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#mommy issues made me hot

superhero--imagines · 7 months

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He’s literally obsessed with you - With the Bat Boys

A/N: trying out these fucking ugly banners again because y’all seem to like them and I need the internet-good-writer validation points.

Dick Grayson

* He’s a simp bro

* Just because he’s hot doesn’t mean he isn’t hiding a whole horde of daddy and mommy issues isn’t into you

* He trails after you like a lost puppy and he would kiss the ground you walk on if it didn’t make you a little concerned

His breath brushes against your calf, a tender kiss placed on your knee.

He’s done this enough for you to know it’s not sexual.

“I can do it myself Dick,” you murmur, cheeks hot as you watch him kneel on the ground, his nimble fingers working to untie your shoes.

“I know you can.” His eyes sparkle when he looks up at you with a smile. “But I want to do this for you.” He grins when you hide your shy smile behind your hand, setting your shoes to the side and placing a soft kiss on your ankle.

Jason Todd

* He’s in between terror and bliss

* Jason doesn’t understand how you meant so much to him so fast

* It’s simultaneously thrilling and terrifying how much you occupy his thoughts and time

* But for better or worse, he can’t seem to let you go

He can’t tell what’s warmer, the heat from your body or the heat radiating off from his face.

Here he is, face bright pink with the heart of a sixteen year old boy in a man’s body, falling in love for the first time.

And you’re asleep.

You’ve turned his whole world upside down, and made a mess of his mind—and now you’re getting the best sleep of your life using his chest as your personal pillow.

And he has no room to complain since he’s enabling you, wrapping his arms around you rto keep you pressed securely against his chest.

Because the only thing scarier than holding you close, is having you somewhere he can't reach.

“I can't believe you made me fall in love like this,” he murmurs, pressing a sweet kiss to your hair.

Damian Wayne

* He really embodies “hard to the world, but soft for my girl” vibes

* This man has never done a chore in his life, but if you’re feeling out of it or overwhelmed, watch him at your doorstep with a broom and apron

“Damian I support you in anything you choose to do,” you start, “but do you know how to use a washing machine?”

“Of course I do my love, I’m not a savage.” But the fact that he’s putting dish soap in tells you otherwise.

He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit.

#batman imagine #Batman x reader #Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd imagine #Jason Todd #Jason Todd x y/n #dick Grayson x reader #dick Grayson imagine #dick Grayson headcanon #dick Grayson #Damian Wayne #Damian Wayne x reader #Damian Wayne x you #Damian Wayne x y/n #dc comics imagine #superhero--imagines

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uluvjay · 5 months

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Christmas Realizations-D. Ricciardo

Daniel Ricciardo x wife! Reader

Christmas morning with your small family makes Daniel realize he wouldn’t mind another kid…as soon as possible

Warnings?; SMUT; breeding kink, unprotected sex, p in v, light fingering, slight cum play?, cursing, kissing, pregnancy, basically porn with a plot.

Day 5 of my ficmas celebration!

The sound of the bedroom door creaking open along with the soft struggles of his daughter climbing onto the bed is what woke Daniel up.

Opening his eyes he was met with the large toothless smile of his four year old, Gracie. The little girl was all Daniel on the inside but her hair and everything else was all you.

“Daddy, Get up it’s Christmas!” she beamed, face right in front of his.

“I am up baby, calm down” he laughed at her enthusiasm before continuing, “We gotta get mommy and Ollie up first.”

The small girl went to issue another complaint but was quickly interrupted by giggles as her father pulled her into his arms and blew raspberry’s into her cheek.

“Daddy! That tickles.” The girl laughed at the feeling of his beard against her skin.

The beautiful sound of their shared giggles is what woke you up to, turning to face the giggling pair you were met with large smiles as they realized you had woken up as well.

“Mommy! It’s Christmas, we have to get Ollie so we can go see if Santa came” the four year old beamed.

“Okay why don’t you go wake him up, me and daddy will be right behind you.” You replied softly, running a hand through her soft hair.

“Okay!” She cheered, sliding off the bed she took off down the hall to do her favorite part of the day, waking up her little brother.

“Morning Mama” Daniel smirked as he pulled you into him, his ringed hand taking place on the curve of your butt.

Your lips pulled up in a smirk that mirrored his as you leaned in and locked your lips, it was slow but hot and Daniel found himself releasing a groan as your tongue slipped into his mouth.

Pulling away from him you placed one more peck to his lips, “Morning daddy.”

And with that you were rolling away from him and pulling on your slippers to make your way towards your son’s room.

“Wait! Honey that’s not fair.” He grumbled, standing up to adjust the not-so-subtle erection in his pajama pants.

“Dad come on! You’re taking foreverrrr” your lovely daughter dramatically spoke once her father met the three of you at the top of the stairs.

“Oh hush the presents aren’t going anywhere.” He laughed as her little body took off down the stairs.

“Good morning my little man” Daniel smiled towards his son as he took him from your arms once you all made it to the living room.

“Hi dada.” The little boy smiled at his father.

Oliver Ricciardo was a spitting image of his father, he had everything from the eyes, to the smile, to the curls. You had felt as if it were Daniel who carried him for nine months.

“Ready to open some gifts?.”

“Yeah!” And with that Daniel sat his son down and watched him run over to you and his big sister on the carpet and begin to rip open the gifts that had taken you countless hours to wrap.

A few hours later after the excitement of new gifts had died down and the kids were finally laying down for a nap Daniel found you at the sink washing the dishes from breakfast.

“Hi mama.” He spoke as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Hi Danny.” You smiled

“So, I was thinking..”

“Oh god, that’s never good.” You laughed at the pinch his fingers left on your waist.

“First off rude, secondly I’m being serious.” He spoke softly.

At the sound of that you turned the running water off and turned to face him, you were met with warm but serious eyes.

“What’s been going through that head of yours?” You asked, hands moving up to wrap around his neck.

“Have you thought about having another one?” He asked.

“Another what?”

“Another kid, I mean Gracie started pre-k this year and watching her and Oliver this morning made me realize just how fast the time is going. Plus My contract is up in two years and I already told Christian I was done after that.

You stayed silent as you took in his words, kids had always been something you wanted and while your two held your heart in their small hands you knew you wanted another, but it was hard with Daniel being gone so much.

Noticing your hesitation Daniel spoke up again, “I won’t pressure you into another one, but think about it, we have the room and the process is pretty fun.” He smirked

He knew he got you at that, he didn’t buy a five bedroom house for no reason and the baby making sex was always some of the best sex you’d ever had.

“I guess a third one wouldn’t hurt.” You blushed.

“Yeah?” He asked, hands that had been contently resting on your waist moving down to your ass.

“Mhm”

“What d’you say we start right now?” He smirked down at you with darkening eyes.

“Daniel the kids are upstairs.” You giggled as his beard tickled the sensitive skin of your neck as he began to place kisses on the skin.

A surprised gasp escaped from you as your body was spun around and bent over the sink.

“Gotta be quiet then.” Daniel spoke in your ear as his body bent over your back.

He kissed down your cotton covered back until he reached the waistband of your pants, hands quickly pulling them down to reveal your cotton panties.

“So wet for me baby” he cooed, running a thick finger through your folds.

A shudder ran through your body at the feeling of his fingers coming into contact with your dripping folds, a shaky breath coming from you at the feeling the coldness of his wedding band as he pushed his ring finger into you.

“Danny, please.” You begged.

“Please what baby? What do you need.”

“Need you to fuck me, wanna be full of you.” You pleaded, turning your head to try and get a a glimpse of him.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up? Want me to fuck you nice and full?” He growls.

“Yes, please Danny, please” you beg, smirking when you hear a breathless “fuck” behind you and the sound of his pants hitting the floor.

A small groan escapes Daniel as he pumps himself slowly, his free hand coming to rest on the back of your neck for leverage as he slides in slowly.

A choked gasp comes from your throat at how thick he is, it didn’t matter how many times Daniel fucked you it always felt like the first time.

However he doesn’t thrust up at first, teasingly grinding his hips allowing you to feel every ridge and vein on his cock.

“Daniel please go faster, wanna make you a daddy again.”

That was all it took for Daniel to lose his remaining self control, his hips snapping against yours at a fast pace while his hand remained on your neck to keep you in place.

Bringing a hand up to quite the lewd sounds escaping you wasn’t worth much because soon Daniel had a fist of your hair and used it to pull your back against his chest.

“Can’t wait to put another baby inside you, watch your stomach grow. Fuck your so hot when your pregnant.” He groaned into your ear, lips moving down to kiss along your neck.

Something carnal takes place in you when his hand comes to rub your stomach, hand going right over where your bump would start to form once you were pregnant.

“Dan-fuck, so good” you cried at the feeling of his tip nudging your most sensitive spot.

He turns your head to lock your lips, his mouth swallowing your cries as he continues to fuck into you at an ungodly pace.

His hand leaves your hair and a deep cry leaves your mouth as both of his large hands cup your breasts under your bra, fingertips pulling and pitching at the skin.

“Can’t wait to watch these grow, watch them get all swollen for me.” He growled.

His hands return to your waist as he begins fucking you harder and harder, his hips moving at a pace you’ve never experienced before. His movements never falter even as you reach a hand back in attempt to slow him down, he knows you can take it, and he knows you want this as bad as him.

“D-fuck, Daniel!, to much.” You cry as the pleasure completely takes over your body, the fire in your lower stomach getting hotter and hotter.

“Squeezing me so tight honey, fuck-can’t wait to fill you up.”

Daniel is met with loud cry as a he watches your body shake below his, hands gripping onto the edge of the sink for dear life.

“Danny, ca-can’t take anymore.” You cry as he continues to fuck you through your high, hips moving wildly as he chases a high of his very own.

“Almost there honey, just hang in there for me.” He groans, hands holding your waist so tight, he knows there will be bruises tomorrow, but that’s a problem for tomorrow.

You feel his thrusts become sloppy as a loud groan of his own escapes his throat, warmth spreading inside you as he paints your walls with his release.

“Fuck” he groans, chest heaving as he finally caught his breath.

“You good honey?”

His laugh fills the air as you give him a thumbs up, still a bit dazed from your orgasm. Gasps released from the both of you as Daniel pulled out.

You move to stand straight up but a hand on your back stops your movements, throwing your husband a confused look over your shoulder you move to speak but the feeling of his fingers running through your folds cut you off.

“Shit!, Daniel what the hell.” You cried.

“It’s dripping out of you sweetheart, gotta keep it in there. Make sure it sticks.”

