#i would have literally never thought of it

[xestypeachghost]

I literally had an epiphany earlier this week about this, actually.

I've been doing a bit better mentally ( not struggling with my depression and adhd symptoms as much ) after almost completely dropping other platforms such as instagram and YouTube shorts and engaging more with tumblr, despite engaging in content of more or less the same topics.

I think that 1) the culture of tumblr is completely different from anywhere else I've been online, and actively encourages everyone to not just speak into the void, but engage with a void that often speaks back ( even if it doesn't turn into a conversation between users, ya know? ). 2) largely as a result of the culture, we all know that tumblr is difficult to market ( despite people trying ), which kind of makes the algorithms of other websites, whose entire goal is to shove content down your throat, not really exist as much here.

I always find that I really slow down and intentionally engage more with tumblr than other places on the internet ( even YouTube ) bc everywhere else the users feel more like influencers ( of some level ) than just people i can potentially just shoot the shit with

Anyway :3

My therapist just told me my problem is that I need to write more fanfiction.

[voyter]

STAGED FOR THE SEASON ! ... christmas special

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader

going back home for the holidays meant facing his ex — the one he still couldn’t let go of. determined to win her back and spark a little jealousy, he brought you along… as his fake girlfriend.

word count. 18.3k words warnings. fake dating au. angst. friends to lovers. jk not over his ex. FLIRTING !! TENSION !! jungkook comes to his senses a lot in this. angst. lots of teasing. smut. unprotected sex. oral (both!receiving). quiet sex hehe. munch jk again sorry i love an eater. a little male masturbation. he looks at her while he strokes it bites lip. dom!jk (still a sub enthusiast tho). oh did i mention angst ?

ana's notes. merry christmas in february !! im crying THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING. i swear this was originally supposed to be posted in december, but i ended scrapping after scrapping. that led to the writing taking much longer than i thought it would and i actually still hate this LMFAO but i did not spend all that time on this just to not post it. so here it is. just .. here JUST TAKE IT. next fic will make up for this mess, i promise x

Jungkook was a wild individual, his life practically a highlight reel of impulsive decisions and stories that somehow always ended with him escaping a war. From his childhood to his teenage years and everything in between, you’d heard your fair share of them — events so absurd that you sometimes questioned if they were even real.

But as wild and ridiculous as those stories were, nothing could have prepared you for what he was saying right now.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend for Christmas.”

You froze, staring at him in pure bewilderment. It was so random — like, literally, what the fuck?

The two of you had been lounging comfortably on your couch, a shared blanket draped across your laps as you caught up on each other's lives. The conversation had been perfectly ordinary. He’d just asked about your holiday plans, and you’d told him you were spending your holiday break from work in your apartment.  

And then he said this, like it was nothing.  

Now, judging by the way you were looking at him — eyes wide, utterly dumbfounded — Jungkook couldn’t tell if there was a ghost standing behind him or if his question was genuinely out of pocket.

Jungkook shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Well?”  

You blinked rapidly, trying to make sense of his words. Is he okay? “I��m sorry?”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but just hear me out,” he said, sitting upright in one swift motion, his previously slouched posture disappearing as if the words themselves had straightened his spine. “I’m going home for the holidays, and you know how my mom is close friends with my ex's mom, right?”  

“Mhm…” you hum slowly, even though you already know where this is headed.

“Well, my mom invited her over on Christmas… and Misa’s gonna be there,” he says, the words spilling out like a reluctant confession. His gaze shifts to the floor, as though the hardwood could offer him some kind of solace or escape from your reaction. There’s a slight edge to his voice, like he’s bracing himself for your judgment, and his fingers tug at the thread on his jeans.  

“Kook…” Your voice drops to a quieter tone, heavy with exasperation, before a sigh escapes your lips.  

Now, you’ve heard that name a few times. And each time you did, it felt like an unwanted stone hurled into calm waters, rippling outward until it disrupted everything.  

You didn’t dislike Misa herself — how could you, when you’d never even met her? What you couldn’t stand was the effect her name had on Jungkook. It wasn’t just sadness or nostalgia that overtook him; it was something deeper, something heavier. Like a wound that had never fully healed, her name had the power to knock the air out of him, leaving him raw and vulnerable every time.

The first time you heard of Misa was through Jimin and Taehyung. According to them, Jungkook and Misa had been childhood friends who started dating in high school. But that love didn’t survive graduation. They were heading to different universities — she to Ulsan, and him in Seoul — and while Jungkook had begged her to make it work, she never wanted to do long distance. It was practical, maybe even logical, but it had wrecked him.

Jungkook never pursued relationships after her; he didn’t see the point. Love, in his eyes, was a gamble he wasn’t willing to take again. Instead, he sought out fleeting connections with girls he found attractive, indulging in temporary pleasures without the weight of commitment. It wasn’t fair, and deep down, he knew it. But as messed up as it was, he couldn’t stop himself.  

Because he didn’t want to love anyone else.  

Love had burned him once — left him raw, scarred, and reluctant to open that part of himself again. It was easier this way, safer. No expectations, no vulnerability, no chance of heartbreak. Just meaningless hookups that kept the loneliness at bay for a little while.  

“You already know what I’m going to say,” he says quietly, his voice subdued yet heavy with expectation.  

“Yeah, I do,” you snap back, unable to hide the sharp edge in your tone. There’s a bite of attitude behind your words, frustration simmering beneath the surface.

And of course, you do. He wanted you to come with him, to play the part, to make her jealous. Everything Jungkook did seemed to circle back to her. Every action, every thought, every breath — it all revolved around Misa. She was an unshakable presence in his life, even in her absence, consuming his every waking second.  

And that’s what stung. Not for yourself, but for him. Because she wouldn’t have broken up with him in the first place if she thought about him the way he still thought about her. If she cared even a fraction as much as he still does.  

You could only stare at him, your expression a mixture of pity and quiet disappointment. He had so much to give, so much love that could be directed toward someone who might actually deserve it. Yet here he was, stuck in a loop, still thinking about someone who chose to let him go.  

“I know,” he says softly. And the worst part? He really does know. He knows exactly what you’re thinking because he’s heard it all before. And it frustrates you to no end because knowing and doing are two very different things.

You’ve never held back from telling him exactly how you feel. As one of his best friends, you had every right to be upset about it. Watching him go through girls like they’re disposable wasn’t just reckless; it was self destructive. You’d made it painfully clear how detrimental it was for him to still be hung up on his ex, and even more so to avoid meaningful connections altogether. But despite your blunt honesty, Jungkook has never made an effort to truly change.

He never takes the time to get to know the women he hooks up with — it’s always a simple fuck and go. It’s a vicious cycle that leaves no room for growth or healing. But Jungkook’s stubbornness is both his armor and his downfall.

Before you could scold him, you catch yourself. You take a breath, reminding yourself that emotions, especially Jungkook’s, aren’t something he can just flip on and off. Instead of letting your frustration bubble over, you pause, choosing empathy. You let yourself step into his shoes, imagining the weight he must carry, the way old memories cling like cobwebs in the corners of his mind.

Jungkook has always been there for you, through thick and thin.

Now, it was your turn to return the favor.

“I’ll do it,” you said, finally breaking the heavy silence.

His head snapped up so fast you flinched, half expecting him to pull a muscle. His hair bounced with the sudden movement, and his eyes were wide, shining with a mix of disbelief and cautious hope. “Really?”

“This is very stupid, Jungkook,” you replied, your tone firm but tinged with a resigned gentleness.  

“It is,” he agreed without hesitation, nodding like a chastised child. Because he knew you were right — it was stupid, immature even. The two of you were grown adults for crying out loud, and here he was asking you to fake being his girlfriend just to get under his ex’s skin.

You only sighed, the weight of your decision settling over you. “Then I guess we should lay down some boundaries,” you said, your voice steady, though your stomach churned with unease.  

His face lit up with a bright, almost childlike smile, his eyes sparkling with hope. He still couldn’t believe you were agreeing to this. “Right-”

“I’m not kissing you,” you interrupted, your tone firm.

The joy drained from his face in an instant, replaced by pure, unfiltered horror. “What? No one is going to believe us if you don’t let me kiss you!”  

“Then we’ll just say we aren’t comfortable with PDA,” you countered with a shrug, as if it were the simplest solution in the world.  

“I always kissed Misa in front of our parents!” he argued, a faint whine creeping into his voice.

“Then we’ll say I’m not comfortable with PDA,” you shot back, emphasizing your words. “Kook, I just don’t think it’d be appropriate.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he reluctantly nodded. As much as he hated the idea of limiting the act, he understood where you were coming from. The last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. “Fine. Can I at least kiss you on the cheek?”  

“Yeah,” you said, offering a small smile.  

“Great,” he replied, perking up slightly. “We must be touching at all times. I was always very clingy with Misa, so it needs to look natural…”  

You almost grimaced at the thought. You let out a long sigh, nodding reluctantly. “Fine. Touching at all times. But keep your hands where I can see them.”  

“Relax,” Jungkook said with a grin, leaning back smugly. “I’m not a perv. Maybe we should practice-”

“If you touch me, I will hit you,” you cut him off, glaring.

Days after your little agreement with Jungkook, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car, the heater humming softly as it worked to fight the cold winter air that seeped through the windows. The trunk was packed tightly with your bags, a visible reminder of the journey ahead, and the winding highway stretched endlessly before you under the dull gray sky.  

Initially, the plan was simple: head to Busan on Christmas day, just in time for dinner. But Jungkook’s mom insisted that you both arrive a day earlier to rest after the long drive. The suggestion didn’t bother you — in fact, it seemed practical. Yet, it also meant one extra day to brace yourself for the moment you’d stand beside Jungkook as he faced the girl who broke his heart.

With an acrylic nail caught between your teeth, you stared out the window, taking in the scenery as it changed around you. It didn’t snow here; the air was crisp, the breeze carried faint traces of salt from the sea. The bustling cityscape of Seoul was a stark contrast to the quieter, more laid back atmosphere of Busan. You found yourself admiring the differences, marveling at how a different part of Korea could feel so distinct yet familiar.

The person beside you was lost in thought, grappling with something entirely different.

In just about a day, Jungkook would come face to face with the girl he once swore was the love of his life — the one who had ruined love for him. Nine years ago. Almost an entire era of his existence had passed since they last saw each other, back when he was just a seventeen year old kid. She had been the center of his world once, and even after she broke up with him, she still lingered in his mind.

During the midst of the long drive, you’d fallen asleep. The steady hum of the car and the rhythm of the road had cradled you into a peaceful slumber. But as the journey came to an end, so did your nap, when you felt a gentle pressure on your arm.

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting the soft glow of the garage door in front of the driveway. You blinked a few times, your vision adjusting to the new surroundings, before pulling your headphones off your head.

“Sleep well?” Jungkook’s voice broke through the haze of sleep, his smirk evident even before you looked at him.

“Mmm, sitting up and with my neck bent? Slept so good,” you tease, a sarcastic smile pulling at the corners of your lips as you stretch your stiff limbs.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but there’s a playful edge to his response. He presses the button to turn off the car. “Let’s go inside. I’m fucking beat,” he says, his voice casual, but the tiredness in his tone betrays how much he’s ready to be done with the drive.

You stretch one more time, a satisfying crack running down your spine as you unbuckle your seatbelt. You glance out the window, your eyes falling on Jungkook’s childhood home. It’s a beautiful house, its exterior glowing warmly under the lights, casting long shadows. 

It’s a home that likely holds countless memories for him. You can almost imagine the sound of laughter, of family dinners and the warmth of his parents’ love. The kind of place where so many moments, both small and monumental, are tucked away in corners.

“Coming?” Jungkook calls, his voice carrying a teasing edge. You snap your head toward him, catching the sight of him leaning down, his head poking just enough from the car door so he can see you clearly. His mischievous grin matches the playful tone in his voice. “Or you gonna sleep in here some more?”

You raise an eyebrow, your lips curving into a smirk. “Keep fucking with me, and I’ll drive your car back home and leave you here,” you warn, voice dripping with sarcasm.

He clicks his tongue in mock frustration, rolling his eyes dramatically, clearly amused by your threat. “Girl, hurry up,” he retorts, the playful irritation in his tone betraying how little he actually means it.

You chuckle before you grab your purse and swing the door open. The cold air rushes in, sharp and biting against your skin, but you barely notice as the playful tension between the two of you lingers in the space between the car and the house.

You shut the car door with a soft thud before making your way to the back of the car. Jungkook is already there, pulling out the suitcases like it’s second nature — his sleek black one in one hand and your unmistakeable pink one in the other.

“I could’ve got it myself, you know,” you say, reaching out to press the button that automatically closes the trunk.

“Sure you could’ve,” he quips without missing a beat, effortlessly balancing both suitcases as if they weigh nothing. “But I can’t have my girlfriend going around carrying her stuff. That’s what I’m here for.”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head, though the smile tugging at the corners of your lips betrays your true feelings. You two weren’t even inside yet and he was already playing boyfriend. “You’re annoying.”

Jungkook merely smirks, adjusting his grip on the luggage with practiced ease. "Yet, here you are," he teases, his tone dripping with playful arrogance. Without waiting for a reply, he strides past you, carrying both suitcases as if they weighed nothing. Of course, he wasn't just dragging them by the wheels; Jungkook wouldn't dare let them get scratched up. He doesn't even glance back as he says over his shoulder, "And you can't say that to me. I'm your boyfriend, remember?"

You let out a soft laugh, biting back a retort, and simply trail after him, the cold breeze nips at your cheeks as the warmth of his playful energy draws you closer.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon not long before you woke up. The neighborhood was peaceful, a stark contrast to the buzz of the city you were used to. It felt like time moved slower here, as if everyone respected the rhythm of each other's lives. The only sound came from the faint crunch of pavement beneath your Uggs, a small echo that followed you as you walked behind Jungkook toward the front door.

Jungkook reached the door first, the suitcases set down on each side of him as he pressed the doorbell. The sound of the melodic chime was faint but clear, cutting through the stillness of the night. You barely had a second to process it before the door swung open.

The first thing that hit you wasn't the warmth of the house or the inviting scent of cinnamon, pumpkin spice candles, or the faint pine from the Christmas tree you could see in the distance.

No, it was her.

The woman who opened the door was stunning. She stood there, framed by the doorway, dressed elegantly in a red blouse that complemented her bold, perfectly applied red lipstick. Her silky, dark hair fell in long waves around her shoulders, each strand catching the soft glow of the porch light. Her skin was radiant, practically glowing, free of any signs of age or stress — you just knew her husband didn’t stress her out.

"Ah, finally! I was wondering when you'd be here," she exclaims, her voice warm and inviting as she immediately pulls Jungkook into a hug.

"Hi, Ma," he chuckles softly, his tone affectionate and familiar.

She pulls back slightly, just enough to plant a kiss on his cheek, her smile widening as she takes a moment to admire her youngest son. Her eyes then shift to you, and her expression brightens even more. It's as if she already knows you, her warmth extending effortlessly as she steps forward and wraps you in a hug without hesitation.

You glance up at Jungkook over her shoulder, and he's already mouthing a quick, sheepish apology behind her back. Caught off guard, you freeze for a moment, but the comforting scent of her home wafting from her brings you ease. You lean into the hug, letting her warmth envelop you.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, finding your hands and holding them. “Oh, it’s so nice to finally meet you,” she says softly, saying your name in a tone that feels so sweet, so genuine, that it tugs at your chest. Her gaze is filled with awe, as if she’s seeing someone she’s already heard so much about, and the kindness in her eyes makes you smile despite yourself.

"It's nice to meet you, too," you chuckle softly, your voice warm and genuine. Her kindness is infectious, and you can't help but feel at ease. "Thank you for having me over," you add, meaning every word.

"Oh, of course!" she exclaims, her excitement bubbling over as she grabs your hands tighter. "I'm so glad you could make it. It's been far too long since I've seen this one with someone."

"Mom," Jungkook says, his tone edged with a mixture of embarrassment and impatience, ready for her to end her swooning.

"Alright, alright," she relents, though the affectionate smile on her face doesn't waver. Releasing your hands, she gestures toward the doorway with a gentle nudge at your shoulder.

"You two must be tired. Let's get you inside."

You step forward as she guides you in, the warmth of her gesture matching the atmosphere inside. Jungkook stays a step behind, standing at the side of the doorway to let you and his mom enter first.

The moment you step inside, the welcoming heat of the house envelops you, melting away the lingering cold that clings stubbornly to your layers of sweaters. With a quiet sigh of relief, you slip off your shoes, letting the warmth of the carpet floors guide you further in. Each step feels like an invitation, the comforting atmosphere drawing you deeper into its embrace.

The living room greets you with a cozy glow, the Christmas tree taking center stage. It's adorned with ornaments, from handmade crafts to glimmering baubles, all illuminated by warm string lights that cast soft reflections onto the nearby walls.

The kitchen's dim lighting spills softly into the space, complementing the golden ambiance. Picture frames hang on the walls, each one a memory.

Mrs. Jeon dismisses you both, urging you two to go upstairs and wind down before dinner. You and Jungkook hum in acknowledgment before he starts up the stairs, his hands gripping the handles of the luggage. You follow closely behind, your pace matching his slower one as he hauls the bags up. The steps creak softly beneath your weight, and your eyes wander to the walls, taking in the baby pictures framed and lined up with care.  

“You were such a cute kid,” you tease, a fond smile curling your lips. “What happened?”  

Jungkook glances back at you, feigning offense. “Don’t act like I’m ugly now.”  

“I didn’t say you were,” you reply sweetly, trailing just behind him.

“So, I’m not ugly?” Jungkook asks, setting his suitcase on the ground before turning the knob and pushing open the door to his bedroom.  

“That’s also not what I said,” you reply, a hint of amusement in your tone.  

He picks up his suitcase again, carrying it into the room and placing it neatly beside your pink one. “Kind of is,” he teases, his words drawn out as if savoring the moment. “Keep it up, and I might start thinking you have a crush on me.”  

“Ugh,” you groan dramatically, scrunching your nose. “You wish.”  

He chuckles, the sound light and carefree, as he strides over to his nightstand and flicks on the lamp.  

The warm glow washes over the room, casting a nostalgic ambiance. Your eyes sweep across his childhood bedroom, taking in the details. Posters of anime characters and superheroes still cling to the blue-painted walls, a testament to the boy he once was. Shelves crammed with trophies, medals, and action figures line one side of the room, proudly showcasing his accomplishments and hobbies. In the corner by the window sits a desk, cluttered yet organized, as if it had been left untouched since his teenage years. It’s clear Jungkook’s mom hadn’t touched his room all these years, preserving it like a time capsule of his youth.  

"I guess one of us is taking the floor," you remark, breaking the silence as you shut the door behind you.

Your eyes flick to the bed in the center of the room, the blue-and-white striped comforter tucked neatly over the mattress. It's spacious — easily big enough for two.

Jungkook turns toward you, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "Yeah, I'll take the floor," he says, his tone light but certain, as if he's already resigned himself to the discomfort.

Despite all the teasing and playful banter you two always fall into, moments like this remind you of who Jungkook truly is: thoughtful, selfless, and entirely too earnest for his own good.  

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice quieter now, tinged with hesitation.  

He nods firmly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.  

You return his smile, stepping closer to the bed and carefully placing your purse on the neatly made comforter. Sharing a bed with Jungkook wouldn’t have been the worst thing in the world, but it still felt like a line — one you weren’t entirely sure either of you wanted to cross.

The brief tension in the room dissolves as Jungkook clears his throat, shifting the atmosphere back to something more neutral. He moves to unpack his suitcase, crouching to place it on the floor, his hands working through the neatly folded clothes inside. You lower yourself onto the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly beneath your weight.  

Grabbing your own suitcase, you busy yourself as well, the sound of zippers and rustling fabric filling the space. The simplicity of it feels grounding, a quiet prelude to the whirlwind you both know is coming.  

The rest of the evening unfolds seamlessly.

After unpacking, you and Jungkook join his parents for dinner, the warm glow of the dining room making everything feel cozy and intimate. The food is delicious — homemade and hearty — and the conversation flows easily. You find yourself genuinely enjoying their company, feeling more at home than you expected.  

After dinner, you help clear the table despite Jungkook’s insistence that you relax, and his mother beams at you in gratitude. By the time you and Jungkook finally head upstairs, your stomach is full, your cheeks are sore from smiling, and a comfortable warmth lingers in your chest.  

While Jungkook was in the bathroom, unwinding for the night, you stood in his bedroom, slipping into something more comfortable for sleep.

Reaching behind your neck, you unclasped the last of your accessories, your fingers brushing over the familiar chain. And that's when you felt it — the delicate metal snapping apart in your hands.

Your breath hitched as you stared down at the broken necklace, your heart sinking. The piece that had been passed down to you, the one that meant so much, now lay in two fragile halves in your palm.

“No!” you exclaim, your voice sharp and panicked.

Jungkook appears in the doorway within seconds, his brows furrowed with concern, his hair falling into his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asks, scanning the room as if preparing for the worst. 

“Oh, nothing, sorry,” you pout, holding up the broken chain in your hand, the delicate locket dangling from your fingertips. “My necklace just broke.” Your tone is softer now, but the frustration and sadness are evident. 

Jungkook steps closer, his expression softening as his eyes fall on the piece of jewelry. “Let me see,” he says, his voice calm and steady. 

You hand him the chain, its links split cleanly apart, and the locket, small and aged, but clearly well-loved. His fingers brush yours as he takes it, inspecting the damage with a gentle touch. 

“I’ll get you a new one,” he offers without hesitation, his voice firm with intent. 

You shake your head, though you can’t help but smile at his kindness. “Thanks, but it’s okay,” you say, your voice carrying a bittersweet note. “It was my grandma’s. She gave it to me before she passed.”  

His gaze shifts from the broken chain to your face, his expression softening further. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his voice low and apologetic. 

“Don’t be,” you reply quickly, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It’s a feeble attempt to deflect, and you know it. So does Jungkook. He’s perceptive like that — always has been. But instead of pressing the matter, he lets it slide, his silence a quiet mercy.

You walk toward your toiletry bag sitting on the dresser, rummaging through it in search of your lotion. Behind you, Jungkook sneakily pockets the broken necklace without a word.

Without hesitation, he heads for the closet, his movements fluid and unhurried as he retrieves a couple of comforters, draping them over his arm.  

