#(he knows how much of a horror and disappointment he IS to himself)

[gwaynesprincess]

Good Boy

Content: NSFW, face riding, cunnilingus, praise kink, poor self-image, discussions of BDSM etiquette, safewords, handjob

Note: This exists in a modern, alternate universe where Aemond is very submissive. I intend to turn this premise into a collection of loosely related drabbles with little to no plot. Also, thank you to @peachysunrize for encouraging me and for making the GIF that I used! 💚

Aemond fucking loved when you sat on his face. There was something absolutely wonderful about you smothering him with your cunt and using him for your pleasure. He hooked his arms around your legs, pulling you closer, prioritizing eating your pussy over breathing. Above him, you moaned, rocking your hips as his nose ground against your clit deliciously. 

“You’re doing so well,” you gasped, clutching the headboard desperately as your third peak drew closer and closer. “Aemond, you’re so good.” 

He groaned happily, working his tongue inside of you as you praised him. He had always thought that he would never enjoy letting someone else be in control of him in such a vulnerable state, but you always seemed to know exactly what he needed. You were so gentle, so kind to him, that he was afraid that you would leave. How could someone like you want someone like him? He could never understand, but he could try to convince you to stay by committing to making you cum until you physically couldn’t anymore. 

You had made him promise to tell you if he couldn’t breathe, but he was tempted to ignore the lack of oxygen in favor of bringing you pleasure. He wanted you to tell him that he was good, and he wondered if you would do so if he told you that his head was spinning. What if you were upset with him? He could tell that you were getting close, and he didn’t want you to be disappointed in his weakness. However, he remembered the last time that he had tried to keep going. He had almost passed out, much to your horror. While he had been more than alright, he was completely confused why you had been so saddened by his willingness to suffer for your pleasure. You hadn’t told him that he was good, despite him making you cum four times, because you were so concerned for him. But that had been four times, and this would only be your third… 

He whined in panic; he didn’t know what to do, so he desperately tapped on your thigh and tried to pull your cunt closer at the same time. You pulled away from him immediately, searching his face for some kind of hint as to what was wrong. 

Fuck. He was suddenly afraid that he shouldn’t have tapped your leg. “‘M sorry,” he mumbled, trying to pull you back down. “I’ll try again, ‘m sorry. I’ll do better, I’ll fix it.” Gods, what was wrong with him? He should’ve just let you ride his face until he passed out, but he had to go and fuck it up by being pathetic and weak. 

To his horror, you crawled off of him. He froze, fear coursing through him. Were you going to leave him? He needed you to stay and care for him. What did he need to do to make it up to you? Whatever it was, he could take it. 

And then, you did the most surprising thing: you pulled him into your arms and began to caress his hair. “There’s nothing to fix,” you said lightly, gently kissing his temple as you carefully wiped your own slick off of his chin. “You did the right thing by asking me to stop. I’m very proud of you, Aemond.” 

A warm feeling erupted in his chest at your words, one that he didn’t quite know what to call. He was very confused why you were telling him that he did a good job, but he liked the way that you were holding him. He hesitantly nuzzled you, a lovely feeling encasing him when you pulled him closer. He let himself enjoy the sensation for a moment longer, then swallowed hard. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled, loathing himself. “I’m sorry, I don’t get it. I must be stupid.” 

“Oh, Aemond,” you whispered. “No, you’re not. What don’t you understand?” 

He whimpered, squirming until he was able to hide his face in the crook of your neck. “Why are you proud of me?” he asked, his voice small. “I made you stop; I didn’t make you cum again.” 

You gently stroked his hair. “You didn’t need to. This isn’t good for me if you’re hurting. Stopping isn’t bad. You were very good because you let me know that you couldn’t breathe.” 

Aemond felt warmth pool in his stomach when you told him that he was good. He was quite certain that he was being bad now, since you were trying to help him understand and his cock was hardening. “I just want to make you happy,” he said softly. 

“Oh, my sweet boy,” you murmured, “I will always be happy when I am with you.” Aemond felt a smile threaten to make itself known on his lips at your words. He blushed slightly when you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and he gasped when you slowly wrapped your hand around his swollen cock. “We will need to talk more about this later,” you told him, “but I wish to pleasure you now. Would you like that?” He nodded vigorously; you shook your head. “Use your words.” 

“Yes,” he blurted. “Please, yes. Stroke my cock, please, I beg you.” 

“Good boy,” you said, slotting your mouth against his own as he whimpered in delight at the praise. 

You began to slowly jerk him off, your grip wonderfully tight. Aemond whined as your thumb circled the swollen head, a shiver running through his body as he hesitantly bucked upwards into your hold. It felt so good, having your warm hand work him towards his end. 

“I wish you could see yourself,” you whispered against his lips; Aemond whimpered. “You look so pretty, fucking my fist.” 

“Please,” he gasped. “Faster, please, I need it faster.” 

You complied with his request, moving your hand rapidly along his length. Your thumb gently traced his sensitive tip, gathering his precum and using it to make his cock slick. He couldn’t believe how good it felt as he rolled his hips faster, his cheeks burning at the wet sound that was proof of the mess he was making in your soft palm. 

“I hope you like your treat,” you said, gently stroking his hair with your fingertips as your other hand worked quickly on his aching prick. “You were so good for me, fucking me with your tongue and making me cum. And you’re so pretty when you let me jerk you off. Are you close?” 

He was embarrassingly close. Aemond could feel the coil in his stomach tightening at your praise. He nodded desperately, then buried his face in your neck. “Yes, I’m close. Please, I’m so close.” He needed you to tell him that he could cum. He was going to go mad if you didn’t give him permission. 

You kissed his forehead. “Good boy. Cum for me, Aemond.” 

He would have been ashamed of the whorish moan he let out, but he was too focused on how good it felt to worry about how he sounded. Spots danced in front of his eye as his entire body tensed, his cock spasming in your palm as he came all over his stomach. You continued to stroke him throughout it all, helping him to ride through his high as he shuddered and whimpered. He needed to feel like this every day for the rest of his life, he was sure of it. You were so good to him, being kind as you used him for your pleasure and rewarding him when he pleased you. 

When his breathing finally slowed several moments later, he realized that he was trembling and clinging to you. Sheepishly, he let go, attempting to move away from you. To his surprise, you gently took his hand in your own, lacing your fingers through his and squeezing gently. “You were such a good boy, Aemond,” you said, smiling as he blushed. He gasped as you brought your cum-stained hand to your lips, sucking his release from your fingers before kissing him. He whimpered as you slid your tongue into his mouth; he could taste his own cum and it was fucking hot. 

When you pulled back a few moments later, Aemond smiled at you, reveling in the warmth that bloomed in his chest. He hesitated for only a brief second before cautiously curling up in your arms, sighing in sleepy contentment as you held on to him. “Thank you,” he mumbled. 

You pulled him closer, keeping him safe as he relaxed in your embrace. “Of course. Rest now, my darling good boy. You deserve it.” 

For the first time in a long while, Aemond was calm as he closed his eye and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

[triglycercule]

yada yada happy halloween to these FREAKS (and you guys :3 and myself i gusss :3) doodle from art class that i GUESS could be considered halloween...... idk ok idk ok something was up with me when i drew this

[kelpiemomma]

"never meet your heroes"

Kenzington had a few ideas about what he'd be like when he got older. Maybe he'd work with a Nurse Joy, or he'd be a bouncer somewhere. Maybe even a pokemon ranger! Nothing too grand- he knew he wasn't good at schooling, had dropped out to take care of his family, and that maybe his options were limited but...

He never imagined he'd grow up to be a callous, apathetic, murderous monster.

[colormepurplex2]

Shatter With Me | Waving The White Flag

↳ Model!Jungkook x Surrogate!f.Reader ⤜ Surrogacy, Best Friend's Husband ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 18,286 ⚠️ Crass language, talk of infertility, drinking, very mild bullying and references to cruel behavior/words, talk of surrogacy, at-home medical procedure, genital touching (non-sexual), planned pregnancy, talk of pregnancy termination/abortion, BIG hurt feelings, open palm slapping, accusations of infidelity

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to story masterlist

Jungkook

Jungkook never thought he’d be haunted by such a small, seemingly insignificant thing. A tiny pastel pink line. Singular. Just like all the ones before it. He’s lost count of exactly how many, but it’s been years; every month, the same outcome. A singular pink line telling him he’s failed. He knows that’s a bit harsh, but it’s how he’s starting to feel—like a complete and utter failure.

“We’ll try again next month,” Jiyoon offers, dropping the offending piece of plastic in the bathroom trash before giving Jungkook a tight smile.

“Have you given any more thought to trying IVF again?” Jungkook asks hesitantly, knowing that’s a sore subject. But, dammit, he’s not in the proper headspace right now to think better of it.

Jiyoon glares at him, her pouty pink lips drawing taut. “I told you not to ask me that ever again. Now, get out. I’d like to take a shower.” When Jungkook doesn’t immediately move from his perch on the bathroom counter, she tags on a frustrated, “Please.”

Jungkook hops down, his socked feet swishing over the tiled floor as he retreats into the master bedroom. The door forcefully shuts right on his heels, echoing the hollow ache in the center of his chest. He promised himself that if it didn’t happen this time, he’d just try harder next time.

Yet, there is only so much he can do. Pushing any harder might widen the rift slowly forming between him and his wife. Already, Jiyoon spends more time at work than with him. Her glares of irritation any time he seeks intimacy outside of their strict ovulation schedule are like holes being punched into his resolve.

After nearly two years of trying, he sought medical answers a year ago. Jiyoon was quite cross with him when she found out he went to the doctor, but he needed to know if it was his fault they were having trouble conceiving. The numbers were standard, slightly higher than average even. The utter devastation on Jiyoon’s face, he’ll never be able to forget that day. Because if he isn’t the problem…then that means she is.

It’s his fault. He wasn’t even thinking about that potential. Jiyoon hasn’t been the same since. That’s when the schedule came into play. That’s when she started to pour far more energy into waiting for the perfect moment instead of just enjoying their time together.

Jungkook can see the disappointment, the guilt that eats away at her each time that single pink line reveals itself. He wishes more than anything there was a way to change it, something more he could do. Yet, she refuses to consider the option of IVF, not after the horror story she heard from her friend Dani. She refuses to even talk about it.

There has to be another way; he’s just not sure what it might be. Jungkook is at a loss, and it feels like the weight of the world is sitting heavy right between his shoulders. The shower kicks on in the bathroom, and Jungkook decides to busy himself by making Jiyoon a cup of tea for when she gets out. He knows she’ll want to spend some time relaxing before bed, and tea always helps.

💔💔💔

Not a day goes by that you don’t think about your best friend, Jiyoon, and the unfortunate circumstances that have befallen her and her husband. It’s not a secret amongst your peers that they’ve been trying to start a family with no luck for several years. It breaks your heart every time she gives you a shake of her head when you look at her with hopeful eyes.

Today isn’t any different. You’re sitting at your desk, absently clicking through the latest portfolio files you got from Namjoon, when Jiyoon walks by your desk, heading toward hers. She’s half an hour late this morning, something that’s pretty routine every few weeks. It’s like clockwork. You’re aware of the ovulation schedule that she and Jungkook keep and know that she allows herself extra time the morning after taking a test to steel herself against the disappointment that will come from the pitying stares in the office.

You catch her eye as she settles into her desk chair, and she gives you that subtle shake of her head. There is tension in her shoulders, and her bottom lip looks like she’s been chewing on it in irritation, but she turns around and gives you her back before you can think to question her about it.

“Morning, Jiyoon,” Namjoon says as he steps out of his office. Namjoon is also well aware of the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Jiyoon and Jungkook. It’s why he doesn’t hassle her about being late, something you’re endlessly grateful for.

Jiyoon is your only friend, and you are very protective of her. Well, that’s not entirely true. The protective part is, but she’s not technically your only friend. She’s just the longest friend you’ve had and the one you hold closest to your heart—your best friend. Though, even still, everyone else are really just people you know through Jiyoon or from work. Maybe that’s sad, but you don’t mind it.

“Jiyoon!” Dani squeals from the other side of the office. The bubbly, energetic woman flits across the room, looking every inch like a fairy with her blond pixie cut, petite stature, and buttoned nose.

“Oh gosh, hey. Come here!” Jiyoon swings her chair toward Dani as she beckons her forward, letting you catch a glimpse of her profile. There is a smile on her face, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s strained or not. Jiyoon has always been beautiful, with not a single wrinkle or blemish in sight. Looking at her body language, it’s even harder to tell.

Giggles punctuate their whispered words as Dani crouches beside Jiyoon’s chair, their heads pressed close together. You watch as Dani slips something into Jiyoon’s hand before she stands and waggles her brows down at your friend.

“Have fun,” Dani sing-songs as she prances away from Jiyoon’s desk. Her gunmetal eyes meet yours, and her face sours before she disappears beyond your cubicle.

“What’s that?” you ask a beat after she’s gone and before you can curb your curiosity, tinged with mild jealousy. Dani has made it clear before that she doesn’t like you very much, only tolerating you for Jiyoon’s sake. So, it’s no surprise that you don’t find yourself included when it comes to anything involving Dani—it’s something you’ve chalked up to her own jealousy, perhaps at the fact you’ve been Jiyoon’s friend for so long.

Jiyoon flicks her eyes in your direction before stuffing whatever Dani gave her into her purse. “Just some antacids,” she says, giving you a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

All suspicions disappear as you take in the controlled curve of her lips. She looks miserable. “Oh,” is all you can manage before Namjoon calls everyone’s attention to the front of the room.

“Good morning, everyone. Let’s start this week off on the right foot. We have reports to file and new contracts to negotiate…”

You and Jiyoon have always aspired to work for a marketing and media agency together. So, when the opportunity presented itself, you both were elated to land jobs with Kim Exclusives, one of the most popular management companies for up-and-coming artists, models, and influencers.

That was seven years ago, and your time here has only solidified your friendship with Jiyoon. She met her husband, Jungkook, through the agency. He was one of the first models signed to Kim Exclusives, and you and Jiyoon both handled his portfolio and schedule for a year before she had to give you sole leadership over it once they became intimately involved—the whole conflict of interests thing.

“Are we still meeting tonight?” you ask Jiyoon as the day draws to a close. She’s still diligently working away at her computer, and you stand outside her cubicle with your bag on your shoulder.

“Hmm? Oh. Umm, yeah, I guess. I might be a bit late, though.”

You peek over her shoulder. “Is that the new Song profile?”

“Yep,” she pops the end of the word, keying you into thinking she's not in the mood to chat right now.

“Okay, well, I’ll see you guys later then.”

Jiyoon makes a noncommittal sound, already focused back on her work. You miss the days when she would give you more than a few passing words. Even on her good days, it seems like she’s growing further and further away from you. It’s hard not to feel guilty over the bitter and lonely feelings you get when you think about it. It’s not Jiyoon’s fault that you don’t have more close friends to turn to. But sometimes you wish you meant as much to her as she does to you.

As soon as that thought crosses your mind, you mentally kick yourself. It’s not fair for you to think that. You know Jiyoon cares for you; she’s just had a rough few years, and you shouldn’t be making it about yourself.

Feeling truly like a shit friend, you continue to chastise yourself over the next two hours as you commute home and get ready for tonight. Five minutes away from the pub, you consider calling Jiyoon and canceling. But, just as you pull out your phone to do that, someone calls your name from down the sidewalk.

You turn to see Taehyung and Jungkook waving at you from across the street. Well, there goes your intention to cancel.

“Hey! Have you heard from Jiyoon?” Jungkook asks as he and Taehyung jog across the street.

You press your lips into a thin line, confused. “Did she not come home?”

“Ah, no. She said she was working late and that I should just go ahead and meet up with you and Taehyung. She’s, uh, well, she’s not answering my calls. We—this morning…sorry, just, have you talked to her?”

Doing your best to keep your eyes on his, you give him an honest answer, “She was still working when I left the office. I haven’t heard from her since.” Losing the battle against your will, your eyes sweep over your best friend’s husband. He’s just as gorgeous as he always has been. His hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him, licking at the collar of his denim jacket. As the lead on his contract, you know he recently landed a massive campaign with a new clothing company, their emblem stitched onto the breast of the coat. Jungkook looks every inch the model he is; his friend no less so.

“Hey! Happy Birthday!” Taehyung greets you as your eyes swing to him.

Warm embarrassment kisses your cheeks. You hate your birthday; you hate being the center of attention. “Thanks,” you murmur, giving him a tight smile.

“Oh, yeah, happy birthday,” Jungkook tacks on. He rubs the back of his neck, giving you an apologetic look. “Should we go ahead and go inside?”

“Yeah, sure.” As Taehyung leads the way inside, you type out a quick text to Jiyoon asking how long she’ll be.

Thirty minutes later, you’re sitting in a mildly withdrawn personal bubble of silence as Jungkook and Taehyung chat about work and sip on fingers of liquor. You’re normally not so silent with them, as they have been clients of yours for years but you’ve also grown to think of them as friends. It’s just you have a lot on your plate right now, Namjoon just added three new clients to your work portfolio, putting you at juggling almost a dozen. You don’t mind the added workload, it helps keep you busy, but it does mean you have to switch around your schedule a great deal and have less time to spend with Jungkook and Taehyung who are two of the longest portfolios you’ve managed. They have a joint ad campaign coming up for the whiskey they’re sampling right now and are trying to decide if they actually like it or not.

Over the years, you've learned that advertisements are just that—a cleverly crafted piece of media to highlight a product. The models in a hamburger ad could very well be vegan, but they’re paid to make you believe otherwise. So, even if they decide they don’t like the whiskey, money will say they do.

Taehyung is a bit newer to Kim Exclusives, a model by complete accident. He came into the office once with Jungkook, just friends hanging out with each other, and the moment Namjoon saw him, he had to have him. A few weeks later, Taehyung was added to the roster of elite models under Kim Exclusives, booking just as well as any veteran.

“It’s a little too smokey for me, I think,” Taehyung comments. “What do you think?” he asks, setting his glass on the table and startling you out of your thoughts.

“What?” You blink up at him, totally lost.

“Give it a taste.” He taps the rim of the glass. “Tell me what you think,” he encourages, pushing the glass closer to where your hands are clasped together on the table.

You don’t really want to try the whiskey, but the expectant looks on Taehyung and Jungkook’s faces make you pick up the glass and take a tentative sip. It burns across your tongue, coating your throat in a fiery, smokey blend of burnt spices. The flavor sits like ash in your mouth.

“It’s, uh…”

“Not great, right?” Jungkook gives you a lopsided grin, his shoulders stretching the seams of his jean jacket as he shrugs. “It’s okay to be honest about it.”

You slide the glass back across the tabletop toward Taehyung. “Yeah, it’s not great. It might be better on ice, but I’m not a big drinker, so I think it’s hard for me to judge it fairly.”

They both seem satisfied with this response and resume their conversation about the whiskey and the new campaign. You check your phone, wondering where Jiyoon could possibly be. There is no response to your text.

You’re picking at the frayed edge of the paper coaster that’s slowly growing waterlogged from the condensation dripping down your glass of ice water when Taehyung taps on the table in front of you, trying to capture your attention.

“Isn’t that right?” he asks.

“Sorry. Is what right?” You feel heat bloom in your cheeks at being caught not paying attention yet again.

“You’re healthy.”

That statement has confusion replacing your embarrassment. “Healthy?”

“Let me backtrack,” Taehyung says, leaning back in his seat and throwing an arm over the back of Jungkook’s chair.

“Taehyung, really, this isn’t the time—”

“Ahem,” Taehyung interrupts Jungkook’s protest. “Hypothetically speaking, if your best friend and her husband were to inquire of you about the possibility of surrogacy, what would you say?”

The dots aren’t connecting for you, and his blunt question makes you feel like you missed something important. “Surrogacy?” You don’t mean to sound like a broken record, repeating what Taehyung is saying, but you’re thoroughly having a tough time understanding.

“Listen, you don’t have to answer that,” Jungkook states, shaking his head at Taehyung and giving him a pleading look that says to stop while he’s ahead.

“Are you and Jiyoon looking into a surrogate?” you ask; everything suddenly clicks into place, and the question tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. 

Jungkook grips the back of his neck and grumbles something incoherent towards Taehyung before he blows out a heavy breath and his eyes slowly rise to meet yours. “Not exactly, no. We haven’t talked about it yet. It’s just something I read about today. But, honestly, you don’t have to answer the question. Taehyung is just being a dick—”

“I’d do it.”

Your response leaves Jungkook with his mouth open and jaw slack as he stares at you in bewilderment.

“See, I told you. She’s perfect. Young, healthy, and someone you know and can trust,” Taehyung tots off, waving a finger in the air.

“Wait…are you serious?” Jungkook asks, pointedly ignoring Taehyung.

You’ve never considered being a mom before, at least not in that sense. It was always an assumption that it wouldn’t be in the cards for you—the whole lack of a love life thing being the crux of it. You’ve barely had a handful of boyfriends, much less a long-term commitment that would lead to a family. But, when it comes to Jiyoon, you’d do just about anything for her. So, if she asked you to carry a baby for her, you know, without a doubt, you’d do it.

“Y-yeah. Yes,” you state with more confidence. “I’d do that.”

Before Jungkook can respond, Jiyoon bustles in through the bar's front door, her lilting laughter drawing everyone’s attention. She has her phone pressed to her ear, and she’s smiling at whatever the person she’s speaking to is saying.

“Okay, yeah. Tomorrow sounds great. See you then,” Jiyoon says before ending the call and pocketing her phone. “Oh, Taehyung is here.” It’s a bland statement, Jiyoon’s eyes flicking over Jungkook’s best friend before landing on her husband. “Did you order me a drink already?”

Jungkook clears his throat, trying to compose himself before speaking. “Babe, hey. Um, no, I wasn’t sure when you’d get here. You weren’t responding to any of my calls or texts.”

Jiyoon slides into the empty seat beside you, across from Jungkook, and gives you a quick smile before wrinkling her nose in his direction. “I’ll take a glass of red.”

“Oh-kay,” Jungkook says slowly, a look of confusion ghosting over his features. “Where have you been?”

“Hmm? Oh, just busy with work,” Jiyoon says. “Wine, please, Jungkook.” His only response is a tight press of his lips before he stands up and disappears in the direction of the bar. Jiyoon clicks her tongue and angles herself to look at you. “You’re not drinking?” she asks, eyeing the glass of water on the table in front of you.

