pulling the phone away from his ear and hanging it up. He set it on the table and took a slow sip from his tea. 

“I think you just gave him a heart attack,” James said. You hummed, staring down at the phone. 

“Yeah I’m not sure if that was the best action but it was a very Regulus thing for you to do so at least some things haven’t changed. “ You said, handing the phone off to James. Regulus closed his eyes as he pulled his tea away from his lips. 

Minutes later Sirius was bursting through your door with Remus tailing fast behind him. Sirius peered into each room, making haste to search the house. Regulus set his tea down. Sirius stood in the dining room doorway, frozen in place. Regulus stood from his chair, leaning on his cane and sighing as he did so. He tilted his head to the side, making a small spin to show off his new look. 

“Jesus Christ,” Sirius muttered. 

“that’s who he looks like, I was trying to place it,”  you said, sighing and smacking James’ bicep. Regulus faces Sirius again, holding his arm out. Sirius closed the space, pulling Regulus into a hug. They rocked side to side. You thought of shooing everyone out but you also wanted to watch Sirius’ reaction. Sirius pulled back and smacked Regulus on the crown of his head. Regulus glared at him, obviously, it wasn’t hard. 

“Don’t you ever do that again you dick,” Sirius said, before cupping Regulus’ face. He grimaced and shook his head. 

“You look like me in fourth year,” Sirius whispered, running his hand through the length of Regulus’ hair. Regulus hummed. 

“I thought so too. I missed home, so I grew it out. I plan on trimming it soon though, not really me.” Regulus whispered. Sirius hummed and traced the scar down Regulus’ eyebrow with his thumb. 

“What’d you do?” Sirius asked. 

“I ended a war before it started, the usual break year plans. I almost drowned and fought off some weird gremlin things. It’s a story.” Regulus said, waving off Sirius’ look of concern. “I’m fine now, other than the trauma I hold with water. But I managed to figure it out. I just take showers weird now.” Regulus added, once again downplaying the severity. 

“Well, your funeral was a waste of time,” Sirius said, turning back around to stand next to Remus. Regulus shrugged. 

“Did you guys cry?” You, James, Remus, and Sirius shared looks. You all shrugged. 

“Eh, not really.” 

“I mean what even classifies as crying these days, you know.” 

"So much I got dehydrated"

“After the first couple of days, it was a breeze.” Regulus rolled his eyes and pulled his tea off the table. 

“So did you guys sell all my shit?” He whispered into his cup. You and James quickly shook your heads. 

“Oh gods, no. It’s all in the attic.” You said, pointing at the ceiling above you. James and Remus left for the attic as you and Sirius chased after Regulus. Regulus took his tea from the dining room to the living room, setting it on the coffee table. You and Sirius stared at him as he settled onto the couch. Regulus propped his cane against the side table, taking a sip from his tea. Regulus lifted an eyebrow at the floor. He leaned over and held your book up. 

“Thought I taught you better than to throw books,” Regulus said, setting the book on the coffee table. You crossed your arms over your chest. You scoffed. 

“I was a little more focused on my undead lover walking into my garden.” You said. Regulus shrugged and gently set the book down on the coffee table. Regulus kicked his foot up, resting his ankle on his knee. James and Remus joined you with all three boxes. They were all labeled with a different form of his name, three different handwritings. Evan wrote R.A.B. in his swirly handwriting. Sirius had written Regulus in his pristine handwriting. You scribbled down Reggie on the top with an almost empty Sharpie. It looked like you didn’t care but you couldn’t bear to look at the boxes any more than you had to. 

Regulus leaned forward, tearing open the nearest box. He started rummaging through it and you wished Evan was here. You couldn’t fold things as perfectly as he could. Regulus pulled out his favorite stuffed animal, setting it on the couch next to him. He closed the box, reaching for the next one. He tore it open just as fast. He pulled out his favorite blanket and book. Regulus threw the blanket next to his stuffed animal. He set the book on the coffee table and as you watched him close up the box again, you sucked in a shaky breath. Regulus lifted his head, looking at you. You turned into James’ arms. James tightened his hold. You hated to get James’ shirt dirty but watching Regulue tear through the boxes you were sure you’d never touch again made your throat close up. 

“Sorry did I do something?” You heard Rehgulus’ voice behind you. James’ hand ran up and down your back. You felt SIrius’ hand land on your shoulder. 

“No, we’re just processing, I think. Lots of changes today.” James said, rocking you back and forth. Sirius took on the role of changing the subject so you still had a little bit of dignity. 

“We need to call the others. I mean this is a big change we’ll have to get every-“ Regulus cut off Sirius. 

“Listen, I know okay. I know, but I haven’t felt at home in over a year. I just want to spend today here. Tomorrow I will tell everyone of my resurrection but right now I just want a nap. You and Remus can stay if you want, I really don’t care. As long as I get a nap on the couch, I’m okay. I will gather everyone tomorrow but today is just..” Regulus sighed, a visible weight lifting from his shoulders. “Just for me. Is that okay?” Regulus asked. Sirius stayed silent a moment. He glanced around the living room. He shrugged, looking back at Regulus. 

“Yeah, that’s okay.” Regulus slipped his shoes off, setting them next to his cane, and laid across the couch. You pulled back from James, wiping at your eyes. You headed off for the bedroom, tearing open the closet. You pulled down Regulus’ pillow and brought it back to the living room. Regulus gave you a soft smile and gently took the pillow from your hands. He set it down before quickly sandwiching your hands between his. He was warm, not cold like a dead body. Maybe he was real. Regulus stared up at you. 

“I learned how to cook traditional French dishes,” Remus said, picking at one of the boxes. Regulus hummed. He was on the brink of sleep but still wanted Remus to feel heard. “You should come over for dinner some night.” Regulus nodded against his pillow. Remus left after SIrius and not long after you heard SIrius’ motorcycle fade away. You imagined Remus’ long legs cramped behind Sirius on the back of his bike and snorted. 

“I love you, you know that? Every day I wasn’t here I worried for you. I missed you so much I’d feel sick. I’m sorry I left like that.” Regulus said. Your eyebrows pinched and you sank your teeth into your bottom lip, trying your hardest to not cry again. You nodded. Regulus hummed and pressed your palm to his lips. You sighed and rubbed his cheek lightly. He dropped your hands and laid back on the couch, now with his pillow propped behind his head.

Regulus turned onto his side, clutching his stuffed animal to his chest. He pulled his blanket up to his nose. Sirius stood next to Regulus, brushing hair out of his face and gently rubbing his cheek before roughly smacking him and messing up his hair again. Regulus groaned and swatted his hands away. Sirius pulled back and slipped out the front door. 

“Mon Soleil?” Regulus whispered into his blanket. You glanced at James, watching his water line fill. 

“छोटा राजा?”  James whispered, his voice fragile. You looked back to Regulus. His eyes were still closed. 

When James heard Regulus’ snores next to his ear he slid the bookmark into their place and set it on the coffee table. James leaned his head back, resting it on the couch armrest. You sighed, watching Regulus sleep peacefully. 

“Read to me?” Regulus asked. James nodded and grabbed the book Regulus pulled from the box off the coffee table. James sat on the floor next to where Regulus head was on the couch. He opened the book to the page they left off last time, and you felt like James might cry. He started reading and as he went on you started to wish Regulus had given you a task too. You were just standing there watching them. You quietly joined James on the floor. You sat a foot and a half away from James. He paused his sentence for a second to look up at you and give you a soft smile. You returned it and slipped a hand under Regulus’ blanket. It probably smelled like the attic but Regulus didn’t seem to care, snoozing away. You rested your hand on his hip, lightly rubbing it before getting your hand to sit. You wished to hold his hand but one was clutching his stuffed animal and the other was pressing his blanket to his face. 

“I don’t think we’ll be getting much sleep tonight.” You whispered, not wanting to wake up Regulus. James turned his head to face you. He reached over and held onto your other hand, kissing the back. He nodded and looked over towards the wall. 

“I feel like we shouldn’t go to sleep because when we wake up, the boxes will be back in the attic. Sirius will be back on the couch and we’ll be sitting on the bed sobbing together.”James whispered. You humed. You slipped your thumb under the edge of Regulus’ shirt, pressing your finger into his warm skin. 

“He won’t be warm anymore.” You muttered, eyes still caught on Regulus. James’ thumb rubbed against the back of your hand. You wondered if he was testing to see if you were warm still. 

“We’ll visit his grave on Wednesday together and wonder if those wild animals were well fed. If it was all worth it. Stare down at the dirt and know six feet under is an empty wooden box with nothing but a copy of Regulus’ favorite poetry book inside.” James’ voice wobbled and you gripped his hand tighter. 

“I thought every day that I would wake up and it’d all be a nightmare. I was just dreaming. All those crime shows got to me and my brain inserted me into an episode while I was sleeping. Every morning I’d wake up to find out we were still planning his funeral. I thought I was dead for a while. Thought this was my punishment for not recycling enough or something.” You said, pressing your thumb further into Regulus’ skin. Not to hurt him, but you needed to feel his pulse. 

“I can’t go back there,” James whispered. 

“Then maybe we go to sleep tonight. Maybe we’ll wake up and he’ll be in bed with us.” You said giving the side of James' face a sour smile. 

“Then we start again. We heal again.” James gave you a sad look and stared ahead again. You decided to lighten the mood a little. “And we had a freaky joint dream.” James snorted. He sniffed and stared down at his lap. He kissed the back of your hand again. You focused on Regulus’ skin under your finger. Still warm. 

“And if we wake up to find ourselves right back where we started? What then?” James asked, turning his head to face you. You paused for a moment and let his words stir in your head. You thought about getting thrown right back into that dark and messy place.

You didn’t take showers unless Mary forced you and you hated yourself for everything you did. Why didn’t you stop Regulus and tell him to stay home that day? Why didn’t you drive him to work yourself? Why didn’t you deviate from your routine, anything to save Regulus’ life? And when you got over what ifs that could’ve stopped this all from happening, then you hated yourself for not helping James more. Why couldn’t you take care of him? His parents called every day and he could barely pull himself out of bed to answer the phone. You couldn’t look away from the floor to pick the phone up. You picked apart yourself with sharp nails and then let your pieces rot into something awful that barely resembled yourself anymore. All in the name of grief. 

“So sorry to break up such a sweet moment, however I am trying to sleep. So if you two could shut up: that’d be preferable. “ You heard Regulus say. James turned his head back, glancing at Regulus. He looked back at you. 

“Seems pretty real to me.” You whispered. 

Regulus stayed true to his word, calling every one of your friends to your home. When he joined them in the living room there were screams and cries and most definitely noise complaints from the neighbors. Barty fell to his knees, taking Regulus down with him, and sobbed into his hair. He was an ugly crier too, saliva connecting his two lips when he opened his mouth in a silent cry.

Dorcas and Evan were quick to join them on the floor, wrapping Regulus up in a sea of arms. Probably the first body of water he felt comfortable in a while.

Eventually, Regulus made it to his feet, giving everyone their own hug. Peter told him he had books he found that Regulus would enjoy. Mary smacked him on the back of the head and told him to brighten the fuck up before dragging him into a tight hug. Lily told him she had a new bread recipe she’d been meaning to try. Marlene cracked a stupid joke through her tears and lightly punched Regulus in the arm. Regulus made it to Pandora and she pulled him to her chest, squeezing him as tight as she could. 

“I didn’t see this.” She whispered in his hair. Regulus gripped her back just as tight.

You all had a warm dinner made by Remus and Lily. Regulus and Sirius share a nostalgic look after the first bite. You didn’t have a big enough table so you all crowded into the living room, gathering around the rug. Regulus earned a spot on the couch. Barty was at his feet, arms wrapped around Regulus’ leg.

James shot up halfway through dinner, dashing across the house. He came back with his camera. He took one shot of everyone in the living room before turning the camera around and squeezing himself into frame too. He labeled them both ‘Regulus’ first family dinner back’ on the backs. He added the date and set the camera and photos on the kitchen counter deciding to deal with them later.

On his way back into the living room, he kissed you before pecking Regulus on the cheek. As he settled back into his seat on the floor, the group broke into ruckus laughter from a joke Sirius made. Sirius beamed and your and James’ eyes shot for Regulus. You found him snorting out his tea through his nose. His pain, disgust, and laughter all conjoined and you knew when you woke up tomorrow, he’d once again be in your bed. Warm. 

[kiwanopie]

Gift Wrapped 💌

Yuuta Okkotsu x Reader

cw: smut. porn with a little plot. oral, fingering (f!receiving) multiple orgasms. praise. overstimulation. breeding. unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it). minor mention of womb fucking. say it with me: college au! minors do not interact.

wc: 4.k

“We need a distraction.”

You furrow at your two friends posted a little beyond the doors to the library. “Huh? Why me?”

Maki exchanges a quick glance with Inumaki who mutters a little under his breath, sighing when he shrugs his shoulders like it’s up to her to explain your importance in this situation.

“Because you’re his favorite,” And the way you tilt your head a little makes her exhale. “Seriously. If it was anyone else he’d see right through it.”

That makes you throw your head back a bit. “I’m his favorite?”

“Salmon.”

“Wha-“ Even so, you frown. Fabric stretching a little in your sundress as you distribute some of your weight on your hip. “But I’m the one who planned the party? I still have an order of decorations to pick up before noon.”

“We’ll pick those up on the way back,” She cuts you off before you can add. “And the cake. We’re obviously not gonna forget that.”

“What about the invitations? You know who’s all coming, right? Will you make sure they know it’s a surprise?”

Maki scoffs. “Again, obviously.”

Rough fingers are already reaching for the soft side of your cheek when you blow out a distrustful sigh. “Hey, don’t start acting like you planned this all yourself! You’re not the one who’s been bending over backwards just to make sure Panda and Sensei keep their mouths shut about this whole thing.”

“Tuna mayo.” Inumaki adds.

You relent with another short breath through your nose as you lightly swat your friend’s hand away. “Okay, okay! What am I supposed to do to distract him then?”

“I don’t know? Do what you usually do.”

“Which is?”

Maki shrugs like she’s not about to say the most insulting thing in the world. “You know, walk in there like a complete ditz, kiss his ass a little. Maybe pop a few of those buttons in your dress,“

“Okay,” You interject. “So this is you asking me for a favor-“

“Just,” Maki exasperatedly points her head forward as she reaches to turn you for the empty study room at the far side of the library. Pushing you across even as you quietly complain against her efforts. “Walk in there and be yourself. Make sure he doesn’t come back to his dorm before we send you the signal.”

“But-“

You’re helpless as they quickly retreat in the direction they came, quietly waving you off as she leaves you there with a final glance over her shoulder. “Good luck! Don’t screw it up!”

You huff.

It takes him a distracted few seconds to respond when you finally knock at his reserved door. Quietly psyching yourself up when Yuuta calls out a busied ‘come in’ before silently making your way inside.

As expected his station is a complete mess of open scrolls and scattered books when you walk in. Papers strewn across the long table leading to the sitting ledge near the windows, and him of course comfied on a small floor seat at the corner of the room; nose deep in a book even as the door clicks behind you.

It takes the small hum you make at the mess to realize it’s you who just walked in.

Yuuta’s unabashed at the way he quickly lifts his head. “____? Hi! What’re you doing here?”

You smile as you carefully step over a few opened notebooks to hook your purse on an empty chair. “Spending time with the birthday boy, I hoped?”

“Oh? Yeah, I’d,” He raises from his seat to (albeit clumsily) approach you. “Love that! Sorry about the mess, I was just getting in a little bit of studying before you came,”

He’s familiar as he opens his arms for you. “C’mere, c’mere.”

