#also this part ‘I hate you!!!’ ‘...I hate me too���

[bbcphile]

This FB post by Rebecca Solnit is the thing keeping me sane this morning,so I’m sharing it here in case it helps you all, too:

“They want you to feel powerless and to surrender and to let them trample everything and you are not going to let them. You are not giving up, and neither am I. The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving. You may need to grieve or scream or take time off, but you have a role no matter what, and right now good friends and good principles are worth gathering in. Remember what you love. Remember what loves you. Remember in this tide of hate what love is. The pain you feel is because of what you love.

The Wobblies used to say don't mourn, organize, but you can do both at once and you don't have to organize right away in this moment of furious mourning. You can be heartbroken or furious or both at once; you can scream in your car or on a cliff; you can also get up tomorrow and water the flowerpots and call someone who's upset and check your equipment for going onward.

A lot of us are going to come under direct attack, and a lot of us are going to resist by building solidarity and sanctuary. Gather up your resources, the metaphysical ones that are heart and soul and care, as well as the practical ones.

People kept the faith in the dictatorships of South America in the 1970s and 1980s, in the East Bloc countries and the USSR, women are protesting right now in Iran and people there are writing poetry. There is no alternative to persevering, and that does not require you to feel good. You can keep walking whether it's sunny or raining. Take care of yourself and remember that taking care of something else is an important part of taking care of yourself, because you are interwoven with the ten trillion things in this single garment of destiny that has been stained and torn, but is still being woven and mended and washed.”

[colormepurplex2]

Golden Cufflinks | JJK

▻ Golden Cufflinks ↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ Best Friend's Fiance, Strangers to True Mates ⤜ A/B/O AU | angst, smut, fluff ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 11,742 ⤜ Summary: You’ve never given much thought to finding your true mate, firmly believing it’s something that will happen when it happens. But, when you do find him—thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks—it very well could ruin everything. They say not all’s fair in love and war; you just hadn’t expected your best friend’s wedding to be the battleground. ⚠️ Crass language, talk of designation hierarchy, mild talk of misogynistic practices of the past, confessions of cheating(not by main pairing), anger/arguments, kissing, dick sucking, mild cum intrigue, maybe mild breeding kink if you squint, unprotected v. sex, knotting, lots of slick and cum

Written for @hisunshiine as part of the 2nd Quarter 2023 @bangtanwritershq Awards Season! A/N: Congratualtions, Vanessa. You deserve all the kudos for a job well done during the 2nd Quarter 2023, I hope you enjoy the story!

A special thank you to @downbad4yoongi, @lo1k-diamonds, @moonleeai for the amazing beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Nerves flutter in your belly as you gather your belongings from the plastic bin at the end of the rolling conveyor belt on the other side of security. As you walk away, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you have to juggle your purse and jacket to retrieve it.

You feel bad for making Hayun, your best friend for as long as you can remember, wait for a response, but you desperately just want to find your gate and have a seat first. Once you find it and settle in at a chair by the big windows looking out on the tarmac, you thumb to her contact.

“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d probably hate you right now for making me wait so long for a response,” Hayun sasses before her voice softens, “Hello, I love you.”

“Love you, too, girl,” you say, unable to help the smile that tilts your lips up. “Sorry, I’ve been MIA for the last few hours. Things have been hectic. I misplaced my passport this morning, but I finally found it under the bed and then missed the hotel shuttle. I had to call a rideshare, but of course, it took them forever to get through airport traffic, and ugh…” you trail off with a sigh. “I’m sitting down for the first time since I woke up this morning.”

Which was approximately four hours ago at this point. Your flight is set to take off less than an hour from now, so you imagine boarding might start soon. You’re not exaggerating when you say it’s been hectic. It was bad enough waking up at 3 AM, but you’re a chronic planner and stickler for time, so missing your flight was the absolute last thing you wanted to happen.

“Oh, babe, that sucks. I’m glad it’s all worked out, though. I really can’t wait to see you!”

The conversation passes quickly, easing your heart and mind as you catch up on the last twenty-four hours. You haven’t seen Hayun in a handful of years. Her career took her to the other side of the world, and yours kept you where you both grew up. The last time you saw her was through a haze of tears at this very airport when she boarded a plane destined for Seoul, South Korea, where she was adopted from at just two years old.

Visiting each other was always something you both talked about. But, as with most things, life just happens, and eventually, you find yourself making that visit you always talked about for reasons you never considered before—like your best friend tying the knot with a guy you’ve never met.

Sure, you’ve seen pictures of him and have heard him talk in the background of most of the phone calls you’ve exchanged with Hayun over the last few years. But, it was never on your friendship bingo card that the next time you’d find yourself seeing your best friend, it would be her at her wedding.

“I gotta go. They’re about to start boarding.”

“I’ll see you when you land. Can’t wait!”

Hayun disconnects the call, and you gather your belongings to prepare to line up in the boarding queue. It will be a long flight, but seeing Hayun again after so long apart will be worth it.

You fiddle with the bracelet on your left wrist, twisting and pinching at the silver moon charm dangling from the thin chain. Hayun has a matching one. They were presents from your parents on the day you were both recognized with your designations; she was thirteen, and you were fifteen.

The dynamics of Alphas and Omegas have long since changed from what it once was. Legend has it that once upon a time, an Alpha and an Omega were closer to their wolf-kin than how the world is now. Thanks to evolution and science, the only things remaining from that time are the more basic bodily functions—scents, knots, and slick, to sum it up.

The crescent charm on your wrist symbolizes your designation—Omega. But being an Omega doesn’t hold much meaning for you. You don’t feel all that special, and it’s not like you’re rare or any more or less capable than the next person. As it stands, you can see at least a dozen other moons jangling from bracelets, waiting to board the same plane you are.

There are also necklaces, tattoos, and other ways to display a designation scattered around the waiting area. The how of it is mostly regional, sometimes generational. The Beta standing behind you in the queue has a teardrop earring dangling from their left ear, and if it weren’t for the pheromone blockers you took this morning, you might be able to smell their unique scent.

You also have your own smell, a scent that is just you. You’ve been told it’s a sweet, citrusy bouquet like lemonade on a hot summer afternoon. However, also thanks to the blockers, it remains suppressed to the point someone would have to make you bleed or press their nose so firmly against your throat it hurts to smell it.

There really is only one thing that a lot of people are envious of when it comes to an Omega’s designation, and that is that they supposedly have an Alpha true mate out there somewhere that will call to their baser nature. It’s such a rare phenomenon these days that it might as well be part of the legends of old, too.

The bottom line is that no one cares about subgenders anymore; it doesn't matter whether your charm is the Omega crescent, the teardrop of a Beta, or the triskelion denoting an Alpha. In fact, you’re pretty sure you could ask the Beta for their earring and offer them your charm bracelet and no one would bat an eye over it.

Though you’d never do that, considering the chain around your wrist isn’t technically yours. The night after you presented as Omega, when you snuck away with Hayun to lay on a blanket under the stars and moon that was so like the charm hanging from your twin bracelets, you giggled as you exchanged them. Her tiny fingers trembled against your wrist as she secured her silver chain around it. You did the same with your own around hers a second later.

It was that night that you both swore always to be friends. No matter what happened in life or where either of you ended up, you would always remain true to one another. So far, your friendship has been unfailing, a constant thread of comfort and light for you both. No matter how long it’s been, the charm still smells faintly of your best friend—a perk of the charms themselves, holding a token essence of their owners. Hers holds a soft lilac and jasmine scent that you’ve always thought complimented your own citrus notes.

The flight attendant scanning boarding passes beckoning you forward breaks you out of your internal reflections. With a full heart and giddy anticipation curling in your belly, you find your seat and settle in.

It’s a long flight, longer than most flights you’ve taken. But when you finally walk off the plane, make it through customs and immigration, and finally empty into the arrivals terminal of the Incheon Airport, you feel immediate relief, and the hours spent in the air don’t seem so bad.

“Hey, over here!” a familiar voice calls out, catching your attention.

You spin on your heel, confusion setting in for just a moment before it’s replaced by another wave of relief and a little of something warmer. Taehyung, Hayun’s adopted brother, swamps you in a giant bear hug that quite literally sweeps you off of your feet.

“Wow, hey. This is a surprise. What are you doing here? Where’s Hayun?”

Taehyung scrunches up his face, letting out a small scoff. “It’s a good surprise, I hope. Something came up, and she had to meet with the wedding planner and caterer at the last minute. She called me and asked if I could pick you up.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah,” you confirm with a smile. “Good surprise.”

It’s no secret that you’ve always been fond of Taehyung. As a baby, you were toddling around with him long before his family adopted Hayun. She ended up being the sister you never knew you needed, even if you were a few years older.

When she moved to Seoul for work, Taehyung ended up being the physical representation that took her place. He flew out a week before you to help her with planning and will stay for a few weeks after you’ve already headed back home. They may have had their differences over the years, but their sibling bond is stronger than petty arguments and rivalries.

“Ready to get on the road? It’s a long drive.”

Hours later, with the rolling countryside and farms dotting the horizon, you discover the fiasco inside your backpack. The bottle of pheromone blockers you packed this morning somehow got shuffled to the bottom of your bag and popped open. The once-powder-filled capsules litter the bottom of your bag, broken open. Pale blue powder coats your things, the mild flower smell of the medicine lingering in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you groan. “Any chance there’s a clinic somewhere between here and where we’re going?”

“Unfortunately, no.” He frowns, drumming his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, making the triskelion signet ring on his index finger glitter in the mid-day sun. “We’d probably have to turn around and head nearly three hours back to get anywhere near a clinic with blockers. I'm told most people don’t use them anymore these days here. Maybe another one of the wedding party might have some you could borrow if you really need them. But, honestly, I don’t see anyone minding if you don’t use them.”

“Most people here don’t use them anymore?”

“Well, yeah, with the progression of equality and things like that. They’re so great here, way more progressive than back home. It’s very common for Omegas to go off of blockers or never even begin them. Laws have been implemented to punish Alphas who can’t control themselves. The responsibility of remaining safe shouldn’t be solely set on the shoulders of the Omega population.”

Talk like that has only recently become popular back home. You’ve heard the speeches and followed the media and the sources, but you suppose after nearly half of your life taking blockers, it just comes naturally to continue to do so.

“Hm, yeah, okay. I guess it’s no big deal, really. As long as you’re sure people won’t mind?”

Taehyung sniffs the air, his nose twitching. “I think you smell great, but just in case not everyone does, if someone says something, then I’ll personally drive all the way back to the city and pick you up some,” Taehyung promises, giving you one of his swoon-worthy smiles.

The crush you once upon a time had on Taehyung threatens to spark anew at the sight of his charming, boxy grin—a grin you would have once done anything to pull from him. But now, it just fills you with warmth and a homey comfort.

You give him a smile of your own. “Deal.”

“Hayun!”

Her squeal of delight when she turns around and catches sight of you echoes through the open space of the dimly lit bar of the bed and breakfast where the wedding is taking place.

It’s a cozy space with rich dark wood accents and royal blue velvet upholstery. Brass gas lamps and light fixtures give the entire lounge an upscale and chic atmosphere that you know is right up Hayun’s alley.

The few hours you had between checking in at the bed and breakfast and meeting Hayun for her very small—just you and one other person—bachelorette party were spent familiarizing yourself with the grounds.

The ceremony will take place in one of the lavish gardens, and the reception will follow in one of the grand dining halls. For a bed and breakfast, it’s far fancier than any you’ve ever been to. It definitely does not have the mom-and-pop feel that you typically associate with the term ‘B&B’.

“You’re here!” she shrills, throwing her arms around your neck.

Her petite form fits just like it always has against yours. Thick black hair, shorter than the last time you saw it, curls around the rounded lines of her cheeks, and her brown eyes are bright and glisten with happy tears. With her bubbly personality and small, wispy frame, she's always reminded you of a fairy.

You sigh, taking a deep breath and savoring your best friend's soft, floral scent. Thanks to the bracelet tinkling around her wrist, it holds the smallest undercurrent of your sweet citrus. Clearly, she’s not taking blockers; the scents are heavy and delightful. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Hayun sucks in a deep breath that mirrors yours. “Wow, babe, you smell good! Finally gone off the blockers, huh?”

“Uh, kind of,” you chuckle, untangling yourself from her arms. “I brought some, but they broke open in my bag at some point.” You shrug. “Tae said it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s not. Absolutely not,” Hayun agrees, grinning broadly. “I’ve been off them for years and haven’t had a single issue. Come on, let’s have a drink and catch up!”

You settle in at a table, and it’s not long before Eunseo, Hayun’s other guest, joins you. You’ve heard a lot about Eunseo. Much the same way Taehyung took the place of Hayun for you, Eunseo took your place for Hayun. You half expect to feel some sort of friendship jealousy upon meeting Eunseo for the first time, but it doesn’t come. If anything, you’re immediately fond of the young woman.

The evening carries on, Hayun and Eunseo regaling you with tales from working together and their various adventures around Seoul. Eunseo shows genuine interest in your life back home, seeming eager to hear stories of Hayun’s childhood. She shows a particular interest in Taehyung, asking you in no certain terms more than you think is appropriate to share.

“But you’ve seen it, right?” Eunseo asks. Her elbows rest on the table, and her chin is nestled on her clasped hands, her eyes wide and glassy from the countless glasses of wine she’s had. “I bet it’s huge. Am I right?”

“Ugh,” Hayun groans. “Can we not talk about my brother’s dick. Please.” She makes a gagging sound before slurping down the rest of her cocktail and flagging down a passing waiter for another.

You try to wave off the waiter, but he’s turned toward the bar before you can get his attention. If Hayun has much more to drink, you’re not sure she’ll be able to walk down the aisle tomorrow unassisted.

“I’m just curious. It’s a harmless question,” Eunseo pouts. “Ignore her. Tell me. I just have to know.”

You swirl the straw around in your glass of water before giving Eunseo what you hope is a conspiratorial look. “Well—”

“What?! Ew. Are you really about to answer her? Please, dear god, do not tell me you have seen my brother’s penis. If you’ve seen it—fuck, I might actually puke.”

As much as you probably shouldn’t, you laugh, which earns further protests and obscene noises from Hayun.

“Before you interrupted me, I was going to say that maybe Eunseo should ask him herself.”

Hayun howls a protest, sloshing her new cocktail onto the table as she gesticulates a crude hand gesture in your direction. “Do not. I repeat, do not do that, Eunseo!”

The conversation peters off, Hayun losing herself in another cocktail while Eunseo stares dreamily up at the ceiling.

“I think—hiccup—it's bedtime,” Eunseo slurs.

As if right on cue, a familiar face peeks through the entrance to the lounge. You wave Taehyung down, and he comes jogging across the space to your table. His shirt is rumpled with the top few buttons undone, but his eyes are clear, and you know he’ll be a perfect gentleman.

“Are you sure?” you ask him, pitching your voice low.

“I got this, don’t worry. We finished up a few hours ago anyway.”

Taehyung gives you a warm, private smile before turning to Eunseo. “Hey there, beautiful. Let’s get you on to bed, okay?”

“Where’s my savior?” Hayun asks, frowning after her brother escorting Eunseo from the lounge and back through the front lobby.

“Right here,” you tell her, sliding out of your chair and coming around to her side of the table. “Come on, let’s go.”

It takes you more than twice as long as it usually would to get to Hayun’s room. She leans against the wall in the hall as you dig through her pockets in search of her room key. Once you find it tucked between a few stray bills and her ID, you usher her into the room and deposit her onto the bed.

Her fiance has a room on the other side of the grounds, but after the ceremony, they will both be moving into one of the couple’s suites for the night before jet-setting off to Jeju Island for their week-long honeymoon.

“Am I doing the right thing?”

Hayun’s question catches you off guard. You throw a confused look at her over your shoulder as you rummage through her suitcase in search of something for her to sleep in.

“What?”

She sighs as she rolls over, letting her head hang off the edge of the bed so she can look at you upside down. “Marrying Jungkook. It’s a mistake…so why am I doing it?”

“Hayun…what are you talking about? Jungkook is perfect for you. You guys have been dating for five years, and you told me you’ve never been happier. Where’s the mistake in that?”

The sound Hayun makes is akin to something a wounded animal might make. She flops, flailing her arms and legs like a child throwing a fit.

“That’s the thing, though! I’m happy, but I don’t love him. Oh god,” she cries. “I don’t love him.”

“Hey, hey now.” You abandon the search for sleeping clothes and crawl across the floor until you’re kneeling beside the bed. Smoothing your hand across her forehead, you ask, “Where is all this coming from?”

“He thinks I’m his true mate,” she whispers. The tears leaking from her eyes slide up her face, wetting the edges of her eyebrows before sliding over her forehead and disappearing into her hair. “But I know he’s not mine.”

“Wh—wait, what?” You push up from the floor and move onto the bed, gathering your best friend’s head into your lap so she’s no longer hanging upside down off the side of the bed.

She hiccups a sob, lips trembling as she explains, “He says I’m his true mate, that he knows because of my scent. But he doesn’t smell special to me…how is that possible?”

“Hayun, I don’t—”

“I cheated on him,” she whimpers in confession, cutting off what were going to be your soothing words of affirmation. They sour on your tongue, refusing to be released now.

Your stomach churns at her admittance. “You what?”

“You have every right to judge me. I’m a terrible person. But, when he told me I was his true mate…I panicked. I had to be sure I wasn’t broken, that me not finding his scent special wasn’t just something wrong with me.” Hayun blinks rapidly, trying to clear the tears as they begin to come in earnest. She clutches at the front of her shirt, hand fisting over her heart. “So, I slept with two Alphas that I work with to see if it was any different. I had to be sure. I had to know.”

“Hayun, I-I-I don’t…I’m not—”

“I’m such a fucking mess,” she sobs, curling in on you and pressing her face against your stomach. “I don’t deserve him. I only said yes to marrying him because I don’t want to be alone forever. I can’t be like you. I need someone.”

Her words sting, causing you to flinch involuntarily. You watch as she falls apart in your lap, ultimately giving in to her grief. It’s on the tip of your tongue to call her out on her childish behavior, to set the record straight about your own love life, and to leave her to her wallowing. But…the shaking of her shoulders and soft whines from her remind you so much of a younger and more fragile Hayun—the Hayun of your shared childhoods.

“Shh, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” No matter how you might feel about her actions and the hurtful words she’s spilled, you hate to see your best friend so distraught and broken. “Hey, look at me.”

You wait until her watery eyes peel away from your shirt and meet yours. “Tell me you hate me; it’s okay.”

“Hayun, I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. You made…a mistake, that’s all. You were trying to figure things out. But…Hayun, you…you have to tell him.”

She frowns up at you, her expression sobering. “Tell him?”

“He’s about to marry you, Hayun. That’s a big freaking deal…you have to tell him tomorrow morning before anything else happens.”

The laugh that bubbles from her lips is anything but humorous. “I-I can’t do that! He’ll hate me. He’ll call the wedding off!” She shoves out of your lap and stares at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“If Jungkook truly loves you and says you’re his true mate, I don’t see that happening. But, he deserves to know. You have to know that. Either you tell him now, or he finds out years from now, and then it’ll be so much worse,” you try to reason with her.

“He doesn’t have to know!” she whisper-yells, her tears turning from sad to angry in an instant.

You shake your head, unable to believe what you’re hearing from her. “This isn’t right, Hayun. You can’t go into a marriage with someone with secrets like that!”

“It’s not like it’ll happen again. I’m not going to cheat on him while we’re married. Please,” she begs, her face once more softening into saddened anguish. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“He deserves to know, Hayun,” you whisper, remembering your own keen sting of betrayal from many years ago. There is a reason you don’t date much. “You say it won’t happen again?” you ask, trying to buy yourself some time to process everything Hayun just told you.

Her silence is deafening, and you think she’s about to not answer you the way you hope, but, finally, she murmurs, “No. Never. I swear it.”

“Okay. Okay, good. But, he still needs to know.”

Just because you’ve never actually met Jungkook, it doesn’t mean you don’t care for him. He’s the one who puts a smile on Hayun’s face when you can’t. He’s the reason she’s as happy as she is…or has been? Now, you’re not so sure. But, what you are certain about is that Hayun is far too drunk right now to know up from down and is just having a moment of raw vulnerability.

“Are you going to tell him?” she asks, voice a hoarse whisper.

You chew your bottom lip for a moment before slowly shaking your head. Thinking about it, even if you didn’t care for Jungkook, he still deserves to know on pure principle. “No. I won’t tell him.” She lets out a soft sigh of relief, which has you tacking on, “Because it’s not my place to tell him, it’s yours.”

