#and even if I did start working to be one

[nsharks]

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part twenty-seven —other parts

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader words: 3.2k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex!!! SEX. enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

It is difficult to tell who lifts the mask.

You think you start it, then he finishes it with a shove up to his nose. 

Your mouth claims his, ivy to stone.

His lips part for your tongue as your arms loop around his shoulders. His fingers dig in your scalp, sharp enough to draw a hiss, while his other arm yanks you closer by the waist, heat searing against your bare skin. It's not a kiss—too unruly for that. His tongue grazes your chin; you taste the edge of his nose. The world narrows to the harsh sound of your breathing, the scrape of your teeth, a tangible truth:

You want him, too. 

He pulls back with one great heave of breath just after the tear on your lip is reopened. A strand of pink-tinted saliva connects you. His eyes search your face, hesitation flickering in his gaze. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I clearly just did.”

His jaw tightens. “I need words. Tell me you understand what you—”

“Don’t,” you cut him off, voice trembling with a mix of frustration and need. “Don’t act like I can’t make my own decisions. Like I can’t handle you.” Rising on your toes, you bite his lip, hard enough to draw a matching drop of blood. “I’ve handled you before—Simon."

A shudder wrenches his shoulders.

Your words rip a growl from his throat, snapping the last of his restraint.

His kiss devours you, raw and unforgiving, until everything else fades to red. Not blood, but something else, something you’ve kept hidden for longer than you care to admit. It burns in your chest—the terrifying realization that you might break if you don’t have him here and now.

His grip on your hair shifts to your thigh, lifting you with ease. Tree bark bites into your spine. You trail kisses down his jaw to the hollow below his ear. Your ankles lock around his waist, dragging up his shirt. The metal buckle of his belt presses where you ache, the friction drawing a sharp gasp. Even through the layers, he feels impossibly thick.

He forces your neck to the side, mouth sucking down your throat to your collarbone with urgent deliberation, as if he wants to memorize every inch but realizes neither of you possess the patience for it. He licks, then bites, the pain making your hips angle in upward seeking. Your reaction pulls a smirk from him. His teeth and tongue glide lower, and he hikes your damp bra up to expose your breasts.

"Fucking hell." A guttural exhale before hand and mouth devours them.

Thought evaporates.

Your chest turns sheen with spit.

You thrash against the tree, your nipple caught between his teeth. He teases it with a graze, then sinks in.

Heat punches the pit of your stomach with a ferocity that makes you cry out.

You claw at the back of his mask. "I need...I need—more."

He groans, low, staving the bite mark with his tongue. This time when he rolls the other nipple between teeth, it is in combination with two fingers slipping under your underwear. The muscles in your thigh jerk. A rough finger grinds circles into your clit, and another glides through the wet seam of you. It is impossible not to fight for more. Delirious with greed, you cant your hips down to slip his middle finger inside. 

He takes the hint and works a second finger into you. Your legs tighten around him in unending tremors that must make keeping his arm between your bodies uncomfortable, his wrist straining to reach you. Arousal leaks steadily onto his hand. You turn less vocal now that you're close, vision failing you, and he tongues at the shell of your ear with a growl.

"I'm not going to fuck you until you cum."

"I'm—"

Strong fingertips curl into the sensitive pad within you, coaxing an orgasm much stronger than the one you gave yourself. It beats through your blood in hot bursts, robbing you of the ability to keep your head up. You lean onto his shoulder, feeling it flex as he fucks his fingers once, twice, then three more times before drawing them out. Through the haze, you hear the drag of his tongue over them and then a soft wet release.

"You will give me more of that."

A flush consumes your face. Your lips part to speak; you can't—

"What happened to my mouthy girl?" he taunts in a murmur.

His tone snaps the world into focus. "She's here."

"I thought she could handle me."

You lift your head to narrow your gaze at his, despising the tick in his brow. "You are insufferable."

"Ah. There she is. I was worried I lost her."

The striking awareness that you are almost naked, while he is fully clothed head-to-toe, suddenly irritates you. You curl your fingers around the fabric bunched by his ear. "Take this off. I've already seen you. It's pointless now."

"You'll have to take it off yourself."

You’re about to move when he pins your wrist to the tree, then the other. A silent challenge. You squirm, but it only drags the belt across your sensitive cunt, making you hiss. You've been here before—restrained by him. But this time, his weakness is clear, a heavy, undeniable pressure pressing against you.

You nudge your nose against his and kiss the taste of yourself from his mouth with slow, ribbing strokes of your tongue. The change in pace makes him sigh into you. You give a swirl of your hips, grinding into him, staggering his breath. When he attempts to press again, seeking relief between the join of hip and thigh, you still your movements. He growls, squeezing your wrists. 

In his next try, you unlock your ankle and jab a knee into his ribs. 

He flinches, but doesn't loosen his grip, laughing softly. "A valiant attempt," he mutters.

"Shut up," you mumble, breath huffing out of you.

"Was that your entire plan?"

"I'm not fucking you until it's off, you know."

"Make more of an effort, then."

Fine.

You run your tongue slowly over your lip, offering a teasing shift of your hips. His throat bobs, a quick, instinctive response. Your thighs tighten around his torso, holding firm. "You are needy for this, too, Simon. Don't act like I am the only one." Your voice comes out hoarse, almost foreign. You move your hips in a steady rhythm, your lips finding the tender skin just above his collarbone. "I bet I could make you cum, just like this. You won't even need to be inside me."

It is an experiment, really, but the thundering of his heart confirms your claim. With your panties bunched to the side, your arousal glides over him, staining his jeans. He matches your movements with firm presses at the base of his clothed-cock. You taste the pulsing vein beneath your tongue, swirling and nibbling, a smoldering heat blossoming in your stomach once more.

"I touched myself thinking about you," you whisper into his skin, ego swelling when his breath stills, then rushes out from his nose. "My fingers didn't feel nearly as good as yours." You purposely moan, almost a whine. Impossibly, he feels harder. Swelling towards release. His skin feels hotter. You nose the underside of his jaw. "You're going to cum soon, aren't you? I can tell. I haven't even taken off any of your clothes yet and you're going to cum. How does it feel to be weak for me?"

His jowls flex from your words and his hips buck with a mindlessness that makes you smile. The heat between you is obliterating. It almost crumbles your vengeance. But when he digs his nails into your wrists with a slight tremble, ashen lashes fluttering, you interrupt the moment before he can finish.

You bite the skin where his throat meets his jaw and kick his ribs again. His eyes snap open, his hold faltering. He stumbles back, and you grapple his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. You fall on top of him, knees bracketing his hips, fingers moving swiftly to tear off the mask.

For a few seconds, you merely stare at each other, like a deer gazing at a hunter.

Face to face, truly, for the first time.

His face, flushed red, is even more handsome like this—rugged and scarred, bared at your mercy beneath you. It makes your heart falter over a beat. His hands drag down the notches of your spine, slow and deliberate, never breaking eye contact. Because you’re paying such close attention, you catch it—a sweeping glint in his gaze. Admiration, maybe. Or just lust.

You swallow thickly and give a tug to his shirt.

He rips it over his head.

You finish yanking the damp bra off.

Your underwear is next.

When you're both bare, exposed and raw, jeans bunched awkwardly at his ankles, the game ends. Neither of you are willing to play anymore. His fingers tighten around your hips as you grip his cock, heavy and slick with the evidence of the edge he was pulled from. You drag the fat head of him through your folds, just once, before lining him up with your hole and sinking down.

Pain flares. Either because it has been years since you've been stretched like this, or because he is just that thick. You hiss through your teeth and pause halfway down, scratching over the hard plane of his chest in search of relief. You feel him deep already, uncomfortably so, and his touch softens over your skin despite the veins sticking out in his neck.

"Take it slow."

"I can handle it."

"It's alright if you can't," his voice softens over the gravel in it.

"I can."

Stubbornly, you take another centimeter, then another, before slamming all the way down, the full length of him breaking through the last layer of resistance until you are fully seated. The press of his fingers into your ass is as rough as the exhale that follows. You feel him twitch within you, his balls heavy and tight, but he allows you the time to adjust, slowly rocking your hips until the discomfort teeters toward pleasure.

He is so big that the tip of him reaches a crevice between your inner wall and cervix. When your pace quickens, the pressure of his pubic bone on your clit makes your body quake with one fierce tremor. You fail to keep yourself upright, the jolt of it bringing your face to his neck. Strong arms flex around you, hands bracing your shoulder blades, to keep you anchored against his chest as his hips cant up to drive him—somehow—deeper. He is in you and around you. All at once. Every inch of grey rot living in you is replaced with damning hunger for him. You swirl and grind and bite his neck, breaking capillaries. 

"That's it, yeah." The raw grit in his voice makes your muscles clench around the base of him. "Take what you need." 

When his firm, neatly corded muscles begin to quiver, his movements lose their precision. He is trying to hold back from the ledge you left him on. His hand tangles in your hair, yanking you back from his neck, and his teeth sink into the tender skin below your ear as a distraction. His breaths come hot and quick, cooling the sweat slicking your skin.

You feel like a conglomerate of broken pieces about to be shattered, every carefully stitched seam straining, ready to snap. Your eyes roll back. Your toes flex and curl. You are so close—

Without warning, and all too soon, he lifts you off. 

"Fuck—"

His cock bobs between your bodies, liquid heat frothing over your stomach in pulses. His eyes are screwed shut, lips parted to let out a noisy rush of air, all of the hardened lines on his face unwoven in the wake of pleasure. You hover over him, blades of grass indented into your knees, watching with silent fascination despite the frustrated fizzle of your own approaching orgasm. When his eyes reopen, they are glazed and unfocused, yet somehow he had more wherewithal to remember pulling out than you did.

Then, he flips you over with a heaving push, cock still hard. You are neatly caged by the sprawl of his muscle, reminded that he easily could've overtaken you before if he wanted to.

"I can go again." It sounds as if he has to dig the words out with great effort, still breathless. 

You reach between your bodies to keep his slippery cock at bay near your thigh. "We can't. It wouldn't be safe after you just—just came."

His lashes flutter in resignation, a firm nod as he dips his head to your collarbones. He rests it there for a moment, likely ignoring the ache in his cock that vies for more attention, and you stare down at the flexing brawn of his back, at the firm swell of his ass. Then he kisses your sternum, over your heart, and sucks his way down the soft curve of your abdomen, gentle, chapped lips against faded bruises.  

When he reaches the raw flesh between your thighs, he lifts your legs and urges your feet on his back. His nose nudges your clit, inhaling deeply the scent of where you'd just been joined, and your breath hitches in anticipation. 

He kisses you here, a curious circle of his tongue around your clit that mimics his finger, before sliding through the slippery seam. When you fist his hair and dig your heels into his shoulders, his gentleness ceases. He closes his entire mouth on you, working furiously to reignite the heat from your spine, which arches off the ground in desperation, driving your puffy cunt harder against the pad of muscle. You grind your hips in combination with pulling on his hair, keeping his tongue right where you need it. It strokes your hole, pushing in and out.

"That's so good, Ghost. So good. I'm—"

You cum hard on his tongue, free hand fisting the grass. It is less of a precipice that you fall off of, and more a crashing wave, like the one you nearly drowned in, but this time you let it sweep you, searing white through the backs of your eyelids. He keeps his tongue there to catch the leakage with an obscenely wet sound you barely hear over the ringing in your ears. By the time it fades, you feel wrecked, spit out on the shore, your mind blank. The wave recedes. 

You hear a soft grunt and then his forehead drops on your sticky belly. The tremor in his shoulders indicates his own release, which he emptied in the grass.

You lay together like this for minutes.

Fingers mindless against his scalp.

Staring at the sky.

Awareness slowly seeps in as the sound of fluttering birds and the quiet ripples over the creak. 

The hum of life returns around you. You'd almost forgotten where you were or how you got here. How long has it been? Your fingers slacken in his hair as you gaze around, the silent trees your only witness, and the sun beginning to dip toward the horizon. The understanding sinks in that you are both absent, and returning together at dark would—

The thought is tucked away when strong arms lift you up, scooping under the crook of your knees.

He is able to walk steadily even when you aren't certain you could.

He carries the mess of your body to the water. The peaceful warmth of it converges over you, highlighting the soreness that you were able to ignore in the throes of it all. Wordlessly, and with a thoughtful crease between his brow, he holds you up with one arm while scrubbing your stomach with the other, rinsing off his essence. It is not an uncomfortable silence, just a thick one, only broken by little drips of water as he cleans you with more intent than you did the first time.

You try to piece together everything in your mind, but the thoughts slip through your fingers like the water. You don’t know what he’s thinking or feeling—a stark contrast to the clarity you found in the heat of him only minutes ago. His body has always been the more decipherable part of him, but now even the stiffness in his shoulders feels like a cipher you can’t crack.

When he leans down and presses a chaste kiss to your damp hair, it doesn’t feel affectionate, exactly. It’s not distant, either—just tender in a way you’re not sure how to interpret. The gnawing questions fill your brain: When was the last time he did this with someone? How many more times will you do it together? Not just once, he said. But what does that mean?

Why do you feel hesitant to ask, even though you were just brindled with confidence while riding his cock?

You try to wipe his own stomach but he brushes your fingers away and does it himself, nodding his chin toward your clothes. "Get dressed. You'll go first."

"Huh?"

"They think I am scouting up ahead right now. I'll be back later."

"Oh," you say, not able to conjure a meaningful response.

He raises an eyebrow at you but offers nothing else except a gentle thumbing over hair that sticks to your cheek. You follow his directions, returning to the grassy bank while the cool air prickles your wet skin. You feel his heavy stare as he watches you towel off, trying to ignore the obvious marks on your hips, stomach, ass, and collarbones. They taunt you with a blush to your cheeks. Luckily, when you slip on the oversized shirt, the majority of them are concealed, your hair finishing the job of covering your neck.

You've no idea what hour it could be when you return, feigning nonchalance, but the setting sun means Ghost won't be out there much longer. In his absence, you feel colder than the temperature truly is. The deep ache that ebbs and flows with each step proves him right. There is no going back after this. No—you will still be able to feel him, like a phantom, even when the soreness between your legs fades. What you are meant to do about that fact is something you can sort through later when you have the state of mind for it. 

Will you ever have the state of mind for it?

You push the voice away and keep your gaze lowered as you approach Nereida, returning the borrowed soaps. The others are gathered around the fire—Kyle eating, Blue and Ari laughing about something, while Price hunches over the map, finalizing tomorrow’s route.

"Was it relaxing?" she asks.

"Hm?"

You blink, bringing your gaze to her, and only now realizing that it is still rather droopy and blurred, the look in her eyes barely in focus as she tilts her head. "Your bath," she clarifies.

"Oh. Mhm." You nod, forcing a small smile. "Yeah, it was just what I needed. I'm actually, um, rather tired now. I think I will sleep early."

She drags her eyes over you, causing your weight to shift, before she returns the smile. "Sounds like a good idea. Long day tomorrow. You should eat first, though."

"Right," you concede, tongue to cheek.

Ghost returns in the midst of you shoveling beans into your mouth, knees tucked to your chest in front of the flames, and his silence as usual. He reports to Price about the clear motorway, his voice clinical, but you catch the subtle roughness beneath it—something no one else would notice, the only detectable trace of what you shared. What you told Nereida wasn't a lie, you feel robbed of energy, and can hardly muster the strength to tie your dried hair in two braids before tucking yourself in a sleeping bag, staring dazedly at the oncoming stars. 

[madamechrissy]

Do I wanna know?

Pairings: Yandere Gojo x Fem reader

Summary: Satoru Gojo knows as soon as he sees you, he'll do anything to have you, but first? He needs you to need him. Ignoring his friendly offer to let you stay with him to save up for a better place, you soon find yourself kicked out by your landlord, and moving in with Satoru. Every thing seems like it's bringing you to need Satoru more and more... yet he doesn't make a move on you, and soon you start putting things together... is Satoru a stalker?? 9k word count

CW - There are SO MANY lol here we go- gaslighting, manipulation, possessive behavior, stalking, Satoru is so Yandere, teasing and tension, explicit sex, rough sex, face smacking, choking, breed kink, videoing without consent, oral sex (both receiving) trying to baby trap mentions of cum, dirty talk (he calls you a slut a lott lol) and misogyny. SATORU BEING PSYCHO but sexy. It's toxic- Based on this drabble

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one! Thank you for 4k followers omg!!!

You’re not sure how you came to be so close to Satoru Gojo so quickly.

It was as if everywhere you were, he popped up in some way, at first you all met at your work, you were a bartender for a pretty elite club, and Satoru came in along with a few of his CEO friends for drinks once. He had tipped you insanely well, this gorgeous man with shocking white hair, and the most intense blue eyes you’ve seen, you couldn’t even describe the color they were.

Satoru Gojo was rich, handsome, friendly, funny, you couldn’t understand why he even asked for your number. You’re a beautiful girl, but he seemed like the kind of man that had women come to him, but not just that, he’s humble and sweet. He messaged you that night even, hoping you got home safe after your shift, and then asking if you’d like to hang out.

When you pictured hanging out, you honestly pictured maybe a date, or something intimate, but it was just coffee the first time, and he asked real questions about you. The next time you all went to a concert he had tickets for, and you had invited him into your apartment when he’d dropped you off, offering a drink to him.

That’s when Satoru saw your shitty little apartment.

He scoffed, walking around while you went to grab two beers, earning a view of your ass that had him shifting himself in his pants, but he was so upset then, he knew where you lived from the outside, he’d watched you plenty, but this? It’s a teeny one bedroom nothing, surely he could treat you much better than that, you deserved a penthouse, his penthouse.

He’d been watching you since that night weeks ago, he could not get his eyes off you, you took his breath away when his eyes had shifted up your body in that slutty bartending outfit. God he can’t wait until you’re not allowed to wear that anywhere, until you’re all his, and oh he knows you want him, he sees the desire in your dilated eyes, how your lips part when you look at him.

But not just yet.

Satoru can’t just fuck you, no you need to be his and you need to stay his, never, ever leaving him, and to do that he needs you begging for him. He needs there to be no other ideas in that pretty head of yours, so he decides to be your ‘friend’. Even when you step a little closer, lowering your lashes, eyes drinking him in when you take a sip from your bottle.

Beer? You should have top shelf champagne.

Satoru can do that for you.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Satoru.” You say softly, a hand trailing up his chest then, he tilts his head, blue eyes assessing you hungrily.

“Why live here?”

You blink now. “Well, it’s cheap and safe?”

“Don’t you make good money?”

“Um… yeah but I have student loans out the ass for my failed creative writing degree.” You roll your eyes and sigh, earning his chuckle.

“Failed? Didn’t pass?”

“No, I did but it’s useless I guess now. I should’ve gone into medical and been a little smarter, but I didn’t listen.”

“Is it your passion?” You nod then, with a little smile.

Satoru can make it happen, surely.

“You could always stay with me.” You cough then, you all barely know each other. “I have a huge place, I wouldn’t mind.”

“I could never impose like that. Don’t feel so sorry, Satoru, I swear I’m good here.” You lean in now, Satoru leans down, big hand caressing your face, tilting your chin up, his look so intense you can’t breathe. Breaths come in quick pants as your gaze hits his plush, glossy lips, imagining them everywhere.

“It’s an open offer, if anything happens. I’ll be…” He smirks a bit, leaning even closer, so close you taste the sweetness of his cool breath. “All gentlemanly and everything.”

“Would you be?” He chuckles now, lips just an inch from yours, your chest is rising and falling, heart thudding at just what his touch does. “What if I don’t want you to be one right now?”

“What’re you asking, sweets?”

“I…” The phone rings now, you clear your throat, realizing you were about to beg this almost stranger to fuck you.

What’s wrong with you!?

“I am sorry, let me see who it is.” Satoru smiles good naturedly, but you don’t see the glare from behind you, as he scowls at the phone, seeing another man’s name. You text him that you’re busy quickly, earning a little relief for him.

“Boyfriend?” You whirl around now, eyes narrowing a bit.

“No, um… ex boyfriend. We were together for years though, even in college, so we keep in touch sometimes.”

Satoru’s jaw sets, and something… changes then, confusing you a bit, as he sets his drink down. “Who broke up with who?”

“Um, he did.” Your cheeks heat up now under his scrutiny. “I’m sure you don’t wanna talk about my ex though.”

Oh, he does.

He wants your attention all on him, and not a bit of that should be for your ex, who didn’t even want you!? How could anyone not want you? Your gorgeous face that fucks his dreams up, your perfect body like you’re built just for him, how sweet you are, and those damn eyes of yours. He can’t wait to see them fucked out, to see you drooling.

Can’t wait to make sure you never text this man again.

“Is something wrong?” You ask now, he smirks, brightening his face so you don’t figure out all his thoughts.

“Nah, sweets, just curious who’d break up with you.” His casual words hit hard, as he brushes your hair back now, leaning in again and you think maybe he’ll kiss you finally, but he just stares at you, holding your face with strong hands.

So strong he could really crush you if he wants, you feel so small in his presence, so overwhelming. Then he brushes his lips up and against your cheek, your eyes flutter shut, your body throbbing with need, but he pulls away after the little kiss on your face, those blue eyes glittering now, he grins all bright and beautiful, casually putting his hands in his pockets.

“Well, I’m off now, enjoy your night, huh?” You blink a bit at that, wondering then, is something not to his liking about you? You’re studying yourself in the mirror after he left, picking yourself apart.

Your makeup is perfect still, your outfit is sexy, you look really good, and you’d damn near been begging for him silently. Maybe he wasn’t interested? Then why did he look at you like that? You sigh now, washing your face and getting down to just your bra and panties, picking back up the phone and finally writing your ex back, then seeing a text from Satoru.

Satoru: Had fun, sweets. Good night.

You: I had fun too… you didn’t have to leave so early.

Satoru smirks, still in his car, watching your silhouette from behind your curtains, gently walking back and forth, he glares when he realizes you are likely naked or damn close to it. He is going to have to teach you some lessons, it seems, because you are already trying to show the world what’s his.

Or will be.

Satoru: It was getting late, did you want me to stay?

You: Maybe I did. Thank you for tonight though.

Satoru: No problem, love.

Love… that does something to you, Satoru does something to you, when your head hits the bed and you’re staring up at the ceiling. Your ex texts you again, but this time you ignore it, thoughts whirling, you still feel the touch to your cheek, having fucked you up more than even being intimate with someone.

Satoru Gojo, who was he really?

*****

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong?” Satoru knows what’s wrong, he is all sweet hugs and rubbing your back though when you are at his place the next week, sobbing against his chest.

“I’m so sorry… I… My landlord just kicked me out!? And I did nothing wrong, she said she’s renting it for triple to someone? I was past my lease, but shit.” Satoru smiles, but you don’t see it, buried against his strong chest as he strokes your hair softly, pleased that you came to him.

You’re such a good girl.

“Oh, sweetheart, it's okay. Shh.” He’s consoling you so sweetly, you pull back, seeing his concerned gaze as you blink away tears, swiping at your cheeks.

“I can’t afford three times the rent? Satoru I… I make decent enough money, if I could just pay you for a room until I find somewhere? I-”

“Nonsense.” He cuts you off, and your stomach flutters when he’s brushing a hand across your back, palm pressing into the fabric of your dress, like it’s burning you with a touch. “You stay here for free, save up money, yeah?”

“I can’t do that, I have to pay you something. It’s already a huge imposition-”

“Have you seen this place? It’s not shit to have you here, won’t cost me anything anyway.” You have seen it, his insane penthouse with a view that’s fucking ridiculous. It’s spotless, only the finest everything all over, you know Satoru’s very wealthy as a CEO but he screams old money too.

“I would feel terrible. Could I cook, pick up?”

“I have cleaners. Cooking though… yeah, you good at it?”

You smile tremulously, wiping your eyes again. “I’m so good! I also could give the best neck massages after work?”

“Now that sounds perfect. It’s a deal then, stay as long as you need, but cook yummy things. As for a massage, we’ll see if you’re good as you say.”

“Swear, they’re magic! Oh goodness, I have to get to my shift soon, ugh… is there a way you could help me get my things? I’ll just leave the furniture, it’s old, I can buy new shit.”

“Absolutely.”

You hug him tightly, kissing his cheek then, he tenses at it, at the brush of your lips, at the curves of your body against him. Fuck he can’t wait to make you his.

“Satoru Gojo, you're amazing.” He chuckles then.

“I know.”

*****

Living with Satoru Gojo, who walks around shirtless is… difficult. Your tummy clenches, mouth gulping the first time you see him, his chiseled perfect body, all dewy after a shower. Towel slung across his neck, sauntering over to you with that smirk of his, so casual as you’re in the kitchen chopping up veggies, he brushes his fingertips across your back, driving you insane.

Shivers slink down your spine when he leans over you, breath against your neck, you damn near arch back into him as he murmurs in your ear. “Looks yummy.”

Fuck.

You take a shaky breath, hands trembling as you then nick yourself with the knife, you wince then. “Ow, shit!”

“Lemme see.” He takes your hand gently, peering at the drop of crimson that pushes out in droplets then, the way he takes your hand even is too much.

Weeks of living together, walking around in arguably almost nothing in front of him, and he hasn’t hit on you, despite his eyes devouring you, like they’re touching you. No he’d smile and lazily trail his gaze, maybe brush against you in the kitchen, give you a hug after work, you’d rub his neck just so and he’d grip your wrists, smiling up at you, to the point you’re losing control.

All you can think of is him.

Satoru loves it that way, too, he loves hearing you murmur his name in your sleep, he’s got cameras all over, especially in your room, and he can even hear you on them. Your little whines of pleasure, he’d see how your hands would move under your blankets, as you stayed as quiet as can be, but he heard your whimpers, your sweet little moans.

He strokes his cock every night watching you, listening, waiting.

He needs you to really need him.

“Just a little nick, I’m fine.” You assure him, then your mouth drops as he takes your finger, sucking it into his mouth.

He’s sucking on your damn finger, hot wet mouth and the lewd images destroying the fragile hold you have on your sanity, snowy lashes lowered as he presses his tongue up on your fingertip, putting pressure. You stand there quiet, but then there’s a little sound that escapes your throat, a little whine, and when he pulls back he smiles knowingly.

He licks his lips, a drop of blood on them, tilting his head as he releases your finger now. “Better?”

“Um… y-yes. Thank you, Satoru.” You manage to speak somehow, your voice hoarse, you clear your throat then. “Clumsy.”

“Mind somewhere?”

“Yeah. I guess so.”

Another week goes by, Satoru watches you every chance he gets, when he’s at work he watches you on his phone, he’s got a tracker in yours, for your safety you know, when something concerns him. Your daily trips were work, maybe the store, and a couple times a week the gym. But you’re somewhere he’s never seen you at, and it concerns him then.

Where are you?

He zooms in on the location.

Someone’s house?

Satoru’s jaw tightens then, and when you’re home that night, you notice he’s not friendly, or sweet, or talkative. He barely responds as you try to engage with him, and when you go to rub his neck, he stops your hands with an icy glare. “What’s… did I upset you?”

“How could you upset me?” He stands up, looming so tall, you shrink back just a bit, the backs of your legs hitting the fancy grey couch, until you’re sitting in it, and Satoru’s arms are on either side of you. “How could you, sweets, hmm?”

“I… I don’t know? Um…” Your mouth goes dry when he gets on his knees, spreading your thighs, your breaths coming quicker, pussy throbbing around nothing, thinking of him, feeling his long slender fingers on your skin. “Satoru?”

“You’re a perfect girl, aren’t you? A good girl?” Your hips shift, his eyes dart down, smiling as he peeks under your skirt now, a wet spot forming on your panties, he can’t wait to finally taste you, when you’re good of course.

“Good girl? I… don’t know.” Your hands are at your side, his face is right against yours again, your thighs on either side of his body, pressing into him.

