#AND I remembered to pick up my medication!!!!

[gold-onthe-inside]

flu season

who? aaron hotchner (s7) x fem!reader summary: when you catch the same bug that's been going round at jack's school, your favourite person returns the favour to take care of you. content warnings: sickness obv, lots of praise (smart/best girl) word count: 0.8k a/n: wrote this for my best girl @minswriting to help her feel better <3 love you bby ; listened to flu season by koffer

You don’t fall sick that often — your record had been 6 sick days last year — but flu season gets to everyone, especially when you spent the better half of a week taking care of a 10 year old with your boyfriend while he was working on a case. You’d felt the odd tickle of a sneeze but nothing more, and Aaron had shown his gratitude in more ways than one. You didn’t mind, you never minded. Just like Aaron, Jack had made a home for himself in your heart, complete with a pillow fort and all.

Except come Tuesday, you’ve got the same bug he did, waking up much later than you normally did, your whole body aching and sore and your head woozy. There’s no choice, you have to call in sick - for fear you might pass out behind the wheel. You wouldn’t have called him if there was another choice either, but it’s just your luck that you’re out of any medication that might help — no painkillers, no cold syrup, nothing.

He can hear it in your voice, the frail hoarseness to it, the stuffy nose that means your voice is a little more nasally than usual. It’s a no-brainer; he tells Rossi to hold down the fort for a day, to which he receives a knowing smirk, and then he’s out of the office, stopping only at a general store in your neighbourhood to pick up everything you need. He splurges on the hypoallergenic eucalyptus tissues, the softest ones he can find, and strawberry cold syrup because he’d be a lousy profiler to not remember your favourite flavour. The next stop is groceries — chicken, eggs, and vegetables, seeing as you wouldn’t go shopping until Thursday — and then he’s at your apartment, sliding the key you’d given him for emergencies into the door.

You look, and feel, like death warmed up, all laid up on the couch with your red-tinged nose and pale skin, tissues scattered around you. “Hey, honey, how are you feeling?” he asked, instantly making a beeline to kneel at your side. He doesn’t even take off his dress shoes first.

“M sorry,” you managed, reaching out for his handsome face, which he covers with his own large palm, kissing the inside of your wrist.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmured, closing his hand over your hand and frowning with concern. “You do seem a little warm, though. You check your temperature?”

“Mhm, was 100 degrees this morning. Figured I should stay warm.”

“Smart girl,” he praised, pressing his lips to your temple. “Food?”

“Toast and orange juice,” you said, looking at him as he stroked your hair. “Were you very busy?”

“Never too busy to take care of my best girl,” he replied. “Let’s get some medication in you and then you need to rest, okay?”

You nodded, uncaring of how childish you felt yourself being. Not when he was so caring. He measured out the exact dose of cold syrup for you, had you follow it with a painkiller to help with the body ache, praising you the whole time. “Stay with me?” you asked in your sleepy voice, and he can’t say no. You shift to make space for him on the couch, laying your head on his lap, drifting off to his hand stroking your hair.

You stirred a couple hours later, rubbing your eyes groggily as you try to make sense of everything. Aaron’s suit jacket hung on the back of a chair, and the curtains had been drawn to help you sleep better, and you feel too hot in your hoodie and blanket. You pulled off the hoodie, leaving it beside you just as Aaron walked over, carefully holding a tray with bowl of chicken soup.

“This is officially too much,” you said, your voice a little stronger than it had been when he’d come through the door.

“It’s not nearly enough,” he said firmly. “Go on, sit properly.” He waits until you oblige, his look firm, but a fondness in his eyes as you crossed your legs, leaving him plenty of space to sit beside you. He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, drifting down to check your neck. “Not as warm as before, but you can do better,” he said and you pursed your lips at him.

“You may be a boss at work, but you don’t boss me around here, understood?” you told him, threatening him with your spoon and he tried not to laugh.

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, sinking back into the couch while you return your attention to the soup, his hand rubbing your back. “Anything else I can do for you?” he asked, and you know he’s being genuine, because there’s nothing he loves more than being of service.

“You’re here,” you said softly. “That’s enough.” And you mean it, of course. You also make him watch Moulin Rouge, even though he hates watching movies that make you cry, and he doesn’t leave your side, spending the day in his slightly unbuttoned dress shirt and slacks, letting you use him like a large body pillow for the rest of the day.

[rosenclaws]

Do Mutants Dream of Two-Headed Sheep? Prologue || Logan x Cyborg!Reader

Warnings: Body horror, experimentation, reader is in a lot of pain, violence, angst.

a/n: This is the rescue! A preview to the first chapter which should be out sometime next week <3 Short but I hope you enjoy

Series Masterlist

Hurts. Hurts so bad. 

Everything hurts. You can’t feel your hands, your legs. You can’t move. Strapped down with cold leather straps. You try to move but you can’t. There’s a ringing in your ears that won’t stop. It’s loud. So loud. You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out. Your heart pounds in your chest as your mind screams a million things at once. 

Where am I? Get out Get out Get out. I can't move. Help someone help. Who am I? GET OUT!

It takes everything inside of you to open your eyes. Every ounce of willpower is dedicated to what was once a simple task. A bright white light shines in your eyes. You wince as your eyes squint. Your vision is blurry as you try to look around.

As the room comes into focus, so does your hearing. The ringing in your ears quiets as the sounds of destruction and screams fill the void. An alarm is blaring loudly throughout wherever you are. You see steel tables, medical equipment, scans. Fuck where were you.

Why can't you remember anything? Your brain goes fuzzy as you try and recall anything from a few minutes ago. The last memory is pain. So much pain. You start to hear the screaming get closer. 

“Help…” Your voice is raspy as you try to call for anyone. Your throat burns as you speak. Footsteps get closer and closer.

“Please, Help me.” You cry a little louder.

Pain shoots through your body as you try to move your arms. You want to cry, but no tears come. You don’t understand. Suddenly you hear a loud bang. The steel doors bend under the pressure as the banging continues. You cry out in relief as the doors burst open. You see a strange man enter the room.

“Over here!” He calls, his voice sounds so far away. 

Snikt

In your hazy vision you see blades come out of the mans hand. Suddenly the leather straps were gone, cut away. Fear shoots through your heart at the sight of his claws.

No no no, he's going to hurt you. The people with knives, they hurt you.

"Please no don't." You whimper as he comes closer.

“Hey there kid I'm not gonna hurt you okay? We’re gonna get you out of here.” He says.

You groan as he picks you up. You move your left hand, cupping his face. Trying to see who this was, what was going on. And then you move your right hand. Only something feels very wrong. The pain still echoes through your body but only on one side.

“Wait.” You mumble. Pushing yourself out of the man's grip.

He grunts as you push hard with your right hand, sending him stumbling back much to his surprise. You fall from his grasp. A loud clang echoes when you hit the ground. You hear more footsteps, more people, more talking.

“Oh my god.” You hear a voice say in a terrified whisper.

“Kid, you need help.” The man from before says, bending down to whisper in your ear.

You ignore him. Crawling towards a steel pan on the ground. Shakily you lift your right hand. To your horror there is no longer the familiar sight of a human hand.

It’s solid white. Plates of metal make up what was once your skin. Wires connect like veins. You close your fist and open it again. Your eyes trail up your arm. The whole thing is just like your hand. Shiny white metal instead of what was once your soft skin.

You grab the steel pan and hold it up to your face. The image is distorted but you can see yourself clear as day. Half your face is turned into something so, unhuman. Robotic and unnatural.

You lift your other hand, your human hand to your face. You flinch as you touch the cold metal of your cheek. A tear slips down one of your cheeks while your other eye just stares back, cold and empty. You drop the pan in horror. Your mind goes numb as you feel a hand on your shoulder. Someone speaks but you can’t hear them.

They wrap a blanket around you, and lead you outside. They speak to you slowly and carefully, like you’re a wounded animal. They stare at you like you’re a freak. A failed experiment that has stripped you of everything. You are a freak, you are an abomination of bones and metal.

You don’t look at them. Don’t acknowledge a single thing as you stare at the floor. Slowly you lift your head, the man who cut you free sits across from you. Staring at you with hostile eyes. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the warped metal above him.

The blanket falls open, you get a look at your whole body. Half human, half machine. Expect your chest, where your ribs, your heart should be. Is a big gaping hole. Just tubes and wires and metal. 

What have they done to you? 

[yellowmagicalgirl]

Keep the Memories of Who I Was Before

Jayce and Viktor were found alive after the Machine Herald's defeat. Viktor doesn't remember anything of Hextech.

I recently participated in a writing challenge/gift exchange where we we got to choose the trope and relationship type but not the fandom that our gifters would write for us. I got assigned to write an M/M fic for the trope "Amnesia - A has lost memories of painful event; B fills in the blanks even though it hurts them both". I was still reeling from season 2 when I got my prompt, so naturally I filled it with jayvik.

If you want reading music for this, I suggest "The Line" by Twenty One Pilots, "Imperfection" by Evanescence, and "Achilles Come Down" by Gang of Youths.

I'll post a preview here, and the rest is available on AO3!

~

Jayce preferred the hospital to his lab. Not in general, no, but waiting for Viktor to wake up was infinitely more preferable when he could hear the steady beep of the heart monitor. There was a heartbeat. Viktor was alive. He was alive and stable instead of being stuck in the goo cube, instead of a rapidly cooling corpse on the table of their lab as Jayce fused him with the Hexcore.

They were both in bad shape when Ekko had found them, but Jayce had woken up first. It had been in time to see Mel off. She had given him a gold bracelet with the instruction to break it if he was ever in danger. She would come racing back to him as fast as she could. Jayce wore it where he used to wear the runic bracelet. At first, he thought it would have hurt where the Rune had once been fused to his skin, but instead his wrist was mostly numb there. He still couldn't fully move the fingers on his left hand. The doctors weren't sure if he would ever fully regain mobility in his hand or still-healing broken leg. There was something wrong with his breathing as well.

It was a small price to pay for saving the world. It was a small price to pay to save Viktor.

(But it also didn’t quite make sense, not by science alone. “Were you caught in the Grey? Because this almost matches the damage sometimes caused by prolonged exposure.” one of the doctors had asked. And while the air hadn’t been pleasant in the Ruined Zaun, Jayce couldn’t say he had been. The damage to his lungs was inexplicable, not something he could dismiss as his body rebelling against the abuse he had put it through, fighting the Machine Herald instead of healing.)

Other than his wrist, Jayce didn’t see any scars from the Arcane on his own body. If Viktor had died, and somehow Jayce had found the strength to live, he would have been devastated by this, by how he didn’t bear scars in the last place where Viktor had touched him. Now, Jayce was sure that the lack of fingerprint scars on his forehead was why he was allowed near Viktor.

Mel hadn't given him a ring. Maybe she had known he would find another magical bracelet far more comforting than another thing to make his nerve-damaged fingers clumsy. Maybe it was because one of their last conversations.

“I don’t know when I’ll come back, assuming I don’t need to come save you,” she had said to him. It had gone unsaid that she didn’t know if she would come back. She had inherited all her family’s holdings in Noxus, and she had to manage them. And that wasn’t counting the danger that awaited her in Noxus. If Viktor was well enough to travel (not that he had ever been truly well for as long as Jayce had known him, but perhaps the fresh air of Noxus would have helped his breathing), if Jayce had the strength to fight and hold a hammer, he would have insisted on going with her. “But I want you to be happy, not waiting for me to return. Maybe, if you and your partner are up for it, we can pick things back up when you and I can stay together for good. And if not, I’ll still be glad to be your friend.”

The first day Jayce had spent at Viktor’s bedside, he had spent it sewing up the blanket from where it had been cut off of Viktor. Had it been medical expediency, or had it been an attempt to destroy the last bit of armor that Viktor had from the cold?

Afterwards, all he could do was sit and fiddle with Mel’s bracelet.

The heartbeat monitor changed its tempo, faster than it had been a minute ago, and Jayce glanced up from the bracelet. Viktor was just as still as he was however many minutes ago that Jayce had become distracted twisting the bracelet around his wrist. Just as still except for the movement behind his eyes, like he was having a dream.

As far as Jayce knew, Viktor hadn’t dreamt when he was in the cocoon that the Hexcore had made for him in their lab. Why would he have dreamt? The Hexcore lulled people into dreamless solitude.

Why wouldn’t Viktor have dreamt? Jayce hadn’t been able to keep his eyes on Viktor’s face at all moments, no matter how much he had wanted to. And the Hexcore hadn’t been controlling Viktor then, not yet. Not fully.

Jayce couldn’t remember if Viktor had dreamt during the long nights in the hospital. He should have paid more attention to him back then.

And Viktor gasped. He gasped down air like a drowning man. It took a moment for Jayce to realize that he had never heard Viktor breath so deeply before, not even when he had been hooked up to oxygen tanks with medicine for his lungs flowing through an IV drip feed. Jayce found himself grinning.

Viktor’s eyes opened. They were the same amber color that they had been before Viktor had died, not the washed-out cosmic yellow with iridescent streaks. Not the cold eyes of the Herald, nor the iridescent and exhausted eyes of the Mage.

Viktor’s gloriously amber eyes looked around the room, blinking. Those eyes turned to Jayce, and the confusion in them didn’t clear. “Do I know you?”

Jayce felt the grin slide from his face. “Viktor, it’s me, Jayce, your partner.”

“Oh. I must be having a reaction to whatever medication I’m on,” Viktor said. The doctors were kinder than Jayce had expected. Giving Viktor pain medication was the humane thing to do, but Jayce was still surprised that Piltover doctors really treat the man who had tried to transmute humane to arcane with compassion.

Viktor smiled softly at him. “While we wait for the medication to wear off, could you remind me how I managed to get such a handsome husband?”

Jayce tamped down on the fluttering feeling in his chest. Like Viktor had said, the medication was really doing a number on him. “We’re not married.”

Viktor looked away from him, embarrassment clear on his face. “Well, don’t expect me to plan the wedding until after I can think clearly again.”

“We’re lab partners. What, what’s the last thing you remember?”

Viktor’s eyebrows drew together in concentration. “I had received news of an explosion set off during a break-in. I had been asked to check it out since it appeared to be some sort of research lab. At least, that’s what the enforcers told me. I didn’t see it. Was there another explosion?”

“No, there wasn’t.” Not thanks to the break-in, anyways. Not directly, even if it had been Jinx – Powder – setting it off just like she had sent her bomb to the Council. “You came to the lab, and, Viktor, that was almost eight years ago.”

“Eight years?” Viktor began to move his hands, like he was going to check his face for wrinkles or – no, he wouldn’t be checking his hair. Jayce had resisted the urge to run his hands through Viktor’s hair, to see if the white steaks were at all a different texture than the brown since they were lasting scars from the Hexcore’s transformation. But if Viktor didn’t remember the last eight years, then why would he remember his transformation? “That doesn’t sound right, how could I have forgotten –”

Viktor was cut off by the sound of his handcuffs pulling taught against the hospital bed. Confusion, no, fear, filled his eyes. He tugged again as if to confirm, more forcefully this time.

“Why am I in handcuffs?” Viktor looked down and began to tremble. “What’s wrong with my hand?”

His right hand was flesh once more, but there was an iridescent, sinuous pattern cast upon it, fading as it traveled up his arm. The same scars were strewn across his cheekbones and jaw, where his flesh had connected to the purple metal of his body. Jayce suspected that his leg was covered in the same scars, though he hadn’t lifted the blanket to check, nor had he asked the doctors who had transferred Viktor out of Jayce’s blanket and into a proper hospital gown.

“Don’t worry,” Jayce said, feeling useless. “It’ll…”

The door opened and one of the orderlies walked in. “You’re awake. I’ll let the enforcers know you’re awake. Mr. Talis, I’ll need you to leave the room while I examine the patient.”

Jayce would fight everyone who dared lay a cruel finger on Viktor, but he also knew he had to conserve his strength. “Promise me you won’t hurt him.”

“Doctor’s oath I won’t,” the orderly said. “You’ll have to talk to the enforcers for the rest.”

Read the rest on AO3.

[mortalityfixer]

my experience with roiz .

( as best i can remember )

warning for lesbiphobia , ableism , manipulation , transphobia ( ? ) , grooming / sexual harassment , potential faking of physical disorders , mental health struggles / episodes .

i first met roiz a few years back ! we didn’t really talk much , until later on that year . he became more active in my server due to our mutual interest in " melliot " musicals . he seemed nice at first . maybe a little off sometimes , but nice . though this quickly changed and i grew uncomfortable . i didn’t speak up at this time — due to fear of losing someone i had grown to borderline depend on in such a short timeframe . let it be known that i am not trying to one - up anybody else ; this is purely my experience with him . nor do i feel as though my experience was worse than the victims of his sexual grooming : it wasn’t . my heart goes to each and every one of his victims .

one of the main things that sticks out to me is the way roiz would treat me regarding my identity . he seemed to view me as a cisgender lesbian ? which confused me , as i am very much not . he would also constantly make lesbiphobic jokes towards me, such as putting lesbians on his official introduction post as a ' joke ' targeted at me . this was almost neverending and made me feel incredibly invalid and insecure in my identity and who i was as a person . i started to feel like i would never be more than the " token lesbian friend " to people due to the way he would act around me whenever i mentioned my orientation , and this eventually led to a horrible mental health spiral where i truly didn’t know who i was anymore , or if i was worthy of being known as anything other than ' the lesbian friend . ' he would also only ever address me using feminine terms , when i have always been open about using all terms . i wouldn’t mind feminine terms sometimes ! but it wasn’t sometimes , as he would never use any other form .

another thing that i remember about our friendship was the way he would treat me as a disabled person . to add context to this , i have a medically recognised joint disorder which causes mobility issues alongside other things . he would make comments such as " blud can’t run " unprovoked . he did this whilst we were referencing adamandi characters ; none of which have mobility issues . additionally , he would claim to have the same issues as me shortly after i talked about them — prior to me discussing them , he had never mentioned any form of physical disability . i won’t go into any more detail about this specific aspect of our friendship , as there’s not much else to state , as well as my own struggles remembering the situation .

most importantly of all : roiz was my friend whilst engaging in inappropriate sexual contact with an eleven year old . i never picked up on it despite it being extremely clear looking back , and i would have never befriended him had i known he was doing this ; i was manipulated into believing otherwise . roiz also claimed that this person had ' abandoned him ' after they temporarily broke contact , evoking a feeling of sympathy from me towards roiz that i really shouldn’t have felt at all . however , i did notice that he would initiate sexual or otherwise inappropriate conversations in a public server with exclusively minors . it later came out that the one on the receiving end of these conversations was , in fact , an eleven year old boy being groomed by roiz . this eleven year old was — as you may have figured out already — my good friend over at @\haowenyang , who also has a post about the situation . i recommend reading it as he is the true victim here , not me . you can find that post here .

that just about sums up my experience with this vile , sickening person . once again , i am not trying to claim that my situation was worse than those he sexually harassed and / or groomed . i do however feel it is important to get it out there . this may not be entirely accurate and there may be some gaps , as my memories of my friendship with roiz have become fuzzy and unclear . but i felt it was important to share either way . thank you for taking the time to read this .

[prismaticpichu]

So, I remember seeing something about Sephiroth potentially needing glasses, because cat eyes are for seeing things better low to the gound...

The microplastics in my brain shorted something out and I had the sudden musing of:

What if baby/toddler Sephiroth has frighteningly good depth perception and vision, since he's closer to cat-sized at that age?

Think of all the shenanigans a super-accurate, super-smart baby could get into. Just by virtue of being Small and New.

Dhdhdhdhhdhd lmaoooooo! SO TRUE!! The possibilities for shenanigans are endless… 🤣❤️

~

*toddler!Seph, playing with Hojo’s medical supplies as the professor is on the phone*

Hojo: Yes, yes! And that is why it is most crucial to deliver the toxins no later than….

