#can’t do that if you’re talking like this

[pucksandpower]

Little Star

Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Summary: you’ve grown used to being overshadowed by your older brother, merely a distant star that seems dull in comparison to the sun of Maranello … and then Max happens

Based on this request

The sun dips low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the paddock of the Autodromo Nazionale Monza. The air still buzzes with excitement from the day’s race, but behind the Ferrari hospitality unit, a different energy permeates the air.

You lean against the cool metal wall, sliding down until you’re sitting on the concrete, knees pulled to your chest. Tears stream silently down your face as you struggle to catch your breath between sobs. The sounds of celebration echo in the distance, a stark contrast to your solitude.

Footsteps approach, and you hastily wipe at your eyes, hoping to erase any evidence of your breakdown. A familiar figure rounds the corner, stopping short when he spots you.

“Hey,” Max Verstappen says, his brow furrowing with concern. “Are you alright?”

You force a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you insist, your voice wavering slightly. “Just ... needed some air.”

Max doesn’t buy it for a second. He crouches down beside you, his blue eyes searching your face. “You don’t look fine,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lip, debating whether to confide in him. After a moment, you sigh. “It’s stupid,” you mumble.

“If it’s making you cry, it’s not stupid,” Max counters. He settles down next to you, his shoulder brushing yours. “Come on, talk to me.”

You take a shaky breath. “It’s my birthday,” you admit quietly.

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Today? Why aren’t you celebrating?”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Because everyone forgot,” you explain, fresh tears welling up. “Charles won the race, and ... I’m happy for him, I really am. But it’s like I don’t even exist when he’s around, you know?”

Max nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. “That must be really tough,” he says softly.

You nod, sniffling. “I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, but today ... it just hit me harder, I guess. Even my mom forgot.”

“That’s not okay,” Max says firmly. “Your birthday should be special, no matter what else is happening.”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on your jeans. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“No, it’s not fine,” Max insists. He stands up suddenly, determination etched on his face. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Before you can protest, he’s gone, jogging away towards the paddock. You’re left alone again, wondering what he’s up to.

True to his word, Max returns a few minutes later, slightly out of breath and holding something behind his back. “Close your eyes,” he instructs with a grin.

Curious, you comply. There’s a rustling sound, and then Max’s voice rings out, clear and slightly off-key: “Happy birthday to you ...”

Your eyes fly open in surprise. Max stands before you, holding a small cupcake with a single candle stuck in the frosting. His face is illuminated by the flickering flame as he continues to sing.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Y/N, happy birthday to you!”

Emotion wells up in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. “Max,” you whisper, overwhelmed. “You didn’t have to do this.”

He crouches down, carefully balancing the cupcake. “Of course I did,” he says softly. “Everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday. Now make a wish and blow out your candle.”

You close your eyes, thinking for a moment before leaning forward to extinguish the tiny flame. When you open them again, Max is beaming at you.

“What did you wish for?” He asks, settling back down beside you and offering you the cupcake.

You shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

Max laughs, nudging your shoulder playfully. “Fair enough. So, twenty-two, huh? How does it feel to be so old?”

You roll your eyes, but can’t help chuckling. “Says the guy who’s practically ancient at twenty-six.”

“Hey!” Max protests, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know I’m in my prime.”

The banter feels natural, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time all day. You take a bite of the cupcake, savoring the sweetness. “This is really good,” you mumble around a mouthful of frosting. “Where did you even find it?”

Max grins mischievously. “I have my sources. Can’t reveal all my secrets, can I?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Thank you, Max. Really. This ... it means a lot.”

His expression softens. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry the rest of your family forgot. That’s not fair to you.”

You sigh, your momentary happiness fading slightly. “It’s not their fault. Charles had a big win today, and-”

“Stop,” Max interrupts gently. “You don’t have to make excuses for them. Your feelings are valid.”

You blink, surprised by his directness. “I ... I guess I’m just used to it,” you admit. “It’s always been about Charles. Even before he got into F1, he was the golden child. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes ...”

“Sometimes you want to be seen too,” Max finishes for you. You nod, grateful that he understands.

“Exactly. And it’s not just Charles. Arthur’s always been following in his footsteps, and Lorenzo ... well, he’s the oldest. I’m just ... there.”

Max frowns. “That’s not true. You’re your own person, with your own talents and dreams. Have you talked to them about how you feel?”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to make them feel bad. Especially Charles. He works so hard, and he deserves his success.”

“His success doesn’t diminish your worth,” Max says firmly. “You deserve to be celebrated too.”

Tears prick at your eyes again, but for a different reason this time. “Thank you,” you whisper. “I don’t think anyone’s ever put it quite like that before.”

Max smiles softly. “Well, it’s true. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re pretty amazing.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks. “You barely know me,” you point out.

“I know enough,” Max counters. “I know you’re kind enough to put your family’s happiness before your own. I know you’re strong enough to handle being overlooked without becoming bitter. And I know you’ve got a great taste in cupcakes.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “Well, when you put it like that ...”

Max grins, clearly pleased to have made you smile. “So, birthday girl, what do you want to do now? The night is young, and I happen to know where they keep the good champagne around here.”

You hesitate, glancing towards the paddock where you can still hear the sounds of celebration. “I don’t know ... I should probably go find my family.”

Max raises an eyebrow. “On your birthday? Come on, live a little. They can wait.”

A spark of rebellion ignites in your chest. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it.”

Max jumps to his feet, offering you his hand. “That’s the spirit! First stop, champagne. Then, who knows? Maybe we’ll steal a golf cart and go joyriding around the track.”

You take his hand, allowing him to pull you up. “Is that even allowed?”

Max’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “Probably not. But it’s your birthday, so I think we can bend the rules a little.”

As you follow Max towards the paddock, a warmth spreads through your chest that has nothing to do with the lingering summer heat. For the first time in years, you feel seen. Appreciated. Special.

“Hey, Max?” You say, causing him to pause and look back at you.

“Yeah?”

You smile, genuine and bright. “Thank you. For everything.”

Max’s expression softens. “Anytime,” he says softly. “Now come on, birthday girl. Let’s make this a night to remember.”

As you walk side by side into the fading light, you can’t help but feel that this birthday might just be the start of something new. Something exciting. Something uniquely yours.

And for once, you’re not thinking about Charles, or Arthur, or anyone else. You’re just thinking about you, and the possibilities that stretch out before you like an open road.

Happy birthday indeed.

***

The Ferrari hospitality suite thrums with energy, laughter and music spilling out into the warm Italian night. Charles Leclerc stands at the center of it all, a wide grin plastered across his face as he basks in the glow of his hard-fought victory. Champagne flows freely, and the air is thick with the scent of celebration.

“To Charles!” Someone shouts, raising a glass. The room erupts in cheers, and Charles feels a swell of pride in his chest.

“Speech! Speech!” The crowd chants, and Charles laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he concedes, clearing his throat. “I just want to say thank you to everyone here. This win ... it’s not just mine. It’s ours. The team, the mechanics, the engineers, the strategists ... we did this together.”

More cheers erupt, and Charles feels a hand clap him on the back. He turns to see his teammate grinning broadly.

“Well said, amigo,” Carlos says, slinging an arm around Charles’ shoulders. “You drove like a champion today.”

Charles beams, the praise from his teammate adding to the euphoria of the moment. “Thanks, Carlos. Couldn’t have done it without you pushing me.”

Carlos laughs, taking a swig of his drink. “Always happy to provide motivation. Oh, hey, before I forget — can you pass on my birthday wishes to Y/N? I meant to find her earlier, but things got a bit crazy.”

The words hit Charles like a bucket of ice water. His smile freezes, his eyes widening in horror. “W-what?” He stammers, hoping he’s misheard.

Carlos frowns, noticing the sudden change in Charles’ demeanor. “Your sister? It’s her birthday today, right? Her 22nd?”

Charles feels the room spin around him. How could he have forgotten? His little sister’s birthday, on the same day as his big win. The realization crashes over him in waves of guilt and shame.

“Charles?” Carlos prompts, concern evident in his voice. “You okay, mate?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of shock. “I ... I forgot,” he whispers, more to himself than to Carlos. “How could I forget?”

Carlos’ eyes widen in understanding. “Oh, shit,” he mutters. “You didn’t remember?”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, panic rising in his chest. “I was so focused on the race, and then the win ... God, I’m such an idiot.”

He scans the room frantically, hoping against hope that he’ll spot you among the partygoers. But of course, you’re not there. Why would you be, when your own family forgot your birthday?

“I need to find her,” Charles says, already moving towards the exit. “I need to apologize.”

Carlos nods, squeezing Charles’ shoulder supportively. “Go. I’ll cover for you here if anyone asks.”

Charles barely hears him, his mind racing as he pushes through the crowd. He bursts out of the hospitality suite, the cool night air a stark contrast to the stuffy interior.

“Y/N!” He calls out, his voice echoing in the near-empty paddock. But there’s no response.

Panic rising, Charles pulls out his phone, fumbling with the screen as he opens his contacts. He hits your name, holding the phone to his ear as it rings.

Once. Twice. Three times. Then, your voicemail.

“Hey, this is Y/N. Leave a message!”

Charles swears under his breath, ending the call. He tries again, and again, but each time it goes straight to voicemail.

“Come on, come on,” he mutters, pacing back and forth. Where could you be? Who would you have gone to when your family let you down?

A thought strikes him, and he quickly dials another number.

“Hello?” Arthur’s sleepy voice answers.

“Arthur!” Charles practically shouts. “Is Y/N with you?”

There’s a pause, then confusion in Arthur’s tone. “No? Why would she be? Aren’t you guys celebrating?”

Charles feels his heart sink even further. “Arthur, it’s her birthday. We forgot.”

“Shit,” Arthur breathes. “How did we ... God, we’re terrible brothers.”

“I know, I know,” Charles says, the guilt eating away at him. “I’m trying to find her now. Can you call Maman and Lorenzo, see if they’ve heard from her?”

“Yeah, of course,” Arthur agrees quickly. “I’ll call you back if I hear anything.”

Charles ends the call, his mind whirling. Where else could you be? He tries to think back to earlier in the day, wondering if he’d seen you at all after the race. But everything is a blur of champagne and celebration, and he realizes with a sickening jolt that he can’t remember the last time he actually spoke to you.

He’s about to start knocking on motorhome doors when another idea strikes him. Quickly, he opens the Life360 app on his phone. The family had started using it a few years back, mainly to keep track of each other during race weekends.

Charles waits impatiently for the app to load, praying that it will show your location. But when the map finally appears, his heart sinks. Your icon is greyed out, with a message underneath: “Location permissions turned off.”

“No, no, no,” Charles mutters, refreshing the app desperately. But the result is the same. You’ve deliberately turned off your location tracking.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut. You didn’t just disappear — you chose to be unfindable. And it’s all his fault.

Charles slumps against the nearest wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the ground. He puts his head in his hands, overwhelmed by the magnitude of his mistake.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispers into the night. “I’m so, so sorry.”

As he sits there, memories flood his mind. Your proud smile when he won his first karting race. The way you’d curl up next to him during thunderstorms, seeking comfort. Your unwavering support through every step of his career, even when it meant less attention for you.

And how had he repaid that loyalty? By forgetting the one day that was supposed to be about you.

Charles’ phone buzzes, and he snatches it up eagerly. But it’s just a text from his mother:

Haven’t heard from Y/N. Is everything okay?

He stares at the message, unsure how to respond. How can he explain that he’s lost his little sister on her birthday?

Another text comes through, this time from Lorenzo:

No luck here either. What’s going on?

Charles takes a deep breath, steeling himself. He has to tell them the truth, no matter how much it hurts.

He creates a group chat with his mom, Lorenzo, and Arthur, his fingers shaking slightly as he types:

We forgot Y/N’s birthday. All of us. She’s not answering her phone and her location is turned off. I can’t find her anywhere.

The responses come in rapid succession:

Maman: Oh no. How could we forget?

Lorenzo: Shit. Have you checked with her friends?

Arthur: I’m on my way to the track now. We’ll find her.

Charles feels a mix of relief and shame. At least now everyone knows, and they can all work together to make things right. But the fact remains that they let you down in the first place.

He’s about to reply when he spots a familiar figure walking across the paddock. Max Verstappen, looking slightly disheveled and ... was that a touch of glitter on his cheek?

Without thinking, Charles jumps to his feet and runs over to his rival.

“Max!” He calls out, slightly out of breath. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Max turns, surprise evident on his face. Then, something else flickers in his eyes. Anger? Disappointment? It’s gone too quickly for Charles to be sure.

“Why?” Max asks, his tone cooler than usual. “Suddenly remembered she exists?”

The words sting, but Charles knows he deserves them. ��Please, Max. I know I messed up. We all did. But I need to find her, to apologize.”

Max studies him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he sighs. “She’s safe. That’s all you need to know right now.”

Relief washes over Charles, quickly followed by confusion. “You’ve seen her? Where is she?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Max says firmly. “She needed space, and after what happened, I don’t blame her.”

Charles feels a flare of frustration. “She’s my sister. I have a right to know where she is.”

“No,” Max counters, his blue eyes flashing. “You had a responsibility to remember her birthday. You didn’t. So now, you don’t get to demand anything.”

The words hit Charles like a slap. He opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again. Max is right, as much as it pains him to admit it.

“Is she ... is she okay?” Charles asks quietly, all fight leaving him.

Max’s expression softens slightly. “She will be. Eventually. But Charles, you really hurt her. All of you did.”

Charles nods, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. “I know. God, I know. I just want to make it right.”

“Then give her time,” Max advises. “And when she’s ready to talk, really listen to her. Don’t make excuses. Don’t try to justify it. Just listen.”

Charles nods again, feeling utterly defeated. “Will you ... will you tell her I’m sorry? That we’re all sorry?”

Max hesitates, then nods. “I will. But Charles? You need to do better. She deserves better.”

With that, Max turns and walks away, leaving Charles alone with his thoughts and regrets.

Charles pulls out his phone again, looking at the group chat with his family. He types out a message, his heart heavy:

Y/N is safe. A friend is looking out for her. We need to give her space, but when she’s ready to talk, we all need to be there. Really be there. We’ve got a lot to make up for.

As he hits send, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll do better. He’ll be the brother you deserve. And somehow, someway, he’ll make this right.

But for now, all he can do is wait, and hope that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive them all.

***

The city lights twinkle below as Max leads you into his penthouse suite, the door clicking shut behind you. The space is modern and sleek, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of Milan’s skyline.

“Make yourself at home,” Max says, gesturing around the room. “Are you hungry? I can order some room service if you want.”

You shake your head, still feeling slightly overwhelmed by the events of the day. “No, thanks. I’m okay.”

Max nods, studying your face with concern. “You sure? It’s been a long day.”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “Yeah, you could say that again.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Max clears his throat. “So, um, you can take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”

“Oh, no,” you protest immediately. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed. I’ll take the couch.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Absolutely not. It’s your birthday. You get the bed.”

You bite your lip, an idea forming. “We could ... share? I mean, if that’s okay with you. The bed looks plenty big enough.”

Max’s eyes widen slightly, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure,” you say, surprising yourself with your boldness. “Unless it makes you uncomfortable?”

“No, no,” Max says quickly. “I’m fine with it if you are.”

You nod, and another silence falls. Max runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly unsure of himself.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” he suggests. “Or we could just talk, if you prefer.”

“Talking sounds nice,” you admit. “I’m not really in the mood for a movie.”

Max nods, gesturing towards the bed. “Shall we?”

You both settle onto the massive king-size bed, sitting cross-legged and facing each other. It’s oddly intimate, and you feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach.

“So,” Max begins, his blue eyes fixed on you. “Tell me something about yourself that isn’t related to racing or your family.”

You pause, caught off guard by the question. It’s been so long since someone asked about you, just you.

“Well,” you start hesitantly, “I’m actually studying to become an astrophysicist.”

Max’s eyebrows shoot up. “Seriously? That’s incredible! Why astrophysics?”

The enthusiasm in his voice makes you smile. “I’ve always been fascinated by space, you know? The idea that there’s so much out there we don’t understand ... it’s exciting.”

“That’s amazing,” Max says, genuinely impressed. “What kind of stuff are you studying right now?”

You laugh softly. “Are you sure you want to know? I might bore you with all the technical details.”

Max leans forward, his expression earnest. “Try me. I want to hear all about it.”

Encouraged by his interest, you begin to explain your current research project. As you talk, your hands move animatedly, your eyes lighting up with passion. Max listens intently, asking questions and showing genuine curiosity.

“... and that’s why understanding dark matter is so crucial,” you finish, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, I kind of went off on a tangent there.”

Max shakes his head, smiling warmly. “Don’t apologize. It’s fascinating. I had no idea you were into all this. Why haven’t I heard about it before?”

Your smile falters slightly. “Oh, well ... it doesn’t really come up much. Everyone’s usually more interested in talking about racing.”

Max frowns. “But this is incredible. You’re studying to unravel the mysteries of the universe. That’s way cooler than driving in circles.”

You laugh, but there’s a hint of sadness in it. “Try telling that to my family. I think they see it as more of a hobby than a career path.”

“What?” Max looks genuinely shocked. “How can they not be incredibly proud? This is huge!”

You shrug, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “I guess it’s just not as exciting as F1? It’s okay, though. I’m used to it.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No, it’s not okay. Y/N, you’re brilliant. Your family should be shouting it from the rooftops.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them back hastily. “Thanks, Max. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over yours. “I mean it. And for what it’s worth, I think what you’re doing is incredible.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s a warmth there, an understanding that makes your heart skip a beat. Without really thinking about it, you shift closer to him.

Max seems to take this as an invitation, because he moves closer too. Soon, you’re sitting side by side, your shoulders touching.

“So,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “What about you? Any secret passions outside of racing?”

Max chuckles. “Nothing as impressive as astrophysics, I’m afraid. But I do enjoy sim racing in my spare time.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t that just more racing?”

“Hey, it’s completely different,” Max protests with a grin. “In sim racing, I can drive any car on any track. Even ones that don’t exist in real life.”

“Okay, okay,” you concede, laughing. “Tell me more about it.”

As Max launches into an explanation of his favorite sim racing setups, you find yourself relaxing more and more. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter and playful debates.

Without really noticing, you both shift positions throughout the night. Max leans back against the headboard, and you mirror him. Your shoulders are pressed together, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“... and that’s why I think pineapple absolutely belongs on pizza,” Max finishes, looking at you expectantly.

You shake your head, grinning. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from a world champion. Your taste buds clearly can’t be trusted.”

“Oh, come on,” Max laughs, nudging your shoulder with his. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”

“I have tried it,” you insist. “It’s an abomination.”

Max clutches his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, Y/N. And here I thought we were becoming friends.”

The word ‘friends’ sends an odd pang through your chest. Is that what this is? It feels like more, somehow.

As if reading your thoughts, Max’s expression softens. He reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture is so gentle, so intimate, that it takes your breath away.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

You swallow hard, your heart racing. “Me too,” you whisper.

There’s a moment of charged silence, and then Max is leaning in. You meet him halfway, your lips meeting in a soft, tentative kiss.

It’s brief, just a fleeting press of lips, but it sends sparks shooting through your entire body. When you pull back, Max is looking at you with a mixture of wonder and uncertainty.

“Was that okay?” He asks, his voice husky.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Instead, you lean in again, capturing his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more assured. Max’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, and you melt into his touch.

When you finally break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing at his lips.

“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he admits.

You laugh softly. “Even when I was insulting your pizza preferences?”

“Especially then,” Max grins. “You’re cute when you’re indignant.”

You swat at his arm playfully, but you can’t keep the smile off your face. For the first time all day, you feel truly happy.

As the night wears on, you and Max continue to talk, trading stories and stealing kisses. Gradually, your positions shift again. Max lies down, and you curl up against his side, your head resting on his chest. His arm wraps around you, holding you close.

“Y/N?” Max says softly, his fingers tracing patterns on your arm.

“Hmm?” you mumble, feeling drowsy and content.

“Happy birthday,” he says. “I know it didn’t start out great, but I hope it got better.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, a warm smile spreading across your face. “It did,” you assure him. “Thanks to you.”

Max kisses your forehead gently. “Get some sleep,” he murmurs. “We can figure everything else out in the morning.”

As you drift off to sleep, wrapped in Max’s arms, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this birthday wasn’t so bad after all. In fact, it might just be the start of something wonderful.

***

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you feel a strong arm wrapped around your waist. For a moment, confusion sets in before the events of the previous night come rushing back.

You’re in Max Verstappen’s bed. And Max Verstappen is currently spooning you.

A smile tugs at your lips as you nestle back into his warmth, not quite ready to face the day. But fate, it seems, has other plans.

A sharp knock at the door jolts both of you awake. Max groans, burying his face in your hair.

“Room service?” You mumble, still half-asleep.

Max shakes his head, his voice gravelly with sleep. “Didn’t order any.”

The knock comes again, more insistent this time. With a sigh, Max untangles himself from you and slides out of bed.

“I’ll get it,” he says, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “You stay here.”

You nod, pulling the covers up to your chin and watching as Max pads to the door in his t-shirt and sweatpants. He opens it a crack, peering out.

“Can I help you?” He asks, confusion evident in his tone.

There’s a muffled response, and then Max is stepping back, opening the door wider. A hotel staff member enters, carrying an enormous bouquet of red roses.

“Delivery for Y/N Leclerc,” the staff member announces, looking around the room.

You sit up in bed, eyes wide. “That’s ... that’s me.”

The staff member nods, moving to set the bouquet on a nearby table. “Sign here, please,” he says, holding out a clipboard.

Still bewildered, you climb out of bed and make your way over, scrawling your signature on the form. The staff member thanks you and exits, leaving you and Max staring at the ostentatious display of flowers.

“Well,” Max says after a moment, “I guess your brother remembered after all.”

You let out a rueful laugh, shaking your head. “Yeah, I guess he did.”

Max frowns, noting the lack of enthusiasm in your voice. “Aren’t you happy about it?”

