#you tell the story all the time of how you met and all your friends know but still gind it hilarious because every time theres the smallest

[evansbby]

𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: mean jock!Steve Rogers x naive!reader

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+, minors dni, dark, noncon, dubcon, daddy kink, dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, controlling behaviour, cum play, jacking off, lingerie kink, dom/sub dynamic, frat party setting, asshole fratboys, ari levinson mentioned lmao.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: you run into steve at another frat party. this time, it's in his territory. (alternate continuation of chapter two of wicked games, but this has ZERO impact on the wicked games story. again, this does not affect the plot of the original wicked games timeline, it's just a fun little detour, a completely separate story if you will. you can read this without having read wicked games).

“Can we leave? I’m not really in a party mood,” you frown, tugging at the hem of your dress and regretting how short it is. It’s deep purple and form fitted, with a hemline that sits right below your butt. You’d thought the sexiness of it would help you get more into the spirit of things since Wanda had insisted on dragging you here tonight, but clearly that hadn’t worked. 

“Don’t do this right now, Y/N. We need to be seen at these events if we want to be popular.” Wanda smiles and waves into the distance as if she’s recognised a friend. Despite the fact that this is a St. Jude’s party and you know as well as she does that everyone here is a complete stranger to the both of you. 

You wrinkle your nose, “Well, I don’t really care about being popular–”

“Of course you do. Everyone does.” Wanda’s eyes dart around the very crowded, dimly lit basement of the frat house as if looking for someone. 

“But we don’t know anyone at St. Jude’s!” You tug at your dress again, feeling more insecure than ever. 

Tonight was originally planned to be a girl’s night – and you’d already picked out a movie, laid out the facemasks and bowls of popcorn, and pulled on your comfiest pyjamas only for Wanda to show up to your dorm in a slink black dress and strappy heels, telling you there was a frat party at the rival college that the two of you just couldn’t miss, and that she was giving you fifteen minutes to get ready.

“Yeah, but this morning I overheard some cheerleaders, and they said Curtis might be here.” 

Oh. Of course. Now it all made sense. Ever since the night of the last frat party the two of you had been to, the one where Wanda had slept with Curtis Everett… Well, ever since then she’d become a teensy bit obsessed with him. And that was also the same frat party where you and…

“Wanda! If Curtis is here then Ari will be here too! I don’t wanna see him!”

Your best friend rolls her eyes, “Relax. I also heard the cheerleaders say that Ari went back home for the weekend. Sharon Carter was all upset about it, because apparently he didn’t even bother inviting her and she hasn’t met his parents yet. But anyways, keep an eye out for Curtis, would you?”

“Okay…” Begrudgingly, you scan the room. A part of you is happy that Ari is out of town, because it makes it easier not to think about him, knowing he’s miles and miles away. Out of sight, out of mind - that was going to be your motto when it came to him moving forward.

“Looking for someone?” 

The deep voice feels like velvet against your ear, and you inhale sharply at the familiarity of it. Your whole body starts to buzz when you feel a warm hand press against the small of your back, the stranger’s touch brimming with confidence as he easily turns you around. 

You’re faced with a chest. A big, muscly, expansive chest covered in a grey shirt that’s deliciously tight against it. Slowly, you peek up at his face. Blue eyes. Cocky smile. Handsome. Angelic.

“Steve!” you breathe, relaxing at the familiar face, “You’re here!”

He chuckles, casually grabbing your hip and squeezing it, “Well, considering this is my frat house, it would be weird if I wasn’t.”

Your eyes widen, “It is?”

“Yep. Thanks for coming over, sweetheart. I had a feeling I hadn’t seen the last of you after that party.” He winks. And you have to admit - he looks good. All six foot six inches of him, looming above you with that charming smile on his face, that smile being one of the only things you remember from the night you’d last seen him, where he’d been such a gentleman and dropped you home after everything that had happened with Ari.

He’s got a backwards baseball cap on his head, but tufts of his blonde hair peek out from underneath, and his blue eyes sparkle as he watches you, as if he knows you’re checking him out. And unabashedly, he does the same, his pink tongue licking over his lips as he drinks in your body, his hold on your hip tightening. 

“I…uh… yeah,” you feel self-conscious, tongue-tied after the embarrassingly long amount of time you’ve just spent checking him out. “Thanks for giving me a lift home, by the way. I was super drunk.”

He nods, the glint still in his eye, “I should be the one thanking you for that cab ride.”

You blink, “Thanking me? Why?”

For a moment, he just stares at you. And oh, he’s so intense! That’s another thing you remember about him. How his eyes felt like they were boring holes into your very soul.

Finally, he smiles. “Don’t mention it, sweetheart. You looked so cute and helpless, I knew I had to step in.”

“Hey! I wasn’t completely helpless…”

He laughs, “A damsel in distress if I’d ever seen one, and…” he pauses, bringing his thumb up to stroke your lip. Oh, he was so forward too! Considering you’d only ever met him once before and there’d been nothing sexual between the two of you. “Do you remember what I told you that night?”

You shake your head, half in a trance by how he’s just touching you so openly. Except you don’t really want him to stop.

“I told you that if you were my girl, you wouldn’t be allowed to step foot inside a party like that one. Or this one, for that matter.”

You purse your lips, “Fine. I’ll leave then.”

Steve chuckles, encircling both his arms around you as if he owns you, “Too late. I’m not letting you go for the rest of the night.”

“B-But I’m here with Wanda…”

“Who’s that?”

“My best friend. She brought me here, and–”

“Doesn’t matter. This is my house and you’re here with me now. Okay, baby?”

He strokes your cheek and says it so sweetly, that the controlling nature of his request doesn’t even sink in for you. No, you’re way too distracted by the unabashed hunger in his eyes, the confidence in his smile as he yanks you closer, till your chest is pressed up against his, and an embarrassing squeak escapes your lips. 

“I…uh… Steve, I…”

“Say okay,” he commands you, “you don’t have to think so hard when you’re with me, sweet girl. I promise I’ll take care of you just like how I did last time.”

“Uh… I… o-okay…I ju–”

He smirks, “Cute little tongue-tied baby. C’mon, let’s go to my room.”

At that moment, Wanda reappears, a mildly annoyed look on her face. 

“Y/N, didn’t I tell you to keep an eye out for Curtis? What do you think you’re doing–?”

She stops short, her eyes widening when she sees you’re not alone.

“Wanda, this is the guy I met the other night–”

“–Steve Rogers,” Wanda cuts you off, beaming up at him, “What are you doing with Y/N?”

Steve blinks, “Why would I not be with Y/N?”

She looks you up and down, and if you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn her eyes flash and narrow, “Uh, you know she’s with Ari Levinson, right?”

Your jaw drops - why would she say that? She knew you’d vowed never to speak to Ari again!

But Steve looks completely unperturbed, and he lazily throws his arm over your shoulders, yanking you into his hard chest. And you know it’s a display of ownership - he’s been doing it the moment he saw you tonight after all. And it should bother you, but it doesn’t! Oh, it doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t!

“You know what, Wilma? I think I saw Curtis outside by the pool.” He flashes her that charming smile that you thought was only reserved for you.

Your best friend’s eyes widen, “Really?”

“Yeah. He’s definitely there.”

“Thanks, Steve!” She sidles up closer to him, accidentally bumping you out of the way – well, you hope it’s accidental. She strokes his chest, her manicured nails scraping against his shirt, “Would you show me where the pool is please? This place is so big, I couldn’t possibly find it on my own.”

A sudden fire ignites inside you, burning its way up to the surface of your body alongside this weird feeling of… well, you don’t really know. But you stand there, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch their interaction unfold in front of you.

But Steve remains by your side, “Up the stairs and outside the sliding glass door on your first right. You won’t miss it.”

“I’ll come with you, Wanda,” you try to shake off Steve’s heavy arm. You don’t really want to leave him, but it’s only right that you go with your best friend.

“Don’t bother, Y/N. I can see you’re busy.” And she’s off without another glance at you, but she makes sure to brush past Steve as she goes, despite the fact that there’s enough room for her to not have to do that. 

Steve snickers, “That’s your best friend?”

“She’s drunk, I think. Usually she’s a lot friendlier…” your voice trails off as you watch her leave the basement in a hurry. “Is…uh… is Curtis really up there? By the pool?”

Steve smirks as he grabs your hand and tugs you to the stairs, “If that bald-headed fuck was anywhere near here, I’d personally kick him out myself. Now come on, let’s go somewhere a bit more private.”

Steve’s room is neater than you’d assume a basketball player’s room in a frat house to be. Not that you have anything to compare it to since Ari had never invited you into his room. But this one is muted, grey, minimalistic with some basketball memorabilia scattered around. 

He’d wasted no time in getting you alone up there, practically half-carrying you through the crowd of people and up the stairs, his grip on you tight and confident. As if you’d been his girl all your life, as if it was a concrete fact that you belonged to him tonight. And it’s like your body was too entranced to even put up a fight to stop him.

Oh, what had you gotten yourself into?

“Good thing I got you out of there before things got too rowdy,” Steve shuts his bedroom door behind him, and you hear the unmistakable click of a lock. And you know you should feel more alarmed than you actually do - but it’s Steve! He wasn’t like Ari Levinson - he was nice! He could’ve taken advantage of you at that last frat party, but he hadn’t! The only person who’d taken advantage of you that night was Ari.

You could trust Steve.

“Do your parties usually get super rowdy?”

“For babies like you, yes.” Again, he unabashedly stares at your body, at your bare legs accentuated by your high heels, your tight dress that hugs your curves, the dip of your cleavage and the way it rises up and down as you breathe shallowly. “As I said before, I don’t want you down there. Not where they can all see you.”

You wrinkle your nose, “No one was looking at me. I’m from a different college, no one here even knows me.”

His muscular arms wrap around your waist with that same charming confidence, as if he’s known you way longer than he actually has. As if he knows you won’t pull away. How does he know that?

“You’re more innocent than I thought, baby girl.” To your shock, his hands press flat against your thighs before moving upwards, straight up under your dress to cup your bare ass cheeks. You gulp, yet remain rooted in place as he gently squeezes the soft flesh. “Skipping into a frat house looking so fucking sexy, and thinking no one’s gonna notice you?”

“Well, I didn’t skip…”

“You may as well have,” He presses his hard crotch against your front, and he’s so much bigger than you that you can feel his boner digging against your midriff, and it sends jolts straight down to your core. There was just something so hot about him being so big, you being so much smaller, him calling you innocent, him being so forward and unpredictable… It actually reminds you a bit of… NO. No, don’t think about him!

“And guess what?” Steve whispers in your ear as he gently walks you backwards to his bed. 

“Wh-What?”

“I’ve rescued you from not one, but two parties now. You owe me.”

You squeak as he sits down at the edge of his bed and pulls you on top of him. Till you’re perched on his lap like a baby, your butt on his knee and your legs draped across his beefy thighs.

Steve smirks, “Comfy?”

“I think so,” your mind’s frazzled, and your body is buzzing with heat. When did it get so hot? Now, he’s pressing his lips against the nape of your neck, his hands rubbing up and down your body in a way that has you shaking on his lap. Oh, it was too much, it was–

“Look, you have another varsity jacket!” You blurt out, pointing at the familiar blue and white jacket draped over his desk chair. Exactly the same as the one he’d given you the night of the other party. “I still have to return the one you gave me.”

He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear, “You keep it, baby girl. It looked cute on you.”

You duck your head, the compliment making you shy. Somehow, him calling you cute had a way bigger effect on you than him calling you hot, “Really?”

He pushes your chin up with his pointer finger, and it’s all these little touches that he’s administering so casually are getting you so hot and bothered, so worked up on the inside in a way that’s so unfamiliar to you. No one’s ever made you feel like this except for one other person…

He licks the shell of your ear, “Yes. I liked how big it was on you.”

“It wasn’t that big…”

He raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay fine, it was pretty big. But that’s not my fault, you’re literally a giant!” You giggle when he runs his fingers up and down your arm. It’s ticklish but it also feels kind of good.

“You like that I’m so much bigger than you?” Nonchalantly, his finger dips down to hook the hem of your dress.. 

“Well, uh, I don’t not like it…”

“Answer properly.” 

It’s crazy how casual he is, yet at the same time so quietly demanding, so dominating, so in control. How quickly he’s switching from charming and sweet to intensely serious. But it makes you want to do whatever he’s asking of you. 

“Yes,” you squeak, too shy to look into his eyes except he has hold of your chin and is able to keep your gaze locked with his. “Yes, I like it.”

Steve relaxes, “Good girl.”

The compliment makes you feel nice, and you sit there in his lap basking in it for a while. You don’t even notice him hiking your dress up higher and higher, till he snaps the elastic band of your thong. 

“Cute panties.”

“Hey!” Hastily, you push your dress back down, a part of you snapping out of whatever spell he’d cast on you since the moment he’d dragged you up here, and you shoot him your fiercest look. Which only serves to amuse him, the corner of his lip quirking up into a smile. 

“Does the bra match?” 

“You-You can’t just ask that!” 

“I just did. Now answer.”

His brashness should get to you, but for some reason all it’s doing is getting you wet. He was being so inappropriate, and yet it’s like you’re being held prisoner by your own body, which seems to love how he’s touching and petting you right now. How he’s demanding you answer all his questions, how he’s essentially ordering you around. 

“Actually, I have a better idea, baby girl. I think you should show me.” He twirls a piece of your hair around his finger, running his tongue over his lips. His skin is pale, but his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. And oh, he’s so handsome! It makes you want to listen to whatever he says…

“Show you?”

“Yes. You’ll take your dress off and show me what you’ve got on underneath, won’t you?”

“I will?”

Steve smiles easily, smiles like he’s having the most normal conversation on Earth and you’ve just said something funny. “Of course you will. Because you like listening to me. It makes you feel all small and cute, having someone like me be in charge of you.”

Your jaw drops, and yet… Oh, why does him saying that make your core throb?! And you know you shouldn’t… but maybe it would be okay if you did what he asked just this once? After all, he just wanted to see if your underwear matched. There was nothing untoward about that, was there?

A part of you knows you’re being delusional, but you’re also pressing your thighs together subconsciously. As if just him talking like he’s so in charge is getting you so hot and bothered, so turned on. And a bigger part of you, the hornier part of you, can only focus on how big he is, how in control he is, how small you feel in his lap, like you’re his baby and he’s allowed to do whatever he wants with you, and you’ll just let him.

“Stand up,” Steve orders, “Let me see you properly.” 

It’s comical how quickly you scramble to obey him. As if the you who’d arrived at this party feeling bored, irritated and out of place has been replaced by a girl controlled by lust and want, her body betraying her as Steve taps into your most submissive inner desires, and you can’t help but listen to him. 

He nods in approval when you stand between his legs.

“Good. You’re so hot, baby girl.”

“I am?” You beam, despite the fact that you knew you looked good the moment you’d put this gorgeous purple dress on earlier tonight. Despite the time crunch Wanda had put you under, you’d still managed to look more than presentable. And now, a part of you wonders what Ari would think if he saw you—NO STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM. JUST STOP.

”Yes, you are. Now take your dress off.”

“B-But Steve…”

“Do it.”

Cheeks burning, yet pussy throbbing at the same time, you unzip your dress. Trying to make your breathing sound less laboured, you keep your eyes on his. Only because his gaze is so intense, and you’re afraid he’d object if you looked away. 

The dress falls down to pool by your feet, and you stand in front of him in your lacy black set, with high heels to match. Steve inhales deeply, his Adam's apple bobbing as he looks you up and down. And oh, you feel so awkward yet at the same time so turned on when you see that dark look of lust in his eyes. 

“Twirl. Slowly.” He grabs a bottle from the side of his bed, unscrewing it and taking a gulp. You catch a glimpse of the Grey Goose label, vaguely wondering why he has a bottle of vodka stored beside his bed, and how you didn’t know anyone to just drink it straight up like that - no mixers or anything. 

You twirl for him, concentrating on not tripping in your heels. You haven’t had anything to drink tonight, and yet your movements feel sluggish out of nervousness. But you hear a low whistle behind you, before the feel of his large hand grabbing your ass and giving it a squeeze.

“Fuck, look at that cute little baby ass in those panties. Get back on my lap,” he growls. But before you can climb back on, he raises his hand to stop you, “Put my jacket on first.”

“Wh-What–”

He slaps your ass, pushing you in the direction of his desk chair with his varsity jacket draped over it. You gulp, slipping it on carefully. And it’s gigantic on you, the sleeves too long and the hem reaching down to mid-thigh. But Steve only licks his lips, beckoning you over once more. 

“It’s a bit big,” you bite your lip.

Roughly, he yanks you back into his lap, catching your lips between his in a searing kiss. Kissing you like he’s obsessed with you, and your eyes widen as he deepens it, sinking his teeth against your bottom lip carnally. As if he wants to eat you up, and his hands are all over your body, slipping underneath his jacket to touch your bare skin. 

“You’re so sexy, baby girl,” he breathes after he’s had his fill of kissing you. But even then, he pecks your lips between words, and you jolt in his lap when his thumb brushes against your erect nipple through the lace of your bra. He smirks against your mouth, “And you know it, don’t you?”

“No,” you lie, because the way he’s looking at you with such dark, almost carnivorous eyes… Oh, it makes you feel like the sexiest girl in the world!

“Of course you do. That’s why you wore this hot little lingerie set.” He snaps the strap of your bra against your skin and you yelp. “It looks so sexy on you, baby.”

“Thanks!” Most of the fancy lingerie you owned had been bought for you by Ari, but this was one you’d treated yourself with. Which was just as well, because there was something unspeakably awkward about sitting in the lap of one man wearing bra and panties bought by another man.

It was also funny how different Ari and Steve’s tastes were. Ari almost exclusively wanted you in pink or white sets, always something super girly and sweet and innocent. Steve seems to be the complete opposite, with how his eyes are glued to your black lingerie now.

Steve takes his baseball cap off, perching it backwards on your head. Another mark of his ownership, and yet your frazzled mind doesn’t have the capacity to think much into it.

He dips his head, licking a stripe down your cleavage. You gasp, automatically gripping a handful of his hair. He grabs your breasts, pushing them together against his face and nuzzling, licking and nipping as if he’s starved. Pushing the cups of your bra down, he latches on to your nipple, sucking on it roughly. You moan, and it eggs him on, he presses you forward, taking your whole breast in his mouth and sucking hard, covering it with his spit like he’s marking you as his property.

“Such pretty tits,” he mutters, flicking your nipple with his tongue, practically bullying it till it’s hard enough to cut glass, and you’re mewling because it’s so sensitive. But that only eggs him on, and he bites down on it like he’s starved. “Want me to fuck your tits, pretty girl?”

Your eyes widen, and he laughs devilishly. It was crazy how angelic he looked compared to how filthy he was being right now!

Again, he pushes your breasts together, licking down your cleavage like he’s obsessed, a wicked smile on is face when he finally comes up for air. “Every party I’ve seen you at, you’re always wearing some cute little dress that barely covers anything, like you’re some sort of goddamned tease. Tell me, baby. Are you gonna be a tease tonight?”

Meanly, he pinches your nipple, chuckling when you cry out. Your brain is too fried to answer his question properly, and so you just whimper.

Luckily, he doesn’t push it, doesn’t force an answer out of you like how he’s been doing all night. Perhaps too distracted by your chest, his head dips back down. His hands are ruthless, so big, rough and calloused from basketball. Squeezing your tits like they’re just toys to him, like your body is his to play with, and he knows exactly how to touch you, almost as if he’s done it before.

“S-Steve,” you feel lightheaded with pleasure, amped up at how carnal he’s being. How he’s not holding back at all, how he’s acting like he knows your body despite this being the first ever time the two of you have hooked up. How is he even doing that?

“Is that what you call me?” Steve comes up for air, flashing you a warning look before switching to your other breast, flicking your overly sensitive nipple with his tongue and making your breath hitch.

“Daddy,” you moan, finally letting go of any inhibitions you had left. You rut forward, rubbing your panty-covered crotch against his thigh. And oh, the denim of his jeans feels heavenly, and for a moment, you get a strong sense of dejavu that almost knocks you out of your lust-fuelled haze. Almost.

“That’s right, rub your little pussy against me. Don’t think I don’t notice what you’re doing. I noticed last time too.”

Huh? Last time?

“Fuck, didn’t expect you to fall into my lap again tonight, baby girl,” He kisses up your neck, holding his varsity jacket against you because it’s so big it’s slipping off. “Can’t believe you just showed up at my house looking like sex on legs with your cute little doe eyes in your tiny little dress. Did you really expect you were gonna walk out of here in one piece, baby?”

“I…uh…nngh!” You moan incoherently, hardly registering what he’s saying as his teeth clamp down on your neck, and he bites and sucks at the sensitive nape, making you squirm in his lap.

“You thought you could stumble into my party looking like a clueless little baby and not expect to end up in my bed?” He bounces you on his lap roughly, and you cry out in unexpected pleasure, the action sending thrills straight to your pussy. You rut against him in response, growing more desperate and delirious by the second.

“D-Didn’t know this was your house,” you pant, breathless from the way he’s kissing and fondling you, playing with your body like you’re just his toy and nothing more.

“Bullshit,” he breathes, “you wanted to see me again, didn’t you? After that night? You couldn’t forget, could you?”

“I–”

Your voice dies in your throat when Steve suddenly grabs your panties and yanks hard. They rip instantly, and you gape at the tattered lace in his hand. He brings it up to his nose, inhaling deeply.

“You smell like you want to get fucked,” he mutters, his voice deep and thick with lust, his eyes pitch black and intense as ever.

Sure enough, your panties are wet in his fist, and you can smell your own arousal on them even from a distance. Hell, you feel your wetness seeping down your bare thighs, staining his jeans and again you get a fleeting sense of dejavu, like this has happened before. And a hazy, dream-like memory flits through your mind, just for a moment before it’s gone, and you’re snapped back into the present.

Steve, without breaking eye contact for even a second, takes your panties into his mouth, sucking on them while you watch him with wide eyes. He grabs your hand, pressing it on his hard crotch. You squeak, it felt big and almost… alive under his jeans with how it was throbbing under your palm.

“So sweet, baby,” he breathes, “I missed out on tasting your little baby cunt last time. She tastes just as sweet as I imagined.”

Last time? You’ve barely wrapped your head around what he’s just said, but his face is so devastatingly handsome in that moment, so angelic and yet there’s a darkness in his eyes that cuts through it. Makes him look like an angel hell bent on playing his wicked game, and you’re more than happy to be his pawn.

“Steve–daddy, please. I need… I need–”

“Take daddy’s cock out,” he commands, his voice deep and guttural with raw lust. So gruff, so to the point, and it makes him even more attractive in your eyes. Powerful and in control. In charge of you. Using your body for his own pleasure. Fuck. You were so far gone down the haze of lust, there was really no coming back from here.

