#I would be on my knees if that ever happened

[arlertwhore]

pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: you try to breakup with paige, but she apologizes the right way.

warning (s): smut, strap, nasty makeout sesh, desperate p (on my knees for her yo), body licking, nipple sucking, ab riding, strap riding, overstim, hairpulling. think it’s all.

word count: like 4k or sum?

author note: GUYSSS SEND ME REQQ im runnin outta ideas but they’re helping fr — omgosh i was kinda lazy w this one but 🤷‍♀️ we’re done soo enjoy!! Unedited again, based off req again, and written very late (again)

For a while now, Paige had sensed things were starting to change between you guys, but she never realized the full extent of it until you were laid out before her, prepared for her to claim what she'd rightfully believed belonged to her and just her.

In that moment and the moments that followed, she'd become immensely startled at how susceptible she'd become to the clear break from casuality your actions unintentionally endorsed. You most likely hadn't seen it that way -- you'd always harbored a tiny figurative crush on Paige from the beginning which you had confided in her friends about.

Paige was also well aware, notioned by your behavior during sex. You consistently praised her for being 'so fucking hot' and would go on fuck-drunk-tangets about how attractive you found her, or you'd occasionally steal a kiss from her whenever her lips were momentarily unoccupied during your hookups. She found your excitement endearing and trusted your ability to turn it off outside of the bedroom, which you always did. But for the first time ever, truly ever since you guys had fucked, which was countless times now, you had let your emotions overcome you, and you had kissed Paige in a way that was incredibly intimate, meant for real lovers.

Due to her occasional tiredness that sometimes prohibited the girl from leaving, she had spent the night, and the morning after, when you had both woke up interwined, naked with your bodies against each-other, you gave her a telling gaze before foolishly pressing your perfect lips against hers in a way that didn't require a genius in strictly physical relationships to realize that wasn't the moment for a kiss.

One thing about Paige, though, was that she couldn't ever resist you. She hated knowing so and wanted to fix it. In the same way you had a silly crush on her, she always held a small amount of an irrestible infatuation with you. If she didn't want to do something, Paige always managed to stop herself, but with you, she could never regain control or resist certain instances at particular times.

As most casual partners did, you two never kissed without it leading somewhere, and you were both aware of the limited time you guys had.

Yet, you spent a significant portion of that dwindling time passionately making out in bed like lovers, not pausing for a single moment to even catch your breath. It was undeniably intimate, passionate, and emotional, yet to Paige, it felt like another mistake, this time on your end. She knew you were very smart but chose to give you the benefit of the doubt. Due to her budding feelings, she chose to believe it could've just been her misreading the signs of the kiss and it could've been normal, just you being overly excited on accident, which happened to the best of us.

It could've even been you savoring your last moments with her before life resumed again.

You had been busy working and going to group study dates with your friends while Paige and her team traveled a city over to train at a renowned studio before their big game on the weekend, meaning she'd be gone until the next Tuesday, a week from your morning together.

It had been Thursday, a good ways through the week until Paige returned and until you had your off day booked, but you guys had not texted or called despite both thinking of each-other lots. All your friends, who previously didn't care about Paige, believing her to be nothing but a douchey-player-skeeze, finally cared enough to listen to your loss of virginity story. Every detail, from the precise strokes she gave you to her entranced demeanor at the state she'd left you in and the morning after story made them recognize the intensity and intimacy in the situation.

Some of them believed that Paige was breaking from her usual behavior, what they called her many 'laws', because she was starting to seriously like you, but the others thought it had been the opposite way around. They said she had gotten what she wanted from you and was done, seeing no point in caring about her rules at the end of the road. From the beginning of your involvement with her, they warned you that it was a trap designed to make you develop feelings before she eventually lived up to her player reputation and broke the heart of an innocent, never-before-loved girl. This topic sparked a heated debate among your friends, who relished the opportunity for debate. As they argued about whether Paige had fallen in or out of love, a grave realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

Before Paige settled down with you only, a choice she made on the basis of you being the only girl she was seeing who wasn't stress, drama, or complications, she was always transparent about her weekends after big games. If she had chosen to stay where the game was hosted for the weekend instead of coming back home to relax after a busy week, it meant she was getting with other girls. ou weren't by any means dumb. Paige was going to leave you; not for any of the debated reasons, but because she had likely realized the intimacy long before you had and was now prepared to escape. The kiss you initiated was spontaneous, and Paige likely knew this, choosing to begin a subtle breakaway. She'd start by making it clear she would be with other girls, not calling or texting, thus ghosting you, hoping your smart self would catch the hint.

And boy, you had. You broke down. On the kitchen floor, all your moments with Paige, starting from the beginning, replayed in your head in a loop. You remembered when you first met at the party, the way she looked at you, and how it felt when she kissed you. Then, there was the first time you two had sex. You recalled how nervous you were, and how she reassured you, alike the presumed, figurative and literal last time you had. You reflected on the first time you ever cried in front of her, upset at your grades and the first time she opened up to you about her struggles with wanting a normal life while also being committed to her career. It was a rare glimpse into her world, and it brought you closer together.

As these memories flooded your mind, you couldn't help but feel a deep sense of longing and sadness for what was now lost.

Life had become unbearably stressful, and you found solace in Paige's company, perhaps subconsciously evading your stress by seeking her out. She was more than just a girl you were fucking ; she was a friend, someone you could turn to when you had no one else. But now, the prospect of experiencing her comfort again seemed uncertain, and you couldn't shake the feeling that it was all your fault for initiating this foolish ordeal in the first place. You were upset, feeling betrayed by Paige's sudden detachment. How could she just let you go like that? You felt dumb for ever believing she wasn't capable of it, despite her warnings. The exhaustion from juggling school, work, and studies had reached its tipping point, and you were overwhelmed by it all. Your thoughts swirled endlessly in a sea of self-doubt and despair. "My friends were right," you lamented. "How could I agree to getting used by her?" you cried out. Thoughts of your own perceived foolishness echoed in your mind. "I'm so dumb," you whispered to yourself, feeling like you had single-handedly ruined everything.

And in a fit of utter madness, you decided to text her, asking: ur stayin over the wknd? lmao i just realized that wtf? When an hour passed, her typical response span, you lashed out and texted: who are u fucking paige? All boldly. You never questioned it -- that was a rule. But who cared about breaking her rules at this point? You following them for this long had got you nothing but dumped and ignored like a piece of trash.

To your expentancy, Paige never replied and you texted her a long paragraph detailing your frustration with her. As you reached the end of your message, a sense of clarity washed over you. In a futile last attempt to take control of the situation, regardless of who said it first, with a heavy heart, you made the difficult decision to end things, recognizing that prolonging the pain was no longer an option.

Then, you got up, got dressed, and went to the gym. There, you released all your pent-up energy and had a chance to focus on yourself. Needless to say, you slept soundly after letting your emotions out, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders at chosing to prioritize your own well-being.

Paige's morning (and night) was a stark contrast to yours. While you wept, she was getting with a UCONN cheerleader after hours and drunk out of her fucking mind. She woke up at the side of a random girl while expriencing the worst hangover she had ever had, unable to recall the events of the previous night.

She stumbled from an Uber to her dorm house, feeling disoriented and sick. Upon returning home, Azzi noticed her state and confiscated her phone to retrace her night, only to discover a barrage of texts from you. Paige spent the next two days sleeping off her hangover, feeling utterly drained. On Sunday, when the rest of the team returned home, they staged an intervention for Paige.

They expressed concern about her drinking habits and advised her to focus on her career rather than letting a girl consume her thoughts. They warned her against reconciling with you, citing your recent breakup and her drinking as red flags. Paige felt confused and defensive as her team confronted her about the relationship. She argued that there was nothing wrong with it and denied being as invested as they claimed. However, when they pointed out evidence of her attachment to you, including her lock-screen, her taking your virginity, and the videos of you she frequently watched without caring for being caught, she felt defeated. It was at that moment, when her world seemed to be pushing you two apart, that Paige discovered you had initiated the push yourself. She felt the same heartache and confusion you had felt the day before. Despite trying to maintain a facade of indifference, she couldn't deny the impact the situation was having on her. Despite her efforts to focus on training, playing, and studying, thoughts of you consumed her late at night, leaving her feeling torn and emotionally drained.

She knew it was probably wrong to do so, but once again, she gave you the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps you were going through stuff or maybe it was just a momentary lapse in judgmental. There was no way you truly meant to end things and this rebellion was very uncharacteristic of you. Paige felt the need to see you face-to-face, to observe your behavior and gauge if you were truly done with her, and if she was truly done with you as her friends suggested she should be. Plus, she had always emphasized the importance of speaking in person, so you should have known to expect her at your door on Tuesday night.

Coincidentally, you had just ordered dinner, so when you heard the knock, you pulled open the door without hesitation and froze dead in your tracks at the sight of her.

"Hey," she half-smiled, awkwardly. This was bad. What the hell was she doing here? Deep down, you knew you were still tangled up inthe aftermath of your decision, but that didn't stop the instinctual yearning that surged within you at the sight of her. You hadn't even expected her to show up, stirring a potent mix of confusion and desire that pulsed through your veins and heart like a wildfire. As you stood there between your door-frame, silent, your body betraying you with insistent tingles and heated pulses to your clit, she continued. "I know I should've called or texted you back before showing up, but I've been in some shit," Paige confessed, her voice tinged with regret. "I just wanna talk." "You're right, Paige. You should've texted me back or called me. Your entire week away, why didn't you?" you pressed, voice sharp with frustration. A silence hung heavy in the air briefly before the girl scratched the nape of her neck, her demeanor embarrased. "I

was hungover," she admitted sheepishly. You nodded, your tongue poking at your cheek as you mulled over her response. "Alright, well, it's not my fault then, Paige. Goodnight," you stated firmly, intending to close the door. However, with her strength, she held it open as she insisted, "Don't be a bitch, y/n. You aren't this kinda girl." Against your will, the door was opened fully. "No, Paige, you don't get to ignore me and then show up to fix things when you realize I'm not just some toy at your convience and that I can make choices in our situation too. Up until now, I've respected everything you've ever told me, so just this once, respect what I said to you," you asserted firmly.

Paige could have engaged in a heated debate with you, confident in her ability to outmaneuver your frustrations, but that wasn't her intention being there. She wasn't ready to lose you yet. "You're that mad at me? You wanna end everything?" she asked softly, her voice laced with a hint of vulnerability as she searched your eyes for an answer. You remained silent, averting your gaze from hers, which alone had spoken volumes. She sighed out, remorseful. "I'm sorry." This was a far cry from the Paige you'd begun with. At the start of it all, when she held all the power and you were simply the girl, she would have never uttered a straightforward apology. If she flaked on you and showed up later, she didn't apologize outright. Instead, she tended to offer explanations for her actions. Presently, she had not even attempted her typical evasive manuvers. "I'm an asshole." she conceded self-deprecatively. And oddly enough, with her hands clasped behind her back, chewing out her bottom lip, and a look of remorse on her face, she just looked so sexy to you.

Your face had lit up after she'd insulted herself, like it had pleased you, and when Paige saw your change in demeanor, she instantly recognized a positive response from you to anything she'd said, so she spoke again, her tone now more fervent and eager for your acknowledgment. "I am, right?" she implored, her voice tinged with desperation, as if searching for validation from you. When you tried to look up, avoiding her eyes, it was her touch next. You craved it. You'd missed it. You wanted it. Yeah, you wanted to be strong too—but with her hand interlocking with yours, you really wanted it. She did too. You could feel her eyes tracing down your body, and in that moment, you knew Paige missed you too, even if she was acting a fool in absence. She could have any girl in the world, but here she was, becoming undone, unraveled, so desperate just for you. You nodded your head carefully, confirming your agreement with that sentiment. She was an asshole. "Yeah," she murmmured, her desire for your approval palpable. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at her as her head buried itself delicately in the crook of your neck—it would make it all too real. At first, she's still, engulfing your scent with deep inhales like a curious dog. As she inhales, the air sends shivers down your spine, making your skin tingle with anticipation. Every nerve in your body feels alive, sensitive to her every touch. That's what causes you to let out a soft moan when with a desperate hunger, Paige's tongue glides over your skin, tracing every curve of your crook with an urgency that betrays her need for you and leaves you breathless. She keeps going, entirely undeterred by your half-hearted whisper of, "Paige, stop." as your hand rests on her waist, holding her close. It's as if something has come over her. She acts like she's starved and can't get enough of you. Like she's trying to imprint every inch of you into her memory before you slip away. "Don't leave me," Paige's voice trembles with longing as her hand snakes down to grip your ass tightly. "Please."

You're losing yourself too, succumbing to the intoxicating heat of the moment. Other building occupants could stumble upon the scene unfolding, but in that moment, you don't care about nothing other than her. As the intensity of the moment washes over you, your head, previously tilted backward, comes down instinctively.

You shut your eyes tightly, feeling the warmth of Paige's lips against yours as you press into the kiss. Her tongue darts against yours and with an insatiable hunger, she begins to prod at your tongue, licking that too. You can taste the faint trace of yourself on her tongue, heightening the intensity of the moment as you both vie for control in the kiss. You begin to grind against each other, your bodies moving in a frantic rhythm that mirrors the urgency of your kisses, and your lips struggle to keep pace with the fevered tempo as you move against each-other, Paige groaning loudly, unable to contain the surge of arousal exiting her pussy. With each further movement, spit begins to fall on your chest, a tangible sign of the passion consuming you both.

In the blink of an eye, Paige has slipped into your apartment. She places you against the front door and her lips trail across your chest as she swiftly undresses you. You find yourself yielding to her advances. She exudes a strength that renders resistance futile.

As your clothes fall away, Paige doesn't linger to admire the sight before her. She mentally accounts how she couldn't ever take the sight of your body, in real life and not over a phone, for granted, but she's too worked up to say anything to you at this point.

As she lays you down on the bed, she wastes no time in shedding her shirt, revealing the contours of her body clad in a sleek sports bra. The definition of her abs catches your eye, a testament to her week of rigorous training. A small moan escapes your lips at the sight, fueling the desire that courses through your veins. Instead of passively accepting her advances, you decide to take control. Rising up on your knees, you grasp the strings of her sweatpants and pull her towards you, eyes locked with her blueys. "I wanna ride 'em, P," you declare, seizing her by the waist and guiding her onto the bed. She's momentarily lost for words, her eyes widening in bewilderment. "W-what?" with a soft chuckle, you help her prop herself up against the bedpost before straddling her waist. Leaning forward, you dangle your breasts enticingly in front of her face.

"You're so strong," you murmur, releasing a loud moan as you rock your hips forward. She flexed in response, mirroring your movements, whether intentional or not, and you felt a rush of heat flood your body. Her solid, sturdy body was perfect for the grind of your clit. "I just wish you were as smart as you are powerful."

Paige held onto your hips as you ground forward, the slickness between your bodies creating a smooth, frictionless glide. With a husky tone, she murmured, "All wet for me, huh, ma?"

"Who wouldn't be?" you whimpered in response, your hips bucking eagerly against her. As you increased your pace, Paige delivered a sharp slap to your ass, exactly how she knew you liked it, eliciting a sharp cry from your lips. "You still like me," she stated the obvious truth as you shuddered uncontrollably beneath her touch. Her mouth latched onto your nipple as you continued grinding, the feel of her lips and tongue making your hips stutter. "Mmph, fuck, P, wait... I'll cum if you..." you paused, halting your movements to catch your breath as she continued to suckle at your chest. With a loud 'pop', she unlatched, her own chest heaving with desire. "Can I fuck you with it again?" she asked, her voice thick with need and longing, her eyes searching yours for consent to do what began all this in the first place. "In the drawer," you replied mundanely, trying to hide your excitement though your desire for her was raging. You reasoned that the more unamused you behaved, the more she would try to make it up to you, all calculated to draw her closer while maintaining a semblance of control.

As she dug through your drawer and began to fit it on upon the bed, you stood up, positioning your vanity mirror to face the bed.

You needed to see yourself for what you were about to do. Climbing onto the bed, you slithered up Paige's body slyly, pointing your finger toward the mirror, your reflections capturing the desire and anticipation in both of your eyes. "Kay," you huffed, elevating your hips and watching as you slowly sunk down on her. She held your hips to help you, but you pushed them off, frowning fauxly.

"What, Paige? Don't think I got it in me to fuck you?" you teased, elevating slowly before coming back down again. With her hands behind her head, arms involuntarily flexing, she shook her head. "Never. Not how I fuck you." You ticked your head. "Let's see then. Shut up and let me focus." As you picked up the pace, you closed

your eyes, lost in the sensations coursing through your body. It was a familiar feeling, one you had forgotten but now remembered all too well. Paige's heavy breaths, entertained, echoed in the room, a testament to the intesity of the moment. You struggled to find a steady rhythm, letting instinct guide your movements. "Baby, slow it d--" Her voice, calling you "baby," sent a jolt of pleasure through you. "Mmh," you squeaked listlessly, "Fuck, Paige, keep talking to me," you moaned, bouncing on the thick member, your head thrown back in abandon. "What's the magic word?" she teased, her words sending shivers down your spine. "Pl-please," you stammered, your body on fire. "Good girl, baby. You know I love when you use your manners," she cooed, her words driving you over the edge. Unable to resist any longer, you surrendered to Paige's devotion, allowing her to guide you toward the peak of ecstasy, despite the initial intention of taking control.

She remembered how much you enjoyed it on your stomach. With precision, she slammed her hips against yours, pounding you relentlessly for around ten seconds before deciding to switch your position, sensing that you were close. With you now on your stomach, she placed a hand on your hip and pressed you down against the bed as she continued to pound into you with fervor. Gripping your hair, she pulled you up so you could see yourself in the mirror, intoxicated by the sight. You looked utterly wrecked. Drool escaped your parted lips, your hair matted with sweat, and tears streaked down your flushed cheeks. She had fucked you so relentlessly that it bordered on painful, yet the pleasure was incomparable. The sight of her biting her bottom lip as she worked you over, plunging deep inside you without breaking a sweat, was mesmerizing. "I'm sorry, baby," she whispered, leaning forward and pressing her body against yours as she continued to piston her hips, driving deep into you. "I'm so, so sorry. I hope you forgive me. I won't stop until you do."

Paige's powerful strokes sent loads of pleasure coursing through your bones, each thrust causing you to shake. You gripped the sheets tightly for stability, your nails digging into the fabric as she plunged into you with a hunger that matched your own. With your legs wrapped around her, you met her gaze, drowning in the intensity of her eyes as she devoured you with hers.

The sight of her arm muscles flexing as she held you steady, abs too, and her body working against yours fueled the fire burning within you, and it was only a matter of time until you exploded entirely. The reflection in the mirror only added to the raw eroticism of the moment, capturing the sheer intensity of your connection, the passion that consumed you both. She had you completely at her mercy, using you for her own pleasure, and yet, you couldn't help but revel in the sheer ecstasy of it all. "I wanna cum, Paige," you whimpered, your voice thick with need. "Please, just keep fucking me like that." The sound of skin meeting skin echoed in the room, a song of want mingling with the rhythm of your moans. You surrendered to the pleasure, letting it wash over you in wave after wave of bliss, each one pushing you closer to the edge of oblivion. "Do you forgive me yet?" she breathed, her voice dripping with cockiness. You shook your head, the ache of desire mingling with the sting of resentment. "Why not, baby?" she teased, her lips curling into a wicked grin. The truth spilled from your lips, a confession. "Because you're so fuckin' mean to me," you gasped, the words punctuated by a moan as she drove into you with renewed fervor. She shook her head, a smirk playing at her lips as she reveled in the power she held over you. "If I was mean to you, would I be fucking you to tears?" she taunted, each word pushing you closer to the brink of surrender. Please, Paige, faster, m'gonna cum so hard," you gasped, your nails digging into her wrists as you begged for more. "Yeah, baby?" she purred, disregarding the marks on her skin as she complied with your request, increasing the tempo with each thrust. "Fuck, P, yeah," you moaned, "shit mommy, I'm gonna cum." But she slowed herself slightly, denying you release. "No, you're not," she asserted, her thumb wiping away your tears as she held your gaze. "Not until you ask mommy to."

"Ughhh, P, so mean," you whined, complying, "please, mommy, please let me cum on your cock."

