#this title is so good mind if i use it if i start writing a fic like that?
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Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽
VERSION I.
(a/n: Hey everybody, back with the continuation! 🙋♀️ as you can see from the title this is only the first version of my BL manager 'story' meaning there's more to come ^^ The current plan is to write with multiple players a similar episode like the one below. So I hope you enjoy it!! ❤️)+if u see any grammatical errors let me know tyy
WARNING!-none
wc: 1.4 k words, so buckle up cause it's gonna be a looong ride again sry T_T
ALSO: requested tags ❤️-@ttheggrimrreaper @god-is-disappointed
——————
FROM THE PROLOGUE:
“Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place in Blue Lock as the manager of player number…
…1, Itoshi Rin.”
'Player number one, Itoshi Rin. Player number one, number one…number…'-the words rang in your head like a mantra as you tried to process the information over and over again.
“PLAYER NUMBER ONE?!”-you exclaimed once realisation hit you in the face. Perhaps, a little too loudly, earning yourself quite a few envious looks and surprised glances. Standing in the room for a few seconds, you didn’t move due to the shock of what just happened. You might have stayed like that forever, if one of the girls who were still waiting for their turn, hadn’t shouted at you.
“Yeah, we heard that the first time!”
Rude. You thought, before snapping back to reality and heading towards the door that had the ‘MANAGER’ label on in bold, black letters. Stepping into the room, to your surprise, was Anri waiting there, sitting at a desk with neatly arranged papers, folders, and all kinds of pens on it. Sensing your presence, she stood up, and when you got there, she extended her hand, saying “Congratulations” with a bright smile. You thanked her before she turned around, searching through a pile of booklets before stopping her finger on the with your name written on the cover.
“Here. It’s kind of like a little guide, it will be very helpful for adjusting to your player. This thing contains your new routine and some useful information as well.”-she said, handing it to you.-“Good luck and welcome to Blue Lock!”
She then directed you to Team A’s soccer field, where the boys were currently training. Walking your way there, you felt your hands starting to sweat, heart beating a little faster than normal, and the feeling of excitement from earlier coming back. After all…
Imagine being THE Itoshi Rin’s manager, who’s the best in Blue Lock with his jersey number confirming his position.
Itoshi Rin, with whom your first meeting couldn’t have gone worse. Who, after only 5 minutes, tells you with a straight face that:
“I don’t need a manager.”
Leaving you stunned at his plain attitude and bluntness. Seeing as you stare at him, without another word, he turns around and starts to walk away, which causes you to panic. Not knowing what to do in this case, you call out his name multiple times, hoping he stops. That doesn’t seem to work, so you decide to shout at him the first thing that comes to your mind.
“ARE YOU ITOSHI SAE’S BROTHER?”
The moment those words slipped out of your mouth an incredibly awkward silence fell over the room. Oh. My. God. This was probably the dumbest thing you could have said, but in your defense, it did make the boy stop in his tracks.
Catching up to him, you apologized, saying this was just a slip of the tongue. Rin looked unfazed, but the way his body tensed up told you that you probably touched a sensitive topic there. Before you could open your mouth again, he sighed and gave you a nasty stare, walking past your figure without sparing a second glance.
Great first impression.
——————
•Rin, who after that incident starts ignoring your presence. Whenever you hand him a water bottle or try to strike up a conversation, the only thing you get back is an uninterested look. Your apology the day before was also left on heard.
•Learning it through the hard way, but working with him meant keeping his brother’s business or any news or posts related to him out of your mouth. Even mentioning the famous footballer's name was forbidden territory, and although you never questioned his strange behaviour towards the older one, you do wonder what happened between them.
•Rin, who has a particularly strict routine that he follows without a break, doesn't expect you to be near him, but when the opposite happens with you sticking around, like an annoying fly 24/7, he wishes to find a way to somehow get rid of you.
•He doesn't know that you work your butt off, spending your free time watching every single match he has previously played in as well as analysing and taking notes of his every move. From waking up earlier than the player himself to prepare his yoga mattress and drinks for the morning to staying up until midnight to help him collect the footballs he shoots for late-night practices and cleaning up as soon as he finishes.
•However, it takes weeks until he finally talks to you, his first words being "Move over!" because you were standing in front of the weights he was gonna use. Over time though, even if it's just a short yes or no, a huff or an ugly look, but he starts to answer the many questions you ask every day out of concern or curiosity.
•Rin, who’s stoic and not a man of many words, silently starts to appreciate the way you have his daily routine and training engraved in your mind. You, who's always within arm’s length making sure he doesn’t overwork himself to death or forget his meals. You, who never knows when to shut up, sticking to his ass all day to confirm he’s alive and well, complaining or scolding him for being rude and unfriendly to his teammates, and showering him in compliments from time to time like:
•“You were amazing on the field earlier!” or “I’m jealous of your eyelashes!” and then there’s his favorite line that goes -“Isagi looked soooo shocked at your goal!” (it’s not a compliment, he thinks it is)
——————
•After weeks of working together, you’ve mastered the art of reading his microscopic facial expressions to know what he wants or thinks without him having to tell you directly. You’re busy, work schedule being fully packed, but still making time to accompany him in the evenings to rewatch and analyse his games before bed.
•However, sometimes too tired to stare at the screen, you end up falling asleep on his shoulder, making him complain to you the next day to quit drooling on his uniform and get a grip. He doesn’t want you to 'slack off' he says, but ultimately the underlying message is to take care of yourself.
•Rin, who works ten times harder during the preparation for the U20 match, training to face his brother on the field and making you constantly remind him to: “Get some rest” or “Relax, otherwise you will get injured before the real match!”-your words being ignored as usual.
———————
AFTER THE U20 MATCH…
•Rin’s popularity skyrockets following the victory of Blue Lock, yet he always manages to respond in a raw, unfiltered way at press conferences and interviews, that leave many reporters and paparazzi speechless.
•His newfound fans, on the other hand, adore his cold demeanor, and the comment sections are each time filled with either compliments about his plays or looks and never the ridiculously simple answers he gives to the media.
•Joining the team of PXG also makes the teal-eyed boy change in many ways, but surprisingly his attitude towards you somehow remains the same.
•Rin got 'new' teammates, a new coach/mentor, and new training routines. Everything is new. Better. Yet, he’s somewhat relieved that you're still his manager. The one who’s not afraid to call him out or nag at him. Knowing when to leave him alone at times. Letting him focus on his goals without getting in his way. Keeping him away from Shidou Ryusei outside the field as much as possible. Shoving down his throat the meals made according to his diet and making sure he sleeps exactly 7.5 hours.
•He hates to admit it, but you’re perfect…for being his manager of course. The only problem he finds is the way you make his heart move a little when you come to his games, supporting him with his jersey on, proudly wearing the name Itoshi Rin and number 10 across your back.
•Heck, these days he also can’t seem ignore the way you stare at him for an unnecessary amount of time during his warm ups and stretches, the slight shade of pink covering your cheeks every time he runs to you after a match, covered in sweat asking for some water and his towel.
