#Just to see her face when her plan failed

[daycourtofficial]

One single thread of gold tied me to you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 6.2k | Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, piv, foodplay (chocolate), oral (f and m receiving)

Summary: After a century of waiting, Eris and his mate finally have a few days to themselves to accept the mating bond.

Author's note: this is technically part of my gingerfucker series but it can be read as a standalone. Big thanks to @basketoffish for help with plotting the idea for it and for helping me edit ❤️ The people have been frothing and yearning for this and who am I deny such want any longer?

Eris never had good timing. Born too soon, bearing the brunt of his father’s cruelties. Born into a war he was too young to fight in, but too old to stay at home. 

All of his poor timing was worth it for this perfect opportunity. Beron would be away for three days and three nights to improve relations with Tarquin, the newest High Lord of the Summer Court. Beron went alone - he perceived it as much more intimidating to go alone (perhaps inspired by Tamlin’s appearance in the High Lord’s meeting a few years ago, winnowing in completely unaccompanied). Beron failed to recognize Tamlin’s appearance was much bolder - he knew he would face scrutiny, but still made an appearance without anyone at his side. Beron merely did it because he wanted to look more intimidating.

Nonetheless, Eris was able to send word to you with enough time for you to rearrange your royal appearances to carve out this time with him - an entire three day span, just the two of you. Three days felt like a lifetime when the two of you were only able to schedule hour-long secret meetings.

Once, in a desperate bid just to have your scent on him, you two had met for a total of twenty minutes.

Your rendezvous were often short, full of imminent risk and danger of being caught. Today felt like a blessing from the Mother, as if she were granting her star crossed lovers a vacation, a peek into what life could be like - what life will be like one day.

You two just had to be patient.

Even an entire court away, Beron would know someone from the Night Court was on his land. Perhaps not immediately, but he would know before your three days were over. So the two of you met in the Winter Court, in a cabin you were gifted a long, long time ago. A cabin you’ve gone to on occasion over the years, whenever you needed to get away and be alone. You had set the trap perfectly for your family - you were getting into petty squabbles the entire week, picking fights with Cassian and Mor left and right that left the two of them reeling with annoyance.

Your brother tired of it quite quickly, clocking it for what he thought it was. 

“Perhaps you should spend a weekend away, star.”

His tone was full of concern, for this was how you always were before retreating to your hidden cabin. Irritable, crabby, unable to have decent conversation with anyone without leading them into a spiral of anger.

“I’m fine,” you reply, intentionally clipping the words to make yourself seem in a much worse state than you were. “Besides, I have some scheduled meetings this weekend.”

Rhys nods, “Feyre has agreed to take over any duties you have that can’t be rescheduled.”

You perked up at that, feeling a little bad at the generosity of his mate. You hadn’t felt easy about this plan - preying upon your family to get what you wanted wasn’t a regular occurrence for you. 

But you refused to let any negative feelings about what you were doing get in the way of seeing your mate.

“Are you sure, Rhys?”

He waves a hand, “Go, please only return once you feel rested and headache-free. Cassian is quite adept at giving migraines.”

You smile, “so no one will bother me?”

He sighs at your continued questioning, “no, star. I think we’d be too afraid to bother you, except for Amren. And she’s in Summer for who knows how long.”

He stands up, crossing the room to you, his long legs practically gliding across the floor. He wraps you in his arms, squeezing you tightly before kissing you on the top of your head. He gently sways the two of you as you wrap your arms around him.

“Thanks, Rhys.”

He lays his head on top of your own, “just send word if you’ll be gone longer than a week. I just want to know you’re alive out there.”

This cabin was a frequent rendezvous point for the two of you, much cozier than the large clearings and forests you two otherwise frequent. The cabin was more ideal, however Eris couldn’t deny how incredible it felt to be inside of you as he leaned you up against various trees in the forest, the leaves crunching beneath his boots as he thrusted over and over into you.

His cock twitched at the thought as he walked towards the front door of the cabin. The door groaned slightly as he entered, marking his entrance. He felt the slight magical barrier ripple as he passed the threshold. He shut the door behind him, taking in the small, two bedroom cabin before him. 

The place was quaint and cozy, an insult he would use to describe Rhysand’s absurdly large and ornate homes, but for you it was a testament to how infectious the comfort you radiated was.

It permeated every surface - the walls, covered in various portraits and landscape paintings, along with shelves of books and trinkets.

His scent was stale from the last time he was here, but yours was fresh, as was the smell of some delicious meats and fresh breads. He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the door, catching a glimpse of you as you pittered about the kitchen. He crossed his arms over his chest, allowing himself a moment to think of what his life could be like if the two of you were ordinary fae. 

He would come home from whatever job he had, perhaps a scholar of some kind, leaving at the same time every day to come home to his mate. 

You two would clean your house together, bickering over your inability in any universe to put dirty socks in the hamper, and how in every universe feet would continue to make Eris shudder in disgust. In any other life, he would be thrilled to experience monotony with you.

But he’s not in another life, one of openness and free-flowing adoration, one free of constant plotting and scheming, earning favors wherever he can. He’s in this one - the reality where no one knows about the two of you, because once they do it will become an inter-court political nightmare. It is a life of stolen glances, hidden messages, and secret meetings under the moonlight, but it is a life that belongs to him, when for so long his life was not his own.

Eris would love you in all lives, your soul reaching to him in every iteration and reincarnation of the two of you. If the two of you were nothing but bacteria living on the same organism’s skin, he would find you. He would know it was you, no matter what shade of organism you wore.

The bond hums in your chest, tugging you to look towards the door where you know Eris is standing and watching. You continue the task at hand, not wanting anything to miss your notice. The bond deep inside of you grows more and more insistent, screaming at you to smell him, taste him, feel him, here, here, here. He’s here, in your house, and you need to look, look, look. 

You let Eris come to you, just as you always had, just as you always will. You’re slicing bread, placing the pieces in the bottom of the bowls when the smell of petrichor and caramel hits your nose, a warm presence at your back. 

“Good evening, my fox.” 

His face burrows into your neck at the nickname, melting into everything that was you. His arms wrapped around you, hands meeting yours. His fingers pull the knife from your grip, gently placing it down on the cutting board.

“What are you doing, my evening star?” His voice is purposefully low in your ear, causing goosebumps to trail down your neck, his hands warming your fingers. 

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

His soft chuckle warms your chest, the bond constricting around your heart at his amusement.

“Are you cooking?”

“Yes, Er.”

“I’m surprised your wraiths didn’t prepare anything for you.”

“They did,” you hum, turning in his arms, his amber eyes meeting yours, not quite certain of what they’re seeing.

His hands meet your hips, his touch warm on your skin, and you circle your arms around his neck, fingers raking through his hair at the root.

He hums at your touch, his face swooping down to kiss your forehead. 

You look up at him under your eyelashes, his nose and cheeks littered with freckles, mapping out where home was. You point your head in the direction of two large picnic baskets, one of which was opened for Eris to see various jars of jams and breads.

“Why would you-” his words fall short, his thoughts racing through his mind. They stream by in words and bits of phrases, but no completed thoughts make their way through the whirl and swirl of mate, food, and bond.

He short circuits, not quite grasping what you’re getting at.

“I have never gotten to cook for you,” you shrug nonchalantly.

His eye twitches, still not understanding.

“You’re cooking… for me?” His words come out slow and uncertain, as if the mere concept of someone choosing to do something like this was absolutely foreign to him. You nod slowly, not used to seeing Eris so incapable of understanding. 

“But if you-“

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll-“ 

“Yes.”

“Are you-“

“Yes.”

He stills, his thumb lightly brushing against your hip. Your eyes are open and bright, wanting to convey to him the certainty you felt. You lightly tug on the bond connecting the two of you and he rubs his chest at the feeling.

It’s quiet as the snow falls outside, unaware of the monumental decision you had decided on once Eris’s letter had arrived earlier in the week. You had spent the past few months researching traditional autumn foods, preparing for this day. You had known for quite a while you were going to accept the bond, you just didn’t know when the two of you would have the chance to spend more than a few fleeting hours together. You had sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother when you received Eris’s letter, soft prayers echoing through your mind each night ensuring this would all work. 

“Is everything ready?”

His eyes peer into yours, a vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see, even you. His words come out soft and slightly timid, as if he’s worried he’ll scare you off.

“Yes, we just have to bring the food to the table.”

“May I help?” He doesn’t move towards the food, but one of his hands twitches, moving imperceptibly closer to you.

“I would appreciate that.”

It’s quiet as you two move to the food, grabbing platters and bowls to bring to the table. Once the table is full, a three course meal laid out in front of the two of you, the reality set in a bit. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Eris, but you were slightly concerned you were forcing his hand with this. 

This was always ‘someday’, but now it was here and you didn’t know how he truly felt about it. That was until he grabbed your plate, placing the still warm pita in front of you. You placed a piece of pita on his own plate, and he looked at the baba ganoush before him, its texture so unlike anything he had seen in Autumn. “What do I do?”

You ripped a piece of your pita off, dipping it into the bowl, grabbing some of the baba ganoush on it before offering it to him. He inspects the piece, before doing the same with his own piece of pita, bringing the piece to your mouth. 

“Eat. This might be the last time we’re rational enough for food.”

The two of you bite down on the pita, the warmth of the bread with the chill of the baba ganoush, the smoky, rich flavor exploding in your mouths. The room immediately shifted with the scent of your mixed arousals, but the two of you ignored it. His fingers lingered on your mouth, swiping at your lips before ripping off another piece of pita.

Heat was coursing through your veins, Eris’s emotions thrumming through you at a higher intensity. He felt electric in your veins.

You continue feeding each other until the pita’s gone and your attention shifts to the bouillabaisse. In similar fashion, the two of you poured the soup into the bowls with the bread before setting them down. You were thrumming, every part of you screamed to be closer to him, your thoughts having a background loop of mate, mate, mate.

“How did you know about bouillabaisse?”

Eris’s words send heat through you - his voice, soft and low, the actual words not registering with your insatiable need for him.

“Beg your pardon?”

His smirk is feline as he knows exactly why you didn’t hear him, but he repeats his question with no teasing.

“I um, found it a few months ago - I was in Dawn and a little restaurant served it.”

You could feel the sweat on your brow as you watched Eris’s fingers bring another spoonful to his mouth. You thought about all the things he could do with those fingers, that mouth, that tongue-

“Nobody in Dawn serves this. It is a regional dish, more specifically it is only found on the seaside of Autumn.”

Busted. 

You take another bite of the soup, the flavors so different from Night Court cuisine, but you weren’t complaining. Several of the fish in the soup were only found along the coast of Autumn and Winter, some making it as far north as Dawn.

“I may have perused some Autumn Court restaurants when I was visiting once.”

Eris stretches out the fingers of his hand, moving his long fingers in torturous preparation before placing his hand on your thigh. His touch was so warm, you began pulling at the collar of your dress to let the heat escape, biting your lip to keep the moan from escaping.

“When were you allowed in Autumn?”

“Fine,” your voice came out sharp, the room much too hot for an interrogation, “I snuck into Autumn a few months ago trying to find something to make you for this. I tried a bouillabaisse at this incredible little restaurant and I paid them an exorbitant amount of gold to teach me how to make it and to not tell anyone I was there. I slipped back in yesterday to pick up the fish in this soup.”

His fingers dance about on your thigh, and you take a quick glance down at his pants, your body growing warmer at his cock pressing across his pants, desperate to be released. You can’t move your eyes away from it - knowing how it looked, how it felt in your mouth, how it tasted - you were about to start drooling before Eris’s hand came up and closed your jaw.

“Strip.”

Eris’s words were a demand, full of power and need.

“But we still have dess-“

Your words died on your tongue as Eris began unbuttoning his shirt, your eyes caught on his lean chest, littered with freckles. You were in need, too, practically salivating at your mate’s display of his body, and you can’t quite remember why you wanted him to finish the whole meal.

He huffs over to you, his hands grabbing the fabric of your dress, ripping it in half down the middle. You gasp as the cold air meets your skin, somehow making your nipples even harder.

You stare at him wide eyed, even more aroused than before. At this point, you knew your panties were doing very little to keep your arousal from coating your thighs.

“You took too long,” he snarls, undoing the ties of his pants.

You had begun pulling the remnants of your dress off your shoulder, but stopped to watch your mate hook his thumbs into his trousers and pull them down, letting his cock free. 

You move forward, ready to jump on Eris, but his hand on your chest stops you, eliciting a whine from you. His other hand grabs the molten chocolate cake you had made, slowly lifting it out of the ramekin. He holds it delicately in his hand, the other hand on your chest moving up to your hair, tugging gently on the strands to pull you towards him.