His day shirt hisses firmly against the thin cotton of your sundress when you meet him in a snug embrace; mindful of your arms as they sit on his shoulders and his hold tightens. So much that the squeeze nearly compels you to groan like an old squeaky toy, but he lets up when you whine a little.

Yuuta’s hands are still loosely lazed on your lower back when you click your tongue at him. “Studying on not only the weekend but your birthday? It’s like you like being a dweeb.”

“Oh, I love it,” He quips back. “If only to have you to come and bully me every now and then.”

You smile at him as you finally pull yourself away. Turning on your heel at his fond grin to push aside the papers still splayed on the table behind you, and clearing room for yourself to sit as you raise yourself up by your arms.

Yuuta’s eyes follow the way your legs cross before you speak. “Wanna tell me about it? I’m sure we could go over a few things together.”

His eyes light up a little at the suggestion. If not to stall for time then just to see him nerd out on whatever he’s been so focused on all morning. Yuuta’s always been pretty transparent about his eagerness to know everything there is to about jujitsu and cursed techniques, especially when you’re around to soak up all his ramblings with complete earnest. - You’re not as thorough as Yuuta, not by a long shot; but he’s always been helpful with your technique in consideration. If you’re being honest he might be the reason you’re as skilled as you are currently.

He’s attentive. Even more attentive and honest in his enthusiasm as he pulls out a seat for himself in front of you. Positioning himself until he’s just an arms reach in front of your legs and reaching for a book just on the side of you.

“Okay, well uh for starters I’ve been reading up a lot on Death Paintings and their relationship with basic genetics. Like,” He flips a few pages before craning his neck to look up at you. “Cursed spirits are more likely to adapt to the appearance of their vessel per resistance but Death paintings,”

The way you tilt your head has him keeping the extended eye contact, even as his ears turn florid. “Are technically in themselves a vessel, so any changes to the host are arbitrary. It also means that they’re kind of dead but kind of alive? It’s a - I don’t know, a Danny phantom kind of deal.”

“That’s definitely a way to simplify it.” You snicker.

“Say a Death painting uses something like Convergence or Crimson binding, dying from blood loss would be a non-factor ‘cause they’re - well they’re dead. But if you do actually wind up killing one, even without a cursed tool, they’ll be gone forever. No cursed energy left behind or anything.”

You lift your leg somewhat to graze the top of the hard cover with the front of your shoe. “You make it sound easy?”

“Oh, for me it is.”

He chuckles when you playfully kick him, even if he has to ignore his reflexes to let you get the opportunity. Watching your lips dip into a marred pout as the force of your leg swinging at him knocks his book out of his lap and your heel tumbling down with it.

Yuuta’s lackadaisical as he reaches on his side for your fallen shoe, adjusting himself in his chair as he turns it over in his hand. “Speaking of, these have gotta be sharp enough to kill somebody with. I don’t usually see you wear these unless there’s an occasion?”

You lift an eyebrow at him as tepid fingers curl around your ankle. “Can’t I dress up a little for the birthday boy?”

His grin is sweetened by a blush.

He’s careful as he guides your leg in his direction, gentle as he slides the heel onto your pointed foot. Even with calloused fingers does he handle your leg like it’s fine tulle, and you can’t help but want to shudder at the way he appraises you with so much earnesty.

“You look very pretty today,” Yuuta hums before catching himself awkwardly. “I-I mean, you look pretty everyday but today especially.”

“Yeah? Well, thank you, Yuuta-kun.” And your smile’s flustered. Pretty and coy as you turn your head and slide your leg out of his lingering grip.

His eyes are already in place of yours when you turn to him again. “You look nice too by the way? You don’t have anywhere to be any time soon, do you?”

“Oh,” Yuuta tucks his chin in a little to glance down at his button up. “No but, I ran into Panda before I got here and he told me to put on something nice!”

He absently starts the motion of folding his sleeves back. “Whatever that’s about…”

“Yeah…” You chuckle a little airily.

You’ll kill him.

There’s a distant vibrating sound coming from your purse that you reach for as Yuuta dips his hands again to rub them restlessly against his pant legs. Light patters against the carpet floor when he starts to bounce his knee and you split your attention between that and the phone in your hand.

“But uh, I mean,” Yuuta noncommittally throws his hand up in the air. “I can’t imagine that Panda’s planning on taking me out anywhere in public, seeing as - you know,”

You give him a nodding glance as you open your phone.

“Yeah so, maybe after that you and I could… I don’t know, celebrate together?”

Party Planning Committee: jesus what did you order him

Party Planning Committee: cakes been delayed for another hr xoxo

“Aw, fuck you.”

“Huh?”

Oh. Oops. You messily catch yourself when you finally register what he’s just said. And what you just accidentally responded with. Your phone is practically thrown aside as you clumsily readjust yourself in front of him, simpering apologetically when he furrows. “Oh! No, no, not you! I was just-…”

His eyes follow your awkward movements as you lift one of the fallen straps of your dress. “I’d- Yeah, of course! I’d love that, Yuuta. What did you have in mind?”

Yuuta makes a short glance at your phone before continuing somewhat hesitantly. “I was thinking we could drive to Osaka and maybe walk through Shinsaibashi? Maybe even view the Umeda Sky Building while we’re there.”

You gape a little. As fun as that sounds. And it sounds really fun, come to think of it. A trip like that would have to be a day trip. Just the drive there could take a few hours and if he’s really in the mood to sightsee there’s no chance the two of you would be back before the night is over.

He’s talking about getting a hotel with you. The thought makes your face hot. “W-What about Panda? Shouldn’t we stay to at least see what he wants first?”

“Hm? Oh yeah sure,” Though the relieved breath you quietly let out may have been a second too soon. “His dorm’s right next to mine so I’ll stop there before I grab my things.”

“You’ll-? Oh! You don’t… have to do that,”

Yuuta gives you a puzzled look as he reaches on his side to pick up his fallen book from earlier. “Hm? Why not?”

Your hand cranes to follow his movements as he stands up from his chair. Try as you might to not seem as frantic as you are, you reach for his arm when he starts for his things on the other side of the room. “You don’t wanna seem rude? What if he’s-… n-not ready to give it to you yet?”

Yuuta stares at you a short deliberative beat.

You try to hide your nerves as he slowly inches himself closer to you. Practice in his step as he plants himself before your uncrossed legs and cranes his neck until he’s leveled with your height - until his nose is practically skimming over yours. But his eyes are vigilant as they scrub you over, and you can’t help but the fearful pout you give him when he hums shortly.

“‘You hiding something from me?”

“No.”

His pupils dilate. “Feels like you are.”

“M’not.”

“You’re not?”

“Nu-uh.”

His breath is minty and sweet. You smell it about as well as he does your flavored lip gloss, shining in the room light as your pout deepens at the way he tuts. “Lying to the birthday boy’s a pretty serious offense, y’know?”

His lips twitch up when you start to shy away. “…Only punishable by death.”

“Yuuta…” You’re already reaching to push him back when his fingers start to inch for you. “Yuuta, think about this…!”

“What’re you hiding, ____?”

“I’m not hiding any-“

You don’t even get the chance to scurry away before his fingers are pressing determined little buttons into your vulnerable torso. Blunt fingernails forcing out broken little chirps at your poor attempts to stop him from prodding at your ticklish sides, but he overpowers you without even trying. Even as you push away he shoots down your efforts to escape by pushing forward enough to nearly lay himself over you, practically covering you like a veil when your legs spread in the midst of your squirming. He’s relentless as he squeezes himself between your thighs to keep up his assault. Smiling even as tears start to well in your eyes.

Yuuta’s giggling blends in with your body racking laughs as you try fruitlessly to swat at him from where you’re all but trapped beneath him, smiling so bright that it lights up his entire face. “C’mon. Tell me! Tell me!”

“N-no! Yuuta! St- stop!”

“What’s the big secret? I wanna know!”

Your only warning comes in a choked whine when you decide to pull out your only trump card. All but backed into a wall at your last ditch attempt to get him to stop tickling you, as ashamed as you should be for deciding to play dirty.

But you’re not as you cross your bare legs over his back, forcibly pressing him against you as the surprise knocks his stomach into yours.

He’s immediately flustered. You snort at him between breaths as he props himself up on his arms.

“O-Oh,” Yuuta’s cheeks turn rosy at the way you pant underneath him. “Oh, that’s dirty!”

Your wearied smile is enough to make him sweat. “You started it-“

You both turn your heads when your phone vibrates.

Party Planning Committee: sensei said he put up the decorations

Party Planning Committee: how much u wanna bet he went through his stuff

“Wha-“

You kiss him.

Mostly in another last ditch effort to keep the secret under wraps but even so, Yuuta doesn’t even hesitate to return the kiss in full ardency. Already tilting his head to deepen the kiss before you’re wrapping your arms around his shoulders to press him more firmly against you. He’s shameless as he groans into your lips when your fingers start pushing cardful lines into the back of his head.

The way you suck on his bottom lip as he pulls away makes his brain feel syrupy, it’s not even a moment later that he’s dipping his head into the crook of your neck to press his lips where it counts.

“Y-…Yuuta…”

He’s pressing crescents in your thighs when he raises his head to look at you more directly. “Want me to stop?”

You shake your head.

His lips are molten as they press hot tracks down your neck and shoulders, scalding down the path it takes to your covered breasts. You’re not sure of its eagerness or how wholly receptive he is to each twitch and whimper you make - but whichever it is it’s driving you nuts. He’s touching you everywhere. Savoring each dip and soft spot he comes across with his curious fingers, up the thin fabric riding over your thighs, your calves as they skirt up and down his sides. Even your hands find themselves in his again, entwined with his fingers as he unlatches your grip on his hair and brings it to his lips.

Yuuta’s eyes are locked on yours through the soft kiss he presses on your wrist. “You’re soft all over. I’m not even surprised,”

Deep marble blues are suffocated by dilated blacks, hungrier as he scrubs down the tousled state of your dress. All pretty and perfect underneath him.

He skims the hand on your knee down to the fat of your inner thigh. “‘You wanna be my birthday gift?”

In favor of outright whining when he asks, you fervently nod your head.

Yuuta’s thorough in the path he takes from your sternum to your open legs. Attentive in the stops he takes to suck in scattered bruises. The draft in the room cools over the dip in your dress, tugged over the cooling spit drying over your nipples. By the time he’s started peppering his lips down your thighs, you’re already teetering over overstimulated. But he isn’t in a hurry when you start to whine, still drawing patterns over your exposed stomach to press a savory kiss over the fabric of your panties.

“Don’t tell me you came in here this wet?” The vibration of his voice inclines you to twitch. “‘You’ve been holding out on me this whole time?”

“Y-Yuu-“

His tongue is as thorough as he is.

As eager. With barely the wherewithal to tug your panties down one of your legs before nuzzling his nose back into your clit again. Shamelessly eating you out like he’s been dying to much longer than he can even remember. You’re as sweet as he’s imagined, sugary as honeydew. Cassonade coated whimpers clip into the air as he moans into you, even bolder at the way he reaches up to roughly grope at one of your breasts to put you in a different angle, and the stretch of him pushing a finger inside has you both groaning.

He could just be doing this all day and he’d be happy. Feel you shiver under him like you do in his daydreams and call out for him so prettily. “Yuuta…! Yuuta! Please, I’m..,”

You nearly cum when he spits on your already messy pussy. “G’nna cum?” Yuuta grunts as his tongue joins his fingers, eyes rolling back at the squeeze and contemplating on if this is enough for such a tight fit.

So he gathers his spit and pushes it inside for good measure.

“Ah… Yuu..” Your eyes cross as his tongue flattens on your clit again, fingers rocking you in a sticky rhythm. “I’m… gonna make a mess..!”

“Yeah? My pretty gift ‘s gonna mess for me? Give me a treat for treating her pussy so well?” His tongue sloshes against your clit as your back arches. “Go ‘head, baby. Don't hold back.”

“O-Oh, fuck!”

Your moans reverberate through the walls of the enclosed study room when you cum, nearly full out sobbing as you hump against his face and coat him in your slick as you do. But he doesn’t stop, focused on working you through and catching as much as he can in his mouth, hips grinding into the edge of the table as he fights the urge to cum in his pants.

You’re overstimulated when Yuuta finally pulls away with a lewd slurp, still rocking you into his fingers. “Good job,”

The way he parts you with his wet fingers is as embarrassing as it is toe curling. “Your clit’s gotten all cute and swollen…”

Yuuta finally stands to his full height to appraise you fully as his wet fingers dip into his mouth, slick stained on his white collar and cheeks fully flushed with lust. His gaze still sweetens though, as it usually does when he’s got his attentions set on his favorite girl. Splayed out for him like a painting as the residual taste of your cum sweetens over his tongue and there are all but hearts floating over his head.

“Wanna keep going at it?” He starts on the belt of his pants. “Promise I’ll fuck you real good if you let me.”

You can hardly make the effort to give him a verbal response, almost certain that whatever you’re gonna say is more likely to come out either slurred or incoherent. So in place of a response you reach for him, grazing your nose against his as you pull him against you; and his smile is elated as he pulls himself out of his pants.

You both gasp when the mushroom top pops in, clenching his teeth through your airy whines as he starts to push himself in and Yuuta seriously questions if he’s gonna last long with you feeling as good as you do.

There’s not enough room in you for him to still be pushing in like he is. “Yuuta, ‘s’too much…!”

“Fuck!” He grunts. “Fuck you’re so tight.”

You can barely think when he starts his pace.

He’s relentless as he thrusts into you, rough and firm as he presses his hands into the back of your thighs and pushes them up to your chest, momentarily slowing down to pull out just to the underside of his tip and roll back in with a dirty push of his hips. You’re feeling him in your stomach by now, pressed against your womb when he leans in and starts to put some of his weight on you - and you honestly don't know how you’ll look at Yuuta the same way anymore. With one of your kindest - gentlest friends being in your guts like he is, still staring at you so adoringly as he carves himself into you and tutting when your head lulls to the side.

His fingers are rough and capable as he hooks them into your jaw, keeping your gaze locked on him as his pace becomes deeper.

“So good… you feel so good, baby.. My perfect, perfect girl.” He babbles. “F-fuck..! Take it. Take it just like that - wanna fuck you so full, huh? You want that?”

“S’good! S’so good, Yuu..! Hah…ahh fuck!”

“Aw,” He laughs breathlessly, puffs of air coming out as broken moans as he lays his head into the crook of your neck and puts his weight on you completely.

Yuuta clasps one of your hands in his as he transitions into deeper strokes, reaching to rub circles into your clit with the other hand.

“My ____’s gotten all stupid already. Too focused on getting fucked to think for herself anymore.” He coos as he kisses the tears running down your cheeks.

“S’okay baby. I can do all the thinking.” His moan breaks off into a shuttered breath. “Jus…keep milking me like that. Ohh my god… s-so… fucking good. Mh..”

Your eyes roll back as you tense. “Yuuta! Yuuta…!”

“Go ‘head…hahh…” He’s really gotta hold himself back at this point. “Soak my cock with your cum, baby. Go on.”

You’re half crying when you cum for the second time, squeezing around Yuuta with such a vigor that his hips pull back with a notable resistance and he almost blacks out. Fucking into you as deep as he can as he finally starts to loose his composure.

“Fffuck! Fuck! Oh god…! So good f’me, baby! So good - m’cumming. M’cumming…!” He says as hot ropes of it start to gum up your insides. “F-..fuck you’re still…milking me.”

You whimper as his hips start to grind deep currents into yours, still slowly rocking you as he whines into your neck and keeps his pace on your clit.

“Ahh…Yuu…You’re..” Your breath hitches. “Fuck Yuuta, you’re gonna make me…cum again…!”

