#don’t take this seriously it’s just for fun!

[hoshifighting]

hii would you write something like edging jun or not letting him cum for no nut november?? 🙏

edging jun on NNN [no nut november]

WARNINGS: smut, handjob, edging, orgasm denial, teasing.

it’s no nut november, and jun’s the type of dude who takes shit like that way too seriously. like, you had to watch him solemnly promise to himself: “not even gonna look at her thighs 😤✋.” like you’re just her now?

so, naturally, your mission is to ruin him.

“baby, can you please move over?” his voice comes out tight, like he’s already choking on the effort.

you don’t move. you’re perched on his lap, all warm and smug in your oversized hoodie and, yeah, nothing else. your thighs are spread just enough to make him see, and that stupid pair of grey sweatpants is doing zero to hide how badly he’s losing this challenge.

“what, am i heavy or somethin’?” you blink at him all innocent, dragging your hips juuust slightly like you’re adjusting your seat.

jun practically whimpers. it’s pathetic.

“no! you’re not heavy—fuck—can you just—ugh—” he cuts himself off with a hiss, hands clenching the couch cushion instead of your hips.

you lean closer, letting your lips brush against his ear. “you’re so tense, babe. wanna help you relax.” your voice is dripping with false sugariness, and you swear you feel him tremble under you.

“you’re the opposite of relaxing,” he mutters, glaring up at you with that stupid flushed face of his. you tilt your head, pretending to think about it.

“hmm, okay. maybe this’ll help.”

your hands slide under his hoodie, and his skin is burning. fingers dance along his abs, light and teasing, while you let your nails scrape just enough to make him squirm. you watch his jaw tighten, his breathing get shakier, and it’s the best high you’ve ever felt.

“you’re—fucking—evil,” he grits out, squeezing his eyes shut like not looking at you will help. it doesn’t.

“evil? me?” you giggle, running your hands higher until your thumbs brush his nipples. that gets a reaction—his hips jerk up without control, and you bite back a grin when you feel him twitch against your thigh.

“okay, okay, stop,” he pants as he shakes his head. “i can’t—y/n, seriously—”

but there’s no seriously here, not when you’re having this much fun. your lips find his neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that are just shy of biting. he’s trying so hard to keep his hands to himself, but when you drag your teeth along his jaw, they shoot up to grab your hips.

“thought you were stronger than this, not even a week in and you’re falling apart?”

“y/n, please.”

“please what?” you ask, feigning confusion while your fingers toy with the waistband of his sweats. “you’re gonna have to be more specific, baby.”

“you—fuck—” he’s so flustered, it’s adorable. “you know exactly what—shit—i hate you.”

you grin, lips brushing against his skin again. “love you too, babe.” your grin stretches wider when you slip a hand under his waistband, fingers curling around him. he gasps as your thumb brushes over the wet tip of his cock.

“oh, babe,” you coo, voice dripping sweett as you tighten your grip just enough to make him buck up into your palm. “look at you. you’re so sensitive.”

“y/n—oh my god—” his voice cracks like he’s on the verge of tears. his hands are gripping your thighs now. you’re too busy watching his face—his furrowed brows, the eyes rolling back,, the way his lips part with every shaky breath.

“why’re you doing this to yourself, hm?” your voice is soft, teasing, like you’re genuinely curious. “you could just—oh, i don’t know—lose.”

“no,” he chokes out immediately, shaking his head. “i’m not—i’m not fucking losing—”

you hum, pretending to consider his words, and your hand starts to move—slow and wet strokes that have him arching off the couch. “really? ‘cause from where i’m sitting, you look real close to giving up.”

his cock twitches in your grip, a bead of precum sliding down to coat your fingers. you look down at it, letting out a soft gasp like it’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen.

“oh, babe, you’re dripping,” you murmur, spreading the slickness with your thumb. he follows your gaze, his breath catching as he watches you pump him. “you’re such a mess,” you add. “so wet for me.”

“y/n, please—” his voice is breaking, ragged and desperate. his hips are moving on their own now, thrusting up into your hand like he’s completely lost control.

“shh,” you whisper, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple. “let me help you, yeah?”

you speed up just enough to send him stupid, his moans getting louder. you feel him start to tense under you, and you know he’s close—so, naturally, you stop.

“wha—no—no, no, no—” he’s practically begging, his hips still jerking like he’s trying to chase the feeling. “why did you—fuck—why did you stop?”

you shrug, pulling your hand away completely and licking the slick off your fingers. “thought you didn’t wanna lose, babe. i’m just helping.”

“you’re insane,” he groans, throwing his head back against the couch.

“yeah, probably,” you agree, climbing off his lap like you’re totally unaffected by all of this.

he’s panting, trembling, but he still tries to glare at you. “this is—this is actual torture—”

“relax, babe,” you tease, flopping down next to him and running a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “you’ll thank me later.”

but, of course, you’re not done.

not even five minutes later, your hand is back in his sweats, stroking him again like you can’t help yourself. his cock is still so hard, the head flushed and angry-looking, and his body jerks like he’s aching for relief.

“you’re so cute like this,” you whisper honey-sweet. “all desperate and needy. you sure you’re gonna make it through the whole month?”

he tries to answer, but all that comes out is a choked whimper as you tighten your grip and drag your thumb over his slit.

“poor baby,” you coo, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “bet you wanna cum so bad, huh?”

“yes,” he breathes, the word falling from his lips before he can stop it. his eyes widen like he’s just betrayed himself, but you’re too busy grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

“aww,” you mock, your strokes slowing again. “but you can’t, can you? gotta stay strong for the boys.”

the boys? yeah, the boys. it all started with an almost common sense between them. you cant help but hate them for a little bit.

he groans, his hands gripping your wrists like he’s trying to make you move faster. but you don’t let him. instead, you pull away again, leaving him trembling and gasping like he’s about to scream.

“you’re so mean!” he whines broken.

“and you’re soooo stubborn.” you shoot back, pressing one last kiss to his cheek before settling back into the couch like nothing happened.

[lizzieolseniskinda]

RAFE CAMERON - gingerbread house☃︎

x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: you and rafe have a gingerbread house contest

WORD COUNT: 1055

GENRE: fluff

Lizzies Christmas Masterlist. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

the living room was filled with the soft glow of christmas lights and the scent of gingerbread. you and rafe sat at the table in his house, both surrounding by icing tubes, colourful candies, and multiple gingerbread pieces.

you were having a friendly and innocent contest of gingerbread house-building.

“i’m totally winning this,” rafe said confidently, eyeing the pieces in front of him.

rafe had been competitive since the moment you suggested it. he was determined to build the perfect gingerbread house. his brows were furrowed in concentration, and he’d been muttering to himself about how “easy” it was going to be. but as the minutes ticked by, things weren’t exactly going his way.

“why won’t this roof stay up?” rafe groaned, his fingers now sticky with icing, bits of broken gingerbread scattered in front of him. he huffed and tried again, but the more he pushed, the more his walls caved in. “this shit’s rigged.”

you stifled a giggle, glancing at your own house, which was coming together nicely. the walls were standing tall, and you were happily adding little gumdrops along the roofline, completely content in your holiday project. “you’re supposed to let the icing set before piling everything on,” you teased gently, watching him scowl at the lopsided structure in front of him.

“set? i don’t have time for that,” rafe grumbled, wiping icing off his hands. “this is a contest, not a waiting game.”

you laughed, reaching over to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “it’s okay, babe. it’s supposed to be fun!”

your gingerbread house was pretty close to being perfect, but you were having the time of your life.

“how is yours so good?” rafe groaned, his brows furrowed in frustration. “mine looks like it’s about to collapse any second.”

you looked over and stifled a laugh. his gingerbread house was, in fact, on the verge of falling apart. one side was caving in, and the roof was barely holding on. but seeing him so frustrated made it even funnier.

“you just have to be patient, rafe,” you teased. “and maybe don’t use so much icing.”

he muttered something under his breath, clearly getting more and more irritated. he tried to fix the roof again, but it slid right off. “are you kidding me?” he grumbled, now glaring at the house as if it had personally wronged him.

rafe looked over at you, his eyes softening as he took in how happy and relaxed you looked. the way your eyes sparkled as you placed each candy decoration carefully, the way you hummed a christmas tune under your breath — it all made him pause.

maybe he was taking this a little too seriously.

letting out a long sigh, rafe set his gingerbread roof down and leaned back in his chair. “okay, okay,” he muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “i’ll chill out.”

you glanced up from your masterpiece, raising an eyebrow. “oh? did the great rafe cameron just admit he was stressing out over gingerbread?”

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “maybe i did. but don’t get too smug about it, alright? it’s just because i’m letting you win.”

“oh, of course.” you grinned, setting the finishing touches on your house before looking at his. it was a bit of a mess — the roof was still sliding down, one of the walls was crooked, and there were way too many decorations crammed into one side. but it had charm. “honestly, i think yours looks cute.”

rafe raised an eyebrow. “cute? is that what we’re going for?”

“yup,” you said with a nod. “and besides, no one’s judging here. it’s about having fun together.”

rafe’s smirk softened into something warmer as he leaned over to press a kiss to your temple. “well, if that’s the case, i’m having fun. even if this thing is falling apart.”

just as you both were admiring your houses — or in rafe’s case, coming to terms with his — topper walked in, holding a mug of hot chocolate in one hand and stopping in his tracks as he saw the gingerbread battlefield before him.

“what’s going on in here?” topper asked, his eyes scanning the table. “did a gingerbread house hurricane hit?”

you covered your mouth laughing, and rafe shot topper a glare, crossing his arms over his chest. “i'd like to see you do better, man,” he challenged, though the playful tone in his voice showed he wasn't actually mad.

topper wandered closer, inspecting both houses carefully. “hmm, let’s see…” he tilted his head, looking at rafe’s sad attempt first. “this one… it’s got character. a little rough around the edges, sure, but it’s got heart. like… if the house was designed by a demolition crew.”

rafe groaned, throwing a piece of broken gingerbread at topper, who dodged it with a laugh. then, top turned his attention to your house, his expression softening. “now this one… this is a work of art. perfectly symmetrical, cute little decorations, and look at those gumdrops! yeah, i think we have a winner.”

you smiled at the compliment, while rafe just shook his head. “traitor.”

“hey, i’m just being honest,” top said with a shrug, smirking as he took a sip of his hot chocolate. “sorry, rafe. looks like you got crushed by the gingerbread queen.”

rafe grinned, pulling you into his side and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “yeah, well, if i had to lose to anyone, i’m glad it’s her.”

You smiled up at him, feeling warmth spread through your chest.

topper chuckled and turned to your house once more, his eyes widening. “y/n, seriously, you should enter some kind of contest or something.”

you beamed, glancing over at rafe, who was still staring down his gingerbread mess. “thanks, topper.”

“yeah, well,” rafe said, crossing his arms and smirking. “she still had an unfair advantage.”

“what, being good at it?” topper teased, making you laugh.

rafe just shook his head, but there was a soft smile on his face now, his earlier frustration gone. “whatever. i’m still calling it a tie.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “if that helps you sleep at night, sure.”

the gingerbread contest hadn’t exactly gone as planned, but with rafe by your side, it couldn’t have been more perfect.

[daughterofapollo-official]

If Percy had a YouTube Chanel he’d 1000000% would post videos of him at the beach, suffering tips, fun facts about sea creatures.

THAT’s what he got famous for! Sea Animal facts. Just shorts/reals/tiktoks where he just goes on this little rant about a certain animal for the video.

He’s very well know for acting as if he has personally met this animals and talked to them. Which he has, but the majority of human population, being unaware of the Greek myths being real, assume it’s a bit.

Percy’s videos are basically:

“Dolphins are f****** a*******. This one time, i waved at one, and he just flashed me.” He says with wide eyes and dropped jaw “like i don’t want to see your pecker, buddy. Are you crazy? Put that thing away man. Concent bro…. My gods…”

He also post shorts videos where he is just walking on the sand and finds these seashells and picking them up, analyzing them and just talking about them.

“These seal is called a Whelks, they are supper pretty. Sea Snails live in these, they are supper nice color. Sharp too, could kill my step dad with this.” He’d chuckle “Not my current stepdad he’s cool, but my last one… just, stab him in the eye with this beauty.” He smirked and then screamed benoftheweek style and wiggle the shell’s tip in front of the camera and end the recording.

There’s a meme clip of him talking, like sincerely talking to a goldfish in a tank, when taking his little sister somewhere.

he has beef with the VeganTeacher. Basically for the opposite reason Benoftheweek does.

So Ben gets crap from the Vegan Teacher for being pescatarian. Basically you don’t eat any forms of animal products except fish. And That Vegan Teacher hates him for eating fish and not being completely vegan.

So Percy is NOT a pescatarian, vegetarian or Vegan!

However he does use his YouTube as a platform to spread awareness around ocean pollution, he does not eat any sea creatures. He will recommend documentaries about the problems with mass fishing and dumping waste in the waters, such as poop or trash. He is really passionate. About it and is super protective of it.

Daya is that you will eat me and other animal products but nothing from the sea. 

There’s assholes that send him dead fish as a “joke” because he takes it too seriously. He was in absolute rage.

Anyway… he is very vocal about these things and then that vegan teacher started beef with him because he wasn’t spreading awareness about land animals and he should be telling people to not eat animals period, and not that they just shouldn’t eat fish.

She tried to pull her classic “Would you eat a dog” line on him.

And Percy deadass said “um, no. Because that’s not part of my culture. But in some cultures they do eat dogs.” Then he called Frank and made a Chinese joke with Frank, but it was in good taste, it was that ‘playfull everyone in the friend group is a different race so we ironically make race jokes about each other as a way to poke fun of actual racist and this is all in good humor’ kind of joke.

The clip whet viral.

[astrow1zar6]

Sun + Moon Combo Hot takes ~ pt.4

Sun in Sag Cancer moon: this is quite an odd combination. Mixing cancers moodiness, emotional, homebody energy with the adventurous, impulsive, emotionally avoidant energy Sagittarius, you have a versatile mix of energies! I believe this combination will make you to be a lot more empathetic and loyal than your average Sagittarius. I can see these people as being emotional roleercosters especially when they are interested in someone. Can play hot and cold a lot (one minute being very clingy and needy then the next very cold and distant). You can have this war in your mind one part of you wants to settle down and be comfortable the other wants freedom and adventure. U can drive yourself crazy sometimes with these differing views. Since your emotions are usually in a state of chaos you should seek partners who are emotionally stable and grounded. I can see this placement being big foodies too and should be careful to not overindulge especially when stressed. Having cancer as your moon sign you are a lot more cautious than most Sagittarius’s and tend to look before you leap which can save you in a lot of circumstances. However this can hold you back from opportunities if you become too cautious.

Scorpio sun Aries moon: this is like a domestic violence case 😭 but seriously though you guys can be scary when upset. Yall go from 0 to 100 really fast. You can switch up on people pretty quick because of how easily you can be angered. You can be the funnest person in the room until someone says something that triggers you and the party ends very quick lol. I’ve seen these people to resort to harsh words and if really underdeveloped physically will hit or throw things. However their anger usually chills out just as fast as how they got angry. They usually don’t hold grudges like most Scorpio suns. These people can be big dare devils too if you dare them to do it they will! (My friend had this and she was dared to chug a whole bottle of pink Whitney and she did it without hesitation)😭. When they aren’t mad these people are really fun and bold, they have a magnetism to them that draws people near. They can be really flirty too and usually prefer making the first move. These people can be very dominant in their relationships.

Sun in Leo moon in Pisces: this is a very charming placement. The neptunian influence humbles the big ego of Leo. They tend to have a very balanced self esteem without over doing the cockiness (which most Leo’s do) due to the empathy of Pisces. This can make them very attractive to others. They are usually more shy and hide away from attention more than most Leo’s (although they do crave it). They can daydream about fame a lot and imagine their art being put out for all to see (many with this combo are great at art/theatre) if their ideas are actually put into action they can get a lot of recognition for their work. They usually have an issue with ideas just stating ideas which they should learn to get out of. They LOVE daydreaming and can think of some pretty creative stuff. They are big romantics as well and are usually big on grand gestures toward their partner and usually spend A LOT on them. They have a very fairytale like way of giving love.

Leo sun Taurus moon: Big Powerhouse combo. These people are so determined and forceful. If any combination can be successful as an entrepreneur it’s this combination. They have such amazing charisma as well they can charm the boots out of everyone along with their natural confidence it makes these people very business savvy and successful. These people are not afraid of hard-work and LOVE money. They are usually very materialistic (sometimes to a fault) and love luxury. Be careful not to try to buy others love and affection or vice versa. These people can however be very inflexible and aren’t the most diplomatic of people, diplomacy is very foreign to them. They are very “my way or the highway” kinda folks and can lack tact. This can gain them some enemies and quarrels along the road if not careful. ( but usually their charisma gets them out of a lot). Overall this is a very powerful combination (sun being in its home in Leo and moon being exalted in Taurus) most enjoy a lot of wealth and comfort in life.

Scorpio Sun Scorpio moon: …………

Sun in Gemini Virgo moon: these people are normally very logical and have a very minimalistic taste. They are usually very modest and quiet but they have this wild side that craves mental stimulation constantly. This is a double mercury so mental stimulation is big for them. They can become anxious when they get too bored or become under stimulated being too bored can make them become reckless and impulsive so it’s smart to find ways to keep your mind occupied. They come off as very open minded and carefree but lowkey they are judging you so hard lmao. They criticize people constantly even though they will look as if they accept you (which is a lil scary). These people can be huge over-thinkers and think themselves into self destruction if they aren’t careful. These energies are usually very difficult to balance. This is also a big people pleaser combo. They are very concerned with performing perfectly in front of others and are afraid of coming off as awkward or embarrassing. They can wear a bit of a fake mask in social situations for this very reason.

Scorpio sun Pisces moon: this is the family member you never see and don’t ever know shit about lol. They just pop up every once in awhile. These people are very lowkey and private. It’s very rare they let others into their inner worlds only if they trust you which can be difficult because they can be triggered easily even by jokes. They have this emotional intensity that they usually keep repressed in them until they find someone worthy of sharing that side of them (which is usually partners) so they normally come off as very nonchalant and aloof to others. However if they let you in their inner circle they are loyal to you for life. But even with people they trust they can disappear a lot and demand a certain amount of space to recharge their emotional batteries. These people are very mysterious and charming and act as a quiet magnet to those around them. They give off siren vibes.

Sagittarius sun libra moon: these are like those girls who have a big friend group and is captain of the cheer team and has a perfect relationship with…. You get the picture these people are usually extremely likeable and popular. They give golden retriever vibes and it’s very rare to feel much negative energy from them. They are overall very positive people with healthy mindsets and relationships. Every person I met with this placement were the most easy going people I’ve ever met. You guys are usually a natural in social situations and can make friends pretty easily. The only bad thing I can say about this placement is that you can be too dependent on your relationships with others to a point where you can neglect yourself and your own needs & you tend to ignore negative emotions which causes a build up internally. These people should also beware of having a god complex because of how easy it is for them to attract others it can make them come off as cocky if not careful. But overall this is a very likeable combo.

[hrrtshape]

WHY YOU SHOULD NEVER, EVER, LIKE...  EVER  TAKE SHIFTING ANTIS SERIOUSLY : A TUMBLR TED TALK BY YOURS TRULY.

let’s be real for a moment: shifting antis are, at best, just a big ball of negativity in an already chaotic world. their energy? unmatched—but not in a good way. they’re like the online equivalent of someone loudly sighing in a café because you dared to dream too big. WE DO NOT HAVE TIME FOR THAT.

WE ARE DESTINED FOR GREATER THINGS!!

