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spider-stark · 3 months

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LADY STRONG

Benjicot Blackwood x Velaryon/Strong!Reader

Summary - Stuck in the Riverland's on a marriage tour, you pretend to be Lady Strong when Benjicot Blackwood doesn't recognize you as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms

Warnings - none except not edited!!

Word Count - 3.1k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

As if the prospect of a marriage tour was not horrid enough, your first stop was proving to be positively dreadful.

You had imagined the lands surrounding the Trident to be beautiful. A lush, verdant landscape—filled with fragrant herbs and bright, blooming flowers, painting the Riverlands in rich, colorful hues. You pictured babbling streams and plush grass, stunning castles and, perhaps, some equally as stunning men.

What you hadn’t imagined, however, was the weather.

Even from within the confines of Riverrun—the ancestral castle of House Tully—you still feel the effects of the merciless heat beating down upon the sandstone walls.

Your handmaids had tried to dress you accordingly, stuffing you into your thinnest—and, consequently, your least regal—gown, in hopes that it might prevent sunstroke. Yet still, even as three of Lord Tully’s own servants try fanning you while you sulk in the dining hall, you feel as though every inch of your body is drenched in sticky sweat.

“This is miserable,” you groan to Ser Lorent, the Kingsguard who had been assigned to your tour. Flanking your right, you spare the knight a pitiful, sidelong glance. “I believe I would sooner die a spinster than be forced to live in this sweltering purgatory!”

The servants, haphazardly positioned around the table, remain utterly stone-faced, not letting on if they found your comment about their homelands to be humorous or offensive.

Ser Lorent merely laughs. “The Riverlands are known for their humid summers, princess.” With a wink, he adds, “If you ever bothered with your studies, you would know this.”

“I study!”

“With the blade, perhaps,” Ser Lorent muses, his teal eyes twinkling with lighthearted mockery. “But certainly not with books, princess.

Rolling your eyes, you slump further into your chair, your body practically melting into the upholstery. “Leave the geography lessons to Jace,” you tell him, waving an idle hand. “After all, he's the heir to the Iron Throne. I am merely the prized broodmare—” focusing on your plate, and the half-eaten lunch upon it, you try swallowing the bitter tang now filling your mouth—“a royal womb to be sold off to the highest bidder.”

And, at times, you aren’t even sure if that is considered an honest truth… You’ve certainly never felt royal.

Like your brothers, you were born extraordinarily plain-featured. With no silver hair or lilac eyes, you appear more like a common-born peasant than someone of prized Valyrian stock—and it didn’t help that, unlike your brothers, you had no dragon, either.

Ser Lorent watches as you absently push a piece of seared cod around your plate, sighing. “That isn’t true, my princess.” His words are tinged with sympathy. “You are being sold to no one. Your mother wishes for you to have a marriage born of love—not duty.”

“Ah, yes,” stabbing the fish with the prongs of your fork, you bring it to your lips, “which is why I’m being forced to spend my summer meeting with the haughty sons of fat country lords—for love.”

His tongue clicks with disapproval. “Your mother has given you a choice in selecting your own husband, princess; which is a luxury not granted to many women.”

Frowning, you pop the piece of fish into your mouth, turning his words over in your head.

Gods.

You hate it when he’s right.

“Fine,” you relent, still chewing. Turning sideways in your chair, you raise your fork to him in a mock threat, “But my earlier statement stands! If I must take a husband, then it certainly won’t be anyone from here—lest I become no more than a puddle of sweat.”

Ser Lorent cracks a smile at you. “Should you turn to a puddle, princess, then I vow to mop you from the floor.”

“How valiant of you, Ser Lorent,” you laugh. “I’m unsure of how I might ever repay you for such loyalty.”

“I’m not sure you have to worry about that, princess—I don’t believe that puddles are much concerned with matters of debt.”

Turning back to the table, another soft laugh spills from your lips. “I suppose you’re right, Ser.”

All too soon, however, your amusement begins to fade. A warm breeze blows in through the many open windows lining Riverrun’s dining hall, the stifling air only accentuating the stickiness of your skin.

Sucking in a deep, heavy breath, you ask, “How long do we have?”

Ser Lorent doesn’t ask for clarification, knowing almost at once what you were asking him. “We’re expected back in the Great Hall in a little under an hour, princess.”

You blow the breath out, groaning slightly.

An hour—that's all the time you had left before you would be forced back upon the dais, expected to once again smile and be cordial as men and boys from all across the Riverlands made their case for your hand.

How many of them could possibly be left? This morning alone you had met with dozens upon dozens of them, their voices all blurring into a monotonous hum as they spoke of the history of their Houses—if one can consider nonsensical legends from the ancient Age of Heroes as true history, that is.

Noticing the dreadful pall cast over you, Ser Lorent clamps a comforting hand on your shoulder. “How about a walk before we go back? It might help to clear your head,” he suggests. Then, with a wry grin, “Perhaps you might wish to think back on the men from this morning—see if any of them might make you change your tune about life in the Riverlands.”

You pin him with a playful scowl. “There’s not a man alive that could change that tune,” you vow. “But you’re right—a walk might be nice.”

Rising from your seat, the servants around you lower their fans, silently dismissing themselves.

“Will you be accepting my company on this walk?” Ser Lorent teases—though you know what he’s really asking is: will you be accepting my protection.

“After this morning, I believe I’ve had enough company for a lifetime.”

The knight’s brow draws tight, an apprehensive frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. You roll your eyes.

“Oh, don’t worry so much, Ser Lorent. It gives you wrinkles,” you tease. Adjusting the slit running along one side of your dress, you reveal the dagger holstered on your thigh. “I assure you that if any of these Riverlanders dare lay a hand on me, they’ll lose some fingers.”

Ser Lorent snorts, head shaking. “It’s not you I worry about, princess,” he jokingly admits. “Just stay close by, understand? Your mother will have my head if anything happens to you.”

“Yes, yes—understood,” you dramatically gripe, already walking past him to the exit.

“Oh, and princess?” He calls out just as the guards pull the doors open for you to leave. You glance over your shoulder at him, brows lifted. “At least try not to injure anyone.”

With one last roll of your eyes, bright with mischief, you shout on your way out, “No promises, Ser Lorent!”

Wandering through the outer yards of Riverrun, the blistering sun beating down upon your skin, you find yourself overwhelmed by a sudden ache in your chest.

You miss home. Desperately.

You miss Dragonstone’s near-constant cover of clouds, forever shielding you from the heat. You miss the cool breeze rolling in off the Blackwater, the air peppering your cheeks with salty kisses.

But even as you dream of a reprieve from the muggy Riverlands, you can’t help but miss your family—your brothers—most of all.

Perhaps it is that feeling that led you here, to the training yard, guided by the familiar lull of splintering wood and steel slicing through the air, the sound offering a much-needed remedy to the homesickness twisting in your gut.

Smaller than the one at Dragonstone, Riverrun’s yard was no more than a cramped stretch of dusty-dirt, lined with old training dummies and archery targets. Mostly encircled by the towering sun-bleached stones of the castles, only a small part of the yard remained open to the sprawling gardens beyond, sectioned off by ornate iron fencing.

Striding over the open gate, your attention falls upon the lone boy standing in the yard's center.

As the sunlight beats down overhead, long shadows dance around his feet as he glides through a set of movements—each step calculated, every strike deliberate.

You step closer, keeping your steps light as you approach. With his back turned to you, you watch as sweat drips down his neck, glistening. It soaks into his tunic, the thin black material clinging to his lean, muscled back.

