#take away his instagram access

[lynchianightmare]

I OPEN INSTAGRAM AND THIS IS WHAT APPEARS ON MY SCREEN???

NAHH PAUL

[kooberryfields4ever]

greedy

hello !! if you're seeing this again it's bc i've reuploaded it in order to make it a separate post <33 gonna start posting asks/reqs separately so i can tag the link in replies instead!!! tysm for reading!!!

wc: 5851

content warnings: detailed descriptions of insecurity surrounding weight & body image, internalised fatphobia, jungkook also gets insecure & a little toxic during an argument, jungkook is vulgar!!!!!! porn with a little bit of plot, jungkook is a munch, jungkook spanks yn a couple times, piv sex, descriptions of female anatomy, KOOBERRYFIELDS4EVER DISCOVERS A POSITION THAT IS NOT MISSIONARY!!!!!

MDNI !

He notices it in your face first, the way you’ve started to cover your chin in photos he takes of you, choosing to lean against your palm when you pose or asking him to take them from a higher angle. He chalked it up to new trends catching your fancy, never thought much of it. You look pretty, he’d compliment, and you would accept them with a sweet smile before deleting the majority of the photos he took. He had never even considered the fact that not once had you posted to your Instagram in over a month. He notices it next in your tummy, once on display with crop tops or low-rise jeans, now hidden away by baggy cargo pants, hoodies, and sweaters. He never minded. Yes, he misses being able to reach around your waist and stroke his fingers across your stomach, misses the easy access he had to your body and the intimacy of skin-to-skin contact that you’ve taken away from him. But, like his own, your style is always changing. Baggy clothes are in right now. It’s when you start to physically shy away from his touches, shrug off his hands and redirect his kisses that he senses something is really wrong. Sure, trends change, you’ll find new styles and your wardrobe will be endlessly rearranged. He’s sure you’ll find new poses for him to capture in a few weeks' time. Refusing his touch, though? No, never.

You love physical touch. Had said so yourself when Jungkook and you first started speaking, drilled it into his head that if this relationship was to go anywhere then he would have to get used to being your personal body pillow. He would joke that he hated it, would wrestle your hands away from him just to provoke a reaction from you, would sometimes place a pillow between the two of you in bed just to make you sulk so he could make it all better with a cuddle as an apology. Of course, he never really hated it – you were always warmth. Always comfort, ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice if he ever needed your touch. You’d card your hands through his hair when he was sad, scratch his scalp and kiss his head. He’d always search for you in cold beds and winter nights, and you’d always meet him with soft giggles and tangled limbs.

So why now, does it seem, that you no longer want him? Why is he met with a cold shoulder when he reaches for you at night? Why is the bathroom door always locked when you shower, when you used to gladly leave it wide open for him? Why do you refuse to eat meals with him, refuse his snacks, refuse to accompany him to the corner store when he wants something quick to eat? He paces the bedroom – ever the overthinker – and questions himself endlessly. The thought of losing you quite frankly makes him sick. He has to sit down, hang his head in his hands. Think. He doesn’t notice the front door opening and shutting, nor the gentle patter of your feet as you make your way through the apartment. Doesn’t hear you greet Bam in the living room with soft coos and gentle pets. He curses inwardly. His mouth is dry. He needs a drink.

When he opens the bedroom door, he’s met with you in a hoodie and leggings. He frowns, can’t help it, his head hurts and the way you immediately curl in on yourself doesn’t help. He sighs, brushing past you with a shake of his head and beelines to the kitchen. He can’t think properly, his mind is absolutely reeling. Feeling unbelievably nauseous, he downs a glass of water in an attempt to stave off the feeling of utter dread in his stomach threatening to release itself from his throat.

“Are you upset with me?” Comes your soft voice from behind him, and his head throbs. Why haven’t you wrapped your arms around his waist, yet? Why are you not massaging his shoulders, kissing his back? He turns to you, places the glass down on the counter beside him, meets your eyes. You look tired, sad even. Jungkook sighs.

“When were you planning on breaking up with me?” He asks abruptly, and you raise your eyebrows in genuine surprise, shaking your head in disbelief.

“What? Where did that even come from?” You fire back, feeling a certain anger rumble in your stomach at the accusation.

“You clearly don’t wanna be with me anymore, so when were you planning on ending it?” He’s surprised at his own combativeness; his hands are shaking when he crosses them against his chest. “Wanted to wait it out a bit? See if the feelings came back?”

“Jungkook, I literally have no idea what you’re talking about,” you deadpan, furrowing your eyebrows, “what did I do wrong?”

“There’s someone else, right?” He scoffs, and the look of utter horror on your face makes his stomach drop. What is wrong with him? The neurons in his brain are firing all the wrong ways, making him say all the wrong things and feel all the wrong emotions. He’s not angry, never was, never could be – never at you. He’s scared, terrified even.

“Fuck you.” You spit. Jungkook’s never heard such venom in your voice before. Your lip wobbles, a telltale sign of what’s next and he curses himself when a tear slides down your cheek. You dot it away with the sleeve of your hoodie quickly, trying to save face, but Jungkook’s already crowding your space and wrapping his arms around you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He whispers into your hair, rubbing your back and pulling you close to his chest. His heart breaks when you push him away, but he refuses to let you go. “Please, I’m sorry,” he begs, his hand instinctively slipping under your hoodie for the contact he’s been craving so badly, “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry.” I’m scared, he leaves out. He kisses your head, and you flinch when his fingers run over your waist.

“There’s nobody else, but…” You whisper, gently pushing his hand away from your waist. Jungkook stills, doesn’t mean to move his hand away but does anyway. Takes a step back, in fact. “But, I don’t look good. I’ve been stress eating, and my clothes don’t fit me right, and you barely touch me anymore, and-”

“What?” Is all he can muster, not sure if his face is reading as total disgust, anger, sadness. You’re not sure, either, it seems. You meet his eyes, you look disappointed. “No. Nope.” You gasp when he takes your hand, questioning him when he drags you down the hallway to your shared bedroom. He doesn’t answer when you call his name, doesn’t say a word as he makes you stand in front of your mirrored wardrobe and stands behind you. He’s not even sure himself what he’s doing.

“Jungkook, stop it...” You pout, turning your head to avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. This feels like some kind of sick torture technique, you never thought Jungkook could be this cruel.

“No, stop,” he orders, though quietly, his hand reaching around you to grasp your chin and turn your head back towards the mirror, “you don’t see what I see?”

“You’re not being nice.”

“What do you mean I don’t touch you anymore?” He avoids your accusation, has an end goal in mind now and will see it through or die trying. He keeps one hand on your chin, the other sliding over the fabric of your hoodie. He doesn’t want to push you too far but can’t help himself. He hears you sigh; watches the way your eyes avoid the mirror like the plague, like seeing yourself is that agonising. He sighs too. “You never want me to.” He adds on, hopes it’ll coax an answer from you, that maybe you’ll see his side of things.

“Because I don’t want you to feel how big I’ve gotten,” you say, frustration lacing your tone, finding his eyes in the mirror, “I don’t look as nice anymore.” You frown, unable to stop the tears as they slip down your cheeks. “The last time we had sex you wanted me to keep the covers on.”

He frowns too, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “You thought I didn’t want to see you? That’s what this is all about?” He releases your chin finally in favour of holding your waist with both of his hands, growing bolder and trailing his touch down to the hem of your hoodie. He sighs when you nod, never known you to be so fragile, so easily convinced. He sees the confliction on your face when his fingers slip under the fabric, wants nothing more than to kiss it away.

“I want you literally all of the time,” he continues, placing a kiss on your neck, grinning when you tilt your head away from him to give better access, “like all of the fucking time. Think about you when I’m at work, when I’m eating, when I’m gaming, I dunno.” He’s fishing for answers, groaning happily against the skin of your neck when, for the first time in weeks, you let him brush his fingers over the much beloved skin of your belly. He doesn’t like your silence, wishes desperately that you would say something, anything, but the look on your face tells him you’re untrusting of his words. Funny. Jungkook truly believes the sun shines out of your ass, but you can’t even believe he finds you beautiful.

“Think about you when I’m in the shower, when I’m brushing my teeth, when I’m doing anything. Wish you’d at least touch me, even if you don’t want me to touch you.” He groans, frustrated at himself for having interpreted all of the signs so wrong. That’s all he seems to be doing today. “You know how much I missed this? Missed running my hands over you, touching your skin, cuddling you? I wake up rock-hard most mornings, and you’re already out of bed, away from me. I never wanna push you too far, and you haven’t been in the mood. Would never push your boundaries.”

“Yeah, except now.” You whisper, and he chuckles. Maybe you’re being serious, he can’t tell, but he likes that you smile too. Likes the sound of your voice.

“Yeah. But it’s okay, right?” He grips your waist, lowering his lips to the sliver of skin he can reach with your hoodie on, the junction where your neck meets your shoulder. “You are the most gorgeous person I know; I thought you knew that. I genuinely couldn’t fathom you believing anything else. I’m so sorry,” he whispers into your skin, kissing back up to your pulse point and nosing your ear, “you’re perfect. Can I take this off? Please?” He practically whimpers, closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against your temple. He’s pathetic and hard, he knows you can feel it from behind you. Wants to press himself closer, but doesn’t want to push you.

Your hesitation is obvious, silence thickening the room. He doesn’t watch you now, wants you to see yourself, wants you to make the decision. His hands don’t roam. They sit firmly on your waist, an encouraging weight but nothing more. You think for what feels like forever before turning your face to him, resting your forehead against his own. His eyes open to find yours. They’re sad; his are pleading. He watches you nod so slowly, you’re still unsure but you know he wants this.

He really does. He can feel himself practically drooling when he turns back to the mirror, slipping his hands out from under your hoodie to grasp it. He takes his time, nudges you to look too as he lifts the fabric up over your stomach slowly. His eyes boring into your skin when your navel comes into view, then it’s the skin surrounding your stomach, your soft waist. Your bra finally comes into view, and Jungkook practically growls in your ear, decides to hold a brief intermission so that he can grab one of your tits and run his thumb over where your nipple should be. The fabric is too thick to tell, but you let out a hitched breath anyway and he smiles. He pulls away for only a second to slip the hoodie fully off of your torso, immediately finding your waist and pulling you back into him.

“Look at you, prettiest in the world,” he purrs, can’t help himself when he rolls his hips into the hollow of your back. His hands are gentle when they explore, fingers tiptoeing over your flesh and indenting it softly.

“I look big.” You offer back, part of you desperate to fish for Jungkook’s compliments. He frowns, spanking your hip to scold you before wrapping his arms around you to make a point.

“Wouldn’t be able to do this if you were as massive as you make yourself out to be,” he tuts, kissing the back of your head and resting his lips there, “think you’ll still look tiny sitting on my dick, too. Missed that cute little cunt of yours, pisses me off that you’ve been keeping it from me because of something so fucking trivial.” His voice is husky when he whispers the crude words into your ear, his grip on you becoming rougher but he can’t help it. It’s so infuriating that you would think Jungkook of all people could care about something like that. Makes him feel like a monster, like he’s somehow guilty of upholding this standard for you when realistically, you could look any which way and he would still love you.

He knows he can talk about his own body a bit too much, maybe conversations about his diet and workout routine made you think he was trying to convince you to be the same? Probably doesn’t help that he eats a lot of health foods during busy promotional periods and has a drawer full of supplements to keep his own weight in check. He never meant for any of that to reflect on you, though. You’re perfect in his eyes; with soft skin and ample curves, dimples in your lower back and freckles dotted across your body. He loves finding them, loves drawing the lines to connect them and kissing between the spaces. Loves when he fucks you from behind and his thumbs sit in those dimples like he imprinted them himself, makes him feel like you were truly made for him, like your body is moulded for him to touch, to kiss, to hold, to love.

He’s too busy in his own head to notice when you wrap your arms around your middle to hide yourself from him, how scared you look at the prospect of Jungkook seeing you as if he hasn’t already seen you a million times before. You elbow his hands out of the way and that catches his attention, makes him furrow his brows in annoyance. He slides his hands across your arms and catches your wrists, gripping them tightly before encouraging you to explore yourself the way he was just a second ago.

“I don’t get it.” He groans frustratedly into the back of your head, guiding your hands across your stomach, over your navel and over the skin of your lower abdomen. “Why don’t you see what I see? God, I’d give up everything to let you see yourself in my eyes. You’re like a fucking Messiah, my own little Aphrodite.”

“Aphrodite isn't a Messiah.” You respond quietly with that smartass tone of voice he loves, though slightly muted. He rolls his eyes and chuckles at your quick tongue, always itching to prove him wrong about something.

“Okay, and? The point is that I worship the fucking ground you walk, couldn’t picture a better death than in your arms...” He smirks, playing with the waistband of your leggings. “Maybe between your legs?” He laughs when you slap his forearm, but continues down the vulgar path he’s set himself on. “Would want my last breath to be with my tongue on that pretty pussy of yours, my last meal. You taste so good, always have. I know you love when I eat you out, too. Don’t you miss it?” He encourages, wants to hear you agree, wants to see the brick wall you’ve built up around yourself start to collapse. He’s kicking at the foundation as he speaks, finding the weakest spots and slotting the easiest bricks out at a time like Jenga. “You get so, so wet when I let you sit on my face. Think you know that I’d happily drown if it’s your snatch I’m drowning in. Don’t you want that, baby? Me to fuck you with my tongue?”

He reels when you respond with the softest “mhm” imaginable, gripping your hips like his life depends on it and pulling you back into his erection for some kind of relief. “Yeah?” He croaks, pushing your hair over your shoulder so he can start peppering kisses down your spine from behind. “I’ll do it, but you gotta do me a favour, m’kay?” Phase two of his master plan underway. He stands up straight, rubbing your hip gently and rests his chin on your shoulder to talk to you directly, wants to look you in the eye even if only through the mirror. You’re waiting for him to continue before you agree, leaning your head against his sweetly. “I want you to look at yourself the entire time. Not me, want you to face the mirror and see exactly what I see.”

You swallow nervously, scared to agree because that sounds like your worst nightmare. But Jungkook is so sweet, so kind and encouraging. Your eyes flutter shut when he turns his head into yours, kisses your neck gently, whispers how good he knows you can be for him against your skin. Your weakness has always been Jungkook’s gentleness. He lights fires in your gut and fans the flames with the softness of his voice, plants seeds and waters them with his delicacy. You find yourself agreeing, murmuring an “okay” and allowing Jungkook to guide you over to the bed. He’s preening, celebrating this victory by offering you a kiss on the lips as he encourages you to lie down with your head turned towards the mirror.

It’s different this way. You’re not so disgusted with yourself when you can see Jungkook in the mirror looking at you in awe. Your eyes remain on him, scanning over the broadness of his shoulders. He looks larger when he has clothes on, his t-shirt hiding away the lean frame you were once so used to. You suppose you’re still used to it, but the giddiness that bubbles in your stomach at his touch feels new. Your gaze lowers to his hands, you can see the flex of his shoulders through the fabric, how his fingers pry at the fabric of your leggings before slipping them down your legs and off your body, tossing them onto the floor carelessly. He turns his head to the mirror then, meeting your eyes with a stern face.