He drops the bundle onto the floor beside the bed and crouches down, carefully arranging his makeshift sleeping area. The soft rustle of fabric fills the room as he spreads one comforter out as a base, smoothing over the creases with practiced ease.  

“You really don’t have to do that,” you murmur, your voice gentle as you settle onto the bed, watching him.  

Jungkook glances up at you, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “It’s fine,” he replies, the simplicity of his words carrying an unspoken certainty.  

You observe him as he finishes setting up, his movements unbothered, almost second nature. When he finally stretches out on the floor, arms folded behind his head, he looks far too relaxed for someone who willingly chose the hardwood over the comfort of the bed.  

“Comfortable?” you ask, raising a brow, your tone laced with amusement.

“As comfortable as the floor can get,” he jokes, running a hand through his hair with an easy grin.  

You shake your head, chuckling softly, but the warmth spreading through your chest lingers — a quiet appreciation for his effort.  

The room settles into a comfortable silence, the muffled hum of the night pressing in through the walls. The faint scent of fresh linens mingles with the soft sweetness of your lotion, wrapping around you like a gentle cocoon. You tug the covers higher, the warmth seeping into your skin as your gaze drifts downward.  

Jungkook lies sprawled out on the makeshift bed, his face partially illuminated by the dim glow of the bedside lamp. The golden light casts soft shadows along the sharp angles of his jaw, highlighting the quiet ease in his features. There’s something unreadable in his expression, but the calmness about him is infectious, settling over you like a lull.  

“Mom told me she likes you a lot,” he says suddenly, his voice low and steady, breaking the stillness.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard by his words. “Oh, really?” you ask, aiming for a casual tone, though the slight waver in your voice betrays your curiosity.  

He nods, resting his head on one hand, his dark eyes locked onto yours. "Yeah," he murmurs, his voice soft yet laced with amusement. "She said I should treat you well… so I don’t lose a good thing."  

His words linger between you, unexpected yet undeniably warm. A surprised smile tugs at your lips as heat creeps up your neck, spreading faster than you’d like. You glance away, attempting to play it cool. "That’s really sweet of her," you say, keeping your tone light despite the flutter in your chest. "But how exactly are we going to break it to her that your beautiful, amazing, perfect girlfriend… isn’t actually your girlfriend?"  

Jungkook huffs a small, disbelieving laugh, his eyes narrowing slightly. “We’ll figure that out soon,” he says, voice low and certain. “For now… don’t worry about it.”

You wake up abruptly, blinking against the morning light streaming through the curtains. Your mind feels hazy, and you can’t quite piece together the moments before you fell asleep. Sitting up, you glance toward the floor, only to find Jungkook’s makeshift bed empty and disheveled.

Right on cue, the door creaks open, and in walks Jungkook. Your breath catches in your throat. His hair is damp, droplets clinging to the strands and dripping onto his broad shoulders. A towel hangs precariously low on his hips, barely covering enough. His tattooed arm, ink running from his shoulder down to his fingers, flexes as he pushes the door shut behind him. Your gaze betrays you, trailing down the contours of his chest, his toned abs glistening with water droplets, and further down to the deep V-line teasing just above the towel’s edge.

“You’re awake,” he says, his voice casual as if he isn’t standing there half-naked and looking like a walking thirst trap.

“You’re naked,” you mock.

He glances down at himself, running a hand lazily down his abs, a motion that only emphasizes his physique. “Nope, I’ve got a towel on.” His lips curl into a smirk as he meets your gaze. “Why? You tryna see more?”

“Jungkook!” you exclaim, heat rushing to your face as you yank the blanket over your head, effectively shielding yourself from the sight.

“I’m kidding!” he laughs, his voice rich with amusement, and you can practically hear the grin on his face.

After a moment of muffled indignation, you peek out from the safety of your blanket. Jungkook has turned to his dresser, his back muscles shifting and flexing with every movement as he searches for clothes. You hesitate, your gaze lingering longer than it should, admiring the way the morning light outlines the definition of his shoulders and back.  

“Are you done staring, or should I pose for a picture?” he teases without turning around, his voice laced with playful smugness.

You groan, throwing yourself back against the pillows. “Unbelievable.”  

He chuckles again, pulling out a sweater and jeans. “Relax. I’ll get dressed in the bathroom.” He tosses a wink over his shoulder before heading back out, leaving you alone to cool down your burning cheeks and racing heart.  

The room feels quieter once he’s gone, but his presence lingers in the charged air, heavy and undeniable. You throw the blanket off with a sigh, sitting up and running a hand through your hair, trying to push away the thoughts swirling in your mind. His teasing smirk, the droplets of water trailing down his skin, the way he stood there so casually — it was all too much.  

You stand abruptly, the need to escape the confined space overwhelming. The cool floor beneath your feet grounds you slightly as you make your way to the door. Heading downstairs feels like the only option, the only way to clear your head and put some distance between yourself and the overwhelming presence of Jungkook.  

The staircase creaks softly under your weight as you descend, the faint hum of morning activity filtering up from the kitchen. The smell of coffee drifts through the air, warm and inviting, a contrast to the storm of emotions brewing inside you.  

The open space of the living room feels like a relief, but the image of him lingers in your mind, unshakable. You take a deep breath, your steps slower now as you reach the kitchen, hoping the steady rhythm of the house will settle the tension knotting in your chest.  

But even as you move through the familiar space, you can’t help the way your thoughts betray you, replaying the moments upstairs. The sight of him, so effortless, so... distracting. You shake your head, trying to push it all away, determined to focus on anything else as the morning unfolds.

As you make your way to the kitchen, the sound of someone moving around greets you. Mrs. Jeon is already up, a warm smile on her face as she spots you. "Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?"

You hesitate for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I did. Thank you."

Her smile widens, and she hands you a steaming mug of coffee. "Good. Jungkook's not giving you a hard time, is he?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Not yet."

Oh, he definitely already was. But she didn’t need to know that.

She chuckles softly, the sound warm and familiar, as you take a sip of the coffee she brewed for you. You savor the drink, the warmth spreading through your chest, and just as you’re about to compliment her coffee making skills, Mrs. Jeon speaks first, her voice breaking the silence.  

"So, I assume you know who's coming over tonight?" she asks. Her gaze meets yours briefly, a knowing look flickering in her eyes.

The question catches you mid-sip, and you lower your mug slowly, nodding in quiet acknowledgment. You haven't fully unpacked the weight of what's to come tonight, but denying it feels pointless now.

Mrs. Jeon's expression softens, the corners of her lips curving into a kind, almost maternal smile. "I'm sorry, honey," she says, her tone gentle but sincere.

“No, there’s no need to apologize,” you reply, doing your best to sound steady, even as a flicker of unease gnaws at the edges of your composure. “It’s… really okay.”  

“Surely it isn’t,” she says softly. “If circumstances were different, I wouldn’t have put you in this situation in a heartbeat.”  

Her words hit you harder than you expect, stirring emotions you weren't prepared to confront. It's like a sudden weight pressing down on your chest, an ache that you can't quite place. You swallow hard, the once comforting warmth of your coffee now tasting bitter on your tongue.

"Thank you," you murmur, your voice soft and measured. Your gaze falls to your mug, fingers curling tighter around it, as though its warmth might quiet the unease swirling in your chest. After a pause, you add, "I really appreciate it, but as long as Jungkook’s okay, I’ll be okay."

Mrs. Jeon hums, the sound warm and heartfelt, a quiet acknowledgment of your sincerity. “You’re a good one,” she says, breaking the silence. “Jungkook’s been through a lot over the years. Seeing him happy like this... it makes me happy, too. So, thank you — for being there for him.”

The words strike a chord, and you feel a sudden, sharp pang of guilt twist in your stomach. You glance up at her, her kind eyes meeting yours, and it takes everything in you to keep your composure. She believes you’re the reason for Jungkook’s happiness, that your relationship with him is real, and the weight of that misunderstanding feels heavier than ever.

“It’s nothing, really,” you say, though your voice wavers ever so slightly. “I care about him a lot and he’s always been there for me, too.”  

She offers a genuine smile, her expression warm and inviting, but before she can say anything more, the soft creak of footsteps descending the stairs catches both your attention. You glance toward the staircase just as Jungkook comes into view, his presence commanding.  

He’s dressed casually yet somehow manages to look effortlessly put together in a beige knitted cardigan layered over a plain white tee, paired with light-washed baggy jeans that hang perfectly on his frame. His hair, still damp from his recent shower, clings to his forehead in soft strands.

The morning light streaming through the windows catches the subtle sheen of water in his hair, making him look... warm, almost domestic in a way that feels oddly intimate. He steps forward, sock-covered feet brushing against the floor, and suddenly, it feels like the air in the room has shifted.

"Speaking of the devil," Mrs. Jeon teases, her playful smile accompanied by a raised eyebrow in your direction.

You let out a soft giggle, as you lift the mug to your lips. The warmth of the coffee spreads through you, rich and comforting, a small distraction from the nervous flutter in your chest. It's delicious, just like everything else she's prepared since you arrived, a subtle testament to her care and hospitality.

"Oh, talking about me already?" Jungkook's voice pulls your attention as he strolls into the kitchen.

"Only the good things," Mrs. Jeon replies warmly, turning to grab a mug from the cabinet. She reaches for the coffee pot and fills the mug, steam curling into the air. "Good morning, sweetheart."

"Morning, Ma," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly from sleep.

Then, without warning, Jungkook steps closer, wrapping his arm casually around your shoulders. Before you can react, he leans down and presses a kiss to your cheek, the soft warmth of his lips lingering far longer in your mind than on your skin.

If Mrs. Jeon weren't standing right there, you would've shoved him away playfully. Instead, you do the only thing you can — lean into the moment, letting the weight of his arm anchor you in this charade.

Mrs. Jeon's smile doesn't falter as she watches the two of you, her gaze warm and affectionate. She hands the coffee to Jungkook, who mutters a soft thank you before taking a sip, his arm still comfortably draped around your shoulders.

He’s good at this — too good. The way his smile comes so effortlessly, the way his body instinctively leans into yours as though it’s second nature, makes it almost impossible to remember that this is all just an act, a carefully crafted part of the plan.  

You thought this would be easy. After all, Jungkook had always been just Jungkook to you — a friend, a constant presence, someone familiar and safe. But now, with the memory of his bare torso lingering stubbornly in your mind, your cheeks flush at the worst moments, and your thighs press together involuntarily when the thought sneaks back in.  

Mrs. Jeon moves gracefully around the kitchen, her voice warm and full of life as she talks about plans for the day. You nod and hum in agreement, but your mind is far away. Guilt churns like a storm in your chest, heavy and unrelenting, rising anew every time Mrs. Jeon sends a kind, approving smile your way.  

When she looks at you, it’s with such pride, as though she’s thrilled her son has found someone like you. And for a fleeting second, you almost wish it were true. You wish you could live up to the image of the person she clearly thinks you are. But you’re not. You’re just playing a part in a story she doesn’t know is fake.  

Jungkook’s hand rests casually on the back of your chair, his fingers brushing against your shoulder lightly, as if to remind you that he’s there. The touch should be comforting — it is comforting — but it also sets your nerves on fire. The warmth of him, so close, so steady, only makes the tightness in your chest worse.

The room is suffocating despite its cozy charm. The scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling breakfast mingles in the air, but it’s not enough to drown out the heaviness in your heart. Still, you press forward, past the discomfort and the guilt. If nothing else, you remind yourself, you’re doing this for him.

What was once a quiet, serene home now buzzes with warmth, laughter, and conversation. The lively energy catches you off guard, and before you can fully take it in, a high-pitched voice squeals through the air.

"Kookie!"

Your attention snaps to the source just as Jungkook's face lights up, his entire demeanor shifting into something softer, more playful.

"Jihyun!" he calls back, crouching slightly and stretching his arms wide open in anticipation.

A little girl, no older than four, comes bounding into view. She's dressed in an adorable red blouse and a denim skirt, her two space buns bouncing as she sprints toward him. Without hesitation, she flings herself into his waiting arms, colliding with him in a way that makes him stumble back a step with a playful groan.

He lifts her effortlessly, holding her securely against him as she giggles wildly. "I missed you so much," he murmurs into her shoulder, his voice tender and full of adoration.

"Me too!" she replies, her small arms wrapping tightly around his neck. The pure joy in her voice makes your chest ache in the sweetest way.

You can't help but smile as you watch the interaction, warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of Jungkook so effortlessly in his element. The way he holds her, talks to her, and grins from ear to ear — it's a side of him you don't get to see often, and it's undeniably endearing.

She pulls back slightly, her tiny hands still gripping Jungkook's shoulders as she admires his face with a bright smile. You can't help but admire her in return — her big, glossy boba eyes are so reminiscent of Jungkook's that it makes your heart squeeze. She's adorable, with a lively sparkle in her gaze and a face that's impossible not to love.

Jungkook glances at you, catching your gaze as he tilts his head slightly, silently beckoning you closer. You step forward, your hand naturally resting on his bicep as you meet his gentle smile.

"Nini, say hi," Jungkook coaxes softly, bouncing her in his arms just enough to make her giggle.

The little girl turns her attention to you, her eyes wide and curious as they meet yours. For a moment, you're captivated by the way they seem to shine, full of wonder and mischief.

You give her a warm smile and a small wave. “Hi," you say softly, your tone as gentle as the moment feels.

Her lips curl into a shy grin, her eyes crinkling at the edges as she mimics your wave and chirps, "Hi." Her voice is small and sweet, and you feel your heart melt instantly.

"This is my Nini," Jungkook says, his tone affectionate as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. He then introduces you by name, emphasizing it just enough for her to catch on.

She tilts her head slightly, testing the sound of your name on her lips. Her tiny voice repeats it, and the way she says it with a soft lilt makes you smile even wider.

"Good job," you say gently, your voice full of encouragement. "You said it perfectly."

She beams at the praise, her little giggle filling the space as she snuggles into Jungkook's chest. He scrunches his nose, fingers lightly tickling her sides, drawing more laughter from her tiny frame. The sight is endearing — so much so that it disarms you completely. This isn't the Jungkook you're used to seeing. It's a domestic, almost paternal side of him that pulls at something deep within you, leaving your thoughts to wander places they shouldn't.

You know better, but your mind betrays you. There's something about the way he holds her so effortlessly, the way his smile reaches his eyes, that stirs a warmth low in your tummy. Whatever the reason, the thought of Jungkook as a father, with kids of his own — and worse, the intrusive idea of them being your kids — leaves your face getting all hot.

Still, the thought lingers in the back of your mind, unwanted and insistent. You try to focus on anything else — the hum of conversation in the other room, the clinking of plates — but all you can see is the way Jungkook glances down at her, his love for her so visible it practically glows.

"What's up, bro!" a man exclaims, striding up to Jungkook with an easy grin, pulling him into a tight hug. Jihyun squeals, sandwiched between the two of them.

"Hey," Jungkook greets, patting the man's back with a grin of his own.  

The man’s focus shifts to you, his demeanor softening into something more formal but equally welcoming. His eyes light up with a polite curiosity, and he steps forward, extending a hand. "Hi, I’m Junghyun, Jungkook’s brother."  

You take his hand, matching his smile with one of your own as you introduce yourself. His handshake is firm yet warm, the kind that immediately puts you at ease. There’s a quiet confidence in his manner, one that seems to run in the family.  

“It’s really nice to meet you,” he says, his smile lingering as if he’s sizing you up in the most good-natured way possible.  

“Likewise,” you reply, your voice steady, though there’s a faint flutter of nerves in your chest — meeting Jungkook’s family feels like crossing an invisible threshold.  

Jihyun squirms free from Jungkook's arms, her little body wriggling with determination until she finally escapes his grasp. The moment her feet hit the floor, she reaches for you, her tiny fingers slipping into yours. She tugs at your hand — gently at first, then more insistently — as if she has something very important to show you in the living room.

"Thief!" Jungkook calls after her, feigning offense.

Jihyun only giggles, her mischievous little laugh filling the room like music. She glances back at him with a playful grin before tightening her grip on you and pulling you forward, eager and excited.

She leads you to a cozy spot on the carpet where a toy tea set is laid out, its bright colors inviting. She sits, pointing to the space across from her. As you settle down, your gaze flickers to the woman seated near you. She cradles a baby in her arms, her beauty striking but softened by the warm smile she sends your way.  

“Would you like some tea?” Jihyun asks, her voice carrying the kind of serious charm only a child could muster. She holds up the tiny porcelain teapot with both hands, her expression adorably earnest.  

You play along, grabbing the delicate toy teacup and its matching saucer, holding them forward. “Why yes, I would love some,” you reply, your tone as playful as hers.  

Jihyun’s giggle is pure delight as she mimics pouring tea, her little hands moving with exaggerated precision. You both lift your cups and take pretend sips, the air between you filled with laughter and the sweetness of a make-believe moment.  

The woman beside you watches the scene unfold with a soft chuckle, her baby gurgling quietly in her arms, adding its own tiny contribution to the cheerful atmosphere.

“You’re really great with kids,” she says, her tone sincere and appreciative.  

You glance over, returning her smile with one of your own. “Thank you. I’ve had my fair share of babysitting over the years.” Your gaze flicks to Jihyun, who’s now meticulously arranging plastic pastries on the carpet. “She’s absolutely adorable.”  

“She is,” the woman agrees, a soft laugh escaping her. “Though she can definitely be a handful when she wants to be. But she gets away with it because she’s cute.”  

You chuckle at her playful tone, shifting your gaze to the little one nestled in her arms. “And what about this one?” you ask, nodding toward the baby.  

“Much calmer,” she replies, glancing down at the tiny bundle in her arms with obvious affection. “At least for now. Ask me again when he starts walking — then I might have a different answer.”  

You chuckle, the warmth of the moment settling around you like a cozy blanket. Your gaze drifts to Jihyun, who carefully lifts her teacup to her teddy bear's snout, her tiny hands steady with concentration. The sight tugs at your heart, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"I'm Yeona, Junghyun's wife," the woman says warmly, her smile reaching her eyes as she shifts the baby slightly in her arms.

You return her smile, introducing yourself as Jungkook's girlfriend. The words feel foreign on your tongue, but not entirely unnatural.

"I've known Jungkook since he was a teenager, and I haven't seen him with someone in a long time. I know you're probably tired of hearing this by now, but we're genuinely so happy to have you here."

You tilt your head slightly, a soft warmth spreading through your chest at her sincerity. "Thank you, I'm happy to be here," you reply, your voice gentle but genuine.

The baby in her arms suddenly coos, little arms flailing as his tiny face scrunches up with curiosity. Yeona glances down at him and then back at you. "Do you wanna hold him?"

You blink in surprise. "If it's alright?"

"Of course!" she says, carefully moving to hand him over.

You extend your arms, palms open, as she passes the baby to you. His tiny weight settles against you, warm and soft. He doesn't cry or fuss, his wide, innocent eyes locking onto yours. Instead, he lets out another coo, his small hands curling in the air as if reaching for something unseen.

“Do you want kids?” Yeona asks, her tone casual but curious.  

The question catches you off guard with its directness, especially since you’ve only just met her. Yet, there’s no malice or prying in her voice — just genuine curiosity. It’s a question you realize no one has ever bothered to ask you before. Oddly enough, you appreciate her candor.  

“I do,” you admit, your voice soft but certain.  

“Good,” she replies with a knowing smile. “Because I know he does too.”  

Before you can form a response — before you can explain that you and Jungkook aren’t quite what she thinks you are — Yeona rises gracefully from her spot on the carpet, heading toward the kitchen.  

You exhale, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. That’s when you feel it: a familiar warmth pressing against your back, a weight that immediately grounds you. A chin rests lightly on your shoulder, and a hand — adorned with tattoos you’d recognize anywhere — reaches forward to gently touch the baby’s nose.  

Just then, the baby in your arms fusses, his tiny hands swatting at Jungkook’s fingers as if to protest the playful intrusion. Jungkook chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. You glance back at him, a playful glare in your eyes.  

“Stop it,” you whisper with mock sternness, shifting the baby slightly to soothe him. But Jungkook only grins, clearly enjoying the little moment.  

The thought of leaving this — leaving them — in a few months presses heavy on your chest. This family dynamic, this love and connection, feels so genuine. And yet, deep down, you know your place here isn’t meant to last.

But the warmth of Jungkook’s presence, the ease of the laughter surrounding you, makes it harder to remember that this is all an act. A role you’re playing, despite how genuine it feels. Despite how often they tell you how happy they are to have you here.

The sun goes down, and the Christmas lights strung all around the house cast a soft, warm glow that dances across the walls. Their gentle twinkle feels almost magical, a comforting contrast to the slight edge of tension creeping into the evening. The dinner hour is drawing near, and with it, Misa’s arrival looms closer.  

But despite the weight of anticipation in the air, Jungkook feels a surprising calmness wash over him — much calmer than he had been just days before. Maybe it’s his niece laughing her lungs away, a sweet distraction that tugs his focus away from the knot of worry in his chest. Or maybe it’s watching you, seamlessly blending into his family like you’ve belonged here all along. The sight of you laughing with his sister-in-law in the kitchen stirs something in him he hasn’t felt in a while — something warm, soft, and a little dizzying.  

His gaze follows you as you make your way toward him, a playful smile tugging at your lips. You settle onto the couch next to him, your closeness becomes all too apparent. Your knees are bent, legs resting lightly on his thigh. His arm stretches out along the back of the couch, hovering just behind your shoulders.  

The space between you is minimal — comfortable in a way that feels almost... intimate. It’s the kind of closeness that real couples share, a moment so effortlessly tender it catches him off guard.  

But he isn’t uncomfortable. Far from it. There’s a quiet ease in how natural this feels, and for a moment, he lets himself savor it. This — whatever this is — doesn’t feel like an act at all.

“Warming up quickly, aren’t you?” Jungkook teases, his big, round eyes glinting with amusement, the soft glow of the lights catching on his lip piercings.  

“Well, I’m considered family here, so I kind of have to,” you joke, giggling softly at the way his eyes widen in mock surprise. “No, but seriously,” you continue, your voice lighter now, “everyone is very nice and welcoming.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it here,” he says, his tone softer, sincerity threading through the words.  

“Me too,” you reply with a gentle smile, a warmth blooming in your chest that you try not to overthink.

