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lubdubology · 1 month ago

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Take My Love and Wear It

SYNOPSIS: Taking care of Charles has its own special challenges, but you didn’t expect the hardest one to be the man who hired you. Distant, gruff and rough around the edges, Logan still manages to worm his way under your skin. But you’ve worked your way under his, too.

PAIRING: Old Man Logan x fem!reader

WC: 10.8k

WARNINGS: smut 18+; mdni; angst; swearing; non-explicit mentions of wounds, blood and use of stitches; extreme physical pain; Charles is a lovable, meddling little shit; fluff sprinkled in for good measure; Logan in a tub (if I had a nickel for every time I bathed him, I’d have two nickels—which isn’t a lot, but its weird it happened twice, right); touch-starved Logan; handjobs; shower sex; fingering; dirty talk; oral (f receiving); sex with feelings; unprotected p in v; creampie

A/N: There’s something special about Old Man Logan, isn’t there? Old and grumpy and desperately in need of some love and affection. I know the Charles caregiver story has been done before, but I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. And then Charles starting talking in my head and well...it blossomed into this. As always, thank you to @joelsgoldrush for allowing me to send her snippets of this as I went along and offering her love, support and suggestions. I hope you enjoy this and any likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

You stare down at the remnants of yesterday’s cold and congealed dinner and sigh. Scraping the food into the trash, you resist the urge to pack everything you have and leave.

One month.

One month of helping Charles—making his meals, washing his clothes, giving him his meds, making sure he doesn’t hurt himself (or others), assisting with daily tasks—and Logan still regards you as a nuisance, like a gnat needing to be swatted away.

At best, he ignores you, moving around the house as if you don’t exist.

And at worst, he treats you with barely concealed contempt, his scowl deepening the lines of his face whenever he’s around you. As if you’re invading his space uninvited even though he’s the one that sought out help.

You grip the edge of the sink, staring down into the porcelain basin as if it holds some hidden answers. Every day you’ve tried to break through walls Logan’s built around himself, held onto Charles’ promise that eventually he’ll soften, just give him time, but he only seems to have grown more hostile. And you’ve done nothing to incur his ire besides watching him come home every day battered and bruised, his very bones weary with exhaustion, and offering your assistance.

Part of you is angry—angry that you care so much when your main focus is supposed to be Charles. Angry that despite all his efforts to come across unapproachable and cold, Logan’s worked himself under your skin and takes a little piece of you with him whenever he leaves.

Angry that somehow he’s stolen a piece of your heart.

You hear shuffling behind you and turn to find Logan entering the kitchen, fingers fastening the last buttons on his dress shirt. “What?” he asks gruffly and for a moment you wonder if he can read your thoughts.

You straighten and meet his gaze head on, swallowing down your nervousness. “How much longer are we going to keep doing this, Logan?”

“Doing what?”

“This,” you say, gesturing between you. “You walking around here like I’m some stain upon your life, acting like I’m a problem when all I’ve ever done is try and help.” Your voice is steadier than you feel. “You asked for me to be here, Logan. It’s not like I barged in here without permission.”

Logan holds your gaze, his jaw tight, and for a moment you think he’s going to grab his keys and leave, head off into the night and drive until sunrise. His eyes soften for just a moment, something like regret crossing his features.

“I know why you’re here. And I do…appreciate it,” he says, his words coming out low and rough. As if the words taste foreign in his mouth.

“Wouldn’t kill you to show it,” you challenge.

You’re waiting for him to lash out and instead he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not good at this.”

“I’m not asking you to bow at my feet,” you say, hoping to ease some of the tension in the air. “Although, I wouldn’t be mad about it.” You think you see the briefest hint of a smile flicker across his face. “I just want us to be able to live in the same space. I’m here to help, Logan. Let me.”

“You have no idea how hard this life is.”

A rueful smile tugs at your lips. “I understand more than you think I do.”

Logan’s gaze sharpens, inquisitive as he searches your face, as if he’s trying to decipher the meaning behind your words. He rubs a hand across his face, scratching lightly as his beard. “I’ve gotta couple jobs tonight. Maybe more,” he finally says, changing the conversation. “Should be back before sunrise.”

You nod, his switch in topic not lost on you, but you don’t push him. “Alright,” you say softly. “Just—just take it easy, okay?”

He glances down at you, relief softening his gaze and you know a part of him is grateful you didn’t push further.

Grabbing his keys, Logan heads towards the door but pauses just before he’s about to leave. He turns to look back over his shoulder. “Thanks,” he murmurs, the word awkward on his lips.

You give him a small nod of encouragement as he slips out the door. He may not be ready to full open up, but you feel as if he extended a tiny olive branch tonight, cracked open the door just enough to let you peek in.

+++

Over the following weeks, Logan’s a little less avoidant. He doesn’t go out of his way to make conversation—you didn’t expect him to—but he at least as acknowledges your presence. Small nods and murmured goodbyes when he leaves and sleepy hellos when he returns. It’s not much, but you’ll take it.

You’re cleaning the last of the dishes from dinner, Charles safely settled in front of the TV watching an old movie when Logan comes home. He’s earlier than you anticipated, but exhaustion lines his face nonetheless. You expect him to slip away quietly, but he pauses instead, lingering in the doorway.

“Smells good,” he says softly, nodding towards the pan of half eaten lasagna still sitting on the counter.

Surprised, you turn around to face him. You brush the hair from your face and say, “Sit. I’ll make you up some.”

Logan hesitates and for a moment you think he’s about to decline, but then he nods, his shoulders dropping slightly as he sits down at the table. You fix him up a plate, setting it down in front of him with a bottle of beer as you slide into the chair across from him.

He tucks quietly into the food, his fork scraping against his plate as he eats, pausing only to wash it down with a few swigs of beer. You watch him, a strange satisfaction tugging at you at the sight of him actually sitting down, enjoying a meal with you, even if it is in silence.

“Long day?” you ask quietly, gesturing towards his bruised knuckles.

He flexes the fingers on his free hand before tucking them under the table. “Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he mutters, taking another bite of lasagna. “They’ll be gone in a day or two.”

You know not that long ago an injury like that wouldn’t have even marred his skin. Now, the simplest of wounds can take days to heal and it’s not the appearance of his skin that bothers you, but the newfound ache he experiences, the heaviness of constant pain.

You want to help him, ease his discomfort, like you know you could. But you know he’s not ready for that. Not yet.

“You’re good with Charles,” Logan says then, his gaze steady on his plate. “He seems calmer around you.”

Logan’s admission is so unexpected, you find yourself staring at him in disbelief. At your silence, his eyes flicker up to yours and you see more than simple acknowledgement in his expression. It’s subtle, but it’s there, a current of something more, something you’re not quite sure how to address.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice softer than you intended. “Charles—he means a lot to me.” You pause briefly, but something compels you to continue. “You both do.”

His gaze is focused on you and you don’t miss the flicker of surprise that breaks through his usual stoic expression. Clearing his throat, he looks down, pushing around the last bit of lasagna on his plate and then after a moment, he sets his fork down and leans back in his chair. “You mean a lot to him, too,” Logan finally says and you wonder if he’s talking about more than just Charles.

From the living room you hear Charles call for you, his voice soft but insistent. The moment between you still crackles as you stand from the table and as you begin to walk away, Logan reaches for your hand. His fingers are warm and rough against your skin and you’re barely able to suppress your shiver.

“Thank you,” Logan says, his voice surprisingly soft.

His grip against your skin is gentle, a stark contrast to all his roughness and you can feel the weight of his unspoken words curling around you. Charles calls again, his voice breaking through the moment, but Logan’s hand lingers just a beat longer before he lets go, fingers trailing along your skin.

+++

“He likes you, you know.”

You glance up from shaving Charles’ face and find him staring at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. You give a soft hum. “Did he tell you that or did you read his mind?”

Charles scoffs and waves his hand dismissively. “What’s the difference, dear?”

You chuckle, shaking your head as you rinse the razor. “With Logan I’m pretty sure there’s a big difference.”

“Bah, if Logan wanted to keep me out of his head, he would. Stubborn man.” He tsks softly to himself and shakes his head. “But, no my dear, he can be quite loud if you know how to listen.”

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful look. “Loud, huh? And what exactly is that brain of his telling you?”

Charles gives you a knowing smile. “Oh, just little things,” he says casually with a wave of his hand, but you can tell by the look on his face that he’s holding back. “He notices you—what you do for me, this place, for him. He may not realize it himself, but his thoughts linger on you more often than he’d like.”

A flicker of hope sparks in your chest and despite yourself, you feel a blush creeping into your cheeks. “Logan doesn’t strike me as the sentimental type.”

“Logan has spent so much of his life running,” Charles continues, his tone and expression growing more thoughtful. “The loss he’s experienced has led him to believe it’s better to be alone than form meaningful connections with people. But you’ve somehow become something of a home for him. And he doesn’t quite know what to make of that.”

Your heart skips a beat as you take in his words. The idea of being a home for Logan, a comfort, feels surreal, and yet...there’s a part of you that dares to hope what Charles is saying is true. That this isn’t some fictional truth his brain has concocted, a product of his disease riddled mind.

“Home.” You repeat the word softly to yourself, testing the word on your own tongue as if it might shatter into pieces.

Charles nods, his hand reaching for yours, his gaze warm and knowing. “Yes, home. He feels it, deep down, in a way that’s unfamiliar and frightening for him.”

You glance down at your hand in Charles’ grasp, his touch grounding you as his words settle over you.

“Logan’s spent so long hiding from himself,” Charles continues. “I think he’s convinced himself he doesn’t deserve that kind of peace.”

“And you think I can give him that peace?” you ask quietly, your eyes flicking back up to Charles’ face.

He smiles knowingly and gives your hand a squeeze. “You already have, dear.”

+++

“Want some help?”

You turn to find Logan standing in the entrance of the kitchen, hands tucked into his pockets.

It’s a rare night—one where Logan’s chosen to stay home, taking a night off from the almost endless driving he does. He’s dressed down, well worn jeans and a button-up flannel, and for once you actually think he looks comfortable.

You smile, surprised, but happy to see him there. “Sure, the company would be nice,” you reply as he comes to stand next to you. “Want to wash and dice the potatoes?”

Logan nods and rolls up his sleeves before reaching for the bowl of potatoes you had set aside earlier. You watch him for a moment as he settles into the task with a quiet focus.

“Smells good,” he comments, gesturing towards the oven. “What’re we having?”

“Charles has been asking for beef tenderloin for weeks now, so I’m finally indulging him.” You finish trimming the last of the green beans and toss them into the bowl beside you. “You know, if you have any favorite meals you’d like me to make, you can tell me.”

Logan pauses and glances at you as he shuts off the tap. He clears his throat and says, “You already are.”

You blink in surprise as Logan’s words sink in and then the realization dawns on you. A soft smile spreads across your face as you piece together the extent of Charles’ meddling. You can’t find it in you to be annoyed and only feel a mix of amusement and fondness towards the old man as you chuckle softly to yourself.

“What’s so funny?” Logan asks, raising his eyebrow as he catches your expression.

“Oh, nothing,” you say, waving him off with a smile.

Logan doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t pry as he picks up the knife and begins to deftly dice the potatoes. You watch him for a moment, captivated by the simple domesticity of the task. It’s in direct contrast to the man you’ve seen numerous times before, brooding and gruff, brimming with an almost untamed violence.

It suits him, you think, this quieter version of himself.

You both finish the prep with relative ease. He helps you set the table as the rest of the food cooks, plates clinking softly as he sets them down. You busy yourself with finishing the green beans in a garlic butter as you wait for for the tenderloin to rest enough to carve into.

“Ah, my dear, this smells wonderful,” Charles announces as he rolls into the kitchen, a warm smile on his face. “And you managed to pull Logan out of his room. What a treat.”

Logan snorts in response, giving Charles a pointed glare.

“I dare say it’s because the company has improved much as of late,” Charles says, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he glances between the both of you. “We all know he’s not out here for my benefit.”

You laugh as you bring the dishes to the table, noting the faintest of blushes creeping along Logan’s cheeks. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Charles.”

“As you should, dear. Your personality is quite sparkling.” He looks over towards Logan. “Isn’t it, Logan?”

Logan’s eyes land on you as he answers, “Yes. Yes, it is.”

Dinner begins quietly, the three of you settling into easy conversation as the first few bites are consumed. Both Charles and Logan hum in delight and a warmth blooms within you watching them both. This—this is the simplicity you’ve been craving with Logan.

As the meal continues, Charles launches into his usual repertoire of stories, those of the school and his students, his words brimming with nostalgia and pride as he talks. Logan sits back in his chair, arms crossed as he listens to him speak, shaking his head fondly at some of the memories.

“You know,” Charles begins, setting his fork down with an air of mischief, “I don’t think I ever told you how I met Logan, have I?”

Logan’s head snaps up. “Don’t, Chuck.”

But Charles is already smiling at you, ignoring Logan’s warning. “It’s a good story, dear. See, Logan had quite the career as an underground cage fighter.”

You lift your brows in surprise and you glance over at Logan, who’s thoroughly unamused by Charles’ choice of topic. “Cage fighting, huh?” you ask, unable to suppress your curiosity.

Logan shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stabbing at his potatoes with a little more force than necessary. “It wasn’t a career,” he mutters. “Just a distraction. Way to get by.”

“Mmm, yes, perhaps,” Charles chuckles, clearly enjoying himself. “Regardless of the reason, it lead you to this exact moment. Didn’t it, Logan?”

Logan narrows his eyes at Charles, though the glare is only half-hearted. “You make it sound like all it all had some grand purpose.”

“Did it not?” Charles says gently, his tone shifting into something more serious. “Kept you alive, for one. But more than that, it brought you to us. To me.” He pauses for a moment, his eyes darting towards you. “To her.”

The words hang in the air and you glance over at Logan, whose expression softens just slightly. Without thinking, you reach across the table and give his forearm a gentle squeeze. His eyes meet yours, a flicker of a smile tugging at his lips.

Charles watches the exchange with quiet satisfaction before clearing his throat. “Well, I believe my work here is done,” he announces, wheeling himself back from he table. “Logan, fancy a game of chess? I haven’t made a player out of her yet.”

You laugh to yourself as Logan follows Charles into the living room. After clearing the kitchen from dinner and loading the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, you join them both in the living room. Tucking yourself into the couch, you read while the two of them play, the clinking of wooden chess pieces and the occasional dry quip from Charles filling the room.

From your spot on the couch, you glance up from your book every now and then to watch them. Logan’s brow furrows in concentration, while Charles’ face is more relaxed as they play. You smile to yourself, wondering how often they played like this in the past, when times were simpler.

You’re not sure when you fell asleep or how long you’ve been out, but you’re jostled awake as two large, warm arms wrap around you, holding you close as you’re lifted off the couch. Logan’s familiar scent—cigar smoke and pine—fill your nose and you blink up to find him walking you down the hall towards your room.

“Logan?” you mumble, voice thick with sleep. “D’you really cage fight?”

Logan chuckles softly, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I really did.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

You blink slowly, your sleep-laden mind struggling to process his answer. “Not even a little?” Your voice is barely audible as you nestle closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Not in the way you think,” he answers, nudging open the door to your room with his foot.

You’re too drowsy to ask what he means and instead you hum softly, a noncommittal sound that Logan feels more than hears. Lowering you onto the bed, he moves with a gentleness you’ve never felt from him before. He brushes a strand of hair from your face and pulls the blanket over you before he turns to leave.

Your limbs are heavy, eyes barely open, but you call out softly—“Logan?”

He looks back towards you. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad Charles found you,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

Logan doesn’t answer, but you swear you feel the lightest of kisses against the top of your head before he leaves.

+++

It’s deep into the night when you hear the front door finally open. Your heart flutters against your ribs as you swing out of bed, unsure of what condition you’ll find him in. He was expected back two days ago, those extra hours away feeling like an unfathomable eternity.

You find him sitting at the kitchen table, dress shirt hanging off one shoulder, the rest of his clothes rumpled and bloodied. A large gash oozes from his shoulder and you can’t stop the gasp that falls from your lips.

Logan looks up at you, eyes narrowed and lined with exhaustion. “Don’t look at me like that,” he grunts, tugging off the rest of his shirt.

“How else am I supposed to look at you?” you ask, taking a tentative step forward. “No phone call or text letting me know you’re not coming home and then you waltz in after midnight soaked in blood and covered in wounds.” Unshed tears burn in your eyes but you will yourself not to cry.

“Didn’t ask you to care about me,” he bites back, but his tone is more weary than argumentative.

“Oh, fuck you, Logan,” you snip, but your tone lacks venom.

He ignores you, pushing up from the chair with a heavy groan and limps over towards the cabinets. He shuffles through one of them, pulling out the makeshift sewing kit before sitting back down. You watch as he attempts to thread the needle, growing increasingly frustrated when he keeps missing.

Shoving down your own frustration, you pull up a chair next to him and reach for the needle and thread. He pulls his hands away from you, turning in the chair to keep you away. You chase after his movements, finally grabbing his wrists and removing the supplies from his grasp.

“I don’t need your help,” he growls.

You sigh, tired of this same argument, this same endless loop every time he comes home injured. “Goddamit, Logan, just let me help you.”

He drags his gaze up to yours, eyes tracing the lines of your face. His chest still heaves with heavy breaths, but you can see the anger bleed from him. He nods once, turning just enough so that you have access to his wound. Threading the needle, you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, ignoring the flinch he gives at your touch.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you whisper.

Logan huffs. “It’s a needle, darlin’. It’s not gonna feel nice.”

You try to ignore the flip your heart does at his use of the word darling. Despite his earlier gruffness and proclivity to push you away, Logan has softened to you over the last couple of months. Since that first dinner you shared, he’s joined you and Charles more often. Or if he comes home late, sought out the leftovers you’ve kept for him. He’s engaged in conversation, offering small pieces of himself, pieces that you’ve cradled close and nurtured.

But there’s a tension between you, thick and heavy in the air, and you wonder if he feels it too. Feels that same undeniable pull you’ve always felt in his presence. You’d like to think so, otherwise you were doomed to love him silently, your feelings for him bound in the quiet of your mind.

“Just trust me,” you say.

Slowly, you release your power, warmth spreading from your fingertips, easing his pain and discomfort as you begin to stitch him up. You try to ignore the heavy press of his gaze on your face and you can almost hear his unspoken thoughts, his words still stuck on his tongue.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his shoulder relaxing as you continue to work.

You glance up at him then, finding his expression softer than you’ve seen it. “A mutant is a dangerous thing to be, Logan,” you answer, your voice soft. “Few people know what I can do. Those I trust.”

For a long moment, Logan just looks at you, his eyes unreadable. Then, a rough, tired sigh falls from his lips. “You coulda told me.”

You take a steadying breath, his words lingering in the space between you. “Maybe,” you say, your fingers brushing against his skin as you continue to stitch. “But you don’t make it easy to talk to you.”

Logan lets out a low huff. “No. I guess I don’t, do I?”

You finish the last stitch, securing the knot. Your fingers linger a touch long than necessary, the warmth of his skin a comfort you’re loathe to lose just yet. Slowly, you lift your gaze to his and you feel your heart beat solidly against your ribs as he looks back at you like he’s seeing something there he hadn’t allowed himself to before.

Logan’s voice is low when he finally speaks. “Why you keep stickin’ around? Watchin’ me come home time after time covered in blood?”

“Because you deserve it.” The words tumble from your mouth before you can stop them. “Even if you don’t see that.”

He doesn’t respond, not right away, as he continues to watch you, his eyes tracing the lines of your face. Then he reaches up for you, fingers curling around your wrist, his skin warm and rough against yours. He holds you there as if grounding himself in your presence, his thumb drawing random patterns against your skin. The gesture is simple, but vulnerable and open in a way he rarely shows.

“I’m no good for you,” he murmurs, glancing down at where he’s touching you. “For anybody.”

“How ‘bout you let me be the judge of that?” you answer, your voice steady. “You’re more than you think you are.”

Logan clenches his jaw, a flicker of disbelief crossing his features, and you know deep below the surface he’s waging a war against himself, one he’s been fighting for far too long. His thumb stills on your wrist, his grip loosening slightly, but not letting go.

Placing your hand over his, you give him a soft smile. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

+++

You’re surprised that he doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to brush you off or push you away as you gently nudge him towards the bathroom. He still gives you a dubious glance as he looks down at the tub, but you just ignore it, moving past him to run the tap.

You give him privacy to undress and get settled before you reenter the bathroom. The sight of him, as large as he his with his knees pulled up to his chest, makes you laugh, garnishing a terse look from him.

“You find this amusing?”

“Big man in a little tub? Yeah, I do,” you reply with a smile. “Just relax, Logan. This’ll be our secret.”

He huffs, but does seem to visibly relax, resting his arms over his knees. You kneel down in front of him, resting one hand gently against his forearm as your other reaches for the washcloth. You can feel the tension release from his muscles as your power floods through him and he breathes out a soft, “Oh,” as all the pain and discomfort is eased from his body.

You wonder how long it’s truly been since he’s felt like this, unburdened by the pain and suffering of his own body. Your heart aches for him as you slowly begin to wash him, rubbing soft circles over the scarred flesh of his back, rinsing away the blood dried to his skin.

Even battered and marred as he is, you still find him beautiful—you always have. When you first started working with him all those months ago, you felt that pang of attraction when you met him, you’d have been blind not to. Ruggedly handsome, so strong and sure of himself. But you know that wasn’t all that drew you to him. Deep down, below all the tough, seemingly impenetrable exterior, you saw the man he truly was. Someone born of scars and rough edges, yet gentle. Someone who would selflessly put himself before others, even at his own expense.

You let the cloth linger a moment longer against his skin before dipping it back into the water, watching as his blood rinses from the fabric. Squeezing the excess water out, you press it back against his collarbone, tracing the warm cloth along his neck and over his shoulders. Logan doesn’t move, his eyes half-closed, his expression relaxed in a way you’ve never seen before.

Something deep tugs at you as you realize how vulnerable he is right now, how trusting. He hides behind a gruff exterior, his true self guarded so carefully so that he doesn’t let people in, doesn’t open himself up to the hurt that trusting another person can bring. But maybe you’ve finally cracked through, broken down a little bit of that wall he surrounds himself with.

The warm water drips from his skin as you continue to wash him, letting your fingers trail gently along the newly cleaned lines of his arms. Logan shivers at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he seems to lean into it, his breathing deepening, muscles falling even more slack.

“Feel nice?” you ask in a murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, finally glancing up at you through his half-lidded gaze. “’S very nice,” he replies, his voice rough.

“Good. You deserve it,” you say, repeating your sentiment from earlier.

You feel a flicker of warmth as his eyes meet yours and he simply nods. It takes everything in you to not smile too widely, to keep the moment gentle, but you take his acceptance to heart.

Running the cloth down his ribs, you pause when you feel the misshapen knot of a bruise beneath your fingers and glancing down, you find a deep purple hue coloring his skin. Your eyes dart to his with worry, knowing that an injury like that will take him at least a week to heal, if not longer, in his weakened state. That with every breath he’ll feel the pain of his muscles pulling and the bruise spreading if you’re not touching him.

Dropping the washcloth in the water, you press your palm against his side and take in a deep breath to steady yourself. Then, a warmth spreads from your skin into his as you pull his injury from him, feeling his skin knit back together, feeling his abused muscles realign themselves under his skin. A dull, yet sharp ache, blooms along your ribs as you continue to pull his pain into yourself, erasing the injury from his body. With a final gasp, you draw back, your fingers now running along unmarred flesh knitted whole.

Logan tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze as the back of his knuckles brush against your cheek. His eyes flicker to yours, holding your gaze, and for a moment, the room falls into a deep quiet.

That pull between you, the magnetic force that you’ve felt since the beginning, feels amplified now. You’re acutely aware of every inch of space between you—how small it is, how easy it would be to close it. How badly you want to close it. You swallow, feeling the tension coil in your belly as he continues to hold your gaze, unblinking, but more open and raw than he’s ever been before.

“What are you doing to me?” he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat at his question, voice rough and laced with something between wonder and disbelief. As if he can’t quite fathom what you’ve done for him—what you’ve given him so freely.

Logan’s eyes search yours, his fingers drifting from your cheek to trace along your jaw, lingering with a tenderness that belies the man he presents to the outside world. His gaze is steady and intimate, as if he’s trying to understand you in a way that goes beyond words. But you say nothing, your heart pounding too loudly in your ears to form a reply.

“You took it on yourself, my pain?”

You simply nod, distracted by the way Logan’s fingers continue to brush along the edge of your ear, tracing the lines of your face as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish if he lets go.

“Why?”

“Because I want to,” you whisper, unable to resist the pull of his hand against your skin, the warmth of his touch that you feel with every fiber of your being. “Because it’s the one thing I can do to help you.”

