#losing my mind week 11

[theboredbori]

Stay your pretty eyes on course

[reginaldkoettlitz]

is there anything better to lull you to sleep than the incredible sadness and despair that fills you when you think about those last 11 miles

[dollarstoreartsupplies]

the charlie bone series is jam packed with so many children who have intense cases of fascinating-little-guy disease

[b-lessings]

The worst part of being at my parents' house, like the absolute worse, the most horrible thing, beyond being away from hubby and missing him so much, beyond missing my own space and having control over my day, it's that I am surrounded by triggers, major childhood traumas coming up at random times and messing with my barely-holding-on psyche, and living on survival mode for too long. Ya rab, this soul is tired and you are Al-Qader Al-Jabbar ya rab ..

[miserye]

i was wondering why i was so tired and it turns out it's my bedtime

[crescentfool]

doing things outside of your usual is such a humbling experience...

[ruvviks]

you ever get so upset you just wanna fucking THROW UPPPP

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m���ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[cicadidae-tm9899]

Kms dude i want that stupid garfield pillow pet SO BAD but I'm POOR

[pears-trinkets]

.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

The far right grows through “disaster fantasies”

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/25/mall-ninja-prophecy/#mano-a-mano">https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/25/mall-ninja-prophecy/#mano-a-mano

The core of the prepper fantasy: "What if the world ended in the precise way that made me the most important person?" The ultra-rich fantasize about emerging from luxury bunkers with an army of mercs and thumbdrives full of bitcoin to a world in ruins that they restructure using their "leadership skills."

The ethnographer Rich Miller spent his career embedding with preppers, eventually writing the canonical book of the fantasies that power their obsessions, Dancing at Armageddon: Survivalism and Chaos in Modern Times:

https://www.press.uchicago.edu/ucp/books/book/chicago/D/bo3637295.html

Miller recounts how the disasters that preppers prepare for are the disasters that will call upon their skills, like the water chemist who's devoted his life to preparing to help his community recover from a terrorist attack on its water supply; and who, when pressed, has no theory as to why any terrorist would stage such an attack:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/03/22/preppers-are-larpers/#preppers-unprepared

Prepping is what happens when you are consumed by the fantasy of a terrible omnicrisis that you can solve, personally. It's an individualistic fantasy, and that makes it inherently neoliberal. Neoliberalism's mind-zap is to convince us all that our only role in society is as an individual ("There is no such thing as society" – M. Thatcher). If we have a workplace problem, we must bargain with our bosses, and if we lose, our choices are to quit or eat shit. Under no circumstances should we solve labor disputes through a union, especially not one that wins strong legal protections for workers and then holds the government's feet to the fire.

Same with bad corporate conduct: getting ripped off? Caveat emptor! Vote with your wallet and take your business elsewhere. Elections are slow and politics are boring. But "vote with your wallet" turns retail therapy into a form of civics.

This individualistic approach to problem solving does useful work for powerful people, because it keeps the rest of us thoroughly powerless. Voting with your wallet is casting a ballot in a rigged election that's always won by the people with the thickest wallets, and statistically, that's never you. That's why the right is so obsessed with removing barriers to election spending: the wealthy can't win a one-person/one-vote election (to be in the 1% is to be outnumbered 99:1), but unlimited campaign spending lets the wealthy vote in real elections using their wallets, not just just ballots.

You can't recycle your way out of the climate emergency. Practically speaking, you can't even recycle. All those plastics you lovingly washed and sorted ended up in a landfill or floating in the ocean. Plastics recycling is a hoax perpetrated by the petrochemical industry, who knew all along that their products would never be recycled. These despoilers convinced us to view the systemic rot of corporate ecocide as an individual matter, chiding us about "littering" and exhorting us to sort our garbage:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/14/they-knew/#doing-it-again

We are bombarded by real problems that require urgent solutions that can only be resolved through collective action, which we are told is impossible. This is an objectively frightening state of affairs, and it makes people go nuts.

At the start of this century, in the weeks before 9/11, a message-board poster calling himself Gecko45 went Web 1.0 viral by earnestly bullshitting about his job as a mall security guard, doing battle with heavily armed gangs, human traffickers, and ravening monsters. Gecko45's posts were unhinged: he started out seeking advice for doubling up on body-armor to protect him while he deployed his smoke bombs and his partner assembled a high-powered rifle. Though Gecko45 was apparently sincere, he drew tongue-in-cheek replies from the other posters on GlockTalk, who soon dubbed him the "Mall Ninja":

https://lonelymachines.org/mall-ninjas/

The Mall Ninja professed to patrolling a suburban shopping mall while armed with 15 firearms as he carried out his duties as "Sergeant of a three-man Rapid Tactical Force at one of America’s largest indoor retail shopping areas." His qualifications? Mastery "of three martial arts including ninjitsu, which means I can wear the special boots to climb walls."

The Mall Ninja's fantasy of a single brave individual, defending the sleepy populace from violent, armed mobs is instantly recognizable as an ancestor to today's right wing fantasy of America's cities as "no-go zones" filled with "open air drug markets," patrolled by MS-13 and antifa super-soldiers. And while the Mall Ninja drew derision – even from the kinds of people who hang out on a message board called "GlockTalk" – today, his brand of fantasy wins elections.

On Jacobin, Olly Haynes interviews the political writer Richard Seymour about this phenomenon:

https://jacobin.com/2024/11/disaster-nationalism-fantasies-far-right/

Seymour's latest book is Disaster Nationalism:The Downfall of Liberal Civilization, an exploration of the strange obsessions of the right with imaginary disasters in the midst of real ones:

https://www.versobooks.com/en-gb/products/3147-disaster-nationalism

You know these imaginary disasters: "FEMA death camps, 'great replacement theory,' the 'Great Reset,' fifteen-minute cities, 5G towers being beacons of mind control, and microchips installed in people through vaccines." As Seymour writes, these conspiracy fantasies are proliferated by authoritarian regimes and their supporters, especially as real disasters rage around them.

For example, during the Oregon wildfires, people who were threatened by blazing forests that hit 800'C refused to evacuate because they'd been convinced that the fires were set by antifa arsonists in a bid to "wipe out white conservative Christians." They barricaded themselves in their fire-threatened homes, brandishing guns and prepping for the antifa mob.

Seymour says that this "disaster nationalism" "processes disaster in a way that is actually quite enlivening." Confronted with the helplessness of a real disaster that can only be solved through the collective action you've been told is both impossible and a Communist plot, you retreat to an individualistic disaster fantasy that you can play an outsized role in. Every crisis – the climate emergency, poverty, a toxic environment – is replaced by "bad people" and you can go get them.

For authoritarian politicians, a world of bad people at the gates who can only be stopped by "the good guys" makes for great politics. It impels proto-fascist movements to electoral victories, all over the world: in the US, of course, but Seymour also analyzes this as the phenomenon behind the electoral victories of authoritarian ethno-nationalists in India, Israel, Brazil, and all over the world.

I find Seymour's analysis bracing and clarifying. It explains the right's tendency to obsess over the imaginary at the expense of the real. Think of conservatives' obsession with imaginary and hypothetical children, from Qanon's child trafficking conspiracies to the forced birth movement's fixation on "the unborn."

It's not just that these kids don't exist – it's that the right is either indifferent or actively hostile to real children. Qanon peaked at the same time as Trump's "kids in cages" family separation policy, which saw thousands of kids separated from their parents, many forever, as a deliberate policy.

The forced birth movement spent decades fighting to overturn Roe in the name of saving "the unborn" – even as its leaders were also overturning the Child Tax Credit, the most successful child poverty alleviation measure in American history. Actual children were left to sink into food insecurity and precarity, to be enlisted to work overnight shifts in meat-packing plants, to fall into homelessness – even as the movement celebrated the "culture of life" that would rescue hypothetical children.

Lifting kids out of poverty and building a world where parents can afford to raise as many children as they care to have is a collective endeavor. Firebombing abortion clinics or storming into a pizza parlor with an assault rifle is an individual rescue fantasy that escapes into the world.

Mall Ninja politics are winning.

[dragonowlie]

What wouldn't I give for a good vegetable soup right fucking now

[awrkive]

WARM NIGHTS & CLEAR LINES — JJK (m.)

there haven't been a lot of people who have come into your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect jeon jungkook to be one if it – not at all. but what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so.

or; your first "i love you" comes out completely wrong.

PAIRING cnbl!jungkook x cnbl!female reader

GENRE r18+ (SMUT, fluff) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

WORD COUNT 11k of pure fluffy and smutty nonsense 😍 literally 90% of this is smut

WARNINGS/MISC fluff galore, cnbl jk is the father of all simps all men need to be like him fr, angst if u squint but like not really 😭, oc's tendencies to be avoidant of her feelings show up lol i still love u saur, best boy cnbl jk ):, he will disintegrate if he cant call her by a petname [ explicit sexual content: unprotected s*x (its just a fanfic its not that serious), panty sniffing (like very quick), dirty talking lol, c*nnilingus, they hold hands during it <3, VERY SLIGHT foot action but like its very fleeting lol u dont need to worry about it lmfao, multiple s*x positions, cowgirl position cos her eyes are pretty trope, good ole cre*mpies ], L b*mb drop and an ily kink develops. literally every paragraph theres an ily crying. anyways i think thats all feel free to inform me if i left out any

NOTES i have like 11 asks on my inbox asking about how cnbl couple is and what their label is are they official now etc etc and they've sitting there since bush administration </3 after two years of drought we are finally so back. i purposefully didnt answer any of th asks since i want to make a drabble for when they finally make things official so this is it awrkive nation🩷 this can be read as a standalone?? but like pls read cnbl first lol (also i thought i ate this title when i thought about it but now i realize it kinda sounds ass but its 2am so give me some slack. also this is unedited skjfdjkfhdk AND this will also be my last post before i go mia for the next few weeks due to big life happenings. leave ur thoughts in my inbox or reply section to get a cnbl jk to go🫂

ORIGINAL STORY [CNBL] | MAIN MASTERLIST

Jungkook loves when he gives it to you slow. Loves the heavy breathes that puff out of your mouth, the drawl out moans that give your mouth that lovely, erotic O-shape which image burns in his head for the next few days (two days, at the very least), and the way he can feel the exact moment when you clench and unclench around the ridges of his hard cock. 