Your gaze drops to Jihyun, who is engrossed in her dolls on the living room floor. Toys are scattered all around her, but she's focused on the one in her hand, turning it this way and that. You can't help but smile softly, your attention anchored to her every movement.

Jungkook doesn't look away. His eyes remain on you, not the child or the cluttered mess around her, but you. He watches the way your expression softens, the way a small, unspoken tenderness lights up your features as you watch Jihyun.

And for him, that's all there is. The conversations buzzing faintly in the kitchen, the faint tick of the clock on the wall, even the weight of the evening ahead — it all fades away.

But then your focus shifted. Your gaze lifted from Jihyun to the new arrivals at the door, and instinctively, his followed.  

And there she was.  

Misa.  

Her hair is different now. Gone is the bold cherry red that once defined her vibrant, carefree spirit, the color she wore like a crown in high school. Instead, her hair is sleek and black, the deep shade a striking contrast to the one he remembered so well. It gives her an air of elegance, of maturity, but there’s still something undeniably familiar about her — the subtle tilt of her head, the curve of her lips when she smiles.

She looks older, more refined, yet still unmistakably herself, as if time had simply smoothed out the edges of the girl he once knew so intimately. It’s like flipping through the pages of an old, beloved book, only to find that some of the words have changed. There’s nostalgia, yes, but also an overwhelming sense of uncertainty that settles in his chest, heavy and persistent.

That smile. The same one he loved for years. Those eyes, the ones that once held his world in their gaze. Her politeness, her grace — they’re all still there, but it’s as though everything else is different now. The way she moves, the way she carries herself. It’s familiar, yes, but also strangely foreign, like he’s looking at someone he used to know but hasn’t seen in far too long.

It confuses him. He should be excited. But he’s not. Because this isn’t the Misa he remembers. This is someone else entirely — someone he doesn’t know how to reach.

When she approaches, he stands from the couch, his hand instinctively reaching for yours. You take it, the gesture both reassuring and strange, and stand beside him as she makes her way toward them.

"Hi," she says, her voice soft, but with that unmistakable warmth he’s always known.

It’s a simple greeting, but it hits him like a wave. For a moment, he freezes. The words don’t come as easily as they once did. She’s standing there in front of him, and yet, it feels as if there’s an entire ocean between them.

"Hi," he responds, his voice a little breathless, as if his mind has been running a marathon trying to find the right words to say.

“It’s been a while,” she says, her smile warm, genuine.

He chuckles awkwardly, the sound forced but heartfelt. "It has. How’ve you been?"

“I’m doing good,” she replies, nodding slightly, her expression soft but sincere. There's a certain calmness about her now, an ease that shows in her eyes, and it hits him all at once — she’s doing well. Without him. Without ever needing him. "And you?"

He nods, but the smile doesn’t come. It’s a stiff, practiced motion, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "Me too."

Her smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker of something in her gaze, something he can’t quite place. It’s fleeting, gone before he can analyze it. Her attention shifts to you then, and for the briefest of moments, he’s left to stand there, caught between the past and the present, unsure of which direction to take.

"Hi, I’m Misa," she says, her tone warmer now as she extends a hand towards you.

You take her hand with your free one, your smile genuine but soft, offering your name as you introduce yourself. Misa’s grip is firm but warm, and she smiles, the edges of her eyes crinkling in a way that reminds you of someone who’s seen the world and learned how to navigate it with grace.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” she says sincerely, her voice calm but warm, like a gentle breeze that carries a subtle weight.

“You too,” you smile, matching her warmth.

You take a moment to observe Misa as she stands before you, and it’s hard not to admit she’s undeniably beautiful. The way her features seem to fall into place so effortlessly, how her smile is radiant but reserved, just enough to pull you in without revealing everything. It’s easy to see why Jungkook was so captivated by her in the past.

Now, seeing her in person, it’s like the last piece of the puzzle has fallen into place. The woman behind the stories, behind the name that always seemed to linger in his conversations, now standing right in front of you.

It’s almost surreal, meeting her. There’s a strange satisfaction in finally putting a face to the name that you’ve heard so much about. The realization settles over you like a quiet understanding. She’s beautiful, yes, but there’s something else too — a softness, a strength, an elegance that feels like it has been built over years of lived experience.

“Well, I won’t keep you two,” she says with a smile, her voice warm but carrying a certain finality. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you and Jungkook reply in unison, the words almost automatic, yet carrying their own weight as she turns to greet the others. Her presence lingers in the air, the faint scent of her perfume still hanging in the space where she stood.

Jungkook’s eyes follow Misa as she greets the others with that same effortless charm. But it’s different now. The girl he once knew, the one who filled his thoughts with reckless dreams and laughter, isn’t here anymore. The girl in front of him is someone else — someone more polished, more refined, and maybe a little bit distant. 

He feels it, that ache in his chest, a tug of something he can’t quite name. It’s like he’s mourning the loss of someone, of a version of Misa that only existed in the past. The way she used to laugh, how she would look at him with eyes full of mischief and warmth. That’s the girl he remembers, the one he never thought he’d lose touch with.

But now, the girl who used to be his best friend, the one he could confide in, is standing just a few feet away from him, and he doesn’t know her anymore. Not really. The way she’s carrying herself, the way her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes when she looks at him — he’s lost that closeness, that ease they once shared. It’s like she's become a stranger wrapped in familiarity.

And it hurts more than he thought it would. He feels it deep in his bones, this shift, this subtle but undeniable change. He thought he was ready for this moment, ready to see her again. But nothing prepares you for the feeling of watching someone you once knew inside and out transform into someone unrecognizable.

Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightens involuntarily, his eyes following Misa as she moves through the room, laughing with the others, her attention elsewhere. His chest feels tight, and the weight of the years spent apart suddenly hits him like a wave. He’s standing here, surrounded by people, but it’s like he’s alone in his own thoughts, trapped in the past he can’t quite shake off.

“You okay?” he hears your voice, soft and gentle. You’re looking at him with concern, and for a moment, it feels like you’re the only thing grounding him in the present.

He swallows, trying to push the tightness in his chest away, but it lingers. “Yeah, just…” He trails off, not sure how to explain it. How do you tell someone that seeing her again feels like losing her all over again? That the version of Misa he’s been holding onto for all these years is gone, and he doesn’t know how to navigate the space between them anymore?

“Just feels… different,” he admits quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, as though saying the words out loud will make them too real. And maybe they already are.

The house grows livelier, the comforting scent of homemade food filling every corner.

Mrs. Jeon and Misa’s mom work side by side in the kitchen, their movements fluid and practiced. They bustle around, chopping, stirring, and laughing at the small jokes they share, not letting anyone near their territory. You, eager to lend a hand, tried multiple times to help, but Mrs. Jeon shooed you away with a gentle but firm hand, her eyes twinkling as she insisted you relax and enjoy yourself. 

Meanwhile, Jungkook, his brother, and their father are deep in conversation. Their voices rise and fall in a rhythm that feels so familiar, punctuated by bursts of laughter that echo through the house. Their father’s laughter is loud and boisterous, full of life, as he catches up with his grown sons — talking about everything from their childhood to what they’d been up to since the last time they’d all been together. It’s a rare moment, one that makes the room feel warm and full of love.

You, in contrast, are seated on the floor, a small toy in one hand as you help Jihyun build an impressive block tower. The little one giggles each time you manage to stack another piece, her tiny hands eager to mimic your movements.

Yeona and Misa sit across the room, talking softly between themselves, their conversation a quiet hum against the liveliness of the house. It’s clear they’re speaking about things you don’t fully understand — topics that feel far more mature than anything you’d normally discuss.

They carry themselves with a kind of quiet confidence, a level of poise you’ve always associated with people who’ve been through more than their fair share of life’s ups and downs. There’s a grace to how they both interact, almost as if they’ve mastered this whole adult thing without breaking a sweat.

You can’t help but feel a little out of place. There’s a maturity about them that you can’t quite match, one that makes you feel like you’re not quite there yet — like you’re still fumbling through things they’ve long since figured out. Their conversation, so natural and poised, makes you wonder how much you have yet to experience, how much you still have to learn before you can carry yourself with the same ease.

It’s not that you think they’re better, but there’s something undeniably different about how they present themselves. You wonder if you’ll ever feel as sure of yourself, as poised as they seem to be, or if you’re just going to keep stumbling along, trying to keep up.

"Auntie," Jihyun calls out, her small voice cutting through the noise in the room. You snap your head around, eyes wide, trying to process what you just heard. Did she really just call you that? The word lingers in the air like it doesn’t belong to you, like it's some unfamiliar title you’re not quite sure you deserve.

You stare at her for a moment, trying to make sense of it. Her innocent gaze is fixed on you, her small hand outstretched in an inviting gesture, as though it’s perfectly natural for her to call you that. She tilts her head slightly, her brown eyes full of trust, as she says it again, "Come with me."

A flicker of surprise crosses your face, but there's a warmth growing in your chest that you can’t ignore. Jihyun’s eager smile tugs at your heartstrings, the innocent way she looks at you, as if you’re exactly who she wanted.

You blink a few times, shaking off the surprise, and let a soft smile slip onto your lips. “Did you just call me Auntie?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

She nods enthusiastically, oblivious to the impact of the word, her small face lighting up with joy. “Yes! Come with me, Auntie.”

For a moment, you just stand there, processing her innocent certainty. It’s unexpected, yet there’s something so pure about it. You can’t help but feel a twinge of warmth spreading through you, a connection forming in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Maybe it’s the way she looks at you, or how she’s trusting you in this simple, childlike way.

A soft chuckle escapes your lips. You glance around the room, half-expecting someone to laugh or correct her, but when nothing comes, you realize that, for Jihyun, this just makes sense. 

With a fond smile, you step forward, your heart lighter. “Okay,” you say, taking her small hand in yours, letting her lead you to whatever adventure she has planned.

Her tiny hands wrap around a few of your fingers, tugging you along with her insistent little grip. You let her lead, smiling softly at her enthusiasm as she weaves through the crowd in the living room and drags you toward the kitchen. When you reach the archway that frames the transition between the two spaces, she halts abruptly, turning to you with wide, innocent eyes.

"Stay here," she commands with all the authority a child her size can muster before darting off again.

Confused but amused, you lean against the archway, watching her scurry away. Moments later, she reappears, this time with Jungkook. He's laughing softly, his brow furrowed as he follows her like he doesn't have a choice.

"Nini, what are you doing?" he asks, his voice tinged with playful exasperation.

She doesn't answer, not until she's positioned him squarely in front of you. Then, she takes a step back, clapping her little hands together as though presenting her masterpiece.

"Mistletoe!" she exclaims triumphantly, pointing above you.

Your jaw drops, eyes immediately darting upward. Sure enough, hanging from the archway is a small sprig of mistletoe, placed there at some point in the evening's festivities.

Jungkook chuckles, his laughter low and rumbling. "You sneaky little-" He reaches out to grab her, but she squeals and darts away, her giggles echoing through the house. She runs straight to her grandfather, climbing onto his lap.

Jungkook's dad grins, his hand resting protectively on her head as she peeks out. "It's tradition, guys," he says with a laugh, his tone light and teasing.

"Come on, this isn't appropriate," Jungkook protests, rubbing the back of his neck. His ears are slightly pink, though he keeps his composure.

"Since when were you so shy?" Junghyun teases, his tone light and playful as he watches the scene unfold. There's a mischievous glint in his eyes, clearly amused by his daughter's antics and Jungkook's uncharacteristic hesitation.

"Hyung," Jungkook mutters, his jaw tightening as he throws his brother a sharp look. But it only fuels Junghyun's grin.

"She's just trying to spread some Christmas spirit," Junghyun continues, feigning innocence but failing to hide his amusement.

Jungkook is respecting your boundary, you know he is. He remembers what you said — no kissing.

But standing here, with his eyes flickering to yours, the laughter of his family around you, and the weight of his presence so close, the rule you set suddenly feels... unnecessary.

Your gaze drops to his lips, just for a second, and you realize the thought doesn't terrify you like it did before. Kissing him wouldn't be bad. In fact, it feels like the only thing that would make sense in this moment.

Jungkook clears his throat, his voice quieter when he speaks. "We don't have to-"

But before he can finish, you take a step closer, your arms instinctively finding their way around his neck. His words falter, replaced by a breath caught in his throat, as your lips press softly against his.

The living room erupts instantly — dramatic whoops and cheers filling the air. Jihyun squeals in delight, clapping her hands as if she's just orchestrated the most important moment of the year. Her giggles echo above the noise, the proud little culprit reveling in her success.

Jungkook freezes for the briefest of moments, his body tensing under your touch, as if unsure whether to let himself lean into this. But then, slowly, he softens, melting into the kiss. His lips are soft, warmer than you expected, and there's a gentle hesitance in the way he responds — like he's carefully toeing the line, wary of your boundaries but still allowing himself to savor the moment.

The world seems to narrow to just the two of you, the noise of the room fading into a distant hum. His hand slides to your waist, a light but steady anchor, as if he's holding himself back just a little.

You're the first to pull away, a sudden awareness creeping in as the cheers and playful jeers of the room remind you just how many people witnessed that moment. A kiss like that, even if innocent enough, feels a little too bold in front of his entire family. No one really wants to see their son or brother making out with their significant other.

Jungkook looks at you, his lips pink and slightly swollen, cheeks flushed with heat, and his dark eyes still locked on you like you'd just turned his entire world upside down. The intensity of his gaze sends a wave of warmth through you, but you brush it off with a soft laugh, breaking the tension as you glance toward Jihyun.

"You're a little drama starter, aren't you?" you tease, scrunching your nose playfully at her.

Jihyun, as proud of herself as ever, lets out a delighted squeal and climbs off her grandfather's lap, running away from you before you can reach her. You laugh, chasing after her for a moment, her giggles filling the room as she darts behind her dad for safety.

Jungkook stays where he is, still rooted in place, dazed and a little shell-shocked. He watches as you effortlessly transition from teasing his niece to chatting easily with his family, your warmth radiating in a way that fills the room. You blend in so naturally, as though you've been a part of his world forever.

And that's when it hits him — how easily you've warmed up to everyone, how seamlessly you've become a part of his family's dynamic. He can't help the soft smile tugging at his lips as he watches you, his heart full but uneasy, knowing moments like these are only temporary.

Then his eyes flicker to the reason why you're here. Misa sits quietly on the couch, her posture relaxed as she watches the scene unfold with a faint smile on her lips. Her gaze follows you as you playfully chase after Jihyun, your laughter filling the room. The sight of you, so at ease, so vibrant, draws everyone's attention — even hers.

For a moment, Jungkook feels a twinge of something familiar, something that once drove him to the edges of heartbreak. Seeing Misa here, so poised and serene, was supposed to reignite the ache, the longing for what he once had.

But it doesn’t. And he’s beginning to realize why.

The rest of the night flowed smoothly, a seamless blend of good food, warm laughter, and light-hearted conversations that filled the Jeon household.

Dinner was amazing, every dish perfectly cooked thanks to Mrs. Jeon and Misa’s mom. You sat next to Jungkook at the table, his arm brushing against yours occasionally, a quiet reassurance of his presence. Jihyun had insisted on sitting on your other side, her boundless energy keeping you entertained throughout the meal as she chattered away about everything and nothing.  

But like all good things, the evening eventually wound down. Plates were cleared, leftovers were packed, and the gentle hum of conversation turned into goodbyes. Tomorrow, you and Jungkook would be leaving, heading back to your lives where the pretense of being a couple wouldn’t follow.  

You crouched down to hug Jihyun for as long as you could, her small arms clutching you tightly. The thought of this being the only family event you’d attend, knowing you wouldn’t see her anymore, stung in a way you hadn’t anticipated. She burrowed into your embrace, her sleepy form warm and soft against you.  

Her dad gently took her from your arms, whispering for her to give you one last goodbye. Jihyun’s tiny voice murmured a goodbye before she rested her head on her father’s shoulder, her eyes already fluttering shut.  

You watched as their car pulled out of the driveway, the taillights fading into the darkness. A frown crept onto your face as a quiet sigh escaped your lips. Jungkook’s hand moved to your back, his touch steady and comforting, rubbing slow circles to ease the weight of your thoughts.  

A familiar voice broke the moment. “It was nice meeting you again, truly,” Misa said, stepping closer.  

You turned to her, offering a polite smile. “You too.”  

Her gaze shifted to Jungkook, a subtle hesitation flickering in her expression before she spoke. “Can I talk to you for a second?”  

Jungkook’s eyes immediately darted to you, as if seeking your approval or reassurance.  

“Take him,” you said lightly, flashing a small smile in Misa’s direction before meeting his gaze. “I’ll be upstairs.”  

As you disappeared into the house, the door clicked shut behind you, leaving Jungkook and Misa alone on the porch.  

The silence between them stretched uncomfortably, broken only by the rhythmic chirping of crickets. Jungkook shoved his hands into his coat pockets, his breath clouding in the chilly night air. Across from him, Misa crossed her arms, pulling her coat tighter around herself in a futile attempt to ward off the cold.  

“I knew this would be awkward, but I feel like… I owe you a conversation. After everything,” Misa starts, her voice tentative, as if she’s unsure whether she’s even allowed to say this.

Jungkook lets out a humorless laugh, his breath fogging in the cold air. “You didn’t think to do this… oh, I don’t know – nine years ago?”  

His tone is laced with sarcasm, but the hurt cuts through it unmistakably. Misa flinches at his words, and for a fleeting moment, guilt flashes across her face, making her look smaller than she usually does.  

“I loved you, Jungkook…” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. “But we were so young. It was bound to happen.”  

“No, it wouldn’t have!” Jungkook snaps, his frustration bubbling over. “If you really loved me, you would’ve made it work!”  

Misa’s eyes glisten under the porch light, and her voice trembles as she responds, “You think I wanted to leave you? I couldn’t stop crying for years, Jungkook! But I was seventeen, and I was terrified! Walking away was the best thing for both of us!”  

“It destroyed me, Misa!” he fires back, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “You didn’t do what was best for us. You were just selfish.”  

“Selfish?” she retorts, her voice rising as she takes a step closer. “Jungkook… we were kids! We lived miles apart. How would that have worked? You think it was easy for me to make that choice? It wasn’t ideal for me either, but it was what would’ve made the most sense.”  

Jungkook shakes his head, his hands balled into fists in his pockets. He lowers his gaze to his shoes, his voice softening into a near whisper. “We could’ve made it work…”  

“I’m sorry,” Misa says, her tone laden with sincerity. “I really am.”  

For a moment, silence falls between them, the kind that feels both heavy and oddly freeing. Jungkook finally lifts his eyes to meet hers, searching her face for something he isn’t sure he’ll find.  

“Are you happy?” he asks, his voice quieter now, almost gentle.  

Misa's lips curve into a small smile, one tinged with both pride and nostalgia. "I am. I recently finished my last year of med school," she says, her voice soft but steady. "It was... tough, but I did it." She pauses, as if letting herself truly feel the weight of her accomplishment before adding, "And... I'm engaged now, so yeah, I am really happy."

Jungkook smiles — a genuine, heartfelt smile that reaches his eyes, yet beneath it lingers something else, something quieter. A twinge of jealousy, not because he believes it should have been him, but because she has moved on while he remains tethered to the past. But despite it all, he is truly happy for her.

"That's amazing," he says, his voice genuine, though slightly hushed. "I'm... I'm proud of you."

“Thank you,” she says, her tone soft. “How about you?”  

His mind races through everything he’s endured since Misa left — the heartbreak, the years of questioning, and now, the realization that he’s no longer the person who once pined for her. “I don’t know…” he finally mutters, his voice distant.  

Misa tilts her head slightly, studying him. “Is she not making you happy?” she asks softly, referring to you.  

There’s no point in lying anymore.

His response is immediate, but it comes with a shake of his head. “We aren’t together.”  

Misa’s eyebrows raise in genuine surprise. “Really?” She crosses her arms, the disbelief clear in her voice. “Could’ve fooled me.”  

Jungkook exhales sharply, almost laughing at the absurdity of the situation. "I brought her here because I knew you would be here."

The weight of his confession lingers in the cold night air, his words a reluctant admission of vulnerability. Misa tilts her head slightly, her expression softening as the meaning behind his actions clicks into place.

"Well," she says, pulling her hand from her coat pocket with a subtle flourish, revealing the diamond ring on her finger, "I hate to break it to you, but it didn't work."

Jungkook chuckles under his breath, shaking his head at himself, at the situation, at how ridiculous it all feels now. Misa laughs with him, the tension breaking like the first crack of sunlight after a long storm.  

“She did warn me. I guess I should’ve known better,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.  

“Yeah, probably,” she teases lightly, her smile softening as she looks at him. “But hey… at least you tried.”  

Jungkook nods slowly, his gaze lingering on the door as a faint smile graces his lips. “Yeah… being with her didn’t seem all that bad, though,” he murmurs, more to himself than to Misa.  

Misa smiles knowingly, crossing her arms as she tilts her head. “Go for it,” she says softly. “You deserve happiness too, Jungkook.”  

He lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I just… I don’t want to ruin things between us. What if it’s too much, too fast? What if it’s not what she wants?”  

Misa raises an eyebrow, her tone light but firm. “Well, if rejection is what you’re scared of, I’ll tell you right now — that kiss was anything but friendly.”  

Jungkook chuckles nervously, his cheeks warming as he shakes his head. “You think so?”  

“I know so,” she replies confidently, her smile turning teasing. “Trust me, Jungkook. If you’re even half as obvious with her as you were with me, she knows. And honestly? She probably feels the same.”  

Her words hang in the air, filling him with equal parts hope and doubt. Jungkook glances at her, taking in the sincerity in her expression. For a moment, neither of them says anything, the quiet sounds of the night settling around them. Then, Misa steps forward and wraps her arms around him.  

He returns the embrace, his hands resting lightly on her back. “Thanks, Misa,” he says, his voice muffled against her shoulder.  

She pulls back just enough to look at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You don’t need my thanks,” she replies softly, her tone carrying the warmth of an old friend. Then, with a playful smirk, she adds, “Just don’t mess it up.”  

He huffs a quiet laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I’ll try not to.”  

And then, with one last glance at him, Misa steps away. The sound of her heels clicking against the pavement echoes softly in the quiet night as she climbs into her car. The engine hums to life, and within moments, she's driving off into the darkness, her taillights disappearing down the street.

