#this was longer than I meant it to be but oh well this is my fate

[ramp-it-up]

Payback

Call Me Captain When I…| Mood | Captain. My Captain

Summary: Steve promises you something for later.

Word Count: 2.6 K

Pairing: CATWS era Captain Steve Rogers x SHEILD Reader; Sam Wilson x Steve and Reader (Platonic)

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Not Beta’d. Read at your own risk. S MUT! CATWS Steve, Dom Steve, Captain and Sir kink, Brat reader, teasing, semi-public sex, orgasm denial, Sam is horrified, dirty talk, reference to safe word, consentual filming of sex acts, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, begging, rough sex, oral (female receiving) references to m receiving, rough sex, bruising, squirting, raw p in v, aftercare.

A/N: This can be seen as adjacent to the Captain Steve fics that start with Call Me Captain When I..., but can be read as a stand alone. It's you know who's bday today, so I'm having a moment. Block me if you don't like it. Otherwise, let me know if you do.

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NOTICE: I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

----

It was a weekend morning in your quarters and you woke up with your muscles deliciously sore and Steve’s arm draped heavy over your waist like an anchor. He hadn’t moved much all night, just held you close, his big hand resting over the curve of your hip, proprietary even in sleep.

Last night had been another marathon of expression, and you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you snuggled deeper into Captain Steve Rogers' chest.

When your alarm finally buzzed, he groaned, pressing his face into your shoulder.

“No.”

You smiled, turning just enough to brush your lips against his hair.

“Brunch, remember? Sam’s expecting us.”

A beat of silence.

Then his grumbled reply, “Sam can expect disappointment.”

You shifted, stretching, the motion pressing your bare skin to his. 

Always enough to get his attention. 

His hand slid up your ribs, thumb brushing over the mark he’d left on your breast hours before. You felt him smile against your skin.

“Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. Not if you actually want to walk into that diner under your own power.”

You huffed a laugh and finally peeled yourself away, dressing at a leisurely pace under his watchful eye. He didn’t rush you. Just watched. Like he was still filing every detail away for later.

—--

When you and Steve finally strolled into the little diner Sam had picked, the smugness waiting for you was practically a wall. You’d thrown on a light sundress, easy and casual, a big change from your every day uniform. You’d pulled Steve’s hoodie over it before leaving the apartment, and from the barely concealed grin stretching across Sam’s face, it wasn’t exactly a subtle choice.

“Took you long enough,” Sam teased, leaning back against the worn leather bench, arms crossed. His tone was light, but his eyes were sharp.

Steve slid in beside you, settling a warm, steady hand over your thigh under the table.

“Traffic,” he said smoothly.

Sam raised his eyebrow.

“Uh-huh. You two look like you’ve been through traffic. Or a category five hurricane.”

Your cheeks flushed, but Steve only gave that slow, lazy half-smirk, the one that said he knew exactly what Sam meant, and didn’t give a damn.

You ordered coffee and tried to behave, but the ache still pulsed low and deep, the memory of Steve’s voice on repeat in your head.

Say it again. Sir. Again. Louder.

“So,” Sam piped up after a while, glancing between you and Steve with barely disguised amusement.

“Captain Rogers taking well to his... continuing education?”

You almost choked on your coffee. Steve cleared his throat, a low, sharp warning.

“Very well, actually,” you replied sweetly, glancing up at Steve through your lashes.

“Sometimes we get deep... into discussions.”

Sam leaned forward, entirely too pleased.

“Oh, knowing Steve, he’s relentless about driving his point home.”

Steve’s mouth twitched, but his voice stayed calm.

“You have no idea.”

Brunch meandered along, easy and warm, with Sam doing most of the talking as usual while Steve chimed in here and there, all charm and dry wit. You basked in the rhythm of it, the weight of Steve’s hand on your thigh, the occasional brush of his fingers a quiet, possessive reminder.

You sat back in your sundress, legs crossed under the table, toe occasionally nudging his calf, watching Sam and Steve bicker their way through a story about Bucky nearly getting himself arrested over a parking dispute.

You waited until Sam paused, mid-sentence, laughing about something dumb Bucky did on patrol, and then you leaned close to Steve, your voice soft, syrupy-sweet.

“Would you pass me the salt, Sir?”

The reaction was instant. 

You saw the sharp flicker in Steve’s jaw, the curl of his fingers around his coffee cup. Sam froze mid-sip, eyebrows climbing toward his hairline.

Steve passed the salt, his voice cutting and clipped.

“Here.”

You batted your lashes and accepted the shaker like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Sam choked on his juice and you three fell silent, the air suddenly thick with realization.

Steve set his cup down slowly, his hand sliding under the table again, fingers finding your thigh and squeezing hard enough to make your breath hitch.

Sam’s eyes flicked downward, then back up, wide with dawning understanding. Then he rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head. 

“Yep. That’s exactly what I thought. Jesus Christ.”

Steve didn’t even blink, still watching you.

“Excuse us,” he said, his voice smooth and final. “We’ll be back in five.”

Sam raised both hands in surrender.

“Don’t explain. I don’t wanna know.”

—--

Steve’s hand stayed locked around yours as he led you out the back door of the diner. The second it swung shut behind you, he had you pressed against the brick wall, breath stolen by the force of his kiss.

“You think you’re cute,” he murmured against your lips, his hands already mapping familiar territory, sliding beneath your dress.

“You think I’m cute, Steven. Said so yourself last night when I was on my knees…”

Your didn’t voice waver with the way his fingers were teasing the sensitive skin of your thigh, nor with the wicked promise in his eyes.

“Cute was not the word, Sweetheart. And you’ve got some nerve,” he whispered, voice dark and honey-smooth.

“Saying it like that, in front of him. You wanted me to lose it, didn’t you?”

Your only reply was a shiver and the soft, broken sound his mouth swallowed as his his large hands lifted you up.

It wasn’t gentle. And it wasn’t meant to be. It was the kind of punishment you’d goaded him into all morning without saying a word. He entered you quickly, stretched you with no prep for his huge cock, and had you pinned to the bricks, thrusting rough and fast until he spilled inside you with a low, guttural grunt, uncaring of your release.

When he was finished, when you sagged against the brick, dazed and breathless, he straightened your dress for you like a gentleman. 

Except for the glint in his eyes.

“Now you’ll sit pretty through the rest of brunch,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

“And you’ll behave. And maybe, just maybe. I’ll let you cum later.”

You tried to answer. Your knees nearly buckled instead. 

You didn’t finish, but you got what you wanted. 

Steve lost control for you.

You walked back into the restaurant a little too slowly, legs not quite cooperating, the glow on your cheeks unmistakable, and it wasn’t from the sun. Steve trailed behind you, relaxed, sleeves rolled up, cool as a cucumber. He sat down like nothing had happened.

Like he hadn’t just fucked you against a wall.

You tried to smooth your dress. Failed. Tried to sit like normal. Failed harder.

The wince gave you away.

Sam kept his eyes locked on the menu, lips pressed into a thin, grim line. You reached for your water, hands still trembling faintly, downing half the glass in one go. Steve sipped his coffee, unbothered, then glanced your way.

“You good, sweetheart?”

Sam choked on his juice. Again.

You flushed, but your voice was sweet and perfectly polite.

“Yes, Sir.”

Sam slammed his menu shut.

“Nope. I’m out. I fought aliens for this? Bucky when he was a crazed super soldier assassin. But somehow this brunch is still the most traumatizing thing I’ve ever lived through.”

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. Sam pointed directly at you.

“You. Don’t even pretend you’re innocent. You limped back in here like you got benched mid-mission.”

Steve, for once, actually choked on his coffee.

You ducked your head, whispering just loud enough for them to hear: “You should’ve seen what he did last night.”

Sam groaned and threw his napkin on the table.

“I need new friends.”

“You love us,” Steve said easily, his arm sliding along the back of your chair, fingers toying lazily with the strap on your dress.

“I do not,” Sam shot back, already getting up. 

“I’m going to sit at the bar. Text me when you’re done being freaks.”

You leaned against Steve’s side, smug and breathless.

“That was fun.”

Steve’s gaze dropped to you, soft but hungry.

“You’re not off the hook, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t think I was.”

He kissed your temple.

“Good. As long as we understand. Make sure you remember your safe words.”

—--

You were already soaked when he told you to get on the bed.

The second the tripod clicked into place and the camera’s red light blinked on, your heart kicked up a notch.

Steve didn’t speak. Just sat in the chair across from you, fully clothed, legs spread, those thighs on display, blue eyes looking to the bottom of your soul.

“Look at yourself,” he said finally, voice deep and calm.

You turned toward the mirror and saw it: the flush blooming across your chest, the gleam of slick glistening between your thighs, and the wide, glassy look in your own eyes.

“You’ve been waiting all day to cum, haven’t you?”

You nodded, voice already caught in your throat.

“Yes, Sir.”

Steve smiled devilishly. 

“Then let’s make up for lost time.”

—---

The first orgasm came fast. Too fast.

His fingers were inside you before your knees even stopped shaking from the command to spread them. Two strokes. Three. Your back arched, your hips jerked, and he was right there, voice low and steady as your body crumbled.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl. Needed that, didn’t you?”

You were still trembling when he didn’t stop. His mouth replaced his fingers, tongue circling your clit while two fingers worked deep and sure, stroking that spot that had you seeing stars.

The second orgasm broke through the remnants of the first, sharp and blinding. You cried out, hands scrabbling at the sheets. It was sharper this time, tighter, like your nerves couldn’t keep up.

“Steve…fuck!”

He didn’t say a word. Just kept licking, relentless and patient.

The third took you apart. Your vision went white and you tried to twist away, legs trembling violently, but he caught your hips like you were made of tissue paper and dragged you back down to the edge of the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“I…I can’t….”

“Yes, you can.”

You were already shaking, your body too sensitive, every nerve exposed and electric. He filled you to the hilt and didn’t give you time to adjust.

“You wanted to come,” he said, voice thick, breath hot on your neck. “Now take it.”

He fucked you slow at first, then harder. Deeper.

You came again. And again. Four. Five. Six. You lost count somewhere between sobbing his name and biting down on his hand to keep from screaming.

The mirror was brutal. It showed you everything: the shake in your thighs, the drool on your chin, the way your eyes rolled back. You didn’t recognize the woman in the reflection, wrecked and ruined and still begging for more.

The camera kept rolling.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you break,” Steve gritted out, one hand anchoring your hip, the other sliding between your legs again. “Show me one more.”

You shook your head wildly.

“I can’t…I’m gonna…”

“Yes. Yes you are.”

He pounded into you faster, thumb rubbing that overstimulated bundle of nerves in evil little circles that threatened to drive you insane. 

