#and then i had to pass through the meeting spot anyways and i was nervous he'd be there waiting or something

[morningstar-chronicles]

hey i just realized i survived through the day! that's good news

[hoshifighting]

     woozi + accidental stimulation

— wrestling session with your bestfriend!jihoon goes “wrong” when he accidentally uses your sensitive spot to knock you out.

WARNINGS: +18, smut, “fight” sensitive neck, dry humping, moaning, neck biting, fingering, doggy style, hair pulling, brief blowjob, oral [f. receiving], messy make out.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

it was just another lazy afternoon with jihoon—your best friend for god knows how long, the one who knew exactly how to annoy you without really trying. the sun was spilling through the curtains, casting lazy, golden light on the couch where you two had been for hours now, pretending to care about the second movie you picked. it was boring as hell, but it was an excuse to hang out and mess around like always.

jihoon sits next to you, half-distracted, his arms loosely crossed, eyes half-lidded like he’s about to pass out from boredom.

your legs were sprawled across his lap for the past half hour.

“this movie sucks,” you say, yawning without covering your mouth. before you even finish, jihoon’s finger is already pressing against your lips, making you flinch and shove his hand away.

“don’t yawn like that,” he mumbles, a smirk tugging at his lips. “rude.”

you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smirking, leaning over to jab him in the side, just under his ribs—his weak spot. his whole body jolts as he twists away from you, that adorable flinch he always does making you snicker. as he lets out an annoyed grunt. “don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“oh please, i finish everything,” you teased, but the movie was getting too dull and the wrestling was way more interesting, anyway. it was like a daily ritual—one of you would start messing with the other until it escalated into full-on play-fighting.

it took about five seconds before jihoon decided enough was enough and tackled you sideways. you yelped as he pushed you back into the cushions, his weight pressing down, one of his hands grabbing at your wrist to pin it above your head. “what did i just say?” he taunted, eyes glinting as he straddled your waist, keeping you down just enough to make it a challenge.

“you suck,” you managed between laughs, trying to wiggle free, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. with a twist of your hips, you somehow managed to roll him over onto his back, both of you collapsing into a heap of limbs and laughter. jihoon let out a loud groan when you climbed on top of him, your knees pressed on either side of his waist.

“you know i always win,” you grinned down at him, breathless, as you pinned both his arms above his head, a smug smile pulling at your lips.

“only ‘cause you cheat,” jihoon muttered, his voice slightly strained from trying not to laugh. you could see his eyes narrow, a playful look flashing across his face, and before you had time to process it, he tilted his head, and bit down your neck to scare you.

you felt your entire body freeze, your grip on his wrists faltering for a split second, the sensation is sharper than it should be, the sound that escapes your mouth isn’t just a reaction...

it’s a moan.

your thighs tremble, knees still locked on either side of his waist, but they give just enough for you to sink down, pressing directly onto his lap. his breath catches, and you both freeze.

“you—” he starts, but his voice falters, turning into a nervous laugh, one that vibrates through your body because of how close you are. “i didn’t mean… shit…”

“i—” your voice is breathy, the thin fabric of your shorts doing absolutely nothing to stop the heat between your legs from meeting the growing hardness beneath you. it’s accidental—completely accidental—but you feel everything.

jihoon goes rigid beneath you, his arms still pinned above his head, but his eyes darken, his chest rising and falling a little quicker now. “did you just—”

“right,” you say, but your voice sounds breathy, way too affected for someone trying to play it off. you should pull away, but your body doesn’t cooperate.

his hips shift beneath you, making the volume of his cock hump on you. you bite your lip hard, trying to steady yourself, but it's useless. the friction is too much, and when you grind down ever so slightly—just to readjust—you both groan at the same time.

“fuck, stop moving—” jihoon hisses, but there’s no real anger in his voice, just this strained, breathy sound that makes your head spin.

“you bit me, it’s your fault,” you shoot back, your voice shaky. but you’re not moving off him either. you could, but something in the way his fingers flex against your hold, the way his eyes flicker between yours and your lips, keeps you there.

your hands tighten their hold on his arms, keeping him pinned, and you’re both so still, so aware of the closeness now.

“you can let go, you know,” he murmurs, but there’s no urgency in his voice. he doesn’t try to get up. his eyes flick to your lips for just a second before returning to your eyes, and your heart stumbles again.

“you started it,” you whispered, your voice barely steady, your body betraying the playful act you’d been putting up. your pulse quickened, your hips rocking again, and this time, neither of you pretended it wasn’t on purpose.

“if—you—” but he couldn’t finish the sentence, not when your hips kept moving like that, drawing small, helpless sounds from both of you.

the friction between your bodies makes your mind blank for a second, and you swear you feel him tense beneath you, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale.

“if you’re gonna keep doing that—” jihoon mutters. “i’m not sure i can stay still.”

for a second you wonder if you’ve ever felt anything this intense. you’re breathing hard, chest pressed against his, and his lips are so close to yours now, you can practically feel the heat of his breath.

“fuck... are we really doing this?” his voice is raspy, and his eyes search yours, looking for an answer you don’t even have yet.

but the heat pooling in your stomach says enough, and you both know it.

your breath is still ragged, his cock pressing up against you as you settle into the friction. you haven’t even kissed him yet, and already it’s way too much. the second you grind down on him again, his hips jerk up into you. it’s not even subtle anymore. jihoon lets out this strangled groan, one arm free now as he grips your waist like he’s barely holding himself back.

you don’t even know how it gets to this point—just that you’re suddenly on all fours on the couch, knees digging into the cushions, your breath catching in your throat as his hands smooth down your back, stopping at your ass and squeezing like he’s wanted to do this for years.

"not even a kiss?" you tease, twisting your head back just enough to catch his eye, and jihoon looks at you. he doesn't respond, just slides one hand up your waist and over your shoulder, guiding you back so you're flush against him.

he leans in close, his lips brushing over your neck, the heat of his breath making your skin prickle. "you want a kiss?" he murmurs, his voice so soft it almost doesn’t fit with the way he's palming your ass, fingers slipping underneath the hem of your shorts to graze the bare skin.

“yeah,” you whisper, but it comes out a little breathless, like you're already losing your edge. you’re too turned on to keep teasing, but the second his lips press against yours, you’re gone.

he kisses you slow at first, letting it build, his tongue flicking against yours, and it’s filthy. jihoon deepens it, sucking on your bottom lip before his tongue tangles with yours again, wet and messy, a mix of moans and spit. you’re gripping him, your nails digging into his skin, and he pulls you impossibly closer, chest pressed against your back as his tongue moves against yours in a way that makes your whole body tense up.

“fuck—jihoon,” you moan into his mouth, and he just groans in response, gripping your waist with both hands now, flipping you over so fast your head spins.

“on all fours,” he says, his voice rough, and you barely have time to process before you feel his hands pushing you up, your knees sinking into the couch again, ass in the air. his hands slide down your sides, one gripping your waist and the other tracing over the curve of your ass.

his fingers slide under the hem of your shorts, yanking them down, panties pulled with them. there’s nothing gentle in the way he does it, and that’s exactly what you want.

“fuck, jihoon—” you manage to get out, but your voice cuts off in a moan as he slides two fingers between your legs, finding how wet you already are—and god, those fingers always called your attention. he hisses through his teeth, his fingers slick as they dip inside you, stretching you instantly.

"you’re soaked already," he says, more of a statement than a question, and you bite your lip hard because you can't deny it. you press back against his hand, needing more, and he doesn't waste time. his fingers pump inside you faster, curling just right, making you tremble, thighs shaking.

you moan, the sound escaping before you can even stop it, and it only urges him on. his free hand comes down, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling you back slightly so your back arches deeper. the sharp pull ships hot air through you, and fuck, it feels so good you can barely think.

“jihoon—” you gasp again, legs already feeling weak, the pressure building in your stomach from his fingers driving in and out of you at a merciless pace. he’s relentless, thumb brushing against your clit just to make it worse. you whimper, body shaking under his touch, and you can hear him curse under his breath behind you.

“god, i’ve been wanting to do this forever,” he growls, yanking his fingers out of you suddenly, and the emptiness makes you whine. but before you can complain, he’s shoving your knees apart wider, positioning himself between them. his hands grip your hips, pulling you back towards his face, and then you feel it—his mouth on you.

the first swipe of his tongue over your clit makes your entire body jolt, and you cry out, fingers clutching the couch cushions hard. he doesn’t give you a second to adjust, his mouth working you over, tongue sliding through your folds, lips sucking on your clit until you're practically shaking.

you rock back against him, desperate for more, hips moving on their own, and he groans into you, the sound vibrating through your sopping cunt. he licks you like he’s starving for it.

“fuck—jihoon, i’m—” you can barely get the words out, the pleasure building so quickly it makes your head spin. you’re close, too close, but before you can even get there, he pulls away, leaving you panting, so fucking close to falling apart.

“not yet,” he mutters, his voice dark and rough, and then you feel him again—this time, the head of his cock pressing against you.

you’re so wet it’s easy for him to push in, but the stretch still makes you gasp. he doesn’t give you a second to adjust, thrusting in deep, filling you completely in one hard stroke. you moan, the sound high-pitched, and his fingers dig into your hips as he starts to move.

it’s hard, rough, each thrust making your body jolt forward, and all you can do is hold onto the couch as he sets a brutal pace.

he reaches forward, fisting a hand in your hair again, yanking your head back roughly. the sharp pull makes a thick tear roll down your cheek, and you cry out, moaning his name as his hips slam against yours.

“jihoon—fuck—” you gasp, the words barely coherent/

he pulls your hair harder, his other hand reaching around to find your clit, fingers rubbing fast circles as he keeps thrusting into you, relentless, pushing you closer to the edge. your legs are shaking, body trembling under him, and you can feel it—so fucking close now.

“come on, baby, i wanna feel you cum,” he moans into your ear, and that’s all it takes. the combination of his cock slamming into you and his fingers on your clitmakes you cum hard, crying out, body shaking violently as you sob.

your thighs clamp together as your orgasm rips through you, and jihoon groans loudly behind you, hips slamming into you one last time before he follows, taking his cock in. arush, cumming hard watching the white mess on your ass, his hand still tangled in your hair as his hips stutter against yours.

you collapse onto the couch, completely spent, body trembling and limbs weak, and jihoon collapses on top of you, his breathing just as ragged as yours.

you can’t help but laugh, the tension fading away as the heat between you slowly dissolves into something softer. he grunts, rolling off of you and collapsing next to you on the couch. neither of you say anything for a few moments, just trying to catch your breath, the living room smelling like sex

“well,” jihoon finally says, voice hoarse, a teasing grin tugging at his lips, “if that’s one way to kill time.”

you glance at yourself and then at him, laughing at the mess, his body is on the worst position ever—maybe that's why his back always hurts—and then you look at his still-lowered shorts, flushed cock resting on his abdomen, trying to twitch back to life.

“i want to suck you off so bad...” you raise up reaching for him, hand wrapped on the base, as your tongue slides on the pink tip.

jihoon doesnt even have time to process, his hands flying to your head as he arches his back. “wait—fuck!”

[saphronethaleph]

Snooze Cruise

Anakin’s head was whirling as he got into the speeder.

The Chancellor was a Sith. Chancellor Palpatine was a Sith.

The man had been a close friend for – well, since Anakin had left Tatooine, really.

And he was a Sith.

It was… too big. There was too much to grasp.

Anakin backed his speeder out of the parking spot, turned to fly to the Jedi Temple, and yawned.

This led to him nearly crashing into an air lorry, and he skidded abruptly to a halt in mid-air before shaking his head and groaning.

“I can’t believe it,” he said, out loud.

He needed to speak to someone about this.

He should probably speak to Padme about this.

Turning the speeder, Anakin took the air way to their apartment instead, doing his best to concentrate on flying instead of on the fact that Palpatine was a Sith.

The door opened, and Anakin raised his voice.

“Padme?” he called.

“Ah!” C-3P0 said, coming in from one of the rooms leading off the entrance hall. “Sir, I am afraid that Mistress Padme is not currently in. She is involved in a meeting.”

Anakin almost demanded to know if that meeting was with Obi-Wan, before shaking his head as he remembered that Obi-Wan was on Utapau.

“Should I… let her know you want to see her?” C-3P0 asked.

“No, Threepio,” Anakin waved the offer off. “I’ll just wait for her to get back. It’s… something I need to think about before we talk, anyway.”

“Oh, I see,” C-3P0 decided. “Or, rather, I don’t. But I’m quite used to such things. Do you want something to eat, Sir?”

Anakin waved that offer off as well. “No thanks. I’ll just sit down.”

He divested himself of his cloak, hanging it up on one of the hooks by the door, then went through to the main living area and sat down on the couch.

Within a few minutes, four days of no sleep had caught up with him, and he passed out.

Mace Windu glanced at the time – almost eight in the morning – and then flicked on his comlink.

The first comm code he called produced no reply, even after a wait of several minutes, and he frowned slightly before switching to a new combination.

That one, fortunately, produced a response almost immediately. Senator Padme Amidala answered the call.

“Master Jedi?” she asked. “This is Master Windu, yes?”

“That’s correct, Senator,” Mace confirmed. “I was wondering if you knew where Anakin was. I’ve called his comlink, and he hasn’t answered.”

“I don’t know where he is, no, I’ve been involved in a meeting all night,” Padme replied. “Master Jedi – did you know about the Abolition Act?”

Mace blinked.

“I’d heard of it, yes,” he said. “So far as we’re aware, it’s a legal mechanism to try and dissolve the Jedi… we’d believed it was a scheme by Darth Sidious, an attack against the Jedi.”

He glanced in the direction of the Council chamber. “That’s one reason why Obi-Wan launched his attack on General Grievous on Utapau. We hoped to draw Sidious out.”

“I don’t know if that’s what’s going on, but the Chancellor just announced that the Abolition Act was coming up for a vote,” Padme said. “I didn’t have a clue why, but if Sidious is involved… do you think he managed to get to the Chancellor?”

“It’s possible,” Mace admitted. “When is the vote?”

“It’s outside normal order, so… now,” Padme answered.

Mace turned, striding to the doors of the council chamber, and Kit, Agen, Sasee and Coleman looked up from their seats as he entered.

“Something’s happening,” he said. “Senator, can you keep us updated?”

“I’ll do my best, Master Jedi,” Padme promised.

“How important?” Kit asked.

“As important as it can get,” Mace replied. “The whole Order needs to hear this… I can feel it.”

The vote counts began coming in, and Palpatine tried to suppress a nervous twitch.

He was having to improvise. Improvising in the end game was a difficult thing to do, especially when he had no idea why his gambit had failed.

What should have happened was that he would have his new apprentice, or he would have an open break with the Jedi Order… which would earn him his new apprentice anyway.

But as of now, he had neither. And without his new apprentice, he didn’t have nearly as good an excuse for an open break with the Jedi Order… he could not very well have Anakin give his account of how the Council had been planning to bypass and replace the Chancellor.

If he was going to get his empire out of this, he needed that break. Order 66 could not take place without some kind of reason behind it, something he could point to, and yet it had to take place as soon as possible… the war was entering its final phase, and within days the Jedi would be returning home. Away from their loyal soldiers… away from their hidden assassins.

So be it.

If there was anything that would force a break with the Jedi, it was this. And, as the votes rolled in, Palpatine saw that he had managed it… at a great cost, but he had managed it.

At least four factions in the Senate had been persuaded that they had to vote in favour of the Abolition Act despite Palpatine’s professed wishes to keep the Jedi around. Two of those factions had been persuaded by Palpatine himself arguing that their votes were necessary for political reasons, and that the Act would never pass anyway.

“The motion is carried,” Mos Amedda declared.

“I bow to the wishes of the Senate,” Palpatine announced. “And now that it is law, I am bound to carry it out. The Jedi Order will be dissolved, effective…”

Immediately? No. He needed enough time for them to act rashly, not enough time for them to think.

“...as of ten in the morning, today, Coruscant time,” he decided.

The Senator for Naboo signalled to speak the instant it became possible, and her pod floated out into the central arena.

“I have a reply from Master Windu of the Jedi Council,” she said, without preamble, and Mace Windu’s holographic head appeared in projection from her systems.

“Sure,” Master Windu said. “The war’s basically over anyway.”

Palpatine blinked.

“...what?” he asked.

“The war’s basically over anyway,” Mace repeated. “An hour to pack might be a bit tight, but I think we can fit everything into some of the freighters.”

“Are you saying you’re going to just leave?” Palpatine asked, not quite sure what he was hearing.

“Yes,” Mace confirmed. “We have all been working very hard for years, often without much of a rest, and we would very much like a break. If you don’t want to keep us around, we’ll do it elsewhere.”

The image wavered, and a second hologram appeared next to it.

“We’re with you, Master Windu,” Clone Marshal Commander Bly stated. “Voting’s going on now, but I’m sure of it. All of us are – we quit. We’re your army, not the Republic’s, and that’s how it should be… you won’t waste our lives.”

“You were listening in?” Mace asked, sounding amused.

“If it affects all the Jedi, it affects all of us,” Bly declared. “And speaking for myself, Master Windu… we would very much like a break as well.”

Palpatine was staring at the holograms.

“...you are all listening in?” he said, then decided he was never going to get an opportunity better than this one. “Initiate Order Sixty-Six!”

Commander Bly just looked confused.

“Chancellor?” he said. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’d like to know that myself,” Senator Amidala admitted.

It took all of Palpatine’s immense self-control to avoid reacting to that bit of news.

Hiding Order Sixty-Six in the biochips of the clones forming the Grand Army of the Republic was the greatest bit of deception and complex planning the Sith had managed in-

Palpatine’s train of thought screeched to a halt, backed up, and examined the proper nouns involved.

...the clones weren’t part of the Grand Army of the Republic any more, or of any direct successor organization involved. They’d quit.

Someone, presumably someone Kaminoan, had simplified the programming by using a function definition that didn’t apply in this situation, and he was now buggered sideways with a lightsaber.

Anakin yawned, stretching, and his hands touched metal.

“Mwuh?” he asked, blinking a few times, then rolled over on their couch and fell onto a metal floor.

That got him the rest of the way awake, and he looked around with surprise.

He was on… a starship, with a blanket half-tangled in his legs. There were crates packed and stacked haphazardly around the bed he was on, and the quiet murmur in the Force of sentients elsewhere.

“Ah!” Threepio said, appearing at the door. “Master Anakin, sir. It is good to see you are awake. Shall I inform the rest of the Council?”

“What’s going on?” Anakin asked, touching the hilt of his lightsaber. “Where am I?”

“I’m not an expert at hyperspace navigation, sir,” Threepio replied. “That is more Artoo’s department. But I believe we are about halfway between Coruscant and the Yavin system. A lot has happened since you fell asleep.”

“Including me being moved into a spaceship?” Anakin asked.

“You were very deeply asleep, sir,” Threepio confirmed.

“…you quit?” Anakin asked, ten minutes later, looking between the holographic forms of the other Councillors – and the half-dozen Clone Commanders who were also on the call. “All of you?”

“The Senate voted to disband the Jedi Order,” Mace told him. “The Order’s not part of the Republic, but it could have caused us a lot of problems. So… we left.”

“Our ally, the Force is,” Yoda said, nodding sagely. “Helped with packing, it did.”

“The only thing we’re not sure about yet is why the Chancellor said what he said, during the meeting,” Rex told him. “We’ve been trying to work it out since we hit hyperspace. Politics in the Republic are very confused right now.”

“I could… probably help with that,” Anakin said. “Though I guess first I should say… is Padme okay? We’re – we’re married.”

That resulted in a ripple of laughter through the call.

“We know, sir,” Rex said.

“All of us,” Mace agreed. “You moved in with her.”

“It was actually causing a problem,” Ki-Adi-Mundi informed him. “Students were asking if marriage was really not allowed or just that we were supposed to pretend it wasn’t.”

“Clearly the second option,” Sasee opined. “Clearly.”

“...do you also know that the Chancellor is a Sith?” Anakin said. “He told me.”

“Okay, that is new,” Obi-Wan admitted. “Perhaps we should tell your wife. She might find it useful to know.”

[flwrstqr]

𓈃 ★ PRINCESS DIAIRIES | PARK SUNGHOON

synopsis you are a shy, awkward teenager living with your artist mother. your life is turned upside down when you discover you are the heir to the throne of genovia. at first, you're reluctant to accept your new identity. as you face challenges at school, with the media, and within yourself, you struggle to balance your normal life with your royal duties. sunghoon, who has secretly liked you for a long time, finds himself falling even more for you as he sees you grow into your new role. as you navigate your new life, you and sunghoon grow closer, sharing quiet moments and, most importantly, falling in love.

word count 6.8k+

meet the cast best friend's brother!sunghoon x quiet kid/princess!fem reader (feat haneul from kiss of life + other ocs)

genre high school au, royal au, angst, fluff, romance, best friend brother au, unpopular to popular, crack, princess diaries based

warnings swearing, kissing, small grammar errors, everyone being mean to yn at first, some annoying characters, mentions barfing, yn being played by a boy at one point, some second hand embarrassment scene 😓,

danielle's note 𖥔 so i just watched like princess diaries yesterday and i ended up falling in love with it so i wanted to write a long ass au for this. plus like i had to cook up a good plot so 😈 sorry if this is ass but anyways i hope u guys enjoy this (this fic is for my fav hoon stan ><)

﹙⠀ PLAYiNG . . . ⠀good luck babe by chappell roan, feather by sabrina carpenter, saturn by sza, i love you so by the walters, obsessed by olivia rodrigo, xo by enhypen, break up with your girlfriend by ariana grande

YOU WAKE UP TO THE SOFT CHIMES OF YOUR ALARM, gradually getting louder until you reach over and silence it. You fumble for your glasses on the bedside table. Once they're on, the world comes into focus: your room adorned with vibrant art pieces that was made by your mother.

You stretch and get out of bed, your feet touching the cool floor. Your school uniform is laid out neatly on the chair by your desk: a skirt, a crisp white blouse, and a blazer. You put on the uniform, the fabric feeling stiff but familiar. As you stand in front of the mirror, you run a brush quickly through your hair. Makeup isn’t part of your routine; you prefer to keep things simple.

Heading downstairs, you hear the familiar sounds of your mom humming along to music in her studio. You grab your backpack from the hook by the door and slip on your shoes. The house smells of fresh paint and coffee, a comforting mix you've grown up with.

“Have a good day at school, sweetheart! Also, don't be nervous during the speech!” your mom calls from her studio, not looking up from her canvas.

“Thanks, Mom. I will,” you reply softly, even though she can't see you.

Stepping outside, the morning air is cool and crisp. You take a deep breath, adjusting your backpack on your shoulders, and start walking to school. You keep your head down, not wanting to draw any attention to yourself.

YOU ARRIVE AT SCHOOL, spotting Haneul leaning against the bike racks, her face lighting up as she sees you. She's waving enthusiastically, and you can’t help but smile back. Haneul, like you, is considered one of the "losers," known for being a "nerd." But she’s your best friend, and that label doesn’t bother either of you much.

“Hey,” you greet her, adjusting your backpack.

“Morning! Ready for another thrilling day of high school?” she jokes, rolling her eyes.

You both laugh and start walking towards your first class. As usual, you pass the popular girls, Eunae and her two "minions", who are gossiping loudly by their lockers. Your eyes dart towards your crush, Siwoo, who’s with them. His blonde hair is always perfectly styled, falling just above his eyebrows in a way that frames his sharp, expressive eyes. Those eyes, a deep shade of brown, seem to hold a confident, almost teasing glint. His smile is captivating, often described as a blend of boyish charm and genuine warmth, making him instantly likable to many (such as you). Your heart sinks as you see him kissing Eunae. You roll your eyes, trying to forget it.

“Ugh, seriously?” Haneul mutters, noticing the scene as well. “She’s so fake.”

You nod in agreement, but your attention shifts as you catch sight of Sunghoon, Haneul’s older brother, standing nearby. His dark hair, slightly tousled, falls naturally around his face. His eyes, a striking shade of hazel, are often focused.

You give him a small wave. Sunghoon notices and waves back, his smile warm and genuine. The bell rings, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Come on, we don’t want to be late,” Haneul says, tugging at your sleeve.

“Yeah, let’s go,” you reply, falling into step beside her as you make your way to class.

CLASS TIME BEGINS, and your heart races as you try to focus on the lesson. When Siwoo stands up to give his speech, you can't help but be mesmerized. His blonde hair is perfect, shining under the classroom lights, and his confidence radiates as he speaks. You know Siwoo isn’t the brightest student, more of an athlete than an academic, but that doesn’t matter to you. He’s cute, and that’s enough.

As he finishes his speech, Eunae and her two friends erupt into loud cheers, their high-pitched voices echoing in the room. You roll your eyes internally but feel a pang of nervousness as you realize your turn is coming up. Public speaking has always been your weak point.

When your name is called, you stand up, feeling the weight of everyone’s eyes on you. Your legs feel like jelly as you walk to the podium, your heart pounding in your chest. You hear Eunae giggling with her friends, and it only heightens your anxiety.

"Look who's next," Eunae whispers loudly to her friends, making sure you hear.

You take a deep breath and start your speech, but the words come out in a stutter. "S-so..."

You push up your glasses, hoping it will give you some confidence, but it only makes things worse. The giggles turn into outright laughter, and you can feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Your stomach churns, making you feel like you’re going to be sick.

"Oh my God, she can't even talk properly," Eunae says, loud enough for the whole class to hear. More laughter follows her comment.

In the far corner of the room, you notice Sunghoon watching. His eyes are calm, and there's a hint of concern in his expression You feel like you're about to barf and, in a panic, you rush out of the classroom. The laughter follows you, echoing in your ears.

Once outside, you lean against the wall, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. Tears prick at your eyes as the embarrassment washes over you. You feel utterly defeated, wishing you could just disappear. You were always the invisible one, what should you expect?

AFTER SCHOOL, you walk home, the events of the day replaying in your mind. When you step inside, the familiar smell of your mom's cooking greets you. You head to the kitchen, where she’s stirring something on the stove.

"Hey, sweetheart," she says, looking up with a concerned expression. "I heard you barfed in class today. Are you okay?"

You sigh, dropping your backpack on the floor. "Yeah, it was just… really embarrassing."

Your mom walks over and gives you a comforting hug. "I'm sorry that happened. Kids can be really mean sometimes."

You nod, feeling a bit better with her support. "Thanks, Mom."

She pulls back and looks at you seriously. "There’s something I need to tell you. Your grandmother is coming over for tea next week."

You look at her, confused. "Grandmother? But we never talk to her."

"I know," your mom says, her tone softening. "This is the first time we’re going to meet her. She’s your father's mother. After your father passed away a few months ago, she reached out. She said she wanted to speak with you specifically."

