#trust that this is baby verse

[lionfanged]

SPIRITED AWAY SENTENCES. // accepting!

@sinsolucion : ❛ i'd like to help you, but there's nothing i can do. it's one of our rules here. ❜

"that's... that's it? you can't do anything?"

frustration bubbled and frothed just beneath the surface, incapable of fully accepting that this was out of the hands of those who were supposed to help.

"i know i don't have evidence, but i... i know he took it. he's the only one who could."

an attempt at false confidence brought his voice into a desperate lift, golden eyes searching the face of the officer who looked no older than him. atticus had thought this would be clean and cut--a classmate stole his laptop, the police would help him retrieve it, problem solved.

but the combination of a lack of photographic evidence, zero eye witnesses, and it all occurring on the university's private campus, resulting it being at the discretion of campus police, who already told him it was a no-go...

atticus's teeth grit, angry at his helplessness, and angry at the system. he couldn't afford another laptop. he had skipped months worth of meals and saved every dollar he could to afford it. he already was testing the limits of what little aid he had--he couldn't risk retaking expensive classes just because he couldn't access the online materials, and library computers could only do so much.

"... okay, i understand."

like that, the waves of anger settled into understanding, and he apologetically bowed his head--an old habit enforced by his mother.

"thank you for your time, officer."

the police could not help--so, that simply meant he had to do as he had always done, which was handle it alone.

[msfcatlover]

*dumps truth serum into my reverse!robins*

Steph blinked, as though she couldn't quite understand why she wasn't falling, then looked the hand wrapped around one of her arms. She looked up, green eyes meeting his. "Jay?"

Jason braced himself. Just because they'd managed to work things out between them didn't mean Steph didn't have a few gallons of unspoken vitriol she was about to spill out, and it didn't mean it wouldn't hurt. Keeping his voice Bluejay-confident was going to be a challenge. "Mask."

Steph's expression crumpled. "I was right."

"Really?" Jason asked, widening his eyes in faux shock as he helped her to her feet. "Damn. When?"

"At the Tower," she said, as though she could barely choke out the words, "I'm so, so sorry I was right."

Face it, mini-me, you're just not cut out for this.

Jason swallowed. "C'mon, Mask. Let's get you an antidote."

"I should've tried harder," Steph said as Jason guided her towards the medical ward. "I shouldn't have given up after just one fight, I should've fucking worked so much harder to actually scare you off."

She lifted one hand, not quite touching the cheek where the Joker's brand had burned, like she could still see it weeping & raw despite the skin graft and subsequent dip in a Lazarus pool long since washing it away. Like she was afraid touching Jason would burn him all over again.

Acting on instinct, Jason leaned his face into her hand. "I'm right here, Shadow," he said, ignoring the small gasp at the sound of her old name. "I'm safe. Everything's going to be okay, just as soon as we get an antidote into you."

"But you weren't," Steph said, stumbling as she tried to keep up with Jason. She seemed to have forgotten Bruce & Damian trailing behind them. "You almost died, baby. I almost let you die."

"But you didn't, and I'm fine. See?" Jason helped her onto one of the cots, and stepped back to hold open his arms.

Tears dripped down Steph's face. "You're so big now. You shouldn't've... God, Jason, I'm so fucking sorry, you shouldn't have been anywhere near—"

"Steph," Jason said, stepping forward to grab her hand at the same time Damian grabbed a syringe.

"You're not actually my mini-me, you know that right?" Her hands were shaking. "I just don't want you to end up like me."

Jason sighed. "I know, Steph. I know. Now do you want me to do the blood draw or should Dami do it?"

Steph turned, seemly shocked to find Damian on the other side of the cot. "When did...?"

"Short term memory loss," Batman muttered, fiddling with microscope and what Jason really hoped was a sample of Ivy's chemical, not an empty slide giving Bruce an excuse to not make eye contact.

"Damian," Steph decided after a long moment of staring. Damian looked startled. "I trust you," Steph said, holding her arm out so Damian could wipe it down with a disinfecting wipe. "Which is really stupid, and I know it's stupid, but I can't make myself stop. I wish you didn't hate me now."

Damian sighed. "I don't hate you, habibti."

"Don't fuckin' lie to me, Damian."

"I don't."

Steph snorted.

Damian scowled. "We'll table this until your brain is working properly."

"Oh goodie," Steph groaned. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Fuck, my head hurts. Can I have an overdose of Advil to go, please?"

"Not until we know how the chemicals are interacting with your system," Bruce told her.

"I can turn off the lights?" Jason suggested.

"Mini-me, you are a godsend. Not one of us bastards deserves you." Damian capped off the last vial and nodded at Jason. Steph didn't even notice when the needle was taken out of her arm. "I cannot imagine what you must've done in your last life to get stuck with us."

"Murder," Jason deadpanned. "So much murder. You better be careful, or you'll reincarnate as me in your next life." Jason hit the switch, leaving only the lights around the med bay's work station to hold back the darkness.

Steph snorted and flopped back on the cot. 

"I missed this," she said to no one in particular. "I shouldn't, I mean, it's awful down here. I hate it. You're all assholes, and hanging around is only going to get one of us hurt. But I'm an idiot who can't let go, so here I am: missing this."

Damian clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. "Welcome to the family."

This time when Stephanie laughed, it sounded genuine.

[silverirony]

faulkner is a great character and i still want him to win whatever fucked up little game of theocracy he's playing but i dont trust a single thing he says anymore. "oooh carpenter ill never betray you" yeah okay Richard. "i promise im not manipulating you this time" you're as two faced as your god and twice as slimy.

[romances-not-tragedies]

Proud of Tag

Thank you @winterandwords for the tag!

Instructions: Post a snippet you’ve written that you’re pleased by/proud of and tag some friends.

