#what is going on with the fucking eyes tho?

[elysianightsss]

AAAHHHHH! HI! So sorry to bother you, but I read the neurodivergent reader x 141 and AHHHHH I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING, DROOLING, CHEWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE they wont let me out

i have a little idea… how would poly 141 react when they find out your job isnt this cute barista or something along those lines, but just a regular stocking associate or a cashier for some huge corporation. like, they know you work. and every time you leave, they see you die a little on the inside from having to go to *insert shitty job*. They just didnt know that you were working there and now they are trying whatever they can to convince you to quote your job and stay home… i know i would rather stay home and take care of them than going to my job…

Oh anon I love your brain! As someone who used to be a cashier before I got my fucking wonderful, literally no joke amazing office job, I fuck with this. I’m writing them as roommates tho don’t know why just deal with it😘

It starts off with a debate over what time you get up in the mornings given how tired you seemed today. But then they realise, they don’t even know what you do for work. Johnny predicts that you’re one of those cute baristas in sweet little aprons with how good the flavoured coffees you make him in the morning when he’s back from his run, are.

Kyle can’t seem to fathom you’re not the office sweetheart he seems to picture you as. Though you’d been living with them for almost over a year now, the guys were gone before you left for work and back long after you arrived home. Still he had it in his head the whole time that you were putting on tight pencil skirts and heels in the morning before going off to work. Something he argues tooth and nail with Johnny about.

John scoffs hearing the guys argue, usually keeping out of it, but this time he can’t help himself when he interjects with, “Yer both chattin shit. She’s obviously a baker with those mouth watering pastries she makes us.” Now that opens up the argument further.

Simon is the only one who doesn’t speculate, instead he walks right up to you on a Sunday night as the guys are all readying themselves for bed and you’re making your lunch for tomorrow. “Luv.” He calls, you glance at him, eyes honing in on the way his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. Dangerous, dangerous man.

Looking back to the fruit you were slicing, you hum in acknowledgment, “Wot’s ya job?”

You bite back the grin that fights to split your face in two, turning to him you see he visibly softens at your little smile, “I’m a cashier.” You answer, ears tinging red a little. In all honesty you were embarrassed that you worked for one of those big corporations. The dreams you had once but were never able to reach are like a damp on your heart. Like a festering mould that only grows in the worst conditions.

Sometimes you enjoy the people, there are some nice ones that overcome the bad interactions. But everyday you pull on the trousers and trainers, and that itchy uniform top, you wish that a snowstorm would lock you inside the house. You pray to receive a call telling you not to come in due to a fire that started in the bakery. Your heart aches to be told you’re allowed to go home early even if you won’t be paid as much at the end of the month.

Simon hadn’t said much after you told him, his eyes darkened a little when he asked if you enjoyed it and you had answered swiftly and without hesitation; no.

Then suddenly, the guys are leaving for work a little later in the morning. The same time as you. John offering you a lift to work, Johnny making you coffee instead of the other way around, Kyle giving you one of his soft jackets so at least your arms will be comfortable even if your torso is covered in that itchy material.

Simon is the one who places his hand on your forehead and tuts beneath his black surgical mask. You scoff when Simon says he doesn’t think you should go in today, “I feel fine.” You counter with a frown, pushing his big paw away and shoving your feet into the uncomfortable trainers.

John stares down at them like they’ve offended him personally, “You own comfier shoes lass.” Johnny comments and Kyle nods in agreement.

“I have to wear them.” You say quietly wondering why they suddenly have such an interest in your work attire. Have to. Well, that just wasn’t acceptable. The guys didn’t think you should have to do anything.

The weekends were a little weird too. You would usually cook them meals and sweet pastries or cakes with how hard they worked, they deserved nothing less. But Johnny is ushering you away from the kitchen when you walk past the dining table and the marble counter island to make him a coffee.

John says no thank you in the most strained way you’ve ever heard it when you offer to make him a sweet treat. He deflates even further into the sofa when you look offended at his decline. Kyle pulls you close to him on the other side of the couch, putting an arm around you, he continues reading his book but it’s out loud this time.

You sigh snuggling close to him, head on his shoulder when Simon brings over one of the many plushies you’d left on the floor of the lounge, again, and one of the many soft blankets you’d unnecessarily bought for the house. Maybe you could get used to this, you thought as your eyes started to blink slower. It had been a really long week, with lots of assholes. A week of sitting in that uncomfortable chair had done a number on your back too.

You’re just lucky that you’d said from the very beginning that you won’t work weekends, at least you could have those to yourself. The guys became even more attentive, not that they weren’t before, but it increased tenfold. And you wondered why.

Why Kyle is packing you a lunch box everyday now. Why Johnny is cuddling up to you at night just so you sleep warmer, better. Why John is willing to race away from very important paperwork to sit outside the big supermarket you worked at just so you didn’t have to take the bus home. Why Simon keeps buying you lush smelling soaps, bath salts and those sparkly bathbombs he knows you love, you have so many now you don’t know what to do with them. Even when you ask him to stop, he shakes his head and grunts out, “Baths are good for sore muscles.” And that’s all you get.

You just want to know why, what brought all of this on. And most of all why it all suddenly stops.

Almost like a calculated mission, like a big discussion had happened before hand. All of it stopped. They had left long before you got up for work, no lunch ready to go, no soft jacket waiting by the door, no cuddle reading sessions on the weekend, no more new bath stuff, no more lifts and an expectant look in John’s eyes when it gets to dinner time.

They’d done a total three sixty. Like they wanted to show you how good it could be with their help, how much easier life could be, going to work could be, only just to take it all away.

That’s exactly what their plan had been, Simon’s idea mostly with little suggestions made by the rest of them. They all executed it thoroughly, now all that’s left for them is to compete the final step.

“Doll I think you should quit your job.” John goes first, you frown excessively. What the hell is he talking about, you think.

“Have you gone mad?” You huff. John knows you’re annoyed with them, hell they all know you’re angry by their actions. But it’s a necessary evil.

“Not yet I don’t think,” John jokes and feels a little lighter when the corner of your lip quirks up slightly, “I am serious.” He says simply, his blue eyes burning into you before he walks away. You think it so odd, strange that he says that out of the blue.

And then Kyle says it too. Coming into your room with the same baby Yoda squishmallow Simon had placed in your lap two weeks ago, and the same blanket. He gestures towards your bed, it’s subtle but you nod. Failing to hide his grin, Kyle gets snuggled up under the blanket with you, your arms wrapped around the plushie.

He’s halfway through the book, hand brushing through your hair scratching at your scalp deliciously when he broaches the subject, “Bun?” You scrunch up your nose, blinking your eyes open to look at him accusingly. The sight makes him chuckle softly, you’re screaming with your eyes, how dare you make me open my eyes and be fully conscious.

He leans forward before he can stop himself and rubs his nose against yours sweetly, something he tells himself later was just to butter you up before talking. It wasn’t.

“I don’t think you should go to work anymore.” He says simply, with ease, his voice calm.

“What?” You blink rapidly waking yourself up fully to actually take in what he just said.

“Just something to think about bunny.” He shrugs and goes back to reading with that damn lulling voice. You don’t stop him, don’t interrupt but your mind is swirling the same way it had the day before when John had said something similar.

Johnny is not so tactful, shovelling his breakfast in his mouth. Half masticated bacon and scrambled eggs rolling around in his wide open trap, when he spits out the words. “Quit yer job lass, no one wants to be stackin shelves and scannin someone else’s shit all day.” He scoffs washing his food down with the caramel flavoured coffee you made him five minutes ago. He’s quick to put the plate in the sink and place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His head bend slightly, eyes level with you, “Think about it pet.” He pats your cheek lightly and earns a much more harsh smack to the back of his head by Kyle on the way out of the house.

And finally Simon…well Simon…um Simon just did what he thought was best, what he thought was necessary, what he thought would get you to comply the quickest…

You pant harshly, fingers gripping onto the light bronde hair painfully hard, yanking with each stripe Simon licked up your cunt. You barely noticed John walking passed your open bedroom door with a smirk, Simon had his face buried so deep in your pussy it was hard to think, hard to conjure up your own name let alone open your eyes and catch Kyle and Johnny pushing your door open a little wider and watching for a moment before Kyle drags Johnny away.

Simon’s broken too many times to fix, crooked nose brushed against your clit wonderfully, tongue fucking into your quivering hole making you buck your hips desperate for the release he’d been denying you for around twenty minutes now.

“Say it.” Simon cooed, encouraging you gently. Shaking your head, teeth biting down on your lip, holding on as tightly to your words as you held onto Simon.

Simon grips your jaw in his big paw, a sharp look comes across his features as though he’s about to scold you when you meet his gaze, thumb rubbing your clit in tight, rough circles to keep the stimulation enough, to keep you there on the edge so he has you right where he wants you.

“Say it and you can cum.” He promises, your eyes widen, stinging harshly with their own promise of tears should you keep this up.

“b-but-“

“No buts. We’ll take of everything sweetheart, oll ya afta to do is write the resignation letter, then stay here as our pretty little housewife.” He kissed your clit before moving his thumb back in its place, circling slower this time. You gasp, a broken sob wrenching itself from your chest as your orgasm starts to slip away with the lack of stimulation.

“Please! Please Si! I-“

“Oll ya afta do is say it. Quit, find yourself a cute hobby, cook and clean for us a little. Oll ya afta do is say yes and I’ll let ya cum luv.” He grins evilly when you whine, blowing on your cunt before licking a hard long stripe from your puckered asshole to your swollen, throbbing clit.

“yes! please yes I’ll quit just pl-“

Simon doesn’t let you finish your plea, devouring your pussy like a man starved. He licks, sucks, and flicks your clit, slipping his thick fingers inside your clenching, empty hole thrusting them in and out doing his best to match the pace he set with his tongue on your clit.

You cum hard, untamed. Back arching uncomfortably, limbs shaking rigorously and Simon slurps up everything you give him. You lay there trying to catch your breath when Simon crawls up your body to hover over you. His eyes meet yours when he grins, “Good girl. Now why don’t we get started on that resignation letter hmm.” It wasn’t a question.

Safe to say you happily quit your job.

[totalswag]

raw next question? pt 2 ⎯ RAFE CAMERON!

authors note the amount of support i got on my last fic is unbelievable, thank you so much. i tried my best for part two so i hope you guys like it. so, here you go 👀. raw next question

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary after leaving a comment under rafe's post, he responds back showing interest and reaches out.

warning(s) flirting, kissing at the end, cuteness, and meeting rafe for the first time.

rafecameron: hey! bold move, I think we should talk.

The only thing running through your mind is⎯what the actual fuck. To be fair, you were expecting a response or comment, not even a dm. You don't know what to say.

"Okay, we need to think of something to say because," you hesitate for a few minute, "yeah, I don't have anything to say" you trail off before stretching the back of your head.

Zoie lets out a breath: "I say we wait to respond then once we come up with a response, send it to him."

Five minutes later, you open your phone, click on the text, and begin typing a reply. "This is what I'm going to respond with," you say, pointing to your phone to the girls. 

yourusername: hey haha, thought I’d hop on the trend. didn’t expect you to reply tho.

Two minutes later, he responds.

rafecameron: oh, so I’m just part of a trend? damn, i thought i was special... 😔

yourusername: haha so funny, rafe

yourusername: i admit though you're attractive

rafecameron: ahh the truth comes out huh

rafecameron: since we're speaking the truth, you're gorgeous

Rafe and you started conversation among other topics. One of the main things you two found out is that you live an hour away from each other. By the end of the week, you exchanged phone numbers.

After Rafe responded to your comment, you two started leaving sly/flirty comments on each other's posts that spiked conversations between your supporters.

They're messing with us right?

They keep playing eye tag... HOLLA AT YO BOY!!

"Would you like to meet up sometime?" Rafe asked casually over FaceTime while searching the kitchen cupboard for something, his phone resting against a glass cup. 

It's been a month since Rafe and you have been texting and calling. Constantly texting⎯quick responses. It became a routine for the both of you. Learned a lot about each other in a span of a month.

Your back was against the headboard as you sat on your bed. He wants to meet you in person, and your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "Yeah, I would like that," was all you could offer.

Peeping over his shoulder, Rafe chuckles quietly and smiles. "I'm thinking this weekend if you aren't busy?" "I would drive to you," he says, suggesting.

You raise your upper body off the headboard and reply, "I'll send you my address the day before, I'm not doing anything this weekend."

"Perfect!" He smiles.

Today was the day⎯Rafe and you are meeting for the first time. Nervous and excited about all this. You don't want to make a fool of yourself. Rafe was forty minutes away, in the meantime, you were on the phone with Zoie and Evenly.

Rafe offered to drive to visit you, and you couldn't help but be anxious. He was an hour away, yet his attempt to see you meant more than you could express.

"Bitches I'm shitting bricks" you confess feeling anxious, running your hands down your thighs, walking around the kitchen.

"Y/N, it's normal to feel this way especially since you're meeting him for the first time. Take a few deep breaths and if you need anything from us, we're one call, and few doors down" Evelyn reassures you in a soothing tone.

"Agreed, you got this, it's normal to feel this way," Zoie expresses.

"Thank you, you two are such great friends, I love you so much" you say with honesty, your phone buzzes, you put your phone back.

rafe: five minutes away

you: perfect, see you soon!!

You gasps, quickly putting your phone back to your ear, "he's five minutes away um, I'll text you guys throughout the day."

Once Rafe got to the apartment complex, you walked down the stairs to where he parked⎯he was getting his bags from his trunk. You were amazed how tall he was too.

Before you can say anything, he turns around and says, "Hey, Y/N," with a smile that conveys how happy he is to see you.

Seeing him in person made you realize he's even more handsome. Rafe couldn't keep his eyes off you, he couldn't help but think how he's standing infront of someone as beautiful as you.

"Hey, Rafe, It's good to see you" you say, taking a big breath and gazing up at his towering body. You grin and lean into the hug. The height difference between you two is insane. He

"It's great to finally meet you; you're even more beautiful in person," he says to you, smiling. You chuckle softly at his compliment, "thank you handsome" and smile.

After arriving at your place, you show Rafe where everything is and where he will be staying—either your bed or the guest bedroom, which has been thoroughly cleaned and sanitized. 

Rafe was happy to see your apartment and commented on how well it matches your vibe. He took his time looking around the apartment. Since you were already ready for the day, you spent ten more minutes in the apartment before heading out.

You have no idea what the plan was today. Rafe intended for a lasting and enjoyable day. You persisted on showing him around, but he said he wanted to be the one to take you places, even if he didn't know where. 

"This is has been such a great day, thank you Rafe" you tell him with full honesty as you two get settled to play mini golf.

He looks up from the floor and responds with a kind, sincere smile, "I'm glad you're enjoying it." "I remember you mentioning you loved mini golf too."

He is able to recall the small details.

Your heart sank to your feet since no male has ever recalled the small information you shared with them. As you playfully nudge him, you exclaim, "I can't believe you remember that."

He chuckles, "I'm just good at remember."

Mini golf was a lot of fun, with plenty of laughs and competition between you two. In the beginning, he noticed your concentration and took out his phone to record you until you spotted him flipping him off.

Towards the end of the night, Rafe and you drove to an ice cream shop and ate it outside. You had little conversations and learnt more about each other today.

Before putting a scoop of his ice cream in his mouth, he says, "We should make a tiktok."

After contentedly leaning back in your chair, you decided to do it. In addition, many who support you have been wondering if you two will ever cross paths. They're going to be amazed.

she knows remix slowed.

Rafe began lip-syncing, his expression playful and undoubtedly attractive. When it got to looking like the Fourth of July, you're officially coming with me, he switched the phone to you. You were already staring at him, eyes full of admiration, unable to conceal the warm smile on your lips.

The camera returned to him, and he tried not to chuckle, tilting his phone downward as he giggled. The final second of the video showed your arms wrapped around his neck.

rafe cameron: 👀

tagged yourusername

Fans were blowing up the comment section.

⇾ fan23: DO YOU SEE THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT HIM!!

⇾ fan12: you know you have thirty minutes

⇾ fan1: i decided if i want y/n or rafe 😔

⇾ fan3: im sat for this

By the time you returned to your flat, the tension had grown to a point where it could no longer be ignored. Rafe took a step closer as you paused nervously by your door. His hand softly stroked your cheek, his gaze seeking yours, before he asked, "Is this okay?"

You barely had time to nod before his lips touched yours, gentle and languid, like if he was savoring the moment. The kiss was pleasant, but it also hinted at something deeper.

When you eventually pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours, chuckling. "Best decision I ever made was replying to that comment."

"Best decisions I ever made was commenting" you softly say, smiling.

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[rayraelleaizawa]

They're going hard on you

TW: none i think

gn!reader

Short stories of when OP men go hard on you out of worry

Characters: Shanks, Trafalgar Law

Shanks

You sat in the captains office and looked at Shanks who was unusally quiet. You had an anxious feeling in your guts. You knew you had fucked up, but you didnt think he would be that mad.

The red hair pirates docked at some uninhabited island, and you were assigned to not leave the ship since Shanks wasnt sure how dangerous the island would be. But when you saw a strange animal falling from a tree and into a river, trying desperately not to drown and reach the shore again but couldnt make it, you left the ship and jumped into the river and helped the animal out of there. The scared animal didnt realice you only wanted to help him, and trashed around in your grip and scratched and bit you.

When Shanks and a part of his crew came back from exploring the island, and he saw that you were standing on deck, soaked from head to toe and trying to clean up your bloody injuries, his usually carefree face fell. He wore an unreadable expression as he told you to come into his cabin when Hongo was done treating your wounds.

Now, half an hour later and bandaged up, you sat in Shanks office and looked at your lap. He still had that unreadable expression on his face and you werent sure in what kind of trouble you were right now. You had breaken the rules before, nothing too bad, but he never acted like that because of you. You thought that he'd understand why you left, everyone knew that you had a soft spot for animals.

You anxiously waited for him to start talking, but he didnt even look at you. After another silent ten minutes, he finally said something.

"What did Hongo say?"

"He said that it is nothing too bad, just some scratches. I need to go check up regulary tho in case of infection and if I feel weird I am supposed to go to him instantly. Hongo checks the books right now if the animal that bit me is poisenous or not."

You gladly would have left out the last part, but you knew you shouldnt do that right now. He would talk with Hongo and find out anyway.

There was another short silence before he spoke again.

"What did I tell you to do? No, what did I order you to do?"

"To stay on the ship" you quietly said.

"And what did you do?"

"I...left the ship."

"You disobeyed my orders. That's what you did. No matter what relationship we two have, I am your captain and you have to follow my orders like everyone else on this ship."

You were quiet for some time. You didnt mean to disappoint him, but you didnt think about his orders when you saw that helpless animal fighting for its life.

"I'm sorry. I only wanted to help the-"

"I dont care what you wanted to do. You had clear orders. Orders, which were meant to protect you. Protect you from exactly those animals that hurt you. We have no idea if they are venomous, or aggresive, or a religious species for any natives that live here."

You stayed silent. The uneasy feeling in your stomach growing by the second. Sadness and fear joined that feeling too. You thought he'd understand you, but in the end you just disrespected him infront of his crew with ignoring his orders.

"I'm sorry for messing up" was all you could get out in that moment, and you heard Shanks sigh. He stood up from behind his desk and walked over to you.

"What am I supposed to do with you? Even when i try to protect you you still seem to find a way to end up in Hongos medical office. Why cant you just listen to me?"

His tone was softer than before, and you finally dared to look up at him. He had a worried expression on his face.

"I- I didnt think in that moment" you admitted as he bend his tall frame down to you, looking at your bandaged hand where that animal bit you.

"You have no idea how it felt to see you all bloody on deck. How it feels to know that you could die if that animal was highly venomous" he said, gently touching your arm.

You avoided his eyes and looked at the stump of his left arm.