Steve takes your hand and pushes it past the waistband of his jeans, and presses it against his huge, hard cock. And oh fuck, it feels so fat and throbbing under your dainty palm, so big like it was capable of ripping you apart and you hadn’t even seen it yet. Just touching his hot, rock-hard flesh makes you rub your pussy against his thigh once more, pleasure jolting through your veins in anticipations.

You take it out, a low whimper escaping your throat because of how red and angry and big it looks. Oh fuck.

Steve pushes something into your hand, and it takes you a handful of seconds to register the lace of your black panties. Your pretty, tattered panties that he wraps around your hand before pressing it back on his fat dick.

“Jack me off, princess,” he orders you, his voice all velvety sweet and charming again, and it’s crazy how quickly he’s switched back to that now. “Show daddy what your pretty little hands can do.”

He hisses when you start pumping him, moving your hand up and down and the lace of your panties snagging against his smooth, rock hard cock. And he can’t keep his eyes off it, how your fingers don’t even wrap around half of his fat length.

“I-Is this okay, Stevie?”

SMACK.

“Daddy! Sorry, I meant daddy!” you cry out, your ass blooming with pain after his huge palm cracks down on it warningly.

“Mm, sweet sexy little baby girl,” Steve murmurs, watching intensely while you jack him off with your black lace panties in your hand, running them up and down his thick cock. “Jerking daddy off with your hot little panties that you wore just for me, right?”

“Didn’t-Didn’t know you were gonna be here!” You squeak out, regretting your decision to be truthful immediately when his hand cracks down on your bare thigh in another sharp slap.

“Say you wore your sexy little panties for me.” He bits down on your shoulder, tearing the skin with how hard he does it. As if he can’t help it, and you cry out in pain and yet you’re still feeling so much pleasure from rutting against him, chasing your own high while at the same time serving him and doing what he wants you to.

“Wore them for you,” you whine, bucking your hips with more frenzy now. The way he was speaking to you, oh it was getting you so fucking turned on and you couldn’t wrap your head around it. It was making your brain melt, only the submissive part of it reigning over every other rational side, and you pant when your clit catches against the denim of his jeans. “Daddy, please. F-Feels…feels…”

“I know, baby. I know,” he coos at you, voice dripping in condescension. And you feel so small, almost like a delicate little fairy in the domain of a literal God. That’s how powerful and big he looks to you in this very moment, like you’re at his mercy and you’d do anything for him. “You like jacking me off, baby?”

“Y-Yeah, I – I…”

You’re talking gibberish, and desperately chasing your own pleasure as you continue to rub against his leg. And yet you look down at his dick, how fat and thick it is, how it makes your hand look so tiny. How he’s got you jacking him off with your own lacy panties, how he’s watching it so intently and you can feel his cock hardening even more, if that’s even possible.

“You like my cock, princess? Like how big it is?”

“Yes!”

He grins devilishly, “You want it inside you, baby?”

Your jaw drops. He wouldn’t, would he? Oh, would you let him? Right now, your lust-crazed mind can’t find a single reason as to why not.

“I’d fuck you so good,” he whispers beguilingly into your ear, like he’s the devil himself persuading you to do something that you’re sure you shouldn’t be doing. But why not?! It wasn’t like you had a boyfriend! Ari had made that crystal clear! “Bounce your cute little pussy on my big daddy dick till you pass out on top of me. Would you like that?”

You whimper once more as his hand reaches down between your legs, and you gasp when he spreads your sopping folds. Now, you can feel the rough denim of his jeans even better, your engorged clit practically crying as it throbs uncontrollably. The rough pads of his fingers rub against it rhythmically, and you grind back up against his hand, humping it like you’re nothing more than a bitch in heat.

“Answer me,” he slaps your pussy hard, the squelching sound echoing across his bedroom, mingling with your scream of pleasure which only eggs him on. Again, he slaps you down there, and then another time. Till you’re quivering and crying and humping blindly against his palm, spreading your arousal all over him.

“I’d like it!” you cry out, a part of you ashamed with how easily you’ve given in to him.

“Mm, you know you’d have to be carried out of here after I’m through with you,” he says, manhandling you on his lap, dragging you back and forth on his thigh and creating the most delicious friction you’ve ever felt. “Not that I’d ever let you leave, baby girl. I’d keep you under my wing, in my bed because that’s where you belong.” He gives your ass another harsh slap that has you howling, “Say it. Tell daddy where you belong.”

“I-In your bed,” you manage to get out, feeling like you can hardly string a sentence together because all you can really focus on is the intense pleasure that’s building up inside you. “I…I belong in your bed, daddy, I don’t… I can’t… I…oh!”

Your release takes you by complete surprise. You squirt everywhere, on Steve’s cock, his shirt, and some even lands on his face. He smirks, swiping his finger over his cheek and sucking on it, his eyes glinting darkly. So dark and with such hunger, almost like he wants to eat you.

“Sweet little princess pussy,” he murmurs while you melt in his arms, unable to hold yourself up. Your legs are shaking like crazy, and he hugs you tightly against his chest, although one of his hands covers your own, ensuring it stays pumping his dick no matter what state you’re in. “She tastes so sweet, baby girl. How is she so sweet yet so naughty at the same time?”

Despite everything, his dirty talk has you feeling sparks down there again. Oh fuck.

“Steve, I–”

“Nobody told you to stop, princess,” he says darkly, bouncing his leg underneath you and causing you, in turn, to bounce on top of him. Your poor, sensitive pussy, still reeling from the remnants of your strong orgasm, “Get back to it. Hump your little pussy on daddy’s leg until I tell you to stop.”

Knowing you’re weak to the point of almost passing out, he’s got a firm hand clamped on your own, and he starts making you jack him off again. Rubbing your hand up and down his cock, your black lace panties rubbing alongside. The sight alone gets you going again, and once more you feel a spark of pleasure down there.

The party’s going on in full swing downstairs, heavy music blaring and yet all you can hear is the sound of both of you panting and moaning. His sweet voice uttering the dirtiest of things into your ear as you both masturbate each other. And it’s so raw, so primal, how you writhe on top of him like a goddamned animal, how he’s got the most carnal look in his eyes as if he’s a beast and you’re a lamb and he’s about to devour you.

He kisses you, and it’s so sloppy and animalistic, and you’re shocked at how desperately your lips work against his. How his hand wraps around your neck, how your fingers card through his hair. He spits into your mouth, biting and sucking at your lip till you taste the metallicity of your own blood. Or his. You’re not too sure.

The air is hot and thick with sex, and his dick twitches in your hand, so ready to blow and that’s when his fingers squeeze around your throat.

“You ever gonna walk into a party unattended ever again?” Steve grunts, pinching and bullying your throbbing clit like he owns it.

“N-No!”

“Damn right. Where do you belong, baby girl?”

“In-In your bed, daddy – oh-oh my!”

You squirt again, and this time, Steve follows suit. You watch, entranced, as he blows his load. Streaks of hot, white cum land on your hand, your black panties, your stomach, your face, everywhere. And you cum so hard, you can feel your pussy cramping with how intense the pleasure feels, waves of it radiating through your very being, egged on by Steve who keeps rocking you against him, muttering profanity under his breath as his thumb circles your poor, overwhelmed clit.

“Good girl,” he says after a few moments, looking like he’s barely broken a sweat as he pats your cheek. “Fuck, you’re such a good girl. I needed that.”

And you watch with wide, glassy, fucked out eyes as he takes your poor, tattered panties, the ones you’d used to jack him off, now drenched in his thick cum. He brings them to your mouth, prodding them against your lips.

“Open, baby,” he commands softly. And you do, and to your shock he places the panties in your mouth, a smirk on his face, “Suck.”

You suck Steve’s cum from your own panties, unable to get over how hot your poor, frazzled, cock-drunk mind is finding this debauchery to be. He tastes salty, manly, and you feel so submissive, so under his mercy as he watches you suck like a good, obedient little baby.

“That’s right, swallow it all,” he murmurs, “You like that, don’t you? You like being a little cumslut baby?”

 You whimper out a quiet “y-yeah” and he nods in approval, finally taking the lacy fabric out of your mouth, holding it tight in his fist. “I’d make you put ‘em back on but…” His voice trails off, and he chuckles as he throws your poor, torn panties somewhere on his bed behind him.

All you’re able to do is sit on his lap like a little doll. And he’s not even done with you, still fondling and touching your body, squeezing and hugging you close like you’re a doll and you can’t get enough. He’s particularly enamoured by his cum staining your stomach and chest, and he gathers some of it with a swipe of his finger.

“Does your baby cunt want some?” Steve asks devilishly, and you gasp, again just watching as he puts his hand between your legs again, this time opening your folds and spreading his cum into your poor, sensitive pussy. “Look at that, baby. Your greedy little cunt swallowed it right up.”

“Steve, I…”

“Shhh, baby girl. You don’t need to say anything.”

You’re thankful for that, still reeling from everything that’s just happened. Oh, you hadn’t expected all of this! Hell, you’d been forced to come to this party against your will, and now… Oh gosh, how had things come to this? How did you even feel about it? How–

The bedroom door is thrown open. You yelp, holding the big varsity jacket around you as you turn around to see a burly basketball player standing by the entrance. Steve growls at the intrusion, holding you closer against his chest. “Bucky, what the fuck?”

“Sorry for interrupting, Cap, but they’re all here. The St. Andrews’ assholes. Everett, Drysdale, Levinson… He’s looking for her, I think he knows she’s here.”

What?! ARI WAS HERE?! Oh, how dare he?!

Steve picks you up and places you on his bed before getting to his feet, muttering profanities under his breath. “He knows better than to fucking come here.”

Shakily, you try to get to your feet but to no avail. Your legs are still shaking. “M-Maybe, I should–”

“Stay right here.” Steve says, an air of finality in his tone that indicates he means it as an order with zero objections. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of him.”

THE END! guys!! I'm literally so insecure about posting this. Idk, I just feel like lately I've lost my mojo, like my writing has lost it's spark? But I pushed on because I wanted to get something out for you guys. And honestly?? BRO I DIDN'T KNOW WHERE TO END IT bc I wanted this story to continue bc WDYM ARI IS HERE?!?! I wanna see the confrontation lmfao!

But anyways, just to be crystal clear - THIS IS JUST AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE DRABBLE! It has nothing to do with the original wicked games story! That's why I wrote Steve here like how he is in chapter two of wicked games, and NOT like how he is in chapter 3 and 4! He's gone through a lot of character change and development in the original fic, but I didn't want to show that here! THAT IS IT'S OWN STORY HEHE. i know yall get it but i'm still reiterating lmao.

ANYWAYS. what did you guys think??? PLEASE PLEASE let me know! feedback genuinely would mean the world to me. I'm so fucking insecure about this fic it's like I've forgotten how to write!!

BUTTT. as usual here are some questions (you don't have to answer them, you can write whatever feedback you want but just in case hehe)

1 - HOW WAS THE SMUTTT??

2 - Do you think they would've gone all the way and had sex had they not been interrupted??

3 - How did Ari even know she was at this party??

4 - Opinions on our fav gal Wanda in this chapter?

ANYWAYS i love you guys, thanks for sticking by me and supporting my writing especially lately when there hasn't been many updates. LOVE YOU. pls lmk what you think!

[tsunodaradio]

pick your poison, babe (i'm poison either way) ⛐ 𝐋𝐍𝟒

♫ and i'll tell you one thing, honey: i can tell when somebody still wants me. come clean.

ꔮ starring: lando norris x dj!reader. ꔮ word count: 2.8k. ꔮ includes: fluff, romance. profanity, mention of alcohol consumption. unspecified monza race win, feelings realization/denial, lando has a crush. title from taylor swift's imgonnagetyouback. ꔮ commentary box: feels apt to dedicate my first post on this blog to the person who introduced me to F1, @norrisradio. papaya forever, baby. this feels like something that could be part of a bigger story, but for now! enjoy a down bad lando. <3 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Monza podium still feels like a fever dream. The kind of night he should be spending at an over-the-top afterparty, champagne showers and all, with people yelling his name like he hadn’t just spent two hours driving for his life. 

Instead of basking in the glow of P3 with the rest of the grid, Lando finds himself tugging the brim of a McLaren cap lower over his eyes, slipping past the bouncer of an underground rave.

He mumbles something unintelligible when the bouncer glances at him for a beat too long, and the guy doesn’t press. Maybe he doesn't care, or maybe he just thinks Lando’s another kid trying too hard to look mysterious. Either way, Lando is grateful. 

Lando hurries down the narrow hallway, his trainers squeaking against the concrete floor as the bass rattles through the venue like a pulse.He tells himself he’s here for the music. That he’s been desperate for a proper night out, a way to blow off steam without the whole world watching. 

But the truth is, he knows exactly who’s playing tonight. He’d seen the lineup on Instagram— your name sandwiched between two other local DJs— and something in him short-circuited.

You’ve met a couple of times, exchanged a handful of words over mixing decks at a mutual friend’s house party in Monaco. He picked up DJ-ing as a hobby a few years back, a way to kill time between races. 

He had become painfully aware of how much of an amateur he was the moment you’d started playing. You made it look effortless. 

He’d been hooked since.

Not in a crush way, obviously.

That would be ridiculous.

Lando shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie and follows the glow of LED lights deeper into the venue. The air smells like sweat and cheap liquor, the crowd a chaotic mess of limbs and blurry faces. People bump into him, and Lando mutters apologies swallowed up by the music.

He clocks you at the DJ booth almost immediately.

It’s embarrassing how quickly he finds you. How his eyes cut through the sea of bodies like they’ve been trained on you this whole time. 

You’re lit up in shades of red and blue, fingers dancing across the soundboard with a kind of swagger that makes Lando want to rip his cap off and run straight back to the paddock.

He tells himself he won’t get too close. That he’ll hang back, maybe grab a drink and nod along like he’s just here for the vibe. But then you glance up from the decks, and your gaze flickers through the crowd like you can sense him there. 

Lando panics, jerking to the side and bumping into someone holding a full cup of beer. “Mate,” the guy groans, shaking liquid off his arm, but Lando doesn’t even register it. 

His pulse is hammering, a bead of sweat rolling down the back of his neck. Must be the heat, he thinks to himself. 

He’s not nervous. 

He’s not.

Lando leans against a graffiti-splattered wall, heart in his throat as the bass thrums through his chest. He’ll stay for a bit. Maybe until your set ends. Maybe until you step off the stage, and he can casually, accidentally cross paths with you.

Just to say ‘hi’. 

Nothing else. 

The beat thrums through the floor, reverberating up Lando's spine like the aftershock of a race. Bodies move in synchronized chaos under the strobing lights, but he only sees you.

You, perched behind the DJ booth, fingers deftly turning dials and sliding faders. Your hair is damp with sweat, the glint of neon catching on your skin. You look like you belong here— like the music isn't just something you play, but something you breathe.

Lando tells himself he’s just appreciating the artistry, the technical skill. 

It has nothing to do with the way his chest tightens every time you flash a grin at the crowd.

His feet start moving before his brain can catch up. He snakes through the crowd, heart hammering harder than it did on the podium. He angles himself perfectly— or so he convinces himself— lingering just by the side of the stage. 

When you descend, your set concluded, your shoulder brushes his chest. Lando executes the most intentional accidental bump in history.

“Oh, shit— sorry!” 

He barely registers your words. The second your eyes meet his, he knows he’s completely screwed. 

Recognition blooms on your face like a firework. When you smile at him, it feels like the entire world tilts.

“Lando Norris?” you laugh, incredulous. “What are you doing here?”

He tugs his cap lower, hoping it might shield him from how devastatingly charming you are. “Just thought I’d check out the music scene,” he lies, his voice failing to land anywhere near casual.

You cock your head, suspicious but amused. “And you just so happened to end up at my set?”

Lando swallows, throat tight. “Just my luck,” he says, the words brittle on his tongue.

You laugh, the sound bright and sharp despite the dozens of other noises warring for his attention. The music hums through Lando’s body like a second heartbeat, but it dulls to a murmur the longer he stands next to you. 

He’s keenly aware of every movement you make. The way you tuck loose strands of hair behind your ear, the lingering adrenaline in your smile, the subtle shift of your weight as you rock on your heels.

“You here with anyone?” you ask, voice still pitched a little louder from your set. “Want anything? A drink?”

Lando shakes his head so quickly he almost gives himself whiplash. “No, I’m good. Thanks, though.” He licks his lips, nerves writhing in his chest like live wires. And because he’s a masochist, he asks, “Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Here with anyone.”

You tilt your head, brows lifting. For a second, Lando thinks he’s made a mistake, that you’re about to brush him off, but then you shake your head with an easy grin.

“Nope,” you say. “Just me.”

The knot in Lando’s stomach loosens, and the relief is instant— almost shameful in how palpable it is. He feels a little steadier now, a little more like himself. The familiar tinge of confidence edges its way back into his voice.

“Well,” he starts, just on the right side of teasing, “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything.”

Your gaze lingers on him, contemplating. Lando swears his pulse stutters.

After a beat, you shrug. “Nowhere better to be.”

A small, smug smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but he bites it back. “Guess that makes two of us,” he says, just loud enough for you to hear. 

The bass thumps back to life, rippling through the crowd like a living thing, and you tilt your head at Lando, eyes glinting with mischief.

“Do pretty little drivers like you even know how to rave?” you ask, voice raised over the music.

Lando scoffs, the sound drowned out by the beat. He lifts his chin, his usual cocky edge peeking through. “Do pretty little DJs like you know how to drive?” 

You laugh; Lando thinks he could live off the sound. Before he knows it, you’re tugging him back into the crowd, bodies pressing in on either side as the music surges. The neon lights flicker across your skin, and Lando, without really meaning to (or maybe meaning to a little too much), lets the crowd shift him closer to you. Shoulder brushing shoulder, arm to arm, fingertips grazing as you both move to the rhythm.

It’s a flimsy excuse to touch you, and he’s pathetically grateful for it.

You notice the way his eyes flicker to the occasional flash of a camera, the way he subtly angles his face down to keep the shadow of his cap in place. You lean in, close enough that your lips nearly graze the shell of his ear. Instinctively, he tilts his head down so you can reach him without straining too much. 

“Tell me, Norris,” you tease, your voice a low hum that curls through his chest, “are you still racing?” 

“What?” he sputters out with a laugh. 

“Answer the question,” you insist, unable to hold back your own laughs. “Are you racing away from something? Racing towards something?” 

Lando knows the answer. That doesn’t make things any easier. And so he does what he does best— play it off, be incorrigible. “Pardon?” he asks, feigning the hardness of hearing. “You have to speak up!” 

You roll your eyes, the expression making you look a lot cuter than Lando cares to admit. “Nevermind,” you holler, pulling away. 

The pang of loss he feels is incomparable to his relief. For the next hour or so, that’s how he dodges your more invasive queries. 

“Why are you really here, Norris?” you ask at one point, voice raised to cut through the noise. 

Lando cups a hand around his ear and squints at you like he’s struggling to understand. “Sorry, what did you say?”

You shake your head but try again. “Why are you here?”

“Did you just ask if I’ve got hair in my ear?!”

You smack his shoulder, but he only grins wider, reveling in the way your touch lingers just a little longer than necessary. “You’re impossible,” you huff, but your smile softens the words.

A beat passes, and then you add, quieter, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Lando’s chest tightens. For a second, he forgets how to breathe. He recovers fast, though, leaning closer until his forehead nearly bumps yours. “Yeah,” he says, voice low but clear despite the music. “That’s what I thought you said.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, catching him out. “So you can hear me!”

He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, feeling very much like he won for a second time that night. 

The night wears on. Lando could keep going, really, but then your hand grazes his wrist. A fleeting touch before you beckon him with a tilt of your head. Lando follows without a word, the warmth of your fingers lingering on his skin like a brand.

He keeps his head down, tugging his cap lower as you weave through the venue. He glances around often, wary eyes flitting to clusters of people, to the occasional glint of a camera lens reflecting the strobes.

“I promise you’re not going to have dating rumors come tomorrow,” you say, catching his unease. Your voice is low, teasing, but there’s a sincerity beneath it that makes his chest ache.

“Promise?” he asks, trying to match your tone, but his voice wavers.

You smile, throwing a casual look over your shoulder. “Swear on it.”

Lando doesn’t know how you manage to navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the venue, weaving through bodies and shadowy hallways with practiced ease. You take him through a side door and up a flight of stairs, the clatter of your footsteps echoing in the narrow space.

At the top, you push open another door. Suddenly, you’re outside. The rooftop stretches out before you, bathed in the glow of the distant city lights. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of night-blooming flowers and lingering smoke. From up here, the music is a distant hum, the chaos below reduced to a quiet murmur.

You walk over to the edge, resting your elbows on the ledge. “Better?” you ask, looking at him out of the corner of your eye.

Lando exhales all the tension in his body before settling next to you. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough. “Better.”

The view is breathtaking. Monza sprawls out beneath you, a patchwork of golden lights against the darkened landscape. Lando watches you tip your head back to look at the sky, the faint sheen of sweat on your skin catching the glow from the streetlights. 

You’re radiant. 

It’s not fair. 

“Is this your usual post-set ritual?” he asks, leaning his forearms on the ledge.

“Kinda,” you answer vaguely. “Helps me clear my head.” 

Lando hums in agreement, though his head feels anything but clear. His heart is still pounding— not from the dancing, not from the adrenaline of sneaking around, but from being this close to you.

You half-turn to face him, your shoulder brushing against his. “So,” you start, playful but quiet. “Are you finally going to tell me why you’re really here?”

“Ah.” Lando laughs at your attempt to double down. “So that’s what this is. A trap.” 

You arch a brow. “I mean, it’s a fair question. Podium finisher skips team dinner to go rave in Monza?”

Lando squints at you, a slow grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Wait,” he starts slowly, “you knew I podiumed?”

“Everyone knows,” you deflect, looking back out over the city lights.

He inches closer, eyes gleaming. “You checked.”

You don’t even hesitate, barreling on where Lando might’ve sidetracked. “Of course I did,” you say. “I wanted to know if you’d win.”

Lando blinks, caught completely off guard. The rush of exhilaration that barrels through him is almost disorienting. “You were rooting for me?”

“You act like that’s weird.” You glance at him again, the corner of your mouth twitching upward. “I may not know much about racing, but I know enough to hope you’d end up on top.”

Lando’s throat bobs with a hard swallow. He doesn’t know what to do with that, doesn’t know how to process the fact that you— the person who makes him feel like he’s spinning out even when he’s on solid ground— had been watching, keeping tabs.

He clears his throat, feigning nonchalance. “I guess I had to come celebrate with my number one fan, then.”

You snort. “I never said I was your number one fan.”

He clutches his chest like you’ve physically wounded him. “Ouch. Brutal.”

You laugh, the sound echoing into the night, and Lando fears it’s becoming his new favorite noise. Much better than the squeal of tires, the roar of crowds, the electronic dance music that’d been spun downstairs. 

“So?” you prompt, turning to face him fully. “Why are you here, Mr. P3?”