Your chests were touching, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. He blazed with heat, his cock hard with need pressed into your stomach. His cheeks are dusted with pink and his blood was boiling inside of him, but he moved ever so slowly, his fingers meeting your chin. He looked into your eyes, the two of you the only beings in the world right now.

“My mate.”

Anything could be happening outside of the walls of this cabin. The snow could have all melted, a heat wave sending the Winter Court into chaos, and you wouldn’t know. All you would know was Eris’s gaze on you, mapping out every inch of your body so he can remember every detail correctly when he thinks about this once you two are apart. His thumb applied pressure on your chin, opening your mouth. He placed the cake in your mouth, whispering, “don’t bite, not yet.”

You moved your hands to his hips, holding onto him. One of his hands moves to help hold the cake up, his other holding onto your neck. He puts the other end of the small cake into his mouth and lightly tugs on the bond. You both bite into it, the liquid chocolate center immediately cascading down and coating both of your chests. You both make quick work of finishing the remainder of the cake, tearing and gnawing at the soft dessert until you finish it off. He catches your lips in a kiss, the taste of the chocolate a luxury on his tongue.

You jump, feet slipping slightly on the bits of chocolate that made it to the floor. Eris’s arms catch underneath your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips. He lays you down on the table, moving his lips from your mouth, down the column of your throat, down your chest. You’re pulsing with need, desperate to feel any friction from him. You thrust your hips up, desperate to meet any feeling of him against you. His arm moves across your hips, pushing you down against the table. He shakes his head as he keeps kissing down your stomach, lifting his arm for a ring of fire to take its place around your waist.

He skips over where you want him, instead moving his head down to your thigh, licking up towards your hips. His tongue was hot as it slid up your inner thigh, lapping up the chocolate that had dripped down it. Your breathing was ragged as you felt his hot tongue growing closer and closer to you, and it felt like it was getting warmer the further it moved up your thigh. 

You looked down at him, his amber eyes that were full of heat all you can see of his face as his tongue finally slips between your folds. You moan at the contact, throwing your head back and hitting it harshly against the table. The pain didn’t register, not as Eris - your mate - was moving his tongue as if he knew every part of you, as if he knew exactly how you felt as he would warm and cool his tongue at his leisure. He lifted his mouth just an inch, his words slightly muffled by your body.

“You taste of desperation. It’s delicious.”

You moan at his words, and he flicks your clit with his tongue. His hands warm on your thighs, pressing them further apart. He slips his tongue back through your folds, your hands gripping onto his hair to keep his mouth on you. He grabs your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders before one of his hands disappears. You are writhing on the table, his grip on you lighting your skin on fire. The room grows heavier with the scent of his arousal, and you twitch your ears at the new sound in the room.

He was moaning into your pussy, the vibrations coursing through your body as you realized the hand that left you was wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously. The thought of him being so aroused at eating you out that he has to touch himself sends you over the edge, your thighs clenching over his ears as you finish on his tongue. Your breathing was heavy, and Eris’s tongue did not let up, lapping like a starved male. You pulled him up by his hair, bringing your face to his. Your tongue swipes into his mouth, tasting a combination of yourself and chocolate on his mouth. You grab his shoulders, deepening the kiss as you flip him onto his back, pressing him onto the table. His hands grip onto your hips, trying to push you onto him, desperate for any touch from you. He whimpers as you tug his hair, pulling him into you.

You place teasing bites as you move down his torso, leaving mark after mark in a line towards his happy trail. You purposefully rub your breasts against his cock, smiling up at him as he groans, your breath hot on his crotch.

You lick from underneath his shaft, your tongue slowly moving from the base to the tip before putting his cock completely in your mouth. He tasted like cinnamon with a little salt, the chocolate flavor on your tongue making him taste incredible. His hands move, gripping onto your hair as he chants your name - a prayer, a plea, you weren’t sure. Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock and his hips thrusted trying to push himself deeper into your mouth. 

You wanted to tease him about needing to touch himself while his mouth was on you, but you felt the same compulsions as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. You resist the urge to move your fingers to yourself by digging your nails into Eris’s thighs, leaving half moon indents. His grip grew tighter on your hair, pushing your head down harder as he got closer to finishing, his moans filling the cabin as he finished, the hot taste of cinnamon filling your mouth and coating your throat as you swallow it. You pull your mouth off of him, his cock twitching again at the look you give him as you lick your lips.

He growled and you swiped your tongue up his still hard cock. He lunged for you, jumping off the table before his teeth sink onto your nipple, pulling the skin with his teeth. You gasp, pinching his nipple back in response. 

“Do you think there’s something there about eating to accept the bond and what we just did?”

You waggle your brows at him, but his eyes are a bottomless pit of black. Gone are the amber hues of fallen leaves, replaced by an endless void of hunger. You lean up to kiss him, the taste of both of you swirling between your tongues. You start walking backward, knocking into one of the chairs. He catches you, one arm hooking around your waist. 

His pointer finger moves up from your belly button to your neck, swiping up the chocolate left behind. He puts his finger in your mouth, having you suck the chocolate off. 

“Maybe we should get cleaned up.”

You smiled around his finger, swirling your tongue around it as you looked up at him from under your lashes. You nodded, taking his whole finger into your mouth. He breathes in deeply through his nose, his eyes swirling with desire before you. His other arm loops around your waist, carrying you through the cabin. Your giggles echoed down the hallway as Eris moved the two of you into the bathroom. He doesn’t set you down, shifting instead to hold you up against the wall with one arm while he turns the shower on. 

The water started cascading down the both of you, sweeping the remnants of the chocolate down the drain. Your feet hit the floor as Eris pushes the two of you forward, your back hitting the wall. The water fell over your face, making it hard to see him, but you could feel everything about him. You felt his skin on yours, your chests pushed together. You felt his emotions thrumming inside of you, bouncing everywhere, filling every available space. You had heard of the bond being accepted as an all-consuming thing, but you found any previous descriptions to be wholly inadequate. Every inch of you burned for him, thrumming with need to be near, to have him with you, to have him inside of you. 

He grabs the bar of soap from the shower, lathering it onto a wet washcloth before rubbing it against your body, rubbing the chocolate from both yours and his skin. 

“I never thought accepting the bond would be so messy.”

Eris’s hand guided the wash cloth across your shoulders, your sternum, before taking his time as he rubbed it against your breasts. His thigh slid between your legs, separating them. Lean muscle pressed against your cunt as you sank onto his thigh. His lips were on your mouth as you ground onto his thigh. He tossed aside the washcloth, his hands gripped your hips, harshly moving you against his thigh. 

“My beautiful, beautiful mate.” 

His voice was husky, echoing through the shower, further cementing that feeling he was everywhere.

“Gonna fall apart on my thigh?”

His lips move down your neck, teeth sinking into skin.

“We have all weekend for me to put every part of me to good use.”

You threw your head back, hitting the wall softly. One of Eris’s hands moves behind your head, cushioning the blow. His grip is unforgiving as he continues moving you, his thigh rubbing your clit so perfectly. Eris looked so beautiful before you, his pale skin a soft shade of pink from the heat radiating off of him. 

His irises have shrunk enough for you to see a slither of the amber you love so much. You could feel him thrumming in your chest and you swore if you looked down, the room would be alight with the gold tie between you two. You gripped his shoulders as he pressed his thigh into harder, sending you over the edge. 

You’re reeling from the orgasm, but Eris’s grip doesn’t let up. He uses his other leg to spread your legs again, and his hands move down to your ass, picking you up before sliding his cock into you. It feels right when he’s inside of you, the pounding in your head subsiding, the heat dissipating for just a moment before it was replaced with the need for more, more, more.

Your head moves across the tiled wall as Eris thrusts into you. You grip his hair, pulling his face to you again before kissing his mouth, needing to feel him everywhere. You’re all teeth as you nip and bite across his neck, up his jaw, on his earlobes. The shower does little to hide the whimper he lets out. 

His fingers grab your face, pulling you from his ear to his mouth. He kisses you hard and passionately before pulling out of you and turning you around. Your hands press into the wall as his hands roam down the sides of your body, sending chills throughout you.

One of his hands ran through your hair, wrapping it around his hand, the other wrapping around your waist, holding your back to his chest. The water streamed down the two of you, but you hardly noticed as he kissed your neck, pushing you against the wall.

You moan, pushing your ass against his cock. He growls as one of his hands traces from your hip down to your upper inner thigh, gripping tightly.

He bit your shoulder blade, pushing deeper inside of you. The pressure inside of you kept building, the water streaming across your skin growing hotter. Your blood was boiling, you weren’t sure where you stopped and Eris began. His thrusts became harder and more erratic, his fingers gripping so tightly you were sure they’d bruise. 

Eirs held you in an iron grip as he came inside of you, his release causing you to finish again. Arms braced against the wall as you panted heavily, Eris softly pulled himself out of you. His hands rubbed down your arms, and you stood up straighter, albeit on shaky legs. His eyes were roaming your body, looking over all the marks leftover from your tryst. The two of you were no strangers to rougher sex - most of the time you two were only able to satiate each other against a tree for mother’s sake. The tiles were no concern to you, but you knew Eris felt something deeper within him, guilt perhaps at how little control he had and the marks a reminder of that. Having a bond was new, but accepting the bond was utter chaos. A thousand emotions rattled through you, unsure of who they truly belonged to the most dominant ones were to protect and to fuck.

Eris slipped his arm out of the shower, his head going with it. You took the moment to gaze down at his ass, the little freckles scattered across it gave you the urge to bite the plump flesh. He came back in fully with a washcloth, and your gaze softened. You reach out, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

“Er, I don’t care, we’ll probably be going at it again in twenty minutes.”

Despite your protests, he broke free of the loose grip you had on him. He brought the cloth up under the water, letting it get properly drenched. 

“I know.” 

He moved the washcloth down between your legs, his touch impossibly gentle compared with the male who was gripping your hips hard enough to bruise moments ago.

“We’ve just never gotten to have this part before.”

You think back to all the times you two have met - in the woods, in secure cabins, in closets to find that he was right. Every moment alone the two of you had counted, and neither of you were ever able to linger for long after sex. 

Another thing the secrecy cost the both of you.

He looked to you, asking silent permission, and you nod. He moved the washcloth, cleaning the remnants of himself off of you. He rinsed the washcloth again before moving it across your skin - your stomach, your shoulders, your arms. He lingered, taking the time to clean every inch of you. He laughed, pointing out you still had some chocolate behind your ear. Once he finished, he reached to turn off the shower, but your hand stopped his. 

His eyes are assessing as you slowly grab the washcloth from him, your own eyes reflecting his previous question. He nods, and you start your own work of cleaning him. Your eyes trail his body, taking in how vulnerable he is in this moment. You hummed softly, the tune of some song you can’t recall the name of. The sound makes some of the emotions inside of you die down a bit, replaced by a calmer feeling. Eris tips his head down as you wipe at his back, the scars there almost mirrors of your own.

The cloth moves down him, but you stop to kiss a few of the scars on his upper back. Once you’re done, you drop the washcloth on the floor, wrapping your arms around his torso. Eris’s hand reaches out, shutting off the shower, but not making any indication he wants to move. 

Eris’s love sitting inside of you felt different to the love you felt for him - synonyms, perhaps. But not quite the same.

After several minutes, you grabbed some towels from the cabinets, offering one to Eris. He slings it around his hips lazily, lifting you into his arms. You had barely wrapped yourself in the towel before he scooped you up.

The two of you land on the bed, decadent in shades of blue across the massive sea of blankets and pillows. The only reminder that neither of you were in your home courts. Eris taps your chest, the reminder you felt about having to leave him leaking over to his side of the bond.

You two settle on the pillows, discarding your towels to lay beneath the large duvet. You climbed on top of him, settling on his chest. His cock grew hard again, and you moved so you could settle with him inside of you. 

You traced your fingers over his freckles, connecting them with your finger. “I can make constellations out of them,” you tell him. 

The roar has subsided enough for you to feel like a person again rather than a beast. You know it’ll come back, in minutes or seconds you weren’t sure, but you wanted to spend whatever time with him like this that you could.

Eris thrusts softly inside of you, watching your eyes look for patterns in the freckles across his cheeks.

“Perhaps you can make me a constellation that will always lead me to you.”

You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss him softly. Your mate. You feel the pit inside of you start to roar, but you swallow it down, opting instead to search inside of yourself, finding that golden thread tethering you to him, and pulling.

“It appears I already have.”

He flips the two of you, laying you on your back as he slowly puts himself inside of you again. He fills you up completely, reaching the base of his cock before stopping and just staying there. 