•He notices your flustered state when he bends down a little to hear you better, or the way he sits just a tad bit closer to you during your French tutoring. It’s distracting. Not only to you, but to him as well. Yet, he doesn’t mind it nor does he do anything about it.
•Maybe in a few years, he thinks, if you'll still have some affection left for him, he could allow something other than just a strict, professional relationship between to two of you.
•However, currently, there’s no place on his priority list for you since football is his number one goal after all. He knows you understand that, that’s what he loves about you. Besides, you’re going to stay by his side for a long time, so what’s there to rush?
———————
(Gosh, my eyes gave up after rereading this for the third time 😭 hope you guys enjoyed it, let me know if u think this was a little too long and tyyy for the support ❤️ (★‿★)
#blue lock#blue lock x reader#blue lock x manager au#bllk x reader#bllk#itoshi rin#itoshi sae#isagi yoichi#bllk isagi#rin itoshi#itoshi brothers
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@cokoweee
Ya’ll ever have a dream so lifelike it feels aggressively real until one thing goes a little too wrong and then you start to realize that maybe you’re in a dream but it’s also too real to convince yourself it’s not real that you can’t wake yourself up?
TW: panic attack, I say gun, uhhh blood ig? Bishop says a kinda weird thing but that's just him bein him
can I say blood? last time I did it marked me as mature...
-
Her heart thumped against her chest, lactic acid building in her legs as she ran. She tapped furiously at her phone, fingers slipping over the screen as she tried to deploy Sheldon.
Donnie says “no no no” chimed a pixilated picture of Othello, his finger waving back and forth.
“What the-” She slammed against a wall, her shoulder crunching against the brick.
His stupid programming on the poor thing to keep Sheldon at his house. Maybe she could override it?
No, not enough time. She was just going to have to run and hope for the best.
Her shoulder screamed in protest as she climbed the ladder in the alley. Scrambling over the side of the building to catch her breath, she tapped at the screen again.
There had to be something she could do to foil his programming. She wiped at her nose, the cold still not quite gone even after days of bed rest. Bullets flew over the edge of the building, seemingly locking on to her body heat. Throwing herself at the ledge at the last second to force the bullets to crash into the wall she coughed violently, phlegm coating her throat.
Stupid sickness.
Stupid Othello leaving her with the stupid rabbit farmer.
She pushed herself off the ground, arms struggling under the weight of herself. It was as if every muscle in her body was on fire, each fiber screaming at her to stop. She gulped raising her head over the ledge. Agent Bishop was standing on the adjacent rooftop, his face curled into a sneer, eyes unblinking despite the sun in his eyes.
He waved at her, fingers waggling in the air as he pulled a small gun from his pocket. Aiming it directly at her chest he grinned, his eyes flickering with something distinctly unhuman.
She stumbled backward, her feet skidding over the concrete as he seemed to lock onto her. Loose rock dug into her knees as she clambered over the rooftop.
Away.
All she needed to do was get away.
She placed a hand over her stomach, feeling the raised bump of the scar, as she moved.
This was…
This was wrong?
It didn’t happen this way.
No. She didn’t need to get away, she needed to get out.
The bullet ripped into her skin, tearing away at muscle, and shattering the bone in her rib.
She screamed, blood pouring from the gaping hole in her chest, as Bishop moved closer. He walked to her side, footsteps clanking against the concrete.
Clawing at the ground she dragged her body along the roof, rocks digging under her nails. Bishop laughed, his foot trampling her hand, digging it into the ground. She gasped, breathing shallowly as she fought to get loose.
He grabbed her hair, wrapping it between his fingers and tightening his grip as he pulled her from the floor.
“Oh, this is wonderful.” He smiled, voice dripping with venom. “Such a pretty little thing I caught this evening. I’ve been dying to chat with you.” He pulled her hair up, forcing her to rise. “I wonder if she’ll do any tricks?”
She spat in his face, her ears filled with an all-consuming ringing.
Away.
She needed to get away.
It didn’t matter how. She needed to get away.
He said something else, flaunting some sort of mechanism he had hidden in his shirt. She tried to focus on his words, but her breathing was too shallow, her limbs too shaky, the ringing too loud for her to hear a word.
She clamped a hand over her chest, a sorry attempt to staunch the flow of blood from the gaping hole in her body. Cursing softly she watched as the red seeped into a slithering pink fleshy mass.
She stifled a scream as the pink turned an orange maroon, her own blood fueling some sort of monster.
“Shhhhhhh.” Bishop whispered against her ear, “It’ll be done soon. Just one quick slash and you’ll be out of my hair for good.”
The mass jumped forward, faster than she could comprehend, her body spasming in pain as she scrambled back.
Was this the Krang she’d heard so much about after she’d left the jail? Weren’t they supposed to be mindless or something?
It lunged forward again, tentacles lashing toward her face. Bishop shook her in front of him, like a toy for a dog.
“Kendra?”
She screamed as he tightened his grip on her, shaking her around like a bag of flour. The world around her turned hazy, her vision blurring in and out.
She wasn’t going to go out without a fight.
Throwing her head back she jammed her skull into his chin, breaking the grip he had on her hair.
She clawed at the ground, a strange silky feeling coating her fingers. Pushing away the softness of what was sure to be Krang, she kicked at the mass as it wiggled unnaturally.
“KENDRA!” A familiar voice shouted at her, a gentle three-fingered nubby touch against her arm.
Her eyes flew open, arms flailing to the sides to swat at what was left of the Krang matter, as hands held her back. She gasped, her chest heaving as a sinking feeling hit her gut. Dread splashed over her head like a wave, drowning her, leaving nothing but fear.
Eyes widening she looked next to her for Tello, horrified as darkness encroached on her vision, leaving her staring through a pin hole. Nausea rolled through her stomach as she gasped for air, her chest shuddering to keep up with her breathing.
It hurt. It hurt so bad.
“Hey, hey, hey.” He whispered, hand placed against her back. “It’s ok you’re home. You’re with me.”
She jerked backward. He was loud. So so loud. Even with the ringing in her ears, he was too loud.
Breaths were punched from her lungs faster than she could finish taking them in. Tears streamed down her face as her eyes blew wide. Her chest tightened, lungs twisting as she shook.
She’s dying. She has to be dying. There’s no other explanation.
Dead in her room from a nightmare-induced heart attack,
Her eyes flickered back and forth over the room, not focusing on anything, just wildly scanning for danger she knew wasn’t there. Willing her arm to move, she let out a chocked warble.
The room seemed to melt around her. Things blurred together, a fuzzy abstract painting of almost-real-life. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she tightened her muscles.
Her whole body shook as she tried to take steadying breaths.
“Did you know softshell turtles only have half a plastron?”
She was in the middle of dying.
She most definitely did not need turtle facts right now.
“Technically a full one, but it’s covered by skin, rendering it effectively useless for plastron purposes.” He shrugs. “Same deal as the shell.”
She looked at him, confusion breaking through the panic.
“Makes us really flexible though. Wanna see?”