⋆ ৎ ANTI ENERGY IS LOW-VIBRATION ENERGY.

picture this: you’re manifesting, scripting, or just vibing, and some rando says, “shifting isn’t real. why waste your time?” first of all, WHO ASKED? second, that’s lowkey uninspired. dreaming big, going to realities, and exploring multiverses is the highest form of self-love. if someone doesn’t believe in shifting, fine—but why let their limited worldview limit yours?

you’re vibing at a cosmic frequency. shifting antis are stuck on AM radio static. who’s winning here? YOU. PERIOD.

⋆ ৎ PROJECTING MUCH???

let’s be honest for a second: most antis didn’t wake up one day and decide, “i hate shifting for no reason.” no, no—they probably tried shifting themselves and got frustrated because they didn’t see instant results.

here’s the thing: shifting is about belief, patience, and trust in yourself. if someone goes into it thinking, “this won’t work,” it’s not going to align for them. then they go all, “well, if i can’t do it, NO ONE CAN,” which is peak main character delusion (and not the fun kind).

BUT. BUT. BUT. JOKES ON THEM!!! they’re literally still shifting every second. even their miserable little anti rants are part of the infinite multiverse. the gag is they just don’t realise it yet.

shifting antis love to act like they’re oh-so-logical, but deep down? they’re projecting their frustration at themselves. they didn’t understand how to connect with their imagination, they gave up too quickly, or they couldn’t let go of doubt. “i didn’t get invited to the party, so i’ll ruin it for everyone else.”

meanwhile, we’re out here crafting drs like the visionary artistes we are, because we KNOW the magic is real. imagine being so upset about your own mindset that you try to crush someone else’s joy. embarrassing.

⋆ ৎ WHY HOLD ONTO WORDS THAT DON'T ALIGN WITH YOUR VISION?

when antis say something like, “that’s not possible,” just think about how many things in life people once thought were impossible: flying planes, sending texts, literally the internet. antis are living proof that humanity’s greatest naysayers are often the first ones left behind when the rest of us are busy making history.

you’re a trailblazer. you’re crafting YOUR dream life while they sit there trying to find plot holes in your magic. imagine wasting energy like that.

⋆ ৎ THEY DON’T UNDERSTAND THE ROMANCE OF IT ALL.

there’s something so poetically beautiful about shifting—choosing your reality, painting the details of your life, creating the love, adventure, or peace you crave. antis don’t get it because they can’t grasp the ART of it.

we, the dreamers, are like renaissance artists, and antis are..........stick figures in a notebook. nothing wrong with that, but they’re NOT on our level.

⋆ ৎ THE MULTIVERSE IS LITERALLY LIMITLESS.

we shift every second. literally EVERY SECOND. from one thought to another, one moment to another—you’re already living proof of the multiverse in motion. to suggest shifting is “impossible” is laughable.

antis are operating under the assumption that their understanding of the universe is the correct one..... giving “the earth is flat” energy.

⋆ ৎ "SHIFTING CAME FROM TIKTOK"??? BE SO *&^@$%# SERIOUS RIGHT NOW.

okay, the audacity of this one actually sends me. imagine thinking that something as ancient, as cosmic, as universal as shifting realities started on tiktok. like, who raised you? a wi-fi router? obviously not two responsible parents.

let’s be real: shifting has existed LONG before tiktok was even a glimmer in silicon valley’s eye. people have been exploring the multiverse and manifesting their desires through lucid dreaming, astral projection, meditation—you name it—for centuries. it’s woven into spirituality, philosophy, and even ancient traditions.

tiktok just made the aesthetic more mainstream. that’s it. saying shifting started on tiktok is like saying love songs started with taylor swift—iconic, but definitely not the origin story.

when antis use the “tiktok made it up” argument, it’s just them trying to make shifting look frivolous and unserious. it’s giving “kids these days” energy, and we’re not here for it.

but let’s break it down for them ::

⋆ shifting is rooted in practices older than most antis’ family trees. ⋆ philosophers have speculated about alternate realities since forever (shoutout to descartes. read my post about using his "i think, therefore i am" and it's connection to shifting!!). ⋆ mystics, shamans, and even modern psychologists have talked about parallel universes and altered states of consciousness.

why are you lyin, ho??? is it because they don’t want to admit they’re out here battling teenagers who have better imaginations than they do? is it because they lack the emotional range to comprehend the limitless multiverse? or is it just because misery loves company? whatever the reason, it’s not our problem.

if you’re gonna argue against something, at least come correct. saying shifting “stemmed from tiktok” is not only wildly inaccurate but also just lazy.

life is short. dream big. shift realities. write 300-page scripts. imagine yourself in your fame dr sipping chanel-branded tea. let the antis stew in their own doubt while you glide across realities like the cosmic royalty you are.

their opinions don’t pay your bills, bring you joy, or write your scripts. leave them behind. you’re doing ICONIC things.

in this multiverse, you are the main character. antis are just background noise. keep shining, keep shifting, and keep being the dreamy legend you are.

and remember: the only validation you need is your own.

#antisWHO #dreamBIGandleavethoseschizosalone

[kingofbodyrolls]

Waaaaaaah—this review 🤧🤧🤧

Okay, I’m not gonna lie—I totally cried (like full-on tears streaming down my face, snotty sobbing CRIED) when I read this utterly kiss-worthy review 😭💜 First of all, YOU. You are an amazing, radiant human being for taking the time to write me something so thoughtful and beautiful. And second, THANK YOU for reading my story—and for LOVING IT THIS MUCH?! I’m losing it. Over the moon, doing cartwheels, screaming-into-my-pillow happy.

This story means so much to me. Sure, it’s a “silly” enemies/rivals-to-lovers trope (one of my absolute favorites, btw), but writing this Seokjin was something else entirely. Everything just clicked—like the characters were sitting in my head, running the show—and I couldn’t stop the flow. And THEN, to sit on it for a month? Torture. Absolute torture 😭

I’m so thrilled the ridiculous puns hit the mark! I went ALL OUT trying to make them over-the-top bonkers, the kind of jokes where you can’t help but laugh and groan at the same time 😂 Thank you for appreciating my cringe-core humor!

YES 👏 to your comment about oc! There was no way I was letting her win too easily. Like, no ma’am—growth and progression is the name of the game. And don’t even worry about next year—girl is coming back with a vengeance. She’s gonna kick Seokjin’s Worldwide Handsome butt and snatch that first place trophy! 🏆

Lol, the part where Seokjin never thought of her as a rival? 💀🤣 Classic. I’m SO happy you found the ending satisfying! I love crafting open endings—there’s just something about leaving a whisper of “what’s next?” for the readers to imagine, while subtly sprinkling in my own intentions as an author 🤭

Oh, and in case you missed it—here’s the mock-up of Seokjin’s subreddit [link]! I had way too much fun making it, but now I can’t stop imagining oc having her own subreddit too. Like, picture it: the fandoms and the shipping wars 😂

As for drabbles or extras? Maybe! Possibly! Who knows? Knowing how much people adore this couple gives me all the motivation in the world, though 🥹

Seriously, thank you. This review not only warmed my heart, but also brightened my entire afternoon. You made me laugh, cry, and smile all at once. You’re the best, and I love you for it. 💜

Doughn’t Go Baking My Heart (m) | ksj

This Christmas season, you’re back in the kitchen, whisk in hand and determination in your heart, entering the annual holiday baking competition once again. The goal? Finally beat your long-time rival, the infuriatingly talented Kim Seokjin. But as the ovens warm and the ingredients come together, you realize it might not be just the doughs rising this year… Will the holiday spirit bring you closer, or will the heat of competition drive you further apart? 😜

→ Pairing: seokjin x reader (female) → AUs: baking!au, competition!au, christmas!au, holiday!au → Trope: enemies to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / romcom / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 16.5k → Warnings + triggers: an insane amount of stupid and bad jokes with sexual undertones (like it borders on cringey), tension and a lot of it, sexual frustration, pettiness (briefly), jealousy (briefly), baking jokes turned sexual (I’m sorry, not sorry), unprotected sex in the form of oral (female and male receiving), missionary and very vanilla sex, kissing, tender but also a tiny bit rough (not really, lol), big dick Seokjin, nipple play, nipple sucking, breast play, creampie, multiple orgasms, mention of aftercare (but not described), other sexual encounters that aren’t described in detail, pet names (he calls her princess). → Author’s note: hiiiii!! Hello! Long time no see! I was in a Christmasy mood (written in the end of October lol), and I’ve written this cute and tension filled Christmas love story for my dear friend @allie-in-the-moon 💜 Thank you so much for always reading, commenting and loving my work so much; it means the world to me!!! 😭 So I hope that this story shows my deep gratitude for you—I hope you, and everyone else enjoys it ✨ Please don’t be afraid to let me know what you think with a comment, reblog and even an ask. I’d love to hear your thoughts, even if it’s just you spamming the keyboard or lots of emojis. There’s a lot of bad jokes and puns in this and you get bonus points if you know what song inspired this pun of a title! 😂 (also, I did not proofread this, I know there’s some mistakes, but I’m too lazy to fix them lol). → Read the spoiler? [JINtastic subreddit]  → Read on AO3? [link] 

With your duffel bag slung over your shoulder, you tread the frosted path from the bus stop to the towering silhouette of the grand castle—the heart of the annual Great Christmas Bake-Off. The castle looms before you, its turrets crowned with glistening snow, twinkling lights casting a soft glow in the winter twilight. For three years now, you’ve returned to this place, yet this time, the air feels different, charged with a deeper longing. You clench your hands inside your pockets, the icy wind biting through the fabric of your jacket, as if the cold itself is testing your resolve. If only this could be the year—if only you could finally claim victory, or at least break into the top three.

But as your thoughts drift toward victory, a familiar dread settles in your chest. Kim Seokjin. Your long-time rival, the thorn in your side, always there to ruin your focus with his relentless, groan-worthy jokes. Of course, he’ll be attending again, as smug as ever. A sigh escapes your lips. Can you endure four more weeks of his puns? The mere thought grates at your nerves like a dull knife. Still, you take solace in the fact that there are other contestants—ten, to be exact. Perhaps you can avoid him altogether this year, lose yourself in the company of kinder souls. The thought lifts your spirits, and before you know it, you’re humming a soft tune to the melody of a Christmas song that drifts on the edge of memory—its name lost to the blur of countless holiday seasons, but its warmth still familiar.

Footsteps crunch behind you, but you pay them no mind, your gaze fixed on the castle doors. You can only hope that this time, luck will favor you with a decent room—not like the first year, where you were stuck in a damp, windowless chamber that smelled of mold. This year, everything must be better. Especially now that the world will be watching, with the competition broadcast live on national television. You can’t help but smile, a flicker of excitement mixing with your breath in the cold air, as the castle draws closer.

This time, you tell yourself, things will be different.

The castle stands as a relic of a bygone era, its weathered stones whispering tales of the past, likely from the 1800s or older—though you’re not quite sure. Normally, this place serves as a museum, preserving its history, but every December, it transforms into something magical. As the first of the month dawns, the grand structure becomes home to the Great Christmas Bake-Off, and its ancient walls are filled with the warmth of ovens and the thrill of competition. Surrounding the castle is a scene straight out of a holiday dream: towering evergreens, their branches heavy with snow, stretch towards the sky; a silver stream winds through the rolling hills, and the fields spread wide, blanketed in pristine white. It’s a vision of Christmas perfection, and you can’t help but love it, the landscape glowing with the enchantment of winter.

At last, you make your way up the gravel-strewn path, each step crunching beneath your boots, until you reach the enormous wooden doors of the castle. They are old and heavy, carved with intricate designs, and it takes all your strength to push them open. Inside, a familiar warmth greets you. The space is draped in festive splendor—rich red and gold hues, a plush crimson carpet underfoot, and ancient paintings adorning the white walls, their gilded frames thick with history. You step up to the reception desk, where a handsome blond man stands, his name tag reading ‘Park’. His eyes, a warm hazelnut brown, twinkle with mischief as he catches your smile. “Hi, I’m here for my room key. I’m part of the competition,” you say, offering him a smile that becomes even brighter when you sense the shadow looming behind you. You know exactly who it is without turning around. Determined not to give him any attention, you focus on Park, your smile sweetening as you push aside thoughts of the man behind you.

Park’s lips curl into a grin as he hands you a key. For a brief second, your fingers brush his, and the warmth of his touch is a small comfort against the cold that lingers in your hands. “I’ve given you the best room,” he says with a playful glint in his eyes, “the perfect room for someone as lovely as you.”

Your cheeks flush despite yourself, and you chuckle softly. Oh, he’s sweet, and trouble, you think. But you feel a surge of relief���finally, you won’t be stuck in the dreaded moldy room. Behind you, a familiar scoff cuts through the air, and you roll your eyes. You don’t need to look to know who it is, and you breeze past him, a skip in your step as you make your way to your room.

Finding it easily, you unlock the door and step inside. It’s small, yes, but far more comfortable than your first year here. A single bed sits in the center of the room, draped in dark green linens that match the heavy curtains cascading down from the tall window. The pillows, a deep crimson, add a touch of festive warmth to the space. Exhausted, you drop your duffel bag to the floor and fall onto the bed with a contented sigh, your eyes slipping shut. Tomorrow, the competition begins, and you know you’ll need every ounce of rest you can get.

When you wake, your muscles ache from the journey, and your face feels puffy from sleep. Groaning softly, you gather your things and shuffle down the hallway toward the showers, your fluffy slippers barely making a sound against the cold stone floor. The warm spray of the shower jolts you awake, and by the time you’re dressed, with fresh makeup and a clear mind, you feel ready for the day ahead. With a steady heart and your baking utensils in hand, you descend the grand staircase toward the great hall, where the scent of cinnamon and sugar will soon fill the air. The competition calls, and this time, you’re determined to make your mark.

The main hall is vast, its high ceilings echoing with the murmur of anticipation. Twelve baking stations stand neatly in two rows, six on each side, gleaming under the soft glow of hidden lights. The air hums with energy as cameras are discreetly tucked in the corners, their lenses poised to capture every moment, while the judges’ table—grand and imposing—commands attention at the front. A producer, dressed in black with a headset and microphone, guides you to your station, and you carefully set your supplies on the smooth surface. The shelves beneath the counter provide just enough space to stow away your ingredients and tools, your hands moving methodically as you prepare for what’s to come.

But then, your heart sinks as you catch sight of him—Kim Seokjin. To your horror, the producers direct him to the station right next to yours. You feel a knot tighten in your stomach as he flashes you that signature smile, all too sweet and saccharine, with the familiar mischief sparkling in his crinkling brown eyes. “Fancy seeing you here,” he quips, as he ties his apron around his slender waist, his movements annoyingly graceful. “Back to get your ass kicked again?” His chuckle is low, smug, a sound that makes your blood boil beneath your skin. You clench your jaw, forcing yourself to inhale slowly. Calm. You need to stay calm to bake well, you remind yourself, even as the heat of irritation rises within you. “Yeah,” you grunt back, your voice low with restrained anger. “I plan on wiping the floor with your face.” Why, of all people, do you two have the front row benches?

Around you, the hall grows busier. Cameramen move quietly through the room, adjusting angles, capturing every nervous glance and confident grin. The judges have arrived—Yun Christina, a legend in the baking world, with her sharp eyes and warm smile, and Kim Taehyung, whose playful charm hides a discerning palate. At the side stands the commentator, Jeon Jungkook. His tall frame is hard to ignore, built like an athlete with a face so soft it seems to contradict the sleeve of tattoos he wears with pride. There’s something effortlessly captivating about him, and his smile draws as much attention as his ink.

“We’re live in 10 minutes!” a producer announces, and the familiar flutter of anxiety churns in your stomach. No matter how many times you’ve done this competition, the nerves never quite fade—especially with the weight of live television hanging over you. The thought of making a mistake, of becoming a viral meme or the subject of a Reddit thread, haunts the edges of your mind. Seokjin knows this pressure all too well—he’s practically an online legend. His Instagram is filled with stunning images of his creations, each post a curated masterpiece, and he even has a subreddit dedicated to his handsome face and corny jokes. ‘Don’t get Jinxed,’ they call it. You’ve definitely never visited the site, but the stories of his fandom are everywhere, impossible to ignore.

The judges step forward, their presence commanding immediate attention. Christina beams at the group, her hands clasped in excitement, while Taehyung grins with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Welcome, everyone,” he begins, his deep voice resonating through the hall. “Today, we’ll start off easy. Your challenge is to create regular buns, but with the sweet taste of Christmas in them.” His smile broadens, and he pauses dramatically. “You’ll have one and a half hours to present Christina and me with six perfect buns. Let the magic of Christmas guide you.”

Christina claps her hands together, her joy infectious. “We can’t wait to taste what you create! Ready. Set,” she says, her voice lifting the room, and then— “Bake!”

The word slices through the air, and the competition springs to life. Your heart pounds as your hands move instinctively, the ingredients becoming your allies in this battle of skill and precision. Seokjin hums beside you, the sound grating against your nerves, but you push him from your mind. There’s no time for distractions—not today. Today, you’re here to prove yourself, to create something more than just buns. You’re here to craft a masterpiece, with the essence of Christmas baked into every bite.

In a flurry of motion, you gather everything you might need at your station—the gleaming kitchen machine ready to knead the dough, bowls stacked high, the flour, sugar, and baking powder measured with care. Your mind races as you dash to the refrigerators at the back, the cool air biting your cheeks as you grab fresh yeast. Spices linger nearby, their rich aromas filling the air, and you make a swift decision—cinnamon and apples. The sweet warmth of cinnamon paired with the crisp, tart apples is a classic, a comforting blend that whispers of holiday mornings by the fire. With practiced hands, you quickly dissolve the yeast in lukewarm water, watching the delicate bubbles rise before adding it to the flour and oil. The kitchen machine hums to life, its rhythmic kneading a soothing counterpoint to the buzz of the room. Time is your greatest adversary—dough needs to rest before it can rise into perfection, and every second counts. While the machine works, you gather crisp apples, their skins glistening under the lights, and grate them roughly, the scent of fresh fruit mingling with the warm spices around you.

As you’re focused on the task at hand, Jungkook appears beside you, his presence radiating calm curiosity. “What are you making?” he asks, his voice smooth, as the camera zooms in on your hands, catching every careful movement. You glance up, giving him a soft smile, though your mind is racing. “Apple cinnamon buns,” you reply, juggling ingredients with a steady hand. His smile broadens. “A classic combo,” he says approvingly before moving to Seokjin’s station.

Your heart sinks as you hear Seokjin’s voice, his tone confident and infuriatingly charming. “I’m making pumpkin buns with cinnamon sugar on top,” he announces, and you can almost hear the smug grin in his words as he adds that he’ll be shaping them like pumpkins. Like pumpkins are even a Christmas thing? You roll your eyes, irritation bubbling as the camera lingers on him far longer than it did on you. It’s not that you’re jealous—not exactly—but it’s hard not to notice how much more attention he gets, how the spotlight seems to favor him, casting everyone else into the shadows.

Returning to your dough, you add the shredded apples to the mix, the machine whirring gently as it blends them in. When the dough is ready, you pull it from the machine, feeling the weight of it in your hands. There’s something grounding about working the dough with your fingers, shaping it, molding it—your hands know the rhythm of this dance well. You sprinkle flour across the table, working the dough slowly, savoring the texture, your hands moving in steady, practiced motions.

“Careful with that dough,” Seokjin pipes up from beside you, a playful glint in his eye. “I wouldn’t want you to get too kneady.” His pun hangs in the air, and you cringe, resisting the urge to groan as the cameraman swoops in, once again capturing his every move.