He’s talented—you think, studying his form.

Talent is something you're familiar with—intimately. You were raised around warriors—trained by the Rogue Prince himself. Yet never before had you found yourself so utterly bewitched by a fighter.

He didn’t move like other boys.

He wasted no time on the flowery style displayed by so many summer children—the ones who thought of battle as a performance rather than a matter of life or death.

Instead, he moved with the lethal prowess of an apex predator—his blade cutting through the air with a controlled ferocity that, while lacking the flourish of other warriors, was undeniably impressive.

Dirt flies as he throws himself into another set of movements—a series of strikes and parries, executing with unbelievable precision. With every twist and pivot, muscles tense and shift beneath his tunic, his body as powerful a weapon as his sword.

He lunges forward—and wood cracks! as he slashes his blade along the belly of one of the dummies, a move that would have disemboweled a living opponent.

Cutting through the sudden stillness, you bring your hands up to your chest, filling the yard with a slow clap. Back still turned to you, the boy's spine goes ramrod straight at the unexpected sound.

“Impressive,” you muse, taking another step towards him. Mere feet remain between the two of you, now. “You move well—better than most, I’d say.”

The boy spins around to face you, his once elegant movements now blundering as he nearly trips over his own feet. Biting your tongue, you try to hold in a laugh.

Big, storm-cloud eyes meet your gaze, pinning you in place as he blinks, visibly thrown-off by your presence. “Sorry-” he stammers, out of breath. “I didn’t think anyone else would be coming out here-”

You lift a hand, cutting him off with a smile. “Oh, no—don’t apologize on my account! I enjoyed the show,” you tell him. “Seems that you have a real talent for swordplay.”

His cheeks flush, his lightly sun-kissed skin turning a stark crimson. “Thanks.” His laugh is a nervous, awkward thing—endearing, too. He sticks a hand out towards you, the other still limply holding his sword. “Benjicot. Blackwood,” he introduces himself, fumbling over his words, “but you can call me Ben or Benji—or anything, really.”

You take his hand, biting your lip to mask your amusement. “Pleasure to meet you, Benji.”

A beat of silence passes before confusion finally tugs at his features, his hand falling back to his side. “Uhm—” another sweet, awkward laugh— “and you are…?”

Realization dawns on you, leaving your brows to shoot up to your hairline.

Seven Hells. He doesn't know, does he?

A sudden speechlessness grabs hold of your tongue.

You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised—after all, you aren't what many expected of a Targaryen princess.

Plain-featured and dressed in thin, common clothes, you imagine you likely appear no different than the servants surrounding you at lunch, fanning you to keep the heat from going to your head.

Even so, it's rare that you met someone who doesn't know who you are. And, selfishly, after a morning filled with insincere compliments from haughty Lord’s, you like the idea of remaining nameless—titleless—for the first time in your life.

“Wow—sorry—that was thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?” Tapping a finger to your temple, you laugh. “I’m Mylissa,” you lie, stealing the name of one of your handmaidens. “Mylissa Strong.”

“Strong?” He echoes, brow furrowing. “Strange—you don’t sound like you’re from the Riverlands. Your accent is—”

“Southern?”

Benji nods.

“Well, I’ve spent the better part of my life in the Crownlands, so I suppose I’ve picked up their accent,” you explain. “I’m here with the princess, actually—as her lady-in-waiting.”

The mention of the princess—you—turns his skin a pasty white.

Keeping a tight leash on your curiosity, you try not to sound too intrigued when you ask, “And what about you? Raventree Hall is a decent ride from here, is it not?” On horseback, the ancestral seat of House Blackwood was two days away from Riverrun, if not three. “Are you here to meet with the princess?”

Benji shifts his weight, leaning from one foot to the other. “Supposed to,” he begins, his words tumbling out, “but I don’t know—I’m not so sure that I’ll go through with it.”

Your expression falters, disappointment washing over you like a cold wave, combatting the intolerable warmth of the sun.

“Why not?”

He shrugs—a timid, shy gesture that feels so unlike the predator you had snuck up on. “There are over a hundred men in there,” he waves an arm to the castle, to the Great Hall within, “all waiting for an opportunity to impress the princess—meanwhile, I can hardly get out a single sentence without choking on my own spit.”

Your laughter bubbles up involuntarily, a few giggles spilling past your lips. The Blackwood boy shoots you a playful glare from beneath long, dark lashes.

“Well,” you begin, absentmindedly toeing the dirt between you, “perhaps the princess might find it endearing, don’t you think?”

Benji scoffs. “Doubtful. I mean, think about it!—she’s a princess!”

Your eyes widen, glimmering with mock-offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Once again, that crimson tinge returns to his skin, crawling up his neck, this time.

“I meant no offense,” he defends himself, mistaking your expression for one of a Lady meaning to defend her princess. “But what could I possibly offer a princess?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think on his words. “Well, the Blackwoods do have a history of being valiant warriors, do they not? And you seem to be quite skilled yourself,” you say, daring to let your stare drift down to his arms, the short sleeves of his tunic revealing well-muscled, sweat-slick biceps.

He snorts. “I’m willing to guess that the princess would likely care naught for my skill with a sword.”

“Then you would guess wrong,” you retort, a faint, teasing smile on your lips. “Many say that the princess herself is quite skilled with a blade—I imagine she would quite like a boy that’s capable of challenging her.”

Benji’s eyes darken a shade, an unreadable expression crossing his features. “And what about you, Mylissa?”

The false name catches you off-guard, but you do your best to hide it.

“What of me?”

A bit nervous, he asks, “Would you like a boy that can challenge you?”

Your heart stutters in your chest—skipping several beats as his stare lowers, dipping past your waist and falling upon your thigh. On the dagger sheathed there, no doubt.

Heat begins to crawl up your neck, hotter even than the sun's blistering rays. “Oh—” You stutter, words lost upon you.

It’s true that you were used to the attention of men. After all, your morning has been filled with it, and soon enough the rest of your day will be, too.

But this was different.

Benji wasn’t giving you attention because you’re a princess, a mere royal womb to strengthen his House’s bloodline. Rather, he was doing it simply because he wanted to—a feeling that was utterly foreign to you.

Wiping a clammy hand on his sweaty tunic, Benji misreads your silence, taking a half-step back. “Apologies, my Lady—that was too forward and-”

You don’t let him finish his rambling. Taking a step forward, you close the gap he sought to create between you. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“A deal?”

You nod. “As you know, the princess will be in the Great Hall for the rest of the evening, holding court with the other Lord’s who’ve come for her hand. I'd like for you to meet with her.”

Benji cocks his head, confusion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I truly mean no disrespect to your princess, my Lady, but I was asking if you might be interested in–”

“I know what you’re asking, Benji.” You lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “And after you meet with the princess, if you still wish to inquire about my hand,” you say, placing a palm to your chest, “then I will happily hear you out.”

In the distance, a bell sounds out—signaling the time, you realize.

“If you’ll excuse me,” you start, already taking a few small half-steps backwards. “I’m expected inside.”

Letting his sword drop to the ground, Benji lunges forward to catch your wrist. “So you agree to meet with me after court, then?”

“If you’re still interested,” you muse, a tinge of anxiety laced through your tone, “then yes.”

The corners of his lips twitch into a bashful smile. “I give you my word that–”

You planned to interrupt him. To tell him not to make oaths he wasn’t certain he could keep, knowing that he may very well change his mind about you once he realizes who you are—that you’re not technically a Strong. But, before you can, another voice intervenes.

