#damn it anon you made me cry | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

leclerc-hs · 4 months

Text

capsize - cl16

pairing: charles leclerc x nanny!reader summary: in which charles is an idiot and you decide to make him suffer for a little bit warnings: smut, angst!, exhibitionism (kinda?), breeding kink!, language, 18+!, bad french!!! (please correct me and i'll edit), barely proofread (sorry if there’s mistakes my eyeballs hurt) word count: 5.9k (LENGTHYYYYY) author's note: had to give us some angst obvi....but also smut bc single dad charles is so hot. let me know what you think! I can't believe it ended up being this long but it felt like it was impossible to end. xoxo. please blow this up bc the effort I put into writing this took 100% of my brain power away lmao. also I got an anon request to write about nanny getting a internship with a fashion company which is included in this! french edits made by the lovely @dannyramirezwife (idk what I would do without you)

part 1 part 2

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

yourusername

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 52,789 others yourusername welcome to miami 🐚🧡 view all 1,321 comments yourbsf but how do you kill it every time??? landonorris mmmm papaya looks good on you🍊 charles_leclerc how do I dislike a comment? liked by yourusername and 7,829 others yourusername 😂 user guys omg. user charles is NOT having it charles_leclerc beautiful. but please stick to red ❤️ user CRYING user lando is def on his shit list user lando wants her so bad lmaoooo

yourusername

liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 78,992 others yourusername luigi follows only the ferraris 🏎️🏁 view all 4,391 comments scuderiaferrari as you should! ❤️ user OMG SHES IN MIAMI!!!! user does this mean his daughter is there!!!! user i would hope. unless she's not doing her job lol user we need baby leclerc content!!! charles_leclerc damn right ❤️ yourbsf miami looks gooood on u. wanna move? yourusername 😏 charles_leclerc absolutely not user charles gtfooooo user what does charles just stalk her comments?

charles_leclerc

liked by scuderiaferrari, yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 1,582,817 others charles_leclerc special guests this weekend ❤️ we’ll keep pushing as always. view all 5,717 comments scuderiaferrari the most precious guests EVER user literally. user guys he’s using plurals again!!! user it has to be about @/yourusername too user crying they’re so cute carlossainz55 can’t wait for her to design my next helmet 🌶️ charles_leclerc OUR* yourusername sweet baby girllllll 🩷🧸🎀

lando.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 274,892 others lando.jpg mrs. 305 tagged yourusername view all 3,672 comments user omg. user are her and lando dating? user i hope not user they would be so cute carlossainz55 damnnnnn 🌶️🥵 lando.jpg don't poke the bear @/charles_leclerc charles_leclerc 😒 yourusername don’t ever let me take another tequila shot again lando.jpg should i cancel the ones i just ordered to your room? yourusername you BETTER be joking charles_leclerc is that why i opened the door to shots? charles_leclerc mon dieu user no like she's so pretty user they're sharing a room!??? landonorris tagged yourusername in a story!

seen by charles_leclerc, yourbsf, carlossainz55, and 900,281 others yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, and 65,428 others yourusername who let lando behind the dj booth last night???? tagged landonorris view all 2,318 comments maxfewtrell he’s such a 🐍 user omg her and lando?? user lando has been in love with her for so long user can we just take in that charles didn’t like this post? user charles has a habit of not liking any of her posts with other men 👀 user ariana what are u doing here user where is charles?? user prob with his daughter bc she clearly isn't lol user it's HIS daughter landonorris i'm so lucky user WHAT!!!!!!! user GUYS HELP user IS HE CONFIRMING?!!!? yourusername you need to stop trolling the internet lando user DJ LANDOOOOO HAS RETURNED

YOU BEGIN TO wonder whether the universe harbors some inexplicable grudge against you. Because really, you always make sure to check in on your friends often. You always make sure to pay your bills on time, if not earlier. Heck, you even make sure to donate to a different charity every month. Yet, as the jet encounters heavily turbulent skies on the way to Miami, the persistent question echoes in your mind ‘why me?’.

Luckily, a bundle of joy rests on your lap, cupping your face in her hands, and playfully squeezing your cheeks. A sweet distraction from the terror you feel inside. It’s adorable how earnestly she tries to impact calmness in you, even though her eyes are half shut with sleep.

“Ne sois pas effrayé,” Don’t be scared. Her voice maintains its gentleness as she swiftly loses interest in your cheeks, redirecting her tiny hands to play with the ends of your hair. “Je suis là avec papa.” Me and papa are here.

“Chérie,” Charles coos at his daughter, picking her up from your lap and resting her down on the bed. “Repose-toi bien," Get some rest. He tucks her into the bed, a space far too vast for her tiny body, nestling her favorite fluffy bunny stuffed animal by her side. You observe in admiration as he plants a gentle kiss to her forehead, then tenderly strokes her hair in a soothing manner.

“J’ai besoin qu’elle me borde, papa,” I need her to tuck me in. Her tiny fingers point to you and your heart instantly tightens. With a slight shake in your steps, you make your way to the bed, sitting on the side of it. “Bonne nuit, ma petite.” Goodnight, little one.

“Bonne nuit, maman,” Goodnight, mom. The words were mumbled with sleep, but it was the name that couldn’t be ignored.

For a brief period, both you and Charles experienced a suspended moment, a pause in time. Never had she referred to you in such a way, and you certainly didn’t want Charles to assume you influenced her perception in any manner.

“I don’t know why she said that.”

Caught like a deer in headlights, you pivot your head to face him. Panic courses through you, eyes widened, heart pounding. Yet, as you turn to Charles, he appears nonchalant, offering only a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“C’est bien.” It’s okay.

In a hushed pause, the both of you remain motionless aside from turning your head back to the sleeping toddler, entranced by how peaceful she looks. However, Charles finds it hard to divert his gaze from you. His eyes focus on the serene scene of his daughter’s fingers delicately entwined with yours, even in the depths of sleep, acknowledging the profound connection between you two. In these tranquil moments, where your presence is indispensable for tucking her in, Charles not only appreciates the nurturing care you offer but also recognizes the profound love and solace you impact. He can’t help but feel incredibly fortunate to have you in his life.

Only when Charles’s gentle hands tenderly squeezed the back of your neck, providing a subtle massage to your tense muscles, did you become acutely aware of the extent of your own exhaustion.

“Allez, dormons un peu, d’accord?” Let’s get some sleep, yeah? His lips delicately brushed against the shell of your ear, followed by a tender kiss on your temple, guiding you toward the other bed on the jet. Wrapping his arms snugly around your body, he let the both of you fall onto the mattress. While pulling the covers over both of you, your face pressed against his chest clad in a soft t-shirt. As you planted a gentle kiss above the neckline, you could feel the rapid rhythm of his heartbeat.

Despite the passing of a few months since that initial kiss, your connection with Charles retained a serene simplicity. In the quietude of your shared moments, you found solace. Deliberately, you resisted the temptation to let your mind drift into the what if’s, choosing instead to remain in the present moments.

However, within his mind, thoughts raced at a million miles a minute. Regardless of the casualness of your relationship you both claim to have, he couldn’t stop picturing you with swollen breasts and a swollen belly. The moment his daughter called you ‘maman’, an almost feral instinct surged within him. It was a wild and untamable force. He couldn’t stop imagining you pregnant. Full of his kid. Full of him. The need to fill you up with all of him was all but surging through his veins. All the blood was rushing to his cock, and he knew he needed to get these thoughts out of his head.

“Bonne nuit,” Goodnight. His voice sounded so rough as his arms tightened around you and you easily fell into a quick slumber, feeling so safe in his arms from the turbulent skies.

The abrupt touchdown of the jet resonated through the cabin, rousing you from slumber. A ballet of movement ensued before your eyes met the scene: Charles had migrated to one of the plush seats, his daughter perched upon his knee. The ambient hum of the aircraft formed a backdrop to the unfolding familial vignette, a delicate interplay of affection. As Charles tenderly pinched his daughter’s cheeks, childlike laughter following their hushed whispers.

Charles shifted his gaze towards you, now upright on the bed. Your tousled hair framed a face adorned with the lingering softness of sleep, and your eyes, slightly puffy with remnant of slumber, held a captivating allure. Despite your disheveled state, he couldn’t help but find that you remained the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“Bien dormi?” Sleep well?

A gentle smile played on your lips as you rose from the bed, indulging in a languorous stretch that showcased the contours of your body. The fabric of the t-shirt clung momentarily, revealing the subtle canvas of freckles adorning your stomach to Charles. His gaze involuntarily flicked away, a reflex triggered by the flooding memories, thoughts of you pregnant resurfacing in vivid detail. The mere glimpse of your stomach had him internally spiraling.

“Uncle Lorenzo and Auntie Char want to see you bébé,” baby. A ripple of excitement danced in his daughter’s eyes as she clapped her hands joyfully at the mere mention of her uncle. Lorenzo and Charlotte had made their way to Miami a few days prior, cleverly disguising their visit as an opportunity to vacation while supporting Charles in the impending race. This strategic maneuver afforded you and Charles the luxury of solitude in the days leading up to the event, a rare and treasured gift compared to the last few months.

“Merde,” Shit. He grunted as his head fell back against the headboard of the shared bed. His green eyes watching you with flushed cheeks as you worked yourself over his cock. “This is where you belong, yeah?”

The morning sun peeked through the curtains of the hotel room. Eliciting a warm glow in the hotel room as you sunk down onto him deeper than before. Your pussy fluttering around his length, appeasing the ache that he created before you even opened your eyes.

You nodded your head repeatedly. “Mon dieu, yes.”

His hands cup your ass, fingers pressing firmly into the delicate layers of your skin, leaving an imprint as if searching for a connection beneath the surface. Controlling your movements, he urges you to move more frantically. The feeling of your hot, wet, pussy squeezing him was almost too much for him to handle.

With each passing second, the pressure of his fingers increased, creating a sensation of both command and invitation at the back of your neck. His touch was a deliberate grasp, not just holding but asserting dominance. Your lips met in a symphony of desire. His tongue slipping into your mouth instantly, brushing against yours as he held you against him. Your nipples flushed against the toned muscles of his chest as you leaned in, and the pound of his hips fucking upwards into you, had you all but mewling into his mouth.

“C’mon mon ange, don’t make me wait.” My angel.

You’re not sure if it was the pet name or the fact that you loved to please him. Or maybe the brush of his body against your clit. But your orgasm came quickly after while the tears spilled slowly from your eyes. He swallowed every moan you gave him like it was his own source of oxygen before flipping both of you over and pushing you face first into the mattress.

Every moan you gave him was like fuel to the pound of his hips. He was completely lost in the feeling of you. “Take it all,” he grunted as he pushed your body into the mattress deeper than before, his eyes not moving from the sight of his cock coated with you and slipping into you.

You were begging and pleading him to give you more, more, more. You don’t know what more he could give you; you just knew you needed it.

“So pretty like this,” he muttered, “like you were made just to take my fucking cock whenever I need.” His thrusts began to slow, but the speed didn’t alter just how good they felt. No, he pushed himself even further, hitting all the spots just right. It was as if he was trying to become one with you. Like he wanted merge you two into a singular existence.

“Cha,” You moaned out his name and you couldn’t see but his eyes widened. His heart clenched at the nickname. He pulled out quickly, provoking a complaint from your lips as he began scooping one of his arms under your stomach and flipping you onto your back. He took a second to just look at you, a shine forming in his eyes as he observed you. You look absolutely fucked. Cheeks flushed, hair all over the place, eyes glossed with satiation, and red marks all over your neck from his fingertips.

“Needed to see your face,” he answered before you could ask, slipping his cock back into your needy hole. The confession making your heart clench and the stretch of his cock had your stomach doing flips. “Besoin de voir tes yeux.” Needed to see your eyes.

His gaze was unwavering and fixed upon you. It was as if sought to etch the intricate details of your face into the canvas of his memory. He wanted to capture every nuance, every curve, and every expression that you made.

“Merde, let me cum in you.” His eyes trailed down your face, to your neck, to your breasts. The bounce of your breasts from the force of his hips had him in a trance, thoughts of you with swollen breasts came back to mind. When he felt your pussy clench around him at the phrase, a smirk formed. “Yeah? Want me to fill you up sweet girl?

“S’il ti plaît,” please. You were pleading. You wanted nothing more. “J’en ai besoin.” I need it.

Charles’s eyes almost rolled to the back of his head at your confession. His groaning and grunting increasing in volume as he pounds into you harder, every inch of his cock pressing against your velvet walls as he releases into you, making you feel all warm inside.

“Tu es parfaite.” You’re perfect. He collapses beside you; his voice was so low that you almost didn’t hear him mumble the words as he pressed his lips to your collarbone before resting his head on the pillows. You felt your cheeks redden almost instantly, brushing off the compliment with a smile and small laugh.

“Je dois prendre une douche.” I need to shower. The mixture of his and yours cum was oozing down your leg. You could still feel the warmth of it. Charles mumbled a soft “mmmm”, already drifting off into a slumber.

You weren’t sure what changed in the few minutes you were in the bathroom, but you could feel the unease build in your stomach as you emerged with a towel wrapped around your frame and skin flushed red from the heat of the water to Charles pacing around the room, a knuckle in between his teeth.

He was agitated to say the least. He felt betrayed by you.

A subtle smile played on Charles’s lips as the sound of the shower resonated in the room, accompanied by your soft hum of a song he couldn’t name. The ambiance of the hotel room cocooned him in a profound sense of peace, and in that moment, he wished he could stay here eternally with you. Kissing you, touching you, inside of you.

When he heard the buzzing of a phone on the table beside the bed, he instinctively reached for it without glancing at the screen, presuming it to be his own. Given the context of it being a race weekend, early morning phone calls were expected.

“Bonjour?” Hello? He let out a cough, clearing his throat from the sound of sleep and satiated desire. The subtle rasp carried with it the traces of his happiness.

“Ah bonjour, hello, this is Camille with Christian Dior.” The woman’s voice echoes into Charles’ ear. He sits up immediately, back against the headboard. His first thought was ‘why is Christian Dior calling me?’ but it wasn’t that abnormal either. Companies reached out to him all the time for collaborations. “I am calling regarding the application we received for the internship and wanted to schedule and in-person meeting.”

Charles felt his stomach twist in knots as he listened to Camille chatter into the phone. Application? Internship? Moving the phone from his ear, he looked at the phone realizing that it was in fact yours and not his. This call was for you, not him. Camille’s voice was muffled as it was pulled away from his ear.

A wave of nausea coursed through Charles, the unexpected revelation at the possibility of you leaving hitting him hard. How could you just apply for another job like that? He felt himself growing antsy and restless as thoughts swirled in his head. Camille, who was confused by the silence, mumbled something about calling back later due to the lack of response from Charles.

He dropped the phone onto the duvet of the bed, standing up and pacing the room while he felt himself begin to question everything. Questioning why you would leave. Does he not give you enough? Was it too much to handle? As his thoughts droned on, taking a turn for the worse, he began to feel angry. Angry that you considered leaving this job. He began to see red.

“Qu’est-ce qui ne va pas?” What’s wrong? You were cautious, not standing too close to him to give him some space. His head whipped in your direction almost too quickly.

Your attention was drawn to the wrinkle lines etched on Charles’s forehead, marking the aftermath of his furrowed eyebrows. The subtle creases and wrinkles, usually absent in is carefree demeanor, painted you a picture of his current inner turmoil. When you shifted your gaze to meet with his narrowed eyes, the cautious padding of your bare feet seemed to echo.

It was an unfamiliar sight to witness Charles engulfed in such a storm of emotions. The stark contrast to his usual carefree and joyful demeanor. He was blinded by his rage as he muttered the next words.

“Es-tu idiote?” Are you stupid? His jaw was clenched. A soft gasp left your lips as you clutched tighter onto the top of your towel, feeling rather exposed now. “Demande à Christian Dior.” Ask Christian Dior. His spat out the name Christian Dior with such disdain. As if it were dirt on the bottom of his shoe.

Your eyes widened, everything clicking. You weren’t sure how he knew, but he was answering your internal thoughts before words could form on your tongue.

“Ils t’ont appelé. J’ai répondu par erreur.” They called you. I answered by mistake. He let out a loud sigh as he leaned against the dresser across from the end of the bed, his forearms flexing as he gripped onto it tightly. You noticed the definition of his muscles and veins forming on his arms. He was squeezing the dresser, trying to gain some relief from such anger swirling within him.

At first, you wanted to argue him for answering your phone. But you knew him. You knew he wasn’t snooping. He said it was a mistake, so you took his word for it.

“Qu’ont-ils dit?” What did they say? You weren’t sure how to approach this conversation with him. You especially were not expecting it to go this way, with you wrapped in only a cotton towel.

His eyes narrowed to an almost imperceptible slit, the vibrant green drained from any warmth of presence. “Are you serious?” The exasperation in his voice reverberated through the room. Your question seemed to strike a nerve, leaving him incredulous. Was that all you had to say? The absence of an explanation hung in the air, adding more tension to the charged atmosphere between you two.

“Ne me crie pas dessus.” Don’t yell at me. You felt your own anger building at his attitude. Who did he think he was? You padded back to your suitcase, grabbing whatever outfit you could without paying attention. You weren’t sure what you even grabbed or if it even matched, but you didn’t care. You were too busy listening to Charles raise his voice.

“Don’t walk away from me.” He pushed off the dresser, trailing behind you. “What is this internship you applied for?”

You didn’t answer right away, instilling more anger within Charles. “Answer me. You’re just going to leave like always?” His tone struck you with disbelief, the harshness leaving an unexpected sting. The air was too intense. You needed to get some air.

Like always?

You turned and faced him. “Are you asking me as my boss or my fuck buddy?” You knew it was a low blow, but it was so unfair for him to be this mean to you. It wasn’t even necessarily his words but his tone that bothered you most. He spoke to you as if you were a child who needed punishing.

You had a shirt half-way over your head and black leggings on. “It’s just a summer internship. I didn’t even do the interview yet, but you seem to know that already.” You waved him off, rushing around the room to get your stuff. You needed to get out of here. You weren’t going to sit here and let him berate you.

“You can’t just leave.” He followed you to the door, gripping your wrist to pull you back towards him. You yanked your arm out of his grip.

“You’re just like everyone else.” His words tumbled out incoherently, much like uncontrollable word vomit. He could feel the panic rising in him as you made your way towards the door. “Right. Use me and then leave. It’s all I’m good for.”

His words twisted your stomach, and you chose to overlook the burning ache in your heart.

“Fine. Just go fuck your ex-boyfriend or something. Or Lando. I know he wants you.” He stood there, chest heaving up and down with his heavy breaths. You pulled the door open, standing in the frame, you took one last glance at him.

“Va te faire foutre.” Go fuck yourself. And with that you were out the door.

“Je n’arrive pas à le croire!” I can’t believe him! “C’est vraiment un connard.” He’s really such an asshole.

“Babes, you’re g’na need to speak in English for me to understand,” he laughed before taking a sip of his beer, “you muppet.”

You playfully rolled your eyes at Lando, seated across from you in the elegant ambiance of the hotel restaurant. Adorned in a snug black dress, every curve of your figure accentuated, the crystal jewels meticulously tracing the contours of your breasts. The garment displayed a subtle dip between your cleavage, adding an enthralling touch. It was safe to say you looked fucking good. Or as Lando said, “holy fucking shit, you took the air out of my lungs.” Which in response, you couldn’t resist a playful shove to his shoulder.

In the aftermath of the argument with Charles, you found yourself in the company of Lando, driven partly by Charles’s mention of him. Despite the strained circumstances, your connection with Lando remained strictly platonic. However, Lando’s penchant for flirting was a constant, adding a playful dynamic that colored your friendship. Thankfully for Lando, he was the reason you were able to even get a change of clothes seeing as you left the hotel room earlier in complete disarray. It was still your day off, one that was originally supposed to be spent with Charles. Lorenzo and Charlotte were still taking care of Charles’s daughter, leaving your night wide open.

“Martin’s driver is picking us up soon,” Lando declared, drowning the remainder of his beer and emphatically slamming the bottle onto the table. There was still two more days before the race weekend began, meaning Lando wanted to go out to which you agreed easily. Meanwhile, you maintained a composed sip from your glass of wine. With a playful glint in his eye, Lando added, “Get your dance moves ready muppet.” The prospect of the evening ahead seemed to carry a promise of lively escapades.

Your laughter echoed, creating a buoyant atmosphere as you seamlessly fell into a comfortable conversation with Lando. His easy-going nature and banter helped soothe the lingering nerves from the earlier argument with Charles. In that moment, you felt nothing but gratitude for Lando’s presence.

The vibrant lights of the club painted the atmosphere in a kaleidoscope of colors, while the unmistakable scent of alcohol lingered in the air. The club pulsated with energy of the intoxicated crowd, bodies swaying to the vibrations of music surrounding them. It wasn’t until you reached the DJ booth that you felt a wave of reassurance wash over you.

The night unfolded with a multitude of shots, some in which you had to pretend to take, just to save yourself from vomiting on the floor. The music provided a lively group, thus creating a joyous atmosphere. You surrendered to the rhythm, dancing through the hours, deliberately steering clear of thoughts about the brunette Monegasque who typically occupied your mind.

As you slid out of the booth, making your way to the bathroom, you finally pulled your phone out of your purse. The screen was littered with missed calls and multiple messages, most from nonetheless Charles.

from Charles (dilf) Where are you? 18:45 You’re such a brat. 19:19 Really? You’re with Lando? 22:47 Could your dress be any fucking shorter? 22:51 Tu essaies de me tuer 01:27 You’re really testing my patience 01:46

You didn’t answer. Feeling triumphant as you snickered to yourself at his messages, him clearly struggling with the concept of you being out with Lando. Slipping the phone back into your purse, you continued your night, leaving all worries behind. Because if you didn’t, the mere reality of the argument with Charles would have you vomiting on the floor.

It was honestly insane how the sun was just beginning to rise. Yet, you and Lando were just stepping foot into the hotel not even a few minutes ago, drunken laughter between you both as you exited the elevator to Lando's floor. No doubt, pictures of you and Lando surfacing all over the internet tonight. But you weren’t worried about that. What you were worried about was the angry brunette standing outside of Lando’s hotel room door, his arms crossed, and eyes tired as if he didn’t sleep the entire night.

You and Lando both sobered up quickly from the sight of him, brooding in front of the hotel door. Charles opened his mouth, utilizing both of your native tongue to exclude Lando from the conversation.

“Tu es putain de sérieuse?” Are you fucking serious? The harsh tone he used drew you back to the argument that had occurred earlier in the day. Or should you say yesterday?

“Que fais-tu ici?” What are you doing here?

He rolled his eyes, teeth gritting as he looked over to Lando smiling beside you with his hotel room key in hand. “Muppet, are you sleeping over, or no? I’m tired.”

Charles didn’t afford you a moment to respond before swiftly shutting him down. The gaze he directed at Lando carried a lethal intensity, a silent warning that spoke volumes. “Absolutely fucking not.” Charles’s grip tightened on your arm, an assertive pull guiding you down the hallway toward the elevator. Surprisingly, you didn’t resist, allowing the momentum to carry you forward. You looked back at Lando who had a smirk on his face and winked at you. What a fucker.

The elevator enveloped you both in an oppressive silence, interrupted only by rhythmic beeping accompanying each floor you ascended. Charles maintained a deliberate gap between you, yet his hand remained firmly clasped around your wrist. In the mirrored surface of the doors, your eyes locked onto each other, breaths syncing. As the doors finally opened, Charles propelled you out with a gentle push, his body behind yours.

It wasn’t until you both stepped into the hotel room that Charles unleashed a torrent of emotions upon you. His voice, thick with a mixture of anger, jealousy, hurt, and worry, carried the weight of the pent-up emotions he had been harboring. He had seen the stories, the posts, and even the photos of you at dinner, images captured by fans.