*toddler!Seph picks up a tranquilizer gun, taking aim at the professor’s rear*

Hojo: Tomorrow?? No no no, we need to inject the specimens with it while they’re still fresh—

*toddler!Seph shoots*

[wazzappp]

Me tonight with 2 fanfictions to read, 4 pages worth of story stuff to sketch/sort out, new Resident Evil 8 playthrough episodes to watch, and stir fry dinner to make (I am ECSTATIC)

[fisheito]

Edien actually has his 2nd anniversary cafe signature drink on his new card ^^

the refreshing beverage i never got to try... I CAN TRY IT -NOW- [slorps the corner of the screen]

[mossistyping]

ahhhhhhh

[mythvoiced]

open starter | ahn minho

"Huh? Oh," Minho looks down at his chest. The sweatshirt he's wearing beneath it is in just a miserable state as the navy lapels of his coat, and the napkin he'd been dragging along the fabric for the past however minutes, half-distracted, and half-resigned.

"Oh, no, this is trendy, haven't you heard? Everybody's doing it these days, you know, for... TikTok or whatever," he lifts his eyes, doesn't quite manage to have his smile lift along enough to reach them. The yakult Soomi had thrown at him in a fit because he'd denied her going out with friends he barely believes the existence of smells uncomfortably strong and milk-adjacent.

"Sorry to be dragging you into this, by the way. She didn't get you too, right?"

[congademoman]

when i get better at playing demoman it's over for you bitches

[simplydnp]

my front door froze shut <3

[lupismaris]

.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

hii I was wondering if u could write something where daeho and reader are already in a relationship and they find eachother after the first round and maybe they are upset with eachother for going into the games.

anc if it could have a bit of fluff that would be nice!!

tyy🫶🫶🫶

At Least We Have Eachother

KANG DAE-HO X READER

Summary- Dae-ho and you both join the squid games for the benefit of the other. Neither of you know about it, until you find each other after the first game.

Warnings- Squid Games, mentions of blood, murder, and death

A/N- Thank you guys for the overwhelming support with my Daeho fic. I am so motivated right now, it's not even funny. He is such a sweet baby, MY SHAYLAAAA

Word Count- 1,192

Your debt was not something you were proud of. To be honest, it crept up on you. It started with medical bills, then Daeho ran into some Ex-Marines, who dragged him into a bad gamble.

From there it kind of went down hill. Struggling to pay bills, borrowing more money, making the wrong people mad. In other words, the two of you were in an extremely bad position.

When a strange man with a suitcase approached you on your way home, you were hesitant. In any other situation you might have ignored him and walked away. But, you had just had another invoice from a debt collecting company. Not to mention the loan shark that came up and threatened Daeho two days prior. The eviction notice was also putting a hole on your kitchen table.

The idea of following the funny-looking card, winning a bunch of money, clearing your (and Daeho) debts. It was too good to be true, you knew that deep down. At the end of the day, you were at rock bottom. Desperate people do desperate things.

So, while slipping Daeho a simple lie about spending the night with a friend... You took off to the discrete location alone. Where you were picked up by a van. You don't remember much after that.

The regret sunk in deep when you realized what you had gotten yourself into. When you awoke seeing hundreds of people around you, all in the same position, you were noticeably scared. You barely left the bed you woke in. Only to stand with the crowd to listen to the guards and sign the needed contract. It seemed too late to back out now...

The first game was lonely, intimidating, and revealing. The only reason you weren't lying head face in the sand dead, was your fear. It struck you stone-cold still on 'red light'. The ring of your ears pressured you to move forward on 'Green light.' Due to the deadly shots to other players. It pushed you to move so you didn't suffer the same fate.

You were much too nervous to talk to anyone, you saw little point in making friends at first. That was until the realization of any team games.

After the first game was officially over and you had returned to the common room, you'd taken a moment to think. To think how it would be if you were able to walk home now. How it probably wouldn't even matter if you had died, so many people were out for your head anyways. It was all looking dark, but Daeho was your light. He was always so positive, he kept you happy. You owed it to him to keep fighting.

To keep fighting for that adorable, handsome, sweet face. That same face that was currently staring you down....

"Daeho?" You questioned, just in case your mind was playing a trick on you.

"What are you doing here!" He ran over, pulling you further behind the layered beds. His grip was tight on your arm, once the two of you stopped, he seemed to notice. At that he quickly loosened his squeeze.

"W-why are you here! I-I thought you were sleeping over at-" You cut him off, your guilty conscience taking over.

"Daeho, what are you doing here?" You rebutted, frantically pushing your hair back. He knew you were nervous.

"To settle some of our debt, but that doesn't even matter anymore. People are dying, you can't be here!" He stressed over you. He did a few takes over your form, making sure you were not hurt in any way. You thought he was finished until he slowly brought his hand up. He stuck his thumb out and seared a few drops of blood off of your cheek. You hadn't noticed them before...

An argument against him was impossible to think of, but you managed. "Well I can say the same about you! You could get killed also. Where would that leave me!" He threw his head back, pressing both hands over his face. He dragged them down, an annoyed expression on his face.

"Ohhh, this can not be happening.. I-it doesn't matter, because you're here, where you were not supposed to be!" He started to fidget with his fingers, a sign he was distressed.

"Dae...I'm also here because... I got fired yesterday..." You looked down, picking at your nails. His head snapped to look at yours. "What?"

"They were... overstaffed and, apparently a younger employee could do the same amount of work for minimum wage... So, they just got rid of me..." He looked sympathetic, but still mad.

"You should have told me. We would have figured it out. You didn't have to lie."

You thought for a second, "Its not like I wanted to lie! I was trying to help us!"

"How reckless!" He said. It was almost comical!

A laugh pushed its way out, "Oh my gosh, don't act like you aren't here too!" You started to raise your voice, frustrated.

He took a single step back, hands on his hips. "You're supposed to be the smart one! I'm fun, loving, a burst of fricken light!" He said, his words contradicting his tone, not joyfully at all.

"Whatever! What matters now is that we were stuck in a death trap! The money is not even our first problem. We might not even be alive before the day is over! Or worse, you'll be dead and I'll be left to suffer!"

He gave another sigh, stepping forward and embracing you. It was exactly what both of you needed. His arms wrapped impossibly tight around you. You could only reciprocate the squeeze. His head fell on top of yours, he nestled in.

"I don't want to argue, I just want you safe... We will be fine." He said, keeping you in his grasp.

"I know, but I just wanted to help... The man seemed so promising, that we could have a normal life again." You wanted to let your tears flow, but you couldn't risk looking weak. You had to remind yourself that there were still a couple hundred other players in the large room.

He shook his head on top of yours, "I would live in a tent as long as I was with you.... I can manage anywhere, as long as you are by my side..."

You pulled back to look at him. Your arms still wrapping around each other. "I just, I know you're not happy... I wanted to clear everything up, one day own our own house. One that we can never get evicted from." He pushed a stray hair behind your ear.

"Oh Dae, I don't care about that. I just want you." You shoved your head into his chest.

"I love you.."

"I love you too."

"What the hell are we going to do here." You questioned, peaking up from his chest slightly.

"Were going to stick together. We're going to get out of this alive." He pulled back and down to press a firm and reassuring kiss on your lips. Maybe things would be so bad after all.

Oh, how naive you both were...

A/N- Honestly, I like my first Daeho fic better. But that's probably because I am a SUCKER for emotional hurt/comfort. Anyways, I hope y'all enjoyed this one. Pls lmk how I can improve!!!

[harmonyrae]

Itty Bitty Titty Love

Synopsis: You’ve always been insecure of your chest size. Even an ass man appreciates nice tits… What if you’re no longer attractive to them when they see you for the first time? The boys are VERY eager to put your worries to rest.

AN: As a member of the itty bitty titty committee myself and realizing I can embrace my free will as an author, I wrote this for my itty bitty girlies. Also, it’s just hot imaging the boys thumbing nipples like thumbsticks on a gamepad. Cover picture is Queen Zendaya btw :)

Content Warnings: Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus all basically try to suck your soul out through your tits, a shit ton of nipple play, they do be worshiping ya body, angst, body insecurities, medical references, mentions of plastic surgery, alcohol, explicit language, 18+ MDNI Word Count: 9.1k

“Your fingernails are going to fall off if you keep biting them like that.”

Zayne’s voice snapped you back to the present. He hadn’t even looked up from the folder in his hand. You drop your hand from your mouth and stuff both hands into the front pocket of your hoodie. You continue picking at your nails now that Zayne can’t scrutinize your bad habit.

“Stop picking at your nails.”

How does he always know? You remove them from your pocket and fold your hands in your lap. You squeeze your hands as tightly as you can to distract yourself. Zayne has been your doctor for some time, check-ups were not new, but your relationship is. You had officially become Zayne’s girlfriend a few weeks ago and while things were going well, you had both decided to take things slow when it came to anything physical. Making out and sleeping in the same bed while holding onto each other was as far as you’d gone.

“Go ahead and change into a gown, please.”

Your breath caught in your throat, a subtle gasp echoing in through the small office. You straighten up and clear your throat trying to cover up your embarrassment. Zayne looks up at you before placing the folder on his desk. He walks over and places his hands on either side of your thighs on the examination table. His thumbs lightly stroking your thighs to stop your jittery legs from shaking. 

“My love, you’ve been anxious all morning. What’s wrong?”

Your heart melts at his nickname for you, he’s always telling you how much he adores you. And he can always tell when you’re upset. He doesn’t back down until you talk to him and he can help you work through the problem. 

“It’s just… I didn’t think we would have to do a full exam. Usually you just listen to my heart and do a quick EKG.”

“Yes, but the last echocardiogram and MRI was a year ago. We need to check for any changes.”

A year ago, Zayne had been at a conference and you had done those exams with another doctor. You remember feeling awkward then, exposed and uncomfortable. But your heart condition had to be monitored thoroughly or you’d be let go from the Association so you dealt with it. But now, with Zayne back you were feeling a wave of anxiety that was… different. 

“Do I have to put on the gown?” 

Zayne cocked his head, scanning your face in an attempt to understand your worries.

“If your bra has any wiring it will disrupt the tests and damage the machine. It is also optimal for the electrocardiogram so we can place more electrodes and get a clearer reading. And the gel we use for the echocardiogram would ruin the fabric.”

He explained everything so effortlessly. Even if you had worn a wireless bra, which of course you didn’t because you needed all the help you could get, you would still have to remove it for the other tests. You felt your heart pound and your stomach drop as you thought about Zayne seeing you topless. And it wasn’t the “excited and sexy” kind of nervousness. 

You are not well-endowed, you just aren’t. You know there is nothing wrong with it, but when it comes to intimacy you always wonder if you’re too small and he won’t be satisfied. And with how Zayne always ends up kissing your collarbone and any sliver of exposed skin on your chest during your make out sessions, you were more anxious than you’ve ever been.

“Oh… okay.” Your voice barely above a whisper. 

Zayne tilts your chin up to look at him. His thumb traces your jaw.

“I promise to stay professional, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

You shake your head, the last thing you want him to think is you think he’d be unprofessional. 

“No, no… I’ll change, just… can I.. uhm…” 

Zayne catches on and straightens, slowly turning towards the door. 

“I’ll be back in 5 minutes, okay?”

You nod and watch him leave. You try to take a deep breath and your chest shakes. You finally stand and pull your hoodie over your head, folding it neatly before setting it on the chair next to the exam table. You turn to face the small mirror hung behind the door and reach behind to unclasp your bra. You tug the straps down and lift the padded cups away. As you fold your bra into as tiny a ball as possible, you stare at your bare chest. It’s not that your breasts were ugly, in fact, they were quite perky. Your rosy pink nipples hardening against the cool office air were… pretty? But no matter how many compliments you gave yourself, you still felt too small.

You sling the medical gown over your shoulders and tie the strings at the waist. After tucking your folded bra inside your hoodie, you sit back down on the exam table and wait for Zayne.

The door finally cracks open and you hear him call from outside the door.

“May I come in?”

You huff out a laugh and wrap your arms around yourself. 

“Yea, I’m ready.”

He enters with a small cart covered in a variety of machines. You recognize most of them. The wand of an ultrasound, the electrodes connected to wires neatly stacked by the monitor that would show the results. Zayne locks the wheels of the cart beside the table and motions for you to lie back. You hesitate and shift backwards slowly, finally settling back against the padded table, your hands still clenched around your waist. 

Zayne places a hand over yours and leans over to look down at you.

“It’ll be over before you know it, we’re not doing anything new.”

You give him a weak smile and watch him walk over to the small sink to wash his hands and put on gloves. He returns to your side and starts to undo the strings of the gown, your hands still somewhat in the way. As anxious as you are, you also notice how wet you’ve become. The thought of Zayne’s hands on your bare skin makes you clit throb. 

Just as he begins to pull the gown open you hear a muffled sob, you don’t even realize the sound came from your own mouth. Zayne immediately stops and moves to hover over your face, his gloved hands stroking your cheeks and wiping away tears - that you didn’t realize had started to fall. 

“This isn’t about the tests, is it? Please tell me what’s wrong. Please…”

His voice is gentle and you pinch your eyes closed, guilt washing over you. You should have talked to him about your insecurities sooner. You’re crying in his exam room, wasting his time with your emotions when he could be treating other patients. He takes hold of your hand and squeezes it gently. 

“For the moment, I’m not your doctor, I’m just Zayne. Tell me what’s going on, my love.”

You cover your face with your hand and take a deep breath knowing you have to get the words out quickly or you’ll crumble.

“I’ve always been self-conscious about my chest size. I barely have breasts and wear push up bras with padding to look normal but really I barely fill out an A cup. I know you like to kiss my chest and I feel like you’re going to be disappointed and I know this is a doctor's appointment and you’ll be professional but this is the first time you’re seeing my chest and I am embarrassed…” 

Your final words are a tad muffled as you struggle to get them out. You keep your eyes covered with your hand and let out a shaky breath. After a minute, Zayne pries your hand away and you open your eyes to look up at him. A gentle smile tugs at his lips and he holds onto both of your hands. He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I do love to kiss your chest. And I can’t wait to savor every inch of your skin. Your breasts are perfect because they’re a part of you.”

More tears stream down your face and your heart hammers inside your chest. You are undeniably wet and aching to be touched, but your first time with Zayne would not be in his exam room. Even if it does give you major Grey’s Anatomy vibes and there are plenty of scenes you’d love to recreate - Zayne the Derek to your Meredith. 

“Let me see you darling, please.”

His whisper sends chills down your spine and you move your hands way letting him open the gown. He settles his hands on your waist right below your ribcage. You keep your eyes locked on his face, your chest heaves and you feel your nipples tighten. Zayne drops his eyes and lets out a soft breathy moan. His eyes snap back to yours.

“Will you allow me to be ‘just Zayne’ for another moment?”

You nod slowly, your face and chest feeling hot under his gaze. You watch as he lowers his head and places a kiss to your collarbone. Your weeping cunt is pulsating with anticipation. His lips lower and he kisses the center of your chest between your breasts. You feel his hot breath fan across your chest making your shoulders tremble. His hand splays across your stomach, you realize he removed his gloves, his skin caressing yours leaves you gasping. 

Then you feel his wet lips capture your nipple and you groan, louder than you intended. You clasp your hand over your mouth, but Zayne doesn’t stop. His tongue flicks over your sensitive peak and you arch your back, pressing yourself closer to him. His hand glides from your stomach to your other breast, his thumb pressing onto your neglected nipple. He rolls his thumb in a circular motion, sending your nerves into a frenzy. 

He switches sides and sucks your nipple into his mouth. His hand switches as well, his nimble fingers rolling your swollen nipple between them. You feel the cold metal on the clasp of his badge brush against your skin bringing goosebumps to the surface in an instant.

“Zayne… mhm god…”

He moans against you and the vibrations against your chest make your head spin. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug. He kneads your breast, letting his hand press and rub.

“If you don’t - ahh - stop, I’m gonna… fuck Zayne…”

He finally releases your nipple with a wet pop. He lifts his head to meet your eyes and looks at you over his smudged glasses. His face flushed, a drop of sweat rolling down his temple.  

“Your breasts are beautiful and I can’t wait…”

He places a kiss on each of your nipples while rubbing his hands down your waist. You shiver and lean your head back on the table.

“...to continue this at home. But for now, I think you should get dressed and speak to reception about rescheduling this appointment.”

You lift your head quickly and stare at him with wide eyes.

“Wait… why?”

He rises and closes your gown. He offers his hand and you take it, helping you sit up.

“Because I don’t think I’ll get an accurate reading after… my examination.”

You giggle and lift your hands to his face, pulling him closer to you. He leans in and kisses you without hesitation. You’ll never forget this moment. Zayne desired your body as it was, itty bitty titties included.

You knew a second bowl of hot pot was a bad idea, but it was so delicious and the weather was so cold you didn’t care. You cuddle up next to Xavier as you tip the bowl back, slurping down the warm broth. Xavier chuckles as he lifts a napkin to your chin, catching a droplet before it stained your sweater. 

“Thanks.”

Your mouth is full of noodles and meat as you speak, only making Xavier laugh harder. He sets down his third bowl and wraps an arm around you. A gust of cold air whips your hair across your face. Xavier quickly tucks the strand behind your ear. Your cheeks, flushed from the cold wind and hot soup, now burn hotter under his gaze.

“Thank you for coming to find me tonight.”

You lean your head onto his shoulder. You feel him let out a deep breath. When Jenna told you he had gone missing after his meeting with her, you immediately started looking for him. You knew he was getting close to catching a write up, but didn’t expect it to happen so soon. When you found him in your favorite spot, your heart broke.

The place where Xavier asked you to officially be his girlfriend a little over two weeks ago. An old bench on top of a hill that overlooked the entirety of Linkon - or almost all of it. The city lights glow and the stars shimmer against the dark indigo sky. During the spring the hill is covered in flowers, the grass a vibrant green in the summer months, in autumn crisp colorful leaves and when winter comes children love to use the steep slope to sled. You’d watched a whole year pass on this bench, talking with Xavier about anything and everything. And when he finally asked you to be his, you didn’t hesitate, pulling him into a kiss you’ve craved since you met him.

But tonight, you sat with him until the moon had fully risen. He told you about the meeting with Jenna. She had written him up for being reckless on his last mission. He had used himself as bait for the Wanderer and gotten himself badly injured. She had given him countless warnings, but finally had to put something in writing. You held his hand as he sat in silence.

“I know she had to, I’m not upset.”

You nodded, but you knew he was frustrated and embarrassed. He had once led a whole crew, held a position of authority, and been the one to hand out punishments. And now, he was receiving them. You knew he could have been promoted multiple times, but he always turned it down. He enjoyed the daily grind of fighting Wanderers. And he loved being your partner. 

Eventually, you heard his stomach growl. You dragged him down the hill to your bike and went to your favorite hot pot restaurant. It was just before closing so the owner offered to serve you as long as you sat outside so they could start cleaning the sitting area. And even though it was cold, you both agreed quickly, your hunger winning out over your comfort. Now you were sitting back, cuddled up next to Xavier with a full belly and wanted nothing more than to curl up with him on the couch for the rest of the night.

The drive home was slow, the road to your apartment complex was getting work done so you had to wait an extra 20 minutes waiting for a path to clear. Xavier had rested his head against your back, his hands wrapped around your waist. During the wait, he had shifted his hands to your hips. When he started rubbing circles into your lower back with his thumbs, you felt your heart skip. He shifted his hands under your sweater to touch your skin, continuing his massage. When he started to move his hands around to your stomach you stiffened. 

“I’m sorry…”

His voice was soft, barely audible through his helmet. You shook your head.

“No no, just unexpected is all.” He resumed rubbing his fingers along your skin, leaving goosebumps behind. 

By the time you had parked at your apartment, his hands had trailed down to your waistband caressing your stomach and dipping down to rub your inner thighs. You parked your bike and leaned back against him, letting out a sigh that fogged up your visor. You heard him chuckle behind you.

“Do you want to come up to my place?”