A beat of silence passes, the air thick and heavy with unspoken words. He exhales, shaky and deep, letting his hand slide to the back of your neck. The calloused pads of his fingers press gently against your skin, anchoring you in place and you can feel him pull you closer, his gaze dropping to your lips, his breath mingling with yours in the small, intimate space between you.

“I shouldn’t want this, want you,” he says, voice so low it’s almost a rumble. “But, fuck, I do.”

His confession is raw, leaving him unguarded for the first time in a long time and before he can pull back, before he can throw those walls back up around himself, you close the gap, resting your forehead against his. You bring your hand up to touch his face, thumb brushing over his cheek as you breath him in, feeling the heat radiate between you.

Logan’s hand slides further along your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he finally, gently, presses his lips to yours. His kiss isn’t demanding or rushed or filled with passion, but a lingering connection, the promise of something more. His lips are softer than you imagined, his touch more careful than you expected, as if he’s afraid he’ll break you. Slowly, his thumb traces circles against your cheek, steadying and soothing, pulling you closer.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed. His breath is warm against your skin. “I don’t wanna push you away anymore,” he murmurs.

“Good because I don’t want you to.”

Logan lets out a breath, a hint of a smile finally softening his features.

Reluctantly, you pull away and pick the washcloth up again, intent on finishing what you started. The water turns to rust as you wash him of blood and grime, making sure you reach each cut, each bruise, each scar on his body that makes up the map of who he is.

You turn off the tap and hand him a towel, averting your eyes as he stands, wrapping the towel low across his hips. Logan reaches for you, tugging on the collar of your shirt to pull you closer. You stumble a bit as he pulls you in, surprised by the insistence in his grip. Logan’s eyes meet yours, an intensity behind his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, hand slipping along your jaw, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip.

You’re drawn forward as Logan’s lips find yours again, but this time there’s an urgency behind the kiss, a desperation and need he’s no longer trying to hide. He holds your face gently in his hands as he deepens the kiss, his nose pressing against yours, his beard scraping against your skin and you find yourself melting against him.

This is what you’ve been craving since you met him. Despite it all—the rage simmering just below his surface, the sharpness of his exterior, the sometimes shocking callousness of his words—you always knew there was a tenderness underneath, a softness that even his tortured past couldn’t erase.

Logan’s hands drift from your face, trailing down your neck and tracing along the curve of your spine as he presses you closer until there’s no space between you. The dampness of his skin bleeds into your shirt and you gasp into his mouth when he shifts his hips just enough and you feel heat of his erection against your thigh.

He pulls away from your mouth long enough to husk against your lips, “I’m old, not dead.” His teeth nip lightly at your bottom lip. “I’ve gotta beautiful woman lettin’ me kiss her, what did you expect?”

Your fingers trail along the edge of the towel slung low across this hips and a thrill runs through you as you feel his abdominal muscles flutter beneath your touch. You peer up at him, noting the flush of his skin, the black of his eyes as you tug the fabric just enough to loosen it. “How long has it been since someone has touched you, Logan?” you ask, your breath warm in the space between you.

Logan’s hands urge your hips closer, seeking friction as he starts to slowly rut against your thigh. You hear him swallow as your fingers dip below the fabric, brushing along the damp hair at the base of his cock.

“F—fuck,” he groans, guttural and low, his head dropping down to your shoulder. “Since before you.”

The weight of Logan’s confession presses into you and in that moment you want to give him everything. Wrap him in all the love you can muster, show him something other than pain and suffering.

You move your hand from the towel, allowing the fabric to fall from his waist and pool forgotten on the floor. Logan’s breath catches as your fingers wrap around him fully, the heat and weight of his cock pressing against your palm.

A ragged groan escapes his throat. “Christ,” he mutters, voice thick and vibrating against your skin. “You don’t gotta—”

“I want to,” you interrupt, slowly and deliberately dragging your hand along his length, tracing the vein along the underside of his cock with your fingertips.

Logan’s hips jerk involuntarily, seeking friction, chasing your hand, and you oblige, tightening your grip just enough to elicit another groan from him.

“What do you like?” The question lands in the sliver of space between you, your strokes still light, teasing.

“Firmer, more ah—” He breaks off as you tighten your grip on the upstroke. “Fuck, yes, like that, sweetheart.”

A shiver runs down your spine as his hands find your waist, fingers clutching at you almost hard enough to bruise. His breaths are growing uneven, each exhale warm against your neck as he fights to maintain some semblance of control.

“You keep that up,” he rasps, lips grazing your ear, “and I’m not gonna last long.”

His admission sends a rush of pride through you and you tilt your head back to look at him, your thumb brushing over the sensitive head of his cock, spreading the wetness there. Logan’s eyes meet yours, dark and heavy-lidded, his expression raw and unguarded. You like him like this, such a large, imposing man boiled down to pure wanton need.

“I don’t mind,” you reply, keeping your movements steady, your strokes firm yet gentle. You focus on the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his fingers grip you tighter each time you find the right rhythm. “Just wanna make you feel good, Logan.”

He leans forward, capturing your lips into a kiss that’s both rough and messy, teeth nipping at your lip as his tongue licks into your mouth. He groans are muffled against your mouth as his hips begin to thrust in time with your strokes, his movements growing more erratic as he chases after his release.

“Can’t believe—ah, fuck—can’t believe how good you’re makin’ me feel,” he growls against your lips.

You smile into his mouth, your free hand brushing along his hipbone as your strokes quicken. His whole body tenses, the muscles in his shoulders and arms flexing, his abdominal muscles taut as he teeters on the edge.

“Let go, Logan,” you say. “I’ve got you.”

With a strangled groan, he comes, his release spilling over your hand, hot and thick. His body shudders against yours as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You hold him close as he continues to thrust lazily into your grip, your own movements slowing as you guide him through the aftershocks.

For a moment, neither of you speaks, then Logan lifts his head, his hazel eyes soft as they meet yours. “You walked into my life and I knew—I knew—you would ruin me.”

You smile to yourself, unable to stop the thought that floats into your head—he’s ruined you as well.

+++

The text comes in at a little over one AM—hurt.

You jump out of bed, adrenaline rushing through your veins as you slip into one of his discarded flannels and head out into the night. Pacing the driveway, your heart jumps into your throat at every passing headlight, your thumbnail almost bitten down to the quick as you wait for him.

The minutes bleed into eternity until you finally see the limo turn down the long drive and it takes all your willpower to not run and meet him halfway. You’re bouncing on your heels as he finally comes to a stop, the driver’s side door opening with a faint groan of steel.

Your heart stutters in your chest as he emerges from the car, blood soaking through his shirt, dark and spreading, as he steps towards you on shaky legs. Logan’s face is pale in the moonlight, his breathing uneven and shallow and white-hot dread shoots up your spine as you see his arm hanging limp, two of his claws unsheathed and dripping blood.

“Oh, fuck, fuck!” you gasp, rushing to his side.

Logan tries to wave you off, gritting his teeth as he grips the doorframe. “”M fine,” he grits, but the tremor in his voice betrays him.

You reach for him, hands already attempting to steady him as his knees buckle and he collapses to the ground beneath him. “Careful. Claws,” he rasps as his left hand seeks purchase against your shoulder.

“I don’t fucking care about your claws, Logan,” you snap, although you both know your anger isn’t at him. You glance up at him and for once you think you actually see fear in his eyes. “What happened?”

“Gas. Robbery.” Each word punches out of his chest, the effort to speak sending tremors down his limbs. “Got ‘em.” He nods down towards his limp arm, claws still unsheathed, but slowly, so slowly starting to retract.

He winces as you help him peel off his coat to get to the shirt underneath. Your fingers shake as they trace the holes the bullets made—one in his shoulder, dangerously close to his lungs and the other just below his ribs. Hooking your fingers through the fabric, you rip it from his chest—the wounds are deep and his skin is hot and slick with sweat.

Panic claws at you and unshed tears burn in your eyes. You’ve seen Logan hurt before, but this—this was different. His breathing is painfully shallow, his usual gruffness and resilience absent.

“Logan, you’re not healing,” you whisper, your voice shaking as your fingers stain with blood. Logan simply grunts, trying to wave you off, but lacking the strength. “I can’t…I can’t lose you. I can help.”

Logan’s eyes widen as he grabs for your wrist. “No. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“I don’t care!” you shout. “I love you, dammit, and I’m not just going to sit here and watch you die!”

Before he can protest, you press your palms over his wounds, the familiar warmth of your power surging through you as it spreads from your palms into his torn flesh.

The pain hits you like a freight train.

It’s sharp and relentless, searing through your shoulder and into the softness of your belly like molten fire. You gasp, biting back a scream as your body jerks instinctively away from the intensity, every cell in your body demanding you withdraw from the torture.

But you don’t stop. You cling to him, tears streaming down your face as you channel your power into him, knitting his flesh back together. You can feel it, the way his muscles, bones and tissue rearrange themselves, months of healing taking place in mere moments. Every second feels like an eternity, but you refuse to let go.

You’re dimly aware of Logan yelling at you to stop, his own pain momentarily forgotten as he watches you endure his agony.

Black dots dance in your vision as the last of his wounds come together, the spent bullets clinking to the gravel and you finally collapse against him, trembling, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The fire in your body begins to dull, fading to a cold, hollow ache as Logan wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight against his chest.

“Hey,” you mumble against him, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re okay now.”

“Me?” Logan’s voice is low, disbelieving as his hand cradles the back of your head as if you might shatter. “You’re the one—why the fuck would you do that? You could’ve—dammit, you—”

His words break off, his forehead dropping to yours as his breath shudders against your cheek. You can feel the tension radiating through him, warring with himself between his gratitude and anger, between his guilt and the love he’s too afraid to speak out loud.

“I told you why,” you answer, lifting your head to look up at him.

Logan’s jaw clenches, his words caught in his throat, but his eyes say everything is voice won’t. You don’t need him to say it, not yet, but you can feel it, pressing just below the surface.

“C’mon, let’s get you inside.”

+++

There’s a reverence in which Logan washes you.

Steam swirls around you as he works the thickly lathered loofah over your shoulders, down across your collarbones and down along the soft planes of your stomach. The water rinses away the faint metallic tang of blood, leaving behind the fresh scent of soap. He continues with a silent determination, as if the act of washing you can erase all the pain you’ve taken from him.

You know better than to convince him you’re fine, that the pain is always temporary, that it only lasts for a few minutes, sometimes just a bit longer. That the pain is something you’d endure for him again and again if he’d let you.

His thumb brushes along the underside of your ribs, searching for a wound you know he won’t find. You reach for him, lacing your fingers together with his. He blinks up at you, hazel eyes holding far too much worry for such a stoic man.

“I’m not going to break, Logan,” you say softly.

A wordless noice escapes his throat as he removes himself from your grasp and continues to work, ditching the loofah in favor of his hands. His fingers are warm and calloused against your skin as they glide lower, down over the swell of your hips, over your thighs, down towards your knees.

His touch morphs from one of care and comfort to one more sensual, simmering with unspoken tension as his fingers rest in the hollow behind your knee. You glance down at him, water droplets catching in his hair, running off the slope of his nose.

Though you’ve seen him bare before, you can help but trace the lines of his body—the broadness of his shoulders, the well defined muscles of his chest, the sturdiness of his thighs, the scars that mar his skin. The sight of him stirs something deep within you and you feel your pulse thrum beneath your skin.

“Logan,” you murmur, your voice almost lost in the sound of the water.

He looks up at you then, eyes locking with yours. A storm swirls within them, a mix of guilt, affection and an intensity that takes your breath away. Leaning in, he presses the barest of kisses to the inside of your knee before he rises to his full height, pressing you close.

“D’you mean what you said before?” he asks, voice low.

I love you, dammit!

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.

Logan exhales sharply, the tension he’s been holding coiled in his muscles loosening as he loops his arms around your waist. “I’m not very good with words,” he admits, his breath fanning across your damp skin. “Can I show you?”

There’s no mistaking the meaning behind his words and you can only nod, your voice catching in your throat.

His lips find yours, mouth moving over yours slow and deliberate as if he’s savoring the taste of you. The first touch is a spark, the second a fire, and by the third, it’s an inferno that engulfs you both and leaves you breathless. Logan kisses you like you’re his anchor, his salvation, his touch desperate and full of everything he can’t yet put into words.

Your fingers slide into his hair, gripping the strands at the nape of his neck as you pull him closer, deepening the kiss. He groans against your mouth, the sound swallowed in the space between you. His tongue brushes against yours, teasing and exploring and you respond in kind, your nails scraping along his scalp.

Logan’s control is fraying. You can feel it in the way his teeth nip at your bottom lip, the way his hands press along the curve of your spine, the way he can’t seem to find enough of your skin to touch, to caress. A low growl rumbles through his chest as you slip a hand between your slick bodies, finding his cock, thick and heavy against your belly.

You give one slow drag of your palm along his length before he’s gripping your thighs and forcing your legs around his waist. His mouth leaves yours, trailing down to the curve of your jaw as he presses you against the wall, the coolness of the tile a direct contrast to the heat of your skin and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips.

Despite his age, the metal bones inside him slowly poisoning him and causing him human aches and pains, he’s still able to hold you up solidly with one arm as the other trails along your hip bone and dips down to where you’re warm and wet.

“This all for me?” he asks in a murmur, sliding a finger along the seam of your cunt, just barely brushing against your clit.

Your breath hitches and you grip his shoulders, nails pressing lightly into his skin as you nod. Logan’s eyes darken at your reaction, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Yes,” you finally manage to whisper. “Always for you.”

“Good,” he growls, leaning in to nip at the skin just below your ear. The deep rumble of his voice vibrates through you, his touch deliberate and almost torturously slow as he slides his fingers through your folds, spreading your slickness with a focused and unrelenting precision.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp, your head tilting back against the wall as he finally presses his thumb to your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to have your thighs trembling around his waist.

“I got you,” he coos against your skin, his lips trailing from the pulse point in your neck to your collarbone. His teeth scrape along the curve of your shoulder, his free hand gripping your hip tighter to steady you as his fingers continue to tease and coax. “Lemme make you feel good.”

Every nerve ending is afire beneath him, every motion, every stroke of his fingers against your cunt leaving your mind reeling with pleasure. Your nails dig further into corded muscles of his shoulders, desperate for something to anchor yourself to. You pull back when you see the tiny, crescent shaped cuts marring his skin.

His eyes snap up to yours, sharp and molten. “No, do it,” he urges, fingers still moving. “Mark me with somethin’ pretty.”

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasp.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his voice rough and commanding. There’s a quiet desperation in his tone, as if hearing it grounds him. Grounds him to this moment. To you.

You can’t help but obey, whispering his name like a prayer, and he rewards you by slipping one long finger inside you, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure along your spine. Logan watches your face intently as if memorizing the way you react to his touch. When he adds a second finger and slowly begins to thrust his hand, you cling further to him, the heat inside you building to an almost unbearable intensity.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and reverent. “You’re so beautiful like this. So wet and warm and tight around me.”

His words barely register in your mind, too focused on the way his fingers curl and thrust inside you, finding that soft spot that makes your eyes roll back. He’s relentless now, his thumb pressing hard against your clit as he brings you closer and closer to the edge.

“Logan, I’m so close,” you whine, your hips beginning to roll against his hand, seeking just a bit more friction, forcing his fingers deeper inside of you.

The tension coiling low in your belly finally snaps, your orgasm washing over you in waves that make your whole body shudder as you cry out his name. Logan holds you through it, his hand continuing to thrust against you as he draws out every ounce of pleasure from you, his own breathing ragged against your skin.

When you finally come down, Logan presses a kiss to your temple as he helps you unwrap your legs from his waist and carefully sets you down, keeping you close.

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I didn’t think you’d be into shower sex, old man,” you tease with a smile.

His laugh is low. “I can make exceptions. I need a bed to fuck you properly, though.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

+++

The heat and intensity between you doesn’t diminish as Logan helps you out of the shower and guides you down the hallway towards his bedroom. A shiver of anticipation crawls up your spine as you get closer, knowing that once you cross this line, there’s no going back, that he will have claimed you fully.

You scoot back onto the bed, watching as he approaches you with a fire in his gaze that doesn’t waver. He climbs onto the mattress, knee pressing down between yours as he cages you in from above, gently pinning you beneath him.

Leaning down, his lips brush against yours, teasing. “Still wanna challenge me, sweetheart?” His voice is a low gravelly growl that sends a prickling rush of arousal down your limbs.

“Always,” you reply breathlessly, arching into his touch as his hands slide down your thighs, parting them with ease.

His grin is sharp as he leans back to take you in fully and you acutely feel the weight of his gaze against your skin. He traces his calloused fingers over your damp skin, along the dips of your collarbones, under the swell of each breast, mapping the curve of your hips as if committing you to memory. Dipping his head, he leans down between your legs, his beard grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you can’t help but shudder at the sensation.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he says, almost to himself, his voice dripping with desire. He drags his lips higher, brushing along your damp cunt, his breath hot and tantalizing. “And all mine.”

The possessiveness in his tone has you clenching around nothing, heat pooling low in your belly and your fingers tangle in his hair, urging him closer. But he ignores your silent plea, almost deliberately testing your patience as he kisses you everywhere except where you want him most.

“Logan, please,” you gasp, the ache between your thighs almost painful.

“Patience,” he chides with a smirk, though his own resolve seems to be thinning. His hands grip your hips, pulling you closer before he flattens his palms against your thighs, opening you fully to him. Then, his tongue is on you, lapping at you with flat, broad strokes in a rhythm that quickly has you teetering on the edge.

Logan’s focus is unrelenting, his low growls of approval vibrating through you as he works you over with an enthusiasm that proves to you this is about more than just pleasure—he’s claiming you, showing you just how much you mean to him. Making you his.

Your thighs tremble around him and his warm, rough hands hold you steady as he slips one, then two fingers deep inside of you. It’s embarrassing how quickly you come as he thrusts his fingers against that spot inside you, your second orgasm of the night crashing over you as his name falls from his lips in a breathless moan.

Before you can properly catch your breath, Logan is moving from between your thighs, making his way back up your body, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. His lips finally find yours in a kiss that’s messy and desperate and you can taste yourself on his tongue, sharp and bright, and the intimacy of it sends a thrill through you.

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he groans against your lips, his voice wrecked as he grinds his hips against yours, his cock hard and insistent against your hip. “Could spend the rest of my life between between those thighs.”

“Why stop there?” you tease, your lips tugging into a smirk. “I thought you said you’d fuck me properly.”

Logan’s eyes darken, your challenge seeming to light something dark and primal in him. His grin is all teeth as he sits back on his heels, hands curling around your hips and pulling you down the bed like you weigh nothing until your hips are flush with his. “You gotta mouth on you, sweetheart. Should we see if you can still talk stuffed full of my cock?”

The weight of his cock brushes against your slick folds and you gasp at the sensation, your nerve endings exquisitely sensitive. Logan grips himself at the base, giving himself one languid stroke before running the thick head along your cunt, teasing you with shallow thrusts. Each slow, deliberate stroke of him sliding against you leaves you desperate and aching and you lift your hips in search of more.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So needy. Bet you’ll take me so well, huh?”

“Yes,” you breathe, nails digging into the muscles of his forearms. “Please.”

He presses into you then, the stretch of his cock making your jaw drop as he takes his time, sinking in inch by inch, filling you completely. Logan’s gaze is locked on yours, heavy and possessive as he watches every flicker of pleasure cross your face.

“Fuck” he groans when he’s fully seated against your hips, his body trembling with the effort to stay still. “You feel…so fuckin’ tight. So damn perfect.”

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him as he starts to move, pulling out torturously slow before thrusting back in harder, setting a rhythm that’s relentless and consuming. Each stroke of his hips has you crying out, your body arching into his as you meet him thrust for thrust.

“Takin’ me so well, sweetheart,” he growls, his fingers gripping the flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise as he continues to pound into you. “Like you were made for me.”

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing in with your whimpered moans and Logans own ragged groans. He leans down, bracing himself on his forearms, the wiry hair on his chest teasing your nipples as his lips find your neck, biting and sucking marks into your skin that feel like promises.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in deeper, your heels digging into his back as the coil inside you begins to tighten once more. He feels it too, the way you body clenches around him, and his pace falters slightly, his breaths coming faster.

“C’mon,” he rasps against the pulse point on your neck. “Wanna feel you come. Wanna make you fall apart.”

It doesn’t take much more—just a few more well-angled thrusts that hit that spot inside you and the tension finally snaps, your orgasm ripping through you with a force that leaves you trembling. Logan’s finesse is slipping, thrusts growing erratic as chases his own release.

“Come Logan,” you manage in a whisper. “Come for me.”

His hips stutter as he groans your name, spilling into you as his body tenses, lazily thrusting against you as he wrings out the last of his pleasure. He stays deep inside you, still for several moments before he shifts just enough to collapse against your side.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, the only sounds in the room being your heavy breathes and the pounding of your heart. Logan rests his head against your chest, heavy and sweat slick between your breasts. You brush at the strands of hair against his forehead before running your finger along the old scar on his cheek.

He lifts his head to look up at you, his gaze soft yet still simmering with hunger. “I do, you know,” he murmurs. His fingers brush idly against your skin. “Love you.”

A smile spreads across your face, warming blooming in your chest.

“I know.”

+++

You wake before he does, rolling over to find him prone, face buried in the pillow he hugs close to his chest. Sunlight filters in through the half slatted blinds, catching on the silver in his hair and beard and you can’t help but admire how handsome he looks, how at peace he is beside you. He’s relaxed in sleep for the first time since you came here. You’ve heard his growls and yelps of terror that echo in the night, seen the claw marks that pierce his sheets.

Your mind filters back to last night and how he looked as he came apart inside you, how desperate and needy he was for your touch upon his skin. The memory of his gasps and groans send a rush of warmth over your skin, making you dimly aware of the ache between your legs. Logan, so guarded, so unyielding and seemingly unbreakable, trembled as he came, his voice rough and wrecked as he called out your name. You shiver thinking about it.

You want to hear it again. But not now.

Resisting the urge to reach out and brush the hair from his forehead, you leave him undisturbed and slide out of bed. Padding into the kitchen, you find Charles sitting in his chair at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of him. He looks up at you with a warm smile as you start a pot of coffee, the machine humming to life.

“Ah, I see,” he comments, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You glance over at Charles, his eyes back on the paper in front of him, but his smile still paints his face, sly and knowing. Heat creeps up your neck as you busy yourself with the coffee. “Are you reading my mind?” you ask, trying to force nonchalance into your tone.

Charles chuckles softly and taps at his temple. “I don’t have to. You’re projecting. And quite loudly, at that.”

You bite your lip as you fill your mug, leaning against the counter as the coffee warms your hands. You attempt to clear your mind, trying to think of anything mundane—the weather, baseball, laundry. Charles just shakes his head. “Relax, my dear. What the two of you do together as consenting adults is none of my business.”

“Oh, God,” you groan, your cheeks aflame. “That’s what I’m projecting?”

“Not that explicitly, no. You think more in feelings, rather than words. But they’re quite powerful emotions and rather hard to ignore when they’re radiating as strongly as yours are this morning.”

You bury your face in your hand, peeking at Charles through your fingers, which only seems to amuse him further. “You’re enjoying this far too much,” you mutter.

“Perhaps,” Charles says with a laugh. “But you’re helping him. Healing him. And that, my dear, is worth everything.”

Before you can respond, you hear the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Logan rounds the corner, hair tousled from sleep, his body still bare except for the pair of low slung sweatpants clinging to his hips. His eyes find yours first, softening in a way they rarely do for anyone else as he scratches at the back of his head and mumbles, “Mornin’.”

“Morning,” you reply with a smile, thankful for the distraction. You pour a second cup of coffee and offer it up to him. “Coffee?”

Logan grunts in affirmation, moving towards you, but instead of reaching for the mug, he loops an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. He buries his face in your neck, beard scraping against your skin as he sighs. “Didn’t like wakin’ up with you not there,” he breathes into your hair, his voice so low you almost don’t hear him.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“S’okay,” he says softly, pressing the lightest of kisses just under your ear. “Next time, wake me.”

Your heart stutters against your ribs at his open display of affection, the softness and warmth in which he holds you, and the promise behind his words. From over his shoulder you see Charles give you a slight nod, a bright smile on his face before he turns his attention back to the newspaper in front of him.

You think back to what Charles told you all those months ago, about how you were a home for Logan. Those words echo in your mind as you feel Logan’s steady weight against you. He’s so different now, soft and unguarded and in that moment you know.

You’re home, too.