“That was so bad,” you mutter under your breath, rolling your eyes as you divide the dough into six even portions. Each piece is dusted with flour, your hands working quickly, forming the dough into perfect rounds. A glance over at Seokjin reveals that he’s somehow ahead of you—some of his buns already resting, a smirk playing on his lips as if he knows exactly how much this irks you.

He chuckles, his voice low as he works his dough with casual ease. “You should watch yourself,” he teases, “or you’ll end up spread out like this dough.”

You stifle a groan, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you grab a baking tray, your movements quick and efficient as you line it with parchment paper. Carefully, you place your apple cinnamon buns down, spacing them out before covering them with a cloth, allowing the yeast to work its magic as they rise and puff up. Your eyes dart back to Seokjin’s station, and you can’t help but notice how far ahead he still is—his bench already wiped clean, his buns resting, as if he’s been playing this game for far too long.

But you remind yourself—it’s not about speed. It’s about the buns. And yours will be nothing short of perfect.

You glance at Seokjin again, feeling the weight of his presence beside you, and rush to clean your bench with hurried hands. His voice cuts through the noise, playful and sharp, “You keep staring at me like that, and I might think you’ve forgotten what we’re actually baking here,” he says, his laugh spilling out in waves—full-bodied and obnoxious, like a windshield wiper squeaking through a storm. God, how you hate it. That laugh grates on your nerves, scraping at the last of your patience.

With your bench spotless, there’s nothing left to do but wait. You cross your arms, eyes wandering, trying to ignore the anticipation that hums in the air. Jungkook is moving through the room, his voice soft but firm as he interviews the other contestants. You tune out Seokjin’s interview, determined not to let him rattle you, focusing instead on calming your breath. When it’s your turn, you speak with a quiet passion about your love for baking—how each year you come back, driven by the dream to win, just once, to finally claim the prize that has always been just out of reach.

The minutes trickle by, and after what feels like forever, you lift the cloth to reveal your buns, risen and perfect, their golden promise waiting to be fulfilled. Seokjin pulls the cloth off his buns at the same time, his voice dripping with mischief as he grins your way. “You really know how to get a rise out of me... or is that just the yeast talking?” His laughter fills the room again, and this time, it spreads like wildfire. You hear the other contestants chuckling behind you, and your stomach tightens with frustration. So lame. The joke was painfully lame, and yet they laugh as if he’s a comedy genius. You push forward, determined not to let him get under your skin. Brushing your buns with a delicate layer of egg wash, you sprinkle chunky sugar over the tops, watching it glisten in the light. The oven waits, hot and ready, and with practiced ease, you slide your tray inside. For a moment, you linger there, sitting in front of the oven like a camper before a flickering fire, watching as the buns slowly turn golden. You know this process well, the way the dough will puff and brown in exactly eleven minutes, and you double-check the timer, feeling a quiet confidence bloom in your chest.

When the timer beeps, you pull the buns from the oven, their perfect golden sheen filling you with a rush of pride. They look beautiful, warm and inviting, just as you’d imagined. To your right, Seokjin is already plating his buns with a flourish, his hands moving with an ease that makes you grit your teeth. You rush to do the same, arranging your apple and cinnamon creations with care, each one a testament to your skill.

The competition timer rings, and the tension in the room snaps like a wire pulled too tight. One by one, the contestants are called to present their work. When Seokjin’s turn comes, you can barely contain the roll of your eyes as the judges swoon over his pumpkin-shaped buns, praising his technique, his creativity. He stands there, soaking in their compliments with a smile so smug you can almost feel it radiating across the room. He eats it all up, every word, while you silently seethe, waiting for your moment.

And then, it’s your turn. You walk to the front, presenting your apple cinnamon buns with steady hands, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders. Christina and Taehyung inspect your work, and you hold your breath, but to your relief, their expressions soften into smiles. Compliments flow your way—no critique, no hesitation. They love the warmth, the balance of flavors. Satisfaction warms your chest, but you keep it inside, holding your victory close, knowing there’s still a long road ahead.

At the end of the round, a contestant is eliminated—a guy named Kwon, whose face you barely remember. Only eleven remain now. Ten more to beat.

The cameras finally stop rolling, the tension in the room easing as everyone begins to disperse. You head toward your room, eager to review your baking books, one of them authored by none other than Kim Taehyung himself. But just as you’re about to retreat into the quiet of your thoughts, you feel a hand on your arm. You turn, and there’s Seokjin, his smile sharper than before, his eyes glinting with something like challenge.

“Good luck tomorrow,” he says, his voice smooth as silk, but with an edge that sets your teeth on edge. “Just remember, there’s only room for one winner here. But...” he pauses, his tone growing sweeter than honey, “I might let you take a bite of my victory… if you ask nicely.”

You clench your fists, resisting the urge to respond with the fire burning behind your eyes. Instead, you offer him a tight-lipped smile, letting your silence speak for you. You won’t let him win—not this time. Tomorrow, the real competition begins.

A good night’s sleep can cure almost anything—but not, it seems, the stubborn ache in your back. The new room may be a small upgrade from the first year, but the bed springs creak like old bones, refusing to offer even a whisper of comfort. You sigh, stretching your stiff limbs, trying to shake off the lingering fatigue. 

Yesterday’s competition left a flurry of emotions behind, but instead of retreating to your room, you spent time mingling with the other contestants, laughing, chatting, doing your best to dodge the dark-haired Seokjin whose presence you’ve come to despise. There are so many fresh faces this year, and a few familiar ones from the past—some that carry the weight of past victories. You’ve even found yourself thinking, more than once, that there should be a rule: once you win first place, you shouldn’t be allowed to enter again. Let someone else have a shot. Let you have a shot. It’s a wish that flickered through your conversations with the other women, murmured over cups of tea and shared frustrations. But rules are rules, and here you are—still in the shadow of Kim Seokjin. 

But not for long.

With newfound determination swelling in your chest, you stride down the grand staircase, each step echoing your resolve. The camera crew is already in place, their lenses trained and waiting for the drama to unfold. Not today. Today you won’t be sent home. You can feel it in your bones. You glide to your station, pointedly ignoring Seokjin’s casual wave and sugary smile—he won’t distract you, not this time. You can feel his eyes on you, but you keep your focus sharp. Today, you’re here for one thing, and it’s not his attention.

The judges enter with a quiet authority that pulls everyone’s gaze. Taehyung, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, claps his hands together and greets the room in that deep, melodic voice of his. “Good morning, everyone! Today’s challenge is another easy one, yeah. We’re keeping it simple—cookies.”

Cheers ripple through the room from contestants behind you, their excitement palpable. But you know better. Cookies aren’t just cookies. There’s an art to simplicity, and you can’t afford to underestimate it. As Taehyung speaks, Christina steps forward, her voice soft but full of warmth. “You’ll be making two varieties of cookies. Six of each, so twelve in total. The flavors are up to you, but they need to complement each other,” she says with a gentle smile, her eyes scanning the room, lingering on the possibilities. 

Off to the side, you catch a glimpse of Jungkook—tall, tattooed, and sharp-eyed—ready to start the competition with his usual flair. Before he even has a chance to utter the word “bake,” your mind is already alive with ideas. Chocolate, orange zest, cinnamon, almonds—flavors begin to swirl together in your thoughts like sugar in a mixing bowl. Your hands itch to begin, your mind races, and your heart pounds with the thrill of creation.

This is your moment. You’ll make it count.

Before your mind has fully settled on a plan, your hands are already in motion—grabbing bowls, spoons, and flour the moment Jungkook’s voice announces the start. The familiar rhythm takes over, and you quickly turn the oven’s dial, ensuring it will be heated just in time for your dough’s transformation. Under the bench, you find a block of chocolate, its dark richness calling to you. With swift, practiced motions, you chop it into large, satisfying chunks, the knife’s steady rhythm keeping pace with your heartbeat. Chocolate chip cookies—simple, but timeless. Your grandmother’s recipe is legendary, the kind that lingers in memory, and you know it will speak for itself on the judges’ tongues.

Adding chopped almonds for texture, you blend the sticky dough, your hands moving as though by instinct. Soon, the dough is portioned out in neat mounds on parchment, each one promising gooey perfection. Into the oven they go, disappearing behind the hot glass, and already your mind is leaping ahead to the next batch. Orange zest, you decide—a bright, citrusy contrast to the chocolate, something both bold and nostalgic.

As you stir the second dough, the spoon moving lazily through the thickening batter, you catch sight of Jungkook and two cameramen gliding over to Jin’s station. You roll your eyes, already anticipating the onslaught of Reddit posts, memes, and fangirls swooning over whatever nonsense Jin is about to spout. No doubt, he’s ready to charm the cameras.

“So, Seokjin, what kind of cookies are you making? Just from the batter, they look really delicious,” Jungkook says, trying to sneak a taste from Jin’s mixing bowl like a kid caught in a cookie jar.

“I’m making candy cane cookies with vanilla, and a batch of chocolate peppermint crunch,” Seokjin replies smoothly, his voice practically dripping with the satisfaction of knowing all eyes are on him.

“Amazing! Can’t wait to taste,” Jungkook beams, while Seokjin slides his tray into the oven with a showman’s flourish. A burst of steam escapes as he shuts the door, and he turns to the cameras with that signature smirk of his. “Is it hot in here, or is it just the oven? Or maybe…” He pauses, eyebrows raised suggestively. “Maybe it’s just you?” 

You scoff, even though your gaze lingers on the scene longer than it should. That was painfully predictable, but no doubt, the fangirls will swoon. You shake your head, refusing to admit you’ve ever spent a moment browsing through Jin’s subreddit—no, not you.

Jungkook, ever the charmer, saunters over to your station just as you pull the first tray of cookies from the oven. The golden-brown chocolate chip beauties rest on the tray, and the smell of warm, melted chocolate fills the air. His eyes widen in anticipation, practically salivating. He reaches for one, but you gently swat his hand away, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips. “Careful,” you warn, “they’re hot—and there’s only six.”

Jungkook pouts, his lips forming a playful smile. “They look incredible,” he admits, his gaze still fixed on the cookies as though they were treasures freshly unearthed.

Before you can respond, Seokjin’s voice cuts through the moment from your right. “Looks like your cookies aren’t the only thing heating up in here,” he quips, his deep laugh filling the room—rich, unrestrained, and annoyingly confident.

You grit your teeth, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, unsure whether it’s from the oven’s warmth or Seokjin’s infuriating presence. His words swirl around in your mind, making your blood simmer, but you refuse to look his way. Not today. You won’t let him distract you. Not now.

Christina and Taehyung appear beside your bench like a pair of deities, their presence as magnetic as it is intimidating. Up close, Taehyung’s beauty is striking—flawless skin, eyes that seem to hold secrets, and a calm that makes your pulse race. You can feel beads of sweat gathering at your temples, heat rising not just from the oven, but from the thrill of standing before this legend. “What kind of texture are you aiming for in your cookies?” he asks, his voice rich and velvety as he watches you deftly portion the orange zest dough before sliding it into the oven.

You swallow, trying to steady your voice. “I’m going for crisp on the outside, soft and sweet in the center,” you say, cheeks warming under his intense gaze. Damn it. Get it together. You silently pray the blush on your face isn’t betraying you on national TV, even with the camera zoomed in on your every move.

A sudden, familiar laugh breaks your concentration—Seokjin. You glance over, and there he is, obnoxiously close, standing at your bench as though he owns the space. His broad shoulder nudges yours, his smirk devilish. And of course, he can’t resist. With a wink at the camera, he adds, “That’s just how I like my women.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by his audacity. Is he really doing this right now? In front of the judges, in front of Taehyung? He’s hijacking your moment, stealing the spotlight you’ve worked so hard for—and making a joke at your expense. Your blood simmers.

“Go away, you jerk,” you mutter, shoving him back towards his own station, but the damage is done. You catch Taehyung and Christina exchanging glances—subtle, but there. You let out a sigh, feeling your frustration simmer just beneath the surface. Tackling Seokjin to the floor and giving him a piece of your mind sounds so tempting, but no. You rein yourself in, forcing a smile instead.

Seokjin, ever the provocateur, throws a wink at the camera and grins. “Impressed, Y/N. Not everyone can handle this much heat. Guess I’ll have to turn it up,” he says, his voice light but layered with something more. And as if to punctuate his words, you watch him out of the corner of your eye—he’s actually turning the heat on his oven higher. What on earth is he playing at? The hall feels warmer, sweat prickling your skin as the competition wears on. Is he talking about the ovens? The tension between you? Or the way he’s managed to catch up to you despite the chaos?

The cookies are nearly done, and you wipe your brow, wishing you’d made both batches at once instead of one after the other. Jin’s smugness only deepens when you realize he’s managed to bake both varieties simultaneously, and now, somehow, he’s neck-and-neck with you. Damn him.

With the final timer ringing out, you pull your cookies from the oven—golden, perfect. You carefully plate them, arranging them with precision. The judges make their way through the line of bakers, and soon it’s your turn. Walking up to the front, your heart pounds, but the praise that follows is worth every ounce of effort. Even if they’re ‘simple’ as Christina put it, the execution is flawless. You let out a quiet breath of relief, but before you can celebrate, Jungkook swoops in and steals a cookie right from Taehyung’s hand. The whole room erupts in laughter, and for a moment, the tension breaks.

Seokjin, of course, gets his perfect feedback too. Not that you’re surprised. The two of you are safe for another day, though as the announcement rings out, your heart sinks a little—Eun, one of the kind women you chatted with yesterday, is the one sent home. As she leaves, the weight of the competition presses down on you. Eight more people stand between you and victory, and among them, the one person you refuse to lose to—Seokjin.

The next two days blur together, a whirlwind of meringues and bread dough, flour dusting every surface like snow, batter splattered across your bench. Somehow, by grace or sheer luck, you’ve managed to hold your place in the competition. Now it’s the second week, day five, and the pressure is palpable—only seven of you remain, each step closer to the edge, and everyone is fighting harder, knowing the next misstep could mean elimination.

As you descend the grand staircase, the tension in the air feels heavier than before. You’re the last to arrive, the others already poised at their stations, judges watching with eagle-eyed precision. When you reach your bench, something catches your eye—a sprig of mistletoe hangs conspicuously in the center aisle, like a trap waiting to spring. You make a mental note to steer clear of that festive lure, no time for distractions, no matter how innocent.

Christina’s voice rings out, warm and inviting. “Today, you’ll be baking pies! Crisp edges, soft centers, and a filling that sings of the season.” Her smile is comforting, but Taehyung’s nod is all business, his eyes gleaming with expectation. “The filling is your choice, sweet or savory, but it must be in line with the spirit of Christmas,” he adds, his deep voice resonating in the hall like the toll of a bell.

You nod, the vision of your pie already clear in your mind—a memory-laden apple-pear lattice pie, passed down from your grandmother. The tart bite of apples softened by the sweetness of ripe pears, all tucked beneath a delicate lattice crust dusted with sugar. Nostalgia and tradition baked into every bite. You know this pie by heart—it’s your connection to the holidays, the warmth of home wrapped in pastry.

As soon as Jungkook announces the start, your hands move with purpose. You reach for the flour, the butter, the cold water—crafting the crust that will hold your memories together. Focused, you’re already mixing the dough when Jungkook’s voice cuts through the air. “Notice anything new?” he chuckles, pointing to the mistletoe overhead, “A little extra something to trip you up—or maybe bring you some luck!”

You roll your eyes, brushing off his playful tease. You didn’t come here for kisses or games. Your eyes flick to Seokjin, who’s snickering under his breath, ever the one to play along. But you push the sound of his laughter away, focus sharpening like a knife’s edge. He won’t trip you up this time—not with jokes, not with smiles. Your hands work swiftly, shaping the dough into something beautiful, knowing that every moment counts in this relentless competition.

No matter what mischief brews beneath the mistletoe, your eyes are on the prize.

As Jungkook drifts behind you, interviewing the contestants in low, animated tones, you’re relieved for the momentary quiet, allowing you to pour your full attention into the pie crust. This is where it all begins—the delicate balance between flour, butter, and water must be perfect. The crust is the foundation, the soul of the pie. You flick on the oven, feeling the heat radiate in waves, and start toward the supply table to grab a mold. But before you make it halfway down the aisle, you slam right into a solid wall of warmth. Seokjin.

“Sorry,” you mutter, trying to collect your scattered thoughts. You sidestep to go around him, but Seokjin clears his throat, and you feel the annoyance bubble up inside you. You glance up at him, your lips tight. “What?” The word slips out sharper than you intended, but your patience is wearing thin.

He doesn’t respond at first, just raises a finger to point above your heads. You follow his gaze—mistletoe. Of course. The sight drains the color from your face. The mistletoe hangs above you like a mischievous sprite, and your heart drops into your stomach. No. Not with Seokjin.

“I’m not kissing you,” you hiss, crossing your arms defensively, feeling a wave of heat rise in your cheeks. The growing number of cameramen hovering around doesn’t help. You can practically feel their lenses zooming in, capturing every moment of your horror.

Seokjin’s smirk grows, and he shrugs nonchalantly. “It’s tradition,” he says, his tone infuriatingly playful. “Don’t you believe in tradition?” His eyebrow quirks, daring you.

Damn Seokjin and his ridiculous smirk. You grit your teeth, a storm brewing in your chest. “Fine!” you snap, voice tight with frustration. With a huff, you step up onto your tiptoes, grab his annoyingly perfect face with flour-dusted hands, and plant a quick, perfunctory kiss on his lips. A fleeting touch—just enough to meet the demands of tradition, nothing more, nothing less. But the moment your lips brush against his, something stirs inside you, unbidden and unexpected. You pull away like you’ve been burned, cheeks blazing scarlet, heart racing as if you’d sprinted a mile. The cameras catch it all, zooming in on the moment—your moment with Seokjin, under the damn mistletoe. Your mother is probably watching this unfold, and you already dread the mountain of messages awaiting you back in your room. And Seokjin’s subreddit? You can only imagine the wildfire of jealousy that’ll sweep through it.

Mortified, you dart past him, heading for the pie mold like it’s the only lifeline left. Behind you, Seokjin chuckles, completely unaffected, while you feel like the floor might as well swallow you whole.

You slam the mold down on your bench, your body still buzzing with the embarrassment of it all. In a haze of frustration, you glance over at Seokjin’s bench. The idea forms before you even register what you’re doing. With a swift motion, you turn the dial on his oven a notch higher, a small, petty act of vengeance. Maybe that’ll teach him to stop messing with you.

“If you wanted me under the mistletoe, you didn’t have to bump into me, you know,” Seokjin’s voice floats over, teasing, unbothered. Before he gets back to his station, you’re already back to yours as if nothing happened.

Your fingers move automatically, rolling out the dough with steady precision despite the flutter of irritation still coursing through you. You lay the crust in the pie tin, pressing it gently into place, trying to focus on the task at hand. As you slide it into the oven for a quick pre-bake, your gaze drifts to Seokjin. He’s melting chocolate at his bench, completely at ease, while you’re still trying to get your heart to stop racing.

What the hell is he baking? You wonder, shaking your head. But whatever it is, it better not be good enough to outshine your pie.

Taehyung and Christina make their way around the room, their presence like an elegant breeze passing through the charged atmosphere. When they reach Seokjin’s station, Taehyung flashes his signature boxy smile, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. “So, what are you baking today, Seokjin?” he asks, voice smooth as velvet.

Seokjin grins, the kind of smile that holds a touch of mischief. “I’m making a Mississippi Mud Pie,” he declares proudly, his tone thick with confidence, as if he’s already envisioning the applause.