His voice had an edge to it, something dark and dangerously sexy. You nodded and you both dismounted and removed your helmets before heading into the building. While you were excited, you also felt a twinge of anxiety. Would this just be your usual make-out or did he want something more? And if he wanted something more… would he be disappointed in your body?

You’ve toyed around with the idea of a breast enhancement for years. You were barely 18 when you asked your grandma about it. She had shut down the idea immediately, telling you to wait until you were 25 and reconsider. You just felt so disproportionate, opting to wear baggy clothes. While you enjoyed being comfortable, you always felt like you were hiding.

Now, Xavier was holding your waist closely while the elevator made its slow ascent to his floor. You leaned back against him, his hands trailing lower, pulling your hips back against his groin. You grinded against him instinctively, your mind going blank as you felt his erection press against your ass. He groaned softly in your ear and kissed your neck.

The elevator door opened and Xavier raced forward, pulling you along by your wrist. You giggle as you stumble forward following him to his apartment door. He presses his thumb down and swings the door open dragging you inside. 

Once you were inside, his hands went to work removing your layers. Your thick winter coat falling to the floor behind you, your scarf, your gloves. You tug at his hoodie, watching him pull it over his head to reveal his firm torso, his abs tensing as his breathing becomes more labored. He kept kissing your lips, your neck, your hands - any skin he could reach. 

You collapse onto the couch with him, he crawls over you, settling between your thighs. His hands knead the flesh of your hips, your pants slipping down slightly to grant him more access to your bare skin. His hands start to move upwards towards the hem of your sweater and just as he slips beneath the thick fabric you gasp into his mouth. Your hand flying down from where you had been gripping his shoulder to stop him.

He jumps at your sudden movement, his hand frozen in place. He looks at you, his eyes hazy with lust. 

“I’m sorry, I thought… we’ll stop?”

His voice was gentle, but you could tell he was barely holding back… his kisses had been so intense. You stare at him with wide eyes, your fingers digging into his neck. You open your mouth to speak, but no words come out. 

He takes hold of your chin, sitting up on his knee. His gaze sends a burst of heat straight to your core. You wanted him so damn badly, but your stomach kept doing backflips. You were so uncertain how he would react to your body, would he act like he loved it but secretly be disappointed?

“Are you okay? Did I go too far?”

The concern in his voice makes you nearly choke on a sob. You shake your head furiously.

“No, not at all! I… uhm…”

“What is it, baby?”

You often rely on sarcasm and brush off delicate topics because you’d rather crawl in a hole than feel weak. So you take a deep breath and brace yourself.

“I just feel like I should warn you, I’m part of a committee.”

Xavier stares at you, his brows furrow. He leans over, resting his side against the back of the couch. He keeps one hand on your thigh, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

“The itty bitty titty committee. I have no tits basically and I think you’ll be disappointed, but I’m going to get a boob job in a few years once I’ve saved up enough so maybe –”

Before you can continue, Xavier clasps a hand over your mouth. He leans in close, his knee pressing against your core making you shiver. 

“I can promise you, I won’t be disappointed.”

You give him a look, a “sure, okay” look. He scoffs and proceeds to lift the hem of your sweater slowly. He presses his mouth to your ear, giving your earlobe a nibble.

“I think I should take a look. Decide for myself, yea?”

He lifts his hand from your mouth and looks at you, he waits for you to give him the go ahead. With a subtle nod, he lifts you up, his hands diving under the back of your sweater. He swiftly unhooks your bra and pulls it out from under your sweater, tossing it onto his coffee table. He lets you fall back down onto the couch before he lifts the front of your sweater and sticks his head underneath. 

“Xavier!”

You gasp and barely have time to register what’s happening when you feel it, his tongue pressed flat against your nipple. Your hips buck and you grind against the growing bulge in his pants. He groans as he sucks your nipple into his mouth. He sucks and licks and rolls his tongue over the sensitive peak. His other hand reaches under to pinch your other nipple. 

You’re not sure why you expected him to be gentle. It felt like he was trying to suck your soul out of your breast and when he grazed his teeth against the tender flesh you nearly screamed. He nibbled and damn near made out with your breast. Without warning he switched sides, giving your other nipple the same treatment. 

“Oh oh oh ooohhh fuck…”

You were rolling your hips against him while arching your back trying to trap his mouth against your chest. He started squeezing your breasts, making your nipples strain and tighten even more. He opened his mouth even wider and licked your breast up and down, changing sides over and over and over. Your head was pressed so far into the cushion your neck was starting to ache. 

“Xav pleasepleaseplease oh god uh fuck ahh…”

He finally pulled his head out from under your sweater. He wasted no time lifting your sweater right off of your body, rolling it up and tucking it under your hips. He starts to unbutton your pants, but slows to lean forward and capture your nipple again with his mouth.

“Xavier god ahh..”

He mumbles against your breast, letting his lips drag across each peak as he switches sides as he speaks, never leaving your chest alone for a moment.

“Do you want more, baby girl?”

You tug at his hair forcing him to look up at you, his face flushed and sweat coating his chest.

“God yes… please Xav, please…”

He grins as he leans down and places gentle kisses to the center of your chest. He continues to work your pants off of you.

“Your tits are delicious honey, don’t you dare change a thing.”

You close your eyes and hold on for dear life as Xavier takes you for the first time. Your tiny titties were nothing to be ashamed of, in fact, he loved them. Now what to do with all that money you saved up for that surgery?

“If you don’t get your cute ass down here I’ll have to restart the movie and I’m already wet!”

Rafayel’s voice rings through the house. His tone was serious, but playful as ever. You knew he would restart the movie without complaints, he was just impatient. You stare at yourself in the mirror, pushing your breasts together, trying to retie your bikini top to make them appear larger, but nothing is working. 

You sigh and grab hold of the sink. You take a deep breath trying to calm your nerves. When Rafayel suggested a movie night you were all for it. He had painted a portrait of a famous director's dog so he sent Rafayel a copy of his upcoming film. Getting a sneak peak at what is sure to be this fall’s most popular movie was enticing. But then Rafayel suggested making it a movie night by the pool. He had an outdoor screen and the old fashioned lights strung above the infinity pool would surely make the night magical. But as soon as he suggested it, your heart sank. He was so excited, so you didn’t refuse, but all day you’d been tense thinking about what you’d wear.

Your bright blue bikini was your favorite, simple but comfortable. The triangle top on most girls would probably not cover much, but for you it was relatively modest. Usually, you didn’t care what people thought. If you went to the beach, you wore your bikini and had a great time, end of story. But when it came to Rafayel, you suddenly felt… exposed and… lacking. 

When Rafayel asked you to be his girlfriend you didn’t even let him finish the question before jumping into his arms screaming yes. You had actually knocked him over, both of you falling into the fountain outside the aquarium. You spent 5 minutes laughing and just sat there. He held onto you, like he was afraid you’d drift away the moment you stood up. 

It hadn’t even been a week and the amount of times you had almost thrown caution to the wind and dropped to your knees just to get a taste… Yeah, this is concerning. And you can tell Rafayel is feeling the same way, the way he holds onto you and kisses your neck. He wants to leave his mark and make sure everyone can see it. The various hickeys on your neck and shoulders were more than enough to send a clear message to your coworkers and friends.

You both had been dancing around the conversation of being intimate. You wanted it to be natural, but you also felt so self-conscious you weren’t sure you’d ever be ready. Maybe you can just tell him you love doggy and he won’t have to see your chest? But every time you tried to turn around in bed he would hold you tighter, wanting to face you and feel your cheek against his chest. 

You grabbed one of Rafayel’s t-shirts out of his dresser and tugged it on. You knotted the excess fabric at the hip, but kept the chest loose. You swept your hair into a messy bun on the top of your head and jogged down the stairs and towards the backyard. 

You could hear the ocean from his yard, the constant crashing of the waves against the shore had become your favorite sound - besides Rafayel’s singing. You could hear him humming to himself while he prepared mixed drinks at the bar next to the pool. His swim trunks were fitted, showing off his adorable ass and leaving nothing to the imagination. You could feel your core start to pulse. 

You cross your arms over your chest and approach the bar, silently slipping onto one of the bar stools. You clear your throat dramatically.

“Bartender! I’d like to order please!”

Rafayel jumped and clicked his tongue as he turned around.

“That’s not funny! I could have dropped a glass.”

His pout made your smile hurt your cheeks. He strolled over and placed a hurricane glass in front of you. The glass is lightly frosted from the blended drink. Bright blue slushy at the bottom with a yellow layer on top, a slice of pineapple on the rim next to a straw. 

“A Rafayel special. I just had leftover stuff from the party last weekend, so this is… uhh… unique. It’s basically a Blue Hawaiian on the bottom with a Pina Colada on top. All made with Rum, so we are not mixing liquors. Learned the hard way about that one…” 

You lean forward and take a sip, the sweet and sour combo makes your lips pucker and eyes squeeze shut. When you open your eyes, you see Rafayel staring at you, waiting for a verdict.

“It’s sour, I like it! What will you call it?”

He tilts his head, lifting his hand to his chin. You let your eyes drift while he is distracted, his broad shoulders tapering down to a tight waist. His abs defined and glistening with water, you guess he had already jumped in, maybe to test the temperature? You sigh and when you return your eyes to his face, you see he is looking at you with a smug grin.

“You’re staring, cutie.”

You scoff and take another sip of your drink, the sour aftertaste hits you like a brick. You shake your head and hop off the bar stool, taking your drink with you as you walk around the edge of the pool. You hear Rafayel following you. 

“So you have the movie ready?”

Rafayel hums and plants his hands on your hips. You lean back against him and breathe in his sweet scent, he always smelled like the ocean in the best way. It made your head spin. You feel him take your drink from your hand and set it on a nearby table. You close your eyes and sway with him. Unfortunately, you picked the wrong moment to trust him. He wrapped an arm around your waist and lunged into the pool dragging you with him. 

He’s lucky the water is warm or you’d have slapped him silly. You wiggle against his grasp, the water dragging you down. But just as quickly as you sank to the bottom, you are being pulled to the surface. You slap Rafayel’s arm as you surface, spinning around to splash him.

“Rafayel! You little shit!”

Rafayel laughs and splashes water back at you. He finally grabs your waist and pulls you back to him, his lips finding yours in an instant. You taste Rum on his lips, he always did prefer to drink it straight, only opting to drink “pretty drinks” when he was with you. The spicy undertones linger as he dips his tongue into your mouth. You moan as his tongue tangles with yours. He sucks your tongue into his mouth as his hands reach down to position your thighs around his waist. 

You’re nearly delirious when you finally pull back, his mouth moving to your neck while you catch your breath. 

“Did you even put the movie in? Or are you - fuck… are you —”

He cuts you off by kissing you once more. He pulls back just enough to mumble against your mouth.

“We can watch the movie, if you want. Or we can… make one ourselves?”

You let out a loud moan as he bites your lower lip. His hands move to palm your ass before tucking his fingers under your shirt, pulling up slowly. You pull back, tearing your mouth away, and reach for his hands. His eyes are full of surprise which slowly morphs into fear.

“What happened? What did I do?”

You shake your head, holding his face in your hands. 

“Nothing, you didn’t do anything, I’m sorry.”

You remove your legs from around his waist and he reluctantly lets go of your hips. You swim to the edge and hoist yourself up to sit with your legs in the water. You immediately tug on your shirt so it won’t cling to your body. Rafayel swims over and stands up, the water only to his stomach, he crosses his arms and rests his forearms on your knees. 

“What’s up cutie? What happened there?”

You try to laugh it off and pinch his cheek playfully.

“I told you, it’s nothing. I just… I was surprised, that’s all.”

His nose scrunches up and he tilts his head.

“It’s a surprise I want my hands all over you? We’ve been like this all week, what changed tonight? Something definitely changed.”

He’s right. All week if you weren’t kissing him, you were hugging him, if you weren’t hugging him you were holding his hand, if you weren’t holding his hand you were touching him in some way. And he was doing the exact same to you. The only difference was how exposed you were, how little clothing you had on. You were afraid, afraid he wouldn’t be as attracted to you once he saw how small your breasts were. Although you believe he is an ass man, his hands always found a way to hold onto you there, you still felt inadequate. 

He tapped your forehead and you looked up, blinking at him slowly.

“You’re thinking about it, but not saying it. Out with it, beautiful.”

He leans on your legs, his face inches from your own. He has the faintest hint of a pout and you hate how easily you fold for that little lip. Your fiddle with your fingers, uncertain what to do with your hands. Finally you sigh and meet his eye.

“I don’t have much going on… with my chest. It’s like I never went through puberty or something cause I just… I don’t have… I don’t want you to be disappointed.” 

You feel your cheeks burn and you lift your hands to cover your face. When you feel the pressure of Rafayel’s arms on your legs disappear your stomach drops. Then you feel his hands around your wrists, slowly pulling your hands away. You keep your eyes cast downwards and shift uncomfortably on the tile beneath you. 

“Cutie?”

His gentle voice warms you from the inside out and you look up at him. His beautiful smile is contagious and you feel the corners of your mouth tip upwards. You huff out a laugh, trying to calm your racing heart. 

“I have never, can never, will never be disappointed in you. Your body makes me…”

He pauses, his hands sliding up your thighs. You instinctively spread your legs for him to slide his waist between them. 

“It makes me… fuck… I feel like I’m on fire. I just want to hold you and touch you…”

His hands continue up your thighs to your hips, his fingers gently lifting the hem of his shirt away from you. He caresses the skin of your stomach, and you’re thankful you're already wet from the pool because your cunt is practically weeping for him.

“Take this off, I want to see you.”

You hesitate for a moment, but finally lift your hands to undo the knot at your waist. You tug at the shirt and pull it over your head, the fabric heavy with water. You drop the shirt to the ground, and round your shoulders, you don’t even realize you’re pushing your breasts together in an attempt to plump them up. When Rafayel grabs your shoulders you practically yelp and look up at him, confused. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t push them together.”

You close your eyes and roll your shoulders back, relaxing them and force yourself to stay still. 

“That’s my job.”

His voice was deeper, a rasp to it that caught you by surprise, just like his hands which cupped your breasts and squeezed them. You lurch forward and gasp. You’re uncertain if you are surprised or angry, but as he begins to flex his hand pushing his palms harder against your nipples you can’t remember. 

“Raf…”

He drops his hands and leans in, kissing your neck. 

“May I?” 

His hands travel up your back and he fiddles with the strings of your top. Your chest rises and falls faster as his eyes stay locked on yours. You nod and lift your arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. You can feel him untie your top, both at your back and behind your neck. Your body is pressed against his, his hand snakes up your stomach to grab a hold of the fabric and rip it away from your body. The feeling of your tense nipples pressed against his bare chest sends another shockwave through your body. 

He shifts his mouth, kissing your jaw, your neck, your shoulders - his hot mouth leaving a trail of saliva behind as he tastes every inch of your skin. One of his hands lifts and squeezes your breast, lifting it to his mouth. His teeth roll your nipple between them, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you press your hips forward suddenly. With your core pressed against his stomach, he holds you up with a hand to your back, his other hand squeezes and tugs at your breasts lining it up perfectly with his mouth. 

You arch your back, your hands rake through his hair and down the back of his neck. He moans as your nails start to dig in. He bites down a little harder and you cry out.

“Fuck fuck ahh fuck Rafayel I… please…”

As he repositions and shifts to massage your neglected breast, he whispers against your skin.

“Fuck… you’re so sensitive. How does this feel?”

He flicks his tongue over your nipple over and over and over and you whimper as your eyes roll back. You’ve never realized how sensitive your nipples were. How just the slightest touch was sending you into a frenzy. Maybe it’s because you were so worried about your size that you just never let anyone touch you this way. But right now, you were convinced he could make you come without even touching your pussy. 

“Please don’t stop, fuuuuck, do that faster…”

He closes his mouth around you and sucks, his tongue never stopping. He no longer needed to hold your breast to his mouth as you were arching into him. He dropped his hand to your core, putting pressure on your clit through your bikini bottoms. You rolled your hips and spread your legs wider, desperate for him to do more. But instead of doing more, he pulled back, releasing your breast and putting less pressure on your throbbing clit. You whimper again, dropping your head to look at him. His smile was wider than ever.

“You are… so goddamn beautiful. Your moans nearly made me lose my mind…”

You feel your cheeks warm. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, letting your fingernails lightly scratch his skin. He shivers and tucks his hands under your ass, lifting you and pulling you into the pool with him. He lowers himself into the water with you, your legs wrapped around him once more. His arms holding you flush against him. 

“Your body is my sanctuary, never forget that, okay?”

You nod, resting your forehead against his. He didn’t see your body in parts, he saw it as a whole and he was obsessed with every single inch. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in you. And he did, until you were sure you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Why oh why did you agree to go with Sylus to this gala? You already stuck out like a sore thumb in his world, but this? This is torture. 

Sylus made light conversation with the seamstress as she took his measurements for a new custom suit. You couldn’t help but notice how she touched him, her hand lingering longer than it needed to. When she took his waist measurement he made a joke and she put a hand on his fucking chest. You had bit your lip so hard you could taste blood. And now she was leaning close to him asking irrelevant questions when she should have scurried back to her desk. The gala was in two days and she was standing there talking about wine? You shift uncomfortably on the plush sofa. You just wanted to go home.

The seamstress eyed you for a moment, her eyes trailing down your body. That look, you were becoming quite used to it. Being the woman on Sylus’s arm brought you a lot of unwanted attention and judgment. 

You straightened your leather jacket, checking the zippers to make sure they were fastened properly. It was unbearably hot in the boutique, but you didn’t want to take off your jacket. Sylus had surprised you after you got off work, picking you up for dinner and, apparently, shopping for the gala. If you had known, you would have worn your good bra and a shirt that highlighted your waist and distracted from your smaller than average chest.

You’d learned all the tricks of the trade by now. Spending money on a good push-up bra was better than stuffing a mediocre one and risking tissues falling out. You only ever cared when it came to dating, at work you wore a basic sports bra or bralette. Wanderers don’t care that you have tiny titties, they just have to die. 

Before Sylus had started getting serious about his intentions with you, you didn’t care how you looked for him either. But after a few months of joining him as “security” for his deals or him tagging along on a mission, you had fallen so hard for him it was damn near painful. You still remember the day, about 3 weeks ago, when you finally asked him to date officially. You kept waiting for him to ask you, but eventually you got impatient and asked him. His smile was radiant that day and honestly every day since. 

You had agreed to take things slow and try to figure out a plan for your relationship first before getting physical.. His position and your job made things… complicated. But you couldn’t deny the fact you found it pretty hot that you were hiding it. You were enjoying the time you had with him, where no one from your world was judging him. Sadly, you couldn’t escape everyone in his world judging you.

“Sweetie? Did you hear me?”

Sylus’s voice breaks through the white noise in your head and you blink at him. He chuckles and sits down next to you. He leans back and wraps his arm around your shoulder. 

“I said now it’s your turn.”

You tense, your eyes snapping to the seamstress. She looked at you expectantly, her hand on her hip and her lips set in a crooked smirk. You couldn’t help but let your eyes fall down her body. Her voluptuous hips and, god, she had a nice rack. She had that hourglass figure that you’d only ever dreamed of. You could see it now, she wraps the measuring tape around your chest and chuckles under her breath. She’d probably mutter something like “Is that all there is?” and you’d want to crawl in a hole.

“Oh, I don’t need to, I have something.”

Sylus raises a brow in surprise. He sits up and leans closer to you, resting his arm on his knees. You cross your arms over your chest and smile innocently. 

“This is a black tie event, kitten. Is it a floor length gown?”

You bite your lip. You definitely did not have a floor length gown. When would you ever need a floor length gown? Well right now, that’s when. You feel your cheeks warm as you glance between Sylus and the seamstress. 

“I’ll circle back in a few minutes and see if she’s ready then.”

That voice is so sickeningly sweet, too sweet, she’s laying it on thick. All “I’m happy to help” and “let me know what you need” and all that bullshit. You cringe and watch her leave. 

“If you don’t want your measurements taken, then you can just try on some dresses.”