He tilts his head, mouth curling up in a sly smile. “What was that?”

Your eyes narrow. “Don’t start.”

“Couldn’t hear you,” he quips, cupping a hand to his ear. “Something about my heart?”

You push off the railing. “I swear, Norris—”

"Okay, okay!" He laughs, hands raised in surrender.

The second your expression softens, though, he falters. 

The truth sticks to the roof of his mouth like honey, too sweet and too heavy to spit out. He glances down, scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the concrete. “I just… wanted to unwind. Long weekend. And…” 

Fuck it. Lando swallows. Scratches the back of his neck. “Maybe I wanted to see you play.”

The words slip out like he’s admitting a felony. He doesn’t dare look at you, afraid of what he might find in your face. Amusement, pity, or worse— understanding. Because you’re smart enough to figure it out, figure him out. Because you probably already know what he’s danced around this entire evening.

He risks a glance, and his heart stutters.

You’re smiling.

Not in a way that mocks or patronizes, but something softer. Something that knots him up inside.

“Maybe?” you echo, tilting your head.

Lando exhales, rubbing a hand over his face like he can physically scrub the embarrassment away. He takes a careful step closer, shrugging like the confession doesn’t carry the weight of the world.

“Okay, probably,” he relents. “But, like, only a little.”

You hum, pretending to think it over, and Lando swears his heart is trying to punch a hole through his chest.

“I can live with that,” you say after a moment. 

It’s not much. It’s not a denial, not an acceptance, but it’s not like Lando is asking for anything, either. 

He could, he realizes. Ask what you have planned after this, ask if you’d like to chase each other through Monza’s streets like one of those old romantic comedies his mum would make him sit through. 

Instead, he only manages a soft, almost breathless, “Yeah?” 

The hope in his tone is a dangerous, treacherous thing. It’s almost as damning as the way he shifts just a little bit closer to you, the two of you leaning back against the railing. 

Lando isn’t going to kiss you tonight. He knows that much. 

Not tonight, but maybe—

“Yeah.” Your voice sounds just like his. Tender, hopeful. A whisper of I don’t mind seeing you, a promise of next time. Wherever and whenever that might be.  

Your shoulders press against each other. 

Neither of you pull away. ⛐

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭“Smile for the Camera!” - Suguru Geto

Synopsis: one night really does change all - where you meet a hefty porn director Suguru and in the process of misunderstandings, you end up in his office, in the cutest maid suit.

— word count: 4.5k (i am sorry i just dk how to stop and how to start)

— a/n: this had been in my wip for so long lmao - it feels a little rushed to me but i'm also a bit rusty since it's been a while so yes lol @indiewritesxoxo you'd asked for a tag so😭hope you do like

— warnings: MDNI!!Fem Reader!! slightly manipulative! suguru, i tried to make him as gentle as i could; dumbification(?); camera; soft!dom geto; very botched representation of the porn industry; i have nothing against porn actors; masturbation; dressing up; Suguru is bisexual here, so is Satoru; reader has fem clothing; leashes and stuff; humiliation; praise kink: oral (fem rec)

The two men sat pretty and sprawled, Suguru Geto, head director of the freefuckforall website, along with Satoru Gojo, the website's longest running and most loyal actor.

“The industry is getting boring,” Satoru rolled his head, eyes closed, words directed towards his best friend who sat across from him on the couch.

Suguru only smirked, eyes stuck and watching every moving slide with lucrative detail - “I’ve been telling you, start filming sex with men, you already have it - just film it, more money, more opportunity,”

Satoru only giggled to himself - the boyish nature somehow suiting his towering self, "you know i have a different sort of fanbase - full of perverts who like seeing me fill up a cunt,"

He popped in his mouth the last of his grapes, eyes hazy as he looked at Suguru, “besides, what for? To fulfill your wretched fantasies? You already act as half a cuck anyways,” 

Suguru snorted along, shutting his laptop then and getting up to stretch, “a. develop a new fanbase then, those who'd like watching you get your ass stuffed, b. someone has to edit and direct, no? Lest you want people to see all the clips where you lie all fucked out - which would fall in common with your new style if you try it,”

The story was so fresh in both their heads - that one time Satoru had been reduced from his cocky self to a pleading and begging mess as the girl rode him - it took a lot of convincing (read: sex and treats) from Satoru before Suguru agreed to keep his ego intact.

Satoru just pouted, reaching over to grab Suguru’s share of snacks - having finished his own, “that was one time - and that girl was such an amateur, just started going at it suddenly,” 

“And the might Satoru, the amazing porn star couldn’t take it,” Suguru teased, his voice a low drawl, “but eh, it’s true, i don’t have fun filming the same shit over and over myself - it’s all repetitive,”

“Any new projects then?” Satoru asked, popping a grape in his mouth, Suguru grinned and shook his head - “not for you, but...I’ve got this new chick, she’s cute,” 

Satory raised a brow now, “cute like…date cute or cute like new fuck and more bucks?”

“Both,” Suguru grinned, “met her last night, at a party - seemed a little slow at first, she was awfully innocent,” he laughed, and Satoru did too.

“So the corruption kind huh,” 

They laughed again.

“I called her for a meeting today, said she had a dream for modelling, wanted a breakthrough in the industry - well, not this industry but..yeah,”

Satoru smirked, “you lied? How’d ya’ get her to agree?”

But Satoru knew all too well how Suguru got girls to agree, especially your kind - a few smiles, a few drinks, a little back story about himself and a little attention sprinkled, as gentle as he could be, Satoru really couldn’t remember any girl who had denied him a second date.

“Didn’t lie or nothin’...just told her i’m a director, we shoot a bit…unorthodox but it is what it is and makes good money, she couldn’t see an issue there,” he laughed.

Satoru did too - it wasn’t a lie, nor the truth.

“When’s she coming?”

Suguru checked his watch, smirked, “15 minutes, better get going then,” he grabbed his phone and laptop, ready to reach his office.

“And when would she really come?” Satoru egged on, with a grin. “Well they usually get wet by the time the camera begins anyway so…” Suguru grinned as he stepped out of the lounge and towards his office, where you were already seated.

-

The buzz felt alive, it made him feel alive.

Another wink to some girl he’d been gazing at - another sleazy line whispered in the ear of a boy who’d been grinding against him all night, none would accompany him to his mansion, he revelled in that itself.

Suguru focused on a waving hand - Shoko’s, he smiled softly at her, striding over to her, “yes ma’am?” he grinned, watching her down her drink.

“Wanna meet someone?” she said simply - a little flicker of a smile on her face. “Like a date?” he asked, before following her regardless, he knew better than to question.

And that’s where he saw you, a sight, he deemed you instantly.

A mini skirt you’d on, and a little top - just a tease - clearly out of your zone as you sipped on your-whatever-drink, eyes instead, drinking into the crowd, obviously searching for Shoko.

“Her?” Suguru asked, leaning down to Shoko’s ear, “sure?” 

A hint of worry seeped into his voice - girls like you often proved to be tough to work with, a little silly, always nervous around his work space and huge cry-babies.

Shoko grinned in response - she’d been tasked weeks ago to find Suguru a new girl for his pieces, a new face, some new energy to spice things up.

What he hadn’t expected was that she’d find someone so…inexperienced with his workspace, clearly.

Well, of course Suguru could tell who was and wasn’t - the director in him was keen, very keen — he saw money shots before one could even consider one.

And just like that, introduced to Suguru Geto you were, a nervous smile, yours and a smirk, his.

-

One drink, three and then a total of five, the bartender merely glanced up as he passed suguru’s bill to him, you sat beside him, all giggly now.

“How much do i…?” you slurred - a grin on your face, Suguru chuckled, “don’t worry darlin’ - got ya’ covered,”

You smiled wide at that, “you’re so nice - at first i was scared of you,” you confessed innocently, promptly, making his grin almost wolfish now.

“Tell me,” he nudged, hand leading you through the crowd so gently, to a secluded spot in the club, to the couch, “what did you think, hm?” 

His voice was smooth, his touch smoother - comforting and yet, you’d felt on the edge the entire night.

And yet, Suguru had nothing but sweet all night, not a single touch that went wrong, not a single gaze that was lifted wrong - just a long ear offered as you spoke and spoke, about work and life, obviously you'd needed this little escape.

Shoko has been gone ever since she introduced you to this gentleman.

“I thought…I thought…” you slowly had your eyes meet his, a flicker of confusion in them now, “i’m still thinking, what do you…do?” you asked - rightfully so - even if you did jump the conversation all too sudden for his taste.

Something he'd been avoiding all night, respite the true intentions of this meeting.

However, You’d bared your days and nights already - a huge mouth that you had, all under the drink of course, otherwise, the sober you was biting your lip beside him so hard that he was afraid you’d bleed.

And all you’d learned about him was that he was named Suguru Geto, and his friend was Shoko, all details shared by Shoko.

Suguru smiled, considering how much to share, “I’m a director,” he mused, watching your eyes widen, “yeah? I always wanted to become a model,” your tone was almost excited,  “what kinda’ director?” you asked next, he shrugged casually.

“Here and there, ya’know?”

You shook your head in a no, he smiled softly and slowly helped you out of the club, it was getting late anyways.

-

You both stood outside, his car was right there in the parking.

“Rather have me drive you home doll? Or do I get you an uber? Whatever makes you feel better but…” his words trailed off as your fingers tugged at him partially from the cold and partially from the many people lined outside the club, “...i think it’s better i drop you, yeah?”

And so, that’s what he did - civic duty? Maybe; Did he find you adorable and wanted to hear you talk more? Definitely.

As you climbed in his car, he hummed - mind unsure but he didn't want to let the shtick drop just yet, “you asked what kinda’ director, yeah?”

You nodded in your seat, as he fixed your seat belt, hands brushing against your plush skin, you licked your lips at the contact, he did too.

“Well, it is a bit…unorthodox,” he said, lips pursed, debating if it was okay - if he wanted to drag you in, “how desperate are you, to be in the industry doll?”

He asked softly, as the car revved, somehow you felt your cheeks heating up, “uhm…it’s like…a dream, i - well, not very ambitious but…if a chance,” you stammered out, he couldn’t help but chuckle, deepening the warmth you felt.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said as he nodded to the directions you gave him for your house, “why don’t you drop by at my office tomorrow hm? You can come, see the work and all, and if you are interested, why not? Shoko will have you filled in with the details, yeah?”

You could only nod, after all, this gentleman wouldn’t be an issue, right?

-

A deep breath inhaled, a lot of regret exhaled.

You flinched every time you heard footsteps approaching, you recoiled every time a moan sounded out from one of the adjacent rooms.

You were officially in a porn-making-building-or-whatever-those-are, wearing the shortest, sluttiest outfit you ever had on - the little maid suit that Shoko had handed you right as you left the house.

“Don’t peek, it’s a surprise,” she’d reminded, and you just complied - like an idiot.

Because now, seated in this dingy office that you were, posters of porn-actresses and actors, you were sure you’d seen some of them a couple of times yourself - until, your eyes panned to the logo of the website in the corner of one of them.

Officially in the office of the biggest porn website - all because a stranger asked you to.

The previous night was fresh in your eyes - well, not really, but the regret was.

What were you even thinking? Letting a random man drive you? Coming to meet him? Talking to him about your work and life?

Perhaps, nothing.

What were you thinking when the said man actually walked into his office? With his busy footsteps and a gaze that meant business now, last night you’d thought everything else - with his charming face and laptop which would essentially also hold your file in a while?

Nothing, you really couldn’t fathom a single thought to be exact.

“Ms….l/n, is it?” he read from his sheet - pretense - yours was the only appointment he’d scheduled for that day, cancelling all others. He didn’t bother eyeing you properly, but he knew well, about how enticing you did look.

He smiled, the same smile, more twisted now, “why hello, nice seeing your pretty self again,” he said with a grin, you could only nod.

You let a small silence etch between the two of you, unacceptable, Suguru opened his laptop promptly.

“How was the ride over? All comfortable? My…” he said in almost disdain, “you haven’t even been offered water? How long have you been-”

“-why didn’t you tell me it is all this?”

The disgust was so evident in your voice, he almost felt bad.

Almost.

He hummed, “I did mention it is unorthodox…”

“How dare you assume i’m into all this - what the fuck?” you muttered, ashamed by just entertaining the thought of you being a pornstar.

“Assume what? That you would want to work in the porn industry?” he smirked, all business now, “you really can’t tell with people and then,” he rolled the cuffs of his shirt’s sleeves now, “the innocent ones like you are often the biggest whores,”

He seemed amused, you seemed tense.

You huffed, “fucking whatever - i don’t…i’m not the kind of girl… and - and this dress? Goodness it is so…” a scowl on your face finished the rest.

Suguru couldn’t blame you.

Geto shrugged, a hand raised, gesturing to the door, “very well then, you can always walk out, i understand, it’s not everyone’s cup of tea…” 

All bluff, the confidence, the flair, all bluff - he wanted you, ever since last night.

You got up, right on cue, all bluff as well, you wanted to play the gamble.

“It’s a shame…” Suguru mumbled, “shame indeed,” you did too.

His eyes narrowed as you turned, eyes dipping then to take an appreciative glance at your ass, “tell you what?” He took a deep breath.

It felt desperate, it was.

“Let me take your profiles, yeah? You’ll get it for free - by a professional of course, just compensation for all the trouble,” he shot you a smile, you gulped.

“I…i’m not sure…it was - last night, just a lot of babbling, i don’t think i’m cut for…you know? And then this outfit also…”

You weren’t sure how a smile appeared on your lips so easily when you’d been pissed the moment you realised what he’d called you for, but it did.

He shrugged again, “just some pictures doll - and who doesn’t like dressing up, yeah? I’ve got plenty more for you to choose from,” he licked his lips, eyes boring into you, you could only nod.

-

“Tilt your pretty face a little to the right, please,” you gulped, still in that maid outfit - which was now being used to its full potential, the top was half open, you were on a steel chair that felt so cold against your flushed skin, and sitting right under the spotlight - while the director sat behind his camera, not rolling, nothing, just making assessments now.

Your profiles had been done half an hour ago, the photos had been sent too, it was a little job for Suguru, you were so compliant after all, following every instruction to the dot.

Which is why it had been harder for him to resist this.

After the pictures you were served drinks again, all hefty smiles and silly conversations - about porn of course. He told you everything, how he’d shot this shot, how long the process goes, how sweet you look, and how cute you are.

“Why don’t you just show me off once again, yeah? Just…so I can see, take inspiration?”

And ever the generous that you were, ever the charming as he was, somehow, you once again found yourself at a loss for no.

Which was how you’d ended up finally, in this position.

“Press your breasts together please…i want to…ah yes,” he murmured as you did what he asked for, albeit with a gulp, it felt so weird.

In front of a camera, his gaze on your every move, and he sounded so professional, dressed well too. And then there was you, just a built in thong with that dress, the top had a sheer torso, your side boob seemed so tantalising to him.

Your nipples had hardened just as well, it was just so cute, matched with your nervousness.

-

Your top lay now open - still on, after all Suguru wouldn’t ask you to do anything out of your comfort zone, right? On the monitor suguru only watched you fidget with your fingers on your thighs, smoothening the hem of the short dress as if it would help - provide some modesty.

Top open, thighs spread - a sheen of sweat from the small humid room and face hotter than ever - hair messy and eyes now dazed, Suguru had halted with his instructions for the moment, and you -? 

You continued staring at his fingers, thoughts ran rogue - you wondered if he’d ever been on camera himself, if he’d used those skilled hands for something other than recording, if he was anything close to as long and thick as his fingers - you looked away.

shameless.

The room went quieter then, just a slight buzz, Suguru stared at his screen with eyes furrowed, “hm..i don’t know, it’s not working out very well,” he said - tone regretful, your face jocked to the side. “What? …why?” 

Suguru wanted to coo at your simplicity - so bothered, he then got up, “you were correct, it’s not for girls like you,”

Such an insult it seemed, an unknowing pout fell on your lips, you got up too, your shorter frame moving slowly towards Suguru, the skirt was so short and given the humidity, it clung to your curves perfectly now - “can i…” you licked your lips, see? 

You wanted to ask that simply but refrained, too shy of his disappointment and too prude to watch yourself.

And thus the secret of the fact that Suguru was recording nothing of you displaying yourself so shamelessly remained all but a secret.

“I’ll…oh, i’ll do whatever you ask,” you ended up muttering - exactly how he wanted to have you.

“You can’t…” he just muttered, not even trying anymore, just a small smirk as he stared at you - all aware of that raging boner in his pants, hidden only because of the dark, all aware that just a glance down would show your pretty tits, all so aware.

“I can,” you said determined this time, “it’s only for your inspiration…right? And if they do come out good…it might help somewhere,” you licked your lips, now he touched you, your cheek - his hands felt warm, sweaty.

Oh but it would help somewhere indeed.

“You sure doll? Wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable,”

It felt patronizing, the smile - the eyes, he knew you  wouldn’t say no, he knew exactly how he’d sprawl you.

“So well…” he sighed deeply and then looked you up and down, “take the blouse off actually, please, go in back to the seat,” he spoke smoothly.

And you did just that.

You sat there - breasts, soft peaks - your gasps softer still, all exposed to his skillful eyes, “atta girl,” he murmured, smiling now - finally.

“Play with yourself - don’t be shy okay? Forget i’m here…”

You licked your lips…play…?

If you’d have told Shoko yesterday that you would be found half naked in the office of a man you’d found about 12 hours ago, she’d laugh in your face.

And so you began, hands cupping your tits, fingers sinking into the pliant flesh, they felt so full now - your face scrunched in focus as you tried to make it appear as sexy as possible.

“Perfect, jus’ like that…” suguru encouraged, a gulp of his own drawn - the camera finally began shooting, he couldn’t help himself after all.

your hands  - all over the swell of your breasts, slender fingers kneading and squeezing the flesh, you massaged them, slowly drawing circles around your nipples. 

“Pinch them,” he ushered from front of you, moving the camera closer now, moving towards you - he could tell with your hesitation, you were still nervous.

Your eyes remained stuck on him, so wide as he moved closer to capture your hardened nipples - “so cute,” he mumbled as you flicked them, “you play with your tits often doll?”

“N–no i…well,” you looked away shyly - only so long, Suguru had his fingers grip your jaw quickly, forcing you to look into the camera.

“Rule no. 1: always face the camera,” you nodded, he patted your cheek with a slight smirk, “go on, maybe imagine me…mm’hmm, imagine i was squeeziin’ those pretty tits, yes…”

He smiled - almost proud as you finally closed your eyes, a soft inhale as your back arched, chest obscenely jutting out - same ministrations, much hotter.

And just when you moaned - he paused the recording, “ok enough of this, get up.”

Swift you moved - feeling the shyness coat you again, he himself placed the camera down momentarily - jogging back to his table to grab you a new fabric, bright pink - shorter, skimpier.

“Wear this now, like it better than the last one?” it was small playboy bunny suit, the little bunny ears gave it away - and the tail of course.

“If it is okay by you, of course…you’re already doing so good,” he drawled and then without a word - his own hands latched t your boobs, pressing them softly - feeling them, “mmhmm, so pretty,” you gasped as he pinched your left nipple.

He continued fondling your boobs - as you stumbled a little, his practiced hand held you tight as he switched between your two boobs perfectly - teasing just so perfectly.

And when he did pull away, his fingers had you so sore - you could practically beg.

“Ready to change?” he added with a small smile - chuckling to himself as your eyes cast him a desperate look - exactly as they all did.

He handed you the costume, eyeing you expectantly, and you looked around - for the changing room.

“Uh…here?” your voice was squeakier than you’d have preferred, he laughed, “well don’t be silly,” he booped your nose then, “it’s a small office for me - of course, no changing room.”

So whatever else remained of your little shame, you pulled that down just as swiftly as you pulled the maid-skirt off, aware of just how Suguru stared.

And he did so with utmost detail, he took not of just how your slick clung to the gusset of the built in panties - of how cute you looked, trying to hide yourself, of pretty your entire body was, of how stiff his pants felt and of how he wanted to absolutely eat you up from how adorable you looked.

And he made a mental note of definitely not posting that recording anywhere.

The bodice of the suit was flattering to say the least - the pesky heart cut out for the breasts barely contained anything, and Suguru made you give him a twirl too, only to watch the little tail bounce on the curve of your ass.

“Now…i want you to get on the floor, all okay?” he asked - not caring any longer, “get down and spread your legs f’me,”

The camera was up once again, capturing every detail, the shiny suit and the way you sprawled out.

“I want you to touch yourself - forget that i’m here or we’re recording, okay? Play with that lil’ cunt for me - please?” he added the please with a little pout - as if it would solve the issue at hand.

“T- touch myself?” you echoed, eyeing him now, “isn’t that…oh it’s…”

“Too much? I get it,” suguru was quick to file in - so easy to make you think otherwise, “as i said…you’re not cut for this,”

You sighed - not wanting to prove him right and closed your eyes, “uh…okay but…fuck, okay,” you caved in, suguru wanted to kiss you deeply to comfort you instantly, to tell you that he would be the only one who got to fuck his fist while watching this recording.

But he didn’t, at the moment at least.

Thus you began again, this time your fingers on your clothed sex, rubbing slow - deliberate circles, eyes closed and mind focusing, the camera was set, Suguru simply sat aside and rubbed his own bulge, muttering little praises for you every minute.

Five minutes in and the shiny pink fabric of the bunny suit had ridden up, exposing a tantalizing glimpse of your inner thighs. Suguru felt his mouth go dry at the sight, his heart pounding in his chest.

"That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "Now, I want you to start rubbing yourself faster through the fabric. Slowly, teasingly. Pretend it's my hand touching you, stroking you, making you feel good."

It was a stretch, using his name to get you off - but he knew it wouldn’t fail, never did.

Suguru watched as your hand moved between your legs repeatedly, fingers brushing faster over the front of the bunny suit. He could see the fabric beginning to dampen, to darken as your arousal grew. The sight made his cock throb, straining against the confines of his pants.

"That's my good girl," he praised, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Keep rubbing yourself, doll. Imagine it's my fingers teasing your pussy, my thumb circling your clit. I want to see you get yourself nice and wet for me."

He watched, enraptured as the camera continued recording, as your fingers moved more deliberately now, rubbing yourself more firmly through the damp fabric. 

Your breathing grew heavier, chest rising and falling more rapidly as you lost yourself in the sensation.

"Fuck, you look so sexy like that," Suguru growled, his own hand moving faster to palm his aching cock through his pants. "Don't stop, baby. Keep touching yourself, keep teasing yourself for me. I want to see you get so fucking wet, so ready for me."

Suguru watched, transfixed, as your fingers moved, your hips beginning to rock against your  own touch. 

You dared not to look into the camera - or at suguru, “go on, get yourself to cum for me doll,” he called out - eyeing the way your fingers moved more frantically - eyeing the way your breath was more ragged.

But as the minutes ticked by, Suguru began to sense something was off. 