"Yes I do know how that feels. I didnt want to make you experience this too. I'm sorry."

He sighed again, moving his hand under your chin and forced you gently to look him in the face.

"Never do that again. I love you too much for that."

Trafalgar D Water Law

You didn't look at him as he walked past you. You both ignored each other since the argument you had. You felt frustrated and angry at him, but mostly because he was right.

There was an emergency at the submarine, something about the boiler malfunctioning in the middle of the night. You were the closest to it so you tried to fix it, but you werent an engineer - you weren't sure what to do so you just improvised and tried your best until the persons who knew what to do came. Before that happened, hot water splashed onto your arm leaving a nasty burn on it.

Law had bandaged you up, but you noticed something wasn't right with him so you asked him. Which resulted in a heated argument between you two which ended with him snapping at you.

"If you have no idea of something then why do you even try? You're no help here, we just have more work now because of you."

Your eyes got teary when you thought back to his words, but it hurts even more knowing he was right. He had more work because he had to bandage you up, while your crewmembers probably had to fix the boiler more because you damaged it even more with your improvised actions.

You self doubted your worth on this crew now. Sure, you knew how to fight, but that was it. You could bandage up small injuries and cook, but in the end everyone knew how to do that. You had no specialty like the others.

With frustration bubbling up inside you that your captain and lover thought of you as an useless inconvinience, you started working even more. You didn't take a break, you just cleaned the Polar Tank or trained. The burn on your arm hurt most of the time, but you didn't care. You wanted to prove yourself that you weren't just on this crew because you and the Captain were dating.

You asked Shachi if he could explain to you how the boiler and stuff worked. He was perplexed as why you wanted to know that, but you convinced him with saying that next time an emergency happend you could actually help. He agreed, tho he knew that Law wouldn't be so happy about you working when you're already injured.

He explained stuff to you in the engine room and of course, no other than Trafalgar D. Water Law walked in on you two while you were trying to name some parts of the enginge. He looked displeased and coldly said your name and then just walked off.

You didn't want to follow him, but knew that he would be even more pissed if you ignored him. He led you two to the infirmary and told you to sit on the exam table. He then grabbed your hand and unwrapped your bandanges.

"What do you think you're doing, y/n-ya?" he spoke calmly, but you immediately noticed that he was holding back.

"Learning new stuff so next time i can actually help" you answered in a snippy tone.

"You won't do anything next time. I don't allow you to" he said while turning around.

You started to argue back that you just tried to be a help when he interupted you mid-sentence.

"How do you want to be of help when you cant even look after your own wound!"

"You were the one who told me I wasnt capable of anything, and now it's wrong when i try to become usefull!" you almost yelled back, tears of frustration and hurt in your voice.

"I never said you weren't capable of anything, I simply stated that-"

"You said I am no help, that I have no idea what I'm doing and that you all have more work because of me!"

A tear rolled down your face and you started shaking slightly as Law looked at you with widend eyes. He grabbed his hat and pulled it over his eyes as he looked down.

"That wasn't what I meant. I just...you got hurt on my submarine while I was present. I- you shouldn't have gotten hurt when I'm there to protect you."

You looked at him with wide eyes, the tears now streaming down your face.

"You are more than capable of sorting stuff out on your own, you are a big help to everyone on this crew. I didn't mean to insult you or tell you you aren't worthy to be here. It's just...this could have ended up bad. And now I see you working in there again. I can't have you getting injured when I'm just a few feet away" he added as he walked towards you and grabbed your face so you'd look him in the eye.

"I want you to be safe, y/n-ya. And i failed to do that. You and this crew, you're everything I have. I'm a doctor but I can't heal everything. I'm sorry for insulting you, my heart."

Your eyes softend at the last nickname he called you. It wasn't often that he used it, which made it even more special when he did. He is a big softy and constantly worried about you. You laid your head to his chest and murmured an apology, while he leaned down and kissed your hair.

[dollesung]

FEMME FATALE .ᐟ

PAIRING. jungwon x fem reader GENRE. nsfw REQUESTED? yes. WORD COUNT. 1.7k. SYNOPSIS. after a girls day out with your friends, you show your boyfriend, jungwon, your newest set of nails. let's just say he's more than a fan. WARNINGS. sub jungwon. dom reader. reader also yaps a lot. profanities. handjob. dirty talk. jungwon thinking with his penis and his penis only. (lmao). minors do not interact.

NOTE. i wrote this at the hospital semi-drugged on some strong-ass painkillers. i shouldn’t be held responsible for whatever the fuck i wrote but i will be (i’m jk, not about the hospital and the drugs tho.)

Jungwon was waiting by the couch when you got home.

Arm perched by the backrest, with a late-night show illuminating on the TV. Jungwon was nearly half-asleep, as he blankly stared at the screen, but his face lightened at the sight of your figure entering your shared-apartment.

You had an exhausting, but exciting day out with your girl friends. You spent a lot of hours shopping for clothes and bags, as well as pampering yourself with an entire session at a spa and salon.

You deserved it after tiring your back out at work for months now, project after project piling themselves at your desk. Jungwon, of course, your ever-loving boyfriend who could never resist you, absolutely agreed that you needed some time off and supported your endevour.

“Baby, you’re home,” speaking of, Jungwon greets you as you walk in the door, with a multiple array of shopping bags in both hands. “Let me help you with those.”

You give him a grin, handing over half of the bags and letting Jungwon place them on the sofa. He grabs the remote from the coffee table by the TV and shuts it off, wanting to focus entiret on you. (Not that he cared much about that show, anyway.)

Jungwon sets some of your bags down on the floor, leaving a bit of space for the two of you to sit.

“So,” he begins. “How was your day?”

MORE UNDER THE CUT.

“Oh, it was fantastic,” you gush, repositioning yourself to face your boyfriend. “The girls and I spent waaaay too much cash on this one spa but it was kinda worth it because I’ve never felt so relaxed—“

You begin to tell him loads of anecdotes about your day, the stuff you bought, the stores you went into, and without question, Jungwon listened quietly, resting his elbow against the couch and his head against his hand. He let you go on for a few minutes, wanting to hear everything about your day.

“—then, after that, we went to a Dior store, I bought you a perfume, but thankfully they didn’t have the shoes I wanted in my size because I was sure I was going broke already, and oh—!” You stop mid-rant, suddenly remembering something you had in mind earlier today.

“Yes?” Jungwon pried you to continue.

“I got my nails done!” You exclaimed, excited. “You wanna see them?”

“Of course, baby,” Jungwon responded with interest.

You squealed in delight, excited to show the man your new set. You always loved getting your nails done, but in the last couple of months, you were unable to get them fixed due to work.

“Okay, close your eyes,” you instructed, and Jungwon obliged. You placed your hands, palms down in front of his face and told him to look. “Open them.”

Jungwon eyes fluttered open as you told him to, and he was immediately greeted with the image of both of your hands.

“Tada!” You giggled. “I got them in your favorite color!”

The nails, colored both blue and black with a chromatic finish, shined as Jungwon eyed them, with a hand on your wrist so he could get a better look.

“These are really pretty—“ Jungwon notes, feeling his mouth go a little dry. “And long…”

You give the man a frown. “Do you not like them?”

“No—!” He exclaims, giving you an eager look. “I love them! They’re pretty.. I’ve just.. never seen you go for long nails before.”

Not knowing what to say, you keep quiet, watching as Jungwon continues to examine your nails like he’s never seen anything like it before.

You begin to notice a subtle flush of color in his cheeks, as well as the sudden change in his demeanor. His eyes flick between your face and your hands, and you notice him swallow, before licking his lips.

Then, your eyes flick down, towards his lap.

“Oh,” you vocalize, eyebrows raised and lips curling into a smirk. “Really, Wonnie?”

There was an evident print of his bulge against his shorts, which you swore wasn’t there before, given the fact that he’s been staring at your hands a little longer than an average person would, and his earlier expressions, the puzzle pieces click in your head.

Jungwon seems to have noticed your realization, as he makes a move to pull away and hide. “S-Sorry–!”

You grab the man by the wrist, lithe fingers wrapping themselves around the limb. You can almost feel his pulse quickening. “Don’t hide, baby.”

His face is flushed red, and he’s attempting to look away from you, possibly ashamed. You reach out with your other hand, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look you in the eye. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you comfort. “It’s okay.”

“I-I don’t know why…” He attempts.

“There’s no need to explain, love,” you give him a comforting smile. “C’mere.”

You pull him forward gently, allowing him to settle on your lap. You place a hand on his hip, while your other hand starts to brush up against his leg, leaving feather-like touches from his waist, down to his thigh, to his knees. 

Jungwon’s breath hitches, eyes locked on your hands, watching your every move. Then, after fiddling with the hem of Jungwon’s shorts, you press your palm against his bulge, cupping his half-hard cock against his shorts.

“Ah, n-noona,” Jungwon moans. “Y-Your hand…”

“Want me to stop?” You ask, watching Jungwon’s face for any signs of discomfort.

Instead, Jungwon fervently shakes his head, urging you to continue. You press your hand against him a little harder, eliciting a moan from the other. He throws his head back a little, his hands grabbing your shoulders for support.

Jungwon’s hips produce the tiniest bit of movement, and you’re not even sure if he’s aware he’s done it, but you urge him on, gripping his hip with your other hand and letting him grind against you.

“Fuck,” he curses, already looking breathless as he continues to grind on your hand. “Please?”

“Please what?” You look up at the boy, drunk on the image of him absolutely flushed and panting on your lap. “Let noona know what you want.”

Jungwon gasps, hands clenching against your shoulders. “Y-Your hand, please?”

A small part of you wants to continue teasing him, wants to see how far he can beg just for your hand alone, but you decide to take pity on the boy. You push him off your lap and instruct him to take his shorts and boxers off. 

Drunk on his own arousal, Jungwon follows as instructed, tugging the articles of clothing off of himself and unto the floor. Then, you tell him to turn around and sit back on your lap, right after you lean against the arm of the couch. 

Jungwon hesitantly takes his spot back on your lap, and you pull him close, his back flush against your chest. You start to press open-mouthed kisses against the expanse of his neck, relishing at the way the boy shivers at each one.

“Please, ah– stop teasing me,” Jungwon voices, hands placed on each of your knee.

You let out an entertained chuckle, letting your hands wander under Jungwon’s shirt. “You’re not exactly in the right position to be making demands, baby.”

Jungwon didn’t respond and remained quiet, whimpering as your fingers brushed against his nipples, before trailing back down to his legs. You watched in amusement as goosebumps appeared against his skin when you rake your nails ever so lightly against his inner thighs.

Your take a glance at the appendage between his legs, his cock, now hard as a rock, stood between his thighs, looking a little closer, you can almost see the precum pooling from the tip.

You laugh, amused. “You’re so fucking hard, huh?”

Jungwon doesn’t respond, embarrassed at the entire situation, eyes closed shut to avoid both looking at you and at his own arousal. 

“This what you wanted, Wonnie?” You ask rhetorically, before slowly wrapping your fingers around his cock.

“S-Shit,” he curses under his breath.

“Answer me,” you order, giving his cock a rough squeeze.

“Fuck, yes–!” He yelps, panting against your chest. 

“Good boy,” you whisper in his ear with a smirk, before starting a slow pace, stroking his cock with your hand.

“Oh, god,” Jungwon moans, hand loosely holding onto your wrist, as if he was bracing himself. 

You take a minute, stroking his cock at this pace, after a while, you decide to speed things up, focusing on the base of his cock. 

“O-Oh, noona–!” Jungwon’s moans only grow in volume, throwing his head back, against your shoulder. He’s starting to thrash on your lap, legs shaking and eyes closing from the sensation.

“Feels good, hm?” You taunt the boy on your lap, drunk on every moan he lets out. “Feel good, acting like a slut on my lap, Wonnie?”

The boy practically squeals, shaking his head, as if to deny your claim. “N-Not a– shit!”

You didn’t let him finish, the pace of your hand picking up speed as you continued to jerk him off. His thighs begin to shake, threatening to close on your wrists, but your legs keep him from doing so, trapping his legs between yours.

“Look at this fucking cock,” you taunt, giving the organ an experimental squeeze. “Fuckin’ leaking all over my hand.”

Jungwon whines, both hands now gripping your wrist. You’re not sure if he’s attempting to push you off or urging you to continue. ‘’m suh– sorry!”

You take Jungwon’s chin with your other hand, forcing him to look down. “This what you wanted, Wonnie? My hand around your cock, hm?”

He’s nodding so aggressively, eyes locked on his cock, as if he was hypnotized at the sight of your hand– or more importantly, at the sight of your nails, wrapped around his dick.

“Please, n-noona–!” He’s whining, back nearly arching against your chest as you continued your assault on his cock. “I-I’m, ungh, c-close!”

“Want you to cum, baby,” you mouth against Jungwon’s ear. “Cum all over noona’s hand, baby.”

It takes only four strokes before Jungwon was cumming all over your lap. His back arched and head thrown back, eyes shut and mouth open in a silent scream. After a moment, he wilts and nearly collapses against your chest.

As you maneuver him off your lap and onto the couch, you grab a tissue from the coffee table to clean the both of you up. Jungwon is still catching his breath by the arm of the couch after you finish.

“So,” you start. “I’m definitely going back to that nail salon.”

Jungwon chucks a pillow over your head in retaliation.

NOTE. ngl, can't remember writing that ending so idk why it sucks so much.

© dollesung 2025

[spacegyaru]

DON'T LOOK AT IT! PT.2

your phone got lost for some reasons. the following day, the sex tape you made with your boyfriend (reo, hiyori, nagi, otoya, yukimiya) was all around the internet. how would they react?

cw: r18+, mdni! mentions of sex tape and implied sex. humiliation. somewhat angst and comfort. a little bit toxic, hyori is a s*dist! reo's parents don't like you!

a/n: this is the second part!! third part will be rin, isagi, chigiri, barou, oliver, and karasu 😌 i placed them last bc i think they're less likely to film one tbh

masterlist | part 1 (shidou, kaiser, bachira, & sae)

reo mikage:

to be honest, this guy is too decent to have a sex tape. but you guys ended up making two or three videos for two reasons— the first reason is because he had a one month business trip and he was out of the country, so you decided to give him something he'd love to see from time to time. second, it's because he wanted to get back to his parents for trying to set him up for another woman while he had a girlfriend, you. that time, he let all his frustrations out, bending you over while kissing your neck, jackhammering you from behind.

when your phone got lost, you didn't think that much of it. reo got you a new one. until one day, your name made it to the headlines. the video you taped with reo, him taking you roughly from behind, was all around the internet. the slicking sounds, the purple hair… it's all there.

you already felt humiliated by the public. reo was comforting you with kisses and even bought you a luxury bag in an attempt to comfort you. he also booked a private plane for the both of you to get away with problems for a while. his pr staff also tried to fix damage control by deleting all copies of it around the internet and tracking whoever posted it. he was caught just within the day. 

that didn't stop reo's mother from getting mad tho. while you guys were away, she called you to tell that you should stay away from her son. when reo heard this, he immediately grabbed the phone from you and tossed it on the bed, giving you a kiss on the cheek. 

“just stop using that phone right now and pay attention to me. also, don't mind whatever my mom tells you. you're the only one for me… and now, the whole world knows that.” 

hiori yo: 

this guy looks innocent. but don't get fooled. he's a fucking sadist. he'll beat that pussy up and he just knows the right way to do it. you'll have two to three sex tapes per month, and all of them shows how rough he could be on you. when you try to shy away from the camera, he'll hold your jaw so people could see how you look while he hits it from behind.

when your phone got lost, hiyori was the one who brought up those tapes. and he was so calm when he mentioned it, as if he doesn't have a reputation to protect as a part of a huge football team. the next few days, your name made it to the news and the video of you with your legs up to his shoulders while you were moaning his name loudly was everywhere on the internet. 

when you started being humiliated by the public, hiyori tried to comfort you. he bought you some ice cream and cuddled with you. you apologized for not taking care of your belongings but he accepted it. he even made a public apology to those who have seen it. suddenly, while you were cuddling, something hard poked between your thighs.

“oi, y/n. ya think that would go unpunished? a lot of people have seen how much of a dirty girl ya are, and i thought ya were for my eyes only.” 

nagi seishiro

i'll be pretty honest. this guy only did the sex tape because he was going to be away for a while to train overseas. and he only had one.

it wasn't even you all over his cock. it was you suckin him sloppily while he's all laid back playing with his ps5. your skirt was riding up your ass and only your face can be seen on the camera. while nagi's voice can be heard in the background telling how good you take his cock. his low voice is recognizable, and his moans were heard too. but what made him recognized the most is that you called him ‘sei’ and ‘seishiro’ in the video.

his management immediately told him to deny being part of that vid. but nagi refused to. instead, he issued an apology to the public. he'd rather take the blow rather than publicly admitting that you're a cheater. he even said that it was all his idea but did not emphasize how it happened.

nagi was pretty nonchalant about things. what's the fuss all about if the public already knew you were together? but when he saw how pretty affected you are, boi threw his hands to comfort you. he immediately bought some flowers and decided on a romantic dinner night— which ends up with the both of you playing mario kart or tekken. 

“i might look just cool on the outside but i'm kinda worried about you, babe. you need to get out of our room. let's spend some time together, okay? also, you weren't just fucking anyone. you were fucking me, babe. and i’m not just anyone.” 

otoya eita

this guy is another menace. of course he's going to have a damn sex tape cuz he's the type to parade all the girls he's rizzed on. so you guys end up recording your sex most of the time, unless it's a spontaneous one. 

when you lost your phone, you didn't think that much of it. until you saw eita looking at his phone for too long and staring at the screen. you thought he was about to follow another girl again so you grabbed it, but you saw his twitter timeline containing the one video you took with him a few months ago. you dropped his phone with a shocked face. 

you guys ended up arguing because otoya didn't take it as much of a big deal. you were literally telling him, yelling at his face, to make an apology but he didn't want to. he literally said, “why would i be sorry for fucking my own girlfriend?” you almost threw a chair at him. deep inside, he's just proud of himself. 

in the end, you ended up giving him the silent treatment, which for him, is worse than an argument with you. so he apologized with flowers, decorated your room, ordered a champagne, prepared a nice dinner— all that with rose petals on the bed and a fine massage from him. 

“fine babe. you know i hate it when you ignore me like that. i'll make it up to you okay? let me all do the work tonight and just lay on the bed.” 

yukimiya kenyu (i took so much pleasure in this) 

this guy is a closeted freak. he looks like a good boy but on the bed… he really does well. you wondered where he learned those things from when he looked so prim and proper. he loves to explore and recording a sex tape is one of the things that he wanted to try. you also agreed because you wonder if your boyfriend would still look good on the camera, even when in a pussy-drunken state. and you know the answer to that? of course he did. he looked very hot. 

when you lost your phone, the first one to actually worry is him. he immediately thought of the videos that may come out, especially your sex tapes with him. yukimiya immediately reminded you of that, but you were so complacent and didn't think of that possibility. well, he was right. and your names were written all over the social media. 

being respectful and having a good public image, yukimiya immediately apologized and let out a statement, telling people in detail what happened— how your phone got stolen and how it's suddenly uploaded by an anonymous. he even said that his management will take proper measures to track the person behind it and stuff. 

at the end of the day, what happened between you is a comfort-fest on the bed. you both snuggled together, while you cried in yukimiya's arms, telling him how much you feel humiliated. he just kept kissing your forehead while continuing to cuddle with you. 

“i know, y/n. it's an embarrassing thing, okay? but we're all just humans who make mistakes. we just have to be careful next time, okay? i love you.” 

[sisyphus-hye]

Love is Nothing (Part 3)

Thomas must suffer. It was always meant to be that way.

Weeks have passed since Wonyoung's last incident with him. The one where she sent him a personal video of her getting spitroasted and double penetrated by two random men in a fancy hotel room. The video had played in his head every day, every hour, of every minute that he had time to think to himself. The way their cocks stretched Wonyoung's holes, the way she completely submitted to them in a way she never did for him. It was total humiliation on every level.