February 14th, 2024

You smiled brightly at Daniel as you handed him the long box that was sealed with a pretty red bow.

“What? Honey this is unfair, I would’ve got you something. I thought we agreed no gifts.” He spoke once finished his bite of steak.

“Be quiet and open it.” You laughed.

With a taunting mock he opened the box, eyes growing wide as he looked at what sat inside.

“Shut up, are you serious?” He asked, holding the stick in his hand.

“Mhm”

“We did it? We’re gonna have another baby!?” He beamed brightly.

You nodded, breath getting stuck in your throat as the tears began to fall and within seconds Daniel was up and pulling you from your chair into his arms.

“I love you so fucking much.” He cried, pressing kisses all over your face before his lips finally found yours.

It was breathtaking and full of pure love, his hands tangled in your hair to keep you as close as possible.

“I love you more.” You smiled once the two of you parted.

“Do you know how far along you are?” He questioned.

“No, I took the test after I realized I had missed my period, probably no more than six weeks.” You spoke.

He gave you once more sweet kiss before he dropped to his knees in front of you, sticking his head under the skirt of your loose dress as he placed light kisses on your stomach.

“Hi baby, it’s dad. I know you probably can’t hear me yet but we love you so much and we’re so excited to watch you grow and eventually meet you. Now watch out because I’m taking momma upstairs to celebrate.” He spoke and with a finale kiss he was back on his feet and picking you up bridal style.

“Come on honey, gotta go celebrate.” He smirked as he took off up the stairs towards your bedroom.

#daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #f1blr #f1 fluff #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #jay’sficmas

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avtrbee · 6 months

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safe

✢ summary: just like everyone else, sometimes megumi just wants his mom.

✢ tags: mentions of the death of a pet, implied satoru x reader

✢ a/n: my friend has psychoanalyzed me with a diagnosis of mommy issues and i have always denied them. then i caught myself reflecting on what type of fanfics i write. especially this one.

Ever since Megumi had started school in Tokyo, he was barely home. Of course, he comes home every now and then, and living within the school's dormitories is part of the high school experience- hell, even you stayed in the school when you were a student- but the house is quiet without him, too quiet, which is probably why he does not go home as often as you'd like- that, among other things.

Everyone in your household knew that Tsumiki was what made your house into a home. Your girl always greeted you with a smile and volunteered to make hot meals for the family when you and Satoru didn't feel like cooking. She was warmth, she was energy, she was life. Until she wasn't.

The house became cold without its fire. You couldn't blame Megumi for wanting an escape from the halls that still echo her memory. Which was why you were surprised to see him sitting on the couch with his arms resting on his thighs, hands buried in his face.

"Megumi?" You call. "I didn't hear you come in."

His head lifts up and looks at you. "Liar," he accuses. "You can sense my cursed energy miles away. You knew I was coming home as soon as you felt it ."

His words were harsh but his tone was not off of his usual deadpan manner of speaking. You can't help but smile. He is still the same child who refused to sleep unless he clung to his divine dogs, Tsumiki, you, or Satoru (reluctantly, of course) in some way. He claimed it was for "warmth."

But he knows you as much as you know him. As he made his way to the house, you noticed something- his cursed energy was off. It was more powerful than usual. Of course, it could be a good thing- perhaps he was doing really well in school, but his downcast eyes and even broodier vibe are telling you otherwise. "What's wrong?"

Megumi leans back on the couch, sighs, and contemplates. He stares at your wall that is decorated with framed pictures and pictures you memories from his childhood. You've even framed pictures of his drawings- usually doodles of his shikigami.

He stands abruptly. "Never mind," he dismisses. "I don't wanna- I don't want to talk about it. It's childish and stupid-"

"Stupid enough to make you retreat back home?" You ask. You watch as your question sinks in through Megumi. Slowly, he sits back down. You sit on the other end of the couch.

"What's wrong, 'Gumi?" You ask again. "Tell me." I can fix it. Whatever it is, if I can fix it, I will shouts your inner thoughts.

"I lost one of them," Megumi whispers.

“Oh, Megumi, I-” you say, racking your brain for something to say. Deaths in the jujutsu world is so common that when you’re within the industry for too long you get used to it. “Losing a colleague- this won’t be the first time, baby. Nor will it be the last.”

“No,” Megumi groans out frustrated. There are tears streaming down his cheeks that he angrily wipes away. “My dogs. I lost one. I- Yuki died.”

Your heart breaks at Megumi’s childhood name for his white demon dog. “‘Gumi, I’m so sorry-”

You move to his side of the couch, wide arms open. Megumi falls in, just like he did when he was small. Megumi feels himself melt in your hold, his walls and defenses crumbling away like ash.

Megumi refuses to cry at all times but when you have his arms wrapped around him he finds himself not caring at all. It was like his heart recognized you too.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck and you pretend not to feel his tears.

You hold him until he lets you. Megumi is the one to pull away, and you never do. This boy js fickle with touch, and you always leave the duration of your hugs to his discretion.

You cup his face in your hands, thumbs swiping away the tear tracks. You’ve never seen Megumi this heartbroken before.

“I told him to scout the area and I just left him for a second- and he-” Megumi hiccups. “His head was on the wall. The curse threw his head so hard it made the pavement crack.”

You do not pretend to know his pain for you will never feel it. Megumi’s divine dogs were his first achievement. He smiled the first time he summoned them, even as Satoru threw him in the air in joy. Those dogs would trail after him in the house, obeying his command. You would turn a blind eye to the spare pieces of meat Megumi throws under the table just so they could taste cooked beef.

Megumi would refuse to let them go even when he slept, and was upset that they would disappear when he rested or lowered his guard. As a present, Satoru gifted him customized stuffed animals of the dogs that he never slept without. You were sure he packed those toys with him in the dorm.

When Tsumiki volunteers to run errands, Megumi would summon a dog and follow her. Just in case. They both always came back safe.

“He just did what I commanded, he was good, he was a good boy.” Megumi said, in a quieter voice.

“The best,” you agreed. “But didn’t Yuki merge with the other one? Isn’t that how your technique works when one of them dies?”

“It’s stupid-” A glare from you was all it took. “It’s not the same,” he admits. “I just want my dogs back.”

You give him a sad smile. You pull him close for another hug, and he melts in your arms once again but this time, he does not pull away. You hold him until his tears have dried, until his breaths slowed down, and until his eyes closed for a well deserved rest.

extra note: yuki apparently means snow in japanese. get it? snow=white demon dog (im not creative at all yall)

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru #jjk #parental megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro

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sacred-algae · 6 months

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One of my favorite things about BG3 is that the main 7 so perfectly encapsulate how the average DnD party interacts with each other.

And not only that but you can tell a lot about what their players would be like!

Shadowheart was made by the edgy bisexual “good Christian girl” who’s discovering herself in college for the first time away from her family. She’s falling out of her faith and her friends are waiting for her to crack. She thinks playing DnD is so rebellious of her. She WILL become emo after this is over

Halsin was made by the secret nudist in attempts to live vicariously through his character but has now revealed ✨things✨ about himself, and is totally unaware of it but everybody else knows it and just love that he’s having a good time

Lae’zel was made by a dude (probably straight and cis) who just wants to play as a hot fantasy chick

Gale was made by the most nerdy autistic boy who just wants somebody to date. Anybody. He’s really not picky.

Wyll was probably made by a trans man with. Idk why but he was. He doesn’t even have trans vibes to me but his player does

Karlach was made by a lesbian with mommy issues who’s never played DnD before, didn’t know if she’d like it, but got dragged into it by her friends who “know she’ll like it” and they were 100% right (and she and Shadowheart’s player WILL end up dating)

And Astarion was made by a gay person who is infamous for torturing every single character they create. They kept his character under wraps during creation but then announced on the first day of the campaign that this would be their, quote, “magnum opus of fruity traumatized characters”

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #shadowheart #halsin #gale of waterdeep #wyll ravengard #lae'zel #karlach #astarion #larian studios #dnd

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taegularities · 4 months

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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

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norman-fucking-reedus · 1 month

Text

Daryl Dixon, born to be a sweet mamas boy but forced into severe mommy issues. I will literally bury myself in this grave

Like okay sure the bad biker boy with a dominant streak is hot or whatever but realistically under all those layers of steel and dirt there’s nothing but a damaged boy.

I think about Daryl dating a woman of a motherly nature and how it would utterly fuck with his head. She’s more on the traditional side and usually expresses her love through cooking as well as baking.

At first, he doesn’t like any of it at all. The way you always want to cook for him when he literally didn’t ask you really bothers him, to the point he found himself not eating whatever you made out of sheer stubbornness, not knowing each plate was your indirect way of affection.

He doesn’t like the way you persistently try and get him to talk to you, because why do you even care? Sometimes the two of you will argue and Daryl will just storm away after a string of insults. He feels so gulity afterwards, especially when he knows that he really does need someone to talk to.

The hugs are the worst. The way you suddenly hug him makes his skin burn and he fucking hates it. Not physically, but he pushes you away. It’s what he wants of course, to not be around you and your forced niceness.

It’s what he wants of course, to be alone by himself. No background noises or smells. He can’t hear the way you passionately move around the kitchen or smell the mouthwatering smell of whatever you’re making. That’s what he wants.

When he comes back from a long run, so obviously shaken up and disturbed, there’s nobody to try and pry as to what happened even though he knows he needs to get it off his chest. That’s what he wants of course. He doesn’t need comfort, no. He never did. Never ever.

So why did he need it now?

Daryl thinks about you and how you did so much for him without him even lifting a finger, how you willingly put in the effort and he just threw it all back into your face without a second thought. He thinks about how hurt you he must’ve left you all the times he flat out refused even your prettiest dishes.

He thinks about the concern that etches your face when you practically beg him to talk to you, beg him to tell you what’s wrong so you can maybe help him. Daryl feels his chest tighten when he thinks of how he downright pushed you out his life, and feels a lump forming in his throat when he realizes that he needs you.

He was alone with only himself and his thoughts, ones that frightened him to his very core. He thinks about your hugs and how he yearns to feel the burn of his skin against yours.

Daryl wants to go to you, but he’s scared. He’s scared that you’ve already moved on and found someone better, someone worthy of a woman like you. He scared that you won’t want him anymore yet here he stands, nervously on your porch.

He’s not ready, no event in his life could have prepared him for this. He knocks with a shaky fist and can hear the sounds of his quick breathing.

The door opens just as widely as it always has, you standing there in your apron covered in flour. He thinks about turning around, you’re obviously busy with things much more important with him. As he opens his mouth to speak, you cup his face gently with soft floury hands as if insecpting it.