You blink in surprise. "Me? Why me?"

"I don’t know," your mom admits. "But I think it’s important to hear her out. She might have something to share that’s meaningful to you."

You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Okay. I’ll talk to her."

Your mom gives you a reassuring smile. "It’ll be fine." You nod, trying to push aside any other thoughts on your mind.

YOU WALK INTO THE CAR MOTOR PLACE, the familiar scent of oil and rubber filling the air. Your heart races as you see your Mustang in the garage, a little closer to the dream car you’ve been saving up for. It still needs a lot of work, but you’re determined to have it ready for your 17th birthday.

As you approach the car, you hear the final notes of a performance. Sunghoon finishes his set and the crowd disperses, girls whispering excitedly about how hot he is. But he pays them no mind. Instead, he walks straight toward you, his eyes lighting up with a genuine smile.

"Hey," he greets, his voice smooth and warm. "Checking on the car?"

You nod, unable to help but smile back. "Yeah, it's coming along slowly but surely."

He glances at the Mustang, then back at you. "It's going to look amazing when it's done. You've been saving it up for a while,"

You blush at the compliment, feeling a flutter in your chest. "Thanks, Sunghoon."

His smile widens, and he leans a bit closer. "If you need any help with the car, just let me know. I'd be happy to lend a hand."

"Really? That would be amazing," you reply, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer.

Sunghoon's eyes twinkle "Anything for you," he says softly, before giving you one last smile.

YOU STAND AT THE ENTRANCE OF THE GRAND MANSION, your eyes wide with awe. The sheer size and elegance of the mansion are overwhelming. Fancy maids and butlers bustle around. You clutch your cheap, simple backpack, a gift from your mother three years ago, and adjust your school uniform nervously. Your hair is a bit messy, and your glasses keep slipping down your nose.

As you step inside, the grandeur of the place hits you like a tidal wave. The floors are polished to a gleaming shine, intricate chandeliers hang from the high ceilings, and every piece of furniture looks like it belongs in a museum. You can't help but feel out of place, a small figure in this space.

Just then, you hear the soft click of heels on the marble floor. You look up to see her, your grandmother, a woman you've never met before. She descends the grand staircase with an air of grace and authority, her posture perfect and her gaze steady. She's dressed in an elegant gown, a deep shade of blue that compliments her dignified demeanor. In contrast, you feel even more self-conscious about your plain school uniform.

"Hello, dear," she greets you with a refined smile. Her voice is smooth and cultured, a stark contrast to your own uncertain tone. You mumble a shy greeting in return, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Please, sit," she says, gesturing to a plush armchair near the grand fireplace. You sit down cautiously, feeling the softness of the cushion beneath you. A maid approaches and places a delicate china teacup in front of you, the steam rising in gentle curls.

Your grandmother takes a seat across from you. She reaches into a small velvet box and retrieves a necklace and charm, the gold catching the light in a mesmerizing way. "Here's a gift," she says, handing it to you, "has been passed down through our family for generations."

You take the necklace. The charm is intricate, a tiny masterpiece that speaks of history and legacy. You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. You play around with it nervously as your grandmother eyes you quietly.

As you sip your tea, you can't help but make a bit of noise, your lack of manners showing. Your grandmother eyes you critically but says nothing about your manners. Instead, she clears her throat, the sound resonating in the quiet room.

"I have some news for you," she announces, her tone serious and measured.

You stop stirring your tea and look up, pushing your glasses up your nose in a nervous habit. "What is it?" you ask, curious.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze steady and unwavering. "You are the Princess of Genovia."

For a moment, the world seems to stand still. You choke on your tea, coughing violently as you try to process her words. "What?" you exclaim.

She nods, her expression grave. "Your father was the Prince of Genovia, which makes you the next heir."

"No, no way," you stammer, shaking your head, "I'm just… an invisible me. There's no way I'm a princess."

Your grandmother's gaze softens slightly, "It's true, my dear. Your father never had the chance to tell you, but this is your birthright."

The weight of her words presses down on you, a crushing force that makes it hard to breathe. Your life, once simple and predictable, has been changed.

"No," you whisper, your voice trembling. "This can't be happening."

Your grandmother is about to explain further, her lips parting to speak, but the overwhelming reality hits you like a freight train. You stand up abruptly, your chair scraping against the floor with a harsh sound that echoes in the grand room. "I need to go," you say, your voice breaking.

Without waiting for a response, you turn and rush out of the mansion, your footsteps echoing in the vast hallway. you push the door open, the bright sunlight outside momentarily blinding you. You stumble down the steps.

You walk quickly, almost running, trying to put as much distance between yourself and the mansion as possible. How can this be real? How can you, an quiet girl with a simple life, be a princess? You are the Princess of Genovia. And your life will never be the same again.

THE NEXT DAY, the reality of the previous day’s still hangs heavily over you. You can hardly focus on anything, your mind constantly drifting back to the shocking news. You try to go about your usual routine, but everything feels different, surreal.

As you sit at the kitchen table, pushing your breakfast around your plate, you hear a knock at the door. Your mother goes to answer it, and you strain to hear the conversation. Your heart skips a beat when you hear your grandmother’s voice.

“Hello, my dear,” she greets your mother politely. “May I come in?”

“Of course,” your mother replies, sounding a bit nervous.

They walk into the kitchen together, and your grandmother’s presence fills the small room. She’s dressed impeccably, her elegance stark against the worn, cozy surroundings of your home.

“Good morning,” she says to you with a gentle smile. “I hope you’re feeling a bit better today.”

You manage a nod, but the tightness in your chest doesn’t ease. You notice your mother looks anxious, avoiding your gaze.

“Please, have a seat,” your mother offers, gesturing to a chair. Your grandmother sits gracefully, folding her hands in her lap.

“Yesterday was overwhelming, I know,” your grandmother begins, her tone soft but firm. “But we need to talk more about this. There are important things you need to understand.”

You remain silent, feeling a mix of resentment and curiosity.

“There’s a royal ball in two months,” she continues. “It’s an important event where you’ll be formally introduced as the Princess of Genovia. It’s crucial for our country and for you.”

Your mother takes a deep breath, finally looking at you. “I know this is a lot to take in,” she says. “I should have told you earlier, but I wanted to protect you. I wanted you to have a normal life.”

You feel a surge of frustration. “You knew? All this time?” you ask, your voice shaking.

Your mother nods, her eyes filled with regret. “Yes, I knew. I’m sorry, honey. I thought it was for the best.”

Your grandmother reaches out, placing a hand on yours. “I understand that this is a lot to accept. But you have a duty, a responsibility to your heritage. This is your birthright.”

You pull your hand back, feeling overwhelmed. “I’m just a normal girl. I don’t know anything about being a princess.”

Your grandmother’s expression softens. “You may feel that way now, but you have the potential to be a great leader. We will help you every step of the way. You won’t be alone in this.”

Your mother’s eyes plead with you. “Please, sweetheart. Give it a chance. We’ll support you in any way we can.”

You sit in silence for a few moments, the weight of their words pressing down on you. The idea of being a princess, attending a royal ball, and stepping into a completely different world feels terrifying. But there’s a small part of you that’s curious, that wonders what it would be like to be this new identity.

Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you say reluctantly. “I’ll do it.”

A FEW DAYS LATER, the sun casts a warm glow over your grandmother’s mansion as you arrive. You clutch your simple backpack, feeling out of place yet again as you step into the grand foyer. Your grandmother greets you with a kind smile, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

“Today’s the day,” she says, leading you to a large room filled with mirrors and high-end beauty products. “I’ve arranged for the best stylists to give you a makeover. They’ll help you look the part of a princess.”

You nod, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. As you take a seat, a team of stylists and beauticians file into the room, each one carrying various tools and products. They begin their work, chatting amiably as they discuss your transformation.

For nearly four hours, you sit patiently as they work their magic. Your hair is trimmed and styled into a sleek, elegant look that frames your face perfectly. Your eyebrows are shaped, making your eyes look bigger and more defined. They remove your glasses and fit you with contact lenses, giving you a clearer view of the world without the barrier of frames.

As they finish up, you catch glimpses of yourself in the mirror, hardly recognizing the person staring back at you. Your skin glows, your features are more defined, and you look… different. Beautiful, even.

Just then, your grandmother walks back into the room. She pauses mid-step, her eyes widening in shock as she takes in your transformation. You stand up and turn to face her, feeling a rush of nerves.

“Oh my,” she breathes, her voice filled with awe. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blush, feeling a mix of pride and embarrassment. “Really?”

“Really,” she confirms, stepping closer to take a better look. “Your hair, your eyes, everything… You look like a true princess.”

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. The stylists beam with pride, knowing they’ve done an excellent job.

Your grandmother reaches out to gently touch your hair. “This is just the beginning, my dear.”

As you walk through the grand halls of the mansion, you feel different. Lighter. More confident. You catch a glimpse of yourself in a large, ornate mirror as you pass by, and for the first time, you see not just a girl, but a princess.

THE NEXT DAY, YOU SIT NERVOUSLY IN THE BACK OF THE LIMO, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your skirt. You’ve been riding in this luxurious vehicle for a few days now, but it still feels surreal. The thought of people judging you for your sudden change in appearance and status makes your stomach churn. Today, you’re picking up Haneul and Sunghoon.

As the limo pulls up in front of their house, you take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. The driver opens the door, and Sunghoon steps inside. His jaw drops as he sees you, his eyes widening in shock.

“Y/N… you look…” He’s completely speechless, his gaze fixed on you.

Before he can finish his sentence, Haneul appears, her voice breaking the silence. “Sunghoon, get in already—” Her words trail off as she sees you, her eyes widening in surprise.

Sunghoon finally finds his voice. “You look amazing,” he says, blush creeping up his cheek.

Haneul, on the other hand, doesn’t share his enthusiasm. She crosses her arms, her expression turning sour. “So, what’s the deal? You get a makeover and now you’re one of those popular girls who’ll ditch us?”

Your heart sinks at her words. “Haneul, it’s not like that…”

“It sure seems like it,” she snaps, her voice filled with hurt. “You think you’re better than us now?”

Sunghoon, sensing the tension, tries to intervene. “Haneul, that’s not fair. Let’s hear her out.”

You feel a mix of frustration and sadness. “I haven’t changed on the inside. I’m still me. There’s just a lot going on right now.”

Haneul raises an eyebrow. “Like what?”

The limo moves closer to the school, and you feel the pressure mounting. “I can’t explain it all right now, but you need to trust me.”

As the limo approaches the school, you grab a hat from your bag and put it on, hoping to avoid drawing too much attention. You quickly get out of the car, pulling Haneul aside while Sunghoon steps out slowly, still in shock.

“Haneul, listen,” you whisper urgently, glancing around to make sure no one is overhearing. “I need to tell you something. Please, just hear me out.”

Haneul crosses her arms, still looking skeptical but nods for you to continue.

You take a deep breath, lowering your voice even further. “I’m a princess. The Princess of Genovia.”

“What?” Haneul whispers, her anger dissipating into surprise.

“It’s true,” you say, your voice trembling. “I found out a few days ago. My grandmother told me. My father was the Prince of Genovia, which makes me the next heir.”

Haneul’s expression softens as she processes your words. “Really?” she asks, her voice filled with wonder. “You’re a real princess?”

You nod, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “Yes. And it’s been overwhelming. I didn’t mean to hide it from you.”

Haneul’s face breaks into a smile, and she reaches out to squeeze your hand. “Why didn’t you just say so? That’s amazing! I’m sorry I was so harsh.”

"I'm sorry, I couldn't tell anyone." I say, shrugging.

Haneul giggles. “So, does this mean we get to visit a castle?”

You laugh, “Maybe one day. But for now, I need you both to keep this a secret.”

Haneul nods “Absolutely. My lips are sealed.”

YOU SIT IN CLASS, your hat pulled low to avoid drawing attention. Your fingers tap nervously on your desk as you try to focus on your work. The day has already been overwhelming, and the last thing you want is more eyes on you. But as the class progresses, you hear a familiar, smug voice from across the room.

“Sir, Y/N is wearing a hat, and I think that’s against the school dress code,” Eunae says, a smirk playing on her lips.

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as the class turns to look at you. The teacher glances up from his desk, adjusting his glasses.

“Oh, well, that is true,” he says, his tone regretful but firm. “Y/N, unfortunately, you have to take your hat off.”

Taking a deep breath, you reach up and slowly remove your hat, letting your hair cascade down your back. You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, and you brace yourself for the inevitable laughter or teasing. Instead, you hear a murmur of whispers filling the room.

“Oh my god, Y/N, you’re so pretty! Can we be friends?” one girl exclaims.

“Your hair is gorgeous!” another student adds, their tone filled with genuine admiration.

You look up, seeing the mean girls from your class suddenly smiling at you, their previous disdain replaced with a strange, almost predatory friendliness.

“I think it’s a wig,” someone whispers, a hint of skepticism in their voice.

Before the whispers can escalate, Haneul’s voice cuts through the noise. “I think her hair is gorgeous,” she says loudly, her tone firm and supportive. “But let’s get back to class. We have more important things to focus on.”

Her words have the desired effect, and the classroom falls silent. The teacher nods approvingly and returns to the lesson. You glance at Haneul, gratitude evident in your eyes. She gives you a reassuring smile, and you feel a sense of relief wash over you.

YOU'RE WALKING TO SCHOOL ON AC RISP MORNING. Sunghoon is beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his uniform.

"So, YN," Sunghoon begins, his tone casual, but there's a hint of something more beneath it. "Do you have any plans for Saturday?"

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not really. Why do you ask?"

Sunghoon hesitates for a moment, then looks at you with a mix of hope and excitement. "Well, my band is performing at this new place downtown. It's kind of a big deal for us, and I was wondering if you'd like to come."

You stop walking, "Really? That sounds amazing! I'd love to come."

A grin spreads across Sunghoon's face, and he looks relieved. "Great! It starts at seven. I'll send you all the details later." As you start walking again, the conversation shifts back to lighter topic.

"You know," you say after a while, "I've always wanted to see you perform. This is going to be so cool."

Sunghoon chuckles, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "I'm glad you're excited. It means a lot to me that you'll be there."

When you reach the school gates, Sunghoon turns to you, "Thanks, YN. For coming on Saturday. I know it's going to be awesome with you there."

You smile, giving him a gentle nudge. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. See you later,"

A FEW DAYS PASS, and you're walking through the bustling school courtyard, lost in thought about what you might wear on Saturday, when you hear someone call your name.

You turn around to see Siwoo, the school's star athlete and the crush you've harbored for as long as you can remember. He's walking toward you with that effortless confidence that always makes your heart race. The chatter around you seems to fade as he gets closer, and you can feel a rush of butterflies in your stomach.

"Hey, YN," Siwoo says, his voice smooth and casual. "Got a minute?"

You nod, trying to keep your cool. "Sure, what's up?"

Siwoo runs a hand through his hair, looking almost bashful for a moment. "So, I broke up with Eunae."

Your eyes widen in surprise. Eunae, the queen bee of the school and someone who has made your life particularly difficult, is no longer with Siwoo? You can't help but feel a tiny spark of hope. "Oh, wow. I didn't know."

Siwoo shrugs, his usual smirk returning. "Yeah, it just wasn't working out. Anyway, there's this beach party on Saturday. I was wondering if you wanted to go with me."

Your heart nearly stops. Is this really happening? You, the one who has always admired him from afar, being asked to a party by Siwoo? Without hesitation, you blurt out, "Oh my god? Yes?"

Siwoo's smirk widens, and he gives you a wink. "Great. I'll pick you up at seven."

As he walks away, you can't help but watch him go, your mind spinning. The butterflies in your stomach are in full force now, and you feel like you're floating. You finally manage to turn around and head to your next class, but your thoughts are excitement and disbelief.

For the rest of the day, you can't focus on anything. You keep replaying the moment in your mind, wondering if it was all a dream. But no, it was real, and now you have plans for Saturday with Siwoo.

YOU STEP OUT OF THE LIMO, adjusting your school bag on your shoulder. You take a deep breath, ready to face another day of classes and the usual high school chaos. But today, something feels off.

Suddenly, there's a commotion. A crowd of photographers and reporters seem to materialize out of nowhere, cameras flashing and microphones thrust towards you.

"Is it true you're the princess of Genovia?"

"How long have you known?"

"What's your next step as royalty?"

You stand there, stunned and overwhelmed. Your heart races as the realization dawns on you: the secret is out. You glance around frantically and spot Haneul, your best friend and the only person you trusted with the truth. Her eyes are wide with shock, and you can't help but wonder if she was the one who let it slip.

Everyone around you is whispering, their curious and excited gazes fixed on you. Some are even reaching out, asking for your autograph.

Before you can fully process what's happening, you're gently but firmly guided through the crowd by school security and pushed towards the principal's office.

You sit in the chair, your mind spinning with a thousand thoughts and questions. Moments later, the door opens, and your grandmother strides in.

"YN," she says, her tone calm but serious. "We need to discuss the next steps for you. I've already spoken to the principal about the necessary procedures to ensure your safety and academic success."

You nod, still in a daze. "What's going to happen now?"

She sits down beside you, her expression softening slightly. "Things will change, my dear. There will be more security, and certain aspects of your education will need to be adjusted to accommodate your new responsibilities. But don't worry, we'll handle this together."

The principal enters, looking a bit flustered but maintaining a professional demeanor. "We've arranged for additional security measures starting today. Also, your schedule will be slightly adjusted."

You take a deep breath, trying to absorb everything.

THE SUN IS SETTING OVER THE BEACH, casting a warm golden glow across the sand. The beach party is in full swing, with music playing and laughter filling the air. You’re sitting with Siwoo by a bonfire, enjoying the feeling of the cool breeze and the warmth of his presence. He’s been attentive all evening, and you can hardly believe that you're here with him, the guy you’ve admired for so long.

He leans in closer, his voice low. "I'm really glad you came tonight, YN."

You smile, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "Me too, Siwoo."

Just as the moment seems perfect, a sudden burst of light blinds you. You blink, confused, as you realize it’s the flash of a camera. Then another, and another. You look around and see a swarm of paparazzi emerging from the shadows, their cameras aimed directly at you.

"Princess YN, over here!"

"How does it feel to be the princess of Genovia?"

The questions come rapid-fire, and the crowd presses closer. Panic sets in as you realize your private moment is being invaded. You look at Siwoo, who seems just as stunned as you are.

"Come on, we need to get out of here," he says, grabbing your hand.

You run together, dodging through the throng of people and flashing cameras. He leads you to a small beach shed and pulls you inside, closing the door behind you.

Siwoo looks at you, concern in his eyes. "Are you okay?"

You nod, trying to catch your breath. "Yeah, I just… I didn't expect this."

He steps closer, his gaze intense. "Neither did I. But, YN, there's something I've wanted to do all night."

He leans in, and for a moment, you think he's going to kiss you. But something feels off. The reality of your situation crashes down on you. This isn’t how you imagined it, not surrounded by paparazzi and hiding in a shed.

You try to pull away, but Siwoo's grip tightens slightly.

Just as you're about to push him away, the door of the shed creaks open slightly, and the flash of a camera captures the moment. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks. This was all a setup. Siwoo purposely kissed you in front of the cameras.

"I can't do this," you say, your voice trembling as you push your way out. "I'm sorry."

Before he can respond, you slip out of the shed, the flashes blinding you once again. You hear the paparazzi shouting and the clicks of their cameras, but all you can think about is getting away. You run down the beach, tears stinging your eyes.

THE NEXT MORNING, you pick up the newspaper on your doorstep and your heart drops at the front-page headline:

THE DAILY BUZZ

PRINCESS OF GENOVIA HAS A BOYFRIEND?

Photos of the Princess in a Beach Scandal

Your stomach churns as you see the photos of Siwoo kissing you splashed across the front page. The headline is bold, the images intrusive and unmissable. The story details the scandal that erupted at the beach party, with paparazzi capturing every moment of your private exchange.

You arrive at school, clutching the newspaper in your hand. Whispers follow you through the halls, eyes lingering on you with curiosity and judgment. You can hear snippets of conversations as you pass by.

"Did you see the photos? I can't believe it's true!"

"She's really the princess of Genovia, and now she's got a boyfriend?"

The words sting, but what hurts more is the realization you have yet to face: Sunghoon. You had forgotten about the whole performance on Saturday. You scan the hallway and finally spot him by his locker, his face buried in a book. As you approach, he looks up, and your heart sinks further. His eyes are cold, filled with disappointment and hurt.

"Sunghoon," you start, your voice barely above a whisper. "I—"

But before you can continue, the bell rings, echoing through the corridor. You glance at the clock, realizing you have to get to your private class. You want to stay and explain, to apologize, but you know you can’t afford to be late.

"I'm sorry," you manage to say, but Sunghoon has already turned away.

YOU RETREAT TO YOUR ROOM, hoping for some quiet time. Hours pass as you lie on your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything in your mind—the paparazzi, the headlines, Sunghoon's hurt expression.

As the night deepens, a realization slowly dawns on you, one that sends a jolt through your heart. You don't have feelings for Siwoo. The excitement and attraction were all lies, fueled by the thrill of being noticed by someone so popular. But when you think about Sunghoon, it's different. You remember all the moments you've shared, the way he makes you laugh, the way he genuinely cares about you.

Sitting up, you take a deep breath. It’s Sunghoon. It’s always been Sunghoon.

YOU PACE AROUND YOUR LIVING ROOM, your heart heavy with the weight of the misunderstanding. Mustering the courage, you pick up the phone and call him.

"Hey, can you come over? I really need to talk to you," you ask softly.

There's a pause on the other end before Sunghoon finally agrees.

When he arrives, he looks weary, the pain still evident in his eyes. You take a deep breath and begin, "Sunghoon, I'm so sorry. I need to explain what happened. Siwoo was using me, and I didn't realize it until it was too late. I didn't meant to skip your band performance."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I… I believe you."

"I know, and I'm so sorry," you repeat, your voice earnest. After a moment, you look at him, your heart pounding. "There's something else. Can you come to the ball with me? It's the Genovia Special Ball, and I want you to come with me."

Sunghoon looks at you, surprised. "What?"

You smile a little and repeat yourself, "Will you come with me to the ball?"

After a few moments, he nods slowly. "Okay, I'll go."

THE DAY OF THE GRAND BALL HAD FINALLY ARRIVED, but instead of excitement, you were overwhelmed with stress. Your grandmother was incredibly upset about the whole situation, her stern words echoing in your mind. The pressure of becoming a princess was suffocating, and in a moment of desperation, you decided to run off.

As you hurriedly packed your things, you noticed a letter on your desk. With trembling hands, you opened it and began to read.

"Dearest Y/N,

If you’re reading this, it means the time has come for you to embrace your destiny. I know it seems daunting, but remember, you are stronger than you think. You have the heart of a lion and the grace of a swan. Being a princess isn’t about perfection; it’s about kindness, courage, and love. I believe in you, and I know you will make me proud. Trust yourself, and remember, you are never alone.

With all my love, Dad"

Tears welled up in your eyes as you read his words. You realized, you couldn't run away from reality and you had to face it.

Meanwhile, at the ball, Sunghoon was waiting anxiously. He felt betrayed and worried as you hadn't shown up yet. Your grandmother, too, was nervous, glancing at the door every few minutes, hoping you would walk through.

Sunghoon paced near the entrance, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds. "Where is she?" he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists. He felt a pang of hurt, thinking you had left him again.

Your grandmother, regal yet tense, addressed the crowd with a forced smile. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for your patience. My granddaughter will be joining us shortly."

Determined, you dashed out into the pouring rain, hailing a taxi to the grand party. The rain soaked through your dress, but you didn’t care. You arrived, drenched from head to toe, but your resolve was unshaken. You rushed inside, interrupting your grandmother's speech. She was shocked to see you, but relief washed over her face as she motioned for you to come forward.

"Y/N, my dear," she said, her voice trembling with emotion. "You made it."

Soaking wet, you stood beside her, and she handed you the microphone. Despite your usual fear of public speaking, you felt an unexpected calmness. You began your speech, your voice steady and clear.

"Ladies and gentlemen," you started, taking a deep breath, "I apologize for my tardiness. Today, I was reminded of the true meaning of being a princess. It’s not about the crown or the title, but about the responsibility to lead. My father’s words reminded me of this, and I am here to honor him and all of you."

You paused, scanning the room filled with expectant faces. "Being a princess means embracing the values that truly matter: compassion, integrity, and dedication to our people. It's about standing up for what is right, even when it is difficult. It's about listening to the voices of those who cannot be heard and offering a hand to those in need."

You took another deep breath, feeling the weight of the crown yet also the support of your father's spirit. "My father taught me that true leadership comes from the heart. It's about being a beacon of hope and a pillar of strength for others. I promise to uphold these values and to be the princess that you all deserve."

The crowd listened intently, and by the time you finished, they erupted in cheers. Your grandmother placed the crown on your head, and you were officially crowned princess.

YOU SLIPPED INTO A BREATHTAKING GOWN OF SILK AND LACE , its intricate design accentuating your every movement. Your hair was swept up into an elegant chignon, adorned with delicate jewels that sparkled under the ballroom lights.

You took a deep breath, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement as you re-entered the ballroom. The music had started, and couples were already dancing. Your eyes searched the room until they found Sunghoon, who was waiting for you near the dance floor. His eyes lit up when he saw you, and he quickly made his way to your side.

"You look stunning," he whispered, offering his hand. You blushed and took it, feeling the warmth of his touch.

"Thank you," you replied softly. "Shall we?"

He led you to the center of the dance floor, and the music shifted to a slow, romantic melody. Sunghoon's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he began to lead you in the dance. The world seemed to fade away as you moved in perfect harmony, your eyes locked on each other.

"You did amazing tonight," Sunghoon said, his voice low and sincere. "I'm so proud of you."

You smiled, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection. "I couldn't have done it without you," you admitted. "Thank you for believing in me."

As the dance continued, the room seemed to blur around you, leaving only the two of you in focus. Sunghoon's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Y/N," he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek. "There's something I've wanted to tell you for a long time."

Your heart raced, and you felt a flutter of anticipation. "What is it?" you whispered, barely able to breathe.

"I love you," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I always have."

Before you could respond, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours. His hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you even closer, while his other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin.

You could feel his heartbeat through the closeness, and you melted into his embrace. Your hands instinctively reached up, one resting on his shoulder while the other gently tangled in his hair.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other.

"I love you too, Sunghoon," you confessed, your voice trembling with happiness. "I always will."