Your touches - more frantic; breathing - more labored,and  yet the telltale signs of an impending orgasm were nowhere to be seen. Your cheeks were flush with exertion and frustration, brows furrowed as you gritted your teeth.

And just like that, Suguru's patience began to wear thin. 

He had expected you to pick up easily - but obviously, your shyness just got the better of you.

Because here you were, struggling, failing to deliver the intense, authentic performance he craved. Irritation flashed in his purple eyes as he watched you, his grip tightening on the camera mic.

"Fuck, y/n," he called, his voice a low, annoyed rumble. "What's taking so long? You should be done by now doll, not just... come on- don’t toy with yourself halfheartedly."

He watched as you tried to pick up the pace, her fingers moving at a frenzied speed, the wet spot on your bunny suit growing larger, darker. But still, no release came. Suguru clenched his jaw, his cock twitching - begging to be the help you desperately craved.

"Dammit, you're not trying hard enough," he snapped, his patience finally snapping. 

With a harsh curse, Suguru ripped off his headphones and stormed out from behind the camera. He marched over to where you sat, panting and flushed, her fingers still moving weakly between her thighs.

"Enough," he barked, grabbing your wrist and yanking your hand away. "Get your fingers out of there. I'm going to show you how it's done- can’t manage nothing without me, huh?"

You looked up at him, her eyes wide with surprise and a flicker of shame grappling back at you -  But there was also a glimmer of excitement, of anticipation, at the thought of Suguru finally taking control.

And as promised Suguru didn't waste any time. He dropped to his knees in front of you, pushing your legs further apart, exposing the soaked crotch of the bunny suit to his hungry gaze. Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed his mouth against the damp fabric, his tongue laving over your clothed slit.

"Ohhh!" you gasped out loud, your back arching off the floor at the sudden, intense sensation - fingers moving to grip his hair.

Suguru was quick still, to move the crotch of your suit aside - tongue lapping on your slick folds.

Suguru groaned against her, “shit, been thinkin’ bout’ this cunt since last night,” the vibrations of his voice did none but to add to the incredible stimulation. He could taste your arousal through the thin   drenched fabric anyways, but what fun would that be ? he could smell the heady scent of your desire. It spurred him on, making him lick and suck at your clit harder, more insistently.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he muttered, his words muffled against her pussy. "I bet you're just aching to come, aren't you, baby? Desperate for release? See…told ya’ you’re perfect for this,"

He punctuated his words with a hard suck on your clit, making you cry out, your fingers scrabbling for purchase on the smooth studio floor. Suguru could feel your thighs beginning to tremble, your hips starting to buck against his mouth as he ate you out with wild abandon.

"That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice a low, approving growl. "Let go. Come for me. I want to feel you fucking explode in my mouth. Want you on record as you lose yourself."

He sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. 

At the same time, he pushed a finger under the crotch of the bunny suit, rubbing your bare, slick folds, stroking your inner walls.

"Ahhh! Oh god, Suguru!" you choked, your voice echoing off the studio walls. Your body went rigid, muscles locking up as the intense pleasure crested over you. 

Suguru groaned in satisfaction, feeling your juices gushing against his finger, soaking the bunny suit even more. He lapped at you greedily, not letting a single drop of your juices go to waste.

For a minute, neither spoke - as he allowed you to catch your breath - “well, that would make…one hell of a video,” he finally muttered, picking you up along side him, “you okay doll?” he confirmed once, smiling when you nodded.

He sat you down on his chair now - behind the camera as he paused the recording again, “i won’t post it, i just…well, it’s shady but you did say you …i mean,”

You hadn’t known him long - but it felt cute to see him fumble, “it’s okay - i…i liked it,” you said shyly and he grinned - “what will you do with it then?” you asked quietly as he handed you water.

“later use of course…” he chuckled, “you want a copy?” he laughed again when you nodded.

“Say…ready for round two…without that badboy?” he referred to his camera - “with handcuffs and chains maybe?”

You could only giggle at his suggestive eye brow raise.

All of this work is original and entirely my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

Likes and Reblogs highly appreciated!

[macapunoz]

UNREQUITED CLUB ; choi seungcheol

summary it’s not good to resort to breaking hearts if you’re afraid to admit you’re still in love with someone else.

starring seungcheol x f! reader

genre angst，fluff (i might be lying)，unrequited love，mutual pining at some point (?)，uni au，reader does fashion designing

contains reader is kinda toxic，same thing with coups (they’re just both not good ppl)，breakups and leading ppl on，based on a true story。。。 sorry 97z

word count 6k ( thankyu sophi for proofreading ) | playlist bad religion by frank ocean, japanese denim by daniel caesar, secret door by arctic monkeys, all because i liked a boy by sabrina carpenter, fluorescent adolescent by arctic monkeys, green by 12bh, toxic till the end by rosé, first love by sondia

from rhin，this was originally gonna be a smau oneshot but i need to clear my penalties😭 (only 2k words left🗣️) anyways this fic is dedicated to my friend who doesnt have blr but her bias is scoups and she hates the dude cheol is based on😹😊🫰

You always thought you could do well with love. As a kid, you dreamed of marrying a prince after watching way too many princess movies. As you got older—going into middle school—your standards changed once you discovered a few dramas. A lot of them happened to have male lead CEOs, so you wanted a hot, rich man instead.

Eventually, those fantasies died down once you ended middle school. The boys you’ve encountered made you lower your standards and began to think that all boys were full of shit. But you figured you’d find better when you’re an adult. Sure, you’ve found at least some guys cute, but you knew way too much about them to never find yourself together with them.

It was only then that the first year of high school changed something in you. You knew a few older kids since you were family friends with them, and some of them had friends that would tag along. One of those friends happened to be Seungcheol. He was in tenth grade when you met him—just a year older than you. Always smiling and always said kind words.

From there, you’ve been crushing on him. You always thought he was different from all the other boys you’ve liked before. But you figured it was more of a you problem. You remember how you couldn’t even say a word to any guy you liked back then. However, talking to Seungcheol was a piece of cake. You two were close, and others always told you that they think he makes it obvious he likes you.

Back then, you wouldn’t dare to tell him how you felt. He was way out of your league, and you recall that he mentioned not being interested in dating. Plus, you liked it when you thought of him as a friend more than a crush. But like they say, the more you suppress the feelings, the stronger it gets. 

Your feelings towards him lasted until his final year of high school. He was graduating soon, so you figured it was time to confess to him. You were hoping for a rejection, but he ended up reciprocating the feelings. Or, so you thought. Just a week before his graduation, he admitted to you that when he said he liked you, he meant it as friends.

He didn’t mean to hurt you, but all you could ever think of was how much he disappointed you. For a few days, you ghosted him, until the day before he graduated, he wanted to talk to you. Although he never liked you in that way, he still liked you as a friend. Neither of you wanted your friendship to be ruined all because of that. 

You ended up attending his graduation, since you thought it would be mean not to show up to a friend’s important day. It was a bit sad though; you realized your final year of high school would feel a little bit empty. But you reassured yourself that you’d use that time to get over him, because he promised you that it’s okay if you still like him since getting over takes time.

So about doing well with love right now, you’re certain you’re ready for it. You hope you’re at least ready for it.

“I gave your number to Mingyu,” your friend brings up. You two were talking about the men in your biochemistry class, saying how they were either too old or too mid. There were only a few guys who weren’t too bad, and your friend gave your number to one of them.

“Mingyu? As in biochem Mingyu?” You quickly got up from lying down on her bed, looking dead into her eyes in case she was joking with you.

“Yes, that Mingyu. He’s been eyeing you for quite some time, so I told him I can get him with you.”

You wish you could tell her you’re not too sure about this. You have some mixed feelings; a part of you says to YOLO it, but another part is hesitating about it, and you’re not sure what is exactly stopping you. Mingyu is a nice guy, very nerdy, and tall. Lots of girls want him, but it turns out he wants you. What’s the worst that can happen?

A notification from an unknown number pops up on your phone. The message was from Mingyu, and he was asking you out to lunch some time. It took you a while to respond since you and your friend were getting giddy over it. But you ended up agreeing to have lunch with him.

The lunch date with him wasn’t too bad. He was super sweet when you two were conversing. He always kept complimenting you, and it made your heart skip a beat. He did it often, and your pounding heart began to feel sort of different. You weren’t feeling quite ecstatic, but you figured you were just nervous.

From there, you’ve gone on several dates with him, and at this point, you’re just waiting for him to ask you to be his girlfriend. There’s no rush; he’s probably not ready, so you might as well wait for him. The more dates you go on with him, the more you’re hoping he doesn’t ask you. But on one date, he ends up asking you to be his girlfriend, and without thinking before speaking, you immediately say yes.

You never told anyone except your friend about the two of you being together, and you never found yourself with him during biochemistry. You weren’t too sure why you did that, but the relationship ended when you told him you couldn’t give him the same amount of love he gave you. That was only because you found yourself staring at Seungcheol for only two seconds. Your relationship with Mingyu lasted for only two months. 

When you told your friend about the breakup, she was surprised that you didn’t cry about it. She kept pestering you to tell her why you broke up with him, only to get a vague response from you that you just felt bad. You weren’t sure if it was the pang of guilt for staring at Seungcheol or the fact that you didn’t actually like Mingyu, but you were sure it had to do something with Seungcheol.

“Hah, Cheol just sent me another stupid brain-rotted reel,” you say out loud to your friend, scrolling through Instagram on your phone while she does the same.

“Seungcheol? I thought you said you guys don’t text anymore." Your friend’s curiosity piqued right when you mentioned that name.

“No, no. We don’t text like that anymore, but we send reels here and there. He probably just does it to annoy me or infiltrate our DMs. The only time he ever texts me is when he’s waiting for me by the studio,” you tell her, not realising she never knew that you always meet up with him at the end of the day.

“He’s the one giving you rides on Tuesdays? I thought that was Mingyu.”

“Nope. Seungcheol takes the same route going to the dorms, so he offered to give me rides once a week.”

“Is that why you broke up with Mingyu?” Your friend’s question makes your eyes go wide. You close your phone and get up from resting on her headboard to look at her properly.

“I–” You don’t want to continue your words; it’s most likely something you wouldn’t want to hear, especially if it’s about Seungcheol. “I’m… starving. Let’s eat first and talk about that later,” you mutter, hoping she forgets about it later on.

You never ended up talking to her about that, and you hope she never brings it up.

Seungcheol places a cup of coffee on the table in front of you. You were resting your head on the table, but immediately lifted up when Seungcheol sat next to you. “You look like you were dying today, so I got you some energy.” You thank him for the drink and start downing it like you were parched for days.

He picks up your notebook and starts analyzing the draft you drew. “What’s this for?” He asks, pointing at the lazy sketch of a jacket.

“It’s for my fashion properties assignment. We have to make an outfit out of fabric given to us. Mine is leather, so I’ve been brainstorming how to make this jacket look cute but comfy. I already drew the skirt for it.”

“I think you can easily come up with something. Your designs are cool and leather looks hard to work with, but you’re always dedicated,” Seungcheol assures you, hoping you don’t crash out in front of him over this.

You scoff. “Hah, what do you know about fashion?” Pointing out his every-day lazy black hoodie and grey sweat pants combination. 

“Okay, not everyone wants to wake up early and choose what to pair their tops with their bottoms! Some just pull out whatever they have,” he rolls his eyes.

“You would not survive fashion school,” you joke, making Seungcheol huff but grin. As much as he can be annoying and get annoyed by you, he’ll never take a joke seriously.

If only he knew how much he makes your day by his annoyance.

Life was calm. You were so close to finishing the leather jacket, only having to attach the pockets, but you decided to take a break and finish it another day. You still had to work on the skirt, but you had plenty of time—grateful that this project is due in six months.

While waiting in the mall for your friends to come back from the washroom, you were sitting down and sketching out a new design in your journal.

You were thinking of making a top for your friend since her birthday was coming up soon. She would definitely like a sweatshirt. Your name gets called out, turning your head in that direction, and you see your friends walk out the washroom.

The three of you walk around, thinking of what stores to check out. Jiwon brings up going to the shoe store nearby, so the two of you follow her. You roam around the store, looking at the different kinds of shoes. Platforms, Mary Janes, sneakers, boots, all kinds that were in your size and style.

“…Yo what the heck? I didn’t know you work here.” You overhear Jiwon. She was talking to one of the workers, most likely a friend of hers. He’s tall and kind of cute. His glasses sit on the top of his head, and you caught him glancing at you while talking to your friend.

You avert your eyes to the black loafers, picking it up as you examine them. Your other friend goes up to you and asks your opinion if she should get brown boots or black boots. After she tried both on, you told her to get the black pair since she already owns a brown one.

As you accompany your friend to the check-out, Jiwon goes up to you and says she needs to go buy some makeup after this. You looked at her friend, who was standing by the counter, catching him staring at you again. He quickly turns his head and walks away.

It only took a week later to meet Jiwon’s friend again at a café. You were sitting alone by the window and still sketching out the top for your friend, so focused that you didn’t notice someone was standing in front of you.

“Can I sit here?” He asks, making you look up. You nod and go back to sticking your head into your journal. He sits in the chair facing and starts a conversation. “You’re one of Jiwon’s friends, right?”

You put your pencil down and look at him. “Yeah, and you are?”

“Dokyeom,” he introduces himself with a smile, sticking his hand out for a handshake.

You shake his hand. “(Name).”

You got to know a lot about him and talked about how the both of you met Jiwon. He was her classmate since high school, and you met her in your fashion design courses. You ended up exchanging numbers, and the moment you left to go back home, you spammed your friend with multiple messages.

As usual, you laid on her bed while you yapped to her about him. It’s always been this way with every guy you both encounter since your high school days. You talked for a while, not even realising it was already midnight—at least it’s a weekend night.

You spoke to Dokyeom very often. Always texting during your lectures and even calling at night. Sometimes you would even call him while you were sewing. There was something familiar about him every time you talked, and it felt nice.

One time you were on call, he asked you about your ideal type. You never really had an ideal type, so you said common traits all your crushes had from the top of your head. “Someone tall, kind, and a cute smile too. I’d want them to be smart and productive as well.”

"So...me basically,” he jokes. You agreed without a thought and that conversation started your relationship with Dokyeom.

You really like him. He was kind and entertaining. He was always fun to your friends and was nice to everyone. He always took you out on dates and took you home. Unlike Mingyu, Dokyeom made sure that the world knew you were his.

He really loved you and wanted to show everyone that he did. And by every one, he meant every one. The news got to Seungcheol one day and it all just stopped. The daily brain-rotted reels he sends you ended up being three times a week. 

He barely got a response from you to the reels, and you only reacted to the messages. He slowed them down and sent them to you once a week. The only time you responded to a reel he sent, he left your message on ‘seen’, and then stopped sending you reels.

It’s not that he hated you or anything. He just knew you had a boyfriend now, so he didn’t want to go against your relationship’s boundaries. He would still pick you up every Tuesday, but the car ride conversations were always about school now or sometimes silent. He never asked about Dokyeom, and you never brought him up.

Being distant with Seungcheol kind of hurt, but you knew you were just getting over him and Dokyeom was there to help you. Or so you thought. Somehow, there would be conversations you have with Dokyeom, and you would absentmindedly bring up Seungcheol.

The first time you did, he asked who he was, and he didn’t sound jealous, just curious. You explained that he was just an old crush from high school and that he was basically a distant friend to you now. 

He got more curious about him so you showed him his profile once. He looked through his account and started saying how you downgraded so much, pointing out Seungcheol’s physique.

You didn’t want Dokyeom to be hurt, so you began assuring him that he was much better than Seungcheol. You admit that Seungcheol played you back in high school and that he’s not even all that. Ever since that, you would bring down Seungcheol.

You were convinced you disliked Seungcheol, but Dokyeom always thought otherwise. Even though you would talk badly about him, your boyfriend still listened to you talk about him.

“I think you still like him,” Dokyeom brings up while you were ranting about what Seungcheol did to you in your junior year of high school. You were taken aback and denied so quickly. “You talk about him more than me,” he mutters. You apologized and assured him that you care about him more than Seungcheol.

“You know it’s okay if you still like him,” he considered. 

“No!” You retorted. “That’s just morally wrong! Why would I like another man while I’m in a relationship?! I don’t like him anymore, and I never will. I have you now, and you already make me happy.”

Dokyeom still wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t want to see you angry again, so he just nodded and patted your head.

Another time you brought up Seungcheol was when Dokyeom asked you who your first love was. When you admitted it was Seungcheol, he already knew since you always talked about him. When you asked him who his first love was, all he did was point at you, and that already made you regret saying your answer.

I never will. You said that in hopes you won’t ruin your relationship because of an old crush. Why do you always find yourself talking about Seungcheol anyway? He did you so wrong, and you’re sure he doesn’t care about you. Why was he even your first love?! 

A week later, you realized you were lying. After you told Seungcheol he doesn’t need to drop you off at your dorm anymore since Dokyeom could take you there, you ended up deleting his contact on your phone and unfollowing his Instagram. But after one car ride with your boyfriend, you thought about Seungcheol and what he really means to you. Dokyeom was right.

You went to Jiwon for advice about it, and she figured he would want you to admit it to him since all he wants is for you to be happy. That night, you confessed to Dokyeom that you still had feelings for Seungcheol, but it was only 1%—since 99% is for your boyfriend.

However, the more you saw Seungcheol, the feelings kept growing more. You never told Dokyeom, but you didn’t want to keep hurting him. On one random Monday afternoon, you met up with him at the same café you first met him and broke up with him on the spot. You never wanted to admit it was about Seungcheol, so all you told him was that you were just the problem in the relationship—which was true.

Your relationship with Dokyeom only lasted for six months, but for some reason, you felt relieved and free. It only took you a few days to realize that Dokyeom reminded you of Seungcheol, and you used him to fill that empty void since senior year. But no matter how loving Dokyeom was to you, you secretly hoped it was Seungcheol instead.

Guilt held onto you and convinced you that you were a bad person at this point. You knew you were going to die alone, but honestly, you’d rather have that than break someone’s heart again. Not only were you single—which you could care less about—you were still distant with Seungcheol. 

You tried not to care, but every time you saw him on campus, it always hurt to think about how distant you two are. It got to a point where you walked past him and neither of you said hi. You figured he hated you until you once had a dream about him when you got a fever.

You were at a party, and all of a sudden Seungcheol’s friends made fun of you. You blamed it on him and left the party. The scene changed, and you were walking with your friend to your next lecture. As you walked down the halls, you noticed your mother’s friend was with someone, so you greeted her, not bothered by the fact that your “aunt” was at your university. That someone she was with ended up being Seungcheol. When he smiled and waved at you, you frowned and ignored him as you walked away. 

You instantly jolted awake, sweating real bad as the headache you had earlier stopped. You looked at the time, 4:27. It’s Tuesday, and around this time, you would wait for Seungcheol to pick you up. You thought a lot about the dream and how you were so mean to him in that dream.

“I don’t want to hate him anymore,” you think to yourself. You open your phone to Instagram, look up his username, and immediately hit follow. Then you go to your contacts and type his number to remake his contact in your phone—still remembering his number and putting it in your phone like the first time you two exchanged numbers. 

Right when he followed you back three minutes later, you sent him a message about how you don’t like the two of you becoming distant and wanting to start over as friends. He agrees, and you ask to see him over lunch.

The next day you met up with him for lunch, and he was still the same annoying Seungcheol: always watching brain-rotted reels while you two talk and always teasing you. It feels nice to have this back, and you’re glad the two of you are not going to be distant anymore. Well, you thought you two were on bad terms, but everyone, including him, never thought that. It should’ve hit you that he could never hate anyone, so what would make him hate you?

After that, you went to the design studio thinking about Seungcheol. You really do like being friends with him, and you’re sure you don’t like him romantically. You soon realized that you didn’t need to bring him down in order to get over him. Today made you realise why he’s your first love. 

You finally finished the leather jacket and the skirt. You never realized how you never got to finish the outfit while you were with Dokyeom, but only being able to finish it when you were alone. The good part of being a single fashion designer is that you have a lot of time for yourself to design anything.

The bad part, though, is that people like you always make apparel for others but yourself. It took you a while to notice that the leather jacket was too oversized for the skirt. It’s a men’s jacket, and the measurements were for Seungcheol.

After handing in your design, you finally took some time to design something for yourself. Maybe some jeans or a cute sweater. Since Valentine's Day was coming up and you and your friends were invited to a party that day, you had an excuse to make a whole outfit for yourself.

You took several days brainstorming and sketching out what to wear, but you finally settled on something simple. Maybe you were too focused on creating your outfit that you didn’t realise Valentine’s Day was about love, and all of sudden all your friends had a date to the party.

“I can’t believe we’re the only ones without a date!” Your friend complains. “Even Jiwon is going with that red head guy!”

“Hey, we have each other. You should wear that top I made for you for your birthday.”

“I definitely will.”

The both of you lie down on her bed, except this time you’re not talking about guys. It’s not bad to not have a date, but you’ll be disgusted if you see your friends all over their dates.

“Hey, it’s kind of ironic how all our friends’ dates are all friends too. And they have three guys who still don’t have a date.”

“Yeah, no. Saerom tried setting me up with Junhui because she thought we’d be perfect for each other, but he keeps sending me cat photos. And didn’t he like everyone?”

“Yikes. I forgot his friend group is odd.” Right when you brought that up, you get a text from Minghao, Jun’s cousin. He asks you if you already have a date to the party, and you reply with a no. The only person from that friend group you can tolerate is Minghao. He’s pretty much normal, but he’s just a friend.

Minghao then asks you if you want to go with him to the party. “Oh, wow, Minghao is asking me out,” you say to your friend. “What should I say?”

“Yes! Are you crazy (Name)?”

“What about you, though?”

“I’ll be fine. I have Hayoung since she doesn’t want to go with anyone.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s not going to show up.”

“Still. Just go with him!”

You sigh and send him a thumbs up. A part of you only wants to do this for the fun of it, but another part of you doesn’t want to since you like being alone.

The day of the party rolls by, and you just finished up the dress you were making for it. All your friends agreed you were all going there together. You quickly made a few adjustments to your dress in the car, putting the pack of pins in your handbag. If there’s one thing you can’t go out in public without, it’s a sewing kit.

You arrive at the house where it was being held, and you see several people entering. When you all entered the house, your friends easily found their dates and you met up with Minghao.

You honestly just wanted to stay with your friend, so you stuck with her as Minghao followed behind with his friend. No matter how many times you wanted to be with your friend, your other friends and his friends always pushed you into Minghao’s arms and took pictures.

You felt that same pang of guilt when you were with Mingyu and Dokyeom. You know that feeling a bit too well, and all you want to do is leave the party with your friend. You eventually gave up and just stuck with Minghao for a while.

As you left him to go get a drink, you bumped into Seungcheol, who you thought doesn’t go to parties like these. "Hey, I thought your mom banned you from going to parties." He mentioned as you two walked to the kitchen.

“I thought you don’t go to parties? And my mom doesn't care anymore.”