“What’d you get up to today?” He asks, all casual like he doesn’t know, as he assesses your body for marks, bites, hickeys. Your body belongs to him, even if you don’t know it just yet. He finds none, making him just a little less furious, but now he feels the plush of your thighs in his grip, picturing shoving them against your chest.

You’d look so sexy in a mating press, wouldn’t you?

“I um… went to grab dinner, then I gave some shit to my ex that I had left from the apartment.” Satoru exhales in relief.

“Oh yeah? I could’ve helped you, love.”

“No, it’s awkward. I was holding onto it, I decided to just let it go, he didn’t choose me, you know?”

“Who wouldn’t choose you?” You lean forward, his eyes dart to your breasts, as a strap slips over your shoulder.

“Satoru, you're too good to me, and why? How have I come to deserve you in my life?” He exhales, adjusting the strap with two fingers, brushing your skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps, he watches your nipples perk up under your tank top, furious that anyone has ever seen them.

“Is that all? You gave him his shit?” He tries to hide his anger, his jealousy.

“That’s all.” You answer, and he stands again, leaving you wanting and empty when he’s not touching you.

“Should have asked me to help. I’m calling it a night, yeah?” You manage a little nod, he tilts your chin up as he stands over you, your body reacting so violently you’re shaking damn near, unable to stop the reaction. He smiles knowingly, leaving you then, and you glare at his strong, perfect back as he walks off, giving you a little look before going to his room.

Satoru knew you saw him somehow? You can swear it. Are you freaking out for no reason? Surely he didn’t care what you did, he maybe just wanted to make sure you were okay, maybe he could sense you were stressed somehow?

Then why is there this gnawing feeling?

*****

The next day you’re trying to get to work, and your car won’t turn over. You curse it out, it’s old sure but it’s strong and has a good engine. Satoru had already offered to give you one of his cars, saying you could pay him back later, as if you could ever afford a Mercedes Benz. You’d turned him down of course, and now he’s standing in his insanely huge parking garage, right out the side of your window.

You open the door, sighing as you get out of the car. “I don’t know what’s wrong with it, ugh!”

“It’s an ancient relic?”

“Hey!” You playfully shove him, laughing then. “It is, I guess. But I don’t know why it won’t start?”

“I’ll have my mechanic check it, he’ll love this archeology.”

“Satoru!” You’re laughing so hard then, god he always makes you laugh, you wish he’d make you moan but you throw those thoughts far back.

“I’m kidding, sweets, kinda.” He narrows those blue eyes, his jaw tensing just a bit then as he assesses your car.

Couldn’t be because he took out your catalytic converter.

“Hmm, maybe a dead battery or alternator went out?” Satoru looks at you amusedly, you’re cute, knowing something about cars. But he needs you to stop worrying about things like that.

“For now, I’ll take you to work, yeah?” You exhale, nodding then.

“Thank you so much, Satoru, you’re so sweet to me.” You say later, as he drops you off at work, top down, grinning with those Gucci shades hiding those baby blues, some of the girls from the bar are out front, they start giggling when they see the two of you.

“He’s so hot!?” One of your friends loudly whispers.

“Shh, I know!” Gojo hears you though, grinning as he swipes a hand through his snowy locks.

“Hello, ladies.” He says, getting out then to come open your door, earning the swoons of everyone. You smile gratefully at him.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

“No worries, tell me when to pick you up, mmkay?” You nod then, he gives you a little kiss on the head, and your friends make no secret of how fine they think he is.

“Is he your man?” Your other friend asks, you shake your head then, while Satoru gets back in the car. “Bitch, why?”

“Is he single?” Your other friend asks.

Something makes you sick then, thinking of seeing Satoru with other women, and surely it would happen soon, yeah? He’s gorgeous and can get who he wants, and he hasn’t yet shown he wants you. You peek back at him as he is starting back up his car, looking at your friend again.

“He’s single.” Satoru wants to laugh at you. He’s not single, you’re his already,  you just haven’t gotten where he needs you.

“Why not date him?”

“He’s not interested. Drop it.” You hiss, waving at Satoru, he tilts his glasses down then, the unreal eyes behind the snowy lashes drinking you in.

“Have a good day, sweets.” He leaves a bunch of giggling, whispering friends and heat on your cheeks when he drives off, grin glinting in the setting sun, because now he knows just where you are.

*****

After two more weeks of living with Satoru, you’re at about a month with him, and despite the endless little brushes against your skin, the little touches while you cook, the hugs and pecks on your cheeks, he never makes a move. You moan just a little louder at night thinking of him, wondering then when you’d see him in the morning why he looked so tired.

You’re wondering about lots of things.

“Satoru, do you date?” You ask one day, and he looks at you lazily, trailing up and down your body the way he does, the way that makes you ache with longing.

“Do I date? I haven’t in a while, why?”

“You’re so… you?” He snorts then.

“What’s that mean?”

“Like, gorgeous? Smart and sweet? Rich? How do you not date?”

“When I get with someone it’ll be permanent, there won’t be any dating or fucking around, so I guess I’m kind of picky about it. Why? Would it make you jealous if I brought a girl over?”

Yes, yes it would.

“Oh, no, I’m cool with whatever. It’s your place, I just live here.” Satoru leans you against the counter then, barring you with strong arms, his thigh brushing between yours, he feels it then, the heat that builds as you shift your hips just a bit, eyes darting up to his.

“Wouldn’t mind if I fucked someone right here? Ya sure?”

“It’s your place.” You manage weakly again, watching thin nostrils flare, his pupils blown out as you shift again, and he feels your hot pussy against his thigh, your hands slipping up his shirt slowly. “You like to fuck, Satoru?”

He blinks now, shifting his thigh, tilting his head as he studies you. “You’re asking if I like to fuck?” You nod, just barely, and one of his hands slips down your side, his cock throbbing under his jeans, thinking about devouring your pussy right on the kitchen counter. He already has tasted you off those panties he stole, he imagines it’s even sweeter from the source. “Do you?”

Your cheeks flush, eyes lowering nervously, Satoru tilts your chin up, making you look right at him. “I didn’t like it much, no, but… I like to…”

“Play with your pussy?” You bite your lower lip, rolling your hips once more, waiting for him to break, but he acts casual as he’s ruining what’s left of your addled mind. “You brought it up, don’t be shy.”

“Yes, I like to. Do you… play with…”

“Slutty questions.” He smirks now, backing up, you look in horror as you realize you’ve left a damn wet spot on his thigh, but he brushes it with his thumb leisurely, lapping it off his tongue, leaving you with your mouth open. “Mmm. Have a good night, pretty.”

You’re shaking when you get to your room, literally dying over him, knowing he’s in the next room but won’t come near you is torture, but for him it’s fun. He’s watching you pace around your room avidly, damn near chuckling when you strip off your clothes so quickly, flopping on the bed and covering your face with your hands, pressing your knees together.

He’ll make you feel better soon, don’t worry.

But then, you pick up your phone, earning his glare that of course you can’t see, he picks up his other phone now, the one that shows him every message and call you make. Some guy has been trying to ask you out for a couple weeks, but you’d ignored him, like a good girl. Now, however… you’re texting him back!?

That just won’t do.

He’s so absorbed in staring at your messages, as you smile just a bit, wondering if there was a way to get under Gojo’s cool exterior.

Maybe a date with someone?

******

You’re dressed in some slinky outfit, it hugs your body just right, hitting about mid thigh, a black lacy little number. You step out of your room, his mouth drops open when he sees you, too much of your smooth skin revealed, your breasts on display for everyone who would see, you smile up at him all pretty and do a little spin as he grips his hands into fists.

He wants to rip that dress the fuck off you, bury his cock inside your pretty little cunt and fuck you hard, fuck you so hard you sob those eyelashes off, so hard your perfect hair is a tangled goddamn mess. Teach you that you’re his and only his, that you belong to him, have you cum so hard you can’t form anymore thoughts of ever leaving in your pretty head.

He can’t even speak when you nervously ask, “How do I look?”

How do you look? You look like you need your ass beat, your clit overstimulated to the point you beg him to stop, look like you need to get that pretty neck choked out by his big hands. And that little smile on your face, like you know just what you’re doing to him? Satoru’s teeth click together, jaw tensing now while he sits there on the desk chair looking at you.

“You look gorgeous. But then you always do.” You blush at that, lashes lowering at the praise. “But why so dressed up? Going out with… friends?”

You know he knows.

You hear it in his voice, in how tense it gets. You smile then, shaking your head, lacing your fingers together in front of you as you feel those blue eyes touching your skin. “No, I’m going on a date.”

Satoru’s little facade breaks for just a moment, he can’t keep it up just now, and it’s like you know, you’re being this little brat and not his sweet little thing right now. He can’t wait to fuck the attitude out of you, as hard as it’s making him. “Oh? A date, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while you know.” You step up to him just a bit, smiling so pretty, devious little brat. “A while.”

“A while.” He repeats, voice hoarse, before realizing you’re trying to play him, aren’t you? “Since?”

“Since anything. This guy seems super nice, maybe he’ll… think I’m hot, you know? Be attracted too? We’ll see.”

“Who wouldn’t want you? That’s stupid.” He huffs.

“Oh, is it? Well I’m not everyone’s type, you know?” You blink those damn lashes at him, he raises a brow. “So we’ll see. But don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“Don’t you need a ride?” He asks, as you head towards the door, grabbing your little purse now.

“Oh no, he’s going to come get me, don’t worry.” Satoru’s hand stops yours on the knob, hard body pressed against your back, your breath catches, quickening now, watching the veins raise on his hand, as it covers yours completely. “Something wrong, Satoru?”

“Just wanna make sure you’re safe, you should let me take you.”

“Don’t even impose yourself, I’ll be fine.” You turn and look up at him, his plush lips just a breath from yours. “Everything okay?”

“Of course it is, you can text me if you need me to get you though, okay?” You exhale now, slightly dejected.

You want him to say he doesn’t want you to go, fuck you want him to grab you and keep you here, he makes you feel so fucking toxic, the insane thoughts making your mind whirl, your tummy coil with desire. One of his hands grips your hip, and you feel his length against your back, your eyes shut as you grip the door knob so hard it hurts.

“I asked you something, sweets.” His grip tightens, you open your eyes again, looking up at him.

“Of course, Satoru.”

“Have fun then.” He is back to being a bright, happy Gojo, blue eyes glittering, letting you go when you ache for him to drag you against him. “Be safe, yeah? Creeps everywhere, stalkers even.”

He’s following you in his car as soon as you take off in this asshole’s car, he tracks your location and finds you’re at some restaurant, he sees you then, up front at a table shivering a bit in your slutty dress. Part of him thinks, that’s just what you get, but another part thinks, fuck this dude for not giving you his jacket, Satoru sizes him up with a flick of his eyes, fists clenching the steering wheel.

You keep peering at your phone, you don’t look like you’re really having fun, what are you playing at? Are you trying to make him insane, trying to make him more jealous than he already was? He was jealous anyone even fucking saw you altogether, he thinks how good it would be to breed you constantly, to keep you knocked up with his babies, stay at home for only his eyes to see.

The thoughts drive him insane, as does seeing this dude’s hand on your bare thigh now, thighs for him to touch, he is so furious he almost blows his cover, taking several breaths as he prepares to rip this dude’s hands off. How dare anyone touch you!? And then he gets it, your text.

Satoru, I’m so sorry, but are you busy?

Satoru exhales in relief, leaning his head back on the driver’s seat, brushing his hand across his face.

Having fun on your date?

Satoru is being petty but he can’t help it, he sees your cute little glare as you poke on your phone, and his hand slips higher up your leg.

Not really. I’ll be fine though, sorry.

Satoru panics now.

What’s wrong?

He watches as you type.

I feel really uncomfortable, could you please come get me? I’m so sorry to put you out like this…

Satoru comes right out of the car, walking across the street now, and your eyes widen in shock, lips parting as he saunters up, grinning and holding out a hand. “Hey pretty, wanna get out of here?”

“Excuse me!?” The man sputters, but you giggle, Satoru wonders if you’re the crazy one here, him or you?

“I’d love to.” You put your little hand in his, following him to his car then, when Satoru slides in however he cups your face, grip tight on you, his eyes glaring and fucking furious. “How’d you get here in ten seconds? Instant transmission like Goku?”

“You’re such a brat.” He mutters, glaring now as you grin, one hand in your hair, pulling, making you cry out, a sound that makes Satoru’s cock leak precum, just from the sound of you. “You did this it piss me off, hmm?”

“Why would you be mad, Toru?” You put a hand on his thigh now, leaning forward, showing more and more of your breasts. “You don’t even want me like that, haven’t you made it clear?”

He starts laughing now, he’s feral, manic in his insane laugh, pulling your hair even harder. “I don’t huh? Then tell me what the fuck this is?”

Satoru takes your hand putting it over his clothed cock now, you whimper feeling him for the first time, hard for you, his breaths coming faster and faster as you go to stroke him, earning his own throaty moan. “Are you jealous?”

“No, because he’s not shit, and you’re mine anyway.”

“How am I yours!? Don’t even kiss me. Don’t even-”

Satoru yanks you to him, slamming his lips on yours then, devouring your mouth, tongue swiping in every inch of it, swirling as he loses his fragile sense of control. You taste so good, you feel so good, he’s wanted you for so long, he’s brutal with his lips, with his teeth, with how he grips your chin so fucking tight. You’re falling apart for him, then, when he yanks back.

His breath is hot on your lips, his hand slipping between your thighs then, you can’t stop the cry that escapes your lips, when he finds you over your panties, soaking wet for him. “This for me, or for him?”

“Stupid- ah!” Satoru pulls your hair so hard tears prick your eyes, stroking you over your sticky panties.

“Watch that mouth, and that attitude before I fuck it out of you.” His whisper and his touch makes you drip down his fingers, you’re arching your hips as he touches you, pressing on your clothed clit now. “So you get this wet for me?”

“You get that hard from me?” You counter, he laughs again, shaking his head at your audacity, slipping his finger under your panties now, finding your bare cunt.

“Stupid fucking soaked, huh? From a kiss?”

“Just touch me, please…” You’re begging him now, leaning closer, lips pressing against his, drinking his moans when he shoves two fingers in your eager hole, stretching you and making you gasp. “Satoru…”

“Do you deserve to cum, after acting this way?” He demands, curling his fingers up in your slick walls, pressing that spot that has your eyes rolling back, entire body reacting to him, dripping down his sleeves, his watch you’re so wet. “Answer me.”

The first slap on your cheek shocks you with the sting that throbs, you glare at him, slapping him back on his pretty face, earning him gripping your wrist brutal as his fingers fuck into you. The car is heating up right in the middle of the damn street, you hear your pussy squishing, hear your cries and gasps.

“Asked you a question, sweets. Seeing your ex, going on a date, showing off this body to everyone? Ya think you’re a good girl?” You shake your head then, and he groans, kissing you messy, tongues drooling saliva, thumb finding your clit now, and you’re close, so close, clinging to him.

“N-no but… please…” He laughs as he pushes you to the edge, sucking you off his fingers then, groaning, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck you taste even better than your panties.”

“My what!?”

“C’mere, ya wanna be a good girl for me?” You blink rapidly, nodding then, and he revs up the car, pulling out, you are jostled as he begins to drive like a maniac, you’re grasping him, half thrown on his lap.

“Where are we going?”

“Home. You’re gonna make it up to me, being so slutty, huh?”

“Slutty?”

“Slutty mouth.” Satoru unzips his pants then, and you gulp when you see him for the first time, thick and long, veiny cock so pretty, the tip pink, drooling drops of precum already. You stare at it, he feels it as he drives, peeking at you now, grabbing the back of your hair again. “Put it to use, and I’ll let you cum.”

“Fuck…” You have never done something like this, but you find yourself bent over him then, taking your tongue and lapping at the precum on his tip, while he drives with one hand, his other, entangling against the nape of your neck.

“Gonna be my perfect little slut, no one else's, huh?” You nod eagerly, you’re stupid, this man literally stalked you on your date, he’s acting possessive and psychotic, but your pussy is clenching around nothing. “Say it.”

“Your perfect little slut.” You whisper, he moans then, husky and guttural as you suck him in your mouth now, hot and wet, swirling your tongue around the ridge of his tip, earning his hips bucking, cock twitching.

“That’s it, I knew you could behave. There you go, good girl.” You’re trembling, sucking him deep in your throat, over and over as your cunt is drooling, dripping down the panties that are becoming soppy wet and pathetic like you. “Feel that slutty mouth, never gonna suck anyone again, are you baby?”

“Mmm…” You’re moaning eagerly, sucking his cock as deep as you can, he’s shoving your head fully down to where you’re slobbering all over him, tears pricking your eyes, you’re shaking while he uses your throat, your mouth, as your taste his salty precum, shoving it in your throat deeper and deeper.

“F-fuck… you’re finally being good, huh? Bet you wanna cum, bet your pussy is soaked, yeah?”

He knows you can’t answer, he’s loving the choked out sounds you’re making as you suck him down more and more, until he finally pulls up to his house, he pulls you off him, cock glittering with your saliva. He moans, kissing you again, teeth sinking into your lip, tasting himself off your tongue, you’re whining, trembling, he chuckles just a bit then.

“Look at you, sucked it that good? Should I fucking be mad?” He demands then, you gasp at his touch on your pussy again.

“It’s been a long time for me, okay?” You whisper, he exhales now.

“No one will touch you again when I’m done, yeah? No one.” You nod weakly, Satoru smiles now. “Good, you’re so good f’me.”

Satoru’s got you in his penthouse so quickly you’re disoriented, and as soon as the door is closed behind you, he grabs you, slams you against the wall, and kisses you again, hard and desperate. His hands slips down to your ass, squeezing it roughly in his big palms, long fingers pressing in as he takes over everything, making you moan into his mouth.

You can feel his cock pressing against your tummy now, thick and insistent, on your tummy, half put up, his pants unzipped, and you can’t help but arch into him, rubbing against him, tip toeing to get close. He’s so rough with you, so demanding, and it’s making you wetter, making your body respond in ways it never has before, it’s insane what he’s doing to you.

He shoves a hand back up your dress, twisting your panties to the side again, rubbing in teasing circles, as tears fall out of your eyes, looking at them and moaning. “You’re crying?”

You manage a sniffle, fuck you looks so perfect like this, in tears for him, it only makes Satoru’s cock spurt more precum, so hard it hurts, he can’t wait to bury it so deep in you, he’s picturing it as he slides his fingers into your soaked cunt. You moan loudly, you’re tiny hands clinging to him, leg around his hip, letting his fingers fuck you deeper.

“Hear it? You’re so loud, so messy, huh?” He’s whispering, all you can do is nod, pupils so blown out your eyes are dark. “Look at you, fucked out from my fingers? That won’t do, baby.”

You barely register his fingers sliding out of your pussy again, you whine at the emptiness, but then he’s on his knees, shoving your dress up over your hips, yanking your panties off you. He’s throwing one of your legs over his shoulders, bright blue eyes staring up under his snowy lashes, you’re clinging to his hair, chest rising and falling as he places a kiss on your pussy.

“You were so good, I’ll treat you so good, hmm? Make you feel s’good?” You just nod, earning a smack on your pussy, making you gasp. “What do we say, little slut?”

“Please.” Satoru Gojo then his face buried between your legs, his tongue sliding along your slit, tasting your arousal that starts pouring down his mouth. You gasp as he nibbles on your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

He’s eating you out like he’s starved, slutty moans from both of your throats, your head slamming against the wall. His stupidly long  tongue is moving in circles around your clit, his fingers pumping in and out of you, and you can’t believe how good it feels. You’ve never been with a man who’s so hungry for you, who devours you like this, his fingers making your squelching wetness even louder.

Your hands entangle in those silky white locks as he fingers and licks like he’s always known how to, but it comes so natural, flicking his tongue against your little twitchy clit over and over. Your cunt is so wet his fingers slip, before shoving back in, pressing your spongy spot inside your little hole, all while you’re a pathetic mess, sniffling and hiccuping.

He can’t wait to make you stupid for him, beyond this, beyond anything, can’t wait to own you, possess you in every fucking way. As he sucks your tiny clit in his hungry mouth, he moans against it, looking up and watching you shatter for him. You’re so close to cumming, you can feel it building.

“Gonna cum, please, please-” You whine out, gasping, thighs shaking as you’re too weak to stand, but then he stops, leaving you gasping for breath, your body on the edge, pulsating all over through every vein..

“Beg for it.” He orders, sadistic smirk on a face half soaked with you, as he licks his lower lip, glossy.

“Please, Satoru, please make me cum.” You whisper, your voice shaking, and he groans, shocking you when he yanks you down, you slam onto the ground wincing and gasping as you hit the floor, and he starts palming at your dress, until he’s ripped it completely off you. “Satoru!? What!?”

Your dress is in pieces now, much to his pleasure, all you have now is what’s left of it under you, and you’re naked aside from heels and a bra. “You’ll never wear that fucking dress again, got me? Showing off what’s mine when I wasn’t even with you? Do you hear me?”

You nod then, you should be terrified, but fuck you want him too much, as he shoves your thighs up high, then dives back in, his tongue swirling around your clit, his teeth grazing it again as he bites it. You scream out at the pain, he shoves those fingers back in, three this time.

“Too much, too much!” You’re sobbing out, and he laughs now.

“No baby, your slutty pussy can take it, huh? Lemme hear you scream my name.” He shoves his fingers in so deep and his tongue is drinking you as your orgasm hits you, your body convulsing against his mouth, your juices flowing onto his face, everywhere.

You can hear him, lapping you up, drinking every bit, all while the best orgasm of your existence makes you blind, you’re floating, the only thing that tethers you is when he looks down at you, fingers still buried. He slams his lips back on yours, you taste your pussy on his lips, whimpering and clinging to him desperately, bare as he’s fully dressed.

“You’re made for me, only me to taste, just me.” You just nod, and he chuckles, shaking his head. “Can’t talk baby?”

“You, jus’ you… Toru…” He’s picked you up to stand, before he’s pulling you up against him, holding your naked frame against him, carrying you to your bed now, lips not coming up for air until he’s tossed you on your bed.

“Bra off, now.” He orders, you do as he says, tossing it and then peeking at the camera you know is there, smiling before you look back at him. He’s glaring, unbuttoning his dress shirt now. “Looking at something?”

“Oh, nothing. Do you record? Will you stroke yourself to this later?” He slips off his shirt, leaving you speechless until he’s laying on top of you again, eyeing your perfect tits and little smile.

“You knew?” You tilt your head now, leaning up on your elbows, a hand stroking his cheek.

“Did you like how I played with my pussy in front of it? How I moaned your name?” Satoru’s ended now, scowling at you.

“You liked it, being watched? By me?” You nod again, swallowing as he slides off his pants, yanking off your heels, kissing along the tops of your feet before lapping at your ankles. “You did it knowing?”

“You wouldn’t come to me.”

Satoru’s eyes are on you, you’re his entire world now, his obsession, his fixation. He’s going to claim you, fuck you until you forget every other man who ever existed. He’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to love it, he can already tell when his cock is hot and heavy against your inner thigh, when your hips are rolling up, and you’re dripping down the bed.

“You get off on it, me being fucking obsessed, huh?” You nod weakly, and Satoru has your thighs spread and pressed up, his tip drooling precum against your aching hole. “Then let me be clear, you'll never see or date anyone again, got it?”

Satoru grins sadistically as you weakly nod, whispering a-  “Yes, Satoru.” He moans then, filling your tight hole in one stroke of his huge cock, stuffing you so full you scream out, pussy gripping him like a vise, drooling down his veiny cock to his balls, pooling under you both as his own eyes roll back.

“Feel her, made f’me, just me? Mine, mine, mine.” He’s whispering it like some insane mantra as he begins to move, fucking into your soppy cunt over and over, you’re pulsing and fluttering around him as he pounds your cunt, nasty words spilling from his pouty lips. “My little slut, hmm? Mine.”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage, when he slams your cervix with his drooly tip, leaning up to grip the headboard and pressing a thigh higher, railing your cunt so much it hurts, but you’re dying, drool pooling out of the side of your lips, eyes fluttering, trying to stay open.

“That’s it, oh look at you, fucked stupid already? I’m just starting with you, baby, gonna fuck your pretty mind up till it’s all me.” He leans down, rolling his hips and grinning with his eyes lit up, so dark they look black for just a moment. “That’s it, cum all over my cock, can’t help yourself huh?”

You do then, you’re cumming all over him, muscles contracting around his cock so hard she tries to push him out with the force, so much wetness dripping it’s streaming across his cock, earning his breathy moan. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, your thighs shaking, you are stupid, you can’t form one thought in your pathetic brain as your orgasm waves over your body.

“Aw, fucked dumb? Poor stupid baby. I’ll keep fucking all those thoughts out of your head, hmm? Till it’s just me.”

“Satoru… jus’ you… s’good I…” You can’t talk anymore, not when his cock’s strokes are hitting just right, not when his tip drags against your gspot before bruising your cervix. You’re clinging to him, nails pressing into his strong back, as pulls back, watching your tummy bulge.

“Fucking up your guts, fucking up your brain. S’all me, huh?” You can’t answer, you’re too fucked out, but his slap brings you too, he smacks both cheeks, gripping your thighs brutal, leaving bruises. “Focus, baby, focus.”

“S’all you…” You answer, you’re so obedient, you’re so good for him.

“You’re such a good girl, perfect pussy, perfect body. Perfect face. Haunting my every fucking thought, torturing me.” He shoves your thighs high, pressing them against your breasts, folding you in half and bottoming out, you scream at it, hands gripping the sheets beneath you as you’re stretched and filled so much. “You’re so good you deserve all my cum, all these babies in you.”

You can’t register concern, he’s pounding you while gripping your face so tightly, you feel so tiny as he works his long, muscular body, as he breaks your body and mind with his cock, slamming harder and harder. You hear the sounds of it, the smack smack smack of his skin, as his balls slap your asshole, covered in slick from your cunt that’s drooling down his length.

“That’s it, milk my cock, so fuckin good, you want it, me to fill you, make you drip me for days.” You just weakly cry out, sniffling, tears pouring down your cheeks. “So beautiful like this, crying f’me? Oh baby, you’re perfect like this.”

Satoru loves your tears, your trembling lips, as you grip him so good, he feels it, you’re going to cum again, eager pussy sucking him in loudly, as he fucks you so hard the headboard slams the wall, you’re barely hanging on, sobbing and mumbling. You’re so fucked out it’s cute, opening and closing your mouth, unable to speak.

“It’s all me in there, yeah? Gonna be all me, gonna fill you so good, baby just wait, f-fuck!” Satoru slows then, pumping your cunt full, hot gooey cum sticking to your walls and making you cum right with him as he fucks it further, deeper.

“Satoru!” You’re mumbling his name, gasping for breath as he fills you, all of you, so hot and deep, until he finally lowers your legs, laughing softly.

“Oh I’m gonna have so much fun with you, you’re never leaving me, are you? Aw, can’t talk baby?”

He’s got you flipped on your trembling knees next, burying his face in your pussy, cleaning all his cum out and groaning. “Too much, too much!”

“Taste us together, fuck. Made for me, just me.” He’s on top of you next, prone over you, fucking out his first load and prepping you for another, all while he’s choking your neck squeezing so hard you almost faint. He’s whispering in your ear, breath tickling, hands over your sensitive skin. “Love it, hands around this neck, beg me to cum in you, fill you.”

“P-please… please fill me- ah!” You’re fading as he chokes you harder, spitting and drooling in your mouth, cock wrecking you as he fills you again, his sweat dripping from his skin as he works you. He groans then, hand pressing on your tummy.

“So full of me, but you need more, need no question in your pretty head who you belong to.”