She smiled, proud. "C'mon baby, give it to me, mama," she urged, her movements becoming more frantic with each word. "Give it to me," she repeated, "give it to me," and when you finally did, your entire body convulsed, pleasure washing over you as you released, your essence squirting out and staining the sheets. You moaned loudly, the sound echoing in the room, uncaring if your neighbors could hear, lost in the throes of ecstasy. But she didn't stop, continuing to fuck you even after you'd climaxed. And when you finally begged her to stop, overwhelmed and spent, she paid you no mind, only focused on one thing and one thing only. "You forgive me, baby?" she asked, her thrusts sloppy. "Yes, yes, yes, Paige. I forgive you," you murmured, unable to raise your voice any longer."Huh?" she teased, forcing you to speak louder. "Yes, Paige. I FORGIVE YOU!" you declared, the words ringing out as she abruptly withdrew from you. You knew what she wanted next as she removed the strap, her intentions clear. "Let's put your mouth to use," she commanded, and the night was far from over.

an: y/n delulu era? Idk how I rly feel ab this one lmk guys I love reading your comments and my inbox it’s like the best 🤞

also y’all this is part 4

#smut #18+ only #paige x reader #paige buckets #paige bueckers fic #paige x fem reader #Paige x oc #Paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #bueckersxfemreader #smutwccb #smut bueckers #uconn huskies #march madness #uconn vs iowa #paigesmut #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #ncaa wbb #ncaa tournament #ncaa march madness #strapsmut #wlw smut #wlw post #pb #Paige bueckerswlw #Paige #wlw #woman’s basketball

[bunnys-kisses]

vegetable patch (3)

farmer!captain john price & (brief) hybrid!simon

cw: hybrid au, bunny!reader, farmer!price, pregnant!reader, pregnancy, man-handling, fingering, pwp/smut, full nelson (sex position), oral sex (f receiving), threesome, guard dog!simon, double penetration, older!price, mindbreak, (there's a lot happening),

part one (simon) | part two (simon & johnny)

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own!

john never thought it would get to this. when he bought the farm and raised his hybrid guard dogs, he never expected to have a bunny around. let along a pregnant one.

but almost six months into your pregnancy, he had grown affectionate of you. sure you were a bit to handle sometimes, but in a way pregnancy, a roof over your head and a fully belly (in both ways) has made you softer. less of a wild animal and more of a pet.

it was cute.

the one thing that didn't change was your insatiable lust. originally price thought that two strong hybrid dogs would take care of your little bunny cunt, but not even those could stop you. let alone the heaviness of your middle.

the boys were out patrolling the yard with you safe in the house. you were curled up on simon's doggy bed with your hands on your belly and your hands situated on your belly with your head propped up on a pillow.

it was cute, john found himself almost enamored by the sight of you as he relaxed on the couch with a beer in his hand. you were just so small, the little bit of chub at your hips only made you seem cuter.

he got up from the couch and left the beer on the table as he walked toward you. he crouched down and rubbed your cheek. you leaned into his touch and whimpered a little. he chuckled and said, "good girl."

your eyes opened a little and you looked up at price, "what time is it?" your little tail did a wiggle under the over-sized shirt that you wore. he chuckled and pulled you close to him.

he fully sat down on the floor and took you into his arms, delicately. his hand grazed your middle, "not even close to lunch, the boy's are still out. it's just you and i."

you dipped your nose into the crook of his neck and you whimpered, "i feel wet."

"yeah, havin' wet dreams about simon, mama?"

"no." you said, "about you." as your hand reaches for his shirt and you held onto it. you buried your face deeper into his neck as he held you on the hardwood floor.

price's eyes went wide for a moment but then slowly got up with you in his arms. it was like holding a sack of potatoes. the most prominent part of you was the puppy was slept soundly in your belly.

"then i guess we must go to bed then. i know you love simon's bed, but my knees and back won't let me fuck you on the floor." his voice was gruff.

you giggled, "be gentle, baby's sleeping."

"of course, bunny." he replied as he brought you upstairs to his bedroom. there was a spare room for guests and an extra room for the three hybrids of his home.

but right now he was taking you to his room where he could fuck that sweet bunny cunt. it hadn't been the first time he had ever done it, but every time it was something else. a wild little hybrid now tamed and under his gentle care, the way he tamed his boys.

the bed was large and soft, he placed you down and started to work on the jeans he wore followed by the flannel of his shirt. he was hairier than simon and johnny, who had tufts here and there to show their hybrid heritage. but price was hairy that was a man was.

you wondered if a human got a hybrid pregnant then what would the baby be. because from the size of price, you were certain to have a heavy newborn. you got off your shirt and sat there naked on the bed, exposed to your farmer.

his large hands touched your belly gently, thumb grazed the stretch marks, "keepin' the little pup nice and safe, huh? bein' a good mama for me?

you nodded, "only the best for you, sir."

he reached down and rubbed your chubby little cheek, "i can see why simon trapped ya." he chuckled, "cute thing like you shouldn't be wandering the woods. that little cottontail will get into too much trouble."

he got onto the bed and man-handled you into his lap, he wanted to feel you as deep as he could. he wanted to know the inside and outside of bunny cunt. but the position he got you into was more of a wrestling move to keep you pinned against him.

you put your knees up to your head and he had your arms pinned back against him. your squirmed a little, you sort of loved the idea of being trapped. john was propped up against the oak headboard with his little pet bunny in his lap with her cunt soon full of his cock.

it was a little hard to do with such a big belly in the way, you had to squish it a little as you were moved to fit his position. you faced the door that led out of the bedroom and with a few misplaced thrusts, you moaned when price sank his cock into you.

"ah, sir!" you whimpered.

he thrusted into you and kept you in the position. it tested you physical limits but john was a strong man and you were a flexible bunny. after all you had to get through his fence somehow. but now you were all nice a plump with child.

price groaned at the idea of you pregnant with his child next. such a sweet little bunny carrying the farmer's seed made his cock throb while buried inside of you. you sweet noises were music to his ears.

"you like that, mama." he groaned, "you like when i fuck you hard?" he kissed the shell of your ear, "simon got lucky to have a taste of you first, because if it were me. if i caught you in my vegetable patch, then you'd never get the taste of my cock out of your mouth."

you kicked your legs out a little bit as he sank into your further, as deep as it would go. you could feel his cock pressed against your womb. your ears twitched and you felt soaked.

"you'd like that wouldn't you. maybe a little bit more time before you go on birth control would do you some good. see if you can take this old man's seed in your pretty, fertile cunt." he grumbled, "bunnies are known for their many babies."

you felt something churn in your stomach as your pregnant belly bounced with every hard thrust. the sex was rough, heat filled the air as you two moved together.

"i like how you look, mama. all swollen with pup. i bet it was so easy for you, took simon's seed so nicely." he purred as he held you tightly, making it slightly uncomfortable.

but you felt on cloud nine, until the bedroom door opened. and on the otherside was none other than your lover, simon. you whimpered and kicked out your legs.

simon was covered in muck, blood across the shirt he wore. he watched you as you were cock drunk and raised an eyebrows, "price." he said, "what are you doin' with my girl."

"she needed a little tlc, simon." he replied, "you know what bunnies are like. they could be having thirteen kits and still beg for another." he looked over your shoulder and asked, "what the hell did you get into."

"had to scare of a coyote." simon replied, "he could smell bunny all the way from the fence. that's how i knew you were fuckin' her."

"then get that shirt off and help me out." john replied as his pace became harder. you saw stars and your mouth hung open for a moment in pure lust.

with his shirt off and dropped to the floor, followed by, his jeans. he was soon on the bed and licking at your sweet cunt as price fucked you. you were trapped between the two men and you felt a dizziness in your mind.

this was somehow more intense than the threesome you had with johnny and simon. simon only let those in his 'pack' have a taste of his pregnant mate, which meant coyotes like graves were off limits. if simon ever saw graves' paws on you.

simon kept your legs open with his strong hands, the tips of his claws left indents in your skin as he lapped at your cunt. his tongue did touch price's cock which made the older man feel hot all over.

you were the loudest out of the three of you, your voice was high pitched and you felt so full. you squirmed against both men but they kept you still as best as they could.

you came once, then twice, the three times from the pleasure from both men. it was sensory overload. your mind went blank by the third orgasm that the men pulled from you. which left simon painfully hard.

"got any room in there, price." simon said as he pulled away from your cunt and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. his cock stood at full attention in his underwear.

"well, she'll need a good stretch if she's havin' your pup." price chuckled, he could feel himself getting closer. you on the other hand were mindlessly moaning without being able to form words.

your pussy was so wet that he slid in next to price with ease. the stretch made you whimper like an animal, but soon you were dropped back into the depths of pleasure as both men used you.

price let go of your arms but caged you with his around your middle. you felt sore, but your brain couldn't register much. your mouth hung open and drooled a little. your brain felt like it was broken in half.

"i know you can't smell it, price." simon said, "but bred bunny smells the best." his hands were on your belly and soon were price's. simon felt superior for having seeded you first.

sure his other packmates had their fun, but everything from the pup in your belly to the cotton on your tail was his. he watched your gasp for air as you tried to formulate thoughts.

his poor pregnant mate, such a beating to your pussy. but it was okay, he knew that you liked it. bunny's had a pension for a little pain.

both men, fucked you without much abandon. they ever managed to pull one last orgasm out of you which tore from your throat as you went limp against price's hairy chest. the feeling of two cocks inside of your cute little cunt was just too much.

and not wasting any seed, they flooded your poor pussy with human and hybrid seed alike. they stayed in you for a moment more before they pulled out at the same time. cum oozed out of you and simon petted your belly.

"johnny's gonna be jealous he didn't get to join." price remarked.

simon replied, "before he went out on patrol with me. he stuffed a sock in her mouth and fucked her in his bed on the floor. she's got all of our seed in her."

price held you in his arms as you twitched and moaned from the aftershocks of your activity. he watched simon kiss you before he rubbed your belly, "good mama. good little bunny, now you rest and keep growing that pup. simon and i will come back for you later."

you managed to give them a weak nod, your brain felt flat-lined but the lingering feelings of pleasure still shook you to your core <3

#bunny writes #call of duty #reader insert #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty smut #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #cod hybrid au #hybrid au #captain john price #captain johnathan price #captain john price smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #john price smut #john price x reader #john price cod #john price #bunny!reader #guard dog!simon #farmer!price #ghost call of duty

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

Hey girl! Since you write 2 of my fave genres and saw your're accepting requests I hope that maybe this message reaches you and you will give my idea a try. It is of course some angst to fluff with Gojo x reader. Both in their 20s (let's say JJK0), reader is pretty new to the Jujutsu world but just as strong as Satoru, super funny and sarcastic but very chill (so a bit his opposite if you will). Shoko, being close with the reader notices that she has feelings for Gojo and she doesn't confess because of fear of rejection. Things get worse when reader *thinks* she sees him flirting and tries distancing herself and wallow a bit. So maybe at the end either something happens and Gojo confesses (in his own emotionally constipated way) ooorrr Shoko *helps* out a bit by having a talk with good 'ol Gojo (or both *wink*). Either way, you take this idea, turn it, twist it, do whatever your magical talented self wants with it and you have all the love from me (you have it nevertheless ^^). Thank youu

Misunderstandings Can Often Be Helpful {Gojo Satoru}

A/n: thank you for requesting, I hope you like it

Pairing: Gojo x fem!reader

Trigger Warnings: none

Everyone who knew Gojo in a relatively more personal level could see it. Geto leaving hurt him. His wounds were still fresh and bleeding but he was now the strongest. Alone. The word didn't even feel right, refering to himself as the strongest when he had been so used to saying "we" since Geto was supposed to be always there with him. His best friend. His one and only.

But life went on and soon a new student was announced. With the only exception that you were no regular student. After the arrival of Yuta in Jujutsu Tech, Gojo had naturally expected you to be more around the first years age. The shock on his face when he learnt that you were just a few years younger than him would forever remain imprinted on your meomory... and on paper since Shoko managed to take a picture of him.

When the principal told him about you, Gojo expected to see someone with no abilities whatsoever. He knew of course that you were almost on the same level as him power-wise and from Yaga's sayings, you had no idea how to control your powers. It went without saying that he had been assigned to be your teacher since he not only was the only one who overpowered you but because he was the only one knowledgeable enough to help you understand and control your powers. That was what he told Shoko anyways.

What he didn't expect however was to get his ass kicked both physically and mentally. And all that on your first day there as well.

"Whoah, were are you going?" He quickly stood up, stretching his back. The last kick you had given him behind the knees had been enough to make him realise that turning off his limitless was a wrong decision.

"To get some water, I assumed we were taking a break? You seemed really friendly with the floor." You opened the door, ready to walk out.

"Do you usually assume a lot of things?"

"It appears as such. I assumed you were stronger in physical combat."

Now that was a hit below the belt. Apart from Geto and occasionally Shoko, no one ever had the balls to call him... weak. Gojo Satoru wasn't weak. He was the strongest!

"Damn that would have looked great on camera..." Shoko shrugged, blowing out the smoke from her cigarette.

"Are you kidding me? I don't even have time to respond! It's one sarcastic comment after another!" Gojo chuckled before shouting a 'time out' for the first years.

After that day, Shoko took a great liking in you, mostly because Gojo seemed to be getting gradually better emotionally. In fact, she went to properly meet you the very next day. And the rest was history.

You and Gojo were the only reasons why she would stay up late in her office, waiting for your training session to end, just so she can catch up with all the latest gossip brought by none other than the new strongest duo.

But Shoko was no fool. Be it after training sessions, after missions or even after some casual nights out with the two of you, she had quickly picked up on the way you looked at Gojo. It wasn't really admiration. Hanging out with his annoying ass had brought your ego to the same level as his. It wasn't the expected teacher-student dynamic either. That had long been gone after you managed to give him a black eye (accidentally obviously) during your early days of training.

It was something else, something she could say was a developing crush on the world's most annoying human being. But it was fun seeing it. Gojo knew your favourite drink by heart and would order it for you before you could even open your mouth. You would slightly blush when he would pass it on to you after the waiter mistaking it for his order. On extremely rare occasions she would catch your apologetic expression as you brought him to her office after landing him a hit that wasn't supposed to hurt him at all. Not to mention how she would notice you looking at him during your breaks. Yes, that was what sealed the deal for her.

The only problem was... Shoko knew Gojo and most importantly, she knew the reputation that surrounded him and if not the reputation then... the crowds of women. Not to be mistaken though, Geto was surprisingly far more popular with women back when Gojo and him were teens.

"You're here alone? That's a new one." She patted Maki's back, signaling for her to leave as Gojo entered the office.

"Yeah well... y/n left right after practice ended." He groaned and laid down on the cold metal bed Shoko had. "She did strain her leg though so I don't know why she refused when I offered to take her to you."

Shoko's alarms went off. You, refusing help from none other than Gojo Satoru? The guy you had a crush on for the last year now? Sure, there had been a few times here and there when you refused to help each other out of pure banter but at the end of the day, both of you walked into her office together.

"What's with that smile?" Gojo raised the left side of his blindfold just to side eye Shoko. "It's creepy."

But Shoko's life had just gotten a new meaning because the very next day she was ringing the doorbell of your apartment. She knew it was Saturday, you didn't have any missions and no practice time with Gojo so this was the perfect time to learn what had happened the night before.

Shoko wasn't someone who liked gossip. Scratch that: she wasn't someone who liked to work in order to learn the latest gossip. To his credit though, Geto always brought her something juicy. With him now gone, she was counting on you and Gojo.

"It's... 8 in the morning... what are you doing here? Why are you even up so early?" You let out a yawn and stepped aside to let her walk in your apartment.

"I need to know everything." She removed her shoes and her coat. "And when I mean everything, I mean even the tiniest bit of sweat that ran down Gojo's exposed forehead that made you not come to my office yesterday." With an air filled with nonchalance, Shoko took the ashtray you had bought specifically for her and walked towards your balcony. She knew you didn't like the smell of smoke in your house. "Come on! I need words coming out of your mouth sweetheart!"

You would have made up an excuse. Shoko knew you would, she could practically see it forming in your head but she knew you weren't going to say it. Because she was your best friend and you were hers and in the past year, the two of you had shared more secrets with each other than she had with anyone else. Yaga's hemorrhoids? You had discussed that in your first week there. Yuta's crush on Maki? Been there, said that.

"Um... I just... does he have a girlfriend?"

"No? Why?"

"Because... like..." And then you finally caved in, taking the closest chair and placing it next to the one Shoko was sitting on. "Two days ago, after we had returned from our mission, I filled in the paperwork and as I was heading to Yaga's office I saw him talking to a woman... and she seemed both serious and flirty?"

"How did she look like?" Shoko asked a little hesitantly, hoping you weren't talking about the one she thought you were talking about.

"Tall, blonde hair, she was holding a helmet."

Her assumptions had been correct. "Yuki? Tsukumo Yuki?" She turned to look at you with wide eyes and a cigarette that was hanging so loosely from her fingers that could fall in any moment. When you didn't respond, Shoko bursted out laughing. "Are you shitting me? Yuki is a special grade sorcerer. She would never... god... anyways, I have to go to the office."

That was a lie. Shoko wasn't going to the office.

Conveniently enough, yours and Gojo's apartment were as close as a fifteen minute walk so when she finally reached the fifth floor of his flat, she wasn't breathless.

"If you don't confess to that poor girl in the next hour, I will personally call her and tell her that her contact name in your phone is love. With a red heart."

"It's almost nine in the morning what are you doing here? Why are you even up so early?" He let out a yawn but unlike you, he didn't let her in so Shoko just pushed her way in. "No matter the case, I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh you do. You have bought her kikufuku over a thousand times. Kikufuku that were meant for you!"

"I am a person who likes to share." Gojo leaned against the kitchen bar.

"He is lying." The old lady that he had hired to clean his house on Saturdays spoke, walking out of his bathroom. "He keeps following me while I clean and talks about her. I even sent her a gift on her birthday since aparently I know her better than her own mother."

Shoko's eyes widened at the sound of this new information and it wasn't long before she started throwing the apples on the kitchen counter at Gojo.

It took Gojo three minutes to put on some nice clothes and he could swear that if Shoko was tall enough to reach him, she would be dragging him to your house by his ear.

"What's-"

"Have fun!" Shoko pushed Gojo inside your apartment and before both of you could protest, she closed the door and glued her ear on it so she could listen to every single word, every single comma said between the two of you.

"How's your leg?" He asked. If anyone were to grade him right now, maybe he could get a D- for the effort.

"I'll live."

"Um... so..."

Was he nervous? Gojo Satoru, nervous. Let me rephrase that: Gojo Satoru was nervous while talking to a woman?

"You have made huge progress this past year. And I appreciate that we..."

The truth was that not even Satoru himself knew why he was so nervous. He had performed this speech for months in front of his mirror even though he knew how unlike himself this was. Gojo Satoru never rehearsed love confessions because he never needed any. The girls confessed to him, not the other way around.

"We?"

"Please calm down a little. I am trying to remember the highlighted part at the corner of the page."

No, he hadn't written anything down. Hell, he had never even completed one rehearsal of this supposed love confession. But humour came naturally to him; it was the only way Gojo knew when it came to dealing with stressful situations. Especially after Geto left.

"I am glad we are the strongest um... together."

"Sure." You brushed it off, unaware of the amount of effort this poor guy was putting into confessing.

"Great, I'll pick you up at 7."

"For what?"

"Our date?"

"What date?"

"The one I am taking you on because I just confessed and this is what couples do?" A small pause followed and Gojo could practically feel the sweat staining his forehead even though he wasn't really sweating. "No?"

"8 works better."

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo x reader #gojo jjk #gojou satoru x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen masterlist #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x you #writing #anime and manga #anime #manga

[beenbaanbuun]

Do you think it's possible Yeosang might try and run away one day, possibly due to not feeling good enough to be part of the family?

in normal circumstances, no. he doesn’t have time to feel insecure when (even with the new addition of san) he has darling clinging onto him. every single bad thought about himself is wiped away whenever she flops down onto his stomach and curl into his warmth. how can he doubt himself when he has someone who loves him this much?

having said that, if the two of them were to ever argue i think yeosang would take it personally. he might blame you for a little while, but it’ll begin to take a toll on him after a short while, especially if it’s over something that happened during the full moon.

he’s the type to not show how he’s feeling until he’s reached the peak of his emotions, which is when he packs his bag and heads downstairs in the dead of night. no need for useless goodbyes or explanations if he leaves when everyone else is asleep. he can go back to mingi without kicking up too much of a fuss.

but seonghwa is too observant for his own good. if anything is wrong with any of his family, moody werewolf included, he’s the first to know. so when yeosang tiptoes along the corridor to the stairs, he’s shocked to find seonghwa sitting on the top step nursing a cup of pomegranate tea. he doesn’t say anything as he takes a seat next to the man and hugs his knees to his chest. he wouldn’t feel the need to say anything when seonghwa is bound to already know it.

“leaving so soon?” seonghwa says to the werewolf before taking a sip of his piping hot tea. the look yeosang gets over the rim is all-knowing; yeosang isn’t going to get out of this easily. seonghwa pulls the cup away and smacks his lips, “thought you might at least say goodbye before running off… or are you too good for goodbyes?”

“didn’t want to upset anyone,” the wolf shies away, choosing instead to look at the dirt beneath his fingernails. you’d have sat him down and cleaned them for him had the circumstances been different. the fact that you hadn’t is only further proof of how much you must hate him. “any more than i already have done, that is.”

perhaps laughing at yeosang was quite cruel, but seonghwa couldn’t hold it back. the cackle bubbled up before he could stop it and the poor mutt had no choice but to accept it. seonghwa was laughing at him…

“sorry, pup,” he manages to force out through the laughter, “but no one is upset with you. my precious lamb knew the risks of annoying you during the full moon. she reaped what she sowed and that’s no fault of yours.”

