#I woke up one morning and it’s not there and then I got into the habit of not looking up bc that’s a lot of work and I have to keep paintin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

reignpage · 2 days ago

Text

Physics Tutor!Nanami

Law of Love: following the stars across the universe to you

Content: final chapter of the pre-relationship arc, fluff and smut, 18+ mdni, not proofread Word Count: 6.1k Guide

Nanami Kento is a man of science.

Always has been, likely always will be.

Everything is measured, from his coffee (exactly one and a half tablespoon of coffee grinds and three hundred millilitres of hot water, no sugar, straight off the boil), to the temperature of his shower (thirty-eight degrees) and even to the number of steps it takes to get from his shared apartment to his Monday morning lecture hall (one thousand, six hundred, and seventy eight usually).

So, it would be no surprise to anyone that he’s counting down the seconds till the clock strikes five on a Saturday afternoon, phone in one hand in case you get lost, or universe forbid, bailed, and coffee in the other.

He should have done this a long time ago, should have invited you here, or invited himself over to your place, anything to get you alone. No, not in a creepy way. He just wants to talk, to get everything out in the open, to fix things.

After an embarrassing night of drinking more alcohol than he really should have, he resolved to send you a message imploring you to come to the Eden Observatory. Nanami isn’t exactly sure why he chose this place of all places — a girl like you should be taken somewhere fancy, like a five star restaurant, dazzled on an ice rink, or led through a mall and told to choose anything and everything you want.

Palms sweaty, he wipes them on his slacks. That’s another thing. He hasn’t opted to wear something cooler. Dressed in a plain, clunky sweater and overly formal trousers, he groans inwardly and regrets not having taken Haibara up on his offer to wear some of his hoodies and jeans.

He can still picture his roommate’s lopsided grin and the enthusiastic thumbs up he gave which only made Nanami furrow his brows, feeling oddly like a child being dropped off at their first day of school.

With the sun setting, he stands in front of the doors, fiddling with the keys, and waits rather impatiently. He’s booked it for the evening so there won’t be distractions. It’ll just be you and him and all the things left unsaid.

A smile flutters on his lips.

You came.

You emerged from your car, a hot pink mini, and are walking up to him with a sway in your hips that is distracting him from the frown on your glossy lips. Dressed in a denim mini skirt and a thin sweater sloping off one shoulder, he wonders if you’re cold. It might not be full blown winter yet but it’s the kind of weather people usually sigh at.

“That coffee better be for me because I desperately need it.”

“Is that so?” He hands you the coffee, a caramel frappe so sickeningly sweet he feels a toothache coming from just looking at it. You take it from him with manicured hands and pat his chest in a thank you, eyeing your surroundings.

Rambling, you inform him, “I woke up at seven today. Seven, Kento! Like, actually seven. Why, you ask? Well, because I wanted to make sure I didn’t oversleep. Which is stupid because our meeting’s at five pm so I’m not really sure where I got the idea that I could somehow sleep through it from. And, like, I didn’t even sleep at all last night.”

“Oh, dear. That’s terrible.” Truthfully, Kento could tell you’re frazzled this afternoon; there are bags under your eyes and there’s a slight quiver in your hands. He’s clearly not the only one nervous. Strangely, that does nothing to soothe that ache in his chest.

“And like, I really shouldn’t be here, y’know? It’s not smart, even my sister said so. But here I am anyways. Because apparently, I can’t get enough of sexy, blond nerds.”

Kento smiles, feeling content to stand outside, alone with you forever. The sun is peeking through the clouds, shining a warm beam on your face. You’re glowing.

It’s the kind of scene a scientist gains nothing from seeing; it only highlights the daunting reality that there are mysteries in the world that will never be solved in one’s lifetime and can only be theorised, like a black hole. It’s all consuming, a rare and magnificent sight to behold, but one mustn’t dare get too close for once they cross it, they might never return.

But your pull is so strong he just can’t help himself.

“You were totally a pain in the ass last night, y’know?” You mutter, casually checking the chips in your nail polish. You’re just saying whatever comes to mind now.

He grimaces. He remembers everything and gosh did he wish he didn’t. “I’m sorry for having been a bother.”

“It’s alright. God knows I’ve bothered you more often and far worse.”

Nanami wants to argue. He wants to say you’ve never bothered him, never once irritated him, but there’s nothing he could say to erase all those words he had spoken and wished he could erase. So, instead, he pulls open the door and offers his hand to lead you in.

Immediately he regrets that. Why would you need his hand to cross through a doorway? Did he not get the memo that you’re living in the twenty-first century?

Despite the twitch of his fingers, you give him a knowing smile before you grant him some mercy. Your hand is soft. So very soft. It feels light in his, and he worries that if he holds you too tight, he’ll break you like a beaker. Faint memories from last night come back to him, reminding him this isn’t the first time he’s held your hand. And he hopes it won’t be the last.

“What are we doing here anyways? When you asked me to give you the opportunity to talk, I thought you meant in a cafe, or in your place. In fact, I was kind of hoping it’ll be in your place.”

He leads you through the grand foyer, the shiny marble floors perfectly polished despite the day guests. “I was hoping this would be somewhat like a date.”

“A date?” You screech. “Nanami, you didn’t tell me this was a date!”

“What difference does it make?” It sounds rhetorical, but you know better. He’s pleading, genuinely asking if making his intentions clear from the beginning would have made this outcome different, if you wouldn’t have come, and he would have been left wondering ‘what if’ for the rest of his life.

Instinctively pulling your hand, you stumble into his chest when he doesn’t budge, doesn’t let go. Face burying between his pecs, you’re practically smothered in his hard body and his clean, musky scent. It’s so easy to forget that Nanami Kento, being a nerd and all, is actually an elite member of the List for a reason.

Your classmate isn’t like all the boys you’re surrounded by in frat parties. He isn’t a boy at all. The strength he carries in every limb and muscle reminds you of all the things he could do to you, of all the things you want him to do to you.

He doesn’t push you away and you don’t make an effort to leave. Instead, he takes your frappe from your hand, worried that it’s dangerously close to tipping over onto your clothes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it was a date. I didn’t mean to trick you. And well, it doesn’t have to be one if you don’t want it to be. But I’d like for it to be a date. Our first date.”

“But why would you want to date me? Haven’t I been horrible?”

Nanami feels something break inside. He likens it to the feeling one gets when they receive an anomalous result which throws off their entire research. Sighing, he attempts to nudge you so he can see your face but you only bury yourself in his chest further. He waddles you both over inside the double doors on the right with some difficulty, bringing the straw of your drink to your lips when you lift your head.

“You haven’t been horrible. Not at all. In fact, I fear I’ve been horrible.”

“No! You’ve been great. Brilliant, even. You could never be horrible.”

He shakes his head. “I snapped at you that night. I jumped to conclusion and acted irrationally and emotionally. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no. I was wrong for lying to you and luring you to the party. I was wrong for teasing you this entire time. It’s so mean and so stupid and I hate myself for it. But I just really liked you. You have the best reactions and I wanted to see them all. And it’s all just so stupid. Ugh, I’m sorry.”

A blush is rising up his cheeks. It’s clear neither of you are going to relent. Maybe you’re both to blame for the unnecessary back and forth, for this farce that eluded you in some cruel twist of fate. Maybe it’s neither of you. Maybe none of it matters. Not anymore. Not when you’re here, not when you came and you’re looking up at him like he’s…something.

That trusting, longing expression on your face threatens to sweep his legs out from under him. He feels like he’s suspended in air, free diving with the ground nowhere in sight, and judging by the way his fingers twitch, seeking to touch your softness, he suspects he’s been falling for eternity.

“Don’t apologise,” he finds the courage to breathe out, “Not anymore. Let’s just enjoy what I’ve got planned.”

You beam, eyes darting to what’s behind him, the conversation already forgotten. Marvelling at the hall you didn’t even realise you entered, you pull away from him and spin around, trying to catch sight of everything.

He’s led you to the planetarium. Having spent many hours doing demonstrations and lectures here to tourists, students on school trips, and for birthday parties, it was the only place he could think of that might impress you. And though he was worried you’d find this lacking compared to your other potential experiences, those fears vanish the moment your eyes fall on his again and a huge smile is pulling at your lips.

“Ken! This place is beautiful.”

Nanami gulps.

You just called him by his first name. No, by a nickname. Like before. Like how you used to. And he feels his knees wobble a little. Not even his family calls him by a nickname, and admittedly, he’s never been fond of people taking creative initiative on his name but he likes it when it comes from your lips. He’d consider changing his name to ‘Ken’ permanently if it means you’ll call him that forever.

"Can you believe I've never been here before? That's actually like so crazy."

Space is projected above both of your heads, countless stars twinkling in the abyss, forming constellations and glittering around planets and galaxies. Ever so slowly, the picture moves, disappearing to the right and allowing more of the universe to be observed.

He’s so thankful he pleaded his case to his manager, the elderly man who owns the place, arguing that it’s for a special cause, to cheer up a friend, that it would be informative for their tutoring session. Mr. Tanaka insisted that it’d be too costly to shut down the observatory for even just an evening and for something so trivial.

However, when Nanami had said, ‘she’d really appreciate it’, Mr. Tanaka’s entire demeanour had shifted from grouchy old man, to giggling gossip.

“Oh, well why didn’t you say it was for your lady, Kento? Of course, you can lock up and bring her over. Show her around, really make her day. I’ll let you in on a little secret, old boy. That’s exactly how I wooed my wife. Oh, she was so overjoyed she could barely stop gasping. How glad am I that a kid as serious as you actually has an appetite!” Mr. Tanaka laughed heartily, and laughed even harder when Kento blushed.

Having thanked him profusely, Kento was just about to leave before Mr. Tanaka added, a wistful tone in his gravelly voice as he caressed a picture on his desk, “You have fun, alright, Kento? You enjoy every second of it. Don’t get lost in what the universe has to offer you when everything you could ever want is within arm’s reach already.”

Feeling somewhat unnerved by the sudden seriousness in the old man’s face, he could do nothing but listen, absorbing every drop of wisdom as if he’s being shown the key to the beyond of the conceivable universe.

And then, Mr. Tanaka smiled so brightly, the student almost missed the agony pulling his lips down.

“Because that’s the beauty of the stars, Kento. They twinkle for love.”

Seeing those very stars reflected in your huge, wondrous eyes and the way his heart stutters, Kento feels inclined to listen to the rambling, grumpy senior more often.

Sitting down onto the centre velvet seats, the coffee stands in the cupholder on the armchair separating the both of you. The seat’s are plenty spacious and they even recline. You both make yourself comfortable, looking up at the dancing stars.

“Oh, look! That’s Orion. I like him best because he’s fashionable,” you announce, pointing at the ceiling.

“Fashionable?”

Explaining like it’s obvious, you fix him a stare., “Because he has a belt, Ken.”

And who is he to argue with you?

Nanami had learnt that, though you’d much prefer to gain your information from him than anywhere else, there are some things he simply cannot change your mind on. One such example would be the great pancake versus waffle debate that had taken up almost forty-five minutes of one of your tutoring sessions.

You sincerely, with every ounce of your being, believed that waffles are better than pancakes. You insisted, pleaded, urged him to see your cause, but he wasn’t having any of it.

“That has no relevance to thermodynamics, y/n,” he had said with a deadpan tone. “And in any case, they are made of the same thing so I don’t understand what difference texture makes.”

“Can’t we just take a break from all the physics talk? I wanna chat and gossip.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This is hardly the appropriate setting.”

“So,” you elongated, “take me on a date and we can argue about it.”

Nanami didn’t understand why one would spend a date arguing something as trivial as waffles versus pancakes when they were both the same damn thing but he couldn’t bear to encourage you. Instead, he clasped his hand and gave you a look he hoped would convey his thoughts.

You only grinned at him toothily.

He gulped, then cleared his throat as he took his glasses off to wipe some invisible dirt. Opening the textbook at the correct page and slamming one thick half of it onto the table with more force that he had intended, he could only mutter, “I like waffles better too.”

“Aha!” You celebrated like a beautiful madwoman.

Watching you clap and boo at planets and galaxies with seemingly no rhyme or reason, his opinion of you doesn’t change. You are just as crazy as ever. Whether that was yesterday, a month ago, or two years before. You still shine brighter than any celestial body. And maybe you’ll continue to do so in the years that follow. He hopes he gets to see for himself.

Time passes as you two take turns highlighting asterisms and comets, discussing their history, their discovery and the next time they’ll pass again. Though he’s clearly the more knowledgeable of you two, you could give him a run for his money.

“Cassiopeia, easily distinguishable because of her signature ‘W’ shape, was a vain queen from Greek mythology, punished by the gods for her arrogance. Her stars sparkle as though still boasting her beauty,” Nanami rattles off, almost on autopilot, just like he had been trained.

“But because of the Earth’s rotation, her ‘W’ sometimes flips into an ‘M’, right? It’s almost as if the stars themselves are correcting her vanity.”

“That’s right.”

You’re more talkative than last night and he hypothesises it must be because you’re quiet when you drink. He was so nervous and out of place at the party he hadn’t even noticed just how much he resents not hearing your voice. Until now when he feels at bliss hearing your smooth cadence lull him to comfort.

Nanami prides himself in being a man of restraint. For many years, despite the girls who have twirled their hairs or pressed their arms next to his, his resolve to focus solely on academia had never wavered. Not once. His eyes never wandered up the legs of a woman or down their low tops, and he had never fantasised about much more than a cordial, research-based relationship with anyone.

However, in this very moment, encased in the darkness of the planetarium, his eyes are sliding over to your crossed legs, bare and smooth, the fats of your thighs pressing against each other. Occasionally, they also venture upwards where your breasts are squished together on top of your crossed arms, and up that slender neck, settling on your glossy lips.

He gulps.

Shuffling in his seat, he’s trying to ignore the sudden tightening in his trousers. But it’s so very difficult. Especially when your perfume invades his senses and your plump lips wrap around the straw of your drink and you make a slurping sound that sends shivers down his spine.

“W-whenever you’re ready, we can head to dinner,” he offers, attempting to distract himself with the next stage of his plans. “There’s a great place ran by a family friend who’ll make whatever you want, on and off menu. He’s truly a terrific chef and an even better man.

“Dinner sounds great and all. But Kento,” you begin with a hum, sparkling gaze shifting to him, “is there a reason you’re gripping the armrest like it owes you money?”

You’re teasing him again, he can tell. He’s grown painfully familiar with that saccharine tone your voice takes when you’ve got him in the palm of your hand.

The atmosphere has changed. The light and joyful air has evaporated and neither of you are laughing over how wrong those Ancient Greek philosophers were anymore. Instead you’re adding fuel to a fire he’s been trying to douse, lest he burns you with his impure thoughts.

Clearing his throat, he attempts to deny your accusations. “I’m not.”

“Oh, so now you’re lying to me with the stars as our witness, Ken? And what’s next? You’ll lie to me when I ask why you seem to have a situation right…over….here?”

Nanami is powerless against the gravity of your long nails scraping along his tensing thighs. It’s merciless and climbing higher and higher until he feels a rumble in his chest, and he finds himself gripping your wrist with his shaky hand and he’s hauling you over.

In a sudden turn of events, you find yourself straddling him, hands clutching his broad shoulders for purchase, whilst his own grab your waist. Nanami has no idea what came over him. Perhaps it was that animalistic urge that humans have yet to evolve past taking control for a second. Just as likely, it was the long buried desire to put you in your place.

“You tease too much,” he whispers, taking your hands, fingers skimming underneath the sleeves of your sweater to tickle the inside of your wrist, and lifting them to the metal frame of his glasses.

You pull it off and as you watch it dangle in your fingers, the glass reflecting the universe, he surprises you with his lips engulfing yours.

He kisses you, at first, like you’re fragile, like this moment is precarious and one wrong move could set it all off. But once the taste of you settles on his tongue, his resolve snaps altogether and he’s deepening it like he’s dreamed of doing for far longer than he’d care to admit.

Gasping, you allow him inside your mouth, tongues clashing and winding together. It’s a little messy, a little clumsy, but it’s making you hot all over. It’s the way he’s moving with no method, no rhythm, and instead, allowing himself to be guided purely by a desire to taste, to explore, and to consume you.

“Ken,” you moan into his mouth.

Nanami groans, digging his fingers into your waist, a pinkie tucking itself under the hem of your sweater, amazed by the softness he finds there. “You taste so sweet.”

You part from him to peck at his jaw, the stubble there eliciting a low whimper from you. With a giggle, you say, “That’s probably the coffee you got me.”

“Whatever it is, it’s delicious and I want more of it,” he growls. It’s a kind of noise he had never made before, didn’t even realise he was capable of making. A hand crawls up your back, embedding itself in your hair before it pulls your head back to crash against his lips again.

Your hips are grinding together and the hardness there is meeting your moistening panties perfectly. You hope you don’t make a mess on him but that worry is thrown far in the back of your mind when he bites into your bottom lip. Emboldened by his firm, wandering hands, you grab that cold thing beside you and make enough space to take a sip.

Kento is confused, dazed, but he can barely see without his glasses, and so, in the blur of it all he fails to see you’ve picked up your frappe until you kiss him again and something creamy and sugary tingles his tastebuds. His eyes roll back. Your tongues are mixing it up, really rubbing it in, and he sucks all that you’re willing to give him in desperate gulps.

Feeling your hard nipples poke him through your sweater and his, he bucks his hips up, nudging your clit and you both moan.

“S-stop,” he breathes out. “W-we can’t.”

Blinking furiously, you nod, pushing off but his arms cage you in, keeping you in his lap. ”Ken?”

“I’m sorry. I promise I want to. Really. But, I d-don’t…”

Picking up his forgotten glasses and sliding it back into place, you then cradle his face. His eyes meet yours clearly and he smiles sheepishly, feeling more vulnerable with it on. His lips are shiny with both the coffee and your liquid, you swipe with your thumb. “You don’t what?

“I don’t… I mean, I’ve never…”

“You’ve never been with a girl?”

Nanami nods, thoroughly embarrassed. There’s no way you’ll like him now. He’s ruined the mood. He came so close to having it all but he just had to go and destroy everything by revealing he is the stereotypical nerd and you’re way too good for him. He feels an urge to run, to hide and pretend none of this ever happened, that he hadn’t gotten too big for his boots and thought he could conquer a huge mountain and get to the peak with you.

You must be disgusted to have been touched by a loser like him. Maybe you already knew from the clumsy way he kisses or the shaking of his hands, and the way he seeks your gaze but cowers when you meet his.

Nanami Kento is a man of science and he should have stayed that way, should have never dared venture further than a man like him was ever meant to.

But when you smile at him, staring up through those long, fluttering lashes, he decides right there and then that he’s more than willing to submit to a higher power. For there is no probable way you were made by chance like he or anyone else was—you must have been sculpted by God himself, and sent down to tempt his honour, to humble his arrogance, and crumble the very foundations of his character.

And how gladly he’d let you.

“Kenny, you silly man. I don’t care about things like that. In fact,” you whisper conspiratorially and lean in close, nibbling on his ear, “I’m getting really wet from knowing that I’m going to be your first.”

He dies.

Right there and then, Nanami dies.

He feels his soul, of which he only discovered a second before, leave his body and ascend high into the celestial clouds, mingling with those stars that seem to twinkle harder as if amused by the dumbstruck look on his face.

Like something had completely changed in his DNA make up, he takes you by surprise and presses his palm against your soaked gusset. You jolt.

“You’re really wet.” He thumbs at that little bulge, watching the way your jaw drops. Piercing his body, your moans echo through his ribs, pounding against his heart and filling his veins with something far too addictive. “Does knowing that you’re the first girl I’ve ever kissed, ever wanted to taste here, and wanted to know how she feels inside turn you on?”

There’s no hint of playfulness in your voice any longer when you whimper a 'yeah, Ken', hips stuttering against the pressure of his palm cupping your heat in its entirety. He can’t fathom how someone like you could find someone like him attractive, and to this extent, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care enough to map out all possibilities and make hypotheses — he doesn’t want reason and logic and practicality.

Not now.

No, all Nanami wants is to know you, inside and out. So, he pulls your panties to the side, hands still shaking a little, and he groans at the disastrous sensation of your drenched core leaking onto his skin. There’s no technique to his touch; he’s just feeling you. There are folds and bumps he’s theoretically aware of but to touch in person is insanity.

Your face is making all sorts of expressions: brows furrow when he follows the seam of your lips, nose twitches when his finger teases at your quivering entrance, and your mouth parts when he bumps against your clit.

“Tell me how you like it,” he pleads. “Tell me how to make you feel good.”

‘Pitiful loser’ must be written all over his face because you smile. You smile and thrust your breasts in his face just as your fingers wrap around his and you guide him. Urging two fingers inside, you allow him to sink in slowly, observing using his tactile receptors the pulsing heat of your walls, the squishiness, the texture, and the way he’s gliding inside.

“Just touch me, Ken. Feel me. Get familiar because you’re going to make this your second home, okay?”

“Okay.”

He thrusts those fingers in, seeking that spot that’s supposed to make women gasp and writhe. The sounds coming from you are obscene and it’s making him delirious. You’re growing impossibly wetter, hips stuttering, grinding on his palm, and he’s watching everything.

Something about how hard he’s staring must make you uncomfortable because you laugh and slide your thumbs under his glasses, holding his lids close.

“Don’t stare so hard, Kenny, you look like you’re trying to work out an equation.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. And then you take off his glasses again, baring his face to this otherworldly dream, but when he opens his eyes, what he sees threatens to collapse his own world beneath him. You’re wearing his glasses, or at least he thinks so; his vision is blurry. How he hates his visual impairment more than he ever has before.

Pressing a kiss on his forehead just as you moan against his skin when he hits a good spot inside you, you shakily ask, “H-how do I look?”

“Beautiful,” he breathes out.

You laugh again and he throbs inside his trousers. Then, his vision is being obscured all together by your sweater — you’ve encased his head within and his face lies between your lovely breasts.

Nanami’s heart stops.

He swears it does.

“Play with them a little, won’t you, Kenny? I like my tits teased before I cum.”

