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satoruhour · 8 months

Note

i need geto to grab my chin, stroke my cheek with his thumb, then spit in my mouth. maintaining eye contact the whole time? ugh. he’d de say “good girl”

ST☆RGIRL

a/n: yuuuum anon u guys r giving me the best ideas. also combining this with the geto in the brother’s bsf universe bc a lot of u have been asking for pt. 2, altho asking for a part two is pretty annoying. but i wanted to do a second one anyway lol. i made our brother gay btw + read the first part here / tagging @omgeto @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @slttygeto @kazushawty @peachsayshi

wc: 3.7k

warnings: secret relationship(?), soft dom!geto, reader is not a virgin but it’s her first time with geto, you almost get caught but it’s mild, dry humping / grinding, nipple play, spitting (in your mouth), praise, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

sneaking around your brother wasn’t exactly easy, given how they were almost always together by the day — if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were dating instead. the only time you had geto to yourself was in the middle of the week when your brother had gone back to pack more things and to visit his boyfriend, a sure time that you’d show up beaming and excited in front of their double dorm room while geto only gives you a lazy smile, tugging you into the room immediately.

sometimes it was the other way when your roommate went home for the weekend, geto knocking on your door in a wife beater and sweats, a small grin and reddened cheeks from running over; the prospect of hanging out with you always gets him speeding over.

his room was for wednesdays, yours for the weekend. a sweet little arrangement for the both of you.

now, geto suguru was the best boyfriend. he made sure you were always okay with his touches, his kisses. he had a silent way of caring, covering the top of your head when you reached down to pick up something under the table, refilling the trusty mug of water you brought around in the small dorm of yours, tidying up your table for the immense studying you’d be doing. it was the little things that you never noticed before you got addicted to him, but now it’s all you can think about when you gush about him to your friends.

and well, maybe, how good he was at teasing you.

no doubt suguru has had experience with other people before from how he always has you wanting more after a simple kiss, lips separating from yours to shoot you a quick smile and a gesture of manoeuvring you onto his lap. his touches are never-ending, rough, large hands spanning the beauty of your body as he names off feature after feature he’s noticed mature since you’ve both grown into adults. he makes the idea of wearing clothes abolutely offensive, grinding up into your centre and watching you fall apart, only to stop when he feels your hands tighten around his shirt.

geto knows you’re not ready, not when you’re doing some pulling away of your own as his hands creep towards your chest, fingers closing around his wrist before he can reach the buttons of your pants. all you can give him is a flustered smile, stuttering out an excuse with frantic hands. he just lets you — swallowing your apologies and tugs you into his embrace and talks about the newest tattoo he got instead — “we can just kiss and grind, baby. you tell me when you want to stop, okay?”

although you never do, makeout sessions always end with your hair in all places, your panties soaked and your lips swollen, not a single line crossed on geto’s side every time. it was an endearing trait of his; he never rushed you, never pressured you into “helping” him out, rather excusing himself to the bathroom quietly.

a smile spreads across your face when your phone lights up, the little profile picture of a sleeping suguru taking centre stage of your phone.

[11:43am, suguru (the bsf and now my BOYF???)]: hey baby, he just left. u wanna come over?

geto doesn’t even need to ask, because you’re already picking up your pre-packed bag and bid goodbye to your roommate who’s deep in her assignment, not noticing you’re gone until she’s shooting you a text after, asking you if you wanted anything for dinner. eating at the boyfriend’s place, no worries! thanks for asking :)

you’ve reached the other block in record time, amongst other many impressive timings, but while you’ve pressed the lift button and trying to catch your breath, the wind is knocked out of you again when the lift doors part and out comes your brother. you’ve never been so quick to come over before, avoiding situations just like this, but your sibling isn’t phased, simply shooting you a greeting.

“hanging with suguru?”

your breath is shaky when you exhale and you hope he doesn’t notice. “yea— yeah!”

his smile is unassuming, a hand outstretched and you barely make his high-five before he bids you goodbye with too loud of a goodbye, keeping up the clueless act until you’re stopping right in front of their door. your boyfriend doesn’t give you time to breathe, either, door swinging open to your dishevelled state and his chuckle would’ve almost buckled your knees if not for the adrenaline running through you.

“i just saw my brother in the elevator — are you insane?”

geto feigns a pout, “not even a kiss for the boyfriend?”

you roll your eyes with a smile and grab the neckline of his t-shirt, but what he says (“well, you’re the one who came running over, sweetheart.”) prompts you to grunt, shoving him away before you collapse face first into the sheets. they smell like you, you notice, but they’re mostly filled with geto’s natural scent, a calming combination of cinnamon and bergamot. there’s goosebumps on the back of your thighs — suguru runs his hand over it and up to your waist, flipping you onto your side and he coos at your annoyed face, settling into the bed with you.

“okay, no more teasing, hm?” he asks softly and you ignore the jump into your heart. you ignore how his tattoo covered arms are so gentle next to you, how his rougher finger tips brush your hair away like bees on a flower; almost ghost-like, so light, so soft, but you can’t. against your will, you huff, taking his hand silently and holding it, a small frown still present on your face and geto feels bad, now. he leans forward, taking your lips gently and you hate the way how pliantly you obey, sighing as you feel geto move against you.

your hand clutches at the pendant geto bought, a habit you’ve developed every time you feel overwhelmed. it was ironic, too, how the many times you’ve thumbed it was because of geto, and not so much of stressful exams or a weird guy at a party, but that thought’s out the window when geto pulls you onto him, moaning into your mouth when your thighs close in around him.

“you’re okay today, princess?” geto asks against your lips, and there’s no doubt lust swirling in the honey eyes of his — they’re the brightest always in the morning.

“i wanna—” you swallow, “try,” you sit up more comfortably, ignoring the tug in your core, “i don’t want to keep you waiting.”

geto’s brows furrow, “what? no— baby, you’re not making me ‘wait’, if anything i should be the one waiting for you.”

your hands are tense on his chest, he notices, bringing one to his lips before he places a kiss on your palm.

“you shouldn’t be compromising on your comfort to please me, my love,” geto mumbles into your hand, starting to kiss each finger individually until you’re closing your hand around his cheek.

“you’re so pretty,” you mutter softly and you’re jumping in celebrating in your heart when you can feel his skin heat up because your words affect him as much as it did you. you’re leaping for joy because how did you land such a caring lover that would put all your needs first? who’d tell you that you come first in everything—

geto suguru makes this so difficult always, but you’re already firm in your resolution, giving him a solid yes before a small smile spreads across his face, making the act of pulling you down by that same hand. you’re inches away, mind spiralling with how many positions he could put you in but—

there’s a jiggle of the knob on the door and you’re suddenly recoiling.

“are you expecting anyone?”

your boyfriend quickly shakes his head, but he brings you off his lap gently, setting you a safe distance from him. he arranges your hair in place and patting down the wrinkles on your shirt as the other person struggles to open the door and as always, he’s worrying about you, first — until that familiar, booming voice of your brother cuts through the tension and your disappointment is unmatched.

“hey guys!”

geto wanted to roll his eyes, as with you, but your oblivious brother doesn’t take much note of why your chests were heaving and your skin is sweaty, rather setting down his bags full of dirty laundry and the cute anniversary present he was ranting to you about — it felt like your work was undone, reversed, and you’re back to feeling intimidated, no doubt the presence of your brother making you feel like you were doing something sinful.

“so! wait, why do you look so—”

“oh, it’s nothin’, she’s just nervous for her upcoming exam,” geto answers almost immediately, removing the attention from you; it wasn’t entirely false, you realise, giving him a secret smile. “you were saying?”

“oh! yes, so, turns out…”

it’s nearing to the fifteen minute mark where your brother still continues to talk, rambling on about how his boyfriend’s moving date had been moved forward insread, so it was halfway throughout his journey that he got a text saying how it might be too chaotic for them to hang out — boxers, movers, the family dog barking at every stranger.

that heart-twisting, anticipating feeling had subsided by then, and while it was never a dull moment with the two of them, you left that dorm room feeling a little dissatisfied.

“i’m sorry, baby,” geto whispers to you later as your brother takes the chance to pee. he’d volunteer to send you back but the both of you didn’t want to risk anything more.

“next week?” geto asks, a hand to your cheek, “but of course, if you don’t feel it next week either that’s f—”

you give him a small grin, fingers covering his own shaking ones in comfort, “next week.” his lips barely leave your forehead in a peck before the toilet flushes and the door opens; geto teases your brother about not washing his hands and the two bicker just like years ago: hands flying everywhere and your giggles cutting through every insult they hurl at each other.

you can hear geto’s chuckle when you show up the next week, looking like you just ran a marathon again. this time you have no trouble avoiding your brother by hiding behind the wall beside the lift, though you hardly have any time for your boyfriend’s teasing laughter.

closing the door with your feet, you’re walking geto back into the room and his eyebrows raise at your determined face.

“are you sure you’re okay—”

without warning you’re clashing your lips into his, hands on his pecs and mewling softly when his arms naturally wrap around your middle.

“more than—” there’s a dramatic sigh when you feel hands caress your back, “okay.”

you’re just too enamoured with geto to carry on with your once self-assured actions, because you’re always like putty whenever you’re in his embrace. it happens without fail every time.

“you make me feel so,” swallowing, your eyes break contact and your head collides with his broad chest, “insane. you drive me crazy.”

you don’t miss how he winces a little, but soon he’s bringing your head off of him, biting his lip at your cute pouting face, possibly not knowing how even more obsessed he was with you.

a simple text from you has got his palms sweaty, and he goes through at least three drafted messages first before sending something, afraid he’d push over your boundaries or do something you won’t like. geto loves your smile, seeing your cheeks reach your eyes until there’s no more from a joke he made because you were talking about the cute little tattoo his little sister made him get. there wasn’t an end to suguru’s love for you; to see you, to feel you be so flustered and sheepish because of him drives him crazy — did you see the effect you had on him?

you simultaneously ruined and changed the definition of love for him; he’d never have anyone else.

you’re taken aback when geto tugs off his shirt and sitting right in the centre of his sternum is a woodcut tattoo of a halved sun, looking entirely contrasting with the traditional dragon that runs over his body and other ink-heavy pieces littered across his body. this was like a collection of ever-flowing lines that seem to bleed despite the bold lines that signify the end of the sun, it was you. your fingers trace over the tattoo under the protective film, your gasp prominent when there’s a small “to my sun” below it, paired with your initials — ambiguous enough if you were to break up, but geto hoped that would never be the case.

“got this for you last week,” suguru takes your wandering hand into his, words and actions gentle while he kisses the back of your hand, he laughs into your skin, “hurt like crap, i’m not gonna lie.”

“sugu—” your eyebrows are downturned just like your smile, “this is so pretty.” you’re in awe that he’d get something permanent for you, no doubt with such a cheesy line under the beautiful drawing.

“you’re so pretty.” geto smiles when you smile with a roll of your eyes, and you let him bring you into another kiss, softer this time as you let him lead, pulling you to his lap easily.

anyone who looked at the two of you could see the instant difference: geto with his inked arms and room oozing with posters and the gruff nature of him, and you with your bashfulness and sweet smiles and while geto is bound to be noticed first, he would rather sit in the shadows as your moon as he lets you charm everyone you come across. you’re just like that.

geto treats your body like glass, removing your top off of you gently as his hands span your torso and he sighs when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. “look at you…” and you’re giggling, drawing a smile from the other. slowly he looks to you for reassurance and you nod, prompting him to wrap a careful mouth around your nipple. your boyfriend moans when he feels you jerk at the contact, tongue swirling around your mound as he plays with the other and that’s all it takes for your fingers to tense around his shoulder.

“f— fuck, sweetheart,” you hear him groan into your chest, moving to other nipple and suckling on it, eyes closed in bliss while your head falls back, “you’re so perfect, my love.”

“am i, now?” you mumble breathlessly, “you should look at who’s talking.”

geto nods, coming off of your tits with a pop! and the grin he gives you is shit-eating, “yeah, so goddamn perfect.”

you’re impatient now, especially when you’re in full perception, body on display just for your lover to see, and your hips move slowly whilst your skin feels like liquid fire.

“need you, suguru,” it’s a soft whine that comes out of you, and geto moans at your neediness and the rock of your pelvis because he can practically feel your cunt clench around nothing and your clit throbbing, and while you’re both no stranger to this, the idea of going further than whatever you’re used to makes geto dizzy.

“yeah— i know, baby,” you’re on your back after, gulping when you’re finally left with nothing on your body, shorts and panties taken off and the glory of your body is like oxygen to him, “i need you too.”

gently, suguru pries your legs apart and he’s hooked on your wetness, the beauty of your labia and hole, leaking so much slick his breath is shaky when he exhales. the first contact with your clit is feather-like, and it’s all he does before he leaps in and eats like a starved man. the sensations are too much that your thighs are pulled taut, feeling the flat of his tongue draw a line up your pussy.

geto slurps at your arousal, putting pressure in his mouth and sucks like his life depended on it and your sounds are music to his ears. he groans when he feels your hands pull at his hair, tugging away or towards your pussy even he didn’t know but he relishes in how he’s able to make you feel like this.

“su— suguru, s-shit! your mouth’s—” you can basically hear the smile in between the messy eating of your boyfriend, emerging from your plush thighs for a moment to show you just how soaked the bottom of his face was.

“it’s what?”

you tsk at his teasing and you shove him back, ignoring the way his chuckles send chills up your body through your core, but geto is merciful, humming and moving his face against your cunt. his tongue is relentless as well, making you so pliant with just one muscle as he flicks it against your puffy clit. it’s when your entrance starts to clench around air is when he thinks you’re going to cum.

and he stops — your whines are so cute to him.

“what’s your deal, suguru?” your frown’s adorable too, but he makes it up to you with a sweet kiss and lets you taste yourself.

“want you to cum around my cock, baby. you can do that, can’t you?”

yes, geto felt like he wanted to combust. yes, geto felt like he needed a thousand and one photos to capture how angelic you looked right, but with how he’s talking right now, you only can look up at him with excitement despite not knowing the torture you were putting him through.

and so when he first nudges his tip past your hole, that facade drops entirely, eyes fluttering close at the tightness of your cunt and the spread of your pussy lips upon his dick. you were by no means a virgin, although you disclosed that it was a shitty first time when you first lost it, but the way you feel around his cock, closing in around him you both have had to take breaths together.

“so tight…” geto’s close to bottoming out, memorising how he made you fall apart so easily: your hands clutching tightly on his wrists, making your tits pop out more, the flutter of your pussy, your cute lil mouth stretching into a delicious ‘o’. “and so pretty, just like that.”

you hum at the praise and once he’s buried, your little pants become more frequent, leaving puffs of air on his cheek.

“move?”

“are you seriously asking me that right n— oh shit…”

geto unsheathes and slams into you, and he can feel the drag of your walls along his length. a small laugh leaves him, “just takin’ care of m’pretty girl.”

he’s only had your dripping pussy once and yet he already can’t get enough of it, starting to move his hips as he impales you on his cock. it’s the only thing your mind can focus on, feeling so full and filled with him that it hazes your brain and hypnotises you almost.

“su— ohmy g-god!”

geto’s hands tighten around your thighs at that and the thrusts get sloppy so fast, rutting into you with no end goal in mind other than to feel your tight hole around his length. your lover’s eyes fall to the way his cock slips into you and you take it so well — there’s no other pussy he’d want to feel around him, truly — you take the ram of his hips so good and the gushing of your cunt is answer enough for him.

your hands grab for him, fingers fumbling with his forearms to bring him to your lips. the kiss is filled with drool, tongues slamming into each other as his hips stutter and jolt at the clamp of your pussy, and when he pulls away there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to his.

you’ve talked about it before and it’s like he reads your mind before anything even begins; his hand grabs at your chin, so lovingly and different from how disgustingly rough he was slamming into you. his thumb goes over your supple skin, and he doesn’t need much to pry your mouth open but—

“open.” and your tongue comes out like second nature and you try not to show your excitement when geto gathers saliva, spitting the ball of liquid straight into your mouth. it hits your tongue hot. his honey eyes are darker now as he watches how obediently you swallow — he swears he can see hearts in your eyes.

“good girl.” geto smiles again, propping your legs up against your chest now in a mating press and you whine in surprise. the position gives him access to the deepest parts of you, and one hand sneakily rubs at your clit in time with his faltering thrusts and you’re cumming with a cry of his name.

“suguru— yes, yes! f-fuck— right there, baby,” you’re sobbing, seeing splotches of white in your vision as your high seem to overtake your senses. it hits you in all the right spots, giving geto his little gift of cumming around him and multiplying it tenfold by how your cum seeps into the sheets. it’s so much that all he can hear is the lewd squelch of your cunt and one more moan is enough for geto to groan into your neck.

“going to give you my cum, darling,” your “yes’” resonate in his ear and it spurs him on to finally cum, shooting his load deep into your womb and filling you with so much hotness. it’s too much but you love it and geto hisses at how your juices and his semen seem to seep out, “that’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

there’s a sly little grin when he lets down your legs gently and you’ve grasped at your pendant so hard it’s detached, and he quells all your doubts with a single kiss and the sun on his chest.

“i’ll just get you a new one, baby. you deserve that much.”

why did i write sm....

#anon #asks #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk geto #geto smut #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk thirsts #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen geto #geto suguru

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planet-dusk · 1 year

Note

i sent this skz x 9th member!reader to another creator but forgot who it was so i’m sending it here too i guess. enjoy

i féel like the boys would def be little pervs towards their girl member. like “cuddling” her in the car on the way to places, having her sit in their lap during lives and stuff, constantly watching her boobs in tank tops during practice, etc something tells me chan or minho would be the biggest pervs out of the older boys but they know how to be subtle with it. meanwhile jisung and maybe jeongin are the the young ones who go absolutely crazy over anything. like her boobs could be out a little bc her tops are flimsy so they grab a handful and are lowkey fondling her but using the excuse that it’s helping keep her boobs in her bra or something. she’d def be very clueless but not entirely. like she knows that bc she’s a girl and they’re all guys, they have urges too. walking around the house in short and tight clothes, asking sexual questions, singing and dancing to sexy songs, etc they’d probably have a corruption kink too because of her “innocent but not really” aura. she’s innocent in the way that she’s just clueless when anyone so much as hits on her, likes her, try’s to make a move, etc

idk this was a while ago so maybe it’s just ramblings from my brain.

🏷️ perversion, noncon somno for jisung's part, corruption, fingering, oral (f + m), masturbation, unprotected sex, mc is called baby, kitten, doll, pretty, toy, slut

as the oldest and the leader of the group chan should know better. but you're so cute when you wake up early and your eyes are still puffy with sleep. he can't help but let his gaze linger on your bare legs, picturing his face between your thighs. sometimes when you join him on channie's room he'll run his teasing fingers over your clothed slit, enjoying the way you squirm and hide your hot face in your hands, pretending you're camera shy.

"keep still, baby. you know how much the fans love it when you look all cute and flustered."

minho is always helpful, offering you private dance lessons to hone your skills. he can be strict with the other members but he's noticed how embarrassed you get when he praises you. "you're doing so well, kitten," he whispers into your ear while he adjusts your position. you avert your eyes and try to focus on the way your body moves. he's smirking at you through the mirror, his hands skimming your ass more than necessary. when you're all warmed up and sweaty he bends you over and grinds his hard cock against your clothed pussy. "let's stretch some more."

"i know you can do it," changbin encourages when your voice cracks again. he turns off his laptop and enters the recording booth. "hey, don't cry," he wipes your tears away with his thumbs and you sniffle. you're fucking up your lines. badly.

"do you trust me?" he asks and you nod, letting him spread your legs. with a puzzled face you watch him crouch down and nuzzle the inside of your thigh. "you just need to relax, baby... you're straining too much when you get anxious. let me help you."

hyunjin is your roommate. he's a calm and quiet guy so you don't mind having him around. but on some nights you wake up to muffled gasps and groans coming from his side of the room. if you didn't know any better you'd have sworn some of his moans sound like your name. afraid to let him know you're awake you stay quiet and stare at the ceiling. your own hand slips into your pyjama pants to rub quick circles on your swollen clit, desperate to cum in time with him.

"ssh, it's me," jisung shushes you with a hand clasped over your mouth. you blink at him groggily, feeling two of his fingers slipping in and out of your wet hole with ease. he must've been playing with you for a while. "hyunjin's taking a shower and told me to wake you up." he snuggles against your back and you gasp into his palm when he replaces his fingers with his thick cock. "be a good doll for me now, pretty. we don't have much time before he comes back."

felix is the first to turn your relationship with them into something more than strictly collegial. "we're not colleagues, or friends, or family," he tugs you onto his lap and purrs into your ear, "we're something more." his fingers reach into your shorts and press against your clothed slit, making your head spin. "feel how soaked these panties are for me, doll? you know i'm telling the truth. what we've got is something special."

seungmin is your vocal training partner. when you stay late in the studio to practice he stays with you. his unconventional training methods are your little secret; he'd told you the others can't know a thing because they would get jealous, so you do as told. seungmin makes you feel special. you know he'd do everything for his favorite member.

"sluts like you need to have their throats trained," he groans and thrusts his cock deeper. "how else are you ever going to hit those notes?"

jeongin can never keep his hands off you when you're getting dressed for your stages. he gropes at your tits and tugs on your clothes. "these skirts keep getting shorter," he shakes his head and frowns. "everyone in the audience will be able to see your safety shorts. but you know you belong to us, don't you?" he grins and you squeal when his fingers slip between your thighs and locate your clit with ease. the barest hint of pressure against the fabric has you panting, proving his point. "no matter how many people cheer for you, you're our toy."

#stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids hard hours #skz hard hours #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #tw: perversion #tw: noncon #;skz blurbs

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outro-jo · 1 year

Text

little things the dreamies love

pairing: nct dream x reader

type: headcanon?

warning: none? mentions of dog and anxiety

a/n: please read info before requesting

masterlist | info

—————————

mark: when your nails are longer. now, he’s a firm believer that your beauty and hygiene routine is totally up to you but he can’t deny how much he loves longer nails. mostly bc of the lazy head or back scratches you give that practically have him purring in your lap. on days when he’s more tired or stressed, he comes home, laying his head in your lap and takes your hand to put it on his head. you get the idea pretty quickly and give the poor boy what he wants. he especially asks for scratches on nights when his mind is racing and he can’t get to sleep. in less than ten minutes he’s out like a light.

renjun- the way you two can communicate without talking sometimes. for as long as he can remember, you two have just always been on the same wavelength. even when you were friends, it was almost like the two of you had a secret language without even saying a word. it comes in handy when you’re out and either one of your social batteries inevitably runs out. he also gets to shit talk the other members and have you laughing from all the way across the room.

jeno- it’s the way your head fits in the crook of his neck. his heart does somersaults literally every time. jeno first noticed it when he was playing games and you made yourself comfortable on his lap. usually you just rest your head on his shoulder but this time you laid on his chest. you were feeling a bit anxious that day and you knew the steady thud of his heartbeat would ground you. while you were trying to calm down jeno needed to see over you, so he instinctively rested his chin on your head. the second you snuggled in closer, he nearly lost in his game because he froze up for a bit. the way you fit into him was just so astronomically perfect that it was taking everything for him not to lose it.

haechan- donghyuk thought he was sassy… until he met you. you’re so quick and witty and it’s particularly helpful around his hyungs. being surrounded by older peers so often, donghyuk can find himself being teased. since having you around, there’s always a shot right back of friendly fire that’s so well executed that it has him and the other boys rolling in laughter every time. it becomes less fun when he’s the target though.

jaemin- you’re always up for anything. he comes to you with the most random ideas or things to do and you’re always down. late night convenience store run? definitely. randomly rearranging the furniture? absolutely. finger painting like 5 yr olds? 1000%. you also put up with his off the wall thoughts and questions. he’s definitely the type to ask “would you still love me if i was a worm?” at 3 am and you give him an answer even when you’re half asleep. (the answer is yes btw) you never judge him or make him feel weird. nothing fazes you and that’s how he knows you’re his person.

chenle- deagal immediately took to you from the moment she met you. there are many times chenle has introduced people to his baby and she hasn’t taken to them. he was so relived when you two met and she hopped right into your lap. when you’re around, she follows you everywhere like a little shadow. chenle would be hurt if it wasn’t so damn cute. his heart also melts at the way you care for her like she’s your own. every special routine or the way she likes her food, anything for the princess and you do not mind at all.

jisung- he catches you looking at him sometimes or rather, the dreamies caught you looking at him one time. jisung was happily minding his business when you were all hanging out when he got a message in the group chat and it was a picture of you staring up at him like he was the center of the universe captioned, “damn what did our little maknae do to have them falling so hard?” the boys continued to joke around but jisung melted completely. ever since he tries to catch glimpses of you any chance he gets.

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littledollll · 1 year

Note

🕊️

My darling I’ve been stalking and I must confess I need more lucifer x reader with dream content so here’s my suggestion

Prompt~ r is dreaming and dream is with then cause they are sad. R feels like a burden to luci and just wants them to know how truly special they are, but in their little state they can’t seem to find the words. So dream comforts them and suggests r draws lulu a picture.

R wakes up and instantly scurries off to her old room and draws the picture and gives it to luci. all cute fluffy goodness to end~ shy anon🕊️

#shyanon🕊️

Little artist (pt 1/2)

(Little angel universe, side shot)

Morpheus x little!angel!reader

Lucifer x little!angel!reader

A/n: i decided to make this a two parter bc the dreaming part was originally supposed to be a lot smaller, ya boy got excited at the chance of writing for Morpheus, Reader is mostly big in this fic and it’s honestly just fluffy conversation between two good friends, I like how it kinda gives backstory on the relationship Morpheus and R had/have

Warnings: none really, r gets judged for being little in the very beginning and maybe insecurities and overthinking?

Read part two

Dreaming, you noted when you “woke up” missing the warmth of Lucifer wrapped around you.

“You’re still carrying around a stuffed animal? What are you 4? Grow up, you’re so weird.” A voice you recognized, you couldn’t pinpoint who exactly it belonged to but they used to be your “friends” when you still lived in the silver city.

People wouldn’t believe how mean and cruel angels can truly be, they were no better than humans, perhaps even worse.

“At first it was cute but now it’s an every day thing. I can’t deal with this anymore it’s annoying and it’s weird.” A different voice. Your very first caregiver. Slowly you realized your setting, you were back in heaven, and it was more of a playback of memories than a dream.

Your mind ran rampant with insecurities and doubts. What if Lucifer felt that way about you? You never stopped to think about it much since they offered to be your caregiver. But you did kinda push the responsibility what other options did they have? you questioned yourself.

“I never did like him.” Morpheus’ voice brought you out of your thoughts.

“Must you be so dramatic? Do you enjoy plaguing me with nightmares before announcing yourself?” You argued. The scene faded into a new view, fiddlers green. Walking over to a tree you sat under it, Morpheus followed.

It immediately made you smile, your defenses going down as you felt calm. You really did love this place. It was safe and comforting. Most of the time when you regressed in the dreaming it would be here, that tiny feeling running through your bones as you replayed your lovely memories.

“I’m only opening a conversation, giving you a chance to talk, I don’t recreate memories as dreams, little star, that’s all you. You’re worried. Yet when they sleep, they dream of you.” Morpheus always knew just what to say. Maybe it’s because he’s been by you for so many years, probably because he’s been here since time began.

“me?” You laid your head on his lap and hummed happily once Morpheus started petting your hair. You needed to know, maybe it would finally reassure you enough to make the anxious thoughts stop.

Ever the ominous being Morpheus ignored your question and answered with his own. “You’re worried, about what, little star?”

You threw a rock his way with no real intent to hurt him, not that you could, he caught it anyways. “’s like you want me to slip.” The way he was talking to you was intentional, and the petname was a dead giveaway.

“I’ve been replaced, are you blaming me for missing it? And if you want to, allow yourself” His smile told that his words held no real offense, yet you felt the need to reassure him. “There’s nothing stopping you from seeing me, just like you are now.”

Nodding, he countered. “I’m not really needed am I?” His flash of innocent jealousy made you giggle. “I’d miss you, visit me anyways.”

You closed your eyes. Drinking in the familiar peace of the dreaming, you would’ve drifted off had you not already been asleep and quietly, confessed your concerns. “I’m too much, they have so many things to take care of and ’m jus adding more n I feel-” You hated talking about your feelings. You couldn’t go two words without feeling like you’re going to cry or slip, probably both.