“Mm, Eris.”

He smiles, his arms landing on each side of your face, caging you in. He moves a few strands of hair out of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.

He smiles down at you, his freckles dancing across his face, the sunlight illuminating his hair to look as if it were made of flame.

His fingers tangle in your hair, lightly holding on. 

“You are everything to me.” 

His voice comes out soft and slightly shaky, as if the admission were almost painful. He began thrusting slowly, but this felt different. Anyone who had ever thought Eris Vanserra incapable of being soft should see him now.

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

His thrusts became faster with each word, but not harsher. 

“I will always take care of you.”

Your fingers grip his shoulders, your thumb softly rubbing the skin.

“And I you.”

You were reaching that peak again, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t feral, the need to satiate the physicality of the bond, but rather to remind yourself that you two were bound together, forever.

“I love you, mate.”

His words have you seeing stars, and you practically feel yourself leave your body, but you hear yourself say, “and I love you,” as Eris finishes inside of you.

He collapses on you, his cock still inside of you. You both are breathing heavily, unable to get enough air into your lungs. He collapses on top of you, his arms digging beneath you to wrap you in an embrace. 

No touch was enough, even as you wrapped your own arms around him, peppering kisses into the side of his head. The two of you lay there, eventually Eris peaks his head out from your neck to watch the snow fall outside the window. You think about the many lives you could lead with Eris Vanserra - how much simpler your lives could be if you were born of different circumstances. 

But those Erises wouldn’t be the one laying on top of you now. They wouldn’t have as sharp of a tongue as he does, or perhaps their noses wouldn’t slant the same way his does. You could lead a thousand lifetimes with a thousand Erises, each one different from the next. Your thumb grazes his cheek, deciding that easy was never meant for you. It was never meant for Eris, either.

In those thousand lifetimes, the only edge they have on this one is the ability for you two to be more free about your love. 

You wouldn’t have to return to your respective homes, glamouring the scent of your mating bond from those around you in a bid to mitigate the unwanted comments from those around either of you. Beron would be excited, an intercourt mating would come with tremendous benefits for him. Rhysand would be pissed, your entire family shocked at the secret, unable to bite their tongues from disrespecting your mate with the twisted truths.

Secrets can only last for so long. They all get spoken at some point, and one day everyone will know how you have been carrying Eris’s love for years, how it has carried you for much longer than you thought, and how it will still carry you wherever you need to go.

Even when it’s in the opposite direction of him.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Eris taglist: @secret-third-thing

Thanks for reading 💕

#gingerfucker #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x you

[sku-nk]

Heyyyyy!! I have a Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader request!

Chad and Mindy drawing on Reader and Tara's faces when they sleep. They wake up to see each other faces covered in silly doodles.🙈

Chad Rulez (Mindy, Too)

dont ask about the title. also i wasnt ignoring you 😰 ive been doing a lot (especially with that long ass thing im writing haha)

Synopsis: Tara's got a little something on her face... Hey, so do you!

Warnings: None.

By no means are you an artist. You've never willingly set foot inside an art gallery. Those blobs of color on top of other blobs of color don't represent much to you besides boogers. Art doesn't speak to you the way it seems to speak to others.

Usually.

But right now? As you're laying there in bed, all sleepy-eyed and groggy, having just woken up to the sound of snickering, that marker mustache on Tara's upper lip is really saying something. Her whole face is speaking to you, actually, especially the sloppy CHAD RULEZ scrawled on her exposed forehead.

It makes you giggle despite the situation, already knowing what Chad (and if you knew anything about the twins, Mindy, too) had gotten up to. It's a quiet sound, muffled by your hand as you try not to wake your girlfriend, already planning to take a picture or ten before you do wake her.

Though your giggle is quiet, it makes the brunette stir, and you internally wonder how the hell she slept through being drawn on by those two babies.

That's right, those babies.

Those babies that are currently hunched over the two of you, doing their absolute best to keep their composure as they watch you. It's funny, you think. Almost enough to make you laugh, the nearly dead silence, the thick atmosphere as the the three of you just keep glancing between each other and Tara. The twins definitely seem to be enjoying this more than you, Chad in particular looking like he's about to explode. He's got his hand covering his mouth as he makes funny little noises behind it.

A particularly loud snort pushes you over the edge and you burst into laughter, your laughs causing both the twins to break. The three of you can't control yourselves at this point, and it makes Tara's face twitch into an expression of confusion, eyes still closed as she lets out a sleepy groan.

"Guys, can I fucking-? Is it-"

She can't even formulate a proper sentence with all this noise and her grogginess, so she opens her eyes to at least give the three of you a glare.

But it's not a glare that takes over her face, it's a look of shock and then a wide smile as her laughter joins your own. You're confused, but not too confused to calm down, the homemade tattoos on Tara's face (and maybe your lack of sense in such early hours) making your ribs hurt as you laugh.

"Holy.." Tara struggles out as she grips your nightshirt, trying and failing fo fight back giggles. "What the fuck?"

You shake your head. "I don't— Oh my God!— I don't know, you just look-"

"I look? You look-"

And then it dawns on the two of you. You can't stop laughing, but you hastily fumble around for your phone on the nightstand as Mindy smacks your leg, cackling.

"Fina-fucking-lly!" she exclaims as she and Chad nearly fall to the floor laughing. Chad is quite literally choking. You open your camera and your eyes almost pop put of your head when you see yourself. You've got 'tattoos' similar to Tara's, a goatee to match her mustache and a much neater MINDY TOO on your forehead to match Chad's signature on Tara's. You look like a Halloween costume version of a criminal.

Tara all but snatches your phone, her expression mirroring yours as she sees her own face. She looks back up at the twins.

Then at you.

Then at Chad.

"Is that a sharpie?!" she exclaims, throwing the blankets off of her in a sudden burst of energy. Chad's laughter subsides and he glances down at his hand that is holding a sharpie. He drops the sharpie and grips Mindy's shirt from behind, pushing her in front of him as Tara steps up close.

You scramble up as well, knowing from experience that Tara's awfully scary when she's angry, even if she is only the size of half a Chad. Chad knows this, too.

"Wait, it wasn't even my idea, I don't even, I- I don't — Tara!"

But Tara's not listening. She's picked up the sharpie and is holding it like a knife. Mindy shakes Chad off of her, rushing out of the way in favor of not being caught in the crossfire. You wrap your arms around your girlfriend from behind, holding her back.

"No, it's funny, this is fun, come here!" she says to Chad, her tone saying the exact opposite her words are. "It's your turn."

It was, in fact, Chad's turn.

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #fem!reader #female reader #chad meeks martin #mindy meeks martin #scream #scream 6 #scream 5

[carmensbloggg]

976-EVIL

ᯓ★ j. maybank x female (kook) reader

synopsis : jj has been obsessed with reader since the moment he first saw her. one day he plucks up the courage to talk to her, to his surprise, all goes well

warnings : use of y/n, language, all in 2nd person, not proofread

a/n : i love jj x kook reader so much they have my whole heart

Crack a smile and wave

It doesn't scare me away

Hit the brakes

I feel like cruising with you too

“Look, it’s your girl,” Kie half jokes as she points towards you walking into The Wreck. JJ’s head immediately snaps up to look at the pretty girl that had just walked in.

The first time he ever saw you was on your way back home from school. He could tell because you were still dressed in your uniform; skirt rolled short, socks pulled up to your knees, tie wrapped perfectly. Everything about you looked so flawless. There was one thing though, your mascara had run down your cheeks, your eyes were glossy and your nose was red. You had bumped into him and were quick to apologise as he helped stabilise you. You were gone as quick as you came and he thought he would never see you again.

Boy was he wrong.

The second time he saw you was at a kegger on the boneyard. You were with your friends at the shore, anyone looking at you would see you all were clearly intoxicated. JJ wasn’t looking at your friends though, he was only focused on the light pink dress that adorned your curves. Your plush thighs that were on display, your tits that almost spilled out the top of your dress. Your platform flip flops that made you appear taller, only by a few inches. Your lip gloss that reflected in the moonlight as you laughed with the girls around you. You shook some hair away from your face, allowing it to flow freely in the wind. He thought you were the most pretty girl he had ever seen as he kept a close eye on you. He had no intention whatsoever of going over to you and introducing himself, you were drunk and probably wouldn’t even remember him. His eyes remained on you the whole night, making sure no one approached you and that you were safe.

The third time he saw you was at Midsummers. John B had told him to give a note to Sarah Cameron, and you being a kook was there too. You were crying, once again, and running away from Ben Madden. JJ watched as Ben tried consoling you and failed as you slapped him and ran out the doors into the house, assumingly going home. He wanted to help you, he really did, but he knew you wouldn’t want a pogue like himself to calm you down.

And that brings us to the fourth time, right now at The Wreck. He should’ve expected it honestly, where else would a kook girl go on a Saturday? Nevertheless, he enjoyed your presence and the ability to watch you. His friends however, do not enjoy when JJ watches you. Pope has told him countless times that his ‘need to protect you’ is not healthy and Kie just hates that you distract him so much from their plans without even knowing. John B doesn’t seem to care, but he does get annoyed from time to time when JJ ignores him. Obviously the boy doesn’t mean to do it on purpose, you’re just so captivating.

“JJ,” Kie sighs before Pope chimes in. “Are you ever going to actually talk to her? Or just stare at her whenever she’s around,” Pope asks rhetorically, every one of course knowing the answer. “I can’t talk to her, she’d probably get scared and walk away, and then everyone would know JJ Maybank has no game,” his head rests in his hands as sadness makes itself clear on his face. “This is depressing,” Pope deadpans and JJ lays his head on the table.

Just as silence falls over the table, John B catches you looking towards JJ. “JJ, dude, look up,” he shakes his friend, making sure you’re still looking. Confusion washes over your features as John B tries so desperately to get JJ to lift his head up. JJ reluctantly raises his head and groans a “what,” to John B, who simply nods in your direction. Thankfully you’re still looking at JJ and the confusion washes away when he smiles and waves at you. You softly smile back and wave to him before returning to your own conversation, occasionally sharing more glances with the blonde a few tables over from you.

“JJ Maybank has game after all,” JJ smiles to himself. “You should talk to her,” Kie pushes him, only to be turned down. “I can’t, she’s with her friends,” he makes up an excuse. “Who cares? Go on, go,” John B pushes further, until he eventually gives in and walks over to your table.

He stands there awkwardly for a few seconds before clearing his throat. Your conversation comes to a halt at the suddenness of his presence. “Hi,” you smile softly up at him. “Hi,” he chokes out. No one says anything and you’re left making eye contact for a few seconds before you decide to speak up. “Is everything okay?” you nervously laugh a little at his shyness. “Oh, shit- sorry yeah, um a few minutes ago I smiled and waved at you and you smiled and waved back,” he begins to explain. “Yeah,” you smile and nod, recalling the moment shared. “And uh, now you’re talking to me so I was just wonderin’ if I scared you, but I’m guessing I didn’t because you’re still here,” his nervousness radiates through his tone. “You’re asking if you’re scary?” you almost laugh at the poor boy. He hesitantly nods, only now realising he had no plan whatsoever with this. “Scary? You? Not a chance pretty boy,” you giggle, surprised a little at your sudden boldness. A light red hue takes over his face as he slowly nods. “Can I get your number?” he manages to get out, he’s not really sure how though, the only thing in his mind is your words. “Mhm, of course,” you smile as you write your number on a napkin and hand it to him. “Thank you,” he says as he makes his way back over to his fiends.

“JJ Maybank has game after all,” he repeats as he waves the napkin in the pogue’s faces.

After about 15 minutes, your friends decide to leave, but not you. Confidence surges through you as you make your way over to the blonde pogues table, already planning the words in your head.

“Um, hi,” you nervously state to him and his friends. They all greet you, JJ being the last to do so. You recognised Kiara, you were friends with her during her kook year. “I was wondering if maybe I could go home with you tonight? If that’s okay with you of course,” you ask JJ, expecting a no in return. “Uh, sure, yeah, that’s fine, the house might be a little messy though,” he warns you. “That’s okay, messy is good,” you nod, being reminded of your own house which always looks like it was bought yesterday.

Obviously JJ isn’t going to take you back to his own house, god knows what his dad would do or say. The Chateau is really his only option here. “Yeah, of course, come on, we’re going now anyway,” he smiles, getting up from his seat and taking you out into the Twinkie.

“JB you okay to drive?” JJ questions as he throws John B the keys. The boy just nods and you and JJ get in the back. He slings an arm around your shoulder before introducing you to his friends. “So, that’s John B, that’s Pope and you already know Kie,” he points them all out and you nod along, saying hi to each one.