“Princess!” Ser Lorent calls out, exasperated, as he walks through the gate. “We must hurry, princess,” he continues, pausing only to give a wary glance at Benji’s hands wrapped around your wrist. “We’re late.”

Your pulse begins to pound, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins at being exposed as a liar by Ser Lorent.

Benji’s face goes blank—then his eyes go wide, big as saucers as you snag your wrist from his grip.

“Princess...” He utters, voice laden with disbelief. “Princess?!”

You can hardly bring yourself to do anything other than grin stupidly at him, nearly stumbling over yourself as you back-up to where Ser Lorent is waiting impatiently.

“It was lovely meeting you, Benji!”

You hope he can hear just how genuine your words are.

“I’ll see you in the Great Hall,” you call out over your shoulder, sparing him one last glance as Ser Lorent guides you to the gate, watching as he blinks in astonishment, still processing the revelation.

Walking back towards the inner-castle, Ser Lorent glances down at you with a knowing look. “You seem giddy.” There’s a teasing glint to his words that makes you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing. “So,” he continues, his brisk pace never faltering, “does this mean that your statement from lunch no longer stands? That, perhaps, this sweltering purgatory may yet grow on you?”

You bite your cheek, a permanent grin still etched onto your face.

“Let’s just say that I’ve decided it’s best to keep my options open, Ser Lorent.”

a/n - you may ask yourself: lainie, why would you refer to him as mostly BEN in the last fic and BENJI in this one??

and the answer? I have not ONE clue. my brain is rotting and benji is cute.

anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one! feel like I got to explore more of his personality here. additionally, I need HBO to know that if this boy ends up not being benjicot blackwood then I'm gonna fucking riot

benjicot blackwood tag list - @a-song-for-ages @ghostinvenus

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hmatrading · 1 year

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thatnewweeb · 2 months

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Ice Cream For Breakfast | Bakugo Katsuki

Summary | Your very healthy boyfriend doesn't want you to have ice cream for breakfast

Content | Fluff, one sexual comment made by Bakugo

Word Count | 0.5k+

A/N | I had this idea and wanted to write it, but it ended up being pretty short and I wasn't sure where to go with it, so I might end up rewriting it at some point in the future

It feels like the heatwave has been absolutely kicking your ass.

The air conditioning in your dorm building broke on day 2 of the heatwave, and it feels like there's no escape from the overwhelming heat.

It's absolutely unbearable, to the point that you and your boyfriend have been sleeping as far away from each other on the bed as possible, unable to even think about cuddling with each other. It would be uncomfortable anyway, but even more so with his overactive sweat glands caused by his Quirk.

When you get up in the morning, you both put on as few clothes as you possibly can while staying decent so you can go to the dorm kitchen and get food.

"Whaddya want for breakfast?" Bakugo asks, walking over to the sink to wash his hands.

You consider for a moment. "Babe..."

He sighs. "What?" he asks, thinking you're probably about to say something stupid, like you usually do when you say 'babe' in that tone.

"I know it isn't the healthiest, but..." you hesitate for a second, thinking he'll probably say no and call you stupid. "Can we have ice cream for breakfast?"

He almost glares at you when you ask that. "Idiot," he tuts, "that's an awful breakfast. You're a hero student, and you want ice cream for breakfast?"

You pout. "Baby, why not?" you whine. "It's not like I constantly have ice cream for breakfast or anything. It's just for today because it's so hot."

He shakes his head, sighing. He stays silent for a moment, looking at you as you pout in the way you know he finds absolutely adorable.

After a minute of consideration, he tuts but opens the freezer. It was stocked full of ice creams and ice lollies by the class when the heatwave began.

He chuckles softly when he sees the way your eyes light up when he agrees.

He stands close behind you, leaning in close. "You're lucky you're cute," he whispers, his breath tickling your ear.

You giggle and pick an ice cream, taking off the wrapper, which Bakugo takes and throws away for you before getting his own ice cream, now also having one for breakfast despite his protests that it's unhealthy.

He watches you intently as you start licking and sucking your ice cream, leaning against the wall with a slight smirk on his face.

When you notice him, you tilt your head at him, wondering why he's staring at you.

Smirk growing wider, he leans in closer again. "You gonna do that to me later?" he whispers teasingly.

You crinkle your nose in mock disgust at his comment, cheeks going slightly red. "You're a pervert."

He chuckles. "I'm no pervert. You're just being so cute right now that I can't help but think about that."

You pout up at him before going back to eating your ice cream.

As the rest of your class starts waking up and leaving their rooms for breakfast, more and more people join you and your boyfriend in having ice cream for breakfast.

"Just so you know, this is the only time I'll condone having ice cream for breakfast."

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t-tomuras · 3 months

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㊋ ─── • 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭

Pairing: Dabi | Touya Todoroki x F!reader

Wordcount: 3.1k

Warnings: Band AU, fingering, creampie, teasing, kinda mocking, dubcon (to be safe), semipublic sex, slight nipple play, use of 'daddy'.

Notes: Repurposed writing, and who doesnt love a good romp in the public restroom?

“If I would’ve known being in a band would get me pussy this easy,” Touya pants between pointed thrusts, grabbing a handful of your breast to appreciatively knead at the soft tissue. Yanking the scoop of your low cut tank down before long for your tits to spill free for him to pinch at a pebbled bud. A satisfied sigh and mean spirited laugh leaving his lips when you keen at the sting, “I would’ve learned to deal with these losers sooner.”

He’s got you pressed into some dingy, sharpie and dying ballpoint pen graffitied men's room stall of the venue his band was set to play at tonight. Crowding your space and overwhelming your senses with ease but what else could you expect of the more dramatic member of Caustic.

Certainly not that he’d be buried to the hilt in you literal moments before they were supposed to play, using up the time he should spend warming up while the opening act, True Damage, warmed up the crowd.

Normally, meet and greets were after the show; and you’d been sure to purchase your VIPticket and backstage pass just for the chance to meet your favorite band and members, Touya being one of them.

And imagine your elation as you’re waiting in line to have your barcode scanned and ushered in to your designated area as the tour bus arrives. Tomura, their manager, stepping off first followed by Spinner and Himiko, Twice, Compress then last, and by uncertain terms the least, your absolute favorite Touya.

Scores of fans of all genders cheering and clamoring to the dividing rails as they walk in a line into the side entrance of the venue. Himiko slapping at every hand extended out to her with a broad smile, pointed fangs on full display only causing the raucous cheering to grow louder. Tomura waved with his barely there, practiced smile, chastised time and again that, despite being the manager he still had to seem moderately approachable. Compress and Spinner signing autographs between Twice’s impromptu photo shoots, joined by the giddy Himiko, with passing fans and Touya?

Touya spots you.

Brow raising in curiosity with his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he trails behind his other band mates.At first, he thinks you actually have no real interest in their appearance at all, he’s seen many an unwilling tag-along to their shows but it isn’t hard to surmise quickly this wasn’t the case.

A man adept at reading body language, Touya sees quickly how you clutch tightly at your pass while even the employee that verifies tickets' attention is stolen by the excitement. Scrutinizing you further as he nears to see you haven’t taken a breath either, the rise in your chest in your thin excuse of a tank top stalling for a beat and it makes the man chuckle to himself.

Sharp cerulean gaze flitting to each of his band mates to take stock of them all, figuring that if they were all absorbed with their fans why couldn’t he be? Lopsided grin splitting his features as he widens his stride, closing the distance between you both before you even realize he’s actually approaching you. Leaning his elbow against the wooden barrier and crowding your space nonchalantly, tilting his head as he ignores the unsubtle gaping of several other fans waiting in line.