But he also loves it when he jackhammers into your pussy, pounding in and out of it at a quick pace that your eyes roll to the back of your head, your fingers digging into his skin (or scalp), the staccato rhythm of your “oh”s and “ah”s that sound like real music to his ears, and the way your mouth hangs open as you utter sweet gibberish into the air because the pleasure he’s giving you feels too much. 

“Give it to me, give it to me,” you whisper against his mouth. On your back, you’re sprawled across his bed, your thighs resting on the crook of Jungkook’s elbows as he pounds  into you like he’s trying to win a contest.

There’s dried up tears on the side of your eyes, your lips swollen from the way you’ve been kissing for minutes, and Jungkook finds it hard to focus on one thing when you have your pussy gripping around him like a fucking vice, your breasts bouncing at his every quick thrust, and your pretty face looking at him like you just want nothing but cock. 

“Y-yeah, fuck—” Jungkook grunts, repeating the same motion of fucking into you at a pace so fast he can hear his bedframe hitting the wall when he thrusts back. He grips your thighs tight, veins popping out of his arms. “You like this, baby? Love when I fuck you quick and fast?” 

You nod your head, bottom lip caught in your teeth, looking up at him with those hooded eyes that Jungkook is near to losing his goddamn mind. God, you’re so fucking pretty it genuinely hurts him. Most especially his dick.

“Am I fucking you stupid, angel?” He slides out, and then enters you abruptly, making you cry out in pleasure. “I'm taking care of you so good you can't think straight, huh? Hm?’

“Y-yes!” You squeak out, grabbing to try and hold onto his biceps. Jungkook leans forward so you can find leverage on his body, his dick hitting deeper into your core at the movement. At the mewl that you let out, he stretches your legs higher until you almost feel like you’re being folded in half, with Jungkook jackhammering his dick into your tight pussy. 

"S-so good…" you whimpered, almost out of breath. 

Jungkook groans at the pretty sound. “Ngh– I feel fucking good, too, baby. You're so fucking pretty. Squeeze those tits for me.”

You oblige, grabbing your boobs and squishing them together. Jungkook revels at the sight, wanting nothing but to burn every second in memory. Sometimes, he wishes he can have some sort of copy of you two doing this… just a little something for your own private enjoyment. He hasn’t brought it up to you, mostly because he thinks you won’t necessarily be into the idea as much as he is. Will probably say no, or be partial to it at best.

Next time. He tells himself. 

“Fuck, fuck – fuck!” Jungkook grunts, sliding in and out of you, picking up his pace more, beginning to sound delirious at the sensation of your walls fluttering around his cock. It’s impossible the way you just grow tighter every second, clenching around him like you don’t have any intentions of letting go. 

“J-Jungkook—!” You cry out, arms reaching out for him, and when Jungkook sees the small stream of tears falling out from your eyes again, he can’t help but fuck you senseless. “Oh my god– ah– fuck, i-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop.” 

He continues his movements, pounding into your pussy, tightening his hold on your hips. Your nails dig into his forearms, and your chest subtly moves up and down at every action that he makes. When you close your eyes, that’s when Jungkook knows that your climax is near, and so he stays consistent in his pace, just fucking into you deep and fast – just like how you like it now.

“Ah– there, Jungkook— oh god–!” You yelp, choking in your words, your pussy spasming around Jungkook’s cock until he feels that burst of hot white around his shaft. You reflexively let out a loud moan, but what you say next completely catches him off-guard. 

“It feels so good– I love you.” 

Jungkook staggers, dick slipping out of you momentarily at your sudden confession. But as he lets his gaze fall to your face, you have your eyes closed, lost in the moment, like how you usually are when you just orgasmed – and Jungkook knows he can’t talk to you at that state, nor can he ask to confirm what you just said.

So he looks down at where your bodies meet, shakily breathes when he sees the base of his cock getting covered in your cum, your juices dripping all over his dark sheets making a wet spot underneath you.

“F-fuck,” He hisses, quickening his pace to let himself go. 

He thinks about the sound of your “I love you”, how it falls prettily on your lips, and how good it would be to hear that one more fucking time.

Letting out a guttural groan, the thought completely tips him over the edge, and he grips his cock to shoot his cum into your swollen hole, painting your walls white just as you painted his shaft the same color with your own orgasm. 

Unexpectedly, he feels you gush the second time.

It’s cold and it’s hot at the same time – the sensation. It’s top three one of the best feelings a man could ever experience, and Jungkook is greedy – always greedy when it comes to you – that he pushes his cock back in to put it all in you, not wanting any to be wasted on the mattress. And just because he wants to hear that pretty moan from you again when he enters your cunt.

You do, making the hair on his body tingle. 

He drops down beside your body – more like on top of you, but a little off to the side – making sure to not put all his weight on you lest he hurts you. As usual, you receive him wholeheartedly with open arms, humming when he begins to suckle on your still rock-hard nipples, his hand shooting up to fondle the other one. Instantly, your hand caresses his hair.

“Kook.”

“Hm?” He hums against your breast. 

“I’m sore. Get your dick off me.” 

Jungkook frowns, but nonetheless acquiesces and slides out of you. He hisses when he feels your cum leaking out, about to insert a finger in you to stop it, but you take his temporary separation from you to stand up from the bed, leaving him on it alone. 

“Baby,” Jungkook calls – whines – really, looking at you with furrowed brows. 

You roll your eyes. “I’m not cockwarming you tonight. I’m going to the shower–” When you see him moving to get up from the bed as well, you shoot him a glare. “No. No funny business. I’ll just go clean up and you can too and then we’ll sleep.”

“I can clean you up.” Jungkook looks at you, wide-eyed. You look at him dryly. He sighs and then lets himself fall back to the bed, naked and all that, his dick still semi-hard against his stomach. “Okay, fine.” 

“Good.” 

He stares at your ass as you go to the bathroom, enjoying the view of your naked back before you disappear inside the room. 

Jungkook closes his eyes as he crosses his arms on the back of his head, thinking that maybe it’s good you didn’t let him in the shower with you because… how does he bring up the fact that you just said… it?

“I love you.” 

Did you… mean that? Like… you love him? Like, actually, love love him? 

It’s been eight months since your whole set up started. Four months of solely fucking and another four months of more fucking but you’ve actually both established that you like each other.

Of course, Jungkook feels more than that. He has for a long time now. He’s liked you since the first time you had sex and he started having deeper feelings for you every other day since then.

Needless to say, Jungkoon loves you.

Has for a long time now. 

But he didn’t say anything because he was scared that you would be scared. He felt like the luckiest guy on earth when you told him you liked him – and he felt pretty much untouchable when you two started exclusively dating each other four months ago. You’re definitely his girlfriend now and him your boyfriend – and sure, you haven’t had The Talk yet, but… now that you said you love him… that pretty much changes the course of everything…

Right? 

However, he finds himself pondering on it. 

Did you really mean that? Jungkook doesn’t think you’re the kind of person who just spout words as heavy as that confession, so you couldn’t have been insincere when you let that out. 

But… you were in the middle of sex, though. Did you just say it because you were in that position? Maybe you figured him out long ago now, have already known that he loves you, so you just said it to get him off? 

That’s probably not the case, he physically shakes his head. He knows that you know you don’t need to do anything else other than be underneath him or on top of him so he can release. Hell, your mere voice is even enough to tip him off the edge; there are countless incidents where he feels a certain kind of desperation for you, in the morning or in the middle of the night when you’re away and not in his arms, and he presses your name on his contact last, then what’s supposed to be an innocent call turns into something very much far from wholesome when he feels his dick twitch at the very sound of your voice and embarrassingly cums in his pants when you goad him about it. 

You know your tight hold on him. You don’t need to say I love you to get him off. 

But damn, did that really get him going more than usual.

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses, his head throbbing at the thoughts going haywire inside his head. His dick has calmed down now, soft in between his legs, and he’s starting to feel sticky, especially with the ruined sheets on his back. 

Standing up, he picks them up to put them in the hamper, grabbing a towel real quick to wrap around his lower half. 

When he finishes changing the bedsheets into fresh and clean ones, that’s when you step out of the shower. 

“I turned on the hot water for you.” You say, tightening your baby blue robe which is a pair of Jungkook’s own robe that he bought for you two two months ago.

Jungkook walks over to your direction and takes you by the waist to plant a quick kiss on your lips. 

“Thank you, angel,” he says. You give him a smile and he can’t help but give you a peck once again. “I made the bed.” 

“Thanks.” 

Jungkook stands there and he doesn’t notice that he’s staring until you point it out with an arched brow. 

“What?” 

With a surprised look, Jungkook takes himself out of his trance. “Oh, uh, nothing.” He gives you a hesitant smile. He’s actually thinking of asking you about the thing you said earlier. But right now, as he looks at you again, he finds himself a bit reluctant. “I’ll shower now.” 

You look at him weird and Jungkook chuckles as he leans down to kiss you again. 

When you break the contact, going over to his closet where a huge portion of your own clothes have already made its own way to, Jungkook thinks that maybe he’ll bring it up when he finishes showering. 

But as he steps back out of the shower ten minutes later, you’re already sprawled across the bed with your nightie on.

And as Jungkook steps closer to you, you’re fast asleep, soft snores coming out of your mouth, pretty and peaceful in your slumber. 

Jungkook smiles at the sight. 

Tomorrow. He’ll bring it up tomorrow instead. 

In the morning when Jungkook woke up, he didn't find you in his arms like he expected to. And when he looked through the notifications on his phone, your text told him that you already went for your 10 am class. Jungkook’s first one is at 2:30 in the afternoon. 

He intended to take you out for lunch in the afternoon, but when he called you, you said you had a meeting with your club and you’d only be free in the evening onwards. 

At 9:30pm, when all of Jungkook’s classes have ended, he sent you a text again, hoping you’d be free by the time. 

One whole day of not seeing your face and he was starting to feel a little on edge. 

[9:31pm] Jungkook: hi baby classes ended [9:31pm] Jungkook: hru i havent seen u at all today

Jungkook couldn’t help but send another one.

[9:32pm] Jungkook: i missed u. can i come over?

At that point, he was already over at the uni’s parking lot, going to the direction of his car and unlocking it when he got near. When he buckled himself into the driver’s seat, he hoped to see a reply from you. 

But nothing came.

When he arrived home at the end of the day, he took a quick half-bath and ate some leftovers in the fridge. 

As of now, as he settles himself onto his bed, he scrolls through your text thread, the Delivered button on his last text taunting him the longer he looks at it.