You sigh, reaching out to touch one of the velvety petals. “It’s just ... I’ve told Charles a hundred times that I don’t like roses. They’re not my favorite flower. But every time he needs to apologize or wants to do something nice, it’s always roses.”

“Oh,” Max says softly, understanding dawning on his face. “So it’s less about you and more about what he thinks you should like.”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat. “Exactly. It’s like he doesn’t really listen, you know? He just does what he thinks is right without considering what I actually want.”

Max moves closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you against his side. “That must be frustrating,” he says gently.

You lean into him, grateful for the support. “It is. And I know I should be grateful. It’s a beautiful bouquet, and he’s trying. But ...”

“But it’s not what you want,” Max finishes for you. “And that matters.”

You look up at him, surprised by how well he understands. “Yeah, exactly.”

Max turns to face you fully, his blue eyes serious. “Y/N, listen to me. It’s okay to be upset about this. It’s okay to want your family to actually listen to you and consider your feelings.”

You bite your lip, tears threatening to spill over. “But they’re trying now. Shouldn’t I just forgive them and move on?”

Max shakes his head firmly. “No. You don’t have to forgive them right away just because they made a grand gesture. It’s okay to make them work for your forgiveness.”

“Really?” You ask, your voice small.

“Really,” Max assures you. “They hurt you, Y/N. They forgot your birthday and made you feel invisible. One bouquet of flowers — flowers you don’t even like — doesn’t erase that.”

You nod slowly, processing his words. “So what do I do?”

Max runs a hand through his hair, thinking. “Well, what do you want to do? How do you feel?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not ready to see them yet. I know I’ll have to face them eventually, but right now ... I just can’t.”

“Then don’t,” Max says simply. “Take the time you need. They can wait.”

A weight lifts off your shoulders at his words. “You don’t think that’s selfish?”

Max cups your face in his hands, his gaze intense. “It’s not selfish to prioritize your own feelings and well-being. You matter, Y/N. Your feelings matter.”

Tears spill over then, and Max pulls you into a tight embrace. You bury your face in his chest, letting out all the hurt and frustration you’ve been holding in.

“Shh,” Max soothes, rubbing your back. “It’s okay. Let it out.”

After a few minutes, your sobs subside. You pull back slightly, wiping at your eyes. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I got your shirt all wet.”

Max chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I think I’ll survive. Feel better?”

You nod, offering him a watery smile. “Yeah, actually. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Max says softly. Then, a mischievous glint enters his eye. “So, what should we do with the roses? I vote we throw them off the balcony and watch them scatter in the wind.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep in your chest. “As tempting as that is, I don’t think hotel management would appreciate it.”

Max shrugs, grinning. “Their loss. We could always donate them to a hospital or something. Brighten someone else’s day.”

“That’s ... actually a really good idea,” you say, impressed. “We could do that.”

Max beams, clearly pleased with himself. “See? I’m not just a pretty face and fast driver.”

You roll your eyes fondly, but can’t suppress your smile. “Careful, Verstappen. Your ego’s showing.”

“You love it,” he teases, pulling you close again.

As you stand there in his arms, surrounded by the cloying scent of roses you don’t even like, you’re struck by how safe you feel. How understood.

“Max?” You say softly.

“Hmm?”

You pull back slightly to meet his gaze. “Thank you. For everything. For making my birthday special, for listening to me, for ... just being here.”

Max’s expression softens, a tender smile playing at his lips. “You don’t have to thank me for that. I ... I care about you, Y/N. A lot.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words. “I care about you too,” you admit.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the air charged with unspoken emotions. Then, slowly, Max leans in. His lips meet yours in a soft, sweet kiss that makes your toes curl.

When you break apart, you’re both slightly breathless. Max rests his forehead against yours, his thumb tracing circles on your cheek.

“So,” he says, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Honestly? I’m not sure. This is all happening so fast, and with everything going on with my family ...”

Max nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow,” he assures you. “There’s no rush.”

Relief washes over you. “Thank you,” you say softly. “I do want this — us. I just need some time to figure everything out.”

“We’ve got all the time in the world,” Max says, pressing a gentle kiss to your nose. “For now, how about we get some breakfast? I’m starving.”

You laugh, grateful for the shift in mood. “Breakfast sounds perfect. But maybe we should change first? I’m not sure I want to face the paparazzi in yesterday’s clothes.”

Max grins, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I don’t know, I think you look pretty good in my t-shirt.”

You glance down, realizing for the first time that you’re indeed wearing one of Max’s shirts. A blush creeps up your cheeks. “When did that happen?”

“You got cold in the middle of the night,” Max explains, looking far too pleased with himself. “I offered you my shirt. You were very insistent that it was the most comfortable thing you’d ever worn.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god. Please tell me I didn’t say anything else embarrassing.”

Max laughs, gently prying your hands away from your face. “Nothing too bad. Though you did mention something about my waist being ‘unfairly perfect’. Your words, not mine.”

“Kill me now,” you mutter, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips.

Max pulls you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Never. I’m rather fond of you, embarrassing sleep talk and all.”

As you stand there in Max’s arms, the morning sun warming your skin and the scent of roses filling the air, you can’t help but feel a sense of hope. Yes, there’s still a lot to figure out — with your family, with Max, with your future. But for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

And that, you think, is the best birthday gift of all.

***

The private terminal of Milan Malpensa Airport buzzes with activity as the Leclerc family waits to board their chartered jet. Charles paces back and forth, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, eyes darting to the entrance every few seconds.

“Charles, honey, please sit down,” his mother, Pascale, says gently. “You’re making me nervous.”

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his hair for what must be the hundredth time. “I can’t, Maman. Where is she? She should be here by now.”

Lorenzo exchanges a worried glance with Arthur. “Maybe she got held up in traffic?” He suggests, though his tone lacks conviction.

“For three hours?” Charles snaps, immediately regretting his harsh tone. “Sorry, I just ... I’m worried.”

Arthur stands up, placing a comforting hand on Charles’ shoulder. “We all are. But Y/N’s an adult. She can take care of herself.”

Charles lets out a frustrated sigh. “I know that. But after yesterday ... we really messed up.”

“We did,” Pascale agrees softly, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “But we’ll make it right. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she ever shows up,” Charles mutters, resuming his pacing.

The minutes tick by agonizingly slow. Charles alternates between checking his phone and staring out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of you arriving. But the parking lot remains stubbornly devoid of your presence.

Finally, a staff member approaches the family. “Mr. Leclerc? The jet is ready for boarding. We need to depart soon to maintain our flight slot.”

Charles feels panic rising in his chest. “No, we can’t leave yet. My sister isn’t here.”

The staff member looks uncomfortable. “I understand, sir, but we have a schedule to keep. Perhaps your sister could take a commercial flight?”

“Absolutely not,” Charles says firmly. “We’re not leaving without her.”

Lorenzo steps in, ever the diplomat. “Is there any way we could delay for just a bit longer? It’s really important that we wait for our sister.”

The staff member hesitates, then nods. “I’ll see what I can do. But please understand, we can’t hold the slot indefinitely.”

As the employee walks away, Charles resumes his pacing with renewed vigor.

“This isn’t like her,” he mutters. “She wouldn’t just disappear without telling us.”

Arthur bites his lip, looking guilty. “Maybe ... maybe she’s still upset about yesterday?”

Charles stops in his tracks, turning to face his younger brother. “What do you mean?”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably. “Well, we did forget her birthday. And then when we remembered, we didn’t exactly handle it well. Those roses you sent? Y/N hates roses.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She ... what? No, she loves roses. I always get her roses.”

“Because you always get her roses,” Lorenzo chimes in, realization dawning on his face. “Not because she actually likes them.”

Charles slumps into a nearby chair, head in his hands. “How did I not know that? What kind of brother am I?”

Pascale moves to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We’ve all made mistakes. But we can fix this. We just need to talk to her.”

“If she’ll even talk to us,” Charles mumbles.

Just then, his phone buzzes. Charles nearly drops it in his haste to check the notification, hope flaring in his chest. But it’s not from you.

“It’s Max,” he says, frowning in confusion.

“Verstappen?” Arthur asks, leaning over to peek at the screen. “What does he want?”

Charles opens the message, his eyes widening as he reads it aloud:

“Y/N is with me. She’s safe and we’re flying back to Monaco together. She needs some space right now. Give her time.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Charles reads and rereads the message, trying to process what it means.

“She’s with Max?” Lorenzo finally says, breaking the silence. “Since when are they even friends?”

Charles shakes his head, still staring at his phone. “I don’t know. I ... I saw him last night. He knew where she was, but I thought it was just a spontaneous thing.”

“Well, at least we know she’s safe,” Pascale says, always trying to find the silver lining. “That’s the most important thing.”

But Charles can’t shake the feeling of unease settling in his stomach. “Why didn’t she come to us? Why Max, of all people?”

Arthur places a hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Maybe because he was there when we weren’t,” he says softly.

The words hit Charles like a physical blow. He knows Arthur is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear.

“So what do we do now?” Lorenzo asks, looking around at his family.

Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside him. “We do what Max said. We give her time.”

“But for how long?” Pascale asks, worry evident in her voice. “She’s our little girl. We can’t just leave her alone.”

“She’s not alone, Maman,” Charles says, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. “She’s with Max. And as much as it pains me to admit it, I think ... I think she might be better off with him right now.”

The family falls silent again, each lost in their own thoughts. The weight of their collective mistake hangs heavy in the air.

Finally, Charles stands up, squaring his shoulders. “We should board the jet. There’s nothing more we can do here.”

As they gather their belongings and make their way to the plane, Charles can’t help but replay Max’s message in his head. You’re with Max. You’re safe. You need space.

He tries to imagine you and Max together, and finds that he can’t. What could have happened in the span of one day to bring you two together? And more importantly, what had driven you away from your own family?

As he settles into his seat on the jet, Charles makes a silent promise to himself and to you. He’ll give you the space you need, but he won’t give up. He’ll find a way to make things right, to be the brother you deserve.

The jet takes off, carrying the Leclerc family back to Monaco. But for Charles, it feels like they’re leaving a piece of themselves behind in Milan. A piece that, he fears, might be harder to reclaim than he ever imagined.

Meanwhile, across the airport, you and Max are boarding his private jet. The contrast between the two scenes couldn’t be more stark.

“You okay?” Max asks softly as you settle into your seat.

You nod, offering him a small smile. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for ... well, everything.”

Max reaches over, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “Anytime. You know that.”

As the jet prepares for takeoff, you can’t help but think about your family. Are they worried? Angry? Do they even care?

“Max?” You say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

You turn to look at him, vulnerability shining in your eyes. “Did I do the right thing? Leaving without talking to them?”

Max considers your question carefully before answering. “I think you did what you needed to do for yourself. And that’s never wrong.”

His words settle over you like a warm blanket, easing some of the tension in your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “For understanding. For not pushing me to do what everyone else thinks I should do.”

Max smiles, a soft, genuine expression that makes your heart flutter. “That’s what ... friends are for, right?”

There’s a hesitation in his voice, a question in his eyes that makes you wonder if ‘friends’ is really the right word for what’s developing between you.

As the jet takes off, carrying you away from Milan and the chaos of the past day, you find yourself feeling something you haven’t felt in a long time: hope. Hope for a future where you’re seen, heard, and valued for who you are.

And as you glance at Max, his profile illuminated by the setting sun streaming through the window, you can’t help but wonder if he might be a bigger part of that future than you ever imagined.

The jet climbs higher, leaving the ground and all its complications behind. For now, at least, you’re free. Free to breathe, to think, to feel without the weight of expectations pressing down on you.

You close your eyes, letting out a long breath. Whatever comes next, you know one thing for certain: things will never be the same again. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what you need.

***

The sun is setting over Monaco, shining warmly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Max’s penthouse apartment. You’re curled up on the plush sofa, a book in your lap, trying to lose yourself in the pages. But your mind keeps wandering, replaying the events of the past couple of days.

Max emerges from the kitchen, two steaming mugs in hand. “Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.

You smile gratefully, inhaling the rich aroma of hot chocolate. “Thanks. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, settling down beside you. “I wanted to. How’re you holding up?”

You’re about to answer when the doorbell rings. Max frowns, glancing at his watch. “I’m not expecting anyone. Are you?”

You shake your head, a knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. Could it be your family? Are they here to confront you?

Max squeezes your hand reassuringly before getting up to answer the door. You hear muffled voices, then the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor.

“Um, Y/N?” Max calls. “I think you might want to see this.”

Curiosity overcoming your apprehension, you make your way to the foyer. Your jaw drops at the sight that greets you.

The entire space is filled with bags. Not just any bags, but the kind that comes from the most exclusive boutiques in Monaco. Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Chanel — the logos stare back at you from every direction.

“What ... what is all this?” You stammer, looking to Max for explanation.

He hands you a small envelope. “This came with it. It’s addressed to you.”

With trembling fingers, you open the envelope and unfold the note inside. You’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

Y/N,

I know I messed up. We all did. I’m so sorry for forgetting your birthday and for not being the brother you deserve. I hope these gifts can begin to make up for it. Please come home. We miss you.

Love,

Charles

You read the note twice, then a third time, disbelief turning to anger with each pass.

“He’s got to be kidding,” you mutter, crumpling the paper in your fist.

Max steps closer, concern etched on his face. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “This,” you say, gesturing at the sea of designer bags, “is my brother’s idea of an apology. He thinks he can just ... buy me back with expensive gifts.”

Understanding dawns on Max’s face. “Ah. And I’m guessing that’s not going to work?”

“Not even close,” you say, shaking your head. “God, it’s like he doesn’t know me at all. I’m not one of his girlfriends who can be placated with a shopping spree.”

Max winces. “Ouch. Has he done this before?”

You nod, sinking down onto the nearest clear spot on the floor. “Every time he messes up with a girl, it’s the same routine. Flowers, jewelry, designer clothes. And it usually works, because the girls he dates ... well, they tend to be into that kind of thing.”

Max sits down beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. “But you’re not.”

“No,” you confirm. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I appreciate nice things. But that’s not what this is about. It’s about him actually listening to me, actually seeing me as a person and not just ... his kid sister who can be bought off.”

Max is quiet for a moment, then says softly, “You know, it’s okay to be angry about this. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t hurt.”

His words break something open inside you. Tears well up in your eyes, spilling over before you can stop them. “I just ... I thought he knew me better than this. I thought they all did.”

Max wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You lean into him, letting the tears fall freely now.

“It’s like they don’t even see me,” you choke out between sobs. “They see this idea of who they think I should be, but not ... not who I actually am.”

Max rubs soothing circles on your back, letting you cry it out. When your sobs finally subside, he hands you a tissue.

“Feel better?” He asks gently.

You nod, wiping your eyes. “A little. Sorry for breaking down on you like that.”

Max shakes his head firmly. “Don’t apologize. That’s what I’m here for.”

You offer him a watery smile, then turn back to survey the mountain of bags. “So ... what do I do with all this?”

Max considers for a moment. “Well, what do you want to do?”

You bite your lip, thinking. “Honestly? I want to send it all back. Show him that he can’t just throw money at the problem and expect it to go away.”

Max nods approvingly. “I think that’s a great idea. It sends a clear message.”

“You don’t think it’s too harsh?” You ask, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your voice.

“Not at all,” Max assures you. “You’re standing up for yourself, setting boundaries. That’s important.”

Emboldened by his support, you start rifling through the bags, curiosity getting the better of you. “I wonder what he even bought ... oh.”

You pull out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal a delicate tennis bracelet. The diamonds catch the light, sparkling brilliantly.

“Wow,” Max breathes, leaning in for a closer look. “That’s ... that’s something.”

You nod, mesmerized by the way the bracelet shimmers. “It’s beautiful,” you admit softly.

Max watches you carefully. “You like it,” he observes.

You sigh, closing the box with a snap. “It doesn’t matter. It’s going back with everything else.”

“Why?” Max asks, genuine curiosity in his voice. “If you like it, why not keep it?”

You look at him, surprised. “But ... I thought you said sending it all back was a good idea?”

Max shrugs. “It is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep one thing if it genuinely makes you happy. You’re allowed to like nice things, Y/N. That doesn’t invalidate your feelings about the situation.”

You turn the box over in your hands, considering. “I don’t know ... wouldn’t keeping anything send the wrong message?”

“I think,” Max says slowly, “that the message you send depends more on what you say than what you keep or don’t keep. If you like the bracelet, keep it. But make sure Charles understands that a pretty piece of jewelry doesn’t fix the underlying issues.”

You nod, his words resonating with you. “You’re right. I’ll keep the bracelet ... but everything else goes back.”

As you start sorting through the bags, separating out what will be returned, you can’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Max asks, a smile tugging at his lips.

You hold up the bracelet box. “I was just thinking ... it would be a shame to let something this pretty go to waste, right?”

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “Absolutely. It’s practically your duty to keep it. For the sake of the bracelet, of course.”

“Of course,” you agree, giggling. “I’m being completely selfless here.”

As you continue to sort through the gifts, occasionally showing Max particularly outrageous items (“A fur coat? In Monaco?”), you feel a weight lifting from your shoulders. For the first time since this whole ordeal began, you feel like you’re taking control of the situation.

“You know,” you say, folding a designer dress back into its bag, “I think I need to have a real conversation with Charles. With all of them, really.”

Max nods encouragingly. “I think that’s a great idea. What do you want to say?”

You take a deep breath, organizing your thoughts. “I want them to understand that I’m my own person, with my own dreams and desires. That I need them to see me, really see me, not just as Charles Leclerc’s little sister or as an extension of the family name.”

“That sounds perfect,” Max says softly. “You deserve to be seen for who you are.”

You smile at him, a rush of warmth flooding your chest. “Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how I would have gotten through this without you.”

Max reaches out, taking your hand in his. “You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. But I’m glad I could help.”

As you sit there, surrounded by discarded luxury goods, your hand in Max’s, you feel a sense of peace settling over you. You know the road ahead won’t be easy — confronting your family, establishing new boundaries, figuring out exactly where you stand with Max — but for the first time in a long time, you feel ready to face it all.

You slip on the tennis bracelet, admiring the way it catches the light. It’s beautiful, yes, but it’s also a reminder. A reminder that you’re worth more than grand gestures and expensive gifts. You’re worth being truly seen, truly heard, truly understood.

And as you look at Max, his blue eyes warm with understanding and something that might be more, you think that maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone who sees you for exactly who you are.

***

The afternoon sun beats down on the streets of Monaco as Charles leans against his Ferrari, fidgeting nervously. He’s parked across from the International University of Monaco, his eyes fixed on the entrance. Students stream in and out, but none of them are the one he’s looking for.

He checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time. Your last class should be ending any minute now. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He’s rehearsed what he wants to say a thousand times, but now that the moment is approaching, all his carefully prepared words seem to evaporate.

A group of students emerges from the building, laughing and chatting. Charles straightens up, his eyes scanning the crowd. And then he sees you.

You’re walking with a couple of friends, your bag slung over your shoulder, a smile on your face. For a moment, Charles is struck by how ... normal you look. How at ease. It’s a stark contrast to the tense family dinners and stilted conversations of recent months.

Before he can second-guess himself, Charles pushes off from his car and starts walking towards you. He sees the exact moment you spot him — your smile falters, your steps slow.

“Y/N!” He calls out, waving awkwardly.

Your friends notice him too, their eyes widening in recognition. You say something to them that Charles can’t hear, and they nod, casting curious glances between you and your brother as they walk away.

Charles reaches you, stopping a few feet away, suddenly unsure of himself. “Hey,” he says softly.

“Charles,” you reply, your voice carefully neutral. “What are you doing here?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit he’s never been able to shake. “I ... I wanted to talk to you. In person. You haven’t been answering my calls or texts, and I just ... I needed to see you.”

You sigh, adjusting the strap of your bag. “I’ve been busy with classes. And I needed some space.”

“I know,” Charles says quickly. “I know, and I’m sorry for ambushing you like this. I just ... can we talk? Please?”

You glance around, noticing the curious stares from passing students. “Not here,” you say finally. “There’s a café around the corner. We can talk there.”

Charles nods eagerly, relief washing over him. “Yes, of course. Whatever you want.”

You lead the way to the café, a small, cozy place tucked away from the main streets. As you settle into a booth in the back, Charles can’t help but wonder how often you come here, how many parts of your life he knows nothing about.

A waitress approaches, and you order your usual — an iced latte with an extra shot. Charles fumbles with the menu before ordering a simple espresso.

An awkward silence falls over the table as you wait for your drinks. Charles fidgets with a napkin, trying to find the right words to begin.

“So,” you say finally, your tone clipped. “You wanted to talk. Talk.”

Charles takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I’m so, so sorry, Y/N. For forgetting your birthday, for not being there for you, for ... for everything.”

You raise an eyebrow, your expression unreadable. “Is that it?”

Charles blinks, thrown off balance. “I ... what do you mean?”

“I mean,” you say, leaning forward slightly, “is that all you have to say? You’re sorry?”

Charles feels a flash of frustration. “What else do you want me to say? I messed up, I know that. I’m trying to make it right.”

The waitress returns with your drinks, and you take a long sip of your latte before responding. “Charles, this isn’t just about my birthday. This is about years of feeling invisible, of being overshadowed, of not being seen for who I am.”

Charles feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “What? Y/N, I ... I had no idea you felt that way.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “That’s kind of the point, Charles. You didn’t know because you never asked. None of you did.”

Charles sits back, his mind reeling. “I ... I don’t understand. We’ve always been close. At least, I thought we were.”

“We were,” you agree softly. “When we were kids. But as you got more and more successful, it was like ... like I faded into the background. Everything became about you, about your career.”

Charles feels tears pricking at his eyes. “Y/N, I never meant for that to happen. I love you. You’re my little sister.”

“I know you love me,” you say, your voice gentler now. “But loving someone and seeing them are two different things.”

Charles nods slowly, realization dawning. “The gifts,” he says. “That’s why you sent them back. Because I was trying to fix things without actually understanding what was wrong.”