He got off the bed, walked to the middle of the room, and bent backward. He smiled upside down at her from the floor and smoothly brought himself back up.
“Pretty neat huh?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Bet no other turtle you meet could do that.”
Amusement rippled through her as she watched him demonstrate his stretches and various yoga poses.
“I’ve never met another turtle like you.” She breathed, some of the panic melting away.
“Precisely! No one can do it like me!” He said, pointing his finger at her triumphantly before his face softened. “ We starting to feel a bit better?”
She brought her thumb and pointer finger close together. A little
He nodded. “Am I good to come back up or do you need some space?”
She patted the bed next to her, inviting him closer. She waited until he was seated comfortably before slumping against his shoulder, exhausted.
He shifted slightly, reaching for his phone with one hand, the other wrapped around her. He let them sit for a moment, reminding her to breathe every few seconds before Sheldon zipped into the room.
He whispered something to Othello before zooming out of the room. She watched passively as it happened, her body still not quite connected to her soul.
Sheldon returned moments later, a bag of ice, a bottle of water, a cookie, and tub of lavender lotion in his little propeller arms.
Othello took them from him, patted his head, and shooed him away. Taking one of the ice cubes he flattened out her hand and placed it in her palm.
She jerked slightly at the sensation of cold in her hand, surprised when he placed another in her palm.
“Focus on the melting.” He said, voice low and gentle.
The ice filled the lines of her hand and dripped over the sides and down her arm. She shivered as the water pooled in her hand. Othello grabbed the cookie from the pile he had created and broke off half to give to her.
“Thanks?”
He watched her carefully. “What does it taste like?”
“A cookie?” She said through a mouthful, her hands still full of TV static.
“I need details.” He pressed.
She paused, taking a moment to consider the flavors in her mouth. “Vanilla, chocolate chips.” She took another bite. “ Like I left it in the oven a minute or two too long and overcooked them just slightly.”
She’d have to make another batch, this time keeping an eye on the time.
He pressed an uncapped water bottle into her hand. “Drink.”
She pressed the bottle to her lips, feeling the way the cold blossomed against her skin as she held it there. Quietly observing the way she could feel it go down her throat and into her stomach.
“Are we feeling more alive?”
She nodded, running her hand along her thigh to feel the fabric of her pajama pants as she pressed her head against his side.
“Good.” He murmured, sleep creeping into his voice. “You had a panic attack I’m pretty sure.”
“...Sorry it was for something stupid.”
“I get worked up over stupid stuff too.” He mumbled, eyes half closed.
“Your stuff isn’t stupid.” She countered.
“Then neither is yours.”
She stopped, lifting her head to look up at him.
He grabbed her hand, flexing the fingers for her. “You feel ok?”
“I don’t know.” She answered honestly.
He nodded and guided her to a lying position. “Tell me five of your favorite things.”
She paused, looking around the room. “Hmmmmm. You.”
“Thank you.”
“Mhm. Uhhh, lavender. The color purple. Satin jackets. Baking. Messing around in the lab. Oh, I guess that’s more than five.”
He tapped her shoulders rhythmically, “You can keep going if you need to.”
She took in a deep breath. “I think I’m ok now.”
“Positive?”
Nodding she pulled the blankets over herself. What she really needed was rest. She was so exhausted from the whole ordeal that the idea of doing anything else felt impossible.
He got off the bed again, searching beneath the bedframe for something before he pulled a large purple blanket from under the bed. She blinked in surprise as he placed it over her, a weight holding her down to the bed.
“I should’ve mentioned it was weighted.”
She pulled her hand out to give a quick thumbs up as he climbed back into bed. She shifted to hold out her arm for a hug. He smiled and pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist.
“You smell like you’ve been using my soap.” She grumbled against his plastron.
He shrugged. “ I like the way you smell.”
Rolling her eyes she tugged the blanket higher over her shoulders smiling as soft chirping filled the room, the sound he always made right as he fell asleep.
“Good night Tello.” She whispered.
His plastron vibrated as he churred back, gently running circles through her hair.
She was home. And she was safe.
~
squad don't write stuff at four AM I'm pretty sure this only makes sense to me at this point. Anyway I was listening to my pretty princess playlist while writing this 💁♀️
the reason why this was written is in the tags btw
#Me and my friend were hanging out and she got all excited when I told her I was minoring in creative writing#she asked for me to read me some of my stuff and I agreed LIKE AN IDOIT#well i open my docs and low and behold it's what I posted yesterday#mind you that doc is titled ugly sewer man and his pretty wife#i scroll before she can see the title but at this point I have to read this one#its too late for me to exit the doc without me being suspicious#I read it and she's all like “Well butter my backside and call me a biscuit I forgot you wrote but you do a pretty dang good job!”#I'm just sweating bullets coz I just read her my fanfic of Donatello the ninja turtle and Kendra the dragon chick#she'll never know and I'll never tell her that she was read kendratello fanfic with the names and some of the words replaced#its worth it to say that this isn't the first time that this has happened with her#last time it was the freaking really long one with Leo dying dead and Don also trying to die dead#i went home and cooked myself some pasta to recover because wtf was that#and I was so upset by the situation that instead of sleeping I wrote more kendratello fanfic?#pee pee poo poo#caca dodo even#FOUR AM BABY AND IM STILL HEREEEEEE#Ya'll also got some free stuff to use to help a hommie out if they ever start having a panic attack#tapping method will work on yourself as well if you start feeling freaked out or not in your body.#just cross your arms over your torso and put your left hand on your right shoulder and vice versa tapping your shoulders one at a time#im sleepin now#gn yall
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fake fic title: Flowers Bloom In The Cracks
(idk it just sounded pretty lol)
i would post something in regard to the evans sisters to this, probably something with petunia, how prettier and bigger flowers bloom in meadows or fields (lily) and smaller, less significant flowers bloom in cracks (petunia)
or something with narcissa, maybe during the war or shortly after it, about how, between the cracks and pieces of her old family (the blacks) and her new family (the malfoys), the war affected her and didn't let her grow to her full potential
#this title is so good mind if i use it if i start writing a fic like that?#fake fic title asks#asks#lily evans#petunia evans#narcissa black#narcissa malfoy
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I love your work so much and it makes me feel a certain way <33 BUTT im here to request something that I've been looking for 🤞🏽
Toji x Fan-Fiction-Writer ! Reader? I'll get on my knees if required 🫶🏽
��𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐜(𝐤)𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!! | tōji fushiguro
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You know, some things are just not meant to be shared, such as fanfiction writing. And how the hell did your boyfriend, of all people, come to be the one to question you about your hobbies? You tell me, you dirty little writer…
𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem fanfic writer! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - the reader is mid/late 20s; Toji's in his mid-30s - humor - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking, sucking and swiping) - deep impact position - degradation (slut, whore) - use of "Daddy" title - praise + humiliation - spitting - cervix fucking - little bit of rough sex - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly) - pet names (baby, cupcake, good girl, mama, princess, sweetheart, sweetie) - aftercare; taking a bath together - usage of a phone; erotic literature/writing - Toji teasing you to no end, the bastard, lol - reader wears glasses cuz why not, hehe - mention of drool/spit.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k (bless up)
𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: bro. this idea cooked so bad, i just HAD to make a fic for it, lmao!! apologies for doing this months late, hope I did the prompt justice, and ty for loving my works~☆
“Nooo, stop, Toji, give it back!”