This is from my Jo Gar fanfic as part of the Perfect 'Verse:

“That Miguel Chua is making our lives difficult!” Sadi Ratan uttered in exasperation. “Simply because he likes to make our lives difficult?” Jo Gar asked, expressionless, or at least he tried to sound to be. He had just finished smoking one of his favored local brown-papered cigarettes and was desperate for another. Another minute with Lieutenant Sadi Ratan and he would go mad. “Or that you didn’t like the fact that he didn’t cower at you like the other Chinese suspects we’d had before?”

Tagging: @bookish-karina, @satohqbanana, @avoidingcertaindoom, @thewriteflame + open tag to those who are interested.

Happy writing!

[nordicbananas]

oughogh i have death, thrice drawn stuck in my head rn..

[normaltothemax]

@therebetterbepie from here

Jason hadn’t celebrated his last birthday. His mom had been dead, his dad had been in jail or dead or who gave a shit, and he’d been on the streets on his own. Hadn’t even realized he’d turned eleven until a few weeks after the fact. If Dean hadn’t wanted to celebrate, Jason didn’t think he’d be that upset by it. Maybe a little disappointed, deep down, but really, in the grand scheme of things, who gave a shit about his stupid birthday?

Dean, apparently.

Looking up from his plate, his eyes scanned Dean’s face, not all that surprised that he did want to celebrate. With the emphasis he put on all of Jason’s accomplishments, the various (and sometimes seemingly random) ‘milestones’ Jason reached, this was very on brand for the man. Still, despite all the progress Jason had made, despite Dean proving time and time again that nothing was a trick or a trap, he still couldn’t quite tamp down all that suspicion every time Dean did or said something nice.

“Can we make one?” he asked after a few moments of watching Dean and thinking about it. “My mom always made cake with me.” If his birthday was on a good day, they’d sing and dance around the kitchen as they baked a cake from scratch, and then later she’d take him out somewhere—the park or the library for a new book, maybe somewhere like the zoo, if she could scrape enough money together. If it was on a bad day, they’d make cake from a box mix, more subdued but still generally upbeat, before the pain became too much and she got high after it was iced. No matter what, though, she always, always baked with him. Jason had been gutted last year, when he’d finally realized he’d missed that tradition and would never get to experience it again.

Baking with Dean wouldn’t be the same, but maybe it’d make him feel closer to his mom again anyways.

[binch-i-might-be]

i had a sad but happy thought :(

So Trust Verse AU but Ellie survives, and the first time John meets her, it takes a few moments for reality to really hit John that "oh my god, I'm a father now"

internally, he freaks out. And Gwash senses this. So he tries to talk to John about it.

And John's just like: "I don't know HOW to raise a kid, it's not like I had the best examples to follow!" (And all that fun stuff)

And Gwash rightfully points out: "you took care of your siblings" (and probably did a better job at it than your father). But John's like "it's not the same thing tho"

Gwash sighs (because this boy is a disaster wrapped in trauma and newfound anxiety), takes him by his shoulders, and goes: "It is the same thing because you filled in where your father failed. You can raise this child, and you're going to do one hell of a good job. I know it."

Sorry for that lol. I'm sad and bored and have been hyperfixating on your series for like three months. :)

YES. YES YES YES ABSOLUTELY

for SOME reason I actually never gave much thought to John's reaction first meeting his baby but oh that has so much potential.

Alex handing her to him and at first John is nothing but happy. absolutely head over heels. that's their daughter, it's Alex and him and something entirely new, and she's beautiful and he loves her and he loves Alex.

and then Alex walks away for whatever reason and John is left alone with a whole human baby. like a whole ass person. who depends on THEM. for everything. as in. JOHN. he's supposed to be her father and take care of her when his own father never took care of him.

so he's standing there silently panicking when Gwash comes in, takes a single look at this disaster of a boy, and clocks him immediately.

"everyone is scared at first. it's natural," he says, and John stares at him like he's insane.

"I don't know how to be a father. I don't know what fathers are supposed to do."

Gwash shrugs, infuriatingly unbothered. "whatever it takes."

John is not reassured by this, so Gwash sighs and comes over, gently touches his face.

"the fact alone that you're worried about doing wrong by her means you're going to be a good father. bad fathers don't worry about failing their children."

John blinks and holds his little daughter a bit tighter. "I don't know how to raise a child," he says quietly, and Gwash knows that's not true because he's heard John talk about his siblings and the role he played in their upbringing, but that's not what the boy needs to hear right now.

"of course you don't. no one does. there's no written manual, John. no two children can be raised the same way–you just have to get to know her. you'll know what she needs."

he'll know what she needs.

he will know what she needs.

John is not going to fail his daughter.

[boysgenuis]

˙   ៹    ♡     @illctaffairs           /            one ( 1 ) new voice message !

            ❛ —- noah. ❜ more of a breath than a word, pushed out against the phone's receiver. a whisper, quiet.  ❛ i am doing something —— really fucking stupid right now. and i'm doing it so i don't — so i stop thinking of jasper, but now i'm here & i just keep thinking of you. ❜ another breath, shaky, that pushes across the line.  ❛ are you thinking about me ? ❜ a creak from a door hinge, the steady pulse of music before it's muffled.  ❛ i came here to move on & all i'm thinking is that i already did move on. & i'm wondering how long i've felt like this. how long i've wanted you to just—- ❜ a lengthy pause filled just with the sound of breathing.  ❛ i don't know what i'm doing. i'm not sutton. i don't—this is stupid. sorry. i'm drunk. i'm just gonna—- ❜ another long pause. a sniffle & he clears his throat.  ❛ can —- when you get this, can you make sure yumi got home okay ? i'm gonna ... i'll call her an uber & i know she can take care of herself, i just want to make sure. yeah —- yeah. goodnight. ❜

[magioffire]

remember when i had res/ident evil listed in  my rules on the fandoms im not familiar with/dont usually rp with because of lack of familiarity and now i got a whole ass verse and ship with a canon character in the r/esident evil universe lmfaoosdjkskfgdlgsd good for ME

[helldustedstories]

@madefate asked: ❛ you look good like this. ❜ / blitz @ stolas

subtle smut sentence starters // accepting

Now that Stella had moved out, and the divorce was actually proceeding, and Stolas was (mostly) fully healed up from the fact that Stella had tried to have him killed (something he should really put down on paper, considering he had witnesses to that fact; could only help with the divorce), Stolas was trying something new.