“Um, no. You know I don’t—”

“I know, you’re boring,” Jiyoon sighs. The only thing taking the sting out of her words is the smile she gives you. You know Jiyoon isn’t exactly what people would call a nice person; in fact, she’s often coined as a ‘mean girl.’ But she’s never been intentionally mean to you, not really. She just provides constructive criticism and encouragement to be the best version of yourself that you can be.

“Way to be a bitch to her on her birthday, Jiyoon,” Taehyung mumbles into his whiskey glass before tossing it back and downing the rest.

Jiyoon winces and then plasters a smile on her face before saying, “Right, happy birthday.”

“Yeah, thanks.” You make your best attempt at nonchalance, but you’re not sure it lands properly as Taehyung shakes his head, and Jiyoon sighs again.

“I forgot, okay? It’s been so busy at work and with—uh,” she pauses for just a second, and any other time you might not have noticed, but you can’t help but pick up on the way she rushes to continue, “the new client that you know Namjoon has been breathing down my neck over. The Harper portfolio, you know the one? And apparently, the Song profile needs to be redone on top of that.”

Jiyoon has been different lately. You’re aware that she took over one of the new higher-end clients, some big hot-shot movie star or something like that, but it’s almost made her seem like she thinks she’s above everyone else. It makes things tense sometimes like everyone is on edge when she comes around. You try to ignore it, for the sake of tonight. “It’s okay, Jiyoon, really.”

“Anyway, how are things going? It’s been a few weeks since we last talked about something other than work.”

Yeah, because every time you turn around Jiyoon is spending time with Dani or has a client meeting. You shrug. “Okay, I guess.”

Taehyung pipes up in the silence that follows, “We were actually just talking about surroga—”

“Red wine for my wife, another whiskey for Tae, the good stuff this time, and a pina colada for the birthday girl. Virgin, I made sure. I know you don’t like to drink alcohol,” Jungkook interrupts Taehyung, passing out the cluster of drinks in his hands.

You stare up at Jungkook, lips slightly parted as you try to think of the proper response, completely taken off guard by his gesture. Finally, you lamely offer, “Oh, uh, you didn’t have to, but thanks.”

“Nonsense. It’s your birthday, you deserve a little treat, and I know you like pineapple.” Jungkook settles back into his seat, and you try to keep your eyes off your best friend's husband. But it’s hard with how his hair falls into his face, and the denim hugs his shoulders as he relaxes against the back of his chair.

“Ew,” Jiyoon gags dramatically, startling your attention in her direction. “Is that a jacket from the shoot today?” She gestures at Jungkook, the distaste apparent on her face. “I know they didn’t dress you in that. What were they thinking?”

Jungkook frowns, staring down at the oversized light-wash jean jacket. “You don’t like it?” he asks.

Jiyoon scoffs, “It looks ridiculous, you look ridiculous. What the hell did you do to your hair? A mullet, really? It’s a wonder you’re a model. You were okay with this?” The last part is directed at you, because, as the lead on his profile, you’re the one who signed off on the hair and makeup for the shoot.

“Hey now,” Taehyung states loud enough to quiet the table; he’s clearly not having any of Jiyoon’s antics tonight, long work day or not. “Keep your petty bullshit opinions for when you’re at home. Tonight isn’t about you or how handsome my best friend is in his jean jacket and new hairstyle.” You can tell he intentionally calls Jungkook his best friend instead of Jiyoon’s husband as an extra jab.

“I never said he wasn’t handsome,” she grumbles, rolling her eyes before looking at Jungkook and sighing. “Sorry, dear, I’m just under a lot of stress. You know I didn’t mean it.” Her eyes flick to yours. “I know it’s not your fault.” You just give her a subtle shake of your head, not sure how to respond.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, and tries to move the conversation along. “It’s okay. Let’s just focus on why we’re here tonight.” He swings his eyes toward you, his smile becoming genuine, and begins to loudly belt out Happy Birthday, much to your dismay. This draws the attention of everyone else in the bar and earns you a generous round of applause when the singing finally fades.

You try to enjoy the rest of your night, but every time Jungkook catches you staring at him, you can’t help but feel a small spike of guilt; guilt over the perhaps tiny, mostly insignificant, completely harmless crush you might, perhaps, maybe have on your best friend’s husband.

It’s hard not to be attracted to him; Jiyoon knows that—she flaunts that fact. She also knows her claws are deep in him, and he’s not going anywhere. Jungkook would pull down the moon for her and then ask if she wanted the sun, too. You swallow down the last of your pina colada, eyes once again locked on Jungkook as he throws his head back and laughs at something Taehyung said.

Jiyoon presses her arm against yours, leaning in close to you. In a soft voice meant only for you, she whispers, “He really is perfect, isn’t he?”

“Hm? Who?”

“Don’t play coy with me,” she giggles drunkenly. “I know you were staring at him. My husband.”

You shrug. “I wasn’t staring.”

Jiyoon sighs wistfully. “It’s okay to stare, I don’t mind. I know what he looks like, after all. He’s so beautiful when he’s happy. I wish I could give him what he wants, he’d be the perfect father…I’m so scared to lose him.” The last part is whispered, so soft it’s hard to hear.

Instantly, your guilt turns into something else: resolve. You can’t bear the defeat you hear in her voice. It’s not something you can even begin to fathom—what she and Jungkook are going through. It’s no wonder she has caustic words at times. You meant what you said earlier, what you told Jungkook you were willing to do. With that in mind, you make a mental note to start researching and do what you can to make sure at least someone gets a happy ending here.

💔💔💔

Jungkook

The night of your birthday kept playing over and over again in Jungkook’s head the days that followed. Now, just as evening is rolling around, one week later, he can’t stop thinking about what you said, your confirmation. On top of that, that night was probably the most fun Jungkook has had in a long time—as long as he excludes the prickly start after Jiyoon arrived. He’s used to her snide and biting remarks after a long work day. Brushing them to the side and sweeping them away is usually easy.

But for some reason—perhaps it was the high he was riding after your confession and confirmation—it bothered him that she was doing it in front of Taehyung—in front of you. As if somehow her criticisms might make you both believe them. Not that he cares about being good-looking to Taehyung, or you for that matter, not really. It’s just that his first thought was what if that made you change your mind? Not necessarily whether or not he’s attractive, but the exchange as a whole. What if Jiyoon’s blatant criticisms made you want to change your mind because it somehow planted doubt in your mind that they’re a happy and healthy environment for a child?

“Jungkook.” The frustrated snap of his name brings him out of his thoughts. His eyes focus on the bathroom mirror once more, on Jiyoon, who is standing behind him with her hands on her hips, accentuating the flattering cut of the navy-colored dress she’s wearing. “Are you even listening to me?”

Turning and leaning back against the counter, Jungkook gives her his full attention. “Uh, yeah, sorry. You were talking about having dinner with a client tonight, and you’re leaving now to meet with Dani so you can get some files.”

“Yes,” she says, her lips twitching in mild surprise, and Jungkook knows she was expecting him not to have been paying attention. “I don’t know how long the dinner will last, so don’t wait up for me. It’s likely I’ll be home late.” She turns to go back into the bedroom, and Jungkook isn’t sure what possesses him, but he surges forward and gently snags her wrist, turning her back toward him. “Uh?” she makes a sound of mild questioning irritation.

“I have something I need—er, want—to talk to you about. It should only take a moment.”

She shakes his hold off her wrist and gives him a placating smile. “Okay, well, talk while I finish getting ready at least.” Not waiting to see if he follows, she disappears into the bedroom and heads to the closet, rummaging through her jewelry.

“Okay, um. Okay,” Jungkook stumbles over his words, feeling like he’s under pressure for some reason. “So, the other night, it was brought up in conversation, and uh, she already agreed, and it’s just that, well, there’s this thing called intracervical insemination and…how do you feel about surrogacy?”

There is a heavy pause, dread threatening to make Jungkook backpedal and eat his words just to snatch them back out of the air. Jiyoon glances at him over her shoulder, but he can’t get a clear read on her eyes. “What? Oh, yeah, sure,” she says, turning back to her digging.

Jungkook can’t tell whether Jiyoon is the one paying attention to him now, so he probes further, just to be clear. “You mean that? You’re okay with going the surrogacy route? My sperm, her egg…your best friend carrying our baby?”

Jiyoon’s back is to Jungkook, but he watches how her shoulders slide up in a shrug. “Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m not sure, it’s just that with ICI—”

“Look, Jungkook,” Jiyoon says, turning to face him fully. Her fingers work at slipping a pair of silver hoops into her earlobes. “I trust you.” She says the words slowly, keeping her eyes intently locked on his. “I know you’ll do your best for us. Whatever you want, it’s what I want, too. You know that.”

“Well, um, do you have any questions? We should talk…discuss this, er, something. I know how you feel about IVF. I want to make sure this is an option you truly want, and you’re not just saying this to make me happy. You should take some more time to think about it.” The fact she’s so quick to agree makes Jungkook question whether or not he’s hearing what he thinks he’s hearing.

Jiyoon cups one of his cheeks, gently thumbing over his bottom lip. “I don’t need time to think, because I’ve already thought about it. I—well, I was going to bring it up to you soon, but I wanted to do a bit more research first.”

“Wait, what? Really? You were thinking about ICI, too?” Jungkook swallows hard, leaning into his wife's warm touch.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her soft smile making her eyes twinkle and his heart melt.

Jungkook can’t help letting his eyes drink in his wife. They might have been going through rough patches the last few years, but that hasn’t lessened how he feels about her. Jungkook has always found her strikingly beautiful, with long legs and shiny hair that he loves to run his fingers through. But at this moment, he feels like he might burst with the love he has for her.

“Yeah? Okay. Okay,” he tries to suppress the emotion in his words. “Okay, perfect. I love you. I love you so much!”

Jiyoon laughs, and it sounds magical, as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and plants a kiss on her lips. “Don’t smear my lipstick, please,” she mumbles, her voice light and playful.

“Go have a good dinner, secure the client, and don’t worry about anything else,” Jungkook bubbles happily, setting Jiyoon back on her feet. “I swear I’ll take care of it all. Everything will be perfect, absolutely perfect.”

An hour later, Jungkook walks up to your apartment door. He couldn’t stop himself earlier, so he immediately texted you and asked to see you as soon as Jiyoon left for Dani’s.

The door swings open before he can knock, revealing you standing there breathless and in a set of purple checkered pajamas. “Is everything okay?” you ask, worry lines creasing between your brows. “Your text sounded urgent.”

“Oh.” Jungkook feels terrible for making you concerned. He didn’t mean for it to come off like that. “No, I mean, yes, everything is okay. But, no, it’s not exactly urgent. Sorry for that. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

You lean against the doorframe, eyes wide on his. “What is it?”

“Er, uh, do you mind if I come in? This is more of a sit-down kind of conversation.”

The little ‘o’ your lips form is far cuter than Jungkook has a right to think it is. His mind instantly latches onto it, wondering if the baby would have your lips or his. “O-okay, sure, come on in.”

Jungkook has visited your apartment a handful of times over the years. It’s quaint and cozy, exactly what he’d imagine for you. There are books everywhere, shelves full of thick and thin volumes of literary prose. A few art pieces decorate the walls, along with dozens and dozens of black-and-white photos in simple frames. He stirs up the recollection that you enjoy photography in your spare time.

“Sorry, again, about my text. I didn’t mean to worry you, really.” Jungkook feels nervous, unsure where to stand or even sit, until you gesture toward the couch. A handful of well-loved decorative pillows are scattered across the burgundy suede. He settles at one end as you take the other, looking at him expectantly.

A beat or two passes, and Jungkook feels like he’s about to swallow his tongue until you open your mouth, clearly picking up on his distress. “Is it something with work? I can try to fix whatever it is first thing in the morning—”

“No, no,” Jungkook holds up a hand, shaking his head. “It’s not work. It’s um, it’s actually Jiyoon. Well, me and her, specifically.”

You pull your knees up and tuck your feet underneath yourself. “Oh, okay.”

“Were you serious about what you said the other night?” Jungkook blurts, figuring it’s best, like ripping off a bandaid.

Your bottom lip has an indent left from where you tucked it between your teeth before nodding. “Yes.” Jungkook didn’t necessarily expect you to say no, but the rush of relief he feels at hearing that encourages him to press on.

“I talked with Jiyoon about it today and she—we—would be honored if you’d do that for us. If you’d give us a chance at having a family. It’s…it’s something we both, deeply, deeply desire. If you’re truly serious about it, we’ll take care of everything, all medical expenses, bills, anything…just name it, it’s yours.”

“That’s—okay, okay, yes. Yes, I’ll do it. Just tell me what I need to do.”

Jungkook whoops loudly, jumping up from the couch, and drags you into his arms for a bear hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I can’t even begin to explain what this means to me, to us. This is…I can’t…oh my, I need to—wait, okay. Sorry, let me calm down for a second.” The word vomit is real, and Jungkook uses his hold on you to ground himself, moving his hands to your shoulders and locking his eyes on yours. “I think I might pass out,” he whispers a second before bursting into a giddy laugh.

“Whoa, um, sit down. Please don’t pass out on me. You’re too big for me to catch!” Your frantic words make him laugh even harder.

He shakes his head, on cloud nine. “I’m kidding, kind of. I just feel…I feel so light, like—well, it doesn’t matter about that. What matters is you. Please don’t feel obligated to do this. That’s the last thing I want. If you are serious, I can send all the information you need to you in the morning. But only if you’re certain.”

“Jungkook,” the way you say his name makes his heart thump heavy in his chest as if his fate hinges on whatever comes next. “I am serious. I promise. I want to do this for you, for Jiyoon…I want to give you both the happiness you deserve.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook says fervently, never meaning something more in his life.

This happiness carries Jungkook through the rest of the evening, turning into a brilliant flame of intimacy when Jiyoon crawls into bed beside him hours later. For the first time in a long time, there is no schedule, no waiting for the perfect moment; it’s just the love shared between two souls celebrating the joys of life.

💔💔💔

The following day, several emails from Jungkook are waiting for you; Jiyoon CC’d on them all, as well as a few texts to check in. The idea that you could possibly be pregnant in the coming weeks or months—not just pregnant, but pregnant with Jungkook’s baby for your best friend—still feels a bit surreal.

You texted Jiyoon last night, expressing to her how much she means to you and that you’re honored she wants it to be you that helps her fulfill her dreams of having a family. She hasn’t replied yet, but that doesn’t bother you; she’s probably busy helping Jungkook with planning.

There is an entire email dedicated to medical referrals. Apparently, Jungkook spent hours pouring over all the local doctors and medical facilities vetting to find the best ones. Each has notes and suggestions under them, along with all the information you might need to call and make an appointment.

That’s really all you need to do: make an appointment for a check-up. Taehyung made an assumption of your health last night, but it doesn’t hurt to be sure. The last thing you’d want to do is be in poor health and unable to keep your word.

Your fingers tremble as you dial the numbers, and you have to take a few shallow breaths to get your voice to work properly. Minutes later, you have an appointment scheduled for later this week. Now, all you have to do is figure out how you’re going to wait the next few days and not burst from anticipation. It’s a slow few days.

Apparently, by Googling every possible thing you can think of about being a surrogate and pregnancies. Along with the emails full of information, by the time you’re walking into the clinic for your appointment at the end of the week, you feel confident asking questions.

“Being a surrogate is a pretty serious situation. Have you considered all the possibilities and what might be required of you?” The doctor has a pleasant demeanor; her eyes are intense yet kind. It might be the steel-colored strands scattered through her hair or the wrinkles that deepen around her eyes when she smiles, but you feel comfortable opening up to her.

You roll your lips between your teeth before saying, “Honestly? Probably not as much as most surrogates. I’m sure there are things I’m not aware of yet. It was only presented to me a few days ago. But I have done some extensive reading and soul-searching, and I know it’s what I want.”

Dr. Lee contemplates you for a moment before nodding. “Yes, I believe you do. Let’s get started, shall we?”

It’s not uncomfortable going through all the tests and procedures. There isn’t much the doctor does that you haven’t done before. Samples are taken, and a routine exam is performed. As you leave, the nurse tells you you should have results within the next two weeks.

Thankfully, the results come at the beginning of the following week. You’re sitting at your desk at work, reviewing the final details for the whiskey campaign Jungkook and Taehyung are shooting in a few days, when you get the notification that your results are viewable on your patient portal. A moment before you click into the email, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

“Hello?” you whisper, cupping your hand around the base of your phone and mouth. A nurse rattles off your information, ensuring she speaks to the right person. “Yes, speaking.”

“I just wanted to let you know that all of your results are in, and Dr. Lee has signed off on your request to move forward with the surrogacy…” Everything else the nurse says is a bit hazy. She covers the numbers for your tests and where to find resources for more information on at-home intracervical insemination. “Do you have any questions for me? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Oh, umm, yes, sorry. No questions, thank you so much.”

The line disconnects, and you sit there for a few more moments, the phone still held to your ear, as you try to process the giddy feeling bubbling up inside you. You need to tell Jiyoon, Jungkook, someone…anyone. Pushing up from your desk, you scan the area around you for your best friend and come up empty.

“Hello?” Jungkook answers on the second ring.

“Jungkook.”

“Oh, hey. Everything okay?”

“What? Oh. Yes. Yes, everything is okay. Everything is perfect. Do you know where Jiyoon might be? I haven’t seen her since she came into the office this morning.” You rack your brain, trying to remember if you saw her leave or go into another room.

“Yeah, she called a little while ago and said that Namjoon was having her meet one of the new clients for lunch to sign some more papers.”

“Right, that’s right,” you say, recalling that Namjoon asked her to come into his office shortly after she arrived this morning.

“Why? What’s up?”

You drag a slow, shallow breath into your lungs in an effort to slow your rapidly beating heart. “I heard back from the doctor.”

Jungkook urges you to continue, “Yeah? What did they say? Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

“I’m…I’m great. I’m perfect. I’m—I, I can do it. We can do it. There’s a chart,” you explain, wedging your phone between your ear and your shoulder to free your hands so you can pull up the email you got and forward it to him. “It has an estimated schedule and recommendations on timing for the best results. I just sent everything over to you.”

“I got it. Wow. Okay. Wow. Oh my…wow! I need to call Jiyoon. Fuck. Oh my god. Okay, thank you! I’ll call you back later, okay?” The line disconnects after Jungkook says a hurried goodbye, the elation in his voice evident.

According to the doctor's ovulation chart, the best time for you to begin trying is next week. Conception is most likely during a twenty-four-hour period. On your way home, you stop and pick up an ovulation testing kit so you can remain on track.

You arrive home filled with nervous energy, unable to stop smiling as you unpack the things you picked up at the pharmacy. A large box of pregnancy tests goes beside the ovulation kit in your medicine cabinet, along with a pack of medical gloves and hand sanitizer. You’re not sure what you’ll need, exactly, but you figure it’s better to have it and not need it than the other way around.

“Jiyoon!” you gush, swiping to answer the call coming in on your phone. “Hi!”

“Hey, I just got off the phone with Jungkook.” There is a lot of background noise, and it’s hard to hear her clearly.

“Oh, wonderful! I got the results today. There is a possibility of next week being—”

A loud laugh cuts through from Jiyoon’s end, the added clang of dishes drowning you out further. “Sorry, I’m still at dinner. Next week, you say? I’ll be going on a business trip the whole of next week, Namjoon wants me to travel with a client for a go-see.”

Disappointment drags at your shoulders and has your smile softening into a frown. You suppose it can wait a few more weeks. “Okay, no problem. That will give us time to plan a bit more anyway.”

“Sure thing!” Jiyoon yells, the line cutting out momentarily. “I’ll catch you later. I can’t wait to see you when I get back. Thank you. I love you so much!”

“Okay, yeah, love you—” The line goes dead before you can finish. “Love you, too,” you murmur into the quiet of your apartment.

A minor setback. But it’s okay; you’re sure you were getting ahead of yourself anyway. Taking a few weeks to confirm things and actually come up with a game plan is probably for the better. But it doesn’t hurt to start doing that now. Letting the smile that hadn’t left your face most of the day slide back onto your lips, you continue setting up everything in your bathroom so it’ll be there for when you do need it.

It turns out you don’t have to wait—at least, according to Jungkook. From the constant flood of text messages you’ve gotten from him over the last few days, as much as Jiyoon would love to be there to help, she’s given her blessing to proceed with the ICI without her. In her own words, via a text you got last night, there will be plenty more for her to be present for, and she’s far too excited for you to wait for her to return.

Jiyoon has been relatively quiet, but Jungkook explained in delicate words that she’s okay; she just has a lot on her plate right now. Even though it may seem like she’s on the outside, it’s more that this is a very sensitive topic for Jiyoon. Despite wanting a child, ICI is nearly as taboo a subject as IVF when it comes to Jiyoon; you know this. She’s told you how much it makes her feel like a failure. So, you’re content when Jungkook takes full responsibility for the surrogacy journey and has promised to be there for you every step of the way, including coming over to your place tonight to help you with the first ICI attempt.

You’ve been testing your ovulation each morning, and the positive test strip in your bathroom trash has started a full-tilt, day-long extravaganza. It’s a Thursday, just a few days after you got your green light from the doctor, meaning you were able to leave work early and are now sitting on your couch waiting patiently for Jungkook to arrive.

All your research and reading about ICI makes you nervous about what’s to come. It’s not that you’re going to be explicitly intimate with Jungkook, but you’re well aware of the fact that fresh sperm samples, as in within a thirty-minute window, are the best. Which means, he’s going to have to somehow provide the sample while he’s here.

The idea of Jungkook masturbating in your bathroom should feel awkward or perhaps embarrassing to think about, yet you’re oddly comfortable with it. It’s a natural thing, something necessary to create something that’s going to be beautiful.

By the time Jungkook knocks on your door, your hands are clammy, and it takes you two tries to get the handle to turn. He greets you with a giant smile and shining eyes, absolutely breathtaking.

“Hi,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you parrot, unable to contain from reflecting the smile still on his face. “Please, come on in.”

“Thanks.” Jungkook steps past you, and the soft fragrance of his laundry detergent catches in your nose. “I brought everything we need,” he says, holding up a bag. He’s wearing the same denim jacket he was the other night, a white T-shirt underneath above a pair of worn, light-washed jeans, and black boots on his feet that he toes off before heading into your living room.