“Hold on, baby, hold on…Phew, who knew ya liked wrtin’ dirty shit like this? The fuck is ‘pet play—’”
“Oh my God, stop it!”
This had to be, undoubtedly, the worst day of your life.
If there’s one thing every human being on Earth has in common, it’s their love for the weekends. They’re amazing — have two whole days to retreat and relinquish the turmoil and stress after five days straight. They’re the days when you can choose whichever activity you want to enjoy your leisure.
Some people catch up on sleep, others watch a show or try to cook up a new dish, and some go outside and hang out with friends. But then there are those weekdays where it’s satisfying enough to spend your day inside the comfort of your home, delighting in a hobby.
The hobby you chose to indulge in this weekend was writing. And right at this moment, you regret it being the activity you selected.
Why? For one, it wasn’t just any type of writing, like journalling or poetry. No, no; if it were, things would be easier for you to deal with now. Nope, it was fan fiction writing. The type of writing you’ve known since middle school and decided to jump in and try for about a year. What started as a curiosity turned out to be a hobby that took up your infatuation to the maximum level: writing pieces every night, taking up requests from your following over six thousand followers, and serving as an outlet to project your fantasies onto the Internet.
What type of fantasies, you might ask? The type you read in a room by yourself or in the corner away from prying eyes, under a blanket with your phone exhibiting the dark secrets that corrupt your mind, or the type that only could be accepted on the Internet and not from the judgmental looks of those in the real world.
But, most certainly, not the type of fantasies you wanted your boyfriend to see!
“Toji, please, give my computer back!”
“Nah, hold on; I wanna see this…Oh, what a title; ‘Fuck Me, Rail Me, Use Me, Daddy—‘“
“TOJI, STOP!”
Perhaps writing fan fiction with your boyfriend occupying your apartment wasn’t the best idea. But you wanted to get a draft don’t by the end of this weekend, and you were almost done with it. You were typing up a storm in your bedroom, sitting at your desk while your man, Toji Fushiguro, was doing at-home exercises in your living room.
And you could’ve sworn you had locked your computer before going to the bathroom. All you know is that after flushing and washing your hands, you opened your bedroom door to a horrifying sight: Toji, sweaty from his routine in his sweats and wife beater, holding up your laptop that showed the exact draft that you were working on! No, no, NO! You almost tripped dashing to take the device, but the older man was too quick and effortlessly dodged your attempts while still reading the material. And now you know why you are hopping around your room trying to catch the man and stop him from reading more of your stuff.
Spoiler alert: your efforts were beyond futile, huffing and puffing in complete defeat on your bed. Your boyfriend was sitting beside you, still reading aloud while scrolling through your drafts, to your dismay. Your ears and cheeks harbored an unbearable heat that you could cry at any second, and you covered your face in case it were to happen. God, please kill me now!
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, how many of these shits have you written?” Toji inquires, his forest green eyes scanning every draft as if the list were endless. “How long have you been doin’ this?”
“For…a while.” You can barely muster the confidence to utter an adequate response. How could I have forgotten to lock my damn computer?!
“How long’s a while?”
“Uhhh, a…a year?”
The silence was pinching your skin enough, but you don’t know if you preferred it over the next thing he said. “Wow, who would’ve thought my sweet angel was a dirty lil’ thing writing filth like this?” Oh, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. You can practically sense the smirk on his stupid, handsome face, pulling the scar off his lip! And it hurts your being that he laughs at you grabbing a pillow to scream into oblivion. “What a horny minx.”
You removed the pillow to tell him off. “It’s not all my fault! Most of those aren’t even my ideas; some of my followers asked me to write—“
“Followers?” God, would it have killed you to shut up? “So you got people readin’ your stuff?”
Downcast eyes to avoid his surveying ones, “W–Well, yes…People like how I write, so I…..Write whatever they ask me.”
“Oh, wow,” raven eyebrows lift while looking at the screen, flipping through the notes of your drafts to your blog with your completed works. “So over a hundred freaks like how freaky you write.”
“Hey, d–don’t say it like that!”
“Oh really?” You didn’t like how he said that, nor when he pulled up one of your drafts to read. “… ’You spread your legs on instinct as she sucks on your chest, and the woman takes the initiative by sliding a hand down to your—‘“
“Stop, stop, STOP!” You sit upright and try again to take the computer away from him, but Toji swiftly moves to the bedroom floor. Fuck! It was hopeless, so you groan in exasperation. “Quit it, Toji; you had your fun, so give it back!”
He didn’t think so; finding something new about you made him curious to no bounds. And for it to be a bit of a suggestive side of you? Oh, how ashamed you were of him finding this out tickled him. “Damn, there’s so much on here…Have you ever written ‘bout shit we’ve done?”
You couldn’t believe he asked you that question — you couldn’t believe you were in this situation at all! Are you serious ”—ly asking me that?!?”
“I’m not hearin’ a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” Now, this is just diving into a more profound level of embarrassment than you could handle. “Did’ya?”
“……………yes.”
“Wait, fr’ real?! Which ones?”
“I’m not telling you! Just give me my laptop—“
“Hell nah,” his elbow is strong enough to keep you at bay—how pathetic on your part being treated like a kid. “I’m curious to see what my lil’ sweetheart is tellin’ strangers ‘bout how we do our business—“
“I’m not telling them anything!!” You retort. “I-I just use our experience as a means of…references when I’m writing,” thumbs find themselves fidgeting together. “It…It helps when I don’t know how to describe a feeling, or….what it’s like during certain…..positions.” Was the room getting stuffy, or were you shrinking under the growing pressure of every word coming out of your mouth? Who knows.
“Is there stuff y’ve written before that you’d like fr’ us to try?” Oh, for fuck’s sake, this was too much, bringing your –his– hoodie up to shield you from this predicament. And it only worsens when he stares your way, having you close up the hoodie by the drawstrings and collapse to his shoulder. Toji chuckles at your routing self, wrapping an arm around you. “Can’t even be honest fr’ a second.”
“Toji, pleaseeee,” whining doesn’t help, the older man moving the laptop out of your lazy attempt to retrieve it. “Give it baaack…!”
“Nnm, nnm, don’t wanna,” he places the device away to the ground and takes your hand with his. “Now I gotta read what weird shit you’ve been keepin’ ‘way from me.”
You shake your head frantically. “Please don’t! Don’t you think you’ve tormented me enough today?”
“Now, why would I ever get tired of fucking with ya?” The smirk on his face is still present after you open the hoodie to sneak a glare. “Shoulda thought ‘bout that and locked y’r laptop screen.”