He doesn’t know which part of what you just said is that final stake in his heart but he does as you say. He licks and sucks and nibbles, listening out for your moans and feeling for which makes you clench harder on his fingers. Nimble hand not slacking for a second, he rubs your clit with his thumb and prods that soft spot you seem to really like.

Never understanding men’s obsession with breasts, Kento is more than aware of the irony of the situation now that he’s moaning around your nipple, rolling it on his tongue. There have been so many Tuesday evenings spent watching these very same breasts press against the desk as you complain about all the worksheets he had prepared for you. So many walks along campus to get to his next class spent grumbling about how you really should wear a bra more often if you’re planning to jump around like that in front of those jocks.

But now, he has those very same breasts surrounding his face, threatening to suffocate him, and he thanks the heavens you didn’t wear a bra today.

“Oh, Ken, fuck!”

“Gosh, a-are you orgasming?” His words are muffled around your nipple and the vibrations seem to fuel you.

You giggle breathlessly, “It’s ‘cumming’, Ken. Can you -ha- say it for me?”

“Are you c-cumming?”

Through some sort of miracle, you eventually do cum on his fingers, and he hurriedly untangles himself from your sweater to observe the way your face crumples up in bliss, to see the way you flood his hand with your intoxicating cream, and how you’re spasming in his lap.

It’s all through the fog of his poor vision but the awareness that you’re cumming because of him, in his arms, wearing his glasses and fogging it up with your heady breaths pushes him over the edge just as your hand brushes against the bulge of his trousers.

“Oh, ngh! I’m s-sorry! Gosh! I'm so sorry.”

The bliss runs deep, filling his head with the scent of you, and for a second, through the haze, he swears his vision clears and you're magnificent face comes to him like a message from something divine. He might just cease being a man of science at this rate.

Panting, you slump against each other. The stars are still dancing above but neither of you pay attention. You’re simply taking deep breaths, trying to reorient yourself, and enjoy the warmth the other is radiating.

“For your first time fingering a girl, you were pretty good. Which I’m not surprised by — you’ve always been a quick learner, isn’t that right, Kento?”

“P-please don’t tease me.”

With his glasses sliding off your nose bridge, you kiss his lips in apology before you slot the frame back onto his face. He thanks you with an awkward pat of your pussy before he brings his fingers to his face.

“Isn’t it incredible how our body produces natural lubrication?”

Rolling your eyes you whisper against his stubbly jaw, “Don’t get all sciencey on me now, baby. We still have to talk about the fact that you came in your pants and I hadn’t even touched you.”

Nanami blushes. Hard. He’s humiliated himself in front of you once again. For a second there, he had genuinely believed his inexperience wouldn’t make a difference, that he’s not a teenager and he’ll pull through as a man by instinct alone if need be. How wrong he was.

“Hey, now. Don’t start thinking too hard. I wasn’t complaining. I actually thought it was really hot.”

Still eyeing the shiny string that forms between his fingers from your essence, he clears his throat and concedes, “If you say so.”

Silence passes by for a beat or two, and all Nanami can think about is how uncomfortable he feels with his cum drying in his boxers and he realises you must feel the same way. Just as he’s about to voice these concerns out, you meet his eye with a strange kind of twinkle.

“Wanna taste it?”

Before he can even ask what you could possibly mean, you’re already guiding his fingers back to your core and spreading your wetness all over his hand once more. Then, that wetness is being spread along his lips and he doesn’t disobey when he sucks them into his mouth.

The taste is strange. Not bad, but new and odd. It’s mostly tasteless but it is a little tangy, and sweet. And he is obsessed.

“How do I taste, Kenny?”

Nanami Kento is a man of science.

He isn’t a poet. He doesn’t mince his words, doesn’t use flowery language or muses about nature and the fragility of humanity. No, he says it like it is. The world exists in black and white, there are no greys, no rose tinted glasses hiding the truth from him. He is a man of fact and truth. No more, no less.

But with the exhilarating, inebriating, and electrifying taste of you flooding his tongue, he realises, every man is born a poet, and the world silences that visionary within. However, there comes a moment in every man's life where that poet is awakened and they see the world not as it is, but rather as it should be. They simply need a muse.

“Like a star,” Nanami rasps, completely and utterly weakened, defeated, and vanquished. “More. I w-want more.”

You chortle. “No, Ken. Not here. Some other time, okay? ‘Cause I’m actually really hungry now. But you’ve got a bit of a situation in your pants and you can’t easily hide it so maybe we should go over to your place and you can cook me up something instead?”

Liking the idea very much, he kisses you and lifts you up so you can both stand on your own two feet. The drying cum is proving to be a pain but it doesn’t bother him. Nothing does in this moment. Not the fact that he’ll have to sneak into the security office and get the CCTV footage deleted, or preferably sent to his phone and then deleted from the main system, not the thought of all the work he has yet to do in preparation for all his classes next week, and not even the knowledge that he’ll have to kick Haibara out for the night.

“Does this mean you and I are… well…” He trails off, unsure how to phrase it.

Giggling, you go on your tiptoes and peck his lips. “Yes, Ken. We’re dating. We’re exclusive. I’m your girlfriend and you’re my boyfriend. So that means I get to flirt with you all the time and you can’t pretend you don’t like it anymore.”

“That sounds like a fair deal. Will you come back to class? Let me tutor you again?”

“Wasn’t me coming here to begin with not answer enough, Ken? Of course, I’m coming back. Especially now that it means we can have secret sex during our tutoring sessions. Oh! Can we fuck in the library? I’ve always wanted to do that. And then you can tell me off for being too loud. Can we? I also really want to have sex in your car. Mine is a little too small but yours will work just fine. Oh! And maybe you can let me touch you in the lectures? We can sit at the back where no one can see us! You have to meet my sister. And my friends. And the rest of my family. Then I'll meet yours. Eek! I'm so excited. We'll go on dates every day, won't we? Oh, wouldn't that be so fun, Ken?”

Nanami gulps.

Stepping away from the world of science and into a world of you seems much more daunting now than ever. Maybe he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Maybe he’s not cut out for a life outside of academia. Maybe he won’t be able to keep up with your appetite. Maybe you'll drain him dry and leave him a husk of himself, which doesn't sound so bad if he's being completely honest.

Everything you said leaves him a little lightheaded at the thought and he can't fathom how he could possibly meet every one of your expectations.

But... he’s always been a fan of the trial-and-error method.

So, he supposes he’s just going to have to work it out like he always does. Because as you grin up at him, sweat making your skin slightly shiny, he can’t think of anything worse than disappointing you.

Smiling, he brushes a stray strand away from your cheek and lays a lithe kiss on your nose.

“Whatever you say, my little star.”

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk angst #nanami x reader #nanami smut #nanami fluff #nanami angst #Nanami Kento #jjk fic #nanami fic

499 notes · View notes

mariasont · 2 days ago

Note

hey girlie, first of all absolutely adore all of your hotchie fics no one writes him as well as you do!! second of all i am dying to read bimbo!assistant! x hotch smuuuutt (only if ur comfortable, pls ignore if not!!) i feel like that would be the only time hotch would have her completely and utterly speechless (idk why but i literally cannot get hotch w a breeding kink out of my goddamn mind!!!!!!) anyways hope ur having a fab day, and thank u for feeding us over the last few days 😘

Space Between Distraction & Indulgence - A.H

summary: bimbo!assistant!reader want’s aaron’s attention. aaron wants to finish his case notes. too bad for him, you always get what you want

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

warnings: 18+ MDNI, explicit stuff going on here, fingering, p in v, no condom (bc we trust hotch is responsible but you shouldn’t be), dirty talk, hotch is a boob man sorry not sorry, after care with a side of psychoanalysis bc he can’t help himself

wc: 6k (got a little carried away my b)

a/n: thank u sm for requesting ugh!!!! u all r going to give me a god complex if you keep talking about how i write hotch LOLOL i love u sm hope u like the fic!!

Saturdays with Aaron had a way of making time feel like something slippery and golden, something you could almost touch before it vanished between your fingers. The mornings stretched long and languid, a lazy kind of indulgence that should have felt endless, but somehow, with him, it never was.

You woke up late. Very late. The kind of late that made you blink at the clock in mild disbelief before flopping back against the pillows. And then there was the warmth. Not just the heat of the blankets, but something deeper, something winding low in your belly.

Oh. Right. The dream. You swallowed, biting your lip as if that might make the memory dissipate. It wasn't outright filthy, but it had been suggestive enough. Annoying. Frustrating. Embarrassing. It was the kind of thing that made you wish Aaron was still in bed.

He wasn't, of course. That would require Aaron Hotchner to do something reckless and irresponsible, like relax. If he wasn't keeping the country from total collapse, he was finding something equally as urgent to fix, probably buried in reports right now, coffee in hand, eyes scanning the page like national security depended on it. And maybe it did. You didn't know.

What you did know was that you'd been circling him all afternoon, orbiting like some needy little planet trapped in his gravitational pull, and he still hadn't acknowledged you. A small part of you—one you didn't want to name—had hoped he'd notice you by now. That he'd glance up, see you, reach for you. But he hadn't. And that was okay. Really. You weren't needy. You weren't desperate.

But you noticed him. You always noticed him. And this version of him, the weekend version, was particularly hard to ignore. The casual clothes, casual for him, anyway, stomped all over your ability to think straight (not that you had much to concentrate on in the first place).

The grey crewneck he had on stretched across his shoulders, molding to the shape of him like it had been made for him. His jeans, worn in all the right places, settled on his hips in a way that made you feel like a pervert just by looking.

Even his hair had you practically drooling. Not messy, of course—Aaron Hotchner didn't do messy—but it was softer than usual, a little mussed, like he'd dragged his fingers through it one too many times without bothering to fix it.

It made him look almost touchable, like someone who should have been stretched out next to you on the couch, letting you mess it up even more, not hunched over a pile of paperwork like the case files were going to disappear if he blinked.

His forearms flexed every time he turned a page, his muscles shifting subtly every time he moved. You didn't even realize how blatantly you were staring until his fingers skimmed up to his jaw, scratching absently at the stubble there. Because now all you could think about was how it would feel under your fingertips, under your lips, under—okay. Enough.

The magazine in your lap was technically open, fingers flipping through glossy pages filled with designer gowns and scandalous headlines. Normally, you'd be all over it, sipping coffee as you devoured the who wore what and who was caught with who. But today, you weren't really reading, you were just holding it, turning pages for the sake of it. Something to occupy your hands while you definitely didn't stare at Aaron.

He had started keeping these around after you mentioned, offhandedly, how much you loved them. You hadn't even meant it as a suggestion, but the next time you visited, there it was—sitting on the coffee table like it had always been there.

He hadn't spared you so much as a glance since you walked in—not even when you'd practically drifted past his desk, close enough that he should've felt you there. He had mumbled a good morning, sure, but his eyes never left the page, his attention locked onto whatever was in that file.

You sigh—loudly. Pointedly. The kind of exaggerated little huff that normally earns you at least a glance, maybe even a what's the matter, sweetheart? There was no reaction today. He just flipped another page, one hand smoothing over the text, the other tapping against the desk like you were completely invisible.

You toss the magazine onto the table—just a little too hard. Then you stretch out on the couch, shifting just enough that his button-down rides up, baring more of your thighs than should be considered decent. The air against your skin makes you hyperaware of what isn't there—only your favorite panties. The tiniest scrap of fabric between you and absolute obscenity. If he so much as glanced in your direction, he'd have the perfect view. But he doesn't.

You sigh again, softer this time, just enough to sound absentminded, like you're not trying to get his attention (even though you absolutely are). As you push yourself off the couch, you stretch a little, giving yourself an extra moment to watch him. You make your way toward him, steps slow, letting the hem of his shirt brush against the tops of your thighs as you move. His fingers flex against the page.

You settle against the edge of his desk, bracing yourself on your elbows, making a very intentional point of pressing your tits together. It's the kind of thing that should be subtle—just a natural consequence of your posture.

Months of Aaron have taught you more than just the way he takes his coffee or how he organizes his files. You've studied him—memorized him even. And one thing has become crystal clear:

He's absolutely a boob man.

You realized it gradually—the subtle stiffening of his posture whenever you leaned a little too close in the office, the way his fingers flexed when your blouse had just a bit too much give.

Then, when you started dating, it became even clearer. His hands never just grabbed—they claimed, like he was making up for all the times he couldn't touch.

His voice would go low, reverent, when he murmured, so pretty, sweetheart, his thumb brushing over your skin like he needed to feel it. And your bras—he had thoughts about those, much to your surprise. Which ones were his favorite. Which ones he hated because they got in the way.

But it wasn't until months later—when he had you spread out beneath him, his mouth hot and urgent against your skin—that he admitted it. His voice was rough, breathless, his grip tightening as he groaned, been trying so fucking hard not to look at these for years. And then, just to prove it, his mouth sealed over you like he had years to make up for.

"Do you need anything? Water? Coffee? Maybe lunch?"

His eyes lift—quick, practiced, almost indifferent.

Almost.

Because before they settle back down, they pause, just for a fraction of a second, right there. Right at the collar of his button-down, where the top buttons are hanging loose, where your skin is warm and soft and practically begging for attention.

But then, before you can revel in it, he's already looking back down. "No, I'm fine, sweetheart."

You bite your lip, actually contemplating throwing his stupid case file out the window. He's either knows what you're trying to accomplish and ignoring you on purpose or he's just that focused. You weren't sure which was worse.

You shove off the desk, but you don't step away. Instead, you step closer. Your hands find his shoulders first, sliding down to his chest as you lean into him, pressing against his back. The shift is immediate. He goes still, his spine going ramrod straight, like his brain has just caught up to what's happening.

Your shirt is paper-thin, your nipples are pressed right against him, and unless he's suddenly gone completely numb, he feels it.

You sink against him, letting your chin rest on his shoulder, breathing him in. Gods, he smells good. Clean, sharp, like something expensive.

You recognized it as the cologne you bought him. The one you picked, the one you dabbed on his wrist in the middle of a department store and grinned, telling him, This. This smells like you. This is the one.

Your fingers skim over his collar, your nails just barely catching against the heat of his skin.

"What are you working on?" You let the question drip from your lips, your voice all honey, sweet, but not innocent.

Aaron hums low in his throat. "Case notes."

"That's boring. Is there anything I can do to help? Your assistant is very willing to be of service."

His fingers pause and your stomach flips. But then, before you can savor it, he moves. His hand finds yours, slow, gentle, lifting it with patience. He presses a kiss to your knuckles, featherlight, frustratingly chaste, before setting your hand back down like you're some good little thing that's been successfully pacified. And then you catch it, the tiniest twitch of his lips.

"Thank you, honey, but I've got it under control."

You make a noise, half scoff, half petulant whine, and shift your chin against his shoulder, angling yourself just enough to shoot him a pointed glare. "You always say that. What's the point of having such a capable assistant if you're not going to use her?"

"Hmm. So that's what you want? For me to use you?"

"I don't know. Is that an option?"

Aaron's laugh is low, the kind that rumbles through his chest without much warning. It's never loud—it doesn't have to be—but it still manages to send your stomach into a ridiculous free-fall.

"There's just some stuff I need to finish up."

You groan, letting your forehead drop to his shoulder, arms squeezing around him like you can physically hold his attention. Like you can will it away from the pages in front of him and back to you where it belongs.

"Is that your way of telling me I just have to sit here and be patient?"

Aaron's pen doesn't pause. "Mhm."

You huff. "And you think I'll be able to do that?"

His answer is immediate. Too immediate.

"You've survived this long," he says, and you swear you can hear the smirk in his voice. "I think you'll manage."

"Fine," you say after a moment, stepping around the chair before sinking into his lap, giving him plenty of time to stop you, but he doesn't. He never does.

You shift until you're settled, one leg draped over his, chest brushing his. His breath stutters—just a little, just enough to tell you that he feels you. His fingers flex against the desk, pressing harder into the wood, tension rolling through his back as he goes perfectly still beneath you, like he's waiting to see what you'll do next.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you hum, arms draping easily over his shoulders as you sink against him. Your cheek brushes his, lips just close enough that if he turned his head, just a little, you'd be right there. "You said you had to finish working. Don't let me stop you."

A slow inhale, a slight tilt of his head, then—his pen moves again, like nothing's changed. Like you haven't changed anything. You exhale against his skin, hiding your smirk in the crook of his neck, fingers idly tracing slow, featherlight circles along the nape of it. He's humoring you, and that's fine.

You let him pretend for a while, content to exist in the space between distraction and indulgence. You shift in his lap, weight pressing into his just enough.

His body reacts before he does, muscles tightening, his breath slowing like he's thinking too hard about not reacting.

"Sit still."

"I am still," you reply, the words light on your tongue, but the slow curve of your hips tells another story.

"Sweetheart."

You lean in, close enough that your noses brush, your forehead pressing to his as your lips part ever so slightly. "What? I'm not doing anything."

Aaron's breath comes out sharp, ragged, the sound scraping its way from his throat like he's been holding onto it for too long. His chest pushes against yours, every inhale pressing you closer, every exhale heating the space between you. He leans back, just enough to create the smallest sliver of distance.

You roll your hips again, slower this time, savoring the friction that sends a shudder through you, tightening every muscle in your body with anticipation. The feeling sparks through you, sharp and intoxicating, sending heat pooling in your stomach. His reaction was subtle, the shift of his jaw, his hand brushing against the desk, like he doesn't trust himself to touch you yet.

His gaze drops, heavy-lidded, to where your bodies fit together, the rise and fall of your breath syncing with his.

His hands land on your hips, thumbs pressing in, not enough to stop you, just enough to remind you he could if he wanted to. When his eyes meet yours again, there's no rush, no immediate reaction. You knew exactly what it meant and what usually followed, he was just waiting for the moment you tip the scales too far.

"Do you want to tell me what exactly it is you're trying to do?" he asks, his voice low, the kind of tone that makes you forget your own name for a second.

You push against him again, grinding just enough to feel the press of him, the heat of him, and god. His fingers dig in—tight—like he's trying to stop you, but you don't miss the way his breath catches, the way his grip falters for half a second. Your fingers curl into his shirt, and suddenly, you can't remember what your original plan was.

You shift forward, your body molding to his, your breath fanning against his skin as your lips brush his ear. Your teeth scrape, light, but not accidental.

"I'm just feel a little... overlooked." Your fingers tighten where they rest, nails digging in just enough to make sure he feels it. "Is it so bad that I want your attention?"

His grip tightens, harder this time, his fingers digging into your hips with a kind of warning you'd be stupid to ignore. The heat of his palms seeps through the thin fabric of his shirt, scorching into your skin like a brand.

"You have my attention." You don't believe him. Not really. You press your lips into a pout, brow furrowing just slightly. "But if you keep moving like that, I might now be so nice about it."

Your hips shift, an instinctive little squirm, testing to see if you can push past his hold. You can't. "I can't help it."

"You can't help it?" he repeats, almost thoughtful, like he's turning the idea over in his mind. "I think you can. You just don't want to."

You want to argue, you really do, but nothing comes out, only a sharp inhale that never quite makes it into words. Because he's right. He knows he's right.

The little noise that escapes your throat is purely instinctual, frustrated but breathy, like your body is already conceding before your mind catches up.

"I told you to stop," he murmurs, but the way it sinks into you, the way it wraps around your ribs like something stretched too tight, tells you exactly what kind of trouble you're in.

He mirrors you, crowding in, his breath skimming your ear. His palm presses into the small of your back, slotting you back into place. "But you don't listen, do you?"

You shake your head without even meaning to, the deafening roar of your pulse making it impossible to think clearly.

"No, you don't," he murmurs, his tone dipping lower, turning darker, more intimate. His hands flex as if to remind you of the control he holds. Then his lips graze your jaw, his breath fanning over your skin. "You push. You test the boundaries. And then you pretend to be shocked when I hold you to them."

His fingers slide down, dragging over your thigh with an almost excruciating slowness. He pauses to squeeze there.

"First, you sprawled out on the couch—" his thumb sweeps over your skin, "like you didn't know exactly how that would look."

Your breath stutters, catches, knots itself into something tangled and messy as his hand moves, sliding higher, pressing firmer, stopping just shy of where the ache blooms.

His eyes darken, the heat behind them smoldering with something deep, something that settles like fire in the pit of your stomach.

"Then you leaned over my desk, practically shoving these—" His hand moves before the words fully land, cupping the curve of your breast. His thumb rolls over your nipple. "—right in my face."

Your breath catches, your hips lifting, your thighs parting like you're meant to be touched. Like you need him there. But he doesn't give in. He just moves lower, slow and taunting, until his palm covers the heat between your legs, pressing lightly over the thin fabric of your panties.

His fingers flex, testing. Feeling.

"And now this," he murmurs, and gods, his voice, his voice, is like a razor wrapped in velvet, smooth and cutting all at once. "You squirm and pout like you don't know exactly what you're doing. But I know better, don't I?"

The words settle in your spine, and suddenly, you don't feel like you know what you're doing. Like you're the one pulling at a thread you don't quite understand, but it's already too late to stop. A shiver rolls through you, bone-deep, leaving your muscles lax, your body melting into his like you were always meant to be here.

"I'm sorry," you murmur so quietly, you're not even sure if he hears it. "I just... I wanted you to notice me."

Aaron's hum is low, deep, almost amused. His thumb finds your jaw, sweeping along the curve of it as he tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"Oh, I noticed you. I always notice you. In fact, you're all I ever notice." His hand slips away from where you want it most. "But if this is the only way you know how to ask for my attention, sweetheart, then I think we have a problem."

Your grip on his shirt is useless, you're clinging to him, to anything, but he's the one in control. His hands settle on your hips, demanding, guiding you over the hard line of his cock, forcing you to take the friction, to feel every inch of him through the layers still between you.

The friction is blinding, sending heat licking up your spine, setting every nerve in your body on fire. Your legs tremble, a sharp, choked sound escaping before you can stop it, and you clutch at his shoulders, nails sinking deep into muscle as pleasure coils tight and insistent in your belly.