Your body gave up, gave into the violent, full-body detonation. Your vision blurred. Your voice cracked. You went boneless, collapsed onto the mattress in a wet, twitching mess.

And still, he kept going.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, slowing down, riding it out with you. 

“That’s how you cum for me.”

You were sobbing into the sheets, overwhelmed, ruined, and completely wrecked.

He kissed your shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You did so fucking good.”

You didn’t even realize you were still on camera. And you didn’t care.

You just let him gather you into his arms and hold as your body trembled against him as you watched his hand slide down your belly again in the mirror.

You were spent. 

Your body twitched with the aftershocks of too many orgasms stacked too close together. You didn’t know which one had made you cry. The fourth? The sixth?

You didn’t know how long it had been since brunch.

Since he’d denied you.

Since he’d promised you later.

This was later.

Steve was between your thighs, mouth slick and possessive.

You could barely breathe, but he still asked, “Think you’ve got one more in you, sweetheart?”

Your eyes flicked to the mirror.

At the blinking red light.

At the wrecked, and yes, beautiful, woman staring back at you.

At the camera with its steady red light blinking in the corner, still rolling, capturing every second of this.

You opened your mouth, and your voice cracked.

“Yes, Sir.”

He groaned.

“Good fucking girl.”

And then he went back down.

His mouth was everywhere. His tongue circled your clit, then pressed flat against it, slow and hard. Your hips bucked, but he just held you down tighter.

The overstimulation rolled in hard and sharp, blinding you.

You tried to close your legs, but you couldn’t. His forearms pressed them open; you just knew there would be bruises tomorrow.

You were floating on feeling. 

“Stay with me,” he murmured, voice low and ragged. “Give it to me, baby. Let go.”

You sobbed, body curling, every nerve screaming.

And then he found it.

That perfect pressure, that rhythm that pushed you beyond pleasure into something raw, overwhelming, and uncontrolled.

You gasped.

“Steve! Oh my God…I’m…”

“I know.” His tongue flicked harder. Faster. “Let go for me. I want all of it.”

You shattered. Your back arched, your thighs clenched around his head, and then…you released. 

A sob tore out of your throat as your body convulsed, a sudden gush soaking his mouth, his fingers, and the sheets. 

You screamed. You couldn’t stop and you couldn’t think.

Steve moaned into your cunt like he’d been blessed.

“That’s it,” he murmured. “That’s my girl. Fuck, look at you…”

You squirted again, shorter and sharper this time, your body pulsing around nothing, too empty, too full, too much. Your thighs shook violently as another wave hit you, and he didn’t stop licking, didn’t stop praising.

You could only cry.

He licked you through it. Praised you through it. Held you through the fall.

You didn’t even register when it stopped, just felt the cool air on your skin, the hot press of his chest as he gathered you up and whispered softly, “Shhhh, baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

—----

The world came back in pieces.

Steve carried you to the bathroom, gentle with you, quietly murmuring to you the whole time. He ran the water warm, checked the temp three times, then climbed in first and pulled you onto his lap like you were fragile.

You felt boneless, floating.

His arms wrapped around you, lips pressed against your temple. He rocked you in the water and whispered things only meant for you.

“You did so good for me.”

“I love you so much.”

“You gave me everything.”

“I’ve never seen anything so fucking beautiful.”

His hands smoothed over your thighs. Down your back. Up your arms. He washed you carefully. Between your legs, he was even gentler with soft strokes and apologies in every touch.

When your breathing evened out, he held up a bottle of water.

You blinked at him, dazed.

“Small sips,” he said, helping you drink. “I need you to stay hydrated, sweetheart. You lost your whole mind for me.”

You smiled, dazed, cheek pressed to his shoulder.

“I’d do it again.”

He laughed, rich and wrecked.

“Don’t tempt me,” he whispered. “You say that again, and I’m starting the camera back up.”

You groaned. But you didn’t say no.

All you said was, “I love you, Steve Rogers.”

[beuxwhoyouare]

A Way Out

Priya had been married for 20 years when it hit her, she didn’t even like her husband. She had 3 great kids with the youngest, Ty, soon to leave off to college. She had all of them young and by most standards even got married young but she was tired of the man she slept next to every night.

Barreling through the door, Ty barged in with his best friend Max, breaking Priya’s somber train of thought. Ty droned on about how they were gonna go upstairs and play some game or something…but she was phoning in her attention. Max stayed back in the kitchen but lingered a bit longer than usual sparking something in Priya to ask if he was okay?

“What’s on your mind Max?”

“Ahh nothing Mrs. Smith. I just don’t wanna graduate and other stuff.”

“Oh? I thought you were excited for college and getting away?” Priya remains surprised at the lack drive she had seen previously in Max.

“I mean I’m excited to be done with high school but I don’t really want to go to college…and truthfully I’ve been questioning myself a lot. Like am I really this guy? This guy that plays games and wrestles around? I mean it’s not fun like it used to be.”

“Oh Max. This is a transitional period of your life. It’s natural to be scared and worried about what’s next. Have you spoken about this with your parents?”

Almost cutting off the completion of Priya’s sentence, Max blurted out—

“I think I want to be a woman. No, I know I do. And actually I’ve done a lot of research. And—and I found this crazy scientist guy who made this device and I mean I wouldn’t have believed him but we tested the thing out and it worked.”

Priya cautiously approached Max to try and calm him down during the frenetic moment.

“Max what is it? Are you okay did he hurt you?”

“No no no see I’m messing things up I just meant all this to say. It’s a body swapping remote.” He gestured as he looked to his side to pull up the device the size of a smartphone.

“I just point it at the subject and we swap poof done in an instant, with a jolt or two I guess. And —and I know it sounds crazy but Mrs. Smith I wanted to see if maybe you’d let me be you?”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you Max but this prank isn’t very funny.”

“I swear it’s not a joke and I mean I could even just have brainwash swapped you so you wouldn’t even known it happened but I believe in consent and I wanted to make sure you were okay with it. It—it doesn’t have to be permanent maybe just a trial to like let me see if I really do want to be a woman. I mean you guys are like my family, mine doesn’t even know if I’m there or not and I just thought it’d be a safe place?”

Priya’s mind raced. Could Max be telling the truth? Could a solution to her dissatisfaction in marriage really have just presented itself to her like this? But if it hadn’t what if this was all just a cruel joke?

“Max, assuming this isn’t a joke, what are you gonna say to Ty? Or what do I say to my John my husband?”

“I mean, I don’t think I’m ready to come out yet, can’t this just be our secret?”

Priya nearly salivated at the thought of the opportunity placed right in front of her. This is it, a way out of this dead end marriage and even better she wouldn’t have to abandon her family. She’d still be close.

“All right let’s do it Max, but let’s just have you spend the night so if you have concerns or worries you can reverse it.”

“Well Mrs. Smith don’t you mean you spend the night?”

Max winked and before he even let Priya digest the magnitude of what she agreed to he slapped the remote and the jolts consumed them for what felt like ages.

A ringing filled their ears and then thumping. Wait that was pounding on the steps, Ty came rushing down the stairs to yank on Priya’s arm.

“Dude! Max lets go! I’ve got the game readied up we’re in queue let’s go!”

Max in Priya’s body already acclimated to the sensation from his first swap quickly informed Ty that Max was spending the night tonight before winking at the disheveled 18 year old still trying to understand what happened.

The new Max blindly followed Ty up the stairs as John walked into the kitchen side door.

The new Priya greeted her new husband with an uncharacteristic smile, hug, and forceful going in for a kiss. John surprised by the show of affection caved and wrapped his arms around her rear. Clearly things were going to be different.

Later that night, Priya laid in the guest room bed when she was woken up by peculiar yet familiar sounds. She got up and walked around the halls until she pinpointed the sound in her former bedroom. When she pressed her ear into the door she gasped. Creaks and squeaks of coils rang out along with deep moans….she smiled with her new masculine face. This really was a way out for both of us.

That was 4 years ago now…

Priya, now for obvious reasons going by Max now, was a personal trainer and fitness coach. He didn’t go to college but instead focused on chiseling out his once skinny frame. She didn’t have to go the cliche route of becoming such a dude when she became Max but it just felt easiest. Plus the pump sends her young hormones raging and she was addicted to pump and dumping. Must come with the age…or lack there of.

Max, as Priya, found a renewed interest in her husband and even recently found out she’s somehow pregnant. Much like Priya, Max found it easier to cave into cliche gender roles and John being a fine specimen of a man didn’t really hurt either.

Max invited Priya over because the family was set to celebrate Ty’s graduation. Being an empty nester, Max needed extra help to decorate the family home for the party. Priya’s last client at the gym made her run later than expected pushing her to text Max.

“Hey running behind with this client. Can I freshen up at your place before the party?”

“That’s okay with me Max 😘” Max replied with the not non-chalant emoji placement.

Priya and Max filled each other in on the latest goings on in their lives as their hung up balloons and streamers when Priya deemed it close enough for her to get ready.

“Shit. All this clothes is too tight now that I’m bigger I guess.” she said as she tried to wear old formal clothes Ty left at the house before moving for college.

Just then Max came in without knocking, hand full of John’s formal clothes dropping to the floor as he stood agape in the doorway.

That’s definitely not the body I left behind, he thought to himself. Priya started turned and then quickly began to use her hands to cover herself for modesty before grabbing the nearby towel.

“Mrs. Smith! I’m getting changed in here!”

“Max when did? I guess….I made a decision before I really saw what I could achieve?”

“Well Mrs. Smith. I put in the work and you had other desires you know? Like you’re gonna be a mom again!”

“I know but maybe. Don’t you want your life back Priya?!”

Max almost hysterically began pleading with Priya to give him his old life back. Just minutes ago they were having a good time updating each other on how good their lives have been recently and now this? Priya was shocked but also nearly vengeful. This man wants a life she built for herself? She got out of a miserable marriage and found happiness for herself. He’s not taking that from her.

“No, MRS. SMITH. This is my life and I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m Max Euceda and I’ve always been.”

“You know I could just get the remote and change us back. But I was being nice.”

The pregnant mother made her way to her bedroom and as she pulled the remote from the drawer, the personal trainer came swiftly barreling through to snatch it.

“Nice people don’t call themselves nice.” Priya shouted at her former body before running back to the restroom and locking the door.

Sifting through the settings she found the setting Max once told her about. Brainwash! This would fix this issue once and for all. Max slapped the door calling and crying for Priya to let him have her beefy body. Priya opened the door to the sobbing mess and stood her ground.