Jungkook exhales, watching as his breath dissipates into the cold night air. The weight he had carried for so long — the lingering feelings of the past, the questions left unanswered — fades, piece by piece. Misa's departure isn't a loss; it's a quiet closing of a door that had been left ajar for far too long.  

He turns back toward the house, the warm glow from the windows beckoning him inside. Jungkook steps through the door, closing it behind him, ready to run toward whatever comes next.

You were upstairs, unwinding from the day. Just as you were about to head to the shower, Jungkook makes his way into the room, closing the door behind him.

"How was it?" you ask, sitting on the edge of the bed, your gaze flicking toward him as he closes the door behind him.

"Good," he says simply, but his tone is distant, as though his mind is somewhere else.

Your brows knit together. "You sure?"

He doesn't answer immediately, his jaw working as if he's chewing over his next words. Finally, he speaks, but it's not what you expected. "Why did you do it?"

You blink, confused. "Do what?"

"Kiss me," he says, his voice steady.

You chuckle softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Everyone was watching us, Kook. And Misa. It would've been obvious if we didn't kiss."

He shakes his head, taking a step closer. "You didn't do it because of Misa, did you?" he says, his tone firm.

You tilt your head, looking up at him, and a small smile curves on your lips. It's playful, teasing, and it's enough to make his heart stutter. That smile tells him everything he needs to know, but still, you say it anyway. "It was just a kiss."

He narrows his eyes slightly, his lips twitching into a smirk. "You said no kissing," he reminds you, leaning in just enough to make the air between you crackle with tension.

"Well, I changed my mind," you reply, your voice light, though there's a hint of something more in it.

"Because?" he presses, tilting his head slightly, his smirk widening as he waits for your answer.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance. "Because it was easier than explaining why we weren't kissing under the mistletoe."

"Hmm," he hums, unconvinced, taking a step closer. He's so close now that you have to tilt your head further to meet his gaze. "That's the story you're going with?"

"That's the truth," you say, holding his gaze, though your lips betray you with a small, mischievous smile.

His tongue runs across his bottom lip as he chuckles softly. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

"I've nothing to lie about," you say, your voice steady, though the spark in your eyes betrays your composure.

"Yeah?" he asks, his tone low, challenging, as he steps even closer.

You nod, humming softly, your confidence unwavering.

And then, without warning, he crashes his lips onto yours. The kiss is sudden, stealing the breath right out of your lungs, catching you completely off guard. His hand rests behind your neck, pulling you into him.

For a moment, you freeze, your mind racing to process what just happened, but then instinct takes over. Your hands find his chest, gripping his shirt to steady yourself as you melt into the kiss. His lips are warm, insistent but not rough, like he's been waiting for this moment and isn't about to let it slip away.

When he finally pulls back, he's slightly breathless, his dark eyes locked on yours, a smirk tugging at the corners of his swollen lips. "There's no mistletoe. What's your excuse this time, huh?"

You narrow your eyes at him, your breath uneven as you glare at his teasing grin. "Just shut the fuck up already," you snap, grabbing his face with both hands and crashing your lips onto his again.

He barely has time to react, but when he does, his hands grip your waist, pulling you even closer. He smiles into the kiss, that cocky, boyish grin you've come to know so well. It only spurs you on, your fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss deepens, all the tension, teasing, and unspoken words melting away into something neither of you could deny anymore.

"God, you're bossy," he mumbles, his tone playful but laced with something much deeper.

"And you talk too much," you retort, your voice muffled as you kiss him again, determined to shut him up properly this time.

“Do I?” he asks, his voice a low, husky almost-moan against your lips.  

You hum in response, your breath hitching as his fingers trace a featherlight path down your spine. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, searching, teasing.  

“Yeah?” he asks again, tilting his head, that signature smirk tugging at his lips — the kind that tells you he’s up to no good.  

“Yes, Jungkook,” you breathe, the impatience laced in your voice only making his smirk widen.  

His fingers move to the buckle of your belt, unlooping the strap with agonizing slowness, his knuckles grazing the bare skin of your stomach as he works the metal free. The sound of it sliding through the loops is deliberate, a slow tease, a promise.  

“I should really stop talking then, shouldn’t I?” he murmurs, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your parted lips.  

“Yeah, you should,” you say with a knowing smile, rolling your hips forward slightly, urging him on.  

His fingers move with purpose now, popping open the button of your jeans before dragging the zipper down. His hands, warm and firm, press against your hips as he kneels slightly, hooking his fingers into the waistband and peeling the denim down your legs. The fabric pools at your ankles, leaving you in your underwear, the cool air against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you. 

Jungkook’s grip on your hips tightens as he pulls you effortlessly to the edge of the bed. A soft giggle escapes you, a playful attempt at resistance as you nudge him with your foot, but he catches your ankle with ease. His thumb traces over your skin, a slow, deliberate motion before he dips his head, pressing a featherlight kiss to your ankle.  

The warmth of his lips trails up your calf, each kiss slower than the last. His hands glide along your legs, fingers pressing into your thighs as he moves higher, his breath hot against your skin. A shiver runs through you, anticipation building with every unhurried touch.  

Pausing at the inside of your thigh, he lets his lips linger, the heat of his breath sending a ripple of want through your body. His fingers hook beneath the waistband of your underwear, dragging the fabric down inch by inch, his eyes fixed on you the entire time. The room feels smaller, the space between you charged, heavy with something unspoken but undeniably felt.  

He takes his time, savoring every inch of exposed skin, as if committing the moment to memory. Your body hums under his touch, muscles tensing in expectation. His hands, his lips — every movement feels intentional, like he’s unraveling you piece by piece, without a single word spoken between you.

He leans back in, his lips grazing your skin as he presses another lingering kiss to the inside of your thigh, the warmth of his breath ghosting over you and making your muscles tense in anticipation. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly in place as his mouth finally descends, lips parting to taste you without hesitation. 

The first brush of his lips against your clit is teasing, and when he seals them around the sensitive bundle of nerves, the contrast of heat and the chill of his lip piercings sends a sharp jolt through you. A strangled gasp escapes, your back arching instinctively as pleasure pulses through you.

Your fingers weave into his hair, brushing the strands back to get a better view of him. His brows are furrowed in deep concentration, like a man savoring his favorite meal, every movement of his tongue precise, every suck deliberate. His grip on your thighs tightens as if he’s anchoring himself to you, determined to keep you right where he wants you.  

Your thumb traces over the scar on his cheek, a gentle contrast to the heat pooling in your core. “Much better,” you tease, your voice barely above a breath, though the playful lilt doesn’t go unnoticed.  

At that, his gaze flickers up to meet yours, dark and laced with something dangerous. His eyes lower in a silent warning — one you barely have time to process before he hums deeply against your clit, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure straight through you. Your body jolts, fingers tightening in his hair, but he doesn’t let up. If anything, he redoubles his efforts, dragging you even deeper into the fire.

You push your hips further into his face, desperation guiding your movements, and he welcomes it — welcomes you. His mouth works you over with relentless hunger, tongue flicking and curling, lips sealing around your clit with dizzying precision. His nose presses into you, dragging against your cunt with each movement, and you know he probably can't breathe.

But Jungkook doesn't give a fuck.

If anything, he buries himself deeper, groaning as he drowns in you, hands gripping your thighs like he never wants to leave. He's proud, eager, insatiable — wholly unbothered by the thought of suffocating between your legs. If this is how he dies, he'll do it happily.

You throw your head back, biting down on your lip to stifle the moans threatening to spill from your mouth. The pleasure is overwhelming, your body trembling beneath his relentless tongue, but you can't risk being loud — not with Jungkook's parents somewhere in the house.

The walls are thin, far too thin, and the last thing you need is for them to hear what's happening behind this closed door. Your gasps come out shaky, uneven, each one catching in your throat as you fight to stay quiet. But Jungkook isn't making it easy. He hums against you again, the vibrations shooting through your core, and when your fingers tighten in his hair, he only doubles down, eating you like he doesn't care if you get caught.

Despite Jungkook's reckless determination to die between your thighs, his body betrays him. He suddenly pulls away, chest heaving as he gulps in deep, heavy breaths. His face glistens with your slick, flushed from the lack of air and the heat of the moment. His ears burn red, lips swollen and glossy, eyes dark with raw hunger. But he doesn't waste a second — he leans back in, stealing one more kiss from your throbbing core before standing.

His hands go straight to his belt, fumbling in his urgency, fingers nearly trembling as he rips it off. His pants and boxers are shoved down in one swift motion, and his cock springs free — thick, flushed, the pretty pink tip leaking evidence of his arousal. It stands tall, curved slightly, twitching as he wraps a firm hand around the base.

A groan of relief slips from his lips as he strokes himself, his head tipping back for a moment before his gaze locks onto you again, hungry and unashamed.

"That hard from eating some pussy?" you tease, smirking as you watch him.

Jungkook lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head as his grip tightens around his cock. "You should be honored. I nearly nutted in my fucking pants doing that." He steps closer, lips curling into a smirk of his own. "Take your shirt off."

You smirk, tilting your head slightly. "You first."

Jungkook huffs out a playful scoff, rolling his eyes, but he listens. With one swift motion, he reaches behind his back, gripping the fabric of his sweater before yanking it over his head and tossing it aside. His toned chest and arms flex with the movement, muscles rippling beneath his inked skin. The sight alone makes your stomach clench with anticipation.

But what really gets you is the way he immediately wraps his hand around his cock again, resuming his slow, deliberate strokes. He's getting harder, impossibly so, the veins along his shaft becoming more pronounced. His eyes stay locked on you, dark and hooded, drinking in every inch of your body like he's imagining all the ways he's about to ruin you.

"Your turn," he murmurs, voice thick with desire.

You take your time, dragging out the moment as you lift your sweater over your head, letting it drop to the floor. The cool air prickles against your skin, your bare shoulders exposed, but your bra still remains, teasing him just enough.

Jungkook's jaw flexes. His thumb swipes over the tip of his cock, spreading the precum leaking from his slit, but his patience is thinning.

"All of it," he commands, voice firm. There's no room for argument.

You reach behind your back, fingers deftly working the clasp of your bra. The moment it unhooks, the straps slip from your shoulders, the fabric going slack against your skin. With a slow, deliberate motion, you pull it off completely and let it drop to the floor, joining the rest of your discarded clothes.

Jungkook's breath stutters. His strokes slow for a moment as his eyes drink you in, dark and full of heat, pupils blown wide with unfiltered desire. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, jaw tightening as he exhales sharply through his nose.

Feeling like a third wheel between Jungkook and his cock, you slip off the bed and onto your knees before him. His brows furrow slightly when you wrap your fingers around his wrist, guiding his hand away from his aching length. His cock twitches in the cool air, glistening with precum, and you don’t hesitate — leaning in, you drag your tongue slowly from the thick base of his shaft up to his flushed, leaking tip.  

A sharp breath escapes him, his chest rising and falling in anticipation. He lets you take control for a moment, but then, instead of letting you simply pull his wrist away, his fingers slide down to lace with yours, gripping your hand in a silent, desperate plea. Your lips part, taking him in, your tongue swirling over the sensitive head before pressing flat against the underside. 

“Fuck… gonna- make me fucking cum already, baby,” he groans, voice thick with pleasure, his grip tightening around your hand.  

But just as he teeters on the edge, you pull off with a wet pop, a teasing glint in your eyes as you look up at him. His cock twitches in protest, a string of spit connecting your lips to his flushed tip.  

“Want you to fuck me,” you murmur, voice laced with need.  

Jungkook exhales a shaky breath, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips. “Yeah?”  

You nod, biting your lip, heat simmering between you.  

His jaw flexes as his eyes darken. “God, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about fucking you.” His grip on your hand tightens briefly before he lets go. “Get on the bed, baby.”  

Your heart pounds as you stand, climbing onto the mattress, anticipation thrumming through your veins. He doesn’t waste a second — his lips crash against yours, the force of his kiss sending you toppling onto the bed. His body presses flush against yours, a delicious heat radiating between you as he deepens the kiss.

Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, breathless, his forehead nearly touching yours as he looks down between your bodies. His hand wraps around his cock, stroking himself slowly, teasingly, as if grounding himself in the moment. But then, he stills.  

“Fuck, I don’t have a condom, baby,” he murmurs, voice tight with frustration.  

You reach up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over the flushed heat of his skin. “It’s fine,”  

His dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, searching. “You still sure?”  

You groan, your patience hanging by a thread. “Jungkook, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m never talking to you again.”  

He chuckles, before finally giving in. His fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open as he guides himself forward, the thick, swollen head of his cock pressing against your sopping entrance. He teases you first, dragging the tip through your slick folds, spreading your arousal before finally pushing in with a slow, deliberate thrust.  

A sharp gasp rips from your throat as he stretches you open, inch by inch, your walls clenching around him as they struggle to accommodate his sheer size. The delicious burn of fullness has your back arching, your thighs trembling around his waist as he buries himself deeper. Your nails bite into the inked skin of his shoulder, desperate for something to ground you.  

“Gosh, you’re so big,” you moan, voice breaking as pleasure swirls in your stomach.  

Jungkook groans, his head dropping for a moment before he lifts it, watching the way your body takes him in. His jaw clenches, restraint evident in the way his fingers tighten on your thighs.  

“You can take it,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “I know you can.”  

He presses in further, inch by inch, until he bottoms out, the head of his cock nudging deep inside you. A deep, guttural moan escapes him as he stills, giving you a moment to adjust, his thumbs stroking over your skin in a silent praise.

"Okay, you can move," you whisper, your breath shaky with anticipation, giving him the green light.  

Without hesitation, Jungkook pulls back, the thick head of his cock dragging slowly out of you, the wetness between your bodies creating a squelchy sound that fills the room. He pauses for a breath, then pushes back in, the pressure of his thick shaft sliding into you with a deep, satisfying thrust.  

Your body trembles with each movement, the slickness between you amplifying the sound of him sinking into you, the heat building in your core as his rhythm deepens. His hands grip your thighs tighter, the tension in his muscles visible as he focuses on every inch of you, filling you completely with each stroke.  

He leans down, capturing your lips in a desperate, hungry kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours as his fingers dig into your hips. His lips trail lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, along the sensitive column of your throat, until he reaches your collarbone. He latches on, sucking at the delicate skin, leaving a mark that he knows will be there in the morning.

His thrusts grow quicker, rougher, his grip on your waist tightening as he pounds into you. The bedframe slams against the wall with each movement, the rhythmic banging growing louder, impossible to ignore.

"Fuck," Jungkook grits out, a mix of pleasure and panic flickering across his face. You feel too good — too warm, too tight, too perfect — but reality crashes in. His parents are near, and the thought of them hearing what's happening in the bed he used to sleep in as a kid sends a chill down his spine. Without hesitation, he pulls out, breathing heavily as he grabs your hand. His dark eyes flicker with urgency as he tugs you up. "Get up,"

Confused, you obey nonetheless, your legs still shaky as Jungkook leads you across the room. He drops down onto the chair by his desk, spreading his legs slightly, his dark, impatient gaze locking onto yours. He holds his hands out, palms open, a silent command.

"Come here," he murmurs, guiding you with a tilt of his head.

You hesitate, glancing between him and the chair. "You serious?"

Jungkook huffs, his jaw ticking. "You want my parents to know we're fucking in here?" His fingers flex, beckoning you closer. "Hurry up, babe. A few more bounces, and I got you."

You sigh, but the heat in his eyes makes it impossible to say no. Stepping between his legs, you plant your hands on his broad shoulders for support before straddling him.

His hands immediately find your lower back, one strong arm keeping you steady while the other wraps around the base of his cock, guiding himself against your entrance.

A shudder runs through you as you sink down onto him, inch by inch, until you're seated fully in his lap, his cock buried deep inside you. His grip tightens around your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he takes control, lifting you slightly before helping you bounce on him.

The familiar coil of pleasure tightens in your stomach, overriding everything else — the growing cramp in your leg, the sharp pressure of your knees pressing into the hard wooden chair. None of it matters. All you can focus on is chasing your high, the way his cock fills you so perfectly, the delicious friction driving you closer and closer to the edge.

But Jungkook's attention is elsewhere. His eyes are locked on your tits, mesmerized by the way they bounce with every movement. His tongue darts out to wet his lips before he leans in, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth. A sharp gasp escapes you as he sucks greedily, his tongue flicking over the sensitive bud. His hands slide up your back, pressing you closer, desperate to feel as much of you as possible.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging at the dark strands, while your other hand grips his shoulder for support. His groan vibrates against your skin, sending a shiver straight through you. The heat between you is unbearable, all — consuming, and you know neither of you will last much longer.

Jungkook's hands roam lower, squeezing your ass before delivering a sharp slap that makes you jolt. He grips both cheeks, spreading them apart as he helps you move, guiding you up and down on his cock with a firm, steady hold.

His own breaths are ragged, his restraint hanging by a thread as he watches you unravel above him.

"Fuck- M'gonna cum!" you whine, your voice breaking, the desperation in your tone making his cock twitch inside you. The pleasure is too much, too overwhelming, and you can't contain your volume.

Jungkook reacts instantly, his mouth leaving your tit as his hand flies up to cover your mouth, muffling your cries before they can slip past the walls. You moan helplessly against his palm as your orgasm crashes over you, your walls clenching around his cock in tight, pulsing waves. Jungkook groans, his brows furrowing as he feels you squeeze around him, the sensation almost pushing him over the edge.

"Keep going for me, yeah?" he rasps, his voice thick with need as his fingers dig into the fat of your ass. He thrusts up to meet your movements, the rhythm growing more desperate, more frantic.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as you hum against his palm, your muffled moans vibrating against his skin. The way he fills you, stretches you, has your entire body trembling.

"Yeah, make me cum, baby," he groans, his head falling back against the chair, jaw clenched tight as he teeters on the edge.

His hand slides from your mouth to your hip, his grip tightening, fingers digging into your skin as he takes control. He guides you faster, his thrusts growing more desperate, more erratic, chasing that final, dizzying high.

Your walls flutter around him, the sensation pushing him closer, pulling him under. His breathing turns ragged, his muscles tensing beneath you as pleasure coils tight in his core.

"Fuck- just like that," he grits out, his hips snapping up to meet yours in a final, desperate push.

A few more bounces, and he breaks, a deep but quiet groan spilling from his lips as he comes, his release shooting hot and deep inside you. His hands squeeze your waist, holding you down against him as he rides out his high, every pulse of pleasure leaving him breathless.

You push his damp hair back from his sweaty forehead, your fingers combing through the strands with gentle care. His chest rises and falls beneath you, still heaving from the intensity of it all.

Leaning down, you press a soft kiss to his lips, slow and lingering, a big difference to the desperation from moments ago. Jungkook hums against your mouth, his hands sliding up your back, holding you close as he melts into the kiss.

When you pull away, his eyes flutter open, laced with exhaustion and something softer — something tender. A lazy smile tugs at his lips as he exhales a satisfied sigh.

"All this over some mistletoe," he teases, his voice still slightly breathless.

"The drama," you drawl, rolling your eyes playfully as you tease him back.

Jungkook chuckles, the sound deep and warm, vibrating against your skin. His arms tighten around you, pulling you impossibly closer as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His lips brush against your damp skin, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss there.

His cock softens inside you, but neither of you move just yet. The heat of the moment has faded, replaced by something quieter, something softer. 

“Oh!” Jungkook suddenly exclaims, his eyes lighting up as if he’s just remembered something. “I got you something.”  

You shift off of him, settling on the edge of the bed as he moves to one of the drawers. His movements are purposeful but unhurried, fingers sifting through its contents before he retrieves a long, slender gift box. He turns, extending it toward you with an expectant look.  

“You didn’t have to,” you murmur, meeting his gaze as you hesitantly take the box from his hands.  

“Just open it,” he insists, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  

With a soft breath, you lift the lid, and your heart stutters. There, nestled inside, is your necklace — whole again. The delicate chain, once broken, gleams under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, looking as flawless as the day it was first given to you.  

Your breath catches, fingers hovering over the pendant before carefully picking it up. “Kook…” you whisper, eyes lifting to his.

“I know how much it meant to you, so I got it fixed this morning,” Jungkook says softly, his voice laced with warmth. “Merry Christmas, baby.”  

Your chest tightens, emotion welling up as you blink back the tears threatening to spill. His thoughtfulness, the effort he put into something so personal to you — it means more than words can express.  

A watery smile spreads across your lips as you rise to your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck. You kiss him, a soft press of your lips against his. Then again. And once more, lingering just a little longer this time.  

You were glad you came. Even if the initial plan to make Misa jealous had failed, it didn’t matter anymore. Because, in this moment, with Jungkook, this might just be the best Christmas of your life.

© voyter 2025, all rights reserved.

[hanniebaeee]

Without you

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: lots of tears

Genre: established relationship, angst, fluff

Summary: When Hyunjin comes home after a week away for work, he finds you gone. And he's furious because you didn't say a word, just packed and left. And he knows it has everything to do with the dinner you had with his parents just before he left.

a/n: writing my pain away. I'm sorry if this is too angsty.

Hyunjin’s knuckles rapped against Jisoo’s front door with such force you feared that it might come off its hinges. You glanced at Jisoo, your face streaked with tears, your heart racing.

“Y/N!” His voice came through the door, sending a jolt of panic through your chest. “Open the damn door, or so help me, I’ll kick it down.”

Jisoo shot you a glance, silently asking if you wanted her to handle it. You just shook your head. You had to face him at some point. 

“You sure?” Jisoo asked, her protective instincts flaring.

You nodded, and she sighed before walking towards the door.

Memories of that night flashed through your mind painfully. Dinner at his parents’ place. Everything was going fine until his mum cornered you in the kitchen as you helped her put things away. She was so polite as she suggested that her son was very impulsive, and rarely thought things through.

You heart nearly stopped as she said that, because you had a feeling where this conversation was headed. And then she told you with a smile that if you really loved him, you'd stop holding him back, and let him have the life he truly deserved - a life with a Korean girl who'd fit better with his family. With him. 

And she had proceeded to pretend like everything was ok the rest of the night, while you had to do everything in your power to not break down. He was their only son. You didn't want to ruin his relationship with them, considering how wildly protective he was of you. 

The man loved you with everything in him. And Hyunjin literally wore his heart on his sleeves, and you would never knowingly do anything to agitate him. And so you'd gone home silently that night, spent a long time silently sobbing in the bathroom as he packed for a one week trip. He had multiple shows scheduled for the week, all outside Korea. 