You turn to face him and fight to keep your emotions hidden. You did not want to try on anything here. They’d have nothing for you and it would be too expensive.

“We really don’t have to do this, I can make what I have work. Don’t worry. How about we head back to the base? I bet Luke and Kieran are still trying to figure out that puzzle box we got them.”

Sylus leans in further, his nose brushing yours. He takes your chin in his hand.

“I can always tell when you’re lying, sweetie. Care to try that again?”

You scoff and try to pull your face out of his grasp, but he holds firm. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You feign ignorance once again and Sylus chuckles. It’s a deep chuckle, laced with something almost sinister. While you were trying to figure out what he's thinking he grabs onto your waist and lifts you, dragging you over to straddle his lap. You squeal and try to push back to stand up, but Sylus’s grip is too strong.

“Sylus! This isn’t appropriate!” 

Sylus pulls you forward. Your hands press against his chest as you fall onto him. He nuzzles his face into your neck, placing soft kisses behind your ear. You stop resisting for a moment and close your eyes, enjoying the affection. But when you open your eyes, you spot the busty seamstress glaring at you. Green really isn’t her color.

“Sylus, stop, this isn’t –”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

He runs his hands over your thighs and you hold your breath. When he squeezes your ass your composure crumbles. You slap his chest and push back, you’re sure your face is on fire with how it’s burning. 

“Little miss perfect body is staring and I just want to go home, okay? Just let me go!”

Sylus leans back to look you in the eye. He scans your face, trying to figure out where this outburst came from. 

“Little miss perfect body?” He repeats your words slowly. 

Your temper was reaching a boiling point. You were overheated in your jacket, the seamstress was staring daggers at you, Sylus’s hands on your body was making your head swim and you wanted nothing more than for him to touch you and hold you. You were overwhelmed and were seconds away from running out of the boutique without Sylus.

“Round ass, perfect tits, tiny waist. Can fit into any dress she wants and fill it out perfectly?”

Sylus stares at you with wide eyes. His mouth hangs open, but he says nothing.

“You know, the kind of woman people expect to be hanging off your arm? Not someone like me who can never find a dress that fits both my hips and chest because I was blessed with thick thighs but tiny tits and I can afford alterations for every dress I buy, so I just don’t bother.”

You couldn’t stop your rant. You tried to keep your voice steady and avoid yelling, but your heart was pounding and you felt that familiar sting in the back of your throat. You’d rather die than cry in the middle of a high end boutique.

“I don’t have anything to wear to the damn gala and I don’t want that bitchy seamstress to take my measurements and mock my fucking chest size. I want to leave, please Sylus.”

Sylus doesn’t hesitate to lift you off of his lap, helping you stand up. You straighten your jacket and grab your bag off the floor. You rush to the door and fling it open. Sylus thanks the seamstress and follows you out. You reach his bike and get in the driver seat. Sylus doesn’t say a thing and just hands you the keys once you finish securing your helmet. He climbs on the back and wraps his arms around you as you take off. 

You’re sure you broke several laws trying to get to the Onychinus base, but you didn’t care. You wanted to crawl into your bed and cry. As soon as you parked Sylus’s bike and yanked off your helmet, you stalked into the mansion heading straight for your room. But before you could turn to walk down the hallway leading to your room, you felt your feet lift off the ground. You were tossed over Sylus’s shoulder, his arm holding your legs.

“Sylus! Put me down! Now!”

Sylus remained silent as he carried you through the mansion, he went straight for his room and you felt your stomach twist. You pounded on his back and kept shouting for him to put you down. Which he didn’t do until you were in his room with the door closed. You stumble as you regain your balance. He holds your shoulders as he looks down at you. 

“You’re not leaving until you talk to me.”

You cross your arms and you know you’re pouting, but you just don’t care. He leans down to be at eye-level with you. 

“Sweetie, please. Do you really feel this way about your body?”

Tears well up and you can’t blink them away fast enough, they spill over and roll down your cheeks. You bite your lip and stare at your feet. Sylus moves his hands from your shoulders to your face, his palms warming your cheeks, his thumbs wiping away your tears. 

“My chest is too small, my hips are too big, I don’t fit… I don’t fit in here… with you. Everyone at these galas or auctions are stunning and their bodies are so gorgeous, I don’t –”

He cuts you off, his voice has a sharp edge.

“If you think I look at any other woman… Why would I trade a diamond for a lump of coal?”

You stare at him, eyes wide, your mind reeling. Sylus trails his hands down your neck, to your shoulders before settling on your waist.

“Your body is the only thing I truly crave in this world. More than money or gems. Every moment I am with you is pure bliss. You are my world and you are not going to speak about your body like this. Not anymore.”

You gasp and take a deep breath, your bottom lip still quivering. Sylus reaches for the zippers of your jacket and you tense.

“Let me prove to you that your body deserves to be worshiped.”

You feel a heat course through your veins. 

“Okay.”

He unzips your jacket and circles behind you to tug at the sleeves. He tosses your jacket on the couch and proceeds to lift your tank top. You stand before him in one of your tried and true bralettes, nothing fancy and definitely not supportive, but the lace feels nice. His fingers trace over the delicate pattern sending shivers down your spine. He tucks his fingers under the hem and you raise your arms for him to remove it.

When you’re finally standing in front of him, your chest bare, he takes your hand and pulls you over to the bed. He sits on the edge and holds you in front of him. He places his hands over your ribcage, his thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. You rest your hands on his forearms, taking a deep breath. 

“Close your eyes.”

You stare at him and open your mouth to argue, but he gives you a warning look. You close your eyes and try to relax your body, but not knowing what he is going to do is making you more anxious and tense. Your forehead starts to hurt from pinching your brows together and you start to wonder if you should have taken some pain relief before starting this… whatever this is… but then Sylus’s mouth presses against your skin. You gasp and grip his arms tighter. He places gentle kisses to the center of your chest, inching closer to your nipples with each kiss. He kisses around your nipple, his nose rubbing against the sensitive flesh making your knees buckle. He leans back and you open your eyes and look down at him, his smile is breathtaking. 

“Turn around.”

You obey instantly, turning around and letting him guide you to sit on his lap. He holds onto your waist as he shifts backwards onto the bed. He settles you between his legs and you lean back against his chest. He places kisses to your neck, sucking and nibbling along the way. His hands rubbing your stomach before he lifts them to fully cup your breasts. 

“Lean your head back and keep your eyes closed for me, angel.”

You do as you’re told, the feeling of his palms pressing against your nipples sending jolts of electricity straight to your clit. You rest your head against him and take slow and steady breaths. His hands shift and you’re about to whine, but then you feel his fingertips press against your nipples. You gasp and push your chest out, his fingers start to move more rapidly, massaging your nipples faster and faster. Rolling the tight buds in circles and occasionally flicking them with his fingernail. You arch your back and moan.

“Ahh… Sy fuck –”

He changes his pace, on one side he pinches and twists while the other he continues to massage and roll and flick. He dips his head down to place kisses to your neck. He switches back and forth over and over, his kisses getting messier as you wiggle against him in ecstasy. He finally sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, the combination of pleasure and pain pushes you over an edge. You reach your hands back and grab onto the back of Sylus’s neck. You can’t catch your breath, his fingers moving at a relentless pace making your nipples tender and swollen. 

“Sylus - ngh - so sensitive ahh…”

He stops suddenly and you sigh, but then he lifts you and stands. He sits you down on the bed and crawls on top of you, you inch backwards on the bed until he grabs your hips to stop you. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth and you grunt, the bud already overworked. You fist his sweater and tug, you feel the vibration of his laugh against your skin. He releases you for a moment to remove it, his bare chest rests on your stomach. His mouth continues to suck and lick at your nipples, the skin surrounding them and all along the space between. You glance down for just a moment to see your chest littered with marks. You roll your hips and Sylus groans. He hauls himself up and settles his elbows beside your head, his bare chest colliding with yours. 

“You deserve to be worshiped, ravaged, feasted upon…”

He captures your lips with his and kisses you hard, his tongue slipping through your lips in an instant. His warmth seeps through you. You feel like you’re wrapped in a safety blanket. 

“I am more than happy to remind you of that every day, until the end of time if I have to.”

You let out a strangled gasp, a tear slipping down your cheek. He kisses the tear away and presses more gentle kisses all over your face. You know you’ll still have days where you feel self-conscious, but you believe Sylus. He won’t let you forget how precious and desirable you are to him. And you can’t wait to watch him prove it every day, until the end of time.

Tag List (comment if you wanna be added!): @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @m00nchildwrites @plsdonttakemyname

[dontforgetukraine]

Ukraine Donation Guide Master Post

(Ver. 2 updated Aug 13th, 2024) I will be reformatting this and adding more in the future when I have time.

Also a quick note, all of the groups I have found through twitter have been around long enough for them to be vetted by each other and the brigades they work with. In fact, a lot of these groups collaborate with each other too. Those that are in the fight for Ukraine have been diligent in calling out those that are grifters. Word spreads around quickly if an organization doesn't show up with what they promised. They also use their social media (often Twitter) as a means of transparency for their work.

Remember: When considering on whether to donate, always use your best judgement and donate to those you trust if you do not see what is listed is up to your standards.

Multi-Purpose

United 24 has various fundraisers dedicated to defense and drones, medical aid, rebuilding Ukraine, humanitarian demining, and science and education. You can pick which one you want to contribute to under their various projects.

Liberty Ukraine uses funds for humanitarian aid, medical supplies, protective gear and equipment, and rehabilitation therapy. You can choose which campaign of theirs to donate to.

Come Back Alive is a charitable foundation that supports Ukraine's military with competent assistance while also focusing on security and defense. They also have projects that use sports to help veterans rehabilitate. You can choose which campaign to donate to.

Serhiy Prytula Charity Foundation works to help both civilians and Ukraine's army. You can choose to donate to an active project or any of their general campaigns. Civilian aid campaigns cover temporary housing, supporting crisis and emergency responses, schools, demining, and healthcare. Military aid campaigns cover drones, optics units, communications equipment, and support of air defense teams.

Food Aid

World Central Kitchen works with local partners wherever they are providing food aid. They make sure meals and meal kits are what the local population eats. Even though there is no separate fundraising campaign for Ukraine (that I can see), they still do great work.

Animal Rescue

Hachiko Foundation works to help displaced pets and strays in frontline areas. They help with veterinary care, outdoor shelters, setting up feeding stations, and rehoming animals.

Medical Aid

Hospitallers (Website) is a volunteer organization of paramedics that was founded in 2014. They evacuate the wounded, provide medical aid on the frontlines, assist in rehabilitation, and transfer of the deceased to burial sites. They are also supported by Ukraine Charity. Visit Hospitallers' website to see how many they have evacuated, different methods you can donate, and more information about them.

Other

Saint Javelin (Twitter; Website) is a great place to get apparel, gear, and other cool loot to show your support for Ukraine. They don't take donations, but instead raise funds through their shop with a portion of their sales going towards humanitarian aid and critical items needed by the defenders (generators, pick-up trucks, medical supplies etc). Part of their shop has items made in Ukraine to support Ukrainian businesses. Overall, their products are high-quality. I include them due to their impactful presence in the Twitter community I follow and how they make Ukraine visible in an alternative way. Consider buying someone a gift from their shop.

The Kyiv Independent (Twitter; Website) is a great English language resource for news about Ukraine. I include them because I think supporting good journalism is incredibly important, especially now when the information space is fraught with Russian propaganda, misinformation, and disinformation. My followers have probably noticed I've pulled a lot of quotes from their stories in an effort to amplify Ukrainian voices and experiences. Look on their website for more information on different way to support them, such as their Patreon.

---

If you're on twitter, there are a number of groups and people that fundraise for Ukraine and for specific units fighting on the frontlines. If there is no official website, a PayPal for donations is listed in their profiles. When considering on whether to donate, always use your best judgement and donate to those you trust if you do not see what is listed is up to your standards.

@/Teoyaomiquu almost always has a fundraiser for Liberty Ukraine with a specified purpose. At the time of writing this, he is currently raising funds for engineering equipment such as excavators. One such excavator is already in Kursk. Follow him to stay up to date with what he's fundraising for.

Dyga's Paw (Twitter: @/dzygaspaw) is a smaller group that has recently raised funds for starlinks, drones, batteries, and Ecoflow generators. You can look at the fundraising campaigns they currently have on their website.

@/DefactoHumanity represents and founded Planet of the People with their website U(a)nited for Freedom. She frequently posts updates about their fundraisers and what their partners need. They are known for providing Frontline medical aid supplies, protective equipment and other military aid, technical equipment (starlinks, drones, scopes, etc), and infrastructure equipment (generators, vehicles, power stations, etc). They even have a merch store of the battalions they partner with if that's your jam. Here is their link tree if you wish to explore more. And in case you're curious, there is an article bout the founder here.

@/wilendhornets (Website) specialize in making high quality drones that have gotten a lot of praise from Ukraine's army. They have attracted a lot of media attention too. Check out their website for the list of articles that have been written about them. Their Twitter is very active with strike footage.

Ants Kitchen Hub (@/ants_kyiv) is a volunteer kitchen that makes dry rations for the Ukrainian army. They are more active on their other social media. To learn more about them, check out their link tree.

@/frontlinekit (Front Line Kitchen) is represented by Richard Woodruff. Originally they made shelf stable food for the Ukrainian army, but now their fundraising has branched out to other campaigns such as raising funds for medical supplies and drones. They are a well known group that many battalions have come to for help.

@/bekamaciorowski (Rebekah Maciorowski) is as combat medic and nurse who helps provide medical care to soldiers and civillians at the frontlines. She raises funds for medical supplies and other equipment, but also helps train soldiers in first aid. More of her social media that features her work can be found in her link tree.

@/UkraineAidOps (Website) is another organization battalions frequently go to for help. They fundraise for all sorts of equipment from medical supplies to drones. If you're interested, they also have a shop with patches from different brigades and flags signed by soldiers. Their shop also includes a separate section called the Victory Gallery where artifacts from the war are turned into art. This includes shells that are painted on, scrap metal from downed enemy planes are turned into keychains, and pieces of a rocket are turned into lamps.

Chris Garrett is the co-founder of Prevail. His organization deals with humanitarian demining as well as training for trauma care, training of bomb disposal, and education to the public. Prevail works with local agencies in Ukraine as well as the army.

Project Konstantin (Twitter; Website; Linktree) is still going strong after the death of their founder, British paramedic Peter Fouché. His digital ghost can be found here. They collaborate with the military, thus giving them an insight into what is dearly needed. They often raise funds for starlinks, personalized first aid kits (IFAKs), generators, portable power stations, and other nonlethal military equipment. I regret forgetting them the first time this post went around. Visit their website to see everything they have done and more. It has more information on what and how they do it than this post can cover.

One Team One Fight (Twitter; Website; Linktree) has some of the original members that worked for Ukraine Aid Ops. They formed their own group after differences with the previous one, and are still helping Ukraine. They are very visible on various social media showing what they have accomplished in their deliveries to various brigades. They're another group that seeks to bring starlinks, drones, medical supplies and protective gear to the battalions that come to them for help. Check out their website for more information on their current fundraisers, their achievements, and received recognition.

NAFO 69th Sniffing Brigade (Twitter; Website) Another small group that focuses their funds on delivering drones, generators, vehicles, and saving the occasional furry companion. They are very diligent in their updates for their fundraising campaigns. Check out their website for more information and the articles written about them.

Postmaster General Boomer (Twitter; Website) focuses on humanitarian aid, animal aid, and logistics. Boomer is the beloved pet of one of the founders and the secret boss/mascot. They have many transparency reports and are diligent in reporting the various "tours" they do in getting supplies where they are needed to go. They are based in Germany but have built up many connections during their existence. They have also worked closely with Ukraine Aid Ops.

--

I am sure I have forgotten some, so please reply or comment with any more I should add to this master post. I will edit and update as I see and evaluate more.

Last updated: Aug. 13th, 2024

Version updates listed below

August 13th, 2024 Added:

Hospitallers

Saint Javelin

The Kyiv Independent

Project Konstantin

1 Team 1 Fight

NAFO 69th Sniffing Brigade

Post Master General Boomer

[pennyellee]

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 - 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐁

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐔 title: champagne confetti - side B (part 2 of champagne confetti) pairings: heartthrob!jk, yandere!jk x fashion employee f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 18,4K beta read by @chaoticpuff17

main masterlist

Prompt 1:“you give me brand new emotion, you got me drinking that potion” Prompt 2:  The lines did blur, in his mind for sure. Will you be tamed or will your passion for fashion falter for greater good - a life without Jeon Jungkook. When everything you’ve worked for hangs in the balance, his twisted love comes as both a gift and a curse.

summary: You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

warnings: minors dni 18+ | physical violence, hint of incapable police department, jk is the boy saviour here and everybody bends backwards for his famous ass, dubious consent, possessive/obsessive behavior, emotional manipulation, references to medication that affects mental and physical responses as "drugs" or "pills" or "medication", power imbalance, themes of isolation and confinement, gaslighting, mentions of mafia and criminal underworld, forced intimacy, oral sex (m!receiving), numbness, reader's difficulties getting wet, use of lube, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding/cow girl, orgasm difficulties, creampie, and so on (if i'll forgot smth, im so soorrryy!)

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain strong language, explicit content, obsessive behaviour, alcohol drinking, abuse of medicine, illegal activities, oppressiveness, which we do not condone.

previously: 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 next:

author's note: happy new year to all of you! so, where to start right? this was a long ass ride, mainly because i was fighting with myself to not burn out on this fic coz i loved it so much, and i still love it, but i won't lie that i got lil overwhelmed with how much love this fic received and how much pressure i had to suppress to not decide to just not finish part two. I am so so so grateful for each and one of you! ♥ and thank you for your patience too. Life's not easy, please understand that, i always try my best. Thank you all.

On a different note, part two a.k.a side B content is most likely something you might or might not expect to happen. And while I understand that many of you might not like where the narrative is headed, I humbly ask you to express your opinions in a nice and respectful way. If you wish to treat champagne confetti as a one-shot, I suggest you to not read part two, naturally.

1996 If they asked you how you managed to slip away when he had you in his grasp, ready to pull you back upstairs, you wouldn’t know the answer. That night became blurrier each day. All you remember is the rush of adrenaline as you pushed through the crowd, your heart racing with each step that took you further away from him.

If they asked how you ended up in the New York City police department, drenched in a flimsy pyjamas with an empty black file you once thought was your portfolio, shivering from the cold and sheer panic coursing through your veins, you wouldn’t know the answer.

If they asked how Jeon Jungkook picked you up not even thirty minutes later, knowing exactly which department you were at before you even managed to get your bearings and speak of what had happened to you, you wouldn’t know.

Apparently, you head-butted Jeon Jungkook. Well, that would explain why you were arrested and why he picked you up, ensuring the officers wouldn’t press charges against you.

Why didn’t you say anything to the officers, you may ask. Unless you did.

"You’re arresting me for what?! SELF-DEFENSE, MOTHERFUCKER, KIDNA—"

"Baby, that’s enough already. I’m so sorry, officer. I threw her birth control away by accident—"

That’s what he told them. You got into a fight over birth control, ran away in the heat of the moment, and accidentally head-butted him. You could still see the dried blood under his nose. His whole story felt like one truth mixed with lies, but you may not remember much. You certainly didn’t head-butt him by accident. You would never miss such a exquisite chance, god forbid.

"Are you seriously going to believe that sh—"

"Sir, she’s clearly having an episode. I’m so sorry about this," Jungkook’s voice dripped with concern as he addressed the officers, his hand running through his hair in apparent distress.

"Listen, you little—" your words were cut off by one of the officers raising his hand.

"Ma’am, please calm down. Mr. Jeon here is a respected man. These accusations you’re making are very serious."

"But he’s lying! He’s manipulating everything!—" your voice cracked with desperation.