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iii

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 5.3k+

Warnings: some time skips (none too huge), oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, lots of introspection, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, themes of abandonment, mention of love bombing, reoccurring nightmares, sleep paralysis, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, death (minor character), life-threatening accident (major character)

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: ANGST ANGST ANGST...don't say I never warned you hahaha. Anyway, once again, I had an amazing time writing this! (although nervous af 👉🏼 👈🏼) Just FYI, there are some time skips as this starts a few weeks after the gala! So to clarify, it’s now 3 months since oc’s divorce was officially finalized, as in done (the process itself took way longer). The chapter continues from there and yeah, the pace is picked up. Okay, let’s go! Enjoy! 🥰

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Fresh linen. Warm breeze. The smell and sound of the ocean.

You know this place too well, like a memory you hoped to have forgotten. Why are you here now? You glance around, taking in the familiar details—the blank ceiling above, the soft comforter that curls around your body like silk against your skin, and delicate rose petals scattered at the foot of the bed. It’s exactly as it was before — it feels exactly the same; too quiet, too peaceful, and too good to be true.

The sunlight streaming through the window is blinding, yet it draws you in with a force you can't resist. Carefully, you stand up, your feet meeting the cool wood floor, and you shiver. Each step you take towards the window feels heavier, like wading through water. When you reach the window, you see the sandy beach below, the waves beating rhythmically against the shore. It’s beautiful, but the painful kind.

To the left, a young couple, not much older than yourself, their hands tightly intertwined, as if afraid to let go. To the right, an older couple sitting further up the beach, comfortably silent as they take in the horizon, reminiscent of their many years together. You always dreamt of achieving the latter, yet here you stand, having neither, and the chances of ever obtaining it growing dimmer with each passing day.

For many, this was supposed to be a place of happiness, a symbol of love, promises, and new beginnings, but not for you. For you, it was a cocoon, trapping you in a deceptive comfort. You close your eyes, trying to steady your rapid breathing, yet it doesn’t prove to be of much help. Images from your past that you’ve tried blocking out of your mind time and time again suddenly resurface — the arguments, the tears, the feeling of everything and nothing at the same time.

“You’re up early,” His voice startles you, causing you to spin around in a panic. At that moment, your heart tightens in your chest, and a cold sweat forms on your brow. You thought you were alone. You’re certain of it. Yet the sight of your ex-husband standing only a few feet away, his hair still damp from his morning shower, is enough to leave you completely speechless.

"Why are you here?" you whisper, your voice trembling.

"Why are you here?" he counters, his dark eyes piercing into yours. "Isn't this what you wanted? To remember us, to remember how it felt to be together?”

What? This isn't making any sense. Why is he talking to you as if he were a ghost? Your eyes search frantically around the room until you spot it—the wedding band on his finger. No, not again. You hear yourself plead, but the words don't leave your lips. All at once, the room begins to feel smaller, the walls closing in on you. You're stuck in another manifestation of your past, this time reliving your honeymoon, three years ago in Greece.

"I didn't want this," you say, your voice barely audible. "I wanted to forget this."

"But you can't forget, can you?" he says, stepping closer. “You remember this view. You remember the floors and the walls. You remember that we had our first time together here and promised our devotion to each other."

“That’s not fair, Jungkook," you reply, taking a step back, "it's not fair at all, you left me. You don't get to patronize me like this."

“We both know our marriage came with stipulations, __. So when did I ever give you a reason to stay? Or to love me?”

You’re back in the bed, the sheets now suffocating rather than comforting. The sound of the ocean is louder, more insistent, drowning out your thoughts. You want to scream, to run, but you’re paralyzed by the fear, the guilt, the regret.

"This isn’t real,” you say to yourself, tears streaming down your face. “I’m dreaming, none of this is happening.”

“You can't escape what we had, or what we lost. We’ll always be here, together __, in this place,” he says softly, reaching out to touch your hand.

"No," you whisper, pulling your hand away. "I need to wake up. I need to let go...of you."

The room fades, his figure dissolving into the shadows. The sound of the ocean becomes a distant murmur as you fight to open your eyes. Wake up, please wake up. It's your own pleads chanting in your head. Finally, with a gasp, you awake, the nightmare diminishing like vapor.

“Fuck,” you curse, fingers gripping your sheets, “just another damn dream.” Rolling onto your back, you take a deep breath before reaching out for the glass of water on your nightstand. Its coolness soothes your dry throat. You reach for your phone next, checking the time—4:47 AM. Too early to start the day, too late to attempt falling back to sleep.

Your thumb hovers over Jimin’s name in your text threads. It would be 10 AM where he is. You consider sending a message, but you find yourself at a loss for words. Forget it, you lock your phone and rise from your bed, you’ll go for a walk instead. Yeah, it’s brisk outside, but the fresh air will help clear your mind.

After tossing on your warmest coat and scarf, you head outside, the sun beginning to break over the horizon. At first, you wander aimlessly, lost in thought as you pass the odd person or two on the sidewalk. One individual accidentally knocks into you, yet he's quick to apologize. You easily understand their rush; perhaps they've just finished the night shift and are eager to reach the comfort of home.

You imagine their loved ones who must be waiting for them. You could be wrong, and maybe you're biased, but the image you depict is a future you once envisioned for yourself—one of laughter, love, and a warm family. It’s a dream you secretly carried as a child, amidst your unstable upbringing. But as the years passed, what was once a lifelong aspiration felt more and more elusive, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It seems, in the end, it was just a dream…nothing more.

Of course, you've achieved other goals instead, success in your career for one. It's what you wanted most the more you became an adult. Even before Jungkook came in the picture you were thriving. Yes, you needed investors to expand, but you had already made a strong name for yourself, hence the reason his company even reached out to you for a partnership in the first place.

The second, and more formidable goal you’ve achieved was saving your company. You built your business with an earnest heart, good morals, and an ambition to serve a community. You couldn’t let it all be washed out by a larger, greedier industry giant. You had to do something. Too bad your judgment was skewed the day you saw a similar ambition in Jungkook’s eyes; he was just as determined as you to save what was his.

For a while you got what you wanted, stability for your business. But you got too invested, too short-sighted to anticipate that one day, it would all feel hollow without someone proper to share it with. Alas, your prior hopes, the ones you thought were buried long ago, began returning to you as if they were an overwhelming tsunami.

You wanted warmth.

You wanted intimacy.

You wanted a home.

You sought companionship with Jungkook but no, you read the signs all wrong. Once you dropped the L word, his attentiveness towards you skyrocketed. He began calling you while you were apart, surprising you with little gifts, and setting more time aside so you could both take Bam to the dog park on free days. But then it all stopped. After months of showering you with attention, his efforts exhausted him, so he looked for the first exit out.

You remember getting the text one afternoon— When will you be home tonight? We need to talk about something. Selfishly, you hoped he was going to tell you that you could take that trip to Fiji together. You had been hinting at it for the last two weeks. Of course, you were wrong because the last time you checked, trip itineraries didn’t come with divorce papers. At that moment, you realized that Jungkook didn’t try to love you in the slightest, he tried loving at you; love bombing 101. Your ties are now completely severed.

Yesterday marked three months since your divorce was finalized. You didn’t cry like you thought you would, but you did meet with Melody that day. As your therapist, she offered you her empathy, validation, and perspective. You feel you’ve gotten better since you started meeting with her, finally beginning to heal. Yet the unsettling dream that haunted your sleep last night shows you there are many things still left to resolve, feelings you need to confront, but where to start?

You love your ex-husband, but why?

Can it even be called love?

And do you really need him to love you back?

While you can only offer fragments of an answer for the first two, you seem to have a better-formed answer for the last.

No, you don’t need Jungkook to love you. He’s proven to you time and time again that you are not the one he can bear his heart to. He’s always reiterating that he wants you to find someone else, someone more deserving of you, whatever that means. Likely, it’s all projection. Out of the two of you, he’s the one more likely to re-marry.

As for you, you’ll always love him, at least a semblance of it. After all, he was once a part of you. But what was once a part of you, doesn’t need to be anymore. You have to let him go...though you wish you didn't have to.

You continue walking straight until you find yourself drawn to a small park overlooking the city skyline. It's fairly empty, with only a few people nearby. As you settle onto a weathered bench, you take in the view before you. It stretches endlessly. Sunrises have always held a special place in your heart—the amber glow breaking through the abyss of darkness as if a beacon of hope.

"You'll get through this __," you reassure yourself, “one day at a time.”

“Happy six months, boss!”

A goofy, boxy smile graces the man’s lips as he leans against the doorframe of your office. You take in his appearance: crème-colored sweater paired with dark brown slacks, the fabric impeccably tailored to his tall, lean frame. His ebony hair is perfectly parted down the center and feathered out to either side of his face, giving him a soft, approachable look. The glasses are new though, round with a hint of gold. Though a minor accessory, they seem to tie the rest of the look together.

Classy, yet cozy, you hum silently, it suits him.

Everything about the way he’s dressed today complements his features—not that it could be any other way, as Taehyung could never not look good in something. You learned that the hard way when you opted against a gaudy shirt and pant set your stylists suggested he wear for a commercial. Taehyung, being a free spirit, decided to try it on for kicks, and yeah, it strangely worked. He ended up shooting the entire commercial with it on. That video’s gotten your business the highest engagement rate across all your media platforms to this day.

“Mr. Kim, does six months of working together really merit a celebratory drop-in?” You lean back in your desk chair, arms folded as you narrow your eyes at the man. You're taunting him, not that he minds.

“Please,__,” he starts, stepping further into the room, his presence effortlessly filling the space. “The only person that still calls me that is the intern who works on set with us. Makes me feel old, like I’m double my real age.”

“Well, you are older than both of us.”

Taehyung gives you the look, a mix of amusement and mild aggravation.

“Two years is hardly considered older, but if you’re done trying to prod me, I’d like to ask you a series of serious questions.”

“Okay, what?” You straighten your back, curious to know what he’s thinking.

“Red or white wine?” He waits for your response, eyes seemingly hopeful. You're unsure where he's going with this, so you delay your response, suspicious of the spontaneity of the inquiry.

“Red,” you respond, cautiously. Taehyung seems pleased.

“Strawberries or blueberries?”

“Strawberries, though I prefer cherries most."

“Science or literature?"

"Literature." You surprise him with this one. "I like books, vintage ones."

"Do a lot of reading in your spare time?" he asks.

"When I get some, yes."

"Me too. Tolstoy?"

"Occasionally," you answer. "Where are you going with this, Taehyung?"

He shrugs. "Just making conversation." He pauses before continuing, “I also happen to know a place that offers all those things plus private bookings. How about you and I go for dinner tonight, as colleagues? If you hate the wine, I’ll drink it for you.”

The weight of his request hits you like a ton of bricks. Apart from a handful of social events, you and Taehyung haven't exactly mingled outside of the office. His sudden invitation to go out for dinner takes you by surprise, especially considering the nature of your professional relationship. However, you can't deny the subtle shifts in his behavior, the way he's been checking in on you more often, especially since the Winter Gala. Weeks have passed since then, but, no doubt, the memory of that night still lingers in both your minds—the shaming from a bitter business competitor, the unwanted press shining a light on your divorce, and your ex-husband who so easily approached you like it was nothing.

Taehyung suggested for you to slip away through the back door with him, offering to drive you home himself rather than leaving you with your limo driver. But you declined, feeling embarrassed that he wasn't merely a witness to the night's events, but also made to be a spectacle himself. You never wanted him to feel like he had to pity you or coax you through your personal trials. Being a good colleague is one thing, but he didn't need to go above and beyond.

“I don’t know if I can join you tonight, I'm sorry. I have a lot to do,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. It's not far from the truth with the mountain of business reports and budget plans to look over. Though your business remains functioning, it's a lot to maintain, especially with the number of investors having withdrawn their support once news got out about your marital separation. It's unfortunate how much a person's situation and the things they've built can change on someone else's dime.

“You sure?" Taehyung tries again, careful not to sound pushy. "The place isn’t overly posh, but we could go elsewhere if you’d prefer."

“I’m sorry, Taehyung, maybe another time?” you say, fingers fidgeting with a few documents on your desk, a nervous habit you developed ages ago. “I-"

“I understand,” he says, his expression softening, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes before he masks it with a gentle smile. "I have a film shoot that might go late anyway. Speaking of which, I'm expected on set in about half an hour so I'm going to head out, but if you change your mind, you know how to reach me."

You nod, recalling having his contact in your phone. The two of you agreed it would be easier to coordinate meetings and schedules this way. "I will, thank you. Good luck with your filming."

As you watch him leave, a twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience. Perhaps you shouldn't have dismissed him so quickly, considering how insistent he seemed. It's as if he was genuinely looking forward to the affair.

No, you can't entertain it any further. You have no way of knowing how far the night might've led—it's best to leave Kim Taehyung alone.

When you declined Taehyung's invitation to get dinner, you didn’t expect it to result in not seeing or hearing from him for the next week and a half. As an endorser, he doesn't work at the office regularly, coming and going as needed and since you hadn’t had any promotional projects for him recently, his absence seemed normal at first.

But this was Kim Taehyung. The same Taehyung who loved making spontaneous visits to the company, especially towards the end of the week. He often came in once, twice, sometimes three times a week to talk with Namjoon, your secretary, in particular. Somehow, the pair had become friends, and since Namjoon’s desk was near yours, Taehyung would drop by whenever he saw your door open. So, not hearing from him for 11 days straight was strange, like he'd vanished.

It was now Friday evening, the clock pushing 5 pm. You consider texting him to make sure he's okay, but wouldn’t that be hypocritical? You had agreed with yourself to leave him alone. Maybe he was on vacation, perhaps at a vineyard, or had taken on another film project. Being a highly talented actor, Taehyung had no shortage of casting directors contacting him for their movies and TV shows.

Embarrassingly, you hadn’t actually seen any of his movies. You enjoyed a good rom-com now and then, like the ones Taehyung starred in, but you usually opted for something more mindless when you had the time to watch anything.

You can imagine the loyal following he has though, as Taehyung was the epitome of a "dream boat" with his natural good looks and expressive eyes. He must be good at kiss scenes, which must be especially difficult for anyone dating him. You know you'd have a hard time accepting it at least, the fact that your flawless actor boyfriend was off making out with equally beautiful co-stars on set, that is. Anyway, as your endorser, maybe you should try supporting his films a bit more. There had to be one that would catch your eye.

Curious, you open a new tab on your phone and search for him.

"Holy fuck," the curse leaves your lips the minute the search returns. Dozens of articles display on your phone screen at once, all covering South Korean actor Kim Taehyung's recent motorcycle accident. You checked the publishing date—six hours ago. “Taehyung’s in the hospital. He’s in the fucking hospital!”

Panicked, you leave your office to speak with your secretary.

“Ms. __,” Namjoon greets you immediately, a trace of hesitation in his tone upon seeing your frazzled state. “Is everything alright?”

“Joon,” you refer to him by his pet name, “Did you know that Taehyung’s in the hospital?”

“What?” He seems as shocked as you, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm.

“It happened this morning around eleven or something. It was a collision, a motorcycle accident. Oh god, he’s—he’s been taken to the ER,” you choke out the words, struggling to maintain your composure as you try recalling one of the articles you skimmed. “We have to go. I have to go right now.”

“I’m coming with you.” Namjoon leaps from his chair, grabbing his keys from his desk drawer. “I’ll drive.”

“No,” you stop him, “I don’t know how long this’ll be and you usually work until 5:30, so I don't want you to have to be stuck at the hospital with me. I want you to be able to call it an early night if you want. We'll take separate cars over.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll meet you over there then?”

“Yeah.” You nod back, clutching your keys harder in your palm. “Yeah, sounds good.” You turn around to head for the nearest exit, but your secretary stops you mid-step.

“__,” he calls you by your name, having known you for the past decade permits him to do so. He softens his eyes when he sees the worry in your own clear as day. “He’s gonna be okay. We have to believe that. Please drive safe.”

“You too,” you say, then disappear from his sight.

When you arrive, it’s a madhouse. Sirens blare as ambulances rush into the hospital parking lot, doctors and nurses race from room to room, and fans—so many fans—crowd outside, all waving signs of comfort and support.

“I'm here to see Kim Taehyung,” you say urgently to the charge nurse. She recognizes you immediately and throws you a look of distaste, but you’re too focused on the emergency at hand to care. “I’m sure you know who I am, but I need to see him. We work together, we're colleagues.”

“Ms. __,” she replies, surprisingly calm and collected amidst her obvious dislike of you. “I’m afraid he’s currently receiving serious medical attention and won’t be able to have any visitors at the moment.”

“I’ll wait,” you blurt out the words faster than you anticipate. You feel like you're eating your words from earlier about leaving him alone, but this is different—his life is on the line. "I can wait for him.”

“Visiting hours are only until 8 pm. I really don’t think—”

“Please,” you interrupt, your voice stern and urgent. “He's part of my team. He's my...friend. I have to know if he’s okay.”

The nurse hesitates, her expression softening slightly as she sees the genuine concern in your eyes. “Alright,” she finally says, her tone firm but kinder. “You can wait in the family lounge, but I can’t promise you’ll be able to see him anytime soon."

“Thank you,” you say, relief flooding through you. She directs you to a quiet room down the hall, away from the commotion where you're better able to calm your racing thoughts. You find a seat in the far corner immediately and send a quick text to Namjoon, letting him know where you are.

As you wait, the minutes drag by painfully slow. You can’t stop replaying the articles in your mind from earlier, the words “motorcycle accident” echoing like a mantra. How did this even happen? How bad was his condition? How much strain is this going to put on his acting career? You wish you knew.

A handful of nurses enter the lounge occasionally, calling out names and providing updates, but none of them are Taehyung’s. You find your ears burning every time the door opens, heart racing, only to sink back into your seat when it’s not about him.

Finally, you catch sight of Namjoon, his face mirroring your concern. He spots you immediately and rushes over, taking a seat in the chair beside you. “Any news?” he asks, his voice low and urgent.

“Not yet,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “They said he’s receiving serious medical attention and don't know when we'll be able to see him. We have to leave by 8.”

Namjoon nods, his expression grim but unwavering “We’ll wait together.”

"If you need to leave sooner than—"

"I know," he interrupts. "I appreciate it, but please let me be here too."

You sit in silence from then on, exhaustion beginning to weigh heavy on both your shoulders. It's not until 7:35 when a doctor walks into the lounge, his tired eyes scan the room until they land on you and Namjoon.

“Are you here for Kim Taehyung?” he asks. "I'm Dr. Min."

You nod, your heart in your throat.

“He’s stable for now,” Dr. Min explains, “but he's still in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can.”

“Can we see him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs. “Only for a few minutes. And you need to be prepared—he’s heavily sedated and has sustained significant injuries.”

“I understand,” you reply, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

Dr. Min leads you through a maze of hallways until you reach the ICU. As you enter Taehyung’s room, the sight of him hooked up to machines and covered in bandages nearly breaks you. You take a deep breath and step closer, Namjoon right next to you.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he remains motionless, his breathing steady and rhythmic. The severity of his injuries is evident in the way he lies.

“We're here, Taehyung,” Namjoon continues, noticing your slightly frozen state. “We’re both here for you. Please, fight through this. You and I, we're good pals, remember? Like brothers. You have to—"

Although the more collected one before, Namjoon begins to struggle with his words. You place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Having known him for 10 years, you know that despite his strong exterior, he has one of the softest souls you know.

"I think I have to go, __. It'll be better if I see him when he's awake. I want to stay longer, but I just don't know if I can."

"I understand, we can't stay much longer anyway. Go home and get some rest. Dr. Min will call us when he's awake and able to talk."

After you give him a hug, Namjoon leaves the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung. You end up pulling up a chair beside his bed and slowly reach out to touch his hand. It's instinctive for you, the need to feel his heartbeat overpowering any other thought.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Taehyung," you start, your voice a mere murmur. "You'll push through this, right? Like in the movies you film. I confess I haven't seen any of them yet, but—but I will! That's how I found out about all this actually. We hadn't seen you for nearly two weeks, so I searched you up. Not in a weird way though, okay? Not like...anyway, I'm sorry I said no to you that day. When you asked to go for dinner, it threw me off. This whole thing with my ex-husband just has my mind in fifty million directions, so I promise it wasn't you. I hope you didn't think that."

"You've always seemed to show up for me, whether it's for the good of the company or even a little emotionally in some aspects. With the reputation I have these days, I'll always be grateful that you chose to work with me. You have a good heart, Taehyung, so much that I think if we ever got close, I think it might be unbearable for me," you pause, a couple of tears slipping down your face.

Just then, a creaking of the room's door momentarily pulls your attention away. Dr. Min stands a few feet away, clearing his throat—a gentle but firm signal that it's time for you to leave.

"I have to go soon, but I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Even if you're still asleep or not, I'll stop in and sit with you for a while because...because I need to be sure that you'll be alright. Namjoon will come see you too when he's ready. But I'll see you in the morning, alright Kim?"

You squeeze Taehyung's hand gently before heading out of the room, thanking the medical staff along the way.

When you get home, the first thing you do is head straight for the bathroom. Your whole body feels riddled with stress and exhaustion, and you know that the only thing that can offer even the slightest amount of solace is the warmth of water.

Yet not four minutes after immersing yourself in your tub does your phone ring, demanding your attention. Being this late into the evening, you figure it has to be Jimin.

But you're wrong.

When you reach to answer the call, it's actually an unrecognizable number that's flashing on the screen. You hesitate for a moment, debating whether to answer or let it go to voicemail.

"Hello?" you answer cautiously, curiosity getting the best of you.

There's a brief pause on the other end before his voice comes through, words slightly muddled. "Hey, it's me," he says, his tone soft. "I've been...I've been thinking about my life, you know? About everything.

"J-Jungkook?" Your heart sinks as you quickly decipher the owner of the voice, but then it hardens. It's obvious from the slurring of his words that he's been drinking. "Why on earth are you calling me? And at this godforsaken hour too."

"I told you...I've been thinking about my life."

"I'm hanging up."

"No, please, stay on the line for five minutes. Please, I have to tell you...what I've been thinking."

"You have three minutes," you sigh, ready for anything (except what he was about to spring on you).

"I wanted to save my company," he continues, his voice wavering slightly. "For my mom's sake, you know? My dad owned it and stuff but she was the one who was behind all the technology...and that's why I married you. You...reminded me of her."

Your breath catches in your throat as he reveals the truth behind his actions, the raw honesty of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. You knew very little of Jungkook's mother, too, as he didn't speak of her often.

"And then...then there's the real reason I divorced you," he admits, his voice breaking slightly. "My parents had a terrible marriage, you know? My mom...she had to manage my dad's temper for years...he didn't love her at all. He just married her because she was smart and could make him rich. It made her so unhappy, but you know she loved him so much. She...she passed away when I was 16, and...and I didn't want that for you. I didn't want you to be trapped like she was, because I'm like my dad you know? My feelings are...weird... I never know what the hell I'm...feeling. I'm probably not making a lot of sense am I?"

"I'm trying to understand." You want to hang up here and now but every time he speaks, you cant bring yourself to do it. The pain in his voice cuts through you like a knife, and it's a side of him that you've rarely seen before.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry for being such a dumbass that day I got my stuff. That was like, six months ago and I still hate myself for it. I shouldn't have made an advance on you like that. I was...I was immature, and I wasn't thinking."

"After the gala," he continues, his words becoming more coherent as he speaks. "I...I felt even more guilty, you know? Because, I still have a photo of you and Bam on my dresser. It's small, but I've tried to put it away over and over and over again, but I can't do it. I don't know what's wrong with me...it's almost a year since we lived under the same goddam roof and I can still smell your perfume, I can still remember how you laugh with both your lips and your eyes...the way you scrunch you nose when—"

"What are you trying to say Jungkook?" You interrupt. "That you're sorry and can't get me out of your head, so you need my forgiveness to move on?"

"No! That's...that's not it at all. I mean, I do want your forgiveness but—"

"Well, what the fuck is it?" You hate how aggressive your voice is sounding, but the obscene amount of incoherent information he's revealing to you is overwhelming. "It's 10 freaking pm at night, I had a long day, I'm sleep deprived, and Taehyung's in the fucking hospital which is so distressing, so I'm sorry, but I can't handle any more of your cryptic messages!"

"I think I might love you," he finally says, his voice raising as well. "I know I'm...I'm being a dumbass, but I...I think I love you. I love you __, fuck!"

a/n: So....how are we feeling about Jungkook rn? Also, my darling Taehyung is taking one for the team here 😭 🤍 LMK what you think! Lastly, I understand the timeline of events is a bit tricky to follow, so if it helps I can put something in the series masterlist to help. Vote for jjk or kth!

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[ipegchangbin]

— winner’s deal

sub!jeno x dom!reader x sub!mark | 7.9k words | READ ON AO3

One game, one house. A bet turns into something more when team leader Mark plans to make your boyfriend Jeno all jealous.

❥  fem!reader (she/her pronouns, afab). smut. porn with some plot. ❥ threesome. college/university!au, student!reader & athletes!markjen. member x reader, member x member. open relationship themes. unprotected sex, mouthplay, edging & overstimulation, one light cock slap, double penetration, they’re all messy

📝 happy birthday to the one and only @meivida!!! my fellow dreamzen, the jeno to my chenle, my bff 4life! also surprise i write for nct drm too now. otherwise, enjoy !!

18+ only. minors do not interact.

Somehow, Mark’s not that nervous as he faces Jeno after the game.

Having swept the floor earlier with an insane hockey match, hockey team leader Mark and varsity captain Jeno eye each other down in the locker rooms with nothing but fiery gazes, squinted eyes, and clenched teeth.

You were going to meet them after the game for some “unknown reason.” But, with the way they looked at each other, they just knew.

“Dumb play on the floor earlier, Jeno.” Mark snickered at his teammate, referring to a foul move he got called out for. It cost their team a single point, but Jeno didn’t care about that.

“You didn’t bother to block the guy, so how else was I supposed to pass the disk?”

Mark decides to stay silent. They both know that they aren’t actually frustrated at their game, no, they’re waiting for the minutes to tick down along with the sound of your footsteps by the locker room’s doors.

Jeno breaks the conversational floor worse than he did on the court. “Anyway, why are you meeting up with my girlfriend?”

“Why don’t you ask her?” The leader popped a water bottle open. “You’re her boyfriend.”

“Shouldn’t you know why if she’s asking you?” Jeno had a point, but Mark snickered.

“Beats me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know any better.”

“Because I don’t!”

Refusing to explode any further, Jeno sighs loudly with a big huff off his chest. “Look, if this is about that one move, I’m sorry.”

Mark simply nods, eyes away from Jeno’s face.

“And I just want to know what my girlfriend has to do with you.”

Even though Mark knows the answer, and Jeno has a hunch, they both shut their lips and wordlessly look at each other.