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “Okay.” She doesn’t say anything more beyond that, falling into a listless stupor, all of her energy sapped from the quick argument and endless cocktails from the bar.

After you wrestle her out of her clothes and put on a long nightgown, she tucks easily into bed. You leave a glass of water on the bedside table for her, then exit the room and head to your own.

A pang of uncertainty refuses to quell in the pit of your stomach. You toss and turn most of the night, falling into a fitful sleep just before the sun begins to kiss the horizon. It’s going to be a long day…a battle of wills you never saw coming.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook

Today is the big day, and Jungkook couldn’t be happier. Nothing could possibly bring him down from the high he’s feeling. Not even the fact that he is unable to find the cufflinks that were passed down to him by his father.

“Did you check the pockets of all your pants?” Jimin, Jungkook’s best friend, asks from where he’s lounging in one of the chairs on the other side of Jungkook’s hotel room.

“Yes,” he mutters, dumping his entire suitcase onto the bed to rifle through it once again. “I remember putting them with the pile of Hayun’s—oh fuck.”

“That’s great,” Taehyung sighs. “So my sister probably has them.” He checks his watch. “We don’t really have time to go on a scavenger hunt through her room. Jimin and I are supposed to meet the photographer to get started on some of the bride and groomsmen shots.”

Jungkook purses his lips and rakes his hands through his hair as he thinks of a solution. “I’d go look myself, but what if I run into Hayun between here and there? She specifically requested that we not see each other until the ceremony.”

Taehyung hums lightly. “I think I have an idea. The other girls don’t meet for pictures until after we’re done. So…yeah…okay…done,” he murmurs, tapping away at his phone screen. “If they’re in Hayun’s things, they’ll be delivered to you soon.”

“Thanks, Taehyung, you’re a lifesaver.”

Minutes later, Jungkook finds himself alone, Taehyung and Jimin having gone to meet with the photographer. Somewhere out there, beyond the confines of his room, his fiancee is probably smiling and laughing as she poses in front of the camera. If only Jungkook could see through walls. He’d give anything for even just a little glimpse of his bride-to-be.

When Jungkook first met Hayun almost six years ago, he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to track her scent. The meeting he was heading for was instantly forgotten, replaced by a visceral need to discover the source of that titillating aroma that had his hindbrain firing on all cylinders.

Never before had Jungkook experienced something so…primal. It was both alarming and utterly fascinating. Amongst the harsh scents of car exhaust and the warm notes of roasted coffee, Jungkook wove his way through the crowd on the sidewalk to the doors of a little cafe; Hayun was inside, ordering a matcha tea to-go, and the rest was history.

Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to stop daydreaming and fiddling with his shirt's empty cuffs and focus on putting together the rest of his suit.

The scent hits Jungkook a moment before the sound of a soft knock reaches his ears. He’s standing in the ensuite bathroom, mid-skin care routine. Wiping his wet fingers off onto a towel, he draws in a deep breath to confirm the aroma wafting to him from beyond the door of his room.

A roguish smirk quirks up one side of his mouth as he exits the bathroom and moves across the room. Unable to help himself, he opens the door. “Hayun,” he chuckles, fingers wrapping around the doorknob, “I thought we agreed that you…you are not Hayun.” The words tumble from his suddenly numb lips, rasping past his too-dry tongue.

“Umm, no. Not Hayun, sorry. You’re Jungkook?”

The woman standing before him is clearly not his fiancee. The woman’s purple gown is familiar, Jungkook knowing it’s what Hayun chose for her attending party. You’re a friend of Hayun, clearly, yet you smell exactly like Hayun…if Hayun smelled like Hayun times a thousand. The fragrance slams into his olfactory system, and the edges of his vision grow blurry a moment before he shakes his head and steadies himself with a hand on the doorjamb.

“Yeah,” he whispers, voice raspy with his suddenly dry throat. Revelations pounding him right between the eyes, washing through his body and keying right into his most basic of instincts.

Jungkook watches as your nostrils flare, and he knows it’s in that moment that you register his cedar and lavadin scent; the scent that marks him for what—who—he is.

“Jungkook,” you repeat his name, and he wants to howl with delight at how it sounds coming from your lips. “No. You can’t…it’s not—” your voice cuts off a second before you drop the small, black leather box you were holding and turn, disappearing in a flash of violet tulle and silk.

🥀🥀🥀

“Stop! Wait, please!” The shout of your name follows you down the hall, but you’re too focused on getting as far away from him and the feelings threatening to overwhelm you as you can.

“No, no, no,” you chant under your breath as you move as swiftly as the slippered feet will allow you to go without tripping yourself up.

It’s clearly not fast enough. It only takes a few frantic beats of your heart before a firm grip on your elbow draws you to a stumbling halt. The touch is electric, and your skin flushes with goosebumps at the heated contact.

“Don’t run,” Jungkook pants. “Please.”

You wretch your arm from his grip and whirl on him, a sharp remark ready on the tip of your tongue. Only, it dies there, never to be uttered, as your heart thumps violently in response to the look on his face—pure anguish.

Your voice is thread-thin as you finally manage to get words out, “This can’t be happening.”

Jungkook’s brow twitches, his lips tucked between his teeth. His emotions are stark on his face, and the conflict is raw and bare to you. Clearly, he’s warring the same as you, maybe even more so.

“Why do you smell like Hayun?” he asks, his voice soft in contrast to the raging storm you see in his eyes. “Why do you smell more like my true mate than she even does? Is this some wicked, cruel prank?”

You shake your head, intentionally drawing a breath through your mouth in hopes of saving your nose from another assault of his perfect scent. But, instead, his flavor laces over your tongue and slides down your throat to sit like a knot in your belly. You might as well have licked a stripe up his neck for all the good that did.

“I-I don’t know,” you choke out, trying to keep the pool of saliva under your tongue from dripping down your chin.

Jungkook steps closer to you, leading with his nose. He sniffs the air around you and something must not sit well with what he discovers because he rears back and bares his teeth. “Of course,” he mutters as his eyes drop to your left wrist.

Your eyes track his movement as he scoops up your wrist in a loose grip, and you realize it’s the bracelet there that has his attention. Everything clicks into place, and you feel like the faintest breeze could sweep you away with how lightheaded you’re feeling at this moment.

“We traded,” you whisper as if speaking low enough means the admission won’t utterly destroy the world as you know it.

“She’s not my true mate,” he states, voice as low as yours, fevered and quiet. “You are.”

Those words punch you in the chest, nearly taking you to your knees. If it weren’t for the hold Jungkook has on your wrist, you’re sure you’d be in a heap on the floor. As it is, he catches his other arm around your waist as you sway on the spot.

“Y-you shouldn’t.” Your protest is stilted, the words feeling robotic and unnatural as you gingerly press a hand against the arm that’s angled around your ribs. It was your intention to push his touch away, but the most you accomplish is flexing your fingers against the smooth cotton covering his thick bicep.

Somehow, you find yourself back in the room you had fled from just a few minutes ago. Jungkook settled you on the bed and is now pressing a chilled water bottle into your hands.

He kneels before you, headless of putting wrinkles in his black dress slacks. He’s wearing a thin white undershirt, his starched white button-up undone over it. The cuffs of the sleeves flop as he brings his hands into his lap and picks at the edges of his thumbnails.

Your eyes rove the room, catching on the black leather box still sitting on the floor by the door where you dropped it. Inside the box is nestled a pair of golden cufflinks—a pair you now understand have been passed down through the generations of Jeon men.

Absently, you press your thumb to your phone, unlocking it to reveal the text message that has irrevocably changed your life forever.

If you had known Taehyung’s text message requesting help would have led you to where you are right now, you’d probably have ignored it.

Yet, at the same time, if you had, you’d probably have had this revelation with Jungkook in the middle of the ceremony, and it would have caused all sorts of untoward chaos. No, it’s far better that it’s happening now instead of later. Maybe you can get ahead of this and fix it somehow. Though…

“Hey? You okay?” Jungkook interrupts your thoughts. “Fuck, that’s a stupid question. Sorry.”

“Huh? Oh. Umm…yeah. I don’t—what do we do now?” You turn your phone over, finger ghosting over the power button to lock the screen once more.

Jungkook sighs, and you can’t help watching the rise and fall of his shoulders, framing the swell of his defined chest with the action. He’s an exquisite specimen of masculinity, and even if it weren’t for the musky notes of his scent that mark him as your true mate, you’d find him devastatingly attractive.

“We need to tell Hayun. I c-can’t…I can’t marry her. Not when I’ve found—” he cuts off, wincing as his voice breaks. “I should go and find her. Now, before this can go any further. I’m sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll find you later, okay?”

“Wait,” you call after him. He stops halfway to the door and glances back at you over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t we tell her together?”

Jungkook chews the inside of his cheek a moment, his eyes flicking over your face as he thinks through your suggestion. Slowly, he nods. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”

There is palpable tension between you and Jungkook as you follow behind him out of the main building. He texted Jimin, knowing he’d be the most reliable with his phone on him, asking where the photos were currently taking place.

It only took a few minutes for Jimin to respond that they were almost finished but were currently capturing some group shots on the walking path by the lake on the backside of the property.

You’re vaguely aware of where the lake is located, having given the map of the grounds that was posted on the backside of your room’s door a cursory look the day you arrived. It’s a relatively short distance, yet it feels like miles with the weight of pure dread sitting firmly on your shoulders.

At least it’s not a feeling you’re experiencing alone. Jungkook is right there with you, and you can clearly see the unease in the stiff way his body moves. The tips of his fingers twitch back in your direction every few steps like he’s fighting off the urge to slip them between your own.

The first person you catch sight of is Yoona, the photographer. She’s squatting in the grass, her large DSLR camera held up to her face, as she captures candid moments of Hayun, Taehyung, and Jimin repositioning themselves along the lake's edge.

Your heart squeezes hard at how beautiful Hayun is in her form-fitting silk ivory, off-the-shoulder wedding gown, the lacy bell sleeves fluttering around her hands. Her head is thrown back, the peel of her carefree laughter carrying to you and further crumbling your soul into a million pieces. You ache, not just for the desire to draw closer to your true mate, but for the inevitable aftermath of what is about to happen.

Taehyung is the first to notice you and Jungkook. The smile on his face slowly disappears, replaced by a concerned frown. Hayun catches his expression and follows his line of sight. Her gaze sears into you, and you feel like you might combust into a cloud of ash at any second with the irritation contained in her pretty brown eyes.

“What’s going on?” Hayun exclaims, throwing her hands up in a frustrated manner as she stalks towards you and Jungkook. “It’s not time for your photos yet,” she tells you before her eyes swing to Jungkook. “What happened to not seeing me before the wedding? That was your rule!”

“Hayun, we need to talk.”

“Talk about wh—” she cuts off, her question turning into a gasp. Your wide eyes flick to you. “You told him?”

“What? No!”

Your protest rings out at the same time that Jungkook says, “She’s my true mate.”

A breeze kicks up, sweeping from behind you and tossing errant strands of hair across Hayun’s forehead. You’d give anything for the power to pluck the wind from the air, shove it back…keep it from showering her with yours and Jungkook’s combined scents—a blatant confirmation echoing the words Jungkook just let loose.

Hayun stiffens. Her jaw goes rigid, and her face pales as her nostrils flare. It’s a moment that will be forever written across the band of your friendship. Betrayal flashes through her eyes before morphing into something akin to somber resignation.

“Hayun,” Jungkook begins. “I don’t—we didn’t…I’m sorry. What do we do?” He spreads his hands out in front of himself in a helpless manner.

By this time, Jimin and Taehyung have come up from behind Hayun, faces wary as they take in the scene with growing clarity. You look to Taehyung, hoping he can see the silent plea in your eyes.

“Explain,” Hayun says simply. Despite how collected she seems, you can see the subtle tremble in her hands and the way the muscles in her neck continue to flex and strain as she clenches and grinds her teeth.

Jungkook launches into recounting the events that brought you to his room and broke the proverbial dam. “We—we had no idea. I swear this is the first time we’ve ever met, and gods, the bracelets…” Jungkook trails off, a pained sound rumbling from his chest.

“Is this a joke?” Taehyung asks accusingly, and it’s like a barb to your heart.

“We wouldn’t do that.” Your croaked statement draws Hayun’s attention.

Hayun sniffles, her chin jerking a little higher into the air. “My nose tells me one thing, but my heart tells me another. Did you know about this last night? Is that why you pushed so hard for me to tell him?” The last part is whispered, meant only for you, which hurts even more.

“Hayun, no! You know that’s impossible. I couldn’t have known.”

“Tell me what?” Jungkook asks, having heard despite her whisper, his eyes swiveling between you and Hayun.

You shake your head at him, not wanting to throw further fuel on the fire. “Hayun, please, believe me.”

A pregnant moment full of thick tension passes before it fizzles, and Hayun shakes her head, not in a dismissive fashion but in gentle acceptance. “I believe you,” she tells you. “I guess…I guess there won’t be a wedding in four hours unless you two want…” She trails off, a bittersweet smile tugging at her cherry red painted lips.

Jungkook blanches, wide eyes landing on you. “What? Us? No. I mean, sorry…but—”

Hayun holds up her hand, quelling Jungkook’s flustered response. “I was teasing, Koo, trying to lighten the mood. Um,” she pauses, absently twisting the diamond engagement ring around her finger before slowly slipping it off and closing a fist around it. “Can we talk, though? There’s something I needed to tell you today anyway.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says wearily.

“Tae, do you mind…?” Hayun asks, not even having to fill in the blanks. Her brother instantly steps into his role as protector and savior.

“Don’t worry about anything. I’ll make some phone calls,” Taehyung assures her before grabbing Jimin’s arm and starting back down the walking path.

“I’ll just—” you thumb over your shoulder in the direction Tae and Jimin just disappeared in “—be in my room.”

“Wait,” Hayun calls, pulling your retreat up short. “Come here.” She opens her arms, her hands opening and closing in grabby motions. “Please.”

A sob cracks from your throat as you throw yourself at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “I’m so sorry, Hayun. I’m so sorry.”

“Hush. None of that. This isn’t anything we could have predicted or stopped from happening. If anything, maybe this is life’s way of getting back at me for what I did to him,” she whispers in your ear. “This is how it’s meant to be.”

Hayun smoothes a hand over your back and releases you. She steps back, using the back of a finger to lift the tears from your cheeks, and gives you a watery smile.

You’re not sure you can speak without completely losing yourself, so you just give her a tight nod and continue back on your way down the path. A part of you wants to hear what she has to say to Jungkook, to be there to soothe any hurts or aches…which is a startling realization that you’d not just tend to Hayun but to Jungkook, too. That internal, visceral part of you yearns to turn on your heel and…protect what’s yours.

It’s an odd revelation to think of Jungkook as yours. Well, yours unless either of you reject the bond. Though, that thought makes your stomach pitch and roil. You have to trail a hand along the wall in the hall leading to your room to keep yourself from curling over your abdomen at just the idea.

Once back in your room, you’re unsure what to do with yourself, so you absently start to gather your belongings and pack them up. Every few minutes, you find yourself pausing to stare at the door, ears pricking at the slightest sound from beyond it.

You’re not sure what you’re expecting. Whether it’s Hayun coming to your room so the two of you can cry together or Jungkook coming to claim y—uh, you shove that thought aside quickly because now is not the time. At. All.

The time for the wedding comes and passes without a single knock on your door nor a text or call on your phone. You’re tempted to go looking. For what, you’re not entirely sure—an answer, maybe, some sort of direction on what you should do now.

Finally, after hours of sitting in silence with just your thoughts for company, a soft knock sounds at your door. The long hem of your dress nearly trips you up in your haste to make it to the door. It swings open, and for some reason, your stomach drops, the flutter of disappointment heavy and unexpected.

“Hey, beautiful,” Taehyung says, his voice soft and full of emotion. “Mind if I come in?” 

His necktie is loose, and the top button of his dress shirt is undone. There is a tension in his eyes that wasn’t there earlier. It makes your chest ache.

“Sure,” you say, stepping back and letting him into your room.

Taehyung sighs, perches on the end of your bed, and props his elbows on his knees. His chin rests on an upturned fist, his other hand dangling between his legs, clutching his phone.

He opens his mouth, a single word the only thing coming out, “So.”

“So,” you parrot.

“Hayun wants me to take her home…alone. I’m not sure what all she and Jungkook talked about, but I think they’re at least amicable in agreeing that it would be best if he gave her a few days at home alone before they start the process of separating their lives.” You’re not sure if the bitter tinge in your chest is hurt because Hayun isn’t the one telling you this or because now you have to find your own way to the airport. As if reading your thoughts, Taehyung continues, “I can be back in two days, maybe sooner, depending on traffic. Perhaps they’ll let you extend your stay. If not, I can talk to Jimin—”

“No, Tae, it’s okay. I’ll figure something out. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of Hayun, make sure she’s okay...as okay as she can be, at least. Fuck.” The last word comes out choked, and you gnash your teeth on the inside of your cheek to keep from letting the angry tears out. You have no right to be angry. Hell, you’re not even sure why you’re angry. It just seems like the easiest emotion to feel right now, the only one that doesn’t leave you feeling like your world is slowly imploding.

“Hey,” Taehyung says, bringing one of his big hands up to cup the side of your face. His thumb prods at the swell of your cheek, causing you to release the tension in your jaw. “Hayun isn’t the only one I’m worried about here.”

“I’m fine—I will be fine,” you amend. “I promise. I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed. I’m mad at myself for ruining Hayun’s big day. I can’t believe this is happening at all. This…this just doesn’t happen. This is the kind of shit you read about in books, it’s not supposed to be real life.”

And there it is, you surmise—the truth of the matter. None of what’s happened makes sense. It honestly belongs on the pages of a book or in a movie script, not in your real life. It still feels surreal. If it weren’t for the subtle, lingering ache you instinctively know is associated with finding your true mate but not allowing yourself to fully accept it, you’d think this was all some elaborate party trick or impractical joke.

Taehyung smiles at you, but the unease in his eyes can’t be masked that easily. “I’m not sure what to say or what to do. You’re right. This isn’t a situation I think anyone was prepared for or ever thought possible, actually. But, here we are…and we have to face it the best way we can.” He pauses for a moment, looking thoughtful. “I'll tell you what: I’ll text Jimin—he’s a good guy, I think you’ll enjoy his company—and ask him to meet you in the lounge. Have a few drinks, wind down, and try to relax as best you can.”

“Sure,” you say lamely, trying to muster up at least a little bit of enthusiasm.

“That’s my girl.” Taehyung offers you another smile, this one not so tense. “Here, I have something for you.” He fishes into his pant pocket and produces a familiar thin silver chain, a tiny crescent moon dangling near one end.

The sight has your spine straightening. “Right, of course.” You quickly thumb open the clasp on the bracelet around your wrist, letting it fall from your skin for the first time since you put it on when Hayun gave it to you all those years ago. It never felt right to take it off…not until now.

Taehyung helps you swap the bracelet with the one in his hand. The metal feels cold against your skin and you immediately miss the subtle fragrance of Hayun’s scent clinging to your wrist. Though, you suppose that’s what has gotten you both into this mess to begin with. Taehyung explains in soft words how Jungkook explained to Hayun about the scent mix-up with the bracelets—such a silly, seemingly insignificant thing…the catalyst to spark such a colossal moment.

“I’m going to get on the road with Hayun, but I’ll call you as soon as we get to her place and check in on you, okay?”

Sitting at the bar with Jungkook’s best friend seemed like a good idea when Taehyung first presented it to you. But, at the time, you weren’t connecting the dots that Jimin was Jungkook’s best friend. He was just Jimin, the guy that just so happened also to be part of the wedding party that you had met in passing briefly, but he seemed like a good enough person. Now, however, you feel all the awkward tension radiating right between your shoulder blades, emphasized by the silence lingering between the two of you.

You traded in your lilac dress for jeans and a light silk blouse, canvas slip-ons in place of your slippers, yet no matter how comfortable you know your clothing is, you can’t shake the prickling discomfort eating away at the back of your neck.

“Want another?” Jimin asks, nodding to your mostly watered-down rum and coke. It’s barely late afternoon, and as much as Taehyung’s suggestion of a drink sounded like just what you needed, you’ve found yourself not in the mood to drink after all.

“Um, nah. I’m okay, thanks.”

“Cool. Okay. I’ll be right back.” Jimin drums his fingers on the tabletop and pops his lips before giving you a slight head nod and pushing up from his chair.

You watch as he saunters to the long bar, his crescent moon tattoo on the nape of his neck peeking out from the top of his collar, and props his elbows onto the shiny top. His smile is flirty and casual as the bartender, a beautiful woman with long, inky tresses and fiery red lipstick, sidles up in front of him.