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onlymingyus · 3 months ago

Text

i want to write you a song

pairing; lee jihoon (woozi) x f!reader

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, fluff

summary; You have the best job in the world as Lee Jihoon's personal assistant but his secrets are starting to turn your world upside down.

content warnings; personal assistant!reader, ceo/boss!jihoon, single dad!jihoon, children, grandparents/parents, jihoon has a sibling, coworkers!soonyoung, mingyu, & wonwoo, soonyoung in a menace, eating/drinking, alcohol, jealousy, crying, self confidence/esteem issues, death of a family member (in the past).

smut warnings; unprotected sex, pulling out, cream pie, simp!jihoon, mild dom!jihoon, sub!reader, the dom/sub dynamics are very subtle, dumbification (very mild), innocence kink, lingerie kink, pet names, praise (like a lot -- he is a simp), body worship, oral (f receiving), fingering, handjob, crying (from pleasure and happiness), manhandling, masturbation, pillow princess!reader, i am sure there are more (let me know if its glaring) -- bonus section has its own warnings on patreon.

w/c; 27k and some change (3.2k extra words for patreon bonus)

a/n; thank you to @junkissed and @seokgyuu for helping me come up with a title for this! it's a 1D song, and I do not go here, but it's a very cute song and title! also thank you to my june for proofreading for me and always being the best in the fucking world. literally going through 30k words of my bullshit... the mvp! anyway, i hope you guys enjoy me simping over simp dlif jihoon! next month is spooky seasons so keep your eyes peeled for that one 💀!

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

Whining under your breath, you clutch the drink holder to your chest as you watch the door close in front of you. It didn’t seem to matter how quickly you were trying to get your feet to move in your heels; the door closing was like an impending doom. That was how your entire day felt from the moment you woke up. You were trying to be good at your job. For the past month, you had been doing your best to make a good impression at the company and on your new boss, but it seemed like something would happen to make you look like an idiot.

“No, no, no! Fuck!” The words come from your lips louder than you intended as you try to put the toe of your shoe between the door and the frame, only to be a second to late watching it close with a deafening clang in front of you. Stomping your foot out of frustration, you feel something cold and wet seeping through the front of your shirt, drawing your eyes down. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

The world was out to get you. That was the only excuse you had as you moved the drink tray from your chest, seeing the coffee stain spreading along your chest towards your stomach. In your temper tantrum, you had managed to knock the lid off one of the coffees, and now you were wearing your mistake.

Tears prick at your eyes as you try to balance the drinks in one hand and your bags in the other to fish for your badge. Sniffing back your frustration and embarrassment, you barely glance to your left as someone uses their badge to open the door and hold it open for you. “Thanks… I’m such a mess.”

Jihoon grins at you as you pout down at your shirt. You were a mess. You had been a bit of a mess from the moment he hired you, but he didn’t seem to mind. You were still good at your job. You were easy on the eyes, good with his schedule, and you had never missed a day of work—even if you were a couple minutes late. “I have some things upstairs, Miss Y/L/N. Don’t worry about it. Let me take the coffee.”

The sound of your boss's voice makes your eyes widen as you look in his direction, a soft gasp escaping from your mouth as your lips part in shock. You had been trying so hard to beat him back to the office. You were trying to make a good impression on him and the others in the office by providing an afternoon coffee every single day—today you were failing.

“Mr. Lee… Oh, I—no, sir. I can—” Shaking his head, Jihoon slides his fingers over yours, taking the tray from your hand before gesturing towards the door once again. “You do too much, Miss Y/L/N. Did one of the guys tell you to pick these up? They shouldn’t. It’s not your job.”

Taking a step forward, you stumble, feeling Jihoon’s hand on your lower back guide you through the door. Shaking your head, you pull your jacket over your coffee-stained shirt and press your lips together as you adjust your bags to both arms and dare to glance at your boss once again. “No… I just thought they might like them. A little pick-me-up. One for you too.”

Jihoon smirks softly as he moves his hand from your back to press the call button for the elevator for the both of you. Lifting his brow, he looks back at the drinks in his hand before sighing and tilting his head. “You’re kind. It’s not necessary. I rarely drink coffee, honestly.”

Watching your face fall in disappointment, Jihoon sighs, following you into the elevator before shaking his head. “But, with that said... I am very appreciative and I’ll enjoy it today, Miss Y/L/N. It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?”

Nodding, you swallow hard, thinking back to all the days over the month when you had brought him coffee and saw the confusion on his face as he slid it away. He really didn’t like coffee, did he? You should pay more attention. “It has. Um, I–sir? If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

The ding of the elevator draws Jihoon’s eyes up to the numbers at the top of the door before he grins at your question. You were so cute; it was endearing. You were trying too hard to impress him when you already had. Sighing softly, Jihoon nods his head forward, waiting for you to get off the elevator first when the doors open, before he walks beside you, meeting your gaze. “Coke Zero, actually.”

It was so unexpected for someone like Lee Jihoon. He was the CEO and star producer of Ruby Entertainment. You expected someone like him, someone who was on the cover of magazines, who had more money than God to drink merlot for breakfast, yet he preferred a Coke Zero for an afternoon pick-up. Grinning, you nod as you drop your bags at your desk and offer to take the drink tray from Jihoon. “I’ll remember that.”

Giving you a slow once-over, Jihoon meets your eyes and laughs under his breath. “I’m sure you will; you’re good at details.” Starting to turn towards his office, Jihoon stops and gestures towards you and back to his office. “I have extra button-ups in my office closet. You’re welcome to wear one. Might be a little ill-fitting, but...”

Taking a deep breath, you think about his offer before nodding. You were internally freaking out over the idea of wearing your boss's clothes, but you could feel the wet shirt against your skin at this point and something dry was tempting. Reaching for one of the coffees, Jihoon smirks at you before nodding his head towards his office, not waiting for you to follow him as he brings the drink to his lips and takes a sip.

Glancing around Jihoon’s office, you watch him move to his desk as if he hadn’t just offered you his clothes before you look at the farthest wall where the closet in question is located. You had put plenty of things in it. That was one of your jobs—pick up dry cleaning, bring it back to the office and put it in the closet. Jihoon liked to work out before work and needed something to change into.

Sighing to yourself, you shake the thought of Jihoon fresh from the gym in the morning from your head as you cross the room and open the closet, looking over the neatly pressed button-ups. Watching you from his desk, Jihoon makes a small face at the taste of his coffee before smiling to himself as you stare at the shirts in the closet as if there is a wrong choice in front of you. He didn’t have that many different options. He wasn’t an adventurous man when it came to his clothes. He wore white, black, blue, and gray.

“Pick anything, Miss Y/L/N. Any of them will look lovely on you.”

That wasn’t helping. You were trying not to panic as you laughed awkwardly and glanced over your shoulder to nod politely towards Jihoon before picking out a white button-up and pulling it towards you. “This one, I guess. I’ll bring it back after I have it dry cleaned, sir.”

Jihoon watches as you stumble over your feet in your heels, quickly making your way towards his office door. Leaning forward in case you were to fall, he sighs when you reach out your hand and laugh at yourself. “I’m okay, Mr. Lee. Just going to change quickly and get back to work. I apologize for all the inconvenience.”

Settling back in his chair, Jihoon shakes his head as his door closes and he watches you rush towards the bathroom with his shirt in your hands. Muttering under his breath, he takes another sip of his drink as he looks at his computer screen, scrolling through emails. “You’re not an inconvenience, Y/N…��

Resting the straw of his coffee against his lips, Soonyoung smirks at you as he tilts his head, giving you a once-over. You were attractive—there was no questioning that. What was making him give you a second and third glance today as you passed out your cute little afternoon coffees was that your shirt was different than it had been before lunch. It was too big for you, almost as if—”Ya, Y/N? Are you wearing your boyfriend’s clothes to work? Did you do something spicy at lunch?”

Your fingers almost slip from the coffee in your hand as you offer the last one to Wonwoo, his eyes moving to your shirt as Mingyu leans back in his chair to get a better look at you. Your face was on fire and you wanted to kill Kwon Soonyoung.

“What? No! Oh my god... I don’t—shut up. No, I don’t even… I’m not dating anyone, Soonyoung. I had an accident with the coffee. This is Mr. Lee—” Stopping mid-explanation, you avoid the eyes of the three men even as you feel Soonyoung’s smirk get wider out of the corner of your eye. “Shut the fuck up... No, you are not wearing Jihoon’s clothes! You little slut.”

Sinking down in your chair outside of Jihoon’s office, you rest your head in your hands as Wonwoo tells Soonyoung to stop teasing you, but the man just laughs, catcalling from across the room even as he gets sheet music thrown in his direction by Mingyu.

“Leave her alone, Soonyoung. She’s gonna pass out.” Even though Mingyu was "helping," you could hear the teasing in his voice. He wasn’t much better than Soonyoung. You could feel his eyes moving over you from his desk and as you met his eyes, you instantly regretted it as he smirked. “You look hot, Y/N. I bet Jihoon was losing his fuckin’ mind seeing you in his—”

The sound of Jihoon’s office door opening to your right causes everyone to stop teasing, though a few snickers remain. Staring at your laptop, you hear Jihoon clear his throat before you dare glance at him, seeing a soft smile on his face. At least he wasn’t like the other idiots you worked with. He was professional. He would never make you feel uncomfortable. He didn’t like you the way that Soonyoung or Mingyu thought that he did. That was ridiculous.

“I hate to ask you for a favor after such a long day, but—have you met, uh, Haein?” Furrowing your brows, you shake your head. You had heard the name, but you hadn’t met the woman the name belonged to. You assumed she must be someone important to Jihoon—a sister, aunt, or significant other. You hadn’t let your mind linger.

“Right… I forget how short of a time you’ve been here. Uh, shit. This is not what I hired you for, but at the same time…” Glancing at his watch, Jihoon sighs and meets your eyes once more. “Do you know where the elementary school is on the corner of Fifth and Cline?”

Now you are even more confused. You could hear the others in the room whispering, but you didn’t have time to give them a thought as you nodded and Jihoon offered you his car keys. “Perfect. Haein isn’t feeling well. I have that meeting to hopefully sign Seokmin in half an hour or I’d just cancel. We can’t afford to lose him.”

“I—okay. Sure. I’ll go get Haein.” Jihoon could see the confusion and concern in your eyes and yet you were on your feet, your purse in one hand and his keys in the other. Your brows furrowed, and you tilted your head, trying to get your head around what you were being asked to do, when Jihoon’s fingers wrapped around your elbow, pulling you back towards him. “She’s in Mr. Hong’s class; they know to expect you.”

Carefully pulling the blacked-out Range Rover into the parking lot, you first lean down to glance at the school in front of you before turning around to look at the booster seat in the back. You were picking up a child. You were picking up Jihoon’s child? Lee Jihoon had a child.

Your brain was working overtime as you slid out of the seat and held your boss’s keys tight to your chest like a safety net. You were beginning to realize that you knew little to nothing about him. It wasn’t like you hadn’t looked him up on the internet. You had done your research before your interview and you thought you knew everything there was to know about Jihoon and his company—but nowhere on any of his biographies on any website did it mention “father”.

Smiling at the woman behind the desk, you nod your head and clear your throat in an attempt to not only calm your nerves, but to look like you belong. “I’m here to pick up Lee Haein. She is in Mr. Hong’s class.” Tilting her head at you, the woman studies you for a moment before looking over the screen in front of her and pursing her lips. “Miss Y/L/N?”

Quickly nodding, you reach into your purse, offering the woman your ID before taking a clipboard that would allow you to sign Haein out of school. “Do you know where the nurse’s station is?” You had never even been inside of this school, so the question makes your brows raise as you awkwardly laugh and offer the clipboard back to the woman. Sighing under her breath, she moves to her feet and leans over the desk, pointing back towards the door and to the left. “It’s the third down the hall. Haein will be waiting with the nurse.”

“Thank you.” Your voice is meeker than you intended as you back out of the office and into the hall, turning to the left and making your way down the hall, counting doors. Lucky for you, it wasn’t hard to find; not only did the woman give you great directions, but the word Nurse adoring the door would have given the location away—even to you.

Knocking lightly, you push the door open and wince at the automatic ding from the door alarm. You understood why it was there, but you already felt out of place and now all eyes were on you—even if it was just two sets of eyes.

“Looks like you get to go home now, Haein.” The man’s voice is soft and kind. You smile at the little girl who looks at you uncertainly before you put your hand to your chest and sigh into your words. “I’m Y/N, Haein. Mr. Lee’s…um—your dad’s assistant.”

The girl looked no older than six, and she also didn’t seem to be pleased that you were picking her up instead of Jihoon. “Where is he?” Even the sound of Haein’s voice made your heart feel heavy; she did sound pitiful.

“He’s at the office. I’m sure he’ll come home as soon as possible.” Looking back at the nurse, you take Haein’s bag when it’s offered to you before furrowing your brows tightly as you glance between him and the girl. “Should I take her to the doctor?”

Shaking his head, the man moves to his feet and runs his hand over Haein’s head as she pouts up at you both. “If she’s feeling bad in the morning, I’d say to make her an appointment. This might just be a bit of a headache and an itchy throat.” Ruffling her hair, the man watches the girl finally smile as he nods at her. “We can be hopeful, right?”

Walking beside Haein, you glance down at her a few times before the small girl meets your eyes and furrows her brows once the two of you are outside near the car. “Are you taking me to my daddy?”

Opening the back door, you purse your lips, watching Haein climb into the back and her booster seat waiting for you to not only answer her but to buckle her seat belt. Making a surprised sound, you lean forward and secure the belt as you tilt your head back and forth a few times. “Uh, I—he didn’t. You know what, I’ll ask, but wouldn’t you rather go lay down?”

Timidly, you reach up, putting your hand against her forehead, a frown finding your lips at the warmth under your palm. “We could get you something for your headache, as long as that’s okay with your dad.”

Haein pouts a bit, leaning her head back against the seat as you give her a once-over. She wasn’t even sure what she wanted, but her first impression of you was shifting. You were being nice and you were pretty. It was funny how you kept stumbling over your words, especially when you were talking about her daddy.

“I’m sleepy…” Pausing, Haein tilts her head and grabs at your hand, landing on holding your fingers as she kicks off her shoes into the floorboard. “What was your name? I don’t member. Sorry.”

There was no way you could be upset as you looked down at your fingers wrapped up in tiny ones. Clearing your throat, you press your lips together and nod at Haein before finding your voice. “Y/N.”

Nodding along with your words, Haein finally lets go of your hand and yawns your name as you take a step back and close the door, letting her rest. You could see something of Jihoon in the girl, but it wasn’t a physical resemblance; it was more mannerisms. Perhaps her physical appearance was something she took after her mom.

Her mom… Was Jihoon married? You hadn’t seen a ring on his finger, but then again, you didn’t know about a child so there was plenty he kept secret. Sighing softly, you take out your phone as you slide behind the wheel of the car, waiting for your call to connect. Adjusting the rearview mirror, your lips pull up into a soft smile as you watch Haein sleeping soundly behind you—at least you are smiling until Jihoon speaks, then your nerves take over.

“Y/N? Is everything okay? Did you get Haein?”

Rubbing your lips together, you nod before remembering Jihoon isn’t in front of you. “Yes, yes, of course, Mr. Lee. She’s napping in the car now. I just—” Pausing your brows furrowing when you realize that Jihoon had used your first name. You had heard it a few times from him, but it was so rare. “I, um—where did you want me to take her? You didn’t tell me.”

Glancing back into his office, where Mingyu was doing his best charm routine with Lee Seokmin, Jihoon smiles at the idea of Haein napping. He was worried about her, but knowing that she was with you eased his nerves exponentially. “There is a key to my house on the keyring for the car. You know the address, don’t you?”

You did know the address. You had dropped off a few things there once or twice in the time you had been his assistant, but you had never been inside for more than a few moments and never while he wasn’t there and you had never gone past the foyer. “I—yes, sir. Do you have—is someone waiting there for us? To take care of Haein? Her mother?”

Wincing to your question, Jihoon runs his fingers through his hair as he paces in front of his door. He was feeling anxious; not only at your questions, but also at the fact that he wasn’t in that room getting signatures on paper. “Uh, no. No, could you? I mean, I know it’s not your job, but I’d really appreciate it. I’ll leave as soon as this deal is done.”

You had already pulled out of the parking lot and turned in the direction of where you’d need to go to get to Jihoon’s house, but his question had you feeling faint. He wanted you to do what? To babysit his daughter? He was taking personal assistance to another level.

“Me? Well… I—I guess so. I mean, if you need me to, trust me with something so important, sir.” You hear Jihoon scoff on the other end of the phone and you wonder if you have said something wrong. Before you are able to question him, he sighs, and his voice drops not only in volume but in tone, causing your stomach to tighten. “I trust you with everything, Y/N, so yes, I trust you with Haein.”

Even after being off the phone with Jihoon for over an hour and being inside his house with his daughter tucked into her bed, you were still trying to get his voice out of your head. His words were on a loop in your head and you were feeling pathetic. Clearly, you were taking them a bit too seriously or at least in the wrong way.

Jihoon trusted you as his assistant. That was why he trusted you with his family. That was why he trusted you in his house without him. That was why you shouldn’t snoop around, and yet you were, just a little. You couldn’t help it. Lee Jihoon was a fascinating man and he sent you a single text on your way to his house.

Mr. Lee: Make yourself at home. Be there soon.

So in order to make yourself feel at home, you needed to know where things were in this large home. You had most of the layout figured out. You had easily found the kitchen and Haein’s room with her help. Before tucking her in, you had also found her bathroom and some children’s tylenol to help with her fever. Now you were discovering that Jihoon had a home studio, because, of course, he did.

There were pictures of Haein everywhere now that you really took the time to look past the foyer, but more than that, there were pictures of her with other people. Tilting your head, you pick up a framed picture from a bookshelf, noticing how the man holding a much smaller Haein looked so much like her. He had some similarities to Jihoon, but most of all, he had Haein’s eyes and her nose.

You wanted to keep studying the picture, but the sound of the front door made your heart rise into your throat as you carefully put the picture back where it belonged and moved back into the living room just in time to see Jihoon do the same. Glancing around the room, he takes a breath before he meets your eyes and lets it out with a sigh.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” Again, you weren’t going to let that go to your head. Instead, you watch as Jihoon rubs at his neck, his other hand loosening his tie as he moves towards the couch to sit down. “Is Haein sleeping? I seriously can’t thank you enough for this, Miss Y/L/N.”

It almost made you sad that Jihoon hadn’t called you by your first name in person. You liked how it sounded on his lips, even though you shouldn’t. Smoothing your hands over your borrowed shirt, you nod as you move towards where your bags waited for you in a chair next to the couch Jihoon was now occupying.

“She is, it wasn’t an issue, Mr. Lee.” Clearing your throat as Jihoon watches you fidget in place. “I gave her a dose of the children’s tylenol that was in her bathroom. She was running a bit of a fever, but I checked her a few minutes ago and it seems to be a bit better now.” Grabbing your purse, you sigh under your breath, realizing for the first time since you had arrived at Jihoon’s that you had driven his car there; yours was still at the office.

Jihoon tilts his head as you take out your cellphone and start scrolling, your purse resting on your forearm. “Thank you for doing that... What are you doing?” You were clearly concentrating on something hard; your brows were knitted together so tight that you were almost scowling at your phone. “I—uh, ordering a ride.”

Running his hand over his face, Jihoon shakes his head before leaning back on the couch and finally meeting your eyes once again. “I won’t tell you what to do, however... I’d strongly prefer you not do that. I was hoping—”

The confusion is written on your face as Jihoon stops speaking, as if coming up with his words on the spot. To you, he always seemed so confident, if not a bit intimidating, when in reality, right now he was mustering his courage. “I was hoping that you’d stay for dinner and then let me get you home. I’ll have someone here to help with Haein in a couple hours, and then I can drive you to your car myself.”

Glancing around the room, you take a breath and fill your cheeks with air as you consider his words. Finally meeting his eyes again, you nod and watch as a smile pulls at Jihoon’s lips, making it impossible for you not to mirror it shyly.

“Really? Okay… great. Perfect—uh yeah. I’ll go check on Haein, say hi, and, uh, be right back.” Jihoon was not only overflowing with confidence, but he was also articulate and precise. You were now watching him stumble over his words, a slight flush to his cheeks as he tapped his hand over the arm of the couch and got to his feet. Surely you were reading too much into this. You had to be, even as you watched Lee Jihoon glance over his shoulder at you, his hip knocking into a chair as he walked out of the room.

Sighing under his breath, Jihoon runs his fingers through his hair as he turns down the hall and is finally out of your line of sight. “Real fuckin’ smooth. Get it together.” While his words were muttered under his breath, Jihoon still feared you might hear him as he shook out his hands and took a steady breath.

It wasn’t easy to be around you like this. At work, it was so much simpler to play into his role as your boss. He got into the zone once he stepped into the building, but here? He could really see you. He could let his eyes wander more, not that he hadn’t been doing that more at the office. You were the most beautiful woman that Jihoon had ever seen and while that hadn’t been the reason that he had hired you as his personal assistant, it was a bonus. The fact that you were also one of the most interesting and endearing people that he had ever met? Well, that was icing on top of the cake.

Carefully pushing the door to Haein’s room open, Jihoon frowns a bit, seeing the way the girl’s brows were knitted together as she slept. She somehow looked even smaller than normal. Being as gentle as possible, Jihoon sits on the side of her bed and runs his fingers over her forehead, feeling for any signs of a lingering fever. He knew that you had given her medicine. However, parental instinct was taking over. It wasn’t something that Jihoon had always possessed. It wasn’t something he had even wanted, but for Haein, he’d do anything.

Fidgeting in her sleep, Haein turns on her side and wraps her hand around Jihoon’s as she mutters softly under her breath. It isn’t clear, but Jihoon knows it’s 'daddy,” and it makes his heart beat faster. “Shh, sleep, baby. Grandma will be over in a bit.”

Jihoon’s voice is soft and lulls Haein back to a deeper sleep, allowing him to carefully work his hand away from hers so he can move back to his feet and towards her door. It’s almost painful to leave her, even if he knows she needs the rest and that you are waiting for him, but a soft snore slipping from his daughter’s lips gives him the strength he needs to get moving.

Looking around the living room, you start to wander once again as you wait for Jihoon. There was so much to see in his home compared to what you were used to. While you had never forgotten how successful your boss was, seeing it around you made it all that more real.

Admiring the art on his walls, you sigh softly, not hearing him come into the room behind you, which gives him a moment to admire you. You belonged; there wasn’t any way to explain how his brain was screaming that at him, but looking at you standing in his living room already wearing his shirt. Jihoon’s brain was misfiring at the image.

“Uh, she’s still asleep, but her fever seems to have gone down, thanks to you.” Glancing over your shoulder, you feel your cheeks heat up when you realize that Jihoon is looking at you. He was quiet, or perhaps you were just distracted, but either way, his eyes were intense as he smiled at you now.

“I’m glad she’s doing better. She is very sweet.” Sighing as you lift your shoulders and drop them, and turning towards Jihoon as he moves towards the kitchen, you take a few steps towards him to follow. “I feel kinda bad for not really knowing much about her. I feel like, as your assistant, I’ve done a bad job of getting to know my boss. I didn’t even know you didn’t like coffee, much less that you had a daughter and a family.”

Tilting his head, Jihoon smiles into a laugh as he leans to open a cabinet, taking out a pot and sitting it on the stove. “Well, I mean... In your defense, I don’t really tell many people my personal details. There are a few in the office who know some things about me, but—” Clicking his tongue before laughing once again, Jihoon meets your eyes as he leans against the cabinets. “You’ll get to know me, I promise. Is ramen okay?”

Watching someone cook for you—especially ramen—isn’t how you thought you’d fall head over heels for someone, but you couldn’t take your eyes off Jihoon. Of course you had found him attractive before; how could you not? He looked like a million bucks at work in his suits without a tie, his hair perfectly styled. You practically drooled over him, but here in his kitchen, as you leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him push the sleeves of his button-up further up his arms as he chopped the green onions and kept an eye on the ramen coming to a boil, you were swooning.

“I think we can get Seokmin finalized by the end of this week.” Jihoon’s words pull you out of your domestic haze and back to the present as you finally meet his eyes, feeling your cheeks burn under his gaze. Nodding, you look away, feeling shy as you reach for the glass of water that was placed in front of you moments before. “That would be good; I know you were itching to get him under the label. He’s really talented.”

Jihoon hums along with your words, his eyes still on you even when you look down at your glass and tap your fingers on the side. God, you were stunning. This was the longest he had ever had the chance to spend with you and he knew he was wasting it by talking about work, but he was terrified. No other woman made him as nervous as you did. It was as if he would say the wrong thing and you’d fly away like a bird.

“He is. Once he’s signed, I hope to get him in the studio as soon as possible. It’s been far too long since we’ve had a new artist debut with us. His last label didn’t understand his voice; I think I could—” Jihoon watches your lips pull up into a smile as he starts to ramble, causing him to trail off. A soft laugh takes the place of his words instead as he shakes his head and reaches for an egg, cracking it into the pot in front of him. “I don’t want to talk about work; I don’t know why I’m even doing it.”

Tilting your head, you watch Jihoon’s hands as he discards the shell of the egg and rests his palms on the counter. “Because it’s easy. It’s what you know. You’re good at your job, Mr. Lee.”