“No. I didn’t work my ass off for all this just for some man to take it from me. But if you want this meat so bad you can have it.” Priya said as she slapped the remote. The jolt was one sided this time and when it stopped, the crying pregnant woman shook her head and looked up at the scantily clad best friend of her son…or so she now thought.

“Hey Mrs. Smith. I just don’t know if I can do it I mean you’re married and happy! But if you really want to do it in the backyard let’s do it before they all get here for the party.” Priya’s male hormones were getting the best of her but she also knew her former body well too. Every pregnancy made her so feral.

“Get on your knees Priya. You’re gonna love this.” Priya cockily smiled as she began to warm up her hardening meat.

[jeztershadow]

analysis about pavlova and sugarfly, because they are doomed and I am insane (heavy spoilers bellow to ep. 10, theories as well)

Pavlova is inspired by Eros (or basically any Cupid)

Beyond that, my initial theory about Sugarfly’s backstory—before Episode 10—was that she originally arrived in “Paradise” (not the biblical one meant to explain death, but more like a utopia, as most Cookies do), and freely enjoyed the experiences it had to offer.

That is, until she was chained there. (I saw a theory suggesting her metal shoes were actually some kind of shackles, and I was obsessed with that idea.)

At some point, once she was bound and no longer able to fly, Pavlova may have helped Sugarfly regain her confidence—maybe even taught her to hover or glide again despite her restraints. That would explain why she doesn’t seem to mind taking orders or running messages, even with how cruel—or just cold—Pavlova acts toward her.

“No one” can leave Paradise.

So when Sugarfly finally gets the chance to leave—and to fly again— Pavlova, the Cookie obsessed with love, finally experiences it for himself. And in doing so, he has to do something different: For the sake of the one he loves... He has to let her go.

He can’t chain her to Paradise. Even as he feels himself trapped within its gardens—watching them crumble, watching Sugarfly and everyone else leave—he remains behind. And that’s heartbreaking.

The line “Even with her wrinkled, tattered wings, she flew higher than I ever could” is just... my god.

Sugarfly is free. He is not. Anyways,,

First off, he says:

“Envy is just another form of love.”

And again:

“She flew higher than I ever could.” 👁️👁️👁️👁️

“Sugarfly Cookie can be so dull sometimes!” — he says this about her, because she never even considers escaping Paradise until Episode 10.

“No one can escape from Paradise, heh.” He clearly has some sort of tie to Paradise, but we still don’t know exactly what.

“Wherever there’s love, that’s where I’ll be!”

But when Sugarfly finally leaves Paradise... He changes. He becomes an adult. His pupils flip upside down. As if losing her turned his whole world upside down. Or as if love meant nothing without her.

We don’t know exactly why he pretends to be a child, But we know this: He’s Eros. And Sugarfly has a clear Psyche parallel.

Maybe Pavlova transforms into a child because it’s the only way he can still feel or express joy— Maybe he’s so emotionally broken that, as an adult, he can’t even pretend to be okay. But as a child, it’s easier to play the fool. Just like how Eros disguises himself.

When Aphrodite is offended by Psyche’s beauty, she sends Eros to strike her with a cursed arrow—one that would make Psyche fall in love with the first creature she saw, and lose that love the moment they looked into each other's eyes. Eros accidentally pricks himself with the arrow. And falls helplessly in love with her.

Their love begins in the dark, in secrecy. Eros hides his face. Hides his identity. And in doing so, he discovers real purpose in his love for Psyche. And Psyche falls for the god—without illusions, without appearances.

💔💔💔

Back to Sugarfly and her wings.

She hates her wings. So much so, she poured syrup on them—not to fly, but to make them beautiful.

“When syrup touched my wings, I was reborn!”

But the moment she did, she bound herself to the Garden. She couldn’t fly anymore.

“These wings are all I need to be happy!”

She talks about “ugly things” a lot, which could hint that she saw herself as ugly. So she didn’t want to exist. 💔💔

“These beautiful wings are everything I’ve ever wanted!” “Why do unpretty things exist?” “I hated my dull, boring wings!”

In one of their dialogues:

Pavlova Cookie: “Don’t you ever wish to fly again…?”

Sugarfly Cookie: “Oh, but there is no need to fly in Paradise.”

Pavlova Cookie: “No wonder you’re such a slowpoke!”

Sugarfly Cookie: “I’m sorry, Pavlova Cookie. I’ll do better…!”

Pavlova Cookie: “Forget it.”

Pavlova Cookie: (I wish to see her fly freely… just like she did when she first entered the Garden…)

He wants her to be happy as herself—not trapped in a version of herself that she’s not. 💔💔💔

This ties directly into the official game art that says:

“They had different ideas of happiness.”

Pavlova’s idea of happiness was her—because he loves her. But Sugarfly’s happiness lies in beauty—her own or in the world around her.

When Sugarfly finally leaves Paradise, he says:

“Was it my destiny to watch her walk away?”

Just like how Eros, struck by his own arrow, was doomed to love Psyche— But as soon as she saw his face, their fate was sealed: separation.

Pavlova once saw Sugarfly as weak, submissive. She didn’t push back against his cruelty, and that frustrated him. He wanted her to resist. To have a backbone.

You can also see him being rude to her as some “tsundere” copying- Maybe he was defensive over himself like “ha! As if I would fall in love with her… someone who can think for themselves.” But this is just a little perspective

anyway

But now— Now she chooses for herself. She chooses freedom. Something he desperately wanted, too.

Even when he talks to the Tree of Wishes, he asks:

“...Can I be free?”

He manages to escape the monsters (apparently), so the real thing keeping him there is fear—or maybe a contract, or bond—with Eternal Sugar. And honestly, he has good reason to be afraid of her.

I mean, there’s a lot to figure out from why Pavlova can’t leave,, i mean he could tag along with the others? Maybe he is bound to either the Paradise/garden or Eternal Sugar as a whole— Still not quite sold on just that “he’s scared of her that’s all” (saw a theory that she trimmed his wings like u do with pet parrots)

either how—

he cared about Sugarfly in his own way. He wanted her to be free.

Watching her leave broke him. But he also got to see her fly again. Free—just like he always wanted her to be.

(His heart shattered.) AFTER ALL…. Who makes the cupid fall in love???? HMMM????

But maybe... that’s what made him grow up. Like... he accepted her freedom, and in doing so, accepted his own fate to remain behind in Paradise,,,, 🤧🤧🤧

in his core love is innocent as a child, maybe he choose to take that form? who knows

Even though her wings are still coated in syrup in the final cutscene— Pavlova appears fully transformed: taller, long-haired, his wings bigger, his ribbons longer—just like his "true" sprite (maybe??)

And also— They have a red bow connecting them.

The red string of fate comes from East Asian folklore, and it says that an invisible red thread connects two people who are destined to be together—regardless of time, place, or circumstances AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[calliopedoesstuff]

That Funny Feeling— A NagiReo FanFic!

"My chest feels funny."

"Huh?" Reo immediately went into a slight panic mode. "Are you okay? Was it the food? Just tell me. I'll give those guys a piece of my mind-"

"No," Nagi interrupted. "It's a good feeling. But- I only get it with you. It's weird."

In short, NagiReo fluff one shot!

Hey so uhhh I wrote this!! Go read it Ao3 here or read it below! my friend, Leo(w3tlettuce), made the fanart at the end too! Thank you Enjoyyy >_<!!

"Oooh, Seiii," Reo called as he entered Nagis' barren, yet expensive apartment room. He slipped his shoes off at the entrance, making himself right at home as usual.

"Hi," Nagi called back from his room. He didn't bother to move, deciding he was too comfortable under the duvet with his phone.

Reo walked in with a wide smile. "I got lunch!" He said, holding up the take out bags from some high end restaurant. "You can't keep eating those weird pouch things."

Nagi gave an incoherent grumble, his eyes glued to his phone. Reo hopped on the bed, his back against the windows ledge and his legs draped over Nagis, whose were under the thick blanket. Reo reached over and turned off Nagis phone.

He stared at the black screen, very disappointed his phone was shut off. "Hey, rude. You killed me."

"Sit up," Reo chuckled. He leaned back, a sudden stabbing feeling shot through his back, to which he quickly flinched away. Choki. "Ow!"

"Yeah, get him, Choki," Nagi weakly cheered as he sat up. He grabbed the cactus, moving it so it was no longer behind Reo.

"You're cactus is an asshole," Reo grumbled.

"No, he's great. He's not a hassle," he said, side eyeing Reo.

"I think you love it more than me..." Reo frowned at the thought. He huffed, pushing the thought away.

"You said you got food?" Nagi looked at Reo expectantly.

"Oh, yeah." Reo grabbed the take out bag, pulling out two sealed meals for him and for Nagi. Reo had a meal of ichibo steak, the same for Nagi. Reo then pulled out a bottle of lemon tea, presenting it to Nagi with a smirk. "Found some nice lemon tea, figured you'd like it."

"Hey, thanks," Nagi said, grabbing the bottle from him. His favorite. Nagi couldn't help the subtle butterflies swarming his stomach.

Reo smiled, patting Nagi on the head. "Eat up, get some real nutrients in you."

With that, the two began eating. They sat in silence on Nagis bed, a familiar routine the two seemed fond of.

After barely even three bites, Nagi grumbled, faltering in his eating. Reo looked over, knowing all too well what this meant.

"Eating a hassle?" Reo said in a soft voice.

Nagi nodded, setting his chopsticks down. But Reo only picked them up again. He grabbed a piece of steak, holding it up to Nagis mouth. "C'mon, Sei. Eat."

Nagi accepted the food, never against someone doing something for him. He’d never get tired of Reo feeding him, the purple haired boy even lending Nagi a hand in drinking his tea.

Reo fondly watched Nagi as he fed him. The boy was so simple, a lazy genius, but Reo was enamored. Nagi was more than he looked and they both knew it. Not only a soccer genius, but a guy who really does care. Maybe he never properly learned how to show his love, but Reo saw the signs better than anyone.

Reo set the chopsticks down, putting their finished meals aside. "How was that, Sei?"

"Good as always," Nagi nodded, flopping back his pillow.

Reo smiled and slipped under the duvet as well. Nagi looked over with that neutral look. But something was off, something seemed softer. Something stirred in Nagis chest. "My chest feels funny."

"Huh?" Reo immediately went into a slight panic mode. "Are you okay? Was it the food? Just tell me. I'll give those guys a piece of my mind-"

"No," Nagi interrupted. "It's a good feeling. But- I only get it with you. It's weird."

Reos face flushed. Was this Nagis' way of confessing? Or was Nagi too clueless to see this wasn't just any old feeling, but something special. Something more between the boys' friendship.

Nagi wrapped his arms around Reo, pulling the boy close. Reo was going crazy, but kept his composure to the best of his ability. This was a dream come true.