Delighting internally, as well as with external microexpressions of his face, in how your eyes widen before you look to either side of you as if it weren’t blatantly obvious who Touya’s attention was set on. Lids falling to half mast but the entertained smile on his lips never falls away, only widening further when you finally realize that yes, his attention was on you.

Chuckling to himself when your lips part but no words form on your tongue, watching with rapt attention as you flounder without another friendly soul at your side to possibly remedy the situation. Are you really going to sit here, in front of your celebrity crush no less, and not have a single thing to say? Watch as his handsome features, accentuated by shining silver studs in his nose and left brow, relax and you worry they look to be growing disinterested.

“You don’t have to talk,” he finally says, fingers reaching towards yours as he lifts at your tight grip. Encouraging them to fold away and lessen the tension on the poor laminate pass that accompanies your wristband for him to take a peak. Head tilting for a better view and only serving to look more catlike in nature as one corner of Touya’s full lips pulls upward in satisfaction, at least he’ll have an easier excuse than simply picking out a pretty face to scratch an arising itch.

Everything felt like a blur from the moment he helped you over the guardrail to where you are now. Pawed at and panting for breath with appreciative growls and grunts sounding against your skin or directly into your ear.

Pitchy keen ripping from your throat before bleeding into an unabashed moan at the feel of a sudden, harsh pinch to your hardened nipple, neglected until to this point followed by another dark chuckle, “sorry, that hurt?” voice a teasing lilt of velvet sin, “just wanted to make sure you knew you weren’t dreamin.”

Earning a pathetically cute whine and you’re increasingly growing certain he likes the sound of it by now with how often he does something to elicit one. Panting for breath as you shift to turn your head to glance at him while you arch your back, chest pressing against the sharpie laden wall for stability. Adjusting yourself subtly to set the curve of your ass against his pelvis and rolling your hips backwards to grind into him in the hopes for even a modicum of alleviating friction. Worrying the already bitten flesh of your swollen lower lip between your teeth at the feel of his hard cock beneath the layers of clothes that separate you.

Blood warming at the sound of Touya’s hiss as his fingers grip at your hip to aid in the movement. Following the rhythm you haphazardly set, rutting his hips into yours as he dips forward to draw in a steadying breath when he finds himself nosing at your temple. Inhaling the smell of your shampoo in a wide berth, letting the intoxicating scent invade his senses before exhaling in a near shuddering breath, hot against your skin before he releases your sensitive nipple. Opting to let the web of his palm fit perfectly to the column of your throat, pads of his thumb and index fitting just around the junctures of your jaw but he applies no real pressure.

Touya only uses it for a guide, pressing his thumb in an urge for you to turn your head so his lips can meet yours. The contact is an awkward brush at first in your surprise before you tilt further, dipping your chest and pushing your hips further into him as you adjust to a more comfortable position, eager to accept him. Sighing as the kiss seals properly, the sound you emit is something caught between a satisfied hum and a slight whimper but it's nothing less than tantalizing for him. You can feel him smile against your lips accompanied by an out of sync fan of warm breath against your skin because of it, as his broad palm and lithe digits previously settled at your hip dips lower to grip at the hem of your skirt. Bunching the material up in two easy handfuls to reveal your pair of lacy panties so his fingers can tease over the fabric.

The pad of his middle and ring fingers tracing along the seam by your thigh, pulling at the fringe of the intricate lace as he coyly ventures towards your center. Lust addled gaze widening minutely when your thighs twitch, feet turning inward as your knees bow slightly to create a gap in the plush flesh for easier access.

“Well aren’t you sweet,” breathed against the shell of your ear as his chin rests on your shoulder, head tilting the slightest bit so he can watch your pretty face contorted in pleasure the moment he gives you what you’ve likely dreamed about.

Finding your clit easily over the fabric as he rubs teasingly over the garment, earning a gasp that allows Touya an opportunity to seize. Wet muscle embedded with yet another piece of surgical steel quick to taste you and you hope his hum is from the comforting flavor of your hot chocolate flavored gloss and not simply the way your thighs reflexively clenching at the stimulation before he forces his hand lower; though, regardless of the reason, the reaction itself was a confidence booster nonetheless.

As is hearing the way Touya groans appreciatively at the damp patch from just a little fevered pawing and well placed pinches, his ring and middle fingers stroking against your clothed slit, the tips of his index and pinky digging into the soft meat of your inner thighs to keep you spread as his tongue hungrily slides over yours.

You get so lost in the kiss and feel of his fingers that you don’t notice him pulling the lacy fabric to the side until there’s uninhibited contact to your sensitive bundle of nerves. Touya presses and rolls his skilled fingers into the puffy nub so expertly that it rips a pitchy keen from your throat, so raw that he felt the beginnings of it vibrate against the skin of his palm which allowed him enough time to part from the dizzying kiss so he won’t swallow the sweet sound whole. Relishing in it as well as your breathless pants of his name as your hips twitch into his hand before he hastens in pace.

Leaning away from you for a moment so he can simply watch you with a lidded gaze as your forehead lays over the back of your hand against the stall wall, appreciating how you react to the onslaught of pleasure he so effortlessly supplies. Whimpering pathetically before you roll your swollen bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to quiet yourself some as your climax builds, as the coil in your lower abdomen winds so tightly you teeter on the precipice of euphoria when a jolt of pain rockets up your spine.

A yelp sounding in time with the disapproving tuts from the man behind you, “we’re at a concert, you’re supposed to be loud here. They won’t hear you over the opener.”

And even if they did, what was anyone going to do? Take pictures? Call security? He wishes.

“Make some noise,” Touya teases, mocking tone as the fingers at your bundle of nerves glides lower to tease at your entrance. Laxy prodding quickly turns into tentative stretching only to cascade further into vigorous pumping until you can’t even pretend to contain every rewarding noise he earns, his name falling from your tongue like a prayer and he was only using two measly fingers.

Two thick digits that work you to the edge with ease, fingers that have you bucking desperately into his hand at his encouragement while the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, “keep going. You’ve got it, good girl, you’ll get there.”

Skin hot from the attention, mind reeling as the tension builds and you’re almost there, you’re so close before, suddenly, you feel soberingly empty. Disoriented as you turn back to see what happened.

“Aah, fuck it. I can’t wait anymore,” a strain to his voice as he flips up your pleated skirt, thankful to your friend that taught you to roll the waistband once for it to sit higher. Uncaring of how he’d certainly ruined your favorite pair of fishnets at the sound of popping nylon with how lost in the throngs of pleasure you are. Slightly edged from his impatience and Touya chuckles when you adjust to worsen your arch, ass lifting higher at the sound of clinking metal as he unbuckles his belt and undoes his jeans.

The height difference is awkward even with Touya’s hand at your ribs for support but he doesn’t seem to mind. Touya pressing against you once again as he fists his cock, thumb rolling over the weeping slit to work the beading pre down his shaft along with your wetness still coating his fingers before guiding himself to your entrance.

Nudging awkwardly in his haste until you feel that satisfying stretch once more, the sensation leagues better now than his fingers alone; girthier and it sends a shiver coursing down each nodule of your spine, head lolling back to rest against Touya’s collarbone as he grabs at the underside of your thigh to lift it.

You adjust your footing easily, supporting yourself by bracing your forearm against the wall while he presses his body into yours as Touya fully sinks into you with a throaty, relieved groan.