They’re too far away for you to hear their conversation, but her tinkling laughter carries across the space, and you know it might be a while before Jimin returns to your table.

Which you’re okay with. Considering you know you’re not exactly pleasant company right now, you don’t blame him one bit. You glance down at your phone, once again reading the last text message Hayun sent you not too long ago.

Eunseo stopped by the lounge around the same time Jimin showed up. If her smile and lingering hug were any indicator, she clearly had a thing for him. She gave you a small wave goodbye before giving Jimin another hug and heading out. Apparently, she was going to follow Taehyung and Hayun back to Hayun and Jungkook’s place to help Hayun with whatever she needed over the next few days.

Does it hurt that your best friend is relying on someone else, her new best friend? Yes. Do you also understand why? Also, yes, but that doesn’t make the sting hurt any less.

You’re just about to give up and retreat back to your room, which the front desk still hasn’t given you a definitive answer about whether or not your stay can be extended while you wait for Tae, when a shadow falls across your table a second before.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Jungkook asks in a low voice.

He fidgets, threading and unthreading his fingers together while he waits for your answer. The suit he had half on earlier is gone, and in its place is a dark pair of jeans, the knees worn fashionably, and an oversized white graphic t-shirt. Black sneakers peek out from the rounded bottoms of his pant legs.

You clear your throat, forcing your eyes away from his and instead on the glass sitting in a puddle of condensation on the table before you. “Oh, I—uh, I was actually about to go. You’re welcome to the table, though. Jimin was—” You cut off, realizing Jimin is no longer in the lounge at all. “Well, he was here,” you add with a frown.

Jungkook scratches a hand across the back of his neck and gives you a hesitant smile. “Yeah, he texted me. He went…well, that doesn’t matter. Could we, um…can we talk?”

“Yes.” The response is out of your mouth before he even finishes asking. “Please, I think I’d like that,” you say, nodding toward the open seat across from you.

A shaky breath rattles from Jungkook as he eases into the empty seat. “Have you talked to Hayun at all?” he asks after a moment’s hesitation.

“A text message, but that’s all. I’m not sure she wants to talk to me right now.” Needing something to do with your hands, you trace a finger along the edge of the water pooled around the bottom of your glass and use your other to poke more drops on the side of your cup, making them race down to join the growing puddle.

Jungkook nods, his lips pursing thoughtfully. “She told me what happened last night. Her confession.” That draws your attention back to him, and you wait, fingers still on the glass, intent on hearing what he says next. “I thought I’d be angrier finding out the woman I’ve been with for years—the woman I was hours away from marrying—had cheated on me…but I’m not. For the life of me, I’m not mad at her…even though I know I should be.”

“How do you feel?”

Maybe it’s none of your business, but you have to ask.

Blowing out a breath, Jungkook slides one of his hands across the table and, giving you plenty of time to protest or pull away, slowly slides his fingers between yours, effectively joining his hand with yours. It’s the first time hand-holding has felt so intimate yet wholly innocent.

“Relieved, I think,” he finally says. “Grateful, maybe? Hayun was hurt. As she has every right to be, but she said she also felt relief, too. I think, as much as she said she loved me, she was still holding back even in the end.” With a rueful shake of his head, he tacks on, “We were just a disaster waiting to happen, held together only by the thin chain of a bracelet. We would have shattered eventually.”

Jungkook’s eyes drop to where your fingers are entwined with his, trailing up to your wrist to land on the object he just spoke of.

“I’m relieved, too,” you whisper. Your eyes meet his as he glances up, and you’re instantly captivated.

This is the first time you’ve allowed yourself to really study Jungkook. His hair is tousled like he’d been running his hands through it for hours. You suppose he probably had been and wonder if that’s one of his nervous ticks.

The bow of his lips is prominent and draws your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his lips, making small mental notes at everything you see, like the tiny beauty mark under his bottom lip. His straight nose leads you to his expressive eyes, so dark and full of secrets you want to be privy to.

To say Jungkook is handsome would be a gross understatement. You’re not sure if it’s the fact he’s your true mate or just simply a gorgeous being, but he is pleasing to the eyes, that’s for sure.

You mentally kick yourself for thinking such thoughts about your best friend’s almost-husband after everything that has just happened. It’s not in good taste to entertain these thoughts so soon, right? True mate or not.

Yet, you can’t shove those thoughts away completely.

“Where did you go just now?” Jungkook asks, tilting his head and studying you intently.

Not wanting to explain yourself and the thoughts you were just having, you choose to ask him a question instead. “So, what now?”

You’re thankful Jungkook doesn’t push you to answer. He shifts in his seat and withdraws his fingers from between yours.

“I think we start with…” he trails off, a playful smile tugging up the side of his mouth as he holds the hand he pulled back in the air in front of you in offering. “Hi, I’m Jungkook.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, you smile. A laugh escapes you, and you instantly feel a thousand times lighter with that simple action.

As you take his hand back into yours, allowing yourself to truly savor the feel of his skin against yours, you realize that no matter what happens with Hayun or the fact that you live thousands of miles apart from Jungkook…everything is going to be okay and maybe you wouldn’t have ignored Taehyung’s text after all.

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook, 3 months later

The flight was long but worth it. Jungkook stretches as he climbs out of the Uber he took from the airport. You would have picked him up. In fact, you are supposed to pick him up…just, not until next week. He decided to surprise you by coming early. He hopes you don’t mind.

Time seemed to drag to a near stand-still following that fateful day at the bed and breakfast where he was so sure he’d be joining his life with Hayun’s officially. No one could have anticipated what actually went down that day. But, in the end, he and Hayun parted ways on pleasant terms, and it’s actually thanks to her that he’s here right now, a week early.

Jungkook was worried that with everything that happened, yours and Hayun’s friendship might suffer. But, surprisingly—and thankfully—you guys have been getting on great. Hayun has been looking at work prospects in Thailand but, from what you’ve told Jungkook, is planning to visit you and Taehyung for Christmas.

It’s been three months, and not a day has gone by that Jungkook hasn’t talked to you in some capacity. From the moment he offered to be your ride to the airport, and you agreed, he’s thought about nothing other than getting on a plane and following you. The draw to you is just that strong.

You’ve expressed similar feelings, already having planned a return trip to Seoul next month. Neither Jungkook nor you have really talked about what the future holds or how to even begin to navigate it. But Jungkook hopes that during the week he is here, you can both begin to figure that out.

Giddiness makes his tattooed fingers shake as he reaches out and grasps the brass knocker on your door. He gives it a rap against the thick wood and waits. Jungkook counts the breaths as his anticipation rises. It’s only three and a half exhales before he hears the soft pad of your feet on the other side of the door.

Jungkook can imagine you pressing up onto your tip toes in order to peer through the peephole. He’d pay money to be able to see the look on your face when you see it’s him. Not being able to see your face doesn’t take away from the dopamine rush he gets when the sound of your surprised squeal sounds through the door.

“Jungkook!” Your shout is followed by the frantic sound of you disengaging the locks on your door before you swing it open and launch yourself at him. “What the fuck are you doing here? Oh, my gods! Why didn’t you tell me? You’re here!”

It feels good to laugh, but it feels even better to have you in his arms finally. The brief embrace he shared with you at the airport when he dropped you off was not enough and is what drove him to try and come sooner than planned.

Jungkook savors the warmth of your soft body pressed against his, your arms tight around his neck. Running one of his hands up your spine, he clasps the back of your neck and uses his hold there to angle your head away from his neck so he can look you in the face.

“Surprise,” he whispers. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You sigh dreamily, your eyes fluttering closed for a second like you’re savoring the feeling of being in his arms. “Pleasant surprise,” you murmur with a smile on your face.

Jungkook can’t help himself. He wants so badly to know if your smile tastes as good as he thinks it will. The press of his lips against yours causes you to melt against him, a throaty sound escaping around the intrusion of his tongue as he works it between your lips.

“Your taste,” he groans, forcing his mouth away from yours before the allure of you can drive him completely mad. Who is he kidding? He’s already there. “I need more.”

🥀🥀🥀

Those words do something to you.

I need more.

They echo the thoughts you’ve been harboring for the last three months. You’ve ached with those words, desperately willing yourself to be patient and let it happen when it’s meant to happen.

But, fuck, it feels so good to have him in your arms, to have his mouth brushing against yours. He tastes divine, a warm sweetness that compliments the musk of his scent that is slowly wrapping itself around you.

“Take me. Take it all,” you urge, completely baring yourself to him, body, mind, and soul. “I’m yours.”

It’s a frenzy, the frantic discarding of clothing. Your fingers work to free him of his jeans while also helping him with the criss-cross straps of your lounging romper. You don’t care that you’re still standing by your front door, bared down to your underwear. The only thing you’re focusing on now is how Jungkook holds you at arm's length and drinks you in from head to toe.

“You…are…everything.” The way he whispers those words crawls under your skin, rooting itself deep in your being. You feel sexy…desired, and unbelievably empty—your body clenches, the ache deep between your thighs. You’ve never been so turned on from just taking your clothes off before, from whispered words and a heated look.

Jungkook allows you to undress him as slow or as fast as you want. You try to take your time and savor every inch of skin you expose. But, you can barely contain yourself when you get to his jeans, shoving them unceremoniously down his thighs with your eyes locked on the many planes and angles of his toned chest and stomach.

Your fingers ghost over his skin, eliciting goosebumps in their wake as you explore the smooth and lush expanse of his shoulders and down his arms. Without needing to say anything more, he gathers you into his arms and covers your mouth with his once more.

It’s a miracle you make it to your bedroom. But, seeing Jungkook sprawled out on your bed is a sight you’ll never forget, with his lowered lids and bottom lip caught between his teeth. You want to taste every inch of him, from the tips of his ears down to the defined muscles of his calves.

Now, though, your gaze focuses on the front of his tented boxer briefs. The dark grey material has darkened even further, where you can see the distinct outline of the head of his cock. Saliva pools in your mouth.

You crawl on the bed, knees slotting between his, your hands on either side of his hips. With your eyes locked on his, you lean down and mouth gently at the wetness. You moan at the flavor of him, your tongue peeking out to seek more.

“Fuck,” you curse. “You taste so good.”

Jungkook lets out a quick breath. “You can’t say shit like that, baby girl. You’re going to make me lose it.” He flicks his eyes up to the ceiling, his lips moving like he’s sending up a silent prayer, before looking back down at you. “You have maybe three seconds before I can’t hold back any longer and tear that ass up.”

You chuckle softly, pouting out your lips in a faux sullen manner. “Yes, sir.”

That earns a growl from Jungkook that has heat racing down your spine as you hook your fingers into the band of his Calvin Klein’s and pull them down. He lifts his hips, helping you free him from their confines.

His cock stands so pretty before you, the full heft bobbing against his belly, smearing a pearl of precum against his golden skin. You dive in, licking at the sticky mess before taking the tip between your lips and lavishing your tongue over his slit.

Jungkook fists the sheets, a litany of curses falling from his lips. “Please,” he chokes.

You keep your eyes locked on his as you inch your way down his length, your jaw forcing itself wider to accommodate as much of him as you can. The blunt head of his cock presses against the back of your throat. You take a steadying breath in through your nose before forcing yourself a little further until your throat constricts around him and you have to pull back.

The second your mouth leaves his cock, saliva stringing from your lips to his tip, Jungkook grabs you and hauls you up over him. You laugh, loving the heat emanating from his body as yours covers his.

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

His strong hands land on your hips and tangle in the band of your panties. “I need these off. Please. I need you. I want to feel you…be inside you.”

You want that, too, you realize, your body already primed and begging for it. The sweet, fragrant notes of your arousal saturate the air, mixing with Jungkook’s to paint a picture of hedonism and wanton desires.

The rest of your clothes come off, your bra and panties are tossed to the side, leaving you utterly bare to him. Your inner thighs slide like velvet over his hips as you move your body against his until you can feel the press of the head of his cock against your entrance.

You wrap a hand around his base, angling him perfectly. It’s a slow descent into madness, the lowering of your body onto his. His eyes bore into yours, pouring out everything that has been building to this moment, this pinnacle that will forever throttle you onto a different path for your future—with him. You can feel every perfect inch slide along your walls as they adjust and welcome him. It’s like sliding home; he is the perfect fit for your body, filling you completely.

The pace you set, at first, is languid. An easy rise and fall of your hips as you both learn the body of the other. Jungkook’s hands mold around your breasts, his thumbs caressing over the pert points of your nipples.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, emphasizing your words with a generous roll of your hips. “So much better than I imagined.”

“You imagined it often?” he asks, a teasing tone to his words.

With the amount of teasing photos and videos you’ve shared with each other over the last few weeks, he knows you have. You can tell he’s just giving you a hard time. That’s fine, because you can…

Jungkook throws his head back as you arch yours, letting his cock hit that special place inside that has you both seeing stars. “Fuck!” His hands drop to your hips, landing with a satisfying smack. His grip tightens, dimpling the supple flesh around his fingers. “Can I knot you?” he asks with a breathless moan. You’ve never taken an alpha’s knot. The idea has your body pulsing around his, flooding slick onto his pelvis as you continue to roll your hips. “Fuck, baby girl, do you like that idea? You want to take my knot like a good girl?”

You can’t even form a coherent thought, much less answer him. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a panting keen, your chin jerking up and down as you frantically nod your want.

Jungkook braces his feet against the mattress and uses his grip on your hips as leverage to thrust upward, sending you forward onto your hands. He’s relentless, pounding into you from below to the point your eyes roll back, and you have to squeeze them shut. Tiny pinpricks of light burst behind your lids as your body coils tighter than ever before.

You cry out as he sends you over the edge, your body careening into an unfathomable abyss of pleasure. The sounds coming from around his cock as it pounds into you are slick and obscene, debauched yet wholly satisfying. 

“Alpha, need your knot,” you mewl, your lips finding the triskelion tattoo over Jungkook’s left pec muscle. You nibble at it, your teeth sinking softly into the skin.

“Oh, baby, fuck…fuck…Fuuuckkk!” Jungkook shouts, the sound turning into a guttural snarl as his body goes primal.

He seats himself completely inside of you with one final, deliberate thrust, and then you can feel the swell of his knot capture within you. It hurts, your pleasure turning into a moment of pain and panic. You squirm, trying to lift your hips from his, but the clasp of his hands on your body won’t let you go far. You whine, “J-Jungkook.”

“I know, baby girl, I know. Relax. Let your body do what it needs to do.”

It’s like those words unlock some inner Omega part of your brain, and suddenly you feel your body rush with endorphins and dopamine as it accepts the thick jets of his cum now flooding in. Like administering a drug, it’s such a fast transition that you feel lightheaded and giddy, sheepish and almost silly over your moment of panic.

“Gods, that feels so…good.” You wiggle in his arms, gasping as his knot pulls tight. You want more, need more of that feeling…need more of his cum. “More, Alpha, please.”

Jungkook pants, a tired smile on his face. You can feel it when his cock pulses inside you, dribbling even more liquid heat into your body in answer to your plea. “That’s my pretty girl,” Jungkook coos, brushing a hand across your forehead. “You’re so beautiful taking my knot, full of my cum.” He curses softly, reverently, and another gush of heat fills your body. “I’m going to take such good care of you. I swear it.”

You fall into a half-sleep, content and sated as you are. There are no worries about the future, nor the past. You are happy…all thanks to a pair of golden cufflinks.

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2024-11-05 ColorMePurplex2

[beautifullilacsky]

Babygirl. We have come so far.

Today, your thoughts turned around to the past. They shook hands with the way we used to treat ourselves. It started off on a note I'd never expect it to start off of, though; look at that picture of me, the one in the natural pool in Madeira. The first time I looked at it, I was truly surprised and shooketh. "Damn, I look thin", as to which niklas said that that's how I always look, I am, in fact, thin. I didn't count, but I think I asked him at least 3 times. "Do I truly look like this?" He did say that the angle might be making me look extra thin, but yes. Suddenly, it all clicked. How to him, I can seem so fragile. So fragile that he'd always let me walk first on hikes to make sure the pace is okay, always carrying the backpack himself. The way he is scared of hurting me, like, physically. The picture looks like a tiny, thin, and fragile girl. Yeah tbh, she also doesn't look particularly strong. You can see her collarbones. Her ribs. Her shoulders. Tbh, she also looks a bit like a petshop. I do think the gopro did something with the angle there, u can't tell me my head is out of proportion to my tiny body, lol. My point is. Today, I was doubting whether or not I should eat those cookies. After thinking if it'd make me thick, I remembered. I am v thin, more weight wouldn't be so bad.

I never expected to truly feel skinny. Or well, 'too skinny', at least. To think I could gain some weight; it wouldn't be a problem. That is very new to me. After 25 years. Some of those years being spend hating my body and my belly and feeling overweight, even if my teacher even told me that being underweight is dangerous, her eyes seemingly insinuating the obvious.

Yet here I am. This one picture. And tbh, the other pics or videos of this vacation, don't have the same vibe. So I do think it's the angle. And maybe a bit of a fishbowl effect. Either way. It got me thinking. And suddenly I was thinking of it again: boobs. I am also reading 'the 7 husband's of Evelyn Hugo', who seduced men with her big boobs. Somehow, booby enlargement came to my mind again. Why? It's been so long. I have learned to love my boobs, yet this blast of the past came into my head. Actually,.. it is just a thought. It is actually nice. A reminder of where we came from.

How I hated my body in the past. And here I am. Loving every single part of it. Frankly, I love my boobs the way they are. Sure, they might not be super big, but I don't need to hold them when I run or sprint down the stairs. Sure, they are soft in the middle instead of pointy, but I think it's fascinating how certain temperatures, moods and touches can change that. Sure, they don't touch, but at least it also won't create a hot brew in there or trap my clothes inbetween or underneath my boobs. Honestly, they are truly perfect. (Even the little pimple on there right now. Even though I am a bit scared; is it truly a pimple? It should be, it behaves like one for sure.) I can cup one into my hand; it is a perfect fit. As if they were made to be held so gently and smoothly. So filled with love. So, ... true. My hand can touch all of its beautiful creases. They don't overflow my hands, nor do I need to search to find them. Sure, some might have bigger boobs, but not everyone likes that. Some people get attention just because of it. I am truly happy to be able to say that a lot of people just like me for my personality. The looks are for sure also there, but at least my boobs don't get eye-fucked or objectified. I am myself. Perfect the way I am. And I am grateful to be this exact way. I think my boobs are adorable, they are cute, and truly. Truly beautiful. Thanks boobs, for being w me always. And I'm sorry that I didn't see the beauty of you guys for a part of my life. I am happy that I do now, since a while. Love u, boobies. Lol.

Anyhow. I wish to send myself love letters. See this is a loveletter to one of the bodyparts which I was insecure about in the past. Let me show them some true love, which is exactly what they deserve.

[satorulovebot]

so scarlet it was, maroon | chapter one

✧₊⁺ pairing — satoru gojou x journalist!reader

✧₊⁺ chapter summary — you get the chance to meet the infamous gojou satoru while working on your journalism project at suzuka circuit. what could you possibly want from him?

✧₊⁺ word count — 6.3k

✧₊⁺ warnings — nsfw (minors dni), age gap, alcohol use, mature themes, mentions of cheating, substance abuse, themes of marriage and divorce

✧₊⁺ notes — hello everyone! i asked you awhile ago on a poll which series you would like to see after cursed seas and f1 gojo won the poll and then i posted the masterlist and everyone wants it so you get it now. so here it is. and NO its not happy NEVER expect happiness from me because im allergic to it. also the reader being nosy af is inspired by me and my parents telling me i should be a journalist with how nosy i am.

series masterlist // pinterest moodboard // general masterlist

next. (coming soon)

You moved to Tokyo with your family when you were younger.

You grew up in a rural part of the country, surrounded by farmers and people either ready to retire or nearing the end of their lives. Your parents hated living there, and so did you—for one, there were hardly any kids to play with, and two, as your father would say, "too many old fuckers lying around."

When you moved to Tokyo, your family decided to celebrate by taking you to a Formula 1 race. Your dad thought it would be perfect for the two of you since fixing up old cars had always been your daddy-daughter activity.

You didn’t like the idea of racing at first—the noise was too loud, and the idea of people speeding toward a black-and-white checkered line seemed ridiculous. But the moment you heard the roar of the engines and watched the lights go from red to green, you were captivated, a fascination that would stay with you for years.

When you got your first computer, you began looking up videos of F1 drivers. One day, you stumbled across a video titled “The Biggest F1 Scandals in History,” and that was when you decided you wanted to go into journalism.