“You’re such a fucking asshole…” his laugh at your words only proves your point, and you bury your face in his chest. This entire thing was so outrageous. How in the world were you this dumb enough not to double-check to make sure your computer was locked from prying eyes? What an amateurish move! Not even your closest friends know that you write fanfiction, so to have your boyfriend be the one to not only find out but bombard you with questions about your secret hobby is nothing short of humiliating. It can’t get any worse than this…
…Or so you thought.
“Hey,” you perk up to look at Toji. “You said ya got followers askin’ ya what they want you to write, right?” You nod meekly, twirling your thumbs with the bottom of your shirt. “Show me some.”
Appalled, you gawk, “Wh–why would I—”
“I know you have favorites from the hundreds I’ve been looking at for the past five minutes. So, are ya gonna show ‘em to me, or am I gonna have to read every single one to find out?”He didn’t show interest in returning the laptop to you even after asking the question. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, baby; I bet ya can look it up on y’r phone or somethin’.”
Your pout deepens in defeat as you begrudgingly stuff a hand inside the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone to click on an app. Your thumb clicks and scrolls for a few seconds before you peer to him and say, “…I do have some favorites.”
Jesus, it hurt to admit that to someone, especially with your him of all people, who is without a doubt getting an absolute kick out of this, the fucking bastard! This was beyond embarrassing; nothing could ever top this moment. Indeed, there is nothing else he could have done that could have made this predicament any worse than it already is. At least that’s what you tell yourself to cope because Toji’s grin on his face says otherwise. And what he says afterward makes your blood shift to ice.
“Why don’t ya read ‘em to me.”
Yup, you were killing yourself tonight.
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“Go on; read that short one fr’ me.”
“Ahh—…Hahhh, ‘Sitting here and thinking…about your faves…Mmmm.”
For some reason, this felt so. Fucking. Wrong!
You already knew it was a bad idea for you to read your works to your boyfriend at his request. However, to be fulfilling said wish in this manner? The mortification had your ears ringing a thousandfold.
How would you have foreseen this yourself, face stuffed to the pillow with your phone held up by your right hand with your legs spread up and your bottom propped up? Who the hell reads like this?! And on top of that, your boyfriend is alongside you, his body behind you. The inability to see what he’s doing arises uneasiness in the soul, quivers sneaking up as you feel the rough pads of his fingertips greet the skin of your ass after sneaking inside the oversized hoodie.
Breath hitches at the slide of your panties, coming down for his hands to grope the flesh wholly. “To..ji…” his name leaves in shakes.
“C’mon, baby,” you swallow thickly at the cupping of your chasm. Toji chuckles at the twitch felt on his palm, “Read it properly, yeah? Word for word.”
Oh, fuck, your brows trench together. “T…’Thinking about your faves pleasing you from behind. He knows he has to tease you a bit—Tmmm,” his lightly hits your butt. “‘B-By massaging your ass with his strong hands,” he does so, kneading your ass skillfully that has you involuntarily purring to his touch. “…’Keeping you still and relaxed so he can later feel you with his fingers and—“ his forefinger and middle slowly come from your clit to the entrance, biting your lips. “Nhhmm, hahhh.”
“Go on,” Toji scolds, the middle digit sliding up and down with a faint push. Your back quakes to the touch, fingers gripping the pillow. “What else is y’r fav doing?”
You inhale. “Mmmm…’and circle one of them around to warm you up—‘“ spit gulped down again when Toji’s digit did the exact thing as told. “‘And then, when he knows you’re ready for him, he sneaks them insi—‘ Aaaiiii!” His middle finger is shoved into your vagina, and your toes instantly curl before he pushes the rest ever so slowly. “Oh! Ohhh, fuck…’He…then comes to your shoulder and says to your ear to make you tingle…”
“…’Stay still, sweetie,’” woah. You were not expecting that; you were too focused on trying to read your words, and Toji bending to your ear to read his part wasn’t noticed at all. You only hope he didn’t catch the clasp of your vaginal walls around his finger (he most definitely did), hoping the soft chortle meant nothing. “‘Gonna let me make y’ feel good, yeah?’” Jesus Christ, his gruff voice relayed this so intimately to your eardrums that your heart was beating too hard.
Toji’s finger goes faster, nearly having you almost drop your phone. Your face smooshes to the pillow from the scrape of his fingertip, biting on the pillowcase as he puts in the other finger. He whispers to your ear to keep going; unbelievable…So you lift your head and try. “J-J…’Just thinking about how easy he could make you cum—Mmmph! Wi-With his fingersss…scratching and rubbing your insides so precisely until you’re practically begging to mess his hand up’…”
“Oh, fr’ real?” The perk of his tone makes you anxious. “Well, don’ mind if I do.”
The pace of his ring and middle finger increase, and you gasp sharply. The onslaught of rubs to your inner channel is enough to have your lower half writhe despite Toji keeping your legs grounded with his single one. Oh, fucking Christ, your glasses up to your smooshed cheeks the more you try to conceal your cries, proven to be trivial as the seconds go by.
“Aww, whaddaya think y’re doin’?” He coos with a kiss to your nape; you nearly shut down. His free hand takes your phone, “Tryin’ to hide that cute voice of y’rs from me? Fuck that,” he then removes his digits from your chasm as you yelp and makes you flip to your back. Oh, fuck no! Your hands go to cover your face—nope, Toji is quick to move them away. “Lemme see you, mama…Now, let’s see what else you should read fr’ me.” He swipes your phone screen, “This too wordy, this long as fuck—goddamn, baby; you writin’ whole ass novels or somethin’?”
“Shut up,” you reply as your legs move, and Toji’s left hand removes your undies.
“Ah, this one!” He hands you back your cellular device. Your eyes catch the first sentence, and your face morphs into dread before staring back at him to meet his grin. “Go ‘head,” he says cooly, spreading your legs by the knees.
“…’Picture this: your favorite coming to your room and seeing you on your bed and striding to you to taste you,” you inhale deeply at the blow of air on your wet southern folds. “‘He crawls up to you while you’re busy scrolling on the phone, busying himself with placing kisses to your stomach and down to your undies. He’ll then take them off and spread your legs for him, greeting your privates with his ton’—Ghhh…!” Toji licks your slit leisurely; you gulp at the muscle perching between the lips of your labia. “Hahhh, shit…’The smell and taste of you are so inviting he can barely keep it together, virtually inching to stuff his face with your pussy. He kisses it, lips petting your clit,’” he does so, and you chew your bottom lip. “‘Then his tongue goes excruciatingly slow to e-explore your folds,” your exhale is shaky as Toji’s tongue laps and swirls; fuck, I can’t do this…
The older man, on the other hand, flips a switch and goes to town. You knew this was a bad idea; if there’s one thing Toji loved doing more than fucking your cunt, it’s eating it out. He pushes your legs up by the knees for easier access, the angle perfect for him to propel his mouth onto your entrance. You shriek, his nose frequently grinding the hood of your cunt as his scarred lips and tongue suck and lick you feverishly.
“—Tahhh! Ohhhshit, no…!” You cry, throwing your head back to the pillow. “Ahhnn, Tojiii, stop…not too fast—Oooh!”