“Exactly,” you confirm. “Charles, I don’t need expensive clothes or jewelry. I need my brother. The one who used to listen to me ramble about constellations for hours, who’d sneak me extra dessert when Maman wasn’t looking.”

Charles reaches across the table, hesitating for a moment before taking your hand. To his relief, you don’t pull away. “I want to be that brother again,” he says earnestly. “Tell me how. Please.”

You take a deep breath, considering. “Well, for starters, you could ask me about my life. My studies, my friends, my dreams. And actually listen to the answers.”

Charles nods eagerly. “Yes, of course. Tell me everything. What are you studying? How are your classes going?”

A small smile tugs at your lips. “I’m majoring in Astrophysics, remember? This semester I’m taking a course on Stellar Evolution that’s absolutely fascinating. We’re learning about the life cycles of stars, from their formation to their eventual death.”

As you continue talking, passion lighting up your eyes, Charles feels a mix of pride and shame wash over him. Pride in your intelligence and enthusiasm, shame that he’s missed out on so much of your life.

“That sounds incredible,” he says when you pause for breath. “I had no idea you were studying something so complex. You must be really good at it.”

You shrug, a hint of your old shyness creeping in. “I do okay. It’s challenging, but I love it.”

“I’m sure you do more than okay,” Charles insists. “You’ve always been the smartest one in the family.”

You laugh softly. “I don’t know about that. But ... thanks, Charles. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

Charles squeezes your hand. “I mean it. And I want to hear more. About your classes, your friends, everything. I’ve missed so much, and I want to make up for it.”

You nod, a cautious hope in your eyes. “I’d like that. But Charles, it can’t just be today. This has to be a continuous thing. I need to know that you’re genuinely interested in my life, not just when you’re trying to make amends.”

“Absolutely,” Charles agrees immediately. “What if we set up a regular call? Once a week, we can catch up properly. No distractions, no racing talk unless you want to. Just us.”

A genuine smile spreads across your face. “I’d really like that.”

Charles feels a weight lifting from his shoulders. It’s not fixed, not completely, but it’s a start. “There’s something else,” he says, suddenly remembering. “Max ... are you and Max ...”

You blush slightly, looking down at your latte. “We’re ... figuring things out. He’s been really supportive through all of this.”

Charles nods, pushing down the instinctive surge of protectiveness. “He’s a good guy. If he makes you happy, then I’m happy for you.”

You look up, surprise evident in your eyes. “Really? You’re not going to go all overprotective big brother on me?”

Charles chuckles. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have my moments. But Y/N, you’re an adult. You can make your own choices. I trust you.”

Tears well up in your eyes. “Thank you. That ... that means more than you know.”

As you both finish your drinks, the conversation flows more easily. Charles asks about your friends, your hobbies outside of studying. You tell him about the astronomy club you’ve joined, the research project you’re hoping to get involved with next semester.

When it’s time to leave, Charles stands up, hesitating for a moment before opening his arms. “Can I ...”

You nod, stepping into his embrace. Charles holds you tight, realizing how long it’s been since he’s really hugged you like this.

“I love you, little sister,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I promise, I’m going to do better.”

You squeeze him back. “I love you too, big brother. And ... I’m willing to give you the chance to prove it.”

As you part ways outside the café, Charles heading back to his car and you towards your apartment, there’s a lightness in the air that wasn’t there before. It’s not perfect, not yet. There are still conversations to be had, bridges to be rebuilt. But for the first time in a long time, there’s hope.

Charles watches you walk away, a mix of emotions swirling in his chest. Pride in the amazing person you’ve become, regret for the time he’s missed, determination to be the brother you deserve.

He pulls out his phone, creating a new reminder: Call Y/N — every Sunday, 7 PM.

It’s a small step, but it’s a start. And as he drives home, Charles finds himself looking forward to getting to know his little sister all over again.

***

The auditorium of the International University of Monaco buzzes with excitement as proud families and friends gather to celebrate the graduating class. In the front row, an unusually high-profile group draws curious glances and whispered conversations.

Charles fidgets in his seat, craning his neck to scan the sea of graduates. “Do you see her?” He asks, nudging his older brother.

Lorenzo chuckles, placing a calming hand on Charles’ shoulder. “Relax. She’ll be here. Alphabetical order, remember?”

On Charles’ other side, Arthur rolls his eyes fondly. “You’d think he was the one graduating, the way he’s acting.”

“Can you blame him?” Max chimes in from the end of the row, a warm smile on his face. “It’s a big day.”

Pascale, seated between Lorenzo and Arthur, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. “My baby girl, graduating university. I can hardly believe it.”

Max reaches across to pat her hand. “She’s amazing, Pascale. You should be very proud.”

Charles turns to Max, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Look at you, all calm and collected. I remember when you were a nervous wreck asking her out for the first time.”

Max blushes slightly, but grins. “Hey, your sister is intimidating. All that brainpower.”

“Shh!” Arthur hisses suddenly. “I think it’s starting!”

The auditorium falls silent as the ceremony begins. The family watches with rapt attention as the graduates file in, searching for that familiar face among the sea of caps and gowns.

And then, there you are. Your eyes scan the crowd until they land on your family, a bright smile spreading across your face as you wave discreetly.

“There she is!” Charles whisper-shouts, practically bouncing in his seat.

Lorenzo chuckles. “We see her. Try to contain yourself, yeah?”

The ceremony progresses, with speeches from the valedictorian and various dignitaries. Charles fidgets impatiently, earning amused glances from his family and Max.

Finally, the moment arrives. “Y/N Leclerc,” the announcer calls.

Charles jumps to his feet, letting out a whoop that echoes through the auditorium. “That’s my sister!” He shouts, drawing startled looks from nearby attendees.

Lorenzo and Arthur quickly join in, their cheers mixing with Charles’. Max and Pascale stand too, clapping enthusiastically.

You walk across the stage, accepting your diploma with a graceful nod. As you turn to face the audience, your eyes lock with your family’s, and your composed expression breaks into a radiant smile.

Charles, caught up in the moment, continues cheering even after you’ve left the stage. “That’s right! Astrophysicist in the house! Watch out, universe!”

Max, noticing the irritated glances from other families, reaches over and claps a hand over Charles’ mouth. “Okay, Charlie, I think she heard you,” he says, laughter in his voice.

Max feels something wet against his palm and jerks his hand away.

“Ugh, gross!” Max yelps, wiping it on his pants. “What are you, five?”

Charles grins unrepentantly. “You started it.”

Pascale sighs, shaking her head. “Boys, please. This is Y/N’s big day. Try to act like adults.”

“Sorry, Maman,” Charles mumbles, properly chastised.

As the ceremony concludes, the family makes their way outside, eagerly scanning the crowd for you.

“There!” Arthur calls out, pointing.

You’re making your way towards them, diploma in hand, your face glowing with happiness. Max reaches you first, sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Congratulations, liefje,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

You beam up at him, about to respond when Charles practically tackles you both.

“My sister, the genius!” He crows, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around. “I always knew you’d take over the world someday.”

You laugh, hugging him back just as fiercely. “Put me down, you goof! You’re making a scene.”

“Let him have his moment,” Lorenzo says, stepping in for his own hug once Charles releases you. “It’s not every day your little sister graduates top of her class in Astrophysics.”

Arthur’s turn comes next, his hug gentler but no less heartfelt. “Congrats. You’ve officially made the rest of us look like underachievers.”

Finally, you turn to your mother, who’s openly crying now. “Oh, my darling,” she says, cupping your face in her hands. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

You feel tears welling up in your own eyes as you embrace her. “Thanks, Maman. For everything.”

As you pull back, wiping at your eyes, Charles slings an arm around your shoulders. “So, what’s next? Going to discover a new planet? Name a star after your favorite man?”

You roll your eyes fondly. “First of all, I still have to get through graduate school. And second, bold of you to assume you’re my favorite.”

“Ouch,” Charles clutches his chest in mock pain. “After all we’ve been through?”

Max chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Face it, Leclerc. I’ve got you beat in the favorite department.”

Charles narrows his eyes playfully. “Is that a challenge, Verstappen?”

“Boys, boys,” you interject, laughing. “There’s plenty of me to go around. Now, how about we get out of here? I’m starving, and I believe someone promised me a celebration dinner.”

“Ah, yes!” Pascale says, clapping her hands together. “I’ve made reservations at La Maree. Your favorite, chérie.”

As the family starts to move towards the parking lot, Max hangs back, tugging gently on your hand. “Hold on a sec,” he says softly. “I want to give you something.”

Curious, you turn to face him. Max reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small velvet box.

Your eyes widen. “Max ...”

He opens the box, revealing a delicate necklace. A small white gold star pendant hangs from the chain, a tiny diamond twinkling at its center.

“I know it’s not much compared to your usual study subjects,” Max says, a hint of nervousness in his voice. “But I thought ... well, you’re my star, Y/N. My brilliant, beautiful star.”

Tears well up in your eyes again as Max fastens the necklace around your neck. “It’s perfect,” you whisper. “I love it. I love you.”

Max’s face breaks into a radiant smile. “I love you too,” he says, before leaning in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.

You melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your waist. For a moment, the world fades away, and it’s just the two of you.

The spell is broken by an exaggerated gagging sound. You break apart to see Charles pretending to retch, while Lorenzo and Arthur laugh.

You break apart, laughing. “Real mature, Charles,” you call back.

Charles grins, unrepentant. “Hey, someone’s got to keep an eye on you crazy kids.”

Max rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Your brother, the chaperone,” he mutters.

You giggle, taking Max’s hand as you rejoin your family. “Don’t worry,” you whisper conspiratorially. “We’ll ditch him at the restaurant.”

As you all pile into the waiting cars, the air buzzing with excitement and plans for the evening, you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with happiness. A year ago, you never would have imagined this scene — your family truly seeing and celebrating you, a wonderful man by your side who loves and supports you, and a bright future ahead in a field you’re passionate about.

The cars pull away from the university, carrying you towards your celebration dinner. As you watch the familiar streets of Monaco roll by, you find yourself filled with an incredible sense of anticipation. This isn’t just the end of your university journey — it’s the beginning of something new and exciting.

You glance around the car — at Charles and Arthur bickering good-naturedly in the back seat, at your mother chatting happily with Lorenzo who’s driving, and finally at Max beside you, his hand warm in yours. Your family, in all its chaotic, loving glory.

“Hey,” Max says softly, noticing your pensive expression. “You okay?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “More than okay. I’m perfect.”

And as the car winds its way through the streets of Monaco, towards a future bright with possibility, you know that it’s true. You’re exactly where you’re meant to be, surrounded by love, with the stars stretching out endlessly before you.

[what-even-is-thiss]

Ways you can volunteer when you have social anxiety

Hi, I know some of you feel motivated to organize and volunteer with the recent everything but as someone with an anxiety disorder I know the struggle. I’ve been volunteering sporadically since I was a teen and not all of it requires face to face to contact with the public. Here’s some ideas to get you started.

Cooking in kitchens and food pantries/volunteering to cook at places that have daily or weekly free or reduced cost meals like food not bombs, soup kitchens, summer or winter food trucks for low income k-12 students, religious community kitchens like at church gatherings or a Sikh langar.

Making clothing or blankets. Domestic violence shelters are often in need of these for both adults and kids. Organizations that work with foster kids are often also in need of clothing and blankets.

Contacting vendors: If you’re bad at talking to people but good at writing emails a lot of groups are in need of supplies.

Unloading trucks at stuff like food pantries and clothing drives. If possible you can request to be put in the back room or work on setup.

Just show up at the protest. Sometimes you can just stand there and be another body in the back of the crowd. That’s what I’ve done at every protest I’ve ever been in. Wear a face mask and a hat if you don’t want to be recognized. You’re sending a message just by being there.

House repair and garden planting. A lot of organizations that do this stuff will train you.

Write letters to prisoners. There’s a lot of organizations that let you do this but they’re usually specific to a local area. When I lived in Texas there was an organization that connected some classmates and I to a group of people in the local men’s prison who wanted to do a book club so we did a long distance book club with them for a few months.

After school tutoring, babysitting, religious or other types of classes for kids, etc. Some folks feel less anxious around kids and there’s plenty of opportunities to volunteer in both secular and religious capacities. You can tutor, babysit, help run classes, stuff like that. There’s also a lot of opportunities to work with foster kids without being a foster parent if that’s something you’re passionate about.

Counting money. Organizations get donations and those donations often come in the form of cash. This is the primary form of volunteer work my grandmother does for her church and some local charities. It’s a good choice if you’re someone who can’t stand for long periods of time and you’re good at basic math.

Donate blood. Yes this counts as volunteer work.

[savanir]

The What Corps?

“we have you now spook! there is nowhere you can run and hide with our new spectral tethers active!”

Danny winces at the small metal clips that have hooked themselves in his leg, some new GIW tech that is messing with his powers.

“oh yeah? I was just dying for you guys to give me a challenge” plan. plan. He's gotta think of a plan to get out of here and fast. He takes a steadying breath and starts to look for anything that can help him.

he can’t get caught here. He just can't. He simply won’t allow himself.

suddenly the two GIW goons in front of him click their earpieces to clearly listen to what someone else is telling them, Danny is very glad for his own enhanced senses.

“Operatives K and O, be advised, there have been sightings of a new ectoplasmic entity near your location. Other operatives report that it’s incredibly small and moves fast. watch your backs, this may be an ambush”

small and fast? it better not be some poor little blob ghost, Danny sort of hopes it’s some manner of ectowasp, at least that could be entertaining to see.

“you better not be hoping for back up, ecto scum”

“I have no idea what you are talking about”

It's then that a small bright green light zips on scene and weaves through crowds in the distance with ease and then speeds up towards the two operatives who do not hesitate to shoot, missing completely like the storm troopers they are.

Whatever it is, it is indeed going very fast but Danny manages to figure out what it looks like and it appears to be a… ring?

“hold it you tiny accessory shaped ecto fiend!”

The ring does a speedy circle around Operative O while K is lining up a shot and ends up blasting the poor guy point blank in his face, “O!”

Danny takes a step forward with an arm outstretched and a “oh damn! Are you alright?” on his lips when the ring takes the chance to slip on his finger. “Daniel Fenton of Earth”

Danny already had a freakout about a ghost jewelry getting on him, his experiences with those so far have been incredibly bad after all, what with the rings and crowns and pendants… now this damn thing is just straight up outing him! 

Thank the ancients the two GIW stooges are too busy with each other right now to pay close attention to what this weird ring is saying.

“You have the ability to overcome great fear” ah so this is related to him steeling himself just now? Maybe? or something??

You have been chosen” never good, we are back to freaking out again.

“Welcome to the green lantern corps” 

… the what?

Danny notices that his usual outfit suddenly has more green going on, and his DP symbol has some sort of… he guess it’s supposed to be a lantern, maybe? shape around it.

He’s somehow even more glowy now, and there is something on his face. Feeling its shape makes him think it’s some sort of mask.

The metal clip things are no longer attached to his legs though so that’s great!

“You’re not getting away so easily ecto scum! sentient ghost paraphernalia coming to your rescue or no!” They both aim their weapons to take a shot.

Danny figures he can now easily hold them back with his usual shields,“you guys realize you just called this weird ring sentient and thereby negate the whole nonsentie-ack!”

“Attacking a corps lantern is punishable offense as of the instatement of the galactic diplomatic immunity as declared by the-” Okay so now Danny is just raising his eyebrow at this weird as fuck ring. Just what is it going on about?

“notifying nearby lanterns and requesting assistance with apprehension of hostiles”

what?

“getting your friends to help you out vile spook? such a thing is useless with the Blackout still very much in place”

Well… the two streaks of green light in the distance is making Danny doubt that statement.

Maybe there is more to this Lantern corps thing than he thought… And something tells him his life is about to get even more complicated than it already is.

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: noncon, gangbang, pillory, elf-reader, orc assailants, war between orcs and elves, racism between orcs and elves, captive reader, poor confinement conditions, starvation, piss drinking, cumflation, mindbreak, Stockholm syndrome

♡ FEM reader

The orc camp smells of blood and sweat and other obscenities you and your snooty elven nose fear naming. 

They’ve stripped you and your fellow troops of all weaponry and armor—ugly bastards even took your boots! Leaving you in only silken undergarments, standing barefoot in the cold, wet mud. 

It’s to make it harder to run away if you were to escape, you suspect. You can’t decide if it’s a clever tactic or simply a cruel one. Either way, it’s the least of your worries... You haven't been fed or given water since yesterday when you were all captured—paired with having been made to march for half the day barefoot, all tied up by your wrists, one behind the other, toed along like animals with mean tugs that had more than one of you falling face first in the mud—who knows how many of you will be able to continue walking when they decide it’s time to start moving again—much less run away if and when the opportunity presents itself—leaving you hopeless if someone doesn’t do something soon.

And it turns out that someone is you.

“Hey!” you yell. Bruised hands gripping the splintered wooden bars of your crudely built prison, glaring at the two brutes standing watch.

They acknowledge your shout, but neither of them gives any reason for you to believe they understood you were talking to them. Looking at you, then at each other.

“Yes, you two, guards!” you make clear.

They continue to look at you, yet don’t make a move.

You sigh exasperatingly—yet with how tired you are, it’s more a full-chested groan unbecoming of a fine elven knight, but under the circumstances, you couldn’t much care. 

“I know ungodly monstrosities such as yourselves don’t require much to sustain your foul existence, but elves need food—at the very least water!” 

A fellow elf grabs your shoulder gently, saying something under his breath, perhaps in an effort to make you quiet, but you nudge it off and continue your rant in spite of it. 

“If you plan to keep us alive—as I would think, given your decision to cage us—I would advise you to meet us with the bare necessities!”

Both guards look away toward another orc—one sitting on a thick log at the mouth of one of the nicer, warmer-looking tents they’d pitched—perhaps the biggest one—sharpening his blade with a rock.

He doesn’t look up from his handiwork but speaks, “The elf is hungry?”

You scowl at the question. “Yes, you oaf—the elf is, in fact, hungry.”

He lifts his blade and looks it over—one side, then the other—before sinking it deep down into the mud. Tossing the rock away, he stands and whistles sharply, prompting the two guards to wander off as if to get something. Meanwhile, what seems to be the commander starts walking towards the prison.

Regret starts to fester as he approaches, and you’re reminded once again why the inferior race best you in battle time and time again despite your obvious intellectual difference. Three cabbage heads taller than you, his weight must be about four or five, maybe even six, times yours—built like a grizzly bear—plus his armor, which easily adds another.

He unlocks the prison, and you step back on instinct.

“Come. You will be fed,” he says, opening the gate wide.

You look behind you—all the other elves have scurried back into the far end of the cage, leaving you alone in your endeavor, which only feels foolish now that you’re sure he’s going to use those blood-dirty hands of his to squish your head clean off your shoulders as soon as you step out.

Even still, maybe by the adrenaline of imminent death or the lightheadedness of starvation, you dare ask, though a little cautiously now, “What’s on the menu?”

The orc snorts—perhaps at your pickiness—finding your resolve to uphold your standards funny, given you weren't in much of a situation to make demands. You could scoff, too—of course, you can't expect an orc to understand anything about standards.

He smirks, answering, “Something to keep warm."

Or perhaps he was laughing for an entirely different matter...

The guards return carrying something. You spot them behind him, trudging loudly in the slop before halting—mounting something close to the firepit.

By the time you understand what it is, it’s already too late. Your hair’s grabbed—as well as your entire skull—taken in one meaty hand, pulled out of the safety of the cage, and shoved harshly down into the wet dirt.

He locks up the gate again as you lie there. And you take your chance to try and run, crawling forward—fighting through the clay, dragging you down. Scrambling for balance, you’ve barely even made it up on your feet once he grabs you again—this time leading you towards the other two standing in wait along the torture device they’ve set up just for you.

You’re lifted to stand atop a crate, making you the right height, then bent over—with your wrist led into each their position as well as your throat, shoved down as the lunette comes down and successfully locks you in place—perfectly trapped in the pillory with no means of escape.

You pull and struggle, toiling against the wooden plates—too late for any such silly thing as regret you can only whimper in short, panicked screams and cries—but it’s no use. The hand comes back and grabs your hair, yanking it tightly, making your neck crane as he forces you to look up despite the fixed position.

He smiles down at the look on your face—watching your tears make clear streaks through the mud, lips wobbly as you begin to beg, “Please—I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“Oh, don’t worry, little elf,” he cuts you off with a coo, grabbing your jaw in his other hand. “You’ll be fed, just like promised.”

Something behind you rips your silk cloth away, baring you. You stiffen all over, breath hitching as useless fists whiten in their restraints. You want to kick, to thrash—but poor balance only results in you choking yourself—and so you’re left to stand there, helpless—bowed and nude before three orcs you’ve angered with your reckless entitlement.

“Mh, pretty elf holes…” one of the guards behind murmurs, cupping your asscheeks and spreading them to take a look, filtering grubby fingers through the crack and lips, rubbing over both holes.

You shake, trying to thwart their efforts. But a gritty pad roughs over your clit and finds purchase below it.

“Stop, stop! Don’t!” you wail, but it pries you apart anyway—wriggling inside your cunt in a brutish shove, it sheathes itself deeply in curiosity to see how much you could fit, eagerly pumping it inside knuckle-deep before pulling back out—then repeating the motion—promptly finger-fucking the tight opening with a digit the size of an average elf’s manhood.

You sob, heaving for breath. Shaking your head in shame as you start to slicken—if just to make it a little more bearable, but the wet noise of it only serves to make you wish they’d killed you instead.

“Shh, elf. Don't cry.” The commander orc in front of you keeps his hold on your hair, talking down to you as he admires your despair. “We’ll give you what you beg for…” He strokes your cheek harshly with the other hand, smearing your tears before moving on to his armored belt. 

You whimper as it drops, revealing what must be your newest and truest worst nightmare. 

“A warm meal in all your hungry holes.”

