#I’m so exhausted and tired and I just want to sleep

[stevesgother]

Can you do something with Steve x pregnant! reader? Maybe fluff to smut or insecure pregnant! reader to smut? Idk I’m babbling, I love your writing btw!!

18+

mmmm i love this! i feel like steve would literally be at your every beck and call while you're pregnant. you're carrying precious cargo, like, of course he'd want to make sure you're as comfy as possible.

it'd be well into the middle of the night, and you just can't fall asleep. every position causes one part of your body or another discomfort--

your constant tossing and turning rouses the sleeping man next to you, but rather than being annoyed for the early wakeup call, he's concerned.

"can't sleep, baby?" Steve asks groggily from beside you.

"just can't get comfortable," you sigh in response, "my back kills."

he shuffles closer-- the musky scent of sleep and something ineffably steve invading your senses. his calloused hands begin to rub firmly up and down the column of your back and over the hills of your shoulders and you noticeably relax into him.

"this helping?" he asks.

"mhm," you nod, gratefully, "thank you, stevie,"

"'course," he says and continues his ministrations on your exhausted muscles. you can feel the hardness of his morning wood pressing into your backside, but he makes no attempt to initiate anything intimate with you. he simply continues massaging you in an attempt to ease your discomfort.

heat pools low in your belly at the thought of him hard under his boxers-- only a one, thin layer of fabric separating you. your hormones have been all out of wack the past few weeks, having just began your second trimester.

without so much as speaking, you take his hand in yours-- halting his movements over your shoulders. slowly, so slowly, you guide his hand to where your arousal is collecting between your thighs. he stifles a groan upon feeling how wet you are for him.

he begins placing languid, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive spots just below your ear, "need something else, baby?" he asks, and you can feel the grin on his face growing against your skin.

you sigh at the sensation, "just you."

"yeah? need me to tire my girl out?" steve questions as he gently ruts his hips against your ass-- making it all the more apparent just how much he wants you.

his middle and index finger slip below the trim of your cotton panties, idly circling your clit in slow, relaxed motions. you release an airy whine at the feeling, circling your hips in time with his fingers to encourage him to keep going.

"that feel good, honey?" steve asks, voice husky and low in your ear, sending a chill down your spine and blood straight to your core.

"yes," you whisper in the stillness of the room, "god--don't stop,"

he picks up his pace just slightly, the hand under your neck curls around to play with your breasts-- swollen and attention-starved. his deft fingers gently pinch and roll your nipple through your sleep shirt, eliciting a moan from your lips.

"need more, steve," you pant into the empty space in front of you.

"you want my cock or my fingers, baby?" he sounds more desperate than he did minutes ago, though you can tell he's trying hard to maintain his composure. you think he must be leaking like a sieve behind the cotton of his boxer briefs.

"need you to fuck me like this," you whine, needy as ever. steve wastes no time ridding himself of his underwear, taking his length into his hand and pumping a few times before sliding the head of his cock through your slick.

"god-- you feel so good. so beautiful carrying our baby," he praises in your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your skin. steve had never made you feel anything less than stunning, even when you felt bloated and crampy from pregnancy. to him-- you were as gorgeous as gorgeous could be.

he takes your leg and carefully guides it behind you and over his hip-- opening you up for him and effectively entangling himself with you.

"just relax, sweetheart," he instructs as he slowing sheaths himself on you cunt, "i've got you."

you can't help the small cry that escapes when he's fully seated inside you. steve keeps a firm grip on your thigh, seeing to it that you don't expend any unnecessary energy holding it up for him as he picks up his pace-- sliding with ease in and out of your entrance.

"feels so good, stevie," you whine, "just like that, oh--"

the springs of your mattress squeak quietly underneath your bodies and he continues thrusting into you. steve had always been well-endowed, but you've been infinitely more sensitive since you became pregnant-- something your obgyn had warned you about. your orgasms arrive quicker and more powerfully than they ever have before, and you find yourself lasting for half the time you used to.

"can feel you gettin' tighter, baby," steve says through gritted teeth from behind you-- trying to stave off his own release, "you gonna come for me? huh?"

"yes!" you shout, "don't stop--" turning your head to capture his lips in a kiss over your shoulder. one of your hands moves to grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, securing his lips against yours.

"touch yourself." steve commands, sweaty foreheads pressed together and panting into one another's mouths.

you own shaky fingers travel south to where your achy clit begs for some stimulation. the second your fingers begin circling it, the white-hot pleasure of your impending orgasm floods you from head to toe.

"steve!" you cry out as your body tenses, then relaxes around him.

"good girl," steve pants into your skin, as his thrusts falter. he'd only been holding off for you to finish, "love you--fuckin' love you, baby,"

two more ruts of his hips and he's spilling into you with a strangled moan-- thighs shaking where they're tangled with yours. you're both silent as you come back down to earth; the only sounds in the room are your combines labored breathing.

you turn around fully to face a flushed and sweaty steve. even in the dark of your bedroom you can tell his cheeks and neck are a beat-red.

"you tired yet?" he asks, chuckling wearily.

"I don't know..." you lilt, "could go for round two in a few minutes."

he gives a playful roll of his eyes, "c'mere, you heathen."

you laugh and nuzzle into his chest-- the thatch of hair there damp and tickling your cheek.

he leans down to kiss the crown of your head, "goodnight, my love." you can tell by the sound of his voice that he's already dozing off again. you feel a pang of jealously that he's able to drift off so easily, but the feeling is quickly overcome with the pure adoration you have for him.

"goodnight, stevie."

you sleep soundly until noon the next day.

[faemurmur]

-> daddy caleb taking care of his exhausted baby

You didn’t hear him come in.

You were curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest, wrapped in a blanket that didn’t quite reach the ache beneath your skin. Your head was pounding, body trembling from exhaustion that sleep never seemed to fix. You felt frayed—like threads pulled too tight, about to snap.

Then… warmth. A hand on your ankle. Gentle pressure.

“There you are Pips,” Caleb murmurs, voice low and soothing like distant thunder on a rainy night. “Didn’t I tell you to call me when you feel like this?”

You open your mouth, but no words come. Just a little shake of your head. You don’t want to cry. You’re too tired to even cry.

He sighs, not annoyed—concerned. He kneels beside you and cups your face in one big hand, brushing his thumb across your cheek like you’re made of glass.

“You’re running yourself into the ground again, Angel. Always trying to be so strong.” You can’t help it. A little sob slips out—and he melts. Not into panic, not into pity—into purpose. In one swift motion, you’re in his arms. Picked up, held tight, carried like you weigh nothing but everything.

He sits down with you in his lap, blanket and all, wrapping you in his warmth. His chest is solid beneath your cheek. His heartbeat is steady, grounding. His hands roam—slow, reassuring, firm. One at your back, the other behind your head.

“You don’t have to hold it together with me,” he says quietly, breath brushing your temple. “You can fall apart, and I’ll still be right here. I’ll always be right here.”

You cling to him, and he lets you. Holds you tighter. Presses kisses to your hair, your forehead, your jaw. Soft, possessive, like he’s reminding you: you’re mine. You’re safe.

And then his voice—gravelly and low, close to your ear.

“Next time, you call me. You understand? I don’t care what time it is or what I’m doing—if my girl’s hurting, I drop everything. Because you come first. Always.”You nod, tears finally falling. Not out of pain—but relief.

Because with Caleb… you’re not alone.

You’re loved.

And most of all, you’re held.

He feels it—the way your body starts to soften, breath slowing against his chest. That quiet surrender. That precious unraveling. And he waits. Holds you steady in it.

“There she is,” he murmurs, voice lower now, darker. “My girl, finally letting go.”

You shiver—not from the cold this time, but from him. The way he speaks it like a promise and a claim all at once.

His hand slides up your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip. “You give and give until you break, don’t you?” He tilts your face to meet his gaze—those eyes like storm clouds right before the downpour. “But that stops here.”

He leans in close. “You’re mine. And I don’t let what’s mine burn out.”

You try to speak, but he hushes you with a kiss—just at the corner of your lips. Not quite giving it all yet. Teasing. Controlling. Patient. “No more running on empty, Princess. No more pushing past your limits while pretending you’re fine.”

His hand moves again, sliding under the blanket, splaying against your bare waist. “Next time, I feel you slipping, I won’t wait for permission. I’ll take you. I’ll pull you into my lap, pin you down if I have to, and remind you whose you are.”

Your breath catches.

And he smiles. That knowing, wicked little tilt of his lips that says: You’re mine to ruin gently. And I will. But then he kisses your forehead again, so soft it nearly breaks you.

“Not tonight, though.” His voice gentles again. “Tonight, I hold you until you fall asleep. But you remember this feeling—because tomorrow, when you’re stronger, I’m going to make sure you never forget who keeps you safe.”

And just like that, you’re wrapped in both fire and shelter.

His arms, his voice, his claim on you—

Home.

He feels the shift in you—the way your heartbeat begins to slow against his chest, your fingers loosening where they were curled into his shirt. Your body still pressed close, but no longer trembling. Just melting.

Caleb exhales softly, his breath brushing along your temple like a sigh of pride. His voice rumbles against your skin, low and tender. “That’s it. Just like that, baby. Let me take it from here.”

You hum something—a faint little sound, barely audible. Maybe a thank you. Maybe his name. You don’t even know anymore. You’re floating now, somewhere between sleep and him, the two starting to feel like the same thing.

He adjusts you in his lap just enough so he can lean back against the couch, one arm cradling your head, the other wrapped tight around your waist. And then his fingers start tracing soft patterns over your skin—up and down your spine, over your arm, along your side. Mindless, loving touches. The kind that say, “You don’t have to do anything. Just be.”

“I wish you could see yourself right now,” he whispers into your hair. “This soft. This calm. You were made to be held like this.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. One last bit of tension leaving your chest. His warmth, his voice, the strength of his arms—it’s everything you didn’t know you needed until now. And then, the final tether snaps. Sleep begins to pull you under—but this time, it’s not from exhaustion or desperation.

It’s safe. It’s soft. It’s him.

You shift once more, cheek nuzzling into the base of his throat, breath evening out. He feels it. Smiles to himself. “There she goes,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over your forehead. “My good girl. Finally resting.”

He stays there, holding you long after your breathing settles. Still tracing those same slow circles. Still whispering, even though you’ve already drifted far away. “You sleep now, Princess. And when you wake… I’ll still be here.”

[devdozes]

SO HAPPY TO HEAR ABT SPIDERMAN PHAINON, like can you write how exhausted he must be after being busy all night? Dozing of in the middle of class and having to cover for him and If you have more shenanigans for them please add them!!

♥ Spiderman Phainon !!