But he doesn’t budge when you weakly start to push at him, still quietly panting into your ear. “One more. Jus…one more, baby…”

“Yuu…Yuu…!” You clutch onto his shoulders as when you start to lock up again. “Oh god…ah..fuck!”

“There she is..” And he’s already running your insides hot again as he cums from the overstimulation. “Good girl…So…ahh…proud of you, baby.”

There’s a shared exhale as you both go limp.

Buzzt!

Party Planning Committee: ok ready when you are!

reblog for an early birthday gift 🎁

[bullet-prooflove]

"And I’ll dream each night of some version of you That I might not have, but I did not lose" with Stuart Scola, pretty please??

Tagging: @trublu2u @burningpeachpuppy @district447 @stelacole @kmc1989

Little Changes - Stuart notices when you start to make little changes.

The Last Time - You and Stuart face a problem regarding your wish to start a family.

Fresh - You decide you need to start fresh.

Seduction (NSFW) - You decide to seduce Stuart.

Stuart still dreams about you being a mom. He thinks about it everytime you’re in the vicinity of a child, picking up a fallen toy or stopping one from running out into the road. You’d be the fun parent, the creative one.

For you that dream has died, you’ve buried it, grieved for it…

“I’ve accepted it,” You tell him your first day returning to the field in two years.  “There’s no point in keeping my life on hold for something that’s never going to happen.”

The whole thing wrenches at his chest because he knows that having a family is still within your reach, that you still have options but you won’t even consider them.

“Surrogates change their minds, adoptions fall through.” You tell him when he tries to discuss it with you one morning over breakfast. “I can’t face that level of uncertainty.”

He can tell the conversation is over because you get up and head upstairs to take a shower.

The thing is, you may have moved on but Stuart hasn’t. He hasn’t told you that he still keeps a tiny stuffed panda in the top drawer of his desk at work, he bought it the first time you took a pregnancy test because he was so sure it would take. He takes it out when he’s alone sometimes, runs his fingers through it’s fur.

That’s what he’s doing when Jubal escorts the social worker to his desk, the one that’s apparently been trying to track him down over the last few days.

“I don’t understand, I’m not working any cases with kids.” He says as he tucks the panda back in the drawer and closes it.

“This is more of a private matter.” She tells him.

It’s in the conference room he learns he has son. A  three year old called Jack.

Back when you broke off the engagement to go undercover Stuart fell into old habits, drinking, fucking. One of the people he did that with was Nina Chase…

Nina Chase who had recently been killed in action during a raid on fentanyl lab.

Nina Chase who he had apparently gotten pregnant after a one night stand and had neglected to mention that the last time they ran into each other on case.

“Are you sure?” He asks the social worker because right now his head feels like it’s going to explode and he has no idea how the hell he’s supposed to feel.

“You’re listed on the birth certificate and in her will.” The social worker confirms as she removes the documentation from her satchel and pushes it across the desk towards him. He flicks through it, studying the details intently. It’s when he sees a picture of Jack that something just clicks, the kid has his eyes, the exact same shade of blue.

It’s the letter that comes with the will that confirms what he’d already guessed. The two of them had hooked up a month before you walked back into his life. By the time she found out she was pregnant you were back together, engaged again. She hadn’t wanted to fuck that up.

He’s waiting for you in the kitchen when you get home, a glass of whiskey in his hand and the documentation in front of him.  

“I know that face.” You say as you set your bag down on the kitchen counter. “That’s the ‘you’ve done something I’m not going to be happy with’ face.”

You come to stand in front of him, your hands resting on your hips and his heart pounds in his chest because this, this is going to upend your entire world and truthfully he doesn’t know where you’re going to land.

What he does know is, he’s going to raise his child, with you or without you.

“Sasha.” He says softly as he pushes the file towards you. “We need to talk.”

Stuart? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[x-heesy]

SPaze iz a plaze ✨

Spastik (Dubfire Rework) by Plastikman, Richie Hawtin @luna-zylum @boanerges20

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | one

🐴Chapter summary: You arrive back at the ranch, a place you used to call home as a child. But it doesn’t hold the same meaning anymore. With the passing of your mother, you stand to inherit part of that very ranch– and you don’t want it. Only problem, your sister doesn’t want to give you her signature for you to sell your share. 🐴Chapter title: Inheritance 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: mention of past character death of parents, exhibitionism, explicit smut in the form of protected sex, quick and dirty sex, doing it against a barn, creampie, nipple play, clit play. Doing it in public / outside. Mention of past infidelity (of parents). Spoiler ahead!!! Jungkook and Jimin are (half) brothers and reader sleeping with JK is necessary to happen for the sake of the plot 🥲 It sucked to write that part, and if you feel like the smut if ‘eh’ it’s because it was written that way because reader isn’t meant to be with JK! So, please, don’t let that discourage you from reading it, the rest of the story is really good and MC realizes she’s made a mistake… anyway the smut with Jimin when it eventually happen, is just 🥵🥵🥵 🐴Status: completed 🥳 🐴Word count: 8.2k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog @kiki-zb @babejinnie @ownthesunshine @allie-is-a-panda @glllhjh @bergandysam @13-manggaetteok

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “Theme from McLeod’s Daughters” by Rebecca Lavelle. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: this story has been in my head forever, and I’ve spent months outlining it and planning it– so I’m so stoked to finally post it! 🥳 I love both McLeod’s Daughters and BTS, so why not combine it?? I am not sure anybody will read this story, but if you do, thank you! It truly means the world to me. 

I also want to give a very big thank you and shout out to my dear friend, Lua, for reading it while I worked on it, hyping me up and giving me such fucking wonderful feedback 😭✨ Thank you so much @letjungcoook7 💖🥹

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

| s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

“I said, I wanna touch the earth I wanna break it in my hands I wanna grow something wild and unruly I wanna sleep on the hard ground In the comfort of your arms On a pillow of bluebonnets In a blanket made of stars Oh, it sounds good to me I said, cowboy take me away Fly this girl as high as you can into the wild blue Set me free, oh, I pray” - “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks

The tires of your car dig into the unforgiving dirt road with a tenacious grip as you navigate the rugged terrain. A symphony of sand and dust dances before the windshield, yet your focus remains unyielding. The landscape is open and inviting, yet there’s tall mountains in the distance framing the idyllic nature. 

The pulsating beat of the music reverberates through the vehicle, echoing the determination coursing through your veins. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, your resolve unshakable. 

Amidst the chaotic whirlwind outside, you're on a singular quest: to get your sister’s signature to sell your share of the ranch.

You yearn to sever all ties with the place. 

It's not a matter of hatred, per se, but rather an aversion steeped in memories you'd rather forget. 

The grounds echo with a tapestry of recollections, most of which cling like shadows to the recesses of your mind—a gallery of moments you're desperate to erase from the canvas of your past.

The passing of your mother, a woman absent from your life for over two decades, casts a melancholic hue over this reunion, that leaves much to be desired.

Separated by the passage of years, your sister remains a distant specter on the horizon of your past. A chapter of familial connection was abruptly closed when your father took you away from the ranch during your formative years, the sprawling fields replaced by the relentless rhythm of the city. 

The city, with its towering structures and ceaseless energy, has woven itself into the fabric of your existence. Amidst the hustle, the stress, the eclectic cafes, and the teeming crowds, you've found a peculiar treasure trove of experiences that pulse through your veins like a vibrant heartbeat. The city's flaws, laid bare like urban scars, only deepen your affection for its complex tapestry, making each chaotic street corner and neon-lit club a cherished fragment in the mosaic of your life.

As an undesired song infiltrates your playlist, you find yourself questioning its very existence on your curated soundtrack. 

Swiftly, you dismiss its intrusion, replacing its notes with the growling intensity of a much angrier anthem. 

The need for focus on this mission is paramount, an unyielding commitment that not even the persuasive tones of Jessi, with all her influence, can sway or alter.

A familiar sign with your family’s last name emerges on the horizon, unleashing a flood of memories from an idyllic childhood—filled with the echoes of hide-and-seek, the warmth of love, and the harmonious symphony of laughter—that paints both your irises and your heart in hues of nostalgia. 

Yet, as your fingers instinctively clench around the steering wheel, you staunchly refuse to be swayed by the emotional undertow. Determination courses through your veins, a steadfast resolve not to let sentiment cloud the clarity of your purpose.

With a resolute spirit, you navigate the winding road that leads to the ranch. 

As the familiar landscape unfurls before you, a creeping uneasiness takes root within the recesses of your being. Despite the passage of two decades, the ranch appears frozen in time, an unchanged picture that sends shivers down your spine. The unsettling familiarity of the place only amplifies the weight of the past, casting a shadow over your determined journey back to a place that seems to have resisted the relentless march of time.

Bringing the car to a halt before the imposing main house, you silence the engine with a decisive twist of the key. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Inhaling deeply, you draw in the essence of the moment, your fingers betraying a nervous rhythm as they tap anxiously against the steering wheel. 

The stillness belies the turmoil surging within, as you ready yourself to encounter the ghost of your past.

A mere thirty minutes— an hour at most, and you'll resume your journey on the open road, bound for the comfort of home in the city. 

Determination courses through your veins, intertwining with the staccato rhythm of your anxious heartbeat, the pulsations reverberating so forcefully that you can sense them echoing all the way to the depths of your ears. 

The moment your car door swings open, a subtle shift in the wind whispers a tale of transformation. The landscape may echo familiarity, but an intangible alteration lingers in the air, an elusive metamorphosis that leaves you questioning the very essence of this place. Is it a mere illusion, or has something truly shifted, perhaps within the confines of your own soul? 

Navigating the uneven terrain in heels proves to be a challenge, but undeterred, you conquer the dirt road and arrive at the tall front door. It stands before you, a sentinel of memories, somehow appearing taller than in recollection. The weathered, dark-red wooden door remains stoically unchanged, a silent witness to the passage of time. 

Two deliberate knocks break the stillness, and you retreat a step, a reverberation of anticipation coursing through the air as you stand on the threshold of both the past and the unknown.

The door frame, once pristine in its white coat, now bears the scars of time, its paint chipped and revealing glimpses of the weathered wood beneath. 

Stationed in front of the door, you endure a suspenseful five minutes, an eternity compressed into every passing second, yet the silence remains unbroken. Undeterred by the absence of response, a resolute determination guides your actions as you seize the handle. With a deliberate press, the handle yields, surrendering to your resolve and releasing a cacophony of creaks—a symphony of protesting hinges announcing your entrance into the realm of memories.

“Hello?” 

Your voice, tinged with uncertainty, dances into the air as you cautiously poke your head through the threshold, a hesitant entry into the familiar realms of the house. 

A gentle warmth envelops you, tenderly kissing your skin and infusing an instant sense of calm. The scent, aged and rich, swirls around you like a tangible embrace of wood and cherished memories from your childhood. The hallway stretches out before you, adorned with snapshots frozen in time—images of you and Jessi playing in the fields, your first pony, and a cherished trio with your mom. Each picture pulses with the erratic beat of your heart, echoing the palpable journey down the corridor of reminiscence. Amidst this gallery of the past, you navigate the tapestry of nostalgia, your destination set on what memory deems to be the kitchen.

The staccato clank of your heels resonates boldly against the unpolished hardwood floor, a deliberate announcement of your presence that reverberates through the silent expanse as you press deeper into the heart of the kitchen. Despite the resounding echo, a mysterious absence lingers, the emptiness amplifying the solitude within the room, a poignant contrast to the persistent cadence of your steps.

Surveying the scene, your eyes capture the delicate dance of white curtains adorned with lace, their elegance offering a stark contrast to the weathered state of the kitchen. Time has etched its story on the cabinets, pleading for a rejuvenating touch—perhaps a cleansing and a new coat of color to breathe life into the tired, faded cream. A wistful smile graces your lips, an emotive response to the tactile connection forged as your fingers trace the countertop. The surface, a touch dusty yet evocative, sparks an odd familiarity, transporting you to a realm of forgotten times and the comforting essence of what was once home.

A sudden voice startles you from your reverie, its unexpected presence slicing through the air like a well-timed interruption in the symphony of memories. 

“Can I help you?”

A jolt courses through your body, a startled response to the abrupt intrusion of the voice, yet you pivot on your heels, meeting the owner of the enigmatic, yet somehow airy, tones. 

In the face of the unexpected presence, you lock eyes with the source, a meeting that feels like a convergence of past and present, each heartbeat resonating with the electric charge surging through your body.

A nervous chuckle escapes you, the residue of your earlier determination dissipating in the charged air as you assess the man standing before you. 

His eyes, a deep and authoritative brown, lock onto yours, unraveling a silent narrative in their depths. Blonde and untamed, his long hair falls with a disheveled grace, framing a face that exudes both strength and mystery. His slender physique conceals well-defined, lean muscles beneath the snug embrace of a gray shirt, each contour subtly hinting at the strength within. Clad in blue denim jeans with artful rips at the bottom, and adorned with chunky western boots boasting intricate ornaments, he carries an aura of rugged elegance. 

“Can I help you?” he repeats, the query hanging in the air like an unspoken challenge. 

Crossing his arms over a torso that amplifies the definition of his biceps, his deliberate posture commands attention, drawing your gaze to the undeniable display of strength.

“I’m so sorry,” you quip nervously, a hint of self-awareness coloring your tone. Inwardly, you curse the fact that you were caught in the act of checking him out, and you’ve yet to acknowledge the man properly. “I’m looking for Jessi?”

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes the man, accompanied by a soft smile that carries a subtle mystique, rendering his eyes nearly elusive. 

“Who are you?” he inquires, his arms still defiantly crossed, and a flicker of realization dawns upon you—this interaction holds a peculiar tension. The awareness sets in that, in essence, you are an intruder, a stranger trespassing into the intimate space of a home that isn’t yours anymore. 

“I'm Jessi's sister,” you declare, a succinct introduction that hangs in the air. His response is a simple “Oh,” a word that resonates with a spectrum of unspoken sentiments. 

As his arms fall to his sides, his posture eases into a more relaxed stance, and his gaze, now unhindered by the barricade of crossed arms, traverses the contours of your figure. Your choice of attire—heels and a summer dress that daringly grazes your thighs—doesn't escape his notice. 

You sense his eyes lingering on your exposed legs for a beat longer than societal norms might deem appropriate.

You find yourself unapologetically appreciating his attractiveness, recognizing the allure that binds both of you in a silent dance of mutual fascination.

“You don't remember me?” 

His question pierces through the air, catching you off guard, and instinctively, you lean back against the countertop. A subtle shake of your head accompanies the inquiry, and as you witness a shadow of sadness flicker across his eyes, an unexpected weight sinks into the chambers of your heart. The unspoken question lingers—should you know this man?

“It's me, Jimin,” he asserts with a voice steeped in pride and certainty, a declaration that sets your mind into a whirlwind of attempted recollection. His name resonates with a familiarity that dances on the periphery of your memory, like an elusive wisp slipping through the cracks of forgotten moments. 

“Park?” 

You question with a voice that wavers in uncertainty, the mere utterance of the name carrying the weight of a fragile hope. As the word escapes your lips, you cling to the fragile threads of memory, desperately seeking confirmation that you've pieced together the puzzle of identity correctly.

“Yeah! Don't you remember? We played together when we were kids,” he chuckles warmly, the nostalgia of shared memories evident in his eyes.  

With a warm gesture, he invites you to take a seat, a silent acknowledgment of the intricacies of your shared history. As he crosses the room to the sink, a subtle limp marks his stride—a detail you keenly observe as you pull out a chair. Your curiosity about his altered gait tugs at your thoughts, begging for expression, yet you restrain the impulse, deeming it too forward. Silently, you observe him reaching for a glass from the overhead cabinet, pouring water with a practiced ease. 