Eventually you make it to ‘JJ’s house’ and you’re shown to the guest bedroom JJ’s room, where both you and JJ sit on the bed. “Pretty nice house,” you comment, looking around. “It’s actually not mine, it’s John B’s, he just lets me crash here,” JJ admits to you. “Oh, do you think he would mind if I stay the night?” you ask, not really wanting to go home. “Probably not, he doesn’t really care,” the boy nods as you both slip into mindless conversation about anything and everything to do with your lives. It’s somehow so easy to talk to someone with such different life experiences than your own. JJ tells you all about his dad and how he and John B became friends and you talk about how your mother is so controlling and your parents fell out of love way before they even had you. JJ sympathises with you about every sad experience you’ve had, and you do the same for him.

After some time you both decide it’s probably best to go to sleep and find comfort in each other’s arms. It’s pretty safe to say the two of you fell in love a little more beyond physical attraction.

a/n pt2 : i don’t really get down with the ending but it’s gonna have to do 😭

#jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank #jj outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank one shot

[foreverbase1]

One-Way Mirror ❣ Park Gunwook

❥𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Park Gunwook x fem!reader

❥𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k

❥𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Angst

❥𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Lots and lots of angst, this could come off as toxic to some people

❥𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: One-Way Mirror by Haley Joelle

❥𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: N/A

❥𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Reader still hasn't moved on from their break up with Gunwook, a month later, they start seeing Gunwook's social media updates seeing him with someone new

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬! <𝟑 𝐓𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨 <𝟑

You swore to your friends that you were fine, but that was all one big lie. A lie you wished so badly to be true, cause in fact, you weren't fine. While you and Gunwook didn't block each other on your respective socials following your break up a month prior, you could still see each other's posts pop up from time to time simply due to being having mutual friends.

Every time a new post from him appeared, you couldn't help but linger on it for minutes, feeling the pain in your heart start to get stronger, remembering all the good memories with him and how quickly your relationship fell apart simply due to it not working like it was when you first started dating.

But no matter how much you lied to your friends about "being okay" and how much you failed to gaslight yourself into believing you were okay, you knew that you were still in love with Park Gunwook. And sometimes, you would catch yourself clicking on his profile and scrolling through his posts, just lying to yourself that you wanted to see how he was doing.

But of course, this was another lie. You just wanted to see his face, you missed his touch, the scent of his cologne and how his arms felt around you and the way his lips would fit perfectly with yours. It was like watching his life through a one-way mirror, you could see everything he was doing, how happy he was and how he was living his life.

You loved that for him, but you also couldn't help but feel a little bit jealous and envious of how he was able to move on so fast. Like you were just a second thought, a simple page in a book that he ripped out and tossed aside. Despite this, you missed everything about him, you missed 𝘩𝘪𝘮. And with every day that passed by, you knew it was only getting worse.

"Y/N, wanna come out with us?" Your friend asked through the phone, you were currently in a group call with your friends and they had made plans to go out on a late night walk, while they gossiped and joked about, you remained muted on the call. Only unmuting to reply when they directly asked you something, mainly cause you were scrolling through Gunwook's social media again.

Hearing your friend speak your name, you unmuted yourself. "No thanks, i'm feeling a bit tired, sorry" You apologized, the girl on the other end clicking her tongue, but thankfully she understood and you all said your goodbyes, the call ending shortly after.

Now you were alone again, in the darkness of your room, laying against the covers of your bed, scrolling through Gunwook's social media posts. This would become a routine and you knew it was unhealthy, but you couldn't stop yourself from missing him. When you broke up, it was like he took a giant chunk of your heart with him, leaving you with only tiny fragments left to form what you couldn't even call a heart.

"You're so stupid Y/N" You scolded yourself, refreshing his page, and that was when it caught your eye. A new post from Gunwook, posted just now. Your eyes scanned the photo, you could recognize his hand easily, but the other hand was a foreign female hand, a complete stranger who you couldn't recognize. It was someone new.

The picture was simple, it was just Gunwook's hand enclosed around someone else's with the caption under the picture simply just being hearts. You knew this would happen eventually, Gunwook had moved on long ago, but you were lagging behind, struggling to move on from a boy who you knew would forever hold your heart in a way no other man ever could.

You turned your phone off, the screen going dark as you tossed it to the side, hearing it slide off the bed and hit the floor. But you were too caught up in your thoughts to even care if you had just cracked the screen or not.

Getting up, your arms encircling your form immediately to provide some type of comfort. Your friends had no clue of your unhealthy routine with constantly checking Gunwook's page, and if they did find out, you know they'd scold you and tell you to get over him, that you deserved someone better and that it was his loss.

But you could never believe that, they told you those same words when you told them you and Gunwook had broken up, but the words fell on deaf ears. It was 𝘩𝘪𝘴 loss? No, that was funny, it was 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘴. At least, that's how you felt anyway.

You slumped to the floor, feeling tears fill your eyes as you felt your heart begin to squeeze in agony. Why were you even shocked and hurt to begin with? You and Gunwook broke up a month ago, he had moved on and found someone new, so why were you finding it so hard to move on? To find someone new just like he did?

The thought crossed your mind plenty of times, but you could never give a concrete answer. Cause you didn't know the answer to that question, you didn't know what was even holding you back. Was it because that new girl he was with would get to feel his lips against hers? Feel his arms wrap around her and keep her safe, warm and in the comfort of what once felt like home to you?

Was it cause she would get the good morning and good night texts he used to send you? The "what did you wear today?" or the "what did you have for lunch?" texts from him? Even the "how was your night?" and "how'd your day go?" texts he used to send you when you couldn't see each other that day? You didn't know, it was all new, to others it was long in the past, but to you it all was changing too fast.

Feeling the tears run down your cheeks, you let out a sob and then a chuckle, shaking your head. Not even being able to believe that you were sitting on the floor of your bedroom, crying over a boy who you had ended things with a month ago. But at the same time, you did.

You knew that you were still that same girl who was stuck in the past, that horrible night stuck on repeat deep within your thoughts. Vividly seeing yourself standing under the streetlight just outside the convenience store that Gunwook had asked you to meet up with him at, where he told you that you needed to end things, before walking away back towards his home.

𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝! 𝐈'𝐦 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐭��𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 <𝟑

#zb1 imagines #zb1 scenarios #songfic #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #park gunwook x reader #gunwook x reader #zb1 gunwook x reader #zb1 park gunwook x reader #kpop angst #zb1 angst #Spotify

[breakandbuildfiction]

Rival Singers

Ember McLain and Verosika Mayday were singers in two different genres with different target audiences and overall styles. So it was very confusing to most people that the two beauties were so vocal in their hatred of each other.

#Danny Phantom #Hazbin Hotel #Helluva Boss #DP x HH #DPxHH #DPxHB #DP x HB #Both use mind control #That’s why they hate each other #They think the other is trying to steal their targets #They don’t understand that people can like more than one kind of music #Verosika also hates that Charlie Morningstar likes Ember’s music more than her’s #And Ember hates that her friend Kitty plays Verosika’s music on her dates with Johnny 13 #Ember nearly hunted Verosika down once #But Danny stopped her #Because he doesn’t know Verosika is a demon #Verosika planned on drugging Ember #To ruin one of her shows #But Blitzo heard about it #And decided to stop Verosika #Just to see her face when her plan failed #Because Blitzo is an asshole

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst with a happy ending #angst #grovel #jealousy

[providencehq]

Powehouse AU: aka Danny Fenton tries to be a normal college student in the midwest yet is forced to continue to be a hero in secret as ghosts won't leave him alone and soon, neither will the Justice League when he pops up as a new hero.

Additional info and art under readmore:

ANYWAYS, here is some powerhouse au information.

Danny as he grows up manages to keep the ghost situation under control to a point he isn't overly active as Phantom. He finishes highschool no problem and goes to uni over in Central City for Maths and Engineering (not an overtly big fan of the space motif and instead, I'm shoving my boy into something cooler: PLANES! He's studying specifically mechanical engineering and has plans to go to a trade school after his B.S. for A&P mechanics.)

Sam goes to Gotham State University for Ethnobotany and works in one of the unis library part time. Tucker is going to Star City College for Computer Science and a minor in archeology, he tutors part time.

Danny's main design is inspired by a combo of military and blue collar uniforms (you can also see exactly what I reference). I also couldn't decide a face mask so you get all three options.

So as Danny moves to Central City and attends uni, his rouges do sadly follow him and wreck havoc. Danny is stressed from school so he doesn't do quips as much, in fact, he's trying to get this under control as fast as possible so he can go back and study. Here's the thing, no one outside of Amityville has seen Phantom so all of the sudden what seems to be a meta? an alien? something not human? coming out and taking down rouges that, due to being ghosts, other heros struggle to contain and handle.

Speculation rises about Phantom and who he is. Danny is smart and thought this through, kinda. His costume is a modified look what he wore as a kid but he pulls in more military/uniform aspects to make it seem like he belongs to someone or some organization. That maybe somewhere in the US, an organization managed to make a hero of sorts that mimics Green Lanterns. It's just a big red herring, Danny wants them to look for someone older, probably more experienced, and a different background. Not some tired college student struggling with his studies.

Things do start to get dicey when heroes actively try to interact with him, mostly the Flash (because Central City), Superman, and the Green Lantern. Most interactions end up with Phantom not wanting to fight and fleeing or when cornered to fight, he's messy and inexperienced compared to the other heroes. He doesn't stay around and rarely even talks. It's concerning more so because the heroes aren't sure with who they're dealing with and after a few interactions, they aren't sure Phantom is on their side. Just too many questions around him.

This leads to heroes actively trying to capture and bring in Phantom. The more failed attempts that happen, the more flightly Phantom acts when they end up interrupting him capturing his rouges. They do eventually capture Phantom (thank you Superman) and that's kinda where I end on information on this AU. It's just me having fun with interactions and also designing costumes :)

ALSO DANNY IS ROMA/DIDICOY I NEED TO MENTION THAT!!! (Dick Grayson 🤝 Danny Fenton being didicoy)

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #powerhouse au #mine #my art

[thefallofruins]

── “Conception” [Ryomen Sukuna]

Requested by anon — Hey, love ur writing. All the smut you've written for the jjk men is soooo hot. Would u be interested in writing feral ritual sex & breeding kink w sukuna? Like he's obsessed w the thought of his precious little queen having his child, but since he's a curse he has to put in some extra effort to make sure it takes & doesn't harm her. I'm just obsessed w the thought of the bid bad king of curses being soft for his little baby (& ofc the babymaking process). Love u and wishing u a good day.

Warnings — breeding, inflation, lactation, dumbification, dacryphilia, pregnancy. MINORS DNI.

Sukuna was a greedy man. Sure, he had his lovely queen, the only one who had ever managed to tame him. He never desired any forms of human companionship till you came in his way with the pretty little face of yours and an ever charming wit.

But he hungered for more, recently.

Sukuna had never even thought of having a family. He held no desire to procreate, but over the time, staying with you, learning about your own desires of a family someday— it grew over him like a disease. To see you with his offspring, his heir. The need to get you pregnant, the desire so primal in him that all he could think of was that. He was utterly obsessed.

So, now that you are in the privacy of your room, who were you to deny the king of his wishes? Sukuna always gets what he wants. And you learnt so when you saw that look of hunger in his eyes. He was so certain he'd knock you up tonight. And you were too, considering his actions.

"Look at you..." he growls, taking the sight of you all in, eyes glassy and desperate, sweat glistening off your pale skin as he pounds into you without a drop of mercy. Your lips tremble as wanton moans of his name escape your throat. "Meant to be a mother..."

All that occupied his mind was to see your belly round with his brood, to see how you'd glow with his child in your womb, to see how much more prettier you would you get with your tits growing heavy, your kimono tightening around them as they fill up with milk. With that thought and the feeling of you tightening around his cock, he releases into your womb, cock nudging against your cervix as he fills you to the brim.

It wasn't enough, of course.

A helpless mewl escapes your lips when you feel him moving again. "S-Sukuna..." a whine escapes your lips. He tuts, a smirk forming on his face as he resumes thrusting into your oversensitive cunt. "Not so fast, my lovely Queen..." he says, a finger reaching to pinch and tug upon your hardened nipple. "Need to make sure I breed you well..." he says, his pace increasing as he speaks, "You'll be carrying our baby soon..."

"N-Ngh—! 'K-Kuna...'s too much!" you complain, your mind almost going blank when you feel him hit your cervix again. And again. And again. But he shows no sign of stopping. "You can take it, my queen....you must give me a child. An heir...." he softly brushes the hair out of your face as he pounds into you in a harsh manner till you feel a knot build in your stomach once again.

