#part of it is that like. previously I was trying to like. force myself to comply with some loc game aspects

[bravewolfvesperia]

/ so I finally updated my rules and verses pages to reflect current activity and such since they were a bit outdated. if you haven't checked them in a long time, pleeeease at least skim them again! I think I mostly got everything, but I'd realized I hadn't properly updated them since shortly after I made this blog. 🙇‍♀️

[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

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

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

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

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

previously: 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 next:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you seriously going to believe that sh—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well fucking done, Jeon–"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You had to ruin it."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"This ends now."

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

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

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

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

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

"He must have forgotten he even called you—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Don’t be like the others, Y/N."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

In that moment, all you could do was scream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How is Peaches?"

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

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

"That’s good to hear."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Permanent."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You are confused—"

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

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

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

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

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

"At what cost, Jungkook? My independence?"

His expression softened slightly, though his resolve remained.

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

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

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

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

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

"Friends is on the telly. Wanna watch?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I need some Tampax."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can take care of it—"

"Kookie, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A simple errand, just a quick trip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just in case," he mumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Family?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"We’ll see."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, baby?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I saved her life."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"He’s mafio—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That’s how we roll." 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don’t want this Jungkook."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 "You have to let me in."

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

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

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

"I’ve been good, haven’t I?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was he testing you?

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

What are you going to do now?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wanna ride you."

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

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

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

"Yes, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For now, that was enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Among which is the how you and Jungkook met.

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook squeezed your hand gently, his eyes filled with pride.

"Ah, the Klein campaign," Seokjin said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. "That was quite a project, wasn't it? Jungkook mentioned how pivotal your role was."

Kim Seokjin is a lawyer. And a goddamn good one. The man would get you out of the death penalty and that’s maybe why Hoseok is keeping him close. At least, that’s what you heard. Each and one of them is somehow valuable to the infrastructure you don’t have the right to glimpse into, just yet. But how Jungkook falls into this scheme remains unknown.

You nodded, maintaining your composure. Breathing in and trying to ignore what his words were suggesting.

"Yes, it was a significant project. We both put a lot of effort into it."

"Effort, indeed," Yoongi chimed in, his voice low and smooth. You could not overlook the undertone. Jungkook narrowed his eyes at his oldest Hyungs, not quite understanding what they were trying to do. And here you thought he asked them to test you. You felt your cheeks heat up, the scrutiny intensifying.

Hoseok's wife, sensing the tension, tried to steer the conversation into something more—

"I loved the collection. Gguk is one hot motherfucker, cannot lie with that one."

You would not know how to call this kind of linguistic expression but, it seems, it worked.

Laughter erupted around the table, the tension easing slightly. Jungkook blushed at her comment, scratching the back of his head.

"Thanks, noona," he mumbled, clearly embarrassed but also grateful for the lighter mood.

Namjoon, ever the diplomat, leaned forward with a curious expression. "Y/N, what was the most challenging part of the Klein campaign for you?"

And now this started to seem like an interview. But for what? The job you were hunting for let's see if you can handle this family interview. You are trying to convince yourself that someone like Kim Namjoon cannot be this incredibly dull because he’s only testing how you’re going to behave. How do you know your way with words as this family needs to keep appearances.

You heard bits and pieces that you are now able to connect, at least a little. Jungkook was not in your imaginary map of this empire that people talk about in hushed voices. You were never that interested; you just wanted to keep doing what you love and have a roof over your head. Now you gotta do a lot more than just mind your business if you wanna stay in the line of your work.

Why?

Because you bloody want to.

You bloody want to reach the toppiest top of tops in the fashion industry as a designer. Even after all of this. You still want that; otherwise, you’d perish already. This dream of yours proved to be a conflict of interest not only in your head but also in this family.

To be or not to be, that is the question.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of all eyes on you.

"Jeon Jungkook."

You said that with a somewhat strange lightness in your voice. Jungkook choked a little on his wine and Taehyung, who sat opposite him, gave him an exclusive view of his mischief grin, his tongue darting out to touch his upper teeth.

Another set of laughter erupted around the table. Jungkook, still recovering from his mini-choking incident, chuckled and squeezed your hand. And it was in that moment, amidst the laughter and warmth of this, let’s say, unconventional family, that you felt a sense of belonging you had never experienced before. Growing up, warmth and familial affection were foreign concepts, mere figments of your imagination. But here, with Jungkook and his family, you were starting to understand what it meant to be part of something bigger, something warm and real, and you certainly didn’t know how to feel.

People call them greedy but they prefer ambitious. Ambition, after all, is what drives us forward. Isn’t it? They weren't just a family; they were a well-oiled machine, each cog turning in perfect synchrony. Each person at the table had a role to play, a purpose that intertwined with the others.

The room seemed to close in as you sank deeper into your thoughts. The warm glow of the chandelier overhead, the laughter that felt like a distant hum in your ears, the rich aroma of food in the air—it all became background noise and your head was reeling with questions you wanted answers to.

What is it that changed within you?

The evening wore on, and it seemed Jungkook was more than pleased with you today, judging by how extremely happy he looked talking to his Hyungs. But your attention was on one person only now.

Jimin approached you during a lull in the conversation. "Can we talk for a moment?" he asked quietly. You turned your face back to Jungkook. You knew better, so you opted to ask for permission to be excused for a moment. You met Jungkook’s eyes, his expression softening slightly as he saw the silent request in yours. His gaze lingered for a moment before he gave a subtle nod, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if assuring you it was okay.

You stood up, excusing yourself politely to the group, and followed Jimin, your heart picking up its pace with every step. The air between you felt charged, as if there were unspoken words waiting to be voiced.

Once you were out of earshot from the others, Jimin led you to a quieter corner of the house, the low hum of the gathering fading into the background. His eyes met yours, and you could sense a mix of nervousness and something deeper behind them.

"I see you’ve received my gift." You glance down at the dress, fingers brushing the soft fabric.

"Thank you, Jungkook have to insist I wear them–" A small smile tugs at his lips, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The held a quiet intensity, his usual playful demeanor replaced with something far more serious. The atmosphere around you seemed to change as he spoke, his words carrying weight.

"It’s good you’re focused on Jungkook—" his hands were paying attention to the crystal glasses he was pouring Kim’s brandy into.

"Well, it’s not like I had a choice." You stumbled awkwardly. You cannot mess this up, Y/N. You just can’t. You kept repeating to yourself that you had to, or otherwise, you’d do something Jungkook would not fancy at all.

Jimin didn’t seem to notice your discomfort as he handed you a glass of brandy, his gaze still fixed on the amber liquid swirling in his glass. "You’ve always got a choice in this family," he said, his voice low, almost too calm for the conversation you were having.

"It’s up to you if you choose wrong or right."

The words hung in the air, sharp and heavy, as Jimin’s gaze finally met yours. You took a slow breath, trying to steady the racing thoughts inside your mind. The glass of brandy in your hand suddenly felt like a weight you weren’t prepared to carry.

"What do you mean?" the words slipped from your mouth before you could stop them.

"Jungkook might not be in the center of all this—" he gestured to the lavish room you were in. This was a private office, and from what you gathered with your wandering eyes, it was Hoseok’s office.

"But he is still part of the family just like I am—" His posture relaxed, but his eyes betrayed an undercurrent of something deeper. You listened to him, gulping every word he said. "Just like you ought to be."

"He’s not just the charming guy you think he is. He’s tied to a world you don’t understand yet, and it’s not a world you can just walk away from if things go south."

For a moment, you couldn’t find your voice.

"Why are you telling me this now?" He took a long sip of his brandy, his gaze flicking briefly to the door before locking onto yours again.

"Because I need you to understand you are going nowhere if I offer you the position." The air between you thickened, and your pulse quickened as Jimin’s words sank in. You opened your mouth to respond, but your voice faltered. Jimin let out a soft sigh, the corner of his mouth curling up slightly as he leaned in, his voice lowering, now more direct.

"I need you to know that this is a goddamn privilege—" But the look in his eyes told you it wasn’t that simple.

"Women in this family do not work, they don’t have to." His voice was low and measured, but there was no mistaking the command behind his words. You slightly flinched at such an old stereotypical remark but remained silent. You can’t slip away.

The room felt smaller suddenly, the space between you shrinking with each word he spoke. You tried to steady yourself, to push past the shock and confusion that was flooding your mind, but it was difficult. And suddenly, you did not know whether you actually wanted this.

"Gguk seems to think that this will bring you two closer." His tone shifted ever so slightly, a faint edge of something you couldn’t quite name creeping into it. He wasn’t just making an observation, he was planting a seed, subtly drawing attention to something you hadn’t yet fully realized.

"So pardon me for ensuring that it fucking will."

You stood there, the glass of brandy suddenly feeling like it might slip from your hand, the weight of his words crashing over you. He leaned back slightly, his posture shifting to one that seemed more confident, more relaxed—like he was watching a show unfold and you were its central character.

"Hoseok was not pleased altogether, let me tell you that—" The silence that followed was deafening. Your mind raced, trying to process everything that had been said. Where is this leading to?

"—but if this helps you to know your place here, so be it."

"Jungkook’s not immune to the politics of this family. And neither are you," Jimin continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took another sip of brandy.

"So what is it you want from me?" Your voice came out stronger than you expected, but your heart was still pounding. You needed to know what he was after, what his angle was in all of this.

Jimin’s smile deepened, his eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"There you go." He mused, laughing softly.

"You can have it all,—" he said, his voice soft but cutting.

"—only if you’re willing to make the right choice."

As the evening drew to a close, you found yourself standing by the Christmas tree with Jungkook. Back at the penthouse, the lights twinkled softly, casting a warm glow over the room. He looked down at you, his eyes filled with a mix of possessiveness and affection.

"You did well tonight," he murmured, his hand gently cupping your face. "I’m very proud of you."

You smiled up at him, feeling a strange mix of emotions. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Jungkook's fingers trailed down your cheek, pulling you closer.

"Let’s get ready for bed, or Santa won’t come and eat his cookies–" he said, his voice husky with emotion.

You smiled a little at his goofiness and nodded. He took your hand, leading you to the bedroom. The room was dimly lit, the moonlight casting silvery shadows on the floor. You could hear the distant hum of the city below. Not even on Christmas can the never-ending busyness of Manhattan be stopped.

Jungkook started undressing, his movements slow and deliberate. He pulled his shirt over his head, revealing the chiseled muscles of his chest and the tattoos that adorned his skin. You couldn’t help but admire the way the light played over his body, highlighting every contour and shadow.

As he turned to head to the bathroom, you slipped into the walk-in closet, needing a moment alone. The closet was a treasure trove of designer clothes, including your own designs for Klein. The scent of expensive fabrics and faint traces of perfume filled the air.

You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, the weight of the evening pressing down on you. Your heart raced, and your breaths came in shallow gasps. Panic gripped you, the pressure of the family’s scrutiny and the reality of your relationship with Jungkook closing in. So how are you going to stop them from getting into your head if they already planted the seeds?

You sank to the floor, surrounded by the clothes that represented your dreams and ambitions. The panic intensified, and tears welled up in your eyes. You closed them tightly, trying to calm yourself. 

Breathe, Y/N. Just breathe.

You focused on your breathing, counting each inhale and exhale, trying to ground yourself. Slowly, the panic began to subside, replaced by a sense of resolve. You couldn’t afford to fall apart. Not now.

"Baby, you coming?"

Jungkook's voice filtered through the closed door, warm and concerned.

He had stood by you. The whole evening. The whole time, actually. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his… love.

You wiped your eyes quickly, taking another deep breath before standing up. The panic had subsided, leaving you with a fragile sense of calm.

You took a moment to compose yourself, looking around at the clothes that symbolized both your dreams and the immense pressure you felt. You reminded yourself why you were here, why you endured the scrutiny and the stress: because you had a vision, a goal to reach the pinnacle of the fashion industry. And now, Jungkook was a part of that journey, whether you had planned it or not.

"I want my life back," you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.

Opening the closet door, you stepped back into the dimly lit bedroom. Jungkook was waiting by the bathroom door, his concern evident in the way he studied your face. His shirtless form was suddenly a comforting sight, his presence grounding you in the reality that he was here, supporting you.

"Everything okay?" he asked softly, closing the distance between you with a few strides.

"Yeah," you replied, forcing a smile. "Just a bit overwhelmed."

Jungkook nodded, accepting your answer but not entirely convinced. His bare skin glowed, every muscle defined and accentuated by the dim light, an embodiment of raw beauty.

"Want to wash it away?"

He took your hand, leading you into the bathroom. The steam from the shower had filled the room, creating a warm, misty atmosphere that was both soothing and intimate.

You undressed slowly, Jungkook’s eyes never leaving you. The way he looked at you, with a mix of desire and affection, made your heart race for an entirely different reason. You stepped into the shower together, the hot water cascading over your bodies, washing away the remnants of the evening’s tension.

Jungkook pulled you close, his hands gliding over your wet skin. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The sensation of his strong arms around you, his body solid and warm, was a comfort you hadn’t realized you needed.

"You were amazing tonight," he murmured against your hair, his lips brushing your forehead. "I know it wasn’t easy, and I want you to know that I’m gonna keep my promise."

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of doubt. But as you looked deeper, something shifted. The lenses through which you saw Jeon Jungkook began to tint with a soft, rosy hue. His face, so familiar yet infinitely captivating, seemed to glow with a newfound warmth. The world around you faded, and in that moment, the colors of your life transformed, blending into shades of pink and gold, painting a picture of something…something you never quite felt yet.

"Thank you," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. "It means so much to me, Jungkook."

He smiled, a small, reassuring smile that made your heart flutter.

"I love you, baby."

The hot water cascaded over you both, creating a steamy haze that made everything feel surreal. Jungkook’s hands moved gently, tenderly, as if he was afraid you might break. You felt safe, cherished, and for a moment, all your fears and doubts melted away.

You did not flinch anymore when he ran his slender fingers over your perky nipples, not when his other hand slipped down the small of your back to grip your naked ass cheek. Instead, you leaned into his touch and asked yourself the same question you did hours ago.

What is it that changed within you?

The first light of Christmas Day filtered through the heavy drapes of the penthouse, casting a soft glow over the room. The world outside was quiet, blanketed in a gentle layer of snow that muffled the usual city sounds. You woke up to the warmth of Jungkook's arms wrapped around you, his breath steady and calm against your neck.

Jungkook stirred beside you, his eyes fluttering open. He smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Merry Christmas," he whispered, his voice husky from sleep.

"Merry Christmas," you replied, your voice still groggy. The scent of pine from the Christmas tree in the living room mingled with the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen. It felt like a picture-perfect morning, almost too serene for the turmoil that often lingered beneath the surface of your life with Jungkook.

He got up and wrapped himself in a robe before heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. You took a moment to collect yourself, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the ever-present tension. As you joined him in the kitchen, you noticed the table set beautifully, with a spread of breakfast items that looked straight out of a holiday magazine. There was bits of this and that on the tray and after a long time, you had an appetite to eat it all. 

"Are we feeding an army or just trying to impress a really hungry ghost of Christmas past, Ebenezer?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at the lavish display.

Jungkook chuckled, a light-hearted sound that momentarily eased your nerves. "I thought we could indulge a little. It’s Christmas, after all."

You nodded, taking a seat at the table. The food was delicious, and the effort Jungkook had put into making this morning special was evident. For a moment, you allowed yourself to enjoy it, to pretend that everything was normal.

After breakfast, Jungkook led you to the living room where the Christmas tree stood, twinkling with lights and adorned with ornaments.

"Jungkook—" you began when you noticed the little beautifully wrapped box being tucked in the branches of the tree.

"I know, I know you said no gifts, but this is something for the both of us." His voice was gentle, almost pleading.

You sighed, but nodded, stepping closer to the tree. Jungkook reached for the box, carefully removing it from the branches. He turned to you, his eyes filled with an intensity that made your heart pound.

He handed you the box, his fingers brushing against yours. "Open it, baby," he urged softly.

Part of you wanted to freeze the moment, not because you wanted to remember this part of your life, but because you wished to not know what was coming your way. You had to decide now, and the tingly feeling inside of you, remembering Jimin’s words from last night, had never been clearer.

You can have it all, only if you’re willing to make the right choice.

Your hands trembled slightly as you unwrapped the box, revealing a small velvet case. You glanced up at Jungkook, your heart racing, but he simply nodded, encouraging you to continue.

You didn’t need to say it out loud for everyone to know what was inside. Yet, it still took your breath away. Not that you expected any less from Jeon Jungkook.

The ring commanded attention, with its centerpiece—a large, marquise-cut diamond. Set in a band of lustrous yellow gold, the setting featured intricate, filigree-style detailing that adorned each side of the diamond, evoking the elegance of a bygone era. Delicate, smaller accent diamonds were carefully embedded within the gold framework, amplifying the ring's dazzle and enhancing its vintage charm.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up from the ring at Jungkook, who had dropped to one knee before you.