“Here you go,” he offers, placing the glass before you. As you take it, your fingers brush momentarily, and an unexpected electric jolt courses through your body. You respond with a sheepish smile, expressing gratitude for the simple gesture. “Jessi is out riding; she'll be back soon.” 

You nod, the cool touch of the glass against your lips serving as a momentary distraction from the impending wait. As you take a measured sip of water, the realization sinks in — a quiet acknowledgment that the road back home may stretch longer than initially anticipated.

“I'm sorry about your mom,” he offers his condolences, and a palpable pain reflects in his eyes. The depth of his empathy hints at a connection with your mother that might surpass your own or perhaps, he carries the weight of loss in his own experiences. Regardless, you express gratitude, but as you do, a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders accompanies your words. “It's whatever,” you say, attempting to downplay the complexity of emotions that linger beneath the surface, yet the weight of grief echoes in the unspoken spaces between you.

He offers a minuscule smile, a mere flicker that fails to reach the depths of his eyes, and a subtle shift in the atmosphere becomes palpable. A quiet tension weaves through the kitchen, the air thickening with unspoken complexities. It's as if the very walls themselves have become sentient, closing in with a slow and deliberate intent, creating an immersive sense of confinement that mirrors the unexplored territories of emotions lingering between you and Jimin.

The rhythmic clank of boots announces her arrival before she materializes in the doorway — Jessi, a force of raw determination, a cascade of muttered curse words trailing in her wake. 

With an aura of purpose, she strides into the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy that disrupts the tension-laden air.

“Aren't you supposed to be working?” she demands, a subtle undercurrent of anger weaving through her voice as her gaze fixes on Jimin. 

You sense that you've slipped beneath her radar for now. Jimin responds with a casual chuckle, turning his head in your direction. In that moment, you feel the weight of her steel gaze bore into you.

You observe the subtle tensing of her body, her gaze meticulously scrutinizing every inch of you. Arms crossed defensively, she acknowledges your presence with a guarded stance. 

“Long time no see. What do you want?” The words, delivered with an edge that slices through the air, reverberate with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, embodying the complex web of emotions that intertwine your shared history.

Your lips involuntarily tighten, the already tense atmosphere escalating to an almost suffocating degree as Jessi's presence intensifies. A rhythmic tapping of her foot reverberates through the room, an erratic metronome that hints at a cocktail of emotions—perhaps nervousness, perhaps anger, the fine line between the two eluding your understanding. 

“The inheritance,” you utter, and a visible transformation sweeps over Jessi. Her countenance, already frosty, plunges into an even colder abyss. The pallor that washes over her skin accentuates the darkness of her brown, curly hair, transforming it into a cascade that seems to absorb the shadows of her perturbed soul.

A nervous gulp echoes in the charged silence, your attempt to fortify a wavering resolve. The mission is clear — secure her signature, liberate yourself, and sever the lingering ties. The weight of unspoken history and familial complexities hangs in the air, urging you to complete this fraught encounter, hoping that once the ink meets the paper, you’ll leave and never bother her again.

“I want to sell my share of the ranch. I just need your signature.”

The declaration hangs in the charged air, a revelation that sends a ripple through the room. Jimin tenses visibly, gaping in clear surprise at your bold proclamation. Your sister, on the other hand, is barely faring any better. The undercurrents of anger surge to the surface, a tempest of emotions that bobs precariously, threatening to breach the veneer of composure that barely holds. 

She hisses, the sound cutting through the charged silence like a serpent's warning, and grinds her teeth together with a simmering intensity. “You're not getting that,” she declares with a venomous resolve, the words laced with an unmistakable determination that resonates with the unyielding clash of wills in the room. 

The sternness and anger in her voice reverberate through the room, creating an invisible barrier. Undeterred, you summon a quiet resolve and press forward, attempting to cut through the emotional tempest that surrounds her. “I just need your signature, and then I can go,” your words, a delicate plea amidst the tumultuous clash of emotions, hang in the air, a fragile bridge between the chasm of familial discord and the resolution you seek.

She strides purposefully towards you, anger etching furrows into her brows. Coming to a halt just before your seated form, she looms over you with a fiery intensity in her eyes. 

“No. Get the fuck out,” she commands, the force behind her words reverberating in the charged space between you. The air crackles with the energy of unresolved conflicts, and her words hang in the air like a proclamation, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jimin's expression no longer holds surprise, his features now marked by a disapproving shake of his head. As Jessi retreats from you, turning with a storm brewing in her wake, the kitchen becomes an echoing chamber of unresolved tensions. She storms out, leaving you and Jimin in the wake of her departure, the remnants of conflict lingering in the air like an unspoken presence that refuses to dissipate. 

You clench your hands into tight fists, the physical manifestation of the internal turmoil that courses through you. The realization dawns, like a belated epiphany, that her vehement reaction was all but predictable. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, and you slump back into the chair, the weight of disappointment settling upon you like a shroud. This isn't unfolding as you had envisioned.

The wind whips through, mercilessly tossing your hair into a chaotic dance across your face. Grumbling, you navigate the exterior of the main house, entering a realm where nature and grandeur coalesce. The yard unfolds before you, a testament to meticulous care, stretching expansively with paddocks extending for miles. To the left, a substantial stable stands as a regal sentinel, while to the right, three cottages punctuate the landscape.

Your gaze sweeps across the panoramic expanse, capturing the undulating beauty of the paddocks that cascade over the hills while the sun slowly sets. Cows and horses graze lazily, mere dots in the vast canvas of the countryside. The scene unfolds before you like a living painting, each blade of grass, each creature contributing to the symphony of nature. Amidst this serene image, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of contemplation, pondering the labyrinth of decisions that now lay before you.

Jessi won’t give you her signature, and you need her damn ink on that paper to be able to sell your share of the ranch.

Maybe if you get on her good side, she’ll reconsider? It’s worth a try at least.

“Hi,” a lilting female voice disrupts the current of your thoughts, a melodic intrusion that yanks you back from the recesses of contemplation. Your pivot is swift, attention now redirected to the stranger who has materialized behind you.

Her hand extends gracefully towards you, a gesture that transcends the usual formalities. “I'm Soo-ah, one of the stable hands here,” she introduces herself with an easy confidence, her words resonating with a sense of belonging and familiarity within the expansive realm of the ranch.

“Ah, hi,” you muse with a soft smile, extending a handshake that bridges the gap between stranger and newfound acquaintance. Her stature is modest, a curvature of curves, with a disarming smile that reveals a charming imperfection in the form of endearing crooked teeth. Clad in short denim shorts adorned with delicate white lace on the trim and a pink tank top, she exudes an aura of comfort and warmth. Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of blue, gleam with a radiance that speaks of love and hope, amplified by the contrast against her sun-kissed tan skin.

“Your trip didn't go according to plan?” she inquires, the gentle cadence of her question accompanied by the sweep of a hand, gracefully gathering her long blonde hair away from her face. 

A chuckle escapes you, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders, as you confess, “Not really.”

“You know, this place means a lot to Jessi. It's her home. She wouldn't want you to sell your share for some random people to buy it or worse, use the land for housing or something.” Her eyes mirror the softness of her words, and a gentle smile graces her lips, a gesture that carries an unexpected soothing effect on your conflicted heart. 

The weight of her words settles on your conscience, a realization you had secretly dreaded. You grasp the depth of your sister's emotional connection to this land, an affection you once shared but have since outgrown. The prospect of selling your share, allowing strangers to lay claim to the cherished homestead, unfolds before you, and you acknowledge why Jessi vehemently opposes it. Yet, your heart remains indifferent to the sentimental ties that bind others to this place. It ceased being home long ago, and the notion of it ever regaining that status in your life appears as elusive as a distant memory fading into the horizon.

“Say what. It's late, and dinner's almost ready. Why don't you come eat with us and meet the rest of the gang? After that, I'll show you one of the guest rooms!” Her invitation resonates with a contagious enthusiasm, her voice exuding a warmth that almost verges on giddy. The surge of energy she emanates feels almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the subdued atmosphere that has accompanied your arrival.

“I haven't packed anything. I didn't plan on staying…” you mumble, your words trailing off into the evening breeze. Despite your half-hearted protest, she seizes your hand and playfully pulls you towards the main house. Reluctance threads through your steps, a tangible resistance to the unexpected detour that fate seems to be orchestrating. 

“There's a guest room in the house, and you can borrow some clothes from Jessi or me. Those heels and that dress aren't exactly farm-friendly attire.” She laughs, a melody of warmth that resonates through the short walk to the house. Soo-ah guides you to the guest room where you'll be spending the night, and then you both make your way to the kitchen. 

There, you encounter another enchanting presence—a statuesque woman, tall and slender, her ebony hair culminating at her neck. Her eyes, a captivating shade of incredibly dark brown, bordering on obsidian, stand out against her lovely fair white skin. Clad in a simple yet elegant ensemble of a dark t-shirt paired with dark blue denim jeans, she moves gracefully around the kitchen, orchestrating what appears to be a culinary feast in the making. 

“I'm Ha-rin.” A casual wave accompanies her introduction, a seamless dance of gestures as she deftly grabs a handful of vegetables with the other hand.

“This is Jessi's sister,” Soo-ah introduces you with a warm smile, and Ha-rin nods in a gesture that suggests a preexisting understanding. “How can we help?” she inquires, her words carrying a blend of genuine curiosity and an unspoken readiness to extend hospitality. 

“You can set the table. I'm almost done with the food,” she declares, seamlessly transitioning to the task of cutting carrots with a professional speed that leaves you duly impressed.

Soo-ah guides you to the location of plates and glasses, and in a synchronized dance, you both embark on setting the table in the dining room. The collaborative effort carries an unexpected warmth, a departure from the solitary routine you've grown accustomed to. The act of sharing this communal task conjures a sense of nostalgia; it's been a long time since you've partaken in such simple yet meaningful rituals. Your dining experiences have often been solitary, occasionally shared with a partner, although those instances are rare occurrences in the tapestry of your solitary meals.

In no time, Ha-rin completes the culinary masterpiece, presenting a spread of oven-cooked chicken, a colorful assortment of vegetables, and tantalizing kimchi. The table becomes a canvas adorned with the promise of a delectable feast. As you all take your seats, another presence joins the gathering—Ara, a tall woman with big brown eyes and chocolate-brown hair cascading gracefully over her shoulders. Her curves and paler skin distinguish her from Ha-rin, yet she radiates the same warmth that characterizes the group. 

The door swings open, and into the room strides your sister, a pronounced frown etching lines of disapproval on her face the moment her sharp eyes lock onto your figure seated at her dining table. 

“Didn't I tell you to leave?” Her voice cuts through the air, laden with an undeniable tension that hangs like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the gathering. 

With an exasperated roll of your eyes, you confront the directness that has always characterized Jessi, even if it doesn't always come across as nice. “It's getting dark, and Soo-ah graciously provided me with a room for the night. I'm not leaving until I get your signature,” you assert, the declaration hanging in the air like an unyielding challenge. 

Jessi's voice carries a distinct air of deflation, and it becomes evident that obtaining her signature won't be a victory achieved tonight, if at all. Resigned, she takes her place at the head of the table, a silent acknowledgment of the impasse. 

A stretch of silence envelops the dining room as everyone engages in the act of eating, a temporary truce. However, the calm is shattered as Jessi, unable to contain her emotions any longer, erupts like a dormant volcano. “Why can't you just keep your share of the ranch, huh?” Her words punctuate the air, each question a stab to the atmosphere, accentuated by the forceful plunge of her fork into the unfortunate chicken.

“Honestly?” You draw in a deep breath, preparing for the verbal fallout, fully aware that you've stepped into a minefield. “I just need the money.” The words hang in the air, a stark admission that lays bare your motivations. Jessi's frown deepens, her disapproving expression not eliciting the slightest surprise from you. 

“Why can't you just buy my share?” The words escape you in a frustrated huff, irritation building with each passing moment. Jessi's ability to get on your nerves becomes increasingly evident, a skill she's always excelled at. 

“I don't have the money to buy you out,” she states bluntly, her voice carrying a mix of blankness and anger, turning the tension at the table sour. Your plate, once adorned with the delicious offerings crafted by Ha-rin, now sits neglected, the food losing its appeal in the wake of the strained conversation. What a shame, you think, as the beautifully prepared meal becomes a casualty of the familial clash, and your appetite dissipates like the vanishing aroma of an abandoned feast.

“Why are you so mad at me?” you sputter out in frustration, resisting the almost overwhelming urge to pull at your hair in exasperation. The room echoes with a tense silence, interrupted only by the subtle sound of your sister's scuff, a precursor to the deep inhale that precedes the unleashing of her fury upon you.

“I haven't seen you in twenty years. You stomp in here, wanting to take my home away from me. And you didn't even attend Mom's funeral. Some balls you have.” Her voice is stern, each word laced with venom, and her glare cuts through you like a knife. To punctuate her disapproval, she slams her hands down hard on the table. “I'm going to bed. Goodnight.” 

Then she stomps off. At least she has some manners, you think, acknowledging the begrudging ‘goodnight’ she offered. Nevertheless, you sigh, the rest of the girls casting pitiful glances in your direction.

You lean back in the chair, contemplating the daunting challenge of ever getting on your sister's good side. The prospect seems as elusive as catching a shooting star, an almost impossible mission. Just as you sink into the depths of your thoughts, Ara shatters your contemplation with a beaming smile. “We're having a party tomorrow. Won't you stay for that?”

You take a few seconds to mull over her offer: a party in the countryside does sound intriguing, but the prospect of extended time with a sister who harbors animosity towards you gives you pause. Soo-ah, sensing your hesitation, steps in with a persuasive grin, “There'll be hot men!”

Then, in an instant, thoughts of Jimin flood your mind, and the prospect of his presence at the party becomes a tantalizing factor. A glimmer of optimism flickers; perhaps attending won't be as unbearable as you initially thought. Contemplating the possibility of a good time, you decide, “Who can say no to that?”

A forced laugh escapes your lips, but within it, there's a hint of genuine enjoyment. Sometimes, you remind yourself, you have to fake it until you make it.

The barn pulsates with the rhythm of the music, a lively mix of country tunes, not exactly your preferred genre, yet the melodies weave seamlessly into the rustic ambiance. Couples and friends sway to the slow beats on the dance floor, creating an intimate atmosphere that, despite your initial reservations, feels oddly fitting. Most attendees linger along the walls engaged in conversation, and as your eyes scan the scene, you notice a handful of men. The girls weren't exaggerating – the company includes some undeniably attractive men.

The majority of women sport casual dresses, much like the one you've borrowed from Ha-rin. Clad in a long black lace dress that subtly accentuates your curves, you navigate the sea of familiar and unfamiliar faces. In stark contrast, Jessi's attire veers towards practicality – shirt, jeans and boots, a reflection of her enduring tomboyish nature. While you entertain a fleeting thought about the silliness of her choice for a party, a deeper understanding dawns. She’s always been more practical, and her choice of clothes tonight might align with that too. 

Surveying the lively scene again, your eyes lock onto your sister, deeply engrossed in a conversation with Jimin, an interaction that sparks both curiosity and a twinge of apprehension within you. 

As Ha-rin diligently tends to the culinary offerings, ensuring a variety of light snacks for everyone, Soo-ah and Ara steal the spotlight on the improvised dance floor. Their laughter echoes through the barn, a harmonious blend of joy and camaraderie, and you can't help but be drawn into the dynamic and diverse interactions unfolding around you.

Turning on your heels, a craving for the crisp embrace of fresh air seizes you. Opting for the subtlety of a quiet exit, you make your way toward the back door of the barn. The metallic touch of the door handle graces your palm with a forgiving chill, a stark departure from the warmth and vibrancy pulsating within. Pushing the door ajar, the night air rushes to greet your face, prompting a sigh of contemplation. 