“but—”

“no buts,” seonghwa stands before putting the cup down on the top step. he holds a hand out to the wolf, and yeosang reluctantly takes it. “get some sleep, pup; she’ll have forgotten all about it by morning.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #yeosang x reader #seonghwa x reader #hongjoong x reader #matz x reader #opposites attract universe

[cupofjeon]

Lion’s Den [✓]

↳ Summary: You should have seen the warning signs. It’s been there since the day Jungkook started showing his more than friends affection towards you. Hindsight is, indeed, twenty-twenty, and now you’re reaping the false belief you sowed about the man you once loved. By the time your rose-colored glasses shattered, it was too late. You’ve already entered the lion’s den. 

↳ Pairing: Idol!Jungkook x Producer!Fem!Reader

↳ Genre: Yandere | ↳ Type of fic: Oneshot (Completed) ✓

↳ Disclaimer: The story below the cut is fictitious only. It does not depict Jungkook or any of the other idols mentioned and featured in this story in real life. The author does not condone this type of behavior. Minors do not interact with this story. Ageless blogs will be blocked on the presumption that you are underaged.

↳ Warnings: Blackmailing, threats, NONCON: unprotected sex, slapping, marking, hair pulling, throat/face fucking, finger fucking, pussy eating, manipulation, forced marriage, physical assault, violence, murder, mention of attempted suicide, graphic depiction of abusive behaviors and relationship. 

↳ Total Word Count: 12,380

↳ Taglist: @looneybleus @iveivory @jjk174 @kissyfacekoo @sweetempathprunetree @minchedchilli @jiminismine4ever (If you cannot see the story, please change your settings and allow mature content to be displayed.)

━━ “Show you what devotion is, deeper than the ocean is.”

You slam the envelope in your hand on the counter in front of your ex-boyfriend, nose flaring and eyes narrowed as you look at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, huh? Why the hell are you doing this?” 

Jeon Jungkook stares at you impassively. “I warned you, didn’t I? Stop with all these playing hard to get nonsense or you’ll face severe consequences. You didn’t listen. Now, you’re going to need to face the consequences.” 

You stare at him in utter disbelief, mouth agape as you shake your head. “I’m not playing hard to get, Jungkook. We’re over. Why can’t you get that through your fucking head? Are you insane?!” 

Your chest rises heavily as your hands curl into fists. Jungkook’s lips curl into a lopsided smirk as he spreads his arms on the counter, holding onto the edges to lean in towards you. “I’m the one who gets to decide whether we’re over or not, baby. And I’m telling you—we’re far from it. So, what is it going to be? Are you going to continue being stubborn, or should I send these photos of your brother smoking marijuana and drinking to the media?” 

You clench your jaw, knuckles turning white the more his words echo in your mind. Then, your shoulders fall as you furrow your eyebrows and adjust the red oval shaped spectacles on the bridge of your nose. “Why are you doing this, Jungkook? This isn’t you.” 

He pokes his cheek with his tongue before sighing deeply and running his fingers through his long curly dark hair. “Of course this is me, baby. What are you talking about? It’s always been me.” 

“You’re sick, Jeon Jungkook,” you say. “This isn’t how you treat someone you claim to love. Jungwon—he loves you and he looks up to you. He sees you as his hyung and you betray him like this? What kind of a sick monster are you?” 

“You made me do this,” Jungkook hisses, walking towards you. Instinctively, you walk away from him, but he’s quick to grab your arm tightly and pull you close to him. “If you just stayed, none of these would have ever happened. But you left me, Y/N. You left me when I begged you on my fucking knees to stay. You did this to Jungwon, not me.” 

You try to pull away from him but Jungkook’s grip tightens. He looks at you with his eyebrows furrowed deeply, those soft doe eyes you loved so much holding nothing but coldness and darkness now. “Let me go. Let me fucking go, Jungkook, or I swear to God—,” 

“You’ll what? You’re going to report me to the police? To Hybe? Expose me to the media and online?” Jungkook scoffs, grabbing your face with his free hand to keep your eyes locked with his. “Nobody is going to believe you, Y/N. Who do you think you are compared to me? You’re nothing and you have no one. All you have is me.” 

You hate that he is speaking the truth. In front of everybody, Jungkook is a goddamn angel sent from above. He’s the golden maknae. He’s someone who has never changed despite the achievements he received at such a young age. He’s a philanthropist who supports various causes worldwide and donates regularly to different charities. 

A salt of the earth kind of guy, humble, polite, kind, respectful, gentleman, a walking green flag—these are his personas for everyone to see. And he’s been playing these roles goddamn well over the past decade of his career. 

Even if you report, no one is going to believe you because he’s Jeon Jungkook. 

“I hate you,” you tell him. “I hate you with every fiber of my being. I regret ever meeting you. I wish I never met you.” 

His upper lip twitches with your words. Then, he smirks. “Well, I guess you’ve made your choice then. You can carry the burden of knowing you’re responsible for the death of your brother’s career, Y/N.” 

He lets you and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Your heart races as he types something. Quickly, you hold onto his arms. “No, wait! Please don’t do this, Jungkook. Don’t do this to Jungwon, please.” 

“Let go of my arm, Y/N. I’m not going to ask again,” he says through gritted teeth. 

You only hold on tighter. “Jungkook, please. I’m—,” you can’t say it. You can’t say it. But he’s giving you no option. You have to. “I’m sorry, please. Jungkook, not Jungwon. Not my brother.” 

“Prove it,” he tells you. 

You look up at him. “What?” 

“Prove to me just how sorry you are, Y/N. Then I might reconsider sending these photos to the authorities.” 

You feel your head spinning. Your breathing becomes ragged as the anxiety builds up inside you. This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening, this isn’t happening. You repeat these like a mantra as you open your mouth to say something, but no words come out. 

Jungkook pushes you off him. “I’m done waiting around.” 

He turns his back on you, pressing his phone against his ear as he walks away from you. Your instincts take over and you catch up to him, pulling him by his shoulders and crashing your lips against his. The coldness of his lip ring makes you shiver, but it’s nothing compared to when Jungkook smirks against the kiss and returns it with much fervor and ferocity. He drops his phone on the floor as he holds your face in his big hands, tilting his head for better access. 

There is no going back now. You have crossed the line. You have sealed your fate. You hold onto his shirt as you feel tears burning your eyes. You just want this to be over with. 

“Bend over the counter,” he says, pulling away from the kiss as he starts to unbutton his jeans. 

“Jungkook—,” you begin to say. Then, you feel a stinging pain on your cheek. Eyes wide in shock, you feel tears forming in your eyes at the realization of what just occurred. 

“I didn’t ask. Bend over the fucking counter, bitch,” he hisses. 

Covered in fear, you make your way to the island countertop, embracing yourself from the inevitable. Jungkook pushes you against it, ripping your blouse apart; buttons flying everywhere in the kitchen. He only smirks at your terrified state. 

He unclasps your bra, groping your breasts with his veiny hands before ordering you to unbutton your pants. Once your pants are pooled around your ankles, Jungkook commands you to turn around and he forcefully pushes you on the cold marble top. Your glasses are positioned awkwardly but you don’t have time to take them off because Jungkook suddenly penetrates you, making you scream in pain. 

“Yeah, fuck, you’re so tight for a fucking slut,” Jungkook groans as he thrusts in you in a quick pace, not letting you adjust. He gathers your hair around his hand and pulls your head back as the pain of his sudden penetration soars through your whole body. “I missed fucking this cunt. My cunt.” 

All you can do is whimper with each thrust, tears rolling from your eyes. Jungkook pulls you to him, your back pressed against his toned chest and abs. His lips bite down the skin of your neck as he continues to thrust into you. He fondles your breast, squeezing it tight and pinching your nipples. 

Once he’s satisfied with the marks he left on your neck, he pushes you back down, grabbing your arms and pinning them behind your back as he quickened his pace once more. The sound of your groans, his grunts, and your skin slapping against each other fill the kitchen. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck, fuck,” Jungkook pants and after a few more thrusts, he lets out a long moan as you feel the hot liquid rolling down your inner thigh. He pulls out his cock from your cunt and you lay on your chest against the counter while he pulls his boxers and pants up. Tears pool on the counter top. 

Then, Jungkook pulls you to his chest, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re mine. If you leave me again, I’m going to kill every single one of the people you care about—starting with Jungwon.” 

“What are you thinking about?” Jungkook asks, propping his elbow on the bed as he rests his head on his palm, looking at you. His fingers brush the strands of hair on your face then he tilts your head to face him by your chin. 

You grip the blanket covering your naked body tightly as you stare at him with half-lidded eyes. You don’t think you have the energy to talk; your throat is sore from Jungkook fucking your mouth without any care in the world and your entire body is sore and exhausted from being fucked and handled by the monster staring at you for hours. You just want to go home. Facing the other side, you pull the blanket more to cover your entire body, curling underneath. 

Jungkook, however, slides his arm under your body and the other over your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “You know you deserve this, Y/N. If you had just stayed, none of this would have happened. I wouldn’t be so harsh. You needed to be punished for leaving me.” 

He’s insane—there is no more question about that. He’s a complete psychopath. The fact that he’s trying to justify his actions to you makes your skin crawl. 

“I told you when I was courting you that I will show you how devoted I am to you, right? We even made a song about it,” he has the audacity to chuckle as he explains his insanity. “Show you what devotion is, deeper than the ocean is, remember?” He rests his chin on your shoulder. 

You swallow the lump in your throat and with your hoarse voice, you ask him, “Will you leave Jungwon alone now that you’ve punished me?” 

“It depends,” he tells you. “You betrayed me and my trust, Y/N. You’re not off the hook yet.” 

You bite your lower lip. “Jungkook, please. I don’t know what else you want me to do. You have me already. Can you please just give me your word that you’ll erase all copies of those photos and leave my brother alone? He doesn’t deserve any of this.” 

“Okay, I’ll make sure to erase everything on one condition,” he declares. “I want you to marry me.” 

Your body freezes under his embrace. “W-What?” 

“You heard me. Marry me and I’ll leave your brother alone.” 

You turn to face him, face contorted in disbelief and utter repulsion. He stares at you in all seriousness. “You’re a monster, Jeon Jungkook.” 

He smirks as he places a kiss on your lips. “Why don’t you sleep on it and come morning, you can tell me your answer.” 

Wearing a pair of washed jeans you left at his place before the break up and one of his T-shirts, you and Jungkook walk into the Hybe building, hand-in-hand, the next day. If everything was the same way as before, you would have smiled and proudly walked by his side, but now you keep your head as low as possible, conscious about everything especially the hickeys on your neck which you hide with your hair as the old concealer you also left at his place did not provide much help. You try quickening your pace, but Jungkook ensures to take short strides, which you know is to let everyone know that you are back together again. 

When you’re finally alone in the elevator, you try to take your hand back. However, Jungkook won’t let go. You sigh in frustration. “I’m not going anywhere, Jungkook. I have to work here the whole day. So are you. You can let me go now.” 

“You still haven’t told me your answer,” he says. “I hope you know by now that I’m not the type to wait around, Y/N.” 

“What you’re asking is too much. I can’t just marry you because you want me to,” you point out, clicking your tongue. 

The elevator doors open to the fifth floor where your studio is located. You and Jungkook step out and he walks you until you reach the studio. Yang Studio is engraved on the door behind you. Jungkook lets go of your hand (finally) and holds your face with both hands, placing a soft kiss on your lips. For a moment, a split second, it feels as though the man you fell in love with has come back, but when he pulls you away, he whispers against your lips, “I’ll wait until the end of the day for your answer. You know what will happen if you don’t give me any.” 

He pushes your glasses further up your nose bridge. You say, dejectedly, “I don’t have any choice. What do you need an answer for when you already know it?” 

“Because I wanna hear it from you,” he smiles. “I’ll see you later, baby. Don’t do anything stupid. I’m watching you.” 

With one final kiss, he walks away while you’re left with a heavy feeling in your chest as you enter your studio. At least, for the time being since yesterday, you are completely alone.  You don’t mind, however, and welcome the empty studio with open arms. 

Whenever you’re working, time flies by fast. Your focus is only on the songs you’re working on for the various groups at Hybe. Currently, you’re working on one of the B-side tracks for your brother’s group, Enhypen. It wouldn’t be the first time you worked with the relatively new group. You previously worked with them for their songs Fever and Shout Out which gained positive acclaim from their fans and the public as well. Due to this response, their label asked if you could produce another B-side and you agreed right away. 

You’re in the middle of mixing Bills, the song you were working on throughout the day, when you suddenly jumped at the feeling of something cold and wet pressing against your cheeks. When you look up, you see the familiar sight of your deranged ex-boyfriend Jungkook looking down at you with his famous bunny smile, holding takeout boxes from the cafeteria and a can of lemon-flavored drink. For a split second, you almost return the smile, like you always did before Jungkook showed his true colors. He just looked like the man you fell in love with. However, you’re quick to catch yourself from falling into the trap once again. 

You deduce that the can must be what was pressed on your cheek as Jungkook grabs an empty chair and places it beside you, sitting on it, and placing the boxes and drinks on the table.

“Your time’s up like fifteen minutes ago, but since I’ve had a good day, I’ll extend it until we finish eating,” Jungkook tells you as he opens one of the boxes and the smell of tangsuyuk fills your nostrils, making your stomach grumble in anticipation. 

You look at the time on your computer, 12:17 am. You haven’t even realized it’s past midnight already. You take your glasses off as you rub your eyes while Jungkook slides the box towards you then flicks the can of soft drink on the side, a trick he swore would make the drink less carbonated, before opening it and placing it beside the dish. How can he act so sweet one minute and then be cruel the next? You take the chopstick from his hand, pulling them apart, and shift on your seat as you begin to eat. 

“What are you working on?” he asks as he prepares his own meal. 

You chew and swallow your food before answering him, feeling the need to put your glasses so you do so. It’s a comfort thing, you suppose. “Song for Enha.” 

“Yeah? What is it called?” 

“Bills,” you tell him. He glances at you, giving you a knowing look. You understand what the look means. You sigh. “It’s a song about a break up, but it’s not about our break up.”

“Why? You didn’t want to write one ‘cos you know you’ll come back to me anyway?” Jungkook asks with a chuckle. 

“No, I didn’t write any songs about our break up because it wasn’t worth it,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders as you continue eating. Instinctively, you glance at him, and you see Jungkook looking at you with his jaw tensed. You hit a nerve—you hit more than just a nerve, but perhaps his entire ego, and nothing is more fragile than a man’s ego. 

A part of you swells in pride knowing you’ve hurt his ego, but the other part of you mentally scolds yourself for saying what you said. Jungkook is a ticking time bomb; the last thing you want is for him to explode. “Sorry,” you say, sucking your teeth. “Forget I said anything. Let’s just continue eating, please.” 

“How did you go from loving me to hating me, Y/N? I’ve done nothing but love you. Why did you suddenly leave me?” Jungkook asks, his tone indicating he’s hurt which takes you aback. 

Jungkook—the man who forced himself upon you last night, who slapped you, who threatened to kill your brother if you don’t oblige to his requests and blackmailed you—hurt? It gives you a whiplash just thinking about it. He’s fucking delusional, you conclude. 

“Jungkook, you changed,” you say. “You—,”

“Just because someone you love changed doesn’t mean you leave them,” he hisses. 

“You leave when they’ve changed for the worst, Jungkook, and you changed for the worst. You became controlling,” your breathing is ragged, but you swallow the lump in your throat as you continue your tirade. 

“At first, I let it go because I loved you and I’ve known you since we were fifteen and I know how possessive you can be, but I told myself it was just because you’ve always been insecure even when you had no reason to. Then, it escalated. Suddenly, you always wanted to check my phone, always wanting to be here at my studio or wherever I am when I’m working because you’re paranoid about the people I work with, dictating what I should and shouldn’t wear, and you disrespected my boundaries when I clearly established them with you especially in sex. You no longer see me as your girlfriend or even as Y/N, your friend before being your girlfriend; you treated me like I’m an object, like I’m your property.” 

“I did all those for you, Y/N. You didn’t see what I saw. Those people you work with—that fucking Jang Yijeong and Kim Woosung—it’s clear they want you. They practically eye fuck you every time you’re in the goddamn room! You’re my girlfriend. It’s only natural that I do everything to let them know you’re mine,” Jungkook reasons, shaking his head at your tirade. 

“They’re my co-workers, Jungkook! Yijeong, he’s like family to me now much like how Yoongi is because they taught me everything I know about songwriting and producing. And Woosung? He’s my friend. I’m allowed to have male friends.” 

“You’re so naive, baby, it frustrates me so much,” he scoffs, poking his cheek with his tongue as he narrows his gaze at you. 

“Tell me there’s a part of you that understands where I’m coming from,” you desperately say, but you’re met with the coldness of his eyes. You shut your eyes tightly. “Jungkook, I broke up with you because I finally saw you for who you truly are. You don’t love me; you want to own me.”

“I told you I’ll show you how devoted I am to you,” Jungkook quips, chuckling to himself. You shiver at his lighthearted disposition. “I love you, Y/N. It’s only right that I get to you all to myself because I’m all yours.” 

“You don’t own the people you love,” you say, sighing in resignation. “And you don’t threaten them and their loved ones with death and career ruining photos.” 

Jungkook spins your chair and pulls you close to him. He traps your thighs in between his as he cups your face with his strong veiny hands. “Baby, I’m the only loved one in your life that you should care about. Your brother—he’s old enough to fend for himself. You don’t need him anymore.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you ask, nose flaring. “He’s my family, Jungkook. He will always be my family.” 

“But he doesn’t need you anymore, Y/N. When was the last time you even talked to him? When was the last time he talked to you? All this time, you’re asking me to erase all photos of him drinking while underage in Vegas and smoking weed on top of that, but have you stopped to ask yourself: Why did Jungwon do it? Do you even really know your brother?” Jungkook caresses your cheek. 

You’re speechless. You haven’t thought about that. He smiles, placing a chaste kiss on your lips. He tastes like the tangsuyuk he also ordered for himself. “Why don’t you ask him why he did what he did?” 

“Jungwon would never do something illegal. For all I know, you fucking manipulated him in doing that shit to get back at me!” you slap his hands away from your face and you rise from your seat, pointing your finger at him. “I swear to God if I find out you manipulated him in doing it, I will—,” 

“I thought it was already established that nobody will believe you anyway. The police? I give a shit ton of money to that shitty force everyday. Hybe? Baby, I’m one of the reasons this company even exists. Media? Fans? The public? Who’s going to believe you over someone they’ve watched grow up right before their eyes? Who’s going to believe you over their golden maknae?” 

You clench your fists. “You’re not as powerful as you think. Get over your fucking self.” 

He smacks his lips. “We’ll see about that. Good night, my love.” 

Then, he simply leaves, with only the half-eaten tangsuyuk and unopened can of soft drink as remnants that Jeon Jungkook was even here. 

It’s been a while since the last time you saw Jungwon. His is longer and back to black which you thought suited him the best. He’s gotten taller too and the way he carries himself now is different than he used to before. Or maybe, he’s just forever the shy baby brother in your mind. You asked him to meet you at your apartment, telling him that you informed their manager beforehand but to let the two of you talk privately. 

His manager dropped him off at your place, dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants, a navy blue hoodie, and white sneakers that he left by your doorway. 

“Why do you wanna meet at the crack of dawn, noona?” Jungwon asks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

You go straight to the point. “You went drinking and smoked marijuana in Vegas.” 

He tenses, pressing his lips, his dimples appearing on his cheeks. Then, he clicks his tongue and sighs deeply. “I really didn’t want you to find out, but I’m guessing Jungkook hyung told you.” 

“Why didn’t you want me to find out?” you ask, pushing your glasses further up your nose bridge. 

“Why do you think, noona? You’re going to overreact, of course. It was just one time and it’s not like I’m the only one who does shit like that. Everyone does it too. Besides, Jungkook hyung already took care of it and Hybe too.” There is irritation in his voice and he doesn’t bother to hide it. 

This makes you angry. “Overreact? I’m entitled to overreact about this, Jungwon. Do you realize the weight of your actions? You are not allowed to drink in the States until you’re 21 and you’re certainly not allowed to smoke fucking marijuana because you’re Korean! The law still applies to you even when you’re abroad. It’s a crime for you to even be holding it, Jungwon. What the hell? Just because everyone else is doing it doesn’t mean you have to do it too!” 

“See, this is what I’m talking about. You know what, I’m not going to do this right now, noona. I have a busy schedule later and I’m—,” 

“No,” you snap. “You’re staying here and we are going to talk about this. You have to understand the weight of your actions, Jungwon. What you did can land you in jail. What you did can ruin your career and you will never be able to recover from it. All the hard work and sacrifices you made to be where you are now—all of that will go to waste because of this. This is serious. Why the hell did you do it?” 

Jungwon scoffs in disbelief, tilting his head to the side. “You know, you’ve done a pretty good job ignoring what I do in my personal life for the past couple of years, noona. Why the hell are you suddenly interested? Tell me, you’re not really worried about me, right? You’re about you and your fucking career.” 