With furrowed brows, he begins to type up another message but then soon, the Delivered stamp changes to Read, and the three dancing dots on your end play on his screen, which somehow lightens his mood.

[10:45pm] princess🥰💓: Hello, Kook! So sorry for the late reply. I got caught up with classes and the long meeting with the club today [10:46pm] princess🥰💓: We apparently have to push the fall edition of the print a week earlier and I also have to revise some stuff in my thesis so I’m a bit tight on sched

Jungkook nods to himself upon reading the text message, feeling bad for you.

[10:47pm] Jungkook: ohh ic ic [10:47pm] Jungkook: do u want me to bring u food? 

[10:48pm] princess🥰💓: Like, youre coming over? 

[10:48pm] Jungkook: yeahh [10:48pm] Jungkook: if u want 

Jungkook waits as the bubbles appear and disappear on your end, until he receives your final reply.

[10:50pm] princess🥰💓: Hmm I appreciate it but Im over at Hana’s right now. Club stuff. And then I’ll go home later to work on my paper

Pouting, Jungkook sighs as he reads your message. He really wants to see you today… he misses your pretty face and your voice and your touch.

But he doesn’t really want to push. You’re very anal about your personal space, especially when it relates to your academics. 

Letting out another heavy sigh again, he tells you to give him a call when you’re at your place. 

He doesn't receive any.

“Hey,”

“What the—” You see the librarian from across the room immediately eyeing you with a deadly stare. Mouthing a shameful “sorry”, you clutch your chest, turning to the embodied voice again properly this time. Only to get taken aback. “Oh hey… hi.”

Jungkook stands in front of you and he looks so… handsome – nothing new or groundbreaking, per se. He always looks like that. With only a simple combo of grey hoodie and black cargo pants, his backpack slung over one shoulder, he can probably outmodel professionals on the runway. Though, the way he looks so comfy is making you want nothing but to snuggle him. 

“Busy day?” He asks, pertaining to the laptop and stack of books on your table. Placing his bag on the floor underneath the table, he takes the seat beside you. 

“Yeah… I'm writing an essay right now.” You offer him a small smile. It feels like you haven't seen each other for weeks, but the truth is, it's just been over two days since you were at his place.

“I see. Do you mind me here?”

“Nope. You can do whatever you want.”

"Can I kiss you then?" He asks and that makes you pause. 

Looking around, you take note that there aren’t a lot of people in the library anymore as it’s already late. There’s the librarian a few feet away from you, but he’s currently busy doing something on his computer. With a quiet chuckle, you face Jungkook and say, “Do you need to ask?” 

Jungkook shrugs, already leaning towards you. “I just feel like it.”

“It's fine, Kook.” you turn your head to him, and he does not waste any second, closing the gap between you both and capturing your lips in his for a soft kiss.

You sigh in his mouth. You miss him so much and he smells so good it calms your insides. You've been stressing over the essay you’re writing, but all that seems to die down as a result from the exchange with Jungkook.

God, you really need to talk to him. 

“Missed you.” He says once your faces are apart. He pecks your lips one more time for good measure and gives you that adorable bunny smile of his.

“We saw each other, like, two days ago.” You chuckle, making sure to muffle the sound.

Scooting his chair closer to you, Jungkook whines in your ear, “Too long.” When you look at his face, there's a small hint of pout on his lips. 

“Well, we're here now.”

“Really?” Jungkook raises his brow. “Then let's get out of here. You can write your essay at my place and I'll cook you dinner and then we can binge watch the third season of Twin Peaks.” 

“You haven't even started on the first season, why are you watching the third.” You say with an incredulous tone. 

“Doesn't matter.”

It does matter. 

Jungkook has driven you both to his place. When he turned on his TV, you told him you can just start Twin Peaks all over again so he can understand what he's watching, but he insisted that he was gonna know the context eventually – fast forward, he did not. So here he currently is, asking you who everybody is and what’s the context of what they’re saying, and as much as you love his company, people posing questions after questions while watching something will never not be a pet peeve of yours. 

“Baby,” you start. Jungkook looks at you with doe eyes. You cup his face and stare at him seriously. “You're annoying me.”

He lets out a gasp. 

A literal, audible gasp. 

“That hurt. Please tell me you're joking.” Jungkook says that, but you can see the playful glint in his eyes as you squint yours at him.

He made you bulgogi and you both devoured the last of it five minutes ago – and you're thankful for his kindness and generosity but god—

You push on his chest lightly. “Then stop asking. I told you we can just watch the first season but then you want to jump into the last one, of course you're gonna be confused.”

“Yeah but you already watched all of it. I didn't want you to get bored.” Jungkook pouts. You stare at him for a while and you kind of hate that he’s so handsome and so cute at the same time it makes it hard for you to completely be annoyed with him.

There's a fond look on your face when you roll your eyes again. Scooting closer to him on the couch, you plant a quick kiss to his cheek. 

“You're really sweet, Kook, but why don't we just watch a movie or something.”

He leans down to kiss your mouth. “Alright. You pick the movie and I'll go grab some chips from the pantry.”

You smile at him before he disappears to fetch some food, leaving you to browse through the catalog. When he returns shortly, you muse, “You're really nice and sweet to me today. What's up?”

Jungkook scoffs, as if offended by what you said. “Am I not nice and sweet every other day?”

��That's not what I meant. You're just extra sweet and extra nice tonight— I mean, you usually put up a fight on who picks the movies.”

“I let you win every time though?” He says and you nod in thought. 

“True.” Looking back to the television, you hover over the Notting Hill poster. Thinking that the description sounds interesting, you click on it. As the movie loads, you turn your gaze to Jungkook and nudge his leg. “But still…”

He can’t help but chuckle at your persistence. Gathering your feet on his lap, he leans back and retorts, “I just missed you so much. Is that bad?”

You don't anticipate the way he lifts one of your legs, holding your ankle up and then putting a kiss on it. 

It makes blood rush to your cheeks. With his mussed hair and the grey hoodie and cargo pants from earlier changed into a simple white shirt and grey sweatpants, he looks comfy you just want to jump him and bite him and kiss him all at the same time. 

Damn. He really makes you feel a whole lot of things you're starting to think you need an intervention.

You’ve never been so attracted to somebody before. It may be because you know you’re past the point of being just attracted to him.

And then there’s that beat in your heart again. The flip-flopping and the weird feeling in your stomach.

You look away from his intense gaze. “No.”

You hear him let out a low chuckle, a sound so attractive you feel the hair on every part of your body standing up. 

“Come here.” he puts your legs away from his lap, much to your little disappointment. But he beckons you to come close to him, and so you do, leaving your lying position from the couch to go over to where he is. You don't know whether you're gonna place yourself beside him or what, but he beats you to it as he takes your thighs and guides you to straddle him. 

You do so without any words, following his lead. You feel heat creeping up your neck when you finally land on his lap, his arms circling around you. 

“Why do you still smell like flowers even after a whole day?” It's followed with him sniffing the juncture between your neck and shoulder, inhaling your scent. 

You flinch 'cause it tickles a little. He always does and says that shit and you can't help but laugh, always not knowing what to say to that. But Jungkook doesn’t seem to need your input, anyway. 

He squeezes your body, hugging you tighter to him. 

“I really missed you, you know?”

You giggle. “Yeah, you said that the third time now.”

“You're keeping count but why can't you just say you miss me too?” He pulls away, making sure to face you so you see the pout on his face. 

You peck his lips. “That's because I don't.” You joke, earning a glare.

“Wow, first you say I'm annoying and now you apparently didn't miss me?” You're sure he's joking but the frown on his face makes you think that maybe somewhere in his head, he's thinking otherwise.

You smile at him. “I was just kidding, Kook. Of course I missed you too. And thank you for the food.” You say against his lips, leaning down to kiss him again. 

“Does that mean you’re done avoiding me now?” 

Breaking away from the kiss, you look at him in surprise, taken aback by his words. 

“What?” you say, confused. 

Jungkook arches a brow. You both stare into each other’s eyes but then his gets way too intense that you can’t help but look away. That’s when you hear him sigh. 

“Baby, talk to me.” Jungkook cups your jaw with his palm, gently directing your face towards his. “I don’t like when we don’t talk. You clearly have something on your mind. What is it? Is it something I can fix?” 

Hearing his words makes your heart melt and your brain turn into mush. Is it something I can fix? Jesus.

How can you not fall for him when he says things like that? 

“Did I do something wrong?” Jungkook asks when you don’t say a thing. 

That earns him an instant, aggressive shake of your head. 

“No, Jungkook. You didn’t do anything wrong, not at all,” you say, planting your palms on his shoulders to assure him. You see the slight hint of smile on the curve of his lips. “It’s, uh, it’s me…” you trail off, not sure how to navigate your next words. You take note of the way Jungkook’s eyebrows meet in confusion. “I’ve just been… feeling weird lately.” 

At that, his confusion grows even more, but it’s more out of concern instead of perplexity. 

“What’s wrong, angel? You don’t feel okay?” He says, caressing your face as if he’ll find the issue there. He looks so willing to just get you to okay and it makes your heart beat a little faster than usual.

“No– I mean, I feel okay. It’s not that,” you shake your head, shy at his doting. When he waits for your next words, you can’t help but bury your face in the crook of his neck as you say— more like whisper— against his skin, “I told you I love you the other day.” 

You feel Jungkook stilling under you. And it makes you nervous. Heart racing against your ribcage, you can’t find it in yourself to break away from your hold on him because that would mean you have to look into his eyes – and you don’t want to. Your cheeks feel so hot and you feel like throwing up. Your emotions are all over the place and Jungkook’s prolonged silence isn’t helping at all. 

But suddenly, those thoughts die down when you feel him relaxing underneath you, his arms wrapping around your waist. You feel a weight on the crown of your head and with a gentle rub on your back, Jungkook whispers against your hair, “I love you, too.” 

That makes you instantly look up from him. When you see his face, his lips are curved into a soft smile. 

With furrowed brows, you voice out your concern. 

“You don’t need to say it back just ‘cause I told you that.” 

Now, it’s Jungkook’s turn to be confused. 

“I’m not saying it just ‘cause you said it, baby.” He looks so sincere and for a moment, you feel bad for doubting him for a second. Jungkook must’ve noticed the look on your face as he cups your jaw again, angling it towards him. You feel his smile against your mouth when he presses his lips to yours. “I'm in love with you, __. I have been for the past few months now.” 

Your eyes widen a bit when he calls you by your name.