"S-Sukuna..Ahh...c-cumming...!" you moan as he increases his pace, making the knot of your stomach snap, squirting over his cock and making him chuckle darkly. "Mmm...pretty..." he says softly, not stopping his movements till he fills you up once again. His seed filling your womb for the second time for the day. You whine at the feeling, there was no way his plan to impregnate you was failing at this rate.

"Sukuna..." you mutter his name softly as he pulls out of you slowly, giving your forehead a soft kiss. Perhaps it was an apology on behalf of the long night he was planning ahead. Giving you a moment to prepare yourself, he watches his cum ooze past your pussy before he rams into your poor cunt again.

"S-Sukuna-ah! p-please...." you whimper, it was too much! but it was also only the beginning. He is a curse after all, he has to take extra efforts to make sure he impregnates you, no? "P-Please...too full!"

"Sssh...." he says, grunting as he feels the gummy walls of your cunt clamp over him. "You need to give me a child, my queen..." he says gruffly, wiping the tears that roll down your cheek. It's too much! "You're gonna make such a beautiful mother...belly round with my child. F-Fuck...gonna breed you so well tonight."

Another thick load, followed by another, soft praises escaping his lips, thumbs brushing your tears away. You were too full with his hot and sticky seed, too overstimulated, your brain mushed to the point you couldn't think about anything except being bred my him. About being pregnant with his heir. About fulfilling his desire. About making him a father.

Your belly appeared to bulge a bit from the amount of cum he's stuffed into you. Your womb overflowing with his seed. And yet— Sukuna wasn't satisfied. He kept going, and the last thing you felt was his cock still buried deep into your cunt, a heavy load released into yet again. He lies next to you, cock slipping out. His seed flowed out of you in large amounts as he brushes the strands of your hair from your face and softly kisses your forehead. "Rest, my Queen..."

Of course his efforts had paid out. And it was just what he imagined. You were glowing with his child in your belly, he simply loved to caress your round belly as he held you, praised you for carrying his heir —so incredibly proud of his queen and his little one that was growing in you.

He loved to see the tightness around your chest, the stains on your kimono as your breasts grew heavy. The blush on your cheeks when he told you he'd relieve you of the overflowing mess— slurping and drinking upon the sweet nectar greedily.

He absolutely fucking adored to see you crochet little clothes to welcome your little one, sitting on the bed with a round belly as you knit together a cute and tiny sweater for the to-be-coming-soon member with your eyebrows scrunched together as you poured your focus into it.

And when the little one was born? Sukuna never knew he could be so soft. He would spend his days with the little one cradled in his arms, his pride growing when he saw him perched upon your hip, walking around — just being the amazing mother he expected you to be. He would make sure no harm ever befell the two of you.

He now sits with the two of his only loved ones, with something on his mind again— maybe in the upcoming years, he could have more of this. A big family with his wonderful queen.

Sukuna was a very greedy man, after all.

taglist: @x-lunawrites-x

#jujutsu sukuna #jjk smut #ruins posts #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna fluff

[imyourbratzdoll]

hiii baby 🤍

weird request maybe…

But reader being tired of dating but really wanting a baby…like she just really doesn’t want to wait for the perfect man to settle down with, but she really really really wants a baby.

So she asks childhood!bestfriend!bucky or like childhood!bestfriend!CE!Character to impregnate her…

He (being secretly in love with her) agrees, so they make one 😩

hi honey! not weird at all! I loved this, I'm hoping I did it justice and that you love it!

summary - you've decided to stop going on dates when the last one fails and go to your best friend for the thing you desperately want.

warning - smut, breeding kink, unrequited love (or not), horrible dates, creampie, swearing, slight angst.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You sigh, having just come back from yet another failed date. No man seemed to live up to the expectation you were looking for. You sagged into the couch, kicking your shoes off and beginning to massage your temples. “Ugh, I’ll never find the perfect man to settle down with…” You look down at your stomach, and your mind fills with images of you being pregnant. Your eyes blink it away as you rub your belly. “I just want a baby… Is that so hard?” 

Your eyes widen when you realise you have the perfect plan. Bucky! He’s your best friend, an ideal option for a sperm donor. You quickly dig through your purse and pull out your phone, unlocking it and quickly sending him a message. 

‘Hey, are you able to come over? I have something important to ask you.’ You send the text, gnawing on your bottom lip as you wait for his response, watching the three little dots appear. 

‘Sure, I’ll be there in 10 minutes with your favourite snacks.’ 

You smile, quickly jumping up and running to your room. You strip from the clothes you sadly wasted on your date and changed into a red lingerie set that Bucky got you for your birthday. You smirked when you remembered how flushed Bucky looked as you opened the gift bag and promised to show him one day. You walk over to the mirror and fix your make-up, reapplying your red gloss. 

When you hear the door unlock, you quickly throw on your silk robe and head out of your room, ready to greet Bucky. He enters and smiles when he sees you waiting there for him. His heart practically pounds out of his chest as you smile back at him, walking over and wrapping your arms around his body. “Hey, I got us some Chinese.” He wraps one arm around you, tightly holding the bag of food with the other. 

“You came so fast!” Your cheeks heat up at the innuendo of your words. You don’t notice the pout on his lips as you pull away from him and begin to walk toward the lounge room. “C’mon, I’d feel better asking you the thing while sitting down… I don’t really know how you’ll feel about it.” Your chew on your bottom lip, your nerves getting to you as you realise if he says no, you’ll possibly be ruining a good friendship.

Bucky follows you like a lost puppy, practically feeling your nerves radiating off of you. His eyes shamefully land on your arse, watching your hips sway as you walk before him. “So, uh… How did your date go?” This would be the tenth date this week that you’ve been on, and as your best friend, Bucky knows all about them and how lately they haven’t been going well. Except for his heart that constantly broke every time you told him you had a date with everyone but him. Bucky sits beside you, pulling out the hot food and handing you your usual. 

“Shit like the others.” You immediately begin to stuff your face with food, starving from storming off during the date. “From the moment we met, all he spoke about was himself and the women he’s been with. Then when we sat down to eat, he ordered for me, but when I stood up for myself and ordered what I wanted. He decided to call me a cow and fat and that no man would ever love me if I didn’t let them take control of my life.” You growl, shovelling more food in your mouth. You swallow and look at Bucky, noticing the angry look behind his eyes but deciding to ignore that. “But, I came to a conclusion. You know how much I’ve been wanting a baby and have been trying to find the perfect man to settle down with.”

Bucky nods before frowning. “Please don’t tell me you're going to just sleep with one of these guys to get one.” His brows furrow. “You deserve more than that. You deserve someone that will be there for you and the baby.”

You wave him off, sucking some juice off your thumb. “Of course not. I had someone better in mind.” Your eyes connect with him, and Bucky’s brows raise when he puts the pieces together. “I want you to impregnate me, Bucky.”

“Y–you–” He swallows, blinking rapidly, wondering if he heard you right.

“I want you, Bucky. Just imagine how cute our baby would be, but I understand if you say no and no longer want to be–”

“Yes.”

“B–”

“Yes.” Bucky immediately scoots closer and cups your cheeks. “I’ll pump you full until you are carrying my child.” You feel slick gather between your thighs, turned on by his words. Bucky’s hands move down and undo your robe, choking on his saliva when his eyes land on the red lingerie set he had bought you. “You’re so beautiful…” He whispers, staring for a while before looking into your eyes. “D–do you want to go slow or…” Bucky swallows, knowing that you weren’t doing this because you felt anything for him. You were doing this to get a baby.

“Fast, for now, I just need you.” You whimper. You grasp the back of Bucky’s head and pull him toward you, devouring his lips with yours. “Please, fuck a baby into me.”

Bucky catches the for-now part, causing his heart to jump, knowing there might be another time. His breath catches as your lips connect, swearing that fireworks went off. His hand lands between your legs and begins to rub you through your knickers, letting out a moan as he feels how wet you are. “D–did you touch yourself before I got here?” 

You shake your head, “No, no….” You whine, back arching and legs spreading more as he touches you. Bucky feels his cock harden more when he realises he made you wet. “Bucky, please.” You blink the tears away, so overwhelmed with your feelings for your best friend and your horniness. You hadn’t been touched in so long, and to have Bucky finally touch you with the promise of putting a baby in you intensifies it.

Bucky leans back, giving you a look. “Are you sure about this? Because once I start, I really don’t think I’ll be able to stop.” You nod rapidly, gripping any part of him that you can. He places a hand under your chin. “I need words, Y/n.” 

“Yes, Bucky. I’m sure I want this.” You watch him remove your clothes, followed by his, and you gasp as your eyes land on his member. “You’re so big…” Bucky strokes his cock, lining it with your sopping cunt. As he pushes in, Bucky leans forward and connects his lips with yours, swallowing your moans. “O–oh…” 

His hands move down and grip your hips, thrusting deep, fast and hard into your tight walls. “Fuck, you feel so good, doll.” Your legs wrap around him, pulling him closer to you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he hits deep inside you, hitting places you’ve never reached before. “I can’t wait to pump you full of my cum, doll. Breed you.” He growls, getting lost in the feel of you. 

You moan, gripping onto your best friend, feeling him split you open, bringing you pleasure you’ve never felt before. You can’t wait until he fills you with his cum, giving you what you’ve always wanted. “Faster, Bucky, please.” You don’t know how he’s done it, but you're so close you can feel your orgasm just around the corner. 

Bucky’s hips begin to snap, slamming into you hard and fast. “Shit, doll. I’m so close.” His hand slides between your bodies, locating your clit and rubbing it. Your back arches, legs squeezing tighter around him as your juices squirt out of you, your walls pulsating around his thick cock. Bucky groans, burying his face into your neck, pounding into you before burying himself deep inside you. Thick spurts of cum shoot out of his mushroom tip as he pumps you full of his cream. “Fuck, fuck! There’s so much. It feels too good, doll!”

You sag into the couch, pulling Bucky along with you, enjoying the feeling of his softening cock inside of you. He stares at you, stroking your cheek, and you smile tiredly up at him. “Thank you, Bucky. I hope this takes, if not. We will have just to keep trying.”

Bucky smiles, “I’d be happy with that.” He leans forward and presses a soft kiss on your forehead.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #anon reply #imyourbratzdollwork #bucky barnes au #bucky angst #bucky barnes #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fandom #sebastian stan fan fiction #sebastian stan #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (part two)

This is part two! Here is part one. I lied, there is a bit of smut! Oopsie daisy. Inspired by @moonmark98 ‘s story idea of reader trying to forget Alastor and failing. I hadn’t planned a second part initially so I hope you like it 🥺

⟢ part1♡̶sidestory♡̶part2♡̶part3♡̶part4 ⟣

You return to earth and spend a year trying to crawl out from under the memory of Alastor. When an employee tells you a terrible past trauma, you end up right back where you started.

<Tags/Warnings/Promises: Alastor x reader, light smut, not as explicit as part one, masturbation, implied childhood trauma, justified homicide regarding said implication, stabbing, death, a realistic description of my former job, gerbil slander, your bitch aunt Sara, hiking as a hobby, guns, shooting, choking, florida weather, mentions of the 2021 Loo Loo Land fire>

minors DNI

“Ooh my, this is highly unusual. Charlie is right, you really shouldn’t be here.” Stolas fretted over you. “Uuunfortunately I don’t have my book at this particular moment however I can just snag it from Blitzy and be back soon.”

“What’s a blitzy?” Angel looked around the room to no one in particular.

“What isn’t he?” Stolas cooed. 

“Wait a minute!” Husk snapped his fingers, “Is that the imp who burned down loo loo land?”

“The very one!”

“He also takes hits out on people on earth, doesn’t he?” Husk gave Stolas a sideways look. Alastor hummed in acknowledgment.

“Ah haha yes” Nervously chuckling, Stolas scratched at the feathers behind his neck, “Anywho! I’ll return shortly and get you back where you belong, little one.” He flashed his kind smile to you before bowing to Charlie and portaling out of the room. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Charlie sat beside you on the edge of the bed. You’d been escorted immediately to an empty room upon arrival, sat down while the core staff of the hotel flitted about wildly upon hearing Angel’s recounting of events.

“You smell dirty”, the tiny maid cackled and ran to you before being lifted by her apron by Husk. 

“That is a”, you rubbed your wrists nervously, “complicated question…”

“There’s nowhere safer in all of hell than this room. With Vaggie and me and Alastor”, Charlie brought her hands to her mouth, “or— not Alas- I mean” She looked at Vaggie, “What do I mean??”

“Nothing and no one will lay a finger on you here.” Vaggie was staring at Alastor when she said it.