"She’s been under a lot of stress lately," Jungkook interjected smoothly, fixing his gray zip-up hoodie, all dry unlike your clothing. "The fashion industry can be brutal. I’ve been trying to help her cope."

The officers exchanged knowing looks, their expressions softening as they regarded Jungkook with sympathy. One of them nodded understandingly, "We see these situations more often than you’d think, sir."

"I can take care of her from here," Jungkook assured them, his voice honey-sweet but his eyes cold as steel. "She just needs rest and her medication."

You watched in horror as the officers began nodding, your truth dissolving in the face of his perfectly crafted lies. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as you realized no one was going to believe you over him. He made you look like a psycho.

So, if they asked how in God’s name you ended up being led back to the glass cage you vacated only a few hours ago, with memories flashing before your eyes like a broken film reel, you wouldn’t know. Because that shit is straight-up unbelievable.

Each moment felt disjointed and surreal, a series of fragmented thoughts punctuated by Jungkook’s voice, smooth and calming yet laced with menace.

As he guided you back through the sleek hallways of the penthouse, the familiar opulence felt suffocating. The delicate decor, once a sign of luxury, now seemed to mock you. Jungkook’s hand rested on your lower back, a possessive gesture that sent chills down your spine.

"I hate you," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could rein them in.

Jungkook paused, the hand on your lower back tightening just enough to make you flinch. His gaze locked onto yours, those dark eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite decipher—was it anger, or something more akin to hurt? The sharp intake of breath that followed felt like a crack in his carefully crafted facade, and for a fleeting moment, the man behind the mask was revealed.

"No, you don’t. You don’t know what you feel," he replied, his voice low and steady, like the calm before a storm. The tightening grip on your back felt almost protective, but the intensity of his gaze was unnerving.

"I know enough. I know you’re trying to control every aspect of my life. You can’t keep me locked away forever."

"Locked away?" he echoed, the corner of his mouth twitching in a sardonic smile. "Is that how you see this? This is a sanctuary, a place where you’re safe. I’ve given you everything, Y/N."

"Everything?" you scoffed, your voice trembling with disbelief and rage. "You’ve taken everything from me, and now you added my dignity to the collection." The words hung heavy in the air between you, and for a moment, you caught a glimpse of something dangerous flickering in his eyes. 

"Well fucking done, Jeon–"

"Well fucking done, YOU!" He interrupted with his voice laced with anger. 

"How do you imagine me trusting you after the stunt you just pulled?!" He turned to face you abruptly, screaming those words into your face. 

"You are one to talk, Jeon! That baby room upstairs speaks volumes, you fucker!" Jungkook’s face turned pale, his eyes widening with genuine surprise.

"You went into the baby room?" His voice was a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t quite place—fear, perhaps?

"You hid the portfolio there, of course, I did."

"That room was supposed to be a surprise," he growled, stepping closer until you could feel his breath on your face.

"You had to ruin it."

"Surprise?" you shot back, your voice rising. "You can’t force a future on me that I don’t want, you moron!"

His hand shot out, gripping your arm tightly. "You think you have a choice in this?" he hissed. "You think you can just walk away and pretend none of this ever happened?"

"I know I can," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of fear and defiance. "And I will. You don’t own me."

Jungkook’s grip tightened, his face inches from yours. "You’re mine, Y/N. You always have been. And you always will be.”

"You’re insane," you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. You saw the change in color in his eyes when you said those words. With a burst of adrenaline, you yanked your arm from Jungkook’s grip and bolted up the stairs, his furious shouts echoing behind you. Your feet barely touched the steps as you flew toward the recording room, heart pounding with fear. Bursting into the room, you slammed the door behind you, your eyes locking onto the recording booth.

Jungkook stormed in moments later, his face contorted with rage. "I’m gonna fucking teach you a lesson, you ungrateful brat!" he bellowed, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

You held perfectly still, watching as he moved closer to the recording booth. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat echoing like a drum in your ears. He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering around the room, before stepping into the booth.

As soon as he was inside, you sprang into action. You dashed towards the door, slamming it shut and locking it with trembling hands. Jungkook’s eyes widened in shock as he realized what had happened, and he lunged towards the door just as you secured the lock.

"What the fuck, Y/N!" he roared, pounding on the glass. "Let me out!"

Ignoring his furious shouts, you grabbed a nearby chair and wedged it under the doorknob, barricading the door. You took a step back, breathing hard, and met his furious gaze through the glass.

"This ends now."

You ran through the penthouse, desperate to escape before Jungkook could free himself.

As you reached the front door and yanked it open, you collided with a solid figure, stumbling back. You looked up to see a man with dark hair and intense eyes, his expression a mix of surprise and concern.

"Who the hell are you?" you snapped, your voice trembling with fear and adrenaline.

"Min Yoongi," he replied, his tone calm yet probing. "I’m a doctor. Jungkook called me—"

Panic surged through you, but you forced yourself to stay composed. "We don’t need a doctor. Jungkook is sleeping anyway," you lied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"He must have forgotten he even called you—"

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed as he took in your disheveled state, your pajamas still not dry, and the raw fear in your eyes.

"You look terrified," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "Are you sure everything’s alright?”

Your chest tightened, a wave of panic rising. You needed to get rid of him—fast.

"Really, Yoongi-doctor-whatever, it’s fine. I just need some rest—" You cut yourself off, realizing you were only digging yourself into a deeper hole. Yoongi looked unconvinced, his gaze piercing as he studied you.

Before you could finish, a loud crash echoed from upstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Your heart skipped a beat, and your mind raced, knowing Jungkook must have escaped the recording booth.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered towards the noise, his expression darkening with suspicion. "What was that?" he asked, his voice laced with concern and suspicion. Your mind raced, trying to think of an excuse, but you knew it was futile.

"It’s nothing," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Probably just some stuff falling ov—" that’s when an even louder crash sound echoed. Yes. He is totally out of there. You couldn’t hold back anymore. 

"Fuck!" you muttered under your breath, closing your eyes as you listened to Jungkook’s heavy footsteps. You could sense the rage in every thud. The tension between you thickened, your body shaking as his furious footsteps grew closer from upstairs. You could hear him bellowing for you, rattling the doors in his rage. The time to make a run for it was slipping away.

"I need to get out of here. Please, you have to help me," you pleaded, turning to Yoongi.

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he looked at you—his gaze unreadable, as if he was weighing something in his mind. After a beat, he spoke again, his voice clipped and cold.

"Don’t be like the others, Y/N."

You froze at his words, your blood running cold. "The others?" you whispered, barely able to comprehend what he was implying.

Yoongi didn’t elaborate, but the weight of his gaze told you everything you needed to know. The look in his eyes wasn’t one of compassion—it was something darker, more knowing.

Yoongi’s gaze was locked on you, but you couldn’t afford to stop, couldn’t afford to hesitate—not when Jungkook’s rage was closing in on you, his every step a reminder of how little time you had left. Without warning, you darted toward him, trying to push past him. Yoongi moved in response, stepping into your path, his cold gaze never leaving yours.

"You're not leaving," he repeated, his voice quieter now, but no less firm. His presence was like a wall, blocking every path of escape. You didn’t stop. You tried to shoulder past him, using every ounce of strength and fear-fueled desperation to break free, but his arm shot out, grabbing your wrist with an iron grip.

"Let go of me!" you hissed, thrashing in his hold.

Yoongi’s expression remained impassive, but you could see the subtle shift in his stance as he tightened his grip. He wasn’t letting go, not without a fight. You yanked your free hand back, driving it forward with all the force you could muster, slamming it into Yoongi’s chest.

"He said you’re a good girl, but all I see is a brat who needs to be tamed," he warned, his voice steady but sharp. You fought him again, but the door seemed impossibly far, and Jungkook was just moments away.

In that moment, all you could do was scream.

You slowly woke up, the soft hum of voices drifting into your awareness before the world around you even began to make sense. At first, there was nothing more than a distant buzz, the kind that lingers when you’re still trapped between sleep and reality. But as the fog in your mind began to lift, the sound of two familiar voices cut through the haze—Jungkook’s, low and impatient, and Yoongi’s, calm and cold.

You blinked slowly, your eyelids heavy as if you’d been drugged, though you couldn’t be sure. You tried to sit up, but your body felt sluggish, unwilling to obey. Everything seemed wrong. The weight on your chest. The thickness in your head.

"She’s still out of it?" Jungkook’s voice, sharp and worried, came from somewhere nearby.

You tried to focus, but the disorientation kept you from piecing together the words. Still, you could feel the presence of both men—close, but not yet in your line of sight.

"She's sleeping," Yoongi’s voice was colder than you remembered, a warning in its tone. You instinctively tried to move, but your limbs refused to cooperate. Panic threatened to claw its way to the surface, but you pushed it down, trying to stay composed. You couldn’t be weak. Not now.

"She’s stubborn," Jungkook murmured, frustration evident in his voice. "You know she’ll never accept it. If I show her the truth, she’ll run again."

Yoongi’s laughter was light, but there was no warmth in it. "You sound like Namjoon."

"How is Peaches?"

There was a pause, thick with unspoken tension, before Yoongi continued, his words measured but still carrying an undercurrent of something darker.

"Her recovery... is progressing very well. She’s strong. Stronger than we probably thought."

"That’s good to hear."

"You can mend the wounds, but the mind... that’s another matter. She won't be the same." You flinched at his words. What happened to the woman they are talking about?

"But that essentially works in Namjoon’s favor."

Jungkook’s voice grew quiet at Yoongi’s words, the weight of the implication settling between them like a heavy shroud.

"How so?" His tone held a mixture of confusion and curiosity, but there was an underlying edge, as if he didn’t fully trust where this conversation was heading.

"Namjoon... He’s always been good at seeing people as they are. He doesn’t need to force things. He knows how to manipulate the mind. To make someone want to comply."

Jungkook remained silent for a long moment. His breath was audible, shallow and strained, and you could almost feel his inner conflict.

"Well, I should stop by for a crash course ’cause apparently I cannot move this one," Jungkook huffed, frustrated. Yoongi’s laughter again, light but tinged with something darker this time.

"You need to claim her, make it official. Show the world that she’s yours." Your pulse quickened, and your mind started to get dizzy again.

"She’s already in your head. You think it’s the running that’s hurting you? No, Jungkook. It’s the fact that she’s living in your thoughts, in your every decision. You’ll bend over backward for her, but she’ll never respect you for it. She needs to see you take control. Then she’ll respect you. Then she’ll stay."

"How am I supposed to make her mine when she keeps running? My original plan is fucked; she saw the baby room, hyung."

"You’re overthinking it, Jungkook. She’s already seen it, so what? It’s not a crime to want a child, for fuck’s sake."

"She saw the future I was building for us, and she’s already rejecting it."

Yoongi let out a slow, calculated breath, his voice steady as he responded. "She’s rejecting it because you haven’t made her understand it yet. She doesn’t know what’s good for her. You’ve given her too many choices, Jungkook. You’ve let her think she has the power to decide. And look where that’s gotten you. She’s running, isn’t she?"

There was a pause. You could almost hear Jungkook’s thoughts racing as the truth of Yoongi’s words sunk in.

"You’ve got to take control of the situation, Jungkook. Make her see that there’s no running, no escaping, that there’s no reason to!--" he raised his voice an octave higher before he hushed it again when Jungkook motioned urgently to prevent from waking you up.

"Make her see that you’re the one who decides her future now. You’ve made all this for her—don’t let it slip away just because she’s scared."

"I don’t want her to be scared… I want her to want me." The weight of their expectations, of what Jungkook was being urged to do, twisted in your chest like a growing storm.

"Well, if this won’t work, we can think of something more—"

"Permanent."

The idea hit you like a punch to the gut. The thought of being pushed into a corner, with no choice but to accept the suffocating control, twisted your insides. This wasn’t love. This wasn’t a partnership. This was manipulation. But they didn’t care. They never did.

As you lay there, helpless and broken, the seeds of doubt and fear began to take root in your mind. Would you ever be able to escape? It was too much to listen to, and you don’t remember at what point in their conversation you fell back asleep.

"Sedate her, if you have to," Yoongi continued, his tone smooth but dangerous. "Keep her compliant. Keep her obedient. She can’t fight you if she doesn’t have the strength to."

"Once she’s fed up with all the side effects, she’ll do anything to stop it—"

"If she’s weakened, if she’s broken down enough, she’ll have no choice but to comply."

"What if she’s pregnant, hyung?" he asked, hope and worry evident in his tone. Yoongi rolled his eyes and sighed out of frustration.

"You boys should realize that pregnancy does not have to happen after you stick it in once, for fuck’s sake."

You woke up to the sound of running water, the steady rhythm of droplets hitting tile. Your head still felt thick, the remnants of whatever drugs they’d given you making it hard to fully shake off the fog. As you struggled to sit up, the door to the bathroom opened, and a cloud of steam billowed out. Jungkook emerged, a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair damp and tousled from the shower.

Your eyes instinctively scanned his body, taking in the intricate tattoos that decorated his arm. Each one seemed to tell a story, a piece of the puzzle that was Jeon Jungkook. He caught your gaze and threw a smirk your way as he began to dry his hair with another towel.

"You cooled down a little?" he asked, his tone light but with an underlying tension.

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry. "What did you give me?" you managed to croak out.

"Just something to help you rest," he replied, stepping closer to the bed. "You were exhausted, and I needed you to stay put."

"Stay put?" you repeated, trying to muster some anger, but the drugs still held you in their grip. "You drugged me, Jungkook."

"To protect you," he said, his voice firm. "And to protect us. This running has to stop, love. There is no getting away and that’s final."

You tried to sit up straighter, but your body refused to cooperate. "How is this supposed to work between us?" you asked, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You can’t just keep me here like this."

Jungkook sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "I know it’s not ideal, but I want to make this work. You just need to trust me."

"Trust you?" you scoffed, though it lacked the bite you intended.

"Yes, love, trust me." He moved closer, his presence overwhelming as he sat on the edge of the bed. You wanted to speak up, but he was faster.

"You are confused—"

"Confused?" you interrupted, your voice a weak protest. "I know exactly what’s going on."

"You think you do," he countered softly, "but you don’t see the full picture. You don’t see how much I care about you, how much I’m willing to sacrifice to keep you safe."

"Safe?" you echoed, feeling a mix of frustration and helplessness.

"Yes, and before you think of snooping around the penthouse again, your portfolio is already in the hands of someone who can give you a very high-profile job." You stared at him, processing his words through the haze. 

"I kept my promise," his eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. It was never here, and the file you thought your portfolio was in, was just scribbles of something incoherent. You made a mistake. You should have given up the portfolio and just built your career from the ground up again. Or you should have never met Jeon Jungkook. Never given him the chance to fall in love with you, lure you in, and lastly fuck you good. Way too good.

"At what cost, Jungkook? My independence?"

His expression softened slightly, though his resolve remained.

"You need to stop fighting me. You need to see that this is for the best—"

He climbed onto the bed, his towel barely clinging to his hips as he moved closer to you. His presence was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of fear and reluctant fascination. He leaned over you, his lips brushing against your ear.

"I want you to succeed," he whispered. "But you need to stop running for that to happen and let me take care of you."

Before you could respond, he captured your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It was a stark contrast to the confusion and fear swirling inside you, and for a moment, you found yourself melting into it.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. With that, he settled beside you, keeping you close and, as if it were a peace offering, he said:

"Friends is on the telly. Wanna watch?"

You stood under the shower, the warm water cascading over your body, trying to wash away the heaviness that clung to your every move. Despite the soothing temperature, you couldn't shake the lethargy that had settled deep in your bones. The antidepressants Jungkook insisted you take were doing their job, keeping you subdued, but they also left you feeling like a shell of yourself. You did not want to scream or argue. You had no strength to fight him; all you felt was a twisted, strange calmness. 

The door was unlocked as there was nothing to lock them with, and he even insisted that wherever you are in the penthouse, the door will never be shut fully or you’ll lose the privilege to be alone even for a second. It was the aftermath of your little stunt in which you locked him in his recording booth and the state Jungkook left it in was not pleasant for the eye.

As you stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around yourself, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. The person staring back at you seemed distant, a shadow of who you used to be. You had lost some weight, something Jungkook had noticed too, as his cooking became very carb- and protein-oriented.

In the kitchen, the smell of cooking filled the air. Jungkook was at the stove, focused on preparing breakfast while the stereo was on in the living room just like every morning. This time, he put the whole SWV album on repeat. You mentioned you liked girl groups. So now he plays girl groups in the mornings. The sight of him in his domestic element would have been comforting if not for the circumstances. Body covered by a large black shirt, his tattooed arm moved with precision, flipping whatever was on the pan and stirring a pot of something that smelled sweet.

"Morning," you said softly, your voice still raspy from sleep.

He turned, a smile spreading across his face. "Good morning, love. Did you sleep well?"

You nodded, though sleep had been fitful at best. "Yeah, better. Thanks."

In normal circumstances, you could imagine yourself sassing some nasty remark his way, but somehow that is not what your brain thinks of anymore.

"Good," he replied, his eyes flicking over you with an unreadable expression. "Breakfast will be ready soon. Take a seat, baby."

You moved to the table, your legs still unsteady. The medication made it hard to feel grounded, and you grasped the back of a chair to steady yourself. As you sat down, a memory flashed through your mind, a moment that made your stomach churn.

It had been a week ago, or maybe more. Time blurred under the constant influence of the drugs. You had missed a dose, intentionally, hoping for a moment of clarity. But Jungkook had noticed the difference in your demeanor almost immediately.

"Take it," he had ordered, his voice devoid of its usual warmth.

You had refused, shaking your head, trying to stand your ground. But the look in his eyes had shifted from concern to something darker, more desperate.

Before you could react, he had grabbed you, forcing you down onto the bed. The pills were shoved into your mouth, and he held your nose, forcing you to swallow. Tears had streamed down your face, the bitter taste lingering long after the pills had gone down.

"Don’t make me do this again," he had whispered, his voice breaking with frustration. "Just take them Y/N."

Since then, you had complied, taking the pills under his watchful eye, the memory of that night a constant reminder of what defiance would bring.

Jungkook set a plate of pancakes in front of you, breaking your reverie. "Eat up," he said, his tone softer now. "You’ve lost some weight."

You picked up a fork, your hand trembling slightly. As you took a bite, he sat across from you, watching you closely. The silence between you was heavy, filled with unspoken words and lingering tension. This is so fucking awkward.

"I, um…" you began, hesitating. "I need something."

"What is it?" he asked, his gaze never leaving your face.

"I need some Tampax."

Jungkook's expression hardened at your request, his jaw tightening. The silence stretched uncomfortably as he processed your words. "Tampax," he repeated, his voice flat.

You nodded, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. "Yes. I..I got my period."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his damp hair.

"I thought you to be pregnant," he muttered, more to himself than to you. His frustration was palpable, the air thick with it.

"I'm sorry," you said automatically, though the apology felt hollow. What were you even apologizing for? For your body doing what it was supposed to do? For disappointing him? Why would you say that? Something flickered in his eyes when you said that, though.

"Can I go with you?" you asked carefully.

Jungkook's eyes shifted, darkening as he processed your question. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the air seemed to thicken with tension. He remained silent, staring at you as if weighing something in his mind. You haven’t been out in what seems like a month. You wouldn’t know; he took out every single thing that indicated time or date, just as he made all the doors lack the keys so you wouldn’t ever lock him or yourself somewhere. But you have been behaving, and looking at Manhattan through the thick glass windows was just not enough anymore. He did not even let you step on the balcony.

"Where?" he asked, his voice low and guarded.

You flinched, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "To the store. To get the...tampons."

"I can take care of it—"

"Kookie, please."

The softness in your voice seemed to catch him off guard. His expression faltered for a moment, a brief flicker of uncertainty flashing in his eyes before he composed himself. Jungkook's hand gripped the back of the chair as if fighting the urge to reach for you, to demand that you stay where you were.

"Please," you repeated, your voice barely a whisper now, trying to steady the trembling in your chest. "I just want to... feel normal, just for a moment. Please, Kookie."