The truth is, Mark had a bet with Jaemin — if he could somehow make Jeno jealous, then a sum of money would be on the line. It’s been a running joke around the team that Jeno gets sulky over simple things, even if he tries to hide it. It’s something small and endearing, but even Mark thought it would be a step too far if he made him really envious of his girlfriend; Jaemin didn’t care, he just wanted money. It frustrated Mark even to be playing these types of bets, but he couldn’t say no, even as the leader.

Jeno already had that sneaking suspicion that he was being played with, but never in his life would he believe that you — his girlfriend — would get involved like this. Rather than jealousy, he was frustrated at the thought that the boys were teasing him in this way. He tried not to let it get the best of him though, even if he was already getting fired up in the locker rooms.

They eye each other down and it’s the most they’ve stared in their lives.

The sound of sneakers walking into the room echoes through the rigid halls of the lockers. A voice can be heard saying “This is the boy’s room” before being cut off by an extra loud turn of the shoe.

Mark suddenly fidgets in his place, all signs of cockiness dissipating as your familiarly strict voice vibrates through the room.

“Where’s Mark?” You ask yourself. With a resting tone like that, you could pass off as the team manager if you weren’t so focused on your other endeavors.

You spot team leader Mark before your boyfriend, igniting a little spark of envy within Jeno.

“Mark! Why’d you make me rush here so suddenly?” It sounds like you were scolding him with your furrowed eyebrows but you’re not.

“Uh, just needed to ask a simple question.”

“And what would that be?”

Jeno looks back and forth between you and Mark with a cloud of confusion over his head.

First off, he can’t believe that you’re involved in this. Second, you look way too hot when you look mad even when you aren’t. It’s not that you’re annoyed at him, maybe you are, but not to the degree that your voice suggests. Somehow, Jeno finds that assertive side of you so sexy that it’d be inappropriate to think about it right then and there.

Thirdly and finally, you’re completely ignoring the love of your life. Standing awkwardly beside Mark, Jeno simply stares at you and hopes you will stare back.

You don’t. Why’s that so attractive of you?

"How about you join dinner with us at my place?" Mark replies, a smug grin on his face, “Y’know, for beating those Stray-bitches from earlier." 

You blink. Jeno blinks back. It’s only then that you acknowledge your boyfriend. He didn’t even know that they were getting a celebratory dinner for winning the day’s game.

That’s when Jeno’s ears start to turn red with envy. “What do you mean, your place?”

He doesn’t realize he’s thinking aloud until your eyes widen and Mark responds with a fake laugh and a smug smile. “I mean, dude, you played well earlier, and what’s wrong with not bringing your girlfriend over?”

Acting all buddy-buddy, as if he didn’t just diss his play on the floor. But that’s not what gets Jeno’s blood boiling.

“Can’t believe I had to be the one to invite her over first instead of you.”

You seem a little less affected, more so confused.

Only a few things make sense to you at the moment. They won, sure. But if Jeno knew about the dinner, why couldn’t he invite you over? Then again, he doesn’t seem to know either, and Mark looks unusually cool to you right now, your eyes are flipping between the two men until your eyelids flutter for a second to refocus.

“I’m available later,” you say with your back straightened. “I’m going if Jeno’s going.”

With that, Jeno can’t say no. He’s in a trickier spot than you are, severely tethering between being unaware and painfully aware of what’s going on.

Mark then slams his arm over Jeno’s shoulder. “Guess you’re going then?”

But he’s bad at masking the nervousness in his eyes. He gulps and sweat trickles down his forehead even after the game’s been over for a while. His plan to make Jeno jealous all for what could probably be lunch money is backing him into a corner — and he mentally hates wearing the dunce hat.

Jeno nods his head with a squint.

“Alright! I’ll see you guys later.”

He ruffles Jeno's hair and leaves with a turn of the heel. The squeak of his rubber shoes echoes through the locker rooms. You turn to your disheveled puppy of a boyfriend, fixing the messy hair.

“You sure you wanna go?” Your question is met with a nod from him. He compliantly keeps his head down for you to scratch it slightly, leaving the boy with a flushed face and redder ears.

“If we get dinner at Mark’s, can we get dessert at mine after?” Jeno suggests.

“Sure thing,” you giggle. “How could I say no to a polite boy like you?”

If Jeno had a tail, he’d be wagging it now. Reassured, he simply takes your hand in his as you lead each other out of the lockers. Should Mark or Jaemin be there, they would’ve thought that they lost from the sight of the both of you.

Time rolls around until it’s night. The lights are on while the sun is out, the moon barely illuminating your steps alongside Jeno’s on the way to Mark’s place.

The streets are usually busier but you don’t mind the quieter walk when your boyfriend intertwines his fingers with yours. The sidewalks are skinnier but he uses that as an excuse to walk closer to you. He’s the unusual one now, becoming slightly clingier than he normally would.

You figure if it has anything to do with Mark’s antics.

“You still wanna go to his place? We can grab something else,” you suggest.

That’s where you’re wrong, though.

“No, let’s go,” Jeno says with a smile and a contrasting squeeze of your hand.

He wants to prove himself against Mark.

You’d think that he’s unintentionally losing, giving in to the envy and jealousy building up in his core — but that’s not what this is. He wants to show him that you’re his, and he’s yours. Given the attitude that the both of them were giving each other, he wanted to one-up his own leader. He can’t quite explain it himself.

You both make it to Mark's place though, but you don't recognize any of the cars around his apartment. Actually, there are no vehicles around Mark's spot at all. Not even Chenle's car is there, the signature pickup that took their friend group everywhere. It seems like both of you came early.

So, you ring on his doorbell. Jeno tests himself by letting your hand go.

No response. Ding-dong; no response again.

You do hear hurried footsteps though, but it takes long before anything happens. Antsy, Jeno fidgets as he stops himself from the instinct of holding your hand again. Minutes go by before the door finally answers: Mark looks disheveled and hurriedly dressed.

You’d be damned if you say he’s cute, so you digress, focusing on your boyfriend instead.

The two men high-five with a side hug — despite lingering hard feelings — and you enter the seemingly lifeless house.

“…Where’s the party?” You squeak.

Mark leans against the door frame with crossed arms. “You’re the first in here.”

On the table sits nothing but Mark's takeout and a couple of other snacks. The only fresh thing seems to be the chicken he ordered just an hour ago. Jeno raises an eyebrow at Mark.

“Oh, Y/N, can I tell you something before the others arrive?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“But Jeno can’t hear about it.”

What is it this time?

Mark isn't even sure of what he should say to you. Maybe he should flat-out admit that he's in a bet to make Jeno jealous.

Maybe he should admit a little secret he’s been keeping to himself for years — he finds you kind of cute.

It’s not something he holds as he would a crush, that would be wrong of him. He just always considered his best friend lucky for bagging someone as great as you. You’re someone he likes to look at and converse with — it’s nothing about that kind of attraction, at least he thinks. Mark isn’t here to homewreck, but he can’t help his brain when you’re in the picture.

He shouldn’t talk about that, though. Not when Jeno’s there, not when he’s supposed to be faking a party, not when he’s practically using you to win a bet against his friend.

He feels like a shitty person, but before the college-boy-antics-guilt settles in, you follow Mark behind the door of his kitchen.

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

Mark’s pupils dart around, trying to find anything but your face to focus on. “Well, uhm, actually…”

Meanwhile, Jeno has a hunch that the party’s not real when Renjun sends a picture to him. He’s with Jaemin and Chenle, all three looking at the camera with mischievous eyes.

All of his suspicions confirm themselves with question marks and indefinite periods while waiting for you with heated cheeks.

It’s not that he’s clingy — he doesn’t want to admit so — and it’s not that he’s jealous — he can’t admit that either. In all fairness, he just wants you to be safe; he trusts you enough to be in Mark’s presence, but alone with a secret he can’t know about? Why would you be hiding behind a door in Mark’s apartment?

The anxiety creeps under his skin, sending off various signals in his brain to check in on you and his friend.

He walks in on you urging the other to speak. “Come on, Mark, what is it that you wanted to say—”

“If you have anything to say to her, say it to my face too,” Jeno butts in.

Mark blinks. He’s sweating.

He doesn’t know what to do. That is, he didn’t, not until he blurts something out.

"Fine, y'all can do whatever you want in here!" Mark apologizes. "I'm sorry, I don't want to waste your time. You guys can hang around, get more food, sleepover — hell, y'all can fuck and that's fine, I'm just really sorry."

It’s your turn to blink along with Jeno.

“Y-You weren’t gonna say anything?”

Mark’s cheeks turn red as he stumbles over his words. “Okay—where do I start? I was in a bet with Jaemin, and he bet that I could make Jeno jealous.” He uses his hands to communicate after pausing. “Like—okay, I didn’t think it would go this far, I’m sorry.”

But something clicks in his head as soon as he sees Jeno’s beet-red face.

“Though I feel like I won anyway,” he giggles awkwardly. “I think I actually made you jealous for a minute there.”

You turn to your poor boyfriend and find him fully flushed, hands balled into fists, forehead glistening with beads of sweat. Jeno’s eyebrows sit furiously on his tall nose, but his mouth is unsure — that’s when he realizes his envy getting the best of him for at least that moment.

You think it's cute, though. Perhaps you're the worst person for being amused to see your friend play games with your boyfriend.

“So, how much was the bet?” You break the ice, and Jeno turns to you with a shocked face.

“Twenty bucks…” Mark scratches his head, “…I guess it’s worth it?”

You laugh at him, lightly punching his shoulder. At that moment, Jeno's feelings start to blur as he experiences light deja vu before his eyes. With the way you were interacting with Mark before him, he was feeling that creeping jealousy come back. He tries to suppress it as best as he can, but this time it fails — the frustration shows in his face as you laugh and act as if he isn't there.

He’s the boyfriend. He should be the one you’re defending and paying attention to, but for some reason, you don’t mind either you or him getting played with for twenty stupid bucks.

Also, you’re hot as fuck when you’re smiling at someone else, and it frustrates him even more.

“We can do anything here, yeah?” Jeno speaks up.

Mark smiles. “Yeah. I don’t mind at all, it’s my little peace offering.”

Without another word, Jeno grabs your hand as he drags you out of the room. He runs to Mark’s bedroom, holding you firmly, closing the door only slightly shut with the other.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You hiss. “You can’t just dart out like that! And my hand hurts a bit.”

At that, Jeno wordlessly inspects your wrist, thinking he hurt you in the midst of his envy — he’s also avoiding your queries.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous, but there’s no reason to be.” The reassurance doesn’t work as his eyes fixate on your hand. “It’s just a bet between them, and at the end of the day, I still love you.”

Your words fall on semi-deaf ears, the only visual effect being his cheeks getting a shade deeper. He fidgets with your fingers.

Mildly frustrated yourself, you reach out with both hands to cup his face and refocus on yours. “Jeno.”

The look he gives you sends a signal off in your head.

What seems to be hearts form in his eyes. He looks like he wants to be possessive, but he wants you to own him. Make him yours. It’s a look you’ve seen many times on his face but you can’t pinpoint the exact reason why it still gets you every time.

Like a pleading puppy, his cheeks sink into your palms as he stares back into you.

“I just…” Jeno clears his throat, “I don’t want you to be played with like that. And I-I want to be just yours.”

Your shock softens as you rub your thumbs across his cheekbones. “Oh lovely, there’s nothing to worry about. I really love you.”

He unexpectedly lunges his head forward, trapping your lips in a loving kiss. It takes a full ten seconds, eyes closed and heads tilted to find each other’s connection between the mouths, and you pull away with a huff.

“Jeno, we shouldn’t.”

You know that this usually escalates to something more than just stolen kisses. You try to stop it before anything, and your boyfriend knows this, but he doesn’t stop at all.

“Mark said we can do anything.”

You push his chest gently. “That’s not a go signal!”

“Yeah, but if anything, Mark should be the shameful one.”

Before you could question it, Jeno nods his head towards the creaked open door, revealing Mark standing behind it.

He was caught listening in.

“Hey, d-don’t take this wrong,” Mark stutters, “Was just gonna ask why you ran out on me!”

For some reason, you aren’t mad about it.

Jeno’s weirded out, that’s for sure — but neither of you can stay too mad. He had his reasons to look for you but not to ogle for that long, but maybe it’s the heat post-kiss that drives your head to a place where it shouldn’t be; especially not in team leader Mark’s house.

But it’s going there.

“I guess we’re all forgetting our manners,” you suggest with high eyebrows. Your voice, however, takes on a deeper tone with a timbre that Mark hasn’t heard — but your boyfriend knows too well.

Mark observes as your boyfriend shivers. He looks at you surprised as if he didn’t just kiss you in his best friend’s house; he knows you could make it worse.

“If you hadn’t been so nosy, I would’ve invited you, you know.”

That’s more than enough of a signal to get Mark and Jeno’s heads spiraling.

Jeno isn’t too sure what you mean. He does, but he doesn’t know why you’re acting so coy — like you were never caught off-guard. As your boyfriend, he knows your antics, but as a separate person, he isn’t too sure how to think of your thinking.

Inviting Mark to step into the same room, you reach your fingers out and curl them towards you.

“Jeno was gonna be mine for the night. It wouldn’t hurt if I could just have another toy to play with though, yeah?”

You only lay your eyes on your boyfriend at the last word. It isn’t a look of confirmation, but rather assertion — you stated it like a fact and he isn’t ready to react before you glare at him. There’s only one answer to you, and Jeno nods, making you smirk proudly.

Mark simply watches speechlessly until you smile at him.

"I mean, as you said, we could do anything. It's still your house though, so feel free to call it off..." The wind that blows as your words slow down seems to add to the heat growing in Mark's cheeks. The warmth under his skin only boils as he notices Jeno's lack of protest — worse, he sees compliance and anticipation.

He gulps as he realizes that he doesn’t want to call it off.

“So what? Care to join?”

The three have you have waited long enough for a response but his house slippers are glued to the floor. His mouth hangs open for a response but nothing leaves him.

A chuckle leaves your mouth as you take the step to inch closer to him while holding your boyfriend's hand at the back.

“Don’t be shy,” your free hand snakes up to Mark’s shoulder, “I don’t bite.”

It's a lie as per Jeno's eyes. You'll bite if presented with the consent.

Just as soon as Mark musters up a response, he finds your lips on his cheek as you pull him closer to your boyfriend. The proximity and sudden actions kill him bit by bit from the inside out. A tent forms in his pants but he thinks nothing of it when you kiss him on the lips right after.

Jeno watches with no hint of jealousy, but a watering mouth follows.

Mark savors the taste of your lips for a second, then another — before it’s all gone as you pull away with a mischievous smile.

Grabbing his chin with one hand, your thumb swipes past his wetted plump lower lip. You tilt his head slightly towards Jeno, letting your boyfriend watch as you slip your thumb inside his mouth. Mark's eyes light up, watching your face as you fixate on his mouth.

He instinctively attempts to suck your thumb, but you pry his mouth open with your other hand’s fingers, hooking his head up by his front teeth. It’s fully exposed now, Mark’s tongue out with saliva flowing from the roof of his mouth, down onto strong teeth, all the way to your index and middle fingers. Jeno speechlessly savors the sight of you leaning down to kiss his best friend’s tongue.

Desire fills him as you press your lips firmly against his tongue, smiling, then pulling back to admire the flustered mess you’ve made of the boy. Your boyfriend enjoys the view, inching close to the both of you to kiss your lips right after. Your hands never leave Mark’s open mouth.

“Kiss him.” Your index finger tugs on the corner of Mark’s lips to feign a smile. “See? He’s waiting for it.”

Jeno eyes his teammate with lust. He closes his eyes and mirrors your antics, kissing not just Mark’s tongue but his teeth too, his lips, and any inch of flesh he can get. He licks the spit in his mouth and gulps after each kiss.

As Jeno pulls away, you leave Mark’s mouth alone, making the boy cough at the sudden absence of you both — but he smiles right after.

“Fuck,” he simply whispers.

Proud of what you’ve done, you turn to make out with Jeno while your wet hands travel down to tug at a belt hoop on Mark’s pants. The signal hits him late, causing him to hurriedly unbutton his pants. You laugh into Jeno’s kiss.

“Look at this boy, he doesn’t know what to do.”

“Always like that,” Jeno comments. “He’s the cutest when he’s panicked.”

Mark’s head shoots up at Jeno. Cute? Since when was he cute to him?

It takes long the boy a minute — he zones out for a few seconds as you and Jeno start kissing up his sides, from the neck down to his hips. He can't believe anything that's happening. Whatever this was, the sudden thing he'd gotten himself into while in his own home, he couldn't seem to pull himself away from it. A magnetic force is locking him in as you suck on his neck.

Mark moans, deliciously caught by Jeno’s mouth as he makes out with him briefly while holding him firmly by the waist. Mark can feel Jeno’s hard length, straining painfully against Mark’s back. His own cock hangs against his boxers, the crotch exposed as you pull his unbuttoned pants down.

His vision blurs. His mouth salivates but feels dry. He begins to get dizzy — he can't black out though, and even if none of this is quite right, he isn't mad at all. He loves it.

The desire in him burns as you push your own body onto the bed, admiring the two boys before you.

Your hand cups your boyfriend’s ass, digging your palm inside his back pocket. “Jeno, get your pants off now.”

“Want you to help me too.” He responds with a pout.

“How about you ask your friend over here to assist you?”

Jeno obediently turns to Mark with an expression akin to that of an excited puppy. It’s another sight that only you have seen, and Mark thinks it’s an honor to see it himself; his brain lags at the adorable blink Jeno gives, before pawing at his crotch.

“You’re so hard.”

“I know. Please help me.”

It doesn’t take Mark too long this time to fully respond to this request. He eagerly reaches for the button on Jeno’s pants and frees the strained crotch, leaving him in his boxers.

Something gets the best of him. Maybe it's because this is all wrong, or maybe it's a pent-up expression of all the times he's seen his best friend in boxers — it drives him more insane than it should, seeing his length while they change in the locker rooms — but whatever it is, it drives him to pull at the hem of his boxers, taking a peek at his cock.

And fuck, is he packing a lot.

Jeno's cock is veiny and it pulses as Mark ogles at it. It's long and thick enough — it might be a bit longer than Mark's, he thinks. It's veiny, the tip red and shapely. His balls hang not too far from his cock, barely seen from the size that greeted him for a second's worth. The shaft has a curve that greets Mark with a twitch.

The boy turns to you as if to ask permission, to which he does: “May I please play with him?”

“Not yet,” you tilt your head. “A bit too eager now, aren’t we?”

“But he—we—” he loses the words in his throat. His finger leaves the hem of Jeno’s boxers, but the boy cups his hip in desperation.

"I only allowed you to help him pull it down." At that, Mark's face sours. He salivates at the picture of Jeno's cock. He had never thought of his friend that way, never really considered the invitation that was always there — for the sake of "being bros." But now that it's here, you delay him the opportunity; so close yet so far.

Mark’s fingers only leave Jeno’s boxers when the man looks at him with an obedient eye.

“Let him play with you first.” Your voice almost echoes through the room. Jeno nods as if he received a secret command, only understood by you and him. Was it the curl in your tone that caused him to act?

Either way, it shocks Mark slightly when Jeno's strong arms pull him by his shoulders. His hands then crawl both behind his head and then down to his hips, bringing the two bodies impossibly closer — Jeno seems unfazed as he pulls Mark's shirt off next. He's used to the sight of his toned body, but seeing his chest flush in both embarrassment and lust is a new sight that budges Jeno's mouth into a soft smile.

“Mark, I want you to relax and enjoy. Jeno’s really good and I want him to be good to you.”

His hands graze lightly down Mark's body. The boy's skin raises into bumps of a once-pale, now-flushed frenzy, his body hairs rising as the other's delicate fingertips trail down his exposed arms and sides. Mark's chest is heaving, unable to catch a break or a breath.

It's all worse when Jeno kisses him once more, taking advantage of his open mouth. His hands stay on Mark's chest, fingers looking for his nipples — he finds them quickly and prods at them with pressure so good that it makes Mark moan. You laugh as if you're right; your boyfriend's really good, and the boy you've been eyeing is taking it well.

However, you’re getting impatient, having this go for too long for you to be satisfied.

You take good use of both of your hands and pull down their boxers, each hand being careful yet swift as you fist the fabric out of their skin, watching their beautiful cocks bounce. This interrupts the kissing — they gasp in unison and it’s music to your ears.

Unfortunately, you don’t follow up with any more words, leaving them to look at you with wide eyes. All you do is giggle to yourself, pat the tips of their oversensitive and deliciously hard lengths, and silently command them to do something.

Jeno acts first: eyes darting down to Mark's impressive length, he slides his thick cock beside the other. Their shafts rub, making Mark bite his lip, but his mouth opens anyway as their reddish-pink tips kiss each other.

Their size differences are more apparent this way; Jeno's cock seems thicker, and Mark's is longer. Deep in hyper-analysis, you urge them once again to rub their cocks together with simultaneous handjobs.

The sudden reintroduction of their hands leaves Mark squirming next to Jeno. He instinctively holds onto his shoulders for support, an adorable sight that neither of you has ever seen nor expected from "the dependable Mark."

You're slow with it first. Your hand makes its way from the tips, thumbs prodding playfully at the tiny holes sitting atop, only for your fingers to form rings, wrapping each individual digit around gradually as your palms slide down their lengths. Once you've wrapped the pinky around, you're at the base of their cocks, teasing to cup their balls — but before they could even moan for more, you're sliding up again. After a few more strokes, the pace picking up with each full slide up and down, they hump your hands with your pace until you pull away.

“I can’t be doing all the work.”

Your words are intimidating. The two boys take it with confusion as they lock eyes for a moment, cocks twitching centimeters away from each other.

Out of pure desperation, Mark thrusts his hips upward, rubbing his cock well up against Jeno's. The friction leaves him breathless, sharp bursts of pleasure combing through his nerves. With their closeness, Jeno could only mirror his movement in response. He holds Mark by his face with one hand, reaching his other down to connect their tips in his palm. The gesture shocks them both, the distance closing into zero inches, crotches and groomed bush hair pressed together.

You catch wind of Jeno’s heavy breaths. “You’re panting, baby.”

He looks up at you through hooded eyes, head thrown slightly back in pleasure. “I’m excited.”

“Such a puppy.”

Mark looks back and forth between the both of you as you exchange hot words. The buildup of heat in his stomach goes further down to his crotch until Jeno could feel the warmth on his cock's leaking tip. Embarrassed, he wordlessly attempts to turn his head away, but your hands—slimy as they are—hold his chin in place. He seems excited too, Jeno thinks to himself.

You move your hand with Mark’s chin on it close to your boyfriend’s face, coercing Jeno to kiss him again. Their mouths quickly open, jutting their tongues out to greet each other as they practically hump each other with their cocks pressed close. Jeno breaks away from the kiss to breathe, resting his forehead on Mark’s — the eye contact that they share after doesn’t break, though.

It’s an intense stare that holds no hard feelings, only incredibly hard cocks rubbing together as they near their highs. Mark seems to chase it first, but before anything could happen, you cock your head to the side.

You slap Mark’s bulging cock with a fierce spank.

It hurts only lightly, only since you slapped it with less of a force and more of a flick of your hand, but it still stings. Mark almost falls over, only caught by Jeno’s strong and muscular arms.

“What was that for?” Tears well up in his eyes but he doesn’t sound upset at all. He just genuinely wants to ask why he was denied the high and you can hear nothing but desperation in his voice.

All you do, though, is laugh in response. Jeno looks at him with fond eyes too, except he knows he’s in trouble next: his cock also started leaking precum. You run the pad of your thumb atop his leaking hole, blocking the flow ever so slightly. You then guide your boyfriend’s cock back to Mark’s, but you hold their shafts together in place with your one stretched hand, precum mixing and all.

“We’ve barely even started and you’re both acting like this?” Your voice is sultry yet stern.

The two merely whimper and shy their faces away. Mark looks down at the scene and amusement hits him all at once. The sight of his body and Jeno’s, naked and sweaty and held together by a singular hand on their cocks, makes him shiver and bite his lip.

“Sorry,” Jeno utters first, “I-It just felt too good.”

A breeze bellows through the room and it leaves all three of you with your hair raised, but you don’t budge a single bit. You turn to Mark.

“I…” Mark starts to speak yet nothing of substance comes out.

“Excuses are nothing, I know you’re both desperate.” Your hand leaves their slimy cocks. You don’t hesitate as you bring a finger to your mouth, tasting their sins as they writhe before you in slight embarrassment.

“How about you both show me how much you want me?”

It’s not supposed to be as shocking as it is, but the realization hits them both incredibly late that you’re still fully clothed, mostly untouched, left to be their eye candy as they fondled each other earlier. Jeno and Mark’s gazes fall through your entire body in all directions as they plot how they could start pleasing you.

Even if they both clearly wanted you, they restrained themselves and took out their desires on each other. That’s very obedient and patient of them, you think, and you don’t think it’s wrong to enjoy the sight.

Jeno's grasp on Mark loosens and leaves as he inches towards you, sweat dripping and everything, closing his face in on yours to kiss your lips deeply. You two always do this, accustomed to each other's rushes of warmth and intimacy every single time you kiss, and so it feels natural as Jeno latches his mouth on your neck next. His hands, trembling slightly yet not at all unsure, make their way to trace up the outline of your sides until they find your breasts.

He breaks away from working on a neck hickey as he examines your chest, restrained by layers of clothing that he wants off. Instead of impatiently reaching over the fabric, he takes his time to lift it from under and urge you to move it over your head. Mark watches intently, almost studying the movements while he refrains from reaching down for his pulsating cock.

Dare he even touch himself to the sight as he may be punished by not just you, but also Jeno.

“Not gonna do anything?” Jeno faces Mark with a smirk.

Mark stammers as he finds his words to ask permission. “Dude—uhm, can I?”

You laugh at how his hands hesitate to touch you, eager to even get ahold of your bra but still too scared.

“Please?”

All you do is smile with a nod. Jeno gives him way, pointing at the hook of the bra.

He first grabs ahold of your breasts by holding the bra cups, only to slide his hands to the sides of the undergarment, tracing your upper body until he's made his way backward; his fingertips find the hooks, unclasping them with only a bit of struggle — he knows what he's doing, he just gets nervous as your boobs flow out of the loosened bra.

It takes him a moment to even acknowledge that the beautiful view of your boobs inches away from his chest is all his doing. Jeno lets out a light snort, swinging his arm over Mark's red shoulders. He's blushing all over, flustered to high heavens.

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Damn right,” Mark agrees. “You’re fucking lucky, dude.”

Jeno pecks Mark’s heated cheek. “So don’t bring her in the next bets, yeah?”