OH MY GOD THIS MAN HAS ME IN A CHOKEHOLD !! AND HELL YEAH ALSO SPIDERMAN PHAINON DRAWING AT THE END OF THE POST!!

This man treats you as his personal pillow istg. And, he will be passed out within SECONDS. You’ll be talking to him, and next thing you know? He’s OUT. If you try to get up, he tightens his grip around you. -"Babe, I need to get up—" "No." "Phainon." "You’re my pillow now. ;3"

He is absolutely DOWN BAD, he will definitely do those silly couple trends with you, and sometimes you wonder whether hes the man in the relation or you. -"BABYY WANT TO DO THE RIBBON TREND WITH ME??" -"BABY WANT TO DO THE LIPSTICK TREND WIRTH ME PLEAJ :(" - "Of course phai :), NOW CMERE"

He falls asleep in the most RANDOM places, and when he falls asleep, he is a HUNDRED times more clingy, You have caught him dozing off in class more times than you can count. Sometimes, his head just drops onto his desk with a loud thud. Other times? He’s literally asleep with his eyes open. "Babe, wake up." pinches cheek Mumbling. "Mmf… five more minutes…" clings onto your arm like a koala. "Phainon, we are in a LECTURE, wake up—" Grabs your hand and dramatically puts it over his heart. "Let me just… rest in your warmth for a moment…" "Oh my god."

Calls you his savior since you have to write his notes for him, of course you do hes literally spiderman and your boyfriend, you have to help him since you love his idiotic ass. If you don’t remind him about deadlines, he will forget. "Phai, did you finish the essay?" "… What essay." "THE ONE DUE IN AN HOUR???" "WHAT THE FUCK??" -You once caught him doing an entire paper five minutes before submission. The man wrote 1,000 words in 4 minutes. It somehow got an A.

Doesn’t want to admit when he’s too tired. "Phai, baby, go sleep for gods sake. "Nah baby im alright" immediately trips on air and faceplants

You once tried to see how long phainon would last without touching you and clinging on to you, he lasted 46 seconds. - baby come back i hate this, this is TORTURE—"

He texts you randomly during patrol and tells you EVERYTHING "Just stopped a robbery. Miss u. What r u doing?" "Babe I just saw a guy try to fight a raccoon behind a gas station. This city is insane." "I’m on top of a skyscraper right now thinking about u." "Send me a selfie. I need motivation."

HE LOVES WHEN YOU PATCH HIS INJURIESS !! and when you kiss them "Baby im alright no need to worry" "YOU HAVE A HUGE GASH ON YOUR ARM. SIT DOWN." "Im alright ill heal-" "Ill kiss your injuries" "Yes maam, please do that 500 times"

Bites you everywhere, fucking whimpers if you bite him back "Bites you "here is your daily serving""bites back""Lets out a whimper and asks you to do it again" "PHAI WHAT THE FUCK"

He always calls you "his" like 24/7, And gets SHAMELESS whenever he wants your attention and if someone approaches you "My love" "My baby" "Mine" "My girl" "Phai thats a cat you dont need to be all.. clingy" "Felines are cute yet dangerous"

His love language? Spoiling you. SPOILING THE LIVING SHIT OUTTA YOU. If you casually mention you like something? BOOM its in your room the next day "Babyyy you like cats dont you?" "Yes i do- oh my god." "Meet our new kid :D" "PHAINON WHY IS THERE A BRAND NEW GAMING SETUP" "But you complained on how your old gaming setup lagged :(" "Phainon i love you but you can NOT keep wasting your money"

Eats alot, and will force you to eat with him, He practically lives in your house so your fridge is ALWAYS full "Baby i got you your snacks and groceries!!" "That is enough food to last me an entire month." "You just eat less" "I am not a bigback like you Phainon" "THE AUDACITY??"

ALWAYS uses his webs cuz hes too lazy to do anything. One time, you were "too far" from him (you were 7 steps away from him" and then used his webs to pull you to him "PHAINON I WAS NEAR YOU! YOU COULDVE JUST WALKED" "Nuh uh" "Fuck you mean nuh uh"

If you compliment him once he will malfunction and BOMBARD you with compliments, kisses whatever. "C'mere pretty boy" "..." "OH MY GOD YOU LOVE ME" "We are literally dating" "MY AMAZING SWEET BEAUTIFUL PARTNER I LVOE YOU SO MUCHH"

He carries you randomly just to see your expressions, he is a down bad mf. And does those random ass stunts. "Baby look!" does a backflip "You're so dumb" It is dumb but you laugh and smile widely "YOUR SMILE IS SO PRETTYY"

If you ever feel bad, or want comfort, he will do ANYTHING FOR YOU. ANYTHING. Want fresh air? He's swinging you through the city with you in his hand the next second. Want to rant? He's listening and comforting you the next second

He may be a hero, but he would do anythin for you, even if that means betraying his city's trust or becoming evil or just quitting.

ARCADE DATES AND CHAOTIC ASS DATES. Phainon took you to an abandoned place and explored it around as a date. He is afraid of normalcy and loves being unique im not like other boys ahh 😒 -He insisted on dancing in the rain with you. "Baby can we please" "Sure :) but your clumsy ass is gonna get hurt" "No i wont!!" He falls on his ass the next moment he tries to do a fancy step in the rain with you, but you just laugh your asses off - He one time stole a shopping cart, seated you inside the shopping cart and pushed it full speed while controlling it. You both almost crashed against a light pole at like 100 km/h but his strong ass dodges it with ease luckily "PHAINON OH MY GOD LOOK IN FRONT!!" "FUCK OH MY GOD" - If you go on a beach date? hes beefing with kids and everyone. He is competitive. LIKE ALOT. He built a sandcastle and webbed it up so its technically indestructible. "BABYY LOOK :D" "Phai thats a goddamn kingdom" And whenever you all play beach volleyball, he does EVERYTHING to impress you or beat you. (he just wants to win) "HEY BABY THATS CHEATING YOUR USING YOUR SPIDEY SENSES :(" "I TAKE NO LOSSES." - Even when yall do an arcade date he does that. He always secretly uses his webs to pull out plushies without the sensors and you noticing "Aww baby you wanted that plushie" Pulls it out using his webs "PHAINON THATS STEALING!" "UH ITS JUST EXTENDED CLAW FUNCTIONALITY" Please kiss him after that - And in mall dates? he somehow manages to sneak in an entire course meal inside the movie theatre. He refuses to sit still. His leg bounces. He fidgets. He’s either whispering dumb commentary in your ear or dramatically reacting to the screen. "Baby the popcorn is so dry ugh" casually pulls out an entire full course meal from his jacket "Phainon what the fuck" "Shh Shh baby just relax and enjoy the illegally smuggled pizza" -Go karting dates? Hes gonna web the other players to win. And bowling? he accidentally breaks the bowling ball and the pins

HE ALWAYS RANDOMLY PICKS YOU UP, JUST TO FLEX HIS STRENGTH AND MUSCLES, AND EASILY DOES THINGS FOR YOU "Phai.. you dont have to hold my shopping bags" "Its okay there are only 21 bags" "Phai-" "Ill carry you too." AND HE ACTUALLY DOES. -His BACK MUSCLES OH MY GODD HE IS SO FINE, One time you walked in on him shirtless and his back was facing towards you, his shoulder blades and back msucles were so fucking fine. And the way his arms are so fuckign firm. You can NEVER get out of his grip

some texts with this menace

giggles, i am down bad AND THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST WHOEVER DID THIS OH MY GOD ILY

[amyzworldds]

안녕~ could you write about the 14th member seventeen currently: like she decided to prank so to speak to scare the members for laughing at her and decided to be closed and serious for a while and the members were really scared. If you like this idea, then thanks in advance💕💕

Title: Maknae Mutiny

Masterlist

When Seventeen’s lively maknae yn is shut down by her exhausted members and they overlook her missing cardboard standee, she retaliates with a silent treatment, ignoring them while laughing with others. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th member Genre: Fluff, Humor, with a lil bit of angst

Seventeen had been running on fumes for weeks. Music shows, fan signs, late-night rehearsals—their comeback buzz had turned into a relentless grind, and all 14 members were begging for silence and sleep. The dorm, usually a circus of noise thanks to yn’s antics, felt like a zombie den. Hoshi had fallen asleep mid-sentence yesterday, Seungkwan’s sass was down to a mumble, and even DK’s eternal sunshine had dimmed to a flicker. They just wanted peace. But yn? yn was a different beast.

Sure, she was tired—her under-eye bags could carry groceries—but her energy was a renewable resource. She saw her exhausted members slumped on the living room couches, looking like deflated balloons, and thought, I’ve got this. I’ll cheer them up! So, after a grueling practice day, she burst into the dorm, arms flailing, voice at full volume, ready to be their human espresso shot.

“Guyss! You won’t believe what I saw on the way home!” she chirped, pacing the room like a caffeinated squirrel. “This guy on the subway was wearing socks with sandals—socks with sandals!—and I swear he was staring at me like I stole his lunch! I almost laughed so hard I fell off my seat, but then I remembered I’m an idol now, so I just smirked like a pro. Oh, and then there was this dog—huge, fluffy, looked like Mingyu oppa if he grew fur—”

Mingyu, sprawled on the couch with a pillow over his face, groaned, “Yn, please… not now…”

But she didn’t hear him, too caught up in her one-woman comedy show. “And then! Then! I saw this ad for a new ramen flavor—spicy cheese, can you imagine? We should try it! I bet it’d wake us all up! Oh, and speaking of waking up, last night I dreamed I was a superhero, but my power was turning into a giant pancake—don’t laugh, it’s serious! I was flipping through the sky—”

The members nodded tiredly, eyes glazed over. Seungcheol rubbed his temples, Jeonghan stared at the ceiling like he was praying for teleportation, and DK managed a weak, “That’s… nice, yn-ah…” Hoshi was already half-asleep, muttering, “Pancake… sky… huh?”

She kept going, oblivious. “So anyway, I was thinking we could do a tiktok where I’m the pancake superhero and you guys are, like, my syrup squad! It’d be hilarious! Imagine Woozi oppa with a syrup gun—”

“Yn,” Woozi cut in, his voice sharp and exhausted. He was slumped in an armchair, looking like he’d aged 10 years in a day. “Can you stop? Please? We’re all dead tired. We just want to rest, and your nonstop rambling isn’t helping. At all.”

The room went still. Yn blinked, mid-gesture, her mouth open. “Oh… uh…”

“He’s right,” Seungkwan mumbled, dragging himself up. “I love you, yn-ah, but I can’t hear about pancake superheroes right now. I need sleep.”