Obviously he knew the minute you emerged from the bathroom with a smile. He had stared into your eyes, his mouth opening and closing like he desperately wanted to talk. But he had to leave in another hour, and he didn't want to start a conversation that he knew he couldn't finish before he left. So he engulfed you in a hug, kissed you deeply and told you that he loved you. And that you're his entire world. 

But sadly, that didn't make your aching insecurities vanish. Because after he left, you'd packed your own bags and called Jisoo, panicking.

He called out again, this time a little softer, but his tone was dripping with frustration.

“Jisoo, I know you’re in there. And I know she’s with you. Let me in.” he said. “Please.”

“Fine! But if you make her cry again, I'll make you suffer.” Jisoo opened the door, shooting him a glare as she moved aside. “She's in the guest room.”

Hyunjin stormed in, wearing his travel-worn hoodie and sweatpants, looking so tired, but furious at the same time. 

His sharp eyes locked onto you immediately as he stepped into the guest bedroom. Hyunjin stood there for a moment, staring at you. Your face was nearly unrecognizable - eyes swollen, skin blotchy from crying for days. You could barely keep your eyes open. 

Hyunjin’s chest rose and fell with deep breaths, and you could see the tension radiating off him. 

“You wanna explain to me what the hell is going on?” he asked finally, his voice tight with barely suppressed anger.

You tried to hold his gaze, but the intensity in his eyes was unbearable.

“Hyunjin, please don’t do this right now,” you muttered, wiping your face with the sleeve of your oversized sweater.

“Oh, we’re doing this,” he said, stalking toward you like a predator who’d just spotted its prey. He crossed his arms, towering over you. “Start talking. Now.”

You folded your arms, a weak attempt to put up a barrier. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Nothing to talk about?” He scoffed, letting out a humorless laugh. “That’s rich, considering I came home to our apartment looking like a ghost town. All your stuff gone. My gifts left behind like they were trash. And you dodging my calls?”

His voice was rising, and it was clear that more than anger, he was hurt.

“I didn’t dodge your calls,” you countered weakly, your voice breaking.

“You didn’t answer them. Or my texts,” he fired back. “What the hell, Y/N? I want you to tell me why you thought it was okay to pack your things and leave without a word."

You tried to muster the courage to stay firm, to push him away like his mother had suggested.

“I… I think we’re too different, Hyunjin.” The words tasted bitter on your tongue. “It's for the best…”

His jaw clenched, his angelic features hardening. “Bullshit.”

Your eyes widened at his bluntness, and how he took another step forward. 

“You don’t get to pull this ‘too different’ crap on me now,” he snapped. “If you don’t want to be with me anymore, fine, say that. But don’t lie to me. Is that it? You don't love me?”

“No, no,” you insisted, though your voice was shaky. “Hyunjin, please-”

“Then tell me why you cried your eyes out after that dinner,” he challenged. “Tell me why my mom’s been calling me nonstop asking if you’re okay.”

Your heart sank. Of course, he’d piece it together. He wasn’t stupid.

Hyunjin exhaled, running a hand through his short hair, his frustration giving way to something softer. “Baby, what did she say to you?”

You bit your lip, shaking your head. “Hyunjin, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters to me,” he said, his voice cracking. “It matters if it’s enough to make you leave me.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, and your eyes burned as you blinked them back.

“She loves you, Jinnie…whatever she wants for you, it's for the best…you do deserve better,” you admitted quietly. “Someone who fits into your world better than I do.”

Hyunjin let out a low curse, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. He turned away for a moment, running both hands through his hair as he paced the room, trying to calm the storm brewing inside him.

“You deserve someone who won’t hold you back.”

He froze, his gaze darkening as he asked, “You think you hold me back?”

“Hyunjin -”

“I don’t care what she said,” he snapped, cutting you off. “I’m asking you. Do you think that?”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

“Y/N,” he whispered, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “You’re my world. No one else fits better into it than you. My mom doesn’t get to decide who’s good enough for me, baby. I do. And guess what? You’re it. You’ve always been it. Don’t you see that?”

“I just…” You shook your head, your voice trembling. “I don’t want to cause problems for you. I love you too much to -”

“To what?” he interrupted, stepping closer again. His hands found your face, his touch firm but gentle as he tilted your chin up to make you look at him. “To stay? To fight for us?”

You swallowed hard, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice.

“And if my mom can’t see what we have, that’s her problem,” he continued, his tone fierce. “But you don’t get to decide for me. You don’t get to run away without even talking to me.”

You felt your resolve crumbling, your walls breaking down under the weight of his words.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you muttered, trying to push him away.

“Like what?” He smirked, his confidence creeping back. “Like I’m madly in love with you?”

“Hyunjin…” Your voice was barely audible as you mumbled, “I don't want you to regret this. Ever.”

“Don’t you dare,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Don’t you dare say that. Because it's bullshit. You’re everything to me.”

The tears flowed freely now, and you couldn’t stop them even if you tried. “But your mom -”

“I’ll handle my mom,” he growled, cutting you off again. “You’re my choice, Y/N. My family. My life.”

His words shattered the last of your resolve, and before you knew it, you were sobbing into his chest, clutching at his hoodie. He held you close, his arms wrapped around you so tight. 

“You’re mine,” he murmured against your hair, his voice trembling. “And I’m yours. Don’t ever forget that.”

You nodded against him, too overwhelmed to speak. A small tearful laugh escaped you, despite the tears still streaming down your face.

“There’s my girl,” he teased, brushing a thumb over your cheek to wipe your tears away. “Now, grab your things. Let’s go home.”

You hesitated, still unsure if you could ever face his mother again.

“Don’t worry about her,” he added, as if reading your mind. “I’ll handle it. This is not your battle, okay?”

And just like that, the weight on your chest began to lift. In that moment, nothing else mattered. It was just you and Hyunjin - two souls refusing to let go of each other.

And you knew, deep down, that you never would.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @eastjonowhere @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world

[omgthatdress]

ive been seeing people making fun of the bianca situation and calling her names and i'm so fucking disgusted by it all. his last ex talked publicly about how she had no control of her wardrobe and how he decided what she was allowed to wear in public, and bianca visibly shook her head no twice before just going emotionless and doing what she was told. it's so gross and i'm so uncomfortable with how people are actively sharing the pictures of it everywhere. it's basically revenge porn imo.

yeah. I hate to be an internet "body language expert" and say "it's an obvious cry for help!" on an extremely blank face, but he truth is for all I know, Bianca could be a sub with an exhibitionism fetish and this is extremely her thing.

Like in ANY other situation I'd say it was cunt (literally!)

BUT

Kanye is famous for being mentally stable and having an extremely healthy relationship with women (sarcasm). I just DID NOT like the whole vibe of the thing and I was just like.... yeah I do not want to look back on this in ten years and seriously regret posting those images.

I remember during Britney Spears and Amy Winehouse's lowest days, Craig Ferguson said that his experience with alcoholism made him extremely sympathetic for them and because of that he was NOT going to be talking about them on his show and I thought that was brave as FUCK and I wish more late night hosts had the same decency because seriously NO ONE ELSE was out there saying "maybe we shouldn't be doing this."

Some time before Liam Payne's death I made fun of him for getting bad plastic surgery and now I feel fucking horrible about it because I had absolutely no idea the extent to which he was suffering. Had I known, I never would have made those posts.

In this case, I DO have some idea of how abusive Kanye can be and how much his mental health has unraveled, and I don't want to be a part of perpetuating that.

[mugzymiik]

this is why ive started taking screenshots and pictures and literally everything of anything and everything that could be turned around on me so that if it is turned around on me i have legitimate proof. even the shit that nobody would question ever 😭😭

call me paranoid (i am but thats irrelevant here) but ive had to use it twice

in an argument about toxicity in a server i used to be in. it's funny because they deleted a message that I'd brought up as a point mid-argument and went "that wasnt me bro" like Aha! waggles my finger. i have photo evidence of you saying "sorry that was me lol" babygirl. i got banned from said server by them fun fact (they were an admin which makes this even worse in fact) and i am now unbanned but im still never going back there 😭🙏 (also the fact that they immediately thought i was coming for them specifically when i was talking about the server as a whole is funny as fuck. like at that point you're just saying you KNOW youre toxic asf and you might as well defend yourself)

it wasn't a necessity for proof but i felt like i had to show proof that someone (COUGHCOUGH) that was outed as a bad person was, in fact, the person that i was reporting. i used an old screenshot because at that time we were matching pfps and the photos given that he was a bad person had that pfp and yea

ive been called a liar too many times and i can not take it anymore /hj

[hsnlv]

cheating on you…? | y.jw

pairing: boyfriend!jungwon x reader

teaser: he hesitated. then, with great reluctance, he muttered, “you cheated on me.” you stared at him. then, without meaning to, you let out a laugh.

warnings/others: clingy!jungwon😡, mention of cheating!

wc: 1.5k

a/n: another jungwon’s fic is here!! reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! 🎀here’s my masterlist!🎀

you loved jungwon. you really did. but right now? right now, he was testing every ounce of your patience.

“jungwon, i swear—”

“no,” he cut you off, tightening his hold around your waist like a stubborn child. “i’m staying right here.”

you groaned, tilting your head back against your chair. “wonnie, i have a deadline.”

“and i have a girlfriend who is ignoring me,” he countered, pouting dramatically.

you looked at him, unimpressed. “i’m not ignoring you. i’m literally talking to you right now.”

“but you’re not giving me attention.”

you exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down your face. jungwon was never this clingy. sure, he had his moments, but today? today was something else. he had been glued to your side since this morning, following you around like a lost kitten, and now he was practically draped over you, his arms wound around your waist as he refused to let go.

you tried prying his hands off, but he only whined louder. “stop pushing me awayyy,” he drawled, voice muffled against your shoulder. “you’re being so mean today.”

“i’m not being mean,” you huffed. “you’re being impossible.”

he gasped, pulling away to clutch his chest. “me? impossible? is this how you really feel about me?”

you gave him a deadpan look. “jungwon, get off of me.”

“no.”

“jungwon.”

“no.”

“baby, please—”

“no.”

you groaned again, slumping in your chair. “oh my god, why are you like this today?”

he buried his face back into your shoulder, his voice muffled. “because i want to be close to you.”

your brows furrowed. “since when?”

“since forever.”

“that’s a lie.”

“no, it’s not.”

you sighed, placing your laptop on the desk and turning your full attention to him. “okay, what’s going on?”

“nothing.”

“yang jungwon.”

“hm?”

“tell me.”

“there’s nothing to tell.”

you narrowed your eyes. “so you’re just being clingy for no reason?”

he hesitated for a split second before nodding. “yup.”

“you’re lying.”

“no, i’m not.”

“yes, you are.”

“no, i’m not.”

you groaned again, rubbing your temples. “won, baby, if you don’t tell me, i’m going to start assuming the worst.”

his grip on you tightened.

bingo.

you pulled back slightly, eyeing him suspiciously. “jungwon. what happened?”

he pursed his lips, avoiding your gaze. “nothing happened.”

“you’re lying again.”

“no, i’m not.”

“jungwon.”

he whined, flopping against you dramatically. “why can’t you just let me be clingy in peace?”

“because you’re never this clingy,” you pointed out. “which means something happened.”

he groaned, burying his face into your neck. “just drop it.”

“absolutely not.”

“please?”

“nope.”

he let out a long, defeated sigh, and for a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to tell you. but then, in the softest voice, he mumbled, “i had a dream.”

you blinked. “a dream?”

he nodded.

“was it a bad dream?”

he hesitated. then, with great reluctance, he muttered, “you cheated on me.”

you stared at him. then, without meaning to, you let out a laugh.

jungwon immediately pulled away, eyes narrowing. “why are you laughing?”

“because,” you giggled, covering your mouth, “you’re being clingy because of a dream?”

his pout deepened. “it wasn’t just a dream. it felt real.”

you shook your head, still smiling. “wonnie, baby, you know that would never happen, right?”

he huffed. “do i?”

“yes.” you cupped his face, pressing a kiss to his nose. “because i love you. and i would never, ever do that to you.”

he exhaled, his pout softening just a little. “promise?”

you held up your pinky. “pinky promise.”

he hooked his pinky around yours, finally cracking a small smile. “good.”

you grinned. “so does this mean you’re gonna let me finish my assignment now?”

jungwon paused. then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he tackled you onto the bed.

“jungwon!” you squealed, laughing as he wrapped himself around you like an octopus.

“nope,” he hummed, snuggling into your neck. “i’m still recovering from my heartbreak.”

you rolled your eyes but let him hold you anyway, because honestly? you didn’t really mind.

© all rights reserved | hsnlv | 2025

[sunshineyuyu]

stereo hearts (s. mg)

★ summary: mingi’s had a crush on you since his freshman year. you’re a year older than him, infinitely cooler, and you share a love for music. one night, you end up making out in the storage closet of the campus radio station you both work at, and you end up getting closer. ★ pairing: mingi x f!reader ★ genre: smut, college ★ word count: 5.6k ★ tags/warnings: radio station dj!mingi and reader, reader is a year older than mingi, mingi is a computer science major LOL, reader is described as shorter than mingi, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, mentions of nicotine vape, frat party, american college setting, kinda sub-y mingi, kinda dom-y reader, slight dumbification?, reader is just a little mean to mingi, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, penetrative piv sex (with a condom!), minor super background seongjoong ★ notes: this one was written as a gift for @starhwas-bunny huhu, my bestie beta <3 ftr i have never dj-ed for a university radio station so hopefully this isn’t a super inaccurate representation of that experience. ★ masterlist | read on ao3

in the three years since mingi started volunteering as a dj at the university radio station, the little room they broadcast out of has become something like a second home to him.

three out of four of the walls are covered floor to ceiling with shelves that sag from the amount of vinyls, cassette tapes, and cds crammed onto them. tucked into one corner is a mini fridge that was found abandoned after move-out day years ago, and sitting on top is a weak little keurig gifted by the previous faculty sponsor. there’s a musty old leather couch shoved against the singular non-shelved wall, and in the middle of the whole room is the desk, overloaded with several monitors, a keyboard, and the sound board. the whole room smells faintly like sour coffee and old grandpa, but mingi has learned to love it all the same.

tonight, though, mingi would rather be anywhere else than here. grumpily, he blinks at the red numbers of the digital clock on the corner of the desk. 02:13 AM, it reads. he wishes he could go back in time and take a different shift, but the mingi from a month ago never could’ve anticipated all the developments that have happened over the last few weeks.

first, his compilers assignment is kicking his ass. he’s been working tirelessly on it for three weeks now, but his results are still a little off and the due date is fast approaching at the end of the week. he doesn’t even have any classmates to fall back on for help, since he’s taking the course a semester ahead of his other friends, and he hasn’t had enough time to make new ones yet.

second, his best-friend-roommate yunho just got a new girlfriend, which means he’s been spending less time hanging out with mingi. mingi likes to think that he’s not too clingy or needy, but he misses the routine of waking up to the smell of yunho burning breakfast and then getting in a game of valorant together before going to bed. instead, he’s had to play nice with yunho’s new girlfriend whenever she invades their apartment with her neverending peppiness, and sleep with noise-canceling earbuds because he and yunho share a wall.

he’s sleep-deprived and stressed and lonely and really wants a goddamn hug from literally anyone.

but he’s forced to toil away in the tiny campus radio station studio, where the playlist he’d painstakingly arranged last week to blend seamlessly between songs does nothing to soothe his anxieties.

⋆⋆⋆

there’s still half an hour left of mingi’s shift, but he’s already queued up all the music and timed out the ads, so he’s mostly just focused on chipping away at his assignment. the adrenaline from the celsius he crushed when he first arrived is already started to fade, and mingi is seriously thinking about digging out the elfbar from the bottom of his backpack (that he promised yunho he’d throw away) to extend the last fumes of his focus.

this train of thought is thankfully interrupted by the door of the studio being thrown open unceremoniously.

“shit!”

even on a good day, mingi is a jumpy person, and having the blinding light of the hallway enter the dark studio with no warning makes his heart skip several beats. his knee jerks up on instinct, and it whacks painfully against the bottom of the desk.

“ah, oops. sorry!”

standing in the doorway, haloed in fluorescent light, and appearing practically angelic, is none other than you. you have enough wherewithal to at least look apologetic, but mingi doesn’t care either way because it’s you.

you’re a senior—one year above mingi—and the one who trained him to be a dj when he was a freshman. back then, he’d been starstruck by how outgoing you are, the way you’d tease him with the familiarity of a close friend even though you were practically strangers. you have this eclectic but broad taste in music, and he likes that you challenge him to listen to new artists and genres.

and of course—you’re fucking hot. you’ve always been beautiful, with shining eyes and a big wide smile. but over the years, you’ve changed your hair style, dyed the ends, gotten a couple of piercings and tattoos, and it’s been game over for mingi ever since. 

so yeah, he’s had a crippling crush on you that’s only gotten worse with time.

“hi,” mingi says dumbly, massaging his knee where the pain has already mysteriously disappeared.

“hey!” you say breezily, beaming because it’s clear now that he won’t yell at you for scaring him.

“do you have the next shift?” mingi asks, using all his brainpower to compose a coherent sentence. he’s usually able to act relatively normal around you, but he’s all out of sorts right now, and it’s nearly 2:30 fucking am.

“oh, no,” you say. “i just really needed a caffeine fix, and this is the only place i could think of that’s still open on campus for me to get some.”

you both glance over at the sad excuse of a coffee station the studio has, and mingi lets out an undignified snort.

“it is what it is,” you sigh.

while mingi tries to think of a conversation starter, he turns back to his laptop so he’s not just staring at you like some lovesick puppy. 

your normally styled hair is thrown into an afterthought of a bun, but mingi likes that he can see the elegant line of your neck and the line of silver hoops stacked along your ears. you’re also wearing those rimless bayonetta glasses that he loves, and he always gets distracted by the little sparkle charm you added that dangles from the hinge.

“aw man,” you say. “there aren’t any pods left.”

mingi glances up briefly from his laptop to see you pouting down at the little box where they usually keep the coffee pods. 

cute, he thinks.

“hongjoong ordered more last week,” mingi says, waving towards the storage closet behind him. “but he hid them so people don’t try to steal them in bulk.”

at his words, you perk up and scamper towards the closet after dumping your backpack onto the couch.

with you out of sight, some of the nervous tension in mingi’s muscles finally bleeds out. mingi throws his glasses down onto the table and rubs at his weary eyes until he sees fireworks against the backs of his eyelids. he wishes he had even an ounce of the charisma that yunho has, but he’s so fucking tired right now that he can’t think of anything even remotely charming to talk to you about. eventually, he slams his forehead down onto the table and entertains the thought of knocking himself out. before he can let his imagination run too wild, he hears the sound of something heavy falling and a whispered “fuck!”

concerned, mingi straightens and rolls his chair closer to the threshold of the storage closet.

“you good?” he asks.

he forgot to put his glasses back on, so you’re really more of a blurry blob of a person, but somehow your sheepish smile still manages to come through.

“i found the pods!” you say brightly, pointing at a large cardboard box on the top shelf. “but, i can’t reach them.”

mingi huffs out a laugh and stands up. finally, it feels like something is going right for him tonight. you are short and need help, and mingi is tall and can help you.

he’s so hyper-focused on his task that he doesn’t think twice about crowding up behind you. doesn’t think twice about bracing one hand against your back to keep himself steady as he reaches with his other hand for the box. doesn’t think twice about leaning around your smaller frame to present you with the thing. 

“here,” he says, except it comes out breathy and rough because he’s just stretched his body for the first time in what feels like ages.

he doesn’t realize how close your faces are until you utter a soft thank you, and the words ghost along his cheekbone. he shudders at the sensation, and all at once the rest of his brain and body come online to recognize the position you’re arranged in.

it’s cramped in the closet, and mingi’s a big guy. his entire front is pressed up against your back, and the hand he’d used to balance himself has somehow slipped down to your waist, and you’ve turned your head slightly so that you can look up at him.

mingi stares down at you, and you’re seriously so close that he doesn’t need his glasses to see the way your lips part, the way your eyebrows furrow. 

“um,” he says intelligently.

oh-so-slowly, you push your glasses up onto your head and turn around to fully face him. like always, that stupid sparkle charm entrances mingi.

and then suddenly, he’s pulled down by the front of his shirt, and you surge up to meet him. your lips collide together with so much force that your teeth clack, but mingi doesn’t care because jesus fucking christ. he shoves the pods onto the nearest shelf to get his other hand onto your waist too. god, it’s been a while since the last time he’s made out with someone like this. while his mouth works furiously to remember how to kiss well, he fumbles his palms over the curves of your body. meanwhile, your fingers dance confidently along his chest and collarbones, finally curling into the hair at the nape of his neck. when you tug lightly, mingi actually whimpers.

he pulls back, embarrassed, but you look delighted.

“oh,” you breathe, grinning. “oh, fuck—make that noise again.”

mingi stares at you, uncomprehending and breathing like he’s just run a race. you tug again. mingi keens.

“cute,” you murmur. “c’mere.”

you don’t give mingi the chance to second-guess anything as you pull him back down. your chapstick tastes like peaches, and your tongue is doing things that mingi’s never felt before. you touch him everywhere—run your hands along his chest, his stomach, his back, his arms. mingi is putty in your arms, and he stops trying to hold back the sounds that you tease out of him.

you make out sloppily for what seems like hours. it’s so nice and mindless that mingi doesn’t even realize that he’s half-hard in his jeans until you finally take a step back. 

like the fucking touch-starved idiot he is, he unconsciously leans forward to chase after you. in response, you grin and press a single finger against his chest to hold him off.

“it’s almost the next shift,” you say quietly. “we should probably get out of here.”

“oh,” mingi croaks, as reality settles back in. “oh. yeah.”

you peck the underside of his jaw, and then leave the storage closet.

mingi stays for a second longer, collecting himself. finally, he grabs the box of coffee pods and follows you back into the studio.

he can’t get a read on you as you wordlessly retrieve your backpack. he mirrors your movement, albeit more lethargically. he feels like he’s drunk or high or both, body moving sluggishly, and he’s so so confused.

jongho, who’s taking the 3 am shift, shows up in the middle of your silence as a much needed buffer. it takes mingi five minutes to hand over control, and when he’s done, he’s disappointed to see that you aren’t in the room anymore. dejected, he says goodbye to jongho and leaves the studio, only to find you waiting in the hallway.

you look up when he stops in front of you and smile at him.