He spits, mixing his saliva with your slick as he laves. “Mmmph, shit, taste ’o good,” Toji pushes his face further as he sucks on your clit, and you nearly choke on your sob. “Yeah, yeah, let ‘em out; scream like a real whore.” You jerk, but his hands firmly keep you down. “Keep goin’, cupcake, finish y’r reading.”
“Khhh, God, I can’t,” you gulp when emerald eyes peer toward you. “…’Before long, he’s too overwhelmed by you that he can’t take it anymore, stuffing his face between your legs and having you cry out his name in prayers—your phone is no longer a priority.’” Jesus, you can hear his grunts along with the lascivious sounds coming from below; he’s so fucking turned on. “‘Now he has your attention, playing with your…pussy like a toy just to hear you squeak.”
“Fuck yeah,” he groans as he sticks his fore and middle digits into you. Fingers go to and fro frantically, and your free hand grabs his raven hair. “Christ, y’ sound so fuckin’ hot. More, gimme more,” a long and harsh kiss to your clit makes you want to arch so bad. “Good girl, good fuckin’ girl…”
You hiss at the graze of your vagina; keeping your eyes open is hard to do. Lips go agape, and your noises fly out with no restraint. Your legs tremble, impending in a wish to close from the curl of Toji’s fingers. Your senses become too keen, your nerves heightening with every massage of your walls, lick and slurp of your slick and clit.
“Ohooo, nhhmm, fuck, Tojiiii,” another suck to your clit has you grip the sheets. “Stooop, please; I’m gonna cumm…!”
However, your boyfriend has another idea in his head. “Oh no, you don’t, princess,” his fingers leave you hurriedly with a squeal. He yanks for your phone once more to find yet another piece of yours for you to read, giving you so little time to recuperate. Until he scoffs with a smirk, “Ohh, read this one aloud next.”
You take the device returned to you cautiously, scanning the first few words that catch your eye. Curiosity snaps to apprehension, “W-wait, no, please!” Begging won’t work, but it doesn’t hurt to try. “Please, Toji, look for some—“
“Aht, aht,” the click of the tongue shuts you. “C’mon, sweetheart, that ain’t what y’re callin’ y’r fav right now.” He squeezes your thigh, “What’s my name?”
“Toji, pleas—“
“Mm, mm,” he pinches you, a warning. “Try again.”
Excitement Nervousness flicker through your soul, breathing tardily as you muster to answer. “Sorry…Daddy.” The title burnt your tongue when it left your mouth, and the smile lifted Toji’s scar even more.
“Good,” he praises. “Now read.”
“…One of my followers asked about writing a post about deep impact, so it’s—“
“Deep impact?” He questions while spreading your legs. “The hell’s that?”
“I-It’s a, uhh,” you push up your glasses. “A position where you…kinda, like, sit on one of my legs and lift the other to your shoulder.”
Black eyebrows rise. “Ohhh, somethin’ like this, huh?” Sturdy hands find your ankle and lift your leg to his shoulder, and Toji then moves to have your other leg in between his. Your lips flatten when the groin of his pants—aka, the pitched tent–touches your hole. He whistles, “Oh, now I got a new favorite to add fr’ later.” His words aren’t meant to jest, so you frown as he snickers. “Alright, what did you write for this?”
You lick your lips; why? Toji uses his free hand to bring his sweats down, not surprised by the lack of underwear as his erection springs out. His cock is standing and ready for you, the precum oozing out alluring your eyes and your lip bitten by excited teeth. Of course, your vagina is clenching to a void—anticipation is a hell of a drug affecting your entire figure.
“Don’t get too distracted, mama,” he caught you eyeing him, lifting the hem of his wife’s beater to bite down on. Your ears and cheeks scorched at the sight of his abs and torso. “Read those words.”
Your gaze flickers to your phone while Toji lines his dick to your entrance, a gulp at the kiss of his glans and your inner labia. “…’Daddy has you propped in a deep impact, a position catered to mutual pleasure and closeness. He taps you with the tip to have you excited, then slowly pushes himself into your—Mmfff!…y-your warmth,” reminding yourself to maintain a steady breath; Toji pushes his cockhead into your slick as you’re distracted. A few seconds fly by, and he slips right in; a gasp exiting your puffy lips indicates so. “‘H–He gently shoves every inch and stretches you out,’” his girth is lethal, your eyes rolling up the further his tip goes, scrapping your texture and your opening suiting for his length. “‘A-And, it feels so good to have him making you full and good’—Hoohh?!?”
That’s it, that’s what you were anxious about—you felt the jab of his tip on your cervix. You freeze instantly, too shocked to breathe as the hit was spontaneous. Your body locks down for a quick second to process what happened.
Toji notices your tightened grip and hisses, “Fffuuckin, shit…! So tight,” his hips go sluggish, and you feel his veins and shaft brush nicely with your insides. You sneak a glance at his flashed abdomen; the flex of his abs as he pushes his pelvis in waves is a sight to see–enough to put you in a trance.
You continue. “‘His hip work is pleasuring, having you wail and cry out f-for more…the sensation of Daddy’s dick venturing inside and hitting your sweet spots is enough to make your toes curl—Nhhaaa…”
He can sense you gripping on him more; fuck, it feels so good. His thrusts go a little faster, forming a minimal medium. You exhale through your nostrils at the change of pace, and grazes against your walls become periodic and long-lasting the deeper he goes.
“Daaah, ahhh, f-fuuck,” you whimper aloud. “Tojiii, y’ feel so g—Nnnmm!?!“ You nearly swallow your tongue from the sudden pound of him, the rub of your G-spot too abrupt to predict.
“Who?” God, you know he’s getting a good kick out of this, the fucker. He pushes his cock to the hilt, and it takes everything in your power not to babble from the overwhelming intensity.
“Daddy, daddyyy, don’t…!” Correcting yourself as his fingers dance around your unattended clit. “I’m sorry, you just feel so good..”
That’s more like it. “Good girl,” he bends closer, his knees spreading further apart. He pushes the leg on his shoulder so that the angle is plausible for him to rut harder. You shriek and squirm to his enjoyment, “Keep readin’.”
“‘Y-…You’re cries become more shameful the harder and faster he goes,” Toji stimulates for a harsher pound; another hit to your cervix has you winded. Despite your gasping for air, he doesn’t relent, and you jerk to undulate to another poke. “Sh-shiiit, Jesusss…! ‘He pistons so hard, so deep, it’s difficult even to think straight when all you can think is—‘“ a choked sob from a slow pull before a devious snap of the hips. “A-All you c–an think…Ahahh!” Another nudge to your G-spot; this is so hellish!
The culprit scoffs softly. “Think ‘bout what, baby?” He swipes and pinches your clit to have you jolt and whine. “Tell Daddy the rest.”
Fuck, I can’t take it anymore! The phone slips your hand, barely missing your head. “Daddyyy, I can’t!”
“Why? What’s wrong?” Another pinch to the bud pairs with a poke to your delicate womb. Oh, he’s such a dick! “Don’t wanna read fr’ me?” He chuckles aloud at you shaking your head ‘no’. “Why’s that?”