After another load you’re weak, and he’s still going. When you finally wake in the morning, after several loads pumped in your pussy, you’re a mess, wobbling weakly as you step out of your room, thinking of facing him. Would things be different now, was it all passion, in the moment? Was it just sex? Was it more…

You smell something sweet then, inhaling as you slip on one of his dress shirts, you’d gone from fucking in your room to the bathroom, all the way to his room. At some point he had you bent over the couch, at another he had you pressed against the shower wall. It’s like little fragments, your pussy is aching, your experience has never prepared you for his size or stamina.

But you feel deliciously fucked out.

You catch his eye then, he looks at you, exhaling at how beautiful you are, your eyes are a little puffy from crying, you have bruises and marks littering your neck, you’re wearing his expensive dress shirt and nothing else. He feels himself hard just looking at you like this, remembering all the cum he’d pumped you full, wondering if it was still dripping out?

“Good morning, sweets. Get some shut eye?” He teases, winking at you as he flips his spatula, finishing the stack of pancakes he’s made.

“You cook, Satoru?” You ask, throat hoarse from your moans, from slobbering all over his cock and having him choke you. You clear it nervously, earning his smirk.

“Cute.” He murmurs, pulling out a chair for you. “Of course I cook, I just enjoy you cooking for me, so sexy watching you, barefoot in the kitchen you know.” 

“That sounds so…”

“Sit down, you need that energy baby. Last night I know I took it easy…’

“What!?” You blink then, sitting as he plates your breakfast, wincing at how sore your entire body is.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, look at my girl.” The words ruin you, when he leans down, cupping your face and his thumb brushes along your jaw. “Covered in bruises.”

“I am?” You look down and see your thighs, your chest, in hickeys and bruises, red and purple all over. “Oh…”

“Don’t worry you’re not going anywhere today anyway. You should take a break from work, you know.” He chuckles and kisses you. “Fuck I’ve waited so long for you, for you to be mine.”

You are kissed by him then, you eagerly meet his lips, before he pulls back, taking a breath. You frown when you see your phone is over by his coffee. “Is that my phone?”

“Oh, mmhmm. Needed to block any guys, you know, also that period tracker said you’re ovulating today.” You blink again as you sip the orange juice he gives you, nearly choking on it, his blue eyes have gotten even brighter, his grin huge as he watches your expressions.

“Satoru…”

“I threw out your birth control, cancelled your prescription.”

“Satoru!”

“What baby?” He sits you up on the table, between your thighs, your body violently reacts when he grabs you under your chin, his other hand slipping down your breasts. “I know, I should have breakfast first, is that what you want?”

“I… you…”

“Gonna look so fucking sexy full of me.” He lifts your thighs, sliding up the shirt you wear as he sits right on the seat, sliding it up to get a full view of your abused, puffy cunt. “Oooh, fucked her up. Do you hurt, baby?”

“Y-yes… I- ah!” Satoru’s lapped at your pussy now, from your hole to your clit, chuckling as he pulled the lips apart. “T-Toru…”

“Look at her, she’s ready for more, she’s so greedy.” He’s buried his face against you again, and you’re cumming so quickly, he laughs at it. “So easy, too. Ah we’re gonna fill her up more, don’t worry, gotta knock you the fuck up.”

You’re going to protest then, this is insane, he’s crazy, but when you’re getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked again, you soon forget your protests, as Satoru grips your tits and pinches your sensitive nipples, pounding your hole, all you can do is cry out and arch your back. Satoru smiles against your neck as you fall apart, as he pictures breeding you.

He’s got you right where he wants.

And you both know you’re never leaving.

Ahahah this was INSANE, none of this is cool unless it's Gojo, stay safe out here lol. Hope you all enjoyed! (yes all my stories are Arctic Monkeys or Chase Atlantic lyrics loll)

Taglist: @silvarys @strychnynegirl @indiewritesxoxo @alygator77 @moonlitwitchdaisy @cuntphoric @aldebrana @levislug @haruhatake @ninikrumbs @xixflower @star2112 @nanasukii28 @sukuxna0 @naammiii @uhnosav @victoria1676 @thequeenofcurses @targaryenluvs @jinjen @yesdere @shokosmokes @aishi-toru  @labelt-san @chiyokoemilia @makingtimemine @seeing-stars-alt @bunheadusa @alt--er--love @1satoruu @thikcems @plimplimmeiododoi @watermelonslut

[monstersholygrail]

In a Free Use City, your knowledge on the subject of your job isn’t always what’s most important. And in your case, it’s the least important. You were actually known as quite a ditz in the Free Use City Offices.

You worked in the tech department surrounded by a bunch of hot and nerdy guys who spoke in yours you couldn’t even begin to understand. You were just happy to be there and they were happy to ogle you and press against you whenever you asked for their help with any simple task.

They thought they had the upper hand on you, thinking they were so clever. But you had them all on a leash. An entire department at your disposal to give you pleasure whenever you wanted.

Your favorite man to bother was IT Robot. He got his work done fast and spent the rest of the day goofing off. The easy air around him made him approachable and the way all his shirts fit snugly against his bulging pecs made you drip with need.

You can’t help but spare him another glance before hesitantly returning your gaze to your own computer, the screen filled with the program you still haven’t figured out. Great, now you were confused and horny.

“Need me for something?” IT Robot’s voice suddenly purrs into your ears. His steel-like grip grabbing onto your plush hips and pulling you back into his hard chest.

His body molds to yours so perfectly it has you tingling all over. Arousal gushing and soaking through your panties. He turns you on so bad even when he barely did anything but it was like your body was out of control. As if it could be programmed just for him when he was the robot.

“Help… I hurt,” you say with a pout, your mind turning to complete mush whenever you’re around him.

IT Robot flashes you with that charming lopsided smile of his, heavily amused by the puddle you melt into whenever he talks to you.

“Where does it hurt, huh? It hurt here?”

He caresses your soft belly with an appreciation that borders on worship before one hand slips beneath your skirt, nuzzling his fingers between your soaked folds.

“Or here?” He asks while the other gives a little pat on your head.

A low whine escapes your lips as he rolls his fingers over your clit, your hips jerking into the touch. And that’s all it takes to have IT Robot plunging three of his fingers deep into your cunt, making you gasp and tremble in his arms.

“That’s what I thought… Don’t worry your pretty little head, I’ll fix the issue right away. It’s what I do after all.”

Your vision blurs as you dive into the pleasure head first. Choking out harsh moans as IT Robot’s fingers move inside you with precision like he has an entire map of your pretty pussy printed in his head. His fingers move in a blur as they pump themselves inside you, hitting all the right places that have you seeing stars. Each curl of his fingers sends your pussy fluttering and clenching down around him.

“Squeeze me tight, honey, ngh c’mon! Don’t think about a thing, just focus on being my pretty baby. My good girl.”

His words send the last thoughts in your head flying out the window, reducing you to nothing but his perfect little fuck toy. Your body relaxes without having to worry about a thing, allowing the ecstasy to overwhelm you.

IT Robot chuckles again as that fucked out expression fills your features. He flattens his palm so that it rubs hard against your clit with every snap of his fingers. With a few quick movements it has you falling over the edge and exploding all over his hand. Your vision flashes white as your orgasm rolls through you and you can’t find the strength to move any of your limbs after.

But that’s alright, IT Robot will take care of you, his fingers slipping out of your pulsing cunt with a pop, and giving your temple a soft kiss. He doesn’t bother cleaning up his hand dripping with your cum as he starts typing on your computer, solving the issue with the program you were using, and successfully helping you with both your aches.

“There, there. I’ve got you, pretty. Just keep feelin’ good. All because of me,” he whispers in your ear. Planning to spend the rest of the day doing all your work for you.

[bruhstories]

Bet III

p.1 here & p.2 here

summary: the game is on, but in-ho can't focus on it. he's got you on his mind pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, mentions of domestic violence, veeeery slow burn, reader is an orphan, slight voyeurism, people dying ayy yo (but if you watched squid game, this is just normal) w/c: 2.2k

a/n: if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! also feel free to replace y/n's age, i just needed to put a number there lol

In-ho removed the intricately designed mask from his face and poured himself a glass of whisky, one leg crossed over the other as he sat on the leather sofa of the control room. The first game was about to begin soon — always Red Light, Green Light — and he waited for his favourite song to start — always Fly Me To The Moon. There was something so hauntingly beautiful about listening to a love song while people lost all hope, one by one falling to the ground.

It was a fantastic way to get rid of the weakest links, leaving only those resilient alive. Player 101, eliminated. Player 82, eliminated. Player 329, eliminated. Player 2, eliminated. They dropped like flies, frantically clawing at the gates in a futile attempt to escape while the soldiers shot them from above, painting the ground crimson.

Exhilarating was the only word that could describe what In-ho felt in that moment, and nothing compared to it. When happiness died along with his wife, control was the only thing that fulfilled him. He controlled who died and who lived, but he was also being fair — if participants played by the rules, they survived. It couldn’t get any simpler than that.

Obviously, they didn't have a choice, and In-ho knew that well enough. No, players only had the illusion of choice, but that mirage was what kept them in the game. Besides, they chose to come to the island. They chose to gamble their lives. They chose to be greedy. If anything, the games taught them, albeit for a short time, that actions had consequences, and In-ho was their judge, jury and executioner. It was truly thrilling. Exciting. Exhilarating.

His phone lit up with a notification from the security cameras concealed in his house. Irked by the sudden disturbance, he opened the app to check the footage. You weren't supposed to be there at that time, because you had already been at his house in the morning. In-ho watched you lock the door behind you, thinking today was the day you stole from him and proved him right.  He scoffed, hoping you would last longer than one day, but to his surprise, you sat on the kitchen floor, knees to your chest, crying. 

He couldn't send you a text — it would have made it obvious that he knew you were there, and his eyes lingered on his phone, forgetting about the game in front of him for a moment. In-ho watched you take out your phone and type, and not a minute later he received a text.

Good morning again! I had a bit of free time after my second job today and came to check on Eunjoo. I'll be leaving in an hour for my other job and I'm not charging for the extra visit.

In-ho stared at the big screen, completely dumbfounded and ignorant to the people dying right before his eyes. How were you working that many jobs? That was, if you were even telling the truth. But he would find out soon, because he left a stack of 2 million won on his nightstand, eagerly waiting for you to take it. You had to take it. You had to be the same as everyone else.

That's absolutely fine. If you don't mind me asking, how many jobs are you working?

He swapped back to the security cameras and watched you wipe the tears off your face with the back of your hand, smiling at his text. Did he say something funny? Why on Earth would you be smiling when a minute ago you had tears rolling down your cheeks?

Officially two, unofficially three. I teach Korean to a family of immigrants, but that's unpaid. I think of it as volunteering. They do feed me, though! My other job is a mascot at Lotte World.

In-ho shattered the empty glass in his hand while reading your text, and winced when he felt blood seeping from a fresh cut. Why, just why did you have to prove him wrong? He watched you go into his bedroom with a pile of freshly clean and dried shirts, ignoring the money. You saw the stack, he noticed you staring at it, hoping you grabbed it, but you found his ironing board and began to iron his shirts, not sparing the money another glance.

Why?

Through the camera, he saw you text back.

Why what?

"Tsk." In-ho scoffed at your question while wrapping a bandage around his palm.

Why are you working that many jobs?

Ah. My uncle has debts. Unfortunately, I had to drop out from uni to help him pay for them. It's fine though, I like what I'm doing. 

How old are you?

23.

Jesus Christ, you were so young, yet life had been unfair to you. You deserved an education, a better life, and it cemented his ideal that the world needed to rid itself of the trash. He didn't know the full details, but he was sure to find out. You were unlike anyone he's met before. At least for now, at least until you proved him right.

Ding!

In-ho opened a picture from you — Eunjoo curling up on the left side of his bed, paws under her, looking like a loaf of bread, and the question 'Is that your side of the bed?' under it.

Indeed it is. 

I knew it! Aww, she misses you :( 

How strange it was to read those words. How strange it was to think about someone, or something missing him. To In-ho that was a foreign feeling, and he loosened his tie, swallowing the lump in his throat. He'd seen Eunjoo sleep on his side of the bed before, when he was gone, but he assumed it was just comfortable for her. 

Animals truly were better than humans. If they betrayed their owners, they did it out of necessity. When humans betrayed, it was by choice. 

In-ho watched you neatly adjust his ironed shirt on a coat hanger that you hung in his wardrobe, disregarding the Red Light, Green Light game that had long finished, and it hit him like a train that you reminded him of his wife. God, you were so much like his wife it infuriated him, because no one was allowed to take that place in his heart. No one was allowed to make him feel anything other than hatred.

You had to make a mistake, to prove to him that you were just like everybody else, and if money didn't make you crack, something else would. In-ho made it his purpose to unravel your darkest secrets, whether through manipulation or sheer force, but the distance between the two of you proved a greater obstacle than he thought. 

He watched you finish ironing his clothes, watched you refill Eunjoo's water bowl, watched you comb your hair and put lip balm on while staring into his mirror, and it felt so wrong to study all your quirks and habits without you even knowing. It was the closest thing to having a normal life. But nothing about what he was doing was normal. Especially not watching you be so oblivious to his true self.

With a sigh, In-ho adjusted his mask left the control room to instruct his subordinates, the square-masked guards, to prepare  for the next game, Neolttwigi, the soldiers to take the remaining players back to their beds, and the workers to remove the corpses. 188 players survived and more than 50% were eliminated. In-ho, in his Front Man persona, should've focused on the games, but he couldn't, for some unknown reason, shake off the image of you crying on his kitchen floor. He didn’t dare ask what happened. How could he? It would destroy all the secrecy.

It wasn't that he cared about you — he didn't. You appeared to be a positive, cheerful and talkative person, so whatever hurt your feelings must have been important. Was it your uncle? Your boyfriend? He scoffed at that thought. The mere idea of some guy breaking your heart made him irrationally angry, and In-ho was lucky that his mask concealed his frustration. 

He decided to pay the remaining players a visit, accompanied by eight armed guards, and, just like last year, and the year before, and the year before that, there was always a woman who dropped to her knees, begging to be spared and allowed to go home. Another one followed, and even men asked for forgiveness, but they just couldn't get it through their thick skulls that they chose to be there. They chose to gamble their lives away, they chose to borrow money and end up with debts they could never afford to repay. No one forced them to play the games.

When the room was filled with echoing cries and hysterical sobs, In-ho fired a single shot in the air, shutting everyone up. They all looked at him with fear in their eyes like pigs in a slaughterhouse waiting to be gutted, and he lowered the gun, standing firm on his feet.

"You must be mistaken. You are not here to be punished, you are all here because of the choices you made." In-ho simply said, his voice distorted by the mask. 

He took notice of teams already being formed, of those who were willing to step on corpses just to get the big prize and those who would rather sacrifice themselves, because there were always people who wanted to play the hero. He studied them all before they got recruited, and knew 456 secrets, 456 names, 456 lives. Well, only 188 survived.

"We came here to win money, not to fucking die!" Player 072 shouted from the back of the room. "And if I'm correct, we can vote to go back home."

Ah, yet another one who thought they could outsmart In-ho. He's been there before. He walked that path before, and it taught him that people don't change. Ever. Even if they voted to leave, they always came back.

"Of course, clause three of the consent form. If the majority decides to go home, you are free to do so. We don't hold anyone against their will." In-ho nodded. "But before you make your choice, allow me to tell you the current accumulated prize."

He pressed a button on a small, black remote and a large glass piggy bank was lowered from the ceiling as the lights in the room dimmed down. Stacks upon stacks of money piled up in the piggy bank, and the screen counted the current prize — 26.8 billion won. In-ho watched how their faces lit up at the amount of money accumulated, but also how the penny dropped for most of them — the more people died, the more money the survivors got.

"If you choose to leave, the money will be distributed amongst the deceased players' families. It’s only fair." He said, and left the room so that the soldiers could prepare for the democratic vote.

"You're manipulating us!" In-ho heard a player shout, and maybe he did. Maybe he was chipping away at their humanity to bring out the worst in them, but it was for the best. At least by dying they served a purpose.

It was no surprise that the majority voted to stay, 95 to 93. Good — he didn't have to go through the trouble of sending them home. The soldiers and workers brought food for the players, and In-ho checked his phone in the safety of his room. There was no text from you, and it was almost time for you to check on Eunjoo, but when it hit 9 and you weren't in his house, he felt a knot in his stomach, an uneasy feeling. Was he worried? Of course he was, for his cat, not for you.

Ding!

The sound of his phone caught him off guard, almost startling him, almost making him feel relieved when he saw it was you, and In-ho read the text.

Evening! Traffic was baaad this evening but I'm nearly at the penthouse. Will Eunjoo ever forgive me? :( 

The stupid sad face you sent made the image of you pouting pop up in his head and he wondered why. There wasn't a good enough reason for you to be haunting him like a phantom. You were a nobody to him.

Eunjoo might, but I won't.

In-ho immediately regretted pressing send. It was unprofessional and stupid of him to text such a reply, because you weren't friends. He had no friends. 

I'm so sorry, but I promise I'll make it up to you, Mr. Hwang! I really need to get you a gift for letting me use your shower anyway.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips when you didn't take his message the wrong way, but part of him was hoping you would try to flirt with him, seduce him, do anything to prove him right. And yet again, you remained true to yourself.

He watched you on the cameras again, how you invaded his home, his life, how you fed Eunjoo and munched on prawn crackers again, disappointed that you, for the second day in a row, refused to use anything in his house for yourself except for the shower and the TV.

There was still time to win the bet, and he never lost.

tagging: @ri1liane @anmert1 @syraxnyra @frshluvcats @lanyia @mettreads @nightdark-dreamdark @bridge-always @lovekm @audrey223 @ririgy @starkeyszn @hobiesbrownsgf @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @tenzko @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm

please keep in mind that if i didn't tag you it's because i either missed it, or i couldn't find your age on your blog. there will be smut.

[sunni-stuff]

People are judgmental. Some think they aren't, others don't mean to be, and then there are those who do it on purpose and simply don't care.

Parents are guilty of this.

Parents who pay you to teach their kids do this.

But the worst offenders?

Wives. 

Particularly those with too much free time—gossiping Gertrude's who'd rather nitpick and judge than deal with the boredom of daytime TV and their kids screaming in the background. You’ve dealt with a handful before—a crack in the system that always rippled right under your skin whenever one of those vultures threw out a backhanded compliment.  

“You’re so patient with the kids. I could never do what you do—how do you even manage?”  

“Must be nice having all that time off during the summer. A little vacation every year, huh?”  

“Teaching must be so rewarding. Though I imagine it’s not really about the money, is it?”  

Each one, a subtle dig disguised as flattery, like they couldn’t help but twist the knife just a little deeper. 

If there was one thing you’d learned about this job, it was to always kill them with kindness. The rumor mill among parents was ruthless, and the wrong rumor could ripple out and jeopardize your career. So, you’d mastered the art of the polite smile, the well-timed thank you, and the effortless small talk. It was a strategy that had served you well, keeping any overly curious mothers at bay.

Still, these women were relentless. They circled like hawks, always looking for an opening to pry into your life or make veiled comments about your parenting. You’d never given them the satisfaction of slipping up—until the day you almost did.

The sun was setting, the air brisk and tinged with the promise of winter as parents gathered their children. Little voices chattered away as teachers handed over day charts, neatly summarizing each child’s activities. Standing at the cubbies, you were bundling up Adira. Her small frame was snug in her sweater, jacket zipped up to her chin, and scarf tucked securely around her neck. She fidgeted as you worked, barely able to stay still with how much excitement bubbled in her tiny frame.

Her voice was high-pitched and animated as she launched into a story, her words tumbling over each other in her eagerness to share. “Messy man said, we play trains when he comes back!” she chirped, her dark eyes wide with delight.

You paused, your fingers lingering on the last button of her jacket. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you straightened her scarf. “Oh, did he now?”

Adira nodded vigorously, her curls bouncing. “Yep! He said, “Adira, we make the best train track ever!” Her imitation of Simon’s deep voice was laughably exaggerated, and you couldn’t help but chuckle.” We gonna play with the biiig track!” She spread her arms wide for emphasis, nearly toppling over from the effort.

The mention of Simon was enough to draw some attention from the other parents nearby. You could feel their eyes darting your way, their curiosity almost palpable. Simon’s occasional appearances to pick up Adira hadn’t gone unnoticed, and the whispers had already started. Who was this tall, broad man with a thick accent? Was he Adira’s father? A boyfriend? The air was thick with silent speculation.

Ignoring the countless eyes and ears listening in on your harmless conversation, you assured Adira. “Well, if messy man promised, he’ll keep it,” Simon had made it clear that he intended to be a constant presence in Adira’s life, and so far, he’d stuck to his word.

As you stood and picked up her small bag, a sharp voice interrupted the moment.

"Well, aren’t you just the picture-perfect little family?”

Your polite smile returned instantly, masking the irritation that flared at the condescending tone. Turning, you saw one of the daycare moms—Linda, if you remembered correctly—standing there with her perfectly manicured nails wrapped around her designer purse. Her son trailed behind her, nose buried in a tablet.

“Evening, Linda,” you said evenly, keeping your tone light. “How’s Ethan doing?

She waved a dismissive hand, her eyes already scanning Adira with that overly curious gaze that made your skin crawl. “Oh, he’s fine. But I couldn’t help overhearing... this ‘Messy man’ your little one mentioned. Is he... new in your life?”

Ah, there it was—the opening she was fishing for. 

Adira, oblivious to the undercurrents of adult conversation, grinned up at Linda uncharacteristically, the joy she felt for Simon completely expunging her normal glaring behavior. “Messy man makes pancakes! But they go splat!” She threw her hands out dramatically, mimicking the chaos Simon often caused in the kitchen.

Goddammit, poor Adira revealed too much to the wrong person, and you could already see the cogs turning in Linda's head. Forcing a chuckle, you reached for Adira’s hand. “Messy man is her nickname for Simon, her dad. He’s stationed overseas, so she gets pretty excited when he’s home.”

Linda’s perfectly arched eyebrow lifted slightly, clearly surprised. “Oh, I see. Military man, huh? I suppose that explains why we’ve never seen him around.”

You gave Linda your most neutral expression, taking notice of the other moms matching from behind her. “He’s been busy, but he’s doing his best to be here when he can.”

"Oh, I see. I simply would've never guessed you were married. You never wear a ring," Linda remarked, her tone dripping with subtle judgment.

You knew what she was doing. It was a carefully laid trap, baited to catch you in a corner. If you rebuffed her comment, if you made a scene, it would only give her more ammunition to spread rumors. These women didn’t care for nuances; they thrived on gossip, and the topic of marriage—or rather, the lack of a visible wedding ring—would be a field day for them. They’d ride that horse straight to hell, and you'd be left cleaning up the mess.

With the growing number of parents in earshot, you understood that this wasn’t just a comment; it was a test. You had to choose your words carefully. It wasn’t just about keeping things smooth in the moment—it was about protecting your future.

You gave a small, practiced smile, maintaining your composure as you slipped Adira’s bag onto your shoulder. “I don’t wear my ring because I work with children. It could get caught in their hair, or worse, I could lose it.” You met her gaze with a calm confidence that bordered on dismissive.

“That’s understandable, dear. We all have kids after all!” Lina laughed, her tone attempting to sound warm and genuine, but it was too polished, too forced. The laughter rang hollow, like a poorly executed attempt to mask her true intentions. “Does this mean we’ll finally get to meet him at the fundraiser this weekend? We’ve all been here for so long, and not a single glimpse of your beloved other half. Right, ladies?”

Her words floated in the air, sharp with insinuation. The smile she wore was one of practiced sweetness, but the glint in her eyes was anything but kind. She knew what she was doing—attempting to pull you further into her web, hoping to get a reaction that would either reveal more or, better yet, give her ammunition to fuel the rumors she clearly wanted to start.

A few of the other women murmured in agreement, their eyes flicking from you to each other, already whispering amongst themselves. They were all waiting for a response, and the pressure began to build in the pit of your stomach.

“Yes, he is.” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could even process them, your own response surprising you as much as it did the group of wives surrounding you. You felt a jolt in your chest, your heart picking up pace as the reality of what you had just said began to sink in. What the fuck did you just do?

The laughter from Linda faltered for a split second, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed your words. The others exchanged glances, some of their faces lighting up with an almost predatory curiosity, while others masked their thoughts behind polite smiles. You could almost hear the gears turning in their heads—oh, this was going to be something they could use.

The tension in the air thickened, and you suddenly felt exposed, as if every secret you’d carefully kept tucked away was now dangling on the edge of a cliff. You’d just handed them the perfect piece of gossip, but what would it lead to? Would they use it against you, twist it into something worse? You hadn’t planned for any of this—hell, you hadn't even planned on saying anything at all—but now that it was out there, you had to somehow steer this conversation. 

You had to control the narrative, or risk letting it spiral completely out of your hands. 

Your mind races, trying to formulate a response, but everything seems so loud—your thoughts, the laughter, the eyes watching you. How could you backpedal without it seeming like a lie? How could you walk that fine line between the truth and keeping your personal life hidden?

"Yes, Simon’s coming," you added quickly, trying to steady your breath. "But, you know... he’s not really into the whole fundraiser thing. He’s more of a stay-at-home guy, a bit of a quiet one, really. I’ll be there though, and we’re looking forward to it." You tried to sound casual, but the flicker of doubt in your voice betrayed you. 

The women around you didn’t miss a beat, though. The moment had been set, and now it was only a matter of what they would do with the information. 

“Well, I look forward to seeing you.” Lina’s voice was dripping with a false sweetness, and you could feel the weight of her gaze as she gave you one last look. Her eyes lingered a bit longer than necessary, as if trying to peel back layers, searching for some crack to exploit. Then, with a nod, she steered Ethan away, her entourage of women following closely behind, their chatter rising in the air like a distant murmur. The click of their heels echoed as they disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, frozen in place.

"And so, that's what happened," you finished, your voice trailing off as you leaned against the kitchen counter, trying to gauge Simon's reaction.

Simon blinked up at you from where he was sitting on the floor, his focus still mostly on Adira, who was happily arranging her toy train with her blocks, making a makeshift kingdom. He didn’t seem phased, just a little confused. "You want me to pretend to be your husband?"

The question hung in the air for a moment before he let out a chuckle, shaking his head slightly, his eyes filled with that familiar warmth. "Out of all the things I've done in my life, this has to be the funniest, love.”

You blinked, momentarily thrown by the unexpected nickname. It felt oddly intimate, a shift in the dynamic between you and Simon that you hadn’t anticipated. Love. It wasn't what you'd expected to hear from him, not in this context, not when everything felt so messy and uncertain. But there it was, slipping out so naturally from him, like he'd always called you that, like he'd been in your life much longer than he really had.

Your heart skipped a beat, the sound of Adira’s laughter in the background making the moment feel surreal. It should have been funny—this whole situation, with you essentially asking Simon to pretend to be your husband for the sake of those gossiping women. But instead, you felt something else, something soft and unfamiliar tightening in your chest.

“Did you just call me that?” You couldn't help but ask, your voice a little quieter than you intended.

Simon paused, his playful smile faltering for a second as he caught the look on your face. “I—yeah, I guess I did,” he replied, his tone a touch more uncertain now. He glanced down at Adira, who was happily stacking blocks at his feet, then back to you. “It was just a slip of the tongue. Didn’t mean anything weird by it.”

“I’m not exactly husband material, you know,” he added lightly, his voice teasing. “I’m more of a... messy man.”

You chuckled at that, shaking your head. "A messy man, huh?"

He nodded, grinning. “Yeah, but I’m good at it. Just ask Adira.”

Adira, hearing her name, immediately let out a squeal of approval. “Messy man!” she giggled, throwing a block in Simon’s direction, her tiny hand pointing at him with delight.

"So, what's the plan here then?" That easy grin back on his face, his eyes still dancing with humor, but there was something underneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. “You want me to just walk into a room and act like we’re a picture-perfect couple?”