“walk me to my car?” you say.

mingi smiles shyly back at you. “yeah. okay.”

you start down the hallway, but mingi halts abruptly. “didn’t you- um- your coffee?” mingi stutters. jesus, he really needs to pull himself together.

you quirk your head to one side and then takes a step into mingi’s space. your gaze darkens, and your smile stretches into a smirk.

“nah,” you whisper, reaching to drag your thumb along his bottom lip. “i got my fix.” 

oh, mingi thinks giddily. she means me!

“c’mon,” you say, your face softening and your hand finding mingi’s. “it’s late.”

“yeah,” mingi says dreamily, trailing after you.

⋆⋆⋆

in the days following, mingi doesn’t see you at all.

this isn’t uncommon—you’re different years and majors, after all. but mingi is still bummed about it. he has your number, but he’s never texted you besides to talk about campus radio logistics. sometimes, you’ll send each other a new song or artist to nerd out over, but mingi feels like it’s a little too transparent if he texts you now when the last time you exchanged messages was weeks ago.

every night, though, mingi replays what happened in his head over and over again. how you had been the one to initiate, to guide and control the entire encounter—how that had turned him on in ways he’d never imagined. he tries vainly not to think about you when he jerks off, but right as he’s about to cum, his thoughts always stray to the way you’d tugged at his hair and cooed at his embarrassing noises.

in the aftermath, he’ll try to think instead of the way you held his hand while they walked to your car. the walk had been short but sweet. you’d been the one to intertwine your fingers, and mingi hadn’t been able to hide the stupid smile on his face as your hands swung between the two of you.

you’d given him one last kiss on the cheek before saying good night.

the rest of the night was a haze: walking to his car, driving home, falling asleep the moment his head hit his pillow without even changing out of his clothes.

⋆⋆⋆

it’s friday night, and mingi has managed to finish his godforsaken compilers assignment, so he’s planning on getting wasted.

mingi is still largely undecided on how he feels about yunho’s new girlfriend, but the one thing going in her favor is the fact that she’s the delta gamma social chair and—because of some bylaw somewhere—has automatic entry to every relevant frat party. she can even bring other people with her, as long as it’s not an egregious amount.

and that’s how mingi finds himself in the middle of an SAE party, just the right side of tipsy. he’s nursing a sweating can of beer and watching yunho and wooyoung absolutely destroy a couple of pledges at beer pong. when they win, mingi pounces on them, but ends up empty-handed as they’re each pulled into congratulatory embraces by their respective significant others.

suddenly, despite being surrounded by people, mingi feels incredibly lonely. it’s like he’s been doused in ice water, the way his head clears and his heart sinks. he knows it’s a passing feeling, knows that in two seconds his friends will turn their attention back to him, but the shots and beers from earlier tonight no longer sit right in his bloodstream.

under the guise of getting another drink, mingi ducks away from his friends and looks for someplace with a little more space and air. he wanders towards the yard, where there’s far fewer people. all of the lawn chairs available are already occupied, so mingi leans up against the wall and pulls out his phone. he’s two scrolls into his instagram feed when something collides into his side hard enough to make him let out a soft oof.

he thinks it must be some random drunk, but instead it’s—

you.

“mingi!” you shriek.

your arms wrap around his middle, and you gaze up at him with glazed over eyes. you’re wearing this tight black shirt with a big square neckline, and you’re all squished up against him so mingi gets an eyeful of your cleavage.

he swallows painfully.

“y/n!” he says, trying to match her energy without being as loud.

you peer around him, almost like you’re looking for someone else. “are you here by yourself?” you ask.

“no,” mingi says. “my friends are inside. i just wanted to get some air.”

“ah.” you nod sagely. “do you smoke? like—get high?”

mingi shrugs, and you bounce with glee. you drag him by the wrist over to a small cluster of people sitting around one of the few lawn tables available.

“sit sit sit!” you say, pushing him into the one empty chair before unceremoniously plopping yourself down in his lap. dumbstruck, mingi just sits there with his hands lying limply against the armrests as you shuffle around in his fucking lap to find a comfortable position. every ounce of his energy is going towards not popping a boner right now.

instead, he focuses on trying to recognize the people sitting around the table. there’s kim hongjoong, the president of your campus radio org, and his boyfriend park seonghwa. beside them is chaewon, your best friend, also sitting in the lap of some guy who mingi assumes is her boyfriend.

shit—what are these people assuming about him, then? 

“here,” you say, thrusting a small object like a usb towards his lips. “take a hit of penelope.”

“penelope?” mingi’s like, still reeling from everything that’s happened in the last five minutes.

you giggle. “my pen. here.”

obediently, mingi leans towards and fits his lips around the tiny weed pen. it’s been a while since he last got high—yunho and wooyoung both run cross-country and don’t like messing around with drugs while they’re in season. he tries to take a shallow hit, but doesn’t end up getting anything, so he throws all caution to the wind and inhales deeply. the tangy sour smoke hits the back of his throat harder than the smooth mintyness of his elfbar, so of course—

he ends up coughing.

little puffs of smoke leave his mouth and nose as he splutters. thankfully, everyone barely laughs at him. in fact, hongjoong hands him a bottle of water which he chugs gratefully.

“sorry, been a while,” mingi rasps, when he finally manages to take a normal breath.

you hum and brush some of mingi’s hair behind his ear. “cute.”

this nearly sends mingi into another coughing fit, but he manages to just laugh breathlessly instead. clutching the water bottle to him like a lifeline, he sinks back into his chair so that maybe he can be less in the spotlight.

“—anyway,” chaewon says, and mingi lets out a sigh of relief at the turn of attention, “sannie, tell them about all the shit they made you do when you were a pledge.”

san—the one guy mingi didn’t know—sighs and pinches chaewon’s thigh.

“babe, you can’t just make me tell this story to everyone. trade secrets, and whatever.”

hongjoong snorts. “so they got you pretty good, huh?”

“goddamnit,” san is like.

so san regails them with the harrowing tale of him pledging SAE, and mingi finally lets himself relax. san has this soft, earnest voice, and it’s nice to listen to. at some point, you press penelope into his hand, and even later, mingi works up the courage to take another hit. this one is much more successful than the last, and gradually, mingi works up a nice buzz. it spurs him to tug you deeper into his lap, fit his hands around your waist—jesus, have you always been this small compared to him?

mingi has no idea how long he spends there, vibing with you and your friends. he’s halfway to asleep when suddenly he feels something trail along his jawline. he feels the telltale graze of lips against his skin, and his pulse jumps.

suddenly, he is incredibly awake.

you nose at his neck, leave the lightest of kisses. mingi becomes hyper aware of his surroundings, and finally realizes that conversation’s been dead for a while. chaewon is fully straddling san in his chair, and hongjoong and seonghwa have disappeared.

“you wanna get out of here?” you murmur.

“yeah. yeah.”

⋆⋆⋆

mingi is aware enough to shoot a text off to his group chat with yunho and wooyoung letting them know that he’s going home with someone. he feels an odd rush of validation from the subsequent onslaught of vulgar texts and emojis he gets in response.

your place isn’t far from greek row, so they walk there. once again, you have threaded your fingers together, and mingi is noticing for the first time just how small your hand is compared to his. with your other hand, you scroll through your spotify playlists, trying to find one that “fits the ambiance” of the walk before settling for one titled vaporwave vibes.

mingi is just happy to be involved.

you’re a giggly mess as you stumble-walk-run into your apartment.

“roommate—?” mingi asks, as two of you toe off your shoes, and you turn up the volume of your music.

“chaewon’s shacking up at the SAE house tonight,” you say, grinning. you lean in close to mingi and poke his nose. “so you can be as loud as you wanna be, baby.”

baby?!

you lead mingi to your bedroom, where you spare a few seconds to turn on a lamp that casts the room into a soft pink hue and plug your phone into a speaker. you choose a different playlist—one with soft r&b and lofi.

then, you crawl onto your bed, swaying your hips as you do. mingi just stares at you, suddenly very out of his depth. this feels infinitely different from making out in a storage closet. this is your apartment, your room, your bed.

you’re leaned back against your pillows now, head cocked and eyes half-lidded.

you spread you legs and beckon mingi to come closer.

“c’mon, baby. let’s have some fun, hm?”

like a man possessed, mingi steps forward until he hits the edge of the mattress, and then he falls onto his knees, shuffling forward until he’s hovering between your thighs.

“cute.”

mingi waits for you to make the first move, because that’s what he’s used to, and you do. you hook your hands around his neck and pull him down, presses your lips together chastely. mingi’s eyes flutter close, and he lets instinct take over.

you must be wearing something like lipgloss tonight, because your lips are tackier than last time, and they taste like cherry. mingi’s intoxicated by it. he deepens the kiss, adds some tongue. his hands run along your thighs, your hips, your waist.

you do that thing with his hair again, and he whimpers. he feels you smile. you move his hands over your chest, inviting him to really touch, and he moans involuntarily when he realizes that you’re not wearing a bra under your shirt. 

“take it off,” you breathe, and mingi obeys immediately.

“fuckk,” he whines when he sees your tits. “fuck—you’re so—”

he surges forward and fits his mouth over one of your nipples and sucks. this time, it’s you who moans, and the sense of triumph rushes straight to mingi’s dick. after only a few minutes of worshipping your tits, mingi is already so hard he could cut through glass.

“you, too,” you say, trying to pull off mingi’s shirt. “take this off—take it all off.”

so he strips. first his shirt, then his jeans. he curses as he struggles with the button and the zip—when choosing his outfit earlier, he’d only been thinking about how this pair are a little tight so they make his ass look good. now, he’s straining to get them off without looking like an idiot.

finally, he manages to tug the jeans down to mid-thigh, which means you get a better view of the outline of his cock in his briefs. at least he wore dark underwear so you can’t see the frankly embarrassing wet patch that mingi knows is there. he’s always leaked like a faucet.

"god, i knew you'd be big," you sigh as mingi finishes shucking off his pants ungracefully.

he freezes, feeling a little exposed but also a little bold.

"you- have you thought about me- this before?" he asks.

"of course," you smirk. "big shy boy like you? that's my favorite."

you sit up onto your elbows and reach forward with one hand to cup his bulge. you squeeze, and mingi keens. it takes every drop of mingi's self-control to not cum on the spot. instead he falls onto his forearms and buries his face into your neck.

“fuck,” he squeaks.

you continue to work his dick through his briefs, but with such a light, teasing touch that mingi starts rutting helplessly into your hand to get more friction. it’s been a while since someone else has gotten him off, and the weed is making him so so sensitive.

"wanna- wanna make you feel good," he pants, but he can’t stop grinding down against you like some stupid fucking dog. 

"yeah?” you goad. “you wanna fuck me with your big dumb cock? do you even know how to use that thing?"

mingi whimpers. “yes, yes—please. let me- let me show you. please.”

“okay, big boy,” you whisper into his ear, finally letting him go. “show me.”

mingi doesn’t waste any time after that. he pulls off your pants and your underwear in one go. he’s practically drooling at the sight of your cunt and can’t help himself from running a finger reverently through your folds.

you’re wet.

because of him.

he drops down in front of your pussy and licks a line from your entrance to your clit. you fucking moan. 

“yeah?” you say, all dominant like always but a little breathless. “you gonna prep me first? gonna prep me for your huge dick?”

in response, mingi attaches his mouth to your clit and buries a finger into your hole.

“ah—fuck!”

one finger turns into two into three quickly, as mingi works you open, all while lapping at your clit. he has limited experience with this so he’s not super confident in his ability, but you’re making these high-pitched noises that must mean he’s doing something right. and then you tug at his hair, forcing his head back.

“thought you were gonna fuck me?” you say.

“yes, yeah, sorry.”

mingi has enough wherewithal to ask about condoms and lube, and while he tugs off his underwear, you retrieve the stuff from your nightstand. he’s so keyed up that he fumbles the condom, can’t get a good grip to tear it open, and finally resorts to biting one corner with his teeth to rip off an edge. it works, and he spits out the little piece of foil somewhere onto the bed beside them.

“oh, fuck.” he hears, and it’s the first semblance of a whine from you.

with renewed vigor, mingi rolls the condom onto his dick, hissing at finally getting some stimulation after being hard and untouched for so long.

“c’mon, c’mon,” you say, throwing the lube at him. “hurry up.”

he squeezes some of the lube onto his hand—there’s a light red sheen to it and a faint scent of cherry. feverishly, he thinks the smell of cherries is going to be ruined for him forever as he spreads the lube over the condom.

and then he presses just the tip into your entrance, and already he knows he’s not going to last long. you’re just too warm, too wet, too tight.

“jesus,” he whimpers, as he presses deeper into your cunt. “you’re fucking perfect.”

“fuck,” you groan. “you’re so fucking big.”

“gonna- gonna make you feel good,” mingi promises. “gonna fuck you so good.”

when he’s finally bottomed out, he takes a second. he hopes it looks like he’s just being considerate of his size, but really it’s mostly for himself, to make sure he’s not a one thrust wonder. and then you clench around him.

“fuck!”

it startles him into moving—with a strong grip on your thighs, he thrusts into you with so much force that the bed frame groans. 

“ah- yeah, baby. just like that. fuck, so good. so good, so big—so full. fuck!”

you babble nonsense into his ear, but every syllable fuels mingi’s determination. he snaps his hips against yours until his thighs burn, and then some more. but even in spite of his sheer will, mingi is just a guy finally fucking the girl of his dreams, and so his orgasm sneaks up on him entirely too fast.

“oh, fuck. oh, fuck. i’m sorry, i’m sorry—i’m gonna cum, i’m gonna—”

he collapses onto you as he spills into the condom, his entire body twitching with pleasure from the sensation. seconds later, shame and guilt wash over him. he pulls out and crawls down your body to shove his face into your cunt.

he fingers you while he eats you out again, this time quirking his fingers for your g-spot. he’s delirious and desperate—needs to prove that he’s not just some guy who cums without getting off his partner. needs you to enjoy this as much as he is—needs you to want more.

“yeah, yeah, that’s a good boy,” you praise as he laps at your cunt like it’s his job. “so good, baby boy. so good. yeah, just like that—gonna cum. gonna—”

mingi can’t help himself. he pulls back when you climax so that he can watch. he finger-fucks you through it, but his focus is on the way your face scrunches up with euphoria, the way your back arches off the bed in pleasure.

finally, you shove his hand away.

“‘s too much,” you mumble, burying your face into your pillows.

mingi collapses down beside you, completely spent.

he comes to a few minutes later, when he feels the bed shift as you sit up. he must make some kind of noise, because you duck down close, brush the sweaty hair off of his forehead and kiss his temple.

“shh,” you soothe. “it’s okay. you can rest, baby. i’ll clean us up.”

“wait—let me help,” he slurs, starting to sit up.

“no no,” you coo, pushing him back down. “don’t worry, baby. i got it.”

mingi hums, too tired and spent anyway to argue. it’s nice, for once, to be the one being taken care of. he snuggles contently deeper into the bed.

it smells like sex and sweat, but also something kinda sweet. oh, right—cherries.

he drifts off to sleep soon after.

⋆⋆⋆

the next morning, mingi wakes up disoriented, pleasantly sore, but incredibly well-rested. the weed helped offset the alcohol, and the only grossness he feels is from not showering or brushing his teeth before falling asleep.

the bed is unfortunately empty, but the smell of fresh coffee in the air keeps mingi from spiraling too much about it. he lopes around the room, searching for his clothes. he locates those godforsaken tight jeans (which take him far too much effort to stuff himself back into), but doesn’t manage to find his shirt, so he sheepishly wanders into the kitchen shirtless like a moron.

the mystery of his shirt is solved immediately when he sees that you are wearing it. the hem falls right below your ass, and when you move a certain way, mingi can see the bottoms of your cheeks and the hint of black panties.

jesus, even after having the orgasm of his life last night, he’s still so easy.

“morning!” you chirp, when you notice his presence.

“morning,” mingi rasps. “can i- uh- can i help with anything?”

you pause to shoot him a big smile. “no, don’t worry, baby. just sit down. there’s coffee in that mug over there. milk in the fridge.”

mildly stunned at the revelation that your pet names aren’t exclusive to sexy time, mingi follows your instructions. he retrieves a carton of oat milk from the fridge and adds it to his coffee before hopping on a barstool at the kitchen island. he positively inhales the coffee, which must be some kind of special blend because it’s especially fragrant, and watches you bustle around the kitchen with efficiency.

the two of you settle into a comfortable silence, and it’s strangely intimate—domestic—but mingi doesn’t let that part of his imagination run too wild. for his own sanity, it’s probably best if he just takes whatever this is with you one day at a time.

soon, you slide a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast in front of him. you prance into the barstool beside him, nudging it closer so that your knees touch under the countertop.

it smells heavenly, reminds him of weekend breakfasts with his own family, and before he can stop himself, he says,

“thanks, mommy.”

it’s the kind of shithead joke he pulls with yunho and wooyoung often, but with you, it drips with subtext. over the rim of your coffee cup, you raise an eyebrow at him, and he feels his entire face heat up with embarrassment.

“i mean- um—”

“didn’t know you were into that kinda stuff,” you coo. “guess i’ll have to remember that for next time.”

mingi digs into his eggs so that he doesn’t have to look you in the eye while he processes that. next time?!

the rest of breakfast passes uneventfully. you take the reins of the conversation, yapping about your thoughts on chaewon’s frat bro boyfriend. mingi gives all the appropriate reactions at the appropriate times and just basks in the joy of eating a home-cooked breakfast the morning after having sex with his long-time crush.

later, mingi will rinse off your dishes and load them into the dishwasher, and you will return his shirt to him before sending him off with another chaste kiss to the cheek. mingi decides to walk back to his own apartment even though it’s nearly a mile away. but the sun is shining and the birds are chirping and his phone—barely hanging on with 10% battery—buzzes in his pocket with a single text:

y/n l/n has invited you to collaborate on a playlist: mommy issues ;)

[semperama]

I’m still not over how this is literally a fanfiction moment. All the fics that have them hugging goodbye and Buck watching until Eddie drives out of sight or Eddie looking in the rear view mirror and seeing Buck getting smaller and smaller…..I legitimately never thought it would ACTUALLY HAPPEN ON THE SHOW.

[childishshroom]

I’m not the best at fic writing, or writing these characters/series in general, but i just had to get this idea out into words!!

(Lost my original draft of this cause of device dying, but i will prevail :[ )

<- —~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~— ->

As Danny and the gang were walking down the side walk coming back from school, he suddenly sensed that a large amount of ecto was nearby, but that was impossible, there was only shops and a couple of random, far away people coming across the side walk towards them. And there was definitely no way it was from anyone he knew, he would of recognized it almost instantly.

‘Maybe its just a fluke? some random ambient patch of echo or something!’ He would start justify to himself, but that feeling never disappeared, in fact, it did the opposite, it only got stronger the longer he walked. And once it was strong enough he realized what kind of ghost that ecto would come from.

A revenant. One of — if not the most — violent, vengeful, short sighted, and all around pain in the butt to deal with, type of ghost. Of course, due to this fact, Danny quickly started looking around for the source of this negative ecto, sweeping over the shops, cars, manholes, and finally over the people they were about to pass, the ecto seemed to be concentrated around them the most, so he started looking them over, there were two of them.

There was a short woman, who probably somewhere around 25, sporting an almost fully blue outfit with the eyes and hair to match, leaving just her glasses being sort of purple tinted. Danny noted that she has roughly the same amount of ambient ecto as some just random, run of the mill paranormal hunter, if not a bit more then one, but nowhere even close to revenant levels of the stuff.

So, that leaves only the other person walking besides her.

He seemed to be a tall, pretty bulky guy, who looked like he couldn’t be that much older then 20, wearing a nearly full black suit, black and white what seems like gloves, and a pinkish-purple tie, matching with his purple hair — which, sure is an odd choice, but this is amity park, Dannys seen weirder. — anyways. Danny soon realized that he couldn’t really see the mans eyes, and that he seemed to be walking with a sort of lightness in his steps, not too dissimilar to when he himself walks around as phantom. But hey! Maybe he’s just a surprisingly light guy, who knows.

Getting back to business, he realized that while seemingly having similar levels of ecto to his companion at a glance, he had a MUCH higher level then her if you actually focused on him. So of course, he was Dannys best guess as to who the revenant might be.

But there was no way it was him! Revenants attack anybody and anything almost completely blindly, say’ from they’re target who they go after with unbridled rage. But this guy was literally just walking down the street, chatting with his friend, little to no rage, no vengefulness, not even any disappointment! Not to mention the fact that he at least looked human, revenants usually looked like strange, floating skeletons more then humans!

But Danny’s trail of thought would quickly be cut off by him spotting the weird — you could almost call it an aura — around that guy, purple, misty, and unmistakably ghostly.

<- —~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~——~— ->

ANYWAYS!!! Thats it for now cause its 3AM on a school night and i am already regretting my decisions!

Might add more later if the ghost motivation’s future hits me hard enough, i think doing Lewis’s/Vivi’s perspective of this would be fun! :))

Do you want to see the continuation of this story?

[theweewooshow]

you taste like cold and lonely nights

bucktommy | 1.5k | prompt: kissing out of habit

Buck is so goddamned embarrassed.

He’s not even sure how this happened.

He’s babysitting and house sitting for Maddie and Chim while they take a pre-birth vacation for a few days and he very nearly burns their house down.

He stepped outside for a minute to see what Jee was doing in the backyard and then the smoke detector was going off and when he went back inside, the oven was pouring smoke.

He swears this house is actually haunted. That’s the only explanation for why it would spontaneously start smoking the minute he looked away from it.

He turns the oven off, fanning away the opaque smoke as he opens it up to stare at the ruins of what were supposed to be snickerdoodle cookies.

He fans the smoke away from the smoke detector with a kitchen towel and after another minute, the noise stops.

When he opens the back door to let the house air out, he sees Jee looking at him curiously from where she’s assembling the collection of rocks she’s found.

He grins sheepishly and says, “The cookies might take a little longer than expected, but we can have some later, okay?”

She nods and turns back to the rocks and Buck thanks his lucky stars she’s not in the mood to ask any questions.