“C-Cuz, if you keep going, I’ll,” a head thrown back at another nip on your clitoris. “Ahh, I-I’ll…!” Shit, you can feel it, the climb rocking your bones to entail your soon climax.
“What? Ya wanna cum on Daddy’s dick instead of readin’ like a sweetheart,” don’t believe the words; his faux disappointment doesn’t match the merciless thrusts and the devilish grin. “Wanna act like a whole slut and cum on me?”
“Yesss, yes, pleasee!!” You don’t care anymore; you want to let it out. “Please, Daddyyy, I wanna cummm!!”
“Heh, what a nasty girl you are—Nnnmm! Fuck, just milkin’ me dry, beggin’ fr’ it, huh?” The same fingers he used to play with your clit come to your lips to shove inside, forcing you to taste yourself. “Go ‘head, mama; let y’rself go, be the slut you really are…Hahhh, shit, c’mere,” he grabs for both your wrists with his free hand after taking off your glasses and propels you towards him at the same time as he pounds. Holy fuck, this position was getting rougher, pulling you in and hitting your cervix with accurate hits that you’re whining and twitching. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck! It’s too much, it’s all too much to bear, so it’s no wonder you climax in seconds.
You cry with the breach of your crescendo, your inner muscles contracting around the cock, hitting your womb. Your nerves are now peaked as the air is sensitive to your skin, and you feel so out of breath, everything happening all at once that you can’t keep up as you thank Toji in babbled prayers, still sucking on his fingers as your vagina flutters and coats him of your essence.
“Good job, cupcake,” he comes closer and removes his digits. “Can’t beat the real thing, right?” He cups and massages your cheeks before spitting into your mouth.
You don’t even flinch, too fucked out to even care, just moaning to his lips as he brings you in for a passionate kiss as his hips keep going until he’s done and satisfied…
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
“Ughhh, I can’t believe I just did that…”
“Pfft quit whinin’. Don’t act like ya didn’t enjoy it.”
“I hate you so fucking much, you know that?”
“Whatever y’ say, Ms. Novelist.” You grumble at the name before he brings the washcloth to wipe down your neck.
You and Toji were now in the bathroom, your nude bodies squished together, with the warm water cleansing you both. Hair and skin damp, your back meshed to his front as you sit between his legs. The soft yellow lighting basks the bathroom with a warm glow as you two bathe in relaxation, a needed state after the excitement prior.
You snatch the washcloth before Toji wipes your face clean off. “Why did you have to be so nosy, looking at my laptop for what?” You wipe his arm that rests on the rim of the tub.
He rolls his eyes, knowing he’s in for a lecture. “Well, if ya didn’t want me to see, shoulda locked the shit.”
“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re nosy as hell! Could’ve just looked somewhere else or left the room!”
“Hmph, well, when you see the words ‘Down and Dirty’ all bolded and big and see another tab with a pic of a rimjob, who wouldn’t stop—“
“Okay, okay!” It would be best if you threw the cloth at him for chortling; such an indecorous personality for someone supposedly older than you. “You’re insufferable.”
“Right back at you,” he whispers to your ear and kisses your cheek. You sigh softly from his lips, resting your head on his shoulder while he pecks your chin. The hand in the water finds your thigh to grope and massage, and you moan at the touch and unwind.
Tranquility fills the cozy space between you two as the silence settles in, the humid air comforting to your nose and eyes, and the drip of the faucet plucking into the tub water is a soothing sound to cajole you into a dormant plane.
However, even when relaxing, it doesn’t stop the bothersome feeling of asking Toji something. And where better than with you in his secure embrace? “Toji,” his name has him open an eye to look your way. “You don’t think I’m…weird, don’t you?”
He raises a brow. “Explain.”
“Like, don’t you find it weird that me, your partner, indulges in hobbies that are…you know, like that,” now your eyes trail away from his gaze. “Writing about fictional fantasies and such, looking up erotic material and stuff…”
A few seconds fly as he scoffs. “Baby, I’ve been lookin’ at porn way before I met you—“
“Th–That’s not what I meant??”
“Besides, it’s nothing more than just writin’ shit that doesn’t exist. Hmm, if anything, now I know y’re just as big of a pervert as I am.”
Anxiousness transitions to peeve. “You are so—“
“Do you like what you do?”
The question takes you aback; the immediate serious tone switch wasn’t expected. “…I..yeah.”
“Are ya hurtin’ anyone?”
“No…at least I don’t want to.”
“Are ya hurtin’ y’reself?” You see what he’s doing, the glint shining from his viridian orb.
“No. I…like this hobby.”
Finally, a small smile contorts that scar of his. “Then I don’t mind it. It’s what ya like to do, so do whatever, sweetie.” He comes to kiss your nose and rest his forehead with yours. “I like ya bein’ a lil’ weird anyway.”
“Jackass…” And there you go, falling in love with him again. You cup his cheek, kiss the other, and repose onto his shoulder with a blissful sigh.
“Now,” you blink back to him. “Can’t lie, think you gotta start callin’ me ‘Daddy’ from now on,” like a scratched record, your heart stops, especially with his mischievous smirk. “Where can I read the rest of y’r stuff at?”
“That’s it,” you ignore his annoying bark of laughter as you try to squirm out of his hold. “Let me out of here, get me out of this fucking tub.”
“Haha, hey, quit it; y’re spillin’ the water!”
© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header art by rororogi morgera + dividers by @/cafekitsune + @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#toji x reader#toji fushigro x reader#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushiguro x you#toji x you#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji x you#fushiguro toji smut#toji fanfic#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fic#jjk fic#anime smut
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Hey can I get a jealous Jude x female reader. Nothing too toxic lol l, it’s just some guys hitting y/n up on social media and somehow Jude sees the DMs and gets a little jealous. Then his petty self goes and posts a picture of him and his girlfriend on her ig or something petty like responds back with a “she’s busy bro”. Thanks 🫶🏻
jealousy | jude bellingham
obsessed with this concept already !!
summary: while you're getting ready to go out on a date with your boyfriend, he accidentally sees some dms he doesn't like and decides to do something about it
warnings: none
word count: 738
a/n: boring title booo i know i know i couldn't think of anything better :( i do hope you like the one shot tho it was fun to write about jealous jude <3
you were getting ready to go out on a date with jude while he was laying on your bed waiting for you. his phone was charging somewhere in the living room so you gave him yours to play a game so he doesn’t get bored. you were putting on your makeup while singing along to your playlist while he was building some villages or whatever it was that they do on clash royale. however, jude got distracted when an instagram dm pop up at the top of your phone, it was from this formula 1 driver that he knew was always liking your pictures, he didn’t knew he was dming you as well. he thought about opening the message, but he didn’t want to invade your privacy like that, so he simply looked at you.
“someone dm you.” he says.
his voice took you out of your little world and you place your gaze on him thought the mirror you were applying your makeup on.
“who?”
“lando norris.” he reads the name like he didn’t knew already.
