#i will draw more. it will take time but i will. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tonycries · 3 days

Text

Never Ever Seen This Before!

Synopsis. There’s a first time for everything - including trying out dirty little kínks with them.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, cóckwarming, mating press, oral (female + male receiving), manhandling, marking, spitting, bóndage, spanking (Nanami’s), dynamics, degradation, cúmplay, squírting, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. *sigh* can’t believe I deleted this before. If you know, then YOU KNOW.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Stay still, goddammit!

Was being stuffed full of your boyfriend’s thick cock at all times really too much to ask? You think not.

Toji, however, really didn’t see the point.

“But, doll.” he groans, dragging his tip lazily in-between your swollen folds. And it was so sloppy - slick trailing down his length, smearing across the sheets. “Jus’ wanna fuck your pretty lil’ cunt.”

It’s not that Toji doesn’t like the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around his cock. No, he loves it - is addicted even. And he loves it especially when you attack him in the morning like this - his pretty girl, all splayed out on her side, barely even blinking the sleep out of her eyes before you ache for his dick.

But, really, what’s the use of staying still - he’d rather fuck you till you’re breathless and creaming around his cock.

“Toji, you promised we’d try. Jus’ want to be stuffed full of your cock.” you pout, batting your lashes behind at him. “Don’ make me go on a sex ban.”

Oh, you little minx. He knew all your dirty tricks - yet, fell for them each time anyway. “Fine. Then fucking-” he lifts your legs a little higher, hips pulling back ever-so-slightly. “Take it.”

You barely even hear the rest of his sentence because Toji’s immediately bullying his throbbing dick into your pussy. Pushing against the resistance as you struggle to take his thick cock, not stopping till he’s buried all the way in your wet cunt.

Smirking at the way you mewl and grind your hips back into his, he wraps two muscled arms around your waist, holding you still on his cock. Murmuring in your ear, low and gravelly, “Not s’pposed to move, doll. Remember?

God, he knows you feel the way he twitches inside your dripping cunt at the way you whisper out a shaky little, “Y-yeah. No moving.”

And stubbornly you grit your teeth, being able to do nothing more than clamp down so deliciously on Toji’s pulsing cock as you stay still, relishing in the burn of him stretching you impossibly.

And maybe it’s been minutes - or even hours, because God did it feel that way to Toji as he watched you being broken by the mere feeling of being split apart on his cock. Patience slowly waning, he snakes down a hand to your poor, forgotten clit. Index tracing lightly over the sensitive bud.

“T-Toji what-” you immediately jolt, finally getting an ounce of the friction your cunt has been aching for this whole time. Mindlessly grinding into his erection - only to be stopped by a large hand on your hip.

“No moving, doll. Remember?”

“But-”

“Didn’t say anything about playing with your pretty lil’ clit now, did you?” he hums, knowing you were playing right into his hands. “Now. Don’t move.”

Ah, you can do nothing but lay there and take it as Toji presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Fingers starting to press, frantic, hard little circles on your swollen clit. Over and over- Like he was fucking you with his fingers the way he couldn’t with his dick.

Ugh, damn him. Damn him and his fingers that knew you so well.

It was maddening.

“Toji- please.” you sob out, powerless against the bruising grip keeping you in place. You wanted to move. You wanted him so bad.

“‘Please’ what?” he grunts. Clearly torn between focusing on drawing steady, agonizing patterns on your clit and fighting that feral part of himself that just wants to plunge into your pretty pussy over and over. Not stopping till you were cockdrunk and crying to cum.

“Please just fuck me- ah!”

Oh, you didn’t have to tell Toji twice. Because in one, fluid move, Toji’s pulling back, fucking you with harsh, jerky little movements of his hips. Twitching balls smacking you with each thrust. Not even caring to wait and let you adjust because fuck cockwarming, he’s wanted this so long and your needy lil’ pussy is milking him so good- “Shhh, it’s okay, doll. We have lotsa time to practice.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - So mean!

Nanami Kento was a gentleman. Always holding the door open, guiding you through crowds, gifting you bouquets even when there wasn’t a special occasion.

The only problem was that Nanami was a gentleman even when you didn’t want him to be. Even when what you really wanted was for him to push you down and tease you till you were crying and begging for his cock.

Like right now - kissing softly down your neck, large hands trailing across your skin as he lays you gently on your bed. Long fingers dipping into your soaked panties, drawing delicate patterns on your quivering thighs. But you’re not in the mood for delicate.

“K-Kento!” you whine, hips bucking into his featherlight touches. “Can we ah- do that thing we talked about?”

“I don’t want to hurt you, darling.” he murmurs against your skin.

You let out a pouty whine, one that you knew would make him break. “But I want you to, Kento. Wan’ you to break me. Please.”

He lets out a resigned sigh, running a hand through his hair. A loaded second of silence passes. One. Two. And just as you’re about to admit defeat, surprisingly, it’s Nanami that breaks the silence. “Fine then. Face down, ass up if you want to act like such a lil’ slut.”

You scramble to do what he says, mind reeling from the fact that oh this was Nanami - the same Nanami who’d never raised his voice or ever called you anything other than terms of endearment.

“Hm, good.” he grits out.

And that’s all you hear before a deafening rip! rings through the heady room. Looking back in shock, you realize with a jolt that Nanami had your tattered panties in his hands, your dripping cunt on full display for him.

As he positions himself behind you, resting his swollen cock the curve of your ass. Mindlessly, you push back against the feeling of Nanami’s achingly hard cock, hot and heavy on your skin, precum smearing everywhere. “Ken-”

Smack!

“Not Kento, darling.” he murmurs, palms smoothing over your ass. Lips kissing down your spine, in a way that would be so sweet if it wasn’t for the way he had you under his mercy.

You let out a strangled moan at the sharp sting, his large handprint searing into your skin. “S-sir?” you whisper, almost-experimentally. And oh was it the right answer - because he groans appreciatively, dick jumping so animalistically at the term leaving your swollen lips.

“Oh? So my slutty girl does know how to be good, huh?” he murmurs, voice so uncharacteristically dangerous. Hands spreading your swollen folds to take in the sight of your wet pussy. “Shit. Since m’feeling so nice, count to five n’ I’ll fill that tight lil’ cunt with my cock.”

You barely have the time to wonder what he means before you feel a sharp slap against your ass. Forcing you to yelp out a strained little, “O-one, sir.”

Nanami hungry eyes greedily take in the fat tears clinging to your lashes, hips bucking into his for more. Your mouth dropping into such a delicious little oh! as you’re torn between pain and pleasure.

You were so sweet falling apart underneath him that he can’t help but do it again. Smack! And again. Smack!

“Two. Hah! N’ t-three.”

Good, now it was time to put his good girl to the test.

With a low hiss of appreciation, he drags his throbbing cock across your wet folds, gathering your sweet juices on his tip. At the same time, Nanami’s hand connects with your ass again. Hard. Smack!

“Ah! Oh-”

“Count.”

“Four! Ngh- four, sir.”

Nanami’s amusement spikes at the way you were so desperately rutting into his cock. And, well, what his pretty slut wants - she gets, right?

Several things happen at once, he swiftly raises his hand for a final, hard smack. Hips reeling back ever-so-slightly to ram his cock into your snug cunt at the same time. Smack!

“Ah! Kento- Kento hgnh- shit feel s’good inside me.” you mewl, drunk off both the sharp sting on your ass and Nanami bullying his thick cock into your tight pussy, filling you up so good.

But not for long - because as soon as he was stuffing you full of his cock, Nanami’s pulling out just as fast. Your pussy clenching around nothing as you whirl behind to pout at him. Only for whatever whine to get stuck in your throat at two fingers shoving something flimsy and wet in your mouth. Forcing you to taste yourself.

Gagging around your soaked panties, a jolt runs down your spine at the positively feral glint in his eyes. Blinking away the tears in your eyes to take in the cruel little smile playing on his lips as he leans in closer to whisper, “My lil’ slut can’t even seem to remember what to call me, huh? I think she should be punished.”

Oh.

What have you done?

♡ GETO SUGURU - Drown me in it!

Geto Suguru has done it all - folded you in half, stuffed you full from all ends, had you begging and crying for more underneath him. He can confidently say that he hasn’t shied away from ticking off everything on the list.

That is until one random night in the shower, when he gets an epiphany - oh shit, Geto hasn’t made you squirt yet. Yes, it was the sudden image of you covering him in all your sweet juices. But more importantly - how dare he let his pretty girl go so long without cumming so hard you see the pearly gates of heaven?