Over the days since then Wonyoung ordered Thomas to move out of his apartment and move in with her so he could be a full-time cuck to his goddess. The money he made from his well-paying job went to Wonyoung, he spent his time cooking and cleaning her home, he waited on her hand and foot just to be treated like the beta that he knew he was. He did it all just to sit in the corner at night and watch his girlfriend bring home random men and watch them fuck her like he never could.

One night after IVE performed at a particularly successful event, Wonyoung walked through the door with a wicked grin on her face. Thomas knew that look. It meant she had a surprise for him, and it was never the kind of surprise he didn't want. She strutted in, her high heels clicking on the floor, a trail of her heavenly perfume following her.

"Look what I found, Thomas," she announced, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Behind her, six muscular, handsome men stepped into the room. Thomas's stomach churned. This was going to be a long night. It was going to be a night he won't think he'll ever recover from.

"I saw these men in the crowd tonight," she said, her eyes dripping with lust over the men in her home. "They're all such big fans of IVE, and they're all dying to meet me. Aren't you, boys?"

The men all nodded eagerly, their eyes glued to Wonyoung's body, not even acknowledging Thomas's presence in the room. The jealousy boiled in his veins, but he knew better than to argue. He had no choice but to swallow his pride and watch as she put on a show for them.

"Now if you don't mind I think it's time you men take off your pants," Wonyoung demanded, her voice firm and assertive. The room grew tense with excitement as the men complied, one by one revealing their thick, hard cocks. Thomas couldn't help but feel inadequacy as he stared at the size of these strangers. They were all so much larger than him, so much more capable of satisfying her.

Wonyoung walked over to the nearest one, her eyes lighting up with hunger. She reached out and stroked his cock gently, a soft moan escaping her lips. "It seems like you're all very eager to show me your appreciation," she said, her voice a sweet purr. The man's eyes rolled back in his head as she went down to her knees began to suck him off, her mouth moving expertly around his shaft. Thomas felt his own cock stir, but he knew he wasn't allowed to touch himself. This was her show, and he was just a spectator.

The other men watched intently as Wonyoung went to town on the first guy. They jerked themselves off, waiting for their turn. The scent of male arousal filled the air, thick and palpable. Thomas couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of his girlfriend, the woman he loved, the woman he worshiped, on her knees before these strangers. Her tongue flicked out, tasting the precum leaking from the man's tip, and she moaned with pleasure, sending waves of agony through Thomas's body.

One by one, she moved around the circle, her mouth a warm, wet haven for each cock that was thrust into it. The sounds of sucking and slurping filled the room, mingling with the heavy breathing of the men and Wonyoung's own whimpers of excitement. Each man had a different taste, a different texture, a different level of excitement that she eagerly devoured. Her cheeks hollowed as she took them deep into her throat, her eyes watering from the effort, but she never slowed down, never once looking to Thomas for approval or pity.

With a final, triumphant gasp, Wonyoung pulled her mouth off the last cock and looked up at the men, her lips glistening with their precum. "Now, my bitch boy Thomas," she said, her voice hoarse from the abuse, "keep your eyes on me. This is the part you're going to love."

Wonyoung closes her eyes and sticks out her tongue, a gesture of pure submission and filthiness. The men, fueled by lust and the thrill of degradation, start slapping the head of their cocks on Wonyoung's face, her cheeks reddening with each impact. Thomas feels his stomach churn, his mind racing with a mix of anger and arousal. He wants to scream, to fight, but he knows it's futile. This is what he signed up for when he agreed to be her cuck.

After they're done slapping her with their cocks the first man steps forward, grabbing a fistful of Wonyoung's hair, and pulls her head back roughly. She opens her mouth, gasping for air, and he shoves his cock inside, pushing down her throat until she's gagging. She tries to pull away, but he holds firm, his grip unyielding. He starts to pump into her mouth, face fucking her with a brutal rhythm. Her eyes water and her nose runs as she struggles to breathe around the thick shaft. The man looks Thomas right in the eyes as he treats his girlfriend like nothing more than a toy and it continues like that for 5 more men. After one has had their fill of face fucking Wony the other takes their place until all six have had their turn using her face. When they are done Wonyoung's face is covered in spit, precum, and her makeup is ruined. She's a mess but she doesn't care… Anything to make her cuck suffer.

The men form a tight circle around her, their cocks in hand. They're all so close she can feel their hot breath on her skin. They stroke themselves in unison, watching her with hungry eyes. The sound of their palms slapping against their cocks is like a drumroll in Thomas's ears, a symphony of his humiliation. He can see the veins popping out on their shafts, feel the heat of their desire, and the smell of their arousal is like a fog in the room.

Wonyoung looks at Thomas right in his eyes, "You like watching this don't you, you fucking cuck? Watch me get used like a cheap whore," she says with a smirk. "I bet you didn't think that on our first date it'd be like this, watching these six studs all about to paint my face with their cum. Tell me, do you want to see it?"

Thomas nods, unable to speak, his mouth dry and his heart racing. Wonyoung laughs, "Good boy," she says, treating him like an animal that's learned a new trick. She opens her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue in an obscene gesture.

The first man steps closer, his cock pulsing with the need to release. Thomas can see the beads of cum forming at the tip as he jerks himself off. With a groan, the man explodes, sending a thick rope of white liquid directly onto Wonyoung's face. It splashes across her cheek, her nose, and into her open mouth. She doesn't flinch, just keeps her eyes locked on Thomas's, a challenge in her gaze. The second man is quick to follow, aiming for her eyes, but she tilts her head back just in time to catch it on her forehead and let it dribble down her nose and chin.

Thomas feels a mix of disgust and arousal as he watches his girlfriend's face become a canvas for these men's lust. She's so beautiful, so degraded, so utterly used, and it's all for his humiliation. The third and fourth men cover her cheeks and mouth, their cum mixing with the saliva and snot that's already there, creating a sticky, hot mess.

The fifth man approaches, his cock a picture of raw power as it spits and jerks in his hand. Thomas can see the excitement in Wonyoung's eyes, the thrill of knowing what's coming next. She tilts her head back, her long hair cascading down her back like a waterfall. The man's cock is only a few inches from her face when he lets go, a thick rope of cum shooting directly into her left eye. She gasps, the warm liquid stinging and blurring her vision. Thomas's heart races as he watches, his own cock straining in his pants. He wants to look away but can't, the scene too depraved to ignore.

The sixth man, the leader of the pack, steps forward with a knowing smile. He tells Wonyoung to pucker up, and she obeys, her glossy lips forming a perfect O. Thomas can see the anticipation in her one eye that doesn't have cum in it, the spark that tells him she's about to get the grand finale she's been craving. The man strokes his cock one last time before aiming it at her mouth. The head of his shaft is a deep, angry purple, and Thomas can see the bulbous end pulsing with the need to release. The man starts to spurt, a thick rope of cum shooting out and landing right on her plump lips. It slides down to her chin and onto her chest, leaving a sticky trail in its wake. The man keeps going, painting her bottom lip with his seed, then her cheeks, and finally her forehead. She closes her eyes and opens her mouth, catching the last few drops on her tongue. She swirls it around before swallowing with a dramatic gulp, her eyes never leaving Thomas's.

"Oh my fucking God, that felt so good," Wonyoung exclaims while she begins to rub her clit. "Are you still there cucky? It's a little bit hard to see right now," she says, her vision blurred by the cum in her left eye. She giggles as she reaches for a tissue to wipe herself clean, her hand shaking with excitement. "C'mere honey. Come give me a kiss," she beckons Thomas, her voice dripping with mock sweetness.

"Huh?" Thomas questions, his voice barely above a whisper. "You want me to… to kiss you after all that?"

Wonyoung laughs, a sound that's both cruel and playful. "Why not?" she says, her cum-covered face glowing with excitement. "You love me, don't you?"

"You know I do, but-but-but," Thomas stammers, his voice cracking with the weight of his own degradation. But Wonyoung doesn't care for his protests.

"How about this? You come here and give me a kiss or I'm going to get these nice men here to kick your ass and then they'll make you kiss me anyway," Wonyoung says, her voice filled with both a commanding tone. Thomas swallows hard, his heart racing faster than ever before. He knows that if he refuses, it'll just get worse for him.

Thomas shuffles over to her, his legs feeling like they're made of jelly. He tries to keep his eyes on hers, but they keep drifting down to the mess on her face. When he's close enough, Wonyoung grabs his face with both hands, her fingers sticky with cum, and pulls him down to meet her. He closes his eyes, bracing himself for the worst, but it's nothing compared to the humiliation he's already felt. He presses his lips to hers, feeling the warm, salty taste of the men's cum mingle with her own flavor. He kisses her deeply, letting his tongue explore the inside of her mouth, tasting every inch that's been claimed by the others. He can hear the men laugh at him, he thinks he even heard one call him a loser, but he doesn't stop.

Wonyoung lets go of Thomas's face with a smacking sound, leaving him gasping for air. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Good bitch," she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now go clean yourself up. You're a mess." she adds laughing at him.

[voyter]

STAGED FOR THE SEASON ! ... christmas special

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader

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

word count. 18.3k 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.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Very rare nsfw Bird au !! Pls do not interact if ur a minor or I'll fucking kill myself, and then no one will get anymore Naruto content because I'll be dead

So, you know that one type of fic that's like "Tobirama sleeps Madara in an attempt to calm him the fuck down / give him something to focus on / tie him to the village so he will be less likely to leave or self destruct" ?

Ok so THAT. but now throw Hikaku in there to help. They are teaming up to try and tie Madara down before he doom spirals

Ok so. Hikaku and Tobirama talk about how they're worried about Madara's looming self implosion / mental state

Tobirama is like "don't worry, I'll take care of this."

And Hikaku is kinda press x to doubt but also kinda "alright, good luck"

Only for a couple days later Madara to seem to calm down / have become dramatically more smug and peaceful.

So, yk, Hikaku is like "woah, Senju-sama what did you do? Whatever it was, keep it up, this is wonderful I haven't seen him so level in months."

And Tobirama is like "Hmm. Yes. Letting him have his way with me certainly did seem to help calm him, didn't it?"

And Hikaku is like record scratch car crash noises "letting him WHAT."

So Tobirama explains that yeah, he let Madara fuck him. A lot. Also he would NOT shut up during it, which Tobirama also just kind of let happen which also seemed to help...? Double time therapy, I guess

And Hikaku is like. Head in his hands. If it works it works...? He guesses...? Oh my god he wish he didn't know this tho

BUT THEN.

Tobirama is gone for a week on a mission, and Madara is looking pretty bad. Like, sharp decline, he is in a bad way. And Hikaku, panicking, is like "oh fuck what would Tobirama do" and then ends up throwing himself at Madara out of desperation

It works !! Surprisingly well !! There were a couple hiccups at first maybe, but Madara and Tobirama were never exclusive or anything (and Madara might have partially agreed out of spite for Tobirama)

Madara calms down, Hikaku is left with his head spinning and very "fuckkkkk ok, too late to back out now. It worked, we are commiting"

Tobirama comes back and is pleased, less work for him. Good job Hikaku, he knew u were a real one

Now, this is purely tactical for Tobirama (at that point) it's a strategic fuck to calm Madara down, with a bonus of usually being good for him.

So he is pleasantly surprised Hikaku backed him up. He would have thought Hikaku might try and find someone else to throw at Madara, the fact he would sacrifice himself only further proves his loyalty to the village in his eyes

Hikaku one of the real ones fr, Tobirama's trust and respect in him is on the rise

Hikaku still has his head in his hands as he digests the fact this is his life now

Meanehile: In Madara's little world, rhe senju bastard AND his hot most loyal man in the world are throwing themselves at him. He is convinced he's winning.

And like, he is, to be fair. But only because of the mental illness

Madara is sitting around creating convoluted soap opera plot lines for the three of them in his head.

Like, he's imagining Hikaku and Tobirama office cat fighting over him, one of them getting jealous over the other, competing for his attention and affection. Two of Konoha's most powerful, well respected, high ranking shinobi... and they are fighting over Madara... he's so back..

Meanwhile Tobirama and Hikaku are telling eachother ab their recent Madara interactions and going "oh good, that should keep him calm for a few days" and nodding at eachother like "we are in this mess together, my brother in arms"

So, Madara ends up noticing the vibes in that corner and then he possibly ends up getting jealous of them spending too much time alone together (they are strategizing on what to do with/to him next) and gets even more pouty and mad even after they fuck, because "I bet this bitch was thinking about Tobirama/Hikaku the whole time >:(

(Meanwhile, Madara was the one thinking about the other the whole time. Mostly in the context of them joining them)

He finally snaps and rejects one of Tobirama's advances while saying something stupid shit like "why don't u just go sleep with HIKAKU, since I know thats where you REALLY wanna be. You think I haven't noticed you sneaking around with him, huh? Huh? Whore."

And Tobirama is like "are we seriously doing this now? Is this seriously what we are doing? Ok."

And Tobirama and Hikaku now have to strategize to come on to Madara TOGETHER or smthn, or at minimum put on some sort of production to feed into his sudden insecurities so they can guide him out of them

Madara meanwhile remains suspiciously fixated on the idea of them sleeping together (without him!!!! How dare they!!!!)

All of that is to say:

Tobirama and Hikaku end up sleeping together for Madara and having to put on a big show of it just to make Madara feel like he still has the power here.

Tobirama is largely indifferent to this turn of events, Hikaku remains "oh my god how is this my fucking life" but also "well. It's for the greater good, I guess. Not like it's a horrible fate for me."

So anyways: Hikaku and Tobirama alliance to try and calm Madara the fuck down via fucking and letting him fuck them. Pass it on.

[phosphns]

✩ . . . PARAMOUR!CHRIS HEADCANONS

paramour!chris who is your boyfriend’s best friend but, god, he’s so fine.

paramour!chris who couldn’t take his eyes off of you the first time your boyfriend introduced you to him.

“so you’re tyler’s girlfriend, huh?” he said, eyeing you up and down as he bit his bottom lip. “mhm,” you confirmed. “daamn, ‘didn’t think he could pull a chick this fine”

paramour!chris who instantly loved how you reacted to his cheeky comments whenever your boyfriend wasn’t around, all flustered and embarrassed.

paramour!chris who hates to see you acting so couple-y, planning dates and cuddling right next to him. the worst part? he couldn’t do anything about it.

paramour!chris who always finds a way to be near you. whether it’s during group hangouts or offering to help you with something — he’s always lingering a little too close, making your heart race.

paramour!chris who will casually ask about your relationship, like if he wanted to check in, be aware of any little cracks in your perfect relationship.

paramour!chris who tries to feel guilty after your first kiss, but can’t. it all feels too right for him, like it was inevitable. he knows it’s wrong tho, and he does feel bad for putting you in so many troubles.

“what… what did we just- chris, we shouldn’t have-” you chocked out. “we shouldn’t have, but we had-” he answered, looking at you right in your eyes. “w-what are we gonna do?” , “we’ll figure it out. just stay quiet and go back to him” he said, watching you go back to him, like you would always do.

paramour!chris who has promised he’d talk to you, to say that he couldn’t bear it anymore and that he would’ve back off, because it wasn’t fair to you — but he’s cut off by your lips on his.

“listen — i.. i really have a thing for you. here, i admitted it. i can’t even see you with him, but for your sake, i’ll back off. i can’t-” he started, fidgeting with his fingers nervously. you didn’t give him the chance to finish, your lips were on his in the blink of an eye, just as you’d wanted since you stepped into the room.

paramour!chris who can’t back off now — not after you kissed him like he was the one and the only. he will stare at you way more than before, stealing touches and making comments. you’d return them, brushing it off when your boyfriend asked if something was up.

paramour!chris who fucks you for the first time when your boyfriend was away, visiting his family for the easter holidays. you pretended to be sick, just for him to ask chris to look after you. what better opportunity?

paramour!chris who degrades you during the act. he’ll remind you of how much of a slut you are, fucking your boyfriend’s best friend, just because he knows that if he praised you, it’d feel too real and too wrong — well, for you.

“you’re gonna take it all.. aren’t ya? good fuckin’ slut,” he pounded into you with brutality, his hands firm on your hips. “mphh — c-chris… i’m c-close” you murmured in a barely audible voice. your skins beat against each other in a delicious but yet rough way. “yeah? well, you’re not cummin’ yet. turn around.”

paramour!chris who stares at you sleeping after, peacefully in his bed, wishing that it was the normality, you falling asleep in his arms and waking up without any rush.

paramour!chris who makes sure to leave cute dresses, bunch of your favorite flowers and risky notes in your room before every hang-out — with your boyfriend there too.

“hey baby… is this dress new? it’s cute — never seen that tho,” your boyfriend asks, eyeing your little pink dress you had put on — as the note requested. “uhm — yeah! yeah it’s new, i bought it last week,” you stammered nervously, feeling chris’ eyes on your back.

yaps. send requests&asks in for this au! i’m sooo excited i love em

tags. @ultrviolenxe

[friedbaekhyunandeggso]

found you - ch. 6 (part I)

pairing: gojo satoru x female oc (ara natsuna)

tropes: psycho! rival! athlete! yandere! gojo x introvert! smart! rbf! oc

warnings: 18+ only, stalking/possessive themes, profanity, coercion, pet names (kitten, baby), sexual themes, gruesome/violence, physical assault, there’s probably more but i can’t think of it all at the top of my head—just be warned & pls if there’s anything that makes u even slightly uncomfortable pls do not proceed truly

word count/plot: [15.7k!] ara catches gojo’s attention when news breaks that she is the top academically ranked student in their grade. he is ranked second. he tries to befriend her but she ignores him. despite her obvious disinterest, his obsession begins…

a/n: hiii guys i'm back !!! as per usual sorry for taking so long to write/post this but once again writing is truly just a side hobby for me. i do try to write as much as i can whenever i get muse tho so there is that. anyway, i apologize in advance for any spelling/grammar or logistics errors. i did get most of my 'crime investigation' knowledge from tv shows so don't bop me in the head if ur an expert & ur like 'what is this writer on abt' regardless, ya'll r in for a ride. i'm going to try posting the second part of this either tomorrow or wednesday so keep an eye out (it was too much to fit in 1 post oop)

ch. 1 , ch. 2 [ part 1 | part 2 ] , ch. 3 , ch. 4 , ch. 5 [ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 ] , chapter 6 [ part 1 | part 2 ]

He walked off the stage, the cheers still loud after his speech. He glanced over at Ara's empty seat beside his.

He plopped onto his chair and glanced at her empty seat once more. He would be lying if he said he didn’t want to know her opinion on his speech. He'd managed to get their fellow classmates rather riled up, the complete opposite of her somewhat serious speech.

The vice principal standing nearby seemed to take notice of him glancing at Ara’s seat. She offered him a small smile before supplying,

“She went to the bathroom.”

“Oh, thanks.”

She merely nodded before facing Principal Yaga, who was currently speaking on the stage. He was now handing out the rest of their peers diplomas.

Gojo was bored out of his mind. He cheered as loud as he could for his friends but-Goddamn- were there really so many heads in their class? He never realized. But it was entertaining to see Toji turn red as a tomato when everyone cheered as loud as they could when he crossed the stage. The bastard finally graduated.

He cupped his hands and hollered, “TOJIIII LETSGOOOOO!”

Toji briefly shot him a middle finger as he passed.

Gojo grinned, lowering his hands from his face before glancing over at Ara beside him— she still wasn’t there.

His brows furrowed. She should be back by now.. he slipped his phone out of his pocket and checked her location. She was in the bathroom.

He texted her.

s: u good?

s: u missed toji crossing the stage

s: the whole entire school clapped for him

s: they were ready for his ass to LEAVE

He slipped his phone back into his pocket.

10 minutes passed.