“My friends convinced me to go here.” He picks up his phone, and his screen reveals ‘Mingyu’ as the person calling him, making your heart drop. He answers the call, hanging up seconds later. “Which, speaking of, are looking for me. I’ll see you around (Name)!” He walks the other way, and you leave the kitchen without a drink in your hand, only leaving with a pounding heart. 

You went back to Minghao and told him you were going to go home with your friend, and you left him without giving him a chance to say goodbye. Honestly, you hope Seungcheol didn’t see you with him and hope that none of your friends upload those photos. 

You looked for your friend and left the house together. Instead of going back to the dorms, you two just walked to the nearest convenience store to just hang out and calm down.

“So you don’t like Minghao?” Your friend asks as you look through the candies in the candy aisle of the store.

“I like him as a friend, just not in that way.” You confirmed, picking up a pack of gummy bears and following your friend to the drink aisle.

“I heard Saerom’s man was the one encouraging Minghao to ask you,” she points out.

“Junhui got pissed at me because I took his last person he was going to be with, like I kept telling him he can have his cousin!”

“What made you want to leave, by the way?”

You stayed silent as you watched her think of what beverage to buy. She looks back, waiting for an answer. “I think it’s because of me.”

She picks out an orange soda, and you two make your way to the cashier. “What do you mean?” She asks, in the middle of paying.

“I think I just like being single.” You two leave the store and sit down at a table right outside, placing your stuff on the table.

“And that’s okay. It’s not bad being single,” she assures, putting down the drink and holding your hand with one hand.

“I know it’s not. I just don’t do well with love; I keep hurting guys.”

“I can tell. I was there when Mingyu asked for your number, when Dokyeom said he was your ideal type, and when Minghao asked you out.”

You sigh and chuckle after. “Wow. I can’t believe I’m such a manipulator. I just led on three guys.”

“(Name) as much as I love you, that’s not something to be proud of.” You nod in response, repeatedly muttering a bunch of ‘I know’ to her. “You always keep saying it’s about you and your emotions. But have you ever considered it’s about Seungcheol?”

This is what your friend has wanted to discuss since your days with Mingyu. You knew your breakups were because of Seungcheol, but you never realized it wasn’t him, it was about him. That feeling in your heart you had earlier when you saw your ex’s name on his phone brings you back to freshman year.

You like Seungcheol.

“I think I still like Seungcheol,” you admit to your friend.

“All because you saw him earlier? Cause I saw you two talking in the kitchen,” she brings up about that little interaction that made you aware of your feelings.

“No. I think I always liked him, but I was in denial about it. Just think about it. I caught myself staring at Seungcheol while I was with Mingyu. Dokyeom told me I talk about him a lot. And well, Minghao never reminded me of him.”

“I figured. Whenever I asked you if you were going to be with your man, you were a bit soulless. No offence, but you were never excited when you talked about them. Now that I think about you, when you were with them, you never talked about them at all to us.”

You lowered your head, mentally slapping yourself for doing that. “It was so different from Seungcheol though. Every time you looked at Seungcheol and talked to him, it wasn’t the same with the others. I saw stars in your eyes. You didn’t like him; you were in love with him.”

Your friend is still holding onto your hand, ignoring the fact that you’re in the middle of having a heart to heart in front of a convenience store. 

“(Name), I think all you needed was to be honest with yourself. It’s okay to love Seungcheol. No matter how many hearts you break, you’re not a bad person. It just shows how caring you are. You can still be friends with him even if all our friends hate him. Even though I think what he did to you back in junior year was so messed up, you were so strong to go through that heartbreak. You are amazing and loving, and I want you to tell that to yourself every day.”

With your free hand, you cover your eyes with it. Your friend gave you tissue paper from her bag, as she was quick to notice that you were tearing up. She moves herself closer and brings you into her arms.

“Choi Seungcheol is one lucky man to have you love him.”

You got your leather jacket and skirt back, getting a 98% on it. As long as you got over the nineties for it, you’re happy. You only lost a few points for making it a men’s jacket instead of a women’s jacket. 

Since you got the jacket back, it would make sense to give it to Seungcheol since it’s clearly his size only. Your friendship with Seungcheol has been calm ever since that heart-to-heart with your friend. He still picks you up from the studio, but instead of taking you to your dorms, you two go on little side quests for fun. 

The weather has been getting warmer, so you two would go wherever to hang around outside. He picked up a hobby of taking photos due to a friend of his gifting him a camera. So every time he would drop you off at the dormitory, he would take a picture of you in front of the building.

“Open your sweater so you can show off the new shirt you made,” he requests, looking at you through the lens as he watches you zip down your sweater. You made an unserious shirt, printing a picture of a sock monkey on it. 

After hearing camera clicks, he puts the camera down. “Cute outfit,” he points out.

“And we need to work on your closet!” You tease.

He rolls his eyes and tells you good night, driving off when you tell him to rest well tonight. Right when you turn around, you face Jeonghan, who happens to be one of Seungcheol’s friends and lives on the floor above you.

“Wow, and Jisun said there was going on between you two,” he remarks. If there was anyone nosy about you two, it would be Jeonghan. According to Jisun, several guys—including Jeonghan—would ask about you and Seungcheol, some of whom she didn’t even know by name. 

"Yeah, cause we’re friends,” you confirm, heading to the elevator as Jeonghan follows you in.

“I asked Seungcheol if he still likes you, and he said he likes you as a friend only.”

Even though you’re quite annoyed by him, you still manage to respond to that. “Well, he never had feelings for me, so he’s valid for that. Plus, I like it that way.”

“So you can’t be delusional anymore,” he jeers as the elevator comes to a stop on your floor. You step out of the elevator, hoping Jeonghan just minds his own business and stays in there.

“I like being his friend anyway, Yoon Jeonghan,” you mimic his tone as you watch the doors close in front of him.

You’re not wrong with your words, though. You love being friends with Seungcheol.

Seungcheol and you are on your usual side quests after he picks you up from the studio. This time there were bands performing at a nearby park, so you went there to chill. You brought the jacket, but held onto it considering he’s going to assume it’s yours.

As you picked a spot to sit down, there was already music and the sky was getting dark soon—before that, you two went to feast yourselves with cheap ramen and an unhealthy amount of soda. 

You hand him the jacket without saying anything; he takes it with a puzzled expression displayed. “It’s the leather jacket I was designing a few months ago. I accidentally made it your size,” you speak up, smiling as you watch his perplexed expression turn into an ecstatic smile.

“Accidentally? Or did you intentionally make it for me?” He jokes as he puts it on, making you push his shoulder.

“This is going to be the last time I’ll ever make you something.” You snootily look away. He laughs and apologizes—always apologizing after he makes fun of you.

You two stayed silent as you swayed to the music. It’s calm and sweet. You could stay in this moment forever, nothing and no one to bother you. Right now could be a good time for Seungcheol to make another stupid joke, but he seems to be enjoying the music too.

This is what you need. Nothing romantic with him, but close to him. The sky was dark, and you pointed out the fairy lights hanging around the trees. Seungcheol lies down his head on the grass, now staring at the sky, as you follow along.

“Sky is too cloudy to see stars,” he mentions. You avert your eyes from the sky to him, turning your head to comfortably gaze at him. He was still looking up. You don’t expect him to look back; he never does. But you enjoy this, just intaking his unforgettable face.

“Thank you, (Name),” he mutters, “for coming here with me.”

You don’t respond right away, still listening to the music. “Of course, but I’m sorry,” you let out, now turning your head to gaze up at the sky again.

“Sorry for what?” He asks, your no-context apology makes him look at you now, watching you stare at the non-existing stars—just like his love for you.

“Still being in love with you.”

svt masterlist .ᐟ

[deminetly]

𓏵 A GUIDE TO SCRIPTING FRIENDSHIPS

──────────────────

YOUR FRIENDSHIP

┆what kind of friendship is it? is it chaotic, fun and full or adventures or deep and inspiring? maybe its just calm and supportive? maybe even a mix of all of these?

┆what do you want them to bring out in you? consider that if you script them to be really crazy and rebellious, you might turn out that way aswell. if you script them as calm and responsible, they probably wouldnt come with you to explore an abandoned hospital or shoplift some cute clothes

┆duo archetype examples golden retriever + black cat, chaotic + responsible, mom friend + menace

┆how long have you been friends? are you just gonna meet them for the first time and build up the friendship overtime or have you been friends for years and know each other really well already? if youve already known each other for a while, how did you meet them?

┆traditions maybe you get ice cream together every sunday, maybe you go for a trip every summer

┆hangouts what do you do together?

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

THEM AS A PERSON

basic info template here

┆traits to script weird, interesting, selfless, creative, supportive, caring, sweet, open-minded, fun, funny, adventurous, understanding, silly, helpful, thoughtful, unhinged, deep, positive, loyal, empatchetic, shy, cool, patient, passionate, wise, trustworthy, generous, humble, brave, reliable, inspiring, authentic

┆general vibe are they loud and chaotic, deep and mysterios or soft and calm? a mix of all of these?

┆energy level are they hyper or more towards the calm and chill side?

┆skills you can script them to have any skills that might benefit you like them being a hairstylist so they can help you dye your hair or being super good at math so they can help you with your homework

┆hobbies

┆a fun fact maybe they hate mint gum, maybe they have a secret tattoo that only you know about

┆friendship love language do they show affection by hugging you, complimenting you, making you gifts or asking you to hang out all the time?

remember - scripting every small detail about their personality is not necessary, your subconciousness already knows what you like in people

you can use already existing people/characters as insipration

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

THINGS TO SCRIPT

you guys dont have the same style (could cause fights while shopping)

theyre always getting you small but thoughtful gifts

they match your energy

they always have time for you

they always have interesting stories to tell you

they give amazing advice

you have a secret hangout that only you know about

they are very good at school and always willing to help you

they have the best taste in music, movies, shows, books, etc and introduce it to you aswell

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

QUESTIONS TO HELP YOU DEVELOP FURTHER

describe your friendship in 3 words

whats your go-to activity together?

why are you friends?

whats your favourite memory together?(if you havent met yet, whats something you cant wait to do with them?)

how do you two balance each other out? are you opposites that attract or two peas in a pod?

have you ever gotten into a fight? why? how did you fix it?

how would they describe you?

do you guys have a shared secret?

do you go to the same school or maybe even work together?

do you guys have a shared dream? (ex: travelling to another country together or starting a busieness together)

whats their signature scent?

whats the craziest thing you have done together?

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

SCENARIOS TO SCRIPT

you discover an undergroud club together

they surprise you with the tickets to your favourite band/artist

they make you a playlist and you go for a late night drive listening to it

going on a spontaneous road trip

you start a prank war (harmless of course)

sneaking out to go to a house party together

building a tree house

finding a stray animal and taking it home to raise it together

you start a yourube channel together

getting matching nails/hair/outfits

getting a job at the same place and working together

starting a podcast together

karaoke

─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─ ─

EXTRA

make them a playlist

make a moodboard for them/your friendship

design their house

script in a pet for them

write a story about one of your most memorable moments

[littlxpxtal]

I wish I never met you

TYRANTS || STORY MASTERLIST

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem!reader

WARNINGS: MDNI 18+ Content, swearing, sexual content, drug and alcohol use, violence

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

Mixing liquor and pot

Heard your brain cells can rot

If my memory was shot

I would like that a lot

I wish I could forget you

May

It was all a blur. The whole day. Zipping up my gown, putting the bobby-pins in my hair to situate the cap on my head.

I wish I could say graduation was the best day of my life, but I barely remember any of it. My name rumbled through the field, my legs moving without a thought. I moved my lips up on my face for the picture, shook hands with faculty that I had never seen or spoken to in my entire life.

The dinner with my parents was bland. They went on and on about college, asking me questions about what I decided to study. I don’t even remember the answer I gave.

I didn’t come to reality until the third time my phone rang while I laid on the edge of my bed, head hanging off the edge with my eye closed, a random record playing on my turntable was at the end and a soft humming noise filled the room.

I decided to finally check who it was, and to no surprise it was Sabrina.

“Hi” I mumbled into the phone, flipping over onto my stomach, one hand barely holding up the phone while the other dangled towards the ground.

”You done with family shit yet?”

”yes.” I answered simply, closing my eyes.

“Well I know you’re out feeling the best but, I really think you should come with me tonight.”

I groaned into my sheets.

“Sab” I whispered, my voice shaking.

“You can’t let this take over your life, y/n. We only graduate high school once.”

her positivity sickened me. I knew she was right. I didnt want her to be.

“Sab its the same shit we’ve been doing all year, what is different about tonight?”

“Well there’s no risk of expulsion”

”hah” it was her turn to groan in response.

“Y/N, im spending the whole summer abroad and I leave next week. I seriously need you to do this for me.”

”you cant pull that shit on me Sabrina its not fair.”

”but its true, y/n. You’re my best friends and I need you. You were a fucking zombie today. Snap out of it.”

there was a period of silence. I sat up in my bed and turned the lamp on.

“Well, what should I wear?” I can tell she tried to hide it, but I could hear her squeal on the other line.

“Cute top and a skirt.”

”I can make that work”

”fuck YA THERE SHE IS” she cheers into the phone. “I’ll pick you up in 15.”

We arrived to see the beach was already filled up, party in full swing. Sabrina gave me a reassuring look before we walked towards them.

”Let’s get some drinks. You deserve one” she says to me. I nod my head, following her lead.

We make our way over to the nearest keg, taking one of the many cups the boys were passing out.

“Grab me two” I whisper in her ear. She smiles wide and winks.

”That’s what im talking about.”

I chugged the first cup,passing it back to the kid who was pouring them out, he filled it back up and we walked with our cups to the dance floor.

“You gonna double fist all night?” Sabrina asks over the music.

”that’s the plan” I mumble back. The speakers are booming a new Metro Boomin song, and we make our way to the group of girls that are dancing.

I lose track of time, and snap back into reality when I notice Sabrina furiously texting on her phone.

“What’s up?” I ask. She hesitantly looks up, and locks her phone, sliding it back into her purse.

“Nothing, just, Toppers here. But, he’s with … his friends. So im just gonna stay here for a bit.” She awkwardly looks away, makes eye contact, then looks away.

“Sab, its okay, I would be an idiot to think he wouldn’t be here, especially with your boyfriend. Go say hi.” I give her shoulder a nudge and she shakes her head.

“No, im here with you.”

”im serious Sab.”

”just one more song. Who knows how long he’ll keep me on his arm if I go now.”

”you know I can fend for myself.” Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift starts playing on the speakers and Sabrina jumps up and down.

”I know, but I LOVE this song”

She starts leading us to the middle of the circle, and we sing to each other, as if we were the only two people on the beach. By the time the song is over, were doubled over laughing,our drinks spilt all over the sand.

“Im gonna go get another drink, you go say hi to topper okay?” She frowns and reaches for my hand.

”Fine, but I’ll be right back okay?” I roll my eyes.

”I told you I’ll be fine. Just go okay?” She smiles and skips away. I watch her walk over to the other side of the crowd, where a group of guys are standing, including Topper, Kelce, and, well of course, Rafe.

I notice everyone’s in conversation, expect for him. He’s just sipping from his cup, staring out into the sea.

I catch myself staring for too long, and realize i'm still in the middle of the dance circle, with two empty cups. I look around for the nearest keg and walk slowly over.

I made empty conversation with the girls standing around the keg while waiting in line, checking my phone every so often. The DJ continues to play songs I like, including pursuit of happiness, collard greens, Roll in Peace and more.

I find myself tipsy, dancing by myself in the sea of people. By the time I finally looked at my phone again, it had been an hour and I had a text from Sabrina.

were fuckin in my car really quick lol I’ll be right back.

that was from 5 minutes ago, so I probably wouldn’t see her for at least another half an hour.

I was tired of dancing, so I started walking towards the edge of the party, closer to the water.

The temperature outside was perfect. There was a slight breeze, not enough for me to put my hair up, but enough to get a whiff of the sea.

I pulled my phone out to take a picture of the water and the moon, before I heard a shout.

“Fucking BITCH”

I could recognize that voice anywhere. I whip my head to the right and see Rafe and another figure a few yards away.

everything in my mind told me not to go. But my heart was controlling my feet. I walked closer, and realized the other person was Noah.

“You ruined fucking EVERYTHING” Rafe growled.

“I didnt do shit expect tell her the truth man. She’s a dirty fucking shut,all you did was make sure I knew.”

I tensed up, and made eye contact with Noah. He smirked and looked back at rafe.

“Perfect timing, y/n, we were just talking about you!” Noah exclaimed, splashing the liquid in his cup in the air.

Rae whips his head back and stares deep into my eyes.

“Y/n,” he whispers. My body is still tense.

“Wh-whats going on” I ask

”your boyfriend - sorry I mean .. your confusing complicated situation ship over here is harassing me.”

rafe keeps his eyes on me. I cant read his expression, he looks empty.

“Maybe, if you just stayed in your place on the cut, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.” Noah shouts at me.

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

I decide its just best if I leave. I start to walk away and hear Noah chuckling.

“This is all YOUR fault” Rafe yells, lunging at Noah. Noah swings back in defense, and I stop in my tracks.

“STOP” a scream escapes my lips and I run over. Rafe is knocked to the ground scrambling to get back on his feet.Noah kicks him back down, and I hear a sharp click, and notice something in Noah’s hand. The smile on his face is terrifying, and as I get closer I realize its a switchblade.

“My god Noah put that thing away.” I whisper.

“If rafe wants to fight, we can fucking fight.”

He points the blade down at rafe who is still struggling to stand.

“Noah, seriously,” I walk towards him and his eyes flicker towards me, down at rafe and back at me. He points the blade up at me, and I start to shake.

“You’re insane” I whisper, taking a step back.

While he’s distracted, Rafe takes the opportunity to pull Noah’s leg, knocking him to the ground. The blade falls from his grip into the sand, and I lunge to get it. He reaches after it too, our bodies colliding. Rafe pulls him away from me while I grab the knife, and he pins Noah down, punching him straight in the face.

“That’s ENOUGH” I shout at the two of them. They both freeze and look up at me. The knife is dangling from my hand pointed down.

“Noah get the fuck out of here. And don’t EVER pull this shit again. You’re just embarrassing yourself.” He scrambles to his feet, patting the sand off his pants.

“Give me my knife back y/n” he commands. I shake my head.

”I’ll give it to you when you’re sober.”

he looks over at rafe. Something in his face must’ve scared him, because he makes a beeline back to the party.

I walk slowly towards rafe and pass him the knife. He safely closes it and stuffs it in his pocket.

“What’s wrong with you?”

He huffs, brushing sand off himself. He turns to look at the water, and his shoulders slump.

”I wish I knew” he whispered. After a brief moment of silence he turns to me, with sadness in his eyes this time.

“Look, y/n, im really-“

”I don’t want to fucking hear it okay? How many times are you going to put me through this. Like seriously?”

His jaw twitched and he looked down, running a hand over his hair.

“It hurts. It hurts so fucking much to see you hurt” he finally says.

“Then why do you keep hurting me?”

the sound of the waves and music behind us fills the silence.

“I don’t mean to. I just keep fucking up.”

I sigh, unsure of what to say. He takes a step towards me, I flinch slightly, which he notices, and makes him sigh.

“Sometimes I cant tell” I start to say. He looks up at me and takes another step forward.

“Sometimes I cant tell if you like me or hate me” I whisper the last part.

“Neither” his voice cracks slightly, and he looks up at the moon.

“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you, y/n. And I don’t, I don’t just like you, okay? I don’t just like you I fucking-“ he stops himself, his voice getting hoarse. “I fucking love you okay? And its driving me insane.”

I furrow my eyebrows and let out an involuntary laugh.

”the fuck are you talking about Cameron?”

he looks back at me, his face hard and serious.

“I mean, im fucking obsessed with you. I can never get you up of my head, even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. You’re always just THERE. All the fucking songs you’ve showed me, all my favorite shows and movies. God even my favorite color. Its just you, and its always been you. It’s fucking terrifying, did you know that?”

”I-I-“ I stammer. He takes a step closer.

“I think about you when is wake up, when I eat breakfast, when I work out, when I do homework, when im smoking, when im drinking, when im high out of my fucking mind, when im sober, when im driving around town. All I see is you. You’re fucking everywhere and I cant get you out of my head.”

”it sounds like you don’t want me there.”

”that’s the problem is I DO. I want you there, I want you with me. And I finally fucking had you, and I just-“ his voice breaks again and he closes his eyes.

“Just don’t know how to keep you.”

”rafe” I whisper, walking towards him to close the distance. “Rafe, why didnt you tell me?”

”god y/n, you don’t even know how hard it is. Im dealing with all this shit in my head, and I wanted to save you from it but you made your way deeper into my life than ever before, and I couldn’t hide you from how fucked up I am. I tied you into this mess, and it’s not good for you.”

”why did you tell Noah that lie about me and JJ?”

”I told him because he was bragging to everyone about taking you out. I was pissed that someone else was going to take you. I was jealous. I didnt think it was going to hurt you the way it did.”

”why didnt you just tell me before he even asked me out. We were seeing each other-“ he cuts me off

”because y/n, its easier for me to do shit like that than it is to express my feelings okay? I cant do this love shit easy alright? It doesn’t come naturally like it does some people. It’s fucking terrifying”

his breathing is ragged, and he starts to clutch his chest.

“It gives me these chest pains like I cant fucking breathe.”

he huffs out, trying to catch his breath. I notice his face is flustered.

”cmon, lets sit” I grabs his hand and pull him down onto the sand,

“its okay just breathe” his pants slow down, and I wrap my arm around his shoulders.

“It’s okay” I whisper again. He leans his head on my chest, and I hear a sob escape his mouth.

“Im so fucking sorry. Im so fucking sorry” he repeats this over and over a few times before going quiet.

”I know you are.” I finally say.

We sit in silence for about 5 minutes before its interrupted.

”Y/N! There you are-“ Sabrina cuts herself off when she sees us, Topper trailing behind her.

“I knew it” I heard him whisper to her.

”well, did you guys kiss and make up” topper slurs. She shoves his chest, letting out a giggle and a hiccup.

“You guys have been boning for hours now”i shoot back at them. Topper lets out a nervous laugh and Sabrina hides her face.

“Well, are you guys going to come join us or?” She asks. Rafe sits up and looks at me

“Can we start over?”

I smile at him, stand up and reach out my hand.

“Rafe?” I whisper, he takes my hand and stands up, his figure looming over me.

“Yes, pretty girl?”

”i Love you too.”

Previous Chapter | Instagram AU

Tags: @ltristessedureratoujours @davinashifts333 @tomholland792

[charliedawn]

I was wondering how the Hannibal family would react to the fact that they met their childhood friend, a reader? Maybe they used to be in love with her? Or were you just good friends?

Hannibal Lecter Sr.