“Can I get you anything to drink or maybe something to eat? Have you had dinner yet?” You’re not sure how this is going to go, if it’s just going to be a clinical experience or something more comfortable between friends. Because you are friends, right? At this point, you should consider him more than just your best friend’s husband; he should at least be seen as a friend of yours, too.

Jungkook deposits the bag on your couch and turns to look at you. “Um, maybe if you had some beer or something, but I know you don’t drink—” There is a nervous energy to the way he’s talking, words coming out a little too quickly “—so, er, maybe just some water is fine.”

“Actually,” you say, hurrying into the kitchen and opening the fridge, “I got, well, is this okay?” You hold up a 6-pack of beer you bought on a whim a few nights ago. It’s true that you don’t really drink, but you weren’t thinking of yourself at the time that you bought it. In actuality, you were thinking of Jungkook, knowing he’s partial to this brand, and figured…well, you’re not sure what you figured, you bought it before you could give it too much thought.

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth lifts, his smile turning into a light smirk. “Wow, my favorite. I’d love to, but actually, I’m not sure if I should, no matter how nervous I am right now…not until after, at least. I haven’t read anything about how alcohol might impact things, but I’ve not had a drop of alcohol to drink nor a bite of junk food in the last week, just in case.”

“Oh, right. Of course, I should have thought about that.”

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t thinking either, I haven’t been able to think about much at all, if I’m being honest,” Jungkook laughs nervously, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. “Is this weird? Are you sure you want to do this?”

It is weird, but not in a bad way, and you don’t want to admit that because you don’t want him to worry. So, you simply smile and shake your head. “It’s not all that weird, it’s…well, just not weird. I am nervous,” you decide to give him at least that. “I’m worried that it might not work, or that I might do something wrong.”

“W-what do you think you might do wrong?” Jungkook asks, moving closer to you. “I’ve…I’ve read a lot about the how, I even got an informational video from my doctor.”

You can feel heat crawling up your neck. “I’m not sure, exactly. I guess just the whole process in general.”

There is a beat where you can see Jungkook contemplating his words. He chews on his bottom lip, eyes unfocused for a moment before returning to you. “I could help if you want. Purely in a platonic, helpful way, no funny business, I swear.”

“Um, I don’t know if that…uh, I can try first, maybe?” You can’t seem to swallow past the thick knot in your throat at the thought of asking Jungkook to help assist you in…well, that.

“Sure, okay. Should we…get started?” Jungkook asks, his eyes flicking back to the bag he dropped on your couch. 

Your stomach flips at his words. “Yeah,” you say, voice barely above a whisper, feeling suddenly even more shy than usual.

“Great.” Jungkook claps his hands together before retrieving the bag from the couch. “I have everything we need. It's probably best if we begin this in the bathroom.”

Your apartment has one bathroom, which is joined to the bedroom but is still accessible through the hallway. Jungkook leads the way down the hall, flicking on the light inside the bathroom before stepping aside to let you in as well.

“Have you talked with Jiyoon?” you ask, seeking something to fill the silence as you watch him unpack everything from the bag and arrange it on the bathroom counter.

Jungkook shakes his head in a so-so manner. “I spoke with her for a few minutes earlier to let her know the plan for tonight. She couldn’t talk long and it was hard to hear with all the background noise, but she’s excited and said she can’t wait to be back at the end of the week.”

After washing his hands, Jungkook opens up the packet of a large sterile pad and spreads it out across the rest of the counter. From the research you’ve done, you recognize some of the things he begins to set out. There is a collection cup with an orange screw-on lid, a large syringe with a hose attaching it to a bulbous silicone mushroom-shaped plug, and several single-use packets of water-based lube. He also sets out a box of pregnancy tests, giving you a sheepish smile when you raise an eyebrow at it.

“I, uh, bought some, too,” you say, opening the medicine cabinet to show him the large box of pregnancy tests sitting between your ovulation test kit and your toothbrush.

Jungkook smiles. “I guess we’re on the same wavelength, huh?”

You have to stop yourself from leaning too far into the unusual, yet enticingly warm and appealing, feeling you get when he smiles like that. Clearing your throat, you gesture to the spread of tools. “What now?”

“I think we should discuss a game plan, make sure we know what to do and when to do it. There are some things I’ve read online, plus the directions in this pamphlet,” he says, slipping a folded paper from the box the inseminator came in.

Leaning in, you try to read the step-by-step process written on the paper over Jungkook’s shoulder. He shifts, steps closer to you, and angles the pamphlet to make it easier for you to see.

“Step one, collect the sample. Step two, transfer the sample into the syringe. Step three, insert the silicone plug into the…v-vagina,” you choke over the word, feeling heat licking up your neck, “as close to the cervix as possible. Step four, depress the plunger to administer the sample.”

“Seems pretty simple, right?”

You’re not sure you’d say simple. Sure, step by step, it looks pretty straightforward, but you seem to be responsible for the most challenging part, and that makes you even more nervous than before. “Yeah, simple.”

“Give me a few minutes, I need to—uh,” he points to the sample cup. “I’ll, you know.”

“Oh, right, right, of course. I’ll just—" you hook a thumb over your shoulder towards the door that leads to your bedroom ”—wait in there.”

It’s hard not to pace around your bedroom as you wait. You try to stick to the far side of your bedroom, not wanting to come too close to the bathroom and overhear anything you shouldn’t. The fact your best friend’s husband is in your bathroom masturbating is a weird enough revelation, albeit a necessary one for the ICI procedure; you’d still rather afford him some privacy.

After three minutes, you stop counting the seconds that pass, realizing that means you’re counting how long it takes for Jungkook to produce the sample. Which is something you’re vehemently trying to avoid thinking about so casually.

The bathroom door opening startles you, stopping you in your tracks. Jungkook clears his throat. “Ready?”

You move over to the bathroom. “I think so.”

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. You can do this and don’t forget, I’ll be here if you need any help, promise. Purely for help, for the process.” Jungkook swipes a finger in an x over his chest. “Cross my heart.”

“You’re right,” you say, trying to bolster your own confidence. “I can do this.”

You step past Jungkook and into the bathroom, but his hand on your arm pulls you up short. “Wait, wait. Would you feel more comfortable doing it in your room? It’s just that I’ve read it’s best if you could lay on your back with your hips elevated for fifteen to thirty minutes after.” He nods at your bed. “More comfortable than the bathroom floor.”

The idea of doing this on your bed crosses a line, taking this from a medical process to something far more intimate. “Maybe just a pillow,” you say, grabbing one of the decorative throw pillows you never seem to remember to put back on your bed but keep in a small pile on the floor instead.

“Okay.” Jungkook gives you a small smile, and it makes his eyes look soft and bright. The kind of smile you hope you can help him bestow onto a baby.

You leave the door unlocked, just in case you need his help. In your bathroom, there is no evidence of Jungkook's actions other than the very full sample cup sitting on the medical pad covering the counter.

The cup is warm to the touch, which is startling, though you know it shouldn’t be. Placing the pillow down on the floor, you shimmy your pants and panties down your legs and step out of them. There is a lingering scent in the bathroom; it’s a mix of Jungkook’s cologne but also of something clinical. You realize there are two empty packets of lube in your trashcan, and you can’t help the image that pieces itself together in your mind.

Swallowing hard against the threatening flood of further indecent thoughts, you move quickly to prepare the inseminator. It’s a systematic process you can do with little thought—safe—unscrewing the cap of the cup and filling the syringe. Once you’re in position on the floor, hips elevated on the pillow, empty packets of lube discarded and your body primed, you take the silicone plug in one hand and the syringe in the other.

The directions make it seem so easy. But as you try to fit the silicone plug inside, you can’t seem to get it to go where you want it. It keeps slipping sideways and tugging at the tube connecting it to the syringe. Your heart begins to race as you realize you might not be able to do this—not on your own, at least.

By the fourth try, fifteen minutes have passed, and you’re in full-blown panic mode. Your breath wheezes in and out as you crunch up, hands fumbling between your thighs, and sweat forming on your brow. “Oh god, oh god. I—uh, god dammit…Jungkook!” His name is out of your mouth in a strangled yell before you can stop it.

“What is it? Is everything okay? Are you okay?” The frantic words are muffled through the door. The door rattles on its hinges, and you can tell he’s pressing up against it from the sound of denim scuffing along it, probably pressing his ear against it in an effort to hear your response.

You’ve managed to get it inside, but you’re not sure if you can get it all the way in, pressed up against your cervix where it needs to be. It’s possible you used too much lube, though the idea that it’s possible to have too much lubricant seems ridiculous. But no matter what you do or how far you press your fingers in, you’re either at a wrong angle, or your fingers keep slipping on the plug too much. Asking Jungkook for help is the last thing you want to do, but you’re not sure what other options there are.

“C-can you come in here?” you ask in a hoarse voice. There is a moment of silence before the door eases open and Jungkook sticks his head inside. His eyes are closed so tight it makes you let out a snap of nervous laughter. “I think…I think I need help. I’m sorry, I just can’t—it’s not going in all the way, I don’t think,” you gush in explanation.

“Do you—is it okay if I?” Jungkook asks, leaving the obvious unsaid.

“Um, yes…please. I’ve tried, and I just…I don’t want to ruin this. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Jungkook shuffles into the bathroom, eyes still firmly closed and arms out in the air. “Um, where exactly are you so I don’t step on you by accident?”

Snagging the edge of the towel hanging on the rack, you pull it down and drape it over your knees to make yourself as decent as you can be in this situation. “Just open your eyes, it’s okay.”

Slowly, his eyes peek open and finally land on where you’re laid out on the floor, bent knees covered in a towel and your shirt askew from all your efforts.

“How can I help?” Jungkook kneels down beside you, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it to the side.

“I just…I don’t know if it’s all the way in. Can you—with your hand, I know that’s horrible and weird, but I don’t know what else to—”

“No, no, it’s not weird. I said I’d help. It’s clinical, right? We’re doing this just as a medical procedure. Like I said, no funny business, I swear. It’s for the baby. I’ll help you.”

“Okay.” You nod, squeezing your eyes shut because it’s hard to look him in the eye when he’s about to—the towel shifts, and cool air licking between your thighs has your mind going blank.

“Look at me,” Jungkook requests, to which you immediately comply. “I need you to promise me you’ll let me know if I hurt you or do something you don’t like. I’ll stop immediately, okay?” When you don’t immediately say anything, he adds, “I need you to tell me you understand.”

“I understand.”

Stretching across to the sink, Jungkook keeps his eyes on yours as he washes his hands and then shifts the towel more, folding it up and over your knees. “I’m going to place my hand on your thigh. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

His fingers are gentle against your skin, softer than you expected, and warm from the water. You can feel errant droplets of water streak down your thigh and roll over the bottom of your ass. You try to focus on that feeling instead of the way Jungkook’s hand trails down your thigh until his fingers graze your outer lips.

“I’m going to use two of my fingers to try and seat the inseminator. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” this time, it comes out as more a breath than a word.

You tense at the subtle press of his fingers and how they probe their way down until they find your entrance. There is easily enough lube down there to grease a bakery’s worth of cake pans, considering the half a dozen empty packets now in your trashcan, but you can’t help but take a deep, fortifying breath as he begins to press in.

“Still okay?” he asks, fingers moving achingly slow.

“I think so.”

Jungkook’s brow pinches. “I feel it…only about two inches in. I’m going to push it further now. Tell me if it hurts or is uncomfortable.”

Never in a million years did you think you’d ever find yourself in this position. Not only are you butterflied open on your bathroom floor, but your best friend’s husband is now middle-knuckle deep in your vagina, and you’re not sure how to feel about it. In fact, you’re trying to do everything you can to not think about how you stretch around the intrusion of his fingers, or that it feels far better than it should.

“Do you think you can get it all the way?” you ask, voice warbling with nerves.

Jungkook hums, his lips pushing out as if he is trying to concentrate. “I think I’m almost there. Does that feel okay, is it good?” 

Not once does he look away from you as he’s pushing deeper into your body. You think you want him to look away, to break that intimate contact, but you can’t even bring yourself to do that—even though you know you should. And the whispered exchange does little to help. Is it good? You’re going to burn in hell for the thoughts now flooding through.

“Oh!” You jolt in place, eyes going wide, all previous thoughts gathering into one singular point. Jungkook mirrors your surprise, his mouth popping open in silent shock.

“I’m so sorry!” he babbles. “I didn’t mean to do that. Oh fuck, god damn, shit…okay, sorry, let me just—” Jungkook is still gentle, yet swift in finishing seating the inseminator before quickly extracting his fingers from your body. “Please believe me when I say I am sorry, and I swear I wasn’t trying…I wasn’t trying to do that.”

Your body is still buzzing from the that he’s talking about—the graze of his thumb over your clit. It’s clear it was an accident by his reaction, but it does nothing to lessen the pulse that is now singing through your body.

“I-it’s okay. Really, it’s okay. It’s fine.” You’re not sure if your words are convincing enough, but Jungkook jerks his head in what you assume is a nod of acknowledgement.

“Um, it’s, uh, it’s in. Do you need me to do the syringe, too?”

“Just do it.” You exhale a shaky breath, finally tearing your eyes away from his. You’re confident he’s still watching you, even as he depresses the syringe and injects his cum into your body—as crass as that sounds in your head, that’s exactly what’s happening, and it’s the first time you think you’re realizing how truly fucked you are for this.

Nothing has happened between you and Jungkook, not in that way, but for some reason, guilt won’t leave you alone. You feel like you’ve just betrayed Jiyoon and feel even more like a ridiculous schoolgirl ruining her life over a crush on a boy. You’re intimately aware of the warmth and the subtle change in pressure as he finishes depressing the inseminator. It makes you want to squirm, but you chew your bottom lip and tap your toes instead.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice soft and gentle.

“I should be asking you that,” you sigh.

Jungkook balks. “What? Why would you say that? I’m fine…I’m the one that—” He nods toward where your body is now covered with the towel again. As soon as he was done plunging the depressor, he unfolded the towel and made you decent once more.

“You didn’t mean to,” you say, maybe more as a reminder to yourself than him.

“No, but that doesn’t make it okay.” Jungkook settles back on his heels, using one of the wet wipes that came in the kit to clean his hands. Suddenly, he laughs. “This is ridiculous, right? I mean, look at us, we just did something…beautiful, and we’re not allowing ourselves to enjoy it.”

You chuckle softly, fidgeting with one of the ends of the towel. “It is kind of ridiculous, huh? Sorry that I freaked out and you had to do…that.”

”I’m not. Sorry, that is. I’m glad you asked for my help. We’re in this together.” Jungkook gives you a smile, similar to the one he wore when he knocked on your door over an hour ago, and takes up the hand not pinching at the towel in his, squeezing it. “I don’t know that I can even begin to articulate with words just what this means to me. Thank you so much.”

“It means a lot to me, as well. Being able to do this for you and Jiyoon is not something you need to thank me for. I’d do anything for her. She’s my best friend. We’ve been through so much together over the last twenty years…I just want to see her happy. You, too, of course.”

Jungkook hums in the back of his throat, keeping his hand wrapped around yours as he leans back, using the side of the tub for support. A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, spanning several minutes until Jungkook speaks again. “Have you ever thought about being a mom, you know, before this?”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to answer with what you think he wants to hear, that this has always been your wish, but instead, you choose to give him an honest answer. “Not really.”

”Why not? If you don’t mind me asking.”

If it were anyone else asking, you might mind, but…

You purse your lips before offering yet another truth. “I guess I just…I’m me, you know?”

”No, I don’t think I do know. What do you mean?”

“I’m a single woman in my thirties with no prospects on the horizon. My last boyfriend was over five years ago. I’m a modern-day spinster. Nothing is wrong with that, I love who I am…I just, no one has ever shown interest in me like that. Though it’s not necessary to have another person in the picture, it’s just that…I don’t even know, I’m rambling, sorry.”

Jungkook looks at you for a long moment, and it’s so hard to read his expression. All you want to do is plead with him to tell you what’s on his mind.

“You shouldn’t do that to yourself,” he finally says.

”Do what?” you ask, uncertain what he’s referring to.

“Sell yourself short like that. You are easily one of the hardest-working people I’ve ever met. You have a successful career and amazing tastes in art and food. Not to mention, you have the biggest heart of anyone I know. You’re…you’re amazing, and I know for a fact that people think so, too.” 

You puff out a breath, trying not to laugh at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Because I’m one of them. I wouldn’t choose just anyone to do this with. After all, the baby will be half of you, too. A win-win in my book.” The corner of his mouth tilts in a small smile.

You’re pretty certain you’ve never had something create such a viscerally emotional response in you. It takes everything you have to blink away the sudden onslaught of tears that threaten to overwhelm you.

When you finally think you can speak without melting into a blubbering mess, you whisper, “I think you’re pretty amazing, too.”

💔💔💔

Jungkook

It’s well after midnight by the time Jungkook makes it home. He’s positively buzzing and can’t even think about going to bed just yet. There is far too much going on in his head, so he decides to expend some energy in the tiny home gym he turned one of the spare rooms into.

The condo he and Jiyoon bought two years into their marriage is spacious, spanning half the second and third floors of the building. There is a three-car garage on the first floor, as well as an elevator that leads to the landing out front. Across the landing is where Taehyung lives with his roommate Jimin, another well-to-do model they met through Kim Exclusives.

Jiyoon stuck her nose up at the fact that Taehyung was buying the unit across from them when Jungkook first told her, but so far, it hasn’t caused too many problems over the years. It helps at times like this, when Jiyoon is traveling for work, to have a friend so close by. Usually, Jungkook would knock next door when he can’t get his head cleared, but for some reason, Jungkook doesn’t want to tell Taehyung about what happened at your place. He doesn’t want to tell anyone, for that matter, holding onto it as a private thing for as long as possible.

Losing himself in sets of squats and curls is far safer than describing in maddening detail the way your soft, lush—Jungkook slams his hand against the squat rack and forces his thoughts away from that line of thinking.

Just because you’re a gorgeous woman with a nice body doesn’t give him the right to think about you like that. Especially considering he’s married to your best friend, whom he loves more than anything. Besides, he’s better than that, knows the whole alpha male hindbrain is the stuff of fantasy. There is no excuse for him having such sordid and outlandish thoughts about you like that. It was simply doing what needed to be done to help—for the baby.

With that in his mind instead, he moves through the motions of his workout. By the time he’s dripping sweat and his muscles are trembling with fatigue, the sun is starting to peek through the windows, and he hasn’t thought about you in hours—well, not much, at least. And when he does, he says it's just because he's thinking of what might be passed down to your baby—er—his and Jiyoon's baby—he reminds himself.

It’s been an excruciating three weeks waiting and waiting to hear from you about something other than work. After Jiyoon returned home from her business trip, Jungkook told her about that night, including the accidental slip-up. At first, she was upset, accusing him of taking advantage of her best friend. It took hours of strained conversation to get her to understand that it was more of a clinical procedure than Jungkook fingering you.

When that accusation was first thrown out, Jungkook was at a loss for words and completely thrown off the tracks. Jiyoon apologized, saying she didn’t understand how he didn’t think she’d be upset about it but that she’d forgive him for it anyway. She then gathered Jungkook into her arms, and they cuddled in bed for the first time in what felt like forever.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if Jiyoon would confront you at work over it, but as the days continued on without a peep from you, he figured things were okay between the two of you. There were times when Jungkook wished something had gone down with you and Jiyoon because then, at least, he’d have an excuse to talk to you in a way that didn’t make him look like he only cared about you now that you were possibly pregnant or with something work-related.

He knows these things take time, and there is only so much he can do. So, he’s been pouring himself into work and filling his schedule with as many activities as possible to keep his mind off of waiting.

“Jungkook, let’s go.” Taehyung raps his knuckles on Jungkook’s shoulder, grabbing his attention. “Head out of the clouds, daddy-o, we’re needed in hair and makeup.”

Sighing, Jungkook hauls himself off the couch in the studio waiting room and follows Taehyung into the space where the makeup and hair artists are set up. He arrived at the studio early this morning and had spent the last hour spilling his guts to Taehyung, something he promised himself he wouldn’t do but couldn’t keep it contained any longer.

“Don’t call me that,” Jungkook grumbles.

Taehyung smirks. “What? Is that not what you’re hoping to be called? Don’t tell me you and Jiyoon are into daddy roleplay. That might make it a little weird to have your kid also call you daddy—ow!”

Rubbing the back of his head where Jungkook smacked him, Taehyung harrumphs before sidestepping the line of chairs and taking a seat in the one farthest from Jungkook.

“Fuck off, Taehyung. After everything I just told you, that’s all you have to say?”

Taehyung throws up his hands, and the hairdresser at his station begins to comb through his black tresses. “The way it seems to me, you’re the only one making a big deal about this. If you want to check on her, I’m sure she won’t think it’s only because she’s your possible surrogate and not because you’re friends after this. And sure, you stuck your fingers into your wife’s best friend’s vagina, but so what? It was what you needed to do. If I really needed you to touch my dick in order to complete an important procedure, I hope you’d do it with a smile on your face.”

Jungkook opens his mouth to protest but closes it when he realizes he can’t really argue against that. Taehyung is right. He did what he had to do. Hell, he knows that, he used those words himself when explaining it to Jiyoon. There’s just this feeling he can’t shake, he’s far too nervous and on edge right now. If only you’d reach out, put him out of his misery with an update.

“I hate it when you’re right. I’ll stop being such a—”

“Hi, guys.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, only staff and models are allowed back here.”

“Whoa, hey, wait. She’s our manager, and she can be here.” Jungkook is quick to spout, not caring if there is desperation evident in his voice. Once his eyes landed on you, it was all he could do not to jump up from the makeup chair, cross the room, and drop to his knees and beg for an update.

The directing assistant who stepped in your path gives you a once-over that makes Jungkook grind his teeth, but he just sighs and steps to the side. “Okay, but you’re both needed on set in fifteen,” he says, directing the last part toward Jungkook and Taehyung.

“It’s okay, I won’t be long. I just…” You hold up a thin manilla envelope and give it a shake. “Jiyoon is out of the office for the day, she said I should let you see first and that you could tell her later tonight at home. So, here I am. I thought we could look together.”

The makeup artist dabbing a sponge on Jungkook’s jaw lifts an eyebrow when he jerks forward in the chair, intent on scrambling across the room despite being in the middle of blending.