He pulled out his phone again and checked her location. She was still in the bathroom.

s: ara

s: ??

s: r u okay?

He contemplated going to the bathroom himself. It'd been too long. He then heard the next student's name.

“Tristan shin.”

Fuck. Shoko’s name was coming up. He'd check after Shoko crossed the stage. A few more names were said until finally,

“Ieiri Shoko.”

Gojo shot up, yelling and cheering like a hooligan. He reached underneath his seat for the confetti cannon and shot it in her direction.

Shoko locked eyes with him and let out a laugh. She was still laughing as she shook the principal’s hand before taking her diploma.

She stuck her tongue out at him as she passed the row he sat in. He grinned back.

Alright, now it was check on ara time. He peeped her location once more to see she was still in the bathroom before standing up. The vice principal glanced his way and he mouthed ‘bathroom’ before slipping away.

He walked past the rows of students to head towards the closest bathroom. Their graduation was outdoors so the nearest bathroom was the one close to the tennis field.

He walked to the bathroom, briefly glancing at the men’s door before walking right into the women’s bathroom.

“Ara?” he asked.

He glanced around before walking towards the stalls to see that none of the stalls were occupied.

His brows furrowed before he glanced down at her location on his phone to make sure her location was right. Yes, it was supposed to be this bathroom. She should be here-

He then grew more confused when he realized his texts never delivered. Then suddenly the dot over the map for her location disappeared.

He frowned before glancing up from his phone to immediately notice one of the sinks filled to the brim with water. He walked over to see her phone in the water.

He quickly pulled her phone out and tried to turn it on. The screen remained black.

Shit. Looks like she needs a new phone. He found it hard to believe she would leave her phone behind in a sink full of water by mistake. This also didn’t answer the big question of where the hell she was.

He glanced around the bathroom. Something felt off.

He entered each stall, searching thoroughly. Nothing. He glanced over the bathroom counter once more. Nothing.

Just as he was about to head out, he stopped. His eyes darted towards the trash bin before approaching it.

He froze for a millisecond.

He reached in and pulled out her rumpled dress. It was a dainty little Ralph Lauren dress from the early 2000s, an archived piece. He glanced within the trash to find her graduation cloak, cap and heels in there as well.

His jaw locked. His heart plummeting to his stomach. Did something happen to her?

Maybe she hadn’t been alone in the bathroom, it was for public use after all. Anyone could come in. Something cold settled within him at thought. 

He stalked out of the bathroom, searching to see if there were cameras near the entrance. Fuck. There weren’t any at this bathroom.

He squeezed her dress in his hand. 

I’m gonna find you, Ara, don’t worry

He was working with the police, but he wanted to choke them all out.

“What the fuck do you mean the academy doesn’t have any cameras on their outdoor campus?”

He spun on Principal Yaga, “The fuck am I paying 50k a year to this school for?”

The chief officer flinched while-as Mr.Yaga frowned, “Watch yourself, Satoru. We’ve never had a need for it. I still gave the police all the camera footage I had.”

Satoru’s gaze was sharper than razors but his attention redirected to the Chief Officer when he spoke,

“We've searched through the footage of the entrances and exits of the academy building that Mr.Yaga provided and we couldn’t find anyone that fit Ara’s profile.”

“Let me see the footage.” Gojo replied.

“I assure you our tech intel team ha—“

“I don't care. I want to see the footage myself.”

Principal Yaga eyed him for his tone as the Chief officer nodded once, “We can arrange that.”

Gojo stood in a tv screen covered room. Principal Yaga stood behind him as a cop beside him explained which screen was which.

“-and this camera is the main entrance of the school. All the footage is time stamped to start at 9:15 am. 30 minutes before the estimated time ara went to the bathroom. If you’d like to speed through you can just hit these buttons.”

“Sweet.” He placed his hand on the back of the cop’s chair and pulled the seat out for him, “I'm gonna take this seat.”

“Uh-“ the cop appeared flustered and he looked at the chief behind Gojo who nodded at him to comply. “sure.”

The cop stood up and Satoru didn’t waste any time slipping into his seat.

He pressed play.

“Satoru, you’ve looked through all the footage several times. It’s okay to admit you can’t find anything-“

He didn’t look away from the screen as he answered sharply, “If you want to go home then just go.”

Mr.Yaga stared at him for a moment before sighing. He stood up and left.

He stared at the camera footage of the main entrance, about 10 minutes after Ara supposedly went to the bathroom. 

They’re were so many people. So many parents arriving late. Families reuniting and talking by the main lawn of the school. Some arriving in private cars others taking taxis, ubers or whatever the fuck.

The point was he couldn’t find her. He'd raked through the videos from each entrance/exit of their school about 20+ times. Meticulously checking each person and yet Ara was no where to be seen.

The cops had also returned from searching the campus. All they brought back was useless pictures of the women’s bathroom with her graduation cap, gown and heels in the trash and pointless interviews of the staff. They now had on record that the vice principal was the last person she spoke to, saying that she was going to the bathroom.

But he’d already known that.

Her phone was still getting fixed by the tech department. The water damage had thoroughly done its job. Had she done that on purpose? Or was it someone else?

Where are you, Ara?

He sat on the edge of his bed. His head in hands.

Cops swarmed his bedroom, taking pictures of every. little. thing. If he heard another camera snap he might lose his mind.

It had been one day without her. One day too long.

He was already losing it, dark voices whispered in the back of his mind-theorizing the worst of things. If something had happened to her..

No. No. Keep it together.

He sat up and walked towards the main detective on the case. Detective Rebecca, specialized in missing persons, quite experienced in her field. He already spoke to her several times. He'd answered question after question about Ara for her-Ara’s recent whereabouts, her daily routine, her schedule, her interests, her habits, her emotional variability, everything.

She was staring at Ara's side of the closet.

She glanced back at Gojo as he approached, “She had quite the collection of clothes, didn’t she?”

Ara's side of the closet was only half full. She had just started exploring her style. A pang went through him when he spotted her prom dress.

“Her collection was just starting.” he explained flatly. 

“What do you mean?” Rebecca asked.

“I mean she was just getting into figuring out her personal style,” he answered while rolling up the sleeves of his dress-shirt to his elbows, “She was into buying jewelry recently.”

He wandered over to the accessory table, glancing over the several Van Cleef, Vivienne Westwood, Chanel—Wait. His brows furrowed. Some of her Cartier and Bvlgari pieces were missing… and now that he looked at her jewelry overall, it seemed to be… a little underwhelming compared to what he’d seen before.

He knew he’d bought her more jewelry than this.

“20 Birkins, wow.” Detective Rebecca commented.

“24.” his eyes didn’t leave the jewelry display as he answered.

“What?”

“It should be 24.” he repeated before turning around. He mentally counted all the Birkins on her wall of purses. It was 20.

“4 are missing, as well as some of her jewelry.” he noted aloud.

Detective Rebecca gestured for some of the photographers to take pictures of the accessory counter and the Birkin wall.

“Could your house staff have stolen something?” she inquired.

He shook his head, “No, we haven’t had new staff in ten years. They are all legally bound, fingerprinted, background checked with no criminal records. They also get overcompensated for their jobs but Marin is the only maid allowed in my room.”

Rebecca scribbled things down in her notepad, “You allow me to speak to all your house staff?”

“Feel free.”

He knew Marin wouldn’t dare. She was loyal. The only possibility left—

“And what jewelry is missing?”

He rubbed his chin, “At first glance.. I see some of her bracelets aren’t here. She also has, like, 10 Pateks. I only see 8 here...”

“Is there any way you can provide me with a receipt of every piece of jewelry you’ve bought her since she moved in?”

His brows furrowed slightly as he examined her jewelry further, there was definitely more than he realized missing.

“Yes.” he answered.

22 Tiffany & co. and Graff bracelets. 17 Bvlgari and Cartier necklaces. 12 pairs of crystalline De Beers earrings. 8 diamond encrusted Chopard rings. 5 custom fitted dresses-all fresh off the runway from big fashion houses-4 Birkins and 2 Pateks were missing. Everything totaling up to a cool four million.

His house staff had all been interrogated and searched but nothing came of it—as he predicted. This was not his house staff’s doing.

And it was confirmed when the head of security at their academy reached out stating that a month prior to Ara’s disappearance she had momentarily been inside their security room.

She’d accused someone of stealing something of hers from Gojo’s car and wanted to watch the security footage of the academy parking lot-so they’d allowed her inside the security room to watch the camera footage—but she technically had been able to see all the screens of where the academy’s cameras were placed. He knew she was smart enough to take note of where cameras were lacking if she wanted to.

And she had.

That was why she was able to bypass the cameras on graduation.

She wanted to leave unnoticed. She’d miraculously sold four millions worth of his gifts and disappeared to god knows where.

Because she wanted to leave him.

He stared at her rumpled graduation dress in his hand. The material of it so thin that when rolled up it fit perfectly into his fist. He somehow managed to keep it on him wherever he went in the past few days that she’d been missing.

4 days. 96 hours. 5,760 minutes. 345,601 seconds…

without her.

His stomach lurched. He stepped out of his car, slamming the door behind him. He didn’t look to see if Ijichi caught the keys he tossed his way and stalked inside the estate.

He was squeezing her dress in his hand so hard that his fingernails dug into his palm-breaking skin.

He bounded up the steps, barely noticing the maid flinching when he suddenly made it to the top step just as she was about to descend. She quickly scurried out of his way.

He walked down the hallway before shoving the double doors of his room open.

His eyes naturally went to the bed first and for a moment he imagined it. Her sitting there, with a pretty little slip dress on and nothing else. She’d finally grown comfortable wearing slip dresses around the house.

He could picture her feet up in the air as she lay stomach down on the bed, Macbook open in front of her. Her face a mask of concentration.

He could almost feel the soft skin of her throat against his lips—he usually kissed her there first, in greeting. He liked to inhale her sweet yet sophisticated perfume—roses and warm cashmere, before capturing her lips and showing her just how much he missed her.

He blinked, finding himself standing right beside the bed. His hand on the sheets.

Ara nowhere to be seen.

He suddenly yanked the sheets off the bed, tossing it with enough strength that it managed to wrap itself around a lamp and hit the ground with it. The sound of a crash ensued.

He stared at the fallen lamp for a moment. He liked that, that sound. It was satisfying.

He suddenly grabbed the pillows, flinging them across the room, letting them hit anything and everything.

He kicked over a nightstand before spotting one of the loveseats he and Ara used to cuddle on. He picked it up and threw it across the room, hitting the TV and making it instantly fall from its place and crack as it hit the ground.

He spotted her macbook and threw that too. It'd already been thoroughly searched and it led to nothing. NOTHING .

He wasn’t aware of what he was doing, simply moving at will. Things were getting thrown-things were breaking, shattering, sprawling in pieces all over the floor. The sound of everything breaking fueled him and he didn’t want to stop.

He didn’t remember entering the closet but the next thing he knew he was yanking off her clothes from the hangers, shoving open her drawers with enough strength to break it from its hinges and throw it.

He grabbed her shoes and flung them before kicking down her shoe shelf, making the whole thing crumble and fall apart.

He punched the glass of her Birkin wall and threw a Birkin into her accessory stand, making everything spill out and shatter. The sound was deafening.

“Satoru!”

He froze, his whole body tensing for a moment before he closed his eyes—forcing himself to breathe.

“Satoru, what the fuck happened?”

He half-turned, suddenly chuckling rather dryly, “What didn’t happen.”

Geto stopped at his side, staring at the state of the room and closet in horror. He then faced him.

Geto eyed his bloody hands, “What happened?” he whispered.

Satoru glanced down, belatedly noticing his bloody hands himself.

“Answer me.” Geto demanded, “Is she okay?”

“I don't know and I don't care.”

Geto raised a brow, “What?”

He suddenly grabbed Geto’s collar, “She fucking left me, Suguru. She’s worthless.”

Geto shoved his hands off, “The fuck are you on about?”

“She planned this shit. All of it. She sold the gifts I bought her and dipped with the damn money.”

Geto’s eyes widened, “How-how do you know?”

“Detective Rebecca found listings of all her missing stuff on the black market. She posted the items from fake accounts and used different bank accounts for each. She transferred the money to e-gift cards, stocks, digital bank accounts, whole bunch of shit so it’s a fucking maze to track where she deposited the money to.”

He went on, “The fake identities she made to get on the black market all have their own bank accounts. She used their accounts to buy a shit-ton of plane tickets set to depart on the day of and day after graduation. Rebecca’s tryna trace the flights to see if they were used, sold or whatever the fuck but I think it’s all a shitty hoax.”

He seethed out, “She musta known that we were gonna find her fake identities—that’s why she booked so many fuckin’ flights. Tryna lead us on a fake trail while she probably used a whole ‘nother identity to take a flight somewhere else—that’s if she even took a flight.”

Geto was frozen, contemplating all of this.

“And her phone?” Geto asked, “Did you find anything on there?”

He shook his head, “Her phone is dead. They accessed her apple ID through another device but they found nothing. Bitch was thorough.”

Geto instinctively wanted to reprimand him for referring to her as a bitch but if this was all true… he was still too shocked by the revelation.

“She…planned this?”

“For months. right under my nose—fucking slutted herself out to me the entire time.”

He looked at Satoru’s enraged expression, he’d never seen his best friend look like this, even when he ranted about his uncle.

“Do you.. really think she would do all of this?” Geto asked.

“I-“ Gojo’s voice cracked, “It's not about what I think, it’s what she did.”

He slowly shook his head, a mirthless laugh leaving him, “Of course she’d be smart enough to use me.”

He felt like he was on the bad end of a really sick joke. He was so… angry, so angry it made his skin itch. None of the mess he created appeased how twisted he felt inside. It felt like his organs had been ripped out and haphazardly stuffed back in and yet, his mind was still attempting to make his body work despite bleeding out all over the place.

He wanted to make her bleed too. He wanted to make her just as angry—just as used—just as betrayed.

“I'm gonna find her.” he promised lowly.

Geto’s eyes widened at his tone.

“Should I kill her when I find her?” he asked, more to himself than Geto.

“Stop talking nonsense, Satoru. You’re not thinking straight.”

“Really?” he chuckled dryly, “I feel like this is the clearest I’ve thought in a while.”

He glanced down at his bloody hands, outstretching his long, scraped up fingers. He watched a dot of blood trail down his wrist from a cut. He didn’t feel any pain.

“How can you even say that, man. You’d melt like fucking putty if you saw her come running into your arms right now. You love that girl.”

Geto’s voice felt distant. He suddenly remembered a time when he and Ara had been messing around, horse-playing and she’d gotten so annoyed at him that she’d thrown a book at him.

If he’d been looking when she threw it, he definitely would’ve caught it but since he’d just turned around it hit his arm.

It was a paperback book so it wasn’t meant to cause any real damage but somehow the end of the thin plastic cover managed to strike a clean line across his forearm. It truly hadn’t hurt but it bled like it did. The blood almost looked like prop blood.

She’d immediately started apologizing, he wanted to laugh it off but she’d been completely serious when she ran off to get the first aid kit. She’d cleaned up his wound with such gentleness, it shocked him.

He’d just stared at her the entire time, in stupefied silence as she treated him as delicately as an infant, lightly dabbing the endless blood leaking from his wound with cotton balls. 

She was focused but her concern was evident in the way her brows subtly furrowed. He could almost see why her father might’ve wanted her to be a doctor. Her jaw was clenched tight as she applied the larger band aid perfectly, covering each bit of the cut.

Once she was done, she sat on the bed beside him, completely still, silent and serious as ever.

“I'm sorry.” she mumbled.

He couldn’t help but crack a grin, “It doesn’t even hurt, baby.”

“Sh.” she shot him a look, “I still don’t like it.”

“Like what?"

“I don't like hurting you.” she snapped.

Something inside him softened.

Her eyes darted away, “Or anyone..” she muttered, correcting herself.

It didn’t matter. his gut had already done this funny little flip flop thing at her words. He grinned despite himself.

“Nah, I heard you the first time~”

You don’t like hurting me, huh? Then what is this?

What is THIS?

He swiveled around, fiercely kicking the remainder of her accessories on the ground. Sending beads, diamonds and broken gold in the air. A heftier one of her chain-link bracelets hit the mirror wall, instantly making it shatter. The sound catastrophic as pieces of glass sprawled across the floor.

The next thing he knew Geto was grabbing him, nearly picking him up as he tried to drag him out the closet. He was saying things but Gojo could barely hear him. His heartbeat too loud as he thrashed fiercely in his hold, still managing to kick his leg out to deliver another lethal blow to her things. More things shattered as he growled.

Geto shoved him out, before closing the closet doors behind them.

“That’s enough—”

“How dare she fucking leave me!” he got all the way up in Suguru’s face, “I gave her everything—everything!” he snarled.

“I gave her my fucking all cuz I love her! She knows I fucking love her. I can't eat, sleep or think without her. She knows it—she’s torturing me.”

Geto’s stoic expression fell. He hated seeing the pain in his eyes, “Sato—“

“She told me she loved me too,” he took a step back, his eyes suddenly distant.

“Was I not supposed to believe her?” he whispered.

He looked down at his reddened hands once more, droplets of blood hitting the floor as he raised them slightly.

It was crazy to think these hands had been on every corner and speck of her skin. Her hair. her lips. her throat, merely days ago. Touching her was as easy as breathing. Her presence was more comforting than being alone. Her eyes were his favorite mirrors.

and now she was just… gone.

He shook his head, “Played me right in front of my face.”

He thought he heard Geto’s voice but he could barely focus on it.

He merely clenched his hands into fists, letting more red droplets hit the ground-at the speed of pounding rain.

“How could she do this to me?” he muttered brokenly.

Finally he felt pain, a rush of it. The feeling of it simmered through his hands and crawled up his arms. Numbing him almost—to the emotional pain he felt inside, but he’d have to die to fully cleanse himself of his internal pain this way.

Suddenly Geto pushed him, drawing him out of his trance.

“Stop it!” Geto was fuming.

His shock transformed into something more cold, “Get out.”

“You need to get a nurs—“

“I SAID GET OUT.”

He never yelled at Geto before. In fact it was typically the opposite.

A tense silence hung in the air.

Geto’s heated glare didn’t budge from Gojo's piercing one. The ring of finality in Gojo’s words seemed to echo.

“Fine.” Geto spat.

He stalked out of the room without a glance back.

Out of the 107 flights she’d booked through her fake identities, 64 were not used, 38 were re-sold and 5 were cancelled.

Rebecca had tracked all of the flight tickets that had gotten re-sold and confirmed them. None of them were her.

Rebecca had informed him of this with regret laced in her tone—as if there was nothing else. No more leads.

But he refused to believe it was over.

It just wasn’t.

All of the flights she’d booked had been from LAX airport. He knew the chances were shit but he had to try. He had to do something—even if it was something as simple as walking around the airport for clues or maybe just to see what she might’ve seen if she’d been here.

The cops had already scoured the cameras of LAX for her but, of course, they found nothing. but he refused to let that stop him.

He entered the airport, the expected packed sight before him. He'd been here several times himself but he’d never entered through the main entrance. He was usually led through a private entrance straight to his jet.

Regardless, a little walk around couldn’t hurt.

He walked around slowly, taking his time to absorb his surroundings. It took him a good 6 hours to walk around the entire LAX in his nonchalant, detailed search.

After purchasing 5 candy bars, 2 coffees and one pack of oreos. He hadn’t found anything. nothing that could lead back to her.

The only places he hadn’t searched were obviously the employee only areas and the women’s bathrooms. The latter bothered him slightly but obviously it was not his place to enter those places.

He just wanted one damn clue. One lead. He needed to find her.

It was dark outside by the time he walked out of the entrance.

As he walked, a homeless man appeared in front of him.

“Please sir, spare some money. Even a dollar would do. Anything, please.”

Gojo was still for a moment. Taking in his reeking, tattered clothes and sad crusted eyes.