You were nosy, to say the least. So, it was no surprise to your parents when you announced to them that you wanted to pursue journalism as a career. Your father reminded you how you’d always been curious, listening in on others’ conversations and keeping up with the latest school drama.

When you applied for journalism school, you were accepted into one of the top programs in the world—Sophia University. Your parents were proud that you’d made it into such a highly ranked school for journalism in Japan.

You were now in your fourth and final year at Sophia, and enjoying your journalism class. Recently, your professor assigned a project: write a story about a major pop culture figure of your choice, and for extra credit, get an interview with them. Your professor knew it was damn near impossible, but he was always optimistic that one day, someone would get that interview and he could retire in peace.

That project led you here: Suzuka Circuit, Japan's main Formula 1 track. Your chosen figure was none other than Gojou Satoru—F1's biggest driver in recent years. He was your father's favorite among the new-generation drivers, known for his string of controversies since he started on top of the persistent rumors of his heavy drug use before races.

You had managed to snag a media passs from your professor when you mentioned doing an F1 driver for your project. He was able to pull some strings to get you into the media booth, getting you a closer look at Gojou Satoru in person.

You watched the pre-race preparations closely from the media booth, your fingers hovered above your notepad as you waited for the race to start. You were determined to get a good grade on this project, and that meant adding every single detail to your report about this race.

It was about time for the drivers to gather in their garages, each wearing headsets and ready for the pre-race briefing. The briefing typically covers the race start, various pit stop scenarios, and a detailed weather report. Before each race weekend, they usually spend time in a simulator of the track they'll be racing on, preparing them for the upcoming race.

After about thirty-minutes the racers came out of their garages in their respective cars. They each line up based on the results of a quaifying session that takes place before the race, slowest qualifier in the back, fastest in the front. Gojou Satoru was at the front of the grid, which meant he was one of the qualifiers who had the fastest time.

You waited around for a little while longer turning your attention to what was happening around you. Eventually, you made your way back to the front of the media booth as the race started, ready to report.

The engines revved as each driver began preparing for the start of the race, each car vibrating on the starting grid like a beast straining at its chains. Gojou sat at the front of the lineup, his hands loose on the wheel, fingers tapping in a steady rhythm as he waited for the lights to turn green.

The roar from the grandstands faded, becoming a blur of sound as the lights ticked down: red, red, red, red… green.

He slammed the throttle, feeling the raw force of the car’s engine kick him back into his seat as he tore down the straight. Other cars jostled for position behind him, all fighting to claim the inside line into the first turn.

Through his earpiece, he heard the voice of his race engineer, Shokou, calm as ever. “Clear on turn two, you’ve got five-tenths on Hayashi. Stay tight.”

But Gojou barley heard her. The car was an extension of him, responding to his every thought, every split-second decision. He pushed down the straights, his right foot heavy on the accelerator, taking corners at speeds most drivers wouldn’t dare attempt. The sound of his tires skidding against the asphalt, the blur of the track side barriers, the lights of Tokyo reflecting off his mirrors—it all blended into a single, perfect rush.

Gojou could see the next turn ahead, a tight chicane that could send the best drivers into the barriers if they weren't careful. He braked hard, turning the wheel with perfect precision to angle the car through. He could feel the back end wobbling, but he didn't flinch, drifting perfectly as he swung back onto the racing line, gaining another second on the pack.

He could almost hear the collective gasp of the crowd in his head as he slipped through the chicane. This was his playground. Every race was a chance to remind the world why he was the best.

“Coming up on a DRS zone,” Shoko’s voice crackled in his ear, grounding him, though he was already on it

He waited for the perfect moment, watching the rear-view mirror to see the faint outline of Hayashi's car. He pressed the DRS, and his car shot forward, the drag reduction giving him a temporary speed boost that had him pulling away, putting him in the lead.

The track opened up ahead, the second sector full of wide, sweeping turns. Here was where raw speed mattered more than anything. Gojou pressed down hard on the accelerator, the engine roaring in response. He leaned forward, watching the track fly by, the white lines blurring as he focused entirely on the road ahead.

For a second, the sound in his earpiece went dead, the faint sound of static filling his ears. Then Shokou was back. “You’ve got Yoshida closing in on your tail. He’s pushing hard.”

Gojou glanced up at the mirrors, his eyes catching the bright blue and orange of Yoshida's car looming larger. The familiar thrill sparked in him. So, Yoshida thought he had a chance, did he? Well, he’d show him otherwise.

“Copy,” he muttered into his mic, eyes narrowing as he took the next corner, barley touching the brakes. He felt the tires skid but he managed to control the drift, knowing any slip would open the door for Yoshida to slip past.

He whipped into another straight, his hands steady on the wheel as he hit a top speed.

His foot didn’t so much as twitch as the engine’s roar morphed into a high-pitched scream as the car closed the distance.

The curve ahead was brutal—a tight 90-degree bend that demanded precise timing.

In a split-second decision, he did something no one expected. He braked late, his heart pounding as he cut the turn at a speed that sent the back end skidding. The tires gripped just in time, allowing him to pull out of the corner without losing traction. He could almost feel the shock reverberating as he regained control, his lead still intact.

As the laps wore on, his body moved on instinct, every gear shift, every turn becoming a single, fluid motion. One lap. Two. Three, with two pit stops between. He counted them off one by one, his mind buzzing with the pure rush of speed and the heat inside the car, barely noticing the time passing. The crowd faded into nothing, the world shrinking down to the track and his car.

The final lap. This was it.

“Box this lap if you’re in trouble,” Shokou’s voice crackled again. “Tire degradation is high.”

But Gojou’s grip on the steering wheel only tightened. His front tires were holding out—barely. It would be tight, but he could make it. He’d run this last lap on sheer determination alone if he had to.

“Negative, Shokou. I’m taking it,” he replied, and then turned off the earpiece, tuning out everything except the track and the car in front of him.

He launched into the final lap, throwing caution to the wind. Yoshida was right on his tail now, close enough that he could see the gleam of his headlights in the mirrors. But Gojou didn’t back down. He took each turn aggressively, blocking Yoshida's attempts to pass, forcing him to fall back every time.

The last chicane loomed ahead, his final obstacle before the finish line. He tightened his grip, the wheel trembling under his hands. He took the chicane fast, too fast, almost feeling the wheels lift off the ground as he flew out of the turn. The car rocked, but he held steady, pushing the pedal to the floor.

The finish line was in sight, a faint white line at the end of the straight, and with one last push, he crossed it, the checkered flag waving in his periphery as he tore past.

It was only after he’d crossed over the line that the realization hit him—he’d won.

The cheers erupted in the stands, the roar of the crowd filling his ears as he slowed down, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. He could hear Shoko’s voice crackling back in as she shouted, “You pulled it off, you insane bastard.”

Gojou grinned, leaning back in his seat, still buzzing. He’d done it again, just as he always did.

The moment he climbed out of the cockpit, Gojou was surrounded by his team. Shokou was the first to reach him, her usually composed face split by a wide grin. She grabbed his helmet and thumped him on the shoulder hard enough so he actually felt it though the layers of his suit.

“You reckless son of a—”

“Language, Shokou,” Gojou interrupted, grinning as he yanked off his gloves, waving to the rest of the Tokyo Jujutsu Racing team that swarmed him.

“Do you know what it’s like to watch you pull stunts like that? I’m gonna need a raise after today’s heart attack,” she muttered.

“Oh, come on, Shokou. That was just a little fun.” He stretched his arms over his head. “Where’s my confetti?”

“Coming right up, your royal highness." Someone handed him a bottle of champagne, still cold and slick, and he twisted the cap, spraying a wild arc of foam that showered his team and nearby fans.

His PR manager, Nanami, clapped him on the back. “You’re insufferable."

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, lifting the champagne bottle in a mock toast, flashing him a grin. The media’s cameras clicked and flashed, capturing every moment as his crew continued their congratulations.

The crowd pressed close against the barriers, shouting his name, waving homemade banners with scribbled slogans and his number embellished with the colors red and black. He walked closer, one arm raised, acknowledging the fans, letting their cheers fill him up, louder and louder with every step.

But as he continued walking, his gaze caught on something—or rather, someone—just beyond the crowd.

At first it was just a hint curiosity, the way your gaze was fixed on him. A bit removed from the chaos, you leaned against one of the barriers with a media pass hanging around your neck, arms folded as you watched from a distance.

Gojou slightly narrowed his eyes, holding your gaze longer than he'd held any fan's tonight, as if he was daring you to look away first.

“What the hell is that about?” he muttered under his breath, gaze moving back to Shokou for half a second.

“Hm?” Shokou followed his gaze, but her eyes slid right past you, uninterested. “Press. You’ll get used to it. Come on, they’re all waiting.”

He forced himself to break the stare, clearing his throat as Shokou ushered him toward the media pen, where a lineup of journalists waited, all armed with recorders, microphones, and notebooks.

He fielded the usual questions—how did it feel to win, what was his mindset, what was he thinking on that last turn? His answers were always the same practiced ones, words sliding out like clockwork.

“Well, Mr. Gojou, what would you say to those who believe your racing style is a little… aggressive?” one journalist asked, a little smirk on her face as if she thought she was catching him off guard.

He snorted. “They can call it what they want. I call it winning.” He shrugged. “I don’t come out here to play it safe.”

A few reporters laughed at his remark, clearly interested in what else he had to say as a fresh wave of questions started.

Somewhere behind the flashing lights, he saw you again, lingering a few feet behind the crowd of reporters with that calm gaze fixed on him. You didn’t raise a recorder or a camera, didn’t even make an effort to push closer for a question. You just… watched.

It was disconcerting.

“Gojou!” Another journalist waved a microphone his face, snapping his attention back to the current situation. “What’s the next step for you this season?”

He forced a smile, eyes briefly looking back to you before he focused on the question. “The same as always,” he said. “Push harder, get faster, and give everyone something to talk about.”

The crowd laughed again, though, he barely heard them, too focused on the strange woman staring right into his soul. The two of you locked eyes and you have him a small nod, as if acknowledging that you were in fact staring into his soul.

“Well, I think that’s enough,” Shokou said suddenly at his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts. “They’ll have plenty of time to hound you later.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmured, though he let her guide him away. Still, he couldn’t help glancing back over his shoulder, hoping to catch one last glimpse of you.

But you were already gone.

Gojou slipped away from the crowd, weaving through the bustling garage and dodging the congratulatory slaps on his back, the endless rounds of handshakes, and the celebratory shouts. He ducked past a few journalists, ignoring the barrage of questions still hurled his way, his smile slipping as he finally found the door to the bathroom.

Inside, the cool, sterile silence was jarring compared to the noise outside, but he let out a sigh of relief, his heart hammering in his chest. He clicked the lock and leaned against the sink, running his hands over his face, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

The victory high had worn off, leaving behind a familiar pressure he could not cope with. It settled on his shoulders like an old, unwelcome friend.

He hadn't realized how much tension he was carrying in his shoulders, how deeply it would itself into him when he was alone. The race had been perfect, his win flawless, but he could feel the exhaustion radiating off of him, a pulsing throb being his eyes. He clenched his jaw, glaring at himself in the mirror.

“Pull yourself together,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

But his words fell flat, swallowed up by the silence. In the mirror, his own eyes stared back at him, tired, almost hollow.

He reached into the pocket of his racing suit, fingers brushing over the small, familiar packet hidden in the inner lining. It was a stupid habit, a reckless one really, but it was one he hadn't been able to shake, no matter how many times he tried to quit. He could practically feel the temporary relief in the palm of his hand.

He closed his eyes, running his thumb along the edge of the packet before pulling it out, setting it on the counter next to the sink. He ripped it open tapping a small line onto the smooth counter top. It was like his fingers had a mind of their own, as if it was part of his routine of suiting up or gripping the wheel.

The powder glinted under the bathroom’s harsh fluorescent lights, almost mocking him with its simplicity. Just a quick escape, just enough to take the edge off. That’s all he needed.

He leaned down, closing one nostril and inhaling sharply, feeling the sting as the powder hit his nose. He straightened his back, blinking hard, the world around him sharpening as his mind cleared. A small, humorless smile tugged at his lips.

He leaned back against the sink, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling, feeling his heartbeat slow, the tension in his muscles fading away.

But it didn’t take long for the guilt to creep back in, that hollow feeling settling in his chest, a reminder that this wasn't the answer. He knew it. He knew exactly what he was doing to himself, how he was destroying his body from the inside out, how it could all come crashing down. And yet… here he was.

“Fucking pathetic,” he muttered to himself, his voice echoing against the tiles.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, jolting him back to reality.

“Gojou? You in there?” It was Shokou. “They’re waiting for you out here.”

He stuffed the empty packet back into his pocket, brushed the last of the substance off of the sink, and glanced in the mirror one last time to check his reflection, making sure there was no trace left of his momentary escape.

Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders, forced a smirk, and unlocked the door.

Shokou was standing there, arms crossed, her gaze scrutinizing as he stepped out. She didn’t say anything, but her judgmental eye lingered over him for a split second too long.

“You good?”

“Never better."

“Right,” she said, clearly unconvinced, but she dropped it, gesturing for him to follow her.

As the celebrations continued, Gojou weaved his way through fans and team-members alike who were still wrapped up in their post-race celebrations. He scanned the crowd, hoping to find the strange woman from earlier who he noticed had a press pass, thinking you would be here.

And then he saw you, leaning against a stack of crates near the garages, observing the current scene with the same judgmental eyes that Shokou had. The media badge hung from your neck, swaying slightly as you shifted your weight, pulling out a notebook and flipping through it, seemingly absorbed in what you were currently doing.

He cleared his throat as he approached, the echo of his footsteps giving his presence away.

You looked up, your brow raised as he came closer, a hint of intrigue flashing in your eyes.

“Looking for something?” you asked, not moving as he stopped in front of you.

“You could say that,” he replied, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze darted to the notebook in your hands. “I couldn’t help but notice you earlier, off in the shadows. Didn’t feel like joining the crowd?”

“Not my style.” You shrugged. “I’m not here to cheer. I’m here to report.”

“Journalist, huh?” he drawled, tilting his head. “What’s your angle?”

“The truth,” you said, a little smile pulling at your lips as you studied him. “Not everyone’s a fan of that, I know.”

“Depends on what you call the truth. But I’ve got a feeling you’ve already got your version.”

"How perceptive. I’m doing a piece on your racing career, your achievements, but… the public wants a fuller picture, don’t you think?

“Not sure I follow. Everyone knows what they need to know.”

“Not quite,” you replied, flipping through your notebook. “There’s more than just racing stats when it comes to Gojou Satoru, isn’t there?”

“Care to elaborate?”

“People say you’re… unraveling. Your recent ‘questionable decisions’ are starting to paint a different picture, don’t you think?” you said, tapping your pen against your notebook. “The accidents, the fines, the constant change in pit crews—”

“Is this some kind of witch hunt?” he interrupted. “Because I’d hate to disappoint you, princess, but I’ve heard it all.”

“Maybe so.” You leaned in a bit, meeting his stare. “But what about the whispers that aren’t out yet? The suspicions about you cheating the drug tests, your team shielding you—” You paused. “There’s a lot of money on your success, Mr. Gojou.”

“Money and racing have always gone hand-in-hand, don’t you think? You’d have a hard time finding someone out here who hasn’t bent a rule or two.”

“True enough.” You titled your head slightly. “But even the most golden careers have a way of losing their shine.”

"Tell me—do you enjoy tearing people down for a living?”

“Only if it’s warranted,” you replied unfazed. “People aren’t interested in perfect stories. They want the flaws, the dirt. It makes it all more real. At least that's what my professor believes."

“You’ve got a wicked mind, I’ll give you that. But I hope you realize you’re not the first to come sniffing around for the ‘real story’.”

A pregnant pause settles between you before you asked, “And what about her?”

A beat passed before he answered. “Who?”

“Your wife. She’s been… noticeably absent from the press circuits. And rumor has it things aren’t exactly picture-perfect between you two.”

“Rumor has it,” he repeated. “Guess you know how it is in this business. There’s always some rumor or another.”

“So it’s just a rumor, then? All the time apart, the missed events, her name suddenly missing from every headline. You’re saying there’s nothing to it?”

“People are eager to make stories out of nothing. My private life is just that—private.”

“That’s interesting,” you murmured, not looking away. “Because the most recent stories about you and her—they’re awfully detailed. People are noticing, wondering why she’s suddenly… disappeared from the scene.”

“Let them wonder. Like I said, people will talk. And it seems like you’re more interested in gossip than journalism.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Journalism is about uncovering the truth,” you countered. “But it seems like you’re more comfortable brushing things under the rug than addressing them.”

His smile returned, his carefully crafted facade sliding back into place as he straightened up, glancing away from you, clearly bored of the conversation. "Maybe someday you'll get the truth you're so desperate for, but it's not going to be today."

Before he walked away completely, he gave you one last look, his tone playful but laced with a hint of warning. “Be careful what you dig up, princess. Sometimes the truth’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

And with that, he turned his back to you, disappearing into the crowd.

Gojou returned home after the long night of celebrations had died down, the adrenaline from the race long gone, now replaced by a gnawing emptiness that felt like it might hollow him out. His penthouse was in the hear of Tokyo—a sleek, modern apartment with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the neon-drenched skyline.

As he opened the door, the soft him of the city below was drowned out by the sound of footsteps, His wife, Hana, appeared from the hallway, her arms crossed tightly across her chest, her eyes narrowed. She was dressed in a sleek black outfit, her dark hair pulled back, a looking a frustration etched onto her face.

“You’re late."

“Didn’t realize I was on a curfew,” he replied, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a nearby chair.

“Don’t act like that.” Her eyes flashed as she followed him into the living room. “You missed the dinner with my parents again. They’ve been asking about you, wondering why you’re never around.”

“Hana, I just won a race,” he replied, exasperated. “Sorry if I wasn’t in the mood to play the doting son-in-law tonight.”

She scoffed, crossing her arms tighter. “Of course, it’s always about the race with you. Everything is about that damn career, isn’t it?”

“You knew what you were signing up for when you married me.”

“Maybe I didn’t know it would mean you disappearing for days, weeks sometimes, chasing whatever thrill you think you need to feel alive.”

“What’s your point, Hana? We’ve had this argument a hundred times.”

“The point is, Satoru,” she said, voice trembling with anger, “that you seem to care more about everything else than this marriage. I’m just a fixture in your life, something you come back to whenever you need to check a box or show face. But you’re never really here.”

He let out a harsh laugh, the bitter sound filling the apartment. "Here we go again. Hana, it’s not like you’ve been some shining example of commitment either. You’ve known what this is for months.”

“What this is?” Her voice rose, cracking slightly as she repeated his words. “What exactly is ‘this,’ Satoru? A sham? A partnership for appearances? I thought you loved me…"

“I can’t keep doing this,” she continued softly, her voice breaking. “The lying, the pretending. It’s exhausting.”

“So what do you want me to say, Hana? That I’m some perfect husband?” He gestured to himself, shaking his head with a smirk that looked almost pained. “We’re both guilty here. Let’s not act like this hasn’t been a slow-motion train wreck.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“Fine. But do me a favor—at least act like you care when people ask. Because every time I hear some story about you, another scandal or rumor, it’s like a slap in the face. My family, my friends—everyone’s talking. They see the headlines too.”

“What do you want from me, Hana?” he asked quietly, the fight suddenly draining out of him. “You want me to pretend I’m someone I’m not?”

“I want… I wanted the man I married. The one who cared, who had dreams."

“Then maybe,” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper, “it’s time to stop pretending.”

As Gojou stood there running a hand through his hair. Hana paused, her expression shifting from something resigned to something wounded.

“And there’s one more thing."

He looked at her, brow furrowing. “Fucking Christ Hana, what now?”

“Do you think I’m stupid, Satoru?” she asked, folding her arms tightly across her chest. “I know what’s out there. The rumors. The whispers about who you’re with when you’re not here. Or maybe you think I don’t hear them.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Hana, they’re just rumors. You know how the press is—they’ll twist anything for a story.”

“Twist what, exactly? Why do they have something to twist in the first place?”

“They don’t have anything. It’s just the media looking for something to make people read. Speculation sells.”

“Right. Speculation. But funny how it’s always about you, always linked to another woman.”

“That’s because I’m under a microscope. People love to create scandals, especially with someone like me. And you know that better than anyone.”

“It’s not just them, Satoru. People talk, and it’s not just baseless gossip. I’m not naive. I hear things from people close to you, people who actually know you.”

“You really believe them? You think I’m out there, risking everything for some—” He stopped himself, biting his tongue.

“Do I? I don’t even know my own husband anymore. Maybe I should ask them. Or maybe I should ask you directly, Satoru. Are you seeing someone?”

“Why are we even doing this?”