Hannibal Sr. would greet you with perfect composure—but if you look closely, you might see his fingers tighten just slightly. You were once part of his formative years, and nostalgia is a powerful thing. But he wouldn’t let you see it. Besides, Hannibal Sr. had a terrible childhood and wouldn’t necessarily be happy reviving the memories.

"Ah…Y/N. What a surprise. Tell me, did you seek me out…or was this fate ?"

If you were childhood sweethearts, even in the innocent way, Hannibal Sr. would never have forgotten you. He’d remember everything—the way you laughed, the stories you shared, the little habits you had. Seeing you again ? It would make him remember things from his past he really would have liked to keep buried forever.

"You were always so…dear to me. I wonder, have you changed ? Or are you still the same fascinating creature I once knew ?"

Expect intense eye contact, lingering touches on your shoulder, and a deeply unhealthy interest in what you’ve been doing all these years without him. But since he is advanced in years, I would assume you are too and made a life for yourself. He would like to learn about your family and what you did during all these years. And maybe if you’re lucky…you would catch a glimpse of the nice young boy you used to play with as a child…

Hannibal Lecter Jr.

Hannibal Jr. would act like he’s completely unbothered—calm, charming, unshaken. But the moment he sees you, his mind would be racing. How ? When ? So many questions but all inconsequential next to the old feelings coming back to haunt him. Hannibal Sr. had told him you had died long ago…Obviously, he had been lied to.

"Y/N. What an unexpected reunion. You look…well."

If you were close as children, he would find it fascinating how much you’ve changed—or how much you’ve stayed the same. And if there was ever even a hint of romance between you ? He would remember every detail.

"Do you recall the last time we saw each other ? I do. Quite vividly, in fact."

Unlike his father, Hannibal Jr. would appreciate the memories of a time where things seemed so simple. He remembered when it was only the two of you at school and how excited you both were to be learning new things. If you moved on and had a life (kids, husband/wife or just new experiences) he would smile and nod politely. He would be glad you had what you always wanted…

Hannibal Jr. *takes your hand and kisses the knuckles/shakes it* : "…I have missed you, old friend. It was nice seeing you again."

Morgan Hannibal

Morgan would be completely thrown off guard at first. Let’s not forget that he was adopted quite late within the Hannibal family and he used to be abused by his old boss. He really didn’t like the man he was—weak and frustrated. But, he would hide his insecurities behind a smirk.

"Well, well. Look what the past dragged in."

If you were childhood friends, he’d be genuinely happy to see you. But if there were any romantic feelings back then ? He would be in denial. Firstly because you know who he used to be and no way would you love him and secondly, because he knows his family and would try to protect you.

"I barely recognised you. No, really—I thought you were someone else for a second. Guess I didn’t expect to see you again."

But the moment you start reminiscing ? Oh, that cocky mask would slip so fast…

"You still remember that ? Hah…yes, I guess I do too. I was a…very different man back then."

If you ever had feelings for each other ? He would smile at the past where he thought anything could be possible. And if you moved on ? He would feel sad of course but…also relieved that you managed to have a good life without him.

Kevin Hannibal

Kevin’s reaction would be immediate and emotional. He wouldn’t even try to hide it—he’d just stare at you in shock, his mouth opening slightly before he lets out an incredulous laugh.

"Holy shit. Y/N ?!"

He’d walk up to you, still blinking in disbelief, and then—without even thinking—pull you into a tight hug.

"Damn…I thought I’d never see you again."

If you were childhood best friends, Kevin would be overwhelmed by emotions. He’d immediately start talking about the old days, asking if you remember this or that, laughing as old memories flood back.

But if you were his first love ? Oh, now it gets complicated.

"Do you ever think about back then ? About us ?" Unlike his brothers, Kevin wouldn’t play games—if he still had feelings, he’d let them slip through before he could stop himself. But if you moved on ? He would respect it. Besides, he is technically still a wanted criminal so…Yeah. Not the right time for relationships.

Peter Hannibal

Peter would be stunned. Completely speechless for a few seconds, just staring at you with wide, teary eyes. And then—he’d immediately get emotional.

"Y/N ! Oh my God, it’s really you !" He’d rush forward and grab your hands, squeezing them tight like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. "I missed you—I missed you so much ! I thought about you all the time ! You—you still remember me, right ?"

If you were just childhood friends ? He’d be overjoyed to see you again, rambling about how he always wondered what happened to you. But if you were his first crush ? He’s absolutely melt and hold you tight.

"I—uh—I used to…I mean, I kind of—um, never mind !"

Peter is not good at hiding his emotions, so if he ever had feelings for you ? You’re gonna know.

[writingwithciara]

across the hall; part 7 -quinn hughes-

summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care

word count: 1.3k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader, toxic ex-boyfriend x reader

notes: i apologize for andy. he's a horrible person but it's needed. no good story is complete without a conflict 😅

things had suddenly gotten weird, but interesting in y/n's life.

she and andy began dating again in secret & for so many reasons, it was wrong. the main reason being their messed up past. but part of her felt it was wrong because of quinn.

it didn't feel right to hide something so monumental from the one person she told everything to. she spent all week wondering how he would react when he found out, mainly questioning if he would be angry, upset or disappointed. or perhaps even all three.

so when quinn came home, it became even more difficult. she had promised she'd spend the day with him when he got back but how was she going to do that without telling him about her new relationship?

early the next morning, y/n and abby met quinn in the garage. he helped abby into her seat and y/n felt something tugging at her heart. they got in their own seats and quinn began to drive.

"we watched the game the other night. i'm so proud of how you played, quinn."

"thanks. i knew you'd be watching so i tried to play my best."

"you're a great player, honestly. you didn't need to try too hard."

"thanks again. not sure why but your opinion means a lot to me."

"same." y/n looked at him and smiled.

"so what else did you guys do while i was gone?"

"i spent a lot of time with bella. she's great. i love her." abby grinned as she watched the scenery outside her window.

"yeah. she's pretty great." quinn smiled and turned towards y/n. "did you have to work a lot?"

"um, no. i had dates."

"dates? as in plural?"

"yeah."

"who was it? anyone i know?"

"no. met him while i was working." y/n looked out the window.

"oh. what an odd place to meet someone." quinn chuckled lightly and kept his eyes on the road, trying his best to hide the hurt on his face.

while they were on the road, his teammates had convinced him that y/n had feelings for him and they proceeded to convince him to ask her out on a date when they got back. but hearing this was like a hard blow to his heart and ego.

his teammates were wrong and he hated how it was making him feel. he didn't think he would be able to have feelings for someone since his last girlfriend broke his heart.

but regardless of his unreciprocated feelings, he still cared about y/n and considered her to be his best friend. he would still do anything for her.

y/n looked over at quinn in time to see what she assumed was a flash of hurt on his face. the guilt started eating away at her. everything felt off and she hated it

the first place they went was the restaurant they always went to when it was the three of them. the wait staff always assumed they were a family and they never corrected them.

but today was different. after three people commented on how cute their family was, quinn corrected them.

"actually, we are not together. she's just my neighbor."

"oh. i'm so sorry." the waitress pulled out her pad of paper and took their order. while she was gone, quinn helped abby with the maze of the placemat. y/n smiled at the sight.

an hour later, quinn was pulling into a parking spot in the lot of his favorite mini golf place that also doubled as an arcade. y/n climbed out and by the time she made it around the car, quinn already had abby out and was holding onto her hand. he was perfect & y/n nearly hated him for the way she was starting to feel.

"what should we do first? mini golf or the arcade?"

"mini golf!!" abby cheered and began tugging on quinn's hand. he chuckled and followed her. after he paid, he turned to y/n.

"you coming?"

"what? oh. yeah. i'm right behind you, quinn." y/n shook her head and followed her daughter towards the first hole. she watched as quinn taught abby how to play the game. turns out, she was a natural and didn't need much help. she even started a friendly competition with quinn.

y/n felt her heart swelling with joy over what she was witnessing. something andy would never do with abby. not because she wasn't giving him an opportunity to do so. but because he genuinely would not be caught dead making a fool of himself.

it was the main reason why she was starting to regret her decision to date him. and it was the reason why she found herself falling for quinn instead.

later that night, they were walking up the stairs to their apartment. quinn was carrying a sleeping abby and any other man y/n knew would've been complaining. but not him. he was special.

"today was the most fun i've had outside of hockey in a really long time. thank you."

"it was my pleasure quinn." y/n smiled when they reached their floor. "abby really loves spending time with you."

"i love spending time with her too. she's a great kid." quinn glanced at the sleeping girl in his arms and smiled. "you did a good job raising her."

"thanks. it was difficult but i figured it out."

"well i'm not surprised. you're a smart woman, y/n." they reached their apartments and quinn gently handed abby over. she didn't wake up as he opened y/n's door for her. he followed her inside and waited for her to get abby to bed.

when she came out a few minutes later, she grabbed two glasses and poured a little bit of wine in each before handing quinn one.

"thanks." he took a sip and smiled. "i missed you while i was away, you know??"

"oh." she looked at him. "i actually missed you too. kinda hard knowing that you weren't across the hall to talk to when i had a decision to make. and trust me, i faced a few tough ones."

"really? like what?"

"the guy i've been seeing. i wasn't sure when we started going out and i wanted nothing more than to talk to you. maybe you could've talked me out of it."

"yeah, maybe." he downed the rest of the wine in his glass and smiled. "who is it?"

"promise you won't hate me?"

"i could never hate you." he placed his hand on her arm. "you can tell me anything. i would never judge you."

"okay. um...it's andy."

"andy? as in your ex & father of your daughter? the one who hurt you in multiple ways?"

"the very same." y/n could sense the judgement in his voice so she avoided his gaze just as he dropped his hand from his spot on her arm. "i knew you wouldn't like it. that's why i didn't want to tell you."

"it's not that i don't like it. it's just that i don't understand why you would want to start dating the guy you had to fly across the country to get away from." quinn stood abruptly, causing y/n to flinch. "he hurt you, y/n or are you forgetting that?"

"i'm aware of my past with that man. and i promised myself i wouldn't let my guard down until i saw some actual change that could be permanent. and that's what he did, quinn." she sighed. "i'm aware that it may have been a terrible decision but i'm not the type of person who can hurt someone. and i like giving people the benefit of the doubt. maybe he really has changed."

"yeah. maybe." he looked at the door. "i should probably go."

"quinn, i-"

"i'll see you tomorrow."

before she could respond, he was already out the door. she knew it was a bad idea to tell him.

----------

tags: @alwaysclassyeagle @justagingerliving @marroonwitch @hwalllllllelujah

[nanamineedstherapy]

Ooga Booga Suguwu gets mated to Female Mowgli after Neanderthal BL Betrayal

Previous Chapter: Ooga Booga Toji gets Hunted (Tumblr/Ao3)

Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies courting you with grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication. Just prehistoric buffoonery. A/N: Okay. Listen, cave gremlins. Someone said, "I can’t see Toji as a househusband." And to that, I say: There are no gender roles in this fic. This is a Neanderthal AU. There are no caveman podcasts telling people what they can & cannot do. Nobody is saying "A man provides & a woman nurtures," because they are all too busy fighting mammoths & eating dirt. Neanderthals did not have fixed gender roles. Archaeological evidence suggests that both men & women hunted, gathered, & took care of children when needed. They did what made sense for survival—which means if your mate was out there biting buffaloes to death like an unhinged animal, you might stay back & make sure she doesn’t turn into a full-blown cannibal. Some sources that actually explain this: Harvard University & Cambridge Study on Neanderthal Diets & Roles Smithsonian on Neanderthal Social Structures Science.org on How Neanderthals Had No Strict Gender Roles Toji is not a “househusband.” Toji hunts when necessary. He just also cooks & cleans, because if he didn’t, his feral wife would eat a person. He is a retired hunter, not a stay-at-cave husband. The term "house-husband" was used for comedy, so you could imagine this absolute weapon of a man trying to keep his mate from killing people while also making sure the fire doesn’t go out. If you still don’t believe me, that’s fine. Just know that in this AU, I am god. And in this world, Toji cooks, Gojo steals instead of hunts, Suguru runs a cult, Sukuna is submissive when breeding, & Choso is Neanderthal Nick Cannon. If this still upsets you, then I encourage you to simply hallucinate a different reality. No hate, just bonk yourself gently & move on. :) Now for this chapter: Have you ever wondered what would happen if Suguru met you—a feral, unwashed, tree-dwelling Female Mowgli who has never heard of laws, hygiene, or personal space? And what if you chased him down like prey, kidnapped him, & forcefully domesticated yourself?Ya, me neither. I promise you, this fic is 90% brain rot, 10% caveman BL betrayal, & 100% historically inaccurate. If you ever wanted to see Suguru suffer like a Regency novel heroine but in Neanderthal times, welcome. As usual, => This is a different reader, but the same Suguru—unfortunately for him. => No suggestive bits in this one. => This is Suguru’s chapter, but Gojo, Sukuna, Toji & Nanami are also here. The other guys are getting their solo stories, with guest appearances in each other’s on a regular. So I recommend reading all of them, but I can’t force you to make good life choices.

Suguru is sulking.

Gojo has abandoned him.

Not forever. Not in a way that makes Suguru want to throw himself into the nearest tar pit.

But in a way that makes his chest ache with betrayal. Because Gojo—his best friend, his brother, his hunting partner—has a mate now.

A crazy mate. A mate that throws rocks at Suguru for existing near her mate and makes Gojo do stupid couple things instead of hunting mammoths with Suguru. (Suguru refuses to believe that it’s Gojo making her do those things, because that would be to much for history’s first BL.)

Suguru crosses his arms, scowling as he stomps through the dense forest.

Gojo used to care. Used to hunt with him.

Used to challenge him to pointless fights that ended in mutual near-death experiences.

Now?

Now he makes baby noises at his mate, carries her food and lets her steal his shiny rocks like some weakling.

It is disgusting.

Suguru is disgusted.

Disgusted and alone.

He grunts, dragging his spear along the ground, staring at the trees.

(Gojo stupid. Gojo weak. Gojo—)

Twig snap!!!

Suguru stills.

The hairs on the back of his neck rise.

He is being watched.

Slowly, cautiously, he turns his head—

And sees you.

High up in the trees.

Crouched like some horrible, unwashed baboon.

Eyes sharp.

Teeth sharp.

Naked.

Watching him.

Unblinking.

Grinning.

Suguru stares.

You stare back.

For a long, long moment.

And then—

You scratch your ass.

Suguru gags.

Suguru does not know what he has found.

It is not human.

It is not beast.

It is something worse.

A feral woman.

A woman who does not live in a tribe.

A woman who does not have a mate.

A woman who does not bathe.

A woman who lives in trees like some accursed monkey.

Suguru recoils, nostrils flaring. He has never smelled anything so foul. Not even the rotting mammoth corpse he found last summer.

(That mammoth was a more acceptable mate than this.)

And yet—

You grin at him.

Like you like him.

Like you want him.

Suguru takes a step back.

You tilt your head, squinting, then—

Drop from the tree.

Land on all fours.

Starts crawling towards him.

Suguru panics.

(Oh no. Oh no. Oh no no no no—)

He turns.

He runs.

You chase.

You are fast.

You move like an animal, zigzagging through the trees, sniffing the air, following his scent.

Suguru curses, dodging branches, jumping over rocks.

You laugh, a raspy, unhinged sound, like you haven’t used your voice in years.

(Mate!) you suddenly grunt.

Suguru screams.

You pounce.

---

When Suguru wakes up, he is not in his tribe.

He is in a tree.

Tied to a thick branch with vines.

Suspended over a shallow river.

He blinks, confused, groggy.

Then—

A smell hits him.

A horrible, vile smell.

The smell of death.

The smell of you.

Suguru stiffens.

Turns his head.

And sees you.

Squatting on another branch.

Watching him.

Grinning.

Suguru stares.

You scratch your ass again.

He gags again.

You tilt your head. (Mate not happy?)

Suguru's eye twitches. (I am not mate.)

You frown. (Then why you here?)

Suguru growls, (You kidnapped me, you foul, disgusting, forest woman!)

You blink. Considers this. Then shrug. (Sassy mate. Wide mate. I take.)

Suguru breathes deeply through his nose.

Exhales.

---

After a lot of bargaining (begging), you let him go back to his tribe.

But you insist on following him there.

After a while of trying to sho you away, he gives up.

He lets you tag along. (He wants to make Gojo jealous.)

But not before Suguru fixes you.

Not out of kindness.

Not out of duty.

Out of self-preservation.

Because you are horrible.

He drags you to the river.

You fight.

You bite him.

He bites back.

You hiss.

He dunks you underwater.

You scream.

He holds you down.

The forest echoes with your suffering.

But Suguru does not stop.

Not until the grime is gone.

Not until the sticks are out of your hair.

Not until you no longer smell like dead things.

When he finally releases you, you gasps, clawing at the riverbank reflection.

Suguru crosses his arms, smug. (See? Clean.)

You pant, soaked, furious. Turn to snarl at him—

And pause.

Eyes widening.

Mouth parting.

Suguru furrows his brows. (What—)

You grab his face.

Yank him close.

Narrows your eyes. (You.)

Suguru blinks. (Me...?)

You shove your face next to his.

Compares features.

Your hair—now washed—falls long around your shoulders.

Your face—now clean—looks...

Looks...

Suguru feels a horrible, creeping realization crawl up his spine.

You look like him.

The same, but female.

He bluescreens.

You grin. (Mate very pretty.)

Suguru malfunctions.

---

Now, Suguru has a problem.

Because the forest woman is obsessed with him.

You follow him everywhere.

You copy him.

You steal his food.

You try to groom his hair (he does not let you).

And worst of all—

Worst of all—

The tribe loves you.

After one (1) hunt, you become legendary.

You jump onto a buffalo’s back.

Bites its neck.

Kills it with your teeth.

Suguru watches in horror as the tribe worships you.

(Strongest huntress!)

(Wild goddess!)

(Suguru lucky! Suguru mate strong!)

Suguru despairs.

Because now—

Now you have a cult.

---

Suguru is being courted.

It is horrifying.

His mate—the feral, tree-dwelling, bone-gnawing goblin woman—has decided that you will woo him.

He does not want this.

And yet, it is happening.

The first attempt? A gift.

Suguru wakes up to a severed wolf head in his lap.

It is fresh.

It is bleeding.

It is staring at him.

He grunts, staring at the horrifying offering. (What this?)

You squat in front of him, grinning. (Gift! For mate!)

Suguru exhales. (Why.)

You puff out your chest. (Kill with hands. Strong. Good mate.)

Suguru drags a hand down his face. (Could give... normal gift.)

You blink. Tilts your head. (Like what?)

Suguru gestures vaguely. (Meat. Spear. Fur.)

You pause, considering. Then nod. (Okay.)

Suguru breathes a sigh of relief. Finally, you will—

The next day, you bring him a whole deer carcass.

You do not drag it.

You do not carry it.

You throw it over your shoulders like a sack of potatoes and drop it at his feet with a loud thud.

Suguru despairs.

Because the tribe is watching.

And they cheer.

Suguru dies inside.

---

The second attempt? Public displays of affection.

Suguru is a private man. A dignified man.

He does not like attention.

His mate?

You like to lick him in front of everyone.

One day, you grab his arm, drag your tongue from wrist to shoulder, and bite down.

Suguru screams.

You grin. (Mark mate. Now other women know.)

Suguru clutches his arm, scowling. (NO WOMEN WANT ME. YOU SCARE THEM ALL AWAY.)

You tilt your head, confused. (Why mate angry? Mate should commit happy.)

Suguru grits his teeth. (Mates do not bite in public.)

You squint. (Not? Then how they mark?)

Suguru pinches his nose, exhales. (They do this.)

Then he leans forward and kisses your forehead.

Just a small peck.

Civilized. Gentle.

Like a normal man showing affection.

You freeze.

Eyes wide.

Breath held.

Suguru smirks. (See? Better than bite.)

You malfunction.

You stare at him like he just reinvented fire.

Then—

You screech.

Pounce.

Pins him to the ground.

(Do again.)

Suguru realizes he has made a mistake.

---

The third attempt? Building a home.

Suguru is trying to civilize you.

You live in trees.

This is not acceptable.

So he decorates his cave and makes it comfortable for you.

Draws paintings on walls. Adds soft fur bed. A proper fire pit.

You hate it.

You refuse to go inside.

You climb onto the roof and sleep there instead.

Suguru drags you inside. (Cave good. Tree bad.)

You huff. Crosses arms. (No like cave.)

Suguru scowls. (Why.)

You grin. (Cave no fun. Tree fun. Can watch prey. Jump on prey.)

Suguru closes his eyes. (You do not need to jump on prey. Can hunt normally.)

You stare at him like he is speaking witchcraft.

(But… jump fun.)

Suguru facepalms.

His mate is incapable of being civilized.

---

And yet—

And yet—

Suguru wants you.

You are horrible.

You are disgusting.

You are wild and untamed.

But you want him like no one else ever has.

Like he is the best thing you have ever seen.

Like he is your greatest hunt.

Like he is worthy.

And something deep, deep in Suguru’s primal brain likes that.

So one night, when you are crouched by the fire, gnawing on bones, he does it first.

He licks your cheek.

You freeze.

Drop the bone.

Turn.

Slowly.

Staring.

Suguru smirks. (Mate now.)

Your eyes widen.

Then—

You tackle him.

Pin him.

Bite his neck.

And grin. (Mate now.)

Suguru grins back.

He has been caught.

And he does not want to escape.

---

Suguru has made a mistake.

A huge mistake.

A horrible, irreversible, life-changing mistake.

Because now?

Now his feral mate has decided it is mating time.

It starts with gifts.

Not normal gifts.

Not civilized gifts.

Not furs, beads, or food like any normal person in the tribe would give their mate.

No.

You bring him bones.

So many bones.

Some from animals.

Some from... he does not want to ask what.

You dump them all in the cave, proudly grunting. (Nest for mate.)

Suguru stares at the horrifying pile of skulls, ribs, and femurs that now decorates your and his home.

(We not live like this.)

You tilt your head. (Why not?)

(We civilized.)

You scratch your ass. (What mean 'civilized'?)

Suguru exhales deeply.

It is fine.

He will fix you.

Then came the dancing.

You think mating requires dancing.

You watched others do it (Gojo)—slow, swaying, seductive movements by the fire. (It was not seductive, because collective Nanami, Sukuna, Toji and Suguru and his own mate were throwing bones at him.)

You decide to try.

But you do not know how to dance like that.

So you squat.

Bend your knees.

And start violently shaking your ass.

Suguru chokes on his own spit.

You are not dancing.

You are glitching.

You look possessed.

He grabs your shoulders. (Stop.)

You stop. Blink up at him. (Good dance?)

Suguru rubs his temples. (No.)

(He will not tell you that you did not invent twirking, but the first aneurysm.)

You frown.

Consider.

Then drop onto all fours and start crawling in circles around him like a deranged crab.

Suguru panics.

(WHAT DOING?)

You grin. (Mating dance. Scare rival women away. My lion mother do it.)