He knew full well he didn't have the best self-esteem; it was on the floor, most of the time, but….the way that hearing someone call him "ugly" had made it much easier to believe, having someone who genuinely considered him to be attractive, and who told him that….was helping him recalibrate his sense of himself, for lack of a better word. Because when Blitz called him Pretty Bird or told him he looked handsome, pretty, whatever word he decided to use…., Stolas believed him.

Which was why he'd decided to try something a little different today. Rather than his traditional outift, he'd put on a loose black shirt and trousers, followed by a corset vest that had caught his eye. It was black and brocade, and he thought it was stunning, himself, but….this was the first time he'd actually put it on, other than when he'd first purchased it.

He'd admittedly been a little bit apprehensive when he made his way out to where Blitz was waiting for him, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt, to try to make sure it was sitting the way he wanted it to.

But after only a moment, when Stolas glanced over at Blitz, to see what he thought, the imp said "You look good like this," and the owl practically lit up.

"You really think so?" he asks, glancing down at his outfit. The corset could probably tighten a bit more, but he'd decided to wear it fairly loose instead, just pulled tight enough to make sure it was closed properly. "You don't think it's too much or looks silly? Because I could change; I'd just have to get out of this first."

[movedto-mastcrmarksman]

"Stop i- sto- get OFF! It's mine!"

Some bug must have bitten him because his immediate thought was to double down. Clint absolutely WANTED IT. Plus he was hungry. ❝ C'mon! I'm starvin'! ❞ Did he even like what Tony was snacking on? Not at all, but the part of the archer that was so deeply coded as being a little brother, had to have it now. He's practically crawling over Tony, reaching for the bag in his hand. If an elbow gets sharply placed in between the other man's ribs, that was not on him.

Tony should know this about Clint by now. ❝ Haven't ya heard? ❞ HE'S A BABY BROTHER. That fact should be the only reason needed in why he is forgiven for his actions. ❝ Sharing is caring. ❞ He leans back, relents for only a moment to look Tony in the eye with his best puppy eyes, taught to him by the master Lucky. ❝ So share, you care about me, right? ❞

[moralpuppet]

YOUNG OREL TAKES THAT MUCH AS APPROVAL! Excited little giggles, not tall enough to reach any higher than Clay's leg the child wraps arms around an emotionally distant father!

❝ I love you, Dad!  ❞  THIS DISPLAY OF AFFECTION SURELY COMES FROM SOME 8 MONTHS SPENT WITH GRANDPA. Before now Orel never knew this kind of language of affection.

Releasing the embrace bright eyes shift towards the door.❝ I'll go draw Mom one next oh! And Shapey!  ❞ / @dogtccth cont.

[nightmarecountry-a]

“I need a new shoelace.” His one converse sneaker is floppy and open, the other tied up. He’s leaning his head back against the passenger side seat, watching the tongue of the sneaker flop uselessly every time he flexes his foot.

The Corinthian laughed around the wad of gum in its mouth, still chewing. Relaxed in the driver's seat, music thumping low from the speakers and fingers drumming on the steering wheel in time to it, he looked utterly at ease: like they were on a perfectly normal road trip together, and not hurtling down the highway getting closer and closer to Stiles' inevitable end with every passing second.

[ I BROKE A THOUSAND HEARTS BEFORE I MET YOU...

... I'LL BREAK A THOUSAND MORE, BABY, BEFORE I AM THROUGH. ]

He turned the radio up, just a little.

"Worried you'll trip if you try to run again?"

[jungkookstatts]

Cherry Flavored

[Summary]: Your biker boyfriend takes you on a joyride.

[Theme]: Established realtionship!AU, Biker!JK

[Rating]: 18+, explicit content, oral (f receiving), spitting, dom!JK, riding, creampie, spanking

[Word Count]: 5,498

[A/N]: The biker verse has come to me in the new year. So has covid. But biker fantasies heal me. Enjoy! (P.s. thinking of doing a Tae fic soon??)

“Just, hold onto me,” Jungkook smiles. It’s a toothy grin, one that would usually send butterflies of affection straight to your tummy. His lip piercings shine like the metal around his fingers and ears, catching the midnight glow of the street lamps against them.

“There’s no seat belt,” you exhale.

“Of course,” he laughs a little. Brown hairs fall over his forehead with the soft force of his voice. You’re too nervous to move them out of the way like you usually would right now. “It’s a motorcycle, baby. I’m your seat belt.”

You laugh in disbelief.

“Kook, I’m not sure—” you begin, but he stops you. Cold hands cup your cheeks, his nose inches from yours. You can smell cherries on his breath, left over from the cherry flavored lollipop he bought from one of the gum ball machines at the entrance of the diner you just ate at.

“Baby,” he kisses your lips once. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you know that.”

You exhale against his lips, knowing his words are true. But still, your mind can’t help but evaluate all the “what ifs”.

“I’ll go slow,” he smiles softly. “No games.”

“Promise?” You search his eyes. You know he isn’t lying. He’d never play with your safety like that. He loves you too much. Such an over protective boyfriend. A big teddy bear at heart despite the piercings, tattoos, and loud motorcycle he has to his name. He’d never do anything to harm you.

“I promise,” he kisses you again. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you exhale. The boy smiles again. It shoves your nervous butterflies away and briefly replaces them with those affectionate butterflies you missed dearly.