“Because I want the truth. Just once. I deserve that much, don’t I?”

“Believe what you want, Hana. I don’t have anything else to say.”

“Then maybe that’s all I need to know.”

Gojou stormed out of his apartment, his hands clenching and unclenching as he tried to shake off his frustration. He'd had enough for one night. His heart was pounding and the last thing he wanted was to be alone with his thoughts. He needed to get out, to drown the anger with something that could at least help him forget.

The bar he found was tucked away down a dim side street in Shibuya. It wasn't anything fancy–a dark cry from the glitzy nightlife he was used to–but it was dark and quiet which was exactly what he needed. He slid onto a bar stool and motioned for a drink, not bothering to pay attention to what the bartender poured.

He sipped his drink in silence, trying to tune out the night and all the noise in his head. The alcohol burned down his throat, but it was a welcome distraction that numbed his anger and frustration. He was almost on his third drink when he noticed someone sitting in the corner of the room, hunched over a notebook, tapping her pen against her cheek in thought.

She's cute, he thought to himself. He squinted trying to get a better look at the young woman, and he immediately recognized, it was you.

Of all the places he'd expect to see you, this shitty bar wasn't one of them. You looked so absorbed in your work, like you were piecing together something for a story. Satoru's curiosity got the better of him, and he stood up carrying his drink as he made his way over to where you were sitting.

"Well, well," he said, leaning against the back of the chair across from you. “Didn’t peg you for a bar rat, but maybe I was wrong.”

Your head snapped up, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Gojou Satoru. What a surprise.”

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, already taking the seat.

“Didn’t think someone like you would end up in a place like this. Celebrating?”

He gave a dry laugh, swirling the glass in his hand. “Something like that.”

“So, what are you doing here, really? Figured you’d be at a fancy cafe, writing about some important news story.”

“Maybe I am. Research is research, even if it’s in a bar. Maybe it’s you I’m writing about.”

“So I’m your new project, huh?”

“Maybe. It’s part of this little journalism course I’m doing. We’re supposed to pick a public figure and write a profile. Someone who’s got a… colorful public image.”

“Colorful, huh?” He smirked. “Guess I’m your lucky target. Hope I make an interesting subject."

“Interesting is one word for it,” you replied, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “What’s got you so quiet tonight? I thought you’d be surrounded by fans somewhere.”

He shrugged, taking a long sip of his drink. “Not in the mood for fans tonight.”

“Tough race?”

He laughed humorlessly, shaking his head. “Not the race. Just… life, I guess.”

“So,” he said, leaning in. “tell me about this little journalism course. You planning to make a career out of stalking poor drivers like me?”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. We’re learning how to ‘uncover the truth’—or at least, that’s what they say. So far, it’s been a lot of digging through archives and learning to ask the right questions.”

“Right questions, huh?” He arched an eyebrow. “Let’s hear one. What would you ask me, if I were your ‘colorful public figure’?”

“Alright, Gojou. How does someone at the top of their game manage to keep it all together? All the races, the publicity, the pressure… don’t you ever feel like it’s too much?”

“Honestly?” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away. “Sometimes, yeah. It’s not as easy as it looks, being the guy everyone thinks has it all together. But people don’t care about that part. They just want the show.”

“So you put on the show.”

“Guess that’s what it comes down to.” He laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his own ears. “People don’t want to see a guy crack under pressure. They want the image.”

“But what do you want?”

No one ever asked him that, as if what he wanted didn’t matter.

“What do I want?” he repeated, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he tried to dodge the question. “Maybe another drink.”

I’m serious. Behind all of that… what’s left?”

“Honestly? Sometimes I don’t even know anymore. It’s like I’ve been going so fast for so long, I can’t remember what it was I was chasing in the first place.”

“Maybe that’s what you need to figure out, then.”

He looked at you, and the faintest trace of a genuine smile broke through. “Maybe.”

The two of you sat in silence, and he found himself grateful for it. You didn't press or pry at him and he thought that he could just be himself, even if it was just for a little while.

“Alright,” he said finally, nudging your notebook with his finger. “So, future journalist, you really gonna write all this down? Make me sound like some tortured artist?”

You smirked. “I’ll try to be kind. Maybe I’ll even leave out the part where you go to bars alone and pretend to be mysterious.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, holding up his drink in mock surrender. “Noted. But I expect a copy when it’s published. Autographed, obviously.”

“Obviously,” you replied, laughing as you clinked your glass against his. “But don’t expect it to be flattering.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As the conversation continued, Gojou found himself leaning in closer. You both let the drinks keep coming, though it was less about how much alcohol you were consuming and more about the way the words spilled more easily between you two.

“So,” you asked, taking another sip of your drink, “what’s it actually like out there? Everyone sees the fame, the money, the cars, but… what’s it really like?”

He exhaled, tapping his fingers on the edge of his glass. “Honestly? It’s… intense. There’s this high to it, this adrenaline. Nothing like it. You’re pushing yourself and everyone around you to the edge," he tilted his head. “But sometimes, it feels like the line between winning and crashing out isn’t as thick as people think. You cross it once, and that’s it—you’re done.”

“Doesn’t that scare you?”

“A little. But I’m more afraid of what happens if I stop. It’s like… I don’t know what I’d be without it. Guess that sounds stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t. I get it. When something’s all you know… giving it up is like giving up a part of yourself. Scary as hell.”

“Exactly. Guess we all have our addictions, huh?”

Shit. Did he say too much?

You didn’t push, just gave him a quiet nod. “So, what’s Tokyo Jujutsu like? It's one of the toughest team on the grid, right?”

“You know it. They’re tough as hell, no room for error. And they sure as hell won’t give you a second chance if you mess up.”

“Sounds brutal."

“Yeah, maybe. I guess I like the challenge. Or maybe I just like proving people wrong.”

“Enough about me," he continued. What about you? What’s the deal with this journalism project? Are you trying to make a name for yourself by exposing all my secrets?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, my goal in life isn’t to ruin yours. I actually think it’s fascinating, learning what drives people, what keeps them going, even when things get messy.”

“Messy? What makes you think my life is messy?”

“Oh, please. Gojou Satoru’s life is one headline after another. You’re practically the poster boy for drama.”

He feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me. I’m just a guy trying to make a living, you know?”

“Right,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Just a guy who happens to have a dozen scandals and an equal number of speeding tickets.”

“Hey,” he laughed, leaning back in his chair. “I’m a professional, okay? That’s all part of the job.”

The two of you continued to chat into the night. Gojou found himself relaxing, caught up in the rare comfort of talking with someone who didn’t expect him to play a part. He could just… be.

At some point, the bartender announced last call, and Gojou glanced at you, smirking. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You stretched, gathering your notebook and tucking it under your arm. “Thanks for the, uh, ‘research material.’ It was… enlightening.”

He laughed, standing and grabbing his coat. “Anytime. But don’t go making me look like a complete asshole in your little project, alright?”

“No promises."

Outside, the air was crisp as he faint hum of city traffic the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slid his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

Outside, the air was crisp as the faint him of the city being the only sound as you stood together on the quiet street. Gojou slide his hands into his pockets, looking at you.

“Maybe we’ll run into each other again."

“Only if you’re brave enough to handle more questions.”

“Oh, I’m plenty brave. But we’ll see if you’re as good at digging as you think.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing as you turned to leave, throwing him a casual wave. “Goodnight, Mr. Gojou.”

“Goodnight,” he echoed, watching as you disappeared down the empty street.

In that moment he realized, he never did catch your name.

© satorulovebot 2024 please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my work.

[freeabortionslol]

being best friends with the hughes and jack having always been in love with her and everyone knows but her. they finally get together and when jack tell everyone’s no one’s believes him and thinks he joking

okay...so i may have done like way too much plot for this but I honestly cant help myself. i also don't know if this was a request for a fic or a text but I wrote a fic (oops drop it in my inbox if you wanted it as a text and I'll do it)

it's nice to have a friend(jack hughes x bsf!reader)

summary: fluff! pining (from jack ofc), bsfs to lovers, luke being an absolute child, basically jack picking you up on a rescue misson

warnings!! cursing, kissing

wc: 3k

“Y/n L/n drunk and crying on the curb. You’re in your element.” Jack smiled at you out the passenger window from the driver's seat. You had been out with your friends for a girls night. It was supposed to be fun and you were supposed to let loose, but instead you found yourself chasing your wasted friends around all night. You were too busy making sure they wouldn’t do anything stupid to have any fun of your own. When you went to the bar to get a drink you turned around and they were gone. They left you by yourself in the city in the middle of the night, and being scared to ride in an Uber alone, you decided to call your best friend, Jack.

“I’m not drunk, asshole. I’m barely even tipsy.” You got up to stand, walking towards the car door, hopping in with one swift motion. You climbed into the seat, slamming the door behind you, and crossing your arms. Jack’s gaze lingered over you for a moment watching your misery which he hated more than anything. He graced you with an empathetic half smile before turning his hazards off and driving the car back onto the road. 

He sighed deeply, turning the radio down slightly “What happened?” he asked softly.

“Maria and Chloe left me in the bar alone. Some creep was all over me at the bar and I guess they assumed I was good with him.” You sniffled out, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “I spent the whole night chasing them around.” Jack placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it comfortingly. “I just wanted one night of my own to let loose and have fun.” You flailed your arms in the air letting tears escape your eyes. 

“Hey, the night is still young.” You turned your head to look over at him, noticing how perfect his jawline looked through the street lights. “We can still have fun. Luke’s staying with Quinn in Vancouver. We'll hang out just the two of us like old times.” Jack’s words settled in, and you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Despite the situation, he always knew how to lift your spirits.

You glanced over to him, letting out a deep breath. “Yeah? Sure you’re up for it? It’s already almost one.”

Jack scoffed playfully and squeezed your shoulder. “Of course I am. You’re my favorite person and we can’t have you sad on a Saturday evening.” 

The drive back to the apartment was silent for the most part. You watched out the window, the familiar streets making you feel more at ease. You and Jack walked through the apartment complex in silence, watching as he fiddled for his keys in his pocket. You stepped through the door, letting the scent of the cinnamon candle fill your nose. You felt almost immediately at ease as you flopped onto Jack’s bed, letting his soft duvet entrap your body.

“Get out of my bed.” Jack laughed, pulling you up by your arm.

“Why? I’m so tired.” You pouted, giving him puppy eyes.

“You know the rule, no outside clothes in my bed. No makeup either, you’ll get it on the white sheets.” Jack smiled as he walked over to his dresser, pulling out a devils t-shirt and a pair of boxers for you to wear.

“Nuh uh. Your dick has been in those.” You crossed your arms, glaring at Jack who had the clothes in hand.

“They’ve been washed. Don’t get your panties in a twist.” He threw them over to you.

“Correction, don’t get these Jack Hughes gray Calvin Klein boxers in a twist.” You said, making your way towards the bathroom. You slipped your sweaty black dress off your body, stealing some of Jack’s deodorant before pulling the shirt over your head. You took a moment to stare at yourself in the mirror, analyzing everything that had gone wrong tonight. You felt a small sense of betrayal from your friends as sadness crept up on you. You wondered what kind of friend would leave you alone in a bar with some random man in the middle of the night with no ride home. Jack would never do that, no he would’ve never let the guy get within two feet of you. Suddenly relief washed over you, realizing that you were safe at Jack’s house and not sleeping on the floor of Chloe’s apartment. He wanted nothing more than to make you comfortable, though you couldn’t tell why. You pulled the boxers up and began carefully wiping your makeup off with the neutrogena makeup wipes that Jack kept at his place for you. You started to glance around the bathroom noticing that he kept a lot of things here for you. You always knew they were there because you used them, but you never really took attention to the gesture. You looked down at the sink seeing your pink toothbrush, whitening strips, cerave face wash, and your expensive mouthwash he knows you like. You turned your head to the back of the toilet where Jack had put various feminine products in glass containers. You glanced at the shelves in the shower at your shampoo, conditioner, sugar scrub, shaving cream, and your razor. That’s a lot of things that cost a good bit of money. You thought to yourself, this place screams “I have a girlfriend” do girls not notice these when they come over? Come to think of it, Jack’s never really mentioned girls around you. You knew he had them of course from Luke and Quinn, but you never bothered to ask him thinking it may cross a line. You however, spent endless hours talking his ear off about your male conquests. Guys from work, home, bars, hinge, you name him and Jack’s heard about him.

“You good in there?” Jack knocked on the door.

“Y-yeah i’m alright just finishing taking off my makeup.” You replied, his voice breaking your trance.

“Just making sure you didn’t pass out.” You couldn’t see him, but you could sense his sly smile through his voice.

“I’m not drunk, Jack!” You shouted, kicking the door which resulted in several giggles from him. You wiped the final streak of eyeliner off your face and made your way out of the bathroom. You immediately caught sight of Jack lounging on the bed in his sweatsuit, computer in his lap. He looked up from the screen to subtly stare at you in his clothes. His eyes softening at the sight of you, his shirt fit comically large around your frame, but it was perfect to him in some way.

“Gonna keep staring at me like some fuckin’ weirdo?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

He scoffed, “Sit down, pretty girl.” He scooched over so you could lay beside him, your shoulders brushing against each other as you took your spot.

“No, pretty girl left a few seconds ago when I took off my makeup.” You turned your face slightly to look at him. A smile was already growing across his face.

“Impossible. There’s one looking at me right now.” The two of you held your gaze for a few moments, neither of you sure what to do next. Your heart began to pound as you thought of the possibility of him kissing you. You quickly turned your face towards the laptop screen.

“So what are we watching?” You cleared your throat, your head finding its place to rest on his shoulder.

“Not one of those stupid romcoms you like.” You smacked his shoulder playfully and scoffed.

“You love those movies!” 

“Wrong. I liked Ten Things I Hate About You.”

“So, that's the pick?” Jack groaned, throwing his head back.

“Fine! But no crying.” He started typing the movie into the search engine, clearly pretending to grumble about it. You settled against him, head on his shoulder, letting yourself sink into his skin as the movie started. His arm wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you tried to distract yourself from the way his thumb absentmindedly traced patterns along your arm. You could feel him stealing glances of you as the movie went on, his head shifting slightly. You felt the warmth of his gaze and couldn’t help to sneak a few back, each one resulting in a smirk or a soft laugh from him. It was enough to make your heart race. As the poem scene began playing, you couldn’t help but let tears fall. You shifted to wipe your eyes, feeling silly but not caring.

Jack chuckled, pulling you in closer, his voice low and teasing “I thought we agreed no crying.”

“Shut up.” You mumbled, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I’ve seen it so many times, but it just gets me y’know?”

He rested his chin on your head, giving you a gentle squeeze. Your heart thudded as he pulled back slightly to look down at you, his face closer than ever, his blue eyes scanning your expression trying to read your thoughts. You felt a rush of courage and held his gaze, feeling the redness rise to your cheeks. Finally, Jack spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Y’know you don’t need makeup for me. You’re perfect the way you are.” You blinked, catching your breath as his words sunk in. He brushed a strand of hair from your face and before you could think twice, you found yourself leaning in to close the gap between the two of you. Maybe it was the confidence of the alcohol, but that had almost entirely worn off. Jack’s eyes flickered with something unspoken as he met you halfway, his lips pressing softly to yours for a lingering kiss. The two of you held the kiss for a moment, his teeth subtly biting your bottom lip gently. His hand moved to cup the back of your head, as yours moved to his arm. The kiss intensified in an instant, releasing every amount of tension that kept it hidden for so long. You both pulled back, foreheads resting against each other, each of you breathless. He stole one last kiss, before pulling away entirely, smiles growing slowly as the realization hit.

“I love you.” He cooed out, his hand still resting on the back of your head. You let out a soft laugh, moving to rest your forehead in the crook of his neck, wrapping your arms around his body.

“I love you too, Jacky.” He quickly moved his hands to wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer to his body, letting the scent of your perfume entrap him. Your legs were tangled, letting yourself drift off to sleep as the tv played softly in the background, neither of you watching any longer. Jack waited until you were asleep before moving you over, so he could spoon you letting himself breathe. He pulled his phone from the nightstand with his freehand to text his brothers about tonight's victory.

Jack: Guys I did it. She’s mine. Told her I loved her.

Luke: Who?

Jack: Y/n

Quinn: HAHA no way

Jack: Yes way

Luke: No. Number one you're too much of a little bitch to ever tell her, two she would never ACTUALLY go for you.

Quinn: As much as I want you to go for it, you never would

Jack: I DID I SWEAR

Luke: Yeah okay pal cya tomorrow

The night was peaceful, you and Jack were wrapped in each other throughout your sleep. The morning light was harsh on your eyes which Jack took notice of, and got up from the bed to close the blinds. You subtly shifted your body onto the pillow at the sense of Jack’s absence. He chuckled softly and moved his way to the kitchen to start preparing breakfast. Luke was coming home today with Quinn alongside him. He didn’t expect to have you over last night, but my goodness was he happy about it. Jack began mixing batter in a bowl for the pancakes, letting his mind drag him to the memory of you sound asleep next to him in his bed. He wanted every night to be that way. He glanced over to his door hoping that maybe you would stumble out of his room, but he knew you were tired from the night before. He was in the middle of flipping a pancake when he heard the front door open, followed by the familiar voices of his brothers. 

“Guess who's back!” Luke shouted, walking into the apartment, throwing his bag on the couch. “Ooh! Pancakes!” Luke ran to the kitchen trying to get in Jack’s way, to which he responded by pulling the plate of finished pancakes out of Luke’s grasp.

“Uh uh! Go wash your hands first.” Luke groaned and made his way to the closest bathroom, which was Jack’s.

“You’re such a mom.” Quinn remarked, taking a seat at a barstool. “Funny joke last night, but seriously you need to tell Y/n how you feel. Even if she doesn’t feel the same, it’ll at least stop you from following her around like a lovesick puppy.” Jack slammed the stack of pancakes on the counter, pulling out four plates instead of three which Quinn didn’t take notice of.

“I’m not joking. I actually did it.” Jack scoffed.

“Uh huh sure, and I quit my job last night.” Quinn laughed out as Jack sent him a middle finger. The scene was quickly interrupted by Luke storming out of Jack’s room, running towards the kitchen. “Woah, Luke. Slow down.” Luke was panting, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath from the run he just took.

“There's…A…” He took deep breaths before every word.

“There’s a what?” Quinn questioned, pulling a pancake from the pile onto his plate.

“There’s a girl in Jack’s bed.” He panted out. Quinn’s eyes widened, immediately shifting his gaze to Jack who was smirking.

“So mr I confessed my love to Y/n last night has a girl in his bed?” Jack threw his head down at the stupidity of his brother. “Knew you were lyin”

“WHO DO YOU THINK THE GIRL IS?” Jack yelled, a wide smile across his face. Luke’s mouth dropped immediately, forgetting about the pancakes he ran back to Jack’s room, Quinn following close behind. Luke didn’t think twice before jumping on the bed throwing his body over yours. You awakened in an instant, you rubbed your eyes and looked up to Luke who was wearing a sly smile. 

“Gross Luke. How much axe body spray did you put on?” You groaned out, your eyes still not fully opened.

“No! Gross Y/n. You kissed our brother!” Quinn stated as he moved his way onto the bed, lying down next to you, propping himself up on his elbows. You squinted your eyes, trying to find the strength to keep them open. 

“She’s in his bed, they definitely did more than kissing.” Luke laughed out and you sent him a hit to the shoulder.

“Get off me you asshole!” You pushed Luke off, climbing your way out of the bed and towards Jack's dresser. 

“After all this time I can’t believe he actually did it.” Quinn let out with a chuckle as you pulled one of Jack’s hoodies from the drawer.

“What are you talking about?” You said pulling the hoodie over your head.

“Dude, Jack’s been in love with you since like seventh grade.” Luke shifted his position to the edge of the bed as you turned to face him.

“Are you serious?” You squinted your eyes, crossing your arms.

“Are you kidding? You never knew? He made it so painfully obvious.” Quinn chuckled, throwing his head back slightly. You stood there still processing what Quinn said, your heart pounding at the revelation. Jack had been in love with you since seventh grade? How did you miss that? All those little gestures, every time he was always there when you needed him, the way he’d listened to you talk about every guy you dated, even if you could sense his slight discomfort. It all made sense now.

Luke, still lounging on the bed, watched your reaction with a mischievous grin, “So do you like him back, or was last night just some…experimental sleepover?”

“Luke, stop. It’s- complicated.” You turned your head trying to hide your blush, knowing damn well that it wasn’t complicated. You just didn’t want to have this conversation with Jack’s teasing brothers who just so happened to be your best friends.