The way he said it made you laugh a little, though there was a slight edge of uncertainty to it. You found yourself shifting uncomfortably, knowing you had no real plan for what came next. It wasn’t like you had a relationship with Simon beyond the occasional dinner and time spent with Adira, and yet, here you were, asking him to play a role in your life, one that might end up blurring lines you didn’t fully understand.

“Well, you don’t have to pretend, exactly,” you said, running a hand through your hair, suddenly feeling all the weight of the day settling in. “I just... I just need you to be there. You know, to back me up, to—” You paused, glancing over at Simon again. “I guess I just don’t want them thinking I’m alone in all of this. It’s bad enough that has already started.”

Simon’s gaze softened as he leaned back in his seat, watching you with a quiet understanding. "You're not alone in this," he said, his voice steady. “And I’m here. You don’t need a ring or a title for that.”

The sincerity in his tone made your chest tighten again, but this time it was different. His words weren’t a joke or a half-hearted attempt to make you feel better—they were real. He was offering something more than just pretending for the sake of others. He was offering his presence, his support.

For a moment, you forgot about everything else. The plans, the expectations, the pressure. Instead, all that mattered was Simon sitting across from you, smiling at you like you weren't asking for something too much, like it wasn’t strange to think of him in your life like this.

“Thank you,” you murmured. "Really."

He gave a small nod, then grinned, shifting his attention back to Adira, who had managed to get half the blocks stacked to an impressive height. “It’s nothing. Besides, I think Adira’s got the best part of this deal anyway.”

You glanced over at your daughter, who was watching both of you with wide eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. Adira was your source of strength, a beacon that pushed you forward, her smile alone gave you determination.  “Alright, let’s figure out what married people do.”

"I know just who to call." Simon reached for his phone, the battered thing covered in scratches, an old case and sporting a broken screen from a hazardous drop. Upon seeing it, the first thought running through your head was, how the fuck was it still usable?

Price’s living room radiated warmth and history, a perfect mix of domestic coziness and military precision. The centerpiece was a sturdy stone fireplace, its mantle adorned with framed photos of Price and his wife, Melanie. In some, they stood arm in arm at scenic locations; in others, Price was in uniform, the edges of his cap sharp against the backdrop of distant skies. Above the fireplace hung a shadow box displaying medals and insignias, each one polished to a shine, speaking volumes about his service.

Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with everything from military strategy texts to well-worn novels. On one shelf sat a small globe and a model of a Spitfire plane, a nod to his admiration for history. A comfortable, overstuffed armchair, complete with a folded tartan blanket, sat near the fire. The coffee table bore faint scratches, evidence of years of use, and atop it lay an open newspaper, a mug of tea, and a small dish of biscuits.

You sat stiffly on the plush sofa, feeling distinctly out of place amidst this blend of home and honor. The ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner filled the silence as you watched Simon talk to Price in the adjoining kitchen. Occasionally, their eyes flicked toward you, and you pretended not to notice, your gaze wandering instead to a black-and-white photo of a younger Price standing with a group of soldiers, all grinning ear to ear.

The awkwardness of the situation weighed on you like a heavy blanket. This wasn’t exactly how you envisioned your day—asking Price, of all people, to help stage your fake relationship. But you were in too deep now to back out.

In the kitchen, Price rubbed his hand over his mouth, barely concealing the grin that tugged at his lips. A low chuckle escaped as he grabbed a cup of coffee, shaking his head at Simon, who stood across from him, arms folded, his expression far more serious than the moment warranted.

“You want me and Mel to help you two seem like a couple? That right?” Price’s voice carried an unmistakable note of amusement, his words tinged with disbelief.

Simon shifted his weight, rolling his shoulders back, clearly trying to maintain some semblance of dignity. "Yes, that’s the gist of it."

Price’s laughter broke free, a warm, hearty sound that echoed off the kitchen tiles. “Bloody hell, Simon. You’ve seen action all over the world, but this—this is what’s got you nervous?” He clapped a hand on Simon’s shoulder, his grin wide enough to light the room. “You’re in for a treat, mate. Melanie’s going to love this.”

From your seat, you caught Price’s amused glance, and you couldn’t help the way your face heated. This was going to be a long evening.

Price, still chuckling, crossed the room to the wide bay window, pushing it open with ease. The crisp evening air drifted in, carrying with it the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint hum of distant crickets. He leaned out slightly, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Mel! Come on inside, love. You’ve got to hear this one,” he called, his voice carrying easily over the quiet of their backyard.

From where you sat, you caught a glimpse of Melanie in the garden. She was tending to a neat row of vibrant flowers, her hands gloved and a straw hat perched on her head. At the sound of Price’s voice, she straightened up, brushing dirt off her knees with a curious look on her face.

“Be right there!” she replied, her voice warm and lilting. She removed her gloves, tucking them into her apron pocket as she began making her way toward the house.

Price turned back to Simon, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You better hope Mel doesn’t laugh you out of the house, mate.”

Simon groaned softly, rubbing his temples. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Price.”

Moments later, Melanie stepped into the living room, a radiant smile lighting up her face. She was the epitome of grace, her presence immediately softening the room’s atmosphere. Her gaze shifted between you, Simon, and her husband, her curiosity evident.

“What’s all this about, then?” she asked, removing her hat and setting it on a nearby chair. “You’ve got that mischievous look again, John.”

Price grinned, gesturing toward you and Simon. “These two need a favor, Mel. A big one.”

Melanie’s brows lifted as she looked between the two of you. “Oh? Do tell.”

Simon, looking equal parts determined and mortified, cleared his throat. “We... need help convincing a group of nosy parents that we’re married. Long story.”

Melanie’s smile widened as her eyes twinkled with amusement. “Oh, this sounds rich. Go on, I’m listening.”

You shifted in your seat, feeling the warmth of Melanie’s gaze settle on you. Her smile was kind but tinged with unmistakable amusement, and it was clear she was holding back a laugh as she took in your flustered state.

“Well,” you began hesitantly, clasping your hands together in your lap. “It’s a bit of a mess, really. One of the moms at the daycare cornered me, started asking questions about Simon, and… I might’ve let it slip that we’re married. Which we’re not. Obviously.” Your words tumbled out in a rush, and you glanced at Simon for backup. He was rubbing the back of his neck, caught between exasperation and amusement.

Melanie let out a soft laugh and gracefully sat down beside you on the couch. “Ah, I see. And now you need to sell the story before it falls apart. Oh, love, I’ve been in a similar pickle—not quite like this, but close enough.”

“See?” Price chimed in from his armchair, leaning back with an amused grin. “Told you Mel would get a kick out of this.”

Simon shot him a flat look. “Not exactly the reaction I was hoping for, mate.”

Melanie waved a dismissive hand at Price before patting your knee in a reassuring gesture. “Don’t mind him. Now, let’s think this through. If you’re going to convince anyone, you need to act the part. People pick up on the smallest details—how you talk to each other, how comfortable you seem together. If you’re too stiff, they’ll see right through it.”

Simon leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he nodded. “Alright, so what do we need to do? We’ve got about a week before the fundraiser, so I’m open to ideas.”

Melanie’s eyes lit up with a mix of mischief and determination. “Perfect. We’ll start with body language—how you interact without saying a word. And then we’ll move on to the conversational stuff. You’ll need to know each other’s habits, quirks, and all those little details married couples just know.”

Price clapped his hands together with mock enthusiasm, a cheeky grin plastered across his face. “Right, then. Let the awkward training sessions begin. This’ll be one for the books.”

You groaned inwardly, glancing between Simon and Melanie. This bizarre charade was only just beginning, and while you couldn’t imagine where it would lead, one thing was clear—you were in for a wild ride.

Happy new years friends! The holidays were a riot and I spent most of it spending time with family instead of writing as I felt kind of burnt out from writing in November, sorry about that but I hope this makes up for it.

-

@midnight-blue-moon-princess @pipedream411 @frogofrg @loonagabs @ghostlythots @vixenshiftsvrs @devoetee @shorty-tolentino @aethelwyneleigh27 @ayesha-eroticax3 @emilia527 @danielle143 @maniacalbooper @awildewit @gifted-aurora @teenagellamaangel @julesjunimos @tacticalgirlboss @midnights-song @suzuki-18 @t3a-bag @latencygirl @krispymagazinepizza-blog @harperdoodle @odettecigno @sockertop @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovelystarfish @my-little-evil-blog @imastorytelleritsondvd @l1lpip @cringeycookies @identity2212 @balletbiscuit @mulletmcghee @maciswack @littleracco0n @oliver-1270 @weemansoap @cryingpages @connorsui @beebeechaos @gluttonybiscuits @strawberrygato @sozainturpal @echo9821 @blinca @illusionistlover @blubearxy @superficialfeelings @new-author3 @xanvasy @oniiloma @bankaixx @evie-199 @notsochillnerd @thatpersonnamedrook @hon3y-cloud @jaguarthecat @reinekoya @apixasflora @a-lovers-card @gloriousloveduck @aetherthetrashpanda @princess-vibes25 @vickykazuya @enfppuff @liliannamae @m0chac0ffee @flamehero-phoenix @bean-cream @realizemandi97 @almostdecadentstarfish @lunamoonbby

[callmeagardengnome]

✗ blood in the clouds ✗ | KIM HONGJOONG

pairings ✃ mafia leader! hongjoong x flight attendant! fem! reader

genre ✃ mafia au, non-idol au, SLOW BURNN

synopsis ✃

it’s finally your last day as a flight attendant. you wanted nothing more than to laze on your couch and watch netflix - just to find out that one of your passengers blew out the brains of your pilot with a gun.

in which hongjoong to hijack a plane that his rival’s daughter is on.

w.c ✃ 10.5k (yes im a yapper im sorry)

c.w ✃ dark themes, vivid descriptions of gore, guns and knives, kiss scene but no smut, use of the nickname ‘brat’, ‘pretty’ and ONE TIME - ‘princess’, your dad’s a dick oops, vulgar language, reader is smart

author’s note: this is the first oneshot of my mafia series! yes it is long but i promise you that it does eat and that you’ll enjoy it. remember to reblog and comment if you enjoyed, any and all feedback helps!

not proofread!

masterlist

white clouds drifted by the airplane window as the sky turned from a soft blue to a deep orange.

it would’ve been a pretty sight if it weren’t for the gun to your head.

you’d called in sick or put in your two weeks notice earlier if this was how your last day of being a flight attendant would end - but apparently, life hates you too much to let you catch a break.

HOUR 1 OF 7 - TAKEOFF

‘god- i can’t take this anymore,’ you thought to yourself. you hated waiting, despised it actually. 

after today, no more jet lag, rushed goodbyes or missing celebrations. you can finally unpack that suitcase for good, find someplace quiet and actually live in it. the thought alone was enough to keep you excited, but something bothered you at the back of your mind.

this trip didn’t feel right.

it wasn’t the plane itself, but your passengers? only 2 showed up in a plane that could seat at least 50 people. 

not that you were complaining. fewer passengers meant less work - which was a good thing. 

but the uneasiness you felt kept rising in your chest, no matter the times you tried to push it down. 

‘just 6 more hours,’ you thought. ‘then this will all be behind me.’

HOUR 2 OF 7 - MEALTIME

meal service started like any other: boring. 

after handing out the trays, you pushed the trolley back to its place and returned with beverages. you plastered on your most professional smile as you walked over to your passengers. “would you like a drink?”

the man in sunglasses turned to you lazily, his eyes shifting from the trolley to your face. “what do you have?”

you sighed, quietly but deeply. you had that stupid list engraved into your mind by now. “water, coffee, tea, coke, spri-” 

“-do you have alcohol?” he cut you off. 

your eye twitched. this dickhead.

first of all, he interrupted you. and secondly, you didn’t mention the alcohol on purpose. it was stored at the back of the plane and you did not have the energy to drag it out. 

“uh hongjoong- i mean, boss-“ the guy next to him whispered hurriedly. “i don’t think that’s a good idea-“

“-i think it is,” hongjoong interrupted before turning back to you. “where’s the menu?”

you gave him a forced smile as you pushed the alcohol menu towards him. he took his time with it, flipping through the pages slowly before finally saying, “two shots of whiskey.”

“sure thing,” you snatched the menu back. with a swift turn, you fetched the whiskey and the glasses, returning back to his seat.

you poured and placed the two shots on his tray table. he took the glass and drank it in one go, setting it back down with a thud. 

hongjoong then turned his head towards you, eyebrows raised. “what?”

you blinked. ‘what’? just ‘what’? where's the ‘thank you’? 

you were losing your mind.

“nothing,” you muttered through clenched teeth, moving away before he could ask for anything else.

grade A asshole.

HOUR 4.5 OF 7 - POINT OF NO RETURN

the shitty in-flight wifi was a joke as always. why did you even try?

with an annoyed sigh, you shoved your phone into your back pocket when suddenly-

static.

its piercing sound followed by faint garbled voices on the intercom startled you. you frowned as the sound continued, getting louder and more distorted.

with a groan, you stood up, straightening your uniform. ‘what are they doing?’ you thought as you walked towards the cockpit.

but when you passed by the first-class cabin, you paused. the seats were empty. both passengers were gone. ‘weird…’

things only got weirder as you approached the unlocked cockpit door. 

concerned, you pushed it open.

the smell hit you first - a metallic tang that twisted your stomach.

then your eyes caught up.

blood splattered the walls and windows in chaotic streaks, dripping down to the controls and the carpeted floor. the pilot and co-pilot laid in a gruesome pile to the side, the jagged holes in their skulls grotesque. 

a guy sat at the controls, steering the plane as though he wasn’t surrounded by horrors. 

grade A asshole- no, hongjoong, sat cross-legged on the floor, his sunglasses shattered at his feet. a gun rested in his hand and his lips curled into a smirk as he watched you enter.

“you’ve got to be kidding me..” you breathed out. 

pieces of brain and organ matter clung to the control panel as a simple blinking green light above that indicated that everything was, somehow, still functioning.

hongjoong tilted his head, amused. the gun shifted to point at what you now noticed was the crumpled bodies  of your pilots, their faces mangled in unrecognisable masses of flesh and bone.

“these your friends?”

you shook your head as you stepped back, wiping your sweaty hands on your uniform. hongjoong seemed to enjoy your reaction, his grin widening into something sickening. 

he smirked. “don’t worry, i won’t spoil that pretty face of yours.”

you coughed at the wretched smell as the crimson-stained carpet squelched beneath your heels, your mind begging you to leave.

“well-” you said, turning to the door. “i’m sure you don’t need me here, i’ll just-”

an audible click cut you off.

you froze.

slowly, you turned back to see a gun aimed directly at you.

“leaving so soon?” he raised an eyebrow. “let’s talk.”

HOUR 5 OF 7 - SKYDIVING DOESN’T SEEM TOO BAD

hongjoong dragged you to the first-class section to ‘talk’. it was the first time you’ve ever sat there and to be completely honest, this was not how you imagined yourself ‘enjoying’ it.

well, not like it mattered. you had other issues - like handcuffs locking you to the chair.

he stood infront of you, one hand gripping the gun while the other held a file. “‘____’, am i right?” he asked. 

you nodded slowly. “..that’s me.”

“3.6 GPA in university..” he muttered. “flunked out of med school during your first year..”

..how the hell did he get that information?

“you ended up as a flight attendant because your father owns the airline.”

“..yeah,” you reluctantly admitted, your stomach churning. “uh- was the med school part necessary?”

hongjoong ignored you, flipping to the next page. you watched his eyebrows shoot up as his eyes narrowed. “how close are you with your father?”

you blinked, confused by the weird question. “i mean- he’s my dad,” you replied. “but i haven’t seen him in years.”

“hm,” the sound came from him. hongjoong studied you for a moment longer before he spoke again, but this time, his voice was cold.

“do you know what he’s been doing during those years?”

your brows furrowed. “no, i-”

“killing. my. men.”

you didn’t even have time to process his words because he leaned forward when he said them, the gun uncomfortably close to your face. 

you swallowed the lump in your throat. “...are you sure you have the right person?”

his smirk widened into something eerie. “i have a gun pointed to you, don’t i?”

your pulse quickened. you couldn’t decide which was worse: the possibility that he was telling the truth or the fact that he was clearly enjoying your reaction.

“i always wanted to get back at that pig..” he held the gun up to the bottom of your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “and look at how kind the world is- blessing me with his daughter.”

you struggled to breathe, to think. the handcuffs dug into your wrist as you unconsciously tried to break out of them, a clink against the metal arm of the chair.

your voice trembled. “..what do you want from me?”

hongjoong didn’t answer immediately. instead, he leaned in even closer, so close that you could feel your foreheads touching.

“what i want,” he said slowly, eyes locked onto yours. “is for your dad to suffer.”

HOUR 6 OF 7 - SURPRISINGLY ALIVE

the stuffiness of the plane did little to calm your nerves. you sat quietly in the seat, staring at the shattered remains of your phone on the floor.

hongjoong snatched it from your hands a few minutes ago, grumbling about how ‘you don’t need devices’. great. just great. 

the sound of the cockpit door creaking open drew your attention. the other guy - or ‘pilot’, stepped out, adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves. “boss.”

hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “what?”

the ‘pilot’ moved closer to hongjoong, lowering his voice. “air traffic control was notified of our path,” he said quietly. “they know something’s off about the plane, but i have no idea how.”

hongjoong’s eyes darkened as he processed the information. then, he glared at you, like he was accusing you.

you scoffed. “you shot my phone, how would i even contact anyone?”

for a moment, the two of you locked eyes and you swear that you could see him debating whether to believe you.

the ‘pilot’ cleared his throat. “what should we expect?” he asked nervously.

hongjoong leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. “the police.”

HOUR 7 OF 7 - SHIT IS GETTING REAL

“what the hell…” you whispered to yourself as you peered out of the window.

SWAT teams and federal agents stood in rows, their weapons pointed directly at the plane. flashing lights of red and blue lit up the empty airport. 

you turned away from the window, watching hongjoong pull out a burner phone from his jacket. his fingers typed something out before he suddenly snapped the phone in half, tossing the remains on the floor. 

“…who are you?” you asked quietly.

he raised an eyebrow. “you don’t need to know, pretty.”

your survival instincts told you to move, to do something. but the second you tried to stand, hongjoong shoved you back down. 

“stay seated until we land,” he said before tilting his head. “isn’t that your job?”

you rolled your eyes, gripping the armrests as you tried to calm yourself down and steady your breathing. 

but that was when you heard it - gunshots. 

“they’re shooting us?” you panicked, flinching with each sound. 

no answer.

“hey-“ you tried again, but was cut off by the tires hitting the terrain. 

the landing was rough - harsher than anything you’ve experienced as a flight attendant. the plane rattled like never before.

your chest tightened when it rolled over something particularly large. “what was that?” your voice cracked. 

no answer. 

when the plane finally came to a halt, you barely had time to catch your breath when hongjoong moved. in a blink, he uncuffed you from the chair, only to secure the handcuffs on your wrists once more. 

he brought you to your feet, pulling you so close that you could feel his breath against your ear. “don’t do anything stupid,” he hissed. 

the cockpit door opened and the ‘pilot’ appeared. he quickly unlocked the emergency exit and you saw the makeshift ramp that had been attached to the side of the plane. 

a van rested just outside of it, hongjoong dragging you towards the vehicle. you descended the ramp, the cool air hitting your face as you looked around. 

but that was when you saw it. 

blood. 

on the wheels of the plane, the dark colour leaving a fresh trail on the ground.  

“did you..” you gulped, your voice barely above a whisper. “did you run over them?”

hongjoong glanced at you. “i didn’t,” he shrugged. “the plane did.”

you stopped in your tracks, your feet stuck rooted to the ground as you stared at him in horror. how could he say that like it was no big deal? just who was this man?

“move,” hongjoong ordered. but when you didn’t, he clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes. “god- you’re such a brat.”

before you knew it, you were shoved into the back of the van. the ‘pilot’ closed the door with a loud slam and sat in the driver’s seat while hongjoong took the passenger’s seat up front. 

you met hongjoong’s eyes through the rearview mirror. his glare was sharp, acting as a warning to keep your mouth shut. you didn’t need to be told twice.

the van drove forward and you caught glimpses of city lights in the distance, slowly growing closer. civilisation - maybe you could get help. 

but against your mind’s wishes, you felt your eyelids getting heavy - and you did something that no one should ever do when they’re in a car with armed strangers.

you fell asleep.

HOUR 14 OF 7 - HIP HIP HOORAY YOU’RE NOT DEAD

you heard a voice whine. “why can’t we kill her?” 

“do you want boss to kill us?” you heard another reply.

your eyes fluttered open. your head felt heavy as the room came into focus, your stomach twisting. 

the space was dingy, poorly lit by a bulb hanging from the ceiling and an unnecessarily tall lamp on the ground. the walls were stained and the air stunk of blood.

you tried to move, only to feel tight ropes against your wrists and ankles. you were tied to a chair.

“i can’t believe we have to babysit the pig’s daughter,” a man with a knife groaned.

“calm down, wooyoung,” the other one sighed.

“calm down?!” wooyoung exclaimed. “yeosang got to fly a plane! how is that fair?”

“he has a license,” the second man rolled his eyes. 

“it’s still a plane, jongho-”

“shut up,” jongho interrupted. “the girl’s awake.”

both men turned their heads to look at you, the sudden attention sending a shiver down your spine. wooyoung’s grin stretched across his face as he got to his feet, jongho following behind.

“aw look who’s finally awake,” wooyoung approached, his voice childish. “you slept like a baby- and we didn’t even drug you!”

your heartbeat quickened as he leaned in close, his grin widening as he studied your face.

“i read your file,” he began. “you’re smart…” wooyoung paused, his eyes inspecting you and your ridiculous uniform. “and hot.”

your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to respond. “thank you-?”

“-what’s your favourite feature about yourself?” he asked, twirling the knife in his hands.

“uh-” your mind scrambled for an answer as he got nearer, the knife glinting. “i- my eyes?”

“your eyes,” wooyoung repeated, the grin stuck to his face. “good choice.”

he brought the knife closer, the cold steel trailing down the side of your face. you flinched as the blade hovered near your eye, your breath hitching.

“you’re going to answer all our questions,” he stated, almost in a sing-songy way. “and if you dont-”

he tilted the knife, now directly above your eyeball. “-i’ll dig those lovely pearls out of your sockets.”

your chest tightened, terror paralyzing you from head to toe. you couldn’t even breathe, every cell in your body pleading you to stay still.

“hey-” jongho tapped wooyoung on the shoulder, whispering. “uh.. boss said we can’t scratch her..”

“are you serious?” wooyoung scoffed. “then what’s the point?”

jongho bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding eye contact with his friend.

wooyoung groaned, throwing the knife to the ground with a strength that made it bend. “fuck this- torture isn’t even fun anymore.”

he stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

silence was in the air until jongho cleared his throat awkwardly. he turned to face you. “uh..” he hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“change of plans.”

HOUR 15 OF 7 - DAY DRINKING IS FUN

you never imagined yourself in a hideout, drinking vodka with one of your captors - yet here you were. 

the whole thing felt absurd: a shaky barstool beneath you and a scuffed counter separating you and jongho. he poured you a shot he claimed was ‘very expensive’, before proceeding to chug most of the vodka from the bottle in a long gulp. 

your legs were untied now, though your wrists were still bound, the rope loose enough for your hands to rest infront of you. “what are we waiting for?” you asked. “hongjoong?”

jongho froze, his eyes snapping to yours. “don’t say his name,” he whisper-shouted.

you raised your tied wrists in apology. “okay.. what should i call him?”

“call him boss.. or mr kim.. or anything that isn’t his first name,” jongho said, his words rushed. 

you nodded slowly, looking at the man infront of you with mild concern. he looked even more scared than you did. 

then suddenly, the door slammed open. 

both you and jongho flinched, watching two figures stumble in. 

the first was a tall man - storming into the room. the second was him, hongjoong, clutching his side in pain.

“mingi- boss!” jongho panicked instantly as he ran to help the injured man. “holy- you’re hurt!”

“the pig called for backup,” mingi sighed heavily. 

you blinked, stunned as the sound of hongjoong coughing violently brought your attention back to the injured man. 

blood seeped through his fingers, staining his sleeves and skin. you don’t know what took over you, but you pushed yourself off of the barstool and rushed towards him. 

“what do you think you’re doing?” mingi stepped infront of hongjooong, his hand resting on his gun protectively. 

you glared at him. “do you want your boss to bleed out?”

mingi studied you. after what felt like ages, he exhaled sharply and stepped aside. “fine,” he muttered, keeping a hand on his weapon. 

you knelt next to hongjoong, trying to make him face you as you grabbed his arm. though, he snatched himself away from you quickly. 

you rolled your eyes. “i’m trying to help you. let me see it.”

hongjoong’s eyes pierced your soul. you could see the cogs in his head turning on whether he could trust you. 

a few moments passed before he finally faced you with a sigh, revealing a large gash on the side of his stomach - a wound created by knife. 

“i need water.” 

jongho blinked, clearly thrown off. “what?”

“to clean his wound..?” you explained. “get me water. now.”

jongho hesitated before snatching a bottle of water from a mini fridge. he pushed it to you, the little amount of liquid sloshing inside. “you should stay still for this,” you said before slowly pouring the water over the wound. 

crap- a gash this big needed a stitch. 

“untie me,” you said, holding your wrists up to your captors. 

jongho glanced at his boss worriedly for permission. hongjoong gave a small nod and jongho quickly pulled out a small knife to cut the rope. 

once free, you quickly looked around for something to stitch his wound with. when nothing looked remotely useful, your eyes dropped to your uniform - a skirt with a yarn trim. it wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

you began to unravel the yarn from the hem.

“what are you doing?” mingi asked, frowning.

“stitching him,” you sighed as your fingers worked hurriedly. “or do you want him to get an infection?”

hongjoong let out a groan, shifting uncomfortably. “just hurry.”

you finished unravelling it, but now you needed a needle. your hand instinctively reached up to your hair - pulling out a small bobby pin. it was definitely not as sharp as a needle, but you’re sure that hongjoong can handle his pain.

“shit- i need to sterilise this,” you muttered, mostly to yourself.

“vodka,” jongho said instantly, grabbing the bottle and handing it to you.

you poured the small amount over the pin, letting it drip onto the floor. then, threading the yarn through the makeshift needle, you glanced at hongjoong.

“this will hurt,” you warned.

he looked at you with clenched teeth. “i don’t care.”

you placed a hand on his side to steady him, feeling the tension in his muscles as he tried to not flinch. carefully, you began to stitch the gash, each pull making him wince. 

when the stitching was complete, you tied the yarn and tore it off with your teeth - but the wound was still bleeding slightly.

you glanced down at your sleeves. without hesitation, you tore a strip of fabric free. you used it to dab away the excess blood, then folded the remaining fabric to wrap it around his side. 

“that should work. for now,” you sat back as you wiped your forehead with your arm.

“...you know how to treat people?” hongjoong asked, wincing slightly. 

you nodded slowly. “yeah.. i know the basics.”

“hm,” he tilted his head. “you’re more useful than i thought.”

you blinked. was a good thing or a bad thing?

“wooyoung,” he yelled out. 

a loud crash was heard in another room, followed by the muffled sounds of frantic movements. within seconds, wooyoung appeared in the doorway. 

“yes, boss?” wooyoung said out of breath, brushing off his shirt as he lookedaround the room. 

hongjoong didn’t respond immediately. instead, he looked you up and down, his lips twitching into what seemed like a smirk. “get her some actual clothes. we have an event to catch.”