“Yeah,” Joshua added, yawning. “Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“Quiet sounds good,” Vernon agreed, already shuffling toward his room.

One by one, the members chimed in—“Yeah, yn, too tired,” “Night, kid,” “Love the energy, but no”—and peeled off to their rooms, leaving yn standing there, deflated. Hoshi patted her head as he passed, muttering, “Funny story… tell it later…” and then he was gone too. Even Dino, her fellow maknae, just gave her a sleepy wave and disappeared.

Yn pouted, arms crossed. “Fine. Whatever. I was just trying to help,” she muttered. She’d been tired too, but she’d pushed through to lift their spirits. Now she felt like a clown who’d bombed her set. Shuffling to her room, she flopped onto her bed, still in her hoodie. “They’re just tired,” she told herself, yawning. “I said sorry last night when I bumped into Jeonghan oppa on my way out… they’ll say sorry tomorrow. We’re cool.” With that, she conked out, dreaming of pancake revenge.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Morning came, and the dorm buzzed with renewed energy. The members were back to their loud selves—DK belting a random ballad in the shower, Mingyu clanging pots in the kitchen, Seungkwan arguing with Vernon over cereal brands. Yn stumbled out, expecting a chorus of “Sorry, yn-ah!” and maybe a hug or two. Instead, they acted like nothing happened.

“Morning, yn!” Seungcheol called, sipping coffee. “You sleep okay?”

“Uh… yeah,” she said, waiting. No apology. Nothing.

“Pancakes today!” Mingyu announced, flipping one in the air. “Want some?”

She stared at him. “Sure,” she mumbled, but her pout deepened. No “sorry” from him either? Hoshi bounded in, stealing a pancake bite, and grinned at her. “Hey, you’re quiet today! No subway stories?”

“Nope,” she said flatly, glaring. Still no apology. The day dragged on—practice, lunch, more practice—and not one member acknowledged last night. By nightfall, yn was fuming. They want quiet? Oh, I’ll give them quiet. Dead serious quiet. Revenge quiet.

She stormed to the front door, where her life-sized cardboard cutout from a recent photoshoot stood guard. “You’re coming with me,” she muttered, dragging it to her room. Slamming the door, she plopped it by her bed and hatched her plan. “They think I’m too loud? Fine. I’ll be so serious they’ll beg me to laugh. I won’t crack—not a giggle, not a smirk. My soul might die laughing inside, but my face? Stone.” She cackled internally, imagining their freaked-out faces, then spent the night in front of her mirror, practicing her “serious idol” stare—lips tight, eyes piercing, zero nonsense.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the dorm was a graveyard. No blasting audios from yn’s room, no off-key singing, no clattering pans as she danced around the kitchen making breakfast. The members shuffled out, bleary-eyed, expecting chaos. Instead, they found… nothing. Yn emerged from her room, pancake plate in hand—one pancake, just for her. She sat at the table, eating silently, staring straight ahead.

“Uh… morning, yn-ah,” DK tried, flashing his sunshine smile. “No music today?”

She chewed, swallowed, and looked at him dead-on. “No.” Her voice was flat, her face a mask. DK blinked, unnerved.

At practice, it got weirder. Yn was a ghost—quiet, focused, no chatter. Hoshi, desperate to break the tension, tried his usual antics. “Hey, yn-ah, watch this!” He did a goofy tiger impression, complete with a roar and claw hands. Normally, she’d be rolling on the floor. This time? She turned, stared at him with a blank, serious gaze, and said, “Cool.” Hoshi shivered, whispering to Dino, “She’s scaring me, man. That’s not normal.”

“She’s not even rolling her eyes,” Dino hissed back. “She always rolls her eyes when she’s mad! This is… worse.”

Seungkwan tried next, sidling up with a grin. “Yn-ah, I saw this hilarious meme—guy trips into a fountain, total disaster. Funny, right?”

She fixed him with a deadpan stare. “Sure.” No laugh, no snort, nothing. Seungkwan gulped. “Uh… okay, never mind.”

Even Jeonghan, the master of chaos, couldn’t crack her. “Yn-ie,” he cooed, leaning in with his sly smile, “you’re so quiet today. Did Hoshi eat your snacks again?”

“No,” she said, voice monotone, eyes boring into him. “I’m fine.” Jeonghan froze, then backed away, muttering, “That’s… terrifying.”

By lunchtime, the members were whispering in a huddle. “She’s not mad—she’d be yelling if she was,” Joshua said, frowning. “She’s just… serious. It’s creepy.”

That night, yb sat in her room, smirking internally as she ate gummy worms—alone. Her cardboard cutout loomed in the corner, a silent ally in her war of quiet. She heard the members outside, their voices hushed and panicked—“She didn’t laugh at my joke!” “She stared at me like I was a ghost!”—and fought the urge to cackle. They want quiet? They’ve got it. Let’s see how long they last.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The days dragged on, and yn’s “serious mode” had morphed into a full-blown vendetta. Seventeen dorm, once a chaotic symphony of laughter and YN’s wild energy, was now a haunted house of awkward silence. She’d doubled down on her quiet revenge, and it was working—too well. The members tiptoed around her, whispering theories, while yn stewed in her room, her fury fueled by one glaring fact: no one had noticed her missing cardboard standee. That thing had been grinning by the front door for months—her self-proclaimed “dorm guardian”—and now it was gone, tucked away in her room, and not a single member had said a word. “They don’t even care,” she muttered to herself, glaring at her reflection. “Fine. They won’t notice me either. I’m a ghost now.”

Her plan was simple but savage: no eye contact, no talking, total isolation. She’d hide in her room forever, emerging only for practice, where she’d be a silent, creepy shell of her usual self. At rehearsals, she moved like a robot—perfect steps, zero chatter.

Back at the dorm, she’d bolt to her room the second they arrived, locking the door before anyone could blink. “Yn-ah, wait—” Seungcheol tried once, but the click of her lock cut him off. She’d sit inside, eating snacks she’d hoarded (no sharing this time), talking to herself in a furious whisper. “They don’t even miss my standee! It’s been weeks! That thing smiled at them every day—welcomed them home—and they’re just like, ‘Oh, cool, whatever.’ Useless members! And still no sorry? Wow, I’m invisible now, huh? Well, good! I’ll stay invisible!”

Weeks passed, and the members were losing it. The dorm felt cursed. No morning chaos—no yn blasting random songs, no kitchen dance parties while she burned toast for everyone. She’d emerge for meals, grab her plate, and vanish, all without a word or glance. At practice, she was a silent specter, her deadpan stare chilling the room. Hoshi tried cracking a joke—“Hey, yn-ah, I tripped over Mingyu’s shoe today, total tiger fail!”—and she just looked at him, unblinking, like he was a stranger. He yelped, hiding behind DK. “She’s possessed! That’s not her!”

“She’s creeping me out,” Seungkwan whispered, clutching Jeonghan’s arm. “She didn’t even laugh when I spilled water on Vernon yesterday. She just… stared. Like a serial killer!”

“Maybe she’s mad?” Joshua ventured, frowning. “But why? We didn’t do anything… right?”

“Last week was rough,” Woozi muttered, guilt gnawing at him. “I snapped at her about the rambling. We all kinda piled on. But she’s been quiet for weeks. This is next-level.”

Hoshi, ever the drama king, paced the living room, hands flailing. “Guys, hear me out—what if she’s been kidnapped? Like, the real yn’s gone, and this is a fake yn! Think about it! She’s too quiet, too serious—it’s not natural! Maybe aliens swapped her, or someone has her locked in a basement, and this is a robot clone!”

“Hoshi, calm down,” Seungcheol groaned, rubbing his temples. “She’s not kidnapped. She’s just… mad. Really mad.”

“Then why won’t she yell at us?!” Hoshi wailed. “She’s not even rolling her eyes! She always rolls her eyes when she’s mad! This is worse—she’s like a ghost haunting us!”

“I miss her yelling,” DK admitted, pouting. “She didn’t even react when I sang off-key yesterday. Just… stared. I almost cried.”

Theories flew—Jeonghan suggested she was pranking them, Vernon guessed she’d joined a silent cult, and Seungkwan swore she was plotting their demise. But no one could crack it. Yn’s silence was a weapon, and she wielded it like a pro, all while seething in her room. “They don’t deserve my noise,” she muttered, munching gummy worms. “Or my standee. Or me. Let’s see how long they last without their sunshine maknae.”

Then, one fateful evening, Dino stumbled into the breakthrough. He was shuffling through the dorm, half-asleep, looking for his lost sock by the front door. “Where’s that stupid—huh?” He paused, blinking at the empty spot where yn’s cardboard standee used to stand. “Wait… where’s her cutout thingy?” He turned, wide-eyed, to the members sprawled in the living room. “Hyung… her standee’s gone!”

Thirteen heads snapped toward him. Silence. Then chaos.

“What do you mean, gone?!” Seungcheol barked, jumping up.

“It’s not there!” Dino flailed, pointing. “It’s been by the door forever, and now it’s… not!”

“Oh no,” Jeonghan breathed, eyes widening. “She took it. That’s why she’s mad!”

“She’s been mad for weeks, and we didn’t notice that?!” Mingyu yelped, clutching his hair. “We’re the worst, ever!”

Hoshi gasped, clutching DK. “See?! I told you! The real yn’s gone, and this is proof! The standee was her soul, and now it’s missing, and we’re stuck with a fake—”

“Shut up, Hoshi,” Woozi snapped, but his voice wavered. “She’s not kidnapped. She’s just… really, really pissed. And we missed it.”

Seungkwan groaned, collapsing onto the couch. “We didn’t even notice her standee was gone? That thing’s been staring at us for months! No wonder she’s haunting us!”

“What do we do?” Vernon asked, looking spooked. “She’s not talking, not laughing—she’s like a statue. I’m scared to knock on her door.”

“We’ve gotta fix this,” Seungcheol said, pacing. “She’s mad about last time and the standee. We’ve been idiots.”

Inside her room, YN smirked, overhearing their panic through the thin walls. “Finally,” she whispered to herself, patting her hidden standee. “They noticed. Too late. Silent yn stays.” She popped another gummy worm in her mouth, plotting her next move, while the members outside scrambled like headless chickens, terrified of their own maknae.

--------------------------------------------------------------

The practice room had become a bizarre battleground. After weeks of yn’s eerie silence—her deadpan stares and locked-door standoffs—the members were on edge, jumping at shadows and whispering theories about her missing standee. They’d hoped practice would be a reset, a chance to figure out how to crack her icy facade. But when they walked in, they were hit with a twist that left them reeling.