“Somethings bothering you”

Daryl nods, and he feels like he could melt into your hands.

You usher him inside, closing the front door and shuffling to the couch, dismissing his silent questions about his shoes. He joins you on the couch with a little space between you, he’s not sure how angry you are with him.

Daryl wants to apologize, he wants to beg for you to let him try again and let him do it right this time, but he just can’t find the words, twiddling nervously with his fingers in his lap. You watch him for a moment, reading his limited body movement before reaching up and brushing away a tear Daryl didn’t even know fell.

“Tell me what’s hurting you” You whispered, voice warm and comforting as your fingers danced across his cheek.

He found himself choking on the words, stuttering them out as he slightly flinched away from the contact although he desperately wanted it. “M-m’sorry. Fer being a dick to ya” Daryl mumbled, leaning back towards your hand. “I jus- I got scared”

You raised a brow. “You? Scared? Scared of me?”

He nodded. “I don’ understand wha’ ya want from me”

“I don’t want anything from you, Daryl… I just wanna take care of you and be there for you”

“Why? Why someone like me?” Daryl scoffed. “M’nobody”

“You’re somebody to me” You whispered.

“Wha’ did I do to deserve ya? Ya don’ even know me” He turned to you, the tip of his nose a light red and his eyes glassy.

You took his face between your hands once again, placing a soft kiss to his forehead. “But I do. I see it, Daryl. I can see all the hurt you’ve been through, everything you’ve pushed away, down, all of it. All you’ve ever known is pain and my sweet boy, I’m gonna take it all away for you” You smiled, pressing your forehead against his.

Daryl’s heart pounded so hard that he feared it would exploded, more full of love than its ever had the chance to be. You held him as if he was made of the most fragile glass, brushing your nose against his as he sniffled.

“I love you” Daryl suddenly blurted, because he had denied himself of the truth for so long. He wanted to be with you, wanted you to take care of him.

You gave him another smile, this time placing a gentle kiss to his chapped lips. “And I love you too. Say, I was in the middle of making a cobbler, but I just don’t have anyone to lick the spoon…”

Daryl raised a brow. “Is it peach?”

“Only cobbler I know how ta make” You tugged him off the couch, and he followed you into your beloved kitchen, stepping foot into it for the first time. He thinks about all the times he watched you twirl around, cooking something with love only for him to completely disregard it. The thought made him visibly upset. “Something wrong?”

“Jus’ wish I appreciated yer cookin’ more s’all” He mumbled, regret written on his face, even more when a twinge of hurt painted yours. It was clear as day his past actions really did hurt you.

There was an awkward moment of silence, before you handed Daryl a peach. “As long as you appreciate it now” He could almost cry from how many chances you willingly give you, chances he just didn’t deserve.

“Yeah. M’gon appreciate you too, how I should’ve from tha’ very start” Daryl whispered, biting into one of the sweetest peaches he’s ever had.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

oof I made myself cry and this isn’t even that good 😕😕

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #norman fucking reedus #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #twd #daryl x female reader #daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #twd daryl dixon #daryl twd

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soggyriceee · 10 months

Note

Hey could u do Königs reaction to his f partner having a tummy bulge in the yk? Love the way you write 🫶🏻

so small~ | Konig

thank you anon for your request <3 tummy bulge's are so fucking hot to me so I defo had fun writing this

summary: Konig reacting to you having a tummy bulge during your first time

warning: gentle to rough sex, unprotected p in v, praise, female!reader, established relationship, breeding kink

"come on maus.. I know you can take it" he mumbled, sliding the rest of his length inside your cunt. you hand covered over your mouth, trying to stay quiet as your parents were right next door. they had come over for your college graduation and were extremely excited for you. but Konig seemed to be a lot more excited for you.

"gonna stay quiet right? gonna let me use this pretty little cunt of yours?" he groaned, sliding halfway out before thrusting right back in. you nodded your head quickly, looking up into his hooded eyes. he smiled down at you, pressing a kiss onto your temple. "such a good girl" he cooed, sliding all the way out this time before shoving himself all the way back in. your muffled whimper didnt go unheard by him at all, in fact it only prompted him to move his hips against yours faster.

his head dipped into your neck, his lips sucking hickies onto the most noticeable spots. you cursed him in your head mentally, but you felt so much bliss in this moment, your couldn't tell him to stop doing anything. " so fucking tight libeling.. such a tight fucking pussy" he moaned, his hands gripping onto your hips. your eyes pressed shut, palm becoming sweaty from all your muffled moans. " wanna s-start a family with you libeling.. wanna... make you.. a mommy." he moaned breathlessly. his hand that was on your hip moved up to your boob, holding it in his hand.

his lips latched onto your nipple, looking up at you through his lashes. you looked down at him, eyes hooded. he pulled away from your nipple, a string of saliva between his lips and your nipple. that same hand was on its way to your clit when he felt something on your tummy. he looked down, worried at what it was. but that worry quickly faded away when he noticed it was just a tummy bulge. from his fucking dick.

he smirked and looked up at you, your eyes drifting to where his once were. " see that libeling? see how full you are of me?" he whispered, pressing down on where his dick popped out. your head pressed back into the pillow, toes curling into the sheets. his eyes fell back onto the bulge, watching it reaper and then disappear. this only made him wanna fuck you faster, and so he did.

he placed his hands back onto your hips, lifting them slightly so your back alone was pressed into the mattress, hips in the air. this angle quickly became too much for you, his tip hitting right at your womb. a painfully good feeling you had to admit. the moans and whimpers that were once muffled by your hands were no more as both your hands went to grip his forearms. "look at it libeling.. can barely f-fucking take me" he groaned, eyes still watching the tiny bump in your tummy.

your mouth fell open, pretty whimpers leaving your lips. your parents were the last people you were thinking about right now. konig was quite literally in your guts, and you could do everything but remain silent. " k-konig im c..close" you whined, looking into his eyes. he looked up at you, sweat covering his body. "hold it." was all he said before moving his hips faster. as if you could even hold it. his dick rubbed so well on your g spot, the tummy bulge only adding to the sexiness of what was happening.

"wanna stay in t-this pussy forever libeling.. fuck its s-so good" he whimpered, head falling back. the sound of skin slapping filled the room, alongside your moans and his. you were sure your parents were awake now, but that was an issue to deal with in the morning. "s-so close.. gonna fuck t-this cunt full of cum.. and you..better take a-all of it." he groaned, his head falling forward.

you were dangerously close to spurting all over him, and he knew it. the way your pussy was throbbing around him, sucking him back in. the sound of your slick squelching together made him go absolutely feral, his eyes going back and forth between your bulge and your dripping cunt. " c-cant hold it..anymore" you cried out, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "cum for me baby.. fuck cum all over me" he whined, looking down to your cunt.

he watched as your cum sprayed onto his abdomen, completely covering his cock. he mouth fell sightly ajar, watching how your cum dripped town to the bed sheets, even onto his balls. your whole body trembled below him, tears of pure pleasure seeping through your lashes. "oh i'm g-gonna cum m-maus.. please milk my cock baby, please" he moaned, looking into your tired eyes. your pussy clenched around him again, his begging making your pussy throb all over.

his hips picked up in both speed and force, the bed hitting against the wall behind you. but he didn't care. not one bit. his hand found your bulge again, pressing down on it. "fuck i'm cumming maus I-i'm.. fuck!" his hips thrusted deep into yours his head falling into your neck. he whimpered into your neck, holding you close to him. " f..fuck" he whispered, his body falling limp onto yours. your arms wrapped around his neck, pressing a kiss onto his forehead. " my parents may kill you" you said into his ear. he chuckled and pressed a kiss onto your neck.

" thats a tomorrow issue".

#cod #call of duty fan fiction #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #konig #konig smut #konig fanfiction #konig x reader

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hp-hcs · 6 months

Text

mattheo riddle if you beat the shit out of him in a fistfight <3 — mattheo riddle x gn! reader

Requests open

implied Slytherin (non-pureblood reader)

tws: violence… duh

OOC. LIKE AS OOC AS IS POSSIBLE. i am so sorry for whatever this is 💀 i’m like, borderline delirious kind of sick, so that’s my excuse ig 😌

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

homeboy is not doing fine

his bruised ego 😔

he’d been teasing you for years with his group of lackeys, and you just snapped

he made a comment that went too far about your blood status, talking shit about your family

you just dropped your shit, spun around, and decked that mf

obviously he wasn’t fuckin expecting that, so he just kinda froze like 👊💥😳🧍‍♂️

he has no idea what to do

((he’s also just a little bit turned on bc manwhore duh))

everybody in the hallway freezes too like,

“you dumb bitch the fuck are you doing??”

his friends are jeering, and he just kind of shakes his head like a goddamn etch-a-sketch and like, gently shoves you back by your shoulders (cause you cute bae 🩷 he don’t wanna ruin that pretty face of urs <3)

you, on the other hand, are just ready to FUCK someone UP

and if that someone turns out to be the dark lord’s son, c’est la vie

he makes one more lame attempt at a scathing comment and you just fucking TACKLE him

you’re on top of him (not like that you silly little sluts get your mind outta the gutter) in the middle of the hallway just beating the s h i t out of him

homeboy has no idea what to do lmfao

lowkey he’s falling in love just from your knuckles smashing his face in (masochist manwhore)

he def thinks it’s hot as fuck

one of the professors comes to separate yinz, (probably hooch, cause there ain’t no way she puts up with any shit) and has to fucking DRAG YOU OFF of him

he's got like, a broken nose, a busted lip, a probably-going-to-become-a-black eye, and yk, decimated ego

but he’s just looking at you with those fuckin PUPPY DOG eyes

🥺

congrats, he’s obsessed

he won’t shut up about you for the rest of the day, to his friends, his enemies, madam pomfrey when he’s in the hospital wing…

they're all like “ah. i see the mommy and daddy issues are making an appearance”

when you get out of detention and go back to the common room, he LEAPS off of the couch and over to you

you’re standing there with still-bloody knuckles and a try me, i dare you face

he apologizes profusely, like, to a kind of pathetic extent

you’re like “dude, you’re not pureblood either, dipshit”

he got called out 😔

you apologize for OvErReAcTiNg (you had to apologize as part of your detention & punishment lmfao) and getting ‘unnecessarily violent’

and cause manwhore he’s just like “oh no it’s fine that was hot”

y/n: 😶🤨🫠

he’s got a lil giggle ✨

literal heart eyes for you

so ur like “yeah i gotta mess with this guy even more”

you kiss his cheek and make his brain stop working

baby is bluescreening rn

he then ends up shadowing you for the rest of the week, following a half-step behind you wherever you go like a lil puppy

(i’m of the opinion that he’s just a slightly more violent golden retriever white boy)

((i’m not saying himbo but himbo))

walk him like a dog, sis

alexa, play lovefool by the cardigans

he’s ur bitch now, enjoy <3

#harry potter #hp #fuck jkr #hp x male reader #x male reader #gay #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x male reader #mattheoxreader #hp x gn reader #x gn reader #hp x nonbinary reader

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flkwh0re · 5 months

Text

Broken

Warnings: Mechanic! Natasha, G!p, Age gap, Public sex??, Mommy kink, Pretty much smut with no plot.