Sucking his teeth, Jihoon turns from the stove and opens a cabinet in front of him to take out two bowls. “I wish you wouldn’t be so formal with me. It makes me feel like I have to do it again. Just call me Jihoon, please.”

The idea of calling Jihoon anything other than Mr. Lee makes your stomach tighten. You heard the others in your office call him by his first name and you had said it to yourself on occasion but never to him. The heat was rising along your neck and to your cheeks once again as you avoided Jihoon’s eyes, a soft smile on your lips. “Okay, Jihoon.”

That was better than anything Jihoon had ever written or heard in his life. If there was anything that he knew, it was music. He knew how to write lyrics that would bring a grown man to tears, and yet when you said his name, that smile on your face almost broke him.

Letting out a breath, Jihoon’s shoulders drop before he licks his lips and forces himself back to the task at hand. Dividing the ramen between the two bowls and giving you the egg, he slides your bowl towards you and rests his elbow on the counter. “I hope you like it, Y/N.”

You cant stop the quiet laugh that slips from between your lips when Jihoon calls you by your first name, your cheeks warming like a schoolgirl who has a crush. Pressing your lips together, you nod and pick up your chopsticks and see Jihoon smiling out of the corner of your eye as he waits for you to take the first bite before joining you. The food is simple and warms you from the inside out. It was something you’d make for yourself after a long day, but there was something special about it being made for you and the fact that it was made by Jihoon. “It’s delicious. Thank you…”

Even Jihoon had to admit that this was one of his better bowls of ramen. Perhaps it tasted better because he was sharing it with you, or maybe because he had put more heart into cooking it, but the broth was the perfect level of spice and savory on his tongue. Humming as he leans over his bowl, Jihoon nods before quietly slurping the noodles into his mouth and licking his lips. “My pleasure; the least I can do after all you’ve done for me.”

You hadn’t done much, not in your mind. You knew that Jihoon was busy. He was always at the office before you and it seemed like while he left before the rest of the staff, there was a good reason. Now you understand that he was probably picking up Haein. He was even busier than you knew.

Dropping off her bag on the table next to the front door, Jihoon’s mother is surprised when he doesn’t meet her. The soft hum of voices draws her closer to the kitchen, but seeing the look in her son’s eyes as he watches you eat and smile makes her pause. She knew that she could say something and let Jihoon know that she was there, but it was the first time that she had seen her son in love and she wanted to relish it.

Laughing softly, Jihoon takes a sip of his Coke before nodding along with your words as he learns a bit about your life. He loved learning about you—about your family, your wish for a pet, anything you were willing to share. It felt like time had frozen with you until something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and Jihoon’s cheeks started to flush.

“Mom…”

Mom? Sitting up straight, you glance in the same direction that Jihoon is looking, only for your eyes to widen to see a pretty older woman watching you both. The look on her face is kind, and her eyes are full of what seems like endearment as she laughs at both of your surprised reactions.

“Why are you both acting like I caught you doing something wrong? Please eat.” Moving towards her son, Jihoon’s mother leans to kiss his cheek before she meets your eyes as you wipe your lips and adjust your clothes, trying to look as presentable as possible in front of someone so important. “Who is this beautiful girl, Jihoon?”

Sighing, Jihoon closes his eyes for a moment, hearing his mother’s words, before he opens them and meets you almost apologetically before clearing his throat. “This is Y/N, um... Y/N Y/L/N, my assistant.”

Still smiling fondly at you, Jihoon’s mother reaches across the island to offer you her hand, which you take, letting her squeeze your hand gently. “It is such an honor to meet you, dear. I’ve never met any of Jihoon’s—” Stopping to think of the word, his mother smiles almost mischievously, turning to meet her son’s eyes. “Girlfriends.”

Opening your mouth to start to explain that you aren’t his girlfriend, that you are just, as he explained, his assistant, you aren’t quick enough as Jihoon moves to stand, laughing awkwardly and taking his mother’s arm. “Mom, thank you for coming to help. Haein should be waking up. I’m sure she’ll be excited to see you. We will be right back, Y/N.”

Lifting your now-free hand to your lips, you nod and gesture to the dishes before sliding off your stool. “Um, okay. I’ll wash the dishes.” Jihoon turns to walk backwards, his hand still on his mother as he shakes his head. “No, no… I’ll get them later. I’ll be right back.”

Turning the corner with his mother in tow, Jihoon finally meets her eyes, watching her smile widen before the two are out of line of sight of you. “What was that?” Reaching up to adjust Jihoon’s shirt, his mother carefully buttons one more button before lifting her hand to cup his cheek. “She’s very pretty, Jihoon.” Groaning, Jihoon rolls his eyes, turning away from his mother’s hand and opening Haein’s door, letting her go in first. He wasn’t going to admit out loud to his mother that she was right.

Humming along with a song in your head, you glance over your shoulder, hearing a scoff when Jihoon finally comes back to the kitchen. Clearly, you hadn’t listened to him with your hands in soapy dishwater up to your forearms. “I’m almost done. There were just a few things.”

“I told you I’d do them later.” Shaking your head, you use your elbow to turn on the sink, rinsing the last bowl as Jihoon moves to your side, his hand brushing subconsciously along your back as he takes it from you and puts it on the drying rack. “I wanted to help, besides... When you get back home, I’m sure you will have to take care of Haein, shower, and get ready for bed. Now this is done.”

Sighing softly, Jihoon turns to rest his hip against the counter as you rinse the soap from your hands. This was all so domestic, and the fact that you were worried about simple things like him having the time to take a shower before bed? Jihoon was not letting that go to his head, not even a little bit.

“And what about you? You’ll have to drive all the way home before you can do any of that for yourself. I feel awful.” Offering Jihoon a smile, you dry your hands before finally meeting his eyes and realizing how close he was standing. Swallowing hard, your smile fades ever so slightly as you take a single step back and fold the towel in your hands as you shake your head once again. "I—um, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

Jihoon was realizing that was impossible. He was having a hard time taking his eyes off of you, much less his mind. His smile lifting at one corner of his lips, Jihoon nods before gesturing his head towards the kitchen entryway. "Then, in the spirit of that, let me get you to your car so I don’t keep you out all night.”

A shirt folded in your arms, a Coke Zero in one hand, and your bag in the other, you make your way to your desk even as Soonyoung leans back in his desk chair to get a better look at you. Over the past few weeks he was getting easier and easier to ignore, even if he was also becoming one of your best friends.

“No coffee?” Lifting your brows to Soonyoung’s question, you pick up the Coke from your desk and smile at him sweetly before knocking on Jihoon’s door as the other man groans about having to get his own.

“Come in.”

Taking a deep breath, you put a smile on your face and slide past the large door letting it close behind you. Making your way towards his desk, you carefully avoid Jihoon’s eyes until you are too close to do so. “Hi, so I have your shirt and this.”

Jihoon smiles as you sit the Coke Zero in front of him before moving towards his closet to hang up the borrowed shirt. “Thanks, Y/N.” Nodding, you glance over your shoulder as you try to put the hanger on the rack once and then twice before finally hitting your mark. “Sure, no biggie. I remembered.”

His smile pulls into more of a full grin as he watches you struggle with the hanger. You were even cuter than normal, if that were possible. He had hated saying goodnight to you the night before, but he really felt like he had made progress with you. This as the most he had seen you in his office in a long time.

Swallowing hard, you turn on your heels and press your lips together before gesturing towards Jihoon and smiling softly. “How is Haein feeling?”

Jihoon liked this casual conversation, even if it was about his daughter. He wished you’d sit down, but even he had to remind himself that he should keep it somewhat professional at the office. Cracking open the drink in front of him, Jihoon nods and meets your eyes once again. “She’s okay, still a bit sickly. My mom stayed with her today, but…” You watch as Jihoon’s head tilts, a metaphorical lightbulb going off above his head as something occurs to him. “Y/N, are you busy this evening?”

When you open your mouth to speak, you close it and shake your head. A list of reasons why Jihoon would ask you about your plans goes through your head before finally— ”Could you stay with Haein for a few hours while I go to dinner?” That wasn’t on your list. He wanted you to take care of his kid while he went to dinner? What? Like on a date?

Swallowing hard, you push down your disappointment, forcing a smile as you nod politely. “Sure, I have nothing else going on. You want me to go there after work?”

Jihoon watched as your smile faded and then reappeared strained. He wouldn’t make you watch Haein; he could always ask his mom to stay longer. Even if she did have plans, but he was hoping to talk with you like he had the day before. Why did you look so upset?

“Uh, if you really don’t mind. I could use the he—”

“Nope, don’t care—I mean, I don’t mind. I’ll go and I’ll go now, out... you know, to work.” Gesturing your thumb towards the door, you take a few steps backwards before turning towards it as Jihoon says your name under his breath.

You weren’t sure you had ever felt so stupid as you did working for those few hours until Jihoon told you and the rest of the main office to have a good evening. Nodding, you avoid his eyes even as Jihoon stops at your desk to sigh, muttering that he would see you once he got home.

Waiting until Jihoon is out of the door, Soonyoung moves from his seat and walks towards your desk with his head tilted. “At home? What the hell is that about?”

Rolling your eyes, you try to wave the man off, not wanting to talk about it, but as usual, Soonyoung wouldn’t let go of something like this so easily. “Stop flailing your hand at me. Are you going back over to his house? What the fuck, Y/N?”

Sighing loudly, you meet Soonyoung’s eyes as you shrug, letting your pen fall from your fingers in annoyance. “To take care of his kid while he goes to dinner. I’m a glorified babysitter, Soonyoung.” You shake your head when he tries to argue, your hand lifting to tell him to stop. “I’m gonna go and do the right thing because I know he deserves a night out. Also, because I like Haein; she’s sweet, but I won’t fucking lie... It sucks to know I’m doing this so he can go on a damn date.”

Pushing back hard from your desk, you don’t listen as Soonyoung says your name and tries to get you to listen to reason. Instead, you push at his hand, shooting him a hurt look as you tug your purse up from the floor and onto your arm. “Y/N, I think you’re misunderstand—”

“Stop patronizing me. I’m not stupid.” Shaking his head, Soonyoung stands up to walk behind you, feeling bad for teasing you. “I’m not! It’s not even a—” The door closing in Soonyoung’s face stops him from going further, the end of his sentence said to the wooden door. “Date.”

Leaning back in his chair, Mingyu props his feet up on his desk and shakes his head at the display while Soonyoung runs his fingers through his hair. “You fucked up.”

“Me?! I think Jihoon fucked up. She thinks he’s going on a date. He needs to talk to that woman or she’s gonna quit. He’s stringing her along.” Mingyu couldn’t argue with Soonyoung, and he shared his fondness for you. Jihoon’s previous assistants were never a good fit. Either they were overly zealous or lazy. One had even leaked company information to another label, but then you got the job and everything flowed like water.

“Yeah, well… He’ll figure it out. Or we will just kill him.”

That Soonyoung could agree with.

“Miss Y/N, will you make me s’getti?”

You had gotten to Jihoon’s house in a sour mood, but quickly found that when you were around Haein, you couldn’t be upset. She was so different from the previous day. It was obvious that she was starting to feel better, and her personality was really starting to shine. She was like a little bright light in your dark evening.

“‘Course, as long as you guys have the stuff for it.” Pursing your lips, you open the pantry doors and sigh at the amount of groceries available to you. Of course, Lee Jihoon would have a stocked kitchen. You don’t know why you even considered anything different.

Pulling a few things from the pantry and then more from the fridge, you glance into the living room as Haein pulls a brush through her doll's hair and hums under her breath. You had found yourself smiling fondly at everything the girl had done, even when it was the smallest thing. She could show you that she could tie her shoe and you were praising her like a proud family member. “What’s your doll's name, Haein?”

Smiling at you from the couch, Haein lifts the doll to show it off as she moves to her knees. “I used to call her Kimmie, but I like your name better. That okay?” Biting your lip as you push the hamburger meat around in the pan in front of you, you feel your heart tighten in your chest at the little girl's words. “Mmhm, that’s okay with me.”

Your phone had gone off a few times in the night. From the time that you had left the office to the time that you had put a bowl of spaghetti in from Haein, you had been ignoring it. You didn’t need to check it to know it was probably Jihoon. It wasn’t like he didn’t know you were here. His mother had been here when you had gotten here; she had said goodbye to Haein and you knew there were security cameras in Jihoon’s house. You just didn’t find yourself wanting to talk to him while he was on a date with some girl. It wasn’t until the tenth buzz from your phone on the kitchen counter as you put leftovers into a container, you let out an annoyed breath and turned the phone over to read your texts.

Lee Jihoon: Thank you again for helping me out. I owe you big time

Lee Jihoon: Soonyoung said you were upset when you left. Is everything okay?

Lee Jihoon: Y/N?

Lee Jihoon: Are you mad at me?

Lee Jihoon: Could we talk when I get home?

Lee Jihoon: How is Haein? Are you guys doing okay?

Lee Jihoon: I checked the camera. I hate doing that. Seems like you guys are having a good time

Lee Jihoon: Feels like you are ignoring my texts on purpose

Lee Jihoon: What did I do???

Lee Jihoon: We are going to talk.

Shaking your head, you send a single text message back to Jihoon before slipping your phone into your pocket and making your way over to the couch and Haein. “What are we watching?” Giggling, Haein tells you about her Barbie movie and you listen even as you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. Your stomach in knots, you sigh softly and offer the girl beside you a smile as she adjusts to sit against you, her head against your shoulder, before pulling your arm around her tightly.

Y/N: Haein is doing great. No need to rush back. Enjoy your date, Mr. Lee.

Lee Jihoon: Be home soon, Miss Y/L/N.

You didn’t give your phone much more thought; instead, you focused on Haein as she shifted against you to lay in your lap. Your eyes are moving between her and the movie as your fingers brush her hair back from her face. You watch as her eyes slowly close and her breaths become steady and softer, sleep taking her attention from the movie.

Sighing softly, you feel your chest tighten at the sight of the little girl asleep in your lap, but more so at the feeling it gives you. You enjoy being close to her. You like that she is happy and feels comfortable enough to sleep. Despite only knowing her for a short time, you find yourself getting attached to Haein.

Shrugging his coat off, Jihoon furrows his brows tightly as he moves through the house towards the living room and the sound of the television. He was frustrated that you hadn’t been answering his messages, but that last message from you had told him more than enough about why you were acting the way you were.

He knew how he felt about you, even if it was a little terrifying for him, but if you were going to sulk and avoid him thinking that he was on a date, clearly you felt something for him too. With a plan in mind—to address the problem head-on right away—Jihoon moves into the room, only to stop in his tracks at the sight in front of him. His plan goes right out the window when he sees your fingers lazily brushing through Haein’s hair as she sleeps in your lap. Now there was no way he could avoid how he felt about you, not when you were the picture of everything he wanted in his life right in front of his eyes.

“Y/N…” Jihoon’s soft voice causes your brows to furrow as you sit up slightly, only to feel his fingers slide along your shoulders to keep you from moving to quickly and startling Haein. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Don’t wake her. She looks so peaceful.” Leaning over your shoulder, Jihoon smiles brightly as he carefully guides his fingers along the side of yours over Haein’s head with a sigh. “She looks happy.”

Jihoon had never been this close to you before and with where he had just come from, you find yourself leaning your head away from his cheek to give him space before moving your hand from his daughter’s head. “Mm, I hope she is. I can let you take her so I can get out of the way.”

Rolling his eyes, Jihoon sighs as he turns his head towards you to meet your eyes. “You aren’t in the way, Y/N. Would you stop this? You’ve avoided my messages all evening. I want to talk about what’s going on, but I do want to get Haein in her room first.” Lifting his brows, Jihoon waits for you to nod before he stands back to his full height and moves around the couch to slide his arms under her, pulling her against his chest.

Glancing over his shoulder as he takes a step towards the hall, Jihoon swallows hard, hearing you shift behind him. “Please don’t leave, okay? For me? Give me like five minutes to put my daughter in her bed and then I’ll be back.” You wanted to tell him no and leave, but the look on his face and the way he phrased his words made you settle back into the couch with another nod.

Jihoon kept his promise and less than five minutes later, you watched a less put-together Lee Jihoon make his way back into the living room. Running his fingers through his hair, he then unbuttons his sleeves and pushes them up to his elbows before finally meeting your eyes allowing you to see how nervous he really is.

“I’m pretty tired, Mr. Lee. I should be getting home soo—”

“I wasn’t on a date, Y/N.”

It isn’t just Jihoon cutting you off that makes you stop, but also what he has to say. Tilting your head, you shift nervously on the couch as he sits down next to you, closer than you anticipate. “That’s what you wrote me. Your last text... To enjoy my date? I was out for a business dinner with Seokmin and his manager. I haven’t been on a date in over two years.”

It was none of your business. He didn’t need to tell you this and you shouldn’t have even said anything. You feel guilt sitting on your shoulders as you look down at your hands and push your fingers into your palm. “Oh… Well, you don’t owe me any explanations.”

You were so devastatingly beautiful and frustrating at the same time. Scoffing, Jihoon shakes his head as his eyes stay fixed on your fingers as you nervously dig them into your palm. “Clearly I do, and I should have just explained it before when I asked you to stay with Haein tonight. There are a lot of things I need to explain to you, I think, based on how you are reacting and how Soonyoung said you left at work.”

Now you feel like a fool. Embarrassment washes over you and you lift your head, meeting Jihoon’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m—that’s so… God. I am so embarrassed, Jihoon. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today. I acted like a child when I left work; I said stupid shit.”

You watch a smirk pull at Jihoon’s lips before he glances down and nods. Obviously, Soonyoung had told him what had happened, perhaps in detail. “Made me realize that I’m maybe not alone in feeling something between us. If you can get that jealous over the idea of a date.”

Heat rises along your neck and into your face as you look away from Jihoon at what his words imply. Pressing your lips together, you furrow your brows as your brain goes from misfiring to giving you approximately a hundred reasons to bolt for the door, including the fact that Jihoon is your boss.

“Am I wrong? ‘Cause I like you, Y/N. I mean, fuck—I really like you.” Trying to hide your smile, you lift your hand, pushing at your lips, before Jihoon’s fingers wrap gently around your wrist, pulling your hand down to your lap as he whispers your name to get you to look at him. “Come on, talk to me.”

Shaking your head, you swallow hard as Jihoon’s thumb moves in a circle in your palm, keeping you grounded. “I—you’re my boss and... well, you have a daughter. I mean, not that I wouldn’t date someone with a kid, what I’m sayin—I mean.” Taking a breath you try to relax before nodding and starting over. “I don’t want to mess things up at work or for Haein. I’m sure she has feelings about her mother, wherever she is, and seeing her father with someone else might be really confusing.”

Tilting his head, Jihoon nods along with you as you finally get your concerns out. Laying your hand on his leg, he slides his fingers along your hand and brings them together, lightly scratching your skin. “Well, first of all, I’m the CEO so I can do whatever I want, but there are also three employees in the main office, Y/N. They don’t give a fuck. The other employees have never even met me face-to-face.”

Daring to spread to your fingers to catch Jihoon’s letting him hold your hand, a smile spreads over his face as he glances down at your hands and clicks his tongue against his teeth. “Two, this goes along with things I need to explain about myself. A lot of people don’t know my personal life. They don’t need to, but you do. Haein is…fuck, how do I—” Sighing, Jihoon leans his head back as he tries to think of the right words before nodding and meeting your eyes. “She’s my niece.”

Jihoon watches confusion flash across your face as you tilt your head so he is quick to continue. “But she is my daughter. I know it’s confusing. I adopted her after my brother passed away three years ago. He and his wife were in an accident and—” Sighing, Jihoon tilts his head and you notice the way his brow furrows and the strain in his voice. Shifting closer, you close your hand around his and lift your other hand, timidly reaching to brush Jihoon’s hair from his cheek as a smile pulls at his lips for the kind gesture, making it easier to go on. “Haein was already my goddaughter, so when she lost them, I didn’t want her to know loneliness.”

Leaning into your touch, Jihoon lets out another breath with a quiet, kind laugh as he lifts his hand to push his thumb against your pout. “Don’t be sad. We are okay; you can see that. One day, when she is ready, I’ll explain it all to her. She already sees the pictures of them, but she just doesn’t know who they really are. I don’t want to confuse her, so she knows me as her dad.”

Every negative feeling you had been feeling about Jihoon now makes your stomach twist with guilt. You would have never imagined that someone like him would do something like that for his brother’s child and make sure that she had the perfect life, but here he was and Haein was living that life.

“Jihoon… She’s so lucky to have you as her dad. She loves you so much.”

Smiling, Jihoon nods a bit before his nose wrinkles playfully as he glances towards the hallway and to where Haein’s room is. “I love her. She’s my world, and I spoil her too much. She’s gonna be a nightmare as a teenager.”

Your laugh is music to Jihoon’s ears and makes his heart beat faster. Sliding his fingers along your hand to your wrist, Jihoon sighs softly and licks his lips as his eyes drop to yours and your pretty smile. “Go out with me tomorrow.”

Rubbing your lips together, your laugh falls silent on your lips at Jihoon’s question and how he is looking at you. The air feels thicker and more electric with his touch and you find yourself wanting to lean in and feel his breath against your lips as his eyes drift to yours one more time.

“Where?” Now you were being coy, but Jihoon found it endearing. Smirking, he tilts his head and shifts closer to you, trailing his fingers along your arm feeling the chillbumbs erupt under his touch. “Someplace nice, dinner. Let me take you on a date, Miss Y/L/N.”

Shivering, the chillbumps spreading over your entire body, you nod, letting out a slow breath, almost afraid to speak, knowing words would be difficult. You almost want to ask Jihoon to kiss you, but you know it’s too quick and he seems to know it too as he leans back and lifts his hand. to trail the back of his fingers over your warm cheek. “Good. I’ll pick you up at 6 tomorrow. Let me walk you to the door; you said you were tired.”

Your entire day had been filled with one thought. What does someone wear on a date with their boss? You had asked friends and family, and you even considered asking Soonyoung for his advice. As the hours ticked by, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror in at least ten different outfits before finally landing on one that you didn’t hate.

Jihoon, on the other hand, had turned to Soonyoung, though he had quickly regretted it. Watching the other man from his mirror, Jihoon rolled his eyes as Soonyoung made a disapproving face at yet another shirt that he pulled from his closet. “You don’t like anything I own.”

"Well, everything you own is boring as fuck.” Smiling quickly to cover up the end of his cursing, Soonyoung glances towards the bedroom down and out into the other room to watch Haein playing with her grandmother. “Y/N is classy. She’s sexy. She deserves something different than what you wear every single day.”

Shaking his head, Jihoon pushes his shirt back into the closet with a sigh before pulling out another and holding it up, getting a head tilt from Soonyoung. “Not bad; try it on. I like the bit of pattern; it’d be better if it wasn’t so subtle.

Cursing under his breath, Jihoon tugs his shirt over his head and pulls the button up over his arms, quickly buttoning it up almost all the way when Soonyoung groans. “Leave it unbuttoned more than that, you prude. Show her some chest; give her the goods.”

“Jesus Christ… Why did I ask you to come over?”

“Because I’m your best friend and I have good fashion sense.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes as he undoes two buttons and turns towards the mirror, adjusting his shirt, tucking it into his dress pants and tilting his own head. He hated to admit it, but Soonyoung was right; the shirt looked pretty damn good on him.

Tugging at the end of your dress as you sit on your couch, you whine under your breath and watch the minutes tick down. You had wanted to just meet Jihoon at the restaurant but he had insisted on picking you up. It seemed he had wanted you to have the full first date experience with him and it was making you feel almost queasy as you waited.

You had made Jihoon tell you what restaurant he was taking you to so that you could look over the menu in advance, and despite the prices not being listed, you had a good idea of what to order. You had even gone as far as to look up reviews of the place, only to put your phone face down on your coffee table, not wanting to see any more words like worth the price, romantic, once in a lifetime experience. Those were words you didn’t associate with yourself.

Shaking his hands out, Jihoon looks up at your apartment building and puffs up his cheeks before taking the first step towards the door. It had been a long time since he had been on a date and even longer since he had been on one with someone he actually cared so much about. The last date had been a blind date set up by guys in the office and while the woman had been nice enough, she was nothing like you.

Jihoon could remember how awkward the conversation had been. He hadn’t meant to be so difficult and he honestly felt horrible by the end of the date and apologized. No day with you had ever been like that. Every single conversation Jihoon had ever had with you had been as easy as breathing for him. The awkward silences were shared by both before the two of you would smile and laugh filling the space. Even the idea brings a smile to his face and makes Jihoon’s skin erupt in chillbumps as he searches for your apartment number and last name before pressing the call button.