“That’s not true. Jungwon, I’ve not been ignoring you. Are you fucking serious right now? I worked my ass off for years for you! Because we only got each other in this goddamn world! Because someone has to step up and raise you otherwise you’ll just rot in foster care. Someone has to be the grown up!” 

“Yeah? In your eyes, maybe. But have you stopped to look at it from my perspective? You made me feel like I was just some responsibility. I needed you to be my sister,” Jungwon clenches his jaw. “All those times you scolded me for not attending practices and taekwondo because I rather play with my friends, all those times you harshly critiqued me on my singing even when I know I did a good job but you didn’t want the others to see you favoring me, because you never thought I was enough, all those fucking times I came to you to tell you how hard it was being on that survival show, on being a trainee because you’re my sister and when you started dating Jungkook hyung—what did you do, noona?” 

You feel your throat tightening and your eyes burning with tears. All the memories of those times he listed running through your mind. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Jungwon laughs emptily. 

“You were supposed to tell me it’s fine I skip practices and taekwondo and play with my friends instead because it was so suffocating being in the practice studio all the time, you were supposed to tell me I did good when I did good and not hold back because you’re afraid of other people’s opinions of you, you were supposed to comfort me and tell me you might not understand what I’m going through but you believed in me because I’m your brother when I was on I-Land, and you were supposed to tell me first before anyone else that you’re dating my senior and not let me find out on the news. You were supposed to be my sister. Not my mother, not my producer. My sister.”

Both of you are crying, but Jungwon wipes his tears harshly with the sleeves of his hoodie. “You haven’t treated me like a brother for years. You don’t get to just decide on being a sister to me again because of this. You wanna know why I did it? It’s because I just wanna feel good even for one fucking second. I feel so fucking pressured to live up to your standards. I never—I never asked for any of this. I only became a trainee, became an idol because I thought, maybe, when I finally become one, you’ll finally notice me again. Maybe you’ll be proud to have me as your brother again. Maybe I’ll be good enough then for the great Yang Y/N.” 

Your heart shatters. You place your hands on your chest, a fresh set of hot tears streaming down your face. “Jungwon, I-I’ve always been proud of you. Always.”

He shakes his head. “No, you haven’t.” 

“I have,” you say, stepping closer to him but he backs away. “Jungwon, you’re my brother. I love you and I’m sorry I’ve not been the sister you needed. I don’t—,” you suck in a sharp shaky breath. “How can I make it up to you?” 

“I don’t know,” he breathes out. “But just—just leave me alone.” 

“Jungwon,” you call out but your brother’s already gone. 

You find yourself standing in front of Jungkook’s front door. The security at his high-rise, gated condominium community easily let you in, knowing you were the idol at the penthouse’s girlfriend and because Jungkook had already informed them to let you pass through whenever you visited. It’s 4:18 am on your phone, a little over an hour since your conversation with Jungwon. While you were crying on the floor of your apartment, you suddenly remembered the deadline—Jungkook’s deadline—and you got up immediately to go to his house. 

On the taxi ride to Jungkook’s, your mind replayed Jungwon’s words over and over again. 

You made me feel like I’m just some responsibility. I needed you to be my sister. I never wanted any of this. I feel so fucking pressured to live up to your standards. Maybe you’ll be proud to have me as your brother again. Maybe I’ll be good enough then for the great Yang Y/N. 

The heaviness you’re carrying in your chest is indescribable. The guilt of knowing you’re the reason he did those things and not because Jungkook or anyone else forced or manipulated him to—it’s intense. It’s you who caused this mess. It’s you who neglected your brother in the pursuit of making sure you stay together. 

That’s what you promised your grandmother before she passed away when you were fourteen, three years after your own parents died in a car accident on the way to celebrate their thirteenth wedding anniversary. You promised her that you wouldn’t let anyone separate the two of you so at just the young age of fourteen, you were forced to leave all childhood pursuits behind and grow up. Whenever you weren’t at school, you were working part-time jobs to sustain yours and Jungwon’s needs. You stayed with a distant aunt, but you were determined to be his legal guardian the moment you turned 18. 

So, when the opportunity for you to become a producer at BigHit at fifteen, you took it—packing everything in your hometown and moving to Seoul, temporarily leaving him. Then, at the age of thirteen, Jungwon moved to Seoul with you as a trainee. Looking back, you didn’t even stop to ask him if that was what he really wanted or if he even wanted to live in Seoul. You just took his word as it was and didn’t even question it. 

You ruined your brother’s life; you just hope there is still time for you to fix it. To make amends. To be his sister again. 

The familiar sound of his door unlocking rings in the silent hallway. Jungkook is the only one on this floor, given he lives at the very top of the building at the penthouse. You push the white door open, greeted by a corridor and an array of shoes and slippers on the shoe rack on the side. You take off your sneakers, place them neatly beside the rack and make your way down to the corridor to find Jungkook, his bare back facing you as he drinks something from his fridge. Black Calvin Klein boxers modestly cover his bottoms. 

“I know I’m late, but I’ll do it, Jungkook,” you say. “I’ll marry you.” 

“Like you said, you’re late. I already sent the photos to the Chief of the Seoul Police Department anonymously, of course,” Jungkook replies, turning to face you. He looks at you with disinterest in his eyes. “So you can leave now. You’ve made your choice and now you have to live with the consequences of it.” 

Your heart sinks in your stomach. “Are you—Are you serious? Did you really send the pictures to the police?” 

“You think I was bluffing the entire time?” Jungkook laughs. “You underestimate me, Y/N.” 

This can’t be happening. You walk towards him over the counter. “Jungkook, please, don’t. He’s just a kid. Prison won’t do him any good and fuck—the public. Please. He’s already going through enough as it is. Please don’t let him go through this.” 

“He’s twenty, Y/N. He knows what he’s doing,” Jungkook deadpans. “Leave. I’m sure you would want to be there once the police arrest Jungwon.” 

“Jungkook, please,” you hold his arm, pleading. “I’m sorry, okay? For breaking up with you, for leaving you, for not appreciating your love and devotion to me. I’m sorry for everything. Please—punish me instead, hm? Leave my brother alone. Please.” 

You don’t even know when you got on your knees while holding onto Jungkook’s arm and sobbing, head hanging low. “Please, Kook…” 

Jungkook turns to face you, causing your arms to fall on your side. He lifts your head by your chin with his index and middle fingers and you stare at him through your oval shaped spectacles. He wipes your tears with his thumbs then grazes one over your lips, making you taste the salty liquid. 

“You’re so pretty when you’re on your knees, begging, and crying, baby…” Jungkook trails, putting more pressure on your lips. “Things didn’t have to go this far if you just did everything I say, right?” 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Yes, you’re right.” 

His lips twitch, but he stops himself from breaking into a smile. “Why do you have to be so stubborn, Y/N? It’s not a good trait to have when you become my wife.” 

My wife. Those two words send shivers down your spine. “I-I won’t be s-stubborn anymore. Please don’t let them arrest Jungwon. He’s so young and he’s still got so much to live for.” 

Jungkook hums. “Yeah? So, you’ll do everything I say from now on?” 

You resign to your fate. “I will.” 

“Then put this mouth to good use and suck my cock, you fucking slut.” 

The switch is on. You take a deep breath, shutting your eyes as you grab the waistband of his boxers. He’s already hard and leaking with precum. Did he get turned on by you begging and crying on your knees? The thought repulses you, but you shake it away. This is your fate now. 

His cock springs free from his boxers, and you wrap your hand around the base, before licking your lips, and wrapping it around his tip—slowly licking his precum while you jerk him off. You try to focus your mind elsewhere to make Jungkook feel that you want this. So, you settle on the times you actually wanted to suck his dick and make him feel good. 

Jungkook gathers your hair in his hand, eyebrows furrowed as he looks down at you moving your pace in a quicker manner, swirling around your tongue on his tip, and length. He finds the sight of you sucking his cock while wearing those glasses incredibly hot. 

Once you’ve adjusted your mouth to his side, you begin to deepthroat him, making Jungkook hiss in pleasure and tighten his grip around your hair, tugging on it as you go deeper every time. 

“Look at me,” he orders. You look up at him while you continue to suck him. “Keep your eyes on me while I fuck your throat, okay?” 

You nod and he smirks as he thrusts in your mouth once. You make another gag noise. Jungkook begins to relentlessly pound your mouth, throwing his head back in pleasure. You hold onto his muscular thighs, breathing through your nose as you close your eyes momentarily but Jungkook catches this and taps your cheek. 

“Told you to keep your eyes on me, right? It’s like you’re asking to be fucked hard every damn time,” he says through gritted teeth. 

So, his pace becomes faster. About a few more thrusts, Jungkook announces that he’s gonna cum but while you expected to swallow his cum like last time—Jungkook pulls away, jerks his cock with one hand while the other remains on your hair. He pulls your head back as his cum squirts all over your face. 

The white liquid is all over your glasses and Jungkook wipes some on your lips using the tip of his cock. 

“Just pretty,” he says as you hear a camera snap. “I think I’ll make this my new lockscreen.” 

You feel humiliated and disgusted as he lets go of your hair and types something on his phone. You get up on your feet, take your glasses off and stare at it covered in Jungkook’s cum. You lick your lips and taste the salty substance. Jungkook then places his phone on the counter and wraps his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulders. 

“I’m happy you’re finally back to your senses. I can’t wait to marry you, love.” 

“Can I tell my brother first before announcing it to the public?” you ask, lowering your head as you fight the urge to cry. “I just don’t want him to find out on the news.” 

“How are you going to do that? Jungwon doesn’t want anything to do with you. That’s why he left your apartment, right?” You stiffen at his remark. Jungkook chuckles. “Baby, did you really think I would keep my eyes off you even when you’re not with me? I love you. I love you so fucking much that the thought of you not anywhere near me makes me go crazy. So, I had to do it—I had to put cameras around your apartment to see you, to protect you, to know if you’re bringing some bastard home and then kill him before he can even scream for help. That’s how much I love you, Y/N. Who else is going to love you like I do?” 

“Y/N noona! What are you doing here?” Sunoo, one of Jungwon’s members and friends, greets you with his infectious smile as he opens the door to their dormitory. “Come inside, please.” 

“Thanks Sunoo,” you tell him with a smile as you take his offer and enter. Leaving your shoes at the doorway, you ask Sunoo, “Is Jungwon around? I was hoping I could talk to him.” 

“Yes. He’s in our room. Would you like something to eat or drink, noona? Jay hyung is cooking something in the kitchen,” the dark-haired boy offers. 

You reach their living room and sure enough, you smell something sweet in their air. “It’s okay, Sunoo. I don’t think I’ll stay long anyway. Is it through here?” 

Sunoo nods. “Yes. Second door to the right.” 

“Thank you,” you tell him before making your way down the short corridor and knocking on the second door to the right. 

“Come in!” you hear Jungwon exclaim on the other side. You take a deep breath before opening the door and seeing him lying on one of the bunk beds, scrolling through his phone. “Is the food ready, hyu—Noona? What are you doing here?” 

You give him a small smile, shutting the door behind you and remaining on the spot beside it, hands behind your back. “Is it okay if I talk to you? I have something I want to say.” 

He sits on his bed, placing his phone beside him. “I don’t really want to talk, but since you’re here, what choice do I have?” His tone is harsh and irritated which you expected. 

“I’ll make it quick then. I wanted to let you know before you see it on the news anywhere that Jungkook and I—we’re getting married. We’re engaged.” 

His eyebrow furrowed deeply. “What? I thought you two aren’t together anymore.” 

You inhale deeply, lips pressed tightly. “We got back together and now we’re engaged.” 

“Why?” he asks, genuinely confused. 

“Why not?” you quip, hoping to lighten the tension brewing between the two of you. 

“I don’t know, noona, maybe because it’s marriage. It’s serious. Have you thought about this? Like really thought about this?” 

“Yes, Jungwon. I have,” you say, hoping your tone is convincing enough—for your brother or for yourself is still up for debate. “It’s what I came here to tell you.” 

Jungwon sighs deeply, shaking his head. “What the fuck.” You don’t blame him for his reaction. You watch as he runs his fingers through his hair then lifts his head to look at you. “When is the wedding then?” 

You press your back against the cold wall behind you. “Not sure yet but it’s going to be within this year, for sure.” 

He nods. “This doesn’t make any sense to me. How can you break up with someone, get back together with them, and then marry them?” He lets out a small laugh. 

Your heart clenches and your eyes soften. “Jungwon,” you call out softly. “I’m sorry for everything. For not being a sister to you all these years. I just—I thought I was doing the right thing, but I never stopped to consider your true feelings about everything.” 

He breathes in sharply, rising from his bed. “We’re not doing this here, noona.” 

Your eyes shake as you bite your lower lip. “Please Jungwon? Please let me make it up to you.” 

“How? By marrying my senior? Did you even stop to think about how this will affect not only me but the other members as well? It’s bad enough that you dated him, noona. We’re still suffering from hate because of your relationship. Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to you? How can you be so selfish all the fucking time, noona?” 

Selfish. One word that stabs you over and over again the more it echoes in your mind. 

“Leave. Now. I don’t want to speak to you ever again. I will be as professional as I can, but that’s all we’re ever going to be. Professionals. You’re not my sister anymore. We’re not family anymore. We’ve never been one in years anyway. From now on, just stay away from me unless it’s for work. I—,” Jungwon stops and then shakes his head one more time. “Just go, Y/N.” 

BTS Jungkook and Yang Y/N are engaged 

In an Instagram post uploaded by BTS member Jungkook, 26, he announced that he is engaged to his long-time girlfriend, producer Yang Y/N, 26. 

“I fell in love with you the moment I met you and now, I can’t wait to fall in love with you more as my future wife and mother to our children,” The youngest BTS member said in the caption of his Instagram post featuring several photos of Yang and him throughout their years as a couple. “I am excited to begin this new chapter with you and to explore all remaining chapters until the end where we’re wrinkly and old, surrounded by the family we’ve made through the years.” 

Jungkook also shares a message to his fans, ARMYs. “To ARMYs, I know this might come as a shock to you as I am the youngest in Bangtan, but for those who have been with me from the start, I’m sure you know that I’ve always been someone who wears my heart on my sleeve. I hope to have your love and support on this new journey in my life as you have always given me through the years.” 

The ‘Seven’ singer ended his caption by thanking his fans, his members, and Yang Y/N. “Once again, thank you ARMYs, thank you to my hyungs, and thank you to Yang Y/N for accepting me as her partner for life.” 

Jungkook and Yang Y/N have been together for four years before getting engaged. Yang serves as one of BTS’ producers, producing some of their songs including ‘Hold Me Tight’, ‘Fire’, ‘Ma City’, ‘Spring Day’, and their latest comeback ‘Run BTS’, among others. She has also worked on Jungkook’s solo album particularly on songs ‘Yes or No’ and ‘Seven.’ 

You don’t think you’ve seen this many people gathered in a hall. You’ve lost count on how many times you bowed and shook hands with the guests Jungkook invited to your engagement party and your face hurts from the fake smiles you’ve put on for everyone. From his family to his industry friends, to the executives of Hybe and those of his and Bangtan’s endorsements to all artists at the company, including your brother who is seated beside you, and staff of Hybe—it seems like everyone is here tonight. 

Jungkook hasn’t let you out of his sight since the night began, always having his arm around your waist, tattooed hand placed conservatively on your hip or on your thigh when the two of you are sitting down. He’d constantly caress your thigh and place soft kisses on your cheek, behind your ear, on your shoulder, and even on your neck for everyone to see. He plays the doting fiance very well; the maniacal shadow is completely hidden tonight. 

You don’t know how he managed to put this party together, but you’re not surprised either. What Jungkook wants, Jungkook gets. His persistence is unmatched, as you regretfully realized later rather than sooner. 

It’s when Jungkook is suddenly whisked away by the CEO of Calvin Klein that you take the opportunity to excuse yourself, saying you need to use the restroom. Despite the warning state in your fiance’s eyes, you give him a small tight-lipped smile before making your way out of the hall and towards the stairs leading up to the rooftop of Hybe’s building—a sanctuary you go to whenever you feel the world on your shoulders. You grip on the railings tightly, hair blowing backwards by the chilly October air, creating goosebumps all over your body. You could hear your own heartbeat and feel the tightness of your chest as you take deep breaths to prevent yourself from spiraling into a panic attack. You don’t even remember the last time you experienced one, but when you’re finally alone—everything sinks in. 

You’re getting married to Jeon Jungkook. Your own brother despises you. You’re completely on your own. The moment you walk down the aisle, you’re forever trapped in the insanity that is Jeon Jungkook. Suddenly, all the worst case scenarios plague your mind and your heartbeat races quickly more than ever before. 

You should have seen the warning signs. It’s been there since the day Jungkook started showing his more than friends affection towards you. Hindsight is, indeed, twenty-twenty, and now you’re reaping the false belief you sowed about the man you once loved. 

You should have known that his persistence and devotion in courting you after you rejected him for a multitude of reasons are not acts of love, but obsession. That his efforts from courting you—giving you your favorite flowers every single day, his good morning and good night texts, and planning your dates—were just acts of love bombing to exploit your already growing feelings for him. 

And when you finally said yes and he announces your relationship to the public, despite your repeated protests that it was too soon—it wasn’t to show his fans, the public, the industry, and the entire world that he was proud to be in a relationship with you or to set a precedent in normalizing dating in the industry; it was to show them that you were his and his alone. 

By the time your rose-colored glasses shattered, it was too late. You’ve already entered the lion’s den and there is no way out. 

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” At the sound of the familiar husky voice of Kim Woosung, you turn around, eyes wide, one hand tightly gripping the railing while the other placed over your right chest. His sharp features soften at the sight of your panicked state and he cautiously makes his way towards you. “Y/N? Is everything okay?” 

You open your mouth, but the words don’t come out. Your entire body feels rigid. You want to cry, to scream, to run as fast as you can away from all of these—but you remain on your spot, mute. Woosung presses his lips as he now stands mere inches away from you. The smell of his favorite cologne fills your nostrils. 

“You don’t have to say anything, but if you need a hug, if you need a friend, I’m right here, Y/N. I’m always going to be right here,” he tells you softly, meeting your wide gaze. 

You want to reach out to him, to accept his offer of a hug, but you don’t want to take your chances. You don’t know how long you’ve been gone, but knowing Jungkook—even a minute is long enough. It’s only a matter of time before he goes out and find you. You cannot take the risk of him seeing you with another man, especially Woosung, someone he’s already voiced out he’s jealous of. 

With that thought, you come back to your senses. You exhale deeply, licking your lower lips as you shake your head. “I-I’m fine, Woosung.” 

“Okay,” he replies, nodding slowly. “I just saw you dashing out of the hall, looking frantic, and I got worried so I followed you out.” 

“Yeah, I guess, um, I guess I just feel overwhelmed by all the people in there,” you say. 

“I can see that. I didn’t even know you can fit that many people inside the hall,” Woosung chuckles, placing his hands on the cold railing. For a while, the two of you just stand in silence, letting the breeze and the bustling city below you fill in. Then, Woosung breaks it with a heartbreaking tone saying, “Don’t marry him, Y/N. Please don’t.” 

You’d be a fool not to admit that since you met Woosung three years ago through Yoongi, you’d been oblivious to his affections for you. He wasn’t exactly subtle about it, but he was also respectful of your relationship with Jungkook that he didn’t try to impose himself on you. Then, when you broke up with Jungkook, he took the chance to finally confess his feelings for you. 

Woosung is the complete opposite of Jungkook. He’s gentle, he’s kind, he respects you and your boundaries, he makes you laugh, he makes you feel secure, and his affection towards you doesn’t feel suffocating. A walking green flag, as they call it these days, and in another life where you have the freedom to choose who to love—you’ll love him. But alas, this is your life now. 

“Woosung, please don’t,” you breathe out, hanging your head low as you shake it. “I’m going to marry Jungkook.” 

“You don’t love him, Y/N. I know you. I see you. You don’t love him because why would you be here if you do?” Woosung points out, his tone remaining level. He’s not one to raise his voice; he’s always calm and composed. Another thing that makes him different from Jungkook. 

“Woosung, let’s go back. Let’s not talk about this anymore,” you say as you turn around and make your way to the door. 

“Marry me instead,” he declares behind you. You stop on your tracks, breath hitches. “If it’s marriage you want, marry me instead, Y/N.” 

You look at him over your shoulder. He’s standing in the same spot, but facing you with the moonlight and fluorescent lights shining on his honest and genuine face. You take him all in with your eyes—dressed in a pair of black pants, shoes, satin dress shirt, and a black coat over it. His hair’s longer now, but still black and messy. A silver necklace adorns his neck and through his unbuttoned top, the tip of his cross tattoo on his chest is peeking. 

You shake your head.

He takes a deep breath as he slips his hands in his pockets, tilting his head to the side as he shuts his eyes. Then, he nods as he traces the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Alright. I understand. But Y/N, can you just—can you look me in the eye and tell me marrying him, being with him is what you really want? Can you do that for me and I swear, I’ll let go of all my feelings for you by the time the sun rises tomorrow. But if there’s even a slight doubt, please be with me instead.” 