"Aaron," his name slips from your lips, high and uneven, like it costs something to say it. Your head bows, forehead pressing into his shoulder, hands trembling against his chest. "I wasn't trying to be bad. I just... I didn't know what else to do."

"No, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You didn't think, did you? And now look where that's gotten you."

His words should sting, but they don't, not when his hands are so gentle, smoothing down your spine like he's soothing something raw inside you. And then his voice, warm and promising, settles over you, "But I'll take care of you now."

And gods, you need him to. He's so hard, the thick length of him pressing against you through denim and cotton, teasing, tormenting. Everything burns—your skin, your stomach, that deep, pulsing ache between your thighs. Your head swims, feverish, your mind caught between more and please and I can't take this. But he knows. Of course, he knows.

"Do you feel that?"

"Yes."

"Good. If you want to keep going, you'll take care of it. Go ahead."

Your hands move with the kind of urgency that betrays just how badly you need this, need him. Your fingers trail down, brushing over the tight muscles of his stomach, and it's almost enough to make you dizzy, just touching him, just knowing what's waiting for you beneath layers of fabric.

The button of his jeans fumbles beneath your fingers before finally popping open. And then you're pulling him free. He's thick in your hand, burning hot against your palm, and something about that, about feeling him like this, for you, makes something feral sink its teeth into you.

And then he finds you.

His fingers slip under your panties, gliding through the obscene slickness there, and you don't mean to react so violently, don't mean to moan so loud, but it rips out of you before you can stop it.

"Oh, honey," Aaron murmurs, almost thoughtful, like he's just now realizing the full extent of your undoing. "I didn't realize you'd gotten this worked up."

Like it's an observation. Like it's fascinating.

His fingers push, stretching you open, teasing just the right spot, and you jerk against him with a sharp, strangled moan. Your grip around him tightens, your strokes turning sloppy, uneven, desperate.

"Aaron—" His name tumbles out high and needy, your head tipping back, eyes fluttering shut.

"I didn't mean to—" Your voice shakes, a hitched little gasp tangled between syllables. "I just—" Your breath stutters, heat climbing, overwhelming. "I didn't know what to do."

"You don't have to know what to do." His fingers slow just enough to let you catch his breath as he murmurs. "You just have to let me take over. That's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Your nod is frantic, almost mindless, as his words echo in your ears.

"Please." It falls from your lips like a confession, like you'd say anything if it means he'll give you what you want.

His fingers thrust deeper, and the shock of it rips a gasp from your lips, straight into his kiss. It's messy, frantic, all clashing mouths and stolen air, your breaths coming too fast to match his, like you're afraid if you let him go for even a second, he'll pull away.

Your grip on him tightens without thinking, your fingers flexing around his cock, but the sensation barely registers now, drowned out by the wetness pooling between your thighs, the slick drag of his fingers against your walls.

You can't keep up. You're chasing something that feels just out of reach, your hands leaving his cock, fumbling for something solid, something real. They find his face, fingertips brushing over the rough stubble of his jaw, trying to find yourself in him, in the way he's ruining you.

You kiss him like you can tell him everything that way, like he might understand the ache better through lips and tongues and the way your body trembles under his hands.

And then—he stops. His fingers slip free, and the sound you make is a whine, a protest, your hips tilting, seeking, trying to drag him back in. But he doesn't move, doesn't give you what you need, just smirks against your lips like he enjoys watching you squirm.

"You're so impatient," he murmurs against your lips.

But before you can protest, before you can tell him that yes, yes, you am impatient, please just give it to me, his hands tighten on your hips. And then—oh.

He lifts you, positioning you just right, and then, lowers you down.

The head of his cock pushes inside, and your breath catches, lips parting in a broken gasp. The stretch is devastating, inch by inch forcing your body to open, to yield to him. He's so deep, impossibly deep, and for a second, you forget how to breathe, how to think, your only thought being how does he even fit?

It feels endless, your thighs shaking against his as he takes his time, forcing you to feel every slow, torturous inch. Your body clenches around him, your nails dragging over his scalp as you bury your face against his neck.

"Breathe," he murmurs, voice thick, lips grazing your temple. "That's it. Let me take care of you. You just have to let me in, sweetheart."

"Okay, okay," you whisper, voice shaky as you bury your face against his neck, arms wrapping tighter around him.

His other hand moves, dragging up your spine before wrapping around your waist. And then—he presses deeper.

The air leaves your lungs in a sharp, punched-out gasp. He doesn't stop, doesn't let you breathe, just sinks in, stretching you open until he's fully seated inside you. Until there's nowhere left to go.

"That's it," he groans, voice tight, his mouth ghosting along your jaw. "So tight. So warm. Fuck, sweetheart, you know this is what you were made for, don't you?"

You try to think of something, something teasing, something bratty, something that might tip him over the edge, but your body betrays you, trembling around him, squeezing down so tight you feel him shudder.

"God, you're tight," he mutters, his fingers pressing into your hips, hard enough to leave bruises. "I can feel every little tremble, every squeeze. You feel that, sweetheart? How perfectly you fit around me?"

"It's like you don't want to let me go. Is that what you want, honey? To keep me right here?"

Your body clenches down instinctively, like you're answering him without meaning to, and his breath catches for just a second before his lips curve against your skin. You nod, frantic, a little dazed, a little wrecked, and his chuckle is pure sin.

"Good. Because I'm not going anywhere."

He pulls back just enough to create the kind of unbearable friction that makes your breath catch, your body tightening like a bowstring.

"Every little sound you make drives me insane." His breath drags over your cheek, his lips just shy of touching, like he's teasing himself as much as he is you. "Do you even realize what you do to me?"

You try to answer, you really do, but your lungs don't work properly anymore, your body focused on the pleasure threatening to snap at any second. Your fingertips tremble against his shoulders, your thighs quiver, and Aaron knows exactly what that means.

"That's it. I can feel you trembling, sweetheart. You're so close, aren't you?"

His words strike something deep, something primal, and the fire curling between your thighs roars in response. Your head tips back, your breath breaking apart as your hands scramble for purchase, fingers sliding to his face, thumbs brushing over the roughness of his jaw. You pull him into a kiss that's all hunger, all desperation, your lips parting to let him devour you.

He groans into your mouth, a sound that vibrates through your chest, and then his hips snap up into you. The stretch is suffocating, the sheer fullness of him sending sharp pulses of pleasure up your body with every deep thrust.

"I've got you," he murmurs against your lips. "You don't have to hold back. Just let go for me, sweetheart."

It crashes into you harder than you expected, knocking the breath straight from your lungs. Your moan catches halfway, tumbling out in pieces as your body convulses, clenches tight, gripping him in a way that makes him hiss through his teeth.

He thrusts deep, brutal, final, and then he's gone, his head dropping back as a groan tears from his chest.

He fills you in thick, pulsing waves, each pulse making your thighs tighten around him, making you gasp at how deep it settles. The feeling is overwhelming—the heat of him, the weight, the way his cock still twitches inside you, like he’s unwilling to let a single drop go to waste.

You're not sure where your body ends and his begins, your limbs heavy, useless, boneless as you slump against him. Your breath stutters, still uneven, every exhale pushing against his chest as the last waves of pleasure roll through you.

"You take every drop so fucking well," he murmurs. "Meant to keep you full."

His fingers press into your hips, just a little tighter, just enough to make you feel how deep he still is.

"Don’t move yet."

Your breath stutters, the words landing deep, something fluttering tight in your stomach.

"Just a little longer," he murmurs, his hands absently smoothing up and down your spine. His voice drops, lower, rougher—

"I want to make sure it sticks."

You shudder, pressing closer, your face tucking against his neck as everything—the fullness, every drop of his cum—settles in.

Aaron exhales, his chest rising beneath you, and suddenly, he shifts. His grip on your hips soften and slide up, like he can feel the way you're trembling against him.

"Breathe, sweetheart," he murmurs. "You can do that for me, can't you?"

You try, you really do, but when you inhale, it's a stuttering, gasping thing, barely controlled. Your thighs still shake, your body still throbs around him, and you can feel the way he exhales, like he enjoys this—enjoys feeling you like this, soft and trembling in his arms.

"Easy," he murmurs. One hand slides up your spine, cupping the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. "That was a lot."

You nod—or, at least, you think you do. Everything feels floaty, light, warm. Your head feels like it's filled with pink clouds. Your limbs feel soft, useless, like you're some well-loved doll that's been played with for hours.

He tilts your chin up, catching your gaze.

"You okay?" His brow furrows slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone.

You blink slowly at him, lips parting, trying to focus.

"Mhm," you hum, then pause, frowning just slightly. "Wait, no—hold on."

His jaw tenses immediately, but you reach up, poking his cheek with a weak, clumsy finger.

"You didn't kiss me," you mumble, like it's the most important fact in the universe. "You're supposed to kiss me after, 'cause, like, you love me and all that."

Hotch lets out a slow breath, like he's holding something back. His head tilts, just barely shaking, like he's in mild disbelief of you. And okay, fine, maybe you do say a lot of dumb things. But this wasn't dumb. It was valid. It was scientifically proven that post-sex cuddles should include at least one (1) I love you and one (1) kiss, and you were simply holding him accountable.

"Of course I love you," he murmurs, like the answer is so obvious, so unquestionable, that it almost makes you feel silly for asking. And then he kisses you.

It's deep, drawn-out, the kind of kiss that makes you forget where you are.

You're still in his lap, still tangled in the ridiculous, oversized leather chair, but you don't feel like you're anywhere. Not in his apartment, not even in your own body. Just floating, existing in between his lips and yours.

When you finally pull back, it's not even voluntary—just the sad, unfortunate reality of needing air.

"Wow," you murmur, your fingers lazily brushing over his jaw.

"Wow?"

"Mhm." Your tongue darts out, sweeping over the kiss-swollen curve of your bottom lip, like you're trying to catch what's left of him there, trying to savor it. "Like... I feel very wow."

A smirk tugs at his lips, but his hands don't stop moving, don't stop tracing, don't stop feeling. His fingers smoothed absently over your hips, up your spine, his palms blending into your skin. Like he's checking for something. Like he's making sure you're here with him.

And for a second, you think he's about to kiss you again. He looks like he wants to, his gaze flickers to your lips, his hands flex just slightly, his body leans in just a hair. But then his gaze flickers, his lips part slightly as if he'd just remembered something.

"You said something earlier."

You blink again, brain lagging behind slightly as reality creeps back in, still floating somewhere in bliss. Which you felt was a more pressing topic than whatever he's about to say.

Your face scrunches up immediately, like maybe if you look cute enough, he'd drop it.

"I said a lot of things earlier," you rush out, voice a little too high, a little too hasty, your hand flapping vaguely in the air. "So many things. A real stream of nonsense, actually. I was just saying words, you know, as one does—"

You shift slightly, suddenly painfully aware of the position you're in, and he doesn't even blink.

"Aaron," you say, narrowing your eyes. "You're literally still inside me and you want to have a conversation right now?"

"Yes," he says simply, like of course he does, like this is completely reasonable, like you aren't still wrapped around him, skin warm and sticky from what you just did.

His brows furrow slightly, and his head tilts in that very specific way that means he's already pulling apart the words, unraveling them like a thread, and working through them with that brain of his before you can even begin to take it back.

"You said you felt overlooked," he states plainly, like a fact, which you guessed it was. "If that was something you just said in the moment, we can drop it."

His eyes narrow, studying you like he already knows the answer. "But if you meant it, then I want to understand why."

Your mouth parts, ready to push out something easy, something light, something that won't lead to the very real, very terrifying act of actually admitting things.

He was serious. Not angry or annoyed. Just serious. And concerned.

You exhale, suddenly very invested in dragging your nails lightly over his chest, watching the way they disappear into the fabric of his shirt, how his muscles shift slightly beneath your touch.

"I mean... it's not a thing," you mumble, barely glancing up. "More like a thing-adjacent."

"Sweetheart." The firmness in his voice made your stomach flip. It's not a scolding or a warning, just his way of making you hear him. "I'm not interested in whether you think it's a thing or not. I'm interested in whether it's true."

"I mean, I guess... maybe a little."

His fingers flex, like he's taking that in. He nods once, slowly. "That makes sense."

Your brows furrow. "It does?"

"Yes," he states plainly, like it's obvious. "You pick up on subtle changes—even the ones I don't intend to project. And when I get hyper focused on something, I shut everything else out. Not just you. Everyone."

"It's a defense mechanism. A way to compartmentalize. It doesn't mean I don't notice you. It means my brain assigns the highest level of urgency to the task at hand, and everything else—everything outside of that—is temporarily shut out."

"When I do that, it makes sense that you would feel like I'm not paying attention to you," he continues. "Because in those moments I'm not."

Your breath catches. He says it so matter-of-factly, so plainly, that it almost doesn't sting at first, it just lands.

His grip tightens ever so slightly where his hands rest on your like he already knows how you're taking it.

"But that doesn't mean I don't want to be paying attention," he murmurs, fingers brushing slow, absentminded circles against your skin. "It doesn't mean you don't exist in the back of my mind, even when I'm caught up in something else."

Aaron leans in a fraction, his eyes holding yours.

"Do you know what I did last night after you fell asleep?" he asks.

You blink. "Uh... sleep?"

He smirks. "Eventually. But first, I checked the thermostat. You always get cold at night, even when you say you won't."

Your face warms. "That's just—,"

"And before I left for work last week, I moved your car closer to the building because I saw you left your umbrella at my place."

"I—,"

"And when I'm out of town, do you know what I do every morning?"

You swallow.

"No."

"I think about what you're having for breakfast," he murmurs. "Not consciously. It's not something I try to do. It just... happens."

"You always eat something sweet," he continues, his thumb brushing over your jaw. "It's usually a pastry or something covered in chocolate. Sometimes cake, if we're being honest."

Your scrunch your nose again and he smiles.

"So, tell me," he murmurs, tilting your chin up. "Does that sound like someone who overlooks you?"

Your lips part but nothing comes out. Your heart aches—not the bad kind, but the kind that makes your chest feel too small for everything inside it. Because he's right. He notices everything. Not in the big, showy romance-movie ways but in the little things. In ways that matter.

You inhale a little too hard, blinking quickly, but the stinging in your eyes isn't going anywhere.

Aaron sees it immediately. "Sweetheart."

You shake your head quickly, sniffling.

"I'm not crying," you announce, even though your voice cracks on the last word, which kind of ruins the effect.

He smirks. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," you say firmly, poking his chest. "I just—I feel very loved and now I have to process that."

"Okay," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Do you need time to process, or should I just assume you're going to be attached to me for the foreseeable future?"

Your smile is instant, automatic, the kind that takes over your whole face before you can even think about stopping it. Your arms tighten around his neck, fingers curling into his shirt like you have any intention of letting go.

"Oh no, you're definitely stuck with me," you declare. "Like, you might need to call someone if you ever actually want me to let go."

His smirk is instant. "You're saying I should alert the authorities?"

You nod sagely. "I mean, that would be the responsible thing to do. But by the time they arrive, I'll have already made a compelling argument about how you should just let it happen."

Aaron huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "I'm sure you would."

taglist: @readergf @edencherries @aurorsworld @princess76179 @malindacath @broadwaytraaaaash @sunfyyre @sleepysongbirdsings @trulycayla @crouchingapple @navia3000 @aaronlovesava @bakugocanstompme @pansexualhailstorm @averyhotchner @looking1016 @everythinglizzy @sky2nd @alexxavicry @spencerssatchel @candyd1es @storiesofsvu @pleasantgardenwitch @kodzukenmaa @hiireadstuff @dilflover-3 @spennciesslut @phoenix-le-danseur-de-pole @jstcln @just-here-to-read13 @c-losur3 @wondergal2001 @oliver-1270 @ssahotchbabe @savagemickey03 @justanotherbimboslxt @imoonkiss @estragos @khxna @de-duchess @raysmayhem-72 @piinksdoll @justyourusualash @whimsicalpolitical @kcch-ns @cool-light32 @reidfile @sugarbutterbailey @ssamorganhotchner @persephonestears @moonyxstars @spookyysinsanity @proxxyshouse @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack @imsonotweird @jungchloe @she-wont-miss @duchesz @may-machin99 @historicallyweirdandqueer @in-the-kosmos @lcvealwayss @p13rc3-th3-m4tt13 @babyhoneybyhs @reire11

taglist is closed for now until i can figure out the best way to include more than 50 mentions :(

#aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo assistant reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #hotchner #hotch #criminal minds smut

492 notes · View notes

hazelira · 3 days ago

Text

cravings & regrets

It was the middle of the night when you shook Heeseung awake.

"Hee," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grunted, shifting in bed. "What is it, baby?"

You hesitated briefly before softly pleading, "I want ice cream."

Heeseung groaned, rubbing a tired hand over his face. "Baby, it’s…" He unquestioningly reached for his phone on the nightstand, squinting at the time. "Three in the morning."

"And?"

His lips pressed together. He was exhausted. He’d spent all day working, running errands, making sure you were comfortable. He just wanted one night of uninterrupted sleep. "Can’t it wait until morning?"

The silence that followed was heavy.

You exhaled sharply, sitting up in bed. "Forget it," you muttered, pushing the blankets off.

Heeseung turned his head, watching you retreat to the living room. He wanted to call you back, apologize, and tell you he’d go—but his body felt heavy, weighed down by exhaustion.

Minutes later, Heeseung woke up to an empty bed.

His arms instinctively reached for you, but all he felt were cold sheets.

A frown tugged at his lips. Maybe you were in the washroom?

But then he heard movement from the living room.

Curious—and slightly uneasy—Heeseung pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stepped out of the bedroom.

His heart dropped at the sight before him.

You were sitting on the couch, struggling to put on your shoes. Your fingers fumbled with the laces, trembling slightly, frustration etched into every movement. Your lips were pressed together, a quiet exhale leaving them as your free hand cradled your belly.

"Please, baby, stop kicking, I know you're hungry." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "Just let Mommy go get our ice cream."

Heeseung’s stomach twisted with guilt.

You were really about to go.

Alone.

At three in the morning.

Because he hadn’t listened.

"Baby."

Your hands stilled. Slowly, you turned your head, eyes meeting his.

"Heeseung, go back to bed."

He ignored your words, closing the distance between you and kneeling in front of you. His hands found yours, gently prying them away from your laces. "You were really about to go by yourself?"

You looked away. "I didn’t want to bother you anymore."

A sharp pang hit his chest.

Heeseung sighed, bringing your hands to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "You never bother me," he murmured.

"You were tired," you said, voice small.

"I should’ve gotten up anyway," he admitted. "You asked me for one thing, and I—" He sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I’m sorry."

A beat of silence passed before you finally exhaled. "I just really wanted it, Hee."

"I know, baby," he whispered. "I’ll go get it now."

You blinked. "But—"

"No ‘buts.’ You’re not going anywhere." Heeseung gently took your jacket and shoes, returning them to the door hanger and shoe rack before returning them to you. He guided you to sit comfortably on the couch, ensuring a blanket was draped over you. "Just rest, okay? I’ll be back soon."

"…Three tubs?"

Heeseung chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Three tubs or all of them. Any flavours you want, baby."

And as he stepped out into the cold night, he made a silent promise.

No matter how tired he was, he always got up for you.

The cold night air stung Heeseung’s skin as he stepped out of the apartment complex, hoodie barely enough to shield him from the late-night chill. He exhaled, his breath fogging in the cold as he shoved his hands into his pockets and started toward the nearest convenience store.

He should have gone the first time you asked.

That thought gnawed at him the entire walk there. The image of you struggling to put on your shoes, whispering to the baby inside you, still played in his head like a bad dream.

You didn’t want to bother him anymore.

It made him feel like the worst husband in the world.

By the time he reached the store, Heeseung was already pulling out his phone, scrolling through your texts in search of past cravings. He knew you liked vanilla, but you swore by chocolate some days. Then there was the weird strawberry and caramel combination you’d been obsessed with last month.

"Hey, man, you good?"

The cashier, a tired-looking guy around his age, raised an eyebrow as Heeseung stood frozen in the ice cream aisle, staring at the tubs like they held the answers to life itself.

"My wife’s pregnant," Heeseung explained, running a hand through his hair. "I messed up, and I need to fix it."

The cashier let out a knowing chuckle. "Ah, cravings. Been there, man. Just get one of each."

Heeseung blinked, then nodded quickly. "Right. One of each."

Moments later, he walked out of the store with a bag full of ice cream tubs—French vanilla, chocolate chip cookie dough, mango, salted caramel, and even cookies and cream, just in case. It was excessive, sure, but after tonight? He’d rather be safe than sorry.

When Heeseung returned home, the living room was quiet.

You were curled up on the couch, a blanket pulled up to your chin, eyes closed. Your breathing was steady, but your brows were still slightly furrowed, like you hadn’t fully relaxed even in your sleep.

Heeseung’s heart clenched.

Carefully, he set the bag down in the kitchen before reaching you. He crouched beside the couch, brushing a gentle hand over your hair. "Baby," he murmured.

You stirred, letting out a sleepy hum.

"I got your ice cream," he whispered.

Your eyes fluttered open, still groggy. "…You did?"

Heeseung nodded, smiling softly. "Five tubs. Every flavour you like."

A small, sleepy laugh escaped you. "Five?"

"I didn’t wanna risk getting the wrong ones," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just wanted to make sure you had what you wanted."

Your gaze softened as you reached up to cup his cheek. "Thank you, Hee."

Heeseung leaned into your touch, exhaling slowly. "I’m sorry for earlier," he murmured. "I should’ve gotten up the first time you asked. You shouldn’t have felt like you had to go alone."

You were silent for a moment before shaking your head. "I was just… frustrated," you admitted quietly. "The cravings are bad, and the baby kicking didn’t help. I didn’t mean to make you feel guilty."

Heeseung sighed, resting his forehead against yours. "Still. I never want you to feel like you can’t ask me for things. You and our baby come first, always."

Your fingers traced light patterns on his cheek. "You got up in the middle of the night for me."

He huffed a soft laugh. "Of course I did. I’ll do it again if I have to."

You smiled, your eyes filled with warmth now. "You’re the best husband."

Heeseung grinned. "I know."