"Will you marry me?"

.

.

.

I N T E R L O G U E

Yoongi leaned against the wall, his brow furrowed in thought. "You know, Jungkook, the mind is a fragile thing—"

"We've seen how the actual medication isn't helping her as much as we'd hoped. It's making her numb, Hyung. She's still spiraling. We need to try something different, something that might break through her—"

Yoongi crossed his arms, contemplating Jungkook's words. "And you think this is the way? To trick her into thinking she's taking the medication?"

"Sometimes," Jungkook replied softly, "a little deception can lead to the truth."

The end of part two - side B

©pennyellee. please do not repost

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Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! Only love please! ♥

see ya soon, love, p.

[gffa]

JEDI ORDER CITATIONS IN STAR WARS CANON, PART V [A Meta/Reference Guide on AO3] Welcome to my Jedi Culture and Teachings in Canon series, where I collate various quotes from current canon to provide a worldbuilding and reference guide, whether for better fic writing, just general interest in getting to know the Star Wars lore better, or if you want to be able to pull out some quotes when you're fighting the internet on behalf of the fictional space wizards. ;) So, what's here? Basically anything I think would be of interest to people who want to know what the Jedi are like in the canon--any worldbuilding bits (what special abilities do the Jedi have? do the Jedi have art? do they have funeral rites? what do we know about Knighting ceremonies? what are the themes of the Force? are the Jedi telepaths or empaths and what scenes in canon support that? what do we know about Jedi schooling?), any quotes from Lucas himself, all arranged in categories to help you find what you're looking for. Feel free to take this guide or leave it, it's not about telling other people what to do, if you scroll on by, that's fine, I'm not your mom, do what you want. But if you want to know what the Jedi have to say about Force bonds or what kind of clothing they way or everything we know about the main ziggurat of the Jedi Temple, I got you covered, babe. This section is admittedly overly large, where previously I would get to about 25k words of citations and post the next part, feeling that was a manageable chunk for readers. But with The Acolyte coming out, I made a challenge to myself to get caught up on all of The High Republic before it aired and I drop citations in as I'm reading, so suddenly I found myself with nearly 50k of citations and I was feeling in the groove, I had all my references easily accessible, I was getting through my backlog, I had access to some of the roleplaying guides, I was seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, and, wham, suddenly it's ~70k and here I am now. But that's 70k of examples of what the Jedi say and do, my best attempt to give context to show the consistent themes and parallels within the Jedi Order all across this continuity. How to use this guide? Well, you do you, for starters! But I hope you'll read the intros, as often some books need to be put in specific contexts, and if you have any suggestions for future categories or better organization, feel free to mention it! I do this for me, but I format it for sharing, so I'm game! Feel free to check out previous sections for more examples, and just scroll through to skim the bolded sections to try to find what you're looking for, since not everything always fits neatly into a single given category! (Or just ask me! I love being a nerd about Star Wars worldbuilding.) The guide is broken down into seven sections as before:

How the Force Works

Jedi Culture & Philosophy & Teachings

Jedi As a People

Psychic Space Wizards Doing Psychic Space Wizard Things

Jedi Temple (Living Quarters, Training Rooms, Meditation Gardens and Dining Halls !)

Jedi Outreach, Politics, and the Bigger Galaxy

Fantasy Flight Games Are Not Canon But Canon-Compliant Is Close Enough

Jedi, Buddhism, and Everything Else

[honeychamomile1]

Not So Pretty

JJ Maybank x ex!fem!reader

Summary: No one, I mean no one, can be okay after a break up and that is just something that is shown to be proven not told.

Warnings: Light violence, mention of glass shattering, drinking underage (it’s JJ after all), crying, comfort, etc.

Note: Part three of “Pretty” series! I hope you guys enjoy! Also, @sunndroppp this is my apology for being so late! Please forgive me lol. :)

👉 Series Masterlist 👈

John B

“John B.” I heard in a sing-song voice, a tiny laugh escaping the person who was trying to disturb my sleep.

I opened my eyes with great effort, eyes fluttering a couple times before I had a clear visual of who was interrupting my slumber.

“Whoah, what the heck, man?!” I blurted, sitting up quickly, pulling the blanket with me to cover myself with its warmth.

JJ Maybank was standing over my bed, his face previously only a couple centimeters from mine. He laughed, mouth opened wide in a smile as he startled me awake.

“It’s nothing personal, I just wanted to wake my buddy up.” He explained, chuckling again.

For a second I almost questioned why he was acting this way; acting like everything was okay after he abandoned the one girl he truly loved, but I couldn’t know how he deals with his feelings, and I didn’t want to ruin his day by bringing it up; the last thing I wanted was to uncover feelings he previously buried.

Instead I only rolled my eyes, reaching up to rub the sleep out of them. My mouth opened in a yawn. “What do you want, JJ?”

He smiled and nudged my arm with his elbow. “Don’t know, you tell me.”

I glared at him. “You’re telling me that you woke me up for no reason at all?”

He smirked but his lips wavered. “Not for no reason, you can still make me breakfast now that you’re up.”

I grabbed the nearest pillow I had nearby and threw it at him, the object successfully hitting him right in the chest.

“Make your own breakfast, Maybank.” I teasingly snarled, and he laughed, walking out of the room so he wouldn’t annoy me further.

When I later went down stairs, I saw JJ sitting on the counter, a beer bottle in his hand. The same hands she used to kiss and hold, guiding him where she wanted to go while giggling at his complaints.

I laughed half-heartedly. “Already drinking somethin’?”

JJ huffed, a smile being forced on his lips as he looked at the glass in his hand, almost like he didn’t realize it was there until now. “Yeah, I guess so.”

My eyebrows furrowed, confusion flooding my senses. “You okay?”

He bit the inside of his cheek, taking off his hat with his free hand, ruffling his hair strands before putting the cap back on. He then seemed to flip his usual emotion switch on, a very forced smile stretching his lips. “‘Course, why wouldn’t I be?”

I felt a look of uncertainty surround my features since I couldn’t help but show it. No one, I mean no one, can be okay after a break up and that is just something that is shown to be proven not told.

“Nothing,” I started, and felt a sarcastic comment come up my throat. “Not like you just broke up with someone or anything.”

JJ’s jaw clenched, giving the impression his teeth were clashing together uncomfortably. It twitched, not seeming to be unlocking any time soon. “Shut up.”

Normally when JJ told me that kind of stuff I would laugh and refuse to do so, teasing him by pushing his shoulder. He would normally give me that kind of come-get-me-grin, testing me once again to see if I’d dare to make my response something along the lines of ‘make me.’

But this was serious, his voice stern as he looked, more like glared, at me. His hands turned white as he squeezed the beer bottle’s neck. For some reason my chest tightened in fear of it shattering, picturing glass particles everywhere like flickering lights. Of course, I knew JJ was strong but not that capable capable to break a glass bottle, but the fear was sitting in me nonetheless.

“Why?” I asked, confusion taking a seat next to the fear in my chest. “I am telling the truth, aren’t I?”

JJ’s jaw was still locked, eyes set on a wall across the kitchen, silently asking it a question and waiting for it to answer.

“Aren’t I?” I repeated, trying to squeeze the answer out of him like squeezing the juice out of a lemon, and I awaited the sour response of the truth.

“And what if you are?” He suddenly snapped, blue eyes making sharp eye contact with mine. I didn’t flinch, for I couldn’t do so, and I wasn’t scared enough to do it in the first place. There it was, the sour taste on my tongue.

I am never scared of JJ, and today will not be the time that changes.

So I stood my ground, looking in right back in the eye as he continued his outburst. “That doesn’t change anything, because I’m over it.”

His voice was so straight, straight as a line, not wavering whatsoever. But I knew him, and that last part of what he said had a dip in tone. “Yeah right.”

He slapped his eyes away for mine and back to the wall in front of him, legs swinging softly back and forth. His boots that still covered his feet-the fact alone bothered me a little- softly hit the cabinets below the counter, it closing and opening, closing and opening, closing and openi-

“Stop that will you?” I blurted, gesturing to his feet but instead is stopping he just jumped off the counter all together, setting the beer down on the surface he was previously sitting on and starting right for me.

His hands, the ones she used to hold grabbed me harshly by the shoulders, a face with nothing but rage fight in mine. His eyes darkened, they shined with anger as he dove me to the ground, the harsh kitchen floor beneath me.

A flashback to when we were younger, his tiny body squealing with laughter as he playfully pushed me down, the grass smacking my back as I attempted to wrestle back.

But this moment wasn’t playful, and if I didn’t stop him, I felt the growing fear he would actually hurt me.

“Hey, hey, hey!” I shouted, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him off me. I met his face, his eyes, and saw soft tears laid over them.

“Hey, man, what’s wrong?” I asked him softly, our legs bending to stand up again, my hands still on his shoulders to hold him steady.

“I-…sorry.” He swallowed, his hand lightly pushed mine off him before shooting to his hair, the blond strands being tangled within his fingers. I was worried he was gonna pull his hair out the more he pulled; I could almost feel the harsh tugs on his head on my own.

“Hey, no need to be sorry, tell me what’s going on.” I assured, and I felt my eyes following his body as he walked further into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as he roughly rubbed at his eyes, making the areas red quite quickly.

He then covered both his eyes with his palms, fingers touching both of his ears. “I-I broke up with her.”

This is information we both already knew, but seeing him with this much emotion flowing within him it wasn’t something I didn’t expect. I often believe that this was a stage of healing, of communication about one’s feelings before they discuss what the next step will be. And that part right there, the statement that JJ made, was a topic sentence to ease into the deeper meaning on why he broke up with her, not just the statement of action.

“I was so stupid, B.” He grumbled out, each breath he took seeming to increase pressure on his face with his hands.

I didn’t say anything, I chose not to, for I was worried I would interfere too much with the non-stop emotions flowing through him. So I stayed put, my feet gluing themselves to the ground on their own. I could have stepped forward, touched his shoulder affectionately and attempted to provide some comfort, but that would make him uncomfortable, and that was one of the last things I wanted. So I continued to stay put.

“Breakin’ up with her like that,” he continued to ramble, eyes still covered with his hands as he shook his head, disappointed with himself. “She must be broken, man.”

This time I wanted to respond, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, Pope was talking to her; he said she was crying.”

JJ shook his head harder. “Don’t.”

“Sorry, but it’s true.” I pried, my feet deciding to unstick and step forward, getting only a little bit closer to him. He needed to know the truth; what he did to her.

“I’m so upset with myself.” He said suddenly, clearly wanting to change the subject, and once again the statement is true. Gonna be honest, he was stupid, and he does look upset, so both statements just add to the pile of negative thoughts that are running through his head.

“Why’d you do it, man? Because I know it wasn’t because you stopped lovin’ her.”

“Not like I ever could.” He grumbled once again, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He finally took them out of his hair, I noticed almost right away, his strands left pointing to and fro in the air.

“Stop avoiding the question.” I stated. I had enough. I know I reacted confused and determined before, but now I’m feeling impatience forming within my chest, replacing the previous emotions. I want him to answer me, and I want him to answer me right now.

He sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“Yet stupid things have good outcomes?” I quoted the motto he claims all the time, raising an eyebrow, testing him.

He huffed, right hand coming to his hair strands again. “My dad.”

The words were breathed out roughly, and I was lucky I heard them because I don’t think he would want to repeat it if I asked him to.

“Look, I get it man, but you can’t break her as a way of protection.” I informed, knowing how wide of possible reactions he might have, but I say it anyway. Because not only did it need to be said, but also he isn’t protecting her in the right way.

“I know, but it was the only way I could think of, how else am I supposed to protect her? Let him beat her up like he does to me?”

I couldn’t help but step back at his outburst. My mind was so blank it couldn’t even picture it, the man who called himself JJ’s dad laying any sort of hand on her.

The thought couldn’t help itself but slip into my brain, picturing his hands on her, pure fear in her eyes as she cried for help, begging for her lover that left her broken inside.

“Don’t talk like that.” I ordered at him, forcing myself to erase the image from my mind.

“Well if I haven’t broken up with her, that imagine would’ve become reality. So I left her.”

The fact that he shrugged afterwards, like the answer was that simple; almost like it was normal for him to do that.

“What about the whole time you were together? You weren’t worried about your dad then.”

“Well he wasn’t exactly mindful of her was he? He knows, John B,” JJ almost snapped right back at me.

“Does it even matter at this point, does it, J? I know you’ll do anything to protect her.”

“Yeah, I do!” He blurted. “And that thing I did was leave her. She deserves someone better, someone whose father doesn’t beat them up. Someone who can love her and not worry about his father hurting her.”

I couldn’t help it, I pulled him in towards me and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, bringing him into a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s gonna be okay,” I whispered.

“Y-you were right, I’m not okay. I-“ he paused, a shaky breath aruptintg in his chest. “I miss her,” he breathed out in a soft whimper.

It was a soft moment, a side I didn’t really see of JJ except when we were kids and he scrapped his knee.

He learned to dig it deep down within himself as he got older, but I always knew that certain things made him crack, and she was one of those things. One of those beautiful, precious things that didn’t deserve to be hurt in any way.

“It’s okay,” I whispered again, not quite knowing what to say. I didn’t want to say something and spark any anger in him, so I continued to soothe the best way I could.

It seems to work, JJ’s breathing calmed down as his fingers practically dug crescent moons into my arms.

“…JJ?”

The body I was holding tensed up, stiffened into a board even.

He pulled away, eyes wide with pure terror, and confusion took over me, looking around, but seeing no one. No one at all.

“What’s wrong? You okay?” I asked, his hands sweaty on my arms before he pulled them away, his breathing picking up a bit.

He swallowed thickly, and I could almost feel how dry his throat was.

“N-nothing, I thought I heard someon-something.”

________________________________________

People I wanted to tag!

@immyowndefender @stephstephstephsteph @tairodriguess2010

________________________________________

Like, reblog, and comment to make me happy!! 🫶🏻

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

The Fun Kind of Sparring Pt. 2

Soldier Boy (The Boys) x Reader

(Aka minors do NOT interact with this post)

A/N: Sooooooo… did ya miss me?? Heh. My down stairs brain has been exercised, that’s for sure. Took five but now I’m trying to change lives 💪

Anyways, as always, all interaction, especially commentary/tags, is extremely appreciated! It really makes my day to hear that people like what I’m putting out there.

Content Warning: 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ If you thought the last one was diddle-that-skittle-worthy, this one… I think I’m going to need to take a cold shower. I mean, my man doesn’t stop talking. I will say he’s really sweet to the reader. A few things he says sound more like him in canon, but overall he’s really sweet. Look, guys, life is lifing rn so I just needed a sweet hot old man to talk me through it 🤷‍♀️

****************************************************

Previously on The Fun Kind of Sparring

"Good girl," he praises, and it's all I can do not to keen. I have to be soaked through my shorts by now, there's no way. "Well, what l'd do next... that's simple. I'd fuck her until she cried, and then I'd keep going. And I'd keep going until the only thing she can remember is my name, until she's gooey and clingy and a sweet little fucked out thing, all for me," he finishes, his grin from before returning back to his face. I'm losing it. I can't think straight. And yet- he's still waiting for me to make the first move. Son of a bitch.

"O-okay," I clear my throat, unable to find my senses. "And if that hypothetical girl was me?" We both know it's me, I just need to hear it.

"Well in that case I think l'd be the luckiest bastard who ever lived," he says sincerely, looking at me with a gaze that can only be described as pure adoration and lust. Yep. That's it for me. I lean up and kiss him with as much force as I can muster.

A strand of spit connects our lips when we part, and if I hadn’t heard him say all those dirty things I’d think it was the most erotic thing imaginable. It’s certainly a close second, though.

He crashes his lips back to mine once the strand breaks, demanding access that I could never be strong enough not to give. He explores my mouth with great fervor, silencing the small whimpers and whines trying to tear themselves from my throat. Once he’s sure I’m breathless he moves down, planting a row of kisses to my jaw before kissing down my neck, biting and sucking dark marks at the juncture of my neck and shoulder.

But through the lust induced haze that’s already clouding my brain I can only remember one thing.

“Uh, Ben?” my voice is unrecognizable, breathy and high.

“Yeah?” He says into my collarbone where he’s been leaving more love bites.

“What about you? Don’t you get to come in the story?”

“Oh, you’re sweet on me, huh, baby? Don’t you worry about me sweet girl, that’ll come later- no pun intended.”

“Oh, okay,” I mumble, tugging him up by the hair so I can kiss him again. “I could kiss you forever,” I say. And it sounds stupid, but his plush pink lips are just too good to be true.