“I don’t deserve you, Woosung. I’m sorry. I can’t,” you tell him. 

“What are we doing here?” you ask Jungkook two weeks later. It’s late at night, past midnight, and you’re being led to the back of Ignorantia, a club at Gangnam which you know Jungkook is an investor of, followed by several of his bodyguards. He’s dressed in a black dress shirt with yellow floral prints on it, black jeans, and his signature black boots. 

“I told you, I wanna show you something, baby,” Jungkook replies, looking over his shoulder to flash you a smile. 

Eyebrows scrunched, you decide not to say anything more until you reach the end of the corridor and one of Jungkook’s bodyguards opens the door. “After you, mi lady,” your fiance chuckles, feigning chivalry by lowering himself as he extends his arm out toward the room. 

The moment you enter the room, your entire body is coated with unprecedented fear. Tied to a metal chair, bloody and bruised, is none other than Kim Woosung. The door behind you slams shut, making you jump, and with frantic eyes, you turn to Jungkook. “What is going on here?” you ask. 

At the sound of your voice, from the corner of your eyes, you see Woosung lift his head—albeit painfully. You don’t wait for Jungkook’s answer and rush to Woosung’s side, kneeling in front of him as tears pool your eyes at the sight of his beaten up self. But Woosung being Woosung, he plasters a small smile on his bloody lips. One of his eyes is already swollen shut, but you know he’s looking at you. 

“I’m sorry, Woosung…” It’s all you can say, shaking your head as you stand on your feet, wiping your tears with the back of your hands. “Stop this. He hasn’t done anything to deserve this, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook’s expression remains cold and stoic. He’s standing a few feet across from you and Woosung, hands deep in his pockets. “He brought it upon himself the moment he asked you to marry him instead and you considered.” 

“What the hell are you talking about? I’m marrying you! For fuck’s sake, Jungkook, this has gone way too far. Stop this insanity already. You’re hurting innocent people!” 

“Trying to take another person’s belonging doesn’t make you innocent,” Jungkook hisses, pulling his sleeves up to his elbows. His bodyguard hands him something metal and you watch as he slips on the brass knuckles in both his hands. “I know none of us here are Catholics, but since he’s got that cross tattooed on his chest, maybe Woosung knows to some degree that one of the Ten Commandments is thou shalt not steal, am I right, Woosung?” 

Jungkook begins to walk towards the weak Woosung and you step in front of him, breathing heavily. “Jungkook, don’t do this. He’s done nothing wrong. Fuck, please, just let him go. You already have me. What more do you want?” 

“I want this fucker to know that you’re mine and I want you to fucking carve it in your head that you’re mine!” he bellows. “Now step away. This is the last time I’m asking nicely.” 

When you refuse, Jungkook pushes you aside, making you land on the floor. This triggers Woosung to muster whatever strength he had left to let out an animalistic growl before prancing at Jungkook only for the latter’s brass knuckles hit his face. You scream for Jungkook to stop, but his bodyguard traps you with his strong arms, and you’re forced to watch as Jungkook mercilessly lands punch after punch at Woosung’s face and body. 

“Fuck!” Jungkook yells as he lands one final punch at Woosung’s face which you don’t even recognize anymore before stepping away from him, panting. He faces you—Woosung’s blood covering his face and with a maniacal smile plastered on his lips. He drops the brass knuckles on the floor then he gives a signal to his bodyguard to let you go. 

Once you’re out of the bodyguard’s grip, you lunge at Jungkook and repeatedly hit him while sobbing, screaming all profanities that you can think of. He doesn’t stop you and let you hit him wherever you want. Then, the exhaustion takes over and you fall on your knees before him. 

“I’m done playing nice. I guess being nice doesn’t really get you the respect you deserve. How naive of me,” Jungkook says after a while. He lowers himself to meet your eyes. He grabs your face and forces his lips on you. You push him away, slapping him as you taste Woosung’s blood on your lips. A lopsided smirk appears on his lips. “Jo, can you bring our other friend inside? I think it’s time for Y/N’s punishment.” 

“Yes, Mr. Jeon.” 

Moments later, you perk up at the sound of a very familiar voice echoing in the room. You stand, heart sinking in your stomach as you see Jungwon with his hands tied behind his back and duct tape around his mouth. A gun is pressed against his temple. His eyes are wide and terrified, and once they meet yours, a muffled sound comes out of his taped mouth. You believe he said ‘Noona!’ Jungwon struggles against Jo’s grip and Jungkook traps you in his.

His hot breath fans over your ear as he whispers, “Time to choose, Y/N. Which one would you rather save? Jungwon, the brother who has already disowned you? Or Woosung, the man who loves you? You can’t have both—that’s just the rule of the world, my love.” 

“Why are you doing this?” you sob, shaking your head. 

“Because you need to learn who is in control,” he tells you. “Because you need to learn what happens when you so much as think of another man other than me. Because I want to be the only one you think about. And frankly, because it’s fun. Seeing you cry, begging for mercy—it makes me so hard, don’t you feel it?” 

You, unfortunately, do feel his erection. It makes your stomach churn. “Then please stop this, Jungkook. Don’t make me choose. Let them go and I will be the perfect wife to you. I will do everything—quit my job, move wherever with you, do everything you want me to do. I’ll live the rest of my life being devoted to you and you alone.” 

He hums in your ear, pressing his clothed hard cock more in your ass. “That sounds lovely. But you still need to choose otherwise both of them will die tonight.” 

“No, no, no, please. Please don’t make me do this,” you beg. 

Jungkook begins counting down. “Ten, nine, eight, seven…” 

“Stop! Please! Don’t!” you thrash in his grip as he continues counting.

“Six, five, four, three…” 

You break. “Two—,” 

“Jungwon! I choose Jungwon,” you exclaim, limping against Jungkook’s chest. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook whispers in your ear, placing a kiss on your earlobe. “Come here, baby. Time for you to act out your choice.” 

Jungkook turns you to Woosung’s beaten body on the floor. He’s still breathing, seeing his chest rising. You don’t know if he heard you choose Jungwon over him and the thought is too much to bear. No matter how goodness he has in his heart, would he be able to forgive you for your decision? Jungkook places a gun in your hand; the coldness of it makes you jump. He chuckles, wrapping his hand around yours on the handle before he guides you to point it at Woosung. 

Behind, Jungwon is screaming. 

“You just need to pull the trigger, baby, and everything will go back to the way it was. Remember, if you don’t do this now, it’s Jungwon’s funeral.” 

“Y/N…” Woosung manages to croak out as he coughs out blood. 

“Sung…” you call out, sobbing once more. “S-Sorry… Sung…” 

“I l-love y—,” 

Bang! You scream at the loud sound that echoes through the room and Woosung is no more. 

Growing up, you never really pictured or imagined how your wedding would look like. You didn’t even think about getting married in the first place, having been exposed early on to the harsh realities of life, and forced to enter the workforce when you were only fifteen to make ends meet. Your life revolved around work, Jungwon, more work, and more Jungwon. Now, as you stare at yourself wearing a custom made traditional Vera Wang white satin tube wedding gown with a long veil trailing behind you, and holding a bouquet of baby’s breath and white roses, you’re overwhelmed with the implications of what is about to come. 

Today, you’re marrying Jungkook in front of hundreds of people inside a huge garden and more people watching in the comfort of their own home because Jungkook allowed for the ceremony to be broadcasted nationwide and internationally as witnesses to your holy matrimony. In a few minutes, you’ll be walking down the aisle with your brother by your side and your fate will be ultimately sealed in front of the thousands of people watching the ceremony. Suddenly, the rest of your life flashes before your eyes. 

A life of loneliness, isolation, servitude to Jungkook and all his needs. You’ll no longer be Yang Y/N, the music producer. You’ll now be Yang Y/N, Jeon Jungkook’s wife. A decade of hard work and sacrifices down the drain—all because you let yourself naively walk a lion’s den. Not only that, you also got an innocent’s blood on your hands. 

Five months had passed since that night and yet the memories are still as vivid as if it’s only yesterday that you pulled the trigger that ended Woosung’s life. Woosung, the man who loved you unconditionally. Woosung, the man who loved you until his dying breath. You can still hear his voice in your head at times, still get flashes of the image of his face—both the ones where he was smiling and alive and the one where he was beaten to a pulp and ultimately killed with a gunshot. 

No one besides you, Jungwon, Jungkook’s bodyguards, and Jungkook himself know the real reason why Kim Woosung is dead. Jungkook’s connection ran deep with the police that until now, his death was still unsolved, a speck of dust in the myriad of cold cases in the district of Seoul. He had forced you and Jungwon to attend the funeral and it fucked you and your brother up, watching as his parents, especially his mother, broke down at the fate her son suffered. 

It didn’t help that his mother went to you and told you Woosung had spoken so highly of you every time, both as a friend, a colleague, and a person. You threw up afterwards. Jungwon, on the other hand, was traumatized. He formed night terrors, having to go in an indefinite hiatus from his group activities and be checked into a psychiatric facility for attempting suicide. 

It’s only now, on your wedding day, that he’s been given permission from his psychiatrist to be let out. His nurse keeps an eye out on him the entire time along with a security guard in case he tries to kill himself or escape. You know they’re appointed by Jungkook, but fortunately, they are far enough for you and your brother to have some privacy. 

“You don’t have to do this, noona,” Jungwon whispers as he stands beside you. He’s dressed in a black suit, hair neatly styled, showing off his handsome features. He significantly lost weight; you can easily tell by his hollow cheeks. “You can run. We can run. We can go abroad and tell the truth to the public.” 

“I’m afraid this is the only way, Won,” you say, hanging your head low. “He’s got eyes and ears everywhere. There’s no place in the world that we can go and hide. He’ll find us eventually and we’ll be doomed.” 

“But you can’t stay with him too,” Jungwon is desperate, terrified now. “Noona, he—he killed Woosung hyung.” His tone is barely above whisper when he says those words. 

“I know,” you reply. Then, you lift your head and smile at him, wrapping your arm around his shoulder. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be fine. I’m going to be alright. Just focus on you, okay?” 

He suddenly hugs you, burying his face in the crook of your neck like he always did when he was little. You hug him back just as tight, squeezing your eyes tight. You don’t want to think that this may be the last time you’ll get to be this close to Jungwon, but your gut says otherwise. So, you take all of him in and hope that he feels all your love, all your apologies, all your care at that moment. 

“I love you, noona. I’m sorry for being a bad brother.” 

You shake your head. “No, you’re not. I’m sorry for not being the sister you needed.” 

“No, noona—,” 

“No, Jungwon, I recognize it now. Everything you said that night—how I scolded you for not practicing with the other trainees and attending your taekwondo lessons, for never saying you did well even when you did because I didn’t want the others to see me as being biased, for not telling you Jungkook and I were dating, for being everything but a sister to you, I’m sorry. I failed you, Won, I’m sorry.” 

“Noona, please, I don’t want you to die,” he cries. “He’ll kill you, I just know it. He’s done it before.”

“Shh, I won’t let him. I’ll stay alive, so please promise me that you will, too, okay Won?” You hold his face in your hands and he nods. “We’ll get out. Someday. I’ll get us out.” 

“Ms. Yang, we’re ready for you.” 

You nod at the assistant of the wedding planner. Then, you and Jungwon follow her out of the hotel room you’re staying at, then ride the elevator down to the VIP parking where the white Mercedes-Benz bridal car is waiting for you. Immediately after stepping inside, the driver drives toward the wedding venue. All the time, Jungwon holds your hand. There are no more words spoken between the two of you, aware of the prying eyes and ears. The drive isn’t that long and soon, you find yourself at the entrance of the grand garden—where fans and media gather behind the barricades. Upon seeing the bridal car, they erupt into a frenzy. 

You meet your brother’s eyes and squeeze his hand. Trust me, you want to say, and hope your eyes are expressive enough to let him know. He nods and he steps outside the vehicle. He helps you out afterwards, and all you hear are the screams and the resounding echo of the media’s frenzied camera shots. 

The assistant leads you and Jungwon up the stairs. Then, she instructs you both to smile, bow, and wave at the fans and media outside before continuing your way upstairs. There’s a courtyard that you pass through before you reach the door where everyone is waiting for you. 

“We have arrived. Stand by in two minutes while we retouch the makeup of the bride and her brother,” the assistant speaks through her microphone. Once the makeup artists are finished retouching yours and Jungwon’s make up, she gives the signal that you’re ready, and you hear the familiar melodies of the traditional wedding march. “Ms. Yang, Mr. Yang, you may enter.” 

You tighten your grip around Jungwon’s arm and he holds your hand as the doors open, revealing the vast sea of people on either side of the aisle. With each step, you see familiar and unfamiliar faces of people. There are the Hybe artists, seniors and juniors, the executives, Bangtan’s staff since their debut, Bangtan themselves, some of Jungkook’s industry friends—Jung Jaehyun, Cha Eunwoo, Kim Yugyeom, Bambam—his parents, few close relatives, his brother and his wife. Most of them, however, are strangers to you. 

You don’t even realize that you and Jungwon are walking slower than the beat. At that moment, only the two of you are in sync. Neither of you wanted to reach the end of the aisle where your groom is waiting dressed impeccably in a custom made three-piece Louis Vuitton black and white suit, dark long hair slicked back, piercings on. There is no denying his god-like beauty as he stands tall and proud at the altar; beside him is Yoongi, his best man. His dark eyes watch your every move. His gaze is the only one you can feel on you. 

You know he’s challenging you. Walk slower, he probably thinks. You’ll end up beside me anyway. And you did. You reach the altar and Jungkook takes your arm from Jungwon whom he also gives a hug and a firm handshake. You don’t fail to notice Jungwon’s rigid reaction. Jungkook doesn’t care and he wraps your arm around his as he leads you to the center of the aisle where a priest awaits to officiate the wedding—or to you, your lifelong sentence. 

The beginning of the ceremony is a blur to you. The priest went on about how sacred marriage and how everyone is gathered to witness your union. Then, the vows come. One of the staff of the wedding planner hands Jungkook a microphone as you face each other. He pulls out a piece of folded paper from the inside pocket of his coat, unfolds it, clears his throat, and begins his vow. 

“Y/N, the first time I met you was when we were fifteen years old. I had just debuted and you came to BigHit as a producer. At that moment, I knew you were the one,” Jungkook smiles at you. “But I was too scared to make a move, partly because we were just starting out our careers and dating was a no-no; mostly because I thought I wouldn’t have the chance. You were smart, beautiful, responsible, independent, and work was your life. But the more we got closer, as producer and singer, as people, as friends, my feelings for you just grew.” 

He continues. “Then, five years later, I finally had the courage to tell you how I feel, and I won’t lie—when you turned me down, I was heartbroken. I thought all the pain I felt before was incomparable to how I felt when you told me you couldn’t be with me. But as most of the people here know, I’m a very persistent and determined man. I wanted to show you that my love for you was sincere and deep so I did everything to get that ‘yes’ from you. And my god, I was the happiest man in the universe when you finally said that and in the best way you know how—by saying it through a song.” 

“I know the beginning of our relationship isn’t easy for the both of us. Back then, it felt like the entire world was against us. But I wanted to thank you for staying despite the despites, for choosing me. Thank you for loving me.” 

“Now that we’re starting the next chapter of our lives together, I vow to always love you seven days a week,” the crowd erupts in laughter and he cheekily sends them a smile. “I vow to be with you wherever you are, to be completely and utterly devoted to you for the rest of my life. I vow to be the best husband to you and father to our children. I vow to always be by your side and for you to always have my heart. Y/N, love, I vow to be yours until the end of time.” 

Your heart feels like it’s about to burst. You know the guests are probably eating up every single one of his words, interpreting them as ‘sweet’ or some shit like that, but all you can think of is how calculated every word he is. How every word is not a vow or a promise, but a threat. 

When it’s your turn to say your vows, you read what he wrote. Every word feels heavy on your tongue. But nothing is as heavy as the next words you’re about to speak. 

“Do you, Jeon Jungkook, take Yang Y/N to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love and cherish her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for so long as you both shall live?

He wastes no time to answer. “I do.” 

The priest turns to you. “And do you, Yang Y/N, take Jeon Jungkook to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love and cherish her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her, for so long as you both shall live?” 

Your chest rises heavily. The priest waits on your answer. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes burning holes on you. 

“I do.” 

“You may now kiss the bride,” the priest happily announces. 

You and Jungkook face each other and he takes the veil off your face. He places his warm hands on your face and just before he places his lips on yours, a ghostly smirk appears on it. Then, he seals your fate with a kiss. The crowd erupts in cheer. You are now Jeon Jungkook’s wife.

━━ “You wrap around me and you give me life.”  END

All Rights Reserved. © cupofjeon. 2024. The author does not allow any translation, repost, modification, and the likes for any of her stories. Do not plagiarize. Once again, the author does not condone this type of behavior. Feel free to send your thoughts here. See you in the next fic!  

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[tomssexdoll]

hey boobie it’s your favorite person ever

so i was thiiinking 2009 billy dread era and ur his gf and it was a stressful day for him so while you’re brushing ur teeth and abt to head to bed he comes up behind u n starts kissing ur neck and dragging his fingers under the waistband of ur shorts. 😍😍😍 and then he fucks u rough on the hotel bed. omg and make it a plot twist where since it’s a hotel, tom hears everything and is absolutely traumatized the next day

HI POOKIe

"Fuck.." Bill grunted, slamming the door shut and entering the hotel room, I was getting ready for bed and wondered why Bill was taking so long to come back from Toms room.

They had been discussing some things with the rest of the band and obviously a fight must've broke out. I was brushing my teeth, looking at him through the mirror, "baby what happened" I mumbled, mouth full of toothpaste.

He sighed and walked over, wrapping his hands around my waist and softly kissing my neck, "just the guys..they are so fucking difficult, I make these great decisions and they all disagree" he grunted, fists slightly clenching.

"I know they're annoying baby but just learn to deal with them I guess, you know how difficult Tom can be" I sighed, not paying attention to his kisses and spitting the toothpaste out, bending over and cleaning my mouth out.

Bill grunted and pressed his erection onto my ass, rubbing softly. I smirked and stood back up, feeling his hands snake under the waistband of my shorts, dangerously close to my clothed pussy.

I turned around and caressed his cheek, "how about I take care of you, hm?" he chuckled, "oh no baby I'm in control, get ready" I winced slightly, knowing damn well he wasn't going to go easy on me. He led me to the bed and instructed for me to take my clothes off, I did as I was told and got on my hands and knees on the bed, arching my back to show off my aching pussy to him.

The bed dipped behind me and he smacked my ass hard, leaving a stining sensation after, "don't tease you little shit" he grunted, shoving his boxers down and freeing his cock. I felt the tip at my entrance, softly teasing.

"Mm..put it in.." I whimpered, tired of him taking so long, he grabbed my hair and forcefully shoved it back, whispering in my ear "don't demand shit, I will fuck you when I want and however I want" I nodded and felt his cock slam into me all at once, stretching me out.

"Ah!" I groaned, grabbing onto the sheets until my knuckles turned white. I tried to get over the pain of his cock brutally shoving itself in me, he retracted and then slammed back in, creating a rough pace.

His grip on my hair only tightened, another hand coming around and wrapping itself around my neck, gently choking me. I cried out and felt his tip directly hit my g spot, sending shock waves of pleasure throughout me.

"Oh fuck!" I moaned, rolling my eyes back and clenching my legs together. "Stop that" he smacked my ass roughly, hand returning back to my neck.

His grip on my hair finally loosened, sending me flying into the mattress face first, I stabled myself and gripped onto the sheets again, "fuck sakes.." he mumbled, smacking my ass again.

His cock felt so good in me, his tip kissing my cervix as it roughly pounded into me. "Such a good girl, letting me take my frustrations out on you" he chuckled darkly.

At this point the headboard was slamming into the wall, making a slight dent. I knew we would get in trouble but fuck I didn't care right now, in the moment all I cared about was his cock slamming into my pussy so well.

I felt a knot forming in my stomach, coiling down to my core. My release was near and it was approaching fast, I tried to tell Bill but I couldn't form the words, too much pleasure hitting me all at once, all that came out was, "cumming..fuck.." whimpers left my mouth, feeling his tip slam into my g spot so perfectly.

"Cum on my cock baby.." he groaned, picking up his pace and thrusting harder and faster, I felt the burning in my heat only intensify. Then, my body shuddered, my orgasm crashing down and making me cum all over his cock.

My pussy clenched hard onto his cock, his cum squirting in me and coating my walls. He panted and grabbed my waist, laying onto the bed and pulling me onto his chest. We both caught out breathes for a few minutes before he pulled out and quickly cleaned me up, falling asleep straight away.

The next morning we all met up for breakfast, Tom couldn't even look at us, instead keeping quiet and eating his breakfast. I decided to speak up since Tom was never like this and I was concerned, "Tom are you ok? You're not usually this quiet" I tilted my head, pouting softly.