“Not me.” He instructs, and you begin to feel shy again. You haven’t sat with the reality of your body for so long. Against the sheets, you look frumpy. There’s a roll in your waist and a curve to your stomach now, it quite frankly makes you feel a bit sick. You’ve never been model thin, you don’t think that’d be possible with Jungkook’s feeding habits, but you’ve never been this big. Realistically, you aren’t even big. You don’t even see a problem with it on others, you know plenty of bigger people who you are even envious of. You just don’t think it looks right on you. Their bellies remain flat where yours curves above your navel, their hips are round where yours dip and flatten. Their skin is smooth and their boobs stay perky, you have cellulite and your nipples are starting to droop.

Your mind blanks when you feel Jungkook’s thumb press into your belly, using his free hand to pull off your panties and toss them onto the pile with your leggings. You don’t know how he does it, how he manages to draw you from the deepest crevices of your insecurities with his touch. You want to look at him so bad, but you don’t want to disappoint him. You want to be good. You keep your eyes on yourself, on the indent of his thumb in your abdomen, on the rise in your hips when he finally lowers his mouth to your pussy and the way your chest shakes with a hitched breath when he nudges your clit with his nose. You pull one leg back to plant your foot in the mattress, letting the other fall sideways to spread yourself open for him. He thanks you with a mumble of praise and wraps his lips around your clitoris to suck on it gently. You moan, it’s been so long since you let him touch you like this and you can feel yourself growing wetter against his tongue. He’s lying flat on his belly while he eats you out, burying his face between your legs and holding your hip. The thumb digging into your tummy is pressed deeper, like he thinks you’re going to push him away. You wouldn’t, couldn’t, so you lift your hips up into his face and whine for more.

As expected, he obliges. Dives in a little deeper and dips his tongue past your entrance, ensuring you don’t slip from his grasp. His other hand meets the fabric of your bra and you can feel the vibrations of his irritated growl in all the crevices of your pussy. It makes you whine, clenching around the muscle of his tongue as you rut into his face for more friction. He pushes at the cups haphazardly, desperate to release your boobs from their confines and play with them. You can’t control the way your eyes flutter shut, biting your lip when Jungkook’s fingers toy deftly with one of your tits, squeezing the flesh and rolling your nipple between his fingertips. You’re certain his eyes are shut too, but a sharp pinch to your breast has you letting out a surprised yelp and sitting up on your elbows to scold him. His eyes meet yours sternly, separating from your lower lips for a moment to tell you off.

“You’re really bad at following instructions.” He mumbles, coming off whinier than intended. You can’t help the giggle that leaves your throat at the sound of his voice; Jungkook has never been too good at being domineering. Never in all the time you’ve known the man has he ever truly intimidated you. He groans, feigning annoyance, but presses a kiss to your pubis before resting his forehead against your tummy. “Can you please just try?” He asks so quietly, and you swallow hard at the almost pathetic tone of voice he’s using to get you to obey. You hadn’t intended to be difficult, but you hadn’t really considered the anguish you would be in just from seeing yourself.

Watching Jungkook instead is like a Hail Mary, a saving grace between glances at your own body that bids your churning stomach time to settle at the sight. He’s so pretty, you’ve always thought this. Even now, resting against your belly with pleading eyes, Jungkook is the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen. You turn your head to the mirror again and see the hopefulness in his gaze when he lowers another kiss to your sensitive skin. His hair is a mess of black atop his head and your eyes follow the curve of his neck down to his t-shirt. You grumble quietly, vexed by the fact that he’s too covered for your liking, but continue your observation down his right arm anyway. You follow his tattoos down to his fingers and gasp when he moans into your folds and tightens his grip on your hip. You notice too, then, the way his hands fit so perfectly against you. It makes you smile. For the first time tonight, despite his tongue dipping back into your folds and his lips wrapping around your clit making you pant, you can’t take your eyes off of yourself.

You hook your leg over Jungkook’s shoulder, digging your heel into his lower back and rutting up into his mouth desperately. He chuckles into your heat and hooks his hand around your thigh to delve in deeper. He loves the sounds of your moans, music to his ears like a melody played staccato; your back arches off the bed but you keep your eyes on yourself in the mirror. He seems to be rewarding you now, pleased by your submission, and your mind short-circuits when his fingers join his mouth at your core. Your fingers tangle in his hair, encouraging him closer still – of course he heeds, dipping his middle finger into your hole and curling it. He doesn’t need much coercion to add another, your wetness and willingness is evident from a mile away, but Jungkook still groans in pure awe at the sight of you taking him.

Your moans devolve into a babble of his name as you draw closer to climax, clenching around him and shutting your eyes. He doesn’t punish you this time, accepts that you’ve done well enough for him, and instead watches your face as he sucks on your nub and strokes at your g-spot until you come hard around his fingers. When you finally open your eyes, your chest is heaving and Jungkook is holding up his wet digits like a trophy, bringing them to his lips to lick clean before journeying up your chest with determination.

“You saw, right? What I see?” He whispers, kissing up your happy trail slowly. You nod, but Jungkook isn’t watching – on purpose, you assume, to coax a verbal confirmation from you. His kisses travel further up, but he doesn’t ask again until he reaches your chest and presses a single kiss onto one of your nipples. “Can you tell me?”

“I saw how pretty you looked.” You respond, just to be a little difficult, but the way Jungkook deflates has you backtracking immediately. “We, I saw- I saw how pretty we looked.”

“But what about you?” He’s so genuine in his questioning, not spending as much time on your tits as he personally would’ve liked. He crawls up until he’s hovering directly over you, planting his hands on either side of your head.

“I looked good with you.” Is all you can muster up, but it seems to satisfy Jungkook as he lowers himself to meet your lips. The kiss is so slow, so gentle, and you can taste the subtle savouriness of yourself on his tongue when he guides it past your lips. Your hands wrap around the back of his neck like second nature, and he moves one of his own to your hip as the kiss grows more heated. He grunts into your mouth when he grinds himself against you, and the weight of his erection is dizzying. You swallow the noises he makes, holding him close to you and rutting your own hips into his movements.

“If I don’t fuck you in the next five minutes, I might die,” he murmurs, hand wandering across your hip and up to your waist, “no kidding. I’m too hard.” He adds when he hears you giggle, offering a final peck to his lips before pulling back a little.

“I’m right here, aren’t I?” You whisper sultrily, nuzzling your nose against his. He hums appreciatively, kissing down to your jaw with a grin. “You’re the one with all the clothes on.”

“Not how I want you, need you from behind.” He practically growls, and you swallow hard when he sits up to tug his shirt off and finally reveals what you’ve been craving so ravenously. You don’t hesitate in reaching forward to rub up and down his torso, trailing your fingers over the ridges of his pecs and abs with fascination. He chuckles and grabs your wrists, shaking his head as he stops your exploration. “I like this and all, but I need you on your stomach, like, yesterday.”

“That doesn’t feel fair, you had your fun,” you complain, scooting back on the bed while he sits on his knees above you, “and I don’t even get to touch?”

“Nope. Belly, now.” He commands, though his tone is far from domineering. He sounds desperate, and he looks it too. His body is flushed, his cheeks and shoulders tinted red as he gives your hip a spank and encourages you to turn over. You grumble a small protest but do so nonetheless, peering over your shoulder at him as you raise yourself to your hands and knees and dip your back. He tuts, placing a single hand on your ass and pushing you down until you’re flat against the mattress. He’s quick to shuck off his sweatpants and boxers, then reaches down to finally unclasp your bra. You sit up on your forearms to allow him to usher the straps off of your shoulders, leaving both of you naked on the bed.

“Eyes on the mirror, please.” He smiles down at you, reaching out for your ass cheek to give it a firm jiggle and a slap. You turn your head obediently, trained well by his consistent praise and repetitive instructions, and look at the way he positions himself over you from behind. He moves himself steadily between the small part in your legs, groaning when his tip brushes against your folds, rutting forward and sliding himself against the wetness coating your skin. You part your legs even further and reach back to take a hold of his length for him, preening at the way he drops his head and mewls. You’re desperate too at this point, so it doesn’t take long for you to guide his tip to your entrance and he’s even quicker to shove himself in.

You both moan, breaths shaking as he pushes deeper and deeper until he’s fully sheathed inside your heat. You continue to watch, endlessly awestruck by the sheer size of him compared to you – even despite your weight gain, Jungkook looks massive. When he pulls out, he’s glossy with your arousal, and when he thrusts back in you can almost feel him nudging against your tummy. Especially in this position, Jungkook feels impossibly deep. You groan when he grips your hips and you watch as his thumbs press into the dimples in your spine and he smirks, unknowingly to you because he’s been thinking about exactly this for weeks.

“I fit perfectly,” he growls, pulling you back onto his cock in order to reach deeper, “pussy was built for me, mm? You see?” You can feel the way his fingers stretch around your lower back to grip at your stomach while his thumbs stay firmly planted in those dimples, and it makes you shudder.

“Y-Yeah!” You moan, all you can do at this point is agree because he is so right. Not just your pussy, despite the fact that he fills you unimaginably well, but everything about the way your bodies interact with each other makes it obvious that you were made to be loved by him. Nobody else’s hands could fit so perfectly around you, could fill in your crevices and divots like plaster and make you feel so whole. You count your lucky stars for having Jungkook in your life to love you the way he does because you’re certain no-one else could. Even now, between sweaty skin and lewd noises, Jungkook stares down at you like he’s seen God; his lip trembles between his teeth and when he spots you looking up at him he grins and pins himself against your back. His hands leave your hips to wrap around your belly from underneath, holding your back tightly against his chest as his thrusts slow to an intimate roll.

“I love you, I love you,” he babbles into the back of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair and whimpering at the underlying notes of sweat, “I love you so much, never hide from me again.”

“Sorry. I love you.” You whisper back, breath hitching as you try to hold back your tears. This is all so intimate, it hurts. Jungkook is moving inside you like he could die tomorrow, making a home in your pussy and carving his initials into your cervix. He kisses the back of your neck breathes heavily against the shell of your ear, one of his hands trailing up to cup your tit and play with it gently.

“Gonna cum.” His hips are already picking up their pace, barely withdrawing himself from your heat in favour of grinding against your inner walls and cervix delicately. You turn your head to him and reach back to stroke his hair as encouragement, your own orgasm nearing as you feel yourself tightening around him. He nods, the silent agreement between you is enough for him to fuck you through both of your climaxes as he spills his cum into your heat and buries himself to the hilt when your walls begin to pulse around him. The noise that leaves his mouth is genuinely pathetic, but neither of you care in your post-orgasm bliss. He keeps his chest pressed tightly against your back, rolling slightly onto his side to spoon you instead of laying directly on top.

You can only handle a few minutes of cuddling like this until it all feels a bit too uncomfortable. Even Jungkook agrees, separating himself from you and leaving the bedroom in search of a wet cloth before returning with a bright smile. He’s silent as he cleans you, gentle when he wipes over your back, and then turns you to face him so he can clean between your legs and rid you of the sweat beading on your chest. He throws the cloth on the floor to meet your piles of clothes and clambers next to you in bed to cuddle you.

“Hi.” You offer him a smile and he returns an even bigger one, kissing your mouth.

“Mm, hi. Missed you.” He mumbles against your lips, gripping your ass cheek and separating from you to nuzzle your neck as he pulls you closer. “Don’t ever do that to me again, that was torture.”

“I’m sorry, I got in my head.”

“Me too. But you see it now, don’t you? How beautiful you are?”

“I do.” You wrap your own arms around him, giggling when he kisses your neck playfully before splaying himself out against your chest, holding you as close as he can.

a/n . . . 🗒️ hello !!!!!! second long post to here… i love asks and i love requests and i love making your ideas come to life in my head 🤍 this was incredibly fun & challenging to write and i’m happy to finally share with you guys !!!! your support means the world to me & i love hearing from you even if it’s criticism so please shoot me whatever you wish !!!

[five-thousand-loaves-of-bread]

autism in china

if you been here for long enough you probably know that even me fucking explicitly naming country of origin & ethnicity instead of vague around something east asian, huge deal.

so.

as chinese person who born & part grew up in mainland china n been though HORRIFIC trauma from it... cannot talk about anything related to it.

but in mean time. there important things desperately wish non-chinese, or people who lived) in china in general (including diasporas), would know n understand.

because it been extra traumatizing & isolating n lonely, be only person in big metaphorical or literal room, who know these trauma exist, n horrific extent of it. some of which have live experience with. some of it looming threat for my future. some of it not my own experience but my friends (aka my community. my autistic n disabled community).

so, going share some stuff written by other chinese people in this post. that. oh gods. it so accurate it hurt.

there may be some parts not fully agree or would word different if am write. but. think overall message important enough.

especially if you non-chinese. hope you read through all of it (if accessible). even if it make you deeply uncomfortable. n then imagine autistic chinese people living in this reality. because many parts SHOULD make you deeply uncomfortable.

EDIT: image description link for those need ID or not have instagram

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fact is, most prevalent, majority—n by majority don’t mean 51% majority, but enough to feel like it hopelessly whole entire country—understanding of autism in china is that. there real autism (真自闭症) that rare n severe n hopeless n should die, n majority of cases fake autism (假自闭症) that can be cured / taken off hat 脱帽, that caused by environment like bad parenting, n you should be glad it fake, n kid n parent should then dedicate entire life to taking off that hat to finding cure, even if it mean , via old school gold standard (read: abuse) ABA. all professionals say it all professionals endorse it n who would question professionals? look this grande new intervention came from great United States Of America, that proof it top quality it works n am going charge ridiculous money for it. but why you saying USAmericans n “the west” saying [things that humanize autism], they wouldn’t know real struggle, their diagnostic criteria super wide it all fake, why would you listen to them, you traitor you boot licker. —but either way, both real n fake autism drain on public resources n should be kept away should be locked up in chains (no, literally. seen documentary where high support needs autistic get chain in closet for majority of day, “for his benefit.”), should never be born should all die. keep it away from my normal children my normal children should not have to share same space same classroom same world as it, its behaviors its symptoms its screams its existence rob teachers attention away from my normal children. they all should die n will proudly explicitly admit eugenics good.

(don’t actually believe this. but pretending write what have seen people talk about.)

-

n finally, post about general (visible) disability—because in my however many year grow up there, before (temporarily it seems) left, have never seen visibly disabled person in public. ever.

ever.

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n generally anything from this instagram account. need stop linking now or else link entire account.

.

so please. reblog this. share this. read this. don’t let me be only person bear this. because my god it breaking me

[iloveboysinred]

SNOWED IN.

|MDNI 18+ content | Sylus x afab reader

synopsis; Sylus surprises you with a week-long trip to a ski resort in Alaska.

cw; afab reader, no use of y/n, crack/fluff. Sylus and reader are whipped for each other, sylus is bad at skiing , Gets a bit spicy but not outright smut, an attempt at writing something cutesy for the holidays. instagram posts at the end <3 (lets all pretend alaska exists in the lnds universe)

3114k words | playlist

If there was one thing Sylus was exceedingly good at, it would be spontaneity. It seemed like every other week he had something new scheduled for the two of you. Whether it’d be a date to an upscale restaurant, or the grand opening of a new club he had recently bought; Sylus liked to keep you entertained.

Christmas was coming, and it was his favorite time of the year to spoil you and treat you to luxuries you’d never thought accessible before. This year he’d planned a costly week-long getaway trip to a ski resort in Alaska, complete with a cozy private cabin and various activities to make your stay as memorable as possible.