“That can be arranged, sweetheart,” he smirks, leaning down to kiss me again. There’s just no feeling like it. I reach for the hem of his grey sweatpants, but he grunts, pulling away. I look at him, eyes wide with confusion.

“Sugar, as much as I’d love to give some sad sap the chance of walking in on this, I think it’s better we move this to my room.”

“Oh, okay,” I concede.

“Trust me,” he says, almost… shifty? Whatever. I’m too horny to decipher his gaze at the moment. I let him all but pick me up off the floor, and I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror embellished wall: my face is sweaty and splotchy, hair already a wreck, hickies everywhere on my neck and shoulders. Holy hell. I haven’t even gotten laid yet, and I look like I went nine rounds in a porno. Motherfucker. Me-fucker, in a minute. Good god.

“I think I’m an artist,” he says smugly from behind me, admiring the blues and purples on my neck and shoulders, and catching my gaze in the mirror. He presses his bulge to my ass, at which I gasp. He’s huge. I can already tell. How the fuck does he even-? I don’t even know how I’m going to finish that question.

“C’mon sweetheart, my room ain’t far.”

“Okay,” I mumble, stuck on the absent feeling of his bulge against me. “But the floor was so hot,” I pout.

“Don’t I know it, sweets,” he grins. “But I’ve got big plans for you, if you remember.”

I moan softly at the memory of his dirty words

“Attagirl.” The shit eating grin from before is right back on his face. “Now c’mon, sweets,” he tugs my hand in his, practically dragging me out of the gym. Before I know it I’m laying on my back in his soft bed, him over me. He somehow kisses me both soft and slow, and rough and fast, and it’s almost impossible to breath. Especially as he adds more to the canvas he’s made of my body.

“Can I?” he asks, tugging at the hem of my shirt. I nod, and pulls it up over my head, obviously enjoying what he finds under it.

“Of course my pretty girl has pretty tits too, I shouldn’t even be surprised, but”-he kisses the tops of each of my breasts-“damn, baby.”

I blush at his praise, unable to help myself. “Can I take off this cute little bra?” he asks.

“Mhm,” I say, hoping that he’ll just rip it off. But instead of being raucous he gently unclasps it from behind, teasing it off of me. He trails lower with his lips, lavishing my breasts in attention that leaves them perky and alert once he leaves them for my stomach.

I can’t help but start giggling at the feeling of his scratchy beard on my stomach as he continues his trek of kisses and such southward. “What’s funny?” he asks, obviously amused by my laughter. I can only giggle harder because he seems to catch on, now intentionally scratching at me with it. He starts kissing lower and lower, and eventually my giggles dissolve into moans as he nips at the juncture of my thigh and pelvis.

“So sweet,” he mumbles, tugging at the waist band of my shorts. He pulls both them and my underwear off in one go. “Oh, sweets,” he breathes. “You this wet all for me?”

I squeak, unable to respond to the dark, lust-filled look in his eyes as he asks. Thankfully the question is rhetorical, because my brain is already starting to get fuzzy.

He gingerly pulls off my shoes and socks, before pressing featherlight kisses to and massaging up my left leg. Just as he reaches my sopping heat does he stop, biting the squishy flesh of the inside of my thigh before returning back down on my right leg.

“Ben,” I whine impatiently, unsure of how much more of this teasing I can take before I just come without him doing anything.

He just tuts at me before continuing his ministrations. And good grief does he know what buttons to press, because my legs already feel like jello in his hands.

Finally he bites my other thigh, and I’m all but shaking with how eager I am for him to do something, anything to me. And he seems to be more than happy to comply.

“Listen, if you tell me to stop, I’ll stop,” he says roughly, sincerely, as his cheek rests against the inside of my thigh.

“O-okay?” I say, my tone far past breathy.

“That’s my girl,” he grins before diving in.

It’s like nothing I’ve felt before. It feels like he’s lit orgasmic fireworks, like far too much and not enough all at once, like… it’s fucking inexplainable. Especially while I’m physically squirming from how good it feels, while he only needs one big hand splayed over my stomach to keep me down. I couldn’t even tell you what I’m moaning between the incoherent mess of his one syllable name and the whines he’s pulling out of me.

It’s incredible. And he’s so methodical, so good at it. Eighty odd years of experience will do it to you I guess, but this is like, next level.

And before I know it my stomach is tightening in on itself, and I try to warn him. I really do. But he doesn’t even need me to warn him. Instead he takes his hand off my stomach and places both on either of my thighs, locking me in place around his head. And before I know it, his tongue thrusting in and out of me and his nose and facial hair rubbing on my clit have me coming with a loud cry of his name. I’m physically shaking by the end of it from how he continues to fuck me through it, lapping up every last drop.

The thing about Ben is that he does everything with great fervor. Passion, really, except he thinks that’s too feminine a word. There just has to be a certain exceptionality to the way he does things. When he snorts a line of coke, the line had better be four times longer than anyone else’s. When he performed back in the day, it had to be more grandiose than Queen, more ostentatious than Madonna. When he eats pussy, it has to be fucking leagues ahead of any other man or woman in the entire world.

And man oh man does he deliver. I think I come again, but it’s hard to tell from how intense the initial orgasm was and how fuzzy the overstimulation is making my brain. But he eventually pulls back, once again resting his stubbled cheek on the inside of my thigh, my come glistening on his jaw and mouth. It’s a sight of debauchery in its purest-or should I say filthiest- form. I’m panting, trying to ground myself as he smugly smirks at me, his greens eyes sparkling like cut emeralds.

“Y’like that, sweetheart?” he asks, knowing damn well I do. And yes, he’s cocky as fuck, but… he’s not wrong.

“Yes,” I mumble.

“Good girl,” and at that I clench around nothing. And he does not fail to notice.

“Aww, my sweet girl likes being a good girl,” he observes, languidly running a knuckle through my folds. I gasp, and he chuckles. “Easy.”

He surprises me by thrusting one finger in- and like he said, it wouldn’t do much with how wet I was. So he gives me a second, and I start to feel it, especially when he hits my g-spot on every languid thrust, eliciting tinny moans from me. The tinny moans get louder when he starts scissoring his fingers inside of me, opening me up as far as he sees fit. “Gotta get you ready for me,” he explains, spitting on his other hand before brining his thumb to my clit. I’m beyond fucked once the rough pad of his thumb meets my sensitive bud, gasping his name and arching my back.

“You’re taking ‘em so well, sweet girl. Gonna give you another,” he tells me before adding a third finger and rubbing on my clit even faster. I barely last three minutes of this before I come for the second-third?- time with a weak cry of his name, still ready for more. I’m flustered from how easy it was to make me come, and his words certainly don’t soothe my blush.

“Oh, look at this pretty pussy gushin’ f’me, she’s too good to me,” he groans, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out to prolong my bliss. “Aww sweet girl, why’re you embarrassed, huh? I think my new favorite color is pink cause of your sweet cheeks. My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

My mind is so fuzzy. Ben- Soldier Boy- is literally praising me whereas he calls anyone else a disappointment or a whore. And he’s making me feel so good, not only because of the incredible sex but with the way he’s treating me.

He kisses me again before he stands up, and I can taste myself on him. I don’t mind though, because his lips, his tongue… I can hardly account for my senses, much less comprehend the taste of myself. He stares at me and finally takes the waistband of his sweatpants in his hands. I can’t help the way my jaw drops as he finally pulls them and his boxers down, and naturally he gives me his signature smirk.

The bottom line is that he’s even bigger than I had thought earlier. Like, this is a size I thought only dildos came in, not the real thing. It’s long, it’s thick, and it’s rock hard. His eyes are trained on mine, so naturally he catches me gaping and laughs. Jackass.

“You know that not all of that is going to fit, right?” I ask, a little nervous.

“We’ll see about that,” he says, cocksure. I can’t help but gulp involuntarily, but once he brings his lips back down to mine I’m right back into my whipped frenzy, pouting and following his lips like a puppy when he pulls away, rummaging in his bedside drawer but talking all the while.

“Don’t worry, m’gonna give you what you want, just gotta ease you into it, okay? Ain’t gonna treat you like a loosened whore, I could never. My sweet girl. Didn’t bring you in here for nothing, wanted this.” He holds up a small bottle, and that’s when I get it. He needed the damn lube. That’s why he wanted to come back here. Not a big connection, but for someone who’s ready to let him doin all sorts of unspeakable things to her and thank him for it, it’s a revolutionary revelation.

“Oh-oh,” I say, my voice breaking when I watch him fist himself a few times.

“Gonna make it feel so good for you,” he mumbles, rubbing a generous amount of lube up and down his length. As if it hasn’t already been beyond good. “Tell you what, baby, I want you to ride me, just to start. Y’can adjust on your own time, take it as slow as you need, okay sweet girl? ‘Cause if I’m on top… I don’t think I can make any promises.” At least he’s honest. The horny part of me wants him to just go ahead and rail me within an inch of my life, but the small, annoying, rational part of me recognizes how huge he is. He sits down next to me on the bed, comfortably resting against the pilos and the headboard. His legs are splayed, showing off the endearing curve to them.

It takes a lot out of my already fucked out self to move two inches and straddle him, but I do. He smiles, genuinely smiles, and I can’t help but smile back.

“Take it easy, sweet girl,” he tells me. “We’ve got all night. You just take all the time you need.” I’m so turned on by how sweet he is, I genuinely can’t even help it.

“Okay,” I mumble, reaching for his cock, feeling it in my hands. It’s just a little thicker than the grip of one of my hands- definitely thicker than anything I’ve ever had, but not as scary as I thought. I rub the leaking precum over his tip, because even though he’s already poured a more than generous amount of lube on himself I can’t be too sure. Not to mention the delicious gasps he’s making at every touch are enough to just do this for the next six hours.

But finally, finally I’m ready. I position myself over it, my arms encircling Ben’s wide, freckled shoulders.

And then I slowly, ever so slowly sink down on the tip. We both moan at the newfound sensation, and I physically have to stop for a second. He’s just so big. All of him is, from his ego to his overall stature, but inside me? He’s huge, and the stretch is beyond satiating.

“You okay, sweets?” he asks, recovering quicker than me.

“Yeah,” I whisper.

“Good girl,” he kisses me on the lips. The distraction of the kiss lets me move more comfortably down his length. I make it a little bit more before I have to stop again. “You’re squeezing me so good, this pussy was made for me,” he groans when I stop, and I hide my own noises into the crook of his shoulder.

“Ben?” I mumble.

“Yeah?”

“I need help,” I whine, keeping my face hidden to hide my embarrassment.

“Aww, sweetpea,” he lets out a small laugh despite himself, furthering my angry red blush. “C’mere, look at me,” I do as he says, my thighs sore from keeping me up as I do so.

“No need to be embarrassed with me, sugar,” he says softly, before bring my lips to his, a big hand cupping the side of my head. I barely notice his other hand on my hip until he slowly starts guiding me down on him, lifting me up and down where I’m and pushing me down further and further as he does so. He muffles my whimpers and whines into the kiss, kissing me so long that I forget what it’s like to breathe.

Once he’s bottomed out and I’m properly seated on his lap does he pull away, letting me moan as loud as I need to.

“How do you feel?” he asks, his own voice strained.

“Full,” I mumble, because it’s true. He’s so all consuming in this moment, all I can concentrate on is how he fills me to the brim.

He twitches inside of me at that, his brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothin’ baby, you just can’t be throwing around words like that,” he groans.

“You asked,” I protest.

“I know,” he retorts, kissing me again. After a few moments of sitting there on his lap, I tell him I’m ready to move a little.

“You need help, sweets?” he asks, giving me a knowing look. And I want to say no, that much is probably written on my face. Want to show him that I’m capable of bouncing on his enormous cock, but I sincerely don��t think I am.

“Maybe,” I concede sheepishly.

“That’s okay, baby,” he smiles gently, grabbing me by the hips. He slowly lifts me up his length, and I can feel my walls trying to contract around him as he moves me up, clenching him like a vice. A soft groan leaves his lips whilst various whimpers leave mine.

He keeps this gentle pace, so slow that I can feel every single inch of him slide in and slip out. Slowly the burn from the initial stretch disipates into pure pleasure that leaves me whispering his name every time he bottoms out. But eventually it’s not enough, because the thoughts of his promises creep into my empty mind, his promises of fucking me. Until I cry, until I can only remember his name and nothing else.

“Ben,” I mumble, my head still resting in the crook of his neck as he eases me up and down. “I’m ready.”

“Ready for what, pretty girl?”

Jackass. He knows damn well what, I can hear it in his voice. “I don’t want to say it,” I whine. He pulls me back so we’re eye to eye, resting me on his lap.

“I think you’re gonna have to,” he’s grinning ear to ear.

I pout, my hands resting on his chest.

“C’mon baby,” he prods, thumbing my lower lip. I take his thumb into my mouth, sucking on it. It clearly takes a lot out of him to take his finger out of my mouth, he seems to be turned on by the action.

“Fine. I want you to fuck me,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

“You’re lucky I like you so much. If anyone else were acting this bratty with me I think I’d have to teach them a lesson,” he smirks, the cocky promise clear in his eyes. Before I can retort he slips out of me, and I whine at the emptiness. I don’t like it.

Thankfully I don’t have to wait long because he lays me down, resting over me in a plank just as he was when we were “sparring.”

“Y’trust me?” His thumb comes up to meet my pulse point, his other fingers grazing across the bitten flesh of the juncture of my neck and shoulder, creating the most delicious sting. I nod frantically. “Words, baby.”

“Yes,” I whisper. His presses down barely a fraction harder, and yet it’s already enough to set me off even while being empty.

“I need you to promise me something, gorgeous,” he says, making the most intense eye contact I’ve ever seen from him.

“Okay,” I whisper.

“If you need me to stop, you tell me, okay?” His eyes are slightly wide, indicating how important to him this is. It’s easy to say: “Okay,” he has all of my trust. I kiss him for good measure, and we’re back. Fireworks gone off again halfway through as I take initiative to deepen the kiss before he can. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s stronger and so all consuming, and before I know it my mind is blank again. Blank and wanting one thing: him.

He gets up and I whine, not wanting him away from him. “Miss me already? My clingy girl,” he says affectionately, grabbing a pillow and putting it under my hips, kissing my stomach.

Settling above me once again, he lifts my legs up so that my ankles are resting on his shoulders, nearly bending me in half. But I let him, I’ll be as malleable ad he needs me to be if it’ll help him deliver on those promises.

“You sure you want this, sweets? Last chance to back out,” he tells me. I can’t believe he has the audacity to let the thought of me wanting to back out cross his mind. I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want him.

“I’m so sure. Fuck me, please,” I tell him. This is the strongest my voice has been this far, and I think he gets the memo.

“As you wish,” he grins, before sheathing himself in me in one go. I scream his name, but the noise is cut off by all air leaving my body as he thrusts into me at a literal superhuman pace. The sounds are ungodly, with every thrust a broken moan and the occasional grunt from him. He finds my g-spot with ease, slamming into it with every thrust ad he pounds me into his mattress.

“You sounds so pretty, maybe we should look into making one of those Internet videos.” I moan at the idea. I didn’t think starring in a porno would be my thing until he and his transatlantic 1950s accent suggested it.

“Yeah, everyone would want a piece of this pussy. But she’s all mine,” those last three words are punctuated with particularly hard, possessive thrusts that leave me gasping his name.

He brings his hand up to my throat once more, and the moment his thumb grazes my pulse point as it did before I realize just how much I want to come. “You like that, huh. Such a good girl,” I clench around him as he presses light pressure to my throat, and even though he’s not even done anything with my clit and it’s been maybe two minutes I’m coming hard and all-consumingly. It washes over me in waves that match Ben’s pace, seemingly getting more intense as he keeps fucking me.

“Oh sweetheart, you look so gorgeous when you make a mess of my dick. I’m hopin’ to see that five more times before the end of the night,” he tells me, but I barely hear him, too engulfed in my pleasure. He somehow adjusts the pillow under me while continuing his incessant pace and his grip on my throat and the new angle has me crying from how good it is.

“Aww, what’s the matter sweets?” he coos, knowing damn well what the matter is. It’s just too good.

“You’re so deep,” I sob, unable to gain my bearings because of how full I feel.

“Don’t I know it,” he groans, going impossibly harder. Eventually he takes his hand from my throat, and I whine, until he brings it down to my clit.

“Make it a good one, beautiful,” he winks with a click of his tongue before skillfully rubbing circles into my sensitive bud.

“Ben, it’s too much-,” I protest, but all it takes is a few more circles and I’m coming undone around him again. I’m both hyperaware of my tears soaking my face and the burn from the position of my legs but also on the verge of unconsciousness with how good it all feels. My legs are quivering around him but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“You’re okay, sweet girl, taking it so well,” he mumbles against my lips, kissing away my tears. I’d never had a lay so good that the guy had to reassure me that I was okay because I was shaking and crying uncontrollably from just how good it was. But then again, prior to tonight, I’d never had a lay with Ben.