He finally looked up at me, a traumatized look in his face. "The walls are paper thin Y/N" he sighed, my eyes widened as I turned to Bill, smirking and drinking his juice.

"You fucking asshole you knew! You did it to piss him off!" I smacked his arm and stormed off, leaving the guys to laugh their asses off, except for Tom ofc poor Tom.

tags: @itsmealaiah @tomkaulitzloverr @tomscumdump @tomscumdoll @ge-billsgf @bkaulitzlover @ballhair @charliesgoodboy @estxkios

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #smut #bill kaulitz x female reader #bill kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x you #bill kaulitz x y/n #bill kaulitz fluff #bill kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill #ilovebillkaulitzhessosexyiwanthimtopoundmypussysoharditbreaksapart #ilovebillkaulitzmymanmymanmymanmyman #ilovetomkaulitzmybfomg #i love bill kaulitz #wet and gushy #soaking wet #wet ass pussy #so yummy #so hot 🔥🔥🔥 #rough smut #roughfuck #intense #degrading k1nk #angry #bill kaulitz angst #angst

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Siren Songs: Arthur Morgan x Siren!Reader

You sneered at the outlines of the men before you, your nails scratching faint lines into the thick glass. Your tail thrashed in the water, kicking up the dirt that sat thick at the bottom. The water tasted odd, like metal had been rusting in it for years, it didn’t taste clean. It made your skin start to ache.

You missed the taste of the sea.

Even in your deepest of dreams, you could still taste the salt on your skin and smell the brine that pooled beneath your body. How long had it been since you and your friends were snatched up from the sea? Years?

You glared at the men who had their backs to you, making sure to avoid eye contact as they laughed and regaled at how much money they had made off of you all. You could still feel the eyes of what looked to be thousands of people staring at you from beyond the thick glass and murky water you were all kept in.

They always made sure to keep the lid on tight, lest another “accident” happens and you all drown and maim another one of their men.

They had made a stop for the night, settling in some little town riddled with filth if the water they had rehomed you in was any clue. They had stashed your tanks in a stable amongst the four-legged beasts they call horses. Your heart tugged; Some of them were in the same shit show you were in: Forced to perform for the masses because of how different you were from humans. At least they could taste fresh air and even fresher waters.

Your eyes remained pinned on the men before you, narrowing your eyes and wrinkling your nose when one would turn to look at you before laughing with his “pals” only for them all to erupt in laughter.

“Come away from there,” one of your friends called. “It’ll do you no good just staring at them like that.”

A bitter taste settled at the back of your throat as you finally let go of the glass.

Just as you turned to swim towards your friends, the stable doors suddenly were yanked open.

“Dutch, are ya sure ye know what yer doin’?” Arthur didn’t even look over to the other men to his side.

He drew his bandana over his nose and unholstered his revolver as the older man just chuckled.

“Arthur, my boy, think of how much money we’d be gettin’ from this! In no time, we’ll be off in T-”

“Arthur’s right,” Hosea piped up. Dutch shot him a look. “They are dangerous creatures. They’ll think we’re just like their captors. One wrong move and we’re all goners.”

“It’s too late to back out now.”

Dutch unholstered his own revolver and started towards the stable that shockingly wasn’t very guarded.

Arthur followed close behind, eyeing the carts holding dangerous wild animals who eyed them all like they were walking hunks of meat ripe for eating. A shiver ran down his spine at the memory of that damned lion for Margaret that nearly took him down for good. Arthur snuck around the carts with Lenny and John while Dutch, Hosea and Micah took to the front.

A few shots rang out before Arthur and the others raced towards the front doors, already seeing a few bodies on the floor while Dutch had the rest getting on their knees.

“What is it? Money? We can give ya money!” one of the men pleaded.

They were all dressed nicely, better than anyone he’s ever seen in Saint Denis. They had to be from somewhere like New York City with clothes like that; Rich silks that were getting dirty from kneeling on the grimy floorboards covered in horse dung and God knows what else.

“Although ‘m honored for the offer, you fellows have somethin’ else I’ve had my eye on for awhile now,” Dutch smirked.

“Take it! It’s yours! Just let us go!” another of the men pleaded.

“Where are you fellows keepin’ the sirens?”

All of their eyes widened at the question.

“Wh- You can’t! They’re our star attraction!”

Dutch cocked the revolver and pressed it against the man’s forehead, the poor bastard was sweating through his expensive linens to the point where he could smell that pompous aftershave and cologne from where he stood.

“I ain’t askin’ again, gentlemen. The sirens?”

“There’s a wagon there,” Micah sneered, motioning towards the back of the stable with his gun. “What’s in it?”

Just the look on Micah’s face made Arthur want to silence him. Hell, everything Micah did made him want to shoot him dead where he stood.

“Arthur, go check it out,” Dutch motioned to the wagon.

Arthur swallowed thickly but slowly peeled away from the rest of the group. He was careful to step towards the wagon, noticing right away on how huge it was and especially how odd-looking it was. It was the same maroon wood with gold accents and wheels locked into place, but instead of large iron bars to keep whatever is in, it was thick glass.

With a lot of scratches on the inside.

Arthur stepped closer, noticing how murky the water was and how it was pushed back into the darkest corner of the stable away from the horses. The water must have felt so cold and disgusting.

At first, he didn’t see anything in the large tank.

And then he saw multiple pairs of eyes cutting through the darkness. Various shades of colors, but the pair of yellow eyes in the front stuck out to him the most. They were judging him, eyeing him up on whether he was prey to them or a predator. He couldn’t blame them, especially after how long those poor things have been in captivity. It made his heart twist in his ribs.

Dutch had been following this entire thing since Blackwater. It was his next big thing besides all of the other “plans” he had in that odd head of his. He was going to steal the sirens from this traveling circus and pawn them off to the highest bidder.

Dutch came up behind Arthur with a lantern in hand and gun ready in the other. His eyes widened at the sight of multiple eyes glowing the in the murky water and raised the lantern to the glass.

The entire pack of them flinched away from the light, but he really only got a good look at the one in front with the yellow eyes. Their scales had started to lose their color so long ago, there was just a faint trace of blue in the dull scales. Overgrown claws that had been neglected, a long tail curled and twisting the water, a wide fin that had little tears at the ends. He could only imagine how the others looked.

It was cruel to keep them in such disgusting conditions.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Dutch gawked. “Let’s get ‘em outta here and back to camp.”

It was late at night when Arthur left the confines of his tent, staring at the tank wagon at the edge of camp and started towards it with a lit lantern in hand. He saw the bodies in the water all huddled together, clinging to the edges on the tank fast asleep. Except for you.

Upon feeling eyes on the tank, your own parted and stared Arthur down as he walked up, a fire lit under his ass and burned him with determination. He saw you tail thrash a bit in the water, your claws sank a bit into the lip of the tank, the gills on your throat flared. You were trying to intimidate him, to drive him away; Yet you didn’t use your voice to do so.

“Why are you here?” your eyes narrowed.

He mulled over his words, his eyes pinned to yours in a hypnotic trance.

“‘M sorry.” Your eyes widened just a bit, your grip on the edge of the tank lessened. “I know you all’ve been through a lot. Made out to be some monsters, gettin’ looked like yer freaks. It ain’t fair to you all.”

He doesn’t know how long the silence enveloped you both. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours; But you softened up and finally let go of your death grip on the tank and freely floated on the water’s surface.

“You’re not… afraid of me?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?”

Arthur’s throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. The way your inhuman eyes searched his, the way the sun shimmered off of your dull scales. It made his stomach flutter in an odd way.

“‘M gonna get ya out of this mess.”

#red dead redemption #rdr #arthur morgan #arthur x reader #arthur morgan x reader

[ysrjune]

stephen walking in on you jumping his pillows??

Stephen had taken you to his apartment for the night since you decided to visit him for the last hour he had to work. You were in his office, staying quiet and watching him type and write things away. Once he was finished, you talked with him for a while until his shift was over.

You came in a taxi, so he just took you with him in his car. Laughs and conversations filled the car all the way from work, the parking lot, and his apartment. You both lay in his bed, kissing for a while. Kiss marks were left all over his face.

“Gotta go wash these off, sweetie.” He chuckled and kissed your cheek. “Be right back, don't run off.” Stephen jokes, quickly going to his dresser to find comfy bottoms and a shirt, then walks to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

You lay on your back and sighed. Literally, nothing was planned for you today except for all the chores you had to finish earlier. Not to mention the fact that you were so worked up and needed your boyfriend so bad all day.

You had no idea if he was in the mood or not, but if he wasn't, you were gonna put him in it. You swiftly removed all your clothes and grabbed one of your boyfriends’ pillows. At a slow pace that eventually sped up, you rocked your hips on it and imagined it was Stephen.

“Babe, hurry up!” You called out to which he replied, “Almost done, I'll just be a minute!” He was probably brushing his teeth, too. You waited until he came out, wiping off his glasses, not looking at you immediately. “Sorry I took so long. I decided to brush my teeth and scrub my face real good.” Stephen explains and put his glasses back on.

As soon as he looked at what you were doing, he froze and started blushing. “Babe.. what are you doing.” He asks shyly. “What does it look like im doing?” You reply, going slower.

“you—you know, if.. if you wanted to.. do something you could've just asked..” he slowly walked over to you, placing his hands on your hips. “Mm—I wouldn't have said no, you know that, baby.” He breathes out, his right hand dropping down to your clit and letting his middle finger slide up and down.

You let out a small moan and drape your hands over his shoulders. “I don't know.. I guess I just—” you paused for a second, feeling his finger move back and forth on you. “just wanted to see what you would do when you saw what I was doing.

“Wishing my face was that pillow, if im being honest.” What? Did he really just say that, or did you imagine it..

“What did you sa—”

“Sit on my face. Please sit on my face, baby.” He cut you off and went down on his knees, hands reaching behind your thighs to pull you closer so he could suck on your folds. “You're.. wet.” He quietly states, pulling away while your bodily fluids connect with his lips.

“Makes me so hard to see you be the needy one..” He gently pushed you down and dragged you closer to his mouth. “if only you could see what I see. Mmm, this pretty pussy is all mine.” He groaned against the lips and then started to eat you like a starved man.

Your moans filled the room. Fingers tangling in his curly hair and hearing the sloppiest noises coming from his tongue exploring you. “Come on, baby, please? I dont wanna ask again..” He stopped.

“Okay, fine..” You replied, and he got what he wanted. Your hands gripped the headboard, and your hips rolled on his face while he was eating you out. His arms were gripping your thighs, too. He moaned and made all sorts of noises while doing this.

After cumming all over his face, he wanted you to ride him. And what happened? That pretty boy got what he wanted. He tried ditching the glasses, but you didn't let him. Not ever.

His hands kept moving from your tits, ass, hips, and thighs while you were doing this. A hair fell onto his forehead, making him look so cute. Cheeks stained deep pink, glasses that kept falling down the bridge of his nose.. that piece of hair did wonders.

A bunch of babbles came from him, saying how he loves you and your pussy so much. Or telling you how hes so lucky to be with a gorgeous girl like you. He just praised you so much since its all he ever does. Stephen likes to show you how much hes enjoying himself.

“‘m gonna cum, baby, pleasepleaseplease dont stop.” he whined into your shoulder, shaking his head. sniffles fell from his nose. was he really crying? was he that overstimulated? “im—shit, mm! im cumming!” he thrusts into you, moaning as soon as his seed shot into you.

—

so it mine el

#stephen glass x reader #stephen glass imagine #stephen glass #stephen glass fluff #hayden christensen #anon

[cricketnationrise]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks to @cha-melodius, @kiwiana-writes, and @happiness-of-the-pursuit for the tags!

How many works do you have on ao3?

253

What's your total ao3 word count?

481,635

What fandoms do you write for?

RWRB, Check Please!, Tortall, verrrry occassionally The Parasol Protectorate

Top five fics by kudos:

Going Platinum - camboy!Alex AU

Burnin' Through the Sky - speed dating meet-cute

Set in Platinum - camboy!Alex sequel

warm from the inside out - some stuff happens under a desk 😉

Downburst - In The Shadow of Two Gunmen/West Wing AU

Do you respond to comments?

I have responded to every comment so far!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't tend to write angsty endings. That being said, this Check, Please! ficlet I wrote for @shygryf is very angsty: Hotel Room, Mar. 1 (I did fix it with a later ficlet, but on it's own...)

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them tbh. I'm an unrepentant happy ending lover.

Do you get hate on fics?

Nothing that comes to mind--I've been extremely lucky. I've gotten some baffling ones and some with a strange tone, but I think that's more down to English not being their first language, not hate.

Do you write smut?

Yes.

Craziest crossover:

I tend toward fusions/AUs rather than actual crossovers. Although there are Check Please! easter eggs in the Going Platinum universe.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of, although I would hope that any translator would have let me know so that I can flail in overwhelmed gratitude.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not yet, although there's one that's been sitting for a year-ish that I'm gonna be really excited to finally get to.

All time favorite ship?

I won't choose and you can't make me.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Not right now. All the wips I've got that are more than just like, one line or a title, I'm really excited about writing and sharing.

What are your writing strengths?

Immersive descriptions, humor, and metaphors. This bitch loves a metaphor.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Action scenes. I'm getting better, but any time I have a particularly big action scene I beg on my knees for @cha-melodius to get into the doc.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Only If I feel confident about the translation. I'll usually get a native speaker to check it over if it's more than an easy phrase I already know/can google, especially if it's a whole conversation.

First fandom you wrote in?

Check, Please!

Favorite fic you've written?

You're so mean to me making me pick. Le sigh, fine.

Check, Please!: How Delightful if that Were True - Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society AU (100% homegrown epistolary baybee)

RWRB: More Than Brick and Mortar - sentient Brownstone AU, magical realism

Tortall: i'll rise up in spite of the ache - hockey AU of First Test

Parasol Protectorate: No Small Matter - 5+1 pranks on Conall that I wrote for @homobiwan

(narrowing these down was absolute agony, btw. hope you're happy.)

Tags under the cut, but if you wanna do this, who am I to stop you? Aka consider this your open tag.

@celeritas2997 @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @anincompletelist

@firenati0n @missanniewhimsy @montrealmadison @doggernaut @parvuls

#cricket writes #writer games #20 questions #rwrb #omgcp #tortall #parasol protectorate #check please #personal faves

[kaycares22]

At 7:36 AM on a Tuesday, Draco stumbles out of her personal Floo. It sounds like he tumbles out, and Hermione gasps as she whirls around to face the hearth in her kitchen. He’s bent over with his hands on his knees, catching his breath. She’s never seen him look less put together.

“Draco. What’s wrong?” There’s a wild look in his eyes as he straightens, staring at her in a way that makes her feel more vulnerable than when he had her skirt hitched up around her waist seconds after he placed a silencing charm on the door to her office yesterday. She’s grown used to his touch, his taste, his presence in her life in stolen moments. But a wake-up call is outside the protocol of their trysts.

Not to mention that his face is currently whiter than the white blonde of his hair.

“What happened?” she asks when he continues to stare at her with wide gray eyes instead of answering her question. “What’s wrong?”

His hand shakes as he raises it to run it through his hair. “The tapestry,” he finally rasps. “The bloody fucking tapestry.”

“The…?” Hermione frowns as she watches his Adam's apple bob with the force of his swallow. He runs his hand through his hair again, and she thinks to herself that he looks spider-webbed, seconds away from shattering with the force of a breeze. “Here. Come sit.”

Draco’s hand still shakes in hers when she takes it, but he lets her lead him to one of the stools at her counter. He stares at some spot over her shoulder, almost despondent in his panic, until she presses her palm against his cheek. She ignores the voice in the back of her mind that questions why this feels like the most intimate way she’s ever touched him.

His eyes have that same wild quality when he stares back at her. “What happened to the tapestry?”

Rubbing a hand over his face, he mumbles something to himself that sounds like Didn’t think this part through. His hand covers his eyes for several long seconds before he finally lets it drop away. But then his eyes roam her body like he’s searching for an answer, and she wishes he’d cover his eyes again instead.

It catches her off guard when he asks, “How do you feel?”

“How do I feel?” she repeats, sounding daft even in her own ears.

“Do you feel… normal?”

Draco’s eyes scan her body again, and she crosses her arms over her chest to lessen that feeling of being laid bare before him. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“Is there something you need to tell me?” He shifts directions as he shifts uncomfortably in his seat. And Hermione feels exasperated.

“Draco, what the hell are you getting at?” she sighs.

He falls silent again, but at least this time he holds her gaze. Another swallow, another bob. Another shaking hand through his hair. And then his voice a thin rasp again when he says, “You appeared on my family tapestry.”

Her blood freezes in her veins. She has no idea what that means, and she’s certain she knows what he just said at the same time. But her brain refuses to accept that interpretation. “I- what?”

“Granger, you are now on the Malfoy family tapestry. Which could mean that when you got me drunk on firewhisky last Friday, I married you and managed to forget.” Her stomach flips at the easy way the word married rolls off his tongue, but something in her mind screams at him to stop there.

Marriage. Period. Full stop. As far as this train of thought goes.

But instead, he levels his gaze with hers again as a muscle twitches in his jaw. “But there would be a line connecting your name to mine. Not an empty circle with an hourglass beneath both our names.”

His eyes drop from hers to stare solidly at her middle. She rushes to cross her arms there, to hide it from his view. “That’s impossible.”

But even as she says the words, she hears the lack of sincerity. Impossible would mean she hadn’t been the one to kiss him first. Impossible would mean she hadn’t invited him back to hers that first time, telling herself the next morning that she had been a little too drunk when she hadn’t drunk at all. Impossible would mean he was still just her coworker, not someone who had traced every part of her with his hands.

It was very possible.

“You’ve been a bitch,” he adds, interrupting her thoughts.

“I have not!” She takes a step back to create distance. Her hand itches to slap him. He must sense it because his lip twitches despite the lack of color that remains in his face.

“You were all pissy with me last week when you misplaced your notes on the vampyr rights’ bill.” He waves a hand lazily towards her. “You’re pissy right now.”

“You called me a bitch!” she says, aghast. What had ever made her think it was a good idea to sleep with this man? And then to keep returning at various times for the last three months?

“Yesterday, my hand barely grazed your tit, and you flinched.” He cards a hand through his hair again. It looks unkempt now, and Draco Malfoy never looks unkempt. Neither of them. Neither of them ever looks unkempt because they are calculated and careful and intentional in everything they do.

Except for when she kissed him on an impulse after their co-authored legislation for the protection of centaurs passed.

Hermione has to fight the urge to raise her hand to her own breast to see if it’s still just as tender.

“Well, it’s impossible.” She sounds more sure of herself as she shakes her head and raises her chin. “I’m taking a potion.”

This time, his lip does more than twitch. It’s a sad kind of smirk he wears, and her hand itches again to slap it off his face. “Which would be canceled out by the antidote you took when you had that skin reaction to the asphodel.”

She had held her breath, waiting for him to point out all the potential flaws in her brewing her own contraceptive potion. But the way he takes his Double Mastery of Potions knowledge and easily points out the way her potions would counteract one another leaves her feeling faint.

Hermione feels the color leave her own face. But her stubborn resistance grows a reciprocal amount.

“Well, this is ridiculous,” she mutters as she storms across the room to her discarded wand on the counter. She turns back around to find that Draco is standing again, gripping the counter as if it’s a life raft. She waves her wand and mutters the detection charm, determined to prove him wrong.

And instead, a tiny gold light appears above her abdomen. Flickering like a rapid heartbeat.

Her knees buckle as her whole world upends. But Draco just stares at it with wide eyes, his expression a mixture of fear and awe as he whispers, “Well, fuck me.”

#dramione #draco x hermione #dhr #dhr fanfiction #dramione fanfic #draco malfoy #hermione granger #dramione drabble #my ficlet #guilty sinners #clever words

[igotanidea]

Different lives: dad!Jason Todd x wife!reader

Request: Family au, I believe that Jason Todd is a family man and he would totally have 2 older boys like 15-13 a five year old daughter who has him like wrapped around his finger and the wife and Jason get like a call from the school saying there was a fight and Jason is all like hey no no we don't do that but then asks who won

***

It seemed like they were dancing at Dick and Babs’ wedding only five minutes ago.

Holding onto each other for dear life, like they knew that that person in their arms were the one. Like this little celebration, that was not really little, and not even theirs, made them think about future much more seriously.

And for the first time ever, Jason actually believed that maybe there was something more for him in this life. Something more than rejection, pain, fear and constant loneliness.

Of course, given the fact that he and Y/N had been together for a while, he knew that before. But at that moment, in the middle of the giant dancefloor, surrounded by other couples and guest and yet – having eyes only for her – he knew.

Two different things.

***

When he came back home from his work (he had regular work now! That scrawny kid and rebellious young adult turned into a responsible head of the family, though the moment of change somehow skipped them both) Y/N was on the phone with a concerned face expression.

“Yes. Yes, I understand. I’ll be there right away. Yes. Yes, absolutely.” She turned to Jay and send him a smile, tired if not exhausted, but a smile regardless.