You were beyond excited, packing all of your warmest garments and feeling less than guilty clearing out your schedule for the entire week. Your heart nearly fluttered away from your chest when you heard the coded knocks at your front door. Sylus, your very own prince charming, was finally here to rescue you from the painful dullness of everyday life. Eager, you open the door and pull him inside before he could get a word in, his surprised grunt ripping a fit of giggles from your chest as you embraced him, rocking his taller frame side to side in your arms. Sylus laughed, affectionately petting your head when you released him, running around to collect your things and throw in whatever you thought appropriate.“What an excited little kitten.” He mused to himself, holding his arms out dutifully as you piled on suitcases and bags for him to carry.

You don’t even try to hide your appreciation, doting on him with warm kisses and words of gratitude as he finished hauling the last of your luggage into the car. He returned your affections with quiet mirth, cradling your face into the plane of his chest, lovingly sharing his warmth with you. “Let's go, sweetie.” He murmured into your hair after a while, regrettably pressing a sweet kiss to the crown of your head and opening the passenger door for you all gentlemen-like.

Mephisto cawed to you in greeting from his perch on the arm rest, quickly nestling into your lap when you sat down, cooing like a needy cat demanding his share of your attention. You complied, stroking the bird’s bill tenderly as Sylus started the ignition, driving at less than favorable speeds.

Arriving at the resort felt like you had just stepped into winter wonderland. Undisturbed snow stretched for miles, blanketing the large hills and mountaintops overlooking the resort in blinding white. Pine trees decorated the open plains, their thick branches weighed down with heavy snow, just barley blending in with the surroundings. You eagerly surged out of the jet, drinking in the scenery despite the biting cold. Sylus followed you out, handing the luggage off for the twins to carry back to your cabin.

“Excited?” Sylus tenderly wraps a thick scarf around your neck, pulling a lip of the knitted fabric over to cover your nose. You nod, rubbing your eyes to ease the soreness you felt from the beaming sun reflecting off of the white snow. “So, when do we start skiing?” you turned towards him with childish enthusiasm beaming in your eyes, jet lag long forgotten. He only smiled, taking your hand in his “let's head to the cabin and change first. The vacation would go to waste if you catch a cold.” You obliged, feeling a bit ahead of yourself, but still unable to stop yourself from drinking in your surroundings as he led the way.

The cabin, albeit sizable, was as cozy as you had hoped. Familiar aromas of cinnamon and nutmeg greeted you as you opened the door, your eyes blinking appreciatively at the old timey lamps stationed at every corner of the cabin, bathing the room in a comforting glow. The large floor to ceiling curtains suppress the outside world’s natural light. In the living room area, a large bearskin rug laid out in front of a river-stone fireplace, complimenting the assortment of fur blankets and bedding neatly folded on the couch for you to use.

The bedroom itself matched the interior decoration, two matching nightstands sat at each side of the large bed, complete with layers of thick blankets and pristine pillows. The nightstands themselves each had its own lamp, and two satin sleep masks folded neatly over a set of matching robes for the both of you. Before you could even begin to strip down and change into appropriate attire, Luke and Kieran leisurely stroll in through the door, dropping duffel bags onto the hardwood floors, whatever was inside hitting the floor with a loud clang!

“We bought the skiing gear you requested, boss.” Luke chirped, pulling down the bottom part of his ski mask, his nose rosy red from the outside cold. “We even got the extra stuff you wanted. The gift shop is impressive” Kieran added, cheekily grabbing one of the complimentary pastries left by the staff and handing Sylus what you guessed was his credit card. They exchanged a few more words you couldn't make out, only hearing their enthusiastic shuffling before the door shut behind them.

Turning around you met Sylus’s gaze, mischief dancing in his eyes as he walked towards you with the two duffel bags in hand. “Better suit up sweetie, the twins are waiting for us at the bunny slope.” you eagerly grabbed the bag he outstretched to you, hurrying off to change.

To your surprise Sylus had sent you ahead, claiming he needed to unpack a few things before he could feel truly comfortable heading out to join you. In the meantime, the twins kept you company, racing you down the gentle slope a few times before moving on to a different hill. You became the designated photographer, the three of you snapping pictures and laughing as you wandered up and down the resort, your cheeks growing numb and flushed from the biting cold. You watched as Luke and Kieran raced down the ‘black diamond,’ the two of them darting past each other and leaving long tracks in the snow, their shouts of excitement nearly drowned out by the wind. It was then that you noticed nobody else was waiting in line to take a turn. The resort was basically a ghost town, save for you and the staff.

Briefly, you wondered if Sylus was planning something. It wasn't unusual for him to rent out or even buy a space for just the two of you to enjoy, but his insistence for you to go ahead without him and his quiet exchange with the twins raised alarm bells in your mind.

Kieran’s panicked shouts drew you out of your thoughts a second too late. You felt them before you saw them— the impact of twins crashing into you was strong enough to send the three of you toppling over into the snow. Recovering from the initial shock, you broke out into a fit of laughter, the twins awkwardly scrambling off of you, their hurried apologies coming from all angles as they helped you to your feet. Distracted by the sheer comedy of the moment, you just barely missed Mephisto’s loud cries from overhead, signifying Sylus’s upcoming approach.

The crow descended from the sky like a hawk, clicking and cooing as he landed on your shoulder, shaking his feathers out in protest to the wind. Sylus appeared soon after, fully decked out in ski gear and heavy clothing, you would barely recognize it was him if not for the aura and presence he exuded, effortlessly maintaining his elegance despite how silly he looked with his oversized snow goggles and weighty ski boots, exhibiting the classic penguin waddle of somebody not used to wearing skis. “decided to join us?” You mused, regarding him with fond eyes as he approached. “Of course,” he shifted in his spot uncomfortably, the heavy ski boots felt like they added 5 pounds to each foot, and you could already picture the irritated furrow in his brow. “Couldn’t let you have all the ‘fun’. Now, who wants to try their luck in a race against me?” You grinned, grabbing his wrist and all but dragging him to the chairlift while the twins followed.

It was hard to race against Sylus when the man could just barely balance himself on the ski’s. You watched in amusement as he clicked them on to the bottoms of his boots, slightly wobbling his way over to you once safely off the chairlift. You smiled from behind the ski mask, holding his arm while he adjusted his stance. It was obvious Sylus had never skied before, yet he still shooed away your doting hands, standing up straighter to clumsily maintain his balance. “Are you ready to lose?” You teased, waddling closer so that he could hear you through the protection of your mask. “Lose? “Don’t be so sure of your victory just yet, kitten.” despite his self assured tone, you don’t miss the way his hands gripped the ski poles to steady himself. You giggled, shifting a few feet away from him to ready yourself.

The twins counted down from behind you, and on the third mark, you pushed off and down the hill. Wind whipped around as you descended down the slope, and you quickly angled your ski’s into a v-shape to gain more speed, skillfully leaning your weight down onto the boots. You could just barely see Sylus from your peripheral, delighted to see him holding his own but still unable to gain advantageous speed.

In minutes you scored your victory.

“It seems you’ve won.” Sylus grumbled, coming to a stop next to you and very quickly clicking the ski’s off, again, balancing on the poles. “When you say it like that, it's almost as if you can’t accept that you’ve lost.” You mused dusting the snow off of his goggles, giggling when he slid them over his helmet, his eyes squinting at the sudden adjustment. “I can always just teach you, Sy.” He scoffed, already trekking back towards the chairlift. “Let's go again.” Unbeknownst to you, the twins crept away towards your cabin, swooning over the secret pictures they had taken of you and Sylus as they eagerly headed to complete their task.

You stayed outside until your muscles locked and your hands were numb.racing over and over until the daylight sky had darkened into beautiful midnight, the lack of light pollution providing the stars an open canvas to shine at full luminosity. It was beautiful, the hues of purple and blue painting the open sky stealing your breath away. Following Sylus back to the cabin had you light on your feet. The silence of the surrounding woodland created an air of private intimacy. It was only you and him out here, where no prying eyes could follow.

You paid no mind to the darkness that greeted you when you opened the door, the both of you carelessly stripping off the heavy snow-proof clothing and leaving it on the couch for tomorrow. You stop in your tracks as you enter the bedroom.The room was candlelit, adding to the cozy atmosphere the cabin already provided, on the bed Sylus had assorted a barrage of different gift bags– all from different upscale brands, a mix of names you recognized and others you didn't. In the center of it all, sat a large maroon box, topped with a pretty black bow.

Sylus sauntered in, his chest pressing against your back. You leaned into him, your heart beating in your chest as his arm slid over yours, intertwining your fingers. “A gift for every day that we spend together.” He whispered, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. You turned around in his embrace, your eyes shining with emotion. “Sylus, i- i don’t know what to say…thank you.” he smiled, cradling your face in his large hand, his nose brushing against yours as he leaned in. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me hold you like this a little longer.” you closed the space between you, shyly touching your lips to his in a gentle kiss. Sylus responded, holding you close to him as he returned your love. Melting into his arms, you stood on your tippy toes to deepen the kiss, conveying your adoration through your actions. You carded your fingers through his hair, ruffling the silky strands and he moved with you, his hands coming down to rest at your hips, pressing back into you with the same neediness. Slowly, he parted from you, releasing a breath. “I’ve drawn a bath.” his voice had picked up into a rasp, invoking jitters to run up and through your body. “Okay.” you breathed, wading out of his arms and letting him guide you to the bathroom.

You were pleasantly surprised to see the bathtub adorned with tea lights and a small record player sitting on the bathroom counter, a vinyl already inserted and ready to be played. Sylus swiftly moved the tonearm onto the vinyl, and the record began to spin. Unhurried, you undressed each other, exchanging heated kisses and wandering touches that set your skin ablaze.

Finally making it to the large tub, you sat in between Sylus’s legs, comfortably leaning back into him as he gently rubbed a soapy sponge over your skin. You felt your muscles relax, the steaming water loosening the knots that had begun to form after a long day of travel and strain. You closed your eyes, reveling in his touch, the music from the record player adding the perfect touch to your intimacy. Sylus pressed kisses down the side of your neck, slowly lathering the aromatic soap over your chest with the sponge, his intentions indiscreet. Leaning your head back, you let him kiss you breathless. The unique aroma of his cologne and natural musk overwhelmed your senses, your head spinning with each shift of his bare body against yours. It didn’t take long for Sylus to take you for himself, the water sloshing and spilling over the tub becoming evidence of your copulation.

Once dried and in your robes, the two of you grazed over a small charcuterie board, sharing glasses of wine and aimless small talk. Unable to stop yourself, you leaned over to his side of the bed where the two of you had pushed the gift bags away to safety and picked up the maroon box that had caught your attention the most, sitting it on your lap as you looked at him, fingering around the black bow curiously. “What’s in here?” Sylus shrugged, the corners of his mouth upturning, repressed excitement clear on his face. “I don't know, kitten. I guess you’ll just have to open it and see.” You carefully untied the ribbon and cracked open the box. A beautiful dress laid folded inside, matching earrings and a necklace delicately placed on the collar. You placed the accessories on the lid of the box, admiring the intricate design.

It appeared to be two lizard like—no, two dragons guarding a silver plated ruby, the earrings matching the beautiful gem. The dress itself was a deep maroon, matching the box it came in. The material felt silky to the touch, and its length was much too long for you to fully admire from your seated position. You glanced at Sylus, holding the dress up to your chest. “It's beautiful Sy. But, when would I wear this?” He chuckled at the awe on your face. “We have dinner tomorrow.” He stood up, retrieving the record player from the bathroom and setting it on the bed, re-spinning the vinyl and clasping your hand to pull you towards him. “It's somewhat of a winter’s ball. Now would be good practice.” You leaned into him, allowing the taller man to take the lead and sway you to the music.

“This is hardly ballroom dancing.” You mused, letting him twirl you around, feeling just as elegant in your bathrobe. “We’ll do it our way.” He took you in his arms, twirling the two of you around to the melody before placing you back down. You felt like you were walking on clouds, and as you gazed into the deep sanguine of his eyes, you realized that you’d hadn’t seen him today. From the ski mask obstructing the view of his face, the few hours you had spent apart entertained by the twins, and even in the bathtub, where you both had given in to your most carnal desires—the day had tossed you up into a storm, offering you little to no time to admire the man before you, who could effortlessly swept you off your feet, the man that has done everything—no matter how mundane, to satisfy you.

The time was now. You drank him in; the silver strands of his hair, still damp and moussed against his skin, perfectly matching the beautiful ivory frame of his eye lashes. His thin, perfect lips and the perfect slope of his nose- and of course, his eyes. Beautiful, intense scarlet bore into yours, a thousand unspoken words in his adoring gaze. As the song slowed to a stop, so did the two of you, your lips meeting again in sweet kiss, holding each other close unhurriedly pouring your hearts dry.

And as the day’s exhaustion caught up with you, the bed was welcoming. You laid against his body, his arm a comforting weight around your waist. Your body lost consciousness before your mind did, and you didn’t miss the amorous words he whispered into your ear.

Bloopers and ig posts!

Luke and Kieran crept into the cabin reserved for you and Sylus, Mephisto perched on Kieran’s shoulder. They looked around once, twice— before they entered. They had been instructed to light each and every candle Sylus had set out before you would arrive. Both to prevent the fire hazard and to ensure the candles were still lit once you came in. “Who knew the boss was so romantic?” Luke mused, taking the candle lighter and flickering on the tea lights around the tub. “I wonder how she managed to steal his heart” Kieran called back, bringing forth the small record player and vinyl, delicately placing it on the counter. The two of them swooned, admiring their handy work. Mephisto cawed a warming. You and Sylus were approaching. Alarmed, the two of them finished off the last of the candles, quickly shuffling towards the back window, hurriedly tumbling out when they heard the keys jingling in the lock. They landed hard in the snow, grunting as they tripped over each other trying to flee the scene, Mephisto following overhead.

[scoutofmymind]

Reader and Luigi basically being the old married couple of the group. A newcomer finds out that they aren’t actually together and it feels like breaking news because it’s basically assumed by most that they’re together. Maybe it isn’t until one of them starts getting actively pursued by someone else when it starts clicking why it makes them uncomfortable at the idea. Trying to leave this open ended for you.

The Jester’s Fucking the King — {Luigi x Reader }

Content: I’m gonna call this one NSFW— MDNI, friends to lovers, confusing feelings, Luigi has a physical touch fixation, you’re his fidget toy, fr tho, emotional manipulation lowkey, just a pinch (if you squint) of dirty talk, kinda love triangle

Wc: 3,458

Notes: yourself and Luigi have been Inseparable for six years, and the introduction of a new friend into the group throws a wrench into everything.

Before we start, I wanna make a quick note about the title, and where the hell it came from (lol). I was inspired by a tumblr post I came across awhile ago, and it stuck with me, I guess, because I randomly thought of it while I was writing this. That’s all. Enjoy xo

I took this and ran with it.

As usual.

"Who's this guy that she's bringing again?" you ask to the car at large, slumped in the backseat between your roommate Scarlett and the window. Your thumb swipes across your phone screen, watching Chloe’s location dot inch its way across the map while Luigi maneuvers through traffic and Ben fidgets with the radio from the passenger seat.