He quickly brings me to the edge again, his fingers fast on my clit and his thrusts deeper than ever. When I come I can’t say his name, I can’t say much of anything because my mind is blank. Fuzzy, syrupy, I feel almost soft while the only noises I can make are little whimpers as he just keeps going. And I fucking love it.

“‘m gonna come,” he warns, and I muster enough of my bearings to tell him ‘please.’ He gladly obliges, coming with a loud grunt of my name, bottoming out so far inside me that he may damn well be in my cervix. I can feel it leaking out of me, and even in my fucked out stupor I can remember to moan. It’s the hottest feeling I’ve ever felt. He slowly pulls out then, gently easing my legs down.

I look up at him with questioning eyes, wondering why he doesn’t go for another three like he was planning to.

“Don’t want to break you on the first night, sugar,” he says, sweetly cupping my face in his hands. “I know you don’t feel it right now but you’re gonna be real sore in a couple hours.”

I pout, unsure of how to react to that. My legs are still shaking and while I do feel tired I’m still turned on.

Okay, maybe there’s dull ache.

“Oh, don’t pout. There’s other nights, and I’m gonna take care of you,” he smiles softly.

“Okay,” I whisper, finally regaining enough sense to talk.

He leans down to kiss me, softly this time. I melt into the kiss, and that’s when I realize: I don’t just want Ben. I think the feelings might be deeper. Maybe I… love? him.

But hey. There’s other nights.

****************************************************

As a bonus, cause I love y’all: if we can get 250 notes on this post by the end of the poll time then I will do a spicy soldier boy fic with whichever of these gets the most votes. If we can somehow get to 400 I’ll do the top two! No kink shaming, okay? 🥹🎀

In the meantime, if you want more Soldier Boy try Taming the Supe!! <3

For fans of Big Sky!Jensen, part two of 2SC (aka my favorite project thus far) should be coming out next!

And don’t forget, asks/requests/thoughts/thots are always open!!

[vadersassistant]

Irresistibly Yours One Shot (Darth Vader x Reader)

Summary: (Y/N) has been hiding across the galaxy for a year, attempting to flee her husband alongside Obi-Wan Kenobi, but now it is over. When the Sith finally tracks her down she must make a choice, continue to live a lie or leave with the man she loves. Takes place during Kenobi with altered events. Reader is previously a Jedi married to Anakin Skywalker.

Warnings: Make out session, mentions of sex, slight violence (not towards reader)

A/N: The poll I made landed in a 50/50 between suited Vader and nightfall Vader so I'm giving you the best of both worlds. In which, Vader wears the suit and mask, but he can take it off and looks like the Anakin we know and love.

“You have to go,” I demanded, turning away from the door in horror.

“(Y/N),” Kenobi pleaded.

“He wants me Obi-Wan, we don’t have a choice,” I reasoned. “You know he will continue to harm those people until I come out from hiding.”

“He’s going to try and take you.”

“And I’ll try and throw him off my trail, at least one of us needs to escape.”

“I understand,” he said, after a moment of silence.  “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

“May the force me with you Obi-Wan,” I nodded to him, saying the old phrase intentionally.

“You as well.”

I watched him enter the secret tunnels in the back of the workshop before it slid shut, and audibly sighed. I knew it was hopeless, it wasn’t possible to ever escape him. I couldn’t, not with how well he knew me. A part of me didn’t even agree with Kenobi, as he still believed in the Jedi and being heroes. I had changed, and their morals didn’t resonate with me any longer, not since the fall.

My body shook, as I ran as hard as I could once opening the door. It was loud on purpose, everyone standing in the little street seeing me and yelping in surprise. I saw the inquisitorious point in my direction, calling out my action for their lord. I could feel it, even though I couldn’t see his face beneath the mask. I could feel that he was looking at me, the two of us making eye contact for the first time in a year. He was massive, even taller than before and stronger than ever, right on my tail as I fled. I was quick, my legs carrying me into the maze of shipping crates and dirt from afar. I should have been quieter, but I knew that wouldn’t do much. He could track me in other ways, like the force.

His cold presence clung to my shoulders as I ran between the mounts that acted like walls. I needed to throw him off, but I knew it was impossible. He was too intelligent, too quick. His steps were twice as much as my own, the force connection that bound us inseverable. My heartbeat picked up, so much so I could hear it as if it were right in my ear. My hands were trembling lightly from the thrill of fleeing.

“There is no escape,” his modulated voice said, but I couldn’t tell where it came from.

“I’ll never join you,” I whispered.

The Sith was nowhere to been seen. I backed up, returning to my original pace and attempting to find him again in the pitch black, even though his suit was the same color. He hadn’t ignited his saber yet, although it didn’t make much of a difference, since I hadn’t ignited mine in months. In truth, I hadn’t touched a thing related to the Jedi in a year. All of it, including the force, I severed myself from, up until he started hunting me down.

He invaded my dreams, doing everything in his power to get to me. When he came, it wasn’t painful, it felt amazing, too good; feelings I only experienced in his presence. He tried to pleasure me, sooth me and coax me into joining him, promising to save me from Kenobi. He abused our connection from our time as Jedi’s, seeping into my conscious and speaking to my thoughts, ghosting my body with his invisible touch. Every time I thought of him, I thought of the past. I told myself I didn’t love him, but we both knew it was a lie.

“Really?”

I knocked into something hard, strong hands coming around my upper arms. They kept me in place with ease, essentially locking me in my tracks. I looked up and swallowed, knowing I was done for.

“Vader,” my breath was short. I wouldn't call him Anakin.

“My dear,” he said.

“I am not your dear,” I tried to back up, but it was no use. My chest tightened, feeling his thumb rub my skin comfortingly.

“Yet you are weakening in my hold,” he spoke sweetly, opposite of his reputation. If anyone else rejected him, they would be dead, neck snapped, I knew that.

“You’re a liar,” I said unfearingly.

“You are the only one lying here, (Y/N),” Vader replied. “Don’t deny me any further.”

His voice lit a fire across my entire body, smooth yet so deep I could have lost it right then and there. It took everything to keep my composure, a fake stubbornness still trying to hold up across my face. I wanted so badly to do a million different things. A part of me thought to leave, to escape and flee once again. But another part of me wanted to follow him, leave Kenobi behind, and go into the depths of hell.

“I will never join you, Sith,” I used his new title as an insult. “Now let go of me.”

“Your thoughts betray you, my love,” Vader said. "I feel your conflict."

“I hate you.”

“Hate is not an attribute of a Jedi, or you,” he entertained. “You are too caring to hate.”

He was right, always right, and knew me far too well. I sighed aloud, as he still held me and I could just feel the victorious expression through his mask.

“I married Anakin Skywalker, not you.”

“Anakin Skywalker still remains, but only for your pleasure,” he rebutted. “I am here, waiting for you, my dear. You and I can overthrow the emperor, become the galaxies newest destined rulers. Leave Kenobi and set yourself free, do what we both know you long to. We are mean't to be together.”  

I looked into his helm, hoping that I might see his eyes through the blacked-out visors. My lips parted just slightly, breathing hitched as my hands rested on the Sith’s chest. You could see it, Vader's muscles breaching the clothes he wore. The armor fitted his broad shoulders perfectly, hands so skilled and trusted. My head dipped, succumbing to what I truly thought.

“I’m supposed to kill you, to try and run away.”

“I know,” he leaned forward, his mask hovering over my head.

“I told myself I wasn’t going to do this,” I my hands turned into fists, pounding on his chest in frustration.

“But you don’t agree with Kenobi,” he finished.

“I don't."

“So, join me, my dear,” Vader coaxed, placing a leather glove on my jaw to tilt my head upward.

I breathed deeply, my pupils slowly dilating while taking him in.

“Take the mask off."

Surprisingly, the Sith didn’t argue. He let go of me and slipped his thumb around the rim of the helm, like he needed to turn something off. A hissing sound followed, confirming my suspicions, and he lifted it above his head carefully, dropping it onto the ground. I watched it fall, clinking on the ground as if he didn’t care for it. My eyes slowly trailed back up, seeing his true appearance in what felt like forever.

His hair was the same length, wavy and brown, yet in the face he had grown so much. His jawline was even more developed, the scar still remaining on the right brow. The most prominent feature was his eyes, gold with red rimming the irises. His gaze was more alluring than before, a look I easily got flustered from. He grinned at me checking him out and let out a sexy and low laugh.

“Still have the same effect, don’t I?” Vader asked, his actual voice being used.

“Even better,” the words formed before I could think.

His robotic arm curled around the back of my head, the two of us enclosed on the space between. I slid my arms between his neck, kissing him deeply without hesitation. It felt like a war between hell and heaven, holding my breath for as long as possible while taking the Sith in. The further we went, the worse it got, to where I wrapped my legs around his lower waist and he held onto my ass. We would take short breaths touching each other as much as possible during it, enjoying as much as we could, the both of us starved from one another.

It was no surprise Vader got the upper hand, trailing his lips over to my cheek and down to my neck. He carried me over to a tower of crates, one sitting alone in front of the stack, sitting me down on it gently. I leaned back as if it was a wall, and sounds slipped from my mouth naturally. They were rare to come by, not having heard them in months, my husband well aware. I felt Vader smile as he got onto the crate as well and trailed his hand up my thigh to my top. He was straddling me, making me feel like I was weak, and it was to die for.

More whimpers left my lips, and I knew what he wanted. The Sith fiddled with the zipper of my jacket, remaining eye contact with me while doing so. I could feel his hot breath against my skin, forcing me to shudder as he started to take my clothing off. I wanted him so badly, feeling his cod piece harden against my thigh, but we both sensed something nearby. The two of us froze, silent as his cloak shielded me from anyone’s line of sight.

“Obi-wan is near,” I whispered.

“He has come back to try to take you away from me,” Vader said, his hands now placed on both sides so that I was caged in. It was protective, the look in his eyes possessive.

“We must go, you have to have a ship nearby,” I told him.

“I do, follow me,” he nodded.

I slid off the crate, slightly upset we had been interrupted, but there wasn’t time to think about it. Obi-wan would never forgive me if he saw this, and I preferred that I remained on good terms with him. Vader called for his helmet with the force, it quickly suctioning to his hand and then being placed on his head. I kept up with him, weaving through the maze of construction until we got closer to the town. It seemed that most of the Imperial forces had been ordered to leave, Vader having called them off unsurprisingly.

The people that once lingered around were all inside, sleeping away in fear from what happened. Behind all of the buildings was a ship, the shadow of it coming into view from around the corner. It was the infamous Tie-Fighter the Sith always flew in, extremely well developed and luxurious. He lifted up the hatch with a wave of two fingers, offering a hand politely to help me up onto the top. It was only when he got in first and sat down that I realized where this was going.

The ship was small, meant to be a one seater and easy to maneuver. Vader took off his helmet once more before shooting me a suggestive look and patting the inside of his leg. It created little space for me to sit in his lap, but I didn't think much of it, all I knew was that what had stopped before was about to resume.

LMK what you all thought about this. I honestly can't decide which Vader I like more so this was very fun to write

[miniwheat77]

Soft. (Protective!Ghost x Reader.)

!CW! Ghost comforting reader, Mentions of SA, violence, I wanted smut to be in this but smut felt wrong for the sweetness, (lemme know if I missed any.)

(Summary): Ghost notices the way reader resists his advances and gets frustrated

I'm combining a few of the asks I got for this, hope you enjoy :) you can find them here and here

Ghost really didn’t mean to seem as persistent as he came across.

It took the both of you many months to begin dating, and many more to be so comfortable around each other and Ghost always tried his best to avoid the topic of sex. Not for any specific reason, but because he knew neither of you were ready for it. But after many months of dating, he’d made a couple advances. He was ready to take the next step with you, and neither of you had talked too much about it.

You either ignored him, or acted oblivious to what he was doing, it was on purpose and even he could tell. He assumed maybe you just weren’t ready but the insecurity got the best of him. Was there something wrong with him? Did you not find him attractive anymore? They got the best of him and before he knew it, he was losing sleep over it. He was a little more aggressive around you lately and you had a feeling why he was. You knew you’d eventually have to come clean about what was going on.

Ghost decided to give it one last try.

He approached as he normally had and was a little more aggressive than he meant to be. Pinning you against a wall and kissing you aggressively. “Simon-“ you tried pushing him off. “S-Simon stop.” You laugh, but he’s not stopping. Your smile falters at his persistence, flashes of what happened to you previously have you panicking slightly. “Simon enough!” You push him off. He groans out and the way he’s acting makes you uncomfortable. “Simon what the hell is going on?” You breathe. “Why won’t you have sex with me Hm? Is there something wrong?” He asks frustratedly. “Simon- what the hell?” You breathe. “Whatever Y/N.” He shakes his head, walking off. A sigh leaves your lips as he walks away.

You felt horrible afterward. You understood him wanting to take the next step with you, and understood him wanting to advance in your relationship this way.

Simon felt horrible. He’d pushed himself onto you way more than he initially anticipated, his forceful side got the best of him and he had made you uncomfortable. He needed to seek you out and apologize for his actions, but another part of him was hurt that you wouldn’t show any kind of initiative to further your relationship in that regard. Or at least give him some kind of explanation as to why you didn’t want it. He deserves to know. You fight against your better judgment and decide to give him some time to calm down, maybe it's a bad idea, maybe it isn't even meant for him, maybe it's meant for you. Time to think about what to say, time to relax for what you're going to have to tell him.

The following day, first thing in the morning, you're sneaking out to his room like you had done so many times in the past, walking right into his room. He's still asleep, and you sit down on the edge of his bed near him. He flinches awake as he feels the weight of you sitting next to him. Relaxing when he realizes it's you. He decides against saying anything, and instead pulls you into him. You lay next to him, sighing. "I'm sorry for yesterday Y/N." He breathes. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable and I'm sorry for being so forceful. I just wanted to take that next step with you." He sighs. "It's okay Simon." You breathe. "Is it something with me?" He asks. "What do you mean?" You look at him confused. "Do.. you not trust me? Or... find me attractive in that way?" He asks. "No. No Simon. Jeez." You breathe. "It's not that at all. Just.. Give me a minute to explain myself and It'll make sense okay?" You say. He nods his head. "I think you're stunning Simon. I think you are absolutely perfect in every single way and I should have opened up to you about this beforehand." You sigh.

"When I was younger, I had this boyfriend and he wasn't too kind." You breathe.

You go into more detail, voice breaking slightly as you explain everything he had done to you. The physical, psychological, sexual abuse.

By the time you finish, Ghost wants to hunt him down personally and torture him for what he had done to you. You were so nice and caring and patient with him. Finding out what you had told him has him fuming. You didn't deserve that. "The reason I didn't want to tell you is because I know how much you have gone through and I didn't want to add anymore to your full plate. I didn't want you to look at me differently." You sigh. He shakes his head. "Y/N." He breathes. "I love you." He cups your face, forcing you to look at him. "I love you and no matter what you've been through, no matter what you have done, no matter what has happened, nothing will change that." He breathes. "You are my everything. I would die for you, I've killed for you. And that bastard that put his hands on you deserves nothing more than my face being the last thing he ever sees." He sighs. He presses his lips to yours, trying to stop the tears that are running down your cheeks. "I wish you would have told me sooner sweetheart. I'm so sorry for pushing you so much." You laugh, trying to conceal the sobs that so desperately want to come out. "Simon, I know you'd never hurt me like that. I'm sorry for not telling you." You breathe.

He takes a deep breath. "I've had some bad stuff happen to me too." He looks down. "On a couple of the missions I've been on, I've been tortured and abused in a lot of the same ways." He sighs. You look up at him, eyes watering even more. You pull him into a tight hug. "I love you so much Simon. You didn't deserve that." He laughs. "Nobody deserves that. But you have to work through it. You don't have any other choices."

You lay there next to him for the next couple of hours. Not caring if you get caught in his room. The both of you need this. Need to relax into each other. Finding out that Simon had gone through similar experiences, it hurts you. Despite all of that, he still trusted you enough to want that passion with you and you had resisted his advances. He would never force you. He didn't want you to feel obligated. He wanted you to be completely comfortable around him.

-

You notice after having that conversation, he becomes more protective of you. Pulling you behind him when men approach you, staring them down, the slightest interaction had him stepping in front of you. It intrigued you a lot.

When you bring Simon home with you to meet your family, it's hard for him. He doesn’t wear his mask and he’s skeptical. But it goes well. Your family loves him and welcome him into their home with open arms. Simon is awkward and nervous, but he loves it.