"Nagi-?"

"Shh," Nagi quickly hushed, burying his face against the top of Reos head. "You talk too much. Such a hassle."

Reo let out a shaky chuckle. He hesitated before his arms came around Nagi, reaching a hand up to run a hand through the soft white hair.

"Mmm. Keep doing that," Nagi hummed, his eyes closing. He held Reo in a protective hold, like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

"Yes sir," Reo chuckled, continuing to card his fingers through Nagis hair.

Nagi snuggled impossibly close, their legs tangled, not a single gap between their bodies. Reo was, for lack of better words, absolutely losing his shit. he was a flustered mess, trying so hard to not squeal in excitement.

"I love you, Reo..." Nagi muttered.

That was it. Reo officially died, right here, in Seishiro Nagis arms.

"I-I love you too, Nagi."

Reo looked to the cactus on the window sill, glaring at the plant like it murdered his family. “More than Choki?” he asked.

“Know your limits.”

“Oh, c’mon!”

[lxnarphase]

satoru who uses possessives in front of things like “my sweet girl” “my cute girlfriend” sighs in adoration….. satoru. < 3 always has to remind you that you’re his.

- 🪻

oh absolutely he has to put it in front of anything he calls you, even if it's just your name. 'my, my, my,' it's one of his favorite words when he's referring to you. he's so so possessive, the poor man goes insane if he can't think about you.

just imagine it, satoru being separated from you for longer than three days just comes back home and he doesn't have his sunglasses or blindfold on, and his eyes are wide and those pretty blue irises are charged to the point wher you shiver the moment his eyes land on you. "there you areee," he beams with a nearly insane smile, unblinking as he stalks toward you. if you didn't know this was your man, you would've been scared shitless. no, no, this was your satoru whenever he missed you too long.

"my pretty girl, my little angel, my babyyyy," he coos to you as he backs you further into the house until you bump against the wall and he towers over you. "missed you. missed you s'much. my princess...but you waited for me, right? waited for your 'toru to come home? hm?"

after you give him that nod and small 'yes', he's picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom, his hands squeezing your ass as he holds you. it's almost scary how it surprises you how hard he is already even though this always happens, but fuck, if it doesn't do something to a girls ego when a man like satoru gojo gets this turned on just thinking about you being his.

"good girl," he purrs into you ear, kicking the bedroom door shut behind him. he lays you gently on the edge of the bed and kneels between your legs, pulling down your longuing shorts. you know you hear the quiet sound of a rip but you can't think too much about it, not when satoru is staring you down like this..."you're always so good for me, aren't you," he asks as he puts your legs over his shoulders, kissing up your inner thighs. "mm, it's cause your all mine? mine? mhmm, you're mine."

i just. i love possessive satoru.....

[codacheetah]

Practice drawing that got out of hand

[doitforstamets]

ofc<3

[ef-1]

girlhood

[piglii]

Just finished Misericorde volume 1! Putting this all under a read more but I'll drop a quick spoiler-free review, followed by a spoiler-full review followed by just some of my theories regarding the mystery elements.

Everything below the cut!

Spoiler-Free Stuff:

I really enjoyed it. The mystery still needs more pieces before I'll feel like I can confidently say anything for sure but I have some ideas brewing. I'll be pretty psyched to move into the heavier mystery elements, this first volume definitely feels more focused on getting to know all the characters (which I like! I like pretty much everybody in their own way but I do want to give a special shoutout to Hedwig for being a main character that I actually really enjoy, which is pretty rare for me. She is insanely relatable on a personal level I wasn't expecting.)

And the art style's nice! I really like how the nuns are all basically wearing the same thing but have such distinct faces and tones that you can usually tell them apart. I definitely have my favorites (Aside from Hedwig herself... probably Darcy, Katherine, Moira, Eustace in that order but I really do like all of them a lot.) Also the music is pretty good. It's very fun and dynamic. I've re-listened to only a couple of the songs from the soundtrack outside of reading the VN itself but I particularly like the song that plays in the intro and Glass Chapel, which plays very early on and is probably the moment I really got interested in the story.

It's hard to give too much more away in this section without spoiling stuff but suffice to say I really enjoyed it so far. I'm hoping I can get more people to read it cause I really wanna talk about the characters and mystery and such. But I recommend. Here's the steam page if you want to check it out for yourself.

The only real criticism I have so far is technicaly, and it's that there's an audio cue for people knocking on doors that sounds extremely realistic with my headphones on that almost made me jump out of my seat several times, which I don't think was necessarily intentional? A less realistic knocking sound effect would... definitely be appreciated, that shit freaked me out like every time.

As for story criticisms, I prefer to wait until something is actually over to say anything. There could be something early on where I'm like "man that seems like bad!" and then 2 volumes later it could turn out to be a purposeful plot element or an interesting subversion of expectations. And then I would look very silly. Not that I really do have a lot to say plot criticism wise because it's early on, but I'd definitely like to see how it all shakes out first.

Anyways, more stuff below. SFW Sasukes to save your virgin eyes from spoilers.

SPOILERY STUFF

I really do like Catherine II. Love a good "character who is not physically there but had such tremendous gravity on the setting that their departure is still being felt as everything gets bounced back around from the lack of weight." In particular, her intro talking to Hedwig (which I revisited just a couple nights ago, streaming it for a friend) really grabbed me.

I would say Hedwig's whole lifelong predicament of being an Anchoress will definitely strike home with people like me who are kinda uuuhhhhhhhh extreme homebodies. I definitely feel like Catherine II's brief relationship with Hedwig is pretty analogous to people who've made many of their friends online - never actually getting to see or touch them but still having them impact your life all the same. In particular, when you've spent most of your life alone. Not to be too personal or anything but I've only really recently had long-time internet friends move close enough to me to be in regular driving distance in the past few months and it's led to more social interaction in the span of a few months than I usually get in years, and I can definitely relate to Hedwig's confusion about everything. But I do find her really charming as a main character. Her constant feeling of not feeling like she belongs even as most of the sisters are trying to be kind to her in their own way make me wish I could pop open an ice cold ginger ale for her. Maybe hand her a GBA SP and watch her go crazy on Pokemon Emerald, I don't know. I just find her very moe.

I definitely have a lot more to say about this topic but I'd feel like it's kind of personal to just drop in the middle of this all so I'm gonna keep it to a minimum with just that previous paragraph. Suffice to say, Hedwig has been one of the most enjoyable protagonists for me personally in a long while. I usually prefer lesser known side characters but she just really grabbed me.

Anyways.

It had a lot of little moments I love. Everyone's characterized in a way that really makes them stand out - in particular, I do feel like literally everyone at this the abbey in some way either Have Problems or have been rejected by society for some other reason. Pretty much everybody here is a reject or an outcast and despite their bickering, the nuns do generally make an effort to show they care for eachother. Which, you know, if you're a tumblr user reading this I'm sure you will find something there. You will probably see a particular character and go, "Oh yeah, I know someone exactly like this personally." I do love a good story about people who are generally outcast by society getting to know people that care about them and understand them in a way the rest of the world wouldn't exactly. It's gud. Nothing terribly novel but I think it's executed well, which is the important bit.

I do have some smaller thoughts on stuff but nothing terribly important enough to write out here, so instead I'm just putting a compilation of some of my favorite little moments, followed by theories.

(I promise this game isn't an eroge or anything, it just has one single hot tub scene. It's tasteful. Prommy.)

Anyways.

THEORIES:

Theory #1: Regarding Catherine II

I haven't actually seen that many people talking about the prologue which is surprising to me because it obviously seems to be setting up a really big plot element, which is that I presume one of the women at the abbey are the character only labelled as "The Handsome Man" in disguise. Having gotten caught up in the War of the Roses and all that fun stuff, I assume he flees to the abbey to lay low for a while. Now I assume part of the story will unfold such that you'll be led to assume that it's one of the cast we've already gotten to know... but my money is that this is Catherine II. Now, I can't say for certain if this is going to lead into any kind of trans-ish territory because it is the 15th century, but I could definitely very much see a path where this story presents a person living in this time in an era where it wouldn't be accepted to be trans, and have that essentially be part of the plot without saying it directly. I think this would go a long way towards explaining her absolute fervor for living life and finding something that brings you joy that she tried to inspire in all of the other nuns. I can imagine a scenario in which the Handsome Man has to go into hiding cause of political reasons, shows up at this abbey disguised as a nun and finds that they actually enjoy it incredibly, and essentially does the 15th century version of transitioning. If that is the direction the story is going, I think that'd be sweet, though it would be kind of sucky in the respect that the whole story kind of revolves around her murder.

That being said, I don't think she was murdered. I straight up think Eustace is lying in the near final scene we get at the end of Volume one. My current theory is that Catherine II is, and I'm not sure how to say this well, doing some Scooby-Doo villain ass-shit in regards to the monstrous apparition we keep seeing. My only guess as to why she would do this is out of fear of being recognized in the midst of this war, and deciding to go even deeper cover as the boogeyman of this creepy old abbey. Theoretically, if Catherine II in her Scooby-Doo ass disguise could frighten everyone out of the abbey, then she'd have free reign of the place until the war was over. It'd be a much safer position to be in than trying to actively disguise yourself as a nun. In this theory, I would also have reason to believe that she's the one who carved that evil looking sigil near Hedwig's cell, to discourage her even more from looking into the mystery. It would be a great parallel to Hedwig's dilemma vis a vis being alone and in peace versus having to be around others and living with a sort of constant discord. Like, if Catherine II makes the choice to ultimately go into permanent solitude, hiding by herself for the rest of her life while Hedwig chooses to do the opposite (I'm holding out hope that the finale will have her choosing to leave her cell again. Committing some double-dipping on that particular sin, hell yeah), I think that would make for some interesting, opposite-bound character arcs. You know, some criss cross. With the character arcs.

ALSO: Side note, I think the person that Hedwig is talking to at the very beginning post one year timeskip (who, you know, is kind of a stand-in for the reader but whom I assume is an actual character we know of) is, I think, Catherine II herself. I can't think of anyone more fitting to be filled in on all of the details, given that the majority of the other characters would already know most of what's happened. Also, it would mean getting a fun little scene to parallel the first scene we got of them getting to know eachother, which is still probably my favorite scene in this whole VN so far.

Anyways, I think the best evidence I have to support this is how touch and go Catherine II was with her friendships (and maybe more than friendships...?)