Yn was laughing. Full-on, belly-clutching, snorting laughter, chatting up the backup dancers like she’d never been mad a day in her life. “No, seriously!” she cackled, leaning on one dancer’s shoulder. “He tripped over his own feet mid-spin—thought he was gonna take out the whole line! I couldn’t breathe!” The dancers roared, one clapping her on the back as she doubled over, wiping tears. She looked like the old yn—wild, loud, unstoppable. But here’s the kicker: she wasn’t talking to them. Not a word, not a glance. She danced around the members like they were invisible, her giggles reserved for everyone but her members.

The members stood frozen, mid-stretch, jaws dropped. “What… is happening?” Minghao whispered, clutching Wonwoo’s arm. “She was a statue yesterday—now she’s laughing? With the dancers?!”

“Maybe she’s over it?” Joshua said, hopeful, though his voice shook. “She’s back to normal, right?”

“Normal for them, not us,”Woozi muttered, eyes narrowing. “She’s still ignoring us. Look—she won’t even turn this way.”

Hoshi shivered, hugging himself. “It’s like she’s possessed again! Happy with everyone else, but we’re ghosts to her! I’m telling you, the standee’s cursed us!”

Jun, ever the optimist, saw an opening. “Nah, she’s fine now! See? Laughing, talking—she’s good! I’ll fix this.” He plastered on a grin, letting out a loud, exaggerated laugh—“HA! HA! HA! That’s hilarious, yn-ah!”—and strutted toward her and the dancers, arms open like he was joining the party.

The room went dead silent. Yn stopped mid-laugh, her face snapping into that blank, serious mask faster than a light switch. The dancers froze, awkward, as she straightened up, brushed past Jun without a glance, and marched to the far corner where one of their managers sat scrolling his phone. “Hey, manager nim!” shechirped, plopping beside him. “You should’ve seen this one time Hoshi oppa tried to do a flip and landed on his face— funniest thing ever!” She cackled again, leaning into the manager as he chuckled, oblivious to the stunned members behind her.

Jun stood there, mid-laugh, arms still outstretched, looking like a rejected comedian. “Uh… what just happened?” he squeaked, turning to the others.

“She shut down the second you got close,” Jeonghan said, smirking despite the tension. “That’s some next-level avoidance.”

“She’s laughing with the manager now?!” Mingyu yelped, clutching his hair. “She won’t even look at us, but she’s cracking up over there? This is torture!”

Seungcheol rubbed his temples, groaning. “She’s doing this on purpose. She’s fine with everyone else—just not us. We’re screwed.”

The members huddled, whispering like spooked detectives. “She’s playing us,” Vernon said, wide-eyed. “Happy yn for them, ghost yn for us. It’s creepy as hell.”

“I miss her yelling at me,” Dino muttered, pouting. “She didn’t even react when I tripped earlier. Just… stared.”

Across the room, the manager—Manager Kim, a chill guy who’d seen it all—noticed yn’s selective chatter. “Hey, yn-ah,” he said, still chuckling, “what’s up with you and the boys? You’re all buddy-buddy with me and the dancers, but you’re acting like the members don’t exist. What’s the deal?”

Yn crossed her arms, puffing her cheeks like a kid tattling on her siblings. “They’re jerks! Weeks ago, I was trying to cheer them up ‘cause they were all tired and grumpy, telling funny stories and stuff, and they just shut me down! Woozi oppa said my rambling wasn’t helping, and then they all ganged up—‘We’re tired, yn,’ ‘Go away, yn’—and left me standing there like an idiot! I said sorry that night, but they never said it back! And then—get this—they didn’t even notice my standee was gone! That thing’s been by the door for months, smiling sweetly at them, and they didn’t care it’s missing! So, fine, they want quiet? They don’t notice me? I’m done with them!”

Manager Kim threw his head back, laughing so hard he nearly dropped his phone. “Oh, that’s gold! You’re giving them the silent treatment and the standee treatment? They deserve it, kid. Keep ‘em sweating—they’ll crack eventually.”

“Exactly!” Yn grinned, smug. “They don’t get my sunshine ‘til they grovel.”

The members, eavesdropping from across the room, paled. “She told him everything,” Seungkwan hissed. “And he’s on her side?!”

“We’re doomed,” Joshua whispered. “She’s got backup now.”

DK, the group’s emotional glue, couldn’t take it anymore. “I can’t do this!” he wailed, breaking from the huddle. He bolted across the room, dropped to his knees in front of yn, and fake-cried into his hands. “Yn-ah, I’m so sorry! We were jerks—we didn’t mean it! I miss you so much—your laugh, your chaos, your stupid standee! Please forgive us!”

Yn blinked down at him, her serious mask flickering but holding. Manager Kim snorted, pulling out his phone to record. “This is going on the company group chat,” he muttered, grinning.

DK’s dramatics broke the dam. Hoshi dove in next, sliding on his knees beside DK. “Yn-ie, I’m sorry! I miss your yelling when I mess up choreo! I even miss your creepy standee staring at me! Don’t hate us!”

Mingyu joined, flopping onto the floor. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice the standee! I’m terrible—forgive me! I’ll cook you pancakes every day!”

One by one, they piled on. Dino knelt, clasping his hands. “I’m sorry, yn-ah! You’re my maknae twin—I can’t live like this!” Seungkwan wailed, “I miss your sass—please talk to me!” Even Woozi, grumbling, shuffled over and muttered, “Sorry I snapped. You were just… loud. I was tired. My bad.”

Seungcheol, last to cave, sighed and knelt too. “We’re sorry, yn. We were idiots. We miss you—and yeah, the standee too. Come back to us.”

The practice room was a circus—13 grown men on their knees, fake-sobbing and pleading, while the dancers snickered and Manager Kim filmed, cackling, “This is blackmail material for years!” yn sat there, arms crossed, fighting a smirk. Inside, her soul was howling with laughter—they looked ridiculous, and she’d won. But her face? Still serious.

“Yn-ah, please!” DK begged, grabbing her hand. “We’ll put the standee back! We’ll worship it! Just stop this creepy silent thing!”

She stared at him, then at the pile of groveling members, and finally cracked a tiny, smug grin. “Fine,” she said, voice flat but eyes twinkling. “But the standee’s staying in my room ‘til I say so. And you’re all on probation. One more slip, and I’m quiet again.”

“Yes, ma’am!” they chorused, scrambling up, relieved but still spooked.

Manager Kim pocketed his phone, grinning. “Good job, yn. You’ve got ‘em trained now.”

As practice resumed, the members kept sneaking glances at her, half-expecting another silent ambush. Yn laughed with the dancers again, tossing a casual, “Nice try,” over her shoulder. The war was over—for now—but the dorm’s chaos queen had proven she could rule with silence as much as noise.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Dean Winchester with plus size girly 👉🏻👈🏻

.⋆｡Fresh Start｡⋆.

Dean Winchester x plus size reader

You watched your best friend die, come back, vanish off the face of the earth, return a changed man, die again and become a demon all in the span of just a couple years, so when in all of that can you finally work up the courage to confess? Or maybe he’ll just do it first

Warnings: friends to lovers, confessions, angst, Dean’s insecurity and regrets, mention of demon!Dean, lots of insecurity in general, mutual pining and comfort, chick flick moments, maybe ooc Dean, making out WC: 1.7k Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

The bunker was silent for the first time in 24 hours, the echoes of screams and curses had long-since dissipated and yet, you couldn’t calm down enough to sleep. You turned over in your bed, suddenly the room was too warm, your blankets too suffocating, and something kept brushing against your foot but you couldn’t work out what or where it was. Light from the hallway bled into your room, the final straw of your exhausted mind.

You stepped into your slippers, the fabric warming up quickly as you stood. Your tired mind conjured images of some spiked hot chocolate and late night TV to soothe you to sleep. The stretch of the bunker’s hallway was silent save for the buzz of the antique lights, guiding you to the kitchen.

The door stood open, letting you see the man who had been gone from his place in your life for far too long. He was hunched over the kitchen table, chained to the spot as if he moved, he would hurt someone again.

“Dean?” His gaze shot up to you, giving you a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey sweetheart. I didn’t wake you did I?” You shuffled closer, shaking your head. This time, his green eyes shone as he pulled out the chair beside him, offering you the small glass of whiskey. You sagged down next to him, the bare skin of your arm brushing against the soft flannel that covered his broad shoulders. Without so much as a grunt of exertion, he pulled your chair closer as he always did when you sat next to each other.

His hand naturally fell to the soft fat of your thigh, a move he had done for years. It grounded you both — the vulnerability of the touch, the warmth of your body, the rough calluses on his palm — it was sometimes the only thing that kept you both sane in the middle of the hellfire you faced. 

“You should be asleep.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “The past couple days have been a lot.” You sipped from the glass, the burn of the alcohol waking you up a bit more, but not enough to break the quiet atmosphere of the kitchen.

Dean grimaced and pulled his right arm from where it was resting on the table, as if that would make the scar that was now etched into his soul vanish. He looked so much older in this light, the decades of darkness finally weighing him down.

“You’ve put up with a lot from me, not just from the past couple days.” His words hung in the air between you, words that had been yet unspoken though felt through the years. You could’ve scoffed.

“I wouldn’t call it ‘putting up with you’, more like I care about you and want to help you with whatever you’re going through.” Your finger traced along the line of a scar on the back of his hand. “Just the same as you do for me. Like when I get too drunk and have to spend the night next to the toilet and you stay with me, giving me water. Or when I get arrested cause my forgery skills aren’t up to snuff and you bail me out. Or when I get hurt and you drop everything to help me. It’s what we do.”

Dean watched your touch grow firmer with your conviction until his skin paled beneath the pad of your fingers. “I died sweetheart. And I’ve killed. And I’ve made you watch as I sleep through half of America, even on nights where I promised not to. I’ve lied and cheated and been damn selfish. And for the life of me, I don’t know why you haven’t realised by now that I’m bad for you, for everyone, it’s why Cain gave me this mark in the first place.”

You pull yourself closer to him, daring to cup his cheek with your free hand, forcing him to look at you. He lowered himself into your grasp, letting out a sigh of relief. “But you’re still a good man, a great man even. You’ve saved more people than I can count, you are a hero Dean.”

“I was a demon not even 12 hours ago.” He hissed through his teeth though he stayed in your arms. You had seen what his black-eyed counterpart had done, felt the rage he carried as he thundered through the bunker in some attempt to survive. He scared you, not that you would ever admit it to him, and he broke your heart. But you knew it wasn’t Dean’s fault, none of you knew what the Mark would do to him or turn him into, yet Dean couldn’t see it that way.

“And Sam and I are still here. That has to count for something.”

“Sammy’s my brother. And you’re…” He trailed off, a pensive look marring his face. 