“Two minutes,” she says, stepping back from Jungkook and turning to the makeup collection on her table.

“Okay!” Jungkook springs from the chair and rushes over to you, having no regard for the way his hair flops out of place on his forehead. “Hi,” he says when he’s standing in front of you. “I didn’t realize you had an appointment today.”

“I didn’t,” you tell him. “I just wasn’t feeling all that well this morning, so…well, I just wanted to ensure everything was okay. They had to do a pregnancy test, it was routine.” You offer the folder to him. “Want to do the honors?”

Jungkook’s fingers are trembling as he takes the folder from you. It takes him three tries to get the flap open and to extract the slip of paper inside. You give him an encouraging smile as he looks to you for reassurance before letting his eyes sweep over the report.

“It’s…we’re…you’re…holy fuck. You’re pregnant. You’re pregnant! YOU’RE PREGNANT!” Jungkook shouts before breaking out into a bout of ecstatic laughter. “Fucking hell, oh my god, you’re pregnant! I’m going to be a father. Me. A father. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Yes!”

You join in his laughter, the sound pleasant and musical, as he throws his arms around you and spins you in a circle. There are shining tears in your eyes when he sets you down again, happiness clear on your face. “I’m pregnant,” you whisper, the words reverent and full of awe.

There have never been more beautiful words. Jungkook can’t help but say them again. “We’re pregnant.”

It’s hard to say if what Jungkook is feeling right now is considered a healthy response to what his wife, Jiyoon, just told him. But, the erratic beat of his heart paired with the incessant ringing in his ears doesn’t necessarily feel bad, just like he’s having some sort of out-of-body experience.

“Say that again,” he requests, softly smacking his lips, trying to work moisture back into his mouth.

Jiyoon sighs, shuffling the papers on her lap. “I’m pregnant,” she repeats the same words you said just two weeks ago.

“You’re certain?” Jungkook wants to believe he heard her correctly but can’t help asking for clarity again.

“I am.” Jiyoon smiles at Jungkook, her eyes watery. “It’s right here, look.”

Jungkook hesitantly takes the top sheet of paper from Jiyoon, letting his eyes devour the words and numbers on it. It’s all there, everything he needs to see and know for the truth—hCG levels far, far above average, an inked red circle around it along with a doctor’s barely legible scrawl of ‘pregnant’ beside that.

“How far along? It’s been—” Jungkook pauses to try to do the math in his head; it’s been weeks since they were last intimate—the night they agreed to do ICI. 

“About eight weeks,” Jiyoon offers. “I suspected a few weeks ago, you know, when I was a little sick that weekend—the one when we found out about, well, I didn’t want to get my hopes up or disappoint you if it wasn’t true, especially after such good news…so I scheduled an appointment. I had to be sure, had to be certain.”

“You’re pregnant.” The words feel thick on Jungkook’s tongue, like he’s trying to talk through a mouthful of peanut butter; sweet, decadent peanut butter.

“I am,” she whispers, the confirmation turning into a squeal of laughter as Jungkook sweeps her into his arms and shouts his own happiness.

Peppering kisses all over Jiyoon’s face, Jungkook hops around, alternating between shouting how much he loves her and how he can’t believe his luck. “I’m going to be a father. Twice! What did I do to deserve this?! I love you so much. Fuck!”

“Calm down,” Jiyoon giggles. “Put me down before you make me hurl.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Jungkook pants, setting Jiyoon back down on her feet. “I’m just so excited!” He wiggles his hips and shimmies his shoulders. “We’ll need to order a second crib. Should we have the babies share a room at first? That seems the easier option, right? I bet there is a book on that somewhere, I need to go—”

“Hey, calm, right?” Jiyoon’s smile is warm, soft. “We have time. There is no need to rush. Can we just enjoy this for a little while longer?” she asks, grabbing one of his hands and placing it over her belly.

“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” Pressing his forehead to hers, Jungkook wraps his other arms around Jiyoon and sighs contentedly. “I love you so much, babe.”

“I love you, too, Jungkook.”

💔💔💔

Jiyoon seems nervous, pushing around the chopped salad on her plate as she chews her bottom lip. She hasn’t met your eyes the entire time you’ve been at lunch. You want to ask her what’s wrong, but you’ve been friends with her long enough to know that she’ll come to you with it when she wants, and pushing won’t do you any good.

“So,” she draws the word out, lips forming an exaggerated pucker.

“Yes?”

“How are you feeling?” You can tell that’s not what she wants to say or ask, but you indulge her anyway, hoping you’ll get to the actual matter of why she insisted on going to lunch with you today.

You shift in your seat, setting your fork down on your half-empty plate. “I feel good. I just have some nausea in the mornings sometimes, but it’s not too bad.”

Finally, Jiyoon’s eyes come up to meet yours. “I know what you mean,” she says, the words slow and enunciated—pointed. Her free hand flutters over her belly as if for emphasis.

“What?” The word is more breath than question. “You are?”

“I am,” Jiyoon confirms, tears shining in her eyes.

“Oh, my goodness! Jiyoon! What? But how? Oh my goodness! That’s wonderful!” You can’t contain your excitement for your friend, throwing yourself across the tabletop to hug her fiercely.

She’s laughing as you sit back down, clearly buzzing with her own excitement. “We just found out. It seems a miracle was in our cards after all. It’s still early, nine weeks or so now.” That would make it just two weeks, give or take, before you and Jungkook did the ICI.

“Wow,” you breathe, your own hand landing on your stomach. “They might as well be twins. It’ll be so cool—what?” Jiyoon’s frown stilts your excitement. “What is it?”

She casts her eyes away from yours again, pulling her full bottom lip between her teeth before letting it pop back out. “I don’t know. I just thought…it’s not too late if you wanted to—I just know it’s a lot on someone, your body, the pain and everything that comes after. And now that I’m pregnant, it’s just, we don’t expect you to continue…if you don’t want. We’d be completely understanding and fully supportive if you—”

“Termination? Is that…what you’re talking about? And Jungkook agrees?”

Her nose wrinkles. “I don’t like that word. I’m just saying that we will support your decision to do that if you’d like. It was never in the plans to have more than one child, and now it would be two newborns at the same time…that’s a lot, you know? Twice as many diapers, bottles, and sleepless nights. It would be hard to say goodbye, but we’d still love you and not think less of you for it.”

Your mouth feels too dry for you to form words. You know what she’s saying. Though there isn’t a single ounce of you that desires that, you also understand the hesitation Jiyoon is expressing. She’s right. There wasn’t a plan for two babies. So, what now? Do you volunteer to help? Do you seek out the advice of a lawyer to know where your parental rights might sit in the case they decide they don’t want the baby in the end? So many thoughts swirl through your mind that it makes you dizzy.

“Can I think about it?” you ask, feeling for the first time a wave of uncertainty.

Jiyoon gives you what you assume is supposed to be an assuring smile. “Of course. And if you decide not to, I’m sure we can come up with some sort of system. We’ll figure it out.”

She seems so sure that no matter your decision, it’ll all be okay. “Really?”

“Absolutely. I want—we want, these babies, even if we didn’t plan for two. I was just letting you know that there is that option if you want it.”

“I-I don’t think I do, but if that changes…I’ll let you know.”

“That’s all I ask! Now, tell me, what do you think it’ll be?” she asks, patting her flat stomach again. “A boy or a girl? I’m leaning more towards a boy…”

💔💔💔

Jungkook

Jungkook still can’t believe his life. Two babies—two extraordinary miracles, it’s surreal—perfect. His calendar has never been more full. There’s the regular schedule of photo shoots, meetings, and other client work but now those are penned in between the baby classes he’s signed up for and various doctor’s appointments.

One of which is scheduled this afternoon, just a few hours after another this morning. There is your ten-week and then Jiyoon’s three-month appointment. Things have been going great with the pregnancies being so close together, but it does sometimes make appointments and times overlap. Which is how Jungkook finds himself sprinting across the parking lot of Jiyoon’s doctor’s office. He’s late—really late. He didn’t mean to arrive so late. It’s just that your appointment ran a little longer than expected, and traffic wasn’t exactly on his side, either.

Just as Jungkook puts his hand on the handle to open the door to the doctor’s office, it swings outward, nearly smacking him in the face. Jiyoon glares at him, a peeved sigh escaping her.

“You missed it.”

“What? No. I still have—” he glances down at his watch. “The appointment should have lasted at least forty-five minutes, and it’s only been thirty.”

Jiyoon rolls her eyes. “They were able to get me in a few minutes early.” She pushes past him and starts towards her car. “Everything is fine, by the way. The baby is measuring small but is still healthy. Thanks for asking,” she snarks, holding up a length of printed film.

Jungkook grabs the strip from her hand, jogging to keep up with her angry strides. “Wow,” he whispers, looking down at the 2D images. “She’s beautiful, so tiny.”

“She? It could be a boy.”

“Is that what you hope it is?” Jungkook asks, skipping ahead of Jiyoon before turning and walking backwards in front of her. His eyes barely leave the black-and-white grainy images. He traces over the faintly-there contours of the face, the delicate nose and forehead.

Clicking the unlock button on her keyfob, Jiyoon sighs again. “I just want it to be healthy. I don’t care what gender it is.”

“You don’t care?” Jungkook purses his lips, finally looking up at his wife. She’s wearing a designer pantsuit, the deep navy complementing her porcelain complexion and making the red lip she has on pop beautifully. Pregnancy looks good on her. He opens his mouth to tell her so when she cuts him off.

“Don’t say it like that. Of course, I care. Good god, Jungkook, why do you have to make me feel like shit all the time? First you missed my appointment, because why? Because you were busy playing daddy to someone else. And now, here you are, accusing me of being a terrible mother before it’s even born. Fuck you. Fuck you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook is so confused. “What? I didn’t—playing daddy? What are you talking about? I already said I was sorry for missing the appointment, you know the times were really close. It was her ten-week appointment. They were measuring her nuchal translucency, you remember how important that is!”

“Whatever,” Jiyoon deadpans, pushing around Jungkook and climbing into her car. “I have a meeting tonight, don’t wait up for me.”

Before Jungkook can respond, the door slams shut, Jiyoon turns over the engine, and takes off. Maybe not everything is perfect, he laments to himself, mulling over his earlier thoughts. With a determined expression on his face, Jungkook makes his way to his own car and promises to do his best to make this right, vowing not to let something like this happen again.

Of course, it’s only some weeks later that Jungkook has to break this vow. It’s not his fault, it’s no ones. It seems that life just wants to test him, perhaps make sure he’s honing his time management skills for when the babies come.

Everything has been going great since his hiccup with missing Jiyoon’s twelve-week appointment. He’s been able to shuffle around his schedule and work with the both of you to ensure appointments don’t overlap or are too close together.

Jiyoon has become reliant on him, which is something Jungkook revels in. It’s like their marriage is finally back to the way it once was, full of nights cuddled in bed and romantic dinners—sans the wine. While you’ve been fiercely independent, yet charmingly sweet when it comes to Jungkook and Jiyoon and sharing the pregnancy experience with them.

There have been a few discussions about the fact that now there are going to be two babies instead of one. Jungkook has spent nearly all of his free time turning the guest bedroom into a nursery fit for two. His home gym has become a catch-all, most of the equipment being confined into a corner to make room for the furniture that came out of the guest room-now-nursery.

It’s been a lot, but it’s something Jungkook would never trade for anything in all the world. He’s positively jubilant over the prospect of being a father. It’s something he’s dreamed about for as long as he can remember. Now, it’s just a few months away, a permanent light in his life.

“J-jungkook?” your trembling voice sounds through his phone when he swipes to answer the call, tossing the paint roller into the bucket. Butter yellow coats the walls of the nursery and dots the hem of his old t-shirt.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I think so. I don’t know. I slipped on the stairs, I’m at the ER right now—”

“I’m on my way!”

“Jungkook, no. It’s okay. I know you have things going on today. I just thought I should tell you. Jiyoon was in a meeting, so Namjoon said he’d pass her a memo when she was done.”

He’s supposed to attend a First-Time Fathers class in an hour, and Jiyoon has her twenty-two-week anatomy scan this afternoon. The class can wait. If he’s lucky, he can go to the ER, check on you, and then make it to Jiyoon’s appointment.

“No, no, you’re not sitting in the ER by yourself. I’ll text Jiyoon and let her know that I’m leaving now to come check on you.”

“O-okay.”

The line disconnects, and Jungkook slaps the lid on the paint bucket and throws a plastic sheet over the paint tray. If it dries out, then it dries out. Paint can be replaced; your health is far more crucial right now.

Walking into the entryway, he thumbs open his messages and types out a quick text to Jiyoon before tossing his phone on the small bench by the door so he can pull on his shoes.

It’s a twenty-minute drive to the hospital, and it takes another ten minutes of searching to find you sitting in a waiting room with a large ice pack resting on your right foot.

“Hey, are you okay? Have you been seen yet? How long have you been here? What happened?”

You hold up a hand to ward off more of his word vomit, an embarrassed smile soft on your face. “Slow down, have a seat. I’m okay. They said I should be called back soon.”

Instead of sitting, Jungkook kneels on the floor in front of you. His fingers the ice pack, his face falling even further. “What happened?”

“I slipped in the stairwell at work, missed the last step and came down hard on the side of my foot.”

“Can I?” he asks, fingers moving to the corner of the ice pack.

You nod. “Yeah.”

Lifting it gently, Jungkook takes in the sight of your foot. The black ballet flats you’re wearing give him a clear view of the swelling that’s already beginning along the top and side of your foot.

“Do you want me to find a wheelchair?”

Before you can answer Jungkook a nurse comes through one of the doors, pushing a wheelchair. She wheels it over to you and says, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook slips his arm under yours as you stand before slowly helping you lower into the wheelchair. “Would you like to push her back?” the nurse asks Jungkook.

“I can come?” he wonders, hopeful.

“Of course. Unless you’d rather wait out here, and I can call for you when your wife is done.”

“Oh, she’s not—”

“I’d like for you to come if that’s okay? I don’t really want to be alone,” you interject before Jungkook can correct the nurse. She gives Jungkook a polite nod and gestures towards the door she came through.

“Please come right this way. We’ll need to get a quick weight and a urine sample before I can get you into your room, where the doctor will see you shortly.”

Jungkook aids you the best he can, helping you to and from the wheelchair as he can. He almost asks if you want him to come into the restroom with you, but you give him a quick shake of your head before closing the door on him.

What feels like an eternity later, you’re finally settled on a bed with Jungkook sitting in the chair beside it.

“Thank you for being here,” you say quietly, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “I know I said I wanted you to come back with me, and it’s not that I want you to leave, but please don’t feel obligated to stay. I know you have a lot of other things going on.”

Shifting his chair closer, Jungkook reaches for one of your hands. “Nonsense. I’m glad you called. I feel bad that I haven’t been to as many doctor’s appointments with you. I feel like it’s been a couple of weeks since I’ve even seen you. I wish our schedules worked out a little better. Perhaps, as my manager, there’s something you can do about that?” he asks, giving you a jesting wink.

“I was trying to give you more time to go to Jiyoon’s appointments!” you laugh, covering your mouth with your hand.

“I know, but in case you forgot, you’re also carrying my child. Don’t get me wrong, though, the texts are great, and I really appreciate the weekly baby bump pictures, but it’d be nice to actually see you. Though, maybe next time, let’s make it not where you’re laid up in a hospital bed, not yet, at least,” he adds on with a low laugh.

This is the first time Jungkook has seen your bump in person. The soft swell under your shirt calls to him, and he wonders if it would be okay to touch it. As if you’re reading his mind, you take the hand that’s wrapped around yours and press it gently over your stomach.

“Kinda weird, huh?”

“No. No, not weird at all,” Jungkook says, being completely raw and honest with you. Jiyoon is touchy about her belly, pun wholly not intended, seeing as she doesn’t let him touch her bump nearly as much as he’d like to. She’s only recently started to show, and it’s hitting her hard, with which Jungkook tries to empathize. He can’t imagine being pregnant and how much a body changes; he’d probably feel things like that, too.

He spends a moment absorbing the feel, trying to imagine the little life growing just a few inches below his hand. Life he helped create. He’s so in awe he could cry…if it wasn’t for the door opening and breaking the momentary spell over him.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Lee. I’ll be your attending today. I hear you slipped down the stairs today and are worried your foot might be broken?” The cheery, middle-aged woman chatters away, washing her hands and drying them off before offering one to you and then to Jungkook.

“Yeah. I missed the last step and landed on the side of my foot pretty hard.” You shake your head with a rueful smile. “I should have just waited for the elevator.”

“Oh, ouch. Let’s take a look,” Dr. Lee coos. “May I?” She gestures to the blanket covering your feet. Jungkook helped you remove your shoes once you were in bed and tossed the blanket over your feet so they wouldn’t get cold.

“Of course.”

Dr. Lee pulls back the blanket and gently probes at your foot, turning it slowly side to side to get a better look. “Does this hurt?” she asks as she rotates your ankle.

“A little, not as much as putting pressure on it, though.”

The doctor nods. “I think it might be best if we do an x-ray just to be sure it’s not broken.”

“Won’t that be harmful to the baby?” Jungkook asks.

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to protect your little one.” Jungkook nods his understanding. “Is it your first? You look a little green around the gills, first-time-father jitters.”

Jungkook isn’t entirely sure how to answer that. Because, technically…no? Considering Jiyoon is approximately two weeks further along than you are. Would that make her baby his first? A laugh, barely restrained, simmers deep in Jungkook’s chest.

“Something like that,” he finally says, earning another warm smile from the doctor.

“Alright, let’s get started so I can get you two out of here as soon as possible.”

The word ‘soon’ should be a relative term when it comes to hospitals—or a word that hospital staff is barred from using. Jungkook doesn’t mind spending the hours waiting with you. In fact, you’re pretty pleasant company. That’s not to say Jiyoon isn’t when Jungkook attends appointments with her; there’s just a different level of expectation, he thinks. He hopes this baby will have your patience and grace like that.

Jiyoon wants a quiet observer sitting in the corner, whereas you’re welcoming to his insights and curiosities. You haven’t hushed him a single time when he’s voiced a question of any of the medical staff. In fact, it almost seems like you welcome it, comfortable in letting him show his concern for you.

Thankfully, the x-ray showed no break or fracture. You’ve been given a temporary boot to wear for the next week and strict instructions not to overdo it. “Got it,” you say once the nurse has finished explaining everything to you.

“Now, before we discharge you, we would like to have a sonographer brought in to check on the baby. According to your charts and file, you’re at the twenty-week mark now.”

Jungkook stands up, panic worming its way in. “Should we be worried? Is everything okay?”

The nurse gives him a motherly smile. “That’s what we would like to check.” She turns her attention to you. “You didn’t fall on your belly, but with any trauma to the body, it never hurts just to be sure.”

Of course. That makes sense to Jungkook, but he looks to you for confirmation. “Yeah? You want to do that?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

Jungkook has only attended two live ultrasounds in all the doctor’s appointments he has been to. He has many printed ultrasound images that are now stuck to the refrigerator at home, one side for Jiyoon and the other for you. But he’s only managed to attend one for Jiyoon and one for you, so this will be a wonderful treat.

“Okay, they’ll be here in just a moment.”

A few moments pass after the nurse leaves the room, and Jungkook allows himself to truly assess his internal feelings. He’s thankful that you’re okay and will feel even more at ease once the ultrasound confirms the baby is alright, too. It’s wild for Jungkook to think that just a few months ago, his life felt like it was on the verge of falling apart. There was a steadily growing rift between him and Jiyoon, and you were just Jiyoon’s best friend.

Now, however, he feels closer than ever to his wife, and you’ve managed to carve out your own little pocket in his heart, too. It’s alarming, yet comforting, to realize that there is something more between you and him—a deepening connection that’s still delicate but growing more solid with each passing day.

“You feeling okay?” Your voice breaks through Jungkook’s reverie.

“Hm? Me? I’m great,” he assures, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. You’ve barely let his hand go the entire time, to which Jungkook won’t complain. “Does it hurt much?” Jungkook nods toward the end of the bed, where your feet are back under the blanket.

You shrug. “It’s not so bad while laying here.”

“Hi!” a bubbly voice calls from the door a second before a young blond woman wheels an imaging cart into the room. “Are we ready to get a look at your little one before you guys go home?”

“Yep.” You give Jungkook’s hand a light squeeze. “Excited?” you ask in a soft voice meant only for him.

“Very,” he tells you, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“Now, this won’t be nearly as good as if we were in radiology in an exam room, but all we really want is to get a look to make sure everything is okay. Besides, who doesn’t want to take a peek when you get the chance, right?”

The tech, with Jungkook’s assistance, helps you adjust on the bed until you’re in a comfortable position for the ultrasound. Jungkook feels frozen as you tug your blouse up and over your belly, giving him his first real glimpse of the swell in all its glory. It’s one thing to see it through your shirt, another thing entirely to see it like this.

“Cold,” you chuckle as the tech squeezes a glob of contact gel onto your lower belly.

“Sorry about that, these carts unfortunately don’t have the warmers on them. Ah, here we are,” she sing-songs when she smoothes the wand over the gel. “Look at that.”

Jungkook tears his eyes from your face, focusing his gaze on the imaging machine's display screen. His breath stutters in his lungs, and a wave of pure, unrestrained joy washes over him.

“They’re perfect,” he says, voice thick with emotion. Jungkook watches as an arm moves across the screen, followed by a little kicking foot.

“Seeing them never ceases to take my breath away.” You take the words right out of Jungkook’s mouth.

The tech hums, giving you a soft smile as she moves the wand around to different angles. “No gender yet?” she asks. “I’ll try to be careful here, don’t want to have any spoilers…unless you would like to know?”

It’s hard not to be curious. “Is it not too early to tell?” Jungkook asks.

Turning the screen slightly away from you and Jungkook, the tech says, “Um, nope. Not too early. Everything looks good, though. So, if you’d rather wait, we can get cleaned up and be done here.”

“What do you say?” Jungkook looks at you with a raised brow.

Your teeth leave a dent in your bottom lip as you worry it for a moment. Another thing he thinks would be cute to see his mini-me do. “I kind of want to, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admits, loving the fact that you do.

“Okay, wonderful. In that case,” the tech says before moving the screen back and adjusting the wand on your belly. “Take a look here.”