You rolled your eyes playfully before murmuring, "Can we eat the ice cream now?"

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead before standing up. "Yeah, baby. Let me get you a spoon."

And as he watched you sit up, eyes lighting up at the sight of the ice cream tubs, Heeseung knew—no matter how exhausted he was, no matter what time it was—he’d do this for you again in a heartbeat.

You sat cross-legged on the couch, a blanket draped over your lap as Heeseung set the ice cream tubs in front of you. Your eyes sparkled with satisfaction as you reached for the first tub, quickly scooping a spoonful into a bowl.

"Wait," Heeseung murmured, watching you with an amused smile. "You're mixing all of them?"

You nodded, barely paying him attention as you grabbed another scoop—French vanilla, chocolate chip cookie dough, mango, salted caramel, cookies and cream. Each melted slightly into the next, creating a chaotic blend of colours and flavours.

Heeseung leaned back against the couch, shaking his head. "That’s insane."

You glanced up at him with a teasing smirk. "And yet, I’m the one carrying your baby, craving insane things."

He laughed, stretching an arm over the back of the couch as he watched you take the first bite. The second the spoon hit your tongue, you let out a slight, satisfied hum, your body visibly relaxing as the craving was finally happy.

"Is that good?" Heeseung asked, his voice softer now and filled with quiet fondness.

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. "So good."

Heeseung chuckled, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. "Glad to know my lack of sleep was worth it."

You cracked one eye open, a guilty smile tugging at your lips. "I’ll make it up to you."

"You already did," he murmured, gaze flickering down to your belly. "By giving me our baby."

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, the exhaustion, cravings, and frustration from earlier faded into something warm, something safe.

"You wanna try?" you asked, holding the spoon to him.

Heeseung grimaced playfully. "I don’t know if I trust that combination."

You rolled your eyes, scooping another bite and holding it closer. "Come on, Hee. For me?"

He groaned dramatically before leaning in, letting you feed him. The moment the flavours hit his tongue, his face twisted in confusion.

"Yeah, no," he muttered after swallowing. "That is not a normal mix."

You giggled, licking the spoon yourself. "More for me, then."

Heeseung just shook his head, smiling as he watched you eat.

A few minutes passed in comfortable silence before he spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. "Hey."

You glanced at him. "Hmm?"

"Promise me next time you want something this bad, you’ll wake me up again," he murmured, reaching for your free hand and lacing his fingers through yours. "Even if I grumble or complain, just wake me up."

Your fingers squeezed his. "I promise."

And with that, Heeseung relaxed, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand as you continued eating.

Even if he lost sleep every night for the rest of your pregnancy, it would still be worth it—because he’d do anything for you and the little life you were bringing into the world together.

As the minutes ticked by, the ice cream in your bowl slowly melted into a sugary swirl, but you were too full to finish it. You sighed contentedly, setting the spoon down with a soft clink.

"Done?" Heeseung asked, peering at your half-empty bowl.

You nodded, stretching your arms with a sleepy hum. "I think I ate too fast," you admitted, rubbing your belly.

Heeseung chuckled, gently reaching out to place his palm over your bump. "You okay, baby?" he murmured, not just to you but to the tiny life growing inside you.

As if in response, a slight kick nudged against his hand.

His eyes widened slightly before his lips curled into the softest smile. "Still active, huh?"

You giggled. "I think they liked the ice cream."

Heeseung kept his hand there, thumb rubbing slow circles against your stomach. He looked so in awe—like feeling his child move inside you was the most incredible thing in the world.

A lump formed in your throat.

You had moments like this before, but something about how he looked at you now—completely present, entirely yours—made you emotional.

"Hee," you whispered.

He glanced up at you, eyes warm and full of love. "Yeah?"

You swallowed, your free hand reaching out to touch his cheek. "I love you."

His expression softened even more, and without hesitation, he leaned in to press a lingering kiss to your lips. It was slow, full of silent apologies and promises, the kind of kiss that made you forget everything else.

"I love you too," he whispered against your lips. "So much."

You smiled, feeling sleepier by the second.

Heeseung noticed. "Come on," he murmured, carefully setting your bowl aside before helping you. "Let’s go to bed."

"But I was comfy here," you whined playfully.

Heeseung rolled his eyes fondly. "Yeah? You’re gonna be comfier in bed, baby."

You let him lead you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist as he guided you back to your shared bedroom. Once you were under the blankets, he climbed beside you, immediately pulling you close.

Your head rested against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful state.

"Wake me up if you need anything," Heeseung murmured, lips brushing against your forehead.

You hummed sleepily. "Even if it’s for ice cream?"

"Even if it’s for ice cream," he confirmed, his arms tightening around you.

And with that, you drifted off, safe and warm in your husband’s embrace, knowing that no matter what—no matter how exhausted he was—he’d always take care of you.

The following day, Heeseung woke up before you.

It wasn’t intentional—he just happened to stir before the alarm, eyes fluttering open to the early sunlight filtering through the curtains. He first noticed the warmth pressed against him, your body curled into his side, one hand resting over his chest.

A lazy smile tugged at his lips.

You were still asleep, breathing slowly and steadily, and your face was peaceful in the soft morning glow. Heeseung’s heart swelled at the sight, and he carefully shifted to kiss your forehead, not wanting to wake you yet.

Last night’s events played in his mind, and he sighed quietly.

He still felt guilty for not getting up the first time you asked. He hated that you’d been so desperate for something as simple as ice cream that you were willing to go alone in the middle of the night despite how exhausted and uncomfortable you must have been.

Heeseung promised himself he wouldn’t let that happen again.

Careful not to disturb you, he slipped out of bed, padding into the kitchen. The ice cream tubs were still in the freezer, untouched, except for the ones you ate. Heeseung smirked, shaking his head at the ridiculous amount of flavours he had bought.

He could already imagine you teasing him about it later.

Instead of thinking too hard, he started preparing breakfast—something light but comforting. He knew your appetite had been over the place lately, so he settled on making soft scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and a small fruit bowl.

As he moved around the kitchen, he kept stealing glances toward the bedroom, listening for any signs of you waking up. He wanted you to sleep as much as possible. You deserved it after last night.

Just as he was about to pour you a glass of water, he heard soft footsteps.

Turning around, he saw you standing in the doorway, hair messy from sleep, eyes still half-lidded. You were wearing one of his oversized hoodies, the sleeves covering your hands, making you look even smaller despite your growing belly.

His heart squeezed at the sight.

"Morning, baby," Heeseung greeted, voice gentle.

You yawned, rubbing your eyes before blinking at him. "You left the bed."

He chuckled, setting the glass down before walking over to you. "Just to make breakfast." He reached out, pulling you close so he could press a kiss to your temple. "How’re you feeling?"

You leaned into him, arms looping around his waist. "Better. Still tired."

"Go sit down," he murmured, rubbing your back. "I’ll bring your food."

You didn’t protest, letting him guide you to a chair at the dining table. Heeseung placed the plate in front of you before sitting across from you, watching you take your first bite.

The second you let out a pleased hum, Heeseung felt his shoulders relax.

"Good?" he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, chewing happily. "You take such good care of me, Hee."

Heeseung’s heart melted at your words. Reaching across the table, he took your free hand in his, squeezing gently.

"Always," he murmured.

And in that quiet morning light, as you shared breakfast together, Heeseung knew it would always be worth it no matter how exhausted or inconvenient.

You sighed happily, the warm breakfast filling you with much-needed comfort. Heeseung sat across from you, his hand still holding yours as if he didn’t want to let go. You knew he felt guilty about last night, even if he hadn’t said it outright.

"Hee," you murmured between bites.

He looked up from his plate. "Yeah?"

You gave his fingers a reassuring squeeze. "You don’t have to feel bad about last night."

His lips parted slightly like he was about to protest, but you beat him to it.

"I get it," you continued. "You were tired. I was just being stubborn." You poked at your eggs with your fork, feeling a little embarrassed now that you were thinking about it with a clearer head. "I should’ve waited until morning instead of trying to go out alone."

Heeseung exhaled slowly, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. "Still," he murmured, eyes filled with guilt, "I don’t like the thought of you struggling alone, even if it’s over something small. You’re carrying our baby, Y/N. I want to be there for you—even when I’m half-asleep and grumpy."

Your chest ached at his sincerity.

"You are here for me," you reassured him. "Always. You came through last night, didn’t you?"

Heeseung let out a soft chuckle. "After being a pain in the ass about it."

You smiled, lifting his hand to press a kiss against his knuckles. "I love you—even when you’re a pain."

His expression softened, and before you could react, he was out of his chair, crouching beside you. He rested his forehead gently against your belly, hands cradling your sides.

"And I love you," he whispered, speaking to you and the little life inside you. "Both of you."

Your throat tightened, and you were overwhelmed with emotion. You ran your fingers through his soft hair, letting the moment linger.

Then, Heeseung pulled away just enough to look up at you, a teasing glint in his tired eyes.

"…So, no more midnight ice cream runs?"

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. "I mean… I can’t promise that."

He groaned dramatically, dropping his head onto your lap while you giggled, fingers still tangled in his hair.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought," he muttered against the fabric of your hoodie.

Despite his complaint, you knew—without a doubt—he’d do it all over again if you asked.

Because Heeseung loved you.

And he would always choose you.

requested by: @leilamaybelyla

my perm taglist<3 <- request here

@seonhoon @dollrincess @ethanatvre @rei4sunoo @shxhdsstuff @jakeflvrz @laylasbunbunny @jiiyen @saphiranishimurashan @lovelycassy @starry-eyed-bimbo @babyboomysweetie @24svnn @pinkglitterpuke @mellowgalaxystrawberry @heavenki @s1rawb3rry @madslove-enhypen @aishigrey @yangjungwonnie @lilmarsh-t @hoseokteardrop @mrsjjongstby @ro-diaries @ijustwannareadstuff20 @leilamaybelyla @celestialen

433 notes · View notes

jiminomenon · 1 day ago

Text

assistant! reader going viral and capturing the attention of model! karina’s fans

pairing: model! karina x assistant! female reader

word count: 843

summary: when karina posts a mirror selfie, y/n unintentionally steals the spotlight, sparking a viral reaction. as fans focus on her assistant, karina struggles with unexpected feelings of possessiveness and jealousy.

from my series: the devil wears prada

it all started with a selfie.

jimin had been in one of her moods, insisting on taking the perfect photo for her instagram. “y/n, set up my phone,” she said, handing over the device. “i want a mirror selfie, and make sure you get my good side.”

y/n, who had long since mastered the art of dealing with jimin’s diva moments, sighed but obediently propped the phone up on a nearby shelf, angling it toward the full-length mirror in jimin’s dressing room. “your good side is literally every side, jimin. just smile already.”

jimin pouted but struck a pose, her perfectly styled hair catching the sunlight. as the timer counted down, y/n stepped into the frame to adjust the angle, her unimpressed expression clearly visible in the mirror behind jimin.

“let me see,” jimin said, grabbing the phone. she frowned at the photo. “ugh, you ruined it! delete it and take another one.”

y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. she assumed that was the end of it—until the next morning, when she woke up to a flood of notifications on her phone.

“what the…?” y/n muttered, scrolling through her social media. her inbox was full of messages, and her follower count had skyrocketed overnight.

“good morning, sleeping beauty,” jimin said, sauntering into the kitchen with princess in her arms. “why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“did you… post that photo?” y/n asked, holding up her phone.

jimin blinked innocently. “which photo?”

“the one where i’m in the background!” y/n said, turning the screen to show her. the photo had gone viral, with thousands of comments and likes. most of them were about y/n.

who’s the assistant?? she’s so pretty!

karina’s assistant is stealing the show 😍

someone get this girl a modeling contract!

jimin’s smile faltered for a split second before she shrugged. “oh, that one. i didn’t think anyone would notice you.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “really? because it looks like everyone noticed me.”

as the day went on, the comments kept pouring in. fans were obsessed with y/n, dubbing her “karina’s pretty assistant” and even creating fan accounts dedicated to her.

jimin, meanwhile, was not handling it well.

“why are they so obsessed with you?” she grumbled, scrolling through the comments during a break in her photoshoot. “you’re not even doing anything in the photo.”

y/n smirked. “maybe they just have good taste.”

jimin glared at her. “this is my instagram. they’re supposed to be talking about me.”

“well, maybe next time you should make sure i’m not in the photo,” y/n said, clearly enjoying jimin’s frustration.

by the time they got home, jimin was in full denial mode. “it’s not that i care,” she said, flopping onto the couch. “i just don’t understand why they’re so interested in you.”

“maybe they think i’m cute,” y/n said, shrugging.

jimin’s eyes narrowed. “you’re not that cute.”

y/n laughed. “says the person who’s been sulking all day because i’m getting more attention than you.”

“i’m not sulking!” jimin protested, crossing her arms. “i just don’t like sharing the spotlight.”

“uh-huh,” y/n said, clearly not convinced.

later that night, jimin found herself scrolling through the comments again. she told herself it was just curiosity, but deep down, she knew it was more than that.

the truth was, jimin didn’t like the idea of y/n being in the spotlight—not because she was jealous of the attention, but because she didn’t want to share her with the world. y/n was hers. her assistant, her confidant, her… well, she wasn’t sure what else, but she knew she didn’t want anyone else to have her.

“stupid comments,” she muttered, tossing her phone aside.

“still obsessing over that photo?” y/n asked, walking into the room with a cup of tea.

“no,” jimin said quickly. “i just… don’t like people assuming things about you.”

y/n raised an eyebrow. “like what?”

“like… that you’re available,” jimin said, her cheeks turning pink. “or that they can just… have you.”

y/n blinked, surprised by the intensity in jimin’s voice. “jimin, are you… jealous?”

“no!” jimin said, too quickly. “i just… you’re my assistant. that’s all.”

y/n smiled, setting down her tea. “you know, for someone who’s not jealous, you’re acting pretty possessive.”

jimin opened her mouth to argue but stopped when y/n sat down next to her. “look,” y/n said softly. “you don’t have to worry. i’m not going anywhere.”

jimin looked at her, her expression softening. “promise?”

“promise,” y/n said, smiling.

the next day, jimin posted another photo—this time, a selfie with y/n clearly in the frame, smiling this time. the caption read: “my assistant. hands off.”

the comments exploded all over again, but this time, jimin didn’t mind. after all, she’d made her point.

y/n rolled her eyes when she saw the post but couldn’t help smiling. “you’re such a drama queen, jimin.”

“maybe,” jimin said, smirking. “but you’re still mine.”

#aespa karina #karina x reader #yoo jimin #yu jimin #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #karina #yoo jimin x reader #yu jimin x reader #kpop gg #karina fluff #bratty! karina #model! karina #jealous! karina

262 notes · View notes

hecksee · 1 day ago

Text

1) i woke up this morning and my bed was so warm and cozy and i didnt need to get up so i read fic for an hour in my blankets

2) im almost done with making myself a fuzzy cardigan with chenile yarn!

3) the semester just changed and i went from having only 1 class with my partner to having 4!!!

4) i got news yesterday that i got accepted into another college, one that basically everyone from my school applies to

5) I've been getting a lot of finished ceramics peices back and ive been so happy with them recently its amazing i'm feeling the love for the craft again

6) my baby birdie fell asleep with her head in her wing on me today, she trusts me so much even though she has so many blood feathers right now

trans and intersex people in my phone, please tell me about the little pleasures of your life right now. anything from something sweet your partner did to a delicious snack to seeing a cool bug. humans tend to be good at remembering the bad and bad at remembering the good so we need to put effort into making the happy moments feel as real as the sad ones.

883 notes · View notes

hrrtshape · 1 day ago

Note

EMMA±??±?±?±?±??!?!?!?!OMGORMGOGMG????? STORYTIME HELLOW WHERE DID U EVEN SHIFT TO

i spent 15 days in the upper east side and now i have an existential crisis about my real life (but in a hawt way)

unlike my previous shifts, where i’d spend 10 minutes, maybe 20, dipping my toes into a life so much better than this one, i spent fifteen whole days in my better cr. fifteen days ago, i woke up in my king-sized bed with 1000-thread-count sheets and realised i had, in fact, won in life.

i had done it. no brief glimpse, no fleeting moment before snapping back to my real-world peasantry. fifteen days. enough time for a full socialite saga and to meet my beau!?!?!??! enough time to wake up in pyjamas which might as well been the most comfortable thing i've ever worn, hear the distant clatter of someone else in the other rooms, and stretch luxuriously as if i were in a renaissance painting. i could smell money in the air FOLKS!?!?!!!! not new money, but old money, the kind that sits heavy in the walls (!??!?!?), the kind that makes people say your last name like it means something. and this was my life. MY LIFE. at last. took it long enough.

the first morning, and you have to understand my main character syndrome for this, i stepped out onto the balcony, the manhattan skyline.....mhmhmhmhmhm....mhm. mhm. mhmm. stretching before me like a personal prophecy, and i felt it in my bones!!!!!!: this was home. MY HOME. okay. so. then i went around, you know, exploring my little room (not little...) and girl the moment i stepped in front of a mirror.......WHO'S THIS BABE???? yea. yea. i even had a cat !!!!

then i went to school. sorry, went, i mean DRIVE. now, here’s the dealio. i had scripted myself into this effortlessly put-together, socially untouchable, well-adjusted manhattan teen heiress life. but there were gaps in my logic. big ones. like, for example: i couldn't drive. i didn't know how to drive !!!

and yet, there i was in the morning in my super super super sSUPPPERRR cutesie school uniform, keys in hand, standing in front of a car (a Porsche, people, a porsche!!!) that looked like it cost more than my entire life back in my cr. so, i acted like i totally knew what i was doing. slid into the driver’s seat with the confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times before, adjusted the mirrors like i had a clue, and started the car.

and then? i picked up lily-rose depp.

(she's not an actress in this dr, by the way. just my best friend. which is infinitely cooler.)

she didn't even question everything. just said i looked really hawt today. i was blessed. seriously. like i'm typing this and also screaming i want to go back.

somehow. miraculously. i got us to school in one piece. st. lazarus international college. it looked like a cathedraland felt like a warzone. we pulled up alongside a line of obnoxiously expensive cars (not a single honda in sight!?!?!?!?), and i barely had time to breathe before stepping out onto the pavement, uniform pristine, COACH. MOTHAUFCKING COACH TOTE bag slung over my shoulder like i was about to solve world hunger instead of sit through calculus (that shi fucking sucked btw !!!! but my school's classrooms were drop dead gorgeous).

anyways. i now have to brush upon something that made me almost let out a humongous squeal when i saw him. CORIOLANUS. yes. yes. yes. yes. yes,ewfygweuvbuihweiusvbgiweu`rs. i saw him. yep. yep. i had to slap myself. metaphorically.

SO. i had scripted that on my first day, i would give coriolanus snow a nosebleed.

and !?!??!?!?!!?! IT SUCCEEDED. when i first saw him, he was leaning against a row of lockers like he owned the place and i swear to god i almost moaned. crisp white shirt, tie loose, cheekbones sharp enough to wound, eyes narrowed. pray.

HO. HE WINKED AT ME. and then i walked past him with my bfffffff lily-rose and. and. and. nosebleed. bro. bro. bro. BROSKI. the way he blinked..........the way his breath hitched just a little as the first drop of blood slid over his cupid’s bow. the WAY he tilted his head back, tongue darting out briefly over his lip. oh my god. i was actively fighting to not go and jump on him and like do vile disgusting things.

i had won the war, but at what cost?

because he was so hot.

SO FUCKING HAWT.

uh. so. yeah. that was just the first two hours of my better cr, and it was already putting my entire existence to shame. like, objectively, scientifically, undeniably better than anything i have ever done in my cr.

ssssoooooo. IF ANYONE WANTS TO HEAR MORE…do let me know. because, hands clasped, eyes glistening, heart on the verge of combustion, i am being so serious. this was the peak of my human experience. i have tasted divinity PEOPLE. i have lived too well. i fear i must go back, or else i will experience genuine withdrawals from the lack of my paramour’s face in my daily visuals.

so yeah. if you’re curious… hit me up. (evil, knowing laughter echoing into the abyss)

OH AND. whenever i'd go to sleep there i'd like cry out of fear that i'd wake up in my cr but whenever i'd wake up just...there...i'd literally pray to god. BECCAUSE EIJISEJFEWUSHFIHEJI. i'm there.

anyway, i am so not okay about this. i keep coming back to edit, rewrite, relive. but okay. listen. if you ever had even a sliver of doubt about shifting, i am kneeling right now, hands clasped, eyes wide with conviction, telling you!!!!!!!

SHIFTING IS SO FUCKING REAL.

it’s real in a way that defies logic, in a way that makes the air feel electric, in a way that rewires your entire understanding of existence. so real. so unimaginably real.

276 notes · View notes

starlighttsv · 2 days ago

Note

Can you please do a fox where Blakey is hurt or sick and Paige and azzi take care of her

Sick - p.b & a.f

💌 Syn: P & A take care of Blakely while she is sick

»»— warnings: poly! sickness, puke, hospitals, i.v, ect..