“This is where I grew up, this was one of my first jobs.” You smile. Pulling into the familiar bowling alley. He laughs. He has his mask on, and he’s more comfortable now. “You go inside, I’m going to smoke.” He smiles. “I want to stay with you.” You follow him. You both walk to the end of the sidewalk surrounding the building to the furthest side. There’s a lot of old leaves built up and it’s a common place for people to smoke. A car full of guys pulls up, blaring music. You roll your eyes. You see all of them pile out of the car, making their way up to the doors nearest to you and Simon. “Simon-“ you grasp his hand. He sees a man following the group inside, noticing you. He says something to them, before stepping back and making his way toward the both of you. Simon pushes you behind him, and you stare at the ground. Hoping he’ll go away. “Hey.” The guy smiles. Simon stays quiet. “Can I help you?” He asks. “Oh, no. But she can.” Simon blows a puff of smoke through his mask. “Yeah? Who are you?”

When he says his name, Simon clenches his free hand together. This was the guy who had put his hands on you. “Who are you?” He asks Simon. Simon laughs, ignoring him. “I asked you a question. What the hell are you doing with her anyways? Don’t you know she’s in a relationship?” He crosses his arms. Simon is trying to hold himself back for your sake and your sake only. But he’s pushing his buttons. Simon tosses the cigarette on the ground, stepping on it. “Yeah. She’s in a relationship with me.” The guy rolls his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding. What’s with the stupid mask anyways?” Simon is fuming beneath it. “Just leave us alone.” You finally speak up. “I wasn’t talking to you, bitch.” He seethes, Simon takes a step forward quickly, grasping him by his throat and slamming him up against the concrete wall, making you flinch. Simon manhandles him like he weighs nothing. “Don’t talk to her like that.” He growls. “In the military they call me Lieutenant Ghost. I kill people like you for fun.” He breathes. He’s cutting off his air. “I’d kill you if she wasn’t watching me right now, because I respect her. If you come around her ever again, my face will be the last thing you ever fucking see. Am I understood?” He seethes. He nods his head. Simon draws back, knocking his fist into his face, one hard punch from the mountain of a man had him falling to the ground holding his face. Simon crouches down. “I pick my teeth with scum bags like you.”

He stands back up. “Come on sweetheart.” Ghost reaches a hand out to you, and you take it.

Simon doesn’t get to see the bowling alley, but he sees you pacing around inside of your apartment. You’re pacing back and fourth, something important clearly on your mind. He waits patiently for you to calm down, waiting for any sort of sign that you’re okay. “Y/N.. I’m sorry if I was too rough-“ you raise your hand, making him stop talking. He does immediately. Sitting down on your couch.

You wondered how the hell you managed to find someone like Simon. What on earth you had done to deserve him, the way he defends you. Seeing him put hands on that guy for you has your insides scrambling. You finally turn and look at him, and his eyes are full of remorse. Without thinking, you lean down, pressing your lips to his. He jumps a little but relaxes when he realizes what you were doing. You climb into his lap and he sighs into your lips, feeling you on him is some kind of relief he didn't know he needed to feel. "I can't believe you hit him." Are the first words out of your mouth when you pull apart. He laughs. "I wanted to do worse but.. didn't figure Price would appreciate that." He laughs. You relax into him. "I'd do anything for you." He brushes a hand through your hair. “I’d do anything for you too Simon. I just.. god. You’re so…” you think for a second.

“Hot.” The laugh that leaves Simons mouth is something you could listen to on repeat. “You’re hot too.” He breathes. Moving your chin to make you look at him. “Nobody touches you. Ever. Or they’ll deal with me.” He looks at you. “Am I understood?”

“Understood.”

[ckret2]

Tfw Wasting Away in the Goldilocks Zone is so thorough and well written that a lot of other “Bill Redemption” content kinda starts falling flat…I know not everyone has the stamina to write a 60+ chapter canon compliant magnum opus, especially if it’s art-heavy, but I can’t stop being like “nooooooo this is going way too fast his ass would not genuinely be trying to make things right yet!! THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE THE PART WHERE YOU FIND OUT THAT HE’S SECRETLY CONTACTING HIS DEATH VALLEY CULTISTS WHILE BEING NICE TO THE PINES’ FACES—“

lmao thank you!! tbh that's exactly the reason it's going so slow: because I have to convince myself it's reasonable for him to be changing at this pace, and I've got very high standards.

And if he's gone a trillion years without making a change, I can't believe that it's because he's never, in all that time, been shown genuine kindness or compassion, or never see how he impacts the victims, or never run into somebody he genuinely cares about before... If he's capable of caring about someone in less than a month in a redemption fic then he was capable of caring about someone in less than a month before now; and if he wasn't capable of caring about someone before now, for a trillion years, then he wouldn't suddenly be capable now.

If he is capable of caring about others, then he has cared about others before now... and if he didn't change for those people, why would he change for these people?

He's got defenses built up against being pushed to change! He's heard the arguments, he's been given the reasons, he's lost things he wants to keep and destroyed things that mattered to him and he's got justifications for why he shouldn't change anyway.

You can get away with a decent amount just by going "if he's now powerless and trapped, that forces him to dwell on things he could have previously avoided with a magical snap of his fingers"... but you can't get away with everything like that. I doubt there's any way to really truly "realistically" write the entire redemption of a guy who's had the same bad beliefs/habits engrained for 1,000,000,000,000 years; but at the least you've gotta try to address the fact that none of the moral quandaries he's facing are new to him, and first and foremost he's gonna try to default back to handling them the way he's always handled them.

[anincompletelist]

2025 wips!

hi all! :D

very low pressure tag to everyone (open tag as well!) to share what you're working on in 2025! I've hit a bit of a wall and need to get organized, and even though most of my fics are impromptu 4am ramblings, I figured I'd hold myself accountable here and make it into a game of sorts for anyone who might be inclined to do the same.

I hope you've all had a lovely new year so far! x

*obligatory slightly nsfw warning*

ex-marine henry

after being dishonorably discharged from his position in the royal marines that he never truly wanted in the first place, henry finds himself adrift, hoping to start anew in the states. he meets alex, a younger, freshly divorced lawyer with whom it appears at first he has nothing in common with, but soon finds much more than he bargained for as they embark on an at times tumultuous but ultimately fulfilling fifteen-year relationship, navigating the threads of vulnerability, grief, friendship, and love.

rejected soulmates support group

the world has begun to move past the singular thinking that one is incomplete without their soulmate. henry knows that many people live long, fulfilling lives on their own or with a partner that might not have been fate's first choice for them. but at heart he's always been a hopeless romantic, and when fate decides to take his soulmate's life before they've even met one another yet on the tail end of the still-raw grief of losing his father, it feels as if the world is against him. lonely and lost, henry reluctantly seeks out support in the form of a small group that meets once a week, each member bringing their own perspective of loss to the circle. he'd thought he'd decided on staying alone for the rest of his life, but alex, a kind, curious empath with plenty of baggage of his own, might be the fresh perspective he needs to give love another try.

the simple life au

as part of their damage control tour, alex and henry are forced to take part in a reboot of the show 'The Simple Life' with a twist -- they'll spend five episodes between texas and washington and five in the uk, taking turns learning what each other's day-to-day looks like. between the press junkets and lazy rivers in the states and the ballrooms and etiquette training in london, both of them find themselves with more empathy for the other than they'd anticipated. the cameras capture not only their fast friendship but the beginning of a burgeoning, unexpected romance as well, defying their initial objective and sparking tentative optimism for a previously impossible future. they're still far from free, though, as both countries have their best interests in mind and full control over what narrative is aired to the world. it's going to take a leap of faith to make it work, but alex is more than ready to show henry how to jump.

speak easy

alex, a computer science major, has never met a number he didn't like. until he starts failing the poetry section of his mandatory english course. encouraged to seek out a tutor, his professor points him toward henry, a known writer and fellow student that always seems to evade alex's attempts to get to know him more deeply. henry leads him through his own self-proclaimed five step program to becoming a 'poet', strengthening his voice and ultimately helping him pass the course. but finding his voice means visiting parts of himself that alex had previously kept locked up tight or hadn't even known were there in the first place, and sharing his realizations with henry forms a bond between them that not even the journals-full of prose passed back and forth can scratch the surface of. that won't stop him from trying, though.

+

detroit become human inspired au

henry and pez run a safe haven for those who were once machines, deemed faulty for having developed genuine humanity and facing imminent decommission if found out. the next evaluation is in less than 24 hours, and alex's humanity is at 94%. luckily, he makes it to henry just in time.

midnight cowboy

alex, the lead singer of the widely known and highly acclaimed band midnight cowboy, is henry's biggest guilty pleasure—which is saying quite a lot. as a professional escort for the rich and elite, almost none of his pleasure is guilty these days. it feels like a fever dream when he gets the request from alex himself asking to spend a night together. he's long since being anyone's experiment, but with alex, unfortunately, henry finds he enjoys the idea of being some kind of first. (is 'only' too much to ask for?)

gynecologist henry

alex has done the college thing. the dream job thing. the casual, short term relationship thing. on paper, he has everything he ever said he wanted. it'd just be nice if he had someone to share it with sometimes. it'd be even nicer if his sister would stop trying to set him up with her gynecologist, who evidently finds himself in the same position.

+1 for the let's talk about sex! series

henry attends therapy in brooklyn once alex has moved in and things have slowed down a bit. it's predictably difficult but for the better, until they begin to cover the topic of his past relationships -- more specifically, sex. facing realizations that can no longer be shoved away, henry confides in alex and they reevaluate what intimacy might look like for them in the wake of healing from trauma.

+2 for the let's talk about sex! series

henry has to switch antidepressants and worries that his decreased libido will cause issues with his and alex's active sex life.

+3 for the let's talk about sex! series

henry arrives home early one night to find alex touching himself, which prompts a conversation about alex's past partners, misplaced shame, and self-pleasure within intimate relationships.

chauffeur alex

alex is the personal driver for henry, secret writer and infamous royal who'd abdicated and come to the states in his 20's to live freely and to marry his husband. now in his near-forties, the glamour and novelty of his story having long since worn off alongside his failing marriage, henry finds that alex is the only one he can confide in without fear -- and who is convinced that henry deserves so much more than he's getting. the last thing either of them need is to get feelings involved, but neither can say they tried as hard as they should've to have stopped them.

+

texan slang +1's

henry's been learning spanish already for the last few years in an effort to connect more with alex and his family. he did not, however, prepare for the myriad of texan-ism's that he encounters once they're back in austin, which is beginning to seem like a language all its own.

aftercare (+4 for the let's talk about sex! series)

neither alex nor henry have been in a serious relationship before and are unfamiliar with aftercare since it isn’t something they had with their previous partners. after a particularly intimate and intense round of lovemaking, they find themselves both feeling a little lost and restless, leading to a conversation about how they can best be there for each other after sex going forward. 

bottoming 101 (+5 for the let's talk about sex! series)

alex wants to bottom for the first time post-canon. henry walks him through the process—even the not-so-glamorous parts—and alex experiences a newfound appreciation for the previously unknown efforts that they go to to express their love.

dom bottom alex

self explanatory, really.

.

plus probably a lot of random ideas and/or add-on's to current series!

.

.

.

tags (no pressure!):

@kiwiana-writes @rmd-writes @everwitch-magiks @run-for-chamo-miles @firenati0n

@zwiazdziarka @miharaikko @littlemisskittentoes @judasofsuburbia @anchoredarchangel

@suseagull5914 @porcelainmortal @nocoastposts @clockwrkpendrxgon @sophie1973

@iboatedhere @getmehighonmagic @smc-27 @cha-melodius @tintagel-or-cockleshells

@caterpills @eusuntgratie @inexplicablymine @happiness-of-the-pursuit @sparklepocalypse

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf @wordsofhoneydew @cricketnationrise @whimsymanaged @myheartalivewrites

@junebugclaremontdiaz @hypnostheory @blueeyedgrlwrites @futureseaempress @ninzied

@tinyarmedtrex @dizzymisslizzie @clottedcreamfudge @kj-bee @largepeachicedtea

@miss-minnelli @bananzie @starrypiscesao3 @fairflowered @4rthurfox

+ OPEN TAG please feel free to join in, and also if you're an artist feel free to modify it to include what art you're excited to make in 2025!

see you all soon! x

[mythosandthemorbid]

❤️‍🩹🔪Depollute Me, Pretty Baby - Chapter 3🔪❤️‍🩹

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CW: abandonment issues, Stockholm syndrome (or, foreshadowing for it), hurt/comfort but it’s Ren and Strade so yk it’s gonna be fucked, blood, violence, sadism, rape/noncon, Ren Hana is here to stay (officially a pivotal part of the story), same warnings as the source material, Boyfriend to Death.

Type: Strade x reader, first person POV of the reader

I groaned softly as consciousness slowly returned, the sting of my wounds immediately pulling me back into reality. My side ached where Strade had dug his fingers in earlier, and the dull throb of my arm cuts made every small movement unbearable.

The cold concrete floor pressed against my skin, its harsh chill a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from the blood that had dried over my body. Everything hurt, a constant, nagging reminder that Strade had done something, even if I couldn't remember the details just yet. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to.

"Mmgh... wuz hapenin.." I slurred, trying to piece together where I was. The room was dark, just like the last time Strade had left, and the silence wrapped around me like a blanket. I tried to sit up, my body protesting every movement. Something felt wet, warm... and ticklish. It wasn't right. I blinked groggily, my vision adjusting, only to be startled by a small yelp beneath me.

My eyes shot open. Ren– the fox boy who’d helped me previously–was between my legs, his eyes wide and panicked. "What doing has you?" I tried to demand, but my words came out jumbled, my mind foggy. Every part of my body ached too much to fight him off.

"I... I..." Ren stammered, his gaze darting around, avoiding eye contact. His chin glistened with something I instantly recognized–cum. The realization hit me as I tried to scoot away, but his claws dug into my thighs, holding me in place. The pain from his sharp nails sank into my flesh, intensifying the burning ache from my earlier injuries.

I winced, the discomfort shooting up through my body, but Ren's face contorted into something resembling desperation.

"Don't," he whispered urgently, his voice shaking as he clamped a hand over my mouth. "You'll get us caught," he hissed, his eyes flicking around the room nervously, as though Strade could walk in any second. His panic froze me in place.

His hands went back to my thighs, pulling me closer, and before I could comprehend what was happening, he lifted my legs over his shoulders and buried his face between them. His tongue darted out, exploring my folds with a practiced precision. I let out a small whimper, not sure whether it was from the pain of my wounds or the invasive sensation of his mouth. His tail wagged behind him, and he let out small purrs of contentment as if he couldn't hear the quiet sounds of discomfort leaving my throat.

Each flick of his tongue distracted me from the dull throb in my body. I couldn't push him away, even if I wanted to, not with my wounds. But as he continued, falling into a steady rhythm, I began to find that I didn’t quite mind as much as I thought I would. His grip on my had loosened, and even with his tongue he was being gentle, considerate. So, I lay there, forcing myself to stay still, trying to focus on the good parts. Ren seemed lost in his own world, oblivious to the pain I was in, or perhaps choosing to ignore it altogether.

After what felt like forever, he finally pulled back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. His eyes met mine, filled with nervous excitement. "I... I'm sorry," he muttered, "but I had to... I know Strade likes you. He has a fondness for you I.. I haven’t seen in awhile, and I think you'll survive… he’ll– he'll keep you." His words came out quickly, a strange mixture of guilt and hope. "I want us to get along. I can tell we're going to be best friends. I just thought... maybe this would help."

I stared at him, my body trembling from the pain. I’d tensed up again and it wasn’t helping at all, not with my wounds. I couldn't bring myself to be angry. I knew he was just as much a victim of Strade as I was. His wide-eyed innocence, his desperation to bond with me—it all made sense in a twisted way. I managed a weak smile, convincing myself I had to show him I wasn't upset. I couldn't afford to make an enemy of him, not here, not after he’d helped me.

He grinned at the smile I gave him. "I knew it," he whispered excitedly. "I knew you'd understand." He leaned in closer. "Strade doesn't know about this, but I think he'll appreciate me taking initiative. Still, let's keep it a secret for now."

I nodded, too exhausted to respond. Ren quickly gathered himself and slipped away, leaving me alone again in the cold, dark basement. My body ached, each wound pulsing with a sharp, relentless pain, with nothing to distract me anymore.

I wondered if I should try to move closer to the pole again. Ren didn’t seem concerned with it, and I had no idea how Strade had left me, so I decided to stay put. Every part of my body ached, and the thought of dragging myself across the cold, hard floor made my stomach twist with dread. The pain flared up with every shallow breath, my wounds pulsing angrily with the slightest movement.