“Good,” he kisses you deeper this time. You feel his pillowy lips against yours, sliding between your lips like they were made to be there. You almost grab his jaw to keep him against you. But he cuts the kiss short. The taste of cherries is left on your lips when he pulls away and grabs the spare helmet off the back of his bike.

“Put this on,” he hands it to you. It’s black and glossy and twice the size of your head. But you slide it on anyways, looking at your boyfriend through the tinted glasses of the helmet.

“How do I look?” You ask him.

Jungkook’s heart nearly flips. Who would have thought you’d be so cute with a helmet on? He did. You just confirmed it.

“Cold,” he settles with. Pulling of his biker jacket, he puts it over your shoulders. It’s night, and the air will only get colder once he starts riding. The jacket will provide extra protection if you fall, too. It’s thick exterior and interior act as a buffer against any surface. He doesn’t have a spare, but he’d risk himself for you on any occasion.

You slide the bulky sleeves up your arms, feeling slightly uncomfortable by the unfamiliar garment. It doesn’t really feel like a proper jacket, too stiff and thick to have on unless you were riding. 

“Now, the key is to just lean,” he puts his own helmet over his head, trying to refocus. You watch his tattooed fingers grasp the handle of the left side of his bike after he walks over to it. “And hold onto me. Tight.”

He swings a leg over his bike, situating himself. Cocking his head to the side, he signals to you to come over. You do as you’re told. 

With timid hands, you tightly hold onto his shoulder and hike yourself over his bike. It wobbles, and your heart skips a couple beats at the thought of falling. But Jungkook is calm, and you feel slightly reassured knowing he trusts the bike won’t do as you thought it would.

“H-How tight?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his waist. The softness of his t-shirt makes you feel better. Rather, the feeling of his body underneath your fingertips does. It’s soft and warm, but you feel the ridges of his abs as you test the tightness of your grip.

“Tighter,” he asks. You do.

He shakes his head. You see a wrinkle in his eye, knowing he’s smiling behind his helmet. With his rough hands, he grabs your own, tightening them himself around his waist.

“For dear life, Y/n,” he rubs your hands soothingly afterward. 

You nod, doing as he says. A raspy chuckle leaves his lips at the tightness of your grip. He pulls his biker gloves and his keys out of his pocket before putting them on. With a twist of his key, the bike comes to life with a loud roar, and you somehow grip him tighter. He wishes you could see the blush he has going on right now. It’s worthy of a few lines of humiliation you like to throw at him whenever he’s feeling flustered by you. 

“You ready?” He double checks.

You take a deep breath, telling him yes, which prompts him to lean the bike to the side and kick up the kickstand. He leans forward a little, and you move with him. With a flick of his wrist, you’re moving with him on his bike.

You feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins. The bike is moving! You’re gripping his t-shirt, probably some of his skin underneath, too, holding on for dear life like he instructed. 

“Kook!” You inhale, weary of the already fast approaching speed. Little do you know he’s barely made it to the local street speed limit.

“Trust me,” he tells you surely.

Looking at the sureness of his hands on the steering, the steadiness of his pace, you decide it’s time you really do. This is Jungkook. He wouldn’t let you backpack unless he knew he was sure enough to handle you as one, unless he knew you’d be safe with him as a rider. He’s been training for this moment. Never proposing the idea until recently, and you knew it was because he finally felt ready to be trusted with your safety.

You’re still a little nervous, but you’ve transferred most of that into your arms and hands. You hold onto him, wrapping your arms fully around his waist, leaning into his back as you let him guide you through the night. He’s guided you through many things in life. Your first tattoo, your first New Years kiss. Your first true love. You trust him with your soul. You love him with all of it, too.

Under his helmet, Jungkook smiles with content when you wrap your hands around him. You’re trusting him. He feels the weight of responsibility. But moreover, the excitement of showing you something he loves. Of showing someone he loves something he loves to do. Riding through the night with wind going against him. The motor of his bike propelling him forward as he rides under the stars. How he’s dreamed of taking you on one of his joyrides. Something in him knew you would like it. 

He goes faster, not daring to enter the highway on your first ride without your permission. But he goes through the local roads, hitting the exact speed of the speed limit given to him. Not going a unit over the number on the signs. You giggle when you realize, knowing the boy you hold onto usually does go a little over, even in the car. But the fact fills you with warmth that he wouldn’t dare play games with speed right now. Not with you on his back. 

After a certain point, you reach a red light, and he puts a foot on the ground to stabilize the bike at the stop.

“How do you like it?” He turns his head slightly to check in with you.

“I love it,” you smile. “I love you.”

His big heart skips, and he looks back at the time on the cross walk to see if he has enough time to kiss you silly from your confession. But you give him no time.

“You can go faster,” you scooch closer to him.

“You sure?” He looks back at you again. The red reflection of the light still beams on his helmet.

You nod. “Take me on the highway, Kook.”

Suddenly, the light turns green.

“Okay,” he shakes his head in disbelief. A small laugh erupts through his chest. When did you get so dauntless? “Better hold on, then.”

You squeal, doing as he says when he accelerates forward. He’s faster this time, still stable and not at all reckless. But the wind catches your clothes enough to know he’s going to do as promised.

The laughs that erupt from your body when he hits the highway is enough to solidify that he’s so totally going to kiss you so silly tonight. Maybe all night, if you’ll let him. 

He stays in the slow lane, going the minimum speed the highway gives, and yet you’re screaming joy and laughing relief out of your lungs as he guides you through the night. Just you and your biker boyfriend.

You trust him enough to take one hand away, letting your fingertips feel the wind of this summer night. But it’s interrupted after a while when Jungkook’s hand returns your own his waist. He pats the top of your palm a few times, telling you to behave, and you do. You hold him tighter, if that’s possible. Scooching closer to him as he finishes the ride off the highway.