Jungkook has always liked calling you by every endearing pet name in the world that you’re lowkey convinced he forgot your real name at this point, but when the sweet syllable rolls off his tongue, you can’t help but melt. 

He doesn’t seem to notice your surprise, though. Just breaks away from the contact you’re both engaged in and he takes your wrist in his hand, lifting it to his face to kiss the skin on the side of your palm. 

The action was so momentary and brief but it doesn’t deter the fact that it made your heart jump. 

You think it’s funny how you feel so much whenever he’s around. You think it’s funny that you feel so giddy – even after all this time. 

You think it’s funny that before the whole thing started, you’ve never considered this ever happening but here you are, completely elated over the fact that you’re in love with Jeon Jungkook and he feels the same way too. 

“You have?” You say, voice quiet. He nods, humming, leaning to your palm when you put it over his cheek. “Since when?” 

“The first time we went to that abandoned house.” 

Your lips part at the declaration. That was… that happened so long ago. Nearly four months from the present.

“That long?” You blink a few times at him, not really sure how to react to that confession. 

Jungkook chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to your thumb again. You like how his instinct is to always have a form of physical contact with you whenever you’re around. You don’t know if he knows that himself, but you’ve definitely observed that for the past few months you’ve been “exclusively” seeing each other and it just… absolutely melts you. 

“I know… I’m a bit of a coward for not telling you sooner. But I didn’t want to scare you off.” Jungkook says admittedly, and his last sentence makes your heart twinge. 

He didn’t want to scare you off. Of course he’d think that. You had a total breakdown at the prospect of him opening up to you just four months ago – before you told him you liked him.

You swallow the sudden lump in your throat. “I— yeah. I was in my head over the past two days, you know?” 

Jungkook’s face etches into a look of concern. “Hm?” 

Nodding your head slowly, you find comfort in tracing random shapes and lines on his chest instead. 

“These feelings… they’re not new. I didn’t just wake up one day and realized I love you. I felt it during the time when we woke up together in bed for the first time at your place. I felt it when you drove three hours from your parents’ house to my dorm just ‘cause I told you I missed you. I felt it when you stayed up late with me just so you could help me make my flash cards. I—” you look away, suddenly embarrassed at what you’re saying. It’s not like you to say so much. Not like you to show and voice out this extent of your emotion. “I remember the times I felt I loved you for the briefest of moments in the past three months, but lately, I can't stop thinking about it and suddenly, I can’t count on my fingers anymore how many times I felt I love you. I loved you every hour of last week and yesterday I loved you even more.” 

You watch as Jungkook looks at you with parted lips. Awe-struck? You don’t want to hype yourself up too much. So you look away, keeping your eyes focused on his white shirt. 

“And what about today?” Jungkook suddenly speaks. 

You free your bottom lip from your teeth and finally look Jungkook in the eyes. “I love you more than I did yesterday. And tomorrow I’ll do the same.” 

“Fuck.” Jungkook utters, bowing his head. His tone's a mix of incredulity, amusement, and joy at the same time. When he looks up at you again, he looks at you with so much sparkle in his eyes you’re starting to think you’re a fool for not noticing earlier the love they hold for you in them. “I just… wow.” 

Your eyebrows meet in confusion. 

Jungkook chuckles and shakes his head. “I just… I had this huge confession in my head, you know? I– uh– I wrote it in my notes app.” 

Suddenly, the serious atmosphere breaks as you can’t help but laugh. “What?”

With a small pout, Jungkook continues, “I’m not good with words, you know that. So, I had this big confession planned out. I was gonna tell you in detail how much I love you, but after hearing what you just said… I forgot about everything I tried to memorize last night.” 

Now you’re giggling in his lap. Just trying to visualize him typing on his phone while figuring out what to say to you and him studying it, memorizing the lines…

You're so glad it's him you fell for.

“Don’t laugh,” he scolds, but there's a hint of playfulness that lies underneath it. Jungkook inserts his hand under your shirt and starts rubbing the skin of your waist. “Truth is that I was afraid when you started avoiding me. Thought I’d lose you again.” 

His vulnerable confession makes you stop completely. There’s a certain melancholy in his eyes when he mentions it, and you feel like scolding yourself for even causing that. 

“What I did wasn’t the most mature way to go about it. I’m sorry,” you start. Sighing, you adjust yourself on his lap to get more comfortable. “Uh… I guess I was just embarrassed and wanted to have time to compose myself.” 

“What were you embarrassed for?” 

There’s heat that spreads to your cheeks. For a brief second, you consider lying, but then you remember honesty. It’s what got you both here. Just being open to each other and communicating. 

“Jungkook, no one wants their first I love you said during sex.” You deadpan. 

“Oh.” He blinks. 

At that, you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Exactly.” 

“What’s wrong with that, though?” Jungkook furrows his brows. But his tone borders on teasing when he continues, “You know what they say? Make a girl cum one and she’ll love you, make a girl cum twice and she’ll actually tell you she loves you.” 

“Oh my god.” you groan, jabbing at his chest slightly and taking off your legs off the couch so that you stop straddling him.

Jungkook bursts into laughter and is quick to grab your waist, effectively pulling you back to him again. It results in you falling haphazardly into his lap, which he takes as an opportunity to cage you in a hug and guide you on your back to hover on top of you. 

“I’m kidding, baby,” he whispers against your cheek. “I’m kidding.” 

You inhale a sharp breath when he starts kissing along your jaw. “Good.” 

“I really appreciate you for saying all those things. I wish I can be as eloquent as you,” He tips your jaw with his fingers so that you look at him. “You’re a poet, __.” 

That makes you smile. You secretly like when he calls you by all these petnames... but the way your name rolls of his tongue just hits a lot more different.

“As long as you love me back, Kook.” you say, pushing his bangs off his forehead so that you can look at his face wholly. 

“I love you.” He confesses, kissing your lips.

“I love you too.” you smile. 

Jungkook pecks your lips one more time and suddenly follows it up with another one. Soon, you’re a giggling mess underneath him on the couch when he keeps it up until it tickles. 

“Jungkook,” you whine, wriggling under him and avoiding his mouth.

This only makes Jungkook chuckle in the crook of your neck, halting his cute assault on your lips. When the high of the laughter comes off, you feel a wet trail of kisses down to the base of your neck, and suddenly, Jungkook’s hands are under your shirt, rubbing along the bare skin of your waist. While he peppers open-mouthed pecks on your neck, his fingers trail upwards until they’re on your bare tits. 

“Oh,” you let out a low moan when his palm squeezes around the flesh.

It earns a groan from Jungkook, who presses himself closer to you. And it’s when you feel the growing need on his crotch area – his dick poking your stomach as he stays lapping up your neck. 

“Jungkook,” you call him again. It takes Jungkook a few seconds to look up at you. When he does, his long hair is a mess on his head and his eyes are hooded in that drunken-like state, lips wet from his previous ministrations. 

“Hm?” He hums, gives both your boobs a good squeeze again, making you sigh out. Jungkook continues to touch you, fondling your breasts in his hand as he starts kissing up your jaw instead. 

“I want you.” you whisper against the air, closing your eyes at the sensation of his touch. 

He feels so good on you. You want to take off your stupid clothes.

“Shit,” Jungkook hisses, giving an involuntary thrust against your crotch that made you both groan. “Fuck. I want you, too, baby— god, let me just—” 

You whine when he breaks away from you, but you watch in awe as he makes quick work of kneeling in between your legs, peeling off the white shirt from his body with one arm from the back in a swift motion. He throws it on the floor and swipes his hair out of his face, and in that brief moment, with his toned abdomen and inked arm, you nearly melt.

“Can I take off your shorts?” He asks, but he already has his fingers hooked over the bottom you’ve changed into when you got into his apartment. Giving him a nod, you help him in taking off the garment by lifting your bum off the sofa. Jungkook, ever the expert in the art of taking off your clothes, does it quick, the shorts landing on the floor together with his shirt, forming a small heap. Bottoming out, he takes your thighs in the crook of his elbows and scoot your body closer to his. The angle is a bit awkward from where you lie, and Jungkook makes your cheeks burn when he turns his head to the side to kiss your knee. “So beautiful, baby. Your legs are so smooth.”

“Stop talking,” you say, embarrassed. 

Jungkook chuckles at your reaction, already used to it. His face leans even closer and soon he has the tip of his nose on your panty-cladded core. Like clockwork, he takes a subtle sniff, closing his eyes for a little while at the scent, gripping your thighs tighter at the action. 

If you weren’t a heating mess before, you’re near on combustion now. Surely, Jungkook knows what this does to you. 

“You smell so good. Such a pretty girl,” he grunts. Then, he presses a kiss to your pussy which makes your breath hitch. 

“Jungkook,” you let out a whine for the nth time. “Don’t tease.” 

He shushes you out, clicking his tongue as if you did something wrong. 

You capture your bottom lip in your teeth. Jungkook cups your jaw so you can look at him when he says, “Be patient, princess. I’ll give you what you want. Always.” His voice is gentle and soft, and you know he means it. 

Still, you give him a pout. 

“I wanna fuck.” 

He chuckles, low and sounding so attractive when he brings his fingers through his hair again. It doesn’t help that you can clearly see the outline of his dick getting bigger inside his grey sweats. Damn those joggers for real. 

“Okay,” Jungkook smiles down at you. “Take your shirt off.” 

You make quick work of removing your shirt off to reveal your naked body to him. At this point, only your underwear and his pants are the only things keeping you apart. 

As usual, Jungkook zeroes in on your body instantly, paying the most attention to your tits. According to him, they’re two of his most favorite things in the world and as much as you’d like to call bullshit on that, it really does seem like he’s not joking about it at all. 

“Oh, baby,” Jungkook brings your legs down gently, sliding on top of your body and hovering as he quickly fondles your boobs with his huge palms. “Fuck, you’re so soft.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cleavage. Not wasting any more time, he latches his tongue around a nipple, and you automatically hold onto his head for support when the sensation nearly knocks you off the couch.

Despite that little movement from you, Jungkook continues to lap at your breasts. Licking and tugging at your nipple to get it hard, paying attention to the other one by pinching it and simultaneously squeezing. As seconds pass, Jungkook alternates between your breasts, and as he does so, you feel your core starting to heat up, your need growing bigger. 

“B-baby,” you sigh out, gripping his hair tighter which makes him grunt. “I want you.” 