“I’m?” You prompted, your stomach twisting with the possibilities. Dean was not one for feelings or letting himself wish for something more out of life, you knew that from the first moment you met him and yet it didn’t stop you from falling for him. Everything you said was true, he has always been a hero, your hero. He was always there for you, even for the most mundane of things. He was kind, charismatic, hilarious, intelligent, passionate, and so many other wonderful things that would take you days to name them all.

You loved him and there was no way he loved you. He was the most amazing man alive, chosen by the angels to fight evil, with the most pure heart of anyone you’ve ever known. He deserved a bombshell, knock-out of a woman to stand by his side, not some fan-girl from the middle of nowhere who had somehow found a way into the small circle of people he truly cared about.

“Hey,” his right hand gripped your wide hip, now the both of you were a breaths length apart, “you’re thinking too much.” 

“I disagree.” Your muttered protest was muffled behind the fear that somehow he could read your mind and suddenly knew the overpowering secret in your heart.

For the first time in what seemed like months, Dean smirked that classic smirk of his and set your blood alight. “I think I know why. Just,” his voice shook uncharacteristically, “tell me if you don’t want this.”

And before you could ask any questions or wonder why he sounded so terrified, he kissed you. Your body seized with surprise, his lips were so plush and warm and everything you had ever dreamed of and then they were gone. 

“I’m sorry, I-“ Dean started but you didn’t give him the chance to regret anything else, you grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed your lips against his. A groan rumbled through his chest and into yours as he grabbed onto you with all of his force. 

You clung to him like you would wake up any second now and go back to a life of wishing for exactly this. Your head tilted, deepening the kiss as much as it could go considering you were both still sitting in kitchen chairs in the middle of the night.

“Fuck sweetheart.” Unadulterated lust shot through you like a bullet at the way his voice dropped lower. “You taste even better than I thought you would.”

His thumb brushed your bottom lip as you dumbly stared into his darkening eyes. “You’ve thought about me?” 

You could damn yourself for that, Dean Winchester was finally touching you, kissing you and all you could think of was why he was doing it in the first place. But Dean just chuckled with such a deep understanding that the small protesting voice in your head was silenced. “All the time baby, since the moment I met you.”

“Really?”

You yelped as he pulled you to your feet before throwing you onto the table. “Dean-“ Your protest was cut off as he stepped between your thick thighs, his hips pressing against yours deliciously. One large hand cupped your jaw, almost covering the length of your face.

“I know that I never showed it but fuck, you haunt me. You’re gorgeous-“ He kissed you briefly, his eyes fluttering closed with the feel of your swollen lips, “-sexy as hell-“ he emphasized with a roll of his hips, “-so fucking smart-“ his fingers taped your temple, “-and the best damn woman I have ever met.”

You moaned as he captured your lips once again, this time, his tongue immediately slipped past the seam of your mouth. The air between you was now stifling and you wanted to choke on it. Your fingers flew to the short strands of his hair and he whined against you.

Pulling away this time was a Herculean task but Dean wasn’t finished with you. “And I don’t deserve you, not in a hundred lifetimes, not after all the things I’ve done. I’m tainted.” 

“And I’m nowhere near your level in every way.” You countered, making his jaw clench angrily.

“But maybe that doesn’t have to matter anymore. Maybe we can just forget about all of that and start fresh.” Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath. “We just wipe the slate clean between us.”

“Could you forget about all of that- the womanising, the pain I’ve inflicted, the Mark- for me?” Your arms wound around his neck, letting your foreheads press together.

“Yes, in a heartbeat. Could you forget about my insecurities and fear of not being enough to be with me?” You felt his smile begin to grow, his grip on you tightening once again.

“So long as you let me fuck those thoughts from your head anytime they appear, no matter the time or place.”

You laughed loudly, the exhaustion of the late night, of the past few years, vanishing in his hold. “That just sounds like you want to get me into Baby’s backseat.”

“It was my first fantasy of you, sue me.” He shrugged.

“You’re such a pervert, Winchester.” And yet, you pressed forward to kiss him again. 

“Hey, I can’t be anymore, fresh start remember?” And in that dingy kitchen in an abandoned bunker made by long-dead hunters, Dean Winchester got his second chance to be free of all the darkness he had been condemned to with you, who never thought that you were ever worthy of giving him that strength.

SPN Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Join my taglist!

All works

@im-a-slut-for-fluff @alexxavicry @ravenwings73 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @silverfire475 @psychadelichues @mvyalx @faefanatic @evansqueen54 @anamiad00msday @th3sloth @princess76179 @Lanielagenev @luvvvjada @lucypaulette @mooniequeen @slutfor-fictionalmen @km-ffluv @black-rose-29 @Minedofmoria @relatednative @starboygf @dedicateeverythingtomilkshake @strawb3rrywh0r3

Supernatural

@jason-todds-bitch @getoutofthere @xoxokiaraaxoxo @honkytonkbabe @hc-geralt-23 @mandythemint @jenniferpendragon @certifiedhunter @lover-of-books-and-tea @eternallyvenus @person-005 @luvleykiki @saltywatergrr @tripletstephaniescp @daytej @zanypruneweaselnerd @littlelearningbrat @alphabetically-deranged @alexandria-fandom

[sweetvoidstuff]

Bound by Fate, Chosen by Love I Epilog

Jungkook x Reader I Werwolf x Witch I Fated Mates I Slow Burn I Strangers to Lovers I Supernatural Romance I Protective Jungkook

Summary : As the festival approached, Jungkook and you grew distant due to their responsibilities, but an innocent misunderstanding about a claim mark left you feeling insecure.

Word Count: ~6K

Masterlist

A/N: I tried to write an epilogue that ties up all the loose ends and also includes some of their intimacy. I hope you all like it! If you do, please let me know. Writing the lovely bits was difficult, but it was also a fun challenge—so I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Epilogue: A Night of Celebration

A full year had passed since everything changed. Since you left the safety of your coven, since you healed Jungkook’s people, since two groups had learned to trust each other. It wasn’t perfect—there were still tensions, still old wounds that hadn’t fully healed—but tonight wasn’t about the past.

Tonight was about celebrating what you had all built together.

The festival had grown beyond what you initially planned. What was meant to be a small gathering of your coven and Jungkook’s pack had turned into something much larger. People from outside villages had heard of the event and wanted to witness it themselves. Some came out of curiosity, some to find opportunities, and others, you suspected, just wanted an excuse to drink and enjoy themselves under the stars.

The town square had been transformed with colorful banners, tables covered in food, and little stalls where both witches and wolves shared pieces of their culture. A bonfire would be lit once the moon was high, and music would carry the festivities deep into the night.

It was exciting, exhausting, and—

“Do we have to invite Yoongi and Taehyung?”

You bit back a smile, glancing up from where you were arranging spell-bound lanterns that would float into the sky later. Jungkook stood beside you, arms crossed, lips slightly pursed like a child who had been told he had to share his favorite snack.

“I thought you liked them now,” you teased.

Jungkook scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I tolerate them.”

“You were literally drinking with them last month,” you pointed out.

“They forced me.”

“Right. And when I walked in, you were laughing.”

Jungkook scowled. “I was laughing at them.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You know, it’s okay to admit you like them. I promise it won’t damage your scary-werewolf reputation.”

Jungkook huffed but didn’t argue further. Which meant you were right.

You reached out, lightly tugging his wrist until he was closer. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure they don’t steal too much of your time tonight.”

Jungkook pretended to think about it, then sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if they annoy me, I’m shifting and chasing them through the festival.”

“As long as you don’t scare the guests.”

“No promises.”

You laughed, and Jungkook’s expression softened at the sound.

You had spent an entire year learning how to love him.

And he had spent an entire year showing you how much he adored you.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

At first, it was simple things—Jungkook keeping close when you walked together, brushing his fingers against yours when no one was looking, finding reasons to stay in your space a little longer than necessary.

Then came the mornings where you woke up to find him already awake, watching you with the softest expression on his face. The way he reached for you in his sleep, the way he curled around you like he was meant to be there.

He made you laugh so easily. Even when he was being stubborn, even when he was insufferable, there was something about him that made you feel lighter.

And then there were the little things—

Jungkook sitting on the floor of your workshop, watching you weave magic like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. Jungkook nuzzling against you whenever he was tired, pressing his face into your neck and mumbling something about how you smelled nice.

J<ungkook cooking for you, and looking so damn proud of himself that you had to eat all. Jungkook, who once swore he didn’t like cats, letting the stray that lived near your house curl up in his lap while he scratched behind its ears.

Jungkook, who loved you.

And you—who loved him just as much.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

But before either of you could linger in the moment, a familiar voice called your name, and you sighed.

Duty called.

As the festival approached, the hours slipped away in a blur of last minute preparations. You spent your time weaving magic into decorations, helping with the food stands, and ensuring everything was running smoothly. Jungkook, meanwhile, was occupied with his own responsibilities.

His pack had come, some of them still untrusting of witches, some too eager to cause trouble. Jungkook had taken it upon himself to ensure everyone behaved, running patrols, checking in with Namjoon and the other Betas, and generally making sure no fights broke out before the night had even begun. Without meaning to, Jungkook had become the one keeping the wolves in line, the one they instinctively looked to for guidance. Within the coven, he was their alpha in all but name. But no matter how naturally the role fit him, he still followed Namjoon.

It meant that, by the time the festival was finally in full swing, you had barely seen him.

And it was around then that you noticed her.

A young woman, standing near one of the food stalls, laughing with her friends. She was a wolf—one that came with you all, nearly a year ago—and at first, you thought nothing of it. But then you noticed the mark on her neck.

A bite.

It wasn’t fresh, but it looked deep, and instinctively, you worried for her.

You frowned, instinctively stepping closer. “Are you alright?”

The woman blinked, looking at you in surprise. “Oh! Yes, I’m fine.”

“I just noticed your—” you gestured to your own neck, “—bite. Does it hurt? I can check it for you, if you’d like.”

She immediately flushed, shaking her head. “Oh, no, no. It’s not a wound. It’s… it’s my mate’s mark. He claimed me.” She said it with such pride, such warmth in her voice, that it caught you off guard.

Your mouth opened slightly. “Oh.”

She must have noticed your confusion because she tilted her head. “You’re Jungkook’s mate, right?”

You felt the familiar rush of warmth at the word. “Yes.”

She hesitated. “Did he not…?”

You suddenly felt cold.

“No,” you said, voice quieter than you intended.

She nodded slowly, looking a little embarrassed. “I see. Well, every bond is different! He must have his reasons.”

You forced a smile, murmuring a quick excuse before slipping away.

But the damage was done.

For the rest of the night, the thought lingered in the back of your mind.

Jungkook had never marked you.