So - like any good boyfriend - Geto has you splayed out on his navy sheets, your legs in the air, his painfully hard cock buried in your dripping cunt.

“Hngh- please. Shit shit shit m’cumming-” you whine, hips bucking wildly into his. Tears streaming down your face, clenching so hard around his dick that it makes it hard for Geto to thrust in and out at his steady, torturous rhythm. Fucking you through- which number orgasm was this again?

Ah, it doesn’t matter - because you didn’t squirt. Again.

“Awww…” you can barely hear his words over the blood roaring in your ears. “Didn’t squirt on that one either. C’mon now, my love, I know y’can do it f’me.”

Not wasting a second, Geto’s ramming his cock into your snug cunt once more. Heavy balls stinging your ass with each thrust - not even easing you into it any more because oh your little sobs were so pretty. Squirming and bucking into his touch despite your protests. “S-Sugu- I hah-, can’t-”

Now, as much as Geto loved your smart mouth - he loved it even more when you’re cockdrunk and babbling underneath him. Huffing out a laugh, he murmurs in your ear, “Yes, my love?” Veins grazing that one spot. Hard. “Can’t what?”

“Can’t cum anymore!”

Well - greedy gaze drinking in the way your swollen cunt swallowed him up so well, slick dripping down to his twitching balls - Geto begged to differ.

“Shut up. You will.” he mutters, shifting the angle to hit that one spot that has you gasping and bucking your hips for more. Your fists bunching up the soaked sheets below you, fucking yourself desperately into his throbbing cock. Curling deftly against that one spot. Over and over-

“Close, my love?” Geto sing-songs, “Think this could be the one?”

And oh does he find out. Because you’re cumming again - stars behind your eyes, walls clamping down so sinfully as he fucks you through your high. Your nails claw at his shoulders in an effort to get him to fucking slow down - but no, Geto is ruthless with his abuse. Hips faltering only once you show signs of your high bating.

And before you can even react, your boyfriend’s starting his movements again. Milking himself on your heavenly pussy.

You can’t even form coherent sentences at this point, only fucked-out whimpers leaving your swollen lips - it’s been like this for hours now. You’ve cum more times than you can probably count, yet here Geto was - not even once tonight. A slow, agonizing torture for the both of you. All because he wanted you to fucking squirt.

His thumb was ravaging your sensitive clit, pleasure nothing more than tingles now as Geto fucking ruins you. Hips bullying his thick cock into your heated pussy, thrusts no more than sloppy little movements. Your pussy dripping onto your bedroom floor.

Unforgiving. Geto Suguru was absolutely unforgiving.

“C’mon, my love.” his words were so sweetly whispered in your ear - barely audible over your cries. Geto nips at your earlobe, purring lowly, “Squirt on this one, n’ I’ll fill your pretty lil’ pussy with my cum like you want s’bad.”

And then, it happens - something snaps.

Your orgasm crashes through you. So violent and hard that you see flashes of white behind your eyes. You cry out, trembling as your sloppy pussy squirts all over Geto. Covering him in all your sweet juices till his abs are glistening with your slick. Dripping down his body and absolutely soaking the sheets below.

And oh how he was entranced. Geto barely registers his own orgasm, hips faltering as he pumps thick, hot ropes of seed into your quivering cunt. Cumming at the mere sight of you creaming on his cock. His pretty girl was so gorgeous squirting all over him.

It was so so worth edging the both of you to the brink of insanity. He thinks his only regret was not having you squirt all over his face too.

Well…now he only had to see if he could do it twice.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Lollipop!

Shit, you thought your best friend would have a huge dick - but this was ridiculous.

So intimidatingly long and pretty, swollen tip flushed your favorite shade of pink, matching his blushing cheeks. Beads of precum leaking down, down, down the side so mouth-wateringly as you seat yourself in-between those sculpted thighs.

“Y-you sure about this, sweetheart?” Choso hisses, despite the way his cock throbs animalistically in your soft hands.

You raise a brow, batting your lashes so deceivingly innocently. “Are you sure, Cho? S’your first, after all.”

He should say no. He should laugh it off as a joke. He shouldn’t ruin this friendship - but oh how badly he wanted to see your pretty lips wrapped around his dick. Have you choking and gagging around him. So, any rationality thrown out the window, Choso nods slowly. Entranced.

Grinning wickedly, you whisper, hot breath making his angry cock twitch “Thought so.”

“But are you su- hngh!” Whatever sentence at the tip of his tongue is cut off as you spit on his length. Once. Twice. Your palms smearing the saliva along his throbbing length. Enough of an answer. And then there’s no more talking.

Choso’s mouth drops into a fucked-out little oh! of disbelief as your tongue darts out to collect the saliva and precum pooling at his head.

Moaning at his slightly salty taste, you take in as much of him as you can - inch by fucking inch. Not stopping till your nose meets the small tufts of black hair at this toned pelvis. Because this was your devastatingly sexy best friend and he deserved the best.

God, Choso already thinks he could pass out.

Heavy balls squeezing so painfully, his veins graze against the roof of your mouth as you start bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless pace. Milking Choso’s pretty cock for all he’s worth. Not even easing him into his first, because fuck only one taste and you’re already addicted.

So, really, it only makes sense that Choso was the same. “Oh- Oh fuck! Feels s’good hngh-” he babbles, hips bucking up involuntarily into your warm, plush mouth. “Shit shit shit oh-.”

Was this what heaven felt like? He really was missing out.

“Oh, fuck. Yeah, feel s’good around me, sweetheart.” he groans, as you tongue at his sensitive slit. Fingers digging into the soft armrest while he tries to keep himself together.

You notice - of course you do - because soon enough you’re grabbing his arms to rest on your head, teary eyes blinking up at him so sinfully as you suck the soul out of him.

In a split-second, Choso’s carding his fingers through your hair, holding you steady as he rams his cock down your throat.

“Fuck- m’s-sorry, sweetheart. S’too ngh- fucking good.” his words slur together, drunk off the way you gag around him. Letting yourself be so used as he fucks your mouth so ferally. Not half the man he was just a moment ago.

By God were you a vision, he thinks deliriously - tears stinging your eyes, drool dripping down the corner of your mouth, lips stretching so lewdly around him as you take him in and out in and out in and- And if he angled your head just right he could see the bulge in your throat. Him - all him. “Sorry- ah! s’pretty hgnh- pretty when you’re full of my cock.”

“Gonna be m’first, huh?” he moans deliriously, “”Gonna let me fuck up into that pretty lil’ mouth whenever I want?”

The only response he gets are your pathetic, wet gurgles, and the smacking of his heavy balls hitting your chin. This was heaven and you were an angel.

And that only makes Choso speed up his sloppy thrusts more. Each thrust deeper and harder than the last. Balls tightening, feeling his sanity crumbling away each time his throbbing erection hits the back of your throat. Over and over-

“Ah! Sweetheart- m’not gonna last long. M’close-” he lets out a guttural groan, tugging on your hair to pull you away.

But alas, you seemed every bit intent on ruining him. Because the only response he gets are your nails digging deeper into his milky hips, leaving angry, red marks in their wake. Ones for him to remember you by - not that he thinks he could ever forget this.

And that itself is enough to have Choso spilling into your mouth. Shooting thick, hot spurts of seed down your waiting throat.

Messy. It was so fucking messy.

Heart in his throat, breaths ragged, Choso has to blink his vision back. And if he thought he was going to pass out before then he wasn’t ready for you to proudly stick out your tongue - showing absolutely no trace of his cum. Swallowing everything he gives.

“I-I think,” he starts, voice shot, “S’time for me to return the favor.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Drunk on you(r cunt)!

Why the hell would the King of Curses ever kneel down to anyone?

Why would he ever wrestle your legs so shamefully open, dive nose-first into your pretty pussy, and tease you with his tongue for hours? Ignoring his angry, achingly hard cock for the sole purpose of making you cum and only making you cum?

But, well, that’s exactly what happened.

“Oh- Kuna! Please-” you mewl, big fat tears dripping down your face at this point. Not knowing whether to move your hips away or buck up into his tongue for more more more-

“What now, brat?” he hums into your dripping cunt, vibrations making you squeal. “Complained that I don’t eat out your pretty lil’ cunt n’ now you’re acting so spoiled?”