You hadn’t realized how intently you had been staring at your coffee table until the buzzer for your apartment went off. Putting your hand against your chest, you feel your heart beating hard and fast as you take a deep, calming breath. With one last glance to the clock, you nod and speed walk towards the intercom next to your door, clearing your throat before pressing the button and smiling into your words. “I’ll be right down, Jihoon.”

Your voice makes Jihoon almost melt on the spot. You were smiling; he could hear it and he couldn’t wait to see it. Nodding, he takes a step back and leans against the railing as he glances up at the sky, enjoying the colors. The sun had started to set, so there was this perfect mixture of pink, blue, and gold that almost looked like a painting. Jihoon finds himself hoping you’ll hurry down so he can share the moment with you and even as the thought passes through his mind, he laughs, feeling his cheeks heat up. He was falling for you hard.

Sliding your jacket over your shoulders, you quickly walk to the elevator and tap the toe of your shoe against the floor as you watch the numbers go down slower than they ever had. You knew it was a trick of your mind that the elevator wasn’t going slower than it did on any normal day, but knowing that Lee Jihoon was waiting for you made the world slow down and you wanted to see him. After spending your entire day both dreading and being excited about this date, now you were more excited than anything.

When the doors to the elevator open, letting you see the main doors of your apartment complex, you take a deep breath, seeing Jihoon looking up at the sky. If you weren’t worried that he would start to worry where you were, you might take a picture of him through the glass doors. There was something incredibly picturesque and handsome about him with the sunset on the horizon behind him, the trees on the other side of the street, and the way his hair was framing his perfect face.

Commiting the moment to memory instead, you push the door open and lower your eyes, feeling instantly shy when a quiet gasp escapes Jihoon’s lips when he sees you for the first time that evening. What you had chosen to wear was nothing special but to Jihoon, you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his entire life. You were wearing a black bodycon dress that came to your mid-thigh and a light brown long jacket that fell under the length of your dress. Even down to your shoes, black heels that no one else would probably think to look at, Jihoon was taking in every detail before he tried to meet your eyes.

“Y/N…” Whining at the sound of your name on his lips, you avoid his gaze until Jihoon’s fingers gently rest under your chin and lift your head so he can finally meet you eye to eye. “You are stunning, holy shit. I—I have to...calm down.”

You laugh so quietly and so sweetly that Jihoon’s attempt to calm down fails. A soft groan slips from between his lips before he rubs his fingers over his lips and shakes his head, moving his hand from your face to your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. “Come on, beautiful. I promised you dinner.”

You had been right about the restaurant that Jihoon had wanted to take you to. It was fancy and not something you had ever expected to experience. The food was indulgent and the wine tasted expensive, but more importantly, Jihoon couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.

More than once you had found yourself mid-conversation meeting his eyes and your cheek burning as he all but stared at you in awe. You would watch Jihoon smile and let out a soft embarrassed laugh at getting caught before he would just shake his head and sigh your name under his breath.

“I’m sorry, you are just so beautiful.”

“Jihoon… please.”

“What? It’s true. I’ve spent the last month trying to keep that to myself and now seeing you like this and knowing that I’m actually on a date with you…” Jihoon hisses into his words before sipping at his wine to keep himself in check. You watch his tongue swipe over his lips before he meets your eyes once again. “I’m so lucky.”

Shifting in your seat, you grab your own wine and take a drink to mostly hide your face and how overwhelmed you are. You had never had a man treat you the way Jihoon was. He had tried at the beginning of the date to be confident and collected but the longer he sat in front of you, the mask fell away and to Jihoon, there was no one else in the room besides you and him. No one else mattered.

“You need to eat. Your food is going to get cold, Jihoon.” Smiling at your words, Jihoon glances down at his half-eaten plate and sucks at his teeth. You were right, but that didn’t make it any easier to focus on something that wasn’t you. You were the type of beauty that inspired Jihoon to write songs and he had been composing in his brain from the moment you stepped through the doors of your apartment.

“Mm, yes, ma’am.”

Watching Jihoon finally take another bite of his food, you press your lips together and swallow another sip of your wine. He was so different than the Jihoon you knew from work. The CEO Lee Jihoon could be almost terrifying when he wanted to be. He was stern and to the point. You had seen him reduce people to tears, but the man in front of you—you believed he would do anything for you if you asked. He would be on his knees for you, waiting with baited breath if you—taking a deep breath, you push the thought from your mind as you tip your wine glass back and empty the last of your wine into your mouth.

Jihoon wasn’t the type of guy to try to invite himself into a girl’s place on the first date, but when you asked him if he wanted to come in for something to drink, he also wasn’t going to be an idiot and say no. He didn’t want the night to end yet. He didn’t need anything more with you; he might want it, but he wasn’t going to force it. Jihoon was just thrilled that you trusted him enough to invite him in in the first place.

“Listen, my apartment is small. It’s nothing fancy, like seriously, my apartment could fit in your pool.” Smiling as he walked off the elevator behind you, his eyes moving over your legs and up your back, Jihoon shook his head and let out a slow breath. “None of that matters to me, Y/N. Stop worrying about stuff like that. I’m just happy to be with you for a little while longer.”

Your heart was in your throat, not just at Jihoon’s words but at the idea of having him in your apartment. You knew it was a big deal and you knew what you were doing. No, it didn’t have to go anywhere besides just drinks and conversation, but you were beginning to hope that it would. You weren’t normally like this. You rarely brought men back to your apartment on the first date, but there was something about Jihoon and knowing that he was so busy at work and away from it that made you selfish and wanting just a little more time with him.

Whining under your breath, you push your front door open and step inside, flicking the lights on as you kick your heels off beside the door before glancing back at Jihoon as he steps inside. He doesn’t fit and yet he does. Nothing about him screams small and cozy apartment, and yet he doesn’t look completely out of place in your space. He doesn’t look uncomfortable; instead, he looks at ease as he places his shoes next to yours and slips his jacket off.

Everything about your apartment screamed you in Jihoon’s opinion. From the way you decorated to the way it smelled like your perfume, he was drowning in it happily. Moving into the living room, Jihoon quickly scans over the books on your shelf before finally meeting your eyes with a smile as you hang up your jacket along with his. You bite at your bottom lip and he can tell you are nervous. He was too, but there was something else that was bubbling inside of him that was bigger than his nerves every time he looked at you.

“Um, I have wine, beer, probably the stuff for shitty margaritas.” Scratching at your neck, you walk into your kitchen, where Jihoon can no longer see you, but he can hear you as you rummage through your fridge. “Water, Coke—it’s not Coke Zero though, and I have milk.”

Laughing under his breath, Jihoon lowers himself down on your couch and rubs his hands together, looking over the room once again at the pictures on the walls and your shelf. “Whatever you are having, as long as it’s not the Coke.”

Jihoon smiles hearing your laugh even from a room away. He can still hear the sounds of you doing things in the kitchen and he has the urge to go help you, but he doesn’t want to crowd you or make you uncomfortable so he stays where he is. Just when he starts missing you, wanting to see your pretty face, you round the corner and lift two wine glasses, showing him the white wine you have poured for the two of you to share.

“Hope this is okay. I know we had red at the restaurant, and I can promise this is cheap and probably disgusting... But it’s wine nonetheless.” Offering him one of the glasses, you sit on the couch near him, leaving plenty of space out of nerves. Jihoon takes the glass and instantly looks down at the space between the two of you, letting out a soft laughing sigh as he shakes his head and takes a sip of the wine. “The wine is okay; what isn’t is how far you are from me.”

You bite your bottom lip as Jihoon shifts closer to you, his leg against yours causing you to lower your eyes to your wine before he says your name, drawing your gaze upwards to meet his. “If you want me to move, I will, but I—is it wrong of me to want to be close to you? You are so beautiful, it’s killing me. I know I’ve stared at you all night and I should apologize for that—”

“No, no, it’s okay. You can stay here; please don’t move. I like it. I like when you look at me; it just—it’s a lot. You look at me like...” You trail off and laugh, looking away to take a sip of your wine before furrowing your brows, trying to think of the right words. Jihoon sighs, letting you have a moment to compose yourself, but in the silence he can’t help the way his eyes move over your face and down your body, landing on your hand that rests on your leg.

Wrapping his fingers around your wrist, Jihoon turns your hand in his and strokes your arm gently, smiling when he feels chillbumps erupt under his touch and hears you take a sharp breath into your words. “It’s like I’m the only person in the world.”

Nodding, Jihoon lifts his eyes to yours once again and leans to put his wine glass down on a coaster. Lifting his brows, Jihoon asks for silent permission to touch you as his fingers hover near your face. When you nod, he trails them along your cheek before gliding his thumb to your jawline. “You are, especially right now. Of course, Haein will always come first for me, but I have a feeling you understand that.”

You nod and Jihoon smiles, letting his thumb barely ghost over your lips, feeling them part, a soft breath of air meeting his skin before he moves his hand to your neck and down to your shoulder and finally trailing his fingers along your bare arm and back down to your hand. “But you are so important to me. Over the time that I’ve gotten to know you, it’s been hard not to tell you all the things I’ve told you tonight.”

Shifting on the couch, you pout, and Jihoon’s name slips from your lips as he takes your wine from your hand, putting it on the table with his own, feeling a shift in the air with his confession. “I know it’s a lot and it’s fast considering where this might go, but I have to say it because I’m falling for you.” Shaking his head, Jihoon leans his head back with a half laugh and half sigh before correcting himself. “I’ve been falling for you the entire time I've known you. I’ve just been scared to death. Between everything, our previous relationship, and what you know about my daughter now…”

It makes sense, all of his concerns. You share them and more of your own. But to say that you hadn’t been falling for Jihoon over the time you had been working for him and then even more so since you had met Haein and been introduced into his homelife, would be the biggest lie you had ever told anyone or yourself in your life.

“What if—if this doesn’t work out?” You speak so quietly that you aren’t sure you’ve spoken out loud or that Jihoon will hear you, but he does. Nodding along with your words, he furrows his brows and leans forward as his thumb moves in small circles over your wrist, trying to calm your worries. “I don’t think in what-ifs usually, but for you this time I will entertain it. If things don’t work out, we will figure it out together. I know how I feel about you and I don’t have doubts. I know how much Haein adores you, so I don’t have doubts about that either. I just need to know how you feel, Y/N.”

His certainty makes your head spin and your heart quicken. Taking a deep breath, you slide your hand towards Jihoon's, letting your nails scratch lightly over his palm as you nod and puff up your cheeks slightly. Smiling at how beautiful and cute you can be at the same time, Jihoon lifts his free hand to pinch lightly at your puffed up cheek, feeling you let out your breath when you finally do speak up.

“I like you so much. If I asked you to kiss me, would you?”

Jihoon hadn’t expected you to ask him for anything physical, but there was no way in hell he was going to deny you. Sliding his hand from your cheek to your hairline, Jihoon whispers yes as he leans in, waiting to see if you are going to ask him. When you whine, wanting him to just do it, Jihoon laughs and nudges his nose against yours. “I was waiting for you to ask.”

“Jihoon, please! Just kiss me, oh my god.” And with that, his lips press against yours, taking your words and breath away in an instant. Melting into his touch, you whine into the kiss, your hands sliding to find something to hold on to. One hand clings to Jihoon’s forearm as the other finds his chest and grips his shirt loosely, pulling him closer to you and drawing a small groan from his lips and into yours.

Jihoon’s head was spinning with only thoughts of yours and how good you felt against his lips. He had known the kiss would be better than he could ever imagine, but even he couldn’t have anticipated it being this good. He was already struggling to keep himself in check as your fingers lightly scratched at his chest through his shirt while your tongue brushed against his. Your sweet, breathy moans going straight to his cock that was quickly getting harder in his pants.

“Shit, bab—Y/N.” Stopping himself before he calls you anything besides your name, Jihoon pulls back from the kiss, feeling you chase his lips. He didn’t want to stop kissing you, but this had quickly gone from a kiss to a make-out session on your couch. “I don’t want to do anything you don’t want. So if we need to slow down…”

You loved that Jihoon was being respectful. You adored that he was such a sweet gentleman, but right now you didn’t want him to stop. Your lips were starting to feel numb from his kiss and it had you aching between your thighs for him. You had asked him for a kiss. Could you ask for more?

Lowering your lashes, you suck on your bottom lip and look up at Jihoon through your lashes, seeing the lustful look in his eyes that matches your own. “I don’t want to slow down, Jihoon. I—please? Can we…”

There was something about you not even being able to say the words out loud that made Jihoon feel like he was going insane. You seemed so innocent, so pure. Groaning under his breath, Jihoon runs his fingers along your cheek and into your hairline once again before resting his forehead against yours. Licking his lips, he nods and slides his free hand along your side to test the waters and how serious you are until he reaches your hip and squeezes lightly.

“Hm? Can we, what? What do you want, pretty girl?” Titling his head, Jihoon brushes his lips against yours, hearing you whine when he pulls them away to press a kiss on your warm cheek, speaking against your skin. “Gotta tell me.”

Embarrassment rushes through you, and you whimper Jihoon’s name, grabbing at his shirt, muttering under your breath too low to make out. Shaking his head, Jihoon cants his head towards your mouth and shivers at the feeling of your warm breath when you repeat yourself. “Take me to bed?”

Again, you were so innocent. You didn’t ask him to fuck you. You didn’t even ask him to sleep with you or to make love. You simply asked to be taken to bed. There were so many ways to interrupt that, but Jihoon knew what you meant. “Okay, baby. Is that okay? If I call you that?”

Nodding, you watch Jihoon stand up as he offers his hand to you, which you take so he can help you to your feet. Feeling your knees shake a bit, you are happy for the arm that moves around your waist when Jihoon leans to brush his lips behind your ear, a playful laugh leaving his lips when you lean against him, letting him hold you upright. “I got you. Which room are we going to, baby?”

Once Jihoon has you through the threshold of your bedroom, you finally move on your own towards your bed, reaching for a lighter to light the candle next to your bed. Jihoon glances around as the wick on the candle comes to life, providing just enough light in the room that he can look around and take in his surroundings.

If he had thought your apartment was you, your bedroom was like getting a look inside of you. The smell of your perfume was the strongest in this room and even in the low candlelight, Jihoon could see that the colors of the room, down to the bedding, were the perfect shade for you.

“Is that okay? I just want to be able to see you a little bit and the moon isn’t very bright tonight.” Smiling at your words, Jihoon nods as he undoes the buttons at his wrists while you sit on the side of your bed looking up at him, again so innocently—just like an angel. “It’s perfect and it smells just like you in here. Feels like I’m swimming in you; I might drown.”

You knew that Jihoon wrote songs—no, you knew that he wrote poetry. To say that you were a fan of the music that he had composed and produced would be an understatement, but you kept yourself composed while you were at work and when you were blessed to hear something in advance and it was him singing. Hearing Jihoon say something like he might drown in you was like hearing him sing his lyrics in person to you, and now it was you who was drowning.

“You can’t say things like that.”

Watching you hide your face, Jihoon laughs, moving towards the bed to step between your knees. Lifting your head, his fingers lightly holding your face under your chin, he watches how big your eyes get as they meet his and he almost melts under your gaze. “Why not, baby? It’s true.”

Shifting your legs as far apart as you can with your dress still snug around your thighs, you whine to the feeling of Jihoon’s fingers on your skin as you gain the courage to reach out and touch him. With one hand you wrap your fingers around his wrist and the other you rest it on his stomach, catching one of his shirt buttons under your nail.

“Cause it makes me shy. I’m already so shy around you. Can’t you just—please?” You were doing it again, not using full sentences and expecting Jihoon to fill in the blanks. Luckily for you and Jihoon, his imagination was running wild with all the things he wanted to do to you and with you.

“Yeah, I can. God, you are so pretty.” Jihoon’s fingers walk the line from your neck to your shoulder, where the strap of your dress rests. Carefully working his fingers under it, Jihoon lifts his brows like a question as he tries to take another step forward only to meet resistance and to look down at the tight skirt of your dress. “This dress is so beautiful on you, Y/N, but it’s gotta go. Can I—mm, can I take it off you?”

You knew the question would be asked and you wanted him to take your dress off, but hearing the words made your stomach flip and your heart race. Nodding quickly, you bite at your lips and shift on the bed so quickly that Jihoon can’t help but to chuckle as he takes a step back and leans down as he shakes his head and catches your lips in a soft kiss. “Slow down, pretty girl. I’ll do it. Let me do it; I want to.”

Speaking on Jihoon’s lips, you relax under his hands as Jihoon slides them along your outer thighs to where your dress sits tight against your skin. “Okay, Hoon.” You don’t even mean to shorten his name, but you already feel drunk off him as soon as his fingers press under the end of your dress and start to shimmy it up your body inch by inch.

Smiling against your lips at the shortening of his name, Jihoon leans over your body, laying your back on the bed, feeling you lift your hips as his hands reach them. He only pulls away from your lips to make it easier to get your dress off, but the sight isn’t one he ever wants to forget as you arch your back and bite at your lips, giving him the honor of taking off your dress and completely leaving you in your lingerie.

Jihoon swallows hard as his eyes move over you slowly. He hadn’t told you what his favorite color was and yet you were lying on your bed covered in it. Red lace adorns your body in all the right places, leaving just the right amount to his imagination as he gives into temptation and trails the back of his fingers between your breasts, over your stomach, and stops just on top of your clothed pussy.

“The most gorgeous fucking woman in the universe, I swear to God. Baby, look at you. I almost don’t want to take any of this off of you.” Your cheeks and neck burn from Jihoon’s overwhelming attention as he moves his fingers back up your body, stopping to squeeze your hips and then ghosting each of your breasts, causing your nipples to harden. “Did you know this is my favorite color? Even more so now. I’ll imagine it on you all the fucking time now.”

Turning your face from Jihoon, you smile once again feeling shy even though you are enjoying his words and his attention. The sound of Jihoon’s laugh makes your skin feel like it’s on fire, especially when his lips hover over your collarbone once he is able to stand between your legs, finally close enough to gain access to any part of you he wants. “You are so shy. God, it’s so cute, so sweet. It’s killing me. What am I gonna do with you?”

You knew what you wanted him to do with you, but as much as you wanted to rush him and to get him inside of you there was something in your brain stopping you from doing that as Jihoon’s fingers turned your face back towards him to watch him stand back up in front of you. Your mouth falls open slightly as your eyes stay fixed on him, his nimble fingers carefully undoing the expensive shirt that you had admired more than once through out your date, and while you love the shirt on him you find that you love it on your floor even more.

“Oh my god…” The soft exclaim leaving your lips makes Jihoon smirk, his ego inflating even slightly as he drops his shirt in the floor leaving him shirtless in front of you. He knew he was in shape, he worked hard on it and he had seen you look at him in his tanktops early in the morning at the office more than once to know you would be interested in seeing him like this. Running his hand along his abs, Jihoon grabs his belt and undoes it quickly as you squeeze you thighs together only for you to whimper when he pushes his knee between your knees and shakes his head.

“As much as I want to see those panties get ruined, I wanna be the one doing it. Be a good girl for me and keep those thighs apart for me. I’m almost done, baby.” Nodding as you do as you are told, Jihoon moves his leg back and unbuttons his pants sucking on his bottom lip as he pushes them down in one swift motion. “That’s better. Now we are even, right?”

You didn’t want him wearing anything. You could see the outline of his cock and it was making you equally shocked and feral. You wanted to get on your knees for him and show him what you could do with it, but at the same time you were too stunned to move, so instead you just nod and lick your lips feeling your mouth starting to water.

Jihoon could understand the feeling as you lick your lips. He was doing the same looking at you, his eyes falling between your legs. He hadn’t been lying about wanting to ruin your panties. All he could think about was how wet you might be for him. He knew he was being cocky in hoping you might be soaking through your lace, but with how you were acting, he had a feeling he wasn’t that far off.

“Can I touch you? Are you still okay, baby? Wanna keep going? I won’t make you—” Hearing you whine his name, Jihoon laughs understanding your answer to all his questions. “I just wanted to ask, angel. Trust me, I wanna keep going. Fuck, let me get you on this bed.”

Gasping, you are surprised when Jihoon lifts at your hips and scoots you on the bed shifting you into the middle with almost no effort. Meeting your widened eyes, he grins moving to place one knee next to yours and the other between your knees as he looks down at you like you are a five course meal. “Didn’t think I’d move you?”

“I–-you could have let me do it myself…” Shaking his head, Jihoon lift his hand to your shoulder pulling the strap of your bra down your arm before leaning to press his lips to your skin listening to your soft moans as he speaks against your soft skin. “I’d never ask you to do a damn thing when we are in bed. I’m gonna have you so fucking spoiled, baby.”

Arching off the bed, you grab at the bedding under and carefully run your fingers through Jihoon’s hair for the first time as his lips find the swell of your breast over your lace. You moan not only to his words, the feeling of his lips against your skin, but also the feeling of his hair in between your fingers. You find yourself wanting to run your fingers through his hair all the time, not just in moments like this, but also when the two of you are watching a movie, laying in bed ready to sleep, or while he’s working…

Pushing the thought from your mind, you let out a soft cry when Jihoon’s teeth rake over your nipple, his fingers tugging your bra down from one breast so he can have access to your bare skin. “Fuck… You are so soft.” Swallowing hard at his own words, Jihoon shakes his head and runs his tongue around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth with a groan hearing your breathy sighs of pleasure.

He wanted to have his lips on every single inch of your body if possible. If he could do it all at once he would, but he knew that was impossible so he was taking his time. Reaching behind your arched back, Jihoon undoes your bra feeling it give way under his fingers so he can pull it from your body giving him more access to your skin. As much as he loved the lace on your body feeling your bare skin against his was better. The feeling of your soft breasts against his face was heaven as he pressed kisses from one nipple to the other taking it into his mouth with a satisfied groan.

There was no way to explain how good you tasted. Your skin tasted perfect on Jihoon’s tongue and he hadn’t even made it past your chest. His cock was leaking heavily in his briefs as he rolled his hips against your thigh, his own pressed against the wet lace covering your pussy. With each movement, each groan from Jihoon, he would rock his thigh against you drawing out another moan that would cause his cock to jerk.

“So good. You sound so pretty, baby. Just taking my time...” You were too drunk off the feeling of Jihoon’s mouth and body against yours to be upset that he was taking his time, but you could tell that he was. You had never had someone move so slowly with you. If it had been any other man in your bed, their cock would have already been in you without much or any prep, and it would have been done in moments—but Jihoon was slowly making his way down your body, kissing every mole and scar as he went.

When Jihoon did finally reach your hips, you bit your lips, feeling his fingers push into the sides of your panties, resting over your hipbones. Glancing down at him, your breath quick and uneven, you meet his eyes and see him smile before he presses a kiss just below your belly button.

What happens next leaves you breathless when Jihoon’s tongue runs from your mouth just above your ass to your mound over your lace, letting him taste you through your panties. Smirking against the lace, Jihoon meets your eyes once again as he nips at your pussy through your panties, feeling your thighs quiver on either side of his head. Only when whispered pleads are falling from your lips does Jihoon’s fingers finally start to tug your panties down your legs so he can drop them to the floor along with the rest of your clothes.

“I told you I wanted to ruin them. I always keep my promises, babe.” Jihoon watches you swallow hard as you try to catch your breath, already feeling the coil in your stomach starting to tighten. “Now let me see you.” Spreading your legs once again, Jihoon groans as he watches the candlelight hit your glistening folds. He had been right about how wet you were. He was starving for you and he wasn’t done worshipping you.

Running his fingers along your legs from your ankles to your thighs, Jihoon keeps his eyes on yours as he lowers himself back between your legs to press a kiss to each of your thighs before doing the same to your wet pussy.

Licking his lips, Jihoon closes his eyes to the first real taste of you, a shiver running through his body before he adjusts between your legs and pulls you closer to him, making you gasp. One hand wrapped around your leg at your hip, Jihoon spreads your folds, while with the other he carefully circles your dripping hole with his index finger before working it in feeling you clench around it.

“Shit… Tight. Gotta relax for me, okay, baby?” Jihoon watches you nod even though you aren’t sure how he expects you to relax when he thrusts his finger into it, and it feels so good. You aren’t sure how he wants you to stop clenching around his finger tightly when he finally runs his tongue between your folds and groans finding your clit and sucking on it. You only manage to push down on his finger and tighten around it more. “Fuck, taste so good.”

Leaning his head back to shake his hair from his face, Jihoon smiles when you thread your fingers back into his hair. Not only does he enjoy the feeling of your fingers in his hair, but it also lets him get back to work. With a second finger joining the first, Jihoon’s mouth is back on your folds. He gently sucks them into his mouth and hums in appreciation as he once again works his way back up to your waiting clit, flicking his tongue against it, causing you to practically scream his name.

You had been so quiet up to that point that when you scream his name, Jihoon closes his eyes and ruts his hips into the mattress, afraid he is going to cum from just the sound alone. The pressure that had been building inside of you comes to a head and with one more brush of Jihoon’s fingers against your spot, you come undone.