HOUR 17 OF 7 - WORDS TALK BUT GUNS TALK LOUDER

“woah..” your eyes took in the building before you. glittering lights and an impressive exterior that was way more extravagant than anything you imagined hongjoong to be involved in.

he parked the car, the engine coming to a stop. before you could say anything, hongjoong stepped out of the car, closing the door shut. you scrambled to follow him, your heels clicking against the pavement as you caught up.

the two of you approached the man stationed at the door - a bouncer with a pen and clipboard.

without warning, hongjoong’s hand snaked around your waist, pulling you snugly against his side. you flinched at the sudden contact, but with how tight his grip was, there was no room for protests.

“ah, mr kim,” the bouncer greeted. “you made it.”

hongjoong offered a brief, fake smile before dropping it immediately. “let us in.”

“hold on now,” the bouncer said, flipping through the papers on the clipboard. “we can’t let her inside.”

hongjoong’s brows furrowed. “why?”

“new policy,” the man sighed, pretending to sound disappointed. “no more plus-ones.”

hongjoong rolled his eyes, not bothering to respond. instead, he reached into his blazer, about to pull out a-

“nevermind!” the bouncer’s face turned pale. he stepped aside with a nervous laugh. “you’re all set- enjoy the night.”

the interior was breathtaking - chandeliers hung from high ceilings and round tables were scattered across the venue, draped in pristine white table cloths. 

“don’t eat or drink anything here.”

you blinked, nodding slowly at hongjoong’s words. “okay.. but why-”

“-and if you really want to stay alive,” he interrupted, his lips brushing your ear. “don't leave my sight.”

his voice sent a chill down your spine. “okay,” you mumbled as he brought you further into the room.

he led you to a seating area - though it looked more like a conversation pit, where an old man sat waiting. 

hongjoong released his grip on you to sit across the man, gesturing for you to follow. you hesitated briefly before settling next to him.

“mr kim,” the old man greeted gruffly. his eyes shifted to you, studying your face. “i see you brought someone.”

hongjoong gave a nod, glancing at you. “introduce yourself, brat.”

“oh uh-” you put out your hand reluctantly, forcing a polite smile. “i’m ‘____’.”

the old man’s eyes narrowed before they widened in realisation. “her father-“

“-i’m glad you noticed,” hongjoong cut in. he slowly reached into his blazer again, but this time, he actually pulled out his pistol. 

your eyes widened as he aimed it to your waist, the cold metal brushing your side. “wha-“

“w-what are you doing?” the old man’s face drained of colour, panic flashing in his eyes. 

hongjoong tilted his head. “let’s negotiate.”

“mr kim-“ the old man began, his voice cracking. “as his friend, you do understand that i have to tell him she’s here.”

“do it,” hongjoong shrugged, leaning back. his arm returned to your waist, pulling you to him as he tapped the gun against your side. 

“let’s see if he values his money more than his own daughter.”

HOUR 18 OF 7 - LIFE ISN’T FAIR

a loud crash echoed through the venue, making you jump. the sound of heavy footsteps grew violent with every second.

hongjoong’s hand tightened around your waist as he stood, dragging you up with him. “move.”

“wait-!” the old man called after you, but hongjoong didn’t stop.

his grip on you was firm, the barrel of his gun pressing against your stomach. you tripped over your feet, struggling to keep up his pace.

“where are you taking me?” you panicked as you glanced over your shoulder at the armed men closing in.

“to your father, princess,” he sneered, his voice mockingly sweet. 

“mr kim! stop right there!” 

you froze, whipping your head around. standing at the far end of the room, infront of a small army of armed men, was your father. 

“let go of my daughter,” your father ordered. he pointed a gun directly at hongjoong, his men following suit. 

your eyes glanced around the room - seeing guests cowering against the walls, some injured and others dead.

“i’m not giving up the brat until i get what i want,” hongjoong demanded.

“what you want is an impossible amount of money!” your father yelled, his grip on his gun tightening.

“impossible?” hongjoong’s eyes widened with craze. “you have more than $500 million tied to your name! did you think i’ll forget who you killed to get here?”

your blood ran cold. “dad.. you killed people?” you asked, your voice trembling as you looked at him.

for a split second, your father’s eyes softened, though that quickly disappeared with a scoff.

“if i didn’t, you wouldn’t have a roof over your head,” your father spat. “you were too stubborn to do anything after you dropped med school.”

the world seemed to tilt, your father’s words more piercing than any bullet. “but i didn’t-”

“-you did,” your father interrupted you. “i spent all that money bribing them just for you to fuck up.”

your heart sank as tears welled in your eyes. hongjoong noticed your reaction, his grip on the gun loosening slightly. 

“i’d appreciate it if you didn’t make my hostage cry,” he said. “do you really want those to be your last words to her?”

“shut up,” your father snarled, his finger close to the trigger. “i’ll say what i want. she’s too stupid to argue back anyway.”

the tears you held back spilled over and all you could hear was your dad shouting, “get her!”

HOUR 18.5 OF 7 - THEY WANT YOU SOO BAD

gunshots were heard in every direction, completely deafening. 

the pungent smell of gunpowder burned your nose as you stumbled, your legs barely holding you up. hongjoong shoved you to the ground, his hand against your back. 

“stay down,” he ordered you, raising his gun and firing without hesitation.

you flinched with every shot, watching in horror as armed men fell one by one with his aim. the world felt like it was spinning too fast and you could barely keep up.

suddenly, a hand grabbed your arm.

“stop moving!” your father yelled, his grip painful as he dragged you towards the exit.

“no!” you choked out, your heels digging into the floor in an attempt to resist. panic ran through your veins as your eyes darted around desperately.

your eyes landed on a fallen gun near your feet. you quickly snatched it, hands trembling as you tried to point it towards him.

“don’t make me do this!” you cried.

your father didn’t stop and without thinking-

-you pulled the trigger.

a bang was heard, followed by his rough scream as he collapsed to the floor, clutching his bleeding thigh.

“oh my god,” you whispered, the gun slipping from your hands as tears flowed uncontrollably down your cheeks. you sank to the floor, staring at the blood pouring out of him.

“you bitch!” he shouted in pain.

out of the corner of your eye, you caught hongjoong watching you, something strange flashing across his face. was that.. surprise? pride? maybe he was impressed?

hongjoong fired a shot at an armed man without looking, moving to you quickly. 

“didn’t think you had it in you, pretty,” he looked over his shoulder. “but we need to leave.”

he led you to a small janitor’s closet near the exit. the narrow space smelled of bleach, but at least it was quiet.

hongjoong shut the door behind you and dusted off his blazer. without a word, his dark eyes inspected you, checking your shoulders and arms.

you stood motionless, too shocked to stop him as he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb wiping away the mascara-stained tears from your cheeks.

“nothing broken,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “no scars either..”

he pulled out a burner phone, typing something quickly.

“i- i just shot my dad,” your shoulders shook as new tears welled up in your eyes.

hongjoong glanced up from the phone, meeting your eyes. “..are you bragging?” he asked bluntly.

“what? he’s my dad-”

“-and he’s a dick,” hongjoong cut you off. “you might share blood, but that man clearly hates you.”

you hiccuped, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “...am i going to hell?”

hongjoong scoffed. “come on-“ he began, but stopped himself when he looked at you and the tears spilling from your eyes. “you didn’t kill him… you’re fine.” 

you opened your mouth to protest but he silenced you as he continued typing. “and even if you did,” he added. “you’re doing the world a favour.”

he smashed the burner phone onto the ground, discarding the pieces. he reloaded his pistol before turning back to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as he led you through bodies and debris.

outside, a black van waited by the curb. hongjoong pushed you inside before climbing in after you, slamming the door shut behind him.

“drive,” he ordered.

as the street lights went past you, you slumped in your seat, completely exhausted. “where are we going?” you asked softly.

hongjoong studied you for a moment, watching your eyelids go heavy. “...go to sleep, brat.”

DAY 2 - OH HONEY I'M HOME

you woke up with a jolt. you sat up from the couch you laid down on, completely disoriented. your eyes darted around the dimly lit room. the hideout. 

relief and fear spread within you. you were safe - for now.

just then, a knock from the doorway made you jump. “didn’t mean to scare you,” a man said, leaning against the frame. “boss wanted me to check on you.”

you blinked. “i- okay,” you coughed to clear your throat, wincing at how dry it felt.

“i’ll let him know you’re awake.”

and with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you alone once more.

though that didn’t last long. moments later, hongjoong entered. he carried a stool over, setting it down across from you before sitting. 

“how long did i sleep?” you asked hoarsely.

“a day,” he replied with a shrug.

your eyes widened. it was only then you noticed your attire - a baggy t-shirt replacing the outfit you were wearing before.

“who changed me?” you blurted out, heat rising to your cheeks.

“i did,” hongjoong answered. he noticed your flustered expression, tilting his head. “what?”

“did you-” you cleared your throat. “did you see anything?”

“i’m not a pervert,” he scoffed. “if it makes you feel better, you were changed in the dark.”

you fell into an awkward, heavy silence as you sat across each other. for the first time, there was no danger, no gunfire or anyone yelling out orders. just silence.

“your dad..” hongjoong began, speaking up. “wants you dead.”

“...what?”

he held up a cassette tape, tossing it onto the table between you, your hands trembling as you picked it up. hongjoong then brought out a cassette tape player, allowing you to hear your father’s voice.

‘mr kim, we’ve had our ups and downs, but i’m sure that we can agree on one thing - that bitch who shot my thigh is a liability. an idiot that made it this far because of me. she’s no longer my responsibility or family, so expect to find her head on a stick when you turn your back. have fun.’

“what the fuck..” you whispered shakily as it came to an end. 

“to be honest, your only purpose was to be a hostage.” hongjoong’s fingers drummed the edge of the stool. “and now that he doesn’t want you.. you’re useless-”

the world around you crumbled, his words making you feel worse. 

“-to him.”

your eyes widened, looking at him in confusion.

“you’re smart,” he shrugged. “and you stitched me.”

you blinked. “…where are you going with this?” 

“i want you to be an addition to my team,” he replied.

“do i have to kill people?” you blurted out. “or steal, or-”

“no,” hongjoong raised a hand to cut you off. “all you’ll be doing is treating my injured men. quite the opposite of killing.”

you frowned, furrowing your eyebrows. “why would you trust me with that?”

“because,” he said, leaning forward. “you have nowhere else to go.”

“that’s not true-”

“really?” hongjoong smirked. “do you know how many businesses your dad owns?”

you shook your head.

“more than 80% in the country,” his eyes sparkled with something dark. “now that you’ve shot him, you’ve burnt every bridge he’s built for you.”

your jaw dropped. “but-”

“no job, no family, nowhere to live either since he owns most of the real estate here.”

you stared at him, struggling to process his words.

“here’s my offer,” hongjoong continued. “you get a decent amount of money, a place to live and protection...”

“...just to treat people?” you asked in disbelief.

he nodded. 

you bit your lip, staring at the floor as you picked at your nails. how could your dad do this to you? abandoning you just like that? and now he wanted you dead? you could feel yourself getting angry just thinking about him.

after a long moment, you lifted your head, meeting his gaze. “deal.” 

MONTH 1 - FAMILY BONDING 

that evening, you sat on the floor with san, wooyoung and yeosang, eating a batch of cheap instant noodles. it was a little awkward - mostly because you just joined, but you were silently appreciating their efforts to make small talk with you. 

suddenly, a loud bang was heard through the hideout. the three men jumped up immediately, pulling guns and knives from who knows where. 

“back entrance?” wooyoung asked as he sharpened his knives. 

your heart raced as you watched the three of them shift into combat mode - and you caught yourself lagging behind. you hurriedly stood up and grabbed the medical kit you kept close. 

“stay here,” san said firmly. 

you shook your head. “if someone’s injured, i’m coming.”

the three of them shared a look before yeosang gave you a reluctant nod. “…just stay behind us. we’ll get in trouble if you get hurt.”

they moved swiftly and silently through the narrow halls of the hideout, weapons in hand. you trailed closely, your heart pounding as you gripped the medical kit tightly. 

when you reached the back entrance, san motioned you to stay back while they checked the door. 

the signs of forced entry were obvious - the lock was broken and scuff marks lined the floor. 

wooyoung scoffed, speaking under his breath. “stupid piglets.”

yeosang sighed. “looks like they took a few weapons and left.”

“are they testing us?” san asked, inspecting a footprint on the ground. 

before anyone could respond, the door slammed open making all of you jump. you turned to see mingi, his chest heaving as he leaned against the door frame. 

“meeting. now.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the hideout’s ‘meeting room’ was more of a cramped closet with mismatched chairs and a comically large table in the middle. hongjoong paced at the end of the room, his jaw clenched. 

“we can’t stay here any longer,” he began. “it’s only a matter of time before they come back in full force.”

hongjoong stopped pacing and crossed his arms. “we need to move back to our old apartments. they’re scattered enough to keep us hidden until we figure out our next move.”

you shifted uncomfortably. 

hongjoong noticed this. “what?” he asked, his sharp eyes landing on you. 

“i uh-“ you hesitated. “i don’t have a home..” you said sheepishly. 

hongjoong raised an eyebrow. 

“my dad owns the house,” you admitted. “and that’s not really an option anymore.”

“right,” hongjoong sighed, running a hand through his hair. “shit..”

“alright, who has space?” he clapped, glancing around the room. 

everyone exchanged uneasy looks. 

“we don’t,” yeosang said, gesturing to himself, san, wooyoung and jongho. “the four of us are already crammed into one place.”

“same here,” yunho spoke up. “mingi and i barely fit in ours.”

hongjoong turned to seonghwa, his face hopeful. 

“no,” seonghwa said without hesitation. 

a heavy sigh escaped hongjoong as he pinched the bridge of his nose. he leaned against the table, deep in thought. 

minutes stretched into what felt like hours before hongjoong finally spoke up. “you’re coming with me,” he said, looking directly at you. 

your eyes widened in surprise. “..what?”

“you’re staying at my place.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the car sped down the (somewhat) empty highway, the faint smell of vanilla from the air freshener mixing with the lingering scent of old fast food. 

you gripped the edge of your seat as the streetlights ran by the window in a blur. “are we in a rush?” you nervously glanced at hongjoong. 

“no,” he replied flatly. 

there was a black car beside you that had been keeping pace for the past few minutes - and just as you shifted in your seat, it suddenly swerved infront of your car and slammed the brakes. 

“what the-” you barely managed to say before the impact. the car jolted violently as it hit the one ahead, the sound of metal crunching loud. 

hongjoong let out a low string of curses under his breath. his face was weirdly calm as he unbuckled his seatbelt, stepping out of the car without a word. 

“wait-” you scrambled to undo your own seatbelt. 

from your seat, you saw him approaching the car. the moment he glanced inside, his eyes widened. he reached for his gun and pulled the trigger instantly. 

the loud gunshot made you flinch and your stomach twisted as you saw the slumped figure in the driver’s seat, blood splattered across the windshield. 

your heart pounded as you stumbled out of the car, rushing towards him. “why did you do that?!”

hongjoong turned to you, his jaw clenched. “it was a piglet.”

“wha-“ your eyes drifted to the body, a shiver going down your spine as you saw the bullet hole clean through the skull. 

hongjoong, completely unfazed, went back to the car. you stared at the lifeless body for a moment longer before hurriedly following him. 

once you were back inside, you swallowed the lump in your throat, attempting to break the suffocating silence. “….how did you know he was a piglet?”

hongjoong didn’t respond immediately. his fingers flexed against the steering wheel as he glanced at you. 

“they have a bullet tattoo..” he said finally, pulling down his collar to point to his collarbone. “..right here.”

you blinked. “oh.”

“if you ever come across one,” he continued. “kill them on sight.”

your eyes widened, your throat tightening. “what about the police?”

he fell silent for a second, his eyes fixed on the road. then, a faint smirk crossed his face. “you don’t need to worry about them.”

his answer left you unsettled, but before you could question him further, the apartment building came into view. it was modern - standing tall with the city skyline. 

hongjoong smoothly pulled into the parking lot. the abruptness of the stop sent you forward, but his hand shot out instinctively, pressing against you to keep you steady. 

“sorry,” he muttered, his voice soft - though he didn’t look at you as he retracted his arm. 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

some might describe hongjoong’s apartment as ‘minimalistic’, but to you, it’s just an excuse for a grown man to avoid decorating. 

the walls were devoid of any art or family photos, the kitchen was spotless - though it was definitely untouched with how there was almost no food in the fridge. and from what you saw, the only source of entertainment was a lone TV. 

“do you..” you began, looking around the bare space. “do you even live here?”

hongjoong ignored your comment and walked towards the big couch and began to pull it into a makeshift bed. the springs creaked slightly as he unfolded it. “this is where you’ll be sleeping,” he said, dusting himself off. 

“cool.”

“don’t complain-“ he stopped himself mid-sentence and narrowed his eyes when he realised what you said. “wait, you’re okay with this?”

you blinked. “…yeah?”

“hm,” he said, slightly surprised. he looked you up and down before turning to the long hallway. “get some rest, we’re getting you a phone tomorrow.”

MONTH 2 - LIVE LAUGH LOVE GUNS

you should’ve known it wouldn’t be long before the piglets attacked you again. 

hongjoong sent you on a simple supply run - nothing unusual. but as you stood in the small pharmacy, you felt the air shift when the cashier’s demeanour turned cold. 

it all happened so fast. 

the moment you saw the gun aimed at your chest, your eyes fell to the faint outline of a bullet tattoo peeking out from his collarbone. great. 

your breath hitched as your body moved on impulse. you barely avoided the first shot as you ducked behind the display rack. 

the pharmacy was strangely empty, no one else to intervene. your heart pounded as the sounds of footsteps and gunshots echoed. 

fumbling with your phone, you dialed every number you could think of. yet, no one answered. 

your hands trembled as you typed hongjoong’s number, your last resort. 

he picked up after one ring. 

“this better be important, brat,” he grumbled, groggy like he just woke up. 

“i need help-” you semi-yelled as you narrowly dodged another shot, darting behind the counter. “i’m getting attacked-”

“-send your location,” hongjoong interrupted. “i’m on my way.”

the line went dead before you could respond. 

you sent your location and shoved the phone back into your pocket. the cashier reloaded the gun, his footsteps growing louder. and just as you moved, he charged. 

he grabbed you, trying to pin you down. you barely managed to fight back, until you made an educated attack - kicking him in the groin. 

he groaned, stumbling back. you took the opportunity to snatch the gun from his hands. 

you pointed it at him, your hands shaking. “stay back,” your voice cracked. 

the man scoffed. “over my dead body,” he lunged at you again. 

your finger moved instinctively, pulling the trigger. 

once. 

twice. 

again and again and again. 

the sound of gunfire rang in your ears, the recoil sending waves through your arms. you didn’t stop until you heard a clicking noise that meant that the gun was empty. 

when you opened your eyes, he was no longer standing. 

you looked down, the cashier laying sprawled on the ground, the concrete dark with blood. bullet holes littered his body, evidence of your frantic shots. 

you dropped to your knees, your chest heaving. you reached out to check his pulse. nothing.

you just took someone’s life. 

your eyes fell to your hands, bloody and shaking. from young, you always wanted to save lives - not take them. tears fell from your eyes, blurring your vision. 

the door slammed open. 

hongjoong stood in the doorway. he took in the body on the floor and your frozen form in a single glance. he sighed, stepping in. 

“come on, let’s go,” he crouched to grab your arm. 

you couldn’t move, your eyes fixed on the lifeless body. 

“hey,” his fingers gripped your jaw, tilting your face to meet his. his eyes were intense, his touch warm against your cold skin. “we need to leave before more show up. you don’t want to kill anyone else, do you?”

you shook your head quickly. 

he pulled you to your feet, wrapping his arm around yours as he guided you to his car. the ride back was silent as you stared out of the window. 

and before you knew it, you were back at his apartment. 

you hesitated at the door, unable to bring yourself to step inside. 

hongjoong sighed, grabbing your wrist as he tugged you in. he tossed his gun and his keys in the kitchen counter before turning to you. 

“go take a long shower. i’ll be in the living room.”

you nodded, moving to the bathroom in a daze. 

the water was scalding as it hit your skin. no amount of soap or scrubbing would ever make you feel clean from the bloodied-stains. every part of your body felt foreign - even your puffy eyes and lips.

once you were done, you dressed in the softest clothes you had, hoping that it would provide you with some form of comfort (it didn’t).

the pull-out couch was prepared with brand-new pillows and fluffy blankets when you returned to the living room. hongjoong sat on the edge, gesturing for you to sit. you sank down beside him. 

the silence stretched on until it became unbearable. 

you spoke up, your voice barely audible. “…i killed someone.”

“you did,” he nodded. “good job.”

your head snapped up, your eyes wide. “i killed someone.”

“and so have i,” hongjoong leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “does that bother you?”

“i…”

he leaned back. “it should. the first time always does.”

“i don’t think i can do this,” you breathed out shakily. “i don’t want to hurt people..”

the two of you locked eyes for what felt like ages. you could see hongjoong’s adam's apple bob up and down, his jaw tightening slightly. “no one wants to hurt people,” he replied softly. 

you blinked. 

“i shouldn’t have sent you out alone, especially with your dad targeting you,” he sighed. “that’s on me.”

“but-”

“-though i do have to say, this made me realise how.. unprepared you are,” he continued.

your eyebrows furrowed. 

“if you want to survive, you need to know how to defend yourself,” he drummed his fingers against the couch. “...you’re off supply runs. from now on, you’re training with the others.”

you stared at him. “what?”

“the rest have some ‘schedule’ for training. i’m sure you can join without any problems.”

you hesitated. the thought of the blood, the body, the gun in your hands made you nauseous. the idea of training scared you. 

he noticed this, his eyes softening slightly. “you won’t be a killer, just someone capable of self-defense.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat. finally, you nodded, your voice small. “okay.”

MONTH 3 - LET’S GO GAMBLING!

the casino was glitzy and loud with copyright-free music, its neon lights casting eerie shadows on the dark streets outside. 

“you three, cover left. you two, check the vault. the rest of you will stay near the exit,” hongjoong ordered.

you waited for your assignment, expecting to be grouped with someone. instead, hongjoong said, “you’re with me.”

you sighed. “alright.”

you followed hongjoong to the right side of the casino, the sounds of laughter and clinking glasses filling the space. he moved silently, keeping his gun concealed but ready. you tried to mimic his focus, clutching the knife wooyoung lent you earlier.

the first sign of trouble came when the alarms blared.

armed men swarmed into the casino. piglets.

hongjoong moved first, taking them down in a single shot. you ducked behind a pillar, your heart pounding.

the fight moved fast. hongjoong was precise - he wasn’t even touchable, killing the men easily.

but that was when you saw it before he did: a piglet creeping up behind him, raising and aiming the gun to his head.

“boss!”

without hesitation, you hurled wooyoung’s knife to the piglet.

the knife pierced and plunged into his neck, causing the man to fall, his gun clattering to the ground. 

hongjoong whipped his head around with wide eyes, shooting the man infront of him before spinning to kill the piglet you just hit.

the silence that followed was deafening.

hongjoong’s breathing was heavy as he lowered his weapon. he dusted his clothes off, looking at you with an unreadable expression.

he gulped, finally speaking up. “...good job, pretty.” 

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

slowly, everyone regrouped in the corner, collapsing onto the floor in a circle. bottles of water were passed around as everyone caught their breaths.

for a while, no one spoke, the only sounds being an occasional groan.

“hey,” wooyoung hiccuped, breaking the silence as he turned to you. “give me my knife back.”

you looked at him awkwardly before handing him his completely bloody and dented knife - basically ruined.

“what the hell!” he exclaimed. “that was one of my favourites!”

you shrugged. “you shouldn’t have given it to me then.”

“i didn’t know you were actually gonna use it,” wooyoung complained. “i thought you would just watch.”

“you’re such a dick,” you rolled your eyes.

wooyoung leaned in closer - his voice annoyingly sweet. “aw, don’t be mad, sweetheart. i’ll get you a better knife- one that won’t bend in your delicate fucking hands.”

“shut up,” you groaned, shoving him lightly as the others chuckled.

hongjoong leaned against the wall, his arm crossed over his chest. his eyes shifted from wooyoung to you. 

his chest tightened in a now-familiar way: you’re fitting in too well.

it wasn’t jealousy - at least, that’s what he told himself. it was about control. your presence was a distraction he didn’t account for. but the others took you in so easily, which was technically a good thing, right?

and yet...

why did his stomach twist every time one of them smiled at you?

hongjoong blinked, realising how his leg was bouncing restlessly. he forced himself to stop, sighing deeply.

“you good, boss?” yunho asked.

hongjoong paused. “...i’m fine.”

yunho raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it, turning away.

hongjoong’s eyes returned to you. you were leaning a little too close to yeosang now, laughing at some joke wooyoung said - sending a strange pang through his chest.

why did this bother him so much?

you weren’t doing anything wrong. you were building trust, meshing with the group - just like he expected.

but this wasn’t about the group, was it?

he frowned, thinking. you stitched him right after he kidnapped you, you saved him from getting shot even though you were definitely not ready to fight.

what has he ever done for you?

introduced you to a world of crime? to a world of killing, stealing and hatred? accidentally ruined the relationship between you and your dad?

hongjoong closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

shit.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

without bothering to change, you sank into the pull-out couch - exhaustion pulling you to it like gravity.

you heard hongjoong locking the door behind him, the soft click sounding loud in the quiet apartment. his footsteps shuffled toward the kitchen, the sounds of cabinets opening and closing reaching your ears. you were way too tired to look.

you didn’t realise you drifted off until you were awoken by something heavy on your body.

your eyes fluttered open groggily. for a moment, you thought you were dreaming. hongjoong was in the middle of draping a large blanket on you.

“what are you doing?” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep.

his eyes darted to yours briefly. “nothing.”

you frowned, shifting to sit up - but he placed a hand on your shoulder, pressing you gently back down. “sleep.”

you let out a quiet sigh. “shouldn’t you be sleeping?” you muttered.

he paused, his jaw tensing. “....tomorrow onwards, you’re training with me.”

you stared at him, stunned. before you could even say anything, he turned and walked away without a word.

…did your boss just tucked you in?

MONTH 3.5 -  PUNCH, KICK, SNARE

“again,” hongjoong said, slightly out of breath. 

the living room felt smaller than usual with the two of you moving around. the coffee table and couch was pushed aside, leaving just enough space to practice your punches without tripping over the furniture. he claimed training here would teach you how to ‘fight in tight quarters’.

he sighed. “your moves are sloppy.”

you groaned, shaking your aching wrists. “i’m trying.”

“that’s not enough when someone’s aiming a gun at your head,” he replied, stepping back and raising hands. “your punches are too weak and your balance is all over the place. reset your stance.”

you rolled your eyes but obeyed, repositioning your feet. it wasn’t the first time you’ve heard those words from him.

hongjoong moved closer, tapping your wrist. “keep your guard up. always.”

you threw another punch, but it barely made his hands move. he lowered them, sighing. “that’s not going to hurt anyone-“

“-i’m doing my best, okay?” you snapped. “i’m not a fast learner.”

his eyes softened for a moment before narrowing again. “that’s not an excuse when your life is on the line.”

you tsked. he was right of course, but that didn’t make it easier to hear.

“again.”

you tried once more, throwing a combination of punches that he blocked with ease. when you attempted a kick, you stumbled, nearly losing your footing.

he caught you instinctively, his hands steadying you.

“watch your balance,” he said automatically, going on a tangent on how training is important and blahblahblah. 

you tried to focus on your surroundings, on the words he was saying, but it was hard to ignore the proximity between you. the smell of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of sweat in the room. his touch wasn’t rough or aggressive like you’d expect - it was gentle.

your eyes drifted to his face, catching the faint scars along his cheekbones and jawline. were those always there? or was this the first time you really noticed?

his brows furrowed, likely in frustration at your lack of response, but the concern in his eyes snapped you back into reality, making you realise that you were staring the whole time.