Ah, there it was - that offhand little remark that got you into this mess. “B-but,” you whine, stars behind your eyes each time Sukuna laps at your sweet juices. “Didn’t think you’d be so mean-”

All you get is a dark chuckle as Sukuna sucks on your throbbing clit, so sensitive from his relentless abuse. Rolling his tongue over it so teasingly.

Now, this might be his first time eating you out, but he knows exactly what you need - what you crave. And the way your body trembled under his touch told Sukuna everything about how you were brinking so dangerously close to the edge. Too close.

“Please, Kuna! Wan’ cum s’bad.” you cry out, broken little moans of pleasure leaving your swollen lips. Ones which quickly turn into disappointed whines as he pulls away. Again.

“M’not being mean.” he murmurs in your ear, drinking in that adorable little pout on your face.

In the haze of your lust-addled mind, you barely register the way he flips you two to lay on his back. Manhandling you further up the mattress you to be splayed out so sinfully above him - thighs straddling his devastatingly handsome face, hot breath hitting your dripping cunt.

“See?” Sukuna hums, tongue darting out to catch the obscene drip! drip! drip! of your slick. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as lets your sweet juices slide down his throat. “M’the best fucking boyfriend you’ll ever have.” And with that, he’s bullying his tongue through your swollen fold. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Over and over-

“Ngh- feels s’good. Ah fillin’ me up s’good.” you squeal, bucking your hips desperately into his pretty face, broken little whimpers leaving you at each rough push of Sukuna’s tongue.

Why was he so reluctant again? Something about stupid fucking pride? Fuck that, Sukuna would be on his knees every day if it meant he got to taste you like this. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal.

God, you were pretty sure you’d be collapsing onto him if it wasn’t for the strong hand holding your hips. Grip almost bruising as he rocks you harder - more obscenely - on his tongue. The other snakes down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your swollen clit - as if you weren’t losing your sanity enough

And maybe if you were in a better state of mind you’d have noticed that Sukuna was, too. Eyes half-lidded, slick glistening down his jaw, pussy-drunk and watching awe-struck at the sinful sight of you. Devouring the sight of you the way he was with your cunt.

Fuck, why does this feel so good? He wasn’t even fucking getting off, but the more he made out with your sweet cunt, the more he could feel himself edging closer and closer to the edge. Rock-hard cock angry and leaking precum all over his abs. The great Ryomen Sukuna cumming in his pants from eating his pretty girl out?

Shit, Sukuna thinks deliriously, he was gonna have to make you cum. Soon.

“Kuna- m’close.” you whimper, voice so soft as if you were afraid of being teased again.

“Oh yeah, brat?” he mutters into your folds, “Want it s’badly, huh? Wan’ cum on my tongue?”

The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Yes yes yes! Can’t take it anymore, wan’ cum. Make me cum, please!” you keen. Fucked-out little whines of Sukuna’s name leaving your mouth as he speeds up his movements.

“Then cum.”

And you are, clenching so lewdly around his soft tongue as you ride out your high on his face. Your juices glossing his lips so prettily. And oh Sukuna’s so entranced by you creaming around his tongue that he almost misses the feel of thick, hot spurts of his cum now pooling on his abs. Fuck, he was going to have to do this very often.

♡ GOJO SATORU - Break him!

Gojo always fucked you like his own personal sextoy. And now, it was only time for you to pay back the favor. Which is why you had him handcuffed to the bed, shirtless and splayed out to absolutely fucking ruin.

“Hah, don’t worry, baby. I’ll be gentle.” Gojo chuckles, tugging on the metal cuffs. Still so cocky despite the way his throbbing dick was leaking all over his sculpted abs, twitching at the mere sound of your voice.

“How nice.” you hum, sliding your pussy across his swollen cock, drenching him in your juices. “Because I won’t be.” And before Gojo can retort, you’re sinking down on his achingly hard cock, squeezing him inside your tight cunt as much as you can.

“Shit shit shit, yes. Your pretty lil’ pussy feel s’amazing wrapped around me. You sure you can handle it all, baby?”

You waste no time. Slamming down on Gojo’s leaking cock in one, abrupt motion, walls burning at the stretch as your ass meets his heavy balls. They twitch against you as you start moving in steady little bounces, sliding his thick cock in and out of your dripping cunt. In out in and out in and-

“Shit, baby. Fuckin’ me s’good ah! Hngh-” Gojo’s sinful moans come in ragged bursts. Fucking up into your pussy in shallow, defiant little thrusts to bully himself deeper and deeper inside you. But not for long - because you��re pushing his hips down, nails digging into the milky skin of his hips.

“Nope.” you hum, grinning at his pout. “Not till you admit defeat, Toru.”

“What defeat? That all you got, baby?” Gojo scoffs.

Stubborn bastard.

“‘What defeat’, huh?” you taunt. Leaning down so your breath fans his pretty face, “Said I couldn’t- handle it-” Each word is punctuated by you slamming down hard onto his swollen cock. Snug cunt massaging his veins as you pull up all the way - till his leaking tip is just kissing your sloppy hole, rocking your hips down hard at a punishing pace. “Look at you now, huh?”

You risk a glance into his eyes and oh- he liked it.

The great Gojo Satoru - revered like a God since birth - liked being treated like a mere fucktoy at your hands. Loved it even - if the way he twitched inside you was anything to go by it. Oh how you enjoyed being the one to bring him down to his knees.

Immediately, your hand reaches to grab the blindfold hanging haphazardly on his neck. “C’mon, Toru.” you warn, breaths ragged at the way his fat tip kissed your cervix. Tugging - hard - Gojo breath hitches in his throat as you whisper, “Jus’ give up.”

His pretty lips part slightly as you speed up your movements. Harsh, purposeful movements just to fuck his soul out.

“God, fuck- hah. Nah, more talk than walk, huh?”

Your hand tightens around the delicate blindfold, relishing in the wet little gurgles that leave him at the pressure around his throat. Balls squeezing painfully as you hypnotize him with your heavenly cunt. Alternating between agonizingly slow strokes and a sloppy, erratic bouncing - edging him closer and closer to the edge. Only to shatter his orgasm and his ego. Fuck.

“I know you want to cum, Toru.” your sweet voice snaps him out of his reverie, and Gojo stares up into your hazy, powerdrunk eyes. “Just admit defeat.”

“No.”

“Toru.” you start, sultry and dangerous. “Admit it.”

He shakes his head desperately, tears peeking out through those long lashes. “No.” he repeats, jaw clenched tight.

A hand wraps around his blindfold, pulling him impossibly closer, not even a hair’s breadth between your sticky bodies. “Admit defeat, Toru.” your lips ghosting his, nipping at his bottom lip. “Admit defeat, n’ I’ll make your cock cum hard enough to see stars.”

And finally, “I hah- a-admit defeat.”

“Louder.”

“I was wrong! Was wrong, m’girl. Lemme cum please lemme cum-”

Throwing his head back, Gojo’s hips buck wildly into yours as you let him bully his dick into you with reckless abandon. Over and over- Using you just as much as you were using him. Not even an ounce of the God he was raised to be.

And oh does Gojo see stars - and you do too. Because with a strangled gasp of your name, he’s painting your snug cunt white with thick, hot ropes of his cum.

Fucking his seed deeper and deeper, he fucks you through your high. Dazed blue eyes widening at the way your tight pussy was so overfilled, sticky seed dribbling out of you. The sight of you creaming around his cock has his balls twitching exhaustedly. Fuck it was all too much. Flimsy handcuffs shattering with one pull, Gojo mutters raggedly, words sending shivers down your spine, “My turn, baby.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

4K notes · View notes

colormepurplex2 · 3 days

Text

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⇾ (coming soon) ◅ 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⇾ (coming soon) ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-02-13 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

710 notes · View notes

nereidprinc3ss · 2 days

Text

drunk in love

in which fem!reader gets extra affectionate with spencer when she's drunk and he's just happy to be there

fluff! warnings/tags: drunk!reader, tooth-rottingly sweet fluff, spencer loves you so bad, short n sweet, that's it a/n: this is for the person who requested spencer taking care of drunk!reader and they're just being really cute and kissy and i lost your request i'm sorry but i hope you see this!! if you guys like this pls let me know, i have spencer helping drunk!r with a bath locked and loaded and its also so cute oh my god i love him goodnight

“Spence,” you say, voice pretty and airy as a song, pressing butterfly-light kisses with soft lips all over the side of his face.

“What?” he asks fondly, fighting to keep his grip on you secure as you keep trying to fall down and bring him with you. This bar isn’t necessarily a dive, but he’s sure the floor is still sticky and he’s not interested in checking.