Tugging tightly at his hair, you whimper Jihoon’s name much quieter this time as your cum seeps around his fingers. Groaning to the feeling of his hair being pulled and the taste of your cum on his tongue, Jihoon carefully slips his fingers from you and replaces them with his tongue until you are closing your thighs around him and begging him to stop.

Running his fingers through his hair, Jihoon sucks the fingers of his other hand clean as he watches you catch your breath. Smirking around his fingers, he watches a smile spread over your lips when you realize he’s watching you closely. “Stop it… I’m shy.”

“I know. I’m not sure I ever want you to lose that. It’s driving me crazy.” Putting his hand next to your head, Jihoon rests back between your legs so he can kiss you softly. The feeling of your hands tracing his sides makes him shiver and grin against your lips before he deepens the kiss. Groaning into the kiss, Jihoon finally pulls back to look down at you as you stare up at him breathless once again, an almost fucked-out look on your face before he’s even been inside of you.

“Gotta have you, baby. Will you let me?” Whining his name, you nod to Jihoon’s words, watching him smile once again as you squirm under him. “Gotta be patient. I gotta…” Moving to the side, Jihoon groans as he tugs his briefs down his legs, hissing as the air hits his hard cock. “Better, now I can—what’s that look for?”

Your eyes had widened almost dramatically by the time Jihoon had turned back to you. Holding back his laugh, he tilts his head and glances down at his cock, lifting his brow before reaching for your hand and guiding it to his shaft, helping you wrap your fingers around him. “Was it about my cock? I'm not that big, baby… So tell me what’s going on in that pretty head.”

Shaking your head, you bite your lips as Jihoon guides your hand along with his to his head, collecting some pre-cum so he can stroke his cock slowly. “It’s perfect… God, I sound so stupid, but you’re…like everything.” Lifting your free hand to hide your face, you groan in embarrassment, feeling Jihoon’s hand fall from yours, letting you do the same.

“Baby…” Now he was laughing, but you could tell it wasn’t at you. Instead, Jihoon was enamored by you. He had been falling for you before and now he had fallen, hard. Moving your hand, Jihoon kisses your fingers and palm before doing the same to your cheeks and lips. “Thank you, it’s not stupid. You’re perfect. You make me feel so good about how I look. I hope I do the same for you.”

He had done more than that. You were no stranger to being self-conscious, but with how Jihoon had spent what felt like hours worshipping your body, you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world. Nodding, you lean your head against the pillows and pout. Jihoon smirks, reaching up to push his thumb against your bottom lip.

“Now… Can I make love to you? Cause that's all I wanna do in this bed. It’s what I’ve been dreaming of doing since... Fuck, I can’t even tell you how long.”

You hadn’t expected those words from Jihoon. You didn’t know that he wanted to make love to you. Love was such a scary but wanted word for you. You wanted to love him, and maybe you already did, but you weren’t going to say it out of fear of scaring him away. “Please, it’s what I want, too.”

Fingers once again move over your skin, trailing along your side to your hip as Jihoon nods. His lips find yours before quickly moving to your jaw and then your neck, causing you to throw your head back against the pillow with a moan. Before you could feel his cock throb behind his briefs, but now it lay heavy against your thigh and pre-cum was leaking on to your skin with each sound dripping from your mouth.

“Please... need you.”

Jihoon loved how shy you were, but he also loved hearing you tell him what you wanted. You needed him. Needed. He’d give you the world, but tonight he’d make sure you had everything you wanted before he’d let himself have a single thing. “Anything, baby. It’s yours.”

Jihoon’s words are muffled against your throat as his fingers slide along your leg to your knee, pulling it up to his hip. You gasp, feeling his finger brush through your folds, before you feel the same thing with the head of his cock and finally the stretch of him pushing into you slowly.

You had felt like heaven on Jihoon’s fingers and tongue, but it was nothing compared to how you felt around his cock. Even before he was completely inside of you, Jihoon felt like he couldn’t breathe with how tightly you were holding him and with how your body was pulling him closer.

“Sh-shit… fuck.” Resting his forehead against your shoulder, Jihoon stays still, his hips flush with yours, feeling your walls quiver around him. He waits for you to tell him to move, not just to make sure you have adjusted but also to give himself a moment to calm down. He felt like he could cum instantly. It had been too long since he had been with anyone and you felt better than anyone he had ever been with. It was like you had been made for him specifically.

Rubbing your hands along his arms, you feel tears collect on the rims of your eyes as the stretch eases and becomes pleasure. You find yourself wanting Jihoon to move, needing him to move, and wanting to feel his cock deeper, harder, and faster. Leaning your head towards his, you kiss his temple and whisper, “Move, please, Hoon.”

He starts slow, each thrust smooth and precise, but quickly as your and his breath become more moans than anything, the thrusts become urgent and full of need. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” You weren’t sure why Jihoon’s words made you clench harder around him. Why did hearing him whine your name as he fucked into you so hard as his fingers moved to lace with yours against the mattress make you feel like you were floating?

Jihoon grunts before his lips find yours once again, his kiss desperate and passionate. He nips at your lips before licking his tongue into your mouth, feeling your tongue against his own. There is something different about this kiss—more heated and important than any other kiss than any other kiss that either of you have shared with any other person in your life. Both of you seem to feel it as your fingers tighten in his grasp, the feeling of electricity passing between your touch and his as the coil in your abdomen snaps once again.

While Jihoon had loved the feeling of you cumming on his fingers, feeling you cum on his cock was another thing all together. He could barely keep his head as he watched the bliss take over your face, the way your lips parted, and how your eyes fluttered closed. It was enough to push him over the edge right behind you.

Panic takes over Jihoon; you hear him curse under his breath and feel him slip from you before the feeling of his warm cum hits your lower stomach and thighs. Groaning, he strokes his cock, feeling it soften in his hand. It wasn’t how Jihoon would have preferred to finish, but you had felt too good and his climax had almost snuck up on him.

Leaning to rest his head against your chest, Jihoon takes a deep breath, feeling your fingers run through his hair as he listens to your heart racing. “I gotta get you cleaned up. That was not the plan. I’m sorry, babe.” Jihoon places a kiss to the top of your breast before meeting your eyes, a shy look in his eyes as you shake your head and smile at him.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad. I—” Laughing, you turn your head embarrassed, lifting your hand to bite at your thumbnail, making Jihoon curious at what you were going to say. “What? Hey, come on. Tell me?” Gently pulling your hand from your lips, Jihoon tilts his head, shifting from between your legs to your side.

You swallow hard and glance down at your stomach and legs to where his cum paints your skin before sighing and avoiding his eyes as you speak. “You could have stayed inside of me. I’m on birth control, Jihoon.”

Laying back on your bed, Jihoon runs his hand over his face with a groan, feeling his cock twitch slightly to your words. “You can’t say something like that to me. I can’t get hard again this quick.” Rolling off your bed, Jihoon glances around before pointing at your bedroom door as you laugh, watching him try to orient himself. “Bathroom is across the hall.”

You were doing your best not to act like things were different between you and Jihoon, but the moment you stepped into the office, you were hyper aware of every little detail. You would realize you were staring at his door too long or that you were smiling at him just a little too widely before you’d quickly look away and fiddle with something on your desk.

Jihoon, on the other hand, wasn’t that concerned. He was enjoying your lingering glances and seeing a smile on your face. He wasn’t being subtle about how he was looking at you. Why would he be? You were so beautiful and his. He wanted to scream that at the top of his lungs, but he could tell that you were still nervous about it so he kept his affection for you subtle at first.

Gentle touches to your shoulder that would move to your neck when he thought no one else was looking or whispering compliments against your ear as he leaned behind you to look at something on your computer. He was just observing your work; no one could blame him.

It was all driving you crazy, and neither of you were being as subtle as you thought as Soonyoung smirked at the two of you from his desk. He knew about the date and now, watching as you sighed with a lovesick look on your face as Jihoon closed his door, leaving you to work, Soonyoung laughs under his breath, drawing your attention. “What? Why are you laughing at me?”

Putting up his hands, Soonyoung grins and turns his chair back towards his desk before leaning back in it so that he can still look at you. “You’re cute, Y/N.” Mocking your soft sigh, Soonyoung puts his hand on his chest and your cheeks heat up instantly. You hadn’t even realized you had been doing it, but hearing it come out of Soonyoung’s mouth made it obvious.

“What am I missing?” Lifting his brow, Wonwoo taps his pen against his desk as he leans forward, curious about the conversation he was being left out of. You looked like you had been caught doing something bad and Soonyoung looked like that cat who ate the canary. “Mingyu, do you know what Soonyoung is going on about?”

Shaking his head, Mingyu looks from you to the other man and purses his lips before shaking his head and looking back at his computer. “I don’t know. Y/N has been breathing louder than usual today... I just figured she had a cold.”

Nodding along with Mingyu’s words, Soonyoung gestures towards you and laughs under his breath. “She is sick, aren’t you? Love sick?” Shocked at Soonyoung’s words, you try to defend yourself when Mingyu looks up surprised; now the conversation has his attention.

“I—what? No…that’s—shut up, Soonyoung.”

Jihoon rolls his eyes hearing Soonyoung teasing you. He knew it was bound to happen. He didn’t care if any of them knew about the relationship between you and him. He was proud to call you his, but listening to you try to come up with an excuse was making his blood boil with something akin to jealousy. Jihoon didn’t want you to say there wasn’t anything between the two of you or that you were seeing anyone else. You were his, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Just as you start to say something else, come up with some excuse as to why you are acting the way you are. Jihoon’s office door opens and the room falls silent. Glancing around at each desk, Jihoon lifts his brow at the shift in the air before laughing under his breath. “Idiots…”

“Huh?” Your sweet, confused voice brings Jihoon back to his reason for leaving his office in the first place. Looking down at you, he coos and shakes his head, running his fingers along your cheek leaving you frozen in place. “Not you, baby. Those idiots. I have to run out for a bit. Keep this place running for me.”

Nodding, you swallow hard as Jihoon calls you baby in front of everyone. Not daring to look around even though you feel eyes on you, instead you meet Jihoon’s eyes and his possessive gaze. “Thank you.” You start to respond, you aren’t even sure what—maybe a no problem or a you’re welcome—but Jihoon’s lips brush over yours and any thought that was in your head is gone as if it never existed.

Frozen in place, you only manage to watch Jihoon pull his car keys from his pants pocket as he walks by Soonyoung’s desk and pushes his chair inwards. “Work on something, moron. Earn what I pay you.”

The sound of the office door closing and low whistles bring you back to reality. You feel the heat radiating from your cheeks and neck before you look down, smiling at your keyboard, unsure what to think or do.

“Holy shit, Y/N.”

“No, see… ‘Cause I knew they went on a date. I just didn’t know it went THAT well. I want all the fucking details, baby.”

The voices of the others in the office overlap as they continue to gossip about you and Jihoon, wanting you to give them anything, but you can only focus on the feeling of where Jihoon’s lips were.

“She’s gone. We’ve lost her. Nothing left in her head. What do you mean you knew about it, Soonyoung?”

Even a month into a relationship with you, Jihoon finds himself needing to pinch himself to make sure he’s not dreaming. He can’t get over how lucky he is as he watches you with Haein and how natural this all comes to you.

When he had adopted Haein, it was difficult. She had been a baby and there was a lot that Jihoon didn’t know. Luckily he had the support of his mother, but there was still a huge learning curve and a ton of sleepless nights filled with a crying baby, but he had a feeling that you would have picked up on motherhood so naturally.

“Isn’t Y/N dress so pretty, Haein?”

Your cheeks heat up as you glance towards the kitchen, seeing Jihoon smirking at you from behind the island as he preps dinner. Not only was the compliment from him making you weak but also just the sigh of him doing something so incredibly domestic. You loved this more than you had admitted to anyone. Yes, you had let it slip here and there to family and friends how much you were falling for Jihoon and this family dynamic, but you had never said it to him.

“It’s the mostest pretty. She’s the prettiest! I hope I can grow up and be as pretty as you, Miss Y/N.” Haein’s voice causes your chest to tighten and your heart to beat hard as you look at her sitting across from you at the coffee table. Shaking your head, you reach out to run your fingers over her cute face, hearing her giggle as she leans into your touch.

While you had fallen in love with Jihoon, you had fallen in love with Haein in a completely different way. You wanted this little girl in your life in some shape or form, no matter what happened between you and Jihoon. She had become far too important to you over the space of a month.

“You are so pretty, Haein. You are only going to get even more beautiful.” Tapping the tip of her nose, you watch the girl smile brightly at you as her shoulders rise and fall with a big breath. Jihoon’s smile matches Haein’s before he sighs and shakes his head, feeling his heart beating harder now.

“My beautiful girls. How did I get so lucky, huh?”

While Jihoon’s words make Haein giggle, your fingers holding hers as you paint them a soft pink, the words have a different effect on you. You smile but you have to bite at your cheek to keep back your emotions as Haein sighs dramatically and shrugs. “Just lucky, daddy.”

Noticing how quiet you’ve gotten as he puts the chicken into the pan, Jihoon grins at his daughter before turning his attention to you. He knew you were trying to do a good job at painting Haein’s nails, but there was something on your mind. He knew that look—your brows furrowed and your lips pursed slightly—but before he has the chance to ask if you are okay, Haein’s voice once again feels the empty space, completely unaware of anything going on.

“Daddy, can I have soda? I’ve only had one today. Ask Miss Y/N. I’ve been really good!”

The look on your face is quickly replaced by fondness as you look up at Haein reaching for her other hand. Tilting your head, you glance over to Jihoon, meeting his eyes and smiling at him as you wait for his answer about Haein’s soda, putting him on the spot.

“I—this feels like a trap. The rule is one soda a day. You’re using Y/N to get your way... That seems unfair, Haein.” Jihoon can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips when Haein tries to pout, but a laugh quickly takes the place of it and she sighs, looking at you for support.

“Tell him, I was real good. Wasn’t I? I cleaned my room, almost. Least the clothes. That’s prog-dress!”

You want to be on Jihoon’s side and tell her to stick to the rules, but the moment she tries to quote Jihoon and mispronounces the word progress, you lose any hope at telling her no. Whining softly, you look from Haein to Jihoon and tilt your head only to see him roll his eyes and lean his head back with an annoyed groan. “Fine, one more soda, you little cheater.”

Looking down at her fingers as she wiggles in place, Haein waits for you to finish the last one before she stands and starts to move towards the kitchen, only to hear you gasp her name. “Haein, baby, let me get it for you. Your nails aren’t dry yet.”

You hadn’t called her many sweet names before, so hearing you call her baby like her daddy had before puts a pout on Haein’s face as she moves to your side and wraps her arms around your neck. “Okay, Miss Y/N.”

Furrowing your brows, you put your arms around Haein at the sudden affection, looking towards the kitchen where Jihoon watches as he finishes up dinner. You can see the happy, enamored look on his face as he simply nods at you and turns to pull plates from the cabinet.

Brushing your fingers through Haein’s hair, you lean your head back to look at the girl, seeing a pout on her lips that causes your smile to drop almost instantly in concern. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Nodding, Haein looks down shyly before muttering, “I just like you a lot. I hope my daddy lets you be my mommy. Is that cheating?”

Closing your eyes, you swallow hard as you shake your head and lean your head forward, resting your forehead against Haein’s and running your hand along her back. “No, it’s not. You know your daddy was kidding before, right? He’s just picking on you about the soda.”

You hear Jihoon moving in the kitchen, perhaps getting closer to you and Haein in the living room, but you keep your attention on the little girl in your arms as she sniffles. It isn’t until you feel the couch dip behind you and feel Jihoon’s arm move around you so that he can run it over Haein’s head that you know for sure he’s joined you both.

“What’s this about, huh? Soda? I said you could have it. I even made the chicken you like.”

Glancing up at her dad, Haein pouts at him and it almost breaks Jihoon’s heart as she slides from your arms and moves to him letting him hold her closely. “Hey, seriously, what’s going on?” Leaning back against the couch and Jihoon’s legs, you sigh softly and tilt your head back enough to meet his questioning eyes. Haein had spoken quietly and Jihoon must not have heard what she said. You knew you needed to tell him why she was acting like she was, but it was a lot to say to your boyfriend of a month.

“Uh, she’s okay, I think. Just… said she likes me and said that she hopes—um.” Licking your lips, you look down away from Jihoon, hoping it will make it less awkward to say. “That... you marry me and then she asked if that was cheating.” Laughing softly, a bit awkwardly, you press your lips together as Jihoon whispers, “Oh,” under his breath and rocks Haein gently.

“No, baby… That’s not cheating. Hey, I like Y/N. So, so, so much. Let’s leave the adult stuff like mommy and daddy stuff to us though, okay? That’s important business, not chicken dinner business.”

He was good at this, being a dad. You knew it wasn’t what he had planned but to you, Jihoon was made for it. You watched as Haein’s frown slowly turned into the smile you loved and quickly she was giggling as Jihoon’s fingers ran along her sides, tickling her. Jihoon had her nodding and then running towards the dining room table ahead of you both with the promise of soda before you could even think of the right words to help.

Taking a deep breath, you lean your head back while keeping your eyes clear of Jihoon’s. You could still feel the warmth plaguing your cheeks and when Jihoon’s fingers brush over them so does he. “Someone is embarrassed.” Rolling your eyes, you do finally look at Jihoon before leaning away from his hand, causing him to laugh and reach further to pinch your cheek. “It’s cute, baby. She likes you that much. That’s a huge deal.”

You knew it was; you honestly didn’t need Jihoon to remind you. It was weighing on you like a ton of bricks because what if Jihoon didn’t like you that much? Nodding, you sigh and move to your feet as Jihoon’s eyes stay on you. “Mm, well, like you said, this is not a chicken dinner business, Mr. Lee. Come on.” Offering him your hand, you finally smile, and Jihoon matches it, sliding his hand into yours.

Collecting dishes while ignoring Jihoon’s complaints, you move around to Haein’s empty seat before slapping at his hand as it slides along the back of your leg near your ass. Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you lean around the wall to look at Haein playing with her dolls.

“Quit, Jihoon. She might see and how are you going to explain that one to a five-year-old? Do you want to explain the birds and the bees this early?”

Grinning, he slips from his seat and slides his hand along your arm, taking the plates from your hand hearing you whine even as his lips press to your cheek. “She’s not even in the room and she’s not paying attention. Go, I’ll put these in the sink and then I’ll get her to bed.” Lifting his brows, Jihoon watches as you sigh and tilt your head, not wanting to give up. “Shoo. I wanna spend time with you tonight and I can’t until the little monster is asleep.”

You want to keep pouting or maybe stoic at Jihoon’s words, but it’s impossible when he nudges you and practically whines his words to get you moving. “Fine, fine. Hurry up.” Watching him over your shoulder, you move into the living room towards Haein, sitting on the couch behind her. It’s easy to tell she’s tired even as she pretends not to be, something you know she tends to do especially when you are around wanting just a few more minutes with you.

Trying to hide her yawn in her elbow, Haein looks up at you with a big smile but you can see the way her eyes are watering from such a big yawn. “Hi sleepy girl. Are you ready for bed?”

Shaking her head, Haein pouts dramatically, picking up the brush for her doll's hair as she leans back against your legs, letting you hold on to her. “No, not yet. I want you and daddy to tuck me in tonight. Dat okay? You’re not too sleepy, right?” As if she’s suddenly concerned you might be too tired to help her, Haein looks up at you searching your eyes, but only sees your smile.

“I’m not tired. I’d be happy to help your daddy.”

Wiggling happily in your arms, Haein looks toward Jihoon when he finally moves into the living room. Lifting her doll towards him, she giggles and leans back against your chest as if she’s claiming you. “Miss Y/N is gonna help tuck me in.”

Rolling his eyes, unable to hide his smile, Jihoon sighs and nods. “I heard, so why don’t you get your booty moving then, huh?”

Patting Haein’s stomach, you hear her laugh before she starts moving, grabbing the rest of her dolls and running towards the hallway and her room. Shaking his head, Jihoon groans under his breath as he runs his fingers through his hair, following after her. “Haein! What did I tell you about running in the house?”

You stay where you are for a moment longer, enjoying seeing yet another domestic moment from Jihoon. You wanted to capture little moments like that and put them in a book that you could look back on and remember for the rest of your life. You wanted to remember the feeling of Haein in your arms, her sweet laugh against your ear, before she happily ran off only to see Jihoon halfheartedly grumble about some rule that he wasn’t that strict about. This was your happy place now.

Hearing your name from the other room, you move to your feet and finally follow Jihoon and Haein into her bedroom. You see Jihoon putting her dolls back into her toy chest as Haein, now dressed in her pajama’s smiles at you from her bed, lifting her hands, making grabby hands.

“I’m coming; don’t worry.”

Looking over his shoulder, Jihoon scoffs seeing Haein reaching for you as you sit on the side of her bed, pushing her covers up to her chest. “Why am I here again? To put up toys?”

“Daddy…”

“Yeah, yeah…”

You smile when Jihoon sits on the other side of Haein’s small bed and leans to press a kiss to her forehead. Sighing, he sits back and tucks the covers you had moved around her body as he lifts his brow, watching how big her smile gets as she looks from him to you and back. “What? Why are you looking at us like that?”

Reaching for one of his hands and one of yours, Haein pulls them up to her lips, placing a kiss on each one before sighing happily. “Nothin’ daddy. Today was a good day. I love you.”

Furrowing his brows, Jihoon lets out a slower breath and nods in agreement with his daughter. It had been a good day. “I love you too, baby.”

You were trying not to let your emotions get the better of you as you rubbed your thumb along the back of Haein’s hand and pressed your lips together when she looked at you again and smiled brightly, reminding you of a mixture of Jihoon and the picture of Jihoon’s brother in his office.

“I love you, Miss Y/N. I hope you sleeps good. Thank you for tucking me in.”

Leaning your head back to stop the tears that had gathered on the rims of your eyes from falling, you nod and laugh softly as you sniff lightly before looking down at Haein. “You’re welcome and I hope you sleep good.” Looking at Jihoon, uncertain if you should say that you love Haein back, you see the fondness in his eyes so you simply smile and meet Haein’s eyes once again. “And I love you too.”

It was a big step you had made with Haein and Jihoon with those three little words, but you had meant them. Haein was thrilled to hear them, leaning up to hug you tightly before curling up back into her bed and whispering her goodnights to you both. Jihoon kept his eyes on you, reaching for your hand as he walked through the door, only stopping to close it behind him, telling Haein he loved her once more before letting it click behind him.

You were nervous and Jihoon could tell. He could feel your hand trembling in his; he could feel how you almost wanted to pull away from him, but he wasn’t going to let you spiral. Instead, he pulled you back to him as soon as the two of you were in the living room and held you close, resting his lips against the side of your head.

“Thank you, Y/N. That meant a lot to her and to me.”

Closing your eyes, you sigh softly, resting against Jihoon, feeling his fingers run along your back as he soothes your nerves. It was scary to be this close to someone emotionally and yet it was all you wanted when it came to Jihoon and Haein. When you weren’t with them, it felt like you were homesick.

“Mm, I was hoping that it wasn’t crossing the line. I never wanna do—”

Shaking his head, Jihoon leans back and cups your cheek in his hand, causing you to stop speaking mid sentence. You can see the look in his eyes. He didn’t want you to finish what you were going to say. You were always doubting yourself, especially when it came to him and Haein, and perhaps you didn’t need to.

“Enough of that, please? You are so important to us. You’ve never crossed a line. I—” Sighing, Jihoon slides his fingers down from your face to your neck as he looks over your face, trying to think of the right thing to say. You hear the slight whine in his voice, the nervousness that he has to fight in order to get out his words. “I love you, Y/N.”

The tears that you had to fight back in Haein’s room weren’t nearly as easy when it came to Jihoon. Turning your head from him, you close your eyes and still tears manage to slip on to your cheeks before you can reach up to wipe them away. Concerned, Jihoon leans his head towards yours and gently turns your face back towards him to see you smiling, a soft whine of protest slipping from your lips that makes him laugh when he realizes you are okay.

“I thought—why are you crying, baby? I didn’t mean to make you sad.”

Shaking your head, you reach up with one hand to hold Jihoon’s wrist as you open your eyes and pout at him when you see the smile on his face. “I’m not sad, Jihoon. I’m really happy. I’m so happy that it’s stupid. I don’t deserve any of this.” Gesturing towards the hall behind him, you sniff back more tears as Jihoon reaches up with his free hand to swipe away your tears with his thumb. “Not Haein loving me and especially not you.”

You watch as Jihoon’s head tilts in confusion, as if your words were in another language that he couldn’t possibly understand. Reaching for your hand, Jihoon sighs under his breath and walks you a few steps backwards as you whine his name until you feel the wall behind your back. “Says who? You deserve the world, Y/N and if it’s the last fucking thing I do, I’ll make sure you get it. So don’t you say shit like that. I meant what I said. I love you. So, if you love me too…” Sighing once again, Jihoon looks nervous once again, almost avoiding your eyes until he makes himself meet them so you know he’s serious. “Say it back.”