She'd get close to people by taking an interest in their hobbies... get to know them pretty intimately... and then maybe privately grow fearful that they'd discover her secret and move on to someone else. That's my best guess, anyways. Perhaps she just has severely undiagnosed ADHD. But it would track considering that she seems to be knowledgeable about several areas that I don't feel like you're average commoner would know - how to play music, playing chess, etc etc. She had all these crazy talents and a very sharp mind, and it wouldn't be strange to know a commoner that could do one or two of these things, but it really does seem like Catherine II had a working knowledge of many things, which would make sense to me if she were raised to be a person of higher status.

I think maybe the only character that was in the know was probably Eustace herself given that she mentions they were the two that were closest. I can definitely imagine a world in which Eustace is still actively collaborating with Catherine II, thus her very lurid story about carrying Catherine II's severed head. This would, naturally, implicate Moira as well since Eustace mentions that they both personally handled Catherine II's body, a story that I think might just be a total fabrication. I'm not 100% sure that Moira is in on it but it's a little more likely, I think. It would also parallel the scene in which they stop by the village, with Moira and Eustace stopping to have a quick whisper that upsets Hedwig, when in fact they're just trying to cover for her little surprise party. The concept of them having secrets that upset Hedwig, but ultimately exist for a good reason would be really fitting. This little exchange would be kind of a microcosm of that, in this theory.

At the very least, if this specific theory isn't correct at all, I do still strongly believe that there are multiple conspirators.

THEORY #2: Regarding the Sword

So this one's a little more vague and I haven't quite figured out a way to slot it into everything yet, but I feel like it's worth mentioning. I do think there are two swords at play, which would be a really good way to liven up the mystery. I think the investigation of the mystery will reach such a point that it simply doesn't make sense for there to have been only one sword as the murder weapon - my only real reasoning is based entirely on this biblical quote spoken by Eustace:

"And they said, Lord, behold, here are two swords. And he said unto them, It is enough."

Which makes sense for the context of the situation in that they are literally splitting up to find Flora. But also, if it were a direct reference to the fact that there are two swords that could be the murder weapon at play, that would be a really funny to put such a direct hint in plain Latin so early on, just right in front of the reader's face.

If this theory is correct, I do think it'll be more relevant once we get into the nitty gritty of investigating the murder itself. The real nuts to butts of who was doing what, where and when. I think things will present themselves in such a way that it will have been impossible for the murder to have been committed with the sword... unless there were secretly a second sword, for some reason.

Wait also it just occurred to me that Angela keeps a dagger (the eponymous Misericorde, right? I think?) and that definitely could've been the weapon used to inflict the smaller wounds on Catherine II before the decapitation. Hmmmmm. Much to think about.

THEORY #3: Regarding Romance

This is very vague and probably not a surprise but I'm quite sure that at least two of the nuns are in a relationship. I'd imagine this will play into the actual mystery somehow, but I could not tell you specifically how. I'm not sure I could even really name you who specifically (Besides Katherine and James' thing, obviously but that's already been revealed.) But, like, come on. Look at these.

I'm not particularly good at eke-ing out romantic subtext but I feel reasonably confident about this based on vibes alone. Also based on the Soup's very uuuhh heated rant near the end. I have nothing more to say on this theory because I assume it's direct relevance will be more apparent later (if this is correct.)

THEORY#4: If Catherine II WAS Actually Murdered

So pretend for a moment that my first theory is completely bunk and I am way off course. In that case, I don't think I have enough evidence to put together a reason that someone would want to murder Catherine II - given how she kind of flitted about from person to person, I can definitely see jealousy being the primary motivator. But I would be surprised if the motive were as simple as just that. I think I might actually just need more textual stuff to look at whenever the second volume comes out to really put out any kind of further guesses. There are a lot of angles and a lot of people who would technically have reason to want to murder Catherine II. It could end up being a "everyone is in on it" or a "no one is in on it" type of deal.

That being said, my top guesses as to the culprit are:

#1 - Mother Superior - Basing this entirely on vibes, brother.

#2 - Moira - She's simply way too sweet. As much as I personally like her, Moira's been very present in Hedwig's journey towards personhood and I wouldn't be super surprised if part of her motivation for doing this was to keep tabs on her murder mystery investigation while presenting a kind face.

#3 - Flora - Given Flora's consistently been the one most often to fly off the handle, I could potentially see this but don't consider it terribly likely.

#4 - Catherine II herself - It would not be totally inconceivable for the story to go this kinda dark route, though how exactly she would both injure herself, followed up by a self-decapitation in such a way as to hide herself as the perpetrator, I don't know. Then again, she was a talented woman, who knows.

#5 - The Devilish Apparition - If this is in fact not one of the other nuns playing at something, then sure, why not. I'm not of the opinion that this story is going to have actual supernatural elements but like, why not. Just throwing it out there.

And that's mostly all I have to say!

Heads up, I'm not very good at solving mysteries! I miss a lot of details and sometimes don't think of things through all angles! Sometimes I just do a vibe based reading and let the story surprise me, but having read Umineko recently (which very directly does kind of ask the reader to try solving the mystery for themselves) I am taking a more serious attempt at figuring out the key to this story before it actually happens. Sorry if I'm totally off base on some of these, but with my shotgun scattershot method, I usually hit at least one or two small things of note. Thanks if you read all the way to the bottom for this, I don't typically write out long ass posts like this but I had a lot of fun trying to figure this one out and can't wait for more people to read it, as well as for Volume 2 to come out.

If you haven't bought Misericorde but for some reason felt compelled to read through this whole post anyways, here's another link for you to go check it out! It's like 9 bucks on steam! If you were interested enough to read this spoiler-review, it'll probably be worth your time!

And if you do finish it... be sure to check out that gallery afterwards! ;)

[hippielittlemetalhead]

I should be working on my Punk!Steve thingy and I will but first I am running on enough caffeine to stop an elephant's heart and 3 hours of sleep and I had a ✨thought✨.

Son of Hades Steve but more Bianca di Angelo than Nico. He's charming and charismatic but even if people like him there's still that sense of Other and people fear what he's capable of (King Steve) and the stereotype that he's bad luck and not like other demigods and almost less human than them (relationship with Nancy and the bullshit scene). His parents know and his stepdad refuses to acknowledge him more than he needs to and his mom resents him for ruining her marriage even though she's the one who revenge cheated in retaliation for her husband sleeping with another secretary. So they send him to Camp Half Blood as soon as possible and he is there the majority of the year.

And

Son of Artemis Eddie. BECAUSE in many ancient civilizations the words/phrases we translate to virgin would be closer to unwed young woman rather than never slept with someone. Because Artemis has a lover, Orion but upon his death vows to never wed and declares herself a maiden/virgin goddess. So either like copying Athena in PJO or via the occasional ONS she has a handful of kids. We'll say for easiness sake she 99.9999% of the time has girls that she keeps as part of her hunters. The occasional .0001% that's a boy she sends to the father or the camp. Eddie was left on his father's doorstep in a soft grey woven bassinet and swaddled in silver cloth that seemed to glow with the light of the full moon. His dad isn't the best but once he was delivered Artemis didn't really check in with him and only finds out he'd been sent to his Uncle Wayne (who can see through the Mist) when one of her hunters who was working with CHB sees and recognizes him as a child of her Lady and reports back to Artemis. She claims him at the campfire the next full moon and he immediately starts calling only the Apollo kids cousins and they sort of adopt him as one of their own right back when he proves to be terrible at anything related to either his mother or uncle except taking care of kids (he is great at helping with little ones who are new to the camp or have to visit the infirmary) and/or animals, being the type to take little lost campers under his wing and a talent for music that would rival the most gifted of Apollo's cabin.

A la PJO style we meet our heroes around the ages 11-12, Steve had been in and out of the camp routinely since he was literally a toddler. He was found at daycare by a kind nymph who went by Claudia and her satyr toddler (Dustin 😏) and told the Harringtons about the camp. She did not expect them to basically send their 3 year old to boarding school most of the summer.

Dustin later found Eddie on his own since he was now technically 9 to Eddie's 12 but still physically pretty toddler looking it took some effort and Claudia had to intervene when she finally found her son and explain to the nice mortal man and his demigod nephew about Eddie being of Greek god descent and that with the rise of monsters trying to get at him already he should go to the camp for a bit to train. Dustin would stay at the camp with Eddie partially as punishment for running off and partially to help him acclimate and make sure Eddie was on time for when Claudia helped Wayne Iris message Eddie. Eddie is maybe 13 and been at camp for about a year when he gets claimed.

That's all I've got really besides Steve and Eddie try being friends cause they're both odd kids out w/who their parents are but it's a little out of nowhere after a year knowing of each other rather than knowing each other but also Steve has powers and charisma and that makes him worth hanging out with to majority of campers where Eddie can get kids to stop crying and is a Disney princess with how much animals like him. There's some animosity cause Steve is jealous Dustin is spending so much time with Eddie, especially when they and some of the other campers and younger satyrs discover DND and Eddie feels rejected cause they didn't click at all and his emotionally traumatized little ass made that Steve's fault. Till they're 16 and 17 and assigned a quest with Dustin as their satyr and third and they have to learn to get along and realize how much they have in common like the fear of what comes next when they age out of being campers and yeah Steddie happens and Dustin is smug.

Also Eddie learns completely by accident he can basically use music as a weapon DND bard style and he is way too happy about it and so pissed he didn't think of that sooner.

[zipmode]

I "like" my "job" but its so sucks that I can't have my phone on me while the show's going on and i can't even doodle and draw because im backstage and its soso dark... during our tech rehearsals i would slide my run sheet out onto the stage just enough so that nobody could see it but i had enough light to draw LOL. But now that we're open i don't wanna risk doing that... so basically i just pace around and zone out 😁👍

[novaimperia]

“he’s never made you cum? well, that just won’t do, bestie.”

that’s what satoru said when you told him your ex had been terrible in bed. 

being in his room, in just shorts and a shirt (his shirt), is normal for you two; you’ve been friends since you were in diapers, after all. you just got out of a bad breakup with a guy you didn’t really care all that much about and satoru was more than keen to hear the juicy gossip. he heard all about the gaslighting, the controlling behaviour, and the bad hygiene. but apparently, being a selfish lover was the worst thing the loser had ever done.

seemingly thinking that living an orgasmless life is the worst possible fate to face, he grabbed your ankle, pulled you under him, your back falling with a thump! on his bed, and grinned at you. “i have an idea. do you trust me?”

his bright idea?

making up for all orgasms you missed out. 

“s-satoru! no -ngh!- more. i can’t!”

flashing a mischievous smile through the wild cloud of pleasure glazing his eyes, he coos, “aw, tapping out already? didn’t realise i was friends with a quitter. come on, you got at least three more in you, don’t you? please, baby?”

you want to scream that you’ve already had five but all that comes out of you are lewd moans as you squirm on his sheets, sweat soaked, and shirt baring your tits to his groping hands. without waiting for a reply, he dives back in between your legs. 