He let her talk, instead focusing on his little princess daughter playing on the blanket next to her mother’s feet. That little being totally had him wrapped around her finger and all it took was a sight of her pretty eyes that looked so much like her mother’s and he was dropping everything and rushing to the girl’s side.

“What happened?” He asked taking Leah on his knees and settling on the couch next to Y/N, wrapping an arm around her shoulders trying to relieve the obvious tension. He had his girls therefore he had everything and there was not a single thing he wouldn’t do for them.

“It’s Liam and Dylan.” Y/N sighed pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, right” Jason smirked at the thought of his two older sons. 15 and 13 now, looking and acting just like him at this age. Causing troubles wherever they showed, not taking anyone’s bullshit, but with a deeply hidden heart of gold. He was so proud of them, even if saying that out loud was a rare occurrence. “What did they do this time?” he chuckled, mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Jason!”

“What?”

“This is not funny!”

“Of course it is! They are boys, they are allowed to-“

“I’m warning you, do not finish this sentence!” she placed both hands on Leah’s ears “I don’t want my baby girl anywhere near trouble.”

“You know she’s got our blood in her veins, so that gives her a lot of genetic burden in the troublemaker area?”

“Jason!”

“What?” he shrugged casually “It’s true and you know it.”

“Mhm. Yeah, we’ll see how you act when he grew up on causing troubles with boys-“

“WHAT?!” Jason jumped off the couch, holding Leah’s little body close to his chest, his grip on a girl tightening significantly. “Over my dead body! That’s my little girl! No one is taking her away and-“

Y/N only laughed observing the jealous dad display and fairly enjoying the show of care. It was heartwarming, seeing Jason put so much care into someone. And him having it reciprocated as Leah nuzzled into his body with multiple happy chuckles playing with the fabric of his shirt, fisting and twisting it mercilessly.

“Daddy…” she chuckled enjoying his embrace. Even as a child she was always calmer when he was holding her.  

“Shhh, shh baby. Daddy’s gotta have a word with mummy.” He caressed Leah’s hair and kissed the top of her  head. “Stop laughing at me Y/N, this is serious shit! I need to start planning my predicaments for boys who might want to steal her heart and-“

“She’s five Jason!” Y/N laughed even more “I think you have a little bit of time.”

“This is serious!” he perked up.

“Of course. The same way it’s serious with Dylan and Liam.”

Jason grunted in annoyance seeing how she tricked him.

“Dammit Y/N…” he grinned immediately flinching inside at the thought Leah heard the cussing. “Sorry, pumpkin…” the little kiss planted on girl’s forehead did not stop her from repeating the word however.

“Dammit!” Leah cried out the word on the top of her lungs happily.

And that was how Jason knew he was up to a serious conversation with his wife.

***

An hour later, all the family was sitting in the car, Jason driving, Y/N shotgun and the kids on the backseat, with Leah in the middle being simultaneously entertained by both her older brothers. Under  any other circumstances Y/N would probably let her motherly instincts come to the fore, but this time was different.

“Liam, Dylan, stop using my soft spots and family love for your own purposes.” She warned “you may love your sister, but you’re still in trouble.”

“We didn’t do anything!”

“Liam Thomas Todd!” she almost turned around ‘you got into a fight at school.”

“But it was not our fault mom!” the other son, immediately came to his brother rescue, having his back, which – again – awakened her motherly pride. A feeling she was not going to subdue to. Those boys needed a little reaming out regardless of siblings’ solidarity.  “That guy just came at us and –“

“Dylan Roy Todd. Violence is not an answer and-” She said, with conviction at first but then stopping, having realized that those kids did in fact have Jason’s and hers blood and those words were a hypocrisy in purest form. Fuck. She hissed to herself, hesitating in the middle of the sentence. A mistake Jason was more than willing to jump at.

“A fight huh?” he smirked looking into the rearview mirror to sneak a glance at his sons. Liam with already bruising eye and Dylan with a swollen nose, clutching it tightly to prevent any blood stains on upholstery. “So, did you use those blows and punches I’ve been teaching you?”

“WHAT!?” Y/N turned from facing her sons to facing her husband so fast that something snapped loudly in her neck. “JASON PETER TODD!”

“Y/N, Y/M/N, Y/L/N” Jason grinned in response, not paying her that much attention too curious of his offsprings response “Who won?”

“You should have seen the other guy” his boys smirked in the same way he was, and his fatherly heart could not be bigger at that moment.

Even if he knew Y/N was already planning her revenge on them all.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd au #jason todd fluff #dad jason todd

[talesoftheunimagined]

[Mistaken Identity] Chapter 2

Rating: General

Fandom: Good Omens (Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett)

Relationships: Aziraphale x Crowley, Aziraphale/Crowley

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Heartbreak, Love, Georgian Era

Summary: The year is 1797. King George has just gotten over a bout of illness and a member of the English royal family had just gotten married to a Duchess of Holland, so why not throw a masquerade ball to celebrate the occasion and invite all the noblemen and women of The United Kingdom and surrounding areas?

Crowley and Aziraphale meet at the ball. Crowley, though, mistakes some identities.

Chapter one can be found here

Notes: Thank you for all the love for chapter one! <3

😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈😇😈

If you'd wondered how big the ballroom was, it could hold an entire 60-person Classical orchestra. You might not think that's a lot. But consider the musical instruments and then also consider how many hundreds of people would appear at the ball; Dukes, Duchesses, Barons and Baroness, Kings, Queens, Princes, Princesses, foreign diplomats and attachés, counts and contessas. Then a whole armoury of staff plus the dresses and clothes they were all wearing. So it was no surprise to Aziraphale when he had lost Crowley for nearly three and a half hours. In his tipsy-nearly-drunk state, he had thought that he'd seen Crowley at least four times but it was just a mask that looked similar to his.

It was nearly ten o'clock when Aziraphale had spotted Crowley by the open doors of a balcony absent of the Swan lady he had danced with earlier. He was leaned up against a doorframe idly and looked out downwards out into the sconce-lit courtyard. Crowley had found out that the name of this woman was Frederica (but he hadn't found out that he had bedded crown Princess Frederica Charlotte of Prussia - daughter in law to the king) and that she was rather good in the bedroom. His hair was ever so slightly out of place but this wasn't extremely noticeable unless one had paid scrupulous attention to his hair before and after he'd vanished into a guest room. The demon was enjoying the cool summer night breeze (not that he actually needed it) and was also, rather squiffy.

"Having a rather good time, aren't we?" Said Aziraphale with light amusement.

"Mmh." The demon hummed, not looking at him. Probably just too drunk to speak.

"She'll confess you realize?" It wasn't a question but more or a statement. It still came out with a wistful, dreamlike tone. "We'll get her back on our side-"

"You're gorgeous, y'know that?" The demon cut him off. Aziraphale blushed deeply. "And - And - And - I would like to, to very much dance. With you. Now." Crowley, still not paying mind to Aziraphale, took his hand awkwardly and stumbled out into the center of the room. It all happened so quickly. Aziraphale's head spun from the sudden and unwarned movement - like when you stand up too fast and become dizzy and when he came to his senses, he found himself being thrown into an underarm spin by Crowley. He winced slightly as he drew the alcohol out of his system and sobered himself. The angel's heart raced. He suddenly became very aware of the situation: Crowley's slender fingers firmly grasping his waist, his smooth palm resting against his, both their chests pressing together and the feel of other women's dresses brushing against his legs and ankles as well as his own coat tails on the backs of his calves and knees. His heart fluttered and his face and ears glowed a brilliant bright red.

"Crowley-"

"I've been admiring you all night, you know."

"Well, Crowley, I must admit that I-"

"You're- you're angelic. Positively glowing in brilli- in brilli- you're beautiful." The demon slurred.

"Oh well, thank you, my dear-"

"And-" Crowley spun Aziraphale again. He was quite a skilled dancer even if he was drunk. He placed his hand firmly on the angel's hip once more and rested his chin on top of his head as they both fell back into a simple box step.

"I'm quite sure that you want what I'm after," His voice came out low, sensual. Almost a purr that would weaken anybody's knees. Aziraphale nearly melted.

"O-Oh, Crowley, I feel the exact same way I've just been rather too shy to admit! I thought it would be far too forward of me."

"- Frederica." Frederica. Bloody Frederica.The angel's heart sank down to the depths of hell and he could now feel his face heating up for another reason. This was now humiliation. His face fell, he tensed every muscle in his body. It was clear now that the demon had confused Aziraphale with the swan woman. After all, they did have similar masks and their heights and frames were similar. Similar enough for a drunkard to draw the conclusion that they may have been the same person. He hadn't even been listening or looking at him. He was far too drunk to even realize that she was not him. Tears stung his eyes. He wished, after nearly 6000 years of being on Earth, that he had never been sent down to this infernal planet!

"Crowley." The demon continued muttering things. Aziraphale ripped his hand out of Crowley's and threw his hand from his waist. He ran as fast as his legs could carry towards an open balcony before anybody else could catch on to what had just happened. The humiliation! Oh good heavens how could he have ever believed for one second that Crowley had meant those words for him?! Of course, he didn't! Couldn't! Wouldn't. Ever. A hard lump formed in his throat and he felt his lip quiver. He collapsed behind the door and bought his hands up to his forehead, staring down at the paving stones. He had let himself be tempted by the very force he was meant to have thwarted. How dare he! The stupid, foolish, hopeful angel.

Crowley stood in a daze in the middle of the ballroom. Then he realized the full weight of what had just happened as he miracled himself sober. A handful of couples stared at him in disgust - or maybe it was annoyance that he'd upset the mood of the party. His insides churned and twisted in a way he was quite sure shouldn't have worked in this human body. He felt like a true demon for the first time in centuries.

"Aziraphale...Aziraphale!"

Aziraphale leaned his head against the stone of the balcony railing. His head was thrumming. He could quite clearly hear the calls of his name getting nearer and nearer to him. The angel slammed the balcony door with such ferocity that the pigeons on the roof scattered scared into the night and the glass pains almost shattered. The last thing he wanted was to face Crowley and cause any more humiliation on his own part - thank you very much!

"Oh! Oh!" His face scrunched up in almost pain. "OH! Will you please just fuck right off!"

#aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale/crowley #chapter 2 #mistaken identity #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #fluff #angst #aziracrow

[wexhappyxfew]

12 on Subtle Love for Judy and Rosie? Simply cannot get enough of them ❤️

JAMIE HEYYYY!!!! thank you so much first of all for dropping this in the askbox :) very very appreciated on my end + it's for judy and rosie, my two sweetbeans who deserve nothing but the best, so truly, thank you!! i was inspired by the intimacy of sharing in the quiet moments and in this case, this piece hit me a bit harder than others. we come to judy in a time where she's wrangling some of the loses that the group experiences, over and over. and she's trying to find some anchor to hang onto in this ferocious sea that continually knocks her down, over and over......and rosie happens to be that anchor :)

looking out for me

(a/n): for the judy x rosie girlies :') in the midst of finals season, but needed a break from biophysics for the brain and landed on a judy x rosie piece that i'd been playing around with for a few weeks and finally found a place to put it in! prompt is: "You can call (talk to me) me. Day or night. I'm there for you." (changed call to 'talk to me'). please enjoy these two and the intimacy of sharing! <3

The briefing room was probably the place she felt it most.

The loss. The amount of lives that had stepped through the doors and heard that final mission, not knowing it would their final mission in life.

With the lights not on and the sun barely risen outside, it was almost peaceful. When they weren't being told that recipe for a suicide mission.

It was weird knowing Annie Bradshaw wouldn't be walking through those doors today for the mission; along with Margie or Bessie or Kennedy.

Knowing that their lives were scattered somewhere in continental Europe if they hadn't all died.

If.

Judy had gotten her tears out - it was funny, being so accustomed to death day in and day out, she got used to the names being told around the base. She just didn't expect it to be their names.

Reaching up to brush at a stray tear, Judy schooled her features a bit better than she had previously that morning when she'd woken up and Viv had watched her breakdown all alone and build herself slowly back up. None of them really wanted to have to talk about it - the four of them that were missing - especially Francis. Francis seemed to feel it deep within her enough that she was numb. Numb to it all. Judy hurt for her. One day she'd find herself better able to understand these emotions, these feelings, all those unwanted thoughts in her brain. For now, she could only sit and let them grow. She heard the door open from somewhere behind her and slowly turned her head over her shoulder.

Rosie Rosenthal stepped into the briefing room, his gaze lingering around the place, only before settling on her there in the chair. Judy watched him from across the room, the pound of her heart causing all the blood to rush to her head and her eyes, and it took all her might to stay right there in the chair instead of launching across the room to beg him to hold her and put her back together.

To get rid of this ache, this ever-present constant in her life.

Every person going down in a flying coffin, MIA or dead.

But even he couldn't do that if she couldn't even do it for herself. No one could do, especially if you couldn't do it yourself.

Judy hadn't taken the time to realize he had crossed the room, in his slow approach and settled there on the seat beside her. She watched him for a quiet moment and licked her lips.

"Not hungry?" he asked her quietly, leaning forward against his knees and looking up at her with those big, worried eyes, "I noticed you weren't at breakfast." Judy watched him, before a stubborn tear rolled down her cheek, quickly wiping it away, her hands slick with sweat, her heart pounding in her ears, loud enough for any other sense to be drowned out. She stared at him and swallowed the cry in her throat and shook her head.

"Not really." Judy managed out quickly, before looking towards the window, trying to control her breathing rate and her pounding heart, "Just needed a place to be alone….for a bit." Her vision became slightly blurred by her tears and she felt her body aching to cry, to let it all out, to get rid of this feeling and become comfortably numb. But she couldn't do that. She had to keep it in.

She could tell Rosie was taking it in, her poor mumbles of words, mulling them over and thinking all at once. His face looked more strained than usual and he seemed so still, like some sort of statue. She blinked away her tears - over and over.

"You going to be okay for the mission today?" she heard Rosie ask quietly, and there was something in his voice that made her want to cry just a little bit more.

Ever since Rosie had asked for her to be the turret ball gunner for Rosie's Riveters, she had been trying her hardest, putting out with all she could, to do her best in his eyes. There was a certain level of gaining his trust inside the plane that she had already gained outside the plane. A trust that she could operate a gun and strike down what enemy planes she could.

And he knew she was hard on herself, everyone had known that.

And with Silver Bullets being out of commission and their previous crew splintered in various groups, into Operations and HQ and all over Europe, she was still trying to convince herself she could get back to that headspace she'd been in under Annie and Captain Faulkner.

Now with her third commanding pilot, the fear she'd lose him was overwhelming.

"I will." Judy said quietly, looking over at him, his own eyes meeting her red-rimmed ones and she nodded, "I promise you." Rosie watched her; she usually never saw this much of his concerned side of him. He was usually pretty good at hiding it, at least in front of the other men and especially in front of her.

But sometimes, she'd hop out of that ball turret, sweat marks streaked across her face, burn marks on her cheeks, her hands beat-red and shaking and she'd see something flash through Rosie Rosenthal's gaze that made her want to take his worry away in any way she possibly could.

That maybe she could do something that wouldn't worry him, that would reassure him and take that fear away. Because even if he didn't show it, his eyes and that far-off look were ever-present and she saw it, even when staring at each other from across the interrogation table.

Because he'd stare at her as she spoke - citing what she saw, how many chutes, the works - and she'd watch his jaw clench and those eyes turn dark, and he'd speak solemnly almost, and an undisturbed, coldly, calm demeanor and would be by her side when they were dismissed. And he'd ask her how she was and if she needed a sit down. And he'd always have that look. One she replayed over and over in her head.

Like it was the last time he'd be seeing her get out of that ball turret.

"Well," Rosie said quietly, reaching into his inner coat pocket, revealing a neatly folded, lumpy brown bag, "then I can't have my ball gunner going up on an empty stomach so. Eat." He held out the brown paper bag and she stared at him, unsure of the offering, before taking it into her grasp and adjusting herself to sit up a bit. She looked hesitantly at the bag before looking up at him.

Watching with those persistent eyes, she slowly opened up the bag and inside was two pieces of bread, along with a sausage rolled in napkins and an orange. Her stomach, admittedly, growled at the sight and smell of food and she heard Rosie chuckle from beside her.

"Go on," Rosie said softly, his voice thrumming against her ears in a pleasant way that she'd never complain about, "here." He pulled his canteen forward and handed it to her. "Water, too." Judy watched him, in slight amazement and then met his gaze.

"Thanks, Rosie," she said quietly, "you didn't have to-"

"Don't worry about it," he said casually, and then settled into the chair and looked to her, "food's more important than anything and…I don't mind sitting here with you to make sure you enjoy it." She smiled a bit wider at his words, before digging into the bag and pulling the orange from the contents of the bag and settling it in her palm. Staring at the orange, she began to feel her eyes fill with tears and Rosie seemed to notice, leaning forward and placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry," Judy managed out, reaching up to wipe at her eyes, a rather ugly sniffle leaving her nose as she nodded to the orange, "it's just….do you want half? I shared these with Bes all the time, so." Rosie held her gaze for a moment, before squeezing her shoulder warmly and nodding.

"Of course." he said, and Judy cracked out a smile towards him and sniffled again, "Big fan of oranges, ya know?" Judy let out a small laugh and she watched him grin, before she slowly began to peel the fruit, with Rosie's attentive gaze on her own downcast eyes and her slightly shaky fingertips.

"Oranges' your favorite?" Rosie asked her quietly, and Judy looked up, nodding. "Back home, my brothers and sisters and I would always eat these. Ma made sure if we had anything, we had oranges," Judy said, a small chuckle leaving her lips, "Bes knew I loved them, so we'd usually share. All the time. And since…since she's not here, I wanted to share. With you." Rosie grinned at her, his eyes soft and lingering as he nodded. She smiled again before peeling away the rest of the bright orange outer surface. She looked up at him.

"Plus, it's rare when we get oranges in anyway, so….it's pretty special," she said, pulling the orange in half and then handing the first half to him, "for you." Rosie took the orange and smiled at her with a breathy, "Thanks." Taking a bite of the orange, that familiar and nostalgic taste flooded her mouth and she couldn't help but breathe a little easier just at that.

"Thank you, Rosie," Judy said, swallowing the orange and nodding to the bag, "it means a lot." Rosie gave her a worried smile, where it didn't quite reach his eyes and showed that maybe she had worried him more than she would ever know, but he nodded and looked to her fully.

"I know after the news, it hit you pretty hard." Rosie said, and she felt her throat tighten just at his words, the thought of what had happened, "And Judy….you know, you know you can talk to me. Day or night." Judy nodded and let a shaky smile cross her features.

"I'm there for you," he said softer this time, "you won't lose me that easy." That got a grin on Judy's face as she took another bite of the orange and met his gaze again, his baby blues watching her like it was the greatest sight to behold on base - when there were surely other things like the blue skies, or the setting sun, or the sight of one of those fortresses landing against the tarmac.

They didn't say much for the next few minutes, as they each enjoyed their halves of the orange, but Judy couldn't help but let her eyes linger on him for a moment after each bit of orange in her mouth. Watching how gently he had taken the orange from her, and how tender he still appeared now. How calm she felt sitting there next to him.

"You okay, Judy?" Blinking, she noticed that the orange was empty from her hands, and she was staring off into nothing important, and Rosie's hand was present on her shoulder. Judy met his gaze and then nodded, before covering her hand with her own.

"Yes," she said quickly, nodding again, "just, thank you Rosie. For everything. For looking out for me." Rosie smiled at her, squeezing her shoulder comfortingly, the tops of his cheeks dusting pink.

And he didn't have to say much - he just said, "Next time you get your hands on some oranges, come and find me."

Maybe oranges will be our new 'I got your back and you got mine'.

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #judy rybinski #rosie rosenthal #judy x rosie #they #shared #oranges #(sobs in a corner) #ya know those quotes about sharing oranges? yeah that was basically my commentary on those in a moment of grieving and i just i- #mentally and emotionally charged by this so #dont mind me losing it in the tags AGAIN #yeah them #them them them #someone give them all the best and brightest things for their future plz #(cries) #HE NOTICES THINGS SHE DOESNT EVEN NOTICE ABOUT HERSELF !!!!!!! (he notices i scream)

[seramilla]

If / whenever Odette proposes to Verosika— it’s not something big or grand. Instead it’s intimate and quiet when Odette shows the ring to verosika, it’s a beautiful ring— it had probably cost Odette a pretty penny. No one had seen it coming, not even Carmilla—who knows her girls like the palm of her hand.

Odette and Verosika have talked about marriage before. It's to be expected after watching, and participating in, Carmilla and Sera's wedding. Theirs had been an extravagant, social affair, thanks to Zestial and Lucifer, with every blue-blood in Hell who was on good terms with them present. But to the girls, neither really finds those kinds of huge public expressions of love appealing.

Verosika has to put on a show every day, so she'd told Odette, if and when it happens for her, she wants it to be more real. Not during one of her shows, and certainly not on stage; just something small between herself and her beloved. Odette can't say she disagrees. In fact, that's exactly what she'd hoped Verosika would say. Because that's exactly what she'd been planning.