The darkness around me felt suffocating, swallowing me whole. Silence pressed in from all sides, amplifying the throbbing in my wounds and the gnawing fear that maybe this time, I’d been left behind. Forgotten. Abandoned.

The thought brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes, my breath hitching as I tried to stifle the sobs rising in my throat. I can’t be alone. Not like this. My chest tightened with the fear, with the loneliness, but my body was too weak to even try to fight it off. The tears came anyway, hot and heavy, as I curled in on myself as much as my aching body would allow.

Every second felt like an hour, every small sound making my heart race in anticipation. I needed him to come back—needed—even though I knew he was the one who’d left me here in the first place. The pain and the fear muddled everything in my mind, making it hard to remember why I should be afraid of him. Right now, I just needed someone. I needed him.

My stomach growled loudly, reminding me how long it had been since I’d eaten, but I barely noticed it past the pain. Just when I thought I might scream from the silence, I heard it—the familiar creak of the door at the top of the stairs.

My heart leapt, relief washing over me like a wave as the heavy footsteps grew closer. Strade. He was back. I blinked away my tears, trying to calm my breathing as I waited for him to reach me. The door creaked open fully, and in the dim light, I saw his familiar silhouette descending the stairs.

“Moin, moin, buddy,” Strade’s voice rang out cheerfully, his tone far too bright for the situation. But hearing it, the tension in my body lessened. At least I wasn’t alone anymore. I managed a weak smile, though it barely reached my eyes.

His boots echoed against the floor as he approached me, crouching down beside me with that same carefree grin on his face. “Did you miss me?” he asked, almost teasing, reaching out to brush a tear from my cheek. “That’s a pleasant surprise,” he murmured.

I nodded, unable to hide the tremble in my hands. “I… I couldn’t sleep.”

Strade chuckled, his eyes lighting up with amusement. “Aw, you poor thing. All alone in the dark,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased. “Don’t worry. I’m here now.”

I sniffled, my throat too dry to respond, and watched as he reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a granola bar. “You’ve got to keep your strength up if you’re going to last, ja?” he said, unwrapping it for me. “Here. Eat.”

I opened my mouth slightly, not bothering to reach for it myself. My arms were too weak, my body too tired to even attempt it. He brought the bar to my lips, watching me closely as I took small bites, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

“Good job,” he praised softly, stroking my hair once I’d finished. “You’re cooperating so well today. I’m proud of you.”

I didn’t respond, my breath hitching again as the reality of the situation settled back in. Strade was back, yes, but so was the pain. And I knew that was what he enjoyed the most.

“Well, now that you’ve had breakfast,” Strade began, his grin widening, “we need to take care of those nasty little wounds. Can’t have you falling apart on me so soon, rechts?”

I flinched as his hand ghosted over one of the cuts on my arm, a fresh jolt of pain shooting through me. He laughed softly at my reaction, clearly enjoying it. “Ah, so sensitive. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle when I can. Can’t promise I’ll always be able to restrain myself, though...”

He pulled out a small first aid kit, setting it beside him as he started to move me into a sitting position. I whined softly, trying to help him as much as I could, but my body was too weak to be of much use. Every movement sent sharp, burning pain through my limbs, and I bit down on my lip hard to keep from crying out.

Strade hummed happily to himself, adjusting my position with ease, though his eyes never left my face. He watched every wince, every pained expression, his grin growing wider with each one.

“You don’t need to hold back,” he murmured, reaching for a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Go ahead, let it out. Scream if you need to. I love it when you scream for me.”

He poured a generous amount of the alcohol onto a cloth and pressed it to one of the deeper wounds on my side. The pain was immediate and excruciating, and despite my best efforts, I let out a choked yelp, my body jerking involuntarily.

“That’s it,” he cooed, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Gut gemacht. I knew you had it in you.” His hand lingered a moment longer on the wound, applying more pressure than necessary, as if savoring my agony.

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but I didn’t fight them this time. It was pointless. Strade wanted this. He wanted me to cry, to scream, to suffer for him.

As he continued to clean my wounds, occasionally slipping into German, his tone almost affectionate. I gave him an hesitantly appreciative look, despite not knowing what he was saying exactly. “So mutig,” he whispered, “so schön,” as his fingers brushed over the raw skin. His touch was soft at times, but it never lasted long before the pain returned, sharp and unrelenting.

The strangest part was that, despite the pain, despite everything, a part of me was still relieved he was here. He had a way of making it feel like I wasn’t completely alone, like my suffering mattered to someone. Odd as it was, it was better than the crushing silence.

“There, all done,” Strade finally said, standing up and wiping his hands clean. “You did so well, liebchen. I’m proud of you.” He leaned down, planting a kiss on the top of my head.

I blinked, the exhaustion from the pain overwhelming me as I tried to process everything. My body trembled, but I couldn’t help but feel the faintest warmth at his words. I hated how much I needed his approval, but right now, it was all I had.

Strade smiled down at me, his eyes glinting with slight amusement. “You’ll be perfect for me, you know. Just the way I like you.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked up at Strade, my body aching from the wounds he’d inflicted. The silence had gnawed at me, filling me with the unbearable fear of being forgotten, left alone. “A-are you going to do something?” I asked softly, almost hopeful that he would, if only to keep me close.

Strade looked down at me with a broad grin, his expression far too cheerful for the situation. He tilted his head, pretending to consider my question before laughing. “Oh, no, not today! I’ve roughed you up way too much for that right now. Can’t risk breaking my favorite toy, can I?”

My heart raced, a strange mixture of relief and disappointment flooding through me. I didn’t want him to hurt me, but the fear of being left alone again made my chest tighten.

He crouched beside me, lifting my chin with a rough hand, his touch almost playful. “But don’t worry, I’m not gonna leave you alone.” His eyes gleamed as he added, “I’ve got plans. I’m in a really good mood, so I’m going out to find some new toys to play with.” His tone was light, as if he were talking about nothing more serious than running errands.

I blinked, the words catching in my throat. New toys. Right… I wasn’t going to be part of that. A small wave of comfort washed over me, but it didn’t completely chase away the anxiety gnawing at the edges of my mind.

Strade ruffled my hair, his grin widening. “You’ll be staying in the side room while I’m out. It’s cozy in there, you’ll like it. And hey, this way you don’t get jealous when I bring someone else back to ‘play with.’ Wouldn’t want that, would we?” He winked, clearly amused by his own little joke.

I forced a small smile, not wanting to upset him. “No… I wouldn’t.”

“Good.” He stood up, offering his hand. “Now, up you go.”

I reached for his hand, but my muscles screamed in protest, making it impossible to stand. Strade chuckled and tugged me up just enough to get me crawling. “Go on, that’s it. Crawl your way to the side room. Don’t worry, I’ll help a little.”

He supported me just enough to keep me moving, but it was still humiliating, the feeling of helplessness sinking in deeper with each painful movement. The ache in my body was overwhelming, but I focused on getting to the room, desperate to not be left behind in the cold, dark basement.

Finally, we reached the side room. It was warmer, with a couch, a small TV, and a table with snacks and drinks—almost homey compared to the rest of the basement. Strade helped me onto the couch, letting me collapse against the cushions with a sigh of relief. My body still throbbed, but at least here, it felt a little more bearable.

“Now,” Strade said, pulling a metal shock collar from behind his back (how long had he had that for?), “just so you don’t get any funny ideas…” He fastened it around my neck, the cold metal biting into my skin. The click of the chain connecting me to the wall echoed through the room, sealing my fate. I winced at the weight of it, knowing that I wasn’t going anywhere.

“There. All set.” Strade gave the chain a light tug, testing its strength, before standing back up. “I’ll leave you with someone so you don’t get lonely, though.”

Before I could ask what he meant, the door creaked open, and a boy with wild orange hair and wide, curious eyes stepped inside. I recognized him immediately—Ren. He seemed much more relaxed now, though, his tail wagging slightly as he looked between me and Strade.

“This is Ren,” Strade introduced cheerfully, clapping a hand on Ren’s shoulder. “He’ll be keeping you company while I’m out. You two should get along just fine.” His smile widened as he glanced down at me. “Ren’s got his own collar too, but he’s earned the privilege of moving around without a chain.”

Ren smiled at me, his excitement clear. “Hi! Strade said you’re new here. Don’t worry, we’re gonna get along great!” His eyes sparkled with a strange kind of enthusiasm, and it was clear he didn’t share my anxiety about the situation. He was doing a good job at pretending we hadn’t met before, too.

Strade gave me a final pat on the head. “Now, don’t go causing trouble, yeah? Ren’ll help you out with anything you need—food, drinks, whatever. You’re too beat up to do much on your own right now, but you’ll get better.” He smirked, his voice softening into a mockingly sweet tone. “I want you nice and healed up for when I come back. After all, I can’t have you getting in the way while I break the fresh meat.”

I nodded weakly, still trying to process everything. Ren seemed eager, almost too eager, but at least I wasn’t going to be left completely alone. That was something. The last thing I wanted was to be abandoned, left to rot in the dark.

Strade gave me one last grin before turning on his heel and heading for the door. “Be good, both of you! I’ll be back soon, and don’t worry, I’ll have plenty of fun stories to share when I do.”

As the door creaked shut behind Strade, the silence weighed heavily in the room. I glanced at Ren, who was fidgeting, his tail twitching behind him as if trying to keep up with his restless energy. His eyes flickered between me and the floor, his nervousness palpable.

“I’m, uh… sorry,” he mumbled, breaking the silence. His voice was quiet, almost ashamed. “About… everything.”

For a moment, I didn’t respond. The ache in my body and the fear of being abandoned still loomed large, but Strade had reassured me—he’d be back. I just had to hold on to that. And Ren… maybe there was potential there. If I made myself important enough to both of them, maybe I wouldn’t have to worry about being left behind again. That thought was enough to ease some of the tension in my chest.

“It’s okay,” I whispered after a beat. “We just have to… make it through this.” My voice was weak, but sincere.

Ren looked up, his ears twitching slightly. He gave a small, hesitant nod, but then his entire demeanor seemed to shift. He perked up, a sudden excitement flashing in his eyes. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right!” His tail wagged a little, his nervousness melting away. “We’ll make it through this. And hey, at least we’ve got each other now, right?”

His newfound enthusiasm was almost contagious. I couldn’t help but feel a small bit of relief—it was better than being completely alone.

Ren sat up straighter, clearly trying to make the best of things. “So… what do you want to do? I mean, there’s not much, but…” He trailed off, then grinned as if struck by inspiration. “Wait, I know! How about I put on something fun? We could watch my favorite anime.”

Before I could respond, Ren hopped up and grabbed the remote, flicking on the TV with an almost childlike excitement. The screen flickered to life, and he quickly found his favorite show. “You’ll love this one,” he said, his voice bubbling with enthusiasm. “It’s got action, cool characters, and… well, you’ll see!”

He hurried over to the small stash of snacks and drinks, gathering a few things and setting them down on the table near me. “Here, I got us some stuff.” He popped open a bag of chips and offered me a drink, his energy so vibrant that it was hard not to smile.

I shifted slightly, wincing at the pain from my wounds. Ren noticed immediately and frowned. “Hold on, let me help with that.” He moved over to me, his hands gentle as he carefully repositioned me on the couch, mindful of the aching spots Strade had left behind. His touch was much softer than I expected, a stark contrast to Strade’s rough handling.

He settled back after a moment, glancing at me with concern. “Better?”

“Yeah… thanks,” I said, offering him a small smile. It wasn’t forced this time. Ren might’ve been part of this twisted world, but at least he wasn’t hurting me. In fact, he seemed to want to help.

“Good!” Ren grinned again and settled next to me, though his focus remained on making sure I was comfortable. “You’ve been through a lot… but don’t worry, I’ll take care of you while Strade’s out. Promise.”

He shifted again, his hands moving to gently massage my shoulders, careful not to aggravate my injuries. “I can tell you’re stressed,” he murmured. “Just relax, okay? I’ve got some painkillers too. You’ll feel better soon.”

His hands moved in slow, soothing circles, and despite the pain, I felt myself relaxing more than I thought possible. The TV played in the background, but Ren was the main focus—his care, his attentiveness, his effort to make me feel less alone.

I sighed softly, letting the tension in my body ease as he continued his gentle ministrations. The pain was still there, but it was muted by the growing sense of comfort. Ren wasn’t just some mindless follower; he was trying to make this bearable, and I could work with that. I needed him to see me as someone worth keeping around, someone irreplaceable.

As Ren kept chatting about the anime on TV and the snacks he’d picked, I found myself warming up to him more. The forced smile I’d worn earlier started to soften into something genuine. I laughed a little at his enthusiasm, the sound surprising even me.

“See? I told you we’d get along!” Ren beamed, clearly pleased with my reaction.

I nodded, leaning into his care. “Yeah… I think we will.”

And for the first time in not just the past few days, but in awhile, I didn’t feel so alone.

[lu-is-not-ok]

In the roadmap of this season, the new .5 shown is one seemingly related to the sweepers. Given each of the .5s/second .5s were ones that setup for their next cantos I am wondering what sort of info you wish to glean from it?

I myself am rather interested in sweeper lore generally, so more about that, and perhaps the dynamics between them will again parallel Gong Lu's family. I wonder if Dante’s autotranslate for distortions will allow them to speak with the sweepers, they do seem to be standing in front of them in that teaser image.

I am. So excited anout that intervallo.

So here's a brief list of things I'm excited for, plus maybe a few silly predictions cause why not:

Since we're dealing with Sweepers, we're likely going to be in the Backstreets of whatever District Canto 8 is gonna take place in. I'm really excited to learn more about the worldbuilding for the Backstreets. Plus you fucking know Rodya is gonna have some shit to say about the class disparity, as is often the case.

Sweepers are in this interesting place of having Family-like structures, but having them work in a similar way to Bloodfiend Families - in that one can choose to become part of a Sweeper Family rather than being forced into being born into it. Considering how Fanghunt Hong Lu is the way he is, I hope facing that idea of choosing one's own Family so directly will elicit some sort of reaction out of Hong Lu.

An introduction to a new faction. I doubt they can make Sweepers into IDs (they're not like power armor where you can have the helmets be conditional, nor are they like prosthetics where you can only have a part of the face be replaced), so if they go with Event Identities we're gonna need something else for those. I'm personally hoping for a Syndicate because I like em.

Partially related to the above, I'd love to see a plot that at least partially parallels/references the Sweepers chapter in Distortion Detective. For those who don't know, there's a short arc in DD where Moses and co end up stuck out in the Backstreets during the Night and are forced to weather the waves of Sweepers while looking for shelter. Moses is able to tell they'll be unable to survive through all three waves of Sweepers, so they try to get the people already in hiding to let them in. Eventually, someone does - a group of Thumb members, causing Moses and co to have to make a deal with them to stay overnight. I'm hoping the Intervallo will have some sort of parallel to that, where the Sinners will be forced to make a deal with someone (potentially the faction used for Event IDs hopefully) to survive the night.

In general, some sort of Hong Lu nuclear bomb is inevitable. Something with the same dramatic impact as the Don Quixote being a Bloodfiend reveal at the end of Warp Express. My bet is on a proper reveal that he's a runaway, and that his previously stated reasons for leaving home (alongside perhaps some other things he's said) were a complete lie all along.

Which, speaking of Hong Lu being a runaway. Here's my silly prediction for what setup they could use for the Intervallo's plot that I've been rotating in my head for a bit now. Imagine, if you will, Hong Lu recognising that the District the bus is heading into is his home District. Imagine the panic that would stir within him. What if, in the middle of the night, Hong Lu does what he's tried once before and attempts to run away again. He disappears from the bus, and similarly to that one mini episode where Heathcliff almost got lost to the Backdoor, Faust is immediately concerned over retrieving him. Especially if being turned to liquid by Sweepers is one of those things Dante might not be able to rewind.