However, as you step outside, your serenity shatters with a startle – a towering, muscular figure leans against the barn, arms crossed, waiting in the shadows of the night.

A startled yelp escapes your lips, accompanied by an inadvertent inhalation of lingering smoke in the air. The features of the stranger remain elusive, shrouded in the haze, as they release a deep and resonant chuckle in response to your momentary disarray. 

“Scaredy-cat?” he teases, the resonance of his laughter causing an animated jiggle through his entire upper body. Your gaze inadvertently drifts to his well-defined pectorals, emphasized by the snug fit of his ripped tank top. The exact hue of the fabric eludes you in the dim light, a mysterious darkness with a hint of, perhaps, deep blue.

You approach him, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance, though inwardly acknowledging the undeniable truth – you are indeed a scaredy-cat. Closing the distance, your eyes trace a path from his broad shoulders down his right arm, a canvas adorned with a full sleeve of tattoos. Among the intricate designs, some manifest in striking black and white, while others burst forth with vivid splashes of color, each telling a silent tale waiting to be unraveled.

Approaching him, you realize you've left his question hanging in the air. Coming to a halt in front of this enigmatic figure, you find yourself captivated by his deep, dark brown eyes. In the obscurity of the night, tiny glints of light echo the stars above, gleaming in his gaze. His pitch black long hair, with small curls at the end, frame his handsome face. Contrary to the rugged bulk of his body, his facial features exude a surprising softness. Thick, black eyebrows frame his expressive eyes, while a slim, pointed nose adds to the symphony of features. A sharp, defined jawline contrasts with the plushness of his rosy lips, gently circling a half-smoked cigarette.

“Jessi’s sister, huh?” He inhales deeply from his cigarette, exhaling a plume of smoke that dances in the air beside you. 

“Y-Yes,” you stammer nervously, a feeble symphony to the deep timbre of his laughter. Nonetheless, you summon the courage to introduce yourself, your name a tentative melody lingering in the night air.

“I'm Jungkook.” He announces, the remnants of the cigarette meeting its demise beneath the sole of his boot, extinguishing any lingering embers. A subtle caution against the spark that could set the night ablaze.

“You look hot. Want to make out?” His gaze boldly traces over you, and a sudden self-consciousness grips you in the delicate embrace of your lace dress. Your cheeks ignite in a bright red flush, caught off guard by the unexpected boldness of his proposition.

Your flabbergasted expression seems to amuse him, and his laughter echoes, revealing an endearing smile that prompts a soft, airy chuckle to escape your lips in response.

“I'm serious, you know,” he says, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Another blush creeps up on you at his bluntness. Initially thinking he was joking, you now realize he's actually serious. As you assess him, you can't deny his incredible attractiveness, coupled with a nice smile and soft eyes. Perhaps he can't be all bad, right?

You saunter closer, conducting a swift yet thorough assessment of him. With a teasing lick of your lips, you signal that you're up for the game. “Sure.”

In a bold surge, he captures your lips, biting down on your lower lip as if seeking entrance. Yielding to the magnetic pull, your tongues engage in a fiery dance. His hands firmly grip your shoulders, giving a reassuring squeeze before deftly maneuvering you against the wall.

In a ravenous and swift embrace, his lips claim yours, leaving you breathless when he breaks away, his gaze smoldering with a lustful intensity that ignites a fiery sensation beneath your skin. Though not one to engage in impulsive encounters, the intoxicating allure of the moment fans the flames of excitement within you. Reminding yourself of the imminent departure tomorrow, you boldly lean in, craving another taste, and surrender to the intoxicating dance of desire.

As the kiss deepens, his demeanor doesn't exude sweetness or tenderness, and strangely, you find solace in that. After all, tomorrow marks your return home. The intensity of his kiss, possessive and profound, spirals you into a mindless whirlwind, your thoughts dissipating into nothingness, overwhelmed by the feeling of his rugged frame pressed firmly against yours.

His gravelly voice breaks the kiss momentarily as he breathlessly declares, “Your lips are so damn soft.” 

Locking eyes with you, he plunges back into the intoxicating exchange, this time with an urgent and fervent intensity that mirrors his escalating desire, leaving little room for restraint.

Your fingers dig into the firm contours of his hips, tracing an electrifying path along the sculpted landscape of his toned body. The rhythmic play of his muscles beneath your touch is a tactile symphony, every ridge and sinew a testament to his strength, creating an intricate dance beneath the fabric of his shirt.

His lips embark on a tantalizing journey, lingering on your cheek with teasing kisses before reaching your ear. A low, guttural growl escapes his lips as he presses his pelvis against you, sending a bolt of electricity through your body. The warmth of his breath against your ear ignites a wildfire of sensations, and the undeniable presence of his arousal is impossible to ignore. Control slips away like sand through your fingers, and you find yourself succumbing to the irresistible pull of desire.

You bite down on your lips, the struggle to suppress a moan palpable. Despite the lively party unfolding just a breath away, Jungkook possesses an uncanny ability to whisk you into a world of his own creation, making the chaotic celebration fade into insignificance.

His hands explore the contours of your breasts, coaxing a soft moan from your lips. The absence of padding in your bra leaves your nipples immediately responsive to his teasing fingers. Sensations surge through you, and as your panties cling uncomfortably, an urgent desire to shed them intensifies.

His breath hot against your ear, he whispers, “I want to fuck you so bad, can I?”

The firm squeeze on your breasts sends a wave of desire through you. Fuck. The craving intensifies, and the anticipation of being with him grows insatiable. It's been an eternity since you felt this desire, and you're already on the edge, yearning for his touch.

Your response escapes in a breathy whisper, “Hell yes.” 

Your fingers find purchase on the contours of his chest, seeking stability amid the whirlwind of desire that envelops you both.

The symphony of desire crescendos as you catch the melodic jingle of his belt being undone, the tantalizing slide of metal against leather, and the whisper of a zipper surrendering its secrets. Soon, his jeans cascade down, pooling around his knees.

Your curiosity takes over, compelling you to cast an audacious gaze downward, and even through the fabric of his underwear, the impressive outline of his arousal is undeniable. The undeniable bulge hints at a restrained intensity, and summoning your courage, you boldly cup him, your touch sending a low, guttural groan reverberating through the charged air.

“Are you good to go without any prep?” His question, a tantalizing whisper in your ear, sends shivers down your spine, and the resonant, lust-laden timbre of his voice resonates deep within you. 

Nodding in affirmation, you can't help but bite your lip, feeling the promise of an exhilarating encounter ahead. “Yes,” you murmur, a breathy admission to the impending intensity.

As he lowers his underwear, his dick is unleashed, an impressive display of length and girth, veins tracing its sculpted form. The engorged head, flushed and intense, undergoes a few suggestive strokes from his skilled hands, droplets of precum glistening as they descend to the ground below.

His touch is commanding, fingers tracing a path down the contours of your dress, gathering the fabric in his strong grip. Swiftly, his hands venture beneath, reaching the apex of your panties. In one bold motion, he removes them, allowing them to cascade to the ground as you gracefully step out, shedding inhibitions along with the delicate undergarment.

Unexpectedly, he seizes your hips, effortlessly lifting you into the air. As you leap, your legs instinctively wrap around his tiny waist, aligning your bare core with his throbbing dick, a subtle gasp escaping your lips as your wetness coats his cock.

A soft moan escapes your lips at the tantalizing contact, and Jungkook, seizing the opportunity, grips your supple curves, pressing you firmly against the wall for stability. Skillfully, he produces a condom out of thin air, wraps his cock with it and positions his dick at the entrance of your eager pussy. Your hands instinctively clutch his neck, a mixture of anticipation and desire written across your face as you brace yourself for the impending ecstasy. With a devious smile playing on his lips, he tantalizingly teases the velvety folds of your cunt with the head of his cock. But the pretense of gentleness is short-lived, as he discards any lingering pleasantries and thrusts his dick into your warm and eager core in one seamless motion.

A gasp escapes your lips as an exquisite stretch engulfs you, momentarily testing your limits. Yet, the generous coating of your arousal ensures that the discomfort swiftly transforms into an intoxicating wave of pleasure, leaving a tingling sensation in its wake.

He moves with an urgency that suggests an impending deadline, setting a pace that mirrors a sense of immediacy, as if time is a luxury he can't afford. The reasons behind his haste remain a mystery, and in this moment, you find yourself indifferent to the ticking clock, wholly absorbed in the intensity of the present.

“Mmmhh. You’re so tight.” 

You gasp at the force of his thrusts, feeling the impact resonate through your body as your back collides with the wall. The slight discomfort is eclipsed by the overwhelming pleasure, and his raspy pants only intensify the raw, visceral connection between you, each movement a symphony of pleasure and urgency. He thrusts forcefully, plunging into the depth of your pussy.

Wrapping your legs around him, you greedily pull him closer, breathless huffs escaping your lips with each relentless thrust. “Yes! Right there!” The pleasure becomes almost blinding as he unerringly targets that sweet, sensitive spot, sending shockwaves of pleasure that build an exquisite tension, promising an impending climax that pulses in the depths of your core.

“Shit.” He pants huskily into your ear, a shiver running down your spine in response. The intensity of his thrusts is unparalleled, each powerful movement leaving an indelible mark on your senses. The realization hits you that tomorrow might bring soreness, but in the heat of the moment, with a dick this good, you decide it's a price worth paying.

Your moans have evolved into uninhibited symphonies, each thrust hitting that exquisite spot that sends shockwaves through your body. The coil in your tummy tightens, ready to snap, just waiting for that final nudge to propel you over the edge. “I’m so close.”

Jungkook's grip on your ass tightens, but with skilled precision, he frees one hand and navigates it down the narrow space between your bodies. Despite the limited room, his large hand finds your clit and begins to rhythmically rub it to the beat of his thrusts. The sensation is mind-blowing. Every rub and thrust unravel your body, sending waves of ecstasy through every inch of your being.

Then he leans in, his hot breath grazing your ear, and he moans, pushing you right over the edge, “Come on my cock, pretty.”

“Jungkook!” You pant his name erratically as the coil inside snaps, and you release your fluid over his cock, synchronized with his relentless thrusts. You gasp for air, momentarily feeling your vision blur as your orgasm surges through your spent body.

He keeps thrusting into you, and you feel utterly spent, so you’re just hanging on and clinging to him for dear life. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, closing your eyes as he relentlessly fucks you, searching for his own sweet release.

At a particularly hard thrust, you open your eyes, and they collide with a figure standing in the shadows. 

Brown eyes and blonde hair meet yours. 

You gulp, feeling your core clench instinctively. 

It's Jimin. 

His eyes reflect a mix of sadness and disappointment as they lock onto yours for a few lingering moments. He turns away and retreats back into the lively party. You don’t appreciate the unsettling expression on Jimin’s face, but there’s little you can do about it now. A strange and disconcerting feeling settles in your stomach.

“Fuck, you just got tighter, babe. I’m almost there.” His hands tighten their grip, his biceps flexing as he pulls you closer, syncing your movements with the intensity of his thrusts.

You sense Jungkook's thrusts growing more erratic, a telltale sign he's close. Despite his exhaustion, he strives to give his all in those final fervent moments, and you feel the warmth of his release filling the condom inside you as his pace slows. He's visibly breathless, and you empathize; after all, he exerted himself, utilizing every ounce of strength to keep you elevated. In his position, you'd likely be a panting mess on the ground.

“You good?” He inquires, scrutinizing your expression. Whether he discerns the melancholy etched on your face or not, he doesn't comment. Gently withdrawing from you and discarding the condom, he steadies you on shaky legs. You respond with a pensive smile and a nod. The night was undeniably enjoyable, yet Jimin's forlorn gaze lingers in your thoughts, casting a shadow over the post-passion atmosphere.

“I had a good time, thank you.” You muster a smile, though it feels a bit strained. Whether he perceives it or not is uncertain, and even if he does, you doubt it holds much significance to him.

“Same here. Thanks, babe.” His laughter rumbles as he rights himself, adjusting his underwear and fastening his pants. As he tends to his attire, you scan the floor for your abandoned panties.

As you retrieve them, you notice the dirt clinging to the delicate fabric, deciding against putting them on. Instead, you allow them to slip from your grasp, figuring you'll retrieve them tomorrow for a wash. The last thing you want is to flaunt dirty underwear at the party.

Jungkook strides confidently back into the lively party, and you trail closely in his wake, anticipation and a lingering heat coloring the air around you.

As you reenter the vibrant party scene, a sudden hush falls over the crowd, and the weight of all eyes on you feels like an invisible spotlight, making you wish for a momentary escape beneath the ground.

As you scan the crowd for Jimin, your gaze briefly collides with his, only to witness him quickly diverting his eyes elsewhere. 

A perplexing mix of emotions lingers in his gaze—perhaps hurt or frustration. Puzzled, you question the impact of your intimate encounter outside, contemplating why he might be affected when, by all accounts, you share no significant ties.

As you enter the dining room, the tempting aroma of Ha-rin's carefully prepared breakfast envelops you, offering a flavorful farewell before you embark on your journey back to the bustling city.

As you approach the table, a surprising sense of harmony fills the room, with everyone already seated, including Jessi, who appears to be in higher spirits—perhaps fueled by the knowledge that she’s getting rid of you today.

Soo-ah's eyes sweep the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she starts, “ I discovered a pair of lacy red panties outside the barn this morning.”

You nearly choke on your food, a sudden realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. “Shit. Those are mine. Completely slipped my mind. My bad.”

All eyes suddenly fixate on you, their curiosity palpable. Soo-ah's gaze is practically bulging out of her eyes, Ara looks equally stunned, and Ha-rin can't help but release an amused ‘ooohh.’ Even Jessi, with her usual nonchalant demeanor, can't completely hide the flicker of intrigue in her eyes as she rolls them at the unfolding gossip.

Curiosity and a mischievous glint spark in Ara's big brown doe eyes as she leans forward, her cheeks tinted with a hint of red, and pops the question, “Who did you fuck?”

Between casual bites of scrambled eggs, you drop the bombshell, “A guy named Jungkook. You know him?” The nonchalance in your tone does little to mask the intrigue dancing in your eyes, leaving the table hanging on your every word.

A heavy hush descends upon the table, and you scan the faces around you, perplexed by the sudden silence. Disapproval lingers in Jessi's slow shake of the head, while the exchange of disconcerting glances among the girls hints at a shared, unspoken concern.

“What’s wrong?” Concern etches your voice as you inquire, the subtle panic seeping through, unable to grasp the sudden tension enveloping the table.

Soo-ah leans in dramatically, her words hanging in the air like a heavy secret. “You fucked Jungkook,” she drawls, the gravity of her statement sinking in, and a chill coursing through your veins. “The same Jungkook who's been with half the town—Park Jungkook.” The weight of his name leaves you wide-eyed, a sinking feeling settling in your gut.

Your jaw practically hits the floor, or it would if that were humanly possible. Park? Jungkook and Jimin are brothers?

Fuck.

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

Omg 🫢 How did you like the ending??? I hope you won’t be too mad… The fling with Jungkook only happens this one time, but necessary to happen for the rest of the story to make sense 🥲

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[anitalianfrie]

so, after trials and tribulations and many many insults thrown the way of bad quality vhs, i proudly present you: the translation of the video of vale's eighteen birthday!

when there were long pauses between the dialogue, i put the timestamp before it. my comments are between [] .

video and translation under the cut :)

Vale (VO): the “Valentino Rossi production” presents, in collaboration with the idiots of Tavullia, this epic footage. 