The way you smiled at Lando in the pictures had him throwing his phone. And don’t even get him started on the dress. The fucking dress.

“Do you like Lando?” He sneered, jealousy bubbling inside of his chest.

And because you felt like stirring the pot even more, you smirked. “Yes.” And although it was the truth, it wasn’t what Charles thought. You felt bad as you saw his face fall, but he deserved it just for a little bit at the very least.

You could feel all the thoughts racing through Charles head before he pulled you both towards the balcony, staring at the city skyline instead of at you. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his voice thickening with emotion, “What about me? What about us?”

“As a friend.” You finally announced, turning your body to fully face Charles. “I like Lando as a friend, Cha.” You confirmed, a groan leaving your lips. “Do we have to do this right now? I’m so tired and my feet hurt.”

“Oui.” Allowing no room for further complaints, Charles pulled you into an embrace, his arms enveloping you and effectively trapping you between the warmth of his body and the balcony railing. He nestled his head in the crook of your neck, finding a moment of relief in the reassurance that you were back, and in his arms. The tight hold on you spoke of relief.

“You’re mine,” He states. “Label or no label.” He's possessive in the way he speaks and touches you. Like he needs to get his point across. You feel him laugh as his fingers trail around your front side, trailing down until he can slip them up the front of your dress, pressing his fingers to your lace covered core. It was almost too easy. The dress was so short.

The desperate ache in the pit of your tummy grows with each swipe of his thumb along your covered clit. You began to forget why you were even fighting in the first place, his hands on you felt too good. You lulled your head back against him, making more room for his lips to attack on your neck.

Your ability to articulate words faltered, your legs turning to jell-o under his embrace. With one arm securely wrapped around your waist, he became your anchor, ensuring that you remained standing.

“You want my fingers?” His lips are hot on your ear. He slips his fingers beneath your underwear, feeling just how wet you really are. It was almost too easy. “So fucking wet and warm, mmm.” He groans as he slips one finger inside of you, moving it so slowly that you began to get frustrated with the pace. Your hips rut, trying to speed up his fingers, but he holds you in place removing your ability to move.

Your body begins to tremble as he increases the pace of his finger, inserting another one and curling it, hitting the spot you ached most. You want to cum so badly; you want to soak his fingers and tremble around them. “So greedy.” He takes your ear lobe in between his teeth, nibbling gently on it before trailing his tongue down the rest of your neck. “Taking my fingers so well.”

You groaned, his words pushing you towards your climax quicker than anticipated. He could tell you close with the way you were squeezing his fingers so tightly, and the way your words were almost incoherent. As soon as your arm reached back, your fingers brushing through his hair, he pulled his fingers out of you.

“No!” You half-shrieked at the loss of contact, pulling his hair in the process. Your face blushed and eyebrows furrowed from the loss of his fingers.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He flips your body around, your back flush against the balcony railing now. The breeze continues to blow your hair around, no doubt making a mess of it.

“You tell me you’re mine.” You bite back, refusing to say it first. Charles began laughing, it reverberated in his chest.

“Oh, mon ange.” He ignores what you say, trailing his eyes down your body. “This fucking dress.” His words are sharp as he begins gripping the ends of your dress and shoving it upwards, exposing you completely to him now. He placed a quick slap of his finger tips to your clit, the shock and sting of the slap turning you on more than you could imagine.

He pulls you forward, hands squeezing your neck, the area right under your jaw line to be more specific, lips immediately pressing against yours. There was nothing gentle about this kiss. It was hot, messy, and wet. A clashing of teeth and tongue as he sucked on your tongue. Leaving you almost no room to breathe in the process. But you didn’t mind, his kisses were intoxicating.

The firm presence of Charles’s hand on your neck persisted, the subtle pressure from the pads of his fingers inducing a dizzying effect. It was a tactile reminder of his control, a touch that left your head spinning, and wanting more. “I’ve always been yours.” He doesn’t let you respond before he’s pulling your lips back to his. This time, his fingers slip back into your heated core, assaulting and curling them just how you needed them. You breathed hotly into his mouth as your orgasm crashed over you. It was quick and hot. Charles could’ve sworn he was going to cum right in his pants at the feeling of you squeezing his fingers, coating them in you. He’s never been more jealous of his fingers in his life.

He flips you around again, fumbling with the button of his pants as he shoves them down, them falling to a pile around his ankles. He wasn’t slow, rubbing the tip of his cock through your slick folds, he teased you both for a little bit.

When he finally slipped into you, you swore you were going to cum again. You had to squeeze the railing harder to prevent yourself from doing so. You wanted to cum with him.

“Squeezing me so well.” He moaned, the wind picking up and the only glimmer of light was from the sun barely peeping over the horizon. You couldn’t believe you were doing this, out in the open of a hotel balcony, but the thrill of it made it that much more exciting.

“Tu aimes ça, hm?” You like that? He pushes you forward so that your chest was pressed to the railing, your head dangling over the edge as you looked down from the height of the building. Everything looked so small from this height. “Want the whole world to know you’re mine.” He continues.

“Want to fill you up.” You clench hard around him, soft moans escaping your lips into the air in response. Charles couldn’t help but feel his heart pound as he muttered the next words. “Want to fill you up with my cum, want to fuck a baby into you.”

At first, he was nervous muttering the words aloud. But the clench of your pussy around his cock only eased his nerves. Your moans increasing in volume told him just how much you liked that too.

“Merde,” Shit. You were mewling into the open air, the increase in pace of his hips had you seeing stars.

“Are you gonna let me?”

“Yes!” You were yelling it repeatedly. His fingers crawled their way around your body, slipping into the dip in the front of your dress and pinching your nipples. He rolled your nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

“C’mon donne-le moi.” Give it to me. And boy did you. You both came with a loud cry, the sound of his hips slapping into your backside a faint noise compared to the moans. The warmth of his cum seeping into you for the second time in less than 24 hours. Although, you were on the pill, you still liked to play along with the idea of being pregnant. The idea of Charles filling you up turned you on like no other.

You both took a few seconds to recoup, trying to catch your breath. He pulled out slowly, but brought his fingers down, pushing the mixture of both of your cum back inside you. He didn’t want a single drop of it to go to waste.

He turned you around, bringing your lips to a sweet kiss.

“Je suis désolée.” I’m sorry. His eyes hold your own. “I should’ve said it sooner. I didn’t mean any of it, I swear. The idea of you leaving had me freaked out, you didn’t deserve any of it. You..”

A small smile graces your lips as you see how genuine he is and you lean up on your tippy toes, bringing your lips back to his. Essentially shutting him up, his hands wrap back around you, lifting you off the ground as he carries you back into the hotel room, both of you collapsing into the bed.

“Even if I got a new job, I’m still yours.” You started. “But actually, there’s this great nanny job I heard about.” Charles feels panic forming in his chest again. But you continue on, “It involves the cutest little girl ever. I also heard that the dad is so hot and cool. Did I mention he’s single?” You joke, laughter erupting between the both of you as he cradles you into his body.

“I don’t think he’s single.”

“Yeah. He definitely isn’t.”

And that was all he needed to hear.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #don't wake the kids cl16 #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x you

942 notes · View notes

catcze · 7 months

Note

I just read the “you won’t regret marrying me” for wriothesley and let me tell that this man is definitely going to cry on the wedding day

related 'you won't regret marrying me' fanfic here ! OH OH OH OHHH HE SO TOTALLY WOULD ?!??!? Like;;;; anon. when i tell u i got a vision when i received ur ask and i had to type it IMMEDIATELY thank u for sharing your thoughts im a mess now LMAO

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

GUYS I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH I ALMOST CRIED WRITING IT DONT LET IT FLOP PLS 💔

i like to think that you're both a bit unconventional with how you go about your wedding— for one, you had gone to each others' fitting for your wedding day outfit. Wriothesley had damn near cried when he saw you in the wedding garb that you would eventually choose as your piece— he had barely managed to keep it together when he saw his engagement ring on your finger, and you dressed in white, looking so breathtaking, and his to be together with forever.

He had to turn towards the corner in the fitting room for a second, frantically wiping his eyes and willing not to cry, because he was up next after you, and he didn't want his fitting to be with puffy red eyes. You had clung to his back, giggling at how cute and sweet he is, all the while you petted his back and hair comfortingly.

On your wedding day, though? All cards are off the table. He doesn't care about keeping his composure in front of the audience. Doesn't care that even Furina is there, or that Neuvillette is there, or even Navia or the traveller. He doesn't give two shits about how he's the Duke of Meropide, and he has a reputation to uphold.

The moment those big, grand doors open and you walk yourself down the aisle, a beaming grin on your face, he fucking cracks. He sniffles first, and there's itchiness in his eyes, and then fuck, tears are genuinely welling up in his eyes, and he groans, pressing his palms into his eyes to stem the stream of tears, but it's absolutely no use.

Because fuck, he's here, you're here, you're both wearing white, there are the rings, and you're about to get married. You're about to spend the rest of your life with him, and you look so excited for it. It makes his stomach flip like crazy, makes his brain turn to mush because he loves you so much, doesn't want to spend a single day not being yours for the rest of eternity.

He sobs into his hands, and Neuvillette, who's officiating the wedding, hands him a handkerchief, which he dabs at his eyes with, to no use. He can't stop the tears from flowing, because he's so happy.

And oh, you have a trembling smile on your face when you reach him, willing yourself not to cry too because you just know that if you do, you'll be a teary mess just like him, and the wedding will never finish at that rate. But you can't stop yourself from rushing into his chest, wrapping your arms around to hold him, and he holds you back too on pure instinct— buries his face in your hair as you bury yours in the crook of his neck.

"We made it," you tell him, squeezing his body to yours, smiling through the tears.

Wriothesley gives another hiccuping sob, holding you so close you think you could pop like a balloon. He leans further into you, like he wants to melt into your very person. "Yeah, sweetheart," he breathes, voice shaky. "We made it."

#astronetwrk #「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley

1K notes · View notes

kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

Note

Oh GOD, breeding kink with Ghost but he's actually determined to get his darling pregnant because after everything they've been through together, how much he loves her and vice versa? I could go on but it's just something to think about. I also strongly believe he'd be that kind of girl dad heheh

Couldn't Love You More (Ghost x F!Reader)

Left pic credit: @ vhenan_virabelasan on IG

Word count: 3.7 k

Tags/warnings: Tooth-rotting FLUFF. Mild, soft smut 🔞, crying (from joy), breeding kink (obv), comfort no hurt. All the softness and love.

A/N: Excuse me, more soft!Ghost coming through! I hope you like this take anon 💕

"I'm tired of using those things."

Simon rarely whispers, hardly ever murmurs, and never coos. But this time, his voice is deliberately soft.

You sigh and put the condom package down on the table. This evening had been a nice change, a pampering for your poor, stressed-out nerves. He had done his best to take your mind off work ever since he got home: he took you out for a 3-course dinner – which reminded you of the early days of your dating – and it was all supposed to end in a good stress relief of a fuck.

You'd sent him suggestive texts all morning, knowing he was coming home today. Those messages were extra naughty because you happened to be ovulating, and juicy, and horny as hell.

And you know he has waited for this moment as well. Which is why you can't get your head around why he wants to raise the subject of using other methods of contraception right before you're about to have sex.

Why would he suddenly start complaining when both of you are already naked – practically seconds before you're about to roll down the condom for him?

"You know I've tried, Simon," you sigh again – you don't even bother to disguise the annoyance in your voice. After all, you've tried basically everything to make it more pleasurable for you to make love without the risk of getting knocked up. You hate the rubber between the two of you just as much as he does, if not more. Apparently you need to remind him how the last attempt with the pill went.

"I become a bloated monster," you say, realizing you're pouting only when he laughs.

You absolutely love it when he does: it's a rare thing, even with you. Even after all these years of love and dedication, the warm, husky chuckle at the back of his throat makes your heart flutter and your head feel dizzy.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean…?"

The man has a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and the flutter in your heart turns into something heavier, more serious. He looks you up and down as if to weigh whether you're ready to take in what he's about to say.

"How about we just ditch the bloody things?"

Your heart is truly getting it today: it skips a beat or two from what he says. From what he implies.

"But you…” you whisper, still unsure if you're truly discussing the same thing here. “You said that kids are a bad idea."

"They are."

The twinkle in those eyes turns into an amused gleam, the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit from seeing you so shocked.

And Simon never said he didn't want children.

It's just that he has avoided the subject like it's a seasonal flu he doesn't want to catch.

He would make the perfect father: you just know it. Sad to say, but it was one of the main reasons you fell for this man. It's stupid, but it's true: women look for these things. They can tell if a guy would be a good choice for a father. They notice safety, security, the willingness to support and provide.

Biology and instincts be damned, you simply can't deny that Simon is the first man who made you think about what it would be like to have children. And of course the perfect candidate for a father thought that kids were a bad idea…

It seemed like a cruel joke, the way he brushed you off when you first approached him with your shy request. You pussyfooted around the subject, were as delicate as one can be, knowing it might make him uncomfortable.

And it did. It more than just did.

He freaked the fuck out, went to work, and worked himself nearly to death – literally almost got himself killed, and you understood that this was serious. His childhood, his past, the dangers of his work – of course he thought himself unfit for the role.

Infuriatingly, it only made you more convinced that he was the perfect choice. The man was just so fricking responsible.

You barred your mouth shut after that. Instinct told you Simon might just leave if you continued the talk about having kids. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he would want to give you a chance to find someone to raise a family with before it was too late.

It was his view of unconditional love: he was ready to let you go if need be. He would set you free if he suspected it would make you happy.

But then you saw him look at tiny kids – usually the ones that had just learned to walk – with a fleeting longing in his stare. It always turned into a withdrawn sulk, the gaze of a man who has accepted his fate.

He seemed to have the softest spot for little girls, especially when they were laughing and giggling or being unruly rascals, and sometimes flinched when a baby started to cry in the store. He looked a bit distressed for a second, and not because of the noise – but because he couldn't locate the immediate source and go and calm the baby.

That's when you realized he actually wanted kids. The biological clock on this man was ticking just as furiously as yours.

Years passed, and you silently buried your dreams of raising a little family together. He was enough for you, more than enough: you would not break up because of this. No man could ever replace Simon.

But it still hurt. It was like a wound that never healed.

Until this night…

This night, it seemed he would not only cure it but heal it so well it wouldn’t even leave a scar.

You suddenly find yourself under him – his moves are so quick that it's almost like you're teleported there. He sometimes does that: lets you play with him for a while, have your fun on top before reminding you who is in control here.

And this time, he won't even let you play.

"Simon, what are you doing," you sigh with barely concealed exhilaration.

As if you didn't know exactly what he is about to do.

He looks at you with that possessive look he sometimes has when you two have been apart for far too long. And there's something more behind that stare. It tells you that this is serious; this means business. The package you placed on the nightstand remains unopened and, apparently, will be the witness to his mission tonight.

Serves the damn thing right…

You take in the absolute beef of this man: the bulk of pecs above you, the wide, solid middle that nearly swallows you every time you're under him.

You almost disappear between him and the mattress when you two are doing missionary, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. You've wanted to sink your teeth in to those huge, solid shoulders for god knows how many times. Once or twice, you actually did give him a little bite, only a nib, really, during a good pounding – and giggled at the breathless grunt of "Hey" that followed.

The trail of hair, darker in tone compared to the hair on his head, spreads over his abs which rest under a thin layer of fat. The happy trail, as you call it, runs down until it meets the heavy cock that always makes your mouth water like it's your favorite meal.

His hand is weighty, adoring when it comes to rest on your waist – the callous of his palms feels just the right kind of rough as he gives you the softest squeeze and a caress.

And he must know from the wanton looks you gave him all evening that he can just walk right in. Probably knew from those texts already that you've been wet all day long.

You try to spread your legs wider than they can go as he grabs himself to be positioned to your entrance. The fat tip of him feels heavy on your folds as he lazily slides himself up and down your slit, teasing the opening but not going in. It feels heavenly to sense him, all of him, with nothing there between you. There's no lifeless rubber: just his thick velvet meeting your wetness and silk.

The darned man won't even answer your question… Probably knows it's not really a question, just an astonished sigh of love.

"It's…not safe," your head falls back as he pushes the first few inches in – teasing you still by not giving you the full length and thick of him.

"Tired of safe, too," he rumbles softly above you, feeds more of himself in, and you tighten around his cock: receive him with fierce love and yearning. He groans at the sensation – it must feel divine for him, too. It must feel like it's meant to be this way. Now and forever.

You sigh as he starts to move, slow and intense, just the way he knows you like it when there's been too much stress and life has been a bitch. He always makes you feel better, always makes you melt in his arms when you run to him from the unfair, fucked up world.

He's got some bad days too, and that’s when you ruffle his hair, scrub his back in the shower, give him a sloppy little blowjob, or make him his favorite dish, anything to make the tension in those mountains of shoulders disappear.

You two worship each other; there’s no question about that.

"Simon–ah… Truly, are you serious…?"

"Hell yeah."

The idea of him cumming inside you is thrilling enough, but it's not just about that.

You're ovulating, and he's a man in his absolute prime. He reminds you of mountain lions and snow leopards, living their life in harsh conditions and in wandering solitude until… Until the perfect companion comes along. He's simply the most virile male there is; broad, wide, and heavy, always ready when you are.

A man like Simon just cannot be infertile.

His eyes are half-lidded already, and those pale eyelashes make you bite your lip and grab his butt like it would be a life or death situation if he chose to withdraw.

And you know he loves it when you grope his ass and try to assist him with the thrusts.

His little helper, indeed…

"Bloody fucking hell, you feel good…"

His head rolls back, exposing the tendons on his neck, thick, like the rest of him. Everything in this man is thick and broad and good – and fuck – he glides in and out like a dream. Somehow the extra layer of rubber has taken the brunt of his thickness away, but you feel it now, all of it, and it's something you could die for.

He grunts and thrusts, then halts for a while, chuckles all breathless…

"It's gonna be one hell of a show, sweetheart."

He's talking about what comes after. How it will be when there's a new addition and not a crew of two anymore. It brings tears to your eyes to see how he's already thinking about the future – and how he does it with a smile and a pleased chuckle.

"I'm used to sleepless nights," he reminds you softly. "You're not."

Ugh – he's thinking about your well-being when it would only make you the happiest woman on earth to take care of his children. Your children.

"I'll manage," you whisper.

"I know you will."

The tears are so close now; he’s simply the one and only person in this world for whom your love is boundless. It’s endless, overflowing.

He pulls back a little, raises your legs to rest on his shoulders, then crawls forward – he’s about to go deep, and the indecent but insanely sweet position makes you quail from him at first. It’s just too much all of a sudden.

"Wait–"

"The boys said this'll do the trick," he explains, waits until you adjust under and around him.

"The–the boys?"

He had been discussing this with his workmates…?

Discussing which position is the best to help conceive?

"Yeah. Wanna do this properly."

This man might actually be serious… He just might be serious about this, and you still have difficulty grasping it.

"I can't believe you want this," you whisper, still trying to catch your breath on what's happening.

"Believe it or not, it's gonna happen now."

The smallest tear escapes, and you purse your lips, shut them tight to prevent a tiny little bawl from erupting.

"I've always wanted you, Simon," you breathe into the air between you as he starts to make love to you, fill you with intent. "Just you, all these years…"

He rarely whispers, but this time, his voice is the softest hush.

"Right back at ya, darling."

"I–I want to give you… want your kids," you whimper, tears coating your voice as he continues the torture while the sweet, tight love surrounds you both.

"I want a family, Simon," you pant weakly, almost distressed. So urgent, desperate, like the wound is yet to be healed. You've never said those words to him before because you were afraid he might leave.

"Love… fuckin' hell."

He has to stop to catch his breath, to catch the truth. Of course he has known it all along without you telling him, because he simply has those instincts of a wild animal.

But words are powerful… They are magic. And this magic wants itself spelled out.

"I'll give them to you," he promises. "All of it. I swear."

Your eyes drift closed from the full wave of his vow. This mission is a crucial one, then, one of his most important ones. The man loves challenges; he loves when you up the stakes. Perhaps that's what this is about: he doesn't want to be a coward about the thing you both want.

The skulls, the brass and death that always surround him can't take away the fact that he's a lifegiver. No matter what anyone says, men can give life, too. He has already given you so much, and now he's going to give you children.

A few more tears push through, and it's one of the sweetest things in your life: to get fucked by him so good while you're crying from joy.

"Luv. You trust me?"

You open your eyes again, and the sight of him is crystallized through tears. It's the most beautiful thing.

"I trust you," you answer with a shaky breath.

Your trust is even more drugging to him than the tightness of your cunt, it seems. The corner of his eye twitches once, his brows knit together, and a pained look passes in his stare: but it's the sweet kind of pain, just like yours is.

"Feels so good," you whisper, looking up at him with devout love. "So, so good…"

"You're damn right," he sighs, panting with strained, short breaths. "Never felt this good."

He rocks you like you're under the sea, at the bottom of the ocean where the waves are mellow and the seabed is made of the softest sand. You're squeezed between his arms, tightly; he pins you to the bed with his body. The flutter of those pale lashes with every thrust is illegally sweet.

Your lips are bolted shut from the raw sensation, the swelling waves, but when a noise finally erupts, it does so with force.

You know it makes him wild whenever you cry and plead under him. You know it sends him straight to the edge, too: when you moan and tighten around his cock, spread yourself for him to plunder while you're clawing at his back. You were so embarrassed the first time you noticed the red marks on his skin after your little sessions, but he was only pleased and said you should never apologize for that. His body is full of past pain and torture, and still, still, he allows, even wants you to destroy it even more.

"Faster, Simon, please…"

"Yeah, that's it. Beg... Beg for me, love… "

And damn right, he's eating up your wrecked state like it's time for Christmas dinner, and the table is brimming with his favorite food. You're close, so close it would be torture, devastation if he stopped.

"Ya want me to give it to you?" His voice is more rough, more commanding. God, he's close too.

"Yes–give it to me, please–"

Just don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop…

You beg some more, but it's incoherent. Just the way he likes.

Simon–fuck…

There's no reason to it, just ah's and fuck's and love's, all knit together in a sweet, heady mess as you come–

Fuck–!

…the orgasm is so intense it points your toes, makes you wrap around his middle with what little strength you have in your arms and fingers and those tiny little claws. Your nails sink in, somewhere between his shoulder blades: he's so wide you can't quite reach to hug him, but you latch onto him like a drowning person nonetheless.

"Oh–oh fucking god…!"

He comes, right after, buries himself so deep that it stings a little, but you would never, ever complain. He pumps you full, doesn't even move, only arches his back to go even deeper, although he's already buried there to the hilt.

And never has he in all your years together sounded so vulnerable. He usually just grunts and huffs when he comes, but now you get a whole string of words and a fragile, broken pitch. He sounds as if he's near the point of breaking into tears.

It must feel divine to cum inside you instead of a condom, and what's even more, with the intent to fulfill a mission with that shot. Give life.

If you don't get pregnant from this, well… you doubt you ever will.

He's lying on top of you in a heavy, panting heap, sounding like he's just done ten deadlift PRs in a row. You can't help but laugh, breathless, too, and caress him as he comes down from his sex high.

"You can let me go now," you ghost your fingertips up and down his back when he still doesn't move. It's not that you want him to release you, but he's simply too heavy to be lying all over you like this for long periods of time.

"Nah not yet. Gotta make sure..."

He thinks you want him to pull out, and you giggle some more.

"You're crushing me," you laugh. "And we can do this all weekend, silly. If you want to make sure."

His middle contracts with a silent laugh, too.

"Got a fair point there, love."

Finally, he lets you out of the spread. He pulls out, too – that's not necessarily what you wanted, but when he takes you in his arms, you don't complain.