“Complicated?! He literall-” Luke started but was cut off by Jack walking in the room looking mildly confused and a bit exasperated.

“Hey hey! Let’s not harass Y/n right when she wakes up.” 

Quinn laughed and stood up, clapping Jack on the back. “Look, lover boy, we're just helping her process the last decade of weird repressed feelings the two of you have. She had no idea how obvious you were being.”

Jack turned pink, giving you an embarrassed smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I wasn’t that obvious.” he mumbled, but you could see a hint of vulnerability in his eyes.

You stepped forward, reaching for his hand. “Actually you might have been, and I…I might’ve been really bad at picking up the hints.” You laughed softly, squeezing his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm on yours.

“Finally!” Quinn groaned out, Luke flopping himself back into the bed.

“Now we don’t have to watch you guys be grossly oblivious to each other anymore.”

Jack rolled his eyes slightly, keeping his gaze on you, a gentle smile on his face. “You wanna go for this?”

“Absolutely.” You nodded, heart pounding with happiness. Jack pulled you into his arms, planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Good. Because I wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon.”

Luke groaned loudly from the bed, interrupting the moment. “You guys are disgusting. Breakfast is getting cold.” You and Jack let out a subtle laugh before walking to the kitchen, hand in hand.

[pboogerswbb]

a lil teaser... sooooo you guys want this or no?

it's Paige x reader

also toxic!paige warning lol

-

“Been missing you y’know-” Paige starts but I interrupt, knowing she had the tendency to talk herself right into my bed.

“Told you I never wanted to talk to you again, remember?” I say hating how shaky my voice sounds.

“Baby c’mon, you weren’t serious about that,” her hoarse voice filled with amusement.

“What, the screaming didn’t seem serious to you?” I sigh my eyes strictly on the road. Paige let’s out a chuckle and leans forward on the car seat.

“Ion remember non of that, just remember how bad I wanted to fuck that attitude out of you,” she chuckles and the car drifts off the lane for just a moment as i slap her only half seriously across the chest. I pull over on the road, parking the car. She was amused and it was pissing me off, bad.

“Get out,” I tell Paige sternly, rage and annoyance swirling inside me. She had no right to be making light of the situation. Not after how bad she had hurt me.

Paige lets out a laugh. “Man you’re crazy,” she tells me turning to face me. I face her too, the anger turning my cheeks even brighter. 

“I’m fucking serious. Get out,” I repeat my voice rising a little but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Paige just chuckles and shakes her head.

“KK always telling me I pick the crazy ones, I’m thinking she’s right,” Paige groans, not taking any initiative to get out of my car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and groan, leaning over Paige manspreading on the passenger seat, reaching for her door as she grabs my wrist, my face so close to hers I could smell the alcohol on her breath. The air in the car shifts, my annoyance turning into something that made my legs feel weak, as she licks her lips, her eyes on me. “M sorry ok,” Paige says, her voice low and hoarse now.

I fold, once again.

“I don’t wanna hear a word from you, mmkay?” I say with a sigh, clearing my throat and pulling back from her before I made some really, really bad choices. Paige's let's go of my wrist, her grip leaving my skin tingling.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige grins, satisfied by the effect she had on me.

I start the car and in silence we drive back to campus, the streets quiet on the dark Tuesday night. Paige fiddles with the zipper of her hoodie, her nimble fingers needing something to do - always looking for something to toy with. 

I tried to shake the feeling of each cell in my body screaming for her, needing to feel her skin against mine. I knew we weren’t good for each other. She wasn’t good for me. Part of me wished she came to tell me she’s done fucking around. That I’m all she wants, better than all the countless other girls that spent nights in her bed. That I was different, special. Worth letting everyone else go for. Frankly, even if she told me all those things, each word I wanted to hear, I wouldn’t believe her. 

When you were with Paige, it never felt like you were one of many though. She knew how to make you feel like you were the only one. It was in the way her blue eyes roamed my face, in the whine of her voice - like she would die if she didn’t have me. She’d remember your favourite movie and your mother’s name and the way you liked your coffee. All just to go see some other bitch later and repeat the same routine with her. Even with the girls she fucked, she had to be the best. Not because they meant anything, but because that’s who she had to be - the best. A winner.

[babygorewhore]

Cherry flavored.

Best friend Rafe Cameron x curvy!fem reader

Rafe is your best friend since kindergarten. Even though you’re opposites, including being the daughter of a preacher, you still are inseparable. But one day he invites you to a pool party and you find out his dirty little secret.

Hiiiiii this was inspired by talking to @starkeysprincess @rafeyscurtainbangs and @bloodibambiidoll thank you my loves and I hope you enjoy!! Dividers are by @cxrrodedcoffin I also wanted to make the reader curvy/plus sized from a request from an anon!

Warnings! Perv rafe! Panty stealing! Preachers daughter reader! Talks of bad body image! Mention of partying! Male masturbation! Size kink! Oral fem receiving! Inexperienced reader! Choking! Unprotected sex! Daddy kink! Cum play! Multiple orgasms! Pussy slapping! Degrading! Praise! Talk of male oral!

“You’re being so dramatic.” Rafe repeated as he drove you home. You glared at him and smacked his arm lightly. Even intoxicated, you still tossed back his sassy attitude.

You didn’t party often. Usually you were too busy working or studying part time college courses. When you also weren’t helping your pastor father conduct activities for church.

You and Rafe were lifelong best friends. Ever since kindergarten in the private school, when you slapped him across the face for stealing your box of crayons. You two were a funny pair. The preachers daughter, a single inexperienced girl who was insecure with Kook King Rafe with the successful family. Rafe was always pushing you to let loose. Stop being so rigid and tonight you listened. But you drank way too much and now you had a pounding headache.

Rafe pulled up to your house, sighing as you dug through your purse against your plush thighs. The skirt was still covering the meat of your legs. You searched for pain relief pills and took them with the bottle of water. Quirking an eyebrow, you met his stare that was focused on your clothing.

“What are you looking at?”

Rafe snorted and leaned his head back against the seat. “You know just because you’re a Jesus freak, doesn’t mean you have to dress like the Virgin Mary.”

That made you pinch his exposed skin and he chuckled.

“How do you expect to get laid when you wear that shit? Dress like a normal girl. Cross and all.” Rafe reached over and tugged lightly at your necklace. You let him, feeling the warmth from his fingers radiate on your flesh.

“Newsflash Rafe, guys don’t like girls who look like me. And it’s better that I accept that. I don’t need anyone telling me that I look bad when I know that.”

“That’s your problem, babe. You have no confidence. You’re hot and everyone sees that. But you gotta believe it.”

It wasn’t the first time Rafe said this to you but the alcohol stirred a forbidden fire between your thighs. You hid it by looking away.

“Thanks for the ride home.”

Rafe shrugged. “Aight. See you later.”

Rafe felt like a fucking virgin as he tugged at his dick with your panties when he got home. His eyes squeezing shut and cum coating his hand as he imagined your angelic body bouncing on it. He wanted to squeeze your curves, lick and kiss every inch of your body. Rafe wanted to selfishly devour your pussy for not only your pleasure but his own. He wanted to hear your moans and how he affected you.

He wanted to see your lips wrapped around his cock and tongue licking up what you caused.

He’d always found you attractive. And he hated being a stereotype of falling for his best friend.

But goddamn he wanted you. If only his pride didn’t get in the way from grabbing your pretty little face and kissing you tonight.

When he spilled his load into your panties, he groaned and cleaned himself off shortly after. Rafe was texting you, a normal activity even though you had to get up early.

He invited you to a pool party at his loft. It made him angry to think of other men enjoying your presence but any excuse to get you here he’d take it. He also bought you a swimsuit. A bikini.

Did he only know your size because he snuck into your room to steal panties? Yeah but that was between him and God.

Rafe responded by insisting he wanted you there and you finally agreed. And would wear the swimsuit. His dick twitched when you sent him a selfie of you pouring over your Bible, especially since you weren’t wearing a bra.

You held onto the wrap that covered your body as you navigated the large apartment. You’d been to Rafe’s house hundreds of times despite your father’s clear distain for him. Rafe didn’t usually step foot into the church. But he picked you up again today. You’d explained you couldn’t find some of your items and he seemed a little too suspiciously concerned.

You’d changed into the gifted swimsuit after Sunday service. But wore a black covering over it. Your silver cross dangled above your breasts as you sat on a lounge chair. Rafe’s friends swam, drank and meandered as he came out. He was shirtless, wearing a SnapBack and exposing his muscular body.

That same secret sensation came over you watching your best friend greet people. He clapped Topper on the back. His smile cocky as he showed off his workout gains. You pressed your thighs together, shoving down any reaction as he caught your eye.

Rafe disappeared when he brought you both here, apparently to change. He sauntered over to you and gave you a body scan. “Nah, come on. What’s that shit? Take it off.”

You gripped it tighter and pressed your back against the chair. “No. It’s too revealing.”

Rafe rolled his eyes and squinted at you. “Sweetheart, it’s a pool party. Pretty sure everyone here is half naked. Take it off. Show off what I bought you.”

You remained still and Rafe wasn’t pleased by your stubbornness. You shrieked as he hauled you up, his arms scooping underneath your legs and your hands clutched his shoulders.

“Put me down, asshole!”

Rafe chuckled as you squirmed. “That’s what happens when you don’t wanna listen, sweets.” With a wink, he jumped into the pool. He brought you above water, watching in an unreadable expression at the sight of your coverup falling.

The water dripped as you wiped your eyes, moving your hair back. Your tits bounced at your movement, neck exposed fully as you worked to the edge of the pool. The bikini would absolutely show most of your ass if you got out.

“Rafe! I’m gonna punch you in the face, fucker!” You growled and splashed him. Rafe caught your hand, pulling you closer and pressed you against him.

“Now is that any way to act around your best friend? Doesn’t the Bible say to treat your friends well?” He teased and his hands settled on your hips.

Your pulse raised but you tried to keep your composure. “Yeah but just because I follow Christ doesn’t mean I can’t swing on you.” You offered and he smirked. “Especially when you jump into the pool with me! You could have snapped your spine.”

Rafe scoffed. “I know for a fact you didn’t insult me like that. I lifted you just fine, didn’t I? I could beat your ass if I wanted to. Easily.”

You pushed at his chest, making him take a step back. “I’d like to see you try, blondie.”

He licked his teeth and nodded. You narrowed your eyes as you knew that look. He was plotting something. Splashes from the guests made you turn your head briefly but you felt Rafe’s hands return to your body. His fingers tightening on your skin, pressing into the plush flesh of your waist.

“You know, you have one hell of a slick mouth. Shame you don’t put it to better use.”

Your jaw dropped at his words. Rafe hadn’t really hinted at something like that between you. He never really indicated anything past surface level acknowledgement of your features. But now, his blue eyes drank in the sight of you. Especially on your tits that the swimsuit hugged.

“Rafe, come on bro! Quit eye fucking your best friend and get your ass over here!” Someone called and you took the interruption as the key to move back.

You climbed out of the pool, fully showing your curves under the sun with water glistening. Turning, you saw Rafe looking at your body. Immediately you crossed your arms, grabbed a towel and rushed back inside the house.

You went into Rafe’s room with a sigh. You’d borrow one of his shirts before so you knew he wouldn’t mind if you did again. Opening his drawer, you gasped.

Several pairs of your panties were there. Coated in white. Crumpled up. Your mouth hung as you also saw photos you’d both taken together. A sample of your perfume.

“Fucking pervert…” You whispered with wide eyes. You threw on a tshirt, feeling it comfortably around your body.

You covered your lips, shock overwhelming you. Rafe was stealing your underwear. Acting so innocent around you after. How long had this been going on?

You sat on his bed, trying to collect your thoughts. Readying for asking him when he inevitably comes in.

You didn’t realize you fell asleep until you snapped your eyes open at the sound of the door closing. Rafe smoothed his hair back, shorts damp.

He opened his mouth to speak but no words came when he saw the open drawer. You didn’t know what to expect. Rafe licked his lips, apparently scrambling for an explanation.

“Rafe, why did you take my panties?”

He straightened his back. “Because I wanted to. What other reason would I?” His response surprised you in honesty.

“I didn’t think you liked me like that.” You answered and he frowned.

“Why wouldn’t I? I mean yeah we’re best friends but don’t be naive.” You rolled your eyes at his flippancy.

“Naive? Rafe, you’ve never said anything. And then I find you’ve been stealing and jerking off with my panties. Like a pervert.”

He stepped forward and crossed over to you quickly. Rafe grabbed the collar of the shirt and tugged.

“Calling me a pervert, huh? Don’t act like you don’t like the idea of me fucking my fist to the thought of you. Don’t act all innocent, cherry.” You swatted his hand.

“Don’t joke, Rafe. A guy like you doesn’t like a girl like me and don’t pretend.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Rafe asked and dropped his fingers.

“I’m not skinny! I’m not like the other girls you’ve fucked or anything. I can’t even swim at a party because I’m too embarrassed of myself. It would be…weird for anyone to see you like me.” You gestured to your body and held out your hands. “I have half a mind to think you’re pranking me right now. No way a guy like you would fuck a girl like me.”

Before you had a chance to insult yourself further, Rafe’s large hands cupped your face and smashed your lips together. You made a noise of surprise, his mouth moving against yours deeply as his right palm slid down your back. He sucked your lower lip, nipping lightly with his teeth.

Rafe walked you back to the bed, his tongue memorizing your mouth as the back of your knees hit the mattress. He pulled back, inches away.

“I don’t wanna hear that talk outta you. Especially since your tits are barely covered under my shirt. I wanna defile the little preachers daughter.”

His dirty words made you whimper and Rafe brushed your cheek with his thumb.

“Cmon. You know it’s perfect. Your first time should be with me, your best friend.” He gave you a sly smile but you looked down.

“It’s not my first time but…”

Rafe lifted your chin, making you meet his eyes. “But what, cherry? Did the Guy bust his load too quick?”

“I didn’t cum. He just fucked me a few seconds and that’s it.” Your body heated with embarrassment and Rafe snarled.

“You know that doesn’t count.” He started to lift his shirt off you but you shifted. “I’ve been entertaining this long enough and I’m gonna make sure your little needy pussy gets what she needs.” Rafe yanked the material off, groaning at the sight of your breasts and body.

His warm palms cupped your chest, squeezing them as he pushed you on your back. The strings of the bikini started to come untied. He closed his lips around your nipple, sucking it. You whined, stomach clenching as Rafe nudged your legs apart.

“Mmm, needed this didn’t you, baby? Needed daddy to worship your pretty body?” He whispered and kissed down your stomach. You looked down at him shyly but Rafe’s eyes hardened with lust. He snapped the strings and peeled them off your thighs. Exposing your puffy cunt.

“Goddamn, princess. No wonder your dad wants to keep you locked up. Making me feel like a dog.” Rafe pushed your knees apart, spreading your folds and open mouth kissed your pelvis. You rolled your hips as he cupped your ass with a light smack.

“Mhm, yeah I’ve been wanting to taste this pussy. Even dreamed about it.” He licked a thick stripe over your clit and you shrieked. You knew it felt good but the way Rafe hungrily lapped at your cunt was unbelievable.

You couldn’t stay still, the way he buried his whole face. Sucking and spitting following with pressured motions with his tongue. He was fully tasting you. Your legs hugged his head but he held your knees further up. Spreading you as far as he could.

“Fuck, you taste so good, princess. So sweet for acting like a little slut. Mmm,” Rafe hummed as his dick grinds down on the bed. You were moaning and gripping his hair. It was overwhelming as he sucked your clit, licking the sensitive part selfishly.

“I-I’m gonna cum!” You wailed and Rafe nodded with a grunt. The uncoiling of your belly came undone with a violent shudder and tears blurred your vision. Your tits were aching as Rafe continued working you over.

He was torturing you, keeping you still as his mouth stuck to your pussy.

“Daddy, please! Please, please, I can’t-“ You begged and finally, he slowed down but traveled kisses up your torso. Rafe’s hands kneaded your ass, hips as he licked your pulse point.

“Yeah? Sweet girl can’t handle me licking your pussy? flavored like a cherry,” He taunted and slapped your pussy. You exclaimed when he pulled his shorts off, letting you see his dick.

He was big. Girthy and it leaked with precum. Your mouth watered and Rafe smirked.

“You wanna suck it? That’s cute, sweetheart. You wanna get on your knees like when you pray to your God? Too bad.” You protested but Rafe slapped your inner thighs.

“Whining isn’t gonna work right now, doll. You’re gonna cream on my dick before you suck it clean.” Rafe ran the tip along your slit, smearing cum along your entrance and slowly pushed in.

Alot of pressure pinched and your eyes widened. “Oh, it won’t fit! It won’t fit!” You babbled but Rafe growled. He held onto your hips, his thumbs almost bruising you.

“I’m not playing this little game. You can take it, oh that’s my girl. Atta girl, that’s what I like to see,” Rafe praised as your eyes rolled back, his thumb massaged your clit. “Being such a good little slut for daddy. Squeezing me like that.” Rafe thrusted deeply, his balls slapping and your mouth hung open.

“Right there, right there, daddy. Please, I’m your good girl.” You sobbed and Rafe’s hand wrapped around your throat. Not enough to hurt but your pussy fucking throbbed at how good it felt.

“Yeah. You’re my good girl. Mine. My pretty little whore taking my cock. Creaming on it like a champion. Acting so innocent under those ridiculous skirts.” Rafe gritted his teeth as you moaned louder and louder. He knew you’d be sensitive but this was better than any fantasy.

“Yeah, that’s right. You can do it. You can keep taking it. Take my dick, you little slut. Making me fuck myself with your panties too long.” Rafe gave you a particularly hard thrust and you screamed. Sending you over the edge and you cried. Your orgasm hit you so hard you almost went limp as he gripped the headboard with one hand. His other palm cupping your wrists and holding them above your head.

He kissed you with brute force as his cum spilled into you. Rafe humped you through it, sloppily making out with you as you silently panted. Your strength was leaving you as Rafe pulled out, jerking his cock and covering your tits with cum. Marking you. It was filthy, the way he licked it up after.

He hovered over you, examining your expression as you twitched with aftershock. Rafe pressed a kiss to your forehead, cheeks and nose. “You’re so pretty when you come. You’re a doll baby.” He smiled at you. Genuinely. You looked at him with half closed lids.

“So, you want to be my boyfriend?” You quietly asked and Rafe nodded.

“Yeah. I mean spraying you with cum kinda sealed the deal, baby.” Your cunt pulsed as he kissed your neck.

“I wanna taste you now.” You whispered and Rafe lifted his head. Lips glistening.

“Oh I don’t think you know what you’ve done. Now that I took it easy on you, I’m really gonna fuck you like a slut. Then you’re gonna wear your cum filled panties during church. So God can see who you really worship.”

Tagging: @cameronsprincess @sturnioloshacker @oceanblvd111 @oceandriveab @redhead1180 @gri959 @take-everything-you-can @decodedlvr @stillwjk-channie-lixie @webbluvrsugar @starkeysbabygirl

[squoxle]

[10] GOOD BOY ~ L.YB

needy!felix x horny!reader

plot: after waking up horny as fuck, you strike a deal with your best friend Felix that he can’t pass up… | wc: 1.4k | cw: smut, situationship, cuddling, tit sucking, pussy eating, kissing, pet name

Felix had called you over late last night, and even though you didn’t do anything, you ended up sleeping next to each other.

The two of you started a sexual relationship about 2 months ago after one too many drinks led his dick inside of you. You couldn’t say that you hated it, and that was the reason it kept going.

Even though you could agree that he was cute and sweet, a relationship was the last thing on your mind. All you wanted was sex. And you made that very clear. So you found it strange when he called you last night just to sleep with him.

You woke up to see him nuzzled into your chest with one hand reached under your shirt, cupping your tit.

Finding his plump pouty lips and peaceful countenance somewhat attractive, you turned your body in his direction, wrapping your arm around him to play with his shaggy blonde hair.

You watched as his eyes fluttered open from your touch. “G’morning,” he hummed.

“Morning,” you smiled gently as he pressed his nose against yours. You felt his hand give your tit a gentle squeeze before he retracted it.

“Sorry for calling you over so late last night…I just didn’t feel like being alone.”

“It’s okay,” you shrugged.

“Thanks for coming…I really appreciate that,” he smiled before pecking you on the lips. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick and I’ll be back, okay,” he pulled the cover off of his body, climbing out of bed, before walking down the hall.

You couldn’t understand why looking at him seemed to turn you on so much but all you could think about right now was watching his pretty face get pussy drunk for you.

You reached your hand between your legs before circling your clit. You touched yourself while keeping that thought in mind, you pulled your fingers back, spitting on them before pushing them through your entrance.