The streets start to look familiar, the houses and street names ringing bells in your head. You’re sad to end the ride, honestly. Especially when he pulls up to his townhome, sliding into the parking spot right in front of it all a little too soon.

With steady hands, you sit up from your leaned position, still holding his waist, as he turns off the bike. Jungkook pulls off his helmet, brown messy hair falling around his ears from the release of the protective gear. There’s a bit of sweat forming at the base of his hairline, and you almost went to kiss it if it weren’t for your helmet. Before you can take it off, the man is already standing up, positioning himself in front of you to pull it off himself. You swing your leg around the bike, leaning your feet against the pavement as you stay seated. He stares down at you, tall and handsome as he awaits your approval.

“Well?” He tugs his lips upward. The piercings on his eyebrow dance as he raises it.

“I loved it,” you candor. “I kind of want to suck your cock right now.”

He laughs, crinkled nose and all. That nose nudges with yours when he kisses you. It’s slower than the pecks from before, when he was coaxing you into the joyride with him.

“That much?” He laughs. Those rough hands of his help you stand, the reminder of chest against yours only makes your heart flutter more. “Should have taken you sooner, then.”

“It was perfect, Kook,” you hold his jaw. “I really loved it.”

He looks at the stars in your eyes. The overwhelming presence of you in his biker jacket, holding his spare helmet in one hand and his jaw in the other. God, could you be any more perfect? He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

So he leans into you, holding the back of your neck as he sears his lips onto yours. He’s still cherry flavored, and you can taste it surely when he dips his tongue into your mouth. You envelope it warmly, kissing him with all the love you have. Except you wish you could feel more of him, have his skin against yours. You want the hand that holds his helmet to hold your waist. For your own hand that holds his spare to run through his hair. You want to be on his lap, to look at him from above, sweaty hair and brown eyes. 

He seems to read your mind, detaching your lips only slightly when he whispers against them, “Do you want to go in?”

You nod, watching him smile knowingly. It’s one of those smiles he gives when he’s shy, when he feels bashful and is receiving more attention than he’s used to. It’s one of his cutest smiles to-date. The desire to jump his bones is stronger than it’s been all night.

You follow him as he walks up to the door. He takes your helmet from his hand and balances it on his finger like he does with his own. The key turns, and the smell of his apartment fills your lungs. It smells like him. Like man, but better. A strange thing to think about, as you never associated “man” with smelling good. But he does, somehow. He smells like home. 

You follow in suit, taking your shoes off as he does the same when hooking your helmets on his biking rack next to his door. You lock it for him, and he smiles back at you in a quick thanks.

Quickly, you tread in front of him, becoming taller as you leave him in the shoe divot in front of the door.

“So does this mean you’ll let me take you on a few of my joyrides, then?” he asks you.

“You can take me on all of them if you want to,” you promise.

He comes up to you, destroying the height confidence you had from before when he steps up from the shoe divot.

“I love you,” he cups your jaw with both of his hands this time. Puffy lips connect with yours, they’re hot and slightly damp, firmly kissing you. Passion presses your back against the wall, his frame engulfing your body in love and lust as he kisses you. You can only return the favor, sliding your hands up his clothed chest. He breaks his grasp on your jaw when your hands slide around his neck, prompting him to replace his hands underneath your thighs instead. With no effort at all, as if you weigh a feather in his strong arms, he lifts you around his waist.

The new angle allows you to kiss him deeper, your hand securing around his neck and shoulder. Big hands hold your waist and back. He walks with you, messing around through his apartment, taking you to his bedroom by pure muscle memory as he’s too distracted by the smell your clothes against his skin to focus on anything else. 

For a second, his hand leaves your back to push open his door. The lamp on his bedside table is still on, something he forgot to turn off when he left to meet you at the diner with your friend and her date earlier.

Gently, almost as if you were made of glass, he lays you on his sheets. You still have his biker jacket on, and he swears it’s never looked better on anyone else.

“Biker looks good on you,” he says, admiring you from above.

“Want me to leave it on?” You suggest, an eyebrow raise up at him.

You visibly see his cheeks turn red, and you have your answer before he can even say it. 

“You don’t have to,” he denies. But you’re already sliding it off, taking your shirt and bra underneath before bringing the jacket over your shoulder again and zipping it up halfway.

He looks at you, bewildered and so terribly infatuated before he hides his face in his palm and groans. He’s so unbelievably flustered and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“You’re going to kill me, Y/n,” he muffles in his hand. 

You almost say something, but he’s already trapping your frame underneath his, searing his lips onto the skin of your neck. He bites and sucks at your skin, marking you in his purple and blue love bites. You can’t get enough, tilting your head for more, which he gladly gives you.

You pant lustfully in response when he hits your sweet spot. His lips are delicate at first when he comes across the territory he’s memorized so well. But you know better than to think that he’d stay that way. Not when he knows how it causes you to slide your hands in his hair and pull at his scalp in the way he likes best. Not when he knows you’ll react with the breathy moans he loves so much that flow from your lips at the slightest kiss. So he does just that, feeling your back arch into his chest and your fingers tangle in his hair when he plays with your pleasure. 

“Jungkook,” you flutter. His lips feel so good, like they were made to make you feel like this. 

He kisses down your neck, coming to the base of the zipper you left done halfway up the jacket. Slowly, he unzips it, watching the fabric part ways as gravity takes it to the sides of the bed. The jacket doesn’t completely reveal your breasts though, so he takes matters into his own hands and cups them from underneath.

His stare makes you feel shy, and you inhale sharply when his thumbs brush over your nipples slightly. The reaction makes you even more shy, and you cover your mouth with the back of your hand to hide the small moans that leave your mouth.

“So pretty,” he looks up at you. 

You tug at the rim of his t-shirt, begging him to take it off as you lay open chested below him. He only chuckles at the realization, seeing that he’s still fully clothed, way too preoccupied with you to take care of himself.