He listened intently, he always does, he allowed you space to continue though you seemed against it. “You are not a burden, little star, it has been a great pleasure to take care of you and you can rest assured knowing they think the same.”

you gave him a little hum in question. “In every dream and nightmare, their greatest joy is you and biggest fear is loosing you, never have I seen this in Lucifer, little star.”

If the look on your face said anything you were overjoyed hearing this. “realy realy?” Morpheus was starting to wonder when you’d fully slip, finally. He gave you a nod and you sprung up hugging him tightly. “Hm..”

“What’s on your mind, little dreamer?” you took a moment to organize your thoughts. “wana tells how much I lovs n n preciate!”

“But you don’t know how to tell them?” you nodded. “Well you’re quite the little artist, what about you draw something for them and give it as a surprise?” Your face lit up in excitement.

“Thanks you! Star wakes up?” He tilted his head at you, already? “wana wakes before n make gift!” You stated like it was the most obvious thing ever, of course this was a priority, what else would Luci wake up to?

“Very well tiny star, until I invade your dreams again then.”

(Part 1/2) part two

#the sandman #shy anon love page #cg! dream of the endless #cg! lucifer sandman #sandman agere #🕊️ anon #cg! sandman lucifer #cg morpehus #Little angel (Lucifer x little!reader)#gwendoline christie #sandman lucifer x reader #lucifer sandman #lucifer morningstar the sandman #dream of the endless

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tonberry-yoda · 2 years

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Brrrrr

HELI ANON REPORTING TO- duty-?

H i i ii i

I may or may not be addicted to your writing and its on yu 😤

Down to business 👹

Crocman's wife walking into the living room to see what the father son duo is up to bc it was too quiet

She walked in to see a crocodile who fell asleep holding their son who was fully awake while also holding a storybook

W e l l his son was doodling on his father's face like an artist 😌

I like it picasso 💪

And then much later when reader returned with a camera,

Their son was asleep holding uncapped marker pen with some smudges on his face

After reader left them be, when she passed by again

She saw crocodile awake and obliviously drawing on their sons face unaware of the doodles on his own face

So precious 🥺

you can add much more or yes like usual

Enjoy your day officer 💪💪💪💪

hello my dear helicopter anon! you dont understand how excited i get when you request, literally my favorite writings to do ngl. AND BRO THIS IDEA IS SO GOOD! literally my sister and i were just adoring this idea the moment you sent it! thank you so much for making this series my thing on this account and bro, if you have any baby names for croc's son, let me know because i cant think lol. thanks so much!!! <3333

Croc as a father part 5!!!

Pairing - Crocodile x reader

Warnings - none!

Word Count - 649

Notes - (image below not mine) thank you so much again! i seriously love all of your ideas, you are so creative and amazing! i hope you have a super day and enjoy this as much as i do!!! stay hydrated helicopter anon!! <3

And don’t forget REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!! So, if you want to request any writing, don’t hesitate to ask. Please read my pinned post before requesting though. Have a good day/night and please stay hydrated!! <333

“Darling,” you began flipping through some mail, finding quite a few letters addressed to your husband. “You have a couple letters in the mail. Did you want me to put them on your-”

You paused as you stepped into the living room to find your husband fast asleep and your son wide awake on his lap. Usually, you would think nothing of this but a wholesome moment. What really made you pause were the drawings on Crocodile’s face that were made by your son. There was a drawing of Mihawk and Buggy, a drawing of you, and a drawing of one of the banana gators. You couldn't help but chuckle a bit. You knew you should be getting onto your son, but you just couldn't help it.

“Mamma!” Your child giggled and put his arms up for a hug.

You walked over trying not to giggle at the picture book open on your husband’s large chest, and hugged your son. “Shush baby,” you whispered, placing a kiss onto his forehead. “Daddy’s sleeping.”

Your son giggled and crawled back onto his father’s chest, handing you the picture book that he didn't need anymore.

“Are you gonna stay with daddy, bubba?” You put the book back in its proper cubby and he nodded, laying on his dad’s chest.

“Mhm. Daddy’s warm when he sleeps.” He sleepily lifted up the marker in his hand and drew a small smiley face on Crocodile’s face. You decided it would be best to leave them be for now so you could get some work done around the house.

It wasn't long before your chores led you to the living room where you found your son now fast asleep on his father. His face was pressed to Crocodile’s big chest while Crocodile softly snored, his son drooling on his bare chest.

---

You looked around the house, satisfied with your work.

Damn you were good.

The house was squeaky clean and there wasn't a child up and running about to mess it up. You definitely deserved a treat after that.

You grabbed yourself the nearest chocolate bar and realized that it had been a while since you checked up on the boys.

You went to step into the living room, but quickly stepped out, peeking back in to find Crocodile giggling to himself and drawing all over his son’s face with the washable marker that your son had used prior to draw on Crocodile’s face.

You giggled and stepped in the room, eating away at your chocolate bar. “Good morning, darling.” You pressed a kiss onto Crocodile’s lips and he chuckled, pointing at the smiley face he drew on his son’s face.

“Morning. I just saw this marker and it seems to be safe on skin, so I thought it would be funny.”

You laughed and sat on the floor next to the couch. “I would hope it's safe for skin. You should see your face, dear.”

Crocodile froze. “What?”

You giggled and ran out of the room to the bathroom where you found a handheld mirror. You ran back to the living room and showed your husband his face and he couldn't help but burst into laughter, startling your son awake in the process.

Your son just giggled and hit Crocodile’s big chest, making a soft boom sound. “Dada! You woke me up!”

“Sorry buddy.” Crocodile placed a small kiss on his son’s forehead. “Let's go wash this marker off, huh?”

“Yeah dada! You look funny.” Your son giggled and Crocodile stood up, helping you off of the floor as well.

“You look funny too, kiddo.”

You showed your son the mirror and he burst out laughing just like his dad. You slicked back his jet black hair. There was no mistaking that that was Crocodile’s son.

The two of them giggled all the way to the bathroom leaving you smiling and satisfied with your day.

#sir crocodile #crocodile #sir crocodile x reader #crocodile x reader #mr 0 #mr 0 x reader #one piece crocodile #crocodile as a father #one piece x reader #request #helicopter anon #thank you so much again i love these #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #<3

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theragethatisdesire · 6 months

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Hiii. How are you? I hope you're doing fine, I read your new addition to the poly relationship thing and it was really cool.

I was wondering if you have more headcannons of them? Maybe what pet names Jean and eren use for each other or the love language they have for each other,do they use physical touch or maybe words of affirmation or anything else? Or how they make out. Also do they cuddle (just the two of them)? Like maybe Eren had a bad day or something and I recall you mentioned that eren stops frowning when Jean touches his brows or smth like that. So what if eren had a bad day and he needs Jean to comfort him,do they cuddle or they just hug?

I'm curious about Jean's mom having a hard time with the poly relationship thing. At this point I'm just rambling,sorry.

I just wanted to see your thought on this cause I have some but I don't know how the others perceive it. Anyways thanks you so much,i love your content 🫶🏻🫶🏻

hellooooo cutie pie nonny :) this has been sitting in my ask box for AGES like since i dropped the last erejean fic i think and i have been so excited to answer it. i'm sorry it took me forever!!! but i am back and ~ ready to chat ~

more poly!erejean headcanons because anon said so

i think it takes them foreverrrrrr to be physically affectionate with each other, and it honestly takes jean awhile to get physical with you too, just bc of the dynamic changing

eren's love language is definitely physical touch, jean's is definitely gift-giving

whenever you or eren texts in your group chat (because of course you have a "y/n's bfs<3" groupchat lol) that you're having the worst day at work, jean's already plotting what store he's running by to pick something up for you as a nice little surprise

maybe it's ingredients for your favorite dinner, your favorite candy, a new pair of fuzzy socks, etc.

eren, on the other hand, just crushes you/jean with the biggest, tightest hug he can manage whenever you're having a bad day. probably offers a massage of some sort.

eren just ...very absentmindedly touches you and jean? like he is always just running a hand over your waist as he passes you in the kitchen, playing with jean's fingers while he scrolls on his phone, kicks his feet up on your lap to watch tv. it feels uncomfortable for him to be in the same room as either of you and not touch you somehow.

jean's favorite thing in the world is to have each of you tucked under his arms cuddling. insists on being in the middle for movie night.

i can't remember if i've mentioned this but eren and jean love sharing clothes. eren's the worst about it- he's literally always snagging jean's stuff and jean, misunderstanding at first, started buying eren a couple of his shirts that he noticed going missing. he got the point when eren never touched his new shirts.

eren 100% nuzzles into jean and you like a dog like noses against your shoulder/neck/tummy

just some little cuddling/physical touch hcs <3 as for jean's mom, i picture her being very traditional, wanting jean to get married and have children. jean has been bi for years in this verse, but very quietly bi, like maybe had a bf in college, told his mom (it took her a minute, but she came around) and his closest friends but keeps it pretty lowkey.

when he told his mom about his relationship with you and eren, the poly dynamic was just completely unlike anything she'd ever heard of and it really caught her by surprise. she wasn't outright unsupportive, but she's very old-fashioned and she just didn't understand how it could function like a legitimate, serious relationship. but when jean just keeps mentioning you both more and more (he knows things like this take her awhile, and she knows her boy is serious by how insistently he keeps bringing it up), she can just hear how happy jean is and wants to see how it works and give it a chance.

she's always adored eren through all the years she's known him, and she's smitten with you the second you shyly cross the threshold into her house, complimenting the decor. she never goes back, just has a few tentative questions for jean here and there, but all that matters to her is that her boy is being made happy by two wonderful people :)

#sorry i literally can never shut up about them #should i write a dinner night drabble #i just love the fluff #anyway #so sorry to literally write an essay #for you nonny!!!! ily<3 thanks for asking :)#poly erejean #poly!erejean #erejean #rage.rambles #three's a universe #three's a uni

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boba-beom · 8 months

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! "couple goals" tag game !

rules: show your top 4 (or 6 if you need more room) self-ships and your couple’s aesthetic because y’all know you’d behave differently in different relationships

tagged by: @robin-obsessed; lee and @writingmochi; lissie <3 thank you <3

I smiles x beomgyu

my number one 🫶🏼 beomgyu loves his grey hoodies and as much as I love the thought about using his hoodies I think he’d love matching grey hoodies ^^ and because I’m a short girly I think photos like this would be so fun to take with him 🤭

our relationship would be goofy as, he’d tease me but always always apologise, but tease me again.

“I think you should stand on here, then you’ll see what I can see.” is what he’d say, with a cheesy grin on his face.

because of how short I am, I just know he’d be the type to rest his arm on the top of my head and just tease me with his cute pouts so I don’t get mad lmao

the rest under the cut

II smiles x taehyun

our sportsman, our gym boy— have you seen taehyun in his basketball jerseys?! he’d teach me how to be good with hand-eye coordination bc I lowkey sucks ass at it lmao,, but I can hear the “aww you’re so short, how’re you supposed to score at least one shot?” and then he’d chuckle and crouch down, patting his shoulders and offering to lift me up that way :’)

“come on then, let’s make your first shot.” and :(( I think he’d be so cute, and do the cute ‘aaaah’ sound when you manage to do a slam dunk from his shoulders 😭 “I’ll give you this jersey as your reward.”

III smiles x heeseung

for some reason, I imagine heeseung taking me on long, chill walks around the city, figuring out where to eat next. that is, until I'd get tired because his one step is equivalent to 2 and 1/2 of mine :') being short can be tiring lmao, so he'd offer to give me a piggy-back on the way to our bus stop

"I think you should invest in ni-ki's growing vitamins." he'd say that with my arms wrapped over his shoulders.

"do you have any last words? I have my arms around your neck, you know?" and he'd threaten to drop me and leave me to walk by myself :') (it's all fun and games)

IV smiles x hoshi

hoshi's character seems so wild and playful, I think that even if we'd be chilling together, watching movies or even just talking about nonsense, he'd grab a pillow — with me thinking he'd just place it on his lap — but would catch me off-guard and launch the pillow in my face T^T I can hear his goofy laugh until I'd return the hit with my pillow.

he started it, but I'm willing to end it. for the meantime, this pillow-fight will continue until a certain someone surrenders or one of us fall off the bed — given that we won't get hurt... too badly.

"you best give up right now." I would say after my attempt at launching my pillow at him, but he shields himself with his own.

"never say never!!"

V smiles x wooyoung

I think wooyoung would even want us to be matching clothes every now and again since his style is very much what I would wear too ngl, but I kinda think that's so cute >//< the same varsity jacket, him wearing denim jeans and I'd wear a pleated skirt and the same shoes in different colours hehe

wooyoung's definitely the type to be physical affectionate, taking mirror selfies would always be with him. he's so touchy and such a flirt, he'd probably ask to have my legs hang off of his since it already hangs off the seat, my legs would most likely be swinging back and forth too lmao

"let's take a picture, put your legs on mine. they don’t touch the floor anyway” and he’d LAUGH 😭🥹 but I love wooyoung :(( he’d be one to do that hug while apologising BUT STILL LAUGHING

“what if I don’t want to?”

“then I guess I’ll just match with someone else.” he’d be serious, I bet he’d match with yeonjun 🤭

VI smiles x sung hanbin

hanbin is literally the sweetest. I see him asking to go for a picnic before sunset, and after we eat the food, he’d lay his head on my lap and I’d have my fingers running thru his hair ☹️🫶🏼

he’d make me laugh sm and even when he laughs his whisker dimples appear.

“why’re you covering your smile?” is what he’d say.

“I don’t really like my smile,” I’d start. “I don’t like how I look when I laugh.”

“I think you look fine. your name is smile after all.”

because hanbin is the most loving person ever. so delicate and considerate about everyone’s feelings 🥹 I think he’d also talk to me about anything. I think my relationship with hanbin would be more on the platonic side ^^ asking me if I’m seeing anyone, talking about his past experiences etc. it’s that typa comfort vibe if I’m with him 🥹

tagging: @junniieesbby @heart2beom @banggyu0308 @fairyofshampgyu @txt-yaomi @moonhoures @mazeinthemoon @baljinciaga @hanniejie and anyone else who would like to do it <3

#!! tag games ¡¡#this is so late #[ 🎐 ] — miss gyu q.#choi beomgyu #kang taehyun #lee heeseung #hoshi #jung wooyoung #sung hanbin

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bittybeanie · 1 year

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spirits and such office dog

the more i think about reigen having an office dog the more i go feral over it. the possibilities are so soft. i mean just think about it.

just the general vibe would be so good like- i always picture the spirits and such office as a place where not a whole lot of work gets done and it's mostly just the crew hanging out and listening to classical music while they pretend to work and adding a very chill dog to that? impeccable vibes

can't decide if a tiny dog or a big dog would be better bc on the one hand a tiny dog curling up in reigen's lap like a cat while he works? kill me now that's so cute!! but also having a big dog sit across people's feet or next to the couch so they can pet the dog while they explain their problems?? the viBES!!

if somebody's allergic or just doesn't like dogs he turns to serizawa like "i have a very important job for you." and serizawa salutes like he's about to take on a battle but then just scoops the dog up and walks into the other room

(the idea is for him to come back but serizawa appreciates the opportunity to listen to the client stories somewhere he can't be Perceived. so he "keeps the dog company" while he listens in from the other room and reigen comes in when the client is done to hear what serizawa thinks)

also the thought of all reigen's neighbors thinking he's just walking a dog normally before realizing he's always in a suit and they don't see him come back for hours and hours and they start wondering where he's going that he needs a dog AND a suit at the same time

taking the dog outside throughout the day gives him an opportunity for smoke breaks where mob can't see him (even after/if he quits, he appreciates the chance for some fresh air and a change of scenery). he leans against the wall with one leg crossed in front of the other with the end of the leash around his wrist and his hand in his pocket while he just lets the dog wander and say hi to people that walk past. (i am. so very gay for the image of this.)

when they go out for field jobs he pats the dog on the head and tells it to "hold down the fort" every. single. time.

i'm not sure if the cafe above their office is like- run by them or if it's a separate business but either way i love the idea of whoever's up in the cafe coming down during breaks to pet the dog.

the dog going absolutely batshit the first time dimple shows up and it takes everybody a minute to figure out what the problem is bc they're so used to seeing him.

the dog eventually gets used to him, which means it also stops barking when there's a Haunted Object around, which reigen figured out was a pretty handy thing. he's gone long enough without it that it's not a big deal, but he still trains it with nonverbal commands to bark when he knows something is haunted bc. the theatrics of it all. the best actor that he doesn't have to pay (except in lots of treats once the client leaves). and it's not like him moving his hands around is all that conspicuous bc i mean have you seen this man? the hardest part is helping the dog figure out when not to bark

i remember reading that one of mob's hobbies is making dogs float?? and just. ever so slightly hovering the dog above the ground and zooming it around. it might freak the first time but after that it's just like how dogs stick their head out the windows of cars and a great time is had by all.

everybody accepts that the dog is mostly reigen's but the others take it home for a night sometimes, and as much as reigen loves the dog he's thankful for the break. probably not mob or ritsu bc of their parents but serizawa takes it bc the dog laying on his chest helps him sleep, and it's not like teru's parents are around to tell him not to when it makes his apartment feel less empty.

just. please give reigen a therapy dog. he deserves it.

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #headcanons #my writing #genuinely not sure how to tag this #so i won't add any characters #definitely inspired by uu-chan #been thinking bout the omake a lot

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sunnyie-eve · 2 years

Text

50 | How long?

Series: Trouble In Hawkins (Steve Harrington x Henderson! Eddie Munson x Henderson!)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: language, grieving

A/N: I personally don't like this part bc I no clue how to end it...

Ch. 49

"Ready to go to Nance's to get the boxes to help out?" Steve walks into my room as I sit on my bed staring at the picture next to my bed. "Yeah. Let's go..." I get up. "If you wanna stay home you can." He stops me. "No, if I stay home I'll just cry more." I let him know. "There's nothing wrong with crying, Sky." He cups my face, "I know he meant a lot to you. Take all the time you need to grieve." He kiss my forehead holding me in his arms. "I just don't wanna be alone." I hold back my tears. "You're not alone, baby." He looks me in the eyes. "I mean being right now, especially today. I need to be with people or..." I hold onto him.

"Okay, let's go." He gives me a kiss and I slowly follow him to his car with Dustin and Robin. "Why is she still out of it?" I hear Robin whisper to Steve. "Eddie was important to her. It's only been two days." He tells her. "Not to mention it's Billy's birthday." Dustin adds and they shut up as I get closer. "Let's go get her stuff." I tell them getting in the car. I didn't understand how people could act like someone didn't just die... I get not everyone was close to him like Dustin and I but it hurt that they didn't show much sympathy.

I know Dustin was still hurting but he tried not to show it. I didn't care for acting like everything was okay anymore. Because nothing was okay, and I wasn't okay. How could somebody think someone could be okay after someone important to them die in this arms. Especially when you know this is the second time for that person. When we get to the Wheeler's I stand alone while Steve and Robin helped out. "I'm happy you're not faking like your fine." Dustin comes over to me. "Why are you? I can see the pain in your eyes. I know it extremely well now." My eye start to get glossy. "I thought maybe if you saw me being strong it would help you. But I also know you two had a special connection too." His eyes start to get glossy too. "I miss him and I can't stop replaying that moment." He starts to cry making me wrap my arms around him to hold him. "I know, Dustin. Me too." I rest my chin on top of his head crying.

Before the others come back, we make ourselves stop crying and act like we weren't crying. "We got everything." Steve gives us a smile. As we go through things Karen asks did someone order a pizza so we turn as we hear a horn. We see Jonathan, Mike, Will, El and someone else get out of the pizza van. Karen runs to Mike, Nancy to Jonathan, Will and Dustin and El and I. "Not your hair again." I pull her back touching her head. "I got my powers back though. What happened to your shoulder?" She looks at my arm wrapped up. "I fell on it." I hug her again before hugging Will. "Happy late birthday." I squeeze him. "You're the only one who ever say it." He hugs me tighter.

"Where's Lucas?" Will asks Dustin and I. "He's at the hospital." Dustin tells him. "Was he hurt?" El asks. "No. No, he's... Oh god. You don't know." Dustin tells them and El looked worried. "Max... she's in a coma." I tell them. We catch them slightly up on everything we did and what happened. "Skylar." Mike stops me as we all split up again. "Huh?" I turn to him. "I'm sorry. I know you were a lot closer to Eddie than I was. It's terrible." He gives me a sad look making me cry so he gives me a hug. "Remember when Billy died? How our bodies were?" I step back from the hug. "Yeah, he died in your lap." He nods his head then sees the look on my face. "Again? Skylar..." He sighs. "Dustin was right there too. And Max was in Lucas's arms." I let him know but he didn't know what to say.

"Ready to go?" Steve walks over snaking his arm around my waist. "Yeah, Mike was just telling sorry about Eddie." I look up at him. "You were all friends with him. I know it's sad." Steve tells Mike as he kisses the side of my head. "Wait, are you two back together?" Mike eyes us making Steve laugh then stop since I wasn't laughing. "Are we or am just assuming and you're just not telling me because you're in a bad place and don't want to hurt my feelings?" He asks making me laugh some. "I thought it was obvious I forgave you when I kissed you in the upside." I give him a kiss. "Okay... good." He nods his head. "Mike, let's go!" Nancy shouts for him.

When we get to the high school the three carry the boxes since I couldn't. "Dustin you really should walk slower with that limp." I tell him as he tries to keep the pace with Robin walking fast. "I'm okay." He limps more. "No, you're not." I tell him. Inside the gym we see everyone who needed help and signs for missing people. I stop following the three as I see one of Eddie but assholes wrote all over it. I walk over and stare at what the did to it. I feel myself wanting to cry again but I hold it in till I realize his uncle had to be the one to put it up in the first place. He didn't know and I haven't even thought about him. I rip it off before going back to the others. When I join them Robin was asking what else they could do to help so we end up volunteering.

Steve and I get paired to help fold and sort clothes, which I thought was funny for me with one of my arms wrapped. The woman gives us the run down before we get to work. "Are you even okay to be doing this?" Steve as as we start. "I can kinda move it but still can't lift it up. I should be fine." I give him a smile. "I saw you stop at the missing person board." He eyes me. "I saw Eddie's and assholes drew on it so I took it down." I tell him then see Robin and Vicki talking. "Look at her." I tell Steve and he starts to smile at them. "Finally." He laughs. As we work I look around and see Dustin with Eddie's uncle so I stop what I was doing. "What?" Steve asks me then sees what I was looking at. "Excuse me. I'll be back." I leave my spot going over to them. The closer I got I could hear them crying.

"Uncle Wayne..." I walk up making him look at me as I had tears running down my face. He stands up wrapping his arms around me crying harder. I give him a big hug not caring about my shoulder. As we sit down next to Dustin, he tells Wayne I was also there with him when Eddie died. "Wayne, this is my brother Dustin by the way." I wipe my tears away. "They were really close. Eddie was like a big brother to him." I add. "I can see it." He lets out a chuckle. I spend a few moments with them before going back to work but we all stop and everyone either goes outside or to the window to see the dust coming down from the sky. "It's only the beginning." I look out the window. "The second thing I saw after the four gates opening." I look back at Steve.

After hours of helping out we were finished and got a radio from the others saying meet at Hopper's cabin. When we get there I see Joyce running to give her a hug. "It's so good to see you." She tells me. "It's good to see you again too." I smile. "What about me? I heard you cried when I died." I hear Hopper and I see him standing there laughing. "Really no hug? I thought I meant something to you?" He chuckles walking over to me as I stand there not believing my eyes. He pulls me into a hug and that's when I break down crying into him. "I never realized how much though." He kisses the top of my head. "She's not doing too well. Two days ago she lost someone else important to her." Nancy tells him making me only cry more. "I'm sorry but I'm back now. You have me again..."

"Why did we come?" Dustin asks Mike. "Will said something about about Vecna. He still feels him." He tell us. "He's n-," I cut Will off, "Not dead. Just weak and will be back when he's better. I know." I tell them. "How do you now!" Will asks me. "He told me and like you I can feel him." I look at him. "Wait, we know why Will can because of the mind Flayer in the past... How can you?" Mike asks confused. "He said part of him has been in my mind for months. He's been watching me since Billy. Unlike how he takes the suffering from others killing them... He takes from me without me knowing. Said I'm gonna be the one to make him better to kill El." I look at the ground then at them. "Skylar..." They all stare at me.

"It's gonna be my fault when he comes back..." I choke up. "It's not gonna be your fault." El tells me. "Yes, because of how much I suffer. He knows from the pain of loving Billy and Steve at the same time. The pain of being part of the reason Barb is dead. Showing me Eddie dying before I even knew it was him. Max with bloody eyes before it ever happened too." I explain to them. "I'm broken and that's what he wants and knows I will never feel better deep down." I explain them walk off from everyone to go cry alone. I end out in the field looking at the smoke risings from the ground in the distance. "I'm not leaving your side." Dustin joins me. "I'm scared. How long is it going to take?" I ask looking over at him. "I know you said you'll never feel better but you have to try to heal. Prove him wrong. Steve and I are here to help you."

Back home Steve was staying with us again and mom was out helping her friends. "Do you need help?" Steve asks walking into the kitchen as I cook. "Cooking, no. Other things, yes." I chuckle. "Want me to set up the table?" He asks. "You know what, yes. Because you need to practice for your six little nuggets and future wife." I make him start to smile. "You know, I thanked Nancy for giving me a big thump on the head two years ago because I needed it. I told her it changed my life. If she hadn't... we wouldn't be like this." He walks up beside me. "That dream... it's all true. Every last word. I know it's crazy but I had that dream with you when we were just friends. Because even when I wouldn't admit it... deep down my heart knew." He holds me by my hips. "And I still mean what I said when I said it sounds nice." I smile up at him. "As long as I'm there." He smiles leaning down giving me a kiss.

"You know, Eddie said he can picture us with six little nuggets. He said I'd be an awesome mom..." I smile then start to tear up. "And he'd be the awesome rocker uncle while Dustin's the geek." My tears fall and Steve wipes them away. "Well he was right. About you being awesome mom and about what type of uncle he would be. And if or when we do start that dream... those little nuggets are gonna know about their Uncle Eddie. Because I'm gonna say he was their mama's hero and Uncle Dustin's too." He gives me a kiss as the oven goes off. "You haven't set the table yet so you fail." I giggle making him quickly set the table. "Just making sure... you aren't starting that dream anytime soon right? You're too young to be a mom. You haven't even graduated yet." Dustin gives us a look then narrows his eyes at Steve, "Keep using protection or else." I laugh while Steve yells at him.

#stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things 2 #stranger things 3 #dustin henderson #el #max mayfield #steve harrington x henderson #robin buckley #mike wheeler #lucas sinclair #will byers #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x henderson

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haruhey · 3 years

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Word count: 13k (i am SO SORRY i got carried away and this fic turned out SO FILTHY but i hit 300 followers so consider this a gift??)

Established Relationship Fluff | Smut

There’s only one bed shower, and Daryl Dixon is an opportunist.

the request:

every single fic of yours is seriously amazing. ur a great writer!! can i request a daryl shower smut bc wooweeeee

There’s always a giddiness inside Daryl when he returns from runs. No more sleeping in the RV for nights on end, no more eating cold canned chicken soup and - as much as he liked Aaron - no more hearing him talk about how much he missed Eric and making him miss you, too. He’s exhausted, his muscles sore from overuse, but the fact that you’re probably curled up in bed makes him so damn excited that all the ailments of his aging body are swiftly forgotten with each step he takes.

Houses fly by in a blur as he ramps up into a jog, his feet taking him to the dim light of a moving lantern in your shared bedroom window. By Daryl’s estimate, it couldn’t have been more than 10 or 11pm, but time meant little in the apocalypse - it was either dark out, or light and with the days getting shorter, he noticed you using the lantern more and more frequently. Just a few days ago, you had fallen asleep curled up on his chest, the soft orange light filling the room before he strained his body trying to turn it off without waking you. The next morning he had a terrible cramp running from his rib up to his bicep, but he never complained. Not even a wince in your presence since he thought the soreness was worth it. He would rather die several times over than lose the image he saw - of your pillowy lips taking soft, steady breaths of air while you slept against his bare skin.

Smiling, he lets himself remember the way you looked when he first gifted it to you, a grin that spread to the apples of your cheeks and crinkled at your eyes plastered on your face. It wasn’t a perfect replica, but it looked close enough to the one you would both light on nightwatches in the prison - which he thinks was when he first realized he loved you. Daryl also remembers the first night he saw you use it, the memory so vivid in his mind that he felt like if he reached out, the soft fabric of your pajamas would welcome his touch.