The complete opposite of all the people he’d seen within the airport—all the people in there dressed like they were off duty models, as if they had paparazzi waiting to take their airport photos.

He blinked, drawing himself out of his thoughts of the juxtaposition.

He fished a hand into his pocket and withdrew his wallet. He flipped it open and pulled out five one hundred dollar bills, all the cash he had. He didn’t usually carry cash on him so this guy truly caught him at the right time.

He handed the money to him. The homeless man’s eyebrows skyrocketed.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, sir!”

Gojo waved him away, “Spend wisely.”

He nearly snickered at that-he should probably take his own advice.

“I will, I will!” the homeless man skipped away.

“That was nice of you, kid.”

He glanced over to see an officer leaning against a pole nearby. He was bald and appeared to be in his late twenties. His lighter flickered on as he took a puff of his cigarette.

The scent of cigarettes grew stronger the closer he walked to the cop.

“Thanks.” The cop looked just as tired as he felt. He decided a small conversation couldn’t hurt, “Are homeless people even supposed to be out here?”

“Not really but if I were to try stop em they’d just come back the next day. At this point as long as they keep to themselves, we don’t bother em.”

“hm..” Gojo eyed his cigarette curiously.

“But it’s definitely lessened a bit. I bet that guy you just gave cash won't be back. Another one of the regulars left a week ago,” he shook his head, “Lucky bastard found a goddamn diamond ring and planned on pawning it. He’s bound to get a pretty penny for it for sure.”

“Isn’t there some sort of policy against that?”

“I was gonna confiscate it and report him but he said some young girl gave it to him.” he shook his head, “Dunno, if it’s the truth but I decided to let him have it. He obviously needs it more than whoever left it.”

Gojo absentmindedly chewed at the inside of his cheek. He knew this was far fetched but-

He pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of Ara’s promise ring.

“Did the ring look like this by any chance?”

The officer’s eyes widened in recognition, “Yeah! what the- how did y-“

Gojo's entire demeanor changed as he suddenly grabbed the cop by the collar, “Where’s that homeless man?”

“Hey-“ he tried to pull him off but Gojo was taller, stronger, “I-I just told you, I haven’t seen him in a week!”

Gojo manhandled him once more, shaking him, “Do you have any idea where he went?”

“Dunno-I’m assuming the nearest pawn shop? He's homeless so I doubt he’d go any farther than he has to.”

Gojo hastily let him go, glaring all the while. The wicked edge to his eyes capable of making anyone feel smaller than a speck of dust.

“You should be fired.” he said it with such certainty the cop almost felt like he’d gotten fired right then and there, but of course this boy wasn’t capable of that—

But he was. It slowly dawned on him.

He didn't need to know the boy to tell he was of worth and if the ring was related to this boy somehow, he knew he could get in trouble for letting the homeless man go with such a precious item. He could potentially lose his badge depending on how far this kid wanted to take it.

He cleared his throat, “Listen-“

“Do you remember if he said anything about the girl who gave it to him?”

He momentarily froze at being interrupted before shaking his head, “He didn’t say much about her other than that she looked high school aged. I assumed she’s just another rich chick that walks in and out of here on a daily.”

His jaw clenched. He nearly shoved his phone in the officer’s face to show him his lockscreen. It was a picture of her.

“You know this girl?”

He paused, his eyes flickering between Ara’s picture and him, “Yeah.. that’s the girl who’s missing.”

“She's my girlfriend and the owner of that ring.”

“What time was he here?” Detective Rebecca spoke beside him. She’d only allowed him to come with her if he kept his mouth shut—which he agreed to. If the terms would be kept, that was to be decided.

Out of the four pawn shops near the airport that they’d visited, this was the one that finally had what they were looking for. Her ring.

He couldn’t stop staring at it. They’d stored it in a small white cushioned box, much cheaper than the original box it came in.

He was only ever used to seeing it on her finger.

The owner finally stopped flipping through the binder in front of him, “He was here at 3:13 pm, last Tuesday.”

“May I see that?”

The owner turned the binder towards her. She looked it over, “He said his name was Tim Orson?”

“Yes.”

“Did he have any identification for that?”

The owner scratches the back of his bald head, “Not that I can remember..”

She takes a picture of the binder on her phone before turning the binder back to him.

“I'm going to need video footage of when he was here. Can you retrieve that?”

Gojo’s eyes flicker to the camera in the top right corner of the room.

“Yes, yes.” he nods. He glanced behind himself at his worker. He says something in Arabic before the middle school aged boy walks somewhere to the back.

“Is that your son?” she asks.

“My nephew.”

“Does he work here?”

He chuckles awkwardly, “He helps out with the shop sometimes. I never leave him here alone.”

She continues to jot things down on her notepad before saying, “Can you please tell me about your and Tim’s interaction? Did he seem any sort of way?”

The shop-owner scratched his beard, “Hmm.. he was pretty enthusiastic, which makes sense after I saw what he brought in. It took me a while to verify it because-” he laughs awkwardly as if realizing what he was about to say wasn’t quite right, “-I just wasn’t expecting him to have something like that but once I verified it, I gave him an offer and he accepted it right away.”

“How much did you offer?”

“5k.”

Gojo snorted.

Rebecca shot him a look.

“Please—you think that’s worth 5k?” he gestured towards the ring, “Anyone with a brain knows that ring is worth more than 15k off the rip. He undersold it.”

Gojo's gaze slid towards the shop-owner, “What a deal for you, eh?”

Embarrassment instantly sprawled across the shop-owner's face.

Christ. She rubbed her brow before her phone chimed.

She glanced at it, briefly reading it over before turning the phone towards the shop-owner.

“Is this what he looked like?”

Gojo glanced over to see it was an image of a fat man in his fifties.

He nodded, “Yes. That's him.”

“His name is actually Robert Starkey.” she informed him. “You really need to make sure your clients have a proper form of identification before making any sort of exchange with them.”

He avoided eye contact, nodding vigorously, “Y-yes ma���am.”

“Did he say anything about where he got the ring from?” she asked.

“No ma’am. All he said was that it was a gift from a kind young woman.”

Her and Gojo shared a glance before she asked, “Did he say when he received the gift?”

He shook his head.

“Did he say anything else about the girl that gave it to him?”

“He just said that people like her make him remember that they’re still good people in the world.”

Gojo’s brows furrowed as Rebecca further pressed, “Did he explain why?”

“No but… from the way he said it I assumed he was insinuating that whoever gave it to him gave it to him for free.”

Just then the boy reappeared with a cassette tape in hand. The shopkeeper took it from him and handed it to rebecca.

“Here is the footage of when he was here.”

She turned the cassette tape in her hand, “Wow, I haven’t seen these in a while.”

He nods as he mumbled, “We’re a little old school.”

“Is there anything else specific that you remember? Any detail helps.”

“That was all, really. He was barely here for five minutes.”

“Thank you for your cooperation.” she handed him her business card, “If you remember anything else please feel free to reach out.”

“Of course.”

Just as she swiftly turned to exit, Gojo caught her arm.

“That's all?”

She blinked, “Yes.. it seems that airport security guy was able to identify our man. Now that we confirmed it, we'll be able to use the cctv’s to see where he went after he left this store. We can track him.”

She pulled her arm out of his, “We need to get back to the station.”

“Hold on.” he stepped towards the shopkeeper. His eyes dropped to the promise ring, “I'd like to purchase my ring back.”

He stood behind Rebecca and the intelligence officer that were seated before him. They all faced the screen.

The intelligence officer, Ray, showed the fast-forwarded footage of Robert walking out of the pawn shop. The CCTV footage was rather blurry but the pep in his step was obvious.

The sped up footage showed him walking for a while before he stopped in front of Hope Homeless shelter. He seemed to pause for a moment outside, as if deliberating whether or not to go in before ultimately going in.

Ray paused the footage, “He walked about an hour and half to get to Hope Homeless shelter. I couldn’t find any more footage of him on the CCTV’s beyond that. He might still be there.”

Rebecca’s brows furrowed, “Interesting. I wonder why he would go there when he has 5K in his pocket.”

“Maybe he owes someone?” Ray theorized.

“Or maybe there’s someone else he wants to share the money with.”

“I know the director of that shelter.” Gojo spoke.

“You do?” Rebecca questioned.

“Not personally but my father did–does. I can get us a meeting with her within the hour.”

Rebecca and Ray shared a look before she looked at him, “Very well.”

They sat in her office. It was rather sparse, minimally decorated, nothing name-brand. His father had donated to this institution plenty of times, as well as other local homeless shelters, but once his Uncle took over… it wasn’t a priority anymore.

As if she’d read his mind, Rebecca asked, “How does your Dad know her?”

He glanced over to see her eyeing the name-plate on the desk. Gabriela Hopkins. Director of Hope Homeless Shelter.

“He used to donate and occasionally volunteer here.”

“A philanthropist, hm?”

“Sort of.”

“Or was it all for show?”

His eyes cut to her. It was a bold accusation to make but not entirely misplaced. Policiations did many things just for the peoples’ eyes.

“No. My mother put him up to it.”

“Why?”

“She grew up poor but she was smart so she got a full-ride scholarship to Stanford.” A pang went through him–him and Ara were supposed to go there, “That’s where my Mom and Dad met.”

The door suddenly opened and Mrs.Hopkins entered. She appeared to be in her early forties. Her black hair was up in an unkempt bun. She held a coffee cup in her hand.

She outstretched her hand to Gojo as he stood, “Satoru Gojo, it’s nice to meet you. I haven’t seen your father in a while. He’s missed here.”

She went on as he shook her hand, “I trust he’s well?”

“Yeah, he’s great.”

Her eyes slid to Rebecca, “And who is this?”

Rebecca faced her, “Detective Rebecca.”

He watched them shake hands as Mrs.Hopkin’s introduced herself, “I’m Gabriela Hopkins.”

“We’re actually here for information. I would’ve reached out to you myself but I figured it might be more efficient to have our link reach out to you instead since-according to your website-you are overlooking all branches of Hope Shelters in Southern California. Is that correct?”

He leaned back in his seat, listening to the conversation despite tapping his foot on the ground incessantly. Rebecca told him she’d let him come along on the same condition-as long as he let her do all the talking. He supposed he couldn’t blame her since his restlessness was starting to show. He couldn’t remember the last time he slept well.

Mrs.Hopkins sat at her desk across from them, “That’s correct. I was recently promoted.”

“Congratulations. How’s that been?”

She lightly shook her coffee cup as she sighed, “Considering that this is my fifth coffee cup of the day, pretty insane.”

Rebecca smiles, “I feel you. Black coffee is my vice.”

Mrs.Hopkins glanced between the two of them, “So what information is it that you’re looking for?”

“Are you familiar with Robert Starkey?” Rebecca asks.

Her eyes lit up in recognition, “I am. He visits occasionally, he used to spend more nights here but not so much recently. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

“Can you tell me when he was here last?”

“Of course.” she turns to her computer and types in a few things, “He was here last Tuesday, for our dinner service.”

“Dinner service?”

“Some days we offer free dinner packets to the public. The event takes place in our courtyard.”

“Did he stay the night that night?”

“He did not.”

“Do you know how long he was here?”

She shakes her head, “We only jot down the attendees but there’s too many folks that come visit to try to track all of their timings. We do have outdoor surveillance that I could have my security look at.”

“Please do. That would be very helpful.” Rebecca then added, “Did he have any friends here? Anyone he was close to?”

“He used to have a girlfriend here, Vienna, but unfortunately she died of illness. She just didn’t have the means to get the medication she needed. She passed a few years ago.”

“Was he close to any of her friends?”

She shook her head, “Not that I’m aware. He usually keeps to himself. Vienna was the only one he used to speak to before she passed but last we spoke he told me he hangs around by the airport now. I advised him against it but… you know how they can be.”

“Does he have any family he speaks to? Any places he wants to go?”

“If he does, he’s never mentioned it.”

Rebecca nods, pursing her lips. “Well, the reason I ask is because he’s been missing for several days. We’re trying to find him because he might be related to another missing persons case as well.”

Her eyes widened, “Oh my. Has he done something?”

“That's what we’re trying to find out.”

“Well please feel free to look about. I’ll have my security officer provide you with any footage needed. Starkey doesn’t come here much after Vienna passed so there might not be a lot but-”

“That’s alright. Anything helps. Please let your residents and staff know that he is missing and if they know anything about him to let us know.”

“Will do.”

The security guard, Prince, pointed out the blurry man in the video. It was hard to see his face but from what he remembered it was the same clothes Robert Starkey was last seen wearing in the CCTV footage.

There’s a sandwich bag in his hand as he walks off the screen. It’s hard to tell what direction he walked towards with the darkened lighting due to it being night-time. They’d replayed the footage several times. Robert had just taken the sandwich bag from the worker and walked off–not a word to anyone. They’d tried to zoom in and decipher which way he walked towards but it was impossible to tell further than the street he crossed.

Prince stuffs a spoonful of apple sauce in his mouth before saying, “He crosses the street to Thorne St. but that’s just about all you see really.” He states gruffly.

Rebecca returns from her phone call, “Alright, I just told Ray to try retrieve the CCTV footage of Throne St. for that night but it might be a while before he recovers it.”

She raked a hand through her cropped hair before looking at both of them, “It’s safe to say that we are declaring Robert Starkey missing. Someone should come by to drop posters off tomorrow but… we’ll be starting the search for him now.”

“I’m joining the search.” Gojo stated.

“Gojo, I told you the meeting with Mrs.Hopkins was the last thing I’d take you along with. You’re not an investigator. The fact that you’re even here is a breach on my end–”

“An extra pair of eyes can’t hurt during a search.”

“Yes but-”

“Your department’s extra funds are coming from me, aren’t they?”

She stared at him, mouth partially open since he interrupted her.

“I want to see where my money’s going.”

The areas surrounding the homeless shelter were split into four zones. Zone A was where he and Rebecca would be searching-side by side-since Rebecca refused to leave him be. He didn’t understand her issue with him being around when he knew her Director had permissed it.

But she wanted him to go home, eat something and rest. Rest. Ha. Just the thought of it made him want to laugh.

How was he supposed to rest when his home was missing?

He eyed the nearby investigators as he walked. They were all wearing gloves examining things as little as crushed leaves on the ground. This part of town was rather dingy. Cars rarely drove past here. The stench of piss and dust came from a nearby dumpster.

The homes here looked as if they hadn’t been renovated for ages. The people within seemed scared to come out since so many cops were sprawling about. A cop had attempted to go door to door to gather information but it was quickly abandoned when folks refused to open their doors. He could only imagine the things the people living in this neighborhood had seen.

His gaze slid to Rebecca not too far ahead of him. From the tense set of her shoulders he could tell she was stressed. He knew she was anxious about the timing of it all. The last date anyone had any information on Robert was last tuesday. It’s been over a week since then. Any viable evidence hanging around would be hard to find… but not impossible.

It couldn’t be impossible.

He couldn’t help but wonder if that homeless rat had anything to do with Ara’s disappearance. Sure, Ara had planned to leave him but if he found out that rat did anything to her…

A flash of hot white anger piercing through him made him stiffen where he stood. He forced himself to exhale, slowly unclenching his fists in his pockets as he did so.

Relax. Relax. Relax.

It wasn’t working. He was still agitated. A normal person would get whiplash from how quickly anger came to him now. It was always a heartbeat away, ready to boil over and implode. He couldn’t remember if it’d always been like this or if it was just worsening now.

All he knew was that he needed her. He needed her right now.

Rebecca stopped walking mid-step when she noticed him not following her. She quickly turned around, concern etched in her features.

“You okay–”

Suddenly her walkie talkie flared. She quickly pulled it out from her belt to her lips.

“I’m here.”

He couldn’t overhear much due the discombobulated audio but from the way her brows were furrowing it couldn’t be good.

“Alright. I’ll be there.”

“What is it?” he demanded.

“They found him,” despite her words, she appeared disappointed, “In zone 4.”

It didn’t take him long to understand her disappointment.

The man seemed to be laying on the ground at a rather uncomfortable angle. One leg bent awkwardly underneath him, protruding in a way that wasn’t natural for the human body–unless a bone was broken, of course. The back of his head was caved in, he could see the white of his skull at some parts. His lips were cracked and bloody. His face swollen, the welts upon it a deep ugly purple. Something silver and sharp seemed to be poking out of his left eye as well.

The man had been brutalized, that much was clear. Especially with the dark red spot with pieces of skin and hair on the brick wall to their right. Someone had bashed his head repeatedly against it. It didn’t seem like one person did it either, not with the several footprints on the dusty ground surrounding the dark red pool of dried up, crusted blood around the body.

It was pretty clear—crystal fucking clear—that he’d been jumped, robbed and left to die for maggots to have a goddamned feast but where was his clarity? Where were the answers to his fucking questions?

How did you get her ring? Did she give it to you or did you take it from her? Did you ask her what she was doing at the airport? Did she say where she was going? Did she say who gave her that ring? How was she? Was she tearing up like she always is or was she happy—did she smile at you? Did she smile that little half-smile or did she smile with all her pretty pouty lips and teeth? Did you like what you saw? Did you like what she had on? Did you know every square inch of her skin belongs to me? Even the parts you don’t see–her soul, her body, her insides, their all mine—only mine—

“WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WAKE UPPPPP!”

He was shaking him-the dead man. He was so flimsy and smelled like absolute shit. He didn’t care if Robert’s dislocated jaw was swinging every which way or if the maggots on his stabbed eye were falling about. He needed answers. He needed them right. Now.

He was suddenly jostled upwards, his entire body being held back–with multiple hands on him. He thrashed wildly in the cops arms.

“Get the fuck off me and wake him up! WAKE HIM UP!”

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Rebecca’s shrill voice cut through the hot-blooded fog in his brain.

From the way the vein on her forehead seemed ready to burst, he could tell she’d been yelling for a while–he just couldn’t hear it.

Her derision was palpable, “Do you know what you just did? You messed up a crime scene—a crime scene. That’s tampering with evidence and that’s a felony–do you understand?”

He threw his head back, chuckling as he felt the oppressive California sunlight seep into his pores and make his simmering blood boil more. He shook his head as he faced her, an unprompted smile on his lips, “Am I supposed to care?”

He suddenly thrashed forward—sending the officers holding him back in a disarray as they strained to keep him in their grip, “He’s the last person to see her–who knows anything about her—who knows what he did? He should be glad he’s fuckin’ dead cuz I woulda’ done worse.”

He’d never seen a woman turn pale so fast. Her countenance aghast.

“You're done.” she looked past him, “Get him outta here. Now.”

Gojo was picking up one paper after the other, examining each image with as much care as he could. The image on the top right corner of the file seemed to blur but he quickly blinked it away. He stared at the image once-more, the girl looked nothing like Ara but he swore for a second he thought he saw her image there.

He rubbed his eyes. Am I hallucinating things now? Have I fully lost it?

Suddenly a knock resounded at the door and he glanced up. Suguru was leaning against the doorframe of his study with his arms crossed.

“You're finally home.”

Gojo set the file in his hand down, “I’ve been home.”

“What happened to living and breathing at the police station?”

He chewed at the inside of his cheek, “I’m not allowed back there anymore.”

Suguru raised a brow before shaking his head, “I wonder why.”

Suguru stepped into the room, sauntering closer to his desk. His narrow eyes ran over the several boxes in the room before noticing the neatly organized files on his desk.

“What’s all this?” 

Gojo leaned back in his seat, “They gave me busy work cuz I told them I still wanna be involved.”

Suguru picked up the file of the woman he’d been looking at earlier, “What’s the assignment?”

“Apparently, LAX has an average of 241,000 people taking flights daily, about 78,000 of them being women. Since it’s pretty much confirmed that Ara was there, they’re having me look at the 77,128 files of women who took flights on the day of our graduation. They want me to let em’ know if any of the girls look like her since according to their identification tech only a few of the girls match her features. They already traced them and confirmed their identities but I want to check for myself.”