“I really love you so much. I love you so much more than anyone else has ever loved anyone before.” It’s the fourth or fifth time you’ve told him you love him so much in ten minutes, but it doesn’t feel any less wonderful to hear. “Say it back!” you pout, settling against his chest.

“You didn’t give me time to say it back,” he explains patiently, looking down at you and brushing hair behind your ear. “I love you so much, too, baby.”

Suddenly you’re too flustered and shy to make eye contact.

“Call me that again.”

Spencer’s brow furrows. His smile flickers wider.

“What? Baby?” You nod into his chest. He smooths your hair. “I call you baby all the time.”

“Because you love me?”

“Because I love you,” he agrees solemnly.

You squeak, covering your face with your hands. Not for the first time tonight, he wonder what exactly was in those drinks Penelope kept ordering for you.

“Kiss?”

He gently grabs your wrists.

“You have to show me that pretty face if you want a kiss.”

Your hands slide down your cheeks and you tilt your head up. Now that your face is on display, pretty and shiny in the low lighting, Spencer ducks down and kisses you sweetly, one hand on the back of your head, the other pulling your wrists down and out of the way. He makes sure to not let it go on for too long. There are still plenty of people around, but more saliently, you are quite drunk.

“Good?” he asks, brushing a thumb over your cheek as he pulls away.

“Can we kiss forever?”

“We can try,” he muses.

“I love you,” you say again, plainly. “I wish there was a word stronger than love. I feel like I’ve said love so much it’s lost all its meaning.”

“Keep saying it,” he encourages. “I like hearing it.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whisper. Spencer leans down for you to cup your hand to his ear clandestinely. Sweet vanilla perfume still clings to your warm skin, lingering on your neck, mixing with the smell of fruity cocktails on your breath and making him dizzy. “I think JJ has a crush on you.”

He chuckles, straightening. Grieving the loss of your scent for just a second in the back of his mind—until you’re pressing against him anxiously, and it returns.

“JJ is married, babe. I don’t think so.”

You pout.

“No, but I really think she does! It makes me sad!”

Spencer doesn’t believe it for a second, but he knows hard logic and persuasion aren’t really going to do much for you right now. So he loops an arm around your waist and reigns you in.

“You don’t need to be sad, sweetheart. It doesn’t matter who has a crush on me because I have a crush on you.”

“Just me?” you ask anxiously.

“Just you. You’re the prettiest girl in the world. I have a huge crush on you.”

He realizes his voice has taken on that saccharine quality that Derek would give him shit for, and it’s probably visible in his eyes as he leans close to you, but he doesn’t care at all.

You raise your chin, wordlessly asking for another kiss. He delivers. The fabric of his shirt tugs where you grab onto it, attempting to bring him closer even when he draws away from the kiss. Of course he allows it, narrowly avoiding stepping on your toes as you pull him to you like a dog on a leash.

“Can we go home? I wanna cuddle.”

Oh, yeah. If Derek were present he’d have the most ridiculous, shit-eating grin on his face right now. Luckily he’s not here right now, and even if he were, Spencer would still brush your hair aside and say, absolutely we can go home and cuddle.

“Of course we can. Do you want to say goodbye to everyone?”

“Mm… can we Irish goodbye?”

He chuckles.

“I think you should say thank you to Penelope for buying you all of those ridiculous drinks that are making you so nice.”

You make a face.

“I’m always nice.”

“You’re not always this nice,” he reminds you with a small smile, resting his hands on your waist. You frown.

“In my head I am.”

He kisses your head. It’s impossible not to.

“I know. Come on, let’s say bye. I want to go home too.”

“You think I’m not usually nice?”

“Of course I don’t think that. I think you’re so nice.”

“Oh my god, can we get ice cream?” You gasp, already distracted and pulling him along by the hand as you weave through the sparse crowd.

He smiles to himself, happy to follow your lead as long as you don’t let go.

“We can definitely get ice cream. We can do whatever you want.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine

803 notes · View notes

momokarp · 3 days

Note

Please draw more of Michael.. God bless 🙏🙏🙏

I can and I will!!

I’ve actually had this WIP chilling for some time, please take this messy lineart Michael. Someday he may be finished!

#momoart #momoask #art wip #digital art #michael distortion #the magnus archives podcast #the magnus archives

421 notes · View notes

gazkamurocho · 3 days

Text

“The year is 1988. The young Goro Majima is a prisoner in Sotenbori and is forcefully working as the manager at the biggest and most successful cabaret in the city: The Grand.

During his captivity he discovers a way to momentarily forget his predicament. By freeing himself as ‘The Queen of The Night’, Goromi.

Together with his new-found love, Kazuma Kiryu, the two of them have fun and enjoy each other’s company as much as they can because their time together is limited and it’s almost coming to an end.

Kiryu will make sure to give Goromi and Majima a night they will never forget.”

It's finally here! The first look on the opening sequence of 80s Goromi doujinshi ❤ (title still in the works~)

More info about this project under the cut!

Different from my usual comic strips, this is a long doujinshi and the total page count will be something around 40~50 pages. Besides Kiryu and Majima, we will also have characters like Sagawa, Yuki-chan, Youda and the Sunshine Club girls making an appearance. The plot, script and scenes are all ready and I’m storyboarding and drawing the pages as I progress through the script!

This is also a R-18 adult doujinshi. There’s a lot of fluff, angst and fun interaction with the other characters but a good chunk (mostly half) of the comic will be dedicated to hentai (so rejoice you horny ones fdsjkfhdj). (For those who are curious about the spicy parts, it’s my established 80s Goromi and Y0 Kiryu’s dynamic: Goromi is the top and dominant one and, as a good and obedient boy, Kiryu will obey all of her orders and will do anything to please his queen. 👀 So basically, Goromi will destroy Kiryu dhsfksd)

I’ll be sharing the first 4 pages and then some random ones to the public, but after those, all new pages will be exclusive to my patrons on Patreon! I’m gradually posting over there WIPs, behind-the-scenes and new pages as I make them. I’ll always let you guys know on my social media when I post a new finished page on my Patreon!

I expect half a year or a year for the whole doujinshi to be finished. But the more support I have on Patreon, the faster I can make this doujinshi!

Once finished, I’ll make the complete doujinshi available for purchase in one of my online shops! Yes, this will be a paid comic. I’m pouring all my love for Kazumaji and 80s Goromi in this doujinshi but it also takes a lot of time and dedication to give life to this project so I hope you guys understand that decision. ❤ Of course, all the patrons who support the comic on Patreon will have the whole doujinshi available to them from the get-go.

It will first be available as a digital PDF but I’m also planning to release it in physical format down the road.

Making long comics has always been my true passion, ever since I was a little kid. And I also have other long adult doujinshi planned. If everything goes smoothly, this comic will be the first one of a series of Kazumaji doujinshis! ^^

202 notes · View notes

shanastoryteller · 10 hours

Note

Happy birthday!more female wei wuxian please

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

If Jiang Cheng is captured or killed, they'll kill Madame Yu and Uncle Jiang and Jiang Cheng. Jiang Yanli is an heir, but not one that can lead their people into battle, and they won’t bother keeping hostages for her benefit.

Wei Wuxian could do it – but with Jiang Cheng gone, she loses her place in the clan, she can't become the wife of their future sect leader if he’s dead. She’s the logical one to lose.

Jiang Cheng is going to kill her. But they’re getting too close to the inn.

She pays a boy to take the medicine and a note back to them in an hour’s time, then whistles, clear and bright cutting through the crowd. The Wen soldiers look at her and she’s hungry and tired but this is her clan’s life on the line here, her sister’s, her fiance’s. “Looking for me?”

There’ a moment of stillness then they’re surging forward and she’s running and they’re chasing and she’s very, very good but they’re fresh. She needs to go someplace they won’t follow.

They’re not too far from Yiling, she thinks.

Jiang Cheng is going to kill her.

He wants to go after her, but he doesn’t even know where she is, and that would mean leaving A-jie defenseless on her own, which he can’t do, and Wei Wuxian would never forgive him for doing anyway.

They set a punishing pace to Jin territory, which is where the disciples were instructed to meet up with them. A bit of gamble, but Wei Wuxian had pointed out that Jin Guangshan would likely be playing both sides of the war to his advantage, which is as close to neutral territory as they were going to get.

Once he delivers A-jie to the rest of their disciples, he can leave them to protect her and can leave her to organize them and he can go after Wei Wuxian. He thinks that three hostages is probably one too many – two too many, really, and he wonders how long it will be before his mother’s mouth gets her killed. If they do put her and Wei Wuxian together, that would move up that timetable exponentially.