"I dunno, some guy she met in her new sculpture class this semester," Luigi mumbles through a barely-concealed grimace. The thought of adding another person to their carefully balanced social ecosystem clearly weighs on him. You know he's already mentally rehearsing his nice to meet you smile, the kind that takes more energy than he's willing to spend on a random Tuesday night.

"It'd better not be that kid Cole," you mutter, already dreading the possibility.

And because the universe has a cruel sense of humor, it was absolutely, undeniably, that kid Cole.

It hardly mattered what preconceived notions you’d had about him; they dissolved over time as Chloe started bringing him around more often.

The traits you once found annoying gradually morphed into something oddly endearing.

Still, he never quite seemed to understand the dynamic between you and Luigi.

On movie nights, when the six of you crammed into the living room, a messy sprawl of friends and blankets overtaking the couch and floor, you naturally claimed your usual spot; sprawled out across Luigi’s lap. Tonight was no different. You laid there with your back propped against the arm of the couch, scrolling through Instagram while your bottom half stretched longways over him, as if his lap had always been yours to occupy.

Every so often, you’d interrupt the movie to show him a meme or a video a mutual friend had sent. You’d lean in close, shoulders brushing, stifling your laughter together so as not to disturb the others watching John Wick. “That’s fucked up,” he muttered through a barely-contained chuckle, his eyes still on your phone screen.

Madison lives at home, her daily subway commute to campus a small price to pay for access to her parents' sprawling estate. Their backyard is a mediterranean dream, with a pool large enough to host the entire group of misfits, with room to spare.

You're draped over Luigi as he meanders around the pool's edge, both arms curved naturally around your waist beneath the waster. It's the kind of casual intimacy that comes from years of friendship, comfortable and worn-in. "Cole's actually pretty cool," he muses, tilting his head back expectantly.

You comply with the wordless request, holding the La Croix to his lips so he doesn't have to lift his hands from the water.

"Yeah," you agree, your eyes drifting across the pool to where Cole is pretending not to watch this whole exchange. His gaze darts away the moment yours meets his, like a kid caught stealing. "I really did think he was annoying at first, though."

Scarlett’s birthday party, your arms wrapped around Luigi’s waist, your head tucked beneath his arm as you swayed together and sang happy birthday. The whine as you shared a piece of cake, something about how “Luigi won’t even kiss me in public.” When someone said the two of you would have won prom king and queen if you went to the same high school.

Ben’s party followed just weeks later, the night still young and champagne bubbling through your veins. Luigi's hand clamped desperately over your mouth, but your eyes danced with mischief as you nodded enthusiastically at the circle gathered around you. "Yeah, Lu's got a PhD," you managed to say, and before he could stop you, the words tumbled out against his palm: "A pretty huge dick."

Cole watched.

"Did you know Cassie is seeing Dylan?" Cole asked, matching your frantic pace across campus. The morning fog swallowed your mumbled recitations as you mentally rehearsed your presentation for the hundredth time.

"Yeah, Cole, and I'm fucking Luigi.” you scoffed, the sarcasm dripping over every word like sticky molasses as you rolled your eyes. You yanked open the auditorium doors, disappearing behind them without a backward glance, mind already racing ahead to bullet points and transitions.

The very idea that Cole would believe such obvious campus gossip had you shaking your head as you slid into your seat.

But he did believe it.

He stood frozen in the hallway you'd left him in, staring at the closed doors like they might offer some explanation. "Yeah? I know.” he mumbled to your ghost, the words settling confused and heavy in the empty corridor.

The absolute certainty in his voice would have made you laugh, if you'd been there to hear it.

The seasons had shifted, and with them, Cole's hope had quietly ebbed away. After months of watching you, he'd finally accepted what everyone else seemed to know instinctively — even if Luigi wasn't in the picture, you were simply out of reach.

Saturday night found your usual crew at your claimed table in Madison’s backyard, the surface cluttered with emptied drinks and scattered Uno cards. Luigi absently twisted the rings on your fingers — a mindless habit he'd developed somewhere between freshman year and now — while chaos erupted around you.

The familiar symphony of shouted accusations about who was hiding the Draw Four cards mixed with the glow of phones being passed around, TikToks and screenshots sparking new waves of laughter.

Cole watched the way Luigi's fingers danced over yours, and for the first time, the sight didn't sting quite so much.

“I still can't believe Dylan and Cassie are dating," Cole mused through a cloud of smoke, beer bottle dangling precariously from his left hand while a joint was stuffed between the fingers on his right.

The table fell silent, five pairs of eyes fixing on him with varying degrees of confusion and amusement.

"Who told you that?" Scarlett's voice cut through the stunned silence and the resurrection of a dead and gone campus rumor, her phone screen illuminating her face as Dylan's name flashed across it. "Where did you even hear that?"

Cole's eyes pinballed around the table, finally landing on you and Luigi.

Your hand was caught in one of Luigi's absent-minded gestures, knuckles pressed against his lips while he listened — a habit so commonplace to everyone else that they'd stopped noticing years ago. "Uh— wait—" Cole fumbled, taking a desperate pull from the joint as if the answer might be hiding in the smoke. He passed it to his left and asked through a cough, "Are they not?"

“No, you idiot.” Scarlett threw a lighter at him, which he narrowly dodged.

"Well- why did- “Cole's words stumbled over each other as he locked eyes with you across the table. Your brows knitted together, genuinely bewildered by his desperation. "I- you said they were," he insisted, hand gesturing vaguely in your direction like a drowning man reaching for a life raft.

Scarlett's head whipped toward you so fast her earrings clinked, a new lighter in her hand that was suddenly transformed into a weapon of interrogation, the flame pointed in your direction. "You what?"

"I didn't say that!" Your hands flew up defensively, face flushing as you ransacked your memory for any conversation that could've led to this moment.

But your mind offered nothing but static.

"I asked you if you could believe they were- and-“Cole gestured helplessly at Luigi, who was studying your profile with the intense focus of someone who'd stopped processing verbal language three hits ago. His fingers hadn't stopped their absent dance with your rings once you lowered your hands again from your surrender to Scarlett’s mercy, muscle memory outlasting coherent thought.

Cole felt like he'd stumbled into an alternate dimension where everyone spoke a language he'd never learned while those same pairs of eyes dissected him with the kind of judgment only drunk twenty-somethings could muster, making him feel about two inches tall. "And you said 'yeah, and I'm fucking Luigi,'" he defended weakly, the words sounding more ridiculous with each passing second.

"Yeah!" You practically launched across the table, laughter threatening to bubble over as understanding finally dawned. "Because I'm not!" The force of your declaration nearly knocked over someone's beer, but you were too busy watching Cole's face transform as the shoe finally, finally dropped.

Luigi, for his part, just kept twisting your rings, lost somewhere between the fourth dimension and your knuckles.

Cole's jaw went slack, his eyes darting around the table again where this time everyone had suddenly developed an acute interest in hiding their smirks behind their hands — a masterclass in delayed politeness. "What?" He practically shoved the joint away when it circled back, as if too-late sobriety might make this make more sense. "But- but the dick size jokes and- and you tell everyone he won't kiss you in public."

"Oh, you poor thing." Chloe dabbed at her eyes, tears of mirth threatening to ruin her mascara. "She's always done that shit." The words came out half-strangled by suppressed laughter.

Months passed, and Cole transformed into your personal guardian angel. One desperate NEED SUGAR NOW OR DEATH text to the group chat, and he'd materialize with your favorite convenience store candy before anyone else had even read the message.

He collected details about you: the way your nose scrunched at certain perfumes, how you could quote every line from that one movie, the specific shade of purple that made your eyes light up. When he finally told you he liked you — really liked you, more than he'd ever liked anyone — you said you liked him too.

The gravitational shift was subtle at first — like planets realigning. Your usual perch in Luigi's lap gradually migrated to the chair beside Cole, a transition so natural that few noticed, not even you.

It came to a head one Saturday when Luigi texted his absence from movie night, claiming a sudden illness.

The excuse was paper-thin, and you both knew it.

You stood outside his building, jabbing the buzzer with the familiarity of someone who'd done this a thousand times before. "I know you're not sick, Luigi." Your voice crackled through the intercom, bouncing off the walls of his apartment where he lay curled into himself on the sofa, rigid as rigor mortis. "I can see your Oura ring stats." The betrayal of technology made him groan, and the offending ring went sailing across the room, a tiny meteor of exposed lies.

His father knows the developer.

That's the only reason he'd agreed to wear the damn thing — a circular shackle of obligations that now betrayed him from somewhere under his coffee table.

Your finger finds the buzzer again, gentler this time.

"C'mon, bub. I miss you." The sweetness in your voice hits him like a sucker punch, memories of simpler times wrapped in those words. "It can be me and you tonight. We can have a bestie night." The offer dangles like a Time Machine to the past — back when your world was just two planets in perfect orbit, before it expanded into a solar system of friends.

Before Cole ever came around.

Luigi appears in the doorway like a ghost, just as you're about to admit defeat. Your face splits into a grin, but it falters when you really look at him. "God." Your eyes track the sharp edges of his collarbones beneath his shirt. "Have you been eating?" The question trails behind you as you follow him up the familiar path to the second floor.

The apartment feels wrong — like walking into a black and white version of a color photograph you know by heart. Every blind drawn tight against the afternoon sun, as if he's been developing emotional negatives in the dark. "Hey, what's going on?" Your fingers find his forearm, anchoring him before he can drift away again. "This is kinda giving me flashbacks to when you failed your final."

He flinches like you've pressed on a bruise, eyes scanning his self-made darkness as if seeing it for the first time - the familiar choreography of his pain laid bare by your observation. "This definitely feels different from that." His voice comes out hollow, each word carefully chosen to dance around the real issue.

"Better, or worse?"

"I don't know."

He sinks back into his spot on the couch, the oversized blanket making him look smaller than you've ever seen him. His eyes fix on the half-finished Lego set on his coffee table — the Millennium Falcon he'd started weeks ago, now collecting dust mid-construction.

Three hundred pieces still sealed in their bags, waiting.

"Is it your mom?" you try, but Luigi shakes his head. "Is it school?" Another head shake. "Work?" No. "Was it your aunt Lisa again? That bitch—" He cuts you off with another shake. "Is it me?"

The question hangs there, and Luigi pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders, refusing to meet your eyes.

He lets out a long breath, knowing he's trapped himself here — in this moment, in this conversation, in this truth he's been avoiding.

No way out.

"What?" You cross the room in three quick strides, dropping beside him and tugging at the blanket he's using as camouflage. "What do you mean, Lu? C'mon." Your hands search for any part of him that isn't wrapped in fleece, but he's determined to stay hidden. "What did I do?"

Luigi's eyes catch yours for a fraction of a second before darting away. "I really just want to sleep." The words come out muffled as he tries to fold himself smaller, but you're faster, yanking the blanket down before he can disappear completely. "Please."

"Luigi.” Your voice cracks, and you don't try to hide it. You've never had to beg him for anything before, not in all your years of friendship. "I can't leave knowing you're upset with me." It's the rawest truth you have, stripped down to its bare bones on the couch cushions between you. "Come on. Talk to me."

The silence grows so thick you could suffocate in it, until Luigi finally breaks it with a mumble. "How come you only make jokes about fucking me?" His throat works visibly before he adds, "And not anyone else?"

The question hits you like a slap. Your eyes drift across his coffee table, taking inventory — the joint still smoldering in the ashtray, his anti-anxiety meds beside it, a forgotten Gatorade from the night before.

Everything a testament to hours spent alone with his thoughts.

You drag in a deep breath, searching for words you've never had to examine before. "I mean — that's what we do, you know-"

"No," he cuts you off, voice sharpened. "It's what you do."

"Lu." Your spine straightens as confusion settles in. "Why is this suddenly an issue? I've always- I've always made those kind of jokes about us. How everyone thinks we're dating all the time." You stretch yourself forward, trying to catch his eye, but he keeps his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor. "I just lean into it, I guess. I didn't know it bothered you."

He sighs, the sound muffled as he drags his hands down his face. "It doesn't bother me."

"Then," frustration bleeds into your voice as you throw your hands up, lost in whatever conversation he's having three steps ahead of you. "What do you fucking mean?"

"I- I mean-" His tongue clicks against his teeth, each word coming slow like he's translating from another language. "It doesn't bother me in that way."

"In what way?"

"In the way that means you saying you'd fuck me bothers me."

"But you just said it bothers you."

"No,” he says, “I didn't."

Heat rises up your neck as your patience frays.

Your mind twists itself into knots trying to decode whatever puzzle he's laying out between you. "Look at me." The command comes out sharper than intended as you try to yank the blanket away from him. "Fucking look at me!"

The blanket rips from your hands with unexpected force, sending you sprawling onto his hardwood floor. Your oversized sweater is the only thing saving your tailbone from a bruising. "You fucking asshole." The words come out hot as you fumble for your boots to put over the socks that betrayed you in their slipperiness, and just as you manage to wrangle one on, Luigi emerges from his cocoon, fixing you with a look that stops you cold.

"I mean I guess-“ He clears his throat, looking down at you with that familiar steady gaze, but there's something different layered over it now, something raw. "I mean- Why wouldn't you fuck me?"

The question hits like a fist to the cheekbones.

You freeze, one boot half-laced, mouth hanging open as heat floods you to your temples.

Of all the directions this could have gone, you never expected this brand of brutal honesty, delivered while you're sprawled ungracefully on his living room floor and wrestling with your shoelaces.

Your eyes dart between the coffee table and his face, pieces clicking together with nauseating clarity. "What kind of question is that?" The words come out sharp as your fingers hook uselessly around your boot laces.

"Well, what kind of joke is it to go around telling everyone we fuck?" He throws your logic back at you with devastating precision. "What's so funny about that?"

You bury your face in your hands, a groan muffled against your palms. Every memory floods back at once — all those times he tried to stop you from making dick jokes, all those moments people assumed you were dating and you played it up while he went quiet.

Six years of friendship viewed through this new lens makes your stomach lurch, and another heavy sigh tears from your chest.

"Can you at least tell me?" Luigi's voice comes out barely above a whisper, watching you curled up on his floor like a wounded animal.

You finally lift your head, meeting his stare head-on. "Do you want me to say I'd fuck you?"

The silence wraps around you both like a physical thing, but his eyes stay locked on yours even as color floods his cheeks. "Huh?" You arch an eyebrow, challenging. "Want me to say how hard I'd do it?" Your discarded boot connects with his shin. "How I know you whimper."

As if on cue, a small sound escapes him — half whine, half breath. He's still staring at you like you've knocked all the air from his lungs, struck speechless while you press your newfound advantage.

You move closer, settling between his knees as the blanket slips from his shoulders. With gentle pressure, you ease him back against the couch. "Want me to tell you how none of it was ever really a joke?" Your hand rests against his chest, feeling his heartbeat race beneath your palm. "How every time that you felt me push my ass against your dick wasn’t just your imagination?”

Luigi reaches for you then, fingers trembling as they find your skin — reverent and careful. He's always been tactile with you, always finding excuses to be close. He knows the map of your hands better than you do, how your breathing changes when you drift to sleep, all the little things that make you who you are. "I knew it," he whispers as you settle against him, both of you finally exactly where you're meant to be.