“I know, baby, I know.” He whispers against your skin. You’re about to whine some more when Jungkook finally leaves your chest to pepper kisses down your stomach. When he gets near your nether region, he guides your legs to hook over his shoulder. “These gotta go.” He says about your panties, and you’re more than willing to help him take it off you. 

The moment it's no longer on you, Jungkook hisses at the sight, head leaning down to finally plant his mouth on your pussy. 

The first lick feels ecstatic just like it always does. With Jungkook lapping up a big stripe over the length of your core, you keep your bucking to a minimum, holding onto his hair instead.

“Taste so fucking good, I can never get enough of you,” he says before he dives in again. Jungkook has this thing when he eats pussy. He always does it like he’s making out with your mouth, his tongue prodding at every seams, wrapping your labia around his lips and being messy with it.

Jungkook breaks away for a while as you hear a sound of spit, followed by the cold sensation of his saliva dripping down to your hole. Soon, you feel Jungkook’s thumb beginning to rub your clit, resulting in a ragged breathing from your lungs. 

“F-fuck,” you moan, tightening your hold on his hair you’re sure you’re pulling on his scalp. 

“You’re so fucking wet for me. So sensitive,” Jungkook says as he picks up the pace of his thumb. “Ain’t that right, pretty girl? All for me, right? This is all for me, hm?” 

“Y-yes!” you squeak out when you feel him prodding his tongue at your entrance again. His finger is fast against your sensitive bud, with his tongue lapping up the juices that eagerly come out of your hole. Jungkook makes out with your pussy like he would with your mouth, and with the tip of his nose touching your skin at this proximity, you can't say you’re not close to the edge. And embarrassingly so – because he’s just gotten started and you already feel like cumming.

“Sh–shit,” Jungkook hisses. He shifts his thumb with his tongue this time in stimulating your clit, using two fingers instead to stretch your pussy out open just so he can see the way it throbs and flutters at his every action. It’s a sinful sight, really, the way you’re so open and wet for him. 

Soon after, Jungkook’s getting a little more aggressive in the way he pushes his head closer to your core, jaw working to devour your mound, two digits inserting themselves in your aching hole that somehow satisfies your need to be filled at the very moment. 

And you’re a panting mess beneath him – trying so hard to muffle the moans from your mouth. Jungkook’s gotten a total of three noise complaints for the past 4 months you’ve been fucking at his place – and even though he tells you not to worry, you find that it’s hard to believe when the one time that you got to ride in the elevator with his neighbor, she looked at you both like she knew you’ve done something. 

Never again. 

As if having read your thoughts, Jungkook breaks away for a while to say, “Don’t hold back, gorgeous. Let me hear those pretty moans of yours.” 

Your cheeks burn with heat as you see his wet jaw and plump lips when you glance down. When your gazes meet, Jungkook inserts his middle and ring fingers in his mouth, and when he pops them back out all wet with his saliva, he pushes them into your hole, lax in his movements, looking right into your eyes as he does so. 

“Oh my god,” you gasp, holding onto his wrist automatically when he pumps his digits into you faster than his pace earlier. 

“There,” Jungkook smirks. “Moan for me, angel.” 

“J-jungkook– oh my god– ah–!” 

Jungkook goes back to leaning his head down and soon enough, his mouth is back on your pussy, simultaneously sucking your clit and licking around your labia, all the whole sliding his fingers in and out of you, you can feel yourself dripping down the leather of his couch. 

“Fuck,” you sigh out, suddenly feeling overstimulated. 

Jungkook picks up his pace and you feel a sting on the sides of your eyes as the pleasure begins to build up. Your hold on his wrist falls off and as if he knows exactly what you’re looking for, he reaches for your hand with his free one, interlocking your fingers together as you see him look up at you while he eats you out. 

“Oh god,” you mewl, reaching down with your other arm to swipe his fringes off his forehead so you can see him better. 

Jungkook stares intently at you as you do the same watching him licking your core enthusiastically. You let your head fall back at a particularly delicious lick, and soon after, you feel that familiar zap that starts on your toes that goes right up to your stomach. 

“K-kook,” you call pathetically, swallowing the lump in your throat. It feels somewhat dry at this point. Closing your eyes, you focus on the sensation of his tongue flicking your clit, saying, “I’m cumming.” 

Jungkook keeps his movements of your pussy, not relenting even when you grab his hair a little too tight, and you feel like you’re breaking off his fingers’ joints by the way you’re gripping it so hard.

“I’m cum– there, fuck, that feels so good– I’m cumming!” 

The knot in your stomach snaps and you feel a gush of wetness coming out of your pussy when it does so. You hear Jungkook groaning in between your legs, his licking becoming more messy as you feel him use three fingers to rub over your core like a greedy man wanting everything to be his. 

“Jungkook…” you sigh out, your fingers easing their hold onto his, already feeling sensitive after your release. You look down at Jungkook only to see the crown of his head as keeps lapping up your wetness. He hums in your pussy and you know you can’t keep him off there for awhile so you wait, running your fingers through his hair soothingly, feeling bad for almost ripping it out awhile ago. “Kook, I’m sensitive.”

“Hm.” He hums to acknowledge you. He licks one last stripe before he lets go, easing off your thighs on the sofa and trailing kisses on your stomach and breasts until he’s eye level to you. “Love how you taste,” he says, kissing you, and your cheeks burn with heat when you feel your orgasm off his mouth. When he breaks the kiss, he looks at you with a smile you can only identify as lovesick. “I love you.” 

That makes you melt. 

You thought it would feel weird to hear him say it. But you think about the future and how there would be more like this, with Jungkook telling you he loves you in more shared random moments and you can’t help but mirror the smile he has on his stupid handsome face. 

“I love you.” you say, initiating another kiss. 

When Jungkook presses his body to you, that’s when you feel his cock poking into your stomach. You assume he’s even more rock hard now, given the previous events. 

Sneakily inserting your hand between your bodies, you try to reach for the bulge in his pants and when you take a hold of his dick, Jungkook grunts. 

“Babe,” he whines and breaks away from your lips and buries his face in the crook of your neck instead.

“It’s completely unfair how you still have your pants on while I’m completely naked.” You say, palming him through his sweats. You feel Jungkook tense above you, and when you give him a particularly hard squeeze, he retaliates with a bite on your shoulder that makes you squeal. “What the hell was that for?” 

“For teasing me,” Jungkook says, finally looking at you. He grabs your arm, kisses the side of your wrist before he hauls himself off you completely, planting his feet on the floor while you lay there on the couch bare and cold. But that doesn’t last long as you feel him picking you up with ease — bridal style. 

“Jesus,” you bury your face in his chest out of embarrassment. You’re all naked and he’s carrying you towards his bedroom in this ridiculous position. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook just laughs and as he reaches his bedroom, he closes the door lightly with his foot. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” He says when he puts you down on the mattress. He has that smarmy smirk on his face as he gets out of his grey sweatpants slowly. You’ve had the inkling he wasn’t wearing any underwear considering that it felt like there was not that much of a barrier when you held them there earlier – but it still takes your breath away when he’s left completely in his naked form, stiff and red-tipped cock standing to attention in his lower abdomen. Arching a brow at you, he trudges over to the edge of the bed and with the deep timbre of his voice, he calls you, “Scoot over here, love.” 

The new endearment definitely catches you off guard. Love. Is that something he’s gonna be calling you from now on? 

You definitely don’t mind. 

You follow his instructions and let your body move closer towards the bottom, making Jungkook hum in approval. 

“That’s a good girl.” Suddenly, Jungkook yanks your legs to his direction and you gasp in surprise, only to realize the position you’re both in. 

He’s standing right over the edge of the bed while he guides your legs to rest over his shoulders.

Jungkook and you have tried a lot of positions since you established your thing, but surprisingly, this has never been one of them and you find yourself curious as to what he’ll do next. 

His tattooed bicep flexes as he trails his finger up your naked thighs, making the hairs on your body tingle, especially your pussy which is all bare for his own viewing. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you watch as Jungkook turns his head to the side, and a gasp catches in your throat when he begins kissing up your calf. When his mouth nears your toes, you nearly yank it out of his hold. 

“K-kook,” you stammer, but all Jungkook does is pay you a momentary look and a non-committal hum, turning back to your feet again where he presses a tentative kiss to your big toe. When he feels you wriggle it in his hold once again, he turns to you with furrowed brows. You look away. “It’s uhm…” 

When you don’t say anything, Jungkook fills you in. “You don’t like it?” 

You feel your cheeks burning even hotter. Fucking hell. 

“No– I mean. Uh. I don’t know?” You knit your brows, confused yourself. You’ve never really thought about dabbling into the more adventurous aspect of sex but Jungkook has changed that ever since – right now, though, what he’s trying to do is confusing you. You’re sure you’ve never thought about feet and sex at the same sentence – but when Jungkook kissed your toes, that might have— 

Oh god. No freaking way he’s trying to give you a foot kink. 

“That’s okay,” Jungkook smiles at you warmly. “I was just gonna kiss them, baby. I love every part of you—” he presses a kiss back to your calf again. Staring deep into your eyes, he tells you gently, “But I’m not gonna do anything you don’t and won’t like, love.” 

It seems like the new unlocked petname is doing all things because you could just feel the sudden gush of wetness coming out of you as soon as he said that. Jungkook must’ve noticed, paying a quick look to your pussy and scoffing in amusement as he sees it. 

“You like that? Love? Hm?” He caresses your thighs again, his other fingers trailing dangerously close to your core. “Seems like me calling you love gets you wet. What about I love you? Does it get you wet just like how it gets me hard when you say it as well?”

When Jungkook presses his thumb to your clit again, you moan, feeling him continue his ministrations. You hold your breath when he begins picking up the pace of his rubbing, and with your position, it gives you an opportunity to spread your legs even more, feeling Jungkook hiss at the action. 

“Fuck. You really are so pretty. I’m so fucking lucky you love me,” Jungkook says. He talks sweet but you hear a sound of spit coming from him to your pussy, his saliva dripping down your core, making you mewl. “I’m gonna make love to you all night. Show you how much I love you.” Jungkook whispers as he pushes a finger into your hole, sliding in and out. “Look at what you do to me, love.” 

You open your eyes to see what he’s talking about, and when you zero in on his cock, it impossibly became bigger, the tip an angry shade of red now. It looks so tight and rigid and veiny that you want to whine to touch it – but you decide to lay still, anticipating his next move. 

“Put it in me,” you say, sounding challenging. 