Part of him is scared Wei Wuxian’s already dead. The rest of him knows better.

If she were dead, the Wen would be flaunting and bragging about. If they’d killed her, they’d be using it to draw him out, but so far there’s been nothing.

Of course, she ruins his plans like always because just when he’s getting ready to go out searching, she appears in the camp and grabs his shoulders and says, “You’ll never guess what I figured out!”

She’s been missing for almost three weeks and just as soon as he feels like he can breathe again he’s going to strangle her. “You!” he hisses and then he’s grabbing her, yanking her into his chest and holding her so tightly that she probably can’t breathe either, although for a different reason.

She’s hugging him back just as tightly, which makes him feel slightly less like he’s losing his mind. He pulls back and she’s wearing robes that she definitely stole and – “Why do you have a flute?”

Wei Wuxian beams, rocking back on her heels.

Most of Jiang Cheng’s relief drains to wariness.

That expression on her face has never meant anything good.

#prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #hessadvv #untamed

188 notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 1 day

Note

dare i say sarah w a strap and her and john b eiffel tower reader… 😣😇

𝜗ϱ. ꙳ 🦴 * ˙ ∘ 🤍 ˙ ۵ ꙳🪽

“oh my god it’s like i can feel you.” sarah moans as she pushes in to the hilt, your thighs trembling in pleasure from your arched position. the fuzzy headspace you’re swimming in is grounded by the warm, coarse hand of john b — patiently stroking the soft skin beneath your chin as he cups it, waiting for you to start suckling at him.

you mewl, letting sarah grind the strap deep inside you — finding her pace. in the mean time, you wrap a hand round john b, looking up at him sweetly with those unsure dolly eyes he’d grown to love.

“in your own time, pup. look at my girls, so pretty.” he croons, a hand coming to scratch behind your ear all whilst drawing your face closer. as you get accustomed to the rocking of sarah’s hips against yours, you drool on his shaft, licking up the sloppy trail you create.

sarah pants from exertion, her painted nails digging into the fat of your hips. “you were made for this. john b our — our girl is so special.” she praises and his grin only grows, not taking his eyes off the way you welcome his tip into your warm wet mouth.

“mhm. no complaints here.” he hums, low and deep and sarah giggles at the way you clench hard around the silicone.

“she likes when you speak. makes her pussy clench up.” she observes and you groan in hazy embarrassment, only for the boy to continue petting your cheeks as you suck on him.

“yeah? sweet girl just needs to be talked through it, huh?” he chimes and the continuous moan from you wittles into something higher and more desperate. the two share a knowing laugh at this, the blonde behind you smoothing a hand down your back.

“see?”

𝜗ϱ. ꙳ 🦴 * ˙ ∘ 🤍 ˙ ۵ ꙳🪽

#anon #john b x reader x sarah

297 notes · View notes

semischarmed · 1 day

Text

River

River was a walking enigma.

Instagram, TikTok, Facebook- hell, I even tried looking for a yearbook. Nothing. I had nothing on the guy. Like an illusion, he merely appeared, did his work diligently and then promptly vanished. In fact, his most common phrase around the office was a “Sorry, I can’t- busy.” His distance seemed to put some people off. That only made me want him more.

When Chelsea threw a quitting party, he dropped in, chatted for a few minutes and then left without saying goodbye- except to Chelsea. He wasn’t rude by any means. I’ve only ever seen the guy be polite. I personally found it quite hot. His mysteriousness brought an allure about him.

During another quitting party- a dinner for Mark this time, I tried to make conversation, asking him why he was named River. I actually asked the question in a few roundabout ways. Most I ever got was a “just what my parents named me- they thought I’d have brown hair”. I tried to pry for his hobbies, asked what he did for fun and he only responded with a “I watch baseball, go to the gym, watch TV. I guess”, before asking me about mine. The conversation was cordial, and probably a little boring, but I was captivated. This had been the closest I ever sat next to him.

My breathing quickened, ever so slightly, as I watched his shirt struggle to contain the form within. I traced the vascularity in his hands, the craftsmanship in the sculpt of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut when he would reach to grab a napkin. There was a full plate of food in front of me but I was only salivating at one thing.

The conditions were not ideal- but what choice did I have? The guy was like a ghost. I laughed a bit at the irony. I sat right across, trying to filter the scents and the sounds of food and camaraderie to focus on him. This would take all my brain power. I steadied my breathing and sharpened my focus, as I continued to answer and ask mundane questions about some work projects we both had. I started my work, mimicking every microexpression, every slight movement. I tailored every word from my mouth- even my delivery to slowly match his. This had to be subtle, of course- I’ve found out the hard way in the past how creepy this process could look in public if done too quickly.

River’s eyes blinked slower, like a haze was forming in his mind. I followed suit, weaving my slight impersonation in and out of our conversation. Like a pulse, I felt our movements begin to sync. Almost there. Now came the tough part, slowly drawing him out and isolating him without lo-

“C’mon, let’s all get shots- uh… River you ok bro?” Mark asked.

He shook off his daze, surprised at himself before laughing off the weirdness.

I was pissed the rest of the night, forcing myself to hide the permanent glare I would have worn for Mark.

As the night drew on, River left early- of course, and I continued on, staying a bit longer to wish Mark well in one final toast for the night.

That would be the last time in a while I’d be so close to him. The following drought was unbearable. For the next few months, no one quit. No big holidays were coming up, and our office wasn’t much for parties. Instead, I had to satiate myself with glances and the occasional short conversation.

= = = =

“Does that work for you two?” My boss asked. I nodded readily, eyeing River’s response. Another nod.

Fuck. I practically jumped when the boss said those words. A presentation. A presentation with River. A chance.

I think I deserved an Oscar for my acting in the few weeks after we were both tasked with the presentation. A wrong font here, corrupted save there, a missed chart. I “worked” tirelessly on the presentation with River, making sure to leave enough mistakes and gaps to drag the process out.

The guy was too polite, and I knew I had to use that against him. I ran the clock, watching the days progress into weeks and his brow furrow as stress deepened. Of course, I had to play my part, acting innocent at every step. A quick “sorry” for every mistake I planted was enough to ease suspicion. I even faked a confession about roommate drama causing my decline in performance. I thanked how private he was in that moment- I lived alone. Ever the hero, River was quick to take on the responsibility- even covering for me on few occasions. I knew I had to get inside this man.

Then came the day before the big presentation.

“I- uh… okay. Maybe we can finish this at my apartment,” He stated, clearly uncomfortable. I held back a moan.

= = = =

“You can set your stuff down there”.

It was a bit boring compared to what I expected. He was definitely put together at work, so it was a bit surprising to see some mess littering his apartment.

A few posters dotted the walls. Some basketball guy, I guess. An action movie. A generic college banner. His furniture boxy and grey, and the carpets running through the floors were in need of cleaning. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his kitchen was pristine, practically sparkling, aside from a small collection of protein powders and supplements.

“Uh.. sorry I don’t really have any snacks.”

He sheepishly opened the near-empty fridge and offered me a choice in drink. Some kind of pre-workout beverage and water. I took the water.

“Okay, I need to head to the gym for a bit. You still have a few slides you wanted to add, right?” A Hoodie-wearing, duffel-toting River asked. I nodded, trying not to look too eager and straining to keep my eyes from staring at his well-defined legs.

And then, there I was. Alone in River’s apartment. Alone with River’s apartment. I ran to his dirty laundry pile.

“Mmmphhhh” My eyes rolled back as I took the deepest inhale of my life. These were River’s boxer briefs. The same ones he had just worn. Doused in the scent of a day’s work. It was damp- guess River was a sweaty guy, though the long walk and couple flights of stairs to get to his apartment may have also been culprit. I was paralyzed in bliss, as I took in every note of his natural musk.

It reverberated deep in my chest as I continued to circulate every ounce of River I could inside me. The underwear was practically glued to my nose and mouth before I finally relented and drew them away, gasping for air. Exquisite.

My dick jumped at the sight of a single strand of his pubic hair, like flickering flame. A perverse smile planted itself on my face as I gingerly pulled my clothes off. I shivered as the cold, damp fabric that had just touched his bare flesh was now touching mine. I felt his hair on my flesh, now caked in his sweat. The elastic snapped around my waist as I released, a bit tight. My breaths fell shallow, ragged as I sat there basking in his cold embrace.