The things that they say ring through your ears loudly. You’re living for Jeno’s protectiveness, Mark’s shocked expression, and the fact that they both proceed to work their way on your lower half.

They urge you out of your pants, the two men helping your legs out, kissing your skin as they expose themselves. You can't help but chuckle, moan a little bit, and even grab onto their skilled yet calloused hands. The two are unexpectedly gentle, working surprisingly in tandem to even just get you out of your clothes, all until you're naked.

All until they’re yours.

Jeno ends up kneeling down in front of you like a patient dog. Mark stands by your side, waiting.

As adorable as they are, you’re growing desperate for some more action, so you grab ahold of Mark’s cock and whisper in his ear.

“Be a dear and tell my baby to kiss me there.”

Mark gulps, tongue caught in a twist as he musters the courage to relay it to Jeno.

“Uhh, sh-she said…lick—no, kiss her.”

Jeno looks up at you in confirmation. You pet his head with your other hand. There are hearts in his eyes.

Without another word, Jeno doesn’t waste a second as he dives his head down.

Fiddling between your legs, he holds you by the backs of your inner thighs and does as he’s told. He nudges his nose around the area to get himself closer and closer to your heat. He kisses you, puckering his lips and smacking your clit ever so sweetly. He gets a light taste of your sweetness dripping wild from watching the two men act desperately earlier. You hum in content, stroking Mark's cock—still in your hand—ever so slightly.

Mark dips his head onto your neck. He attempts to kiss you in the same way Jeno does, warm and loving. Jeno himself digs his head further between your thighs, licking wide stripes with his tongue tapering up to the tip as he gets back on your clit. You shiver with a lustful smile.

Jeno continues to swirl his tongue from your clit back down to your entrance, allowing your slick to mix in with his drool. Mark refuses to even look you in the eye from all of the sinful sounds he’s hearing — you remedy that by pecking a kiss on his cheek mole.

“If you weren’t so cute, you’d be dead by now.”

Mark’s cock stiffens at that. It throbs, a long vein pulsing against your palm from your words alone. A part of him hates to admit that he’s glad he took up the bet if it led him here.

You grab a fistful of your boyfriend’s hair out of nowhere, pulling slightly at his scalp to signal him up. He misreads this at first, instead nodding his head back into your cunt, but you let out a light grunt and a hiss.

“Mmph—Sorry,” Jeno says, hands wobbling awkwardly at the backs of your thighs for support. “Needed me, baby?”

You raise an eyebrow. “I wanted you to only kiss me there, but…”

Jeno dips his head to apologize. He mutters on and on about how good you tasted, how sweet it felt, how lovely and velvety the skin around your clit was while he licked it. Mark���s face heats up impossibly more at the descriptions and subtle praises that Jeno has for your pussy.

“Oh, look who’s the jealous one now.”

Mark’s sweating bullets. “I-I’m not!”

“You can have a turn at it if you’d like.” The suggestion runs off your lips casually. So casual that it leaves him slightly puzzled, cock still aching in your hand.

“How about only ten seconds in my cunt?”

He blinks three times. You’re all down to absurd means of getting each other off and you’re about to fully abandon the circumstances that got you here. That got the both of them here.

He whips his head towards your boyfriend for approval, and Jeno only nods his head in your direction. "Her orders, man."

You laugh and kiss Mark, urging him down on the bed behind him. You push him by his shoulders and the look on his face, wide eyes and all, has you smirking.

“Ten seconds. Just to try it.”

You align your slit to match his red, slimy tip, sliding your cunt from your clit down to your wet entrance. You don’t let him in just yet, instead teasing him with a few slides, letting him feel the velvety friction of your pussy lips before he gets a taste of everything else.

“That feels good,” he breathes out.

“It’s not even in yet.”

“I’m just feeling as much as I can,” Mark smiles nervously. “I only got ten seconds after this—”

Before he could even get cocky, you fully sit down on his cock, slamming your cunt until he’s all the way inside.

He shivers, hitting his head back on the bed in pure pleasure. The wetness of your walls envelops him with a warmth he hasn’t felt anywhere else. Slowly yet surely, he begins to lose his mind to delirium as his cock throbs, almost vibrating inside you.

“Ten,” Jeno counts for you, watching the part where you both connect as he sits politely next to you both.

He refuses to touch himself even as he watches you lift your lower half away from Mark, the slick of your essence and leftover drool from Jeno slipping down the cock.

“Nine,” he continues, breath hitching as you wiggle your hips.

At this point, only Mark's tip is inside you, but before he can even do anything, you slam your hips back down. The smack of your ass on his thighs makes him groan loudly, the sweetness of his voice echoing in your ears.

“Eight.” You repeat your motions, swirling your hips slightly and letting the wetness drip ever so gracefully down your thighs onto his. “Seven.”

Mark rolls his eyes back. His balls hurt at this point. He’s strained and frustrated.

He turns his head. “Holy shit, Jeno, I’ll cum—”

“Hold it, easy now.” Unimpressed, Jeno instead leans forward to talk him down.

“Five,” he whispers, “four…”

All Mark can do is whimper through a bitten lip. Your hands roam around his chest for support, the unforgiving sensations haunting his skin as you touch his most sensitive areas.

“Three…”

Mark hisses. “Won’t you count any fucking slower?”

“Oh, you want me to cut it out?” You say with a stop.

Regret immediately washes over his wide eyes as you lift yourself off his dick.

“So close yet so far. What a pity,” you laugh, turning to your sweet boyfriend and feeling him up instead.

You maneuver your hips and align yourself over Jeno’s cock, teasing him the same way you did with Mark. You don’t enter yet and keep your wetness dripping on him before giving the neglected boy a wink.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t try my ass.”

A shock instantly rushes through his veins, coloring his skin flushed once more. He's been sweating, and it worsened once you suggested it. He tries to say anything about it but falls short of words when you urge him closer with the call of your fingers. Jeno watches in awe, lightly frustrated that his cock is so close to your cunt.

You grab Mark from the back, guiding his hips close to yours. He’s kneeling, holding onto your waist and hips for stability, ready to position his cock by your second entrance. He licks his hand, a generous amount of spit and drool wetting it, just more than enough for him to lube up your hole to take him.

Jeno’s cock throbs cutely from under, so you coo and kiss his tip with the warmth of your clit. He bites back a whimper.

It isn’t long before you invite Mark to enter you, lining up and guiding his cock inside, slowly stretching your tightest hole until the tip is in. Mark’s breathing heavily, sweating buckets as he feels how tight it is, hugging just the tip so hard that he could explode at any given moment.

You push your lower half back, adjusting to his girth and length, taking him inch by inch. You’re panting too, strained little moans escaping your throat as you struggle and succeed to take him all the way to the middle.

Once you’re nearly bottoming him out, you both still in place, allowing yourselves time to adjust.

Jeno still looks pitiful with his cock pushed against nothing but your clit. It only gives you an idea.

“Mark. Be a dear and fuck me hard when we’re good, yeah?”

Confused, he agrees with a nod. You both signal each other when it feels best to move, and with that, Mark fully pulls back before slamming his entire length back into your fit little ass.

The force from his thrust pushes you forward, sinking Jeno’s cock deep into your pussy.

The sudden action leaves Jeno groaning and Mark grunting. Both of their cocks fill you up with no room to breathe, the sensation of the two pulsating and hard lengths making you shake. You feel yourself close but you hold back for their sake.

Another thrust from Mark sends your cunt further down on Jeno’s cock. Your boyfriend even begins moving his hips, emptying your pussy only to fill it back up again. The other doesn’t stop, almost losing himself as he goes faster and faster, bit by bit, ecstasy hitting him soon.

“Mark, baby, you’re doing so good.”

Eyes lighting up, it takes five seconds—and a few moans in between—for Mark to realize that he’s the baby that you’re referring to.

Jeno also catches it late, but instead of the jealousy seeping back into his veins, the opposite manifests. He smiles, somehow proud of Mark for sharing a name that they both earned from you.

“Baby, come on, make me cum.”

You lean back, an arm thrown over to hold onto Mark for support. He keeps going, pushing his cock against your limit with each thrust, all the while Jeno leans forward to reach your clit and tease it.

Being filled and fucked all at once like this has all three of you on edge, but Mark can’t take it — he slips out of your ass and cums all over your back.

You don’t mind, instead falling forward to bounce on Jeno’s cock while he cums inside you next. That doesn’t stop him from flicking your clit with his experienced fingers, and you squirt all over him.

All three of you collapse on the bed, trying to overcome your highs.

“…That was fucking insane, man.”

Mark is the first to sit up, eyeing the both of you fucked out on his own bed. He has to clean up a lot, so much that it’s lightly embarrassing, but none of you seem to mind at all at that moment.

“Yo Jeno.”

Too tired to move his body, he simply raises an eyebrow while looking back at Mark. “What’s up?”

"I swear on my dick I'm not playing with you and Y/N, aight?" He scratches the back of his head, suddenly getting shy. "And, uh, I'm still sorry for the bet."

“Nah, it’s good. Just say you won, get the money, and run.”

Mark realizes that it could’ve just been that easy, that he didn’t have to do any of that. It’s way too late now, but at least he won and got laid.

“...And you can treat us to dinner with that cash,” Jeno adds with a wink.

The boy simply rubs his flushed face in his hands and sighs. Dinner with his newfound fuckmates isn’t so bad after all.

“Well, you’re free to shower, clean up, sleep, do whatever—”

You grab ahold of Mark’s arm and pull him back on the bed. He falls right between you and Jeno’s warm bodies.

Jeno shushes him with a side hug, and you giggle softly. Somehow none of this feels as disgusting as it should be while all three of you are in each other’s arms.

[sturniolo04]

Surprise M.S.

Bf!Matt x Gf!Reader

Summary: In which Matt surprises you (his gf)

A/N: Please leave requests in my inbox; running out of writing ideas

A long-distance relationship is something you and Matt didn't have in mind but, of course, when Matt and his brother's YouTube career took off all too fast, it threw almost a 3,000-mile wedge in your guys' relationship.

See you and the Triplets were what you called childhood best friends. You guys were basically raised together. The constant sleepovers and family vacations you guys took with each other's families. To sum it up, Marylou and Jimmy were legitimately your second mom and dad.

So ultimately you were bound to fall for one of your childhood best friends. Everyone out of your Boston friends thought that hands down Chris was going to be the one for you. The universe, though, had other plans, because as you and the triplets got older together and matured together to a degree, you took more of a liking to Matt just because of his calm demeanor and just knowing that he ultimately became your safe space. So when Junior Year of high school arrived you both came to your senses and ended up confessing to each other and being together ever since.

This brings you to the present day, you sitting at home not having the best day. Everything didn't go right for you since early that morning, from having so much college work piling up to do to being late for work to the ultimate dealbreaker, the worst thing about all of this is all you want is a simple hug from your boyfriend who ironically is hours away from you.

"is something bothering you sweetie," your mom asks from across the island counter you had recently installed in your new house when you moved out. "huh, oh it's nothing it's stupid" you reply back setting your phone down on the marble countertop. It wasn't stupid and it definitely wasn't nothing, on top of all the shitty things happening today Matt hadn't texted you once which was not normal for him so you just assumed he was in a meeting or something but when it became hours passing by you became anxious and nervous that he forgot about you and let LA get to his head. "Okay then, do you want to go to the store to restock your groceries so you don't starve" your mom chuckles to herself as she opens your refrigerator. "Sure, I have to go to Sephora anyway" you sigh grabbing your phone and then grabbing your shoes.

Little did you know this was all normal. Marylou, Matt, and your mom had planned this a month in advance, they were flying Matt out to Boston as we speak just to spend the month with you and it just so happens that it was on the exact day you really needed him most but, once again your completely unaware of this because after all, it was an unknown surprise.

-time skip-

"I just need some more foundation then we can go back to my house if you want Mom" you stated simply trying not to let on that you were so upset about not hearing from Matt. "okay take your time" your mom replied back as you turned to look through the various foundations to find yours. "I think your dad and I might go to visit your grandmother in Iowa soon" your mom states randomly to keep you somewhat distracted as she begins recording subtly the aisle next to the end of where you were currently standing. "really that sounds fun, how is she doing anyway?" you trail off in your response to your mom, still fixated on finding the foundation you were needing, all while your boyfriend, now sneaking his way to the exact spot you and your mom were located. "found it, we can go check out now mom" you state as you turn around facing her. "what are you doing mom" you giggle at your mom failing to give a response as she is still actively recording, giving your boyfriend enough time to fully stand next to you without you sensing his presence. After standing there perplexed at your mom's unusual reaction, you begin to turn to leave her and go check out so you can go back home. "oh my god" you exclaimed, hugging yourself out of pure shock, finally seeing who was standing next to you the whole time. "hi baby" matt finally speaks, giggling at your cuteness. "oh my god" you reiterate again finally wrapping your arms around matt's neck as he shifts his grip from your waist to your thighs lifting you off of the ground as you wrap your legs around him. "mom did you know about this" you ask genuinely as matt sets you back on your feet. " baby both your mom and my mom planned it out" Matt interjects grabbing the sides of your face and kissing your forehead then proceeds to wrap his arms around your neck and bring you into him. "okay well I will leave you lovebirds to it, I will meet you guys at the car " you mom announces walking out of Sephora.

"talk to me pretty girl what has been happening" Matt finally speaks up as you look up at him from your tight embrace "I really needed you today i have been so stressed out and I thought you were forgetting about me when you didn't text me at all today" you ramble on. "hey i would never forget about you I've known you my whole life, I'm crazy about you" he replies simply brushing the hair out of your face that had fallen from your messy ponytail. "pinky promise" you huff out as matt pulls away from the hug you guys were sharing to link your guys pinkies. "pinky promise angel"

Taglist

@adirtylittleheart @mintsturniolo

[diapydemon]

“Hi sweetie,” she waved from the library steps, “I’m so glad you could make it to our little study date.”

“W-well,” I blushed, flustered at her flirtatious wording, “I wouldn’t miss it.”

It was true; I would never ever miss this. I’m still surprised that the prettiest girl in my biology class asked me to study with her.

Firstly, I was surprised because we hadn’t really talked outside of a few passing words, and I knew she was out of my league, so I mostly tried to mind my own business.

Secondly, I was surprised because I knew she didn’t need my help studying. While I was no academic slouch, she would usually score insanely high on the quizzes and tests. There were only a handful of times I scored higher than her throughout the semester. I guess she took the upcoming final seriously.

“So you ready to lock in and hit the books?” She offered a gentle smile that made me blush at its tenderness.

“Mhmmm,” is all I could squeak out.

“I know we’re just going to ace this final together, sweetie!”

Her energy was infectious, and I couldn’t help but grin —even through the sweetly condescending pet names that I —honestly— didn’t mind at all.

We didn’t need to walk far to find a secluded spot in the library; despite it being finals season, our ‘date’ was happening late enough into the night that the library was more or less abandoned.

As she sat down at a table of her choosing, I grunted as I heaved my heavy backpack off of my shoulders.

“That must be one heavy bag,” she raised her eyebrow in a gently inquisitive manner, “What’s in it? Must be full of textbooks… or maybe something else…?”

She offered the last question as if trying to imply something. I blushed, knowing full well what was actually in my backpack, but I chose to ignore the implication. There was no way she knew; no need to be nervous.

“Yep,” I chuckled nervously, “So many textbooks.”

“Uh-huh… right,” the corners of her lips tucked into a barely perceptible frown, “Well, let’s get started with studying then.”

I did have textbooks in my bag, but they weren’t the only items in my bag. I also had a couple spare diaper changes.

I liked to wear diapers for as long as I remembered. There was something about them that just drove me crazy: the security, the vulnerability, the… cuteness. It all just made me feel deliciously small and little.

When I moved away to college and eventually got my own room, I decided to start wearing diapers full time. After all, why not — they made me happy, and I was living alone now anyway.

That’s all well and good, but you’re probably wondering why I would risk compromising hanging out with the hottest girl in my biology class by wearing on this date? Well… while I wouldn’t say I’m not potty trained anymore, I definitely am not totally 100% as potty trained as I used to be before I started wearing diapers 24/7.

So I chose to go the better safe than sorry route and continue wearing diapers for this study session.

I was ripped from my nervous inner dialogue by a seemingly innocuous question about the cell cycle.

I’d be lying if I said I was really focused on studying after that. My thoughts were consumed by the gorgeous girl in front of me; she was flirtatious yet condescending, and I didn’t quite know what to make of it. Not that I wasn’t enjoying her company.

I was once again distracted from my thoughts when I heard her pencil gently drop to the table.

I looked up from my own notes to meet her eyes. She was sniffing the air curiously, as if trying to place a certain smell that had no business among the well curated library.

I blushed. I hadn’t had an accident… had I?? I squished my thighs together and felt clearly soggy padding between them. I guess I hadn’t noticed while being distracted by studying and flirting.

I just needed to calm down. If I just focused and acted like nothing was wrong, she wouldn’t—

“Do you need a change, sweetie?”

My whole world shattered with that simple question, asked as if it was as innocent as asking to borrow a pen.

“Uhh-uhh,” I stammered, “I d-don’t know what you’re—“

“Sweetie,” she giggled, “I know you’re in diapers. The bulk is obvious if you know what to look for. I also know that your bag isn’t bulging at the seams from just textbooks; I imagine you have a few spare diapers in there. I also know that it smells just a little bit like pee, and the culprit is sitting right across from me. Isn’t that right mister?”

Tears started to well in my eyes. I didn’t expect this, and I honestly wasn’t prepared for it. Why would she want to hang out with me if she knew?

“I uhmm— why??”

“Hey, hey… save those alligator tears, okay?”

She gave me the same tender smile she’d worn all night that somehow seemed to portray generous understanding and vigorous curiosity simultaneously.

“I knew you were in diapers before I asked you out on this date,” she reached across the table to wipe a tear from my cheek, “I really don’t mind —in fact, it’s the whole reason I asked you out.”

“R-really?” I asked between tears.

“Yep,” she assured, “I think littles like yourself are just so cute, and I’ve been dying to find a little of my own to care for.”

“O-oh,” I blinked, astonished at the scenario unfolding before me.

“Plus, I think you’re pretty cute…” she blushed.

“T-thanks.”

“So how about I change your diaper, and we get back to studying. Then, if you like, we can get coffee —or hot chocolate for you I guess— sometime after this? What do you say?”

“O-okay.”

Because the library was so deserted, she asserted that it would be fine to change my diaper right on the table. She gently unzipped my shorts and pulled them around one ankle.

“Ahhhww sweetie,” her eyes softened, “these turtle diapers are just adorable! Do you like turtles?”

“Y-yes mommy…”

The title felt strange on my tongue; not unpleasant, and she seemed to beam down at me for using it.

“Can you hold your shirt up for mommy?”

I nodded before holding it with my mouth.

“You’re so cute,” Mommy giggled, “I just know we’re going to have a great time together!”

——————————————————————————

As Always, all characters depicted are 18+

Credit to @ah-bagels for the image

[pin-k-ink]

lilac // gojo satoru

tw ⇢ teacher-student relationship, implied age gap, dub-con, mentions of violence and injuries, a bunch of made up stuff about cursed energy, sex pollen, dry humping, kissing, biting, marking

wc ⇢ 5.8k

a/n: first time writing about sex pollen. i got too lazy to write full smut :/

The deep indigo sky was just beginning to lighten to shades of soft periwinkle and pale violet when you quietly made your way through the still-sleeping streets towards the designated meeting spot. The cobblestone paths were deserted save for a solitary street sweeper pushing a rickety broom. The crisp morning air carried the faint blossomy scent of the cherry trees lining the boulevard. You breathed it in deeply, savoring the peaceful tranquility before the mission's inevitable chaos.

Despite the early hour, an energetic current of nervous anticipation buzzed through your veins, making you feel awake and alive. After weeks - no, months - of persistent nagging and pleading with your mentor Gojo, he had finally agreed to bring you along on a real mission to neutralize a powerful cursed spirit that had been terrorizing a village. This wasn't practice or sparring. This was the real thing, and you could scarcely believe he was trusting you with this level of responsibility.

You had been studying under Gojo's guidance for three years now, quickly marking yourself as his most promising student. Your rapid progress coupled with your earnest enthusiasm clearly endeared you to the laidback master. When you first began apprenticing under him, you admired Gojo's effortless strength and nonchalant confidence. But the more time passed, the more your admiration deepened into something...more. An aching fondness that went beyond student-mentor. You did your best to bury those pesky feelings, but they surfaced anyway in your private moments when your treacherous thoughts strayed to Gojo's disarming grin, his melodic laugh, the gentleness in his touch whenever he adjusted your stance...

Shaking away those distracting thoughts, you turned your focus to the task at hand as you neared the city gates where Gojo said to meet him. You slowed your steps, not wanting to seem overanxious, and scanned the area. At first you didn't see any sign of your mentor. Then a tall, lean figure stepped out from the shadows beneath a flowering dogwood tree, seemingly materializing from the darkness itself. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

Gojo looked as casual and unruffled as ever in his trademark black jacket and fitted trousers. His silver hair was disheveled from sleep, the long bangs framing his angular face. The black blindfold covering his eerily bright eyes was already tied securely in place. He flashed you a teasing smirk as you approached, effortlessly exuding an aura of power and danger despite his relaxed demeanor.

"Well, well," he drawled in that deep, unhurried baritone that never failed to send a shiver down your spine, "Up before the sun, I see. That's my stellar pupil."

You rolled your eyes in an attempt to brush off the feeling of breathlessness that always struck you when he was near. "Like I could sleep after you finally gave in to my requests," you shot back, feigning nonchalance.

Gojo chuckled warmly, the rich sound resonating in your core. "Careful now, that eagerness will get you into trouble."

"I can handle trouble just fine," you retorted with a toss of your hair, steadfastly ignoring the flutter in your belly at his darkly amused tone.

In two long strides, Gojo closed the distance between you. Your breath hitched as he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your cheek in a feather-light touch that set your heart racing wildly. His smile turned wolfish, as if he could sense the effect his proximity had on you.

"Getting awfully bold aren't we?" He murmured in a low rumble. "You'll need to rein in that fire if you want to keep up today."

You scowled and swatted his hand away, silently cursing the flush you could feel rising on your cheeks and neck. "I'm ready for whatever comes my way. You seem to be forgetting I'm the one who's been pestering you about this."

Gojo's smile widened in amusement at your feistiness. With a dramatic flourish, he produced a sleek black case from the inner pocket of his jacket. Your eyes widened in excitement as he flipped it open with his thumb, revealing a gleaming array of freshly crafted cursed tools nestled in plush protective inlays.

"Hard not to remember with how relentless you've been," he teased lightly. Fixing you with that intense stare despite the blindfold, he continued more seriously, "This cursed spirit we're dealing with is immensely powerful and extremely crafty. It won't be like the exercises we've practiced." His expression turned grim. "People have died already. You need to follow my lead exactly as I say, understood?"

You held his searing gaze steadily and nodded once in solemn acknowledgment of the stakes. "I'm ready."

The corner of Gojo's mouth quirked upwards in an approving smirk. "Then let's be on our way. I have a feeling this is going to be a day to remember."

With that ominous quip, he snapped the case closed and set off at a brisk pace. You felt a surge of exhilaration Course through you as you easily matched his long stride, the two of you headed towards the tree-lined path leading out of the city.

The streets were still largely empty, aside from a few bleary-eyed vendors beginning to unpack their wares and set up for morning customers. Gojo waved lazily to the fruit seller positioning bright pyramids of glossy apples and mandarins as you strolled past the market stalls. The salty tang of fresh baked bread from the bakery mingled with the sweet floral perfume wafting from the cherry blossom trees swaying overhead.

"This all seems so...normal," you remarked with a sidelong glance at Gojo. "Hard to believe we're about to go toe-to-toe with a monstrous curse just beyond the city limits."

Gojo made a noise of agreement low in his throat. "Tread carefully. Malignant energy has a way of seeping into the crevices of everyday life before you even realize."

His cryptic warning sent a fresh surge of adrenaline zipping through your bloodstream. You clenched and unclenched your fists in anticipation, feeling the thrum of your heartbeat pulsing with each step. The paved streets transitioned to a packed dirt trail as you passed under the high stone archway marking the city's eastern boundary.

Gojo slowed his pace, scanning the treeline with those uncannily sharp senses of his. You couldn't stop the small shiver of unease that rippled through you as the forest closed in on either side of the path, brilliant sunshine dappling the underbrush in patterned shadows. You couldn't see or hear any signs of disturbance, but an unmistakable feeling of being watched prickled along the nape of your neck.

Seeming to read your sudden tension, Gojo tilted his head towards you fractionally. "Do you feel that?" he murmured under his breath.

You gave an imperceptible nod, adrenaline singing through your veins as your fingers unconsciously drifted towards the compact cursed tools holstered at your hip. Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Gojo's subtle hand signal gesturing to fan out. Instantly on high alert, you veered off slightly to the right, grateful for Gojo's extensive training in non-verbal battlefield communication.

Forward you pressed in taut silence, straining your senses for any indication of the curse's presence. The forest sounds of rustling leaves and trilling birdsong seemed suspiciously...normal. Too normal. That's when it materialized without warning - a towering, amorphous entity comprised of roiling black miasma that blotted out the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy.

You froze in place, fingers instinctively closing around the hilt of your sword as an involuntary tremor of terror lanced through you. The cursed spirit descended in a chaotic swirl, rapidly taking the vaguely humanoid shape of a towering bestial creature. Despite the lack of discernible facial features, you could sense the menacing focus of its attention zeroing in on you and Gojo. A deep, guttural snarl seemed to reverberate from every direction at once.

You snapped into action on sheer muscle memory ingrained from your training, launching a volley of carefully aimed cursed tools to box in the spirit's movement.

But this was no mindless monster. It was shrewd and evasive, more so than Gojo had warned. With a resonating screech, it abruptly shifted form and shot forward straight towards you in a thick miasmic tendril.

You instinctively hurled yourself sideways, the trailing edge of the curse's strike grazing your ribcage and sending you tumbling through the undergrowth. White-hot pain blossomed across your side. Gasping for air, you pushed yourself upright, fingers scrabbling for purchase in the loamy soil as you tried to blink away the spots flickering across your vision.

"Eyes on me!" Gojo's baritone bark sliced through the chaos.

You whipped your head towards the sound of his voice just in time to witness a mind-bending blur of movement as he engaged the curse head-on. Purple-black tentacles of miasma lashed out, only to get effortlessly parried and severed by Gojo's blindingly fast cursed energy. But for every whiplike appendage he disabled, two more seemed to sprout in its place, forcing him to unleash a furious barrage of cursed energy blasts.

Scrambling to your feet, you winced at the searing pain now radiating through your entire torso. Gojo's eyes may have been metaphorically blindfolded, but his hyper-attuned senses clearly tracked your distress. "Get back!" He snarled over the demonic shrieks of the curse.