"That was… so nice," you say, suddenly shy. As if this was the first time he wrapped himself around you in a post-coital embrace.

"That was the best."

He's so warm, and the arm around you is heavy, even when lax. Especially when lax. You feel soft and sweet in his hold made of pure strength.

"I'd be surprised if not. You were very determined."

"You think that did it..?"

He's suddenly shy, too. You could swear he has never asked such a fragile question during or after a mission.

"No half-assing with my sweetheart."

One could say he really used his whole ass on this. You know it, because you're the one who spurred him on with weak but eager hands.

"...but I think it would be best to try again tomorrow. Just in case," he suggests, and you can hear the smile. God, that you love him.

"I wouldn't say no to that."

You imagine him waking up to your baby's cry with a sigh and a jaw-dislocating yawn, hushing you back to sleep by telling you it's his turn to go. He would finally locate the source of crying and make it his mission to cradle the little breadcrumb back to sleep, too. You just know Simon would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while the baby is still in his arms, sound asleep just like their dad.

And you also know the child would make him laugh more. He would have the greatest time hearing all the silly (not to talk about the clever!) things the kid comes up with once it started talking. Simon would listen with a straight face, at first – out of respect – but then he would come to you with an unrestrained smile and a comment: "Did'ya hear what that little thing just said? Unbelievable..."

Whenever the kid had a tricky question, you would send them to Simon. It's decided already. You imagine him explaining things to the child with his steady and calm briefing voice while you're trying to keep your giggle in.

And when the little one was big enough to run around and poke things off the shelves, Simon would embrace you from behind while you're pouring some morning tea and say: "Should we make another one, hmm?"

After all, your little troublemaker would also need a friend to play with...

There's a gigantic, peaceful smile on your face, and Simon should be snoring by now… But he's still awake, and the arm around you draws you closer. He even tucks his hand partly between your body and the mattress. It's the sweetest prison from which you never want to escape.

"What if… What if I get grumpy when I'm pregnant?" You start to chit-chat nonsense while he holds you against a solid chest. You know he will fall asleep soon, and you wish to voice some fragile concerns before he does.

"I'll bring you ice cream to keep you nice and calm," he mutters in the back of your neck, sounding drowsy already.

"What if ice cream won't help?"

"I'll bring you chocolate."

You smile at him having a solution to every problem, no matter how minor.

"You're really not afraid…?"

"Of you being grumpy? Nah I don't think so."

"No," you laugh at him joking around. "Of… changes."

"After all that we've been through? No." He brushes his lips over your neck, and you turn a little to look at him.

"Simon... What made you change your mind?"

He thinks on the answer for a good ten seconds. You know that inward look, which is both a gaze to the past and a shaky, hopeful glimpse to the future.

"Don't wanna die without knowing how our kid would look like. What they would be like."

You swallow past sorrow – it's such a beautiful thing to say that you have to catch your breath for a moment. Then you put your hand over his arm, the one keeping you close to him.

"Guess I got tired of living in fear," he sums up the change of heart, and you have to blink back more tears.

"I'm tired of living in fear, too," you whisper, and he entwines your fingers together. The kiss that follows is like a seal to your change of plans. It's pure hope.

"Could you... Could you say that we'll be fine?" You speak on his lips as softly as you can. You sometimes worry that he's annoyed by your constant need for reassurance, but he sounds as solid as a soldier can be.

"We'll be fine like always. Promise you that."

He doesn't seem to mind: if anything, you could swear that giving you encouragement only makes his chest puff up a little. The man gets satisfaction from you needing him in your life like this.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of us."

You ease fully into his embrace. He has said he'll take care of you many times before, but now your world is changing. It has changed already; you just know it. There's no more you and him, a team of two.

There will be a tiny little breadcrumb too.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #soft simon riley #soft ghost #fluff and smut #call of duty #mw2 fluff

3K notes · View notes

ovaryacted · 3 months

Note

please hear me out for this one. subby!re2!leon who refuses to pull away from eating you out like his life depends on it because you just taste too good!

like you've gotten him sooooo deep into subspace you seriously expect him to stop now? you may have just squirted but he's already came 3 times in his briefs and is whining and begging for one more! and comeon. you just gotta let him because you asked for this and all he wants to do is make you feel good 🙁😵‍💫

MDNI/18+. NSFW.

Anon…I’m hearing you out babe. Matter of fact, I’m gonna give you the megaphone so you can scream this across the rooftops. Trust me, I’m part of the pathetic Leon munch brigade and I believe he would eat pussy because he can and because he wants to please you. Whatever makes you feel good, he provides because it makes him feel good knowing he’s the reason why you’re a damn mess.

One of your favorite pastimes involves breaking Leon down into that delicious subspace where he’s not thinking and acting based on instinct. You’d probably order him to get situated between your legs, and before you could tell him, he’s already down on his knees and taking your panties off happily. Depending on your mood and tone of voice, either you’re taking control, or he’s doing it on his own as a way to make you relax.

His nose would be rubbing against you, licking up the length of your body and moaning as your taste filled his mouth. Leon has an oral fixation of his own, and being able to have his tongue on you curbs it for him. You were the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, you reminded him of ripe peaches or a sip of sweet tea on a summer day, things that brought him comfort and made him content. With his eyes closed, he holds one of your legs up to give him easier access to your cunt, sucking diligently in the way you liked, the way you taught him.

Your scent alone would be enough to make him slip into subspace, an added yank of his hair would grant you a whimper from him. The only thing on his mind would be to make you fall over the edge more times than you can count, to make sure he got every orgasm he could get from you.

The first time you cum from his mouth, it’s relatively easy, not needing much except flicks of your clit. Your second orgasm takes a bit longer than your first, but it’s stronger and prolonged when Leon uses his fingers to please you. He’s done this so often that he knows exactly what to do, knows when to add another finger and when to curve them into that spot tucked nicely at the roof of your entrance. The way you flex around his fingers and tighten around him is enough to make him cum untouched in his briefs, making a mess and staining the cotton material as he pathetically sought friction with the floor.

He gets more sloppy with his ministrations, sucking at your clit more harshly and finger fucking you until you give him exactly what he’s looking for. Your thighs shake from where they sat on his broad shoulders, crying out as you squirted right in his mouth. Leon is greedy in seeking out your arousal, replacing his fingers with his tongue and humming as he slurped up every drop you gave him.

Leon was lightheaded now, his cock aching as it twitched again in his briefs, threatening to cum another time until you reluctantly pulled his head away from you. He whines, actually whines in defiance and you almost think he’ll throw a tantrum at the mere thought of not being able to have your pussy for the rest of the night. You took in his appearance, plush pink lips wet and swollen from what he’d been doing for the past 30 minutes, his chin and jaw were coated in your slick. What you loved most about these moments was how his eyes were completely glossed over, he wasn’t entirely present anymore, which was what you wanted from the beginning.

“Baby you gotta give me a break”, you said to him exasperatingly, chuckling at the way Leon licked his lips, leaving kisses along your mound absentmindedly.

“Just one more, please. Let me give you one more…”, he looked like he was about to cry if he didn’t give you another orgasm, strong fingers digging into your thighs and pouting at you.

You couldn’t stop him, you didn’t want to, even if you knew one more was never just one more with Leon. So you leaned back and let him suck away at you again and again until your whole body went numb. Even if you were tired, he would offer to fuck you properly, to leave you satisfied and full of him. He’s been good after all, making you feel like you were on cloud nine after a stressful day. Your pussy was his reward after a long day of working, and you didn’t want him to go hungry.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #sub leon kennedy smut #sub leon kennedy #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #ovaryacted asks

732 notes · View notes

niningtori · 1 month

Text

supermodel | part two

part one

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after finding out one of your closest friends sabotaged your relationship with beomgyu in hopes of having him all to herself, you end up spending a night with him. you may come to regret it when you realize beomgyu may not have been as innocent as he initially seemed.

genre: romance, angst, MELODRAMA, yandere, smut (MDNI!!!)

warnings: MDNI!!! yandere!gyu (super manipulative!gyu at least), more (justified imo) cheating, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving), creampie, dacryphilia, praise, degradation, pregnancy kink, voyeurism (ig?), dom!gyu, sub!gyu, if i'm missing anything lmk

word count: 6.2k

notes: alright ;_; after much debate i'm reposting this probably only for a few days just so everyone who wanted to read can read it before i (probably) delete again! posting this made me feel rlly insecure for some reason but thanks to my moots and anons i feel a lot better ab it :) at least for a little bit. also, i know the direction may have taken quite the turn but this is genuinely just how it came out 😭 if you don't like it i'm sorry ( ཀ͝ ∧ ཀ͝ )

it’s hard to reason with beomgyu as he presses hot kisses down your neck, but it’s not like you’re not trying. you think you’re trying really hard, actually, but it’s nothing in comparison to the effort he’s putting in to make you lose your mind. you have no control over your moans when he sucks a hickey into your neck. you feel heat pooling in your stomach as he grabs your ass and snakes his other hand up your hoodie to catch one of your hardened nipples between his fingers. he’s finally tasted you and, like a man starved, he’ll be damned before someone takes away what’s his.

“b-beomie, we can’t! let’s go back to my place, at least,” you try to reason, but your resolve is weakening as you feel your pussy wetten under his caresses.

“shh, hana’s not gonna be home tonight,” he whispers. “just want you so bad, can’t wait.” he looks so earnest, you can’t bear to part from him. his puppy eyes look devastated, so what else can you do besides relent? and he knows it, too. now he’s got you.

he leads you to hana’s bedroom, where he’s spent countless nights listening to her talk about how much she loves him, has loved him for years. he wants to roll his eyes at this, but he doesn’t want you to misunderstand, so he keeps it to himself. he’ll admit, she really did pull the wool over his eyes when she said you didn’t like him, so he can’t wait to see her reaction when she realizes you two have finally figured it out. if she wants to play dirty, they can both try their hand and see who wins.

and it feels an awful lot like he’s winning when he sees you undress once again, body bare with traces of him on every part of you. even if he hadn’t marked you up so much, and he has, there’s still evidence of his impact on you leaking out of your pussy. you letting him come inside was truly unexpected, but welcome, nonetheless. he knows, when you’ve sobered up from your lustful daze, you’ll ask him if he’s ever fucked hana raw. you’ll probably cry again and rush to get plan b, but he’ll tell you he’s not stupid. he’d never fuck anyone without protection, especially someone he likes as little as he likes hana. he just likes you so much, he couldn’t help but want to feel you. you’re everything he dared to wish you would be. even better, actually, and now that he’s tasted you, he never wants to stop.

the feeling of wanting to be close to you reemerges when he sees you dropping to your knees for him. you fiddle with the zipper of his pants and he sighs when cool air meets his bare cock. and you're so perfect with your makeup smudged, hair in disarray, and mouth open, prettily presented for fucking.

you start with a lick of your lips and he’s already rock hard from the anticipation. you grab his base and tease little licks up and down his length. he never thought he’d be particularly into that, really, but you look so hungry for him it makes him whine. finally, you lick the precum off of his tip and he moans when you shallowly take in the tip of his cock, hollowing out your cheeks. you bob your head shallowly and it’s taking every ounce of self control he has not to grab the back of your head and shove himself down your throat. but he doesn’t want to hurt you, so he lets you tease him. for now, at least. you take more and more of him into your warm mouth until you can feel his tip searing the back of your throat. you can’t possibly fit all of him into your mouth, so you take the rest of him in your hands. you look up at him with watery eyes, almost like you’re asking for his approval, and his already thinning patience snaps. he grabs your hair and pumps himself in and out of you. you try to meet his thrusts with teasing swipes of your tongue, never once breaking eye contact. the combination of your gaze and the sight of your drool mixed with his precum dripping out of your mouth drives him crazy.

“baby, look, you’re drooling all over my cock.” you hum in agreement, but a nasty thought crosses his mind as he remembers that you almost went out with another man tonight.

“mmm, who taught you how to use that slutty little mouth?” he asks, riling himself up for reasons unknown. the thought of someone else seeing you like this is enough to push him to madness. he fucks himself into your mouth mercilessly. you’re coughing and slobbering all over his cock, but it’s only when hot tears pour down your face that he registers what he’s doing. how can he bear to hurt you? he pulls out and you’re gasping for air.

“shh, it’s okay, you’re okay. c’mere,” he coos, leading you to the bed.

you lay down shakily and he takes a moment just to admire your body and the work he’s done to it. he can’t control the want in his gaze when he sees your pussy dripping on hana’s comforter. it’s sick to see, in a way, but it excites him even more.

“turn around,” he commands, and you would, you really, really would, but your limbs feel so weak, it’s a chore. he sighs and roughly turns you on your stomach himself. he manhandles you into kneeling on all fours and it’s all you can do not to buckle under such force, but you can’t deny the way it makes your pussy clench around nothing when he does this. as if he can read your mind, he lets out a soft laugh as he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes himself in. you’ve obviously just fucked, but you’re still as tight and hot as the first time. slowly, he feels you stretch and spasm to accommodate his length – pussy gripping him like a vise. he shakes when he feels himself completely sheathed in you.

“g-good girl,” he praises. “so good for me.” then, without giving you another moment to adjust, he begins thrusting into you. his hips meet your ass and he’s awestruck by the sight of it as the tip of his cock kisses your cervix relentlessly. as he’s pumping into your heat, you don’t mean for your arms to give out from under you, but they do. he’s just fucking you so good you can’t help but feel weak. he chuckles at how you’re becoming undone after just a few strokes, but truthfully? he’s endeared. you were so brave in talking back to him earlier, but that attitude is completely gone as you lay there and let him take you over and over again.

“nghh… not so hard, beomie,” you moan.

“is it good, baby? i can feel you milking my cock. tell me it’s good, or i’ll stop,” he threatens.

“mmm, ‘s good! too good!”! you cry.

you’re so busy moaning out beomgyu’s name with your face mashed in the pillows, you really don’t hear the apartment door open and keys being thrown carelessly on the table, but as for beomgyu? he hears it all and it brings a mean, lopsided grin to his face. you’d think he would, at the very least, slow down, but he only rams harder and harder into you. the sound of wetness and skin slapping skin echo throughout the room. hana really wasn’t supposed to be home, this much is true, but what beomgyu didn’t tell you is that she had texted him saying her plans have changed and that he should come over. truly, he couldn’t have conjured up a better outcome than the one unfolding before him.

“beomgyu?!” hana shrieks. you’re so surprised you nearly jump out of beomgyu’s grasp, but he holds your ass in place as he continues his thrusts.

“don’t listen to her, just feel me,” he says in a raspy tone. and what can you do besides listen when he drills himself even harder into you? when you feel the veins of his cock dragging against your insides, you’re tuning out hana’s desperate cries, intentionally or not.

“coming inside, okay?” he, well, you would say ‘asks’, but it’s more of a statement of fact rather than a question. “take it all, baby,” he says as his hips begin to stutter. he smacks your ass — just because he can — and you feel it pulsate throughout your entire body as you clench around him, seeing nothing but white behind your eyelids as your release finally comes along with his.

you’re gasping for air when you finish. he carefully pulls out and watches as your cum and his mix together in the most sinful way. it’s a truly a sight to see, and if he had more time, he would be whipping out his phone and capturing the moment to revisit the next time he’s alone, but hana’s words are cutting into his bliss before he can fully appreciate the sight before him.

“b-beomie? w-what’s going on?” hana asks, tears streaming unabashedly down her pretty face. beomgyu is far too preoccupied to appreciate them, though, as he gently helps you sit up and thoughtfully wipes the drool and tears off of your face.

“‘what’s going on?’” he begins mockingly. “do you really need me to show you again?” he sneers.

meanwhile, you feel like a deer in headlights as you meet hana’s gaze. you feel dirty and small as you try your damndest to cover yourself up. hana’s soft eyes harden while she stares at you.

“you. you did this, you fucking slut,” she spits. you break your gaze and stare down at your naked body. you feel incredibly vulnerable because, as you already know, she’s right. you feel your eyes heat up with tears, this time from guilt and humiliation rather than pleasure.

“you’d better watch your fucking mouth,” beomgyu says, eyebrows furrowed and voice even deeper than usual.

“i just don’t understand. why? why her? and how could you do this to me? you said you loved me!” she shrieks, grabbing beomgyu’s arm. he harshly pulls away and instead collects your sweats and hoodie. you can’t help but stare. he said he loved her then he turned around and fucked you? oh no.

“well, i lied, if that’s not clear enough,” he shrugs, gingerly dressing you like you’re some kind of catatonic doll. and, right now, you might as well be as you let him do what he wants. his callous words don’t match his gentle actions and it’s making your brain short-circuit.

“if and when he does the same shit to you,” she says, looking at you with more hurt than you’ve ever seen on a person, “don’t you fucking dare come crying to me. or any of our friends, actually. just wait ‘til they hear what you fucking did.” you shiver at her ominous words. she’s right, after all. beomgyu dropped her the second you showed interest in him, who’s to say he won’t do the same to you? sure, he’s acting lovey dovey now, but you’ve seen firsthand how quickly his tune can change. you’re absolutely fucked. it’s your word against hers, and with the evidence of your betrayal seeping into her sheets, you don’t like your odds. you can’t help but stare at beomgyu, and, as if he’s reading your mind, he says his next words patiently.

“i love you. i would never hurt you like this.” he loves you now? you continue to look at him doubtfully. his words seem cheap after hana’s unforgiving speech, and he realizes he’s losing you when you don’t respond. hana doesn’t stop there, though.

“if he did this to me, i can’t wait to see what he’ll do to you,” she laughs. hana is, objectively speaking, a lot more of a catch than you are. and to the very bitter end, she won’t let you fucking forget it.

“shut your fucking mouth!” he exclaims and she flinches, as do you. you’ve never seen him so angry and it’s enough to scare you.

“... i should go,” you croak.

“yeah, you should,” hana ridicules. you do an incredibly shaky walk of shame as you quickly gather your things.

“hey, wait!” he pleads, but you’re already booking it out of the door. he goes to run after you, but hana grabs him forcefully by his shoulder and he spins around to face her. you slam the door, not wanting to know what kind of makeup sex they will probably be having relatively soon. as soon as you’re gone, hana begins.

“are you fucking crazy? her, of all people?!” she hisses.

“i thought i told you to watch how you talk about her,” he says lowly. his eyes are so intense, she’s momentarily stunned, but he’s crazy if he thinks that’ll shut her up. perhaps to her eventual regret, she says her next words.

“if i tell everyone, she’ll be fucking ruined. she’ll have nobody after this.”

“so?”

“so, stay with me,” she says softly, while, to his disgust, grabbing his hands and pleading with him. “stay with me, and i won’t tell anybody.” she looks as pathetic as a dog right now, and her words make him laugh in her face.

“tell them,” he says.

“w-what?” she sputters.

“tell them all. i want you to tell them how i fucked one of your best friends and got her pregnant. tell them how i fucked her raw in your own bed. go on, i’d love to see their reactions when they find out.”

“you’re… you’re fucking crazy,” she gasps.

“maybe, but not crazy enough to stay with you,” he shrugs. “i got what i wanted, i don’t need you anymore.” for once, she shuts her mouth. the puzzle pieces finally fit together and her jaw drops in awe.

“you did this on purpose?”

“maybe you’re not as dumb as you look,” he sneers, and with that, he zips up his pants and pats her cheek. “you were okay in bed, but that’s about it.”

her tears are falling, but that does nothing to mar her beauty. still, his heart remains unfazed.

“when she finds out, she’ll leave you,” she sobs.

“and who will she believe? her ex friend who’s out to get her, or me? the only person she has left? i’d love to see who she believes.” his words leave her in even more tears, but he does nothing to placate her. he just grabs his shit and slams the door behind him.

hana wastes no time in telling your friends about your scandal. your incoming texts range from “what the fuck is wrong with you” to “is it true?” to “you’d better not show your face to us again”.

you attempt to explain yourself, but to no avail. even if hana lied to you first, you committed the ultimate betrayal with a smile on your face. nobody wants to hear your sob story about your forbidden love with beomgyu. nobody, not even your best friend, dares to defend you now.

the one person who’s on your side has been texting you relentlessly, though. beomgyu’s insistence on making sure you’re okay does little to quell the uneasiness in your heart. hana’s words resound in your head. “if he did this to me, i can’t wait to see what he does to you.” you don’t want to give him that chance, but your resolve is weakening when you feel yourself becoming more and more isolated from the people you used to call your friends.

for days, you don’t leave your house except to go to work. where else can you go? you don’t have anyone to go out with you anymore. still, beomgyu texts and attempts to call you through it all. his messages are all about how much he loves you, how much he misses you, how much he needs you. how much he promises to make things right with you and how you’re the only one he’s wanted all along. more and more, you feel yourself slipping away. even though you never respond, you still sift through his messages and it’s enough to bring smiles, no matter how small, to your face. he loves you, wants you, needs you. who else do you have in your life to say things like that to you?

still, the thought of trusting him scares you to your bones. what if he does the same shit to you? you don’t have a support system anymore. you don’t have anybody to rely on when he inevitably hurts you in the same way. why wouldn't he, after all? you’re no match for the kind of girls who come his way. what happens when he gets sick of you and wants to fuck another girl in your bed? you’re stuck with these thoughts as you nurse a bottle of vodka, alone in your apartment with nobody but yourself. this is what you deserve, you think.

a knock on your door is enough to pull you out of your drunken haze. is it one of your friends? could they have finally gotten over their intial shock and disgust and understood that you didn’t mean for any of this to happen the way it did? you stumble to the door and you’re too drunk to even think about checking who it is before desperately swinging open the door. you are not met with the familiar face of one of your friends, however. instead, you see the face of the boy who’s been haunting your dreams for the past few nights.

“beomgyu?” he looks absolutely devastated, eyes reddened and wet with his face ghostly pale. he reeks of alcohol and he stands almost tremblingly. he doesn’t respond to you, just stares at you with the same intensity that entranced you from the very beginning.

“what are you doing here?” you ask.

“can i come in? please?” you’ve never been able to say no to him, and you especially can’t in his current pathetic state. you move from the doorway to allow him access and quietly shut the door behind him.

“what do you want?” you try.

“want you,” he sobs, tears finally flowing from his sad brown eyes. “only ever wanted you.” your heart aches when you see him like this. you thought hana’s reaction was devastating enough, but he looks absolutely wrecked right now, putting her despair to shame, really.

“i don’t know what to say,” you admit. “we fucked up, plain and simple. and i don’t know how i can trust you after what we did.” you’re not a victim in this, to be clear, but you’re far too vulnerable to accept the heart that he's holding out for you so carelessly.

“i know, and i'm sorry. i'm so, so sorry. what can i do to make you trust me?” he begs. your already soft heart softens even more at his words, but you have to be realistic.

“i… i don’t think i can. if you had just talked to me in the first place things could've been different,” you reason. this only puts the boy in an even worse state. he’s almost wailing now, and he looks to you for comfort.

“p-please, just please. give me one chance,” he cries, looking absolutely frantic. “i’ll prove it to you, just let me.” he reaches for your face and you didn’t even realize you’re crying until he swipes away your tears. well, you’re already going to hell. what’s the point in atoning for your sins now?

as if he can read your mind, he musters up a shaky smile before leaning in and giving you a chaste kiss. his lips taste salty, but sweet, and he’s kissing you with a passion you’ve never felt before. you almost believe him when he says you’re the only one. almost.

“h-how do i know you’re not going to do the same thing to me?” you ask unsteadily.