The two guards take turns behind you. You can’t see them, but they’ve made themselves more than known—having stretched out both your openings to accommodate their overgrown size. 

They seem to like it when you cum—keeping their fat fingers on your clit and always fondling your tits, rubbing your nipples as they fuck your womb deeply until you wet them with your fluids. Your knees gave in a little while ago—their groping now the only thing keeping you upright, and the steady pounding the only thing keeping you awake.

Meanwhile, the commander has his fun with your face. Making you cuddle his heavy ballsack, dousing your face in the rank. With a dagger threatening your pretty eye, he'd coaxed your tongue out to play sooner than you’re proud of—now pliantly hanging from your mouth, licking every foul-tasting patch of his toad-like skin—feeling worse than a beggar eating scraps.

But you ought to thank him. Earlier, he’d tried forcing his length down your throat—making your jaw all but unlock to make room. His cockhead is the size of your fist—in the end, you could only suck on it, only able to satisfy him and his harsh scalp-ripping grip on your hair by prodding his dickhole with your tongue. He started petting you when you did that, making you feel all the more defeated.

His mercy tastes worse than the rancid white you’d been made to swallow. You’d wanted to bite, but the dagger he’d earlier stabbed into the wooden plate for safe-keeping keeps you sweet as you lick and suck the prominent veins running up his fat size—face glazed in sweat and spit, both his and yours.

“Poor elf-bitch…” he jeers while twirling a lock of your fine hair around his crooked finger. “Fed twig all your pretty life—of course, you’re hungry.”

He chuckles, voice hoarse and muted—almost soft, were it not for its gritty timbre. Keeping his cock resting heavy against your face, covering your eye while rubbing the base against your pouty lips.

“A mouthy whore like you needs real cock. Only happy when you’re pounded like meat.” He hums, “In your natural state, pleasing those bigger and stronger than you as a good pet should.”

He laughs louder, rumbles with it enough to shake the ground, then breaks away from you.

“Leave her cunt to me,” he says, folding his arms upon his chest, leaving his heavy cock to swing between muscle-ripped thighs as he leers at the scene. “Prissy elf pussy’s mine to breed.”

One of the guards soon takes up the vacant spot in front of you, putting his leaky tip to your lips in a sloppy kiss before pressing through to fight your throat for space—putting you in an air-tight spitroast—with your ass already being forced to play host for the other intruder, getting your drenched and swollen pussy slapped by a pair of weighty balls on each of his breath-robbing thrusts into your guts.

“A'right, boys,” the commander announces, “Let's stuff her ‘til she’s big and round. 'See if she's still hungry then.”

They both groan and dig in as far as your body allows, bordering on its limits, making you stretch to take them deeper before planting their seed—coming in fast ropes at first, then thicker waves, and finally smaller spurts aided by the shunting of their hips as they rut against you—feeding it to you without rush, one dose after the other, until their balls were all good and empty.

Then they sigh, breathing heavily, waiting for their seed to be settled and swallowed in your bowels before slowly sliding their spent cocks out—letting the overdose spill from your holes as you take a weakened breath and quake in the aftershocks, left hanging in the stand with a body full of orc cum and something else, something that's made your mind feel all funny and flirty. 

Then, stomach heavy and warm, hanging with more weight than your breasts—tender and oddly tingly all over—you croon, like a cow, when the commander lifts your hips and eases inside your cunt only a short moment after—starting to pound you softly but deep enough to make your head hang and tongue drip with drool, moaning like an animal in its heat, all silly, like a mating-call, waiting for your womb to be fed with the same warmth.

He cups your buttcheeks with both his thumbs hooked within your ass, and still, he feels you tremble and cum without your clitty being touched—milking him for his spend, begging him with your tongue out in sweet mews. "Bleath, bleath, mathder~"

And although he can't see it from his position, it still makes him smile. “That’s right, dumb little elf-pet. Beg, and you will be fed.”

You clench up and throttle when he finally blows, and the warmth swarms your gushy insides in heavenly goo—leaving you feeling cozy from the inside out—cross-eyed and panting in utter ecstasy.

He also waits—waits until his cum takes root and his cock unswells for a good minute or two before pulling out with a throaty sigh. Then he rounds the pillory, a heavy step at a time, until his lousy and still steaming cock is met face to face with your sweaty flush-cheeked expression.

“Still hungry, elf-girl?” he asks, jostling the sloppy member against your equally drowsy face. “Or was it thirsty?”

He picks your chin up with a hand, holding it steady while watching your half-mast and glazed heart-eyes lazily blink up at him—grinning and humming at the sight.

“Tell me, elf-pet, which of it was it you were whining about?”

Drool spills from your mouth as you answer, speech slurred like a drunken degenerate, “Both~”

He clicks his tongue, “Spoiled.” But he doesn’t seem angry—no, rather pleased. “You’ve been well-fed for now—time to wash it down.”

He lifts his heavy slug and puts the numb tip to your lips, which eagerly parts wide for him to press inside softly, filling the drizzly cavern, cockhead resting neatly on the wet bed of your tongue. 

You obediently await it with your eyes locked onto his—both moaning once it comes. Hot and salty-sweet, it pours onto your tongue and sloshes down your throat, spilling from your mouth and somehow splashing all over your face—making you shudder in warm bliss as you gulp it down as if it’s in another class from the aged wine back home.

“Drink, elf-slave. Drink and be grateful,” he instructs, and you obey, allowing the piss-stream to hit the back of your throat where you could glug it all down with minimal spill.

When it stopped, you sucked his tip and tongued the slit like before, cleaning it dry of the last drop, saying, “Thank you—thank you, master.”

Elves never cease to surprise him. Always so prissy—high and mighty creatures—and yet they fall the farthest from grace when pushed. 

He had many different ideas on how to make an example of you to the others—cease any ideas they might have of uproar and rebellion. Leave you here for the ogres and trolls to come and have their sloppy seconds. Tie you up by your ankles and drag you behind the horses through all the muck. Let the rest of his troops have at you until you met with your unfortunate end.

But no. He thinks not.

“Let’s move—” he announces to the camp. “Time to take our bounty home.”

After all, for all your whining, you did have a point earlier—you elves are only good to them alive and well. Best get you to the nearest market and sell you.

The guards unfix you from the pillory and start hauling your collapsed form back to the cage.

“No, not her,” he corrects them, thinking of your pretty eyes and soft tongue and that pretty elf cunt that milked him dry like none other. “She rides with me.”

On bearback, he ties your hands around his neck and lets you sleep with your head on his chest, riding backward with your legs draped over his—still naked with your cum-belly leaking out over his saddle—making a mess he’ll have you lick clean later.

“Tell me if you get hungry again, little elf,” he sneers, though a little fondly. “I’ll feed you again.”

And you, despite groggy, with eyes closed, mumble back dumbly, “Thank you, master.”

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Shigaraki, Enji, AFO ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji, Kenjaku ♡ HxH – Uvogin

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[ellecdc]

i have a small idea! (this totes bounced off that one poly!marauders pregnancy post)

sirius would absolutely find comfort laying on readers belly later on in her pregnancy animagus style🐾

I loved this! you must've read my mind; yesterday I was considering sending out a request for any pregnant!reader or dad!marauders prompts!

poly!marauders x pregnant!reader who Padfoot is obsessed with [1.4k words]

CW: fem afab!reader, pregnancy, discourse regarding shower temperatures

“Wait, so, explain to me why you can’t both just take a shower together?” Remus asked as he followed Sirius and James into the flat, the two boys having argued nearly the whole way home from the shops over who was going to get to shower first.

Sirius made a derisive scoffing sound as if Remus had asked something particularly ridiculous. 

“Remus.” He muttered like he was talking to a troublesome toddler. “My hair and skin are only as beautiful as they are because I don’t scald myself under water heated by hellfire.” 

“My showers are not that hot, Pads.” James argued, though Remus could hear the smile in his voice. 

“My gods.” Sirius breathed out. “It’s starting to affect your brain cells too.” 

James made an offended sound and swatted at Sirius. “Fine, out with you then; go take your freezing shower, but don’t come looking for me for cuddles when you can’t stop shivering.” 

“I’d sooner find Moons for warm cuddles.” Sirius responded haughtily. “Those werewolf genes keep him nice and warm.”

Remus hummed in acknowledgement. “Dove may just have me beat there soon.” 

All three boys took a moment to sigh lovingly at the thought of you; growing and stretching and likely more than a little uncomfortable but doing it so gracefully nonetheless. 

“Sirius if you’re just going to sit here with hearts in your eyes…” James started, though he didn’t need to finish his threat when Sirius turned and took off in the direction of the shower.

“You do come out of the shower a little pink, love.” Remus murmured into the side of James’ face once he knew Sirius was out of earshot. 

James scoffed but leaned into Remus’ embrace. “How does he know that hot showers aren’t how I get my hair and skin so beautiful?” 

“Fair enough.” Remus laughed before he moved to put the groceries away. “But I don’t want Y/N getting into any showers with you; we don’t want her blood pressure rising.” 

James hummed in agreement. “But you may have to tell her that; her showers are equally steamy.” 

“Okay,” Remus agreed, “family meeting tonight about appropriate shower temperatures.” 

The two worked through the kitchen in relative silence before James slowed in his movements; dark brows furrowing behind his wire frames. “Speaking of showers, I don’t hear one running.” 

“Did he seriously fight you for dibs over the shower and then not get into the shower?” Remus laughed, causing James to stalk down the hall muttering something under his breath along the lines of “stupid no good sodding handsome boyfriend, going to be the death of me”. 

Remus waited for the inevitable yelp when James startled Sirius from behind, digging his fingers into his ribs in punishment.

He waited for the two of them to start trading insults - far louder than necessary - that quickly divulged into heated kisses where they pressed each other up against various solid surfaces.

Except no yelps, no tickles, no insults, and no passion could be heard.

In fact, it was quiet…too quiet. 

“Is there some weird portal in the flat that my partners keep disappearing through or something?” Remus called as he moved in the direction of the bedroom. “And where’s dovey?” 

But the answer only came when Remus rounded the corner into their bedroom - nearly colliding with James who had paused just inside the doorway - to find you asleep, curled up on your side in bed with a placid looking Padfoot curled up behind you and his head resting on your waist; your ever growing bump (that you’ve insisted cannot possibly grow anymore) dutifully under his chin.

Remus made an affectionate tsking sound as he took in the sight. “Did you get distracted, Pads?” And the dog’s tail began thumping loudly against the bed, though Remus could tell Padfoot was working very hard to not move his body in any other way lest he disturb you. 

The three of you always joked that whatever Sacred 28 gene allowed Pureblood's to appear impassive, bored, and to expertly save face was absent in Sirius, who never bothered hiding a single one of his emotions; the way he was feeling always displayed loudly and proudly on his face, though he claimed that was by choice rather than design.

But for as expressive or closed off as Sirius could or couldn’t be, Padfoot didn’t have a poker face to save his life.  

An almost embarrassing coo left James’ lips as he made his way to the bed, kneeling carefully on the edge of the bed so as to not disturb you, before reaching over to place a hand on your bump.

Padfoot, for his part, snapped his jaw playfully at James, pretending to bite his wrist only to then lick his arm aggressively when James diverted his loving caress to the top of his head instead. 

“She’s been so tired lately.” James murmured to no one in particular once Padfoot seemed appeased and he moved his hand to push some hair back from your forehead. 

“You try building an entire new person from scratch.” Remus chuckled quietly, moving to stand behind James but pausing when Padfoot’s head shot up.

The canine stared down at your midsection with his ears standing straight up in the air before tilting his head comically at a nearly 90 degree angle.

James laughed, making a breathy ‘wha-’ sound when Padfoot’s head snapped in the other direction, snout still pointed dutifully at your stomach. 

The dog let out a quiet whimper and pressed his wet nose into your side, causing James to laugh and Remus to tsk chidingly at him for risking waking you up.

“Is he kicking, Pads?” James asked then, moving his hand to the now damp spot on your shirt from where Padfoot poked you so rudely as the dog’s tail thumped excitedly on the bed. 

“Please.” Remus scoffed playfully as he reached forward to place his hand next to James’. “Don’t you mean she?”

“They” you corrected suddenly - though your eyes remained closed - as your boyfriends (two human and one currently canine) hovered around your midsection “are lucky they’re so loved when they’re currently using my ribs as a kick drum.” Your breath hitching in time with James and Remus’ hands feeling a strong thump and Padfoot’s head tilting the other direction. 

“Awe, I’m sorry, angel.” James cooed as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You should be.” You grumbled, though Remus could see the faint upturn in the corner of your lips. “It’s your fault.”

“My fault?” James shrilled. 

You hummed in agreement. “They were very well behaved before you showed up.”

“How do you know it’s not Moony’s fault?”

You cracked one eye open to look at Remus who simply winked at you. 

“Just do.” 

“Pads?” James tried then.

“If it was Sirius, I would say the chances were equal.” You admitted as you settled back into the pillow. “But baby is well behaved for Padfoot.” 

“Well…” James started, looking helplessly between his partners. “Well this is just not fair.”

You let out a groan and shoved your face into the pillow at the interruption of your nap when Remus finally took pity on you.

“Wasn’t someone supposed to be showering?” 

James looked over at Padfoot who simply stared back at him before letting out a long sigh and resting his head back down on your belly. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“Looks like there’s been a change of plans, Jamie.” Remus translated. 

“Fine.” James grumbled, though Remus could tell his ire was only for show. “Do you wanna join me, Moons?” 

“I showered this morning.” Remus declined as he took James’ spot next to you on the bed.

“I’ll shower with you, Jamie.” You offered as you went to rise, pausing when all three boys protested. 

Well, James and Remus protested. Padfoot let out a bark. 

“You should rest, angel.”

“Leave Jamie to his hellfire showers.” Remus agreed. “I’ll run you a bath after dinner, how does that sound?” 

Apparently that sounded lovely, because you easily fell back into your pillows with a smile on your face, a dog resting its head on your stomach, and Remus rubbing his thumb lovingly against your temple.

[ririkookiemonster]

Be with me- JJK

Summary: Breaking up with Jungkook was supposed to be your freedom from his obsession, but he’s never been one to let go easily. His presence lingers, stalking you even in places you thought were safe. When you finally agree to meet him after the break up, what should have been a simple talk turns into a moment where you 'keep your promise'.

Pairing: yandere ex bf jungkook x ex gf y/n

Genre: smut

Warnings: yandere tendencies, unprotected sex, jk is a freak, dirty talk, voyeurism, rough sex, manipulation, stalking, dub con, sex while being unconscious, recording while fucking, tit slapping, name calling, nipple sucking, groping, jerking off, cumming inside, fighting, jungkook is crazy about yn.

Word count: 8.4k+

Writer: riri🧞

Writer's note: ⚠️this fic contains sensitive contents, which may be triggering to some readers, including adults. please refrain from reading if any of the warnings trigger you. if you still proceed to read my fic, you're on your own. i will not be responsible for your ass, respectfully.⚠️

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You knew you were royally fucked when you laid in your ex’s arms that night, him stroking your hair softly as he drew invisible circles on the small of your back. This was it again. He was back in your life. You let him. You didn’t had a choice.

Thats when you realized

The only way to get rid of Jungkook,

Was to be with Jungkook...

You were a beautiful woman, with big eyes, a perfect body, pearly white teeth, and certainly popular among men. Jungkook absolutely hated how other men ogled you. You were his woman, not theirs. He couldn’t stand how you laughed with your male friends, or how your girlfriends giggled whenever a man eyed you from head to toe. He despised it. And you hated how overprotective he was.

His intense jealousy often ruined social events, and slowly, you began to isolate yourself from friends. You feared his angry outbursts more than you enjoyed your social life.

“Why were you talking to him for so long? Don’t you know how much it hurts me to see you with someone else? You belong with me, only me.”

He insisted on knowing your whereabouts, your schedules, and even installed a tracking app on your phone, claiming it was for your own safety. Jungkook loved you so much that he couldn’t bear the thought of you getting into any ‘trouble’. The world was too dangerous.

“I just worry about you so much. This way, I can always make sure you’re safe. You don’t mind, do you? It’s because I love you.”

His constant checking on you started to feel more like surveillance than care. You hated it, but you loved him.

At first, you found his constant attention flattering, but his possessive grip on your hand felt tighter with each passing day, as if he feared you might slip away if he let go.

“I can’t stand being away from you for even a moment. The thought of anyone else seeing you, talking to you… it drives me crazy. You’re mine, and I need you to know that.”

Jungkook wasn’t always like this, you swore to your friends. You knew he was a great boyfriend. They just didn’t know him the way you did. He took care of you, wanted to protect you from everything in this world. You were his heart. He often bought you gifts to show his love for you. You loved when he gave you a beautiful necklace, a token of his love for you that you were supposed to wear all the time.

“This necklace is a piece of my heart, Y/N. I want you to wear it always, so everyone knows you’re taken. Promise me you won’t ever take it off.”

As time went by, what seemed like a romantic gesture became a chain, a constant reminder of his possessiveness and ownership over you. Jungkook would get so upset if you ever forgot to wear it. Why did you have to remove it in the first place? Didn’t you love him enough to keep his necklace close to your heart?

“He’s too controlling!” your friends said, but Jungkook wasn’t controlling. He just wanted you to himself. You’re his girlfriend, right?

Jungkook wasn’t possessive or controlling, but he didn’t like when you snapped at him for being too possessive and controlling. Mind you, he was just teaching the guy a lesson for asking to buy you a drink. He had to teach him a lesson. So what if he broke his nose? So what if he threw a few punches? Nobody flirts with HIS woman.

“he wasn’t flirting with me!”

“Oh, shut up, Y/N! He clearly wanted to get into your pants!” Jungkook snapped.

You scoffed at his remark. Was he serious? So what if the man was flirting? He didn’t know you were taken. And even if he did, he didn’t deserve to get beaten up so brutally that the bar had to kick you both out and ban your entry in the future.

“This happens every time, Y/N! Every. fucking. time!” Jungkook was fuming.

“I don’t like it when they see you like you’re a piece of meat. Can’t you see how beautiful you are, baby? A body so flawless, men can’t help but be drawn to you. You’re mine… and I don’t like to share what’s mine…”

Damn. There he was again, turning a heated argument into an emotional conversation in the blink of an eye. You hated how smooth he was, how he’d come closer and wrap his arms around you, whispering sweet apologies in your ear. You hated how you always gave in to his embrace. It was like this every time. Your friends wanted you to break up with him, but he always had you like this. In his arms, where he glided his hand down to cup your ass firmly, giving it a possessive squeeze.

You hated how hot he was… so uncontrollably hot. And you hated how this night was going to end… yet again.

“F-fuck!” you whimpered at the animalistic pace Jungkook was pounding into you. Jungkook groans as your cunt wraps around him so wet and perfectly, grinding on him back and forth.

“You love it slut? Looking like a cock hungry slut for my dick. Gonna bust my nut right fucking now because of how wet you are.” Jungkook groaned, maintaining his pace, pounding hard and fast into to.

“O-only for y-your dick daddy! so big and hard” you mewled, a tiny droplet of tear falling out of your eye at the pleasure.

Jungkook was fucking good at fucking good.

“Yeah? gonna make make you cum so hard whore, you’ll forget your own name.” He moaned out, not slowing down his face. He loved the dirty talk during sex. and so did you. it was fucking hot.

Jungkook knew you were close when he felt you tightening around him. He took his camera, like he always did, and turned it on to record your precious expressions of the pleasure that he gave you.

He loved recording you.

And you loved to get recorded.

Jungkook thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world. Looked so fucking cock riding out your climax as your face contorted, letting out a thread of profanities from your mouth. He loved to keep a record of your beautiful tapes. Only for hime; Only for his eyes to see.

He kissed your temple lightly, cradling you in his arms after doing the deed. You looked so angelic after the afterglow.

“You did so amazing baby… so pretty moaning my name like that. i could listen to you for years.” Jungkook said, playing her tape, replaying her sweet moans again and again. Fuck, he means when he says that.

“Tell me Y/N, would you let me record you sleeping, baby…?”

You hummed lightly, lying boneless in his arms humming at whatever stupid request he was making. You were used to him rambling, you had jeon wrapped around your fingers.

“Really babe? you'd let me fucking record you while i use your body while you're asleep?”

Jungkook asked, excitement evident in his voice. Just the thought of recording your tape while youre sleeping… it turned him on so much.

“Promise me Y/N. You wont back off, right?”

“Alright, baby…” you murmured softly, your voice laced with exhaustion.

“You can’t back off now,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, eliciting another sleepy hum from you. He pressed a tender kiss to your temple, his fingers gently combing through your soft locks until you slipped into a much-needed, peaceful slumber. After what felt like an eternity, he carefully disentangled himself from your embrace and sat up, his back resting against the headboard of your bed.

Jungkook reached over to the nightstand, picking up his camera with a reverent touch. He lowered the volume to ensure your sleep remained undisturbed. His eyes gleamed with possessive pride as he played the video he had recorded just moments ago. Your face, captured in the throes of pleasure he had bestowed upon you, was a sight that fueled his obsession. He couldn’t resist the allure of watching his recordings of you over and over. To him, you looked utterly captivating, a vision of raw sensuality.

He was consumed by an all-encompassing obsession. He’d rewind the tapes countless times just to hear his name fall from your lips again. Each repetition sent shivers of satisfaction down his spine. He could lose himself in those recordings for days, weeks, even months, relishing in the intimacy they captured.

Only he deserved to see you like this. Only he had the right to make you scream in ecstasy. Only he was entitled to touch you in such intimate ways. He wanted to be the sole possessor of your every touch, every glance, every breath. The thought of anyone else witnessing your beauty, your vulnerability, was unbearable. You were his. His woman. He was your lover, your protector, your everything. Only he deserved to see your pictures and videos.

Hell, only he deserved to see you at all...