Suguru despairs.

There are no rival women.

There is only him, suffering.

Then, you try to bite him again.

Suguru stops you.

Grabs your face. Stares into your soul.

(We do not bite for mating.)

You frown. (Then... how?)

Suguru squints.

Realizes.

Oh.

Oh no.

You do not know.

You—grown, feral, unhinged person—have no idea how actual mating works.

You are just winging it.

Suguru exhales. Deeply. (Come here.)

You crawl into his lap immediately.

He drags a hand down his face. (No. Sit normal.)

You sit like a frog.

Suguru ignores it.

(Okay. Listen.) He places a hand on your stomach. (Mating... make baby.)

You blink. (Yes. That why we mate.)

Suguru nods. (Right. But we do not do it by... throwing bones or crab-walking around the fire.)

You pout. (Then how?)

Suguru sighs. Leans in. Whispers.

Explains.

In detail.

Your eyes go wide.

Your mouth falls open.

You freeze completely.

Suguru smirks. (Understand now?)

You slowly nod.

Then—

You grab his face.

Eyes sharp.

Expression dead serious.

(You say... I must sit on you? And you hold me? And we move?)

Suguru stares. (Yes.)

You grin.

Lunge.

Tackle him.

Immediately try to climb him like a tree.

Suguru yells.

Suguru is dying.

He is being smothered.

You—his feral, unhinged, terrifying mate—are treating mating like a wrestling match.

You are too strong.

Too enthusiastic.

Too feral.

You lick his jaw. (This good?)

Suguru pants.

Shakes his head. (Slower.)

You grunt. (Why?)

Suguru grips your waist. (Because I said so.)

You grin.

(Suguru leader in cave. Suguru tell me what do.)

Suguru nods. (Yes.)

Your eyes sparkle.

(Suguru... alpha.)

Suguru stops breathing. You are treating this like monkey mating, but he doesn’t care; he’s neanderthal.

Your pupils dilate.

Suguru realizes he has made a second, irreversible mistake.

Because now?

You are obsessed.

---

The next day, the tribe knows.

They see Suguru leave the cave, covered in bites and claw marks.

They see you following behind him, grinning smugly when Nanami and Toji’s mates give you a thumbs up.

They see you cling to his back and lick his neck in front of everyone.

Suguru grunts.

Ignores it.

Walks to the river.

You follow, still attached to him like a damn leech.

You turn to the women. Grin. (Suguru alpha.)

The women gasp. (Mainly Gojo’s because she always thought Suguru was after her mate.)

The men nod in approval.

Nanami passes by. Smirks. (Alpha, huh?)

Suguru glares at him. Contemplates murder.

Gojo appears. Sees the chaos.

Sees Suguru’s state.

Sees you licking his jaw.

Gojo wheezes.

(Suguru. Bro. You got tamed?)

Suguru does not answer.

Suguru does not speak.

Suguru simply accepts his fate.

Because this is life now.

This is his new reality.

He is alpha.

You are his mate.

And you will never leave him alone again.

---

That evening, Suguru sits by the tribe fire.

Sulking.

Mourning his old life.

Mourning his sanity.

Gojo sits next to him, smug. (You understand now.)

Suguru grunts. (Yes.)

Gojo pats his shoulder. (She strong, though.)

Suguru exhales. (She feral, though.)

Across the fire, his mate is crouched like Mowgli, gnawing on a bone.

Your cult is cheering.

Suguru puts his face in his hands.

He used to be normal.

Now he is simply...

Husband.

Gojo’s suffering suddenly makes sense.

---

Suguru has ascended.

Something in him has snapped.

It happened slowly.

At first, he fought it.

Fought you.

Fought the fact that his mate was a lawless, uncivilized, bone-hoarding gremlin of the forest who did not know how mating worked and thought biting was a love language.

But then—

Then he saw the truth.

His tribe worshipped you.

They admired your strength.

They copied your ways.

They offered you food, furs, weapons, praying that you would bless their hunts.

And something inside Suguru cracked open like a mammoth skull under a club.

He understood now.

You were more than just a person.

You were a divine force of nature.

A living legend.

A feral, tree-dwelling deity who crawled in circles and hunted with your teeth.

And if his people wanted to worship you—

Then Suguru would lead them.

So he did what any genocidal c-word leader would do. (You can decide if it’s Cunty or Cultist.)

Called the first sermon.

The tribe gathers.

Suguru stands before them, arms crossed, towering over his people like a true prophet.

You sit behind him on a large rock, gnawing on a raw deer leg like a wolf.

He turns to his people.

Eyes serious.

Voice deep.

(We were blind.)

The tribe nods solemnly.

(We did not see. We did not know.)

The tribe grumbles in agreement.

But now—now they understand.

Now they see your power.

The Huntress.

The Wild One.

The Unwashed.

The Bringer of Bones.

You pause your gnawing. Blink. Tilt your head. (…Huh?)

Suguru ignores you.

(Our hunts are greater. Our strength has grown. Our enemies fear us. Because of you.)

The tribe cheers.

You scratch your ear with your foot like a dog.

Suguru nods sagely. (Yes. Witness your divinity.)

The people weep.

---

The tribe transforms overnight.

They copy you.

They crawl on all fours before hunting.

They eat raw meat.

They hoard bones.

Suguru preaches your teachings.

(Do not fear hunger. Hunt like the goddess—silent, deadly, with your hands.)

The people nod reverently.

(Do not waste food. The goddess eats all—bone, flesh, even eyeballs.)

The people wail in agreement.

(Do not bathe—)

Suguru pauses.

Then glances at you, who are currently biting your own toenails.

(…No. Bathe. The goddess was reborn through water. Follow this path.)

The people cheer.

You grumble. (Water stupid.)

Suguru ignores you.

You do not need to understand.

You only need to exist.

The people will worship.

And he?

He will lead.

---

But there are a few traitors.

Gojo, Toji, Sukuna, and Nanami do not believe.

Neither do their mates.

They watch in horror as their people lose their minds.

Toji glares at Suguru. (You serious?)

Suguru crosses his arms. (Yes.)

Gojo wheezes. (Bro. Bro. You started a cult around your Mowgli cave-wife.)

Suguru nods solemnly. (Yes, she divine.)

Sukuna bares his teeth. (She bit me last week.)

Suguru smirks. (She was testing you. You failed.)

Sukuna sputters. (FAILED? FAILED WHAT? I AM KING.)

Suguru shrugs. (Not her king.)

Sukuna almost explodes.

Nanami scoffs. (She’s are just a person.)

Suguru laughs.

Laughs darkly.

(She is more than a person. She is a force. A legend. A living god.)

Nanami pinches the bridge of his nose.

Gojo shakes his head. (You’ve lost it. You’re done, bro.)

Suguru simply grins.

(I have seen the light.)

Toji points at you, who are currently chasing a chicken with Suguru’s old loincloth.

(This? This is the light?)

Suguru nods.

(The brightest.)

The doubters sigh.

They know they cannot convince him.

He is gone.

Too deep.

Too devoted.

Too in love.

---

The final moment of devotion comes when Suguru declares—

(A great offering must be made. A true shrine must be built.)

The tribe agrees.

They gather bones.

They carve a giant statue of you.

They bring forth gifts of raw meat, spears, and animal pelts.

You tilt your head. Blink. (Why?)

Suguru kneels before you.

(Because you are our goddess.)

You scratch your chin.

(But I just... live here.)

Suguru nods reverently.

(Yes. Exactly.)

You squint. (This normal?)

Suguru smiles.

(Nothing about you is normal.)

You grin.

Then pounce on him.

Suguru laughs, accepting his fate.

The people cheer.

Gojo, Toji, Sukuna, and Nanami watch in horror.

The cult has won.

---

Suguru is furious.

Not normal furious.

Not mild annoyance.

Not Gojo-stole-my-food-again angry.

No.

Real anger. Primal anger.

Because Gojo has challenged him.

Because his mate is being ogled.

Because Gojo is the reason for both.

It happened during the Great Gathering—a time when all the strongest tribes meet, trade, and flex their best fighters like mating peacocks.

Suguru’s feral goddess is, unfortunately, a spectacle.

You are naked. Always.

Not because you want to be seen, but because you do not believe in clothes.

(You tried wearing fur once. Said it felt like a dead rat on your back. Bit it. Threw it in the fire. Refused to wear anything since.)

Suguru accepts this.

The tribe worships this.

Other men?

They stare.

And Suguru sees red.

---

Gojo, as always, is the problem.

Gojo grins. (Your mate famous, huh?)

Suguru grunts. (Of course. She divine.)

Gojo tilts his head. (Divine… and naked.)

Suguru growls.

Gojo snickers. (Just saying. Maybe mate should wear something.)

Suguru glares. (Why? Fear your power? Feel inferior? Her loin hair longer than yours?)

Gojo snorts. (No. I just think you’re mad because men look at her.)

Suguru’s eye twitches.

Gojo grins wider. (Oh. So that’s it.)

Suguru’s grip tightens on his spear. (You challenge me?)

Gojo laughs. (I breathe, and you take it as a challenge.)

Suguru throws his spear at him.

It is a battle of gods.

The two strongest men in the valley.

The two greatest hunters.

The two biggest dumbasses.

They charge.

Gojo swings his club—Suguru dodges.

Suguru throws a rock—Gojo catches it in his teeth and spits it back.

They clash, grunt, snarl, and headbutt like savage beasts.

Men cheer.

Women bet furs.

Children chant.

Their mates?

They watch.

You crouch on a rock, chewing on bark.

Gojo’s mate sits nearby, fixing his fur pelt.

She sighs. (They do this every time.)

You grunt. (Why?)

Gojo’s mate shrugs. (Suguru mad. Gojo dumb.)

You tilt your head. (Gojo mate smart. Why take dumb mate?)

Gojo’s mate smirks. (Because he strong and smart but not smarter than me.)

You grin, eyes sparkling. (Yes. Best.)

You both chuckle in agreement.

Gojo and Suguru?

Still fighting.

Gojo finally pins Suguru down.

Leans over. Smirks.

(Say it. Say I win.)

Suguru snarls. (Never.)

Gojo leans closer. Mocking.

(Just admit I’m—)

And then—

A rock flies out of nowhere.

Hits Gojo square in the head.

Everyone stops.

Silence.

Gojo blinks.

Looks up.

Sees you.

Crouched on a ledge.

Grinning.

Holding another rock.

You cock your arm back.

Gojo’s eyes widen. (WAIT—)

BONK!!!

Gojo goes down.

Flat.

Suguru grins. (My mate best.)

The crowd roars. (Toji grones; he lost chicken over this bet.)

---

Suguru sits by the fire.

He is sore.

He is bleeding.

But he is victorious.

You sit beside him, preening like a smug cat.

Gojo?

Gojo is lying face-down in the dirt, still twitching.

Toji, Nanami, and Sukuna stand over him.

Toji pokes him with a stick. (He dead?)

Nanami sighs. (No. He just stupid.)

Sukuna shrugs. (Should’ve fought better.)

Gojo’s mate comes over, making baby noises at him.

He makes a crying face and shoves his face in her breasts.

She coos to him, and Gojo smirks smugly at the men around him when she’s not looking.

Suguru exhales.

Gojo will live.

But his victory is secured.

You are his.

His tribe is strong.

His cult thrives.

And as the fire crackles, and you bite his shoulder in affection, Suguru knows one thing for certain.

He is the luckiest bastard alive.

---

A/N: Drop your answer in the comments, or I swear, I will make Choso explain his mating techniques in full detail next chapter. (Next up,, I'm thinking of doing Choso next; what do you guys think?)

All Works Masterlist

[joelsprettyprincess]

Sharing is Caring

Pairing: Joel Miller + Arthur Morgan + Simon 'Ghost' Riley + John Price x f!reader Wordcount: 2k Tags: Extremely explicit smut, kind of dubcon (consent is assumed), oral, anal, piv (protected, for once), free-use, slight daddy kink, five(?)some, it's not poly they're just running a train on her. A/N: Okay. Um. Not sure what happened, I meant to write a little BLURB about this and it turned into a whole thing. Anyway..I tried to do it in a different style; it's kind of fragmented, instead of a proper story. Also this is very nasty. Like, REALLY nasty. I fear this is even more self-indulgent than my Dutch x reader fic, but I hope you guys enjoy anyway!! And MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!! FOCUS ON YOUR ALGEBRA HOMEWORK 😒

joel preps you a couple hours beforehand. takes you over the knee, and fingers you till you're blubbering and begging him to stopkeep going. he slowly stretches out both your holes with plenty of lube. once he's got you properly ready, he slides a cute bejeweled buttplug between your asscheeks to make it...easier, later on. the hot pink heart winks up at him.

he has you greet his friends with him at the door. you've never seen them before, but they know you. you and your pretty body, your soft lips, your ass that hides the curve of your cunt. oh, yes, they know you, courtesy of the souvenir photos joel takes when you're cockdrunk and passed out.

they file in, one by one, big hulking figures. arthur, the freelance artist, who's already eyeing your curves, barely hidden by the tiny skirt joel put you in. you try fruitlessly to pull it down as he passes by. next is simon, or ghost, as he tells you to call him. an ex-military man who's even bigger than joel, with eyes like a wolf. "you look good enough to eat," he tells you.

"later," joel promises.

last is john, who you actually have met before. occasionally, when joel is in the mood to share, he invites him over for some fun– the fun being you. you'd had his cock stuffed down your throat at least half a dozen times. "hello again, love," he greets you, patting your head. you smile bashfully, already starting to get wet (thanks to the aphrodisiac joel had slipped into your food earlier). he was always kind to you, even more than joel sometimes.

the men all sit on the L-shaped couch– there's a big game today, or something. joel sits you between him and john, while arthur and ghost sit on the other side. "get us a beer, honey," joel says. when you get up to fetch them, john slaps your ass as you walk by. the men chuckle when you squeak.

you collect 4 beers and carry them in your arms back to the living room. after distributing them, the men focus on the hockey game, but john won't leave you alone. he lets his large hand rest on your thigh, then creeps it closer to your fluttering cunt. you push it away, but it's only a few seconds before he's invading your space again. you whine quietly, and joel notices. "leave her alone," he chides. "all in good time."

joel leaves to use the bathroom, leaving you alone with 2 strangers and john. arthur immediately slides over. "joel's told us a lot about you," he says, giving you a smile that reveals a hint of his canines. "oh," you say wondrously. you wonder what he's said. you wonder how arthur's chest looks under his slightly too-tight shirt.

"you like living here with 'im?" he asks. "y'know, if he's treating you wrong you could stay with me." he chuckles. you shake your head. "i like it here," you tell him. "he does everything for me." now ghost is closing in, unashamedly staring at your breasts. "real cute outfit you got on," he comments. you feel self-conscious in your tiny black tank top and short pink skirt. "daddy picked it out for me," you explain, referring to joel.

just then, joel comes back, and scolds the men, who've surrounded you as if you're their prey. "get off her– I told you all in good time, didn't I?"

"we've barely got to see her, what with you and john squishing her," arthur complains. ghost nods in agreement. "come sit by us, sweetheart, let us have a look at you." you look at joel for permission, and he nods, sighing. you switch places, now sitting between arthur and ghost.

after a while the men start to talk, about sports, about their friends...about women. joel tells them all about how obedient you are, how it took no time at all to mold you into his perfect stupid fuckdollgirlfriend. your face grows hot and you smile at the floor, embarrassed. it's not helping that arthur's been kneading your breast for the last 10 minutes and your panties are becoming soaked.

by this time all the men except joel have downed 2 or 3 beers, and they're getting handsier. ghost has been tracing circles on your thigh, 'accidentally' letting his fingers go up your skirt and graze the edge of your panties.

the men all silently exchange glances, unseen by you, and abruptly stand up. arthur pulls you along to the dining room, where the table has been cleared off. only a thin blanket remains on it...wait, what? you squeal in surprise as arthur easily lifts you and places you face down, ass up on the table.

the men surround you with hungry looks on their faces. "now, gentlemen, let me remind you of the rules," joel speaks. "don't hog a hole, everyone will have a turn. clean yourself off if you're going ass to mouth. use a condom, she's not on the pill. and simon, I know how you are with anal. be gentle. in fact, all of you, don't hurt her too badly."

"i want her ass first," arthur announces, already pulling down his pants. he flips up your skirt, and inhales sharply when he sees the heart-shaped outline of your buttplug against your light blue panties. he makes short work of your panties, tugging at them so urgently that they rip and fall onto the blanket in tatters.

the rest of the men quickly pull off their pants as well, eager to claim a hole. it's a bit daunting, staring at three muscular men who are hellbent on taking their stress out on your poor holes. joel allows his guests to pick first– ghost rests his thick cock against your lips. your tongue instinctively darts out to get a taste, before you can stop yourself.

"i haven't had the pleasure of her cunt in weeks," john sighs. he elbows arthur out of the way, and the two of them tap and stroke their tips against your two tight holes. arthur slowly pulls out your buttplug, and you whine loudly at the stretch. your hole is left gaping, the perfect opportunity for him to slide in. you grip the table and moan into the blanket, keeping your legs opened as wide as possible to accommodate him.

john puts on a condom and easily slides into your pussy, sticky and sopping with your own arousal. tears prick at your fluttering eyes as the two men stuff you full of cock. you stick your tongue out, overcome with need.

ghost pushes your mouth onto his cock, and you start sucking like the tip is made of candy. joel stands to the side, grabs your hand, and uses it to pump his throbbing shaft.

"she's so fuckin' tight," arthur grunts out, barely even halfway in your ass. he's right, you're gripping his cock like you need it to survive. he places both hands on your asscheeks, stroking and slapping them as he slowly moves in and out. john's just beside him, thrusting into your tight sticky cunt– the sounds are driving him crazy. your slightly pained groans, the creamy schwelp schwelp of your pussy– oh, he missed this.

ghost is the first to cum. driven crazy by your tongue slurping every inch of his cock and the feel of your plush lips practically sealing it in your mouth, he holds you by the hair and jerks off till thick globs and ropes of cum land on your face. he puts his tip against your tongue and finishes his release there, leaving a big puddle which you promptly swallow.

soon after, arthur cums, spreading your cheeks and keeping them still while he dumps a hot, thick load in your ass. it leaks out even while he's still inside you, dripping down to your pussy. "fuck, honey..." he mutters, pulling out. he observes your winking hole, already getting hard again.

ghost takes his place. he barely stops to clean up arthur's mess; just wipes off the excess with a paper towel and pushes his once-again stiff cock in your ass. you cry out, still sensitive from the stretch of arthur before. arthur's cum oozes out of you with every thrust.

john is still jackhammering your pretty pussy, and he's close. he presses himself balls deep inside you, and you can feel his cock twitching as he cums inside the condom. it could be the aphrodisiac, but the thought of him possibly knocking you up makes you twice as wet. he pulls out and fingers your spasming cunt, encouraging you to cum. you whine and moan loudly as arthur, who's just finished cleaning off his cock, slides his shaft between your puffy lips. your eyes roll, and you cum hard, squirting on john's hand and on the blanket. you thrash your legs a bit as john refuses to let up, and keeps fingering your extremely sensitive pussy.

joel finally reaches his peak as well, shooting a thick rope onto your hand, then getting closer and glazing your already cum-covered face with even more. some of it gets in your hair, which he knows you hate. his cum oozes down your face, and you can feel it sliding down to your right eye. he and john switch places, with john making you cradle his balls, while joel whistles when he sees the mess that your pussy is. he's the only one that can go bareback, the only one that's able to cum inside you. and he intends on doing exactly that.

joel wastes no time and pushes into your still-recovering pussy, watching your slightly swollen lips automatically grip him. you're still sticky with arousal, and it coats his cock. "you love being passed around by daddy's friends?" he mutters, smacking your ass. "you want 'em all to have a turn in this sweet pussy?" you can't answer, as arthur's got his cock in your mouth. but you whine, and if the sound of your creamy pussy is any indicator, you love this.

the men all take turns in your various holes, dumping load after load in your ass, in your mouth, and on your face. only joel cums straight in your pussy, but the others make up for it by covering your body with their hot loads. you cum more times than you can count, and by the end, the air smells of lust and sweat.

after they've all been fully satisfied, then men step back and survey their handiwork. your face is completely covered with multiple loads that are dripping off your face. your right eye is closed; you're unable to open it because of the cum that joel deposited on your eyelid. your lips are pink and puffy, and your tongue hangs out, tired after coaxing so many loads out of the men.

your asscheeks are also glazed with cum, and even your back has some white ropes. your ass is gaping, with cum oozing out of it. several used condoms have been thrown haphazardly on your body, mostly on your back.

and finally, your poor pussy. though it had the least amount of cum, it had taken the most abuse; all of the men had bullied your cunt into multiple orgasms, and now there's a puddle of arousal underneath you. joel's cum leaks from between your pussy lips onto the blanket.

your head lays on the table– you don't have the strength to even look up anymore.

"fuckin' beautiful," john says quietly, and the men agree. they all clean themselves off and get redressed, then joel coaxes you off the table. you stumble, then right yourself. more cum oozes out of your ass onto the floor. "'s okay, c'mon," he says, holding you by your left hand– maybe the only place on your whole body that hasn't been glazed.

the men watch you leave. your ass jiggles a bit, and arthur sighs. "we've got to come back, and soon."