He could picture it now, your back against the headboard, reading one of the books that littered the shelves he never touches. Your face bathed in the lantern’s hue while your eyes scanned the pages and drinking in every word of whatever you were holding. He plucked that book right out of your hands that night and pulled you onto his lap, kissing the pout off your face until you weren’t annoyed at him anymore, rendered down to just laughing against his lips.

Fuck, he couldn’t wait to get home and see you again.

Daryl curses under his breath as he fumbles a little with the doorknob, but the profanities are quickly replaced with a huff of accomplishment as he practically sprints to the bedroom, boots shucked off haphazardly at the front door. He skips every other stair with long strides, desperate to feel you in his arms. When he enters the bedroom, he places his crossbow on the dresser and is surprised to see the room as dark as it is, the only source of illumination being the moon as it streams through the windows. The bed is empty and the blankets are strewn to your side, but neither you nor your pajamas are anywhere in sight. Panic flies through him before he registers the unmistakable sounds of the shower running, and he scoffs at himself when he sees the dim orange light peeking from beneath the bathroom door.

Had you known how worried he was for a second, you would have laughed at him. He was already so protective of you before the two of you got together, but it was another level entirely when you both made it official. It wasn’t just losing you to the dead anymore - it was also losing you to other people. Daryl knew you could take care of yourself, he had seen you hold your own on runs in the prison and trips outside the Alexandrian gates, but, God, if anything happened to you he wouldn’t know what to do. Being apart from you once when the Governor attacked was already almost too much for him to handle, but the thought of losing you and having to be okay with the fact you were never going to love him again? That was something he never wanted to experience.

Leaning against the wall, he pulls off his belt and places it next to his crossbow, his vest following not long after. The mattress squeaks slightly when he makes his way over to it and lies down, his body feeling almost instant comfort at the feeling of something other than the hard leather of his bike’s seat. Days like this made him think that maybe you were right in jokingly telling him that his motorcycle was a dumb choice for long runs - his tailbone was probably shaped like a rectangle from how long he’d been sitting on his ass.

A few moments pass as he allows himself to indulge in some rest, eyes closing and already in the first stages of a slumber before he shoots up, pushing himself to the edge of the mattress and sitting straight. Fuck, he needed to shower. He had given you his word that he would. Each time before he fell asleep after a run, he’d said; and Daryl Dixon was not one to break promises. Especially not to you.

Getting off the bed, he sheds his shirt and throws the old fabric onto the dresser, grimacing at the knowledge he would have to scrub at the dried walker blood come morning. His socks are next, pulled off by impatient hands and left on the floor, not even given a second glance as he then pulls open a drawer and grabs a pair of boxers from his meager pile. The only thought in his mind being the feeling of smooth sheets and your body against his skin. He’d pick up his clothes after his shower - if he could even muster up enough energy to.

Step by step, he makes it a good few feet out of the bedroom before he realizes the other second floor bathroom doesn’t work. If his memory served him correct, there were some plumbing issues and, before anyone could buy replacements, the world became, well, what it is now. After all, it was the only reason you and Daryl even took this house - nobody else wanted to have only one shower and, after becoming a couple, sharing one between two people didn’t seem all that bad. At least, that’s what he thought until now. Groaning, he rubs his eyes in an attempt to rub out the fatigue in them before his whole body lights up with an idea. Maybe he could have some fun with this. And if you asked, he could always blame the missing pipe or whatever it was that the Alexandrians couldn’t fix.

Practically thrilled, he mentally pats himself on the back and rushes back to the bedroom. Tired? Not anymore. Daryl can’t be if he wants to fulfill what just popped into his mind. Years of hunting leave his footsteps nearly silent when he enters the bathroom, but he’s not exactly at a disadvantage in terms of noise. The rhythmic beating of water against the tiled floor drowns out the slight squeak of the door as well as the hitching of his breath when he notices the gap. With how the room was designed, just standing at the door led his gaze in a nearly direct line of sight to you, the shower curtain lying an inch or two from the wall and offering him a vision which he doesn’t hesitate to indulge in.

It’s not like he's never seen your body - far from it, actually - but there was something about you that made him hesitate when it came to stuff like this. You deserved sweet and soft, affectionate with declarations of love between his kisses, and while he enjoyed giving that to you, sometimes he wanted something different. Sometimes Daryl wanted to act on impulse - to feel a different type of desperation - and tonight, he wanted to act out one of his long-hidden fantasies. One that involved you on many, many occasions.

Truthfully, he couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it since Merle and his buddies showed him that damn VHS as a hormonal high schooler. He never really had a committed girlfriend or anything like that to ever even pluck up the courage to ask, but that fantasy remained like a phantom in the back of his mind, lying just outside his finger’s reach. One that haunts him late at night and renders him withering in his own palm. At least, that was the case. Because he has you now and how he managed that? He didn't know. But he felt confident enough around you and trusted you enough to pursue the desire in him.

A shiver courses through him, running along the tip of his spine when he considers the possibility you might like it as much as him - and if you did, maybe he would divulge to you more of these secrets he’s always kept hidden so well.

With silent movements, Daryl unbuttons and unzips his jeans as he leans against the door of the bathroom, just barely suppressing a groan when his fingers graze the zipper. He curses himself, chastising his sensitivity at the mere image of you doing something as mundane as taking a shower, but he knew it was an inevitable consequence. Ever since the prison, anything you did got him riled up - even just seeing you sitting on his motorcycle made his skin light up with goosebumps. Left in only his boxers, he steps out of the denim pooling at his feet and picks it up, throwing it haphazardly onto the cream coloured counter as he waits for you to take notice of his presence. The metal button clashes against the smooth marble of the vanity, and its noises sound across the room, your eyes opening and your fingers catching the edge of the plastic curtain as you dart your head out, searching for the source.

Your body tenses up, no doubt the experience of living out on the road for so long, but the fighting instinct drains from you the moment you see the affectionate boyish grin playing on Daryl’s lips. It’s barely visible as he stands so far from the meager light source, but it sends an eager smile onto your face. Like all those times he’s returned to you, you want to run to him, feel his arms wrap around you and inhale his scent as you plant those incessant kisses he ‘hated’ everywhere on his face, but that urge only serves to remind you that you’re standing naked in a shower and he’s just staring at you.

“Daryl! What the- I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

Embarrassed, you speak, voice pitched higher than normal from the shock and excitement coursing through your body. However, he stays put, leaning against the door as he drags his eyes up the expanses of skin afforded to him; that is, until you pull the plastic curtain to cover yourself and run your free hand through your hair, tilting your head ever so slightly in order to urge his eyes to meet yours. You wait for his response as you brush the wet strands back from your face, but it never comes, him instead choosing to stride towards you and send you a pout before pulling petulantly at the shower curtain, trying to coax you to let go of it. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, your grip loosens and he can barely hold back his excitement when you really do let go, tongue peeking out for just a second before he hooks his lip between his teeth.

Throughout your relationship with Daryl, you learned he loved looking at you, gawking at and admiring each angle, birthmark and curve until you felt heat flush through your body. Even before the two of you got together, his gaze stuck on you, longing and soft when you weren’t looking, only hardening if your eyes ever met his. Each time he saw you it was like he was still in disbelief that you were his, forever suspended in the wide look he had when you first confessed to him, hence why you didn’t pay much attention to his stare as you moved to pump out some shampoo. You didn’t really know why he was in the bathroom and he made no effort to tell you, but you were here to clean yourself. So that’s what you’ll do. He’ll probably leave sooner or later after making sure you weren’t hurt anywhere, anyways.

The way the light from the lantern bounced off your glistening skin made you look like some sort of goddess. Like an otherworldly being he shouldn’t be looking at. Or like a succubus, sinfully tantalizing, except you didn’t know what you were doing to him as you raked your hands through your hair again, bubbles forming already between your fingers as you scrubbed. Shit, this was way better than he expected, and he’s gladly taking in everything it was offering. Shifting his weight, he clenches and unclenches his fists - commanding himself to keep them at his sides - but then you turn around, allowing the water to rush down your back and his resolve withers away as he tries not to envy the path along which it’s falling.

Soon, the little space between the shower curtain and the ceramic tiling isn’t enough for him. He needs to feel you against him, his trembling hands and suffocating boxers egging him on like this was the first time he’s ever seen you naked. Clearing his throat, he urges himself to move, building his confidence which had seemed to dissipate nearly immediately as you locked eyes with him. What he wanted to do wasn’t sweet or affectionate, and even though he knew you would tell him if you didn’t like it, he just didn’t really want to risk even doing something you didn’t like in the first place.

“Sorry I, uh, I’ll go rinse out my hair somewhere else. Here, I’ll get out so you can-”

This was it. He had to act now or he’ll lose the opportunity. Running his thumb across his bottom lip, he watches as your hand reaches for the shower valve, but your movements and voice stop when Daryl shoots his dominant hand out, the calloused skin wrapping around your wrist in a warmth that makes you snap your gaze to his. While firm, he never applies enough force to hurt you - he knows what kind of men there were in this world, and he didn’t know what he would do if you ever thought of him like that. On the contrary, the feeling of his fingers around you is welcome, especially after what felt like years away from him. Giving him that same inquisitive look, except this time laced with a small smile, you can tell by the way he’s gnawing at his lip that he has something to say. Something that has him hesitating in a way you’ve never really seen him hesitate before, well, besides the first time you both kissed.

“Actually, mind if I join ya? ‘Cause ya see, the other shower don’t work and there’s this girl - my girl - she’s amazin’, but she doesn’t let me into our bed ‘til I shower and I’m damn tired.”

Oh.

Noticing the way you tense up slightly at his suggestion, he offers more, another reason to sway you into accepting as if the pursuit of his little fantasy would both begin and end with what drops from his lips. This definitely felt more daunting, like a much larger leap than him asking for permission to kiss you.

“I also heard showerin’ in pairs saves water.”

Oh.

Yeah, you get why he was hesitating now.

Honestly, Daryl really couldn’t give a fuck about the water he was talking about. What he had in his running mind had little to do with his environmental footprint and more to do with feeling your skin on his and the image of you coming undone for him. He hasn’t been home - been with you - in what felt like weeks, and he thought the generator could stand to work a little harder after running for one person for a few days. With a slight upwards twitch of his eyebrow, you can feel what little apprehension you had leave your body and his heart pounds in his ribcage with the anxiety of what’s to come. At least, he thinks that’s why its beating at 100 miles per hour.

It surely can’t be the residual hormonal anticipation or excitement from his youth.

“And who exactly did you hear that from?”

The slight joking edge to your voice causes him to smile, but it’s a mischievous one, one that holds promises and sends a shiver through your body. Daryl really had no clue what he did to you when he looked at you like that, his piercing blue gaze hitting you as his head tilts down almost sheepishly to the grip he has on you.

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a glint residing in them that draws you to look at nothing but him as he runs his thumb along the bone of your wrist. With a tilt of his head, he speaks, muttered as he gnaws once more at his lips and lets go of his hold.

“It matter?”

So nobody, probably.

The amusing thought sends you shaking your head ‘no’ as you smile, pulling open the plastic curtain in invitation while trying to suppress the idea that just popped into your head. Daryl just wants to shower and the only reason he wants to shower with you is to fulfill that promise he had made. Because he just wants to go to sleep. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, he’s hopeful that you would be watching him - and he’s fully prepared to make a show of stripping his last piece of fabric - but he’s sorely disappointed when he sees your eyes closed in an attempt to keep the bubbling shampoo from burning at them.

Why weren’t you looking at him? Was he not overt enough?

Wow, he really wasn’t very good with… whatever it is he’s trying to do, huh?

You shuffle forward from the steady stream and he takes that as his cue to step in, gladly placing his body just a few inches from yours and sighing in relief when the water hits his sore muscles. The sounds don’t go unnoticed by you, and your heart sinks a little with each suppressed groan of pain Daryl lets out. He always worked so hard for Alexandria, and they still treated him like somewhat of an outsider, questioning his true intentions with harsh looks when he even so much as walked too close to them. But they didn’t seem to mind him much when they were eating the animals he hunted, though, and that sent your blood boiling.

Turning around, you try not to let your gaze drop too low as you place your hands on his shoulders, frowning when you feel the stiff knots that have burrowed their way underneath his skin. Almost immediately, Daryl submits to your touch, an all too familiar warmth bubbling in his heart as he, too, turns and exposes his scar ridden skin to you, allowing your thumbs to rub circles into his upper back. He always loved this - the domesticity of these moments, the wordless communications, your love and affection directed solely at him - and he’s starting to forget the real reason he crashed your shower in the first place, lulled into relaxation under your nimble fingers and the water beating down on his overworked muscles.

“Does that feel better?”

Your question warrants a response landing somewhere between a grunt and a groan, but then you laugh and he swears his heart swells tenfold. He missed hearing that. Even if you got embarrassed of it sometimes, or hid it muffled behind the palms of your hands, he loved hearing it. Because you glowed when you did, your eyes crinkling up at the corners with a smile that almost always brought him to his knees, and perhaps almost selfishly, the knowledge that he doesn’t want to be away from you any longer dawns on him - as well as the knowledge that it’s inevitable that he has to leave again soon. Whether it be with Aaron or Rick, or some of the poor bastards that piss their pants whenever they see him.

When you stop your ministrations, he feels himself frowning as you tap him once with your thumbs, but he elates almost immediately when you speak promise of a better massage come morning. He’s slightly ashamed of the way his whole body lights up in goosebumps in anticipation, but it’s not unwarranted. Spending late mornings with you was something Daryl never knew how the hell he had lived so long without, and they were his favourite types of mornings by a long shot. Especially when it ended up more often than not with you on him or him on you, the both of you thankful for the misfit house you had all to yourselves and away from prying eyes and eavesdropping ears.

“You’re too damn good to me.”

But he deserves it, you think to yourself, He deserved to be cared for like this.

His praise drips with a softness he didn’t even know he was capable of until you came along and Daryl turns back around to face you, smirking lopsided when he sees a shy smile worm its way onto your face. He had to have known what he was doing when he said stuff like that - especially when he used a voice like that. Seriously, how long had the two of you been together? It felt like an eternity already, but he could still make you flustered from a simple compliment. Shaking your head, you rest your wrists at the nape of his neck and use the leverage to pull his lips to yours, thumb swiping at the blood dried at his cheek and hoping the distraction of your tongue on his will keep him from teasing the warmth crawling up your neck.

A ‘hm?’ noise falls from him, small and surprised as his eyebrows raise for just a moment before his hands loop around your waist by instinct. When you pull away, another noise falls from Daryl, but this time it’s more disappointed than anything, and he chases your lips with his bottom one jutted out, taking full advantage of the strong arms he has wrapped around you. Holding you in place, his eyes plead with the now perfected ‘one more’ look you’re all too familiar with and you can’t bring yourself to deny him - he knows you can’t. Closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he waits patiently, he hums when you finally kiss him again, his satisfaction vibrating down to the hollow center of your collarbones before begrudgingly letting you go when you pull away again.

The water runs a brownish red from the dried walker blood being washed off his body and he scrubs furiously at his arms, trying to gauge the right move that will get your thighs shaking and your moans bouncing off the ceramic tiles he’s seen less than he’s willing to admit. Should he just… go for it? Just pull you against him and push you up against the walls he wants your noises to echo off of? No, he should come up with a better idea. You deserved a better idea.

Running his thumb along his jaw, Daryl sneaks furtive glances at your body - who the hell he was hiding them from, he didn’t know - and picks even more skin off his chapped lips as he watches you twist at your waist ever so slightly to comb through your hair. Swallowing down his spit like some teenager, he watches your shoulder blades protrude and disappear, intently following the droplets of water as they fall along your neck and down the muscles you’ve developed. He had to hand it to the sorry rich prick who had designed this house because, all things considered, they did a pretty good job; there was just enough spread of it between the two of you to pass as a decent shower. Even if you or him had to oddly angle yourselves to warm a cool patch of skin.

Reaching towards the shampoo bottle, his arm brushes against your waist almost feather-light, but it sends a shiver through you, rattling your ribs and making your cheeks flush all the same. Daryl lingers for a moment longer than you expect, his body leaning as he stretches over and you think he’s going to step forward - wrap you up in him - but dutifully, respectfully, anxiously he stays put. You want his touch, especially after nights alone with only the scent of him on his side of the bed to keep you company, and, having caught a quick glance at his straining boxers before he joined, there’s little room for doubt in your mind that he wants you. But still, it exists.

Your own arms begin to sore when he finally pulls away, his hands now raking through the hair he seemingly never wants to cut. Clearing your throat, you turn around, eyes screwed shut as you face Daryl, fearing for both the shampoo you’re washing out stinging at your eyes and the fact that if you looked at him, your gaze would probably drop. God, was all it took just a few days without him to have you craving him like this? The close proximity coupled with the knowledge he’s standing next to you naked makes you tense up before a shiver runs up your spine, your thoughts causing your breath to hitch for barely a second. Despite your efforts to suppress it, your subconscious prays that he picks up on the little noise. Please let him pick up on it.

And he does, ever observant as he connects the dots, the initially surprised look on his face melting into a small anticipatory smirk before he all but races to lather his hair in the coconut - or was it grapefruit? - scent. This was good. This was damn good.

He dares take a step forward, tentative, testing out the waters as if he was unsure of your desire, but he knows he can read you, and that he can do it well. This was when he should do something, right? The subtle confirmations - a tense, a shiver, a hitching breath - beg him to. Under the streaming shower, Daryl impatiently scrubs at his scalp, teeth hooked permanently atop his lip as he watches the rivulets of watered-down shampoo catch along your skin, his fingers and mouth itching to replicate its path down your neck to your chest. He knows that path well, and perhaps that’s what makes him even more envious.

Thank God for the fact you’ve closed your eyes because if anybody saw Daryl right now, they would take a step back, maybe even several thinking he was angry. How could they not when he was glaring at you as if you had done something horrible? It’s a surprise to him, the fact that it seemed like you really could not feel the burn of his stare, but then a thought pops into his lust-fogged brain. Maybe you did know. And maybe you were toying with him, playing coy and pushing him to a teetering edge, letting him taste the tension on his tongue until he could hold back no more.

To say he’s impatient is an understatement. He isn’t simply impatient, no, he’s impatient. He wants to do something. He wants you to do something, to initiate the flurry of hands and lips he’s craving so desperately and, seemingly blind to that triad of signals, he scrubs frantic at his hair in an attempt to control himself. As he rinses out the shampoo, he manages to cling onto what little restraint he had over his body until you turn back around. It was like the universe was egging him on, trying to break his resolve by showing him those dimples on your lower back, reminding him of the way he gripped them when he took you that night before he left - and it works. Jesus fucking Christ does it work.

Daryl’s body crowds you then, muscular arms wrapped around either side of your waist and rough hands palming at your chest before sliding down to your stomach, pulling you flush into him while he grinds his hips experimentally against your body. The feeling catches you off-guard, eyes widening in surprise as you let out a gasp into the steam of hot water and you grip harshly at his forearm, attempting to steady yourself from the sensations blossoming from your thighs. He can feel them tense and begin to snap closed against him, but you hear the corners of his mouth twitch upwards with satisfaction.

“What- what are you doing?”

Restless, his fingers travel downwards, hooking a strong thigh between your two legs as he ignores your question, them parting immediately to accommodate him. Daryl’s veins thrum with adrenaline, feeling the all too familiar effects of your warm skin when he realizes you’re letting him do this - enjoying him, even - your hands pawing at his to beg him to speed up, to bring you that nirvana he loves to be the reason for. Heat flushes your body, knowing full well what he’s capable of, but despite it, your skin erupts into goosebumps under his touch, desperate for more.

“What’s it look like ‘m doin’?”

Your neck comes under his affection next, his lips meeting it as he mumbles the words against your pulse point, tongue darting out when he feels it speed up. Almost methodically, Daryl finds the marks he’d left days prior, darkening them with unadulterated determination and rolling his hips against you once more. The heavy motion draws a whine from you, short and needy as your nails dig into his wrist and he all but basks in it. God, this felt good. How the hell had he spent so long without you? Without your skin under his? Everything about you feels like a fucking drug to him.

“D-Daryl- what would your girl say.”

He smiles against your neck, a warm pride bubbling in his chest when he hears the slight shake in your voice. It always got like this when he was touching you, and he liked to think it was the anticipation raking through your body. All the possibilities he could bring to you. He loved listening to your voice as it was, but hearing it quaver as it bounced off the ceramic walls, mingled perfectly with the rhythmic thrum of water crashing against the two of you? It was almost alarming how quickly it made his head spin.

Submitting to your urging, he lets you slide his hands down to the apex of your thighs, groaning guttural into your ear when he feels your hips lift and rut into his touch, unintentionally grinding your ass onto his cock when you push yourself back onto him. Hooking his chin over your shoulder, you hear his breaths as he digs his palm an inch below your pelvis, thick fingers gripping harsh at your inner thighs as he nudges his further between them. It feels like fucking magic, whatever he’s doing, and a plea tingles at your lips before you bite it down. Daryl’s never been this bold, and this is new territory for the two of you. Very new. So you were going to let him take his time - let him explore every inch of your skin as if he didn’t already have it memorized - despite the fact every cell in your body screams for you to sink down on him right here and now.

His grip disappears too quickly for your taste, but before you can even register the decadent sear that marks his blunt fingernails and calluses, his palm makes home just below your stomach and he swipes two fingers against you, spreading you for him but avoiding that bundle of nerves you want so desperately for him to touch. An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips as he gathers evidence of your arousal, and the sound of him makes you claw at his wrist, your hands still blanketing his as you try to angle him to do something other than coat his fingers and smear you across your inner thighs. Amused, his middle finger curls, breaching you just until his first joint before pulling away, relishing in the way you clench as if trying to keep him in you.

“Hm, I dunno. What do ya think she’d say? I think she likes it.”

You can hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face as he feels your body react and you can practically see it behind your closed eyelids. Daryl knows all your buttons, every single movement that renders you down to a puddle of mush, but he’s avoiding them. His jaw clenches and unclenches as you buck your hips up to try and meet the talented fingers only getting further and further and further from you. Skin warm from the streaming water and the sheer amount of lust coursing through him, his left arm snakes upward, resting just under your breasts before pulling your shoulders flush against him. His teeth sneak out from behind his lips, grazing against that spot that made your thighs shake the first time you slept with him, and you become putty in his hands.

A gasp of Daryl’s name falls before a staggered whimper erupts from your throat, his hands moving so fast and sure along your body as if he had molded you to his perfection. Everything hits you at the same time, his sharp canines right below your jaw bone before they melt into the caress of slightly chapped lips, the hand at your chest palming and tweaking and toying like there was no tomorrow, his fingers swirling, nudging at that tiny bundle of nerves you’ve been silently begging him to touch just once, and you can’t stop the noises falling from your lips. No matter how much you try, they escape.

“Or d’ya think she’s too busy moanin’ for me to tell me?”

Oh, that fucking prick.

To make it worse, you can’t even bring yourself to be angry for that long because his voice drops into that low, husky whisper that makes your knees go weak. Had Daryl not essentially smothered you against his body, you just know you would be a puddle, pliable and aching after just a few days away from him. A jolt of pleasure rockets through you the moment you realize what he wants - to make you as desperate as he is for this - and you know he knows exactly how to get it. Biting your lip, you trap your sounds in your throat just to spite him and you dig your fingers into his forearm, seeking in any way to find another outlet for all the compounding stimulation he just keeps giving you.

Your heartbeat drums through your ears and you can barely register the growl against your skin, but the vibration of it is inescapable. He feels the crescent shapes already forming from your nails on his tan skin and he pulls his face from you, breath fanning your ear in preparation to express how disappointed he is at you robbing him of your noises, but you beat him to it, freeing the words that burn at your tongue to knock him off his high-horse. Daryl was never a very confident man, but fuck if it does not make your skin tingle.

“I think she’d tell you to- to shut up.”

The rebuke is futile, a stutter brought on by the push and pull of his deft fingers and he laughs. Daryl chuckles into your skin before everything from him detaches, only for him to grab at your waist and spin you around to face him, adjusting his hold to crowd you once more. Your back hits the ceramic tiles, a sharp whine escaping you at the contrasting cold, and you can see that smirk you had envisioned on his face when you open your eyes, taking in every inch of the swept back hair now falling into his face as he tilts his forehead slowly to yours. Running your non-dominant hand up from his arm to his face, you push the strands back, smiling slightly at the way he melts as his eyelids flutter shut for just a second. As much as he said he hated how damn soft you made him, he sought after your touch, your hands much too intoxicating for him to deny them.

You glow a ring of delicate orange from the lantern shining behind him, the light bouncing off your glistening skin and those sparkling damn eyes that shine with unguarded affection despite your ‘annoyance’ from just moments ago. Creating shadows over your body with his broad figure as he blankets you, Daryl nearly groans with delight at the image - the realization that you look impossibly better with the warm hue making his head spin. And when he remembers that you’re his to love? He tries to hide just how much it makes his mind run, but his voice comes spilling out without much thought, everything about you shrinking the filter between his brain and mouth that he so tenaciously keeps on during the day.

“That so? ‘Cause if I do then I can’t tell ‘er how much I missed her. Or what I was thinkin’ when I thought about ‘er at night.”

Daryl was already so worked up at the thought of doing this to you, you didn’t even need to actually do anything to him to have him throbbing against your stomach, begging to be touched after days of only imagined scenarios to keep him company. So you indulge him, tracing your dominant hand down the V-line of his pelvis and biting your tongue when his hips snap into your grasp, his grip at your waist tightening as he tries to still himself. He wants you to touch him, to let you give him what you want to give him and he tries his damndest to control himself, instead using his words to try and rile you up.

“Nothin’ I do feels as good as her. Nothin’ I’ve tried’s ever been close.”

Your whole body shivers at the insinuation, the ceramic sandwiching you to Daryl ceasing to feel as cold as it did when he first pushed you against it. He feels like centuries have passed when your hand finally wraps around him, running your fingers in a stroke that has him groaning and nearly keeling over you with how much that simple damn action makes heat pool in the pit of his stomach. Everything about this feels heightened, the steam of the shower failing in comparison to the heat pinging between the two of you. His eyes seek yours, cock twitching and catapulting him much farther to his climax than he would like to admit when he sees you watching your grasp, lips parted ever so slightly, pleading with him to lay his on them.

Heart thrumming in his chest, another groan of an expletive followed by your name drops from Daryl before his hips jerk forward, stuttering into your grip with no real rhythm as he pushes a rough kiss onto your mouth. When you let out a little surprised squeal, he pulls himself back immediately, as if shocked by his own lack of self-control, but your hand never stops, and your face leans closer towards his, the feeling of his ruined sounds vibrating along your tongue making you chase him. This must have been how he felt when he had you whimpering for him on those late nights and early mornings. No wonder you both loved them so much.

Twisting your other hand from the side of his neck to his nape, you pull him to you with equal fervor, the stroking of his cock forgotten in favour of his chapped lips turning into something more sinful with each movement of his talented mouth. His fingers begin to wander now, eagerly grasping at the two dimples at your lower back before his palms find all too familiar territory kneading and massaging your ass. Knees nearly buckling, you remember the leaking heaviness twitching in your grip and you nudge him between your thighs, your legs spreading just a bit wider as you inch him closer and closer and closer to where you need it most.

“N-no, wait- I gotta-“

His hands shoot downwards to still yours and he pulls his hips from you, his statement stuttered through a sharp, shaky breath. Whining, you nearly beg for him before you realize he succeeded in what he set out to do - and he was only gone four days, your subconscious chastises. Your head is swimming in desperation for him as you shake it, hair whipping into your face and onto the wall while you vehemently disagree with both his words and your own internal mocking. All coherent thoughts leave your mind, washed away in the stream of water running down your body and you come to the conclusion that you don’t fucking care if he would poke fun at you come morning, you need to feel him.

“Daryl you don’t need to- you can just- I can-“

You don’t need to keep-

You can just-

I can-

God, you sounded pathetic, your voice barely breaking above breathy through the heavy beating of water, and he loves it, it’s enticing him; he could die right now and he would feel nothing but satisfaction. Daryl was never a very confident man - well, with people at least - but around you, he felt wanted. Not just in moments like this when you craved him so debaucherously, but in moments when you would pull close to him while you were sleeping or hug him from the back. Just giving him your affection so freely and not expecting any back. It made his heart damn near break everytime he had to leave. Adjusting his grip on you, he digs his knee into the wall, perching you on either side of him and leaning closer and closer to your burning skin.