Jihoon was one in a million. You think back to that day when you walked in, nervous and falling over your feet at your interview. You had sat down in front of him and the other men who you now called some of your best friends, but you had made eye contact with Jihoon first. Never in your life did you think that you would end up where you are now and be able to look at him and tell him exactly how you were feeling.

“I do, Jihoon. I love you.”

Sighing in relief, Jihoon rests his forehead against yours and smiles softly. You feel his hands slide along your arms down to your hands, where he links his fingers with yours. He stays like that for a moment until he can’t stand not to have your lips on his and then he gives into his need and tilts his head, finding what he wants. The soft sigh that leaves your lips causes Jihoon to furrow his brows as his right hand tightens in your left before he drops your right and slides his hand along your side, pushing you tighter against the wall.

Jihoon speaks against your lips between kisses, “I gotta get you somewhere else. Fuck, baby… I’ve been thinking about this. About you all day.”

Leaning your head back as Jihoon brushes his lips against your jaw, you smile, feeling shy, though you know it’s just the two of you in the room. You knew that Haein was in her room and hopefully asleep, but you knew it was better if the two of you didn’t start something like this in the living room. Jihoon’s confession of his thoughts about you makes you swoon as you whine his name, pulling at his hand and leaning towards the left and the hallway that would take you both towards his room.

“Mm, I know. You’re right.” Kissing your neck, Jihoon relishes in the sound of your choked moans before he pulls away, feeling how tight his pants have gotten from just kissing you. Tugging on your hand, he glances over at you, seeing that look in your eye—the one that quickly became one of his favorites. You still seemed so innocent even though Jihoon had ravished you in his bed and yours more than once over the span of your relationship. You were batting your lashes at him, looking down and smiling like you were shy about the entire situation, it was driving Jihoon crazy.

Pushing open the door to his room, Jihoon feels you pull towards his bed, only for him to guide you back towards him. “Nu-uh, baby. Not yet… I have other plans for us. How does a bath sound?”

Biting at your bottom lip, you can’t help the way your lips pull up into a giddy smile at the idea of taking a bath with Jihoon. You loved every moment with him. He made you feel like royalty no matter what the two of you were doing, but in bed you were his goddess, and he took his time with you. You could only imagine how good he could make you feel with warm water surrounding your body.

Nodding, you keep your fingertips resting on Jihoon’s as he leads you into his large ensuite before he finally drops your hand and moves to the oversized soaker tub, turning on the taps as he sits on the side of the tub. You had been in his bathroom a few times, but it never ceased to amaze you just how different he was living compared to you.

You were used to a small bathroom with a shower tub combo, and Jihoon’s ensuite had an open shower with a rainshower head, a soaker tub, and a double vanity. It was almost overwhelming how much space there was, and you find yourself daydreaming about what Haein had said and if you might end up here one day. How would you ever really adjust? It was nice for a visit, almost like a luxury vacation, but could you handle this every day?

Jihoon watches you as you seem to wander in the bathroom, your fingers running over the quartz countertop as his fingers trail through the warm water that was beginning to rise in the tub. You were almost overwhelming and stunning. He could watch you forever, just enjoying being in your presence. If it weren’t for the small pout on your lips and the need racing through him, Jihoon might let you keep wandering, but instead he reaches for your hand and brings you back to reality and to him.

“What were you thinking about so hard, beautiful?” Reaching behind you, Jihoon finds the zipper of your dress and slowly pulls it down, letting his other hand rest on your hip as you look down at him thoughtfully.

Shrugging, you lift your hand and run it through Jihoon’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead before smiling with a shake of your head. “Nothing important. Just admiring the bathroom. It’s really nice.”

Taking a look around the room quickly, Jihoon shrugs a bit and tilts his head as he lifts his hands and slides your dress off your shoulders, letting it fall on its own to the floor at your feet. His eyes move from your face down your body as he takes in a deep breath of appreciation for what’s in front of him.

“You’re worth admiring, baby. I’ll never get over this. If I get the chance—” Smiling to himself, Jihoon bites his lip and leans to kiss your stomach before gaining the courage to finish his thought. “If I get the chance to, I wanna undress you every day for the rest of our lives.” Glancing up at you as he reaches to gently tug the straps of your bra down your arms, Jihoon gauges your reaction before he smirks. “Is that too forward?”

You understand the implications of what Jihoon is saying, but you aren’t sure how to answer or if you remember how to breathe, so instead you just whine his name. Whining Jihoon’s name was something you were good at. He seemed to understand what you were trying to say anytime you did it, so you hoped he would this time as well.

Shaking his head as you whine, Jihoon stares as more of your skin is exposed, each cup of your bra falling forward, allowing your breasts to spill out for him. “I know, baby. It’s okay, just let me take care of you.” Reaching behind him, Jihoon turns off the water and returns to his task of undressing you.

With each piece of clothing that hits the floor, his lips walk over your skin and he leaves you breathless and dripping. Gripping at Jihoon’s skin, you find yourself whimpering when he takes your hands, pulling them from his shirt so he can stand up and take a step away from you.

“Here, angel. Get in the tub for me.” Taking Jihoon’s hand, you let out a happy sigh as you step into the warm water, feeling the warmth run from your toes to your head instantly. Settling into the water allows you to finally look up at Jihoon, and you realize he is still dressed. He had spent his entire time undressing you and getting you comfortable before he had even paid himself any attention.

“Hoon… I—why didn’t you let me help you? Come here, baby.”

As much as Jihoon loved hearing you call him baby and as much as he wanted your hands on him, he was enjoying the sight of you in the water even more. Shaking his head, he smiles and works the buttons of his shirt open, quickly dropping it on the floor as you pout up at him. “Don’t pout, baby. Lay back for me... Shit, you look so beautiful. Does that feel good?”

Jihoon watches as you do as he asks; you do lean back and you think you might “punish” him for not letting him touch him by touching yourself. You quickly find that it has the opposite effect on him; he doesn’t feel punished. Instead, Jihoon feels honored to see your fingers move over your body and between your legs.

Nodding to Jihoon’s question, you move your legs apart further, letting him see through the clear water as you drag your middle finger through your folds over your clit. “Yeah, it does, but Jihoon?”

Groaning to the sound of your voice, Jihoon tugs hard on his belt, pulling it loose quickly. “Yeah, baby? Fuck, you are killing me.”

“I want you in this tub with me. Can you go faster?”

That was all the inspiration Jihoon needed to get his pants and briefs off in record time. Kicking them free of his foot, Jihoon curses under his breath as he moves towards the tub, keeping his eyes on your fingers under the water. He had been enjoying the visual, but now he was getting possessive. He was a jealous man and that came to even you touching yourself. He preferred to be the one making you moan.

Getting into the tub behind you, Jihoon slides his legs on either side of yours before reaching around your body to grab your hand and pull it carefully from your pussy. With his lips next to your ear, Jihoon grins and takes your hand from the water, bringing your fingers to your lips as he sighs. “Enough of that. I’m here now, but tell me... How does my beautiful girl taste?”

Opening your mouth, you let Jihoon put your fingers on your tongue before closing your lips around them and sucking them clean. There isn’t much of your taste on them after being in the water, just enough that to know that you were wet despite being in the tub. Leaning your head back to pull your fingers from your mouth, you take a breath and lick your lips. “Okay, but not as good as I know you taste.”

Jihoon knew differently. He knew that you were the best thing he had ever tasted in his life. Letting go of your hand, Jihoon runs his fingers between your breasts and over your stomach until he finally can dip them between your legs to where your fingers had once been. Turning his fingers slightly towards his palm, he works two of his fingers into your warm entrance as you moan his name.

You were already clenching around his fingers and Jihoon knew starting with two was pushing you, but between the water and how slick you felt, he knew you could take it. He could feel your pussy sucking his fingers in as your clit started to throb against his palm. “Such a good fucking girl. I love this pussy so much.” Turning his head towards yours, Jihoon presses a kiss to your neck and groans as he rocks his hips against your ass and back, letting you feel his hard cock pressing against you. “Baby… I’m gonna fuck you so full.”

Resting your head back against Jihoon’s shoulder, you hold on to his thigh under the water as his fingers thrust into you, pushing you closer and closer to your orgasm. Between his fingers and his words, Jihoon was taking you to the edge and he wasn’t looking back. “Please, please, please... Oh, my god!”

Water moves like a wave as you arch your body hard, pushing against Jihoon’s fingers to fuck yourself on them as you ride out your orgasm. Gasping loudly, you close your eyes tightly and dig your nails into his thigh before falling slack against his body, your thighs shaking.

“Goddamn, babe. That was so fucking hot.” Sliding his fingers from you, Jihoon’s speaks against your neck between kisses. “I gotta see your pretty face. Please, honey?” Kissing up to your ear, Jihoon runs his fingers back up your stomach to your breast, squeezing gently as he practically begs you to turn around in the tub to face him.

With a deep breath, you nod once you feel like you can move. Letting Jihoon help you move, you shift on his lap to sit on over his thighs. “This better?”

Able to see you and touch you, Jihoon runs his hands along your sides to your hips and around to your back as he leans back in the tub. This was much better. This was like a dream. You had asked to ride him a few times, but each time you had seemed shy when the moment came. Now you were in the perfect position to do it. “Much… I can see your face and—” Reaching down to stroke his cock, Jihoon lifts his brows as he nudges his head between your folds, causing you to gasp and jerk in surprise at the feeling. “You can sit on my cock.”

Jihoon had talked dirty to you in bed, but there was something about tonight. He was extra confident, and you didn’t hate it. His confidence was something that had drawn you to him in the first place. There was something about a confident man who wasn’t overly cocky. Jihoon was the type of confident person who knew when to still have humility, and in bed wasn’t one of those times. He could worship the ground you walked on and the bed you laid on all while having you whining his name.

“Hoon…” His name comes out like a gasp on a breath as Jihoon teases your clit with the head of his cock once again, feeling you roll your hips towards him. Hissing under his breath, he lifts his eyes towards yours as a smirk pulls at one side of his lips. Holding on to your hip with one hand, the other still holding his cock, he coaxes you up and helps you ease down over him inch by inch until you are sitting flush over his hips. The warmth of your pussy enveloping Jihoon completely causes him to feel like he’s going to explode.

“Feel so good. God, baby. So, warm and tight. Holding me so good.” Jihoon nods as you whine out a yeah in question. “Yeah, angel. You are perfect. When you’re ready, just let me know. You can ride me or I can move. Up to you, honey.”

Leaning your head forward as the stretch becomes pleasure, you hold on to Jihoon tightly with your arms around his neck. A moan slips from between your lips when you roll your hips over his cock, feeling him almost deeper than you have before. The sensation is both overwhelming and satisfying, making you want to do it again and again.

“Jihoon… Oh, my God.” You speak between breathy moans as you try to keep a pace, rocking your hips over Jihoon’s, lifting your hips, and using your knees to fuck yourself over his cock, but it’s too much. You quickly start to get tired. Between the drag of the water and the pleasure building slowly in your abdomen, you get frustrated and cling to Jihoon as he watches you intently.

He had known this would be one of the best experiences of his life. But Jihoon also knew you wouldn’t be able to keep up the pace you were going for too long. You were his pillow princess and from day one Jihoon had promised not to make you do anything in bed; he aimed to keep that promise even out of bed.

Sliding his hands along your thighs with a low groan, Jihoon finally finds your hips and grips them tightly. “I know, baby. Shh, let me do the work, huh?” Shaking his head in amazement of you, he rests his head back against the porcelain and keeps you in place with his hands as he thrusts his hips up hard. The sound you make is worth the water that splashes over the side of the tub, as it causes Jihoon’s cock to twitch inside of you before he thrusts again deeper.

“Fuck…” While he knew that the two of you were on the other side of the house, Jihoon bit at his lips to keep his voice down. You were heaven to be inside of and to watch. Not only were you clenching around him like a warm, soft vice, but you looked like you were straight out of a piece of art. Jihoon wanted to run his hands all over your body, from the line of your neck as you leaned your head back to the swell of your breasts as they moved with each one of his quickened thrusts, and finally down into the water to where his cock was being squeezed so well.

“Please, please… Oh, Hoon.”

Jihoon was right on the precipice of his climax. Each one of your moaned words was followed by whine and it was almost sinful how much he wanted to capture it on a recording so he could listen to it over and over again. He could imagine himself locked away in his studios on one of his many long nights with his hand around his cock as he listened to your fucked-out voice, remembering how good it felt to be inside of you. Remembering what was waiting for him once he got home.

You, at home waiting for him. That was the thought that pushed Jihoon over the edge. Groaning your name, Jihoon holds your hip so tightly he’s afraid he might leave a bruise, but in the moment he just needs something to ground him. With his other hand, he slips it between your legs and listens to your moans get louder and higher in pitch as he urges you to follow him and to cum on his cock.

“God, yes, that’s my girl. Cum with me. All over my cock, baby.” Nodding, Jihoon watches your mouth fall open and he feels your walls tighten and quiver around him as your orgasm rips through you. You had been wet before, but between his cum and yours, Jihoon finds himself slipping his fingers alongside his cock to feel the cum as it seeps into the water. “Told you I’d fill you up, pretty girl.”

It was always a tight fit for you to take Jihoon’s cock so feeling the extra pressure of his fingertips next to his softening cock has you whimpering. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, you lean in far enough to press your lips to Jihoon’s neck before complaining about the feeling and wiggling your hips hearing him chuckle under his breath.

“Sensitive…”

“I know you are baby. Can’t help myself sometimes. If we were in bed, I would have watched it run out of you.”

Making a face, you scrunch up your nose and bury your face against Jihoon’s neck. “You’re embarrassing.”

Wet fingers move over your head and down your back as Jihoon lets himself soften inside of you completely, neither of you in a rush to move too quickly. He laughs, feeling your cheek heating up against his skin and your muffled words. “Am I? You don’t like it? I love watching my cum dripping out of you. Means you’re mine...”

Whining again, you nip gently at Jihoon’s neck, hearing him laugh before it quickly turns into a groan at the feeling. He knew what he was doing. There were many nights where one round would turn to two after, but you were just happy to be in his arms. “You are a control freak, Lee Jihoon.”

You weren’t wrong. Jihoon smirks, lifting his brow as he sinks a bit further down in the water, knowing the two of you can’t stay in the tub for much longer. There was nothing clean about this water anymore and he needed to get you taken care of sooner rather than later. It was just difficult not to have you in his arms for as long as possible, and it was even harder not to keep you on his cock if he could.

“So? You say that like it’s a bad thing. I think it’s one of the reasons you fell in love with me.”

Jihoon can feel your lips pull up into a smile and it makes his lips do the same. You did love him and he loved you. That wasn’t going to change. In Jihoon’s mind, you were it. You were his one and only. He had been taught that great love comes around once in a lifetime and he was holding on to his.

Feeling warmth moving along your skin, you hum softly as your lips turn up in a smile against your pillow. While your bed at home was comfortable, it did not compare to Jihoon’s bed. Pulling your knees up towards your stomach, you snuggle with the pillow for a moment longer before stretching your hand out to where Jihoon had been the night before, when the two of you had fallen asleep. A pout takes the place of your smile when all you feel is satin sheets that have been warmed by the early morning sun.

“Hoon?” Your voice is nothing more than a whisper. Between just waking up and how much Jihoon had loved you the night before, you find your throat is dry and a bit tender. Clearing your throat, you sit up and glance around the room, only seeing specks of dust in the rays of sunlight that manage to peek through the blinds.

Starting to say his name again, you stop when the sound of music catches your attention. It’s quiet and at a distance, making you realize that Jihoon is in his studio. Biting at your lips, you slip from the bed and pull on one of Jihoon’s button-ups along with a pair of shorts from the drawer dubbed as yours before you tiptoe out of the room and down the hall.

You find the door cracked; trying to sneak in, you push on the door handle with one hand and the frame with the other. The song is one you don’t recognize. You can hear Jihoon singing quietly under his breath, no words fully formed and the melody still scattered and yet it is beautiful.

Still tiptoeing and trying to stay quiet, you watch Jihoon working diligently on the project from a distance. He was always a hard worker, putting his all into anything he did—but this seemed different, this seemed even more important to him.

Titling his head, Jihoon scratches at his scalp a bit annoyed as he reads over the music in front of him. This had to be perfect because it was—the sound of the floorboards creaking behind him makes Jihoon sit up straight before he spins his chair to find you wincing as you walk towards him like a burglar from a cartoon, one leg still in the air. While Jihoon wants to be upset that you are sneaking around and spying on him, he knows that isn’t what you are doing, and you look so cute that he can’t help but to laugh.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Shaking his head, Jihoon turns and quickly minimizes what he’s working on before leaning to grab your hand and pulling you to him to sit on his lap in his chair. Nudging his nose against your shoulder, Jihoon watches your eyes move to his computer as you pout and look back at him apologetically.

“I heard music and I wanted to see what you were doing without bothering you. Plus, you left me in bed alone. I was missing you.”

Sighing softly, Jihoon kisses the back of your shoulder as he presses his hands to your stomach through his shirt. “I missed you too. You looked too peaceful to wake up; besides, I got up a long time ago. You needed more sleep than me.”

Turning to the side in Jihoon’s lap, you shake your head to disagree with him. In your mind, you didn’t need anything if it didn’t include Jihoon, whereas in his, he would do anything to make sure you were happy and healthy.

“No, but I do love your bed. It’s so nice.” Gesturing to his computer, you rub your lips together as you tap your fingers along his arm, being tempted to reach for his mouse to reopen the project he was working on. “What were you doing? The song seemed really pretty. I’ve never heard it before.”

Jihoon knew you were going to ask, but he was hoping he could distract you enough or get you on to something else with your day before you’d remember. Rolling his eyes in faux annoyance, Jihoon leans his head back, reaching over to his mouse to close the project, completely leaving it hidden on his computer. He hears you gasp when you can’t see it anymore on the taskbar.

“It’s... a surprise. I’m writing a song for you and it’s not finished. So keep your greedy little paws off my computer, you hear me?”

The idea of Jihoon writing you a song makes your heart swell with emotions. Staring at him, you aren’t sure what to do or say at first so you nod and then shake your head, hearing Jihoon laugh as he copies you. “You did hear me or you didn’t, Y/N?”

“I did! I heard you, Jihoon, but... you, what? Really? For me? When can I hear it? Can’t I see it now? Oh my god, baby... that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever told me.”

You were gushing and while Jihoon loved hearing you spiraling for a good reason, he wasn’t going to give in and let you see or hear something that wasn’t perfect. Shaking his head, Jihoon laces his fingers with your left hand and leans to kiss your neck with a soft hum. “No, you can’t see it now. It is for you and I will give it to you, I promise.”

Scoffing, you lean into Jihoon’s kiss, listening to his words. He was giving you half answers. Whining his name, you lean away from his body some to see him better as he laughs under his breath and sighs your name in return as his fingers slide to play with your ring finger of your left hand. “Y/N… I—I’ll give you the song on our wedding day. How ‘bout that?”

The answer stuns you and makes your face bloom with heat. Glancing away from Jihoon, you try to keep the tears that threaten to collect on the rims of your eyes from spilling over as he lifts your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. “Hm? Does that sound fair?”

When you nod, Jihoon grins against your hand and sighs. “Good, because I love you so much and I wouldn’t give you anything unless it’s perfect.”

Jihoon watches your bottom lip stick out slightly as you pout tears finally making their way to your cheeks when you blink a few times trying to regain your composure only to fail. “I love you. You’re already perfect; nothing has to be perfect. Why would you say that to me, Jihoon? Don’t tease me.”

Smiling, Jihoon shakes his head and pushes on your pout with his thumb before turning your face towards him so he can wipe away your tears. “Who’s teasing anybody?”

READ THE BONUS ON PATREON

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g0dlyunsub · 5 months ago

Text

for the night.

the flight back from a case gets delayed and the team’s forced to book rooms for the night. what a coincidence that you’re paired with spencer.

pairing :: s5!spencer x fem bau!reader

warnings :: fluff, flustered spencer, this is literally just an excuse to write about spencer with crutches

word count :: 1.7k

author’s note :: one of my favorite tropes asfdfafssfsd we all know where this is going right ;)

accompanying song :: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas

“i have to admit, i am quite surprised. engine failures are extremely rare — statistically, they only occur once every 1.4 million flight hours.”

“uh-huh, very interesting.” you roll your eyes, but the smile that tempts to play on your lips is too overpowering to withhold.

“it is!” spencer excitedly flashes you a smile. “we’re actually incredibly lucky to avoid an in-flight shutdown, which typically happens once per million flight hours-”

“reid, i think our luck might be running dry here. it’s 1 a.m., the jet’s engines are acting up, and we can’t leave portland.”

you take both of his crutches in your hands with an exasperated sigh. it’s not his fault, and you know better than to project your annoyance at him, but the disappointment of not being able to enjoy a nice, hot shower in the walls of your home has you uptight.

with an apologetic smile, you extend your shoulder to spencer; slowly, he places his hand on you, and you help him carefully descend the jet’s stairs.

the two of you are the last to join the rest of the group on the ground, and hotch sends an acknowledging nod in your direction once he sees that you’ve been assisting spencer.

“l/n, reid, you guys okay with rooming together for the night?”

the words don’t initially register, and it’s only until spencer speaks up that you realize hotch isn’t asking – he’s confirming.

“we’re rooming in pairs?”

hotch nods, and his sidelong stare roams over spencer’s face like he’s challenging him to continue, to contest his proposal.

“emily? jj?” you pipe up this time, sending a pleading glance at both of them. they look back at you with sheepish smiles.

“it looked like you guys were having a really good conversation back there. didn’t want to disturb you,” emily returns, slowly raising her shoulders and mouthing sorry.

spencer clears his throat and leans into your ear. “i can probably book a room at another place-”

you widen your eyes and immediately shake your head. “no, that’s not necessary, i’m completely fine with it! unless you’re… not?”

this time, spencer’s the one shaking his head fervently. “oh no, i’m entirely comfortable, perfectly content, uh- sharing a room with you.”

you display an awkward grin. “alright then, perfect.”

—

“i’ll set your bag on the table, is that okay?”

“yeah, thanks a lot.”

you heave a sigh of relief as you close the door behind you and rest spencer’s bookbag on the wooden table. spencer slowly lowers himself into a chair, and you gently lean his crutches against the walls near the door.

you’re pleasantly surprised by the room’s decor; its soft carpet floor and mahogany picture frames hanging from the walls easily exceed your expectations for a traditional hotel room.

you’re about to make a comment commending the room’s quality when your eyes zero in on a terrifying sight.

there’s only one bed.

you do a double take, circling around the bedroom once more to check if there’s an extra mattress lying around somewhere – at this point, you really wouldn’t mind if the bed has a trundle.

“fuck me.”

“what?”

spencer’s eyes immediately divert to you, and he stifles his reaction to your comment with a hasty cough.

you point to the bed, which prompts spencer to crane his neck to get a better view.

“there’s only one bed.”

spencer’s eyes widen, and his gaze snaps up to your face so fast you wonder if you’ve just made a grave mistake of telling him.

he was bound to find out anyway.

“it’s okay, i’ll take-” you start, but he cuts you off short.

“the floor? not a chance.”

you press your lips together tightly and gesture to his leg. “please, take the bed. your leg… you’re injured.”

spencer looks down at the floor briefly, a light shade of pink spreading across his face. “no, we can… we can share the bed.”

you feel your cheeks grow hot at his suggestion, but a refusal fails to surface on your lips.

moving your hands to your hips, you nod slowly. “only because you’re insisting,” you murmur.

a brief silence veils the air, and the two of you have utterly no idea what to do next — neither of you wants to be the one to crawl into bed first.

but the clock’s hour hand had just moved past the two, and you know your eyelids aren’t going to stay open for much longer.

with a weary sigh, you gesture towards the lightswitch. “do you mind if we dimmed the lights a little?”

spencer turns, almost hobbling on his leg, and flips the switch for you. the room turns dark almost instantly, but a faint light emanates from a lamp on the nightstand.

“are you, um, going to sleep soon?”

you hate to be the first one to bring it up, but you have to — you can practically feel the tiredness tempting you like a fuzzy blanket.

“uh yeah, we should sleep.”

you watch as spencer grabs a pillow from his side of the bed and positions it near the edge of the mattress. you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he props himself onto the bed and rests his leg on top of the pillow, elevating his casted knee.

oh. as the realization hits you, you reach for your own pillow and gently place it next to his head. “here, use this.”

“that’s your pillow.”

“i know.”

a soft chuckle sounds from his throat as spencer raises his head ever so slightly, allowing you to tuck the pillow beneath him.