“Interesting choice,” Taehyung remarks, his eyebrow raised ever so slightly. “I hope you manage to keep that pudding silky smooth.” His words hang in the air, a challenge wrapped in playful encouragement.

Seokjin nods with a flash of determination before turning back to his task, while you continue preparing the glaze for your apples and pears, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he’s making something as bold and obnoxious as a Mississippi Mud Pie. Always grandiose, always showy. You stifle a smirk and push forward, focused on your own pie. 

With nimble fingers, you weave the lattice atop your tart, dusting it generously with chunky sugar crystals before sliding it into the oven. The warmth of baking apples and pears is already beginning to dance in the air, a comforting scent that feels like Christmas itself. You glance over just as Seokjin slides his pie into his oven, and the question tickles the back of your mind—did he even notice the temperature? 

“I thought Christmas was all about giving,” Seokjin’s voice floats over, snapping you from your thoughts. “How about giving me a break and stop staring like that?” There’s a teasing edge in his tone, and for a moment, you falter. Had you been staring? Damn it. You avert your eyes quickly, but the truth is, you’re curious to see what havoc that tampered oven might wreak on his precious pie.

Time slips by, and as you clean your station, a faint smell begins to curl through the air—something acrid, something burnt. You can’t help the small, wicked smile tugging at your lips. It’s coming from his bench.

Before you can enjoy the moment, Jungkook materializes in front of Seokjin, all wide-eyed and concerned. “Uh, Seokjin... I think your oven might be burning something.”

Seokjin waves him off with the casual arrogance of someone who never second-guesses his skills. “No, no, it’s fine,” he says confidently, but Jungkook pushes further.

“Just check it, mate.”

Finally, Seokjin opens the oven door, and a thick cloud of scorching hot air bursts forth, like an accusation made of smoke. His expression falters. “Shit!” he exclaims as he rushes to pull out the pie, his face darkening with frustration. It’s burnt—not ruined entirely, but the edges are crisped more than they should be. You bite back a laugh, wishing it had turned to charcoal.

His gaze snaps toward you, sharp and piercing, like he knows exactly who’s behind this little mishap. “Well, well,” he smirks, eyes glinting. “Looks like someone’s been naughty instead of nice, messing with my oven temperature just to throw me off.”

You blink innocently, batting your eyelashes as you offer him your best impression of sincerity. “I’m so sorry,” you say, voice dripping with faux sweetness. Both of you know the truth—it’s anything but an apology—but you can’t help but find this moment deliciously funny.

Seokjin chuckles, the sound rich and unbothered as he begins to assemble the other components of his pie. “Oh, I get it now. Sabotage me, burn my pie, and then you try to sweet-talk your way out of it?” His words are playful, but there’s an undercurrent of challenge beneath his voice.

You turn back to your own creation just in time to pull your pie from the oven, golden and perfect. The scent of apples and pears wafts toward you, warm and inviting, and you feel a surge of pride. Perfect. 

Seokjin isn’t done yet. “Nice try, though,” he says, not missing a beat. “Your little ‘sabotage’ just makes me want to beat you even more.” Then, with a glint in his eye and a smirk playing on his lips, he leans in slightly. “Maybe even taste what you’ve got cooking.”

Your breath catches for just a second, heart skipping a beat at the unexpected flirtation. Did he just say what you think he did? 

You quickly shake it off, focusing back on your flawless pie, hoping that his burnt crust might just seal his fate. But fate isn’t that kind, and as the day’s competition ends, Seokjin survives. Someone else, with a pie more disastrous than his, is sent home. You’re both safe for another day, and as you walk back to your bench, you can’t help but feel both triumphant and a little unnerved. 

This isn’t over.

It’s the third week, the seventh day, and you’re already halfway through the competition. You stand at your bench, hands clasped gently in front of you, fingertips brushing and fidgeting, a small effort to calm your jittering nerves. Why you’re nervous is beyond you—yet there it is, that flutter, pressing into your chest. 

Across the room, Taehyung, Christina, and Jungkook step up to the judges’ bench, their faces alight with matching mischievous grins. An ominous spark flickers in their eyes, and you feel a knot tighten in your stomach. Whatever’s coming won’t be easy. Jungkook claps his hands together, a low, resonant sound that carries across the hall, his eyes sweeping over each of you.

“Good morning, everyone!” he greets, his voice cheerful and commanding. “I hope you’ve all rested well, because today, you’ll be making—sourdough bread!”

The words hit you like a chill down your spine. Sourdough, of all things! Your breath catches in a gasp; you’ve made sourdough before, but never with a timer breathing down your neck. The very essence of sourdough is its patience, its slow, careful fermentation. 

Before the panic can take hold, Jungkook flashes a grin, his bunny teeth peeking out as he adds, “Luckily for you all, Taehyung has prepared a batch of sourdough starter so you can skip the fermentation process.”

Relief trickles through you, the tension easing in your shoulders. A starter made by the Kim Taehyung himself—a legendary boost if ever there was one.

“All you need to do is turn it into a flavorful bread of your own design,” Christina chimes in with her warm, encouraging smile.

Taehyung nods, his voice soft yet firm. “But don’t forget—this is a Christmas competition. Bring those holiday flavors to life.”

With the judges’ call to begin, you spring into action, finding the precious sourdough starter tucked neatly under your bench. As you run through flavor ideas, one combination settles in your mind—walnuts and cinnamon. Yes, you think, a spiced walnut bread sounds just right. Your hands move almost of their own accord, gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, oil, walnuts. You fire up the mixer, combining everything with precision, your gaze flickering momentarily to your right. Seokjin, just as focused, seems to be neck-and-neck with you. You quickly turn away, determined to keep your attention on your dough. Yet as you slide the mix out of the bowl and start kneading, a creeping dread begins to gnaw at you. The dough doesn’t feel right; instead of that soft, slightly sticky texture, it’s dense and tough, refusing to yield beneath your palms. 

Your heart skips a beat. Damn. Something’s off. You must have slipped up somewhere with the ratios. You press on, kneading harder, trying to bring life to this obstinate mass, hoping a little coaxing will do the trick. 

But then you hear a soft chuckle from beside you. Seokjin, watching with a gleam in his eye, can’t resist the jab. “I hope you’re better at making out than you are at making dough,” he quips, his tone light yet cutting. “Because, judging by that disaster, you’ll need something to make up for it.”

Your blood boils, cheeks flushed with irritation. He has no idea what kind of kiss he missed under that mistletoe, when he only got a peak. His smirk grows as he turns back to his own bread, perfectly unbothered, and you clench your teeth. If he thinks he’s seen the last of your kitchen skills, he’s in for a surprise.

Focus, you tell yourself, hands pressing into the dough with renewed intensity. If anything, his teasing will only push you to rise—just like this stubborn dough is about to.

You knead the dough with an intensity that borders on frustration, each push and twist a quiet vent for the anger bubbling beneath the surface. The dough yields under your hands as you work it harder, almost punching it into shape. Suddenly, Jungkook appears by your bench, his brows furrowed as he takes in your struggle.

“Trouble?” he asks softly, voice edged with concern. You’re too caught up, too irritated to even answer, so you only grunt in response, lifting the stubborn dough and shoving it back into the mixer. A splash of water might save it, you hope, and you watch the machine turn, willing it to obey.

Jungkook and the camera crew linger a moment longer, their lenses capturing every sigh and furrowed brow, then slowly drift down the line toward Seokjin. The camera’s absence leaves a little more space to breathe, but as you finally check the dough, your heart sinks. It’s too sticky now, clinging uncomfortably to your fingers, almost mocking your efforts. Damn it. 

With no time to start over, you grab the flour, dusting it like a lifeline as you fold and press, trying to bring it back from the brink. Gradually, with each turn of the dough, it begins to take on the consistency you need. Relief washes over you as you shape it, finally, into the pan and slip it into the oven. You bend and arch your back to set it carefully on the rack, breathing out a sigh, satisfied at last.  

“Damn, Y/N—if you’re trying to turn me on, you’re doing a better job than the oven right now.” Seokjin’s voice floats from your right, low and casual, but with a playful glint.

Your mouth drops open before you can stop it, caught off guard as his words settle over you. Did he really just make a sexual comment about my body—right here, on national TV? Anger mixes with embarrassment, but with the cameras still lurking, you only manage a scowl and a sharp roll of your eyes. He grins in response, clearly enjoying your reaction.

When the oven timer finally dings, you take a steadying breath and pull the bread from the heat. It’s risen beautifully, with a golden crust that promises all the flavor and fluff you’d hoped for. But the moment you start to slice into it, dread tugs at you. The knife cuts clean through with too much resistance—too easily. You pull the loaf apart, and your stomach drops. No airy holes, no soft webbing—just a dense, compact mass. 

Damn it all. 

Your heart sinks as you stare at the thick slice, the reality settling in.

Fuck.

You let the knife slip from your fingers, a dull clatter as it meets the tabletop, and you sink to the floor, unable to hold back the weight that’s been pressing on you all day. Tears blur your vision, slipping down your cheeks as silent sobs shake you, and you curse the cameras that have flocked to capture every moment of your breaking. You hate that they’re filming this—that you’ve sacrificed an entire December, each day on display, competing beside someone you’d rather avoid. 

Just then, a gentle hand rests on your back, tracing soft, steady circles that ease the storm a little. Surprised, you look up to see Seokjin crouched beside you, his face soft with a kindness you didn’t expect.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, his gaze moving from your dismal bread to meet your tear-streaked face. “I’m sure it still tastes good. And remember—that’s what matters most.”

You blink up at him, catching his eyes for what feels like the first time. Have they always been this warm, this deep? Rich shades of caramel that seem to melt right through you, gentle but somehow grounding. Your chest tightens as something new stirs, fragile and unfamiliar, even as you brush the tears from your cheeks. He doesn’t crack a joke, doesn’t tease, just holds you there in the quiet of his presence.

Your heart hitches, and you take a deep, unsteady breath. He’s right. Taste is what matters most, you tell yourself, though you know the truth—that texture, that mouthfeel, plays an equal role. But he seems so sure, and you let that comfort settle in for a moment before he gives you a last reassuring nod and returns to his station. You rise, still shaken, hoping someone else fumbled more than you did. In the end, it’s Leah who leaves, but that close call leaves a tremor in your chest that keeps you restless long after the day ends.

Sleep evades you that night, leaving you tossing beneath the weight of everything that happened. You can’t stop replaying that disaster on national TV, the sourdough fiasco, your tears on display. Dread tightens your stomach, the idea of what Instagram or Reddit might be saying about your meltdown twisting your mind in knots. You don’t want to know what people think, how foolish you looked. And then there’s Seokjin, adding to the confusion.

You’ve been avoiding him ever since that kiss under the mistletoe, as fleeting as it was. His lips were warm, soft as clouds, and that one moment had left you breathless. And yesterday, instead of pushing you with his usual banter, he was gentle, almost... tender. It’s left your heart skipping, the memory of his face, his touch, stirring something unnamed and unsettling.

Is he just being nice, or is there something more? Don’t be ridiculous, you tell yourself. Maybe this is just his tactic, trying to throw you off your game, to make you lose your focus so he can swoop in and claim victory. But as you lie there in the dark, his kindness replays over and over, leaving you uncertain. Something’s shifting inside you, something you can’t quite grasp yet—and whatever it is, you can’t afford to acknowledge it now. Not when you still have a competition to win. 

Exhausted but determined, you stand at your bench on this eighth day of the competition, avoiding even a glance in Seokjin’s direction. Just the thought of him, of how good he must look, sends your stomach into a whirl.

“Boy, have we got something special for you today!” Jungkook announces, his grin wide and electric. Taehyung chuckles, adding, “It’s team challenge day!”

Your heart sinks. You’ve dreaded this day since the start, hoping for the luck of a decent partner, as you had in past seasons. But as the names are read off, fate delivers the unexpected.

“You and Seokjin,” Christina calls, her voice carrying a mischievous note as your eyes meet Seokjin’s. There he stands, dark hair framing a face that’s far too perfect. He smiles, and your heartbeat quickens, rebelling against every ounce of sense you’re trying to hold on to.

“Do you want to know what you’ll be making today?” Christina beams.

The room’s voices echo in eager agreement—all except yours. You’re rooted to the spot, standing close enough to feel the warmth radiating from Seokjin’s shoulder, aware of every traitorous thump of your heart.

“You’ll be making gingerbread houses!” Taehyung laughs, a spark of holiday pride lighting up his face. “We can’t wait to see your creativity—and bring that warm, familiar taste of home to life.”

The start bell chimes, and you and Seokjin exchange a nod before quickly settling on your plan: simple but elegant. As he dives into mixing the dough, you turn your focus to the sugar glaze and icings, choosing Christmas colors—red, green, and white. You work side by side, silent but close, the unspoken tension filling every touch and glance. Whenever your shoulders brush, heat flares up your neck, and you can only hope the cameras don’t catch it.

Then, in a moment of calculated ease, he leans in close, his shoulder pressing against yours. “See, I don’t need mistletoe to get you right where I want you,” he murmurs, voice low and warm.

You’re not sure if he’s talking about the gingerbread or something else entirely, but your cheeks flush, and the world narrows down to the steady beat of your pulse. Words escape you, leaving you flustered, almost dizzy, as you help him press the dough into shape, trying desperately to calm the storm he’s stirring within you.

He turns his head just enough to lean closer, his breath warm against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending an electric shiver down your spine. His voice, low and edged with something you can’t quite decipher, murmurs, “I can’t tell if this tension is from the competition… or just from you being this close.”

A hard swallow catches in your throat, and suddenly the room feels far too warm. Damn him for making you lose focus like this.

You manage to cut the dough into its final shapes, sliding them into the oven to bake. As they brown, you check on the icing, spooning through the white, glossy peaks to make sure it’s the right consistency.

“What do you think of this texture?” you ask, holding the spoon high as the icing drips, thick and slow.

His gaze lingers on you for a fraction too long. “Thick and creamy, just how we like it,” he replies, a smirk pulling at his lips. A wink flashes your way, and your face flushes hot. Thick and creamy. You banish the unbidden images forming in your mind, inwardly scolding yourself to get back on track.

When the cookies finish baking, you and Seokjin move in tandem, retrieving the trays and setting the cookies on racks to cool. Golden brown and perfectly crisp, they gleam in the warm light. “They look perfect,” you say, smiling, and Seokjin nods in agreement, arranging the pieces with careful precision.

With the cooling underway, he whips up a fresh batch of icing, the new bowl of white peaks tempting you. “Mind if I taste it?” you ask, reaching toward the bowl. “Just to make sure the sugar’s balanced?”

He raises an eyebrow, offering the spoon. “Go ahead,” he murmurs, tone laced with mischief. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you if you find yourself craving more.”

The suggestion hangs heavy in the air, and your pulse races, a current of anticipation tightening your chest. You take a taste, licking the spoon, but a little too quickly; icing slips over your lip and trails down your chin.

His eyes darken as he watches. “I must say,” he says softly, his smile curling with intrigue, “you look pretty with liquid dripping down your chin.”

Your cheeks burn, and something inside you clenches unexpectedly. The heat rising within you is almost too much to bear, and for a second, all you want to do is escape his gaze, escape this overwhelming feeling—run, hide, anything. But no, you won’t back down now. Not today.

Why the fuck are you getting turned on right now?

You shove your dirty thoughts aside, convincing yourself he couldn’t have meant anything suggestive. This is the competition, after all—focus. You set to icing the cookies, carefully piping along the edges as Seokjin holds each piece of the gingerbread house steady.

“You’ve got a real talent with that icing…” he murmurs, voice thick with suggestion. He raises an eyebrow, that mischievous glint in his eyes. “Want to see how good I am at licking it off?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and your voice escapes in a half-choked laugh, “No!” Yet you’re left wondering—did he really mean just the cookies? Your heart races, and by now, you must be as red as a ripe apple.

Seokjin leans in, his shoulder brushing yours, eyes glinting playfully. “Better let me handle this,” he whispers, “unless… you’d rather things get a bit messy.”

The closeness is dizzying, and a startled cough escapes you just as Jungkook wanders over, asking if you’re alright. You manage a nod, praying for the day to end so you can escape this charged atmosphere, your flustered nerves, and his honey-laced teasing.

You glance up to find Seokjin’s gaze locked on you, his eyes dark and glinting. “Keep looking at me like that,” he murmurs low, “and I might just let you have a taste of my frosting.”

A jolt shivers down your spine, heat pooling in your cheeks—and elsewhere, much to your horror. You exhale shakily, fingers trembling as you finish icing the final wall of the gingerbread house, praying for the cameras to cut so you can flee.

Finally, the house stands complete, a festive masterpiece that brings a surge of pride and relief. With a quiet thank-you to the heavens that you’ve made it through the day, you’re spared elimination. The moment filming ends, you bolt from the hall, the steady beat of your heart pounding like a drum in your ears.

Reaching your room, you swing the door open, craving solitude. But just as you go to close it, a hand stops the door, and a familiar foot wedges into the gap, preventing your escape. Seokjin appears in the doorway, his presence filling the room as he nudges the door open. You turn, surprised, meeting his gaze as he scans your face, concern softening his eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice low and gentle, and you catch a hint of genuine worry. 

“Y-yeah,” you manage, feeling your pulse skip. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing you both in this moment. He steps forward, his gaze drifting around your room, but you instinctively retreat until the edge of the bed presses against the backs of your legs. Caught between him and your own mounting desire, you feel strangely exhilarated, breaths uneven as anticipation rushes through you.

“You just seem…” His voice trails off as he draws nearer, his eyes tracing your features, “a bit… out of sorts.”

You swallow, trying to steady yourself, but his intuition sees right through you. “I’m… I—” You start to speak, but words falter. Say the truth, or shield it?

His eyes narrow slightly, his voice dipping into a whisper. “You’re a little… wet, aren’t you?” The question drips with suggestion, and heat floods your cheeks. Your breath catches, and he smiles knowingly—Seokjin has never been one to miss a tell. 

He’s so close now, his scent, warm and intoxicating, fills your senses. His lashes flutter as he leans in, and for a breathless second, your eyes lock. Without thought, driven by the longing pounding in your chest, you reach for his face, pulling him down to meet you in a kiss that’s anything but tentative. It’s intense, melting away whatever barriers you held, a wordless confession pressed from your lips to his. You lean into him, drawn, tethered by an undeniable need.

When you finally part, his dark eyes are fixed on you, filled with astonished heat. “Princess,” he murmurs, voice husky, “do you really want this?” He searches your face, looking for any hint of hesitation.

“I do,” you whisper, your voice raw with desire, “I don’t know why… but I need you, right now.” Your own need sounds urgent in the quiet of the room, and his gaze flickers, a grin tugging at his lips as he pulls you close once more. 

You pull him close, kissing him deeply, wanting nothing more than to feel him everywhere, his warmth mingling with yours. Your hands trace the lines of his body, and he lets out a soft, knowing chuckle. “Well, princess is in a rush,” he murmurs, a teasing smile playing on his lips. You can’t help but giggle—he’s always had that look, one that riles and draws you in. His beauty, so effortless, had once made him feel like a thorn in your side. His charms seemed unfair, his confidence so maddening. But now, in his arms, all of that melts away; there’s no room for anything but this want, this anticipation.

“Call me that again,” you say, breathless. “I like it.”

“Princess,” he breathes, voice low and laced with desire. Your hands glide lower, feeling him pressed against you, hard and wanting. You bite your lip as you savor his reaction, and he smirks, lifting a hand to brush your cheek, before leaning close to press a kiss on your forehead, soft and unexpectedly tender.

“Let me taste your cream,” he whispers, eyes dark with mischief and longing.