His gaze shifted from you to the window, the silence between you thick and heavy, suffocating. The idea of letting you go outside, even though he would be right there, scared him, and it was evident in how reluctant he was whilst granting you this plea.

"I promise I’ll behave—" you added quickly, your voice barely audible as you tried to make him see that this wasn't about defiance, but about a small piece of normalcy that you so desperately needed.

Jungkook stood frozen for a moment, the weight of your words hanging in the air like a fragile thread, ready to snap. He looked at you, eyes dark with something close to frustration, but there was a vulnerability too. You could see it in the tightness of his jaw, in the way his hands twitched, as though he was battling with himself.

Finally, he let out a slow breath, exhaling through his nose like a release of tension. "Fine," he muttered, the word falling between you like a reluctant concession.

"But you won’t get out of my sight." Jungkook continued, his voice hardening, as if the promise of letting you go outside came with an unspoken condition he couldn’t shake off.

You nodded, accepting his terms without argument. You didn’t have the strength to fight him on this, nor did you have the energy to explain that you weren’t asking for much.

A simple errand, just a quick trip.

"Let’s go, then," he said, his voice gruff.

You stood up, feeling the weakness in your legs from the antidepressants. They made you compliant, dulled your senses. Jungkook’s arm slid around your waist, his grip firm and possessive. You didn’t have the strength to resist.

Dressing was always a slow process for you, but this time for a different reason. While before you did not know what to choose to wear, now you just didn’t feel like dressing up. You chose simple clothes, if that word was ever even in your vocabulary – it is now. But when you looked upon your grey Max Mara coat with fur on the hem of its sleeves, you could not keep trying to hold on to some semblance of normalcy. You longed to be you again.

Jungkook’s eyes never left you. Not when you pulled on the last piece of clothing, not when you sat down to zip up your boots, and not when he put a warm scarf around your neck to keep you from the cold of December.

The car ride to the store was silent except for the radio that proudly played Christmas classics. You had to chuckle a little when you heard his voice playing from the radio of his reimagination of Oh Holy Night. It’s the time of the year, and you did not even realize how agonizingly slow time was in that penthouse. You stared out the window at the bustling streets of Manhattan, the snow-covered pavements, people all around. It was overwhelming, the normalcy of it all.

You walked into D'Agostino, and his hand never left yours while the other was pushing the trolley through the aisles. You looked at him, the sweater complimenting his build, his big brown coat on top of that.

You moved through the aisles, adding items to the cart under his watchful eye.

When you reached the health aisle, his grip tightened. You glanced up to see him slipping a box of pregnancy tests into the cart. Your heart sank, but you said nothing. That was what he was waiting for – to give him a reason to punish you in whatever way he pleased. But you wouldn’t give him that. Nonetheless, the implication was clear, and sooner or later you would have to fight him on that.

"Just in case," he mumbled.

As you turned the corner, you nearly collided with a couple that looked oddly familiar. They didn’t look normal, not in the way people usually did. There was something off about them, something familiar in a way that made your chest tighten. But you couldn’t put your finger on it.

"Jungkookie! Didn’t expect to see you here," the man said, his tone casual but with an underlying edge. His eyes lit up when he saw Jungkook, and it wasn’t hard to sense that they were far more than just friends. The man wore similar attire to Jungkook but in darker colors, his whole aura projecting wealth and power. She, on the other hand, was adorned in a striking red coat, her pregnant belly barely concealed beneath it. The red was too bright, too vivid, and you couldn’t ignore how much attention they drew, even in a crowd.

"Just running some errands. You know how it is." Jungkook’s voice and smile were thin, like something else was at play beneath his words. You could feel the tension in his body as he shifted slightly to face them. Was he scared of you misbehaving? Or acting up? Just what was going on in his head right now?

"Y/N, this is Jung Hoseok and his wife." There was a brief pause, his words heavy with something unspoken. Jung fucking Hoseok. You knew that name, knew the stories. The man was a businessman of the highest order, owning the distilleries producing the finest whiskey and brandy carrying the Jung’s and Kim’s name. He had nothing and everything at once with that fucking mullet. 

"Hoseok, Princess - this is Y/N."

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than comfortable. His smile was smooth, disarming, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was a predator in the shape of a man.

"Nice to meet you, welcome to the family," he said smoothly, his tone warm, but his eyes glinted with something that made you feel as if he was evaluating you like a piece of merchandise. It was a greeting, but it didn’t feel like one. There was no warmth in it, no welcome. Not yet. 

It was ownership, as if he was claiming you as kin before you even had a chance to understand what was happening. You could barely move, trapped in his gaze, in the suffocating air thick with tension. And then there was the mention of "family."

Family?

Your mind scrambled to understand the connection. What the hell did Hoseok have to do with Jungkook? Was this some business partner? Some associate? And then you remembered the stories—Jung Hoseok, the name whispered in the same breath as the Jung family distilleries, their illegal dealings. Alcohol, drugs, money, power... and whatever the hell was happening behind the scenes that you didn’t even begin to comprehend.

Jungkook’s hand clenched around yours, his body rigid as if daring you to question his actions. But you already knew—there was no room for questions here. No room for defiance. No room for anything other than what he allowed.

You felt a shiver race up your spine as Mrs. Jung—Princess—smiled sadly, her eyes flicking between you and Jungkook. She tilted her head, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to close in. Her eyes held something unsettling—empathy, maybe, but also something darker. She wasn’t looking at you with pity; it felt more like an understanding of the kind of life you were being thrust into. A life you couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard you tried.

Her smile deepened, but the sadness never left her eyes.

"I hope you’re adjusting well," she said softly, her voice carrying an air of familiarity, but it was cold beneath the sweetness. "It’s a big change, isn’t it?"

Her words were innocent on the surface, but you knew better. They were a reminder of the power dynamic at play here, a subtle reaffirmation of your place in their world. You were still the outsider, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself otherwise, you were still under their watch, under their control. No freedom would ever be guaranteed.

Jungkook’s hand tightened around yours, the possessive pressure grounding you back in the moment. His gaze flicked from Mrs. Jung to Hoseok and then to you, an unreadable look passing across his face. He was silent for a moment, but the tension between the four of you was palpable, almost suffocating.

"Do you think you’ll make it to the Christmas gathering, Kook?" Hoseok asked, his voice smooth, his eyes glinting between you and him. As if he were asking whether you are ready to be part of the family.

His eyes darted to you, as if measuring whether or not you would speak, or even if you would understand what was actually happening.

"I’m not sure, Hyung," Jungkook finally answered, his voice colder than it had been moments ago. His grip on your hand remained firm, a silent warning that nothing about this encounter was casual, nor were any of you truly free.

"We’ll see."

Hoseok chuckled softly, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms as if the conversation were some kind of game to him—one where he already knew the outcome. The tension was suffocating. Every word, every gesture was an unspoken measure of who had the power and who had none.

"Well," Hoseok continued, "I’m sure we’ll all be expecting you there. It’s a family affair, after all. Wouldn’t want anyone to feel... excluded." He gave a small nod, and the implication wasn’t lost on you.

"Peaches wanted to talk to you for some time, Kook."

He visibly stiffened, his body language shifting into something more guarded. His fingers tightened around yours, the possessive grip now tinged with something darker, like a warning, a reminder of who he was and who you weren’t.

The mention of Peaches—and her connection to whatever the hell was going on—left you unsettled. Another piece of the puzzle that you didn’t understand, but felt creeping closer with every passing moment.

"Yeah, I know," was all Jungkook said. His tone brooked no argument. Who is she? What was her connection to Jungkook, and why did his entire demeanor shift the moment her name was mentioned?

Hoseok, watching the two of you closely, seemed to relish the silence that followed. He leaned in just slightly, eyes flicking between you and Jungkook, measuring something unseen. Just what is he trying to achieve?

His eyes never left Jungkook, but his words were directed at both of you. "She’s been wanting to have a chat for a while. About everything."

"Don’t worry about it, we’ll talk soon, Hyung," Jungkook finally muttered, his gaze turning toward you, softening for just a moment.

But the unease in his voice didn’t fool you. The more he avoided talking about Peaches, the more you knew there was something lurking beneath the surface. Something he was hiding. Something you weren’t meant to see. And it only made you feel more trapped.

Jungkook’s grip on your hand tightened so much that you winced, but you dared not say anything. His eyes flicked from Hoseok to Mrs. Jung, his expression unreadable. There was something cold in his gaze now, something sharp, but it was directed outward—at them.

The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken war fought with words, smiles, and a look that only people like them would understand. And then, just as quickly, the moment passed.

"Well, we won’t keep you," Hoseok said, his gaze lingering on you just a moment longer. His smile never faltered, but the weight of it made you feel small, insignificant.

"It was nice finally meeting you, Y/N."

Her name resonated in your head for a while before you gathered the courage to actually ask. There must be a reason why not one but two people had already talked to Jungkook about this Peaches. Who in the world names their child Peaches? Anyway, the way his demeanor shifted at the mention of her name left you with more questions than answers. You did not know why. This should not bother you at all.

Despite Jungkook’s attempts to reassure you that nothing was going to change, the nagging feeling of being kept in the dark gnawed at you. You had become part of his world, yet there were so many aspects of it that remained a mystery. Who exactly is Jeon Jungkook if not a popular heartthrob of this generation?

One evening, as you sat in the penthouse, the silence was interrupted by the soft strains of a piano melody drifting through the space. Jungkook was at the grand piano, his fingers gliding over the keys with a grace that belied the tension that seemed to have settled over him. You watched him for a moment, the music a temporary balm to the unease that had been building between you.

Taking a deep breath, you decided it was time to address the elephant in the room. "Jungkook," you called softly, walking over to where he sat. He looked up, his expression guarded but not unkind. You did not really express any affections towards him as of late. And apparently, he was giving you space to come to him yourself. How generous after what he has done to keep you here.

"Yeah, baby?"

You took a seat beside him on the piano bench, your fingers lightly brushing the keys. You sighed loudly because you couldn't believe you were actually going to ask him that.

"Who is Peaches?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly. More from embarrassment than fear of his reaction. Jungkook’s expression shifted, a playful glint appearing in his eyes.

"Hm, someone sounds jealous?" he asked, his tone light and teasing. Obviously, that was the first thing he was going to ask.

You flushed, feeling your cheeks heat up at his question. "No, I’m not jealous," you retorted quickly, but the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. Were you not?

Jungkook’s grin widened, and he leaned closer, his face just inches from yours. "Oh, really?" he murmured, his voice low and mischievous.

"Because it sounds like you might be a little bit jealous." You turned your head away, trying to hide the embarrassment creeping up your neck, interplaying with frustration that was very much successfully toned down by the number of pills you’d taken this morning.

"I could not give a flying fuck, Jungkook, I’m just curious."

"A flying fuck, huh?" he repeated, his tone laced with amusement. Jungkook chuckled, the sound low and rich, his breath warm against your cheek.

He reached out and gently turned your face back to him, his fingers light on your chin.

"Peaches is Kim Namjoon’s fiancée," his tone softening but the amusement still present in his eyes. You could feel the tension in his fingers as he held your chin, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. And you could also not miss how the little ball of nerves you had in your chest suddenly evaporated. 

You blinked, trying to process the information. "Namjoon’s fiancée?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. You knew Namjoon as the man next to Jungkook in the majority of the photographs he had hanging up, and you recall him talking about this Namjoon even before you got yourself into this situation. Jungkook looked up to Namjoon. The name carried weight, and you could see why Jungkook might be protective over such a significant part of his and his family’s life.

"I saved her life."

His words hung in the air, adding another layer to the mystery surrounding Jungkook and the world he was a part of.

"You saved her life?" you repeated, your voice softening. The weight of his words began to sink in, and you could see the depth of his connection to this woman named Peaches.

Jungkook nodded, his fingers still gently holding your chin. "Yeah, I did," he said quietly.

"H…how?" He seemed to be weighing his words carefully, the playful glint in his eyes dimming slightly. It was obvious. He wouldn’t tell you.

"I’m not sure you’re ready to know all of it at once," he said gently, his thumb brushing your skin. "But what you need to understand is that everything I’ve done, everything I’m doing, is for the good of the family."

"Are you like…Hoseok?" you asked, your voice wavering just slightly as you tried to make sense of everything. Jungkook leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he processed your question. He tilted his head, almost as if he were weighing your words. His fingers, which had been so tender on your chin, slowly slipped away, leaving a cool emptiness behind.

"Depends on who you think Hoseok is?" he replied, his voice light, but there was an underlying edge to it—a hint of something he wasn’t quite ready to share. You frowned, not fully understanding.

"Everybody knows who he is, Gguk." Jungkook’s lips curled into a small, amused smile at your bluntness. The nickname "Gguk" rolled off your tongue like it had been there all along, and for a brief moment, his usual playful demeanor flickered back, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. His gaze softened just a little, but the weight of the conversation hung heavy between you.

"He’s mafio—"

"Yeah, I know what everyone thinks.." Jungkook’s lips quirked into that familiar smile, but this time it was tinged with something a little darker.

"You think Hoseok’s just some dangerous guy who gets his hands dirty, but it’s more than that. It’s about belonging."

"It’s not all suits and guns and power plays. There’s a whole other side to it—" he continued. You tilted your head, not sure if you were entirely following what he was saying.

"Jungkook, I thought you were a goddamn heart-crushing pop-star." He laughed.

"I’ve been everything the world thinks I am, but that’s not all."

"But… you’re not like Hoseok, though, right?" you asked, needing reassurance that he wasn’t too far gone. Jungkook’s gaze softened as he looked at you, his fingers now tracing small patterns on the back of your hand.

"No, I’m just a heart-crushing popstar," he said finally, his voice amused.

"I am still very much part of the family though,—"

"You’re part of it now too. Whether you like it or not. And I’ll protect you. I’ll make sure you’re safe."

The sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. You wanted to believe him. You needed to believe him. But the weight of the world he was offering you was far heavier than you had imagined.

"That’s how we roll." 

His fingers continued their slow, deliberate tracing on your hand, a reminder that he had all the control here. You pulled your hand away from his, shaking your head, your chest tightening as you tried to keep your emotions in check. He looked confused for a moment and undoubtedly started to question whether you’d taken your medication or found a way to sneak past his watchful eye.

"You’ll understand why eventually," he murmured, his voice low and sure, as if he were speaking a truth you weren’t yet ready to hear.

And then, before you could say another word, his lips were on yours again—slow, but with a possessiveness that sent a shiver through you. It was suffocating in its intensity, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, trapped in the haze of his touch, the drug in your system, the desperate need to find some kind of relief. To feel something else rather than the empty numbness of your brain.

The medication, the constant monitoring, the suffocating feeling of being trapped in your own mind—it all faded into the background as Jungkook's kiss deepened, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips, sending sparks of sensation through your numbness. You felt yourself getting lost in the intensity of the moment, your hands rising to grasp his shoulders, pulling him closer as if trying to anchor yourself to something, anything, that felt real.

The possessiveness in his kiss was almost palpable, a reminder that he was in control, and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to care, too caught up in the desperation to feel something, anything, that wasn't the dull, hollow ache of your own emptiness.

Your thighs spread wide as you settled onto his lap, the hardness of his erection pressing against your core, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. 

You did not stay in this state of mind for too long though.

"I don’t want this Jungkook."

Jungkook's kiss paused for a fraction of a second, the softness in his movements turning sharper, as if the words you spoke were a challenge, one he wasn’t ready to hear. His breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling with the rapid rhythm of his pulse. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense, like he was searching for something—an answer, an explanation, perhaps even your submission.

"You don’t want this?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying sharpness to it, a hint of disbelief. His thumb brushed lightly across your bottom lip, his touch almost possessive, as if claiming that too.

"I…I don’t know." The confusion in your words only seemed to fuel something inside him—a deepening desire, a need to pull you even closer, to make you feel as though you were already lost to him.

His hands roamed, shifting to your back, pulling you against him with a force that made your heart race, your breath hitch. He was strong, too strong, and as much as you wanted to push him away, your body—distant, clouded by the drugs, the numbness—reacted to him, betraying the words that your mind screamed.

"You can fight this all you want," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shudder through your body. "But you know you're mine, Y/N. I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever."

You tried to focus on your words, the ones that should matter. "I don’t want this, Jungkook," you repeated, your voice weak, and yet, something in your chest tightened. The longing for freedom, for a way out, collided with the dull pull of your body’s response to him. It felt as though you were suffocating between two opposing forces—one part of you screaming to break free, the other part craving the warmth he was offering, even if it was twisted.

"Hey, look at me, baby," Jungkook’s gaze softened, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. The heat in them was still there, darker, more intense, as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze.

The drugs were fogging your mind, the reality of what was happening slipping away like sand through your fingers. You felt his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer, the pressure building between you both, and yet, a small voice in the back of your mind screamed no. It screamed that this wasn’t right, that you were more than this moment, but the drugs and his kiss drowned it out, and all you could do was let yourself be consumed by him.

"This is happening. This is us." His voice was firm, steady, and with each word, the finality of his claim echoed between you both.

You wanted to push him away. You wanted to tell him to stop, to make him understand how wrong this was, but your body betrayed you, too caught in the haze of his touch, his kiss, the overwhelming pull of his presence. You closed your eyes, trying to block out the sensations, trying to escape into the numbness that you had once sought.

But Jungkook wouldn’t let you. His fingers slid to your jaw, guiding your face back to his as his lips found yours once more. This kiss was different—it was hungry, possessive, the kind that felt like a demand rather than a plea. You could feel him pressing against you, his desire unmistakable in the hardness of his body, and it was suffocating, consuming you in ways you didn’t know you could be consumed.

He pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, his chest still rising and falling beneath yours. "You don’t want this now, but you will," he said softly, his voice full of certainty. "You’ll see. You’ll understand at the end,—I’ll make you understand."

The intensity of his gaze held you captive, the world outside this moment blurring into insignificance.

"Jungkook…" you whispered, your voice trembling. The fear, the confusion, the longing—they all mingled into a desperate plea for something you couldn’t quite name.

His eyes softened, but the possessiveness never left. "You’re mine," he repeated, his voice a low, soothing murmur. "I’ll protect you. I’ll keep you safe. But you have to trust me, Y/N–"

 "You have to let me in."

You looked down at your mug, swirling the mulled wine as you gathered your thoughts. "I... I think I’m ready to go back to work," you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

The change in Jungkook’s demeanor was immediate. The warmth in his eyes flickered out, replaced by something harder, colder. He set his mug down on the counter with a soft clink, his posture stiffening.

"What makes you think that?" he asked, his tone deceptively calm, but you could hear the edge beneath it. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his gaze.

"I’ve been good, haven’t I?"

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied you, the tension between you palpable. He took a step closer, his presence imposing. "You have," he admitted, his voice low and measured. "But that doesn’t mean you’re ready to go back out there."

You felt a pang of frustration, but you tried to keep your voice steady. "I need to feel normal again, Jungkook. I need to get out of here, to do something meaningful."

His jaw tightened, and he reached out, gently but firmly taking the mug from your hands and setting it aside. His fingers lingered on your wrist for a moment, his touch both comforting and possessive. "This is meaningful," he said, his voice softening just a fraction as he looked into your eyes. "Us, here, together. This is your life now, Y/N."

"But..but you promised." Jungkook's expression flickered, a brief moment of conflict passing through his eyes before his gaze hardened again. He took a deep breath, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly as he processed your words.

"I promised to keep you safe," he said, his voice firm but with an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite identify—fear, perhaps, or desperation. "And letting you go back to work... it's not safe for you now, Y/N."

You pulled your wrist free, taking a step back to create some distance. "I can’t stay cooped up in here forever, Jungkook," you said, your voice trembling but determined. "I need to feel like myself again. I need to be around people, to do something other than just exist in this penthouse."