And, to your surprise, he even takes a moment just to revel in the feel of how you take him. The heat of your welcoming walls raises his already elevated temperature only to worsen the moment he drags his hips back to push back into you again. Finding a rhythm that leaves you shuddering in his hold, thigh trembling beneath his fingertips and your cunt convulsing around his cock deliciously.

“Fuck,” the simple curse all he can manage for the moment as he works you both in tandem, wet slaps and lewd squealching echoing against the tile walls drowning out the whirr of the overhead fan. The roaring crowd sounds far away now, too lost in the salacious symphony you both orchestrate now to care about anything else but you and him.

Muttered curses, hissed growls and choked whines mixed with honeyed cries for more Touya, faster daddy fast, so so close please.

Skin tacky with sweat worsening the clap of his pelvis against the fat of your backside, worse so when he heeds your pleas. Angling his hips and bending his knees slightly more to drive deeper into you, nudging perfectly against that spongy spot inside of you with the new angle with each thrust. Leaving you seeing stars, your hands coming back to grab at something anything besides the flat surface of the metal before you.

Nails raking at Touya’s scalp before he hurdles you to your demise and seals his own fate to follow soon after you. Broad palm resting over your lower belly, just above your mound to press down in a way that steals your breath away. A gasp leaving plush lips before you tug harshly at soft ivory locks before fisting it all together. Arching in his hold as you finally reach your peak, wholebodied trembles telling of your euphoria if the throaty moan that vibrates against your sternum isn’t sign enough.

He does well to work you through it for as long as he can, prolonging the feeling by rolling thick digits over your clit again until you’re gasping for breath. Setting his jaw despite his lopsided grin in an attempt to keep the pace he’s fallen into, “Where do you want me?”

Asking you that as if you’re any more clear headed in the moment, like you aren’t currently aren’t experiencing a mind numbing pleasure only top of the line toys have provided this far is almost laughable. Velvet walls clamping rhythmically around his sensitive cock so well you’re very quickly about to lose the option of choice at all when you muster your voice.

“Don’t– don’t pull out. Inside, please daddy.”

Works for him, “inside it is—“ carrying the last letter as he grits his teeth and finally experiences sweet rapture. Every muscle in his body untensing as he fills your cunt with hot sticky ropes. Ruts of his hips slowlinh to even rolls in time with each twitch of his cock, jerking with a tired laugh when the squeeze of your walls gives him a taste of overstimulation. Enjoying the feel of you and giving you some semblance of time to recover. Supporting you loosely while you slump against the stall wall as a quiet falls over the small area.

Only to be ruined by Spinner bursting through the swinging doors of the restroom with an exasperated sigh just as Touya considers withdrawing his spent cock from you, “Touya, Shigaraki is looking for you.”

“When isn’t he?” Touya rolls his eyes, tone clipped as thick digits paw at the swell of your ass so his fingertips can pull at the slick lips of your abused slit to watch his cum already beginning to leak from you.

Tilting his head with his bottom lip rolled between sharp canines to watch as his middle and ring fingers plunge back into your sopping hole. Lewd squelching and slick clicking sounding in time with his amused chuckle along with your barely muffled moan with your cheek still pressed against the cool metal stall. Hardly recovered from the quick tryst and still oversensitive but Touya revels in that fact. Uncaring of his band mate but you’re hyper aware of the click of his heels on the tiled floor.

Whining at the intrusion but, begrudgingly, you attempt to collect yourself, palms flat on the wall in front of you only to find yourself pressed against it once more. Touya’s chest to your back in order to keep you in place, chin resting on your shoulder as his huffed sigh fans humid breath against your damp throat. Skin tacky with sweat despite the cool air of the space, “where’re you going? I’m not finished yet.”

Tentative smile gracing pretty features before your body jolts with a yelp as Iguchi’s broad palm slaps against the stall door and rattles it on its hinges despite the minimal force, “you are Touya. You don’t want to piss him off again.”

But really he did, always does but he doesn’t feel like further killing his buzz by listening to Tomura’s overzealous chastising. Withdrawing his fingers from your tight cunt as you hiss at the loss, letting your foot rest flat on the floor once more and finding yourself needing to still lean against the wall but for support now.

“Too bad,” cooed coyly as Touya pops his soaked digits into his mouth to clean them off, slapping your bare ass before flipping down your rumpled skirt. Lewd pop filling the space before he slips from the stall and around his band mates stocky frame, “maybe could’ve kept you around to blow off some steam again.”

And even as the door swings behind him as they make their way to the collective dressing room to prep for the show Touya thinks he’ll be sure to search for you in the crowd.

#vixen writes #dabi smut #touya smut #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #touya todoroki smut

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explicit-tae · 26 days

Note

WHAT THE HELL EVERYONE WAKE UP WE GOT AN UNGODLY HOUR UPDATE AND A BABY IS INVOLVEDJRIEKFKSKWKDJ I LOVE MY LIFE

this is like so old but why not use this to drop yet another part that i told myself i wasnt dropping

Ungodly Hour (9)

Jungkook forces you to face the reality that you are indeed pregnant - ew.

Warning: jungkook being jungkook, smut ofc, kissing, simp jungkook duh, protective jungkook, dirty talking, creampie, riding, unprotected sex,

“Y/N,”

That voice. You dreaded hearing it now.

“I say this with the least bit of anger in me…but…what the fuck are you doing?”

Your eyes blink upwards from the soapy sink, the water running as you slowly drop the plate. Jungkook is staring right back at you with a look of pure disappointment. It’s as though you ruined his mood entirely. He had strolled through the door happily as ever with groceries he was going to prepare the two of you to eat and the smile on his lips disappeared in an instant.

“Washing the dishes.” you deadpan, turning off the water. You already know what Jungkook is going to say and you have to mentally prepare yourself for it.

“You can’t do things like this-”

“You can’t do things like this, Y/N, you’re pregnant.” you mock him with a roll of your eyes, an act that catches him by surprise.

“I’m serious.” Jungkook shakes his head and places the bags of groceries onto the island and rounds the corner to meet you.

“Ever since we found out about this, you’ve gone insane.” you cross your arms with a tilt of your head. “I can’t wash dishes. I can’t walk alone-”

“For your safety, of course.” Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “You’re the true crime watcher. You know what happens when girls walk alone.”

“Can we explain why I can’t wash dishes then?” you tilt your head.

“I may not have the answer, baby.” Jungkook places a hand on your chin and presses his lips to your forehead to peck them. “I’m sure 1,000 ways to die does.”

Jeon Jungkook was determined that this pregnancy was going to be handled with care. The amount of emotions he’s gone through alone at the realization of even the possibility that you were pregnant was overwhelming. Witnessing the positive pregnancy test and even getting to sit through doctor visits for added confirmation had filled him with emotion.

“I told you in the Jeon family that the woman has to relax.” Jungkook begins to take out the groceries he has bought. “You think my mother was straining her back when she was pregnant with me and my brother? Of course not.”

Jungkook then turns to look at you, eyes fixed. “Speaking of labor…did you quit your job yet?”

Not this again.

“We’ve been through this.” you wipe your hands on your shirt lazily and go towards the fridge. You would help him put the groceries away on a good day. However, Jungkook was adamant on you doing absolutely nothing that could harm you or the child you were barely pregnant with.

“We have.” Jungkook nods. “And I want you to quit.”

“I don’t want to quit.” you don’t look at Jungkook and instead go towards a few slices of cheese to make yourself the perfect grilled cheese that you were now envisioning in your mind.

“You always complain about how stressed you are working there.” Jungkook deadpans. “What if they have you stock?”