»»— notes: the internets the one that told me the fever thing and i know the internet lies so idk if that’s all true 🤷‍♀️ i also got carried away writing this but i gave up on proofreading lmao

»»— word count: 3.3k

»»— pair: pazzi x gf!oc || Blakely Doe

azzi and paige both woke up to the bed being cold, which never happens as blakely is always asleep in the middle of the bed between both of them.

so as you can assume they were both equally confused and even more so when they realized it was only 5:30am, when practice wasn’t until 8am and it was a saturday so the three of them didn’t have any classes today.

not to mention - blakely is NOT a morning person! she’ll sleep until 3pm if she doesn’t have anything going on that day

so blakely not being in bed and between them where she’s supposed to be was both confusing and concerning for the two girls

“where’s rosie?” paige rasps out to azzi with her morning voice while sitting up slowly on her elbows, using the nickname her and azzi have called blakely since they met “i don’t know” azzi says confused looking around the room for any sign of blakely

“here, you lay back down, i’m gonna go find her. “ azzi says already getting up starting to walk around the bed and to the door “are you sure? i can help look” paige rasps, slowly waking up more “i got it” azzi says looking back at paige “ok, if you need me, call for me. i’ll still be awake.” paige says laying back down on the bed

azzi nods to what paige said and then walks out of paige’s dorm bedroom and down to the living room / kitchen area thinking maybe blakely just wanted a late snack…nope

azzi looked everywhere for her in the small dorm and didn’t find her girlfriend anywhere - looked everywhere except for the bathroom, which honestly should’ve been the first place she looked

azzi makes her way to the bathroom seeing the door is shut but there is no light on, making her confused even more, rightfully so - blakely’s scared of the dark

azzi knockes on the door and gets no answer back making her slowly open the door and reach her hand in to turn on the light - only to see blakely sitting on the floor in front of the toilet with her head resting on the toilet seat looking to be asleep, azzi immediately runs over to blake while yelling for paige not caring about jana and allie still being asleep

“PAIGE! COME HERE!” azzi yells while pulling blakely off of the toilet and letting b rest against her legs, while azzi holds blake there making sure she won’t fall forward and hit her head on the toilet. paige comes running in and sees blake unconscious being held up by azzis legs and azzi of course, with her few day old straightened hair tangled up with puke all in her hair and all on her

“what happened?! is she ok?” paige stresses walking closer to her two girlfriends and kneeling down next to blake “i don’t know i just found her with her head resting on the toilet seat and unconscious” azzi says starting to stress but trying to keep it underwraps

“baby hey, blakely” paige says tapping blakely’s face a few times trying to get her to wake up - which didn’t work because blakely could sleep through anything including earthquakes and tornadoes

paige and azzi both try to wake blakely up and after a few stressful minutes eventually succeeded “hi baby, can you tell us what happened?” paige asks while holding blakely’s cheek - slowly rubbing her thumb over blakely’s cheek bone

blakely doesn’t answer and instead just closes her eyes and leans her face more into paige’s hand and her body more into azzi’s touch - finding their touch comforting

“mama hey, let’s get you in the bath and then we can go to bed alright?” azzi says leaning down some to make her be closer to blakely

blakely just groans in response not wanting to move at all knowing her stomach pain is gonna come back right when she moves

paige just stands up and turns the water on for the bath and azzi starts helping blakely get her clothes off, both ignoring her groans of protest and just continuing with what they were doing

“alright a warm bath with bubbles and a bath bomb is ready for you” paige says coming back over to blakely and azzi - helping azzi into lifting blakely up gently as to not upset her stomach

paige helped blake get her pants off while azzi held her up, and then azzi helped blake get into the tub and sit down.

“i’m gonna go get her some clothes” azzi mumbles to paige watching blakely immediately put her head on the side of the tub, paige nods signaling that she heard azzi and squats down by the tub, running her hand over blakely’s back “hi baby, i’m gonna wash your hair ok? i’m gonna need you to sit up for me, just for a little bit then you can lay your head back down alright?” paige says in a low tone, knowing that when blakely’s sick she always ends up getting super bad migraines, she doesn’t know if blake has a headache right now or not as blakely’s gone non verbal, so she’s just treating it like she does have a headache just in case.

blakely still doesn’t say anything, she just slowly lifts her head up, allowing paige to wash her hair.

while paige was washing blake’s hair, azzi came back in and set a pile of clothes and a towel on the sink, she then also squated down beside paige and started rubbing blakely’s back

“how are you feeling now baby?” azzi asks lowly but getting no answer in return “mama hey” paige says pausing her scrubbing and trying to make eye contact with blake - blake eventually turning her head slowly

“how are you feeling now?” paige re asks azzi’s question, with blakely only shaking her head side to side as her answer.

“do you think you can keep down medicine?” azzi asks still rubbing blakely’s back - once again blakely just shook her head side to side as a way of saying no

“is there anything you need or want?” paige asks as she’s now rinsing the shampoo out of blakely’s hair

blakely still doesn’t talk and just shakes her head again, paige and azzi look at each other for a minute concerned as blakely has never acted like this while she’s sick - she normally just is clingy and wants attention 24/7, making them realize she’s a lot sicker then she normally gets every once in awhile.

paige and azzi help get blakely clean, dried, and dressed before azzi has blake sit on the toilet so she can braid her hair, and get it out of the way in case blakely throws up again

while azzi was doing that, paige went back to the room and started up the tv, putting it on descendants - one of blakely’s favorite movies, and grabbed 2 small trash cans putting it on either side of the bed, knowing blakely’s still gonna want to be in the middle close to both of them

“alright there we go rosie” paige can hear azzi say from the bathroom down the hall, making her set down the water bottle she had just grabbed onto the night stand, and walk towards the bathroom

“you guys done?” paige asks as she sees blakely shakily walk forward “she’s gonna brush her teeth and then we’re done” azzi says trailing behind blakely in case she loses balance

paige nods in response “i’m gonna go make some coffee, figured we’re gonna be up for a little bit” she finishes while standing up from leaning against the door frame

azzi nods showing that she heard paige but kept her attention on blake. paige then walked to the kitchen making enough coffee for her and azzi, + jana and allie if they wanted any

paige could hear azzi helping blakely back into her bedroom and was trying to hurry with the coffee - just wanting to be with both her girlfriends and be able to comfort her sick girlfriend, so while the coffee was brewing she started preparing the mugs, putting sugar, creamer, all that stuff in and then pouring the coffee and stirring it together, once the coffee was done.

she grabbed those two mugs and carefully walked to her room, seeing azzi and blakely in their normal spots, with b’s head resting on azzi’s chest both watching tiktok off of azzi’s phone

paige just walked to the bed carefully giving azzi her coffee, before getting on the bed and under the covers - moving her free arm to lay behind blakely signaling to both of them to move closer to her - which they both do obviously

once they were all comfortable, azzi pressed play on the movie, blakely letting the sound of her comfort movie lull her to sleep.

sleep didn’t last long. she was able to get an hour & 30 minutes before she woke up gagging, paige immediately sat up from talking to azzi and grabbed the trash can putting it under blakely’s mouth just in time.

azzi rubs blake’s back while paige is whispering soft nothings to blakely - wanting to comfort her as paige knows blakely hates getting sick especially in front of people including her two girlfriends that she’s known for years

“you done?” paige asks after a few minutes of blakely just catching her breath, blakely takes a minute to decide and then nods her head slowly - making paige set the trash can back on the floor and grab the water from earlier, opening it, and handing it to blakely

while she was taking a drink, azzi decided to go get the thermometer and see just how sick blakely is,

“we have to get her fever down now or take her to the hospital. it’s way to high.” azzi says after looking at the thermometer once it beeped

“how high?” paige asks already standing up to try to help “101.2 if it gets to 103 or higher she’s definitely going to the hospital - if we’re not already there. i don’t care if we get in trouble for missing practice.”

“no, no hospital” blakely groans out trying to lay back down but can’t get comfortable. paige and azzi both moved closer and started trying to help blake get more comfortable

once they were done azzi sat at the edge of her side of the bed, putting her hand on top of blakely’s “we won’t take you yet, but if your fever doesn’t go down or it gets higher, we’re gonna have to. you already have a 101 fever baby. we will both be with you, i promise. you won’t be alone ok?” azzi tries to soothingly say as she knows blakely is also petrified of hospitals

blakely doesn’t respond to her and just turns to look at paige, using her doe eyes on her knowing those are paige’s weakness “i’m sorry mama, she’s right. you’re really sick baby”

blakely just huffs and tries to turn over onto her stomach so she doesn’t have to look at them - she struggles for a little bit and paige and azzi obviously voice their opinions but, blakely eventually succeeds in rolling over all by herself

“rosie-“ azzi starts but gets cut off “no” blakely responds back, already knowing what she’s gonna say and not wanting to hear those said words. paige and azzi both make eye contact behind blakely’s back and start lip reading each other - trying to figure what to do

“alright baby, if you don’t want to end up having to go to the hospital then we need to get your fever down by a lot, so cold wet rags and ice packs or a ice bath?” paige says putting her hands on her hips - looking at her stubborn sick girlfriend “neither” blakely grumbles into the pillow

“alright i’ll get the necessities for the hospital” paige said starting to walk out of the bedroom “no hospitals!” blakely yells into the pillow “ok then cold wet rags and ice packs or a ice bath?” paige sasses back

blakely groans into the pillow which ends up in a coughing fit making azzi who’s still sitting in the same spot, start patting her back to try to help her

once she was done coughing paige walked back to the bed laying down in her spot and looking at blakely “rosie look at me” paige says putting her hand on blakely’s back and gently rubbing her lower back while azzi’s still rubbing her upper back

blakely didn’t respond in any way making paige sigh “baby”

“mama, cmon” paige says but ends up more of demanding it, blakely slowly turns her head to look at paige and immediately made eye contact with her piercing blue eyes

“we just want to help you, you know that. we wouldn’t suggest the hospital if we didn’t feel like it was necessary. your fever is at 101.2 right now ok? if we can bring it down and keep it down then we don’t have to go to the hospital but if your fever gets to 103 and up we have to go, it’s not up for discussion.” paige starts and she can see blakely about to complain and starts talking again before blakely has the chance “you know we wouldn’t leave you alone there, i know you do. we’ll be right by your side the whole time ok?” paige says in a soft voice trying to get blakely to understand how serious her fever is.

blakely doesn’t respond for a minute, just looking at paige while thinking of a decision while azzi and paige both keep rubbing her back, blakely eventually nods her head “i’ll go if needed” she grumbles out “thank you baby.” paige says leaning in and kissing the top of blakely’s head “do you want to take a ice bath or..?” azzi now asks making blakely groan into the pillow again as she didn’t learn her lesson last time

after blakely’s done with her second coughing fit paige and azzi both manually roll blakely over, so that she can actually breath and so she can’t groan into the pillow anymore

paige and azzi both just stare at blake - wanting an answer, making blakely sigh and look between both of them “rags and ice packs i guess”

paige stands up from the bed saying that she’ll be back and walks out of the bedroom going to the kitchen to get ice packs, while paige is doing that azzi gets up to get cold wet rags

it’s now been almost two hours since azzi took blakely’s temperature and that whole argument. after paige and azzi put wet rags and ice packs all over blakely’s body all three of them ended up watching more movies until they all fell asleep - 2 of them fell asleep on accident and neither of them called geno telling him what’s happening

azzi woke up before the other two and was confused before she looked at the bed and saw her two girlfriends asleep on the bed - realizing that her and paige accidentally fell asleep which was fine until she also remembered the said fact that they didn’t call geno, making her scramble to grab her phone seeing multiple missed calls and unread texts from everyone on the team

azzi quickly sent a message to geno and cd explaining everything - which is what reminded her to check blakely’s temperature

104.3

“paige! paige get up” azzi says while shaking paige making her wake up startled “what? what happened” she groaned out “blakely’s fever is to 104.3, we need to get her to a hospital now” azzi says with urgency making paige sit up and look at blake realizing how pale she looks

both paige and azzi put there crocs on and wake blakely up - that was a mistake

right when they successfully woke blake up she immediately started gagging making azzi rush to put a trash can under her mouth, paige was rubbing her back as a way to comfort blakely but it wasn’t working and blakely couldn’t stop puking

after a few minutes of non stop puking and then dry heaves,blakely was finally able to get a break and during that break azzi put blakeys slides on her and grabbed the clean trash can for the car ride to the hospital

paige carefully picked up blakely knowing that blake would be walking slow to the car and then end up puking again before they made it to the car, so she was going to carry her

blakely lays her head on paige’s shoulder while paige follows behind azzi as she’s the one opening the doors for paige to get through with blake. once they reach paige’s car paige sets blakely in the backseat with azzi sitting back there with her - holding the trash can in front on blakely while paige gets into the drivers seat and takes them to the hospital

once they made it to the hospital they were checked in and seen pretty fast, now blakely’s laying in the hospital bed with an i.v in her hand asleep while paige and azzi sit in the chairs by the hospital bed, each holding one of her hands and watching whatever shows on their hospital rooms tv

the doctor put her on some medicine but still wanted to monitor her over night so they were all going to stay the night at the hospital, paige planned on getting food and going home to get clothes and necessities once blakely woke up so she could also have a say in lunch so they were just waiting on blakely, which after a few more minutes eventually started to slowly wake up

“hey rosie” azzi said with a low voice being the first to notice her waking up, making paige look to her side to also see blakely waking up “good morning mama” paige says even though it’s the late afternoon now, blakely just groans in response - the light in the hospital room blinding her and making her headache worse

azzi seems to understand what’s wrong and gets up to turn the light off, “better?” she asks sitting down in her seat making blakely nod “how are you feeling?” paige asks rubbing her thumb over blakes knuckles “like crap” blakely rasps out before going into another coughing fit

azzi pats blakely’s back while paige holds a bucket under blake’s mouth just in case - eventually she stops coughing and the two of them continue to talk to blakely, mentioning getting stuff from home and food

it’s now the next day, blakely has been released from the hospital with instructions to rest and to take her prescribed medication and she should be good in the next 3-4 days - which paige and azzi where going to make sure blakely listened and did everything she was supposed to do

they had just gotten back to paige’s dorm and azzi was helping blakely up to paige’s room while paige was carrying their shared overnight bag, food to eat now, and a few bags of snacks and soft foods for the next few days

jana and allie were out at practice for today so it was just the three of them for right now. while azzi was helping blakely get comfortable on the bed paige was once again turning the tv onto a disney movie - this time being lemonade mouth

once the movie was on she sat down on her spot of the bed and passed the food around.

after around 25 minutes they eventually found themselves in a cuddling pile with blakely in the middle and paige and azzi hugging onto her, rubbing her stomach, playing with the ends of her hair, or gently kissing blakely’s forehead while whispering soft praises of love to her, with eventually all three of them falling asleep in each others arms

that’s how jana and allie found them 2 hours later

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @ldapper @authentic-girl03

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn x reader #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers fic #azzi x reader #azzi x oc #azzi fudd x reader #azzi fudd x oc #paige x azzi #pazzi x oc #pazzi fics #starlighttsv’s works ✍️

182 notes · View notes

spiderb00 · 1 day ago

Text

- FAM OUT #5

Sophia Laforteza x reader fam/kids out masterlist

“on a quiet night, no one expected it, but something was wrong with Yoonchae. And now, you and Sophia will face it together”

Genre – fluff, angst? Warnings – no one knows who Evie is

Now playing – Unstable, by Justin Bieber Ft. The Kid LAROI

The moonlight coming through Yoonchae's window was the only thing that allowed her to see in the dark room, and even though it wasn't much, the maknae still didn't care. To tell the truth, Yoonchae wasn't even fully aware of where she really was. Was she at home? Was she at the Kats'? Was she at Yn and Sophia's? She had no idea. The pain and fever spoke louder than her thoughts.

Getting out of bed with some difficulty, Yoonchae tried to walk to the bedroom door. Holding her stomach, the younger girl moaned in pain, stopping walking and leaning on the bedroom walls for a moment.

“Mom...”

It was the only thing that echoed off the walls of Yn's house, all the rooms extremely quiet except for the moans and complaints of pain coming from Yoonchae's room.

“Mom, please...” Still without an answer, Yoonchae continued walking, opening the bedroom door and trying to walk down the dark hallway.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, you were resting your back comfortably on the counter, drinking water. Thirst had caught you in your sleep, and as quiet as the whole house was, you could have sworn you saw someone muttering something. Deciding to see if everything was all right, you left the empty bottle on the counter, Scooby following you faithfully while Max stayed in bed with Sophia.

Starting up the stairs, you heard another moan of pain, which sounded a lot like Yoonchae, and before you could even hurry, Max's bark echoed through the house, signaling that he had gotten up to investigate what was wrong, just like you.

“Mom...”

That was all you needed to hear to know it was Yoonchae's voice. Hurrying up the stairs, you found the girl at your bedroom door, slightly bent over as if in pain.

“Yoonchae?” You said, coming close to the maknae, putting your hand on her shoulder.

“Mom, please, my belly hurts.”

Not even having time to think about what the girl had called you, you put your hand on Yoonchae's forehead, seeing how burning she was.

“God, you're burning up with fever, Yoonchip.” As soon as you closed your mouth, the younger girl's body fell apart around you.

“YOONCHAE!”

Quickly taking the little girl into your arms, you opened the bedroom door, placing her in the empty space of the bed. Max and Scooby were barking, as if they knew exactly what was wrong in the room, and you quickly tried to wake Sophia without taking your eyes off Yoonchae.

“Sophia!” You tried, shaking your girlfriend lightly, and trying to keep Yoonchae awake. “Come on baby! Yoonchae, don't close your eyes!”

It was all too much, and you didn't want to panic. No, you had to stay calm.

“Mom, please, my belly hurts a lot.” Yoonchae said, her voice hoarse, like you'd never heard it before.

“I know baby, I'm waking Sophia up.” You said, trying to calm the girl down and trying to wake up the Filipina, who seemed to be very far from the real world in her sleep.

“Sophia!” Calling out once more, you moved a little away from Yoonchae, walking over to your girlfriend's side of the bed and shaking her harder.

“WAKE UP!” Stunned, Sophia woke up in a jump, seeing you standing next to her on the bed. Looking at the clock on the bedside table, Sophia narrowed her eyes, the digital clock reading 02:34 in the morning.

“Baby, we have a problem.”

Returning to the side of the bed where Yoonchae was, you grabbed the younger girl's forehead again, begging the heavens that her temperature was more normal.

“ Damn, she's still burning.” You said, putting pillows under Yoonchae's head and looking at Sophia. “Baby, Yoonchae's burning up with fever, I've been calling you for a while. We've got to get to the hospital,” you said, barely having time to breathe.

Quickly getting out of bed, Sophia finally understood what was going on. She took Yoonchae in her arms and felt her temperature with her hands.

“Mom, no hospital, please.” Yoonchae said to Sophia, making the older woman look questioningly in your direction, seeing you shrug and go into the closet to put on clothes other than pajamas.

“Stay down, baby. I'll be back in a minute.” Sophia said, leaving Yoonchae lying down and walking hurriedly towards you.

“She called me 'mom'.” Sophia said, as she entered the closet you shared, watching you take off your old hoodie and put on a more presentable sweater.

“I know, she called me that too, I think she's delirious with fever.” You said, finishing putting on your sweater. “We have to get her to hospital as soon as possible, baby.”

“I know. Can you take her to the car while I pack a bag with our stuff?” Sophia asked, putting on one of your sweaters and exchanging the shorts she was wearing for pants.

“I'll wait for you outside.” You said, giving Sophia a kiss and heading towards where Yoonchae was.

Carrying Yoonchae bridal style to the car, you gently placed the girl in the back seat of the car, trying to remember if she had eaten something wrong, or done anything that had left her in this state. You were stressed, you knew the girls were working hard for their comeback, but you didn't want to think of it as exhaustion, you didn't want to have to shout at anyone for overworking a seventeen-year-old girl.

“Mom?!”

“I'm here baby, it's okay. Sophia will be down in a few minutes.” You said, running your hands through Yoonchae's hair as you tried to get her to be quiet.

“Are we really going to the hospital?” The younger girl asked, her eyes downcast, and if you could, you would transfer everything she was feeling to you.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart, but your fever is too high.” You saw a small tear run down Yoonchae's eye, and wiping it away, you kissed the maknae on the forehead. “Hey, don't cry, I'm here with you.”

“Can I call Evie when I'm there?” Yoonchae asked, making you look confused. And before you could ask who 'Evie' is, Sophia was running to the car, telling you to drive.

“Sophia is with her, I just wanted to let you guys know what's going on.” You said into the phone, Yoonchae's parents on the other side of the line. “The doctors have given her some medication, just enough to bring down her high fever and they're investigating where the stomach ache is coming from, but it looks like it's just something she ate.”

Walking back and forth in the hospital hallway, you had your phone stuck to your right ear, Yoonchae's parents were calm on the other side of the line, a stark contrast to how you were a few minutes ago. Despite everything, their calmness made you start to calm down too, and thanks to the hospital, Yoonchae had stabilized and stopped “ delirious”.

“I trust you and Sophia, Yn. Just keep sending me updates and if she doesn't get better we'll buy the first plane ticket to Los Angeles.” Yoonchae's mother said, hearing your tired sigh on the other end of the line.

“I just... got scared. I try not to show it to Sophia, or to Yoonchae, but I was so scared.” You said, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Honey, you didn't do anything wrong. I know, it's scary, but it just shows me how much you care about my daughter, and I wanted to say thank you, to you and Sophia. Thank you for taking such good care of my Yoonchae. You'll be great mothers one day.”

A solitary tear fell from your eyes. Maybe life really was preparing you and Sophia for the future. Damn, you couldn't wait for the future.

“Now go and get some rest, and don't forget to text me.”

“I'll tell Yoonchae to call you when she gets better.” You said, starting to say goodbye to Mrs. Jeong.

Hanging up the phone, you leaned back against the wall, your head falling back against the wall as you let out a big sigh. It was 4:23 AM and you had never driven so fast in your entire life. You were tired, sleepy, but you were so relieved, Yoonchae was safe, and you would do it all over again if you had to.

Sitting in one of the chairs in the hallway, you waited. The doctor had said that it was best for only one person to go in with Yoonchae, and Sophia offered so quickly that you couldn't deny it. Just as your eyes were about to close, you heard the door in front of you open, and then close with a satisfying click.

“Her fever has gone down considerably, and the pain is gone.” Sophia said, taking a seat next to you on the left. “She finally managed to sleep, so I came to see how you were.”

Giving your girlfriend a slight smile, you grabbed her right hand, where the ring you gave her - when she was still at the Dream Academy - rested.

“I've called her parents, and also the Kats, everything will be fine.” you said, leaving a kiss on Sophia's hand, on top of where the ring rested.

“I know. When you're with me, everything works out. You give me strength, Yn.” Sophia said, lightly dragging the chair closer to you and resting her head on your shoulder. “I always manage to stay calm because you're always there to calm me down.”