Summary: Your car breaks down, luckily the hot mechanic can help ;)

A/n: Sorry that this is so short and not the greatest :((

You had a long day at work, and you just wanted to be home curled up on the couch with a good book but no. You were currently on your phone trying to quickly get help, because you car broke down. Call after call you finally got someone to come help. She was a tall, buff woman, covered in grease. Her tank top hugged her abs wonderfully, and you couldn't help but stare.

"Evening sweetheart, I'm Natahsa." She spoke out, you returned a small awkward smile. " Hi, Y/n." You reply shyly, her demeanor slightly intimidating you. You guide her to your car, but you're absolutely clueless as to what happened so you try your best to explain. "Don't worry about it, I'll find out sweetheart." The way she spoke gave you butterflies.

You watched her closely as she bent over the hood of your car, soft grunts escaping her lips as she searched for the problem. "Ah, there." You hear her say, hoping that she's found the issue. You watched as she raised up, "Sweetheart, do you mind seeing if your car will start now?" God that name is going to kill you. You slide into the driver seat, turning the key and the engine roars to life. A flow of relief washing over you.

Natasha walks up to the door, "Welp, there ya go." You smile, thanking her. "Oh uhm, how do I pay you?" She smiles, "Just a check will do." You begin to rummage around for your check book, with no luck you try to find your wallet in hopes she'll accept cash pay. Your heart drops when you realize your wallet isn't with you. "I can't find my wallet." You tell her, fear lacing your tone. A smirk paints her face, "Don't worry about it sweetheart. Come with me." You get out and follow her to the other side of your car.

She unbuckles her belt and unbuttons her pants. "Wait what?" you stutter out. "C'mon pretty girl get on your knees and suck mommy's cock." You're just utterly confused, but you do as she says. You drop to your knees and help her remove her pants. Your fingers slip into the waistband of her boxers. You mouth drops open, when her cock jolts out. She has to be a whopping nine inches, with perfect veins gracing her length.

Natasha smirks, watching you react to her size. You wrap your soft lips around her tip, swirling your tongue. Her hand comes to your head, guiding your mouth down to sheath her cock in your mouth. She thrust her hips, fucking your mouth. Sounds of gags fill the air, you just pray no one drives by.

"Fuck, you look so pretty sucking my cock like that." She chokes out, as her head is thrown back in please. You continue taking her cock down your throat, bringing her quickly to her orgasm. A mixture of cum, and saliva drip down your face. "God look how pretty you look." Your face turns a light shade of pink at her praise.

She helps you up, and starts to unbutton your pants. You try to protest, but you're so eager for her you can't bring yourself to do it. She slips her hand into your pants, fingers gently grazing your slit through you panties. "Fuck baby you're so wet." She growls. Her hand slides into your panties teasing your clit ever so slightly, her hands rough on you.

Natasha removes your panties completely, then brings her fingers back to your pussy. She adds her tongue into the mix, softly licking at your clit. Her fingers slip into your aching hole, and her lips wrap around your clit. Your legs are so weak then feel like they could give out at any moment, so you try and hold onto Natasha the best you can.

To your luck, no car has driven by yet but that doesn't stop your worry. "Natasha can we please hurry." You ask weakly. She smirks into your pussy and mumbles, "Why sweetheart? Scared someone's gonna see you getting your pussy ate? Don't worry mommy won't let's that happen." The name she called herself made you groan.

Natasha sped up her pace, and swiftly brought you to your orgasm. She stood up and bent you over the hood. "You gonna be a good girl a take mommy's cock?" She questioned to which you eagerly nodded. You felt the head of her cock gently rubbing against your slit. She pushed her length into you, fucking you slowly so you could adjust to her size.

"Fuck you feel so good around mommy's cock, it's like you were made for me baby." She rasped. Your walls hugged her cock so well, it drove her insane. The sounds of you moans, her groans, and skin slapping could be heard. You were sure that if someone drove by you wouldn't even notice, but at this point you just didn't care anymore. You needed her.

"Fuck baby, mommy's gonna cum. I'm gonna fill you up so good." She slammed into you at a godly pace. Her hands that were on your hips gripped onto you tighter, and her muscles convulsed. Natasha's cum painted your walls, as you dropped onto her cock.

She softly fucked you through your shared orgasm, kissing your back softly. "Fuck baby, that was- holy shit." You giggled at the little ability she had to speak. Natasha helped you redress yourself, while she dressed herself too. "Are you sure you don't want me to actually pay you?" You asked. "Don't worry sweetheart, it's on me. Plus this was great payment." She winked.

Natasha guided you to your car, helping you. "Talk to you later sweetheart." She smiled and waved. You watched her walk to her truck and climb in, then drive away. "Fuck I didn't get her number!" Then you spot it, on the dash was a sticky note with her number saying "Call me".

#natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romonova #fanfic #x reader #wlw ns/fw #wlw smut #gxg

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wanderingxiao · 3 months

Note

hhhhhhhhhh omg ur works are so good!!!!!11! can i request for scara x reader where scara lets us be dominant plsssss (w penetration) this is my first time requesting sooo- THANK YOU ZEPHYRRRRRRRRRR 🥹🥹🥹🥹🖤🖤🖤

Good Boy~

Scaramouche x Reader *NSFW*

Warnings: Fem! Dom, Riding, cursing, teasing, mentions of mommy, praising, begging, unprotected sex, and a creampie to finish 💜

A/N: This honestly got so away from me. It’s longer than I had originally intended. But I hope you enjoy it!! 💜

Frantic flurries of hands gripping at clothing blurred in the eyes of the two passionate lovers. Your hands were rushing up his abdomen to rest over his chest, your wrists pushing his clothing up his body. His own hands hastily unzipping your dress from behind, pulling at the spaghetti straps of your dress to push it off your lovely body that always drove his mind into an animalistic frenzy.

“Mmph~ Scara wait-“ He scoffed softly against your lips, pulling his hands away for a moment to rid himself of his clothing, leaving him only in his pressed slacks with a shiny belt shimmering under the dim lighting. “What? Spit it out.” His hands were on you in seconds, exploring your bare skin and tugging at your bra, eager to get it off and let your breasts bounce free into his grabby hands. “I wanna top tonight.” His muscles tensed, his eyes narrowing in surprise and question at your bold request. “Huh?”

His movements had halted and he was staring at you, his face a light pink in embarrassment and arousal. You held a determined look on your face, and you pushed on his chest firmly, pushing him to fall back against the generous cushion of the mattress. “You heard me Scara. I want to top tonight. I want to make you feel good… Please?” He couldn’t deny your begging and how you batted your eyelashes cutely at him, it always made him weak in the knees whenever you pleaded so sweetly. He couldn’t resist.

Your fingertips were like ice on his hot body, trailing lovingly up his abdomen to his pectorals. The firm sight of his toned abdomen came under your sinful gaze, dirtying him with your mind in the best of ways. Goosebumps littered his pale smooth skin, his cock beginning to strain harder against his pants at your heated touch. “You can be a good boy and let mommy make you feel good can’t you?”

Fuck was that one of the hottest things he had ever heard you say. His mommy issues were flaring up, and all he wanted right now was for you to take care of him in the best of ways. His head frantically nodded, his heart beginning to pound against his chest watching a sly smile spread over your soft lips. Your fingers traced back down his body, stopping at his belt before tugging teasingly at the belt that was snuggly buckled around his hips.

“These are in my way, Scara. Can you move them for me baby? Please?” Your voice was like honey. Sickingly sweet and oh so tempting. His body moved to your will, your words sending a rush of excited anticipation coursing through his veins. His slender fingers toyed with the silver buckle of his belt, slipping it through the hole and pulling the leather out of the loops of his pressed slacks. “Awe, such a good boy. Keep going.”

He flung the belt across the room, not even bothering to look where it might have landed. His fingertips unzipped his slacks, shimmying them down his slender tone legs before throwing them to the floor haphazardly to accompany his forgotten belt. His boxers were tight, a generous patch of wetness visible as his flushed tip clung to the dampened fabric of his boxers. It twitched gingerly under your erotic gaze, sending his stomach into a spiral of hot arousal.

“Mmm, look at you baby. Already twitching. You want me that bad?” You cooed softly to your lover, reaching behind yourself to unclasp your lacy bra. The straps slid off your shoulders seductively, the brassiere falling off your arms and being tossed amongst the floor. Scaramouche’s eyes immediately fell to your lovely breasts. He could feel his mouth salivating at the sight. The undeniable curve and jiggle, the erectness of your nipples, he wanted to punch and suck on them so bad. “Nothing to say? You’re making me shy…”

“Tsk!” He clicked his tongue in distaste when you feigned your shyness, his cheeks beginning to flush in embarrassment at the lack of words that refused to come from his lips. Anything he wanted to say died within his throat the moment you revealed more and more of your body to him. “Just… c-c’mon. I’m gettin’ impatient here.” His eyebrows knit together, his lip getting caught between his teeth watching your expression morph into one of mischief. “So demanding… not even a please? How rude. You don’t wanna be bad do you?”

“N-No… P… Please just fuck me… mommy….” A sly grin spread over your lips, loving the sound of your oh so dominant lover’s shaky voice pleading for you to fuck him like he wants. “See? Not too hard yeah?” He watched with bated breath as your fingers hooked around the edges of your panties, pulling them down just enough for him to see a lewd string of your dripping arousal attached to your panties and your slick inviting cunt. His cock twitched in his boxers, pre-cum pearling from the angry tip.

He swallowed hard when he saw the sinful string snap, his mouth drooping open slowly as slow and heavy breaths heaved against chest. Once your panties were discarded his boxers were tugged down, letting his hardened length smack against his toned abdomen. He could feel your body heat above him, practically radiating a scorching feeling of overwhelming lust and affection. The wetness of your folds rubbed over his sensitive tip, pulling a deep moan from his chest at the feeling.