“Gotta get ya ready. Jus’- jus’ be a good girl an’ be patient. Don’t want ya limpin’ tomorrow ”

Despite his words, Daryl can’t help but think that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. It wouldn’t be so bad to linger beside you the whole day, a constant reminder of the real reason you needed him to get you things, or why you would grip his arm as a piss poor substitute for a crutch when the two of you walked along the street. Nobody else would know - at least, neither of you would ever tell - but the satisfied puff of his chest and the fact he stands just a little bit prouder might make them connect the dots. That, and the lovebites that creep out from underneath the neckline of your shirt which, coincidentally, only seemed to darken after he came back. Nah, he thinks to himself, it wouldn’t be so damn bad.

“I thought you were tired.”

There’s a hint of concern in your voice, peeking out from between the teasing and he grunts, acknowledging your words before his hands wrap around your wrists and urges them to loop around his neck. He knows he needs to do this, the action a silent beg for you to just relax and let him treat you right in the way you know he always will. With his neck flush in the crooks of your elbows, you tug him, pulling his face to yours and raking your fingers through his wet hair.

“Never too tired for you.”

His stubble scrapes against your nose as he mumbles his confession between kisses down from your forehead, a delicious burn leaving a trail that makes your heart beat impossibly faster between your ribs. Grip falling to your waist, Daryl’s rough fingers inch towards the apex of your thighs, but he moves them so fucking slow you're tempted to just reach down and push them into you like you intended to do with his cock. Before you can entertain the idea any longer, he catches your lips in a clash of tongue and teeth and knowingly smirks against your lips. He’s dedicated, attentive, and what kind of man would have the heart to deny you? He would do anything for you, all you had to do was ask.

Daryl eagerly swallows the moan you let out against his lips when his middle finger curls into you, the vibrations spreading along his tongue and consuming him from the inside out. Your thighs spread wider for him, welcoming him - no, begging him - for more and it riles him up almost comically well. Whether it was intentional or not, he would never know. He pulls his face away just inches, breath heavy against your parted lips before he sends you a small smile, an underlying mischief peeking out from the tiniest sliver of teeth he exposes. Leaning more of his weight onto his knee, his left hand travels around your waist to your ass, digging his dull fingernails into the flesh and pulling towards him, bringing your hips off the cold ceramic and snaking that arm into the curve he’s just created.

Before you can even brace yourself, he pushes a second finger in, curling languid with accelerating speed, revelling in the heat you bring him with an audible groan that reverberates off the shower walls. Already so desperate, the feeling nearly makes your legs shake under your own weight, but Daryl’s prepared - he could keep you up with the hand he has splayed across your upper back and he’s secretly proud of it. His mouth returns to you again, tongue surging to meet yours as if just the taste of your kiss would satisfy his desire to taste what’s beginning to coat down his palm.

It doesn’t, but it’s a damn good substitute.

Nails scratching pathetically at his scalp, your lungs beg for oxygen, but you ignore your body’s pleading for as long as you can. You need Daryl. Just him. Just him. His fingers are ardent, all of them pushing and pulling and toying and touching you in a way that skyrockets you into an overwhelming nirvana and it feels good. It feels so good to be with him again, surrounded by his scent and his heat, that you start to entertain the thought of begging for him. You try to do just that, but every sound coming from your lips is only absorbed greedily by his before you pull him away by his hair, taking large gulps of oxygen as he does the same.

Not even a second passes before you’re grinding down into his palm with pleas falling into the steam of the shower, all your words going straight down to his cock. Gritting his teeth, he growls at your desperation, lips shooting down along your collarbone before catching the skin between teeth. He has your whole body memorized, proof of that fact littered across your body in the form of lovebites, memories seared into your mind of his everything and it’s almost too much to handle. Almost. But you need more. And Daryl knows, much too perceptive in all senses of the word.

His left arm snakes up to your neck, the nape of it secured in a grip firm enough to pull your hips down onto his muscular thigh, spreading you and rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves with his rough skin. Something between a swear and Daryl’s name chokes through your throat and he curls his two fingers just enough for you to repeat the sound, the movement perhaps pulling your hips forwards toward him. With the way you grind down so readily on him, it wasn’t easy to tell whether the roll of your lower body was from his fingers or the lust running through your veins. A satisfied smirk worms its way onto his face that you want to kiss off, but your head is stuck against the ceramic tiling by his hand tugging securely on your hair. Not enough to hurt you. Never enough to hurt you.

He can feel it now, the fact that you’re close, and it only makes him work harder. Maybe it was selfish of him, expediting your pleasure so he can finally seek out his, but he’s damn near shaking with the thought of finally being able to be with you in one of the ways he always wants to be. Sometimes Daryl felt like a teenager with all this certain enthusiasm he can’t seem to control with you around, but you had never complained - you made him feel alive in all the best ways - and he thanked whoever was pulling the strings in his favour for bringing him to you. Circling his thigh, he pushes everything he can up into you, the pressure making you feel like you’re floating. Fingers carding through his hair, your whole body tightens around him in a silent plea, and he's pretty sure he would have to be just about the biggest idiot in existence to ever deny you.

“Give it to me. C’mon, give it to me. Ya wanted my cock didn’t ya? Jus’ give it to me an’ I’ll make ya feel even better.”

Give it to me.

Daryl’s voice makes your mind swim, the growl rough and dangerous like everyone always tends to think he is, and incoherence drops from your lips, echoing against the confines of the walls as his breath fans your ear. Rutting your hips up to his hand, the knot in your abdomen snaps, the proclamation of it escaping you in a broken moan of his name. He can feel your body’s reactions before you start to get those familiar sparking waves of pleasure, the clench of you around him growing sporadic as he continues to unravel you with his teeth gritted, the unrelenting precision of his fingers sending you clawing and tugging at his scalp with no regard of your strength for just a moment.

His groan at the sensations edges out the haze of your climax and you immediately detach from him, pulling your body back from his so abruptly that he slips from you. Scrunching his nose in disappointment, his large hands cling at the back of your thighs, bringing your chest and forehead to his as if he couldn’t stand being apart from you for even just a few seconds.

“Sorry- sorry if that hurt I didn’t mean to-”

Face inches from yours, he shakes his head and cuts you off with a series of hungry pecks. One to your sinfully soft lips, then to the corner of your mouth, then one to your jawbone, devouring your apology right then and there as he overtakes your senses.

“‘S alright. It felt good.”

Then he kisses you again, urgent all the same, but he only pushes a firm brush of his mouth against yours. The movement is like a signature, as if it were his name scribbled easily along at the bottom of a letter - a soft possession that you wear along the tingles of your lips. It makes you claw at him again, tugging on the sides of his hips to pull him flush against you, fingernails digging crescent shapes he wants to see come morning, and your apprehension all but dissolves into the hot water of the shower. You were his, he was yours and in his mind, there was nothing he wanted more than for you to show him just what he does to you.

“Anythin’ ya do feels good.”

It’s stupid, how you could be in the middle of something so intimate and a simple compliment from him could leave you flushed from the neck upwards, but he loves it. He loves the little whimper you let out at his words and he smiles that lopsided boyish grin that makes your heart skip a beat. When he smiles at you like that, it makes you feel like the only person in the entire world. No walkers, no Alexandrians, no runs or patients at the infirmary to steal you or him away from the other. There was no one except you and Daryl - and it’s been too damn long since it was like this.

Body flush against yours, he snakes a hand down between his legs and the other grips at your thigh, hooking it around his torso and begging with a roll of his hips for you to rest your leg there. Each breath he takes sends a jolt of pleasure blossoming against your ribs, his skin rubbing against your chest so deliciously it makes your mouth fall open in silent pants of air. You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but they open when Daryl says your name, broken by a curse that falls somewhere after the first letter. He looks good like this - eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched.

Gritting his teeth, his mouth can barely form a coherent sentence with how much excitement is coursing through him, and he’s trying his fucking best to hold back from slamming into you until you give him a nod or a pull or anything, but then something in him breaks. The feeling of just having you so damn close worms its way into his brain and he takes himself in his fist, dragging along to gather the remnants of your climax and notches himself, all the while groaning from the heat emanating off you.

“‘S this okay? Need t’know if this’s okay.”

Slurred speech. It was so uncharacteristic of the Daryl everyone else knew - the Daryl who was so sure of himself, the Daryl who wore a permanent scowl on his face, the Daryl who was so mysterious, never speaking anything above a growl - and you think you could have laughed had it not been for the fact the words themselves dig up memories of all the times he had said them to you before. Every cell in your body lights up, high alert now that he’s in you, but he’s not moving. He’s not inching into you or filling you in the only way he can and you push your hips towards him, greedy movements making you swallow more of him. Taking a sharp breath, he lets you rut against him, but still, he doesn’t fucking move.

“God, Daryl- yes. Yes, it’s okay. More- more than okay.”

Sometimes you hated him, and then hated how stupid you felt for hating him.

He waits for your words. He always does. Without fail he checks on you before he slides into you. He never wants to take because he always wants to be good for you, but sometimes you wish he would. Sometimes you wish he would just take from you - take everything you have. There is nothing in this world that is not shared between the two of you. Daryl’s wholly yours as you are wholly his.

Curses drop from his lips, your name thrown in once or twice as if he’s reminding himself you’re real as he feels you around him. They fly out of his mouth like the bolts from his crossbow and ricochet off every wall as he begins to move, slow at first, experimental maybe with his hand secure against your thigh, then he starts building and building into a heavy, sinful rhythm. Shakily, Daryl groans, the breath he lets out tendrilling at your chin before he sucks frantically at your bottom lip, your noises meeting his as they hit the ceramic wall.

He wants to live in this moment forever; immortalize the way you look and sound on one of those VHSes, write the damn date on it, and hide it away for his and your eyes only so it’s rewatchable and revisitable and reliveable. It's not enough to just sear you into his memory like he’s done so many times before because you’re damn near perfect. Like you were made for him - for him to give you everything he wants to give to you.

“Fuck- fuck- you feel better’n I remembered. How’s‘at possible?”

The words escape him, rushing out as if you’ve put a spell on him, and they almost escape you, too, your pulse beating in your ears. But he’s so close to you, growling out through gritted teeth into your ear and pushing his lips to the curve of your jawbone like they need to be on your skin. He pulls his body away, chest leaving yours, and you pull at his waist to bring him back, whining lewd for him and only him, shameless and betraying the blush you feel as you register his stutters, but he doesn’t. Instead, Daryl smiles, that same damn grin with his teeth hooked along his bottom lip and eyes hooded as he watches every change in expression. You groan, half in the way he rolls his pelvis just enough to rub against that small bundle of nerves that beg for him, and half in annoyance at the way that lascivious expression seems to make every electron in you buzz.

“Shut- shut up.”

He lets out a sharp breath, a singular amused ‘ha’ following it, cock hardening and twitching even more at the fact he’s making you blush like that first night he had lavished every inch of your body with his lips - like you didn’t deserve every single damn word escaping from him. Leaning his weight against his left forearm that lies on the side of your head, Daryl brings his face to yours, nipping at your lips and seeking your tongue before he starts speaking.

“You should see yourself like this, y’know. Fuckin’ perfect for me.”

For a man who only ever growls and mutters, he certainly liked to talk a lot when he was pounding into you the way only he knows how and you’re just so damn unbelievable for him. For him. You’re his to love and it sparks something within in him that makes his tongue fucking run and his hips speed up involuntarily. Hell, you probably heard more of his voice in this shower tryst than the whole first nightwatch you had with him. You’re not even sure the water is beating down onto you anymore because the heat of your body makes the shower pale in comparison.

The sweat accumulating on his back and chest and everywhere is washed away almost immediately as it forms and you’re grasping for something to hold onto. Clawing, you wrap both your arms under and around his shoulders and scratch desperately at his back, grinding up against him and making jumbled noises of moans and Daryl’s name when he drags against that spot he knows so well. It’s skin on skin, the ceramic wall ceasing to feel cold as you screw your eyes shut and let yourself mount and mount with each roll of his hips. You hear a nearly feral growl, feeling your leg being hiked up higher by the elbow hooked underneath your thigh, and a loud noise breaks from your throat when his thumb swipes where his cock meets you.

“C’mon, we ain’t got all night.”

You’re close and he knows it. It was like he was rubbing it in your face, the fact he could make you like this - how quickly he could reduce you into the incoherent, ruined state you always seemed to become for him. Attentive. He’s always attentive. You can tell by the way he’s memorized everything that makes you shake and capitalizes on them, thrusts coupled with the tight circles pulling you closer and closer to that precipice of pleasure, but he says those words anyways, hoping to get a reaction from you. Daryl’s not an impatient lover - he would spend hours buried in you if you let him - but he’s so damn close and perhaps almost selfishly, he wants to watch you succumb first. He wants to watch the water race down your body as you writhe for him against the wall, and he wants that to send him over the edge.

“Then- then do better, Daryl.”

You bite back, your breath grazing against his neck and a wet heat rushes through him, making him groan nearly wrecked as his hair tickles your cheek. Reaching behind his muscular body to his shoulder blades, one of his large hands is more than enough to wrap around both of your wrists and he takes them in his grasp, moving them until they’re secure against the ceramic wall behind you. You’re warm for him. Pliable for him despite the veil of distaste in your voice and he can’t get enough of it.

Daryl’s so fucking happy you bite back.

His hips stop and you let out an almost childish cry, but he stays buried deep, filling you up to the brim as the water beats down on the both of you and holding you against the tiles by the weight he’s pressing from where you meld to him. His face is so close to your ear now. So much so that you can feel the breath when he speaks, a dangerous growl resounding through your body before his teeth graze along your neck.

“Hm? I ain’t never heard a complaint from you be- before. That a- fuck- are ya challengin’ me?”

An expletive drops from Daryl’s lips when you clench around him, no doubt from the sudden crash of your mounting pleasure, and he pushes impossibly further into you, firmly pinning you down until he knows you won’t be able to move anymore. He wants to show you he can stop at any moment, that he can make you work for it, but you both know he’ll give in. Maybe you didn’t know the extent of which you have him wrapped around your finger, but if you even knew half of it, you would know he would never stop. Not when he was so desperate for you he can barely think of anything except the way you look and feel. At least, not unless you wanted him to.

“Are you g-gonna take it up?”

Although your mouth ceases there, your brain runs, pleas tickling at the tip of your tongue, but you can barely manage to form the meager few syllables that have already escaped you. Eyebrows knotted at your forehead, you try desperately to coax more movement from him - a whine, a whimper, a thrash of your pinned hands flattened by his strong grip - but Daryl’s so damn still and it’s driving you crazy. When your body settles for only ragged breathing and shaking thighs, he takes it as his cue to lean down, lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s so affectionate you forget that, just moments ago, he was relentlessly pounding into you.

“Don’t know. Seems like you might be wantin’ it more’n me.”

Smiling against your mouth, he pulls away just enough to speak. A challenge in his words so obvious to you that you try in vain to buck your hips to his. If he didn’t sound so good and look so good and feel so damn good, you would have denied it, but you’re strung so taut, so close to the peak, that you can barely form a retort. A stupid, handsome smirk rests on his lips as he waits. Patient. Like it wasn’t affecting him, being buried in you. He’s just waiting for your words - goading you as he watches from underneath his lashes.

“Daryl, I swear to God if you stop right-“

The insincere threat is enough to spur him into action. Partly due to the fact you sound so desperate and ruined for him, and partly because he just needs to feel you again - he would lay you down and take you the way you deserved on the bed come morning, but right now was a different matter entirely. Swearing, his smirk drops in favour of a scowl, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he snaps up into you in quick succession. The hand at your thigh is roaming now, massaging and palming wherever his nimble fingers can worm their way onto before it splays across your ass, using the grip to pull your body impossibly closer to his. Daryl would have made you beg for him - he wanted to - but he can’t stop himself. Not when you look so pretty up against the wall and you’re taking his cock so well.

“Been gone four days an’ you’re already so damn needy.”

Whether that statement was directed at you or himself, you would never know.

An abashed whimper escapes through you and you want to deny it, perhaps just to see what would happen, but you can’t. You can’t because Daryl’s right. He knows he is, and you know he is. You thrash your arms so you can touch him, feel his skin underneath your fingers, but his grip around your wrists keeps you firm against the ceramic tiling - just enough to keep you pinned so he can admire the way you squirm for him. Grunts and groans of your name escape from him with each thrust, the feeling of your body melded to his much too intoxicating for him to keep his mouth shut.

“What, you embarrassed now? Wanna cover your mouth? Keep them noises from me when you’re soundin’ so damn pretty? Ya better not be thinkin’ about it. ‘Cause ya damn well ain’t gotta.”

Daryl tilts his head, eyes squinting in faux-concern and mocking you as his hips relentlessly hit up into yours, pushing out the breath from your lungs which escape in tantalizing gasps with each roll. You’re so close, and the only thing you can do is moan at the sound of his rough voice, the coil tightening in your abdomen because of his determined thrusts. You just need a little more - just a little more - and he reads you like a book.

Without warning, the hand pinning your wrists frees itself, his finger pinpointing back between your thighs with an unadulterated eagerness to pull your climax from you and you damn near cry out Daryl’s name as you claw at his back. It’s like second nature to him, the way he can touch you and make you crumble for him. Practice does make perfect, and he’s always been a persistent man.

“Ya sure as hell weren’t when you were bein’ a brat.”

Everything he’s doing to you is almost effortless. It makes your legs shake and without warning, your thighs tense up, a white hot surge of pleasure erupting from the base of your stomach and you gasp a broken moan of Daryl’s name as you clutch at his neck in an effort to keep yourself from collapsing onto him. He holds you close, chest pushed up to yours and breathing ruined into your ear as he works you through your climax with dextrous fingers, chasing his own as his rhythm begins to falter. Sporadic thrusts meet each flutter of your clenching warmth. until he can’t hold out anymore.

Screwing his eyes shut, a stuttered chanting of profanities mixed in perfectly with pleads of your name fan out from his mouth and he pulls out, rubbing himself harsh against your thigh before your fingers wrap around his cock. Fuck, Daryl nearly crumbles right then and there, a ragged groan rushing from him before his hips jerk upwards to your touch - nothing could even compare to it and he thinks nothing could ever come close. Nothing except you. Pulsing in your grasp, both of his rough hands dig into either of your thighs and he stills, teeth gritted as the evidence of his pleasure hits your stomach before being washed away in the steady stream of water.

Satisfied, you smile and lean towards him, your head coming off the ceramic wall, and he parts his lips immediately for your tongue, but you pull away after giving him a quick peck. Scrunching his nose, Daryl pats lightly at your thigh for your attention and seeks your lips once more, moving his with the same amount of overwhelming love and affection he always does. It makes you feel warm inside, like you were the only one in the world for him. And you were. At least, in his mind you were.

He releases the grip he has on your thigh and slowly lowers it, his hand still ghosting close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off his body. Both legs still shaking slightly, your foot hits the floor of the shower and you lean your weight on it, tentative and experimentally at first before you overestimate its security and half-fall-half-stumble into him. Daryl notices, of course he does, and he swallows down the pride welling in his chest as his sure grasp steadies you against his body.

“Hey, hey, I got ya. Jus’- jus’- I got ya.”

By instinct, he speaks, the rumble of his chest against yours making your heart well up with the familiar fondness you always experience when it comes to him. Daryl wasn’t a man of many words even though you had managed to break him out of his shell a little - at least with you - but there was no doubt in your mind that he genuinely and wholeheartedly cared about you. In his eyes, you had strung the stars into the sky and he always treated you with a softness he never thought himself capable of.

With one hand on his waist and one on his shoulder, you use Daryl as a crutch, continuing to lean your weight on your legs until they cease to shake. When you can stand on your own, albeit with wobbly legs, you link your fingers in both of his and meet his protective gaze - alert as if prepared to catch you again if your body gave any type of signal. He smiles when he sees the expression on your face and brings your knuckles to his lips, pressing a firm kiss onto the back of each of your hands before letting go and reaching for the bar of soap you two had ignored in exchange for something more riveting.

“Here, let me- I’ll help ya wash up.”

It meets your shoulder and it’s cold as he trails it down, lathering your right arm before moving across your chest and to your left. Smiling at his concern, you hum, nodding your head and content at the feeling of his tenderness as he continues to dutifully run the suds down along your body. Daryl unabashedly goes about copping a feel or two when his hand just so happens to fall onto your chest or your ass, a boyish grin meeting your quirked eyebrow when you question his intentions with a look. If you actually, truly cared to ask him, he would say he was helping you wash your body and making sure he was doing it to the best of his ability - quality assurance or some shit like that.

He helps you lather, too, calloused fingers rubbing off dead skin much better than yours could as he focuses the showerhead on him. You laugh when he pulls you into him, water streaming down your body along with his hands as the bubbles wash off your body and you run the bar of soap along the broad expanse of his shoulders, doing your fair share of subtle… touching too. Daryl all but melts into your caring hands, revelling in the way your attention is solely focused on him before he grunts, as if signalling you to look at him. When you do, his hands loop around your waist, head tilted to one side as he gingerly rubs those little shapes he always love to draw onto your skin.

“Y’alright? Was, uh, was that alright, I mean.”

Allowing you to maneuver him under the shower, he begrudgingly lets go of you to rinse off all the soap and feels genuinely clean for the first time in what felt like days. Smiling, you respond, saluting playfully and laying a small peck onto the corner of his lips before you spin around, pulling the curtain open just enough to reach for the towel lying just a few inches away on the towel rack but still keeping the warmth from the water in.

“Yes, sir!”

His cock twitches at the name, betraying the slur of fatigue in his voice and he sighs at himself, turning the shower knob off and opening the curtain fully, reaching for his own towel that hangs next to yours. He always did feel like a teenager when it came to you, and usually he didn’t mind it, but he really was tired before this and his back is killing him, so maybe another time.

Drying your body, you turn your head towards him and smile before making quick work of your wet hair and stepping out, pulling your underwear on from where you left it on the bathroom counter. It’s a small smile, one fully innocent and only ever reserved for him, but that look makes your words replay in his mind. A shudder runs through him as he tries to ease a smile onto his face too, admiring the scene of you for a moment. It’s domesticity, showing him a homelife he could actually feel loved and safe in; reminding Daryl something like that actually existed for him.

He imagines meeting you in a different world, wooing you like you deserved through coffee dates and Radiohead concerts, not through killing reanimated corpses or guarding Alexandria’s walls together, and his whole body calms down.

But then you pull on a shirt that’s much too big for you - one of his shirts that you said you liked wearing because it smelled like him - and he swallows his spit as if he hadn’t seen you naked just moments ago, a familiar shudder running through him again. Definitely another time. Near future, preferably.

Hopefully.

“You coming?”

Your voice breaks Daryl out of his daydream and he grunts an answer, smirking at the joke that just popped into his head as he replies with a curt ‘I just did’ and catches the pair of boxers you throw at him in response. Rolling your eyes, you comb your fingers through your hair and try to dry it as much as you can with the towel before reaching for your toothbrush. He follows suit, dressed in only his boxers as he brushes his teeth and shakes his wet hair at you like a dog, causing you to whip water at him off your fingertips after you wash off the excess toothpaste dribbling at the corners of your mouth. Smiling internally, he spits, tasting mint on his tongue that he'd much rather replace with the taste of your lips, even though he knows full well you’re just as minty as he is.

“Thank you.”

Meeting his eye in the mirror, you give him a confused look, eyebrows raised in an expression he thought was much too cute on your face for your own good. Your hands don’t still as you continue to rub out the water in your hair, determined not to go to bed with it too wet and risking it to clump up and dry tangled.

“For lettin’ me, uh, do that.”

His naturally gravelly voice clears up, turning slightly more timid than you were used to and you notice the shift in his behaviour. He avoids your gaze, waiting for your response as he fiddles with the lantern he now has in his grasp, unsure of what you would say and you decide your hair is dry enough. Hanging your towel back onto the rack next to his, you grab his free hand and lead the two of you back towards the bed, smiling affectionately as you turn off the lightsource and place it onto the nightstand. Wide-eyed, Daryl stares at you, as if waiting for you to tell him to leave - that you hated what he had done - but you break him from that train of thought as you slip under the covers and welcome him to join you.

Relief washes over him and he happily climbs in, groaning at the feeling of your body next to his and he succumbs to the comfort of the mattress. Pushing yourself into his side, his arms automatically open for you and he swears he could cry when you brush your thumb against his cheekbone and lean up to him.

“Anything for you.”

He feels the words as you whisper them just inches away from his lips, and he relishes in them when you pull away from the quick peck and dig your face into your pillow, closing your eyes and just looking so at peace. You’re so close to him Daryl’s in awe and he can’t help but stare. Wanting to hold onto the feeling of his skin a little longer, your finger draws a little heart over where his beats in his chest and you speak again, voice so warm and sincere.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Home. That’s what it is to him now, too.

“Glad ‘m home too.”

With a final kiss laid on your forehead, Daryl echoes your statement and pulls your body closer into his. A small smile tugs at his lips and his arm slings lazily at your waist before he, too, closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into the lull of sleep.

It was good to be back.

Back to a home he had made with you.

──── ⋙

@daryldixonluv @pulplorrd @fuseburner @hells-mistress @maria--grey-blog @marylimlp @pncnsc @tinachristeen @hail-yourselves @whimsicallymad @just-always-tired @phoenixblack89

comment to be on my taglist!

#haruwrites #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon #daryl x you #twd smut #daryl smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl the walking dead #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #the walking dead smut #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead imagine #daryl dixon oneshot

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duskholland · 3 years

Note

Had to send this to you bc your writing is so amazing 😩 friend! Tom showing you pictures on his camera roll of a trip he was on and forgetting he had nudes in there, and you scroll to accidentally find them and you’re both stunned for a second but he shoots his shot by telling you that there’s more, you can look at them if you want. and you do, and toms behind you watching you look at them. he even tells you there’s a video too, if you wanna see it. and you’re like now or never, so you tell him yes. bc the sexual tension would be so high bc it’s uncharted waters and I could see Tom dragging you into his lap to watch the video together and him being like am I big enough for you? I was thinking about you and it would be SMUTTTTTTT whew I need to lay down 🥲🥵

ugh...your mind. I love this! 18+ nsfw !!!

– clearing out the askbox –

“Hey, do you want to see..? I took some photos of it- Wait, let me just find them.”

You wait patiently as Tom digs around in his pocket, his tongue between his lips as he focuses on procuring the device. He makes a loud tada sound as he whips it out, his eyes sparkling as he quickly starts to scroll through his photos. You watch him closely, admiring his side profile discreetly.

You’ve known Tom for years, met him at a function in London through a mutual friend. When he’d moved into a large townhouse just in the outskirts of the city a few months ago, you’d been one of the people to move in with him. He’s been away for several weeks, on press in Europe, but now that he’s back, he’d dragged you down onto one of the sofas in the living room to share his stories and show off his photos.

“Is it really as big as they say?” You wonder. “I’ve never seen the Eiffel Tower before.”

Tom hums, and you watch as he scrolls through his photos, eyes focused. He looks very good today -- biceps pressing out against his black t-shirt, his Rolex glinting on his wrist. His hair lies naturally over his forehead too -- soft, brown, wavy. Your friend is very attractive, something you’ve always been aware of, but the time apart has made your feelings sharpen.

“Yeah, it’s bloody huge,” Tom muses. “Ah! Here you go, love.”

Tom carefully passes you his phone, and you swallow harshly when your fingers brush his and you feel sparks light off at his touch.

“Wow,” you exclaim, squinting as you admire the photo of the tower, soaring up into the sky. “You’re right. It is big.”

“Mmm. There’s more. You can scroll if you want.”

You start to flick through the photos, smiling as they change a little with each shot. Some of them are blurrier than others, and after a while they change as Tom moves from the ground below the monument, to climbing the staircase, then getting in the lift, then travelling to the top. You enjoy watching the story progress, seeing the shots of some of Tom’s friends, then a few selfies of Tom in sunglasses with a wide cityscape captured behind him, then--

You gasp softly as you scroll a little bit too far, and find yourself staring at a photo of Tom’s cock.

“Oh shit,” Tom mutters. You feel him go very still beside you. You’re sitting so close together that you can feel his thigh, warm to touch. “I… Forgot that was on there.”

You swallow dryly, suddenly feeling your pulse throbbing in your ears. You can’t stop looking at the photo, marvelling at the sight of Tom’s cock, red and erect, sitting in his hand. He’s clearly in a hotel room, and the lighting and the angle are very good, leaving little to the imagination. You bite your lip as you notice the way he has a strong vein curving down the side of his member, and find yourself squeezing your thighs together as you try, desperately, to snap out of it.