Looking at your hands together, you thought about how much you loved Sophia, and that you wouldn't trade her for anything in the world. You hated things like that happening, but when you had Sophia by your side, everything seemed to soften, and that despair disappeared, you simply became a thousand times stronger when you were with Sophia. And while she thought you were her strength, only you knew that your strength actually came from her. It was inevitable, you completed each other.

“Do you want to see her?” Sophia asked, lifting her head from your shoulder before she fell asleep right there.

Shaking your head, you both got up, going to the room Yoonchae was in. Opening the door, you both tried not to make a sound, but failed miserably when the door creaked open and woke the younger girl.

“Sorry, baby. That was just the two of us trying to be discreet.” Sophia said, making Yoonchae laugh slightly.

“Hey, are you feeling better?” You asked, coming close and smoothing Yoonchae's mussed hair.

“Yeah, I don't know what that was about, but I hope I never have to go through that again.” The younger girl said, relaxing into your caresses on her head.

“Yeah, you gave us quite a scare. Do you remember anything?” You asked.

“I was very confused, but I know I called you both mom.” Yoonchae said, her cheeks immediately turning a shade of pink. “Sorry about that.”

“Yoonchip, you don't have to apologize.” Sophia says, reaching over and taking the maknae's hand in hers.

“It's just... I love you both very much, and you're always looking out for me. I just think I projected a bit...” Yoonchae said, putting her free hand on her face to cover her red cheeks.

“We love you very much, Yoonchae.” You said, taking the hand that covered her face. “You'll always be our daughter.” You said, in a playful tone, making Sophia agree.

“Thanks guys.”

“All right, how about I see if there's anything for us to eat for breakfast, huh?” You said, moving away a little to go towards the bedroom door.

“I'll be back soon, Fam.” You said, making a peace sign - which made Yoonchae laugh and Sophia sneer at you - before walking out the door.

And for a minute, thoughts of a family took over your mind, maybe you should start planning your wedding to Sophia, maybe look at engagement rings, it doesn't matter if it's too soon, you wanted everything to be perfect.

Taken by these thoughts and the whole situation, you forgot one important detail...

Who the hell is Evie?

Hi guys, how are you? I hope you're all well.

Evie is closer than you think!!!

I missed writing for Fam out so much, I wrote this chapter in two hours (I think). But I hope you all like it as much as I did.

Actually, the plot of this chapter came from one of my anons, <3 anon, here's the request, if you're interested in reading it.

<3 anon is a very frequent anon here on the blog and even helped me create Evie, so much love to this anon!

I feel like I've said too much, so I'll end here. I'm excited to write the next chapters, but for now I'm going to put off some other requests.

xoxo, spider.

#katseye imagines #katseye x reader #kpop gg #gxg #kpop fluff #sophia laforteza x reader #<3 anon #fam out #famout!yn #jeong yoonchae x fam out reader #spiderb00

161 notes · View notes

regressionschool · 1 day ago

Text

going full toddler: part 1

Marie had no idea what was coming.

She knew Steve had planned a weekend getaway, but the details were still a complete mystery. He had refused to tell her anything beyond the fact that she needed to be ready early in the morning. That, and the way he had smirked as he told her, "Don't pack anything. I've got it all covered," sent shivers down her spine—half excitement, half nervous anticipation.

She had suspicions, of course. Their dynamic had always included elements of CGL and ABDL, but usually, it was within the comfort of their home. This was something different. Bigger.

When Marie woke up that morning, groggy from sleep and stretching lazily in bed, she noticed something immediately—Steve was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, a warm but firm look in his eyes.

"Good morning, princess," he said smoothly. "Your husband isn’t here today. Just Daddy."

Marie’s stomach flipped, a deep blush rushing to her cheeks. She tucked herself under the blankets instinctively.

Steve only chuckled. "Oh, sweetie, no hiding. We have a long drive ahead of us, and I need to get my little girl ready. Sit up for me."

Marie hesitated, but that teasing lilt in his voice made it impossible to resist. Slowly, she peeked out from under the covers, her heartbeat quickening.

"That's my good girl," he praised, pulling the blanket away completely. "Now, let's get you dressed. No arguments, no fussing. Daddy has everything picked out."

And he did.

Marie watched as he pulled out a soft pink t-shirt with ruffled sleeves—one that barely reached past her belly button—along with a pair of shortalls that fastened at the shoulders. But what really made her squirm was the thick, crinkly diaper he held up, unfolding it with an unmistakable whoosh.

Her face burned. "D-Daddy…"

He only raised an eyebrow. "What’s the rule, little one?"

She swallowed, knowing exactly what he meant. She hadn’t been told the full list of rules yet, but she had been told one thing: this weekend, she was in full toddler mode. Steve—Daddy—was in charge, completely. The only way she could stop anything was with a single word: red.

And she wasn’t going to use it. Not when the butterflies in her stomach were from excitement as much as embarrassment.

Once she was powdered, padded, and dressed, Steve guided her to the vanity and gently pushed her down onto the stool. "There we go. Now, let’s get those pretty hair ties in," he murmured, combing through her hair with practiced ease.

Marie watched in the mirror, her breath catching as he gathered her hair into two high pigtails. With each careful movement of his hands, she felt smaller, sinking deeper into her little space. The final touch came with two pink bows, tied neatly at the base of each pigtail.

The sight of herself—diaper bulging beneath her shortalls, soft pink top, and those childish pigtails—made her feel impossibly small. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, the thick padding reminding her just how little she really was this weekend.

"Perfect," Daddy said, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "Now, let's get you buckled in."

Minutes later, she found herself in the backseat of the car, a sippy cup placed in her lap, her feet swinging slightly over the edge of the seat.

"Comfy, princess?" Steve asked as he adjusted the rearview mirror to catch her face.

Marie squirmed, the thick padding under her making it impossible to ignore her situation. She held onto the sippy cup with both hands, lips pursed. She felt so little already.

"Y-yeah…" she finally mumbled.

Steve clicked his tongue. "Excuse me?"

Marie sucked in a breath, cheeks heating again. "Yes, Daddy…" Marie’s face burned, but she couldn’t stop the excited, happy squirm that ran through her. The trip had just begun, and she had no idea what surprises lay ahead. But she did know one thing for sure—she wasn’t in charge. Not even a little bit. And she loved it.

"That’s my good girl," he praised before pulling out of the driveway.

The gentle hum of the car and the rhythmic passing of trees outside the window soon lulled Marie into a drowsy haze. The soft crinkle beneath her, the lingering warmth of Daddy’s praise, and the comforting weight of the sippy cup in her hands all worked together to pull her into a light sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out when a sudden beep-beep-beep cut through her dreams.

Marie’s eyes fluttered open, disoriented and groggy. The car was still moving, the scenery outside unfamiliar, and for a moment, she forgot where she was.

“Wha—?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes clumsily. Her pigtails tickled her cheeks as she turned her head. “What was that?”

Steve, still focused on the road, glanced at his phone, silencing the alarm with one hand. “Just Daddy’s reminder,” he said casually.

Marie blinked, trying to shake off the sleepiness. Everything still felt fuzzy, the world not quite making sense yet. “Reminder for what?”

Daddy smirked at her through the rearview mirror. “Well, first off—good morning again, sleepyhead.”

She pouted, cheeks warming. “M’not sleepy.”

“Mhmm. That’s why you were snoring a minute ago?”

“I don’t snore!” she whined, kicking her feet against the seat.

Steve picked up the full water bottle from the cupholder beside him and reached back, wiggling it slightly so she could see. "Time to swap out your water, little one. Let’s see that sippy."

Marie blinked, her grip tightening around her current bottle. Her cheeks pinked as she glanced down at it—only half-finished.

Steve raised an eyebrow, his voice playful but firm. "Uh-oh. Someone wasn’t drinking like a good girl."

A deep flush bloomed across Marie’s face. She quickly lifted the sippy to her lips and started sucking, desperate to make up for lost time. The moment the cool water touched her tongue, she realized just how thirsty she actually was.

Steve chuckled. "That’s it, sweetie. Such a good girl for Daddy, drinking all on your own."

The praise sent a wave of warmth through Marie that had nothing to do with the sun outside. She felt impossibly small, gripping the sippy cup with both hands and drinking as eagerly as she could, wanting more of that sweet approval.

By the time she finally lowered the cup, a tiny droplet of water escaped down her chin. She wiped it away quickly, trying to act casual.

Steve reached back again, palm open. "Let me see, princess."

Marie hesitated but handed over the now empty bottle. Without missing a beat, Steve unscrewed the lid and replaced it with the fresh one, tucking the used one into the bag he had stashed on the passenger seat.

"There we go," he said smoothly, placing the full sippy back into her hands. "Fresh water for my little one." Marie looked down at it shyly, feeling something melt inside her at the simple act. Then, as she shifted slightly, she felt something else—the thick padding between her legs pressing snugly against her, crinkling softly with even the smallest movement. The reminder made her squirm some more.

Marie settled back into her seat, her new sippy cup resting against her tummy. She peeked at Steve through the rearview mirror, her lips pursing slightly before she asked, “Daddy… can I have my phone?”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He let the question hang as he merged onto a highway, one hand steady on the wheel while the other tapped the turn signal. Then, he glanced at her reflection, his expression calm but knowing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk, shaking his head slightly. “Toddlers don’t have phones, remember?”

Marie blinked, sitting up straighter. “Wait… you didn’t bring it?”

“Nope,” he said simply. “Left it right on the nightstand where it belongs.”

Her stomach flipped. “But—”

“No buts, little one,” Steve interrupted smoothly. “You don’t need it this weekend. No checking messages, no scrolling, no big-girl distractions. Just you, Daddy, and lots of fun.”

Marie’s mouth opened, then shut again. The realization settled deep in her chest—she really didn’t have her phone. No notifications. No way to check the time. No way to zone out with a quick scroll.

For a moment, it made her feel weirdly exposed. Vulnerable. She wasn’t used to not having it, even when she was in little space. There was always an option to pull herself back into her normal, adult world if she wanted to.

But now…

Now, she really was just Daddy’s little girl.

She fidgeted, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of her sippy cup, eyes downcast. “What if I get bored?” she mumbled.

Steve chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re a toddler. Toddlers don’t get bored, they just find things to be curious about.”

Marie pouted, but when she looked up, she saw his raised eyebrow in the mirror, and her pout softened.

“Tell you what,” he said, his tone light but still dripping with authority, “why don’t you do what little girls do? Look out the window, watch the trees go by, play with your stuffie.” He nodded toward the soft plush bunny sitting beside her in the seat—another thing she hadn’t noticed he’d packed for her.

Marie huffed, crossing her arms dramatically—but deep down, her tummy flipped at how real this was starting to feel. No phone. No control. Just Daddy making all the decisions.

With a little sigh, she turned her head to the window, pressing her forehead lightly against the cool glass. The world outside blurred past—rolling hills, clusters of trees, the occasional glimpse of farmland. Everything felt so much bigger like this, like she was really just a little girl being taken on a big adventure with no say in where they were going.

Her thumb hovered near her mouth for a second, an old habit from when she was feeling extra small, but she quickly grabbed her bunny instead, hugging it close.

“There’s my good girl,” Steve praised, his voice full of warmth. “See? I bet you’ll notice lots of things outside that you never pay attention to when you’ve got your nose in that phone.”

Marie squirmed at the praise, cheeks warming.

Another hour passes, the steady hum of the car and the rhythmic scenery lulling Marie into a soft daze. She’s already on her third sippy cup of the drive, and it’s finally catching up to her. She squirms in her seat, the thick padding beneath her crinkling softly with every movement.

Steve, watching through the rearview mirror, can see the telltale signs—her knees press together, then apart, then together again. She grips her bunny tight, her fingers kneading at the soft fabric as she wiggles, shifting positions in a futile attempt to distract herself.

And then, she goes still.

For a moment, she clutches her stuffed bunny a little tighter, her breath catching. Then, just as quickly, she exhales, her entire body relaxing into the seat, the tension melting away. The only sound is the faintest sigh, almost imperceptible, followed by the softest, telltale crinkle beneath her.

Steve knows exactly what’s happening.

But he doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he keeps his eyes on the road, hiding his smirk as they continue on. A few miles later, he spots a small rural rest stop—nothing fancy, just a shaded picnic area and a few vending machines beside a winding trail. It’s the perfect place to stretch their legs.

“We’re stopping for a bit, princess,” he announces, pulling off the highway.

Marie blinks, startled from her dazed state. “Oh… okay.”

As the car rolls to a stop, she shifts again, and that’s when she really feels it. The once-dry bulk between her legs is now warm and squishy, pressing against her with every movement. She swallows hard, her cheeks heating up as the reality of it settles in.

But at the same time… she’s oddly glad for the break. A chance to get up and walk around, even if the thick, damp padding is impossible to ignore now.

Steve steps out and comes around to open her door. “Come on, little one. Let’s get those legs moving.”

Marie hesitates, then takes his offered hand, letting him help her out of the car. As she stands, the full weight of the soaked diaper makes her knees wobble slightly, the squishy sensation both foreign and familiar.

She chews her lip, looking up at Steve, but he only gives her a knowing smile. “Feels different now, doesn’t it?” he teases, giving her a playful pat on the bottom.

Her face flames, and she buries it against his chest with a small whimper.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes, stroking her back. “You’re doing so well for Daddy.”

Marie exhales shakily, letting him guide her away from the car. The walk is a welcome distraction, the gentle movement making her feel a little less self-conscious. They wander toward a quiet corner of the rest stop, Marie clutching Steve’s hand, occasionally stealing glances at him.

She doesn’t have to ask what’s coming next. She knows.

And sure enough, as they reach the car again, Steve gives her that look—the one that makes her tummy flutter.

“Arms up, princess,” he instructs gently.

Marie pouts but obeys, letting him lift her into the backseat. As soon as she’s settled, Steve reaches between her legs, pressing lightly against the front of her shortalls. The moment he does, her cheeks burn, and she squirms, but there’s no hiding it now.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his voice warm and proud. “Already nice and wet for Daddy.”

Marie whines softly, hiding her face behind her bunny.

Steve chuckles, ruffling her hair before pulling out another full sippy cup from the bag. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

Marie peeks over the bunny, pouting. “But Daddy…”

Steve tilts his head. “But what, little one?”

Her lips press into a thin line, but after a moment, she sighs and reaches for the cup. She knows there’s no getting out of it.

“That’s what I thought,” Steve teases, giving her a playful boop on the nose before buckling her in.

As he pulls onto the highway, he catches her in the mirror again. She has no idea how much further they have to go… or how much fuller that diaper is going to be by the time they get there.

#ab/dl diaper #diaper stories #ab/dl stories #regression school #ab/dl girl #wetting diaper #diaper bulge #ab/dl

160 notes · View notes

toomanystoriessolittletime · 2 days ago

Text

wake up call

Summary: Joel was looking forward to a blissfuly at least 10 hours of sleep after being on patrol non stop for a week. Confused after waking up after only a couple of hours he is beyond pissed once he finds out it's a lawnmower of all things that woke him up twenty years into the apocalypse. And he sure as hell is gonna let his neighbour know how he feels about that, no matter how good she looks in those leggings.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Wordcount: 2.2k

Raiting: T

Warnings: lawnmowers at 7 am, a very sleep deprived Joel Miller, yelling, yelling while naked, Joel being kind of a dick but making up for it, tension, flirting, one or two inappropriate thoughts, it's pretty tame tbh

follow @toomanystoriessolittletime-fics and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Full Masterlist // Joel Miller Masterlist

Joel was beyond exhausted.

With a group of raiders getting a little too close to Jackson than they liked, the last week had been non stop patrol with only little sleep.

But yesterday, finally, they had gotten the group taken care off and Joel had gotten home at 3 am, intending to not leave his bed until at least noon. He had checked on Ellie who was passed out asleep in her bed, the book she had been reading fallen out of her hands, now laying on the floor. He had picked it up, tucked her in and turned off the lamp on her bed side table, releasing a long, tired sigh as he made his way towards his room afterwards.

Within fifteen minutes he had taken a quick shower, making sure to use the blackout curtains he had found in the basement a month earlier, before he passed out in his bed, in a blissful, dreamless sleep.

A sleep that ended way earlier than he anticipated. With his eyes still closed, he turned from his belly on his back, eyes slowly blinking open with a frown.

The red digits of the clock on his bedside table glaring at him at 6:58 am (or whatever time it actually was. The satellite to the clock probably having died a long time ago)

He threw an arm over his eyes, slivers of light coming though his curtains, the day outside slowly starting while he wanted nothing more than to fall back asleep.

Why did he wake up?

Eyes dropping back closed, he was about to turn to his side, pulling his blanket up when he heard it.

A noise.

A low hum that he couldn’t place at first.

He searched his brain, the noise somehow familiar much like the annoyance that came with it.

A sound from another time.

A time where he also tried to sleep in, only for his little girl to climb into his bed, equally grumpy about being woken up by the same noise he was hearing now.

Back then it was the Adlers impeccable timing of mowing their lawn precisely at 7 am every Saturday morning, even though the could have done it any other day of the week. Still, instead of using the time they were at home all week while the rest of the population went to work, like clockwork, they would mow their lawn every Saturday at 7 am sharp.

„What the fuck?“ He whispered to himself, turning his head towards the window as if he could see through the curtain what was going on outside.

It was twenty fucking years into the end of the world, who was mowing their lawn at 7 am on his day off?

With a mood worse than when Tommy had crashed Joel’s first car before the outbreak he got out of the bed, naked as he had fallen asleep with a groan, stomping towards his window. He ripped the curtains apart, eyes squinting from how bright it was on this summer morning already when his eyes finally fell on who was the culprit in his sleepy plans.

You.

His new neighbour.

He had seen you in passing a couple of times since you got here.

Maria had told him you had fled from a year long capture of some slavers, urging him to take it easy on you and not be his usual asshole self with being new neighbours and all.

He had scowled all the way back home.

It had not been his fault that the men who had lived in your house before had been a fucking creep. He had to punch him in the face. Really.

Taking a deep calming breath he looked down towards your backyard now, his bedroom window facing it, giving him the perfect view on whatever the hell you were doing.

He noticed that the garden looked well taken care off now, not like the jungle like garden he had in the back of his house. You had cut down some trees, getting rid of some bushes. There were some flowers blooming close to the fence, but in the middle was you.

Wearing what looked like leggings and a baby pink tank top, pushing a fucking lawnmower through the knee high grass.

The picture was so foreign to him, he forgot why he was mad for a second.

It was the lawnmower throwing him off, of course. Or the way you seemed to have no idea how to mow the lawn in the first place, going through your garden in pure chaos.

It wasn’t you in that outfit that hugged every curve of your body like a second skin. It wasn’t the way he could see the sweat running down your neck even from how far away he was standing as you pushed the mower through your garden. And it definitely wasn’t how your ass looked when you bend down to reach for something, his cock twitching in interest he ignored.

No.

It was the fucking lawnmower.

Before he knew what he was doing he had ripped the window open.

„What the fuck are you doing? You want us all to get killed just to have an English fucking lawn?“ He yelled loudly, internally cringing at the way he saw you jump before your head snapped towards him. The noise of the lawnmower stopped and you brought one of your glove covered hands up to shield your eyes from the sun as you looked up.

He didn’t see the way your eyes widened to not only see him, but to see him as naked as the day he was born standing in his bedroom window.

„Good morning to you too!“ You yelled back and Joel felt a muscle twitch in his jaw.

„Stop this fucking nonsense, or I will,“ he said with a huff and now he saw you roll your eyes.

„Just so you know, I got permission to use it form the council. Fixed the lawnmower myself,“ you said almost proudly, your eyes finally drifting away from his impressive manhood, looking at his garden.

„Think your garden could use it too,“ you said, before you looked up at him again.

„I mean it, stop it, or I will,“ he warned before he closed his window and the curtains again. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, his breathing rapid as he tried to calm down, agitated about the audacity of the woman living next to him.

And what if she had the permission for this nonsense? But to do it at 7 am?

He released a long breath before he padded over to his little ensuite bathroom, doing his business before he got back into bed, intending to fall back asleep again when the noise outside started again.

He could let this go. Turn around, hide his head under his pillow and fall asleep.

Hell, he slept through much worse things since the outbreak started and even before.

Instead he got up, threw the curtains and window open and yelled:

„Get that fucking thing off!“

This time you didn’t even look at him. But you did react, holding one of your hands up, giving him your middle finger while you continued to mow the lawn, seemingly without any plan what you were doing.

„Fuck this,“ he hissed to himself, before he turned away from the window and searched for his clothes.

You were getting the hang of this thing, when you saw something move beside you. Turning your head around your eyes widened when you saw your neighbour walk towards you, this time dressed, but no less handsome.

Making sure to turn the lawnmower off you took a deep breath before you turned fully towards him, ready to argue with him some more when he held one of his hand up in surrender.

„Let me mow the fucking lawn so I can go back to sleep. I got home from patrol at 3 am. I just wanna sleep and I can’t do this with whatever it is you think you’re doing here,“ he said and your mouth dropped open in offence, ready to argue with him when you noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

You had heard about the group of raiders that had been threatening the town these last weeks. And you knew you neighbour Joel Miller, even though you hadn’t really talked to him before, was in charge of leading patrol.

And yeah, maybe it was a dick move to test the lawnmower at 7 am but the last week had been so hot and you had been so excited to finally got the permission to try it out, since construction was working outside of the wall today and would be able to keep an eye on anyone who could have heard you make this noise that you wanted to take care of this before the heat got worse.

„I’m…. It’s okay. I’ll stop. I didn’t realise….“ you stumbled over your words and Joel stepped closer, making your breath hitch as you tilted your head up to look at him.

„Please. As an apology. Lemme mow your lawn,“ he said, head tilted as he looked down at you with those big brown eyes and you felt yourself take a step back, almost stumbling over your own feet when he gave you a small smile.

Joel on the other side flexed his fingers as he walked past you before his hand gripped the handle of the lawnmower, knuckles almost turning white as he inhaled the soft scent of lavender you carried with you.

„I’ll…. I’ll get you some coffee,“ you mumbled and he raised one eyebrow as he looked at you, already feeling the sweat run down his back from the way the sun was burning down at him.

„You have coffee?“ He started the lawnmower and you nodded.