“you taste so good – you been eating pineapples, or something?” wet lips wrap around your swollen clit and he makes a loud sluuuuuurrp! sound that echoes around the room. it’s too much, too fast. you can’t tell how long it’s been or even how much longer he plans on smothering himself between your thighs; you should have known satoru meant it literally when he said he's going to make up for lost time. “wanna taste yourself? you need to know how insane this pussy is.”

long, slender fingers smear your own wetness against your lips and he watches you suck on them. the bed begins to shake, banging against the wall ever so slightly. god, is he humping the bed?

“oh, yeah…such a good girl.” you earn a slap against your clit before he quite literally motorboats your poor cunt, blowing raspberries on the cream gushing out. “knew you’d taste good. i mean, you smell good. heh, did you know, i have a habit of sniffing your seat after you leave? it’s why i want you sitting on a pillow.”

delirious, you ask, “but i -ah fuck!- thought that was the j-japanese way?”

your back arches when his fingers curl up against your g-spot. “no, dum-my. that’s just the gojo way.”

“you’re a pervert!”

“i’m a pervert? baby,” he says, pouting against your puffy pussy, “you’re tightening up on my fingers. you're just as much of a pervert as i am. can’t we just agree that we’re both perverts? you like knowing that i’m filthy, don’t you? you like knowing that i jerk off to all the fit checks you send me. that i make copies of the nudes you have saved on your phone.”

“fuck!”

you cum all over his face for the sixth time that night.

through bleary eyes, you see his shiny, swollen lips curving up into a shit-eating grin. in his hand, he holds his pretty cock, which he teases to your quivering hole. then, right before he thrusts inside, he jerks his head to the phone on the bed. 

the fucker’s dialled your ex and you can’t even focus on the fact that he hasn’t hung up, because then your best friend is filling you up so deliciously, your legs tighten around his hips, locking at the ankles and keeping him lodged inside. 

he kisses your lips. the shutters go off. so does the flash.

“mmhm...satoru!”

“you really shouldn’t -ha- share your password with anyone, bestie. not even me.”

[oporotheca]

The Sweetest Struggle

synopsis: up early with your toddler, Satoru endures the sweet struggle of letting you sleep in a little longer - much to his daughter's chagrin.

tags: MDNI, pure domestic bliss, fluff, satoru gojo loooves his wife and daughter, no plot just fluff <3 notes: find a prequel of sorts to this fic here <3

6:00 a.m. in the Gojo household, and despite the fact that the sun was only just barely winking upon the horizon, two voices could be heard above the slowly awakening crickets and early birds.

Uncoordinated clapping - palms only just barely meeting and with scarcely any force behind them - accompanied whispered words, stifled yawns, and breathless chuckles.

"Oh, c'mon, princess... you're just handing the applause out now, I didn't even do anything."

Satoru complained softly down to the child in his arms - his daughter, just shy of a year old - making no effort to hold back the smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips.

In response, she babbled happily, complete nonsense spilling from her lips as she squirmed with delight, gazing up at her father with wide, shining eyes - as if he had hung the moon and stars just for her.

He adored that look, not just because it made him feel like the luckiest man in the world, but because he was certain, beyond even a shadow of a doubt, that she had learned it from the way he looked at you.

And speaking of you -

"Mamamamama..."

The little one droned on, her baby babbles fading into that familiar word she was so very fond of using. Satoru couldn't really blame her though; not with the way your whole face lit up whenever you heard it. If he were in possession of such a power, he was certain he'd abuse it too.

"Yeah, yeah..."

He chuckled, rolling his eyes as he pinched at his daughter's soft, sleep-warmed cheek, trying to draw her attention away from the brief glimpse she had gotten of you still fast asleep in bed as he'd quietly shut the door on his way past after scooping her from her crib.

"Let my wife sleep, you precious little leech."

His tone was pure adoration even if his words teased.

After all, he'd be lying if he said he didn't get where his little girl was coming from.

The sight of you in bed that morning, all wrapped up in the thin covers you'd only recently swapped the winter set out for, hair mussed and expression oh so peaceful, had made it almost impossible to leave once he'd heard the telltale sound of shuffling coming from the monitor he'd moved from your bedside table to his the night before.

His baby girl was an early riser, after all, always up at the crack of dawn, bright-eyed and ready to go... much to her parents' exhaustion...

But there was no way he’d let you be the one to get up with her again for the sixth time that week — not after all those mornings he’d missed, slipping out to work before the sun had even shown its face.

Not to mention how small you’d looked in that big bed of yours, the one meant for two...

Yeah. He really couldn’t blame his daughter.

In fact, he probably wanted to wake you up even more than she did - he just had more self control...

Marginally.

"C'mon sweetheart."

He murmured, adjusting the 11-month-old on his hip as he started to prepare breakfast for her, eggs already out and on the counter, rice cooker humming beside them, and pan warming up on the stove.

"Lets make you something to eat, hmm? We can go see Mama after."

And when he looked down to check his little girl's reaction, only to be greeted by the sight of her adorable smile - the one she had inherited from you - he felt his heart swell with adoration.

So, if he just so happened to wake you up a little bit earlier than he'd planned...

Well, who could blame him?

After all, the little girl on his hip was far too persuasive to resist.

[voyter]

STAGED FOR THE SEASON ⋆ ( 정국 / JJK ) !

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.

⟡₊ ⊹ CHRISTMAS SPECIAL !

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.

[secretmellowblog]

People who try to analyze what happened on Tumblr on November 5th, 2020, often really overstate how much it was actually “about” Supernatural. As someone who has never been in the supernatural fandom ever but dID join in on the hysterical destielposting—it was really more about the stress of the pandemic and the 2020 presidential election.

The two biggest Youtubers I’ve seen try to dissect “what happened that November 5th” in video essays both weren’t American—- and I think that explains why they both tried to explain the hysteria primarily via analyzing the Supernatural fandom/the original show, rather than through the lens of the election. And while those videos are cool, valid, informational, and make lots of really well-considered interesting points— I can tell you that me and almost all my mutuals had literally no knowledge or interest in the fact that “oh supernatural had made nods at the ship in the past but the creators were adamant that I wouldn’t be canon” or etc etc etc etc. the first time I learned about any of that context was way later, watching videos where people claimed that fandom history context (that I did not know anything about) was the actual reason for the hysteria.

But the reality is that people latched on to the Destiel stuff because it was a piece of big useless inane zero-stakes fandom news in a time when we were desperately waiting for serious high stakes election news. We were latching onto a “positive “ piece of inane stupid fandom news in a time of great stress, with all the desperation of a drowning man who latches onto whatever piece of wood will keep him afloat.

The core of the hysteria was that Americans (who make up a huge chunk of tumblr’s userbase) were currently glued to their laptops watching the live presidential election vote counts come in. These vote counts were taking an extended amount of time due to the pandemic causing high numbers of mail-in ballots, resulting in a constant state of Election Day Stress for multiple days straight.

This was also during the height of the Pandemic. People had predicted Trump’s presidency would be bad; no one had predicted it would be this apocalyptically bad. No one had predicted pandemics and lockdowns and hospitals overflowing with bodybags. remember Trump spreading Covid lies and conspiracies?? There were so many Qanon conspiracies about democrats being Satanic child traffickers who had to be put to death, and coup threats were mounting from the right wing side. It seemed like this election was a choice between ‘centrist democrat’ and “apocalyptic right wing conspiracy theory authoritarianism,” in the midst of pandemic conditions that people feared would never ever improve— and it seemed like a close election.

Another major point was that Trump voters were more likely to be antimaskers/Covid deniers, while Biden voters were more likely to take the pandemic seriously— so Biden voters were more likely to send in mail-in ballots instead of risking the in-person voting crowds, which meant their ballots would take much longer to count. And so, in many state electoral vote counts, it would initially seem like Trump was very far in the lead— only for Biden to slooooowly build up an agonizingly small lead as the mail in ballots came in, and then defeat Trump at the very end.

So you’re just watching these news sites giving live election updates, refreshing the page every 2 minutes to see if you’re going to live under a spineless centrist democrat or a literal Qanon Dictatorship. And then you go on tumblr to distract yourself, and there’s more election posting, and more agonizing over the votes, and more stress and despair—-

And then it’s been days and we’re right at the crucial tipping point where it’s anyone’s game and the next few hours will determine whether Trump will win, so you need to keep your eye on the vote count, because the next hours will determine the future of the pandemic and your country and your plans for your entire life—

And then stupid Destiel becomes canon! And it becomes canon in the silliest way possible!

If Destiel had become canon at any other time, it would have been a big goofy tumblr celebration? But we wouldn’t have gotten the insane explosion of hysterical interaction.

The entire core of it was the contrast between the inane meaningless stupidity of fandom news vs the actual stressful election news you wanted to hear! It really is best conveyed in that meme where Castiel says “I love you” and Dean indifferently responds with a piece of important election news.

It’s about the contrast between the low-stakes inanity of fandom and the massive life-destroying stakes of a terrifying election. There really was no reason it had be Supernatural specifically, except that Supernatural was a thing everyone knew basic things about from dashboard osmosis— it could’ve been any other equally huge silly fandom ship news about a ship everyone *knew of* but might not necessarily be invested in (ex. Stucky becoming canon, Johnlock becoming canon, Kirk/Spock becoming more canon somehow, etc etc etc.)

I think it’s true that people who weren’t paying agonizingly close attention to the American election news got swept up in it, and that non American Supernatural fans also were extremely excited for purely fandom reasons — but the entire reason it blew up to an unprecedented degree was because of that core of stressed out terrified Americans glued to their computers watching election results and suddenly receiving stupid fandom news instead, and deciding to just hysterically parodically hyper-celebrate this absurd useless zero-stakes news.

I think it was also all elevated by the fact that, as I said before, this happened at the crucial “tipping point” of the election where the next few hours would determine the winner. The fact that Biden began to slowly develop a lead in the hours after made it feel, hysterically, as if the hours after Destiel became canon was somehow the turning point where he began to win; so celebrating Destiel felt like celebrating that slow turn towards victory.

The tl,dr is that it’s so important to Remember the Fifth of November …..in preparation the inevitable hysteria that will happen in the presidential election on November 5th of next year. XD. Personally I’m rooting for Johnlock or Frodo/Sam to somehow become canon in the eleventh hour right before the democrats win

[lavandulawrites]

Yandere Genshin Men Eating Out Their Darling

Characters: Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Capitano, Childe, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Dottore, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Kinich, Lyney, Neuvillette, Ororon, Pantalone, Pierro, Sethos, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer/ Scaramouche, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli (all separate)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

I decided to do ca. 100-200 words each character to keep it nice and simple:) (some are over 200 tho). This took me longer than expected haha. My requests are open, but read my rules before requesting <3 The translation is at the bottom!