“I don’t think its fingers anyone’s worried about”, Angel shifted his gaze from Alastor to you and back.  

Alastor turned his head  slowly to meet Angel’s eyes, “Did you say something, Angel Dust?”

He shook his head and quickly left, Niffty and Husk in tow.

“I think you should leave, too.” Vaggie crossed her arms.

Alastor replied by taking a step closer to you, gesturing with his microphone, “I don’t see what all the fuss is about. She is safe and sound, barely a bruise on her.” He looked over you, the side of your face still slightly pink from the way you hit the ground hardly an hour ago. He could hear your body sliding across the wooden cabin floor still, what a strangely exciting noise. What else could he drag you across? What surfaces could he slide your over? What noises would they make? What noises would you make?

“You took her fucking soul, Alastor. In a coerced deal!”

“If I remember correctly, that is exactly what I had been asked to do.” He grinned, taking his monocle off and cleaning it on his sleeve. Vaggie looked to Charlie, who shrunk from her horrified face. “Plus, she’s still alive. Who knows if the deal even counts. I’ve never made one with a living person.” With an exaggerated shrug, Alastor took a seat on the sofa opposite the bed, legs crossed. “Either way, she isn’t anywhere near Val anymore.” His eyes met yours, for the first time since… 

You looked away. He wanted to grab your chin and force you to see him. He wanted to read what was written on your face. Shame? No…yes, but something more. Embarrassment. Confusion. Ah— You clenched your jaw, finally returning his stare. Anger. “Did I not do exactly what I had promised I would? What I had warned you I would?” Your lips curled over your teeth. “While yes, I hadn’t explicitly stated the number of times-“

“Stop talking! No, no. Enough of that.” Charlie waved her arms as if she could dissipate the very topic away, “Alastor could you please give me a moment alone with her?” She looked at him with big, worried eyes, “Please?”

Through gritted teeth Alastor acquiesced, “It is your hotel, Princess. I’ll be just outside the door.” The last sentence was for you, you could feel it like you could feel his shadow still ghosting over your legs.

As soon as the door shut, she closed the distance between you, looking to Vaggie who offered her a supportive nod.

“Seriously, are you hurt? Did he— Did he hurt  you?”

Oh, you wish he had. That’d be easier to say. Easier to process. You wish he’d knocked you around like Val had done earlier. That left you indignant, enraged. But this — whatever this was — you couldn’t find purchase on a reaction. You didn’t even want to think the things bubbling under your consciousness. 

“Just my pride. Uhh,” you shifted, your thighs and cunt sore to the touch, “He really did warn me. Got my okay, kind of. And he didn’t hurt me, except dragging me around and flipping me but-”, You noticed Charlie’s alarmed expression, “I’m physically fine.”

She nodded, her expression still oozing concern, “Well that’s good, then.”

“What… You both seem humanish, but what exactly are-“ You tipped your head in the direction of the door. 

“Well I think Angel is some kind of spider…Husk, not entirely sure honestly”, Charlie looked up as if searching for a memory, “Alastor is a deer. It’s all tied to how people lived and died, I think.”

A deer? You shook your head, “Nothing about that man resembles a prey animal.”

“His death sure did.” Vaggie commented.

“So if I have some weird death I’ll end up here? If I drown… I’ll come back as a fish?” You were mostly thinking out loud, and hadn’t expected Charlie to nod in agreement.

“But don’t think about that! You might still go to heaven. Like Al said, he isn’t even sure the deal is binding.” She beamed and clapped her hands together.

It felt binding. 

When that green light had erupted from beneath you, you thought you could feel him. Not the tentacles, or the memory of his hand. It felt like he was in the light itself, casting shadows on the ceiling in the shape of you. It felt alive, every ray of light a breathe washing over you. 

You looked down at the robe, white and silky. Where were your clothes? Where was your fucking aunt? What about your phone? You had a car, too. Wait, no… did you drive to her house? Or did she…You hadn’t slept since being dragged to hell. Staring at the hem of the sleeve, you tried to focus your mind but suddenly you were wading in cognitive mud.

Shadows gathered near the foot of the bed before you saw Alastor rise out of the cluster. Charlie said something, Vaggie said something but sharper. It sounded far away already. Your body was beginning to feel heavy, an ache settling across your back and thighs.

“Perhaps you should lie down, my dear.” His voice cut through the murky waters of your thoughts. The bed sunk beside you as he pressed a hand down, the other lifting your chin to force eye contact. Vaggie made a loud noise, Charlie a smaller one, a longer one. Was it words? Were they speaking? Your lids were heavy over your eyes, Alastor’s face beginning to blur. His smile looked strained, eyebrows knitted together in an emotion almost recognized. Concern? His grin threw it off. You raised your eyebrows to try and open your eyes wider but the effect was minimal.

You heard yourself groan as an arm hooked under your knees, another catching your shoulders as you fell to the side. It felt like you were floating. Your legs came down slowly, you could feel the robe adjusting around your waist. Your head went back before comfortably straightening. A warmth spread down your neck, leaving goosebumps to runaway down your shoulder. It was dark now, and in the haze you heard from somewhere so close it felt like maybe you had thought it yourself,  “In perpetuity, mon cher.” 

You didn’t recognize the room at first, but when you finally managed to lift yourself out of bed you sighed. Home. You only knew it had been real because of the robe and busted lip. Well, mostly sure. 

 No one noticed you were gone, which wasn’t shocking. Working backwards, you could piece together you had gone to visit your aunt on Saturday morning. You awoke early Monday in your own bed some 60 miles from your aunt's home. Your car had been found abandoned off an old dirt road way outside of town. 

You tried to get back to life, get to work. But you were clearly only half there.

Your aunt was found dead the following weekend, half submerged in a swamp just outside of Tampa. Her funeral was funny. Not “haha” funny, “Say hi to Val for me” kinda funny. When they lowered her into the ground you wondered what she looked like. What's the animal manifestation of a selfish, raging bitch? What’s the most untrustworthy home appliance? 

Probably a gerbil, or a toaster. 

You found yourself doing that a lot, What will they look like in the afterlife?

It took a good six months for you to stop sleeping in the robe. You couldn’t trash it, it was evidence you had been spirited away. It smelled like smoke and baby oil. Like Angel. It was soft on your skin, like—

Oh. It took less time for the dreams to calm down. Maybe a month of waking up in a cold sweat.  

At first they were stressful. Val backhanding you. The feeling of leather chafing against your wrists. The cabin. The real one, not the set.

But then one night they weren’t stressful. You could remember the dream like it had really happened. A large hand cupping your cheek, another roaming past your hips before hooking under your knee. The warmth of a breath on your neck, on your navel. More hands. Everywhere. Your back, your ankle, your neck. 

You woke up and the first feeling you felt was disappointment. It hit you like a truck. 

The dreams slowly ramped up until some nights you awoke mid-orgasm. Never in your life had you experienced wet dreams; you didn’t even know women got them.

And it wasn’t always him—- well, not at first. You’d be kissing someone, a stranger or your ex or whoever. You’d have your hands in their hair, enjoying the feeling of their tongue sliding over yours. You’d be positively humming into their mouth. They’d pull you forward, lie you down, tugging your pants down your legs.

When they’d kiss up your arm and nestle into your neck they’d whisper hottily into your ear, “My doe.”

Sometimes you woke up, but many times you didn’t. Many times you grabbed his face and kissed him, letting him take control and direct you. You’d shrink beneath him, allowing him to use your body as he pleased. You’d surrender, you’d melt. He’d fuck you into the ground of god-knows-where, nails cutting into the flesh of your ass as he pulled you up to meet each punishing thrust. There were trees and starlight and you felt the humidity on your skin. 

You’d always squirm away, try to escape the pleasure and he would find joy in pulling you back onto his cock. It felt like a game where you both already knew the outcome. “Going to cum, sweetheart?”, would be the last thing you heard before the real life spasms of your release stirred you awake. 

The first man you took home after returning to earth was sweet. Gentle. Too gentle. You’d try to direct him, to let him know you wouldn’t break but he’d shy away from asserting dominance.

Other partners were more in charge, but it didn’t sit right. If you were going to allow someone control over you, you felt like they had to deserve it. You needed to respect them in some capacity. 

You tried choking during sex, while it did heighten the pleasure their hand felt so small it broke your concentration. Bondage was fun, you got a rush from shibari, but all it did was inform your dreams. 

You tried femdom, and while it was impowering it didn’t scratch that itch. You tried being a sub, but like before you found the people over you as unworthy of you. You didn’t think so highly of yourself, it’s just that autonomy was precious and these people were, well, just people. Mortals.  

Your friends enjoyed your hoe era, self titled, but it was short lived. It had been eight months since you returned when you bought your first real sex toy, and took up hiking. It felt nice to be outdoors, and the days you spent in the forests seemed to make for nights of  less intense dreams. 

Your toy was, ashamedly, selected for its three points of contact. A pink little vibrator, big enough to need some work into you but not painful. The first time you used it you clung to your pillow, heart ballooning against your spiked blood pressure, and screamed a chorus of his name. The two points inside you vibrating in tandem with the small suction cup shape extending from the base doming your clit brought back delicious memories. 

Every time, you felt embarrassed after. You could imagine him hearing you all the way in hell and chuckling at how pathetic you were. Satisfied at how empty you felt after.

It wasn’t just about the sex, you were never a very sexually needy person. You were chasing that feeling of surrender, of being both safe and out of control at the same time. The little bit of danger with the pleasure. But not, “local woman found dead in the woods” kind of danger. “Corrupt your soul and ruin your afterlife” kind of danger.

After a year of being earthside, life had finally calmed. Were you still fucked in your dreams? Yes, but a manageable once or so a month. Your toy was nice, but not necessary. A man, or anyone, hadn’t touched you in months. And that was alright. You felt almost normal, except the mornings you woke up hoping to see a pair of red eyes somewhere in the room. 

You chalked it up to escapism. 

Work had promoted you, twice, which helped distract you from boredom. While performing one of your monthly employee meetings, you met with a young man you’d recently hired. He was still in college, but he had a good head on his shoulders and made quick decisions. You were confident he’d be your equal within the year.

(Implied childhood trauma below the line; not graphic but it’s implied to have happened)

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

“Tired?” He asked you while you logged back into your computer. 

You nodded, yawning into the back of your hand, “Spent most of Sunday at Shallow Ridge. Scoping out a good camping spot for when it warms up.”

“No shit, my dad hunts out there. Every Sunday, too.”

“I didn’t take you for the hunting type”, You blinked away the exhaustion and opened his employee file.

“Nah I’m not.” He shook his head, “He used to take me all the time when I was little.”

You nodded, not looking at him and only half listening, “Aww, sounds fun.”

He scoffed. You found the audio file of his graded phone calls, double clicking it. The file seemed corrupted. 

“Not fun?” You absentmindedly asked.

You opened the program to manually find the call file. The silence began to creep over you until you felt your chest heavy under the weight of it.

You finally looked at him. The look in his eyes was distant, the color from his face was gone. 

“Hey”, your tone changed, your subconscious recognizing something before you did.

He snapped back up, looking at you now. His smile didn’t meet his eyes. You didn’t say anything, just pushed your chair from your desk and looked directly at him.

“What?” He averted his gaze.

“You know you can tell me anything, right? You’re not just a resource here. Hell, I see you more than my own flesh and blood.”

He nodded, and when he finally brought his eyes back to yours his composure cracked and tears fell down his cheeks in streams. “It’s fine” he forced a laugh, “It was like a million years ago.”

You took off the rest of the day, and after providing hugs and your own tears and information on company sponsored counseling and resources, you went home.

Well, first you went to the camping store. And then home. Your dreams that week were calm, as if they knew you couldn’t enjoy a romp in a field.

When Saturday night bled into Sunday morning, you drove your car to Shallow Ridge. You placed the keys on the front seat and left your phone under the seat itself.

You waited for four hours, but eventually a truck pulled up and the man you saw in various Facebook photos and tagged family Christmas cards made his way into the dense forest. You circled back on the trail, head dizzy. 

You knew you couldn’t overpower him, but you weren’t trying to win. You just wanted to make him hurt. You’d met men like him before. You’d suffered men like him. Survived men like him. When you two crossed paths on the barely marked trail and you were a beat behind him, you stopped, took out the hunting knife you were told could cut bone, and brought it down into the crook of his neck with both hands.

He whipped around, shock and panic on his face as his hands came back from his shoulder bloody. When he scrambled for his gun you sliced at his chest, then again at his throat but it wasn’t deep enough to stop him. 