“It-it’s okay,” you mutter, voice hoarse. Your face feels hot with embarrassment, but you can’t deny the arousal coursing through your system too.

“There’s more,” Tom says, voice low. You can feel him looking at you, and there’s no doubt in your mind that your friend can tell, just from your reaction, that you like looking at his nudes. “You can look at them too, if you want.”

You tilt your head slowly, glancing at him, your eyes taking in his expression: cheeks slightly rosy, smirk on his lips, gaze pooled with lust. It makes you shiver.

“Okay.”

Tom moves closer, and you can feel his breath on your neck as his fingers slowly shift into your hair, moving it out of your face very delicately, gently. You swallow, your heart beating roughly in your chest as you continue to scroll, your eyes widening as you enjoy the different angles of his cock, each captured crisply by the camera. You feel yourself getting wet, partly from the photos, but also due to the way Tom’s so close. He dips his head down and your breath hitches as he ghosts his lips over your neck, kissing you so softly that it’s almost as if he isn’t there.

“There’s a video too,” he adds, husking into your ear. You moan softly when he sucks on the tender spot behind your jaw. “Watch it.”

You oblige, scrolling past more shots of his cock before arriving at the video. With slightly shaky fingers, you press the play button, biting your lip as you watch the short clip. The air fills with the sound of Tom’s groans, distant and buzzed with slight static, but still hearty enough to make you whimper. He’s kissing your neck with renewed strength, both hands wrapping around your middle, fingers caressing your sides as you stare at the phone. The sight of his arm veins flexing as he gets himself off makes you squirm, aroused not even beginning to cover how turned on you are.

The air is thick as the video ends, Tom cumming with a low cry, his seed shooting out over his hand as his upper stomach. You let the screen fall dark, your breathing heavy and unsteady as he stops kissing your neck.

“What do you think?” Tom asks, his accent hanging heavy in his voice. “Am I big enough for you, darling?”

You nod. With nervous hands, you put the phone down and turn to face him, feeling a surge of confidence as his hold on your waist guides you to sit in his lap. You straddle him, grunting as you feel his cock straining up against his grey sweats, and the pressure that it provides to your aching clit makes you whimper and repeat the action.

“Definitely big enough,” you mutter, looking at your friend closely. He seems to be just as aroused as you are, his hands guiding your movements as you slowly grind down against him.

“I was thinking about you,” Tom admits, “when I was filming the video. Thought about sending it to you, just to see if you’d like it.”

You bite your lip, realising that the attraction you feel towards Tom hasn’t been one-sided.

“Why didn’t you? I would’ve liked to see it.”

Tom’s eyes twinkle with arousal. “Wanted to do it in person, watch your face when you saw my cock.” One of his hands moves away from your waist, and he slips it between your legs. You’re so glad you’re wearing a skirt, because all you have to do is part your thighs and then he’s able to slip two slender fingers between your folds. Tom gives your clit a few teasing rubs before slipping his fingertips down to your entrance. You whimper when he slips them into your heat, meeting no resistance, and you moan loudly as he curls his fingers and starts to stroke up against your g-spot. “Fuck, darling. You’re soaked for me.” He leans in to peck your cheek, leaving his lips by your ear as he adds, “Do I turn you on?”

“Yes,” you whine immediately. Your moans grow louder as Tom continues to fuck your heat, his thumb shifting up to nudge against your clit. You reach up and grab at his shoulders, grinding down to meet his fingers every time they thrust up into you, feeling arcs of pleasure spiral out from your cunt with each movement. “You feel so good, Tom. Been dreaming about this for months.”

“Mmm, should’ve just said, love.” Tom’s back to nibbling at your neck. “Anything else you’ve thought about doing with me?”

As good as it feels to have his fingers working you open, you know there’s one thing on your mind.

“Yeah,” you admit breathlessly. You look him straight in the eye. “I want you to fuck me, Tom.”

He raises an eyebrow, smirk intensifying. “Oh, really?”

You hum. “Yeah. I want to ride you right here, right now. Feel how big your cock actually is.”

Tom swears, his fingers leaving your centre. “Okay,” he agrees, voice tight. “There’s a condom in my jacket, I’ll go-”

“I’ll get it,” you say instead. You kiss his cheek before standing from his lap, your legs a little shaky as you walk from the living room to the porch, thankful that you’re the only ones home. By the time you return to the lounge, Tom’s stripped off completely, sitting bare on the comfortable sofa with his hand around his cock. You toss him the condom as you take a few moments to pull off your tight shirt, your skirt, and your underwear, keeping your bra on before settling in his lap.

“You’re so hot,” Tom mutters, running his hands all over you. His touch against your bare skin feels electric, and you find yourself pushing into him as you enjoy feeling him map you out. “Bloody stunning.”

“Thank you,” you reply, almost a little bashful. You sit back and watch as Tom pumps his cock, hard and leaking precum, just like the video, before he rolls down the condom. Your eyes admire the lines of his abs, strong and defined, and the rest of him, equally attractive, and you feel your cunt clench as you imagine how good it’s going to feel to have him unravel you. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

With the condom on, Tom’s hands go back to your hips. He gently pulls you forward and you sit up, reaching down to guide his cock between your folds.

“Neither can I,” he admits, eyes trained between your legs. “Been thinking about- fuck- about your sweet little pussy for months, sweetheart, I--” He breaks off completely when you slide down onto him, your walls expanding to accommodate him. Your forehead falls to rest on his shoulder as you breathe deeply, moaning as he fills you up. “So good.”

“You’re so big, Tom,” you whimper. After leaving a moment to adjust, you sit back up and slowly start to ride him, taking your time as you get used to the fit of his body. You can’t stop yourself from whimpering, loudly, as his tip brushes up against your g-spot repeatedly, igniting a deep frenzy of sparks in the pit of your stomach. “Feels so fucking good inside me.”

Tom’s face is pulled tight with enjoyment, and you moan as you see his jaw clenching and the deep line of concentration furrowed between his brows. When he opens his eyes, you see nothing but appreciation and arousal webbed across the depths of his gaze.

“Love your pussy, Y/N,” he moans, cheeks flushing deeper. One of his hands stays on your hip, guiding you, and the other goes to touch your clit. He grins as he rubs your bud and feels you clench around him. “You like that, yeah? Like the way it feels for me to be inside you?”

“Yes, Tom,” you whisper.

“I know you do, I can feel how wet you are.” Tom’s watching you like you’re a spectacle, his words interspaced with small grunts as he lifts his hips to meet your movements. “So fucking snug for me, aren’t you, love? Your pussy feels so good... I’m not going to last long.”

“Neither am I,” you warn. You can already feel it building, building, building, and with each slap of skin on skin, coupled with the noise of your wet arousal getting fucked by his member, you get closer. “Fuck, Tom, ‘m gonna cum-”

“Do it,” he coaxes, his own voice strained. “Wanna watch you fall apart for me, love. Go on.” He rubs your clit a little faster. “I’ve got you.”

Tom’s grip on you is unwavering as you peak with a loud moan, your walls spasming around his cock as your orgasm sweeps across you in an intense wave of unyielding pleasure. You grip at his shoulders, shuddering as you continue to bounce on his length, not stopping until Tom climaxes as well. You feel his cock pulse as he finishes, his breathing coming out in low, grunting pants, and as the two of you ride it out together, his forehead falls to your shoulder.

“So good,” he whimpers, lazily kissing up your neck. You still in his lip, recovering your breath, and then both of Tom’s hands move to your face. He looks at you, eyes full of appreciation, and you find yourself smiling softly at him. “Can I kiss you?”

You giggle, nodding your head. “Seems like we’re doing this in a bit of a backwards order,” you point out.

Tom smiles before uniting your lips, his mouth feeling hot against yours. He’s still smiling when he pulls back, his eyes slightly nervous.

“We are,” he admits. “Would you like to come out on a date with me?”

You nod, your heart warming in your chest.

“Yes, Tom,” you say, pausing to kiss him again. “I’d love to.”

#this concept...*chefs kiss* thanks anon #tom holland smut #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x reader smut #smut #tomblurbs #myblurbs #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #q #tom.filth #tom!ftl

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arcadejohn127-9 · 3 years

Note

Can I request? Please. Uh, can you maybe do about the boys reacting to an MC who steals their things like clothes and wears them around the house bc they miss them? (Ps absolutely love your writing you are doing an amazing job! But remember to take breaks and drink water. 😊)

Aw thank you! I'm making sure to not overdo it and I've been looking after myself!

Lucifer:

He was finally back from a meeting he had with Diavolo

The meeting went much later in the day than anyone expected

So the last thing he wanted was to deal with anything within the house

He desired nothing more than to just take off his uniform and get into something more comfortable

That's when he saw you, his coat draped around your shoulders, you were clutching it close to you

He leaned against the wall, watching you snuggle into his coat

"enjoying yourself"

"ah-! Lucifer! I am, I missed you."

He smiled, adjusting his coat on you

"I missed you too, you look adorable right now."

He held you close, leading you to his bedroom and let you sit on his bed whilst he changed into more comfortable clothes

He cuddled you whilst you wore his coat, enjoying how big it looked on you

Mammon:

He barged back into the house, grumbling to himself

The witches had him running around doing all sorts of chores

He was tired and his legs were sore

You were currently walking around the house, mammons jacket zipped up

It was so warm and it smelled just like him

You were missing him all day

Mammons mood immediately lifted when he saw you in his jacket

"You look better in it than me, Should I get us matching jacket's."

"but then what will I wear when I miss you?"

"I- I guess you can keep it but only until I need it back, it's apart of my look."

He picked you up, taking you to his room

He definitely will take pictures of you

Levithan:

He didn't expect to come back from club to see you in his chair

You were curled up in his jacket on your phone

He slammed his bedroom door shut, trying to muffle his scream with his hand

He didn't expect to see you in his clothes!!!

"w-what are you doing?! It looks good- this is just like an anime I've been watching!"

"I missed you, how was club?"

"g-great-!"

He was too shy to have you sit on his lap but if you did it yourself, he would not complain

Asked to take pictures of you and it's now his wallpaper

Satan:

He didn't expect it to find you in his sweater

He took it off as it was covered in cat fur and he was currently hiding the cat from his brothers

Knowing they'd snitch

But here you were, laying on his bed snuggling into his sweater

"What a wonderful surprise."

"you're back! I missed you, devils been keeping me company."

"has he? Well, good thing I'm back."

He was little jealous of his cat

He sat with you and cuddled with you

Devil making sure to nudge himself between you two as much as possible

Asmodeus:

He just got back from being swarmed by his adoring fans

He didn't have his usual scarf today and so they were all asking about his new look

Asking if scarfs were still in season

He reassured them that this wasn't a permanent change to his fashion

But he didn't expect to find you walking around the dorm wearing his scarf

You didn't get time to prepare for his hug tackle

"you look stunning! You suit my scarf so well~"

"you were gone for so long, I missed you."

"I'm sorry, darling but atleast I got to see wearing my clothes."

He absolutely adores this

Keeps 'accidentally' leaving behind his clothes

Beezlebub:

He just got back from the gym, ready to consume the entire fridge

Most likely eating the fridge itself if anyone tried to stop him

But his pursuit for food was put on pause when he found you

You were completely engulfed in his hoodie, you were getting a drink out of the fridge

If it weren't for his stomach growling he could of kept looking at you for longer

"you're wearing my hoodie."

"you're back! I missed you."

"I missed you too, what's new in the fridge?"

He had you sitting on his shoulders, still in his hoodie

You were holding some snacks and he kept asking for you to feed him

Belphegor:

He grumbled as he lifted himself out of his sleeping spot

By now he's forgotten where he decided to sleep, wherever it was it had alot of boxes

He crawled out of the closet and stretched

But that's when he saw you across the way

Wearing his cardigan, leaning against the sofa on your phone

"My, my, missed me?"

"I did actually, how was your nap?"

"amazing.... even better knowing you've been wearing my clothes."

He hugged you from behind, sighing happily

#obey me #obey me shall we date #gamingclubpresident #aracadejohn217 9 #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me beezlebub #obey me leviathan #obey me luficer #obey me imagine #obey me x reader #obey me headcanon

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hansolmates · 4 years

Text

here comes the bride, all dressed in pride

summary; You and your cousin Doyeon have had beef with each other since the sandbox. When she plucks the last straw, you decide to end your long-simmering fight by claiming that you and her ex—Jeon Jungkook, are now boyfriend and girlfriend pairing; jungkook x reader (f) genre/warnings; fake dating!au, fluff, crack, mentions of cheating, lang, alcohol, mc eats meat, tw sexual harassment, toxic family, dick talk, making out, if u have that one family member that pulls bs on you constantly this is it, this fic is for all the people who have a huge ass family who wont leave them alone w.c; 17.3k a/n: my second fic for gcn’s 23 birthday project! the fact that wedding szn zoomed by us like that... and so bc im sad that so many weddings had to be postponed this fic was born! a huge thank u to vivi @eerieedits / @chillingtae for creating this BEAUTIFUL fic banner and separator pls check vivi out to make your fics all purty

prompts used: “You’ve always been beautiful to me, don’t you know that?” and “I never knew love could be like this, feel like this.”

if you enjoyed this pls consider giving a like and a share💕💕

Doyeon likes to call Jungkook, “the one who got away.”

You like to call Doyeon, “the one who drove him away.”

In secret, of course. In fact, the only person who knows how much you loathe Doyeon and her behavior is your father. And all your co-workers. And your boss. And your boss’ ex-husband.

And Jeon Jungkook, but of course you haven’t seen the man in two years and back then he was far too polite to address his concerns of your hatred of his then-girlfriend.

Okay, so everyone and their mother knows how much you don’t like your cousin. Kim Doyeon and you have had beef since the sandbox, and for whatever reason is always out to one-up you. A strange competitive nature in everything, academics, family, and even boys. The sick, twisted part of you has come to enjoy it. While you’re not a fighter as devout as Doyeon is, you have your own callous tendencies farmed from the seeds Doyeon has planted in your brain. She gives you a comment? You can’t help but throw one back. Since you’re a painfully mature soul you don’t have any mortal enemies as far as you know, Doyeon is the perfect amount of hot water to keep you on your toes.

“I’m really sorry that you couldn’t be a bridesmaid,” Doyeon cooes next to you, swirling her champagne glass with a too-jutted pout, “but if I did there’d be an odd number of pairings and you’re a little too old to be walking as a bridesmaid, am I right?”

Your nails. Are digging. Through your dress. Alas, you’re in public and you have class. Doyeon smiles at you with all teeth, reminding you of the Beldam from Coraline. Aside from that she looks absolutely stunning in that Lirika Matoshi strawberry dress that has her Instagram aching with likes and love from her baseless followers.

“I don’t know,” you reply lightly, leaning back in your seat, “I mean, if Yoojung and Rena can be bridesmaids and they’re three years older than me, wouldn’t I make the cut? It’s okay to be honest and say you just didn’t want me in the bridal party.”

Doyeon laughs, slaps your thigh like you told her the most hilarious joke in the world. Anyone passing by would think you’re best friends. You laugh too, incredulous at the amount of power she thinks she holds.

“Nice party,” you tack on, surveying the room. It’s filled with pastels and beiges, bright and airy. It’s Parisian themed, and while you’re not a fan of theming cultures, you can’t deny that you’re loving the infinite supply of macarons.

“Oh, yes. This is just a taste of the real wedding,” she laces her fingers together, as if she thinks she’s living an Elizibethean love story, “speaking of, you put on your RSVP that you’re bringing a plus one. Am I allowed to know who’s the unlucky date?”

“As if you care.”

“I care if you’re bringing Jimin. That tiny thing nearly gave Aunt Lillian a heart attack when he gave a striptease at Yoongi’s graduation party.”

You smirk softly at the bold memory. That was the plan.

Doyeon sighs dramatically, crossing her legs and popping out a cherry red heel. She plays with the back on the balls of her feet, letting the little pearly rhinestones glisten in the candlelight, “I should really commend you, cousin,” she drawls, “I mean, how kind of you to be so charitable and give your dopey friends a chance to have fun. After all, I’m sure it is difficult for someone like you to find a date.”

It’s no surprise as to how you end up with a date at any family formal gathering. You say you bring a plus one, and then between Jimin, Taehyung and Hoseok. The three of them draw straws as to who gets to gorge on free alcohol and food for that night.

“Difficult?” you arch a brow, “I get plenty of dates.”

Doyeon giggles. She must be feeling extra vindictive today, high on her impending marriage and the taste of bubbly champagne. “By taking turns with those three? You gotta be kidding me,” she snorts, tipping back her crystal, “please y/n. Don’t get so defensive because I’m getting married first. Your time will come. That is, if you stop dicking around with your friends.”

Normally you’d smother any attempt at Doyeon to call out your friends, but now she’s just done that and insulted your ability to get some, and you are livid.

“Actually,” you quip sharply, “I’ve been dating someone. It’s been a couple months, actually.”

“Oh?” Doyeon’s genuinely interested, face falling slightly, “you’ve never mentioned anyone, I don’t see anyone on your social media.”

“Yeah well,” you feign sympathy, pressing your lips together and tilting your head accordingly, “I’ve had to keep it private for a couple of reasons.”

“What, is he ugly or something?” she chuckles, “but really, who’s the person who has the misfortune of being in a committed relationship with you?”

Maybe it’s because Doyeon’s right, the both of you are too old. The two of you have been running around each other for years, with no end in sight. Maybe, the words that linger on the tip of your tongue will be the final nail in the coffin.

“Jeon Jungkook,” you state proudly, clear as day. “Jungkook and I have been dating for three months.”

And you pick up the vanilla macaron that sits innocently on your plate, ravishing it up like it contained all the tension in your table. Between you and Doyeon’s bubble, you could hear a pin drop.

“Jungkook?” her smile is concrete-solid, “my Jungkook?”

“My Jungkook,” you correct, giving her a puppy-eyed look, “I’m really sorry I never told you. I mean, is there ever a right time to tell your cousin they’re dating their ex-boyfriend?” you laugh, either to lighten the mood or because you love the way Doyeon pinches her face, you don’t know.

“How did you two even meet?”

“We reconnected through Seokjin. You know how the two of them play Starcraft together, I just ended up joining the call and he was so funny and nice. We just sorta… felt it.” Doyeon nods like a slow bobblehead, still comprehending in her pea-sized brain, “I just hope it isn’t too awkward. I know it’s been awhile but, if you really don’t want Jungkook to come I can always take Hoseok or something.”

“No, it’s fine,” Doyeon says a little too quickly, masking on her picture-perfect smile. “I’m with Namjoon now, and I’m totally happy. Water under the bridge, it’ll be totally fine.”

“Really?” your eyes practically sparkle, thankful for the amount of glitter and highlighter you’ve dumped on your face today, “I really appreciate it, Yeonie.”

And she quickly downs her champagne glass, and gets up from her seat. It’s haunting, the way she gets up, pink tulle billowing around her ankles. “I have to attend to the other guests,” she says.

“Of course,” you raise your glass.

“But, be careful,” she gives you a little smile, one filled with a last-ditch attempt at a jab, “Jungkook, he’s a little hard to deal with.”

“Oh don’t worry. I know how to deal with Jungkook’s hardness,” you wink, and Doyeon’s face falls like a ton of bricks.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” you shrug loftily, “that’s what I meant, though.”

And you don’t bother watching Doyeon stomp off the metaphorical stage, double fisting two new glasses of champagne from an awaiting butler as she finds some other poor guest to pick on. Now, the matter of securing your date. Conveniently so, the most important man in the room is walking your way, and you manage to snag his tie just as he passes your table.

“Ow—ow! I’m choking!” Seokjin grabs, nearly throwing his tall body onto your lap, hands grappling to release the tension on his neck. “Leave me alone, woman! I just wanted to get some chicken tenders!”

“Jin,” you say sweetly, opening his blazer to retrieve his phone, “I need Jeon’s number, now.”

“Jungkook?” your favorite cousin pales, eyes widening as you take out your phone of your own, copying down the digits, “what did you do?”

“Don’t ask questions.”

Seokjin says your name again, firmer. “You’re playing with fire.”

“It’ll be fine, it’s the last time,” you quell, already knowing how much Seokjin hates being in the middle of your fights. Once you’ve secured the phone number, you place Seokjin’s phone back into his pocket, patting his breast. “Thank you. You know you’re my favorite cousin, you know that?”

He grumbles a “damn right I am” before stomping away, resuming his race for his chicken tenders.

You: hey jeon it’s y/n. I see you’re doing great, i saw on instagram that you released your first app w/yoongi! Totally amazing, been playing for weeks, really upset that i can’t get past the flaming frog boss :((

You: Feel free to ignore this, i won’t blame you if you do. Im at doyeon’s rehearsal dinner, and she basically snubbed my friends and said i couldn’t get some prime dick even though im?? Me??? Anyway, im tired of her shit so im gonna throw it back at her, one last time before she ties the knot. I told her you and i have been dating, and im bringing you as my date to her wedding. Really sorry, the demons took over my brain and made the worst and best comeback of my life. So… if you’re up for being the hottest couple on the floor in three weeks and showing how madly in love we are, please text me back? Or not. You might think this family is crazy and i accept partial responsibility.

You: I’ll buy u every meal for every practice date we have if u agree.💕💕💕

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: thanks, i appreciate that. To defeat the frog boss, go back to the coconut cave and find the garnet garter. It absorbs his fire and u can easily defeat froggo w any level 15 weapon

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: and as for the real reason u texted me. Im in. let’s get pork belly tomorrow.

Two years ago, you were surprised that Doyeon could manage to snag a man as fine as Jeon Jungkook. Also unsurprised, because Doyeon is gorgeous and could snag any man she wanted, and has snagged every man she wanted.

Jungkook was different though. He had an air of innocence to him. He loved her, a little too much to be safe. Your heart would betray you every time you would find him at a family gathering, making her plate and counting the calories she so meticulously measured. How can someone so sweet be with someone like Doyeon?

Your heart ached for Jungkook when they broke up a year later. From what you heard, Doyeon was Jungkook’s first serious girlfriend. And then you wanted to rip your heart out a week later when you caught Doyeon smooching with her favorite graduate professor Kim Namjoon, wanting to erase any possibility you’d have at love. At that time, you never wanted to feel the pain you imagined Jungkook was going through.

“Y/n! Over here!” you’re a little taken aback at how much has not changed in Jungkook. His eyes still sparkle like fresh dew, his smile is still pearly white and infectious. He’s even early, snagging a table at his favorite barbeque place and waiting for you as if he is the one organizing your first date.

At the same time, there’s so much that’s changed about him. He’s confident, even going so far as to walk over to you and slip your jacket and purse in his grasp like a gentleman. He leads you by putting a hand lightly at the small of your back, making you feel impossibly small in comparison to his Dorito-shaped body, broad shoulders and a deliciously trim waist.

“How was the walk over?”

“Not too bad,” the conversation is casual, easy. You wipe the sweat off your forehead with a napkin. “Could use a little exercise now and again. I did eat a whole tray of macarons at that rehearsal dinner.”

Jungkook laughs from his belly, causing you to smile. “Nonsense. You look great, by the way,” you don’t mind it, actually, you enjoy it when his eyes rake over your body. After all, he’s now your boyfriend and he needs to get familiar with all the important bits. He leans his arms forward, bracing him against the wooden table so his face is closer to yours.

“You’re not doing too bad yourself,” your eyes gloss over the veins and intricate tattoos that paint his muscled upper half. Your smile morphs into a smirk, letting him know you’re enjoying the view just as well as he is.

And as soon as the tension sparks, it ends just as fast when your waiter comes up to light your grill.

“So,” Jungkook wastes no time in decorating your stove, making sure to add all the appropriate aromatics and infusions to season your lunch, “do you know why Doyeon and I broke up?”

“Cheated on you with Namjoon, I assume,” you keep your eyes trained on the darkening meat.

Jungkook slips a piece of meat in his mouth. Any expression of pain (whether it be from Doyeon or the barely cooked meat) doesn’t reveal itself as he stops to take a sip of water. “Who else knows?”

“Just me and Seokjin. The family loved you too much and Doyeon made up some sob story about how you two were going different life paths.”

He chuckles to himself, taking great care in flipping the meat. “I really was a fool in love, wasn’t I?”

“It… was mildly cute.”

“Tell me the truth, you have no reason not to.”

“Okay, you made me want to vomit rainbows and glitter every time I saw you.”

The two of you laugh, faces crinkling shamelessly as the two of you busy yourselves with setting up the table. Most of the food is done and the aroma of fresh onions wafts around your grill. As you place chopsticks on his side of the table, you think about all the times Jungkook made it abundantly clear how much he loved Doyeon: the love letters tucked into her purse, 100 day anniversaries, even just a simple Americano for her in the morning.

“Is that why you never hung out with us?”

“No,” you reply lightly, “Doyeon made it clear that I shouldn’t talk to you.”

Jungkook frowns, “You really don’t like each other, do you.”

You shrug, “Just always been like that,” you quirk a smile when Jungkook places the freshly cooked meat on top of your rice before serving himself.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We go to the wedding, make out a little, get Doyeon boiling. Even if she’s not interested in you, she’d still be upset knowing we are together.”

“And why is that?”

“Because it’s me,” you grin into your glass, staring at a water-stained Jungkook through the blue tinted glass. “And all you have to do, is enjoy your night and look pretty.”

His eyes crinkle, chopsticks pressing between his lips. “You think I look pretty?”

With a roll of eyes you don’t respond, preferring to dig your chopsticks in your rice. No need to inflate Jungkook’s ego too soon.

Pinning the main theme of your hangout to the side, the both of you dig into your meal. You throw conversation back and forth like pebbles, grains of sand that build and build until you’re caught up with each other’s lives. It feels so strange to admit it’s been two years since you’ve spoken to the man, and all of a sudden the once luscious meat feels dry in your mouth.

“Jeon,” you put your chopsticks down, “are you sure you want to do this with me? I mean, I know it’s all my fault and I dragged you into it. Don’t feel obligated to agree to this.”

“I’m a hundred-percent sure,” he doesn’t stop eating, shoving two spoonfuls of rice in his mouth. His cheeks puff up considerably, and your eyes trail down to his neck as he swallows, “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t wanna.”

“Right,” you don’t need a big explanation or a personal confession from Jungkook, just his consent. “Partners, Jeon?” you hold up your glass.

“Partners,” he agrees easily. The smile on his face disarms you, a full-fledged grin decked with pearly whites. Clicking his glass to yours he adds, “And it’s Jungkook, babe.”

Oh, this is going to be interesting.

Seokjin thinks the two of you are the most boring fake-couple.

His eyes dart back and forth between your spot on the couch and his desk, where Jungkook is currently seated. Seokjin is hovered over Jungkook, who’s typing and clicking furiously over his PC game. You’re on your phone, feet pulled up to the coffee table while some old Netflix movie plays in the background. To top it all off both of you didn’t even try to dress like it’s daytime, nearly matching in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie. It doesn’t look like a couple coming to visit Seokin, it looks like Jungkook is playing video games with Seokjin while his cousin hangs around like she owns the place.

“Shouldn’t you guys like, I don’t know, go on dates or something?” Seokjin feels like he’s talking to the air. “Maybe get to know each other before the big day?”

Pulling your phone down to your lap and Jungkook taking off his headphones, the two of you shrug at each other, “No, we’re good.” Jungkook says.

“We know enough,” you agree cooly, “Jungkook likes Valorant.”

“I do like Valorant.”

“He likes pork belly.”

“I do like pork belly.”

“He’s ripped as hell.”

“I am ripped as hell.”

“Okay but have you guys kissed yet?” Seokjin interjects, probably compensating for the nonchalance in the room with his own brand of freaking out. You two only see each other when you’re hanging out at Seokjin’s apartment, and while he’s happy that you two aren’t doing the whole 9-yards and creating an elaborate scheme, the both of you are almost too relaxed. His anxiety is spiking.

“Yes,” Jungkook answers, “at the barbeque place we went to.”

“It was nice," you tack on, "Jin, we got this. Don't worry."

"How can I not worry when you're trying to upset our cousin on her wedding day?" he's sweating in his fully air-conditioned apartment. “I get that she’s the devil’s spawn and everything, but she’s still a human being.”

“In second grade she pushed me on the treadmill because I was going too slow. I got caught on the roller and got a bald spot for two months.”

“Okay yes one bad example—”

“And in senior year she accused me of plagiarizing her essay just because we chose the same topic. I almost didn’t get into college!” Seokjin sighs, crossing his arms. All valid points, and arguing with you isn’t a route he wants to take. “Jin, the point is that she’s constantly pushing my buttons. I’ve always been the bigger person and now that I’m old and confident I just want one jab.”