„Might make me less of an asshole once I had one,“ he joked, winking at you and you felt yourself smile while your cheeks flushed.

„That’s all it takes? A coffee to tame the asshole?“ You teased and his shoulders shook with a huff.

„I said might. Guess we gonna find out once I had it,“ he said before he turned his head from you and started going in straight lines through your garden.

And you watched him. Watched him as you walked inside. Watched him as you made the coffee. Watched him as you cut down a piece of the lemon cake you had made the day before. Watched him as he pulled at the front of his shirt to wipe away some sweat from his forehead giving you a nice view of the chest and the little trail of hair leading down towards his groin< you had seen earlier when he yelled down at you.

You set everything up on the small table on your back porch, thankful that it sat under a tree, giving you some shade.

Faster than you would ever been he was finished with the whole yard, rolling the lawnmower towards the little shed you had found it in before he walked towards your house and up to your back porch. He was sweating profusely and for some reason you thought about how it would taste when you liked it off of him.

Shaking your head you smiled thankful at him when he let himself sit down across from you, reaching for the coffee.

„Fuck, that’s good,“ he moaned after the first sip of coffee and you clenched your thighs at his tone.

„Good enough to get rid of the asshole?“ You asked with a smirk and he shook his head with a small grin.

„I’m sorry for yelling. I’d say I’m not usually like that but I’d be lyin’“ he said and you laughed.

„At least you’re honest,“ you said and he sighed, reaching for the piece of cake, before he almost inhaled it.

„Fuck, that was delicious,“ he groaned and you smiled.

„I’m glad. It’s a sorry and a thank you,“ you said and he nodded, before he got up with a groan.

„Just doing some neighbourly things. Don’t have the best track record with being a people person,“ he shrugged as he walked down your back porch.

„Still, thank you. You got it done much faster than I would and now you can go back to sleep and I promise I won’t wake you,“ you smiled as you followed him.

„Much appreciated, darlin’,“ he said.

You sucked your bottom lip in as you looked after him.

„Though if you feel the need to yell at me again, do it from your bedroom window again…“ You said and he turned to look at you, frowning.

„I enjoyed the view,“ you winked and it took a couple of seconds before his eyes widened, finally realising he had been completely naked and you most likely got a full view of his junk.

He gulped, before he hummed.

„That so?“ He asked and you nodded.

„I’ll keep that in mind, darlin’“ he winked with a small smirk, before he made his way back to his house where he took a shower and moaned your name as he jerked off thinking about what your body looked like beneath the tight clothes you had been wearing today.

Before he finally, finally got to bed and slept.

#my fic #joel miller #Joel Miller x fem. reader #pedro pascal #fanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction

173 notes · View notes

nameless-jamie · 3 days ago

Text

And they were Roommates...

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

9 pm. The knocking at Y/N's door was loud. Too loud. And too persistent for it to be anyone but Jamie Tartt.

She sighed, tossing her phone onto the coffee table as she made her way to the door. She was so close to ignoring it but knowing Jamie, he’d either stand out there all night or start texting her ridiculous things like I’ve been kidnapped or What if I perish in the hallway?

With an exhausted huff, Y/N pulled the door open. Personal assistant is a 24/7 job after all.

There he stood, his signature pout firmly in place, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and his hoodie damp like he’d just run through a car wash. His normally perfect hair was sticking up in odd places, and the scent of chlorine and something vaguely metallic clung to him.

She blinked. “Jesus. What happened to you?”

Jamie exhaled, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Fucking pipes burst, didn’t they? Whole place’s flooded.”

She turned to watch as he plopped his duffel bag on her floor and immediately started toeing off his sneakers right in the middle of the hallway like he lived here.

“Okay… but why are you here?”

Jamie gave her a look. “Where else am I supposed to go?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Y/N crossed her arms. “Maybe a hotel? You can literally afford to stay at The Savoy.”

Jamie scoffed. “Yeah, but that ain’t as fun as annoyin’ ya in your own home.”

She stared at him, unimpressed.

“‘Sides,” he added, flashing a more genuine smile, “you’re my PA, love. Pretty sure takin’ care of me is in your contract somewhere.”

She opened her mouth, ready to argue—but technically, he wasn’t wrong. Managing Jamie Tartt’s life was literally her job. His schedule, his bookings, his diet, and sometimes even making sure he remembered to do laundry like a normal human being.

She groaned. “Fine. One night. But if you so much as breathe weird, you’re out.”

Jamie smirked. “Knew ya couldn’t resist me.”

Day One: And the chaos begins...

Her mistake was thinking Jamie would behave.

Within an hour, her flat had transformed into a disaster zone.

His boots? Dumped haphazardly by the door. His duffel bag? Exploded across the living room. And somehow—somehow—he had already managed to use every single clean glass in her kitchen.

“Jamie,” she groaned, stepping over a random sock, “I didn’t realize letting you stay here meant signing up for a full-time babysitting gig.”

Jamie, currently sprawled across her couch under her blanket, flashed her a lazy grin. “This is what ya signed up for when ya decided to work for me, love.”

“I work for you, not live with you.”

“Semantics.” He waved a hand. Then, after a beat, he smirked. “Kinda nice, though, yeah? Like a married couple an’ that.”

She shot him a glare.

He only cackled.

Day Two: The Naked Incident™

She woke up way too early the next morning.

It took her a moment to remember why her flat felt off—why there was an extra presence in her space, why she could hear the faint sounds of movement from the kitchen.

Jamie. Right.

With a groggy sigh, she stumbled out of bed and padded toward the kitchen. Her brain was not functioning yet. She just needed coffee. Nothing else mattered.

Except—

She stopped. Dead.

Jamie was standing by the counter, casually buttering a piece of toast. Shirt on top. Nothing else.

Her soul left her body.

“JAMIE.”

He looked up, completely unfazed. “Mornin’, love.”

She slapped a hand over her face. “What. The fuck.”

Jamie blinked. “What?”

She gestured wildly at all of him. “Why are you NAKED in my kitchen?!”

He snorted. “Not naked. Got me top on.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“‘Course it does,” he argued, taking a massively casual bite of toast. “Top half’s covered. Bottom half’s—y’know—free. I get hot at night an— ”

She made a strangled noise. “Jamie. Put. Some. Pants. On.”

He smirked. “Why? You peekin’?”

She almost threw a dish towel at him.

Instead, she turned on her heel and marched out of the kitchen. “This is exactly why you should be at a hotel.”

Jamie called after her, still grinning. “Oi, if we were married, ya wouldn’t be so uptight about seein’ your husband in his natural state.”

She grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it at his head.

Idiot.... His ass is fuckin' phenomenal, though.

Day Three: The Honeymoon

She had no idea how this happened.

One moment, they were watching a movie. The next, Jamie was close. Way too close.

He was draped across the couch, arm along the back, body turned toward her in a way that made the air feel different. His knee bumped against hers, and his stupid cologne was messing with her ability to think straight. They were freaking cuddling on the couch aka Jamie's current bed.

Then, he turned his head toward her, voice softer than usual. “This is nice.”

She swallowed, face beet-red. “Yeah. Kinda cozy.”

Jamie’s gaze flickered down to her lips, and suddenly, the air shifted.

Thick. Heavy. Loaded with something unspoken.

His eyes searched hers. Daring. Waiting.

And then—he smirked.

“Kinda romantic, yeah?” he teased. “Like it's our honeymoon, just without the sex. I mean doesn't have to be—”

The moment shattered.

She groaned, shoving him away. “Oh my God, GO TO BED.”

Jamie cackled. “Sweet dreams, missus Tartt.”

She threw a pillow at him. Again.

Day Four: Maybe, just maybe…it ain't so bad.

By the time Day Four rolled around, she had officially lost control of her own flat.

Jamie had taken over every inch of her space—his socks scattered around the floor, his duffel bag still wide open, and somehow, his ridiculous number of protein bars had migrated into her kitchen cabinets like they belonged there.

She could handle all of that. She could even handle the way he walked around half-naked and left his stupid expensive (sexy) cologne smell lingering on her couch.

But what she couldn’t handle was the way he was making it too easy.

Too easy to get used to. Too easy to imagine him sticking around.

And that thought? That was dangerous.

Because Jamie Tartt wasn’t hers.

She was his assistant. This was temporary.

Right?

So why did it feel like something was shifting?

Jamie was still a slob. A slob that cared... He can't seem to pick up his socks but does the dishes every night. He's so bad at cooking, but he makes her the best damn coffee every morning.

That night, everything came to a head.

It started with an argument.

A stupid one.

She’d been exhausted, running on fumes after a long day of sorting out his schedule, making calls, and handling things she probably should’ve let him deal with himself.

So when she got back to the flat and saw Jamie sprawled on the couch, feet kicked up like he didn’t have a single care in the world, something inside her snapped.

“Do you ever clean up after yourself?” she blurted, tossing her bag onto the table.

Jamie blinked up at her. “What?”

She gestured wildly. “This! All of this! Your boots, your socks, your ridiculous protein bars in my cabinets—Jamie, you’ve turned my flat into your personal playground.”

Jamie sat up, frowning now. “Alright, what’s this really about?”

“What do you mean?”

He tilted his head. “You ain’t mad about the boots. You’re mad about somethin’ else.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m mad that you act like this is normal. Like we—like you’re supposed to be here.”

Jamie stared at her for a long moment.

Then, his voice softened. “And what if I enjoy being here with you?”

Her stomach flipped.

She shook her head. “Jamie—”

“I really like bein’ here,” he admitted, standing now, his expression serious in a way that made her breath hitch. “I like wakin’ up in the morning and seein’ you walk out all grumpy ‘cause you ain’t had coffee yet. I like makin’ you laugh when you’re tryin’ real hard to be pissed off at me.”

She swallowed. “That’s—”

He stepped closer. “And I like sittin’ on that couch with you, watchin’ shite movies, even when you’re yellin’ at me for leavin’ crumbs everywhere.”

Her heart was pounding.

Jamie reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Gentle. Careful.

“I don't know, feels right, doesn’t it?” he murmured. “Like I belong here. With you. Near you.”

Her breath caught.

She could feel it—the moment balancing on a knife’s edge.

The air was thick with something dangerous. Something inevitable.

She could step back. Laugh it off. Pretend like this wasn’t happening.

Or—

Jamie’s fingers traced down her jaw, his eyes locked on hers.

“Tell me I’m wrong Y/N and I'll be out that door, no more socks on the floor, no more coffee in the mornin',” he whispered.

She didn’t.

She couldn’t.

Instead, she did the only thing she could—

She closed the gap and kissed him.

#jamie tartt x y/n #roy kent #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt imagine #ted lasso show #ted lasso #jamie tartt #sam obisanya #afc richmond

95 notes · View notes

ribbonsncherries · 2 days ago

Text

The Contract

Warnings: Lots of smut, P in V, Oral (both m and f receiving), BDSM!, Sexual Assault, Stalking, Angst, Alcohol mentions, Dominant and submissive plot, Virgin user, mentions of drugs.

Chapter 2

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x inexperienced! User

Summary: When her roommate and work partner gets sick, she is in charge of interviewing famous billionaire businessman Dean Winchester for his new bar's grand opening which leads to a passionate and tumultuous affair where she discovers his dark sexual desires, marked by control and dominance. The one catch? He doesn't do romance.

Based on the trilogy Fifty Shades of Grey.

(4004 words)

Divider credits: @dollywons, @anitalenia, @selysie

“I’m home!” (y/n) shouted as she threw her purse and work bag on the couch, she took off her coat and hung it up, “Jessica come out here I got some good news!” (y/n) heard the ting on her cellphone, she looked at it for a good minute before she began digging through her small shoulder bag to see Dean had texted her.

‘Let me know any information regarding tomorrow, Goodnight Ms. (l/n).’

“God what is it…” Jessica mumbled wiping slobber from the side of her mouth, she looked like she just woke up from a long nap. “Make love to me or something 'cause you’re gonna love me even more.” (y/n) smiled. “So Dean came by my office and-” Jessica’s eyes widened immediately before running up to (y/n) “WHAT! You’re lying! What did he say?!”

(y/n) laughed “Well he heard about your problem with the photos so, he’s asking you if you want an original photo for Runway tomorrow?” Jessica stayed quiet, “(y/n), If you’re fucking with me you’re out of this house.” She said pointing at her. (y/n) lifted her phone to show Dean’s number. “Just tell me and I’ll let him know right now, he does want to know by today…” she smiled. Jessica jumped for joy while she squealed. “Oh my god! Ok, tomorrow at around 7 AM,” she said immediately running to her room with her computer to prepare for the next day, although it was last minute Runway was more than happy to ask their photographers to take pictures. This included one of their photographers ‘James’. (y/n) got ready for bed and cleaned up her things from the sofa. She collapsed on her bed and covered herself with her sheets. Before she closed her eyes to sleep she texted him.

‘Hello, Mr.Winchester. Sorry for the late message. Thank you for doing this for Runway, I was I was just wondering if tomorrow at 7 a.m. would be a good time for you to come to our studio.’

‘Yes, of course, that’s a good time for me. After the shoot do you want to grab some breakfast?’’

(y/n) didn’t know what to say or think, all she knew was that she was stunned, she took one more glance at the text and saw it was real. He did ask her out for breakfast. Was he interested in her? Or was this a business casual thing? She began typing away at her phone.

‘Sure, I would love to thank you :)’

‘Good night Ms. (l/n), see you tomorrow.’

(y/n) felt like she released a huge breath. She couldn’t believe this at all, the billionaire man every girl wanted, asked her for breakfast. “Holy shit” she sighed out before covering her face with a pillow in disbelief.

The next day (y/n)’s alarm rang out at 5:00. She was confused, she set her alarm for 6:00. “Wake up! Rise and Shine!” Jessicas shouted out from her door. She came into her room and opened the curtains to the morning dawn. “You’re insane.” (y/n) mumbled as she turned around. Jessica went to her side grabbed (y/n)’s sleeping mask and snapped it back on her face. (y/n) immediately got up and dragged Jessica down to her bed “What the fuck?!” she shouted while Jessica just laughed “That never gets old! C’mon sleepy head get ready, you’re gonna see your rich boyfriend.” she teased. (y/n) threw her stuffed elephant at her. “Shut up,” she mumbled as she removed her sleep mask and ran her hand through her face and hair. Jessica warmed up some coffee for her and (y/n) in their assigned mugs. As (y/n) stood in the shower, she could only think of his rough voice and his biceps that were underneath his flannel when he came into her office. As she washed her hair the warm water made her suddenly flinch as she thought about his rough hands around her waist, and thighs, Kissing her softly. Before she was about to release a moan “(y/n)! It’s 6:00! We have to get to the office by 6:30!”

“Shit!” she shouted. She quickly washed the soap out of her hair and turned off the shower. She dressed in casual flared jeans, Dr. Martens, and a nice comfortable shirt just enough to barely show cleavage. Jessica made two sandwiches and handed (y/n) her bottle of coffee. They quickly scrambled to their car and made their way to the Runway Headquarters. (y/n) and Jessica looked out the window to see a slick 67’ Chevy Impala parked in the private garage. “Woahh,” they said in unison. As they began getting out of the car (y/n) took a good look at the sleek black car. “C’mon (n/n) James just messaged me he’s here already.

James began taking pictures of Dean. He was in his usual Black Tux with a gray tie, his hair combed out and messy, just the way he liked it. He was standing normally and looking into the camera while James was taking the pictures but he couldn’t help but look over James to look at (y/n) who was only a mere feet away from him with Jessica. “Thanks again for doing this Mr. Winchester,” Jessica exclaimed blowing her nose in the distance. Dean looked at her for a moment and nodded his head “I’m happy to help.” he said. James looked through his camera and realized Dean had a straight face the entire time. He looked up at him and saw he was looking at (y/n) “Uh..how about we try one with a smile this time?” James said with his smile to try to encourage him. As the flashes continued Dean’s facial muscles didn’t move an inch ‘’right…guess not.” mumbled James.

Jessica leaned into (y/n)’s ear “You realize that his eyes are literally glued to you. He hasn’t stopped looking at you.” she whispered. (y/n)’s lips slightly curved to a smile “He asked me to go for breakfast after the shoot.” She whispered back and cleared her throat. Jessica smiled and teased her with a slight nudge and giggling.

When they were finished Jessica went home on her own since (y/n) was getting driven by Dean’s assistant Benny. James went up to (y/n), “I kinda need to thank you too, This is gonna look great on my portfolio.” (y/n) smiled at him politely, “Of course, anytime for me and Jessica’s favorite photographer.” James laughed awkwardly, “Are you doing anything later?”

While James was talking with (y/n) he felt his jaw clench at the scene so he went up to them and stood next to her “(y/n), we should start heading out.” (y/n) looked up to him confused “Now?” she asked. Dean nodded his head before he saw her saying goodbye and giving him a friendly hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow James.” She smiled. Dean gave him one last look before catching up with her.

“Is he your boyfriend?” he asked her. (y/n) looked up at him “Who?”

“The photographer.”

(y/n) laughed like it was a joke “James? He is a very good friend and long-time co-worker of Jessica and me.” She put it simply as she continued walking with him. “I saw the way he was looking at you,” he said in a rough voice as he began unbuttoning the first two buttons of his dress shirt. “He’s more like a family friend you’d invite to a barbeque.” she scoffed. When they walked to the parking garage (y/n) stopped dead in her tracks as Dean walked towards the Impala. “That’s yours?” she asked shocked as she caught up with him. “Yes, family car that’s been with me and brother for years.” He said. (y/n) smiled at the sight “Wow, it’s a beautiful car.” she sighed. “Thank you.” She was confused when she saw him open the door for her and looked around the garage. “I thought Benny was going to drive us?” She asked. “No, he’s on his day off, I’ll drive you.” (y/n) got in the car and Dean closed the door, walked to the other side, and got in the driver's seat. He whipped out his keys and turned on the car making the engine purr. (y/n) smiled to herself when she ran her hands along the interior of her door. Dean smiled small when she wasn’t looking and began taking the car out of the parking garage.

“Here you go, is there anything I can get you both?” asked the waitress. Dean looked at (y/n) for a quick second before he shook his head, “No thank you, we’ll call if anything.” he said. The waitress nodded as she walked away. (y/n) smiled before looking up from her food to his eyes, “Thanks for this by the way.” she said as Dean started eating his pie. He noticed that she was trying to pretend everything was good and cool but he could see the small hints of red in her cheeks and ears, and her jaw and shoulders were tensed. “You seem nervous?” he said as he took a bite of his pie. (y/n) laughed a bit. “Well this is my first time with a businessman and you seem intimidating.” Dean scoffed as his lips curved to a small smile. “Not to mention very high struck,” she added on. Dean looked at her and observed more of her body, “I'm used to controlling things and getting my own way.”

“That must get pretty boring easily.” she smiled. Dean scooted her plate closer to her “Eat.” he ordered. (y/n) dug her knife into the small batch of pancakes and drank some orange juice that was beside her. “Tell me more about you. What’s your family like?” he asked. (y/n) stopped chewing for a minute and continued once his words were processed and she swallowed. “My family? Well, My dad is out of the picture in my mom’s life since she doesn’t like him very much. My mom and stepdad live in California, I have a little sister named Flora who lives with them over there, I try to see them at least twice every year. I’m rambling aren’t I?” she laughed softly. “I’m sorry.” she apologized. Dean smiled a bit “It’s alright, I did ask about the topic, didn’t I? Tell me more about your father.” He asked. (y/n) smiled, “he liked music, especially romantic ones, he was always that sappy guy when talking about my mom when they were together.” she smiled remembering. Dean looked at tightening his grip around his cup of coffee. “Are you one?” he asked her. She looked up at him confused “Am I what?” she smiled.

“A romantic?”

“Well, I’m a writer for a gossip magazine, sometimes I have to be.” she smiled. His smirk went down a bit. “Thanks again Jessica is so beyond ecstatic and-”

“I have to go, I can’t do this..” he mumbled, he got up from his chair immediately “What?” she questioned softly. “I’ll walk you out (y/n).” Did she do something wrong? Did she say something that somehow upset him? These thoughts in her head were everywhere, As Dean paid for the bill (y/n) had enough of waiting for him so she just walked out. “(y/n). (y/n), I’m sorry but-”

“Do you have a girlfriend or something?” she asked. Dean looked at her “I don’t do the whole romance hand-holding girlfriend stuff.” (y/n) rolled her eyes in annoyance as she walked to cross the street. “What the fuck does that eve-”

“Watch out!” he shouted, a speeding car had almost hit her, he grabbed onto her arm and pulled her into his chest on the sidewalk. She looked into his eyes as his piercing green eyes looked into hers. His rough hand grazed upon her cheek as she rested her face on his hand. “(y/n) You need to listen, I’m not the man for you, you need to stay as far back from me as possible,” he said with a low rumble.

“Dean wha-”

“I have to let you go…” he said. He took his hand off her face as she backed away from him. She looked at him one more time with an angry expression. “I don’t understand, but I’m tired of this, whatever this is anyway. Bye, Mr. Winchester,” she said as she crossed the street. Dean’s eyes followed her every move as she crossed the street until she disappeared when she reached the end of the block.

As another few weeks passed by, The article about Dean in the magazine made a hit making this month's issue one of the biggest ones yet in Runway. (y/n) was working on a few finishing touches on a new article she was working on with Jessica, a small beep rang from her desk phone. “Ms. (l/n).” Jenna rang on her desk phone. (y/n) clicked the button to answer. “Hey, Jenna. What’s up?” “Castiel wants to see you quickly,” she said. (y/n) was a bit in a mood but this was her boss she couldn’t say no. “Send him in, thanks Jenna.” Castiel came in with a big smile on his face. “There is one of my two heroes! Since our department finished the article and the photographers did that photo shoot we are partying tonight at the new Winchester bar and you are one of the VIP guests for making this happen.” (y/n) smiled and shook her head. “I can’t, I don’t do parties or bars; it’s crowded everywhere, and there is always some couple having sex that occupies the bathrooms,” she said putting her pen to her bottom lip from habit. “But this is Winchester Elixers, this is not one of those cheap bars you and Jessica go to. It’ll be fun.”