“i would never,” he says immediately. “i would never hurt you.” at least, not like this. but you don’t know that yet.

in the weeks following his drunken appearance at your door, being with beomgyu is even better than you thought it would be. it’s like a switch has been turned back on and he’s back to treating you like a princess, almost like the months since your “breakup” never happened. he randomly brings you flowers, showers you with kisses, and he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you along with declarations of love, which you never directly reciprocate. no matter how well he treats you, though, there’s an underlying sense of unease. you still find it difficult to fully trust him, and he can tell. it’s driving him to the brink of madness trying to come up with ways to show you how much he cares.

you’re in the middle of pensively reevaluating the nature of your relationship with beomgyu for the 100th time when you hear a knock on your door. at this point, you don't even bother checking who it is because you already know it'll be beomgyu. no matter how desperately you wish it were one of your ex-friends, you’re always met with his face, instead. you open the door and you’re shocked, to put it mildly. standing before you is not the beomgyu you know and (probably) love, but hana.

“we need to talk,” she grumbles. almost as if you’re possessed, you let her in without much fuss. is she here to rekindle your friendship? to tell you she’ll forgive you after what you’ve done to her?

“hana, listen i’m so incredibly sor—”

“save it,” she says, lifting her hand. “i’m only here ‘cause i have something i need to say to you. it took me weeks to come here because i don’t even wanna look at you.” you gulp and nod, genuinely anxious as to what she has in store for you.

“i’m just going to tell you straight up. beomgyu’s not who you think he is,” she deadpans.

“w-what do you mean?” if she’s talking about how he’ll eventually betray you, you’ve already thought of that. why she thinks this is news to you, you don’t know.

“listen to me, he planned this whole fucking thing.” what could she possibly mean by that? he planned to get caught by her? that doesn’t even make sense. “i told him i’d be home the night that i walked in on you.” your jaw drops in horror, but she continues as if she doesn’t notice.

“i think… i think he heard us over the phone and knew you’d be there before meeting with jay. he told me he wanted our friends to find out and to see who you’d believe if i told you. whether you believe me or not, i really don’t give a fuck, but it’s true. he said he got what he wanted, so he doesn’t need me anymore.” she chokes on her last words and you can't help but feel sorry for her, but that feeling is overshadowed by the feelings of anger towards beomgyu. you don’t think hana would lie about this. she looks so flustered and heartbroken, you don’t believe for a second that she’s lying just to rile you up. before you can reply, the door opens and beomgyu’s figure appears in your doorway. he has a smile on his face, but it drops lightning fast when he sees who’s standing there.

“what the fuck are you doing here?” he says with a scowl.

“i’m on my way out,” hana mumbles, pushing past him. he doesn’t even attempt to stop her. he registers the mixed emotions on your face and he can guess what she said to you without much effort.

“let me explain,” he says lowly, already heading towards you to placate you like you’re some sort of wild animal he has to coax. and you’re so angry, you might as well be.

“explain what? that you ruined my fucking life?” you spit. he flinches at your tone, even more so at your next words. “what i don’t understand is why? is my life a fucking game to you?” his face crumbles at this.

“n-no! never!” he sputters.

“then what is this? what’s your reason for planning for hana to walk in us? is this a kink or something?” he shakes his head frantically.

“you don’t understand, i just wanted it to be us,” he pleads. “i don’t like them. they’ll just try to take you away from me.”

“take me away from them? beomgyu, i’m not some fucking toy. i’m a person. a person whose life you fucking ruined for no reason!” you exclaim. you’re so frustrated you could cry, so you do. does he not realize how badly he fucked you over? “you promised you’d never hurt me,” you sob.

“i-i did it for us! they wouldn’t care about how we feel… they’d just take hana’s side without even thinking about it!” he argues, grabbing your hands. you want to pull away, but if you do, that means you’ll be completely alone.

“you didn’t even give them a chance,” you reason. “now it’s really over,” you say between sobs. “i… i could’ve talked to them, but you ruined it!”

“i just want you all to myself, is that so bad?” he asks, as if he genuinely can't understand why you’re so upset. he’s actually sick in the head.

“why?!” you ask again, ripping your hands from his grasp.

“because i love you,” he says desperately. “i just love you so much. i’m sorry, i’ll never do anything like this again,” he promises.

“yeah, you won’t,” you reply bitterly. “because i won’t give you that chance.”

“w-what do you mean?” he asks, lips trembling and eyes red.

“i’m not doing this with you anymore. this whole thing was doomed from the start,” you reply firmly. he shakes his head as if denying it with fervor will undo what you’ve said, tears now flowing freely from his reddened eyes.

“no, p-please,” he cries. “i only did it because i love you so much. ever since i first saw you, i only ever wanted to be with you. i… i know i fucked up, but it was the only way. believe me, please.” your already soft heart is softening even more as you listen to the desperation in his voice. he sounds so lost and scared, as if he really doesn’t know what he’ll do if you tell him no. you briefly wonder if he’s ever heard the words: “no, beomgyu. you’ve gone too far this time.” but as you watch him come undone before you, you don’t think you’ll be able to be the one who tells him no, anyway.

“i’m giving you one, and i mean one, last chance. if you fuck up this time, i promise you, you’ll never see me again,” you declare. you don't know what you’re expecting, really, but the sight of even more tears streaming down his face is not it. he grabs you and pulls you in his warm and trembling embrace.

“th-thank you,” he cries. “you won’t regret this.”

“i’d better not,” you mumble. even if you do, you can’t deny the way your heart skips a beat at his pure, unadulterated need for you. even if you do come to regret it, it’s impossible to look at him right now and say he’s not being sincere. he pulls away from you and hurriedly captures your mouth, and as if your next words will take back what you said, he seals them in your throat before you can manage to get anything more out. as the kiss becomes more heated, you feel something hard and angry poking into your stomach.

“already?” you tease. he actually blushes at this.

“can’t help it. need you,” he replies sheepishly.

“you need me, huh? is that why you’ve been so bad?” you ask, palming him deliciously through his pants.

“n-not bad! just love you so much, couldn’t stop myself.” your temper actually flares a little at this. you palm him more harshly and his breath catches when you do.

“really? but you’ve been so bad, i don’t think you deserve me,” you say menacingly, pulling your hand away. he audibly whimpers at this.

“no, no, no, please! i’ll be good from now on,” he pleads as he grabs your hand and begins to snake it under the waistband of his pants. you let him, but you don’t take his hardened length into your hand like you usually would. instead, you tease the sensitive area around it, even going so far as to ghost your fingers over his balls, but you conveniently avoid giving him any sort of friction or attention, so he’s gasping when you give him a mean and unexpected tug.

“p-please stop teasing me,” he cries, eyes so beautiful and watery. “i know i’ve been bad, but i can make you feel so good.” he’s right, in a way. you’ve never and will never feel as good as you do when beomgyu pumps into you and shoots his hot load in your pussy, but he’s deranged if he thinks you’ll let him have you so easily tonight. not after what he’s done.

“hmm, i’m not so sure about that,” you hum. you lead him to your bedroom as if he’s hypnotized. you haven’t even let him enter you yet, if you’re going to let him do so at all, but he’s already acting like he’s drunk on you.

“strip,” you command simply. without any questions or doubts, he eagerly takes off his hoodie and shoves his pants down, stepping out of them and closer to you. it’s sickeningly sweet to see how possessed he is by you. he tries to take your own clothes off, but you smack his hand away.

“bad boy,” you say, and he whines like a dog. “lay down.” he does what you say, lying completely exposed on your bed as he gives a few pulls on his throbbing cock. “stop fucking touching yourself or you’re not getting anything from me,” you add, and he whines even louder.

“please touch me,” he begs, cock standing all red and weeping.

“you don’t deserve it,” you shrug. you take off your pants and he leches at the image of your pussy dripping wet for him, and so soon. all he can think about is how warm it is and how fervently he wants to be in it. he thinks you’re going to sit on his cock, because that would be the most natural course of action, but all you do is lay next to him and pull something out of your nightstand drawer. a vibrator. are you fucking serious?

“no!” he begs, already knowing how this is going to go.

“you can take what you get from me or you can beat it,” you bite back. that shuts him up. he’s biting his lip, trying not to get scolded again, but he can’t help but whine again when you spread your legs and turn your vibrator on.

“ah,” you moan as the rubber tip hits your clit. “feels so good.”

“i’d feel better,” he insists, eyes widened and desperate like a madman.

“touch yourself,” you say in response. “i'm not touching that dirty cock of yours, so take care of it yourself.” he doesn’t need to be told twice. he immediately spits on his hand and begins to wildly jerk his weeping cock. he whines at the friction. you, however, are so lost in the feeling of the vibrations pulsating throughout your pussy, you couldn’t seem to care less about what he does. this only makes him whine even louder. he’s experiencing pleasure, sure, but the sounds coming from him are exaggerated and theatrical. he’s just trying to get a rise out of you. he just wants you to look at him, is that too much to ask?

you open your eyes at his petulant noise and say your next words so quietly, if he wasn’t paying more attention, he’d miss them. “kiss me.” so he does. the kiss is filthy and nothing more than the tangling of tongues, but that combined with the stimulation on your poor pussy is enough to make you near the edge.

beomgyu can tell you’re close, and his kisses become even more heated as he abuses his cock under his hand. he’s moaning into your mouth, showing you, in no uncertain terms, just how badly he wants to be in you instead.

“let me do it,” he begs. “come around me, instead. it’ll feel so much better.” his dirty words break you out of your trance and you annoyedly shut the vibrator off while tossing it god knows where. you tear his hand away from his cock and mount him, teasingly rubbing yourself against him, but refusing to put it in. he whines and pouts, but you’re far too busy trying to get yourself off to appease him. then, as if he’s possessed, he raises his hips and his tip catches on your entrance. you both gasp at his shallow intrusion.

“p-please sit on it, it hurts,” he asks rather pathetically.

“i can’t, beomie. you haven’t even fingered me yet — you’ll break me in half,” you say provocatively. he whimpers at the imagery. “and you've been so bad, how can i let you get what you want? you’ll never learn if i do that.”

“i’ve learned! i promise, i’ve learned! just, please, help me,” he cries, bucking his hips up and holding your waist so hard you’ll know he’ll leave bruises.

“mmm, i don’t knowwww,” you drawl.

“please!” and with that, you angle your hips and begin to sink on his thick length. the stretch burns and you can’t help but cry out as you feel your pussy enveloping every inch of him mercilessly. he’s in tears when he feels you throbbing around him, pussy stretching to accommodate how big he is. when you finally, finally take him all in, he can’t help but begin to fuck into you wantonly.

“b-beomie, slow down!”

“c-can’t! feels so good,” he says, tears streaming down his pretty face. he grabs your waist even tighter and flips you around so you’re lying beneath him. his cock continues to hammer into you and you’re seeing stars. his mouth is open, drool pooling out of the corners of his lips, and he’s moaning out your name like a prayer.

“pussy so good, so perfect,” he babbles. “missed this. missed feeling you like this.”

“i missed it too,” you admit.

“wanted you, wanted you for so long,” he continues. you don’t even think he knows what he’s saying, but you can tell he means every word. he reaches to your stomach and presses down where his cock is ramming into you. your eyes roll back at the pleasure that comes with the pressure.

“my baby could be in here,” he muses. “our baby.” this should scare you into sobriety, but it does nothing of the sort. you find yourself tightening even further at the thought of him breeding you like a bitch.

“i’ll take care of you, i swear,” he says as he thrusts so hard your head nearly meets the headboard. “i’ll give you everything you need. sh-shit, baby, wanna fill you up so good you feel me for days,” those words in addition to his sloppy thrusts are what send you over the edge. you clench around him and he hisses at how you’re even tighter than usual. you feel his thrusts become even more sporadic and he’s emptying himself into you unceremoniously. as he softens, he pulls out and you wince at the feeling. to your surprise, he moves down to your pussy and begins to lap up all of the cum like a starving animal. then, he pulls you in for one last nasty kiss.

you don’t know if you necessarily trust beomgyu, but it’s hard not to at least try to when he basically prostrates himself in front of you on a daily basis. he lets you walk all over him, really. if you call him, he comes running. if you’re mad or upset, he soothes you. when you’re being unreasonable, he reasons, anyway. you still haven’t heard from your friends, but you’re starting to accept the fact that you never will. he introduces you to his friends, and surprisingly, they actually welcome you with open arms. apparently, they didn’t like hana very much and knew beomgyu always had a thing for you. you’re not sure how to feel about that, but you’re flattered, nonetheless.

you call beomgyu crazy, and maybe he is, but he always says it's because he's crazy in love with you. you want to playfully smack him when he says such cheesy words, but you're starting to really believe him.

#supermodel #niningtori #beomgyu smut #beomgyu angst #beomgyu hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt smut #txt angst #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu hard hours #mdni

674 notes · View notes

emmyrosee · 1 month

Note

So Urm just a thought u got any…. Deep non curse sukuna angst I think it’s a good day to cry.

-anon🥢

Sukuna is nothing if not self sabotaging.

Things with you have been good. Borderline perfect; you’re the missing piece to the life he’s cursed to live, where he’s always self aware of his weaknesses and takes them out on those around him. There is no blessing, not when all he does it hurt. It’s a miracle yuuji and choso deal with his shit enough, he knows they should’ve dropped him off the face of the earth with the pain he causes.

Now, it seems, it’s your turn.

Your turn to be on the receiving end of his fury, his rage and heartbreak, your only chance to escape being to leave him; maybe that’s all he wants: you to leave him.

He stopped calling you. Stopped answering texts. When his brothers and parents ask about you, he merely stays silent, opting against making you sound more divine than they know you are.

You’re perfect. You’re not for him.

Theres a pounding on the door that goes unanswered by everyone in the house, and he groans as he gets up to answer it, only to reveal your frame in the door.

You look distraught. You’re angry, he can see that in your eyes, there’s a betrayal buried deep in them. Your face holds a scowl and your breathing picks up at the sight of him.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Sukuna rolls his eyes and walks away from the open door, knowing you’ll follow him no matter what. “So?”

“So?” You ask, offended. “You and I are supposed to be in love, supposed to be partners in crime-“

“Im hearing a lot of ‘supposed to be,’ and not a lot of ‘have to be’” he snaps. He hears you take a breath to say something, but you don’t. He screws his eyes shut. “Get over it. I didn’t sign a contract with my blood saying I have to come to your every beck and call.”

“Sukuna. Stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Being an asshole,” you say firmly. “Let me in. I’m here. What’s going on?”

“I’m sick of you.”

At his blunt words, you gasp, and sukuna feels the bile rise up his throat. He’ll do anything though. Anything to make you stop loving him. “What…?”

“I’m sick. Of you,” he echos. “You checking up on me, demanding we go out, flaunting me off to your friends like I’m some damn trophy-“

“Because I love you!” You hiss. “I want to show you off, make the world see how lucky I am to have you!”

“‘Show me off?’” He cackles, spinning on his heel to face you. “There’s nothing to show. I am nothing to you. You, are nothing to me.”

You reel back at his words, waterline swelling with tears as you are wounded by his words. “You think because I take you out on a few dates, we kissed a little and I held that little hand of yours, that you’re anything special to me?” He shakes his head with a cruel chuckle, “I’ve done that to every broad I’ve ever been with. You’re not special. Never were anything more than a body to me.”

You puff out your chest like an animal trying to protect itself, “then what about the nights we cuddled?” You demand. “What about our late night trips to McDonald’s or 7/11? What about the nights you cried in my chest about your miseries and hardships, and I carded your hair and cradled you close to my body?”

“What about them!” He yells, the cracks in his confidents breaking. Those moments mean the world to him, and for him to now force you to use them against him has his blood running cold. “Yeah, I let you see the softer bits of me. Who cares?”

“I do!” You wail. “Because it made me think, for one second, that we could be something special! Something we earned and worked for together!”

“I think you forget,” he snarls, “I lived a fine life without you in it. We can go right fucking back the minute you started thinking this bullshit.”

You flinch at the harshness of his words. It’s working. Sukuna feels it. The love you have for him dwindling, the connection being frayed and severed with every pass of his words-

“Then do it,” you whisper. “If your life was so great loveless, then go back. But just know, I’ll never stop loving you. Ever. You’ll never have the peace of the freedom of heartbreak when it comes to me.”

With that, you take a step back, followed by another, but your eyes never leave his. Your bottom lip wobbles and you grab your coat over the back of his chair. He watches as you cover your mouth with your hand before dashing out, slamming the door behind you and leaving a trail of tears. His eyes are fixed on the door that’s finally stopped shaking on its hinges from the slam, as if waiting for you to sweep back in and demand his love, demand him to care and want you back.

But it doesn’t come. You don’t come back.

He can’t fight the urge to swipe everything off the counter with his arms in a fury, plates and cups flying off and shattering under the force. He pants like a voracious beast, angry and predatory, but he’s grounded as he steps on a shard of crystal from his mom’s wine glass.

And now, rather than chase you down the street, begging for your forgiveness, he sits down, using his hands to pick up the bigger shards. There’s an unfamiliar trickling down his cheek of hot tears, one splatters to the floor, and that’s it. Sukuna, with the monster he worked so hard to keep at bay, ruins another paradise in his life.

He cries alone.

All alone.

695 notes · View notes

angels-fantasy · 2 months

Note

hi!! i really like your work and i was wondering if you could do like a katsuki bakugou x reader where bakugou is putting the reader at risk of being harmed because of her being one of his loved ones and then bakugou purposely fights with the reader and then just walks out on her thinking it’s for the better and then a couple weeks later the reader finds out she’s pregnant and keeps the child a secret for a couple years until she runs into bakugou and then he wants a do-over or something like that 🥹

Second Chances (Request)

Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader

Details/Warnings: CW: Pregnancy Cw: Children, some angst, domestic fluff, dad bakugou, also soft bakugou hahaha.

Word Count: 2.9k

this idea is SOOOO cute i love it sm and it was really fun writing this. i hope i did your idea justice!! thank you sm for requesting anon :D i literally got so excited when i saw it got a request hehehe

Getting with Katsuki Bakugou was a dream come true. You two had been through thick and thin, and you had it all. Great jobs, a home together, and a strong relationship. Everything seemed perfect in your eyes, until one day Katsuki decided it wasn't enough for him.

Well, it was enough for him. It was more than enough actually. He loved you with all his heart and wanted a future with you, but doing that would put you at risk.

Ever since he was a little boy and dreamed of being a hero, he was warned of the risks the job came with. Not only would he be in great danger, but his loved ones too.

For a long time he believed he was strong enough to take on the world and every villain it had, no matter the threats they made towards him.

In his entire career, no villain had ever threatened a loved one of his, until recently. A damned villain had brought you up in the midst of the fight, spewing all kinds of bullshit he'd do to you that Katsuki would never want to even imagine.

For the first time in a long time, Katsuki reached a breaking point.

The disgusting things that villain said about you made him realize that he couldn't continue putting you in danger like this, so he had to find a way to end things.

He knew you wouldn't accept the real reasoning behind the break up, so he had to come up with something else.

You sat across the kitchen table from Katsuki with tears filled in your eyes. Seeing you like this hurt him more than ever, but he had to stay strong.

"How could this not be enough for you Katsuki?" You cried, "How could I not be enough for you?"

He looked down at the table to avoid your broken expression, "How else am I supposed to fuckin' say it huh? I don't wanna be with you anymore."

You shook your head, "Stop looking at the table and look at me when you say that. If you can look me in the eyes and tell me you really don't want to be with me, then you can leave."

It took everything left in Katsuki to lift his head up and look you in your eyes. He tried his best to put on a poker face, but you both knew it wasn't working.

"I don't want to be with you anymore."

Your face scrunched up slightly as you held back tears. "Okay Katsuki. If that's what you really want."

...

Having to hear Katsuki move out of your apartment was just another reminder of your relationship crumbling right before you, and it felt like the end of the world.

You don't know how long you laid in bed crying silently, but suddenly you heard Katsuki's voice from the door of your bedroom.

"I'm leaving now." He said quietly.

You played with a thread on the pillow next to you, choosing to ignore him.

He shuffled awkwardly at your silence. "Um, Bye. I guess."

"Bye Katsuki." You said quietly.

You stayed quiet until you heard the front door shut behind him, then you let yourself cry.

...

It was almost two months later, and you were starting to feel a bit better about the break up. It was hard sometimes, but you had a good support system and kept yourself busy.

Now though you were feeling better emotionally, you weren't really feeling well physically.

When you confided in your best friend about this, she told you words you really didn't want to hear.

"Maybe you're pregnant?" Uraraka suggested after hearing your symptoms.

You shook your head, "No way! And if I am, that's horrible! I can't raise a baby by myself. That's a two person job..."

She stayed quiet, now feeling a bit awkward when she remembered the messy breakup between you and Katsuki.

"I'd be here for you, you know that right?" She said and wrapped her arms around you. "I should have a few tests in my bathroom, do you wanna go take some?"

You bit your lip in thought. "I dunno. I'm scared."

She leaned her head on your shoulder, "I'll be with you every step of the way. You're my best friend okay? You should take the test sooner than later so that way if you are pregnant, you can start taking care of yourself and the baby."

You leaned your head on hers, "You're right. I'll do it."

Moments later after peeing on three sticks and looking at the results, you felt your heart drop to your stomach.

You opened the door and faced Uraraka, who was pacing in anticipation.

"Well? What does it say?!" She asked.

You held up one of the tests, "Looks like I gotta start eating for two."

...

5 years later

After finding out you were pregnant five years ago, you decided you weren't going to tell Katsuki. Maybe it was wrong, but you didn't care.

He had made it very clear he didn't want to be with you anymore, and you weren't going to hold him back from whatever plans he had.

You had also decided it'd be a good idea to move out of Musutafu, at least an hour away from him and anyone else that knows him. You didn't want the word of you having his child spreading around and eventually reaching him.

The only person you told were your parents and Uraraka, who promised she'd keep it a secret from Katsuki and everyone associated with him. The two of you kept in touch and she would occasionally visit you when she wasn't busy with hero work.

So now here you were with your 4-year old little girl, Keiko. She had some of your features, but of course her father's genes overshadowed yours despite him not even being in the picture.

The biggest resemblance between them was their eyes, which you hated temporarily, but grew to love again because of her.

"Mama! Mama!" Keiko called from the top of the slide, "Come play with me!"

You stood up from the bench with a sigh and made your way over to the bottom of the slide. "Okay Koko but be careful up there! I don't want you to get hurt."

She shook her head and scrunched up her face, "I'm strong! I don't get hurt Mama!" and then slid down to meet you at the bottom.

Once she got there, she slid into your legs and got surprised at the light impact but giggled anyways.

You reached down and picked her up, "What are you laughing at huh Koko?" You asked and tickled her.

She continued laughing her little heart out and you smiled at her, loving to see your daughter in such a good mood.

A few hours later, you found yourselves at the grocery store, shopping for new snacks Keiko could take to school.

You held up a pack of yogurt cups to your daughter, who was sitting in the basket.

"You want some of these baby? They have blueberry and strawberry flavor."

"I want blueberry!" She said.

You nodded, "Good choice."

The two of you continued shopping around for a few more minutes, until you felt your heart stop.

Down the same aisle, you saw none other than Katsuki Bakugou.

Just as you tried to quickly turn around, your precious child couldn't help but yell -

"Dynamight!"

Groaning in frustration at your daughter, though you knew it wasn't her fault (He just so happened to be her favorite hero, despite not even knowing he was her father), you tried your best to keep walking away but it was already too late.

You heard him yell out your name, and you quickly grabbed Keiko, abandoning the shopping cart in the process and you began making your way out of the store as fast as you could.

Katsuki, who noticed you and your daughter, did the same and began following you.

Once you were outside, you looked over your shoulder and called out, "Get away from me!

Keiko fussed in your arms at your loud voice, wondering what was happening and why her mother was running away from a hero.

Finally getting to your car, Katsuki was hovering over you as you put your daughter in her car seat.

"Is she mine?" He asked, out of breath from walking fast.

"No."

"You think I'm an idiot or somethin'?" He asked, "She looks just like me and you expect me to believe that?"