“That’s valid,” Jungkook pipes up, pressing the spacebar a few times, “I want a jab too, she cheated on me.”

“See? It’s a mutual decision.”

Seokjin asks, “Why aren’t you more worried about this?”

"Because Doyeon isn't going to chew me out on her wedding day," you checked your aunt's seating chart last week and you are far, far away from the bridal table. "We're just going to show off a little bit. Get drunk, eat some bomb steak. Break up in three months or less.”

"You don't have to just convince Doyeon, it's your entire family! Not to mention you also have to go to the bachelor party!"

"Oh I almost forgot," you reach under the couch for your laptop, "Jungkook, in two weekends from now we're flying to Las Vegas for the bachelor party and wedding. I'll buy your ticket now."

"Thanks, babe!” Jungkook sends a cheeky grin to Seokjin, who is unimpressed. “See? I remember to call her babe.”

“Alright, get out of my house,” Seokjin tugs Jungkook away from his computer, causing the younger man to swivel around in his plush gaming chair.

Jungkook frowns at the monitor, “But I’m still bronze one. I’m aiming for silver one by this weekend.”

“Don’t care. As much as I don’t like this plan, I’m not letting you two slip-up.” Seokjin pulls out his phone, revealing Doyeon’s Instagram story, “Doyeon and Namjoon are at the mall buying swimsuits for Vegas. Go to the mall and ‘accidentally’ run into them.”

You sit up straight, tilting your head to the side. “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” you bound over to grab your jacket, giving Seokjin a big fat kiss on his cheek, “Thanks Jinnie, do you know you’re—”

“I’m your favorite cousin. Yeah whatever, bye.” He waves you off, plopping in his own chair so he can enjoy his games in peace.

“I’m driving,” Jungkook declares, swiping your keys from Seokjin’s opal dish.

“Oh, hell no,” you jump on your tippy toes to reach Jungkook’s grasp on your keys, but he’s so freakishly tall there’s no way you can reach. “I drive my car!”

“I’ve always wanted to drive your car back then,” Jungkook cooes, leaning in so your noses touch. “C’mon, you can trust me.”

“You two are gross already,” Seokjin admonishes from the other side of the room, “see, it’s working!”

Poking his cheek so he gives you some space, you whip your head to hide the flush that burns on your cheeks. “Fine, but if you crash you’re buying me a new one.”

“They’re over there,” you hiss between the racks, shuffling between the plastic hangers to point to Doyeon and Namjoon at the women’s section of the store. They look disgustingly adorable together, with Doyeon pointedly telling Namjoon which swimsuit suits his stature better while Namjoon nods along and goes with whatever she says. You crouch down lower, fearing Namjoon’s tall frame would catch you. “Now we just gotta act all couple-y and they’ll notice us. Or maybe we can walk over to them? What do you wanna do?”

“Do you think we should get matching swimsuits?” Jungkook pays no mind to your sleuthing, holding up a red pair of swim trunks to his thighs, “we could pretend to be sexy lifeguards.”

You tilt your head away from the pair, only because Jungkook has been genuinely interested in this store since you’ve arrived. Putting a hand under your chin, you scrutinize the dark red cutoff shorts. “They’re cute,” you nod appreciatively, “It’ll make your thighs look thick.”

Jungkook’s grip on his hanger lowers, and he regards you with dark eyes. “You think my thighs look thick?” he asks, leaning in and putting one hand on the curve of your waist. His fingers dance on the surface of bare skin between your top and jeans, and while you’ve agreed beforehand that you two could touch each other wherever in public, it still surprises you when gooseflesh rises to the surface.

“Easy there, tiger,” you chuckle, putting a hand on his chest to stop his sudden bout of flirting. “I’m just stating the facts, we get it. You lift.”

“You’re so cute when you try to put your guard up,” he’s brushing noses with you now, and you feel the plastic of the hanger crumple pathetically between you two as the gap closes further. “But you can’t hide from me.”

And just as his lips move to press against yours, a shrill “Jungkook!” echoes throughout the large store.

You nearly flop over the boardshorts rack if not for Jungkook’s arms secured around your waist. Oh right, you think dumbly, this is all for show. Doyeon and Namjoon are right in front of you, purchases already made and looking at you two in curiosity. Well, Namjoon is definitely curious, because you know for a fact that Doyeon speaks very little of you to him and you’ve only conversed with him a handful of times. Doyeon on the other hand, looks a little stiff in the grin.

“Hello to you too,” you remark to Doyeon, who’s barely acknowledged you. You reach over to squeeze Namjoon’s arm, “Hi Joonie,” you crinkle your eyes, and you fight back a squeal when he smiles back with dimples. Doyeon has such a cute fiancé, and if you’re keeping score he’s way too good for her.

Doyeon’s eyes glaze over to where you’ve touched Namjoon, and she links her arms with his. “What a coincidence, you two are buying swimsuits where we’re buying swimsuits.”

“Well, there’s only one mall in this town and we’re going on the same trip in two weeks,” you reply blandly, and you feel Jungkook pinch your side. “Oh, Namjoon. Have you met my boyfriend Jungkook?”

“Can’t say that I have,” Namjoon reaches over to clasp Jungkook’s hand, “nice to meet you, man.”

While Namjoon and Jungkook exchange small talk, you pointedly ignore the waves of negativity Doyeon sends your way in favor of observing the two large men. Namjoon just said it was nice to meet him, therefore he has no clue who Jungkook is. Interesting, considering Doyeon two-timed in favor of Namjoon. It gets you a little antsy, and you wonder if Namjoon is faking this whole interaction or if Doyeon is hiding something.

“Baby,” Jungkook rests a hand on your shoulder, regarding you with concern, “you spaced out there, are you okay?”

“She’s like that, Jungkookie,” Jungkook gently presses your shoulders down, blocking your view of Doyeon as she regards your not-boyfriend as Jungkookie. “My cousin’s a bit of an airhead,” her tone is sweet and jesting, the backhanded jab going right above Namjoon’s head.

“I’m just hungry,” you say, forcing a tight-lipped smile.

“Well, that’s perfect,” Namjoon clasps his hands together, “Yeonie and I were just about to go grab some dinner. Why don’t you join us?”

Doyeon and you both reply immediately, “That really isn’t necessary—”

“Nonsense,” you don’t even have the heart to be upset at Namjoon because he looks so damn genuine, “It’s been two years and I haven’t even bought you a meal, y/n. After all, we’re going to be family at the end of the month.”

“Right,” you answer reluctantly.

“We’re gonna make reservations at the Cheesecake Factory,” he pulls out his phone, ready to make a call, “but you and Jungkook can finish shopping, okay? The wait will be a little long but by the time you’re done our table should be ready.”

You and Jungkook wave off Doyeon and Namjoon as they make their way to the restaurant. Your hand is caught in the air by Jungkook, who regards you with worry in his eyes. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you looked spaced out,” he says, “tell me what you were really thinking.”

Subconsciously, you squeeze his palm for comfort. “I don’t know, it just feels weird knowing Namjoon doesn’t seem to know you at all. Normally Doyeon loves to talk shit about her exes.”

Jungkook scoffs easily, “I mean, if she’s marrying the guy I’m sure she doesn’t want to let him know the details of how they ended up together.”

“True,” you decide to let it go, and follow Jungkook to the register to pay for his swim trunks.

“So,” the little ‘ding’ of the register opens up the money box, and Jungkook quickly hands the clerk his cash, “we’re having dinner with them after this?”

“Only if you want to.”

“We need to, right?” Jungkook thanks the clerk, holding the bag in one hand and threading his fingers through yours as you head out the store.

“Well, do you want to?” you ask again. Jungkook stops the two of you on the sidewalk. It isn’t a fast stop, but a slow down that makes his walk a little more thicker, more deliberate as he trudges you down the lane. You move in front of him, clutching your hands between his. “Are you okay? You barely even acknowledged Doyeon.”

“I’m fine,” you flinch at his harsh tone, and he immediately moves to remedy it by squeezing your hand back. “I’m sorry. It’s just been awhile and I’m definitely over her but,” he bows his head, feeling embarrassed, “she hurt me, you know?”

Going into this is definitely one of the more selfish plans you’ve put your mind to. Your heart pangs thinking about what must be going through everytime he sees her. If he’s reminded about all the good times they shared, or how much he’s over thought every single conversation he’s had with her up until this point.

“Of course,” you completely understand, knowing from the beginning that this whole mess would end up with some dicey feelings someway or another. “I’m just thankful you chose to stick by me. And we can talk about it if you’re comfortable,” both of you being victims of Doyeon’s brand of torture, you hope the two of you can at least be friends after all of this is over, “we don’t have to go have dinner with them.”

“But, Namjoon got us a table—”

“Namjoon will be fine. We can always have dinner with him another time,” you smile softly, “what matters is that you’re okay.”

His gaze melts, and you feel his grip loosen in your hold. He regards you with weak eyes, betraying the confidence he held himself to moments before. “Thanks, y/n,” he says, “I really appreciate that.”

“Anytime,” you reply honestly. “We can go to Cheesecake and order to-go. I can make some excuse about how my stomach hurts and that we should do a raincheck.”

“Sounds good.”

“Do you wanna eat at one of our places or eat at the park or something?” you’re already pulling up your phone, checking out the menu. “We could invite Jin too.”

“The park sounds nice,” neither of you acknowledge the fact that you’re not inviting Seokjin, and for some reason that’s okay.

“Yeah,” you agree simply, “the weather’s beautiful.”

Under any normal circumstances, you would’ve been friends with someone like Jeon Jungkook, easily. A little part of you wishes that you could’ve met Jungkook first, but Doyeon has better connections than you and always had a good crowd around despite her inner motivations. No awkward exchange happens when you suggest to Jungkook to eat together. Even though you’re not technically dating, the two of you know that eating together is better than eating alone.

And you have to admit Jungkook’s great company. The two of you drive to a reserve nearby, overlooking a tiny lake. Instead of a fancy Italian tablecloth the two of you move your car seats down and set a spare picnic blanket in the trunk. Instead of a candlelit dinner the two of you find some emergency electric tealights in the glove compartment, lighting it up between you two as you dig into your to-go boxes.

You’re a little envious that so much time has passed by. You could’ve been a little sneakier and made a better effort to communicate with Jungkook when you saw him regularly at family parties, and maybe you two would have a better friendship today. Nevertheless, the two of you mesh like peanut butter and jelly, exchanging conversation that has your cheeks sore from smiling too hard.

By the time you get to dessert, the moon is out and the stars are floating above your heads. The two of you are at war, fighting with your forks over the last strawberry in your cheesecake slice. After some careful stabbing Jungkook manages to nab it with his fork.

He almost puts it in his mouth, but instead swipes up some whipped cream to press the last strawberry to your lips.

“I think it’s working,” Jungkook says randomly as you chew the sweet fruit, “you could see it on Doyeon’s face today. She’s unsettled.”

“Yeah,” you agree, lying down on the lavender gingham picnic blanket.

“Do you know why she fights with you all the time?”

“That’s a question I’ve been asking myself since the dawn of time.”

“I think I know why.” Jungkook looks down at you with his large doe eyes, licking innocently on a spoon of whipped cream.

“Pray tell.”

“She’s jealous of you.”

“No,” you disagree easily, “she’s jealous that I have you.”

“Bzzt! Wrong,” Jungkook puts his empty container in your makeshift trash can, falling beside you and knitting his hands under his head. You have a little window on the roof of your car, so both of you are able to stare at the navy sky, “she’s always been jealous of you. Think about it. The two of you have similar lifestyles: same career path, confidence, taste, education. But even after all of that? People still like you more.”

You scoff, hands immediately reaching to fiddle with the frayed corner of fabric next to your fingers. “I don’t think so.”

“I’ve met all of Doyeon’s friends,” he informs you, “they’re weird. Like yeah, they care about each other on the surface level. But they’re nothing of substance. They’re not like your friends.”

“Please, Doyeon has everything she could ever want,” you don’t know what kind of complex you have supporting Doyeon’s life, but something deep and insecure wants to separate you two as far away from each other as possible. “Like… she’s Malibu Barbie and I’m Polly Pocket.”

Jungkook turns to face you, resting his head between his palm and leaning on his elbow. “Do you not think you’re beautiful?”

“Yeah, but compared to Doyeon—”

“You’ve always been beautiful to me, don’t you know that?”

You choke on your saliva, feeling small and skittish at the implication behind his words. It’s been two years. You’ve only been friends for two weeks. How can he possibly say that?

“I uh, saw you once,” Jungkook coughs, and you watch the way his pale cheeks unmatch the moon and instead flit to a crimson hue, “we were at some party and you were wearing this really cute black dress with a white bow in the middle. Doesn’t even matter what party because it was random, y’know? I was gonna go talk to you but Doyeon got to me first and well, the rest is history.” He breaks eye contact with you, unable to handle it.

You remember that party, vaguely. It was random, some sort of poetry slam in a shady part of town. Doyeon and you didn’t even go with each other, you were with Taehyung and she just happened to stumble in there from another nearby party. You didn’t even know Jungkook was there that night, or how you were a hair's breadth away from meeting him before Doyeon.

“Don’t ever think you’re lesser than her just because out of all the people she chose to pick on, she chose you. It’s why she never lets you get to know her boyfriends. She’s threatened by you because you’re just as special,” something low sparks in your chest at his words, “and now that you’ve finally decided to stoop to her level and fight back with a taste of her own medicine, she doesn’t know what to do.”

Feeling like your body is on a beach and you’re sinking in sand, you soften over your picnic blanket, mulling it over. “Did I make the right choice? Stooping down to her level.” Your voice is quiet, comparable to the chirping birds and buzzing gnats outside.

“We won’t know until after the wedding,” Jungkook answers honestly, “but I do know I’m sticking with you until the end. We’re friends now, got that? You have no excuse to ignore me anymore.”

You don’t want to ignore Jungkook, never in a million years. Now you know that you are envious of Doyeon, for having an opportunity to love and care for an amazing person like him. So in a sudden bout of emotion, you roll over to straddle Jungkook’s waist.

He’s shocked, hands flying to your waist to make sure you don’t wobble off. But you’re determined, and lean down to press your lips against his. He tastes like cheesecake and strawberries, the taste melding with your own as you relish in the feeling of his soft lips against yours. You melt a little when he squeaks, breaking into a soft moan as he reciprocates the gesture. He’s warm and large and he makes you feel safe. Once your brain returns to your body, you break for air. You only pull back a few centimeters, and there’s no way for you to get off because Jungkook has locked you in place.

“What was that for?” he asks breathlessly.

“Don’t know,” you’re whispering against his lips, unable to pull away, “just felt like we needed a little more practice.”

He blinks, before relaxing in a silly smile. “I agree,” he says simply, dipping you on your back so he can be on top the second time around.

“We’re in Vegas, baby!”

Every single terrible comedy movie set in Las Vegas has brought you to this very moment. You’ve always wanted to say that line. Dumping your luggage next to Jungkook’s, you flop on the nearest mattress. Thank goodness you only wore leggings and a t-shirt on the flight, it’s the optimal sleeping outfit after a long day. Feeling something hard and plastic dig into your brain, you hold up the culprit and squeal excitedly. “Look, Kook!” you wave the crinkly confection in your hands, “they put mints on the pillows!”

Despite your room being a square with two queen beds, the hotel does not skimp on quality. The decor is ornate, the white and gold trim on the doorknobs and metal appliances shimmering beautifully. The beds feel like clouds, as you try to imagine what a cloud could possibly feel like, this is it.

Jungkook immediately follows suit, ripping off his outer clothes until he’s left in his undershirt and boxers, flopping next to you on the mattress. He immediately opens his mouth when you shoot a mint, catching it easily. “I feel like we’re in a deleted scene of Crazy Rich Asians,” he says, letting the hard mint clink around his teeth, “is this the part where you tell me your family comes from old money and I’m gonna be your sugar baby?”

“Don’t be so hopeful,” you narrow your eyes, booping his button nose with your finger.

“I’m just saying, the first class flight threw me off.”

You giggle, slapping his chest, “No. If that was true, we wouldn’t be sharing a room with my cousin. Sorry you have to share the bed with me, I got the hotel with Jin and he doesn’t want to sleep with you.”

“S’okay,” Jungkook replies softly, leaning closer to make grabby hands at you, “you’re softer.”

Tentatively, you scooch over so you can lean on Jungkook’s chest. You two have a little time before Doyeon and Namjoon’s combined bachelor and bachelorette party. The past two weeks have been nice—scratch that, the past two weeks with Jungkook have been wonderful. You never cared to measure how much time passed before meeting him, but now that you’ve begun fake-dating, time is the only thing you regard. You’re already beginning to miss him, knowing that in a week, this whole arrangement will be over.

Well, not exactly over. Jungkook says you’ll remain friends after this, but you don’t really want that. You want more, and it scares you to think he may not feel the same.

But right now you’re snuggling like an old couple, sleeping comfortably between pillow-like sheets and minty breath. Your pretend boyfriend, now your pretend boyfriend with benefits, looks soft and huggable and you want to bottle up this moment forever. You say benefits because, well, the cuddling is an added bonus. Practice practice practice, Jungkook sing songs the words you used that one night under the stars, excuses to seal his lips to your lips. You’ll never argue with that. So when Jungkook’s hand tightens around your waist and pulls you closer, you relent.

One second, you’re closing your eyes and the next, you’re waking up to Seokin’s wide eyes staring back at you.

“Eep, you creepo!” you shriek, scrambling away from him. That’s when you realize Jungkook’s missing from bed, the scent of his laundry detergent lingering between the eggshell Egyptian cotton.

“Jungkook’s in the shower,” Seokjin immediately reads your mind, pulling away so he can unpack his luggage. “My flight just got in two hours ago, you both were out like a light when I arrived.”

“Ugh, I’m really not ready to party.”

“Doyeon just texted the family group chat. She reserved the rooftop, the party starts in an hour,” he talks mindlessly, rifling through his stuff. Seokjin is fiddling with his clothes, despite the fact that you know Seokjin prepares his outfits days in advance so he doesn’t have to choose. He looks concerned, pulling out a flamingo pink boardshort and setting it down on his mattress. Finally he says, “I’m worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because. It’s clear that you’re starting to fall for Jungkook.”

The words strike you straight in the place you’re trying to avoid. You’ve been living in a fantasy these past two weeks, thinly veiled by the whole reason you two are together in the first place. Doyeon’s wedding is just around the corner, and what then?

“I’m not saying that he doesn’t feel anything for you either,” that gets your heart skipping a beat, and you secretly hold a hand to your chest under the blankets, “but do you really want to start off a relationship like this? A relationship all messy and morally objective because it’s built on revenge?”

“Don’t worry about me,” the words easily fall from your lips, “I can take care of this.”

“I hate it when you say that,” the words are curt and harsh against Seokjin’s plush lips, “I’m allowed to worry about you, y/n. You know why? Because, because you’re my favorite cousin too,” he bites his lip, walking over so he sits on your side of the bed. “So don’t tell me what I can and can’t worry about. I want you to be happy, I want you to stop holding in this anger you have for Doyeon and move on.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, leaning over to press your cheek against Seokjin’s shoulder. “You’re right.”

“For the first time in a long time, you’ve finally decided to lean on someone,” and both of you know who that someone is. “I don’t want you to lose him over some petty family issue. You should tell him how you feel.”

“I will,” you wrap your arms around your cousin’s slim waist in a silent thanks.

“Am I interrupting a tender family moment?”

The two of you pull away to stare at Jungkook, leaning against the doorframe that leads to the bathroom. He’s in a plain white t-shirt and the red board shorts that you bought at the mall, cutting off mid-thigh and revealing the bulky muscle underneath. You were right, the shorts do make his thighs look thick.

Seokjin groans exaggeratedly. “Yes, yes you did.”

Jungkook immediately goes to replace Seokjin’s spot, and some stray droplets fall fresh from the shower due to his slicked-back hair. “Do you wanna get ready? First party’s soon.”

“Not really,” you admit, “you’re gonna meet the family all over again.”

“Second time’s the charm,” he winked, “I’ve already met your parents and everything. Not feeling nervous at all.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really,” and the facade cools down a little, “well, maybe a little nervous for your Aunt Lillian. Her stares give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you from Aunt Lillian.”

“God the two of you get worse every day,” Seokjin has magically changed into his shorts, tucking himself into the bed, “don’t wake me up until we pre-game.”

Doyeon and Namjoon don’t skimp on the festivities, although in taste the ideas are Doyeon’s in its entirety. It’s lavish and colorful, with a beautiful infinity pool in the middle decorated with lavender and pink headlights. There’s a buffet table overflowing with tasty food. There’s petal pink champagne overflowing from fountains, decorated with fresh strawberries bobbing around the fizzy drink.

“I don’t know,” Namjoon and Jungkook have been talking for well over an hour, and it’s clear how well they mesh together. Heck, you’ve accepted that Jungkook may like Namjoon more than he likes you. Jungkook’s eyes sparkle as Namjoon discusses the various genres of rap and hip-hop music, explaining the potency of mature themes in a young community, “but I will say music is like another language, knows no boundaries when it comes to sending their messages to others.”

You fight the urge to chuckle when Jungkook sighs dreamily at the music theory professor. “Wow, that’s so deep.”

Getting up from your cabana, you nudge Seokjin, who’s currently flirting it up with one of Doyeon’s bridesmaids. “Hey, wanna get a drink?” you ask, throwing your wrap on the cushions to reveal your strappy red bikini.

“And chicken tenders,” Seokjin presses a kiss to the bridesmaid’s cheek, bidding her goodbye as he follows you out of the shaded area.

“Do you two lovebirds want anything?” you stare pointedly at Namjoon and Jungkook. While Namjoon’s eyes stay in contact with you, you can’t help but smile a little more when Jungkook has a hard time keeping his gaze in one place.

“I think we’re fine,” Namjoon answers for both of them, swirling his beer bottle. “I’ll meet you two at the bar once I’m done.”

“Sure thing,” Seokjin puts a hand on your back to lead you to one of the open bars. As much as you like being in a handsome hotel with money to burn, nothing beats the fact that your entire family is here to celebrate. The elders have corroborated two cabanas for poker and other games, while your younger cousins are playing ping pong and air hockey on the other side.

“Namjoon sure is a dreamboat,” Seokjin bemoans, handing you an electric orange drink. You take a sip of it, and bug out when you realize it tastes nothing like alcohol. You’re definitely in for a night. “Like I can hear him wax music thingamajib any day.”

“I thought you were into that bridesmaid.”

“A mere diversion,” he sighs, leaning his tanned arms against the bar, “can’t ignore the deep voice Namjoon has, it’s intoxicating.”

“I’m sure Jungkook would agree,” you egg on.

“What are you two talking about?” you straighten up when the man of the hour shows up at the bar, absolutely glowing under the sunset. He orders a round for the three of you, and you immediately chug your own drink to get to the next one.

“Talking about how you’re stealing Jungkook away from me,” you joke, accepting another fruity drink from Namjoon. Damn, this stuff tastes like candy.

“Oh, never,” Namjoon replies brightly, waving the thought away, “do you see the way he looks at you? Hopelessly in love.”

Maybe it’s the copious amounts of alcohol, but you feel your stomach flip-flop at the thought of love. You’ve always known what love felt like, the warmth of Namjoon’s cheeks whenever he sees Doyeon, when your mom takes care of you when you’re sick, when Seokjin makes sure you’re not emotionally constipated 24/7. But the thought of Jungkook and you in love? It’s a feeling you secretly yearn for.

“Right? It’s disgusting,” Seokjin groans with an eye roll, “like, Jungkook wasn’t like that with Doyeon at all when they were together.”

The slip up has the three of you choking on your own thoughts, staring at each other like the three have just been told you’re on a prank show. But it is no prank, and you look at Seokjin who’s absolutely horrified.

“Oh shit,” he squeaks, looking at Namjoon guiltily, “did I say something I shouldn’t have said?”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon replies coolly, “did you?”

The ominous response gets you going, and you quickly place a hand on Namjoon’s arm, placating him. “They dated, yes. But it was only for a short time and we’ve sorted everything out. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Oh,” Namjoon quirks his head, and regards you two with pursed lips. “I’m not one of those guys who freak out over other people’s exes. I’m just surprised that I’ve only heard this now,” Namjoon takes a slow sip of his drink, and despite your drink also being cold and refreshing, you’re absolutely sweating.

“Well, I’m sure Doyeon didn’t want to worry you.”

At the mention of his future wife, he beams. “You’re right, she’s considerate like that,” and the conversation ends just like that. He holds up his drink to the two of you, and you and Seokjin do the same. With a sharp clink he leaves you two to mull, happily conversing with the next round of guests he needs to entertain for the week.

“That guy is too nice for his own good,” you shake your head, asking the bartender for your third drink within ten minutes.

Seokjin leans over you and warbles, “So you’re telling me that Namjoon has no idea that Doyeon cheated on Jungkook in order to date him?” he’s sweating just like you are, following suit to your actions and asking to make his drink a double.

“I don’t know,” you bite your lip, your teeth worrying the dark skin, “I’ve been thinking about it for a while though. I just don’t want to get involved, you know?”

“But this is different!”

“But Doyeon’s family!”

“And all of a sudden you care about Doyeon’s feelings?” Seokjin gripes back, “it’s not about Doyeon, it’s about the both of them. And if we know something that Namjoon doesn’t, wouldn’t it be in our best interests to warn him before he seals a marriage deal that costs him over a zillion dollars?” he gestures to the extravagant wedding party.

“But we don’t even have any proof that’s the case,” you frown, “Doyeon could have changed—a little, not a lot—since meeting Namjoon, maybe she thinks it’s best to reveal as little as possible.”

Seokjin wonders what kind of family he has. One as chaotic as his takes a lot to stomach, and Seokjin likes to pride himself in his strong appetite. “Fine, let’s just keep a close eye on both of them this week. And if anything remotely fishy happens, we strike.”

“Deal.”

You return to the cabana alone, with a plate of fries for both you and Jungkook. Jungkook is also alone, laying on the lounge chair with his eyes closed. It gives you a chance to ogle your fake-boyfriend a little bit, reveling in the sight of his toned body.

Setting down your plate with a sharp rap of the glass, Jungkook opens one eye. “Hey,” he smiles, drinking in your muted expression, “you okay?”

Damn Jungkook for being able to read you so well. “I think so. It’s nothing, really.”

“Well, will you tell me if it’s something?”

“Yeah, I will.”

“So, I do have something to tell you though.” Jungkook sits up, regarding you wearily. “Can you… stand in front of me?” Confused, you shove a fry in your mouth and walk up to him as directed, your back blocking the entrance as you stand in front of him. “Okay, come closer. Now bend down,” you bend your back 90 degrees, and he presses a hand to your shoulder to stop you, “no, no. With your breasts out, just a little—there! Arch your back. Like you’re doing the Sorority Squat.”

“Excuse me—”

“The music isn’t even that loud,” he mutters to himself, “no one would need to push their boobs in my face to hear me.”

“Jungkook, is someone pressing boobs to your face?”

“Why,” he breaks into a playful grin, “jealous?”

“Not if it’s Aunt Lillian.”

“Unfortunately it wasn’t,” he twiddles with the drawstrings of his shorts. “It was Doyeon.”

Doyeon? She didn’t walk by your cabana all day. Heck, she barely greeted you when you arrived with Jungkook. But when Jungkook’s alone is when she decides to pounce? And with what motive?

“I don’t know,” he’s rambling to himself, “maybe I’m overthinking it. It was only half a second.”

“Jungkook, I have something to tell you,” you say instead, panic in your features.

“Is it something urgent?”

“Well, no but—”

“Then tell me when we get back to the room,” Jungkook easily pulls you onto his lap, and you instantly heat up when you feel your bare butt press against Jungkook’s golden thighs. “Like you said, we’re in Vegas. Let’s have fun while we can.”

“Okay,” you tuck your head between his neck and collarbone, reaching to press a kiss to his smooth jawline.

Relaxing against the plush lounge chair Jungkook feeds you fries while talking about the things he wants to do this week. It’s his first time in Vegas and he wants to make the most of it. He wants to visit all the buffets he sees on Buzzfeed compilations, relax at the pool, maybe catch a show. The thought of spending all week with him and your family is nice, and suddenly you don’t feel so awkward sitting on his lap, and eventually he pulls you between his thighs so you can lay on his chest.

“And between you and me,” he fake whispers against the shell of your ear, as if he’s telling you the biggest secret, “we’re the hottest couple here.”

The next three days leading up to the wedding are relatively uninteresting.

Uninteresting in the best way possible. On Monday you and Jungkook spend time with your little cousins, taking them to The Adventuredome, one of the resort's indoor theme parks. On Tuesday you and Jungkook go shopping at the outlet malls with your parents, blowing hundreds of dollars on cheap Levis that have your luggage bursting with a new wardrobe. In between all of that Seokjin and occasionally Namjoon joins you two in your buffet journey, hitting up the top spots and filling your tummies to the brim with delicious food.

On Wednesday, Jungkook brandishes two gold-foiled tickets in front of you, waving them around like a fan. With one finger, he pushes away your Pokémon battle, “I got us tickets to Cirque du Soleil,” he announces proudly, “waited in line for an hour.”

You gape, scrambling off of your bed and throwing your Nintendo Switch to the side. “Jungkook,” you marvel, “these are so expensive. How’d you manage to get a show for tonight?”

He shrugs, “Looked around.”

“You’ve been impulse buying a lot this week,” you tease, “like really, you don’t need three pairs of the same ripped jeans.”

“This wasn’t an impulse buy,” he says, “I’ve been looking around for shows. Just managed to pick them up today, so go get dressed for our date.”

Did Jungkook just call it a date? Giddy with excitement you throw the covers off, running into the bathroom to get ready. What a surprise, you didn’t think Jungkook would be into spontaneous things like this.

Seokjin left the bathroom open, so when you walk in the room it is steamy and warm. Your dear cousin is still in the shower, probably waiting for his conditioner to pass three minutes of set-in time.

“What are you getting ready for?” Seokjin asks over the rain shower.

“Kook got us tickets to Cirque du Soleil,” you chirp happily, looking through your skin care products.

“I wanna come!”

“Nope! Jungkook called it a date.”

“Oh, a date,” Seokjin drawls, putting his head under the water to rinse his hair clean. “Well then, should I vacate the room for tonight?”

“What, no!” you’ve closed the door, so thankfully Jungkook can’t hear you talking about him. “We’re not doing anything. We’re just two friends who are fake-dating going on a date.”

“Sounds like a real date, though,” Seokjin wraps a towel around himself to cover all his important bits before getting out of the shower, bumping elbows with you so he can brush his teeth. “Either way, I’ll be gone tonight. It’s my turn to watch the baby cousins. Don’t have too much fun while I'm in their room watching Despicable Me for the millionth time.”

“We’ll be sure to stop by with some pizza or something,” you tease, a little wiggle in your hips when you vacate the bathroom.

By the time you and Jungkook are ready, you two are dressed impeccably. Jungkook is wearing one of the ripped black jeans he bought on Tuesday, combined with a white button up and black blazer. A classic outfit with a little bit of Jungkook-themed flair. And to Jungkook’s surprise, you’re wearing the dress that he first saw you in, all those years ago. You’ve gained a little weight since college, but you still fill out the little black dress beautifully, the little white bow in the middle adding a simple yet adorable touch. It took a little sleuthing and searching through your old college clothes, but you were determined to find it when Jungkook reminded you how much you love the design.

Clearly from the way Jungkook is currently gaping at you like a bloated fish, he loves it too.

The show is beautiful and colorful, leaving you speechless and in tears by the end of it. Jungkook lets you hold his hand the entire time, feeling a bout of anxiety anytime the acrobats fall gracefully despite the large height.

Overall, it was a wonderful show, paired with your equally enamouring date. It’s getting harder and harder to distinguish what’s fake and what’s real in your heart, and throughout the night you’re sorely reminded that you should tell Jungkook how you feel.

But by the time you get to the room your parents are calling you, asking to get their suit and dresses out of the car so hotel service can do a last minute press and dry clean.

“I’ll be back,” you say to Jungkook, “I need to go get their clothes out of the car. They’re always so forgetful.”

“Want me to come?” he offers, hand shying away from inserting the keycard in.

“No, I’ll only be fifteen minutes, tops.”

“So I guess this is this the part where I get a goodnight kiss?” he asks cheekily, leaning on his heels so his tall frame reaches yours. You don’t hesitate to give a short peck to his pretty pink lips. He pouts at the brevity, “that was too quick.”

“Go inside,” you insist, “the sooner you get ready for bed the sooner I can get ready for bed.”

“Then more kisses?”

“Then more kisses.”

Jungkook breaks into an all-teeth smile, unable to control himself when he dips down and steals a longer, more lingering kiss to your lips. “I had a great time tonight,” he says, mimicking every single teenage rom-com protagonist who’s deeply in love with the popular jock. “Don’t take too long, okay?”

You nod, pushing him inside, “C’mon, if you stopped talking I’d be back by now!”

Once the door closes shut, you let yourself do a little dance in the hallway, wiggling your butt and giving yourself a mini-celebration. You quickly text your group chat that you just came back from the Cirque show.

Jimin: what, a date with your fake date?

Hobi: jeon jungcock? 👀👀

Jimin: whaaaaaattttt. U’ve gotta have sat in his lap at least. 3 times since you’ve started this ting

Hobi: i’ve heard things in college…

Taehyung: u are all gross and i hate u

Taehyung: but so am i bc im very curious

Just as you’re about to send a heated reply, the elevator dings, revealing a pissed off Doyeon. She’s bare-faced, in a fluffy lilac bath robe and matching puff ball slippers. You slip in right beside her, making sure there’s a comfortable amount of space between you two.

“You’re going to the parking garage too?” you ask, eyes lingering on the lit button.

“Yeah,” she’s looking at her phone, a few stray hairs from her mahogany bun falling onto her forehead, “Aunt Lillian left her medication in the car. I don’t know why she has to send me, I’m busy getting married.”

“My parents left their formal clothes in the car,” you shrug, “you know, my parents and Aunt Lillian share the same brain cell. Gotta help them out once in a while.”

The icy silence in the elevator is probably the calmest you and Doyeon have been since you’ve announced your relationship status with Jungkook. You fight the sigh, opting to take out your phone and open some unread messages.

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: hurry up, the bed’s cold without u

You: lool, why do u look constipated

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: because i am, hurry up. Im bringing ur switch to the toilet and playing on your profile

You: JEON WAIT YAMPERS AT 5HP GO TO THE POKEMON CENTER U HEATHEN

You tilt your head a centimeter, feeling Doyeon breathing down your neck like Puff the Magic Dragon. You look at her with wide eyes. Her long, slender neck manages to snake its way next to your head, “Can I help you?” you ask amusedly, clutching your phone to your chest.

“Are you two really together?” she asks, batting her lashes. All this week she’s left you alone, and you’ve been wondering when she’s going to make herself known. It’s a little self-absorbed you have to admit, but ever since Namjoon’s ignorance to Doyeon’s previous relationship, you’ve been on edge.

“Of course we are,” you spit back, “I love him.”

And you must be very convincing, because Doyeon’s gaze falters just a fraction. You glare at her, staking your claim. Ever since Jungkook told you the reason Doyeon hates you is because she’s jealous, you’ve started to feel a bit of sympathy for her. Doyeon is beautiful and smart, she has no reason to feel this way. But the brain holds fickle thoughts sometimes, bringing darkness to the mind.

“He loved me first,” she bites back, lifting her chin.

“And why do you care?” you laugh tonelessly. The elevator dings open, and you’re met with the open air and concrete of the parking garage. “He may have loved you first, but he’ll love me last.”

You leave the elevator first, a little pep in your step as you make your way to the rental car to gather your parent’s things. While the words you uttered are white in nature and may not hold any sort of weight to them, it manages to bring Doyeon to her knees, absolutely quaking in the elevator.

You’re tasting revenge, and it’s sweet.

“Okay, you need to leave,” Seokjin pulls away the shot glass from your lips, “I didn’t spend days planning the itinerary for you to mess it up. Bridal party in Doyeon’s suite and the groom’s party in Namjoon’s parents suite.”

“That’s dumb,” you chastise, crossing your arms, “we’re all meeting at the same club at 10. Why can’t we pre-party together?”

“Because it’s tradition!”

“Screw tradition,” you stumble on your heels as you purse your lips at Jungkook, “Kook, when we get married I don’t wanna do a whole boy-and-girl party. We’re equals, right?”

“Of course, baby,” he cooes, being careful not to smudge your makeup when he presses his lips to the crown of your head. “But for the sake of Seokjin’s sanity, you should probably go to Doyeon’s. It’ll only be an hour or two.”

You gasp exaggeratedly at the blatant betrayal. He only grins cheekily in response, dipping down to press a wet kiss to your cheek. “Fine,” you cross your arms, snatching back your drink from Seokjin’s grasp to knock it down.

Leaving the bachelor pre-party pains you considerably. They’re having such a good time joking around the suite, telling each other fun stories and relaxing in chairs as they watch TV. This is your kind of crowd, not to mention that you can peacefully check out Jungkook’s ass in those tight dress pants without any crazy club lights distorting your vision.

From past family party experience you already have a feeling what’s coming for you in the ladies’ suite.

Loud music pours from Doyeon’s suite, and it’s completely unlocked. The bridal party is raving, ten seconds away from being completely drunk and immobile. The lights are being manually shut on and off like some sort of cheap rager, and you have to tell Yoojung to tone it down before you get a seizure.

The stench of acidic drinks and the tang of alcoholic air is palpable, and instead of a shot you opt for a glass of peach champagne to slow you down.

As you walk deeper into the suite, you notice a crowd forming by the balcony. Tapping your cousin Nari on the shoulder, you regard her with a hug and kiss. “What’s going on over there?” you ask, heels not helping you see any better.

Nari’s all blushy and pink, hiccuping as she gestures to the balcony. “Her maid of honor got Doyeon a very special gift!”

Managing to weave through the women blocking your view, you fight the urge to gag when you have a clear view of the scene in front of you.

You really don’t understand the purpose of bachelor and bachelorette parties. “One night to be single all over again!” they all say, even though they’re not actually single? Like why does the couple suddenly get one night of forgiveness when you’ve already spent years being in a committed relationship?

Why is it okay that Doyeon’s dry humping a stripper on the balcony? Her white silk dress is ruched dangerously high, soon close to flashing her family. Aunties and friends and the like are cheering her on, and she flips her head perfectly to all the phones shoved in their faces, making sure to get the perfect angle.

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you turn back in the hopes that your other family members would be willing to have a good old-fashioned tip back with you.

You squeal when your hands accidentally land on a bare, oiled chest. You look up, mortified at the large man covered in black harnesses. “Hey babe, I’m Wonho,” he says, faking a sultry gaze as he looks at you up and down, “you’re part of the bridal party too? Wanna dance?”

Feeling naked, you push past him, careful not to get anything on your dress. Wonho? Wonno.

Jungkook loves your family.

(Except Doyeon.)

As much as he told you not to worry about him, and he’ll be completely fine when he meets your family, he couldn’t help be a little wary on the flight over. After all, it’s been two years and he didn’t know how things would be different.

Chaoticism and all, your family is a thing to be cherished. Even though Yoongi has been on mood swings that make Jungkook question his sanity from time to time, and Seokjin is secretly breathing down Jungkook’s back every time he so glances at you, he thinks things are right where they should be.

But despite all that they regarded him with familiarity, hugged and kissed him like old friends, something is different. They’ve turned over a new page for him. They don’t bring up Doyeon. They ask about his family, his job, his life in the city. They ask about how you and Jungkook met, and how happy they are for you. How happy they are for him.

Oh, how he wishes everything could be different. In another world, you two would already be together.

He wasn’t lying back at the cabana when he said you two are the hottest couple at the resort, including the bridal party (but don’t tell Namjoon). You look absolutely stunning in your sparkly red dress, accentuating all the right parts and lighting up the whole room.

When he finds you in the club you’re sitting down with your Aunties, keeping the elders company while the younger ones are flagging down the bartenders. He thinks it’s cute, how well you fit in between them, coddling you like you’re still a child in their eyes.

“Dear, your boyfriend is here!” your one Aunt yells over the loud EDM.

You lift your head up quickly, giving him the prettiest smile. Your teeth glow purple under the neon lights, and he fights the urge to laugh when he holds out a hand. “Mind if I steal her from you?”

“Of course, she’s gotta live a little!”

You pout, a little wobbly but nevertheless still in the right mind as you shuffle out of the booth to meet his awaiting arms. “Hey handsome,” your voice is thick and sweet-smelling, “come here often?”

“Only when my girlfriend does,” he replies cheekily, hands immediately coming to your butt to smooth out your dress. He shys a bit when your Aunties hoot and holler at his public display of affection, but all he wants to do was pull the hem down a little bit. No way is he going to let anyone get a flash of your goods.

“Let’s dance!” you take your hand in his, leading him to a comfortable corner of the dance floor.

Clubs aren’t really your scene, aligning with Jungkook’s sentiments towards the loud generic music and terrible smell. But you’re in Vegas, and he feels that it’s all part of the package to experience the nightlife at least once. He puts his hands on your waist and you giggle like you’re in prom, hands coming to rest on the collar of his button down.

“Hey,” he says with a lopsided smirk, “wanna make out?”

“Sure,” he notices that you don’t even check if anyone’s seeing, and it makes his heart flutter when you don’t hesitate to get on your tiptoes to meet him halfway.

He’s always hoped for a moment like this, a moment where the room stops spinning and both your minds click into place. It’s almost comical, how he distinctly notes that the music fades once his lips touch yours. The kiss is hot, yet intimate. Even though he makes excuses to kiss you all the time because of practice, it goes to show that you two definitely never needed it. Your tiny hands grip the collar of his button down, bringing you two impossibly close despite the hot air. His larger hands grip at the strings that hold your measly dress together, grappling at any excuse to get to your soft skin. The two of you are a natural when it comes to each other’s intimacy.

The two of you pull away, mesmerized. You haven’t kissed like that before. He melts under your stare, his thumb reaching to nick off any lip gloss that’s moved in the process.

Seokjin comes down the floor to haul you both by the shoulders, “C’mon lovebirds, they’re taking wedding shots!”

The two of you follow your cousin to the crowd of people that is your family, already with their own drinks in hand. Doyeon and Namjoon are sitting atop the bar, making a very loud toast that consisted of a quick “thank you!” and “we love you!” before downing their drinks with their arms linked together. The room is thrumming with excitement for tomorrow’s festivities, and surprisingly, you and Jungkook included. He tucks himself in your body like a puzzle piece, hugging you from behind while he watches Namjoon’s eyes sparkle with love under the neons.

The nightclub gets a little blurry after that, with the copious amounts of alcohol and shameless actions from your family and friends. By the time it’s twelve Jungkook notices you swaying at a rate that you can’t handle. He knows your limits and knows when you have to urge to pee every five minutes, it’s time to go. With a chaste kiss you leave him at the bar, deciding to make a pitstop to the bathroom before telling Jungkook you want to head up.

You’re locked in a stall when you hear Yoojung’s voice.

“Ugh,” she groans, voice echoing through the tiny room. “Jungkook is so sexy. Do you see the way he’s dancing out there? He’s a literal babe magnet, I can’t believe he ended up with someone like y/n.”

You don’t move a muscle, pressing your ear against the door that hides you. The silly slander isn’t news to you, Doyeon has been feeding her friends all sorts of bullcrap so they wouldn’t bother talking to you.

“Yeah, Jungkook’s a real treat but he dated Doyeon first. Sounds like she’s into sloppy seconds,” Elly replies, another bridesmaid you’ve met in passing. “But I don’t know, they do look happy together.”

“Please, I’m sure Jungkook’s just using her so he can get one more chance at Doyeon before she ties the knot,” you bristle, the thought of Jungkook still having feelings for Doyeon makes your heart thud painfully against your chest, “like, what a downgrade. Namjoon and Doyeon do not deserve this drama. If Jungkook ever liked Doyeon at all, he wouldn’t have come. Period.”

You slam the door open, causing Elly to squeal and Yoojung’s YSL lipstick to fall onto the sink. You’re the epitome of relaxation, walking towards the sink to wash your hands. The bridesmaids simply stare at you, unable to formulate a comeback. When you finally dry your hands, you say your next words.

“Jungkook is here because he loves me,” an act act act. This is all an act. You shouldn’t be this offended because you know it’s all false. “And you’re wrong. It’s not Jungkook that doesn’t deserve Doyeon. Jungkook was too good for Doyeon.”

And you slam your heels against the tile, stilettos pounding to the beat of the music. Your exit is full of anger and frustration as you ignore the burn in your step and the ache in your heart, flagging the first bartender you see to get you a double.

Shot for shot, that anger soon melts into guilt as Yoojung’s words sink in. The thought of Jungkook using you to get to Doyeon is terrible, you can barely stomach the thought. But that’s exactly what you’re doing, right? You’re using Jungkook to get back at Doyeon.

Why did you even want to get back at Doyeon anymore? Why do you have to prove anything to her? If she just continues to push you around, isn’t that more on her than it is on you?

Jungkook soon finds you after you’ve nursed a few drinks, leaning unceremoniously against a barstool. His eyes widen at your state, and he immediately sheds his jacket to wrap it around your waist.

“Why did you drink so much?” he chastises, “it’s the night before the wedding.”

“Jungkookie,” you warble, clutching your stomach, “I don’t feel so good.”

He sighs, bending down. “Get on my back. Make sure the jacket covers you up, okay?”

He doesn’t even grunt when you put all your weight on him, feeling like a ragdoll as he hoists you up. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, letting him carry you to your room. Most of the older family already went upstairs to sleep, so none of your cousins could care less when they see you get hauled away by Jungkook.

You inhale, he smells like sweat and cologne. “I like putting my head between your neck,” you babble, and you feel Jungkook chuckle through his chest, “you smell so nice there. It’s the bestset! Comfiest place ever, ‘specially when m’sleepy.”

“Are you sleepy now, baby?” You love how smooth the petname falls from his lips.

“I will be when we get upstairs,” you reply, happy to see the elevator is empty. “I’m just all up in my head.”

“Is that why you were drinking so much? You said you were gonna stop earlier.”

“Yeah, but,” you shamefully tuck your head in his shoulder, “I was frustrated.”

“Frustrated? At who?” concern laces his tone as he struggles to hold you with one hand and fumble for his key in the other. You tighten your legs around his slim waist until the door clicks open, and he immediately walks over to your bed to plop you down. “Babe, are you crying?” he finally has a good look at your face, horrified to see the streaks of tears mixed with mascara running down your face.

“I wa-was jealous,” you confess tearily, clutching your face in your hands, “some girls in the bathroom were calling you sexy and that you were only here so you could try to win over Doyeon. I know it sounds ridiculous and you would never do that but. The thought of you getting back with her makes me so jealous and I hate it! I’m starting to feel so guilty about this, all of this. I put all of this on ourselves and I’m ruining it.”

“Ruining what? You’re not making any sense.” Jungkook places a hand on your knee, crouching down so he can look up at you.

“I’m ruining us,” you gush despondently, “I’m ruining any potential of us before we even start.”

Jungkook freezes, hand clutching your knee like a lifeline. The potential of you two together? You’ve thought of that? Jungkook didn’t drink much tonight, so his mind is definitely running on all cogs.

Coming to a conclusion, he rubs slow, soothing circles on your knee, his other hand reaching up to wipe the tears from your face. “You’re not ruining anything,” he declares firmly, “that’s impossible. I may have agreed to fake-date you because of Doyeon, but I stayed because of you.”

His heart aches seeing you so upset, and he decides to take initiative to get you out of your clothing and ready for bed. You don’t have any words, opting to let Jungkook take care of you as you try to calm yourself down. He finds a spare t-shirt, a long one so you’ll be comfortable. He doesn’t bat an eye when he unzips your dress, in favor of balling up the shirt and getting you clothed as fast as possible. He rifles through the bathroom to find your makeup wipes, and he’s gentle when he scrubs up the once pretty makeup you spent half an hour doing. Barefaced and fresh, you look sleepy and ready to crash.

But before Jungkook can tuck you in, you clutch his arm.

“Jungkook,” you murmur sleepily, “I think I lo—”

“I know, baby,” he doesn’t want a confession like this, and he’s sure you wouldn’t want it either. You still look a little green and you’re not sober, so he makes the executive decision to pin these feelings for later. “I’m not trying to invalidate you, I promise. I want you to tell me this, all of this in the morning. We’ll talk then.”

“Okay,” you melt in the sheets, pulling the blankets up to your chest. When you see Jungkook move away from the bed, you jolt, “Where are you going?”

Jungkook smiles, reaching over to tuck you back in, “I left my blazer in Namjoon’s room. I’ll be right back, okay?”

He walks out of your room as quietly as he can, making sure to close the door slowly. Once it’s sealed shut, he leaps up, giving himself a silent cheer as he bounds down the hall. You like him back!

The smile on his face is tired but full of fervor as he makes his way to Namjoon and Doyeon’s suite. He doesn’t even care that he probably has to talk to Doyeon to get his jacket back, thoughts filled with the excitement of his requited feelings and going back to his room to cuddle up with you.

He doesn’t even have to knock when the large double doors swing open. Dumbfounded, he looks down at Doyeon, wearing a tiny black nightie and dangling his jacket with one finger. It’s an outfit that leaves nothing to the imagination, and he feels his neck heat up at the feeling he’s encroaching on an intimate moment.

“You left this,” she says slowly, a tiny smirk on her lips.

“Uh, thanks,” he says, making sure not to touch her when he grabs his blazer.

In her other hand she holds up her room’s designated ice bucket. “Could you also get me some ice, please? Namjoon’s fast asleep and I really don’t want to walk out all… exposed.”

He swallows his sigh, knowing it’s going to take significantly longer to get back to you when Doyeon drawls like this. “Of course,” he replies tersely, “after all, you are the bride.”

“Thanks, Jungkookie.”

He makes quick work of getting Doyeon the ice, pumping his long legs down the hall. The ice room is cold and cramped, barely enough for his tall frame to fit in. He jabs the container in the holder, pressing the button ten times per second to get as much ice out as possible.

As soon as he turns around with the ice, he drops the whole bucket.

Like glass, it shatters onto the ground, hundreds of little clear pebbles skimming across the floor like marbles. Doyeon’s pushing Jungkook against the ice machine, freshly manicured hands splayed across his chest. Her body is flush against his, making sure that he feels all of her with her thin silk gown.

“What the fuck, Doyeon get off of me!” a little part of him hopes she’ll come to her senses on her own so he doesn’t have to put his hands on her.

“C’mon, Kookie,” her voice is a sickly candy sweet, her eyes wide with hunger as she takes in his form, “just one more night, you and me. Like old times. One more night before I tie the knot.”

“You’re crazy,” he balks, running his hand through his hair, “this is sexual harassment, do you know that?”

“You don’t mean that, Kookie,” Doyeon dips a red-tipped nail down his chest, “why settle for someone like y/n when I’m right here?”

He grabs her wrists, firm. She winces at the contact, but doesn’t say anything when Jungkook delivers her a scary glare. It gets her quiet, fearful of this version of Jungkook. Doyeon’s never seen Jungkook like this before, so unwilling to bend at her whim and emanating all his power against her.

“Why settle for your cousin?” he whispers like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “because, I love her.”

Her lip curls in disgust, nails digging into the palm of his hand. “But you loved me first.”

“And I’ll love her last,” he spits pack, letting go of her. His anger splits for a brief second, regarding Doyeon with sorrow, “this is low, even for you.”

Jungkook pushes past the ice, wobbling out of the ice room. He doesn’t look back, he just knows that he needs you right now. He needs to tell you everything, figure out a plan to cancel the wedding or something.

But when he crashes inside the room, you’re dead asleep. He can’t find the courage to wake up Seokjin as well, who returned and is sleeping in his club outfit. He groans, feeling useless as he stares at the two of you, ignorant of what just conspired ten minutes ago.

And Namjoon, what is he going to tell Namjoon? Poor guy doesn’t deserve any of this.

Walking up to your side of the bed, he tucks your loose hair behind your ear. You look so peaceful now, so beautiful.

It’s just going to have to wait until the morning.

The morning of the wedding, you wake up alone.

The first thought that runs through your head is that Jungkook has rejected you. The little, insecure bug that will never go away in your brain fills you with rash thoughts. He’s on a flight half way back home and he regrets this whole week.

But after that exaggeration, you notice two aspirin and a bottle of water on your nightstand, along with your phone that’s fully charged.

You pull up the screen to check the dozens of messages that flood your app.

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: morning babe, im sorry i had to leave early. Namjoon showed up at our door freaking out that his suit is the wrong fit and shade. Now im running around vegas trying to find a replacement that doesn’t look like an elvis presley extra

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: but i didn’t forget what you said last night, i promise! Just go get ready and i’ll meet u at the chapel outside the resort.

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: i also have something to say to you

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: wow i didn’t realize how ominous that sounds. Dw, everything will be fine

When someone tells you something will be fine, it’s a universal agreement that no, things will not be fine.

So you get dressed, and put on your makeup mindlessly. You don’t really know what to make of Jungkook’s cryptic message, but you decide to leave those thoughts in the back of your mind as you go to the other rooms to help your family get ready.

Seokjin is busy tying the ring bearer’s tie, looking handsome with his slicked back hair and polished grey suit. “Morning, cousin,” he sing-songs, “you look beautiful today!”

You smooth out your dress, a cascading silver number with starry sparkles. You feel like you’re living out your magical girl fantasies, wrapped up in layers of tulle and a sparkly sweetheart bodice.

“Right back at you. Say, you didn’t see Jungkook this morning, did you?”

“No, but I heard he’s with Namjoon hunting for a new suit. Why?”

“Nothing,” you lean against the guest table, “he just said something really ominous over text.”

“I will never get a peaceful day so long as I’m in this family,” he says this directly to the ring bearer, a toddler who’s obviously confused at his uncle’s weird sayings.

Your phone beeps conveniently, displaying Jungkook’s name.

Jeon Jung-boo-thang: just got his suit. We’ll be there in fifteen. Meet me at the garden behind the chapel, please. It’s urgent

Now you’re just worried. So you tell Seokjin your sentiments, and that he should have his phone on hand in case you needed him. With a confused nod, you leave him to go down to the garden.

The groomsmen and bridesmaids are already at the chapel taking pictures. Only the wedding party is really allowed at this time, but you manage your way through the gardens virtually undetected. Jungkook’s already waiting for you, hiding under a white gazebo overlooking the hotel’s fountain.

He looks gorgeous in his all black pinstripe suit, hair pushed back and pants fitted perfectly around his waist and thighs. When he sees you he gets up, full of skittish energy. You note that his hair isn’t even styled, only washed and curling slightly at the ends, as if he’s in a rush.

“W-wow,” he marvels when you rush up to him, “you look gorgeous.”

You drop the handful of silver tulle, letting it fall to the floor. “Jungkook,” you clasp his hand in both of his, guilt flooding your eyes. You’ve been thinking about this all morning, and you need to cut to the chase. Jungkook tries to open his mouth but you silence him with a finger on his lips. “I can’t—I can’t do this. I know this sounds really stupid and you probably don’t want anything to do with me after this, but I shouldn’t have made this elaborate scheme,” you bite your lip, feeling even more antsy as Jungkook squirms in his grip. He however, is trying very hard to focus with his eyes, confused at your sudden confession. “I like you, Jungkook. I don’t want to parade you around like a revenge plot anymore, it isn’t fair and it’s wrong in so many ways—”

“That’s great,” he says simply, brown eyes swirling with thoughts, “um, ditto. But—”

“Wow,” you frown, “I pour my heart out to you and this is what I get?”

“It’s great that you want to be selfless right now,” Jungkook takes your hand, firm and tight, “but without this elaborate scheme, we wouldn’t be saving asses like we are right now.”

“What are you talking about?” You thought Jungkook rushed you down here so you could talk about each other’s feelings before the wedding.

“Doyeon just threw herself on me last night. I got her ice and she took that as an invitation to seduce me like an episode of Sex and the City. Namjoon needs to divorce her, like yesterday.”

Your face then morphs into something dark and ugly, and you fling your whole confession out the window. The thought of Doyeon going as far as throwing herself on Jungkook as a last ditch attempt to get back at you, has you seeing blood red. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this sooner!”

“You were asleep!” he shoots back, putting his hands on your shoulders. He rubs warm strokes up and down your bare arms, “please relax. You’re shaking.”

“And why didn’t you tell Namjoon when you were driving around all morning?”

“I tried to!” he retorts, hands swinging in the air. You huff when his hands land back on your shoulders, preventing you from running to the chapel to extract Doyeon out yourself, “but he just kept talking shit about how much he loves Doyeon and he can’t imagine being together with anyone but her and I felt so bad! I’m sorry I chickened out. I really don’t wanna be the one to break Namjoon’s heart. I’m just the plus one!”

You pinch your brows, mulling it over. “Fuck it, let’s crash a wedding,” you declare, “where’s Namjoon and how can we get him alone?”

Jungkook exhales, a hand carding up to loosen his thin silver tie. “He’s taking pictures with the groomsmen right now. It’s gonna be awhile before we get a chance to talk.”

“Fuck,” you curse, sitting down on the white bench. Jungkook presses soothing circles on your back. “We have no choice, we have to get to him before the ceremony starts.”

“You’ll have to get through me, first.”

Doyeon’s not even in her wedding dress when she strides up to the two of you. She’s in ballet flats with her hair and makeup done, but the only thing she’s wearing is the thin underdress of her actual ball gown, a simple silk negligee that reaches her ankles. You don’t even know how she’s managed to escape the bridal party, especially without her dress.

Feeling protective, you step in front of Jungkook. “Before you say anything,” you murmur, “I’m not ruining your wedding, and I never wanted to. You’re ruining it because of your mistakes.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” Doyeon rolls her eyes, playing with her nails, “I didn’t even do anything wrong, everyone knows that on the bachelorette’s night she can do whatever she wants. Namjoon could’ve fucked whoever too if he wasn’t so faithful.”

“Namjoon is ten times the partner you are and would never do that,” You’re seeing red, unable to comprehend the complete garbage spilling from Doyeon’s lips. “You touched my boyfriend without his consent, and I will never forgive you for that,” your voice is scarlet, angry and thin.

“It’s not like he isn’t used to it, I—”

“NO!” the sound that comes out of your mouth has all three of you flinching, and you’re thankful the gazebo is far enough so that the rest of the wedding party is oblivious to your actions. “You’re not allowed to justify yourself anymore, Doyeon. What you did was fucked up, what you’ve done to all of us is fucked up!” You realize now that you didn’t need to get back at Doyeon with a fake date, what you needed was this. You needed a reprieve, a chance to lay down your law. “Jungkook was right all along. You are jealous. You’re jealous and selfish and have no shame. You think you own whatever you set your eyes on, but you’re wrong. We’re not objects, we’re people.”

You walk up to Doyeon, eye to eye. You jab a hand at her chest, pushing her back slightly. You soak up your cousin’s expression, and you watch as Doyeon’s eyes pop out in surprise at your act of boldness. “So you have a choice here. You can either swallow your pride and leave Namjoon at the aisle quietly and save whatever dignity you have left. Take your pathetic ass on the next flight back home and pack up your apartment. Or, we can start a big scene at your ceremony,” you probably look manic, filled with freshly injected power, “I know Seokin’s always wanted to yell ‘I object!’ at a wedding.”

“You have no proof,” Doyeon glares right back, taking a step closer to you. Your noses are practically touching, but you dig your heels in the white-stained wood, puffing up your chest and standing your ground.

“Doesn’t matter,” you bite back, “what matters is that Namjoon will doubt you. Namjoon knows we’d never do anything to sabotage a wedding without a valid reason. Even if you do get married tonight, we have Jungkook’s word and proof of a relationship that overlaps with his. I find this option to be far worse because it’s prolonging the inevitable,” you shrug, “I hope you two didn’t sign a prenup.”

Hot, angry tears mess up her meticulously done makeup. Black rivers carve through her porcelain skin, showing the feelings that have been dormant since been hidden under a facade. Doyeon’s eyes dart back and forth between the two of you. She’s practically vibrating in combined fear and rage, seeing blurry images and memories and regrets of what could’ve been if not for her self-absorption. And finally, your cousin comes to a decision.

“I hate you,” she emphasizes each word with the most concentrated of venoms in her tone. WIth one last look at the two of you, she stomps away. Instead of going to the direction of the chapel however, she takes the shortcut back to the hotel.

Her grave words are unsurprising, but nevertheless disappointing. A thinly veiled smile grazes your lips, sadder than ever as you watch your cousin go. “And I pity you.”

As soon as she’s gone Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up, hugging you tightly as you fight the urge to cry again. “Oh babe, that was really hot. The way you stood your ground? That was amazing!” Jungkook takes out his silver pocket square to wipe the stray tears that threaten to ruin your makeup. “You’re so strong, don’t you know that? You did it and I’m so proud of you.”

As much as you want to revel in the affection, go back and bed and fall asleep until noon, you can’t. Grasping Jungkook by the hand, you tug him to the chapel. “C’mon,” you say, “we have to corner Namjoon.”

The groomsmen photos are done by the time you get there. Thankfully, the to-be-groom doesn’t look too occupied. His eyes widen upon seeing you two stumble from the garden of all places.

“Oh, y/n. Jungkook,” Namjoon tilts his head curiously at how winded you two look, equally flushed and out of breath. From your state, Namjoon muses that it must've taken a lot of effort to finally get to the groom unattended, save for a few random family members he’s making small talk with, “The wedding isn’t for another hour but I must say, you two look radiant together. Doyeon always thought you’d end up an old spinster-catlady, but I always told her that you’re too beautiful to be single for long,” he pauses to send the aforementioned man a wink, “Jungkook’s a lucky guy. What were you two doing back there?”

“Uh, things?” Jungkook scratches the back of his head, not wanting to reiterate the fiasco between Doyeon moments before.

Namjoon smirks at the ebony-haired man, “Couple things?”

You can’t take this needless small talk anymore. With a teary groan, you throw yourself at Namjoon. You hug him tight, and you don’t even care when you feel a slosh of his water bottle sprinkle your hairstyle.

“Joonie,” you bemoan, “please, please don’t leave me. You’re the best not-cousin ever. I know it’ll be a pain to face Doyeon after today but you’re a strong independent man and when you’re ready Jin is single and ready to mingle—ow! Jungkook! Did you just pinch my ass?”

“Do you really think setting him up with the next cousin is the best idea right now?”

“I figured a little humor would lighten the blow,” you sulk.

“I’m sorry what—what blow?” Namjoon frowns, pushing you away from him. “Y/n, have you been crying?”

The tears resurface at that moment, like a kettle on overboil. Namjoon’s face is knitted together, unable to grasp at any conclusion. Namjoon feels something grave is upon the sky as he tenderly brushes away your tears with his thumbs before releasing you. Instantly Jungkook pulls you to his chest, patting you soothingly. As much as you two do not want to be the bearer of bad news, the time is now.

“Namjoon,” Jungkook says, finding the strength that was previously stuck in his throat, “we have to tell you something.”

Needless to say, Las Vegas is very forgiving when it comes to last minute wedding cancellations.

The whole wedding party, both Namjoon and yours, collectively feels like a whole ice bucket has been dumped upon your families. You would like to say that the whole issue was handled mess free, but that would be a bald-faced lie.

There was screaming, crying, hysterical laughter from all sides. Doyeon’s parents were of course furious, embarrassed, unable to calm down a hysterical Doyeon as they haul her on the next flight home. You have a feeling they won’t be showing up to family events anytime soon.

Namjoon’s family leaves quietly, frustrated, but classy. After all, they know at the back of their heads they dodged a bullet. Everyone leaves except Namjoon however, who isn’t quite ready to go back to his and Doyeon’s apartment. Namjoon invites Seokjin and some other close cousins to stay in his suite until their flight tomorrow afternoon, wanting to be surrounded by close friends and (almost) family.

As for your family, they decide to find the silver lining. While the chapel was able to cancel the wedding, the reception wasn’t as easy to sway. At the very last second, your grandparents decided to make use of the reception and renew their Golden Anniversary vows instead. The ceremony will be a quick, sweet affair. At this very moment, your cousin Yoongi is getting officiated online.

And for you? You’re in the place where you’ve wanted to remain all week. A fluffy hotel bed wrapped up with your not-boyfriend.

Or?

Would a not-boyfriend be snuggling against your chest like you’re the softest teddy bear in the toy shop? Would a not-boyfriend be hooking your leg atop his lap, forcing you to latch onto him so his hands can roam freely against your soft thighs?

“We have to get ready for the wedding,” you whine against his hold, to no avail when he only holds you tighter.

“But your grandparents are already married,” Jungkook whines right back, nuzzling his nose in your head. “This is like an afterparty fifty years later.”

“I wanna get dressed,” you insist, pushing yourself up, “and we still need to talk.”

Without Seokjin staying with you, the hotel room feels much bigger and freer for the two of you. Your clothes are scattered on the floor, uncaring of any wrinkles or smears that would get on the delicate fabric.

All that matters is that Jungkook is still here with you. Doyeon’s wedding is called off, but he’s still lying in bed with you. You want to burn this image to memory, and keep it forever. Jungkook laying in only his white undershirt and boxers, looking at you dreamily as if he’s still in nap-mode. Hair that was previously windswept and exposing his forehead is now out of place, fluffy and sticking out in all directions. His cheeks are flushed with coral-colored warmth, and a little puffy because you two have been sleeping most of the afternoon.

“Right, talk,” he repeats, letting you hand him his black button up so he can clothe himself.

You throw off your shirt somewhere behind you, not wanting to face him as you walk to the full-length mirror. “So, I think my feelings for you are pretty clear and out in the open…”

“Same, I think I made it pretty clear as well.”

“What? You turn around, looking at where he’s still half-covered in bed. “You did not. I distinctly remember almost confessing my love to you last night. And then this morning, only for you to cut me off and say ‘that’s great’.”

“Oh,” he stares at the white sheets that cover his lower half. “I guess I didn’t then.”

You smile wryly, turning back to face the mirror so you can slip into your dress that’s been pooled around your ankles like a silver halo. “Maybe you thought it in your mind and forgot to tell me.”

That seems about right. Jungkook has a tendency to be a little too passionate for his own good, windswept in thoughts and feelings until they consume him. He hops out of bed, walking only in his dress shirt and socks as he makes his way to the mirror. “Then let me do all the talking,” he says softly against your neck, hands on your hips.

You shiver when you feel the cold silver of the zipper whirr up your body, Jungkook’s large hands splaying across your back to smooth out the waistline.

“You of all people would know that being with Doyeon is a trip,” he chuckles into the crook of your neck, “I thought that was what love felt like. Being codependent, jumping through hurdles, trying so hard to please someone who can’t be pleased.”

Jungkook’s hands wrap around your waist, hugging you tightly. He squeezes you and holds you like the most precious thing in the entire world. Through the mirror, you two are quite a pair.

“But with you, I never knew love could be like this, feel like this.”

“So… are you saying you love me?” you fight the urge to bounce around in his grip, the biggest smile on your face.

“You really just want me to say ‘I love you’ and be done with it, huh?”

Within seconds he’s pulling you from behind, whirling you around to the edge of the bed. He manages to flouce up your skirts to billow around his lap, sitting you down on his bare thighs.

“You look like a cupcake, all sprawled up like this,” Jungkook says cutely, peppering kisses in a trail from your chest all the way to your lips. “You look like a huge, silvery cupcake and I love you. It’s so easy to love you.”

Maybe it was kismet that Jungkook didn’t get to you first all those years ago. Maybe the right time is right here, right now.

“I love you, too,” you say happily, dipping down to press a long, passionate kiss to his lips. He tastes like love and a happy future. When you pull away, you encapsulate his face in both your palms, regarding him like the sun and stars. “But you know, if we date you’ll never get away from my crazy family.”

Jungkook snorts, pressing his forehead to yours, “And miss Yoongi re-marrying off your grandparents tonight, the next year of Seokjin and Namjoon running circles around each other, and a lifetime of happiness?” his hands snake under your dress, finding purchase in your soft skin, “not a chance.”

#jungkook x reader #gcn23 #goldenclosetnet #btsghostie #kwritersworldnet #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst

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irrelevantwriter · 3 years

Text

Embracing Misery

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, funny Rio (he got jokes), secret feelings (bc I love to torture my characters)

Word Count: 3.6K

Summary: Part 3. Rio returns and you decide to take some initiative.

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the love and support on these Rio fics! It truly means so much and I am so glad you’re enjoying them. I now bring you part three of a saga that was not at all planned, but has somehow happened anyway. I blame the Rio haze I’m still very much in and my zero chill tendencies. If you guys haven't read parts one and two, then I recommend doing so, for plot purposes. I have some more things planned for this duo so we’ll see what my muse brings. Until then, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

***********************

It was early.

The house was blessedly quiet while your children stayed at their father’s house for the weekend. You soaked up the stillness of the early morning sun rays and crisp, cool air. They washed over you, as if cleansing what the previous night’s sleep hadn’t. You missed your kids like crazy while they were away, but the mornings alone were priceless. It was a time for you to prepare for the day. A luxury you hadn’t been afforded since before the kids were born. But now...now you got to take it all in. Enjoy the serenity.

Or so you thought.

You tied the sash of your robe as you opened the front door, preparing to grab the morning paper, but as soon as you turned the knob you knew what would be waiting on the other side. Something told you he was there. You didn’t need to look out onto the street to see the familiar sleekness of a dark tinted luxury car. You could feel him. Feel his eyes on you as you bent down to get the paper and turned, leaving the front door wide open.

Rio had been gone for nearly two months. You hadn’t seen or spoken to the man in that long. Not even a text message, though the thought had crossed your mind on more than one occasion. You had no idea where he’d been or what he’d been doing while he was away, but you’d had no choice but to conduct business as usual. Mick had been your contact, times and places for drop-offs exactly as Rio had set them up. It was as if he was still running things from wherever he was. As if he could somehow see you without actually seeing you.

During his time away you’d done nothing but think of when he’d return. You teetered on the edge of worry and longing as your thoughts raced between concern for your boss slash lover to outright arousal. You’d spent more than one night thinking about his hands on your body while yours tried desperately to replicate his touch. It would get the job done, but it was nothing compared to that gentle slide of hand or gravelly voice that sent literal shivers up your spine. Your body had missed him. And you had come to the realization that you did too.

You walked into your kitchen, hearing the click of the front door as he passed through the threshold. You went straight for the humming coffee pot, grabbing two mugs from the cabinet.

“Coffee?” You asked over your shoulder, not at all surprised to hear the shakiness in your voice.

“Sure.”

Your entire body thrummed to life at that solitary sound. You hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet and already your thighs were clenching together. Your nipples hardened against the thin fabric of your tank top, your black robe barely concealing the reaction. You poured the coffee with unsteady hands, preparing yourself to face him once again.

When you turned around, you were greeted with a familiar smirk and a magnificent throat tattoo. A tattoo that you’d missed. He looked exactly the same. Same dark button-up. Same dark jeans. Same intense eyes. Same addictive swagger. It all came together to seduce you into a trance. A trance you’d fallen victim to in the past. It was a fog of uncertainty and lust. It was powerful. Merciless. And you couldn’t stop it from taking you hostage if you tried. So...you embraced it.

You slid the mug of coffee across the kitchen island towards him, a gesture that had you experiencing déjà vu. He accepted it and the sugar you offered. You watched as he dressed his beverage. Two spoonfuls of sugar. No milk or cream. He stirred it and then sipped, nodding in approval at the taste. The entire display was odd...domestic even.

His eyes trailed over your body before coming to rest on your face.

“Did you miss me, mama?” He asked cheekily, white teeth on display. They bit sensually into his bottom lip, the action making warmth seep deep into your bones.

You laughed. You’d missed the banter. Missed his blatant want for you. It was a cruel punishment to take away someone’s drug of choice. Rio just so happened to be yours. And you’d been experiencing withdrawals for the last two months. You desperately needed a hit. Needed something to take the edge off.

“Hardly.” You quipped, smiling so that he could see the lie clearly written on your face.

He only stared back. The action was still unnerving.

You turned to pour your own cup of coffee, feeling his gaze ghost across your back. You busied yourself with adding cream and sugar, the clang of the spoon against ceramic the only sound reverberating throughout the house. You took a few cursory sips, testing the temperature of the liquid. It was hot. Too hot. But you drank it anyway.

Turning around to face Rio once again, you were surprised to find the spot across the island empty. Your eyes darted around the immediate area, catching a glimpse of him lounging on your sofa. The same sofa he’d fucked you against. Along with the kitchen island.

You left your drink behind, bare feet walking with a purpose across the cold wood floors. You rounded the sofa and took him in. One leg was crossed over the other, his mug resting against his knee as he steadied it with one hand. His free arm extended along the back of the couch, taking up a fair amount of space on the piece of furniture.

He was a picture of comfort and ease. Looking as if he belonged there. You supposed in that moment, he did.

You observed him for a long time. Long enough for his face to grow serious as he stared up at you. A myriad of emotions swirled within you. All of them seemed to be conflicting. They pushed and pulled in various directions, telling you what you should do while others persuaded you to do what you wanted to do. In the end none of it mattered. You’d already sold your soul to the devil long before you got into bed with him. It was time to accept that.

You wordlessly reached for his drink, moving the mug onto the coffee table. He let you, uncrossing his legs and watching you with a sharp eye. You grasped for the knot that held your robe together and pulled the two ends apart, feeling the material start to give way. It fell open to reveal the tank top and shorts you wore underneath. It was a far cry from lingerie, but it sent the same message. You wore no bra, an obvious fact as his eyes hungrily took you in. Your shorts were cut high, practically underwear and exposing more leg than you would’ve normally felt comfortable with. The robe fell from your shoulders and into a heap at your feet.

You swallowed, feeling the butterflies in your stomach begin to take flight. You focused on him. You focused on the way he looked at you. And how he made you feel. You let that be your guide as you pulled your top up and over your head. The garment joined the robe on the floor as you moved on to your shorts, pulling them down and letting them slide along your thighs. You were left in your demure cotton panties. You were only slightly embarrassed by their modesty, but Rio showed no inclination that he was put off. In fact, his mouth twitched, his lower half shifting against the couch.

You looped your fingers into the waistband of the cotton and pushed them down, baring yourself completely. He’d never seen you naked. Your previous trysts had been rushed with clothes shifted aside and out of the way in frenzied yearning. It’d never been thought out before. And now, here you were standing naked in your own living room, seducing the man you were sure wanted to kill you about as much as he wanted to fuck you.

It was exhilarating.

“What’re you doing?” Rio rasped, gaze locked with yours. His voice was low and tinged with desire. He looked equal parts amused and perplexed, and the thought of him trying to be a gentleman in your current state of undress only made your need for him strengthen.

“Sshh...” You soothed, stepping between his spread legs and straddling his lap.

His hands immediately gripped around your waist, the touch of his bare flesh against yours sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You kissed him, hands sliding up his chest and resting on the buttons of his shirt. He reciprocated your eagerness, lips moving with yours. Your tongue reached out to taste him and he accepted, his hands kneading the flesh of your ass in approval. Your lower body writhed in his lap, feeling the firm muscle resting beyond his zipper.

You longed to feel his skin against yours. To feel the proof of life beat against your own chest. To feel close to him in a way you hadn’t thus far. Your fingers moved swiftly to grant you the sensation you craved. You unfastened each button, pulling his shirt apart and gliding your palms over the smooth muscle of his chest. His hips thrust up into yours restlessly as you explored his upper body. Your lips had yet to detach from each other, completely lost in reuniting. Your nails lightly grazed down his chest and abdomen, feeling him reciprocate the action by nibbling your lip.

His touch scorched your skin, roaming freely. He cupped your heaving breasts, mouth moving to your neck as he attacked your skin with kisses. You threw your head back in blessed relief and pleasure, finally feeling as if you could breathe again. You maneuvered your hands between your bodies, aiming for his belt buckle. You were impatient. Unable to wait for him to fill you. You’d waited long enough. The abundance of slickness that slid from your walls could attest to that.

“Mmmm...” He growled against your neck when you finally pulled him free, your palm easily smoothing over the hard length. His hips rutted into your touch, his own impatience showing.

You moaned when his lips attached to a nipple and sucked. He tortured you with sensations, bouncing between gentle and unyielding. His mouth was hot and wet against your flesh, encouraging your arousal to new heights. You craved more.

Again you took the initiative and lifted your hips, angling his length to fit against your weeping slit. He pulled away from your chest and took you in, watching as you slowly impaled yourself on his cock. Your lips parted as you engulfed him, your breathing accelerating with every inch he filled you. It’d been too long and your body was taut, clenching around him in such a way that let him know just how much you’d missed his touch.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you finally bottomed out, your thighs flush with his. His fingers gripped your hips, his body completely still and waiting for you to move. His brow was furrowed, his lips pouted as he took in measured breaths. He almost looked in pain as you sat unmoving atop him. The notion pleased you.

You moaned when he shifted, his cock nudging your womb. You couldn’t prolong the torture anymore and began to swirl your hips, your palms flat against his chest. It was a new dynamic for you both. Being able to control the moment with him was not something you were used to. His demanding nature was something you secretly loved, but having him at your mercy like this was so much better. You could see every pass of ecstasy on his face. Feel it in the way he twitched inside you. It was addicting.

His calloused hands massaged your breasts as you rode him, his dark eyes glazed over with lust but still holding you captive. He slid along your walls, stretching and filling you to capacity. You only got wetter at the feel of him, the slickness so overwhelming that he almost fell from your tight clutches. You used his shoulders for leverage as you moved, your pace increasing, desperate to come undone with him.

“Damn...yeah, just like that.” Rio exhaled, hands encouraging your hips to keep their speed.

He licked his lips as you bounced, flesh slapping as you fucked yourself. You watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he sucked his thumb into his mouth and then attached it to your clit, rubbing the swollen flesh in sensual circles. You arched your back and whimpered, feeling the tendrils of climax begin to latch on.

“I’m gonna cum.” You confessed, feeling your skin slicken with perspiration. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he continued his assault on your clit, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to keep the moans at bay.

“Do it, mama.” He throatily demanded, leaving no room for argument.

“C-cum...with me.” You pleaded between breaths. He nipped at the underside of your chin and you swore you could feel his smirk against your flesh.

He didn’t waste another second.

You held on as Rio’s hips met yours, his cock hitting your cervix with a brutality that had you seeing stars. Your muscles spasmed from the inside out, your limbs locking as you came. Your walls clamped around him in stuttering patterns, giving him no other option but to feel it all. You held him to you as you shook, feeling yourself dripping down your thighs and his length. He continued to fuck you through it, his control now waning. He buried his face into your chest and neck, holding you just as tightly as he repeatedly thrust up into you.

“Inside me...please.” You found yourself begging, exhausted from your own euphoria but still wanting to feel him release deep within you. It was a sensation you thrived on. It meant he was real. That he wasn’t a figure in the night or a lone man with a gun. He’d been inside you. Painted your walls in him. Claimed you. And you wanted to feel that for as long as you could.

“You want it?” He grunted against your neck, hands digging so hard into your ass that the area would surely be sore afterwards. It was welcomed after his prolonged absence. Just another clue that he’d been there.

“Please…” You whimpered, uncaring that you sounded so desperate.

He said nothing in return. Only thrust harder as he finally came. He held you still against him, ensuring not a drop of his cum left your joined bodies. You reveled in the warmth that suddenly filled you, spreading your thighs wider across his lap. His teeth dragged along your collarbone, eliciting a shiver from you.

It was quiet for a moment, your labored breathing slowly steadying with the beating of your heart. You were pressed against his bare chest, his hands now smoothing across your flesh rather than gripping it. The sensation nearly put you to sleep.

“So you missed me then?” Rio teased, his voice raspier than normal.

You sat up straight, looking down into his eyes that were glinting back at you with boyish arrogance. You cracked a smile and shook your head.

“I’m not answering that.”

“You didn’t have to, darling.” He whispered, face growing serious as he tenderly shifted the few strands of hair that stuck to your forehead.

Laughter bubbled in your throat suddenly, effectively cutting through the moment. His fingers drifted to your lips, tracing them as you broke into a smile.

“Somethin’ funny?” He asked, an eyebrow raised. His own lips quirked up at the sound of your tired giggles, your body shaking above him.

“We haven’t made it to a bed yet.” You said between laughs, pulling his hand from your mouth and resting it on your cheek instead. You held onto his forearm, the sinewy muscle feeling sturdy under your touch.

“There’s still time.” He retorted with a sly smile, his eyes taking in your face in a careful study. The intensity of it was almost enough to make you feel bashful.

You were lost in the moment, ready to let him take you again when a knock at the front door sounded. You scrambled up, hearing a key in the knob.

“Fucking Paul.” You cursed as you grabbed your discarded robe and hastily tied the sash. “Get dressed.” You ordered Rio, that smug smirk still planted firmly on his lips.

You moved past him and through the dining room to the front door, seeing your ex shuffle through the door with a baseball bag thrown over his shoulder. Your son’s bag. He must’ve forgotten something for his game today.

“You mind?” You snapped at him, throwing a quick glance behind you to ensure he couldn’t see Rio through the entryway.

“Well, I called but you didn’t answer. Figured you were still asleep.” Paul supplied with a nonchalant shrug.

“You couldn’t wait until I actually answered the door instead of using a key? A key I was sure I got back from you.”

He rolled his eyes, not making any move to return the item.

Bastard.

“What’re you doing here, Paul?”

“Anthony forgot his mitt. Needs it for the game today.”

You inwardly rolled your eyes, both at your ex and your son. They were mirror images of each other and that extended to their forgetfulness.

You walked to the entryway bench and lifted the pillow, knowing it would be stuck there because that’s where Anthony always left his gear after a game.

“Here.” You said shortly, thrusting the glove over to him. The sooner he got it, the sooner he’d be gone.

The universe was a cruel bitch though.

A shuffling from behind you pulled both yours and Paul’s attention. You tensed as Rio rounded the corner, clothes neatly tucked back into place. He eyed your ex for a long moment, making both you and Paul uncomfortable.

“I-uh...this-,” You stumbled over your words, at a loss for how to proceed. “He was just checking on some things around the house.” You lamely offered.

“What things?” Paul threw back with a raised brow, obviously not buying your answer.

“Just taking a look at her pipes.” Rio quipped, making you cough.

The air was awkward and tense as the two men sized each other up. You could see the suspicion in Paul’s eyes as he took in Rio’s very notable tattoo. Paul’s gaze flicked to yours, attempting to read your face. You opened your mouth to cut through the silence, but Rio beat you to it.

“I gotta go. I’ll be in touch.” He said, facing you and biting his lip. The action was purposeful. A signal of sorts.

You nodded and crossed your arms, watching with bated breath as he walked past Paul. He stared at the man as if he was a nuisance, giving him a quick once over before chuckling and exiting out the door. You released a sigh of relief once the door latched, your shoulders easing now that he’d left. A wave of disappointment followed. You were hoping to spend more time with him before he ultimately disappeared again. You were sure you’d see him at your next drop off now that he was back, but that was still days away. And you’d be damned if you reached out to the man for anything other than business-related topics.

You’d just have to wait.

“Friend of yours?” Paul interrupted your thoughts, face twisted in disapproval.

“He was here to check the pipes. They were making a weird noise. Wanted to make sure they didn’t freeze over.” You explained, your attitude back in full force.

“Sure.” He replied flatly, eyes belatedly taking in your state of undress. “You should put some decent clothes on when you have strange men in the house.”

The chastising tone of his voice made you see red. It was one of the reasons you’d divorced him. Along with the infidelity. And his tendency to be an egotistical piece of shit. Your reaction was a completely different reaction to Rio’s reprimands. Rio made you feel alive...desired. Paul’s goal was to always control and make you feel less than. He’d lost that fight throughout your marriage, but that didn’t stop him from continuing to do so long after it’d ended.

“You need to go.” You demanded between clenched teeth, opening the door for him and gesturing him out.

He took the hint and walked outside to the porch, shaking his head as he did.

“The kids wanted all of us to go out to dinner. Including Erica.” He said as he turned to face you, hand held to the door that you were ready to slam in his face.

You fought the urge to scoff at the mention of his fiancé and instead nodded, a pleasant smile on your lips and pure hate in your heart.

“Sure. Text me details. I’ve gotta go before this cum running down my leg stains the carpet.”

Paul’s face was priceless. And you had the pleasure of slamming the door in it. You smiled victoriously to yourself. The unexpected visit wasn’t so bad after all.

Your two worlds were getting harder to keep separated. That was apparent after the debacle that just took place. Rio was a significant presence in your life. And it was in more than just a working relationship way. That was obvious now. But were you really ready to let that happen? To let him in? The answer was still no. It would always be no. But sleeping with your boss had to have some benefits. And you were willing to find out exactly what those were. Misery and all.

#rio #rio good girls #good girls rio #rio imagine #rio x you #rio x reader #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #nbc good girls #good girls nbc

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