You'd spent so long pushing these thoughts away, rationalizing every touch as just his nature — absent patterns traced on your skin during movies, fingers intertwined during conversations, gentle pressure points mapped across your arms during lengthy lectures.

Each gesture filed away as mindless habit.

But this was different. Every point of contact now carried weight, intention.

"I'd fuck you too," Luigi murmurs, drawing you closer, face pressed against your sweater. His hands spread warm and steady across your back, holding you like something precious, something he's afraid might slip away. “And I’d whine as much as you wanted.”

The next week comes floating by once again, Cole hurrying beside you as you rush to your next lecture, desperately trying to untangle your earbuds, hearing Luigi’s voice echo in your mind, laughing at you for your resistance toward Bluetooth devices. “I - I wanted to see if maybe you wanted to-“

“I’m fucking Luigi.” You turn to Cole, your expression deadpan but fixed, serious but not all that concerned before the doors of the auditorium are flung open, and once again, you vanish behind them.

Cole bursts into a fit of giggles at the thought, realizing now that believing such a thing would be mean he was naive — he’s since learned from his mistakes. “Yeah.” He murmurs to himself, “And Cassie and Dylan are still dating.”

[seiwas]

hihi sel!! for your blurb game... hawks + nose + slow burn

thanks for sending this prompt bitti!! 💗

hawks + nose + slow burn

contains: non-canon au, commercial model!hawks, childhood best friends to lovers, pining, hawks gets drunk, reader dates a guy at some point, kinda cliche but i am a sucker for that

keigo's nose twitches when he lies.

it's a tell you've known well all your life.

when he was 5, he used to climb up a tree to practice how to "fly". it was really just him trying to parachute down using his bedsheets, but you watched every attempt―cheered him on whether it was a success or failure.

and when his mother's voice echoed down the park, you watched as he answered, "no," when she asked if he was trying to launch himself up to the sky.

you first noticed it then, the delayed reaction a few seconds after he had just covered up the truth: his nose twitched twice, a quick crinkling of his nose bridge. you didn't think much of it until it happened the second, third, and fourth time.

at first, you'd felt betrayed, being pulled by your ankles down into the swimming pool when he promised you he wouldn't. at 10 years old, you held these things like an oath―

"i promise! won't even go near you. see?" he swims away from the ledge you remain hesitant of approaching, hands raised up in surrender as he laughs.

―compelling; believable. trustworthy. water weighs down his otherwise bird's nest hair, taming it slack against his forehead. with his eyes forming into crescents when he smiles, he looks like the very image of a good kid down the block.

you get better at spotting it as you grow up together, and soon enough, you realize, it suits keigo to be a liar. he's charming above all, drips down sweet words like honey to anyone gullible enough to believe it. they're empty promises most of the time, but a lot of people fall for it, you notice. you included.

"i’m not interested anyway," he tells you at 18, right after graduation. one of the girls in your class was brave enough to confess to him and you’re curious how he feels about it, if anything.

being keigo's longest and arguably even best friend means that you know him better than anyone else. you were there when he was ugly, puberty catching up to him slowly. you’ve witnessed him just woken up, groggy from a full night of studying, because despite the nonchalance he often displays, he does care about his grades more than he lets on.

you know when he’s happy, when he talks about his dreams; the excitement he felt when he was scouted as a commercial model for a prestigious agency. you know his heart, beneath all his playfulness, how he keeps the people he values close to his chest and cares about them more than anything.

(you remember every single time keigo has lied on your behalf, nose twitch after nose twitch—that time you spilled grape juice all over your carpet and keigo told your mother that it was all his fault; when you forgot a book for one of your classes and keigo gave you his, taking the consequence of detention in your stead.)

you know keigo well because you love all the parts of him.

so when his nose twitches after he tells you he doesn't care much for relationships, your heart breaks just a little bit. you begin to wonder if keigo has a type, and if that girl fits right into it.

.

getting over keigo while still being his best friend is a herculean, if not impossible, task.

his career skyrockets and you go to university; your schedules are always in conflict but he still happens to be everywhere you look―ads on your instagram feed, wallpapers on your classmates' phones. there are shorts of his interviews constantly recommended on your youtube homepage and the feeling is both weird and comforting watching someone you know so well be so accessible yet difficult to meet.

you could reach out, sure, but you know he's busy enough as is. you don't think it's his priority to―

"come over soon," he texts you one thursday night.

your heart hammers against your chest, fingers numbing as you nearly drop your phone. it's embarrassing how quickly you type out, "when?"

but keigo is a fast texter, somehow always beating you to your replies first.

"this sat?" he double messages.

and you're about to reply "down" when he chats again, his words leaving an ache in your chest that you can't help but feel guilty for.

"haven't seen u in ages i think i'm starting to hallucinate hearing ur voice or smth."

.

spending more weekends together makes it harder for you to get over him, sitting on his couch as you both eat takeout; earlier today, you'd stumbled upon some stupid tiktok gossiping about all the dating scandals he's been embroiled in this past year.

you stuff chow mein down your throat, swallow it in big gulps as you glance at your best friend across you; he remains lax and unbothered as his legs cross in front of him, eyes on the the movie you're currently watching. it's a slow and painful process trying to get yourself to be just as uncaring about the entire thing, but with how often keigo lies, you find it hard to distinguish whether his "playboy" image is real or just for marketing.

curiosity gets the better of you when the question slips out, awkward and clearly fabricated.

"one of my friends is asking if i can introduce you."

you avoid eye contact in fear that he'll be able to tell you're making it up. no one from university knows you're keigo's best friend; he's kept you a secret just as much as you've kept him one.

"tell them sorry, too busy to date," he shoves a handful of popcorn straight into his mouth, chewing exaggeratedly to conceal the fact that his nose is twitching. his arm is slung over the back of the couch as you nestle yourself on the other end of it.

the topic is sensitive for the both of you; keigo always shoots down any opportunity to talk about his love life and you're always conscious of the fact that you might seem too eager to want to know what the real score is between him and the girl at the bar, at the photoshoot, at the gala, at the―

"am sure uni doesn't give you much time either, right?"

he changes the subject.

.

keigo is linked to a lot of people in the industry; it's a consequence of the job, as they say. rumors are neither confirmed nor denied and you're just as clueless as the public is despite the fact that you've known him your whole life and spend your weekends eating greasy takeout on his expensive couch.

you should move on, you tell yourself.

it doesn't mean anything that the throw blanket on his bed is the one you crocheted for him when he turned 21. the picture that sits on his entryway isn't anything more than a memento of youth with his best friend. sure, he makes time for you despite his busy schedule, but that's what all good friends do.

.

so, you start seeing someone. and when you tell keigo, things change.

it only makes sense that you hang out with him less, but he changes more than the circumstances do and you don't think that's fair at all.

he's started replying to you late, which has never happened before. and he's begun cancelling plans with you at the last minute, only for you to find leaked pictures of him at some bar with a bunch of people hanging by his arms.

keigo hangs around alcohol, but he rarely ever indulges, so having him call you shit-faced drunk right after he cancelled hanging out on the same weekend is definitely something new.

you’re in rare form driving his car to pick him up, hoisting him onto the passenger seat as he passes out to sleep. it’s only when you get to his apartment that he groggily wakes.

the elevator ride has him clinging to the side railings, his groans filling the tiny space. an empty plastic bag is ready in your hand in case he needs to hurl—which he doesn’t, thankfully—but he crashes on the couch as soon as he walks in the door.

you ready a glass of water and painkillers on the coffee table in front of him before grabbing the throw blanket from his bedroom. when you return, he's tucked into himself like a baby, knees curled up and arms crossed around torso in an embrace.

it both endears you and aches; you'd hug him if you could. if only your feelings could handle being closer to him than you should be.

instead, you settle for tucking him in, draping the crochet blanket over him as he snuggles into it.

admittedly, you're still kind of pissed; he did flake on your plans after all. but when he mumbles your name in his sleep, you find all of that anger flushed down the drain immediately.

.

the first time keigo meets the guy you've been seeing, you don't expect the hostility.

your best friend is your best friend for a reason—he's the warmest, friendliest person you know. even the media portrays him that way: charming and a little too flirty for his own good.

"quit it," you tell him when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend goes to the restroom. you're pretty sure keigo's the reason he needed to go in the first place.

keigo sips his tea, doing a complete switch-up when he smiles at you and asks, "quit what?"

you roll your eyes, "i'm pretty sure he pissed himself because of you."

he snorts, shrugging his shoulders, "not my fault."

it is completely his fault.

from the moment your not-yet-boyfriend shook keigo's hand, your best friend has done nothing but stare him down―a piercing glare like that of hawk’s hunting its prey. you'd liken his grip to talons digging into skin if you could.

"you're such an asshole," you shake your head resignedly, chuckling. the horrible thing about this is that you kind of liked seeing keigo make him squirm.

"it's my job," he lifts his cup up to cheers.

(you find out later on that this is when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend realized it would never work out.)

.

you're not crying when you tell keigo about the kind-of-break-up. you don't even think you feel that sad about it.

"sorry things had to end that way..." keigo says beside you, legs crossed under half of the crocheted blanket on his couch.

you give him a side-eye and notice his nose twitch. you'd know that fake sad tone anywhere.

"i was starting to warm up to him, you know..."

another nose twitch. you kick his shin under the blanket, the half on top of you rustling on top of your lap, "yeah right, nose-twitcher."

"ouch, that burned," he pretends to be hurt for the theatrics and you roll your eyes, chuckling in return.

everything about this moment is everything it should not be―it's too comfortable, too familiar, too easy. your relationship with keigo is everything you want but can't have and times like this remind you especially of that fact.

he's your best friend―

"why'd he break up with you anyway?"

―and is the reason why you can't seem to make it work with anyone else.

"i don't want to get in the way," your kind-of-ex started. you looked at him, confused.

"you have feelings for him," he further explained, "and it looks like he feels the same."

your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend said he'd caught that moment at the coffee shop as soon as he got out of the restroom―you and keigo laughing as you clinked cups.

you blink away the memory, shrugging, "don't know, just said it wasn't working out or something."

keigo hums, a beat of silence passing between the two of you before he speaks up again.

"well, it's his loss."

you turn to look at him and find sincerity; you're sure he means it, just not in the way you want him to, an awkward "thanks" mumbled under your breath.

.

things with keigo go back to the way things were, but not exactly.

his schedule miraculously clears up on the weekdays too, and he begins visiting your apartment to take you out for brunch whenever he finds the time.

he also stops going to bars and a whole year passes for him without any dating scandal, except for when he attended your graduation.

you try not to feel too happy about it, but when he's asked about the nature of your relationship, he says that you're important to him. the answer is still vague, but it's infinitely better than the way he used to evade all the previous ones.

"i'm rebranding," he tells you when you mention something about how you haven't seen any gossip tiktoks about him lately.

you push down the hope that fizzes in your chest, even when the biggest change of all is the fact that you think he's gotten clingy.

"wanna stay over again?" he asks you on a tuesday night as you're having dinner, on the table this time. you've already been here for the past two days.

you eye him suspiciously, "are you scared of your apartment or something?"

"no."

"so why?" you take a sip of water.

"no reason," he copies you, bringing his cup up higher to hide his nose; it twitches before you can catch a look.

"well, i have an early day at work tomorrow," you check your phone, "so you have to give me a better reason."

you stare at each other for a while, the silence suddenly turning a touch heavy, like suspense building up to an important scene.

he blinks. you blink.

you watch him intently, see every thought that crosses behind golden irises. he juts his lips out slightly, as if contemplating what he should say next, if he even should. it's unlike any expression you've seen on his face before, and you'd say he almost looks nervous if you only had a reference of how that emotion translates on him.

then he takes a small breath, closing his eyes half a second longer than a blink before opening them again, directing his gaze at you.

"it's better when you're around."

oh.

you don't exactly know how to respond to that; you know you shouldn't read into it too much, but then he continues―

"and i miss you when you're gone."

your breath is on hold, a measly "oh," drawn from you. time feels suspended at this dinner table, your brain finding words to say.

keigo doesn't let go of his gaze and his nose has not twitched.

you try to push it further.

"i'm," you start, already stuttering, "i'm sure you'll survive a day without your best friend."

the chuckle that escapes you gives him an option to downplay this entire thing—to turn it into a joke and make it clear once and for all that you stand no chance feeling the way you do.

except, he doesn't return your laugh. his gaze softens as he holds his stare, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile.

"and if you're more to me than just my best friend?"

you search for any sign that this is some cruel trick keigo's playing on you, that he's lying to get some kind of reaction again. but there's nothing—his nose completely still as he awaits your answer.

a/n: mostly unedited, this is so long help. at some point i started envisioning gojo ngl 😭 anyway this is my first time writing hawks! i'm not so sure if i got his character right because he's complicated but!! i enjoyed writing this (clearly with how long it is 😭😭). he knows that his nose twitch is his tell (reader told him at some point), that's why he tries to hide it sometimes! also he never truly dated anyone haha man is unfortunately very non-committal 🥹 i think getting to this point with reader is a big step! he had feelings for reader early on too but i think he's very careful with it (which is also why it took him this long to do something about it!)

hope you like this bitti! 💗

[winterrrnight]

unravel

PAIRING: frat!soft!rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: rafe has had his eyes set on the girl who isn't falling for his charms the way every girl seems to do.

WARNINGS: college!au; reader is hard to get, an ambivert, reserved; rafe is just frat!rafe in the start but slowly develops into extremely soft!rafe; a lot of comfort; rafe calls reader princess; intentional lower case

EDITH SPEAKS: this was initially just a little concept on rafe pining for a hard to get reader, but it got longer than the usual word count of my concepts so it's now a little fic! i hope this is extremely comforting cause I swear we all need this 💞🥹 just wanna say I'm here for every single one of you 💗💗

please reblog if you liked reading this! feedback is always highly appreciated 🌻

navigation || join my taglist || requests

rafe’s heard it all; hot, sexy, handsome, charming, and boy, does he eat it up each time. he knows he is a 10 out of 10, and when each girl in college is always on her knees for him, it doesn’t help but only boosts his ego.

but when you come around, it is all so different.

you don’t give into his charms the way everyone else seems to give. you aren’t running after him like a lost puppy, you aren’t pining for him, and that sets rafe off.

and that’s exactly why he needs you.

he catches you any moment he can; before class, after class, in the cafeteria, in the huge lawn, outside your dorms; any moment he sees you, he’s coming over to you, and never being able to keep his mouth shut.

“so princess…”

“shut up.”

that’s basically how all your conversations go. you roll your eyes at him each time and just walk away, but he has a smirk pulling on his lips all the damn time, always walking right next to you.

it’s like he’s forgotten about all the other girls in college. the ones who are willingly ready to take him, to give him attention every second of every day; but here he wants you, who doesn’t even make eye contact with him for more than two seconds without you rolling your eyes at him.

he always looks at you as the reserved kind of person. you aren’t seen around with a big group of friends, but just two or three close ones. you aren’t always talking, but you are quite open with your close friends. it’s hard to gather much information about you from around, and he believes that if it was the other way round, information about him would be so easily accessible. oh, and it does not help that your instagram is private and you still haven’t accepted his request.

if anything, that intrigues him even more. he wants to get close to you, to find out more about you, to unravel every thread of your existence till he knows you better than you know yourself.

it’s a nice spring afternoon, and rafe had quite few classes as compared to usual. he decides to head to the library – a place whose exact location he didn’t even know until 5 months into college – to finish this goddamned essay that’s been hanging on his head for the past week now.

as he walks inside, the vexed look on his face is instantly replaced by a quite simpered one when he spots you. he’s already making his way to you, around 20 different one liners in his head he can kick start the conversation with to see that irritated look on your face which he adores with his whole heart. but the coy smile leaves just the next second when he gets a clear look at you.

you’re crying.

your head hangs low as you’re quietly sobbing so absolutely no one else can hear you; but then the library is quite empty. your eyes are shut tight as tears roll down your hot cheeks, and rafe feels his heart physically break.

break in such a way that if you hear carefully, you can hear it shattering.

a frown etches his lips and a deep furrow forms in his brows as he slowly makes his way to you.