As he advanced on you, fumbling with his shotgun, you tumbled backwards. He fell with you, pinning you down beneath the full weight of his body on your stomach. Twisting beneath him you almost got onto your side when you sunk the knife into his inner thigh, remembering the artery there from your mother’s surgery. He got the gun loaded, aimed it at your chest, “Crazy bitch!”

“Fuck you.” 

He fired.

Your breath left steam as it flitted weakly from your body, frost still on the ground. Your mouth was open as blood held your face to the forest floor. As your vision darkened, you watched the man slump over and onto the ground beside you. His eyes were open and unmoving. 

A burst of green erupted from beneath you, and you smiled as you sank down into the light.

“Did you miss me terribly, my little doe?”

(Part three)

༻Masterlist༺

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #Helluva boss #helluva boss x hasbin hotel #Hasbin hotel x helluva boss #Smut #fanfic #fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #18+ content #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x you #the radio demon #radio demon #alastor the radio demon

[theemporium]

james eating you out under your hogwarts skirt in the corner of a corridor 🤭

this could literally have been a whole fic tbh bedjwwbkbf anyways thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

This wasn’t the first time one of the marauders’ shenanigans had gone wrong, and you doubted it would be the last. 

But it was very, very different to their usual fuck ups. 

A lot of the time when something went wrong, it was for one of two reasons: either they got caught long before they could even hatch a plan, or something didn’t work out in their favour. You had seen it time and time again in the years you had been friends with the boys, and it never failed to amuse you.

This had been no different. One of them had a stupid idea, the rest of them encouraged it and the planning began. Despite the close friendship you shared with the boys, they never disclosed any details with you, so you were left sitting with the others as they huddled in the corner of the common room discussing their next prank. And ten minutes later, they were out the door to play out the prank, or so you assumed.

Instead, the boys had returned with sheepish looks on their face and a very fidgety James standing behind them, and it was all because the boys had tried to fuck with amortentia.

They fucked up the ingredients or the process—you still weren’t sure of the details—and it seemed James had taken the brunt of it all when he pushed the others away from the bubbling cauldron. 

However, none of you would realise just what side effects the dodgy potion would have on your boyfriend.

“Oh fuck,” your head hit the wall with a thump as you fought to keep your eyes open. “James, baby, please—”

“My pretty girl,” he groaned as his palms massaged the fat of your thighs, squeezing and pulling as he tugged one of your legs over his shoulder. “Taste so fucking good.”

“James,” you breathed out, your gaze shifting down but your skirt intruded the sight of your boyfriend lapping shamelessly at your cunt. “Someone can see us—”

“Don’t care,” he grumbled, his nose nudging against your sensitive clit until you were almost keeling over him. “Wanna taste my girl, princess. Can’t keep me away from her.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your body was humming with white, hot pleasure and the mere fact that anybody—whether it be a student or a professor or even a fucking ghost—could turn the corner as see your boyfriend pressing you against the wall, kneeling between your legs as he ducked under your skirt to eat you out. 

As it would turn out, the side effect of the dodgy potion made your boyfriend fucking insatiable. You had come more times in the last twenty-four hours than you probably had in the last few weeks, and it was all to do with the fact that James couldn’t get enough of you. 

He had you sprawled across the bed until you whined about other people hearing during the night. He had you bent over the common room couch when the rest of the castle was asleep. He had you pressed against the edge of the tub in the prefect bathrooms in the morning. He had his cock down your throat in the quidditch broom closet. He had you up against one of the windows on the staircase up to the divination tower between classes.

James Potter hadn’t let you have a single break to catch your breath since he was hit with the potion, and it was honestly a shock you were still standing at this point. 

“James, baby, please,” you whined, the noise was pathetic and needy, and something about the fact you could hear him slurping against your wet pussy between your pleas just made the coil in your stomach tighten. “We can’t—”

“Shhh, you can take it,” he murmured as his hands tightened around your thighs, pulling you closer to him until you were slumped against the wall with his face pressed against your cunt. “You’re still dripping, princess, can taste myself inside you.”

“Shit,” you hissed, your eyes clenching shut as your thighs squeezed around his head. “James—”

“Fuck, honey, need to fill you up again,” his voice was needy and whiny as he pulled his head out from under your skirt, his nose and chin and lips glistening with your arousal. Your eyes shifted down to see the way his cock strained in his trousers, how hard he was from simply making you come twice on his tongue. “You gonna help me out, princess? Gonna take my cock again?”

You were exhausted and you didn’t even know if you could stand up any longer, but the sight of your boyfriend pleading on his knees as he palmed his cock had your resolve shattering in seconds. 

“Please, Jamie, fill me up again.”

.

#james potter #marauders #harry potter #hp #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter fic #james potter one shot #james potter smut #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #marauders fic #marauders one shot #marauders smut #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter fic #harry potter one shot #harry potter smut #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n #hp fic #hp one shot #hp smut

[colormepurplex2]

Shatter With Me | Waving The White Flag

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

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to story masterlist

Jungkook

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💔💔💔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s, uh…”

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t that right?” he asks.

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

“You’re healthy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, no. You know I don’t—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm? Who?”

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

You shrug. “I wasn’t staring.”

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

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

💔💔💔

Jungkook

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💔💔💔

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” Jungkook answers on the second ring.

“Jungkook.”

“Oh, hey. Everything okay?”

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

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

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

“Why? What’s up?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he breathes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seems pretty simple, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I understand.”

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💔💔💔

Jungkook

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, guys.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, too, Jungkook.”

💔💔💔

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

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

“Yes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

💔💔💔

Jungkook

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

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

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

“You missed it.”

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

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

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

“She? It could be a boy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, is everything okay?”

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

“I’m on my way!”

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

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

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

“O-okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Yeah.”

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

“Do you want me to find a wheelchair?”

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

“Yeah.”

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

“I can come?” he wonders, hopeful.

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

“Oh, she’s not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kinda weird, huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That would be great, thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is everything okay?”

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

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

“Where have you been?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It doesn’t work.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That is not what happened at all!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to story masterlist  

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

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #dilf jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook imagines #bts smut #bts angst #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #bts imagines #bangtanwhq #btsfests

[lady-ashfade]

Our comfort

Platonic!Yan!Camp Half-Blood x Comfort!Goddess!Reader. (Percy, Annabeth, Grover)

—£ Yes I know I haven’t finish the book but I actually couldn’t wait anymore. So, this is me with little knowledge so bare that in mind.

—£ Warnings: Book/show spoilers, Yandere! Behavior, Being bound to a place, Possessive behavior, Obsessive behavior, Manipulation, Characters fighting for the reader’s attention. Short.

You weren’t a known for too long goddess, much younger then rest of the gods. A teenager like age compared to them. It was strange to have more powerful gods look to you for comfort but you love it. As you are the goddess of comfort.

But, as the other gods started to have many demigods you saw how miserable they could get. You hated the fact they didn’t care for their children so you decided to stay at the camp for half-bloods when the time came.

The campers cling to you. You bring a comfort they never quite felt before. It was like a warm hug, like the ones they wanted from their parents.

You couldn’t leave, and at the beginning you were glad to accept that fate.

Almost always you are found surrounded by demigods and they just relax in your comfort. You are the one they go to with every worry in their mind.

Being close to Aphrodite, her seeing you as a sister and a younger child. Stories of your love for one another are still told today, as she gave ideas to the mortals of how great your relationship was. But in reality there wasn’t much to tell.

So her children have a mentality that they are your favorite and because of their mother, they have some sort of claim to you above the others. But that never works because you love the children equally.

The demigods have less nightmares with you around and watching over them.

Ares children fight often for your affection. They will constantly get into fights with others to show they deserve more time with you. Which you always scold them but it never sticks. They kiss their weapons each time to you, like a sign of good luck. Aries children are one of the worsts ones because they get aggressive at times, even with you. But the golds make them stop by punishing them, mostly their father.

Hermes children are hard to explain really. They aren’t aggressive, but they are mischievous. They take their revenge of stealing things from the other campers, pulling pranks. Or trapping some of them up and go straight to you before they can get there. Luke for instance, is always looking around for you and talking about his day. He’s either laying down next to you, or making you watch him train.

Many games of all houses take place just for you.

AnnaBeth, is constantly by your side when she has free time. She scares off people with a glare behind your back, knowing that she could put plan them. She also trains and makes you watcher her and needs your praise. Maybe, somehow you are her older sister. But, sometimes she just chills by your side not saying anything, she’s like a lost duck at times.

Grover however is actually a lost duck. You comfort him when his past missions fail and he loses kids. You are so nice to him and makes him feel special and brave. When he has to leave he keeps a coin in his pocket with your face on it and prays a lot. He’s not possessive much. He’s willing to take what he can get and is just happy to be there. But maybe if someone comes in when he’s “crying” and having you fuss over him then he’ll be a bit mad but never does anything about it.

When a new camper arrives you devote your time to them because they need it a little more. They come into a world they know nothing of, waiting for the parent they hardly know to claim them. You claim them like your own until the time comes.

So when Percy comes you feel something off with him, like he is special and in need of a lot. He lost his mom, taken from the world he knew.

Percy becomes the most possessive out of all of them.

He feels out of place but you are always there to listen to him. It doesn’t help that you follow him to make sure he’s okay. At the beginning you’re both following each other around.

“It’s okay, Percy.” You brush his hair lightly like his mother used to do. “You’ll get claim, and you’ll have glory.” And he doesn’t care if you say that to everyone because you make him feel special. 

Also, you protect the new bloods. So you’ll show up when he gets bullied and just raise one brow and they all back off. Can’t risk making you mad at them.

When Percy gets claimed he’s all alone again, no friends and the campers looking at him funny. Being one of the top threes son isn’t fun or easy. He shares a cabin all to himself.

So he starts to be the worst of them all. Raising his voice when you try and leave him and he manipulates you to stay with him. Can’t you see how alone he is?

He can’t sleep unless he knows your watching over him.

You pick no sides of the war. Your family will figure it out themselves, while you take care of their children.

#disney plus percy jackson #plantonic percy jackson x reader #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #yandere percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #platonic #yandere #grover underwood x reader #yandere annabeth chase #annabeth chase x reader #annabeth chase #grover underwood #yandere Grover underwood #yandere greek gods #yandere annabeth chase x reader #I stand peter Johnson

[suncoved]

STOP IT RAFE, YOU'RE BEING MEAN! — RAFE CAMERON

pairing; bestfriend!rafe cameron x fem!reader

summary; rafe has a strict rule that if you ever leave anywhere, you tell him. and when you break that rule, he goes ballistic (bsf!rafe cameron x reader)

warnings ; angst! verbal fighting, angry!rafe, kinda mean rafe, theyre both annoyingly oblivious.. warning this did not turn out how i planned it to be but im also not mad at it, idkkkk

to say you were bored was an understatement.

it was a regular rowdy saturday night in the outerbanks, this nights party being at a random kooks house on the figure eight whose name you couldn't quite remember

you were nursing a forgotten red solo cup of punch in your hand, crowd-watching to pass the time.

it wasn't normal that rafe actually succeeded in convincing you to come to these things. because as much as you liked chatting with spoiled self-absorbed kooks over disgustingly sweet punch, you'd rather stay cuddled up in your fluffy pyjamas and watch sappy romcoms on rafe's couch.

but nevertheless, here you were. dreading every decision you had ever made up to that point as you watched rafe from across the room. a blonde kook girl climbing over him and straddling his hips, sitting on his lap as he smirked.

you knew you really had no right being mad at him because you weren’t dating.

but from the start of your more than 10 year friendship, rafe made it clear that you were and always will be his.

so why didn’t that rule go both ways?

with all the thoughts bouncing around in your head, you failed to hear a certain blonde pouges voice echo around you.

you snapped out of your state, consciousness returning to your mind as a hand was waved repeatedly in your face.

“hey! you there princess?” a smile adorned the boys face, a ratty snapback placed backwards on his blonde hair.

“yeah, jj. right here” you joked, smiling brightly back at him as you brought your cup up to your lips.

“thought we lost you there for a bit princess? what’d you doing standing here all alone?” jj asked, surprised to see your constant kook king shadow nowhere to be seen.

“just people watching, the usual. where’s kie?” you quickly changed the subject, wanting anything to get your mind off of rafe.

“around here somewhere i hope. gonna’ try to round everyone up to we can get outta here. early morning for us cut goers tomorrow, fish to catch and things to steal” you giggled at his joke, earning an even wider grin on his face.

you always liked jj. you thought he was funny, and he was the most loyal person to his friends that you knew. and despite his manic tendencies, you trusted him.