Next came the tank top. I mentally hit myself for not putting it on first, as it was a significantly less erotic experience. Still, as I slipped my arms through the holes that his once filled, my dick couldn’t help but twitch in approval.

I ran to his bed, gripped his sheets, and stifled another moan with his pillow. This man had, until today, been a full on mystery to me. And now, here I was- deep in the recesses of his apartment, nestled in the indent on his bed, buried in fabric stained with traces his scent and natural grime. I was drowning in the all aspects of his daily life. It was an intimacy with River previously unheard of and practically a miracle I hadn’t cummed yet.

The next few moments were sluggish, mind hazy and drunk in pleasure, as I wore my jacket and pants over the River clothes I had already had on me. I mentally thanked myself for wearing tighter clothing earlier today, as I felt them compress River’s undergarments tighter on my flesh. I walked back, sitting on the dining table and pretending to work.

A few minutes later, the door clicked open and a panting River waved. He no longer had a hoodie on and left nothing to imagination. I eyed the feast before me.

I fucking knew it. This kid was ripped.

I salivated as my eyes followed every contour of the body that would soon be mine. His flesh was flush and glistening with sweat.

“M-must have been some workout,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“Yeah, fucking kicked my ass today,” River said with a short laugh. My dick twitched. River never swore, never gave off a jockish vibe at work, but here he was, beaten tired and unable to contain his natural state behind a facade of politeness.

My lip quivered when his post-workout scent wafted into my nose. It was divine. True to his name, River had an earthy, deep musk about him. A delayed, almost sour afternote followed, the kind that clings to the nose. It riled me up, knowing this offensive, raw blast of testosterone had been working next to me for the past two years, hidden by layers of work clothes and pleasantries. River was cleaned, masked and sanitized for corporate America. And now I had a private showing to it. I was feral. I wanted-no, needed to be piloting this hunk for myself.

My trance was broken when River dropped to his couch, laughing slightly. This wasn’t his normal laugh- it dropped all pretense and I recoiled out of reflex, thinking back to that same laugh that emanated from the football jocks back in high school.

A lazy pair of eyes drifted up to meet me. “Sorry bro, just new a few minutes.”

I gulped. This was my chance. No need for precision, no need for focus. River was vulnerable. In any other circumstance, I’d be syncing to his movements, slowly, imperceptibly altering his as he would start following mine. Then I could pull him into my trance, lead him to a safe area as I continued the process. This was different. River served himself up on a platter for me, beaten to near immobility by his workout. No way was I gonna miss this. I stripped quickly, abandoning my original plan.

Without a word, I walked closer to him, grabbing his wrists.

“W-what are you”. In that instant, i jumped on top of him, allowing my body to follow the contours of his.

He grunted in defiance while I began to grind in pleasure. “Ughhh! Fuck bro. I can’t! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to be River!”

The process was quick- his drenched, energy drained flesh practically grabbed at mine, drawn by my own energy into itself. It was osmosis. I moaned as I saw the process start, and River’ meaty form encapsulate my own. His arms and legs splayed as he screamed at the intrusion. “What the fuck are you-“ He grunted in pain as he felt our two forms begin to meld. I laughed a perverted laugh, eyeing how deep I was inside him. His lack of energy had been his downfall.

I licked the inside of his head, feeling him shiver and whimper at the intrusion. I whispered venomously. “What am I doing?” I thrusted myself deeper into his muscled form, “I’m becoming River. I’m gonna wear you like a fine red suit.” I felt my facial muscles match his and pulled him into a smile he did not intend to make. “You boring prude. This body was built for sex. You’re starving this poor thing. I bet it’s backed up.” I whined in half-whispers. “Let me take you for a ride.” River moaned in horror, kicking his legs into the sofa in discomfort as his muscled back began to close over me. Possessing the ginger felt like a warm, dank hug. “You feel that?” I teased, this time his voice mimicking mine. He could no longer respond as it had become my mouthpiece. Instead, his head repeatedly slammed the sofa in resistance, forced to wear a smile that was not his own.

I laughed, feeling our combined chest heave in deep pleasure as I jammed my fingers deep into each bicep. I drilled into each arm, relishing in feeling his muscle fibers slip past me. Power. He shook as he tried in vain to resist my fingers filling into his. Putting on those vascular hands like well-fitted gloves. “Fuck yeah bro… that’s the stuff. Dominate me. Command me. Control my every move. My nerves are itching for their owner. Put this ginger meatsuit on…” I mock in his voice. Tears welled in my eyes, as I felt him continue to slam our slowly merging head into the sofa. I purse our lips before moaning further. “Wear my clothes…” My legs wove into his, twisting and binding into one. “Wear my personality…” the bottom half of our merged face laughs, while my new eyes blink away angered tears. I felt his memories begin to flow and surround mine. His rage and desperation flowed through me. The slamming slowed, coming to a complete halt as a reborn River’s eyes blinked into a lewd, sinful glee. “Wear my life.”

I stood up, piloting my new body towards the mirror. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” River’s outward defiance no longer showed over his perfect flesh but his mind was a raging storm. “Good.” His body lit in searing pain, sore muscle tendon and fiber forced to flex. I felt the storm calm as he was stunned. I myself winced slightly before my arousal imprinted itself through River’s face. This was my pain now. I could feel every fiber of his musculature tearing and repairing themselves. Building back stronger with the pre-workout mix he had drunken earlier. Building back with me embedded deep inside. Our leg wobbled in pain, before I slapped it back into submission, forcing it to flex. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff.”

I roared and patted my new chest and abs. “YEEAAAH!” Just one last piece of me was left. An intentional dessert I had left not internally bonded with River.

I let his normally stoic face relay the erotic pleasure I felt in wearing this flesh. I then pulled a “serious” face, bringing pained biceps into a flex. “We gotta live up to our name bro… gotta let the river flow”. A greedy tongue licked the dripping sweat hanging off ginger hairs of his armpit. I wanted to savor this. The tangy, salty nectar lingered in our shared tongue before I began to make out with my new reflection. With a grunt, I slammed River’s pelvis into the mirror, groaning as my growing hard-on began to fill into his dick. At first contact, I felt our senses mingle and the cold metal of the mirror. I grunted, trying to reign in the lust. With our linked sensitivity, I could feel my original body’s dick worming itself into my soon to be River-flavored cock. I thrusted my rod up, relishing in the soothing bare metal beneath the perverse cock and cock sleeve combination.

I grabbed at my new rod with one hand, while the other greedily dragged across my new body, feeling every new muscle and crevice and damp piece of the hunk. River thrashed inside me, disgusted at feeling his own flesh violate itself. At watching this new carnal entity that wore his face and name.

“S-someone’s gonna find out. Someone will fix this” He threatened in my mind.

“No bro… you’re the perfect host. No one at work knows a thing about you”. I cooed in his voice. “When we quit, when I take this thick ginger cock for a joy ride-“ tug “No one…” tug “No one will know.” I groaned as the last of his dick bonded to mine. We were complete. “I’m River now!” I shouted before devolving into whimpers of pleasure as I felt River’s warm seed stream out of me.

River’s softening, sore wood was forced back into full mast as I eyed the full extent of my- now his- depravity. Not wanting to waste a drop, I smeared my new lotion onto my new flesh, caking in layers of his drying sweat with layers of drying semen. I could only hear gagging in my mind as River was forced to taste his own produce. It’s my body now anyways, why shouldn’t it reek of sex and his natural musk?

#male possession #male merge #male corruption #male skinsuit

156 notes · View notes

nothingbutsweetwords · 3 days

Text

ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ꜱᴏɴ, ɴᴏʙᴏᴅʏ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ!ɴɪᴇᴄᴇ

"ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴏᴜᴛ ʟᴀᴛᴇʟʏ, ʏᴇᴀʜ, ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ..."

Word count: 3,800.

Fandom: House of the Dragon.

Pairing: Aemond x Reader!Velaryon!Niece.

MEETING - 1. Her.

Her legs, without any command and with an unstoppable determination, set off through the labyrinthine corridors of the red keep towards her mother's chambers long before the phrase fully reached her ears, the one she had so longed for: "The baby has been born, my princess."

Her family was her most loved treasure and when her mother announced the big news, time seemed to slow down. She couldn't wait to have that baby in her arms and cherish every second the gods, those she fervently prayed to, would allow her to spend with him.

Every night, in silent prayers, she repeated to any who would listen: "Please, let him be born healthy. Please, take care of my mother."