“princess…” he mutters softly, keeping a gentle hand on your shoulder. you’re startled at the sudden touch which causes you to gasp and makes you look up, your blurry eyes coming in contact with his warm, blue ones.

“not now rafe…” you whisper, shifting your shoulder which causes rafe’s hand to drop. you move a hand to your face to wipe off your tears, sniffling silently.

“hey talk to me…” he whispers softly, sitting down in the empty chair next to you. he doesn’t touch you in any way, just keeps a soft gaze at you and notices how you still keep your head down, trying your best to not sob as much as you were earlier. he makes a quick note of how your fingers are pulling onto each other, pinching and squeezing the flesh of them.

rafe knows for sure he’s never experienced anything sadder than watching tears roll down your pretty face. he knows it’s the last thing he wants to see. and he knows he wants to be the one who makes sure a tear never falls down your face ever again.

“listen princess…” he whispers, leaning just a bit closer to you, “you can trust me okay? you really can,” he gently places a hand over your snaked fingers, causing you to stop your fidgeting. his hand is warm, and as he gently caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, you can slowly feel your tears dying down.

rafe gently holds one of your hand and brings it up to his chest, placing it right above his heart. you look up to him, your glassy eyes slightly widened at his action. “just feel it okay?” he whispers. “try to match your breathing with it.” you feel the rhythmic thumping of his heart under your palm, and your expression softens as your eyes flutter shut, your breathing starting to match with his.

“good… good…” he whispers gently, moving his other hand to gently wipe your cheeks. his breath gets caught in his throat when he sees you don’t move away, but ever so subtly lean more into his touch.

“talk whenever you feel like, I’m not putting you in any hurry…” he mumbles, his thumb now gently skimming your cheek in a periodic manner, his palm resting against your cheek, and your face nuzzling against the warmth of his hand.

you nod at his words, just letting his soothing words, touch and presence take all over your senses, before you slowly collect your thoughts to talk to him.

if rafe would’ve earlier known that the way to your heart wasn’t dropping a snarky one liner each time he sees you, but to provide you a safe and comforting space to open up in, he would’ve done it way sooner.

because he’s finally doing what he wanted.

unraveling every thread of your existence till he knows you better than you know yourself.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @lunalitva @sadfury @shores-kayla @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @callsignwidow @starkowswife @drewstarkeyswifehoe @jjchaer @f4ll-for-you @wearemadeofstardust0 @drewsmusee @rafegirly @addriaenne @leighbronk @rafesdrew @bejeweledreverie @raf3sgff @aerangi @drewstarkey1bae @moneymaybank @spideysimpossiblegirl @the-tortured-poets-depxrtment @rafesgiirl @theoraekenslover @fals3-g0d @personalfavsthatarerandom

[walidfamily]

Help Secure a Future for a Whole Family - Me, Shatha, my husband Khaled, and our children Toleen, Walid, and Layan 👶💙

✅️ Vetting info

#1000 in the Butterfly Project 🦋 spreadsheet [here]

#246 in the @gazavetters spreadsheet [here]

#259 in the Pali.Pals spreadsheets [here]

#Vetted by @turtletoria

My name is Shatha, a mother of three children from Gaza, living through extremely harsh conditions. We have been displaced over 15 times, searching for safety, but to no avail. I have two daughters, Toleen (7 years) and Layan (2 years), and my young son Walid (4 years), who was born with a disability and is unable to walk. Walid used to receive regular physical therapy before the war, but now his condition has worsened due to the current crisis.

This is now the state of my three children in the war; they suffer from illness and malnutrition and are in need of safety and healthcare 💔🥺

Today, we are enduring severe humanitarian conditions, lacking access to food, clean water, and medicine. My children need basic essentials like milk, diapers, and clean clothes

Toleen, 7 years old, suffered during the war and couldn't finish her studies in first grade. She became sad because she lost her playroom. She loves drawing and the sea

🚨🚨 Walid, 4 years old, is the reason I started this campaign. He was born with a disability and cannot stand or walk. He used to receive regular physical therapy sessions, but due to the war, everything stopped, and his condition worsened. We need to take him out of Gaza to continue his treatment. He also requires special treatments, medical supplies, and a daily diaper

Little beautiful Layan, 2 years old, knows nothing about her childhood and has never had her own toys. She frequently falls ill due to malnutrition and the lack of healthy food, clean water, and medicine.

This Campaign is a Call for Hope, to Guide Our Children Toward a Better Tomorrow ✨

This call is for all who believe that every child deserves a life of dignity and safety. Your contribution is not just a donation; it’s an act of shaping a new life for Walid and her siblings, ensuring they grow up in a world filled with hope, away from the horrors of war.

Thanks to Your Support, We Have Made Progress, but We Still Need Your Help 💖🕊️

Thanks to your generosity, we’ve raised €3,297 of our €20,000 goal. Your support has shown us that humanity is still alive and strong. Your help is a light of hope that we’re building our children's future on.

We kindly ask for you to continue supporting us by donating or sharing our story. Together, we can ensure that our children have the safe, bright future they deserve, filled with peace and opportunities.

✅️ Vetting info

#1000 in the Butterfly Project 🦋 spreadsheet [here]

#246 in the @gazavetters spreadsheet [here]

#259 in the Pali.Pals spreadsheets [here]

Vetted by @turtletoria

@timetravellingkitty @tiredguyswag @brokenbackmountain @imjustheretotrytohelp @turtletoria @sar-soor @appsa @akajustmerry @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @feluka-blog-blog @sayruq @tortiefrancis @flower-tea-fairies @schoolhatergirl @frottingfemme @determinate-negation @death2germany @killyourhistory @heritageposts @turtletoria @valtsv @annabelle--cane @anneemay-blog @tamamita @taffybuns @taylorswift @prinnay @prisonhannibal @pcktknife @schooloutfitideas @officialspec @t-800terminator-blog @4ft10tvlandfangirl

[holllandtrash]

secret admin| charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

newest ferrari admin is starting to show favorites and the fans desperately try to put two and two together (alternate caption: ferrari admin loves to confuse the hell out of ferrari fans)

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 311,988 others 

scuderiaferrari for the charles girlies, thank you rivayacht for this content

view all 2,860 comments

danielricciardo any excuse to take your shirt off...you’re turning into russell george

paddockgf ...we’re getting a lot of charles content lately...

babyvetx i’m not complaining

yourusername nice

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, paddockgf and 848 others

yourusername montreal dumpp

view all 98 comments

yourbestfriend i thought you quit coffee

yourusername i need it to keep up with the boyz

yoursister miss you 💗 also tell c i say hi 

yourusername lol 

scuderiaferrari

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55 and 387,937 others

scuderiaferrari our boys❤️❤️

view all 1959 comments

f1 the boys in red❤️

88ricrode0 not yourusername doing damage control bc she tweeted she loves Charles💀💀

julyseb the tweet’s deleted!! 

88ricrode0 MORE DAMAGE CONTROL

carlossainz55 we look good charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 983 others

yourusername bonjour

view all 103 comments

yourbestfriend oh look she’s still drinking coffee

danielricciardo you left Montreal 4 days ago

yourusername french is my first language you idiot

youngpiastri WOAH hold up is that charles that has to be charles

f15ever i think that’s his watch???

gaslygirlies she’s sneeeakkyy

yourusername lol ya’ll are REACHING

foukart not y/n liking her own post from the ferrari account💀

liked by yourusername 

yourusername added to their story

paddockgf

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend and 2137 others

paddockgf meet y/n y/l/n, aka the girl who either works with ferrari or is besties (or more) with Charles Leclerc, we haven’t quite figured it out yet... 🤔🤔 leave your thoughts below 

view all 152 comments

yourbestfriend did you submit these pics yourself? yourusername

yourusername you’ll never know

yourusername jk i have no idea how this page got these pictures lmao

ameera are we not gonna talk about how charles liked this post

youngpiastri no we’re defo gonna talk about it😍😍

oscarpasta so does she work for charles or is she dating charles

yourusername i work for McLaren

liked by charles_leclerc and landonorris

scuderiaferrari

liked by paddockgf, danielricciardo and 20,559 others

scuderiaferrari cheesin’

view all 1,692 comments

landonorris ferrari’s newest driver?

carlossainz55 she’s not taking my seat

danielricciardo i don’t remember seeing y/n in the driver line up

paddockgf something tells me she posted on the wrong account 

mclaren admin reveal?

yourbestfriend lmaaaao nice one yourusername

post has been deleted

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 1,139 others

yourusername oops (still cheesin)

view all 113 comments

paddockgf confirmed: ferrari admin ✅✅

yourbestfriend you’re an idiot, a cute idiot, but still an idiot

charles_leclerc i keep telling her that she’s not being careful

yourusername it was bound to happen eventually

landonorris so..NOT ferrari’s newest driver?

scuderiaferrari we wish

landonorris someone take away her access to the ferrari instagram account

charles_leclerc added to their story

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend and 1,271 others

yourusername life update: I will never be a professional tennis player

view all 241 comments

danielricciardo i’m sure you handle charles’ balls just fine

yourusername please keep your comments on my post g-rated, thank you

saraf198 did not have danny ric confirming y/n and charles’ relationship on my 2023 bingo card

yourbestfriend you’re not even trying to be secret now

yourusername i don’t know what you’re talking about

F1WagUpdates screaming and crying we love this

charles_leclerc at least you posted on the right account this time

yourusername i deserve a raise for that

scuderiaferrari you do!!

landonorris stop commenting from the ferrari account

yourusername stop telling me what to do

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, pierregasly and 419,883 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc 🖤❤️

view all 2,891 comments

pierregasly did you get permission to post this?

yourusername yes, he did

paddockgf FINALLY

yourbestfriend ugh love you guys

scuderiaferrari the paddock’s cutest couple

yourusername 🥺🥺

landonorris please for the love of god, someone take away her access to the ferrari instagram account

request are open

[rubiehart]

JJ and john b love having lil competitions so the last one they had was on who can give you the most hickies 🙄

shut up i love how ur mind works junie. this is so them

༉‧₊˚✧

ur layin in bed, just chilling on ur phone wearing one of jj’s tank cut off that you cropped yourself so your necks easily accessible for both boys. jj’s lips attacking the right side of your neck while john b’s going to town on the left.

not paying much attention, (or atleast trying to make them think you aren’t) and fumbling over your instagram feed trying to look like you aren’t getting all hot and bothered, that’s until jj nips that little spot under your eyes that makes you slip out a little whimper and you feel him grin against your neck.

“‘think i got ‘er, bree.” he whispers, before focusing hestback on that spot as john b tuts disapprovingly and shakes his head making his hair brush against your jawline gently making you swallow harshly, taking your jaw harshly and connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. jj pulls away in faux shock, “hey! cheater.”

regretting this little competition once again when you’re staring at your hickey littered neck in the chateau’s bathroom mirror wondering how you’re gonna explain this one to your parents.

[tgmsunmontue]

A picture is worth 1000 words - 2/?

Hangster post-TGM events, Jake and Bradley becoming friends on Instagram through increasingly competitive thirst traps.

ONE

                Jake leans back on the sofa and takes a sip from a bottle of water, looks out the window and lets out a contented sigh. He’s been home a few days now and it feels damn good. Relaxing in a way he knows he will be well over in a couple of weeks, but for right now it’s exactly what he needs.

                “Who’s cockadoodledo?” Kara asks and Jake turns to look at his sister, who’s on her phone while also doing coloring with her two kids. Quiet time.

                “Uh… what?”

                “It’s the sound a rooster makes!”

                “You’re right, it is the sound a rooster makes…” Jake says to his four-year-old nephew, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “And other than that I don’t know what your mom is talking about.”

                “One of your Instagram followers,” Kara says, waving her phone in the air as if to prove what she’s looking at and Jake clicks.

                “Oh. Huh. Funny. It’s probably one of the guys in my squad, his callsign is Rooster.”

                “Really? Rooster? Why’s that?”

                “Uh…”

                “Oh, is this a conversation we should be having over a glass of wine when young ears are asleep?”

                “No! I mean… I don’t have any firsthand… information or knowledge.”

                “Well, he might want to give it to you because he told you that you look good.”

                “What?”

                “On Instagram Jake. Keep up.”

                Jake sighs and reaches for his phone, because Kara clearly wants him to look, and he doesn’t spend a lot of time on it, uses it to keep in touch with people when he’s away from them. He opens up Instagram and sure enough there are notifications, new follower requests and comments and there it is, under the picture he posted a couple of days ago.

                Looking good Hangman.

                Jake sucks both his lips into his mouth, wonders if Bradshaw is trying to… say something.

                Anything.

                He then goes and has a look at Bradshaw’s profile and pictures and almost swallows his tongue. He hadn’t been expecting that. Bradshaw had never struck him as the kind of guy to post photos like… that. Not that he’s complaining.

                Fucking hell.

                Did he post this in response to Jake’s own picture? He was fully dressed. That wasn’t… it wasn’t suggestive at all. His sister took that photo.

                “What? What are you looking at? You’ve just gone bright red,” Kara says, and she’s scrambling up from the floor and making grabby hands for his phone and he lets her take it from him, knows better than to try and fight her off.

                “Whoooooo boy. This is Rooster? Damn…”

                “Kara!”

                “I have eyes Jake!”

                “What are you doing?” Jake asks, because she’s taking longer than needed to just look at a photo, wonders if she’s scrolling through the others.

                “Replying in kind… and done!”

                She hands it back and Jake actually has time to look at Bradshaw’s profile, and he seems to have a lot of pictures for a guy who hadn’t seemed to even know how to use Instagram a few days ago. Then he reads the replies to the post and his stomach starts to sink, because Bradshaw definitely didn’t post this in response to Jake. It was posted five days ago, the first day proper of their leave and the same day they’d all met up for dinner before departing in different directions for six weeks.

                Who the hell is Mahuika? He’s following them and they’re following him, and okay, it’s Phoenix. So she’s… what? Taking photos of Bradshaw and posting them? Does she have access to Bradshaw’s phone, or just his Instagram account? He’s pretty sure that Phoenix wouldn’t be commenting on any of his posts, but Bradshaw… might?

                Maybe?

                Has?

                Jake is so confused. Then he reads the comment Kara has typed in and pulls a face. Okay then. He'll have to see how this plays out.