A little part of you felt guilty that you were pleasuring yourself in his bed when he didn’t seem to have any sexual intentions, but the horny demon inside of you wanted him more.

“Hey, what’d you want for breakfast? I’m cooki—“ Felix paused in the doorframe as he saw you on his bed, laying there biting your lip with a lustful expression on your face. Soft, breathy moans escaping your lips.

“C’mere,” you hummed, directing him with your gaze.

“What’re you doing,” he asked, knowing damn well what was going on underneath that blanket.

“I hope you didn’t think I was gonna leave without getting off at least once,” you bit your lip, catching a moan in your chest. You watched as he pulled the covers back to see your fingers buried deep in your pussy.

“Can I…uhm?” He stuttered.

“Yes,” you shook your head, pulling your fingers out as his replaced the spot. You brought your fingers to his lips as he sucked your juices off, moaning just from the taste.

You looked over the edge of the bed seeing his dick hardening through his pants. The sight made you even more horny as you watched him lick his lips. But it also gave you an idea.

You watched as he pulled his fingers out, sucking them before pushing them back inside of you. Just as he loosened the string on his sweatpants you stopped him. “Ah ah, since you didn’t fuck me last night, you don’t get to fuck me now.”

“B-but I—“

“Nope. I want you to get me off and if you do a really good job and make me cum, THEN I’ll let you fuck me,” you smiled.

“Hmm…okay,” he hummed before going under the covers to lick between your legs.

“Mmm,” you moaned at the textured sensation of his tongue. He climbed over you, hovering over you as your legs raised. He leaned in to kiss your lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth as he dry humped you, moaning as he satisfied himself and you at the same time.

As good as it felt, you had to keep him in line. You grabbed his chin, stopping him in his tracks. “What do you think you’re doing, huh? You’re supposed to get me off first and then it’ll be your turn. Not before.”

“I-I know but I just—“

“You were trying to find a loophole,” you chuckled as he pouted before raising his hips up.

“Spit in my mouth,” he hummed.

“What?”

“Spit in my mouth, please,” he opened his mouth, eagerly waiting for your saliva. Fuck, whenever he said please like that you just wanted to ride that pretty boy until he cums all inside your pussy.

Just the thought of feeling his body shake beneath you was enough to tell him to just use his dick right now.

But those weren’t the rules…

You spit onto his tongue as he pulled it into his mouth, crawling back between your legs before spitting directly on your clit.

You were using him to play out the fantasy in your head and it was turning out better than you expected.

He sucked on your clit, pulling his fingers in and out as wetness dropped down to the sheets. “Mmm, you’re so fucking wet,” he hummed as you felt the vibrations from his voice.

He pulled his fingers out, using his thumb to stimulate your clit as he slipped his tongue in. You felt it worm up inside of you as you threw your head back, moaning with pleasure.

“Do you like that?” He asked, licking your entrance.

“Mhm,” you nodded as he lowered his head and moved his tongue faster. “Uhnn, fuck baby,” you moaned. He moved his lips, pushing his fingers back in before raising your shirt to suck on your tit.

“Ngh!” You raised your chest as you felt yourself about to cum.

You felt the warm wetness of his lips sucking on the flesh of your chest as he fucked you harder and faster. A high-pitched whine escaped your lips as the feeling intensified. “Fuck, you sound so pretty,” Felix cooed from between your tits as he moved up to your neck.

“Please cum baby so I can fill your pretty little cunt and watch it drip out,” the way he was talking to you right now made you want to cum immediately, but you wanted to enjoy the feeling for a bit longer.

He lowered down as he gripped onto the outsides of your thighs. He squeezed them as you gripped onto his hair. His nose grazing your clit as he moaned with every lick.

You pulled his head up to see your release all over his face as he stuck his tongue back out before going down on you again. He kept eye contact with you as you moaned, cumming hard as your body shook.

He held your lower half in place as he kept licking and sucking your pussy to help you ride out your orgasm. “Good boy,” you patted his head as you caught your breath.

“Now can I fuck you?”

“Yes,” you chuckled as he quickly pulled his pants down, slamming his dick into your pussy.

He grunted as he pumped into you quickly, gripping your hips and raising them to angle your hole with his dick. He lowered your body back onto the mattress as he pressed onto your lower abdomen. You felt his dick going in and out of you as he panted with broken moans escaping his lips.

You couldn’t help but moan with him as he used you like a sex doll. He leaned forward, pulling your legs back and fucking deeper into your throbbing cunt. He whined as he came inside you, pumping faster as he filled you up.

You pushed his cum out, causing it to drip down your ass as he pulled out. He plopped down next to you as the two of you laid next to each other.

“_____,” he called your name.

“What?”

“Can I tell you something…”

“Sure.”

“I hope it doesn’t make you feel weird or anything…”

“Just say it already.”

“I can’t cum without you,” he lowered his gaze as you looked at him.

“What…”

“I don’t know why…I just can’t do it unless you’re here with me…”

You knew what this meant, but you didn’t want it to be true.

“I think it’s because…I like you…”

𝒦𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑀𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

@chlorinecake

@wonbinisbabygurl

@nishiimuranights

@wildflowermooon

@heeseungshim

@ramyeonzprincess

@bangchans-gf5

@wand3rlustm3

@heeseunghee7

@norihoyeon

@gacktsa

[vrystalius]

The demon that stole my heart

Ever since you finally met the demon that places a stolen gift on your nightstand, you began to build a relationship with the demon you found out was named Gyutaro.

Pairing: stalker!Gyutaro x oiran!fem!reader

Here’s part 1, The demon that steals jewerly for me.

(Implied sexual assault from clients)

The demon kept visiting you every night, despite being discovered by you, and you are glad, incredibly so. Although he may look sick, starved, disgusting even, the demon, whose name you found out to be Gyutaro, made you feel safe. You heard tales from your Lady and the other oirans of your establishments about how more and more beautiful women suddenly either disappear or end their lives seemingly out of nowhere.

You listened the rumours about these creatures, how they seemingly only pick the most beautiful, how they stalk them before breaking into their bedroom while they’re asleep to devour them, how they walk on the rooftops to find their next victim… You never believed those things. Besides, you had real threats to worry about; not getting paid enough, being pretty enough to keep your job and drunken men to fend off that try to take advantage of you.

The demon you met was nothing like the descriptions you heard. Gyutaro is shy, kind, soft. He is incredibly insecure about himself, about how he acts around you and how he looks. Your visitor knows that he is beautiful, quite the opposite, but in your eyes you strongly believe that he is beautiful. Not only visually, but also the way he acts. You can’t help but smile everytime he hesitantly hands you over a small pouch filled another treasure he had prepared for you, his fingers trembling and eyes nervously watching for your reaction. Seeing a smile spread on your face makes him feel so incredibly happy and grateful being able to even exist within your vicinity.

In Gyutaro’s eyes, you are a goddess. A blessing from the heavens, something he desperately needs to hide from his sister, or else she might get the idea of devouring you. He could not let that happen, ever. You are too pure for this like of work and it infuriates him everytime when he watches another costumer enter your bedroom, while he is forced to sit on top of a roof, silently listening and making sure that you are safe and not attacked in any way. Gyutaro scratches, rips and tears his skin apart in jealousy the whole time. You should not be defiled like this, you’re pure, ethereal and the embodiment of beauty. You don’t deserve to be with a demon like him, but even less to be used by these men.

Gyutaro was curled up into a ball, nuzzling his head against your thigh while you held him. Your hand was slowly brushing through his way, separating matted strands while he was relaxing under your touch, melting by your affection. You were still in your “work clothes”, a kimono in a soft colour with golden accents and seams. He felt how expensive it must’ve been by the feeling against his cheeks alone. He never wanted to approach or touch you in fear of staining you in some way with his aura alone, but after touching your palm for the first time, Gyutaro instantly got addicted to the forbidden fruit.

“Gyu, the sun will be up soon.”

The demon cuddling onto you groaned in annoyance, opening his eyes slowly to glance up at you. His lips were formed into a large pout.

“C-Can I stay? In yo-your closet?”

You were slightly taken back by his request and gave him a small smile. You placed a gentle kiss on his nose, right onto his black marks. You know that your demon is protective of you, perhaps a little too much, but hiding in your closet while you serve clients might be a little too much. Besides, he’ll probably wont be able to bear listening to you and either scratch all his skin open, nearly skinning himself alive, or murder your client on the spot. You can’t let that happen, despite how much you hate being in the line of your work.

“No, people will notice. Besides, you won’t fit in it… you’re too large.”

Gyutaro’s pout grew, almost looking like an upset child. His eyes avoided yours while your hand brushed against his cheek, nuzzling against your warm skin, his lips placing light kisses all over before savouring everything about you for one last time. His eyes glossed over your figure, from your legs to your warmth thighs, perfect stomach, soft chest and the most beautiful face. Suddenly, Gyutaro gently bit down onto your finger, nibbling a little.

“C-Can I come by tonight a-again, pretty?”

His mouth was muffled by his teeth nibbling around your delicate fingers, placing sloppy kisses all over your hand.

“Yes, please. I’d love to.”

Gyutaro nervously smiled softly, finally letting go of you to move towards your window, his usual route of escape.

“I-I love you.”

You could barely hear him say those words, but they were there. Your whole face brightened up and a blush tainted your cheeks while watching him slowly open your window, avoiding looking at you.

“I love you too, Gyu.”

“M-Mhh.”

He whimpered quietly, hurriedly jumping away quickly to both escape the rising sun and to not allow you to see his blushing face.

💠

@starvedluci , I saw you getting excited about Gyutaro XD I hope it’s okay I’m tagging you like this, it just made me laugh out loud during lunch 😅

I need some kind of merch from him. I’m not sure if there are any plushies but I have seen some figures. I was at a convention this august where I saw a decently priced figure of him and one of Gyutaro + Daki in the hay thingie together (I hope you know what I mean) but I decided to get an Akaza one instead :,)

Anways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <3 I am forever grateful for all your comments, reblogs and support. Thank you!

Here’s the The demon that.. Masterlist.

[lylian333]

~YANDERE LUKA X READER~

(this story may have changes soooo yeah but I'll edit it to make it as perfect if I can )

WARNING: yandere, toxic relationship, read at your own risk, sexual assault,I need to touch grass and prey to god after this, noncon, weird siblings love(Luka isn't obsessed with hyuna), if there other that I didn't contain please let me know

The first thing you ever see and remember is luka he's always been there whenever you sad or happy he's always been there. Thankfully you both are taken in by an alien that wants you both to start calling him father , but to you as long as luka is there.

Since the start you have always seen him as your brother he even knows about that, but perhaps he saw in a different way . you can even say he took advantage of you for being dumb and naive

Both of your features may look the same but the health problem is quite the complete you are considered healthy perhaps even have a stronger immune system than others, while your older brother is the opposite since he has asthma, and chronic migraines already.

before you both were send to Anakt Garden you both gown up with robots trying to teach and take care of both of you but the ways of it are scary and it is too much of a business that they would even care on how you smile and how you laugh .

But there are quite a few similarities between you both hate paparazzi like you guys like eating, sucking, and biting on things to satisfy you both hunger you both gown up with huge appetites as well and cause your father to worry about it and he starts giving us less food which to this day you curious that how you habits have begun.

Sometimes you both wanted to pass the time faster you both would cuddle but just cuddling tho there would be biting and touching at least your body wasn't comfortable with it but luka told you to just brush it off and you'll get used to it. this would only happened in private not waiting father or even anybody to find out about this just between you too. slowly the cuddle went from biting to kissing to even touching at weird spots but like luka said" just blush it off you'll get used to it after all you don't to make me upset do you ,dear ?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that, you both were then sent to Anakt Garden father said it's the first step of your career you both are scared at first but at least you both got each other right? well luka health is kinda slowly getting worse there , and the other children's there kinda treat luka poorly because of his health but you always protect him by chasing the others away.

Time goes by in a blur, and with every passing day, you can feel the pressure of the competition looming over you both.The training is intensive and harsh, involving physical and mental conditioning to create the perfect idols. But they did have a playtime even so the daily routine consists of rigorous practice and training .

one day,while watching the other kids playing on the other side you and luka were playing with cube and seeing who can do it faster.two person came up to you both when you both look up they smile back and introduced themself" hello my name is hyuna and my younger brother is hyun woo do you guys want to be our friends and play?"

you look at luka waiting for him to make a decision he nod and your really happy about it cause you rarely see siblings and plus their very friendly not only that turns out that hyun woo is the same age as you while hyuna is the second oldest and luka the oldest.

After that day you guys would often hang out together you even started quit seeing them as part as your siblings because of how caring, kindful, and protective they are.

And slowly you start gaining feelings for hyun woo not just any feelings but a really special one even more special than luka and you.Hyun woo would often make a bouquet of flowers or flower head crowns just for you , he would also care for you talk to you a lot, and entertain you which you really enjoy. he would even help you to practice your vocals so that you wouldn't mess up in case and just overall a happy ball full of fun. and perhaps you can even say that you enjoy hyun woo accompany more then luka ones but maybe luka have caught on to you and hyun woo relationships.

About a year later of this at one day, after playing around you guys have gotten tried and decide to rest well hyuna go get some water you and hyun woo decide to lay down together perhaps even call it as a cuddle? Slowly you dive into sleep.

The next thing you knew when you woke up was you hear fighting??? you git confuse and rub your eyes and got up seeing what's going on.turn out it was luka and hyun fighting they rarelt fight even if they did it's usually luka who wanted to find trouble or he just didn't know about it but this fight is not like others it not playful it's like luka actually trying to hit hyun woo before you can fully process what to do luka use all his might and push hyun woo on the group causing him to accidently hit a rock.

Seeing that you instantly push luka causing him to fall on the ground when you turn around to check if hyun woo is okay but you notice his head is b-bleeee-bleeding , him not moving at all not even an inch

Hyuna came into the scene as well screaming" What's going on here and-...Hyun woo-"she stood there speed looking dumbfounded then robots and alien staff came in while hyuna was trying to leave his brother alone you turned around to your brother about to scream at him for what he did but you notice that he's hand is c-changing color-? it's was supposed to be- no not never purple you kneel against him confused picking up his finger and touching it not understanding what's going on why is so many things happening at once

You finally spoken out "luka why...?"

Hyuna kicked and screamed at all her might to put down her brother but the robots just pushed her away and the alien staff held her back she was madly crying. you wanted to go comfort her but when you were about to move luka held you tight "Don't leave me yet I'm not feeling well, sister" he said as he hold you tightly.

Ever since that day, hyuna has grown to have a negative sentiment to luka but even you can't blame her for what she has to be.

One peaceful night well sleeping, you got woken up by hyuna shacking your body trying to silently wake you up"(y/n) Follow me now" she whispered into your ear

'"Where are we going?"

"We're going to escape from this place from our owners and from this living hell, now come on we don't have much time left"

She then pulls your hand out of bed and starts running. You have so many questions in your head but before you can ask any question hyuna pulls you down onto the ground hiding from cameras and security "(y/n) , you may be confused right now but I'll explain to you when we both get out of here please escape with me you're the only person I trusted even after the incident. But please wake up there are many dark secret about this place and the future career all you have to do is just follow me and run across the field climb up a gate and get out"

Part of you wanted to listen to hyuna and escape this living hell and owners of a place but half of you wanted to stay with your older brother and is afraid that luka would be weak and may be left out .....

In the end you choose to escape for your own good for your own freedom and rights. You nod to hyuna who's smile at you and nod back understanding

You both slowly craw out of your hiding spot till one of you got caught by the camera and robots . you both run you tried keeping up to her speed . the alarms were to on alarming the others that the children's are escaping .

Some robots even try shooting you guys down but it can't . Hyuna begin to climb the gate to escape while screaming"(y/n) you can do this just trust me!"

Half way there you feel a strong pull at your leg and caused you to slip down and hit your head on the gate and the ground before you pass out from the pain you ever last encountered with her just looking down at you from the top with her sad and hopeless expression before she keeps going

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you woke up you woke up your realized that you were not in the Anakt Garden bed you were in your home bed with luka on the side hugging you. You were curious and confused and eve scared that father would punish you. When trying to move you feel a sharp pain causing you to moan uncomfortable causing luka to wake up"Finally you woke up dear after a few days without you feel horrible but it's fine our owner has taken us back to home"

Hearing that makes you remember what happened you feel like you are disappointed in yourself you feel horrible for letting yourself down why are you so stupid there is nothing you can do but shed tears hugging your brother.

Timeskip many years later

You were sitting on the bed waiting for Luka to return from round 5 you both may be singers but never in the same stage or competition for both of your sake. Your competition was over with you winning and nothing surprising from what has happened multiple times in the past. But how do they manage to hold different competition and different members

Then you hear the door open, luka enters with his face injury and black eyes it's not your first time seeing this but every time you do it reminds you of the past...

Luka sat on the couch waiting for you to grab equipment to help with his injury. when you did he pulled you to sit on his lap "You're the only thing I want and need I miss spending time with you like in the old days....why don't we cuddle again like how we used to maybe more intense now since you gown up right now a baby anymore..." he chuckles cupping your cheek

(there hasn't been an ending yet sooon I came up with my own for now and maybe in the future I'll edit it better bc I only have one week left before my fucking important ass exam .But I just fall into the fandom bc of the edit it's so good man and I'll also try understanding the concept alright) I know this is really mess up but still...anyways thanks for reading

[fanboyoff1]

Landoscar- Losing your bags at the airport (1.7k words)

Hello all! This is based off that one tweet about Lando losing his bags at the airport and Oscar staying with him. Disclaimer- I know nothing about airports, all of this was google searched stuff, so go easy on me. (I made it an American airport because dealing with a language barrier was too complicated lol) It's mostly fluff, but I suppose a bit of angst?

Also, this is my first fic I'm posting online, so please be kind ❤️

Lando sighed loudly, blowing hair out of his face as he exhaled. He wasn’t the biggest fan of airports by principle. They’re boring, the lines are long, and the whole thing seems so much bigger than it needs to be. But it’s kind of a necessary part of his job, so he’d mostly gotten used to waiting for stupid amounts of time at airports.

But this is just kinda ridiculous. He and Oscar had been waiting for Lando’s suitcase to show up at baggage claim for… well he didn’t know how long it had been, but it was longer than he’d ever had to wait before. Even worse, Oscar’s bag had practically been the first to get dumped out onto the carousel, because of course it had. They were going to the hotel together, so Oscar was staying with him. The Aussie was on his phone, sitting on his suitcase and texting someone. Lando hated the silence, so he tore his eyes away from Oscar’s gorgeous side profile and yawned.

“This is taking foreverrr,” he said, stretching from his place crouched on the floor.

“It’s been ten minutes,” Oscar corrected, not once looking up from his phone.

“Screen-ager,” Lando decided to retaliate. Oscar looked up now, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment clear on his face. Lando looked back to the baggage carousel, satisfied by getting a reaction out of the younger man.

Oscar cleared his throat. “How about we just wait a few more minutes and then go to the baggage desk.”

“Huh?”

“The baggage desk. Where you go if you lose your luggage. It’s right there.” He pointed, and sure enough, back against the wall and a few carousels down was a little front desk-looking thing, with neon letters spelling out ‘Baggage Desk’ above it.

“Oh,” Lando mumbled, adjusting his hat. 

“I’ll just tell Zak we’ll be a bit later than expected,” Oscar said, giving Lando a blinding smile that made his stomach twist with that complicated more-than-just-a-crush feeling he preferred not to think about. He hummed in response, fiddling with his hoodie strings.

After a few more minutes, everyone that had been on their flight (aka about half the Mclaren crew, including Zak and Andrea who had ditched them first chance they got) had left, and Lando was getting more and more stressed out. He was biting his lip and running his hands through his hair repeatedly, imagining practically every worse-case scenario. What if his suitcase got on the wrong flight? What if there was something bad in there he didn’t realize and they wouldn’t let him get his stuff? What if some rando took his stuff?

He didn’t realize Oscar was talking to him until a hand waved in front of his face. He looked to his teammate who was already staring at him worriedly.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked, resting his hand on Lando’s arm. Lando managed a small, likely unconvincing nod. 

Oscar let go of his upper arm with a gentle squeeze, and Lando might just melt away at the spot. “Well, I was asking you if you wanted to go to the baggage desk and ask about your suitcase?”

Lando nodded again and stood, walking away before even giving Oscar a chance to do so as well. He felt a bit bad as he heard Oscar scramble upright and start pulling his suitcase behind him, but it had been a long day and he really just needed to collapse into his hotel room now.