[hayden-christensen-verse]

⋆｡˚୨ Oh Force ୧˚｡⋆

synopsis: anakin is away on a mission and (y/n) is back home on coruscant and feeling lonely and what better way to cure that loneliness than to force fuck you husband

warning: SHIT WRITING, reader is apart of a species that can has both reproductive organs that can be shifted between (kind of like the stew-john obi wan au), force phantom hands, dick, mouth. ghost cum lmao think force ghost, Anakin is ascending to another plain, consensual somnophilia, reader has a muscular body due to also being a jedi. this makes absolutely no sense lmao

here pookie @bimbo-baggins17

no ones pov

the shuffling of sheets are heard in the quiet bedroom upon the Venator-class Star Destroyer. Anakin tosses and turns before laying on his belly and letting out a huff, finally starting to drift off to sleep, his tense muscles relaxing unbeknownst to him his darling wife has other ideas

(y/n) pov

i lay on me and Anakin's bed in our home on coruscant, the longing and lust for the pretty jedi increases as i shift around on the firm bed. sighing i throw of the blanket off and run my hand down my chest, giving my boobs a nice squeeze and pinch and pull on the bud. i continue my way down my body i slide my hand under my panties and rub my clit in tight mild circles, tossing my head back in a breathy moan. i part my legs wider to slip a few fingers into my moist hole and slowly stretch myself open, after i loosen up i start thrusting my fingers faster and adding more fingers. i feel my climax approaching as i bite my lip and let out a load moan as i squirt drenching the bedsheets. i pant heavily as i calm down and i begin to think and remember something that Anakin did to me during a council meeting a few months prior. a wicked smile makes its way onto my face as i shift my cunt into a cock, one that matches Anakin in size and width, giving it a few strokes i begin my plan and Anakin is in for a surprise~

Anakin's pov

i lay on my belly in a deep sleep completely unaware of what's about to happen. i wake up still dazed to something spreading my cheeks open and something wet tracing my hole. puling off the blankets and seeing ghostly form of my wife as she holds my cheeks apart and her ghostly tongue lapping at my hole, i lets out a soft moan as i become more alert. i feel an tingling in my head then i hear her voice in my head saying this is pay back for what i did months ago. slowly she pushes her tongue into my hole, stretching me out. i grip the sheets as she eats me out, she reaches up and puts her ghostly fingers Infront of my mouth to suck, i part my lips and take her fingers in and suck and lather her fingers in my spit. she pulls her fingers out and brings them down to push into my ass and stretch me open. after a few minutes she takes the out and flips me onto my back and throws my legs over her shoulders, putting me into a mating press.

"you ready pretty boy, ready for me to breed that pretty little ass of yours~?" she whispers out, i nod and let out a garbled moan as she prods against my puckered hole before pushing in. i throw my head back loudly moaning as i grip the sheets tightly, my back arched into the air. she slides in fully and stills waiting for me to adjust to the sudden intrusion. i give a chocked out 'move' in between light cries. she starts thrusting and picking up the pace as i loosen up for her cock, pounding my ass repeatedly. the wet and sticky noises of fluids bounce of the walls along with grunts, moans and cries from the both of us. she leans down and captures my lips into as kiss as she reaches between us and grasps my cock, finding out that its rock hard and dripping pre. she pumps my cock in tandem with her thrusts, causing me to squeal in pleasure at the dual stimulation as i squirm wildly trying to escape. my climax rapidly approaches as does her seeing as she's going faster then she was previously. throwing my head back, eyes rolling into my head, mouth open as scream cumming in her ghostly hand and my abdomen, i feel her cumming in my ass as she slightly rocks her hips to prolong our orgasms. she ghostly form pulls out, smirking as she watches her ghostly blue cum dribble out of my fucked hole, she scoops it up and pushes it back in as she lowers my legs from her shoulders. she peppers ghostly kisses on my face along with praises before disappearing leaving me alone in my room. I'm thankful that the rooms are sound proof and nothing can be heard, it would be awkward to explain the sounds. i lay there lip, in a fucked out haze, my hole twitching and leaking the semi transparent blue cum onto the sheets as i think of what the hell just happened as i pass out into a deep slumber knowing im gonna be sore in the moring.

(y/n) pov

I pant as I lay on my bed, letting out a giggle with a lopsided smile on my lips, as I push my hair out of my face. I know I'm definitely getting it when he returns home for this little stunt, and I can't wait

[taylormarieee]

Unspoken Feelings...

part 5.

social media au: Charlie Bushnell x Fem!Actress!Reader

Previously on Unspoken Feelings...

Your sitting there contemplating on whether or not you should really answer Charlie or not. You finally turn back on your phone and see a whole bunch of worried and missed calls from Walker, Dior, Leah, and Charlie... Oh god what have you done... Just as you were about to call them back you hear a knock on the door... Who could that be?

Now...

You get up and open the door seeing a worried Dior standing at the door.

"Oh thank god your ok!" she yells ut hugging you. You stumble back from the force of her hug a little bit and hug her back.

"I'm sorry. I just, I don't know how to tell Charlie." You say breaking down into tears again.

"Shhh... It's ok girl. He's on his way here. You have to just push through for now. You've got an interview coming up in a few hours so get some sleep and we'll figure it out later ok?" She says trying to reassure you in the best way possible. "I'll stay with you tonight, I love you!" She says lastly before guiding you to your bed.

"Ugh I love you too. What would I do without you?" You say smiling weakly. Your eyes flutter shut and you let sleep overtake you.

The next morning has arrived and you wake up. You don't see Dior next to you anymore so you assumed she went back home to tell her dad that she's ok.

You get up and brush your teeth and do your whole face routine before going back to your nightstand to pick up your phone.

You still see all the texts from Walker and Leah, and Charlie... You decide to call Charlie first. You press his name and listen to the phone ring.

When you feel like he's not going to answer you decide to hang up the phone but your thumb is stopped by the sound of his voice on the phone.

"Y/N!? Are you ok??? P-Please tell me your ok." The phone breaks up a bit but you hear his worried tone.

"Morning Charlie. I'm ok, I turned off my phone. I'm sorry for making you all worried especially you." You say feeling the tears come up in your eyes again.

You sniffle and try to get the words out but Charlie is quick to say something first.

"Pretty girl? Why are you crying?" He asks his heart feeling hurt as he hears your sniffles on the other line.

"I-I just, I don't know how to deal with all these feelings I have. The feelings I have f-for you..." You mutter out.

"You have feelings for me too? Cuz I also have feelings for you. I was scared to tell you because idk, you were giving me mixed feelings i guess. One minute were flirting and he next I feel like I'm in the friend zone again. You know what I mean?" He says as he paces around his hotel room.

"Yea, I know what you mean. The only reason I did that was because I always overthink things. I never knew if some days you were just flirting with me or just being nice. I never knew which one was happening so some days I would flirt and other days I'd shut myself out. I'm sorry Charlie."

"It's ok pretty girl. I love you yn. With all m heart. Your my future and probably the love of my life." He says chuckling into the phone.

That causes you to giggle and you feel all flustered. "I guess I'll see you at the Interview?"

"Yea, I'll see you there."

"Bye Charlie."

"Bye baby."

Your mood suddenly lifts at his voice. At the way he called you baby, pretty girl and the way he comforted you. God what did you do to deserve a man like Charlie.

You decide to text the groups chat and let everyone know your ok. Finally you check the time and start to get ready. You ordered some breakfast and indulged while you watched some TikTok.

| Y/N |

♡💬 Liked by aryansimhadri, leahsavajeffries, dior.n.goodjohn and others.

y/n- Me and Charlie on our way to an interview!!!

roseyposey- eeeeeee can't wait to watch it!

loveydoveydove- Oooooooo so excited! Glad everything's ok!

leahsavajeffries- You look gorgeous!

↪y/n- Thank you pooks.

walker.scobell- Hey gremlin:)

↪y/n- Hey waterboy;)

iamcharliebushnell- Stream the 7th episode of Percy Jackson and the Olympians now!!!

IlovePJO1- I'M SO EXCITED FOR THE FINALE!

↪y/n- YESSS! ME TOO! I CAN'T WAIT FOR YOU GUYS TO SEE IT!

| Y/N |

♡💬 Liked by walker.scobell, leahsavajeffries, aryansimhadri, and others.

y/n- No, I didn't forget Walker! This post goes out to my favourite little boy! WALKER SCOBELL! I love this little kid sooo much! He's so funny, incredibly kind and very mischievous! I loved being on set with him it was honestly just an amazing time with everyone! I love you so much Walker! Your so talented and the closet boy I call a brother. Love you Walker💕 My little son of poseidon🪸

walker.scobell- I LOVE THIS! THANK YOU! I love you too! And for you information I AM NOT MISCHIEVOUS! You little gremlin!

↪y/n- Ok waterboy! Keep telling yourself that!

dior.n.goodjohn- Little bro! This is so cute! Love you @ walker.scobell

↪walker.scobell- Love you too Dior!

leahsavajeffries- LUV YOU @ walker.scobell

↪walker.scobell- LUV YOU TOO WISE GIRL!

iamcharliebushnell- I WITERALLY WUV YOU @ walker.scobell

↪walker.scobell- and I WITERALLY WUV YOU MORE CHARLIE

aryansimhadri- YOU MY ROMAN EMPIRE WALKER!

↪walker.scobell- WUV YOU!

| iamcharliebushnell |

♡💬 Liked by y/n, walker.scobell, dior.n.goodjohn, roseyposey, and others.

iamcharliebushnell- It's official! Me and @ y/n are together. I love her so much and these are some of my favourite memories with her this week. I love you so much my love, and don't worry, we can do this.💕

y/n- I love you so much Charlie. I'm going to miss you so much when you leave. I'll be calling you everyday and thinking about you non-stop. I love how kind and caring you are bubba. I love you my little hermes boy! My mischievous thief:) Mwah!💋

↪leahsavajeffries- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

↪walker.scobell- There literally so cute OMGGGGG!

↪dior.n.goodjohn- LITERALLY MY ROMAN EMPIRE!

roseyposey- THEY LEGIT TOLD ME HOW SINGLE I AM IN 30 LANGUAGES!

Loveydoveydove- AHHHHHHHHHH! THERE FINALLY TOGETHERRR!

↪roseyposey- THERE SO CUTE RIGHTTTTT???!!!!!

Taglist: @lizziesfirstwife @angelicdanvers @prettyinsatiable @angelinajolie0213 @maryann2013 @kneehe-nehar7 @rhydianissuperior @urmomsbananabread @reader-bookling123 @istillremberthefirstfallofsnow @csifandom @repostingmyfavs @leo-lvr @glorywielder101 @aanoia @madelainelupin16 @ahh-chickens @callsignwidow

A/N: Heyyyyy! I'm extremely sick but I thought I'd pop out with this! Idk when I'll be able to get around to the fic because I'm almost finished writing it but I just lost motivation to finish it. I believe it's because I'm so sick but idk! Hope you all enjoy!

~COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED~

[kumerish]

really love blind alley, i have an odd question though: do you have a pronouns guide for the kids or are you just leaving them up for reader interpretation? (other than red who has already been asked about)

Thank you!

A: Not an odd question. I think about this a lot too. I've spent a really long time trying to order my thoughts on this in a coherent way.

I am intentional when I use pronouns. When we know, that means it's part of how a character conceives of themself. The reverse is also true. I feel a bit at odds with myself here though; despite previously making a post about the importance of ambiguity and interpretation in my storytelling, this is one area where I'd prefer people just accept that lack of certainty instead of theorizing.

I want us to be able to conceive of them as people and characters without categorizing them. Unfortunately, I can't force anyone to do this without being extremely didactic or overt and I find that sort of writing to be boring and easy to dismiss. People always misgender my characters. It doesn't upset me but it does make me feel like I am failing to get across my intentions. As with all art, you can't force someone to read and engage with it how you intend. Maybe I am just not conceptualizing this properly and there's a better way to do it. However, I am not comfortable imagining readers theorizing on a characters gender because that makes it feel like something withheld for some grand reveal. Gender just doesn't matter to some of these characters and within my own relationship to them; I would like that to be the case for my readers too.

This isn't to be dismissive of gender/sexuality and how strongly this can inform ones identity. However, and maybe it's naive of me but, I'd love to live in a world where gender and sexual orientation do not always factor in to our ability to relate to each other. Writing this way feels like putting to practice something important to me.

This desire to be comfortable with not knowing is partly in response to my general frustration with our inclination to constantly categorize people, ideas, and processes. I believe this inclination does endless harm. We want things to be finite, fixed, and known but when reading about biology, philosophy, and ecology, it's clear there are no fixed or singular points. It's all process, flux, and in between; that's where we live. That's also where cartoons live.

Blind Alley doesn't exist. There is no way for anyone to confirm anything about it. It is all relational cartoon abstraction; it is only what I draw and say and what you take from that. My hope is that, while an individual may have an interpretation of what I've written, a reader will also consider why it is written that way. I'm not certain how to force readers to sit with not knowing things - it's clear we all want answers but, philosophically and artistically, I think that getting comfortable with not needing to know is an expansive thing.

I'm also aware I am writing a comic strip; people engage with them in a certain frame of mind. I shouldn't overstate any of this because I am incredibly aware that I am writing a dumb comic strip with fart jokes and stupid gags. I unfortunately put a lot of pretentious thought into this.

So, to answer your question, I only know when it matters to the type of character I am writing. I am not withholding this information so I can do some sort of reveal later; it just feels right to write characters this way.

[lani-heart]

|| series masterlist || next // previously ||

parings -> park jay x reader genre -> non-idol au, school au, hybrid au warnings -> mental health, abandonment issues, etc. word count -> 1.8k

abstract -> people aren't as they seem... but they are always redeemable

jay’s perspective

She didn’t fight it not like I really expected her to but… what did e/n mean by murderer? How did the two even know each other? I’ve been left confused and questioning it as I found myself in the same cycle my life has been. With fancy clothes, jewelry, fancy food… and yet I was just a temporary trophy.

It felt pathetic. 

“Back to being a part of the upper class huh?” I heard Sunghoon sitting next to me. He was someone I knew for a brief amount of time. Some would say he was… a nice guy before his owner got amnesia. 

Sunoo… a poor fox hybrid who wants to please his owner he was severely abused. He was kind and kept to himself but he defended Sunghoon sometimes. That made me believe there was more to the famous snow leopard. 

Someone better than the bully to everyone, even his owner. 

“Do you know why I hate you, bird?” he asked and I shook my head. “y/n and e/n were best friends with my owner a long time ago” he said and I was shocked at the revelation. e/n never would associate herself with… someone who wasn’t in the same financial class as her. 

“y/n was from a well-off family before getting disowned for what they did–” disowned? “e/n though… deserves all the karma y/n got as well. I don’t like either of them let that be clear but there are rumors about you, you oversized chicken” he said and I scoffed. 

“Since y/n was keen on adopting you e/n is now keeping you to spite her” he said and I let my eyes widen. “And where did you hear that?” I asked and he chuckled. “Rumors, I don’t know if it's true but… it does piss me off,” he said and I wondered…

“What did they do?” I asked and his facial expressions turned to hatred. He looked at me with sad but vengeful eyes… 

“Almost killed my owner”

y/n’s perspective

I just had to continue my life as I did before. 

Study and become someone worthy of forgiveness. Someone who helps people… it's why I changed my major after all/ I want to help people as a doctor to atone for my sins.

To finally be able to face her again. 

“You need to take a break” Haechan begged for what it felt like the hundredth time. “I’m sorry for forcing you but I wanted you to get better,” he said and I didn’t want to listen. “It’s fine… I know my limits. I don't need someone taking care of me” I said and he sighed.

“But you do… you're self-destructing. You need to learn to forgive yourself… she already has” she said and I scoffed. “She’s an idiot who doesn’t remember anything! She can’t forgive me if she doesn’t remember what I did!” I yelled and he sighed. 

“You’ve been punished already… you’re just punishing yours;more besides you weren’t completely at fault. You weren’t the only one there” he said and I felt tears blur my vision. 

“But I could’ve stopped it…” I muttered. “You weren’t the one who organized it… you were framed and you couldn’t do anything again e/n. You’re a better person now than before… just please remember you need to calm down and try to accept what happened– What really happened and try to forgive yourself” he said and I sighed. 

“Haechan… I really liked having company for once” I admitted and he smiled. “Jay is complicated but I think he liked you. He just protects himself from getting hurt… like you” he said and I sighed and even let out a chuckle. 

“When did you become mature?” I teased and he scoffed. “Oi! I have always been this way!”

I wanted Jay back… he was nice for the one time he was and now that I look at it through Haechan’s clarity… he was pushing me away like how I did everyone I met when I first crumbled from where I stood. 

I knew though I couldn’t get him back… I had to accept it and move on. 

“Ah! y/n!” I heard someone who made my blood run cold. “Huh? What are you doing?!” I heard the angry snow leopard. “It's been a while! How have you been!” she asked with that same smile… she was also too innocent and sweet to be around me and e/n.

“G-good how’s the… treatments going?” I asked and I noticed people now staring and gossiping around us. She smiled brightly though…

“Good! Sunghoon helps a lot!” she said and I was glad. “Sunghoon said you had a hybrid–” “Not anymore” he muttered, cutting her off to look at me sadly. “Oh… sorry I must’ve forgotten,” she said and I shook my head. 

“No… it's not your fault” I said and she nodded softly. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself?” she asked and I chuckled. “I should be saying that,” I said and she smiled. “Well, let's make that promise together huh?” she asked and all I could do was smile.

“Sunghoon has a bit of training in the ice rink so I have to go but please don’t forget to take care of yourself… and maybe we can hang out again?” she asked I smiled and said sure and our goodbyes. My throat felt tight knowing I lied to her… 

I couldn’t let myself be in her life again. 