“Then I’ll stock.” you shrug, again focusing on the grilled cheese. You’re buttering the sliced bread when you speak again. “My mother didn’t raise a bitch.”

You then knit your brows and hum. In a way she did. Your bitchy attitude towards Jungkook had diminished when you realized that you, dare you say, love him. Especially now that you were very much pregnant by the same man you claimed you’d never give a chance to. How the universe humbles you is amazing.

“Y/N…”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. He turns to face you fully, crossing his arms. You’re carefully placing the cheese onto the bread and he watches you place it into the air fryer. You turn to him with a displeased look.

“You don’t even like working there.”

True.

“I know.” you nod your head. “I have-”

“Don’t say you have bills.” Jungkook interrupts. “I pay all of your bills.”

Your eyes turn to small slits for a moment.

“I’m saving money.” you shrug again. “For the baby.”

Jungkook’s gaze softens a bit, but he has to remain strong. If he gives into you now then you’d never quit.

“Why?” Jungkook questions. “We have enough money.”

“You,” you scoff. “have enough money.”

“I don’t know what that even means, Y/N.” Jungkook shakes his head.

“I can’t have you pay for everything while I sit around and not do anything.”

Jungkook blinks a few times and his response shouldn’t surprise you. It’s Jungkook, after all. “Why not?” he questions slowly, genuinely confused. Probably because he already pays for everything now and he was completely fine with it.

Your hands begin to rub at your temples and slowly you begin to laugh.

“How long are you planning on working there, anyways? Soon you’ll begin to show. School is already stressful enough, don’t you think?” Jungkook decides to take this time to put away the groceries so it doesn’t appear that he’s being too demanding of you and your wishes. “You can always…take a break from both. Just relax.”

The airfryer beeps and you thank the universe for giving you a bit of a distraction. You don’t want to think about school or work now and all you wanted to do was sink your teeth into this grilled cheese.

“We still have to tell our parents.”

Another situation you were holding back from, even if it has been three months since you initially found out. You had held off telling anyone in your family and - even now - it was awkward meeting Jungkook for the first time to reveal that you were pregnant. Besides, you weren’t that far along and you didn’t necessarily look pregnant. Chaeyoung thought you did but that was only because she knew and always insisted on touching your “bump” that you swore wasn’t there.

You take a big bite of the sandwich and swallow yourself in a silent self-pity party.

“I know.” is all you say in response to Jungkook.

As the last item is put away, Jungkook then drops yet another statement that shouldn’t surprise you.

“I found somewhere bigger for us to move.”

You lick your lips, whipping your head to look at Jungkook.

“Bigger?” you hum. “This place is already huge.”

“Not big enough for a baby.” Jungkook tilts his head. “They’ll need their own room eventually. It’ll grow into a child then a teenager and-”

“Please,” you close your eyes for a moment with a shake of your head. “you’re getting too far into the future.”

“Someone has to.” Jungkook retorts. “I’ve been looking in the area for us to upsize. I didn’t want to get anything without your approval.”

“You don’t need my approval.” you snicker. “Just get-”

“Stop doing that.” Jungkook’s tone changes to one that’s more serious.

You take the last bite of your grilled cheese just as the mood changes. You knit your brows at the man.

“You and the baby, Y/N,” Jungkook begins, taking a few steps closer to you. His hair had grown back out from the cut he initially did and it bounces with each step. “are my top priority. I want to take care of you. Your opinion still matters at the end of the day.”

There’s something in you that shifts and you blame the baby completely for fucking with your hormones.

Jungkook is taken aback when your eyes begin to become glossy and you begin to cry right in front of him. For a moment he’s stunned, thinking that he has said something to you that caused you to cry. Then, he understands just how emotional you were (thanks to the fetus inside of you) when you crash yourself into his chest and begin to sob.

“This pregnancy is kicking your ass already.” Jungkook jokes, but his arm wraps you into a hug, one hand soothingly rubbing your back.

“Fuck you.” you sniffle.

“I did and this is how we got here.” Jungkook jokes with a chuckle. “You’re crying now but…I think you’re going to hate me soon.”

“Why?” you murmur against his chest.

There’s a quick knock on the door followed by it beginning to jingle. You slowly lift yourself from Jungkook’s chest, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Remember that I love you.” Jungkook presses his lips to yours, pecking it. “And, I love our baby.”

“Jungkook…”

You can hear voices enter - unfamiliar ones.

“I invited my parents over for lunch.” Jungkook says quickly. “Please don’t hate me, Y/N, my mother has been begging to meet you for months and-”

Your hands dig into his shirt, your eyes widening. Your sadness - caused by the great amount of love and adoration you felt at his words - appeared to diminish on the spot.

“You did what?!” you hiss, teeth gritting.

“Jungkook?”

That must’ve been Jungkook’s mother calling for him, followed by a pair of footsteps inching closer to where you two were.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook. Now you were panicking - probably more than you needed to be. Jungkook told you stories of his parents and how excited his mother was to meet you. He claimed he spoke highly of you to her and you didn’t doubt him. Still, you looked a mess. You weren’t dressed to meet even your own parents right now. There’s a stain on your shirt and the pajama pants you wore were Jungkook’s iron man ones because they were comfy.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook again.

“I hate you.” you murmur as Jungkook turns around just as his mother peaks her head through the kitchen to find her son.

“Ma!” Jungkook gushed, opening his arms to greet his mother with a hug that he met her half way to.

“Your hair has gotten so long since the last time I saw you.” you hear his mother speak, her voice soft and motherly-like. “You never come around anymore.”

“I saw you a month ago.” Jungkook snorts. “I’ve been busy. Where is-”

“He’s stuck at meetings all day.” his mother adds, already knowing what her son was going to ask concerning his father.

You stand awkwardly behind Jungkook, your nerves beating your ass mentally.

“Ma,” Jungkook slowly steps aside and turns around. “this is-”

“Y/N.” she finishes, coming a bit closer to you to wrap you in a hug. It stuns you for a moment and Jungkook offers a soft smile when she does. You proceed to hug her back, your irritation towards her son slowly dying down. “I thought I was never going to meet you.”

Jungkook exhales, holding in a breath he wasn’t aware of. “We’ve been busy-”

“That’s what he’s been saying.” his mother now speaks to you with a shake of her head. “You’re so cute.”

Your body burns with embarrassment at her compliment but you gently thank her. You look a mess, truly, and the more you remember this, the more you think about how you wanted to punch Jungkook in the gut.

“I was just about to start lunch.” Jungkook claps his hands. “You and Y/N can relax while-”

“I can help.” you suggest.

“No.” Jungkook deadpans, his eyes widening a bit. He makes a gesture with his head at his mother right in front of you. It’s as if you wanted him to die.

You release a huff. No physical labor. Wouldn’t it look more suspicious if you didn’t help? Then his mother would suspect something.

She could also suspect that you were lazy and using her son for-

“His father cooks all the time.” his mother holds onto your hands and offers you such a warm and kind smile. “That’s where he gets it from.”

Jungkook’s mother was a kind woman and she appeared to like you just as Jungkook said she would. She speaks fondly of her son and shares stories of his childhood, all the while Jungkook cooks in the background. He makes you tea, one you usually drink when you feel sick and serves his mother some wine.

“I thought I’ll never get to meet you. Jungkook kept you locked up in here.”

Jungkook chuckles softly at the tone his mother gives him, his cheeks flushing.

“I…I’ve been busy.” you laugh off, as well. “If I would’ve known you were coming I would’ve…dressed better.”