Gojo raked his hands through his hair, “I know I could be wasting my time cuz she might’ve altered her ID photo to look nothing like her but…” his fingers tightened in his hair, “I have to do something.”

Suguru’s eyes widened as he noticed the few boxes that were closed up as if he’d already gone through them.

“How many files have you gone through?”

“6,455.”

“The hell?! Is this what you’ve been doing for the past few days?” Suguru demanded.

Gojo frowned–not even sure how long he’d been at this himself.

Suguru’s hand slammed his desk, “Are you sleeping at all?”

Gojo didn’t answer, merely staring at Ara’s promise ring that’d nearly fell off the desk.

“Damn it, Satoru. I hate seeing you like this, really–” he rubbed his brow, “How long are you gonna keep doing this to yourself?”

“As long as it takes.” he answered but he was zoned out—eyes fixed on the ring. It was her ring. He was undoubtedly sure of it. It was her exact size and it had their initials engraved within the band. He even reached out to the jeweler company to inquire if they’d sold that ring with the same customization to anyone else and they hadn’t. It was her ring—their promise.

And she’d just given it away?

“It’s about to be a month..” Suguru’s voice was low, “since she’s been missing.”

The words hit him like a knife slamming into his chest. 3 weeks and 2 days–he wanted to say, but he knew it was meaningless. Suguru was right.

It was almost a month… without her.

How did I let this happen?

“I know you miss her–”

He grit his teeth, “I don’t—”

“Just hear me out.”

He glanced over to see Suguru leaning against his desk, arms crossed, “I know you want to hate her but let’s be real, it’s more than that–and that’s okay. I.. I know how much she meant to you. What you guys had was different, everyone knows it.”

Suguru faced him, “I know you’re doing everything you can but this isn’t good for you. You’re not taking care of yourself.”

He scratched the back of his neck, “I am though–”

Suguru gestured towards the barely touched plate of food on his desk, “You’re not eating. You’re not sleeping and you don’t leave the house. This isn’t you.”

He swallowed but his mouth still felt dry. For once, he didn’t know how to respond.

His hands tightened around the armrests of his chair before he glanced up at Suguru.

“What else am I supposed to do?”

Suguru’s expression grew torn at the sight of him, “Let the police handle the rest.”

He shook his head, speaking fast, “They’re still going through the LAX surveillance footage. It’s been weeks and they haven’t got shit. It’s not enough—”

Suguru’s hand suddenly clasped his shoulder, “Stop, Satoru.”

His eyes widened as he stared at the sympathy in Suguru’s eyes.

“Stop torturing yourself like this.”

The words threw him off, leaving him confounded. He spoke slowly, “You think… I’ve lost it?”

He looked conflicted, “No but-”

“You think she’s dead?”

“No but I don’t think she wants to be found.”

His throat tightened. His words came out quiet, “So that’s it then? I should just let her go?”

He shook his head, “It’s out of your hands now. You need to stop living like this. It’s gonna eat you up alive.”

It already is. He wanted to say but he couldn’t find it in himself to speak. It hurt. His words hurt. 

He knew she didn’t want to be found—she never wanted him in the first place, until she did. He knew she did. He felt it in the way she looked at him, her gaze had changed. Some part of her had fallen for him, he was sure of it and yet it felt like he was the only one who knew. 

Why did you leave me, Ara? Why?

Do you really think you can forget me?

Only he knew how much opening up to him meant to her. Only he knew how much courage it took for her to come to his doorstep that night. Only he knew that relying on other people was a vulnerability to her and yet he’d got her to rely on him anyway. Only he knew that his lips had touched every mole she was insecure about on her body. Only he knew how badly she needed him to ease her after her nightmares in the dark.

Unraveling herself the way she did worked in the long game to outsmart him but some things could never be undone. She’d only gone to such lengths because she knew it too.

you can run, you can hide, but you can never escape being mine.

He barely felt Suguru squeeze his shoulder, “Come on. Let’s get In-n-Out with Shoko.”

He smiled halfheartedly, “Like old times?”

“Like old times.” Suguru repeated.

He looked at his reflection as he adjusted the collar of his suit. He didn’t bother to even try tame his hair.

He’d been dodging his Uncle’s invites to lame old people events the entire summer but he supposed his avoidance had hit its limit. He was required to come to this dinner party. It was commemorating the 70th somethin’ year anniversary of Gojo Industries.

His Uncle had booked out a venue. He knew there was bound to be tons of champagne, hand-shaking, speeches and all that shebang. His Uncle had told him to prepare a speech but he decided he’d just wing it. Everyone was enamored by him anyway.

He reached for his cologne only to freeze when his gaze caught the display stand. It was a two tier stand, the top was for his colognes, the bottom for her perfumes.

His row was completely stuffed with cologne bottles but hers only had a few. She had just started expanding her scent palate before she’d fallen in love with one perfume. He’d been in the store with her when she discovered it. He remembered how wide her eyes had gotten the second she took a whiff from the test strip. It’d been the cutest thing..

He snatched the perfume up faster than the human eye could follow. He threw off the cap and sprayed it in the air before him.

He closed his eyes.

He set the perfume down with a thunk as he laughed. His hands flattening against the bathroom counter as he faced downwards, shaking his head as he laughed uncontrollably.

He couldn’t stop laughing.

He felt like she was right there. He felt like she was right next to him.

He felt her pulse rapidly firing away against his lips. Her nails digging into his shoulders.

“sato—hnnnng—s-slow down. slow down! ngh!”

He nipped at her jaw, adding to the collection of hickeys on her neck. Her scent clouding his mind.

“you can take it.”

He gripped the edge of the bathroom counter as his mind spiraled.

He sucked at the skin in the crook of her shoulder and neck. He tasted her perfume on his tongue.

She shoved him back, “Satoru.”

Her worry evident as she stared up at him, “We’re in school.”

Her eyes darted down the hallway, checking either side before leaning back against the lockers they were hiding behind.

His hand slipped up the back of her thigh, squeezing her ass underneath her skirt uniform. It was just so cute and plump, he couldn’t resist.

She jumped as he kneaded the soft flesh.

He tilted his head, grinning, “Everyone’s in class, kitten~”

One of her hands pressed against his chest while the other pushed at his forearm, “Stop.” she chastised.

His fingers gripped the countertop so hard it hurt.

She squirmed, burying her face in his chest as he kissed a trail up her arm to her wrist, her scent wafting over him. 

“That tickles.” her voice raspy with sleep, “I can’t sleep like this.”

He’d just scooped her up-bundled in the blanket and all-from the nearby couch onto his lap.

“You’ll be fine.” He teased.

And he was right because once he resumed reading the lengthy document on his computer, she’d passed out peacefully five minutes in.

He shook his head vigorously, his maniacal laughter subsiding as he raised his head and met his crazed expression in the mirror. His eyes had never looked this lost.

I’m losing my mind.

He pushed himself off the counter. His fingers cramped from how hard he’d been gripping it earlier.

His eyes landed on the perfume bottle once-more. Roses Vanille by Mancera. He was tempted to grab the bottle and throw it—maybe the sound of it breaking would be satisfying.

There wasn’t a day that passed where he didn’t think of her.

His emotions always skewed from deep-rooted hatred to an insatiable ache when it came to her. It was always one or the other. Rarely a mix of both. It never got any less unnerving.

He picked up the perfume cap he’d thrown earlier and carefully screwed it back atop the bottle. He set the perfume back on the display.

Despite destroying most of her things in his rage several weeks ago, he’d told Marin to leave the rest of her unscathed stuff untouched.

He stared at himself in the mirror, schooling his emotions.

The one girl who outsmarted him, the only girl who could undo him so quickly.

Everyone thought he was doing better now, slowly coping with her loss—as if he could just become himself again and let her go. He’d answer calmly whenever she was brought up, never letting his facade crack, never letting his possessive thoughts show.

Enjoy yourself now, kitten. I’m never giving up on you.

Go on, keep thinking you got the last laugh. 

When I get my hands on you I’m gonna show you just how far I can go.

As if on cue, his phone on the counter rang. Once he saw the contact name the equivalent of a thousand shards of broken glass fusing themselves back together occurred in his mind. Everything sharpened as if his mind had been dunked in ice-water.

A despicable grin spread along his lips, “Hi James~ I’ve been waiting for your call.”

“Uh-yes. Mr. Gojo, I’ve found a match for whom you're looking for.”

Whom? Who says that? A low chuckle slipped out of him as he ran a hand over mouth, “Go on.”

“She’s located in Memphis, Tennessee. She’s going to the University of Memphis in the fall and moved early into her dorm yesterday.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I’m sending you her information now.”

“Please do.”

He ended the call and scrolled through the information James sent. He deftly read her attributes before his eyes landed on her most recent ID photo—her University ID card. It looked… too accurate. It was Ara’s face. His Ara’s face.

Except she had light brown hair, eye-glasses and was majoring in geology? Was that another interest she’d kept hidden to herself? 

He quickly called up his private jet’s operator. Once he heard the line pick-up he didn’t wait for him to speak, “Peter! Get ready.”

“Yes, sir. Where to?”

He loosened his tie before tossing it, “We’re goin’ to Memphis.”

The University of Memphis campus had quite a different vibe from all the colleges he’d toured. Of course, all the colleges he’d toured had been mainly Ivy leagues but the place piqued his interest nonetheless.

It was straightforward in its design. Brick buildings with white pillars. Blue tiger-print stripes everywhere to signify their mascot and school colors. Most buildings were walking distance from one another. It was nice.

He couldn’t help but wonder what could make Ara settle here of all places? Was it just because it was far away from him? Just so she could live on unrecognized? Or was there more to it?

He knew she didn’t have any family out here so that was out of the question.

He supposed he’d just have to ask her himself.

He sat on a bench near the university center, hands in his pockets. People watching. Students were already milling about. He could feel the anticipation in the air for school to start.

Suddenly his eyes skirted to a girl exiting the university center building, a few books clutched in her hand, tote bag over her shoulder. He briefly caught a glimpse of her face and recognized her. Penn Yves-her new identity. Ha.

Her hair covered her face as she bent down to search for something in her bag while walking. Had she seen him? It didn’t seem likely since she was still walking in his direction.

He got onto his feet and watched her slowly make her way towards him while shuffling through her bag.

Could she walk any slower?

Anticipation gathered in his veins with each step she took. His fingers aching with that familiar rush he hadn’t felt in so long.

He wanted to see her expression. He wanted to see her eyes dilate in fear?—yes, fear. It’d be back to how it was in their early days most likely. When she’d flinch against his touch and look at him with thinly veiled contempt. Or maybe she’d be so surprised she wouldn’t know what to do with herself. Would she pass out? Ha. That would be funny. Or would she—

Her forehead bumped into chest and she gasped as she stepped back. One of the books in her hand instantly falling to the ground.

Her face raised upto his and he froze.

They had the same skin tone and eye-shape, her lashes were a bit shorter but their lips were also similar. Full and pouty. But his Ara didn’t have any freckles on her cheeks nor was her nose as upturned as this girls.

She pushed her glasses up to her forehead when the sun glared in their reflection and he confirmed it. It wasn’t her.

The anticipation in his gut dulled into something more tumultuous, something dark.

She blinked up at him, seemingly taken aback as she spoke softly, “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

That wasn’t her voice either.

He hid his callous expression by bending down to pick up her book. When he held it out to her he had a pleasant smile on his lips, “Don’t worry about it.”

She was still staring at him, an intrigue in her eyes that he’d seen plenty of times before. He was too in his head to find even a morsel of amusement from it.

She took the book from him, finally breaking eye-contact, “Do you go here?”

“No.”

Her brows drew together, “Oh.” The disappointment in her voice was evident.

That made him chuckle but it rang hollow. Everything felt hollow. He’d been foolish to think it would be that easy. Of course, it wouldn’t be that easy.

Ara was a challenge in and of herself. James would need to do more than just a little homework to find her. If there was anything about Ara, she was thorough. Her escape had proven so.

If he’d known that his little fixation on her would lead him here would he do it all over again?

In a heartbeat.

It’d be easy to chat up this girl, take her out on a date then pretend that the girl before him was his new Ara. It would be so easy he wouldn’t even have to try.

But taking the easy way out was never his style, was it? He’d pick the thrill of the game every time—even if it consumed him in the end.

There was no settling. There was no quitting. There was just a challenge that he had to win.

Ara, when I find you just remember…you started this.

He reached out, touching a strand of her brown hair before speaking quietly, “Have a good semester.”

She watched her hair untwirl itself from his finger as he turned around.

Dublin, Ireland.

It’s been a while since he’d been here. The air always felt so crisp it was refreshing. The bakeries were spectacular too—especially alongside the River Liffey.

He crumpled up the wrapper of his strawberry pistachio tartlet from the Queen of Tarts—no sorry, il Valentino, the cafe rebranded apparently. Regardless, he’d devoured it in two bites. He regretted not getting a second.

He tossed the wrapper into a nearby trash can as he walked. It was his first time exploring the Dubh Linn gardens. It was rather gorgeous at sunset. 

He slipped his hands in his pockets as a chill breeze swept past. He took his time with each step until he spotted her.

From the back it looked just like her. From her height, her waist length hair down to the shape of her hips—it looked exactly like her. He just needed to see her face.

Her phone was raised to take a picture of the Dublin Castle. He couldn’t blame her, it looked rather magnificent in the dark. It was even more impressive on the inside. Memories of his mother’s friend's wedding flashed through his mind. He remembered making fun of the old age paintings on the walls.

That felt so long ago..

Suddenly she was walking again, her back still to him.

The urge to see her face suddenly pulsed through him. His pace picked up, as well as his heart rate.

He quickly caught up to her and grabbed her by the elbow, spinning her around. She turned with a gasp, instantly facing him.

Not her.

Her eyes were the same shape as hers, just slightly lighter in color. Her nose was the same but her lips were the subtlest bit smaller. Her brows were thicker as well.

The similarities were uncanny, but he knew this wasn’t his Ara.

“Who are you?” she asked slowly, a subtle Irish accent to her words.

He let go of her elbow, “Ah, sorry. You look like someone I know.”

She searched his face curiously, “You do too. Are you famous?”

He chuckled dryly, “Not really.”

She looked him up and down, “Do you model?”

“No.”

“You should.”

He gave her a halfhearted smile-trying to focus but his mind was elsewhere, “I’ll think about it.”

“Are you single?”

“No.” he answered-then frowned subtly. He answered almost too quickly, as if it were instinct.

She tilts her head, raising one brow, “You look confused.”

He scratched the back of his neck, “Heh, well.. we’re on a break.”

“Damn.” she bites her lower lip, seeming to contemplate something before saying, “I’ve been there.”

He shakes his head, “Is it supposed to be this rough?”

She smiles—it reminds him so much of Ara’s smile his heart began to ache. Ara was always so stingy with her smiles.

“Just be good and I’m sure she’ll take you back.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. It would take me forever to get a face like yours out of my head.”

He exhaled through his nose in humor, “I can’t get her out of my head.”

She hesitates before something seems to click in her eyes. “Do I… look like her?”

He nods.

She laughs, “So you thought I was her when you saw me?”

“..yeah.” he admits.

She laughs again, “Wow.”

Her hair rippled in the wind when a cool breeze passed. “She must be really pretty then.” she adds.

“She is.”

Her eyes twinkle with amusement, “So if I was her, what would you say?”

That was a great question, one that he hadn’t given much thought to just yet. He had a lot to say to her now that he was thinking about it—too much to say maybe, but it was impossible to tell the girl before him any of those things.

He’d save those words for the real deal.

Instead he tilted his head, “I’d tell her I’m taking her home tonight.”

She blushed, a light feminine giggle escaping her lips.

She shook her head, “Nice try.”

He raised his hands to express his innocence, “Wasn’t trying anything, I swear.”

Her eyes narrowed and once-again he was reminded so much of her.

His grin faded, “If I saw her, I really would be taking her home.”

“Mhmm.”

He chuckled.

She had a coy look in her eyes when she took a step back, “Well good luck, with her.”

“Thanks. I’ll need it.”

“Don’t go flirting with her lookalikes either.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She started flirting first but it felt pointless to say. It didn’t even matter because despite all of their similarities and her little flirtatious ways he wasn’t hard-not even in the slightest. He hadn’t gotten hard with the first lookalike either.

She playfully rolled her eyes before turning away. He watched her walk until she left through the garden exit and disappeared onto the street. A cold feeling settling in his gut.

Ara, where are you?

Gojo snaps his fingers, catching Geto’s attention.

Geto glances over, annoyed, “What?”

Gojo’s eyes remained planted on the laptop in front of him as he speedily typed away. “Can you give me my phone?”

He looks over at the charger plugged into the outlet beside him. He reached over and took Gojo’s phone out. His phone flashed open to his lockscreen.

The picture is difficult to make out due to the dim lighting but with enough squinting he’s able to make out that the pic was taken from Gojo’s chin down. Ara is lying comfortably atop his shoulder with her arm sprawled over his chest. She looks fast-asleep but since the blanket just barely covers her waist he can see the outline of her bare breasts pressed against Gojo’s chest.

He reddened before a few text messages notifications began to pop-up on his phone. The contact name for the messages simply one pie emoji.

Geto’s brow furrow, “You got a text.”

Gojo’s eyes don’t leave his laptop, “From who.”

“From pie?”

Gojo immediately snatched the phone out of his hand. He watched Gojo quickly unlock it and stare at his phone with even more focus than the assignment he was working on seconds ago.

“Who’s pie?” Geto asked, confused.

Gojo doesn’t answer, clearly fixed on whatever ‘pie’ was texting him.

“Pie..” Geto muttered to himself as he mulled it over.

Gojo isn’t the type to make someone’s contact name without any significance so he finds himself trying to decode it.

He’s frowning as he glances at Gojo typing away on his phone. He looks completely engrossed. He’d only ever seen him like that when he was texting..

“Is that your private investigator?” he snaps as it clicks.

Private Investigator = PI = pie emoji

Gojo shuts his laptop and slips it in his bag. He swings his backpack over one shoulder as he stands.

“I gotta go.”

“Where?”

He pushes his chair back under their study desk, “To London.”

“What?”

He grins but it doesn’t reach his tired eyes.

“Don’t you have an exam in 20 minutes?”

He shrugs, “I’ll make it up.”

“What?! Satoru—wait!”

“Shhh!” A nearby librarian scolds.

Gojo’s already booked it towards the exit, hastily waving his hand in goodbye as he goes.

She’s shuffling through the books in her cart, completely confused.

Where is it? It was just here.

She bends down to the bottom rack of the cart, deftly reading each title to no avail.

“Where are you?” she mutters to herself.

“Looking for this?” An attractive male voice resounded behind her. There was an American accent to his words.

Her back grazed his chest as she stood. She immediately turned around and backed up.

“Oh-“ she stops mid-sentence at the sight of him. She was already flustered but this… this made her heart rate go staccato.

He was tall—maybe 6’4 or 6’5. His hair was platinum but it didn’t look dyed at all, his light colored lashes proved so. It worked well with his even, pale skin and high cheekbones. But what was even more staggering was the color of his eyes.

They were the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. It was almost alien how spellbinding they were.

But it wasn’t just her that was staring, he was staring too. He was searching her face in a way that didn’t seem sensual. There was a precision to his gaze—rather calculative, like he was studying her.

Then suddenly his gaze closed, all the curiosity coming to a quick abrupt end.

She blinked, taking another step back only to bump into her cart. Crap.

The corner of his lip curled subtly, “Aren’t you at least gonna take a look?”

She glanced down to see a book in his hands—exactly the book she was looking for.

She took it from him, “Thanks.”

She quickly moved further down the shelves to gain some distance from him. It was hard for her to function around pretty people—especially to the degree that he was at. It was already hard being bi and working in a bookstore-pretty girls were everywhere-and now this?

Bah! Get him out of here.