He returns to the mess and grabs the sheet tray from the oven with the towel in his hand. Half the cookies are pale and gooey, underdone, and the other half are miserable little pieces of coal that stare at him menacingly as he shoots off a text to his group chat Maddie and Chim, letting them know what happened.

How long was the smoke detector going off? is what Chim texts back a handful of minutes later as Buck is cleaning up the mess. Buck furrows his brow as he looks at his phone.

A few seconds later, he hears the telltale sound of a firetruck nearby and he groans audibly.

He forgot that Chim was telling him about their new Hildy security system and how it was hooked up to literally everything in the house, including the smoke detectors. She must have alerted 911 somehow when the alarm went off and they dispatched the fire department.

He texts Chim back, too long.

The series of emojis he gets back has him plotting and scheming Chimney’s demise as he closes the oven and waits for the fire department to show up.

He gets up and heads to the door when he hears the fire truck in front of the house and wonders which fire house he’s about to embarrass himself in front of.

He thinks the 133 is the closest, which is probably a good thing since he’s kind of in Captain Mehta’s good graces. Maybe he can convince him not to let his team tell everyone in the fire department about this.

When the knock at the door comes, he’s already armed with an excuse as he swings the door open to see who’s on the other side.

It feels like all his higher brain function comes screeching to a halt as he wordlessly stares—his eyes flitting from Tommy’s face to his team a few yards back.

“Buck?” Tommy says, confused. He looks at the house number and then back at Buck, like he’s making sure they got the right house—which makes sense since they never got around to coming over here for dinner before they broke up.

“Uh, Tommy, hi,” Buck says when he regains some sense. “Sorry. I, I set the smoke alarm off and Chim has this new Hildy thing that apparently calls 911 when the smoke detector goes off for long enough.”

“Oh, this is Chimney’s house?” he asks.

“Yeah, uh, he and Maddie bought it a while ago. It was haunted, or people thought it was haunted because they thought people got murdered here, but it turns out that was a lie. Except I still think it’s kind of haunted because the cookies I put in the oven were burnt to a crisp after only being in there for like five minutes.”

Tommy nods and chuckles. “Okay, I’m getting a picture of what happened. Give me a sec, I’ll let the others know it was a false alarm.”

Buck appreciates the discretion as Tommy turns back to the others in the driveway to update them, shielding Buck from their line of sight.

When he comes back to the door, Buck is tense as Tommy says, “I just need to do a walkthrough to make sure everything’s alright.”

Buck nods and says, “Oh, uh, sure, sure,” and lets him inside, trying to slow his heartbeat down. “So, why is the 217 responding out here?” Buck asks as he leads Tommy into the kitchen.

Tommy says, “Mehta and his men are at a warehouse fire and we were nearby after finishing up at another false alarm nearby. Those Hildy things are not very good at determining what actually warrants a call to 911.”

“You should definitely tell Eddie your thoughts on Hildy sometime,” Buck says as they come to a stop.

Tommy takes in the whistles lowly. “Yeah, definitely haunted,” he says, a sarcastic lilt to his voice, picking up a blackened cookie off the baking sheet and tapping it against the sheet tray. It thunks loudly against it.

“Yeah, ha ha, laugh it up,” Buck says.

“I’m not laughing at you. Just—you are the only person I know who gets himself into situations like this. Cookies spontaneously turning to char in the oven and AI sending the fire department to the house. It’s kind of Classic Buck.”

“Yeah, I definitely Bucked this one up.”

Tommy glances back over at him after he wipes his hand off. When they make eye contact, they both burst out laughing.

It feels good to laugh, the tension in the room dissipating a little. The laugh lines around Tommy’s mouth and the scrunch of his nose makes something ache inside Buck.

“Maybe it’s me who’s cursed,” Buck says after his laughter subsides.

“Nah,” Tommy says, waving a hand, “These things happen. No curses this time, probably just faulty wiring that created hot spots in the oven.”

“Probably,” Buck agrees.

They stare at each other for a moment before Tommy says, “Well, since I’ve confirmed it was just a false alarm, I should head back out, let you get back to it.”

Buck nods and leads him back to the door.

“It was, um, it was good seeing you,” Buck says, meaning it. He’s been kind of afraid of seeing him again, but seeing him was good. He looks good.

But when Tommy smiles at him, standing only a foot away from him, it’s like he’s transported back to the loft, to all the times Tommy smiled at him in front of the door there.

He’s leaning in before he realizes what he’s doing, his hand sliding up to Tommy’s neck as he drags him into a soft kiss. It’s out of habit to kiss him goodbye at the door like they’ve done a hundred times before.

His brain catches up to what he’s done and he pulls away, about to apologize profusely when Tommy’s hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, like he wants to keep him there.

So Buck stares into Tommy’s eyes and stays put. He leans in again, pressing their mouths more firmly together.

Tommy kisses him back, their heads tilting, their mouth sliding together in a dance they know intimately.

He feels pinpricks in the base of his scalp as their tongues press against each other, as the distance between their bodies closes on instinct, as Tommy’s free hand comes to rest on the small of Buck’s back.

They kiss and they kiss and they kiss, and Buck revels in every single second of it, memorizing the way they fit together.

A knock at the door startles them out of it, snapping them back to reality.

Buck can see Tommy’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and says, “Um, I have to—“ He points over his shoulder and Buck nods stupidly.

“Right, right. You should, you should get back out there,” he says, his heart pounding in his throat.

Tommy turns to leave and Buck feels like crying or maybe screaming. But then Tommy puts his hand on the doorknob and freezes there, not turning the handle to open it.

Something like hope bubbles up inside Buck.

“Hey, Tommy?” he finds himself saying after a few moments of silence.

“Yeah?” Tommy asks, looking back at Buck, his expression open and vulnerable and scared.

“Press send next time,” he says, and then watches as Tommy opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to find the right words.

Tommy looks only a little embarrassed as he nods and says, “I’ll do that. Bye, Evan.”

A minute after the door closes, that bubble of hope blossoms as his phone pings with a text.

drop a kudos or comment on ao3! <3

[laiahernandeeezzz]

I DON'T THINK I COULD LOVE YOU MORE

******

Pairing: Billie Eilish x fem!reader

Words: 1.9K

****** [So after everything that happened, I really wanted to write something cute and happy for the Grammys, I've been obssessed with Billie these last days, so I hope you like it!!!]

The alarm went off earlier than usual on the morning of the Grammys. Y/n stirred beneath the covers, stretching an arm out to find her girlfriend—only to be met with an empty, cold spot. She frowned. If there was one thing she knew about Billie, it was how much she despised getting out of bed without spending a few minutes tangled together, exchanging sleepy kisses.

With a sigh, Y/n lazily pulled her hair into a messy bun and grabbed one of Billie’s oversized sweatshirts. If they were already huge on the singer, Y/n practically drowned in them, despite being taller than her girlfriend. But that’s exactly what made them so cozy.

She padded toward the kitchen, where she found Billie perched on a stool, hands wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. Y/n approached her from behind, wrapping an arm around her waist and resting her chin on her girlfriend’s shoulder. It was only then that she noticed how tense Billie was.

“Good morning, my love,” Y/n murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. But instead of the usual warm response, Billie only managed a small, tight-lipped smile—more a grimace than anything.

Y/n’s brows furrowed. Something’s up.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.

Billie let out a heavy sigh, finally turning in Y/n’s embrace to face her. “Sorry, baby. It’s just… I’m a bit stressed about tonight.” She hesitated, then ran a hand through her hair. “Claudia called me before the alarm went off. Turns out Finneas woke up feeling sick… and he lost his voice. Like, he literally can’t sing, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, babe, I’m so sorry,” Y/n said sincerely. “But I know you’ll figure something out. Have you talked to your team?” As she spoke, she absentmindedly ran her fingers through Billie’s hair, knowing it always helped calm her—even just a little.

“I called my mom, and she said I have two options: find someone to do the harmonies while Finneas plays guitar, or sing without them and just have him play.”

Y/n nodded, considering it. “What do you want to do?” she asked, pulling away briefly to make herself a cup of coffee. She missed the way Billie immediately pouted at the loss of her touch. Once her drink was ready, Y/n returned to her girlfriend’s side, taking Billie’s hand in hers and tracing slow, soothing circles on her knuckles.

“Finneas says he’ll still be okay to play, so that’s not the issue,” Billie admitted. “But I would really like someone to sing with me. It gives the song more depth, y’know? Makes it feel… fuller.”

Y/n took a thoughtful sip of her coffee. “That makes sense. Is there anyone you can call? I mean, you still have one more rehearsal—you could try it out with someone and see how it feels.”

Billie fell silent, deep in thought. A few moments later, a small smile tugged at her lips as she turned to face Y/n again.

“Baby,” she started sweetly. “You know I love you, right?”

Y/n narrowed her eyes, immediately suspicious. “Of course I know… Why?”

Billie hesitated, her blue eyes wide and pleading. “Well… You obviously know the lyrics to the song…”

Y/n’s stomach dropped. “…Yeah?”

“You’ve been to every rehearsal, so you know exactly where Finneas comes in…”

“Billie…”

“And even if you don’t believe it, you do have an amazing voice…”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “I do not like where this is going.”

Billie pressed her lips together before finally blurting it out. “Sooo… Maybe… Remember that I love you so, so much… but maybe you could—I don’t know—sing with me tonight?” She whispered the last part, voice pitching higher as she looked at Y/n with the most hopeful expression imaginable.

Y/n stared at her. “Babe. That is crazy.” She set her coffee down, heart rate already spiking. “I have never sung in front of anyone—barely anyone. And you want me to do it at the Grammys? In front of actual singers? I cannot do that. I’m not prepared. We’ve never even sung your song together—it might not even work!”

Panic was creeping into her voice now, but she also refused to meet Billie’s gaze. She knew that if she looked into those big, ocean-blue eyes, she’d be done for.

Billie took both of Y/n’s hands in hers. “Love, I trust you. I know you can do it. And, like you said, we still have one more rehearsal. Just try it—for me? Please?”

Y/n groaned, running a hand down her face. She was losing this battle fast.

“I don’t know… Are you completely sure you wouldn’t be better off on your own?” she tried one last time.

Billie shook her head, voice unwavering. “I’ll never be better than when I’m with you.”

Y/n exhaled sharply, already knowing she’d caved. Billie could ask her for the moon, and she’d find a way to bring it to her.

“I hate that I love you so much,” she grumbled. “You better make it up to me later.”

Billie smirked, immediately tugging Y/n closer by the hem of the sweatshirt, pulling her between her legs. One hand found its way to Y/n’s waist, the other tilting her chin up until their lips were just inches apart.

“Oh, you bet I will,” Billie murmured before capturing Y/n’s lips in a slow, deep kiss—soft, yet full of passion.

—

Much to Y/n’s dismay, the rehearsal went way too smoothly. Her voice blended perfectly with Billie’s, something she had no choice but to admit. And despite the nerves that had plagued her all morning, she found herself feeling… a little more confident, comforted by the presence of the siblings—Finneas strumming the guitar beside her, Billie performing so effortlessly that it almost felt natural to join in. Her girlfriend hadn’t stopped showering her with compliments, making sure she knew just how amazing she was.

Now, as they got ready for the night, their hotel room was packed with stylists, makeup artists, and assistants bustling around to make sure they looked their best. Clothes were everywhere—red carpet looks, performance outfits, even afterparty choices. It was overwhelming, but Y/n took it all in stride. She’d do anything for Billie, and she’d do it a hundred times over.

“Baby?”

Y/n snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of Billie’s voice. She hummed in acknowledgment, letting her know she was listening.

“I was thinking… Since you’ll be on stage with me tonight, maybe you could also join me on the red carpet?” Billie hesitated before continuing, her voice softer. “I know we weren’t planning to confirm our relationship, but I kinda want to… I want to hold your hand and kiss you without worrying about the cameras.”

Y/n smiled, warmth blooming in her chest. “I think today’s perfect,” she agreed. “Besides, bringing me as your plus one would’ve already been suspicious. Not that we’re very discreet anyway. People really don’t believe our ‘we’re just friends’ speech anymore.”

They both laughed, knowing she was right. They had never officially confirmed anything, but they had never exactly hidden it either. They were private—but that didn’t mean they had to pretend.

—

Y/n had no idea how Billie remained so composed throughout the entire evening. Just walking the red carpet had her stressing, but she thought she’d done pretty well—posing for pictures, both together and separately, sneaking fond glances at Billie when the singer wasn’t looking.

She had met so many artists she admired, with Billie proudly introducing her to people like Sabrina Carpenter and Chappell Roan, all while Y/n tried very hard not to freak out. But no matter how nerve-wracking it was, the steady presence of Billie’s hand on her back kept her grounded. The singer made sure she was okay at all times—whether by asking directly, squeezing her hand, or simply locking eyes from across the room.

But now, as they stood backstage, changed into their performance outfits, Y/n’s nerves returned—stronger than ever.

She tried to hide it, not wanting to add to Billie’s stress, but of course her girlfriend saw right through her.

A few minutes before stepping on stage, Billie pulled her into a hug, making her look at her.

“You’re going to do great, baby. I know it. Just like in rehearsals.”

“Yeah… except this time, real singers will be watching.”

Billie smirked. “And? I’ll be there. Finneas will be there. If it gets too overwhelming, just look at me, alright?”

Y/n exhaled shakily but nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

They shared a soft kiss before someone from production signaled that it was time.

Taking a deep breath, Y/n stepped behind the microphone. She could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on her chest, but then—Finneas placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. They exchanged a small smile, just as the lights dimmed.

Only for Billie to start… talking?

“Hi, guys!” Her voice echoed through the venue, casual and warm. “Normally, we don’t introduce our songs because we’re short on time, but luckily, they gave me a pass tonight.” She chuckled, the crowd responding with cheers. “This morning, we woke up to some sad news—my brother lost his voice. And, as you know, his harmonies are super important to this song. So, we had to find a solution.”

She turned slightly, glancing at Y/n with a teasing sparkle in her eyes.

“Finneas is still going to play, obviously, but tonight, someone very special to me will be singing his part.” She paused before adding, “She’s a little nervous, so if you know the song—please, help us sing. Here’s ‘Birds of a Feather’ with Finneas and Y/n!”

And just like that—it began.

At first, Y/n could barely hear herself over the sound of her own heartbeat, but as the song progressed, she found herself feeling it. The music, the moment, the presence of Billie right next to her. Every now and then, Billie would glance over, locking eyes and smiling, silently reminding her that she was right where she needed to be.

Before she knew it, it was over.

As the final note rang through the venue and the applause roared around them, Y/n barely had time to process it before Billie wrapped her in a tight hug.

“I knew you could do it! You were amazing, baby!” Billie gushed, cupping Y/n’s face and pressing quick kisses all over it.

“Says you!” Y/n laughed breathlessly. “You were born for this, my love. Thank you for trusting me.”

“I always will,” Billie murmured. “I love you so much, Y/n.”

“I love you too.”

They kissed like there was no one else around them—before finally heading back to their seats. But not before Y/n insisted on changing back into her dress, claiming she didn’t want to spend the rest of the night in a t-shirt.

Of course, Billie mocked her for it. “Nothing’s better than a t-shirt, babe.”

They continued watching the show, Billie leaning over at one point as the stage was being set for Sabrina Carpenter’s performance.

With a mischievous smirk, she whispered into Y/n’s ear, “You do know the next step is for you to sing with me on tour, right? And not just the harmonies.”

Y/n turned to her, eyes wide. “You’re kidding.”

Billie just grinned, bursting into laughter at her reaction. And, despite herself, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh too.

She shook her head, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Billie’s lips. “I was going to refuse, but… you do know all you have to do is ask.”

[rafesweetie]

track v. THE ARCHER! (feat. rafe cameron and prissy!reader)

“i never grew up, it’s getting so old, help me hold onto you”

soulmates. that’s what you and rafe were. two souls destined to be forever tied together.

rafe wished he actually liked it.

he felt as though he was putting you through hell daily, the emotionally immature and extremely unstable boy was lending you all his problems, every single horrible thing he’d done, so it could be your problem instead of his.

you’d thought he’d changed. and in your defence, he thought he did too. when he shaved his hair, old rafe was gone for good, in his place was a put-together ceo who had a normal life. until his father died.

in all honesty, rafe had always wished he’d die someday, so that rafe could finally be the man. but, now that it’s actually happened, he feels like the fake dream world he put together has collapsed.

you walk into the bedroom after coming in after getting your nails and eyelashes done, so excited to show rafe, singing his name playfully when you come in. but your smile drops and you stop in your tracks when you see him.

big shoulders hunched over, elbows on his knees, as he sits on the edge of the king-sized bed with his face in his big hands. you’re unsure if he’s crying or just upset.

“…rafe?” you ask, confused.

“hey baby,” he mutters, voice thick and gruff. he won’t look up at you.

you go to sit beside him, rubbing his back through his shirt and scratching it with your new nails. “what’s wrong?” you ask, voice gentle.

“nothin’. rough day,” he sighs, breath shaky.

“are you.. crying?”

“no. no baby, c’mon, i’m a man,”

“i didn’t ask your gender, i asked if you were crying,”

“i know,” he groans, finally lifting his face up to stare at you. “i am crying, okay? rough day, told you,”

“oh,” you’re sadly unsure how to comfort him, you never have before. he’s had his moments but they were mostly anger, never sadness.

“god, i don’t even know how you fucking stay with me,” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. “i’m a mess. even my own dad didn’t stay with me, not my sister… i mean— you’ve seen my dark side and yet you still stick around,”

“you don’t have a ‘dark side’, you’re not some silly villain, you just have had it rough and you’re trying to cope,” you try to counter his words and assure him. “..but yeah, i guess sometimes you scare me, but i’ll always stick around,”

“who could ever leave me, anyway? not like i let people, m’always stupidly pushy, ruins everything,” he mutters. “but who could wanna stay?”

“me,” you instantly say.

“don’t know how. you’re dating a… fatherless killer— murderer. and you just admitted you get scared of me. god, leave me if you get scared, don’t be stupid,”

“can you stop thinking like that please?” you ask. “you literally misunderstand yourself, which i didn’t know was possible. you’re so brave, and.. killing peterkin was a mistake, but everything you’ve done has been for a good reason. just bad at executing ideas. doesn’t make you a bad guy, i’ll say it over and over again,”

“you see right through me,” he sighs. “wanna know something? that’s terrifying. i hate that you see right through me, i hate it so much.”

“why? because i know you?”

he nods, and you continue rubbing his back. you’re quiet, unsure how to respond and assure him.

“if i didn’t know you, then no one would,” you respond. “isn’t that scarier?”

he nods. “my dad knew me, was scared shitless of him,”

“so you’re scared of me?”

“knowing me means you have some power over me,”

“knowing you means that i’m gonna stick around and not run the opposite direction like you’re so afraid of.”

“you’re smart today, huh?”

you crack a smile at that. you caress his cheek and wipe away some of the tears. “i think you’re always ready for combat. but you don’t need to be, not with me. i’m not gonna hurt you, not gonna do anything. you’re just as scared of me as i am of you,”

“then help me hold onto you, don’t wanna lose you,” he whispers, then he kisses you.

you hate the feeling of his damp skin on yours, knowing the reason, but you have to be there for him, be the archer, be the brave.

[esandiinsari]

''hehe mac in panel 17 is like "oh NO U DON'T! PUT YOUR MOUTH WHERE IT BELONGS'' kyri , that's my fav part!! when i first started watching lmk i never thought i would be so invested in shadowpeach so much. there's this deep unresolved history between them and omg the tension .When Macaquee performed that shadow play of their past to mk in the show, his voice and soul conveyed the hurt and betrayal. after all this time he still think about it and i bet those moments haunt him even when in diyu. and don't get me started about wukong. this monkey regret everybit of what happened between them . when he fights macaque i see the anger and unresolved issues. they know eachother's every move , every hit, every punch. but when mk came into their life and changed everything, they grew to love him and protect him just like parents.

In season 5 macaque fights MK and tries to not let him go and let him sacrifice himself. I see that moment as a reflection of how Macaque feels about wukong going to war with the Jade emperor. He couldn't do anything to prevent wukong from doing it back then. But the urge, the push Macaque feels to stop mk from doing something now will definitely activate Macaque's feelings for mk as his own son.

And Wokong must have never thought that he was going to love this kid with his life so much that he would take his place in the pillar. Wukong must have raised his staff against Macaque during the journey to the West, but now he stands against MK from killing himself. The last thing Wukong wants in his immortal life (even when the world is literally at its end) is to see another one of his loved ones end his life.

waiting for season 6 , i get to see macaque's, wukong's and mk's lives and relationship from a different plot and art style. thank you @kyri45 IN LOVE WITH THEIR KISS also thanks for the new wallpaper, kyri. SHADOWPEACH - CANON legoo!!

And when the day kisses the night you know that, even after the dark, the light will shine on a new sunrise.

AT LONG LAST.

AT LONG.

LAST.

THE BITCHES. FINALLY. KISSED!!!!!!!

SHADOWPEACH IS OFFICIALLY CANON!!1!1!1 (in the au)

Shadowpeach Bio Parent AU (PREV/ FIRST / )

Next part is coming on February 8th, 1PM ET

You can bet your ass they kept making out on the way to heaven.

More rambling and Horizontal and vertical versions of the kiss under the cut!

Well, what can I say. It's been a long journey, but the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU can finally be officially a "Shadowpeach-canon" AU ahah. Hopefully the slow-burn wasn't too painful. I put my heart on my sleeve when I say that I swore to myself that as soon as the two bitches completely, fully forgive each other, then, and only then, they could have their moment.