THREE

[blue-jisungs]

Hii ⭐

Txt with an idol s/o

Can u write this? 😸

you’re an idol ♡

a/n. hello anon! sorry you had to wait for so long, i hope u like it though!! i kind of wanted to write it as well but you gave me the perfect opportunity hehe

you can also find enha version here!! :D

┆彡 YEONJUN [ 연준 ]

oh boy

first of all (and everyone saw it coming)… he absolutely devours your group’s choreos

like okay you’re his gf blah blah but he still will outshine you in the tiktoks you’re making because of your comebacks 😔

and also?? he’s always the first person ever to film a tiktok challenge w u and vice versa…. like your song could be out for only one hour and there’s already a tiktok of u two dancing (nooo not suspicious at all wdym)

other than that he’s such a sweetheart :(

he knows when you’re recording in the studio and will always make sure to drop by and bring you snacks/drinks, even if your company is on the other side of the town

or when he can’t get there in person he’ll send an uber to you with some food with cute sticky notes attached (“fighting! <3”)

and oh boy dating him means that you have access to his closet *-*

so while your fans call you an fashion icon, yeonjun is rolling his eyes at the fact that those are literally his clothes (“i styled them though!” “but y/n–?!”)

takes u on cute lil days usually in the evening and you’re the one who takes his candid pics to post on instagram username yawnzzn 😄😄😄😄😄

and if you have private insta you post pics that he took of you as well ^_^ but if you have an official acc you just wait a bit with posting so the fans won’t be able to connect the dots too quickly

and and :( he’s so cute like!! “yeah there was (your fav group) comeback right?? and they were on inkigayo, right??” *casually whips out a signed album* “oh and also i got (your bias)’s phone number and i gave them yours, they told me they’ll call you!!! i said you’d love to meet up and maybe film a challenge?”

fainting rn

will get jealous tho if u keep blabbing abt your bias so please cover him in kisses n cuddle w him :)

┆彡 SOOBIN [ 수빈 ]

papa bunny is treating you like one of his members

he can be sweet sometimes too 🙄

but most of the time he’ll scold u if you’re not sleeping/eating/resting enough… and also if you’re skipping practices

he’ll snitch to your leader?? or manager??

like tf.

but he’s so so cute :(

if you happen to have comebacks in similar time, you always end up opening each other’s albums!!

or even if it’s for example you, you’ll watch him open all the versions of the albums

bc he’s a fanboy. and you know it he’ll be your fanboy too <3

however filming tiktoks w him when you have a challenge… yeah good luck.

but it only takes one “oh okay i’ll go ask yeonjun then–“ and he’s there shaking his ass

he’ll be grumpy later tho 🙄

(“how could u even think of asking him when i’m your boyfriend!!!!!”)

fans think you’re really really close friends (esp if you’re under hybe too) so they’re like

“oh look!! y/n attended txt’s concert!! their friendship is so so cute!!”

and then you’re making out backstage… yeah cute friendship indeed :)

also expect him to tear up if you’re tearing up on a stage or at home bc you’re so overwhelmed by your fans support :( he just can’t help it + he’s super proud of u

┆彡 BEOMGYU [ 범규 ]

cutie patootie on the highest levels :”)

just like soobin – he’s iu fanboy so ofc he’ll be yours too!!! will attend your concerts, have your light stick and pc collection

obv he’s acting like he doesn’t

in private you often sing each other’s songs

and he’d cover some of them on guitar ^_^

he’s constantly singing your songs underneath his breath

will even dance randomly, sometimes during to x do and the boys r like —.—

takes care of you….. you’re constantly on his mind, he’s so thoughtful

he’ll see one (1) bruise and right away inspect if you’re not going too hard on yourself <\\3

also gossips abt you with your band members 😑

and they send him pics of you when you’re not looking 😑😑

you both are trying your best to be careful abt your relationship but the fans are a little suspicious after you quite often… reference him or his lines

and he’s,,, well, himself and doesn’t really care

so sooner or later fans figure out lol!

but it’s not that bad actually <\\3

┆彡 TAEHYUN [ 태현 ]

realistically speaking he’ll be the smartest with your relationship like no way in hell people would figure out

but he’s so cute help i love him sm :(

he carries a key chain of your representative animal near his keys and just!!! <\\3

he’ll take such good care of you too like 🥹

he knows it all abt taking care of your vocals and body esp when you’re working hard

so he’s pops in to your studio with warm water with honey and straight on acts like it just? fell from the sky?

“idk what do you mean i did not prepare this and carry just for you?? you’re so delusional sometimes i just found it on the street 😑 but drink it all”

yeah sure 🥰

and kind of bullies you intro working out but in the end working out with him is fun so you don’t mind :D

not only your fans are falling in love w u more and more hehehe but also tae also takes care of you after a harsh work out session so…. <3

and he’ll never admit but he loves your songs!! often uses some of them as a warm up or just hums then when he’s alone

will know a lot of choreos of yours as well but he’d rather die than say it out loud

but when he’s with guys tho

(he thinks it’s not that noticeable but it so is)

also if your company sucks ass he will not hesitate to do something about it – whether i’m person, email them or even hire someone to act on it 😳

mans got money, okay? and balls too. and also huge huge love for you 😌 so he’ll do whatever it takes if your comfort is being threatened

┆彡 HUENING KAI [ 휴닝카이 ]

dispatch announced u as a couple and honestly this is the best outcome bc kai would have spilled it anyways

and needless to say you are like everyone’s fav :(

let’s be real, you two are cuties patooties so i’m not even surprised ^_^

fans set matching pfps of your pics :(

and kai is such a sweetheart he started collecting plushies of your representative animal and if you have a plushie (like bt21, skzoo) of you then he’ll just buy every single one that comes out + clothes :(

sleeps w them too :( esp when one of you is on a tour <\\3

oh and also on tours :( you’ll play on nintendos, animal crossing or something and leave notes for each other

or face time while you play and kai zones out sometimes bc he keeps staring at u and thinking how much he misses u instead of playing ☹️

you have the access card to each others companies (if you’re not in hybe) and the staff there is just 🧍‍♀️

loves you to death but is jealous how often you text and hang out with his sisters

esp if you film a tiktok with them first?? and then him?? offended (at least 20 kisses are needed to make him happy again)

carries your pcs everywhere!! wallet, phone case, attached to his bag in those cute little holders

supports u on the FULLEST ?!

sends trucks w coffees or snacks at your filming locations, attends your concerts, goes to events w you and promotes your songs on weverse :”)

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @kazmura ,, @primoppang

[clustxr]

hi y'all. i know i don't make a lot of original posts here. however, on may 31st, i watched as my friends and peers were brutalized at the hands of cops from departments across california.

edit 6/12/24: students for justice in palestine at uc santa cruz has published a press release. it is easily the best way to understand what happened that night. please take a few minutes to read it.

uc santa cruz police made a statewide call for mutual aid in order to disband the gaza solidarity encampment located at the main entrance of the campus - initially established at the quarry in the center of campus on may 1, it moved to the entrance on may 20 in solidarity with the UAW strike. on tuesday, may 28, protesters barricaded the main entrance, cutting off the primary way of getting on campus; though the western entrance to UCSC was left unblocked (except for a few hours on tuesday), the main entrance remained obstructed until the raid began late on thursday night. this road blockage is what admin cited as the reason for the raid, along with "campus safety" and "academic freedom".

it's important to note that prior to blocking the road, students had been encamped for 28 days, and had been holding peaceful, law-abiding rallies since october. nothing worked. months of following the guidelines that admin had set, and of course student voices were dismissed and ignored by chancellor cynthia larive and cpevc lori kletzer (the latter of whom, by the way, showed up at 6 am "walking her dog" and smiled while watching her students get suffocated and beaten). the escalation would never have happened if student demands had been met at the very beginning.

hundreds of cops in riot gear from as far out as uc davis showed up to abuse students. over 115 arrests were made, including 3 ucsc professors, transported off by buses that were fifteen years past their intended end-of-use date and had also been servicing the campus prior. is this "campus safety"? is this "academic freedom"?

from just before midnight until approximately 9am on friday, cops kettled, suffocated, shoved, yanked, beat, and bruised students. one got a battery charge for writhing and bumping a cop after another slammed him in the head with a baton. another had a bag placed over their head, leading to suffocation, vomiting, and loss of consciousness. at least two protesters were confirmed to go to the ER that morning; many more have had to seek medical attention for lasting injuries.

arrestees were given a 14-day campus ban, including those who live on-campus (functionally evicting them & preventing access to their belongings), not to mention subjected to horrifyingly inhumane conditions:

you can find more information on various instagram accounts such as ucscsjp, ucscdivest, fjpucsc, ucsc_encampment, & jawsucsc. there's plenty of other organizations and people posting about this, too. please, don't let ucsc brush this under the rug. demand amnesty for the arrestees and protesters. contact any ucsc admin you can find. the uc has been utilizing police brutality to repress student voices across their institution, with ucla and uc irvine also being victims of this violence. do not let them get away with it.

free palestine, from the river to the sea. if seeing this violence sickens you, remember that this is not even a fraction of what the people of palestine have been enduring for decades. we will not let the university silence us, no matter what.

[writers-potion]

Plot Templates for Dark Fiction

MC hears about danger and mocks it as unreal, and ses out to prove that it's not real. He enlists the helps of a loyal but reluctant friend/servant/colleague/lover. -> Things get stranger and they fall into real danger -> MC fights the threat, narrowly getting away with his life. -> The danger gets even worse -> The threat is defeated, and the friend often pays a terrible price.

A danger threats the MC's community and he is the only one who can defeat it -> First Failure -> Second Failure -> She learns something important, and wins.

MC wants to belong to a community (secret society, gang, etc.) -> He works to convince the others that he is worthy of being a member -> He is granted initiation -> He works harder to be taken into the Inner Circle -> He realizes that the community is evil -> Will he go ahead or back out? (A) End with the realization (B) His conscience wins and he sacrifices himself (C) He decides to go ahead, enjoying the evil.

He devotes himself to fighting the evil -> She makes sacrifices for the good -> She realizes that what she has fought for is actually evil, and the people around her were right.

An innocent MC observes the actions of others -> The reader picks up on the subtext that there's something evil while the MC goes around, naive.

MC is urged by a friend not to pursue a dangerous venture -> The venture turns out to be harder than it seemed -> He barely escapes from the danger and seeks help -> Help does not arrive and the MC fights against the menace -> the friend/traitor falls into their own trap they've laid for the MC

Newly dead MC wakes undead as a ghost/zombie/vampire -> He has unfinished business to conclude and sets out for his mission -> He meets unexpected obstacles in the world of the undead -> He realizes something new and forfeits the initial mission

MC is obsessed hunting a monster/evil creature -> He nearly dies but prevails -> He takes a trophy home but realizes that the monster had got to his family first -> His triumph becomes meaningless

MC believes that an evil creature/monster is actually innocent -> She sets out to win its trust and tames it -> She succeeds and lets her guard down -> The monster attacks her

MC wants to overcome a personal fear -> He succeeds after many attempts -> He realizes that in this instance he should have listened to his instincts - he has become an easy victim

MC is a semi-sympathetic character whom the reader can understand, but not quite like -> He obsessively plots to get the justice/love he thinks he deserves -> He realies he has falledn into his won trap/walked into a rival's similar trap -> He tries desperately to escape -> MC dies knowing that he obsessions have brought his own demise.

MC is a righteous character -> She lands in a situation with only two options, which are immoral.

MC plots to bring the downfall of another character -> He is betrayed by his most trusted friend

MC schemes to trap another person -> She realizes too late that she has been outsmarted/fallen into her own trap

These are some common plot progressions, so feel free to explore with other types!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* . ───

💎If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 

💎Before you ask, check out my masterpost part 1 and part 2 

💎For early access to my content,  become a Writing Wizard 

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Suites & Sweets

freshman year at Jujutsu University Tokyo seems like it will be uneventful. and, well, that's true... until you meet the boys in the suite across the hall, and one in particular piques your interest.

satoru gojo x reader | jjk college au | no curse au | fem! reader | fluff, angst, & slow burn | SMAU & writing <3

introduction | previous | next PSA: *look HERE to see their private instagrams!*

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

ˋ°•*⁀➷˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 9. 𝓣𝓗𝓔 𝓜𝓞𝓥𝓘𝓔 ⍣ ೋ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ... wc: 2.1k cw: smoking

The microwave beeps, yelling at you to retrieve your bag of freshly popped popcorn from it. You choose a drink from the fridge and rush to retrieve your movie snack, then pour it into a bowl for easy access. There is already another popcorn heating up in the microwave as Shoko prepares one for herself.

In the living room, your friends claimed their spots among the couch, floor, and futon already. You carry your bowl and beverage into the lounge area to find a place to sit for the movie. Most of the spots are at this point taken: there are a few empty spaces on the floor, a spot beside Utahime you assume is reserved for Shoko as the pair is sharing snacks, and an available spot beside Satoru on the two-person sofa, but not anything else. The large sofa is occupied by Mei Mei, Nanami, and Yu, all comfortably sitting on their phones, waiting for everyone to be ready. Suguru sits on the floor in front of Yu, claiming he prefers it over the couch because it "grounds" him.

You hear your name being spoken across the room and you perk up to look for the source. "Sit here," a low voice you've grown familiar with requests. You watch as Satoru pats the spot beside him on the loveseat with a polite smile on his face. Silently, you return the smile and nod, agreeing to sit next to him.

After walking over to your newly assigned spot, you place your popcorn bowl on the coffee table in front of the couch and grab a coaster for your drink. Before sitting down, you remember you wanted your fluffy blanket from your room, so with a quick be right back!, you rush to get it.

"Thought you were running away from me for a sec," Satoru laughs once you return with your blanket.

"That's actually exactly what I was doing," you flick his shoulder with your pointer finger and thumb. He laughs and steals a hand full of your popcorn as retribution. "Get your own!" you huff.

"Nah, 'm good with these," Satoru leans into the back of the couch, stretching his arms to span the back of the sofa. You feel the warmth of his body heat behind your head and unconsciously lean into it. His hand finds its way to your far shoulder and pinches it.

"Hey!" you swat at the hand attacking you. "You're so annoying."

He mockingly sticks his tongue out at you, but before you can respond, Utahime stands in front of the TV to carry out her hostess duties.

"Does anyone need anything before we begin?" she smiles and you giggle at how seriously she takes her role. When nobody says anything, Hime claps her hands together and continues with enthusiasm, "Alright! Lets watch the movie!"

The Truman Show begins to play, and as much as you love the movie, it's difficult to pay attention when Satoru's hand lingers above your shoulder, his touch whispering against your neck in a tempting promise that makes it a struggle to pay attention to Jim Carrey's acting. You're unsure as to why his touch is so distracting or how his hand brushing against your shoulder sends sparks down your arm, but the tickle of his fingers brushing ever-so-gently across your soft skin is the only thing you can focus on.

You adjust your position, stretching your legs perpendicular over Satoru's when you lay across the couch. He watches you move before stealing even more popcorn from the bowl you set on your lap. Then, he sets his hands down. And even though a fluffy blanket covers them from direct contact with the skin of your thighs, you curse yourself for just as distracted as before. Instead of watching the movie, you watch his hands, committing them to memory for future daydreams.

But whatever, it's fine. Everything is fine.

You repeat that in your mind for over an hour.

Honestly, you're kind of disappointed about the movie choice. The Truman Show is great and all and really brings out the existentialism in you, but a horror movie would be great right now. Maybe if The Conjuring was on, you could jump into Satoru's arms and-

What?