You kissed Keiko on the forehead, "I'm gonna talk to the crazy man real quick okay baby? Just wait here."

She nodded and played with her fingers. You shut the door and leaned against it, facing Katsuki.

"Leave us alone. I don't want anything to do with you, okay?" You said sternly, trying not to cry.

His eyebrows furrowed, "When we ended things... were you pregnant?"

You stayed quiet for a moment before answering.

"I didn't find out until a month later."

He let out a breath and put his hands on his face. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me? I would've been there for you, even if we weren't together."

His words angered you, "Why does it take me being pregnant for you to think about being there for me? I still needed you there when you left, but you wanted nothing to do with me!"

"I had to do it! You don't understand, okay?" He yelled.

You put a finger in his face, "Stop raising your voice at me like that. Keiko can probably hear you."

He grew quiet, "Her name is Keiko?"

"Yeah."

He looked at the ground, "Can I get to know her more? Please. There's no way I can live my life knowing I have a kid that I'm not there for."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek. "Okay, fine. I'll give you my number and we can talk about the details later."

"Thank you." He sighed, "Thank you so much. I'm gonna do my best for her, and for you too."

"This isn't about me."

"I don't care. It's what I want to do. It's what I need to do."

"Just give me your phone so I can put my number in."

He fished his phone out of his pocked and unlocked it, handing it to you. While you added your contact, he asked "What does she like? I want to get her something."

"Well she likes heroes, her favorite animal is a seal, and she likes crowns, because she wants to be a king." You said with a smile.

"Not a queen?" He smirked.

You shook your head. "Nah, she says 'king' sounds cooler."

He laughed, "That's definitely my kid."

...

After the accidental meet up with Katsuki, Keiko asked a million questions but you answered as if you didn't know him, and eventually she lost interest.

You decided not to tell anyone about what happened, just incase he decided to leave again. You also didn't want to tell Keiko yet, because you didn't want her to grow attached to him.

She knew her father wasn't in the picture, but she didn't fully understand why yet. You would explain it to her when she got older and grew more curious about who he is.

You had also found out why Katsuki was in your city, and apparently it was because he was visiting some family members (by force of his mother).

It was now a few days later, and you and Katsuki decided to meet up, along with Keiko. You wanted to meet him in public, but he said that was a bad idea because he'd get recognized, so you reluctantly agreed to allow him into your home.

"Keikooo" You cooed, "We have a visitor today."

She looked up from her toys and brushed her hair out of her face, "Who Mama?"

Just then, the doorbell rang. "There he is! Do you wanna go open the door?"

She nodded and skipped down the hall and to the front door, looking back at you for the okay before opening the door.

When she did, she gasped "Dynamight! What are you doing at my house?"

Katsuki laughed, "I came to see you and your Mama, if that's alright with you little lady."

She smiled and opened the door wider, allowing him to walk in. "What's in that bag, Dynamight?"

"It's actually something for you." He said and handed it to her.

She squealed and dragged the large bag behind her to the couch, where she quickly dug inside of it and pulled out a large seal plushie with a crown on it.

"It's a king seal!" She said in awe.

You smiled and sat next to her on the couch, "What do you say Koko?"

She hugged the seal, "Thank you so much! I need to name him..."

Katsuki laughed and ruffled her hair, "You're welcome kid. Maybe we can come up with names later." He then handed you a small bag, from who knows where, and urged you to open it.

You raised a brow but opened it anyways. Inside, there was a jewelry box, and inside that there was a necklace with three small flowers aligned together. It was simple, but pretty.

"You didn't have to get me anything..." You said while admiring the necklace.

He shrugged, "I know, but I wanted to."

You smiled.

...

For the next few months, things continued on that way. The three of you would meet up, Katsuki occasionally bringing you and your daughter gifts no matter how many times you said you didn't want one, and actually enjoying time together.

Currently, Keiko was being carried to bed by Katsuki. She was all tuckered out from today's session of hero and villain (she was the hero, of course).

When Katsuki came back to the living room, he slumped onto the couch next to you and sighed. "Damn, that kid has so much energy."

You laughed, "Tell me about it. It was even worse when I was actually carrying her. She was a kicker."

Katsuki looked over at you, "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

You continued looking forward, "It's fine. You didn't even know, Katsuki."

He smiled slightly at you using his first name, just like he did every time you used it.

"Y'know, I was thinking-"

"Uh oh." You teased.

He tsked and continued on, "I wanna start over again."

You froze, what the hell was he saying?

"Look, I know you're hesitant to and I understand why." He said and slowly grabbed your hand, holding it tenderly in his. "But I'm being serious when I say I haven't been with anyone since you. I still love you and I always have. And now that Koko is here, I love her too and I want to be in her life everyday."

Your lip began to shake, "If you loved me, why did you leave me?"

"Baby I was being stupid. I-I got into a fight with this villain, and he threatened you. I thought that my job was putting you in danger and I didn't want to take any risks, so I broke things off."

The tears were now falling, "You're such an idiot, you know that?"

"I do know. I'm sorry." He said and stroked your cheek, "I'm so fucking sorry for hurting you and not being there for you and Keiko. But please, please let me be here now."

You cried harder and leaned into his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. That wound he left behind all those years ago was now a scar that still hurts. But so far, being with him these last few months has eased the pain.

"I love you" You cried, "I want you to be here now. For me and for Keiko."

He let out the biggest sigh of relief in years.

...

3 years later

"Keiko! Stop putting cheese on your brother!" Katsuki yelled across the kitchen.

Your now 7-year old daughter pouted and bit into a slice of cheese, "But he likes it!"

Your son, who was a year old, laid on the floor of the living room and laughed at his sister while chewing on his fingers.

After that talk you and Katsuki had, you began seeing each other again. It was hard at first, but he proved himself to you in every way he could.

You two also told Keiko he was her father, and she was confused at first but after a long talk and even some tears, she understood and quickly accepted he was her father.

She also loved being able to say Dynamight was her dad.

She also manifested her quirk, which was of course, the same as Katsuki's. When it first manifested, there was a random boom! that came from her bedroom, and when you two ran in, she was covered in soot and her doll was blown up.

Though instead of crying, she cheered in victory, which Katsuki found extremely funny.

Now for your second pregnancy, that was a surprise, just like your first one. Despite this, you two were still happy about it and decided to move into a bigger house together.

Hiroki looked a lot like his father, of course. But this time, he had your eye color which you were thankful for considering you carried him for almost 9 months.

"Keiko why would you put cheese on Hiroki?" You asked as you walked into the living room.

She shrugged and ate another slice.

"That kid is crazy, that's why." Katsuki said.

She quickly turned around, "No I'm not! You're crazy! Poop face!"

"Hey!" You said, "Don't call your dad poop face. That's not nice."

She grumbled a 'sorry' and went back to eating the cheese slices off of Hiroki.

You smiled and shook your head at your families antics. They could be a bit much, and they had explosive personalities (literally) but you loved them either way.

Maybe second chances weren't so bad.

authors note

this was so so fun! again, thank you for requesting 🩷 if anyone else has ideas or requests, feel free to send em!

i hope you liked this 😸

#fanfiction #@angels-fantasy #fanfic #anime #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #cw pregnancy #cw children #dad bakugou #bakugou x fem!reader

770 notes · View notes

jyoongim · 2 months

Note

i saw this one story of urs where it was alastor and vox sister reader, and im OBSESSEDDDD I LOVE UR STORIES!!

im obsessed with the trope of two rivals then one courts the others family member, its so good!! so, in honor of my love for this trope..

alastor rearranging the readers guts and broadcasting it for all of hell to hear, including vox. OR, even better, using vox’s own technology to broadcast it for all of hell to WATCH! i want the reader crying, glitching out and begging from overstimulation, and possibly even overheating from it. and maybe a bit of praise and degradation? pretty please? :3

your new anon, pixie 🤍🌸

Warnings: Vox!Sister!Reader x Alastor, in love with the enemy trope, Smut! Overstimulation, begging, praise/degradation, slight humiliation, taunting

Think of reader like a humanoid robot

——————————————————————————————-

Vox had always made sure that you stayed clear of Alastor.

He didnt want the Radio head anywhere near you.

You were his little sister and he would be damned if that old-timely prick got his hands on you.You felt bad for your brother, he was trying to protect you after all, but you were a big girl and could handle your own affairs.

Vox had warned you against getting close to the Radio Demon multiple times, and while at first you listened, Alastor had found you quite interesting. Being Vox’s sister was just a bonus, he liked seeing Vox growl in disapproval or take you away from the red demon’s prying eyes.

Alastor had been making Vox’s life feel like a whirlpool with the constant close proximity he had with you and then turning around to belittle him for all of Hell to hear.

But you liked the attention the red demon gave you.

It was the first time in satan knows how long, that someone wasn’t terrified of Vox and his influence and you could just feel appreciated.

Alastor was a gentleman. He took the time to get to know you and after a while you accepted his advances.

You didnt have the heart to tell Vox.

I mean what would you tell him?

’oh yea by the way! I’ve been seeing Alastor behind your back even though I know you hate his guts’

You really wanted him to at least tolerate Alastor as your partner.

”What’s on your mind doll?” a rough low voice said, making you blink out of your headspace.

Alastor tilted his head as you smiled ”oh its nothing. Just wished that my brother didnt hate you. You’re not as bad as he says you are”

Alastor chuckled. The two of you had been seeing each other behind the Televison’s back and it gave Alastor so much joy of the thrill knowing you fancied him enough to go against your brother.

He rubbed your thighs reassuringly as he pressed a soft kiss to your pouty lips. “Oh really?” He smirked.

You shook your head, not wanting to think about it anymore. To shift the mood, you tangled your fingers in his fluffy locks, pulling him back to your mouth.

The two of you were in his radio tower for a late night rendezvous.

Vox would blow a fuse if he knew you had snuck out of headquarters to see the red demon.

You pressed your body against his, grinding your hips against the hard bump in Alastor’s pants. You smirked against his lips “aww you missed me that much?” Alastor growled lowly as he dug his claws in your soft skin.

Most secret nights were spent having intense make out sessions and heavy petting.

But you wanted to go further, it was always Alastor who stopped before the two of you could go any further.

You slipped from his lap, to situate yourself between his thighs. Your hands fumbled with his belt and right when your fingers pulled at the band of his boxers, Alastor stopped you.

”I think its quite late to indulge in such activities dearest”

You pouted up at him, eyes swirling up at him “I just want to make you feel good too…don’t you want to fuck me Al?”

You nuzzled your nose against his erection, purring “I don’t know when Vox’ll let me out again”

How he resist when you looked so cute peppering kisses to his cock?

He let out a groan and when he didnt protest any further, you pulled until his cock sprang from its confines and slapped against your lips.

You took ahold of the girthy length and stroked it a few times before wrapping your lips around the tip.

Alastor sighed as you swirled your tongue on the tip of his cock, giving it kitten licks before taking him whole.

You bobbed your head happily, sending vibrations along his length as you sucked.

A hand wrapped in your hair,pushing you further down until you gurgled around him.

Alastor’s cock twitched in your throat as he looked down at you.

Oh what a pretty thing you were…

He snatched you off him, ignoring your whine when he pulled you back into his lap. He grinned at you. You were buzzing, skin flushed. He pulled you close to his face “seems you’ve convinced me enough to indulge you my dear”

A hand made its way under your dress, toying with your panties.

”To think your brother thinks he can keep you away from me” he chuckled as a finger caressed your puffy clit. You let out a low gasp, leaning into him as he played with your pussy.

You jolted when a finger slid into your warm heat, curling along your gummy walls. You mewled in his shoulder, grinding into his hand. Alastor grinned as your sticky slick dripped onto his hand, adding a second finger, he curled them into your walls, stretching you out.

His lips pressed into your exposed shoulder, sharp teeth nipping ”you’ll be a good girl for me wont you doll?” You nodded and gasped as he slipped his fingers out of you and picked you up to lay you across his control panel.

He grinned above you as he pulled at your dress. Your full tits spilled, nipples perking as they were exposed to the cool air.

You threw your head back as he pinched and twisted the peaks, letting out a ragged moan when his hot mouth enveloped the mound, switching between the two, sucking on your nipples like a babe seeking milk

“Ooh-Ah” you sighed when he tugged a nipple with his teeth.

Alastor grinded his cock against your smoldering heat, coating him in your essence.

His lips released your tit and trailed up to litter your collarbone and neck in kisses. You blinked when his face appeared in your vision.

You gave him a soft smile and hooked your legs around his waist.

You were tingling with excitement. The buttons on his control panel dug into your back, but you were focused on the demon looming over you.

”I fear your brother will be furious if he discovered our treachery”

He was givin you one last chance to change your mind, but at this moment all you wanted was the pleasure that he could grant you.

So you threw caution to the wind

You angled your hips so his cock catch your clit, pulling him by his collar

“Fuck Vox”

He grinned and when he slotted his lips against yours, he thrusted into you, swallowing your groan as he stretched your cunt.

Unbeknownst to you, Alastor had turned his radio frequency on.

You were unaware that he was now broadcasting his defilement of you.

Voxtech’s pampered princess.

”A-Ala..Oh fuck!” You moaned in his neck as he filled you.

Alastor groaned in your ear “you take me so well darlin hehe i knew you would” bottoming out til his balls rested on the curve of your ass.

Your face was buried in his neck, body tingling as your systems ran haywire.

But when he pulled his hips back and pushed again and again and again you couldn’t stop the airy gasps that left your throat.

Your cunt clenched around his cock as he buried himself in you, soft grunts rattling in his throat as he pushed your hips deeper into the control panel. You were sure you’ll have the marks afterwards from how hard he was pummeling into you but that was a matter to be concerned with later.

A hand wrapped around your locks, pulling your face from his neck to look at him. Your lip was caught between your teeth, trying to contain the depraved sounds that bubbled in your chest. Your face was flushed and your eyes were blown.

Alastor peppered your heated face with kisses, whispering perverted nothings against your skin as he rutted up into you.

”Seven hells this cunt is perfect fuck! you look so pretty doll. My pretty girl. This what you wanted isn’t it? Hmm? You wanted me to take you didnt you doll?”

High pitch whines left your throat as his pace quickened.

”A-Al p-please oh fuck oh fuck I’m gonna ah!” Your cunt gushed and squeezed as your orgasm wrecked through your system.

Alastor sneered in your face, eyes narrowed as your face contorted in pleasure “That’s right doll cum on my cock. That’s a good girl. Such a good little slut”

You let out a cry as your systems buzzed as you creamed his cock.

You slumped against his chest, panting as your body shook.

”oh sweetheart I’m not done with you”

Vox was fuming.

How dare that insufferable loser take over his systems!

He was trying to gain control over the frequencies when he froze at the sound of your voice.

”Alastor oh fuck!” Your voice ranged out on the monitors.

No No No No NO!

FUCK NO!

Vox watched in horror as his baby sister cried out in ecstasy.

”Sir the channels are blocked how would you like me-”

”GET THE FUCK OUT!” He roared.

Vox sat in his chair and plugged various cables into his import.

He would be damned if anyone else saw you in such a disgraceful state. He checked every monitor in the city and shut the system down. He limited it to only Voxtech headquarters.

”that’s a good little slut”

Vox growled as the systems glitched and became distorted.

”P-please please please! Al no more” tears streamed down your face as blue sparks flew from your systems.

Your legs trembled as the red demon pounded into you.

Your body jolted against his control panel as your claws ripped through the metal.

”You can take a little more can’t you doll?” Alastor asked as he worked you through another orgasm.

Your body was covered in sweat and your systems were working overtime to prevent you from overheating.

Alastor’s cock twitched as your core heated up. It was like being surrounded by molten goo. Your cum was dripping down your legs and coating his length.

You cried out as his cock get that sweet spot inside you, the sound of your cunt squelching and his skin hitting yours radiated through the room.

”I wonder how far I can push your systems dear. Youve got such a pretty pussy, wonder how much of my cum you can take”

Every word had you clenching around him.

”Allllllll” you whined as your system started to glitch, a warning ding ringing in your head.

”You like me ruining you don’t you doll? What would your dear brother say if he saw you taking the cock of the radio demon? I can’t wait to see the look on his face when I send you back to him filled with my cum, oooh yes would you like that pretty doll? To go back home stuffed with my cum hmmm?”

”too m-uch oh fuck fuck fuck Al! Ah! Please please I t-think I’m-I’m gonna OH!” Your body seized as you glitched out, sparks flying and the lights on the control panel flickered as Alastor tore your orgasm from you. A cry ripped for your lips as your eyes dimmed, systems shutting down as you milked his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him.

Alastor came with a growl as he painted your heated walls white, humming in satisfaction when your body went limp and a soft beeping came from you.

With a squish, he pulled his cock out of you and watched as his cum dripped out of you.

He watched as you slid from the panel and into a heap on the floor. Your body convulsed and twitched as your eyes glowed on and off, a soft static coming from you. He hummed and grinned as Vox appeared across your eyes.

”Hello old pal enjoy the show? Hope you don’t mind the little dear coming home late she’s a bite worst for wares.”

Bright sparks flew from you as Vox tried to boot your systems back up.

”YOU FUCKING PRICK! I SWEAR I WILL KILL YOU!” Vox growled.

Alastor chuckled, before pulling your limp body to him. He angled your head so Vox could see him clearly and rested his head on your ass. He grinned when electricity ran through you, a protective measure no doubt, he leaned down to your used cunt and placed a soft kiss to your cunt, sucking it into his mouth.

Vox smashed his control panel and cursed when your systems sent a report of the mess you were.

“Hehe until next time old friend” Alastor crackled as he took over your systems, blocking Vox from having any access.

#hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox the tv demon

551 notes · View notes

taegularities · 5 months

Text

colour me in: blooming | jjk (m)

Summary: You're the flower blossoming in Jungkook's living room, no matter how relentless the rain. And you're the sun he tirelessly orbits — warm as a home.

➳ pairing: Jungkook x reader ➳ rating: 18+ ➳ genre: fwb/f2l, fake dating; hints of angst, fluff overload, suggestive ➳ warnings: full jk pov!, fluff fluff fluff, but also crying, bits of insecurities, mommy and daddy issues, their friendddsss <3, oc's favourite blanket smells like him <3, his feelings for her are consuming him in a gorgeous way 🥺, grocery shopping 🍏 and then a housewarming party, jk chocolate chip nips appreciation (oc pinches them lol), horniness, implied sex + implied boner, sexual tension, flirting and teasing and bickering, yearning, convos about their relationship/life, cooking together hehe, jk is so… jk, kissing/making out, the ending ♡ ➳ word count: 15.6k ➳ a/n: domesticity is my favourite city and i never wanna leave lol. i've genuinely been enjoying fluff more than i ever thought i would. this chapter made me so damn happy and i hope it has the same effect on you guys, too <3 let me know how you liked it; feedback is always appreciated 🥺 also, there are lil sub-headings to avoid confusion with the timeline!! enjoy!! 🤍 ➳ a/n2: even though i am a tiny bit late… happy birthday @jkaxl. love you so much, axelle <3 ➳ listen to: daylight by taylor swift (ty anon <3) | full collaborative playlist 🤍

SERIES MASTERPOST | TAGLIST MASTERLIST | WIPs

”Are you happy?”

“I’m… I’m adjusting to it all. It’s new. But so far I feel— relieved.”

“Okay.” He pauses. “I’m sorry I didn’t encourage that feeling earlier. But… you know. You found your way on your own, and somehow, I find that just as remarkable. If not so much more.”

“Thank you.”

Silence breaks the dialogue, but there are still shreds of unspoken words he’s not letting out yet. Right on the tip of his tongue, resting quietly; so you wait. Let your weary gaze slump to your lap, blinking until you hear a rustle and a—

“Do you want to come over sometime?”

You don’t know.

So you respond in just that uncertainty, “Maybe at some point? When it’s… not so overwhelming anymore.”

“I understand. Hey,” another break in his speech, “I’m proud of you.”

Your heart suspends for a fraction of a moment, but you feel the seething, searing pain. Fresh, clumping up your throat.

“…Thank you.”

THE SUNDAY AFTER THE PRESS CONFERENCE

When Jungkook locks the door, the apartment is quiet, but the living room light still glowing.

Still fired up and hot, the cool back of his hand pats his warm neck and cheek. Your name threatens to tumble off his tongue, but an oddly calm feeling advises against it. And as he carries his bag into the living room, setting it down next to a big flower pot you so wanted, he sees why.

Because you’re curled up on the couch, temple against the back of it, legs pulled in. Your favourite blanket — that you swear constantly smells like him — is draped half over you, falling off one of your shoulders.

You’re sound asleep.

Jungkook recognises the pout even from afar; lets his eyes drift from your face to the hand peeking out of the blanket. Brushing a piece of paper that is holding on for dear life, attempting not to slip off your lap.

What if he never moved? If he kept staring?

Back in college, one of his dearest professors used to say, “You know it’s art when even blinking feels like a waste of time. You don’t want to spend a second not looking at it.”

That very semester is still a major component of Jungkook’s memory. Ever since, he’s seen a handful and a dozen and a hundred pieces that matched the words once uttered.

Just, never as much as today.

The sky has obscured since he left two hours ago — he wonders how fast that time passed for you. Either way, he reckons you didn’t rest until your body forced you to. Because it’s not anywhere near bedtime; but the changes in your life constantly add to your exhaustion.

He wanted to help. He did all morning before you sent him away, arguing that, “You’re already doing too much. And you hate paperwork anyway!”

To which he expressed, “But I don’t hate you or having you here!”

“Just go!” You reached to his left nipple, poking it, and he, wearing a frisky smirk, instinctively threw a protective hand over it. “The muscles demand your attention desperately. Just don’t look at other girls’ butts, ‘kay?”

He chuckled.

You made it sound like a life-altering goodbye to a year-long journey instead of a brief trip to the gym. He nodded solemnly, nearly saluting as he agreed, “You’re right. Gonna make sure I’m able to crush you extra hard.”

But it seems you crushed and knocked yourself out well enough. And that after he sent out various emails with you, drafting and crafting a battle plan, googling salient issues and their solutions, and writing down lists of everything still left to do before you can actually move in.

The two of you are lucky the landlord is laid-back. Usually, they don’t let anyone move in so quickly; demand a couple months. And you’ll already be settling here officially the very next.

Not that it makes any difference.

You already spend your dusks and dawns here, clinging, reluctant to go home. And he won’t tell you to; he’d be a fool to. Plus, he hates his bed cold.

Jungkook’s steps are slow, muscles painful to the touch. He sweeps his tresses back as he nears your slumbering, balled up form, soon pressing a hand into the arm of the couch. Suppressing a groan, he leans in; frees your closed eye from a lock before he plants a kiss next to it.

You stir with the softest flutter of your eyelashes, just a teeny tiny bit.

God. You tilt his world off its axis.

“Baby,” he whispers.

It must be pulling you out of the remnants of your doze, because your muscles awaken, corners of your lips twitching. The movement of your legs finally pushes the paper off the blanket, and Jungkook hurries to catch it before it can drift to the floor; places it on the table.

He kneels; and for the briefest, smallest moments, you flinch when your pupils eventually align with his. Then, relaxation floods you anew, and you grip the blanket, sliding it back over you — only for it to glide down again.

You smile — a tired beam, accompanied by a sigh. Not quite wide, because you’re not fully there yet, but still so genuine. Stretching a little, you murmur, “You’re back.”

“And you’re still working,” he scolds, albeit cushioning his words by bringing a fingertip to your jaw. Flicking affectionately, softly. “Did you eat?”

“Mhmmm. But it’s—” Your hand taps for something, moving under the blanket; and a second later, you’re lighting up your phone, squinting at it. “It’s not late. Gonna eat with you again. I’m not that tired anymore.”