“I will, just gotta make sure you’re all ready.” Jungkook muses before he inserts his finger once again. It glides in pretty easily, and you’re sure that you’re more than ready to take his cock. 

Grunting, Jungkook pulls you closer and lets go of one of your thighs to grip his dick. He gives it a good squeeze twice before he puts it against the lips of your pussy. 

“Oh god,” you moan at the weight of him. 

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses. You know he’s feeling the exact same way you do. 

When he prods the tip at your entrance, you nearly squeal in delight. Instead, you grip the sheets behind you and look at the way Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration as he grips the base of his cock to enter you fully.

You both moan in unison when the first inch gets inserted, with Jungkook gripping your other thigh tighter and inhaling a sharp breath. Jungkook enters you slowly and arduously, like he’s savoring every second that your pussy swallows every part of his cock. 

“You– fuck– you love a big cock but you’re so fucking tight,” He groans as he begins to slide in the remaining inches, getting both your thighs together again. 

“It’s your fault,” you retaliate, hissing when he begins to move a little inside you. It doesn’t hurt the least bit – you were already way too wet from your first orgasm on the couch of his living room – but in this position, his cock feels deeper and it just feels so damn good. 

“How is it– shit– my fault?” Jungkook grunts, beginning to pick up his pace. “I fuck you almost everyday.” 

“Oh god—” you moan when he hits a little too deep at a particular thrust. “You’re so big, that’s why– fuck.”

“Hah.” Jungkook scoffs, bottoming out to enter you again. “Play with your tits for me, baby. Fuck, I love them so much.” 

You grab your breasts, thankful at the suggestion because they’re bouncing a little from his pounding and you’re sure they’re gonna be sore the next day. 

Needless to say, Jungkook likes what he sees as he continues to slide his cock in and out of you at a steady, slow pace. 

There are two sides to Jungkook when it comes to sex. Sometimes, he likes to do it fast with jackhammer thrusts that makes you question his stamina and strength – not rough, because he told you you’re too much of a pillow princess for that (you rolled your eyes at him so hard and he only laughed at you, telling you it’s actually because he didn’t like the thought of hurting you in any way), and you admittedly love that. It’s what got the words “I love you” out of your mouth in the first place. Intense fucking coupled with intense emotions are a combination you now realize is dangerous – but right now, as he pounds into you slowly, making you feel every ridge of his cock, you realize it’s your favorite. 

There’s something so intimate about the way Jungkook closes his eyes when he seemingly tries his very best to contain his strength as he enters you with his dick. It’s weirdly hot when he inhales a sharp breath to regulate his breathing, brows furrowed in concentration. Like this, you get to feel every moment of where you both started and where you end. 

And when Jungkook leans down on the bed, folding you in half at the action, his dick hits deeper as he plants his palms on the mattress, is cock continuing their ministrations in your cunt. 

He grunts in your hair, grabbing your breast and squeezing it hard in his palm which earns a moan from you. Jungkook looks at you and kisses your parted mouth. 

“I love you,” he says when he breaks away, kissing your cheek. Then the tip of your nose. And then the space between your eyebrows. “I love you so much.” 

You giggle. In the middle of sex. When his cock is snug deep in your pussy. 

“You’re a sap.” you can’t help but cup his face in your hand, grinning at him widely. 

“Where’s my– shit– I love you back?” Jungkook knits his brows, thrusting in and out of you still. He grips your hip with one hand, and there are balls of sweat on his forehead starting to form at the exertion from his body. 

“Of course I love you too, baby,” You say. “Kiss me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait any more second and leans down to capture your lips into an open-mouthed kiss. You don’t break away until his hips stutter, indicating his impending orgasm. 

He’s usually the one who whispers all those sweet nothings in your ear when you’re on the brink of your climax, but this time around, you tell him how much you love his cock, how it’s made for you, and how much you want to keep making love to him all night – and that’s how he breaks.

“F-fuck,” Jungkook groans as he shoots his hot white orgasm inside you, his voice strained as he finishes off with a few more erratic thrusts. “Oh god.” 

“That’s it, Kook, cum for me,” you whisper against his lips, your legs already sliding off his shoulder. You can’t help but moan against his mouth when you feel him cumming more.

“I love you, angel.” Jungkook says and kisses you again. 

You reciprocate the kiss and hope he feels the smile you have on your lips. 

You don’t really expect to cum again – but then Jungkook suddenly palms your ass and taps both cheeks. 

“Cum for me a second time.” He says, pecking the side of your lips. 

You shake your head. As much as you’d love to, you feel like you’re actually about to break tonight. 

“It’s fine—” 

But Jungkook cuts you off quickly. “Please?” 

And how can you say now when he looks like… that? His sex afterglow puts every man in the movies to shame. And you’re just human prone to giving in – especially when it comes to him specifically.

“Okay.” You say, tapping his cheek with a smile. “How do you want me?” 

“Want you to ride me.” He whispers. “Wanna see your pretty eyes while you’re bouncing on my cock.” 

You ignore the flutter in your heart at his words.

Jabbing at his chest lightly, you roll your eyes at him and let him get off you to position himself against the headboard of the bed. Jungkook grins when you soon plant your folded legs on both sides of him, helping you put his still erect dick inside your still sopping wet pussy. 

You both hiss at the sensation, with you closing your eyes at the way he feels. Meanwhile, Jungkook doesn’t waste any second and dives into your breasts immediately, tugging and sucking at your nipples, squeezing and fondling at the flesh, and moaning when you begin to move up and down on his lap. 

“S-so good,” you mewl, wrapping your arms around his neck, fumbling with the hair on his nape. 

“That’s it, love. Doing so well.” He leaves your breasts in favor of your jaw, peppering kisses there until he makes a stop at your lips again. Jungkook finds solace in holding your hips as you move on your own, and as he watches your closed eyes and parted mouth, he leans back to the headboard, looking at the image of you at the very moment – wishing he could burn it into memory. 

“My god– ah—” You begin to speed up your pace, concentrating on the way Jungkook’s cock seemingly hardens at your every drop and fall. 

Soon after, you feel Jungkook sneaking his hands in your pussy, and when you plant one of your palms on the mattress leaning back, Jungkook rubs your clit to help you reach your climax.

You feel yourself leaking on him from both your orgasms in your pussy earlier, and at the thought of that, you feel another wave of ecstasy that snaps in the bottom part of your stomach.

“Oh my fucking god.” 

You bury your face in Jungkook’s neck the moment you cum, breathing erratically against his skin.

“You did so well, baby,” Jungkook kisses your hair, caressing your head lovingly. “I love you.” 

Humming, you let your body fall lax against his, feeling like your bones just lost all its joints, unable to move. Thankfully, there’s Jungkook to take care of that. When you refused to move, he teases you about being a baby and carries you to the bathroom instead where he tells you to pee while he prepares the shower for the both of you. 

Minutes later when you’re both done cleaning yourselves, you lay in Jungkook’s bed beside each other. Or more like, you lean almost all of your weight on top of him, your legs and arms wrapped around his body with Jungkook’s arms underneath your neck, serving as your pillow. 

“I think I just unlocked a new kink.” Jungkook says, alternating between kissing your forehead and caressing your head. 

“You discover one, like, everyday.” You tell him, eyes shut closed. You’re starting to feel sleepy from everything you did tonight. 

Jungkook snorts. “Fair. But for the record, nothing beats this new kink of mine.” 

“What is it?” 

“The I love you kink.”

Even if you can’t exactly see him, you’re sure he has that stupid cute bunny grin on his face.

Chuckling, you say, “God, you really are so corny.” 

“Hey, can a boyfriend not be turned on when his girlfriend says she loves him?” 

At that, you freeze. Jungkook must’ve noticed because he stops caressing your head. You move away from his chest and lean on your elbow so you can look down at him.

“We’re girlfriend and boyfriend now?” You ask with knitted brows. 

Jungkook looks just as confused. “I mean… yeah?” 

“Oh.” You nod. Looking to the other side of the room, you ponder, “Well, that makes sense.” 

Jungkook looks offended when your gaze falls back to him again. “What do you mean that makes sense? We’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend since you told me you liked me.” 

“You told me you liked me too,” You roll your eyes. “But… really? You think that?” 

Now, Jungkook’s pouting. 

“Wait, you didn’t think we were boyfriend and girlfriend all these months?” 

“Eh…” You think about the past four months since you both established an exclusive relationship with each other. You’ve always thought it was just this unlabeled thing. But apparently… “I guess we are boyfriend and girlfriend.” 

“I literally introduced you to my friends as my girlfriend last month, though?” Jungkook asks. 

You jut your bottom lip out. “I have no idea.” 

He sighs. “Forget about it.” 

“It’s okay. I love you.” You say, blinking at him. 

Jungkook visibly melts at that. 

“I think you just found a new way to get away with anything…” he says, eyeing you suspiciously. 

You snicker and cheekily press a quick kiss to his lips. 

There haven't been a lot of people who have come to your life that became important to you – and you didn’t expect Jeon Jungkook to be one if it – not at all. But what started as a casual relationship turned into more than that, and now you find yourself deeply in love with him – and happily so.

Meanwhile, Jungkook thinks the same as he caresses your hair, staring at your serene face while you sleep in his arms, thinking it couldn’t get any better than this.

all right reserved © awrkive, 2024. no reposts, translations, modification, and copying allowed. if you enjoy my work/s and have the extra means, please consider supporting me on ko-fi <3

[coff33andb00ks]

vivvvv how about…

11 + 24 with lando 😊

"It's impossible to get rid of me."/"Are you awake or asleep?"

driver + number = drabble <3

maddie babe ily

warnings: disgusting perverted amount of fluff

Lando Norris is, in his own words, a little bitch.

Granted, he said those words when he was drunk and a moth flew too close to his face, but you'll never let him forget that he uttered them.

Nor will you let him forget you have video of him screaming in terror and running straight into the glass door of the balcony to get away from the moth.

It's what your friendship is based on: embarrassing moments that the other finds hilarious but no one else would understand. Like the time you spent three minutes telling a store mannequin what you were looking for, or the time Lando locked himself out of his apartment at four in the morning. He has a tendency of doing that, so much so that when it happens he shows up at your place.

Like he is now, in his joggers and slides, without his wallet or phone, smiling sheepishly at you like it isn't three a.m.

"Don't you have other friends," you grumble, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"None that'll answer the door this late," he sighs.