He does as you ask and more, tugging off his t-shirt and his jeans, leaving him in only his boxers. You feel a wave of slick come through your panties at the sight. Tattoos and muscles stare back at you. You try to ignore the halfy he’s sporting in his boxers, a pure reminder of the activities you wanted to give to him as a thank you for taking you for a ride on his bike.

But he’s quick to turn you down when you sit up to do just that, hiking his fingers under your pants and sliding them down along with your underwear. He throws them somewhere on his floor, falling to his knees to admire you.

“Oh honey,” he marvels at the sight, sliding a slender finger gently up your folds. “You’re soaked.”

You whimper against the back of your hand.

“I-I wanted to suck you off,” you protest, placing a hand on his wrist. Not because you necessarily want him to stop, but because you were scared about how good his touch feels already. “As a thank you.”

“What for, baby?” He stops playing with you, his spare hand cups your thigh. Soothingly, his thumb rubs against your skin, waiting for your answer. 

“For letting me ride with you,” you respond.

“You don’t need me to thank me for that, sweetheart,” he smiles gently. “I’d allow you to ride with me any time you want. I need to thank you for trusting me enough to want to,” he takes your hand in his. Those big doe eyes capture yours, asking for permission with stars in his eyes. “Will you let me?”

Fuck, will this man be the end of you. Of course you will, you’re basically leaking infront of his face.

You nod, and he shyly smiles again. The hand that had previously slipped up your folds springs to life again. This time, it circles your entrance gently, causing you to whimper into your skin. Hot lips envelope your clit, his tongue playing with you softly.

“K-Kook,” you gasp at the feeling. He only hums, his eyes closing when he applies more pressure into your leaking heat. The vibrations from his moans against your clit cause you to arch your back, your head falling back against the sheets when his fingers play in tandem with his tongue. They tempt over your cunt, circling your hole and gathering your juices just enough to make you go crazy.

He detaches his mouth for a brief moment, his lips covered in your heat, red with lust, as he watches you squirm when he replaces his thumb with his tongue over your clit. His mouth always does wonders, but something about his thumb against that ball of nerves makes you clutch onto your orgasm for dear life. It’s firm against you, not too harsh, but just enough to make you feel all of it when he circles it slowly underneath his thumb. Jungkook pulls your hips closer to the edge of the bed, completely in control as you let him thank you. He watches you carefully as he inserts a finger into your aching pussy, seeing how you gasp and grab onto his wrist. But he’s stronger than you, and you’re fully aware of that. You also don’t want him to stop—your grasping onto him a mere reaction for support.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He asks you. He’s so gentle, always so cautious at first. You know at one point he’ll become a sex demon and ram you into the sheets. But he’s being a sweetheart right now, wanting to coax an orgasm or two out of you first. He does it right.

“Mhm,” you solidify. Your answer is weak, too taken over by the sliding of his finger against your walls. 

“Do you want my mouth?” He asks. You know he’s asking permission, well too aware that the combo is a recipe for an orgasm.

“Y-yes, please,” you give it to him.

He chuckles at your polite response, although it takes over his desire in ways that he’s struggling to control. You’re just so sweet to him, always so perfect in every way. He couldn’t ask for anything more. You’re perfect. And you’re his. 

He replaces his thumb with his mouth again, this time moving faster than before. His pace quickens, and he adds another finger to your dripping cunt. The feeling makes you dig your fingers into his hair, pressing him against your pussy. It gets him high, moaning against your cunt shyly as he curls his fingers against your g-spot.

“Jungkook, m’ gonna cum,” you whine into air. Both your hands secure his head on your mound, as if he’d leave before you finish.

He feels you clench around his fingers, so damn tight his cock twitches in his boxers embarrassingly. But he ignores it, taking his mouth off your cunt to give you his thumb again. The change makes you arch your back, the coil in your tummy slowly unraveling beneath him.

“There you go,” he coaxes you. “Good girl.” 

You gush at the nickname. White heat flows around his fingers, and he replaces them with his tongue as you finish against his lips. The sensation is almost too much, your over sensitivity making you whimper and close your thighs around his head to stop him.

“K-Koo,” you whine. “Sensitive.”

He finishes up at your request, swallowing your release sweetly. He leaves you gently to stand up, tossing his boxers somewhere on the floor. You’re left to catch your breath, an arm over your eyes as you gasp into the air of his bedroom. Only when you feel his familiar frame tower over you again do you look up. You’re met with a sweaty man with wet lips and a lovestuck smile plastered on his features.

“You okay?” He kisses your forehead.

“Mm,” is all you have the strength to say.

You feel his thumb pry your mouth open.

“Open for me,” he asks you anyways. You mewl when you see him gathering spit in his mouth. He transfers it to you rudely, and you feel you might just cum again from the sheer force of it. He’s so hot, you feel overwhelmed.

You feel it enough to gain the strength to flip him over when he’s off guard, straddling his hips with his biker jacket on your shoulders.

“What’s this?” He grabs your waist. God, you look so good in his clothes.

“Let me give you a ride this time, Kookie,” you suggest.

He swears he’s never heard anything hotter in his life. It makes his dick leak with precum, your suggestion paired with his favorite girl in his favorite jacket ontop of him.

Your soft hands lay on his chest for support as you lift up your hips. He helps you, grabbing your waist with his big hands. You grab his cock, so big and just for you, lining it up with your wet cunt. You slide it in with a small gasp of your lips, and you swear you see his eyes roll back slightly at the feeling.

“Oh,” you softly gasp as he fills you up. The stretch is so good from this angle, filling every inch of your walls up to the brim. You feel all of him, and he can feel all of you, too. You know it with the way he grips your hips, telling you to give him a minute when you reach the base.

You give him just that, before you test the waters again and start a pace. 

“Fuck,” he tilts his head back. You riding him is an entirely different sensation, his thighs slack and your ass bouncing on his cock as you use him for pleasure. You feel so good, you always feel so good. So perfect for him. 