As if on cue, you yawn, tears of weariness collecting. You interrupt it with a gentle snicker and promise, “I mean it.”

The lopsided smile emerges on his features quickly. The drowsy, vulnerable tone in your voice caresses his heart like a gust… but the meaning behind it doesn’t pass by him so fast.

“Don’t overwork yourself, okay?” he repeats for the fifth time today alone; it’s become a constant habit. A reminder, like clockwork. “The body knows when you do.”

“No. I feel great.”

“Just. Be nice to yourself, munchkin.”

“I am,” you defend, attempting to stress the verb, but not quite getting there, “I am. Don’t worry so much.”

An impossible demand; but how would he explain it to you?

Despite the shake of his head, he still gives in, “Okay. I’ll shower and be back in a sec, yeah?”

He waits for your confirmation until you hum in unintelligible agreement, moving back in to plant a kiss on your forehead. Rushes to the shower, washes off today’s effort.

Wet hair strands pushed back, he finds you shuffling and organising the papers you read and filled in today, placing them neatly in the middle of the table. You look more awake now, delivering a content smile before heading to the kitchen with him.

Only, your mind might not be entirely unfogged yet — because your movements are slow. Different from how he handles the stir fry that the two of you cooked for lunch together.

You were proud of your creation — told Jungkook how you’re still far from the skills he possesses, but not bad to start with and improving every day. Seasoning better, understanding how to cut faster without hurting yourself in the process.

It’s lovely, watching the contentment spread in your eyes.

Yet, Jungkook always makes sure to stand close to your back, hands lifted, persistently ready to salvage the situation if need be.

But right now, judging from your clearly burdened brain, he bestowed a relatively simple task upon you. And you look so cute doing it — bun all messy, shoulders slumped, sporting (after stealing) his joggers since they’re so ridiculously comfortable, so get your own.

He side-eyes you every now and then, forbearing a chuckle; but when your lower lip juts in concentration, he can’t help but sling an arm around your waist. The jug containing the iced tea shakes, and you hold the glass carefully, voicing a little, “Oh— I… Kook.”

You’re wide-eyed and caught off guard; blinking when he tilts his head and leaves a kiss under your ear.

You raise your shoulder at the tickling sensation, and when you call his name again, your voice is reprimanding. But he could pick out the endearment even in his sleep.

That’s how it goes every hour of the day; sweet and new ever since you started frequenting his place even more often than before.

Something has occurred since the press conference. Two days only — but the universe has changed. Maybe it has expanded faster than ever and birthed a couple billion more stars, made even the nights brighter. He doesn’t know.

All he does recognise is that unnamed, newfound feeling spreading in his chest, and he’s been unblurring it. Bit by bit. Letting it take on a form that will soon consume him. He’s sure.

And soon, there’ll be a fitting word and definition matching this phenomenon, too.

It’s triggered by even the smallest things.

Like by the sound of your steps when you walk through the apartment. Or by the way you hum your favourite song all the time, unconsciously; then singing the line you hold dearest to your heart before resuming to the hum.

Trust in me when I say…

Or even… by how you’re facing him an hour later, satiated and cross-legged on the bed as you finish up today’s work.

You’ll have to notify the bank and whatnot of your move soon, so you need to brainstorm the relevant institutions that the new address and information will go to. It shouldn’t take too long; you’re diligent, so you’ll just be noting down all numbers next to the places you need to contact and then crash.

Jungkook soon takes over that task, lips moving as he reads the words, writes them down. And amidst the end-of-the-day chore, you crane your neck to read, and tell him, “You have such pretty handwriting.”

“So do you. I didn’t know you made circles over your lower case I’s,” he looks closer to where you scribbled, tapping the pen against a letter, “and awwh. The curves of the T’s!”

You giggle before you add, “I’ve heard a pretty handwriting symbolises inner beauty, by the way.”

“Ohh, so we’re both beautiful.”

“No doubt. We need to take more pictures… we look great together.”

That’s what’s been filling the hours of these days, too, Jungkook supposes. The airy, light atmosphere within the four walls he’s come to share with you. Laughter and shared glances, despite the stack awaiting you — because it signifies far more than paperwork.

Which is why it surprises him when a subtle switch occurs, suddenly and unannounced.

When he looks at your fingers lifting a paper, he can’t say what you’re seeing, but your ardour falters a little. Crooning dying, expression not matching the smile on the pictures you spoke of.

Delicately, you trace the edges of the document before putting it back down, aligning it with the rest of the pile. Pushing the whole thing to the side, you sigh, and he, a silent observer up to this moment, asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’re thinking about something. And I don’t like it when you’re quiet like this.”

“Oh… It’s nothing.” The shrug is subtle and unconvincing, and the tight shutting of your lips so telling to him. He senses the tension before you finally reveal, “Dad called today. And…” He waits; another shrug. “It’s nothing. He just asked how I was holding up. And that he’s sorry things had to escalate on Friday.”

Ah. Odd.

Jungkook would never say it to you: Because he has never been one to talk families down, sever a bond by voicing his opinion, even if the relationship’s already hanging by a thread. No… he’d never say it to you.

But.

There’s a dull realisation in the back of his mind; and it evokes quiet anger in him. That… there was always a potential anchor inhabiting the same house as you, but never serving as one.

Hidden behind your mother’s back, letting it all pass — probably for you to build character.

Jungkook has always assumed that his dad did just that, too. Throwing him into the world without support, letting a seemingly irresponsible teenager, and then young adult, experience hardships in order to learn how to deal with them.

In contrast to your father, his dad wouldn’t apologise to him… yet, in the end, morally and emotionally, both your families fucked up big time.

“Oh…”

You nod, elaborating, “He wanted to know if I was going to visit him. But I need a bit of time.”

Right… thinking about it, you haven’t seen your father in a while. And your mother hasn’t blown up your phone since Friday evening — when you came out of the glass building, with equally glassy yet hopeful eyes.

You truly must have let off steam in there for her to back away.

“Is that why you were saying you’ll be rushing to the house after work?”

Because as far as he recalls, you’ve been talking about gathering your stuff immediately after working hours — or on Saturday mornings. Never any other time. Because you know they won’t be at home then.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “I feel horrible neglecting him like that, because he seems to be glad that I’m happy, but…”

Your lips point downward; you clear your throat, but it doesn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “I just wish he’d defended me sometimes. Dunno. Maybe he did and I just don’t know about it? And it never worked? It’s what I like to think.”

God…

“Because,” you continue your vent, “he was strict but not like her, and… Sometimes he did recognise bullshit when he saw it. I’d hear them talk and he wouldn’t always see eye to eye with her. But a bit more open support would’ve been cool, you know?”

Shit, how it angers Jungkook.

The knot in your throat; how you avert his gaze; the looming tears. It all angers him.

He moves his hand to your knee, keeping his voice and heart steady for you. Simply uttering, “Baby…”

“And… and then today he suddenly seemed… I don’t know.” You take a deep breath, shaking your head. Your blinking fastens, and you vehemently dodge Jungkook’s eyes. “I dunno how casually he said it, but he told me he was proud.”

The way you emphasise the word… as if it’s a stranger to you, like you’re trying it out…

Jungkook sighs, heart and chest heavy, muttering so kindly—

“Oh, sweetheart… Ah, come here—”

His palm shoves the papers aside some more, uncaring, and brings you closer to his body. Yearning for your embrace, he shifts with you until your legs wrap around each other. Fingers slither to your chin to raise it, and then pinch your cheek adoringly.

The bedroom light falls into your sparkling eyes, shiny with the dampness. You’re not crying, but you sniffle for a moment.

“Of course he is,” he whispers, keeping your face upright, “what’s there not to be proud of? You’re so fucking cool.”

“…You think?”

“Of course I do,” he repeats, “you’re so inspiring and smart and funny and awesome. I’m the proudest of you, in fact.”

The heat increases beneath his palms as your cheek smoulders, pupils promptly softening. As if the outline of your irises is blurring, relinquishing the harder, unwanted emotions.

“I could probably live with just that,” you respond, managing a tender laugh and mixing it with your sniffles. “But…”

But perhaps, the heavy heart won’t get entirely lighter just yet. And Jungkook’s turns half blue at the same time as yours.

“I wish my mom could react the same way instead of being so… stubborn. I mean, it’s a good thing that I want to stand on my own two feet! And aside from work — she also saw me in the summer, and she knew how I felt without you. She sees how I feel now with you, too, and yet.”

You puff out some air, as if you’d been dying to rant; and he imitates the release of a quiet breath, but for wholly other reasons.

Because…

Along with the melancholy drenching your voice, the guilt shoots an arrow to his heart. Guilty about this damn summer; about the days he nearly gave up on you. If he could encase your fractured soul in a quick cure…

“I’m sorry she keeps hurting you, baby. And… I’m sorry you cried. Being sad over a loser like me was the last thing you needed, so…”

He’s half joking; lifting the corner of his lips. You seem to know, too, because you match his smile — still pledging, “Being sad sucked, but… you’re right here now and. I do need you.”

It’s so easy for you to tinge his entire being in a bright pink. Because somewhere in the depths of his mind, he admits that he wanted to hear this. That he wants you to need him as much as he needs you.

“And I’m right here to stay,” he promises. “Even if she doesn’t. Okay?”

“Yeah… yeah. But maybe someday she can be proud, too.”

It’s fucking you up more than he thought. Probably more than you thought.

“I’m sure,” he guarantees, “some people accept their mindsets as the only truth, angel, but one day she’ll come around.” You only nod. So he adds, “I’ll fix this with you.”

“Fix it?”

“The issues you deal with. And the ones I deal with. You and I together, okay?”

Your motions are slow. The nod is barely one; maybe because his hands refuse to establish yet another distance to your skin. And maybe because you’ve tired yourself out once and for all. The slight slouch is telling; your body needs some rest.

Enough with the papers.

“You know… somehow, this excites me,” he says. The grin emerging confuses you for a while; the flicker in your eyes is as delightful as the moment. “Pulling out all the stops and making things better with you, I mean. I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

And he’d know. Because if he’d been comfortable enough, he would’ve long ago; he had the chance to. Yet, the courage never surfaced — until with you.

His touch drops from your face to the side of your neck, shaking you gently before he says, “You excite me all the time.”

Shouldn’t be news to you — bearing his unceasing kisses and everlasting words in mind, his bliss is difficult to miss. There’s barely any containing it around you.

And maybe you know what he means; because judging from your dreamy smile, you can’t seem to muster any self-control either. Feeling the joy bubbling, growing, simmering in the middle of your stomach until it explodes and you—

Wrap your arms around his neck abruptly. Attacking him until balance abandons him, falling back onto the bed before you land on top of him. The hug is crushing, your body pushing into his with every sliver of fondness you can summon.

He could say something. Blurt more admissions dipped in honey. But he doesn’t question it; doesn’t comment on it. Only relishes the silence and your warm cheek against his chest, cuddling in.

And sighs in contentment.

A WEEK LATER

You’re messing up the structured system he established for himself.

The groceries are scattered in the cart; instead of playing Tetris with them, as he usually does, you’re piling them up randomly, unaware of the mess.

Jungkook doesn’t have the heart to tell you that the pack of eggs isn’t supposed to be balancing on top of other products like this. Because holy shit, you are buzzing. Not because you don’t know how to grocery shop, but because of the conversation this morning.

”I've got a whole list in my head. We’ll need a shit ton to make this work tonight.”

You were taming your hair as you listened; watching your reflection follow your movements — and as he readied himself for the day, Jungkook watched from afar.

You’d decided that for now, a week was enough to mourn the loss of whatever familial bonds could’ve been. Just last night you told him that starting this new life means an opportunity to gradually leave your sorrow behind, even if it takes some time.

And in celebration of the new arc you’re so joyfully approaching, you’d decided to host a housewarming of some sorts.

Jungkook’s friends already know his place; but the pronoun has changed. This time, you want them to step into your apartment, too.

Securing a hair strand with a clip, you asked, “Do we have it all here?”

“Not everything. Gotta go grocery shopping later.”

“Ohhh…”

Your fingers floated to the edge of the wash basin. You held it in your grip, leaning over it a little, staring into your own eyes quietly. He checked with another step closer to the bathroom, glimpsing at the expression in the mirror.

Calm, but thinking.

“What is it?” he asked, pulling his jeans’ zipper close.

“Uhh. Do you need help?”

“You should rest. You’re already doing so m—”

“No, no, I mean…” You let the sink go, folding your fingers. Inhaling for just a moment when your eyes fell on his bare torso. “I want to go grocery shopping with you. It’s Saturday and I have nothing to do until tonight. So… Please don’t go without me?”

The big eyes and saccharine question went straight to his heart; like one of Cupid’s pointy, sharp arrows targeting the exact middle of the organ. What else could he have done other than breaking into a breathy laugh — wide grin building a lively start to the morning.

“Of course. I’ll wait until you’re ready then.”

You raised a triumphant, tight fist, and he shook his head in delight. Diminished the distance between your bodies, a hand pressing into the back of your head before pulling you to his lips and placing a kiss to your forehead. Right before—

“Hey— ouch?”

It didn’t hurt; but he still felt the fingers pinching his tiny nipples — and heard your cheeky, “Why are they always hard? And why are you always shirtless, Jeon?”

He didn’t argue that changing into outdoor clothes didn’t count. Instead, the bright golden light you cast in his mind distracted him, taking him back.

You’d said that to him before; everything has changed since then.

“Why are you smiling like this?” you ask, holding a pack of four yellow apples in one hand, red ones in the other.

“Hm?” Jungkook rubs a hand over his cheek, feeling the glee in his countenance before flattening the dimples. “It’s nothing. I’m just liking how much fun you’re having.”

“I am! But most of all because I can’t wait to cook with you today.”

Your words instantly conjure pictures of a potential evening; idyllic ones mixing with utter chaos. Rushing and cutting and serving — but for one of the very first times together. Only milestones ahead.

A higher pitched gushing threatens to fall out of Jungkook, right here in the fruit aisle. But instead, you raise your hands again, asking, “Which ones?”

“Hmmm… neither. Let’s get the green ones.”

You let your arms fall, a finger pointing towards him, and say, “Ohhh. Good call.”

And then you proceed to complicate the cart labyrinth again. What a savagery. Jungkook waits until you’ve turned around and works on reorganising again, following his system. Then, he thinks — this could be draining, but it’s not.

Because you keep each other entertained. And neither of you bothers about the gapes you receive.

Not when he leans over the cart, shoving it in teeny tiny steps; continuing when he realises it makes you laugh.

Or, when you cheer once you find something the two of you like that nobody else enjoys; accompanied by exclaimed Ohhhhs and Haaas. And not as you argue when you find something to disagree about.

It seems that you do not dig dates, and he, the friendly omnivore, takes playful offence in that. He teases you across half the supermarket until you turn the tables, picking up an eggplant and interrupting him with a,

“Look! This is you.”

The roll of his eyes only veils his amusement a little, he’s sure. Because your enthusiasm remains steady, including the impish pull of his beige Supreme beanie over his eyes and a kiss to his cheek that paints the spot in a rosy dust.

Pointing to a glass of honey, Jungkook soon fights back, “And this is you.”

“…This is way too sweet and I do not know how to counter it.”

“Romance tends to make people speechless, darling.”

Your expression resembles an ellipsis; whether you’re out of answers or overwhelmingly affected by the selection of his words, he doesn’t know. He knows he’d short circuit if you ever said that to him.

“Fair,” is what you settle on, though, “wouldn’t I know what brain outages your romantic ass causes.”

You’re the model definition of a cheesy, movie-esque couple. Taehyung and Eun differ from the nature the two of you showcase; they already threatened to bring paper bags in case Jungkook and you overdo it tonight.

Can’t blame them. The world is certainly pink-tinted when you bicker and jest at the register; or when you hurry through an Ikea — courtesy of your last minute plan to buy plants — to make it home and cook in time.

Just this morning, you were daydreaming about the concept of furniture retailers and how such shops allow building a home with the most special person.

And then, as if wanting to clarify your sentiments, you turned in the car, facing him as you struggled with the belt, just to say, “Which is you for me. I’m building a home with you.”

Jungkook’s legs still melt into a puddle whenever he remembers the softness in your words, and the puppy gaze you threw as you finally leaned back in your seat.

Which is why it’s such a shame that the clock is ticking so relentlessly.

Because your initial elation turns into disapproval only for today as you wade through the labyrinthine, time-consuming design the store is so popular for. Trying to keep up with Jungkook’s pace and hastening across the rooms.

And even then, neither of your laughter ceases; you turn the most stressful situations into deep solace. The pressure soon gives way to a calm satisfaction the moment your apartment door opens.

You set up the few plants you brought; some under the window, some on the desk in the bedroom, right next to the Beauty and the Beast rose, and a jade plant in the living room. For good luck, you said.

And then, after resting for five minutes and abandoning all further breaks, you start work in the kitchen. Which proves as cooperative as he thought — that is, until you get into a friendly argument about whether to do the dishes now or later.

“One of us keeps cooking. The other washes up what we don’t need anymore,” Jungkook explains, repeating it over and over.

To which you keep defending, “Or. One cooks one dish. The other handles the second. And we finish cooking faster and then do the dishes together.”

His fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, and he whines, “It won’t make much of a difference!”

“Well, if it doesn’t, then we could do either!”

“BUT… it might get crowded if we work at the stove at the same time, babe—”

“You just don’t trust me with th—”

“Keep yelling at me like that, and—” Jungkook interjects, and you wince a tiny bit; but he continues a mere, barely lasting moment later, “and I swear I’ll kiss you.”

Beat of silence. Your eyebrows are still furrowed. And then, amidst the agitation, you erupt into laughter. Blend it with the chortle he can’t suppress, either.

To Jungkook, the sound is akin to a song — and he could spin the record all day long.

Spoiler warning — you do not kiss. But the lively chuckles and free-spirited conversations dye the atmosphere and flavour it. Its sweetness feels like a feathery kiss, too.

And whether it’s that very unlimited sense of familiarity, gradually growing, or your unwavering teamwork at last — you’re surprised when the late afternoon transforms into an early evening, a dimly blue, cloudy sky already changing into different shades of grey.

Time passed fast; but the hour-hand on the clock still hasn’t quite moved to where you’re waiting for it to settle. Because back in the living room, you’re still an hour early. Your guests are invited for around six, but you can’t say when they’ll actually show up.

Seems you wrapped up work at a convenient time. Better now than late.

You kiss your teeth in the middle of the room, scanning it for something to do. It’s clean; pretty. Plants set up, table wiped, cushions neatly set on the couch. So you remark, “We were so stressed, I didn’t think we’d be finished already.”

Jungkook, already plummeting onto the far end of the couch, pats the spot next to him, saying, “That’s good. Gives us a bit of time to relax. Anything you wanna do?”

But you don’t sit down yet. You watch your manspreading boyfriend lean back, big inked hand wrapping around the remote control. You look at the open button of his shirt, and the singular hair strands; the side parting. The mole under his lips and the big eyes.

He just doesn’t notice it until the lack of a response continues.

“Huh?” he voices again, finger stopping over the power button before his eyes flit back to you.

You look deep in emotions and distracted; if he could guess, then even… ferociously yearning. He waits with a dancing heart until you admit boldly, “There’s plenty I can think of that I wanna do right now.”

You fold your hands behind your back, chest out a little, legs crossing. You curl your lower lip in, nibbling at it. It affects him, and you know. He sucks in air, a hand on his thigh. Blinking at you, and then poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.

He leaves out a puff of a tiny laugh, shaking his head a bit. Nearly succumbing to the thought that…

Perhaps there’s an activity you can indulge in before they come, right—

Wrong.

Jungkook, no matter how tempted, throws another glance at the clock, and argues, “Stop thinking of eggplants. They’ll probably be here soon, so your smooth-talking is not allowed to work!”

Your body relaxes, back in its prior position; you pout for a second. “Fine. Then I’ll get dressed before anything else.”

Jungkook sighs in relief — close. Way too close. Tonight might just stretch his jeans if you keep this up; his blood is already abandoning his brain and putting its attention elsewhere.

But you’re well-mannered in the company of guests, right?

Only one way to find out — an hour to go.

Jungkook heaves his body off the couch merely ten minutes later.

And maybe even that was too early.

Maybe he should’ve waited for you to trudge out of the bedroom; or should’ve gotten his clothes and changed somewhere else. Because when he follows your steps to find a new attire for himself, too, you’re sitting at the very edge of the bed, dress already on.

It’s not too posh; rather casual. A green cotton one, pulled up to your hip because you’re dragging transparent tights over your legs. A patch of your thighs is still visible; part of your ass on display where your panties don’t reach. Skin far too empty without his kiss on it.

He doesn’t know how you do it; but within a moment, you elicit a plethora of emotions in him. Burning desire; comfortable warmth; cosy affection. You look so cuddled in in that autumn dress.

Pretty. So gorgeous; you’ll drive him insane.

But the craze doesn’t manifest in hunger this time, but gathers in a single breath, let out in a sigh. Which… makes you recoil. Your hand briefly bolts to your chest, eyes rolling, head shaking. You murmur a quiet, “Babe…” before resuming the task.

Jungkook watches as you lift your body to pull your tights over your ass and the dress back into place, and then reaches out a palm to you; urging yours to settle in it.

Still trapped in a cube of daydreams, he tugs you in until your grace radiates toward him, and then tells you—

“My baby is the prettiest ever. Ever, ever.”

You take his fawning with glowing cheeks, smile so unbelievably worth being alive as you answer, “Your baby isn’t sure if she deserves this so suddenly, but… thankful either way.”

Your voice is an endearing mix of soft and enthusiastic. The combination that breathes life into a room. You’re so…

“God,” he says, squeezing your hand, lifting his other fingers to touch the hem of your dress. Fixing it albeit already perfectly sitting. Then looks up; eyes dropping to your lips. “Maybe you were right. Want to kiss you stupid right now.”

And he would; he wouldn’t hesitate if you didn’t move a palm to his face, pressing a thumb to his plush mouth. Telling him, “Nope, too late. The make up wasn’t easy to do. And dark lipstick is hard to remove.”

Fuck, not when he’s kissing it off…

“I…” Gulp. “Fine, princess.” He removes your hand from his face, towing you back into the living room. “Then, what do we do now? Movie?”

“Nah… It’s so hard to stop watching. Gonna kick them out again if we start now. What about… hm.”

Your eyes dart across the room, and Jungkook takes the moment to suggest, “Or we could have some soju already? Or wine, beer, whatever?”

“Or…”

You wait. Jungkook follows your gaze to the back of the room, surprised when it falls on a peeking canvas behind another big plant pot. Oh — that’s still there. He never took it out, and neither did you. Protecting his privacy, probably.

But perhaps it’s lighting a bulb over your head, because you soon ask, “Or. Wanna give me a house tour?”

“A house tour? Don’t you know every corner already?”

“Yeah but,” you shrug, rounding the couch with him in tow, “I wasn’t always here. You organised the place the way you wanted to when you moved in, so you’d know it better. Like…” You point to the turned painting, “What’s that?”

“That’s… Remember the drawing I had in my notebook? Of Gureum?”

Quite a while ago. You visited him for the first time in Namjoon’s studio back then; recalled it at the exhibit, too. Crazy how sentiments have changed. From a silly play-pretend game to damaged souls to this…

You nod.

“Yeah so,” he continues, “I painted him on a bigger surface.”

Your eyes shoot open, genuine interest in them. “Oh? Can I see?”

“Of course.”

It’s not his best work, honestly; but it is close to his heart. A piece he still wants to improve and feature in his own exhibit once it rolls around. The colouring process will be interesting; it’s barely an outline yet.

But you seem to perceive it with utter fascination and sheer joy. Because the moment Jungkook heaves the canvas up, turning it for you to see, your chin drops. You gasp, mumbling under your breath, “You’re kidding!”