A laugh bubbles up from you. “Really, Seokjin? Is that your best line?”

He chuckles, his gaze unwavering. “I’m serious. I’ve wanted you since we set foot in this castle.”

The admission catches you off-guard, your heart skipping as you meet his gaze, feeling that familiar, disarming warmth. “Wait… Since the start of the competition?”

He shakes his head, voice dipping to a whisper. “No. Since the moment I first saw you.”

His eyes, rich with longing, hold you captive. Corny as it is, it’s so him, and there’s something so undeniably real in the way he looks at you that you’re left breathless. 

“You mean it?” you murmur, still stunned, but unable to resist his pull.

He answers only by lowering you back onto the bed, his touch gentle, yet urgent, and you sink into the softness beneath, wondering if somehow, in his presence, everything feels warmer, softer, more alive.

Seokjin gazes down at you, his eyes twinkling with that familiar, infuriating smirk. “Oh, I know you’ve felt this too. The way you look at me says it all.”

Your lips curl in defiance, though your pulse betrays you, hammering under his gaze. “I looked because I thought you were ridiculous—and infuriating,” you murmur, heart skipping as he leans closer, closing the last sliver of space. 

“Yet here we are, and still… you want me,” he breathes, his words brushing your lips just before they meet. His kiss is deep, a slow surrender, and you moan softly, hands curling over his broad shoulders as though anchoring him there. Your kiss is hungry, desperate, as though he might vanish, and when he pulls back, you laugh breathlessly, “Yes, alright, I want you—even if you’ve been an ass.”

He grins, all smug satisfaction. “I do have a good ass, and so do you might I add.” His gaze glints mischievously as he traces a line down your body, catching the edge of your pants and slipping them down your legs. “Let’s take a proper look, shall we?”

The fabric slides away, leaving you in a sliver of lace. He inhales sharply, admiring the delicate pink, and you can feel his gaze linger as he teases, “Pretty soaked for someone who’s supposedly annoyed with me.” His hand hovers, like he’s savoring the moment, his voice low. “What would I find, I wonder?” 

Breathless, you lift your hips, letting him pull the last barrier away. His smile softens as he takes you in. “Oh, princess,” he murmurs, voice thick with appreciation, “you’re glistening. Like a rare gem.”

Heat pools in your cheeks, heart pounding at his words. No one’s ever looked at you like this, and he senses your shy retreat, gently catching your arm before you can shield your face. “Don’t hide from me now,” he whispers, pressing a warm kiss to your wrist. “It’s just you being beautiful. Let me see you.”

Then he’s there, lips trailing down the sensitive skin of your thighs, leaving a fire in their wake. You feel your body hum in anticipation, every nerve aware, waiting.

“Don’t tease me,” you murmur, fingers threading into his soft hair, tugging gently. 

He looks up, a satisfied glint in his eye, the corner of his lips lifting. “Oh, but I’m going to. Because this moment, with you… I want to savor it.”

Slowly, he draws closer, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin, his gaze heavy with intention. The first ghost of his lips on your pussy sends a shiver through you, drawing out a helpless moan. Instinctively, you arch toward him, craving more, but his hands are there, steadying your hips, holding you in place with gentle strength.

Then, his mouth descends, and the first touch of his tongue on your clit sends you spiraling. He moves with a softness and rhythm that leaves you breathless, and when he begins to press his tongue in slow, unyielding circles, a molten heat spreads through you, curling your toes. Each movement feels like a practiced art, his mouth relentless as he savors you, tasting every bit of your arousal with unhurried devotion. The pressure builds inside you, your breaths quickening, pulse pounding.

Your fingers clench in his hair as you gasp, “God, I’m already so close… How are you this good?”

He says nothing, only hums in response, and the low vibration nearly sends you over the edge. He keeps working, drinking you in, savoring every quiver and moan that slips from your lips. You can feel yourself cresting, a torrent of sensation washing over you as you tighten your grip, and he knows—you’re almost there, and he’s right there with you, groaning in satisfaction as he tastes every pulse of pleasure.

The release is all-consuming, a rush that lifts you, dizzies you, blurs the edges of the world. You’re floating, flying, a haze of pure sensation that fades only when you’re utterly spent.

You meet his gaze, dazed, and whisper, “Let me taste you too.” He smiles, standing to pull down his pants and underwear, and you sit up, eyes widening as he’s revealed, long and thick, every inch of him somehow as beautiful as the rest. You slide to your knees, your palms pressing into his hips as you look up at him, your lips parting. With one hand, you wrap around him, earning a sharp hiss as you bring your mouth to him. You start with the barest of kisses at his tip, savoring the salt and warmth of him, a hum of pleasure escaping your lips. His moan deepens, and you smile, swirling your tongue over him with languid strokes, focusing on every place that draws out his breaths and soft curses.

His eyes darken, his breathing growing ragged, and you feel the tension between you deepen, pulsing in rhythm with every touch. You want to make him feel everything he just gave you, and as you lose yourself in the rhythm, you know that the night is only beginning.

He’s breathless now, each exhale a shiver against your skin as you take him deeper, letting his pleasure guide your every move. His fingers rest in your hair, gentle but firm, grounding him as he struggles to hold back a moan. His voice is rough, ragged as he stutters, “Engh—princess…so good with that tongue.”

You glance up, catching his gaze, and hold it with a mischievous spark. In that moment, you give him a slow, deep pull that has his eyes fluttering shut, a strangled groan slipping free. Encouraged, your hand finds its way to his balls, caressing, and you revel in every new sound he makes—each one sending warmth surging through you, building your own need.

But just as he seems ready to let go, he stills your movements, framing your cheeks with both hands as he catches his breath. His thumb traces your skin, his eyes darkened with desire, and he breathes, “You’re incredible, princess, but…I need to be inside you.” 

He hesitates, a flash of frustration crossing his face. “I don’t have a condom—do you?”

You pull back, a glistening thread connecting you for a moment before you smile, whispering, “It’s okay. I’m on birth control, and I’m clean.” A small laugh escapes you as you add, “Besides, this wasn’t exactly on my itinerary for tonight.”

Relief softens his features, and he runs a hand through his hair, tousling it further as he laughs with you. “Same here. And I’m clean too.” Then, without another word, he gently lifts the hem of your shirt, tugging it up until it catches briefly in your hair, pulling you both into a shared, breathless laugh as it’s tossed to the floor.

For a moment, he just gazes at you, taking in every curve, every rise and fall of your breath. His hands slide behind you, unhooking your bra, and as it slips away, his gaze drinks you in. “You’re…beautiful,” he murmurs, voice soft with reverence, as though seeing you like this has stripped him of words.

You arch into him, and he cups you, his hands warm and reverent, kneading your skin with a tenderness that has your heart thudding. His fingers trace slow, teasing lines down to the soft, sensitive peaks, barely grazing them, sending delicious shivers racing through you. A moan slips past your lips, urging him on, and you feel his lips close over one, hot and soft, his tongue swirling in ways that leave you trembling. He alternates, his other hand grazing, then gently pinching, teasing out sparks of pleasure that arch through your body.

“Jin—oh god, it’s…” you gasp, but words fail as his mouth closes over your other peak, his hand tenderly attending to the first, each touch adding fuel to the fire raging between you.

He lifts his head, lips parting with a quiet sound as he whispers, “Good?”

“More than good,” you breathe, feeling yourself melt under his touch.

You teeter on the edge of bliss, so close it’s dizzying—but just as you reach for it, he pulls away. A fleeting pout crosses your face, only to be replaced by awe as he sheds his shirt, and god, he looks like a masterpiece. The warm glow of his skin, rich and golden, calls to you; the strong line of his shoulders tapering down to his narrow waist, and below that, his cock—full, hard, and yours to claim. The thought alone makes your pulse race. Every bit of him leaves you breathless, and suddenly, there’s nothing you want more than to feel all of him.

He leans over, guiding you down, covering you in gentle, feverish kisses that send giggles tumbling out between your sighs. His body presses against yours, skin to skin, his dick grazing against your thigh, and your pussy throbs in answer, sending shivers radiating out from your core.

“I want you, Jin,” you whisper, offering yourself to him, fully and freely.

“Oh, I want you too, princess,” he murmurs back, the words a caress against your collarbone as he trails his lips up to your cheek. Slowly, he guides himself to your entrance, positioning himself carefully. His voice softens, “Ready?”

You bite your lip and nod, heart pounding, as he begins to ease into you. You feel every inch as he stretches you, filling you so deeply that it borders on overwhelming. You hadn’t prepared yourself, a detail you remember only now, and for a moment, you squeeze your eyes shut. He pauses, his brow furrowing in concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asks gently, searching your face.

You chuckle, half-apologetic, “I forgot to prep. It’s…been a while, but keep going.” Despite his hesitation, you nod reassuringly, opening yourself to him fully. He holds your gaze for a heartbeat, and with a final glance for confirmation, he presses deeper, sliding into you with a controlled tenderness. The ache as he stretches you only heightens the pleasure, a sensation that grounds you in the here and now, and you find yourself craving even more, wanting him to lose himself with you.

“You’re so tight,” he rasps, still pressing in, his breathing labored.

A shaky laugh escapes you. “I did say it’s been a while. You’re so big—I think you’re almost splitting me in two.”

A chuckle slips from his lips as he strains to control himself, stilling inside you. “Oh? Now you’re joking?” he asks, amusement lighting his eyes.

“Maybe a little,” you whisper, breathless, “but it does feel incredible.” 

Finally, he’s fully seated within you, filling you completely. He takes a moment, his breathing uneven as he absorbs the sensation, and then he begins to move, a slow, intoxicating rhythm that has you clutching at his shoulders. Each glide ignites sparks that streak down your spine, stars already dancing before your eyes. Your toes curl, and that familiar knot tightens low in your stomach, winding tighter with every thrust, unraveling your senses until you’re completely, blissfully lost in him.

His whispered, “Fuck,” is thick with pleasure, a low groan as beads of sweat glisten on his forehead, catching the dim light. He hovers over you, breath warm against your skin, hands planted firmly on either side of your head, grounding you in his intensity. He moves slowly at first, each thrust deliberate, unhurried, yet powerful, the rhythm coaxing cries of pleasure from deep within you as his body presses into yours.

“Seokjin,” you pant, voice trembling, each syllable tangled with need.

“Princess,” he echoes, a rough murmur that makes your body pulse in response, clenching around him. He falters, groaning at the sensation, and his eyes darken as he slides his hand beneath your thigh, lifting it to rest over his shoulder. The change is immediate; he fills you even deeper, his movements reaching an intensity that makes every nerve sing. The new angle has you gasping, clinging to him as he strikes that perfect spot, driving you toward the edge with relentless precision.

“Right there!” you cry, vision spotting, as he picks up the pace, his breaths sharp and stuttering. Your whole body is alight, toes curling, heart pounding, the pleasure mounting too quickly to contain. He grins as he watches your desperation, his hand dipping between you to find your swollen clit, fingers circling and pressing, amplifying every sensation. You’re drenched, his fingers slipping over you easily, driving you higher as your breath hitches, your body shuddering, head thrown back as the climax crashes over you. His name escapes your lips, a cry filled with release, as you feel yourself clench tight around him.

You open your eyes to his face, gorgeous and utterly captivated, his gaze locked onto you, stunned and transfixed. “You…damn, that was beautiful,” he rasps, still circling your sensitive flesh as your body trembles in the aftermath. His own body tightens, breaths quickening, and he leans closer, groaning your name as he thrusts deep, finding his own release. A final shudder ripples through him, and he lets out a sound of your name you’ll remember, deep and raw, filling you with warmth.

As he pulls back, breath heavy, he reaches to sweep a damp hand through his hair. “That…that was amazing,” he murmurs, grinning, his face flushed and bright.

You can’t help but smile back, a quiet chuckle escaping, “I agree.”

“Let me get you cleaned up,” he whispers, tenderly withdrawing as he reaches for a cloth, gentle as his hands linger. You lie there, chest heaving, slowly returning from the edge, the two of you savoring the haze of satisfaction between you. You’d just shared something unforgettable with Seokjin, the man you once called an enemy—but now, that feels like another lifetime away.

Morning’s first light glows softly against the frost-covered castle walls as you step outside with a steaming cup of tea, hoping the chill might clear your mind. The steam from your cup swirls like a small, fleeting cloud in the crisp winter air, mingling with your breath as you stroll along the snow-dusted path. Massive evergreens stand cloaked in fresh powder, their branches heavy with snow, while the castle behind you sparkles with delicate strands of Christmas lights that flicker with a nostalgic warmth. The decor, the quiet beauty—it all fills the air with a festive, dreamy charm.

You wrap your hands tighter around the cup, its warmth spreading into your palms as your thoughts drift back to last night. Seokjin had come to your room, and the memories of the intensity between you still linger, bringing a flush to your cheeks. You can’t help the way your stomach flutters when you remember his touch, the way he melted through every wall you’d built around yourself. There’s no denying it anymore—you like him. Maybe you always have. Maybe all that tension you held against him was just your heart speaking the only way it knew how, because acknowledging these feelings felt too risky. But now it feels even messier. What are you supposed to do with this, with him, here, in the midst of a competition where every moment counts?

Lost in thought, you don’t even hear footsteps approaching until a familiar voice murmurs behind you, “Having regrets?”

You turn, surprised, and meet Seokjin’s steady gaze. He’s watching you intently, something unreadable in his expression, but the glint in his eyes makes your heart skip. Regrets? Not a chance. “No… Never,” you say honestly, the answer flowing out of you without a second thought. The surprise in his face softens, and he steps closer, his brow furrowing as he studies you.

“Then what’s on your mind?” he asks, voice low as if he’s afraid to break the quiet between you.

You hesitate, blowing gently on your tea as you gather your words. “I… like you. I like you a lot. But I don’t know what that means here, now, while we’re both still in this competition. I just don’t want to mess things up.”

Seokjin nods, a small, understanding smile spreading across his lips. “Well, I like you too,” he says simply, and his sincerity warms you even more than the tea in your hands. “We don’t have to make it complicated. Why don’t we just take things as they come? Let’s be in this moment, here together, and not let it get in the way of anything.”

You consider his words and feel a sense of ease settle over you. His simplicity, his kindness—they’re exactly what you need. “That sounds perfect,” you whisper, heart lightening.

He grins, reaching forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad,” he murmurs, and the moment feels as close to magical as the glittering snow around you.

For a while, you simply stand there together, absorbing the quiet. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft but determined. “I’d better go in and get ready for the semi-finals. Coming?”

You nod, catching one last look at the snowy landscape before following him, feeling strangely certain that whatever happens, this memory, this moment with him, is yours to keep.

Inside the grand, echoing hall, the atmosphere thrums with anticipation—third week and it’s the semi-finals, and only four contestants remain. It’s another sourdough challenge, and the thought knots your stomach; but this time, you feel armed with everything you’ve learned, determined to redeem yourself from the last round’s missteps. You’ve reviewed every ratio, every technique, certain you won’t make the same mistakes twice.

Across the room, Seokjin catches your eye, flashing a small wink your way that sends warmth rushing to your cheeks. You look down quickly, hoping the cameras miss your blush. You can already imagine the uproar if anyone notices the subtle shifts between you and Seokjin. His fans would be livid, and part of you shivers at the thought. But another part is thrilled—glowing, even—that his glance lingers on you alone.

Taehyung’s voice cuts through the quiet as he announces the start. You reach for your premade starter, blending it with flour, water, salt, and crushed walnuts. A familiar recipe—but this time, perfected. As the machine kneads, you steal a glance at Seokjin, working at his own station. He looks over and smirks, nodding to the dough in your hands. “If you keep kneading it like that,” he murmurs with a glint of amusement, “I might have to admit I’m a little jealous of it.”

Your cheeks flush deeper, and you stifle a laugh, hoping the cameraman didn’t catch the exchange. You’ll knead him later, if he’s lucky. The thought amuses you, and you bury your smile, adjusting your focus as you work the dough in your hands until it reaches that perfect, silken elasticity.

Moving through the contestants, Jungkook stops by Seokjin. “That’s a beautiful dough,” he says, nodding approvingly.

Seokjin grins, a mischievous spark in his eye. “Thanks. I know this is a baking competition, but you can stop flouring me with compliments every time.”

Jungkook’s laugh echoes through the hall, and the room feels warmer somehow, each exchange brimming with camaraderie and friendly rivalry. You cover your dough to let it rest, feeling a swell of satisfaction as the texture is just right. Wiping down your station, you shift your focus to the next challenge—cupcakes, of course, because the semi-finals wouldn’t be complete without multiple recipes in one day.

You dive into the batter, drawing on the festive mood with a blend of cinnamon and shredded carrot for a Christmas touch, and creamy frosting chilled in the fridge, each detail meticulously planned. Into the oven go the cupcake molds, filling the hall with a warm, spiced aroma, blending with the yeasty scent of sourdough proofing.

Across the bench, Seokjin is working with a similar quickness, his gaze drifting to you with a gentle intensity that you can’t help but return. As you work side by side, sharing the small glances that carry more meaning than words, you feel a strange harmony, both within yourself and with him. You’re in the competition—but in these moments, everything feels like a rhythm, an unspoken bond both fierce and gentle, pushing you toward something extraordinary.

In goes the frosting to chill, waiting patiently in its piping bag, and now it’s back to the sourdough. You uncover the dough, marveling at its perfect rise, feeling a surge of confidence and—well, maybe a touch of mischief. Glancing over at Seokjin, you call out, voice low and playful, “You know, the only thing that should be rising faster than this dough is the tension between us.”

He lets out a deep, warm laugh, a sound that wraps around you and settles deep in your stomach, stirring something close to admiration—maybe even more. “Touché, Y/N!” he grins, pulling the cloth from his own dough with a wink. “Though, this dough isn’t the only thing that’s rising around here…” His words hang in the air as your mouth falls open. You give him a quick look, half-worried he’s serious, but you don’t find him popping a boner and instead find him grinning, reveling in his joke. The mischievous glint in his eye is impossible to resist, and you can’t help but laugh, enjoying the banter you two have woven between the flour and dough.

Focused, you place your dough on a baking tray, score a precise line along the length with a sharp knife, dust it lightly with flour, and slide it into the oven alongside your baking cupcakes. You’re quick to pull them out once they’re golden and perfect, setting them on a rack to cool as time dwindles. The kitchen hums with activity, everyone moving at a near-frantic pace, yet somehow you feel steady with Seokjin beside you. You glance at the clock—just fifteen minutes remain. The bread has to finish, and the cupcakes still need their frosting. Seokjin catches your anxious glance and gives you a reassuring smile, dashing to the fridge for his frosting. His calm steadiness eases the pulse of worry in your chest, and you follow suit, gathering your frosting bag and applying smooth, swirled peaks to each cupcake, finishing them with a sprinkle of walnuts.

As you pull your sourdough from the oven, the loaf is everything you hoped for—golden, hearty, the cut expanding beautifully along its edge. With a sense of quiet pride, you plate everything just in time, arranging the warm, rustic loaf and delicately frosted cupcakes into a small but satisfying spread. Relief washes over you when the round ends without either you or Seokjin being eliminated—though the victory feels bittersweet as Kevin packs up his station.

Exhausted but exhilarated, you and Seokjin retreat to your room to unwind, sharing stories and laughter until words give way to the kind of silence only the two of you can understand. And as the evening stretches on, he leaves you breathless in new ways, your bond deepening with every heartbeat shared between laughter and tantalizing touch.