You sigh and step back to let him in, pretending to be unaffected by the scent of him freshly showered. "How'd it happen?"

"Took out the trash and thought I had my key in my pocket." He looks entirely too comfortable in your tiny apartment, shirtless and his hair still damp.

Nodding, you shuffle to your bedroom to collect the spare key to his place. That he'd given to you so casually, like it was a normal thing for him to hand out an extra key, when you knew it wasn't because even Fewtrell didn't have a spare key back when Lando lived in England still.

"C'mon, you know I'll need it. Besides, you're the only one I trust to have it." He dropped the key - attached to a Snoopy keychain that you remember him buying in Vegas - into your purse. "There. Now it's impossible to get rid of me."

As if you'd ever want to.

He follows you into the bedroom and you're painfully aware of your unmade bed and the clothes you'd left on the floor. Which is ridiculous, because it's Lando, he's been in your bedroom before, he's seen your dirty underwear–

Just not at three in the morning...

"Fuck," you mutter, turning your purse upside down to empty it onto the dresser. The essentials of your life spill out, lip gloss and gum and wallet and keys - but not Lando's because that one stays on its Snoopy keychain it's special - and hand sanitizer and notepad and six pens and tissues and the ticket stub from the movie he took you to see two weeks ago and a friendship bracelet and two pads. Everything but his key.

"Don't tell me you've lost it," he says.

You scoff at the idea. You may have lost your mind, your sanity, and sometimes your wallet, but you'd never lose his key. Your sleepy mind scrambles. Two weeks ago you pulled it to give to him and–

"Oh shit it's at my place," he mumbles, clapping a hand over his face.

"Lando!" you groan, sweeping everything back into your purse.

He's sorry, you're annoyed, and after bickering uselessly you tell him to just go to bed, he can get his superintendent to let him in in the morning.

It's not unusual to share a bed with him. Lando's a clingy, touchy feely person, half the time you travel with him he ends up taking you into staying in his room. Ostensibly because he likes to talk but really because he wants to cuddle.

"You awake?" he whispers in the darkness. "Or asleep?"

You don't answer, because you know he's about to say something profoundly sweet or incredibly stupid.

He presses his face into your hair and sighs, much like an exhausted dog finally settling down for a good sleep. "I do it on purpose sometimes," he whispers. "Cuz I sleep better with you than when I'm alone."

As confessions go it's probably your favorite. But you have to pretend you don't hear it. You're smiling though, and you let out a sleepy little hum. And you feel him smile.

[trashytracktales]

Idk if you write about this topics since they are really sensitive, but it is something I’m currently struggling with and I would like to see how lando would react after finding out that the reader has been hiding a her struggle with mental illness and attempts of ending her life. Once again I know how sensitive this request is but I started reading your work and fell in love with it and thought that you would write this beautifully

Seasons change | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── This was a pretty difficult one-shot to write, even though it's not very lengthy. I know that mental health is still a topic of actuality that we all deal with in one way or another. The only thing that I want you guys to remember after reading this, is that you are not alone. I know that it may sound like a broken record, but it's true. Each of us has a Lando in our lives who will care enough to stand by you without ulterior motives or conditions. And if you really feel like you don't, I can be him for you. My DMs and ask box are always open, so don't hesitate to reach out if you need someone. You matter in all your forms 🤍

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

☆ summary ──── He's been away for work for a while now, but when Lando comes home to find his girlfriend at her lowest, they have to learn the hard way that love is about sitting with each other in the dark, not just chasing the light.

☆ pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

☆ rating ──── mature

☆ category ──── F/M

☆ word count ──── 2.6k

☆ date ──── Jan. 11, 2025

☆ warnings ──── 16+, established relationship, soft!Lando, mental health struggles, depression, suicidal ideation, mention of alcohol consumption and pills, emotional distress, vulnerability, guilt and healing, non-sexual nudity (bathtub scene, including tenderness and intimacy).

Please, proceed with caution and prioritize your well-being. If you or someone you know is struggling, these are some of the resources I personally used for years now & I think (and hope) that it might help you at some point:

☆ MENTAL HEALTH APPS

Calm

7 cups

BetterMe

☆ INSTAGRAM ACCOUNTS

idontmind

thefabstory (also an app)

getreformative (currently inactive, but great resources posted there)

talkspace

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE APARTMENT IS too quiet tonight. A space that once felt like a sanctuary, now seems to close in on her, the walls pressing closer with each passing hour.

To anyone looking in, her life might appear perfectly ordinary, even enviable. She has a stable job that she loves, a couple of friends who care in their own way, and Lando. Lando, with his boundless energy, his boyish grin, and his unwavering ability to see the good in her even when she struggles to find it in herself. But beneath that polished surface, there’s a darkness she’s been hiding for as long as she can remember.

She’s not really sure when it happened, or what caused her to lose her spark. Most of the times, she thinks that she’s always been like this, but that can’t be right. Although, at this point in time, it went on long enough that she learned to wear masks and mimic people’s gestures. It’s exhausting, but it’s easier than explaining why some days she can barely drag herself out of bed, or why her mind feels like a storm she can’t escape.

Lately, the same storm has been relentless. Lando’s been away for weeks, hopping from one race to another, his life a whirlwind of fast cars, tons of people, and flashing cameras. She’s proud of him, of course, but his absence leaves a void she can’t seem to fill on her own, no matter how many phone calls they share.

She knows it’s not his responsibility to fix her, but without even knowing it, Lando does it every time he looks at her. In those moments, pieces of her heart are welded back together, giving her hope that one day, maybe, it will be whole again.

Of course, things aren’t that easy.

She’s always been a loner, someone who enjoys her own company more than the chaos of others. This is why she doesn’t go with Lando to all of his races. Over time, they’ve developed their own rhythm, and it only works when they both put in the effort to be together. However, she knows that he often works for both of them. She also knows that it’s not right to let him do this, but she doesn’t know how to stop.

But being alone isn’t the same as being lonely, and lately, the loneliness feels like it’s swallowing her whole. She tries to keep busy, to distract herself with work or a new book, but the dark thoughts always find her; a cycle she can’t break. They usually creep in at night when she’s most vulnerable, whispering lies she can’t ignore.

You’re a burden.

He’d be better off without you.

Everyone would be better off without you.

In spite of everything, she knows she’s lucky, though. She has a roof over her head, food on the table, and someone who loves her. And, somehow, knowing that only makes her feel worse. Most of the times, the guilt is suffocating — a heavy weight that presses down on her chest until she can’t breathe. She’s tried to push the thoughts away, to drown them in work or meaningless distractions. She tried to be grateful. But tonight, like many other nights before, they’ve won.

When Lando steps into the apartment, the soft click of the door is echoing in the stillness. It’s late — later than he’d hoped — and he assumes she’s already asleep, because he texted her hours ago to let her know he was on his way, but there had been no reply.

Dropping his bag quietly by the door, he toes off his sneakers and glances toward the dimly lit living room. The faint glow of the city skyline filters through the curtains, casting muted shadows across the floor. He moves carefully, not wanting to wake her, with a simple plan in mind: slip into bed, wrap his arms around his girlfriend, and fall asleep to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

But something feels off.

On his way to the bedroom, he spots the balcony door slightly ajar. A cool breeze sneaks through the crack, carrying with it the faint scent of something acrid. He pauses, his brow furrowing as he approaches the glass door.

That’s when he sees her.

She’s out on the balcony, her back to him, legs dangling dangerously over the edge. For a moment, he’s frozen in place, his mind struggling to process what he’s seeing. Then his gaze shifts, taking in the scene: some things are knocked over on the small table by the door, a small flacon of pills alongside a half-empty bottle of wine, and all the mess. The realization hits him like a physical blow, and his heart starts pounding in his chest.

But then, panic grips him as he slides the door open, stepping out onto the balcony. The sound startles her, and she turns her head slightly, her expression distant and unfocused. Her eyes are red-rimmed, and there’s an eerie calmness about her that chills him to the core.

“Hey, is everything okay?” asks Lando, his voice soft as he crouches beside her, careful not to make any sudden movements. “What… baby, what are you doing out here?”

She doesn’t answer immediately, her gaze drifting back to the city below. The silence stretches, each second feeling heavier than the previous one.

“Talk to me,” he pleads, his voice slightly cracking. His eyes dart back to the table, to the pill bottle and the wine, and he feels a surge of anger mixed with fear. “Is this—fuck. Did you take these?”

She shakes her head, a small smile curving in the corner of her mouth. “I’m so tired, love,” she whispers finally, her voice shaking over the hum of the city.

Her words hit him like a punch in the gut, and he’s suddenly aware of how fragile she looks, and how close she is to the edge. His hands shake as he reaches for her, gently gripping her arm. His heart beats so hard that he feels it throughout his body — his ribcage, in his throat, in the hand he tightens around her, to make sure he’s holding her with enough force.

“Okay. That’s okay,” he says, his tone soft but urgent. “Let’s go inside, yeah? I’m tired too, we can rest together. What do you say?”

“No… no, it’s not—” she tries to speak, but her brain is clouded by a mental fog, and everything around her moves too quickly for her to catch up.

“Come on, can you step back? Please. For me?”

His last question is what jolts her back to reality. For him? She would do anything for him. Lando knows that, and she soon realizes that he is using it to emotionally blackmail her. He always does that, and it annoys her.

She raises her head to look at him, her tired eyes meeting his, and for a moment, Lando thinks she’ll comply. But then, she pushes his hand away, a trace of betrayal crossing his face.

“No. It’s pretty out here,” she says, gazing down at the world that simply exists under her feet. The distance makes her stomach clench, knowing that all it takes it’s a small misstep for everything to end. Still, she doesn’t move an inch.

“I see that, love,” he agrees, “But I want to talk to you, and I can’t do that unless I make sure you’re safe. Did you… do this before?”

She nods slowly, refusing to look at him.

At that, Lando exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm the storm in his chest. He knows her enough to know when to push and when to give her space, only this time around, he’s met with a weird combination of both. Luckily, his body decides what to do before his mind agrees to it and, cautiously, he climbs up to join her on the edge, his hands gripping the cold railing as his pulse pounds in his ears.

Her head snaps toward him, her expression instantly shifting, panic flashing in her eyes. “No, what are you doing?” she whispers, her voice cracking.

“I’m with you,” he murmurs, his voice tender, laced with fear he’s desperately trying to hide. “If you’re staying here, then so am I.”