“Beg me… to fuck you baby~ be a good boy and fucking beg.” Scaramouche bit his lip harder, his eyes focused on the way his tip slid between your folds and brushed so lovingly at your clit. His cock twitched against your pussy, eager to feel the warm tightness of your cunt around him. He let out a shaky breath, finally coming to make eye contact with you as you hovered over him teasingly. “P… Please… fuck me…”

“What was that? I can’t hear you baby, speak up.” Your sly grin drove him crazy. If he knew you would be this hot when topping him he would’ve let you do this a long time ago. His cheeks flushed darker, a sharp glare sparking within his indigo eyes. “Please just fuck me already damnit! F-Fuck I want it so bad… I fucking need it. Please, please mommy, please take my cock in your pretty pussy… Want to… cum inside you and fill you up. Please, just fu- Ngh!!”

Hearing his sexy begging was too much, and you sunk onto him immediately, taking all of his thick girth at once. You both moaned in unison, the generous throb of his cock making your knees grow weak beside his hips. His hands hastily came to rest against your thighs, squeezing the plush flesh between his fingers for support. Your hips rocked back and forth against him, puffy clit grinding against his pelvis sending sparks of electric pleasure through your nerves.

“A-Ahh, Scara, so deep baby… ngh… good boy~” With steady movements, you rested your hands against his abdomen, supporting yourself while you rode his cock. Scarsmouche turned into a moaning and whining mess. God did it feel good to be dominated for once. He hated the idea of being submissive, he needed to have control of his life. Something in his past or something. But right now, letting you take care of him like this, was the best feeling in the world. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Y-Yes mommy… yes… hah!”

“Hah, someone’s feeling- Mmhh!- good huh?” Scaramouche nodded his head, his eyes coming to close as he solely focused on the way your pussy engulfed his cock so perfectly. The lovely curves of your cunt, the warmth, the sounds, the pure bliss of how it practically sucked him in. His hips bucked against yours, the hands on your thighs coming to push you back down. “Mmh! S-So needy, Scara~ C-Can’t even keep -hmm!- y-your hands to yourself!”

“Sh-Shut up! Hah, keep going…!” You grabbed onto his arms, pushing yourself harder to ride him faster. His eyes peeked open slowly, relishing the way your breasts bounced freely as you rode him. His gaze then cast down to the clear and slick sheen that coated his cock from your juices. He watched with bated breath as your pussy took his cock over and over again, appearing and disappearing again and again.

“Y-Yeah, k-keep fucking me… just l-like that, ngh! Keep going, please mommy! Fuuuuck!” He couldn’t help but keep watching, his hips involuntarily continuing to jerk relentlessly up into your bounces. The sloshing sounds of your sexes meeting filled the room, accompanied by the wet smack of his thighs against your ass and both your sinful moans. “Mhm! Yes! Yes, yes, yes, h-hah! Gonna cum… P-Please make me cum mommy!”

“Me too… Mmph!” Scaramouche pulled his arms away from you, pushing himself up to wrap his arms around you tightly. His face buried into your neck, inhaling your scent. You were all around him, clogging his senses and overwhelming his nerves. “Scara! Scara, ahh! C’mon baby… c-cum inside me! Be a good boy a-and fill me up! C’mon! Cum, cum, cu- ngh!”

“Fuck! Mommy!” His hands frantically flew to your hips, forcing your body up and down faster, using your body to reach his high. You could feel his chest pressing against yours, your boobs bouncing against his hard chest and smacking against his skin. His muscles and balls tightened, his cock beginning to throb and twitch inside you. It wasn’t long until he shoved you down harshly, finally ribboning his generous seed into your deepest crevices.

“Scara~! Hah!” Your abdomen was warm and tight, your own body glistening in sweat as you pressed against your lover. You could feel your combined fluids beginning to dribble out of your pussy, becoming flooded with his cum and the gush of your cream around the base of his length. “Hah… g-good boy.” Your praise sent his mind spiraling to the point where he was beginng to be dizzy. From the overstimulation of your cunt squeezing him so tightly or the mind numbing way you praised him.

“C-can we go again?” He looked up at you, his eyebrows creased upwards and a pleading look in his fucked out indigo eyes. Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to enjoy the praise and dominance so much. His hard exterior crumbled within seconds of your pleasure. Your lips curled into a grin, leaning in to kiss his lip softly. If he was going to be submissive for one night, might as well give him his full before his walls began to rebuild.

“Of course~ anything for my good boy.”

Got carried away with this… working on more requests! Thanks for your patience! ;) 💜

#genshin impact x reader #genshin scaramouche #scaramouche smut #modern scaramouche #modern genshin au #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #scaramouche #WXrequests

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

Text

Attachment Issues

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Request | Prompts

“Ooh, you’re not wearing any underwear. Trying to tell me something?”

Your wife just can’t get enough of you.

“Warnings”: Clingy Natty

Smut: Mommy (N), Shower Sex, Oral (R), High-Tech Cum Strap (R). Teasing, Overstimulation, Breeding, Squirting. Jello Legs.

Natasha whined upon waking up to find your side of the bed was empty, she immediately smushed her face into your pillow as she sought your presence, you were her comfort. When her skin touched the fabric she grinned, it was warm, so you couldn't be far, and when she heard the water start running she followed suit, her eager feet taking her right to you.

You didn't even flinch at the door hitting the wall from the overzealous way she pushed it open, you'd clearly been expecting her. Natasha approached you fast, her cold hands sliding beneath your baggy shirt so that she could intimately feel your body. Her hands were innocent for all of two seconds as her fingers swirled around your belly button, then she suddenly dropped lower, and your already sketchy resolve dissolved into shambles.

A shiver ran down your spine when her hot breaths suddenly fanned across your skin, "Ooh, you're not wearing any underwear," the woman purred against the nape of your neck, "Trying to tell me something krasivaya?"

——

You snorted, "Well, it's a common occurrence when someone is getting into the shower."

She smirked. "Would you like some company?"

"Nat," you tried to sound threatening, but as she nibbled on your earlobe your words came out breathlessly, "I have a meeting in an hour."

"You're adorable," she coo'd. You gasped when she abruptly spun you to face her, the way she looked into your eyes felt almost dangerous. "We both know I only need ten minutes to fuck you dumb, any longer and you'd be back in bed with me, which is where you belong anyway."

Before you could protest Natasha pulled you in for a passionate kiss, her teeth dragged your lower lip down, her tongue licked over your teeth, and like an obedient bitch you parted them. Her tongue seamlessly slid over yours, making you desperate for more in seconds, then like a sadist she pulled away completely.

Your body swayed forward at the abrupt loss of pleasure, and Natasha bit back her laughter.

"But you have a mission," she sighed with a sad smile, perfectly hiding the mischievous grin that reflected her intent, her tone then became mockingly stern, "We can't upset the Director."

"Fuck Fury," you proclaimed, tone desperate and she looked at you in mock horror, "That's disgusting, but I wouldn't mind fucking you."

"Please," you didn't care how desperate you sounded, her sneaky hands already felt the heat radiating from between your legs, "I need you mommy, need you so badly, touch me."

"Oh you pretty little thing," the redhead pinned you to the tile besides the tub, her hands lifted your shirt off your body, leaving you exposed to the brutal, cold morning air that was streaming in through the crack in your bathroom door.

Natasha's eyes twinkled with delight as your body reacted, her thumbs rolled over your pert nipples, "Mommy please!" Natasha smirked at your outburst, "Climb on in, I'm behind you."

The redhead slid out of the bathroom, you bit your lip in subtle frustration knowing what she was doing, so you made work of cleaning your hair, and body to possibly save yourself time. You already knew this likely ended with your shaking legs, it always did; you're not leaving.

Honestly, you're shocked Fury hasn't come by to collect you yet, at this point your wife has been holding you hostage. The honeymoon era never came to an end for her, two years into the marriage and she never grew tired of you. As endearing as that was, you did still have an active job with Shield, as did she, and the lack of your presence at meetings was widely seen.

Natasha stealthily slipped in as you were facing away from the icy glass doors, you were rinsing your hair of your final product when you felt her arms wrap around your waist, she roughly pulled your back flush to her front and you whimpered as her strap slapped your skin.

"So desperate," she tutted in amusement as you shamelessly pressed yourself into her. "And to think you acted like you didn't want this."

"Oh fuck," you moaned as her nimble fingers traced over your slit, one of them barely grazed over your clit but your legs instantly trembled.

Natasha carefully brought her fingers up, ensuring the evidence of your arousal didn't get washed away. "Look at that detka," she held her glistening fingers off to the side of the streaming water, and shimmied them about.

"Tell me how much you need me baby," she rocked her hips into your backside and you pitifully whimpered, "Mommy, please, I-I."

"I know you want mommy's cock baby." She spun you around, and smiled maniacally at you, "but I need to taste you first." She dropped to her knees, paying no mind to the pain in her bones, she threw your leg over her shoulder and mumbled, "and you need to work for it."

The second her tongue teasingly licked at your folds you were done for, you screamed out in ecstasy, and Natasha sped up her pace at the wordless compliment to her ministrations. If there was one thing your wife was good at, it was making you forget why you were ever upset with only a few flicks of her tongue.

Every filthy moan or whimper the redhead pulled from your lips was like currency. The more you gave her the closer she came to standing up and railing you into the tiles.

"Mmm," the redhead was pleasantly addicted to your essence, she hardly went a day without your slick's aroma sinking into the skin of her face. Catching whiffs of you throughout the day honestly kept her going, so as she finds herself buried between your thighs she never once ceased her movements. She needed to make you cum, she lived for the glorious moment.

Natasha peered up at you in awe, seeing you so close made her feral for your release. "Let go," Natasha murmured desperately against your sensitive folds, "Make a mess of me my love!" Her tongue seamlessly slid up your slit, slowly she swirled around your clit, your thighs shook then your knees nearly buckled when she went full throttle and sucked it between her teeth.

"I'm going to ruin you detka," she growled out as she kissed up your body, "You can't go on a mission if your legs are out of commission."

For a moment the lust faded, and you groaned, "That was so corny Nat." She chuckled, happy enough that you found her rhyme humorous.

"You love it." You reluctantly nodded and she beamed, her lips then lovingly grazing over yours before she pulled away with a wild look in her eye, "Focus on mommy now krasivaya." With a suave hand she raised your leg up to rest on her hip, bringing you right back to the moment as she wore that cocky smirk of hers.

You whimpered and dug your heel into her lower back, the bulbous tip of her strap pressed firmly against your quivering hole, and the redhead caught your moans of surprise with her lips to yours as her hips rocked forward and sheathed her cock between your walls.