Okay, calm down. Everything is fine.

You hear your name. "Huh?"

"Are you okay?" Satoru laughs. "You've been staring at the screen for like five minutes. I can assure you the credits are not that interesting."

"Oh! Sorry. Just re-evaluating every moment in my life, you know. Because what if this is all a TV show?" you ramble. The true reason for your utter dissociation from reality cannot be revealed to him. "Y'know, you could just be some hired actor, or whatever. What if my entire existence was fabricated-"

"How do I know that you're not a paid actor in a world set up for me?" interrupts the white-haired boy.

"No one in their right mind would sign up for that," Suguru prods.

"Yeah, that's, like, a death wish," agrees Utahime.

"Hey!" Satoru grabs the throw pillow beside you and aims it at Suguru, throwing it as if it were a missile.

"They're not wrong," Kento adds.

"No one asked you, Nanami," Satoru squints his eyes at the blond boy.

"Shit, he got last-named," Mei gasps.

"I need a smoke," Shoko groans, hand slamming against her forehead in exasperation.

"I brought shit if you wanna," Suguru says as he reties his hair into a neat bun, Satoru's missile having messed it up.

"Yes," Shoko claps, and her face screams excitement at the thought of a joint.

"'Kay. Anyone else wanna join?"

"I will," you say, standing from your spot. "Just gonna grab a jacket first."

"When would I ever say no to that?" Gojo grins.

---

It's chilly standing outside in the night's breeze. The wind hugs your body through your fuzzy pajama pants, hoodie, and jacket. Street lamps light your path as the four of you head away from campus toward a local park less than ten minutes from your dorm. You hold Shoko's hand as the two of you walk together toward the outdoor basketball courts, sitting on the asphalt beside each other.

Suguru digs through his pocket and grabs a pre-rolled joint and a lighter. He swiftly lights it and takes a puff, takes another and passes it to Satoru who repeats the process. A cycle of puff, puff, pass begins, the air reeking of the marijuana. As you breathe in the smoke, you feel it course through your system, rushing to your brain bringing along a light haze. Your head feels lighter, your body relaxes, and you become giggly after only a few hits.

The four of you (Yu, Kento, Mei, and Utahime didn't want to go out in the cold) sit on the old, blacktop basketball court in a circle. The full moon illuminates the night, the cloudy sky taking it away every now and then.

Under the moonlight, you learn more about the boys as they open up about their lives. Suguru, Satoru, Yu, and Kento went to a fancy private school together in Tokyo. When Suguru first met Satoru freshman year, he despised him, but Satoru eventually took a sledgehammer to the walls Suguru built and Suguru let him in, semi-willingly. They met Yu and Kento, and, somewhere along the way, the four of them formed an unbreakable bond.

After twenty-or-so minutes of conversation and a text from an irritated Utahime, you decide it is time to walk back. Suguru and Shoko lead the way as you walk beside Satoru, lagging a bit behind the other two.

"Are you busy tomorrow?" Satoru's white hair glows in the reflection of the moonlight.

"Umm, yeah, I'm grabbing coffee with Yu and our other friend from Sociology. Why? You wanna do something?" You glance at him as you walk, his face looking ahead with a thoughtful expression.

"Yeah, but 'sokay," he turns to look at you with a bright smile. "I hope you have fun!"

"Thanks! If you really wanna hang out, we can, though. I'm free later in the day!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!"

"Okay perfect, because there's an arcade not far from here I wanna go to."

"That sounds like so much fun!"

"Right? I think so too!" Satoru wraps an arm around your shoulders. "We're just two peas in a pod, then, aren't we? I'm thinking... hm... maybe go there at 6:30?"

"Yeah, that should work-"

"Perfect!" Satoru squeezes your shoulder, pulling you more into his side as he walks. "Can't wait, angel."

Your palms feel sweaty and you are overly aware of the closeness between you and Satoru, so when Shoko yells for you to catch up, you speed your pace to reach her. Suguru says something to Satoru about Kento's hair that morning which gets Blue Eyes talking about how Suguru just has to get an eyebrow piercing, which somehow leads to how the mochi the dining hall serves isn't sweet enough, then to their lack of sweet breakfast options, and then you finally reached the entrance to the dorms and enter suite 12B.

Immediately after you return, Yu declares it's time for Uno, and everyone complies. After a few rounds, though, the cards are forgotten as conversation has taken over.

Mei Mei looks at you beside her, hesitating before she inquires, "How are things with Toji?"

"Frat guy Toji?" asks Satoru, and she nods in response.

"What do you mean?" you tilt your head at her.

"Like... what is the relationship status?" Mei winks at you with a teasing grin.

"Um, well, honestly, he's been giving brotherly vibes recently."

"What?" Suguru laughs. "Your man?"

"I mean, he's not my man, really. We went on a date and had sex once last week - before he was texting me all this overprotective 'Anyone ever hurts you, lemme know' shit," you shrug. "Was kind of a turnoff."

"Really? I think overprotective guys are so hot," Utahime puts the back of her hand on her forehead as if she's fawning over the thought.

"Well, it would be maybe... but something about the way he said it just gave me a weird feeling. Like he's so hot, but I never felt that so-called spark in the first place, and I knew he would be a fling from the beginning. So I'm not too bummed."

"Sounds like you're handling this pretty well," Kento says to you, and Satoru nods beside him.

"There's really nothing to handle. I'll still have him in my life as friends. He's actually a pretty cool guy!" You smile widely at your friends.

Wanting to shift topics, you ask Suguru about a dragon tattoo you saw the other day on his arm, and he dives into the entire background story of it getting it and what it means to him: "As grave as it is, often the most dire dragons we conquer are the ones that reside within us. The dragon reminds me that I am above fear, and even in my darkest days, I am strong enough to get through whatever "dragon" or obstacle I encounter. If that makes sense."

"That's beautiful, Suguru," you say, eyes welling with tears at how passionate he is.

"Very philosophical!" Mei Mei adds.

"Thank you," Suguru says with some hesitation.

"How long have you all known each other?" Kento asks you, Shoko, Utahime, and Mei Mei.

"Hm... well Shoko and I met in middle school," You smile at the memory. "She yelled at some boys who were bothering me and we've been attached by the hip ever since!"

"And you two?" Suguru questions.

"Sophomore year chemistry. We were in a lab group together," Utahime turns to you with a mischievous look. "Wait, remember when Ino caught your hair on fire?"

"Holy shit, I forgot," you bring a hand to cover your mouth to muffle your laugh. "The ends were singed foreverrr."

"Ino?" Satoru looks at you, his eyes saying something you cannot discern.

"Her lousy ex," Shoko waves off. "Old news. Not important."

"What did he do? Cheat?" Yu pokes. When you and the girls stare blankly at him, he quietly continues, "Oh, okay. He cheated, I guess."

"And his best friend practically tormented me the entire time we were together," you elaborate. The room lulls to a quiet that isn't exactly uncomfortable, but there is definitely some tension in the air.

"Should we turn on another movie? I feel in the mood to watch something," Kento breaks the silence, and after everyone agrees, a comedy movie is chosen and everyone settles into the same spots they were in before.

Not too far into the movie, your head leans on Satoru, so he turns to check on you. But you're asleep - you dozed off, cheek smushed against his shoulder. You look so cute.

The smile on his face lingers even long after he falls asleep.

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the end was kinda rushed ngl but hope you like this regardless iluuuuu

also no ino hate i love that cutie

[baekhyunsbestie]

expanding on baekhyun beating it to his so's pics to say imagine him facetiming her in the middle of it cuz he needs to really see herrrr and ur like hi bby wait why is ur face so concentrated and also why is ur arm moving up and down underneath the camera and OH o_o

omgggg i can picture this sooooo vividly it hurts 😭😭😭😭 i literally had to write about it!!!!

18+/MDNI!! | wc: 1.6k+

you and baekhyun have each other’s locations shared, as couples and loved ones often do these days. he’s currently out of the country for a packed schedule and won’t be back for a few more days. you’ve both adjusted to the chaos of his life, as hard as it can be. but the bond you share? unshakable, no matter the distance or time apart.

tonight, though, he’s lying alone in his hotel bed, missing you more than usual. he knows you had plans with your friends, a rare night out you’ve been needing for a while. he checks the time: 11:30 p.m. back home. too early for you to be back, and he knows it.

still, he can’t help himself. he checks your location.

still at the bar.

he exhales, sinking deeper into his pillow. he doesn’t want to bother you. you deserve this—an escape from the stress that’s been weighing you down. he’d rather you enjoy yourself than feel guilty for being out late.

so instead, he unlocks his phone and opens instagram, likely to doom-scroll through endless posts, letting the minutes slip away as he waits for you to get home safely and for the comfort of your nightly goodnight call.

but then, your story flickers onto the screen, pulling him in, a sudden spark in the otherwise dull scroll.

the first post is a mirror selfie: hair falling just right, effortlessly perfect, makeup soft yet glowing, and that simple black dress—one of his many favorites—clinging to your curves in all the right ways. when he notices the timestamp, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. you sent this to him first. it’s a small gesture, but it makes his heart swell.

the next slide is a quick clip of you and your girls, all glammed up, drinks in hand, raising your glasses with laughter as the music blares in the background. your happiness is so tangible, so infectious, and it warms him to see you this carefree.

then, there’s a repost from your friend. it’s a grainy but adorable video of you and her dancing, swaying in sync with the beat. the way you playfully twerk on her, both of you giggling uncontrollably, is far from suggestive—just two besties reveling in the moment.

but baekhyun is a man. and men? they think with their dicks.

his mind wanders, lingering on the way that dress clung to you, the way your body moved. and now, no matter how much he tries to focus on how happy you look, he’s suddenly cursing the miles between you, wishing for the kind of proximity that doesn’t involve a screen.

he checks the time again: 11:37 p.m.

the urge to reach out to you—text, call, anything—burns hotter with every passing second. he’s jittery, restless, the kind of edgy that leaves his leg bouncing uncontrollably. would you even answer if he called? the thought gnaws at him. god, he misses you. he misses the nights you’d stumble out of bars, dialing him with drunken, slurred words. how you'd insist you weren’t done drinking because the only thing left on your menu was him.

shit. the memories alone have him stiffening in his bed, blood rushing south faster than he can stop it. the sound of your drunk giggles, your uninhibited honesty spilling out between hiccupped words. the way your hands would roam without permission, needy and brazen. he exhales a shaky breath. the ache in his boxers is unbearable now.

he can’t take it anymore.

his fingers unlock his phone, navigating to the photos app to access the hidden folder only you know about. his secret stash. a digital gallery of you: alone, with him, under him, and on top of him. his free hand drifts to his leaking cock as his thumb swipes through the memories.

you knew about this folder, of course. you had your own—filled with matching treasures. you both had this shared indulgence, a mutual obsession. pictures and videos from every angle: your hands clutching the sheets while he buried his face between your thighs. you straddling him, his camera catching the perfect view of your curves. shaky, raw footage of backshots, his hands leaving fiery-red imprints on your skin as you moaned his name into the mattress.

you needed these to survive the nights apart, a remedy for the distance that stung like a wound that wouldn’t heal.

truthfully, even if you saw each other every day, you’d still keep these folders. you both had a thing for cameras, for the thrill of capturing your rawest moments together.

his fist wraps around his length, the other clutching his phone as he presses play. it’s a video of you riding him, your hips grinding against him in a slow, torturous rhythm. the camera shakes slightly—it’s shot from his perspective, the faint tremble of his arm betraying how badly he was already losing it then.

his lips part, breath hitching, and his heart pounds loud enough to drown out the rest of the world. but it’s not enough. it never is. he needs more.

he needs you.

he taps the screen, fingers shaking as he hits 'facetime.'

you answer on the second ring.

it’s 12:55 a.m.

your face comes into view, filling the screen with a teasing smile as you nudge open the door to your shared penthouse. the faint hum of city lights spills in behind you, but all your attention is on him. one glance is enough—his brows are knitted together, lips slightly parted, the cool glow of his phone illuminating his face and glistening off his glossy lips. you know exactly why he’s calling.

“hi, baby,” you slur, voice syrupy with just enough bite, “i miss you so much.”

“i miss you too, my angel,” he exhales, his voice barely more than a whisper, chest rising and falling in measured, aching pulls. from where you stand, you see everything—the way his shirt clings to his body, damp in all the right places, the faint quiver of his lips holding back words he’s too desperate to say. the sound of his breath, uneven and needy, fills the air between you. his gaze burns, molten and consuming, pouring his hunger into every inch of your skin.

you giggle, a sound light and teasing, as you saunter toward your shared room. "i can tell, lover."

his smile is shy, almost boyish, but not enough to stop the slow, steady stroke of his hand over his aching length. "home already?"

you nod, a quiet hum slipping past your lips as you step into the closet, the soft shuffle of your feet muted against the carpet. your fingers trail over the familiar fabrics until they find your favorite pajamas. as you pull them from their place, you cross the room to the dresser, propping your phone against its edge. the glow of the screen bathes the space in muted light, capturing him on the other side—his hand moving with practiced rhythm, his flushed face a picture of unguarded bliss, every gasp and twitch drawing you deeper into the moment.

"ya looked so beautiful tonight. fuck—" his words falter, the shaky gasp making your thighs press together. "y’know i love that dress on you. can’t believe i wasn’t—hah—there to fuck you in it."

you grin, a wicked curl tugging at the corners of your lips. “i could keep this dress on a little longer for you if you’d like me to, baekhyunie,” you purr, your voice a delicate weave of honey and innocence, teasing just enough to leave him craving.

his breath hitches, a sharp exhale breaking free as his head falls back, throat exposed in a display of surrender. “hah— fuck, s-say that again,” he rasps, eyes clenched shut like he’s bracing himself against the tidal wave you’ve unleashed. his hand moves faster now, the slick sound of his strokes filling the space between you.

you tilt your head, feigning naivety, your eyes wide and sweet like sugar dusted cherries. “huh? say what, baekhyunie?” your voice lilts with mock innocence, the act so it’s almost cruel.

as you shift, the delicate strap of your dress slips, baring your shoulder and collarbone—a canvas of temptation. soft, lickable, and oh-so-bitable. baekhyun's gaze sears through the screen, his mind unraveling with reckless fantasies, aching to bridge the distance and claim you, over and over again, losing himself in you until the sun rises.

the sight of you, the way his name drips from your lips—it’s his undoing. his rhythm falters, the once-steady motion of his hand becoming erratic, desperate. he’s unraveling, and you can see it in the furrow of his brow, hear it in the staggered cadence of his breath. you lean closer, your voice dropping into a sultry whisper.

“gonna cum f’me, baekhyunie?”

the way your voice softens his name, rolling off those plush lips, breaks him into pieces. the sensation crashes over him, an overwhelming rush that leaves him shaking, the heat of his release spilling in thick, white streaks across his toned stomach, splattering his shirt in wild, chaotic lines. your name escapes him in a breathless murmur as he rides the last tremors of his high.

you smile, satisfied with the mess you’ve made of him, the power you wield with nothing but your voice and a knowing glance.

as he comes down, his chest heaving, baekhyun peels his ruined shirt off, using it to clean himself up. when his face reappears on the screen, there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes, a wicked curve to his mouth.

“your turn, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice still rough with pleasure.