“Nonsense.” his mother shakes her head with a hearty laugh. “It took a lot of self-control to not come here myself and meet you. You bring so much joy to Kookie’s life.”

Jungkook remains silent, plating the food for the three of you. He glances your way to silently assure that you weren’t overwhelmed. You’re a bit flustered as he can see but comfortable nonetheless.

“Okay~” Jungkook sing-songs after a few more minutes, placing two plates in front of you and his mother. He goes to serve you two some water, as well - extra ice for his mother and just a few cubes for you. Just the way you two enjoyed it.

Jungkook has always enjoyed watching you eat and it increases now that you’re pregnant. He - unbeknownst to you - began to search for what was healthy for the child and how he could introduce it to you in a way you’d enjoy it.

“When are you guys going to tell me?”

You stop chewing to focus your attention on Jungkook's mother.

“The tea…the constant sneaking of stomach rubs…” her eyes lowered to Jungkook’s hand indeed on your stomach - he insisted on touching it whenever because he swore he could feel something, even if you told him that was impossible. “...the fact that I finally was able to meet her after months.”

Jungkook gently taps your thigh as he faces his mother. She offers a little eyebrow raise.

“Okay then, Ma.” Jungkook shrugs. “Y/N’s pregnant. I’m looking for a bigger-”

“I hope it’s a girl.” Jungkook’s mom sighs out. “I’m so sick of all the men.”

She was actually excited, even wrapping you in a hug.

“We can just wait a little longer-“

“We’re not waiting longer, Y/N.” Jungkook cuts you off.

You release a short sigh, your nerves eating you alive at this very moment.

You didn’t want to have to do this - not now at least. You had time. You could even pop up randomly in a few months with the baby in hand if it meant avoiding telling your parents.

It wasn’t as if your parents were the traditional type. They weren’t married when they had your brother and by the pictures you saw, your mother was heavily pregnant with you at her own wedding.

Still, you always told them that a child was the last thing you wanted, if at all. Your mother always told you it was because you didn’t find a man worth giving a baby to - and you hated to be told “I told you so”.

Your parents were expecting you and Jungkook for dinner this Saturday evening. It was becoming a habit that she saw you and Jungkook once every week. She would gush about how handsome and smart Jungkook was and how happy she noticed you were lately - ew.

“Why are you so hellbent on waiting anyways?” Jungkook asks. “My mother already knows.”

“That’s because you trapped me.” you seeth.

Jungkook chuckles, poking your cheek playfully. “Because of situations like this, baby.” he says, knocking on the front door. Usually, you would walk in, yet he noticed just how much you were stalling and decided to take things into his own hands. “It’s now or never.”

“I hate you.” you hiss, turning around just as your mother opens the door. “Mother..” you murmur.

“Why are you knocking, Y/N? Come in!” she says, wrapping both you and Jungkook into a hug. “You look even more handsome, Jungkook.”

You roll your eyes and scoff, going deeper into the home. Your brother was already here and appeared to be in a heated debate with your father in the living room while his children, really your niece, ran wild.

“Stop running.” you say to her as she nearly crashes into you. “Or you’re going to fall.” Eventually.

“You’re mean.” was all she responded with and continues to run. Your nephew has since learned how to walk and he attempts to follow his sister, yet he’s much slower.

You release a sigh - this is what your life was going to be soon. A child running around not bothering to listen to you in the slightest.

“I have some wine,” your mother makes her way towards the kitchen where you and Jungkook follow. There’s a pot boiling on the stove and the aroma alone causes your stomach to churn. “Y/N, grab the wine glasses.”

“Hey Jungkook!” your niece runs past you, nearly causing you to stumble to get to the man. She widens her arms. “Can you flip me like you did last time?”

“No.” you deadpan.

“Sure!” Jungkook exclaims.

You sigh.

You grasp two wine glasses, one for your mother and the other for Jungkook.

Your niece is occupying Jungkook’s time with the amount of time she demands to be flipped while your nephew - who manages to waddle over - watches with slight amazement.

“Why are there only two wine glasses?” your mother asks.

“I’m not really in the mood to drink.”

Jungkook glances your way, furrowing a brow.

“Why not?” she asks. “You’re always in the mood for wine.”

You shrug your shoulders, hoping that would be the end of it. You make your way to the cabinets to find yourself something to munch on.

“How about a beer?” she asks you, going to the fridge to open it and look for whatever your father has in there. “We have-”

“I don’t want a beer.” you say, taking out some cookies. “Really, mom-”

“Are you sick, Y/N?”

You turn around to face her. “Am I really that much of an alcoholic?” you question, unsure why you declining alcohol was such a big deal.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” your mother waves you off.

You roll your eyes and dig into the cookies. Your eyes watch as Jungkook begins to play with both kids now, your niece on his back while he swings your nephew around. You swallow, tilting your head a bit at how content he seems to be. They were treating him like a jungle gym but he actually enjoyed it.

“I actually have a bottle of champagne.” your mother says, dragging you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t realized she left the kitchen until she returned with said bottle of champagne. “Expensive, too. I actually bought it on sale!”

Your mother this time actually takes the initiative to grab three glasses herself and pour. Jungkook gives your niece his phone to occupy her while he places your nephew on his shoulders. He strolls over to where you are leaning against the counter.

“Mother…”

“Jungkook.” she hands Jungkook his glass, the bubbling champagne sizzling inside. “And Y/N-”

“I don’t want anything to drink.”

“Well I don’t see why not.” Jungkook gently chuckles at your mothers words. “Jungkook is-”

“I don’t give a damn what Jungkook is doing.” you munch aggressively on another cookie. “He’s the one that got me pregnant.”

Your mother falls silent for a moment, her eyes slowly widening as she registers your words. Your nephew has his chubby hands on Jungkook’s forehead, his chin resting atop of his head. Jungkook is grinning encouragingly. “Not exactly how I wanted to tell you…” he trails off.

“We could’ve said it over dinner if I wasn’t pressured to drink.” you huff, continuing to munch on your cookies in peace. You admit that now that your mother knew, it did take a weight off of your shoulders.

“Preg…nant…?”

Your mothers behavior is different for Jungkook. She’s such a bubbly person that her state right now - wide eyes and shock - has him questioning if she was disappointed or not. He swallows, a deep sorrow running through him. He slowly puts your nephew onto the ground so he can waddle away and he comes face to face with your mother.

“I love Y/N.” Jungkook exclaims, eyes determined. He didn’t want your mother to think that he was just going to get you pregnant and not plan on being there for you. Sure the two of you were young - but Jungkook loved you and the baby. “And I promise to love her and the baby unconditionally-”

Your mother begins to cry, shuttin Jungkook up. The sorrow runs through him again and his eyes widen. Has this been a mistake?

You roll your eyes. “Happy tears.” you tell Jungkook, not wanting him to break into tears too by getting the wrong idea from your mother. “She’s always this dramatic.”

“My baby,” your mother wraps you in a tight embrace. “is having a baby!”

Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief.

“And by such a sweet and handsome man!” she continues to gush, thanking the heavens that it was by Jungkook, someone she was praying you didn’t scare away with your attitude.

“You’re supposed to scold me about finishing college.” you say, hugging her back.

“You can still finish college. Don’t be rash.” your mother squeezes you a little tighter. “Don’t stress yourself too hard.”

“That’s what I said!” Jungkook pipes in, nodding his head. “She doesn’t even want to quit her job and allow me to support her.”

You gasp, glaring at Jungkook. He knows that your mother would take his side and this was his plan all along.