She blinks, her lips parting as if to protest, but no words come. Instead, her gaze softens, the wine-induced haze in her eyes clearing. Slowly, she lets out a shaky breath and sits down on the narrow ledge, her hands gripping the edge. Lando follows her lead, sitting close but careful not to crowd her, his knee brushing hers. He hesitates for a moment before gently reaching for her hand, and he exhales relieved when her fingers close around his, grounding both of them.

They sit in silence for a moment, the distant city lights flickering around them.

“I’ve missed you a lot, you know?” he finally whispers, his voice barely audible, breaking the quiet. “I never… If something happens, I don’t want to have to miss you all the time—”

“Lando, I know,” she cuts him off. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she continues, staring at their joined hands. Her voice is small, guilt creeping into her tone.

He nods, looking at her, “Whatever it is, you can tell me,” Lando says gently. “I know I’m away a lot, but if you need me, I’ll do anything.”

Her grip on his hand tightens slightly just as she turns to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, tears pooling but not yet falling. “It’s not your fault, Lan. It’s me. I… don’t even know. There’s nothing wrong, but at the same time, nothing’s quite right, either.”

He shakes his head, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Don’t apologize for feeling. It just makes me think now, because I thought you trusted me,” says Lando, his words cutting through her like a knife through butter. “I trust you,” he adds, almost like pointing it out.

She knows he does, her mind instantly replaying the moments in her head, the times he’d come to her with his struggles. When a race didn’t go his way, and he doubted everything he’d worked so hard for. When social media was brutal, tearing him apart with words that left invisible scars. When he felt hated and couldn’t understand why. He always talked to her, shared his pain, his fears, his insecurities. He let her in, trusted her completely. And now, here she was, shutting him out when he was only trying to do the same for her.

“Don’t say that…” she starts, but her voice catches, and her breath hitches. “I’m trying.”

“I know, baby. I know,” Lando says gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “Can we, please, just go inside?”

The tears she’s been holding back for too long finally slip free, carving hot, silent paths down her cheeks. She looks up at him, her lips trembling as she whispers, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

His expression softens, and without hesitation, he lifts her hand to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles, mostly to show her that she didn’t. The gesture is so simple yet so full of love that it sends a fresh wave of emotion crashing over her.

Lando doesn’t let go of her hand as he gently helps her to her feet, guiding her back inside the apartment. The night air clings to their skin, but it’s the quiet inside that feels even heavier. He doesn’t say much, just keeps her close, his touch steady and grounding as they make their way to the bathroom.

A little uncomfortable now, she leans against the doorframe, watching as Lando moves around, carefully. He runs the water, testing the temperature with his hand, adding just the right amount of bath salts from the container on the shelf. The pale lavender-scented steam begins to fill the space, creating a safe bubble for both of them.

When Lando finally looks back at her, his expression is warm and inviting, somehow hopeful. He steps closer, reaching out to gently cup her cheek, wiping away the tear stains that remain.

“You’re everything to me,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over her skin before his hands move to the hem of her hoodie.

She doesn’t protest as he carefully lifts it over her head, his touch tender, his eyes never leaving hers. For a moment, she stands there, feeling vulnerable under his gaze, but there’s nothing but love in his expression.

Her fingers tremble slightly as she reaches out to return the gesture, undoing the buttons on his shirt one by one. His eyes stay locked on hers, silently reassuring her, grounding her in the best way possible. By the time she pushes the fabric off his shoulders, the weight in her chest feels a little lighter.

They step into the bath together, the warm water enveloping them like a soothing embrace. She settles between his legs, her back against his chest, and his arms come around her instinctively. There’s no rush, no need for words. It’s just them, surrounded by the quiet hum of the water and the soft glow of the candles Lando had lit earlier.

He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his lips lingering for a moment before he rests his chin on her shoulder. “Promise you’ll talk to me next time?” he asks, his voice small but steady. “I know things won’t change overnight, I don’t expect them to. But I need to know you understand that I’m here for you. That I love you enough to listen, and feel everything with you.”

The words settle in her chest, heavy but necessary, like the first raindrops of a storm. For the first time in what feels like forever, she sees beyond the swirling chaos in her mind. The weight of his love and understanding wraps around her like the warmth of the water they’re sitting in. And then it hits her.

How life itself is the changing of seasons, a constant push and pull — a constant chaos. Sometimes, the sun will break through, lighting everything in gold. Other times, it will rain so hard she won’t see the way ahead. But Lando’s right. It will get better again. Then worse. And then better again. That’s the way it is for everyone. A relentless tide of ups and downs, joy and pain, hope and disappointments.

As she leans back into his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, she realizes the most important thing: it isn’t always black or white. Sometimes, it’s a hazy gray — a space where the lines blur, where the answers aren’t clear, and the path you find yourself on feels impossibly difficult to navigate. But it’s in that in-between, in the murky middle, that having the right person beside you matters the most. Not to pull you into the light or demand you leave the shadows, but to sit with you in the dark, holding your hand, letting you know you’re not alone.

She swallows hard, her throat tight, but not from sadness this time. “I promise,” she finds the strength to whisper. Her breath catches, and she turns her head slightly to meet his gaze, tears still pooling in her eyes. “I know I don’t deserve you, but I—”

“You deserve everything, my love,” Lando assures her, his lips brushing her temple, before placing a tiny kiss there. “And I’ll make sure you get it.”

His definitive tone sends shivers down her spine.

She closes her eyes, feeling the water ripple softly around them, and holds on tighter, knowing that no matter what storms may come, the most important thing is that they won’t lose each other’s touch.

And that’s everything to her.

PREVIOUS LN⁴ ONE-SHOT

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

© trashy track tales, 2025

[simp-ly-writes]

The Comment Section

─────── · · A Social Media AU Fic

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x gn!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: The youtube comments section ship you and Spencer together heavily and so does the rest of the cast it seems.

─ · · TAGS: gender-neutral pronouns, suggestive themes, mutual pining, fluff, attempt at comedy, cheesiness, angst.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART 3.5

─ · · A/N: this is my first time ever trying this format- I hope you all enjoy!

─────── · ·

Hide and Seek (Again!)

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 53k | Dislike | Share | ... 8.29M subscribers 1.1M views 1 week ago click to expand

5,155 Comments

username04 1 day ago (edited) at 10:41 "where's Anthony?!" never gets old username02 1 hour ago 01:11 when the whistle blew at the start did anyone else see when Spencer grabbed (name's) hand?? BC I am losing it over here! ▼ 17 replies ↳ username15 1 hour ago Wait how did in not see thisss?!?! ↳ username11 1 hour ago And when (name) at 20:14 pulls them closer to them in the closet when Anthony nears has me nearing a heart attack ↳ username08 30 minutes ago I am not loosing my mind... you are. ↳ username17 just now And. Yet. They. Deny. Us. username99 2 days ago (Name) and their husband Spencer are now the new certified "just-friends-but-do-all-the-couple-things" couple. username01 1 day ago I have been HERE for this (yourshipname) since day one. username87 3 days ago mr/misses (name) "I feel something poking at me" 17:45 deadpans to the camera then proceeds to throw out half the closet while Spencer stands there still, hands raised has me dying- XD ▼ 142 replies ↳ username02 just now I am DESPERATE for more TNTL with the two of them. Last episode was NOT ENOUGH. ↳ username87 just now BOOST THIS.

─────── · ·

We Are Going Crazy (Don't Win Mario Party)

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 70k | Dislike | Share | ... 7.75M subscribers 556k views 5 days ago click to expand

3,247 Comments

username44 5 days ago THAT ARM ABOVE (name) LOOKS AWFULLY COSY SPENCER. ▼ 68 replies ↳ username02 5 days ago If we shout it loud enough, they might finally see. ↳ username06 3 days ago underrated comment 100%. ↳ username05 just now And how he played with their hoodies string, eyelashes fluttering and watched them intro, *heart-flutters* username44 5 days ago The way that Trevor watched as (name) approached and moved down the couch so that Spencer and them could sit beside one another. THANK YOU FOR FEEDING US. ▼ 3 replies ↳ username97 2 days ago And how he had to whip his head with that cone to show his smirk had me dying- hahahhahaha ↳ username97 just now And how at 15:01 Alex just sips his drink just off-camera is gold. username44 4 days ago (edited) 40:53 when (name) immediately goes to cheer for Trevors win is so sweet. How can one have a friendship like theirs???

─────── · ·

Another Marriage at Smosh?! (TNTL #151)

Smosh Pit ✓ [Subscribed] Like 49k | Dislike | Share | ... 8.29M subscribers 400k views 2 days ago click to expand

7,163 Comments

username01 2 days ago I have never clicked on a video quicker and been so equally disappointed yet laughed so hard. ▼ 333 replies ↳ username97 1 hour ago IKR this was just straight up mean. ↳ username66 2 days ago They just know their audience too well P-P username04 just now I want emotional compensation, your honour. username05 1 day ago Okay but why did their fake wedding vows to one another feel so real. username32 just now 16:28 The way that (name) just needed to walk out, say one word in a wig, and then walk back had Spencer on the floor crying that quickly needs to be studied. username32 just now Shayne and Courtney, (name) and Spencer is too much to handle all in one video /positive.

─────── · ·

(Name) Plays FNAF For The First Time

Smosh Games ✓ [Subscribed] Like 78k | Dislike | Share | ... 7.75M subscribers 200k views 1 days ago #1 on trending click to expand

1,162 Comments

username99 just now Just before watching this saw that (name) blocked Spencer on Twitter. Should I be scared? ▼ 202 replies ↳ username51 just now Mom and Dad are fighting, we should all be scared. ↳ username33 just now The silence in the room once (name) screams I hate you (I forget the time stamp) while looking just past the screen has me sobbing along with them. username01 1 day ago (edited) Looking past EVERYTHING ELSE. At 11:11, how (name) goes "I'm scared, Spencer" and he pauses the game and hugs her with those head pats has me spiralling. ▼ 2 replies ↳ username20 1 hour ago Okay but on this same note, how at the start, (name) was watching so intensely at Spencer explaining the controls and features instead of the screen, nodding along wide-eyed would be me too in this scenario. username11 30 minutes ago To the writers at smosh, this is too much angst for me. ▼ 6 replies ↳ username09 just now You speak on behalf of all of us (yourshipname) shippers. username03 1 day ago Petition for them to come back and play it together next time. ↳ username01 just now You have my vote!

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: hope this was not a terrible format to read if you made it all the way here to the end. :))