[love-byers]

You can tell that some Milkvan’s have never had someone they’re close to come out to them before because Mike’s whole storyline is exactly like watching someone in your friend group or your family slowly figure out their sexuality. We don’t have the full picture and we’re not going to until he allows it. I think Milkvan’s expect him to be more obvious or something if he was queer but those people seem to forget that he’s a gay kid in the 80’s. This isn’t some Love, Simon-esque film where the whole school is going to clap for him when he finally comes out and gets the guy. It’s gonna be more like pitchforks and torches all “hunt the freak” like they did to Eddie. It was scary when I came out in 2018. It’s still nerve racking to come out now in 2025. In the 80’s, I can imagine it would feel absolutely terrifying just to think that you might be different than those around you. You have no one to turn to or confide in. Any library article or newspaper would be filled with horrifying details, slurs, death, or just spewing some religious bullshit. Nothing helpful or positive. Theres no GSA at school. There’s no nice queer corner of the internet with a helpful “Am I gay quiz?” like in Heartstopper. Just a kid with confusing feelings in a homophobic town with no one to guide him. Mike’s story is the most genuine depiction of internalized homophobia I’ve ever seen in a character. Mike and Will’s love story is beautiful and honest and I wish more people would open their eyes and see it instead of blindly believing in a story that has already been told time and time again. Representation matters. Good representation matters more. Calling us delusional just fuels the problem.

yes yes yes

most of the toxic milevens i encounter are extremely ignorant to the queer experience and queer history. they don't understand just how dangerous it was for gay men in the 80s, and they have no sensitivity towards it. i saw one in a tiktok comment section say "if mike is gay why would he date a girl instead of will??" ...........................

they don't understand that will is representing a very significant aspect of the 80s, that ofc being queerness during the aids epidemic. they've acknowledged that will has been called slurs TO HIS FACE since he was a small child. the whole town assumed he had been HATE CRIMED. they've reinforced it to the point that it would be DIABOLICAL to give will a sad or bitter sweet ending. because they didn't just make him gay, he had to be in love with mike too. they've shown that will has been called queer his entire life, before he even met mike. his love for mike wasn't used to reveal his sexuality, they did that through the bullying and moments like the girl playing footsie with him in s4. his feelings for mike were not necessary. will's arc could've simply been about him being afraid that his friends won't accept him and masking it to them and mike for that reason. but no, on top of everything else, he had to be in love with mike. like im sorry but getting rejected would contribute absolutely nothing to his arc

also, will and mike are interesting as queer characters (assuming mike is queer ofc) because they are representing the different kind of experiences. will is queer, and the world assumed he was queer too. mike is queer, but the world assumed he was straight. it is unfortunately easier to realize your sexuality when you've had it spouted in your face since you were a small child. we haven't really been shown that will struggled to realize or accept his sexuality at any point. the only person with that coding is mike wheeler. who, like i said, the world (for the most part) assumed was straight. it is a different experience when you have no one pointing it out like will did, mike realizing his sexuality has to come completely from his own internal battle. and it's really difficult, especially given that mike was deep into a relationship when he realized, or at least started suspecting it. mike was the one being weird at the airport and rink o mania because he's in crisis mode internally. will isn't, will knows who he is and has probably known it in some way for a while. that just isn't mike's experience, so of course it will be different for him. milevens think that because he wasn't portrayed exactly how will was queer coding wise means that he's not gay. like i said, they have little understanding of the queer experience it seems

[acourtofthought]

Already sent this too another blog but I want to hear your opinion too. I just listened to an ACOTAR podcast with SJM’s friend in it( The one that wears glasses and usually does interviews with her) and they were talking about possible endgames for Elain in the podcast.

They said they don’t think with the way the books are going that Lucien and Elain will end up together. One of them even said that before she had an active elucien blog on tumblr, but she too agreed that she doesn’t think elucien will happen after their scenes in SF and FAS.

And when they were talking about the endgames for Elain they mentioned Eris and another character, I think tarquin or something. But they were both strong on the possibility of Eris which was crazy to me then. However, thinking about it now and considering how Eris, out of no where, suddenly played a huge role in ACOSF, and SJM hinting that he is about to get the Rhys treatment I am worried.

Especially with the way SJM was giddy talking about writing Eris in SF interviews and then mentioning that she’s planning stuff for Mor Azriel and Elain but never Lucien, and the set up for the renaming books, being two couples and one novella. Plus they both agree that elriel isn’t happening, and they think gwynriel is a huge possibility. I am just thinking that if gwynriel happens and Lucien doesn’t end up with Elain that rules out a book for him and that makes me so sad because IMO I think out of all the remaining characters he deserves a book the most. 😭😭 if Lucien doesn’t get a book it would break my heart.

Sorry for the long ask.

Hi there! I think Steph and Ava are a riot when they're together on their podcast. I also think it's possible Steph may know more than she lets on within her podcast. With that said, though, I often do not buy the theories Steph and Ava have come up with / talked about because there have been a few times where their knowledge of what actually happened in the books is lacking. And no shade to them, they are both extremely busy with many other things and SJM is not the only author the read / talk about. I don't think they obsess over all things SJM the way we do in the fandom (a good thing since Steph is friends with Sarah, you want a friend - not necessarily a fan girl). However, when Ava said she couldn't even remember that Elain stabbed the king and Steph said she thinks Sarah is going to write a throuple for Lucien and that he's got so much story to tell but she's not sure how we're going to get to that until he and Elain settle their bond, it did have me questioning them as a true resource of what to expect. Listen, I LOVE LOVE LOVE Lucien and I'm so excited for his story but even I know that Lucien is not taking center stage to Elain. It's an odd take to think that Lucien's got this big arc ahead of him but the only small pesky thing standing in the way of that is Elain needing to break their bond and once that's done we can move forward with him. At this point, I do have to question anyone thinking Gwynriel is 120% endgame while also believing Elain and Lucien are probably not happening. I actually don't remember them saying Eris or Tarquin are romantic possibilities for Elain but I don't think there's anything to support those statements even if they did. Eris is showing remorse for the state of his relationship with Lucien, I definitely don't see him ending up with his mate. Also, there are zero hints that Elain would end up in the Autumn Court. As far as Tarquin, Elain has literally never met him and I've got no idea what plot people are coming up with for her to meet and then fall in love with him. Sarah did talk of how she discussed what plans she had for Elain, and for Mor, and for Az. And while she didn't mention Lucien in that moment she also didn't mention a female romantic interest for Mor or a romantic interest for Az either. To me, it sort of sounds like Sarah was discussing the "lead" character for a book or spin-off while leaving the love interest a surprise. Honestly, I think the absence of Lucien's name and absence of people discussing the Elucien bond is more telling than if they were being mentioned in conversation together. Elain and Lucien had the most shocking mating bond reveals of any of Sarah's series yet I'm supposed to believe they and their bond rarely come up in any of the more recent interviews Sarah has done? It's one of the bigger unresolved plot-points to date yet it's supposed to be realistic that she's never getting questions on "What will Elain do about her bond?" "Is Lucien getting frustrated by their situation?" "Will Elain ever get to know Lucien?" I remember someone asking something before the novella came out and her response was like, "you might get answers about Elain and her bond" yet all we got was her suddenly ignoring Lucien (and no E/riel lurkers, that is not actually a true decision since Nesta began ignoring Cassian in the same book) but still not rejecting him almost two years later which means the question STILL exists to all readers.

That Elain and Lucien's names are NEVER mentioned in her interviews when they do share a bond makes me think it's intentional on her part, where she said they're off the table during discussions. Which does make sense because if you're going to mate two characters, which seems like an obvious "they're ending up together" setup, it's a smart move to have Elain ignoring him in the book and completely shut down the conversation surrounding them outside of it so it will read as more of a surprise to some. Definitely to many E/riels who are convinced we're delusional to believe Elain and Lucien could still happen.

[thefriendlydragonx]

Minthara x Karlach, Minthara realising being soft doesn't make you weak and seeing how strong Karlach must be for still being capable of being soft after 10 years in the hells. Then Minthara learning to be soft with snuggles with Karlach, a bit of processing how fucked up menzoberranzan was. Mainly Minthara snuggling with Karlach when Karlach doesn't expect it.

I love this prompt so much thank you anon!!! It gave me brainworms I had so many ideas. Karlach x Minthara soft moments make me so happyyy 💜

~~~~

The party had made camp for the night, deep within the shadow cursed lands. They had just recently gained a new member, Minthara. Not many took an immediate liking to her, and the feeling was mutual. However, there was Karlach, who Minthara seemed to respect. They were sat next to each other on a log in camp, the rest of the party a noticeable distance away from the drow.

Minthara didn't say much, instead carefully eating the food that had been provided to her- she had filled her own bowl, of course, and only began to eat a few minutes after everyone else- and listened to the conversations being had. She learned much about her companions through light banter and quips, things she would never share openly around a stranger so soon. She learned of Shar worship, explosive orbs, vampiric tendencies… What caught her attention most, however, was Karlach regaling the camp with a story of her time in the Hells.

“You are strong to have faced the Hells and still come back.”

It was the first thing Minthara had said all night and everyone's gazes shifted uncomfortably to her. Well, almost everyone's. Karlach looked at her with a smile.

“Thanks, soldier! It was rough, but hey- If I didn't survive, I wouldn't have met all of you!”

This reply surprised Minthara. Even after so much time in the Hells, Karlach was still able to trust, to appreciate friendship, to feel her emotions freely. These were luxuries Minthara herself could not afford.

The companions finished their food and the chatter died down as they all retreated to their bunks for the night. Minthara sat by the fire still, feeling safe from a point where she could see anyone coming.

“You can't sleep either?” Karlach was still next to her, the only one remaining.

“I do not sleep easily around those I do not know.”

Karlach frowned. “You know us!”

“Hardly. I know you rescued me from Moonrise, and I know that you openly share information that you should not. Beyond that, I do not know your plans with me. It is likely you will leave me after the defeat of the Absolute- if not before.” This to say, she was not going to get close. Everyone in the camp would be held at arm’s length, including Tav, even though they asked so many questions about her.

“Aw, c’mon, Minthy!” Karlach moved closer. Minthara wrinkled her nose at the nickname, but the tiefling did not seem to care. She was already insisting to tell Minthara another tale from the Hells, saying it would help them get to know each other. The drow relented.

As Karlach spoke of her time in war, Minthara found her appreciation growing. She was strong, fearless in battle, and had been through things Minthara could not imagine. Yet, despite all this, she was here. Talking with Minthara as though they were old friends, regaling her with a story of killing demons. She was here, an endlessly loyal friend to people she had only met less than a month ago. A friend to Minthara, whom she had only met a few days ago. Friend… Those didn't come easily to her. What was so different about this tiefling?

“How are you so kind, after all you have been through?” Minthara questioned as Karlach finished her tale.

“I'm kind because of all I've been through. When you've seen what I have, you know it's better to have friends and people to rely on. Like this camp. We're your people now, Minthara.”

Her response made something within the drow flicker, a part of her stone-cold resolve melting away. Karlach was so formidable in battle, yet here she was, wearing her heart on her sleeve outside of it. In fact, her softness made her stronger. In the Underdark, such displays of emotion were a ticket to death.

“I do not think the others believe they can trust me.”

Before Minthara could react, Karlach pulled her into a one armed side hug. From this position, they were both vulnerable to one another. Yet something about it felt comforting. The drow told herself it was simply the warmth of the other woman against the chill of the night air.

“Well, I trust you.”

Minthara wrapped her arms around Karlach’s torso, much to the tiefling’s surprise, and rested her head against her shoulder. How one could trust so easily was not something she would pretend to understand, not yet. It meant she had a safety net, however, and she felt comfortable to rest for the first time in days. Had she been home, being this close to someone she barely knew would have meant a dagger in the back. Yet, she felt at ease here, comfortable in the knowledge that Karlach would fight for her should a problem arise. Comfortable that she would do the same for Karlach.

~~~~

I hope y'all like it!! :) I thought this one was a really cute prompt, I hope I did it justice ahah 💜

[ambiguous-avery]

Pick Your Poison³

S1!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 2541

Summary: Seven years is a lot to catch up on all in one night. But there’s a lot that can be said without words alone.

Tags/Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, unprotected P in V sex (make safe decisions, friends), femme nicknames (pretty girl), g/n nicknames (baby, sweetheart), reader is AFAB, no use of Y/N, fluff, no beta we die like men

Now Playing: Pick Your Poison by Knox

A/N: And it turned into a 3-parter. Sorry, not sorry. Finally a conclusion and a bit of happiness for our boy! @wendichester, here's a tag for the conclusion. Took the drink from the Supernatural Official Cocktail Book (that I totally didn't buy just for this story 😉 If anyone is interested, it's the "Still Kicking" drink) Read Part 1 and Part 2!

Dean had never been more motivated to wrap up a case in his entire life. He almost felt bad that people dying hadn’t lit the fire under his ass in the same way your offer had. You hadn’t so much as stoked his motivation. Rather, you had thrown gasoline straight onto it, causing it to roar and flare, and Dean was sure it had rivaled the fire from the salt and burn job. He had unceremoniously dropped Sam off at the motel that night, telling Sam that he’d be back in the morning. Maybe. Maybe early afternoon. He wasn’t entirely sure. Sam had just rolled his eyes at him.

He pulled up to the bar just as you stepped out of the front door, and he waved you over. You whistled and took a seat in the Impala.

“You really know how to charm a woman, pretty boy.” You set your purse down in the footwell and looked at him. He was ready for your gaze this time around, and instead of knocking him off balance, he met it with an equal intensity that charged the air in the car. Your look carried your burning curiosity, but there was still that unending compassion in your eyes that he remembered seeing years ago. He had seen some pretty awful things in the world. They had left him calloused and jaded. But you? He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened in those same seven years that had shaped you into the person that was before him now. Someone with eyes that could cut someone down or comfort them and had no troubles switching between the two.

“Only the ones I like,” Dean finally responded. You chuckled. 

The only thing easier than the drive back to your apartment was the conversation that flowed between the two of you. You told Dean about things that had happened since you last saw him. You graduated from college with a degree that was about as useless as the paper it was printed on when it came to applying for jobs in your chosen field. Several failed relationships back to back had left you happily single, and overall, it sounded like things in your life were relatively okay. Good but not great. He wanted to dig a little more. Wanted to ask about all the little details you glossed over. But it hardly felt like his place to know. When you directed the conversation spotlight onto his life, he gave vague answers and brushed over large swaths of his time away. Dean could see the way your eyes implored him to give more detail. Implored him to spill all the secrets that were fighting to spill from his lips. He bit them back.

Dean took a seat at the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living room space in your apartment. It was a nice little place, but he could tell by the scattered boxes that you were either still moving in or maybe getting ready to move out. He wasn’t sure which it was.

“If I remember correctly, I’m pretty sure I still owe you a drink.” He watched as you pulled several liquor bottles from the cupboards and set them down between the two of you, reminding him of times long past. Though the liquor here was much more expensive this time around, he noted.

“What can you make?” He flashed you a grin. You winked back at him.

“I could make you a drink that reminds me of this guy I hooked up with in college,” you said cheekily, locking eyes with him. He arched an eyebrow, intrigued.

“Alright, let’s see what that’s like.”

Dean was regretting that he hadn’t been able to watch you work behind the bar earlier in the evening, but he was making up plenty for it now. Watching you move was something else. You had your own bar setup. It was less professional than the one you had at work, but it did the job nonetheless. With a cocktail glass filled with ice set in front of you, you grabbed a bottle of rye in one hand and a jigger in the other before upending the bottle with a bit of flair. The alcohol splashed into the cup as you dumped it before you tossed the jigger from one hand and into the other, catching it with two fingers before setting both the whiskey and the jigger down. Dean whistled.

“Flashier than I remember.”

“I’ve had a few years to practice.”

It was mesmerizing to watch, even though everything you did was relatively mundane. Sure, you had fancy tricks that made every moment seem more extravagant, but Dean had the distinct feeling that he was only as interested in the process of drink making because it was you making the drink. Two dashes of bitters went in next. Hell, even when you popped open the can of ginger beer, his eyes were drawn to your fingers. It was a simple thing, but Dean watched like it was the most riveting thing he could set his eyes on. You carefully cut into a lemon and sliced away the skin before wrapping it around your finger and letting it slide into the drink. You set it on a napkin in front of him with a flourish, and Dean thought that that was what love felt like.

It wasn’t a grandiose display of affection with dramatic declarations or sweeping gestures. It wasn’t the whispered honeyed words exchanged in the intimacy of night. It wasn’t even those three little words. Instead, it was found in the quiet, steady confidence that radiated from you. It was in the way your eyes settled on him, brimming with an unspoken understanding, as if you were acutely aware of every struggle and triumph that had shaped his journey to this moment. And it was in the soft, gentle curve of your smile, a tender expression that conveyed more than words ever could.

“Drink up, pretty boy. If you like it enough, maybe it’ll become the Dean Winchester special at the bar.” He laughed and picked up the glass, brought it to his lips, and took a long, slow drink from it. His first cocktail, and it was going to be named after him. It was a simple drink with only three ingredients that he saw you put in, not counting the twist of lemon. But the spicy rye mixed well with the sharp ginger beer that kicked at the end. He liked it.

You had already set about mixing up the same drink for yourself, emptying the can of ginger beer into your own glass.

“This is what you think I’m like?” he asked. Your eyes twinkled with the same teenaged mischief that had drawn him in the first time.

“I think you’re better. But this is a close second.”

“Damn, I’m smooth.” He laughed, clinking his glass with yours before you both drank. There was a beat of silence. “Humor me for a moment, sweetheart. Do you really remember me from those years ago?” You set your glass down on the counter and leaned back, crossing your arms as you thought. Dean watched the way the light from the kitchen overhead caught in your hair, casting shadows on the curve of your cheek. He wanted to hold it, feel your skin beneath his fingers again.

“I remember more about you now than I did back then, if that makes any sense,” you finally said, a small smile playing on your lips. “Back then, you were just another guy at the frat. A little mysterious, a little dangerous.” Dean chuckled at that.

“And now?”

“Now?” The ice cubes clinked in your glass as you picked it up, regarding him with a thoughtful expression. “I see a man with fire in his eyes and a heart burdened by a darkness he can’t shake.”

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. How? How did you understand him in a way that no one else seemed to? He had spent so long closing himself off from others, from forming connections that could be ripped away in an instant by the cruel hand of fate. But when his eyes found yours again, there was a warmth in them that made Dean’s chest tighten. Your perceptiveness was something he was unfamiliar with. You maybe had a collective five hours of getting to know him and already you could strip away the layers he had carefully placed around him. That disarming gaze of yours was both terrifying and liberating. He didn’t feel like he had to put on a performance. Didn’t have to put up a facade. He had never felt so seen.

You stepped around the counter, drawing in close to him. He could feel electricity crackle between the two of you, and he turned to face you. You settled between his parted legs, the heat of your body mingling with his. He could feel his heart drumming in his chest, the intoxicating scent of your perfume filling his senses. Your hand lifted to trace a line along his jaw, your touch feather-light yet searing all the same.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly, and Dean knew what you meant. Knew that you were asking about more than just his physical safety. You were asking about the storm that raged inside him. The storm that darkened his thoughts and kept his heart heavy. Dean searched your eyes, finding concern and genuine care there, and for a moment, he let himself believe that maybe he could share some of his burden with you.

“I’m…” he hesitated. He had spent so long tamping everything down that he wasn’t sure he could even find the right words for what he felt. “I’m trying to be.” The words were so simple, but it felt like a crack had split down the center of the wall he had spent years carefully building up. Your thumb brushed against his cheek lightly, a silent gesture of support that anchored him in the moment.

“I can see that,” you muttered softly. “It’s okay not to be okay all the time.” The weight of those words settled over Dean like a warm blanket, offering comfort in a way he hadn’t realized he needed. And then, without another word, Dean closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a gentle yet achingly tender kiss. It was soft and sweet, a silent confession of all the things he couldn’t find the words to say.

You led him to your room before long. It was a slow, sensual flurry of messy kisses, fingers tracing along heated skin, and sweet nothings gasped into existence as the two of you undressed. His back hit your mattress as you straddled his hips.

“Let me take you for a ride, hm?” You placed a hand on his chest, steadying yourself as you sank down on him. Dean groaned, low and throaty, as you took him inch by agonizing inch. Adoration shone in his green eyes which were wide and unblinking, not wanting to miss a single second of the moment. You looked down at him, eyes half-lidded and moaning at the feel of him. Dean didn’t fuck like he hunted. On a hunt, he was quick, efficient, get in-get out, take no prisoners. But in this moment, he was perfectly content to let you take the reins and drag the night on as long as you’d like. And drag the night out, you did. You braced your hands against his chest, your nails digging into his skin. He only offered a guttural sound as your hips sat flush against his, his cock pressed against the deepest part of you. You answered him with a whimper.

You set a slow, torturous pace, and every one of Dean’s coherent thoughts slipped further and further away with each roll of your hips. When he looked up at you, you were the only one in the world anymore. His jaw went slack, lips parted as he settled his hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing against the jut of the bone there.

“Dean,” you breathed, “Fuck, Dean...”

“Go ahead, pretty girl,” he mumbled, his words beginning to bleed into each other. “Take what you need.” And that was all you needed to hear before you gave into your own selfish desire to ride him exactly the way you wanted. Your chest heaved as your breaths became more ragged, your movements stuttering.

“More.” You ground your hips against him, searching for more of that delicious friction. Dean thrust upwards into you, using his hold on your hips as leverage, and you yelped in surprise. He shifted and moved one hand to your shoulder, pulling you to him. You leaned forward, pressing your chest against his, your breaths ghosting over his skin. The new angle caused the length of his cock to drag against your clit with every thrust. Your responding cry was breathless. His fingers dug into your skin, threatening to leave marks in their wake.

“Please, baby. Need you so bad,” he grunted between thrusts. Your name spilled from his lips, and he sounded so utterly wrecked. It was the last piece you needed, and as he seated himself fully into you, you clenched and fluttered around him. He held you close, finding his own release moments after you.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled out of you, and you both laid there for a moment, hearts pounding in sync. Your fingers traced random patterns across his chest as he slowly regained his bearings. Eventually, he rolled onto his side to face you, touching his forehead to yours.

“You’re something else.” He pressed his hand to your cheek. You smiled under his touch, mirth dancing in your eyes.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“I think I owe you a thank you,” Dean said softly.

“For what?”

“You were the first person who ever gave me a way out. Who showed me that I had a choice in everything.” You chuckled.

“I didn’t do anything special, Dean. I just…”

“You did. You don’t realize it.” He reached past you, grabbing for his wallet he had set on your bedside table. You watched him curiously as he opened it and pulled out a worn, yellowed paper that had been folded over a few times.

“Is that-” As he unfolded it, even though the ink had faded over time, ten familiar digits were scrawled in your handwriting.

“My good luck charm,” he boasted. You laughed and rolled on top of him. “Got me through some tough times.”

“That number has been disconnected for years.”

“I know,” he said, a somber tone bleeding into his voice. Your smile faded, and you rested your head against his chest. Dean tucked the paper back into his wallet and tossed it, missing the bedside table. It thumped somewhere along the floor. He wrapped his arms around you, and you melted against him.

“I’ll get you my cell number before you go. Until then, tell me all the things you wanted to say over the years?” And for once, under the cover of night and in the warmth of your embrace, Dean felt safe enough to bare his soul to you.

---

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Dean taglist: @aylacavebear @globetrotter28 @jollyhunter @bettystonewell @supernotnatural2005 @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth

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[songofwizardry]

hey there's a lot of shit out in the world but like. there's also 300k fanfics written as labours of love and exuberant comment threads on art that point out and gush over little details and there's people who spend hours sewing tiny details on their cosplays and there's fragments of poetry that get shared over and over and bring emotions over and over and there's entire communities of people built around 'we loved a story together' or 'we made a story together' and there's people poring over every line in a work and building theories together and there's getting together with your friends to have ridiculous fantasy adventures every week and yeah. there's some good stories here too yknow.

[voyter]

STAGED FOR THE SEASON ! ... christmas special

pairing. jeon jungkook x fem!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then he said this, like it was nothing.  

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

Jungkook shrugged, his expression unreadable. “Well?”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Because he didn’t want to love anyone else.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now, it was your turn to return the favor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, it was her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of the evening unfolds seamlessly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re naked,” you mock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Kookie!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there she was.  

Misa.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s no point in lying anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your brows knit together. "You sure?"

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

You blink, confused. "Do what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, humming softly, your confidence unwavering.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Jungkook doesn't give a fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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