“have a nice night j. drive safe!” you said, watching him wink at you before he disappeared into the crowd.

with jj gone, you were left to your own thoughts agian, which was never a good thing.

you glanced over again at rafe sitting comfortably on the couch on the deck. the light from inside illuminating his face as he leaned over to the table, picking up a small bag of white powder and handing it to a random touran.

you bit your lip as you noticed the same blonde from before clinging to his side, rafe seeming unbothered but making no move to push her off.

god, you couldn’t even imagine how rafe would react if he saw you speaking to jj earlier. so why is it that he can literally let a girl dry hump him in the middle of a party and you shouldn’t care?

you didn’t know why you cared though, because rafe is you best friend, nothing more.

right?

you didn’t have time to think about that right now though, you just needed to get the fuck out of this party right now or you were gonna explode.

an idea clicked in your brain and jj dragged a drunk john b towards the entrance of the house, kiara and pope following quickly behind.

you decided that this was now or never, placing your red solo cup onto a random table as you walked towards them.

“hey jj!” you called out, his head immediately snapping towards you. “you think you could give me a ride home?”

it was nearly 30 minutes later that rafe noticed you were no longer in your spot in corner of the house. business was coming to a halt as he sold his last few grams of cocaine, a heavy wad of cash safely resting in his back pocket.

his eyes scanned the crowd for your face, but you were no where to be seen.

and rafe was starting to freak the fuck out.

he knew you wouldn’t go upstairs to any bedrooms, or go out for an impulse swim in the pool. and he knew most of all that you wouldn’t just leave without telling him, and the notification box in his voice remained empty from your contact.

he ran his hand roughly through his hair, pulling aggressively at the roots and cussing to himself frustrated.

his eyes widened as he saw your friend in the crowd, interrupting what ever useless conversation she was having, because until he knew you were safe, nothing was more important.

he asked rudely where you were, watching as her face morphed into shock that rafe was talking to her. because well, if it’s not plotting on the pouges or selling drugs, rafe doesn’t interact with anyone but you or his friends.

“i-i im not sure. i saw her leave like a bit less than half an hour ago. i thought she told you, she always does”

rafe clenched his jaw, hundreds and thousands of thoughts running through his head. “was she alone?”

“n-no. she was with that jj guy and his friends” your friend murmured, nervous she was ratting you out to the scariest guy in the whole of kildare.

it was safe to say that rafe was fucking pissed.

it took him less than a few seconds to put his keys into the ignition of his jeep and drive illegally fast to your house. you liked to piss him off often when you were in a mood, but never with your safety.

rafe never fucked with your safety, ever.

he murmured venomous cusses to himself and he walked towards your house, the pebbles from your mothers perfect drive way crunching under his feet as he speed to your door.

he made a beeline to the entrance of your home, the white arches welcoming and the doorway dimly lit by the porch lights.

he planted his feet straight on the 'welcome home' door mat, lifting his balled fist up to the door and sending booming knocks to the wood panel.

his knuckles were white as he clenched his fists so hard together there was sure to be crimson-red crescent indents from his fingernails. he was fuming.

the click of the lock releasing from the door snapped him out of his thoughts, the door handle turning and the lobby of the inside of your house quickly coming into view.

he locked eyes with your figure immediately, a pink fluffy towel in your hand as you dried your hair. you were only wearing a pair of long socks and rafes shirt which reached more than halfway down your thighs, your face bare of makeup.

you jumped as you saw the look on his face, an anger prevalent in his stare that you had never seen directed at you. fuck. you were in some deep shit.

you parted your lips to speak, but nothing seemed to come out. for the first time in your life, you were scared of rafe. not that he was going to harm you physically, no, never that.

but you knew how much he cared about you and your safety. you just wished he cared that much about your feelings. you wanted him to see that.

"rafe" you said, your voice coming out as a whisper as you watch the lines on his forehead crease together as thousands of thoughts ran through his head.

"what the fuck were you thinking?" he spat as he pushed you as softly as he could into the house so he could close the door, worried the cold of the night was going to make you shiver.

you didn't have time to answer before he started again, running a hand roughly through his hair as he huffed. "you just left? you fucking left a party at night without even texting me, and you let that fucking pouge drive you home!"

you rolled your eyes at the last statement, this was all about jj? "so that's all you care about? me going home with a boy i've known since third grade who just so happens to live on the cut? you don't give a shit about me, you just care about this stupid kook pouge rivalry!"

"don't say what you know isn't true ma. you know i care about you more than i care about myself." he stated, nearly all the anger in him draining out as he saw your eyes begin to fill with tears. he couldn't handle seeing you cry.

"how do i know you care about me rafe? because you don't seem to show it." you sighed pushing yourself as far away from him as you could, your back pushing up against the wall.

"don't fucking say to me y/n. i've loved you from the moment i met you." you finally stopped looking at the floor, lifting your chin so you made eye contact with him.

"stop it rafe, you're being mean" you whispered, mostly to yourself more than rafe. you couldn't listen to him say how much he loved and cared about you for one more second. not when you still had the picture of him being essentially dry-humped in the middle of a party by a girl you didn't even know.

"ma i love you. you know that. you're my world, my favourite girl. why are you fighting this?" rafe said, trying to hold you wrist in his hand before you quickly pulled it away.

"bec-because you can't just say all this then turn around and have make outs with other girls right in front of me. it-its not fair." you spoke, the tears finally making their way down your cheeks in steady streams.

rafe physically flinched at your statement, his palms getting sweaty and his heart rate increasing into rapid beats. was he actually going to admit his love for you right now, like this?

"what are you saying y/n?" he asked, his voice cracking as his face fell. his mind racing with how many outcomes could come out of this conversation.

"that i love you, you idiot!"

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron drabble #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron angst

[hedgehog-moss]

The great thing about having no internet for a couple of weeks is, you get so much stuff done. I've made great strides in my fight against invasive plants in the pasture!

^ This large rock used to be lost in a sea of broom, you couldn't even see it.

It's a lot more fastidious now that I'm uprooting plants one by one with the root slayer instead of clearing the whole area with a brushcutter, but hopefully they'll no longer be able to sneakily bide their time underground and then grow back even stronger from their intact root system.

I took some in-progress pictures—don't these invasive plants look like a retreating army?

We've had a tiny bit of April snow—I don't know if I can call it that, the air just felt icy and wet and tangible, if I opened my mouth I could feel snowflakes fly into it but nothing was actually falling on the ground. It felt like being repeatedly enveloped then dismissed by clouds that had made plans to drop their snowflakes elsewhere.

But every time I saw Pandolf he looked like a starry night, so there really were snowflakes in the air!

It felt very satisfying to come home with my face and hands all numb and warm up by stuffing entire wheelbarrows' worth of broom into the wood oven then throwing a match. Ever since I've learnt that this plant attracts ticks, burning it has felt like defeating two enemies at once. I listen to the lovely little crackling sounds of a broomfire and picture hundreds of ticks popping like popcorn.

My animals didn't enjoy being stuck inside snow clouds all day—I saw the llamas use their shelter for once, and Pandolf politely asked to come in and sit by the fire instead of staying out to collect more snowflakes in his fur, so I think they were all already in spring mode in their minds.

Merricat also (less politely) asked for shelter, but Merricat treats every instance of wet weather like a national scandal that I personally failed to prevent.

Even the hens wanted to come sit by the fire, and when I said no (you are hens), one of them ignored me and walked in, resolutely, clucking for the younger hen to follow her, like "let me teach you how it's done".

You know when you want to eat a crêpe in a crêpe restaurant in Paris and the waiter looks baffled that you envisage to buy food in his food establishment and he says no that won't possible, and you're like these people over there are having coffee they're almost done we'll just wait inside for their table!, and (with mounting horror) he says no no no if you really insist on giving us your money then you must wait in the street for the privilege, and watch the diners through the window like little orphans, and then your more assertive, confident friend militantly walks in anyway, encouraging you like, come on he's not gonna call the police, we're about to pay 12€ for 1 crêpe I think we can wait inside thank you very much—because a dismissive aristocratic aplomb is the only attitude that'll get you a table in a crêperie in Montparnasse sometimes? It was pretty much this dynamic. Between me and my hens.

#crawling along #my internet came back this afternoon! i had lost all hope #the icy snow clouds solidified the little particles of internet in the air (i think)

[spamgyu]

SVT HHU - Orange Peel Theory // Drabble

orange peel theory is making it's rounds on local tiktok and twitter. this is my humorous take on how the HIP HOP UNIT discuss/deal with the orange peel theory with their significant others.

[vu] [pu]

SEUNGCHEOL

"would you peel this for me?" she placed a tangerine on his desk – not caring if he was in the middle of playing his video games.

without having to ask twice, seungcheol hid his character behind a container, away from his opponents shots and reached for the fruit. "cover me, wonwoo." he mumbled into the mic, peeling the citrus with ease. "just one?"

y/n smiled as he handed the fruit back to her. "just one."

"that's so small. get another." seungcheol nodded over to the kitchen.

"no this is fine." she shook her head, happy with the results.

he probably thought she was hungry, and considering dinner was hours away, seungcheol knew it would not be enough to hold her off.

standing from his seat, he made his way to the bag of cuties they had purchased at the store – peeling two more.

"that's enough." she laughed, stopping him from peeling a third one.

WONWOO

"baby?"

"hm?" he responded from the other side of the couch, preoccupied with his mobile game.

"would you peel an orange for me?"

wonwoo glanced up, looking behind her to see an empty counter top – a place where they usually kept their fruits.

locking his phone, wonwoo bounded for the door – leaving his girlfriend confused. "where are you going?"

"getting oranges." he replied, as if it was the most obvious response – grabbing his keys off of the hook.

"wait–" y/n laughed, walking over to him. "it was hypothetical."

wonwoo's head tilted to the side, puzzled by the point she was trying to make. "why would it be hypothetical? you asked meaning you want it. it's okay i can get–"

"baby it's a tiktok trend." she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"to ask if i would peel an orange?" he asked slowly.

"they said if you would peel an orange for your significant other, you would do any mundane task for the–"

"i need you to understand i'd peel the earth for you."

throwing her head back, she let out another laugh. she knew he was joking but his delivery had sent her over – keeping a straight face as he replied the most outlandish way possible.

MINGYU

she knew he would peel the orange for her, she didn't need to ask.

in the three years they had been together, not once had she had to open a canned drink, twist open a cap off a bottled water, plan a single date, open her own doors – hell, she hadn't had to put her own gas in her car since she began dating the king of acts of service.

he had done it without being asked.

since being with him, she had been able to turn her brain off – fulfilling her life long wish of being treated like a princess.

but she also didn't think it would be such a hot topic when she had showed him the tiktok of the orange peel theory.

"i'm not humoring this. i won't." he shook his head for the third time.

"why not?!" y/n stomped.

"fine, you want peeled oranges?" mingyu grumbled, walking over to their fruit bowl, peeling the citrus and placing it in front of her. "here."

looking at the bare fruit, y/n couldn't help but wince. not because of his actions.

but because she hated the sight of the white pith. she hated peeled oranges.

it was far too messy to eat and the texture of the white fuzz surrounding it gave her the heebie-jeebies – shuddering just at the thought of touching it.

"exactly." mingyu grabbed another orange and a knife – slicing it in quarters. "i can't peel it because you like it sliced."

she stood there dumfounded as he left the kitchen chuckling.

he won this round.

VERNON

"that's dumb." vernon snorted as his girlfriend showed him the third tiktok of someone's boyfriend failing miserably at their significant other's attempts to ask them to peel an orange for them.

"it's also kinda funny." she laughed.

"i'm one step ahead though."

furrowing her brows, she gave him a look from the other side of the couch.

"that," vernon pointed to the small potted plant resting by their window sill. "is gonna be an orange tree."

he had recently been very into assisting her with finding decorations for their new shared home, at times coming home with various plants and art works. she had gotten accustomed to his random home-good shopping sprees, she didn't dare bat an eye when he had come home with a real potted plant the other day. it would just be another addition to their countless ones that he used to brighten up their home.

"you bought an orange tree– plant?" her eyes wide. he never was the green thumb, killing the cactus she had bought for him years ago. she figured she would be the one to tend to this new plant.

"anyone can peel an orange." he shrugged. "i'll move it to the yard when it gets bigger."

"oh my god."

@thegirlwhoimagined @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @hanniebaby95 @vanillacheol @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @alwaysalmostthere

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

#let's get this straight all of svt WOULD peel the orange for their s/o #i'll make it for other units too...maybe... we'll see... hhu brainrot is so bad rn #svt scenarios #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #wonwoo x reader #mingyu x reader #vernon x reader #hansol x reader #seventeen fluff #spamwrites #svt hhu