“i don’t think i’m cut out for this,” the words spilled out before you could stop them.

hongjoong paused, his lips parting slightly - he wasn’t  expecting you to say that. for a moment, he was silent. he then leaned in, his eyes piercing. 

“you don’t get to quit.”

the intensity of his voice made you forget about the aches in your muscles and the sweat dripping down your back. his words weren’t angry - they were commanding. 

“why do you even care?” you whispered, barely audible.

his grip on your arms loosened slightly, his eyes searching yours for what felt like eternity. then out of nowhere, he stepped back, clearing his throat as he avoided your gaze. “take five,” he mumbled, walking to the kitchen.

MONTH 5 - BLOOD, BLOOD AND MORE BLOOD

the office building looked ordinary. if you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was just another corporate HQ. but you knew better.

and so did hongjoong.

you held up the new knife wooyoung gave you, one that wasn’t as pretty as the last. it was finally the day you ambushed your dad, the man that’s been wanting you dead for months.

you looked up to face hongjoong. “i don’t want to see it,” you said suddenly.

he raised an eyebrow. “see what?”

“when you kill him. my dad,” you clarified, your throat tightening. “i’m.. okay with it, but i don’t want to see it.”

his eyes studied you. after a moment, he nodded. “make sure to stay close to me,” he said before turning to the building.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the group slipped into the building through the side. hongjoong led the way, gripping his pistol tightly as you stayed close behind him.

“elevators are too risky,” hongjoong looked back at the group. “we’ll take the stairs.”

the group nodded, their weapons drawn as they moved quietly through the halls. the fluorescent lights did nothing to mask the sinister aura that was buried in the walls.

when you reached the stairwell, the sound of footsteps echoing above sent everyone into high alert.

the first shot rang out.

gunfire filled the stairwell. the air was thick with smoke and gunfire. you pressed yourself against the wall, trying to avoid all of the attacks happening around you. you tried to go in to fight but-

-someone grabbed you.

you struggled, twisting out of their grasp. but before you could scream, a hand clamped over your mouth, dragging you away. “stay still.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

the stench forced your eyes open - a horrid mix of stale cigar smoke and alcohol. the office was dimly lit and your father crouched infront of you, his face smug as he cornered you.

“you think you’re better than me, don’t you?” he sneered.

you glared at him, your heart pounding. “fuck off.”

a bitter laugh escaped his lips. “you’ve gotten worse since you joined that boy,” he spat. “should i cut off your tongue? unhinge your jaw? or maybe i’ll be basic and shoot you.”

“you’re insane,” your stomach twisted. “it’s hard to believe we’re related, especially with how ugly you are.”

“you-”

before he could finish, you jammed wooyoung’s knife into his other thigh, dragging it down to create a large gash. he let out a guttural scream, stumbling into a desk as his pants turned a dark red.

you moved quickly, scrambling out of the corner, but two piglets grabbed you before you could get far.

“stupid bitch,” your father hissed, forcing himself up as he took out the knife in his thigh, looking directly at you. “you’re going to regret that.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

as hongjoong shot another piglet with his pistol, he looked around the haze, searching for a certain someone. “where’s ‘____’?” he asked.

the group stayed silent.

“shit- we don’t know,” wooyoung said nervously.

hongjoong’s face darkened - and without hesitation, he grabbed a nearby piglet by the collar, slamming him against the wall. “where’s your boss?” he snarled.

the piglet squirmed. “i- i have a family!”

hongjoong’s grip on his collar tightened, his eyes widening scarily. “then bring me to him.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

“your mother should’ve gotten the abortion,” your father said before settling down infront of you, the bloody knife close to your face. “then my money wouldn’t be wasted on cunts like you.”

“i’m surprised that you got a woman like her to fuck you,” you breathed out shakily as the blade hit your skin. 

“i guess you inherited her bitchiness.”

the door burst open as the knife grazed your skin. hongjoong stepped in, his gun raised. “let go of her,” he ordered.

the piglets hesitated, glancing between your father and hongjoong. your father’s hand didn’t move, a scar forming on your face. 

“you want her that badly?” your father asked mockingly. “you’re becoming soft.”

hongjoong didn’t answer. instead, he moved faster than you thought was possible, shooting the two piglets that held you with ease.

the bodies hit the ground - causing your father to shove you harshly against the wall. pain shot through your body as you heard something crack.

hongjoong froze, his pistol trained on your dad. 

“stay back,” your father warned, hovering the blade near your temple.

hongjoong’s jaw clenched. he dropped his gun slightly, making your father relax.

but then hongjoong lunged.

the fight was brutal, all punches and grunts. you slumped against the wall, your cheek bleeding uncontrollably as every part of your body ached.

after what felt like ages, hongjoong finally gained the upper hand, pinning your dad down as he pointed the gun to his head. but then his eyes landed on yours, wide and terrified - making him freeze.

“shit,” he cursed under his breath, lowering the gun. he turned and rushed to you, pulling you into his arms.

your father tried to crawl away, but hongjoong didn’t let him go far. with you in his embrace, he covered your eyes and ears tightly as the sound of a singular gunshot echoed in the room.

you clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. his hand cradled the back of your head, his touch soft. “it’s over,” he whispered as you sobbed.

you shook your head against his chest, the salt in your tears stinging the cut on your cheek. “i almost died.”

“i know,” he said softly. “but i wouldn’t let that happen.”

his words settled over you like a warm blanket. you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his face. you could feel the heat of his body as he kept you close.

hongjoong shifted, his hands moving to your shoulders as he looked at you carefully. his thumb brushed over your scar, wiping away the trail of blood on your face.

“you’re shaking,” his eyebrows furrowed. “you need to breathe.”

“i’m trying.”

he reached for a nearby chair and pulled it over, guiding you to sit. hongjoong crouched infront of you, your hands trembling in his.

“you’re safe,” his eyes locked onto yours. “i’ve got you.”

something inside you cracked at his words - and tears spilled once more. hongjoong didn’t say anything, but his presence was enough. he stayed crouched infront of you, letting you take all the time you needed.

when you finally looked up, there was something unspoken in his eyes - a mix of guilt and relief that made your heart ache. “...thank you,” you whispered.

his lips parted like he wanted to say something, but the words never came. instead, he nodded slowly, his grip on your hands tightening for a moment before letting go.

at that moment, you leaned forward, closing the small distance between you. your lips brushed against his, just enough to make his entire body stiffen.

for a second, you thought you made a mistake. his hands paused midair and his breathing hitched.

but then, he moved. to you. 

his hands cupped your face gently, pulling you closer into a kiss. it was slow at first, but when you gripped his shirt tightly - the feelings he’d been keeping were let loose.

his lips pressed against yours with urgency. his fingers tangled in your hair, holding you like you might disappear if he let go. 

you responded instinctively. your hands found his neck, his jaw - brushing over them softly in a way that made him groan. “fuck- you’re so pretty.”

the world around you spun in swirls of blood, smoke and cologne, overwhelming you in a way that made you lose your breath.

hongjoong broke away for a moment, panting slightly. his lips curled into a smirk, before he kissed you again, softer this time but no less intense. it was grounding, reassuring and impossibly warm.

when the two of you pulled back, his thumb traced your scar. “this..” he began quietly. “..this isn’t what i expected tonight.”

you let out a soft, shaky laugh. “me neither.”

he pecked your forehead as he stood up, his legs slightly wobbly from the kiss. hongjoong held out a hand, helping you to your feet. “...let’s go home.”

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BONUS SCENE - MINE

the apartment was quiet as you laid on the pull-out couch, staring at the ceiling. sleep wasn’t coming - your mind was too busy replacing the events earlier.

the memory of hongjoong’s arms around you stayed, along with the feeling of his lips on yours. how could a man as dangerous as him bring you such comfort?

a soft knock against the wall broke the silence.

you sat up slowly, seeing hongjoong standing in the hallway. his hair was slightly damp and he wore a loose black hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. he hesitated before walking to you, his movements weirdly awkward.

“...you okay?” you asked the nervous man.

he shrugged, trying to play it off as he sat next to you. “i’m fine. you?”

“i’ve been better.”

there was a pause as the two of you stared at each other, the silence heavy. finally, he cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably.

“i’ve been thinking..” hongjoong trailed off.

“uh-oh.”

“i-it’s not a bad thing-” he said hurriedly. “it’s just that.. tonight made me think about a lot of things.”

you tilted your head, confused.

his voice softened as he continued. “but this isn’t just about tonight. it’s about.. everything. i don’t want you to feel.. unsafe all the time.”

“i don’t,” you said instantly, but you’re not sure how much you believed yourself.

he leaned back slightly, reaching into his hoodie pocket. when his hand reappeared, it was holding a pistol - his pistol, sleek and black.

“take this,” he held it out to you.

you blinked, staring at the weapon. “what? why?”

“because it’s mine,” he replied simply leaving no room for argument. “and now, it’s ours.”

you hesitated, your hand hovering over the gun. “i.. i barely know how to use this.”

“then i’ll teach you.”

you looked up at him, searching his face for answers. “...why are you giving this to me?”

you noticed the way his eyes darted down as you looked at him, his fingers tightening around the pistol as he pushed it to you. 

“because,” hongjoong began quietly. “i trust you.”

your fingers paused before finally closing around the gun. the cold metal felt deadly in your grasp, but the way his eyes lit up made your heart swell.

“you trust me..?” you asked softly, a faint smile on your face. “hongjoong..”

his usual composure faltered as you said his name, a blush dusting his face. he swallowed the lump in his throat, gathering himself. “you’re not just a part of the group,” he said. “you’re more than that. to me.”

your eyebrows shot up, completely stunned. “...i don’t know what to say.”

“say yes.”

you blinked. “yes to what?”

“to being mine,” hongjoong’s hands fidgeted slightly.

your heart raced as you heard his words. a wide smile spread across your face as you realised what he was really asking.

“are you..” you paused. “are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

his breath got caught in his throat as he nodded. “yeah.”

the man that was the literal leader of an entire gang, was sitting nervous infront of you. it was a funny sight to see, but you brought yourself back to reality, answering his question.

“yes.”

a wave of relief washed over his face as he let out the breath he seemed to be holding. he reached out, his fingers brushing yours briefly as he leaned closer. “wanna sleep in my bed tonight?”

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[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

The Salesman | SFW alphabet + being obsess with his wife

Can be read as part of this

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Warnings: Parts with Suggestive things - Obsess!Salesman - Wife!Reader - Possessive!Salesman - Grammar mistakes -

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

The Salesman its not someone who usually shows affection or gets said feeling towards anyone. In fact for most years he thought he was unable to feel such a thing.

But then you came into his life and shattered that thought. He ended stalking you around Seoul, getting to know you before he did a first approach. He called it fascination at first, but when he finally got to know you for real he fell hard for you.

His ways of showing affection are quality time together, since he has some complicated hours at work he looks out for things you two can do together. Avoids the places where he usually goes.

Words, he loves calling you cute nicknames and telling you how well you did something. No matter what it was he makes a big deal out of it.

Contact, if he could take you everywhere with him, he would. He needs to have you by his side, being able to touch you its a must. He needs one kiss from you for his day to be good.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Most likely you two would be friends if you two used to work for the Organization and shared the same twisted dark mind set back then.

Like that he is a chaotic one, he does not like breaking the rules, in fact he lives by them. But would push your limits both inside the island and outside.

If you two worked as recruiters then you two would have friendly competitions on who can get more peopel into the games and bet on them once the games starts.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

YES. He is a big softie for his wife. After a long day of seeing the kind of peopel he hates the most he comes home needing you. 

Will drag you to either the bed or the expensive couch the saw you seeing one time and got it for you, cause why not? The best for his wife.

Will hug you from behind, let his head fall on your shoulder and whisper how much he loves you and how happy he is with you.

If you two lay down then he would like to have you pressed against his chest, facing him so he can give you small kisses or being the small spoon so he can hug you against him and act as a shiled from the world.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

THIS MAN SAW YOU AND WAS ALTERADY PLANNING THE WEEDING.

He is actually good at both. He likes to keep his home clean and prefers food that he made himself. However he cant compare his coking skills with yours. After the first time he tried your food he was unable to make himself food again. Why ? Because yours its just better!! And dont ask him to eat fast food, he hates it.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Oh sweet you, he would NEVER break up with you.

If for some reason you start to act strange and distant yourself from him he will gashlight you and blame you, manipulating the situation on his favor so you would feel bad for even think about it.

No. He needs you like his lungs needs air, he cant and wont ever let you go. He would destroy your personal life first so you would have no one to reach for.

You are his light and muse, he wont let you go.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

FAST. As I said he saw you and he was planning the weeding.

Even if he wants to get married fast he would work himself to be seen as a proper future husband. If you have friends then he would act as a gentlemen and even make them jealous of you. Your family would love him to no end, and would joke about when the weeding will be.

Your mom/dad may beg you to marry him since he is a good man and wants the best for you.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

SFW: SOFTIE. Loves to hold you close, smell your perfume and have your hands around him. It helps him ground himself down when he is too stressed.

Emotionally he is complicated, for you he is a open book at least with his feelings of devotion towards you. He is very vocal by how much he cares for you and how happy you make it. When it comes to personal matters, mostly his work he prefers to keep you in the dark about it. He does not want you to see him any different.

NSFW: At first in order to not scare you away he would be gentle and vanilla with you in bed. Then he would slowly introduce you to his depraved and dark side of it.

Does he manipulate you into giving in? Yes, yes he does. But you wont ever notice it.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

He likes them, his hugs are short but with full of meaning. He likes to give you one during the mornings and at night.

Its a routine he has, he needs to at least give you one during the day.

On special times his hugs will be longer, maybe in your anniversary, he will hold you in his arms against his chest letting you listen to his heart beat.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

In is mind, he tells you the L word just days after starting dating you, or even while he stalked you.

He knows he loves you, but wants you to say it to him first so he can respond pulling all his heart in these words.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He gets easily jealous, not because he does not trust you. But because he wants you all for himself.

Not only does he gets jealous over strange males, but over your friends too.

If he feels like you are passing too much time with them, then he will use his charm to keep you away from them.

If things gets more serious...then he will just make them dissapear, he may torture them or take two at times and makes them play a deadly game but the catch is..no one has a chance of winning.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Oh! His kisses are full of love and passion, his favorite spot its defenetly your lips. He loves to kiss them till they end all red and puffy.

Your neck is another place, he likes to leave both, small kisses and long ones in order to leave marks behind.

He likes to be kissed by you on his lips, neck, cheeck and hands. The last one its his personal favorite since it makes him feel less of a monster...or does not care what he does as long as you like his hands.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Actually no.

He can fake around kids that are not his but he does not want kids with you.

He wants to live a long life with you and only you. He wants your attention only on him.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Depends on how the night activities went.

Sometimes he lets you sleep while he gets ready but he finds you making him breakfast. Thats a thing that always happen.

If he feels like he wants to spend more time with him then he would ask you to shower with him, and help him dress for the day.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Depends on how he wants the night to go and and what time he gets back.

If he comes early and just wants to spend quiality time with you, you two would watch a movie or talk for a bit.

And if he wants to do another tnings...well you two are in for a long time.

If he comes home late then he would prefer you to be asleep, since he still has to shower and other things.

But you usually wait for him awake or wake up once he gets in, you like to see his tired face light up when he sees how much you worry over him.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Its complicated. He likes how you see him and only know of his depraved side when it comes to sex.

He may twist the truth about his past and what he does for work, maybe with a few years he will reveal something more, but nothing that would scare you.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He has much patience, needs it for his work and it traslates to your relationship. Its not like you can do more to break his patience, he deals with worse things.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He remembers every single detail.

Even since he stalked you and got all your personal information, its like his second life.

What you like and dislike, what type of music, food, colors and activities, he remembers all of it.

Its impossible for him to forget a single detail when it comes to you.

He remembers your the special dates, from the first time he saw you to the first date you to had.

Your anniversary date its printed on his mind, you will find the most romantic dinner waiting for you, the most relaxing day just for you.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

His favorite moment its one centrain day, the day you told him you loved him.

It was a sunny day of spring, both of you were walking around a park, seeing the flowers and nature as well as other couples.

He had stopped to buy you some sweet and was enjoying seeing you munch over them.

"You know, we have been dating for some time now" You said to him, stopping to look up at him.

Taking a deep breath you added "And I cant keep this hide from you anymore, I love you, I have never feel loved like this before. And I have never loved someone so much before, it makes my heart feel heavy in a good way. And I want you to know it, I love you"

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is very protective over you.

While he knows the organization wont do anything to you unless you do something to interfer with the games he feels at ease with that.

He does not trust the peopel.

He hacks your phone so he can know where you are at all hours. Has cameras at his home and a security system in case someone breaks in.

He even teachs you to use a gun and fight just in case.

(Having you around him its just a plus)

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

LOTS. Each date, anniversary and gift suprasses the last one.

He will ask you what you biggest dream is and make it come true. Gets you the best gifts and take you to the most fancy and fun dates.

Even once you two are married he likes to still take you out like old times.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He is:

A stalker.

Manipulative

Gaslighter

Possessive

Control freak but hides it.

He is a red flag, a walking one. But even that he gets all softie for you, his dear wife.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Well, he knows he is good looking and likes to take care of how he looks. But only for you.

Wants to look handsome and well dress for you. Does not care if he catches the eyes of others, he just wants you to look at him and tell him how good looking he is.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Totally. He never felt complete before, always alone and going on with his days. He never cared if he felt lonely, not till he met you from afar and then for real.

To him, you are his soulmate, his other half, his human side and lover. The one who grounds himself and brights his life.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

If you have a special plush to sleep with, he gets jealous of it. Even if he got you the plush himself.

Honestly if he ends being obsess with you he may ignore whatever thing he may dislike from you.

Does this mean he would not try and change you? Oh no, he would.

Something he dislikes is disobedience , if he tells you to not ask about his work he expects you to do as told. You cant follow, you cant enter his office...

Thats what he hates the most.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Before meeting you, he would sleep six hours. And thats it. His nights are plagued with nightmares and lots of times he would wake up before his alarm and look outside the window, towards the dark till the sun comes out and the lights of other houses starts to get on.

But once he meets you, he becomes a heavy sleepier, he loves to cuddle you during the night, with you by his side his nightmares are gone. His six hours passed to be eight hours, more if he feels greedy and want to stay besides you some more.

[wanderingwinds333]

My Sweetheart, Your Nightmare.

Pairing: Azriel X Reader

Summary: Having noticed that Elain clings to Azriel, Feyre mentions she thinks Azriel and Elain would be good together. Questions why the mother didn’t make them mates. Rhysand quickly lets her in on an important piece of information.

“‘Why not make them mates?” Feyre states as she witnesses her sister and Azriel down in the garden.

Rhysands eyes widen at his mates brazen comment and goes to interject but before he can she continues on.

“They look perfectly matched do they not? Two beautiful and caring people. Three sisters for three brothers just make sense?” Feyre says sounding upset.

“Feyre darling. It appears I’ve left out some pretty important information about this family. It’s my fault really, she’s been out doing my messy work for the night court this whole time. Keeping all the other threats at bay and …immobilizing them so Azriel has less work on his plate.” Rhysand rambles.

“What? I’m not following Rhys?” Feyre questions.

Rhysand sighs but goes to explain further.

“Azriel is only doing as I have asked in looking after Elain. He already has a mate Feyre. One he is very committed to. A female that you most certainly never want to hear the words you just spoke about your sister and him. She- “ a throat clears from behind them.

“SHE, is right here Rhysand.” A sultry voice states.

Rhysands eyes widen in what Feyre can only see as fear.

“Y/N! You are home! Oh Azriel is going to be thrilled, let me just go get him for you.” Rhysand quickly goes to grab Feyre and tries to leave but y/n has other plans.

Magic surges across the room and Feyres feet feel stuck to the floor. She turns her head to look at Rhysand and notices he is in the same predicament.

“Dammit” Rhysand whispers more to himself.

“Ah ah ah, Rhysie. That’s no way to greet your favorite sister in law. You haven’t even introduced me to your mate yet.”

Feyre turns to actually get a good look at the female that has somehow over powered the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court.

Ashen white hair, icy eyes, taller than most fae females, and she has a beautiful silhouette that filled out a pair of black leathers quite nicely, Feyre thought. Cauldron boil her, this female was gorgeous.

Before Feyre could find anymore of your perfections Rhysand interrupted her train of thoughts.

“Think less loudly Feyre Darling, I’m starting to become jealous.” Rhysand deadpans.

Feyre blushes and immediately looks down to her feet.

“You know I have that affect on most fae Rhysie. Don’t be a sour puss.” Y/n smugly states.

Y/n descends upon them and actually goes to bow before Feyre.

“It is an honor to officially meet you my High Lady. My name is y/n, assassin of the Night Court. Mate and wife of Azriel.” Y/N proudly states.

“I-it’s lovely to finally meet you y/n.” Feyre stutters out.

This female infront of Feyre is terrifying and ethereal. Feyre already knows she is lethal and all thoughts she had prior of how Elain and Azriel were perfectly matched go straight out the window. She can see it now…why the cauldron makes the pairings it does.

Y/N stands to her full height but all playfulness she exuded before is gone.

“I know you did not know of my existence until just now…so for that reason alone I’ll let your comments slide. But Azriel is MY mate and the saying ‘if I can’t have them, then no one can’ is very much the saying I live by when it comes to him.”

Feyre can only nod her head dumbfounded.

A second later shadows envelope the room. More lively than Feyre has ever seen them.

Azriel soon enters with a confused Elain in tow.

When Azriel lays his eyes on y/n, Feyre can quite literally see the tension leave his body.

“Sweetheart.” Azriel speaks so softly. He rushes to y/n and envelopes her in a hug that looks like it would hurt.

“Hi love.” Y/n whispers back just as soft and leans her forehead against his.

It’s an intimate moment that everyone else in the room feel like they are intruding on.

But one moment the feared shadowsinger and his mate were there…and the next gone.

Rhysand releases a breath that he had been holding.

“Well that was y/n. She’s half high fae and half witch. The people of Prythian call her Nightmare because fae parents tell their children if you don’t behave she’ll come in the night while you are sleeping and take you to her dungeon. Which isn’t totally untrue…it’s just criminals and murderers that she takes to her dungeon. You won’t see her or Azriel again until maybe two or three months from now .” Rhysand states.

“What? Where will they be?” Elain finally speaks.

After witnessing all she just had she can’t say she’s not a bit disappointed. It was obvious what you were to Azriel.

“Oh they are going to pick up their children from Azriels mom’s cottage and spend the rest of their time at their home.” Rhysand throws out casually.

“THEY HAVE CHILDREN? Rhysand what else have you conveniently left out?!” Feyre berates.

“….well I think that’s it honestly. OH they have a pet wolf who is very protective of the children. Also my niece and nephews, they enjoy tormenting people in different ways than their parents…mental manipulation. Just lock your mind up real tight around them. God I love them and proud they are all daemati like me but they once convinced me I had a thing for Beron for over a week until y/n realized what they were doing and made them release my mind.” Rhysand annoyedly admits.

Elain and Feyre can only stare at him in shock. He simply shrugs his shoulders like it was normal and walks off.

Elain breaks the silence and turns to Feyre. “I think y/n is going to end up being best friends with Nesta.” the two break out in giggles and they honestly can’t wait to see that unfold.

[rafesheaven]

stopping at the hospital to bring your dad something to eat for dinner and seeing his best friend doctor rafe and when you're walking down the hallway someone suddenly takes your hand to pulls you into the empty room 🤭 you turn around to see rafe and when you ask him why did he do that he just shrugs, smirking down at you as he takes your face between his big hands to whisper "maybe i'm just hungry too?" before he goes down on you like a starved man <3

warnings — dbf!doctor!rafe, age gap (rafe is 35, reader is early 20s), sneaking around, public sex, oral (f. receiving), praising

more of my doctor!rafe au found here !

“hey sweetie, what are you doing here?” your dad greeted when he noticed you. “figured i’d bring you some dinner since you’re working the overnight shift tonight,” you gestured to the tupperware in your hands. “you didn’t have to do that,” he chuckled, “i know, but i wanted to, besides, i know how crazy the hospital gets during this time of the year,” you shrugged.

“yeah, the holidays tend to do that or make people do crazy things,” he snorted, carefully taking the tupperware and tucking it under his arm. your ears perked at a familiar voice, and your eyes landed upon rafe, your dad's best friend, who was already looking in your direction while talking to one of the nurses. rafe had that same signature smirk on his face, shooting you a playful wink, and chuckling to himself when you quickly averted your attention back to your father calling you, "honey?"

"sorry dad, what were you saying?" you mumbled, hearing him sigh at the sound of his pager going off, “it's okay, honey. i was just saying that i have to go, but thank you for bringing dinner.” you smiled softly, nodding as he planted a kiss on your forehead, “i’ll see you at home, alright?”

after he rounded the corner, you looked back to find that rafe was nowhere to be found before you started heading down the hallway to get to the elevator. just as you were about to pass one of the supply closets, a hand reached out, encircling your wrist and yanking you into the small, confined room.

"what the hell—" you spun around, crashing right into rafe's broad chest. "rafe? why did you drag me in here?" you questioned. the older man shrugged, smirking down at you as he cupped your face in his large hands, "thought you'd be happy to see me, babydoll."

"i am, but what if someone saw you dragging me in here?," you argued. "you worry too much, you know that?" rafe chuckled, earning a playful smack to the chest, "yeah, for good reasons."

“you need to stop worrying so much, it’s not good for your pretty little head,” his thumbs caressed your cheeks. he gently pulled your face closer as he dips his head down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. you melted like putty in his hands, your hands grabbed at his scrub top, balling it into your fists to pull him closer.

“see? isn’t that better?” rafe hummed, kissing along your jaw to your neck. “a little, still doesn’t explain why you dragged me in here,” you pointed out, moaning softly when he nipped at your flesh. "maybe i'm just hungry too," he muttered against your skin. "what—" you watched as he lowered himself to his knees, his hands pushing your skirt, causing it to hike around your waist.

“fuck, haven’t even touched you and you’re already soaking through this little thing,” he groaned, his fingers hooking into your panties, tugging it down till it pooled around your ankles. he helped you step out of them before pocketing them into his scrub pants, “gonna need something to help me get through the rest of this shift.”

you lean your back against the shelves in the closet as he nudged your thighs further apart. “fuckin’ missed this sweet little pussy,” rafe groaned, his tongue running through your slick folds to your puffy clit.

"oh—" you hiccuped, his tongue circling your clit, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, making you sink your teeth into your bottom lip to muffle your moans. you looked down at him with heavy-lidded eyes, and saw he was already looking up at you. his nails dug into the skin of your hips, pulling you closer as the tip of his tongue flicked at your clit, moving to prod at your entrance.

you forgot how good he was at this, but he's never failed to make you cum from his tongue alone. small, desperate pants slip from your lips as he ate you out like you were his last meal.

"missed tasting you on my tongue, babydoll. taste as sweet as you look," rafe moaned against your cunt, his tongue delved into your cunt. "fuck, rafe," you whined, his nose grinding against your poor clit as your rut your hips, grinding against his mouth desperately.

your legs started to tremble as you felt the familiar knot forming in your stomach. "oh fuck...'m gonna cum," you whimpered pathetically, your hand clutching the back of his head. "c'mon, babydoll, just let go," he groaned, sucking your sensitive bud back into his mouth harshly,

you quickly clamped your hand over your mouth as a cry erupted from your throat, pure bliss washing over you. rafe watched in awe, taking in your pleasure-ridden face, his tongue lapping at your release before pulling away to kiss along your inner thighs. he slowly stood up, helping you fix your skirt, "did so good, baby," he peppered your face with kisses.