Like hell you were retreating. You were Gojo's first pupil, his most promising student if the rumors were true. This was your chance to prove your mettle and earn his trust on the battlefield. Drawing your sword, you poured every ounce of cursed energy into enhancing its deadly blade and let it fly in a blinding arc directly at the curse's grotesquely shifting form.

For a fraction of a second, the world seemed to still, the eerie silence shattered only by the high-pitched whistle of your sword spinning through the air. Then, with an explosive impact, it cleaved straight through the curse's torso...or what you assumed to be its torso based on its vaguely humanoid shape. A deafening roar of anguish tore through the forest as the cursed spirit began to rapidly disintegrate, breaking apart into smoldering wisps of miasma.

You allowed yourself a triumphant grin and started to straighten, already picturing the look of approval and pride that would be written across Gojo's stupidly handsome face. But your burst of victory was short-lived. With one final desperate lash, a thick tendril of the curse's dissipating form whipped out and slammed into your chest with staggering force. You felt the air violently expelled from your lungs as you were sent hurtling backwards, back slamming against the trunk of a massive oak tree with bone-jarring impact.

White hot agony detonated through your body as you crumpled into a heap at the base of the tree, struggling to draw breath past the searing pain. Bright sparks of color danced across your vision, the world fading in and out around you in muffled fragments of sight and sound. You were vaguely aware of Gojo yelling your name, but it sounded distorted and distant, drowned out by the thunderous pounding of blood in your ears.

Then he was there, looming over you, those obscured eyes boring into you with intense focus you could practically feel. His mouth was set in a grim line as his large hands roamed over you swiftly but carefully, assessing the damage with deft surety. When he prodded your ribcage, a ragged gasp was torn from your lips and dark spots threatened to consume your vision entirely. You faintly registered his deep rumble of a voice, the words indecipherable beneath the overwhelming waves of agony crashing over you.

Something soft and sweet and floral tickled your senses through the roaring in your ears. You wanted to ask about the fragrance, but unconsciousness was rapidly closing in. The last thing you were aware of before slipping into merciful oblivion was the feeling of strong arms scooping you up, cradling you securely to Gojo's powerfully built chest as the forest blurred past in green and brown smears. Then, nothing.

When you slowly drifted back to awareness, it was to the sensation of being gently jostled by rhythmic movement. Your eyelids felt heavy as lead weights, too monumental an effort to pry them open just yet. But your other senses were able to slowly piece together your surroundings.

The slight swaying told you that you were being carried, carefully cradled against someone's firm chest and shoulder. Gojo's familiar sandalwood-and-citrus scent, now mingled with the cloying floral sweetness you'd caught a whiff of before losing consciousness, enveloped you. The subtle up-and-down rocking combined with the warmth of his body against yours and the even thrum of his heartbeat made you feel inexplicably cozy and safe, like being wrapped in a heated blanket on a chilly morning.

You let out a sleepy murmur, slowly blinking your eyes open. The forest canopy above was streaked with shards of brilliant afternoon sunlight peeking through the lattice of leaves and branches. Gojo glanced down at the sound, his striking features taut with lingering tension and jaw firmly set.

"There you are," his low voice rumbled with unmistakable relief. "Thought you were going to sleep through the rest of the day."

Your brow furrowed as flashes of memory trickled back - the curse, the fight, the searing agony as you slammed into that tree trunk with bone-rattling force. With a wince, you instinctively pressed a hand to your ribcage, which was heavily bandaged beneath the tattered remains of your uniform top.

"Wha...what happened?" you rasped out, throat feeling as dry and brittle as burnt parchment.

"You happened," Gojo replied, a hint of that familiar teasing lilt finally returning to his tone though his expression remained grave. "Disobeyed my order to fall back and instead flung yourself into the fray like a deranged chaos tornado."

Heat flooded your cheeks at his casually derisive words. You opened your mouth to protest, to try vainly justifying your reckless actions, but he swiftly cut you off with a look.

"No, don't even try denying it. Your impulsiveness nearly got you killed today." His jaw tensed, azure eyes hardening behind the dark blindfold. "We finished it off, but not before it inflicted some nasty parting shots."

Gojo paused long enough to gingerly shift you higher against his chest, his arm tightening fractionally around you before continuing in that deep, resonant tone that brooked no argument. "From now on, you follow my lead in the field. No more wild stunts, understood? I can't risk having to continuously bail you out of trouble."

You bit your lower lip, a mortified flush burning your cheeks at the well-deserved chastising. Of course he was right. You had blatantly disregarded his instruction to fall back, too wrapped up in your bravado and desire to impress him.

"I...yes, I understand. I'm sorry, sensei. I made a stupid mistake," you mumbled, shamefaced.

His austere expression softened slightly at your contrition. Slowing to a halt, he carefully resettled your position in his arms so you were fully cradled against his chest like a child. His fingers brushed a few stray tendrils of hair back from your face in an unexpected tender gesture, the gentleness of it causing your breath to hitch.

"We all make mistakes when we're learning, my dear," he said gruffly. "The important thing is to learn from them and become better because of it. You'll get there eventually."

His hand lingered against your cheek for the span of a heartbeat, and you found yourself subconsciously leaning into his calloused palm, savoring the rough warmth of it. Up this close, you could make out the tiny flecks of midnight blue scattered through his brilliant azure irises. His masculine, woodsy scent combined with the sweet floral fragrance clinging to his skin in a heady, intoxicating blend that made your head spin.

Then, abruptly clearing his throat, Gojo straightened and pulled his hand away. "We should get moving while we have daylight left. Don't want you catching a cold in that state."

With long, purposeful strides, he set off once more down the forest path, movements remarkably fluid despite your added weight cradled in his arms. You let your head loll against his shoulder, suddenly overcome with bone-deep weariness. A few times you drifted in and out of a light doze, the steady rhythm of Gojo's steps lulling you into a trancelike state.

Eventually, the forest began to transition to more manicured spaces - orchards and farmland marking the outskirts of a village on the horizon. The fragrance of ripening fruit and freshly turned soil perfumed the air. In the distance, plumes of woodsmoke rose lazily from the first chimney stacks. Gojo's pace slowed fractionally.

"Nearly to my lodgings," he murmured. "Then we'll get you properly patched up and rested."

You hummed a vague noise of acknowledgement, lacking the energy for more. Truthfully, you didn't want this blissful pocket of tranquility where the world seemed to narrow to just you, Gojo, and the hazy calm between breaths to end. Selfishly, you tugged the edges of this peaceful moment around you like a comforting blanket, unwilling to shatter the illusion of domesticity it created - Gojo carrying you home after an arduous mission, tender reassurances and gentle caresses freely given. In these hushed instants, it felt like anything could happen. Something deeper than typical student-mentor affection.

But you knew it was just that - an illusion. One that was rapidly fraying around the edges the closer you drew to your destination. So you allowed your eyelids to drift shut once more, committing every nuance to memory. The lean power coiled in Gojo's body with each step, the rhythmic cadence of his heartbeat against your cheek, the lingering traces of floral sweetness mingling with his familiar earthy scent.

All too soon, the reverie was shattered as Gojo's quiet baritone cut through the stillness. "We're here."

You reluctantly opened your eyes to find him gazing down at you with an inscrutable look, silvery bangs askew from your journey. As he swept inside and settled you on the bed with infinite care, you couldn't help but wonder if the tender way his fingers smoothed across your brow was simply your mind playing wistful tricks.

Gojo's touch lingered for just a moment, calloused fingertips lightly tracing the curve of your cheekbone before he drew his hand back. You tried not to read too much into the tender gesture, reminding yourself it was simply his way of assessing your injuries. Still, you couldn't quite banish the fluttering warmth it sent blossoming in your chest.

"Get some rest," he rumbled in that deep, unhurried drawl that never failed to send a shiver skating down your spine. "I'll fetch supplies to properly dress those wounds."

With that, he rose in one fluidly graceful movement and swept across the small but meticulously tidy room towards a hallway presumably leading to a washroom or storage area. Left alone, you allowed your eyes to drift closed on a weary exhale, suddenly acutely aware of the throbbing ache pulsing through your ribcage with each breath.

The familiar scent of sandalwood and citrus mingled with the lingering floral notes was everywhere, surrounding you in Gojo's uniquely masculine essence. You breathed it in deeply, willing it to soothe and relax you as your mind began to drift.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before the sound of footfalls broke you from your half-doze. Gojo reappeared in the doorway, sleeves neatly rolled up past his elbows and arms laden with a basin of steaming water, a sheaf of clean linen bandages, and an assortment of glass bottles and ceramic pots. He set the supplies down on a low wooden table beside the bed with studied meticulousness.

Unable to contain your curiosity at the sweet floral aroma that clung to him in a delicate cloud, you found yourself asking, "What...what is that fragrance?"

Gojo flashed you an enigmatic half-smile as he settled on the edge of the bed, deft hands already working to remove the makeshift bandages you'd hastily applied in the forest.

"Cherry blossom poultice," he replied, carefully peeling back the soiled linen wrappings to reveal the vivid mottling of blues, blacks, and purples marring the skin across your torso and ribs. You couldn't stifle a pained hiss of indrawn breath at the inflamed sight. Gojo's mouth tightened into a grim line. "That curse may have been a crafty adversary, but it was also saturated with poisonous flora and fauna. A full-body dose could be lethal if left untreated."

Your eyes widened in muted horror at the thought of how narrowly you'd skirted death yet again today. Gojo must have sensed your sudden spike of unease because his next words were spoken in a low, soothing rumble meant to reassure.

"Easy now, you're alright. I managed to mostly deflect and dispel the curse's attack with a barrier before it could fully envelop us." A wry twist of his lips. "Though I did get a hefty face full of the damned pollen for my troubles."

Gojo worked in silence, deft fingers gliding over your skin with the gentlest of touches as he secured the fresh bandages around your torso. You released a shuddering exhale, doing your best to avoid tensing under his careful ministrations. The cloying floral fragrance enveloping you both made you feel slightly lightheaded, senses heightened to an almost dizzying degree.

As Gojo leaned in closer to wrap the linen binding around your ribcage, you inhaled deeply—and immediately regretted it. The intoxicating aroma of cherry blossoms flooded your senses, viscous and sweet, simultaneously making your head spin giddily while liquid warmth unfurled low in your belly. You bit back a small, strangled sound of surprise at the overwhelming sensation.

Gojo froze, hands stilling against you. His head cocked ever so slightly, blindfold shifting as his brow furrowed. You watched his nostrils flare subtly as he scented the air, drawing in that same cloying fragrance.

"Gojo...?" you breathed his name, unable to disguise the husky rasp twining through it.

His strong jaw clenched visibly, throat working on a tight swallow. Those brilliant azure eyes you knew burned too intensely behind his blindfold suddenly seemed to smolder from beneath their obscuring veil. Without a word, Gojo resumed winding the bandages around you with deft efficiency, but his movements had grown noticeably stiff and stilted, muscles taut like finely drawn bowstrings.

You couldn't tear your gaze away from the rippling cords of tendon in his throat, mesmerized by the way they contracted and released with each tight swallow. An insistent throbbing had taken up residence low in your abdomen, sending molten tendrils of liquid heat licking through your veins. The lightheadedness grew more pronounced until you felt almost drunk on the addictive floral sweetness clogging the air.

Then, as Gojo shifted to secure the end of the bandage, the lightest whisper of his knuckles grazing your ribs made you Release a shuddery gasp that seemed indecent in its rawness. His head whipped towards you, body going preternaturally still, as if scarcely daring to breathe.

"Gojo," you rasped again, desperation fraying the edges of his name as that smoldering heat consumption you quickly intensified into a raging inferno. "I...I don't know what's happening, but I feel..."

You trailed off uncertainly, lips parting on shallow pants as your body waged a losing war with itself, nerves alight and senses overwhelmed by conflicting waves of need and fear. What was this feverish madness burning through your veins? Despite the blanket cocooning you, you felt deliriously overheated, skin flushed and tingling with hypersensitivity.

Gojo made a low, gravelly sound in the back of his throat - not quite a growl but infinitely more feral. In one blurring movement, he snatched your wrist and pressed two fingertips to the thunderous leap of your pulse point. You could have sworn his calloused digits seared your flesh with the intensity of his touch. He hissed a sharp curse through gritted teeth.

"Pollen toxin." The words emerged as a rumbling snarl more befitting a caged beast than a human. "Accursed flora. Aphrodisiac compounded by healing catalyst."

His hand was shaking almost imperceptibly where it still gripped your wrist in that punishing hold. When he raised his gaze to yours, it glittered with barely restrained hunger behind the smoldering azure glare - a predator watching its prey with hyperfocus intensity.

You instinctively shrank back slightly, fear and arousal swirling through you in a dizzying cyclone. "W-what do we do?" You stammered breathlessly.

Gojo's jaw worked furiously, each knotted tendon in his broad shoulders standing out in bold relief as if it were taking every ounce of his formidable willpower and control to hold himself back. When at last he spoke, his voice was low and strained to the point of breaking.

"We quell the toxin's influence..." His tongue flicked out to wet his lips in an unconscious, devastatingly sensual gesture that transfixed you. "By any means necessary."

The weight of his words - that deliciously sinful promise laced through the graveled rasp - slammed into you with staggering force. You let out a tremulous whine past your parted lips before you could stop yourself. That seemed to be the hairline fracture in Gojo's restraint.

He moved with the liquid grace of a predator, surging forward to cage you beneath his powerful frame with one corded forearm braced on either side of your head. The wild silver veil of his hair brushed your fevered cheeks as he leaned down until his mouth hovered a hairsbreadth from yours, ragged breaths mingling hotly.

"Last chance to tell me no, little one," he rasped harshly. "Because I won't be able to stop once I've tasted you..."

Instead of voicing protest, you arched helplessly into him with a keening mewl, already intoxicated on the delirious friction of your bodies aligned from abdomen to thigh. Gojo's jaw tensed, a muscle leaping beneath the stubbled hinge as he visibly wrestled the last dregs of his restraint. Then, with a low, defeated groan, he crushed his sinful mouth to yours in a branding kiss of pure liquid fire.

The moment Gojo's lips crashed into yours in that searing, desperate kiss, it was like a thousand lit matches had been set blazing through your veins. You opened for him in a broken gasp, welcoming the velvet rasp of his tongue as it stroked deep to taste you in a carnal claiming.

Gojo kissed you with a ferocious, unbridled hunger—all hints of his usual teasing restraint obliterated by the toxin blazing through his system. He devoured your mouth like a man dying of thirst, coaxing whimpering mewls from your throat with each greedy lap and nip of his talented lips and tongue.

Broad palms mapped the curves of your sides and waist in rough, possessive strokes before cradling the base of your skull to tilt your head for an even more scorching angle. All coherent thought disintegrated under the merciless onslaught of pure sensation as Gojo thoroughly plundered the recesses of your mouth, savoring your taste and scent like it was the elixir of life itself.

When the urgent need for oxygen became too great to ignore, he tore his mouth from yours with a guttural growl, harsh pants ghosting humid over your swollen lips. There was no reprieve, however, as Gojo immediately latched onto the slender column of your throat, laving and suckling at the thundering pulse point with fervent ardor.

You cried out sharply at the exquisite sting of his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, fingernails raking blunt crescents down his powerful back muscles in unbidden retaliation. If anything, it only seemed to stoke the smoldering fire in Gojo hotter and brighter. He ground his jaw against you, low rumbling groans of pure masculine satisfaction vibrating against your neck as he mouthed and laved a path of molten open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones.

Just when you thought the unbearable tension crackling between you would surely snap and consume you both whole, Gojo captured your lips again in an inferno of a kiss. You melted helplessly into the scorching heat of it, thighs parting instinctively as he settled his solid weight more firmly over you. A ragged whine tore from your throat as the hard ridge of his cock ground against your aching pussy through too many maddening layers of clothing.

With a frustrated growl vibrating in his chest, Gojo pinned you with his hips and reached between your bodies to tear at the wrappings securing your clothing. You watched with rapt fascination as those wickedly deft fingers made quick work of the fastenings and laces, exposing more and more fevered flesh to the slick glide of his calloused palms and mouth's scorching caresses.

Under that searing azure gaze obscured by the blindfold, you had never felt more bare, more exquisitely possessed by the intensity of his focused want. Gojo mapped every quivering inch of you with insatiable focus—branding a path of stinging love bites down the swell of your breasts, laving at the juncture of your inner thighs until your startled cries spiraled high into shamelessly wanton keens.

"Satoru...ahh! Please...I can't—" you gasped out in a wavering plea, trembling with the effort of withstanding the relentless onslaught on your senses. Every nerve felt scorched raw and electrified, each glancing caress igniting liquid fire in its wake. It was maddening, this exquisite torture of your senses being drawn out to the brink of snapping.

Drunk on the honeyed elixir of your combined intoxicating scents, Gojo only growled hungrily and rose to capture your lips once more. He poured every ounce of his elemental yearning into the plundering strokes of his tongue and nips of blunted teeth until you keened into the kiss with unbearable abandon, utterly overwhelmed.

Desperate, you wound your fingers into the thick silver tresses at his nape and tugged sharply—half plea, half demand swallowed by the ravenous crash of your joined mouths. To your shock, Gojo answered with a full-bodied shudder and an incoherent rumble of pleasure. He dragged himself inch by scorching inch away from you, lips clinging to yours until the last possible moment.

When you finally surfaced for air, Gojo was watching you with heavy-lidded intensity, chest heaving visibly. Stray tendrils of snowy hair fell in disheveled disarray framing his chiseled features, thoroughly wrecked and devastatingly sensual. You drank in the sight of him like the most tantalizing of ambrosia, lips swollen and kiss-bruised, unruly black cloth now tented obscenely over his straining cock.

"...not done with you yet," he rasped in that low, gravel-and-smoke tone that cinched desire into an exquisite knot at your core with each rumbled syllable. "Not even close."

Then, with a leonine grace at odds with his wild dissolution, Gojo prowled up your body to press you into the bed once more.

Gojo's intense gaze smoldered with undisguised hunger as he loomed over you, body taut with simmering restraint. His kiss-swollen lips curved into a wolfish grin, fingers trailing featherlight paths down your fevered skin until you trembled beneath his smoldering touch.

"So responsive," he rumbled in that gravel-toned rasp that seemed to vibrate straight through you. "I'm going to take such sweet torment unraveling you piece by exquisite piece, my dear."

True to his dark promise, Gojo set about blazing a scorching trail of open-mouthed kisses and teasing nips along the sensitive peaks and valleys of your body. Each maddeningly light caress and rasp of his stubbled jaw seemed to stoke the banked embers of want coiling low in your core into an inferno. You writhed shamelessly against him, desperate for friction, for release, for anything to douse the liquid flames licking through your veins.

But Gojo was relentless in his unhurried torment, heedless of your increasingly desperate pleas that dissolved into tremulous whimpers. With skilled hands and lips and teeth, he steadily unraveled your restraint into boneless want until all you could do was fist your fingers into the disheveled silk of his hair and hang on for the exquisite unbearable ride.

At last, when you teetered at the precipice of shattering into a thousand incandescent shards, Gojo claimed your lips in a searing, possessive kiss, swallowing your cries.

Gojo's kiss consumed you utterly—a ferocious melding of questing tongues and nipping teeth that robbed you of breath and higher cognition. You could only cling to the bunched muscles of his back and surrender yourself to the relentless onslaught of sensation as he mapped every ridge and plane of you with fervent ardor.

Calloused palms branded searing paths over your fevered skin, stoking the flames of desire raging through your veins ever higher until the air felt too thick to breathe. Every graze of Gojo's lips and roll of his powerful hips against yours ripped open-mouthed cries from your parted lips, urgency mounting to a crescendo.

You lost all sense of time and space, the world contracting to encompass only the joined rhythm of Gojo’s cock sliding against your soaked pussy, the heated rasp of entwined breaths, the exquisite drag of sweat-slicked skin against skin. Wave after wave of delirious sensation swelled and crested, carrying you under until only Gojo's name remained—a breathless litany falling from your lips over and over like a fevered prayer.

At last, when you teetered dizzily on the brink of your orgasm, Gojo's mouth found that electrifying confluence of nerves at the juncture of your shoulder. He suckled at the thundering pulse point, teeth grazing in a stinging promise, and you instantly shattered apart into thousands of fractal aftershocks. A broken, sobbing cry was torn from your very core as you felt a gush of fluid.

Through the whiteout haze, you were dimly aware of Gojo following you over that dizzying edge with a hoarse, guttural shout muffled against your sweat-dampened neck. He collapsed against you in a boneless sprawl, harsh breaths sawing from his heaving chest and mingling with the heated puff of your panting exhalations.

For long, suspended moments, you simply clung to one another, bodies thrumming with residual tremors of release. Gradually, your scattered senses began knitting themselves back together, awareness expanding once more beyond the microcosm of tangled limbs and mingled heartbeats.

The potent floral aroma still hung thick in the air, but its cloying, dizzying influence seemed to have finally abated from your brutally overwhelmed senses. You became aware of a dull throbbing ache reclaiming the space between your temples—the first tugs of an impending pollen sickness headache, no doubt.

Beside you, Gojo stirred with a low groan rumbling deep in his chest, blindfold slightly askew to reveal a sliver of those bright azure irises heavy-lidded with satiation. It was clear the toxin's hazy, lust-fueled madness had finally burned itself out in the wake of your animalistic humping. In its place remained a bone-deep lassitude weighing your tangled limbs into pleasant heaviness.

Gojo nuzzled against the slick curve of your throat, lips ghosting across the wildflower petals scattered there—faint purpling bruises in the shapes of his fervent mouth's passage. His voice rasped low and grave when he spoke at last.

"Well...that was certainly one way to burn through the excess pollen."

You startled into a soft huff of incredulous laughter that soon bubbled into fuller peals. Grinning wolfishly despite his apparent exhaustion, Gojo angled himself higher to bestow a lingering, openmouthed kiss that persisted even as your laughter slowly faded into blissful, languid quiet.

[luvjunie]

KNEW BETTER — e42!miles x fem!reader

SUMMARY. the alluring pull of a stranger entices you to make a risky decision all too familiar to your last WORD COUNT. 3,754 CONTENTS. miles and reader are in their late teens for realistic purposes, language, brief mention of a kiss, my attempt at an adequate plot and characterizations that actually have substance SONG INSPO. “knew better/forever boy” by ariana grande AUTHOR’S NOTE. i currently have no plans to take this further but inspiration struck and i had to write it lolll

How did you end up here?

Sticking out like a sore thumb on the roof top of a family party that definitely wasn’t yours, though they’d started to feel like it in the last few months. It’s not like your family would be mature enough to come together, put their pride aside for five minutes, and get along the way these people were. And after your parents’ separation became official earlier this year, negotiation was way out of the question. This distraction from the chaos you left back home was more than welcomed.

Your friend’s hand was starting to pale from how hard you were clutching onto it, yet you didn’t notice. The music was loud and a little upbeat for your taste, but you slightly bobbed your head to it anyway, a mindless thing you found yourself doing regardless of whether you could understand the lyrics to the song or not. There's no way you’d be caught dead at a party looking as if you didn’t have at least an ounce of rhythm.

Noticing your nerves, as well as the growing ache of her fingers, your friend Camila turned her head to the side, her silky, chestnut brown tresses flowing over her shoulder when she shouted over the bass of the speakers.

“Don’t be nervous! They’re all real nice, I promise!”

"Camila—" barely hearing what she said, you stopped for a second to give a sweet smile to an older lady who passed you, then softly tugged her arm to get her attention. “Can’t we just, stay in that cute little corner over there with the—“ you paused. “What are those— enchiladas?”

“Empanadas.” She corrected with a lighthearted eyeroll, her Queen’s accent heavy on her tongue. “And no way! I want you to meet everyone.”

"Everyone—wait what?” Your eyes bulged. You probably resembled a looney-tunes character at the moment. “I thought I’d officially met everyone last month at the uhh— the fuckin—“ You made a wafting motion with your hands, as if it’d prompt your brain to get your thoughts out as quickly as the two of you were walking. “The Heritage Month BBQ, thingy?”

This was the first time the doe-eyed girl had stopped to look at you throughout your walk through the venue—like, actually look at you—and of course it was only to laugh at your ridiculous observation. She nearly doubled over.

“Ha!- Yeah, nah. That was a funny joke though.” she giggled. “That was family family. This is family and family friends. So basically, more family. You know that!”

Oh yeah. Makes complete sense. Family didn’t even sound like a word anymore at this point, you thought to yourself as she pulled the both of you to a stop at the drink table.

You and Camila had been friends ever since the second grade. The girl had the prettiest hazel eyes and the longest, shiniest hair you'd ever seen. Since time she’s liked to refer to herself as the “Puerto Rican-Filipina Rapunzel", and though the term she’d come up with was a bit of a mouthful, you’d be lying if you tried to disagree.

She’d waltzed up to your secluded spot at indoor recess in Mrs. Walter’s class, demanded the two of you be friends, and even gave you a pink Hello Kitty sticker to accompany her proposition.

And seeing as you couldn’t remember much before that, you really couldn’t remember a time when Camila wasn’t in your life, either. Protecting you from anyone who might have anything to say about her bestfriend, and always quick to step in front of you and get in someone’s face about it, even if the someone in question was a burly 6’3 football player who had to crane his neck to look down at who was cursing him out a mile a minute.

If people saw Camila, they saw you, too. That’s just how the two of you rolled. And yeah, you’d been to more than a few family parties, slapped on some low-waisted, bejeweled miss-me jeans and boots to fit in with the dress code, and attended a few bailes even though you couldn’t dance for shit. But you’d never been to a gathering of theirs that was this large. What was the occasion?

As you watched her scoop a ladle of some sort of homemade drink mix into a red solo cup, you realized you’d unintentionally asked the question in your head.

“So, what’s the big occasion?” You took in your surroundings, noting how happy everyone looked.

“Ah, my aunt finished her M.D program, or somethin’ like that. Basically, she’s gonna be a real big doctor soon, so you know we had to party. My cousin invited me."

“Mm,” you nodded stalely, accepting the cup she quickly pushed into your hand before she went to pour another for herself.

“Speaking of my cousin…”

There was a mischievous glint in Camila’s eyes. Was mischevious the right word? Maybe excited, but either way, you didn’t like it one bit.

Mid sip, you slowly lowered your drink from your lips, eyes narrowing at her in suspicion.

“Camila Janaé Reyes. What are you plotting?”

“Nothingggg!”

Judging by that tone, it was definitely not nothing.

“I just want you to meet him, that’s all.” Her words drawled as she gave you one of her sickeningly sweet smiles, and you whined like a child who’d just been asked to put a coat on before leaving the house.