When Jungkook arrives home, the sun has long since gone down, but he’s so high on cloud nine that he can’t bring himself to care. The large smile on his face hasn’t slipped in the slightest.

Jungkook is certain nothing can bring him down. At least, that is, until he walks through the front door of his condo and straight into hell. Jiyoon is sitting at their dining table, her expression completely devoid of emotion.

“Hey, babe. What’s going on?” Jungkook hesitantly asks, eyes sweeping the open layout and taking note that the only light on is the recessed one directly over Jiyoon. His smile slowly fades, replaced with a crease between his brows.

“What’s going on?” she asks in a cold voice.

“Is everything okay?”

Jiyoon sniffs, her eyes narrowing, the first sign of emotion he’s seen since he walked in. “No. Everything is not okay.”

“O…kay,” Jungkook draws the word out, letting his mind flip through its internal catalog, trying to find pieces of the puzzle to put together.

“Where have you been?”

“There was an accident. Did you get the note from—”

“You’ve not answered any of my calls or texts.”

“I sent you a text before I left. I think I misplaced my phone, I can’t seem to find—”

“You missed my appointment!” she sneers, cutting him off once more. “And you did not text me. I haven’t heard from you since this morning.”

Realization hits, and the warmth drains from Jungkook’s face. He was so focused on everything with you, the panic and then the joy, that he completely spaced on everything else he should have done today. But also…

“I swear I texted you to let you know I was going to the hospital. I was going to make sure everything was okay.” As soon as your name falls from his lips Jiyoon shoves back from the table and rounds it, getting in his face. “She slipped at work and thought she might have broken her foot. Namjoon was supposed to give you a note about it since you were in a meeting. She called me. I was worried. I didn’t mean to miss your appointment. Were they able to determine the gender?”

Jiyoon jabs a finger in the center of his chest. “Not. Good. Enough. I’m your wife, not her! You’re supposed to be with me! Instead, you spend all your fucking time with your nose up her ass when you barely even know her!” Jungkook staggers back as her poke turns into a fully-palmed shove. “You’re un-fucking-believable! What a goddamn joke.”

“Jiyoon, that’s not fair. Something could have been wrong with the baby. It was an emergency,” Jungkook says, trying to make Jiyoon see reason.

It doesn’t work.

“Fuck you! Why do you care so fucking much about that stupid baby?! All you do is fawn over the photos and re-read her text updates! This,” she gestures wildly at her stomach, “is the baby you should care about! Yet you can’t even show up when it counts.”

“You can’t be serious. This is ridiculous.” Jungkook keeps his tone level, refusing to be baited into a knock-down-drag-out with her.

“No!” Jiyoon screams, making Jungkook flinch. “You are ridiculous.” Suddenly a menacing smile cuts across her face. “I bet you slept with her. Didn’t you? That’s it, you’re feeling possessive because you fucked my best friend, and that’s how she got knocked up, isn’t it?”

Jiyoon’s words spark a ringing in Jungkook’s ears. “What?” he whispers, the word barely forming.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Jungkook. I know you too well for that. Let’s not forget your little slip-up—” she throws up air quotes as she says that “—the night you supposedly did ICI.”

“I told you it was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it!”

Sarcasm is a heavy, bitter layer in Jiyoon’s reply, “You just so happened to touch her clit? Just a little oopsie, so innocent. You’re too nice to outright lie to me, so, of course, you come up with some half-truth, expecting me to believe that you didn’t want it, that you weren’t secretly gnawing at the opportunity to try and seduce my best friend!”

“That is not what happened at all!”

“So I’m supposed to believe my pathetically inexperienced best friend is the one that seduced you, then?”

“What? That’s not what I said at all. No one seduced anyone. You’re being fucking crazy right now. You know I’d never do that to y—”

The crack of Jiyoon’s palm against his jaw stuns him into silence. “Don’t you dare call me crazy!” she screams. “You’d never do that to me? Yeah, right. You’re a man, and that’s what men do! Heaven forbid a woman works hard and spends time away from the home, trying to provide for her family. Is that it? I’m gone too much for your sad little dick, so you have to chase after the first desperate pussy that comes your way?”

Jungkook presses his fingers over the searing heat licking up his jaw where her hand struck him. “Jiyoon, no, it’s not like that at all,” he says, losing his momentum because he’s not sure what he can say at this point to make her see reason. “I wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“Fucking my best friend because she’s convenient and out of spite for me being gone so much? No, that sounds exactly like something you would do. Well, looks like it’s your lucky day because two can play that game, asshole. Enjoy your fucking prize!”

Jungkook jerks back, as if Jiyoon just slapped him again. “What does that mean?”

She laughs, the sound deep and throaty. “This baby—” she seethes, rubbing over the small swell of her belly, voice rising with every word “—it’s not yours, you pathetic bastard!”

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to story masterlist  

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-04-25 ColorMePurplex2

[livinginshambles]

I'll reschedule | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Summary: James faces the consequences of his actions. A confrontation goes wrong and you have a chat with Sirius.

Notes: Thank you guys for your kind comments! I hope I tagged everyone that wanted to be tagged. Also the parent part is very self-indulgent lmao

Part one Masterlist

________________

James spent the following days trying to get your attention and receiving a taste of his own medicine.

You gave him another smile that didn’t fully reach your eyes and he cursed at himself for somehow having your relationship feel so distant and awkward. He was your boyfriend for Merlin’s sake!

“I can’t, I’m-“

“-sorry, yeah. I know.” James almost let out a pained laugh at the irony of the situation.

‘Oh how the tables have turned,’ James bitterly thought to himself in defeat. You leaned forward as if you were going to give him a kiss, his heart jumping at the thought.

He realised in horror that he couldn’t recall the last time he had given you a proper kiss on the lips and could do nothing but watch in disappointment as you changed your mind mid-step and left for whatever it was that you had planned, with nothing but a small wave.

James spent the next day in class stealing glances at you. You noticed it of course, but couldn’t bring yourself to look back, humiliation at his words still lingering in the back of your mind. ‘Why are feelings so complicated’, you groaned in dismay.

You sighed and buried your face in your hands, arms propped up by your elbow on your desk. You’d talk to him tomorrow. Tomorrow was the last day before Christmas holidays. If everything went south, you’d be able to escape for two weeks. Not that you needed that back up plan. Everything was going to be fine.

Everything was not fine.

“You were eavesdropping on us?!” James shouted out, an offended look on his face and his hands thrown in the air. You visible winced at his loud voice.

You couldn’t help but scoff at the fact that of all the things you said, what you finally confessed about your feelings, that that’s what he picked up on.

You stared at him in disbelief for a moment. Your mouth open while you tried to look for words.

“You’re really going to- you know what? Yes. And I’m sorry for eavesdropping alright? In fact, I too would’ve preferred not to have heard you guys say those horrible things, but I did hear it all, and you did say all that,” you shot back angrily.

“But if you wanted me to back off and be less of a clingy, high maintenance attention demanding loner, then maybe, just maybe,” you stressed the word maybe. “You could’ve pulled me aside and told me you were embarrassed of me in private, instead of telling all your friends except for me! That’s not how a relationship works, that’s cowardice.”

“Oh so you’re an expert on relationships now?” He scoffed. “How would you know how relationships are supposed to work, I’m the first bloody friend and boyfriend you’ve ever had! If not for me, you would have no one.” He spat out the last sentence and as soon as it left his mouth, he clamped his mouth shut and took two steps back in disbelief at his own words. Regret immediately setting in.

Your face was heating up, in embarrassment and anger. You took a few steps back in shock as well. You wanted to yell at him, tell him that you’d become friends with your potions partner recently, that he wouldn’t know that, because he’d been acting like an arse with his head stuck up in it, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to fight. You took a deep breath.

‘Count to ten, Y/N.’

James opened his mouth and closed it again, no words coming out, still shocked at himself. He felt like he was in a daze, that this was a bad dream.

The silence was too much, the tension too high. He half expected you to reach out and slap him across the face, but also knew you wouldn’t. So instead he stood there frozen, awaiting your reaction.

James could feel blood rushing in his ears before you finally broke the silence.

“That’s not how a relationship works for me,” you repeated calmly but firmly, completely disregarding his insult. This time however, you emphasized the last two added words.

James seemed to sober up alarmingly fast at that. He shot up in panic and shook his head in denial. “No, I didn’t mean that. I didn’t mean any of it! I’m not embarrassed of you, Darling. I’m not, I promise,” he tried, finally finding the words.

He looked at you pleadingly and watched helplessly as you pulled a hand through your hair in a distressed manner, jerking away from him when he reached out to you.

It was quiet again in the room. The only sounds your heavy breathing.

“It’s not working for me.” You eventually whispered, hurt evident in your voice at your sad realisation. You said it more to yourself than to him, but his ears caught it anyway.

James’ heart skipped in fear. The implication of your words were crystal clear to him. It smacked him in square the face and had him physically reel back. He stumbled back into the nearest wall. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you two breaking up was ever a possibility. You were madly in love with each other. And he loved you so incredibly much, you knew that, right? He felt nauseous.

You didn’t spare him another glance and stumbled away, desperate to get away from him. James’ knees buckled and he sunk to the floor, shock keeping the tears at bay for now.

Everything was really not fine.

“Prongs! Welcome back mate, I heard you’re a free man again!” Sirius greeted James with a cheer and a slap on the back when entered the common room. Sirius was wearing a big grin on his face.

James jerked away and furiously shook his head. “No, she- we haven’t broke up,” He insisted. “We had a fight b-but, we never officially said we were done, so we’re still- she’s still my girlfriend. So don’t say that, it's not true-“

Sirius noticed how distraught James actually was about the situation and the grin abruptly fell off his face, making space for concern. He put his hand on James shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. He threw a look at Peter and Remus who looked taken aback by his defensive tone, also looking concerned.

“Okay,” Sirius nodded. “She’s still your girl, Prongs. Understood.” James nodded back and then shook Sirius’ arm off his shoulder and went upstairs to their room, plopping down on his bed, smothering his head in his pillow where he could finally cry.

You took the train and left Hogwarts that very same day. You called your dad and he promised to come pick you up at the platform. When you saw him, the only one on the platform so late in the evening, you ran up to him and he held you tightly. “Come on, sweetheart,” he nodded in appreciation at the elf who brought your luggage and brought you home.

You sighed and plopped on your bed, face first into the mattress. Exhaustion downing on you all at once and you fell asleep within minutes.

Your mother knocked on the door, knowing that that sufficed as you were a light sleeper. “Honey?” She called. “I know it’s late, but I think you should eat something nonetheless.” You made a noise.

“That mean I can come in?”

You lift you head up so you could say yes and she came in with a bowl of soup. You gratefully accepted it and she took the liberty of sitting next to you.

“You want to tell me about it?”

“Not really,” you admitted and your mother gave you and understanding look. “Then we’ll keep you distracted for now. In fact, the day after tomorrow, your father and I are having dinner with the Black family. You could come with us.”

“But it’ll just be all business talk,” you groaned, placing your bowl of soup on your night stand.

“Yeah, well you know the Black family is the main investor in your father’s business, business talk is unavoidable. But you know what, it wouldn’t be just business. They said that they would love to meet you.”

‘Doubtful,’ you thought.

“I’ll think about it.” You replied.

“That’s okay, you have another day to consider it.” And with that, your mother kissed your forehead before leaving your room, taking the empty bowl with her. “Goodnight honey,” she said before closing the door gently. ‘Sirius was always spending his holidays at Hogwarts, so it’d be safe to go,’ you considered.

‘So the fates are really into proving me wrong, lately huh,” you thought to yourself as you spotted Sirius with a scowl on his face, standing with his parents in front of their manor to great you.

And so, before you know it, you were sitting at the end of the ridiculously long table, in front of Sirius. You wondered where his younger brother Regulus was. “Let the children sit together, business is boring to them anyways,” you father had said.

Though he hadn’t been wrong, you would pay to be part of the adult talks rather than sit here in awkward silence, avoiding Sirius’ eyes.

The past three days had been a rollercoaster for Sirius. First, he had been mildly annoyed at the letter that came with an owl that belonged to his mother. Then, he had been absolutely dreading going home. He also felt bad and concerned for James, because he was being a sad pile of bones. And when he saw you, surprise and guilt seeped in. A real rollercoaster.

Sirius kept staring intensely at you. Finally, you’ve had enough and you snapped at him. “What do you want.”

“I need to talk to you, privately.”

“Why would I talk with my ex's best friend?We have nothing to talk about, and I’d rather die than be in a room alone with an arsehole like you.”

“You’re not his ex.” He pointed out.

You raised your eyebrows at his words, inquiring him to explain himself.

“You’re not- You two are still together. I mean, you never officially said it was over. You’re still his girlfriend, he’s still your boyfriend. James is still holding on to that.” Sirius searched your face for reactions to that confession but found nothing.

“Fine, I guess I’ll just officially send him an owl then,” you replied dryly, done with his crap. You threw your napkin on the table and got up. You excused yourself, thanked Sirius’ mother for the food and walked out of the room. So much for this being a distraction from James.

“Wait, Y/N!” Sirius yelled out as he chased after you. You kept walking, neither slowing down, nor speeding up, as you walked in the direction of your house, despite knowing that it was an hour drive by car.

A heavy silence hung between you two as he walked next to you, both staring out in front of yourselves.

“It’s my fault.”

Now this made you look up at Sirius. You eyed him up and down sceptically, coming to a stop. “Don’t give yourself so much credit, Black. You’re definitely not my favourite person on this planet, but despite you talents at DADA, last I checked, you can’t cast the Imperio curse yet.” Sirius refrained from grinning at your retort.

“So unless you’re telling me that you’ve been using the polyjuice potion and posing as James Potter who has been a massive twat of a boyfriend for over a month, I highly doubt it’s your fault.” With that, you continued walking again.

“No, and no. You’re right, I guess.”

“I am.”

Sirius gave you a look and tried again. “Look, he was just all over you. And maybe I had to get used to Prongs being a taken guy, all mushy, but we all missed him. So I teased him a little,” he explained but hesitated at the end.

“You teased him a little,” you flatly repeated. “You teased him and it turned him into an asshole?”

“It was just a bunch of guys laughing about our whipped friend,” he paused. “Okay and some complaining,” he admitted. “I didn’t know he would straight up go to avoiding you because he was embarrassed to show affection in front of us though.”

You massaged your temples. “Okay first of all, you suck and you’re a shitty friend.” Sirius pulled a face. “Eh, deserved,” he scratched the back of his head.

“But my point still stands. James chose to lie to me by making up excuses to not have to be around me.” You huffed in frustration. “I’m not... I’ve never been in a relationship before, but I’m pretty sure that’s like, rule number one of things not to do.” You kicked against a pebble on the road.

“And then he goes and says horrible stuff about me behind my back. That’s probably rule number two,” you added, a frown on your face at the recollection of events.

“But if that wasn’t enough, he didn’t listen to me when I told him how I felt about it and instead yelled at me, trying to shift the blame on me, as if it’s my fault that I overheard you guys. Oh and also, he insulted me again! Though, in my face this time, I’ve got to give him that.” You mumbled the last part bitterly and looked back up at Sirius who awkwardly looked at his feet while listening to you rant.

“So no, Sirius. You were a shitty friend, but by no means the cause of our break up. That’s on James.”

“Please, you don’t understand,” Sirius pleaded again. “James is miserable alright? As in he’s kind of being pathetic right now, he refuses to believe you guys broke up. He keeps insisting that you’re still together, that he still has a chance to make up to you.”

It was your turn to look at your feet. Sirius continued. It was his turn to talk now and he felt he needed to help his friend. “He loves you so much. He really misses you.”

You wryly smiled at Sirius. “He tell you to say that?”

“No. Well, not explicitly.” Sirius patted his back pockets and fished a crumpled envelope out of it. He handed it over. When you opened it, you found a folded piece of paper that simply said ‘I am so sorry. I miss you and I love you so much.’ In James’ handwriting. You sighed.

“Look, I’m just trying to help my git of a friend who is madly, hopelessly in love with you. And I’m trying to make things right between you two because I am partially at fault. And I know you love him. He’s just being an big idiot.”

“Try ginormous.”

Sirius now openly grinned. Okay maybe you weren’t so bad after all.

“Will you please talk to him? I’m sure he will apologize because he regrets everything. I know he does. And if you decide you don’t want to be in a relationship anymore, you tell him. Just not by sending an owl right now before talking one more time, please.”

A car sounded its horns behind you and you turned around to see your mother and father. The car stopped next to you and the door opened. You turned to look at Sirius again. “Will you see James before I do?” You asked. Sirius nodded.

You handed him the envelope back. He hesitated to accept it. “Give him this. Don’t worry, I’m not breaking up with my boyfriend. I’ll talk to him at Hogwarts.” You reassured him.

Relieved at your words, Sirius took the envelope and you gave him a thumbs up. “You’re not so bad, Black,” you said as you got in the car.

“Back at you!” He called after you. He watched your car drive off.

He checked inside the envelope and found the folded piece of paper. When he unfolded it, he found a uno reverse card stuck in between.

James was nervous. He impatiently paced around on platform 9¾, having arrived there way too early. Sirius had moved in with him over the holidays, running away from home and had brought a certain envelope with him. James heart had leaped when he found your card, putting it carefully under his pillow at night, carrying it in his pocket during the day.

“Merlin, Prongs would you just stand still,” Sirius commented from where he sat, leaning against a wall, cigarette twirling between his fingers.

“I can’t, Padfoot. This is literally the moment that will define the rest of my life!” James exclaimed dramatically, but walked over to Sirius and plopped down next to him anyways, mimicking Sirius’ action by twirling the game card around.

“Mate, you’ll be fine. She literally let you know she loved you too.” He nodded at the object James’ hands.

“But what if she loves me, but realised that she wants to be with someone who hasn’t acted like a stupid idiot?” James’ heart was racing at the thought. He’d spent the entire first week wallowing misery.

Other students started to arrive at the platform and James got back up to start pacing around again.

You softly pushed him away and immediately, the stream of self-deprecating words, apologies and other rambles flowed out of James’ mouth. You pecked his lips again to shush him.

You spotted each other at the same time. You offered him a hesitant smile but it was enough for James to take off in a sprint towards you.

He stopped in in front of you, unsure and apologies ready on the tip of his tongue. Someone called your name behind you and you looked back to see Wylan.

Turning to face James again, you offered him a fond expression and tiptoed to press a peck to his lips. James immediately responded to the kiss and he sighed in relief, shoulders less tense.

“We’ll talk later, okay?”

No, not okay, he wanted to say but you cut him to it.

“I’ve got a friend waiting for me,” you beamed up at him in pride and he melted at the sight. “Okay,” he relented, making a mental note to tell Remus and Peter to apologize to you too.

“You’ll let me know when you have time?” He asked.

“I’ll make time for you,” you assured him. “We’ll talk after supper, if you don’t have any plans of course,” you teased.

James shook his head laughing. “I won’t,” He replied earnestly.

“You don’t know that! Like what if a famous Quidditch player wants to meet you after supper, huh? Then what?” You challenged him. He shrugged.

“I’ll reschedule.” He grinned.

You shake your head and leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek. He watched you head in the direction of your Ravenclaw friend who had his back turned to you and walked back to Sirius.

“Wylan!” You skipped over and slung an arm around him, ruffling his already messy hair. He looked up as if he’d been caught doing something wrong and relaxed with a smile when he saw it was just you. You laughed at his skittish behaviour. “So how was your holiday?”

“I actually got a book on alchemy for Christmas. I brought it with me, thought maybe you’d help me?” He asked nervously, a bit embarrassed at his request.

“Oh none of that,” you waved your hand at his antics. “I’ve been helping you with dyslexia for a while now, of course I’ll help!” He offered you a grateful smile.

“You have it with you now?”

Wylan nodded and pulled out a ridiculously heavy book. You whistled. “Better get started on that right away, huh. We should find a seat.”

You two moved to get on the Hogwarts Express, but before you disappeared inside, you looked back at James to see he did the same thing. You exchanged smiles, he dramatically made a deep bow and mouthed ‘milady’. Then he turned around and pumped his fist in the air, grinning from ear to ear.

Sirius patted James on the back when he returned. “See, nothing to worry about. Right back to snogging your girl,” he laughed out loud, but no malicious intent this time.

“Still a long way to go, though,” James admitted, but he wore a fond smile on his face at the thought of you, all giddy inside. “But we’ll be alright, I think. I’ll be the best bloody boyfriend out there you know. You better get used to the snogging. And be nice to her, she really means a lot to me.”

Sirius pushed him. “I’ll have you know that we’re on extremely good terms now,” he exaggerated.

James snorted. “No, you’re not,” he immediately said.

Sirius grinned, having fun riling him up. “Why don’t you go ask her yourself, if you don’t believe me.”

James and Sirius walked towards their own compartment where they waited for Peter and Remus, arguing about it.

About two months later, Gryffindor had won the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. You ran down the stands and up to James, jumping in his arms. He fiercely kissed you, his friends and teammates hollering at him.

“Good luck charm,” he cheekily mumbled against your lips while flipping the others off, earning laughter. When the celebratory party was finally over, and the marauders and you retreated to their dorm, James instantly pulled you onto his lap, locking you in with his arms wrapped around you so tightly that you wriggled to get some air. Jokingly, you tapped out three times in mock surrender.

“And the winner is...”, Sirius drumrolled. “James Potter!” Remus and Peter jokingly clapped and cheered.

“Means you can let her breathe now, Prongs.” You mouthed a thank you at Sirius.

James pouted, offended. “Since when are you two such good buddies,” He complained.

Sirius stuck his tongue out. “Wouldn’t you like to know, lover boy. I told you, Y/N and I are on extremely good terms now.” He winked at you.

“Thought you’d be more happy that your girlfriend and brother could get along. I mean, figured it won’t be long until she becomes my sister-in-law.”

@moonyslibrary98 @wildernessflora @fanboyluvr @spiderman-stilinski @magical-spit @livelaughlivedilfs @nyenye @fluffybunnyu @prongs-moon @xcinnamonmalfoyx @akila-twt @treestarrrrrrrr @mrsmaybank13 @ireallywannasleep127 @imarimon @targaryenmoony @jessicamellarky @scriptsofthorns @lynbubble @variant-lokitty @elsie-bells @chichi3095 @my-beloved-fandoms @quackitysdrugdealer @pleasingregulus @mindflay3r @littlenerdybee

[mercedista]

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐇, 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓⠀⠀⠀→⠀⠀⠀𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘:⠀A killer breaks into your room, except he doesn't kill you. Well, that's one of the pros of being his girlfriend, even if you don't know that behind the mask is your boyfriend.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒):⠀Porn with plot, horror, non-con, dub-con, mention of murder, threat, poor smut.