“…Do you like it?”

“It’s so cute! This is…” You lean in, taking in every detail; commenting on it. “He’s a fluffball! Oh my god, the tongue peeking out. He looks so happy.” When you look up into his eyes, Jungkook’s heart does a thing; and his cheeks the other thing. “You painted him from memory?”

“Mmh, maybe a couple details? But I got most of him from a picture my aunt sent me a while ago. He’s been looking much older these days and I wanted to capture him before he ages even more. Made me miss him so much.”

“Awwh, Kook…” You pout. “I really want to meet him one day.”

He looks at you with something knowing and so telling in his gaze; he feels it unveil through his own stare. The knowledge he possesses about something, and that you don’t.

You might notice hints of it, but you don’t question it. Listening when he responds, “You will. He really is a fluffball and remembers me even after months and years of distance.”

“I love him already.” You lift, straightening your back. Watching as Jungkook sets the painting back before you add, “Okay. House tour. What else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Come.” He leads you the short way to the cupboard, and you follow in tiny steps, like an explorer running from one treasure to another. So exhilirated. So fucking cute. “Look, these— and don’t laugh, these are precious to me.”

“Laugh?”

“…These,” he opens the cupboard doors, reaching to the far back, behind some decoration; and pulls out a deck of cards. “Are my Yu-Gi-Oh cards. I used to collect them long ago, but I’m never throwing them away. Also—”

Your lips are parted, your eyes focused. Eyebrows shooting up gently, delighted when he takes out another small object from the back.

“My Jiraiya figure that I got for my tenth birthday.”

“Holy shit… I really never bothered looking in hidden corners.” Yeah… but now that you are, you’re making this place your own, too. No, it already is yours, the way he is. He swoons at the thought. “This is so cool. Why would I laugh?!”

“Ah… Were you a Naruto fan?”

You tilt your head. “A little. More into Detective Conan, though.”

Jungkook wonders… How foolish might his smile be looking right now?

“You… keep surprising me, angel,” he says — and you seem to like the praise.

Because you light up, forefinger touching his chest as you reiterate, “See? The house tour wasn’t a bad idea at all! Look at us tracking back the path of our souls, too.”

Jungkook can’t help but chuckle. You’re a breath of fresh air to be around; so incredibly tender when you’re yourself. After all those weeks, you’re finally back to who he used to know. Not as sad anymore.

Never sick of the hand-holding, he grips your palm again, voice hushed when he orders, “Follow me, quick!” The mysterious journey leads you to the closet next; back to the quiet bedroom as he playfully shushes you. “I haven’t worn them in a long time, so you won’t know, but… Look, because the secret's out.”

You crane your neck to see what he’s referring to. And when you do, you coo and laugh straight away. Endlessly enraptured when he claims, “Wahh. They were my super-favourites.”

Iron Man socks. Obviously worn a hundred times; so, so him.

His bunny teeth flash in all their glory when he smiles, dimples out and corners of his eyes crinkly. He feels you hold his hand tighter, and you pick the most supportive tone when you say, “You need to start wearing them again! It’s so sweet when you’re geeky.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He stuffs them back, though not to the very bottom anymore; places them on top for easy access. And then, he continues, “Okay. One more thing for the glorious house tour, and we’re done. It’s another important sight, actually.”

“Ah. Oh?”

Barely a couple seconds later, you’re back to where the trip started. Following suit when he kneels near the table; swift beam spreading over your face when he clears his throat and narrates, “This… Is where I painted on you. Not on another medium, but I painted on you. Remember?”

You must. He rarely abandons paper and his usual colours like that; but you were the most marvellous masterpiece he ever covered. The most outstanding canvas he’s ever drawn on…

“I do.”

Your gaze falls sideways; are you remembering the same heart on your waist that he does? And how he touched it; smeared it under the shower water. How your back pressed into his chest, unknown what feelings you truly harboured, but never failing to showcase his own care to you.

The kisses on your shoulder. The whispers in your ears. The plea for you to stay.

“Of course I do. It was so calming,” you add, “and so beautiful.” You touch the soft carpet, plucking at its tiny fibres. “You consider it a sight at Jeon manor?”

He snickers at your choice of words, but then inhales, and very sternly says, “Yeah. We also had sex here, so it’s forever tainted. I remember it felt… like… we should do it ag—”

“Now it’s you saying these things!” You move a fist to his bicep, pushing against it lightly. “Be serious. Be romantic! It’s not the time to make me want you.”

“Oof, hey… For the record, I was being romantic! And also, I only want you more when you’re being sweet,” he rubs the spot you grazed; he barely felt it, “but seriously. I still remember everything I felt for you. And how crazy you drove me… and how vulnerable you were.”

You’re still stroking the fur of the carpet as you look into his eyes; and he sees a molten puddle in yours. Only one side of your lips lifts, but the softness in your voice is genuine, “I think I still am. Just a lot safer than before.”

“…Good. Me too.”

And that’s all.

That’s all his mind comes up with, because all the words and infatuation are locked in his heart, moving to his fingertips when he inches closer. He raises them to your chin. Knees near yours and close the yawning distance until your lips are a whisker away.

Funny — how his strong chest holds a feeble heart. Bursting and aching, full and yearning.

If he could, he’d stay here with you forever, just like that.

But. The two of you have a party to host.

And the suddenly ringing phone reminds you of it. Makes you flinch until your noses and foreheads touch, and you laugh, rubbing them as you tap the couch for the device. The two of you lean against the sofa, cosy on the carpet as you pick up.

He hears Eun’s voice announce through the phone, “We’re all here. Just a warning, because you better not be naked.”

You shoot a glance toward Jungkook. He snorts, and you start, “Why would we…”

“‘Cause we’re early for once. Taehyung didn’t need as much time with his hair today. So be prepared.”

Jungkook nods in confirmation. Taehyung usually needs to be told an earlier time when invited to an event or get-together.

There are sounds in the background, and he readies himself to register another voice. But not a second later, the doorbell chimes. Guess the two of you will have to wait with the bare devotion.

Because for now, it’s time to indulge the gang. Let them stream in with vibrant greetings, wrapped gifts, endless booze and sweets as irresistible as you.

Jimin is the only guest coming in a little later, rushing straight from his shift. And Jungkook recognises quickly that he’s not Jimin’s first pick for conversation after a timid handshake and parting of ways.

There’s no enmity between them; Jungkook reckons it’s more the awkwardness from the Blue Night still lingering between Jimin and him. Maybe even some leftover guilt about how he used to perceive the younger man.

At least, it’s strange when he, eventually, does take a seat on the couch, separated from Jungkook only by a healing Yoongi. You’re busy talking to Eun, and Taehyung has escaped to the bathroom. Yoongi maintains a healthy atmosphere with casual talks and soft jokes.

But even if somewhat reluctantly, it seems that Jimin is at least trying when he leans back on the couch, enabling a better view to Jungkook as he asks, “Did you paint that one?”

Jungkook follows the finger pointing at the wall next to the window; nothing too out of the ordinary. Just colourful flowers. It’s okay. Better this than nothing to warm up to each other.

Turning on the couch, Jungkook waves a hand in denial as he explains, “Ah, no, no. She bought it because she thought it’s cute.”

“But you could paint that, too,” Yoongi argues, followed by Jungkook’s shy, “I guess.”

“Ohh, okay, okay. Well, since we’re talking about it. Even if you didn’t paint it,” Jimin says, “been wanting to tell you that I loved your exhibit stuff. Uhm, Eun showed me pictures. Hope that’s okay.”

That’s surprising. Jungkook considers himself gifted in this sense, but— having someone actually boast about his work for him makes him feel… accomplished? Appreciated.

No wonder you hold your friends in such high regard.

“Yeah! Of course. Thank you, Jimin.”

“It’s a pretty place, by the way.”

Yoongi wiggles a finger back and forth with an agreeing nod, snacking away, a quiet listener for the time being. There’s something amusing about it; makes Jungkook smile as he tells Jimin, “Thanks. And I’m glad you could come. Can imagine work’s a lot, so…”

“Yeah. No worries. Everything for our girl.”

Jungkook hums as the chat dies and the awkwardness returns. And then, he remembers—

Speaking of — where are you again? Still in the kitchen? Seems so. Or at least, moving away from it bit by bit.

Immersed in a conversation, holding the frame of the living room door, at the threshold to the anteroom. You’re discussing something with Eun, your expression focused. He can’t really make out your words because of those exchanged between Jimin and Yoongi, but…

A moment later, you do look at him. And then away again immediately — as if he caught you. A motion of your hand waves whatever cryptic topic off; and intrigued, Jungkook comes to a stand.

In vain — because Taehyung returns the same moment, babbling about whatever Yoongi just said. And you use the opportunity to march into the room, asking Jungkook to help you set the table for dinner.

To his chagrin, most of them offer to help momentarily. Taehyung swarms around you, insisting on plating, making it impossible for Jungkook to find a moment to ask what your conversation was about. And eventually, he gives up — if it’s important, you’ll tell him.

So for now, he relishes the evening your friends grant the two of you. They compliment the food, narrate short and long stories, watching Jungkook and you unwrap the gifts — board games from Jimin, cutting boards and wine from Yoongi, a stylish, modern thermostat from Taehyung and Eun.

The ecstasy overflows, the screeches probably making your neighbours think of you unhinged. Wine spills on the table; curses exchange; laughing turns into crying.

If anything other than this life is considered good, then Jungkook doesn’t crave that goodness. The unbridled chuckles, and your never-dropping smile are beyond everything twinkling and gorgeous already.

And he’s happy, too. Elated when you cover your mouth when you laugh; and overjoyed when you stand at the window after dinner, leaning forward. Breathing in the autumn air.

Jungkook follows once things wind down and the guests agree upon an appropriate volume. He mimics your stance, lower arms on the windowsill and hands hanging relaxed.

His fingers graze the withering flowers in the window box. They’re slowly dying by the hands of the approaching cold, and the rain keeps overwatering them. Yet… they still let it hurt them, holding on for as long as possible.

So in love with the shower.

It’s almost a bit tragic.

Jungkook refocuses, turning to you and asks, “What are you doing?”

Your head moves to the side, and you kill the remaining distance between you. Step close until you’re nearly nudging his elbow.

“Just,” you nod into a haphazard direction; into the outside world, “looking at the rain. Got a bit stifling in there.”

“Yeah.” Jungkook throws a glance over his shoulder. “Also, I think they’re getting drunk.”

“Mhmmm. Except Jimin. Poor him is looking at the alcohol so longingly. Did you notice that he didn’t drink?”

“Someone has to drive them home, and Yoongi with his healing injury is out. I offered, but Jimin insisted on taking care of them and not, as he said, bothering us. Super thoughtful, really.”

You smile, nodding along before you silence. He doesn’t know what you’re thinking of; or what you’re seeing. Maybe you’re truly only revelling in the rain; contrasting it with the sunshine you radiate.

Maybe he should look for a rainbow somewhere.

In the midst of the tranquil evening, your gape strays from the drizzle with a blink. It descends to his twirling thumbs, and then moves along the length of his arm. Jungkook notices your attention from the side, but only turns to look at you when he realises what you’ve fixated on.

You gesture towards the hues and outlines on his skin, delicately touching the writhing snake as you say, “Want a tour for them, too, if you’d ever allow. I imagine it could be fun.”

“Tattoo tracing?” His lips move into an endeared smile; you look so fascinated. Like you’re seeing them for the first time. “I’d be down. I could even…” His fingers journey to yours, gently leading them to the flowers. “I can even give you a sneak peek.”

“Really?”

“Sure. Look.” He guides your touch over the dazzling orange of his tiger lily. “This is me. Tiger lilies beg for love. I’ve always sought love, too.”

Your eyes change. He knows you see it, too — the urge to never be abandoned again, all the time.

He can nearly see your heart ache. And feels his own thump a thousand miles a second. A fraction of it breaks off and jumps into your chest, making it yours; it does it all the damn time until you hold the entirety of it in the palm of your hands.

Unhurried, he steers your finger further, stopping at the blue tint; clearly hears you draw a breath when he tells you, “And this… This is my girlfriend. She’s even prettier in real life… that’s right.”

For a bit, you’re speechless. Jungkook keeps admiring you in the forget-me-nots for another second, and when you don’t speak on, he meets your eyes. You’re shaking your head, and then — slowly wrapping an arm around his, moving close, head on his shoulder.

From this angle, your cheeks are demanding to be squeezed; eyelashes kiss them softly, your lips tempting curves when you laugh. Jungkook doesn’t get enough of you… and you don’t want to make it easier for him either.

Because, “Shit,” you say, “you were right about pining more when someone’s being romantic. ‘Cause you’re making me want you so bad, in every way. Are you… still up for kissing me stupid?”

“Ahh… babe.”

“I just… You excite me, too, you know?”

“Don’t say these things while they’re here, baby,” he warns, although as tenderly as anyhow possible, “you’ll give me a heart attack, I mean it.”

“Now you know how I feel all the time!” you tease, fingers flicking raindrops into his face out of nowhere.

Jungkook recoils and squirms, taken aback, but it takes him a mere second to play along. He gathers rain in his palms, threatening to toss it into your face; bickering chaos at the open living room window until your damp hands rejoin and delicate digits interlace.

And as he looks at the sad flowers again, the reality of the moment makes him think. How the two of you used to resemble the blossoms in your window box, once enduring the incessant melancholy, too.

Much like the flowers towards the downpour, Jungkook and you reached for each other while being watered by gloom — but unlike the flowers, you’re still sprouting and thriving into something vivid and fragrant. Not beaten by the agonising shower.

The rain hurt me, but I wanted to keep fighting. Because I hoped. Because I adored.

And in the end, him and you aren’t tragic like them. You will never wither — only bloom.

An hour later, the apartment is empty.

You opened all the windows to eliminate the suffocating air; and the hot water running in the sink soothes your cold skin. What a relief to watch the clinking dishes lessen; you sigh at the small amount still left, and Jungkook catches it immediately.

“See?” he teases, loading the dishwasher. Even that seems like a task after such a day; tidying up the living room was more than enough. “Good that we did most of it during and after cooking. It’s so much even now.”

Eyes heavy, you admit, “I should learn to listen to you more.”

He clicks his tongue, skipping a response, and then, out of the blue, says, “Angel… I could get used to this.”

“To me listening to you more?”

“Yes. But no. To you being here.”

You glow up, even though you’re still facing the sink, smile a little hidden, “You need to. Because I’ll be annoying you all the time.”

“Oh, I believe you.”

You hit him with a spoon, wetting the spot a bit before handing the cutlery to him. Delivering a head tilt, he smirks. Amused before he remembers something and asks, “Hey. What were you and Eun talking about earlier?”

“Hm? When?”

“Before dinner. It looked serious.”

You halt mid-movement. Did he catch something? Maybe. But you only insist, “Nothing special. About her graduation… you know, since it’s pretty soon.”

Huh. Doesn’t seem to quite cut it.

“Mmmh. Anything else?”

You feign a thoughtful moment, as if you’ve wiped your memory clean off whatever she said to you. Then, you tell him, “Yeah. I told her how you played around with the recipe and came up with the best dinner ever. And how hot you looked doing it.”

“…You said the last bit, too?”

“No.” Jungkook blows a raspberry before comically pressing his lips into a line, eyebrows furrowing. “Don’t look at me like that, it’s not my fault. I mean, do you know how attractive is it to be among people and know that this one person is still only looking at you?”

Oh, all too well…

“I would definitely know,” he chuckles. “Shit. You’ve been testing me tonight, you know?”

“…How?”

“All those compliments and ambiguous statements.” You shrug your shoulders in apparent innocence, muttering a small, ”It’s true" before he digs, “Anyway, don’t distract me. Anything else she said?”

Perhaps you’re done playing games. And perhaps you should’ve kept doing just that; because your next answer is a much greater tease.

“…I’ll tell you about it soon enough.”

Jungkook squints, organising a plate into a free spot, playfully disgruntled, “Unfair.”

“Hang in there.”

“Alright. You’re lucky I trust you.”

Your grin is gaping wide, and he attempts his best to ignore it. But when you add an evil snicker to it, regarding him with pure mirth in your eyes, he folds, “What?”

“Nothing. You’re just so cute. You’ll keep acting like you’re digging, but still always know when to respect my decisions. Maybe the bar is low? But I find trust ridiculously attractive.” You throw a longing smile at him, bringing a damp fingertip to his cheek to poke. “And to top it off… You’re so pretty, too, and I’m just… enamoured from all sides and—”

You wait and he uses the moment to wipe his cheek on his shirt. But when you don’t speak on, he spurs you on, “…And?”

“And I want you so bad.”

The plate waiting to be set into the dishwasher drops on the counter. Jungkook stares up, regarding the ceiling with a seemingly agitated look. You don’t know what’s truly whirling in him, so you warily ponder, “…What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Jungkook turns the water off, taking the cups from your hands and placing them in the sink. He shakes his palms off the liquid, and then whispers, “Okay. Later.”

The hold around your wrist is firm, and the tug firmer. Determined, he leads you out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over the light switch; your eyes are wide when you ask, “Wait, we’re not do—”

His answer is predictable; yet, you didn’t foresee it. Because—

“Bedroom. Right now.”

THE MORNING OF THE CONFESSION

Unlike you, Jungkook has considered himself a night owl ever since he entered the bustling world of college. Settling in the city was a stirring experience, and the thrill of it, along with a girlfriend, exams and newfound friends, kept him up until the sun rose again.

He enjoyed what he did, too. Loved school, so he didn’t mind the fatigued eyes during lectures. Truly one of the handful of joys that helped rid his head of the brain fog he bestowed upon himself after each long, sleepless night.

And he was an avid participant in classes despite his sheepish persona — they shook him awake, the late afternoon workouts obliterating the rest of the exhaustion. Maybe that’s why he was so reluctant to flake out for the night, too; still energised.

But while Jungkook carried the spirit of a straight-out-of-the-high-school-freshman who disliked falling asleep early, he despised waking up at the break of day just as much.

Would groan, blinking into the sun, with no one to blame for his agitation but him. No matter how deep his fascination for his studies and how quick the fading of his initial irritation — the first few minutes of every day were pure agony.

Jungkook is still a night owl. Still wants the nights to stretch, albeit for other reasons now. But his attitude towards mornings has changed.

There’s a shift in his preferences now; you moved his universe by an inch, altered it so effortlessly. Suddenly, he doesn’t regret rising with the sun next to him. He doesn’t curse the groggy feeling anymore.

There’s a silky touch he seeks every single morning that his eyes open to, lips he follows with his own blindly. You’re a permanent presence now, air and fire to his lungs, and he feels the freshness, feels the burn whenever your fingers brush his shoulders upon waking up.

He won’t need to check in at work for a few hours still; yet, sleeping in would mean losing the minutes that you’re still here before walking out the door until the evening.

He’ll sacrifice a slumber for this. Voluntarily.

And it’s crazy how none of this requires any sort of effort or pleading from your side. How all you need to do is to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Those extra moments, no matter how fleeting, grant him a little more time on Earth with you, and he grasps it greedily. Even when you spend it teasing the hell out of him. Or, even when you wake up with scorching cheeks and endearing, high pitched complaints.

Like today.

“I still can’t believe yesterday,” you say.

“It’s okay.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard. Thinking about it, can I really show my face at the wedding? I’ll probably make things worse.”

Jungkook keeps glancing at the back of your head, the loose bun shaking with your movement. Smoothly, his fingers trace up and down your back; a gesture he started randomly and continued the moment you mumbled, “I like it… continue?”

Sat between his legs, you’ve been swaying for a while, both uneasy and amped about the approaching event. And to Jungkook, it’s as sweet as it is frustrating to see your brain fuming like that.

“Come here, baby,” he demands, content when you reverse into him. He wraps his arms around your chest, pulling you to his body, and presses a pillowy kiss to your temple. “You’re overthinking again. I promise you, we’ll make sure you have the most fun.”

“I embarrassed myself so hard,” you repeat, and Jungkook kisses his teeth.

“You’re a clown, I’ll admit,” you whine his name, and he laughs, “but I’m telling you. I know my mom and that was her I-like-you voice. Which I didn’t doubt for a second, by the way. Like, she really seems happy with how my life has turned out, and with whom. As am I. Understand?”

One more kiss to your scalp. He swings you from side to side, ignoring the ticking of the clock. In a few, you’ll be leaving the apartment, and Jungkook will need to kill the hours until he joins Namjoon at work.

He shouldn’t be missing you already; but he still holds you tighter. Tighter until you let out a little groan, a hand on his arm. He can’t read your thoughts or decipher whether his promise helped; because you don’t answer yet.

Only wait for a few seconds, allowing him to wallow in your warmth until you call, “…Jungkook.”

“Mhh?”

“Talking about life and stuff… did you always imagine yours to be like this? Just curious.”

“Like this?” he ponders, mentally intertwining every current branch of his life into one healthily growing tree. He’s liking it. “Well… I graduated. An exhibition ahead that’ll hopefully bring me a step closer to my own studio and profession.”

You hum in pride, tapping his arm as an affectionate reward. He continues, “I do what I love, have some great friends… and I get to spend my days with my favourite person? Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

You crane your neck to look at him; your lips are so close to his, tilted into a smile that’s so unbelievably you. “You called me that last night, too.”

“Huh? Oh, that’s right. And… I mean it. Like. Now that you’re here, it’s even clearer somehow?”

“…How so?”

“Mmh… whenever I used to get home, I’d think of what to eat and of showering and going to sleep. And when I come home now, the first thing I think of is you. What we’d cook tonight. Or what we might watch or talk about. You’re…”

He feels your chest rise under his limbs; a sigh of fondness as he knows it best.

“You’re the one I want to spend all my time with.” He pauses when you look at your blanket-covered lap, hiding your twinkling eyes. “So it’s clear.”

“You always sound so hopelessly…”

You halt mid-sentence, the touch against your arm tensing — much like his own heart, jumping to the next beat with a heavy thud. You shake your head; Jungkook doesn’t get to dwell in further thoughts… still doesn’t have the words for them yet.

Or doesn’t want to admit them yet.

If he thought about them long enough and arrived at a conclusion, would you think he’s rushing your relationship? Would it scare you?

Better not find out yet.

So he lets you talk and listens, “Anyway. So, is there anything, like… more? That you want to achieve someday? Or that you think of sometimes before you go, that’s still left for me to do.”

How fitting.

Pretending to be sinking into thoughts, Jungkook hums, letting his chest vibrate against your back, and then answers truthfully, “Yeah? Maybe a couple things. We’ll see them with time when I gather the courage to tackle them.”

“Like what?”

“Hmm… am I allowed to say that already?” More simulations, teasing you with a fake distant gaze and a hissing inhale of air. “I’m not sure. You’ll know.”

“Hey! That makes me nervous.”

“No need.” You interrupt his speech with another sound of disapproval, pulling a dorky, infectious chortle out of him; his nose scrunches up. “I’m kidding. I’m talking about all the goals I have for my career. I don’t want to stop, no matter what. Keep going and keep striving for more.”

You nod; someone as hard-working as you would understand. In a sense, you’re a role model to him, too — a sentiment that you, as you have often emphasised, reciprocate.

Yet, you advise, “Just don’t overwork. Think of Icarus! We can’t always get more than more, you know? There’s happiness in satisfaction with what we have, too. But either way…” You angle your legs, pulling them close; cuddling into him more. “I’ve got your back.”

And perhaps that’s one of the gazillion traits he cherishes so much about you.

Your position at work is reputable and treasured, and you could easily push him to work harder, too. Could want him to match your career success, because it’s more or less guaranteed for you.

But you don’t. You stand by his side, prioritising his happiness and mental strength, albeit unaware of how his future might turn out. When you say you’ve got his back, he believes you.