“Seriously, ‘Mila? That’s why you invited me?”

“No! Well… Kinda?” she grimaced.

Your bestfriend could be quite persistent, especially with specific things others didn’t want her to be persistent with. Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and of course, that trait is almost impossible to recognize in yourself.

This—the overbearing persistence, the thinking that she knew better for everyone than they did themselves—was Camila’s, and it irked you to your core like no other.

“Camila, I told you, no boys. I don’t even think I have it in me after..." The rest of the sentence died on your tongue as your hand came up to pinch the bridge of your nose, prompting Camila to give you a knowing head nod. With her, you didn’t even have to finish the thought.

“I know, I know,” she said. “But his mom’s been a little worried about how quiet he’s gotten and asked if I could bring someone for him to talk to. So, I thought maybe you guys could be friends or something. That’s it! He don’t got many, and you—well…”

You almost cracked a smile at that, even though you were still annoyed with her. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

You somehow found it in you to let your guard down a bit, which, in theory, would probably come back to bite you in the ass later. You just didn’t know how soon that would be the case.

Your shoulders slumped, a telltale sign of you ready to throw in the towel, just this once like you always did. Camila was already getting excited.

“Alright, alright. Who’s your cousin?”

The petite girl rolled her lips inward to bite back a wide grin, and instead of answering you, she slid beside you and slunk her arm around your shoulders. Her neck stretched for a second as she scanned the lively gathering, her eyes widening once she found who she was scouting for.

She gestured with her chin, not wanting to make it obvious.

“See that guy by himself over there? Like, six foot two, wide shoulders, lowkey thinks he’s Batman, kinda gotta mug on him? He’s nice though, swear. When he wants to be.”

You squinted into the distance. “Uhh… I think that’s a woman, ‘Mila.”

She gasped at that, shoving your shoulder hard enough to almost make you stumble. “No not my Tia Beatriz, you bitch!”

“Oh shit—“

A laugh tore through your apology before you could stop it, and the girl next to you made a sound with her throat that was clearly her trying to hold back her own laughter.

"Idiota," she mumbled.

Two hands clamped down on your shoulders before you felt your body shift to the side a bit, someone else coming into view once your perspective changed.

“I’m talkin’bout him.”

The last time you could recall your heart dropping into your ass at this same rate was when your mom caught you trying to stuff your bra in the sixth grade before the bus arrived. And somehow, that feeling still wasn’t comparable to this.

This—this was much different.

“Y’see him?”

How could you not?

A little ways down, casually leaned back on an elbow at the tall edge of the roof, stood a lanky-looking, brownskinned boy who was far too handsome for his own good. Clad in a fitted black shirt and a cropped leather jacket, you could tell that piece of clothing alone cost more than your entire outfit. He was rocking some straight-legged, black cargo pants and a pair of Air Jordan 1’s you’d never seen before. There was a jaded look plastered on his face, and something about his body language led you to believe that he was forcing himself to be here.

You swallowed,

“That’s your cousin?”

Camila’s insanely, good looking, cousin, if you hadn’t mentioned that already. Not even her older brother was this fine. This boy put the childish crush you had on Luis to absolute shame.

“Mm-hm.”

Your gaze alternated back and forth between her and the boy in the distance. "But, you guys don’t—“

“Yeah, yeah, I know. We get that a lot, big family.” She waved you off, probably having heard this a million times.

Her posture suddenly straightened with newfound determination, and it made your heart jump.

“Well, what are we just standin’ here for? Let’s go-“

“Nope. Nuh uh.”

Camila’s head recoiled when she raised a questioning brow at you. “Fuck you mean ‘nuh uh’?”

You balked at her as if the answer were obvious.

“I am not talking to that man!”

“Well why not?” she asked incredulously.

“Because he is fine as hell, are you crazy? I ain’t got no business goin’ over there.” You don’t know why you were lowering your voice; it’s not like he’d be able to hear you over the music anyway.

But, just by a stroke of luck, he suddenly looked up, probably due to the sweltering heat of your eyes dissecting his entire persona.

“Anddd now he’s looking at me. Oh my god,” you whisked around as casually as you could play off, fingers pressed to your hot forehead as you cursed beneath your breath.

His line of sight was cast in your direction, and though he could’ve been looking right past you, which was simply wishful thinking on your end, that was a chance you absolutely weren’t going to take.

“Yeah, he’s always able to catch people staring. I don't know how he does it… And s’kinda weird now that I think about it…” Camila mumbled distractedly to herself, her pondering eyes drifting skywards. A sharp elbow to her side, yours to be exact, was enough to pull her out of her observation and earn you a pained whine.

“Focus! What do I do now? He probably thinks I’m a creep.” you groaned.

A puff of amused air blew from her nose. “Yeah, I doubt that. He’s a bit of an odd ball himself.”

That definitely did nothing to make you feel better.

“Besides, he don’t bite,"

Your feet weren’t moving on your own accord as you began walking; it was Camila tugging you out of your in-plain sight hiding spot and towards the very boy you were just marveling at.

“I think.” she added.

“Camila, I really don’t think this is a good idea—“

Through the rush of the brief murmur-screamed argument you had with her, the walk over to him was surprisingly much shorter than your brain had estimated it to be. And of course, ever the gentleman with perfect manners, the boy in question clicked his phone off and tucked it away in his front pocket once he saw the both of you approaching him.

Camila put on her sweetest voice, and albeit a bit annoying, her intentions were pure.

“Heyyy, Miles! How are you?”

Miles. That’s a cute name. Or is it only cute because I think he’s cute? Fuck, I’m spacing out, aren’t I?

The light baritone in his voice edged you to believe that it was the latter.

“Hey cous’, I’m straight.”

Miles was talking to Camila, but he was staring dead at you while he did, as if he was purposely trying to send you into a terribly premature fit of cardiac arrest.

He had a solemn look to him; face hardened with faint frown lines that seemed a bit unfitting for his age. The only resemblance these two shared was the striking allure of hazeled eyes and how they were both able to have people lost in them without even trying. There was an energy that radiated from him—something about his presence that you felt a pull towards. It wasn’t intimidating, or brooding, no. It was more on the lines of intoxicating. And it didn’t necessarily make you uncomfortable, per se, but the fact that you couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling his stare was giving you most definitely did.

It was a known fact that you couldn’t hold eye contact for shit, and an observing Miles easily picked up on that after the third time your eyes had darted back and forth between his own and any random object you could keep your attention on. So, when he finally decided to spare you and directed them towards his chirpy cousin instead, you felt like you could finally breathe again and stole an embarrassingly deep inhale that nearly made you lightheaded.

“So wassup, who’s this?” Miles motioned towards you with a slight tilt of his head, hands nonchalantly planted in the pockets of his jacket.

Now that the focus was off you for a second, you used this to your advantage and took a moment to get a good, close look at him.

Everything about him was clean cut and neat—strategic. From his sharp, tapered hairline that was so precise that not a single strand of hair was out of place, to the tidy twin braids that kissed his shoulders, and even down to his shoes. They were crisp, and looked like he’d taken them right out the box before he came here, but you could tell that wasn’t the case. It was clear from the way he carried himself and the fresh ass silver cuban link hanging round his neck that he simply cared about his appearance enough to keep them that way.

“This,” A subtle, yet intentional squeeze to your right arm brought you back to the conversation. “is Y/n, my bestfriend. I don’t think she’s met you yet, so I just thought I’d introduce the two of you.”

He didn’t even nod. You weren’t even sure if he blinked. All he gave was a vague,

“Mm.”

What the fuck did that mean? Was that a good mm, or a bad mm?

Your ruminating was interrupted when Camila quietly murmured something to Miles that you couldn’t quite make out, her eyes hard in warning.

“Sé amable y no hagas nada estúpido. De verdad.” (Be nice and don’t do anything stupid. For real.)

He kissed his teeth at that, an indistinct irritation lingering in his tone at the latent reprimanding. “Nunca hago nada estúpido.” (I never do anything stupid.)

Brows bunched in confusion, your lashes fluttered in annoyance upon realizing it was their intent to keep you out of the brief exchange.

“Well,” Camila clapped her hands. “I’ll leave y’all kids to it! I need to go grab some of those pinchos before they’re all gone.” Both you and Miles sent an irked look her way when she gave a cheesy thumbs up and dipped.

It was just the two of you now, and since names were already out of the way, you hadn’t the slightest idea of where to start. But the worry didn’t last long; Miles was the first to speak up, which you were more than grateful for.

“So, how you know my cousin again?” His brow peaked. “Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Miles was good with faces—excellent, actually. He spent a lot of time people watching; knew most of Brooklyn by now, and he definitely wouldn’t have forgotten a face like yours. So he let his eyes drink you in from head to toe, committing you to memory. And damn, he sure picked a good day to be social.

You tried to focus on your answer instead of the glint of his earrings or the sharp of his jaw when his head turned to the side, so you settled on studying the buildings that lined the magenta-stained skyline in the distance.

“Well, there’s not much to it, really. I met her in the second grade, and she said we were bestfriends now, no questions asked. Guess it’s been that way ever since.” you shrugged.

“Yeah, sounds like her," he chuckled, shifting to rest both his elbows on the ledge as his back leaned against it. “She can be a little—“

“Persistent?” you interjected knowingly, a small smile painting your features.

“Shit, you tellin’ me," he snorted. “I guess that’s a nicer way to put it.”

Miles picked his cup up from where he’d previously set it down and took a swig. So far, this conversation wasn’t nearly as grueling as he’d expected it to be, and shockingly enough, he might’ve even been enjoying your company.

But unknown to you, this wasn’t the first time Miles had been introduced to one of Camila’s friends. He’d met probably three of them at this point, and honestly, he was a little over his cousin trying to throw him a bone he didn’t ask for. Did he entertain them? Possibly, for fun. Though it’s not like he actually enjoyed their presence. But there was something intriguing about you that he didn’t pick up on with the others, and he was starting to wonder what was in this punch.

“Hol’ on,” a curious look crossed his face. “You from Queens, right?”

“Mhm, grew up in the same building as Camila and everything. Why?”

“You’on really sound like it, that’s all.” he noted. Poking at the inside of your cheek with your tongue, you battled with an answer.

“Yeah, I… go back and forth, a lot.” You gave a half-hearted smile, in which he responded to with a simple nod.

Your brows furrowed as a sudden realization dawned on you.

“Y’know, now that I think about it... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you, either. You don’t come around often, do you?”

“Mm,” His lips pushed into an upturned frown—that thing people usually did when someone wasn’t far from being correct. He gave a shadowy answer and changed the subject.

“You could say that. Camila’s brought you to one of these before, I’m guessing?”

“Mm-hm, all the time.” You nodded, swirling around the fizzy liquid in your cup. “I usually chill with the elders, though.”

“Heard that.” Miles understood you completely, the corner of his mouth lifting into a lopsided smile.

Now that you’d had the chance to actually speak with him, he wasn’t nearly as aloof as you’d presumed him to be.

“This your mom’s party?”

“Yes ma'am." he hummed.

You took a quick breath in through your nostrils, and Miles almost laughed at how much one word affected you.

"So..." Your eyes cautiously dragged their way over to him. “Why aren’t you celebrating with everyone else?”

Your tone was careful. Like you already knew your question was personal.

His jaw tensed for a beat and his smile dimmed a little, but he was shrugging and back to his coolheaded mien before you could make any inferences on how your question might’ve made him feel.

“Just like bein’ by my lonely, I guess. Better this way.”

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made themselves slightly less favorable, and this was yours. Asking intimate questions too soon, unintentionally trying to uproot information about someone’s life through the innocent curiosity that usually got you into trouble.

“S’ain’t really my kind of vibe anyway." he admitted with a flippant gesture toward the party.

You mindlessly fiddled with the charm bracelet dangling from your wrist.

“And what’s your ‘kind of vibe?’”

It was a genuine question. Honest. You knew his confession came in passing, yet that didn’t deter you from wondering what he was thinking when he said it.

Miles’ aureate gaze floated to your person, and you watched as he studied your features. Eyes flitting between the both of yours, as if he were trying to get a read on you without having to ask.

You relaxed a little when he finally cracked a mirth-kissed grin.

“You just full of questions, huh?” he teased, a glint in his eye.

Somewhere in the midst of this conversation, his body had turned towards yours, and you hadn’t noticed until now that he was facing you completely. You looked to him with the same intensity he gave you and played right back.

“You could say that.”

There were a few seconds of internal struggle, seen in the way he fought to pull his gaze away. Teeth biting at the inside of his cheek like he needed a taste of pain to remind him to behave. But, when he caught sight of the way you were looking at him, that little voice in the deep of his mind wasn’t nearly loud enough for him to listen to it.

Licking at his dry lips, he knew better, but he asked anyway with an appetent tilt of his head.

“You wanna get outta here?”

—

Now how did you end up here?

Party forgotten like an old toy on Christmas morning. A newfound agenda on your mind and a new pair of lips on yours to match.

You knew good and well that the question he asked didn’t entail stepping away from the party to get a breath of clean air; in fact, you were finding it quite difficult to breathe right about now.

Huh, and here you thought he was a gentleman.

And Miles was fully aware that this was probably a bad idea, but when he wanted something, it was as if tunnel vision clouded any chance of better judgement.

Every human on this earth had a trait that irritated someone or made them slightly less favorable, and Miles was not excluded from this verity.

Starting things he knew he wouldn’t finish, was his.

[jaywonjuice]

📄🖇️— him meeting your family ~ p.js

pairing bf!jay x gn reader

genre fluff, oneshot

request: “hii! i was wondering if i could request a drabble/scenario for jay pls? :) i’m a sucker for fluff so maybe something like taking him to meet your family for the first time at a family reunion? and then he’s getting along so well with the baby cousins and the family loves him :’) i’m in my jay era rn and this scenario would make my whole week! no rush tho!! i love your works so far btw, and i can’t wait to follow you on this journey of growing your library! <3 xx”

warnings sfw intimacy, kissing

wc 655

‘aren’t i the one who’s supposed to be feeling nervous about this?’ said jay with a wry smile, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. you glanced over at him, taking in his calm expression and marvelling at his ability to remain so composed given the circumstances. you, on the other hand, couldn’t help yourself from fidgeting restlessly in the passenger seat. jay placed a hand on your knee gently to still it.

‘love, it’s going to be fine, i promise,’ he shot you a reassuring smile, which you attempted to return weakly. ‘mums always love me anyway,’ he added with a wink, hoping to get you to laugh, but right now you were too preoccupied to play along.

‘yeah, it’s just…’ you chewed at your thumbnail, staring out the window. ‘i don’t know. i’ve never brought a boyfriend back home before. like, ever. and the whole family is going to be there.’ you sighed, slumping against the headrest.

jay smiled. ‘try not to worry. i promise it’s going to be fine. i for one am looking forward to meeting your folks.’ he reached for your hand and gave it a small squeeze.

.❦.

once you arrived at your parents’ place, you weren’t even sure what you had been worrying about the whole time. as expected, jay had been a gentleman from the moment he stepped through the door, shaking your father’s hand, and greeting your mother politely before passing her the bottle of wine he’d brought up with him. he had charmed every last one of your aunts, who looked on impressed as he helped to lay the table and plate up lunch. your teenage cousins had giggled and whispered to each other behind their hands, eyes darting over at him all throughout the meal.

after he’d finished helping clear up all the dishes, he finally came to join you in the family room. it took all of thirty seconds for him to spot the cabinet of baby pictures and trinkets that sat on the mantelpiece, and he approached eagerly to watch you grow up through photographs.

‘this one was when we visited the states - lord, going on twelve years ago now,’ your dad passed a small wooden picture frame over to jay. ‘wasn’t (s)he cute, eh?’

jay nodded, smiling. ‘very,’

later in the evening, you’d watched from the sofa as he sat on the rug with your little cousin, who was enthusiastically presenting jay with all of her new toys. he received each one with interest, his face animated, eyes widening and giving little gasps as she explained them all to him in great detail. the way he smiled sweetly down at her made your heart ache just a little. when she had finally shown jay every last little stuffed animal, she turned to him, all of a sudden looking very serious.

‘are you and y/n in love??’ she demanded abruptly.

jay gave a little laugh, tousling her hair affectionately. then he looked up at you, softly. ‘yeah. we are,’ he replied.

.❦.

it felt oddly comforting to be back in your childhood bedroom again with jay by your side, the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling providing a small fluorescent glow in the otherwise complete darkness. you rested your head again his chest and sighed deeply. the long day of travelling and socialising had taken it out of you both completely; you were exhausted.

‘your family are nice,’ jay mumbled after a while.

‘yeah,’ you said quietly. ‘they think you’re nice,’ you added. ‘i think you’re nice,’ you told him on top of that, wrapping your arms around his waist snugly and hugging him to you.

‘is that so?’ you could hear the smile in his voice.

‘yeah,’ you nuzzled into his chest. ‘the nicest.’

.❦.

the following morning, the two of you stood by the front door saying your goodbyes to your parents. as jay hugged your mother farewell, your dad gave you a kiss on the cheek, before nodding over at jay. ‘he’s a keeper, this one,’ he winked.

jay held your hand all the way from the door to the car, where he opened up the passenger side for you, but before you could get in, he pulled you close to him suddenly, catching you so off guard that you blushed furiously.

‘i love you,’ he said quietly, his nose brushing your own. you moved to say it back, but his lips were pressed to yours before you’d even got the chance.

a/n literally what a dream request ty anon !! i could go on abt domestic jay all day every day forever until my lungs give out he’s so husband bye ㅠㅠ

TAGLIST ೃ⁀➷ @thejakeslayla @shawnyle

©jaywonjuice | do not copy or re-upload my work on any platform

[aikuse]

-> first meeting: first sunset | 1,425 words. gn!reader, reader wears a bikini, alcohol consumption.

author’s notes: he’s so summer love, god. i’ll probably expand on this eventually but this is very selfship coded,,,also semi-inspired by @dearkiryu and i's convos abt him 🤭

you remember the first time you met jo togame.

you’d just gotten off the plane, the smell of the sea tingling your nose as you had bounded into the terminal, your carry-on in tow. you make it to your hotel without issue, and spread out on the bed, rolling around the soft sheets and smiling to yourself.

the beach had drawn you in quickly, pulling you by the strings of your bikini as you wander across the sand. a few chairs are set up, scattered across the beach in speckles of blue and white and teal. you’d sat for a long time in the spot of your choice, sipping on one of the beers in your cooler.

you’d been swiping through the matches in your phone absentmindedly, not really invested but interested to see where things go. you don’t even pay attention to what the guys look like; many of them look so similar. surf body, blonde curls, blue eyes. “yes, i get it, you live in california,” you mumble to yourself as you toss your phone in your bag, pulling your sunglasses over your eyes and settling back into the chair to drift off for a little bit.

a shadow casts over you, and you squint, looking up.

it’s a man. and he’s pretty.

you lean up, squinting. “can i help you?”

the man shrugs, moving out of the sun’s way and sitting on the chair next to you, the supports squealing under his weight. he was tall, muscles rippling underneath his skin; at least six feet with pretty braided black hair, wisps of it falling across the sides of his face. he’s wearing those translucent sunglasses, tinted orange as he leans over, wiggling his phone.

“didn’t think i’d meet one of my matches so soon.”

you gasp, looking through your phone. sure enough, there he was, looking exactly the same as he did before you. except in his photo, he’d had brilliant green eyes.

the same ones that held your gaze now, with nothing but kindness behind them.

“s-sorry,” you manage to stammer out, embarrassment flooding through your system. “i didn’t think i would either.”

he chuckles, a deep rumble in his chest as he leans back. “don’t worry ‘bout it. did ya mind if i kept ya company for a little while?”

there’s something about him that pulls you in. it could be his voice and its lilting tone; perhaps his eyes? or maybe even the way he’s holding the same beer you’re drinking right now, as you look down and notice there’s one extra missing.

you gasp again. “did you steal one of my beers?”

he answers with a shrug, a smirk tugging at his lips as he cracks the can. “maybe.”

you huff, rolling your eyes. “you’re a piece of work already. jesus, accosting me where i can’t say no to you, and then taking one of my beers? you’re ridiculous.”

he doesn’t respond, but instead chooses to smile again at you. “yeah, but i’m hot, so sometimes i can get away with about ninety percent of that.”

“don’t talk yourself up so much. it’s egotistical.”

he takes a sip, smacking his lips. “that may be, but i like t’ go after what i want quickly. i like opportunity, y’know? and ya seemed pretty bored out here, anyway.”

he’s right, you are bored. solo traveling has its perks, but people watching can only get you so far. you hum, bringing your own beer to your lips. the chill and carbonation make you feel a little less nervous with every moment that passes.

“what’s your name?”

“togame. jo togame. you?”

you tell him yours, and he smiles again.

“pretty name for a pretty thing like you.”

well, that was something else. having a man come on so strong to you wasn’t unknown to you, but it felt odd every time it happened. like you were unworthy of such praise and attraction due to, well, you.

he relaxes after that, simply basking in the sunshine next to you, asking questions about where you’re from and why you’re here. you don’t answer him honestly, of course; he seemed fine, but you can never be too careful. he doesn’t chase after more answers, seemingly satisfied with the short responses you’ve given him.

what a weird guy.

ironically, it had been a long, relaxing day with togame; contrary to popular belief, he was quite charming. and his slight ego interested you deeply, to the point where he’s stood and offered his hand to take you for a walk across the beach.

your legs are warm as you walk beside him. there’s a smile plastered on his face, soft with the edges of his lips slightly upturned, his eyes gentle behind his sunglasses.

“so, what’re ya really here for?”

“what do you mean?” you take a sip of your beer.

he shrugs, placing his hands behind his head and leaning back just a hair, his eyes sliding shut. “dunno. jus’ curious.”

you hum. “curious, huh?”

his hand scratches the back of his head. he looks embarrassed, his eyes darting to you and away, as if he’s scared of what he’s about to say.

“someone like you shouldn’t be alone.”

you can’t tell if it’s sunburn or blush that’s making your face feel hot and red, and you scoff, rolling your eyes. “unfortunately, many people don’t tend to agree with that statement.”

you avoid his gaze. you can feel it sizing you up, but it feels nice. it feels like he cares; a stranger, whose taken you on silly errands of his own within hours of knowing only his name. you’d taken a risk, you know that; you know what could have happened.

but it didn’t. somewhere, some solo traveler god has you in their thoughts. and they’d sent him, with braided black hair and pretty orange sunglasses that do nothing to hide the way he’s eyeing you.

instead, he takes your beer, ignoring your protests as he places it on one of the tables between deck chairs. the look he gives you after fills you with dread. you know what he’s about to do. every neighborhood boy had that same look at every pool party you’d been to, when things got a little too laidback.

“jo, don’t you dare—“

he completely ignores you, choosing instead to pick you up like you weighed nothing. your vision goes awry, the world rolling around in your line of sight as he walks into the water, ignoring the battering of your fists on his back.

then, the cold water hits you, saltiness stinging your tongue and your skin as you gasp, hitting the wet, sandy floor of the shallows with an oof.

after some spluttering, you wipe your face and glare at him from where he’s standing, a few feet off to the side with a horrific grin plastered across his face. he thought it was funny.

let’s see how funny he finds this.

you stand up, clothes sticking to your skin as you shake your head to get the water out. then, you lean down, arms in the water.

he looks at you. “oh, seriously?”

his tone is too teasing to be serious, so you smirk, letting loose a spray of water that slaps him all over, particularly in the face. he staggers, removing his sunglasses as he splutters away, spitting the sand and salt out of his mouth. giggles erupt from your chest as you hold your stomach. you haven’t laughed like this in a long time. a very, very long time.

you ignore the forlorn feeling present there. there’s no time to dwell on those thoughts right now.

you had something right in front of you that could take your mind off of it.

you both play around in the shallows for a long time. so long, that the sun begins to set on the horizon, setting the ocean ablaze in shades of red, yellow and orange. togame’s hand is in your own by then, his chest pressed skintight against your back. you’d slid between his legs on the bench, right between his thighs, making yourself comfortable. your beer is long gone, having been finished hours prior.

you fold your fingers between togame’s, resting your intertwined hands against his thigh. you don’t want to leave, but you know you should. not to mention, you could work up the courage to invite him in by the time you arrived at your hotel if you ask him to accompany you.

“walk me home?”

he nods. “thought ya’d never ask.”

divider credit: @/cafekitsune networks: @interstellar-inn @themovingcastlez

disclaimer: DO NOT copy or repost my works for any reason. translations are acceptable, but please ask for permission first!

© togamest 2023-2024

[o-sachi]

Bridges ‧₊˚ ⋅ Drabble

ଳ you meet each other one morning on a long winding bridge ଳ character; karasu tabito (blue lock) ଳ tags; floof, gn reader, no y/n, reader is implied to be Hiori's childhood buddy, all 3 of them are friends!

[🐟]: There was a demand for Karasu fics, so I TRIED to deliver. Ngl, I'm slowly starting to see the Karasu appeal. Y'all have opened my eyes.

There was a long winding bridge in your idyllic hometown. People would take late-afternoon strolls through it with their family or pets. The breeze was always gentle and the scenery made it even better.

In the mornings, however, it was usually empty. Occasionally, one or two people would pass by, but they'd be gone as soon as they came. It's not like it's a huge bother either since the bridge was quite long. There was enough room that the awkward smile-and-wave to a random stranger in the guise of being polite was unnecessary.

You took this as an opportunity to hang out at a specific spot on the bridge to clear your head. Waking up early in the morning, you'd often find your feet dragging you to this place like clockwork.

Today was the same as every other day: the birds were chirping, the breeze flew through your hair, and the sun shone down brightly on everything beneath it. You liked this; you liked the never-changing nature of this place and your life.

You embraced familiarity with open arms.

But you should have known that today wasn't going to be the same as the others. You had only one man to blame for that and it was Karasu Tabito.

Karasu decided that it would be funny to startle you. It was deathly silence the whole time you were there so, to hear a voice out of nowhere and a finger jabbing at your shoulder would've induced a heart attack. At least that's what you told him what would've happened if you weren't as strong as you were.

"So dramatic..." he drawls out. He's got a lazy grin on his face, sleep still distinct in his eyes. They were puffy, like he had only woken up a few minutes prior.

You roll your eyes at him which earns a chuckle. He takes the spot beside you, perching his elbows on the concrete railing of the bridge. Through the corner of your eye, you see him admire the surroundings with a small smile.

"So," you start. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"Was out on a walk with Hiori. We were gon' to play football, but..."

You cock your head to look at him. "But? But what?"

"Thought I'd mess with him first and hide for a while."