Vale(VO): Valentino Rossi, the man, the rider, the moron, turns eighteen 

Vale(VO): there’s a new name in the register of the Carabinieri [cops] of Tavullia, it’s him, Valentino Rossi, the kid with a man’s body and the IQ of a boiled zucchini. He gets from his father a great shaft and the brain of the chicken he used to keep on a leash. Valentino Rossi, the man, the rider, the moron, when he gets interviewed he says about himself “I’m Valentino Rossi” and then he loses his focus. He doesn’t like to define himself a nepo baby because he doesn’t know what it means. The one who merges the spirit of a rider with the hair of a folk drummer. Everybody seeks him, everybody calls him, but once they get to talk with him they mourn the loss of the answering machine. 

Vale(VO): contacted by the Philip Morris International for a contract of billions, he declines the offer because he doesn’t smoke. Valentino Rossi, he rocks! And the Aprilia makes a wheelie. 

Vale(VO): the next one will be his second year of competing in the world championship, but he still thinks he’s riding on a minibike, and he’s perpetually desolated because after the chequered flag he can’t find the turtle on his helmet. Nowadays, he’s the only rider paid by the Japanese to stay with Aprilia. Let’s enter his kingdom, his home, thing that sometimes he can’t do because he topples over in his ape car in the parking lot below. 

(4.44) 

Boy1: Marshall 

Boy2: Oh, let me look at the video 

Boy1: Marshall 

Boy2: C’mon, get out of there 

Boy1: Marshall. What then? 

Vale: How are you? 

Boy2: Nice, with the Marshall starting 

Vale: Cosmic 

[i have honestly no clue what this conversation is supposed to mean. It might be an inside joke, or they could be taking about an actual marshal of the Carabinieri] 

Int: Valentino Rossi, how does it feel to be eighteen? 

Vale: eh, how does it feel... eighteen years old, it’s an important age, we’ve all become a bit older, I have – rather than we have – gotten more mature compared to when i was younger, you don’t do the things you used to anymore, we’re all way calmer, basically now is... now it’s time to leave the fun behind and to get serious 

(6.26) 

Vale(behind the camera): Come on! Super risky! 

Vale: Do it here! 

Vale: Go again! 

Vale: Now it’s sure [unintelligible] get down! 

Vale (after the guy “jumps” with the bike): You need, you need the feeler gauge to measure how high he jumped! We measure it with gauge! (laughs) 

Boy: even the wheels! 

Boy: vale? 

Vale: eh? 

Boy: turn it off 

Boy: incredibly- 

Vale: wait, wait- okay, now go, a comment on this sensational jump- super high, a jump out of this world, done by Michele 

Boy: incredibly, the wheels touched the ground even on the [unintelligible] 

Michele: that’s thanks to the suspensions, really... optimal, that let me- 

Vale: a question Michi, wait- 

Michele: -all this speed, and... 

Vale: I’m zooming on you... but how did you do it? 

Michele: Oh God, i don’t- 

Vale: fucking hell, it was sensational, a- 

Michele: the good thing is- 

Vale: -mind-blowing jump 

Michele: did you see how i got down? 

Vale: ah- fuck, no 

Michele: you didn’t see it? 

Vale: it was out of the thingy, out of the lens and.... now we try the calibre and we measure [unintelligible] 

Voices: Whooo, let’s go!  

Vale: show off!! 

Vale: now we will show you a trick, that even Orfei [name of a famous circus]- Orfei came to Tavullia and asked us to perform it. Look. It’s on the verge of the unpredictable 

(8.46) 

Boy1: Oh god 

Boy2: another Panda 

Boy2: three motor scooters, incredible, incredible! 

[keouil]

desire tastes different if god bore you hungry

“gojo can’t say no to her,” yaga comments. “ever notice that?” 4k. gojo/shoko. fluff. also on ao3.

Getou is the first to notice.

They’re walking back to school from a midnight konbini run, pale moonlight streaming in through the gaps in the trees. This late into a school night Yaga would have usually schooled them a hundred ways into obedience and called them out for breaking curfew again, but evidently being thrust into premature guardianship of a panda who was a Panda meant he had significantly less time babysitting other minors. That, and the fact they let Shoko stand guard outside the faculty building.

“Uh,” Getou stares unsurely at the mounting pile of food crammed in the single eco bag they brought. “Weren’t we just going to get ice cream..?”

Gojo, already sucking on a lollipop, also looks down at the bag nestled under his arm. “We have ice cream.”

“You bought out an entire shelf of deserts,” Getou points out.

“I wasn’t sure which one was the best,” Gojo counters right back.

Getou keeps a steady gaze on him, noting the moonlight dancing on his eyes and the usual spring in his step. That was nothing new, his inability to stay still. What is, however, is maybe:

“Are you sure it’s not just because you freaked out hearing her scream?”

Gojo falters in his step a little. “Tch,” he clicks his tongue. “Like you didn’t.”

“I’m used to girls and their hormonal mood swings,” Getou recounts, taking the other half of the bag and slinging it under his fingers. They walked with it hanging between them. “You forget—you’re the only one of us who grew up in a freaky clan compound isolated from modern society.”

“Well,” Gojo gestures around them, grinning. “I’m learning, aren’t I?” 

“I’m pretty sure leaping to your feet the moment Shoko yelled at us to get her food or she’ll skin us alive and proceeding to buy out an entire shop’s worth of parfaits is exactly the kind of thing only clan kids do,” Getou retorts, too amused for his own good. “I doubt that’s real world training at all.”

Gojo shoves him, maybe a little playfully, maybe a little not. “What would you have done then?” he declares. “If you know so much about everything?”

“First of all,” Getou starts, tugging back his side of the bag that was now dangerously nearing overflow levels. Really, Gojo and his temper. “I would have actually waited for her to finish talking.”

Gojo blinks. “I waited,” he says, confident. “She wanted ice cream.”

Getou flicks his forehead with his free hand. “She wasn’t done talking, you idiot!” he says. “You heard her complaining about period cravings and teleported us the fuck out within the next second!”

Not a single strand of comprehension makes its way to Gojo’s face. 

“I feel like you’re getting to a point here that I’m not seeing.”

Getou abruptly stops a few steps away from the red torii gates.

“I’m saying,” he elaborates, patience paper-thin but enduring. “To not panic right away, Satoru. You did the same thing at target practice last week. Pretty sure Yaga is still annoyed you called him back to school in the middle of a meeting for no reason.”

“The blood thing?” Gojo looks even more confused.

Getou counts to three in his head. “No,” he breathes out, evenly. “I’m talking about you accidentally hitting Shoko’s arm with your cursed pen and flipping out in the clinic. She has RCT, you fool, she could have managed just fine. You throwing a tantrum just made things worse for everyone.”

Gojo blinks once, twice. “She was bleeding.”

“Of a fucking kiddie scratch by a Mongol pen,” Getou rolls his eyes, tugging his half of the bag just to irk him. “That didn’t even need RCT to begin with. A simple band-aid would have done the trick.”

“You didn’t think to tell me when all this was happening?” Gojo tugs the bag right back, glaring at him accusingly.

Getou rolls his eyes again. “You wouldn’t even let me carry her.” 

“Please,” Gojo scoffs, guiding them back up the stairs. “You think she did? I practically had to hold her down kicking and screaming.”

“What is it then?” Getou prods. “You scared of her or something?”

“Aren’t you?” Gojo hisses right back.

Getou thinks on it. “I probably should,” he concedes. “But she likes me too much.”

“Shoko hates everyone and will use us as human shields for Utahime the second she can,” Gojo insists. “And you know it.”

“Even so,” Getou shrugs.

Gojo huffs, annoyed. “Exactly,” he grits out. “Even so.” 

They find Shoko back in Getou’s room. She was sprawled out in his bed, hair fanning out over the covers, and reading the latest issue of Naruto. His mini-fridge had been totally ran through, granola bars haphazardly half-opened and half-eaten that is almost laughably a picture of someone convincing themselves they like protein bars out of necessity and giving up halfway. Getou would have to do another grocery run that week, with Shoko assaulting half his fridge and rendering most of the contents useless.

“Did you get mango like I asked?” is the first thing she says, not even bothering to look up from her book. 

“Mango, vanilla, pomegranate, strawberry,” Getou lists off, placing the carton by her head. “The whole damn forest if you will.”

“I hate strawberry,” Shoko says tonelessly. Gojo was already plopped down next to her, skimming the manga. “Get rid of it.”

“It’s for me,” Gojo offers, reaching out to still her flipping hands. “Wait, slow down, Shoko, I wasn't finished with the page yet.”

Shoko abruptly turns to her side, completely blocking his view.

“Kakashi dies.”

Getou barely manages to hold Gojo down from stabbing her in the eye with a plastic fork.

-

“Anyone want my tomato?”

Getou’s chopsticks are already making their way over to grab it from Shoko’s plate, when another pair beats him to it.

“Oi,” Getou scowls, side-eyeing him from the corner of his eye.

Gojo doesn’t even hide the shit-eating grin on his face, the corners of his mouth caked with nori flakes. “Too slow!” he slurs, furikake flying everywhere. 

Getou makes a face before shoving a wad of napkins his way. He looks over at Shoko’s lunch again, frowning. “What have you even been eating these past few days?”

Shoko doesn’t hide her disdain as she frowns down at her food. “Protein,” she grumbles, poking at a piece of steamed chicken. Getou flicks her chopsticks with his to make her stop. Shoko glares up at him before continuing, more woefully, “For stamina building or whatever.”

“What do you need muscle for?” Gojo muffles, still scarfing down the rest of his karaage. 

Getou considers her a moment. “You’re training, then?”

Shoko makes a loose shrug of approval, still looking pitifully down her lunch. “Not as intense as you guys do,” she says. “I already told Yaga I want to be a non-combatant. But he still wants me as limber as possible just in case.”

Getou and Gojo share a look.

It’s true they’d been deployed on more and more missions as a two-man cell, but Shoko was never too far from the area and was always strategically located to be called on for back-up if and when situations called for it. She’d always been on the petite side, and they had in fact checked themselves, one bored April afternoon: light as a feather, if the almost weightless way Getou could carry her in one arm or Gojo could transport them both easily was any indication.

“I can cook for you?” Getou offers instead. “I know some protein-rich recipes that don’t taste as bland.”

Shoko trusts his cooking, he knows; they all do. When you make a living out of eating and digesting curses, it helps to find a few ways to season around the bile. So it doesn’t really come as a surprise when Shoko gives him just the briefest hint of a smile, a wordless thanks.

“I don’t suppose either of you eat lentil?” Shoko looks at them hopefully, the closest to pleading they’d ever gotten from her. Getou feels Gojo stiffen, almost imperceptibly, at his side.

Getou looks over her soup, remorseful. “Ah, sorry, Shoko,” he starts. “We’re—”

A hand shoots out from beside him to drag the bowl away. By the time he turns his head, Gojo is already finishing the last drop of the lentil soup that clearly didn’t look as savory as he was savoring it. 

“Done!” Gojo yells out triumphantly, grinning from ear to ear. 

Getou raises a brow. Gojo kicks his foot from under the table.

Shoko mumbles her thanks before standing up, dragging her tray with her. “I need to get seconds,” she says, irately. “You guys want anything?”

Getou waves her off at the same time Gojo calls out, “Milk yoghurt!”

It doesn’t take five seconds for the red spots to start appearing on Gojo’s neck, hot and fiery and angry. Getou smacks him on the head when he’s sure Shoko isn’t looking. 

“Idiot,” he hisses. “You’re allergic to lentil. We both are.”

“I know,” Gojo woefully rubs the spot on his neck, but still, that same sliver of triumph sneaks its way through the lopsided grin he gives him not a moment after. “But unlike you, I have RCT.”

-

Shoko is the one who gets the message.

“He texted you?” Gojo asks, a little breathless, a little unmoored. “Suguru did? Are you sure?”

It’s a testament to how much they’re both knee deep in their anger but recognize enough not to lash it out on each other when, instead of recoiling, Shoko just takes a breath, and says calmly: “Yes. A few minutes ago.”

Gojo was going to feel personally wronged, she knows. He was going to start doubting the gravity of everything he’d ever known if the near life-shattering mission they just did in Okinawa was going to be dismissed as simply as opting to text her instead of him. 

She doubts Getou meant it that way, but she also knows Gojo’s not going to see it that way now that they’ve become so unhealthily codependent. He might even be a little mad at her. She knows this to be true in her bones, because had the situation been reversed, she’d be a little mad at him too.

Yaga coughs to break the tension. 

“Where is he?” asks Yaga, eyebrow raised.

Shoko directs her attention to him, feeling the ground beneath her settle just a fraction at his composure. “Shinjuku,” she reveals. “Somewhere by Omoide Yokocho.”

Gojo is still trying to wrap his mind around it, the wheels in his head going a mile a minute. Shoko recognizes the disorientation, has long past worked through hers because she knows Gojo will need a minute for this, if not, forever.

“I’ll go,” Shoko declares.

That breaks Gojo out of it. “I’ll go with you.”

Shoko doesn’t say anything. She expected at least this much, and nods balefully.

Yaga looks back and forth between them, the line of his stare assessing and maybe a little pitying. They normally wouldn’t even ask for permission and bolted to carthage burning right then and there, but that was before. When you have a classmate who turns into a mass murderer in less than the time it takes for a season to change, it makes sense they would need guidance this time around. 

"You can go," Yaga finally decides, nodding at Gojo. "But Shoko stays."

"The fuck she does," Shoko finds herself blurting out at the same time Gojo says, "No."

“Listen here you two,” Yaga levels them both with a look. “There have been enough casualties this term. There have been enough sacrifices for a year. We will not be adding any more than is necessary.”

Shoko looks affronted. “Do—” she starts. “We’re not going to—we’re just going to talk.”

Yaga looks over at Gojo, mouth set in a grim line. Yes, he eyes him knowingly, Some talk.

“He’s a special grade criminal, Shoko,” Yaga turns to her, to his benefit softens his tone as much as he can. “And as of right now I can’t afford anyone of a lesser rank—let alone a non-combatant—dealing with him. Not when you’re the only RCT user we have on active duty.”

“Gojo can use RCT!” Shoko pleads, clutching tighter to her phone. Yaga hears a jingle of a keychain attached to it, grimaces slightly when he sees the exact same pair on Gojo’s, and doesn’t have to look to confirm, Getou’s. “It's not like we’re not going to war. We just want to talk to him," she stops. "I want to talk to him.”

“Gojo, like you, is a sorcerer who is bound to the regulations of this school first,” Yaga lets his eyes flicker towards him, chiding if not burning. “Isn’t that right?”

Gojo says nothing, just staring at the panda charm sloshing against Shoko’s phone.

"Satoru." Yaga calls out, finality in his tone.

Gojo blinks, about to reply, when:

"Gojo." Shoko says, and really, that's all it takes.

He's going to give in, Yaga swears bitterly, He always gives in. 

In the three years he’s taught them, he's never seen Gojo even summon so much as a shake of his head to any of her requests. Half of it’s to do with how codependent they all unexpectedly become, the secular and often isolating nature of being jujutsu students in training. Even Getou spoiled her. But he’s never been able to tell her no and wouldn't start now. 

Especially now.

Quick like lightning Gojo is already next to her, wrapping an arm around her side, bowing his head low to whisper a gentle but firm reminder to hold on. He lifts his gaze to Yaga's, a wordless apology playing out on his face.

They’re gone by the time Yaga blinks.

-

“Say that again?”

Shoko clicks her tongue at him, reprimanding, but not without its usual malice. “Sweden,” she repeats. “I’m going to Sweden.”