With each passing day since the competition began winding down, you and Seokjin have become tangled in each other’s warmth, his presence as comforting as the scent of baked bread. But today—today is the final. Just the two of you remain, locked in a dance of rivalry and something deeper, unspoken. It’s week four, and the pressure sits heavy in your chest. You’re here to win, driven as ever—but some part of you almost wants him to take the victory, too. How strange, this tug of ambition and affection, both pushing you forward and grounding you at once.

The vast hall feels somehow larger with only two stations now, each of you taking your place under the blinding lights. Cameras linger, catching every nervous inhale, every flicker of emotion, and you steel yourself as Christina addresses you, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “Today is the finale, and we can’t wait to see what you’ll make. We’re asking you to prepare three distinct Christmas desserts.”

Your heart skips a beat. This isn’t just any bake—it’s a final act, a moment to define the entire journey. Taehyung steps forward with his trademark grin, “You’ll be baking the same desserts, so we can judge them side by side. They are: a chocolate raspberry roulade, a traditional Christmas pudding trifle, and finally, profiteroles.” 

Profiteroles. You feel a pang of dread—choux pastry, your nemesis. But there’s no time to overthink it. You exhale deeply, eyes darting to Seokjin, who meets your gaze with a soft, reassuring smile, and you offer one back, letting that silent exchange ground you. Whoever wins, it won’t be for lack of trying.

“Bake!” Taehyung shouts, clapping his hands, and the clock starts ticking. You dive in, gathering ingredients, organizing every move in your mind like a well-choreographed routine. Pudding layers, roulade filling—everything goes into the fridge and blast chiller to set, and you work swiftly, feeling beads of sweat prickling on your brow. Seokjin keeps pace beside you, and you can’t help but catch the gentle gleam of his focus. As you fumble with a pat of stubborn butter, Seokjin’s voice lilts beside you, “You think you’re so tough, but I bet you’d melt faster than butter in my kitchen.” His teasing catches you off guard, and you laugh, cheeks flushed, just as a cameraman swoops in to capture the moment.

Then, a murmur fills the hall—a door opens, and suddenly a chorus of voices drifts through. You pause, glancing up, and your heart stumbles as you see them: your mother, sister, nieces, and nephews, all holding balloons, flags and waving, their faces beaming. Behind them, an older couple you recognize from photos as Seokjin’s parents stand with pride lighting up their faces. More familiar faces follow—the eliminated contestants, cheering, their hands clapping, adding an electric energy to the air.

The crowd reminds you of what brought you here and what’s at stake, and it fills you with a quiet determination. It’s down to the two of you, and you intend to give it everything, heart and soul, even if it’s the final push in more ways than one.

“Welcome, everyone!” Jungkook calls out, his voice brimming with excitement. “We’ve prepared seating just over here, so you can sit, relax, and enjoy watching the grand finale.”

Your heart pounds as the realization settles in—you’d forgotten about this moment, the pressure of having every pair of eyes on you in the throes of your work. You’ve never reached the finale before, and the weight of the audience—family, friends, past contestants—is suddenly heavy, a slight quiver of doubt creeping into your hands. But before you can spiral, Seokjin darts over to your bench, leaning close enough for his warmth to steady you. “Take it easy,” he murmurs, his voice a balm to your nerves. “You’re doing great. But who would’ve thought baking with you could feel this... intense? Not that I’m complaining—I’ve always liked a challenge.” He throws you a wink before returning to his station, leaving you with a small, fluttering smile. Seokjin’s usual banter never fails to ground you, even if he’s technically still the competition, both of you eyeing that coveted trophy and the hundred-thousand-dollar prize. A part of you can’t help but think, though, that he’s won enough already—why should he get this one too?

Returning to your tasks, you finish mixing the batter and pour it onto a tray, sliding it into the oven just as the judges approach, their expressions curious and bright. “How’s it going, Y/N?” Taehyung asks, his familiar warmth and calm demeanor making you smile despite your nerves. “Pretty good,” you answer, focusing on the profiteroles. “I just need to pipe the choux and bake it, and then it’s on to assembly. Just hoping to finally beat Seokjin for once,” you add with a sheepish laugh. It’s no secret—he’s always been the one to catch, and your admiration, even begrudging, is genuine.

“Think I’m playing hard to get, do you?” Seokjin’s voice calls out from his station, his tone teasing, playful, earning a burst of laughter from the audience. “Princess, I’m just giving you a taste of what’s coming.” At the word ‘princess,’ your breath hitches, a warm flush creeping over your cheeks. You chance a look toward him, and his eyes meet yours, a mischievous glint dancing in them. Thankfully, no one else seems to catch the slip, and you focus back on your profiteroles, steadying your hands and your thoughts.

As you start piping the choux, you toss a look back his way. “Well, Seokjin, I’ll have you know I’ve got a secret ingredient in my roulade this time—I’m feeling pretty good about taking first place.” 

He chuckles, your exchange laced with that familiar, easy banter you’ve shared a thousand times, though now it simmers with something deeper, something unspoken. “Oh, a secret ingredient, huh? Cute,” he replies, amusement thick in his voice. “But I already know your weakness, princess…,” he pauses for effect, the words rich with mischief as he slides his profiteroles into the oven. “Me.” 

The words strike a chord you weren’t prepared for, and your hands still, feeling exposed as his eyes flicker with a knowing gleam. He’s right—damn it, he’s right. He is your weakness, more than you’re ready to admit.

“For someone who talks a big game, you sure seem distracted by me,” he laughs, returning to his work. The sound pulls you back to reality, and you move to your next step, hoping the blush has faded enough to go unnoticed. Glancing toward the crowd, you catch sight of your mom’s watchful eyes, and you can only pray that neither she nor the cameras caught the moment.

You slide the roulade from the oven, transferring it to cool on a fresh tray, each step a carefully orchestrated dance of urgency and precision. Raspberries glisten in their bowl, their color vivid against the creamy filling you grab from the fridge, and you can’t help but smile—chocolate and raspberry, a classic match. I hope it’s perfect, you think as you roll the delicate sponge, sealing it with care before tucking it away in the fridge.

The hours slip by in fragments, your family’s cheers a soft echo at the edges of your concentration. Nearly everything is done: the roulade chilled, the profiteroles cooling on the tray, the trifle assembly is next with a bit of hope and a dash of doubt. You’re so close. You portion the trifle into gleaming glasses, slipping them into the fridge, then temper the final swirl of chocolate for your profiteroles, adding a whisper of orange zest for flair. Each element comes together like pieces in a puzzle, one you hope will capture the hearts of the judges.

Finally, you and Seokjin finish almost in sync, both of your creations plated to perfection. The judges, standing at their table with anticipation, gesture for you to present your roulade first, then Seokjin’s. Side by side, your roulades look like echoes of each other—his, perhaps a bit more precise, but the judges praise the flavors of yours, and you breathe a little easier. When it comes time to present the trifles, nerves flutter in your chest. Pudding has always been your challenge, and it shows. Taehyung’s gentle apology about its grainy texture confirms what you feared, and you nod, feeling the sting despite the kindness in his voice. It’s not over yet, though. The final moment comes down to the profiteroles. Watching the judges savor each bite, their expressions inscrutable, feels like holding your breath underwater. Did you get the texture just right? Are the flavors enough? You can’t tell if they favor yours or Seokjin’s, but the judges step back to confer, and the wait stretches on. Seokjin catches your eye, and the slight squeeze of his hand around yours is like a wordless reminder: Whatever happens, you made it this far. The audience hushes as the judges return, smiles lighting their faces.

“Seokjin is the winner,” they announce, and the room erupts in cheers, the joy swelling around you even as your heart sinks. You give a soft smile, watching as his family rushes to his side, while yours gathers around you, their hugs and warmth softening the ache of coming so close.

Taehyung clears his throat, addressing the crowd. “Honestly, Y/N, it was such small details that set you apart—mostly the pudding texture and the choux consistency.” You nod, grateful for the explanation even as disappointment lingers, a reminder of how hard you tried to make this win your own.

As your mom wraps you in a warm embrace, she whispers, “It’s alright—second place is still something to be proud of,” her voice gentle but consoling. You can’t help the small eye roll, even as you know her heart’s in the right place.

Suddenly, there’s a familiar arm around your waist, steady and reassuring. Seokjin pulls you close, leaning his head onto your shoulder before pressing a tender kiss to your neck. “How are you feeling, princess?” he murmurs, voice low and meant just for you. 

But the entire room seems to freeze. Conversations fade, and a hush spreads as everyone looks on, your mom’s jaw slack in surprise, cameras hovering so close they might capture the racing pulse at your throat.

You let out a breath, half-laughing as you shrug. “Honestly… a bit deflated,” you admit, feeling his warmth steadying you, “but I’ll survive.” You lean into his embrace, letting it soften the lingering ache of the moment.

Then he turns you toward him, his gaze intent, before he kisses you—fully, deeply, with a confidence that leaves you breathless. A soft sigh escapes, and you can hear whispers ripple through the room, a wave of disbelief from everyone watching. They had no idea that this quiet affection had been growing in secret all this time.

Seokjin pulls back, his eyes shining as he holds your gaze. “It’s okay. You can beat me next year,” he teases, a hint of laughter in his voice.

You pout, rolling your eyes with playful sass. “Oh, I plan on beating your ass next year,” you reply, certain and unflinching.

He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you again. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, his words a soft thrill against your lips. Then he pulls back, a sudden tenderness in his expression. “But… there’s something I want to ask you first.”

Curious, you tilt your head, waiting. “How would you feel about going on a date with me and spending Christmas together? Maybe somewhere special—a resort in the mountains, all-inclusive?” His words tumble out, eager, a little nervous.

“Trying to buy my love, are you?” you tease, grinning as you hear your sister muttering behind you, “Go! It’s all-inclusive!”

Seokjin stammers, his eyes widening in flustered surprise. “What? No, princess, I just—” 

You press your hands against his chest, silencing him with a soft smile. “I’m joking. Yes, I’d love to. To date you, officially. And spend Christmas with you. I like you. Might even love you a little,” you add, pinching your fingers close to show just a little, even though you know it’s more than that.

The smile that lights up his face is nothing short of radiant. His arms tighten around your waist, and he lifts you, spinning you in an impromptu waltz that has you laughing breathlessly as he plants a quick kiss on your forehead. “This is going to be the best Christmas ever,” he says, his voice low and thrilled against your ear, his warmth filling you from head to toe. You hum in agreement, already lost in the certainty of it.

Seokjin may have claimed the trophy, but with him by your side, you know you’ve won something even better. And as the room erupts in applause, you realize this Christmas will be the start of something unforgettable.

→ Taglist: @back2bluesidex @yoontaethings @ktownshizzle @closer-to-jungkook @tea4sykes @myspi2010 @luaxjin @dazzlingjade @lachimolalajeon @agustverse @mrs-ksj @nora12379 @joonsmagicshop @ajoonniice

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→ Author’s endnote: what did you think??? Please let me know. This one was so fun to write and I laughed multiple times. I hope you had fun reading too 🥰

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[glossykissies]

i would love to know more about the mean! linecook!scott au, like how did you first meet him?

so i’m thinking classic sunshine x grumpy trope, scott is the head linecook but also pretty much runs that kitchen like the military because he thinks everyone else is too incompetent to do so. he sees you bumbling in as the new girl, all excitable like a puppy and clumsy on your feet and thinks great, just another person i need to accustom to the ways of my kitchen. she is pretty cute, but that’s besides the point.

you even try and make it a point to introduce yourself to him, nearly walking smack bang into his chest as he towers over you, staring at you analytically as he snaps his gum at the back of his teeth. your manager said no gum was allowed in the kitchen, but you guess this scott guy does what he wants.

“oh! nearly ran into you, i’m sorry!” you grin, holding your hand out for him to shake. he stares at it, then back at you as you happily introduce yourself retracting your hand. “i’m new here if you hadn’t noticed. pretty nervous but everyone seems really nice so far, i’m kind of a people person so i think chatting to customers will be fun to be honest. i know people say you get bored of doing that kind of thing but i’ve always liked it. i’m a yapper. it’s kind of my thing! you’re not talking.” you cut your ramble short with a nervous swallow and he slowly raises his hand, placing it on your arm and gently moving you to the side.

“you’re in front of my work station.” he responds bluntly and your face falls a little.

“right! that’s my bad.” you nod, and surprisingly he turns his huge body to face you. seriously, he was so tall he made the kitchen feel smaller. scott digs in his back pocket for a moment before pulling out a small, seemingly new notepad with a pen wedged into the side and presses it firmly into your palm.

“this is yours. waitresses are meant to bring their own but i know you didn’t. you lose it, you gotta remember everyone’s orders. we don’t do taking orders on your phones notes app, it looks juvenile. so don’t lose it. on fridays we serve hot plates so wear long sleeves, you’ll be carrying a lot on your arms and you don’t wanna burn yourself. you drop those plates because they are hot, i’ll be pissed. when you come into the kitchen you walk straight through behind whoever is infront of you to the designated station, you take the food and then walk around the back and out that door. you hang around, or reverse back on yourself you could walk into someone and drop the plate. won’t be happy about that. you drop something, you clear it up. you spill something, you wipe it up — and if someone out there yells at you…” he pauses finally, softening his firm tone only a tiny bit. “you tell me. alright?” he starts chewing again, raising his eyebrows impatiently for you to respond.

“yes sir. i mean, just— yes.”

“good. go sign in.” he nods his head dismissively, turning back to his station and you scurry off to mark yourself as present on the register.

“that scott guy is scary. i think he hates me.” you whisper to an older waitress, a girl around 10 years your senior who’d been working at the restaurant for a while. she scoffs, a look on her face like she knows something that you don’t.

“s’the most we’ve ever seen scotty-boy talk. he likes you.” she reassures before striding off to work. you turn your head, twiddling your new pen in hand as you go to look at him, and he’s already barking orders at his team. wouldn’t hurt to get on his good side.

[maxdibert]

I love it when Snaters say things like, “Hey, don’t get so worked up because I called Snape a homophobe with zero basis or said he’s a sexual predator or used the name ‘Snivellus.’ It’s just fandom; we’re just having fun, even if it happens to be true that the only character we bash and trash all the time is him. Stop taking it so seriously—it’s all for fun!”

Well, by that same logic, I can find it absolutely hilarious to reply to all their crappy posts by calling them classist, victim-blaming, body-shaming hypocrites. I have a blast watching them cry when someone shoves in their face how cringe they are for playing at being social justice warriors but only when beauty privilege is involved.

Or is it only they who get to have fun?

[chelseaknoo]

25 days with Eminem

Eminem x reader

Day 3

The next day, the house was cozy and warm, the glow of the fireplace casting a soft light across the living room. You, Hailie, and Alaina were curled up on the couch, watching a holiday baking competition on TV. Jackie was happily rolling around in his baby walker, occasionally pausing to smack at the toys attached to it or let out a squeal of excitement whenever the contestants on TV got too loud.

"Did you see that gingerbread house?" Hailie said, her eyes wide as she pointed at the screen. "How do they even get the roof to stay up? Every time I try, mine just collapses."

"You’ve got to use royal icing," Alaina replied confidently, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "It’s like glue for cookies. But you have to let it dry between steps, or yeah, it’ll fall apart."

You nodded, glancing from the screen to Jackie, who had just rolled himself up to Alaina’s feet. “Maybe we should try one with Jackie next year when he’s a little older. We could make a whole village together.”

Hailie smiled, leaning down to tickle Jackie’s cheek. “He’d love that. Though I think he’d eat more of the decorations than he’d put on the house.”

Jackie giggled, smacking his tiny hand against the walker, as if he knew he was the center of attention.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs, followed by the sound of voices. Marshall and Stevie appeared, bundled up in their coats and scarves, looking ready to take on the cold night air.

“Alright, we’re heading out,” Marshall announced, clapping his hands together. “Time to get those Christmas decorations up before we run out of time.”

“Wait, what?” Hailie said, sitting up straighter. “You’re going out *now*? It’s freezing!”

“Exactly why we need to do it tonight,” Stevie added, pulling on her gloves. “The forecast says it’s going to snow heavier tomorrow, and we won’t be able to see the roof if we wait any longer.”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing at the clock. “It’s already 8 p.m. Are you sure you want to do this now?”

Marshall shrugged, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “No time like the present. Besides, we’ll warm up once we get moving. Right, Stevie?”

“Right,” Stevie said with a grin. “Plus, if we wait until tomorrow, we’ll just have to shovel snow first. I’m not about that life.”

Alaina laughed, shaking her head. “You two are crazy. But hey, if you’re determined, more power to you. Just don’t fall off the roof or something.”

Marshall gave her a playful salute. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this under control.” He turned to you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss on the forehead. “We’ll be back in a bit. Don’t let Jackie stay up too late.”

“You’re seriously going out in the freezing cold to hang lights?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “What happened to relaxing by the fire and enjoying a quiet night?”

Marshall grinned. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, it’s tradition. Stevie and I used to do this every year when she was a kid.”

Hailie rolled her eyes, wrapping a blanket tighter around herself. “Well, you guys can have fun with that. I’ll stay here, where it’s warm and cozy.”

“Same,” Alaina chimed in. “But if you need help untangling lights or something, don’t call me.”

You chuckled. “Be careful out there. And Marshall, try not to go overboard.”

“Overboard? Me?” he teased, pretending to be offended. “I’m the king of moderation.”

Stevie snorted. “Yeah, right. You have two whole tubs of lights in the garage.”

Marshall shrugged. “Details, details. Just wait. It’s going to be the most beautiful house on the block.”

As they headed toward the front door, Jackie let out a loud babble, waving his little hands in the air as if he wanted to go with them.

“Oh, no you don’t, little guy,” you said, scooping him up out of his walker. “You’re staying right here with us. Daddy and Stevie can handle the cold.”

Jackie responded with a giggle, snuggling into your arms.

“Alright, we’re off!” Marshall called out, opening the door. The cold air rushed in, making you shiver.

“Good luck!” Alaina called from the couch. “Don’t forget to take pictures when it’s done!”

“And don’t freeze to death!” Hailie added, laughing.

“We’ll be fine,” Stevie assured them, stepping outside. “See you in a bit!”

The door closed behind them, and you could hear their muffled laughter as they headed toward the garage.

You looked down at Jackie, who was now content in your lap. “Looks like it’s just us girls tonight, huh?”

Hailie smiled, turning her attention back to the TV. “More cookies for us.”

“And more hot chocolate,” Alaina said, raising her mug.

You settled back into the couch, pulling a blanket over Jackie and yourself. Despite the cold outside, the warmth of the house, the laughter, and the sense of family made everything feel perfect. Even if Marshall and Stevie were out there braving the chill, it was all part of what made this Christmas so special.

-

Outside, the crisp winter air bit at Marshall and Stevie’s faces as they stood in the front yard, surveying the mountain of Christmas decorations they had just hauled out of the garage. Lights, inflatable figures, and extension cords were scattered across the snow-covered lawn, waiting to be set up. The stars twinkled above them, and their breath hung in the cold air like clouds.

"Alright, Stevie," Marshall said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Let's get this show on the road."

Stevie pulled her scarf tighter around her neck and smirked. "You sure you can handle this, old man? I don’t want to be the one calling Mom, telling her you threw your back out or something."

Marshall raised an eyebrow, grinning. "Old man? Please. I’ve been doing this since before you were born. I can handle a few lights."

Stevie chuckled, shaking her head. “Okay, but just so you know, I’m not pulling you off the roof if you get stuck.”

"Deal," Marshall replied, grabbing a bundle of lights. “But I’m calling you out if you tangle these wires.”

They both laughed as they began unraveling the first set of lights. The festive energy was contagious, and despite the freezing temperature, they were determined to make the house the most dazzling on the block.

"I’ll start with the roof," Marshall said, pulling out the ladder. “You handle the bushes and the walkway.”