"c'mon, let's get out of here before we actually do get caught," he whispered, carefully opening the door and peeking his head out to ensure no one was looking. you carefully stepped out behind him, "thanks for dinner, sweetness.”

tagging moots: @oceandriveab @cameronwillow @bloodibambiidoll @rafesangelita @nemesyaaa @ilovefiction4lmen @cameronsprincess @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafeyscurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @cxrrodedcoffin @dollyfiles @littlelamy @fallbhind @sturnioloshacker @heartsforvin @jjslaybank @fae-of-prey @cybersunnie @zyafics

[sturniqlo]

COMFORT- SHY!MATT x SHY!READER

summary- matt loves how comfortable darling is around him, it turns him on at certain times (matt being a whole different person in bed.. yum)

cw: SMUT; dom(ish)!matt, p in v, making out, nipple play, oral!f receiving, creampie, FLUFF

an: thank you to this anon (also, this is my first ever shy!matt x darling smut fic, p.s i know the pajama bottoms are actually shorts but pretend they're underwear)

masterlist | shy!matt x shy!reader | join my taglist

------------------------------------------------

it was that point in their relationship where darling was getting very comfortable around matt-and vice versa-, not that she wasn't ever comfortable around him, just comfortable in a different light. she started doing things around him that she would only do when she was alone. one of those things is walk around in her underwear or bra.

"i'm gonna shower really quick." she said with her clothes and towel in hand. "okay, i'll be here." matt smiles as he sits against her headboard her fluffy blanket over his lap. matt being matt, puckers his lips signaling he wants a kiss. darling doesn't think anything of it, in all honestly she loves when he does that, it's because normal for them.

she even catches herself doing it sometimes. "mwah!" she intentionally says as she plants a kiss onto his lips, she can still taste the faint sherbet ice cream they shared. "don't take long, i'll miss you." he teases, squeezing her hip gently. "i'll try not to." she pecks his lips this time before making her way to the bathroom out in the hall.

as matt waited for her, scrolling through her streaming services on her tv, he got up and went down to the kitchen to get a snack. darling's parents were currently out on a camping trip since it was their anniversary weekend. with their permission, matt was able to come and stay over. they trusted matt and darling as they were once young and in love.

he opened the fridge grabbing two cold water bottles as he noticed her water bottle was almost empty. placing both of them on the island counter, matt opened the pantry and scanned the shelves. he saw the half eaten tray of her dad's strawberry danish and held back from grabbing a piece. her dad was serious about his danishes.

opting for some chips and a bit of chocolate chip cookies, he made his way back upstairs into her bedroom. as matt passed the bathroom, he heard the running water and her slight humming to the song she played on low volume.

matt returned back to the room and dug into the snacks he had brought up. still continuing to scroll through the streaming services, he didn't choose anything because he wanted to wait for darling and see what she would want to watch.

he looked around her room noticing small details that she had added. a new sonny angel hipper was added to the back of her flatscreen tv, the calendar matt had gifted her with pictures of them was hung up on her closet door, and a new pair of shoes was added to her shoe rack. he noticed every little detail.

it was about fifteen minutes later when darling walked through the door, her hair up in her designated hair towel. when matt realized what she was wearing, his breath hitched. she wore a white teddy bear tank paired with matching teddy bear boxer like underwear.

she had just started doing this around matt, walking around in her underwear. he cleared his throat as he caught himself watching her as she went into her closet to put her dirty clothes into her hamper. "find something to watch?" she said in a soft tone as she sat in her vanity across the room, watching him through the mirror as she combed her hair. "huh- oh- uh, no. i was uh- i was waiting for you. see what you wanted to watch."

she didn't realize his now worked up state. "you can put modern family back on." darling did her skincare, and lathered herself in her sweet scented lotion that drove matt crazy. he went to hulu to put the show, but he kept glancing back at darling who stood up to lather her legs.

the ends of her underwear rode up slightly and exposed the bottom of her ass cheeks. "shit." he muttered under his breath, shifting in the bed putting the blanket back over his lap. darling came closer to the bed and smiled at matt. "i feel so clean." she giggled, sitting on top of the blanket. "baby, are you not hot?" her dad had cranked up the heater before he left and it was really warm in the house.

"no- no, not really." he nervously chuckled, her scent engulfed his sense of smell. he looked down to play with his fingers, but caught eye of her plump thighs. "well i am. it's like ninety degrees in here." she fanned her tank top. matt stared at her and noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra either.

they were a couple of episodes in and darling ended up laying on her belly towards the end of the bed, which was the worst decision in matt's eyes. the curve of her ass was taunting him. the way it jiggled when she laughed or made a slight movement to get comfy, and the way her underwear rode up more.

darling didn't do it intentionally, in all honesty the thought of matt being worked up didn't cross her mind. she soon sat up and scooted to matt. "i'm bored." she told him, kneeling next to him running a hand through his hair. "what do you wanna do?" he said, his eyes raking up to her eyes and down to her lips.

"are you sure you're okay? you look pretty flustered." she furrows her eyebrows. "baby-" she gasped. "are you.. hard?" he groaned. "darling.. you're- you just look so good." she blushed at his words. "why didn't you tell me? i could've helped you all this time." she moved the blanket off of him and straddled his lap. matt was never one to just ask for sex- he was too shy to do so, he would give her little touches here and there or just stare at her.

"you know why." his hands came to rest on the silver of her skin where her tank top rode up. her hips slowly rolled against his. "baby." his threw his head slightly back. darling took the opportunity to kiss against his neck. matt got hold of her chin and connected their lips in a hungry kiss. "such a tease, hm? wearing your tiny panties around me." his finger dipped into the waistband of her underwear and let it slap against her skin. "mmph!" she whined against his lips.

"can i?" he pulled away from her, their lips red and swollen, his hands slipped under her tank top, looking up at her with pleading eyes. "please- yes." she nodded- she was now as equally as needy as him. matt wasted no time in taking her shirt off. her full, round tits on display for him. "so pretty, darling. so fucking pretty." he growled, taking her right tit into his mouth. his wet, pink tongue swirled around her nipple as he stared up at her, her eyes closed in pleasure.

"matt, oh- shit." her back arched, furthering herself more into matt. "love your tits, babe." he popped off of her nipple, moving onto the left one as his hand came up to knead the one he had in his mouth before.

after some time, he began to trail kisses around her chest up to her collarbone, up her neck eventually making it back to her lips. "lay on the bed f'me. c'mon." he patted the side of her thigh. darling came off of his thigh and laid next to him. matt hovered over her, pressing a few kisses to her neck. his kisses trailed down her body until he reached the hem of her underwear. "matt- please." she looked down at him.

"patience, darling." matt continued to press teasing kisses along her underwear. a wet patch began to form on her panties. "wet already?" he smirked, his finger prodding at the patch. "mhm- so wet for you." she rolled her hips wanting more. after pressing a kiss to her wetness, he hooked his fingers into the fabric and pulled them down. "lift up f'me." she lifted her hips so he'd be able to pull them down her legs.

he tossed the underwater somewhere on the bed, putting her legs over his shoulders. "look at that. pussys so pretty." matt was face to face with her glistening folds that we're aching to be touched. darling shivered when his breath fanned against her wetness.

pressing kisses along her inner thighs, so very close to her core, matt licked and nipped until she was a squirming wanted to be licked where she needed it most. "please, stop- stop teasing." she whined, gripped his hair to try and guide him to her pussy. "am i being mean, hm?" his tongue made very small contact, but quickly pulled away.

matt thought he had teased enough and dipped his tongue into her hole, licking a stripe up to her clit. "oh- yes!" she smiled at the feeling of his warm tongue on her. "so good, darling. taste so good." he lapped up her arousal. sucking on her lips, her back arched at the sensation- the suction around her lips and the vibrations of his muffled moans.

"just like that- fuck!" her hands fisted at the bed sheets as she didn't want to hurt matt's scalp. darlings moans and pants filled the room, her constant whines when matt would pull away for a split second. matt's hands trailed up her body as she continued to eat her out. his fingertips found her tits and he rolled her nipples in between his thumb and forefinger.

he soon pulled away due to the ache in his pants becoming too much. "baby, please let me- let me fuck you." he mumbled as he kissed up her body. he sucked a few marks onto her neck. darlings hands creeped into his hair. "mhm, yes. i want you in me." she whispered into his ear, his hips rolled against her. "yeah?" he bit down on her neck. "so bad, please." she held the sides of his face and stared at him. matt broke into a smug smile, leaning down to press their lips together.

as their lips and tongue clashed together, matt pulled down both his pants and underwear throwing them somewhere. he stroked his hard cock a couple of times, pulling away from the kiss. darling looked down to where his cock was and saw the red leaking tip, her pussy clenched around nothing. "ready f'me?" he said, slapping his dick against her clit. "yes, i'm ready." she nodded, biting her bottom lip.

matt lined his tip up with her wet hole and slowly pushed into her. darling moaned feeling the familiar stretch of matt's cock. "so tight." matt's jaw slacked at her warm walls squeezing him. once he bottomed out, he waited a few moments until she was ready for him to move.

"you can- you can move." she nodded, grabbing onto his shoulders. matt pushed out before thrusting back in making them both moan at the same time. "yes, just like that. faster, baby." darling whined. he accepted her wishes and picked up the speed.

the wet noises, along with their moans, now filled the air in her room. the occasional bang of the headboard against the wall was covered by the lewd noises. "feel you squeezing my cock, darling." he kissed just below her ear. "it's so good, matt. don't stop." her moans continued.

minutes later, matt pulled out causing her to whimper at the loss of contact. "matt- what- what are you doing." her glossy eyes looked up at him. "shh, it's okay, pretty." he pressed a kiss to her lips. "want you to flip over f'me. hands and knees, yeah?" matt knew that her being on all fours made it feel better and deeper for her. she nodded, her damp hair from her shower and the slight sweat made the baby hairs stick along her hairline.

matt got on his knees to give her space to flip over. once she was situated, matt got behind her and caressed the soft and plump skin of her ass. his hand grabbed his dick and ran it up and down her puffy, wet folds. "oh- matt." she arched her back as he circled his tip against her hole. matt didn't ram himself in, but he certainly didn't hold back. her high pitched moans and whimpers began again. only this time they were louder due to the new position and angle.

"f-fuck, you're so deep." she mumbled against the bed sheets. her once hands and knees position turned into her being face down ass up. "yeah? feel me so deep inside of your tummy, babe." his hands came to the side of her ass, holding her as he went in and out of her. "so fucking deep." she repeated.

darling felt the familiar pressure building up in her lower belly, so she began backing her ass into him. matt groaned when he realized what she was doing. "you close, hm?" he groaned, his right hand on her ass and the other on the back of her neck. "yes- yes, so close. don't stop." she cried, wanting her release.

"cum for me. cum all over my dick." matt began to do long, deep strokes. "shit- just like that." the movement in his thrusts brought her more to the edge. her fingers curled into the pillow as she mewled. "i'm- fuck, i'm cumming!" her legs trembled as she released. "that's it, baby. all over my dick, mhm." he thrusted a couple of more times before he felt the familiar sensation.

"babe- i'm close." he gently brought her up to where her back was pressed up against his chest. "cum in me. want all of it, plea- please." she cried, her hand coming behind his head as he nipped at her neck. "oh- shit." his cock twitched inside of her as he came. matt kept messily thrusting against her as he rode his high.

once she started to whine, he stopped as he knew that she had become sensitive. "it's okay, i've got you." he pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. slowly and carefully he laid her back down, still staying inside of her. "is it okay if i pull out? need to clean you up." she nodded. slowly, he pulled out watching as his cum leaked out of her. matt held back a groan at the sight.

"i'll be back, gonna get some tissue."

when matt finished cleaning her up, they showered together. "baby, c'mere. wanna braid your hair." matt patted his lap. "really? think you got it?" she teased. "i definitely improved since last time." darling sat in between his legs as he worked with her hair. "so it's right over left- no, no. right over left." he muttered to himself.

although he had to restart a couple of times, he finally finished it. matt took a picture and showed her. "alright, what do you think of my masterpiece?" he handed her his phone and wrapped his arms around her waist bringing her into his chest. "it's definitely something, i'll tell you that." she giggled. some parts were pretty loose and in some her hair was sticking out. "hey, i thought i did pretty good." he pouted, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"just gotta keep on practicing." she turned around and booped his nose.

[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

tag list: @pamzn - @jaedayy (was unable to tag) - @mylyus-blog (was unable to tag) - @vanillacupcakefrosting - @jjeonjjk7 - @darkuni63 - @jeonaraathedreamer - @urlovelily - @kissyfacekoo - @looneybleus - @btspurplesky - @seokseokjinkim - @doulcha - @sexytholland - @minyngrl-blog - @mizuumii (was unable to tag) @ali99eel - @loomipee @jkslvsnella - @tearykth - @iveivory - @lachimolalajeon - @mother2monsters - @junecat18 - @mayvalentine33 - @ttanniett - @elle0604 - @mageprincess7 - @laylasbunbunny - @ashthetic7 - @00frenchfries00 - @weareatthebadlands (was unable to tag) - @annafarrr -

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! Only love please! ♥

see ya soon, love, p.

[ellecdc]

pause to breathe

combination of two anon prompts: yapper reader who seeks out any of the boys and starts talking and then wonders if they find her terribly annoying and she thinks they must hate her combined with part two for Regulus x yapper!reader with the mooncalves

Regulus Black x fem!reader who updates him on the mooncalves [681 words]

p1 | p2

CW: yapper reader, longwinded speech and spiralling thoughts, run-on sentences, reader feels embarrassed

Pandora and Barty were currently busy procuring ingredients to brew truth potions for tonight’s veritaserum-or-dare, which meant that Regulus, Evan, and Dorcas were enjoying a rare quiet moment in the library. 

“All I’m saying is that out of all the poltergeists I’ve summoned, Peeves really is the least of our worries.” Evan mentioned boredly, earning him a snort of laughter from Dorcas.

“Remember Mammon?” She asked in a hushed tone.

“How could we forget?” Regulus responded. “He had first years strung up by their feet from the ceiling trying to get the galleons to fall out of their pockets.” 

“I’m so glad Barty knows how to obliviate; that would have been a nightmare.”

“We would have been expelled.” Dorcas pressed with a laugh, Evan simply nodded at her.

“Like I said, a nightmare.”

Regulus was saved from having to reply when he heard his name being called, albeit softly - this was the library, afterall.

“Regulus! Regulus, Regulus, Regulus.” You chanted your whole way over before sitting down heavily on the bench beside Regulus, breathless and nearly blowing the parchment right off the table from the speed at which you approached.

“It worked! The beast treats from Brood & Peck worked!”

It took Regulus’ brain a few moments to work out what it was that you were talking about when he remembered his trip to Brood & Peck last week. He wondered then if he should ask you how it went, but you carried on before he could.

“I’m sure that maybe, perhaps, the apples were a help, seeing as they’ve grown somewhat accustomed to my presence. But they came right up to me last night! I even got to scritch the space between one’s eyes! Have you ever pet a mooncalf, Regulus? They’re way softer than they look. It’s almost like a cat except the fur is a touch longer and silkier. Have you ever pet a bunny? Sort of like a bunny, but with thinner and longer hair…like a long-and-thin haired bunny. Oh! And! Last night among the mooncalves was one tiny kitten! Real little, too. I wonder if he got separated from his mama when I was feeding them tuna a few nights ago? None of the other cats were there again last night, just the little bubs. But it seems as though the mooncalves have adopted him! Oh, it was so cute! One was even grooming him! But I was so busy being excited about finally petting them and getting them to approach me that I forgot to take pictures. Maybe I can get pictures tonight? Hopefully the kitten is still there. Well, I guess it would actually be better if the kitten was with its mum, yeah? Maybe just one more night, just so I can get a picture, then hopefully he finds his mum again.” 

You paused, likely to breathe, and seemed only then to register the fact that Regulus hadn’t been sitting at this table alone.

“Oh.” You murmured quietly, moving your horrified gaze from Evan and Dorcas towards Regulus beside you, another “oh” escaping you when you seemed to realise how long you just spent shouting about mooncalves to Regulus Black in front of his friends. 

“Oh my gods.” You nearly whispered. “I’m so sorry. Merlin, this is so embarrassing; I am so embarrassing. I’m so sorry!” 

Nearly as quick as you came did you stand and leave, fleeing from the library without even sparing a backwards glance at your potions partner. 

“I’d be worried she doesn’t get enough air to her head. Merlin.” Evan commented as he finally turned back towards the table from where he’d been watching you leave. “Do you think her brain works that quickly when she reads? She must finish books so fast.” 

Regulus simply smiled to himself as he packed up his notes and books. 

“I’ll catch up with you later, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, Black.” Dorcas drawled teasingly as Regulus shouldered his book bag and exited the library, venturing off in the direction you had just moments before in hopes of finding out more about last night’s mooncalves and their little kitten friend.

[gallusrostromegalus]

I did not care at all for Aizen Sosuke when I first read bleach. I found him boring, and worst, unthreatening.

So it's pretty jarring for me that I have been OBSESSED with him in your AU. I'm rotating him at great speed

Walt Disney was a jackass who was flat-out wrong about a lot of very important things, but he employed a great many geniuses of storytelling, and there's a piece in Disney Animation: The Illusion of Life by Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnson that discusses a key feature of Disney Studios Character Design:

"Of all characters, villains are the most fun to develop because they make everything else happen. They are the instigators, and always more colorful than the Hero. They may be dramatic, awesome, insidious or semi-comic, but they MUST be appealing. Almost any story becomes innocuous if all the evil is eliminated, but we do not necessarily gain strength by being frightening. we want a character that will hold the audience and entertain them, even if it's a Chilling Type of Entertainment."

And I've found that to be an important principle of character design, especially the kind of canon restructuring I do.

Aizen had a LOT going for him in canon- for all of Bleach's other faults, Aizen's conspiracy and THE REVEAL are spectacularly constructed and executed. I legit screamed and threw my mug across my dorm room when I read it in the manga the first time. He's also conventionally attractive and the translations I was reading gave him the speech patterns of Every Douchebag In Your 101 Political Theory Who Thinks He's The Smartest Man In The Room, which made him a terrific combination of Unfortunately Charming, Menacingly Competent and Engagingly Obnoxious.

...But he falls flat in a few key places.

Aizen's reasoning could be MUCH more sympathetic- After all, he is RIGHT. Soul Sciety does suck ass and all the options kind of suck. Who designs a universe like that? An asshole who needs killing, that's who. The best kind of Unhinged Madmen are the kind who spell out their reasoning and you realize that there but for the grace of Not Having Super Powers Go I. Canon!Aizen makes a few Good Rhetorical Points, but seems to lack any personal connection to his all-consuming plan.

Another issue is that nearly every villain with A Plan has a clear end goal AND a lot of the menace is drawn from the fact that the plan *could* work. Aizen's plan for betraying the court guard and then killing them off before proceeding into the Royal Realm to Kill God sorta falls apart when it's clear he planned to use pretty much all his accumulated forces dealing with the court guard and doesn't seem to have a plan for the Even More Powerful Royal Guard, let alone God. For how meticulously planned the rest of the plot is, the last two VERY IMPORTANT steps are just handwaved.

So I sat down and started with the plot beats Aizen MUST hit, and tried to imagine what kind of guy would he have to be to get there? And I came up with this:

Sosuke Aizen is a fundamentally good man with genuinely good intentions who is really trying his best for the whole world.

Think about it- what lengths would you NOT go to if you think you found a genuine shot at Fixing Everything Wrong With The World Forever? We all talk about killing Hitler if we found an actual Time Machine- would you do it if your only chance was when he was a baby? Would you kill an infant if it meant you could stop World War II before it starts? Of course you would! One small life for over 75 million? You'd be insane not to! What if you found out that you could prevent the future extinction of Humanity by killing your best friend today? Ten Billion lives? For theirs? It's simple, really- Hell, it's your Moral Obligation to do that if you were SURE!

-And Aizen IS sure. He is absolutely, totally, completely sure that He Can Save Everyone if he just gets rid of that idiot sitting on the throne of heaven. He's seen the plans! He knows where the gate of heaven is! It's So SIMPLE he just has to get inside, and he knows EXACTLY how to do it, yes it'll be hard and there will be... unpleasant parts but. IT. WILL. WORK.

He is of course, insane.

Aizen didn't have One Bad Day that set him irrevocably on the path of madness. It was a succession of catastrophic disappointments and realizations that he was living in a fundamentally irrational world that made irrational thinking look sane. The Catastrophe that befell his family, working for the central 46 and later the court guard and seeing how the organizations were inept to the point of abuse or corrupt to the core, learning that The Actual House Of God is a place he can just? Go to? Anyone would start thinking you were just a handful of white lies and homicides away from Fixing Everything, Forever.

Not only is Aizen insane, he is nowhere near as smart as he thinks. He is smart- He does have a knack for being able to guess just what will spur someone to action or make them recoil in fear. But mostly he gets extremely lucky Many, Many, MANY times. On some level I think it gives him Confirmation Bias that this is what he's supposed to be doing. Aizen is also nowhere near as smart as (nearly) everyone else thinks he is. His bizarrely good luck makes him look like a hyper-competent genius when really it was really the catastrophic failure of Soul Society as a Society that let a merely mediocre conspirator to evade detection for so long.

Being that he is at most, mediocre, he had to have Outside Help, specifically Gin's emotional support and Tousen's Competence- and if there's a part of the fic that stays true to canon, it's this.

Gin is Aizen's emotional rock in Canon. He's the ONE guy that Aizen genuinely trusts, and considers his 'my only real partner' in his scheme. There's more than one occasion in the manga where Aizen more or less asks Gin "Is this actually a good idea?" and Gin backs him up every time.

...Which is more than a bit at odds with Gin's later stated goal of "I did all this to kill you at your most vulnerable to protect rangiku" . It never rang true to me. So I started thinking why on EARTH Gin would be backing Aizen up like that, and realized there was a hole in my world building that he slotted into nicely :)

On the other hand, the entire fic was started because I didn't like how Tousen's character arc ended, so you can imagine how much he's changed.

But in canon, TOUSEN DOES ALL THE FUCKING WORK.

Lab work? Tousen.

Supervising the arrancar directly? Tousen

Actually getting victims for the Hogyoku experiments? Tousen.

Altering all the archives to keep Aizen's plot hidden? Tousen.

Sending all the Orders allegedly from the central 46? Tousen.

Making sure Unohana believes Aizen's fake body is real? Tousen.

Managing all the day-to-day operations at Las Noches? Tousen.

There's even this little exchange, which is Tousen's first appearance in the Manga:

Aizen establishes this entire meeting is a little fake-out a few pages later with "now isn't that a convenieint time for the alarm to go off?"

which makes him look like he's investigating, but he's also going "Good job on disrupting everyone with the alarm Gin!" It's ballsy of Aizen to do a check-in on his plan with his main nemesis in the room, but also his style.

I think the same thing is happening here with Tousen. To make sure Ukitake wouldn't raise a huge fit about the proposed execution of his beloved lieutenant, which might fuck everything up for Aizen because Ukitake is one of like, three people Yamamoto will listen to (sort of).

...So he had Tousen poison Ukitake to keep him out of the way.

ALL. THE. FUCKING. WORK. It's even in his name! The characters for "Tousen" Refer to a legendary scholar the emperor of China sent out to discover the secret of immortality- only to kill the scholar when he returned with that secret. The character for "Kaname" means "Necessary/Vital/keystone" or "to organize/take account of". His name LITERALLY means "Scholar who is essential for the plan (that we're going to kill later)"

Another thing Kubo did well in Bleach: his name game is Off The Fucking Charts.

-but I digress.

In AEIWAM, it's much the same only this time Aizen sees this very dangerous witness who is immune to his illusions but also extremely snart and capable young man and instead of risking being caught out by the one damn guy who can see right through him, opts to Curse Kaname into doing as Aizen says, and doing all the fucking work of this conspiracy against his will.

It's Not Nice, but Aizen genuinely thinks he's doing Kaname a favor by subjecting him to this degrading and incredibly painful servitude- I mean, Aizen's only other option was to Kill him to keep his silence, and isn't it wonderful that you get to help fix the universe? You're the one always going on about Justice, I don't understand why you didn't jump at the chance to mete out some Divine Justice.

An Excerpt from the captain's meeting in between the Massacre that made the visored and Zaraki's arrival, when Kaname realizes Yamamoto is 100% serious about his promotion to captain of the 9th and goes to throw up in the garden. Aizen offers to go check on him while Unohana very politely reads the general the riot act:

---

"You broke your toy Aizen." Kaname coughs.

"…I really am sorry for running you ragged like this. I really shouldn't have gotten so mad about you hiding the the hogyoku- it was very petty of me." The bastard sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his face, entirely genuine.

Kaname stayed on his hands and knees, weaving slightly as another wave of nausea flowed through him, powered by disgust and rage.

"How about this- I've got a lot coming up with the new job, training Gin and disposing of Kiganjo- So how about I promise to not give you any orders for a while? You will have to keep our arrangement a secret and not interfere, of course, but other than that, you're free to do as you please for- a year and a day is traditional isn't it? No, that's not going to heal by then- Oh, would you look at that!"

Kaname didn't have the strength to offer his usual rebuttal that he won't look at anything, ever. The sides of his head tingle like his skul was being pressed between two enormous hands made of static electricity.

"It's 11:11! Alright, I won't give you any Orders until 11:11 am on November 11th, 1911. That's easy to remember! What do you think?" Aizen continued cheerfully, patting his back and the Curse nails.

"…I can't." Kaname groaned. He could scream if he had the energy, but due to Aizen's Illusions, nobody would hear him. "I actually physically can't think. Please…"

"Of course! You really are such a help to me, it would be a shame to lose you. I'll even amend our contract, so you don't get paranoid-" There was a sizzling sound and a new stroke of hot pain up Kaname's spine as Aizen did something to the wretched Bakudo. "There. No compulsions for eleven years and a day. What do you say?"

Kaname grimaced, but dropped his head. Save the energy to fight another day. "…thank you, Aizen-sama."

"Good man! Let's get you on your feet." Aizen beamed, putting his glasses back on and offering him an arm.

---

He genuinely thinks that he's doing everyone a huge favor and if they don't get it it's because they're just not smart enough, but it's alright, He's a Benevolent God and they'll appreciate all his hard work the next time around :)

Aizen is a man who is FULL of joy. He loves what he does! He actively takes pleasure in it! And I think that's something that REALLY delivers in terms of sympathy AND horror for him. Who *Wouldn't* have a great time actually fixing the universe? He's a good man who enjoys doing good works, and this is the greatest work of all!

It also Delivers on the Horror when I get to write the deliciously fun scenes where Aizen is Elbows-deep in a novel War Crime and waxing poetic about how GREAT this is, or being confused why the people around him are reacting with fear. Don't you want to make everything better too?

[alexmasonistired]

Id like to start this off by saying that this is an absolutely lovely post; thank you OP for making it. Now I would like to share our own experience with the education system in general, and what our state called- “Critical minds classes”.

Now if you don’t know what that is- it’s a thing in our state where 30 kids are chosen by the state to go into these special critical minds classes. We in particular were put in critical minds math and let me tell ya- IT FUCKING SUCKED.

All the class was, was us sitting in a certain spot that we could not move from the ENTIRE OVER AN HOUR THAT WE WERE IN THERE in SILENCE while working on these list of MathXL links. And if you know how MathXL works- yeahhh it was absolutely awful. Some of the worst parts of that class though, was that we had to keep our bags up front the entire time and we wouldn’t get anything because we wasn’t allowed out of our seat, and worst of all- the teacher that lead the class, always seemed like she just didn’t wanna be there. She felt intimidating to us so we never were able to approach her with our getting insanely nervous. She reminded us of the bodies mother with the way she looked so that made it worse. (Also edit: I just remembered- I believe for a good chunk of the first half of the semester she was watching our computers??)