For the sake of your comfort she took her time making out with you, letting you become used to her newest strap; it was red, her signature color, with a wide girth and ridges for veins.

"Are you ready for me to move?" You nodded, your hands instantly gripped at her body for stability. Natasha's hands fell to your hips, and her lips took residence on your heated skin, nibbling gently while her hips contradicted her hips that ruthlessly slammed into yours.

"Look at you detka," Natasha grunted, "So fucking drunk on my cock that you're no longer worried about your silly meeting, how cute."

You weren't even embarrassed as you begged, "Harder please!" Your nails dug into the skin of her ass as you now held onto the plump flesh, a tactic of sorts to hint her thrusts to reach even deeper, and the redhead snorted, "That's a good idea detka, we can’t have your legs work."

After your orgasm suddenly tore through you, effectively sending your entire body into a frenzy of spasms you'd think she'd pull away satisfied, but she didn't; she never, ever did.

Instead she slid out of you, just to spin your body around and slam back into you from behind. Your front smashed into the grey tiles, a cooled layer of condensation covered the shower wall, and that had your entire body sliding against the surface as she fucked you.

"I have a surprise for you," Natasha panted against your neck, her hands now kneading at your breasts as she pulled you flush into her. You groaned as she pushed further into you, but stilled her movements so she could fill you in. “Mommy’s new cock is extra special.”

Natasha hips picked up again, her renewed thrusts were slower, but deliciously deepened and you cried wantonly against her lips when her next whisper permeated your mind, “Mommy’s gonna shoot her hot load into you, you’re gonna love it baby, I had a friend of mine create this off of my charitable design.”

After five years of sex with your now wife you couldn’t believe you were feeling like this. It was a level of euphoria you’d never quite experienced before. It was as if you were out of body, all of your limbs felt heavy, but you never fell because Natasha cherished you too much.

Natasha somehow always finds a way to spice up the sex life you thought was perfected. This whole situation was brought to fruition due to a conversation in the throws of it all. You’d begged her to fuck a baby into you, and she lost complete control of her body at the thought.

The idea of you carrying her child, a delusional thought as she’s barren, made her obsessively determined to bring the fantasy to life. Tony offered up his finest lab tech, himself after she threatened him, and voila—a high tech strap.

“Oh mommy please,” you were so fucking desperate, “Fill me up, I need to feel you.”

Natasha pressed a button on her apple watch, and as her breath became increasingly labored you knew the strap was mutually vibrating. A brief flash of blurry numbers told you it was a timer of sorts, and you were too fuzzy brained to understand the implications. Natasha had only thrusted into you harsher now, she had to grip your hips between her hands

The redheads muscles ached, but it was the pleasurable kind as she gripped your hips and fucked into you with no abandon, as if she had no manners. Your face repeatedly hit the wall as your arms were too weak to respond to your minds request to lean against the tiles, you knew you were going to have a tender face come tomorrow, but for now you didn’t mind.

Not at all… You genuinely loved the beautiful, aching reminders of your sinful escapades.

Natasha grunted when she felt her end of the strap push into her with a desirable tremble. Her teeth sunk into your shoulder as she lurched forward, her hand beside your ear began to vibrate, and after a few seconds you felt a warmth pulsating against your walls. You screamed hoarsely as the rounded tip pressed into the spot that always made you lose it, and as you felt your walls restrict her frantic thrusting you came hard, and then your brain factory reset when the strap head twitched and you were filled with a warm, sticky liquid.

“Fuck detka,” Natasha grinned devilishly against your skin, her tongue soothingly slid over the marks she’d left, “You’re trembling.”

Her words meant nothing to you as you were no longer cognizant. Drool trailed down your chin, and as she kept thrusting the faux cum deeply into you it was trailing up your cheek.

A pained groan left you, and Natasha lost her momentum at the idea of hurting you. She slowed down, but she didn’t exactly stop. A devious hand slid from your hip, over the bulge of your belly, and a nimble finger pressed into your neglected clit making you arch into her.

It wasn’t until you came again, a gush of warmth splattering the both of your thighs, that she brought everything to a stop. She softly kissed your shoulder as she pulled out, and lowered your feet back to the slip mat.

Sweet nothings were whispered into your ear as you continued to shake, but eventually that subsided, and the pressure of your body against her arms lessened enough to trust your tired body to hold you upright for a moment.

Your wife stepped out first, allowing you your moment to breathe as you slowly turned around and leaned back against the wall. She wrapped a towel around her body, then when you were ready to get out she was already holding your towel open with an adoring smile.

You shrieked, "Natasha," the redhead caught you as you fell over the lip of the tub, and as soon as she had you upright she lost her cool and began laughing. "It's not funny Nat! Fury's going to kill me, I can't miss another mission."

"Calm down," she chuckled, "He owes me a favor or two." You looked at her unimpressed. "Yeah, and what happens when they run out?"

"I've been trapped in a bunker with him before my love, the amount of blackmail I have on him could stretch an entire decade." She teased with an obnoxiously hot wink, you rolled your eyes, but decided to just give in, and lean into her comforting hold as she informed Fury in rushed whispers of your tenth cold of the year.

It was February…

After Natasha bid the director goodbye she turned to you with a cheeky smile, "I told you my love, I've got it." She danced giddily. "You're all mine for the rest of the month."

You shook your head with a short chuckle, "You're actually insane." She hummed, and pecked your lips, "And you love me anyway."

"That I do." She kissed you. “As do I.”

She made quick work to help you get dressed, you knew the day was far from over when she only slid a baggy tee of hers over your head before she carried you to the mussed up bed.

"Cuddle me!" She commanded, and you lazily rolled your eyes at her before opening your arms for her to nestle into. Your heart swelled at the way she sighed contently as soon as she was in your arms, it made you feel all warm inside knowing how much she loved you.

Then she had to ruin it, her hand slid beneath your shirt and rested over the swell of your ass. "Natasha," you groaned as she squeezed your flesh between her hands. "What? It's my stress ball, don't deprive me of my relief now baby."

"You're insatiable."

"Mhm," she never denied it, "So get your rest krasivaya, because mommy will be ready for another round after she takes a quick nap."

“Mommy,” you tiredly giggled, “I can’t wait for us to have our own precious baby, we’ll be the best moms around Natty.” You contentedly sighed as you nuzzled into her bare chest, and slipped off to sleep almost instantly, you didn’t even hear Natasha’s nasal, “Yes we would.” Or hear her sniffle softly. The redhead simply pulled you closer, and fell into a dream with the softest pitter pattering of feet as an echo.

By the end of this year Shield will see your paired retirement, and the world will have lost a hero, while your fetus gained a Super-Mom.

——

2,645 Words

♥️ Kaitlyn 🥹 (Yes, I know that last line was cheesy, but I am a fiend for cheese)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff smut #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #gxg #black widow imagine #black widow smut #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader

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retroellie · 1 year

Text

Breed Me

Summary: After babysitting, you have massive baby fever and would kill for Daryl to get you knocked up. Surprisingly, Daryl isn't completely opposed to that idea.

A/N: The number of pregnant smuts i do just shows my mommy and daddy issues but i crave daddy Daryl so :). Also, me posting 2 fics in the course of 2 days?!?! Unheard of....

Warnings: Breeding kink, Unprotected sex, spitting, squirting

Word count: 5.6K

"Shhhh" You whispered

You rocked Judith in your arms, bouncing her slightly up and down as she cooed softly. You had promised Rick you would watch her while he fixed up at a farm that was once again being eaten up by bugs and animals small enough to get in the fence. You didn't mind watching her, you actually enjoyed it. You were holding the baby up with one hand and the other you were making her bottle, shaking it up so it was nicely mixed and there was no dry formula to be seen. When you felt the formula was all mixed in with the hot water, you placed it in the little one's mouth and she took it like a hungry man would with food.

"Oh you're hungry aren't you? Huh?" You chuckled

You held the bottle for her as she sucked down the milk, only stopping to catch a breath every once and a while. You rocked her once more, walking over to sit down on one of the picnic tables that were sitting underneath the makeshift roof you guys had put there so the food was protected by rain. You watched her with admiration, her eyelids too heavy to keep her blue eyes open. Her little hand wrapped around your much bigger finger, almost as if to thank you for the bottle you just made for her.

You weren't the biggest baby type gal but Judith was the cutest baby you had ever held, her little features and her soft tiny wisps of hair. You got really bad baby fever when you watched her, seeing as you too could have a small child in your hands but it would be yours to call your own. It sounded like a dream to you, if only the world hadn't gone to complete shit when you were just starting to get your life in check and you found the love of your life. Life was unfair to you like that.

"Good morning Y/N!" You heard, looking up to see who the voice belonged to.

It was Carol, she walked towards you with a smile on her face. Carol was your best friend, she had been with you through thick and thin. A lot of people would question your relationship with her, saying how a young woman in her 20's shouldn't have best friends with people as old as her. There was Maggie or Beth, you guys would definitely have something in common. But no, you chose to hang out with carol. She was more of a mother figure to you, especially since you had lost your mom to the virus and she lost her daughter.

"Mornin' carol! sleep well?" You asked, shifting the baby slightly in my arms.

"It was alright, still getting used to all the people and the noise. Every little sound i heard i grabbed for my knife, it's torture." She explained

You watched as she made her way to the makeshift counter that held all the makeshift kitchen appliances. You would have to agree with her there, it was usually always just the small group y'all traveled in and now there's so many more people to worry about. At night you would hear other's snore, groans and moans, babies crying? It was a bit overwhelming for you, especially when you got so used to glenns sleep talking and Carl's soft snores. The only thing that stayed the same was daryl, his firm grip on you as you slept in his arms will always be there. No matter the place you slept or how many people were in the room, Daryl would always be touching you in some way.

"I made coffee and by the sound of it, you need it." You chuckled, drawing your attention back to the baby now sleeping in your arms. "I made it before this little one woke up." You said, each word becoming more and more like a baby voice.

"Ugh, you're a lifesaver Y/N!" Carol said, going right to the steaming coffee in the makeshift coffee maker.

The bottle had gone empty, not a single drop left to be drunk. You were genuinely surprised of how fast she drank it but the smile that crept on your face as you saw her small features at rest dropped all the thoughts you had. She looked calm, peaceful. It created a deep twinge in your heart that made you desperately want a baby, you're not sure if it was your motherly instincts or it was the purity that a baby brought into someone's life that you craved. You had seen a lot in the last couple of months, you're not even sure how long it had been to be honest but a baby's purity is what you needed in your life.