7:47 PM

You turned your phone screen off after checking the time, stretching your back as you rubbed your sore eyes. You got up from your chair, feeling your spine crackle and pop with relief. After all, you had been hunched over your laptop for the past two hours, grinding away at your English assignment. Even though they were enjoyable in their own way, but they could be a real headache, especially when it came to meeting Professor Smith's sky-high standards. She was a tough cookie, but thats what made her challenging assignments even more interesting. You wandered over to the window, taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air and clear your head now that you were free for the rest of the weekend.

You were hungry. After working your ass off on that assignment, you were finally free for the rest of the weekend. There was nothing better than cooking up something for yourself and sinking down on your bed to watch Bridgerton. The night was still young. You could hear the faint sounds of crickets coming from your bedroom windows, even though they were locked. you slowly opened the windows and felt the cool air caressing your face in the moonlight. You loved summer nights. You loved how lively they were and how the cool breeze flowed through the balcony of your apartment building, even though it was a hot season.

You slipped on your slippers, intent on cooking something quick for the night, when the faint glow of your phone screen caught your eye, indicating a notification received on silent mode. Curiosity piqued, you picked it up and saw a new message from an unknown number. The message was short, just a few cryptic words that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t shake the strange feeling that crept up in your chest as you read it, like someone unseen was watching, waiting for your response.

[Unknown]: “All done with work, baby?”

You didn’t know who this person was or how they knew you were free now. A strange unease settled over you, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint why. Maybe it was curiosity, or perhaps a nagging sense of denial that urged you to dismiss "it". Taking a slow, deep breath, you hesitated before finally deciding to text the person back.

[You]: “Who is this?”

You hit the send button after which you got a reply almost immediately.

[Unknown]: “It’s me, babe. JK.”

So it was him again. “What did he want now?" You muttered to yourself, a mix of frustration and anxiety rising within. It had been three months since you finally ended things with him, discovering the invasive cameras he had installed in your home to monitor your every move. He didn't stop there; he even sabotaged your social media, deleting precious memories and controlling what you could share, claiming you were only meant for "his eyes" to see. You couldn't tolerate his manipulative and possessive behavior any longer, and that was when you finally decided to cut ties for good.

You still remembered how he acted up on the day you decided to end things with him...

“You cant do this to me! I love you!”

“I don’t care Jungkook! What you did was unforgivable. We’re done.”

Your words broke Jungkook. His hands were shaking, eyes filled with tears. He gave you your everything and you were breaking up with him, like nothing mattered to you. All he wanted was to protect you from everyone. You were his.

“No, we’re not done, Y/N. We are not done.”

He sees you stand near the window, looking out at the city lights, your arms crossed defensively. He’s sitting on the couch, his eyes fixed on you, a mix of desperation and anger in his gaze.

"I can't do this anymore. This-whatever this is-it's not love. It's suffocating.” You declared, your voice firm.

"I did all of that because I love you, dammit! I can't stand the thought of anyone else seeing you, touching you, being near you. You're mine, and I need to protect yo—“

”Protect me!? Really, Jungkook?” You scoff, turning to look at him, all desperate. You knew he was shaking, but didn’t know why. It could be sadness, anger or desperation. But you refused to gave in. “Protect me by Sabotaging my social media? Protect me by tracking my phone? By deleting my online presence? You deleted my emails, Jungkook!”

“This isn’t true, baby. I just want the best for you, pleas—”

“Get out of my house, Jungkook.” You cut Jungkook off. You knew you had pissed him off, but this needed to be done.

Jungkook didn’t like how straight off asked him to leave your apartment. You never told him what to do. so why now? he didn’t like it one bit. He stood up abruptly, knocking over the coffee table in his anger. His face contorted with rage and desperation.

"You can't leave me! I won't let you. You need me. No one else will love you like I do. You know that." Jungkook spat. “If you loved me, You’d have known i was doing this for us, Y/N! Goddamit!”

You flinched at his words, but your relsove did not harden.

“Get out before i report you for stalking and spying”

Jungkook’s face hardened.

“so you’ll report my love now, huh?" He narrowed his eyes, taking some calculative steps towards you.

“You’ll get no one, Y/N mark my words. No one who’ll love you like me. I have always loved you. I have always cared you for you. I have always wanted to protect you. cant you see that baby? i have always loved you, my angel. I can change, just give me a chance…” He spoke, his fingers gently brushing against your cheek.

You flinched at his touch, your resolve hardening. You did feel a little sad about the situation, but you knew you had to do it. You had to distance yourself from him. Whatever this was, it wasn’t healthy.

"It's too late for that. You need help, and I can't give it to you. Leave.”

“You think you’ll ever find someone like me, little brat? No one will want you! Because they dont love you the way i do! so stop being a bitch.”

“Jungkook. leave.”

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes filled with a mix of hurt and fury.

“This isn’t over, Y/N.” Jungkook spoke as hep turned and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

Jungkook didn’t take the breakup well. He was absolutely shattered when you ended things with him. He never expected it from you, and the shock was too much for him to handle. In the days following the breakup, his messages became relentless. He would text you at all hours, begging you to take him back, saying he couldn’t imagine life without you. At first, you tried to respond politely, but his persistence became overwhelming. It felt like every time you looked at your phone, there was another message from him, each one more desperate than the last. Eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. His constant pleas were starting to get under your skin, and you needed space to move on. So, you blocked his number, hoping that would be the end of it. Since then, the silence had been a relief. But a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he had really given up, or if he was just biding his time.

Till today.

He was texting you with a new number…

[You]: What do you want, Jungkook?

[Unknown]: i just want to talk, Y/N.

[Unknown]: please...

[You]: No

[Unknown]: i want to make it right baby… i am not asking you to take me back. just please see me this once.

[Unknown]: just want a closure

[Unknown]: if you ever loved me you’d do this

[Unknown]: lets talk for the last time baby

[Unknown]: like adults

You sighed reading his messages. You knew he was watching you. there was no point in ignoring him. you just wanted to get this over with. You still loved jungkook but staying together with him was a BIG NO for you. You took a deep breath and typed out your next text.

[You]: Just talk right?

[Unknown]: yesss baby just wanna talk. don’t expect you to take me back

[Unknown]: miss your face

[Unknown]: let me see you for the last time :(

[Unknown]: i am outside your apartment building. know you are free right now.

[You]: Fine. But dont get your hopes up.

[Unknown]: i wont, i wont baby. be right there

You nervously started fidgeting around your room, playing with your fingers and pacing back and forth. It was sinking in just how dumb a decision you had made by inviting your ex over to talk. Not just any ex, but him. Jungkook. The thought of him coming over filled you with a mix of dread and curiosity. How did he even know you were free right now? You decided to push that unsettling question aside, focusing instead on the fact that Jungkook could arrive at any moment.

In a rush, you dashed to the bathroom to brush your tangled hair, hoping to look at least somewhat presentable, regardless of your relationship status. Anxiety spread through your body like wildfire as you heard the doorbell ring.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Jungkook was here.

And YOU gave him the permission to do so.

But you wanted to get this over with. nothing else. theres no way you and jungkook would get back together, he knew that too. it was just a friendly talk and you both will part ways after that. Taking a deep breath, you slowly walked over to the door.

Heart pounding, you opened the door to find Jungkook standing there, a small smile playing on his lips. "Hey," he greeted softly, holding up a takeout bag. "I brought us some food.

Thought we could eat and talk things through."

Food. Were we going to have a long chat?

You forced a smile, stepping aside to let him in. "Hey, thanks. That's really thoughtful of you." As he walked past, you caught a whiff of his familiar cologne, stirring up a whirlwind of memories.

You both settled on the couch, the tension in the air thick enough to cut with a knife.

Jungkook unpacked the food, handing you a container. "I got your favorite teokbokki" he said, his voice gentle, almost apologetic. "I remember you always loved this place."

He remembers…

You took the container, your hands trembling slightly. "Thanks, Jungkook. I appreciate it." You hadn't eaten all day and your stomach growled in protest, but a part of you was reluctant to accept anything from him.

Jungkook noticed your hesitation and frowned slightly. "What's wrong? He questioned. “You don't trust me?"

Absolutely not.

"It's not that," you lied, forcing a laugh. "I'm just not that hungry."

His eyes darkened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with a reassuring smile. "Come on, just a few bites. I promise, it's safe. I wont kill you or something." He said nonchalantly, making you gasp. You didn’t trust this man one bit. But you needed to get things over with.

Reluctantly, you picked up a fork and poked at the food. Your stomach growled again, louder this time, and you gave in. "Fine, but just a little." The corners of Jungkook’s lips turned upward at your decision.As you took a bite, Jungkook watched you intently, a strange glint in his eyes. "See? Not so bad, right?" You nodded, chewing slowly. "Yeah, it's good."

He relaxed slightly,opening his own container and taking a bite. "I've missed you, you know," he admitted after a moment, his eyes meeting yours. "I know things ended badly between us, but l've been thinking about you a lot."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "I've missed you too, Jungkook. But a lot has happened. It's not that simple. Especially after what you did. it makes me want to rethink my choices that why even are you in my house in the first place."

"I know," he replied, his voice earnest. "But i love you, Y/N. i really do. I might a been a little controlling but i never thought anything bad about you. I just wanted to look out for you, baby.” Jungkook sighed, before continuing. “But I want to make it right. I want to fix things between us."

You continued to eat, each bite filling your empty stomach but doing little to ease your nerves. The food tasted a little strange, but you brushed it off, just like you brushed off his bullshit. You didn’t wanna have this ‘i DiD wHaT i DiD bEcAUsE i LoVe YoU’.

"So, what have you been up to?" you asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Just the usual," he said, shrugging. "Work, gym, thinking about you. You know, the usual."

You laughed lightly, though it felt forced. "Yeah, I know the feeling."

After a few minutes of normal conversation. You did ease yourself a little in his presence. He didn’t seem too persuasive. Maybe he really just wanted to have a conversation. Though, it was unlike Jungkook but he did seem less Jungkook-ish this evening. And it wasn’t normal.

a normal Jungkook, a normal conversation and this bad headache.

Nothing was normal.

You started to feel dizzy, your vision blurring. "Jungkook... I don't feel so good," you mumbled, dropping your fork. Jungkook's expression shifted, a frown forming on his lips, along with a crease forming between his eyebrows. He was worried.

But was he? A hint of something dark flashing in his eyes. But he didn’t wanted to show it to you. Yet.

"Maybe you should lie down," he suggested, his voice smooth. "I'll take care of you." He said, getting up to hold you by your shoulders lightly.You tried to stand, but your legs gave out, and Jungkook caught you, his grip firm.

“Shh… its okay… you’re gonna be alright. Just a little headache and dizziness for an hour or so. you wont get unconscious, don’t worry baby.” He cooed, slowly guiding you towards your bedroom

Panic started to rise as you started to breathe heavy, your body growing heavier. Though you were still conscious, you had almost no control over your body. “What did you do?" you whispered.

"Shh," he soothed, brushing a strand of hair from your face as he laid you on the bed. "It's just something to help you relax. We need to talk, really talk, without any distractions. Gotta talk about your fake promises that you made with me, pudding."

Your vision blurred, and you fought to stay in control. "Jungkook, please..."

Your vision swam as Jungkook's words echoed in your ears, his tone shifting from gentle persuasion to something more intense. "I did everything to love you. Protect you. even built a shrine for our love." he murmured, his grip tightening on your arm. "But you left me. You broke your promise."

Fear and confusion clouded your mind, but his proximity and the drug's effects left you unable to resist. "Jungkook…" you managed weakly, your voice barely audible. He leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear.

"I can't let you go, i wont let you go," he whispered, his fingers tracing along your jawline. "You made a huge mistake by breaking up with me, Y/N. And i’ll make you regret it today. You’re mine.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Despite the fear of his threat, a part of you recognized the desperation in his eyes, a twisted kind of love. obsession.

"Okay," you finally breathed out weakly, hoping to calm him down, to keep yourself safe. Maybe agreeing was the safest option for now, a way to gain his trust. Deep down, you knew this was far from over, you played along, hoping to keep yourself safe from his dangerously twisted self.

His expression softened slightly, a manic gleam in his eyes as he pulled you closer. "I knew you'd understand. Had no choice. Gotta love you some more. Need to keep our promises alive." he murmured, a dangerous edge to his voice. Though his embrace was not something you should enjoy at the moment, you felt a surge of relief mixed with dread.

Your mind raced as Jungkook's grip on you tightened, his words cutting through the haze of the drug. "You're mine, Y/N." he whispered, his voice a chilling blend of possessiveness and longing. "No one else can have you."

You forced yourself to stay calm, nodding weakly in agreement."I know, Jungkook, I belong to you.” You managed to say, your voice trembling.

He nodded, a dark satisfaction crossing his features. "That's right," he murmured, his hand trailing possessively down your arm. "We'll fix everything. Just you and me."

You flinched inwardly at the intensity of his gaze, his touch sending shivers down your spine. "I'm sorry for leaving, kookie. I couldn’t see how much you were looking out for me." you offered softly, desperate to placate him, to find a way out of this nightmare.

Kookie. He missed that. He smiled, a hint of warmth in his gaze, contradicting his devious smile.

"You'll make it up to me, I won't let you go again." He insisted, his voice firm.

As his words sank in, a sinking feeling settled in your stomach. You knew this wasn't right, that you shouldn't have to endure this kind of control. But for now, you had to play along You were drugged by this man. And he was crazy.

Jungkook leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're mine forever," he breathed, his grip on you unyielding. "And I'll do whatever it takes to keep you." Fear mingled with resignation as you nodded weakly, hoping beyond hope that this little act of yours would finally set you free in the future.

"You have to understand," Jungkook continued, his voice low and urgent. "I can't let anyone else have you. If you try to leave again, I'll... I'll do things you wouldn't like, and you know how persuasive i can be, baby…" His words sent a chill down your spine, the threat hanging heavy in the air.

"Kookie, I didn't mean to hurt you. I just needed some time."

His expression darkened, his grip on you tightening almost imperceptibly. "Time? You had all the time in the world with me," he growled softly.

"But you ignored everything i did for you, Chose to walk away. You made me promise things, and you broke them."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words, to calm him down without provoking him further, despite being hazed. "I'm sorry," you slurred, your voice breaking. "I never meant to hurt you, baby…"

He studied you for a moment, his gaze intense and searching.

"I know," he finally said, his tone softening slightly. "That's why l'm giving you another chance…”

You sighed in relief, only to gasp after.

“Remember babe? You promised to let me record you…sleeping”

“P-promised you…?

“Tell me Y/N, would you let me record you sleeping, baby…?”

You hummed lightly, lying boneless in his arms.

“Really babe? youd let me fucking record you while i use your body while you’re asleep?”

“Promise me Y/N. You wont back off, right?”

“Alright, baby…”

“You can’t back off now.”

“Y/N?” Jungkook shaked you lightly, dizziness evident in your eyes.

“Yeah..?”

“I wanna fuck you and record you while you’re asleep. You wanted to earn my forgiveness, right? We can start off by completing the promises you made.” Jungkook said, almost in a quiet tone, staring right into your eyes.

You gulped in nervousness over his words. You had no choice.

You wanted to save yourself from Jungkook

and that could be only done

by being Jungkook’s…

You nodded sofly, a hint of small smile playing on your lips, as you stared at his beautiful brown eyes.

Jungkook looks so sweet. Too sweet that you almost forgot who he really is.

“Of course kookie… I’d do anything to earn your forgiveness…”

Jungkook slowly slumps down your unconscious body on the bed. He felt a surge of excitement, as he was finally be able to do what he had been wanting to, from a long time, and youd finally be able to keep your promise.

Promises aren’t meant to be broken, you both know that. Jungkook loved how he still had you in his arms even after everything that happened. Thats the power of the shrine he made at his home of your knick knacks. He knew his love held an immense power as you, the love of his life had finally decided to open your eyes and see what Jungkook was doing for you.

He was your savior. Your lover. Your life.

If it hadn’t been him, you’d have been so lost. so hurt, so vulnerable, so messed up. Mind you, you could have even be murdered by someone.

Or by Jungkook, if you weren’t his.

But you had Jungkook

He was your life. He knows it.

He stared down at your soft body, lying unconscious on your pink sheets, that smells like vanilla. Jungkook knew you loved him and wanted to prove it when you agreed to take on the sleeping pill 10 minutes ago. You were his. His to use, his to love, his to fuck.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to strip your clothes away from your body, laying you in nothing but your light pink cotton lingerie in front of his gaze. Even though he had seen you without them countless times, (well in the past), it felt like he went through a jolt of electricity, sending shivers straight to his spine, a smirk to his lips.

Jungkook's smirk turns into a wicked grin as he looks down at your unconscious body, his fingers staring to trace over the smooth texture of your skin. His eyes glint with excitement and desire, once seeing your fluffy breasts, his cock standing in salute.

"Fuck, you have amazing tits, baby..."

Jungkook mumbles to himself, as he takes a second to admire them before pulling your bra down to free your tits. Wasting no time, He leaned down, taking the soft flesh in his mouth, his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking softly, swallowing around it, tongue flicking it inside his mouth. They were for him to squeeze, kiss, lick and pinch, after all.

He couldn’t get enough of you, like ever. And so, for a brief moment, he pulled away, releasing your wet and tortured nub, as we walks to his drawers, taking out the same camera he used everytime you to did stuff together.

"This is going to be so fucking hot. I am going to make you mine again, baby. I missed you so much…"

Jungkook turned on the camera. The small red light near the lens indicated the video had started recording. Jungkook makes his way to the bed again, where you were lying there completely at his mercy. He slowly settles himself down beside you, moving the camera closer to your body, recording every inch of you as if he was doing it for the first time. It was Getting hot. You were hot. Jungkook gulped as he slowly removed his white tee, showing off his soft traces of abs and the tattooed arm. He added a few more to his sleeve tattoo collection when you two were not together. Jungkook turned on the air conditioner and sets the temperature on 24. Perfect.

He drifts his attention back to you, his hands move up to your already freed and sucked tits, touching and squeezing them, making sure to get a close-up. His mouth finds a way to your neck, taking in a whiff as he kissed it slowly, his lips wet against your neck. His fingers knead into the flesh of your tits, nipples hard in his palm as he relieves his stress.

He then moves his hand down to your panties, slowly pulling them off as he continues to film. He lets out a satisfied hum when he sees a patch of slick on your panties, not much, but enough to say that you were turned on. In this state. This was how Jungkook made you feel. You were utterly the doe eyed boy’s, in every possible state. This is what true love is. He slowly moved your thighs away, taking a close up of your pussy. Hell, it wasn’t freshly waxed. Jungkook knew you liked to keep it clean whenever you both would get intimate. His heart almost swell in pride as he got a proof that you weren’t fucking anyone all this time. (Not that he didn’t knew it already, he always kept tabs on you.) It still had a soft little patch of hair, but not enough of to make an obstacle to film those luscious lips and needly clit of yours.

Jungkook starts to touch your cunt, filming his finger’s movement. He starts to rub your clit, watching your reaction, not that he expected any. He starts to whisper filthy things while recording the sinful act.

“Look how wet she’s for me. She’s so fucking hot. Fuck,"

The sight of your now slick wet cunt, being teased by his slender fingers made him extremely tight in the pants. Fuck, it was hard to jerk off to the footages of you in your room, doing your thing when Jungkook used to find ways to get his Y/N back. He had missed you so much. God knows how many times he had came in front of monitor just by seeing you change into your pajamas every night. Or when you crossed your legs while watching TV in the couch, wearing his favorite pink tank top.

He lost a month’s worth cum when he saw you playing with yourself with the toy HE gifted you. That was the only toy you owned. Only that thing was allowed to enter you whenever Jungkook wasn’t around. You were using his toy. Why? You wanted him. You need him. You needed Jungkook, isnt that why you used His replacement to calm yourself down. Why didn’t you use your fingers? They weren’t long enough? wrong. they didn’t satisfy you? No. Jungkook knew why. You obviously missed him. You wanted him back.

Jungkook continues to touch and record himself pleasuring you, his own desire growing with each passing moment. He slowly starts to finger you, starting with one finger, soon followed by a second one, making sure to capture the slick movements, the camera moving a little due to the jerks produced by his other hand working on you. "This is so hot, she's practically begging for it,"

Jungkook continues to finger you and suck on your nipples while the camera captures everything. How wet your pussy was. The slick. The wet sounds. Jungkook’s grunts. Your soft breathing followed but a few straggled breaths. Everything . "Look at her, she loves it. Such a dirty slut. My pretty Y/N. She needs my cock inside her."

Jungkook pulls his fingers out of you, admiring the wetness and a sticky thread of your juices joined between his fingers before bringing them to his mouth and sucking on them, followed by a satisfied hum as if just tasted a forbidden fruit. Well, technically yes, the only difference is this fruit wasn’t forbidden. It was completely his.

Jungkook then moves the camera away from your pussy and focuses it on himself as he undoes his pants, the metal of his belt makes a soft click sound as he pulls down his Blue Calvin Klein Denim jeans, followed the the pair of his black Calvin Klein Boxers. His painfully hard cock was already standing parallel to the floor, the veins on it as swollen as the bulbous head, sparkling with a drop of precum. He slowly start to touch his thick length while recording himself.

“You want this… My filthy Y/N. You want my cock inside you.”

Jungkook starts to jerk off, his hand moving vigorously over his shafts, focusing the camera to your body time to time.

“She doesn't know it but she is a slut. My slut.”

“She was stupid to even think about leaving me.”

“She missed me so much. I am going to fuck her so hard to show how much she means to me.”

Jungkook knew he couldn’t take it anymore. You were in front of his eyes after a long time. he needed to be inside you, and fuck you like he means it. He focuses the camera on your body once again and spreads your legs wide open, positioning his hips against yours, his hard and heavy cock being brushed against your folds. Jungkook groaned as he pushed the tip in, head being thrown back as he basked in the feeling of your tight walls. It always felt like first time whenever he fucked you.

“Fuck! Shit! Y/N I missed this cunt.”