He reached the desk and made eye contact with a short woman, her long brown hair tied up in a low ponytail and wearing official looking clothes, who was standing near the back of the small room. She rushed forward and sat down in a swivel chair, pushing her glasses up.

“What’s your issue, dearie?” she said in a strong Southern accent, only slightly muffled by the thick glass separating them.

“Uh, can’t find my bag. Didn't show up,” he said with a guilty smile. He tried to turn on his charm as much as possible, his train of thought being, Maybe if I’m nice she’ll be nice back and then I can go to bed quicker. 

“Alright love. Name?”

“Lando Norris,” he said. Oscar had reached him by now, standing so close to his side that their shoulders were almost brushing against each other.

The lady did some typing on her computer, then let out a little tsk sound in the back of her throat. “I’m sorry, it seems like your luggage got sent to the wrong place. We’re trying to get it here as we speak.”

Lando shot a glance back to Oscar, who raised his eyebrows. “Do you know what happened?” he asked the lady. He looked at the pin on her shirt, which said her name was Charlotte. Huh, she didn’t look like a Charlotte.

Charlotte gave a shrug in response. “Could’ve been anything. My guess, there wasn’t enough space in the cargo hold on your plane. It got placed on the wrong extra-storage space, and got sent somewhere else. You’ll have to wait until it gets here. That might take a while.”

Lando worked hard to suppress a groan. “Okay. Thanks.” He tried for a smile that ended up more like a grimace.

“You two can sit in one of those chairs on the right while you wait,” Charlotte said with a sympathetic smile. Lando turned to his right and flopped into a chair. At least they were cushioned. 

This night was turning shitty fast. He just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask? And what was even more awful about this was that Oscar had to stay with him.

“Sorry about this,” he told his friend, who looked at him confused.

“Why? It’s nothing you could control.”

“Yeah, I guess. It’s just…” he trailed off, not sure how to explain that somehow he was blaming himself for this. No, he’d never tell Oscar that, he’d think he was weird. The edge of Lando’s eyes were starting to water with tears, and he wanted to scream. You’re such a baby. What’s your problem? Bury it, you can’t do this right now. Crybaby.

“Hey, Lando, it’s okay,” Oscar said, reaching out with one hand. He touched Lando’s shoulder tenderly. “I don’t mind.”

Lando hugged his legs to his chest and buried his head in his knees. “I’m just having a bad day,” he mumbled, and for a second he wasn’t sure if Oscar heard him.

“That’s alright,” Oscar said, and he let go of Lando’s arm. Lando didn’t even get a chance to mourn the loss of contact though, because then Oscar’s arm was wrapping around his shoulders and gently tugging him closer. Lando practically fell onto his chest, and could feel his cheeks reddening.

“This okay?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You can rest. You know, if you want. I know you’re tired.”

“Will you wake me up when my suitcase shows up?”

“Mm-hmm,” Oscar hummed, and Lando let himself sink into his embrace, their breaths and heartbeats syncing. Oscar was really cuddly, he thought as he drifted off.

# # #

“Hey, Lando, wake up.”

Osc, Lando thought and smiled. “Wake up, Lando.” Then someone was gently pushing his shoulder, and he blearily opened his eyes.

He took in his surroundings with a moment of slight confusion before remembering. The airport. His bags. Crying. Oscar.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” the man in question said, and Lando swore he felt his fingers brushing through his curls. “C’mon, your stuff got here.”

A part of Lando wanted to jump up and start doing a victory dance on the spot. The annoyance of getting up overruled it though. He was so comfy.

Wait, where exactly was he? He knew he was at the airport, but this was way too comfy for a chair. His eyes flickered around trying to figure it out, and oh God he was in Oscar’s lap. He quickly sat up, using his hands to push himself upright. However, he didn’t account for where he was putting his hands, and ended up putting half of his weight on Oscar’s thigh. Oscar let out a little grunt of pain, wincing.

“Oh shit, sorry sorry sorry,” Lando hurriedly apologized, backing up.

“No no, you’re fine,” Oscar reassured him, but his voice was strained. He looked at Lando with a smirk. “Are you trying to sabotage me, Lando Norris?”

“I’m sorry!”

Oscar just giggled and stood. He reached a hand out to Lando, who took it. He used his free hand to grab his suitcase and took off confidently to the left, not releasing his tight grasp on Lando’s hand.

“Uh, where are we going?” Lando asked, desperately trying to stop the stupid butterflies rising in his stomach. God he was so childish, they were literally just holding hands. But they were holding hands. 

“To get your bag. Obviously.”

With no further explanation, he proceeded to get dragged through what felt like half the airport. Not that he minded. Every once in a while Oscar would look back and give him a trademark Osc Smile that made his insides turn to mush, so that made up for the mystery part pretty well.

Finally they reached their destination, some obscure part of the airport. A few official people gave him his suitcase along with many apologies and a crap ton of airline points (not that those were especially helpful to him, Mclaren paid for most of his flights anyways. It was a nice gesture though.) He accepted the apologies quickly, not wanting to drag out this process any longer than necessary.

 Then they were in a taxi headed to their hotel, and the exhaustion was coming back ten-fold.

“Tired?” Oscar asked once Lando had yawned for the fifth time.

“Just a bit,” Lando quipped.

“Want to sleep again?”

“You’re fine with it?”

“Of course.”

Lando hesitantly let his head fall on Oscar’s shoulder. Oscar’s arm found its way around his shoulders again.

Just before Lando fell asleep again, he felt a feather-light kiss pressing against his head, and he scooted closer to Oscar with a sigh.

Here are some people who said they were interested: @slugesh, @peppysinc, @sunnykasarova, @alto-the-avocado, @lailau7904, @standgrand, @chamberkat

[nqueso-emergency]

I wrote this because I needed to get it off my chest. But then I didn't want to put it on my own blog because I didn't want to deal with the discourse. So, I decided to send it to you in the hope you'd put it up.

I've been in many different fandoms, and I think the only fandom where I ever very actively shipped a canon couple was Torchwood. (If there are people not shipping Jack and Ianto, please never tell me.) That means, of course, there were always other LI of my ships to deal with. And somehow, no matter the fandom (NICS, Hawaii 5-0, Sherlock (mostly), Stargate, etc pp) it's always the same: If the fic takes place at a point in canon where one or more people in the desired ship are currently in a relationship usually one of two things happens: 1. The canon LI just doesn't seem to exist in the fic. 2. There is somewhere one line about "Oh, what about Character A?" "Ah, we broke up. No big deal." (And writing this, I'm kinda laughing now about the Buck/Natalia break-up between seasons 6 and 7.)

So, it's very strange and confusing to watch this part of the Buddie fandom that's so enraged about Tommy and has made hating him their whole fandom personality, who instead of doing what's always been done with LIs that were in the way of a ship created this whole subgenre on 9-1-1 fics now whose whole focus is "How do we overcome the obstacle of the unwanted LI to get our ship". (As I write this, there are 800 fics on ao3 tagged with both ships!) Where did the mentality of "ignore the LI in the way of our ship" vanish to? It was there for other LIs of Buck and Eddie in the past, why isn't it there for Tommy? Why can't a multishipper go into the Buddie tag in peace without being slapped in the face with Tommy bashing everywhere? (And why do you have to bash Buck and Eddie, too, while doing so? I know you don't recognize it, but that's what you're doing with many of those takes about the cheating. That's what you are doing every time you make Eddie into a violent caricature just so you have someone who can beat Tommy up.)

The hate against Tommy has a very different quality and edge to it than the hate for other LIs in the past, and this new genre you all created is a huge part of that.

And before anyone starts, yes there are a lot of bashing fics about the other LI. I've read a lot of them. The vast majority of those are not about finding a way to get the LI out of the way for Buddie (especially not by glorifying Buddie cheating on their LIs) They are about exploring little things of the characters people find jarring or exaggerating those things to use as a plot or plot device. (e.g. Ana's ableist take after the whole skateboard incident. Or her unprofessional behavior of flirting with a parent during parent-teacher-conference.)

As for the very worn-out mantra/whine of "Why could I peacefully hate on the female LIs in the past but aren't allowed to do the same with Tommy?" No one would bother you if you stopped pushing your hate on everyone else.

But you're trying to infiltrate every single nook with your hatred because somehow you don't understand while you're entitled to your hate about Tommy, other people are just as equally entitled to their love and appreciation of the character and the representation he provides. It's not just the Buddie tag people are bombarded with your hate in. No matter what tag — Bathena, Henren, Madney, every single character tag — you'll stumble over Tommy hate pretty fast. Because you tag them all if they matter for your post or not. (I mean, you've done that with Buddie in general for years, which also was never okay!) Or find cheap excuses to include them in your post.

People would let you wallow in your hate peacefully if you wouldn't attack anyone who didn't agree with you. Especially those gay and bi men in this fandom who are full of gratefulness and praise for the representation of their lived experiences 9-1-1 has given them through Tommy and Bucktommy. Who've been calling you out for your hateful and phobic behavior because there is no avoiding being confronted with it.

No one would bother you if you wouldn't post public lists of people you plan to bully in the future!

I guess the point of this long-ass rant is: Get in your fucking lane and let everyone else enjoy the fandom, too. Keep your hate where others can avoid it. It's not that difficult. And believing everyone has to agree with you about your hate is a huge red flag.

Perfectly said, anon 👏

"You" = bestie boos btw

[sirfrogsworth]

Now what?

Whenever I see Trump my brain thinks of my mom and I feel angry about how she died. I have PTSD and I'm actually in the process of seeking out a therapist to address it.

And until I can get some help, I guess I'm just going to feel that anger for a while. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to see or think of him again.

This is pretty bad. And it is really scary. And I hate that one man is capable of causing so much fear and anxiety among the people I care about.

I guess there is one thought I am trying to hold onto.

I recently talked about chronic illness and the "new normal." As illness progresses you sometimes have to accept a new normal and learn to adjust and adapt to it. And every time I was faced with a new normal I was convinced I could not adjust or adapt. But every time I figured it out and found a way to keep going.

I think we will adapt because we have to. We will fight because we have to. But we will need each other to get through this.

Look to your allies. Your friends and your trusted family. Keep those relationships healthy. Do the work to maintain them. Prioritize building and sustaining a personal support system over everything else. Do your part when they need help. Keep in regular contact. Keep the emotional labor as reciprocal and balanced as possible. And don't be afraid to tell them when you feel overburdened. Keep communication healthy so you both feel comfortable expressing hard truths. Open up to them so they feel trusted and make sure they feel comfortable doing the same with you. Try not to lean on one single person too much as they might get overwhelmed.

But also remember to enjoy your friendships. They are not there just to be your therapist. (An *actual* therapist is a good idea if it is feasible.) It's important to laugh and waste time together. Shoot the shit and bond over mutual interests. Or introduce them to your interests and teach them why you love what you love. Ask them about their interests and even if you don't completely get it, be happy that something makes your friend happy.

If you feel like you don't have a support system or it is severely diminished like mine, you'll have to do the work to seek out new people. I'm in that process now after losing my parents. And trust me, I know it isn't easy. I am really struggling to connect to new people. It takes a lot of energy and I haven't had a lot of energy to spare. But I know it is what I will need to help me adapt to the new normal. So I'm going to put in the effort and figure it out. I encourage you to do the same.

You will not connect with every new person. That's okay. Remember this is a process and it takes time. And don't beat yourself up if building your support system is slow going. If nothing else, you are learning and growing and developing tools to help you on this journey.

This community has been so kind to me. You all are a part of my support system. And I feel very lucky to have you in my corner. I love you and I care for you. I'm going to try my best to advocate for what you need. Helping others is another way to keep moving forward. A righteous sense of purpose is a powerful tool in the face of a new normal.

Please take care of yourselves as best you can.

Find your people if you haven't already.

Or find *more* people if you don't have enough.

You are in my thoughts.

[merakiui]

hi, i was checking your twst yandere tag and

idia thoughts? :3

I love Idia. The STYX bgm is a banger. Ignihyde's entire aesthetic is amazing. Book 6 is so scrumptious. OTL I could go on and on.

Whenever I think about yan Idia, I automatically default to STYX Idia thoughts only because I crave an Idia who is a little crazy beneath the awkwardly sweet, endearingly shy otaku who stalks you through the cameras and is too nervous to interact irl. Those parts are wonderful of course, but I just know the guy who rebuilt his dead brother (obviously it's not as simple as that and there's so much more grief and trauma intertwined with those actions),,, but the fact still stands that he built the first technomantic humanoid Twisted Wonderland has ever seen....... HE'S CRAZY SMART!!!! And you can't tell me he wouldn't perform other potentially morally and ethically dubious things in an effort to satisfy grotesque curiosity or some other delusion.... ethics at STYX only go so far until Idia-sama is in charge and as Acting Director everyone else must listen to him. I know he hates his job and doesn't want to inherit it, but ooooooo he's so fine in the STYX uniform.

And also,,, with how his parents are I think they're probably going to ignore the very obvious obsession in the room because as long as Idy is happy it doesn't really matter (and you'll be taken care of and cherished so wonderfully). >w< Mama Shroud saw his files when she logged into his computer in book seven and ever since then she just wants her boy to be happy and in love. Maybe it's even a surprise Idia found someone...... Idia and his father are so similar, so maybe it's a case of both of them being shocked the other found a lover. T_T but now he has a 3D beloved and Mama Shroud couldn't be any happier. I have so many thoughts on the dynamics........

AND HIS PARALLELS WITH ROLLO?!?!?!? Insane....... the way they both grieved entirely differently but could understand all of the feelings that come with mourning. And how they chose to act on that. The anger and the unfairness. Anger at the world, at themselves, at those around them. The self-blame and self-hatred. The burdens of mourning all alone and feeling like no one else can help or did help and that no one can truly understand or sympathize.......... I'm just rambling about everything Idia now... the thoughts are everywhere!!!!!

I just think there's so much potential with Idia who is as smart as he is. He is genuinely so efficient and if he wanted to build something that would make it easier to stalk you or to keep you with him or some other wild yan concept he absolutely would and it would be finished within the day. He's so cool........ orz the power he has...

[dreamingofep]

Like a lot of you, I’m at a loss for words. I’m so disappointed and frustrated with the choice a huge amount of Americans made. To me, it’s disgusting and reprehensible the path the country chose to go. I couldn’t sleep all night but when I did wake up, I had a feeling in my stomach like a death just happened. I’ve never felt like that about anything political. Every part of me wants to crawl in a hole and stay there.

But I know that’s not the way to go about it. Especially when I have such a loving community such as this one. Call me too optimistic, but I think this world has so much love to offer that can drown out the hate. I think it’s more important than ever to lift each other up and be kind. The world needs kindness more than ever. Elvis was always kind and showed love and I think we need to follow that same path.

Ever since joining this fandom over two years ago, if I’ve learned anything, I’ve learned from you guys that we are all loving and supportive group of people. We share the love of Elvis and can make a grey day seem bright. I don’t think I realize I do it, but whenever I am feeling down, I always put on an Elvis song. Something about his voice makes me smile and calms my worried mind. But I also go on here to feel some joy. You all make me really happy with your love for him and see how silly we can be about things.

Always here to talk Elvis and lift you up too. I think that’s going to be extremely important from here on out. I’m sending everyone love and hugs that need it.

-S

[roscgcld]

hear me out🙏 frenemies to lovers with fratboy!sukuna that has rumors about him being some sort of sex god meanwhile hes a virgin, demisexual, and has the fattest crush on reader but of course readers too dense to notice so one day at a frat party maybe he does something that makes reader realize

RYOMEN SUKUNA || fratboy!au

note: *slams hand on table* i love it - give me 20 of those.

pronouns: afab, but really it's gender neutral for the most part

disclaimer: since I am in Europe, it's not underaged drinking - but do not that there is drinking/flat-party-esk vibes? (idk, don't know mich about frats hahaha)

ryomen sukuna masterlist |  buy me a coffee?  

college is daunting

but while college is for studies, it is also known for the parties

now obviously there was no requirement for you to drink to have fun, but it definitely helps - and with you being roomed with a very energetic group of housemates, on the odd day they catch you outside of your room, you are being dragged to a house party

and like any college, there is the most popular 'party animal' - and for your college, that is ryomen sukuna

riding on a football scholarship, and having been bid on by almost all the frat houses, sukuna was known to be the life of the party; being able to charm a wall if you left him in front of one long enough

There were endless rumours about which 'lucky' girl he slept with that week, what parties he was going to for the week, and the new drink combos he came up with

basically whatever he touched, turned into gold

and even if you wanted to avoid him, you physically can't - not when you two are in the same course and shared almost all of your classes together

it was hard to ignore the constant whispers in the crowded lecture hall you two share; half of these people aren't even in your degree, but they are hogging up all the seats

so unless you go in early, you are not getting the good seats

and it just had to be your luck that the only few seats that were free were right in front of sukuna's; which was at the very front of the classroom

that already annoys you, and it doesn't help that sukuna seems to take annoying you as a part of his to-do list

not only does he make sure to go out of his way to do any group project (which to be fair, bar from being hard to organise group meetings with him, he does his share of the work), he seems to always seek you out in any of your shared lectures

not only did it mean you had the glaring eyes of at least 10 people on you, but you could also hear the whispers and the somewhat passive-aggressive interactions with a few of your classmates

it also came with a lot of people trying to become your 'friend', as it seemed from the outside that you and sukuna are close friends

and because of this, you had tried to ignore sukuna for the most part - you weren't mean or cold, you were just cordial

but that seemed to not have deterred him; as he would run up to you after lectures or invite himself into your conversations with your roommates and friends

it is because of his persistence that it led to you two having somewhat of a friendship - where you found out that behind his outgoing and sometimes borderline arrogant personality, he was somewhat of a nerd who enjoys video games and comics, and goes home often to visit 'the brat' (aka, his baby brother)

your sudden closeness to the 'king of the campus' however meant attention - which meant personal invites to massive house parties

you were not much of a party person. sure, you enjoyed a good drink or two, but you prefer to stay in on the weekend

however, as if god hates you, the invite to this party was on a name basis - and guess whose name was printed on the invitation in big, bold letters?

so that is how you found yourself being shoved into your bathroom with an outfit that your roommate had found in your closet; with promises that she will be doing your makeup once you walk out

not long after you found yourself being welcomed into sukuna's frat house; where your friends immediately started to drag you around to see who had actually been invited

and if like magic, sukuna seemed to have spotted you from wherever he was and made his way towards you

"well look at what the cat's dragged in?" he called out to you teasingly with a smirk

you greeted him back, and you thought that was that - but he just seems to...follow you everywhere?

from you finding your friends (you made him open all your bottles), bringing you to meet his frat brothers and other friends, butting into your conversations with random people

it was like having a very clingy cat following you like a shadow

you have no idea why he does that so much; it was as if he was trying to scare everyone away and keep your attention entirely on him

eventually, though your friends got to drag you away to play some games that were being held, and that was how you found yourself in a circle of people playing suck and blow; where you pass the card to the next person with your lips. and if the card falls you had to take a drink

after you guys changed your seats, you found yourself sitting between two men; since it had to be girl-boy-girl

you don't know who the guy is by your left, but you are aware of the man on your right; you two shared the same classes and so wave or nod at each other when you make eye contact

and even though you can't see him, you can feel sakuna's eyes on you from behind you. which both reassures you, but also made your hair stand on the edge

soon though the game started, and your attention was soon occupied with the game as the card started to make its rounds around the table

the first few rounds were fun to watch; since the card only went past 3 to 4 people before it fell on the ground, with the two people laughing when they kissed before taking a sip from their drink

it took a while for you to get your first try of the game, and you managed to hand the card over to the next person perfectly, but it was when the second time the card returned to you that it fell a few seconds just before the other man got into position

it all happened in slow motion; one moment you were staring wide-eyed at the man beside you as he got closer to your face, and the next thing you knew a warm hand was pressed up against your lips and you were pulled into a solid mass

"don't even think about it, punk."

the group around you erupted in teasing cheers as you felt your face warm up from embarrassment; your eyes looking up at sukuna to see him giving the poor man a lethal look. his other hand gripping so tightly onto his bottle that you feared he was going to break it

before you can do anything though you are hoisted off your seat and lead off; spluttering through your shock as you try to catch up behind sakuna

eventually, you two came to a stop in a room, and it took you a few seconds to realise that you were in sukuna's room. who was staring down at you with an unreadable look on his face. "um-"

"just how dense are you ?"

you aren't really sure what he meant by that, and he must have seen the confusion on your face as he just rolled his eyes in annoyance

"you do know i like you, right? I've been trying to tell you for months now."

you didn't know what to say - so all you did was blink up at the frustrated man and slowly shook your head in response. you genuinely had no idea at all

"..i am in love with an idiot."

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