“Sorry I took it from your cart. It looked like an interesting read.”

She found the place in the shelf where the book belonged and shelved it.

“Yeah?” she responded noncommittally.

“Yeah.” he leaned against the bookshelf, crossing his arms as he glanced around, “This is a nice bookstore.”

“It is.” she muttered, avoiding eye-contact at all times as she grabbed another book and climbed the mini-ladder.

“Nerine.” he said slowly, “That’s a flower right?”

She turned around, immediately about to ask him how he knew her name until she remembered she had a name tag on. Please use your brain, Nerine.

But it was odd, not many people knew Nerine was a flower.

She eyed him warily as he ran his thumb over the sides of the pages of a book in his hand. He seemed somewhat entertained by how fast the pages flipped open at the action. That was also another book from her cart.

“That’s a new book.” she spoke more clipped than she intended.

He glanced up, eyes wide, “Oh, sorry. That’ll mess up the pages right?”

Not really. She was just being anal because she liked to treat her books with care but—she pressed her lips together before releasing a short breath.

“Never mind.”

He blinked. He looked like he was near her age. She doubted he was older than eighteen or nineteen.

Since he wasn’t leaving she decided to utilize him, “Can you give me that?” she pointed at another book on the cart.

“Sure!” he instantly set down his book and reached for the one she pointed at.

Suddenly she got the urge to mess with him. She wasn’t sure where it came from-maybe it was because he was so pretty that it was annoying but whatever.

Just as he picked the book up, she said, “Not that one.”

“Oh.” he pointed to the one behind it, “That one?”

“Nope.”

He pointed to the one after that, “This one?”

“Nope.”

He pointed at the book on the opposite end, “This one?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up the book and immediately seemed to notice that it had the same title as the first book he’d picked up. It was just another copy.

He handed it to her with a little smile, “Are you messing with me?”

“Nope.” she answered flatly as she snatched the book from him.

She wanted to laugh at the confusion on his face but it was then that she realized.. he had dark circles underneath his eyes. They were a dull light purplish shade that contrasted quite a bit with his pale skin. She was surprised she didn’t notice it earlier. Boy definitely needs some sleep.

“Do you like working here?” he asked randomly.

Does he really not have anyone else to talk to?

“Yeah.” she answered dryly.

“You probably read a lot, right?”

A lot would be an understatement.

He followed her down the aisle as she pushed her cart, “There’s this book I’m tryna find but I forgot the title-“

“Do you remember the author?”

“No but.. can I tell you what happens in the story and maybe you can help me find it?”

Odd request but “Sure.”

She might actually be able to help him find it with the amount of books she’d read. No genre was a stranger to her—except maybe self-help books. She wasn’t mature enough for that yet. Regardless, with his face she doubted he was reading anything too complicated. If it was a trendy book it’d be easy enough to find.

“So it’s about this girl that gets approached by one of her classmates, she doesn’t really like him that much in the beginning-dunno why-but they stop talking for a bit only for her to go to a party and they end up hooking up.”

This guy is reading a romance? She shoots him a curious glance before continuing to shelf her books.

“Then basically they start hooking up every day after that. She can’t really leave the house much so they mostly hang out at her house and school but sometime later he ends up finding out that her dad is abusive.”

He pauses, “And-erm-he kinda does something about it.”

She raises a brow, facing him, “Like?”

He smiles a bit awkwardly, “He nearly kills her Dad… in front of her.”

Damn! A dark romance? This guy is full of plot twists.

There must be something showing on her face because suddenly he scrambles to say, “But he makes up for it by getting her Dad to a hospital right away, covering the bill and all.”

“Does the Dad know they’re dating?” she asks.

“No but that’s cuz she hid their relationship from him. He’s strict so he doesn’t allow her to date or to go out or-anything really.” he huffed.

“So what happened next?”

“So..” he squints as if trying to remember, “So yeah, she breaks up with him—even though he was only trying to protect her but she’s still mad so.. they end up not talking for two months. Her dad heals up and they get back home from the hospital only for the same shit to happen again.”

She glances up at him again to see a tension defining his jaw that wasn’t there before. He catches her gaze, “Her Dad hits her again.”

“Damn.”

“It was really bad,” he mutters, staring off as if recounting it, “Her body was completely busted up.”

She watched his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, “Anyway, she goes back to her ex cuz she doesn’t want to live with her Dad anymore. He lets her stay and they end up getting back together and doing a whole bunch of cute shit—even confessing their love. Well, the guy been told her he loved her but it took her a while to say it back, but she did end up saying back.“

She glances at him leaning forward in his seat. It seems he found a stool that was supposed to be used for people too short to reach the top shelves. Regardless, she can’t help but feel the stool looks too tiny for him.

He runs a hand through his hair, “Everything is all fine and dandy until graduation rolls around-“ he then quickly adds, “They’re seniors in high school by the way.”

He gnaws on his bottom lip, “And so on their high school graduation she goes missing.”

“Really?” she asks, shocked.

“For real.”

“Did her Dad kidnap her or something?”

His brows furrow, “Nah, not her Dad but listen-after she goes missing, a few things come out. During their relationship her boyfriend would gift her a lot of things and it turns out before she went missing she sold some of the gifts and raked up a couple million-“

“A couple million?” she questions, completely flabbergasted, “How?”

He pauses, his mouth partially open while he squints-as if unsure why that would be hard to grasp until he realizes, “Oh, her boyfriend’s rich so her gifts weren’t cheap. Birkins, Van cleef, you get it. Anywa-“

“Let me guess, he’s a millionaire.” she rolls her eyes.

He blinks, “Billionaire actually.”

“I hate dark romance books sometimes.” she shakes her head, “Go on.”

“So yeah, now the police concluded that she ran off with the money and disappeared without a trace.”

She watches him lean back in his seat and clasp his hands together in front of himself. He looks at her expectantly.

“Where did she go?” she asks.

He shrugged, “Nobody knows, but more importantly—why would she do that?”

“Do what?”

“Up and leave like that.”

“I..” her brows furrow, “I don’t know. You read the bloody book, not me.”

“Yeah, but you’re a girl. Why would a girl do that? Why would she leave everything behind?”

Her mind raced with possibilities as she mulled it over, “I don’t know.. it could be lots of things. She could’ve been unhappy-“

“But why would she be unhappy? She had her man right there, why didn’t she just tell him?”

“Well maybe she didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Maybe she didn’t like him either.”

“But she did though, she did. She said she loved him.”

“People can say anything.”

He looked exhausted, “I know that but like—“ he pauses, as if seriously contemplating something, “She loves him. He knows it.”

She’s a bit taken aback by the intensity in his gaze but responds anyway, “But does she love him if she sold all his gifts for money?”

He looks at her knowingly, as if he’s already considered this but seems to await the rest of her answer anyway.

She stuffed another book onto the shelf, “Clearly something is bothering her. Generally speaking, girls don’t usually make drastic decisions like that without considering everything involved. She obviously knew what she was doing and who she was hurting in the process.”

He silently considers this for a moment before speaking tentatively, “So.. what do you think of her?”

“Well, she’s wrong for doing her boyfriend like that. He technically did nothing wrong but she used him anyway.”

She shakes her head, “But honestly that’s what makes the least sense in the story, if she really loved him-like your so insistent on-she wouldn’t do that unless she had to.”

“Why would she ever have to?”

“Maybe there was some private family drama she didn't want him to know?” she answers unsurely.

“Her Dad’s her only family.”

“Maybe she has a secret health condition?”

“They lived together for 6 months. He would know if she had a disease.”

She threw her hands up, “Then it’s probably some plot twist! I don’t know.”

He watched her frustration, amused, before continuing to press, “And what do you think would be a good plot twist?”

“If she was a spy that would be hot.”

He laughed.

She shelved another book, “But since it’s a dark romance, they usually keep the plot somewhat linear... I’d say her boyfriend isn't as innocent as he seems. You did say that she didn’t like him in the beginning right?”

“I did.”

“Was it like an enemies to lovers situation?”

“Enemies to lovers?” he questioned, before letting out a short laugh, “Kinda, I suppose.”

She nods, “He also does have a violent streak to almost kill her Dad. What-did he try to shoot him?”

“No, he beat the shit outta him.”

“So a few punches?”

“Pft, no. Damn near broke his jaw, his nose, cracked his skull. Dude almost became a cripple.” An airy chuckle left him, “If she didn’t stop him in time he woulda gouged her Dad’s eyes out with his thumbs.” 

“Jesus.” she muttered, “That’s not normal.”

“He was defending her.”

“Yeah but to do all that with your bare hands? It’s giving anger issues.”

He blinked before quickly rebutting, “But if he didn’t jump in, her Dad would’ve hurt her.”

“Okay fine so he’s protective then.”

“Of course.”

“Maybe even overprotective?”

He looked at her intently for a moment before replying, “Maybe..”

She raised a brow, “What do you mean maybe? Was he or was he not?”

He appears resigned, “Yeah.”

She nodded once again, “Maybe that’s it. Maybe it was suffocating for her—maybe he was even violent towards her but she didn’t know what to do because she’s used to violence at home.”

His voice was crisp, “He would never hurt her.”

She shrugged, “He must’ve done something or else I can’t see why she’d leave her billionaire boyfriend alone. She’d be set for life-no, generations with that.”

She snapped her fingers, “She left for revenge. That would be a good plot twist.”

He raises a brow as if intrigued. A smirk seems to play at the end of his lips, “Revenge..” he says the word as if he were tasting it, “How so?”

“She’s getting revenge on all the overbearing men in her life. She left her Dad’s house, which is revenge in itself cuz that’s like a strict parents nightmare. Then she left her overprotective boyfriend, breaking his heart. Now she gets to live on being the cunt that she is.”

“Cunt?” he questions.

She smiles, “It’s a compliment.”

“So you support her then?”

“I support women’s rights and wrongs.” She freezes abruptly before looking at him with a frown, “Hold on, why are you pestering me about all of this? Don't you know why already? You read the book.”

“I left off at the part where she went missing.”

She stands, dusting off her pants as she realizes she completed shelving her cart during the time he took to explain that ‘story’.

“So you decide to fry my brain for theories about the plot?”

He smiles-rather brightly, “Basically.”

He stands up from the stool, “Thank you for the conversation. It was fun.”

“Fun?”

He nods.

She looks at him skeptically, “Well thanks for keeping me entertained while I cleared my cart.”

“Anytime.” he gives her a brief once-over before tilting his head as if realizing something.

“What?”

A slight chuckle escapes him, “I just realized you kinda look like her. The girl from the story.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, same hair and all.”

She’s not quite sure how to respond, “Hm, what a coincidence.”

“Right?”

Revenge.

He chews on the word, as if it’s a bitter candy that he despises the flavor of yet can’t seem to spit out.

It bothers him. It’s been bothering him ever since that girl brought it up.

The Ara he knows is more honest than that though, more straight-laced. She’s the type to think more out of necessity versus revenge.

But then again could he trust his judgment on her anymore? After she managed to manipulate him the way she did?

But was it really manipulation if he knew? He knew she wasn’t comfortable when she first stepped onto his doorstep, when she first slept in his bed. But he watched her, he watched her spread her wings and bloom.

He watched her accept his love and he saw her start to want it. He saw her need it in the way he did.

Which was all he ever wanted. The only fault in his plan was that she got away.

But then there was that stupid word, revenge.

The word that tempted his bleak anger, the roiling waves of betrayal deep in his soul. The word that triggered the voices in the back of his mind to remind him that she wanted him to suffer, wanted him to hurt.

It bothered him because if that was her goal, it was working. He was restless, constantly agitated and barely interested in anything anymore. Everything felt mechanical.

His temper was starting to run less hot—it started to feel cold. Like ice churning in his gut with every memory of her that crossed his mind. He felt it like a thin layer of snow settling on his skin, slowly accumulating overtime.

Is this what you want, Ara?

He tilted his chin up, facing the sky. It felt so close from this vantage point.

Everywhere he looked there was only the sky. The sun setting in the distance painted the vast canvas a multitude of colors. yellow, pale pink, orange, and yet they were all chased away by the indigo blue of night closing in like a veil gliding above the clouds.

A frigid current of air swiftly passed along his face, making his hair flip in the wind and his dress-shirt collar flutter against his neck. It was as if the night sky’s gravitational pull could be felt by him too.

He watched the yellow of the sun disappear, hiding to let noisy LA get bathed in darkness.

It was in darkness after all, where the city thrived the most.

His eyes jolted open when he heard a loud noise. It came from the garage, he was certain of it.

He grunted as he sat up on his bed. He rubbed his head while reaching over to grab his phone from the nightstand with the other. It was 2:05 am.

“Huh?�� he exclaimed in confusion when he saw that all his house cameras were disabled. He hadn’t turned any of them off.

He refreshed his app and the results were the same. The cameras were ‘disconnected’.

Suddenly he heard a sound come from downstairs. He instantly shifted in his place on the bed, facing the hallway.

He swore he saw a shadow pass by. It was incredibly fast. He almost questioned if it was a hallucination.

He grabbed his cane and stood up. He’d developed a permanent limp after his altercation with the robber or whatever shit story Ara had told him had happened that night.

He pulled out his gun from his nightstand and limped over. Had that shitty robber decided to come back? He’d have a real nice surprise this time.

He held up the gun with a shaky hand as he entered the hallway.

“EYYY! Who the hell is in my house?” he bellowed, loud enough to echo in the entirety of the house.

He glanced around the hallway, it was empty but it was dark so his eyes couldn’t help but linger on the darker shadows at the ends of the hall.

Suddenly he heard the sound of something fall—in Ara’s room. His eyes widened.

He didn’t think, he lowered his gun and limped over.

He hadn’t entered her room in months but he didn’t hesitate to swing her door open now.

“Ara?” he questioned, his heart swelling with hope—only to feel something harder than steel slam into the side of his head.

previous chapter I next chapter

[givemeababylikenow]

Anna walked into the building annoyed already, the barista at her local coffee shop made her coffee wrong, she scoffed as she threw the full cup in the trash bin walking towards her office. As she was walking she noticed quite a few guys staring at her, she paid zero attention to them, she had her mind set on the new boss who had just transferred to her job.

She sat down at her desk, taking her laptop out of her bag as she began to start writing up the reports, that needed to be written up. All of the sudden she felt a strange pain in her lower belly, she shrugged it off figuring since her period was due soon it was pre-cramps. The “cramps” continued to go on for hours.. and it wasn’t until lunch time that Anna started to worry.

Anna stood up to go grab her lunch when she suddenly felt a gush of water leave her body. She looked down in complete shock and embarrassment as she looked up to see her new boss standing in front of her, she was about to say something however Anna, ran to the nearest washroom as quick as she could. Once she was in a stall she removed her soaking wet tights and skirt. “What the fuck.. I didn’t even feel the need to use the washroom..” she said to her self as she pulled down her panties.. only to get a strong pain in her belly and an urge telling her to push down!

Anna was beyond confused at this point, tears filling her eyes as she gave in and pushed down screaming. The door which she had forgotten to lock flew opened as her boss stared at her mouth a-gaped. Anna didn’t even realize and if she did she wouldn’t give two shits.. she had to get whatever was in her out now! She spread her legs wide as she continued to scream and push down feeling something suddenly open her “birth canal”

“What the fuck is going on with me!” Anna screamed to no one in particular as she continued to push feeling the object slowly slide to right behind her puffy lips. Her boss had no idea what do at this point, she busted stared at Anna completely turned on as she watched her employee scream a baby out of her cunt.

“Oh my god, it’s stretching my pussy!” Her screams were getting louder by this point as she gripped onto the side of the seat, pushing down harder. “Pleaseeee, get the fuck out of me!” The head of her unknown baby slowly began to crown, Anna not knowing what the fuck is going on. “Please whatever the fuck it is get out of me!”

Anna’s boss not able to contain her self went next to her as she pulled her own skirt off. “Honey.. you’re giving birth, there’s currently a head crowning between your legs.” She whispered.

“What the fuck do you mean! I’m not giving birth I’ve had sex once and he pulled out!” Anna was about to get up, trying to prove to her boss she wasn’t pregnant when a sudden cramp caused her to fall back onto the toilet in agony.”fuck.. I can’t give birth, I can’t be a mom!”

Her boss’s face soften as she grabbed Anna’s hand as she guided it to her crowning pussy. “Look, there’s your baby. You are giving birth and if you continue to deny both of you will be in danger, you need to push.”

“W-why is your skirt off..” Anna mumbled as she looked at her boss. Her boss chuckled as she looked at her, smiling softly. “We’ll need something to wrap the baby in when he or she is here.. now push Anna!”

Anna closed her eyes as she reached for her boss’s hands which she gladly expected, gripping onto them tightly to the point her skin was turning white.. she didn’t mind tho. “You need to push Anna!” She screamed.

“Fuck it burns!” Fresh tears filled her eyes as she pushed down hard. The babies head slowly started to crown as she dug her nails into her boss’s hands.

“That’s a good girl! A few more pushes and we’ll have a head! Fuck, you’re crowning so good. The next baby you’ll be pushing out will be mine.” Her boss said with a smirk.

Anna being in way too much pain to understand what was being said completely in her own world as she continued to scream and attempt to push the baby from her pussy. “Please pull it out!” Her screams got louder as she gave one last push the head popping out, fluid absolutely soaking her boss.

“There you go.. that’s a good girl we have a head!” Her boss let go of Anna’s hands and she gently held the head waiting for Anna to continue pushing. “A few more pushes, and you’re done.”

“Why is this kid so damn big!” Anna screamed tears streaming down her face as she pushed down harder the shoulders quickly being born at once. “No fuck!” The stretch of both babies shoulders being born was a little too much for her..”

“Alright Anna, you’ll need to push slower, other wise you’ll rip your vagina.” Her boss said with a stern voice.

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do!” Anna yelled however she took her bosses advice and slowed down on her pushes, she pushed gently until there was just the hips and legs left to be born. She moved her hands in between her legs, pushing one last time as she caught her son, bringing him to her chest. “Holy fuck.. I’m never doing that again.”

“Never say never.” Her boss chuckled as she wrapped the screaming baby in her skirt.

[marianasbored]

I'm so glad your requests are open omg. Can you make a NSFW alphabet for Gi Hun?? He gets so little attention in the fandom, it's so unfair :(

Ikr he deserves all the love :(

Ofc I’ll give you a Gi-hun nsfw alphabet !! :3

Note: Ive never done an nsfw alphabet before and im not rlly sure what im supposed to put for each letter or if I can just put whatever so im just gonna follow a template i found 😭

I apologize for any mistakes!! This is the most I’ve ever written 💔

Gi-hun NSFW alphabet !!

୭ 🍎 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 📺 ྀིྀི

A = Aftercare

•HE IS THE AFTERCARE KINGGG (ofc he is, you’re his baby after all)

•He won’t go/sleep unless hes cleaned you up already

•Gives you water + food if you haven’t eaten already

•Checks up on you and makes sure you’re okay :3

B = his fav Body part

•I am a firm believer he is an ass kind of guy

•Don’t get me wrong, he loves every part of you!!

•But there’s something abt your ass that he can’t get enough of

•It doesn’t matter if you got a big ass or a small one, he just can’t stop squeezing it!!

•He loves watching it bounce off his cock during sex, slapping itttt omg he just can’t get enough

C = Cum

•He hates when he isn’t cumming inside of you

•Obviously he won’t creampie you if you don’t want him to, but when you let him it’s like he falls in love with your pussy all over again

•He loves watching his cum drip out of your pussy just to shove his cock back in it so “you don’t waste his cum”

•He also loves cumming in his pretty girl’s mouth >.< . And he won’t admit it, but he loves watching it drip out from the corner of it.

D = Dirty secret

•His hidden folder in his phone is full to the brim of pics and videos of you

•obviously you gave him permission (so it’s not that big of a secret) to keep pics and vids of you but you don’t even realize when he’s filming half of the time

•And when you’re away he just looks in that folder if he misses you too much >.<

E = How experienced he is/is he experienced?