It wasn’t something you had ever thought about before, not really. He had never brought it up, and neither had you. But now that you knew it was something wolves did—something he hadn’t done—you couldn’t help but wonder why.

Was it because you weren’t a wolf? Because he didn’t feel the need to?

Or was it because, deep down, he wasn’t as committed as you thought?

It started as a small ember of doubt—something barely noticeable as you rushed between preparations. Then, it grew. Faster than you expected. Hotter than you could contain. And now, it was wildfire, burning you from the inside out.

You had spent all day avoiding Jungkook.

It wasn’t hard at first—he was busy with his wolves, making sure everything was safe, keeping order among the visiting packs and guests. But as the hours slipped away, as the festival began and the crowds swelled, you felt his presence more and more.

He was looking for you.

And you couldn’t face him.

So you hid.

Not physically—there were too many people for that. But you hid with Hoseok.

After the hunters had been dealt with, after the dust had settled, Hoseok had warmed up to you almost immediately. Jin had been right with his assumption back then. Hoseok had been afraid you could be no good for one of his best friends. At first, he was cautious—polite, but distant. Then, he was genuine. He was easy to be around, his warmth infectious, his sharp mind always three steps ahead of whatever problem needed solving. And he soon became your friend as well.

Tonight, you clung to that warmth like a lifeline.

Hoseok, to his credit, didn’t question it.

When you wordlessly approached him by one of the festival stalls, he simply tilted his head, then smirked and draped an arm around your shoulders. “Finally tired of your wolf?” he teased, leading you toward a quieter corner of the festival.

You forced a smile. “Something like that.”

He didn’t push.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed with him, lingering at the edge of the celebration, pretending to enjoy the night. But eventually, you felt it—

A shift in the air.

A presence behind you.

Hoseok felt it, too. His body tensed slightly before he sighed, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Well,” he murmured. “Looks like he found you.”

You swallowed hard.

Then, before you could react, a firm hand curled around your wrist.

“Come with me.”

Jungkook’s voice was low, steady—but there was something else underneath it. A quiet demand. A thread of frustration laced with concern.

Hoseok let go of you instantly, stepping back with both hands raised. “All yours, Alpha,” he said lightly, tone teasing, though his eyes flickered with amusement.

Jungkook ignored him. His gaze was locked onto you.

You hesitated.

Then, finally, you nodded.

And let him pull you away.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Jungkook didn’t stop until you were far from the festival. Away from the music, the laughter, the glowing lanterns floating into the sky.

The moment you were alone, he turned to you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong now?”

You crossed your arms. “Nothing’s wrong.”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, jaw tightening. “Don’t do that. You’ve been avoiding me all night.”

You didn’t answer.

He stepped closer. “You were hiding with Hoseok.”

Your eyes flickered away. “I wasn’t hiding—”

“Then why did you run from me?”

You bit your lip, the words tangling in your throat.

Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look,” he said, voice softer now. “If I did something, just tell me please. Because this—” he gestured between you, frustrated, “—is driving me insane.”

Your emotions surged. The wildfire inside you flared, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out.

“Why didn’t you bite me?”

Jungkook froze.

His eyes widened slightly, caught off guard. “…What?”

Your throat was tight, your heart pounding. “I saw one of the wolves tonight. She had a mark on her neck. She said it was her mate’s claim.” You exhaled shakily. “You never did that to me.”

Jungkook stared at you, his expression unreadable.

Then, after a long pause, he let out a slow breath.

“That’s what this is about?”

You flinched at the way he said it. “Is it stupid?”

His face softened immediately. “No,” he said quickly. “It’s not stupid.”

You hesitated, suddenly unsure. “I just… I don’t know. I just thought it was something wolves did. I thought it was important.” You swallowed hard. “I thought maybe it meant—”

“That I don’t want you?”

Your silence was answer enough.

Jungkook’s expression darkened.

Then, in a single, fluid motion, he stepped forward, crowding you against the nearest wall. One hand braced beside your head, the other curling under your chin, tilting your face up to his.

Your breath caught.

His voice was low, rough. “I didn’t bite you because I didn’t want to scare you.”

You blinked up at him, stunned. “Scare me?”

His thumb brushed against your jaw, his gaze flickering over your features like he was memorizing every inch of you. “A claiming mark isn’t just a bite,” he murmured. “It’s forever.” His voice dropped lower, more intense. “It’s not just a symbol—it’s a bond. A permanent one. And I know you. I know how much you value your freedom.”

Your lips parted, but no words came.

Jungkook’s fingers curled slightly, his grip firm but gentle. “I didn’t want to take something from you that you weren’t ready to give.”

Your chest ached.

For hours, you had been spiraling, drowning in insecurities you hadn’t even realized were there. And all this time, the truth was so simple.

Jungkook hadn’t hesitated because he didn’t want you.

He hesitated because he respected you.

Because he loved you.

The wildfire inside you dimmed, settling into something warm instead of destructive.

Your hands lifted, grasping at the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer. “I didn’t know,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“I should have told you,” he murmured.

You swallowed hard. “Do you still want to?”

Jungkook let out a quiet, breathy laugh. “I have wanted to claim you as mine since the moment I first held you,” he rasped. “Since the second you saved my people. Since you kissed me. There hasn’t been a single day I didn’t want to put my mark on you so every wolf—every creature—knew you were mine.”

Your breath hitched.

You had no idea.

You had spent all this time thinking you weren’t enough, when in reality, Jungkook had been holding himself back.

You reached for him, your fingers sliding into his dark hair, pushing a stray strand from his face. He stilled under your touch.

You smiled, soft but certain. “Then do it.”

Jungkook’s breath shuddered.

His hands trembled slightly as they cupped your face, as if making sure what you meant. “You want to be claimed?” His voice was raw. “Are you sure? It’s forever.”

Your smile widened, eyes shining.

“It’s been forever since the moment you kissed me.”

Something inside Jungkook broke.

He kissed you, hard and deep, a desperate, consuming thing. His hands shook as they pulled you close, his entire body pressing into yours like he needed to feel you—like he needed to make sure this was real.

You melted into him, fingers gripping at his hair, his shoulders, his chest—anywhere you could reach.

Jungkook growled against your lips, tilting your head back to kiss you even deeper, his hands trailing down your spine, gripping, possessive.

Then, suddenly, he froze.

With visible effort, he wrenched himself away, panting. His eyes were blown wide, pupils dark, his hands still gripping your waist like he couldn’t let go.

Jungkook barely gave you a second to catch your breath before his grip tightened around your wrist, his body practically vibrating with restrained urgency. His steps were fast, relentless, and you stumbled slightly, barely able to keep up.

“Jungkook—” you gasped, trying to match his pace, but he didn’t slow down.

His grip was firm but careful, threading his fingers between yours as he pulled you through the village, past the glowing lanterns and the sounds of laughter and music. The festival thrived around you, but it felt a million miles away.

Jungkook wasn’t looking at anything but the path ahead.

Your heart pounded—not with fear, but with anticipation.

He was rushing.

You barely made it past the edge of the village before he hoisted you up without warning. You gasped, arms instinctively wrapped around his neck as his strong arms held you close.

“Jungkook—”

“Hold onto me,” he growled, voice low and rough, pressing his forehead against yours for just a second before breaking into a run.

The world blurred around you, the cool night air whipping through your hair as Jungkook carried you effortlessly. You could feel the raw strength in his body, the barely contained tension in the way his muscles coiled with every stride. He was fast—unnaturally fast—taking the back route to your home, avoiding the main paths, avoiding people.

Your breath was ragged, though whether from the wind or the sheer intensity radiating off him, you weren’t sure.

The moment your house came into view, Jungkook didn’t slow down. He reached the door, fumbled for a second, nearly kicking it open, stepping inside before slamming it shut behind him.

Then—silence.

For a long moment, the only sound in the dimly lit room was the ragged rhythm of your breaths mingling.

Jungkook’s grip on you was ironclad, his arms still wrapped around your body as if he physically couldn’t let go.

You swallowed thickly, hands resting against his shoulders as you stared at him in the low candlelight. His face was cast in shadows, but his eyes—his eyes—burned.

“…Why were you in such a hurry?” you whispered, voice barely above a breath.

Jungkook exhaled sharply, his head dipping down to press his forehead against yours again. His nose brushed against the bridge of yours, and you felt his breath, warm and unsteady.

“Because,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion, “I’m going to claim you.”

Your breath hitched.

His hands tightened on you. “And that is not something for the pack to see. Or your coven. No one.”

You shivered.

Jungkook’s grip trembled slightly, his restraint hanging by a thread. “This isn’t for them. This is ours.”

Your chest ached at the weight of his words, at the depth of feeling behind them.

He had never wanted to claim you as a show of dominance, as some spectacle for others to witness. He had never wanted to make it a public declaration, even if it was something that meant everything to him.

Because you weren’t a prize to him.

You were his.

And that was something sacred.

Your lips parted, but before you could say anything, Jungkook’s mouth was on yours again, desperate and raw, his hands gripping your body like he could mold you against him.

You whimpered against his lips, and Jungkook groaned, stumbling towards the nearest surface—your table, your counter—somewhere—but it wasn’t enough.

With another low growl, he turned sharply and carried you deeper into your home.

You were on the bed in an instant.

Jungkook laid you down with a gentleness that was almost startling—a stark contrast to the desperate intensity in his grip, in his burning eyes, in the way he hovered over you, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. Where you belonged.

Your breath caught in your throat as you gazed up at him.

Jungkook was watching you like a predator, his pupils blown wide, the amber of his irises nearly swallowed by black. His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling rapidly, every muscle in his body taut with restraint.

The flickering candlelight cast shifting shadows over his features, sharpening the cut of his jaw, the tension in his expression, the slight tremble of his fingers as he held you in place. He was trying to be careful. Trying to go slow.

But you could see it. The way his fingers curled into the sheets near your hips, the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips, the way his eyes flickered to your throat when you swallowed, fixated on the movement.

He made a sound deep in his chest—a low, rumbling noise that sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, in a voice raw with hunger, he murmured, “My mate.”

The words sent heat coursing through you, and then Jungkook’s lips were on your throat.

You gasped, fingers curling into his shirt as his mouth pressed against the sensitive skin just beneath your jaw. His lips were warm, softer than they should have been, moving slowly—too slowly—over your pulse.

Your body arched beneath him, desperate for more, and Jungkook groaned, the deep sound vibrating against your throat. His hands tightened around your hips, grounding you, keeping you still.

His mouth moved lower, placing open-mouthed kisses down the side of your neck, trailing warmth wherever he touched. Every kiss was a slow burn, every nip of his teeth sending sparks dancing along your nerves.