He took a step closer, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his touch gentle but his eyes intense. "You are my life now," he said softly, his voice breaking slightly. "And I can’t lose you. Not to anything or anyone." You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch despite the turmoil inside you. Jungkook’s thumb brushed over your cheek, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

"Freedom comes with risks, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with a mix of love and possessiveness. "And I’m not sure I can handle those risks."

"I promise I am not plotting, Gguk—" you began, but Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, his grip on your face tightening ever so slightly.

"Are you not?" he cut in, his voice low and dangerous. The hint of desperation from before was now replaced with a cold, steely resolve.

"Just give me a chance to prove—" His eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of deceit.

"I don’t know if I can trust that, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with an unsettling mix of love and possessiveness. He was silent for a long moment, his jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tight with tension. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his grip on your face softening.

"We have the family dinner coming up. It’s important, and everyone will be there. If you can behave, show that you can handle yourself around my family, then maybe... just maybe, we can talk about you going back to work."

The implication of his words settled over you like a weight. This wasn’t just about proving yourself to him; it was about proving yourself to his entire family. The thought was daunting, but you knew this might be your only chance. To get away from his grasp.

"I’ll do my best," you said, your voice trembling with a mix of determination and anxiety. "I promise."

A small, almost tender smile tugged at the corners of Jungkook’s lips. "Good," he said softly.

You swallowed hard, the pressure of the upcoming dinner weighing heavily on you. "Who will be there?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. "Everyone," he said simply. "My parents, all of my Hyungs... among whom someone can offer you a position if you make a good impression."

This was your chance, and you had to take it.

"I’ll be on my best behaviour," you promised, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you.

You stood there in Jungkook’s arms, the Christmas lights twinkling softly around you, you resolved to do whatever it took to reclaim a part of your life.

"Now, show me how good you can warm my cock this Christmas."

His murmured words were low and commanding. You swallowed hard, your mind racing as you tried to process what he was asking of you. This wasn’t the first time he implied that he wanted you to drop down there. He was obsessed with your body and how obedient it became when you had the right amount of pills and alcohol in your system. You both could deal with detox once you realized that there was no different route in your life but him. That was his plan all along.

You could smell the mulled wine on his breath, and it only added to the sense of unease growing inside you. He reached out a hand and gently stroked your cheek, his touch sending a wave of revulsion through your body.

As the flames danced in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room, Jungkook's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze burning with a fierce intensity. He reached out and gently stroked your hair, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. Without a word, he guided you to your knees, his eyes never leaving yours. Quick flashbacks ran through your mind from the last time he did that. Normally, fear would take you down or push you to protest. Not anymore. He made you his doll. At least partially.

As his hands closed around yours, he gently guided them to his sweatpants, his eyes locked onto yours with a spark of excitement. You felt a rush of anticipation as your hands made contact with the soft fabric, and Jungkook's eyes seemed to gleam with a knowing light.

He urged your hands to explore, to delve beneath the waistband and discover the secrets that lay hidden beneath. Your fingers trembled slightly as you complied, slipping beneath the fabric to find the warm, smooth skin. Jungkook's eyes fluttered closed, and a low, husky moan escaped his lips as your hands made contact with his flesh. His hips seemed to arch into your touch.

Your fingers wrapped around him, feeling the warmth and the hardness.

Jungkook's eyes snapped open, and he gazed at you with a fierce intensity, his pupils dilated with desire. "Yes," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own ragged breathing. "Like that. Just like that."

You could imagine that this was your high school boyfriend. You for sure loved him back then. Because now you have to suck and fuck that man like you mean it if you want out.

Your lips made contact with the warm, smooth skin of his cock, and Jungkook's eyes fluttered closed, a low, husky moan escaping his lips. You began to suck, your mouth wrapping around him like a warm, wet glove. Jungkook slightly moved his hips against you, inviting you to take more, to suck him deeper.

You felt his hands tangling in your hair, holding you in place as you worked to please him. The sound of his breathing, the feel of his heat, and the taste of his skin is nothing new for you anymore, and you desperately wish you never got the taste of him.

Jungkook's moans grew louder, and his hips began to move, thrusting gently into your mouth. You felt him growing closer and closer to the edge, and you knew that you were driving him wild. Your mouth moved up and down, sucking and licking, as Jungkook's cock grew harder and thicker. You felt his precum dripping onto your tongue, and you knew that he was close to coming.

Jungkook's hands tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he began to thrust faster, his hips moving in a rapid, piston-like motion. You felt his cock hitting the back of your throat. His body tensed when he pulled your wet mouth from his cock just in time, his cock still throbbing with desire. His chest heaved with exertion, his breathing ragged as he gazed at you with a hungry look in his eyes.

Without a word, Jungkook reached out and grabbed your wrist, pulling you to your feet. He spun you around, pressing your back against the wall next to the Christmas tree as he loomed over you.

You felt his hot breath on your skin, his lips inches from yours as he whispered, "I'm not done with you yet." His hands roamed over your body, stripping away your clothes with a fierce urgency.

Jungkook's eyes devoured you, his gaze lingering on every curve and contour of your body. You felt his hot breath on your skin, his lips inches from yours, as he whispered, "Mhm, I’m gonna fuck you so hard and nice—" his hands continued to strip away your clothes, leaving you naked and exposed before him.

Jungkook's hands grasped your hips, lifting you up as he slammed you against the wall. But instead of thrusting into you, he paused, his eyes locked on yours as he whispered,

 "I want to savor you, to taste every inch of your skin."

Jungkook's lips crashed down on yours, his tongue invading your mouth as he kissed you with a fierce, possessive passion. You felt yourself getting lost in the sensation, your body responding to his touch as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth.

As he kissed you, Jungkook's hands began to roam over your body, touching, caressing, and claiming you as his own. His fingers trailed down your neck, over your shoulders, and down to your breasts, where he cupped them in his hands, his thumbs tracing circles around your nipples.

His lips left yours, and he trailed kisses down your neck, over your shoulders, and down to your breasts, where he sucked your nipples into his mouth, his tongue swirling around them in a sensual dance. His fingers continued tracing down your stomach, over your hips, and down to your thighs, where he parted them with his hands, his fingers brushing against your entrance, spreading your lips wide and finding very little of wetness.

His brows furrowed in concern, and he lifted his head from your breasts, his eyes locking onto yours with a questioning gaze.

For a moment, he simply looked at you, his chest heaving with exertion, his lips still wet from kissing your breasts. Then, his face softened, and he whispered, "Do you want me to stop?" His voice was low and husky, but laced with a hint of uncertainty.

Was he testing you?

The Christmas tree lights twinkled in the background, casting a warm glow over the scene. The soft hum of the lights and the quiet beat of Jungkook's chest rising and falling with each breath were the only sounds in the room.

What are you going to do now?

It was not uncommon for someone on such medication as yours to have trouble with dampness down there. Even when the excitement might be there, waterfalls weren’t.

"It's just the medication…" Jungkook's expression turned serious, and he kissed your forehead tenderly.

"I know, baby," he said softly. "We'll go slow. We don't have to rush anything."

He shifted slightly, adjusting his position so that he could hold you more comfortably. As Jungkook held you, his hands moved slowly, caressing your back and sides with a gentle touch. How? Why? Where is the Jungkook who forced you down on your knees and fucked your throat until you cried?

The contrast between the Jungkook who was now so gentle and the one who had been so forceful left you bewildered. His tenderness felt alien, almost as if he were a different person. You couldn't help but wonder if this was just another side of his complex personality, a side he was showing now to keep you close, to make you feel safe.

"Why are you being so gentle with me?" you whispered, unable to keep the question to yourself any longer.

Jungkook paused, his eyes searching yours. "Because I love you," he said simply, as if that explained everything. "I want you to feel safe with me, Y/N. I want you to trust me."

You felt a lump form in your throat, the words catching you off guard. Trust. It was such a fragile thing, something that had been shattered and mended too many times. Could you really trust him? This could simply be another foul play.

Jungkook's gaze softened, and he cupped your face in his hands. "I know I've been rough with you, baby. I know I've scared you. But I need you to understand that everything I do, I do because I can't bear the thought of losing you. You're my everything, Y/N."

"I need to feel like I can breathe." You whispered, bare and vulnerable.

"I can give you that," he said, his voice steady. "But you have to promise me something."

"What is it?" you asked, your heart pounding.

"Promise me that you won’t leave me, baby," he said, his grip on your face tightening slightly.

"I won’t," you replied, your voice trembling at the thought. But your answer was rather enigmatic, and his brain opted to process it the way he wanted and not the way you meant it. You won’t. You won’t promise that.

Slowly, his grip on your face relaxed, and he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding. "Good," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. "Because I can’t live without you."

He kissed you softly, his lips lingering on yours, and you responded as best you could, trying to convey the mix of emotions swirling inside you. It was almost disorienting, this gentleness from a man who had shown you such brutality.

"I want you," he whispered, his voice low and husky. "I want to be inside you, to feel you wrapped around me." He paused, his gaze never leaving yours. "But I don't want to hurt you. I want to make it good for you."

"Just like the last time." He smirked, recalling all your dirty juice on his body and bed once you came undone the first time he claimed you as his.

He took a step back, his eyes still locked on yours, and nodded to himself. "I'll be right back," he said, turning and walking away.

You watched him go, wondering what he was doing. But then you heard him rummaging through a drawer, and you realized what he was looking for. He returned with a small bottle of lube, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I want to make sure you're ready for me," he said, his voice low and gentle. "I want to make sure you can take my big cock into your tiny hole." He moaned at the thought of being inside you again.

"I can’t hold back, baby. I'm going to fuck you good until you can’t walk."

He poured some lube onto his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours as he climbed on top of you. You felt him touch you, his fingers slipping between your lower lips, spreading them with his two fingers apart and caressing each side, making you breathe loudly. You gasped, feeling a spark of pleasure ignite within you, just a little. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to coax your body into a state of complete surrender.

The warmth of his hands seeped into your skin, spreading a comforting heat that eased the tension from your muscles. Every stroke, every caress, was a reminder of his dominance, yet also of his desire to please you.

His fingers moved with a rhythm, slow and deliberate, exploring every inch of your sensitive flesh. He started with light, teasing touches, barely grazing your skin, before gradually increasing the pressure. You felt a fluttering sensation in your lower abdomen, a mix of anticipation and need. Your breath hitched, and you let out a soft moan, encouraging him to continue.

You were feeling something after such a long time of numbness. He made you forget about how sore your muscles were every morning, how tired you woke up even though you slept for more than eight hours, and how you emptied your stomach now and then because the drugs made you nauseous.

He whispered soothing words, his voice a low murmur that vibrated against your skin. "That's it, baby," he said, his breath warm against your ear. "Just relax. Let me take care of you."

His fingers moved with an intimate knowledge of your body, finding all the right spots inside you to make you gasp and writhe beneath him. He took his time, not rushing, making sure you were fully prepared, fully aware of every sensation.

His lips hovered over yours, eyes locked onto yours. Slowly, his lips descended, brushing against yours in a gentle, teasing caress.

"You are such a good girl for me." His fingers continued to move, stroking and teasing, building the tension inside you. You felt his hands moving, positioning you the way he wanted when an idea struck your brain. This is it. He will think that you’re finally falling in line, that you are content living by his side, and eventually showing him some love he is forcing from you. You decided to use this moment to your advantage, to make him believe you were giving in, that you were starting to accept your place by his side.

You clung to him, as if seeking more of his touch, more of his warmth.

"Jungkook," you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of genuine arousal and calculated submission.

"I wanna ride you."

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise quickly replaced by a dark, eager gleam. You would pay to see that micro-mimic again. He smiled, a slow, predatory smile that made your heart race.

"Oh, do you now, baby?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with anticipation.

You nodded, maintaining eye contact, letting him see the sincerity in your gaze.

"Yes, please."

Without another word, Jungkook shifted, guiding you to straddle his lap. His hands moved to your hips, his grip firm but not painful, holding you steady as you settled yourself over him. The feel of his erection pressing against you sent a shiver of anticipation through your body.

"Take your time," he said softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "I want to feel every inch of you."

You bit your lip, lowering yourself slowly, savoring the feeling of him filling you. He let out a low groan, his fingers tightening on your hips as you took him in, inch by inch. The connection between you felt almost electric, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

Once you were fully seated, you paused, giving yourself a moment to adjust. He felt even bigger now that your arousal was half artificial. Jungkook's eyes were dark with desire, his breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

"Good girl," he whispered, his voice thick with arousal. "You feel so good."

You began to move, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles. Jungkook's hands roamed your body, caressing your back, your breasts, your thighs, as if he couldn't get enough of touching you.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. "So fucking perfect."

You leaned forward, capturing his lips in a heated kiss. His lips were soft yet demanding, moving against yours with a fervor that matched the rhythm of your hips. You could taste the lingering sweetness of mulled wine on his tongue as it slipped into your mouth, exploring and claiming.

As you bounced on him, your movements became more urgent, driven by the growing need that coursed through your veins. You were getting riled up. You knew you wouldn't cum. At least not like before.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your forehead resting against his. "Jungkook," you moaned, your voice trembling with need. "I need you."

Jungkook's hands moved to your hips, guiding you, urging you to move faster, harder. The friction between you was exquisite, each movement sending waves of pleasure through your body. His kisses grew more desperate, more demanding.

"I'm right here, baby," he groaned, his hands tightening on your hips, his own need evident in the way his body moved against yours. "You're doing so well. Keep going."

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the rhythm, the sensation of his body against yours. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the soft hum of the Christmas lights, and the quiet creak of the couch under you.

You glanced down where your pussy swallowed his cock, noticing the bulge in your belly growing each time you slumped down on his cock.

"Cum for me, baby," Jungkook whispered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "I want to feel you."

You shook your head slightly, the frustration and the numbness from the medication making it difficult to reach the peak you both desired. "I... I can't," you gasped, feeling the tears of frustration prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"Yeah, you do, baby. I know you can." Jungkook's voice was firm but encouraging, his hands guiding your hips as he increased the intensity of his movements.

He shifted slightly, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with each thrust. His thumb found your clit, rubbing gentle but insistent circles that sent jolts of pleasure through your body. The combination of his relentless thrusts and the skilled motion of his thumb began to break through the fog of numbness.

"Just focus on me," he murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Feel every touch, every movement. You're so close, baby. I can feel it."

You let out a soft whimper, your body responding despite the numbness. The tension inside you began to build again, each touch, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. Jungkook's presence, his voice, his touch, all combined to draw you closer to the edge.

"Come on, baby," he urged, his voice thick with arousal. "You're so beautiful like this, so perfect. Let go for me. I know you can."

You closed your eyes, focusing on the sensations, on the heat of his body against yours, the rhythm of his movements. The frustration began to ebb away, replaced by a growing need, a desire to reach that peak, to give him what he wanted.

"That's it," Jungkook whispered, his voice a mix of encouragement and command.

You could feel the tension coiling inside you, tighter and tighter, until it was almost unbearable. But the finish line not close at all. You could feel the pleasure building, but it was like reaching for something just out of your grasp.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. A little drop of sweat rolling down your forehead. You knew you had to come somehow or this wouldn't stop. He wouldn't let you go, he would know if you faked it right away.

You forced yourself to concentrate on his touch, on the rhythm of his movements, on the sound of his voice. You felt the tension coiling tighter inside you, every nerve ending tingling with anticipation. Jungkook's relentless pace, the way he filled you so completely, the firm circles his thumb traced over your sensitive spot.

"Jungkook," you gasped, your voice trembling with need and desperation. He leaned in to take one of your nipples into his mouth, his thumb moving faster against your clit, his thrusts deep and steady. You bit your lip, trying to channel all your focus into the sensations he was creating.

With a final, desperate cry, you felt the coil inside you snap. Your body convulsed around him, your muscles clenching and releasing in a rhythm that matched the pounding of your heart. Jungkook held you through it, his movements never faltering as he guided you through your release.

The aftershocks of your orgasm slowly receded; after all, it felt like you only edged hard instead of cumming but that was good enough for you to moan his name and shake for him to be sated.

You collapsed against him, your body spent, your mind hazy. Jungkook followed you over the edge, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside you. He held you close, his breath warm against your neck, his heart beating in time with yours.

"You did so well," he murmured, his voice filled with pride and affection. "So perfect for me."

For now, that was enough.

Enough for him to give him hope that you are his and he is yours.

The church bells rang out a somber melody as you and Jungkook stepped inside the grand cathedral. The last time you were here was when you told your parents you didn't get accepted to MIT for neuroscience as they wanted. Instead, you had announced your desire to pursue a career in the fashion industry. You still remembered their horrified faces.

Jungkook’s grip on your hand was firm but gentle as he guided you to a seat near the front. Garlands of evergreen and red ribbons decorated the aisles, reflecting the deep religious commitment of Jungkook’s family. Yours believed in science, and if you went to church, it was only for the image it gave your parents. But Jungkook insisted that you, as in you and him, cannot skip the service. It’s a no-no in the family. 

Seeing Jungkook in something so not hipster or at least, fuck boy like, made you re-think just how much he had grown as a person without you ever noticing. The crisp white shirt tucked neatly into his tailored black slacks, a perfect striped suit jacket on top, tie underneath, all Bloomingdale, you took a mental note. The hint of cologne that wafted every time he moved made him look almost unrecognizable compared to the tattooed, oversized-hoodie-wearing Jungkook you first met and it made you wonder when did you start seeing him as a helpless heartthrob. Gone was the boy and instead there was this stand-up guy holding your hand.

You settled into the wooden pew once the priest began the service with a deep, resonant voice. You tried to focus on the words, on the serenity of the moment, but your mind kept drifting to the upcoming dinner. This had to be the performance of your lifetime. But you have to try to endure words that have no meaning to you or your soul while you wait for the innocent naivety of distant future’s mothers and fathers, lawyers and doctors, or good people and vigilantes, in the form of a child choir, to start singing. 

You spotted Hoseok and what looked like Kim Namjoon with, you assumed, Peaches, nearing your seats. Jungkook's grip tightened slightly, a silent signal that he was aware of their approach. He was scared you’d run away, that you’d ruin everything. He was right to be scared. To ruin their family Christmas might be on your Grinch wishlist, but you would be the most obedient woman on the planet if you had to. Because that meant, you had a chance of getting out of that ugly block of a tall building more than once a month when you begged for it. How you’d get rid of your "boyfriend," that was a story for another day.

While the service continued, you felt a hand slip into yours, warm and reassuring. You looked up to see Peaches smiling gently at you, her curly blonde hair framing her full face, and her eyes filled with quiet strength. She was wearing Versaci’s black slit medallion dress that you thought there is no way to get after the 94’ movie showgirls. But she has them, and a what seemed to be a very nice fur coat draped over her shoulders. 

She was quite the beauty, and your brain immediately imagined her on a runway. Although she was rather petite next to a man like Kim Namjoon. She squeezed your hand lightly, a silent gesture of support. It was comforting, and for a moment, you felt a small spark of hope.

"Hi," she said quietly, and at that moment, you couldn’t hate her like you hated the rest of them.

"Hi," you whispered back, offering a small, tentative smile. Her presence was unexpectedly soothing, a reminder that there might be allies or at least people who sympathized. But mere sympathy wouldn’t help you get out of this arrangement.

Jungkook noticed the exchange, his eyes softening slightly, though his grip on your hand remained firm. He leaned in, his breath warm against your ear. "You’re doing great," he murmured, his voice low and encouraging. "Just a little longer."

Hymns filled the air, and the congregation joined in with reverence. You tried to let the music and the surroundings wash over you, to find some peace in the chaos of your mind. Peaches’ hand in yours was a constant source of comfort, a silent promise that you weren’t completely alone in this.

The service drew to a close. The priest offered a final blessing, and the congregation began to disperse. Jungkook helped you to your feet, his hand never leaving yours.

"Good to see you both," Hoseok greeted, his smile genuine but his eyes sharp. "Are you ready for the dinner tonight?"

Jungkook nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "Yeah, we’ll be there. But we’re stopping by my parents’ house first."

Namjoon glanced at Peaches, whose movements showed pain once she stood up. Nonetheless, she gave you a reassuring smile.