"Got it,” Stevie said, grabbing another set of lights. “Try not to fall.”

"Ha, ha," Marshall muttered, positioning the ladder against the house. He climbed up carefully, gripping the cold metal rungs tightly. The wind picked up slightly, making the climb more challenging, but he wasn’t about to let Stevie see him falter.

Stevie watched him ascend, wrapping a string of lights around one of the bushes. “Dad, maybe we should wait until tomorrow. It’s kind of icy…”

“Nah,” Marshall said, waving her off. “We’ve got this. Besides, the house won’t decorate itself.”

Stevie sighed but continued with her task. The first few minutes went smoothly. Marshall managed to hook several strands of lights along the roofline, and Stevie had the walkway glowing in red and green.

"How’s it looking down there?" Marshall called from above.

"Not bad," Stevie replied, stepping back to admire her work. "But I think your snowman lights are crooked."

Marshall frowned, peering down at the decorations. "They look fine from up here."

"Trust me, they’re leaning," Stevie teased.

"Fine, I’ll fix them later," Marshall grumbled, shaking his head. He shifted his weight to reach a higher part of the roof, but as he leaned over, the ladder wobbled beneath him.

“Whoa!” he yelped, gripping the edge of the roof to steady himself.

"Dad!" Stevie dropped the lights and ran over. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Marshall muttered, trying to shake it off. "The ladder just…uh…slipped a little."

“A little?” Stevie raised an eyebrow. “You almost took a dive into the bushes.”

Marshall chuckled nervously. “I’m fine. Just—uh—hold the bottom of the ladder for me, will you?”

Stevie rolled her eyes but complied. “You owe me hot chocolate for this.”

“Deal,” Marshall said, climbing back up.

He continued working, but the night was getting colder, and the icy surface wasn’t making things any easier. As he stretched to place the last string of lights, his foot slipped on a patch of ice.

Marshall lost his footing and fell backward, tumbling off the roof into a pile of snow.

"Dad!" Stevie shouted, rushing over to him.

Marshall groaned, sitting up slowly. "I’m fine... just... landed on my pride."

Stevie smirked. "Told you it was icy. You’re lucky you landed in snow."

“Yeah, yeah,” Marshall muttered, dusting himself off. “Let’s just finish this before I break something.”

As they continued working, the mishaps kept coming. Wires got tangled, extension cords wouldn’t reach, and one of the inflatable reindeer ended up with a deflated head.

“Why is this so much harder than I remember?” Marshall grumbled, fighting with a particularly stubborn set of lights.

“Because we’re doing it in the dark, freezing cold, and you’re trying to rush,” Stevie replied, tugging on another strand. “Oh, and your ‘old man’ reflexes don’t help.”

Marshall shot her a playful glare. “Keep it up, and you’re on roof duty next year.”

Stevie laughed. “Deal. If you survive tonight.”

Finally, Marshall grabbed the last extension cord and plugged it into the main outlet. “Alright, Stevie. This is it. Flip the switch.”

Stevie grinned, moving toward the switch box. “Ready for the grand reveal?”

Marshall nodded. “Do it!”

Stevie threw the switch—and everything went dark.

The entire house, along with the yard, went pitch black.

"Uh... what just happened?" Marshall asked, blinking in the sudden darkness.

"I think... you just cut the power to the house," Stevie said, her voice filled with disbelief.

Marshall groaned, running a hand down his face. "Seriously? I just wanted the lights on, not a blackout!"

Stevie laughed despite herself. "Congratulations, Dad. You’ve officially turned Christmas decorating into a disaster movie."

Marshall sighed, rubbing his hands together to stay warm. “Alright. Let’s go inside and face the music before your sisters roast me alive.”

As they headed toward the door, Marshall glanced at Stevie. “You know… we’ll laugh about this later.”

Stevie smirked. “Oh, I’m already laughing.”

-

Inside the house, everything was peaceful until, without warning, the lights flickered and went out, plunging the room into darkness. The soft hum of the TV silenced, leaving only the crackling of the fireplace.

“Wait... what just happened?” Hailie asked, her voice tense.

Alaina sat up, clutching the blanket tighter. “Did the power just go out? It’s pitch black!”

You shifted Jackie in your lap, his tiny body tense with confusion. “Yeah... one second we were watching TV, and now—”

Suddenly, Jackie’s lower lip trembled, and a loud wail escaped from him. His little hands clung to your sweater, and he kicked his legs in protest.

“Oh no, baby, it’s okay,” you cooed, rocking him gently. “It’s just the lights, sweetie. Mommy’s here.”

But Jackie wasn’t having it. His cries grew louder, echoing in the dark room.

“Why did this happen?” Hailie asked, her voice rising in panic. “The storm isn’t even that bad yet!”

Alaina stood, her silhouette barely visible in the faint glow of the fireplace. “Maybe it’s the whole neighborhood? I’ll check outside.”

“No, don’t go outside yet,” you said, bouncing Jackie on your lap. “Let’s wait for Marshall and Stevie. They might know what’s going on.”

Hailie exhaled sharply. “What if something serious happened? Like... what if the power box caught fire or something?”

“Calm down,” Alaina said, trying to sound reassuring but sounding more nervous than she intended. “It’s probably just a tripped breaker or something.”

Jackie’s cries continued, his tiny voice breaking through the tension. You kissed the top of his head, trying to soothe him. “Shh, baby, it’s okay. Mommy’s got you.”

“I’ll grab my phone for a flashlight,” Hailie said, fumbling around the couch. The faint beam from her phone lit up the room just enough for them to see each other’s worried faces.

“There!” Hailie shined the light toward the door. “But where are they? They’ve been out there for a while.”

“Marshall’s probably fine,” you said, even though your heart was racing. “You know how he is. He’s probably out there joking about this already.”

Alaina tried to laugh but failed. “Yeah, well, if he doesn’t come in soon, I’m going to lose it. I hate sudden blackouts.”

“Same,” Hailie muttered. “And now Jackie’s upset too.” She bent down to Jackie, tickling his feet gently. “Hey, little man, don’t cry. Daddy will get the lights back on.”

Jackie’s cries slowed for a moment, but the second the wind howled outside, rattling the windows, he started wailing again.

“Oh my God, this feels like a horror movie,” Alaina whispered.

You laughed nervously, adjusting Jackie’s pacifier. “Let’s not go there. We’ve got enough chaos without thinking about that.”

Suddenly, you heard faint footsteps on the porch, followed by the muffled sound of Marshall’s voice.

“They’re back!” Hailie exclaimed, racing to the door.

The door creaked open, and Marshall’s face appeared, illuminated by Stevie’s flashlight. His beanie was slightly crooked, and snow clung to his jacket.

“Don’t worry, we’re alive,” Marshall said, stepping inside and brushing off the snow.

“Barely,” Stevie added with a grin. “We had a little... uh... incident.”

“What happened?” you asked, standing up with Jackie in your arms. His crying turned into soft whimpers when he saw his dad.

Marshall sighed, running a hand over his face. “Let’s just say, the Christmas lights won that round. We might’ve blown the power for the entire house.”

“You what?” Alaina stared at him, wide-eyed.

“It was an accident!” Stevie interjected, clearly trying not to laugh. “Dad plugged in the lights, and everything just... went dark.”

“I knew it!” Hailie threw her hands up. “I said something like this would happen!”

Marshall shrugged, looking sheepish. “It’s not my fault the power box can’t handle a little holiday spirit.”

Jackie gurgled softly, reaching out his chubby arms toward Marshall. “At least someone’s happy to see me,” Marshall said, taking Jackie from you. “Hey, little guy. I’m sorry about the lights.”

“Marshall,” you said, crossing your arms. “You had one job. ONE job.”

Marshall chuckled. “I’ll fix it, I promise. Just let me warm up first.”

“You better,” Alaina teased. “Otherwise, we’re decorating in candlelight.”

“I’m on it,” Marshall said, bouncing Jackie. “But first, hot chocolate. Because clearly, I’ve earned it.”

Stevie rolled her eyes. “And maybe a new power box while you’re at it.”

Just as Marshall was about to head toward the kitchen, a sudden hum filled the air, followed by a bright flash as the lights flickered back on. The room was bathed in warm light again, and everyone froze for a second, blinking in disbelief.

“They’re back!” Hailie shouted, throwing her arms up in relief.

Alaina let out a long breath. “Finally. I was two seconds away from having a breakdown.”

You shook your head, smiling. “I can’t believe it. I thought we’d be in the dark all night.”

“Guess the house forgave me,” Marshall said with a smirk, cradling Jackie, who had finally stopped crying and was now curiously looking around.

“Or maybe the house decided to give you one last chance,” Stevie teased, punching Marshall lightly on the shoulder.

“I’ll take it,” Marshall said, grinning.

Everyone gathered back in the living room, relieved and laughing about the chaos. The fire crackled, the warmth of the house returned, and the faint sound of Christmas music played softly from the speakers. Jackie yawned in Marshall’s arms, finally content.

As you all settled back into the cozy atmosphere, sipping on hot chocolate and reflecting on the night, the house felt peaceful again. But outside, the wind began to pick up, whispering through the trees and sending snowflakes swirling against the windows.

Little did they know, the storm tomorrow would be much worse.

[featherlight-touches]

Bath time

Alhaitham/Kaveh/Cyno/Tighnari

a/n: hello hello! I had this little idea saved in my drafts when I was writing for some 4ggravate so I thought I might as well upload it. I hope you enjoy!

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

Having a bath together sounded like such a peaceful occasion when suggested; a chance to relax and wash the stress away from the busy day had.

Kaveh had been the one to suggest it, and he, Cyno and Tighnari were gratefully sat in the steaming hot bath, the warm water soothing their aching muscles. Alhaitham had decided to partake in his own way, insisting there was not enough room in the bathtub for all four of them, so elected to sit close by.

Kaveh was displeased.

“Would you stop being anti-social and get in here?” he called from the tub to Alhaitham who sat in a chair that he had brought into their bathroom. “There is plenty of room, see? - Cyno move over!” the sound of Cyno grunting was heard when shoved by Kaveh.

“That tub was not designed to have four grown men in it at once. It would be impractical to try and squeeze all of us in and annoying. I’m honestly surprised it’s holding up with you three in there.”

Kaveh groaned in annoyance at Alhaitham’s lack of cooperation then turned his back to him. “Fine, be that way. We will just relax without you, won’t we?” his question was directed to Cyno and Tighnari. Cyno, who was curiously grabbing at the bubbles that filled their water and Tighnari who was cleaning his tail. “I said, won’t we?”  

“Huh?” Cyno and Tighnari asked in unison, clearly not paying attention to anything other than their own activities, which forced a sigh out of Kaveh.

“Oh, forget it.”

“If you say so,” Cyno, who now had a magnificent beard made from the pretty bubbles, leaned back against his side of the tub. Tighnari snorted at the sight of the beard when his attention was diverted from his tail.

“Would you like some help with that, Tighnari?” Kaveh asked, gesturing to the forest ranger’s tail. Tighnari smiled gratefully before returning his attention to cleaning it himself.

“I appreciate the offer, but it’s fine. I’m almost done, and I like to do it in a specific way anyway,” Kaveh watched to see what specific way he was talking about, not noting anything too out of the ordinary.

“You’re going to have to clue us in on this specific way one day, you know?” Cyno piped in. “Might be helpful to know in the future.”

“I can’t take you seriously with your face covered in bubbles, Cyno.”

“Would you say it’s because I’m such a bubbly pers-”

“Stop.”

Kaveh laughed, not at the joke, but just their interaction alone. Tighnari really had a lack of patience for Cyno’s jokes, and it was always amusing to witness.  He watched as Cyno grinned, filled with mischief as his hand started moving under the water towards Tighnari.

“You see, because my current beard is made out of bubbles, and some people are said to have bubbly personalities.” Cyno’s hand contacted its target, because a startled yelp was heard from Tighnari, who began to kick his leg, the water moving frantically in the tub.

“Cynohoho!” Tighnari laughed, trying to full his foot away from Cyno’s fingers, but because of the lack of room, he found himself unable to move far.

“See? It’s funny, right? You’re laughing,” Cyno’s smug voice said over Tighnari’s laughter.

“No! Let gohoho!” he pleaded, lifting his foot out of the water and pulling it closer to himself. Cyno chuckled as he halted his playful antics.

Kaveh watched them in amusement before something caught his attention. “Huh. You know, I often forget you have paw pads on the bottoms of your feet, Tighnari.”

“Some partner, you are.” Alhaitham commented, witnessing all the fun from afar.

“You! Shush!” Kaveh growled. “Only those who are in the tub are allowed to comment.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then I might as well just leave.” Alhaitham stood up from his chair, on his way to leave the bathroom.

“No!” Kaveh protested, his voice coming out as pouty as he watched his partner leave. “Please don’t go, stay with us.”

Alhaitham huffed at his childish change in attitude and returned to his seat, but Kaveh could’ve sworn he saw a small grin on the scribe’s lips.

“In his defence, I don’t really have my feet on display very often,” Tighnari explained. “So, it’s easy to forget.”  

“Yeah, see Alhaitham? Doubt my relationship skills, will you. Hmph.” Kaveh rested his arms on the edge of the tub proudly, despite there being nothing to be proud of.

Cyno decided to switch targets in that moment, and his hand journeyed under the water to Kaveh’s side, which was left nice and vulnerable from his seated position.

Kaveh squealed, all proudness drained in an instant as it was replaced with forced laughter. “Hehehey!”

He tried to pull away, but Cyno’s other hand joined at his side which only intensified the tickling sensations. Kaveh found himself squirming and laughing at Cyno’s mercy, something he was not expecting during this bath session.

Tighnari lowered his ears as Kaveh’s laughter echoed throughout the room, usually a lovely sound for him to hear, but it’s a little loud of the fox’s ears as the sound bounces off the bathroom walls. He smiled through it, though. He was happy to endure a little discomfort in favor of hearing his partners laugh.

He decided to help Kaveh out and lunged his hands at Cyno’s sides while he was busy tickling the architect. Cyno gasped at the contact and immediately withdrew his hands in attempt to spare himself from Tighnari’s wrath.

However, as soon as Kaveh was spared he joined Tighnari in tickling the General, who eventually gave in to his forced laughter.

“Mercy!” He pleaded through his laughs, his bubble beard falling from his face and the bath water splashing everywhere.

“I thought this was supposed to be a relaxing experience?” Alhaitham commented again from his seat, witnessing the events taking place in the tub, but it went unheard under all the laughs from his beloved partners.

Alhaitham sighed, They completely missed the point of this whole thing, but he wouldn’t have them any other way.

[suikung]

Hiiii Tomorrow is my birthday, yea so can you please write a smut with hidan(Naruto) about birthday sex!? (hear me out w the song omg)

Can be forced or r*pe if you're in the mood:p

(well I got lost in your writings since I've read that one which was a gangbang w Akatsuki's 5 members 😭)

Hidan is severely underrated! Been waiting for a proper Hidan request for a while. Also happy belated! Hope this is an adequate gift. Does the lay out of the village make sense? No. Do I care? No.

He’d been watching for a while. God it pained him so much he’s never been a man of patience. But Jashin told him this would be the one, the ultimate gift to Hidan for such devote loyalty, a virgin. So he had to wait around for your birthday, of course Lord Jashin knew nothing would please him more than receiving you on your birthday. So there he was. Now a week since Jashin had given him the orders to observe you and familiarize with your schedule. Such a boring person you were, you weren’t a ninja so there was no real purpose to your life. Running mundane errands and workings 4 out of the 7 days at a barbecue place. Either way, tomorrow would be the day Hidan would be allowed to have you all to himself and he could only thank Lord Jashin for having such a good eye for beauties.

Something was brewing this particular day. Even though it was your birthday, the air felt ominous. Dark clouds rolled in above the mountains of the village. Hopefully the rain would begin after you made it home from your shift but truly this day didn’t seem it would be good to you. As it stands, once the last five minutes of your shift began rain began to pour down from the heavens. This wasn’t rain this was literal bullets coming down. The poor plants outside of your job were flattened by the sheer amount of it and you only knew your path home was flooded.

Things never came easy when it came to living in a valley. Snow? Path blocked. Rain? Path blocked. Which is why now you’d have to take the forest trail slightly above the village to avoid flooded streets.

Hidan had been watching from the minute you’d left for your home. Seriously he had to watch you for days to know your schedule just for you to take a different route? Hidan was not a patient person and he’d be sure to have you apologize for this later, for wasting his time and deliberately making him do extra work. Whatever he’d just make himself comfortable while waiting for you in your home.

A slippery path it was to your home, but at last you could see your small home. Knowing full well it was just you living there there was a strange feeling upon entering. You weren’t stupid, a small look around and you could see small mud tracks at the front of the door. No time was spared as a cold blade made contact with your throat. “One sound babe and you’re done.” However it was seemed… amused? His words were said as if he had a maniacal smile across his face. “Close the door.” He left you in a weird position, move and turn around and he might think you’re running away. Speak up and tell him about it he might slice off your head. After a few seconds you could only think to kick it closed.

Hands up in defeat, he seemed to inch the blade just a fraction away from your skin. “Just take what you want.” It was amusing to him, he seemed as if he was about to faint from laughter. “Oh please I don’t want none of your ugly things. I’m here for you baby. I’m just here to give you the best birthday gift you could ask for and at the same time get the gift I was promised.” His scythe came down and with one motion your jacket and undergarments were cut down the middle. Anyone would have with instinct to cover up with their hands but his scythe still lay parallel to your body, leaving no room to hide your bare skin. “Lord Jashin was right, this will be fun. Now I think we should take this back to somewhere we can relax what do you say? Lead me to your room baby. I’m evil but not a monster, I won’t take you here.” Ha what a gentlemen he was. The dull curve of his blade wrapped around your back pushing you from the door. With no other choice you led him to your room.

Rain pattered against the house, seeming to increase with every minute. “Lay down. And take off the rest of your clothes for me.” While you discarded the remaining pieces of your upper clothes, Hidan shrugged off his cloak to reveal a bare chest and silver pendant. A budge in his pants was visible even in this low light of only the moon since your bed was right next to the window. Now you could see his face clearer, a maniacal smile just as you’d pictured followed by silver slick back hair. Burning his face into memory so if you came out of this alive you’d report him to every official you could. Your village was small but you lived in a great nation and knew of the Akatsuki’s recent actions and the imagery they were linked with, the red cloud on his cloak corroborated the information you already had. “Admiring what you’re about to have? Let’s put a name on this face yeah. It’s Hidan, don’t wear it out tonight.” Did this idiot think this was anything enjoyable for you.

His eyes were plastered onto your body, just like a wolf watching their prey before attacking. “Get closer to the edge.” A pointed baton now replaced where he held his scythe. Pointing it at you while he waited for you to reach him at the end of the bed. Hidan was no stranger to pain and tonight he’d ensure you both got a well dose of it. The bed was low to the floor, so at the edge you leveled out with his groin. Inched himself closer, he positioned the baton with the dip of your back, the sharp tip brushing over your back. It was a silent order. Trembling hands came to undress him, revealing a half hardened cock. The release and cold air seemed to excite him even more as it hardened. A few seconds of contemplation, if this was really the reality you were living or if at any moment you’d wake after falling asleep in the back room at work. The tip dug into your back, “Don’t be shy.” A cold hand wrapped around it. God he wanted to rip you up they you were just dry tugging it. His hand came down to guide yours, using his precum from the tip to lubricate the rest of it. “Do it right or I’ll kill you.” Hidan was direct, don’t try to ruin what he’d be waiting for.