In one swift movement he enters you fully, burying himself to the hilt. He can barely contain himself, his fingers dig in your waist as he fucks his cock inside you, his mouth letting out a guttural moan, pulling his length back just to pound into you again. and again. and again. The sound of your thighs meeting fills the room, with soft grunts and mewls of pleasure escaping Jungkook’s mouth, his eyes solely focused on the sight of your round tits bouncing with every thrust. So pretty, so round, so soft, all his.

Jungkook lips turn into a twisted crescent at the sight. Unable to hold himself any longer, he starts to squeeze and slap your unconscious tits, causing them to become red, which only fuels his desire to slap and squeeze them more, just how you loved it.

“You’re my cunt, bitch. Gonna Fuck this fact into you.”

Jungkook had noticed that you had started to stir a little, maybe the the reaction of the pill was slowly wearing off. He found you moaning unconsciously at the feeling of his cock pounding facts into you to the hilt.

“M-mhhh…k-kook ahh-“ He heard you mumble incoherently, feeling your walls clench around him tightly.

“Such a slut, just woke up and you’re already about to cum? You missed my dick that much baby?” Jungkook groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases down his own orgasm. It took him all his might not to bust a nut just right then at the feeling of you clenching around him so tightly.

“Gonna cum in you, you want that, right love?” Jungkook said, his hips never stopping to move against yours, as you slowly started to feel faint trickles of your orgasm, which got stronger and stronger with Jungkook’s pounding. You gasped loudly as he thrusted himself in you for the last time, emptying thick ropes of his cum inside you and filling you to the brim.

The room was quiet, the only thing that could be heard was the humming of air conditioner, and both of your soft breathing, as you lay on the bed beside, your back firmly pressed against his chest. You still felt a little drowsy due to the effect that pill had on you, but Jungkook had made sure to clean you up and change you to your comfortable pjs. The purple satin ones.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck, his fingers playing with the chain of your ‘pendant’ that Jungkook had bought you tonight as a gift for your union since you threw the last one.

“…do you forgive me ggukie…?” You mumbled, earning a soft hum from him.

“I forgive you, Y/N. But if this happens again-"

“It wont happen again.” You cut him off. “I promise, kook.”

His smile returned, though it lacked warmth. "Good," he said, his voice tinged with possessive satisfaction. "Now, let's forget about everything else. It's just you and me now, Y/N No one fucking else. I’ll kill them if anyone gets between us, Y/N.”

You hummed, finally surrendering to the situation that has you caught up in a fucking cycle. And you knew.

The only way to get rid of Jungkook,

was to be with Jungkook.

Jungkook felt you slowly drifting away, so he shifts you in such a way that you were lying on your back. He sat up, his back pressed against the headboard. He reached to the night stand and grabbed his camera, to see how you kept your promise to earn his forgiveness.

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i was supposed to post this on halloween 😭 but had been so so busy with college. my exams are coming up so I won't be able to post as much, please keep supporting.

please like and reblog

-riri🫐

[paxtito]

grey sweatpants

parings: tara x reader (g!p)

word count: 4048

warnings: smut 18+, swearing, reader has a dick, oral sex, fingering and p in v

summary: tara’s tiktok feed has been filled with people buying their partners grey sweatpants, it’s supposed to exaggerate certain… features. she drags you along to the shop to buy a pair and let’s just say, she definitely likes it

a/n: wrote this while listening to the car by arctic monkeys, i will not tolerate hate towards their newer stuff- apologies in advance for any mistakes

MASTERLIST

You’re barely two steps inside the store when Tara’s hand closes around your wrist, dragging you through the aisles with a surprising amount of strength for someone so small. Her eyes are lit up with that determined gleam that usually spells trouble—or something about to become very memorable. You’re not sure which it’ll be, but you follow, grinning.

“We’re not leaving until you’ve tried on at least five pairs,” she declares, her voice laced with mischievous excitement.

“Five?” you laugh, letting her pull you deeper into the clothing section. “Don’t you think that’s a little…excessive?”

“Nope,” she says, without even a second of hesitation. She looks back at you with a smirk. “You need options. And I need the perfect pair.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Perfect pair for what?”

She stops in front of a display of grey sweatpants, eyeing them like they’re some sort of rare, mythical artifact. Tara’s fingers brush over a pair of heather grey joggers, and she glances up at you with that mischievous glint you’ve come to know all too well.

“For…reasons,” she says cryptically, shooting you a playful wink that makes your cheeks warm.

“Oh, I see,” you tease, crossing your arms. “This has nothing to do with all those TikToks about guys in grey sweatpants?”

She shrugs, pretending to look innocent, but there’s no hiding the tiny grin tugging at the corner of her lips. “Well, maybe I’ve been…inspired.”

“Maybe?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “Tara, you’ve been obsessed with those videos ever since we started dating.”

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Okay, fine, I have! But can you blame me? I mean, just imagine…” Her voice drops to a whisper, her gaze drifting downward suggestively.

You follow her line of sight, realizing with a jolt of heat under your skin exactly what she’s talking about. You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at her antics.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so excited about sweatpants before,” you say, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“That’s because these aren’t just any sweatpants,” she insists, her tone serious despite the blush creeping up her cheeks. “These are…strategic sweatpants.”

You blink, trying to hide your amusement. “Strategic?”

She nods vigorously. “Yeah! They’re supposed to be like…the perfect fit. Not too tight, not too loose. Just enough to, you know…highlight the goods.”

You can’t help but laugh at her bluntness, even as your heart flutters at the thought of her wanting to showcase your assets like that.

“And you think these ones will do the trick?” you ask, motioning towards the display.

Tara grins, already reaching for a pair in your size. “Oh, definitely. Trust me, Y/N, once you put these on…you’ll understand why I’m so excited.”

You watch as she practically skips towards the changing rooms, holding out the sweatpants for you to take. There’s a glint in her eyes that promises mischief and fun, and you can’t help but smile, following her lead.

Tara practically bounces on her toes as she waits for you outside the changing room, clutching the sweatpants to her chest like they’re a precious treasure. You can hear her humming to herself, a tune that sounds suspiciously like the jingle from one of those infamous TikTok videos.

Finally, you emerge from the changing room, feeling a bit self-conscious as you model the grey joggers for her. They fit snugly around your waist, tapering down to a comfortable width at the ankle. The material is soft against your skin, and you have to admit, they feel pretty good.

But it’s the reaction on Tara’s face that really catches your attention. Her eyes widen, her mouth falling open in a perfect ‘O’ of surprise. For a moment, she seems at a loss for words, which is a rarity for her.

Then, slowly, a grin spreads across her face, growing wider and wider until she’s practically beaming at you.

“Oh my god,” she breathes, stepping closer to get a better look. “Y/N, you look…wow.”

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks at her obvious approval. It’s not often that you’re the center of attention like this, and Tara’s undivided focus is both thrilling and a little intimidating.

“What’s so ‘wow’ about them? I’m starting to think you’re going mad.”

Tara giggles, shaking her head. "Trust me, you look amazing. I mean, seriously, how did I get so lucky?"

She reaches out, running her fingers along the waistband of the sweatpants. Her touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you suddenly find yourself acutely aware of just how close she is standing.

"It's like... they were made for you," she murmurs, her voice low and appreciative. "They just...highlight everything so perfectly.”

You feel your face flush even hotter at her words, a mix of embarrassment and pleasure coursing through you. Tara's gaze is fixed on you, her eyes dark with a hunger that makes your breath catch.

"I'm serious, Y/N," she says, her tone turning playful. "You could give those TikTok guys a run for their money. I might just have to keep you in these pants all the time."

She winks at you, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. You laugh, shaking your head at her antics, but there's no denying the way your heart races at the thought of her wanting to keep you close.

"Alright, alright," you say, holding up your hands in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright, I guess these sweatpants are a keeper then," you chuckle, giving in to Tara's persuasive charms. "Let's go pay for them so we can get out of here." You say, disappearing back into the changing rooms.

Once you return, Tara's face lights up with pure delight, and she practically skips towards the checkout counter, clutching the sweatpants to her chest like a prized possession. You follow behind her, amused by her enthusiasm and finding yourself caught up in her excitement.

As you wait in line, Tara can't seem to stop touching the fabric of the sweatpants, running her fingers along the waistband and smoothing out the legs. It's almost like she's memorizing every detail, committing it to memory for later.

"I can't believe we found them," she says, glancing up at you with a grin. "I mean, it's like fate or something, right? Like the universe knew exactly what I needed and put them right in our path."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile tugging at your lips. "Sure, Tara. The universe is totally conspiring to make you happy."

"Hey, don't knock it," she says, nudging you playfully with her elbow. "Sometimes the universe just knows what's up."

As you finally reach the front of the line, Tara practically vibrates with anticipation, her eyes darting between you and the sweatpants like she's afraid they might disappear at any moment. When the cashier rings them up, Tara practically lunges for her wallet, eager to make the purchase official.

"There," she says triumphantly, clutching the bag with the sweatpants inside like a lifeline. "Now they're mine. All mine."

You can't help but laugh at her dramatic flair, but there's a part of you that's touched by her enthusiasm. It's not often that someone gets so excited about something so simple, but with Tara, everything feels special.

"Alright, let's get out of here," you say, looping your arm through hers. "I think you've had enough excitement for one day. Crazy girl.”

As you leave the store, Tara clutches the bag containing the sweatpants like a precious treasure. She can't stop grinning, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous light that makes your heart skip a beat.

"I can't wait to see you in these," she says, her voice low and sultry as you walk side by side. "I mean, seriously, Y/N, you're going to look so hot. I might not be able to control myself.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck at her words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coursing through you. “You just saw them on me, dumbass.”

Tara can't help but laugh at your comment, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Yeah, but that was in the store. I want to see you in them in...private."

Her voice drops to a whisper on the last word, and you feel a shiver run down your spine at the implication. Tara's hand finds yours, her fingers intertwining with yours as you walk.

"Come on," she says, tugging you gently towards the car. "Let's go back to my place so you can model them for me properly."

You let her lead you, your heart racing with anticipation. The drive back to Tara's apartment is filled with playful banter and stolen glances, the tension between you growing with each passing minute.

When you finally arrive, Tara practically drags you inside, her eagerness palpable. She kicks off her shoes and tosses her keys on the table by the door, then turns to you with a grin.

"Alright, Y/N," she says, her voice teasing. "Show me what you've got."

You feel a surge of confidence wash over you as you slip into the bedroom, the sweatpants hugging your curves in all the right places. When you turn to face Tara, her eyes widen, and she lets out a low whistle of appreciation.

"Damn," she breathes, taking a step closer. "I was right. You look absolutely incredible in those."

Her hands come to rest on your hips, her thumbs rubbing small circles against the fabric. You can feel the heat of her body seeping through the thin material, and it takes everything in you not to shiver.

"I think I might have to keep you in these forever," Tara murmurs, leaning in close. "Just so I can look at you like this all the time."

You can feel Tara's eyes roaming over your body, taking in every curve and every contour. There's a hunger in her gaze that sends a thrill straight to your core, and you can't help but squirm a little under her scrutiny.

"You know," she says, her voice low and husky, "I think these sweats were made for you. Like, specifically designed to show off every inch of your body."

You feel your face flush at her words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement coursing through you. It's not often that someone looks at you like this, like they want to devour you whole.

Tara's hands slide up your sides, her fingers tracing the lines of your body through the fabric of the sweatpants. You can feel the heat of her touch even through the thin material, and it makes your breath catch in your throat.

"I mean, look at you," she continues, her voice dropping to a whisper. "You're fucking perfect, Y/N. Every single inch of you."

Her hands come to rest on your hips, her thumbs rubbing small circles against your skin. You can feel the pressure building inside you, a need that's growing stronger with each passing second.

"Tara," you breathe, your voice trembling slightly. "Please..."

She doesn't need any more encouragement. In one swift motion, she's pushing you back onto the bed, her body covering yours. Her lips find yours in a searing kiss, and you moan into her mouth, your hands fisting in her shirt.

Tara breaks the kiss, trailing her lips down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin. You arch into her touch, desperate for more.

"Fuck, Y/N," she groans, her hand sliding down your body, cupping you through the sweatpants. "You're so hard already. I love how much you want me."

You gasp as she strokes you through the fabric, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. Your hips buck up into her hand, seeking more of that delicious contact.

Tara's hand slips under the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers brushing against the hot, hard length of your cock. She groans at the feel of it, her hand wrapping around you and stroking slowly from base to tip.

"God, Y/N," she murmurs, her breath hot against your neck. "You're so fucking perfect. I can't get enough of you."

Her other hand works at the button of your sweatpants, tugging them down over your hips. You lift up to help her, eager to feel her skin against yours.

Once your pants are off, Tara takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, her eyes dark with desire. "You're so beautiful," she whispers, her hand stroking you again, slower this time. "I can't believe you're all mine."

She leans down, her tongue flicking out to taste the tip of your cock. You gasp at the sensation, your hips bucking up into her touch. Tara smiles against your skin, her lips wrapping around you and taking you deep into her mouth.

You moan, your hands fisting in the sheets beneath you. Tara's mouth is hot and wet, her tongue swirling around you in a way that makes your toes curl. She bobs her head, taking you deeper with each pass, her hand stroking what she can't fit in her mouth.

Tara looks up at you with a question in her eyes as you gently push her away. She releases your throbbing length with a soft pop, her lips glistening with your precum.

"Y/N?" she asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and concern. "Is everything okay?"

You swallow hard, trying to gather your thoughts. The sight of her kneeling between your legs, her hand still wrapped around your shaft, is almost too much to bear. But you force yourself to focus, determined to give her the pleasure she deserves.

"Everything's perfect," you murmur, reaching out to cup her cheek. "But I want to focus on you for a bit. I want to make you feel good."

Understanding dawns in Tara's eyes, and a slow, sultry smile spreads across her face. "Oh, is that so?" she purrs, leaning into your touch. "Well, far be it from me to deny you."

She shifts back on her knees, allowing you to sit up. Your cock twitches at the change in position, bobbing heavily between your legs. Tara's gaze is drawn to it, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

"Fuck, you're so hot," she breathes, her hand reaching out to wrap around you once more. "I can't believe I get to have you like this."

You groan at her touch, your hips rocking forward into her grip. But you force yourself to pull back, needing to maintain control. You reach out, gently pushing Tara onto her back, your body hovering over hers.

"Shh, just relax," you murmur, your lips brushing against her ear. "Let me take care of you."

You start by kissing her deeply, your tongue delving into her mouth to taste her. Tara moans into the kiss, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair. You trail your lips down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin.

Tara arches beneath you, her breasts pressing against your chest. You can feel her nipples hardening, even through the fabric of her shirt. Your hand slips beneath the hem, your fingers skimming over the soft skin of her stomach.

Tara gasps as your hand slides higher, your fingers brushing against the underside of her breasts. You can feel the heat of her skin even through the fabric of her bra, and it makes your mouth water with the desire to taste her.

"Y/N," she breathes, her voice thick with need. "Please, touch me."

You don't need any more encouragement. Your hand cups her breast, your thumb brushing over her nipple and making it harden even more. Tara arches into your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Fuck, that feels good," she gasps, her hips bucking up against you. "Don't stop."

You switch to her other breast, giving it the same treatment. Tara's hands fist in the sheets beneath her, her body trembling with pleasure. You can feel the heat building between your legs, your cock throbbing with the need to be inside her.

But you resist, determined to make this about her pleasure. Your hand slides down her body, over her stomach and down to the waistband of her sweats. You hook your fingers under the fabric, tugging it down slowly.

Tara lifts her hips to help you, and soon she's lying before you, completely bare. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of her, her skin glowing in the soft light of the room.

"You're so beautiful," you murmur, your hand sliding back up her thigh. "I can't believe I get to touch you like this."

Tara's cheeks flush at your words, a shy smile spreading across her face. "I'm glad it's you," she whispers. "I trust you, Y/N. I know you'll make me feel good."

Your fingers brush against her core, and she gasps, her hips bucking up into your touch. You circle her clit with your finger, feeling it grow harder under your touch.

"Oh fuck," Tara moans, her head falling back against the pillow. "That feels amazing."

You continue to tease her, your fingers dipping lower to brush against her entrance. She's wet and ready for you, and the knowledge makes your cock throb with need.

Tara's hips buck up against your hand, her body begging for more. You can feel her wetness coating your fingers, and it takes every ounce of willpower you have not to plunge them inside her.

Instead, you focus on her clit, circling it with your thumb while your fingers tease her entrance. Tara's moans fill the room, her hands fisting in the sheets beneath her as she arches into your touch.

"Please, Y/N," she gasps, her voice strained with need. "I need more. I need you inside me."

You can't resist her pleas any longer. Sliding two fingers inside her, you groan at the feel of her tight heat surrounding you. Tara cries out, her walls clenching around your digits as you pump them in and out.

"Fuck, you're so tight," you murmur, your thumb continuing to work her clit. "I love how you feel around my fingers."

Tara's hips move in time with your thrusts, her body taking you deeper with each pass. You can feel her getting closer, her breathing growing more ragged with each passing second.

"Y/N," she moans, her head thrashing on the pillow. "I'm gonna... fuck, I'm gonna come."

You redouble your efforts, your fingers moving faster, harder. Tara's body tenses beneath you, her walls fluttering around your fingers as she teeters on the edge.

"Come for me, baby," you encourage her, your voice rough with need. "Let go. I've got you."

With a cry that's almost primal, Tara comes undone. Her body bows off the bed, her back arching as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. You continue to stroke her through it, prolonging her orgasm until she's a boneless heap beneath you.

As she comes down from her high, Tara looks up at you with hazy, satisfied eyes. "Holy shit," she breathes, a lazy smile spreading across her face. "That was incredible."

You grin down at her, feeling a sense of pride at having brought her such pleasure. But you’re still throbbing with need, and it won’t be go anywhere any time soon.

As the haze of post-orgasmic bliss starts to fade, Tara's gaze drifts down to your still-throbbing erection. Her eyes widen slightly, a mix of hunger and concern flickering across her face.

"Y/N," she murmurs, her hand reaching out to wrap around your shaft. "You're still so hard. Do you... do you want me to take care of that for you?"

You groan at her touch, your hips bucking up into her grip. The feel of her soft hand wrapped around your sensitive flesh is almost too much to bear. But you force yourself to take a deep breath, knowing that there's something important you need to address first.

"Wait," you say, gently removing her hand from your cock. "Before we go any further, we need to talk about protection."

Tara blinks up at you, a little confused. "Protection? What do you mean?"

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This isn't exactly the sexiest topic, but it's a necessary one. "I mean condoms, Tara. We can't just jump into having sex without them. It's not safe."

A flicker of understanding crosses her face, followed by a sheepish grin. "Oh, right. Of course. I wasn't thinking straight."

You smile at her, relieved that she's on the same page. "It's okay. It's easy to get caught up in the moment. But we need to make sure we're being responsible.

Tara nods, her hand reaching for the nightstand drawer. She rummages around for a moment before pulling out a foil packet. "Looks like I'm prepared after all," she says with a wink.

You take the condom from her, tearing it open with your teeth. Tara watches as you roll it down over your shaft, her eyes darkening with desire at the sight.

"Fuck, that's hot," she murmurs, her hand wrapping around you once more. "Seeing you take charge like that."

You grin at her, giving her hand a squeeze. "I'm glad you approve. Now, where were we?"

Tara's eyes sparkle with mischief as she pulls you towards her, guiding you to lie on top of her once more. "I think we were right about here," she purrs, her legs parting invitingly.

The heat of her core radiates against your protected length, making you shiver with anticipation. You line yourself up with her entrance, teasing her with the tip of your cock.

"Are you ready for me?" you murmur, your breath hot against her neck.

Tara nods, her hips lifting in a silent plea. "I've never been more ready for anything in my life," she breathes, her nails digging into your shoulders.

With a slow, deliberate thrust, you push forward, feeling her tight heat envelop you. Tara gasps at the intrusion, her walls stretching to accommodate your size.

"Oh fuck," she moans, her head falling back against the pillow. "You're so big, Y/N. It feels amazing."

You groan at her words, the sensation of her tightness driving you wild. You start to move, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, setting a steady rhythm.

Tara meets your movements, her hips rising to greet each thrust. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, punctuated by your shared moans of pleasure.

"Harder," Tara gasps, her nails raking down your back. "Fuck me harder, Y/N."

You oblige, increasing the speed and force of your thrusts. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful drive of your hips.

Tara's legs wrap around your waist, her ankles locking at the small of your back. The new angle allows you to go even deeper, and you feel her tightening around you, signaling her impending release.

"Y/N," she cries out, her voice strained with pleasure. "I'm gonna come again. Don't stop, please don't stop."

You redouble your efforts, pounding into her with abandon. The feeling of her walls fluttering around you is almost too much to bear, and you can feel your own release building.

Tara cries out, her body arching off the bed as another orgasm rips through her. Her walls clamp down around you, milking your cock for all it's worth. The sensation is too much to bear, and with a final, guttural groan, you come undone.

Your hips stutter as you empty yourself inside the condom, your body shaking with the force of your release. Tara holds you close, her fingers threading through your hair as she whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

As you both come down from your highs, you collapse onto the bed, your bodies tangled together in a sweaty heap. Tara nuzzles into your neck, placing soft kisses along your jawline.

"That was incredible," she murmurs, her voice hoarse from screaming. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You grin at her, pulling her closer. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," you say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "Because we're definitely doing that again.

Tara laughs, the sound bright and carefree. "I wouldn't have it any other way," she says, her fingers tracing patterns on your chest.

[p1utofairy]

★ WHICH COMIC BOOK COUPLE ARE YOU AND YOUR PERSON MOST LIKE?

NOTE — love and light my babies ⭐️🧿 take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. for entertainment purposes only. your feedback is always so greatly appreciated, enjoy!