“Whatever the hell for?” Gojo gently moves her out of the way, taking charge of the grocery cart. They’re in Daimaru on a Saturday night, and being anything less than swift would have any of the hundred obaa-sans crawling through the grocery chain call them out for being entitled, disrespectful millennials. “I thought you found a post-doc program in Hyogo?”

“I did,” Shoko falls into step easily next to him. “And that same professor recommended a molecular neuroscience program in Sweden. They do specialized research on cell anatomy there, you know, research that I can’t access easily here in Japan.”

Gojo looks over the fruit aisle. “Sure about that?” he asks. “I can call some people—”

“No need,” Shoko waves him off easily, plucking a few strawberries off the wagon and placing them in the cart. “I already checked with Yaga. He has some contacts there that can set me up, and maybe someone to teach me advanced RCT too.”

“I can teach you,” blurts Gojo without thinking, zeroing on the fact she wasn’t even looking over the mangoes, nevermind this grocery trip was supposed to be for the whole dorm. “I know RCT.”

“You know as much as you need to know to heal yourself,” Shoko points out breezily, coming up next to him to give him a knowing look. “And I need to know as much of everything to heal everyone. It’s not the same, Gojo.”

Gojo looks away first. Shoving a pack of mangoes to the cart, asks gruffly, “How long?”

Shoko eyes the mangoes but doesn’t say anything. Gojo’s not sure what he’d do if she took them out, maybe burn the whole department down? He was growing more temperamental these days, growing out of that teenage jailbait skin and skinning himself thin into the kind of body that took care of other people. That other people now looked to for caring.

“Two years,” replies Shoko. 

Gojo skids to a stop. “Two years?”

“That’s what I said.”

“You’re leaving me for two years?”

He can feel the beginnings of a laugh play out in her lungs, amusement dancing in her features. “Since when were you so clingy?”

“Since always and you know it,” Gojo wheels the cart forward again, stopping just when he’s right next to her. He looks on, trying to gauge how serious she was considering they're maybe a week from the first day of April and had taken it upon themselves to be as mean with their practical jokes knowing there was no one else left to understand. “I have always been clingy and you know this so you really can’t leave me alone with Yaga for two years unsupervised, Shoko, or else we might end up just really killing each other. Or I’ll let him. Sensei chain of command and all that shit.”

“Ijichi is still here,” Shoko trails off, adding a few milk cartons to the pile. Morinaga, his favorite. He really might just burn the whole block down. “And Meimei and Utahime and even Nanami, if you play nice.”

They reach the rice corner where Shoko vainly tries heaving a full load to their pile alone, lean but slim arms straining to even get the bag upright. Gojo looks on in amusement for five seconds, before finally giving in and gently moving her aside.

“I’ll visit every summer,” Gojo looks down at her after they’ve managed to lodge it in. “And every winter and spring and fall.”

“Please don’t.”

“You can’t stop me.”

“No, but Yaga can.”

“He can’t stop me.”

“Missions will.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Then,” Shoko turns to him just as they’re about to round a corner, her gaze softening. “Megumi and Tsumiki will.”

And goddamn her, Gojo thinks, How can he say no to that?

-

“How many are we supposed to get?”

“I think three.”

“Why are you holding seven then?”

Megumi blinks, looking down at the edofurin strings wrapped around his fingers. “Ah,” he says. “Gojo likes the charmed ones. You can’t get this in Tokyo.”

They’re on the last day of an excursion mission in Himeji, the sound of izakaya stalls setting up and out of towners wheeling in their luggage across the small night market accompanying their last minute shopping. They had a list of souvenirs from the second years to purchase—Nishitomo crab crackers for Inumaki, the local kanzashi for Maki, a whetstone from Fushimi Inari for Yuuta, the representative animal plushies for Panda—that they only had time to shop for now.

Gojo also repeatedly gushed about the furin wind chimes he fleetingly saw the last time he was there, but also made it aggravatingly clear he was afforded no time whatsoever to go back and would my lovely sweet students mind getting a few for their lovely sweet sensei?

Yuji was quick to list down his preferred designs on the spot. Nobara pretended not to hear him. Megumi didn’t even need to listen to his passionate speech about the furin history and why he wanted this and that, having long catalogued exactly the kind of print he was eyeing: orange petals and golden brown tree bark. The color of changing autumn leaves. 

“Okay,” replies Nobara hesitantly, still looking over the hanging tassels dangling off his arm. “Just seems like a lot, don’t you think?”

“It’s a superstition thing,” Megumi shares, tailing them in the artisan shop. “You hang furin on your office for goodluck. These charmed ones from Himeji chase the bad spirits away, like the Inari.”

Yuji and Nobara, this time, look over at him weirdly in uniform fashion.

Megumi flushes. “Or something, I don’t know!” he grumbles. “He doesn’t shut up about it ever! You’re bound to pick up on things!”

Nobara takes a closer look at the design. “These are November furin,” she notes. “Isn’t he born in December?”

“These aren’t for Gojo,” mumbles Megumi some more, growing more annoyed at being a glorified errand boy. “He wants to get this for Ieiri-san. She’d never buy it for herself, any way.”

“Shoko?” asks Yuji, bringing a basket over to their growing items and carefully untangling the threads. “Why?”

“Look at the price,” Megumi takes particular care in depositing the glass balls, because Gojo would know. He tugs the basket closer to him when he notices Nobara making grabby hands for it, but not before the price tag dangles in their line of vision just enough to see the staggering number.

Predictably, Yuji and Nobara gasp in horror.

“A ball of glass costs this much?!”

“This is almost my entire savings!”

Megumi waves them off easily, already making his way to the self-checkout. “They’re charmed by Shinto priests who used to be sorcerers,” he explains. “It makes sense.”

“I think growing up under Gojo’s black card has significantly altered your sense of price economics,” Nobara trails after him, still looking at the basket, but now with a little more glint in her eye that practically spelled out money. Megumi tucks it further into him. “A wind bell cannot seriously cost this much. It’s a fucking wind bell, Fushiguro.”

“A charmed wind bell,” Megumi emphasizes, depositing the basket carefully into the counter. “And when have you ever known Gojo to spare no expense?”

“For himself?” Yuji comes up at his side, also still a little shaken. “Almost always and in disgusting levels of hedonism. For other people? For this much?” he gestures at the price tag, wincing at the amount of 0s. “Never.”

“He pays for my tuition,” Megumi finds himself saying.

“You’re basically his son,” Yuji parrots back unyielding.

Megumi looks downright offended. “I,” he croaks out. “Am not.”

“Am too,” shoots Nobara, plucking off the wallet Megumi was halfway through rummaging. She zeroes in on the shiny black plastic and tugs it out, open mirth in her eyes. “And how nice for Daddy to give us endless shopping money.”

Megumi yanks it out of her hands. “This is only for emergency purposes.”

Nobara looks back and forth between him and what were essentially strips of paper tied to a transparent ball. “And this is an emergency?”

This time, the well-knowing smirk Megumi gives them clues them in on exactly how alike he’d unconsciously adapted some of Gojo’s more annoying quirks.

“With Ieiri-san?” he cocks a brow, wicked. “It might as well be a matter of life and death.”

-

“Gojo can’t say no to her,” Yaga comments. “Ever notice that?”

They’re at Yuji’s official homecoming party after being, for all intents and legal purposes, declared dead for the better part of 3 months. Cake is being munched on gleefully by the second years, Nobara threatening to make him a snowman out of icing if Yuji didn’t stop pestering her for all the latest gossip he missed out on in the jujutsu grapevine. Panda was stealthily trying to get more than the assigned 2 slices per person, Yuuta side-eyeing him in the moments he wasn’t busy hanging off Maki’s every word.

Megumi was somewhere between Gojo and Shoko, looking three lifetimes done with whatever conversation they were having. 

More than once Yaga saw him attempt to open his mouth, only to be silenced harshly by Gojo through a dismissive hiss, or as amicably by Shoko through a well-placed hand on his shoulder. Last Yaga passed them, he thinks he overheard Gojo say something about buying him an entirely new set of uniforms after he damaged some of it during the exchange. 

Absolutely not, Shoko seethed. The one he has right now is fine. People are dying and starving and you’re already on thin ice with your spending. Your spoiled charge will live, Gojo.

“Sorry, what?” Nanami asks, looking up from the newspaper he brought into the party because apparently being a jujutsu sorcerer didn’t divorce the corporate slave in him who always wanted to be updated on current affairs. “What’s this about Gojo?”

Yaga eyes his former students again, still verbally sparring. “How many times have you asked Gojo to formalize the severance pay for retired sorcerers?”

“Since before I even accepted his offer,” Nanami huffs, straightening his newspaper. “I made him promise to fulfill it during my interview.”

“And?” Yaga prods. “What’s the progress?”

It doesn’t take Nanami a beat to answer. “Nonexistent.”

Yaga chuckles, picking up a flask that was absolutely apple juice, ignoring Panda’s judging stare from across the room.

“Bring it up with Shoko,” he suggests. “She should know a thing or two from her experience interning in Sweden. Or better yet, wait for her to bring it up with Gojo.”

Nanami doesn’t look convinced. “Does she have that much admin pull?”

“Not with the admin,” Yaga looks on at Shoko dragging Megumi to the buffet table, handing him a plate that she starts unceremoniously piling with mountains of food. Gojo follows laboriously behind them, shoulders dejected and resigned.

Ah, Yaga thought, I thought so.

“But I think you'll find life has a way of working out in her favor no matter what happens.”

-

By the end of that week, Nanami walks into his office with a stack of papers neatly folded and labelled at his desk.

Tokyo Jujutsu Prefectural Highschool Severance Package Information Packet, the contents all formally printed and alphabetized. It even had a reference index and annotated tabs; such thoroughness and attention to detail he knows Gojo not only actively dislikes but also avoids. This is the work of someone with a more clinical routine, used to the feel and flow of paper and corporate bureaucracy.

And sure enough, when he flips through the proposal packet he devised, eyes glazing over the usual signatures—Yaga, Gagukanji, Utahime, etc.—stops short when he notes the signature next to Gojo’s under co-signee. 

Apparently all it took was Shoko barging into his office with a What’s this I hear about you not compensating retired sorcerers properly? for him to spring into action. But Nanami thinks amusedly, sinking further into his chair and remembering the instinctive way Gojo always buckled at even the slightest hint of discomfort from her, that it wasn’t so much as him acting out of principle; but maybe for something else entirely.

Something that went completely beyond it.

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Watching the Show Fanfic FMAB

@anastasian-dreamer suggested writing a big rambling post about the FMAB watches the future Au to get it off my chest and for me to offer people to send asks. You want a scene/me to explain how i’d handle something? Send it it!

 So how would this go?

First the background: 

First: Edward is a trans man. He's known from childhood. We dont have transphobia in Amestris or in this world. Envy is genderfluid and Father is literal shadows in a human form. Gender makes zero sense to them and they don't allow bigotry they'd be affected by.

 We’re going to give them testosterone but Ed isn't on it because 1) he doesn't want to take it while Al is in the armour (and that is a frequent discussion) and 2) he's not sure if he wants to. He's a fairly androgynous person and he is small chested. He’s one of the lucky assholes who have very light periods (Winry hates him for it) and its alright. He doesn't want to take it also because a part of him wants kids and he’s nervous it will lower his chances. He also knows adoption is still there so he is a bit torn. I honestly just want to explore this concept.

Second: this is also a soulmate AU. I'm thinking there are multiple types of soulmates: paternal/child, platonic, romantic and enemies. 

 Now, you're born with the paternal ones (and the parent gets their when the child is born) but the others happen later. You are five when you get your platonic and romantic; then you’re ten when you get the enemy one.

 Ed and Al are both born with a red salamander on their shoulders and the flamel Izumi has on her chest. I've read a few ‘your own mark is on your chest’ so we’re going with that. These marks tend to be something that can define you. Edward has the alchemy sign for human on his chest and Al has the helmet of his armour. 

 Hohenheim tries not to let it play on his mind. 

When they turn five, Edward gets a sword and the ouroboros on his arm, while Al gets a kunai. 

 The boys both get a silver gear which is Winry for platonic to. (how can they tell? Vibes. Literal vibes)

 When they're ten, Ed is so confused why they get more ouroboros marks. But he's busy with the transmutation. So big deal. We all know how that ends.

 But Ed also is surprised when he gets a mark when he’s eleven.

( “It kind of looks like the head of a long-haired dog?” 

 “It does. Weird.”)

Ling gets the sign for human and the ouroboros. As well he gains a silver blade for a friend (Lan Fan), the child mark of a long haired dog, and the enemy tattoos of ouroboros along with some family. (he also gains the panda friend mark of the heiress to the Chang family) 

 Greed has a sword and the sign for human, along with markings for all his Chimera buddies and the long haired dog for a child. 

Three: Roy starts off being very nervous about the kids. He sees Al and knows its his soul son. He would keep it quiet if he didn't know that his soulmate Maes would spill the beans. He tells the boys. Edward is so angry that of course it's his fuck up that defines his brother. 

 Roy and Ed keep the antagonism but it’s just their thing. They're like that. Al gets to have a cat that stays with Roy. 

 Also: three way bonds like Roy, Hughes and Gracia aren't uncommon. However due to the need for alchemists in the East Roy is based there. He has a house and makes trips bi weekly to see his soulmates. They also make trips bi weekly so they basically see each other each week.

Four: Various countries have different views on Soulmateds. Amestris believes that while there is a bond its a choice in the end. You don’t need to marry/befriend/whatever your bond is. While about 90% of the time it does happen, there's then 10% everyone knows. 

 Xing fully believes in them and soulmarks are a great honour. There's been a few times clans will join together as an heir will find their partner in another, making an iron clad bond. Soul children are precious and enemies are the utmost awfulness. 

Five: I’m tossing in a few OCs. One is named Amelia Cross. My original story for her is she is the brother’s elder sister from Hohenheim having a one night stand years ago. Theres a whole plot. But for here she's simply the Alchemist that helped make the soldiers into human chimeras before she quit the military. (and was let go because she did human transmutation)

 The other is Amelia’s soul daughter Elaine who is a chimera herself and Ishvalan. Its a whole thing. 

Lets go to the start.

 Now: I think this story would start right after Tucker makes Nina into a Chimera but before the boys see her. 

 And I kinda want to keep to my theme of ‘ah yes everyone sees it’ cause I can. How does this happen? Alchemy. A bunch of stones (some dropped by Hohenheim, some in the ground from Father) bonded together. An alchemist in the region was doing human transmutation to bring back their wife, the stones hijacked it (the alchemist lost their heart) and Truth went: you know why not. (does it make sense? No but I'm keeping it)

 So everyone in the world is watching now. And we don't start with the brothers.

 We start with Slave 23, speaking to the dwarf in the flask. We follow him as he walks to Xing, as he walks the world. We follow him to Trisha and the boys. We see him put pieces together and realize what happened to Xerxes will happen again. Of course we don't actually know YET. As far as anyone can tell he found signs of the Dwarf and went hunting.

 There's also the drama of Ling seeing the marks on Ed and Mei also seeing hers on Al. And like every other reaction to. (the Homunculi are fucking baffled that this kid somehow got a mark for one of them. Hohenheim is freaking out)

 We watch as he leaves. Then we cut to the boys fighting the Freezing Alchemist. 

Now 2003 FMA is really good at the build up so i'll probably borrow from them but I like the freezer beginning. So that's going on. And of course we learn Roy is the parental soulmate, and its all cute…

 And then we learn of the Taboo.

 I 100% think Bradley makes a bullshit claim he knew and decided since a CHILD was willing to join the military and all their trauma he let it slide. Its on the radio.

 Its all ‘aww poor little meow meows’ kind of stuff. Ed and Al hate it, go to Tucker and FUCK NINA?