All one could hope for was smooth sailing from here. Hand gaining warmth as you worked your way up and down his shaft. He could practically see the stars, it had been a while since he last had any sort of relief and a hand other than his own was enough to make a man moan. And he did. Hidan was incredibly vocal, never missing a beat when you glided over the vein on the underside of his cock, he needed more. His free hand came to the back of your head pushing you forward, the pointed tip pressed into you with just a hint of higher pressure. He didn’t want resistance so all you could do was make his tip at home in your mouth. Hand pumping the shaft, tongue circling his tip. “For a bitch being raped you sure do it as if you wanted to.” His words cut deep, after trying to repress them you couldn’t help the tears that fell. Tears of anger and sadness mixed in with tears of him bucking himself deeper down your throat. It only got better for him every second, he could feel the tension growing in his stomach. His pelvis practically touching your face, tears pouring down, Hidan couldn’t asked for a more perfect way to finish. But he could. Nothing would be complete without a little pain in the mix. His baton pierced the skin of your back, your teeth clenched around his tip. “Fuck!” The sensation of your teeth practically suffocating his tip was enough for him to spill himself into you. It was as if someone had spilled pure salt into your mouth, the taste making you gag. He noticed pulling himself out, hand squishing your lips together, “Swallow it. Don’t waste a fuck drop or we will start over until you swallow it all.” How more degraded could he make you feel? Feeling the gulp, he let go of your face.

He only needed to do a small preparation before he could fuck you properly. “Get off.” Once you were off the bed, using the same baton he pierced his hand and began to draw the same symbol on his necklace onto the bed with his own blood. The symbol was drawn on the bottom part of the bed where Hidan would position himself. You got back up with the command of his hand directing you where to lay down. Without warning he dug his baton into your thigh coating it now in your blood. Your scream rushed all the blood to his cock, hardening it up for the next round.

Licking it clean, his skin now turned into a skeletal pattern. Heart pounding against your ears. “Don’t do this please. Just let me go.” You killed him, such a funny thing you were. “Of course not. You were promised to me and I promised myself to give you an unforgettable present.” The baton was placed to the side, hands grabbing your waist pulling you flat down on the bed. The sheets rubbed against the open wound on your back causing your body to tense. With one hand he easily parted your legs revealing what he’d been waiting for. He wasted no time parting your folds and positioning himself. “Take it all.” In one breath he pummeled himself into you, breaking the hymen. An unnatural sounding scream ripped from the deepest part of your body. A pain so severe you could’ve been cut in half and it wouldn’t have measured up to this. He felt it too, while you screamed in pain, he moaned out in pleasure.

His cock was coating itself with more and more blood with every thrust. Blood acted as the lubricate seeing he couldn’t be bothered thinking about foreplay for you. He wiped your tears as he bottomed out. Pulling all the way out just to slam himself all the way in. Every movement ripped a scream out of you. It was all he had been wanting. He needed more. He grabbed the baton from his side handing it to you. “Stab me. Wherever you want but do it. Don’t be scared I know you want to.” Was this a trick? It couldn’t be this man was insane. Shaky hands aimed from his abdomen driving the baton straight above his belly button. Quickly letting go of it when you felt a hot pain in the same area. “Fuck… again.” Both of you now adorned the same bleeding wound. “No… no.” Pleas fell on death ears and he continued to thrust and place the baton into your hand. “Now grab it and do it again bitch.” Only thinking that perhaps a meater part of the body wouldn’t hurt as much you drove it into his thigh. No matter what you were practically on the verge of fainting.

Lifting your leg up he licked the blood dripping from your thigh as he continued to drilling himself into you. Blood from his abdomen dripped down to his groin mixing with yours. Baton again placed to the side he used his free hand to grip your neck. Not enough to fully restrict your breathing but enough the sides of his fingers were actively bruising your skin, and his in turn. “You’ve been a perfect bitch. Fuck I’m gonna cum inside you and give you your birthday present.” The pain, the blood he couldn’t hold it any longer. Closing his hand fully against your neck, you clawed at his arm. Your airways were completely restricted, whole body tensing up including your vaginal walls. He sped up, “Happy birthday.” With that he pushed himself as deep as he could into you. Cum coating your cervix. After a few seconds his grip let up on your neck.

“And this is for you Lord Jashin.” Seconds after he pulled himself out, he drove the baton through your stomach. Coughing up blood, you could see him smiling. “I hope you didn’t think I’d let you live. After all I have to thank Lord Jashin for this wonderful gift.”

[acupofinkedblood]

Skateboard x reader [Go For It]

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Skateboard and you are close, well, maybe more than what people think. He has your back, you have his back, the two of you together are the ultimate combo of the brain —you— and the brawn —him— but sometimes it’s his brain and your brawn so good luck with that. But nonetheless, you enjoy your times together

He’s so casual with his affection, especially with those he is close with. He tags along with you at every given chance, whether it’s just a simple walk for fresh air or a lousy party. Skateboard makes sure that your moment around him is never wasted, although it can be pretty silly sometimes how he just straight up drag you into seeing him doing dope tricks, a high chance you will see him kiss the wall or floor. And don’t get me started on the physical touch: Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, hugging you out of nowhere, horn bumping for fun…

It’s just about time when you realize this bubbly feeling you have whenever you spend time with him. But then you shake your head

You don’t really take Skateboard as a romantic type of person, or at least in a traditional sense of romance. He always seems to have his head on the cloud, not really mind all those lovey dovey stuff and all. Perhaps he is just that simple-minded, but goddamn does that silly’s oblivion gets on your nerves at the same time you find him so endearing

You don’t want to risk running a good friendship because of your feelings, right? You don’t even know if he’s feeling the same. So maybe silence is the best solution, at least you still have him by your side

But oh boy do you know what’s on his mind?

It’s mostly just you. Hell, every time he spends time near you, his IQ just seems to pack it up then fly away because of the wind almost immediately. You never really leave his mind because you keep walking back and forth inside it. He makes it that obvious to the point that Slingshot just looks at him judgingly with the ‘Bro what are you even waiting for?’ while Boombox just goes ‘We got your back if you needed’. Calling Skateboard hopeless or whatever, but he’s completely smitten for you

He wants to wait for a good time to confess. But SFOTH above, why does it sound harder than he imagined? As much as Skateboard doesn’t really take anything seriously, he takes you and his feelings seriously, — which again, a rare thing — this whole thing is so foreign to him. He feels embarrassed, not knowing what to do, even has to drag Slingshot and Boombox into this to help him out. Screw it, he even drags Coil in this ‘ultimate council meeting’ because he needs to know what is he going to do

Coil says, “I mean, impress who you like with what you have? Like it’s not that hard, also why am I here”

Boombox says, “Maybe read the room then go for it, just be yourself. Relax, it’s not like you to be so worried”

Slingshot says, “Get your phone, text them to meet you in person, then tell them. You have been pining for who knows how long— What are you? Hopeless poet in the 90s?”

With all of those advices combined, Skateboard finally works up his courage…to go to sleep early. In his defense, that’s how he tidies up his mind before get the balls to confess to you. Yesterday will be the day, he means it! Now he just needs to sleep through the night to get his strength in check so that he can make thing clear with you

Yet he can’t seem to sleep properly. Every time he close his eyes, his thoughts just seem to be louder, disturbing his soon to be slumber. He keeps lying on his bed, turning from side to side in frustration - still no uses. Midnight has soon passed, he takes his phone out then sighs when noticing what time is it

There’s no use just struggling to sleep like this. He puts back his shirt on, grabs his jacket before heads out of his apartment. Maybe some refreshments can help him clear up his mind, the convenience store is still opening through the night, something that he feels thankful whenever his carving starts to kick in out of nowhere. Idly standing on — well —his skateboard, he mindlessly skates through the stress after getting whatever he wants in that moment. His mind is still pretty much as messy as before, what a pain in the ass

“Huh? Hey Skate, that’s you there?”

Your voice drags his mind back to the right place. In truth, it startles the living shit out of him. Skateboard is positive that he was about to smash himself right into the electric pole if he doesn’t react in time. His eyes shift to your direction, huffs out a chuckle

“Ey, what’s up? You almost got me doing a bye-bye on the spot there”

Your company is doing things to him: He feels so relaxed around you, yet at the same time the butterflies keep doing backflip inside his stomach. The two of you arrive at the park for some chitchat. Turns out you can’t sleep at all. What a coincidence when seeing him, and here you think you would have to spend the night away out of boredom

It’s not technically early anymore, so the two of you just talk the hours away without a care. On that note, he also does some idle tricks to keep his mind occupied while talking with you. The moment seems different from your usual times together, there’s a certain calmness to it. It pesters his mind nonstop. His thoughts keeps interrupting his actions, and there’s no surprise when he falls off mid-track

“Careful,” you call out, “You good?”

Skateboard sighs as he makes his way to where you are currently sitting on the ground, titling his head to rest on your shoulder. He doesn’t really say anything, even you are wondering if he has something bothering him at the moment

“Hey, is everything alright? Tell me”

Maybe he will just get on this ride or die, it’s now or never. He has been worried if this feeling is unrequited, but knowing how long you two have been tagging along together, you will understand where he’s coming from, no? If he ends up getting rejected, he still wants to be with you, even just as a friend

“I…Don’t hate me for this, kay? I really like you. Like, in a like-like way, not in a…you know-“

Gosh, he sounds like a nervous wreck

“I have this feeling whenever I’m with you, I know it’s a good feeling. I like you, a lots, in a romantic way…”

There, he has said it. If thing takes a direction he doesn’t like, at least he has mentally prepared himself for whatever your response is. There is hope in his voice, wanting you to accept his feeling. But it’s your choice

To his surprise, you reach for his hand and squeeze it

“About damn fucking time”

Wait, what?

He looks up with you in confusion before you bump your horn against his with this gleeful smile on your face. That smile is contagious, Skateboard has soon found himself smiling like an idiot as well

“Hell, dude,” you laugh, “And here I was worried that my feeling is unrequited. How long has this been going on, huh? You really keep me waiting my ass off there”

Skateboard smiles sheepishly at your lighthearted question. This has been surprisingly pleasant for him, unlike the scenario in his mind. All he knows is that you feel the same. Gosh, he feels like a dumbass. Has he known better, he should have confessed right away instead of longing for you. You have always been so close to him, how could he not notice the signs right away?

The night passes with the two of you talking about each other’s feeling, maybe a playful banter in between because of how oblivious the two of you have been. It sounds so dumb, yet he feels contented with this

You feel the same, that’s all matters to him

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Note: (*´∀`) ♪ Well I said I would be back and I never let you go, pick a petal off a flower, do you love me or ♪

[jigeuminunbich]

more than a little bit | kim donghyun (leehan)

synopsis — you’re not exactly sure what love is supposed to feel like, seeing as you’ve never experienced it and leehan is your first ever relationship. but after scolding him for contemplating a haircut, you realize that you might just be familiar with the sensation.

genre — nonidol!au, fem!reader, established relationship, and straight fluff

content — leehan wants to cut his hair (reader is strongly against that) and cheesy i love you’s

word count — 1k

author’s note — the fact this is my second (2nd) time writing abt being against an idol cutting their hair ijbol

“Woah,” Leehan pauses in the mirror right beside his bed, ruffling a hand through his unruly brown locs. “I need a haircut.” he comments, it’s quiet— intended to be taken as something lighthearted as he punctuates with a short laugh.

But you pull your head from your device at it nonetheless, eyes piercing into the back of your boyfriend’s head, “No, you don’t.”

“___, are you joking? Look at me,” he shakes his head, his long tresses following suit. Okay, yeah, his hair had gotten exponentially longer in the time you’ve been together. There was always the occasional comment from him or his friends that he was seriously overgrowing it but you happened to like his long hair— Leehan knew this well.

“I am looking at you… and you look fine.” You state slowly, almost as if you’re confused.

Leehan snorts, looking over his shoulder to glare at you through slitted eyelids, “You just don’t want me to cut it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I still think it looks good.”

Not even a moment later does your boyfriend eject from his spot next to you to stand, “Well if that’s the case, then I’m cutting it—“

“No!” Panicked, you reach out to grab ahold of his arm. Leehan looks between where you grip him and the alarmed look in your eyes.

“You were saying?” He laughs as you recede with a sheepish attitude.

You sit on the back of your calves, reaching that same hand up to twist a finger in one of his curly strands, “It’s not even that bad, ‘Hannie. You’re being dramatic…”

Leehan soaks in the adorable pout that finds the plush of your lips before finding your gaze, “I’m the dramatic one here?”

That same pout deepens, almost teetering on a frown as you fully pull away from the boy. He watches you as you crawl back to your designated place on his bed. “Okay, fine, do whatever you want.”

Leehan’s eyebrows disappear into his mane, though an amused smile still plays on his mouth, “You don’t care?”

“Nope.” You answer, returning to the depths of your phone.

“Hmm. So if I leave out right now, you won’t stop me?” Your boyfriend continues to probe you, earning an eye roll from you.

Slow, he takes a few steps away from the side of his bed, walking in the direction of his closet, “Fine… I’m gonna get ready now…”

You nod, “Okay.”

The door to his wardrobe creaks open when Leehan leisurely twists the knob, “And I’m going to leave out to cut my hair…”

“Have fun.” You deliver him an uninterested wave which seems to be his last straw. The door closes as Leehan draws back to join you on his bed. You try to continue your stoic act but it’s hard when his body familiarly slots between your legs. His presence forces your eyes up from the meaningless content in your hands and to his gaze. It makes you giggle that he struggles to retain it without running the chance of a strand poking him in the eye.

“You suck at acting like you don’t care about me, y’know that?” Your hands reach up to push his tresses back into place as well as you could, completely abandoning your phone to the side.

“Fine. I don’t want you to cut your hair, is that so wrong?” You bat your lashes innocently.

Leehan bites back a smile, fighting just how effective the soft touch of your hands on his face and the flutter of your lashes is, “Is it wrong that you’re okay with your boyfriend walking around looking god awful? Well yes.”

This seems to personally offend you, an actual frown finding your features, “You don’t look awful! And who cares…” your hands travel to the sides of your boyfriend’s neck, pulling his body fully atop of yours.

“—you don’t even have to go outside, you can stay with me.” It’s muffled into the fabric into his t-shirt but Leehan still reacts with a deep laugh, you can feel his chest vibrate with amusement.

“Oh you’re crazy,” he determines, though it’s still lighthearted in nature. “Okay, I can endure one more week. Just for you.”

You shutter when he punctuates his declaration with a brisk kiss to the side of your face, and you try to ignore how fuzzy the gesture makes you feel.

“Awe, you love me that much?” You exaggeratedly ask, your tone is playful as you hope to tease your boyfriend since you’ve successfully persuaded him from touching his hair (for now).

Leehan laughs, shuffling from your tight grasp to hover over you just a bit, “Heh. I love you more than that.” His tone is light as well but his words leave a deep feeling to tugging in your stomach.

“… you love me for real?” The question tumbles out from your lips before you can even catch it, you hope Leehan doesn’t pick up on your split second of panic but of course, being the person he is, he does.

His merriment depletes for a moment as he adjusts to your evident shock, “I— yeah, I do. Of course I do.”

That pit in your stomach begins to swell with the flutter of butterflies, the giddiness that Leehan’s confession brings you shows up on your face as you beam a wide smile up towards him. “I think I love you too.”

Leehan quirks an eyebrow before he tilts his head, “You think?”

You swallow, slight panic running through you, “I’m not sure what it's meant to feel like but… it feels right—“

Your quick explanation is cut short at the melodic sound of Leehan giggling and half-hearted annoyance takes over your feeling of distress.

“I’m just teasing you, love. If you aren’t sure—“ Leehan begins to clarify.

It’s your turn to interrupt him, shaking your head with a content grin permanently painted on your face, “No, no. I am. I love you too, Leehan.”

Your reiteration of your love for Leehan leaves him silent for a moment, he leans down quick enough so you can’t catch the spreading flush taking over the expanse of his cheeks. You gladly return his intention to kiss you, giggling softly against his lips.

Leehan pulls away, opting to completely lay his body on top of yours. Your hands immediately find his scalp to play in his hair.

“Mm. To think this all happened ‘cause I threatened a haircut. I should do that more often.” He murmurs, a wicked snicker leaving him when you stall all movements on top of his head.

“You’re evil.”

“You love me.”

And that you definitely did.

[inkspottie]

Hi spottie, are you aware of what’s going on with the pressure discord server and the homophobic comments there? you don’t have to talk about it here and I dont mean to spread a negative situation on your blog whatsoever, but im worried about you getting attacked by a mod or dev or anything for writing fishbug just because “its not fishbun”

I am aware, it’s all over my Twitter unfortunately. And I mean that in a serious way, not in a ‘stupid drama’ way like Zeal has been addressing it. Tldr for people who don’t know. Someone was harassed in the official server for stating that they didn’t feel comfortable in it and wanted to leave, only for people including people who worked on the game, to harass and mock them.

The way this fandom treats each other is very sad, and even more sad when people who work on the game to be the ones who started it. And have the creator brush it under the rug as, ‘if you are getting harassed just block them’ instead of addressing things properly.

I am not a full participant of the fandom, I stay away from the group chats and servers and find my own little nook and watch things implode from afar.

If anyone harasses you for doing something that the ‘devs’ don’t like and it’s harmless fun, don’t take it too seriously. New fandoms need to realize people can and will do things that might upset you, and trying to put them on a leash will just make things worse.

If I get attacked for having a Sebastian/oc, then there’s something very wrong with this fandom, and I simply won’t play into it. I’ve been around long enough to know that these characters are public domain, and if you didn’t like people playing with your dolls then you shouldn’t have passed them out in the first place.

That being said, we still need to be respectful. Do NOT stoop to their level. It will only make things worse for both sides.

[floadolescent]

social media headcanons for SOME of the td23 cast

bowie — he can be nice and respond to fans but if you cross him the wrong way he will be the most sickeningly toxic person ever, you’ll catch him in random comment sections fighting people and sometimes he’ll get into a scandal because he liked some hate tweets about total drama (especially julia hate tweets)

julia — similar to bowie but hating is her whole personality, she goes on instagram live and invites people she’s fighting to “mic up” or just straight up says kill yourself to people she doesn’t like (esp bowie) has been cancelled so many times that she has a cult following now

damien — he had a finsta from before the show that the super fans found and he doesn’t really know how to get rid of them so he just accepted his fate and posts like normal, responds to comments SOMETIMES if he feels like it’s not a dumb question

scary girl — very very ominous… she doesn’t really have a theme she just posts random stories of her being in weird places, oddly personal facts about celebrities every now and again, or just showing off cool stuff she got recently. it’s kinda wholesome then it’s some random actors whole life on the next slide/story

raj & wayne — similar thing to damien, they got their instagrams hunted down but they still post like normal. they fight homophobes in raj’s comments though because they think cyber bullying is funny if it’s deserved. wayne posts those infographics all the time and everyone laughs at him for it but he’s just a #ally!

mk — HOLY SHIT she doxxes people. when she gets into arguments she’ll just send a doxx bin link to them and it has their entire family history and their co-ordinates, but outside of that she’s chill. she doesn’t post on her main but she has anonymous accounts where she gets into reddit discourse and other shenanigans

zee — honestly i think he doesn’t even know what’s going on! he definitely has an account but he literally has never posted once in his life (out of his own volition, he puts up sponsor posts) but sometimes he’ll just hop on lives and ramble for like 3 hours then disappear

[carefulzombie]

gf fandom in 2016: if you so much as hint - even jokingly! - about the nature of ford and bill’s relationship being anything other than platonic (and even then you NEED to give a disclaimer that bill is manipulating him!) then you support abusive relationships

gf fandom in 2024: