#I’m so happy flutter isn’t here

[callmeend]

I really hate shipping sometimes, please don’t come to me with your rarepairs that look like you put everyone off the same gender on a wheel and spun it for 5 hours and whatever character flew off wasn’t invited to the sister scissoring that night

Oh wait this isn’t a safe space (runs away)

[thereoncewasagirlnamedjane]

PAIRING | Robert “Bob” Reynolds x f!Reader

TAGS/WARNINGS | angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, non-sexual intimacy/nudity, Bob’s sadness and self-deprecating thoughts.

SUMMARY | Four times Bob lets his true feelings for you go unaddressed, and the one time he doesn’t.

WORD COUNT | 3.3k

NOTES | You know, I was actually gonna take a break from writing (again, I know, I’m sorry) but I somehow managed to bang this out today at work so here you go, my first ever Bob fic 🫶🏻 Happy Wednesday!

⋆ ˚｡⋆˚ NAVIGATION | | BOB REYNOLDS M.LIST ˚⋆｡˚ ⋆

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✧.* Truth Be Told

The first time he touches you, he does it almost without hesitation.

Normally, Bob makes a point to keep a respectable distance. He doesn’t touch anyone or anything without the most careful of considerations first—even though he wants it, craves it.

But when you’re this close, when you’re leaning into him instead of away, when you’re looking at him like he’s just Bob and not the same guy who almost let the Void inside him swallow New York whole, his hands can’t help but ache for you.

He’s restless with it, his palms itching as though something was missing. He wants to know what your skin would feel like under his fingertips, whether your eyelashes would flutter under his touch, and if you’d sigh just the way he would whenever he imagined closing the distance between you.

So before he knows it, Bob’s already reaching for you.

His heart leaps to his throat the moment he makes contact, turning his hand over, using the blade of his finger to brush away the crumbs at the corner of your mouth.

You look up from your plate, the box of pastries you’d bought for the entire team as an early afternoon pick-me-up still laying open on the table, your eyes widening a fraction when they meet his.

“You’ve got a little bit of…” he trails off, not really caring or even knowing what it is. Bob’s never had much of a sweet tooth, but right now, you smell like almonds and raspberry jam and a touch of something that’s uniquely you… and he suddenly wants nothing more than to taste.

“Oh,” is all you say, staying still as he lets his hand linger instead, his knuckles brushing along the curve of your jaw. You smile, your eyes softening, and for a fraction of a second Bob swears you lean into his touch. “Thanks, Bob.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice or the temptation of your name on his lips, before very reluctantly breaking the connection. His fingers are already twitching with the need to touch you again by the time he puts it back down onto the dining table.

And although you never talk about it, there is an easing of invisible barriers after that. Now that he’s had a taste, Bob can no longer resist the warmth of your skin against his—no matter how chaste or innocent the contact is.

“You’ve got an eyelash,” he’d say, pointing to his own face, his lips twitching with the fib, and you’d simply lean forward at the same time he did, allowing him to swipe the tip of his finger down your cheek. Trusting, unsuspecting, and oblivious to the yearning expanding like a balloon in his chest.

What if, one day, he could lean in just like this and let his lips find their way to yours?

Impossible, but a man could dream.

But sometimes there isn’t anything there at all, but he still dips slightly at the waist, beckoning you with his hand before removing the imaginary thing from your cheek, your nose, or the aching perfection that is your cupid’s bow.

And when you smile up at him expectantly, even when Yelena catches him in his little white lies one day, lifting a skeptical brow when she meets his eye over your head, Bob just carries on.

Truth be told, he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it.

—

The first time he ever holds your hand is on a Thursday.

It’s unseasonably cold for the time of year, and Bob’s shivering under his sweater. You have been sent out on an errand to restock the Tower with food and supplies, and Bucky insisted that Bob go with you.

“Wouldn’t want anything to happen to you out there,” Bucky said to you, slapping a hand down onto Bob’s shoulder before turning towards him, “Right?”

“Right,” Bob mumbled, feeling his cheeks going red because evidently his feelings were written all over his face, and now even Bucky, of all people, was taking it upon himself to nudge things along.

“Plus Bob can help carry your bags,” Yelena joined in, not looking up from the game of Scrabble she was playing with Alexei. “Dad, that is not a word!”

“Says who?” He said, gesturing to the gibberish he’d placed on the board, full of X’s, M’s, C’s, and V’s, but not a single vowel in sight.

Ava scoffed, her face scrunching up in both confusion and annoyance. “She can take care of herself. Just last week she kicked John’s ass—”

But then John nudged her, maybe a little too hard, almost sending her tumbling out of her chair. She glared up at him, before she caught the meaningful look on his face.

“Oh… yeah… erm, nighttime in New York is practically the Purge. Might as well take him with you.”

You gave them all looks of thinly veiled suspicion, but then you just shook your head and turned to Bob as you were winding a scarf around your neck. Smiling, you asked him, “Do you mind, Bob?”

As if he would.

Venturing outdoors is still rather daunting, which is probably another reason why the team’s been so eager to get him out of the Tower. The thought that someone might recognize him makes him sweat, despite the mid-morning chill.

And then the two of you approach a particularly crowded spot on the sidewalk, and Bob’s footsteps falter slightly. You stop as if you sense his hesitation, turning to him just before disappearing into the throng of New Yorkers. As naturally as breathing, you hold out a hand.

“Come on,” you prompt with a shake of your hand when he just stares for a few seconds.

Bob holds on quickly before you can change your mind. You tug him along, squeezing his hand tighter as you reach the thick of the crowd. Bob emerges on the other side of it with pink cheeks that should be almost numb from the biting wind, but instead they are warm with something else.

And even as the horde dissipates, the sidewalk opening up with more than enough space for the two of you to walk side by side, you don’t let go.

He catches your reflections in the glass windows of the nearby shops, you with your head turned away to admire the displays of a flower shop, but your hands still joined together.

Bob wonders what others think you are to him.

He wants them to know you’re special.

He hopes you know, too.

—

The first time he falls asleep next to you starts with him sitting in the dark of his room, his shoulders slumping a little further forward with each passing minute. The others have left on another mission without him, and Bob just wishes he could do something to help.

But he still can’t control his powers well enough yet; it’d be too dangerous for him to be out in the field with them. He understands this better than anyone—the last time he tried tapping into full extent of his Sentry powers, he almost murdered somebody (even if Alexei would argue that that person, Valentina, had deserved it), that god-like sense of superiority leeching ominously into his mind.

He is hopeful when Yelena says he’s improving, slowly but surely, tries to believe it when Bucky tells him that it will happen soon. He just needs a little more time.

But Bob can’t help but feel like a burden, someone they have to take care of rather than a part of the team. The voice in the back of his mind comes back, a few notes lower than his own, that slight taunting lilt of it latching onto the edges of his subconscious.

You’re worthless, Bobby.

You think they care about you?

You will always be alone.

It will always be just you and me.

He doesn’t know how long he's sat there like that, but the room remains dark now even though someone draws the curtains. Bob shrinks back, as though the beam of moonlight spreading across his lap hurts him, doesn’t even look up when someone calls his name.

“Bob?”

He sighs, closes his eyes against the habitual burn of shame, that familiar heat creeping up his neck. Because he’s never wanted you to see him like this—so sad, so pathetic, wallowing in his own self-pity.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask carefully, and he doesn’t know if it’s better or worse when he hears you kneeling on the carpet in front of him.

He shakes his head.

“Okay,” you tell him gently, patiently, so kindly, “do you want me to leave?”

Please don’t. Don’t ever leave me alone, he wants to say, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he just shakes his head again. Despite himself, he’s somehow relieved when he feels the mattress dip slightly next to him, the warmth of your thigh dangerously close to his.

When he opens his eyes, the first thing he sees in the periphery of his vision is your hand, lying face up on your lap. It’s an invitation that’s too sweet for him to deny, and he slides his hand into yours, watching with a strange mixture of disbelief and euphoria as your fingers close around him.

That you would still want to touch him after seeing him like this. That he would find such comfort in the simple meeting of your palms.

His chin lifts when you turn, your other hand coming up to tuck a curtain of his hair behind his ear.

“Is this okay?” You whisper.

Bob nods, and for one treacherous moment he lets himself believe that you unconsciously seek him out too, that your hands itch to touch him just as his own do for you. And then you’re gathering him into your arms, and he follows without hesitation, falling into your embrace and burying his face into your shoulder.

He doesn’t know when he fell asleep but when he wakes, you’re still there.

“Hi,” you breathe, as though afraid you’ll disturb this peace if you speak any louder. Bob doesn’t tell you that he thinks he’ll only find peace if you’re around.

“Hi,” he whispers back, a smile lifting his lips as though you’re breathing life back into him. “Thank you.”

You don’t even hesitate. “Anytime.”

—

The first time you undress in front of him is, well, it’s not like that.

Because the entire time, Bob is furious. He wants to break something, feels the frustration crowding his lungs and resists the urge to just scream it out.

The whole team had frozen when he appeared in the doorway when they got home, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of you. One of your arms was slung around Ava’s shoulders as she propped you up, and your other hand was pressed gingerly to your ribcage.

There was a bruise blooming along your temple. Your lip had split in two places, and there was dried blood along your hairline. He could smell fresh blood in the air, even though he couldn’t see any open wounds.

John took a step toward him, one hand up in what seemed to be a placating gesture. “She’s okay, Bobby.”

“Okay?” Bob asked shakily, “she can barely stand.”

“She made it home alive, that’s all that matters,” Yelena reminded him, and while it was somewhat reassuring, it did little to quell the fire in his throat.

“She just needs to rest now,” Bucky told him, inhaling sharply when Bob’s jaw was clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might crack under the pressure.

“I’ll be fine, Bob,” you said quickly, smiling at him through your pain.

That was somehow worse than your physical injuries. Bob wanted to know then and there who did this to you, because he would unleash the full and unrestrained wrath of his powers if it meant avenging you, consequences be damned.

For the first time, he wanted to see something burn.

Ava cursed under her breath when Bob’s eyes flashed gold, but then you were asking him, “Help me to my room?”

Just like that, his eyes returned to their natural blue, and the room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

And now, as he stands in your room, his hands are shaking as he pulls a clean set of clothes from your dresser. You limp toward the en-suite bathroom, leaning one hand on the counter and breathing deeply through your nose as you try to peel off your soiled tact-suit.

The second you let out a hiss of pain when the movement tugs at your stitches, Bob is at your side in an instant. He pushes down the panic clawing at his throat, the one that won’t quite settle down even though you’re right here, alive and breathing.

But he can spiral later; you need him now.

Bob gently, so gently, brushes your hand away so he can reach for your zipper. You make eye contact with him in the mirror, nodding, and he swallows the lump in his throat as he slowly helps you out of your bloody clothes.

“I’m going to be fine, okay?” You repeat and he just nods, his hands skimming over your shoulder blades, down your arms, as he helps you undress. His breath hitches as your suit falls into a heap around your feet, when he finds the square of gauze taped over your midsection with a spot of dreaded crimson seeping through. There’s a matching one on your opposite side. “It was a through and through. Missed all vital organs, the doctor said. It’s basically a flesh wound.”

“I should have been there,” Bob finally says when he finds his voice.

“Hey…” you turn to face him, “this happens. It’s part of the job.”

“I can help,” he almost pleads. He presses your hand to the side of his face, trying to hide the sting of tears. “If I’d been there, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. None of you ever would.”

He hates it, that feeling of helplessness as he’s forced to stay behind in the Tower. But what he hates even more is the thought that one day, you or Yelena or any one of the team could die out there—and he’d be here, safe and sound even though he was the strongest out of all of you, twiddling his thumbs waiting for you to come back.

“Don’t say I’m not ready,” Bob bites back a sob as he drops his forehead to your bare shoulder, “I’m ready. I’ll always be ready to protect you.”

He’s just found you.

He can’t lose you now.

“I know,” you turn around and your eyes shining just as brightly as his are. “And we’ll protect you, too. I promise.”

Bob’s never doubted you before.

He won’t doubt you now, either.

—

The team never leaves Bob behind after that, and when he first tells you what’s in his heart, it’s a quiet, almost unassuming thing.

He hadn’t intended to, although he’s always wanted to.

He wanted to tell you when you all boarded the jet, full of nervous but cautiously optimistic energy now that Bob was with you. He found his spot next to you, ignoring John’s teasing quip and Alexei’s beaming smile, his arm pressed to yours on the armrest between your seats.

He wanted to tell you just before stepping off the plane, when you gave him a reassuring smile and a confident nod, like you were saying you’ve got this. He wanted to call it after you as you rushed into the fray, weapons raised and ready, the others following closely behind you.

He wanted to tell you when he stepped in front of you, absorbing the impact of a bullet aimed straight at your forehead. It bounced harmlessly off him with a high-pitched ping, didn’t even leave a single dent or red mark on his skin, but you still gasped behind him and cried out his name.

But he couldn’t think straight in that moment, could only think about eliminating anything and anyone who’d try to take you from him.

He wanted to tell it to you on the plane ride home, when you brushed his hair back to double and triple check the spot where he’d been hit, undeterred by the splatters of someone else’s blood on his suit.

Bob thought about the man it belonged to. He hadn’t set out to kill anybody, but if that was the price he had to pay to keep you alive… well then, he’d pay it again and again.

“It didn’t hurt at all?” You asked. “Are you sure?”

He smiled, full of affection, exhaling on something of a laugh, “I’m invincible, remember?”

“That we know of,” you didn’t return his smile, “please, don’t do that again.”

Bob didn’t answer, because he knew he couldn’t promise that. Even if he could, it’s not like he ever would.

He wants to tell it to you when you pull him into your room the second you get home, standing close enough that he can count the stars reflected in your eyes.

He wants to tell you everything right now, everything he’s held onto so tightly all this time because he didn’t think that he ever deserved this.

Bob’s been made his whole life to think that this was never in the stars for him. The Void in his chest, the one that he manages somehow to keep at bay most days, still whispers it to him. Still sneers at him for even entertaining the idea he could ever have it, let alone with someone as good as you.

Then you kiss him. Just a peck, the briefest meeting of lips at first. You look up at him searchingly, waiting for him to push you away or say this is a mistake, but he would never. So long as you want it, he’d give you anything.

He’s the one to initiate your second kiss, more firmly this time, with the reverence of a man who believes he would never get to do this again. You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pull him closer and closer until your chests are touching.

“Invincible, maybe,” you whisper once you pull away, your voice wobbly as you breathe the words into the quiet space between you, “but not replaceable. Not to me.”

Bob feels something crack open inside him then. He buries his nose in the junction of where your neck and shoulder met, hot tears dripping down the delicate curve there and soaking into your shirt.

He wants more, to let his body tell you what he can’t yet bring himself to say, but finds himself almost afraid of it. It has been a while since he’s been this close, this intimate, with someone he genuinely cares about. Maybe even longer since he’s done it with a clear head.

But you seem content to just hold him, like that first time, as though it doesn’t make him near desperate with want and weak with affection all at the same time. And later, before sleep can claim the both of you, he carries you to the bathroom to wash up. The two of you stay in the tub long after you are clean.

Steam curls into the air, hot water rippling as Bob sits behind you, caging you between his arms as you lean back comfortably against the sturdy planes of his chest.

He says it to you then, murmurs into your skin that he’s found love here.

Bob almost can’t believe it when you say it back.

That night, he falls asleep in your arms again, the side of his head pressed to your chest, listening to the steady beating of your heart against his ear.

The darkness in his own begins to recede that much further with each reassuring thump, as though chased away by the dawning of the morning sun.

And you.

Always you.

FIN.

Notes: There’s been a lot of discourse lately about how Bob’s character is or has been written since Thunderbolts* came out. I only hope I did him justice somewhat; there’s so much we still don’t know about him. Choose kindness when interacting with each other. (I will not budge on the stutter thing, though. Note that having a stutter and the occasional nervous stammer in high-tension situations are not the same thing.)

© 2025 by thereoncewasagirlnamedjane. Do not repost, translate, or copy to third party sites. No part of this work may be fed into any AI software or websites. Minors are asked not to interact with my blog; you are responsible for your own media consumption. Blank/ageless blogs will be blocked.

[stellawish]

the sweetest thing

i’m just obsessed with dad!gojo :> genre: fluff, domestic life pairing: dad!gojo x mom!reader

"...3, 4, 5. Here are our little fingers! Om-nom-nom!" You hear your son giggled. Seeing his reaction, Satoru continued, "Mmm so delicious! Ah, those cheeks! I’m gonna eat them now" He poked the baby's cheeks and began to smooch them. In response, the little boy was covered with another wave of giggles.

Satoru heard you enter the bedroom and turned with a gentle smile. You climbed onto the large bed and lay down on your stomach, right next to them. You gently stroked the soft white hair on your son's head while Satoru continued to shower his plump belly with kisses and tickling. The kid saw you and pulled his chubby little hands in your direction. In his eyes, you saw a plea, help me mommy!

You giggled and touched Satoru's shoulder. He raised his head and looked at you with his rosy cheeks. His lips folded into a smile. He looked absolutely beautiful.

You couldn't resist and reached out to him for a kiss. He met you halfway. Your lips gently touched. The kiss expressed gratitude for the gift of happiness and love. Your hand lightly stroked his shoulder.

In the background your baby cooed, and you briefly separated. You pecked his lips once more and then turned your attention to your little boy. His long white eyelashes fluttered a couple of times, and he smiled toothlessly at you, exposing his dimples.

You poked his chubby cheek with your finger and cooed, "Aren't you the cutest baby in the whole world?" He caught your finger in his little palm and squealed. Satoru lightly tickled his exposed tummy, and the baby giggled

"Satoru, stop pestering him! My poor baby," you exclaimed.

He whined back, "But babe, I can't! Look at him! Our baby is so cute and so squishy I wanna eat him." To prove his words, Gojo bit the little boy's chubby thigh. Your baby squeaked.

Maybe it's biased, but you do think that your baby is the most precious baby you've ever seen.

You cooed while kissing his little hand. "You look so much like Daddy! I carried you in my tummy for 9 months, but even shape of your nails are exactly like his." You feigned resentment and pouted.

Satoru wrapped his right arm around you and continued to whine."But baby, is it so bad that he looks like me? Look." He moved his face closer to his son’s and said,

"Look, aren’t we the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life?" His eyebrows expressed sadness, but you could see mischief in his blue eyes.

He batted his white eyelashes a couple of times, and his pink lips twitched and stretched into a wide smile; his dimples became even more noticeable. To his left, the exact same smiling eyes, thin nose, and dimples looked at you.

Of course, it was the sweetest thing you've ever seen.

more dad!gojo HERE

hey guys! this is my first work here so please be nice) English isn’t my first language so there could be some grammar errors etc.

dividers by 2. @enchanthings

all rights reserved ©stellawish. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Piece of you- L.MN

SURPRISE!! Today is a triple special day for me, so let's get started

First of all, it's my babygirl @sweetlifeofjoy 's bday!! Happy birthday, Nari! I hope you have a wonderful day, surrounded by those you love and I wish a lot of happiness 😊 And thanks for making my day a lot funnier whenever we talk... or flirt haha

Now, the second thing I wanna celebrate, it's Minho's debut on this blog yay! I tried to make something very Lee Know coded here, I guess it's giving off his vibes. I hope you all like it

And last but not least, I want to celebrate the 700 of us. I didn't even have time to thank you for 600 so consider that a combo. I am really really grateful for each one of you. Really. You make my little heart very happy 💜🤭

Word count: 1.0k

No warnings

Alexa, play Ink by Coldplay

Minho had been gone less than a day when you found the first note.

It was tucked beneath your toothbrush, folded into a tiny triangle with a doodle on the front— a cat  version of him, with exaggerated pouty lips and two big bright eyes that he asked Hyunjin to sketch. Underneath, in his unmistakable handwriting, it said:

“Miss me yet?”

You laughed, even if your chest ached a little. Opening it, you could listen to his voice in the ink.

“Brush your teeth, sleepyhead. I’m not there to kiss you good morning, but I still expect fresh breath when I call”.

You stood there for a long moment, grinning down at the paper, toothbrush forgotten.

The next one showed up that afternoon, in the hoodie you stole from his wardrobe. You slipped your hand into the front pocket and felt it— another folded piece of paper. This one had small hearts all over it and a simple message:

“Wear this one often. It smells like me. I gave it a final hug before I left. You're welcome”

You giggled, hugging the hoodie tighter.

Minho had always been the quiet type when it came to words, more teasing than tender, but it felt like he had left tiny pieces of himself all over the apartment just to keep you company.

Every day you found a new one. One was taped to the coffee jar:

“Drink water too. No, coffee doesn’t count. Neither does bubble tea. I'm watching you”

Another slid out from between your laptop screen and keyboard:

“Take breaks. Don’t sit there for six hours straight or I will find out”

And then there was the one beneath his favorite mug:

“Play our playlist. Skip the sad ones unless you’re missing me a lot. If you do listen to them, please don’t cry while holding my mug. It’s bad for the aesthetic”.

They were scattered everywhere— beneath your pillow, taped to the ice cream lid in the freezer, inside the pages of your current book. Each one perfectly timed, each one so Minho. 

One, though, made you stop in your tracks and cackle like a hyena. It was taped to the front of the air fryer, written in red ink:

“I SWEAR TO GOD if you break my air fryer while I’m gone, I will haunt you. Not gently. I’m talking about flickering lights and mysterious cat hair in your cereal”

And then, like the cherry on top, a tiny postscript:

“(Miss you though. Please eat something that isn’t chips)”

You shook your head, grinning like an idiot. Only Lee Minho could threaten you with ghostly vengeance and still make your heart flutter.

Another note had been left on the windowsill where the cats loved to take a nap. This one was softer, written with a little paw print doodle in the back:

“Tell Soonie he’s in charge. Doongie gets extra head kisses. And Dori… can’t be trusted, so watch him”

“If they look at you dramatically and cry like they’re starving, remember: they are liars. Do not fall for it. But also… maybe give them a snack anyway”

“If they sit on your lap, don’t you dare move. I don’t care if your leg goes numb. That’s the price of love”

“PS: If you fall asleep with them like that… just know I’m gonna be insanely jealous. But also please take a picture so I can melt over it for five minutes and then pretend I’m not crying in the tour van”

You were crying laughing by the end of that one.

Each note was like a breadcrumb trail leading you right back to him, even while he was miles away.

But the note that made you sit down and press a hand to your chest, was under his pillow.

You only found it on the third day. You weren’t even looking, you were just making the bed out of habit, and there it was— thicker than the rest.

You sat on the bed and unfolded it slowly, heart stuttering.

“This one’s for the nights that feel heavy”

“You don’t have to be okay just because I’m not there to see it. I know you’re strong, but I also know you. So cry if you need to. Eat ice cream for dinner. Watch that movie we’ve seen a hundred times”

“Then call me in the morning. I’ll listen to every word. You don’t have to do this alone. You never have to”

By the time Minho called you that night, the notes were lined up across the wall, like a paper mosaic. 

He appeared on your phone screen, hair damp from shower

 “Wow”, he said when he saw the background, “I didn’t think you’d actually keep them”

You rolled your eyes, pulling the hoodie tighter around you. “Shut up, you wrote them! You thought I’d read them and toss them in the trash?”

“I mean, yeah”, he said, “That’s what you do with my texts”

“I react with a heart to them!”

Minho looked at you, inexpressible

“You reacted with a heart to ‘did you eat?’ like it was a love confession”

You bit back a grin, “Wasn’t it?”

He paused, pretending to think, then nodded. “Well, you are right. I’m very romantic”

You laugh softly before confessing, “Damn, I miss you”

“Yeah”, he said, rubbing the towel over his hair, “If I were you, I’d miss me too”.

You let out a loud, theatrical gasp and flopped dramatically back onto the bed like you’d just been betrayed.

“I can’t believe this! I’m dating a menace. An actual menace”

He blinked at the screen, “You’re so dramatic”

“You’re not even pretending to miss me!”

Minho shook his head in disbelief, “You’re wearing my hoodie, laying on my pillow, surrounded by my notes and you’re gonna sit there and act like I don’t miss you?”

You were still pouting

He rolled his eyes

“I miss you so much it's annoying” he said, “Happy now?”

“No! You said it was annoying!”

“Because I’m annoyed at myself, he grumbled, “For being this whipped”

You grinned.

“Say it again”

“No”

“Say it!”

Minho sighed like he felt physical pain

“I miss you”, he muttered, “More than the cats. But don't tell them that”

You melted instantly.

“See?” You are romantic indeed”

He huffed, but his smile lasted— warm, bright and entirely yours.

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

Taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep , @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts , @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin

[mollygrass]

I’m not supposed to be writing but I just felt like it so here we go.

Preacher girl

Part Two

Remmick x Female reader

Word count: 2k

Summary: After being humiliated by your friends for still being a virgin, the outcast of town who only comes out during night helps you solve your little problem.

Warnings & Tags: religious themes, religious virgin reader in early 20s, loser and awkward Remmick, praise kink, corruption kink, smut

A/n: This has only been proofread once, so sorry for any grammatical errors. Please enjoy :)

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺ ‧⁺ ‧

Everyone in town avoids his house like it’s the bubonic plague. As if crossing paths on its lawn will soil their skin or taint their holiness. Well, everyone except for you.

In all your sweet graceness, you always visit him during the day and night. A freshly baked apple pie or Sunday supper in your hands as a token of your kindness. You always knock at his door here and there. Some days he answers the door, other days the odd man doesn’t. It never matters to you because you have a heart full of gold and love.

The fatherly God says to love all. Even outcasted, weird neighbors down the street who don't dare step foot in Sunday church. You find it unholy of your fellow neighbors who turn their noses up at the poor fella.

Today at the crack of night isn’t like other days when you bring him a gift of kindness and care. This time around your hands are empty and a long frown drags your lips down. You knock at his door, praying to God he opens up. You desperately need someone to chat with about the events from last night.

Still, their words, mean and nasty echo throughout your head. It’s been that way all during the day and you can’t take it anymore.

“Wow, aren’t you a bit too old?”

“Yeah…I mean who even waits till marriage anymore these days?”

“Aww. Guys stop it! Y’all know she can’t help herself. Afterall, she’s, sweet-ole preacher girl.”

Your friends proceeded to laugh in your face at the diner. Their voices so loud the guys sitting steps away heard it all. Each and every little detail of the humiliating discussion. Usually it doesn’t matter who overhears but the guy you’ve been crushing on for years was there at the neighboring booth.

Shaking away the awful memories, your eyes glance up from your dress shoes at the door. It creaks open in a small crack. Through the small opening a pair of eyes meet yours. Moon light dimly reveals his upper features as most of the wooden door hides the rest.

“Yes?” His voice comes quiet and meek from behind the door.

Eyes fluttering, you wipe away tears threatening to fall. “G-Good evening, Remmick. I was wondering if I could come in and chat with you?”

He remains unmoved, still hiding behind the door. There’s a long silent pause. Crickets and nightly creatures hum as you wait for an answer.

But a verbal answer never comes, only the door hinges whining as the door opens wider. Remmick’s upper half blends in with the shadows of his house. Only his wrinkly slacks and dress shoes show in the light pouring in from outside.

“Thank you.”

The door closes with a soft click behind you. You hear his feet creak across the floor before light illuminates everywhere after a swift click.

As usual, Remmick disappears into the kitchen and you trail after him. But this time there’s not a skip in your step. Instead your shoulders slouch as you drag your feet. He doesn’t miss it either because his decaying wooden floors would have been screaming under your happy feet.

“Would you like some ice tea?”

You weakly nod, plopping down in the creaky old chair.

He pours you a nice glass of cool lemonade flavored tea and sits it down in front you. Then opposite to you he joins sitting at the table.

Again, another awkward silence falls between you two. He never is the chatter box, no, that trait belongs to you. Not to mention, Remmick doesn’t know what to say. Normally he doesn’t expect visitors this late at night. Especially from you who rarely visits at night.

He clears his dry throat, hands fidgeting together awkwardly. “So…uh…what was it you wanted to talk about?”

Your eyes never leave the glass of ice tea. Lips cracking open in a quiver. “My friends, they humiliated me, Remmick.” Your voice cracks.

He startles, eyes blinking as concern and confusion knits his brows upward. “How’d they do that?”

Sniffling, wiping tears away, face burning hot; you ready yourself for what comes next.

“I’m untouched…you know…waiting til marriage.”

“Oh.”

Remmick’s eyes flicker around anywhere but on you. Blood rises in his sickly pale cheeks. You can’t tell if he’s judging or uncomfortable with the topic at hand.

“And, a guy I like was nearby and heard. It was so embarrassing, you know?”

His face drains of red and his features become blank. Unreadable. A dark glimmer crosses his eyes for a second. Then it’s gone as he just stares at you.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. Like you said you’re waiting til marriage.”

“Yeah, but I want it to be him and he snickered at me with his friends, Remmick.”

His jaw clenches at his name casually and idly rolling off your tongue.

“Well, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

His voice is firm. No longer soft and delicate. You fail to notice it though.

“But what if he doesn’t? My friends say no one waits that long anymore. They say I’ll never even get married because of it.”

Remmick’s nails tap on the table, his head lazily rests in one hand. His glare burns holes in your skull. The more and more you talk he finds it difficult to calm himself. What you said earlier is making him itch with irritation.

“So, is this what you really came to me to talk about at night? I was sweetly dreaming, you know?”

His words sting hot and cut deep. Finally you gaze up from the untouched sweet tea. Slowly, his words sink into your mind.

You blink. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Remmick never acts in such a manner towards you. Never. It’s part of the reason you always visit him. He’s a good listening ear and never judges you. Tonight for some odd reason he is.

Why?

“Yes…I mean, I would’ve came in the morning but I couldn’t get it out my mind and—”

“And what am I supposed to do about this problem?” He sharply snaps.

“I-I just wanted to talk. I-I’m s-sorry, Remmick.”

He stands from the chair. His shadow

envelopes you from where you sit.

“Talking ain’t gonna solve that. You’re better off keeping it to yourself.”

The next words that slip out your sweet mouth are all impulsive, no thinking behind them. Purely rooted in adrenaline.

“Then help me! If you’re unholy as the town says, help me fix this problem!”

Remmick just stares at you. He’s stiff, as if trapped in a trance. Lips gaping, eyes wide with shock.

Your face boils hot and tears gather in your eyes. You begin wondering maybe coming to your odd neighbor isn’t the brightest idea. But when his tall stature hovers over you, the idea shatters to fragments of nothingness.

His palm rests on the table, supporting him as he leans in your space.

“You sure that’s what you really want, darlin?” He rasps.

You audibly gulp. Darlin. Remmick never calls you such a name. Let alone invade your personal bubble as he’s doing now.

You hesitantly nod, soaking in the sinful glint in his brown round eyes.

………………

His every touch feels tainting. As if the sin everyone in town says engulfs him is spreading like a plague across wherever Remmick touches.

In a bedroom, you assume he sleeps in, you lay on a bed. The mattress is soft and fluffy against your back. The room smells of an odd scent. One reminiscent of a dry iron stench and old drywall. You ignore it, or better yet you barely notice it. Halfway naked in only panties and a bra is too much of a shameful distraction.

And of course him.

He’s between your open, trembling legs. Just like you his chest is bare with only his underwear on.

Every kiss he litters across your skin blazes in flames and with each one you pray for the lord’s forgiveness.

“Relax,” he breathes. Voice low and hot.

You don’t say anything and try to obey him. Inhale out. Exhale out. You repeat this process like a broken record as his rough calloused hands explores your body.

He enjoys the way your soft skin, pure and unexplored, feels under his touch. Remmick always does wonder what it feels like. Especially when you come over in more exposing clothes. Now he knows.

There’s only one thing bugging him like an irritating itch beneath his skin. How incredibly stiff your limbs become wherever he graces your body.

His smooth movements halt. An intense hunger pools in his eyes as he hovers you. “We can always stop.”

“No, I want to keep going,” you mutter, voice shaking.

“Then promise me you’ll relax.”

You avoid his gaze and nod.

The mattress sinks in at the sides of your head.

“Look at me, now.”

The simple command draws your attention to him. You don’t know why but it just does.

“I want you to say it, okay, darlin?”

Darlin. That word again. It makes your heart drum and butterflies dance in your belly. Worst of all, down below where the lord forbids, an aching heat spreads. A poor sweet thing like you, so holy and innocent, it drives you insane.

“I-I promise.”

He huffs a laugh and a smirk pulls his lips back. “Good girl.”

He leans back down and continues the ungodly acts. Something warm and wet glides across your neck to the tip of your chin. You gasp, unknowingly, eyes sealed closed.

“Maybe if you open your eyes you’ll know what’s coming next.” His breath hits your ear.

Your spine arches, face jolting away from him. “I can’t look. I don’t want to look. I-I just can’t, Remmick,” you stammer.

“Fine, have it your way, darlin.”

He continues lapping his tongue across your skin all over. From your neck, stomach and thighs. It leaves you a trembling hot mess. Confusion and a sinful desire to be further touched by him clouds your mind.

Remmick easily discards your bra and panties somewhere on the floor beside the bed. Your hand covers your throbbing cunt while your other arm hides your breast.

He sighs. You’re unbelievable, truly. He finds it cute but slightly annoying. Your little shy antics only makes his greed to ruin you grow stronger.

“Stop hiding or I’ll tie your wrist to the headboard’s rails.”

“What?” Your eyes shoot wide open. A new fear arising.

“You heard me, now be a good girl and listen.”

Just like that you obey him.

Softly he envelopes one breast in a hand, fingers pinching the hardening bud. His mouth occupies your other breast. The sensation tears a loud moan past your lips as your back arches, puffing your chest outward. His teeth and tongue are mean and cruel, bullying your poor nipple.

Your chest heaves in uneven rhythms. Waves of heat bring a new type of ungodliness between your shaky thighs. Your cunt pulses; wet slick coats all over down there.

“R-Remmick…Remmick.”

“Hmm?” He hums, still toying with your breast.

“I f-feel weird,” you choke out through breathy pants.

Then something happens and as it does your body is a quivering leaf in the wind. A loud whiny moan fills the bedroom as you cum.

He gives your abused nipple one last savoring suck before releasing it with a pop. It glistens, wet and swollen. Saliva pools at his chin on one side as he stares down at you. A crimson glow glints in his half-lidded eyes. Teeth, sharp and long peeks between the cracks of his lips.

“So fucking beautiful,” be breathes before gulping bottled excessive salvia in his mouth. “I always longed for this. I always wondered what would make you cum fast, but I never imagined just your nipples would do the trick.”

A blurry haze fogs your brain and his words don’t register. As you stare back up at him, you notice a difference. Those round, worrying puppy-like eyes are gone. The awkward, quiet, timid neighbor from down the street is no longer there. This man above you isn’t him. It can’t be him because this imposter reeks of what the Bible teaches you to stay away from.

Is this what everyone else in town sees in him when you couldn’t?

You blink once. Remmick’s still there, eyes dark and lustful. You blink twice. He’s gone.

At least that’s what you naively thought until you feel him buried between your thighs. Elbows supporting his weight as his hands firmly hook around your legs. He holds you right where he wants you.

The fog shatters as his mouth latches onto your cunt. Instinctly you try to close your thighs but his iron grip prevents it. So, instead your hands run through his silky short curls. You grab bundles of his curls in your fist, body squirming uncontrollably.

He just hums in delight. Your cunt’s juices are a forbidden honey on his tongue. No matter how much he sucks, digs his tongue deep, he can’t get enough of it.

He slowly draws away, eyes nearly rolling back. “Fuck, I’m gonna lose control. I’m trying not to because if I do I’m afraid I’ll break you, darlin.”

The only response he earns in return from you is a weak mewl.

“Fuck it, you wanted this anyways. You can take it just like the good girl you are.”

He no longer wears underwear. His cock stands proud and hard as he guides it to your throbbing hole. The tip kisses your entrance. Then it pushes in, nowhere deep between your warm walls yet.

Your hands grasp around the mattress as pain screams through your cunt.

“Mmm, Remmick it hurts.”

He leans down, closing the space between you two. One arm rests above your head while the other holds your hips in place. His forehead lightly touches yours. His breaths are uneven, and sloppy.

“Yeah, I know.” He pecks your nose and then kisses your lips. “It’ll only hurt for a bit, darlin. So, please bear with me.”

He kisses you again. This time it’s long and passionate. You kiss him back, lost in the moment forgetting he’s even halfway inside. He gains easy access inside your mouth when he bites your bottom lip. His tongue explores everywhere before battling with your smaller tongue.

He takes advantage of your distraction and thrusts his hips. Your sweet moans muffle, filling his mouth instead. The chains holding Remmick back break loose. Any and all control he holds is gone to the winds. His hips don’t stop, never giving your walls a chance to get used to his size.

His lips pull away from yours and a long thread of saliva connects your them. The rhythm of his thrusts is even and controlled. Your walls squeeze deliciously tight around him. It drives him nearly insane.

Each pump of his cock, pain fades away slowly but surely. Your breaths become messier and heavier. The idea of sin or anything with God serves no justice in your brain. All you can think about is how good Remmick’s cock feels deep inside you.

His groans mix together with your loud whiny moans that evolve more sluttier bouncing off the walls in the bedroom.

“Oh…my…God…so good…Oh, Remmick.” Your words utter out, a tangling mess.

“I know, darlin. I know. It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm.” You nod, plump lips in pout.

He chuckles as a wicked idea brews in his mind. Remmick leans back and throws your legs over his shoulders.

“I bet this’ll make ya feel extra good.” He licks lips.

His cock digs deeper. It hits a certain sweet spot. Again and again. Pleasure sends shock waves through your entire body. It feels so good you see stars in your hazy vision. He leans in closers and your knees ghost over your breast.

“Look at you,” he says in awe. “So pretty folded underneath me and taking my cock so well. Such a good girl.”

You don’t even respond. You can’t. Not with the way he’s crushing you to a crumbled mess.

A goody two shoes like you never expected your first time to happen this way. In fact even though you shouldn’t have imagined it, you sometimes would. In your innocent little head, you always fantasized it would happen the day of your marriage as a wife. Yet here you are being pounded by the town’s unholy outcast at midnight.

Noises of skin slapping and slick squelching fill the room. His and your skin glistens with salty sweat. Remmick’s thrusts are sloppy, hungry and needy. He chases his orgasm along with you. Under his breath he mumbles lewd sayings as you cry out, nearly close to cumming.

A few more sharp, fast pumps and you two cum together. Your fingers fist the sheets and your back arches. His warm milky seed fills you up as he rides out his orgasm, still bucking his hips. He milks himself dry.

His shaky breath is loud as his shoulders slump. Underneath him, you lay half conscious, half awake. Marks decorate your naked frame from head to toe. He carrasses the marks, savoring the mess he made of you.

Someone as holy and devoted to God as you ruined by someone unusual, wicked and unworthy of the sun’s love. Oh, how pride swells his chest.

“I always wanted to make you mine, but was afraid of tainting your beautiful light. But now I’m even more afraid I can’t let you go after all this, darlin.”

You don’t know, innocently drifting off to sleep, but your freedom is no longer yours. Your lovely, graceful God abandons you now. No one can save you now. Not from the talons of Remmick, a man as ancient as time itself.

If only you knew visiting the man down the street no one talks to wasn’t a good idea.

If only.

If only.

Now you will live a life of hellish despair

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺ ‧⁺ ‧

[duvetchico]

i love you.

summary y/n isn’t the affectionate type, but one night while cuddling, she finally says “i love you” for the first time. jimin melts on the spot, grinning like an idiot as they fall asleep tangled up in each other.

genre fluff / soft romance

pairing yu jimin x fem!reader

masterlist.

it’s not that you don’t love her. you’ve loved her since maybe the third date, when she smiled at you over spicy ramen and told you you had a little seaweed stuck in your teeth. you’ve loved her since she started showing up outside your apartment with hot drinks on cold days. you’ve loved her since she started folding your laundry without asking, memorized your coffee order, kissed the back of your hand while waiting for the subway.

you’ve loved her for so long. you just haven’t said it.

and jimin never asked you to. not directly.

but sometimes, when you fall asleep on her shoulder mid-movie and she stays perfectly still just so you don’t wake up— or when she buys the brand of snacks you like even though she says they taste like cardboard— or when she kisses your temple and says, “i like being yours”— you feel it. you feel her wondering if you love her back.

you do. god, you do.

-

the day starts slow.

you’re in your hoodie and fuzzy socks. she’s in your hoodie and your fuzzy socks. neither of you are winning.

you’d planned to be productive—laundry, maybe some grocery shopping, finally getting around to vacuuming—but then jimin came over, and suddenly all your plans evaporated the moment she flopped onto your couch and opened her arms like a spoiled cat.

"come cuddle me," she demanded.

"you have legs," you said, not even looking up from your phone.

"i also have abandonment issues, get over here."

and like. you folded. obviously.

cut to now: the two of you are curled up on your tiny couch, blanket burrito’d, a candle flickering on the coffee table for ✨aesthetic✨, and some dumb cartoon playing in the background purely for background noise.

you’re spooning her from behind, arms around her waist, your cheek squished against her back. she keeps giggling every time your cold nose brushes her spine and makes her shiver.

"your nose is literally a weapon," she grumbles, but her hand's stroking your knuckles like she’s trying to memorize every line.

"shut up, you like it," you mumble.

she makes a little hmm sound but doesn't argue.

at one point she shifts to face you, noses almost touching, and whispers, “can i kiss you?”

you roll your eyes, “when do you ever ask?”

“i’m trying to be respectful of your boundaries,” she says with an innocent smile.

you kiss her before she can say anything else.

then it’s quiet again. peaceful. soft breathing, soft hearts. she tugs you closer until your leg’s thrown over hers and your hand’s splayed against her side like it’s always belonged there.

and it’s in the middle of that silence, when her eyelashes flutter and her breath catches a little from how close you are, that it slips out—

“…i love you.”

she blinks. stills. then blinks again.

“…you what?” she says, voice already climbing three octaves in shock.

you freeze. you were so comfortable and now you're gonna spontaneously combust.

“i said i love you,” you mumble again, voice half-muffled into her collarbone. “don’t make it weird.”

she literally squeals and starts kicking her feet like a five-year-old.

“NOOOOOOOOO,” she screeches, hugging you so hard you genuinely choke. “YOU SAID IT FIRST OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDD.”

“you’re so annoying,” you cough. “let me breathe.”

“you love me,” she says again in this high-pitched little voice, kissing your cheeks repeatedly. “you love me. you love me. i’m gonna write this in my diary.”

“you have a diary?”

“NO BUT I’LL GET ONE.”

she’s so damn happy that it almost makes you cry.

like she's smiling so hard her eyes disappear and she keeps whispering "i can't believe it" like you just gave her the moon.

later, when your ramen’s ready, she feeds you bites even though your hands work just fine. she wipes a noodle stain off your chin like you’re a toddler. she holds your hand while watching youtube videos, thumb tracing lazy circles.

and right before you both knock out on the couch again, limbs tangled and teeth brushed and everything feeling safe, she says it one more time—

“i love you too, by the way. like. so much it’s embarrassing.”

you hum. kiss her temple.

“yeah,” you whisper.

“me too.”

[serendipitous-seven]

baby if i fall | singledad!Jungkook x f!reader | "I Can't Wait..." series

summary: For nearly a year, you and Jungkook have enjoyed the blissful tidings of your new relationship. But it isn’t long before reality rears its ugly head, forcing you to face your insecurities head-on when Jungkook makes it apparent what steps he is ready to take while you present one of your own that has him squirming. Meanwhile, Mai begins to show signs of unexplained distress. With life hurling the three of you into uncharted territory, you and Jungkook begin to question if you will make it over this obstacle.

pairing: dad!Jungkook x f!reader genre: sequel, domestic au, angst, fluff rating: pg-15 word count: 21.5k tags/warnings: This is a sequel so to understand the storyline I highly advise you read the first part, linked below :] This fic is built around themes of insecurities about physical intimacy. STILL SFW as there are no explicit scenes of such, but there will be dialogue concerning those topics. Romance through out i.e. heavy kissing in two scenes, ‘sex’ is mentioned in a few conversations, a conversation between reader and reader’s mom regarding sex & intimacy. A verbal argument/a bit of yelling, unhealthy communication, Mai experiences distress in several scenes, bullying, topics of absent mother, Mai hits a classmate [it gets resolved], heavy crying, emotional distress through out.

singledad!JK series mlist | make sure you have read the first part before proceeding here

Please proceed by own discretion and caution as these themes can be triggering or uncomfortable for some. While the content is still SFW, I ask minors DNI.

a/n: So here I am with a refreshed sequel, edited and cried over because I still love this little family of mine. It was odd reading this in my current circumstances and feeling heartbreak all the same. It really made me realize and feel proud of how much I just love to write, it makes me feel things nothing else does. Maybe I won’t be healed completely by a story let alone my own, or characters who learn how to respect one another and learn each other’s love languages - but I am learning that this kind of love can truly exist outside of mere fanfiction. I believe in it even if it didn’t find me like I thought it did. I’m growing stronger with time, and I’m really happy I stepped out of my dark hole to edit this and present it. Pls handle it with care, I really put my heart into each fic, whether it’s brand new or re-posted work <3 This is me giving you all a piece of me.

This bliss is addictive, sitting in Jungkook’s arms while your families go on about random things. A silent moment of gratitude sits as intertwined smiles on both of your faces, taking it all in. Both fathers advise you on investing in stocks as Princess Mai is entertained by Jungkook’s mom, “Hamny,” and your mother, “Nunu,” who act as her faithful guards fighting against the imaginary dragon intruding upon their backyard.

Everyone is happy and at ease, obsessed with seeing you and Jungkook together.

“The family that always should have been,” according to Mrs. Jeon. Jungkook shakes his head when she says that but hearing it leaves a fluttering in his chest.

Jungkook’s hand is wrapped around yours as he drives home with a sleeping Mai in the backseat. You both giggle when she snores, almost waking herself up.

Once back at their house, you win a playful fight against Jungkook to carry Mai to bed. You live for this despite her getting a little heavier with every inch she grows.

She moans and groans as you help a very zombified Mai change into her pajamas and brush her teeth before tucking her into bed. Usually the chatty one, she manages to butterfly a kiss onto your nose before rolling over, instantly falling back to sleep, her even breathing filling the silence of her room.

Jungkook is waiting at the door, lost in a dreamy haze after watching it all. He still has to pinch himself, wondering how on earth he managed to get you. Not only as his best friend, which he would have happily kept it that way, because having you was better than not, but to have you and be able to tell you with his entire being, ‘I love you.’ Nothing beats that. Watching you get his daughter ready for bed not only now, but the way you’ve handled her with care for all of these years, it is so different. There is an extra layer of love you have to offer. He wonders if he only sees it now because your mutual love for each other manifests in a new and intimate way. He finds himself unable to fully grasp the feelings that you continue to stir inside of him.

You tie your arms around his neck once he closes Mai’s door, and he kisses you; “Can you take care of me like that?” He teases against your lips. You roll your eyes, returning his affection. Jungkook carefully walks the two of you toward his bedroom. Too lost in him, you don’t question where he is headed until the back of your knees collide with his bed.

It’s only then that you stutter, pulling away from his kiss, but he has an ardent need to show you how much he loves you.

“Jungkook,” you start when he moves his lips across your cheek, pressing them along your jaw, down to the valley of your neck. You gasp, and only then does he stop, his face red with passion.

“You okay?” He chuckles, squeezing your waist with his hands.

“Um, yes-” you waver, but Jungkook, too caught in the moment, takes that as the go-ahead and continues; “a-and no.”

His breath stills, and he stops again. You look up at him with shaking eyes as he looks down at you, riddled with confusion and concern. You move your hands over his chest, staring at his shirt, “I um- I-I’m not ready for this, not yet.”

He understands right away, stumbling back to put distance between the two of you. “Oh,” his voice trembles and his hands drop to his sides, “th-that’s okay, I’m sorry, I-uh I shouldn’t have assumed-”

You rub his arms to assure him you aren’t offended, kissing his cheek. It’s awkward though, neither of you can deny it, hands loosely holding the other as he walks you to your car.

“You can still spend the night-” he starts, but you turn and offer him an empathetic smile, touching his cheek.

“I think we need to cool off.” You chuckle, feeling embarrassed, “Wouldn’t it be kind of insensitive for me to stay with you tonight?”

He melts at the feel of your warm palm against his cheek, snorting. He looks at you with an arched brow, “Why, because I can’t resist you?”

You shrug with a pressed smile, “You tell me.” The exchange is awkward, and Jungkook can see the tightness on your face.

He pulls you in for a hug, kissing the side of your head. You feel shivers up and down your spine when he breathes next to your ear. “I love you, okay?”

You breathe the same words, hugging your boyfriend a little tighter.

Driving home, it’s all you can think about. It isn’t a question of wanting to. You want to. But knowing Jungkook for as long as you have has also meant knowing his life, too much of it.

You scoff out loud, cursing your very thoughts. ‘Can I measure up to those women? Will I be different enough for him to want to commit to me forever?’ It haunts you.

You feel sick and force yourself to think of something else, anything else but that.

“I have a parent-teacher conference with Mai’s teacher on Friday,” Jungkook sighs, his hand stroking your arm. You rest back against his chest, the two of you squashed into a lounge chair while Mai runs around the yard with their new dog, Bam. Every time you see the large Doberman, you want to laugh; Jungkook is never short of surprises and last-minute decisions. You should know that by now.

“Is that why you seemed so wound up tonight?” You tip your head to get a better view of him.

He shuts his eyes, grinning, “On top of this move, yeah, I guess so.” You can feel his body tense up from stress. You turn in his lap, swiping your hand back through his newly, box-dyed hair- another thing you could laugh at if he wasn’t so pressed at the moment, “Did she get in trouble?”

“Depending on how that meeting goes, she may be in trouble with me,” his eyes wander to find his daughter lying flat on the grass, Bam’s generous licks coating her face in kisses. Mai shrieks, carefully pushing Bam away before she’s running again.

“Even though working my business from home now gives me more time to be with you guys, I can’t help her as much with homework like I used to,” your eyes follow Mai’s erratic jaunt throughout the backyard, unable to keep the smile away for too long while you watch her, “maybe she needs a tutor.”

Jungkook pats your thighs, whispering, “I don’t know,” before he tells his daughter it’s time to go in and start her night routine.

Mai sprints past her dad and into your arms, wrapping you in a death-defying grip around your waist. Jungkook’s face blushes at the sight, body overtaken by butterflies, a feeling he’s become used to. He rubs his chest as he watches you walk backward with Mai as she warns you that you’ll run into something, guiding you back into the house.

“Are you spending the night?” Mai asks once inside the house, releasing you.

You brush her hair back behind her shoulders, holding her chin in your hand, “Mhm, so go brush your teeth, bean, then I’ll tuck you in.”

Mai’s face beams with a smile much like her dad’s. Jungkook smiles to himself, listening to the two of you banter while he cleans off the dining room table.

“How come you don’t just live with us at the new house?” Mai starts to hop toward the hallway, unfazed by the weight of her question. You stop in your tracks, “You sleep over a lot anyways!” She adds.

Jungkook’s head pops up, eyes finding you right away. His curious grin is a heavy contrast to the way you start nibbling on your lip. “How observant of you,” you look down at her.

“Daddy said he would like for you to move with us-” Mai turns to grin at her dad, a window of space in her teeth, “he’s just too chicken-”

Jungkook clicks his tongue, face glowing red, “Okay slick, go-uh-go brush your teeth and we’ll be in there in a minute,” Jungkook cuts in. Mai hops away with Bam close at toe.

Jungkook catches your round eyes, “I’m guessing we should talk about that,” he flashes you an innocent smile, “after she goes to bed.” You’re nodding before he can fully finish that sentence.

“Me moving in is not an idea I want in Mai’s head,” you huff, looking over at Jungkook and the smirk on his face. He notices your annoyance, pushing his lips together, “Go on,” he urges you.

“I just wish you would have told me this is a discussion you were having with your kid, babe,” you sigh, putting the last plate he rinsed into the dishwasher before starting it up, “isn’t that something you should be talking to me about, not a 7-year-old?”

“I’m not discussing anything like that with my daughter, she asked if you were going to move with us, and I said it would be nice, but- she brought it up,” he snorts, “not me!”

You bark with laughter, “Blaming Mai, how father-of-the-year of you, Jungkook.”

Jungkook laughs despite your frustration, tossing the rag into the sink before slinking his arms around your waist, pushing his nose into your cheek. You scoff, trying to fight him off, but he proves victorious, as always. Your arms fall limp when he squeezes you tightly before leaning forward for a kiss.

“Cheater,” you say against his lips, “this does not end our conversation.” He giggles this time before kissing you again, “and your stupid little ring here can’t distract me either.” You add, pressing your finger against the piercing on his bottom lip.

He laughs, dropping his head in defeat, “I wasn’t aware a conversation between two people meant one person argues while the other can’t get a word in edgewise,” he pats your side, smirking, “and complain about this all you want, I know you like it.”

You swat his chest in response, “whatever,” attempting to wiggle out of his hold. He finds your determination cute, hardly putting up any restraint against your pathetic attempt to set yourself free; “and it’s hard to argue when you won’t let me go!”

“It’s a lot more fun to argue this way,” he retorts.

Oh, he’s good.

You let out a loud huff, once again losing the fight, “Well, what do you have to say for yourself then?” Your frown only makes his gaze softer, you watch his eyes dart all around your face. You know he’s wondering where he should kiss you next.

“What I have to say is…I am madly and deeply in love-”

“Jung--kook,” you laugh with all frustration, pushing against his biceps that seem to grow by the day, “I am trying to have a very serious conversation right now wherein my boyfriend, you, respects me and listens to my concerns and validates my feelings because this is kind of a major thing!” You take a deep breath at the end of that sentence.

He steals a kiss before letting you go, apologizing. Though you wouldn’t mind hearing Jungkook tell you daily just how in love with you he is, that could wait for a later time. He follows you into the living room, peering down the hallway instinctively to make sure Mai’s night light is on in her bedroom, where she is sound asleep. You hold your glass of wine between two hands, watching him settle onto the couch, his arm draped over the back and resting his head against his palm.

He smiles at you, stealing a sip from your glass, having opted out of a glass for himself, considering he has an early meeting in the morning; “Okay, so Mai and I got a little excited about moving, and you did come up. I’m sorry, baby. But help me understand what’s troubling you.”

You immediately feel heard, a warmth settling in your chest when you realize he has been listening for the last 30 minutes.

“I’m just surprised she would ask that, and a little bothered that you didn’t tell me. But my concern is Mai, I just don’t want to get her hopes up about me moving in with you guys. You know kids, and you know your kid, she holds onto every hope and she is smart. You give her an inkling, and she puts two and two together so fast.”

He nods, sighing, “I hear you and you’re right, but I’m wondering if the issue really has to do with my daughter, and I-” he makes it a point to gesture at himself, “wanting this or you not wanting to move in. I mean, I’m obviously not opposed to the idea, we’ve been together for almost a year now. I’m moving into a new place. Isn’t moving in together the next logical step?”

Steps? You can’t hold in the hefty sigh that sits in your chest. The lingering thoughts loom over your head when you think about the steps you and Jungkook have overcome in just the last few months. Being with him, it’s seventh heaven, yes. Moving on from best friends to best friends that have fallen in love, confessing that love to each other then becoming boyfriend and girlfriend. But with time and a new relationship, it’s you and Jungkook. The two of you know each other well, and that in itself was proving to be a hurdle.

“Is it, Jungkook? Most couples-”

“For us,” he says in a breath, “I’m talking about you and me. We’ve known each other for a long time, been in love with each other for God knows how long before confessing, you’ve helped me raise my kid- moving in together feels right and besides-” Jungkook moves forward, resting his hand on your knee with a careful laugh, “baby, you do sleep here almost every night anyway.”

You abandon your wine for a more serious tone, “because it’s a drive for me to get hom, and I’m always here late. Besides, your new house is a lot closer to my apartment.” It’s the truth, the half-truth anyway.

There’s an odd silence that follows for a few beats. Jungkook looks down at where his hand rests on your knee, fingers playing with the material of your pants; “I know something else is bothering you…” It suddenly becomes hard to swallow when Jungkook looks at you, a certain caution in his eyes as he presents that observation.

You chew on the inside of your lip.

Moving in does sound nice. Being able to work from home and hear Jungkook and Mai come in, maybe even swing by his office for a quick lunch together on occasion. Picking Mai up from school on your days off and bringing her home, a home you don’t have to leave just to stay alone in your apartment when all you want is to be with the two loves of your life.

It sounds perfect.

But…

The but…You hate it. You’ve hated it since the moment it barged its way into your head. It arrived and never left, making itself comfortable as an unwelcome guest inside your mind. Moving in only means things progress from there, naturally. You share a space with the one you love. Share a bathroom. A bed… And it’s not like you and Jungkook haven’t shared those things already. But physical intimacy with each other outside of making out and other forms is otherwise vague in your relationship, you always made sure it stopped before it progressed beyond a point you can’t take back with him.

Jungkook can see the inner workings of your mind appear as a question mark on your face. He wants to ask you, but the knot in his stomach tells him not to. He wants you to be ready to talk about it.

“Come here,” he pulls you into his arms, the way he always does when he isn’t sure about what to say when both of you are at a loss. And it’s nice, it’s so nice to finally be able to do this with him.

“I just want you with us as much as possible,” he soothes, rubbing your sides, “that’s all I’m getting at.”

You nod, “We’ll talk about it more and I’ll give it some thought,” you sit back, holding his hands, “but just-don’t let this be a conversation you have with Mai again, please? I don’t want to disappoint her if it doesn’t happen.”

He frowns, “‘doesn’t happen?’ You mean, ever?” He can’t hide his disappointment.

“Jungkook,” you’re exasperated, “we just haven’t talked about enough yet. Yes, we are in a relationship, but I mean, there are other factors to consider too, right?”

When he fidgets in his spot, you suddenly realize there is space between the two of you. “Are you talking about what happened a month ago?”

You feel exposed, stripped in a way to say anymore, but it’s a thought that’s been in your mind since the issue arose for you, “yes, that is something, but I also mean- well, like marriage? Have you thought about marriage?”

He tries to hide the way his eyes widen. “Is that something you want?”

You bite your lip, “You don’t?”

He sees your expression, the way you’re growing more distant by the second. He remembers the last time this happened, almost to the point of losing you entirely. He makes a last-minute decision to re-close the gap, tying your fingers with his, “okay, so there is a lot we still need to discuss before moving in together is an option then.”

You nod wearily, “which is why we need to leave Mai out of it, for now.”

Jungkook hates to end the night this way, the two of you lost, unsure of how the other is feeling. Instead of sleeping in his arms, you both take to your respective sides of his bed - you staring up at the ceiling and Jungkook, who is lying on his side, stares out of the window.

You pretended to be asleep when you felt him stir at one point, knowing he turned to check.

He lay back on his side, mind running rampant with intrusive thoughts. These questions he wasn’t aware could exist until entering a relationship with you now cloud his forethought. Before, he wondered how he could go on secretly loving you, so desperately wanting you to want him. And now that he has you, his question feels heavier.

‘Can I be good enough for her?’ It booms with such a heavy bass that it irritates his eardrums.

You squirm in your seat, cheek resting against your knuckles as you stare back at your computer screen. The conversation you and Jungkook had last night left you strained, mind occupied, despite the mountain of work in front of you. And by the way both of you struggled to even spare a look at each other when you kissed him goodbye this morning, you knew he was still thinking about what was going on in your mind.

In hindsight, dating for almost a year may have been too soon to bring up marriage. There is still so much to do as a couple, to learn about your best friend turned boyfriend, and even your relationship with Mai is changing ever so slightly. You want time to explore all of that, but Jungkook’s statement, even though it regarded something else for him, kept flashing in red font before your eyes.

‘I’m talking about you and me…’

You and Jungkook. It used to be an unfathomable dream. Now you are living it, and those single words hold so much for you. It’s wonderful and terrifying when you allow the thought to seep in, wrapping its meaning around your bones; it was a part of you now.

It’s nearly impossible not to imagine that kind of future with this man who continues to captivate you more and more. Every day you see Jungkook and you think, ‘Can I really love him more than I already do?’

And the answer is always yes.

Then, Mai dances across your mind, a foolish smile appearing on your lips and leaving Nic to wonder what drug you are on at the moment. She knows, rolling her eyes with a smirk when she notices how distracted you’ve become.

She came over in need of your skill, wanting a new banner and a few extra graphics to dress up her website.

“Ah,” Nic dramatizes a sigh, wheeling her chair over to your desk, “what’s it like up there on cloud nine?” She elongates her words to string you along, looking down at the framed picture you have of Jungkook and Mai, a selfie they took some years back while on vacation. You remember it clearly because Mai had just turned five and Jungkook surprised her with a trip to her favorite amusement park. They sent you that selfie and a quick text telling you how much they missed you and wished you were there with them.

You have to laugh at the obviousness of it all; the three of you were a family before you even knew it.

“I would ask how your love life is but-” Nic looks back at you with an arched brow, “it’s pretty obvious how well that’s going.”

You widen your eyes, choosing to answer her query with a gentle nod.

But it’s Nic, she picks up on everything, even when you get back to work with a set determination. She purses her lips, searching for the right words to form her nosy question.

“I know you have something to say,” you lean back in your chair, pushing your digital art pen behind your ear before returning a sarky look toward Nic, “so no need for consideration - out with it.”

She gives you a look of innocence, fluttering her eyelashes at you, “you’ve sighed like a million times in the last hour, and despite how in love you are, I know you. So either you are exhausted with my presence or-” she drawls, waiting in expectation.

You open your mouth, and Nic is quick to press her finger against your lips, “I know you aren’t that tired of me.”

You push her hand away, laughing, “Okay, okay. It’s stupid-ugh, no. It’s not stupid, actually, and that’s bothering me.”

You think it should be simple, wanting to share in the physical act of love with the man you love.

Nic’s eyes wander your expression for more, steeping in confusion that mirrors the very same inside of you, “gonna need more than that.”

The two of you share in a silent stare-off, a moment that Nic knows is necessary while you try to piece together the tethered ends of your worries; “Mai passively suggested I move into their new house with them, come to find out they talked about it briefly before. Jungkook is all for it and it - I don’t know - it started this whole conversation…” You shake your head, trailing the end of your jumbled mind.

“Okay,” Nic continues to read your expression, noting the bend in your posture and shaking eyes, “okay, not the worst thing he could want considering this is Jeon Jungkook we’re talking-” she stops when you shoot her a flat look, “sorry okay, well, what was the conversation about?”

You round your eyes, “everything.”

Nic sighs your name, “literally giving me nothing to work with here.”

You groan out loud, tossing your head back until it hits the back of your chair, “because it’s not fair, he and I are finally in this place neither of us knew the other wanted until months ago, and now reality has wedged its way into our relationship and- I-I don’t know if we’re ready to answer all of these questions.”

“Questions like?” She motions with her hands to draw you out.

“Having sex!” The words spill out of you, leaving you to burn beneath the flame of embarrassment. It’s enough to make Nic sit back, eyes popped open and mouth slightly agape.

“Not-okay, god-not just that. Our conversation spiraled from moving in together to marriage, and now I’m afraid Jungkook doesn’t actually want to marry me- and before you ask, no, I don’t want to be married right now, but-” your shoulders drop even lower, “it is something I want with him.”

A loud exhale falls out of your friend, “Oof, okay, this is- yeah-this is a lot of baggage.”

“It’s a mixed pot of crap, is what it is Nic,” you groan.

“So,” the tone of her voice drags along, “I’m guessing you guys haven’t-”

“We sound like teenagers,” you roll your eyes, “no, Jungkook and I have not had sex, I wasn’t ready when he was, and am still not ready.”

She nods, “Okay, fair, but uh-that’s um-that’s kind of a bump, right? I mean, maybe not right this minute but I’m guessing you two wouldn’t have come this far if a long-term relationship wasn’t something you’re both aiming for? So, you know, that will become an area that needs to be discussed.”

You drop your head in your hands, “My stupid brain won’t stop patronizing me with his past,” you sit upright, hair askew, “his past that wasn’t that long ago, and- I don’t know…”

Nic sighs, understanding immediately and if she knew any better, was aware of this before you confirmed it, “there it is. Okay, so his past taunts you. Are you worried he’ll cheat on you?”

“No, Jungkook has done a lot of things but no I’m not worried-” you sigh, “I love him, I love Mai, I love the three of us together,” if not for the issue at hand, Nic could hear the musing sound of love in your tone, “but this has been an issue since before I fell in love with him and I can’t get it out of my head, even now.”

“You have to talk to him,” Nic repeats these words you remember so clearly from months ago, “that’s the only way you guys will know what step to take next or how to take it.”

“I know that, and we will, but-” you hesitate for a moment, “what if he really can’t commit to me. I mean, he has me, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want anything else with anyone else, but I can’t stop seeing that look on his face when I mentioned marriage.”

“Look, this isn’t my relationship, babe,” Nic leans in, “and I’m just asking rhetorically here, but does marriage have to define his commitment to you?”

She knows you’ll answer her anyway by the set look in your eyes; “for me, it does.” You hate the way that sounds; “I know Jungkook, he’s been my best friend for so long and now we get to be in love and of course I want to express that to him in every variation we can,” a soft chuckle slips passed your lips, “but just because it is him doesn’t mean I change my standards, even if he is the only guy that knows me so well. For me, giving myself to him? It’s a serious commitment.”

“Don’t hate me for asking what I am about to ask, but does this mean if he doesn’t want to get married, you’re never going to sleep with your man? You’re just going to continue holding hands like Little House on the Prairie-”

A drawn-out scoff bellows out of you, tossing your pen at her, “You are supposed to be helping me, not making fun of me!”

“I’m kidding,” her tone changes with a hint of laughter, left over, “I respect you.”

You feel yourself blush at the prideful smile on you friend’s face as she looks at you; “A lot.”

A few quips are made before the two of you are working again, leaving the conversation to itself.

Drowning your worries about each other in work, communication between you and Jungkook is limited to sending goodnight texts and ‘I love you’s’ for a week straight.

As you make your way to Mai’s school, all you can think about is the last time you made this drive, prompted by a call from her principal, later listening to your best friend of many years tell you he loved you back. If it worked out then, somehow this could all work out now. Pulling into a visitor’s parking spot, something churns in your belly, the unknown making you skip a few steps of the staircase as you trail into the building.

There is a smell to every school that immediately launches you into some nostalgic place of remembering, pulling open the door to the main office before politely telling the secretary you were there for Mai. After confirming the emergency call list, she directs you back to the office where the principal is waiting at her desk. Mai’s teacher, Mrs. Yoon, is standing off to the side and offers you a head nod with a meek wave.

Instantly, you spot Mai, her body limp in the chair and head drooping. She isn’t swinging her feet like she often does when they can’t reach the ground, and she isn't playing with the hem of her shirt. The little girl hardly spares you a breath when she hears you call her name softly, rubbing the top of her head with a careful caress.

“Thank you for coming on such short notice,” Ms. Park says, flashing a tight smile at you. “Mrs. Yoon has informed me that Mai was caught arguing with another classmate today, it appears she called her a name.”

Both teachers see the confusion blanket across your face, solidifying even for them the oddity of this entire ordeal. Mai has always been an obedient little girl, and though she got in trouble like any other child from time to time, this was outlandish for the Jeon Mai you’ve known since birth, “I’m sorry?”

Mrs. Yoon nods regretfully, “During reading hour, the two girls who share a table were going on and on. I initially thought they were just chatting, but when I made my way over, Mai-ehm- she called the other student, ‘stupid.’”

Mai’s head drops even lower, your eyes boring into her.

“Aside from her recent decline in class participation and work, we have never experienced any trouble with Mai before, not like this. So we are just as surprised as you but,” Ms. Park folds her hands over the desk, “we can’t treat her like any special case - she will need to come back on Saturday and serve a detention. We will send a letter home to her father about weekend work to make up for her missed assignments.”

A long sigh escapes you, nodding.

After the meeting, you make a call to Jungkook knowing it would be better to warn him rather than bombard him with the unfolding of his delinquent child. Mai drags herself to your car, staying a few feet ahead of you.

“Hey,” you breathe slowly when he picks up, noting the way Mai tenses her shoulders because she knows who you are talking to. In the background of the call, you can hear him driving, “Are you heading to another showing?”

“Nope,” he lets out a fake cheer, “finished up early, why?”

“Brace yourself,” you say slowly into the phone.

“What’s wrong? Is Mai okay?” The panic rises in his tone but you are quick to settle it, opening Mai’s door so she can hop in. She avoids your eyes, buckling herself in before you shut the door.

You stay outside of the car, “apparently, Mai called one of her classmates ‘stupid’ today.”

“What,” Jungkook laughs, disbelief apparent in his voice, “you’re kidding.”

“I don’t know who was more shocked, me or her teachers, but it’s true and sweet little bean has jail time this weekend,” you try to soften the blow with a small joke. Jungkook groans, his palm landing in a firm slap against the steering wheel.

“Alright,” he curses, “alright, I’ll see you girls in a minute.”

Your attempt to fill the quiet drive proves to be a failed one. “Bean?” You flit your eyes between the road and a sulking Mai in the backseat. She doesn’t acknowledge you, her chin sitting in the palm of her hand. She traces patterns onto her pants with her finger, bottom lip hanging low.

You clear your throat, pulling into Jungkook’s driveway. Mai sees him first, waiting at the door with his hands shoved inside his pockets. She groans, planting her forehead into her hand.

You pinch a smile as the two of you walk up to him. Jungkook kisses your cheek, his hand wrapping around the back of Mai’s neck while the three of you walk into the house. You put Mai’s things away while they walk into the living room. A force hangs around the little girl’s ankles the longer her father is silent. He tells her to sit on the sofa while he pulls up the ottoman, sitting right in front of her.

“So…?” Is all he says, clasping his hands together.

Mai’s chin falls against her chest, heavy breaths falling out of her nose, making it apparent she has no interest in discussing her mistake. You occupy yourself with Bam, quietly taking a seat out of Mai’s eyesight.

“Jeon Mai,” Jungkook tightens his tone, “you already have detention tomorrow, you want to be grounded next weekend too?”

Mai gasps, picking her head up and looking at her dad like he’s just betrayed her in the worst way, “Daddy that’s not fair, I didn’t even do anything!”

Jungkook’s pierced eyebrow quirks, “So calling your classmate stupid is okay?” He frowns.

Mai flings herself back into the cushion, her frown a carbon copy of her dad’s, “She deserved it.”

“Mai,” her name comes out as a harsh whisper from your mouth. Jungkook looks at you. Your body rattled from such a brazen thing for a 7-year-old to say, you disappear out into the back. Jungkook’s eyes are already back on his daughter, who is watching you out of the corner of her eye.

It was never easy to discipline Mai, especially when tears were sitting in the corners of her eyes. No matter how large her mistake, Jungkook often teetered on the edge of caving because he couldn’t stand seeing his daughter cry or hurt in any way. But he stiffened his upper lip just like every other time, leaning forward in anticipation of her side of the story.

Mai’s eyes smoke with frustration when she opens her mouth to say something before closing it again, “Never mind,” she mumbles, head falling back against the sofa cushion, “nobody ever listens anyways,” her tiny voice argues.

“We’re going to your classmate’s house so you can apologize, Saturday after-”

“No!” Mai yells, a look of horror painting her tiny features, “Daddy, I don’t wanna go to her house, I already said sorry in Ms. Park’s office-”

“No exceptions,” Jungkook shoos Bam out of the way, Mai’s protector. At any sound of distress, the lanky dog appears to assure his miniature owner is safe; “what’s going on, huh? First, the teacher-parent conference, and now this?” You note the slight spiral Jungkook appears to be in.

Mai sniffles, using the back of her hand to wipe her eyes, “I don’t care about school,” she whimpers. Crocodile tears staining her perfectly round cheeks.

Jungkook expresses his exhaustion with a sigh, a deep breath rounds his chest before he inches closer to his daughter. “Come on bud, you’ve always loved school- what’s going on?” He wipes each tear that follows.

Mai hiccups a couple of times, her teardrops only growing larger and making the ache in Jungkook’s heart greater. He swallows back the lump forming in his throat, allowing Bam to nestle himself between them, resting his snout on Mai’s knee. For a moment, the three of them are stuck in the center of a storm, Mai’s deep cries filling up the space.

“What is it, baby?” Jungkook soothes her, his tattooed hand grabbing onto her small one. Her broken words are the only sound heard for the next minute before she musters up the courage to speak.

“Th-there’s a dance,” Mai cries, her tiny body taken over by emotion. She looks at her dad when he tells her to take a deep breath, following his instruction a few times over.

“A dance?” He asks softly, rubbing her fingers between his.

“Mhm,” Mai nods, eyes red but the tears have stopped flowing now, “f-for kids and their moms.”

Jungkook inhales, eyes closing for only a second before he’s staring right into his daughter’s eyes. He can’t allow her to see the break in his own eyes, “for moms, hm?”

“That girl was asking me about my mom, and I got mad,” Mai pouts, her finger tracing one of Jungkook’s tattoos, “I called her stupid…”

He breathes in through his teeth, nodding, “okay kiddo, listen to me-” Jungkook takes Mai’s chin, directing her to look at him, “you understand why you gotta’ apologize to her, right? And properly?”

Mai just nods.

“Okay,” he sighs, dropping his hand to engulf both of hers in one, “I am sorry you are hurting, bean. You need to tell me these things as soon as they happen, yeah?” He squeezes her hands, “How else is Dad going to know when you need my help unless you tell me?”

“’Cause I-it’s embarrassing, daddy,” Mai’s voice cracks, “it’s not fair that I don’t get to go j-just because-” Mai frowns, “it’s just not fair.”

“No, it’s not, but you know what you got, right?” Jungkook pulls Mai’s hands to rest them on top of his shoulders, his hands moving to hold her around her ribcage, he utters your name and the mere sound of it creates a thin smile on Mai’s face, “and you have a Hamny, Nunu, and two poppas- you even got this dummy-” Jungkook and Mai look down at Bam who is in desperate want of some love himself, “and you have me forever, Jeon Mai, you can’t forget about me.”

He reaches around her neck and taps his fingers there gently, swimming in the sound of his daughter’s giggles. Bam hops around the furniture as the sound of Mai’s repaired joy leaps out of her body, seeping into the walls of her bedroom.

After sorting out her punishment, Jungkook leaves Mai to start her homework, slipping through the sliding glass door to find you. You look at him as he makes his way over, a look of wonder on your face, “I was sure they were talking about the wrong kid.”

Jungkook presses his eyes shut, shaking his head.

It was a long week, and all three of you were feeling it. From work, school, and the wavering questions surrounding your relationship. You hesitate for a moment before wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s waist, kissing the center of his chest, then looking up at him.

He groans, dropping his hands to rest on your sides, “I thought we settled all of this at the parent-teacher meeting last week.”

“Oh, you never did tell me what happened,” you say, resting your chin against his chest. He smooths his hands up and down your back, the two of you looking at each other. Neither acknowledges any reason for the week-long radio silence.

“Yeah-um,” his eyes strain, the vein in his neck protruding, “apparently math isn’t the only class her grades are suffering in,” he lets you go, “she’s almost failing math actually, hasn’t brought home her science homework for the last couple of weeks, isn’t reading their assigned book for the year-” he shakes his head.

Your sharp inhale alerts Jungkook, “What? This isn’t like her-”

“I know that, I know my kid,” he spats back.

He catches the surprise in your face, noting how short he’s been in the last week, too.

“I’m sorry, I’m just-there’s a lot going on and it seems to be happening all at once,” he breathes, reaching out for you to grab his hand. You move forward on weary feet before taking it, allowing him to pull you into another hug.

“We’ll figure this out,” you assure him, rubbing his back, “maybe-um, just focus on Mai right now, she’s important.”

So are you, he thinks to himself.

He leans forward and pecks your lips, “Maybe we can de-stress,” he kisses you again, “in the hot tub, after she goes to bed.”

Suddenly, your tongue swells, depleting you of any sound response, eyes struggle to meet his. The embers of desire stoke inside of you, but everything else wills you to create distance. If not for Jungkook’s mindful hold around you, you are sure you’d fall back.

“I can’t,” you feign disappointment, “I shouldn’t, it’s the middle of the week.”

He questions you with a look.

You lean up to kiss his cheek before moving his arms from around you, “Not tonight, Kook.”

“Okay,” he feels dissatisfied with your reason, following you back to the front door. Before you can get into your car, Jungkook tugs your arm, bringing you back to him.

“Jungkook,” you breathe tirelessly.

“Need a favor,” he laughs, “for Mai.”

Your ears perk up, body relaxing in his arms. Jungkook pretends not to notice the way you tensed initially.

“Um-there’s a dance, I guess, for uh-well for the kids and their moms-”

A small gasp escapes you, “Oh no.” Your heart launches into your throat, face falling.

Heart stuttering in his chest, your reaction for Mai always so deep he can feel it inside of himself, “you think you’d want to take her?”

“Of course,” you say in a breath, “oh my gosh, of course I’ll take her.”

All he can do is repay you in the way he’s most confident in, hands squeezing you before he peppers your lips with kisses, “I love you.”

You push his face back, skin warming beneath his touch, “You know I’d do anything for her.”

His eyes twinkle as they drink you in, but you can see a measure of worry in them; “I know we have a lot to discuss,” he starts, “but we’re gonna be okay, yeah? You and Me?”

You want to settle his worry, but fear invades you like a virus and gnaws at your stomach, “just - one thing at a time.”

You feel his hold around you faintly loosen, but you mask it by telling him you’ll help him pack up some more boxes since Mai wasn’t going to be around Saturday. He’s disappointed, but rather than question you, he thanks you and opens your car door, pulling your chin to kiss you goodbye.

Jungkook lays in bed that night, becoming too familiar with this sleeplessness. His hands lay behind his head while he stares up at the ceiling, watching your weariness paint a picture across the white expanse of his bedroom.

He recalls this helpless feeling when you walked away from the cruise ship, leaving him with the notion that you were done with him entirely. Mai enters his mind and an audible scoff comes out like poison, forcing him to shut his eyes because he can’t bear that pain. But it’s a burden he is forever vowed to in order to protect his daughter. Despite how apologetic she was, he could see something brewing in her. Not like anything he’d seen before when this issue about her absent mother would come up.

All he wanted was in his hands: his daughter and you. As sleep finally rained over him like a heavy storm, he couldn’t help feeling like what he finally had a grasp on was beginning to slip through his fingers.

“I swear there’s an echo, listen-” you stop to allow quiet into the empty house, looking at Jungkook who is smirking at you, “HELLO!”

Jungkook pretends to listen with anticipatory glee, eyes gliding across the vast space of his new home while Bam sniffs around the tiled floor.

Silence.

You pout, opening your mouth to try a different sound before Jungkook gently places his hand over your mouth, “just admit defeat, babe- this is hard to watch.”

You click your tongue, pushing his hand away, only for him to grab your arm, turning you in one swift motion that has your head spinning, caging you in his arms. His voice vibrates against your back and into your ear: " You are cute, though.” His words are muddled when he kisses your cheek.

“Clingy,” you shoot back as he walks the two of you around their new living room.

He chuckles, squishing your cheeks when he turns your face so he can kiss you.

“Alright,” you argue, ducking your head away when you realize he doesn’t just want a single kiss, “let’s move Mai’s boxes into her room,” you squirm until he finally releases you, “I want her new bed to be built so she can see it and like me more than you.”

He tongues his cheek, “Really?”

You hold your hands behind your back, turning about to portray the picture of an innocent girlfriend, “yup.”

“Okay, let’s make a bet,” he says, eyeing the box filled with pieces of Mai’s new bed frame, a light bulb appearing above his head, “I’ll carry all of the boxes in if you can build her bed by yourself.”

Your eyes pop open, “By myself?”

He tips his head, crossing his arms in expectation of you waving your white flag. But it doesn’t surprise him when you slit your eyes together, lips revealing a pearly smile, “deal, Jeon.”

The two of you become lost in your work. At first, the tasks sound unfair. You build while Jungkook unloads the truck; easy! But when you peer out of Mai’s soon-to-be bedroom window every so often, you realize Jungkook received the short end of the stick. The edges of summer are making their way into the city a little early, and today the sun is blazing. Jungkook abandoned his shirt an hour into it, tying it around his head so the sweat wouldn’t drip into his eyes.

You purse your lips, the sun rays doing a fantastic job at highlighting your boyfriend’s sharp muscles.

Building and a show?

“What are you smiling about?” Jungkook appears with one of Mai’s boxes. You’ve been caught in a daydream and stutter your way out of it.

“Oh-uh, how glorious it’s going to be when I finish this first and get to sit back with Bam while you unpack that truck,” you lie.

Jungkook squats in front of you, “I thought you loved me.”

“I do,” you tap his nose with the flathead screwdriver, “I can love you and relax at the same time, can’t I?”

Jungkook laughs it off, leaning forward for a kiss, and when you motion to meet him the rest of the way, he dodges you and stands upright, laughing his way out of the room and leaving you with puckered lips and a curse to his name.

But who gets the last laugh? You think to yourself as you stand over Mai’s completed bed some hours later. Hands on your hips, Bam prances in and bumps your wrist with his nose.

“Not bad, huh, bud?” You press his floppy ear between your fingers, caressing his favorite spot, “let’s go rub it in your dad’s face.”

It wasn’t long ago that you heard Jungkook moving boxes into his bedroom down the hall, retracing his steps toward that room with a trophy smile on your face and a taunting remark at the helm, “Kook?”

All of that seeps away when you find him lying back on his naked mattress, hands folded on his stomach, and t-shirt back on. The sweat has since disappeared from his hair and his skin hasn’t a trace of red tint from the sun. He pokes his head up, “Finally.”

Your mouth drops open, “How?”

He laughs, head falling back and eyes relaxing, “You were so concentrated on finishing her bed, I didn’t want to bug you, but I enjoyed my forty-five-minute nap while waiting for you.”

You blink, mouth tightening when you hear a tapping sound.

“Winner gets cuddles,” he sounds off, his hand patting the space next to him, “come here.”

You stubbornly cross your arms instead. After a few seconds that feel like a lifetime, Jungkook sits up on his elbows. “Or I can toss you over my shoulder and tickle you instead, your choice, baby.”

You drag your feet over to the bed, crawling next to Jungkook but not before pushing him back down with a forceful thud against the pillowy mattress. You lay back in a huff, ignoring the way he’s snickering at your sore-loser mentality.

He clears his throat, “waiting…”

“Tch-” you throw your arms straight up into the air, allowing him to curl into your side, his arm lying across your chest, and head resting right next to yours. He lets out a contented sigh when you drape your arms around him, smirking when he feels your fingers card through his hair. As much as you hate losing to your boyfriend, the sore feelings never last when he cuddles into you like this.

You can feel him watching you, and you turn to playfully argue, but the twinkle in his eyes spark a fire in the pit of your stomach that makes you forget everything.

Before you can say anything, Jungkook is bringing your head closer to his until he pecks your lips. “Thank you for building her bed,” he says in a mindful tone; “I hoped we would do it together, but you looked determined.” His fingers threaded in your hair start to massage your scalp.

“I was,” your voice almost doesn’t make it out, making Jungkook giggle. He hums into another kiss against your lips, moving to hover over you this time. His hand is imprinted into the side of your neck, thumb sweeping across your jaw until it’s pressed against your chin.

It’s like pulling teeth when he moves away to take in your expression, your body hurdled into a war despite becoming pliable to his touch, your hand having inched a good distance beneath his shirt, but he has to see your face first. Neither of you says anything, allowing you to hear the alarm going off in your head.

Jungkook closes the gap, body on top of you. His lips brush against your skin, leaving it to tingle when he latches onto your neck. His hands move lower, seeking out the hem of your shirt.

You start to frown when he’s successful, moving his fingers underneath the material, effectively causing the imaginary alarm to blare around you. Mind aware and heart battering in your chest, you pull your hands away from his stomach and find his wrists, gripping them so tightly that Jungkook hisses.

“S-stop,” you say against his mouth, and Jungkook reacts with a cat-like sense, pulling back; “we have to stop.” He places his hands on either side of your head while his eyebrows knit together. You let out a shaking breath, pulling his arm up and away so you can roll off the bed and onto your feet.

He breathes a broken apology, “I misread-”

“I-um,” you’re chasing after steady breaths as you smooth your hair down, “it’s almost time to pick up Mai.”

Jungkook sits back on his feet, trying to hide his confusion because he can feel it from you. For those few minutes, you and Jungkook are finally on the same page.

Both of you aware there is still another hour or so before she gets out of school, he nods anyway.

After eating dinner together on a blanket in the middle of their empty house, Jungkook practically has to chase after you when you go out to your car. He’s impressed, albeit a little hurt too, at how quickly you get in before he can give you a proper goodbye. But not wanting to tip off his daughter that something weird is happening, he just waves as you back out of the driveway.

“Did you leave your homework out so I can check it?” Jungkook asks Mai once back at their old house, tucking her into bed.

Mai rolls her eyes, answering him like she has been interrogated, “Yes, Dad.”

He clamps his hand over her face, gently jolting her head side to side until she’s laughing, both of her hands wrapping around his wrist, “might want to re-think the way you answer me, bud.”

“Sorry,” she finally says once he releases her. He kisses her cheek, steeping in the few seconds she reaches her arms around his neck for a hug before he wishes her sweet dreams.

He falls onto the sofa with a loud huff, wine glass in hand, while the other is patting Bam’s thigh. There is hardly a time he didn’t enjoy having you there with him. Some nights with the two of you snuggled under a blanket watching a scary movie, others spent talking out in the backyard until it was time to go to bed, and the rest, kissing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer. Admittedly, he enjoys those nights because he can watch you sleep for a little bit.

But tonight, he needs the time alone, even if his mind is ravaged with worry. The worry that started as a seedling the night you told him you weren’t ready was only growing. It started to sprout when you mentioned marriage.

Jungkook is more than willing to wait; that isn’t a question. Is it hard?

He sighs, eyes clamping shut; it is very hard. And not because he can’t control the need in him, but because he loves you. He wants to express that to you, and if he knows you at all, he can sense the same in you.

So what was stopping you?

His eyes pop open, temples throbbing when the answer bleeds into his brain.

Flashes of you throughout the years replay in front of him like an old film strip. Recalling the time after you both confessed, when you described to him the sheer aches in your body any time he talked about some date he went on. Or how sick you felt when he would leave a club with another woman running her nails against his back.

He curses when a vivid memory invades him, it doesn’t matter how tightly shut his eyes are. He can still see the look on your face.

After a night out with friends, you were ready to call it a night. Jungkook never carpooled, considering his after-party plans always varied. You roll your eyes at the thought, forcing it away because, at least for one night, he actually wanted to stay with all of you.

With your friends gathering their things, you ask Nic for her keys so you can wait in the car. She tells you Jungkook asked for them a little bit ago- something about a co-worker calling him, and he needed to take the call somewhere quiet. After two failed attempts at calling Jungkook, you text him this time.

[1:04 AM] to Jungkook: we’re coming out now, meet us at the car.

Off you go, surprised because, as tipsy as you are, you remember where it’s parked. You grimace as your feet pound, swollen from a night of dancing, as you make your way over. Spotting the car, you don’t see any sign of Jungkook, assuming he is already sitting in the back.

Pulling at the handle, you don’t hear the heavy breaths and sounds of ecstasy at first (also escaping you is the sheer terror that puts a stop to those noises when they hear the car door swing open).

It’s only when you bend to get into the backseat do you lock eyes with a friend of a friend before noticing her wrinkled dress. Worse, though, is when you look over a few inches and see Jungkook’s wide eyes blinking back at you.

All of you curse apologies before you slam the door shut, making for the building in a desperate jog back to the group. You can no longer feel the splitting pain in the heels of your feet, or how tired your legs are. You’re certain that how you just found your best friend, in a very compromising position with this woman, has sobered you up completely. Going amiss is the way Jungkook is buckling his belt and calling after you when he and the friend hastily fix themselves before stepping out of the car.

He abandons his glass of wine, dropping his head back against the sofa.

Jungkook wants you. He has so much he wants to prove to you. He wants to know what scares you but what he doesn’t expect is how vulnerable he’s been feeling. Marriage? He doesn’t disagree that there are still things to discuss.

He wonders if that ache in your body that you felt all that time ago is the same feeling pressing against his bones now.

“I know that look all too well.” Your mom walks back into the living room, finding you sitting with a cat in your lap, your attention taken by the ceiling they just had redone.

She meets your eyes with a knowing smile, patting your knee when she sits at the other end. The cat stretches and abandons you for her mother; “traitor,” you pout, lovingly swatting her fluffy tail. She spares you a single blink before cozying into your mom’s lap.

“Out with it,” your mom forwards the conversation. You want to laugh, hearing yourself in your mom.

Your fingers tingle with nostalgic feelings of a hormonal, teenage girl. Your mother can see the way you begin to blush beneath your skin, her senses causing her to draw back in a way that she knows can draw you out.

“Jungkook and I-ehm-” you struggle to start, “uh-we’re coming to our first- pothole? In our relationship, but it’s-ugh, it’s a big pothole, Mom.”

“Okay,” her eyes carefully observe you and the way you retreat into yourself. The daughter she raised, who is naturally so modest, so much so, you didn’t tell her when you first started your period until a week later; “something that has you feeling- hmm- nervous, maybe?”

“Mm,” you hum, picking at your fingernails despite the fresh manicure you just had done, “it’s weird, mom.”

She chuckles, “You want me to turn away while you tell me?”

Your expressionless eyes find hers in a deadpan. She presses her lips together apologetically, remembering all those years she would do so whenever you had something embarrassing to talk about with her. She chuckles when you nod before looking down at the purring cat in her lap.

You drop your face into your hands and laugh, though nothing about this is that amusing to you, “god if I can’t even talk to my own mother about it, how am I ever going to do it.”

“Honey,” your mom spats, “maybe start by using the proper terminology for it, you’re an adult for heaven’s sake, just say, ‘mom, I’m having trouble with the idea of making love-’”

“Oh, mom,” you grimace, covering your ears like a child, “please, I remember the crash course you gave me on proper sex terminology when I was in high school, okay?”

Your mom laughs, patting the cat’s behind until it jumps off, “Oh, you are too modest for your own good- okay okay.” She moves over to you, pulling your hands away from your head and placing them in your lap, “I’m all ears- whenever you’re ready.”

You drop your head back, resting it against the back of the sofa.

“I’m not going into grave detail-”

“Nor do I want you to, sweetheart,” your mom cuts in.

You close your eyes, lips tipped into a half smile, while your skin boils with sheer embarrassment.

“You and Dad- did you guys wait until you were married?” You’re surprised when the question makes it out into the open air. Your mom is quiet, pulling you to look at her. She answers with a simple shake of the head.

“How did you- when did you know you were ready?” You ask.

Your mom tips her head to the side in a thoughtful manner, “he proved to me long before that I was safe with him, his actions said a lot more than any of the sweet words other men used prior to when I was with daddy.”

Your eyes widen at the thought of your mom’s previous love life, abandoning that thought before it produces further in your head.

“I don’t feel unsafe with Jungkook,” you start to think more deeply, “he makes me feel heard, seen, and very wanted-” you breathe a soft laugh.

“Good, it’s what you deserve,” your mom nudges your chin with her knuckle, winking at you when you look at her, “but it’s okay if you want to wait until marriage honey, and Jungkook is a good man, raised with a lot of love, and by the way he could hardly take his eyes off of you the last time we were together, I can see he loves you and respects you. He’ll wait if those things continue to motivate him.”

You know those truths, you believe them. Jungkook is a good man who had a colorful love life that he readily abandoned for you. You know how understanding he is and to some degree, you know he would wait. Marriage. You want it, you want it with him, but Jungkook’s seeming hesitance to it makes the knot in your stomach grow.

“We’re human, we have natural desires, especially when we are in love with someone, and that’s okay too.” Your mom lifts her eyebrows when you give her a certain look, “What is it that’s making you hesitant?”

“What?” Your tired expression is clear on your face, causing Nic to push her hand against the door when you move to close it; “I am here to pull you out of your hole of self-pity,” she quips.

You sigh, too worn to put up a fight. She returns the same expression as she walks into your apartment, turning to face you when you shut the door behind you.

“You have to stop this, this isn’t healthy for you or for Jungkook, who has no idea why you’re ghosting him,” she parrots the same lecture she’s been texting you for the last week. You don’t respond, tilting your head to the side while you cross your arms.

“Seriously-”

“God, Nic, I don’t care, okay?! I told you this would never go past what I am choosing to keep to myself.” You spat.

Nic calls your name desperately, “Do you really believe that?” She waves her hands to keep you from answering that, “Okay- whatever if you do, but how do you expect your friendship with Jungkook to last when you randomly cut him off like this? I know he’s annoying, it can be questionable the number of women he sleeps with but it’s his life. Like, come on, the guy has zero clue about your feelings. So he’s going to keep doing what he does best if you never tell him.”

“Nic-”

In her frustration, Nic, who is usually sound, has come to her wits end about it; “This is a waste of time anyway, the guy can’t commit to a single thing.”

You inhale sharply, misty eyes looking into your lap. It was the only fight you and Nic had that carried scars, though the two of you worked it out soon after. You apologized for roping her into that mess while she apologized for speaking so thoughtlessly.

“I just want to be sure he is committed to me first,” you admit, voice as small as the pattering feet of a garden mouse.

Your mom nods, pinching her lips together in a sympathetic smile, “I am sure he wants the same thing, sweetheart.”

Busy schedules and tempered feelings create more time away than you consciously intended. While seeing them for only a few hours at a time as opposed to your usual nights with them, Mai and Jungkook are in their last week at the old house. Walking into its near emptiness, you’re glad you brought the things you had to help Mai get ready for the dance.

Jungkook doesn’t outwardly question the recent distance, having filled his time with more open houses than he normally would. He has to remind himself to stay grounded while keeping you in his grasp, while his daughter has been growing quieter by the day.

It surprises him when she jumps into your arms, running her mouth a mile a minute about how excited she is that you both bought matching-colored dresses for the dance. Jungkook barely has a chance to kiss you before Mai pulls you down the hallway to start getting ready.

You curl the last piece of Mai’s hair, feeling her dark eyes fan over you for the umpteenth time through the bathroom mirror. With bobby pins between your teeth, you let out a breathy laugh, combing your fingers through her curls.

“Something on my face, bean?” You twist a section of her hair and pin it to the back of her head, doing the same on the other side of her face.

“Na-uh,” a faint smile wiggles onto her face, hands busying themselves with the hair products strewn across the bathroom counter. Her eyes move up to yours once more, alight with Jeon-like wonder.

You protect her eyes with your hand, “deep breath and hold it,” you instruct her, a cloud of hairspray falling over her perfectly done hair, “there we go.”

Mai opens her eyes and beams back at her reflection, eyes darting up to your face and for a moment, you see that light in her flicker brightly.

“Woah, look at my girl,” Jungkook surprises the pair of you, leaning against the door frame. Mai squeals, pushing past him and running to her bedroom, “You can’t see me yet, Dad!” You and Jungkook laugh; “geez, Kook,” you tease him, pecking his cheek before retreating to Mai’s room.

Jungkook ventures off to his room, getting himself ready to be a chaperone for the dance. An adoring smile appears on his face because any small gesture like the joke you made, gave him hope that the two of you would always be okay. For that minute, he didn’t worry about the right timing or what your future together looked like aside from knowing you wanted to be together forever. Jungkook knew that much.

After taking a slew of photos like it was prom night, the three of you walk into the school auditorium with Mai bouncing in her new dress shoes you bought for her, her hands holding tightly onto yours and her dad’s. She wears a proud smile, missing teeth and all, beaming up at you, she wastes no time begging you for a dance.

“Have fun,” Jungkook motions to kiss her forehead when she takes a large step back. Small voice struggling to voice off above the loud music, “daddy,” she whines through gritted teeth, “my friends are here.”

He frowns, grabbing both sides of her head and planting a kiss on her forehead; “My hair!” She squeaks.

He makes quick work to smooth down her curled tresses, “Deny your dad’s kiss again and I’ll kiss you on the lips next time, bean.” Jungkook playfully threatens Mai.

You pinch back a smile, rubbing his shoulder, before Mai pulls you into the mass of mothers and daughters. Jungkook doesn’t steep in reverence over his daughter’s attitude for long, conversing his way through a crowd of parent-acquaintances before finding a place against the wall where he can watch the two of you.

Lost in that sight, he doesn’t shy away from smiling and giggling to himself. Jungkook pushes his hands inside his pockets, making it a point to silently tell himself to remember this exact moment. A smile stains his daughter’s lips while she looks up at you, and if he concentrates enough, the music disappears, and instead, he hears her giggling when you spin her around twice. Mai’s eyes are shut, lost in a fit of laughter, struggling to stand on steady feet, her arms wrapping around you to keep from falling. Your head tosses back, caught between breathy laughs as your hands hold onto the little girl’s shoulders.

“Mr. Jeon,” a familiar voice calls out to him. Hesitantly, he takes his eyes off you and Mai and sees Mrs. Yoon. He shakes her hand, a warm smile appears on her face when she looks over at his daughter.

“Nice to see her smiling,” Mrs. Yoon admits, “she’s so quiet these days, I almost miss how chatty she was during my class, not sure if her other teachers would agree-” she chuckles, shrugging.

Jungkook rocks back on his feet, agreeing quietly.

“How is her classwork?” He inquires. Mrs. Yoon tells him it still needs improvement, but with more diligence on Mai’s end, her grade should pick up before school lets out for vacation.

The two settle for polite chat before Mrs. Yoon leaves him be. Jungkook finds the two of you again, stomach churning as he recalls that shift in his daughter. How evident it’s become in the last few weeks, especially without you there as often.

But tonight, he smiles, watching his daughter. No traces of her unexplained silence or that she is a little less talkative and hyper. He just sees Mai, the light of his life.

A laugh slips out of him, drawing others around him to look in the direction his eyes are fixed. A new song starts to play, and Mai jumps when she realizes what’s playing. Her mouth rounds, arms sticking straight up, “It’s our song!” She shouts at you.

Your lips curve into a wide smile, heart palpitating because she remembered you telling her months ago that this song reminded you of her. Mai screeches with glee when you lift her into your arms, her arms tying around your neck. For a moment, a toddler Mai appears right before your eyes, and you remember how her hands could not quite yet reach each other when she held you around your neck. An unexpected rush of love swells your heart just like it did all those years ago.

Mai giggles close to your ear as the two of you sing the lyrics together. You pull your face back to watch her expressions; her happiness creating an insurmountable feeling of ecstasy. It’s overwhelming and everything you need. Holding her in your arms, you hope it’s the same for her.

Jungkook blinks away the tears spilling in his eyes, his cheeks hurting from how long he’s been smiling. He starts singing the lyrics to distract himself, recalling that night.

It had become a tradition of sorts, ending dinner out in the backyard so Mai and Bam could use up the last of their energy. You and Jungkook would watch them, sometimes joining in on a game of tag or hide and seek.

He looks at you for a second, smiling when you start to giggle. Your eyes watching Mai; “what?” He asks.

“Hm,” you chuckle, “this is my ‘Mai’ playlist,” You turn to look at him, revealing a bashful smile, “this is our song.” Jungkook makes an effort to listen to the lyrics that utter sentiments of an enchanting meeting.

Before the song can end, Jungkook makes his way over to the two of you, making himself the only dad out on the floor.

He brushes his hand down Mai’s hair who was too lost in hugging you while the rest of the song played.

“Oh, hey,” you chuckle, Mai’s cheek still pressed against yours. Mai is quick to move her arm around Jungkook’s neck, pulling him close until his nose bumps your other cheek. The three of you giggle, making room for an extra set of feet. Jungkook settles to wrap you both in his arms, his left arm hugging your waist while the other rests around Mai’s.

He kisses the side of Mai’s head, a long sigh slipping past his lips when he finds you, your eyes already on him. You hear a few clicks of the school photographer’s camera nearby, allowing them to capture this moment of the three of you. Mai sings along to the song while holding onto the two of you, you and Jungkook sharing in a silent conversation. But you can hear him loud and clear, the love he has for you reaches across and ties around your heart.

“I love you, bean.” You press a long kiss on her cheek, coming back to see a blushing little babe, “thanks for taking me to the dance.” Mai holds your cheeks, showing you her smile because she knows how much you love to see her missing teeth, “love you,” she follows.

“You have fun?” You chuckle, tucking the comforter around her.

She nods, “I think we danced the best,” she yawns. Brushing her hair out of her face, you push your finger into her cheek, “We did, you���re a great dance partner.”

Jungkook appears with a soft giggle, his shirt untucked and feet now bare. He comes over to say goodnight, bending down to kiss Mai before sitting on the edge of the bed. For a moment, it’s quiet, you notice Mai look up at you then back at her dad.

“I need to tell daddy something,” she starts, “but you can’t be here.”

You roll your lips in, trying not to laugh before granting them their privacy.

“What’s up, bud?” Jungkook leans over Mai’s legs, propping his head against his hand.

“Mm,” Mai purses her lips, “it kinda’ felt like-” he can see her cheeks growing red, eyes struggling to meet his. He assures her with a smile, reaching over to brush his finger across her chin, “You feel happy?”

Mai nods, pulling her blanket up to hide the smile growing on her face, “It felt like I had a mom.” Her words come out quickly and muffled behind the blanket.

Jungkook’s heart stutters, finger tapping against his daughter’s cheek, “yeah?”

Mai nods again, “but don’t tell her.”

Jungkook drops his head, laughing into his daughter’s mattress.

He kisses her goodnight once more, allowing Bam to sleep with her for the night. Mai rests her small hand on top of Bam’s head when he lies on her stomach. His puppy eyes looking up at Jungkook; “just tonight,” he reiterates.

You stare at your phone, re-watching a video of you dancing with Mai that one of the moms sent to you. Jungkook slides his arms around your waist, causing you to jump up, “god,” you laugh with him, leaning your head back when he kisses you there.

“What’s that?” He muffles into your hair, twisting his head around to kiss your cheek before he’s resting his chin on top of your shoulder. His hands glide across your stomach when you play the video.

You feel his chest bounce against your back when he giggles, “Guess I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed watching you guys,” Jungkook admits. You turn your head to look at him before kissing his forehead.

It doesn’t take much for Jungkook to become lost in you, completely wrapped up and overtaken by absolute love. His lips hardly detach from yours when he turns you around in his arms. Heavy breath fanning over your face. Admittedly, you can’t deny what he stirs up in you. These feelings that battle against the fears demanding to be felt by you.

He groans against your kiss, pulling away to drop his forehead against your shoulder. You bite your lip, knowing already what’s starting. You rub the back of his head.

He reappears, his pupils blown out into hundreds of tiny hearts, “I love you,” he blushes, breathy chuckle escaping him, “this is going to sound like the douchiest thing I’ll ever say to you but, I love you so much it’s starting to hurt.”

A battle of tug of war starts inside of you, one end of the rope tugging you closer to Jungkook. You rub your palm down his cheek, your soft laugh falling in his ears, “it’s a little cringe but-” you shrug, your other hand dropping around his hip, “I love you, too.”

He closes the space, seeking out your lips. That rope inside you tugging you back when his palms smooth over your hips before pressing into them with his fingers. He walks backward until your lower back hits the kitchen counter.

“You’re so good to us,” he whispers into the kiss he’s pressing against your ear. Biting your lip, your hands push against him- everything in you wanting to give in. And for a moment, with your boyfriend’s lips trailing down your shoulder, you feel that wall begin to crumble brick by brick.

“I love you,” he parrots against your skin, tattooing you with another chaste kiss.

He stops, pressing his forehead against yours. You fall into his dark pools, a spark in them blinding you. All at once, the bricks build back up, and the need to protect yourself jolts through you like a lightning bolt.

Out of body, you can feel when Jungkook’s hands brush across your bottom, but in your place is another woman. You can’t see her face, you just know it isn’t you. He’s holding her close, his lips tantalizingly grazing her skin.

“Kook,” you stutter.

He moans in response, lips pressed against your clavicle, warm tongue pushing beyond the seam of his lips. A different woman appears this time, body stamped with Jungkook’s languid and thoughtful touches.

Your mind wages a war between the man in love with you and the man from the past.

He doesn’t commit. He loves you, but he won’t commit to you.

“Jungkook,” you push with more fervency, but you see the haze over him. You see that look in his eye that he’d given countless women on your nights out as friends. Just friends.

“Stop it-” you push him away, and his body gives at the first sound of panic in your tone. His hair is disheveled, lips stained with you.

“What-” he tries to piece together some sort of understanding, breathless.

“Don’t you listen?” Your tone is so defensive, it causes a piercing pain inside of him. Your shoulder hits him as you make your way to the door.

He drops his head, eyes clamped shut, while something bigger brews inside of him.

Of course, he hears you. He always hears you. Not having you, that wasn’t the entire problem.

All of these thoughts ravage his mind, and he follows you like a trailblazer, shutting the front door before you can escape.

“What are you doing?” His irritation only sets yours ablaze.

You pull your arm away before he can touch you, “trying to leave-”

“No,” he struggles through frustration, “why are we skirting around this? Tell me what’s bothering you.”

“I have the right to say no-”

“Baby,” he tosses his hands in the air, an exasperated laugh falling out of him, “shi- of course I know that. But I’m at a loss, we’ve been all over each other enough times before, what changed? Kissing you is starting to feel like I’m forcing you-”

You shake your head, “I’m not one of your women, Jungkook, don’t treat me like them.”

His face falls, everything on his body falls; your name draws out of him, “I’ve never seen you as anyone else but the woman I love-the woman I have so much damn respect for…”

“Then commit to me,” your voice shakes out of you, surprising even you, “prove to me that that’s true and tell me you’d want to marry me.”

Jungkook drops his head, tongue pushing into the side of his cheek.

A tempered laugh falls out of you, “or should I sleep with you first? Would that make it easier for you to commit-”

“What are you-are you serious?” Jungkook cracks, “How much more can I prove to you?” The shattering in his eyes bores right into you, “Do I need to tattoo it onto my chest-” he grabs the collar of his shirt and yanks it open, “to prove to you that I love you and I am dedicated to you? Wh-why do we need a stupid piece of paper to prove our love for each other? What does it matter if you can’t trust what I’m saying- if you can’t trust me?”

“Why don’t you want to get married? Why is it stupid?” You rap back.

“Because!” He yells out of frustration, hands tossed forward, “I’m afraid you’re just going to leave me! What good does a paper do when you can’t even stand me touching you? It won’t make you stay-” his words drop like an atomic bomb, an eerie silence following.

He sniffles, barely able to look in your direction. Your hands ache from how tightly fisted they are, chest weighed down from holding back the tears inside.

“Just go,” he opens the door, “if you really believe I’ve only seen you as some other woman this entire time, still? Then leave.”

You blink, flashes of the past taunting you before you escape to your car. Jungkook stares at the door after you leave, defeat washed over him.

Jungkook throws himself into packing up their house and moving into the new one. Between work, taking care of Mai, and moving, he isn’t allowed to think about anything else, too tired by the end of the night to lie awake in bed. The only time he entertains a thought about you is when Mai sleeps in her brand-new bed for the first night.

Jungkook sends you a picture of it, Mai giving a thumbs up, sitting at the head of the bed you built for her. A second later he FaceTimes you and for a moment you hesitate to answer, waiting to the last second before you hit that green button.

Mai’s face appears on the screen, you notice the downward turn in her eyes immediately before she’s distracting you with a loud thanks. Her smile makes the butterflies in your stomach come alive.

When she’s done talking, she hands the phone back to her dad. His eyes struggle to keep their focus on you while he tells Mai to get under the blanket, “We’re uh- we’re still good for next week?” He finally looks at you. You nod. He has a brief trip for a seminar, leaving Mai to stay at your apartment for a couple of days during the week.

“Can we bring Bammie-” Jungkook is already cutting Mai off, telling her he’ll wreck your apartment by his sheer size. You chuckle, enjoying the father-daughter moment before Jungkook tells you goodnight. He stalls for a second, running his teeth over his lips like he does when he’s thinking about something.

I love you.

“Goodnight,” you fill in the gap before hanging up.

“Listen,” Jungkook starts, and Mai can hear the immediate stiffening in his tone when he sits next to her, the double-size mattress allowing him the space now, “just because you’re sleeping over there doesn’t mean you stop doing your homework-”

Mai whines, her head falling back dramatically. Jungkook tells her to sit up, holding his hand around her neck when she lulls it to the side, “I am serious Mai, this is the third time I’m meeting your teacher about your schoolwork, enough is enough.”

Mai whips out of his grip, wiggling beneath her blanket and pulling it tight so he can’t get to her. Jungkook sighs, “You know we can talk about anything that might be upsetting you, right?” He looks down as she thins her lips, big eyes avoiding his stare.

“What’s gotten into you? Somethings’ gotta be going on, bean…” His worries expand, wondering if he’s missed a tell-tale sign because he’s been so distracted trying to keep his relationship with you intact. The doubt he has about being a good enough partner for you is taken by his doubt as a father. A doubt he hasn’t felt since Mai was born, even now, it runs deeper.

“Nothing,” Mai mutters, hugging one of her stuffed animals against her chest, “I wanna sleep, Dad.”

Jungkook nods, blinking slowly, “I love you…”

Mai turns away from him, pressing her head into the pillow, “love you.”

For a few minutes you enjoy watching Mai eat her snack, missing the way she can’t normally sit still and talking with a mouthful. She still smiles when she finds you looking, but there's a lack in her eyes that has you wondering the same questions her dad does.

Her eyebrows raised as she tosses a baby carrot in her mouth, “Are you and Dad gonna break up?”

Your eyes widen, “I see subtlety is not your strong suit, smarty pants…how do you come to these conclusions?”

She rolls her eyes telling you she has no idea what that means before bringing her point home, “you and dad were yelling after the dance and dad never yells unless I’m in real big trouble,” she emphasizes with her eyes, “or when Bam used to poop in the house except dad scared-yelled then, not angry-yelled. I think Bammie is his favorite now-”

“Mai,” you laugh, “really?”

Mai pokes out her bottom lip, tipping her shoulder up in a very matter-of-fact way.

A smirk leans across your lips, “Need I remind you, you are seven-”

Mai holds her hand up after taking a big bite of the sandwich you made for her, a little bit of mayo left on the corner of her mouth, “almost eight!”

“Yes, but you’re still a kid who needs to mind her own business,” you say, reaching over to pinch her nose.

“Just saying,” she defends herself, “plus, you aren’t staying for sleepovers anymore either…”

You stay quiet, pressing your cup of chilled tea against your lips.

“You probably wouldn’t want to anyways, the new house is sad,” Mai sighs, “everyone is just sad.”

A pang of guilt runs through you, “that everyone include you too?”

She leans her cheek against her hand, “even daddy and me are fighting…kinda’.”

You click your tongue, leaning across the counter to be closer to her, “Your grandma has been filling me in - what’s that about?”

She shrugs, mumbling, ‘I don’t know.’

You take in her mostly expressionless face, but her eyes tell an entirely different story of the one she isn’t saying.

“Hey, cutie,” you tap her chin, causing her to look up, “you know I’m here, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know,” she surprises you with a quick response, “you promised me.”

You comb your fingers back through her hair, “and look, just because your dad and I are dealing with adult things,” you arch an eyebrow to make your point, “doesn’t mean he’s upset with you about it- so maybe go easy on him, hm? He’s just worried about you.”

“If I have to do that, why don’t you do it too for daddy?” Mai retorts. Her eyes shoot open when she realizes what she’s just said, retreating into herself; “sorry.”

You brush the comment away, clearing your throat.

“All he does anymore is ask about my dumb grades,” Mai starts again, pouting this time, “or if I was good in class and nice to the other kids.”

A sympathetic smile widens your grin, “Well, your track record hasn’t exactly been spotless lately…”

“I’m trying still,” Mai reasons, “daddy doesn’t see it, nobody sees it, but hello? I’m still a kid, I can’t do everything!”

You spat, dropping your head because somehow, Mai always finds a way to let her spunk shine.

“Well,” you come around the breakfast nook and stand next to her, “let’s keep trying and do some of that make-up work you have, or else we will both be in trouble.” Mai hops off the bar stool and takes your hand, the two of you walking into your living room.

Jungkook returns from his brief trip with a little bit of hope, having seen how much Mai perked up with you through short videos she sent from your phone or selfies of the two of you posted on your social media.

When he called to check in on the night he arrived at his hotel, there was a moment he thought you would talk. A shift in your breathing had him preparing the words swimming in his mind, wanting more than anything for you to know he is still in this. But somewhere his courage to talk about it was lost, he couldn’t be sure if it was you or him that redirected that conversation before you said goodnight. You both knew a conversation needed to happen. Jungkook makes an effort in a roundabout way by asking you out for dinner a few times. But swamped with two deadlines, working from home conveniently keeps you busier than before.

It’s both surprising and unsurprising when Nic tells you she’s staying out of it.

“You don’t listen to me anyway,” she said in a recent phone call, “because for some reason you like to torture yourself and you’re going to hate me for this, but- you like to torture him too, with silence. I’ve known you two long enough to know your patterns and- wait no-nope, nope nope- I said I was staying out of it, so I’m zipping it…”

You couldn’t deny it.

“I’m pulling up to the school now,” Jungkook tells you over the phone, a sigh dripping from his lips when he puts the car in park, waiting in a line of cars with the other parents, “you’re heading over now?”

“Mhm,” you answer, “just realized I don’t have a key to the new house though-”

He looks down at the extra key he had made for you when the house was officially signed over to him months ago, keeping it on his keyring because he initially planned to ask you to move in before that plan was - postponed? He blinks, coming out of his thoughts, “I’m sorry, it’s been uh-”

“I know,” you breathe. The sound of it eases over Jungkook; “I bought some groceries to make dinner for all of us,” Jungkook can hear you nervously chewing on your lip between sentences, “then I thought maybe-um- we could have some alone time after Mai goes to bed, to talk…”

His lips stretch upward with relief, “Yes, please.” His eyes find Mai who is walking out of the building with her friend. Her friend whispering something close to her ear; innocent little secrets, Jungkook thinks to himself.

He hears you gulp, “Maybe I should save this for later, but I’m sorry and I love you-” Jungkook can feel his heart fluttering, eyes still watching Mai, when the next sight of her has his heart plummeting into his stomach.

Did she just smack her friend?

A few teachers nearby see it, rushing over to the two girls when Mai raises her hand to repeat her previous action.

“What- Mai!” Jungkook stretches his head out toward the open passenger window, the streak of panic in his voice has you almost dropping your phone; “what’s wrong?” You ask in a frenzy.

“I need to call you back.” Jungkook hangs up before you can answer. He rips his seatbelt off and hurries off to the curb in a few brisk steps, grabbing Mai’s arm to pull her away from her friend. The little girl is crying, holding her hand against her head where Mai slapped her.

“What are you thinking?” Jungkook scolds Mai when she starts to cry, pushing against his leg in an attempt to set herself free from his strong grip.

“Mr. Jeon,” Ms. Choi, who was standing near the entrance, called him in a shaking tone, “let’s go to my office, now please?”

Mai’s friend and mother are ushered off to the nurse's room for an ice pack while Jungkook and Mai pile into the principal’s office along with the teachers who witnessed it.

He can’t deny that he just watched his daughter hit her friend, nor does he try, his skin hot with frustration as Mai tries to excuse her way out of it. Her words are jumbled by her erratic crying.

“I’m going to go talk to them in a separate room,” Ms. Choi says, still a little shaken, “give her a chance to calm down while I get their side of the story.”

“Daddy,” Mai cries to Jungkook when the principal leaves the room.

He turns his head, eyebrows straight on his face, “I don’t want to hear it right now-”

“But-”

“When we get home, Mai,” he raises his voice enough to quiet her.

After a lengthy discussion, with little to no explanation given by Mai once prompted, the principal decides she has no choice but to suspend Mai from school for the remaining weeks left until summer vacation. She informs Jungkook that Mai only has make-up work she needs to complete in order to move onto the next grade.

“I hope you understand why we need to do this, Mr. Jeon,” Ms. Choi says in a softer tone, a certain telling on her face before she continues, “I know single-parenting is not easy,” she lets out a heavy sigh, “my-my husband passed away a few years ago.” Jungkook can feel himself crawling beneath her pity, “but we will not tolerate physical violence. We’ve had Mai with us for seven years, and we’d love to have her back for the new school year, but only if these issues are handled accordingly.”

He doesn’t say anything more than agreement and an apology following Mai’s bitter one. His hand fits around Mai’s elbow as they walk back out to their car. She struggles beneath his tight grip, proving unsuccessful when he opens the door for her to get into the back; “you’re being mean!” She yells. Jungkook takes a deep breath, tossing her bag into the back, using all his control not to slam the door shut.

The drive is silent besides Mai’s whimpers, short words uttered that Jungkook is too angry to hear himself. Too confused. The only settling he feels is when you get out of your car as they pull up, a lost expression on your face when the two of you make eye contact.

“Hey bean-” you’re cut off when Mai brushes past you, her tears and anger very evident. You look up at Jungkook when he retrieves her things, his head shaking. You rub his back as the two of you walk up to the door, letting Mai in, who is ready to run to her room.

“Stop,” Jungkook’s voice booms through the once quiet home. Bam, who was eager to welcome all of you, retreats to his bed; “Come back here, Mai.”

Mai turns back at the sound of her dad’s tone, eyes flitting past you, and you can see the embarrassment. You know he wouldn’t talk to her like this if it wasn’t serious, but your heart aches at the way her cheeks start to turn red; “I’ll uh- I’ll start dinner,” you look down at Mai whose arms are crossed, tears still running down her face, “maybe you should take her in your room, Kook-”

“Daddy won’t listen,” Mai surprises you both, her small voice rising in volume, “I don’t wanna talk!”

With wide eyes, you meet Jungkook’s less than pleased ones, though you know he is stirring beneath shock as well; “Mai, you don’t raise your voice at-”

“You don’t hear me, nobody hears me!” She screams at him, hands fisted so tight as she runs off to her room.

Jungkook starts to follow her when you squeeze his arm, eyes begging him to stay. The strain in his face has you feeling for both of them, “give her a minute.”

Jungkook curses, parts of him healed when he feels you rub his arm, “I have a showing, I can’t cancel again-”

You pat his shoulder, “Go, I’ll um-I’ll do what I can here after she cools off.”

Jungkook thanks you with a silent stare, stepping forward to kiss you when he stops himself. For a moment, he’d forgotten about the unsettled ground the two of you are standing on. You grab his hand and rub his palm, “Go, babe.” He kisses the palm of your hand before he rushes out the door.

You busy yourself with dinner, chopping up vegetables, starting the rice, and preparing the meat, while you’ve given yourself enough of a pep talk before journeying towards Mai’s room.

“Bean,” your tone is careful but direct, knocking a couple of times before inching the door open, “it’s just me.” You poke your head in, eyes immediately falling on the bed where Mai is face-planted into the pillow. You have to bite back a smile, moving over carefully.

You stroke her back once before sitting next to her. For a minute, you think she might be sleeping when you hear her sniffle, her small body jolting, which tells you she is starting to cry again. You can’t help but feel a pang in your chest, knowing there needs to be some sort of discipline. But whatever occurred, the sheer pain it’s causing Mai becomes most evident to you.

“You gotta’ come up for air at some point,” you giggle, tears casting over your eyes, “come on, little one.” For that moment, Mai is the tiny baby you need to save.

You continue to run your hand up and down her back, moving her hair out of the way. Mai refuses to sit up for the first few minutes, but when she finally does, her reddened face struggles to find you.

You wipe her tears away and brush her hair back before leaving for a few minutes. Mai’s cries are quieted when you return with a dampened face towel.

You press the warm towel around Mai’s face and to the back of her neck, repeating those motions while the strain begins to seep out of her slowly; “my mom used to do this whenever I was upset-” you tell her.

Mai finally looks into your eyes, her long eyelashes are wet and clumped together. But you can see a slight shift when you smile at her, “always made me feel better.”

You can see the questions in her mind, maybe wondering how well you’ll listen to her.

“Feel like telling me what happened?” You settle into her bed, sitting back against the headboard. Mai stays stiff for a few seconds, eyes wandering back toward you until she’s scooting back herself. Her arm rests next to yours, fingers playing with the fringe around her pillowcase.

Hearing about Mai getting physical and slapping her friend makes your insides jump. You watch her explain what Jungkook must have seen, trying to keep your mind focused on her voice rather than the questions permeating there. It’s only when Mai starts to cry, looking up at you, do you realize something more is creeping beneath her unexplained anger.

So you wait, taking Mai’s hand in yours while she cries, her head finding a place against your shoulder. You know even more how confused her dad must be, and when she starts to talk again, you know nothing could prepare him for this.

“There was a n-new girl in my math class,” Mai is disrupted by a heavy cry, swallowing back as much as she can before she continues, “my friend told her I don’t have a mom-”

The wind is knocked out of you, you shut your eyes, hand accidentally tightens around Mai’s.

“And they all started to make f-fun of me-me,” Mai hiccups.

Your heart shatters when Mai tells you the bullying began months ago, when school started. Thoughtless words meant to hurt her, taunted by a group of kids who were eventually joined by Mai’s friend. You press your lips together, holding back cries of anger and sadness, every emotion becoming a deluge inside of you, just waiting to break free.

But you continue to wait, only stopping Mai to remind her that she can still breathe.

“I called that girl that mean name because during reading time-” Mai finds you again as if to make sure you are still listening and you nod, wiping her tears though they continue to fall, “because she-she would say mean things about me not having a mom li-like they do.” Mai’s face falls against your arm; you wrap your hand behind her head.

“I thought that if-I thought if you came to the dance with me, they would stop because you’re kinda’ like my mom,” her staccato cries jump against your arm where her mouth is pressed.

You turn to face Mai, holding her wet face between your hands, “It didn’t stop,” she cries, “they just got meaner.”

“Mai,” you’re at a loss for words, breath thinning as you pull her into your lap. Her cries deepen when she feels you cradle her in your arms, pressing her face against your chest.

All you can do is let her cry, her tears staining your skin and wetting the collar of your t-shirt, “it’s not my fault-it’s not.”

“No, it’s not bean,” you can’t stop the tsunami from flooding out of her, pressing kisses onto the top of Mai’s head while repeating that truth.

No. No. No. This is not your fault.

Bam finds his way in at the sound of Mai’s sorrow. You hold her as closely as you can, her uneven breaths casting over your neck as she continues to cry there. At some point, her tears become lost with yours as you think about the year she must have endured.

Quietly. Silently.

It all adds up.

“I love you, Mai,” you say in a trembling breath, “I am so sorry you’ve been hurting.”

Pain finds form in various ways, like the way your eyes strain from crying. It moves you to look down at Mai who has cried every tear she can, her eyes pressed closed and swollen now. Your hand has become numb from where it’s stayed around her back, the other brushing through her hair. Nothing else existed in those moments while you held her. The evening of her breath, the tears that eventually stopped, the way her small hand rested underneath her cheek, that’s all that mattered.

Her whimpering slows into short hums as you rock back and forth, the slow movement allowing her to feel the first peace she’s felt in a while. Her long body barely fits in your lap like it used to, but neither of you cares. A few times she looks up at you, before she reaches up to wipe the stray tears you shed yourself.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry,” she squeaks, voice hoarse.

You smile despite it all, “You are worth every tear, bean.” A memory of Mai as a baby, held in your arms, rushes you. She notices the way your eyes water again, causing her to smile this time.

Four teeth missing, you think to yourself.

“We’re babies,” she jokes, hiccuping from the last few cries that still sit in her chest. You lean down and nuzzle your nose against her forehead.

“Hey-” Jungkook’s voice appears, neither of you hearing the front door when he walked in. His eyes lift when Mai looks at him, the obvious face of his crying child clear to him. He then moves over your face as you wipe it dry, noting to himself the way you are holding Mai, much like you did all those years ago when she was a baby and Jungkook asked you to be at his old apartment with them.

“Daddy-” Mai sounds breathless for a moment, rushing out of your arms and into his. He doesn’t hesitate to lift her into his embrace. He questions you when she holds him around his neck, the sound of gentle sniffling starting up in his ear.

“Mai needs to talk to you,” you breathe, and Jungkook can hear the unevenness in your tone. So he walks back to the bed, sitting Mai in his lap when he sits next to you.

Mai looks at you, waiting for that nod of reassurance. Your hand searches for Jungkook’s, wrapping your fingers around his when Mai starts to tell the same story to him.

The sun has fallen, and crickets chirp from their places in the backyard. A smile finds its way on your face, thinking about the security you felt wrapped around you when Jungkook hugged both you and Mai. Once he learned about the bullying, all he could do was hold onto his daughter, bringing you with them. Mai cried with him while you braved your tears away for the time being.

His hand brushes your shoulder when he comes out, slotting himself between your legs this time, his back against your chest. You ease his head back until it rests against your shoulder, combing his hair back with your fingers.

You can see the tears still there and the way he tries to blink them away, eyes searching the black sky painted above you; “I can’t believe I didn’t know this was going on.” Jungkook’s breath is unsteady. It stays quiet for a beat before he sits up, moving to sit next to you, his body leaning forward.

You watch this pillar of a man, the love of your life, crumble. Eyes blinking rapidly to phase the tears away, you touch his back with a cautious hand. His eyes are wet when he looks at you. “I’m trying,” he laughs desperately, “I’m trying my best here because I love my kid.”

“Jungkook, you have been an excellent father. Nobody is expecting perfection, especially Mai. All she wants is your love, and you’ve never been short of giving that to her…” The crease in your brow deepens. “There’s a lot to figure out, and we’ll start by going to the school tomorrow.”

“I called Ms. Choi after Mai fell asleep - gave her a brief explanation,” Jungkook says, “we’re going to meet tomorrow with those kids and their parents.”

“Good,” you brush your thumb over his ear, “I can-I can go, if you want me-”

He’s already nodding before you can finish, “We need you there.” Your heart squeezes at the despair in his voice.

You see it in his eyes that he’s not just talking about Mai. You feel your throat constrict when he doesn’t turn away from you, sitting upright; “god, I’m trying here too - to understand you. Trying to figure out what works best for us because I don’t want this to end. I am committed to you…” All of this rolls out of him.

You bite your lip when it starts to tremble.

“I know why you stopped talking to me all those times back then, when you caught me,” he shakes his head, “I hate thinking about it, knowing now how you felt about me, I get it.” He looks at you, fingers finding yours; “it still hurt though, not having you to talk to or to be around even if it was just for a few days we didn’t talk- I always knew something was wrong.”

The determination to hold your gaze sits bright on Jungkook’s face, traces of guilt in your fingertips that rub across the tattoos on his hand; “I never imagined marriage in my future- and maybe it’s not fair for me to be afraid but,” he lets out a disheartened laugh, wiping his face, “how do I marry someone that runs away before we can face the problem, someone who looks, I don’t know, horrified, whenever I touch her?”

Your eyes fall into your lap, tears dripping much like Mai’s did. Jungkook turns until his knee hits yours, his hand moving to rest on the side of your thigh. It’s love that you feel when he starts smoothing his palm there.

“That night, after I stopped you in your bedroom,” you sniffle, following courage to lift your head and look him in the eye, “I st-started to see all of these women just there every time you kissed me or touched me. They taunted me, made me feel incompetent…” you laugh, tears falling one after the other.

Jungkook loves you with his eyes, waiting on bated breath while you string together every word you can; “Jungkook I want to take the next step but, I have a lot of fears when it comes to that with you and I started to believe there was no other way to commit but get married, an-and I want that too but-” he never takes his eyes off of you as you continue to work through your words, “I’m afraid, I’m afraid that I won’t add up to whatever you are expecting from me.”

He leans in closer and wraps his hands around your neck, moving them across your skin so you can feel him, him - Jungkook- the man you love, “you…that’s all I expect is you, you are all I want.”

Your face falls, and as a wave of relief crashes over you, you realize the thing you feared most held the answer you’ve so desperately needed.

“I respect you,” he continues, dropping his hands to rest on top of your legs, “I don’t want to do anything you aren’t ready for… I also just love you,” he sniffles a brief laugh, “I want to show you that.”

You move your hand behind his neck, tenderly rubbing his skin, “I-I want to too-I really do. I just-” you sigh, carefully piecing together all you’ve observed about this man over the years, “you don’t have to always be physical with me to show me you love me. Y-your love for me goes beyond how you can make my body feel, Jungkook.”

It’s then he realizes the crutch he’s used for so many years before dating you.

If nobody was willing to accept his love, at least they would accept his body.

But here, sitting with you, having you next to him? For the first time, Jungkook takes a deep breath and lets it all go. You love him for the man he is inside, as torn as he may be in parts, you accept him despite your own fears.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, moving your hand down his arm until it lands safely inside of his. He takes your fingers and threads them through his. “I’m sorry for making you feel like this.”

“I’m sorry too, baby,” his eyes dart up to yours. A tender laugh falls out of you, stomach doing flips as you pull your boyfriend in for a hug. He feels safe wrapped up in your arms, and you revel in the way he leans his weight against you.

“It is us, Kook,” you chuckle into his hair, “if we figured out as friends how to raise a whole kid, we can figure out what loving each other looks like.”

Jungkook sits up, a smile now stretched across his face. For a moment, the sunlight catches that small ring on his lip, causing you to giggle. He puts his hands around your face this time, “and I do love you, I’ll spend forever showing you that.”

Desperate to feel him, you lean forward until his lips catch yours.

“Me too.” You whisper.

With more clarity, life doesn’t stop the three of you from moving with the whirlwind of constant motion. Mai’s summer vacation starts on hopeful ground, but the matter between those kids and Mai is brought to an abrupt end when Mai’s friend confesses to everything. Within that first week of the summer month, the other kids follow until the situation is brought to full light. Mai was still reprimanded for hitting her friend, and with tutoring sessions once a week, Jungkook’s daughter was already blossoming into the wonderful little girl you both have raised.

He marveled at her when she expressed one day that she wanted to move on and start at a different school. “I’m not mad at my friend anymore, but I wanna make real friends,” Mai said, popping her head up from the coloring book in front of her while you and Jungkook cuddled underneath a blanket, watching a show you had quickly become addicted to. You rested your cheek against Jungkook’s chest, rubbing his stomach when you felt him sigh. A wide smile spread across his cheeks.

You settled for the kind of awkwardness that fell over the kitchen one night when Mai let ‘mom’ slip out when talking about you, soon after she was seeking a hiding place behind her dad, who stood still as stone. After coaxing Mai into your safe hold, the two of you determined that the endearment was to be determined. Mai settled the matter entirely with a reassuring hug that flooded your body with more love than you knew what to do with.

The three of you celebrated with a weekend getaway at the beach after your home business reached its first milestone. You and Jungkook chasing Mai and Bam, who officially graduated from puppy training school, around the sand. Bam barked after Mai whenever she swam too far from him as he watched her from the shore with you next to him, wanting his little, loyal companion to be by his side at all times.

In the last month of Mai’s summer vacation, you often found yourself observing the little girl in silence. Wondering what on earth life would’ve been like if she had never come to be. It didn’t matter how; it just mattered that she was here, born to a father who was once so terrified but now he walked this tightrope with his daughter safe in his arms. And a dog to boot.

There were several nights of tears following her experience of being bullied, some nights when she muttered words of a lost identity she would never know because of her absent mother, something far too complex for a young girl to comprehend. You were there for all of them, sitting there with her and Jungkook and taking in every ache Mai had to share. You assured both of them you would continue to be there for the years to come. It wasn’t easy, and there were times Jungkook had no clue what to say. But where words failed, he mended her wounds with long hugs, cuddling her to sleep with you hugging Mai on the other side of her bed.

Once she was safe in her dreams, you and Jungkook made it a point to be together. Learning the comforts of intimacy in other ways drew you closer to Jungkook. Talking about fears when they came up. Working to understand why one was feeling a certain way. Feeling your heart grow in size, the images of his past began to fade away until they no longer existed. Kissing Jungkook became yours again, being held by him - something only you knew with him.

Jungkook steeps in this feeling, as secure as he’d felt with you as his friend, he was starting to understand it while falling for you, it was growing stronger with each day. Watching you fight away those demons, not allowing them to hurt you anymore, he was realizing how prized he was in your eyes. You loved him in a way he never thought he deserved. And as much as he was eager to get to a place where he could share himself with you, he was learning this kind of love needed respect to feel how true it was.

It was still rocky, but there was a clear path forming, and the two of you made sure to remind each other when needed, that it would always be you and him.

Living this life begins to settle into place, it nestles into a part of you that leaves you sure about the decision you’d been mulling over since it was brought up.

“Really?” Jungkook’s face mirrored the childlike glee you saw so often in his daughter, excitement so simple. It made your insides burst when Jungkook lifted you into a hug, “You really want to move in?”

You just nod, lips bunched into the brightest smile that Jungkook knew he would remember forever.

You can’t help but recall that night as you fill your side of the closet Jungkook made for you, unpacking boxes one at a time. Your eyes widen for a moment when you look around you, feeling slightly suffocated by what was left. Jungkook was helping you before he had to start dinner for his parents who would be coming over.

“Baby?” He calls from the hallway.

“Yeah?” You shout, putting a blouse onto a hanger when you hear him enter the closet.

“You forgot a box-“ he says.

“Huh,” you arch an eyebrow, looking at all of your boxes, “no?“

You turn around to look at Jungkook, who’s standing straight like a pin, a dish towel draped over his shoulder. Mai comes in giggling, leaning herself against Jungkook’s legs and hugging him there.

You laugh, “I’ve got them all here…“ Your breath stills in your throat, forcing you to stop when your eyes drop to the small box in his hand.

The sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, everything begins to move slowly, “Kook- wh-what is that, what are you do-“

Jungkook lowers to one knee and opens the box to reveal a ring, breath shaking out of him when he starts to speak, “I love you,” a nervous giggle interrupts him, “baby, it’s you and me, it’s always going to be us - will you marry me?”

Mai can’t stop her giggles while yours hiccup out of you, nerves tingling in your fingers, causing you to drop the blouse in your hands, “are you serious?”

All he can do is nod, swallowed by his own nerves, while Mai can’t contain herself.

“Yes- what? Yes, Jungkook,” you start to cry, emotions pulled between disbelief and sheer ecstasy. Mai’s excitement explodes, jumping around the two of you when Jungkook stands and swallows you in a hug. She wraps her arms around your bodies, cheering into her dad’s side.

An unexplained peace rushes you when you pull Jungkook back to look at him. All you can see for that moment in time is the man you love, you see his tears and feel his arms around you. He mouths an ‘I love you,’ that has you doing the same, Mai’s joyous noises pressed into both of you while you share your quiet moment.

You and Jungkook breathe small laughs while setting the dining table when Mai answers the door for her grandparents, shouting, “She said yes she said yes!” Before greeting them properly. Jungkook’s arm wraps around your hip when he goes to kiss the side of your head, “think she’s more excited than us,” he teases.

After dinner, the five of you end the evening out in the backyard, your hand feeling sore from the way Mrs. Jeon and Mai take turns to gawk at your ring.

“Excited to start at your new school soon, bug?” Mr. Jeon gleamed at his granddaughter who sat on his lap. Mai jostles her head with an eager nod, “One more week!” She announces.

Jungkook rubs your shoulder, the three of you laughing. You nestle into his side, enjoying this feeling.

The night grows quieter with ease. Feeling Jungkook’s eyes on you has you nearly forgetting that his family is there too while they coddle Mai.

There is a shift inside of you when you look back at him. All of these months since having that conversation, focusing on Mai’s healing while figuring out the reigns to your relationship together, every measure of his commitment you’ve felt, it overwhelms you. It sits brighter than the ring on your finger, though catching glimpses of it still makes your heart stutter.

This feeling blooms inside of you, it brushes your skin in a tickling rush, causing you to sink further into Jungkook’s embrace.

“I love you,” you whisper to him.

He senses it, uncaring for those next few seconds as he kisses you. With a passing glance from Mrs. Jeon, she just smiles to herself, distracting Mai further.

What’s desired is expressed through fluttering blinks, left to wondering minds between you and Jungkook as you share the rest of the evening with his family. Subtle hints are given through passing touches or the way your fingers sneak beneath the collar of his t-shirt to touch the space below his neck.

“I’m really happy,” Mai tells you once in bed for the night, her small hands mushing your cheeks together.

“You make me happy, bean,” you snort into her skin, causing her to yelp.

“Night, my baby,” Jungkook bends down to kiss her, “sleep tight.”

“I won’t let the bedbugs bite,” Mai repeats their ever-famous tag line before whispering final good nights.

There’s only a breath of space between you and your true love when you shut the door to Mai’s bedroom.

“Hey.” You breathe, eyes drunk with love, and you can see his pupils dilate at the mere sound of your voice.

You chuckle, shaking your head because this man has you wrapped up in safety and love. It takes your breath away and all you want in that moment is to have him feel the same.

Every motion you and Jungkook make is done with utmost consideration for each other. Nerves bind with excitement. Sighs mingled with giggles. When he feels you move in haste, he reminds you there’s time. Allowing yourself to become lost in vulnerability beneath the captor of your heart. Your willing heart becomes exposed because you want more than anything to show every part of it to Jungkook.

He handles you carefully, both with his hands and in heart. Because he knows that most fragile part of you now sits inside his palms. A few times his breath stops when he peers down at you, your hair splayed over the pillows, sparkling eyes beaming up at him. He starts to feel what’s left of those insecurities wash away until they cease to exist.

All he can feel with each tender brush of skin and lasting kiss is pure and absolute love.

A sweet smile spreads across your face when a sleeping Jungkook falls into your sight, his mouth slightly agape. You move your hand up and push your fingers through his growing hair, rolling your eyes because who knows how your man’s hair will look next week.

You always wondered what this would be like. Being the first to wake up, still a little too early in the morning, but the first thing you’re drawn to is the person lying next to you, lightly snoring. How drunk you would feel off the sheer love shared with this person, but of course, the person in mind was always your best friend. Back then, it was a mere fantasy, one you were certain would never see the light of day but would stay buried only in the deepest part of your mind.

Now, nerves tingle through your body and you can feel the sheet laid over your bodies. It feels exciting and still, a little terrifying.

Jungkook begins to stir beneath your touch, groaning. You come to, only to be reduced to a puddle when he wraps his hand around your forearm to pull you close to him. His skin is warm from the mattress, and perhaps lasting traces are carried over from last night.

“So early,” he mutters, kissing your hand that is held in his.

You peer over at the clock on his side of the bed, haze immediately broken when you note the time, knowing Mai will be up soon. The first place she travels to is her dad’s room - your room- for a morning cuddle with the two of you. You hope she never grows out of it, and for a second, your heart aches at the thought of her turning 8 soon.

But today it’s different, and you’re horrified suddenly by the thought of your bare bodies shielded only by a thin sheet. Jungkook opens one eye when he feels you move the sheet off of you, ready to swing your legs off the bed when he stops you, gently holding you by the wrist and bringing you back to the warmth of his chest, “Where are you going?” He whines, his morning voice sits close to your ear.

You push him away despite every part of you craving to stay glued to the love of your life; “Kook, I should get up before Mai comes in here-“ you peel your wrist away from his strong but mindful grip, eliciting a more serious tone from him.

“Hey-“ he proves to be the stronger one, his careful approach bringing you back to him, looking at you with soft, tired eyes. He pulls your chin between his fingers, mouth hovering over yours- that smile, those eyes, he’s irresistible when you hear him whisper, “kiss me.”

And so you do, a few times before he finally looks at you again; “just relax-” his appeal is slow, conscious of you, “stay in bed.“

The part of you that’s scared wants to keep fighting it but the way he’s looking at you speaks volumes to the part that feels safe there. Now, a year ago, when Jungkook was telling you he was in love with you too, and learning what all of that meant in the time following, the sheer terror of intimacy with Jungkook. It ceased to exist right here. You wondered if you would ever make it here, the morning following a night like last night.

Would you wake up steeped in deep regret, despite sharing it with the person you’ve loved for far too long? Or would it be pure ecstasy, a heated blush still rushing through your body as you recall every action.

Jungkook is still holding you close, a glazed look in his eye as he keeps you inside the haven he’s created in his hands, just for you.

You can’t help but smile, knowing you were feeling the latter.

“Baby?” You finally speak, and it surprises him, making him jump. You laugh, cooing over him before apologizing with a kiss to his chest.

“Mhm?” He chuckles, fingers combing through your hair.

“This was perfect,” you draw small circles over his pec, noting the goosebumps that form over his skin from your languorous touch, “you’re perfect for me.”

He stops breathing for a second, and in the next your world is spinning when he moves you to lie on your back as he hovers over you. Your eyes are wide, which makes him giggle, his eyes falling with the sweetest expression on his face. You know he’s feeling blissful.

“You think so?” He queries with a smirk.

You simply nod, reaching up to caress the side of his neck and cheek.

All he can do is respond with a kiss- maybe three. By the time he’s done, you’re left in a giggling heap beneath him, begging him to stop his teasing touches as he runs his fingers up and down your sides.

A light knock at the bedroom door sends him flying off you and nearly off the bed.

Mai’s soft voice follows behind it, “Daddy?”

You rip the sheet away from Jungkook and drape it around yourself, leaving him with nothing but a belly laugh as he watches your panic; “I told you!” You scold him between clenched teeth. He can’t help but find your modesty endearing, watching you run to the bathroom while he finds clothes to put on.

“Morning, bean,” he greets his little girl at the door, picking her up and holding her in his arms for a moment. He loves how she smells in the morning, the scent of her shampoo from last night’s bath still in her hair, how she yawns into his shoulder before croaking a good morning back to him.

She asks for you, and he smiles, “showering,” he answers.

Mai gasps and sits up in her dad’s arms, mouth round as she says, “Let’s surprise her and make her waffles!”

Jungkook kisses Mai’s forehead, beside himself, before agreeing.

So, there are still things you have to get used to. You laugh at yourself while in the shower, lathering shampoo into your hair. A part of you doesn’t want to wash away what Jungkook impressed upon your skin. The way he muttered words of love against your stomach, or how his warm breath tickled your bare shoulder with his future vows to you.

His voice replays in your ear where he kissed you, “you and me.”

[megumismyhusband]

▶︎•၊၊||၊|။||||။၊|။• secret door- arctic monkeys

rin is your person.

he always has been.

the one who waits for you after class, standing by the door with his hands tucked into his pockets like he’s not been lingering for you the whole time. the one who knows exactly how you like your coffee. the one who remembers the stories you told him years ago, little things you’d long since forgotten until he brings them up like they’re important.

because to rin, they are.

and it’s moments like those that make you wonder.

wonder if the way his eyes soften when he looks at you means something. if the warmth in his voice when he murmurs, “you’re okay,” after a long day is more than just friendly concern. if the way his fingers linger at your wrist—gentle, grounding—is his way of saying, i’m here. i’ve always been here.

it’s enough to keep you hopeful. enough to make your heart flutter when you imagine what it might be like if you just told him.

but rin is your friend first. and you’re scared of what happens if that changes.

so you stay quiet.

and then she shows up.

it’s innocent at first—he mentions her name in passing, some girl in his class who’s “pretty cool.” you brush it off because, well, you’re you, and he’s rin. surely, you don’t have anything to worry about.

but then she’s there again. and again. and again.

and soon enough, he’s talking about her the way you once thought he might talk about you.

it’s not long before they’re together.

you smile when he tells you. you smile because what else can you do? you smile because rin is your friend, and friends are happy for each other. you smile because if you don’t, you might just break down right then and there.

he smiles back, like he’s found something good—something solid and real. you feel your chest tighten.

and god, it hurts.

because rin used to look at you like that. like you were his world. like you were enough.

and maybe you were. once.

but that was before he convinced himself you didn’t feel the same. before he moved on. before you let him slip through your fingers, all because you were too scared to reach out.

and now you’re stuck—stuck watching him love someone else while your heart still clings to him. still hopes for something that isn’t yours to hope for anymore.

so you learn to smile when he brings her up. you learn to push your feelings down until they feel distant, dull. you teach yourself to stop imagining what could’ve been because it doesn’t matter now.

he’s happy. that should be enough.

it has to be.

[pastryfication]

fan interactions | oscar piastri

pairing: oscar piastri x shy!reader

summary: you tend to shy away from all interactions and oscar has never had a problem with that. he can’t deny that seeing you interact with his fans isn’t a sight he enjoys, though.

warnings: none!!

every race weekend you are able to attend follows a familiar pattern for you: you arrive at the track with oscar, your heart pounding with excitement and anxiety as the noise, the crowds and the high energy overwhelming you. sticking close to your boyfriend’s side, holding onto his arms or hand is the best comfort you can get. oscar’s presence beside you acts as your shield, your safe haven in the whirlwind of it all.

today is no different. as you walk through the bustling paddock, you stick close to oscar, basically hiding behind him. he holds your hand reassuringly, his touch grounding you in the chaos and you enjoy being able to cling to him. you know he understands how you feel, always making sure you’re comfortable, never pushing you to interact more than you’re ready for, and you appreciate it so much. all of your life, people have tried to force you into becoming more social, but it never helped you, only made you more uncomfortable, so oscar’s understanding means the world.

today, though, something unexpected happens. as you pass by a group of fans, one of them, a young girl with a friendly smile, catches your eye. she steps forward, her excitement palpable.

“hi!” she exclaims. “you’re oscar’s girlfriend, right?” her are eyes wide with admiration as she questions you.

you nod shyly, trying to force your voice above a whisper. “yes, i am.”

the fan beams at you, reaching into her bag. “i made this for you. it’s a bracelet with oscar’s racing colours and his number! i hope you like it.”

she hands you a beautiful bracelet woven with intricate patterns in orange and gold. your heart swells with warmth at the kind gesture. “thank you so much, it’s lovely,” you say softly, your fingers trembling slightly as you take the bracelet and slips it around your wrist.

“can i take a picture of you wearing it?” the fan asks, her eyes sparkling with hope.

overwhelmed by the attention, you try your best to seem calm and confident, but your hands are shaking slightly as you nod your head.

the fan takes a quick photo while you muster up your best smile. her gratitude is evident in her eyes as she thanks you. “thank you so so much! you’re so sweet.”

you manage a small genuine smile in return, feeling a mix of nerves and happiness. as the fan takes a step back, you turn to catch up with your boyfriend. when he feels your presence besides him, oscar turns to you, his eyes full of pride.

“you handled that so well,” he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “i know it’s not easy for you, but you were amazing.”

you blush, looking down at the bracelet. “i was so nervous,” you laugh awkwardly. “but she was really nice.”

oscar chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “you were adorable. i think it’s cute how shy you get. and i love seeing you smile like that.”

your heart flutters at his words, butterflies forming in your stomach. being with oscar made you feel so special. something about his intense attention and affection makes you feel like the most important person in the world. moments like these only work to further remind you just how deeply he understands and appreciates you. you lean into him, wrapping your hands around his bicep as you continue walking into the paddock.

“thank you,” you whisper, grateful for his constant support. “i really don’t know what i’d do without you.”

he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you don’t have to do anything alone. i’m always gonna be here for you.”

his promise makes a brighter, even more beautiful smile appear on your face. walking towards the mclaren hospitality, feeling his soft skin beneath your fingers reminds you just how lucky you are. the luckiest girl in the world perhaps.

[cinnahoons]

( 𝐚𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 ) ─ ㅤ❛ ㅤ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃. ❜ 종성

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦 // 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎, 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗇𝗈 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗍, 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾.

𝗕𝗢𝗢𝗞𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗙｡⠀( 𝟪𝟣𝟤 ) ㅤㅤjay x fem!reader, fluff ✶ sunkissed knees, morning heat, the most gentle man ever ㅤ꒰⁠ 🍋⁠ᵕ⁠⸝⸝ᵕ ꒱ㅤ..ㅤi'm in italy this month and something took over me to write this, happy reading!

the sun is already cruel by eleven in the morning.

it melts against the tiled rooftops of sorrento, spilling down the ochre walls like honey and seeping into the skin of your collarbones as you sit on a windowsill with a spoon in your mouth and your legs dangling in the heat, blouse dipping low on your chest. you can hear the cicadas humming like static in the garden below, the smell of sun-warmed fruit and basil drifting up with the occasional lick of breeze. 

jay is lying on the floor behind you, one hand tucked under his head, the other curled lazily around a lemon he’d stolen from the basket on your aunt’s kitchen table. the hem of his white button-up is riding up. he’s not wearing socks, and his sunglasses are askew on his chest, almost like he forgot he was wearing them.

“you’re gonna fall out,” he murmurs, voice hoarse from sleep.

you glance down at him, at the golden sliver of tan skin peeking out from above the waistband of his trousers. “then catch me.”

“i’ll catch the yogurt cup,” he mutters, eyes closed. “you’ll be on your own.”

you roll your eyes and flick your spoon at him. a small dollop lands on his collarbone and he makes a sound of outrage, sitting up abruptly.

you only grin at him, and he huffs, plucking the spoon from your hand and licking the rest off with no hesitation. the movement is casual, all warm and lazy, and it makes your stomach flutter the way it always does when he does something careless and sweet and impossible not to fall in love with.

“what time is the market?” he asks, licking yogurt from the corner of his mouth.

“twelve. but it’s already hot as balls and i don’t wanna go.”

jay hums. his fingers drum against the lemon in his hand.

“you promised we’d get those little sugar apricots.”

“and you promised you’d cook dinner tonight.”

“i will,” he smiles, tilting his head against the sunlight, “if you wear that dress.”

you pause, shifting the gold bangles on your arms. they’ve become sticky with the heat. “which one?”

“the red one,” he says, eyes sliding over to meet yours. “the one that drives me crazy.”

heat blooms under your skin that has nothing to do with the sun. you hate him. you really, really hate him.

(you love him.)

you bring a hand up to your eyebrows, shielding your eyes from the sunlight as you attempt to stave off a grin. “you said that about the white one yesterday.”

“it’s a dress-per-day kind of week. not my fault you look beautiful in anything.”

you scoff, looking down. the windowsill is rough and warm against your palms, numbing them gently. “you’re insane.”

“you’re radiant,” he says simply, standing and stretching. you turn now, back facing the garden. the hem of his shirt lifts again, revealing another flash of tan skin and the shadow of where his necklace disappears beneath it. “and i’m right.”

he pads barefoot across the tile to stand in front of you, gently prying your thighs open so he can step between them. your legs dangle on either side of him, still warm from the open window. his palms cup your knees, thumbs stroking thoughtlessly over the sunburn blooming on one of them.

“you’re like a postcard,” he says, gaze lingering on your face. “the most gorgeous scenery in italy. everyone would want to come here.”

you blink, throat tightening. “jay.”

“what?”

“don’t say things like that.”

“why not?” he asks, quieter now, a smile teasing at his lips. “isn’t it true?”

you don’t answer. not really. you just reach up, brushing a thumb along his jaw where stubble has begun to show. he leans into your touch like it’s instinct. it probably is. the two of you have spent every day of this trip wrapped around each other like ivy. falling into rooms, falling into sun, falling into something stupid and golden and hard to name.

outside, you hear someone shout in italian. birds take off from a roof nearby. you glance out the window to see your aunt watering her potted plan, the garden hose writhing like a snake on the stone. 

jay doesn’t look away from you. “let’s skip the market.”

“we need food.” your head tilts against the hand of his that’s slipped into your hair, lulled by the gentle scratch.

“we have bread, and cheese.”

“jay. you’ll kill me.”

he grins. “i won’t. not if you wear the red dress.”

you groan, pulling him closer by the collar. “fine. but if we die of hunger, it’s on you.”

“i’ll make sure you die pretty,” he promises, forehead pressed against yours. “sundrenched. like now.”

you kiss him once, quick and messy.

then again, slower. tasting his smile.

the cicadas keep chirping their song.

© cinnahoons please do not steal, plagiarize, or reupload my work.

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ bbydaddy!yoongi (19) ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

note: the last. freaking. written. oh my god,, where did the time go !!! i honestly could've finished this fic in dec but got so busy w family stuff,, but i'm glad i'm wrapping it up now.. slower and more content <3 so happy to have seen all the love and support this bbydaddy ,, and can not wait to share more of the series with u !!! love u,, see u at the end :)

warnings: dirty talk, ass slapping, titty play, doggy,, missionarykissing, creampie and so much vibes !!!

//

“hi mommy!”

you roll your eyes and almost shut the door in his face.

“go away, jungkook.”

he laughs, loud and shameless. then, without warning, jungkook wedges his body between the door and the frame, stopping you from fully shutting the door. his arms are full of takeout bags, the smell of fried chicken and tteokbokki filling the entryway immediately. the aroma should make you hungry, but instead, it twists your stomach. 

you're too tired to want anything.

“you look radiant,” jungkook teases, setting the bags down on the nearest counter. he can’t help but notice how pale you are and how slumpy your posture is. though he teases, he still means it as he says; “glowing. motherly. beautiful.”

you give him a flat look. 

“i will hurt you.”

“sure you will,” jungkook says, grinning like you’ve just handed him the greatest compliment in the world. “why would you? actually, how can you when you have that giant thing in front—”

the sound of more footsteps behind him makes your heart sink.

you lean to the side, peeking past his broad shoulders, and your suspicion is confirmed—hyemi isn’t alone. the rest of the friend group piles in behind her, all laughter and overlapping voices. and then it hits you. 

it’s just like last time. 

the time they all found out you were pregnant—and you can’t figure out what to feel first. 

relief? excitement? annoyance? 

“surprise!” jin exclaims, throwing his arms out dramatically. “we’re here to cheer you up!”

you blink at him, then at everyone else, too stunned to speak.

“what’s that face?” hyemi asks, stepping inside with a bag of desserts in hand. she glances over her shoulder at the crowd behind her. “awh, ___… don’t look so excited, or they’ll think you’re happy to see them.”

“i’m not.”

“we know.” namjoon smiles as he ducks into the hallway, carrying what looks like half a pharmacy’s worth of supplies.

“why are there so many of you?” 

you feel yourself beginning to get lightheaded. 

“because we love you,” hobi says simply, dropping his shoes at the door before making a beeline for the kitchen. “now sit down before you pass out. you look exhausted.”

there it is. 

health care friends at their finest. 

you love your friends. you love your friends. they care for you. you love them. you love them. you love them. you love them—

hyemi hums in agreement, giving you a once-over. 

“shit, ___. you’re grumpier than usual. reminds me of when you’re on your period.”

the jab earns her a collective groan from everyone else.

“don’t start,” hobi says, holding a hand up like he’s warding off bad energy.

“what? it’s true!” hyemi grins, clearly unbothered by their reactions. “___’s been pregnant for 9 months and suddenly you all forget what she’s really like when she’s over it.”

you’re too tired to even retort. 

you are really over it.

“i wasn’t expecting all of you, that’s all. feels a little invasive especially when i’m about to birth an entire being.” you say, attempting to defend yourself.

“and we support you,” taehyung chimes in, entering with a huge smile on his face. “isn’t this the best-case scenario? yoongi wouldn’t let us bring any drugs but if we stress you out enough—we can help deliver the baby!”

the voices fade into the background as you sink onto the couch, the ache in your lower back easing slightly with the change in position. your head tilts back, eyes fluttering shut as you exhale slowly.

the sound of the front door opening again makes you lift your head, though, and when you see who it is, your pout returns.

yoongi steps inside, looking a little sheepish, and offers you a soft smile. 

“hey.”

“hey,” you mumble back, watching as he crosses the room toward you.

he leans down, kissing your forehead before his lips find yours, gentle and familiar. the kiss lingers, quieting the irritation buzzing under your skin. 

at this point of your relationship, it feels like every kiss after the other was a million years ago. like you need to be kissed by him every 5 minutes just so you can function. it’s a high you never expected to get addicted to, but who cares? 

he’s all yours. 

“i’m sorry. i really thought this would cheer you up. hyemi suggested it—and… i-i didn’t think they’d annoy you this fast—”

“i wasn’t flirting with jungkook,” you grumble against his mouth, the words spilling out before you can stop them. your sudden change of subject has yoongi pulling back. 

a smile tugs in, soft but apologetic. he brushes a thumb over your cheek, leaning in close again. “i know,” he murmurs. “i’m sorry for overreacting.”

just like that, the fight is over. 

yoongi then slips an arm around your waist, helping you to your feet with ease. his hand lingers on the small of your back as he leads you back toward the group, his presence steadying you as the noise and laughter fill the space once more.

you lean into yoongi instinctively as he helps you back into the living room, his hand firm and steady on your waist. you swear he moves slower than necessary like he’s afraid you might topple over if he so much as lets go for a second.

“yoongi, i’m pregnant. i’m not glass,” you hiss, though you don’t pull away.

“same difference.”

you sit back on the couch with a little huff, and yoongi crouches beside you, carefully adjusting the blanket draped over your legs like he’s tucking you in for the night. his fingers brush your knee through the fabric, and the touch sends a ripple of warmth through your chest.

“anything you need?” he asks softly, voice low enough that only you can hear.

“for them to leave.”

he chuckles under his breath, a low sound that makes your pout falter. 

“i’ll take care of them later. they want to be here for you right now. is that okay?” 

“it’s okay.”

“good—”

“don’t go anywhere,” you stop him for getting up. “stay besid me. i’m scared of taehyung right now. he wants to deliver my baby—”

yoongi snorts. 

“okay, okay.” he promises, thumb brushing absentmindedly over your knee before he stands. but he doesn’t go far. instead, he perches on the arm of the couch, staying close enough that his hand finds its way to the back of your neck, his fingers curling there with a familiar ease.

“what’s this?” jin’s voice cuts through the moment, his tone pitched just enough to be obnoxious.

you glance up, startled, and catch him pointing at your hand. more specifically, the small, delicate ring glinting on your finger.

“that’s been there,” hyemi says, leaning back against the armchair with her arms crossed. she tries to act coy with it, but she’s only really seen the ring on your finger once. “you’re just noticing now?”

“wait… that’s new,” jungkook interjects, squinting. “like... really new.”

a ripple of realization passes through the group, and their gazes flick between you and yoongi with varying degrees of curiosity and amusement.

“it’s a promise ring.”

“sure,” namjoon says, dragging the word out as he adjusts his glasses. his lips twitch, failing to hide a grin. “are you two even together?”

you and yoongi pause. 

“promise ring this, promise ring that… everything but boyfriend and girlfriend. baby and all. holy shit, do you even love the lord?” jimin teases. 

“promise ring? what are you guys? 16?” jin adds, earning a round of laughter.

“can you not?” yoongi mutters, but there’s no heat behind it. his hand shifts to your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

hyemi catches the way you lower your gaze. 

“what i think they mean to say is that… we’re happy for you,” hyemi says, her voice softer now, a rare moment of sincerity slipping through her usual banter. she attempts to correct the guys but steers the ship in a completely different direction. “you two are good together. and even though ___ would’ve said yes if that was an engagement ring—”

“w-wait, what?” yoongi’s head snaps toward hyemi so fast you’d think she just revealed a state secret. his eyes are wide, disbelief etched across his face. “hyemi, what did you just say?”

hyemi grins, clearly enjoying the chaos she’s unleashed. 

“you heard me.”

you groan, dragging a hand over your face. 

“god, don’t listen to her. she’s talking nonsense.”

but it’s too late. 

yoongi’s gaze is locked on you now, searching for something in your expression. 

“but is it true?”

“no,” you say quickly, your voice sharper than intended. “why would you even—”

“___, if it was an engagement ring…” hyemi chimes in, her voice sing-song, “wouldn’t you have said yes, ___?”

“hyemi!” you snap, glaring at her. your cheeks burn, the heat spreading all the way to your ears.

yoongi blinks.

his lips parting as if he’s about to say something, but you cut him off.

“can we not do this right now? i’m tired, i’m grumpy, and i’m this close to kicking you all out.”

the room goes quiet for a beat, the tension hanging heavy in the air.

then taehyung, ever the instigator, leans forward with a wicked grin. 

“so… that’s a yes.”

the teasing simmers down after that, the room settles. namjoon and jin argue over whether or not they should check your blood pressure, while jungkook, taehyung, and jimin try to beat hyemi and hobi with some card game. 

yoongi hasn’t left your side. his arm draped casually along the back of the couch. when your head tips onto his shoulder, he doesn’t hesitate, pressing a kiss to your temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“they’re not leaving anytime soon, are they?” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

“probably not,” he replies, lips quirking in a small smile.

you sigh, closing your eyes. the room is loud, but his presence is grounding. for a moment, you let yourself sink into it, the warmth of his hand on your arm and the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your ear.

“okay, let’s be serious for a second,” namjoon announces, standing in the middle of the living room with a no-nonsense expression that only half-convinces anyone. “you’re due any day now, so we should probably—”

“no.”

you cut him off so fast that it takes him a moment to register.

“but—”

“no.” you shake your head, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “absolutely not. you’re not poking me, prodding me, or whatever else you have planned. not happening.”

jin sets his drink down and raises a brow. “we’re doctors. we’re just trying to help.”

“you run a dermatology practice. you are not my OBGYN. you’re my friends,” you retort, glaring at them. “i love you all so much. thank you for caring and for all the support you’ve given me for the past 9 months. whether it was running an errand or picking up a craving, to planning a surprise baby shower and for this—i am so grateful. but holy fuck, i do not want to be touched. if you guys are here as my friends, then do that. be my friends right now and distract me since no one brought any fucking drugs.”

yoongi glances between you and the two men, hesitating. “honey, maybe just—”

“no.”

“you seem stressed. maybe checking your blood pressure isn’t an awful idea—”

“yoongi,” you snap, turning to him with a warning look. “don’t.”

he holds his hands up in surrender, lips twitching as if fighting a smile. 

“okay, okay. no check-ups.”

“she’s scary,” jin mutters to namjoon, who nods in solemn agreement.

the moment is interrupted by jungkook’s sudden, blunt proclamation: “you’re really pretty, though. personally, i like it when you’re bitchy.”

your head whips around to look at him, eyebrows raised. 

“what?”

“i mean, you’re glowing and all that,” he continues, shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “but also... just pretty. i can’t wait to see your boobs get all big and milky—”

you stare at him for a beat before snorting, laughter bubbling up despite your irritation. 

“shut up, jungkook.”

“i’m serious!”

“she said shut up,” yoongi interjects, his tone calm but edged with something sharper. he leans forward, smacking jungkook lightly on the chest. “remember what we talked about before coming here? boundaries, right? she’s the mother of my child, not some girl you get to flirt with.”

“but... she’s ___. our ___.” jungkook protests, gesturing at you. 

“my ___,” yoongi corrects him. 

your heart skips a beat, the simple declaration sending a wave of warmth through your chest. you glance down, fiddling with the edge of the blanket to hide the smile threatening to break free.

“ugh, you’re both annoying,” hyemi interrupts, rolling her eyes. “can we focus on something fun? karaoke, maybe? or better yet, you guys can cook.”

“cook?” you echo, sitting up straight. “absolutely not. do you know how much yoongi paid for that stove? you’ll burn the kitchen down.”

“you need to relax,” hyemi says, waving you off. “it’s your last few momments of peace before you officially become a milf. let us take care of everything.”

“i don’t need to be taken care of,” you argue, even as yoongi gently pushes you back against the couch.

“you do,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “just for tonight.”

you glance around at the group, their faces bright with amusement and affection, and something in you softens. 

no one waits for you to answer. 

truth be told, you don’t have much left in you. so, you let them do their thing. soon enough, the room buzzes with laughter as the guys head to the kitchen, their voices mixing with the clatter of pots and pans. hyemi sets up the karaoke machine, throwing you a wink before belting out an off-key rendition of some pop song.

yoongi stays by your side, kneeling in front of you with a plate of food in hand. he picks up a piece of kimbap and holds it out, his expression soft and expectant.

“open,” he says simply.

you narrow your eyes at him, but the corners of your lips tug upward despite yourself. 

“i can feed myself, you know.”

“we talked about this, remember?” yoongi reminds you. “figure out how to need me.”

“i’m fine—”

“then humor me.”

with that, you sigh but obey. you lean forward to take the bite. his thumb brushes against your bottom lip as he pulls his hand back, and your cheeks warm at the casual intimacy of the gesture.

the noise in the background fades for a moment, replaced by the steady thrum of your heart.

you glance around the room, taking in the laughter, the teasing, the warmth that fills the space. it hits you all at once—this is the last time you’ll all be like this. the next time they come over, there’ll be a baby crying in the background, diapers on the counter, and toys scattered across the floor.

your throat tightens, a mix of happiness and nostalgia swelling in your chest. you reach for yoongi’s hand, squeezing it gently. he looks up, his gaze softening when he meets yours.

“what?” he asks quietly, leaning closer.

“nothing,” you murmur, resting your head against his shoulder. “just... thanks for being here… and for not letting them touch me right now. i just… i only want you. i'm sorry i'm being such a bitch.”

“don't be... and for the record; i want you to only want me,” he replies, his voice steady and sure. “because me? i want you always.”

and somehow, in the chaos of it all, everything feels exactly as it should be.

always.

by the time everyone leaves, you fell asleep about 3 times. 

as yoongi manages to kick taehyung, jimin, and jungkook out, he wakes you up gently and helps you get to bed. in between little giggles and stumbles along the way, yoongi manages to tuck you in. 

he leaves you be as he gets ready for bed. then, after what feels like an eternity, he joins you. laying beside you, he pulls you close. 

“so… are we getting married or—”

“oh my god.” you bury your face into his chest. you mutter curses under your breath.

yoongi chuckles, bringing his hands to your hair. as he pats your head and plays with your hair, you feel his hand up your cheek. lifting your face up, his eyes look into yours. 

“you’d really say yes?” he asks.

with wide eyes, you look at him and feel it. your heart stutters at the way he’s looking at you. it’s too much—too sincere, too raw—and frankly? you aren’t too sure if you’re in the mood to dea with it. 

“would you stop?” you sigh, averting your gaze. “it’s late.”

“so… yes?,” yoongi echoes, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

you huff, reach up and place a kiss on his lips. 

“yes,” you admit. “if you had asked me to marry you, i would’ve said yes.” 

“noted.”

“go to sleep, babydaddy.”

“is that all i am to you?”

“yup.”

you’re past your due date. 

to be exact, you’re 1 day past your due date. 

to be even more exact—it’s 2AM on the day of your due date. 

you’ve been tossing and turning in bed, unable to get a wink of sleep. perhaps it’s the excitement or perhaps it’s the fact that you’ve never been so fucking uncomfortable in your entire life until now. regardless, you push and shove the blanket off of you and get up from bed. 

yoongi is asleep, his face half-buried in his pillow with one hand tucked under it, the other resting on your side of the bed like he’d been holding you before you slipped away. you glance at him, briefly considering crawling back in just to steal some of his calm. but the restlessness gnaws at you, so you leave, careful to avoid the creak in the floorboards as you shuffle out of the bedroom.

in the living room, the hospital bag sits exactly where you left it by the door. it’s already been double-checked—more than triple, honestly—still, you kneel (slowly and not so prettily) and unzip it again. 

clothes, baby onesies, snacks, charger. waterbottle. pillow. pajamas. fully charged iPad. 

your fingers brush over each item as if they might’ve magically disappeared since the last time you looked. satisfied, but still not satisfied, you zip it back up and wander into the kitchen. 

the fridge hums softly, and you open it, scanning the shelves of prepped meals, labeled containers, and the stash of snacks yoongi insisted on packing "for himself, but really for you.” he’s always prepared like that—calm, measured, thinking five steps ahead. 

it’s part of what’s kept you grounded through this whole thing, but right now it’s also infuriating. 

how can he be so fine when you’re this... this?

your hand rests on the counter as you exhale sharply, shoulders slumping. keys, wallet, slippers—all lined up neatly by the door. 

everything’s ready. 

except you. 

you feel a swell of emotions—anxious, impatient, annoyed—and it only intensifies as you pad into the bathroom, flipping the light on softly.

the mirror reflects your tired eyes first, then your body. your hands instinctively go to your belly, fingers tracing over the curves and stretch marks that have formed like vines around your stomach. it’s beautiful, really. the garden that you are and the flower that blooms inside of you. 

it feels almost bittersweet now. 

“what’re you doing up?”

yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, gravelly with sleep. you meet his eyes in the mirror, his hair tousled, a crease from the pillow faintly etched into his cheek.

“couldn’t sleep,” you murmur, watching as he steps closer. his arms wrap around you, warm and secure, his hands resting on the swell of your belly. he presses his chin into the crook of your neck, placing a soft kiss against your cheek.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, his voice low and soothing. “hmmm? tell me, honey.”

you sigh, leaning back into his hold. 

“i feel… anxious. and annoyed. and so tired but not tired enough to sleep. and you’re just in there snoring like nothing’s happening.”

“you’re mad at me for sleeping?”

“yeah.”

he chuckles softly, the sound vibrating through your back. “okay. you’re cute when you’re mad.”

“don’t start,” you warn, glaring at him in the mirror, though the edge in your tone is dulled by his touch.

“seriously, though,” he says, turning his head to kiss your temple this time, “you’re doing amazing, and everything’s ready. we’ve checked through everything over and over again. ___, you don’t have to stress.”

you huff, crossing your arms over his. “easy for you to say. you’re not the one carrying a human who’s decided to take their sweet time coming out.”

he chuckles softly, nuzzling into your neck. “baby injeolmi is taking their time because the home you are for them isn’t an easy goodbye. you’ve been glowing throughout this entire pregnancy. you’ve been so healthy and perfect, ___. baby injeolmi is allowed to take their time. you’re the perfect home.”

“well, i’m ready,” you snap, twisting around in his arms to face him. the irritation bubbling in your chest spills over, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “maybe we should just—i don’t know—have sex or something. isn’t that supposed to help?”

yoongi freezes for a beat, his eyebrows lifting in surprise. “...what?”

“i heard that if you cum inside of me, it helps soften my cervix,” you say, arms akimbo now, glaring up at him like he’s the one keeping the baby from arriving. “this baby’s already late, and i’m losing my mind. i don’t really care to try other remedies right now—”

“you’re serious?” he cuts in, his lips quirking up into that infuriatingly lazy grin. “you’re actually suggesting this right now?”

“what’s wrong with the suggestion?” you grumble, the heat rising to your cheeks more from frustration than anything else. “you don’t want to have sex with me, is that it—”

“shut up,” he bites back a laugh, his hands coming up to rest gently on your waist. “i can’t take that sentence seriously… but you know, most people don’t demand it like they’re negotiating a business deal.”

“yoongi,” you warn, shooting him a glare that could burn a hole through steel. 

he leans down slightly, his face softening as he brushes a thumb over your cheek. 

“alright, alright,” he says, voice dropping to that low tone that makes your knees feel a little less steady. “if it’ll make you feel better.”

you roll your eyes but don’t move away when he tilts his head, kissing you slow and deliberate, like he’s determined to tease you just a little more.

“make it worth it,” you mutter against his lips, still annoyed, but letting yourself be pulled under his warmth anyway. 

“oh, i’ll make sure of it,” he murmurs back, his smirk pressing against your mouth as his hands trail lower. 

you giggle as he begins to feel you.

the night gown you’re wearing is pretty thin and and low. yoongi has no problem tugging the top part down, revealing your breasts. he stares at them through the reflection of the mirror as he guides his hands around them. massaging your breasts, you let out a moan as he sloppily kisses your cheek. 

“y-yoongi?”

“yes, honey?”

“i love you,” you breathe. “need you to know that… because i want you to fuck me like you don’t.”

for a moment he’s stunned. 

“you want it rough, baby?” 

“so rough…” you hum. “bend me over, slap me around, and treat me like your favourite toy.”

he hisses. 

“not my toy,” yoongi mutters. “___, you’re the love of my life.”

you pause. 

“w-what?”

yoongi pauses too. he brings his hands to cup over your cheeks and looks into your eyes. 

“i love you. i’m in love with you. you’re the love of my life, ___. nothing has ever made more sense than this.” 

yoongi fucks you like he never has before. 

it’s fucking wild. 

the way his pelvis hits your ass as he pulls your hair has you absolutely floored. every time your knees shake, he slaps your ass and hisses at you. you can’t help but feel so fucking horny. 

“take more,” yoongi grunts. “you wanted more, right? you said you could handle it? fucking handle it.” 

he thrusts in you, hard and rough. his pace is selfish—almost relentless… but it also feels so fucking good. yoongi fucks you like he has been wanting to this entire time. 

“n-nghhh,” you moan. “y-yes… like t-that daddy! fuck me so good…” 

yoongi continues to fuck you like a dog. he whimpers and mutters things under his breath, causing you to focus on his breathing. you like the way he’s panting and losing his mind over your pussy. before you can make a comment about it, he holds you in such a way that turns your body over. 

he towers over you and practically drools at the sight of your tits. 

yoongi lowers himself, shoving his face into them. he licks your nipples, flicks them, and bites. you throw your head back, feeling how sensitive they are as he uses his tongue to play with them. they harden but it’s nothing compared to how hard his fucking cock is. 

he lifts himself up and hits your his dick agaisnt your folds. without warning, he sinks his heavy cock inside you. you gasp, but he interrupts it with a kiss. 

the kiss starts slow—like yoongi’s testing your resolve, coaxing you out of your annoyance with the deliberate press of his lips. but when your hands grip his hair, pulling him closer, his control unravels. his mouth moves against yours with a deeper urgency, his fingers curling into your waist like he’s anchoring himself. whatever frustration you have suddenly dissolves, replaced by the heat pooling in your chest as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. 

fuck.

it’s not just a kiss; it’s a conversation, a promise, a distraction. 

yoongi kisses like he’s reminding you of every reason to trust him, to lean into him, to let him take care of you. and for a moment, you forget why you were ever annoyed in the first place. 

against his lips, you murmur; “i love you.”

he smiles. 

“i love you too.”

with that, yoongi digs himself deeper inside you. 

you feel him everywhere. his fat cock hits different angles and reaches further than what you remember. you feel choked about it to be honest… his dick has always been big and it’s never been easy for you to adjust to—but perhaps with all the pregnancy sensitivity, his cock feels even more insane to you. 

it’s so insane. 

like, you’re near sobs insane. 

“a-are you crying?” 

“no,” you pant. “i… i just… fuck, i love this so much. i’m gonna cum soon—o-oh, god! y-yoongi… mhmmm…”

he chuckles, tucking your hair back. yoongi fucks you, deep and fast. you gasp from the sharpness that suddenly occurs. he smirks at the way your lips curve. they twitch and it boosts his ego. 

“you like that, mama? you like that i’m fucking your pretty pussy like this? like a fucking dirty slut? been fucking flirting with jungkook all week—”

“i wasn’t—”

“should’ve just stayed patient, honey,” yoongi growls. “what? you think he can fuck you like this? fuck you like you’re the most perfect thing on earth? no. he can’t. only me, mama. only i can fuck you like this, okay?”

“o-okay—”

“say it,” yoongi demands. “fucking say it.”

“only you.”

yoongi inhales sharply. “yeah, that’s fucking right. my little creampie slut… god, you love my cum, don’t you?”

you nod. “love is so much. so milky and creamy—so fucking good. want you to fill me up again, daddy… i want it so bad. will you do it? cum inside me? love it so much…”

“whatever you want,” yoongi breathes. “but first, tell me how good i fuck you.”

you don’t hesitate. instead, you let your words spill out. 

“you fuck me so good, daddy. so fucking good, i can’t breathe… your cock is so thick and big—i’m so sad i can’t suck it. i love how it fits inside me… i love how it makes me feel. so big. so fucking b-big… ughhhh… you have my pussy drenched, honey. so fucking wet for you all the time… i love your cock s-sooo much… don’t even know how to say thank you for fucking me like this. thank you, thank you, thank y-youuu… o-ohhh… oh my god! oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! yoongi—”

yoongi picks up the pace and fucks you so good that you’re at a loss for words. 

you begin to sob, wrapping your arms around him. you hold tight as he drills himself inside of you, using you like a fuck toy. but you don’t mind… espeically when he’s this hot and this fucking perfect for you. 

before you know it, he mutters; “holy fuck.” 

and you feel it. 

a big gush of his cum floods your insides. you feel his cum spill out but he continues to pump himself inside and out of you. you hold onto him, attempting to catch your breath too. truth be told, you came minutes ago… you’ve just been too into it to stop. 

as he’s about to move, you stop him. 

“don’t pull out. want to keep as much cum inside me.”

“i can’t get you pregnant again.”

you laugh as he kisses your neck. 

he joins your laughter and holds you close too, his arms warm and steady around you. the sheets are tangled at your feet, your body still humming with the intimacy you just shared. for the first time all night, the tension that had been coiled in your chest is gone, replaced by a deep, bone-deep exhaustion and something softer—something sweeter.

“you good now?” he murmurs against your shoulder, his lips brushing over your skin in a lazy kiss. “can you get some rest?”

you hum, resting your cheek against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a comfortable haze.

“yeah. i think i might actually sleep now.”

“good,” he says softly, his voice thick with sleep as he presses his chin to the top of your head. “you need it, mama. we have the next few years to lose sleep.”

his hand strokes absentmindedly over your back, his touch grounding, and for a moment, you let yourself sink into the quiet. the two of you are on the edge of drifting off when the words spill from your lips, unfiltered and raw.

“yoongi?”

“hmm?” he replies, barely awake but still tuned in, like he always is with you.

“i’m really glad it’s you.”

his hand stills on your back, and you feel him shift slightly, pulling back just enough to look down at you.

“what do you mean?”

you glance up, meeting his gaze. the room is dim, the glow from the streetlights outside casting faint shadows across his face, but his eyes are clear and focused, waiting for you to continue.

“i mean…” you take a breath, your fingers tracing the curve of his collarbone as you search for the right words. “i’ve always wanted this for myself, you know? the baby thing. the family thing… honestly? us. ever since the day i met you, i think i’ve always known you had the qualities i looked for and find attractive in a man… i never did anything because we barely knew each other but honestly? i’m so relived it’s you.”

“oh, are we confessing?” yoongi sighs. “i’ve wanted you for a long time.”

“really?”

“mhmm,” he kisses the top of your head. “all of this? all of you? worth the wait.”

the air stills. 

“yoongi?”

“yeah?”

“the most healing thing i’ve ever done for myself is choose a good man to be the father of my baby. and that’s you.”

his lips part slightly, his expression softening as the words sink in.

“you’re patient and kind and thoughtful. you make me feel safe, even when i’m a mess. you make me laugh and you let me cry. you… sit with me through it all. you hold my hand and when i’m ready to run again, you’re right beside me. i can’t tell you how much i wanted this—how much i had convince myself i was worth being with a man like you… yoongi, you make everything better.” your voice cracks a little, and you laugh at yourself, shaking your head. “i don’t know how else to say it and it makes me so sad that you will never know the extent of it all but—i’m really glad it’s you.”

he’s quiet for a beat, his gaze steady, his thumb brushing over your cheek where a tear had slipped out unnoticed. then, he leans down, kissing you—not with heat or urgency, but with a tenderness that feels like an answer, like a promise.

when he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“you have no idea how much that means to me,” he says, his voice low and steady, but the emotion behind it makes your chest ache. “to know that i’m good enough for you—it’s overwhelming. beyond anything i’ve ever imagined for myself. but to have you like this? to have you trust me, to love me the way you do... it’s everything, and i can’t fathom it. you and baby injeolmi are my everything. you always have been.”

9 months ago, yoongi murmured; "what are friends for?"

this.

moments like this.

where you’re reminded of how incredible it feels to love, to fall in love, and to be in love with someone like him. it’s not just a relief—it’s a revelation, a warmth that blooms in your chest and refuses to fade.

it's always.

[seellove]

Travel Time - Airport and Taking Flight! Sukuna x Reader

Pt 1 - Pt 2 - Pt 3

Husband!Sukuna guides you both through the crowded airport, hand clasping yours tightly as he pulls you close. When the crowd gets especially congested, his large hand migrates to the small of your back, guiding you in front of him to keep you close and prevent others from bumping into you.

Husband!Sukuna is so broad and muscular. Combine that with his face tattoos and people instinctively make space for him. Strangers give him a wary look and then see you next to him, smiling and yapping his ear off, and wonder how you two ended up together.

Husband!Sukuna, who gets mad and mouths off to the airport security when they give you shit because you forget to take your tablet out of your backpack. He hates how your face flushes in embarrassment and tears prick at your kind, soft eyes. While in line for the explosive detector, he drapes his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his chest and planting a soft kiss on the top of your head. “It’s okay baby they’re just weak and try to pick on nice people like you. I’d like to see them say that shit to me.”

Husband!Sukuna tells you to go sit down while he waits for all your bags to pass through the Xray machine. He hauls them all over, not allowing you to lift a finger. After all, you’d gotten your nails done all pretty for the trip! He helps you situate your backpack on your back, repacking your passport and electronics in their rightful spots.

Husband!Sukuna gets grumpy on the train to the Concourse. It’s so crowded and he’s irritated how people bump into you and encroach on your space. He lets out an annoyed huff, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind, fending off stray bags and people. If you weren’t trying to go on a well needed vacation, he’s bark at these fools and shove them away. He doesn’t want to ruin your time however.

Husband!Sukuna, who entertains your desire to walk the length of the concourse and see where every plane is going. “London! Dubai! Sydney! Johannesburg!” you squeal and point at all the exciting international destinations. Sukuna doesn’t give a shit about this, but seeing you light up at the exotic cities causes his heart to flutter and makes him want to bring you to every single one. Seeing you happy is one of his favorite things, no matter what the cause of that is.

You and Husband!Sukuna find a pair of open seats near your gate and settle down. He reluctantly leaves you alone to go to the bathroom, promising he won’t be long. He reappears a little while later, surprising you with your favorite snacks from the convenience store.

Husband!Sukuna isn’t one for grandiose gestures of love and affection, but all the little things he does never goes unnoticed and gives you a steady supply of love and support, never doubting how much he cares for you.

It’s time to board your flight! Husband!Sukuna boards in an earlier group than you, finding out he’s been upgraded to first class as he scans his ticket. He hopes you have been too. He deposits your carry ons in the overhead compartments and sits down in his spacious seat, eyes glued to the door to catch a glimpse of you.

Husband!Sukuna breathes a sigh of relief as you finally board, but then is distraught when you say you have a seat back in the economy section. He tries to get you to trade with him, but you refuse and the flight attendant tells you to keep going as you are holding up the line.

Once everyone has boarded, Husband!Sukuna leaps up and strides to the back of the plane.

“Switch with me right now, I’ll sit back here,” he demands.

“Kuna you need it more than me, there’s no leg room back here. I’ll be okay.”

“No, I want you to be comfortable. Stop being a brat and go up there.”

“No! I’m not doing that to you!”

“Woman! Get your ass up into first class!”

You don’t move, making Husband!Sukuna clench his jaw in irritation.

“Hey!” he barks at the middle seat passenger next to you. “You wanna swap for my first class seat?” The man can’t believe his ears and nods eagerly.

Husband!Sukuna returns with his bag and slides into the middle seat next to you, his knees pushed up against the seat in front of him. He pulls your bag out from under the seat in front of you and puts it under his, providing you with unobstructed leg room.

“Kuna at least get in the window seat so you aren’t cramped up!”

“No dear. What do you not understand about me wanting you to be comfortable! I’ll be fine.”

You know there’s no arguing with Husband!Sukuna so you just stay put, leaning against his thick arm, leaving a small kiss on his bicep and resting your hand on his thigh. You feel him shiver slightly at your touch, leaning closer to your touches.

Husband!Sukuna holds your hand as the plane takes off, quelling your nerves and offering silent support. His thumb caresses your knuckles in a soothing motion, erasing the worry in your mind.

Husband!Sukuna pats his chest, letting you lean against it, running his fingers through your hair as you doze off, feeling his heartbeat beneath your ear and inhaling his familiar scent. Unbeknownst to you, he leaves soft kisses on your head from time to time. He wants you to sleep as much as you can to be refreshed for when you arrive.

[songbirdseung]

sneaky / park sunghoon

where your secret not so secret boyfriend climbs through your window to see you after a long time genre fluff, est. relationship, tsundere bf hoon

it was a little past 10 pm, and you were sitting at your desk, drowning in notes, your room dimly lit by the soft glow of your bedside lamp. you were trying to stay focused, but the exhaustion from your long day was creeping in, making it hard to concentrate. the house was eerily quiet, with your parents having gone to bed hours ago. it wasn’t unusual for you to stay up late working, but tonight felt particularly tedious, like time was dragging.

just as you leaned back in your chair, contemplating whether to call it a night, a faint tapping sound came from the direction of your window. your head shot up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. the noise came again, a little louder this time. cautiously, you stood up and walked over, pulling back the curtains. your eyes widened in shock when you saw a familiar figure standing on the narrow ledge outside your window—sunghoon, grinning like he hadn’t just risked his life to climb up there.

you immediately opened the window, allowing him to slip inside with a little too much ease. “what the hell are you doing here?” you whisper-yelled, trying to keep your voice down so you didn’t wake your parents. “are you crazy?”

“what does it look like i’m doing? i’m here to see you,” sunghoon replied casually, brushing off his jacket as if it were no big deal.

“yeah, i can see that, but you’re climbing through my window? at 10 pm?” you gave him an incredulous look, shutting the window behind him.

he smirked, clearly amused by your panic. “relax, i’ve done this before. it’s not like your parents are gonna check your room.”

“i don’t care! if they catch you, we’re both dead!” you hissed, crossing your arms. you couldn’t believe he thought sneaking into your room was some normal, everyday thing.

sunghoon just shrugged, kicking off his shoes and making his way to your bed. he flopped down onto it with a dramatic sigh, stretching out like he owned the place. “you’re overreacting. besides, i haven’t seen you in weeks. aren’t you happy to see me?”

you rolled your eyes but felt a flutter of warmth in your chest. sure, you were frustrated, but deep down, you were more than a little excited that he had gone through all this trouble just to see you. “well, yeah, i’m happy to see you, but this isn’t exactly how i imagined it.”

he chuckled, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you. “how did you imagine it then? me walking through your front door with a bouquet of flowers?”

“something like that,” you muttered, still shaking your head at his recklessness. “you really are unbelievable.”

“hey, i’m nothing if not creative,” he said, shooting you a playful wink. “come on, you can’t say this isn’t romantic.”

“it’s something,” you admitted with a small smile, trying to stay mad but failing miserably. “but seriously, what if someone sees you?”

“no one’s gonna see me. i’m practically a ninja,” he teased, making himself more comfortable on your bed. “besides, it’s not like i was gonna just sit at home all night. i had to come see you.”

you let out a sigh, unable to fight the grin forming on your lips. “you’re impossible.”

“and yet, you’re still dating me,” he shot back, his voice full of smugness.

you shook your head, walking over to your desk. “yeah, because i clearly have terrible taste in men.”

“hey, now,” sunghoon said, sitting up on your bed and giving you a mock-offended look. “that’s not what you said the last time we hung out.”

you laughed, glancing over your shoulder at him. “okay, maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook for climbing up my window like a maniac.”

“aww, c’mon, don’t be like that,” he pouted, scooting over and patting the space next to him. “i’m here now, so just come cuddle with me. you can finish your work later.”

“sunghoon, i have a paper due,” you protested, even though the idea of snuggling up with him sounded way more appealing than continuing to work.

“you’ve been working all night,” he countered, tugging at your arm until you reluctantly joined him on the bed. “just take a break. you deserve it.”

you sighed but let yourself relax into his embrace, resting your head on his shoulder. “you’re lucky you’re cute, otherwise i’d kick you out right now.”

he let out a low chuckle, wrapping his arms around you. “i know. i’m irresistible.”

you scoffed, shaking your head. “you really don’t give up, do you?”

“nope,” he said, popping the ‘p’ with a smug grin on his face.

the two of you settled into a comfortable silence, your bodies fitting together as if you hadn’t been apart for weeks. you missed this—the simplicity of being close, without the pressures of schedules and distance getting in the way. sunghoon was never the best at showing his emotions, but moments like this, where he went out of his way to be with you, spoke louder than words ever could.

after a while, you glanced up at him. “i still can’t believe you did this. i mean, this isn’t exactly your thing.”

sunghoon smirked down at you, one eyebrow quirking up. “what do you mean by that?”

you gave him a teasing look. “you know, the whole sneaking into my room, rom-com style. usually, you’re more… stoic.”

“are you saying i’m not romantic?” he asked, pretending to be offended.

“i’m just saying it’s new,” you teased, poking his side.

he let out a soft scoff, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. “just because i’m not cheesy doesn’t mean i can’t pull off the occasional grand gesture.”

“grand gesture, huh? sneaking through my window at 10 pm counts as a ‘grand gesture’ now?”

“absolutely,” he replied, his tone confident. “i risked my life climbing up here. i’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “okay, okay, i’ll give you that one. but you better not make this a habit.”

“no promises,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk. “i might just have to keep surprising you.”

you rolled your eyes, but the warmth in your chest was undeniable. “fine. but next time, use the front door.”

sunghoon chuckled, pulling you closer. “we’ll see.”

the two of you lay there for a while, the soft hum of the night filling the room. eventually, you broke the comfortable silence, looking up at him with a playful pout. “you know, you still haven’t apologized for giving me a heart attack by showing up out of nowhere.”

“apologized?” sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his tone full of faux innocence. “why would i apologize for being the best boyfriend ever?”

you huffed, nudging him with your elbow. “i think i deserve an apology. and maybe some kisses to make up for it.”

he smirked, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “fine, but only because you’re so needy.”

you laughed, tugging him back down for another kiss. “sure, hoon. whatever helps you sleep at night.”

he rolled his eyes but didn’t pull away, his lips lingering on yours for a little longer this time. “you’re lucky i like you,” he muttered, though the warmth in his eyes gave away more than he’d ever admit.

“i know,” you teased, pressing one more kiss to his cheek. “and i’m lucky you’re crazy enough to climb through my window just to see me.”

“yeah, well,” he said, his voice dropping to a soft murmur, “i’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Omg I love your writing can you please do a smut fic for Bruce Wayne’s wife asking him to be rough with her like asking to be spanked and chocked because he keeps treating her like she’s fragile and refuse to be rough in bed, she’s really small in stature so he’s always been scared of actually hurting her but she finally convinces him to finally be rough with her. Please ❤️❤️

GRRRR FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ON THIS ONE ABSOLUTELYYY

Sorry this one took a while to write, just had a major snowstorm recently that made a tree fall on the powerlines to my house. Currently running on mobile data to write this bc I won't have wifi till Sunday😀

Like You're Made of Glass

Bruce Wayne x Wife! Reader

Smut and a bit of fluff mixed in.

Alsooo!!! As per the request, the reader is depicted to be quite a fair bit smaller than Bruce, but if anybody wants a Plus Sized reader fic, Im totally down! We love body positivity over here, no matter who you are💜

"Come on, Bruce," Your voice is barely more than a soft, seductive whisper as your arms wrap around his broad, toned shoulders, "I'm not made of glass, you know." Bruce has been at it for hours at this point, the posture of his back absolutely suffering as he continues filling out paperwork at his desk. You would honestly be lying if you said it wasn't attractive, though: driven men are just so... Admirable.

Bruce couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that, despite barely glancing up from his patrol reports as you hug him from behind. "No, you're not," Your husband agrees softly, his voice, albeit slightly gruff from disuse over the past few hours, filling the study air with such a soothing melody. "But you are my wife. And, as far as I'm concerned, a certain Mrs. Wayne vowed that she would keep herself safe from any potential threat the night before we got married. That does include myself, for your information."

A soft huff falls from your lips at that, the sound echoing through the, otherwise silent, secured office. "And, as far as I'm concerned, a certain Mr. Wayne vowed to do anything for my happiness on our wedding day," The tease leaves your mouth as it finds it's way to his neck, the sound slightly muffled as you press soft, loving kisses to his tense muscles. "You promised a unicorn, if I wanted it."

He really couldn't help but crack a soft smile at that, which was a rare sight from the, otherwise stoic, Batman. A deep breath and slight sigh escapes his mouth as the pen leaves his hands and rests on the piles of milky, white papers. Bruce couldn't help but let his head fall to the side slightly to rest upon your cheek, which is still burried into the crook of his neck.

"I did promise you a unicorn," He agrees yet again in an even softer tone. That was the tone he used when he considered caving to his darling wife's pleading (which he almost always did). "And your happiness," Bruce adds after a moment as he lets his weary eyes flutter closed, breathing in your familiar and comforting scent.

“But happiness isn’t just about unicorns and fairy tales, Bruce,” you respond, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. The warmth in your eyes contrasts the cool sterility of the office, sparking something intense in the depths of his dark eyes. “It’s also about being able to live fully in every aspect, even between us.”

He furrows his brow slightly, processing your words, but he can't deny the heat rising from where your bodies almost touch and how it made his pants feel just that bit tighter. You have a way of igniting feelings he'd long buried under layers of duty and responsibility. “I just… I want you safe,” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down your spine.

“I know you do,” you assure him, reaching out to trace your fingers along the strong line of his jaw. “But sometimes, I need you to let go—just a little. You don’t always have to protect me. I’m not a delicate flower needing shelter from the storm. I can handle more than you think.”

A flicker of uncertainty dances across his sharp features as he considers your request. His instincts scream at him to be careful, to treat you with the utmost caution. It feels impossible to shake the weight of years spent fighting villains and guarding against any potential harm. But then again, you’ve never been one to shrink back from challenges.

“And what exactly are you suggesting?” he questions, half-teasing, half-serious, lifting an eyebrow. The tension in the spacious office thrummed with electricity, and his heart raced in anticipation of your answer.

Your lips curl into a confident smile, emboldened by a newfound sense of liberation. “I’m saying… I want you to be you,” you say, your voice steady and full of promise. “The true you. Your passion is part of who you are, Bruce. Embrace it—embrace me. Let’s shake things up a bit.”

He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, the playful challenge hanging thick between you. “You mean you want the Batman?” he asks, his voice lowering further, laced with a darker edge that sends a thrill coursing through you.

“Exactly.” You lean closer, your breath fanning over his skin, whispering sweetly, “I want you to show me how much you can handle without worrying if it will break me.”

Bruce studies you closely, weighing the implications of your daring invitation. What if he lost control? What if he did hurt you, despite knowing you were more than capable of taking care of yourself? But then again, this was another side of you he had never truly explored. This vulnerable yet fierce woman in front of him—the perfect blend of softness and strength.

“Alright,” he finally concedes, his deep voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “But if I lose myself—”

“You won’t,” you interrupt, capturing his gaze with yours. “Trust me. Just let go.”

In that moment, the barriers that had always kept him restrained began to crumble. He leaned forward, capturing your lips with his, the kiss igniting a spark that felt both electrifying and intoxicating. The gentle brush of your mouths transformed into something deeper, more fervent, an unspoken promise exchanged in the heated embrace.

The tension of the day melted away, replaced by the rhythm of inspiration and passion. As you pulled him closer, your body pressed firmly against his, the world outside ceased to exist. Time stood still in the sanctity of the study as both of you surrendered to the moment, determined to reveal the hidden depths of your love for one another.

Bruce's hands found your waist, gripping the soft fabric of your shirt as he deepened the kiss, seeking to possess and protect all at once. There was urgency in his movements now, a storm brewing beneath the surface that had long been contained. Your heart raced at the primal energy radiating from him, and you could feel the anticipation thrumming through every fiber of your being.

Breaking the kiss, his breath was heavy and warm against your lips. "You want me to be rougher, then," he murmured, almost as if solidifying the agreement into existence. "Is that what you really want?"

You nodded vigorously, feeling your cheeks flush with a mix of excitement and desire. “Yes, Bruce. I’m ready. Just… take care of me afterward.”

With that affirmation ringing in his ears like a battle cry, Bruce transitioned effortlessly into this new role — the man beneath the mask, the guardian who had finally allowed vulnerability within the sanctuary of your shared intimacy.

He pushed you back until the desk met the small of your back, a flash of surprise dancing across your features. But before you could second-guess yourself, he captured your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. His frame loomed over yours, an embodiment of strength and restraint, the very image of the Batman you knew.

“Remember,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, “if it gets to be too much, you tap out.”

“Okay,” you whispered, anticipation flooding your veins.

With a quick motion, he brought his other hand down, delivering a sharp smack against your thigh that sent a jolt of electrifying pleasure coursing through you. You gasped, not from pain, but from exhilaration, your body instinctively arching to welcome him deeper into your world. A thrill spread through you as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, another spank following, each strike sharper yet tinged with the tenderness of his touch. You squirmed beneath him, relishing the balance of pleasure and pain, the way that every strike lit up your skin and left a burning mark of his possession.

“More,” you urged, desperation coloring your tone, and he didn't hesitate to comply. Each slap echoed throughout the office, a rhythm punctuated by your soft cries and the heat radiating from Bruce’s body. He watched you carefully, assessing your reaction, the fierce protectiveness never fully disappearing from his gaze.

As the strikes continued, he leaned down and captured your neck between his fingers, applying just enough pressure to send a thrilling rush through your body without choking you. “You’re doing so well for me,” he murmured in that deep, gravelly tone that made your heart race even faster.

His actions intensified the fire within you, igniting a need that warped your perception of time and space. As he toyed with your neck, whispering praises and encouragements, your body responded instinctively, hungry for more of him, more of this exhilarating freedom he was giving you.

“Please, Bruce,” you gasped, your voice almost pleading. It felt like a confession, one that laid bare more than just the physical hunger you craved. “I want everything you can give me.”

A growl rumbled in his chest at that, a sound so primal and beautiful that it sent shockwaves through your entire being. A wicked grin crept onto his face as he transitioned from teasing strokes to something far more feral. He released your wrists, only to shift his grip to your hair, his fingers curling around the strands tightly yet tenderly.

“You asked for it,” he warned, a playful glint in his eyes before leaning forward, claiming your mouth with his again, the taste of you igniting the raw side of his nature. The kiss held none of the gentleness he usually afforded you; instead, it was possessive, driving, demanding.

As he did so, one of his large, calloused hands made it's way beneath your skirt to gently tease the skin of your thigh. The warm appendage slowly traveled up your leg, cupping the mass of your hip while his fingers slipped beneath the stretchy elastic of your panties. They were the pretty, lacy ones he picked up on his last big work trip out of the country.

The warmth of his lips was soon missed, however, as they trailed away from your own. But before you could whine at the loss of contact, his mouth trailed down to your jawline and neck, sucking and biting deep, purple marks into your delicate skin.

You didn't even have a chance to let out a small whimper at the assault on your neck before the sound of fabric ripping could be heard throughout the lavishly-decorated room. "Bruce!" You complain with a soft pout as you feel the reminants of the lacy cloth slipping down your thighs before landing in a small pile of shreds on the carpet floor.

"My deepest apologies, Mrs. Wayne," Bruce didn't bother to lift his head from your neck as he gave that shit-eating grin that you seldom see. He wasted no time in trailing his ring finger along your slick heat, collecting some of the moisture previously accumulating in your panties before trailing the digit up and around your sensitive bundle of nerves. "They're replaceable."

It didn't take long for your hips to be twitching softly, your husband's index and middle fingers tortuously and slowly trailing back to your weeping hole. His warm, calloused thumb moved to rub soft, languid circles on your clit as the digits slid their way inside of you, his lips never ceasing their attack on your, now bruising, neck.

"Baby-" Your whines were shortened in record time as Bruce used his free hand to cover your mouth, squeezing just enough on your jaw to get the point across. The slight stretch of his thick, long fingers inside of your cunt was divine: you almost couldn't help it.

"Speak when you're spoken to, beautiful," his voice was barely more than a rough whisper as his lips moved down your chest, removing the hand from your mouth to undo the first couple of buttons on your blouse. "I wouldn't want my wife out of place, would I? It's not safe for Batman's woman not to listen when given instructions."

His tone was almost enough to send shivers down your spine as your hips twitched yet again as his fingers pumped at a quickened pace, scissoring your gummy walls open to eventually accomodate for his girthy length. Almost immediately, your thigh is met with yet another loud 'smack!' in the otherwise quiet office. "Fuck, Bruce..." A soft whine escapes you, filling the air with your husband's favorite melody. He'd let you off the hook for speaking... This time, at least.

It felt like forever that Bruce spent eagerly fingering your dripping cunt, but that was to be expected. Even if he agreed to let go for the night, he could never risk seriously hurting his beautiful wife by not prepping her correctly. But, eventually, you felt that oh-so familiar tightening sensation in your stomach, your clit burning with pleasure as your husband rubbed at the sensitive spot.

But, then, he stopped.

Bruce had never denied you an orgasm before. In all honesty, you thought you were going to cry as he pulled his fingers away from your cunt, the muscles now clenching desperately around nothing but thin air. Before you could so much as make a pout, he was holding his two fingers to your lips, the digits gleaming with your own fluids. "Suck."

And, for a moment, you laid there as you processed his command. The gesture seemed so obscene but, god, you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on nonetheless. So, you gently parted your plush, kiss-swollen lips for him and embraced the pallete of the liquids created by none other than your weeping, aching hole.

Bruce let out a soft, pleased hum at that, pushing his fingers completely into your mouth before slowly unbuckling his belt with his unoccupied hand. You couldn't help but notice that it was tour favorite belt, the one with your initials engraved into the metal clasp currently making it's way to the carpeted floor of the study.

As always, you felt your heart give a soft flutter at the sight of your husband's hard, leaking cock as he freed it of his boxers, letting them fall down to his ankles before stepping out of them and allowing then to join the pile of scraps you once called your favorite panties. You were so entranced by Bruce you hadn't even noticed that youd stopped sucking on his soaked digits.

'Smack!'

Yet another echo came from the soft skin of your thigh as his free hand came in contact with it, the lewd sound bouncinf off of the filled bookcases. "Did I ever tell you to stop?" The tone he used was one you very rarely got to hear, usually reserved for the scumbags he interrogated during the dark Gotham nights.

It was hot.

You shook your head slightly as you looked up at those beautiful, blue eyes, now darkened with what could only be described as feral lust. This, yet again, earned a soft hum of approval from your husband. "Good girl..." He praised in a soft whisper, his unoccupied hand reaching to carefully align the tip of his length up with your heat. "I want you to tap out if it's too much. I need you to tap out if it's too much.

And before you could even utter another whimper, Bruce was sinking his girthy cock into your wet folds. He wasted no time in plowing himself into you, the hard slapping echoing through the study so loudly that you worried if one of the kids were to walk by, they'd have a horrendous image of their adoptive parents burned into their skulls. But all of those thoughts vanished as Bruce shoved his fingers even further down your throat, just barely leaving you enough room to breathe without a significant struggle.

If you had the ability to, your head would be falling back and your jaw would be slack in utter ecstasy. The most you could do for the moment was moan around your husband's thick fingers while he plowed into you, the mahogany desk creaking slightly from the pressure below. In all honesty, you were convinced Bruce would break the desk before he was through. Even then, it didn't seem like he had any intentions of stopping.

"Such a good girl for me..." This was so much different than the Bruce you were used to. Your Bruce held you as close as possible while whispering declarations of love and claiming that you're the best thing to ever happen to him. This Bruce wasn't holding you like a porcelain doll, but instead keeping himself at the best angle to ram into your pretty pussy as hard as he could. "That's my pretty little cunt, isn't it?"

The best you could do was let out a pornographic whine around his fingers, spit dripping down from the corners of your stuffed lips and making it's way down tour flushed and heated cheeks. Despite his literal decades of experience, it took all of his effort not to cum right then and there with your warm, gummy walls milking his length.

Pound after pound.

Slap after slap.

For what felt like eternity, that's all that could be heard. At this point in your sexual adventure, Bruce was determining that he much rathered ramming into your tight little hole when you were still partially clothed. It gave him something more to imagine the next time he saw you in the office and didn't have the chance to bend you over his desk.

And, for the second time that night, you felt that firey, knotted feeling arising in the pits of your stomach. As your fingers reached up to gently tangle your fingers into his, now messy, hair and give it a soft tug, the most you could do otherwise was give him a pleading look, silently begging for him not to rip away yet another orgasm in one night.

At first, Bruce debated edging you at least once more. But when he finally looked into those gorgeous eyes, now hazed over with need, trust, and love, he decided that the rest of the teasing could wait for another night. "Are you going to cum, beautiful?" His voice is ragged and interrupted by a soft groan as he speaks. "Is my pretty little wife going to cum all over my cock?"

While you nodded desperately, still begging for your release to be granted, he kept his pace steady while giving a soft nod, the hair on his forehead sticking slightly with the sheen layer of sweat forming. Within moments, your gummy walls were clenching down around his thick length like there was no tomorrow, covering his shaft with the milky fluid that splashed up onto his pelvic bone and thighs slightly. "Bruce..." Your endless whimpers of his name were bately audible over the thick digits still shoved into your mouth.

As Bruce's hips began to stutter and his groans became more prominent, you wrapped your sore and achy legs around him. "Stay," You whimpered as he removed his fingers in favor of wrapping his arms around your shoulders, almost hugging you as he kept you pinned over the mahogany desk. "Give it to me. Don't pull out. Don't you fucking dare pull out."

That was all it took for Bruce's face to be burried in your shoudler, letting out a low moan as his cock painted your insides with his sperm. Even after he came, your husband still moved slowly in and out of your weeping cunt, prolonging the ecstasy of both of your orgasms as long as possible. Had the two of you ever talked seriously about kids? No, but he could pick up a Plan B in the morning.

"Fuck..." Was all Bruce muttered into your skin before peppering your skin in light kisses, each one trailing upward until his lips met yours in a soft, loving contact. This was the loving husband you were used to. When he finally pulled away and helped brush some of the hair now sticking to your forehead from the sheer layer of sweat covering your body out of the way, he only had three words. "I love you."

Masterlist

[saintrafayel]

Love for you (Rafayel x bunny!reader)

Synopsis: Rafayel’s been much more difficult to get ahold of ever since Thomas convinced him to adopt a hybrid at the shelter, but none of that matters so long as his bunny’s happy.

Tags/warnings: hybrid reader, slight infantilization, Non-canon compliant, reader isn’t mc I’m just having fun here, reader is a brat, rafayel is whipped okay? No smut but implications of it.

Authors note: 18+ only 🤍. Literally just wanna be Rafayel’s dumb lil hedonistic bunny girl who’s spoiled rotten. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 692

Rafayel could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket for the fourth time in the past minute, but he ignores the sensation as he finally reaches his studio. He’s sure it’s only Thomas asking why he left the Gala so soon, he can deal with his manager tomorrow; Rafayel’s gone too long without his precious girl wrapped around him to care for such things. He unlocks the front door and enters, waiting until the auto lock noise goes off until he turns around and sighs.

“Bunny, I’m home!” He announces to the sound of silence, much to his dismay. Rafayel furrows his eyebrows and pouts; on a typical day, you’d rush to him until you hop into his arms… Rafayel continues into the large studio, walking into the kitchen to notice a now empty pack of cookies on the counter. ‘Oh no,’ Rafayel thinks, ‘these were brand new…’

He rushes to your now shared bedroom to find your body snuggling against his pillow that has one of his shirts stretched around it. The room smells like his cologne, and it becomes more adamant the closer he gets to you and his pillow. The bedroom’s dark, but your nightlight illuminates enough of your face to reveal that some cookie crumbs are still plastered on there. Rafayel sighs in content; his messy bunny looks angelic while she sleeps. He reaches a hand out behind one of your ears and scratches it gently, careful not to mess up the pastel blue bows that decorate your fluffy ears. Your breath quivers as one of your feet begins to twitch at the sensation.

So cute, so trusting of him, all his.

“Bunny…” Rafayel whispers as he pulls the cologne soaked pillow out of your grasp. You begin to groan and attempt to pull it back in your sleep, he can’t imagine how bad of a sugar rush you had before this. “Wakey-wakey bunny, Rafie’s back from work…” he says in a singing voice, earning another groan from his dearest rabbit girl. Your eyes finally open as you yawn, sitting up and leaning against him.

“You’re back…?” You ask, nose immediately sniffing his neck as he wraps his arms around you. “Missed you so so sooo much Rafie, pillow Rafie isn’t the same…” you grumble against him. Rafayel kisses your forehead, but unfortunately he does need to have a hard conversation with you…

“Bunny, did you leave me any snacks? We just went grocery shopping baby…” you freeze in his arms for a moment, then begin to giggle.

“I ate all the cookies and the strawberry cake- oh! And the oranges… but I left you half of the ice cream carton!” You beam widely at him. “You’ve been gone since five… that’ll show you to leave me alone for six hours!” You grin. Rafayel pulls your body onto his lap and sighs. One hand reaches out to pet your fluffy tail while the other gently holds onto your waist.

“But bunnyyyy-“ he whines, “I wanted some of the strawberry cake too.” Rafayel frowns, “You can’t eat all the tasty snacks just because I’m gone- did you eat an actual meal?” He begins to scold. Your ears twitch, giving away the answer.

“The oranges were healthy…” you shrug, wiggling your ass against his legs. Having your tail played with always makes you… jittery.

“Bunny, next time wait for Rafie, okay? Come on, let’s get some actual food in you.” He instructs, waiting for you to stand.

“Hmm, I’m sorry Rafie,” you start, your movements turning into a steady grinding rhythm now. “How ‘bout I make it up to you instead, huh?” You look up and flutter your perfect eyelashes as Rafayel lets out a shaky breath; you always knew how to get your way with him, didn’t you?

Rafayel smacks your ass and earns a sweet yelp from your precious lips, you hop out of his lap and rub your butt as you frown at him. “Food first, then you can make it up to me like a good girl.”

[madamechrissy]

Preview for Pour it Up part five!

Pairings: Stripclub Owner Sukuna x Stripper F! reader -

It's herreee

CW- fluff ass crack lol, lots of humor, but then we also get a lil bit of some sexual tension and a prelude to some smut- SUKUNA IS WHIPPED, accidental stepdad Kuna lol. Enjoyyy- can't wait to see who's ready for this part!!

As you slip on your pajamas, you hear ‘ bang bang’ and rush out, it’s Touma saying it, over and over. You hear Sukuna’s booming laugh, rushing out with still damp hair as you eye the scene in front of you, mouth dropped open, Touma’s hand has a toy gun, his damn teddy bears have their little squishy arms tied, and there is fake money strewn all over.

“Haha, yeah kid, you just point and say it, c’mon you got it.” Sukuna’s grinning as he sits on the carpet, with his own toy gun, showing him. “Say - yo- you got my money!?”

“Yo gots my money!” Touma giggles now. “Bang!”

Sukuna slaps Touma in the back so hard the kid almost falls, affectionately you think!? “Yes, that’s it, then you-”

“What are you two doing, hmm!?” You cross your arms, and they both look at you, Touma’s eyes bright and glittering, Sukuna just smirking.

“What, we’re playing and bonding and that kinda shit. Touma, show mommy.”

“Look!” Touma shoots off the nerf gun now, and you gasp as he knocks the teddy bears right over, Sukuna smacks Touma in the back, bursting with laughter.

“This kid, I like him, look at that aim, huh? Now you take the-”

“Are you two serious!?” You demand, scowling at Sukuna, but Touma giggles and runs to you now, jumping up and down.

“Mommy, so much fun! Kuna is so fun I wuv him!” Sukuna clears his throat, bashful suddenly as he stands, rubbing the back of his neck.

You ignore the barbies that the teddy bears have thrown fake cash at apparently for just a moment, ignore the tied up bears and the nerf guns, and look down at Touma, who you haven’t seen this happy in so long. Then back at a Sukuna who is looking away, worried he’s fucked it all up.

You exhale then, realizing it.

You’re hopelessly in love, and even your kid loves this crazy ass man, on sight. “Although this isn’t the best game to play…”

They both look at you, eyes hopeful.

“I’m glad you’re having fun, hmm?” You murmur to Touma, brushing back his soft hair, you hear Sukuna’s exhale as Touma runs back to the game. Sukuna eyes you, walking close and leaning down, hands in his pockets. “You-”

“I know, I know I’m shit with kids. I just wanted you to have a break for a minute, and I don’t know what brat ass little... things even do. I figured-”

“Shh.” You grab his face then, kissing his lips gently, and he pulls you close, right against his chest, your skin dewy from the shower, eyes once again swirling with emotions, as he gulps a bit, just how pretty you are.

“You’re pissed hmm?”

“No, not pissed. This isn’t good behavior but… look at him.” Touma’s popping nerf guns at the bears with a little too much precision. “He’s so happy. Thank you for all of this, really, even if this is… inappropriate and a horrible influence, but...”

Sukuna blinks sooty pink lashes. “You're thanking me?”

“Yeah, you’re trying. And he… wuvs you.” You watch him look away again, as Touma begins to yawn.

“Tch. Wiped out already, kid?” Sukuna demands, but Touma just nods, and you swoop in, getting him to lay down, Sukuna lingers by the outside of the door, giving you both a moment.

“Will you be okay sleeping in here tonight?” You ask softly, Touma’s eyes are already fluttering shut as you cover him up.

“I like it here mommy, he’s so fun!” You grin down at him.

“He is fun.”

Touma touches your cheek with his little hand, melting you. “You love him, huh mommy?”

You look behind you, seeing his shadow along the doorway, sighing and then looking back at Touma, smiling. “Keep it a secret, but yes.”

Sukuna’s heart hammers in his chest as he hears you both, and you hum so sweetly to him, his feelings so overwhelming he can’t control himself. The minute you shut the door, you’re in his arms, lifted, his hands gripping your thighs, pressing you against the wall.

You gasp then, before you relax, and he smells how sweet you are from that body wash he bought you, you probably would flip if you knew the price tag, but Sukuna would get you anything. You don’t know what he’d do for you, who he’d kill for you, just to keep you and that kid- who's actually pretty okay, for a kid - safe, and happy, so quickly you’ve consumed him.

You’re clinging to his shoulders, as you bite your plump lower lip, trying not to make any noise, and Sukuna exhales, leaning even closer, lips a breath from yours. “Know how crazy you make me, brat? Got me having a whole kid here, got me thinking of putting another in you.”

You flush now, arching your hips, as he hides his groan in your neck, exhaling, your hands enwrapped in pastel locks. “Think I don’t picture it too? Think you don’t make me insane?”

“I need you, brat. Now.” He whispers, you nod eagerly and he’s carrying you, like you’re nothing, kissing messy and brutal down the hallway, until you’re in his room, and he’s kissing down your neck, biting your delicate skin brutally.

“Kuna!” You’re whimpering as he does, grinding your heated cunt against him in your silky shorts, feeling his cock hard and throbbing.

“Need you now.” You nod eagerly once more, as you look up into dilated ruby eyes, almost black.

“Then take me.”

“God what you do, woman…”

Kuna is... trying okay!?!?!? Give him a break hehe. - Don't take it too serious plz this is my FUN fic- despite some drama ofccc

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