Rhaenyra painfully held in her heart the memory of her mother Aemma's early departure from the world. She wanted to shield her little ones from all fear and anguish, so she didn't dwell on details about that traumatic episode, one that, despite the years, remained as a deep and open wound. Unfortunately, she couldn't stop the whispers, those that seeped into her daughter's ears, creating such intense fear that she barely had room to breathe during those long nine months.

She felt a smile so wide it would ache her cheeks later and feet that weren't fast enough. Upon reaching the large wooden door, she took a few seconds to take a deep breath, calm her racing nerves, and finally push it open with determination.

Her entrance went unnoticed, as all eyes in the room were on the small human being now peacefully resting in her father's arms.

Except hers, no, those were on the woman sitting on the couch. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, her hair tousled and a tired expression adorned her face; yet never, in her short years on this earth, had she seen her so beautiful.

"Mother" she murmured almost voicelessly, taking her hands in hers and seeking her gaze. She felt her eyes sting, tears threatening to spill, and a lump forming in her throat. She wanted to speak again, but her voice got lost along the way. Fortunately, it wasn't necessary; Rhaenyra knew her as well as herself and could read her like an open book.

"My love, please, have no fear, we are okay" with those simple words, her lungs filled with air, swelling her chest. She let out a sigh, laden with relief, laden with love. She could only nod in response.

"Sister, look!" Jacaerys exclaimed, drawing her attention. He lifted the lid of the large steel chest, releasing steam and revealing a dragon egg.

"We choose an egg for the baby" Lucerys added.

"That looks like the perfect one, brothers" she said with a smile, though a bittersweet taste filled her mouth. Unlike her brothers, her own egg had never hatched, a disappointment she carried permanently with her, though she tried not to show it in these moments of happiness.

"I let Luke choose" he said, she messed up the younger one's hair and planted a kiss on his head.

"Thank you, Jace."

"Not every day an egg leaves the dragonpit, my princess, I thought it best to escort the lads" intervened Harwin Strong, adorned in his imposing armor and golden cloak. It didn't surprise her seeing him there; in fact, despite having a different last name, she considered him part of her family.

He was her protector, who always escorted her to her room, pampered her with luxurious books, and listened attentively to every word she said. She had more memories of him than of her own father, but she didn't complain; she knew he was a busy man. Harwin had tried to teach her the art of the sword, insisting on the importance of knowing how to defend herself, but she always found herself more interested in books. Besides, she had the feeling that he would never neglect watching her back.

"Laenor and I thank you, Commander" she heard her mother say.

"Father, may I see it?" she asked. Laenor knelt down, allowing the three of them to meet the new member of the family. It only took one look for him to completely captivate her. She mentally swore that nothing would ever harm him as long as she breathed. "What a fine knight you are going to make, eh?"

"Another boy, I heard" Harwin cleared his throat. "Might I?" he asked, seeking her mother's approval. She thought she saw a glimpse of the same relief that filled her eyes.

"Ser Harwin wishes to be introduced to Joffrey" she said, smiling. Upon hearing that name, her lips formed another smile. Of course, she would have been equally happy if it were a girl, but she was glad to still be the only one. It had its advantages.

"Of course" Laenor agreed. Rising, he gently placed Joffrey in Harwin's arms.

"Joffrey, is it?" her father nodded in agreement to the question.

"Mother, please may I hold Joffrey?" she asked excitedly, reaching out her arms towards him. A futile attempt, of course, the man in front of her easily doubled her height.

"No, mother, let me go first! I'm the strongest, I won't let him fall!" her twin brother vociferated.

"I won't let him fall either!" she countered.

Her younger brother joined in the pleas, arguing that he had the right because he was the youngest. Soon, the words melded into an indistinguishable uproar, as all three clamored in unison.

"No, no, no" her father hastened as Harwin turned his back to them, trying to prevent the disturbances from reaching the ears of the newborn.

"I think you left your septa waiting, my little lady, and back to the dragon pit for you two, before they send out a search party" he ushered the three younger ones out of the room, and gently pushed their shoulders, guiding them down the hallway. First, towards the room she had left only minutes ago, where her septa awaited along with Helaena, her mother's younger sister.

Her father left her at the door, and the expression on her face, the one she believed she was successfully hiding, betrayed her. Laenor crouched down to her height, gently taking her cheeks in his hands, making her look at him.

"You know, Leana had an egg that didn't hatch... and she didn't ride a dragon until she was five and ten. Now she rides Vhagar," he tried to cheer her up, "your time will come, dear daughter, I promise."

She was filled with hope at her father's promises. He always had the right words. She thanked the man she loved so much with a kiss on the cheek, and now with renewed energy, she entered the room.

Despite the repeated complaints from the septa, they remained on the floor; she leaned her back against the wall, while Helaena rested her head on her legs. She explored the pages of the book while playing with her hair, and when a passage caught her attention, she read it aloud to her aunt, who entertained herself by watching a long insect walk on her hands. They didn't share the same interests, not even could it be said that they understood each other, but they enjoyed each other's company and were grateful of having another princess of almost the same age as a confidante.

"This one has 60 rings and two pairs of legs on each. That's 240" remarked Helaena.

"Yes, you're right, I think... Did you know that Vhagar is 170 years old?" she responded, her eyes widening at the new information. "That's exceptional."

"The last ring doesn't have legs," Helaena pointed out, overlooking her niece, more interested in the insect "it has eyes, though I don't believe it can see."

She furrowed her brow. "Why is that so?"

"It's beyond our understanding."

She didn't know how much time they had spent in that position, but when she shifted her attention from the book due to noises approaching from the corridors, she noticed that the septa had already left and in her place was Alicent. The new companion was sitting a few meters away from them, holding a cup of tea and with her gaze lost in the window.

Suddenly, two king’s guards burst into the room, each holding one of Aemond's arms, alarming her.

"Your grace" they left without waiting for any response, closing the doors behind them.

"Aemond, what have you done?" Alicent approached him quickly, scrutinizing him, and exclaimed exasperatedly while gripping his shoulders firmly, "after how many times you’ve been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers?"

"They made me do it!" the young prince shouted in his defense.

"As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding" she furrowed her brow again upon noticing the same phrase that had come out of Helaena's mouth minutes ago.

Returning her attention to the argument in front of her, she noted that the prince's platinum hair and his green garments were stained black. Realization fell into her, she widened her eyes, astonished. Had he really ventured into the dragon pit? Alone?

"They gave me a pig!"

"A what?" the queen asked.

"They said they found a dragon for me, but it was a pig" detailed, his voice breaking slightly.

She knew Aegon and she knew her brothers, and even though she was certain the last two had only been pawns used in the prank, a mixture of anger and disappointment washed over her. How could they tease and deceive the good prince in such a way? Worse still, with something that was also the cause of her tears.

"If he wants one, he'll have to close one eye" the princess beside her said, her gaze still fixed on the tiny entity. She spoke loud enough for only her to hear.

Her words were puzzling, and she didn't know how to interpret them. They could either indicate that she was still in her little world or suggest something deeper; it wouldn't be the first time for either option. She had heard her say... things before; at first, they seemed like mere nonsensical words, and suddenly something happened, something that reminded her of her words, something that led her to believe that her aunt had some kind of magic. No one had paid much attention to her when she shared her theory, dismissing it with disdain, saying they were just coincidences. But to her, it seemed like more than mere chance connections.

"Everyone laughed" Aemond murmured, trying to hide his sadness. Her anger now replaced by deep empathy. Alicent wrapped her arms around him, stroking his back.

The prince looked just as distressed as he left the hug and walked away as he did when he entered. It reminded her of her own feelings of desolation and loneliness, and she thought that there was no one in the kingdom who could understand her like he did. Not really.

She always had a special connection with Jace, a twin connection, as they enjoyed calling it. They understood each other with just looks, laughed at the same jokes, and shared the same tastes, except for the obvious; he loved his sword, she preferred her books. On the other hand, Luke had always been her little and spoiled one, her sweet and innocent child. That's why the situation had affected her so much. She didn't believe her brothers had meant to hurt Aemond, but they did anyway. They were insensitive, and she didn't want to see them grow up like Aegon, who with his character showed that he didn't know the true meaning of consequences.

It had been a few days since the incident in the pit and the birth of her brother, who was under the care of Diana, her mother's lady-in-waiting.

She tried not to lift her gaze from her plate and ate in silence, ignoring her brothers, offering them only monosyllabic responses. She was furious and intended to make it obvious. She huffed in frustration, trying to get her mother's attention so she could bring up the issue to the table.