𝐀/𝐍: Part two.

Paradise. That's where he was, watching you tremble beneath him, crawling across the carpet in escape-no, in denial that you wouldn't be able to flee. His heart was pounding just as much as yours, that he could swear. Except his was beating out of pure excitement, while yours, certainly, was not for anything positive.

"Oh, princess..." He chuckled, watching your back finally press against the wall, leaving you nowhere to go. He crouched down, the tip of the knife tickling your cheek. He didn't plan to hurt you-not yet-but the threat still loomed.

It hadn't even been five minutes since he broke into your room, and you were already making him hard. He licked his lips, almost savoring your panic, and it was definitely a delight. Yes, he loved the pleasure of killing people, but seeing his little girlfriend scared? That was something else.

Unconsciously, lost in thought, he was caressing your lips with his thumb. You recoiled, almost feeling disgusted by his touch, which might have offended him a bit since that snapped him out of his daydream. It was a little habit he had with you, except from your perspective, it was a killer in front of you, not your lover, so your reaction was more than understandable.

The knife still against your skin, but with no pressure. "Kill me... what's wrong with you? Stop playing with me and just do what you came here to do already," you said.

He tilted his head to the side, an expression of disappointment hidden beneath the mask. He thought it was obvious he wasn't going to kill you. "Stop touching me!" you snarled. "I have a damn boyfriend."

Naïve of you to think that saying that would stop a killer. Though he did find your loyalty adorable, even in a situation like that.

You thought you were successfully distracting him long enough to call your boyfriend, since hiding your phone behind your back was easy with his contact on speed dial.

"Nuh uh," he said. "Not that, princess." He snatched the phone from your hands. Ghostface froze, the shock you displayed gave him an extra dose of dopamine. His eyes shifted from your hypnotizing look of horror to the screen. Not that he needed to read the contact to know who you were trying to call.

His own phone vibrating in his pocket made everything clear. He had a hard time holding back laughter when he realized he was receiving the call.

"He's not going to answer you, sweet thing." His voice came out taunting even with the voice modulator.

Your hand reached for his mask. If you were strong enough-which you certainly weren't-you could have easily torn it off. Noticing your fingers gripping the black fabric, Ghostface grabbed your wrist.

"He's stronger than you." Your voice came out in a near-tense whisper. "My boyfriend. Even if you kill me. He'll find you. He's smart and strong."

"Oh, is he going to kill me, princess?" Ghostface released your wrist and used his hand to squeeze your face, your lips forming a pout, and it took everything in you not to rip off his mask and kiss him. However, that feeling quickly faded when you kicked him between the legs.

Ghostface screamed in pain, his voice modifier barely able to mask his tone with how loud it was. It was your chance to escape, if it weren't for his free hand—the other one was comforting himself where he'd been hit—grabbing your ankle and causing you to fall hard. "You...!"

You struggled, but he easily pinned you to the ground, stomach down. For God's sake, he almost lost his mind; lucky for you, he wasn’t in the mood to stay single that night.

Even though it wasn't in his pre-defined plans—or even in his current ones—to kill you, he wasn’t going to let it slide. Yes, you were his girlfriend. Yes, you were terrified, and it was justifiable. And yes, he loved you. But every action has its consequence.

His gloved hand left his crotch and tangled in your hair, his fingers gripping tightly to stop any further rebellion from you. Not that there was much chance of that, given that his heavy body was pressing you firmly against the ground; now, there was no way out.

"Damn it, I was going to play nice, but you just had to pull something like that." The killer gave your hair a sharp tug, and then a small yelp escaped your lips as you received a smack on the butt. And hell, you didn’t know whether it was his strength or the leather glove, but one of them—or maybe both—made that cursed slap hurt.

You didn’t even know where his knife had gone with how fast things were happening, but from your point of view, it wouldn’t be long before he drove it into your stomach.

You felt his weight lift off your body, but there wasn’t much time to think about it, as Ghostface was already dragging you by the hair to the bed, where he sat down. He forced you to kneel, still holding onto your hair. For a moment, his fingers relaxed imperceptibly as you gazed at the empty black eyes of that mask with your adorable, tear-streaked face staring back at him.

[slut4thebroken]

Claiming Victory

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Scarecrow x vigilante!reader

Summary | An encounter with the infamous Scarecrow doesn’t go the way you expected.

Warnings | non con, smut, dry humping, degradation, rape threats (mentioned once), dacryphilia, fear toxin, groping, idk lol.

Words | 1.6 k

Notes | Lmaooo I almost didn’t think I was going to finish this by October 1st 🙈

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 1: dry humping

He stalked toward you slowly, savoring the sight of you screaming and staggering away from him, barely able to keep yourself on your feet. He ached to know what you were seeing, but just watching you like this was enough to satisfy him for now. When you tripped over your own feet and landed on your butt, he stopped and stared down at you through the mask, watching as you still tried to get away from him. Though now you were looking around yourself too, not just at him. With a sigh, he quickly walked forward, then nudged you onto your back with his foot and straddled your thighs, keeping you pinned in place. 

“It’s disappointing how easily you break.” He said calmly. You didn’t respond, as he expected, but when your screams turned into violent sobs, he sighed again. “I thought you’d have more fight in you.” His hand shot out to grab your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. He smiled when you brought your hands up to claw at his arm, trying to pull it away. 

“Should I see what the rest of this pretty face looks like?” He smirked, using his other hand to trace over the edge of your mask near your temple. Leaning down over you, he watched as you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hide from whatever beautiful horrors you were being forced to see. But that only seemed to make things worse. Your crying intensified, echoing throughout the empty building, and you started writhing, trying to find an escape. 

When your hips bucked, he had to move his hand from your mask to the floor to stabilize himself. He let out a sharp breath as he remained leaning over you, the position making it easier for you to rub against his growing bulge. 

Tears streamed down your face and you started mumbling incoherent pleas. His hand moved from your face to your neck and he squeezed tightly— based on your reaction, his toxin must have made this action seem far worse than it actually was. 

He tilted his head as he watched you with morbid fascination. You looked so beautiful like this. 

Your hands started clawing at his face now, trying to push him away or hurt him enough to make him get off of you, but he just huffed and put both of your arms by your sides, under his legs. He leaned back over you and started subtly rocking his hips. 

“Isn’t it so much better when you don’t fight?” He cooed, his voice sounding far from comforting. “Always trying to be so strong… so brave.” He hummed thoughtfully as he placed a firm hand on your waist. 

“You think you’re untouchable, that no one could ever possibly beat you…” Slowly dragging his hand up your side, he watched your reaction carefully and continued, “Yet here you are... wearing this skin tight suit,” his hand finally reached your breast and he squeezed roughly, making you cry harder, “pinned down by little ol’ me… and not untouchable at all.” He smirked, groping you even harder as his hips sped up. 

“How about we see what we’re working with?” He asked rhetorically. You barely reacted when he grabbed the zipper at the base of your neck, slowly pulling it down to your navel. “Oh wow…” He grinned, pushing your suit open to expose your bra. “Let's get this out of the way though.” Grabbing the middle of your bra, he tore it in half easily, then pushed it open so he was finally able to see you. He couldn’t help the low groan that slipped out. 

“Look at you.” He cooed, placing his hands on your stomach and snaking them up until he could grab your tits. You sobbed louder, but your voice was becoming hoarse from all of the screaming and crying. “Do all of the villains you fight get to pin you down and grope you? Or am I just special.” He chuckled, knowing it was the latter. 

You started thrashing under him again, trying to escape him or whatever you were seeing. He removed his hands and smirked when he watched the way your tits moved. 

“You can fight a little harder… Come on.” He encouraged teasingly. When your body kept writhing and your hips kept bucking, he cursed under his breath, savoring the feeling of you rubbing against his bulge. “That’s it. Fight a little harder and maybe you’ll actually do some damage.” He laughed quietly. 

After another moment, he reached for your tits again, but focused on your nipples this time. You cried loudly when he pinched and pulled, rolling them between his fingers in a way that wouldn’t feel good even if his toxin wasn’t in your system. Based on your screams, he knew he was doing a good job, but you were starting to get just a little too loud for his liking. 

He paused and leaned back up, then quickly removed his tie. Your cry was cut off by him shoving the fabric in your mouth, effectively muffling your sounds. He didn’t bother tying it around your head since you weren’t cognizant enough to even realize what was actually happening. 

“That’s a good girl. Keep crying for me, but stay nice and quiet.” He cooed as he leaned back over you again, hovering a few inches above your face. His hips started rocking again, but his movements were faster and more eager. Moving his hands back to your tits, he resumed groping you, making you whine. 

“You like this, don’t you?” He chuckled, carefully studying your expression. “Finally getting put in your place… being humped and groped on the floor, the way a little whore deserves.” All you could do was cry— your body was barely even struggling underneath him now, just squirming weakly. 

“You know, I think I deserve a reward for being the first villain to actually vanquish you.” He said with a cruel smirk, reaching for your mask again. You didn’t even react when he slowly removed it from your face. “Oh, look at you…” He cooed, studying your face intently. He already knew you were beautiful, but seeing your entire face… it was even better than he thought. His gaze shifted between your eyes and your lips hungrily, getting worked up by the feeling of you squirming under him and the sound of your pitiful sobs. Then he shifted his focus down to your neck. At the sight of your smooth skin, completely untouched and untainted… he growled low in his throat and quickly removed his mask. 

“I think I’ll leave you with some reminders of what happened tonight...” He said, sounding almost smug, then leaned down to start kissing your neck. His hips were still rutting incessantly and he savored your muffled whimpers and cries as he sucked the skin into his mouth, leaving as many marks as he could. 

His cock was practically throbbing in his pants by now, begging to be released, but he kept his focus on you. He trailed kisses down your chest, still covering your pretty skin with evidence of his assault, then took your nipple in his mouth. You let out a muffled sob that turned into a scream when he suddenly bit down on the hardened bud. He chuckled softly against you and kissed his way across your chest to give your other nipple the same treatment. 

Your thrashing had died down significantly, as had your sounds. Now you were mostly just sobbing weakly and the sound was enough to send him barrelling toward his orgasm. He moved up so his lips brushed your ear, his hips still humping you frantically. “Next time I’m going to fuck you.” He whispered, moaning quietly at the thought. “Sorry… rape you.” He chuckled, not really knowing or caring if you were able to hear his promise with his toxin still in your system.

Jonathan leaned back so he was hovering over your face and took a moment to admire you. There was a light sheen of sweat on your forehead, your brows were scrunched together and your eyes squeezed tight. The tear tracks covering your cheeks were what finally sent him over the edge. 

Feeling his balls tighten up, he quickly lifted himself back up to open his pants and take out his cock. He shuffled forward over your body a little and stroked his length rapidly, then hot come was landing on your chest, covering your tits and even getting on your suit. He yanked his tie out of your mouth and moved up a little more to get the last few ropes of come on your face. 

With a satisfied grunt, he sat back on your stomach and caught his breath, listening to your hoarse, broken sobs as you thrashed under him, probably having a hard time breathing under his weight. He sighed and reached for your neck, squeezing as hard as he could while pushing on your windpipe. Your mouth opened and you were gasping for air, desperately trying to take in oxygen as your thrashing increased tenfold until finally it all stopped and you went limp beneath him. 

While you were knocked out, he tucked his cock back in his pants, then put his mask back on and pocketed his tie that was slightly damp with your saliva. He left your suit unzipped and your mask on the ground, satisfied that you’d know, or at least have an idea of exactly what he did. Then he got up and walked out, leaving you in the abandoned warehouse. 

He considered taking you, after all, he deserved a trophy for being the first villain to ever conquer you… But the chase was the best part, so he let you continue to roam free for now, building up anticipation for the next time you’d encounter him. 

[sincerelymina]

be my angel

content: re4r leon x female reader. domestic fluff. making out. established relationship. angst elements. author's note: inspired by the mazzy star song! the lack of leon kennedy fluff is concerning. also first time posting on tumblr yay.

₊⊹⁀➴ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55001149

if it weren't for you, leon probably would've lost his mind a long time ago. you were so sweet, so gentle, so understanding—he sometimes questioned if he even deserved someone as unscathed as yourself. it was comforting dating a regular civilian, someone who wasn't exposed to the daily nightmares he faced in his line of work. being so blissfully ignorant to the horrors of the world was a luxury he no longer afforded, never did. 

leon hated the sad look that'd cross your perfect features as he left for one of his gruesome missions, that last goodbye kiss that had him tightly gripping the steering wheel as he pulled out of the driveway, the asphalt crackling beneath the tires. the fact that he couldn't tell you much about said missions, given their classified nature, only made him more upset—it felt like wordlessly forsaking you for one-to-two weeks at a time.

oh, but the sweet expression you'd have on your face as you twisted the metal doorknob, the way it lightened up at the mere sight of him. it had leon's chest tightening and breath hitching, wanting nothing more than to pull you into a long, hard kiss. you had him acting a fool, needless to say. 

tonight was a little different, though. the digital clock on the dashboard read 12:47 am, causing leon to scoff lightly under his breath. he disliked coming home late, knowing most likely that you were probably up, huddled on the couch with thick blankets wrapped around you, wishing it was his arms keeping you warm instead. 

leon's gaze then drifted back up towards the heavy rain thrashing vehemently against the ground, the deafening silence disrupted by the droplets pattering against the window and the swiping of the windshield wipers doing their job, giving him a clear view of the road ahead. he was still a good twenty minutes away from home, and that fact alone makes him press his foot against the gas a little harder, damning any traffic laws at the moment. 

though, crashing the car in an attempt to see you sooner was a bit counterintuitive—and he'd be seeing god, if anyone.

once leon finally pulled up to the quaint little townhouse the two of you owned together, he parked the car, pulling the keys out of the ignition and shoving them into the pocket of his black cargo pants. with a soft sigh, he quietly shut the car door, and walked up the steps to the front door. the rain had calmed down a bit, simply drizzling now. 

knock, knock, knock . his fisted hand gently rapped against the door a few times, but to leon's dismay, he still hadn't heard your footsteps leading up to him. it then hit him that it was one in the morning, and it was more than likely that you'd fallen asleep—possibly from staying up for him. a frown creased onto his lips, upset with himself for coming back so late. even if it wasn't his fault, he still felt guilty. despite how much you reassured him, leon always thought you could a whole lot better than him.

reluctantly, leon pulled his set of house keys out of his pocket, and slid the metal through the lock, opening the door with a click . inside was dark, quiet…yet peaceful. as he padded across the area, the floorboards lightly creaking beneath his feet, he took notice of how clean it was; someone had used their time wisely, he thought with a smile. well, either that, or you had just gotten so bored out of your mind waiting for him. he was well aware of how antsy you'd get on the days you knew he was coming back.

leon was also now aware of how disappointed you probably were now, seeing as he came back far later than anticipated. 

that's when his eyes land upon you, snoring away softly on the sofa, and—just like he imagined—curled up beneath a warm, knitted blanket. the open tv cast a soft glow across the tidy living room, alongside a few warm-scented candles you had lit. that, alongside the rhythmic thrumming of the rain against the windowpane, made for a very cozy atmosphere. leon took careful steps towards the couch, kneeling down in front of you. 

"i'm sorry, angel," leon mumbled, his voice soft as to not wake you up. he brushed a few stray strands of hair behind your ear, the contrasting feeling of his calloused fingers against your soft skin roused you a bit, causing you to stir in place. leon chuckled at your tired grumbles, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead. 

the kiss is what fully wakes you up, instantly jolting upwards, sitting yourself upright. the blanket rustles around you as your sleepy eyes widen, registering the fact that your boyfriend—that you hadn't seen in two weeks—was right in front of you, giving you the softest smile. "leon?" you muttered, still in disbelief.

"go back to sleep baby, we can talk in the morning," he said, peppering gentle kisses across your face. your skin burns beneath his lips, any feelings of exhaustion slowly slipping away. if leon really wanted you to go back to sleep, he damn well knew better than to act all sappy like this.

"no, no, no," you quickly—and incoherently—mumbled, blinking a few times to adjust your eyesight, "it's okay, i'm not sleepy. i was waiting on you anyway," that's when you started to excitedly ramble, "i just…forget about me, what kept you so long?" you raised a curious eyebrow. "something bad happened?"

"nah," leon shook his head, still smiling—god, it felt so good seeing you after so long. "writing up that report took a little longer than anticipated. i'm really sorry, pretty." his smile then shifted into a frown, a soft sigh escaping from the depth of his lungs. "so sorry," he whispered as he kissed your lips for a quick second. 

the look of pure anguish contorted on his sharp features sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. despite how tired you were, seeing leon look so upset over the fact that he couldn't see you sooner made your mind dizzy with love. 

"that's okay. it happens. i understand." you replied honestly. you were aware of leon's job before getting wrapped up in a relationship with him. and you also knew just how much this man loved you, even if he couldn't see how amazing he was. flaws were human, you'd tell him. people tended to forget that—leon might be a zombie-killing machine, but deep down, he was only a man. one with feelings and emotions. 

dating leon made you feel like such a special girl. he was a closed-off, reserved man. just one quick look at him and you could tell that he most definitely could kill a man with his bare hands alone—if he wanted to, that is. he was cold, intimidating, and brutal on the field. but you didn't see that side of him. 

no, you saw a total sweetheart. in your presence, leon was a complete softie. it was actually quite adorable seeing him sleepily pouring himself a cup of coffee at the crack of dawn, dressed only in loose pajama pants, his chiseled abs put on display just for you . his blonde hair framed his face so perfectly, the soft strands falling in front of his face. despite being a total fucking unit, having biceps nearly bigger than your face, he was so gentle with you, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. 

at least, he tried to be, but sometimes he got a little… carried away .

you were the person who got to see him leaning over the bathroom sink, holding a razor to the lower half of his face, shaving away the light stubble that had formed after neglecting the duty for a few days simply because he got too lazy. you saw him narrowing his eyes at the god awful instruction booklet that came with ikea furniture as he attempted assembling a new bookcase. you loved the way he would sometimes squint while looking at something afar, then claiming he "didn't need glasses" when you pointed it out. 

it was so raw, so real. 

leon just sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, "you do realize you are too sweet for your own good sometimes, right? you should be upset i was late, i promised i'd be home for dinner." he chuckled dryly, climbing onto the sofa and taking a seat right next to you, sitting above the comforter. 

"i dunno what i'd do without you," his gaze was trained on you, admiring how pretty you were in this state—with messy hair, half-lidded eyes, and puffy cheeks. "i love you so much." would it be too awkward to mention that he'd marry you in a heartbeat at this time of night? probably.

you can only laugh in response, trying to downplay how much his words were affecting you. "you're so corny. i love you too, lee." yeah, if he was so corny, then why was your heart beating of your chest?

leon was being dead serious, even if his execution made it seem like he was just playing around. you were his light in the darkness, his sole comfort amidst his disastrous life.

he slid his brown leather jacket off, letting it fall to the ground. your eyes fall to his arms and how yummy they look in his compression shirt. would it be weird to say you just wanted to take a bite out of them sometimes? lovingly, of course. "i missed you," leon mumbled, his own voice taking on a sleepy lilt. 

"me too." you shook your way out from beneath the thick blanket, scooting closer to your precious boyfriend. you cradle his cheeks with your hands, smiling as you stared into his icy blues. his eyes really were to die for, you could just get lost in them sometimes. he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. you go in for a kiss, soft lips meshing with his chapped ones. 

the action elicits a soft, content sigh from leon, his big hands running up and down your back above your thin tank top as the two of you stayed like that for a few moments, lips moving against one another languidly. your chest presses up against his, sending a pleasant rush through leon's veins. when you two pull away for air, a bit breathless and frazzled, you can only marvel at the sight of him before you.

his lips were parted, taking slow and deliberate breaths, his pale cheeks now a little rosy, and his tired eyes now glazed with lust, drunk on your lips alone. you chuckle softly, your hands still cradling his cheeks as you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. he kisses the tip of it, allowing you to slid it between his lips for a split second. it's so awfully intimate, causing waves of satisfaction to wash over leon. 

that's when you plunge right back in, this time your tongue slipping past his lips, interlocking with his. he moans so softly, his hands roughly gripping your hips, drawing out a sigh of your own. leon mutters hoarsely, "you're too good for me, sweetheart. way too good. what did i do to deserve you?" he's still so in disbelief that a precious thing like yourself is all his .

this causes you to part again, a slight look of confusion crossing your features. "are you serious, leon? what didn't you do?" you shake your head, sighing. "you're way too hard on yourself, baby. i swear, i've never had a man that's as perfect as you before, regardless of what you might think. you deserve this. you deserve everything after what you've been through." 

you loop your arms around him tightly, hugging him as your bury your face in his chest. your thumb traces little circles on his back, as you whisper, "don't ever think you aren't enough." that was a little something you'd picked up on in the three years you'd been dating leon. he was very unsure of himself. he didn't deem himself worthy of love, no less the amount you poured out for him.

"i love you, in all your blonde glory," you chuckled, not wanting to sound too deep, even if your words carried an incredibly heavy weight.

leon couldn't help but feel a swell of emotions all at once, instinctively holding you even tighter, pulling you close and never wanting to let go of you. not even for a single second. "you're so corny," he mocked, letting out a light laugh as he pressed a kiss on top of your head. god, you fit him just like a puzzle piece.

"it's all your fault, asshole. you started it." you grin, lifting your head up from his chest, and leaning into kiss his perfect lips again. 

"hmm," leon mumbled, a low chuckle erupting from his throat, "guess that's too bad, then." 

finally, after kissing him for a good several minutes, taking labored breaths through your nose, you pulled apart, a thin trail of your mixed saliva following suit, now dripping down your chin. you chuckled, wiping it away with the back of your hand. your hips shift a bit suggestively as you climb off of his lap, causing leon to inhale sharply. 

"you need a shower. i'm going to bed." is what you say with a snicker as you turn on your heel, padding across the wooden floors to your shared bedroom. leon just scoffs, and shakes his head, watching as you stumble away from him.

"that's not fair." he grumbled to himself, his hands falling to his thighs.

he did tell you to go back to sleep earlier, though. damn it. 