You whimpered, the sound slipping past your lips before you could stop it.

Jungkook’s grip on you twitched.

A sharp nip at the curve of your neck had you gasping again, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he exhaled sharply against your skin, his breath coming out ragged.

“You sound so good,” he murmured, voice thick with need.

His hands slid up, fingers tracing along your waist, slow but possessive. He held you like you were something precious, something he needed to keep close, something he had craved for so long that he could hardly believe you were real beneath him.

His lips found your pulse again, his teeth scraping lightly over it, testing, teasing—

And then he soothed the spot with his tongue, pressing a softer kiss there, as if apologizing.

“Jungkook—”

He groaned at the way you said his name, his fingers tightening at your hips.

“Say it again.”

You trembled, his mouth still hot against your throat, and whispered, “Jungkook.”

A deep, shuddering breath. A barely contained growl.

His teeth grazed your skin again—just enough to make your pulse jump—before he kissed you there, pressing his lips against your fluttering heartbeat.

His hands moved, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your clothes, warm and reverent as they traced over your skin. Every touch was claiming, but not in the way you had feared. This was not about possession.

This was about belonging.

He kissed along your collarbone, his nose brushing against your skin as he exhaled shakily.

And then, his voice barely above a whisper, he asked, “Are you sure?”

You knew what he meant.

Knew what this meant.

There was no hesitation.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, pushing back the loose strands that had fallen over his forehead. Your heart pounded, but there was no fear, only certainty.

You smiled, soft and knowing, looking at him with nothing but love.

“You are my forever,” you whispered, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “and I choose you every day.”

Jungkook made a sound between a groan and a whimper—something desperate, something relieved—before he kissed you, hard and urgent and needing.

His hands trembled where they touched you, but he didn’t stop.

Because you were his.

And tonight, finally, he would make sure the world knew it.

Jungkook’s fingers moved with urgency, making fast work of the ties and fabric of your dress. There was nothing rushed about the way he touched you—only a deep, burning need, a quiet desperation that made his hands tremble as he peeled the garment from your body.

Every time he saw you like this, bare beneath him, he felt that same breathless awe. That same overwhelming gratitude.

His lips parted slightly as he took you in, his gaze drinking up every inch of newly exposed skin. He swore he could feel his heartbeat in his throat.

You were always stunning, but like this—soft and open and his—you were devastating.

His fingers traced along your waist, mapping the curves of your body as if he were memorizing you all over again. As if he didn’t already have your image burned into his mind from all the nights you had spent together.

The anticipation coiled low in your belly as you reached for him, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt, nudging at the fabric, silently asking for it to be gone.

Jungkook understood immediately.

He pulled away just long enough to yank the offending material over his head, tossing it carelessly to the floor. Your dress lay beside it, both forgotten, discarded in favor of something much more important.

And then his mouth was on you again.

A sharp gasp left you as his lips met yours, urgent and consuming, drinking in every sound you made.

His hands roamed—over your hips, up your sides, his thumbs brushing along your ribs. His touch was scorching, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

His lips traveled lower, tracing the path of his hands, his breath warm against your skin.

Down the slope of your neck.

Across your collarbone.

His tongue flicked against the delicate skin there, his teeth grazing the spot before he soothed it with his lips.

Your breath hitched, and Jungkook groaned, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

You gripped at his arms, his shoulders, anything to keep yourself anchored. But it wasn’t enough—not when his hands were on you, not when his mouth was worshiping every inch of exposed skin, not when he was pressing you into the bed, surrounding you, claiming you.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist, his lips warm and reverent.

Nothing was safe from Jungkook’s lips.

And he had done nothing more than kiss you—no more than touch you, hold you—yet already, you were a wrecked mess beneath him.

Your chest heaved, your lips parted, your body burning for him.

Jungkook pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and intense, searching your face as if to make sure you were still with him.

The sight of you—the way your skin was flushed, the way your lips were kiss-bruised and swollen, the way your eyes were clouded with need—nearly undid him.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his hands trembling slightly where they held you.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if it was his hands or his lips that first traced down the valley of your breasts—he only knew that every inch of you was intoxicating. His mouth followed the curve of your body, trailing lower, past your ribs, past your navel, where your breath hitched sharply beneath him. The soft tremor of your muscles beneath his touch, the way your skin rippled at every kiss and caress, made his own breath falter.

He could lose himself in you—and he did.

His fingers brushed over your heat, his mouth followed, and the sound that left your lips sent a shudder down his spine, a deep, aching pull that settled in his chest. The way you responded to him, so beautifully, so effortlessly, made something in him tighten and snap all at once.

He hummed against you, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine as his fingers moved with practiced precision. When he looked up, he saw the effort you put into watching him—the way your cheeks were flushed, your breathing uneven, your lips kiss-swollen and parted as soft, needy sounds escaped you. And you were his. You had always been.

Then you moaned his name, a plea wrapped in something raw, something primal.

"Jungkook… Mate."

The word shot through him like lightning, his control unraveling at the seams. He wanted to drown in you, to claim you in every way, to make sure there was no doubt left in your mind that you belonged together.

"Please… I need you."

You hadn’t even reached your peak yet, but how could he deny you? He never could. With a low, approving hum, he moved up, his dark eyes watching you, drinking in the way you looked beneath him—flushed, wrecked, beautiful. His own restraint was hanging by a thread as he shed the last of his clothes, the final barriers between you falling away.

Sitting back on his knees, he reached for you, his voice deep, rough, filled with need.

"Come here, my little mate."

The way he spoke like this, voice thick with desire, was just as dangerous as everything else about him. You obeyed without hesitation, moving onto his lap, your body pressing into his, your heat so close to his own that it felt like you could burn. A shudder ran through you, your arms instinctively wrapping around his shoulders, one hand tangling in the soft strands of his hair at the nape of his neck, grounding yourself in him.

And then you kissed him—deep and desperate, tasting yourself on his tongue as he guided your hips up, just enough to position himself at your entrance. The anticipation made you tremble in his hold, and then—

He moved.

Slowly, he helped you sink down onto him, inch by inch, stretching, filling—until there was nothing left between you. You didn’t know who broke the kiss first, only that when you took all of him, a broken, breathless sound escaped you—half a moan, half a cry.

And Jungkook—your mate—growled in response, his grip tightening, his control shattering completely.

Instead of rushing—of consuming you in a frenzy—Jungkook moved deliberately. Every motion was raw and full, unhurried yet overwhelming in its intensity. He guided you, helping you move, the slow rise and fall setting your entire body alight. You could feel him everywhere—the gentle strokes down your back, his fingers gripping your hips in a steady hold, his lips at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in teasing nips.

Your chest brushed against his with every motion, the friction sending shivers through you. And with every movement, he filled you completely—so deep that you weren’t sure where you ended and he began.

God, you loved him.

You were shaking. Not from fear, but from something else, something more. You didn’t know exactly what would happen when he claimed you, but you hadn’t expected it to feel like this—like possession. Like every part of you was already his, and now, this was just the final step.

But you weren’t complaining.

"Kook—" The question formed on your lips but never fully left, because he growled against your throat, silencing you with nothing but the sound.

"I... I wanna be yours."

You didn’t know what you expected from that confession, but the groan that rumbled deep in his chest told you just how much your words affected him. His grip on you tightened, his body somehow felt even hotter, harder between your legs.

"My little beautiful mate." His voice was low, reverent, but there was something dark beneath it. "You will never be able to choose someone else. You want that?"

You nodded instantly. "Or do you want me to choose someone else?"

A pause. A dangerous tilt to his head.

"No."

The word left him and the growl that came from Jungkook was feral, sending a delicious shiver through you. The answering nip at your neck—sharp, possessive—was all the reassurance you needed.

His hand moved between you, finding you exactly where you needed him most, and the shift in sensation was immediate. A shudder wracked through you, your body arching into his touch.

"Jungkook—"

"It will hurt for a second," he murmured, his voice thick with promise, his lips brushing over the junction of your neck.

You didn’t hesitate.

"Claim me."

A deep, rumbling growl against your skin. A slow lick over the spot he had chosen.

And then—he bit down.

It was everything at once.

Pain laced with pleasure, the sharp sting of his fangs sinking into your skin, followed immediately by a wave of warmth flooding through you. The heat of the bond sealed between you, flowing freely, wrapping around you like fire. His touch burned where he held you, his fingers working you higher, coaxing you toward the edge.

And then you shattered, trembling in his arms, your release crashing into you with an intensity that left you breathless.

Jungkook held you through it, never letting go.

"Y/N."

Your name was all he grumbled between kitten-soft licks against your neck. His voice was low, rough, like gravel and honey all at once.

You shuddered.

You weren’t coming down.

For a moment, panic clawed at you. Your body still burned, your limbs still trembled, and Jungkook was still inside you—still warm, still full, still impossibly hard. Your pleasure hadn't waned, only deepened, stretching into something more, something overwhelming.

"Jungkook—" Your voice shook as you tried to speak, tried to understand what was happening to you. But before your mind could spiral, before the pleasure could consume you entirely, his words grounded you.

"Mark me, Y/N."

Your breath hitched. "What? How—"

But before confusion could take hold, he moved, guiding your hips again, his length dragging against your sensitive walls, prolonging the intoxicating high. His fingers brushed over your neck where his claim lay, his touch reverent.

"Here," he murmured, tilting his head just slightly, baring his throat to you. "Bite me here. You won't hurt me, love. Choose me."

Something inside you cracked open.

Your shaky breath fanned over his skin as your lips met the column of his neck. You kissed him there, slow and deliberate, your tongue sweeping over the taut muscles beneath his skin. A shiver ran down your spine when Jungkook's fingers traced it, the lightest touch that sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core.

His own breath hitched at your touch, his pulse hammering beneath your lips, his grip on your hips tightening as he rocked into you once more.

And then—on your next downward movement—you bit him.

Jungkook groaned.

A deep, guttural sound, like a growl and a prayer wrapped into one. The sound shot through you, and as you felt him pulse inside you, another wave of pleasure crashed over you—hot, blinding, endless.

You shook.

So did he.

You held onto him as his arms wrapped around you like a vice, keeping you flush against him as you both trembled through the overwhelming force of your bond settling into place.

And when you finally pulled away, lips and teeth leaving his neck to meet his eyes—you were home.

You weren’t sure how long you just looked at Jungkook—breathed him in, felt him still inside you, his warmth, his presence. He was doing the same, his eyes roaming your face like he was memorizing every inch of you all over again.

And then, he grinned.

That sweet, boyish grin that made him look younger, softer, less guarded. The grin that was just for you. Just for moments like this.

"I love you."