Verosika already has everything a demon could want, and then some. So does Odette, honestly, and while both demons can afford to give each other the world, that's not really what Verosika wants, or what Odette wants, either. She desires to make it special, but also not too over-the-top. She decides to get Ozzy's advice on the right way to approach this. He is, of course, very helpful...but mostly about the honeymoon, and all the fun things that can come after.

He does know the name of a jewelsmith in Greed, though, and after some conversations with them back and forth over the phone, Odette orders a personalized pink diamond in a gold band, fit exactly to Odette's specifications. Not a big one...it's honestly rather small, but still worth a small fortune, she comes to find out. She still thinks it's more than enough to make Verosika happy. Odette hopes so, anyway.

Odette chooses to ask her on a night after Verosika gets back from a tour. They'd already had a date at Ozzy's planned. The king of Lust didn't have any other shows planned, and just reserved a small corner of the showroom for the two of them, allowing the musical stylings of Fizzarolli to complement their dinner of something Odette is too nervous to eat at the moment.

Verosika seems to notice Odette's not eating. Her girlfriend does have a hard time remembering to feed herself sometimes, and she brings it up to Odette, who is quickly shocked out of her state of internalized anxiety.

"Babydoll, you going to eat anything? You look pale."

"Oh! Yes! Sorry! Umm...shit. I was just thinking."

Verosika takes a sip of her wine. They'd only ordered one bottle; Odette wanted to be sober for the events yet to come.

"Thinking about what?"

Verosika reaches across the cozy table to touch Odette's hand. Odette's other hand is fumbling with the small box tucked safely into her pants pocket. Fizz has finished his last musical number, and walks off-stage to take a break. If there's any moment to act, Odette thinks, it's now. Taking a breath, she stands, and moves toward Verosika, before kneeling on one knee at her feet.

"Verosika Mayday...!" Odette starts, pausing more out of anxiety than dramatic effect. She hopes it makes her look cool, and not anxious, at any rate. "Ever since I met you, here, after what seems like a lifetime ago...my world has never been the same. I never imagined a literal pop star would ever look my way, let alone talk to me. You've taught me so much about actually living, and loving...and to never take anything for granted."

Odette pauses again, getting the box ready in her pocket.

"You've also taught me patience, and to love myself, and to never judge a book by its cover. You're my best friend. My confidant. My north star. I want to spend the rest of eternity with you, for however long that lasts. So, um, will you do me the honor of, uh...hold on..."

After a few fumbling attempts and only a little blushing, Odette manages to take the box out of her pocket, and opens in it front of Verosika. The succubus is wide-eyed, the pink of the diamond shining back at Odette through her eyes. Odette finishes her question with only a little bit of a flush on her face. She hopes Verosika will forgive her awkwardness.

"Will you marry me, Verosika?"

Odette doesn't even have to wait for an answer. One minute, she's kneeling at Verosika's feet, and the next, Verosika is lifting her off the ground, and placing her on the table on her back. The rest of their food and drink be damned. It gets everywhere. Odette's glad she's not wearing one of her lab coats, because it's soaking into the black pants suit she wore for the occassion. She puts the ring down on the table, before she drops it.

Verosika kisses her, full and flagrant, forcefully on the lips, and pulls away with a smack! She only lifts from Odette long enough to screech into the room, "Yes! Fuck, Odette, yes! I will!" before she's kissing her again, pushing Odette even more into the table. Odette worries they might be causing a scene. Unfortunately, her fears are confirmed, because Fizzarolli's already making obscene hand gestures behind the stage, grinning with his tongue out the side of his mouth.

So much for being discrete.

Fuck it, Odette thinks. Let him watch. She brings Verosika down further on top of her, and really starts sucking face with her girlfriend -- no, her fiancé -- right there on the table. Ozzie and Fizz give them two pairs of thumbs up, but neither of them notice. They're too busy celebrating, in their own little world, ignoring the captive audience behind them.

#hazbin hotel #helluva boss #odette hazbin hotel #verosika mayday #asmodeus helluva boss #fizzarolli helluva boss #odesika #ask #anon #fan theories #carmilla carmine #sera hazbin hotel #seramilla #zestial hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #10] Blonde

warnings: b is in her bleach era. love that for her!! jaykay is in the chapter for like 1.5 seconds and still manages to be the best thing about it. also if u think wow holly sometimes your chapters end very similarly, uhhh yes. ur right. mainly because my brain is smooth but also because jungkook is a creature of habit! it’s within his character traits! not because im stupid! even if i am!

soundtrack: space - audrey nuna;  blonde - maisie peters

wc: 3.5k

bd total wc: 540k (on-going)

minors dni | AO3 | series masterlist 

You suppose you really shouldn't be surprised when Seokjin leaves you on read. It happens as soon as he escapes the city, just like it always does. 

It's always the same; he'll come back to town for a few days - to visit friends, his family, or maybe for a haircut with the only barber he trusts - then leaves just as quickly as he comes.

The predictability of it all would be funny, you think, but your knees are getting worn out from how many times you fall for it; his charm, his deception, his pretty lips that soothe the burn of his selfish choices. 

He'll be radio silent for a while, and then suddenly, as if he's finally changed the batteries in his walkie-talkie, he won't be. It'll most likely be when he's on his way back to town in a few months time.

The saddest part is that you know you'll want to see him when he does. Will have the burning desire to show him just how well you've been; how well you've coped without him.

Most of all? You'll want him to know just how much you don't need him.

Inevitably, he'll end up in your bed, and you'll end up all in your head - again - overthinking and underestimating just how easy it is for him to drop you. Forgetting just how badly he fucked you up, only for him to remind you in the most callous of ways.

When Danbi comes home on Thursday night - three days since Seokjin's last message - she knows exactly what's happened. You've got a special kind of pout reserved for Seokjin-related upsets. It's always a little soft yet incredibly hard to break.

"You gotta stop letting him in," she says over a glass of red. She hates the taste, but loves the soft buzz in the pit of her stomach. Though she's much better suited to Moscato, Danbi will never turn her nose up at free wine.

If she knew why you were drinking it, she might consider rejecting it.

Seokjin's favourite. You'd bought it on the way home from work. Just couldn't help yourself.

Had figured that at least when you hugged yourself to sleep that evening, your lips would taste like his used to do, on the nights when he'd tell you that you're the most delightful thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. Would be all giggly. Wine drunk. Happy. In love.

But it's been a while since he did that. Feels like a lifetime ago, now. 

You shrug as you let the ruby red liquid swirl in your glass. Fighting against your feelings feels like swimming against the tide.

Always struggling to breathe. Never winning. Failing. Falling. 

"I don't know how to, Dan."

"But you do," she insists.

And she's right. Of course you do. 

His number has never been blocked, but a simple restriction of access to you would solve so many of your problems.

Thing is, you kind of like him still being your problem. At least that way, on a technicality, he's still yours. Kind of.

Every time he comes back to the city, it's still your bed that he ends up in.

Never for the night. Just for an hour or two - but for long enough for you to convince yourself that he can't stay away.

The lies you let your mind whisper are insidious. You're irresistible. He's still just as affected by you as you are by him. He can't possibly leave you.

And yet he does, each and every time.

He doesn't ever let you go. Not fully. Whenever you think you're getting over it, he shows up just to get you under him; his thumb, his spell, his body.

You're halfway through the bottle of wine when Danbi tells you once more that you need to get Seokjin out of your hair.

You've reached the end of it by the time you're grabbing your purse and heading for the closest Olive Young.

It's just down the street, by the crossroads that lead into town, and the staff there have seen you in worse states. A little tipsy has nothing on the mascara-stained eyes they used to be greeted with during the worst days of the breakup.

"Sure about this?" Danbi asks just to check before you take the boxes in your hands to the counter.

"Absolutely not - but he always hated me blonde," you grin a little sardonically. The happiness that comes with this change will be temporary, but you have to remind yourself that so was he. "At least even if I can't resist him, he'll resist me."

Peroxide and perhaps a little fried, your blonde hair had caught his attention in the early days - but you had dyed your hair dark in a bid to keep it. 

He'd said some bullshit in a conversation amongst friends about his preferences, and how he favoured the 'natural look'. You weren't together at the time, not officially - but everyone there was a friend of his. They all knew you'd be going home with him. It only took two boxes of dye to get him asking to be exclusive. A week later he was introducing you to his friends as his girlfriend. 

Funny what a little bit of conformity can do for a man who loves playing by the rules. 

You assume his desire to tick the boxes and do what is expected of him is also why he was such a bellend when it came to the glitter you liked to dust yourself in. 

Nobody's perfect though, so he was willing to overlook it. Was just one of the flaws he perceived in you. When you love someone, you accept them.

He ultimately never grew to love it, but for a while, you thought he might.

Bleach boxes in one hand, another bottle of wine in the other, you waste no time and head straight for the bathroom. Danbi follows you right in. She's always there to lend a hand or at least provide a Spotify playlist to get you through your woes. 

Folding the powder into the developing lotion by the sink, you know your bleach-induced bathroom antics could get you a spot in a Brad Mondo video.

All a little haphazard, you're without a mixing bowl and brush, so are having to use an old takeout container and a plastic spoon, instead.

It's not quite how the instructions suggest you should mix it all up, but no good ever comes from following the rules.

You'd tried for Seokjin, and look where that got you.

Unlike him, trusty Tupperware has never done you dirty before. No reason why it should now. 

Danbi sits on the closed toilet seat, legs crossed, a small bottle of bubbles in her hand. The bubbles had been a Christmas party favour from the office job she'd quit four months ago. Rediscovered when she'd been cleaning her room earlier that day, Danbi had taken to blowing pretty little bubble flurries your way all afternoon. 

Your reflection is captured in the peacock sheen of the bubbles while you study your rapidly developing hair in the mirror. 

You haven't bothered to change out of your shirt. It's not yours. One of Seokjin's. It's navy, and you hope the bleach ruins it.

"I think I've fucked up," you say all rather calmy, talking about your hair and not the shirt. It's not the end of the world if you have. Just hair, you always think.

Danbi shrugs. Has clearly spent too much time in your company, because she echoes exactly what you're thinking: "Just hair, babe. It'll grow."

That's the joy of your friendship; you both encourage each other with the same dumb remarks whenever you feel like you've reached the point of no return. 

After all, if you can't go back? 

Go forward.

"Plus," she adds, blowing more bubbles instead of taking a breath. "You can just chalk it up to being your hot mess era."

"Been in that for months already," you smile at her in the reflection of the mirror. You prod a little at your roots, and know that you definitely should have waited a little longer to work the bleach up to them. Bollocks.

You've done this enough times to know you'll end up with a gold band haloing around the top of your hair thanks to how easily your roots always lift. Nightmare. 

"Exactly, so you may as well look the part," Danbi encourages. Worst influence going, she is. Also the best at times, too. You find comfort in the fact she won't always say what you want to hear, but what you need to hear instead.

The conversation dissolves into empty chatter, gossip about Danbi's dog walking clients, mentions of Taehyung and how he's still trying to talk her into a mates-rates discount despite the fact they aren't actually 'mates'. She asked you about your Bartender That Smiles, and you say he's all good - before you have to insist there's nothing going on there. 

"He's got issues with his ex," you explain.

She rolls her eyes. "Don't they all? Boys and their first loves, I swear to God."

"Not sure she was his first," you defend, though you're not sure why. The thought lingers as you rummage around for an old tube of toner that you know you have hiding in the bathroom cabinet somewhere. It's been a while since your hair was pale enough to take toner, so it's been pushed right to the back.

Danbi is shooed from her perch on the toilet seat and into the living room as you let the shower run to heat it a little.  

The first crash of water against your skin is lukewarm. Tepid. Unappealing, but necessary. 

You hate anything other than boiling-you-alive degrees Celsius, but know you need to be kind to your hair after the torture you've put it through. The water runs cloudy until the bleach is rinsed out, and then it runs purple thanks to your silver shampoo. It pools around your feet and seeps into the drain. Wishful thinking has you hoping memories of Seokjin will do just the same.

It's just to preemptively tone it, but you can't help but worry about the pigment taking too strongly on your roots. 

The ash toner you found in the cupboard is in a box by the sink. You plan on putting that over the top of whatever mess your hair is anyway, but it doesn't hurt to get a head start on the process. 

The water glistens a deep violet, briefly coating your skin - and for some reason, all you can think about is Jeongguk, and how you'd really like to be downing a Purple Starfucker (or five) with him right now. He really is the perfect distraction. 

Still, you have a task at hand. You rinse your hair; ring it out. Sigh as you frown at the mess that greets you in the mirror - lilac roots, a yellow band haloing just like your thought it would, and silver ends. Brilliant.

It's as you're sitting with Danbi in the living room a little while later - body wrapped in a towel that isn't half as fluffy as Jeongguk's favourite, ashy toner smothering your peroxide blonde hair - that you notice your phone flash on the coffee table.

Danbi clocks it first, and stifles a laugh as she reads the screen. "Isn't that the guy from the club?"

You assume she means Jeongguk, and are a little perplexed to see it's Jimin's name on your screen instead. 

"Yeah... Jimin. Smooth talker, shit shagger."

"A glowing review."

"Hey, I still let him think he was good," you say as you reach for your phone to read his message out loud to Danbi. "You guys out tomorrow night?"

Sipping on her wine, Danbi raises a brow. Shakes her head in confusion. "He hoping for round two?"

"Fuck knows."

It's just gone midnight, so you consider maybe he's thinking about his desire for a hook-up, and is hoping for a safe bet in the form of you. 

And so you don't reply. If he double texts, you'll just lie and say you've fallen asleep.

The scent of your toner is beginning to give you a headache, so you go to rinse it and bid farewell to your final day as a brunette.

Sleep evades you. Doesn't want to let go of who you were, apparently. Wine makes you sleepy, and yet you're wired as if you've just had a triple shot americano.

But then it's three in the morning, and all you can seem to smell is the deep conditioner you bathed your hair in that evening. 

Somehow, when you look to the empty space beside you - delicately ruffled, a dent prevailing in the pillow - you convince yourself that you can smell fig leaves and coconut. The notes of his favourite aftershave linger like the ache in your chest. It's hollow, and you can't work out why it hurts quite as much as it does. 

If there's nothing there, how can it be so painful?

You sniff back tears that fail to truly form and pull your phone from beneath your pillow. It's hard to move your fingers when they're tangled up in puppet strings that Seokjin is refusing to let go of, but eventually you manage to tap through some Instagram stories in a bid to distract yourself from him. 

Inspirational quotes don't do much for you, nor do the engagement pictures of people you haven't given a second thought since graduation. There's an abundance of them. Smiling faces. Diamonds, or maybe just cubic zirconia. Fresh sets of nails, hands that are pink and warm from the heat of whoever's been holding them.

It's a curious thought; what people who haven't spoken to you in years must think of you now. 

You were the one who was going to succeed. Going far in life, made for a boardroom, would look incredible in a pantsuit - and yet you're working in a cafe, first-class degree of no more worth than the tissue paper you flush down the toilet. 

See, you switched out life goals for glitter. You wear it like armour; protect yourself from the world around you. Who cares about seriousness and success when you're a constant disco? Not you. Could never be you.

Or at least, you hope that's what people think. Hope that no one realises you're covering yourself in artificial shine; like a canvas in acrylic because you were too impatient to watch the oil paint dry.

One day you'll glow. Glow for real. 

For a while, you thought you had been with Seokjin. 

All you see when you look in the mirror these days is tarnished silver; copper alloy pretending to be much more than what it really is. Your skin will turn green eventually.

There is, however, one person you've managed to fool. 

When his story pops up - a repost of tomorrow night's paint party event at Dionysus - you find yourself clicking through to your DM thread without much thought. You know he's at work. Know it's a 50/50 whether or not he'll get back to you before your mind begins to berate you again for how miserable you feel. 

It's a simple message - hey - and you're pleased that it's met with an equally simple reply not even a minute later.

JustJK: To what do I owe the pleasure?

You decided that 'I'm about to cry over my shitbag ex so chose to message you instead' probably won't be Jeongguk's favourite thing to hear, so you opt for a little white lie.

You: Just wondering how the kids are <3

Part of you worries he won't understand what the fuck you're on about - but of course, he does. He's Jeongguk. Gets you better than you get yourself, these days.

JustJK:  Missing their mother. 

JustJK:  Perry the Pigeon almost fell earlier.

JustJK:  Roger the Robin looks like he has a broken wing.

JustJK: Must be one of yours. Inherited his mother's wonkiness <3

With each message that comes through, your smile grows wider in the midnight darkness of your bedroom. 

You: Careful or I'll file for joint custody.

You: Get poor Roger away from his father's cruel remarks </3

There's an ease to how you joke together, both aware of how unserious you are. There's no second-guessing, no worrying about saying the wrong thing. If you do, you'll say sorry and move on. No harm, no foul.

JustJK: Your appeal won't hold up in court, Byeol.

JustJK:  You've neglected them ever since you spawned them.

JustJK:  Haven't even paid them a visit!!!

Laughter stifles in your throat as your body curls up into a more comfortable position. The audacity of this boy, you think, ignoring the way he manages to get you entirely focused on something that isn't your own despair.

You:  You've got full custody!!!

JustJK:  And you're still allowed to come for supervised visits!!!!!

JustJK:  smh and to think you call yourself their mother.

JustJK: I'm their mother now.

You pout at your screen, and whine a small little 'nooo'. 

You:  They need me :(

JustJK: Come and see them, then. They miss their mother.

You:  Tomorrow?

He reads the messages instantly, but takes a little longer than usual to reply. It worries you slightly. Makes you more aware of your surroundings. The scent of Seokjin's aftershave begins to permeate the air once more.

Until, all rather suddenly, it doesn't anymore.

JustJK:  I'm not working tomorrow night, but Jimin's insisting on going to the paint party - you coming?

You:  Will Perry the Pigeon be there?

JustJK: If he falls before I leave for the club, then yes.

It's not a bad proposition. One that quite intrigues you. One that has you agreeing, and him telling you to fuck off and go to sleep. He's got work to do, he says. 

It's actually quite quiet at the club - Yeonjun just caught him looking at his phone with a dumb smile a few too many times for Jeongguk's liking. Doesn't wanna get caught out again. 

Especially doesn't want him catching onto the fact that there's a reason Jeongguk's eyes light up like Disco Balls when he looks at his phone.

Yeonjun doesn't really have friends who are girls, Jeongguk reasons with himself. Won't understand that he's perfectly capable of having a little flirt without it meaning anything more than that - after all, isn't that just what banter is? Friendly flirting? He does it with the boys all the time. Doesn't mean fuck all. Just fun.

Jeongguk's a couple of years older than his cerulean-haired coworker, and has learnt the hard way that you really shouldn't escalate friends above the level of purely platonic. One day Yeonjun will realise this. 

For now, though, Yeonjun'll shag anyone who looks at him in the right direction. Has probably already ruined a few good friendships. Doesn't even realise he's done it.

Jeongguk trusts himself not to make the same mistakes he's made in the past with you. Thinks that he's pretty happy with how things are. Has missed the dynamics of friendships with girls. Is looking forward to Monday movie night with you and Danbi again.

And yet when he gets home to find Perry the paper pigeon on his bed, he can't help but smile.

You wake up to a picture of the fallen bird in your DMs - and even though you'll whine and complain about it when you see him that evening, all you can do is smile, too.

JustJK:  Looks like we're having a wholesome family trip to Dionysus tonight.

You: Mummy and Daddy reunited at last <33 Perry will be so happy.

JustJK: It's okay, you don't have to lie.

JustJK:  I know you're talking about yourself, not Perry.

Jeongguk doesn't send the message where he tells you not to call him Daddy. Knows you'll read into it; tease him about it. It's not like he's got a thing for it, or anything, he just... maybe wouldn't be opposed to it, and so he'd rather not be called it when he's having casual conversations with you. Wouldn't wanna get flustered. 

Part of you already knows this. Is precisely why you'd said it. It's not really your style, not the kind of thing that gets you going.

But it is also exactly why you choose to end your next message with, 'See you tonight, Daddy x'.

You're laughing as you send it.

And as he receives it, Jeongguk groans. Buries his head into his pillow. Crumples Perry a little in the process. Whines. 

"Don't fuck this up, Jeongguk."

AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT

[lovininapinkcadillac]

There is a line in the song U.S. Male from Elvis and is goes “She is wearin’ a ring that I bought her on sale. And that makes her property of this U.S. Male.” I mean I would let this man call me his property! 🫠🥵😮‍💨 Like I have said I once knew this girl named feminism bit when it comes to this man I don’t think feminism and I run in the same circles anymore. 

#elvis aaron presley #Elvis #elvis presley #EP #the king #my king #oh my man i love him so #oh lawdy #i love him your honor #he is so perfect #he can all me his property #I would be on my knees if that ever happened #the king of rock n roll #elvis the king #I want him so bad #but I won’t be able to have him #he is giving off crime boss vibes #like don’t talk my girl look at my girl #or the Memphis Mon is going to come and kill you