[ashtheketchum]

How would the Sawyer family react to their first kiss? (+ Thomas Hewitt)

A/N: I thought for a long time about whether I really wanted to start something with the horror fandom here and I've decided to do it! I'm a huge Texas Chainsaw Massacre fan and accordingly I'm going to write something about these characters. This is my first time writing for the Sawyers and Thomas, so please show mercy!

Warnings: GN.Reader, mention of s(c)ex, mention of cannibalism, I use they/them pronouns for Bubba

Characters: Bubba Sawyer, Drayton Sawyer, Chop Top Sawyer, Nubbins Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt

______________________________

Bubba Sawyer:

They would squeal loudly and mumble something that you can't understand

They never thought that someone as adorable as you would ever kiss them!

They would also be so happy that they would hug you and spin around on the spot

If your ribs aren't broken from the hug, they wouldn't let go until you couldn't breathe anymore

Then they would apologize with loud whimpers and squeaking noises

If the brothers found out, they would be a little shy before admitting it

They would make fun of it in their own way, but you didn't mind

But they themself would never kiss you on the mouth afterwards, but on the cheek or forehead

They just feel too insecure to kiss you on the mouth without really knowing that you want it too (But oh boy, you want it)

But you also respect that they doesn't want to step out of their comfort zone

Drayton Sawyer:

This poor old man would say insults under his breath

Don't expect too much of a reaction from him, he doesn't believe much in love and (as he would spell it) scex

But he's an old fashion man that means he would also give you a peck back (But only if his brothers aren´t around-)

But nothing more

"Why would you kiss an old man like me now?" would be a question he would ask you, but he still has a slight grin on his lips

Sometimes he also teases you that these lips recently ate a human

If his brothers found out about this, he would beat them with his broom

Bubba would just shyly turn away and cover their eyes, so Drayton only insults them

Don't you dare kiss him in front of his family! He doesn't like to do it, but if you provoke him, he'll use the broom on you too!

With him, there would only be small pecks, don't expect more from him

Chop Top Sawyer:

He would jump around happily and scream loudly

"I just got a kiss! I just got a kiss!"

Then he would ask you for a kiss again

And then again

And then again-

His brothers wouldn't even have to find out, he would tell his brothers himself

When Drayton acts disgusted or disappointed, Chop Top just teases him about being jealous

When you're alone, you always listen to music together and while listening to the music, you would kiss over and over again

Chop Top says that you should time your kisses to the beat

After your first kiss, there would be no more "normal" kisses, only passionate kisses

Nubbins Sawyer:

He would be similar to his twin brother

After your first kiss, which was just a small kiss, you wouldn't kiss normally anymore

Sometimes he would take pictures of him kissing your cheek or gently biting you (aka. His way of kissing you)

I can really imagine that sometimes he would just gently bite you instead of kissing you

"B-b-but this is m-my way t-t-o kiss you, y-y-y/n!"

You accept it as long as he doesn't bite you hard

The pictures he takes he would hang on your wall or try to sell to some victims

Just like his twin brother, Nubbins would just tell everyone (Even the victims-)

He would be like: "Y-y-y-you know…! I-i just ha-ad my first k-kiss!"

He might be a little too proud of it, but give him this moment

Thomas Hewitt:

At first he would be completely overwhelmed

For a whole minute he would just stare at you and not move at all before he would flinch and shake his head slightly

Although you could hardly see it through his mask, he would turn completely red

After that he would gently stroke your cheek and grunt quietly

Luda May would just smile lovingly at you two and murmur quietly how proud she was of her son

Hoyt would just gag quietly before sending Thomas back to the basement to continue working on the ,,dinner"

Thomas would only kiss you in the basement or when Hoyt wasn´t near you two

When you go to sleep, you sometimes kiss more passionately, but only when you go to sleep

You would play with his long hair while he would stroke your back

Before he goes out to hunt the victims, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips

[aajjks]

Destroyer (m)

Synopsis: you better start to love him before he destroys you and himself.

warnings: yándèrè, kïdnáppèd rèádèr, dárk contènt, câptívè rèádèr, obsèssíón, ünhëälthy bêhávïöür, dárk côntènt, ünstáble jk.

note: just a small little something, shouto’s ver. SHARE FEEDBACK AND TALK TO HIM. ENJOYYYY!!!!

“Jungkook… I hate you so much, I can’t even begin to describe how much I fucking despise your guts!” You scream at the top of your lungs, but your voice only comes back to you with the sound of echoing in the basement, Jungkook watched you with his calculated gaze. His lips were pressed in a thin straight line, you stared back at him with hatred filled eyes. A flash of longing and disappointment shined in his brown coloured eyes, but only for a second.

“Fuck you! Fuck you! I hate you!” You spat again, anger was coursing through your veins. He didn’t care, did he? Your skin was itching with irritation, it didn’t bug him. He was really insufferable. But you wanted to hurt him, in the worst ways possible.

But, To your disappointment, He only looked down.

“I know.” After what felt like an hour, he finally replied. Your eyebrows farrowed, what did he mean? “What?!?” You were now, genuinely confused. His tone was void of any emotion. It was cold, just like him. “I know, y/n.” He looked up from the concrete floor to you. His feet were starting to walk ahead in your direction, where you were held captive by the steel chains. “You never fail to express it. I-I know..” His eyes were glossy, his lips upturned, almost in a pout. If you didn’t know the real him, his tone would’ve made your heart shake.

But you knew damn well than to pity a monster like him.

“Oh that’s good! Kook, then… tell me..” you gave him a faux smile in return, taking in a deep breath. “Why don’t you fucking let me go?”

Your eyes never left his face. He was now close than ever, your faces were only inches apart, he could grab your face easily in his hands. You hated the way he looked at you, like you were his world. “Because I can’t. I can’t let you go, y/n.” His eyes were swimming in obsession, “I love you- AND I FUCKING HATE YOU!?!” It was infuriating.

This was starting to get frustrating, more than before. It had been months. Months without any human contact expect him, who claimed to be your lover. You only saw his face.

“I don’t care. I never cared. I love you and I only care about that. I don’t care if you hate or want to fucking kill me. I can even die for you.” Jungkook only dismissed your confession. His eyes had been covered with a dark shadow, his jaw was clenched, his tone was deadly. “Don’t you get it, sweetheart? I love you.” He chuckled at your disgusted expression.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to love me. My love for you is enough for both of us. I love you so fucking much, ever since I saw you, I have loved you ever since.” He whispered in a low husky tone.

He seemed to have completely change in a span of fifty seconds. It was scary. “I love you so much, like a fucking madman. I’m starting to go insane.” He gritted his teeth. His intense gaze sent shivers down your spine, his eyes were filled with craze, passion. “You’ll learn to love me, baby. Yes, you have to. You have to love me.” His fingers grabbed your face, gently but tightly. You only stared back in horror. His tone was dripping with craziness.

“You have to love me, sweetheart because now, my patience in running thin. I was never really a patient person y’know? But I have waited so fuckin’ long for you to finally become mine. Only mine,

So love me now, before I fuckin lose it and destroy both you and myself.”

[the-newlymadeweeb]

I Gotcha.

Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo!reader

Description: three times you promised Luke that you got him. The two times he struggled to believe and finally when he did.

A/N: the gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

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

The days spent at camp immediately after his failed quest were arguably the worst of Luke's entire life.

He had to drag himself back home with a burnt chunk of an apple, a dragon tooth and half his face destroyed.

You had nursed him back to health. Spending three days straight in the infirmary. The solo quest was a bad idea and you had known it. Luke had gone alone in some sort of attempt to prove himself, seeking glory but now this entire thing had backfired and you couldn't help but worry.

When he awoke he had stared in mute horror at the mirror you held up to his face.

"I tried to minimise the scarring as much as I could, Luke. I couldn't remove it entirely but with the correct balm and scar creams it'll fade," you had explained.

Luke knew you were the best the camp infirmary had but he couldn't explain the rage that boiled within him. This fruitless quest, with its dumb replication to Heracles' and his quest all for the sake of earning his father's attention had permanently marred him.

Physical proof of his father's neglect right there for everyone to witness.

And he would have to carry this stupid scar for the rest of his life.

"Luke?"

His gaze snapped to meet yours, softening slightly, as you placed the mirror facedown on his bedside table.

"Yeah?"

He didn't want to see sympathy in your eyes, no doubt too many campers will be looking upon him like he was a pitiful kicked dog, nor did he want to see disappointment; he wasn't quite sure how he'd stomach that.

But your face held neither of those emotions, instead a strong conviction resided in the lines of your face, lines that you were too young to have, that marked the effects of stress no adolescent should feel.

"I'm gonna take care of you Luke, okay?" You reached out and cupped his uninjured cheek, "I gotcha. I always gotcha."

And wasn't that something.

He reached out cupping your face in his hands, this was his whole world.

"Okay baby; yeah, please."

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

Luke had miscalculated. He'd failed to retain the master bolt and the helm of darkness.

Now, he was being punished. Severely. And he hated it but he deserved it. He'd let Kronos down, he needed to learn his lesson so he never makes the same mistake.

The nightmares cut too much into reality though sometimes. His entire body lit aflame but it always got so much worse when he was forced to face a scenario where he had to cut you up so that your pieces would replace the Titan.

He never failed this test, but it always took the most out of him. Even if you always understood his anger, he wasn't sure you'd understand his methods; and at the crack of every dawn, he'd escape his cabin and run to the lake where he knew you'd always be. Like clockwork, watching the sun rise.

This time his skin buzzed with the phantom recollection of his nightmares, he had to scrub at his eyes to clear his vision a few times, mistaking the blood on his hands to be real in his fatigued state.

You sat on the deck, eyes fixed on the changing colours of the sky. He could hear your voice humming a soft nameless tune. This was your ritual, your futile attempts at interactions with your father as he burst across the heavenly dome on his sun chariot.

Nonetheless, Luke always enjoyed the sound of your voice. He'd appreciate it if Apollo never would.

You'd sense his presence as you always did in the early hours and you'd beckon him towards you.

Sitting by your side felt right, amidst all the tension he'd been under. The weight of all his plans. Your song was familiar, the heat and strength of your figure a comfort.

"Nightmares again?" You asked, knowing the answer regardless.

He'd nod.

There were a few truths he was allowed to tell you. Sometimes if he said it with enough of himself, he could fool himself to believe that all you knew weren't mainly lies.

"Come here."

And you'd guide his head to you lap, gentle– loving, like the first rays of the sun. You would card your fingers through his curls, and every now and then lightly ghost your fingertips over the scar on his face.

On occasion, Luke would dream that you were healing him, erasing his scars, erasing his pains.

"I gotcha Luke," you'd murmur, "I always gotcha."

Some mornings he'd fall into a dreamless sleep.

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

"I gotcha baby," oh he's missed that voice, "I always gotcha, Luke." It's been too long. Days, weeks, months. Years.

You were crying.

Percy and Annabeth were crying too but–

You're crying.

Don't cry.

He's really tired, and it's getting difficult to take a breath. He figures this is the feeling of death and he's trying to not be afraid.

You reach for him, and he forces himself to open his eyes and look at you.

It's not so bad. Your face has always been what he'd like to see last. It's just–

There's so much to say. So many things he has to tell you, to apologise for, to confess, to love and there's no time.

You're so beautiful.

Even covered in soot and monster dust and blood.

Your hands cup his face, fingers instinctively brushing his brows and scar. You keep mumbling small comforts, little assurances. But you don't promise life, because that wouldn't be true and while Luke has been a deceitful liar, you have never been one yourself and you won't lie to him even now.

But you promise that you got him. And he believes you.

"I know baby," He huffs and tries to say, "but now...it's time– time to let me go."

It's a struggle. His vision is blurry, he's really tired.

So he focuses on the feel of you instead, letting his eyes close. This is just like falling asleep.

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

[milliesfishes]

Hi, lovie! I’ve been so obsessed with your blog and the way you write Coryo 🤌 I was wondering if I could request like an arranged marriage trope with Coryo and reader where their in an arranged marriage and Coryo is kind of stoic and hasn’t shown any particular interest in his wife but at a gala someone tries to flirt with her and gets touchy with her and Coryo is like “get your hands off my wife” and it ends with Coryo confessing that he’s actually fallen for his wife :3 you don’t have to write it if seems too much! But keep up your good work 💕❤️

thank you bb!! <3

𝜗𝜚𐙚coriolanus sees someone flirting with his wife𝜗𝜚 ࣪𐙚 fem reader x coriolanus snow

Every day Coriolanus laid his eyes upon you was another day you were forced to count yourself as lucky.

Though you wore his ring on your finger, he was your ghost, barely occupying the corners of your life. You felt like a shadow in the halls of his mansion, a fixture no better than the paintings on the walls.

It was lonely there, stuck like a jewel in his crown, arm decor only useful for appearances. The worst part was almost that nothing was truly wrong. You were fed and dressed well, your cage gilded. It wasn't a house of horrors; it was a house of honors. You were perched at the highest position in the land, the queen to his king, the flower to his thorn.

So it made you feel all the more guilty when you had even a single thought of complaint.

The truth was, even though you were practically sold into marriage, you had hoped for a better outcome. In your childhood you'd dreamt of a tall, handsome man to sweep you off your feet and kiss you senseless. Instead you got a man who, while tall and handsome, barely bid you goodnight as he shut the door to his separate bedroom.

More hurtful then all the rest of it was how much you'd wanted to know him. You could see there was a truth of him underneath the shell he hid himself in. For months now you'd attempted to engage him in conversation as you sat with him at dinner, or passed him in the hallway. On good days you'd receive a response and a smile. On bad days a simple, "Pardon me, darling. Busy day."

Now as you were sitting at your vanity, supposedly getting ready for a gala, all you could see in your reflection was disappointment. The gown you wore was beautiful, your hair perfect. All in all, you would say you looked pretty. But what was the use if he didn't care?

All your life you'd been prepared to cater to a husband but Coriolanus didn't allow himself to be catered to. He was stoic and unmoving, a rock in the sea of the Capitol.

Your heels clicked on the marble floor as you headed downstairs, only half smiling when he obligatorily told you how beautiful you were. Of course he was perfect, in a red suit that matched your dress to a T. It was infuriating how perfect you looked together.

Before you could turn and head to the car, he stopped you, taking your wrist. Of course. You'd forgotten. He pulled a white rose from nowhere, snapping the stem and tucking it into your hair. The one fastened to his suit jacket was the same hue. Infuriating.

Entering the gala, you plastered on a bright smile, greeting all those who approached you with sweet words. It was a part you played, and you did it well, clinging to your husband's arm and pressing a dutiful kiss to his cheek, trying not to seem so eager to touch him. He smiled at the gesture and for a brief moment you could have sworn there was a flicker of something real in his gaze.

Separating, the two of you made your rounds individually, playing ambassador to all you met. It was your position as First Lady to make him look good. A woman's touch did wonders in politics.

It had hurt you the first few times this happened, as you were dismayed that he wanted to spend more of the party without you than with. Even now after you should have been used to it, your heart gave a little pang as he separated from you.

Finishing speaking with the wife of a senator, you took in a breath, going to find champagne. It was that hour of the night when Coriolanus would expect you back at his side, and you needed a drink before donning the mask again.

Before you could take a flute off a nearby waiter's tray, however, a man's arm grasped your elbow. You turned your head to see the husband of the woman with whom you'd just been conversing, a prominent senator who happened to work closer with Coriolanus than most.

Giving him a polite smile, you greeted him. "Good evening."

"You look ravishing tonight," he said in an inappropriate tone, not shy about looking your body fully up and down.

"Thank...you..." you said hesitantly, unsure if that had really even happened. When your brain caught up, you stood up straighter. "Excuse me."

"Come on, can'tcha have a little fun?" he slurred, and you could smell the alcohol on his breath. "There's hardly anyone around."

It was true, the two of you were backed into a little corner and nobody seemed to be watching. You drew back form the senator, trying to pull your arm away. "I really must be going-"

"You bitch," he spat, wrenching you closer. "Askin' for it...in that tight dress...I could just..." his free hand reached around and he pinched your ass, making you gasp-

"Hands off my wife senator."

Both your heads turned to see Coriolanus standing there, arms folded, figure imposing. A wave of relief crashed over you, and you pulled yourself free, finally, heart racing. The moment played in your head over and over, and your chest heaved, your soul spiraling for comfort.

Without thinking, you ran to your husband, your only lifeline, arms coming around his middle, face buried into his shoulder. Expecting him to push you away, you were shocked when his arms slid around you, hand holding the back of your head. Your senses were muffled, and you felt a vibration in his chest as he spoke, numb to make out the words.

Before you knew it, you were swept away, coming to in the hallway outside the party. He held you to him until you started to draw back, but even then he kept his arms loosely twined around you.

In a low voice, he questioned, "Are you alright, darling?"

You breathed in softly, finally somewhat back to normal. "Yes."

"That...bastard," he bit, turning his head to look at the door. Sounds of the party slipped past the lightened crack and echoed in the hallway. "Who does he think he is, putting his hands on you like that?"

"I was scared," you murmured, instantly regretting it. You'd never shown even a modicum of emotion around him other than a picture of the contented wife.

Coriolanus surprised you once more, pulling you back into his arms and burying a kiss in your hair and your heart fluttered. "Of course you were, darling. I'm so sorry." He smoothed your hair, hand lingering there. "I'll keep a closer eye on you from now on. And he'll be taken care of, naturally."

You ignored the purposeful ambiguity of the last statement, instead focusing on the first. "You...care?"

He chuckled lightly, adjusting the rose in your hair. "Of course. You're my wife. Besides that, you're a sweetheart. I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't care."

Now you were confused. "But..." you inhaled softly, the vulnerability of the situation seeming to open you up. "You never speak to me. Or acknowledge me except for..." you gestured vaguely to the party still roaring on inside.

Coriolanus' expression grew solemn. He nodded once. "I apologize for that."

You could only breathe a single word, chin tilted up to look at him. "Why?"

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. His icy blue eyes seemed to have melted into pools of ambiguity. You had nearly given up on understanding him, your expression growing somber, when something seemed to soften in him.

He inhaled and exhaled softly, seemingly studying your face. "I...the first time I met you. You remember, of course?"

Nodding, you waited for him to go on. Coriolanus thumbed your cheek softly. "You were...beautiful. And sweet. And charming and everything I had wanted in a partner. But..."

"But what?" you asked, unable to help the panic seeping into your voice.

There was a beat of silence. And then he breathed. "You were perfect. And I knew I wasn't."

The only sounds now were coming from the party. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears. President Coriolanus Snow, the most powerful man in the country, was scared he wasn't good enough for you?"

Slightly shaking your head, you whispered, "That's why you've kept your distance?"

"You...captivated me. From our first meeting," he said quietly, and you felt out of sorts watching him confess. Caressing your cheek, he asked, "Why else would I give you my roses to wear?"

Automatically your hand reached up to touch the pale flower, realization dawning over you. He hadn't been trying to be cruel. Not at all.

"I've done things that nobody should ever do," he said firmly, a stark contrast to the gentle way he touched your cheek. "But you...you sway the complete opposite direction from all of it. I told myself I would not let it ruin you."

"Coriolanus," you sighed softly, leaning back into him. Your arms found their way around him again. "Oh..." Looking up at him still nestled in his arms, you whispered, "I don't care about what you've done. All I ever wanted was to fall in love with you."

It was almost like he didn't believe it was real. There was a beat and then he was holding you tightly to him, a fierce but gentle determination in his touch. Your heart warmed and your mind eased. You were getting a real husband after all.

"My sweetheart," he murmured, leaning in and nudging his nose to yours. "You can have whatever you want, you know that?"

You reached up to kiss him in response, and he returned the favor, lips moving like they were starving, like they'd been yearning for a taste of you since creation. His kiss was possessive, and you didn't mind one bit.

The rose in your hair began to slip and he caught it, smoothing the stem back into your hair as he slotted his lips over yours.

Finally, he had swept you off your feet.

[julesinsummer]

like a moth to a flame - theodore nott

theodore nott x fem!reader | angst | in which theodore is everything he wishes he wasn't and wants the one thing he knows he cannot have

cold. subdued. emotionless. complex.

theodore was nothing if he was not written off as a loner, a nobody in a crowd of dazzling faces. he didn't amaze crowds with his beauty, or even particularly stand out among the people he'd been raised with.

theodore was nothing if he was not a disappointment to his father.

nott sr. was an impatient man, insolent and violent at times. he was fiercely loyal to his master, his lord above all else. when his master ordered his wife, a bride taken from another land to wed at an age far too apart from his to die, he did it. he did it without hesitation, without mercy, and without the thought of doing it away from his young son's eyes.

theodore was nothing after he watched his father brutally slaughter his mother in their drawing room. he was ten at the time.

it was that moment, he thinks, that he became who he was.

cold. subdued. emotionless. complex.

nott sr. ensured no emotion was shown from his boy. his heir, his only living relation, and his only chance at continuing the hate he'd been bred to feel.

it was in his bones, that hate. and it simmered and boiled over when he realized that hate did not grow in his young son's.

theodore was born to be sensitive. he was born to be an academic, with a wit like no other and a knack for knowing just what to do. he was born to be a good person, a person with solid morals and a fond eye for adventure.

but he never could be any of those things, could he? voldemort didn't like academics. he didn't like people who were smarter, witter, and brighter than him. he didn't like restless children who always wanted to know more.

and true to his nature, nott sr. began to hate everything that theodore truly was. he was determined to kill it and burn it to the ground, determined to shape him into a near mirror image of himself.

and once he was beaten down enough, mentally and physically, theodore began to relent. his father wanted cold, subdued, emotionless, and complex.

theodore became all he was meant to be in his father's eyes.

hogwarts became his only reprieve from the monstrous horrors that awaited him at nott manor. he felt comfort in the cold, stone walls of the slytherin dungeon. he would sit and watch the black lake on occasion, lounging lazily in an armchair moved to the precise position to catch the best view.

he felt a deep connection to the feelings of the giant squid that inhabited the lake. he too was trapped in a body of water, unable to move very far or do very much without being watched or being scrutinized. he felt that they were very alike.

sometimes his friends would join him to watch the window. draco took the most interest of all of them, much preferring theo's company to anyone else's. he'd known him since his birth, after all. they were as good as brothers, if you'd believe it.

theo was quiet while draco was loud. theo was meticulous and analytical while draco felt and felt and felt some more. they balanced and complimented each other nearly perfectly.

draco often wished he could save theo one day. save him from his father, from the life he'd been forced into. it was impossible of course, with nott sr. and lucius malfoy being brothers in a purely fraternal organization with the same goal in mind.

theo was grateful for draco's constant presence. he appreciated his thoughts and how he was comfortable just existing alongside theo.

draco began being interested in girls around fourth year. he could have any girl he fancied. he was an attractive boy, with sharp features and piercing grey eyes. theo wished many times he could understand what it was like to like someone, anyone, in a way more than just friendship.

it was hard for theo to even maintain his friendships most times. he was often afraid that his father would use them as leverage against him, or even worse, that the dark lord would make a point to have them killed in front of his eyes.

it was the yule ball that gave theodore even more reason to be terrified. even more reason to be a cold, subdued, emotionless, complex human.

he wore his finest, sent over from italy at the request of his father. he knew he was a handsome boy and knew why girls wanted him to be their date. he also knew why he couldn't and why he wouldn't let himself feel anything other than apathy towards them.

at least, he did. until he saw her.

she was dressed in the finest gown he'd ever seen, silk and shining under the enchanted lights in the great hall. her hair was styled perfectly, shaping her face in a way that had to be considered art. her makeup was complimentary to her face, not cakey and overdone like pansy's, or little to nothing like astoria's.

she was perfection personified, and he didn't even know her name.