•Obviously he’s experienced!!

•This man was married and he’s almost 50 !!

•He definitely knows how to please a woman and I like to think he is amazinggggg at eating you out (like he’d do it for hours and leave you shaking)

F = Favorite position

•As much as he loves doggy, nothing beats missionary (when he’s being dominant). He loves seeing your pretty face scrunch up from pleasure and forcing you to make eye contact !! >.<

•But when he’s being subby he silently hopes you ride him till he’s shaking :3

G = Goofy (is he more serious in the moment? Is he humorous? etc.)

•He’s a goofy guy so ofc you’re gonna have goofy sex sometimes !!

•but he also likes having hot and rough sex or slow and intimate sex, etc.

•So he won’t always be goofy obviously

H = Hair (how well groomed is he?)

•I like to think he doesn’t like to be completely bare but likes to trim down his bush yk

•And he’s a real man so he doesn’t care abt his partners hair <3

I = Intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect)

•No matter how kinky or fast the sex is, it’s never just sex

•There’s always a look of love and admiration in his eyes when he’s fucking you (and vice versa)

•Sometimes he’ll let out a couple of “I love you”s among his praises or he’ll say something like “god you’re perfect…” (if not he makes sure to say it during aftercare!!)

•And if there was any degrading involved then you guys always reassure each other afterwords if needed !!

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

•(I think I’ve said this before) Whenever he masturbates he’s always soooo loud !!

•He just can’t help himself! Especially when he’s always thinking about you when he strokes his dick

•And he can’t stop himself from whining when he wishes you were the one jerking him off instead :(

K = Kink (one or more of his kinks)

•He has a hugeeee praise kink

•Even tho this man is nearly 50 he still gets so hard when you call him a good boy !! >.<

•Even if he’s not subbing, just hearing you tell him how good he’s making you feel makes his cock impossibly harder !!

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

•Obviously he loves doing it in the bedroom, it’s comfortable, it’s classic

•But he also lovessss doing it in the shower

•You look like a goddess when your body’s covered in water and the lights hitting you just right, it’s like you’re glowing

•And the way your moans echo in the bathroom is just perfect !! >.<

M = Motivation (what turns him on)

•Honestly he’s so obsessed with you that just looking at you gets him going

•I mean you’re just that perfect !! He can’t help it !!

•Wearing anything that shows your silhouette gets him drooling over you

•He’s a simple man, really

N = No (something he wouldn’t do)

•I feel like he’d been down for trying whatever but something he definitely would say no to is any type of weapon play (gunplay, knife play)

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

•I said it once, I’ll say it again, THIS MAN LOVES EATING YOU OUT (definitely more than getting a blow job)

•Don’t get me wrong, he loves blow jobs !! He just loves eating your pussy even more >.<

•And as I said before he is INCREDIBLE at it

P = Pace (is he fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

•Honestly I feel like it really depends

•If he’s pent up he’ll probably start off rough but it usually starts off slow and gets quicker the more desperate he gets

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

•He isn’t opposed to quickies but he definitely prefers not to do them since he likes to make sure his baby is properly satisfied

•But if you’re down for one so is he !!

R = Risk (Is he game to experiment? does he take risks?)

•I already said it but he loves experimenting!! He’ll do whatever you want

•He’d pretend that he wouldn’t wanna get caught if you do something in public, but he secretly thinks it makes it more fun !!

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

•I think it would depend on the day, time, etc.

•But I feel like the most he’d do on average is 1-3 rounds

•However if you wanna keep going, he won’t stop you !!

T = Toys (does he own toys? does he use them? on a partner or himself?)

•Yeah I think he’s a freak so he’d definitely own toys

•And since I believe he’s a switch he’d let you use them on him and vice versa if you’re up for it !!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

•he lovessss teasing you and watching you get frustrated

•If there are words he knows turn you on (like for example calling you a “good girl” gets you going) he’ll try to slip it in conversation casually just to see you get red

•And he also secretly loves when teasing turns out bad for him (like for example he ends up getting edged to teach him a lesson !!)

V = Volume (how loud he is, what sounds he makes, etc.)

•He definitely whimpers 🙏

•And I’ve said this head cannon before but he’s superrrr loud

•He gets louder the closer he gets and gets louder the quieter he tries to be, especially while subbing

•Literally whines just from dirty talk

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

•I feel like he’d loveeee having his hair pulled :3

•Like he’d full on moan if you pulled on it during sex or while he’s eating you out

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

•Oh yeah he’s definitely big under those boxers. I mean he’s 5’11 after all

•I think he’s more of a grower tho

Y = Yearning (how high is his sex drive?)

•Yearning final boss

•his sex drive is high for an almost 50 year old

•But again, it’s because he can’t help himself around you

•And if your sex drive isn’t as high as his, he’ll tone it down to make you feel more comfortable ofc

Z = Zzz (how quickly he falls asleep afterwards)

•Pretty quickly honestly, especially after multiple rounds. And sleeping is so easy when it’s with his pretty girl :3

[ammyamarant]

Kamen Rider Gavv ep 1 thoughts

Just going to watch one episode right now because I need to finish Kabuto and I need to Know what Kabuto has up its sleeve. But, the tl;dr of Gavv: Cute show, I can see how traumatized this poor kid will get by the end

Gavv ep 1

okay so I’m already reminded of W. Wonder if there will be a mentor figure that dies like Soukichi does in the first fucking five minutes of W

oh neat doors. I’ve seen Labyrinth too.

jfc how old is this kid he looks baby

yeet out of a plane and the tinkly “oh this is the world mom is from” music lmao

lbr considering the environment you just escaped from and the way you were happy to be freefalling because you were where your mom is from, I think needing some food is understating it.

"what do you have? Do you eat it?" has the same energy as my "what is gender? do you eat it?" joke

WHAT IS YOUR BODY MADE OF

Karakida I want your jacket. Give

Ah you have no communication skills. Understood

"This isn't a monster case" "So what is it?" "Woman fucking killed her own husband and shh keep your fucking voice down"

"today's harvest" and it looks like bloody organs. Hey I've seen 12 Hour Shift too.

oh you've never been allowed actual food have you

oh goddamn it I can hear Apollo aiming the dodgeball already

my dude. you got a tummy ache then gave birth to something. human women would kill for that to be their normal gestation cycle.

mm, cgi is kinda……………………

"hey now I've been fed actual food and have real energy I can make minions" yeah I mean that makes sense. People get all kinds of bodily processes back once they've been properly fed. Usually takes a while for their body to recover but hey you ain't human so I get it

this kid is so sweet and kind giving obvious main character (yeah I know it's shouma) a place to stay and some sweets to eat.

oh right the street drugs WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT HENTAI ASS THING

oh it's just a mouth. Wicked teeth.

Shouma is such a sweetheart

Also ye, I can see why Shouma is enchanted by sweets if his mom never let him have any of the family drugs.

excuse me I need to figure out a way to get into this world and beat down this addict before he hurts this kid

Shouma I would like a full rundown of what you can do because was that super speed and running perpendicular on a vertical surface? My dude? Answers?

Mm, sick monster design

Yeah, the monster and the kid both being like "hey what the fuck" to Shouma is fucking hilarious.

oh fucking ow

your mom turned into a bloody organ thing. Are we sure this isn't just a horror movie?

I feel like these minion things showing up saying "eat gummy!" shouldn't feel as threatening as they do.

OH GOD THE CRYING EYES. I'M HOWLING

"oh with the other one" lmao

I wonder what this show is like on edibles because the bright colours are fun and I had a blast watching Ex-Aid baked. Tho I'd consider that a little too on the nose considering the street drug metaphor of those dark candies

little dudes go somewhere safe that isn't under the fighting feet!

oh interesting so if he gets a lot of battle damage he can repair it by using another minion. Very neat. Wish more "battle damage" was repairable that easily. Looking at you, 3rd Birthday.

oh calling both of them monsters and Shouma just taking it is heartbreaking.

I'm definitely feeling the difference between Takaiwa and whoever the suit actor for Gavv is, but it's more "huh, that's a different way of doing the stunts" than anything bad. I do miss Takaiwa but that's mostly because he's a fucking legend. This guy's doing great, tho.

did… they repurpose the build driver for this?

takaiwa usually stood upright, even for meek characters like Ryotaro, while it seems like this guy's default stance is hunched over. iiiiiiiiiiiiiinteresting. Says a lot about Shouma in this form

okay I was about to say this Rider Kick is lame, but nah, it's pretty good.

Shouma you are sunshine and joy wrapped in ptsd. That's not even a joke I know you're fucking riddled with ptsd from just your memories of your mother alone

Shouma you are not Eiji stop being a hobo

Cute show.

[511rkive]

Thinking about how scrumptious Rafe looked when he was tied up...

am I insane... maybe... more under the cut!

"What're you gonna' do? throw that shit into my mouth like a fuckin' seal?" He spits, to which she almost bursts out with laughter. But she doesn't.

Holding the tray of food out to him with a cocked brow her lips part "Stop being a dick. You're either gonna' die of starvation, or drown when I throw you overboard—"

"Fuck you—" He lunges forward, wincing as the restraints at his wrists dig into the already bruised flesh. He pulls back, shoulders slumping as he curses aloud. She drops the tray to the floor, the carefully prepped sandwich and cut up fruit (courtesy of Sarah and Cleo) lay scattered all over the scratched metal.

She for one, had been enjoying this. For someone as renowned for their more intimidating qualities such as Rafe, seeing him like this —restrained and powerless— was oddly satisfying.

"Oops, did I tie those too tight?." She can't help but chuckle at him as his brows furrow, a classic indication of the anger bubbling beneath his skin.

"Just fuckin' feed me alright? I'm tired of the shit you Pogues are putting me through—"

“I mean… you did sort of beg to come along..." she began, lifting the sandwich to his lips before he could even manage a remark. He chews quickly, furiously.

His eyes meet hers.

He swallows and his lips part.

"I'm trynna' help you all— and I wanna’ make up with my sister!" He groans, head falling back against the wall as his eyes squeeze shut.

His head perks up at the sound of the tray sliding across the floor, the irritating screech causing his eyes to flicker open.

"Would you stop that—" He straightens in his spot on the cabin floor, stiffening when his face comes close to hers.

"Hold still would you? You've got mayo all over your stupid mouth." She mutters, raising a hand to smooth over the corner of his lip with her thumb.

"What?" She questions as she pulls back from him, swiping the smidge of mayo onto the corner of his food tray before sliding a hand under it to pick it up as she headed to stand at the lack of response.

"No— wait." His voice erupts. She glances down at him, head tilted to the side as she awaited his response.

"I— would you— fuck. Nevermind." He shakes his head, shoulders slumping once again.

"Would I what?" She stares down at him. "What is it?" She adds, fingers thrumming over the edge of the metal tray.

"Nothing. Just go." He lets out, eyes averting to the floor before him. Her brow cocks up as if sensing the hesitance in his tone.

"Just go what?—" She began, her head tilts again, expectant eyes meeting his reddened, sleep deprived ones.

"Look— I'm not gonna'—" His eyes roll before he begins to argue back. She steps forward, eager to hear him plead.

"What, Rafe?"

Fuck. The way his name rolled off your tongue gave him chills. He could almost feel the sensation of his lips tingling at the thought of your thumb swiping across them.

You seemed to have unlocked something within him. You knew something in the air had changed, you saw the slight tinge of red dancing on the apples of his cheeks, the twitch of his lips—

And you loved it. Every single bit of it.

You both fall into a short silence.

With your eyes burning into his scalp, Rafe is left with no other choice. To his utmost distaste, he cranes his head upward, eyes meeting yours.

"Please. Leave." He manages. There it is.

The shifting in his seat, thos beady eyes avoiding yours— oh this man was needy.

"Now that's better."

With the faintest of smirks splayed across your lips, you clutch the tray to your side. Sending him one final glance before shutting the door.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was dreadfully late.

Kiara had insisted you do your rounds of the ship "right fucking now" since you'd missed out on multiple of your turns.

For being out at sea it was still tremendously hot, even at night. The air was thick and moisture stuck to your skin like glue to paper. You turn the corner at the end of the hall and something causes your ear to perk.

No, it can't be.

Your pace slows as you practically tiptoe closer and closer to the source of the sound.

oh?

Rafe had been shifting in his seat, knuckles whitening as his hands gripped the pipe behind him. Sweat beads raced down his forehead and cheeks as his hips bucked forward and back. A breathy moan rang out from his slicked lips, the sound swallowed by the screams of steam and waves crashing.

oh.

The fact that you'd humiliated and possibly sexually frustrated Rafe had completely slipped your mind.

Until now, when you'd been sneaking glances into the boiler room to watch him grind on air.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"If you wanted to get off, you coulda' asked me." Your voice broke out.

Rafe scrambles, eyes snapping open.

"F-fuck— help me." He stammers, restraints behind him clinking and clanking.

“Last time I checked, if you wanted help from someone— you'd use your manners.“ the door to the boiler room screeched as she pulled it slightly ajar.

“Please— please. Help me.” He calls out, heart racing at the aight of her frame halfway through the door.

She slips back inside, smirk evident.

[blondphobic]

in celebration of my 1st anniversary as a lads player, i’m sharing my ranking of the current love interests and some random thoughts on them, not that anybody asked or care about

1st place of course comes Rafayel, I wouldn’t be exaggerating saying he’s everything I like in a otome character, he’s SO charismatic, caring, funny, passionate, a switch (jeez who wrote that?), endearing and more, he caught my eye the moment I started playing the game, I adore his dynamic with mc, I’m very fond of flirty banter and they delivered.

he’s so complex and by coincidence I wrote this quite-long-but-not-as-long-as-the-original-draft post yesterday about how people simplify his character’s internal conflict and that he’s much MUCH more than most fans seems to give him credit, I didn’t even know today was gonna be my 1st anniversary, I found out because they sent me celebrative messages, I wrote that just because I fucking love Rafayel. I love you, Rafayel!

2nd place comes Xavier, I’ve been in a Xav phase recently, I can’t really say why because I actually don’t know, I’m just in a Xavier mood, I like his personality and his interactions with MC, he’s very tender, friendly and sweet, I really like that, the jealousy thing kinda activates my fight or flight but I chose to overlook it since he isn’t my main and another LIs gonna step into the 2nd place next month anyway.

3rd place is Zayne, I almost put him on 2nd because I really really like Zayne but it’s more in a “we’re besties” way, love his personality, he’s very kind and considerate, I unaronically think he’s really funny and he’s such a sweetheart with MC, ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ love this guy.

4th place’s Sylus, he was actually 2nd place for some months but somehow ended in 4th here, proving that except for Rafa, my ranking changes constantly, I really appreciate him tho, he’s a very charismatic character. like Zayne he just wouldn’t work for me at long term, he’s too daddy dom archetype for my personal taste, every time he calls MC “kitten” I get the ick.

5th place and surprising no one, comes Caleb for a bunch of reasons (but not the reasons people imagine I would have), not only he just got added to the game and we barely got time to grow attached to him yet but because being honest (and controversial), I find him kinda boring.

I’m not very fond of childhood friends to lovers so this end up influencing my opinion on him, I dislike how this trope relies on fake nostalgia over moments the characters shared together and forget the fact that I, the real person playing the game, wasn’t there and therefore have no emotional connection to this character. He always going “remember when you did that?” “remember how we use to do that?” no, I don’t.

Caleb was on scream for like 5 minutes then fucking exploded now he’s back acting psycho, Infold is giving me zero to none time to build any fondness for him so for me he’s just a rando who’s trying to kidnap me, I get he went through some brainwashing shit but since I don’t know him his betrayal just doesn’t hit like it suppose to hit. I didn’t felt betrayed, I felt disgusted.

also I can’t lie, overprotective men aren’t for me, even before being brainwashed Caleb was already too much for my liking, I already have enough people in my real life who think they know what is best for me more than I do, I don’t need this energy in my silly lil hot men game, if I wake up one day feeling like spending time with a man who’s overprotective to the point of being overbearing I can just hang out with my dad.

that being said I don’t hate him, my heart is forgiven when it come to characters if they’re well-written, Infold made a good job with all of them to this point so there still hope for Caleb, Sylus was lowkey a cunt in the beginning too and everyone seems to have forgotten by now

as a bonus, my expectations to the 6th LI: I want him to be related to Ever but I don’t want him to be a ceo because that would be very boring, there’s nothing sexy about making money by exploiting workers and Sylus kinda already fill the ceo archetype, I would prefer a guy who is/was a scientist working for Ever but he discovered things he didn’t suppose to discover and now wants to leave, something along those lines, we also need a sub character because the girlies who aren’t into the dom daddies are clearly in disadvantage, give us someone even more needy than Rafayel, give us a man who’s so pathetic. He having colored hair would be cool too.

also I want to propose we start referring to the LIs as “the lads” because refereeing to them as “LIs” sounds cold to me and calling them lads is goofy so it’s makes me laugh

[vimoftheforest]

i have finally got on my computer to do this >:3

tagged by @lillunar i go so excited when i saw this :3c

Last song listened to: Would you fall in love with me again from Epic :3c

Favorite color: i like deep emerald/foresty/mossy green shades and blues/teals.... always have had my heart lol. special shoutout to the magenta lips i give my character and "glitter" color shade :3c

Last book: WHOOPS its been so long im not sure... especially what th "last" one was.... I was reading the Quran for awhile.....?

Last tv show: Spongebob LOL, but previously watched Loki (good) and Why Women Kill ( i think ) (it was also hella gooood)

Spicy/Savory/Sweet: ough..... Its hard to pick since I will have intense cravings of either lol. I am a bit of a sweettooth with munchies tho :x

Relationship status: ive been in a relattionship for a few years now, we live together :)

Last thing I googled: "scentbird heart purse" because i saw the fucking advertisement and was high as balls and im like OMG I NEED THIS CUTE HEART IT SAYS FREE BAG? i subscribed but wasn't really paying attention.......... like why the free thing wasnt a heart icon but it wouldnt let you really click on anything........ alas.......... the fine print was so fine mine eyes could not perceive underneath, "purse not included" . kmfs..... i am too devastated to unsub so oh well i guess i willt ry this perfume just this once LOL...

Current obsession: sobs ive been floating in the wind. i dont have much.... i guess marvel rivals since i was hard focusing on getting LORD for Invisible woman lol (achieved)........

tags: @kristactician @clusterfuck0fteenagemelodrama also whoever wants to

tagged by @sydstunes 🤭🤭🤭

last song listened to: not sure ??? if I had to guess based on my history, it would be Pier 4 by Clairo, but I’m gonna plug Even by Rachel Chinouriri and Cat Burns cuz that’s a song I actually remembering listening to lmao

favorite color: don’t have one 😳

last book: unfortunately have not been reading much, but I did sign out an easy, good vibes Black lesbian book called Les Be Honest. I’ve been spending my time reading more fanfic than anything else lmao

last tv show watched: the girls on the bus, I think 🤔🤔🤔 great time but another victim of the true cancel culture (cliff hanger after one season and it’s streaming service decided to send it to the slaughter house)

spicy/savory/sweet: I’m a very big candy person, but if I’m making dinner it better be savoury. Some people delude themselves into thinking that spicy means flavourful and I need you guys to figure yourself out on that, we can have it all if we just put our minds to it

relationship status: girl lmao 😭😭😭

last thing googled: stuff to help someone I tutor practice for an upcoming gov issued exam people in her year have to take

current obsession: caitvi still has me in a chokehold. Also like… the effects of built up minute dehumanization has been on my mind a lot lmao. Caste by Isabel Wilkerson just genuinely changed my life.

looking forward to: Black History Month :)))))

Tags: @silverislander @adultemophase @ashley-grahamcracker @embershroud108 @thebigqueer @icedsodapop and anyone else who catches the vibe 💋