 Course since Ed’s child mark is shown he claims its destiny. Ed kicks his ass, and then Nina gets to go to grandpa Roy’s place while Amelia gets contacted by one of the soldiers who is a chimera. 

 Which side note: when that happens on screen Ling is busy discussing how to murder Tucker with Lan Fan and Fu (and his clan cause that is their heir’s daughter) while Greed and the others are heading to kick some ass. 

But after the freezing alchemist we get more flashbacks to the boys in the first few years of military, and then so on.

Themes of the story: 

 -A theme there is the discussion of family. I really want the idea of family to play a huge part in this because Al and Ed’s story revolves around their relationship. So a lot of focus is on this. But also I would explore rejecting family. 

 Greed rejects his ‘siblings’. The boys reject Hohenheim because he isn't a bad person but he sure is a bad father (and yes he is. I saw one post defending it but lets be real, abandoning your family is abandoning them no matter what.) Ling rejects some of his siblings. 

 Family is important but it’s family of choice that matters. You can choose your family and many choose their blood family but they also reject it.

 -Romance is the next theme, and exploring what its like to have romantic soulmates. Like I really want some drama since Edward has been raised knowing he doesn't need to be with his romantics mixed with Greed ‘its all mine’ and Ling ‘destiny bound us’. Like they choose to be together of course but its a thing. 

 We have the themes of FMA though included.

Other notes:

 -I do know Ed keeps alchemy and both his automail parts. Not sure how but he does.

 -Mei throws herself into finding out how to free her soulmate. 

 -Mei and Xao Mei both arrive with Ling due to the alliance and that they are platonics.

 -I want to keep Ling being possessed but also I think Father actually is weirdly interested in the soul bond? I think his attempts at being perfect isn't just about like being a god but also being better then humans. And here is a being he's made having a soulmate. Two in fact. And a soul child! He's very invested. So he somehow has it that they can share the bond like they do in canon? I dunno. I'd need to work on it. 

 -Amelia is killed by Scar and it sparks a large subplot because her romantic is actually Kimblee. She visits him every year on his birthday and he's allowed out to her funeral where Elaine is. Amelia and Elaine had a falling out after some stuff but Elaine is pretty messed up. Elaine is also Kimblee’s soul child. Also Elaine is Winry’s romantic soulmate. Its a mess. 

 -I kinda think Ling having Ed as his soulmate puts him right at the top for heirs because ‘ah son of the Sage’ kind of thing mixed in with ‘the other soulmate is immortal’

 -Mrs. Bradley is actually in the know because Pride has her mark as a friend and Wrath couldn't lie to her. They never told Father until after the reveal of Greed’s soulmates but yeah she got told early on. She is subtly talking them away from the plans but it's slow going. (I kinda would want to set up Wrath in Greed’s place as a sacrifice)

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hii! Could you do Gojo + 65, please? But in a made me cry so much I’ll remember this for the next couple days way :)

There you go! This one took me quite a while and to be honest I'm not fully satisfied with how it turned out, but I really hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think 🖤

55. "I think I might be in love with you."

She is my weakness

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,7k

Synopsis: Even though Satoru never admitted his feelings towards you, everyone is aware of the fact that you are his weakness - a weakness that Suguru gladly uses in order to fullfill his mission. While you are on the brink of death, Satoru realizes just how much you really mean to him.

Warnings: language, hurt, death, injury

Gojo can’t catch his breath, the road to Jujutsu High suddenly feels so long. He got distracted, too distracted to notice that you aren’t there anymore. It wasn’t until someone informed him about the fact that you just disappeared, seconds later a message popping up on his phone.

Don’t worry, she’s with me. Maybe you should hurry up though.

You are a very skilled jujutsu sorcerer, an exceptional talent without special status. Satoru spent so many training sessions with you that he lost count, the only thing remaining in his memory being your mesmerizing smile.

“Why are you laughing? I’m absolutely serious, you almost got me!”

“Don’t be ridiculous Satoru, no need to pamper my feelings. Attack me instead!”

Fuck, how did he not notice that you’re gone? You’re always fighting by his side, trusting him blindly. He never allowed himself to lose track of you. Why today, when the name Suguru Geto is written on his display?

This doesn’t make any sense. It has to be a trap, Satoru just knows it. But still he’s on his way to Jujutsu High despite being urgently needed on the battlefront, hands slightly trembling. You are a great jujutsu sorcerer. But not good enough to face Suguru.

“Where is she?”, he yells, six eyes scanning the area around him in order to catch a glimpse of you or Suguru.

“Satoru, long time no see!”

“Where. Is. She.”, Gojo hisses through gritted teeth, blindfold ripped from his fury eyes.

“Woah, easy Satoru. Did you really just leave everyone else alone in order to save your little girlfriend from getting killed? That doesn’t look like you at all.”

“I make the world my enemy if it means saving her.”

You aren’t his girlfriend, the two of you never spoke about having a serious relationship with each other. He held you in his arms when you weren’t able to sleep, hands always brushing against each other when walking side by side, the two of you exchanging secret glances at each other all the time.

There’s no point in hiding it from himself any longer. Satoru is hopelessly in love with you since he first laid eyes on you and heard your angelic laugh. And the fact that Suguru put his dirty hands on you kills him from the inside.

“How touching. Too bad that she’s already dead. I have to say she fought very brave, tried to save your puny students from getting killed only to get stabbed herself. How self-sacrificing, how heroic.”

The world around Satoru collapses. You, dead? No, that’s not possible. Not even Suguru would dare to kill a skilled jujutsu sorcerer like yourself.

“Well, maybe she isn’t exactly dead already. I give you two options: Fight against me or save her. It’s up to you. See ya!”

And with that, he’s gone in the wind.

“Maki, Toge, Panda, Yuta, get out of the way. I’ll handle this.”

The confidence and rage in your voice had your students step aside immediately. You should have known that Suguru is here for Yuta, you should have realized it way sooner. There was no time or chance to inform Satoru about it. You gripped your katana tightly, eyes glistered in determination. You aren’t dumb, it is crystal clear that you aren’t able to defeat Suguru. But it is your job to defend your students, especially Yuta.

“Come on little (y/n), being Satoru’s girlfriend doesn’t make you the strongest. It doesn’t work like that. Both you and I know that this ends in blood.”

“I don’t need to be the strongest in order to distract you until he gets here.”

You fought back, over and over your blade crushed into another curse, you didn’t even stop when blood clouded your vision, whole body on fire from the countless wounds he has inflicted on you.

Is this really how you are supposed to die? Pictures of Satoru flooded your mind. You should have told him how you feel, that he makes your days better and your smile brighter. You noticed your feelings a long time ago, too afraid to lose a good friend by confessing. Now your words will forever be unsaid, he will never know how you truly felt. Your lips begin to tremble, eyes filling with tears.

“I’m sorry Satoru”, you whisper to yourself.

One last hit. A scorching pain. Then everything went black.

Satoru is aware of the fact that Suguru wants Yuta and nothing else, that you and the others have to be alive. Yuta can stand his ground until he has brought you to Shoko, back into safety. You simply can’t die without knowing about his true feelings, without knowing that you are way more than a simple friend to him and that he wants nothing more than to be by your side. If there’s a slight chance to safe you he’ll take it, fuck everything else. But firstly, he needs to find you and his students.

Maki’s and Toge’s bodies are plastered on the ground, seriously injured but alive – nothing that Shoko can’t fix. Sounds of battle begin to penetrate Gojo’s ears. So Yuta is still fit enough to stand against Suguru, huh? What an impressive kid.

His heart drops immediately when catching a glimpse of your body on the other side though. God, you are so covered in crimson that the color of your uniform is almost unrecognizable. Limb over limb, as if you just fell to the ground. Lifeless, drained, on the brink of death.

Satoru sprints towards you, ice cold sweat dripping down his face. He presses his fingers against your neck, praying to god that your heart is still beating, that there is a slight chance of you being saved by Shoko.

He has never seen you like this. Of course you were injured in missions from time to time, but the worst wound you ever had was a laceration on your forehead. No wonder, your fighting technique is very advanced after all, you spent so many hours training your ass off. But still…But still you are laying to his feet, Satoru’s shaky hands covered in your blood.

This simply can’t be true. He could never understand how Suguru could go down this path, Gojo’s last straw of his dignity being that he’d never hurt a jujutsu sorcerer or member of Jujutsu High. Why are you laying here, heartbeat almost gone and breath nothing more than a light breeze in the wind?

“Fuck!”, he yells, fists slamming into the hard ground until blood spills.

You can’t die like that, not after all the two of you have been through, not until he was able to at least tell you about his feelings.

“You might be the honored one, that doesn’t change the fact that pizza is better than burgers though. So sorry to break it to you, Satoru.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, (y/n)! Are you brainwashed? Maybe I should call Shoko, let me check!”

Your heartfelt laughter echoes through the room and Gojo’s core, hands halfheartedly fighting off his tickle attack. You are so beautiful when you shake in laughter, eyes squeezed tight until tears of joy spill out of them, your soft hands sending shivers down his spine.

“S-Satoru, please stop!”, you cry out and surrender in his arms.

Out of instinct you lay your head against his chest and close your eyes for a sweet moment. Oh, how delicious he smells, how much you love to be held like this. Your heart almost beats out of your chest when Satoru wraps his arms around you, pressing you even closer to his beating heart.

The words are hanging on his lips, it would be so easy to just tell you that he loves every little thing about you. Why does his mouth suddenly feel so fuzzy, why is all he can do stare at you in awe? Fuck, you are so lovely, he doesn’t deserve you.

“(y/n) I-… I think I might be in love with you!”, he blurts out, fists clinging onto your soaked uniform, tears glistering in his bright orbs.

If you will even survive the way to Shoko? He has to try. After all, he is the honored one. If he isn’t able to save you then no one will be? Fuck Suguru, fuck this whole useless battle. He can’t lose you today.

As gentle as possible, he picks you up in his arms, your lifeless head propped against his chest. Why does your body feel so cold? Why does the blood not stop running? Fright swallows Gojo completely, the thought of losing you getting realer and realer. Why were you here anyway? Maybe all of his student would have died if you weren’t so damn brave. You must have found out that Suguru is here. Fuck, why are you always caring about others and sacrifice yourself like that? Why didn’t you call him?

His hand caresses your face softly, tears now completely taking his sight. Because this is you, because this is exactly why he loves you so damn much.

It doesn’t take him long to get to Shoko, but it still feels like an eternity.

“Shoko, please help her!”, he yells over the constant conversations, voice completely immersed in pure horror.

Oh no, not you. Shoko pales in an instant when taking in your sight. This doesn’t look good, to be exact it looks absolutely terrible.

Satoru’s trembling arms lay you down on a makeshift sickbed, Shoko immediately by your side.

“How the hell did this happen? (y/n) is the only one apart from you that never gets hurt”, she comments while inspecting your multiple severe wounds.

“Suguru invaded Jujutsu High unnoticed despite the curtain. She must have found out. My students are there, (y/n) saved their asses from getting killed”, he explains briefly, gaze completely fixated on you and the way your chest dimly rises and falls.

“I’m gonna be honest to you, this looks totally awful. She is barely breathing and her heartbeat is way too weak. I’m trying my best but maybe…Maybe you should stay here with her, Satoru.”

It’s like the world around him is collapsing when Shoko’s words confirm his worst nightmares. You could die, right here right now. And you would die without knowing how much you really mean to him, that you are way more than just a colleague or a friend to him.

“I never told her”, he mutters, hands clinging onto yours for dear life.

“You don’t have to. Some things don’t need to be said.”

As if in trance, Gojo follows the movements of Shoko’s hands that are busy trying to save your life.

“What about the others?”

“Maki, Panda and Toge are injured but alive. Yuta is facing Suguru at the moment.

“Do you think he can handle this?”

“Sure, I’ll go back as soon as soon as (y/n) is out of danger.”

So there he sits. Seconds, minutes and hours passing by as all he can do is stare at you and watch Shoko stitching you up. You look like you’re sleeping peacefully, ready to get shaken awake by Satoru. He can’t help but stare and take in your striking features. Your face isn’t cute by any means. No, you are attractive in a more dangerous way, a woman that turns heads on the streets no matter what she wears. A woman that wraps men around her finger with one little glance. A woman that knows what she wants and how she gets it. You are treacherous and unattainable. There’s no greater feeling than seeing other men contort themselves after you as it is him that walks beside you, his arm wrapped around your shoulder.

“You know that I can take care of men myself, do you?”

“Sure, but I just can’t resist.”

Little did you know that he dies to hold you in his arms and show everyone that you are his, that none of these douchebags will ever touch you like he does. Oh, how much he enjoys your attention on him, if he could he would spend every second of the day with you.

“Good morning sunshine, the earth says hello!”

“Satoru, why do you have to wake me up this early? And even more important: How did you get in my room?”, you groaned, still a slight grin plastered on your face.

“Nothing easier than breaking in here! Did you forget we have a rendez-vous today, sleepyhead?”

“Yeah, for training. In 3 hours”, you reply dryly.

“Oh, must’ve forgotten about that.”

“Or maybe you just wanted to see me”, you teased him, your very own heart beating out of your chest while waiting for his reply.

“Can’t say anything against that”, he admits.

Now he can’t wake you up this easily. You’re still not moving, eyes staying rested at all times.

“Ironic, isn’t it? That I’m the strongest but couldn’t prevent her from getting this beaten up”, he mutters, drunken gaze never leaving you.

“Every power has its limits. Suguru just seemed to have a good plan on hand and knew that she’ll come as soon as the students are in danger. That’s just how (y/n) is. You cannot influence that”, Shoko replies, her skilled fingers completely occupied by working their ways through your countless wounds.

“It’s all my fault. Suguru knew she is my weakness and that I won’t come after him when her life is in danger.”

“Stop talking shit, if she could hear you she’d probably punch you in the face for that. (y/n) isn’t helped by doubting yourself.”

Satoru buries his face in his hands, tears swelling up his eyes once more. None of this should have happened. You should have called and told him about it. You should have told him that you are in danger. Why do you have to be so suborn, so fucking brave, probably saving his students from death while risking your own life? God, he hates you for this. But also…this is exactly why he adores you so much. No, why he loves you so much. Why do you have to be on the brink of death for him to realize that you are so much more than just a friend to him?

“Satoru?”

His name. His name came out of your mouth. Satoru’s heart feels like a jackhammer inside his chest, shaky fingers intertwining with yours. God, you opened your eyes, you talked. You…you are alive.

“(y/n)”, he breathes out.

“Suguru is at Jujutsu High.”

Your voice isn’t more than a fade whisper, eyelids hanging heavy in your blood-smeared face.

“I know, darling. I picked you up from there. If you scare me like that again I’ll kill you”, Satoru jokes with tears glistering in his eyes, smiling over your concern about the others even though you almost died yourself.

“Satoru…I-I love you. Couldn’t die without telling you that.”

His hand tenderly strokes your bruised cheek, relief filling his whole body, absolutely enchanted by your sweet words. You love him. You, (y/n) really love him. Is he dreaming? Can this really be true? For years, all he could think about was you, you are the only woman that turns his head. And now you’re telling him that you are in love with him?

“Let me hear that again.”

“I won’t say it again until you say it back”, you reply, smiling widely.

“I love you too, (y/n). Was just too dumb to realize I guess.”

“Listen, I don’t want to interrupt your moment here, but (y/n) needs to rest and you need to look after Yuta", intervenes, still occupied by treating your wounds.

“Did you leave your students alone with Suguru?”, you ask in shock.

“Hehe, you need to rest now.”

And with that you watch as the man you love more than the entire earth disappears with one last look in your eyes. He saved your life that day. But not only that, after all these years he is finally yours. Maybe almost dying wasn’t so bad after all.