"what are you looking at, mate?" draco asked with a slight laugh, trying to trace the line of sight theodore had locked onto.

"she's beautiful," theo breathed out timidly, his brain nothing but static as he stared at her. she gracefully spoke to her friends, a glass of punch in her hand as if she'd been raised to be the center of society.

draco eyed her meticulously, studying the human figure theodore was so entranced by. "y/n?"

theo looked at draco, shrugging, suddenly missing the sight that he'd been so focused on moments before.

"she's quite beautiful," draco agreed, sipping from the glass in his hand. he tipped it towards her direction, "a pureblood, too, i assume. she's too graceful to not have practiced this."

theo once again turned his attention to her figure. he was completely and utterly entranced by her, a feeling like none he'd ever felt before at the sight of a stranger. she turned around at that moment, her eyes sweeping the great hall before landing on his. she studied him for a moment, a small smile on her lips. she gave a polite and small wave of her fingers in his direction, her eyes never leaving his.

"oh god," theo breathed out, feeling as though all the air from his lungs had disappeared. she turned back around to her friends, seemingly laughing and joking around.

draco chuckled, putting a hand on theo's shoulder. "she didn't come with a date," he informed him, "so the option is there for you."

theo shook his head rapidly. "you know why i can't do that."

"i know," draco conceded, his expression falling as the weight of theodore's position settled in his heart.

theo spent the rest of the night sneaking subtle stares her way, eyeing her as she danced happily and laughed with her friends. he felt pangs of jealousy strike his chest when other boys asked her to dance. at the same time, he felt immensely relieved when she turned them all down.

it was the best night he'd ever had, in his mind.

it was fifth year before he saw her again. this time he spotted her in arithmancy sitting at the table beside his own. she sat with astoria and daphne, a slytherin green tie adorned around her neck. theodore wondered how he'd never seen her before the ball or after.

maybe it was better that way. if he didn't see anything he wanted, he could still be cold and subdued and emotionless and complex.

he was lost in thought during the lesson, his mind everywhere but in the classroom when he caught her looking at him. he locked eyes with her in an instant, almost out of instinct.

her eyes could draw him in and push him out like the tides, he thought. he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

she looked away as professor vector gazed upon the class once more. theodore felt the loss.

it went on like that for a few more weeks, with her catching his eyes during class, staring at each other with more intensity than theodore ever thought possible, and then turning away before they were caught. theodore didn't like it one bit.

he wanted more. he needed more.

he was like a moth to a flame just from her glances, wanting so badly to be close to her, to be close to something he could not have.

it was near all hallow's eve when he heard her speak for the first time.

she walked up to him in the library where he sat alone in a corner that was so unused that dust and cobwebs had taken over all flat surfaces and corners. he felt safe there, away from the rest of humanity. from the rest of his life.

"i like your eyes," she said to him, quietly but with a strength and fierceness that could not be more evident. she stood lengths away from him, her arms crossed lazily over her chest and her head cocked to the side. her hair fell around her face perfectly, enhancing the already ethereal beauty she contained in her body.

theo stared at her for a few moments, probably more than he should've. he considered going mute at that moment and saving him the trouble of what even speaking to her would start.

"i like yours, too," he finally told her, quiet and low as his tone usually was. he was a monotonous creature, something he was reminded of daily.

she smiled and theo felt his world crumble around him. he was falling down a pit he'd sworn never to fall down, the one that showed who he really was. the pit full of sensitivity, feeling, and everything he truly was made to be. the pit reminded him of his mother and all the ways she'd imprinted her very soul upon his.

she nodded and pushed her hair away from her eyes where it had fallen. she stood silent for a moment after that. when she did speak, theo knew it was full of quiet contemplation and consideration.

"i don't think you are who you try to be," she stated with finality. "and i would like to get to know the real you. not the cold and closed off bullshit persona you put on."

theodore nott was nothing if he wasn't acting. but in that moment, all of her words struck him in his proverbial achilles heel. in that moment, theo didn't feel like a failure. he didn't feel like a disgrace or a disappointment to his father. he didn't feel like the theodore nott he'd played for so long.

he felt seen.

theo took many deep breaths before he answered. he figured at that moment that y/n could be the most patient person he'd ever encountered. she held his eyes with a ferocity that would rival even the most courageous of lions and a determination that put all snakes to shame.

"you don't want that responsibility," he finally spoke, his words full of emotions he couldn't quite name, but ones he felt in the very depths of his soul. his hands had begun to shake.

y/n sat next to him in a dusty, ancient armchair. "i don't shy away from a challenge," she laughed timidly, "and i find that i'm drawn to you like a moth to a flame."

"moths will die if they touch the flame," he responded immediately, his face devoid of any named emotion.

y/n chuckled and touched theo's hand gently. "only if they're stupid enough to run into it."

theodore only bared his very soul to one person in his life. y/n was true to her word and refused to back down from his challenge. eventually, she was rewarded with theodore nott. he was sensitive and an academic, a witty, bright, intelligent boy who felt everything and loved fiercely and without a second thought. he was adventurous and fun and y/n loved him with a determination that was almost impossible.

theodore nott was once again cold, subdued, emotionless, and complex after the battle of hogwarts. his side had lost and the mark he'd taken on his left forearm to appease his father and protect the love he wanted and needed forever was fading.

he vowed to be everything his father wanted him to be after the battle. after he'd seen his only remaining family slaughtered at what he thought to be his safe haven. after he saw her, beautifully effervescent and ethereal, laid on the ground in a way that was so poetically tragic.

she'd died at the hands of his father and quickly thereafter, nott sr. was dead at the hands of his own son.

it wasn't long after the battle that theodore himself lost himself completely.

draco had found him, cold and lifeless in nott manor with only the bottles of firewhisky around him to blame.

draco knew in his heart that he could never have saved theodore from the end he was sure to meet. it didn't make it any easier.

-

this is my first piece of writing on here and i hope you enjoy it! i swear i can write happier things, but this has been on my mind for a while so i decided to get it out!

reblogs and notes very much appreciated!!!

[rodolfoparras]

But like instead of sugar daddy Price how about sugar baby Price.

Thinking about Sugar Baby!Price

Pairing: John Price x Male Reader

Cw: power dynamic, sugar daddy/ sugar baby dynamic, age gap,

Thinking about Sugar baby! Price who signed up to a sugar baby/ daddy website in an attempt to earn some money on the side but because of his age he only gets a handful of matches and those that he gets never lead to dates.

But one day, after going without a match for a good couple of weeks, he gets matched with someone.

At first Price is confused because in his preferences he clearly states that he would rather be matched with a woman but on his screen there’s a picture of you, a man, who looks to be much younger than he is. By looking further into your profile, he sees that you’re a successful businessman, who’s looking for a date to attend with you to events and he can also see you’ve got no gender preference.

So it couldn’t have been a mistake right?

But Price is still hesitant because he’s never been on a date with a man and he’s heard his fair share of horror stories of sugar daddies from the women that frequented the same site, but money is money and Price finds himself accepting the offer.

However as he drives over to the restaurant he can’t keep doubts from creeping into his head, wondering if there’s a slight chance that you’re expecting a woman on this date.

But all doubts disappear when he walks through the door only to be met with the sight of your smiling face as you go to pull out a chair for him.

So far you seem polite, charming even and you look really handsome. Price might have only dated women before but he can admit when a man looks good. However looks can be deceiving and behind that exterior there might be someone that’s expecting more of him, something more like sex.

Just hearing the word echoing in his head has his throat drying up as he fiddles with the napkin in his hand. “I’d like to make one thing clear, I’m perfectly okay with dates but anything past that-“

He’s abruptly cut off by you, a chore of no’s escaping your lips as you frantically wave your hands in the air.

“Oh no no no I don’t do that I don’t sleep with uh my clients”

Oh, okay. Good.

“I didn’t think-“ he shakes his head, looking down at the table, feeling his neck, ears and cheeks burn.

“Don’t get me wrong,sir-“

“John” the older man corrects, looking up at you beneath long black lashes and you feel heat creep up your own neck, ears and cheek.

“Don’t get me wrong John, you’re very attractive,” you say with a soft smile still displayed on your face, but the only thing he can focus on is your words.

Attractive .

Attractive ?

You found him attractive.

“But I’m just looking for a date to attend with me to different type of events,”

Price who’s still lost in the thought that you find him attractive only nods his head and the two of you proceed to order dinner.

The date goes exceptionally well. For whatever reason you seem more interested in hearing him talk about himself rather than talking about yourself.

Although it may sound wrong in someone’s ear, he can’t help but love how much attention you’re paying to him.

You even drive him home instead of asking your Chauffeur to do so and you don’t leave until he’s safe inside his house.

When he goes inside he almost feels like a teenager, face flushed hair mussed, hands jittery and you haven’t even done anything!

And when he gets a text asking for another date he happily agrees to it.

Date after date and you continue to stick to your words, never initiating anything that might make him uncomfortable but for whatever reason Price is unable to shake the feeling of disappointment that starts to grow inside of him.

The doubts that have made home in his mind start telling him that maybe you don’t even find him attractive.

Price isn’t stupid he knows he isn’t young anymore, that he isn’t the most desirable bachelor in the world but that doesn’t mean that it hurts any less knowing that you don’t find him attractive.

However things take a turn one day, when the two of you are trying out suits that he can wear for an event.

As he stands there in the changing room, looking at his reflection in the mirror, he can’t help but feel a surge of confidence running through his body.

For the first time in a while he feels attractive. You’d gone out of your way to get a tailored suit for him even though he’d vehemently denied it, fearing it’d be too expensive and that he had a perfectly fine suit somewhere buried inside of his closet.

But now that he’s looking at himself he can’t help but feel immensely thankful for your kind gesture because the suit hugs his curves so well, the rich black color compliments his skin tone beautifully, and there’s even a pop of blue in his pockets and buttons that match the color of his eyes.

Prior to this you even made sure he got a haircut and trimmed his mutton chops.

“I have to admit, I’ll miss these curls” you say while running a hand through his sandy brown hair, and once again he feels heat creep up his cheeks neck and ears “But Marisa knows what she’s doing”

And he couldn’t agree more, whilst looking at himself in the mirror, hair much shorter now and slicked back, with facial hair trimmed and showing off the sharpness of his features.

When he walks out to show you the outfit, he hears a small gasp escape your lips while your eyes trail down his body.

Once again he can feel heat creeping up on him but he also feels a surge of confidence- a sense of power for having affected you in this way.

You finally manage to pull your eyes away from him, awkwardly clearing your throat as you go to speak “you look good John, really good” you say the second part quieter.

He manages to respond with a smooth thank you, tone sounding like the one he only ever used to charm his late wife, even biting back a smirk while saying that.

On the night of the event the two of you almost seem to be glued to each other. You don’t do anything to overstep boundaries but he can see the way your gaze is trained on him, the way you keep almost a possessive hand on his hip and the compliments that just keep rolling off your tongue while chatting with him.

When the night nears to an end and you’re walking him to his door he can’t help but get lost in his thoughts, in the feeling of you arm slung over his shoulder the smell of your cologne and the compliments that never seem to stop rolling off your tongue.

It all ends with him uttering the words “would you like to come in?” you freeze in your step and fall silent for a moment before finding your words again “Are you sure we don’t have to-

“I want to” he croaks out, throat suddenly feeling dry “I really really want to”

[confused-wanderer]

I know we all talk about Jason finding out Dick killed the Joker from Tim or one of the other batfam members, but what if:

One day he’s searching for blackmail material on a member just for fun and knows Damian keeps a list of all of them so he backs into the files and realised the folder with the heaviest inscription to unlock is one labelled “Contingencies”.

He opens it to find every single person in their family is on there and starts surfing through them. When he sees Tim’s he freezes, mentally filing away some horrific details for checking up on him later, Jason’s list is impressive but not much he didn’t expect…still concerned how he got the evidence though.

His fingers hesitate over Batman’s, and after thinking screw it what the hell clicks on it just to realise most of them are psychological, and had to do with Jason. One video showed Bruce as Jason remembered him from his robin days. He was pacing furiously in the Manor, tugging on his pocket square which for him was a high level of distress, before he went upstairs - to Jason’s room when he stayed there - and looked in. The change was sudden, Bruce’s shoulders sagged and his face grew into one of fondness, one he’d rarely seen before.

“I cant help it Alfred.. Scarecrow’s toxin.. I KNOW it isn’t real but.. I can’t stop thinking about it. What if -“ and Jason can’t really believe his ears, that was a fucking quiver in his voice- “What if one day it comes true?” “What was your worst fear Master Bruce?”.

“Jason..” and Jason flinches. “I.. I saw him die, and I was powerless. I cant lose him Alfred. I just cant.”

The recording ends, and it takes a while for Jason to realise he can’t breathe. He sends the file to himself and laughs bitterly, remembering what the fear toxin had shown him. Lucifer. It had shown him falling from Bruce’s grace, being his greatest disappointment. “Guess we both failed each other didnt we old man?”

After what feels like forever, when he can feel his fingers stop shaking his eyes drift over to Dicks.

Damian sure does adore him, wonder what the brats got in store for him.

Most of them were things he was sure Dick could handle, until a glitched file appeared which read “for EXTREME situations only.”

When he heard Joker laugh, Jason could’ve sworn he was in the cave. “Hello there old friend! Aww why the long face?”

Dick wasn’t facing the camera, but the sheer aura of destruction radiating off of him was enough for Jason to know Joker was in danger. Judging by his outfit and well- hair- this must’ve been years ago.

“Didn’t you like my..ah.. gift? It was quite the blast I hear!”

Dicks fists clenched. His usual smile was gone, replaced by a hatred so vile it could’ve rivalled batman’s glare. It was so odd.. seeing him so pissed.

“Well that’s what happens.. when birds get hit. They never see what’s right in front of them and then BAM!”

As his laughter rang out Jason heard Dick whisper something. It was so soft, quieter than he’d ever heard him and he found himself leaning forward.

“What’s that? How long he lasted? Well I counted everytime he screamed when I broke his bones so-“

“SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP!”

Jason stumbled back, nearly falling to the floor himself. Dicks voice was thundering, echoing across the cave.

What the hell had happened? Why was Dick so mad? Why wasn’t he smiling?

“You..killed him.”

And that’s when it hit Jason. Oh. This was after he’d died.

The joker was trying to say something, but Jason couldn’t hear him. All he could focus on was how Dick was behaving, how he was walking upto Joker. Jason had seen that before.

The intent to kill.

SLAM

The fight was brutal, and blood flew everywhere, mixed with the laughter and cries of the Joker while Dick yelled, YELLED so loudly he could’ve sworn the cave was shaking before the sound of a wet snap ricocheted and Dick went limp.

No.. no no no no.

He watched in horror as Dick stood up, drenched in blood and heaving. Dick had gone- no BEATEN- the joker for Jason.

But the longer he looked, the more he felt the Lazarus pit burning inside him.

The joker wasn’t moving.

Dick walked away, and in the shadows, with bloody fists and face of hatred could not see him as the Dick he knew.

“Dead.”

He looked up to hear Dick whisper to the thundering sky outside.

“I killed him Jason. The joker is dead. Rest in peace little wing.”

Jason’s feet gave out under him, and he crashed to the ground gasping for breath.

Never in his wildest dreams had he thought he had been avenged.

Never did he even think that Dick had only killed once… and only for him.

Part two of related series where Jason finds out Bruce nearly killed the Joker:

[zillatastic]

rapper! ony x singer! reader

summary: good girl gone bad ; you just can’t get enough of rapper ! ony who has made a name for himself for participating in a plethora of (usually) one-sided rap beefs, being a creative lyricist/producer, & being such a bad influence to your heart.

(I suck at summarizing ಥ_ಥ̥)

this post contains: head-cannons, cursing, n-word usage, smidge of smut, spelling errors, lowercase grammar, semi-toxic ! ony or wtv, crybaby ! reader, vague description of reader’s body, lowk clickbaited summary, not proofread.

▬▬ rapper! ony who “accidentally” leaks a snippet of his new song with your moans as the intro melody.

much to your horror the audio blows up on tiktok and now every time you open the app, that accursed audio plays.

the worst thing about it is that every time you bring up the audio to ony and question how it even got leaked in the first place, you’re met with a..

“mmcht, ma, for the last time I don’t know how it got leaked. connie’s dumb ass must have did something stupid and posted the wrong shit.”

or a..

“fatbutt, I don’t know why you complaining. you sound sexy as fuck and the fans wanna hear more of the track once i release it. you don’t wanna disappoint our fans, right ma?”

“n-no, I don’t wanna disappoint them but I just don’t feel comfortable with it. maybe you can call connie one more time and try to get it taken care of ?”

“ight.”

it never gets taken care of, in fact three weeks later ony drops the song with eren as featured artist which doubles the song’s popularity and makes it on the billboard hot 100.

“whose pussy is this, ma ? ~ mhm tell me ?” ony asks while delivering slow harsh strokes into your trembling body. your hair wrapped tightly in his hands as it helps aid his assault into your weeping cunt while his free hand is gripping your midsection equally as tight.

“f-fucknmhm, it’s yours pa,” ony’s abusive thrusts to your pussy force your words to ball up in the back of your throat as you try to concentrate on listening to his commands and hold the phone recording the intimate moment.

watching the phone slowly start to slip through your half- boneless hands, it urged him to re-wrap your hair (tightly) into his hands and harshly lift your body onto his chest while continuing his now- upward thrusts into your cunt. the new angle allowed a deeper reach into your cervix as ony heartlessly knocked into it. “say it louder for the camera baby. whose owns this pussy ?”

“ony does, ony owns my pussy. fuck~ please pa I’m so close.”

“good girl, ma. you so pretty when you cry. now cum for me.” ony commands as he watches your body tremble in pure overstimulation and pleasure. biting his lip as he gently wipes the tears from out the corner your eyes and leans down to kiss your cheek.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who can sense when someone is making his girl laugh.

“ony what is your opinion on the Kendrick vs Drake beef?” a reporter asked while shoving her mic into his face.

ony who was tired of being asked this question sighed and tried his best to formulate a sentence that would not offend either rapper.

“well you know I be-” he stops mid sentence to turn around before hearing the soft chuckle of his girlfriend from across the garden of the regal event.

the reporter who was standing there unanswered lifted a brow and tried to gain ony’s attention back on the question for it’s live broadcasted audience.

“umm, ony ?” the reporter asked until she heard a feminine chuckle from the other side of her. the reporter and the cameraman turned swiftly to what caught ony’s eye to see you laughing hysterically at something thee Brent Faiyaz said.

“I’ll be back.” ony mumbled.

(damn.. someone stole my bitch.)

▬▬ rapper ! ony who promotes your music to his hardcore fan base.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who cannot keep his hands off your body.

he is stuck to you like white on rice.

you physically cannot escape this man because his strong arms are always securely wrapped around your waist, neck or arm.

ony isn’t a controlling person, but he is very clingy. he likes to feel the presence of his girl around him and having a body part of his connect to yours-

It sedates him.

cheesy? I know.. but he’s your man, so you’ll deal with it.

▬▬ rapper ! ony whose mean mug is nasty.

he does not play when it comes to people besides him being handsy with you.

ony’s sideeye has become a stan twitter icon.

in the earlier stages of your blooming relationship ony did not want to come off as too overbearing (he is) and let a lot of of his boundaries be overstepped. he never wanted to cause a big scene, so he always used his face to project his emotions instead of his words and fist.

a particular event where you had been pulled to the side to be interviewed had blown up all over social media because of ony deviously standing in the back- mugging the fuck out of the reporter whose hands were on the small of your back.

retweets of the incident had you delighted while ony was rather annoyed.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who dedicates an entire album to you.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who corrects your behavior.

ony has eyes all over. never forget that.

you two had gotten into an argument the day before over something small. at this point you had already forgotten what you two were arguing about, but the impact of the altercation was still there.

you despised when ony bested you in an argument and in retaliation you decided to attend a not-so little house party that ony advised you not to attend.

so what did you do?

you went to the party.

that night you’d tell ony that it was all sasha’s fault, but this was a conscious choice made by yourself.

that night you were spent bent over ony’s leg being spanked till tears then finger fucked.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who can’t stop talking about you during interviews.

▬▬ rapper ! ony who verbally dragged another artist who decided it would be cute to throw shade at your new single.

“ony, delete the tweet.” with your hands on your hips you let out a deep sigh. you two have been bickering back and forth all evening about the tweet-simply because you didn’t care what someone with barely 500k streams had to say.

“no, she’s gonna learn to pick her battles wisely today, ma.”

“oh my fucking god onyankopon put the phone down.”

(end of rapper! ony x singer! reader headcannons pt. 1)

author note: thank you so much for reading and noting. I have not written in years (2019-22) and I wanted to jump back into something new. usually I would’ve written a 10k fanfic on naruto but I’ve been tuning into a lot of aot/jjk content and I’ve decided this is my new era of writing. I cannot wait to find my own comfort and flow with this new fandom !!