“I know,” he says, lips in your hair, breathing you in. “Yeah… I know.”

“Hmmm… okay,” you move on, “what about me? Do you have any expectations? Certain standards and rules? I just,” you reach forward, tugging the blanket over your chest and his arm, “I feel like that’s something one should talk about. Tell me if it’s too much, though.”

“No, you’re right. But honestly? Is it… is it weird to say that you’ve kinda become a standard?”

“…I— What do you mean?”

“I just mean that… I’m never going to tell you that I expect you to be loyal and kind because it’s the bare minimum, right? Who doesn’t want all that? I know you are, so I don’t need to say it. So I don’t have any other expectations from you; these things are already the foundation of our relationship. Just. Mmh, how do I say it?”

He thinks for a moment, but you’re nodding, as if you’ve already understood. But his thoughts don’t end here; they’re just difficult to word. In his mind, they’re clear, but upon having to express them, he doesn’t quite understand the concept of language anymore.

Curses its limitations.

But then, as emotions gingerly gather to a coherent sentence at last, he tries to explain:

“Rather than adhering to any rules or standards I could have, I feel like you’re building them for me. You make me have a type, you know?” He feels you dissolve in his arms as he taps between your clavicles. “And that’s you. I don’t want anyone if I can’t have you.”

Did he go off track? Possibly. But you don’t seem to mind.

Because your voice is painfully sweet and miniscule when you speak, on the brink of losing the fight against the tremble, “But you have me. Pinky promise that you do, for a long, long time.”

Yeah… yeah, he does. And he’d be damned if he let this go.

Because if he ever did — if he ever so foolishly lost you again after combating these cruel storms, you’d still remain his standard. He’d look for you in each face passing, and in every laugh sounding.

The blueprint. And an everlasting memory.

Does it make sense? He doesn’t know.

And it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re right here.

“I’ll take your pinky promises,” he says, overjoyed as he crosses his legs over your shins, peppering more kisses onto your cheeks, the corner of your eyes, on your ear. He speaks in between your sighs and quiet laughs, “What about you? What do you want?”

“I… I don’t think I’ve ever had any expectations either, but. The wedding and—” You hesitate, as if considering dropping whatever you were going to list; and then you start anew, “The wedding made me think, and I— I just want to have so much fun with you.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.”

“I want all the ordinary things we do to feel special because it’s us doing them. And I don’t ever want us to regret anything, so… I want us to be brave.”

“Brave? Well, you’re already the strongest and bravest person I know.”

“Braver. I want to live without restraints. And I don’t want to overthink anymore.”

Hmm…

Jungkook has seen your jumbled up thoughts before. The pain you cause to your mind sometimes, and the zoned out eyes painting pictures of what you fear the most.

He knows that feeling. Has battled one too many beasts to lessen the ache; even if it’s not always possible. Even if he seeks reassurances sometimes, too. And maybe that’s the prominent and sole reason why he never dismisses your disquiet.

Why push you away if you’re already at an impasse? Why not lead you out of the maze?

“Take it easy, okay?” he soothes, letting his grip around you fall bit by bit to search for your fingers instead. “Restraints can’t beat us.”

“Yeah! I’m hopeful.”

“You should be.” Because thinking of all you’ve fought within the span of a couple weeks… “You’re the first person to show me that there’s no reason to be scared, you know?”

“Then…” You sit up, curling your fingers around his hand, lifting it mid-air in sudden eagerness. “Just imagine how life could go, right? We could go to the ocean. Oh.” You gasp, sucking in air. “Oh my god! The Great Barrier Reef!”

“Ohhh, that’s actually a solid bucket list item. And then, bungee jumping?”

You nod zealously; lacking your fingers’ mobility required to list things, you instead knock your intertwined hands against your thigh each time to come up with something new. Like now, “Cliffs. And northern lights, too. I’ve always wanted to see them.”

Reflexively, you look up.

Stare at the glued-on stars from last night, and the now missing projection you dozed off to. An effective visual lullaby; you didn’t even stir when Jungkook turned it off, tucking you in properly. In your blanket; in him.

“Hell yes,” Jungkook confirms.

“But the first stop’s your hometown… and the wedding. I want to meet your family and be super awkward about it.”

Jungkook laughs, forehead falling forward against your head. He shakes it for a second, and then recalls, “Ah… so chickens and family awkwardness. What else?”

He didn’t expect this to work out before he asked you. Considering you’ve barely started at Novaura, he anticipated gentle rejection. But now that it’s become a certain event in the incredibly near future, his heart pounds every time you mention it.

Because…

You in a dress. You in his house. You, dominating over every single heart that’s dear to him.

And it seems you’ve already thoroughly thought about this, because your answer shoots out of you like a bullet, “Wanna dance with you. And kiss you under the lights.”

“Angel… you’re over the moon about this, aren’t you?”

“…Too obvious?”

You allow a fleeting glance back to him before your eyes fall down to his bare arm, ending in a hand clinging to yours; covered in ink, much like the rest of his right limb. He knows you’re staring at the flowers without asking.

And as if knowing, reading your soul, he doesn’t find himself surprised when you suggest, “And then… one day… What do you think? Should I get a tattoo someday, too?”

“Totally, if that’s what you want. What would you wanna get?”

“Flowers to match? I don’t know. Maybe you can draw on me. Here,” you lead his hand to your thigh, sticking there for a while until you move up to your hip. “Or here.”

He wonders how focused your thoughts are right now. Because if they are, and you’re not fixating on the changes of his skin, you probably won’t register the countless goosebumps under his tattoos.

A giddy sensation spreads throughout his body, collecting in his chest and tummy. Memories of a nearly bare body, painted in his dozen colours returning. And then, pictures of the same hues blurring, smudging.

He breathes an exhale, insane at the thought of kissing those lines. Of lips trailing up your skin, stopping at your hip, dying a pleasant death.

Fuck.

“I… I would. I’ll paint you any day.”

His words come out more airy than intended, fingers itching to pinch your chin, to move your face to his. To slide down the mattress, to kiss your lips swollen, making out with you until the sun sets…

But the world is cruel and too real; the clock still ticks until he realises that freezing in place isn’t an option right now. So he says, “As much as I hate to say this… You should get ready for work.”

You groan; there’s something sweet about your unwillingness to go. Relatable. And it sticks until the exhaustion washes away with each second. Small breakfast in, clothes on, newfound work spirit restored.

Must be a good day approaching.

And you’ve been enjoying the recent ones, he assumes. Despite being so good at what you do, there’s a clear difference in how you tackle a day at Charmante versus at Novaura.

And you confirm it when he accompanies you to the entrance, bidding you goodbye until you meet again later, “What I love most about Novaura is that they don’t feel the need to communicate everything with Mom. They’re their own independent world and trust themselves.”

“Right… You as someone equally independent will fit right in, so they’re lucky to have you there. Makes me wonder, though.” Jungkook pauses, watching you grab your jacket from the wall hook, “Are your Charmante people okay with you being at Novaura so much?”

A COUPLE DAYS LATER

“…I really don’t know if I can do this.”

Well, shit. Wasn’t he ready to strive for more, run endlessly until his feet tired? Where is the dread suddenly emerging from?

Jungkook has barely set his sketchbook down when lightning bolts head for him.

Countering his concern with kissing eyebrows, Namjoon’s full lips purse, dimples gone as he wonders, “What are you even talking about?” — Much at the same time as you utter a threatening, “Shut up,” pastry lifted, ready to throw at him.

Jungkook shies away from the table, ready to dodge your attack; returning when you place the crumbly croissant back on your plate. He presses his lips together before smacking and kissing them, finger rolling the pen over his sketches, but eyes fixated on Namjoon’s notebook.

“I’m serious. There’s so much to do until November, and I… how do I get so much done?”

“But,” Namjoon knocks against the random drawing open on the table, “you already have so much to show. And you can revamp stuff from college, too. Besides, it’s okay to try your best and be scared at the same time, Jungkook! That’s part of a growing artist’s job.”

“But, are you sure I’m a growing artist?!”

Namjoon mutters something under a breath, and you add something unintelligible to the reassuring mix. Jungkook’s worried gaze remains on the rough lines of pencil on paper, teeth repeatedly nibbling his lower lip. Baring his mole.

He closes the sketchbook, staring at the golden, imprinted letters on a dark black background. He’s filled a quarter of it already; the very piece you gifted him for his birthday almost a month ago.

In some way, opening to a blank page serves as inspiration alone. You furnished him with something so simple yet gorgeous; thoughtful engraving to use as a reminder to hold onto his efforts.

But…

Amidst the lasting zeal, he’s been racking his brain. Because. What if he immerses himself in this, spending hours tainting his fingertips in different tints — only to steer towards failure?

What if it doesn’t work out? And he ends up not amounting to much, other than trying his luck online and living on a bare minimum of a salary? Would he start tutoring young, aspiring artists?

And you…

You’re diving into a stable job, well-paid, well-known. If you end up carrying both of you on your shoulders… would you think of him as a washout? Grow frustrated and dissatisfied?

You’ve been repeatedly declaring your unswerving support, but what if you some day do realise that…

Ugh.

He stuck to this passion with the full knowledge he would never fall out of love with it; but now that he’s working for his dreams, the process seems so scary all of a sudden.

“And I’m at the wedding, too…” he says.

He leans back in his chair, moving his pupils away from the paper and instinctively up to you. More concerns threaten to tumble off the tip of his tongue, but when your eyes suddenly flicker with disappointment, his lips shut again.

You blink, unsure, before you ask, “Do you… not want to go? We could totally stay here if you need the time.”

Oh…

Hadn’t you gushed about the event day in, day out now, he would’ve maybe believed your words. And in some sense, you probably do think of the alternative as okay, as long as he profits from it.

But he sees it in your eyes. And not just in yours — he’s been as enthralled by the idea as you. Which is why…

“No,” he responds, “no. We will go.”

Because the prospect of winding down with you has been keeping him sane. Doting on you under the countryside stars, showing you all you haven’t seen before, body to body dancing with you…

He’s not missing out on that, no matter what.

And god knows you need the break, too… especially after the utter hysteria last Friday…

“Kook, think about it. You need to be absolutely sure,” you argue, genuine worry in your gaze; from his side eye, he sees Namjoon nod in confirmation.

“I am. We’ll go, baby, okay?”

You don’t avert your gaze; your mouth closes a little, but you stay unblinking, waiting for his mind to change. He knows because he sees the thoughts floating at the surface of your eyes.

Like you’re still pondering; of course you are. As someone who’s been working hard for their career, even if just for a few months, you’d know. Who’d understand if not you?

The trance lingers between the two of you, and Jungkook lifts his lips, a vow and certainty in his smile. Moment only broken when Namjoon clears his throat and encourages once more, “Give it a shot, Jungkook… Those high-profile people need to see what you’re capable of! I mean, we’re so lucky to have them coming to our exhibits.”

Namjoon gestures randomly, across the small restaurant as he says, “Say what you will about this city, but we lure in quite a few esteemed artists for sure.”

“Who says something about this city?” you ask.

“I do,” Namjoon’s voice is soothing. One thing Jungkook has learned about him is that his flowery mind never rests. Lyrical; not always easy to understand. “I love and hate it. Leaving it, living it.”

He pauses, sipping on his diet coke before smacking the taste away and ordering, “Ask me anytime if you need any help, alright? And be confident.”

“And… what if it does work?”

Your gentle laugh sounds from the opposite side of the table, the straw of your milkshake on your tongue. The rhythmic melody calms something deep in him; perhaps more because he understands your reaction.

You’re just as cute worrying about things that he knows you’d ace.

“Well,” Namjoon starts, aware that Jungkook knows; still annihilating his unease, “the guy is ready to buy your art. If it goes well, he’ll sponsor you. Then, at some point, you’ll be able to afford your own studio and grow as an artist. Ideally.”

“Ah… ah, really…”

”Kookie,” your voice calls; you lean over the round table, shoving the milkshake aside, “don’t worry. And in the most unlikely case that it doesn’t go as planned, know that I’ll cheer you on either way.”

“And me too,” Namjoon raises a hand.

Your finger swings to and fro between Namjoon and you, and your expression changes from empathic and soft to the sweetest, most gut-wrenching smile he’s ever seen. The apples of your cheeks lift, pupils sparkling when you vow, “We’re here for you.”

He…

He could look at you all day, blinking be damned. Could pour out his emotions every second of every minute of every hour, and it’d still not match the endless letter his heart keeps crafting for you.

Disregarding how much of a shipwreck the two of you were last Friday, his chest has still lightened ever since; an epiphany has never been sweeter.

Because…

The words he couldn’t compose into a poem before are now an ardent confession, with rhymes and a melody and infinite beauty. Roaming his mind nonstop, caught in that baby pink bubble.

When had his senses last heightened this much?

Because somehow, he still feels the damp trail of tears he cried that night. And the heart that beat against your cheek. You, frozen against him, processing his words.

If there are ways to make him fall in love harder, you’ve been presenting them all the goddamn time.

And fuck, it’s been hard focusing on anything but you.

Like, on paying. Or on upholding a conversation with Namjoon — assuring him he’d be back in the studio in a bit as he prepares to bid you goodbye for the day.

To his chagrin, the walk to your car isn’t long. It’s parked at a corner, convenient for lunch dates like these; you promised you’d join one with Joon at some point, and you did. Forty-five minutes passed too quickly. Felt like a moment.

“Namjoon is so nice!” you comment, hands in the pockets of your denim jacket.

You keep swaying back and forth, from your heels to your toes and back. Your smile and movements suggest a free spirit, but your risen shoulders and the shallow crease between your eyebrows drench you in something tense.

You’ve been like that since you suggested staying, focusing on his work.

“He’s so wise, too, really,” Jungkook responds, close to you in case your swinging moves leave you tumbling, “like, a cool mix between calm and dorky. I’ve been learning so much from him.”

“Jeon Jungkook and his love for his mentor. You will never stop talking about him.”

Jungkook shrugs, a hand to the nape of his neck, face warming, “He’s cool, what can I say?”

“Yeah.”

And once again… he sees you gulp. Unsure, pupils flickering. You usually don’t struggle maintaining eye contact. So he soon wonders, “Are you okay? I… I hope you didn’t misunderstand what I said earlier. I really do want to go to the wedding.”

“Hm?” you voice, chin lifting a bit before you dispute, “Oh. No, I believe you. If you say it’s okay, then that’s how it is.”

“What then?”

“What do you mean? Do I really seem like something’s up?”

“A little.”

“Uhm…”

You roll up your eyes as you dig into your thoughts. Scouring your brain for whatever might be meandering in the back of your mind. Hm… seems you’re not fully cognisant of the subtle change in your behaviour, either?

So maybe, it means nothing after all.

Then again. It must be something.

Because in hindsight, he didn’t only notice today, but all weekend, too—

Oh…

Maybe you’re just getting used to the new developments; maybe they’re just making you a bit bashful like him. Maybe…

Okay. Deep breath. He just needs to make it sound like a joke, nothing pushy or odd or awkward because—

“Or is it because I told you I love you? Have I scared you off already?”

He watches your breathing stop. As though flexing an x-ray stare, watching your lungs dry up, air stuck in your throat until it escapes through your nose. Honestly… he’s been feeling the same.

“No!” you answer, tone breathy, pulling a hand out of the pocket to sprightly push at his shoulder. He barely budges. “Of course not. All that does is make me want to faint.”

Jungkook chuckles, delighted when your laugh matches his own. He doesn’t always know how to take a compliment either; but you fix your speechlessness with that glow on your face. Fills his own body with fairy dust, too.

His dimples are valleys when your fingers move to his open jacket, grazing the zipper and filling the seconds with quiet tenderness. He doesn’t know what to say to you until you let the silence prolong and then giggle into it once more.

If he could just dive into your brain. But all he has are his own, messy thoughts.

And those tangled thoughts say—

“Angel… Can I kiss you?” Now his lungs are collapsing, too. Worse, so much worse when you look into his eyes, still so surprised at every sliver of affection he signs. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

No… he needs to. Needs to blossom in this breezy weather. But he won’t tell you that.

He’ll just keep looking at you. One second, two seconds — until you’ve raised your hands to the collar of his jacket to move him closer, soon sneaking your touch further up to his neck. A miniscule and wordless hint of approval, and he basks in it avidly.

Twitching palms hesitate for only the subtlest of moments before they’ve dashed up to your cheeks, cupping your face and leaning in and…

Lock.

A picture of a lock. And of its key.

The first thing to flash into his mind.

Because how do his lips fit so perfectly between yours? When you touch him like this, delicate fingers caressing his jaw, how do you feel so much like a feather? And the damn way you sigh into his mouth… how you reciprocate the kiss.

He will never tire of telling you, telling himself, that you match him just like the ocean complements the shore. And it’s baffling. How perfect this feels, and how right it feels.

You do make the ordinary extraordinary.

Like a kiss that is shared a million times a day, between so, so many people. But you’re moving your lips against his. Holding onto him, tilting your head, soaking in his warmth. Going tentatively, then a bit faster, then slow again.

For the merest moments when your mouths part, you gasp, inhaling before pushing your fingers into his hair, at the back of his head. Then back against him, seeking his tongue; such soft sounds meeting his that he swears he could cry.

Cry about the shiver down his spine and the flutter in the pit of his stomach. About the world becoming a backdrop to everything in the middle of the pavement; and about how his thoughts only revolve around your shared breaths and the feeling of your warm cheeks.

Just you.

You, you, you.

Still too far away. Why do you drive him so incredibly mad?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He loves you. He loves you.

Under a breath and against your soft pillows, he mutters your name; so airy that he barely recognises his voice. His tongue drags over your lower lip, pecking one more time before he establishes an intruding distance between you.

Your foreheads touch for a transient bit, thumb skimming your cheek. When he opens his eyes, yours are still shut, and you’re feeble in his grip. And then, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

You swallow again. Take a breath before admitting, “You’re right. There’s something I want to ask you, and I was so stupidly… nervous about it.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole gang, they… they’ve been planning something. They paid for it and all, but they’re waiting for me to give them an answer, so they know if I need to pay them back or if they should cancel or, or—”

He interrupts your ramble with a soft, “Tell me, babe.”

“Okay,” your eyelids finally open up; your gaze is so hazy when you look at him. “It’s a trip. Four days, three nights, during the wedding week.” He hasn’t said a word when you hurry to add, “But, we can leave earlier. It’s a road trip kinda thing to the mountains and the beach and. They want us there, too.”

”Oh.”

“…Yeah.”

“I… Baby.” He moves back, shaking his head. He was careful not to ruin your hair, well aware you have half a work day ahead of you; but he still brushes a strand back. “Were you and Eun talking about that two weeks ago?”

“Yeah. And Tae also said I should be the one to ask because you’d like that. But then things happened and all the stress and…”

“But… even before that. Why were you so nervous asking me about it for so long?”

“Because,” you answer, one shrug of your shoulders, “I wanted to wait and see how you feel about the exhibition and the workload. And you already have limited time because of the wedding and I didn’t want to take away more of it.”

He can’t help but beam; why does this feel… endearing? Mirrors his own thoughts when he asked you about accompanying him to the wedding.

“We really do have the same brain, don’t we?” he asks.

“You’d think we’d learn.”

You say it lightheartedly, yet gnaw on your lips. He tongues the inside of his cheek, keeping eye contact, and then queries, “There’s something else, right?”

“Ah, just.”

You look unsure, trying to make sense of your thoughts, but your uncertainty makes him uncertain, too. So he exhales before he prods, “What? What what? Is it something bad?”

“No! Just. They’ve been wanting to do this since the summer. They never talked about it to me because you and I were… you know.” You kiss your teeth, and he uses the second to whoosh away the aching memories. “But they never cancelled for us, either.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they’d say, and I quote, ‘Just wait.’ They knew we couldn’t stay away from each other even before we did.” You laugh. “Eun told me that day in the kitchen.”

Even before you did?

Untrue. He knew he didn’t want to live without you the moment you left his apartment, tear-soaked and heartbroken.

“Okay…” he starts, “and you were worried because?”

“Because you always get so sad when I talk about the summer. Explaining the context of the trip seemed hard to me, and I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

Oh…

Shit, man.

“You’re… ahhh… my sweet baby.” He wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. But you’re already running out of time, lunch break nearing its end, so he only grips your shoulders. “You know that it gets better after two minutes, no? Because whatever happened, I have you now.”

He flicks your chin as he has been lately; it cheers you up. Makes you smile a bit, conjures the pout away. Adding to the effect when he says, “Don’t worry so much, my love.”

Another inhale. Then, you admit, “I’m sorry. I dragged it out.”

“It’s okay.”

“So… would you come? Do you think you could take some time off work and all? I’d understand if it’s too much.”

“Hmm… Right before the wedding, isn’t it?”

“Mid-october, yes. We could leave earlier!” you reiterate, hellbent on assuring he’s not obligated to do anything. So sweet, how you scratch your head. “They’d drive on. It’s convenient because it’s all in the same week.”

“Mountains and beach, you say.”

“If you don’t like them, we can stay at the hotel and chill together.”

Shit.

His grin widens with each heartbeat; you notice, because despite your suggestions, you sound more lively now.

And yet, it’s funny you’d question all these things like this at all. Don’t you remember damp cheeks and gentle touches?

Just days ago.

How he was still trembling when you left Eun’s complex. How he stopped you before climbing into the car, much like now, mumbling a timid, “Angel…”

And then retracting when his heart combusted. Looking into your eyes, still red, his own mind filled with nervous fear before settling on, “Nothing. Let’s go home.”

Or how you cried in the living room. How you broke down, terrified he might walk away. How his breath quivered, how his head spun, how he felt like he might throw up or faint or scare you off.

The damn sickness in his stomach until he spat the hidden words for the first time. And the pounding of his heart when you responded with a mumbled, “Kook… How.”

And… how his chest constricted at everything that followed after that. Don’t you remember?

In spite of every indication he threw your way — you still worry so much.

Funny you’d be so nervous around someone who wants to see the entire world with your hand in his.

What did you call it again? Wanting to be brave.

So fucking easy with you.

“How about…” he begins, staring into anticipating eyes, hearing a storm of cheers rumble, “going shopping before we leave?”

Your demeanour changes momentarily. The unsure girl, afraid to hurt him, soon finds her way back to her foundation. You light up, a hand over your mouth; your cheeks must be hurting.

You deliver one, short jump and then pull him back in, kissing his lips once before scattering a couple more pecks next to them. He soon finds himself pushing you towards your car, forcing you back to work, but you have a thousand things to babble about.

He’s adoring all the bright stars in your eyes — now he understands how you feel when you see the same universe in his.

It’s crazy. How effort is never required from your side for him to feel that way. How you only need to breathe and talk and smile and stay.

Stay stay stay.

The word sails and wafts through his dazy thoughts like a silent prayer. Begging and begging; pleading to allow him to pour all his love on you, although he doesn’t need to ask. You always let him anyway.

And he guesses he’s using that permission thoroughly. Maybe that’s why keeps craving and burning for more; why he’s been holding you tighter these nights.

His tiger lily pressed against your heart.

*head in hands* they are so crazy for each other, pls 😭 warmth and reassurances and support and bickering literally build the foundation of their relationship and i love them sm :') for some reason the editing process knocked me out, but i still adore this one so so much, and i hope you guys did, too!! 🥺

feedback is always so so appreciated!! you guys are literally such a freaking supportive bunch and have kept this series alive for so long and i love you to death :( here's to the first one this year!! as always, please consider leaving a like, reblog (with or without feedback!), comments and spammm my inbox with everything that's on your mind hehe <3 any kind of msg makes my day!

and nowww!!!!! moving on to cmi: palette and VACAYYYY!!! mwah mwah 🤍

#jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts smut #bts fluff #jeongguk smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts x you #bts imagines #jungkook fic #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook

880 notes · View notes