Masterlist

Warnings: NSFW 18+, cunilingus, all sexual acts are consensual, female reader, obsession, possessiveness, some of the yandere tendencies are more subtle than others, future imprisonment, face sitting, jealousy, fingering, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, forced marriage, reader is indifferent to some of the yandere behaviour in some of the parts, translation at the end, power imbalance, THE BLOOD IN CHILDE’S PART IS NOT PERIOD BLOOD, BUT BLOOD FROM SOMEONE HE HAD TO “SETTLE THINGS WITH”

Word count: 4779

Albedo

The unforgiving wind of the icy mountain howled against the treetops. The fireplace was lit given you much needed warmth. It had been 2 months since you had moved up into the cozy cabin high up in the mountain with the famed researcher.

His hand scissored skilfully into your cunt before his tongue joined them. The cold left you quickly as his tongue dove in deeper into your fluttering cunt.

You were glad you had taken upon the offer of the blond haired man and followed him up to Dragonspine. Here you had been happier than ever before and you believed him when he said that others would just do you harm.

Alhaitham

The scribe was a calculated and well composed man. So who would have thought he would lose his composure so easily when it came to you? Your presence was enough to make his seemingly cold manners crack and turn into poorly hidden admiration. Alhaitham did anything he could to keep you as shielded from the outside world as possible.

His muscular arms kept your legs open as he devoured you with uncharacteristic vigour. He sneered like a starved animal as he left mark after mark on your thighs. A guttural sneered left his lips as he dove his face further into the warmth of your cunt. You cooed at him lovingly as shivers of pleasure ran through your body.

Ayato

Ayato had always had his way with words. He had always had the upper hand no matter the circumstances. He was a beautiful man and he reminded you of a siren. His lilac eyes enchanted you to no extent. His touches intoxicating, leaving you wanting more. He was a dangerous man, that much you knew, but it didn’t stop you for seeking him out time after time. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but he loved you, oh so much and he kept you safe.

His bed was soft as and comforting. The doors open and welcoming in the breeze from the sea. The moon was high and clouds covered some of its white body.

The pale blue haired man was busy with burying his face between your legs were he ate you out with precision. His eyes never leaving yours as he showed you what it meant being the wife of the head of the Yashiro Commission. You found yourself melting in his touches and any thought about your parents disappeared without a trace. The smug smirk of the ethereal man was out of your understanding as you lost yourself to pleasure.

Baizhu

The Bubu Pharmacy was empty save from the two of you. The lights were dimmed and the window closed to keep the cold autumn night air out. Candles were lit to give you some much needed light. Baizhu’s trusted companion, the snake that often accompanied him, was in another room far away.

Orange reptile like eyes gazed down on you gently as he moved slowly down your body and to where you wanted him the most. His light touches teasing and making you hunger for more.

He parted your thighs skilfully as he kissed up your slit before he entered your hole with his tongue. The very same tongue which had driven your family and loved ones away with elegantly spun lies and well hidden treats.

Now the only thing you needed was him and his gentle, loving touches.

Capitano

The 1st Harbinger was a big and righteous man. He was stronger than any human that walked the earth and he never broke his word. He had first intimidated you with his size (and he still did at times), but you learned that underneath his helmet was a charming man. His charm was difficult to pinpoint as it was different from most, but it had greatly intrigued you.

His large hands held your legs firmly as they rested in his shoulders. He was kneeling at the foot of the bed with his head buried in your soaking cunt. His helmet was carefully placed on the dresser. Capitano’s long black hair fell against his shoulders as he lapped up your juices. His dark midnight blue eyes stared up at you, making you shiver under their intensity.

“You are so beautiful [Name]” his voice a groan.

You let yourself get lost in the pleasure and you couldn’t care less about the havoc he had caused when a rowdy man had accidentally bumped into you.

Childe

Blood were still coating the ginger strands of the warrior who had you pressed down on his face. The first thing he had demanded when he got home from yet another business trip, was for you to sit on his face. Who were you to deny your husband?

His grip on you were as intense as the rest of the man. His blue eyes were shut in bliss as he ate you out like it was his last meal. And if he had the choice he would die happily between your thighs as he told you at every given moment.

You didn’t last long with that damned tongue of his and before you knew it, you were clutching the headboard for much needed support. Instead of letting you get off, he simply glanced up at you with big eyes full of love and utter devotion.

As he continued to stare, it became obvious of who the blood in his hair belonged to.

Cyno

The white haired Mahamatra had his gazed locked onto your weeping cunt. His calloused hands ran down your sides till they got hold of your hips. His tongue plunged into you like a starved man and drove moan after moan out of you. He had finally managed to convince you to stay at home in his fine house as he would take care off you. Given his mannerism you could tell he was greatly pleased with himself.

His skill full tongue drove you quickly to your climax and you intertwined your hand in his white locks as he licked up your sweet release.

His red eyes looked up at you lovingly as he continued his previous pace. You were in for a long night.

Dainsleif

Blond hair tickled the sensitive skin of the inside of your thighs. The Khaenri'an’s hands were digging into the flesh of your skin as he lapped at your sweet juices. Dain had told you time after time that you were the only person that relived him of the pain that was caused of the curse that was cast upon him. As following he never let you leave him. You had long since learned that the soothing effect you had on his curse was only a tiny tiny fraction as to why he never let you leave his sight.

His groans and your soft moans were echoing through the empty halls of the ruin. The blond man drove his tongue deeper and you felt you were close. You chest heaved up and down in a rapid motion as you tried to calm down form your release.

Cerulean eyes stared up at you with devotion one normally only found in a worshipper of a god. How ironic. Words feel from his mouth which you had no means to understand, yet you felt the meaning through his unrelenting gaze. “Jeg elsker deg, jeg elsker deg, jeg elsker deg, min kjære [Name].”

Diluc

The soft glow of the fireplace warm against your naked skin. The light from the fire lighting up the muscular chest of the redhead that leaned over you. His lips locked against yours in a passionate kiss. Your tongues danced in a seductive tango which made you ache with need between your legs. Diluc hummed as he noticed your thighs pressing together.

With his head between your thighs he worked you closer and closer towards or orgasm. His movements passionate and filled with love. You ran your hair through his red locks. You were truly happy in the arms of the man who loved you more than life itself. You ignored the words of others. So what is he was overprotective and so what is he didn’t want strangers talking to you? He was only trying to protect you.

Dottore

The Doctor was a talented man when it came to the art of intimacy. It was a rather shocking discovery at first, but you was happy he had showed you his ways in the bedroom.

The threat of being imprisoned forever within the walls is his lavish manor hang low over your head like a guillotine. Despite that you couldn’t care less. Not when he was nestled between your legs and lapped at your cunt with such gentleness and love you almost wept. To awaken such emotions within the second Harbinger was a defeat in itself, one which you treasured greatly.

His groans synchronised with your moans in a symphony of love and lust. It made you curious for the future and uneasy for what he had done to your loved ones.

Gorou

The life of a general was busy and dangerous. His days existed of leading battles and giving out orders. So it was only natural he was extremely touch starved when he returned from war and to you.

When you greeted him in the hallway of their cozy home he almost leaped into your arms. You hugged him tightly, glad he wasn’t hurt. He buried his face in the crotch of your neck. “Oh how I have missed you” his voice a whisper.

Pale hands gripped your thighs in a tight grip. Blunt nails digging into your skin. Your hands held onto the headboard with enough strength so you wouldn’t collapse on the man underneath you. His tongue drilled fast and deep into your drenched cunt. He was eating you out like a wild dog. Your every nerves was haywire.

Your breath hitched as Gorou drove you faster and faster to your climax. The brown haired man beneath you muttered chants of “I love you” against your clit over and over again. He had promised you when you pulled you onto the bed that he would never ever leave you again, and judging by his intense look you believed him.

Heizou

Slim fingers ran down your thighs leaving goosebumps in their wake. Dark red hair brushed against your nose. Light green eyes gazed into your eyes with lust and love. Your lips locked in a soft kiss. He tasted sweet like cherries. Your lips pulled apart and you could feel him smirking.

“You have no idea how much I love you, need you” his sensual voice whispered against your lips. He gave you one last deep kiss before he lowered his head down and kissed trails down to where you needed him the most.

You kissed your inner thigh till he reached your sweet cunt. He kissed it once, twice, before he gave it a good lick. You moaned at his moment.

He snickered teasingly as he pushed his tongue inside your spongy walls. He moaned loudly at your taste.

“Archons, you tasted heavenly” he sighed in between licks. His thumb found your clit which he stroked and rubbed skilfully.

You could feel the knot in your lower abdomen getting closer and closer to snapping. Before you knew it you came all over the beautiful face of the man between your thighs.

In your blissful trance you were completely unaware of the documents on his nightstand that read the reports of your future disappearance.

Itto

The horns of the oni was hard and cool underneath your hold. As you rubbed the base the large oni groaned in pleasure. He had you on his face in a tight hold as he ravaged your cunt with such hunger only an oni could posses. As his tongue swirled over your clit in a slow harsh manner, your dread upon seeing him tear the men who had backed you in an alley, in half slowly disappeared.

Your chest heaved as you tightened your hold on his horn which egged him on further. His movements speed up and it didn’t take long before you saw stars. You slumped forwards, but his strong large hands kept you upright.

“I love you so, so much” he murmured against your thigh.

Kaeya

The blue haired captain had without no doubt murdered the annoying tavern patrons in cold blood. Despite that, you felt safe in his arms as he pleasured your cunt with his slivered tongue. His lone eye glanced up at you with a hooded lid which sent a warm jolt down in your cunt.

He was as skilled with his tongue when it came to pleasuring you as he was at whispering you lies that fuelled your dependence on him.

He held you in a tight embrace as you came down form your high. His honeyed voice whisper sweet nothings into your ears and you felt safe in his arms.

Kaveh

Blond locks tickled your thighs as the architect lapped at your cunt. He had been extremely stressed and panicked when he came home to your shared home. He had admitted that he was afraid of someone better coming to whisk you away. You were the only thing that kept him sane. You had stroked his hair reassuringly and told him you would never leave him. Before you both knew it you had ended up in to sofa, with him nestled between your thighs.

You pulled at his soft locks which earned you a grown which reverberated against your cunt. You threw your head back against the cushion. Kaveh had always put your pleasure before his and he had always had a talented for making you feel better than anyone else could.