Btw- remeber those check lists of MathXL links that I mentioned earlier??? Yeah. There was like- 18-20 of those links on these checklists that we used to have a month to complete! But then it was shortened to only a WEEK because the semester was ending and she needed to get grades in ig.

We had a whole ass panic attack infront of our history teacher becuase we were on list SIX, and there was TEN of these things to do. And I swear it felt like each list just had more links- we fucking hated it. I believe we finally made it to list eight before we eventually gave up and let the burn out take us over and just wrote in our diary the entire period. Except for the days we had quizzes and did blookets, which was hardly ever. At that point we were just SO fucking done of just not being able to understand ANYTHING put in front of us no matter how hard we tried. We just barely passed that class with a D.

I also remeber that we went to summer school after seventh grade because our grades were so low our teachers didn’t know if they could pass us. It was the same with in fifth grade, the teachers were nervous to let us go into middle school because we were just barely passing. Our grades were that bad.

We got to this point(the whole critical minds math thing and giving up,) because ever since like- second grade, we had been having massive trouble with math and grades and over all just confidence in general. Especially in the math field.

I remember we began cheating on a lot of our assignments and tests in second grade because our confidence had been bumped down that badly, and we just couldn’t really understand it. Or at least I believe that we couldn’t understand it- I’ll get into second grade math in another post. Regardless, we ended up sizing cheating as a last ditch effort a lot in school because we got to a point where we felt like we didn’t have a choice.

We would try so hard at something in math, only for our brain not being able to remember it, how to do it, and for it to also not make sense in our brain. It absolutely crushed us one day when we ended up in an argument with the father one day over another bad math grade and we yelled: “Is my best not enough not for you!?” And he just yelled back: “NO!” That day crushed us. The father always says that we just weren’t applying ourselves enough, which hurt even MORE because we WERE applying ourselves more, we WERE trying, and as hard as we could too! But we can only do so much, but it honestly seems like the parents, especially the father, just cannot realize that. And it hurts us, so much.

We always saw our friends in school absolutely soar and it was fucking awful how they would be getting into honors classes, getting to go up a grade or even graduate early, and then we would be sitting here in what is supposed to be an “extra help” class when in reality it didn’t help us at all. Due to our mental disabilities/Illnesses, we weren’t able to learn like the other kids were able too. All we’ve ever wanted was to be smart enough to be able to fly through school like our friends, study efficiently, and get our diploma normally like any other kid, but no. We didn’t have that experience and we never will due to our life and the way that our brain works and we fucking hate it.

There was also of times where we felt stupid, useless, and pathetic for not being able to keep up with our allistic, and non-ADHD-having peers. It especially was rough considering that that was the standard our parents set us too all the time, and we just could not reach the standards that she and the father set for us.

We tried tutoring a few times, but it honestly didn’t help much either. We never ever got the help that we needed growing up and I know that we never will get the help we need. And I hate it. So many people failed us when it came to education and I look back and can’t help but feel bad for us. We were just a young, neurodivergent kid with a dissociative disorder along with many other disorders alone with it, and a complete mess too. A mess that no one really bothered to help with. It was awful.

What we needed back then was one-on-one assistance with someone who could understand us and what was going on with us, we never got that. And that was because everyone around us failed us. Either failing to recognize our needs, or just not thinking that we needed them because it wasn’t super duper obvious that we did.

Kinda fucked up that we all coo and sympathize with "former gifted kids" but never talk about the students who had to stay late after school or over the summer for remedial classes/clubs, who struggled to get above a C, who were given up on or punished. Who tried so hard to understand or just couldn't. Who were grouped with the "stupid kids" (a classmate called us that in remedial math btw)

Autistic kids and adhders who can't relate to their gifted peers and are constantly alienated by them. Kids who struggled in school due to dealing with a chronic or mental illness or physical/learning/developmental disability. Those of us who have had to drop out of highschool or college. Kids who worked so hard and wanted to be seen as smart, but never were. Who watched as their peers seem to fly by them in school, while they were left behind. Who were bullied and put down by those in the gifted and honors classes. Whose confidence was absolutely destroyed by education.

I love you all and I'm so sorry the school system failed you. I'm sorry you weren't properly accommodated and given the education you deserved. I'm sorry people put you down for something that they never had to fight for.

[tpwk-formula1]

Hi! I love the pizzeria so much <333 I was wondering if I could get a thin crust pizza (sainz!reader) with red sauce, shallots, gorgonzola, egg, and ricotta. For a drink i’d like diet pepsi and redbull. I would like dessert & to be served by Lando <3 thank you!!!

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

Lando x Sainz!reader

AN: IM BACKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!! Get ready bitches! Better buckle up and get ready to join the new and improved Whore house! While I cannot promise a 100% perfect schedule I do intend to do my best to follow the schedule! I hope everyone had an amazing holiday season and is finally able to relax a bit!

TW: unprotected sex, PinV, oral (f receiving), quickie, multiple orgasms, overstimulation

WC: 1.6K

thin crust brothers best friend red sauce rough sex shallots "I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you" gorgonzola "Are you always this fucking loud?" egg "Why so needy?" ricotta "I love your voice but it's always my favorite when you're moaning my name" diet pepsi biting red bull hickeys dessert yes served by Lando Norris

Y/N POV

"Lando come on," I whisper while pulling his arm towards the back of the vacation home we would be staying in for the New Years.

This year my entire family has decided to join Lando and I's friends on our annual trip to Dubai for New Years and they have successfully managed to give Lando and I absolutely no alone time.

It's New Years Eve early in the morning and I woke up to find out my family has decided to go play a round of gold while the girls went to the shops.

"Why so needy?" Lando asks with a small smirk making me whine and continue pulling him towards our room.

"Lando I haven't gotten you alone other than to sleep since we got here and before that we were in England with your family, I need you!" I say while pulling him into our room and pushing him onto the bed.

"Please baby," I whine climbing into his lap and pulling his mouth to mine. When I feel Lando's arms wrap around my waist and rest his hands on my hips giving me a rough squeeze I start grinding down into Lando's crotch making both of us gasp and moan out from the stimulation neither of us had gotten in far too long.

"Fuck," Lando groans out when I start trailing my kisses from his mouth down to his neck where I allow my teeth to sink into the side of his neck making him roll his eyes back from the pleasure.

I leave a small hickey behind before I sit back up slightly and pull Lando's shirt off of his body.

"Fuck, you're so hot," I groan when I finally see the tanned chest I've been missing.

"We gotta be quick," Lando groans pulling me back in for a kiss while he makes quick work of taking off my shirt which is actually just one of Lando's Quadrant hoodies.

Once my bare chest is revealed to Lando he quickly attaches his mouth to one of my stiffened nipples giving it a little suck before sinking his teeth down making me throw my head back with a moan.

"Oh fuck," I moan when I feel Lando soothing out the slight sting by running his tongue along the freshly bitten skin.

While Lando is using his mouth to tease my nipples I reach my hands between our bodies and work to unbutton the buttons of his jeans and unzipping them just enough to sneak my hand inside and pull out his already throbbing member.

"Fuck baby," Lando gasps pulling his mouth away from my tits only to to go and burry his face into my neck finding my sweet spot with no problems before bitting down and leaving his teeth marks behind.

"Lando!" I chastize even though I had just done the same to him.

"What can I say, I love marking you up. Let everyone know I own you." Lando says with a smirk making me jokingly roll my eyes before pulling him by the neck back in for another kiss.

Lando softly pushes me off his lap and tells me to finish getting undressed making me rush to finish pulling off my sweats and soaked through thong while Lando did the same with his jeans and boxers.

Once Lando and I were naked he pulls me into him by my hips before planting his mouth back onto mine. I moan softly into the kiss while Lando lifts me into his arms letting me wrap my legs aground his waist where he walks up back to the bed and ,says me down, Once my back softly hits the mattress Lando brings his mouth back down to mine where he starts trailing kisses from my mouth down to my neck where I can feel him leaving a few light hickeys behind before he finally brings his mouth close to where I've been waiting all week to feel him.

"Please Lan. I need you so bad," I whine out making Lando smirk softly at my begging.

"Quite the desperate little thing aren't ya," Lando says with a smirk only making a small while in protests and trying to pull him closer by the grip I have on his curls but to no aveil I have to wait until Lando brings his mouth to where I need him and when he finally licks a long soft strip from my dripping hole to my throbbing clit the sound I let out can only be explained as animalistic.

"Yes," I cry out when I feel Lando start lapping at my clit with more intent.

"Fuck, you taste so good," Lando groans into my clit making me moan loudly at the new vibrations being sent straight to my clit.

"Lando, I'm gonna cum," I cry out when I feel him plunge two thick fingers deep into my pussy.

"Go on, cum for me pretty girl," Lando says fucking his fingers into me harder while stille using his tongue to tease my clit.

I can't help the loud moan that leaves my mouth when I start to cum all over Lando's fingers and mouth.

"Oh fuck, fuck Lan, so good," I breath while squirming my hips away from his relentless mouth, feeling the overstimulation start to take over just a bit.

"Lan, too much," I cry out trying to push his away softly but it only makes Lando chuckle a little before holding my hips down harder allowing himself to continue to feast on my pussy without fear of me being able to squirm away.

When Lando has finally got his fix he slowly pulls away from my overly sensitive pussy before bringing his slick covered mouth to mine and planting a wet kiss.

I let out a softly moan when I taste myself on Lando's lips which only makes him giggle softly.

"I thought you said we have to be quick," I tease even though I was not complaining in any capacity,

"I couldn't help it. I haven't gotten a waste is a week," Lando whispers whichs make me smirk softly.

"Why so needy," I teasingly mock the words Lando used on my earlier. Lando just cocks and eyebrow before pinching my hip as a teasing warning.

Lando grabs his hard cock in his hand and runs it through my folds before pushing deep into my pussy making me cry out at the feeling of being filled up.

"Oh fuck Lando," I cry out when I feel Lando start rocking his hips into mine bringing in just enough stimulation for me to feel him filling me up but not enough to bring me close to an orgasm.

"I love your voice but it's always my favorite when you're moaning my name," Lando mumbles against my lips before he starts thrusting his hips in and out of my pussy making me cry out even louder at the stimulation.

Once Lando can tell my pussy has adjusted to his size he starts thrusting his hips harder and faster making me scream out.

"Fuck, so fucking tight," Lando grunts keeping the same rough pace.

"Fuck," I cry out when I can feel another orgasm starting to build deep within my stomach.

"Are you always this fucking loud?" Lando teases only fucking into me harder knowing how close I am to falling over the edge.

"Lando!" I moan out loudly only making Lando smirk given me proving him right.

"I'm gonna cum," I cry out making Lando snake a hand between our bodies and start playing with my clit throwing me over the edge with a cry.

"Fuck, feels so good," Lando grunts letting his hips shutter a bit before burying deep and filling my cunt with his cum.

"Fuck," Lando groans while riding his own pleasure out before slowly slipping out of my pussy and climbing out of bed after placing a quick kiss on my cheek.

When Lando returns only a minute later he now has a pair of clean boxers on and a warm rag he starts softly wiping me down before discarding it somewhere on the other side of the room. He quickly picks me up and brings me into the bathroom before sitting me on the toilet and letting me do my business while he left me alone.

When he returned I was standing in front of the mirror naked brushing my teeth and finally allowing myself to get ready for the rest of the day.

"I love your family, but fucking hell, that was far too long," Lando says while wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling my back into his chest.

"I agree," I say with a soft smile while I watched Lando through the mirror unwrap his arms and grab the clothes he had grabbed while he left me do my business.

Lando helps me dress in the outfit he picked out which consisted of a pair of HIS favorite jeans on me and a simple cropped baby tee.

We both notice the matching marks on both of our necks but neither of us choose to do something to cover them knowing sooner or later someone was bound to see them, might as well speed it up.

We barely make it into the hallway when my brother rounds the corner.

"Ew... and cover that before papa sees that and kills the boy," Carlos said while shaking his head but still placing a soft kiss on the top of my head. Something he's done since I was born.

"Love you too, loser." I laugh while shaking my head and walking into the common area where I find my mom chastising my dad for not wearing sunscreen. 

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 17: The One About All the Hot Air

Oh, hey, hey, hey – what is that over there?

No, not that –

That!

Ah, fuck.

Is that what I think it is?

Yeah, yeah, it looks like some sort of hot air balloon.

Ugh, it’s that fucking wannabe Wizard! Get that manipulative shit-fuck outta here!

Seriously, don’t let it set foot on land. It’s not welcome on this side of Oz.

Someone release the flying monkeys! Like, now. Knock it out of the sky.

Wait, I thought the Wizard liked green. This weirdo has a red balloon.

Bitch, I didn’t say it was the Wizard; I said it was a wannabe Wizard.

Oh, no wonder it’s steering that balloon like a fucking clown.

Hell, I don’t even think we need the monkeys. That idiot is going to crash and burn itself straight into the glass walls of the Emerald Palace.

Well, you know what they say when you start throwing stones in a glass house…

It is slightly amusing (and a tad concerning) to me that children are always led to believe that the villain of “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” is that bitch of a Witch of the West when the worst character traits are actually portrayed by the Wizard himself. And, by “worst character traits,” I mean that he was a master manipulator who conned an entire city into believing he held some form of great power.

Did you know that in the original story the Emerald City wasn’t really that green? Sure, it was made from green glass and emeralds, but the Wizard required everyone to wear green-colored glasses so that everything appeared greener than it actually was. Weird, that. And, even more weird, people bought it! “Here, put these glasses on and you’ll see everything exactly the way I want you to see it.”

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m fully aware “The Wonderful Wizard of Oz” is a work of fiction, but the idea that people can be easily manipulated – especially by someone with “power” – is not fiction.

That’s what today’s piece of “hot air” is about – fandom manipulation and the power of suggestion. And who better than to manipulate an entire fandom than the media? It’s unfortunate that I have to give the media power in this story – and even more unfortunate that I have to give it to rag-mags and social media – but the reality is information is power, regardless of whether it’s misinformation. In fact, MIT Sloan did a study in 2018 demonstrating how false information spreads through social media, namely, Twitter, six times faster than true information. Disturbing, right? I don’t even want to know what the going rate for misinformation is in 2025.

And, of course, since I opened today’s story with a visit to the Land of Oz, we may as well take a day trip over to Australia. Remember how I told you Australia deserved an entry of its own? Well, this is it. No, not really. I did say this was a day trip, not a sleep-over, so it’s not going to be chucked full of shiny bracelets or ways to “keep a good girl down.” It’s just our starting point today.

In my first entry, I briefly described what brought me into this fandom. It was something Luke said – and not really what he said, but how he said it – that left me intrigued. He was being interviewed on the Bowral red carpet by “Gretchen from the Philippines.” Yes, that’s literally how she introduced herself! Could I instead refer to the nice lady by her real name (Gretchen Fullido)? Sure, but “Gretchen from the Philippines” is far more fun. Plus, it sounds kind of whimsical. Any ways, Gretchen (from the Philippines) asked Luke if, “in real life,” he’d support friends-to-lovers. Luke’s response was, well, a bit jumbled, which was what sparked my curiosity because his previous answers that day were, for the most part, articulate: “I would – I would support friends – I feel like it’s not something that – that I have in my li – that I resonate with – that I’ve experienced. But, you know, if my – if my friends wanted to explore a relationship with one their friends, go for it. I’ll support it.”

Something in the way Luke answered that question was like suddenly being able to see the forest for the trees. At that moment, I was convinced Luke had always been in love with Nicola, and everything else that went on during that particular red-carpet event (and thereafter) simply christened the USS Lukola. However, that comment by Luke – and a subsequent one he made in New York – would result in the addition of a lot of trees to our enchanted forest.

Now – I apologize – we need to borrow a hot air balloon, preferably one that can travel through time, and jump forward to November 5, London-time. I promise, we will return to Oz momentarily.

Oh, fuck.

What now?

That ridiculous faux Wizard is right behind us. I thought I told you to send in the monkeys!

Dammit, you said we didn’t need them! I left those fuckers back in Oz.

Well, umm, I think we might need them now.

Why??

Uhh, do you see those four-legged beasts on the ground chasing our balloon?

Oh, you mean those coyote-like creatures?

Yeah, but we’re not in the Americas – and those ain’t coyotes…

Ah, here we are: November 5, Claridge’s, London. This was the evening Nicola attended the Harper’s Bazaar Women of the Year awards. We’re only stopping in real quick to steal a piece of the speech Nicola gave that evening. Okay, got it! Let’s get the fuck out of here!

The part of the speech I wanted to share was this: “I did a six-month press tour for Bridgerton, the show which I love, and I’m so proud of. The amount of inappropriate questions I got asked about my appearance, about my relationship…”

Hold up. Relationship? What relationship?

Did she say “relationship” or “relationships?”

Does it fucking matter?

Well, I guess not. But what does it mean?

I could tell you what I think it means… Wait a hot-air-balloon-minute – where the fuck have you taken us? I told you we needed to go back to April 21, Aussie-time. This looks like Soho in January.

Shit, sorry. Let me fix that. Here we go…

>>> 

Umm, hey, where’s that weird little red Wizard? I swear it was just behind us…

Eh, probably got stuck in Soho, hahaha. Guess it missed its exit.

Do you think that’s a good idea?

Yeah, sure. It’ll be fine…

We’ve returned to April 21, Bowral, Australia. Now, at this point in the timeline, World Tour interviews were already well underway. In fact, the first two parts of EmEdits on YouTube are entirely pre-Australia interviews, making up roughly 6 ½ hours of screen time. I’m not the least bit surprised that “Gretchen from the Philippines” asked Luke what his thoughts were on “real life” friends-to-lovers. The chemistry between Luke and Nicola was hard to ignore.

The Australian red carpet also introduced the hand holding, which – if we took another magical mystery tour over to May 9, Italy – Nicola and Luke agreed was a sign of “love.” I suppose I could buy the excuse that one or both had so much anxiety they needed the other’s hand to remain calm on the red carpet. But, nah, I wouldn’t buy that at all – for one very specific reason. When Luke and Nicola were seen leaving (I believe) the Milton Park Country House on April 23, Luke instinctively reached for Nicola’s hand as they were descending the steps. Why? This reflex by Cool Hand Luke was as natural as a pregnant woman touching her stomach. I ask again – why?

There’s only one answer.

It’s the answer that fits with the Claddagh ring. It’s the answer that fits with the side jaunt to Galway. It’s the answer that fits with their natural chemistry, the hand holding, the canned “shared experience” and “unique relationship” responses, the playful sexual innuendos. It’s the answer that fits with Luke’s “the best foundation for love is friendship” bracelet. It’s the answer that fits with Nicola’s remark about “[t]he amount of inappropriate questions I got asked…about my relationship…” It’s the only fucking answer that makes sense.

But, the real kicker is, why don’t people believe that is the answer?

Why is it so hard to believe that Luke and Nicola could be in a real-life relationship?

That’s easy – because the Man Behind the Curtain told us so.

Who is the Man Behind the Curtain? Well, that’s also easy. It’s collectively the rag-mags and the social media creators on the prowl for a following. It’s the spread of misinformation at its worst and it’s so incredibly easy to do with, say, a pair of green-colored glasses.

Like I said, “…put these glasses on and you’ll see everything exactly the way I want you to see it.”

There was one major plot twist that came out of the World Tour, and you already know what that is. The seed was planted with a New Year’s Eve kiss, fertilized with blurry pictures, a compulsory hallway hug, and copycat photos, and encouraged to grow with a bit of junk news and a lot of social media innuendo. Now, I’m not saying the video and photographic evidence that was presented was fabricated; I’m simply suggesting the narrative that came out that evidence was skewed. The media, namely, social media creators, pushed us to plant Lutonia trees while Luke’s actions (i.e., not acknowledging the existence of Lutonia) told us to “pay no attention to the Man Behind the Curtain.”

Uh, so, what you’re saying is we shouldn’t have left that wannabe Wizard in Soho?

Ah, shit! I forgot about that fucker!

The unfortunate thing about the Lutonia narrative was that it was bolstered by insinuation that Luke would never be interested in Nicola. Now, whether these remarks were deliberately planted, or they were simply seedpods carried away by a storm, they were not overlooked by Lukolas – or Nicola. In fact, Nicola herself brushed upon it in her Harper’s Bazaar speech: “The amount of inappropriate questions I got asked about my appearance…” Yes, I’m referring to the suggestion that Luke preferred “brunettes” over “blondes.” Somehow this narrative was conveniently supported by the existence of – lo and behold! – the brunette “friend of a friend” Antonia, who happened to be slender. Again, whether it was intentional or not, the push by, initially, social media creators (and later gossip rags) to link Luke to Antonia inadvertently called the blonde in our story – Nicola – fat. I refuse to dance around that word because it is exactly what this disgusting narrative implied when it chose to compare Antonia to Nicola. Regardless of whether these gossipmongers “corrected” themselves by replacing “thin” with “brunette” and “fat” with “blonde,” the implication was that Luke would never be interested in Nicola because she had thick blonde hair. This was incredibly upsetting and confusing to many Lukolas because it was contrary to Luke’s behavior towards Nicola throughout the World Tour (and in Bridgerton behind-the-scenes clips).

I decided months ago that Luke was incredibly transparent. And, by that, I mean he’s terrible at keeping secrets. Luke himself admitted his “tell” to this was pulling at his ear – now go watch the World Tour with that information in mind. It’ll give you something to do, at the very least. Luke’s sincerity is also why the blonde versus brunette nonsense just doesn’t take flight for me. Any ways, as I hinted at earlier, Luke’s comments on the Bowral red carpet and his later comments in New York City about friends-to-lovers would – again, unfortunately – give the Man Behind the Curtain ammunition to debunk any real-life relationship between Luke and Nicola. Luke was quickly labeled as being “…dismissive of something ever happening between him and Nicola…” Those are literally the words The Tab used in an article dated May 22 to explain Luke and Nicola’s differing commentary about real-life friends-to-lovers. In fact, the article is titled, “Luke Newton has revealed the reason he’d never date Bridgerton co-star Nicola Coughlan.” Oddly – but not really given the source – Luke never actually said he would never date Nicola. But that fact didn’t stop it from becoming a theme of the World Tour – Luke didn’t believe in friends-to-lovers therefore he would never date Nicola – even though, by the end of the tour, Luke’s stance on this had seemingly changed. That’s not to say the rag-mags misquoted Luke – they didn’t – but the narrative they coiled around his words attempted to shut down the idea that Luke and Nicola would ever date in real life because Luke wasn’t interested. But what Luke was saying was that he believed in love-at-first sight. “I actually don’t think friends-to-lovers is something that happens in my life. If I meet someone, I know immediately.” Now, take that statement with the fact that Luke has repeatedly stated he remembers everything about the moment he met Nicola.

The above examples of gossip and innuendo are simply par for the course. The media manipulates facts all the time – whether it be through social media chatter or rag-mags putting their own spin on ordinary commentary – but this type of manipulation is not what puts the fandom in danger of itself. In fact, most of the gossip and innuendo that took root during the World Tour would have dissipated almost immediately after it ended – if it hadn’t been for Papsmear.

Yeah. That was disastrous.

Come to think of it, it was awfully convenient, too, don’t you think?

Absolutely. And you know what else was convenient? That little wannabe Wizard was –

Oh, yeah, I heard that, too! That clown has been trying to hand out green-colored glasses ever since!

Yep. Tried to give me a pair and I told it to go fuck itself and its little glass cat, too. I mean, they weren’t even name brand glasses. Fake ass, bitch.

All jesting aside, if you haven’t noticed already, I do, on occasion, use my writing to call out the fandom, usually as a whole. I mean, we are in this together, right? Actually, no; we ceased being Collectively Delulu after a few unsavory characters were bitten by the Hunter’s Moon and followed Nicola through the streets of New York and London. There was a major – and rather unexpected – shift in the fandom when the rabid Jakolas appeared from the dark corners of our enchanted forest. And I’m sure you’ve realized at this point in my story that I have one particular – oh, shit, I just realized I don’t even know to which fandom our wannabe Wizard belongs. Ruh-roh. Regardless, that motherfucker is in my peep sight because it is a perfect example of how fandom manipulation has reached a new level of toxicity.

Typically, I don’t care what part of the fandom you’re on. My general attitude is, to each their own. If you’re a Jakola and you find yourself spending an average of 15 minutes each week reading my Lukola blog, I applaud you for peeking outside of the den hole. Best not let Alpha find out, though. It’s all in good fun, right? I often find myself getting a good laugh from Jakola stories, especially when they theorize on the Woman Behind the Curtain. Question, though – did you find her? In all seriousness, if I didn’t consider Jakola and Lutonia perspectives, I would be borderline Conscientiously Stupid, now, wouldn’t I? After all, the desire for knowledge is what ultimately gave our Scarecrow his brain.

However, what I don’t find “in good fun” is when social media creators prey on more than one side of the fandom under phony pretense, namely, that they “just want Nicola to be happy.” Oh, these Cowardly Lions may argue that they’re simply being “neutral” – and, yes, I’m sure some instances of this do exist – however, neutrality does not embrace openly ridiculing one fandom over another, especially on a platform that is touted by its owners as being a “safe space” for everyone. The problem with these so-called “neutral creators” is that they’re only here for social media engagement – the clicks and the giggles – and they defect to the other side when the going gets tough. If you, too, take issue with this kind of creator, be soothed in knowing that when you play two sides, you find yourself with two-times the number of enemies.

What makes these so-called “neutral creators” – actually, let’s just call them the “Defectors” – so poisonous to the fandom is that they are made from the grease drippings found at the bottom of the barrel of the Conscientiously Stupid. The Conscientiously Stupid are one thing – they are the ones using their platforms to spread misinformation because they choose to ignore exculpatory evidence (i.e., they’re headstrong in their beliefs) – but the Defectors are typically the ones creating the misinformation and feeding it to the Conscientiously Stupid and then hanging them out to dry when the information proves to be false. The Conscientiously Stupid who refuse to “lose the battle” then resort to bullying (more so than usual) the Sincerely Ignorant of an opposing fandom. And in defense of their Sincerely Ignorant comrades (or simply because they’re sick and tired of the Conscientiously Stupid preventing anyone from having nice things), the Fact Finders – unceremoniously, I might add – have taken their own place on the battlefield (oh, yes, they are absolutely your tactical commanders). Now, the entire fandom is at war with each other – all because some wannabe Wizard – a Defector – convinced people to look through a pair of shiny, green-colored glasses. More than once.

Is it appropriate – or perhaps a bit catty – to put “ceasefire” here?

Ah, yes, well, uh, we have found ourselves a bit far from Oz at this point, haven’t we?

I suppose – but we are trying to help Dorothy find her way back home, and at least we now have an idea as to how she got lost.

Maybe one day we will get her back to Kansas.

Yeah, maybe.

Oh, silly me! I forgot to sneak in a sly reference to Dorothy’s third companion – the Tin Man! He’s perfect for the end of our story. You know, in the book, the Wizard was just an ordinary man who stumbled into his Ozian existence on a magnificent hot air balloon and took advantage of the power that Emerald citizens bestowed upon him. Yeah, yeah, yeah, the Wizard preyed on the naïve using deception and the power of suggestion and invoked fear in anyone who dared to question his authority –

Uh, where are you going with this?

Give me a minute!

Like I said – shit, where was I? – Oh, yes, the Wizard was just an ordinary man, and ordinary people are flawed. We all make mistakes. This is where our Tin Man comes in as he represents love and empathy. Yes, empathy; the ability to put yourself in someone else’s shoes, to understand and forgive, to take into consideration someone’s redeeming qualities –

You know that Wizard defected in his hot air balloon before taking Dorothy home, right?

Wait, what?

Okay, okay. It was Toto’s fault but the Wizard sure as shit didn’t come back for her!

Hmm, you’d almost think Toto knew the Wizard’s true colors all along…

“Au revoir, Wiz.”