“Koo,” you mewl as your hands plant for support just below his rib cage. Your hips move perfectly, bouncing on his cock like it’s your day job. It’s exhausting, but it feels too good to stop. You won’t until it’s too much, until you can’t do it anymore.

You see why Jungkook likes to be on top most the time. The view from this angle is sickening. You see the sweat coming down from his scalp and neck. It begs to make entry into his forehead, and you hope at one point it does. Brown hair flops and lays over his skin and the sheets blow him. His Adams apple bobs every time he moans and swallows. You see every scar, mole, and blush this man presents to you. You feel entirely privileged that he is all yours.

He catches you staring, his big hands that you love so much cup your thighs on either side of his hips.

You feel sweaty in his jacket, already knowing it probably smells like sex and sweat already. You feel flush from the heat, and he seems to take note, coming up to hug around your waist with one arm and push off the jacket with the other. His legs dangle over the edge of the bed, supporting you on his lap as the jacket falls to the floor.

“So pretty,” he hums against your lips. His cock throbs inside of you, and you beg for friction, pushing your knees against the mattress and sliding up and down ontop of him again. “You like this, huh? You like fucking my cock?”

“Yes,” you whine against his neck. You feel like a horny teenager, unable to get enough of the man beneath you.

“So needy, baby,” he helps your pace with his hands on your hips. It’s quicker, making you dig your fingers into his scalp as you moan against his neck. “You like riding me? Tell me which one you like to ride more, my bike or my cock. Hm?”

“Y-You,” you respond almost immediately. But he doesn’t seem to like your answer, his hand landing a harsh slap against your ass that causes you to dig your nails into his shoulder.

“I can’t hear you, baby,” he kisses your neck.

You somehow muster the strength to face him again, your hips changing direction slightly to rock back and forth against him. It makes your cheeks feel numb and your fingers tingly, his dick pressing against your g-spot so delicately.

You nudge your nose against his, his cherry flavored lips ever so slightly touching yours.

“You,” you repeat. “I like to ride you more than anything.”

That seems to do it for him, your short ride of dominance ended as his lips take you over. He kisses you until he’s got you in your back again, his body obsessed with your own.

“So perfect for me,” he kisses you. “Let me fuck you good, yeah? My perfect baby.”

You can only nod, ready to come back to your throne as pillow princess. Your boyfriend takes your thighs, hiking them up around his back before he rams into you.

He fucks you like he’s in heat, needy and overwhelmed. His tip hits you in all the right places, causing you to arch your back into his chest. You scratch at his tattoos, chanting his name against his neck as he makes you feel good over and over again.

“J-Jungkook,” you gasp. You try to say your words, but you’re hit with euphoria with every thrust he delivers into your body. “Koo, I-“

“I know, baby,” he shushes you, a kiss to your cheek. “Just cum for me, hm?” He suggests.

“C-Close,” you tell him. The man seems to know your body more than you know it yourself, his lips reattaching to your sweet spot so delicately, it doesn’t match up at all with the way his hips piston into you. “Jungkook,” you gasp when he sucks there. The familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach returns, and you feel warm throughout your entire body.

With his hair in your face, lips on your neck, and hands caging your body beneath his, you tighten around his cock, unraveling for the second time underneath the man above you.

You feel him twitch, knowing he’s not that far behind you. He moans so sweetly against your neck when you tighten around him, his hips losing rhythm as you cum on his dick.

“Sso tight,” he groans against your neck. “I-Is inside okay?”

“Y-Yes,” you sigh against his ear. You’re so fucked out, so obsessed with him. You really don’t know if there’s a request out of his cherry lips you can deny.

“Oh, ah—“ he grips the sheets, balling them up in his fists. “M’ gonna cum.”

You simply run your hand through his hair, gripping it strongly as he thrusts harshly inside you. It overstimulates you, and you pant his name against his scalp as his seed spills out of you in hot, thick ropes. His moans are like music to your ears. So breathy and sweet. You swear you’ve never heard anything more lovely in your life.

The two of you calm down, your sweaty bodies absolutely filthy with summer night air, the smell of motorcycle exhaust, sex, sweat, and cum. It starts to make you cringe after a while. Ever the attentive one, your boyfriend notices and comes up from his place by your neck.

He gives you a soft smile before pecking your lips gently.

“I’ll start the shower,” he offers, pecking your lips again.

You let him leave you for a few seconds. Feeling cold and bare, you get up and search for your clothes. But you’re unable to find them, probably kicked somewhere underneath the bed. You only see Jungkook’s t-shirt and his jacket from before. So you slide the t-shirt over your head, feeling giddy again with the smell of him engulfing your senses.

With sore legs and an aching core, you walk over to the bathroom, hugging your man from behind like you did on his bike just an hour ago.

“This is my favorite part,” you start, holding him tighter.

“Hugging me?” He asks.

“Mhm,” you confirm.

You feel him laugh a bit in your arms, turning around in them only to poke at your frown.

“I like to hold you close. Especially when you go fast suddenly and I get a little scared,” you look up at him.

The shower mist fills up the mirror, and the heat lulls you into the feeling of sleepiness his aftercare always gives you.

“I never want to scare you,” he kisses your forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you lean into his palm, his hand holding your face close as he kisses your swollen lips softly.

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up,” he cups your hips.

You open your eyes, watching him eye the shirt you’re wearing.

“Seriously, baby, you gotta stop wearing my clothes,” he slides his t-shirt over your head. “It’s doing things to me.”

“Maybe tomorrow I’ll wear your biker suit then,” you wiggle your eyebrows.

“Now that would murder me.”