— PILE 1.

channeled couple(s) → batman x catwoman + jean grey x cyclops.

your person is a very hands-on, actively involved and dynamic individual who thrives in fast-paced environments. they’re very resourceful and can turn a negative into a positive in the blink of an eye – a true problem solver if you will. they learn things/adapt quicker than most and i feel like a lot of people regard them as an amazing friend. your person is very inquisitive and always wants to know more. once they complete a task, they’re on to the next; it can be hard to pin them down for long periods of time. they might move around a lot physically (could have OCD) but i’m more so picking up that they’ve lived here, there and everywhere.

they’re always on the go! i’m also picking up that your person is a little bit of a control freak but gosh they can't help it; they truly love to lead and be of service. you’re gonna find this so hot lowkey lol which is funny because i think you typically go for someone that let’s you control things and have the upper hand but with this person it’s not like that. their sense of control is different though — it’s not possessive, like “you’re mine!” or “no, you can’t go out wearing that!” instead, it’s more about seeing you struggle with something and insisting on helping you with it. you might say, “no, i’ve got it,” but they’ll respond, “here, just let me…” you get frustrated because you just said you could handle it, but there they go, taking it from your hands and easing the stress and pain you were carrying. wow, that was such a descriptive scenerio but it just randomly came to me lol. it’s giving 6H energy!

11:11 on the clock i’m blushing hehe your person is super sweet and chivalrous it’s very charming, pile 1. don’t even get me started on their physique WHEW you’re gonna love their arms/biceps…your person might even have a lot of tattoos (i’m seeing sleeve tats) and i can just see you fighting the urge to playfully bite them lol. they could be very athletic and go to the gym a lot. now switching gears, the comic book couples that similarly mirrors your connection is jean grey x cyclops + batman and catwoman. some of y’all might be rolling your eyes at the mention of jean and scott (my wolverine girlies i’m talking to you) but HERE ME OUT and let me cook!

i feel like you’re more of a wanderer and don’t care to be as involved as your person is, if that makes sense? gypsy by fleetwood mac just started playing in my mind. trials and tribulations throughout your life might have caused you to turn inwards, and you feel unsure about what it is your supposed to be doing/where life is exactly taking you. your presence is more calm and still and your person is again, more hands on and out there. like jean grey, you are very clever and passionate but there’s a temperamental side to you. you might have strong air sign placements in your chart because i feel that you’re very rational about your emotions – sometimes to a fault. i think you hold back a lot of the times (especially when it comes to love) in fear of hurting other people’s feelings or just being misunderstood. some of you could have people-pleasing tendencies. your person gives that scott summers vibe because their actions are typically driven by a sense of duty rather than a desire to please others.

whether you know it or not, you wield a lot of power and sometimes i think people take your kindness for weakness. what your person is really going to admire about you is how intentional you are especially when it comes to giving/receiving love. you are so gentle and kind with your person – soooo doting and attentive. you two deadass have a telepathic connection cause when one person is feeling off, the other one can sense it. your person is also tryna be funny and say that you’re used to dealing with logans (wolverine) but they’re coming to change that. LMAOOOO your person is funny as fuck if you couldn’t already tell.

you both compliment each other so well, spiritually and physically. that’s why i also channeled batman x catwoman because y’alls vibe just gives that. y’all know those crazy ass tiktok/IG comments when people are like i need to see the tape PLS yeah…y’all evoke that reaction from people. you both find each other incredibly sexy like the sexual tension between you both is gonna be insaneeeee. i’m also sensing a bit of a bratty energy coming from your end in terms of the attention your person gets lol they might be very sought after. it’s reminding of the ending scene of ‘the batman’ when selena is urging batman to come with her and part of him is superrrr tempted but duty calls. i promise you that your person only wants you, though. like i’m being so deadass when i say that they’re literally gonna be devoted to you.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

“i work alone”, you might be used to the wolverine types but what you really need is a scott summers, back to black by amy winehouse, spotless mind by jhené aiko, maneater by nelly furtado, dylan, slayyyter, dua lipa, ESFJ, ISTJ, resemblance to callum turner, 333, sagittarius, 6H cancer, capricorn rising, 555.

— PILE 2.

channeled couple(s) → daredevil x elektra + rogue x gambit.

oooo right off the bat i’m hearing stand still by sabrina claudia. you’re so unaware that we're feeling, the same thing, the same damn thing…time is standing still and why are we still here? interesting, pile 2. very interesting! you and your person are more alike than you would think. from the outside you both appear very different, but energetically you both are sooo compatible. i’m hearing “from different worlds” and being drawn to the movie aladdin lol maybe that’s one of your favorite disney movies or your person’s? i think that’s why i was picking up on elektra x daredevil because it’s like…you and your person’s upbringing differed in a way but there’s a common ground in terms of how it’s shaped you both. one of you is more forward and hasty while the other is more reluctant and calculated.

you feel very confined and limited…like your environment is just so repetitive and boring. you’ve been hoping for something new to manifest – and you feel like you’re on the brink of it, it’s like you can almost reach out and touch it. for most of you, this is in regards to your connection with this person but for other’s it’s a job/traveling opportunity of some sort. you could possibly live in a very small town or somewhere that doesn’t have a lot to offer/keep you occupied. you’re about to see some progress sooner than you think, pile 2. give it about 1-3 months and watch how the magic happens! sagittarius season could be very significant for you.

your person is going to come into your life HOT and HEAVY, omg. you’re gonna be like wait wtf when did you get here?! nobody’s supposed to be here by deborah cox is playing in my head now – i’ve tried that love thing for the last time…my heart says no, no! nobody's supposed to be here…but you came along and changed my mind. LMAOOOO well pile 2 get ready cause your person is gonna sweep you off your damn feet. now it makes sense why i channeled rogue x gambit for you two because it’s like you’re taking of risk of some sort…the risk being your heart. trusting someone romantically is like risky business for you.

you’re so used to being able to predict outcomes and know what’s going to happen next, but with this person uhn uhn things are not so black and white. actually, there’s a lot of grey areas and that’s what’s going to scare you yet intrigue you about this person. you’re so rogue coded, awww. rogue has the ability to absorb the powers and memories of others through touch, so that makes her very guarded and reluctant to form close relationships. gambit is intrigued by her, but she is wary of him. i see this being similar to you and your person’s interactions…there might be an initial hesitation on your end but there’s an undeniable chemistry between the two of you!

your person is similar to gambit who is a smooth-talking, charming, and rough around the edges type of character. he’s very drawn to rogue’s beauty and strength (and similar to you) her self-imposed isolation and emotional baggage makes her hesitant to open up to him. i’m definitely picking up on the slow-burn trope for y’all, pile 2. although you really want this connection you might feel held back by self-doubt and fear intimacy/vulnerability. you’ve gotta work through this slowly but surely, my loves. it’s not easy but it’s necessary because this person absolutely loves you, pile 2. they’d put everything on the line for you if they had to.

just like gambit, this person will always be deeply in love with you no matter how much you try to shut them out or act like your feelings aren’t as deep as they really are. i also just want to mention that your person has such a way with words like UGH the way they say things/articulate themselves is gonna have you going feral lol they’re so knowledgeable and persuasive. it doesn’t help that they’re fine as fuck too lol you’re gonna be mentally shadow-boxing your anxiety whenever you’re around them because they’re just soooo damn charming fr!

i’m also being drawn to one of the biggest themes of rogue and gambit’s relationship which is rogue not being able to physically touch him without absorbing his memories and abilities – which is something that frightens her, not only because it could harm him but also because it’s something that strips away everything from the person she’s touching. now y’alls situation is obviously not that dramatic, but i am picking up that some of you that picked this pile could be virgins or celibate. i feel like the wait will make you both become even closer.

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

you make wanna by usher, “i never thought this was possible”, bit of a wild card (no pun intended), fiery personality, leo/aquarius placements, you’re their best friend, love on the brain by rihanna.

— PILE 3.

channeled couple → wanda maximoff x vision.

you and your person are too stinkin’ cute, pile 3. lmaooo i know that sounds so corny and cheesy but your person puts you in this kind of mood. the sun is shining sooo bright as i’m writing this. it’s like you light up their life and vice versa. you remind them of a warm summer day at the beach where you’re free to just roam around, have ice cream and relax. you’re like a breath of fresh air for this person. your person can be extremely sappy (in the best way possible) like i see them randomly just grabbing you and spinning you around or twirling you lol they’re like…always in a good mood. they might like to sing or dance mhm i get the vibe that they have a CD collection like they really love music sooo much! they will love to cook for you as well awww they’re so considerate, pile 3. you guys are definitely giving that old school cutesy romantic 60s couple vibe for sure, i could cry!

i channeled wanda maximoff x vision for a reason i see. i feel like when you first meet your person you’re going to be going through alot in your own life and i’m not necessarily getting that it’s anything bad but it seems like you’re either working through something or towards something. this could be you confronting some childhood trauma and/or previous relationship baggage. it might also be that you're not quite where you imagined you'd be in life right now, or maybe you're feeling a bit unsure about your current path. whatever the reason, your person will likely sense that you're feeling a little lost, and they'll pick up on that shift in your energy. you might meet your person while you’re traveling or outside of wherever you live (i’m hearing out the country for some) and i see you two forming a very close friendship first. infrunami by steve lacy is coming to mind – girl, you're the one i want, you’re the one i need…i’m beggin' you, please. can you come back to me? 'cause i was blind to see that you were right in front of me. hm for some of you this person could be a mutual or you somehow know them through your friends? if not, there just seems to be a sense of familiarity between the two of you.

i’m hearing “wow what a small world!” so tbh you could meet this person through one of your friends lol now i’m hearing best friend’s brother by victoria justice PLEASE that’s so random but on brand. also i’m picking up that your person could wear glasses? they are very inquisitive and can read you like a book, pile 3.

like vision, your person can pick up on your emotions, sensing when something is off even if you don’t express it. though vision is a synthezoid, his close connection to wanda and his time with the avengers allowed him to empathize deeply with human emotions. over time, his understanding of these feelings went beyond his programming, and his love for wanda amplified his ability to sense when she’s in distress. he offers comfort to her when she's struggling with her powers or grief. i feel like this relationship will be therapeutic for the both of you! you scratch their back, they’ll scratch yours.

you are similar to wanda in the sense that you can alter/create your reality – YOU have the power, but you have to believe it first. you doubt yourself a lot and create a lot of chaos within your mind because you can’t decide whether or not you should do something or if you’re even making the right decision. i think this has a lot to do with your childhood/upbringing, you stay in the shadows instead of being in the spotlight. that’s the problem, pile 3. i think you’re afraid of taking up space in fear of what others might say or think. there’s this sense of imposter syndrome. in order to bring this relationship into fruition you’ve gotta trust and believe in yourself, my loves. you’re an absolute badass – pop out and act like it! 10:10 on the clock. stop getting so caught up in the idea of what you think should be perfect. nothing and no one is perfect and ironically that’s the beauty of life lol shit ain’t always sweet and that’s okay. the world keeps spinning. it might not seem like it now but you will be more than okay, trust me! your person can’t wait to be in your orbit eeek i’m giddy at the thought of you two connecting. you don’t even realize it but your spirit guides are working overtime to make this connection happen hehe it starts with you though, babe. buckle up cause your person is ready. are you down to ride?

OTHER CHANNELED MESSAGES —

michael, breakfast at tiffany’s, NYC, month of may, one of the girls by the weeknd ft. lily rose depp & jennie, looks like MBJ, leo, 7H, 6H/virgo venus.

[salemlunaa]

✰ GIVE IT TO YOURSELF NOW✰

who cares what the 3d is showing you?!?!

A lot of my followers are using the “I AM” state, inducing pure consciousness to get new lives and when they “fail” to do so, they get all upset in my dms. But if you’re a god you shouldn’t be conforming to the 3d, you’ve already been to the “I AM” state and you already have your dream life!! Are you just gonna sit there and let the 3d tell you what’s what? seriously? after all the affirming that you are a god of your own reality.

I know circumstances can be so unfavourable and unforgiving, but in the midst of it all i will ask you to close your eyes and give it to yourself. You’ve already shifted consciousness, you are already living your dream life. Who cares what the 3d is showing you, it was never about the 3d and if you can’t understand that you’re never gonna progress. Ever.

Imagine yourself as faceless and formless throughout the day, reminding your subconscious that the void and shifting is natural to you. Imagine yourself waking up from the void/“I AM” state with everything you’ve ever wanted, everything you’ve scripted, how would you feel, feel it, give it to yourself. Stop punishing yourself for something you see in the 3d.

And when you visualise these things, do not view them as some dream or some fantasy that you wish would happen, when you are visualising inducing pure consciousness and waking up with your desires, you are recounting memories, it’s real life for you, it’s already happened. Relive these visualisations over and over, give it to yourself now, simply because you can.

You’re here being miserable because it “didn’t work”. But how do you know that? How do you know it didn’t work? Because the 3d said so? Who’s to say you aren’t living your dream life right now? Is the 3d your bitch or is it the other way round? If youre sooo powerful why are you applying yourself to the 3d, why are you conforming to anyone but yourself?

Every time wavering thoughts come about, remind yourself that none of it is real, you are living your dream life. You haven’t “accomplished nothing” because you are everything, you can choose to live your dream now. Choose to give it to yourself no matter what the 3d says

“i’ve been in this community for 2 years and have done nothing” ➯ “I am a master at inducing pure consciousness and i’ve BEEN living my best life”

“i woke up without my desires again… it never works for me, no matter how hard i relax, i can’t induce pure consciousness” ➯ “i ALWAYS enter the void, matter of fact, the void HATES to see me coming”

*getting sad because the 3d is showing you a reality where you’ve woken up with nothing again* ➯ “nuh uh, NOT MY REALITY, the void is my bitch not the other way around, i tap in when ever i want, i’ve BEEN had my dream life”

*harsh circumstances hitting you like a ton of bricks* ➯ *close your eyes and visualise the life you’re ACTUALLY living, not this bullshit the 3d is showing you*

the 3d will conform, always, it’s called the LAW of assumption for a reason , not some belief that can be speculated against or some conspiracy that can be mocked. it’s LAW never forget that. if you visualise inducing pure consciousness and waking up with everything, by giving it to yourself in the 4d, the 3d will inevitably follow suit. always.

You’ve BEEN living your dream, what are you talking about? 🌺💋

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

HELLOOO idk if ur requests are on rn so take ur time with this request and get to it at ur own time but i was wondering if u could make a short one shot fic abt reader who is in a relationship with katsuki and is at home while he's out in patrol and she sees his location with life 360 and sees that he's beside some sort of restaurant or supermarket so she texts him smth like

i see ur beside the ramen place i like can u buy dinner tonight 😊

AND THEN KATSUKI IS JUST 🤬🤬🤬 WTF HOW DO U KNOW WHERE I AM ARE U OUTSIDE RN

all lighthearted and funny :))

THANK UUU SO MUCHH 💞💞

LMFAOOOO thjs js so funny😭😭😭 tysm for this ask i hope i did it some justice :33 hope you’re still stickin around to read it anon ! Short lil drabble, much luv xx

“since you’re by that ramen place i like you can get some for dinner 💋💕”

“ ? what the fuck”

“?? where are you.”

“?”

before you can send another text message, your phone lights up with your boyfriend’s caller id, you giggle.

“hi, baby.”

“where the fuck are you at ?”

you snort, readjusting on your sofa “what are you talking about ?” you ask teasingly.

you catch the sound of people talking as you hear katsuki grumbling to himself “i don’t see you.”

you giggle, kicking your legs a little “and why would you need to see me ?”

katsuki groans, already exasperated and growing more and more impatient, you’re surprised he hasn’t started cursing your entire bloodline yet “quit it with that mysterious bullshit, how do you know where i’m at.”

and just to mess with him, you respond “i see you.”

it’s quiet on his end for a moment, aside from the chatter on the street “yn. i’ll fucking kill you.” you throw your head back and laugh “once i find you, you’re done for. your ass is grass.”

“i like it when you talk dirty to me.” you joke, he scoffs hard on the other end “freak.” you hear him mumble, you giggle some more.

“i’m at home, just saw your location and decided to ask you to get me some food.”

“get you some food.” he bites, scoffing in disbelief.

“us, get us some food. pretty please, suki ?” you use your sweetest voice, maybe he might even be able to imagine your puppy dog eyes through the phone.

he laughs sarcastically “right. what makes you think you deserve to get anything after that little stunt you pulled, huh ?”

you pout, whining so he knows you are “i was just kidding, was jus’ a little jokey-joke.” you can’t help but tease him a bit more.

“yeah, my ass.” you snort loudly, laughing and the huff he lets out clearly lets you know he’s not amused, you can see him rolling his eyes at your antics.

“we’ll see.” is the answer he graces you with. you squeal, cus you know that means you won. katsuki is quick to remind you he didn’t say yes, but you already know his mind’s been made.

“i’m surprised you didn’t ask me why i have your location on my phone.” you hum.

katsuki sounds utterly confused by your question when he responds “why would i give a shit about that ? s’not like i get somethin’ to hide. don’t care if you know where i’m at.” he responds simply.

“sides, i know how obsessed you are with me, so—”

“i’m hanging up now, katsuki. get me my ramen. toodles.” your bitter tone makes him laugh, and just to piss you off some more he adds in a honeyed sweet “see you later, babe. love ya.” before he hangs up. you huff shaking your head. a text pings and you swipe up to check it, it’s from katsuki again.

“i’m not getting you shit btw.”

he does indeed come back with ramen.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hello!! I have a request for you!

So I was just thinking how if yuji maybe had a crush on someone and didn’t really know who to ask for advice since nobara would straight up laugh at him, and megumi wouldn’t really care. He knows the reader and Nanami are happily married so he decided to ask him for advice on how to ask the girl out!

This is the cutest thing ever, had to write that asap

Yuji asking Kento Nanami and his wife for relationship advice

Pairing: husband!Nanami x reader; Yuji x reader in a mother/son kinda way

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: If there's one couple that comes to his mind when he thinks about relationships, it has to be you and Nanami-sensei. Who else to ask for relationship advice if not you and him, then?

Warnings: this is pure fluff with a tint of comedy y'all, I'm in love with the Yuji and Nanami content, just a little happiness to brighten your day hehe

Yuji Itadori wanders the halls of Jujutsu High with a slight blush dusting his cheeks. He’s been doing everything he can to pretend everything is normal, but the fact is, he’s got something weighing on him - and it’s not cursed spirits for once. He’s been distracted during training, missing cues and slipping up in ways that aren’t like him. Megumi and Nobara have noticed, but his usual grin deflects their concern. What they don’t know is that there’s a girl he can’t stop thinking about, and Yuji doesn’t know a damn thing about what to do about it.

Which is how he finds himself searching for someone to give him advice - someone who’ll listen without teasing or judgment. He’s crossed Nobara off the list right away, imagining her hysterical laughter that would probably echo through the halls. Megumi was next, but he knew his friend would just shrug and say he didn’t know much about dating either. It isn’t until later that Yuji remembers someone he admires, someone who actually knows about relationships.

But how is he supposed to talk to you?

His footsteps quicken as he makes his way toward Nanami’s office. He knocks twice, then stands there awkwardly without waiting for a reply.

“Come in- Oh, there you are.”

Yuji pushes open the door to find not just Nanami sitting at his desk, but you, his wife, by his side. His heartbeat quickens in an instant. Normally, you don’t spend much time here at Jujutsu High – just like Nanami-sensei himself. It has to mean something that you’re here today when he was just thinking about you, right? Maybe this is the best chance he’ll get in his search for answers.

The two of you have become something of a constant for Yuji, the calm among the chaos that surrounds Jujutsu High. He’s seen the way Nanami looks at you, the subtle way his hand will brush against yours, or the soft look that crosses his face when you laugh. Yuji’s always admired it, but he’s never really thought about it being something he’d want too - until recently.

“Oh, Yuji,” you greet him warmly, your smile immediately easing some of the tension in his chest.

“Is everything okay?”

“Oh! Yeah!”

He shuffles from one foot to the other, trying to work out the right way to say this. Damn, this is even more awkward than he thought.

“I was, um, actually hoping to get some advice? Like… relationship advice?”

He glances at Nanami, who’s watching him with his usual steady gaze, then looks back at you, unsure how to continue.

You exchange a look with your husband before patting the chair next to you, gesturing for Yuji to take a seat with a bright smile and a slight blush creeping up your oh so gorgeous face. No wonder even Nanami-sensei fell head over heels for you.

“Of course, Yuji,” you reply, and there’s a softness in your voice that makes him feel like it’s okay to ask for help.

“What’s going on?”

Yuji sinks into the chair, cheeks still tinged pink as he starts to fidget with his fingers. There’s no turning back now.

“There’s this girl. She’s… she’s really nice and funny and strong, and she’s got this great smile and I, uh…”

He takes a breath, unsure how to continue without sounding like an idiot.

“I think I like her. I just don’t know how to… you know, tell her.”

Nanami raises an eyebrow, clearly listening but keeping quiet, letting you take the lead. He never thought that someone like Yuji would ask him for advice in something apart from sorcery. But on the other hand…

Nanami’s gaze drifts over you, your warm and welcoming features, how you take in every little thing Yuji says with those little reassuring nods. If there’s someone who’s able to help Yuji, it has to be you. After all, you were the first woman in his life that swept him off his feet.

You smile, leaning forward a little in order to make Yuji feel more comfortable.

“That’s exciting, Yuji. I’m glad you’re thinking about it, even if it feels a little intimidating. Do you know if she might feel the same way?”

Yuji shrugs, grinning sheepishly.

“I have no idea. I think we get along, but I don’t want to make things weird, you know?”

“Understandable,” Nanami throws in, voice calm and composed.

“Rushing into something like this can make things awkward, especially if you don’t fully understand how she feels. But it’s also not wrong to want to make your intentions clear if you truly like her.”

You nod in agreement, a little surprised by the way your usually so quiet husband now took the lead to give his student relationship advice.

“Exactly. Sometimes, a small step can give you some clarity on how she feels too. You don’t have to go all in at once.”

Yuji looks at you both thoughtfully, clearly absorbing every word.

“But how? Like, I don’t know what to say to her. Should I… compliment her or something?”