His hand found the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pressed his forehead to yours, nudging your nose with his. His pinky brushed over the fresh mark he had left on your skin, the touch sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Your legs trembled from your shared exertion, and you tried to shift off of him, but his grip tightened ever so slightly.

"Jungkook, my legs—" you tried to reason, voice half-laughing, half-pleading.

He grumbled but relented, carefully helping you lift yourself off of him. The both of you shuddered as he slipped out of you, the loss making your breath hitch.

And then—

A yelp left your lips as Jungkook suddenly flipped you over his shoulder with ease.

"Jungkook!" you gasped, hands scrambling for purchase against his back, but you couldn’t help the laugh that spilled from you as he carried you like you weighed nothing.

His only response was a playful smack to your rear.

"Let’s get you cleaned up and to bed."

Later, as you lay in bed, tucked beneath his chin, his strong arms keeping you close, your nose brushed against his neck, right over the mark you had left on him. A soft kiss pressed to the spot where your teeth had claimed him, feeling an odd sense of satisfaction. It was still new, the reality of what you had done, of what it meant. And yet, despite your earlier worries, it felt… right. Natural.

"You’re mine," you whispered against his skin, testing the words out loud.

Jungkook’s hold on you tightened.

"Mmm," he hummed in response, already half-asleep. "Damn right, I am."

You chuckled, shaking your head.

"It doesn’t feel different."

Jungkook hummed sleepily. "No?"

"No," you mused. "Maybe you never needed a mark to prove to me that I’m yours."

His grip on you tightened just slightly, his lips pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.

His fingers lazily traced along your spine, up and down in slow, soothing strokes. His breathing started to even out, his body relaxed, but you could still feel the possessive way he held you—like even in sleep, he refused to let you go.

"Still," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with warmth and love, "I like knowing everyone else will see it now, too."

And with that, you let yourself drift, tangled together in warmth, in love, in something eternal.

You only smiled, closing your eyes, letting the warmth of your mate lull you to sleep.

[itstherisingdaylight]

Written for @jilymicrofics March Challenge Prompt 27: Rising || Words: 465 Rating: G Happy Birthday James! This micro is related to my main fic, but can be read independently!

“Why is it taking so long?”

James bent over the kitchen counter, eyeing the loaf of bread. Or really, what was supposed to become a loaf of bread. Eventually.

“It hasn’t even been an hour, James,” Lily said from her place on the sofa.

Despite his impatience, James couldn’t help but cast a fond smile her way. Harry was finally starting to sleep through the night with some regularity, and it had done wonders for her. James helped when he could, but there wasn’t much he could do about feedings.

Which was why he was trying to do something nice for his exhausted wife. But for whatever reason, bread dough took forever to rise.

“And you’re sure I can’t hurry it along with magic?” he asked.

“Don’t you dare,” Lily said. “I told you, it’ll impact the flavour.”

James grumbled.

“Come sit down, Love,” she said.

James did as he was told, not that it was any real chore. Lily sat cross-legged on the sofa, nursing Harry, her hair thrown up in a haphazard bun. But as always, she looked beautiful. Gorgeous, really. And for some reason, she wanted to be married to him. Have a family with him.

“I can wait for the dough to rise,” she said. “I’m not starving, neither are you.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to do something nice for you,” he grumbled.

“You are doing something nice,” she countered. “And you’re keeping me company while this one takes his sweet time.”

They both looked down at the little chunk currently bundled against her, no worry in the world except when he was hungry or tired. James knew nursing was uncomfortable for Lily, but it was safer than always having to go out and buy formula. He wished he could do more.

Or maybe he could!

He stood and went to stand behind her, beginning to rub her shoulders.  They seemed to drop and she leaned further back into the sofa. Harry gave a little snort, still oblivious to anything but food.

“You are growing restless, cooped up,” Lily said. “And you’re trying to take it out on the bread.”

James winced. He didn’t want her picking up on that.

“It’s okay,” she added. “I get restless too. I wish we could go out more than we can.”

“I’ve just never had to stay inside like this, away from everyone else.”

“I know. We’ll grow into it.”

James hoped so. It was a strange thing, feeling both the happiest he’d ever been, and restless to be moving. To be doing something. He sometimes felt guilty for all the good things he had going for him. But then he looked at his wife and son, and the guilt would begin to melt.

“Yeah,” he said. “Good things always take their time rising.”

[onlythebravest]

nightmare saga part idk too many

[the-broken-pen]

“You’re going to blow out your arms,” the villain observed. They watched as the hero merely grit their teeth, shoving themself through another pull-up. It looked painful, and if the sweat slicking the hero’s brow was any indication, it was.

They waited for the hero to let themself drop from the bar and accept the villain was stronger. But they didn’t.

Three more pull-ups, and the villain stepped in.

“Hero,” they said slowly. “You’re about to tear the ligaments in your arms. You need to stop.”

The hero blew out a shuddering breath. Struggled for purchase, fighting gravity—and let themself drop.

The hero’s hands were bleeding, calluses torn open by the bar. The hero didn’t seem bothered when their own hands shook so much that their blood began to splatter on the gym floor.

For a moment, the villain could only stare at them.

Shit.

They didn’t know how to handle this. They knew the hero was dedicated. They knew the hero was strong, and perpetually trying to be stronger, but they hadn’t thought…

They hadn’t thought the hero would be so willing to tear apart their own body for success.

It was supposed to be fun, the villain thought. They felt a little sick as the hero pressed their palms together to soothe the bleeding, an action that was practiced and familiar. As if they had done this before.

The hero reached for something in their bag, smearing blood on the side, and pulled out a roll of blue electrical tape. The villain didn’t understand why, until the hero tore a strip off and made to wrap their hands with it.

The hero would be the death of them.

They crouched in front of the hero, plucking the electrical tape out of their hands.

“What are you doing with this?”

The hero blinked at the villain like they were the strange one in this situation.

“Wrapping my hands?”

The villain hissed in a breath.

“With electrical tape?”

The hero flushed slightly, looking down at their bloody hands. They looked close to tears.

“It…sticks to skin, really well. And it doesn’t move, either, when you move your hands or wherever else, even if you’re fighting. Plus, blood doesn’t make it come off, at least, not for a while.”

The villain blinked at them.”

“Blood doesn’t make it come off,” the villain repeated, processing. The hero nodded, reaching for the electrical tape. The villain settled it out of reach.

“Not if you wrap it right.”

Dimly, the villain realized that meant the hero had done this enough times to have it down to a science.

“And you couldn’t use a bandaid?” The villain asked incredulously. The hero shrugged a shoulder, then winced at the motion.

Yeah, the hero had absolutely blown out their arms.

“Bandaids move—“

The villain hushed them.

“Be quiet for a second.”

The hero, wisely, went quiet.

The villain rubbed a hand over their face, then studied the hero for a moment. They took one of the hero’s hands into their own, studying the damage.

“Why did you do this to yourself,” the villain murmured.

“What do you mean, why,” the hero snapped. “It’s my job.”

“Your job is to save people,” the villain corrected. “Not destroy yourself.”

“I’m not destroying myself—“

“You are.”

“Shut up—“

“Hero.”

“I need to be better,” the hero snapped. Their voice rang out across the gym, echoing into the rafters, and they both froze. After a moment, the hero spoke again, voice soft. “I need to be better.”

They said it like they needed the villain to understand. The villain wondered who they were really saying it to—the villain, or themself.

“Better than who?”

“Everyone.” It was hushed, like a secret.

The villain watched them, waiting.

The hero took a shaky breath

“My whole thing is being the best. I have always been the best. That’s the only reason I matter. If I’m not strong enough, then I am nothing, so I need. to be. better.”

The hero had started crying, very quietly, like they were afraid to take up too much space.

The villain was not equipped to handle gifted kid burnout.

“There’s more to you than just being a good athlete,” the villain said hesitantly, and the hero shook their head.

“No. There isn’t.”

“Hero.”

“Can you give me back my electrical tape?” They hiccuped to contain a sob.

“No,” the villain said firmly, and then the hero really was sobbing.

“You don’t understand—“

The villain didn’t. Not really. They had never been the kind of talented that the hero was.

They wondered now if maybe that was a blessing.

“I don’t,” the villain agreed. “But I do understand that you’ve saved half the city, and you give everything you have to give, and you always do your best.”

“But I-“

“No.” The villain stopped them. “You are doing your best.” They tipped the hero’s chin up until they met the villain’s eyes. “And it is enough.”

The hero froze, eyes darting over the villain’s face. They wondered if anyone had ever said that to the hero, if whatever mentor they had was giving them anything other than orders to be stronger. Be better. Be more.

The villain had some new targets to take care of, it would seem.

For now, though, they had to take care of hero.

“We’re going to go wrap your hands,” they said softly. “And then we’re going to take care of your arms, and you’re going to take a nap.”

The hero nodded, watching them like they were some kind of good, selfless person.

“And if I ever catch you using electrical tape again, so help me, I will put you six feet under.”

That startled a laugh out of the hero, and they let the villain guide them to their feet.

“Fine.”

The villain turned to them. “Okay?”

Are you going to be alright?

The hero seemed to understand.

“Okay,” the hero agreed.

Yes.

And so, it was.

[shorthaltsjester]

free my complex female character, she did the same thing as complex male characters but the fandom takes Any analysis of her actions/choices/motivations that doesn’t strip her of all of her agency in bad faith and claims that only misogynists would dare to critique the things that they’ve noticed in her character because she’s a woman, completely ignoring the over-presence of discourse about similarly traited male characters in their fandom.

[cheekblush]

can someone please come over, remove my makeup, wash my hair, do my skincare, tuck me into bed and kiss my forehead? 🥺

[lesbiansanemi]

Man I’m so tired

[sunnibits]

hey @ my body lowkey this whole “chronic fatigue” thing is getting really old 🙄🙄 like learn when to end a bit yknow jeez :// it’s kind of cringe

[excelsior9173]

really hate that my insomnia can’t just come on its own

it always seems to be in tandem with some really nasty, really low thoughts. and i know it’s all stress induced- i have a very demanding client i am anxious about having to deal with tomorrow and i know that’s why i’m not sleeping

but if the loneliness and self-loathing could fuck off that’d be great. i’d prefer to just deal with the insomnia i do not have the bandwidth to deal with the mean part of my brain tonight

[homosubtext]

i never expected to be someone who drinks black coffee. but here we are.

[navysealt4t]

y’all. it’s midnight. i have an essay worth 70% of my semester 2 ap credit due tomorrow by 2:15 pm. i have about 300-500 words left in the essay one paragraph. should i stay up until i finish it, and spend my study hall editing it. or should i sleep and finish it during study hall and edit during lunch and beginning portion of ap sem (the class period where i have to submit the essay?