***

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2024]

[0oolookitsme]

Piece of His Heart

Hii everyone, I'm back from my long hiatus!! Hope you missed me because boy did I miss YOU! <3 This one is a little emotional, a little sweet, and VERY Harry focused. Also, I was inspired to write this piece while listening to 'London's Song' by Matt Hartke, and trust me, it's a lovely song. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Verse - Artist!Harry x Photographer!Y/n

Word Count - 1.0k

Warnings - Mentions of unplanned pregnancy, financial stress.

Harry and Y/n were students, and now, parents to a newborn babygirl as well. With all of the newfound emotions rushing through them, one thing he knew was that they were going to build this new little family slowly, and lovingly.

Harry looked up at the ceiling, at the overused fan moving slowly and creakily, with one of his arms under his head while the other one remained draped over his little baby's back. 

She was curled up on top of him, breathing softly, her little hands fisting his shirt. 

Daylight was pouring into the room through the gap between the two curtains, and Harry still couldn't believe that the little one sleeping away on his chest was finally here, after a worthwhile wait of a full nine months.

He still remembers the nickname he'd given her while she was still inside her mum's belly – 'Pumpkin' he had called her, and her little frame couldn't have agreed more with him. 

Full and round cheeks hung a little low on her face, her small mouth in a pout and eyes as circular as pearls, nothing if not the true meaning of grace.

Which is why he'd settled with the name 'Opal', grinning widely while Y/n had nodded furiously with tears in her eyes, saying how it was the perfect name ever.

His mornings suddenly became impossibly sweeter, something he hadn't expected since he had moved back in this childhood home with Y/n.

A few days ago, when he had laid his eyes on the bundle of sunshine for the very first time ever, a huge piece of his heart, if not his entire heart, had been taken right then and there. 

Sighing, Harry got up very carefully, wary of waking up the newborn and then, when he successfully hadn't, laid her on the two person size sofa – all that he could fit in the name of a seat inside his small art studio. 

He had just turned to get back to his awaiting Canvas, when Opal began mumbling. She was talking in her sleep, he realised with a smile growing on his face, making his dimples show up. 

Another piece of his heart was taken then. 

He wondered, each time that she slept, about just what she was dreaming up. On nights, he worried if she wasn't warm enough, wanted her to know that there was a blanket of stars above her – but he knew he could wait until she began talking to do that. 

Even though he couldn't afford the best, he was going to make this work. He was going to be the best father out there, give Opal all of his love, all with Y/n by his side.

Putting back down the paintbrush he had picked up because he couldn't stop thinking of her, Harry walked back over with his stool to sit and watch her. He crossed over the chair, his front against the chair's backrest as he rested his face on his arms, gazing down with a soft smile on his mouth. 

"I can't wait for you to grow up so that we can talk, you know? So, hopefully, you can tell me if this is where you'll always wanna be," he spoke, brushing away the unruly mop curls on her head. 

"And we can go to a place where you look at the light and it splinters," he sighed, moving to cover her up with a blanket. "Where there's plenty of gas in our car to last us the cold, cold winter," tears glazed over his sight, sniffling as he looked at her small figure lull to side as she slept – he almost let slip a chuckle. 

Right then, she took whatever pieces were left of his heart. 

Winter this year wasn't easy, but that wasn't to say that it wasn't the best one aside from the ones he had spent with Y/n. So much financial stress had come with the unplanned pregnancy, and now a baby. But he knew that the both of them could pull through the loans and make it out as a happy and healthy family, if they stuck together. 

Y/n’s dad, a single father, was a little bit bitter about the whole situation but had begrudgingly stepped forward to help out the two with handling the house, seeing as the both of them had to attend college as well as take care of the baby. He dropped off the groceries last weekend, along with the last minute new-born-baby stuff that Y/n had told him they needed. 

Even Anne stepped forward, letting the two of them borrow a room in her house for as long as they needed – likely until they could get back up on their own feet financially.

Currently, as Harry sat feeling overwhelmed with all of the love and other emotions rushing through him, he could hear Anne talking to Y/n down the hall. The walls weren’t the thickest and he could tell that Anne was sharing her own stories with Y/n, telling her about how she’d had Harry at a young age, and more. 

He’d heard it before, had even seen the two of them having this chat. So he knew that Anne, very likely, had Y/n’s head in her lap and brushing her hands through her hair, trying to console the woman high on hormones and the insurmountable number of emotions she must be feeling. 

Wiping away at his nose with the sleeve of his flannel, Harry blinked away the tears and pulled up a smile on his face again, trying to be courageous, for Y/n and their daughter. Because he knew that Y/n was doing the same for them. For the little family they were both going to build slowly and lovingly now.

"But I also want you to be this little forever, so that I can cherish you enough, yes?" He asked her, nodding his head when she mumbled something incoherent, something similar to ‘we’ll be fine, dada', Harry wanted to believe. 

And unable to help himself, he picked her up again, holding her flush against his exposed torso because he didn’t have the energy to button up his shirt and the skin to skin contact made breathing a little easier. 

"I'll love you tenderly," he whispered, pressing a kiss on her forehead. "I'll love you forever, and more, little pumpkin." 

[binch-i-might-be]

you know lately I've been thinking about the Trust 'Verse AU. where they get to be a family..... and how different Alex's second pregnancy is from the first one

both of them being ready and prepared! actively trying for and wanting a baby! no tears and no pain and no separation.....

Alex getting all excited when he starts suspecting he's pregnant. trying to be chill and not rush to tell John because hey, he could be wrong!

but then he isn't wrong and he gets to take John's hands and tell him they're having a baby, and he can't stop smiling, and neither can John! there's no devastation this time. nothing but love and joy.

John kisses him and kisses him and they're so giggly and happy and in love. they get to tell Alex's parents together and then they get to cuddle Ellie and watch her little face light up when they tell her she'll be an older sister.

and John can't keep his hands off of Alex's belly even before he starts showing. because that's their baby in there! and he didn't get to be there the first time so he'll be damned to miss even a moment now.