“thanks,” he murmurs, and pats at the space next to him, urging you to join him on the bed.

once you’ve slipped your feet into the blanket, spencer stretches his arm to turn off the lamp and moves back to whisper a hushed good night into your ear.

you turn to say it back. “good n-”

his hand gently starts to wedge under your neck, and as he moves, strands of your hair coil around his fingers.

he’s offering his arm as a pillow.

you lie frozen, your breath hitched in your throat, as his arm extends fully beneath you.

“spence,” you exhale, caught off-guard by the sudden move.

“it’s okay. don’t worry about me,” he softly whispers, inclining his head towards your face.

you smile, though you doubt he can see your face in the pitch-black darkness.

“sweet dreams,” you hum, and close your eyes to let sleep overtake you.

—

you wake up not to the sound of your alarm, not to the birds usually perched on the tree outside your window, but to the sound of spencer clearing his throat.

you think it’s a dream at first, but you can feel everything — the vibrations coming from his throat like he’s talking to you, his hands stroking a pattern on your back, his breaths tickling your hair.

you open your eyes to see spencer staring back at you with flustered cheeks, his eyes flickering back and forth between your face and…

you follow his gaze and look down, only to see that your leg’s wrapped casually around his hips, anchoring him to the bed. with a panicked yelp, you immediately retract your leg and leap out of the bed, frantically apologizing to him over and over again.

“i’m so sorry about that, d-did i hurt you?”

your voice sounds scratchy from your parched throat, but how you sound right now is the least of your concerns.

spencer chuckles softly before slowly sitting up. “no, you didn’t do anything.”

you let out a relieved sigh at his response.

spencer grunts as he lifts himself up, tenderly listening to your continued apologies with a warm smile.

“by the way,” he starts, fixing his tie and reaching for his suit jacket, “we're a little late.”

“what?” you gasp, hurriedly tucking your dress shirt into your trousers, “fuck. how late?”

a pause, and then: “five minutes and twenty seconds.”

“oh my god,” you squeal as you fling your and spencer’s bag over your shoulders, “they’re probably all waiting for us.”

quickly turning the doorknob and making way for spencer’s crutches to move past the door, you rush to the elevator and hit the juddering call button.

“next time, you’re-“ you cough out as you try to catch your breath, “-you’re welcome to just push me off the bed. it’s guaranteed to wake me up instantly.”

spencer looks at you questioningly, a small grin spreading across his lips. “next time?”

you clasp a hand over your mouth. “wait no, i meant – hopefully we’ll never have to sleep in a room together ever again, but i’m saying in case-“

spencer tilts his head and lets out an amused laugh. thankfully, the elevator doors open just in time, and you’re spared the trouble of having to explain yourself further.

you bite your lips as the image of his lopsided grin lingers in the back of your mind, and the fresh regret of your words burns your face like a hot fever.

the embarrassment doesn’t end, however, as the doors open once again to reveal your team standing right outside. when the elevator’s chime echoes throughout the lobby, everyone’s heads turn to you and spencer.

you walk out with nervous steps, grimacing when hotch merely nods and announces that the plane is ready for takeoff. spencer makes his way over to derek, who tousles his hair teasingly.

“so, how’d you sleep last night?”

you freeze when rossi’s husky voice drifts into your ears.

you force out a smile. “i definitely could’ve slept better.”

“really?” he hums with a smirk, “i slept like a baby.”

“yeah, you upgraded your room, we get it, you’re rich,” you sigh, eliciting a hearty chuckle from the older agent.

once seated in your usual seat on the jet, you’re accompanied by spencer and morgan, who slump into their seats across from you.

you watch suspiciously as morgan wiggles his eyebrows at you and nudges his elbow into spencer’s sides. “so, late night, huh?”

spencer looks at you briefly, flushed cheeks failing to suppress the smile splaying across his face.

“shut up.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you

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gotta-winwin · 2 months ago

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OT13 Reaction -- when you ask them for an absurd amount of money as a prank

SCOUPS:

will transfer you the money, no questions asked. unless it's like an insane amount of money - like enough to buy a car - then he'd be concerned and ask why you need it. are you in trouble? are you being blackmailed? what can he do? he's ready to assist you in anyway possible and will be sulky when he finds out it's a prank. relieved, but a little sad that you'd even feel the need to test his loyalty to you.

JEONGHAN:

his immediate reaction is no. have you guys seen that interview where one of the members (i think it was dino? mingyu? my memory is so bad) said that jeonghan doesn't play when it comes to money and it lowkey stingy? yeah that. he'll definitely be hesitant and might even just flat out say no. extremely proud when you reveal it was a prank all along. i knew it was a prank, baby~ the student can't fool the teacher~

JOSHUA:

his immediately worried something terrible has happened. it's uncommon for you to ask him for money, usually its small enough sums that you don't even have to ask - you have his card anyways. stressed and annoyed when you tell him its all a prank. ai~ you know my weak heart cannot take you stressing me out.

JUN:

a little confused why you're asking him for money. he's the type to not catch on, you being in danger isn't the immediate thought when you ask him for 300 thousand dollars. will not react when you tell him it was a prank, the request for the money hasn't even properly computed in his head yet.

HOSHI:

he's going to complain he doesn't have that much money even though we all know he does. he'll agree to transfer it to you, but will whine and nag the whole time that this is his hard earned money! he loves you but why are you taking it away! another type to get sulky when you tell him its a prank and you don't actually need the money.

WONWOO:

ummm...why? he'll ask a shit ton of questions before agreeing, he needs to know why, when, what, where, who? all the details. this is his money after all, he needs to know where its all going. it gets to the point where you give up, just telling him its a prank cause his questioning isn't making it fun anymore. he tsks and asks if you have too much time on your hands to be pranking him.

WOOZI:

the money is in your bank account before you even finish asking. he's lowkey surprised you haven't asked sooner, he's always open with how much he's making and constantly tells you he'd just rather you guys have a joint bank account so he can spoil you. refuses to let you return the money once you admit its a prank. he makes more than enough anyways.

MINGHAO:

another one that's immediately worried. money's never been a topic you guys have ever talked about so he knows there must be something wrong. asks a boatload of questions trying to make sure you're okay and not getting scammed online or something. ends up just chiding you for even falling into a trap where you need that much money and narrows his eyes at you when you tell him its a prank. he thinks you're crazy and has too much time on your hands.

DK:

poor baby's scared. sure he makes a lot of money but he's never needed that much. eyes are popping out of his head when you tell him the sum of what you need. he agrees, of course, anything for you, but his hands are shaking as he reaches for his wallet. dramatically flops onto the floor when you tell him its a prank, begging you to never do that again - he might be rich but in his mind he's got like 5 cents in his bank account.

MINGYU:

blinks. pretends to think about it, but really he's been waiting for this day. the only possibility in his mind as to why you need the money is only for good things, and who is he to not spoil his baby? begs you to take his card anyways when you tell him its a prank. it's literally the only reason why i work, baby. just take my card.

SEUNGKWAN:

he's dramatic, screeching about how that's an insane amount of money and that he wouldn't even drop that kind of money on himself- and he loves himself very very much! calms down and genuinely sits your ass down to ask why you even need it. feels extremely betrayed when you tell him its a prank and vows to get revenge.

VERNON:

he sighs. he knows this trend and he's not having it. baby, you know i'd do anything for you right. you've got me like wrapped around your finger. you literally don't need to test my loyalty. apologizes when you get sulky over him already knowing the prank and offers to let you try again - this time he'll play along. ohmygod that's a lot of money are you being blackmailed? shopping in the black market? getting us a house in Bali? shrugs when you complain about his reaction being ingenuine and over the top. there is only so much he can do.

DINO:

his jaw is dropping at how large the sum is. yeah, he's got that money, and he'll show you his bank account just to prove it. but he'll start listing out what everything is for. that sum's set aside for our house, that one's to send our kids to school - we never said how many we'd have but i set aside enough to four university tuitions, and- you'll cut him off cause he's going to make you cry with how thoughtful he is. scolds him for ruining your prank. prank? he's confused. what do you mean prank? he got so invested in telling you everything he's saved up for your shared future he kinda forgot the original question.

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tsukii0002 · 7 months ago

Text

My demons' periods cycles. By Mc

Note: these are purely my headcanons at the moment, they are based on animal ethology and behaviours that I think would suit each character depending on their personality and Lore. I would love to read your headcanon in case you have them.

Warning: Long text. Possible grammatical errors. It's written as if Mc was writing for themself.

Hey, it me Mc, the best human. Here is a compilation of the behaviours of my demons during their periods, cycles, for practical day to day use. It wasn't easy but I sat them down and got to talk to them, with a little effort I now know what they need. So now I am ready to assist them during these complicated times and be prepared in case I find a dead goat on the porch as a tribute.

Lucifer, Mammon & Levi || Satan, Asmo, & Beel || Belphie, Barbatos & Diavolo || Simeon & Raphael

Lucifer

Light does not bother him, but he rarely sleeps during its periods.

During his cycle his wings are filled with new feathers, to make them more noticeable and showy, many are small and iridescent.

His horns are also covered with iridescent scales.

He's constantly preening his wings, and they are always stretched to their fullest extent (Be prepared to be plucking feathers off your head for months)

The more feathers the better health (The stress of everyday life affects his plumage at this time so if at any time you see it scarce don't tell him :()

Unlike what you might think his nest is not in his bedroom but in secret rooms in the HOL.

Peacocks build their nests by making holes in the floor, Lucifer simulates that feeling by making a nest with high walls (good luck trying to get in and out) .

During his cycle he becomes very territorial and protective over his chicks (his siblings) and his mate (Interestingly Satan has woken up in the nest the most times over time, followed by Belphie)

He doesn't go outside his territory (the house), he feels a strong need to protect the fort (so all RAD paperwork falls on this sheep) .

Lucifer has a pre-heat period which is when he starts to grow new feathers, he eats a lot more and stores some food.

During the cycle he hardly eats, for that he has been accumulating energy ( you have to insist and feed him yourself so that he doesn't end up weakened after the cycle) .

He can talk normally, although when someone outside his family approaches a guttural sound comes out of his throat as a warning.

He produces very strong pheromones, but does not mark with them because there is no need (No one will dare steal what belongs to him)

Although physical contact soothes him, don't rub him if you don't see him relax, especially his wings. Let him initiate the contact.

He's always on guard since he does not sleep. But don't want that his brothers see him in his period.

His main way of courtship is to show off, so to get him to let you live, flatter him, tell him how beautiful his wings are or how majestic he is.

It's funny because sometimes he'll expect you to court him back (I don't have wings Luci, I can't do it) .

His senses are uniformly heightened. Nothing gets out of his control. (Good luck going to the toilet)

His body temperature rises (prepare light clothing, more than for him for you, you're going to need it)

Does he purr? Yes, although it's more like the sounds certain birds make before they sing. It is difficult to hear >:(.

During the cycle his anxiety is accentuated.

Normally demons end up exhausted after their cycle, but because he is so proud he doesn't let you take care of him, and he ends up much worse off.

Mc: So the nest is important?

Lucifer: Very important, yes.

Mc: Essential?

Lucifer: Yes

Mc: … *thoughtful* Are you going to let me leave the house?

Lucifer: No.

Mc: And from your nest?

Lucifer: No.

Mc: …. Let's buy cervical pillows then

Lucifer: *grinning*

Mc: So if I forced you, will you eat?

Lucifer: I think it's possible.

Mc: *grinning * And how do I do it with a spoon or mouth to mouth like the chicks?

Lucifer: *blushing * You… don't make me regret having told you all this

Mc: *half asleep* Everyone is sleeping.

Lucifer: *watching them in the dark with his eyes shining*

Mc: Everything is in order *trying to climb the nest*

Lucifer: *picking them up and lifting them to the nest* … *purring*

Mc: Now, now, let's try to sleep…*still half asleep* you are warm.

Lucifer: *covering them with his wings* Rests Mc.

Mammon

He can stand the light but doesn't like it, during these periods he has a reduced sleep schedule.

During his period he feathers, these feathers help him to be more aerodynamic.

He needs to groom them but as he normally doesn't have that many he is terrible at it (So be prepared to give him a hand) .

He nests, but like crows he does it high up, (make sure you prepare a hanging platform on the second floor of his room or he will end up nesting on the roof) .

Unlike Lucifer, he goes out almost every day, looking for small prey or presents. And don't care if his brothers see him in his period.

During his cycle his obsession for shiny things is accentuated, they don't have to be valuable, just shiny: stones, crystals, metals, floors or polished surfaces (thanks for the idea)…

He is a collector and will bring these objects to the nest.

Mammon is not overly territorial, he doesn't expect his parnert to be in the nest for 24 hours either, but when he comes back from his outings please be there or he will panic. Last time the house almost burned down.

He produces pheromones, and he will only use it on his mate.

He does not have a pre-heat, but you can identify that he's approaching his period by her lack of attention (more than usual).

Mammon eats throughout his cycle, more than usual, mostly meat, but also certain grains and seeds that his relatives collect for him.

He will want to feed you and you will want to feed him. You can't get away from that, you just can't.

His pupils dilate and constrict in an exaggerated manners. And his eyes shine in dark.

Although he talks, he prefers to communicate by squawking and growling.

However, when he is affectionate mood mainly with taps and caresses.

During the cycle he becomes very needy of physical touch, at sleeping, eating and grooming times he must always be skin to skin. Stroke him between the wings or plumage and he will start to purr.

He is happy for you to initiate contact, he doesn't mind if you do it whenever you want.

He sleeps curled up on his companion.

Does he purr? Yes, like his brother it's a similar sound to certain birds, but it's easy to make him purr (pretty much whenever you pay attention to him)

And you always have to pay attention to him.

His form of courtship is to bring you gifts, where did you get coins, pretty stones, luminescent flowers … you can not refuse these gifts or he'll cry (however give a stone or a coin and will not leave the nest in hours, he will think that you have reciprocated the courtship and will be happy)

His senses are sharpened especially his hearing and sight, he can see for miles, there is no threat that escapes him, that is why he is able to leave the territory so much.

He is more honest than usual, if he wants you to hug him he will tell you straight out.

Mammon: *trying that mc eat a leg of an unidentified animal*

Mc: No- NO!, youuuu stay baaaack

Mammon: *grunt*

Mc: *giving him part of their bread * take it

Mammon: *with pupils dilate* Oh *happy bird noises*

Mc: *holding back laughter*

Mammon: Farther to the left

Mc: Here?

Mammon: *stretching his wings higher*

Mc: Here?

Mammon: *purrs*

Mc: How the hell did you preen your feathers before?

Mammon: *curled next to Mc holding tightly a monopoly coin*

Mc: *smiling while stroking his feathers*

Mammon: Love you...

Mc: So your period makes you soft…I wish you were always as honest.

Levi

Nocturnal, light bothers him and can hurt his eyes.

During his period he sleeps more than usual (although he should sleep more often).

His scales cover his whole body and become more colorful. And his horns grow new branches.

He does not need as much grooming as other types of demons, but he needs constant humidity.

During his period the bathtub in his bedroom is full, but sometimes a humidifier is enough.

However during the final part of his period he needs to be totally submerged (so be prepared to go diving)

During this phase Lucifer puts a spell on him to track him. Because his envy can lead him to hide in the deepest pit of the ocean.

Some snakes nest, but most do not, so Levi's safe place during his period is under a pile of blankets, thin cloths and other things (like a burrow).

Since Levi is Levi, you have to make sure to give him wet towels every so often to moisten his body.

Levi is very territorial but he is more elusive and prefers to hide, his insecurity increases and there is no way to get him out of his burrow ( make sure he hydrates because it wouldn't be the first time he gets sick)

He doesn't eat much during his cycle, and if he does it has to be raw, but he has poor hunting skills, guess whose turn it is to take care of this?

Although the final phase of the period (Underwater) Lotan often takes care of finding nutritious prey for him.

When sleeping he wraps his tail around your body, first because you are a source of warmth and second because you are you.

Levi becomes partially non-verbal, he uses a lot of hisses and grunts. After two days they can be easily identified.

He likes physical contact, but he is the one who has to initiate it. (Touch him without his permission and be prepared to search for him in the depths of the Devildom water bodies).

Levi's courtship occurs underwater.

First he shows off, where all his scales glow many colors, this is indicative of health (as Levi does not have a very healthy diet or routine, his color could be better, but we won't tell him that)

And in the second instance it gives a single stone of sea crystals.

The sense that develops the most is the sense of touch and hearing. His skin becomes super sensitive so he can only wear certain types of clothing. And excessive friction hurts him.

His body temperature decreases a lot, more and more as the period progresses because he can not thermoregulate ( that's why he needs to be submerged and that's why you will wake up underwater)

Does Levi purr? Of course, when you talk to him or when he is embarrassed.

After his cycle he will need several days to look you in the eye again.

Levi: *sad hiss*

Mc: I'm telling you that your scales are very pretty.

Levi: *self-deprecating hiss*

Mc: No, I'm not just saying this... but if it really makes you feel bad, starting tomorrow you're going to eat more protein.

Levi: *hiss of indignation* >:0

Mc: Levi, I bring you the food!! Levi?

Mc: *looking for him in the burrow* Levi?

Levi: *poking his head over the bath water*

Mc: There you are… Ah! The humidifier has turned off!!

Levi: *grabbing their sleeve*

Mc: *sighing* we have to be more attentive…. *getting into the bathtub* but now you have to eat.

Underwater

Mc: Who had said that automating a spell would save my life.

Levi: *snuggled next to them with his tail wrapped around their body*

Mc: Are you confortable Levi?

Levi: *nodding*

Mc: Good, love u.

If you have made it this far, thank you very much 🩷

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sanemisstalker · 1 year ago

Text

N/SFW. Minors DNI

CW: GN reader / Men's Mental Health IG ???

KNY characters that I think are more prone to cumming in their pants / NSFW

Giyu

-He's inexperienced.

-I admire the almost fandom consensus of him being either resident, sexy, black haired, quiet anime boy, and/or 'nobody likes this friendless loser, he definitely has a tumblr'

-Any attention, platonic or not, from someone he's attracted to is enough to make Giyu get an apparent boner. He's prone to them when the people he admires say genuinely nice things to him.

-He doesn't get to hear nice things a lot, nor does he take compliments easily, so when he believes them, his body can't help but believe them too.

-He'd rather it not be that way, but due to his floundering mental health, and general isolation, Giyu isn't jerking off very often, nor is he able to get it up when he wants to, so he just goes... months without thinking about it sometimes.

-Could definitely cum from kissing too hard. Not just kissing, but particularly the rough treatment.

-Giyu must be incredibly touch starved, I imagine. I can't fiction the last time he's hugged someone. That scene where he's holding Shinobu, perhaps?

-So when he's getting so much attention, especially so much positive, romantic attention, even if it's a little rough, I'm sure his dick would be at full mast.

-he doesn't think he's predisposed to masochism or anything. He'd hope he wasn't, but it feels better when he's kissing, and maybe his hair is being pulled on, just a little.

-he'd be very embarassed. He wouldn't cry or anything, but I think he'd get up and leave the room. He knows you knew what happened, he didn't moan, but he flinched because the build up was so immediate, and he just couldn't stop.

-How pathetic. He can't show his face infront of you ever again. All he does is ruin good things. You're definitely disgusted by him.

-Even if he didn't realize how pretty his face looked during his orgasm.

Gyutaro

-Everyday I fight the gyutaro incel allegations, and everyday I fail.

-Gyutaro is socially inept, to put it blatantly. He spends an incredible amount of time locked away in his sister, and rarely chooses to come out unless eating for the two, or-

-if he needs to jerk off. A rarity, nowadays. Looking the way he looks can do a real number on one's ability to self-pleasure. He also isn't able to seek out assistance from any brothels- He still looks the way he looks. He's no Muzan- blessed with the ability to change his appearance at will.

-So when you're on top of Gyutaro, and he feels the curve of your ass in his palm, and your sex is positioned right on top of his, just barely grazing his clothed cock, as you try and teach him how to kiss (he's doing his best, but he knows he's not good-)

-He cums, and he cums hard. He grips down on your hips, and goes wide eyed, unable to stop the moan that rips its way from his throat... and then quickly moves you off of him.

-He isn't even finished when he moves you, he's shakey armed, and he nearly drops you.

-he's mortified. After all this time, he finally gets someone willing to touch him, and he blows it. He's borderline inconsolable- switching between begging you not to look at him and begging you not to hate him-

-but the noise he made was just so... pathetic.

Haganezuka

-Men dedicated to their craft don't have time to cum? Silly of you to assume he's ever even seen another person naked. That would imply he looked away from a sword for long enough to register it.

-On a completely serious note (as serious as I can be writing this), It'd be quite awkward interacting with Haganezuka sexually. His mind has been so consumed by perfection that, even if he wasn't dedicated to the blade, he's almost prevented himself from ever being able to cum in a social setting.

-He's developed a phobia of new situations he can't control. Especially sexual ones. Swords are easy and gratifying. Why would he ever need to cum when he can just make a sword and have it be respected and revered. Wouldn't that be nice-

-So when you started rubbing him over his pants, he was, admittedly, panicking. It's not like he went nearly 4 decades without using his dick... He'd just... gone 2 and a half decades without using his dick. Nowhere near the same.

-You'd barely even touched it, barely even pressed your lips to his neck, and Haganezuka was panting.

-The fear coursing through his veins, and the attention his forgotten cock was receiving- He grew more unsightly by the second...

-and then you pressed a particularly soft kiss to the corner of his lips and he was done for. That was his first kiss-

-Though shocked, you'd pump Haganezuka through his orgasm. It'd be enough to go through his pants, and spill over your hand.

-He'd grip your robes, and will you closer to him. His heels would slam into the floorboard, and he'd try to bury his face in your neck, attempting to muffle the groan he'd loose, only to fail tremendously.

-He'd be huffy after. Mad at himself and disguising it as being mad at you.

-'Well, maybe you shouldn't touch me anymore, if you found it so gross! Did you consider that? Just not touching me- ever?'

-but you saw how sad he looked when you said you'd do whatever he wanted. What a simple man.

#giyu smut #gyutaro smut #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer smut #hashira x reader #kny x reader #giyu x y/n #giyu x reader #giyuu x reader #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #haganezuka smut #haganezuka x reader #upper moon smut #upper moons x reader #kny smut

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dark-konohagakure2 · 4 months ago

Note

Nara family with dumb Little sister 🤭🤭

tw: incest, father/daughter, mother/daughter, noncon, cheating, degradation, misogyny, cockwarming, age difference, voyeurism

All characters depicted are 18+

Shikamaru can't believe that his own kid, a Nara, isn't anywhere near as intelligent as the rest of his family. If he didn't trust his wife so much he'd suspect that she isn't his, but since she is his daughter, it's up to him to smarten her up a bit.

He's busy with being the Hokage's assistant, so its a huge drag for Shikamaru to have to tutor his daughter, who is more than old enough to teach herself such simple things, so he's not doing it for free, there is something in it for Shikamaru in all of this.

Shikamaru is a stern father despite how lazy and hands off he can be most of the time. He'll force his daughter onto his lap and read out the questions on the worksheet to her, talking in a slow and condescending manner as he does, but Shikamaru is only a man, and it only takes a few minutes for his daughter to start complaining about 'something' poking her.

He can't help but groan as she complains and starts squirming on his lap, yelling at him for being a pervert, she's being a complete drag as usual. But he figures that now is a better time than ever to get his compensation for this tiresome daddy-daughter study session, since she's noticed his prominent arousal.

"Stop complaining, you brat. You're an adult now, and these are just things that us adults have to learn about. Now stay still and let Daddy be your teacher..."

He isn't gonna stop tutoring her just to get his rocks off, that would make him an irresponsible father, instead he's going to kill two birds with one stone. Shikamaru will slide his cock into her while holding her in his lap firmly with his gloved hands. The two of them are home alone, so he won't even have to stifle his moans or be secretive.

He'll groan and pant hotly into her ear, telling her how stressful work has been lately, only for him to have to come home to a dimwitted daughter like her. Although something he didn't anticipate was Temari coming home early, walking right in on the 'tutoring session', but instead of being mad at him, she looks more annoyed at their daughter.

He won't move his cock an inch until she gets the entire worksheet done, while Temari gives her a stern talking to, saying that things wouldn't have to be this way if she'd just wisen up a little. Although Temari looks mad and annoyed, Shikamaru knows his wife better than anyone, he can tell that she's getting turned on too.

Once their little study session is finally one, Shikamaru will let his daughter know how proud her daddy is of her, while Temari will still lecture her a bit, although speaking a lot more softly this time as she rubs her growing wetness through her panties, making it clear that she wants some time with their daughter too.

"Well it looks like you were being enough of a blockhead to force your father into taking drastic measures. Now it's time for Mama to teach you a lesson too..."

Shikamaru finds girls to be nothing but trouble, so him being the father of one is a complete drag for him, but he's able to look on the bright side of things, even if she isn't very smart, he's finally found something that she's good at, something that he and Temari will get a lot of enjoyment out of.

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sophiethewitch1 · 1 year ago

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

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