Then, something something-having your true form while doing an act/saying something means showing the honesty of what you are saying/doing-something something

I laughed my ass off so many times while drawing panel 7 bc like- Mac is just "omg this idiot is so stupid, he's my idiot, I love him so much"

lastly, finally, FINALLY, I don't have to hold back anymore! Prepare yourself, Im gonna go full blast with these bitches. If you thought whatever they were doing before was gay, BOY DO I HAVE NEWS FOR YOU. this story might as well turn intp a FWP (plot? what plot? fluff without plot)

hehe mac in panel 17 is like "oh NO U DON'T! PUT YOUR MOUTH WHERE IT BELONGS

Maybe this is not as epic or as a boom as the spicynoodle kiss. But that's kind of the point. They are the doomned toxic yaoi who healed in the past 6 months. They have always been together kind of. A kiss is just one of the hundreds other actions and words they shared during all the other parts of the story. They loved each other well before this chapter. So a kiss is just a natural course of them re-discovering each other and their intimacy. They sleep together (literally sleeping together, not sex yet) they comfort each other at their lowest, they saw each other inner selfs, they call each other nicknames, they call each other beautiful. I mean this was less of a "Slow Burn" and more a "put it in the microwave cause it got cold so that it slowly get warm again, but the food was already cooked"

[00valentina-writes00]

Ambessa x reader with gut wrenching mommy issues? 😭 I swear, something in that woman just triggers my mommy issues and IT MAKES ME WANNA START BAWLINGGGGG.

At this point everything I ask for is gonna be about Ambessa (if that’s not a problem) but I know you’ll literally get this JUST RIGHT like you always do. Thank you!! 🖤🖤🖤

(It’s never a bother to write for Ambessa, although, at this rate I’m going to have to make a part two to my Masterlist)

✞⛧ Ambessa with a girl that has horrendous mommy issues ✞⛧

✞⛧ You were raised in an environment where love was a rare currency, a mother who prioritized power and status over affection. It left you feeling neglected and deeply insecure about your worth.

✞⛧ Your mother’s coldness haunted you, leaving you with a deep-seated need for reassurance, for someone to show you what genuine care could look like.

✞⛧ With Ambessa, you find yourself drawn to her commanding nature, but at times, it also triggers something more vulnerable in you—something raw. You see shades of your mother’s harshness in Ambessa’s strength, but at the same time, you’re desperate for the comfort she could provide.

✞⛧ Sometimes, you catch yourself comparing Ambessa to your mother, wondering if she’ll leave you too, just like she did. It’s an insecurity you try to bury, but it surfaces in small ways—lingering doubts, tearful moments, and anxious thoughts.

✞⛧ Ambessa doesn’t always understand the weight of your trauma. At times, she’ll be blunt with you in a way that stings, and you retreat into yourself, silently wondering if it’s just a matter of time before she gives up on you.

✞⛧ When Ambessa shows a rare moment of softness, you’re both relieved and terrified. You desperately want to believe that she could care for you in the ways you need, but the wounds from your past make it hard to trust.

✞⛧ You sometimes freeze when she raises her voice, even if it’s just to give a command in battle or during training. The sound of authority in her tone echoes the way your mother would speak to you.

✞⛧ Ambessa notices your hesitation and softens, but you’re often too afraid to fully show her your insecurities. You never want to appear weak in her eyes, so you bottle it up until it becomes overwhelming.

✞⛧ When you have a bad day, when the weight of your past hits hardest, Ambessa catches you in a rare moment of fragility. You curl into yourself, and she knows—though it’s unspoken—that you’re craving something only a mother’s love could provide.

✞⛧ Ambessa is quick to take charge when she sees you struggling with your emotions. She doesn’t fully know how to comfort you in a way that feels right, but she knows how to protect, how to provide a sense of stability. She doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in her arms, even if it’s a bit awkward.

✞⛧ You often crave validation—“You did well,” “You’re enough.” These simple affirmations mean everything to you, but they’re difficult for you to ask for. It’s a weakness you fear exposing.

✞⛧ Ambessa’s strict, no-nonsense nature sometimes feels too close to your mother’s indifference. In those moments, you shut down emotionally, unsure if you’re just too much for her to handle.

✞⛧ There’s a hidden fear that Ambessa will grow bored of you—she’s powerful, commanding, and might tire of your clingy need for affection and reassurance. Your mother’s abandonment runs deep, and it’s hard to shake the feeling that you’re not enough for someone like Ambessa.

✞⛧ You’re often afraid of disappointing Ambessa, and the thought of it triggers your deepest insecurities. Even small failures make you wonder if you’ll push her away, if you’re too fragile to be loved properly.

✞⛧ On bad days, when the memories of your mother’s harshness flood in, you find yourself trying to be the perfect partner for Ambessa—often to the detriment of your own well-being. You fear showing weakness because it feels like you’re doomed to repeat the same cycle of neglect.

✞⛧ When Ambessa is harsh with you—maybe even unintentionally—there’s a part of you that recoils, like you did when your mother’s demands were never met with affection. But Ambessa’s different, even if it doesn’t always feel that way.

✞⛧ Ambessa is a woman of few words, but her actions speak volumes. You’ll catch her softening in small ways, checking in with you when you seem distant, a look of concern crossing her face when you’re unusually quiet.

✞⛧ She doesn’t always know how to be tender in the way you need, but she tries. There’s a sharpness to her affection—a strength in it—that speaks to her own understanding of love.

✞⛧ Ambessa’s own experiences with family—especially with Mel—make her fiercely protective of you. She sees your vulnerability and tries to help you process your emotions, though she’s not always equipped to navigate your past trauma.

✞⛧ There are times when you’re upset, and you’ll push Ambessa away, unsure if you even deserve her comfort. But she’s patient. She lets you come to her in your own time, though it hurts her to see you struggle in silence.

✞⛧ Your relationship with Ambessa is complicated by your need for control—an attempt to shield yourself from the pain of abandonment. You’re scared of losing her, but you’re also scared of the intimacy that comes with truly being loved.

✞⛧ Ambessa doesn’t often coddle you, but when she does, it’s rare and meaningful. She understands that there’s a part of you that craves maternal warmth and tries to provide it in her own way, even if it’s a little awkward for her.

✞⛧ You find yourself needing to be needed by Ambessa—sometimes to the point of obsession. When you can’t provide her with something she needs, you feel like you’ve failed her, just like you think you failed your mother.

✞⛧ Ambessa understands that you struggle with your own worth and often takes charge in a way that reassures you—taking care of things so you don’t feel overwhelmed. She’s protective, though sometimes that feels like a reminder of your helplessness.

✞⛧ There are nights when you lie awake, worrying that your need for love will make you too much for Ambessa. You wonder if you’ll eventually drive her away with your fears and neediness.

✞⛧ Ambessa is not a woman who easily shows her emotions, but she takes your insecurities seriously. When you voice your concerns, even if it’s through tears or silent anxiety, she does her best to reassure you—not with soft words, but with firm action. She’s not going anywhere.

✞⛧ Your relationship with Ambessa forces you to confront your fears head-on—your fears of being abandoned, of being unloved, of being too much. She doesn’t coddle you, but she teaches you, slowly and surely, what it means to stand tall despite your brokenness.

✞⛧ Through it all, Ambessa’s care is unspoken. She doesn’t feel the need to constantly reassure you, but her presence in your life is unwavering. She won’t abandon you the way your mother did, and that truth is something you must learn to believe.

✞⛧ The more time you spend with Ambessa, the more you start to trust her. You see the glimmer of care in her eyes when she watches over you—silent, but deeply rooted in the strength of her loyalty. It’s not like what your mother gave you, but it’s real, and it’s yours.

[yandere-wishes]

Can't get this thought out of my head!! It's been driving me crazy all night~🌸

Sorry this is so utterly random, but I can't stop thinking about how similar Poison Ivy is to Venus Mcflytrap!! Like yeah I know it's so obvious but it's never occurred to me before.

So I propose this...

Reader who has powers like Venus: Plant mimicry, Chlorokinesis, and has the mind control pollen (guess that makes her like Ivy too).

Reader who has vines growing on her arms and legs that have thorns and roses, reader who just wants to be like her mentor/adopted mother and save the planet from the horrendous humans running it, reader whose hero name is either Flytrap or Blood-Rose (or maybe Ivy has two side kicks who knows)

Now imagine a batboy, I'm thinking either Tim or Jason fall in love with her.

If it's Jason then the reader obviously has a more punk aesthetic, her words and actions are harsh but her heart is made of pure gold. She loudly protests on the streets, vandalizes anything that she deems a hazard to the earth, and isn't afraid of throwing punches when face to face with the defilers of the earth (literally anyone, I'm thinking she would start fights for stepping on flowers, breaking tree branches, mistreating animals even, oh and def littering.) and this is all as a civilian. As a rouge she's unhinged, she lacks her mentor's grace, she goes in monster veins swinging. Ready to break skulls. Maybe she really is more monstrous compared to Ivy who uses seduction as her greatest assist. Reader instead has venus flytraps sprouting from her shoulders/back that she uses as weapons. Her veins and flytraps have given Jason more broken bones than he'd like to admit. Yet somehow he's always sad when the cartilage heels, almost as if it's scrubbing off all traces of her.

If it's Tim then reader is more of a mad scientist, she's always locked up in her room. Coming up with new plants that she finds stunning, and everyone else finds utterly terrifying!! She makes her mother proud by making new planets capable of taking back the earth and planting them where they can do the most harm. Her creations have literally wrecked skyscrapers. I'm thinking she would have roses and thorns sprouting from all over her body. Definitely a bit insecure. Since she's always hidden away. When Tim is tasked with hunting down whoever is behind the new

killer plant attacks. He tracks her to Ivy's hideout. Que a "meet cute" where Tim is trying to bring her to justice and reader is trying to kill him. But she's not good at fighting, she does however end up drawing blood with her thorns!! When it's over Tim has destroyed her lab and new creations and finally gone home. He finds he can't get her out of his head! He thinks it's the pollen, maybe because of her pricking him...but turns out he's really falling in love.

The third option is my favorite trope that I've never really written about (it's coming up in the Catfam series too) but Yandere! Bruce Wayne/Batman falling in love with his rogue's sidekick. Under the pretense of "saving them". He'd end up kidnapping her locking her away in the manner. Ultimate princess treatment only catch is she's tied up and He's found a way to shut off her powers!! 💞💋💞💋💞 utterly obsessed with unhinged Bruce!! Trying to play hero but also so psychotically in love!!

Now because I'm me I have to add in a fourth option of Harvey Dent. I remember shipping him and Ivy as a kid (yes my perspective of love was screwed up even then) So maybe Ivy's little helper developed a crush on Big Bad Harv, one the Harvey wants to use to get back at Ivy with. But her puppy dog crush is so endearing that both sides of him start to get addicted!! She finds him so so beautiful, adores both sides of him. She even decorates his half and half apartment with flowers. Cuter brighter flowers on Harvey's side (sunflowers, orange blossom, sakura) and darker "creepier" things for Harv (Flyraps, black dahlia, thorn veins).

Should I just throw in one for Damian too? Like, remember that one comic where Ivy creates planet children? Maybe she does that and Reader is born. Obviously, she has accelerated growth and the same values and obsessions as her "mother". She's created her to be the ultimate savior to carry on her legacy and succeed. There is so much of her Damian can relate to, so much about her that pricks at his heart when he sees her blooming under the sun. 🥺💋🥺💋. Ivy would totally call her "my sapling" or "my little bloom". Damian hears the nicknames and repeats them much to the reader's surprise and disgust.

Is this anything??

[pan-kojiwa]

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ➻ 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧?

[Characters] ➻ 𝐒𝐚𝐞 𝐈𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 | 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫 | ??? |

[CW] ➻ SFW, stranger to lovers, whipped Kaiser, a bit ooc.

Waffle’s note -> that was long… tbh I didn’t know where I was going with this at some point… I should’ve just made a boyfriend!kaiser *sigh* well anyway, it’s still about cute aggression but with a little bit of obsession??? Also, does it feel like I tried to headcanon my way out of an 2k OS? Yes? Yh me too… it happened twice.. anyways u_u’

❦ 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫

✮ Michael Kaiser was used dealing with malice, to the point it became a second nature to him. After all, it was all he had ever known. Hurting people just came that easily. But everything changed when you showed up, and it’s still the case till this day. Michael Kaiser is mean, arrogant, and overly confident, yet all of that disappears in your presence. In fact, the first time he saw you, he couldn’t even speak. All you did was smile— yet he stood there, stunned. Your smile… so timid, but so bright… it almost blinded him. And your eyes… God. Those innocent sparkles in your eyes when you looked at him… he lost the war before it even began that day. You literally destroyed the thick walls he spent so long building around himself. Yes— the walls that hid the most ugliest parts in him, they got blown up. With just one look. And since then, he’s been craving your gaze— your attention. He’s drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

✮ Kaiser can be really selfish sometimes. From the first time he saw you, he knew he wanted you all for himself. He can’t help it, your entire being is calling to him. It's almost turning into an obsession at this point— and resisting the urge to be all up in your space is becoming hard. He wants to be the only person that you see, just as you're the only one he sees. Your smile when you're happy, your cries when you're sad, your rosie cheeks when you're being shy. Aah—He’s overwhelmed. Feeling so many emotions at once while picturing how cute you are— oh... he would love to have you all to himself.

✮ Kaiser never thought he would become a big, hopeless idiot when in love. Then again, it’s not surprising for someone who spent his life pushing people away and experiencing nothing but hate. But now, being hated, receiving or giving malice, manipulating people… he doesn’t care about any of that. Yeah— It doesn’t matter anymore. All he wants is you. You. The way his name rolls perfectly on your tongue like it was meant for it. The way your ears and nose turns a bright red when he tilts your chin up just to tease you. The way you always take a step back, completely flustered whenever he gets too close—he wants it. He needs it. God no— he craves it. He’s longing for a taste of your love, and he’s ready to do whatever it takes to have you by his side.

✮ Since you’re his first love, or more like the first person he’s allowed himself to love, sometimes he doesn’t quite understand his feelings. Well, he knows it’s love. What he doesn’t understand are the overwhelming urges to touch you, to feel your skin under his fingertips, to hold you in his arms, to grab you and kiss you all over, the urges to bite you just from looking at you smile… He just can’t seem to control himself around you. And he just can’t leave you alone either.

You’re passing by when someone suddenly yanks you into on of the meeting rooms. Luckily, the lights are on, so you could immediately see the face of the culprit.

“Kaiser?! What the fuck!? You scared the shit out of me!”

You quickly push the door closed, just in case someone passes by. You definitely don’t want to get caught in an empty room with one of the players.

Kaiser chuckles with a smirk as he leaned on the table behind him.

“ - Oh really, liebling? My apologies, I didn’t mean to.”

You raise an eyebrow, sceptical. Because from where you stand, he clearly did. Yet, you couldn’t figure out what he was thinking.

“ - What are you doing here? Aren’t you gonna shower with the others?”

“ - Too crowded.” He replies, stepping closer to you with that playful smirk.

Your heart starts racing, and a faint blush creeps on your cheeks. You instinctively back away, your breath hitching. The door was behind you so you know you’re absolutely not trapped in the room. But with him so close, all up in your space feels like all your senses are being tickled. And not to mention how Kaiser had been acting strange lately. He’s always been a bit pretentious with everyone— even when he was alone— but now it seems like he’s paying extra attention to you. At first, you were thrown off, but the way he treats you like you were the most amazing person in the world makes you curious. Or flattered?

“ - Should I give you the key to the staff bathroom?”

“ - Oh my, I’d like that—only if you come with me.”

You blush furiously, your head dropping as you stare at your shoes, completely flustered.

“ - I—”

Kaiser grabs your chin, carefully lifting your head to meet his gaze. His gaze is intense yet soft on you. You could see his inner conflict swirling in those blue eyes, just like a storm.

“ - I know you were about to go take care of the team… He pauses. But… I wanted you all to myself.” He says bluntly freeing your chin, before taking one of your hand in his. He then gives it a light squeeze lifting towards his lips to place a soft kiss on it.

Your flustered look as well as your fluttering eyes makes him clench his jaw. Why are you making this so much harder for him? Why your little pout drives him mad like this? Why is it so hard— so impossible to resist you?

When he’s around you he can’t seem to control his emotions. So his only option left, is to let you go.

“ - If I make you stay here any longer, I might end up never letting you go.”

He tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear and then lets you out of the room, confused and heart pounding hard in your chest

✮ When he sees you, on the bench, wearing a jersey—a little too big for you— with his number and his name, his heart skips a beat. A warm feeling invading all his senses. He can’t see your expression completely from that distance, but he can definitively imagine your sweet lips silently cheering for him as well as your doe eyes, focused on him—full of anticipation for his goal. Suddenly, all he wants is to run to you— grab your head and kiss every inch on your adorable face. Yet he brushes off all this chaos of emotion it with a confident smirk, only sending a flying kiss towards you as he scores a goal for you. He was so close to ditch the whole match just to shower you with kisses.

✮ Kaiser is pretty much an open book once you get to know him. You’re completely aware of how whipped he is for you, even if he still tries to deny how much effect you have on him. The way you nervously play with your hair, or the way your fingers brush against his when you hand him his water battle during the team training— It’s almost ridiculous how it makes him go insane. So much that he can’t believe how much he just wants to hold you in his arms and hide you away.

✮ He likes to scoop you up in his arms. He always says that you look cuter that way but really, you both know it’s just an excuse to hold you in his arms. The way you circle your arms around his neck— pressing your chest tightly against his as your head rests on his shoulder. The way you hide your flushed face in the crook of his neck— oh… He swallows hard, an overwhelming warmth spreading through his entire body. He swallows again as the sensation began to migrate towards his heart. Fuck… it feels like it’s melting. He desperately wants to kiss you… to bite you… you’re so cute to the point he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. If you knew how much his heart is begging for your love right now… would you want him as much as he wants you?

✮ Kaiser always tries to mask what he truly feels with arrogance or confidence— because after all he’s “superior to all those plebeians.” So of course vulnerability isn’t something he comfortable with. He needs complete control over his emotion to feel secure. But it’s impossible with you around. And no matter how hard he tries to resist, he just can’t hide how much your cuteness affects him.

“ - Micheal!”

He turns around as he hears a very familiar voice calling him from afar—your voice. Your beautiful voice. The voice that could bring him down to his knees, even if he tried so hard not to fumble.

The cheerful tone you only use when you see him or when he smiles at you never fails to make his heart burst in flames. He can’t stay away from you, so that probably explains why his feet moved on their own, rushing toward you. And right there, you’re killing him— or more like your expression is. How can you be so cute? Your shy smile—your eyes shining with pure joy and affection— it’s making his heart swell with a softness that he sure isn’t used to—and it’s like a punch in the face.

But he can’t let you see this weak side of him. He can’t possibly let you know that he’s pathetic without you.

“ - Well, well, look who’s back to see this poor, miserable man.”

He stops right in front of you slightly leaning forward.

“ - You make it sound like I abandoned you.” You laugh softly hearing the dramatic tone dripping from his voice. But there’s something else in it—something that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“ - Oh, but you did.” He grabs his chest like what you just said hurt him deeply.

“ - Without any pity for my poor soul, you left me all alone for an entire week.” You tilt your head at the tone in his voice. It was back. That sad tone—no, not sad. Sorrow? You just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“ - I was sick… sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

The way your voice softened to reassure him, how you’re actually scearching for his gaze to make sure he’s okay, it must have done something to his heart, because before you even know, one of his hand is on your chin, tilting your face toward him. But his touch feels hesitant—because in reality he knows that being so close to you, feeling you skin under his fingertips— this is a risky move—but he couldn’t stop himself.

Your hopeful gaze, the way your lips parts as if you wanted to say something but didn’t—

He’s down bad. He wants to hold you, to hug you and kiss you everywhere. You’re too cute for your own good. His heart is pounding in his chest as if it could burst any minute from now.

But Instead, he simply gives you an enigmatic smile, while his fingers slowly let go of your chin.

“ - It’s okay, mein liebling, you don’t have to apologize. I’m just happy you came back to me.”

And with that, he turns away, glancing at you one last before walking away.

“ - Wait—don’t go!” You grab his arm before he can get too far.

“ - Oh? Can’t live without me already?”

You look down, nervous and unsure, blushing slightly as you bite your inner lip. And something in Kaiser snaps. Something he’s been trying—desperately—to control. He can’t stand it anymore. You’re just too fucking cute, too precious.

“ - Fuck…”

He quickly grab your face, pressing a gentle kiss on one of your cheek, then the other. You then close your eyes as you feel him moving toward your left eye, then the right one.

“ - I need you… I need you so badly in my life. I can’t resist anymore… please…”

Your eyes went wide and you feel your heart swell in happiness— you even tear up from the emotions. Without wasting any more time, you wrap your arms around his head , pulling him into a tight hug with his head resting in the crook your neck, a relieved smile on his face.

Silently, you hug each other.

✮ The way you pout sometimes, when you’re looking for him silently scanning the room with your eyes. And the way they instantly light up when you finally spot him— god you’re so cute. It always makes him want to grab you, bite your shoulder or cover your face with kisses.

✮ The way you only look at him— like the other players don’t even matter. The way you massage his shoulders during breaks to help him relax, while you completely ignore the other players— giving him all your attention. It never fails making him feel like he’s special. Your favorite. God, the way you always run to him first with that sincere and genuine smile of yours, shining so brightly on your face. You’re just so perfect in his eyes. To the point, the only way he can manage to regain control is by nearly choking himself.

✮ He likes to tease you. He noticed how much his teasing fluster you and seeing you blush and whimper like that with your adorable doe eyes when he gets close to you makes his heart explode. And he’s addicted to this sensation.

✮ The way you get jealous is so endearing to him—you’re just like an angry little kitten when fans and random people try to flirt with him. He doesn’t even look at them—because they’re not you after— still, he can see how much it pisses you off. Well it’s fine by him. He gets to have you all for himself right?

You and Kaiser are heading toward the training ground entrance, chatting about you are in such a good mood. Well— until a sudden screech resonated in your ears. Of course it’s yet another fan trying to get his attention, screaming his name and saying all kinds of bullshit about how he can “get it.”

You turn around instantly, glaring daggers at whoever said that. Violence isn't an answer. It's a question— the answer is yes. Fully understanding this quote you prepare yourself to throw hands. But before you can even take a step, Kaiser stops you with a smirk. And, really, he doesn’t fucking know where he finds the strength not to pinch your puffed up— angry cheeks. So damn pretty.

With some convincing, you finally step inside the training ground holding in hand. However, the second you’re out of the public eye, you slam him against the nearest wall, gripping his collar.

“ - When are you going to ask me out?” You hiss, frowning and lips pressed into an adorable pout.

Kaiser smirks chuckling as he tilts his head slightly.

“ - Oh, but Liebling... He then slides his hands on your hips, pulling you closer while lowering his head in the crook of your neck. You feel his teeth faintly grazing your skin before pressing a soft kiss on the same spot. You're already mine.”