"We’ll see you there," he said, his voice calm and composed.

As you walked out of the cathedral, Peaches leaned in and whispered, "Don’t let them get into your head."

Her words resonated with you as you made your way to the car. Jungkook’s parents' house was your next destination, and you knew you had to maintain your composure. This was your chance to prove yourself and eventually free yourself.

Jungkook’s family home was grand and imposing, decorated lavishly for the holiday season.

You took a deep breath as you stepped out of the car, Jungkook by your side. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before leading you to the front door.

The door swung open before you could even knock, revealing Jungkook’s mother, her face lighting up with excitement. She was a petite woman with a warm smile, but her eyes were sharp and assessing.

"Jungkook, darling!" she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight hug before turning her attention to you. "And this must be Y/N!"

She reached out and took your hands in hers, her grip surprisingly strong. "It’s so lovely to finally meet you," she said, her eyes flicking down to your fingers for a good moment before she realized that what she was looking for was not there. Her smile faltered slightly but she recovered rather quickly when she saw your confused mimics.

You forced a smile, feeling a bit overwhelmed by her forwardness. "It’s nice to meet you too, Mrs. Jeon."

"Aish, that’s how the staff calls me," she said with a light chuckle, waving her hand dismissively. "You call me eomma, honey."

Before you could respond, her gaze had already shifted, and she was inspecting you more closely, her hands suddenly on your shoulders, then your arms, and finally your stomach.

"You will be so pretty with a—" she began, her tone filled with genuine admiration, but her hands still firmly on your midsection.

"Eomma!" Jungkook interrupted abruptly, his voice firmer than usual. He gently but decisively moved her hands away from you. "Ya, is that a sponge cake I’m smelling?"

Mrs. Jeon blinked, momentarily thrown off, before breaking into a warm smile. "Oh, yes! I made your favorite, Ggukie-ah!" she said, her enthusiasm shifting to the mention of the cake.

The dining room was filled with people, all of whom seemed to know each other well. You felt like an outsider, but you kept a polite smile on your face, determined to make a good impression. This house, or rather mansion, was overwhelming. Tall ceilings and crystal chandeliers loomed overhead, and the mansion was beautifully decorated, with twinkling lights and elegant ornaments adorning every corner. A massive Christmas tree stood in the center of the hall you passed on your way, its branches heavy with decorations and presents piled high underneath. It seems that the Jungs or maybe this whole family is rather obsessed just as much with crystal as it is with kidnapping women.

Jungkook introduced you to everyone you didn’t know, his grip on your hand never faltering. As you sat down at the long, elegant table, you noticed a blonde man watching you from across the room. His name was Park Jimin, and you knew exactly who he was.

A goddamn chairman of Dior looking at you and your little black dress Jungkook insisted you will wear. It was a gift, from whom he did not say. And your heart could not reject such a fine piece. 1947 Christian Dior, a classic embodiment of the fifties shape. You loved them, and your selfishness could not choose to not wear them. Jungkook was not bluffing when he said someone who could give you the job would be here after all.

The shocked look Jungkook noticed on your face when he introduced you to Jimin was much more evident than you intended it to be. He gave you a reassuring nod, and you took a deep breath, ready to face whatever came next.

"So, Y/N, how did you and Jungkook meet?" Hoseok’s voice raised above the murmur of conversation once the tightest circle settled around the table. Among what they refer to them as the elders. Parents, and other relatives. The previous generation you may call them, and judging by the greyness of some of their hair, even the one before. Jungkook did lend you to them to answer some, rather, traditional remarks that you tried not to let rot in your brain.

Oh dear, what a beauty you are, surely your children will be as beautiful. You look like a perfect match. You have such a kind face, dear. I'm sure you'll make a wonderful wife and mother.

Among which is the how you and Jungkook met.

This question was no different in the message it was sending.

His question was casual, but you sensed the curiosity behind it. His wife was sitting next to him and on the other side, none other than Namjoon and Peaches, followed by Seokjin, Yoongi, Taehyung, and Jimin. It looked almost biblical, this kind of hierarchy.

You smiled, trying to appear as natural as possible. You know he knew, every single person in this room knew that he knew but he asked anyway. His wife nudged him gently to stop prying, but he did not pay her more mind than putting his palm on her swollen belly.

"We met through work on Klein’s campaign," you began, your voice steady despite the pressure. They were waiting for you to slip up so they could eat you alive like hungry wolves.

Peaches smiled warmly, her hand resting on Namjoon's. You arched your brows at her demeanor as you could not quite place the state of her mind when it comes to, you know, all this.

Jungkook squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with pride.

"Ah, the Klein campaign," Seokjin said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. "That was quite a project, wasn't it? Jungkook mentioned how pivotal your role was."

Kim Seokjin is a lawyer. And a goddamn good one. The man would get you out of the death penalty and that’s maybe why Hoseok is keeping him close. At least, that’s what you heard. Each and one of them is somehow valuable to the infrastructure you don’t have the right to glimpse into, just yet. But how Jungkook falls into this scheme remains unknown.

You nodded, maintaining your composure. Breathing in and trying to ignore what his words were suggesting.

"Yes, it was a significant project. We both put a lot of effort into it."

"Effort, indeed," Yoongi chimed in, his voice low and smooth. You could not overlook the undertone. Jungkook narrowed his eyes at his oldest Hyungs, not quite understanding what they were trying to do. And here you thought he asked them to test you. You felt your cheeks heat up, the scrutiny intensifying.

Hoseok's wife, sensing the tension, tried to steer the conversation into something more—

"I loved the collection. Gguk is one hot motherfucker, cannot lie with that one."

You would not know how to call this kind of linguistic expression but, it seems, it worked.

Laughter erupted around the table, the tension easing slightly. Jungkook blushed at her comment, scratching the back of his head.

"Thanks, noona," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed but also grateful for the lighter mood.

Namjoon, ever the diplomat, leaned forward with a curious expression. "Y/N, what was the most challenging part of the Klein campaign for you?"

And now this started to seem like an interview. But for what? The job you were hunting for let's see if you can handle this family interview. You are trying to convince yourself that someone like Kim Namjoon cannot be this incredibly dull because he’s only testing how you’re going to behave. How do you know your way with words as this family needs to keep appearances.

You heard bits and pieces that you are now able to connect, at least a little. Jungkook was not in your imaginary map of this empire that people talk about in hushed voices. You were never that interested; you just wanted to keep doing what you love and have a roof over your head. Now you gotta do a lot more than just mind your business if you wanna stay in the line of your work.

Why?

Because you bloody want to.

You bloody want to reach the toppiest top of tops in the fashion industry as a designer. Even after all of this. You still want that; otherwise, you’d perish already. This dream of yours proved to be a conflict of interest not only in your head but also in this family.

To be or not to be, that is the question.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of all eyes on you.

"Jeon Jungkook."

You said that with a somewhat strange lightness in your voice. Jungkook choked a little on his wine and Taehyung, who sat opposite him, gave him an exclusive view of his mischief grin, his tongue darting out to touch his upper teeth.

Another set of laughter erupted around the table. Jungkook, still recovering from his mini-choking incident, chuckled and squeezed your hand. And it was in that moment, amidst the laughter and warmth of this, let’s say, unconventional family, that you felt a sense of belonging you had never experienced before. Growing up, warmth and familial affection were foreign concepts, mere figments of your imagination. But here, with Jungkook and his family, you were starting to understand what it meant to be part of something bigger, something warm and real, and you certainly didn’t know how to feel.

People call them greedy but they prefer ambitious. Ambition, after all, is what drives us forward. Isn’t it? They weren't just a family; they were a well-oiled machine, each cog turning in perfect synchrony. Each person at the table had a role to play, a purpose that intertwined with the others.

The room seemed to close in as you sank deeper into your thoughts. The warm glow of the chandelier overhead, the laughter that felt like a distant hum in your ears, the rich aroma of food in the air—it all became background noise and your head was reeling with questions you wanted answers to.

What is it that changed within you?

The evening wore on, and it seemed Jungkook was more than pleased with you today, judging by how extremely happy he looked talking to his Hyungs. But your attention was on one person only now.

Jimin approached you during a lull in the conversation. "Can we talk for a moment?" he asked quietly. You turned your face back to Jungkook. You knew better, so you opted to ask for permission to be excused for a moment. You met Jungkook’s eyes, his expression softening slightly as he saw the silent request in yours. His gaze lingered for a moment before he gave a subtle nod, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if assuring you it was okay.

You stood up, excusing yourself politely to the group, and followed Jimin, your heart picking up its pace with every step. The air between you felt charged, as if there were unspoken words waiting to be voiced.

Once you were out of earshot from the others, Jimin led you to a quieter corner of the house, the low hum of the gathering fading into the background. His eyes met yours, and you could sense a mix of nervousness and something deeper behind them.

"I see you’ve received my gift." You glance down at the dress, fingers brushing the soft fabric.

"Thank you, Jungkook have to insist I wear them–" A small smile tugs at his lips, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The held a quiet intensity, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something far more serious. The atmosphere around you seemed to change as he spoke, his words carrying weight.

"It’s good you’re focused on Jungkook—" his hands were paying attention to the crystal glasses he was pouring Kim’s brandy into.

"Well, it’s not like I had a choice." You stumbled awkwardly. You cannot mess this up, Y/N. You just can’t. You kept repeating to yourself that you had to, or otherwise, you’d do something Jungkook would not fancy at all.

Jimin didn’t seem to notice your discomfort as he handed you a glass of brandy, his gaze still fixed on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. "You’ve always got a choice in this family," he said, his voice low, almost too calm for the conversation you were having.

"It’s up to you if you choose wrong or right."

The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy, as Jimin’s gaze finally met yours. You took a slow breath, trying to steady the racing thoughts inside your mind. The glass of brandy in your hand suddenly felt like a weight you weren’t prepared to carry.

"What do you mean?" the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them.

"Jungkook might not be in the center of all this—" he gestured to the lavish room you were in. This was a private office, and from what you gathered with your wandering eyes, it was Hoseok’s office.

"But he is still part of the family just like I am—" His posture relaxed, but his eyes betrayed an undercurrent of something deeper. You listened to him, gulping every word he said. "Just like you ought to be."

"He’s not just the charming guy you think he is. He’s tied to a world you don’t understand yet, and it’s not a world you can just walk away from if things go south."

For a moment, you couldn’t find your voice.

"Why are you telling me this now?" He took a long sip of his brandy, his gaze flicking briefly to the door before locking onto yours again.

"Because I need you to understand you are going nowhere if I offer you the position." The air between you thickened, and your pulse quickened as Jimin’s words sank in. You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice faltered. Jimin let out a soft sigh, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly as he leaned in, his voice lowering, now more direct.

"I need you to know that this is a goddamn privilege—" But the look in his eyes told you it wasn’t that simple.

"Women in this family do not work, they don’t have to." His voice was low and measured, but there was no mistaking the command behind his words. You slightly flinched at such an old stereotypical remark but remained silent. You can’t slip away.

The room felt smaller suddenly, the space between you shrinking with each word he spoke. You tried to steady yourself, to push past the shock and confusion that was flooding your mind, but it was difficult. And suddenly, you did not know whether you actually wanted this.

"Gguk seems to think that this will bring you two closer." His tone shifted ever so slightly, a faint edge of something you couldn’t quite name creeping into it. He wasn’t just making an observation, he was planting a seed, subtly drawing attention to something you hadn’t yet fully realized.

"So pardon me for ensuring that it fucking will."

You stood there, the glass of brandy suddenly feeling like it might slip from your hand, the weight of his words crashing over you. He leaned back slightly, his posture shifting to one that seemed more confident, more relaxed—like he was watching a show unfold and you were its central character.

"Hoseok was not pleased altogether, let me tell you that—" The silence that followed was deafening. Your mind raced, trying to process everything that had been said. Where is this leading to?

"—but if this helps you to know your place here, so be it."

"Jungkook’s not immune to the politics of this family. And neither are you," Jimin continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took another sip of brandy.

"So what is it you want from me?" Your voice came out stronger than you expected, but your heart was still pounding. You needed to know what he was after, what his angle was in all of this.

Jimin’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"There you go." He mused, laughing softly.

"You can have it all,—" he said, his voice soft but cutting.

"—only if you’re willing to make the right choice."

As the evening drew to a close, you found yourself standing by the Christmas tree with Jungkook. Back at the penthouse, the lights twinkled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of possessiveness and affection.

"You did well tonight," he murmured, his hand gently cupping your face. "I’m very proud of you."

You smiled up at him, feeling a strange mix of emotions. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Jungkook's fingers trailed down your cheek, pulling you closer.

"Let’s get ready for bed, or Santa won’t come and eat his cookies–" he said, his voice husky with emotion.

You smiled a little at his goofiness and nodded. He took your hand, leading you to the bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the moonlight casting silvery shadows on the floor. You could hear the distant hum of the city below. Not even on Christmas can the never-ending busyness of Manhattan be stopped.

Jungkook started undressing, his movements slow and deliberate. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the chiseled muscles of his chest and the tattoos that adorned his skin. You couldn’t help but admire the way the light played over his body, highlighting every contour and shadow.

As he turned to head to the bathroom, you slipped into the walk-in closet, needing a moment alone. The closet was a treasure trove of designer clothes, including your own designs for Klein. The scent of expensive fabrics and faint traces of perfume filled the air.

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Your heart raced, and your breaths came in shallow gasps. Panic gripped you, the pressure of the family’s scrutiny and the reality of your relationship with Jungkook closing in. So how are you going to stop them from getting into your head if they already planted the seeds?

You sank to the floor, surrounded by the clothes that represented your dreams and ambitions. The panic intensified, and tears welled up in your eyes. You closed them tightly, trying to calm yourself. 

Breathe, Y/N. Just breathe.

You focused on your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale, trying to ground yourself. Slowly, the panic began to subside, replaced by a sense of resolve. You couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now.

"Baby, you coming?"

Jungkook's voice filtered through the closed door, warm and concerned.

He had stood by you. The whole evening. The whole time, actually. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his… love.

You wiped your eyes quickly, taking another deep breath before standing up. The panic had subsided, leaving you with a fragile sense of calm.

You took a moment to compose yourself, looking around at the clothes that symbolized both your dreams and the immense pressure you felt. You reminded yourself why you were here, why you endured the scrutiny and the stress: because you had a vision, a goal to reach the pinnacle of the fashion industry. And now, Jungkook was a part of that journey, whether you had planned it or not.

"I want my life back," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.

Opening the closet door, you stepped back into the dimly lit bedroom. Jungkook was waiting by the bathroom door, his concern evident in the way he studied your face. His shirtless form was suddenly a comforting sight, his presence grounding you in the reality that he was here, supporting you.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly, closing the distance between you with a few strides.

"Yeah," you replied, forcing a smile. "Just a bit overwhelmed."

Jungkook nodded, accepting your answer but not entirely convinced. His bare skin glowed, every muscle defined and accentuated by the dim light, an embodiment of raw beauty.

"Want to wash it away?"

He took your hand, leading you into the bathroom. The steam from the shower had filled the room, creating a warm, misty atmosphere that was both soothing and intimate.

You undressed slowly, Jungkook’s eyes never leaving you. The way he looked at you, with a mix of desire and affection, made your heart race for an entirely different reason. You stepped into the shower together, the hot water cascading over your bodies, washing away the remnants of the evening’s tension.

Jungkook pulled you close, his hands gliding over your wet skin. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The sensation of his strong arms around you, his body solid and warm, was a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

"You were amazing tonight," he murmured against your hair, his lips brushing your forehead. "I know it wasn’t easy, and I want you to know that I’m gonna keep my promise."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt. But as you looked deeper, something shifted. The lenses through which you saw Jeon Jungkook began to tint with a soft, rosy hue. His face, so familiar yet infinitely captivating, seemed to glow with a newfound warmth. The world around you faded, and in that moment, the colors of your life transformed, blending into shades of pink and gold, painting a picture of something…something you never quite felt yet.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "It means so much to me, Jungkook."

He smiled, a small, reassuring smile that made your heart flutter.

"I love you, baby."

The hot water cascaded over you both, creating a steamy haze that made everything feel surreal. Jungkook’s hands moved gently, tenderly, as if he was afraid you might break. You felt safe, cherished, and for a moment, all your fears and doubts melted away.

You did not flinch anymore when he ran his slender fingers over your perky nipples, not when his other hand slipped down the small of your back to grip your naked ass cheek. Instead, you leaned into his touch and asked yourself the same question you did hours ago.

What is it that changed within you?

The first light of Christmas Day filtered through the heavy drapes of the penthouse, casting a soft glow over the room. The world outside was quiet, blanketed in a gentle layer of snow that muffled the usual city sounds. You woke up to the warmth of Jungkook's arms wrapped around you, his breath steady and calm against your neck.

Jungkook stirred beside you, his eyes fluttering open. He smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Merry Christmas," he whispered, his voice husky from sleep.

"Merry Christmas," you replied, your voice still groggy. The scent of pine from the Christmas tree in the living room mingled with the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen. It felt like a picture-perfect morning, almost too serene for the turmoil that often lingered beneath the surface of your life with Jungkook.

He got up and wrapped himself in a robe before heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. You took a moment to collect yourself, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the ever-present tension. As you joined him in the kitchen, you noticed the table set beautifully, with a spread of breakfast items that looked straight out of a holiday magazine. There was bits of this and that on the tray and after a long time, you had an appetite to eat it all. 

"Are we feeding an army or just trying to impress a really hungry ghost of Christmas past, Ebenezer?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the lavish display.

Jungkook chuckled, a light-hearted sound that momentarily eased your nerves. "I thought we could indulge a little. It’s Christmas, after all."

You nodded, taking a seat at the table. The food was delicious, and the effort Jungkook had put into making this morning special was evident. For a moment, you allowed yourself to enjoy it, to pretend that everything was normal.

After breakfast, Jungkook led you to the living room where the Christmas tree stood, twinkling with lights and adorned with ornaments.

"Jungkook—" you began when you noticed the little beautifully wrapped box being tucked in the branches of the tree.

"I know, I know you said no gifts, but this is something for the both of us." His voice was gentle, almost pleading.

You sighed, but nodded, stepping closer to the tree. Jungkook reached for the box, carefully removing it from the branches. He turned to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart pound.

He handed you the box, his fingers brushing against yours. "Open it, baby," he urged softly.

Part of you wanted to freeze the moment, not because you wanted to remember this part of your life, but because you wished to not know what was coming your way. You had to decide now, and the tingly feeling inside of you, remembering Jimin’s words from last night, had never been clearer.

You can have it all, only if you’re willing to make the right choice.

Your hands trembled slightly as you unwrapped the box, revealing a small velvet case. You glanced up at Jungkook, your heart racing, but he simply nodded, encouraging you to continue.

You didn’t need to say it out loud for everyone to know what was inside. Yet, it still took your breath away. Not that you expected any less from Jeon Jungkook.

The ring commanded attention, with its centerpiece—a large, marquise-cut diamond. Set in a band of lustrous yellow gold, the setting featured intricate, filigree-style detailing that adorned each side of the diamond, evoking the elegance of a bygone era. Delicate, smaller accent diamonds were carefully embedded within the gold framework, amplifying the ring's dazzle and enhancing its vintage charm.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up from the ring at Jungkook, who had dropped to one knee before you.

"Will you marry me?"

.

.

.

I N T E R L O G U E

Yoongi leaned against the wall, his brow furrowed in thought. "You know, Jungkook, the mind is a fragile thing—"

"We've seen how the actual medication isn't helping her as much as we'd hoped. It's making her numb, Hyung. She's still spiraling. We need to try something different, something that might break through her—"

Yoongi crossed his arms, contemplating Jungkook's words. "And you think this is the way? To trick her into thinking she's taking the medication?"

"Sometimes," Jungkook replied softly, "a little deception can lead to the truth."

The end of part two - side B

©pennyellee. please do not repost

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