“Why must you be so stubborn?” your mother releases you from her tight embrace and scolds you with hard eyes. “It’s not about you anymore, Y/N-”

“Not you, too.” you groan. You didn’t have time for this right now.

“My mother and I are searching for bigger homes.” Jungkook smiles at your mother. “I would love for you to join us.”

“Kiss ass.” you grumble, taking a whole cookie into your mouth.

“I would love to!” your mother is brought to tears again at how loving and genuine Jungkook was. It’s as if she couldn’t believe it. “Have we thought of names-”

“We don’t even know the gender.” you shake your head.

“I,” Jungkook places a hand on his chest. “want a girl.” he admits.

Your mother again sobs - because men typically wanted boys. You roll your eyes right out of your head at how dramatic she was being.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook for having your mother love him harder.

“That was easier than I expected.”

After dinner with your family - where your mother dramatically shared the news of your pregnancy - you and Jungkook returned back home. It felt, dare you say, great not holding in such a secret any longer. Especially since you didn’t feel disappointed.

You always envisioned yourself having a steady career after college and if you found the right person, then marriage. You didn’t like to look too far into the future and think of children, but you suppose now you had to.

“You and your mom are so much alike.” Jungkook chuckles, his hands rubbing along your back. “So emotional at times.”

“Fuck off.”

Jungkook only grins wider, massaging your lower back. He does this every night now, even lighting candles to further relax you. He makes it harder to not depend on him - and that's exactly what he wants.

“Have you thought about what I said?” Jungkook questions. “About working?”

You sigh, your eyes closing.

“I have.” you murmur. “...you aren’t going to stop pestering me about it.”

“Of course not, baby. You can’t work while pregnant.” Jungkook scoffs. “The man is supposed to provide.”

“It’s the 21st century.” you find your lips curving into a soft smile at his words - fuck Jeon Jungkook for feeling this way. “What if I get bored?”

“You wouldn’t. You’re always sleeping or eating nowadays.”

Your eyes snap open and you furrow a brow.

“Besides, we need to prepare for the baby.” Jungkook’s hands curved on your neck, rubbing his thumbs into it. You sigh low. “Buy baby clothes…furniture.”

You hum, nodding your head slowly. You’ve come across a few baby items that cause your heart to jolt at how adorable they were. You could just imagine decorating the nursery for the baby alongside Jungkook, clothing the baby in little clothes. Getting to see Jungkook hold the baby in his arms similarly to the way he holds your nephew.

Jungkook leans away as you turn to lay on your back. Your eyes flutter open to look at Jungkook. He tilts his head. “Are you okay?”

You nod your head, hand reaching out to touch Jungkook’s. His fingers entangle with yours. “It feels…weird.” you confess. “Being pregnant…we’ll actually be parents soon.”

Jungkook brings your hand to his lips and presses light kisses.

“I’m happy.” Jungkook admits, though the both of you knew this. “It’s sudden. But…I’m happy.”

Your heart flutters and you lick your lips. “I’m happy, too.” you whisper. “You’ll be a good dad.”

Jungkook’s eyes slightly widen at your words and his heart flutters. Jungkook deepens the kiss on your hand. “You think so?” he murmurs, lowering himself to face you. His breath tickles your skin.

“Yeah.” you nod. Your hand untangles from his and you place it onto your cheek. Your thumb traces his lips - moments like this wasn’t rare anymore. You were more loving to Jungkook now, especially seeing how he was. You’re reminded constantly how good Jungkook treats you and there wasn’t a reason to (pretend) not to like him or his actions.

“You’ll be so good to us.”

You connect your lips to his, hand on his cheek now clasping on his shirt to bring him closer. Your legs wrap around his waist to cage him in.

Jungkook moans into the kiss, cupping your naked thigh, shorts riding up your upper thigh.

“You’re just trying to make me feel good.” Jungkook snickers.

You hum, connecting your lips to his again, pecking gently. “I want you to fuck me.” you murmur against his lips, going to remove your shorts in a rush.

Jungkook chuckles, licking his lips. “Of course you do.” he states, voice deeper. He wasn’t opposed to this, however. He wanted you whenever you wanted him.

“Don’t act like you don’t want me either.” you manage to get out of your shorts, panties sticking to you.

“I always want you.” Jungkook rushes to do the same, removing his sweatpants. His cock throbs at just the thought of being inside of you. “This is why you’re pregnant now.” his hands go to tug at your panties, fingers forcing their way past them to touch at your clit. “Wanna taste you…”

“No.” you say, pushing him away. “I’m too impatient for that.”

You just needed Jungkook inside of you, no foreplay needed - for now. You push your panties off and swing your leg over to get atop of him.

“Fuck - okay.” Jungkook doesn’t need to be told twice. He loved foreplay with you - you on his tongue or his fingers deep inside of you. He loved it all.

Your hand reaches back to grasp his cock, centering it at your entrance. You bite your lip, fluttering your eyes to look directly into Jungkook’s ones.

You enter his cock slowly, your lips parting to release a moan.

Jungkook pushes his head deeper against his pillows, his hands placed on your hips as you begin to buckle them. “You’re so beautiful…”

“I barely did anything yet and you’re already simping.”

It’s flattering, however, that it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to indeed simp for you.

You sit on Jungkooks cock fully and shudder. The hair on your skin rises at how full you feel with him inside of you. It’s a feeling that isn’t foreign, yet a sensation that you could never get enough of.

You don’t bother to waste any time, immediately going to buckle your hips in a rhythmic motion that has the man groaning beneath you. You rarely were the one in control, but when you were it always drove Jungkook crazy. Maybe he was just obsessed with you as you said.

You lean back, head pushed back and your eyes closed with your hands begin to roam his chest. To Jungkook, you were beautiful like an angel who’s light is shining brightly down at you. He just knows the way you fuck yourself against his cock that it feels good to you. Your pussy is squelching and your moans only grow louder and louder by the second.

“You’re getting tired.” Jungkook notes, instantly thrusting upwards to meet you halfway. “I can take over.”

You don’t fight him - you never did. However, Jungkook doesn’t move from his position and instead continues to ram into you, his nails digging into your skin.

“It’s…so deep.” you groan, your head hanging.

Stamina unmatched, Jungkook's hips never halter. His eyes are unblinking, as well, watching every reaction this caused.

Jungkook leans forward to wrap both arms around your body protectively, continuing his brutal pounding. His lips leave wet kisses upon your skin, a need to taste you like he always does - but he understands you need to cum now.

“You look so pretty on my cock. Like always…”

Maybe it’s the pregnancy that allows you to have this new found glow to you - that or his mind was playing tricks on him. Regardless, he wants nothing more than to cum deep inside of you like the both of you desire.

“I know you’re going to cum…” Jungkook continues, this time placing his lips onto yours.You two engage into a heated kiss turned makeout session, somehow him never ceasing his thrusts. Your tongue dances with his and all you could truly think about was cumming right now.

“...g…gonna cum…” you say between kisses, your hands tangling into Jungkook’s dark tresses for support and he doesn’t mind in the slightest. “....wanna feel you cum in me.”

Jungkook groans - this is why you are pregnant now, he thinks - such dirty words and needy-like that he cannot help but give you what you want. His tongue licks onto your skin, trailing down your jaw to your neck. His teeth clamp down onto your skin.

You’re cumming as Jungkook’s teeth continue to nip at your skin, eyes fluttering close. Jungkook himself isn’t far behind, sloppy thrusts pounding deep into your wound and echoing off of the wall until he too is cumming hard, milky ropes of cum painting them entirely.

months later….

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