With a swirl of your clit and thorough the lapping of his wet muscle you came so heard you saw stars. You thought that he must be a gift sent by the gods beyond the sky as he licked up your excessive juices with loud moans.

He leaned over you as he started lovingly into your eyes. “You are never allowed to leave me, ever” he kissed you passionately. His grip on your shoulders was hard as if he was afraid you would run away.

Kazuha

The white haired samurai had always intrigued you. He was a wise man with a connection to nature you could only hope to fully understand. He was so so kind and gentle towards you, yet you had just witnessed him slashing down a group of drunken sailors who had gotten a little too friendly with you. His snowy haired had been stained red as he pulled you into a tight embrace, relived you were okay. You were shaken up by the sight you had just seen before you and he had kissed your face as he had whispered reassuring words. Every word he utters from his pale lips felt like a warm blanket. They always seemed to calm you.

You had helped him wash his hair and as his hair grew more and more white, his desire for you became more and more visible. You had pulled him into a kiss with led to you being laid out on the soft sheepskin rug in the middle of the bathroom.

His tongue wasn’t only good at uttering poetic words, but it was also extremely skilled in the art of pleasure. He ate you out gentle and sensual with his hands gripping your thighs. Every time the started close do to you being so lost in please, he pushed them open firmly. His red eyes held your gaze through the many orgasms he drew out of you. You had now completely forgotten all about the sounds of Kazuha’s katana slashing through the throats of the sailors.

Kinich

The ancient name bearer was a honest man. He believed in getting straight to the point and he rarely kept secrets. Hence why he told you quite early on after he had realised his feelings, what he felt for you. You had been foolish in believing it was just a normal crush and not an endless abyss of love and obsession which had scared his little dragon companion.

You had invited the hazel eyed young man into your home, without knowing that day would be your last day of freedom. After his visited, he would bring you home with him.

You laid spread out onto your bed with the dark haired man planted between your legs. His tongue hungrily ate you out and he swallowed as much slick he possible could. You whispered a soft “I love you” which made him completely lose his composure.

Lyney

White doves, flashy card tricks and well thought out magic performances became a part of your daily life after you accepted Lyney’s love. His feline eyes never left your form and his hand was always near you. He sneered passive aggressive threats at everyone who dared getting close to you. It had starting to get exhausting calming down your possessive lover. Luckily you had come up with a solution.

Burying his head into your cunt had surprisingly calming effects on the magician. He moaned at your sweet taste as his pale lilac eyes fell shut. His tongue was as talented as his fingers and brought you to orgasm after orgasm. You had started to wonder if he actually possessed magical powers after he brought you to your fourth orgasm that night.

Unbeknownst to you, was that the cunning magician had purposely lashed out more than normal at the travelling market you two had visited in order to be granted access between your legs. It was a grand feast for him and a pleasurable act for you, so it was a win win for both parties, wouldn’t you agree?

Neuvillette

The dragon had laid you down on the plush bed. Your skin flat against the silk sheets. His hold on you were gentle, but possessive. Despite his perfectly crafted façade he was only a dragon, and dragons did not ever want to share their treasures. Seeing you surrounded by so many who wanted to congratulate you on your marriage shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. He had clenched his jaw and dragged you upstairs to his private quarters.

His tongue was skilled and held an authority which made you blush. His pale fingers joined his tongue and brought you to a pleasure you knew you would never find with another man. You let yourself lose control of your body and gave your entire being to the awaiting dragon.

Ororon

The dark haired man was a desperate man. He clung to you as if you were his lifeline and for all you knew, maybe you were. His mismatched eyes held an obsession that ran deeper than the well that was outside his home.

He kissed your lower lips sloppily, but with such passion the poets of Mondstadt could never hope to achieve. He whimpered at the sweet taste of you and his kisses deepened. His lips parted from your sweet cunt and shifted to your inner thigh were he sunk his fangs into. You hissed as he sucked a purple hickey onto your sensitive.

“I should mark you up so no one gets any funny ideas about who you belong to” his sweet voice drowning out any other thoughts and filling them all with him.

Pantalone

Ringed fingers stroked the inside of your thighs as the dark haired Harbinger held your thighs. His pretty lips curled up into a smile that made your cheeks redden. He laughed at your embraced appearance. “Aren’t you the sweetest?” he purred as he kissed the inner of your thighs slowly, teasingly.

When his lips finally reached you were you wanted it the most you couldn’t help the small sounds that escaped your lips. The sounds only pushed him further on as he quickly and suddenly plunged his tongue deep inside. He moved his tongue skilfully as one of his hands found your clit which he rubbed gently.

The ring on your finger which symbolised the eternal binding you had to him felt like a part of you as you came undone on the silver tongue of the banker. It was as if your distaste of the marriage had never happened at all.

Pierro

The director of the Harbingers was a cold and collected man, but when it came to you he was different. The coldness thawed and was replaced with a warmth that lulled your senses. His large hands moved in precision that came with the many years he had lived. The marriage he had forced upon you didn’t seem as bad as you laid in the bed of his elegantly decorated bedroom with relics he had collected throughout the years.

His right hand held onto your thigh as the other held onto your and. Your hands intertwined. On of your legs were popped up on his shoulder as his tongue worked inside your tight hole. He was rather quiet save for a few grunt here and there, but it was obvious he enjoyed himself greatly.

As you came you tightened your hold on his hand and he kissed your thigh gently in a sign of his undying love.

Sethos

The tent was cramped, but with a miracle he had made it cozy. Blankets were covering the ground followed by pillows. Sethos was pressed between your thighs as he worshipped your cunt like it was an ancient goddess. His wild locks had fallen down his shoulders and framed his beautiful face. His gemstone like eyes found yours as he continued to please you with his tongue.

You could tell he was relieved to find you unharmed after the encounter with the bandits. You hadn’t dared to ask what he did to them afterwards, but you decided it was best to ignore it. You knew he would never hurt you, but you couldn’t help but feel bad for the bandits that had the misfortune to encounter the clever young man.

Thoma

The blond housekeeper had always been so very gentle and careful when it came to you. It made you wonder if he was scared you would break if he applied a little more pressure. Tonight however was different.

His hands dug into your skin as his tongue worked you up with fast and harsh movements. You couldn’t hold back the soft moans that fell from your lips. You closed your eyes as he ate you out.

His jealousy was evident in his tight hold. He had been seething through his usually calm and friendly expression. He couldn’t stand seeing other men lay their slimy hands on someone who belonged to him. Who knew what they would do to you?

Tighnari

Soft ears flicked as a deep groan sounded from deep within the chest of the forests watcher. His was eating you with carnal desire that had first surprised you. His arms snaked around your waist in a protective manner.

Tighnari had always been extremely overprotective for as long as you had known him. You had after a time, welcomed that side of him after you realised he only meant you well. His company was all you needed and you had started to forget how it was being with your friends.

A groan left his lips as he lapped up your release with a hunger fever. You let your fingers run along his ear which earned you a strangled moan. His hazel eyes gazed up into yours which such love. Why seek freedom when you had the sweetest lover?

Venti

The playful bard was happily lapping at your wet cunt. His fingers gently caressed your skin. His nose pushed against your clit as he angled his head in order to reach deeper into you.

Venti was a firm believer in freedom, and freedom he had given you. It had surprised you at first how a man with so deep feelings for you at the point you could envision him creeping into the cavity of your chest in order to be closer to you, letting you roam freely within the city. He had let you do as you wished, except talking to other men alone. Whenever a male counterpart approached you, his green eyes filled with rage was he stepped in and dragged you away.

Wanderer/ Scaramouche

Cold breath fanned over your lower half as he bent his face down. His beautiful face ethereal in the moonlight as his eyes found yours. Love and desperation swirled in the violets.

He swirled his tongue around your clit which made you gasp. His cold hand intertwined with yours in a gentle, but firm hold. He had always had the need to know where you were at all times and when you weren’t within his reach he became irritable and lashed out at anyone who dared to talk to him. You had long suspected that there was more to him than what he had told you. One thing was sure, his love for you ran deeper than the roots of the giants trees in the rainforest.

He ate you out with such emotion you were taken aback. The usual snarky man was now glossy in the eyes as his eyes raked across your face.

The moonlight cast long shadows over the bedroom as you came. At that very moment you didn’t care about how he didn’t want you to spend time with your friends. For was it really that bad to only be with him? Was it really that bad to be with the man you love?

Wriothesley

Strong hands held your hips in place as his face burrowed into your crotch. A few groans escaped his lips as his tongue works up your slit. His nose against your clit. Your eyes started up into the ceiling as you moaned. The Duke had had a bad day and he had wanted nothing more than to burrow his head between your thighs and eat you out for hours.

It had become an everyday occurrence with him nestled nicely between your thighs. You had long since stopped complaining about not being able to see the sun that hung high above the blue Fontainian waters.

“You are such a good girl, [Name]. Let me take care of you” his chin was glimmering with slick. His tongue swept over his chin in a hum. “You’re gonna be safe here. I’m glad you finally realise such” he kissed your inner thigh before he dove back in. What he said was true. You were going to be happy with him down in the Fortress.

Xiao

Golden predatory eyes held your gaze as the long fingers of the adeptus plugged into your cunt. The slick sounds filling the room accompanied by your uneven breathing. His mouth locked around your clit as he gave it a hard suck which sent shivers down your spine. Xiao was a man of few words, but that didn’t bother you. He had his own ways of showing you his love.

His ravenous tongue accompanied his fingers as he began his feast. The bedroom at his private quarters at the inn was dimly lit. A lone candle was burning on the nightstand. Your gaze wandered to the open window which overlooked the marsh and the land that stretched beyond. You longed for your freedom, but you didn’t want to part from the adeptus you loved so dearly. Maybe one day you two would traverse the world beyond the surrounding land of the inn.

Zhongli

Strong warm hands pinned you down as soft lips kissed down to your cunt. His hauntingly beautiful eyes met yours as he gently bit down onto your skin. His sharp teeth almost breaking the skin, but he parted before it started to hurt. He had time after time showed you he knew both you and your body better than everyone else.

The contract that laid neatly on the dark wooden nightstand was temporarily forgotten as he worked your through your nth orgasm for the night. His long silky brown hair fell over his shoulders as he tipped your head up into a deep kiss. His tongue invited yours to a dance of pleasure and love. He parted with your lips after a moment that felt like an eternity.

“I will make you happy for eternity. Just sign the contract and I will take care of everything else” his deep voice reverberated through his broad chest.

You nodded, oblivious to what would happen to you when you signed your name onto the golden paper. Your faith was in his hands, but he promised he would take care of you. You were his future wife after all.

Translation

Norwegian → English

“Jeg elsker deg” = “I love you”

“Min kjære” = “My dear”