Castiel could see her facial expressions on not wanting to go, “Listen it’s fine if you don’t want to but, it’ll be fun. Hope to see you there,” he said with a warm smile. He said as he began walking out of her office. The more (y/n) thought about it the more she wanted to go, after this whole dean situation she needed to be let off some steam, even if it was at his bar he opened up. “Cas!” she said walking to her doorframe. Castiel turned around “I’ll go.” (y/n) smiled. Castiel looked beyond happy, “You sure?” he asked. (y/n) nodded her head as Castiel smiled even bigger with his eyes. “I’ll see you and Jessica tonight,” he replied as he walked down the hallway.

“Ok, you’re putting on too much this is a lot even for me.” (y/n) said, Jessica was putting on a tremendous amount of blush since apparently the amount (y/n) put on was too little. “God Jessica ’m not a tomato.” (y/n) laughed. “Well, I'm sorry it was bothering me it looked like you had just two circles on your cheeks.” She joked, (y/n) grabbed a makeup wipe took off the excessive amount of blush, and left little on her cheeks. They both looked at each other in the mirror as they released a deep breath “We deserve this” Jessica sighed, and their doorbell rang, “Huh, he’s early.” Jessica mumbled assuming it was James who wasn’t going to drink that night and was their driver. While she went to get the door, (y/n) began putting on her lip liner and lipstick to complete her nice basic look. “Package!” Jessica shouted. (y/n) immediately ran to the living room assuming it was Jessica’s. Whenever either roommate got a package they opened it together for fun. “I hope it’s those shirts I ordered a while ago,” Jessica said as she looked at the address. “To (y/n) (l/n).” Jessica took out the note paired with the giant box as she gave it to (y/n). “Echoes of emotion, and the visions of a fool, echoes of forbidden ground’-”

“And it’s too good to be true..’, that’s Fleetwood Mac, Love is Dangerous.” (y/n) said while confused, she opened up the box to reveal an unopened copy of the first print of Rumors that was originally made in 1977. (y/n)’s hands started shaking when she saw a purple and black shawl, this could only belong to the Stevie Nicks. She immediately put it down along with the album carefully. “This has to be from Dean, this is too much, he’s fucking insane I'm sending this back,” she said. Jessica pulled her aside as (y/n) put down the box, “No, (y/n) you’re not sending them back, if he wants to chase you he can go right ahead, don’t feel obligated to send shit back just cause he bought them, if I were you I would fucking keep it, hell if he pulled some shit as he did to you weeks ago I’ll resell it.” Jessica spoke with confidence to her friend. (y/n) nodded as she put the box in a safe space. “Let’s just forget him and go to this bar and have fun 'cause we worked our asses off, we deserve this.” (y/n) nodded once more and smiled. A honk beeped out the window. “That must be James, we should probably get going.”

The bar was crowded, of course, people were dancing and grinding on each other. People were drunk and just having fun. Castiel welcomed (y/n) and Jessica and offered them drinks. It had a current party atmosphere and was fresh, brand new, and open to the public. (y/n) and a group of her co-workers gathered around a table surrounding shot glasses with Tequila in them. (y/n) had already had a few to deal with the anger she still had for Dean, especially since she was at his bar. “Shots! Shots! Shots!” They shouted. “Drink all of it ya’ll!” everyone in that group drank the tequila shot but still a little lingered in (y/n)’s throat which caused her to cough and laugh drunkenly. (y/n) laughed and laid her head on James’s shoulder “I gotta pee!” she shouted hoping her message would follow through the loud music. She stumbled through the crowd to the long line leading to the bathrooms. She took out her phone to Dean’s contact and as she was about to delete it she smirked to herself and was going to give him a piece of her own mind.

Dean however was doing paperwork in his office and heard his phone ring. He saw who it was and he was confused. “You ok?” Sam asked who was sitting across from him. Dean looked up to his younger brother and got up from his chair. “I’ll be right back give a second.” He said before walking away. “(y/n)?” he answered.

“Yup, It’s me (y/n), sooo I have that album thanks and a shawl that works perfectly fine ‘m sendin' them back, actually no ima resell em. But thanks a lot,” she slurred. Dean furrowed his eyebrows confused “You’re welcome, sweetheart where are you?” She laughed through the phone, “Don’t call me sweetheart, ‘n its none of your business to know where I am~ I’ll tell ya anyways ‘m in line cause I have to use the little lady room~” she said. Dean could hear the music and laughter through his phone, “(y/n) have you been drinking?” he asked sternly. She giggled through the phone once again, “Yeah~ so what? You little Mr. Fancy Pants.” she laughed. (y/n) looked over towards the girl next to her in line, “What a bossy guy huh?” she asked. Dean cleared his throat “(y/n) Listen to me, I need you to go home right now.”

“Oh my god~ you’re so so bossy in the first half it’s “(y/n), do you wanna go to breakfast?” She giggled as she made her voice low and gruff like his, “(y/n), do you wanna got for breakfast? No, sweetheart stay away, I don’t need you, sweetheart. Get away~” she laughed. “That’s enough, tell me where you are right now,” he said sternly.

“‘M not tellin’ you shit, but I’ll tell you I'm far away from you like you wanted~” She slurred out, “(y/n) where are-” she hung up her phone and sighed, she looked to the girl next to her once more and smiled, “I showed him huh?” she asked. His phone rang out again to see Dean calling her. She answered the phone, “Listen I had enou-”

“I already know where you are I’m on my way.” (y/n)’s giggling stopped “wha- Hello?” He hung up this time on her. She looked at her phone and rolled her eyes. And looked to the girl once more.”People need to stop interrupting me I swear.” When she was done using the bathroom she stepped outside to get some air from the crowded bar. “(y/n).” someone called out. She turned around and saw James holding her sweater. “Here it’s freezing outside.” James helped her put on her sweater. “Thanks,” she said. “You ok?” he asked her. She nodded her head.

“Yeah just never really been this drunk in a while ‘n it’s cold so~” James grabbed her arms and clung her to him. “Here let me keep you warm.” He said. (y/n) tried pulling away but she was too drunk to “No it’s cool I'm good James thanks.” James looked at her flushed face and pulled her closer, “I don’t know when I’ll be able to do this again, (y/n) I like you.” She was confused and dizzy at the same time “Wha? No you don’t” she said. “Yes, I do, very much.” (y/n) scrunched up her face “No~” James grabbed her arms a little tighter to prevent her from getting away “What are you doing, stop, no, no, no.” James began kissing her while she hit him still drunk. A sudden punch to the face hit James, “She said no!” (y/n) knew that voice anywhere. “Dean?” before she said anything else she puked in the parking lot and crouched. Dean immediately came up next to her and grabbed her hair away from her face as she puked. “Don’t look at me,” she said embarrassed. Dean looked away to James who was backing away inside. When she finished she leaned on his shoulder while he gave her his handkerchief that had his name embroidered to wipe her mouth on. “C’mon sweetheart let's get you home,” he said. She looked up at him and wiped her stray hair away from her face, “But I’m with Jessica~” she said. “Sam will tell her.” He said.

“Who’s Sam?” she asked. “My brother, he’s inside telling her right now.” Dean took her hand and led her inside to get her things. When they got inside they both saw Sam and Jessica dancing together to the music playing Dean went up to Sam and whispered something, he then bent down a little to Jessica’s height to tell her what was going on, she then whispered something back to Dean before he came back to her, “What did she say?” she asked. Dean smirked “She warned me if I tried something stupid she knows a place to summon a demon.” (y/n) laughed as she started moving back and forth. “The world is spinning…why are you spinning?” she mumbled as she fell back and Dean wrapped his arms around her preventing her fall. He held her head to prevent it from falling back, he carried her bridal style, placed her in his impala carefully, and buckled her up. They made their way to the hotel he had still stayed in for the past few weeks. Waiting for her.

Taglist: @applelovesposts @ladykitana90

A/N: yurrr, the tag list is open! So am I writing the next one instead of doing my assignments? yeah, I'm doing that. First of all, the love for the first chapter omg, I freaking love you guys. and to the new followers, welcome! I'm happy you're here and already interested in my book I'm eternally grateful for you all! Currently, the tag list for this book is open! So message me or go to my inbox to let me know if you wanna get tagged. Thx so much for all the love and support for this book. Until we meet again!

89 notes · View notes

venomhoundfanworks · 2 days ago

Text

Hazbin Hotel - Breakfast

I heard someone use a pickup line along the lines of; "How about I have you for breakfast?" I thought it was both hilarious and got... strangely inspired from it? So here I am writing a Lucifer/Reader story using it as the prompt. (๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑)

Summery: You wake up to wonderfully melodic Lucifer cooking you a breakfast fit for a king. However, food is the last thing on your mind with how the beautiful angel before you keeps sensually moving his perfect body without realizing it...

Check out my other writing on my masterlist >>HERE<<

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; reader's genitals are not mentioned; no use of y/n; oral sex, male receiving; crying during sex; Lucifer protests a bit at the start but don't worry he is super into it and its all consensual (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

It was one of those mornings. Sleep attempting to drown you. Your mind cloudy as if you hadn't rested at all. It took awhile for you to fully wake up. But even before you did, the back of your mind knew something was wrong. Something was off. You instinctively reached for your partner, before you realized the problem.

He wasn't there.

Even in your foggy state, you started to grow concerned. Lucifer was not one to leave the bed without morning cuddles and several kisses (at the very least). If he left at all, that is. It was more accurate to call him a ‘bedbody' instead of a homebody. It wasn't until you started to get out of the bed that you smelt the wonderful aromas now filling the house. Ah, thats where he was.

You smiled to yourself as you quietly approached the kitchen. You could hear Lucifer’s singing even from down the hallway. Days like this were rare; when he woke up in such a jovial mood. But when it did happen, it made all the bad days worth it.

And today was certainly going to be worth it. You could tell by the way you were greeted by the adorable sight of Lucifer, who was still in his duck pajamas, wearing a very classic red and white heart apron. Your amused smile turned into a loving grin as you leaned on the archway, fully taking in the sight before you.

Lucifer was completely in his own head at the moment. Buzzing to and fro the entire kitchen, making three separate things at once. You highly doubted he would have noticed you come in, even discounting his morning singing and little dances around the room. You had to admit, the view from where you stood was nice. Lucifer mostly had his back turned to you, and the apron he wore accentuated his waist nicely. His ass always looked nice; but the red of the apron drew the eye and seemed to frame it perfectly.

Part of you felt bad. Here Lucifer was, making a three course breakfast for you. A experience fit for actual royalty. Yet you were too busy leering at him to care or even pay attention to what he was making. But the other part of you had to admit the truth; even if you were paying attention, you would have no idea what he was making. You were neither a chef nor royalty. Anything past eggs or pancakes was beyond you.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you noticed Lucifer clearing down. It amazed you how efficient the angel could be when he wanted to. His decades, maybe centuries, of practice showing in how fast and precisely he put things back in their rightful place. Yet, his usual air-headedness also showed in how he simply dumped everything that was even kind of dirty into the sink to be dealt with later. You held back a chuckle, watching Lucifer grumble as he attempted to wash his hands in the now over-flowing sink. Guess it was now or never...

“Good morning, Luci.” You felt your face start to burn and you tried to subtly clear your throat. That came out much more… husky then you intended.

Lucifer must have really been in his own world. He visibly jumped and squeaked when you spoke. But as soon as his eyes landed on you, his entire being relaxed and softened. A loving, dopey grin taking over his face. “Good morning, Duckie! I made breakfast~”

His love for you was infectious. You felt yourself returning the look as you made your way across the room. Lucifer sidestepped, quickly drying his hands on a nearby towel. You wrapped your arms around the cheerful angel, hugging him from behind and resting your head in the crook of his neck. Lucifer hummed and swayed gently; nuzzling up into you and placing his hands upon yours.

The moment was serene. The moment was perfect. You would have loved for it to last forever.

But as it stood, you had a very happy; very beautiful; very handsome man in your arms. One who was sensually rubbing his ass against you without realizing it. After a few moments, you began to feel a familiar heat rising in your chest. Once again, Lucifer was completely lost in the moment; snuggling up against you. Unaware of how your eyes started to drink in his form; his still sleep tussled hair; his exposed neck…

That was what did you in.

“I missed you in the bed this morning…” You practically purred. You kissed and licked at Lucifer’s jawline. Judging by the way the angel went from practically limp in your arms one moment, to completely rigid the next; he had finally caught on. You chuckled against his skin as Lucifer let out a surprised whimper, unintentionally lolling his head back and exposing even more skin. You took the opportunity to latch onto his neck, drawing out a rather hapless, breathless cry.

Your grip on his waist tightened. Now locking his body to yours. One of Lucifer’s hands went to brace himself against the counter, while the other went up to your head as if to push you away. But when you bit down on his neck, Lucifer seemed to change his mind. His claws gripping at your hair instead.

“Oohhh-Duckie…” Now that wouldn’t do. ‘Duckie’ was your ‘cutesy’ name. The petname Lucifer used when one of you was being adorable or he was overcome with love. He never used it in the throes of passion. Clearly, you needed to try harder. You continued nipping at Lucifer’s neck, while one of your hands began to snake its way under his apron. “Duckie-Darling…” There it is.

Lucifer’s mind had started to grow cloudy once he felt your fingers on his thigh. Once you began to palm his half-hard cock, he was gone.

“Ah! Ahh-oohhh… Please-” Both of Lucifer’s clawed hands now gripped at the counter for dear life. The sudden jolts of pleasure from your hand were like raw electricity right to his brain. “Darling…” Lucifer pleaded. You were sure it was intended to be a protest, but it sounded more desperate then anything. “Its early…”

Lucifer squirmed pathetically in your hold. He made no attempts to escape but was trying his absolute hardest to not thrust his hips into your touch. Which resulted in him grinding backwards against you instead. You didn't even think Lucifer was aware of what he was doing to you. So focused on his own dick…

“Oh…oohh…” Lucifer looked down at your hand disappointedly when you stopped rubbing him through his pants. But you felt his whole body tense in excitement as he realized your hand was instead now clumsily working to free his cock. Ever the impatient man, Lucifer quickly brought his own hands down to assist you in undoing the buttons of his sleep pants.

Lucifer threw his head back against you and cried out when you finally touched him; immediately setting a slow, steady pace meant to drive the angel mad. His claws were right back against the counter; bracing himself against it like you were actually fucking him. Like he could collapse at any moment. “W-wha-what’s gotten into you..?”

Despite his attempts at verbal protest, Lucifer’s traitorous body melted into you and his breathing quickly grew ragged. You worked his shaft with steady, practiced precision; and Lucifer was a weak man ready to break.

He turned towards you and attempted to gasp out another excuse, “We-we haven’t even had breakfast yet-ahHHH-!” Lucifer interrupted his own words with an arch and a cry; ripped from him as you suddenly swiped your palm over his leaking head.

You hummed in fake thought as his hands now desperately reached back and grabbed at you. One of them latched onto the bicep of the arm that was currently pumping him. You loved the way you could feel his claws tremble. “What if I wanted you for breakfast?” You gave a toothy grin as you heard Lucifer gasp. If it was even possible, the glow of his yellow blush grew even deeper and was now spreading down his chest. He must have really liked that idea, going solely off the way you felt his cock jump in anticipation.

Lucifer whined and pleaded, arching up to chase your touch as you pulled your hands away. Desperate cries of please, please, please poured from his mouth unrestrained. But they were cut off with a yelp as you hoisted the small angel into your arms.

Lucifer immediately wrapped his lithe arms around you, his mouth moving to kiss and lick at your neck. You wondered for a moment if it was vengeance for earlier. But quickly disregarded the thought. You doubted Lucifer could think that far at the moment.

Luckily, you didn’t need to carry him all the way to the bedroom. You had the perfect spot for this, since Lucifer had yet to set the kitchen table...

You gently detached Lucifer from your neck and laid him down on the beautiful, ebony table. Lucifer did little to resist you. His eyes clouded with raw lust, and his claws moving on their own to brace themselves against the wooden surface above his head. His half-lidded eyes followed you as you circled the table like a predator. Stopping once you were able to lecherously look down upon him from in between his legs.

Your face was starting to hurt from how wide you were smiling. But you couldn't possibly help it. Not with Lucifer, the King of Hell, the Sin of Pride; sprawled out and limp on the table below you like an actual meal. Like he was the lamb being offered to a hungry god on the face of an alter.

Lucifer's face was blush stained and his eyes were pleading. Part of you wanted to tease him and make him beg, but the other part of you wanted to overwhelm him until he broke. Lucifer knew he was completely at your mercy too, with the way he trembled under your hot gaze as your eyes dragged over the sinful display he was making. You swore you could hear the faint sound of scratching against wood as your eyes roamed. Lucifer looked away in embarrassment when your eyes finally settled on his cock.

A lustful growl erupted from your throat. The apron did little to hide Lucifer’s cock; standing nearly perfectly upright, at proud attention. You could feel Lucifer’s anticipation in the air as you lifted the apron up to bunch against his waist. Quickly, you finished what the two of you had started earlier; removing his pants and tossing them carelessly to the side.

His cock was gorgeous. Subtle curve, with a wonderfully flared head. Precum dripping steadily from the tip. In that moment, you made your decision.

You were going to overwhelm him.

Lucifer let out a absolutely obscene sound as you took as much of him into your mouth as you could in one go. You heard the -CRACK- of Lucifer’s restraint snapping; the sound of his claws breaking into the surface of your once flawless table. Instinctively, Lucifer’s trembling legs spread impossibly wide for you. Your grip on his thighs tightened as you locked Lucifer in the new, wonderful position he had put himself in.

“Ah-AH-ahhh…” Lucifer’s moans had become more of a chant as you mercilessly sucked him down. There was no easing into it. It was just suddenly all tongue and throat and oh god, how did he get this lucky?

It was too much. It was not enough. Lucifer’s claws dug deeper into the wooden table, undoubtedly leaving discernible grooves of his fingers now. Lucifer felt like he was hanging on for dear life as he screwed his eyes shut, a few overwhelmed tears escaping. His entire torso twisted and writhed underneath you while his legs shook uncontrollably. He was desperate for more. He was desperate to get away. Yet, all his squirming did nothing with the iron grip you had on his pelvis.

But just as quickly as you had descended on him; you were gone. The only sound Lucifer was able to make was a protesting, wanton whine. It was as if you had sucked the very air from his lungs, leaving him panting and out of breath. Lucifer’s lust fogged eyes fluttered open to look into yours. To see why you had stopped.

“Lucifer?” You said his name so sweetly. So… unfitting of the lewd position you two were currently in. Him, spread eagle on the table in front of you; an apron the only thing hiding the shameful sight of Lucifer’s weeping, twitching cock from his own eyes. You, absentmindedly rubbing Lucifer’s inner thighs with your thumbs as you kept him spread nice and wide; the innocent look on your face betrayed by a smear of precum on the side of your mouth.

Lucifer swore you had to be an angel in that moment. Someone destined for heaven but sent here for him. Just for him. “Y-yes, Dove?”

You placed a gentle kiss to the side of his knee before smiling at him tenderly. “I love you.”

It was as if those words, those three simple words, set every nerve ending inside Lucifer alight. He simultaneously felt too aware of his own body, and as if you had suddenly knocked him out. Lucifer felt his heart stutter and skip when the words were uttered. Then each rapid pound against his ribcage that followed. But his mind was being drowned by the echoing of rushing blood. Not to mention the heat that Lucifer felt suddenly burning him from within.

“Ooohh…” It was as if the words themselves had granted Lucifer physical pleasure as he arched off the table and groaned. “I love you too…”

You gave a pleased smile before promptly returning to your previous position, taking the entirety of him into your mouth once again.

Lucifer thrashed as he brokenly cried. Maybe your words really did set his nervous system on fire. Everything felt so much more intense now. Lucifer’s eyes were wide, yet unseeing. His vision cast in a blurry haze due to the overwhelmed tears that were now streaming down his face. “Oh god, I love you.”

He didn’t last long. You knew he wouldn't either with his convulsing body and delirious declarations of love. Lucifer arched off the table, screwing his eyes shut, nearly screaming as he came. His legs shook violently and he tried in vain to spread even wider as you drank him down.

Lucifer finally went limp. Gasping for air like it had been knocked out of him. He whimpered and convulsed from oversensitivity when you pulled your mouth off him. Lucifer had cum so hard that you couldn't possibly swallow it all; leaving a coating along the side of his dick and a rather scandalous trail on the side of your face. But you paid it no mind as you went to dampen a nearby washcloth so you could clean up your lovely angel.

It took a few moments for Lucifer to gather the energy to sit up. Still leaning on his arms heavily as you returned to the table. Lucifer stared at you with complete adoration as you wiped him down. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the involuntary twitches and gasps Lucifer let loose as you cleaned him. Lucifer softly kissed your forehead, then gently brought his hands up to cradle your face as you finished.

His eyes gazed into yours lovingly. His thumb stroked your cheek, swiping away some of the cum that was left there. “So beautiful…” He murmured; making your heart skip. Even with your debauched face, Lucifer still saw you as perfect.

You had to kiss him. You couldn't resist. Lucifer met you in the middle, for a passionate, yet surprisingly chaste kiss. But you were reminded for a moment of what a devil the man in front of you actually was. When you parted, his serpentine tongue flicked out across your cheek; cleaning your face of his own spend. Lucifer laughed and licked his lips. Enjoying his own taste.

You were frozen. Ironic; considering the burning blush that had now taken over your face. Lucifer lent forward, resting his forehead against yours as he affectionately grinned.

“How about we have a real breakfast now?”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

AN: Some details that either didn't make it in or I took out because they ruined the flow:

Lucifer is singing in a “language you can’t understand”

Lucifer’s pajamas are those like button-up type pajamas. They are slightly too big so they bunch up around his ankles, he can hide his hands in the sleeves, and he can do that flappy thing with them (YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT EVERYONE HAS DONE IT). But yeah just overall comfy vibes with it

The apron is like one of those stereotypical 50s housewife heart aprons lol

I might draw a picture of the pajamas and apron at some point.