Not when I know I ruined her social life… and humiliated her… and caused her disease. Not directly but I was there and I could’ve stopped it. I should’ve stopped it when she asked me to help her… 

“Who do you think you are talking to?” I heard and saw e/n… with Jay by her side. “She came up to me… I was just being nice” I said and she scoffed.

“I don't know how you can wake up in the morning knowing you did that to her… it should’ve been you in the forest that night,” she said and I sighed… “Maybe… or maybe it should've been you,” I said and she scoffed and started yelling at me. It wasn't all my fault I knew that…

Sure I helped… but I didn’t plan it and besides I didn’t know half the things she did to her. 

“See Jay… I saved you from her. She ruins the lives of people around her” she said and I sighed… “Whatever e/n,” I said and left her. I was at least bettering myself… she will never have the chance to. 

I was at least studying and doing my best to be someone worthy of her forgiveness. Not someone who will never change and ruin and belittle others for the rest of her life. 

Funny when I was the one by her side protecting her from mean bullies and pranks when in the end she was no better than those who bullied her. And endless cycle…

That will unfortunately never change. 

jay’s perspective

I tried and learned everything that had happened. 

Sunghoon’s owner was always known as sweet and kind. However, she associated herself with two queen bees. Both may be as bad as each other but as they grew up she improved. Though others will always blame her for it… I didn’t think someone in their position could change but she really was.

I heard things like she volunteers a lot and she’s on the honor roll. Before all she would do was party and… just live the life e/n did but now she truly was trying to make a name for herself on her own.

So much that she would often not take care of herself which is why Mark and Haechan thought a hybrid would be a good idea in the first place. 

“I don’t even know why she would want a hybrid? Her parents never allowed it calling them icky and failed experiments anyway” e/n said to her group of friends.

While many people thought hybrids were luxurious there were some who thought otherwise and saw them lower as humans that shouldn’t even be in the same room as them…

“I guess now that her parents disowned her she’s wanted one I guess but she never mentioned it” she continued with a slight daydreaming expression. “Didn't you guys used to be like bffs” the girls laughed but she didn’t

“Yeah until she did something unforgivable! Only monsters do things like that!” she laughed but it almost seemed forced. 

“Anyways see ya!” she said as I followed her but she stopped abruptly to look at me with a glare. “What was it like? Being under her care?” she asked with crossed arms and I shrugged. “Was she as clumsy and stupid as ever?” she smirked and I said nothing until she sighed.

“She rarely takes care of herself right? It's all I ever hear” she muttered and I nodded. “I see… well Jay! You’re not what I want… in fact, I don’t think I even want a hybrid too much work and I never get my privacy after all” she said as she started walking… 

What was she on about? We walked until I realized we were at the cafeteria somewhere she’d never eaten…

“Oh? Didn’t think she’d be here… ugh and asleep? How low Cinderella has fallen~” she taunted as I saw Mark, Haechan, and Chenle…

“Well, Jay is all hers… I’ll get some of his stuff I don’t need any more hybrids things after all ~,” she said as she took off my collar and threw it on the table and it seemed to wake y/n up. 

“Huh?!” she let out and e/n laughed. “Careful your mask is falling,” Chenle said and she scoffed. “Whatever… buh-bye!” she said and left… but she looked back and tried to look at her reaction… maybe she did care a little after all.

“What is happening?” she asked as the boys laughed. “Looks like you’re stuck with each other again,” Haechan said as he gave my collar to her. 

Would she even accept me again after how mean I was? “But… Jay said he didn’t–” “I do! I want to be your hybrid!” I said this time being truthful… when would I have the second chance like I do now to… finally be with someone who could appreciate me?

“Y-you do?” she asked flustered and I smiled… “Well, the two of you have lots to talk about and I need to pick someone up from the airport” Chenle said as he waved goodbye. “We should go too!” Mark said and Haechan looked confused… “Huh? We don’t have anything–” “Yes we do!” he said leaving us alone. 

“Do you really mean it?” 

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[vadersassistant]

Hiiii

wo dering if you could do an enemies to lover anakin imagine. kind of like friends to enemies to lovers or something like that and it ends in them making out o whatever you are comfortable with.

Anyways thank youuu

Denial One Shot (Darth Vader x Reader)

Summary: After venturing into a Sith Temple to try and find an edge on the current war, (Y/N) meets her enemy, Lord Vader, the man who killed her best friend and secret lover. He has been hunting both her and her alias down for months, following her across the galaxy, but little does she know, he has no plans to kill her. Takes place in the temple seen in the Star Wars Rebels season two finale. Reader was previously a Jedi and is in hiding due to order 66.

Warnings: Make out session

A/N: (Y/N) does not know Vader is Anakin, and Vader does not know (Y/N) is the Fugitive he has been searching for. This is once again a mix of suited Vader and nightfall Vader. In which, Vader wears the suit and mask, but he can take it off and looks like the Anakin we know and love.

The temple was eerie, an odd feeling passing by with each step you took. It was the opposite of the one I grew up in, representing everything I was told to dislike, and yet I was here anyways. I had made up my mind to fight instead of continuing to run from the problem. I wasn’t a rebel, but I wasn’t an imperial either. I was the middle ground, a former Jedi with a new identity, a mask to shield my face so that I could live freely, but the saber still gave it away. I was good, too good to be a civilian having fun with an old relic, even though some still used them publicly. Some, as in him.

The Jedi fell and Lord Vader rose out of thin air. There was no preface, no foreshadowing, he just came, and everyone bowed their heads.

To outsiders he was a military leader trained in combat, who happened to use an imaginary power. To force users, like Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and I, he was a Sith. We all knew it the second he began hunting us down. He wanted the Jedi dead and made it clear when he began searching for my alias as well. Everyone knew who she was, I was put on every single imperial security watch available, but I evaded it all I could. I forged a new saber, so that they couldn’t track me that way, and told people about how the female jedi on the Holonets from the clone wars died. The only people who truly knew were Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, since they too had done something similar. He was Ben, she was Ashla, and I gained the name Fugitive, a mask being the only way to keep track of my identity.

I couldn’t count how many storm-troopers I had killed by now, just that I did. I was forced to, to keep myself alive, because he wanted me turned in. I was always told to run, to flee from Vader because of what he’s done, but all I wanted was for the man to wind up dead. A lust for revenge had developed ever since I learned what he did to my best friend, Anakin Skywalker.

I don’t even know how he could have killed a warrior like him, but he did and now he’s gone. Slaughtered like any other while trying to save people in the temple, something someone with his character would have done naturally. The worst part is that everyone he was trying to save is dead too, and that he could have escaped with us, had he not done what he did. He had a wife, Senator Amidala, a good friend of mine, who also died that night, although I wasn’t sure if they ended on good terms.

The two had been arguing for a while, he believed she was cheating on him with Obi Wan, although she continued to deny it along with everyone else. I was the only one who he talked to about his problems willingly, even Kenobi would have to go through reading his mind to talk about personal issues. It was only when Anakin died that the truth came out, that being that Anakin was right, and she was seeing Kenobi.

I hadn’t recognized him after that point. I knew he was afraid he would be kicked out of the Jedi order if we found out he was dating another woman. Even further, the fact he knowingly was allowing the affair to happen, but it occurred anyways, and he lost everything with it. That was consequence enough, he didn’t need me to yell at him any further for going that far.

Still, I was angry, because I cared about Anakin.

And also loved him.

I denied it for years, the helpless prodding’s from Ahsoka when the two of us would spend hours upon hours with each other. We carried out the entire war effort, working extremely close together on missions. It was no surprise that I liked him, he had even mentioned subtly what things would be like if he hadn’t met her. It sounded like he regretted it, but I had no clue, due to us being force users.

I now stood in front of the man who took him away, the one that gutted him in the chest like a fish with no care whatsoever. The man that had been hunting me down under both my names since the night of the fall, the one that was known for murdering everyone in his path. I don’t know how he found me, I had a feeling we were being followed, but I didn’t care. We needed the Holocron inside of the temple, and Ahsoka now had it in hand. I could sense their distraught, both behind me looking at the Sith in front of us. They didn’t want to fight him; they were afraid to fight him. I felt differently, looking at his mask through the visors of my own.

“It was foretold that you would be here, our long-awaited meeting has come at last."

“This meeting is over,” Ahsoka said.

“Are you so sure?” the Sith questioned through the modulated voice his mask provided him, as I stepped forward.

“What are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked me, his breath becoming short.

“Leave."

“No," he shook his head. "Don’t do this."

“Leave. Now.”

I looked up at the temple’s ceiling as the walls started to drop down. It was collapsing on itself, since the Holocron had been taken from the Obelisk. There wasn’t much to do, but I knew I didn’t want to pull them into this. I turned around and outstretched a hand.  

Ahsoka screamed as I force pushed both her and Obi-Wan back while the temple’s walls crashed down. I saw her figure fly back just before the drop and felt her gently land. There was a ship, they could leave, I would worry about myself after I killed him.

“We’re finishing this here,” I said. "I know you've been hunting me for the past months."

“You are courageous, unlike your friends,” the Sith mused. “Hateful.”

“You killed my best friend," I pointed out. "I want you to experience that same pain."

“Revenge is not the Jedi way,” he reminded. "Your confidence dilutes your ability to make rational decisions."

“I am no Jedi.”

“Then who are you? Your saber is unlike any I have ever seen, an identity successfully hidden behind a helm.”

“That’s none of your business, why have you been hunting me?” I asked. I felt the pressure of the Dark Side creeping against my mind's barriers, he was trying to invade.

“You would make a wonderful apprentice in the dark side,” Vader said. "You have already abandoned your training as a Jedi."

“I don’t side with murderers.”

“And yet you are one. I have seen your way of fighting Fugitive; you have killed countless of our troops and inquisitors.”

“Your Inquisitorious is an embarrassment, and I will never join you, not after what you did,” I called my saber to my hand, igniting it.

“Then you will die.”

There was this feeling of fear that attempted to wash over me, like he was attempting to throw me off, but I wasn't thinking about it anymore.

I ran full speed at him, force pushing myself up off the ground and into the air to try and put myself on the offensive. My blade met his right over his helmet, as he angled me back and I landed behind him. My automatic response was to try and swing for his legs, a move he evaded but had been surprised by. I knew I needed to be careful with how I played things. He would try and tire me out by just playing the defensive, but I also didn’t get that tired frow much stamina I built up during the war. Vader was also bigger, and stronger, meaning I’d need to use his weight to my advantage. I was quick, less stable, and grounded, and more agile in my movements.

We continued to take shots at each other, as he seemingly began to test me. It was a constant switch from the right to the left, bashing at each other from different angles and walking along with it. It was something Anakin and I always did, and it almost felt familiar. For whatever reason, I could feel myself getting into the rhythm Skywalker and I got into when we would train every day. After a certain point I would always switch my grip and force him to back off, and I did it purely out of muscle memory, shoving the Sith back.

“Your anger focuses you,” he commented. “Join me and I can enhance that power.”

“You killed him, the man I loved, do you truly believe I would ever consider that?”

“He is gone for a reason,” Vader said.

“He was the chosen one!” I shouted, interlocking lightsabers in a pursuit for power over the other. "You know why he lost his life?! Because he was trying to save everyone else, instead of actually caring for himself for once."

“(Y/N)."

I stumbled back immediately, hearing that name leave his mouth,

"What?"

My eyes widened beneath the visors, letting my guard down for just a moment.

It was all he needed.

I felt his immense force break through my walls and invade my mind, clawing through my memories and thoughts like a file. Not only that, but he immediately took me to the ground. It was quick, as he now straddled me, muscular thighs resting over my lower waist. Both my arms were pinned to either side with by the force, my saber in his hand.

I grunted, struggling under him and thrusting against his cod piece hoping it would make him budge but it barely made a difference. I couldn’t do a thing, as the Sith reached for my mask and pressed down on the sides. I felt it depressurize, as his gloved digits lifted it off my head, and I looked into his mask with my own eyes.

"How do you know my name?" I asked angrily as I fought underneath him to free myself.

There was no way of telling what he truly felt in that moment, holding the helm silently, breathing being the only indication he was still alive. I continued to try and do everything to get out of his grasp, but the Sith only sat there and took me in, his body heat lingering over my own. I felt like a mess, wondering where Ahsoka and Obi-Wan might be right now, realizing why Anakin lost his life to this man. I didn’t know how he knew my name, my real name, the one that no one had called me in months. I was fully pinned down, not giving up until I saw him reach for his own helmet.

"What are you do—"

My throat ran dry, amber eyes piercing through my body like a blade.

"Anakin."

It was him, with brown hair that held golden streaks just above his armor.

"(Y/N)."

Hearing his voice sent a shiver down my entire back, as I shuddered underneath him.

“I thought you died—they said Vader killed you—" there were tears welling up in my eyes, looking up at him.

“I am alive."

“Why did you turn?"

“The Jedi council was using us, Obi-Wan lied to me about Padme (Y/N), they were having an affair. But you know that already.”

“Obi Wan told us,” I trailed off.

“I know.”

“Do you plan to kill me?”

“No, that was never my intent," he emphasized lowly.

“So, what will you do?” I questioned.

“After separating myself from the order, I reflected much upon it,” Anakin started. "And came to terms with several of my mistakes."

“What mistakes?”

Still straddling me Anakin leaned down, placing his hands by either sides of my head and lowering himself to my ear.

“I was blindly dating filthy senator, when I had the love of my life right next to me the entire time."

"What do you mean?" I emphasized each word, my abdomen tensing as he got so close to me.

"There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think of my future and imagine you by my side. I told myself it was our strong bond causing me to think of you constantly, due to the amount of time we spent together, but now, I feel completely different."

"Anakin," my heart was racing, as he continued to whisper into my ear.

"Maker, I missed you so much."

He was just trying to be friendly, that's all this was.

"Now, I know you are not that naive," he let out a deep chuckle, reading my mind.

"Is this your way of coercing me into joining the dark side?" I said softly, trying to play it off.

"There is no need to coerce you (Y/N), your heart is already doing all the work," Anakin told me. "All there is to do is to make up for lost time."

"No.."

"Continuing to deny it is only stalling the inevitable," he spoke in a playful way. "Your hatred towards the one you believed to be my killer only proves it more."

"I—" I cut myself off, as Anakin moved his head, now right over mine.

"What is it?" he asked me, his golden eyes flicking from my lips up to my eyes in quick fashion.

I gave in, nodding to his silent question and feeling the force lift off my hands.

Anakin pressed his lips to mine as I lifted my head up and met him midway. His robotic hand came down to my waist, the other combing through my hair as he helped hold my head steady. It was delicate and prepared, goosebumps crawling over my skin as his weight pressed me onto the cold temple floors. He was an expert in the way he worked around my mouth, the first time I had ever kissed anyone to begin with.

To think such a sacred place would be ruined due to our own shenanigans.

A Jedi and a Sith, making out in a temple with no care for sentiment.

His lips were chapped yet soft, and the more breaths we took between kissing the more swollen they became. Anakin didn’t seem to care though, continuing to go down on my neck allowing me to breath. He wasn’t going too far, but it was enough for the occasion, leaving marks I that wouldn’t leave for days.

It was madness.

Everything around us screamed in pleasure, the force happily chiming along with the two sides agreeing on something, even if it wasn’t an argument. Anakin had changed, and I couldn’t decide if it was for better or for worse.

If only those two could see me now, making love to the man that we had been running from for months. The copious amounts of rage had turned to attraction in a blink of an eye, rejoicing in his presence as my hand pressed against his tunic and I felt his abdomen underneath the fabric. He was such light and yet the darkness itself, drowning me in it as we sunk into a pool of ecstasy.

The cold stone floors were soon heated, as the temple grew humid and we both simultaneously agreed to take our tops off. It was the definition of multitasking, as I took off his armor and tunic, leaving behind a black pair of pants, and his boots. With the force he slipped my top off, gaining access to my collar bone and gracing it with his mouth. There was a possessive feeling in the air, as he took in my body for the first time with his own eyes as I did to him.

"You are so beautiful, it is intoxicating."

I felt myself smiling, sitting up and wrapping my arms around his neck, the both of us kissing deeply. This was it, holding our breath as we enjoyed one another, but the force was warning the both of us.

The temple shook, I almost forgot it was collapsing.

"We need to escape before we become trapped inside," Anakin said. "My ship is outside."

"And you assume I'm coming?"

"I know you are."

I laughed, acknowledging his foresight. We put on our clothes hurriedly yet thoroughly, as someone trained to handle life or death would. In truth, that was what we stood for, as Jedi and Sith both came together as one, in ways that would be frowned upon.

Except we didn't care.

We weren't denying it any longer.

Back in business since the recent Ahsoka episode. Hope you all enjoyed!