You couldn't make it through college or buy a house or even marry the person of your dreams, the world had gone to shit and there was no government left but you still had a body and a man who would get you pregnant in a heartbeat if he could. 'If he could' was the key, if it was the old world, he would make sure you got pregnant in the old world but it's just different now. not only is he so much older than you, which would've been a problem anyways, but he wouldn't want his kid to grow up in this world. It was too gruesome, too risky and he didn't want that for his kid.

"How long do you have the little angel for?" Carol asked, bringing you back to life.

You got up to place her bottle in the sink which was made from a bucket. You rocked her gently, you didn't want to wake her up from her peaceful sleep.

"Uhh, only a couple of hours. Rick needed to fix up the farm and I told him I could watch her." i replied

The wind blew softly under the roof, blowing on the child's bare face which caused her face to scrunch up and then relax back when you wrapped her blanket closer to her face. I smiled down at her, turning over so the wind wouldn't disturb her slumber.

"Well if you need help or a break, you can come find me! I don't think I'll be going out today, I might stick back and help with fence duty." She smiled, pouring some coffee into a plastic cup.

"Thank you, but we'll be okay! I plan on sitting out in the field to write a bit today, though jude would like to help me." you said, smiling down at the baby as she cuddled closer to your warmth.

You wondered about how you would be as a mother, it was only a small amount of time that you babysat Judith so how could you actually know if you'd be a good mom. Were you even ready for a kid or was it the baby fever that was starting to rest in the pit of your mind. There was always fear with the process of it all, especially now with the world being what it is. You're starting to think you should stop baby sitting so much, because recently, especially when babysitting, you have found yourself thinking about having kids.

"Morning sleepy head!" You heard Carol say cheerfully, almost annoyingly. It was evident who she was talking to, you know she liked to annoy only one man.

"Mornin'..." Daryl grumbled back.

You looked up from the baby to be met with Daryl walking over to y'all, his signature vest was the first thing you saw. Then your eyes scanned down his body, all the way down his hair covered face to his toned arms and then finally to his crotch. You bit your lip as you watched him walk to the counter, grabbing a bowl to pour some food into it. Everything he did was a huge turn on for you, it could be something simple as literally just walking.

Carol had been chatting him up, probably asking for some special requests for when he went out today. You were too enthralled by him to even register what they were talking about. You could see the hickeys on his neck from last night which had you blushing. You weren't going to lie, he was touchy, yes, but you were just as bad, maybe even worse. You couldn't keep your eyes off him let alone your hands, he was just so arousing in the best way possible.

You always felt so annoying with how needy you were when it came to him, you were always asking to be kissed or held or even fucked mercilessly until you couldn't walk the next day. Daryl loved it though and he made sure you knew it too because honestly Daryl felt embarrassed about being older than you, so you begging him to touch you only gave him confidence.

Daryl grabbed his crossbow, throwing it across his shoulder, still conversing with Carol about whatever they were talking about. You had stopped staring off into space and watched as Daryl picked up his bowl, walking off to you. He smiled at you, reaching over to you to grab your hip.

"Morning' sweetheart." He whispered, bringing you in for a kiss.

It was a quick peck, only lasting seconds but somehow it still had you melting into him. When he pulled away you bit your lip, looking up at him. He chuckled, even trying to be sweet, he still got you all worked up.

"Morning dar..." You smiled, going to peck his lips once more.

This one was longer, one of your hands cradled the baby and the other wrapped around his neck to keep his lips interlocked with yours. It felt where you needed to be, in his arms as you cradled a baby between the two of you. That housewife mentally you had never quite gone away, especially with daryl. If he wanted a housewife, you would bend over backwards just to be the perfect housewife for him. You pulled away from him, lips red from his facial hair rubbing against them. He licked his lips, chuckling as he looked down at Judith, touching one of her cheeks with only one finger and rubbing her soft skin.

"Hey there little ass kicker..." He said softly as she shifted in her sleep, cooing and letting out a sigh before going completely limp again. He chuckled slowly. "You stuck watching her today?" He asked you

"mmhmm" You nodded, comfortingly brushing her hair back so her hair wouldn't tickle her small nose. "We're gonna go to the big oak tree and write, maybe have a little picnic together while we're there."

You looked up at him, catching his eyes already at you. His hand, which was placed on the small of your back, made its way further down, resting on your ass as he bit his lip down at you. You so badly wanted to rip off his clothes and take him now, just everything about him made your stomach do turns.

"You look so sexy right now, you being so..." He whispered, stopping when he couldn't find the word he needed in this case.

"Motherly..." you whispered back, giving him doe like eyes.

He nodded, hand tightening around your ass as his breath hitched. He could already see you all filled with his baby, it made his hands shake violently and his mouth go dry. You then reached up, moving your mouth to his ear and whispering.

"If you come back to me in one piece, i just might let you fuck a baby into me..." You whispered so quietly; he thought maybe he didn't hear it at first.

He then choked on his own spit, looking down at you in horror and arousal all at the same time. The thought made all the blood in his body go straight to his cock, trying to swallow down his gasp.

"Okay, I made the list! Just look for the tiny red pills, that should be Alberts heart medicine" Carol called out.

This caused the both of you to jump, daryl hurriedly retracted his hand from your ass and shoved it in his pocket so he could fix himself. You giggled as he did, he turned to carol. She was presenting him a paper. You just continued to rock the baby, watching down at the sleeping child. Daryl went to snatch the paper from Carol, but Carol pulled it away quickly.

She looked between the two of you, seeing how flustered Daryl had gotten in the span of a minute or two and how his lips were red from the small makeout session you had just had, maybe even noticing how tight Daryl's pants had gotten all of a sudden. She squinted her eyes at daryl, a small smirk played on her lips.

"Just follow the list, this is an important Daryl! I know you have some distractions..." she smiled over at you, who was cooing down at the baby. "But I mean it, don't forget anything okay?"

Daryl scoffed, snatching the paper from her. He just shoved it into his back pocket, not really needing a loss for the very few things that were needed.

"I got it" He said sternly, walking past her and to the gate.

To say you were excited for his return was an understatement, just thinking about it created a dull ache between your legs. You just counted to do what you told Rick you would do, which is watch his kid and make sure she doesn't get into any trouble.

Easy enough.

You love Judith with your entire heart but dear god that child was a little shit. She spit up all over you, pulled chunks of your hair out, and even ruined your book you had been reading by chewing on it. So now you are finally childless, in your small cell that you shared with daryl. You were brushing your hair out, you tried your best to wash the spit up out of it but it still smelled of it.

Although you came back a mess and your back almost broke from carrying her everywhere, the cute little moment you had with her made up for it. She would grab onto your hair when you fell asleep and she would giggle when you read to her, as if she knew what you were saying. you were still tempted with the baby fever, wanting nothing more than your own little one.

You had come back smiling, taking out your hair from the braid it was in and taking off your spit up covered shirt, putting on one of Daryl's much bigger ones. The room was cold, the stone cell causing you to shiver. You really just wanted to collapse on the bed right now, sleep until the morning but you were obviously going to stay up waiting for daryl like you always did.

You honestly forgot about your little promise you made towards him, you were completely and utterly with the child… no thoughts besides her in your mind. So you just went along with your night like you always do, cuddling up in bed with Daryl’s shirt on and a good book in your hand like always. You hadn’t been sitting there for 5 minutes before Daryl came bursting into your shared cell, the metal barred door screeching against the floor.

He held his crossbow on his shoulder, his backpack sitting on his other one. He looked dirty, completely bloodied and bruised. It was evident he had been through hell and back this time but he still came back to you. You looked up at him and smiled, dropping your book so you could greet him. Daryl set down his things, bending down to not break anything but when he stood back up he was met with you.

You jumped on him, bringing him into a hug as if you hadn’t seen him in years. He hugged you back, hands wrapped around you roughly. You were trying to have an innocent moment, the babysitting duty you had creating a softness in you… but Daryl had other plans for you. Your words haunted him the entire trip, his dick so painfully hard against his jeans that he sometimes had to take a minute to just breathe. It tortured him, the words carved into his brain. His hands were rough, gripped into your hips bruisingly hard. You loosen your hug, his hands still attached to your hips.

“You smell like shit..” you joked, smiling up at him. Daryl chuckled, reaching down to peck at your lips and bringing your hips closer to him once more.

“Shit or not I still came back… and in one piece.” He started, pecking your lips here and there as he spoke. “And I’m pretty sure I was promised something if I came back in one piece.”

That’s when you remembered your teasing promise you had made, how could you forget? Maybe you had forgotten so the ache was less painful or maybe your mind was completely shut off, you have no idea but the thought coming back to you had your cunt clench. You needed him, you fucking needed him so badly. You lust for him suddenly coming back to you all at once.

“Then what are you waiting for…” you said, voice soaked with lust.

Daryl let out a grunt, a low deep grunt that he didn’t know came out until he heard it. He didn’t waste anytime, engulfing your lips with his as he massaged your hips. You tightened your arms around his neck, bringing him so close so your stomach was hitting his. You could feel every twitch that came from his dick, it hit your stomach perfectly and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together.

Daryl’s kiss was rough, rough enough to bruise your lips, be bit and lapped his tongue around them. He had waited all day for this moment and he was going to savor it. He bent down, grabbing at the back of your thighs and lifting you up with ease. You wrapped your legs around him, gasping slightly as his cock was now pressed around your cunt that was only covered with a thin piece of fabric.

Daryl led you to the desk that was in your room, slamming the door shut before making his way over. He placed you on the wooden surface, your legs still wrapped around him tightly.

“Thought about this all fucking day…” he moaned, his cock twitching once more… thinking about your sweet cut being filled with his cum. “Can't wait to fill you up.”

You moaned at his words, hands lowered to unbutton his shirt so you could see all of him. He knew what you wanted, taking his hands off you so he could help you but not breaking this kiss. The kiss became sloppier as you both focused on getting his shirt off, you could feel his tongue massaging yours roughly and your teeth clashing.

When his shirt was successfully unbuttoned, you attempted to pull it off but it was getting caught on things, frustrating you. You wanted to feel his chest against you, while he fucked you roughly. Daryl pulled away from the kiss, pulling his shirt off for you when he realized how frustrated you were getting. He dropped his shirt to the floor, seeing your kiss bitten lips as you breathed heavily watching him.

It was the first time he actually looked down at you, admiring you for the first time that night. You just looked back at him, eyes scanning over his cut and bruised body. You were shaking with lust, you couldn’t control your body if felt and Daryl just chuckled at how much you craved his body on yours.