You chuckle softly, trying to keep your tone light so he doesn’t feel embarrassed.

“Well, a genuine compliment never hurts. But maybe instead of going straight for it, just try spending a little more time with her first. Get a sense of her interests, things she’s passionate about. You’re naturally friendly, Yuji, so use that to your advantage.”

Yuji’s eyes widen, like a lightbulb just went off in his head.

“That… actually makes sense! If I ask her about stuff she likes, then maybe she’ll see I’m interested, right?”

“Exactly,” you reply, smiling at his enthusiasm.

“And if she responds positively, you can build up to saying something more direct. Just be yourself - that’s probably what she likes about you anyway.”

He nods, almost bouncing with excitement, but then his face falls slightly, concern creeping back in.

“But what if she… doesn’t like me like that?”

Nanami speaks up again, his voice even but warm.

“Rejection is a part of life, Yuji. If it happens, it doesn’t weaken your worth. It just means she’s not ready or interested, and that’s okay. You’ll still be the same person with the same good qualities.”

You reach out, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, a sudden wave of pride rushing over you. When you first met Kento, everyone around you kept telling you that it’ll never work out, that he’ll never feel the same way about you, that he’s cold as ice. But especially moments like this show you more than urgently what a kind heart your husband truly has and why you fell in love with him straight away.  

“And remember, we’re here for you no matter what. But you might be surprised - she may already be hoping you’d say something.”

Yuji takes a deep breath, letting your words sink in. The blush on his cheeks deepens, but there’s a new determination in his eyes.

“Alright,” he says, more to himself than to either of you.

“I think… I think I can do this. I’ll try to talk to her more, see what she likes, and maybe, if it feels right, I’ll tell her.”

Both you and Nanami nod, clearly proud of him.

“Good,” you response, squeezing his shoulder gently.

“And let us know how it goes.”

Yuji grins, his usual spark returning to his face as he stands up, looking more energized than he has in days.

“Thanks, you guys. Really. This… this means a lot to me.”

With that, he heads out of the office, leaving you and Nanami exchanging a fond look. There’s something special about watching Yuji grow, about seeing him cope with feelings as regular as a high school crush even amidst the chaos of jujutsu life.

After he leaves, you let out a soft sigh.

“It’s so nice to see him think about something other than fighting for a change.”

Nanami chuckles.

“Yes. Though, if he’s anything like you were when we met, I imagine he’ll be quite charming in his attempts.”

You laugh, nudging his shoulder lightly.

“And if he’s anything like you, he’ll be both charming and a bit stubborn. But I think he’ll figure it out. He’s got a good heart.”

Bonus:

Days later, Yuji catches you in the hallway, an excited smile breaking across his face as he rushes over to you.

“Hey! I… I tried what you said,” he shouts, his eyes bright.

“Oh?”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued.

“How did it go?”

“She actually seemed really interested! We talked about some of her favorite movies, and I told her about my favorite songs, and it just… it felt natural, you know?”

He rubs the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly.

“And then, before I could overthink it, I just kind of… told her I liked her. And… she said she liked me too!”

Your face lights up with pride and warmth, feeling a surge of happiness for him.

“Yuji, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

He laughs, a sound full of relief.

“Thank you. I mean, I couldn’t have done it without your help. I was so nervous, but you guys helped me feel like it was okay to just go for it. Now… now I feel like I can face anything!”

“Not that you couldn’t already,” you reply with a grin, giving his shoulder a congratulatory squeeze.

“You’re braver than you think, Yuji. Just remember, relationships are like fighting in their own way. It takes work and patience, but it’s worth it.”

“I’ll remember that,” he promises, his gaze filled with determination.

And as he heads off down the hall, you’re left with a smile on your face, proud of the young man who continues to grow not just as a sorcerer, but as a person.

A voice brings you out of your thoughts - Nanami, who’s been standing nearby, watching the exchange with a slight smile.

“You have a way with these kids,” he says, his voice gentle.

You turn to him, warmth filling your chest as you take his hand.

“Only because I’ve had a good example to follow.”

He squeezes your hand, his gaze softening as he looks down at you.

“I’d say you’re a natural. And who knows,” he adds with a rare hint of humor, “maybe Yuji’s just opened up the floodgates. We might find ourselves with more ‘romantic advice’ consultations soon.”

You chuckle, leaning into him.

“I think I’d be okay with that. These kids face so much danger. They deserve a little happiness too.”

With a fond smile, Nanami nods, and you both watch as Yuji disappears down the hall, excitement carrying him forward into this new chapter of his life. And for just a moment, everything feels peaceful, like you’re all part of something beautiful in the middle of the storm.

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[alwaysmoncheri]

can I request something for spencer?? I know you haven’t written for him in a while but I love him sm🥺

I literally forgot decaf coffee existed when writing this. thank you for requesting, muah! <3

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, slight lack of self-care, fluff, 1k

<3

Derek watches you walk through the office doors—if you could even call it that—you shuffle through the doors, hand resting on the bump of your growing stomach. The other clutches a stack of files to your chest. There’s a frown upon your lips, you look exhausted. Hair slightly disheveled, and blouse partially untucked, you’re clearly in need of some time off, but you’re trying your best. 

On a normal day, Spencer would be right by your side. Brushing the hair from your face, leaving a lingering kiss to your temple. He would take the files and gently guide you to your desk. You’d beg for a small coffee, and he’d remind you that, “Drinking more than 200 mg of caffeine per day during pregnancy has been linked to an increased risk of pregnancy complications, such as low birth weight and miscarriage.” You’d shut up after that. Not that Spencer meant to scare you—but you always are. 

You’re scared about those things, the what-ifs. At the beginning people are happy for you, always wishing you congrats and sending smiles your way. It’s supposed to be that way, it’s exciting, you’re carrying the result of yours and Spencer’s love—another life. But the whispers always find their way to you. You’ve heard the talk about the chances of miscarriages—that no pain could ever compare to carrying a baby for months only to lose it during childbirth. 

On a normal day, Spencer would be there to silence your worries. But, today he’s in a meeting. A stupid meeting. It makes you want to cry. 

Derek notices your eyes tearing up and stands from his desk. Blocking the path to yours. He grimaces when you almost collide into his chest. You blink a couple of times, like you hadn’t even known he stood up. Now, you’re exhausted, sad and embarrassed—not a good combo. 

 “How’s our girl doing?” Derek hums with a careful smile, offering a hand to guide you to your desk. You grumble something incoherent, shooting him a quick look. A second later he’s out of your path, allowing you a straight shot to the coffee machine.

You clutch a mug, the heat against your hands comforting. A sigh leaves your body, and your shoulders relax. You’re about to take a sip of your coffee before it’s snatched away from you. You pratically moan at it’s absense, before narrowing your eyes at the traitor in front of you. 

“You can’t be having this,” Emily says simply before taking a sip of your coffee. Your blood boils. 

“Give it back,” you demand, placing your hands on your hips to look as threatening as possible. You can’t imagine how effective it is, though, given your current state—but you’re determined.

“Nuh, uh,” she tuts, pulling the mug away from you. You watch her step back and dump the hot liquid into the sink. God, you’re too tired for this. 

“I can just make another.” you shrug, reaching for the other mug resting on the counter. When Emily snatches that one from you too, your head lulls back, and you groan in annoyance. 

“Nope,” she shakes her head with an amused smile tugging at her lips. You swear, this has to be her deah wish, “Spencer will kill me if I let you do that.”

“He wouldn’t.” You argue, but it’s really a desperate plea. 

Emily raises her eyebrows at you, “Yes. He would.” she says, emphasizing each word. You roll your eyes but give in—you know she’s right. 

“Fine,” you mumble, throwing a final glare in her direction before turning to hobble over to your desk.

The rest of the day is long. Your co-workers watch the way you wince when Hotch calls someone into his office, voice booming across the room. They watch as you slump at your desk, your head propped up by your hand, trying—unsuccessfully—to keep your eyes open enough to focus on the documents in front of you. After a while, Penelope approaches, her smile wide, and a glass of water in hand. Her cheerfulness only makes your head throb harder. You gently brush her off, taking the water with a quiet sigh. You wish you didn’t feel this way—but your sour mood only worsens by the hour. 

Then, finally, your savior arrives. 

Almost the entire office visibly relaxes when Spencer emerges from the meeting room. He looks panicked, like he’s more worried about being without you than you without him—the truth is the latter. His eyes sift through the office before finding you at your desk, slumped and half asleep. His eyes soften and his shoulders drop. You’re still breathtaking—though when he tells you that, you only protest. Long strides bring him to you, and just like on a normal day, he’s by your side. 

A gentle hand in between your shoulder blades brings his presence to your attention. You tilt your head up while his other hand brushes your hair out of your face. Then, he presses his lips to your temple, like he always does—it makes you smile. 

You wrap your arms around his waist, and Spencer’s bent at an especially awkward angle, but it doesn’t bother him. 

“Spencer,” you sigh, the weight of every negative emotion from earlier lifting off your shoulders. Pressing your face into his chest, you breathe in the comfort of his warmth.

“Hi, honey.” he returns, rubbing small circles on the small of your back. You say something into his chest that doesn’t quite reach his ears. 

“Hm?” he hums, asking you to repeat yourself. Nearby, Derek’s mouth hangs agape when you do without protest. 

“I missed you.”

Spencer presses a kiss into your hair, “I missed you too.”

You’re both silent for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s embrace. But eventually, Spencer shifts, wincing as his back aches, and gently pulls away. In turn, he kneels in front of you, hands resting on your thighs. 

“Have you had anything to drink today?” He asks simply—out of habit. Your smile again, he’s always trying to take care of you. 

“A little.”

There’s no hesitation before he’s on his feet, “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

“No, no, wait.” you protest, catching his hand, “Just stay for a minute.”

Spencer can’t bring himself to say no. 

So, he pulls up a chair, and the two of you settle in, working side by side at your desk until the end of the day. Hotch, watching from his office, would normally call out the inappropriate behavior—but today, he decides to let it slide. Just this once.

<3

masterlist . spencer reid masterlist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[colormepurplex2]

Golden Cufflinks | JJK

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

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

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

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hayun!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I doing the right thing?”

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hayun, I don’t—”

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

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

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

“Hayun, I-I-I don’t…I’m not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🥀🥀🥀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hayun, we need to talk.”

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

“What? No!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” Jungkook says wearily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So,” you parrot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, nah. I’m okay, thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you feel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🥀🥀🥀

Jungkook, 3 months later

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🥀🥀🥀

Those words do something to you.

I need more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?” you gasp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hoshifighting]

Hiiii! I was wondering if you could do a reaction of svt where the s/o gets in an argument with a man, and stands face to face proving their point to the guy ? And after svt just found it hot?

Thank you ! Take your time with everything, and just know I appreciate what you do!!🫶🏼

seungcheol: standing tall right next to you, arms crossed and glaring, he lets you do your thing, but he’s this close to stepping in, just in case. he’s practically pulsing, both from the need to protect you and from the heat of watching you hold your ground. honestly, he’s getting turned on by the fire in your eyes. he keeps his cool on the outside, but on the inside? he’s a mess, ready to handle things himself, but also ready to handle you right after.

jeonghan: oh, he’s got no time for this dude. he’s so mad at the guy that he just grabs your hand and walks away, mumbling something about “saving the poor guy from humiliation.” but once you’re alone, he’s practically begging you to use that fire on him next.

joshua: he steps in halfway, putting an arm between you and the guy with a calm look, body language all possessive. he tries to gently calm you down, but he’s clearly enjoying your stance, looking at you like you’re the hottest thing he’s ever seen. every word you say just turns him on more—for more degrading they are.

junhui: just watching in awe, the longer it goes on, the more he’s biting his lip, looking you up and down like he’s in heat. after the argument, he wraps an arm around you, muttering about hot it was, you can bet he’ll remind you of this later.

hoshi: probably started the fight in the first place, either from saying something too loud or getting a bit too hyped. but once you step in and take over, he’s standing behind you, practically leaking cum in his pants. he’s grinning from seeing you put the guy in his place. he’s the type to lean in after and mutter, “remind me not to get on your bad side.”

wonwoo: he won’t let you get too close to the guy, immediately trying to guide you away, even if you’re still talking smack at the guy as he’s pulling you off. every time you keep arguing while he’s pulling you away, his cheeks flush, and he’s smiling to himself, already feeling the cock growing inside his pants. he’s both entertained and turned on, sneaking little glances at you as he thinks, “damn, that’s my partner. should i be proud or scared?”

woozi: he’s standing right behind you, fists clenched just in case, ready to step in if the guy even flinches wrong. but he’s also secretly smiling because he’s so damn proud. every time you fire back at the guy, woozi bites back a grin, watching the force in your posture. cant keep his hands off you by the time you walk away.

minghao: casually stands behind you, hands on your arms, his body pressed close as you argue, with a little smirk because he’s totally enjoying the show. he loves how fierce you are, and your ass pressing on him, it’s not doing him any favors. he whispers a “we’ll talk about this later,” already planning to scold you and make out with you the second you’re alone.

mingyu: he’s watching you like he doesn’t know whether to be afraid or turned on. even though he’s towering over the guy, he’s so flustered, shifting nervously between shield you and euphoria of seeing you all fired up. he can’t help but ask later, all red-faced, “could you, uh, maybe be that mad at me… later?” definitely into the idea of you riding him while still a bit mad.

seokmin: is this really happening? he thinks. he just watches in awe, face redder by the second. after the argument, he’s pulling you close, trying to act calm but flustered. he’s stammering about how amazing you were, but also afraid to stress you more. “you know, babe… that was, um, really hot.”

seungkwan: he’s fighting with you, no doubt. he’s already arguing with the guy, and you jumping in just fuels him more. after the argument, he’s all horny, both from the confrontation and the way you backed him up. rage sex is basically guaranteed.

vernon: he’s standing there, jaw dropped, just watching you handle things. he’s too stunned to move, his face saying it all: his cock is about to explode alone, no touch. he doesn’t say much afterward, but he’ll definitely be pulling you aside later, needy, unable to stop thinking about how godly insane you lookwd

chan: he’s shocked, honestly, but also totally in awe. his eyes are wide as he watches you lay into the guy, he can’t help but give a proud little smile, he’s got a newfound respect (and a little crush) on you afterwards. would be teasing you about how scary you were but secretly blushing because he’s hot to trot.

[hanjiwuver]

can can i request how they deal with boners in public? or like, how they deal with you turning them out (intentionally or unintentionally)

Skz Headcannons:

turning them on in public ~*

OT8 x reader HCS..

warnings: degredation, exibitionism, frottism, very tame?

your order is ready☺️ smut below the cut!!!!!!!!!

Chris:

• shy and giggly. he can’t believe half the stuff thats coming out of your mouth! (as if he hasn’t said worse)

• he’ll be hiding his red face in his hands and doing that cute squeaky giggle he always does🤭

• when he actually does get hard though, he’ll be looking around and crossing his legs, accidentally gaining a bit of friction from his jeans on his hard cock.

• but be careful, he’s a teaser too😖

•he wont make you regret it, he’ll just play along until you’re dripping and begging to go home

• (hes gonna find excuses to stay longer to get back at you)

“oh, so now you wanna go home, hm? i don’t know…ask me later. or beg me now, maybe ill decide then.”

Minho:

• will 100% laugh at your pitiful attempts to get him hard.

• he’ll just watch you with a smug/bored look on his face while you just end up riling yourself up.

• if his body ends up betraying him and he in fact is hard, he still won’t appear embarassed.

• if anything, he’ll grab your hand and have you feeling up his cock through his pants like the whore you wanted to be that day.

“did you have your fun, kitty? or did the poor slut get herself needy and wants me to take resposibility?”

Changbin:

• flustered and side eyeing you.

• he’s shifting in his chair and rubbing his plush thighs together, begging you silently to stop talking.

• its not difficult to make him hard, he never forgets the way you look on top of him, so teasing him with that image in public is torture!

• it’s when you start ghosting your hands over his cock that he’s immediately asking for the check and grabbing his keys😭 he does NAWT wanna do that shit in public but he’s literally this close to bending you over.

“let me take you home? i just need your hands, please? ill treat you so good, i promise, just let me take you back home?”

Hyunjin:

• thinks it’s kinda fun, treats it like a game/competition.

• he can hold out pretty well, but alas he’s just a boy😔

• it’s like his default setting to be inside you so he isn’t going to last very long. he just wants to feel his sweet girl.

• he’ll hide it, but will definetly show it you purposefully. he’ll lean back on something, exposing his hard on to you, biting his lip as he watches your reaction.

• or he’ll pull you into a bathroom stall and press his clothed bulge into your tummy, looking down at it and holding your hands. wants nothing more than to see your nails running along his long, hard cock.

“look how hard you made me, hm? want it? think it’s pretty? you made it, so i think it’s pretty. my little artist.”

Han:

• poor baby tries so hard to resist.

• he’s shying away from your hands and whining at you to stop when you tease him with words.

• he could never comepletely say no to you though, so he’ll let you palm his cock for a while.

• he’s arching and subtly grinding up into your hand. biting his lip while his cock leaks, trying not to get caught.

• he tries his best not to make any sounds, but he still lets whiny sighs slip through his mouth. ends up cumming in his pants anyway, only wanting to go home so he could change😭

“ah..shit..can- can i cum? or should we..go home? fuck..it’s too late. don’t stop- cumming!”

Felix:

• he doesn’t get it. he doesn’t understand why you would be saying all of these filthy things and feeling him up in public?

• he just thought you must be feeling needy. he reaches his hand over in pity, thumbing at your clothed clit and looking around to not get caught.

• your words do get to him though. as soon as you call him a few names he’s chubbing up in his pants.

• when you reach a hand over to him too, he realizes how suspicious this looks in public and just decides to finally take you home.

“aw, my poor girl. c’mere, ill make you feel as good as i can while were out. unless you wanna go home? no? my baby wants people watching?”

Seungmin:

• also shy about it.

• he doesn’t care much about the words (even if they do get his leg bouncing)

• its when you start touching him that he gets him wide eyed and flushed.

• he’ll grab your wrist and whisper-yell things like “you can’t do that, were in public!” at you.

• he’ll squeeze his legs shut and look at you with a slight sheen of excitement in his eyes. he’ll start stroking your ankle with the tip of his shoe, while resting his head on his hands. he’ll play along a bit for now.

“hm? what? am i not allowed to play with you too? touching me and saying such filthy things in my ear, who taught you that, huh? such a slut.”

Jeongin:

• he’s amused, but still suprised at your boldness.

• he has a wide smile on his face, mouth hanging open and his hand dramatically pushing you off of him.

• will deadass run away like he doesn’t know you

• if he gets hard oh lord he’s hunting you down.

• he doesn’t care if you’re in a bookstore, he’s finding the isle you’re on and dragging you out😭

• he’s laughing like he can’t believe that just happened, but trust your pussy is done for when you get home.

“yah! look what you did! couldn’t wait 10 minutes could you? eager slut. im taking you home, and you’re fixing this.”

[itaipava]

— f1 boys and their moments of quiet admiration for you.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

observing you laughter from afar: he always thought your laugh was the most beautiful thing in the world, but at that moment he knew for sure. you were so free and happy with your friends that you didn’t even notice him looking at you with a huge smile on his face; the way your face lights up while you’re laughing wholeheartedly without a care in the world... his eyes shine with a feeling of warmth and joy just seeing you happy; all he wants is to make you the happiest person in the world so that that beautiful smile never leaves your face.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

watching you sleep peacefully: amidst so many things in his life, he cherishes every peaceful moment by your side. so when he wakes up in the morning and sees you sleeping so peacefully next to him, it makes his heart melt a little in his chest. he lies on his side and admires every beautiful detail of you for a few minutes; how your breathing is so calm, your hair on your face, your eyes closed and your mouth so, so perfect. he gently brushes a few strands of your hair from your face and caresses your cheek, just enjoying this simple moment with you while feeling a deep, peaceful connection.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

the way you speak about what you love: he loves listening to everything you say, but he loves it even more when you talk about your passions and dreams; seeing the fire in your eyes and the way you smile with excitement and love makes his heart race in his chest and a huge smile appears on his lips. he doesn’t say it, but in those moments he feels a sense of gratitude and joy for being able to see this side of you that he admires so much.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

silently watching you work on something important: whether it’s a creative project for work, cooking, or even a small task, he loves to admire you from afar. he loves your expressions and how beautiful you are without even knowing it. your dedication and skills in your movements; he likes to make mental notes of your mannerisms and little things you do that make you so unique. it’s in these moments that he gets completely lost in you and could look at you for hours.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

noticing how you carry yourself in public: seeing you interact with others with confidence, humor, and kindness makes his heart race in his chest, in those moments, he finds you more beautiful than ever; how much you stand out from others just by being you. he feels a swell of pride and love in knowing that you are his, and how incredibly beautiful you are.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

taking in your appearance when you’re not looking: he simply loves looking at you and noticing your little details; how your hair falls, how your hand rests gently on the table, how you concentrate while putting on makeup or skincare. quietly appreciating how naturally beautiful you are in every situation and he never gets tired of it; of looking at you and thinking you’re the most beautiful person in the world.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

feeling grateful when you show kindness to other: he silently watches you being kind or helpful to someone else and in those moments he realizes how much he admires you as a person, and how beautiful your heart is. he learns a lot from you and values ​​that immensely; to him, you couldn’t be more perfect.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

admiring you lost in thought: he can’t help but stare at you while you’re working. the way your expression changes with every thought or idea, how quickly you type on the computer, how you roll your eyes and sigh when something goes wrong... he smiles from afar, admiring how beautiful you look in these simple moments. he could spend all day like this, observing how gorgeous you are and how thoughtful and passionate you are about what you do.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

holding your hand and just looking at you: sitting together in comfortable silence while he’s holding your hand and watching you without words, letting his gaze express all the affection he feels. he doesn’t hide the fact that he’s admiring you, but he also don’t stop when you get embarrassed and ask him what he’s looking at. he just likes to look at you, admire you and memorize every single detail of you.