An exasperated look crossed your face. Between the two of them, you were closer to Hiori. Your parents were friends and it only made sense for the two of you to be as well. In fact, the only reason you knew Karasu was because of him. You could vividly imagine what kind of reaction this little trick would elicit from the blue-haired boy.

"What a nice friend you are."

He took to your sarcasm well—like he would always do. After all, it was only fair after you had developed thick skin due to his relentless teasing (you call it bullying, but he prefers the word teasin'). And unlike, Hiori, you were unsure what kind of relationship you had with the man next to you.

You poke fun at each other like a pair of best friends that have known each other for years, but then you've only been around each other a couple of times. Most of those instances were with Hiori too.

This moment the two of you are sharing on the bridge—it was a rare one to say the least.

The fact that you've seldom spent time with him alone made you a bit nervous. A comfortable silence was a luxury not yet made available to you. The air shifted into an awkward one and neither of you knew what to say to rectify it.

"So what ha-" / "You know-"

Of course, you two had to speak at the same time. But the cherry on top was the way you two turned to look at the other person in unison. And... you two stared at each other for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"No, no, you go first," you offered so kindly—hoping that he'd carry on and forget about the earlier blunder.

He scratched the back of his neck. "I was jus' gonna ask what you've been doin' lately. Barely seen ya."

It was a normal thing to say by all means, but the last part—that's where you were hung up on. Too bad for Karasu, you had a knack for not answering his questions in favor of being obstinate.

"Why? Do you have to see me all the time?"

An all-knowing smirk slowly creeped on his face. "Nah... but that'd be nice."

Nice? What would be so nice about seeing someone who's barely your friend? Karasu didn't seem like the type to engage in exaggerated pleasantries. Pretending to be nice wasn't his thing.

If Karasu were to say anything good, it would've meant that it was true.

The breeze blew a bit more strongly this time around—blowing the stray hairs out of your face. Looking down, you realize that you had been fidgeting with your fingers. As soon as you do see it, you stop. It would be bad if he got weird ideas about you being nervous around him.

You clear your throat. "Shouldn't you go back to Hiori now?"

"Ah... well... ya makin' me leave?"

"No," you retort. "It's just... y'know? He must be looking for you still."

He lets out a soft chuckle which causes you to glance over to him. "Eh, he'll be fine. I wouldn't wan' cha to be alone here anyway."

You insist that you'd be alright. This had been your routine for several mornings now. It's highly unlikely that something bad would happen to you now. But he ignores your reasoning, clicking his tongue in annoyance to get his point across.

But neither of you would be sticking around the bridge for long.

"Karasu! You idiot!"

Both of you turned to look at where the voice was coming from. A figure stood a good distance away from where the two of you were talking. But even without seeing the person, you knew it was your mutual friend, Hiori.

He was running towards you—a pissed off expression could be clearly seen on his otherwise timid face. Of course, Karasu had the biggest grin—as if making his friend angry was a hobby of his.

One step turned into two then, three. Next thing you know, you two were running off.

"Wait... why are we running again?" you ask while trying to keep up with his pace.

His long legs paired with his athletic capability left you in the dust, but he spared you a glance and a reassuring smile. "Why're ya followin' me then?"

"I don't know!"

Laughter erupts from him as he slows down a bit to match your embarrassing pace. He grabs your hand, pulling you along with him.

"Ya better not slow me down, a'ight?"

So you ran off, giggling like maniacs, while your poor friend was left to chase the two of you.

[🐟]: Should childhood friend reader x karasu be a thing now or what.

taglist; @meowkages

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[carolmunson]

we better make a start (older!modern!eddie)

continuation of orange colored skyorange colored sky setlist

inspired by the fact that i fall in love with someone new every time i go to trader joe's and @loveshotzz new older!steve series. tw: outside of an age gap, not much. super fluffy it borders on gross. eddie is in his late 30s/early 40s, reader is late-late 20s/early 30s. music inspo: everywhere - fleetwood mac

Wednesdays at two… You wished you’d met this guy in the fall when you still felt cute getting off the train. It was like being in a sous vide every time you got on and off, walking back out into the hot sun of the city. Would your hair frizz? Was your makeup melting? You were at least smart enough to wear bike shorts under your skirt to avoid the rubbing of your thighs – hopefully he wouldn’t notice. Your feet hurt in your 90s looking wicker sandals but at a passing glance in a store window you figure you don’t look half bad. You look infinitely better than when he first saw you in your ‘errands ugly’ clothes. Maybe he’d even think you look cute. Y’know – if he’s even there. Why’re you meeting up with some random stranger anyway? A sick flare of nervous embarrassment slides through your chest like a snake – this is stupid. He probably forgot about it. Whatever, you wanted to pick up a couple things anyway – it’s totally fine – this isn’t weird at all – and if he’s not there? It doesn’t matter. Who cares? You’ll be fine. You’ll go home and sift through a never ending collection of left swipes and ‘haha not much, just chillin naked. wbu?’ messages on whatever dating app you feel like opening that day. 

A block and an escalator later, you’re in the depths of the shopping center where Trader’s is. You swallow the sick creeping up in your belly — this is so stupid — but it doesn’t take long for you to spot him at a small table near the coffee stand across from the store. His hair sits in a low bun this time, most of his wavy curls spilling over and framing his face. He looks nice, black tee shirt that he might’ve pressed, smarter looking black chinos with a belt he likely got at a vintage store. The silver buckle looks pretty and polished, shining like the rings on his fingers and the rim of the wire glasses he had perched on his nose. He’s typing away on a laptop, black iced coffee melting next to it that he occasionally reaches to sip.

“Um…You’re Eddie, right?” you stammer out as you walk toward the table. He looks up from his laptop, the glow of this screen reflecting back in his glasses. He stops to look you over, straw still in his mouth. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” he grins, a breath of relief puffing out of his nose, “Didn’t actually think you were gonna show up — was sort of a shot in the dark.” He stands up, hand outstretched for yours to shake, “I never caught your name.” 

You take it, his handshake is firm and you can make out some of the tattoos on his fingers and hands. You introduce yourself and he mumbles a ‘nice to meet you’, your name sounds nice coming out of his mouth. “This feels like a business meeting,” you laugh, “Like I’m here for an interview.” He laughs back, “I did just come here from a meeting so I might still be in work mode, sorry.” He takes off his glasses, hanging them off the collar of his shirt. He packs up his bag, a well worn Jansport backpack covered in patches like the vest he had on the last time you saw him. You could tell it was old since there was a patch right at the center that read ‘METALLICA 1997 - Poor Touring Me’. A few other concert patches with ranging dates, 2003, 2009, 1998 littered the black canvas, you smile at it. 

“1997?” you ask, “Metallica concert at what – nine? Your parents were cool with that?” 

He looks down at it and his cheeks go pink, letting a breath puff out of his lips that makes them push out and motorboat, “What year were you born?” “‘92,” you answer, “Why?” 

“Jesus,” he mumbles, rubbing his face with a tight smile, “You’re a young thing, aren’t you?” 

“How old were you in ‘97?” you ask while you both make it through the double doors of the grocery store. He grabs a basket and raises his brows with another big breath. “Seventeen,” he says, “Got this backpack two days before that show actually.” “You still have it?” you ask, trying to do the math in your head of how old he is and how long he’s had it. “Jansport has a lifetime warranty,” Eddie smirks, “I’ve been putting it to good use.” “So why’re you back here,” you ask, following him to the back aisle where the bread is, “You just went food shopping a few days ago.” “I went for my neighbor,” he explains, grabbing two baguettes, “He fractured his foot and hasn’t been able to get up and down the stairs. Been running errands for ‘im in the meantime.” “Oh,” you smile, “That’s nice of you.” “Thanks,” he says, “You like bruschetta?” 

“Why do you ask?” 

“Well,” he starts, “I didn’t really think that Trader Joe’s was an ideal date so I thought I could ask you out here and also get some stuff for it ahead of time.” “Oh,” you repeat, heat creeping up on your cheeks, “What did you have in mind?” 

“Well if you’re free tomorrow afternoon…” he begins, but gets sidetracked. He sneaks behind you to grab some yogurt covered pretzels, “I saw you grab these the other day and got some too, they’re fuckin’ delicious.” 

The spicy suede scent he had last time is replaced with a bright citrusy cedar, it matches his overall disposition. Your mouth waters when you inhale. 

“Anyway, as I was saying,” he starts again, “If you’re free tomorrow afternoon, I’d love to treat you to a little something cute in the park. It’s supposed to be not so swampy.” “Like a picnic?” you ask with a hint of a tease. “Yeah,” he says, a glow of pink perking up on his ears hidden by his hair, “Something like that. If you’re into that – like – if you even want to go on a date with me.” “I showed up here. I feel like that’s answer enough, right?” “Right, right.” The conversation quiets while he tosses a few more things in his basket. “So what was your meeting for?” you ask, watching him look over the cold cuts and cured meats in the open refrigerated section. He was one of those, a ‘stand-and-starer’ instead of just knowing what to get. You try not to grind your teeth. “Oh, new client meeting,” he says, like you know exactly what he’s referencing. 

“For what? If you don’t mind me asking.” He reaches for a package of salami and prosciutto before turning to you, “Do you eat meat?” You nod while he continues to pick up and compare products, “New client for my side gig.” “Which,” he says, tossing his selections in the basket, “If you can believe it, pays a shit ton more than my main gig.” “What’s your big money side gig?” you laugh, following him to the next aisle. “I’m a web developer,” he says, squatting down to look at granola. He hopes you don’t hear the way his knees crack, the way his face winces at the slight tightness in his joints. In Eddie’s defense, he didn’t get a chance to stretch this morning – normally he’s much more limber – he promises. “Like making websites and stuff?” you squat next to him, your own knees cracking. You hope he doesn’t hear it. “Just like that,” he says. He reaches in front of you, grabbing your arm to steady you as you wobble to move out of his way. His grip is gentle but firm, the spots beneath his fingertips buzzing with electricity, “Careful there, sugar.” A smile spreads deep across your face while your eyes make friends with the floor under you, both of you rising back to your feet. His keys jingle on the same carabiner from before, clinking against a silver chain that you’re pretty sure connects to a wallet in his back pocket. He has Nike Killshots on today, the white with a black check instead of the navy. Everyone and their father has the white and navy. “Do you like it?” you ask, holding in a giggle while he grunts getting up. “Writing code and doing graphic design? Sure,” he shrugs, “Got into it really ahead of the game. You were probably still in grade school.” You roll your eyes and he snickers, “But mostly, I make websites for trust fund kids who use daddy’s money to start new businesses. So it’s sort of like my side gig is uh…” “Exploiting the rich?” you grin, he grins too, “Super punk.” He shakes his head while you both walk out into the produce section, “No, no, super metal.”

“What’s your main gig?” “Oh, come on – don’t break my heart,” Eddie’s dramatic flare shines through when he leans up against the flat edge of the pillar holding up the bananas. He holds his free hand to his chest, looking at you with a faux forlorn face that makes his brown eyes shine. Now that you’re really taking stock, you see the thin silver hoop hugging his right nostril – something about it makes your heart thump harder in your chest. “The tattoos don’t give it away, huh?” he asks, passing the basket to the other arm, both biceps flexing against the well tailored t-shirt’s sleeves. 

“A tattoo artist?” you wager a guess with a grimace and half shrug. “No,” he says, the word covered in a soft laugh, “But I’ve been in my artist's shop enough that I might as well get paid to be there.” “I can see that,” you nod, pulling a bunch of bananas from behind him and cradling them in your arm, “So what is it then?” “C’mon, it’s obvious,” he smiles, “I’m a rockstar.” 

“Are you?” you ask, your laugh bubbles out of you and it makes the back of his neck get hot. You’re too pretty to be flirting with him in Trader Joe’s but he can’t stop trying to make you laugh and smile. 

“Well,” he shrugs, kicking off the wall, “Sort of.” “Sort of a rockstar?” your brow lifts while you scan some of the fruits, hand reaching down to a display in front of you, “If you’re doing food food, how about I do dessert?” 

“Peaches, huh?” he asks with a smirk, wrinkling his nose, “A little messy, don’tcha think?” 

“They’re nectarines,” you correct, putting a few in one of the produce bags, “They’re not the same.” 

“Hm,” he shrugs, letting his finger trail over the smooth waxy skin of one of the nectarines in the display, “Whatever you say, Peach.” “Pfft,” you shake your head the same way he did to you, tying off the bag while you try to ignore how the butterflies in your stomach multiply at him calling you Peach. “So if you’re doing dessert that means you’re free tomorrow, then?” he raises his brows, waiting for your answer while you both walk to the checkout line, “You never said if you were.” “Yes I did,” you protest. His tattooed hand reaches out for the nectarines and bunch of bananas you’re holding. You look down at them and then back up at him, Eddie gives you a look, encouraging you to hand them over.

“No, you said you’d go on a date with me – gimme these, I got ‘em–” he beckons you with his hand to take them until you relent, putting them both in his basket, “And trust me, I’m glad you’re down to go on a date with me. But I just wanna make sure you’re around tomorrow so I know to turn on my charm in the morning.” 

“Oh, it’s not on right now?” you flirt. Eddie’s smile gets boyish and shy, tucking a loose salt and pepper collection of strands behind his ear. He’s too blushy to respond, thankful that the Trader Joe’s worker directs you both for the next cashier. He hands you your bananas and nectarines and you plop them into your canvas bag while he finishes up, walking together out of the double doors. 

“Um, could I - uh – damn why am I so nervous to ask you this? What am I, sixteen?” he thinks out loud to himself, furrowing his brow at his own ridiculousness, “Fuck, could I um – get your number?” 

“You already asked me on a date and you’re nervous to get my number?” you tease, “For real?” 

“Long story, I’ll tell you one day,” he says, handing you his phone. He tucks in his lips while you take it, watching eagerly while you put in your information. You save it under ‘Peach 🍑’ with your real name in the second line. 

“Oh what, did it happen all the way back in the 70s or something? Hard to remember?” Your mean girl tone of voice has a hold on him that thrums in his chest. 

“So you’re one of those girls, huh?” he releases his lips, tip of his tongue pressing against one of his canines, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He takes his phone back when you offer it to him, taking a quick second to shoot you a text that just says ‘eddie m.’ Your phone dings in your hand, going to save his number while he watches. 

“M’gonna put it in as ‘Sort of Rockstar’,” you giggle to yourself. “Please don’t.” “Too late.” 

You drop your phone into your canvas bag, giving him a final once over. He does the same and his stare almost makes you nervous with the way his brown eyes soften when they find your face. Not one for awkward silence you reach your hand out like he did when you met outside of the store. “Pleasure doing business with you, Eddie,” you say, a lightness to your voice that has him swooning. His hand takes yours, big and slightly rough, calloused fingertips slightly brushing your wrist. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he says, giving you a firm shake, “Same time tomorrow? At the park?” 

“Sounds good.” 

“I’ll um, I’ll text you. I’ll drop a pin,” he offers. 

You’re both quiet for a moment, anxious with anticipation for tomorrow – for a real date. You say your goodbyes, your ‘see you tomorrows’. Only to both start walking the same direction towards Target. 

“Oh,” you laugh, “Are you going to Target, too?” 

He laughs back, slightly hoarse and rough, smokey sounding, “I am. Should I wait a little? Don’t wanna cramp your style or anything. I know we just said goodbye.” 

“No, no, we can go together,” you smile, big and bright, “We can both decide on what I’m making for dessert.” 

prev | next

[phenomenalgirl9]

Jungkook x Reader: Lost You

Summary: You've always been in love with him, but today you were done waiting for him, to see you, to understand you. You were finally done with Jeon Jungkook.

Wc: 1.9k

A/n: I tried something new idk how it is. I'm almost nervous to post it. But who cares 😶‍🌫️. Anyway Chan and Jimin were spotted in a restaurant in comfy clothes and I'm digging that!

⚠️: Its kinda sad (?!), Jungkook is a douche bag, a little suggestive.

_____________________________________

You kept calling him but no use, his phone was switched off. He should have been here 3 hours ago. You hoped, he was in a business meeting as he told you when you asked him to come home by 6 and he said he'd be home by 7 as he had a meeting. 

You still remember the first day you met him, back when you were both 10 in one of your dad's fancy parties. "His father is important to the company, they are new in town, go play with him and be friends. Ok, Y/n?" Your mother had told you with a sweet smile on her face as you nodded. And the rest was history. Considering your circle mostly considered if the children of the other directors and business partners he fit in with all of you well. 

15 more minutes passed, and you could only worry more, you walked to the kitchen to get some water and placed your phone and whatever you had in your hand on the counter and get a glass of water, mid way of drinking it you heard the sound of your door open and close and you rushed to see. 

"Jungkook?" You called out his name and he looked at you wide eyes like a doe caught in headlights, an expression floated on his face which looked like remembrance. 

"You were with her weren't you?" The question flew from your mouth before you could filter it and you found that look filled with guilt on his face. You scoffed and folded your hands and started to walk off to your shared room when he said. 

"Why are you like this? She needed me okay!" Jungkook said. "What about me Jungkook? I, your girlfriend, needed you! And you went off with Minji" you said in frustration. "Don't say as if I was sleeping with her. She's still my good friend" he argued and you walked to the kitchen to grab your belongings and stepped inside the room he and you shared. 

You slid down to the ground as you closed the door. You still remember that day she walked into your life, Seo Minji. 

It was when you were 15. 

"Hey, isn't that the new kid?" Mingyu asked and you nodded. "Aw she's sitting alone" Jihyo said frowning, "Y/n go invite her here" Chan said, elbowing you. "Why me?" You asked, not like you were opposed to this aspect but you were simply curious. "You're good at this. I'm saying from experience" Jungkook said flashing his bunny smile, the smile that made your heart skip a beat, you would have done anything for that smile.

And you did, you invited Minji to your table, soon you found out her father actually worked for your father. "I feel strange sitting among you guys,I don't think I fit in" she said shyly. "Bullshit, we're all people" you daid ensuring her, "Yeah, there's nothing much different between you and us, welcome to our group" Jungkook said, flashing that sane smile at here.

It was truly where it all had started, Minji trying to get the boys in her clutches. She thought you and Jihyo didn't notice her accidental touches or her kawai and weak acts in front of them. While Chan could see through them, Mingyu and Jungkook never did. 

"Why didn't you two speak up when we were trying to get Mr Kim to invite Minji to the party?" Jungkook asked and Mingyu shook his head. You tightened your fist as Chan held it to ease you up. "She'd feel out of place," Jihyo tried to reason. The truth is you didn't want her to engage further with your circle. She already got Jungkook and Migyu to get her everything she might want. You watched as she used those two as her personal atm, a bat of her eyelashes and she had the 

"Gucci bag she wanted but couldn't get as she had to buy her grandmother's medicine" 

"Prada shoes cause she was sad her (nonexistent) fish died" 

You three tried to show them the real deal, but they refused as Minji never asked, they were willing to give her because she "deserved to be happy too". 

You smiled at yourself as you heard a knock on the door. "Babe, seriously why are you angry? I swear nothing happened, we just talked, Mingyu has been ignoring Minji and she felt alone, so she just needed someone to talk to and have a glass of wine with" He said. This always happened, One call and Jungkook would go running to her. 

You remember when you were 18, and your father and Jungkook's father declared that you and Jungkook would be engaged. You couldn't help your smile, you would be wed to your best friend to the person you fell for all those years ago. You were happy that now you could help him see reason, help him come out of Minji's clutches. But one look at his face, and you felt all your feelings drain away, his face was filled with disdain and he walked away. He didn't even consider that you could be the one for him for once. Did you expect something else? Did you expect he'll come happily to you and agree to this, you idiot. 

But, how could you? You lived to look into his doe eyes that shone bright, not for you, for Minji. You lived for that toothy smile that went brighter when Minji was there. No, they never were in a relationship, rather she never came into a relationship with either Jungkook or Mingyu. 

You still remember that day when you were 21, you had just graduated and were at your father's (soon to be yours) office working on some designs about a deal with your assitant Jimin and your now business associates Bangchan and Jungkook. No you two still spoke, you all were still friends and he acted like that evening never occured like he never broke your heart and crushed it into pieces. You remember Mingyu rushing into your cabin and hugging you tightly cheering "She said yes! She said yes! Minji said yes". You were stunned for a moment, you all were. "To what?" Chan managed to ask the man who was happy beyond bounds. "To marry me!" He said, "I'll go home, I just came to tell as I knew most of you are here, I've texted Jihyo, now I gotta tell my parents!" He said with his bright smile. "Congratulations" Jimin said to the departing man, who screamed a "thank you". All of your eyes shifted to Jungkook, his face motionless, teeth gritted, his fist so tight that his knuckles were turning white, a single tear left his eye. You shouldn't but you felt like your heart ached seeing him and you realised how down bad you were still for Jeon Jungkook. "Can you guys complete the rest without me? I'll just sign it" he asked. "Yeah, sure" you said and he walked away. The next day Jihyo had called you and told you, "of course she's marrying Mingyu, he's the heir, the elder child, Jungkook is second to his brother. How is he holding up?" You gave the exact words that you told Chan earlier that day "i don't know". The truth being, he never even read your texts, you didn't have the courage to meet him. 

You sighed at the banging sound from across the door. "If you need something tell me, if not please go to the other room". "Can you open the door once Y/n please. Please" he pleaded "Go away Jungkook please" you said, you wished you had said that to him that day two years ago. 3 days after Mingyu's proposal to Minji, you found Jungkook at your door, "can I come in" he had asked you in a broken voice. Your heart broke with his, you couldn't bear to see him like that. He came in to hug you, and you patted your head. 

"She loves him, I have to accept that. I don't know how you do it Y/n" he said, and your eyes went wide, tears stung them. "How do you even bear to look at my face much less comfort me after all I've done. How do you look beyond your feelings?" He asked. "Since when have you known?" You asked. "Since 3 days ago, when I saw the hurt in your eyes and realised how you have always been there." He said holding onto your cheek. Your brain told you to pull away, to push him away, to throw him out of the room, when his face inched closer to yours. You knew what he's doing, yet you didn't pay heed to the voice in your head. You focused on the doe eyes that looked into yours deep. Those arms that slid around your waist and pulled you close. You chose to focus on those lips that were attached to yours. You had thought, maybe this time he chose you, maybe this is it for you two. And it was, for the next few months. 

Jungkook and you walked hand in hand and stood beside Jimin and Chan along with Jihyo, on Mingyu and Minji's wedding day. Gyuji marriage was the talk of the town and things were finally looking up. Until 3 months into the wedding and you all were in the same party and seemingly Jungkook and Minji caught up, "you are still my best friend" Minji had told him, you tried your best not to drain a flute of wine on her. You didn't really mind much, ge did come back to you. He did love you. Things weren't so bad a few missed dates were seen and apologized and managed up until he missed your 2nd anniversary date and then your birthday. Once because Minji was sick and Mingyu was out of town and other because he mixed up the date after he had drunk a lot the day before with Minji and got absorbed at work.

But today was your last straw, you were done waiting around for him. You were done waiting for him to see you beneath Minji's shadow. You were done crying for him. You were done with him. So you texted Chan and Jimin, asking if their spare room was empty and if you could crash for sometime. Hence, you packed a small bag, took your phone and wallet and left the apartment. "Y/n! Y/n no. Please don't leave me over this. I'll be more attentive and careful. Y/n please." He pleaded. You might have stopped if this would have been any other day, but not today. Cause today you were done with Jeon Jungkook and the bullshit that comes with him.

_____________________________________

You don't stop, he lost you. He really lost you. He walks into the room you used to share. He found a book on the floor near the bed and a white and blue strip inside it. Jungkook was familiar with this strip or well, device, his eyes shifted to the words that were written on the little screen, 'positive'. "FUCK FUCK FUCK" Jungkook cursed as he felt like tearing off his hair, he did this to himself. 

Part 2: I loved you so bad

Masterlist

Taglist: @bbl32 @back2bluesidex (for a sec I couldn't find you 🤣) @cherryblossom-2004

[starryeyedjanai]

this post has me thinking about steve and eddie falling in love with each other through writing fanfic in the 80s

because in the eighties before you could publish stuff online, you had communities that would send each other hand written fic, right?

steve and eddie both end up writing fic for spock/kirk

steve gets into it because he and claudia watch star trek together and they've been watching it for years when she shows him some cute fluffy fic a friend of hers wrote and he finds that he really likes it. maybe he starts off not knowing that he likes guys, but through fic he realizes that hey, he's kind of felt things about guys before that's similar to the stuff he's reading

and he gets enmeshed in this somewhat local community of fic writers and they all mail each other fic and give each other feedback and write on post it notes how much they loved reading it before passing it along to the next person

and steve has a particular writer that he's absolutely enamored with

the way they write, the tales they weave, it's all so good. they're funny and some of the spicy stuff they write is good and he's always so excited whenever he opens a letter and it's their fic. and he thinks he's like falling for some housewife from Indianapolis and he's a little embarrassed about it because they only sign their name as EM so he has no idea who it is. (he's also embarrassed because some of the spicy stuff claudia writes is also good, but he tries not to think about how his friend's mom knows so much nsfw stuff about what two guys can get up to)

but anyway, he keeps writing long detailed commentary about EM's fics and sending it along to the next person meanwhile when Eddie gets his fics back, he's like lovestruck at steve's comments on his fics because he really gets it - really gets what eddie was going for. he understands the yearning eddie's trying to capture and he offers little meta-analyses about eddie's fics and some of the episodes and eddie is also like damn i'm really falling for someone's wife, aren't i?

anyway steve doesn't write his own fic yet because he doesn't have the confidence in his writing ability but EM encourages him so he eventually does write fic and EM ends up being his biggest cheerleader and offers him help in areas where he thinks he struggles so they start mailing stuff back and forth to each other before it goes out to the larger group

and they start sharing stuff about their real lives and they both come to realize that the person they're talking to isn't a woman and isn't married like most of the women in the community are

and then they're collaborating on fics together and writing some of the best stuff eddie's ever written and he's falling in love and steve is too

maybe they eventually share their identities over letters, and maybe there's a meetup one day and their eyes lock as soon as they see each other and steve is nervous. he's nervous because he's kind of idolized EM for so long and he doesn't want to say the wrong thing. because writing him has been easy, he has time to think about what he wants to say and how he wants to say it. but talking in person is much more on the spot thinking which he's never been good at

but he meets him and eddie seems just as nervous, not nearly as eloquent with his words in person as he is in the fanfiction steve's been reading for close to a year now. but steve thinks he's charming and he's just as enamored in person as he was over the letters they've been sending each other.

on the ride home, claudia is chattering away about how nice everyone is and how nervous she was to meet them, but they're all so sweet in person. and steve is half-listening, clutching the slip of paper eddie gave him with his number on it