“Dirty slut…” he spit out, moving his hands down to the hem of your shirt to pull it up over your head.

He didn’t hesitate to attach his lips to your nipples, you gasped as his warm mouth wrapped around one of them, hands grasping onto the edge of the desk. He licked and sucked at them, even rolling one of them between his fingers. You could cum from just this, the heat of him and his mouth on your sensitive nipples. You tried to muffle your mouths, embarrassed by how needy you had become for Daryl that you didn’t want anyone else to hear.

Daryl noticed your shyness and only sucked on your tits harder, wanting to hear your pretty moans as he fucked you hard and deep. A particular hard pinch made you moan out loudly, back arching up into his mouth. He looked up at you, watching your head thrown back as your pussy clenched around nothing. You needed him so bad that you could beg, you wanted to feel his cock pulsating inside you all the while he fucked your baby into you.

“Please Daryl just fuck me… stop teasing…” you moaned, louder than you wanted too but you couldn’t hold back anymore.

Your cunt had dripped onto the table beneath you and had made a mess out of your favorite panties. Daryl couldn’t deny you when you begged like that, he was so worked up he just couldn’t with the begging. So he did what you wanted him to, he stopped his abuse on your tits and picked you back up in his arms, plopping you down on the bed.

He undid his belt, his hands fumbling with it and then he ripped it off. You watched his every move and he watched you, he watched as you tried to hide your wet pussy away from him simply because you were embarrassed about how wet he made you. He then bent down to capture your lips in a kiss, your already kiss bitten lips trying their best to keep up with his lips.

Daryl set his knee on your aching cunt, allowing you to buck your hips on it, you attempting to dull the ache. He let you occupy yourself with that while he grabbed your hands, pulling them tightly together above your head as he wrapped his belt around them. You were too focused on humping his knee to realize what he was doing, which was exactly his goal… he didn’t have time for you to squirm.

“You know the safe word bunny?” He asked, sitting back down on his knee while he unbuttoned his pants. You whimpered at the loss of friction from his knee, you had quite literally became a whimpering mess and a completely fuck toy for him.

You nodded at his words, it took a minute for you to comprehend his words but you made them out eventually. Your body was hot, your face red and your eyes glassy. You watched as Daryl pulled his pants down his legs, his underwear being the next to go. You struggled against your restraints, the leather of his belt rubbing against your soft skin.

“Daryl??” you breathed out, the words coming off as a whisper. He looked up at you, holding his cock in his hands and pumping it lightly. You watched as he tried to hold back his hips from bucking up into his hand.

“Yeah? Is everything okay? You need me to loosen the belt?” Daryl asked, rapidly questioning you while you squirm underneath him. You shook your head, breath heaving up and down.

“Just…. Don’t hold back please.” You stated, doe eyes boring into Daryl’s.

This made his dick twitch, it felt so unbelievably hard it was starting to hurt now. He sent a smirk down at you, leaning over you once more but this time it was to do exactly what you needed him to do. He peppered you with light kisses, making sure you felt as comfortable as he could make you.

“Oh don’t worry bun… I won’t.” He growled out, continuing his light kisses on you as he ran two fingers down your body. “Gonna fuck you so hard… cum inside you over and over and over again until your tummy is full of me.”

His fingers dragged down to your panties, hooking two fingers underneath the waistband to tear off of you. You shivered as your cunt felt the cold air of the room, your wetness dripping down your legs. His words and his actions had you on edge, knowing with only a few touches from him your come undone. It was strange how only a few touches, kisses, and words from Daryl could have you cumming in minutes.

“Gonna breed you like the slut you are…” Daryl grunted, moving your legs to rest above his shoulders. “God… the things you do to me Y/N!”

Daryl could have stopped at this position, it would definitely have you cumming in only seconds… but Daryl almost completely folded you in half. Your knees were brought down to rest by your ears and your feet by your hands that were tired with only a belt. Daryl watched your face, making sure this position was okay with you. You were too lost in lust to even acknowledge the painful position, so Daryl kept you like that but slowly spread your legs further and further until you were in full display to him.

Daryl brought his cock up to your heart, slowly thrusting his cock along the wetness of it and hitting your bundle of nerves. You gasped as he did this, slowly teasing you with his cock until you could literally not handle it anymore. You were cock starved, you were going to go crazy without it. Daryl smirked at what he was doing to you, he brought his hand down to your mouth.

“Spit” was all he said and you did exactly that.

You let your saliva drop down into his hand and he gladly took it, rubbing it on your cunt along with his cock. He needed all the lube for this position, not wanting to hurt you or make it painful for you. You bit your lip hard, blood being drawn as it slid down your throat.

Daryl lined himself up with you, pushing himself into you until he was fully inside you. You went cross eyes for a minute, moaning as he had already found your sweet spot. Daryl stood there for a minute, letting you take him in and feel every inch of him. He wanted you to know thats what you will be filled up with for the rest of your life, no other cock with fuck you anymore, only him from now until forever. You squirm underneath him causing him to press down on your legs more, bending them until they were resting against your chest.

He moved finally, starting off at an animalistic pace and not even giving you time to breathe before he started abusing your cunt. You couldn’t even help the moans that fell from your lips, they were almost screaming as his dick was quite literally inside your guts. Your hands grabbed for the metal pole of the bed, grabbing into it for support. You grabbed on it for dear life as if it was the only thing keeping you down on this earth.

“Fuck so fucking tight for me, huh, bunny?” He grunted out, hips snapping back and forth violently. “Your pussy was made for me… your pussy was made for me to fuck a baby into.”

His words only made your moans louder, strangled moans coming from deep in your chest. You wouldn’t be surprised if someone thought you were being murdered, walking into your room to only see you folded in half while Daryl abused your cunt. That only added onto the fun though, Daryl would get a power rush from that, knowing that the person that walks In now knows that he’s the only one who can fold you in half like this and you would simply let it happen because you were such a slut for him.

Your cunt clenched around Daryl, he knew that meant you would be cumming soon so he set his hands on your thighs and applied all this weight onto them, lifting himself up using them. This position allowed him to fuck you deep, feeling him deep in your cunt and causing something to just flick deep down in you.

Your back arched into him, your head being thrown back as you screamed. It was too much, his full weight being on top of you and his animalistic pace… it caused you to lose your vision and I not being focused on Daryl grunts. You could see static, light white dots dancing across your eyes as you gripped whatever you could get your hands on. You were fighting against the restraints, rubbing your skin raw.

“Da…i…. Fu… i ca…” you could literally not get a single word out, Daryl knew exactly what you were trying to say though.

“Go ahead bunny, cum on my cock…” he grunted, giving you permission to soak his cock.

The coil down in your belly couldn’t take anymore of it, your toes curled and your hearing went… it was mere seconds before it snapped and your cunt pulsed violently on Daryl’s cock. Your juices came shooting out, soaking Daryl and his cock. This didn’t stop him though, he kept his animalistic pace while fucking you through your orgasm. He was so close himself, his nails digging into the back of your thighs.

“Gonna cum… can’t handle your fucking pussy anymore…” he grunted, his voice coming off in choppy moans.

You were so high, you were somewhere not on this earth as Daryl’s thrusts sped up and became messy. His moans got a bit deeper, grunting as he made one last fast movement than cumming deep inside you. His hips trembled as he came, filling you up to the brim with his cum. He stayed there for a minute, allowing every single drop of cum to fill your insides, he then dropped onto you. His cock still filled you, your legs shook as they slowly dropped beside him.

Daryl trembled on top of you, his skin on your slowly bringing you back to earth. You both laid there, sweaty and sticky. Your hands still above your head, Daryl’s face buried in your neck and his cock nestled deep inside you. You have fucked many times before but it never was this good, it never left you both speechless like this. It felt there were no words to speak, there was nothing to say other than small curses and moans.

It was about 5 minutes you stayed like that, until Daryl pulled himself away from you and pecked you on the lips. He slowly took himself out of you, watching as his cum gushed out of you. He stuck in two fingers, trying to keep it all in but you winced… your abused cunt not able to handle it.

“Sorry…” he stated, reaching over to untie you.

You lowered your arms, shakingly placing them on your stomach. Daryl watched you, feeling as if he needed to take care of your exhausted body. He made you feel good, yes, but he wore you out and he felt bad. He just rubbed your hips softly, watching you blink slowly. You were sore, your hips feeling like they were run over by trucks but you were content. The thought of having a baby rushing your mind.

“You with me bunny?” He asked softly, his voice raspy.

Your eyes trailed to him, his hair tangled and stuck to his sweaty forehead. You smiled, nodding your head weakly. You wonder if these moments will ever stop when you're big and pregnant or when you have a baby in your arms. Will you both be so in love with each other? Will you have small moments where you just stare into each other’s eyes while coming down from your highs? Will sex even be an option?

“You think it worked? I mean did you knock me up?” You joked but genuinely wondered. You didn’t feel any different, will you even feel different when it happened? Daryl dragged his eyes to your core, cum still seeping out of your cunt.

“I mean it should, I filled you up pretty good.” He said, almost proud of himself. No, he was proud of himself. He not only fucked his girlfriend until she literally fell off the face of the earth but he also probably most likely fucked a baby into you.

“Don’t act all smug asshole…” you rolled your eyes.

He chuckled, bending down to peck your lips but you wrapped your arms around him so he had no choice but to stay on your lips. You once again wrapped your legs around Daryl, already ready for another round and Daryl was completely okay with giving you it too. His lips were soft against yours, hands caressing your thighs that were placed delicately on his hips. You should be wore out, you were wore out but Daryl being on top of you like this… watching his face as he came deep inside you… you needed more.

You rutted your hips against Daryl’s, feeling his cock get hard again. You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the knots that laid within his brown locks. He pulled away from your lips, looking down at your kiss bitten, red and puffy face.

“Bunny…maybe we should take a break.” He said, moving a hand to move a piece of hair from your eyes. “ I don’t want to completely exhaust you.”

You knitted your brows at him, rolling your eyes as you gave him the dirtiest look. He really thought he would tire you out that much?? You could literally never turn down Daryl’s attempts to make you feel good, like ever. You could be in the softest mood ever and than Daryl shoves his cock down your throat… than suddenly your a dirty whore for him. He had that kind of effect on you, it was inevitable.

“Daryl… this is probably the only time you will ever allow yourself to cum inside me! You think I’m going to stop at one round?” You replied, acting as if he was crazy for thinking something like that. “Plus I want to make sure it works, I want to make sure I’m knocked up by the end of the night.”

“Jesus Christ woman you’ll be the death of me…”

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead

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