"My dear, what troubles your mind?" she heard her mother ask as she gave her arm a gentle squeeze.

"Mother, have you heard about the incident in the dragon pit?" noticing her mother's concerned and confused look, she hurried to reassure her, "no one is hurt... not physically, at least."

"What happened?" her mother looked inquisitively at her sons, their heads looking down, ashamed.

"Jace, Luke, and Aegon played a prank on Prince Aemond. They told him they had a dragon for him and gave him a pig with wings, they even named it! Pink Dread." The children couldn't contain their laughter at the memory, which only made her angrier.

"Is that true?" her mother asked, wiping the smile from both their faces. It wasn't common to hear her upset or see her with a serious expression.

"It was just a joke!" Jace tried to justify.

"Aegon planned it!" Luke interjected.

"I don't want to hear justifications" she silenced them. "What if that joke had been towards your sister? Would you still be laughing?"

"It's different" Jace muttered, while Luke's lip trembled in a pout.

"No, it's not. Tomorrow during training, you will offer the appropriate apologies. From the heart. Aemond is family, and we must look out for each other. Isn't that so?"

"Yes, mother" they chorused, serious and repentant.

"Now you may retire to your chambers and think about what you've done," their mother pronounced, and before they could respond, she added, "no complaints." They nodded and left in silence.

"I think Aemond could use some kind words, don't you agree?" Rhaenyra suggested minutes later, breaking the silence. She responded with a smile, thanking her for understanding the importance of this to her. "Who better than you to do it?" She rose from her seat and embraced her gently, for she could see her still in pain. She planted a kiss on her forehead, the kind she cherished so much.

"Rest, mother. I'll ask the maester to make you some tea."

She smiled after hearing her daughter, thinking that any pain felt and to be felt would be an insignificant price to pay considering all she had gained. Jace, the next heir to the throne, who would reign with peace and intelligence; Luke and Joffrey, who would be the greatest and most honorable knights; and her daughter, her eternal and sweet companion.

There was no need to ask questions; she knew where to find him. A few floors up was the library, her second room, her refuge, where the world became a little quieter and she could transport herself to other times, places and lives.

She ascended the long stairs quickly, and within minutes, she stood at the door. This hallway had always been one of the least traveled, practically deserted, except for them and the king’s guards. It seemed there weren't many avid readers in the keep.

They used to be at opposite ends of the table, immersed in each of their books. She had always wanted to talk to him, ask him what he was reading and maybe ask him to teach her High Valyrian. However, she never did; she had been too shy in his presence, and Aemond's distant form didn't help. Perhaps he was shy like her.

Or perhaps he simply didn't want to talk to her.

She tried to push those thoughts to the back of her mind as she entered the library. She smiled to herself when she saw she hadn't been wrong.

"Good morrow, uncle" she announced her arrival as she headed to the usual shelf and picked up the book she had left halfway through a few days ago.

"Good morrow, niece" he responded with his usual seriousness.

She walked to the table and hesitated. Should she sit closer to him this time? She didn't want to invade his space, but she also didn't believe that a conversation should start at a distance.

She arrived at the table before deciding and stood there for a few seconds. She ended up placing her book at the usual spot and sat down, feeling uncomfortable.

Why was she feeling this way? She wasn't the one who played a distasteful joke, besides, he was family; they had grown up together in the castle, it shouldn't be so difficult.

Suddenly, she felt warmth engulf her when she noticed Aemond looking at her, puzzled. With the book still closed, her cheeks turned red as she realized she had been staring at him all this time, lost in her thoughts. She mentally cursed herself and searched for the page she was on. He looked away, not saying a word.

Her mother had asked her to talk to him and she had really wanted to, so she didn't understand why she found it so hard to approach him.

She audibly sighed and abruptly closed her book. He did the same seconds later. As always.

It was curious; every time they were here, they seemed… united, connected in their readings; when she finished, he did too, shortly after. They put away their books, and he walked to the exit, hurriedly, and then held the door, patiently waiting for her to exit. They parted ways upon reaching the floor of their chambers, all without exchanging a word other than greetings or thanks.

The king and the queen did a good job with him and Helaena. She couldn't say the same about Aegon, unfortunately.

She knew it was only a matter of seconds before he got up from his chair, so she cleared her throat and, with her book in hand, marched towards him.

Aemond furrowed his brow; he didn't seem upset, rather bewildered by the new proximity when she took the seat to his right and opened her book again, an action he imitated seconds later.

She found it impossible to read; she observed the page, but the words blurred together as her mind was occupied with something else. How should she start? It was clear they had something in common. Two things, in fact. Long conversations weren't necessary to know it, so she ventured there.

She cleared her throat, trying to get his attention, without success. Then, timidly, she placed her hand on his, causing an immediate reaction.

He remained still, stunned by her movements. He just looked at her, with eyes wider than usual. It was then that she realized how different they were from the rest of their family. Her grandsire, her mother, Aegon, Helaena, they all had eyes as clear as the sky on a sunny day. But not him, his were darker, bluer, with a trace of purple in them. As deep as the sea, and as beautiful as a sapphire. His hair was straighter, platinum, and even softer, she would dare to say.

How she wished to have the Targaryen attributes, just as distinctive as they were beautiful. Another one of her biggest insecurities and sorrows. It wasn't uncommon for people to be surprised when they saw her and her siblings next to their parents, as they hadn't inherited such beauty. They were equally pale, but with a tumultuous mane, full of curls, of the darkest black and eyes sometimes green, sometimes brown.

Once again, she felt the red fill her cheeks, her gaze lost in him as her thoughts swirled.

"Do you know that my father's sister also had an unhatched egg? Just like us," she said, softly, looking him in the eyes and trying to comfort him, "now she's the rider of Vhagar, the oldest, largest, and most feared dragon in the entire kingdom."

She waited for a response that didn't come. "I like to believe that our wait will be rewarded, don't you?" then added. He only nodded, almost imperceptibly, without taking his eyes off hers, "I wanted to apologize."

Now with a confused look, Aemond finally decided to respond, "why?"

"They shouldn't have done it... It was cruel." Understanding dawned on him.

"No need to apologize for something that you did not do, niece." She couldn't help but smile at his words. Was he always so serious and formal? She thought he was like an adult trapped in the body of a little boy. An old soul.

"Can I ask you something?" she inquired.

"Yes, of course."

"Did you really enter the dragon pit? Alone?" she asked, curious. She noticed his face changing, a smirk of pride forming, his lips curling up into a small smile as he straightened up in his chair, now more upright.

"Yes, I did."

"Did you see any?"

"Yes, but it was too dark to know which one..." he began, with a spark in his eyes, and noticing her attentive gaze, he decided to continue "it throwed fire in my direction" he added, her eyes wider than before, conveying her astonishment.

"Gods! You must have been so terrified."

"Not really" he simply responded.

"That was... you're incredibly brave, my prince. I wouldn't have had the courage" she said and received a wide smile in return. She had never called him "my prince" before and she had never seen him smile.

She continued to listen attentively. No history book had ever excited her as much as the prince's adventures, and seeing him so enthusiastic about telling them filled her chest with something she didn't know how to name. Something warm. She liked it.

Despite it being their first real conversation, and the first time they looked each other in the eyes, there was a mutual understanding, a connection, different, special. One that went beyond being dragonless riders or relatives raised under the same roof.

It seemed to her that only a few minutes had passed when she felt a knock on the doors and a voice announcing that it was supper time and Alicent awaited for her son's presence. Both of them showed disappointment at the interruption; he seemed to have so much more to say and she hadn't had enough of his words. She thought she could listen to him for the rest of her days.

"Forgive me, niece, I must have tired your ears," he said before standing up, "and I didn't ask about your stories; you must think me rude." His words elicited a laugh from her lips, as it couldn't be further from the truth.

"Not at all, I would have liked to keep listening to you. Besides, I don't have stories as brave as yours, and I wouldn't want to bore you to exhaustion" she replied.

Once they had put the books back in their place, they walked to the door.

"I do not think that's possible" Aemond communicated with his hand on the doorknob. There was silence as they descended the stairs with the guards behind them.

"Goodnight, my princess" he said once they reached the floor, calling her that way for the first time.

"Goodnight, my prince."

"Perhaps tomorrow we could... continue?" It came out almost as a whisper from Aemond's lips. A smile on hers.

"Nothing would make me happier."

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #house of the dragon #house targaryen #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen fluff

151 notes · View notes