“what does it say?” you hide a laugh and continue with your makeup routine.
jude opens the message and reads it out loud. it was obvious he was hitting on you by replying to a story you had posted earlier that day when you went to brunch with your friends and you felt cute.
“are you gonna answer?” he asks again, hints of jealousy on voice.
“not really, no.” you answer and go back to singing along and applying mascara on.
when jude goes back to the screen on your phone his thumb accidentally swipes left and your whole inbox is completely exposed to him. he didn’t meant to do that, but it really was an accident and he couldn’t help but see now that it was there, only he wished he didn’t have.
some of your dms were just conversations with your friends, but a lot of them were just guys replying to your stories and hitting on you, which made him even more jealous than before. you never replied to them, going as far as deleting some of the messages you received, but since you hadn’t checked your instagram since that afternoon a lot of dms from different guys complimenting you on your story were there for jude to find.
he frowns at the phone and takes a look at you, completely oblivious while doing your eyeliner. his eyes go back to the screen and he starts looking up some pictures that you took the week before of you two.
“do you mind if i post one of those pictures you took of us last week?” he asks out of nowhere. “so i can repost it on my story.” he clarifies.
you frown a bit confused because this is the first time he has asked you something like this, but after him seeing the other guy’s dm and feeling a bit jealous you connected the dots and smile amused.
“sure.” you say.
he nods and went to post a story with the two of you looking definitely like the couple you were. he spend a few seconds thinking about a good caption, landing on a simple “my boyfriend❤️”, very straight to the point. he also tagged himself big enough for everyone to see and posted the picture, a satisfied smile on his face.
when you were done with your makeup and ready to go, you approached him and sat on his lap, your phone still in his hand.
“let me see the picture.” you smiled. he shows you the story and you rolled your eyes, a bit amused at his possessiveness. “was that really necessary?” you point at the text and he just shrugs.
“i just feel like there’s a lot of people that don't know we’re together, you know? just wanna put it out there.” you nod, fighting the smile on your face and putting your arms around him.
“is that so?” you tease him, getting closer to him if that was even possible.
“yeah, lots of guys on your dms.” he confess. “they liked your selfie earlier.”
“hmm.” you answer. “i wouldn’t know about that, i only like one guy.” a treacherous smile takes over his lips and you take the opportunity to kiss him. “wanna go? we’ll be late to dinner.”
jude just nods and gets out of bed, never dropping your hand for a second.
#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham#jude bellingham one shot#real madrid x reader#jude bellingham fluff#jude bellingham x y/n#football#football one shot#jude bellingham x you#jude bellingham fanfic#jude bellingham imagine#jb5#jb10#jude bellingham gif
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So High School | Kim Mingyu
pairing: fiancé!mingyu x pregnant!fem!reader
rating: fluff, mature
genre: non-idol au, slice of life, established relationship
summary: you and your fiancé haven't discussed the idea of you having children, but with your wedding approaching, the idea of starting a family with him has been on your mind.
warnings: please read ALL! contains smut! not much but a little! (!!!) some time skips, reader gets pregnant, planned pregnancy, reader's mom loves mingyu, reader deals with morning sickness (for my fellow emetophobics this may be triggering!), minwon coworkers mentioned, smut warnings: creampie, unprotected sex, multiple rounds mentioned, backshots, fingering.
word count: 3k
AHEM! go listen to so high school by taylor swift (perhaps while you read!)
author's note!: i listened to taylor waaaay too much while i was writing this, as you can probably tell by the title 🫣 what can i say! guilty. my first time writing slice of life au! i had fun lowkey. AGHHH i just love writing cute mingyu esp when it involves future dad mingyu. the song lyrics are meant to be spacers for the time-skips btw! shoutout to @jenoslutie for also supporting my vision with this 💋 muah xo
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I feel so high school every time I look at you, I wanna find you in a crowd just to hide from you...
Mingyu was your dream man in many ways than one. The perfect boy to bring home to your parents, cooked delicious meals for you, and overall made you feel safe.
You two had been engaged for months now, and wedding planning was well underway, the date set for early into the new year. As if it wasn’t stressful enough, your mom had already started questioning whether the two of you had wanted children, or planned to in the future. The answer was always the same,
“Mom, I don’t know… we haven’t talked about it into a lot of detail… maybe later on…” or “C’mon, we’re still young, Mom!”
Mingyu didn’t know any of this, and you’d probably never tell him, not wanting him to feel pressured by your badgering mother. You both knew you wanted children eventually, but you never talked that far into the future.
But… you also thought… maybe you would want to have children, if it was with Mingyu.
Mingyu would be the father to play dress up and makeovers with your daughter, have tea parties with her, or play with faux tools with your son and pretend to fix things, and play with plastic dinosaurs.
You couldn't picture anybody that would be more perfect to do it with than him.
Are you gonna marry, kiss, or kill me? It's just a game, but really I'm bettin' on all three for us two...
Mingyu stands at the kitchen counter, cooking dinner like he usually does, and he usually insists since he gets home a little earlier from work than you do most days.
You come from the kitchen after changing out of your work clothes to see him chopping garlic as a pot is boiling on the stove.
“What are you making?”
“Agio e olio,” Mingyu responds, looking up to smile at you briefly. “I know it’s your favorite, and you said you were craving it.”
You smile, coming over to kiss him on the cheek quickly. “Thank you, you make it so good anyway.” You chuckle as he playfully rolls his eyes.
He tosses the garlic in a pan on the stove, stirring it a little, then adds the pasta to the boiling water.
You decide now is the time to break your silence, and tell him what’s been on your mind lately.
“Gyu,” You speak up. “… I think we should talk about something.”
“What?” Mingyu’s gaze turns to meet yours, a concerned look on his face, and you immediately want to kiss him and make it go away.
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been thinking…” You pause, racking your brain on how to word what you’re about to tell him, also given that you didn’t want to scare him. “What do you think about us… having a baby?”
You look up at his undeniable surprised expression; after all you did come out of nowhere with that statement.
“I mean, I know we haven’t really discussed it much, and we’re getting married in a few months… but I have been thinking about it a lot, and I want to, we’re at that age-“ You break out into a nervous ramble before he cuts you off.
“I’ve thought about it too. I thought it should be something that we should…you know… talk about.” Mingyu says.
“I don’t want to put any pressure on you, or I guess, on us.” You continue. “I know we’re not married officially yet, and our wedding isn’t until a few more months, but I don’t know, I think I want to.”
Mingyu turns to you, smiling ear to ear in the adorable happy puppy way he typically does when he’s over the top excited about something. “I know, me too.”
“Does this mean… we’re trying?” You can’t even hide your smile, your cheeks hurt as you attempt to be the least bit nonchalant.
“Yeah… fuck… c’mere.” Mingyu pulls you closer to him, kissing you fervently.
You pull back, releasing his grip from your waist.
“Hey, after dinner,” You smirk, giggling at his eagerness. “You’re gonna burn your garlic.”
“Mingyu… I can’t, fuck-“ You whine, your face nearly buried into the pillow underneath you.
“Yeah you can baby…” Mingyu grunts, his hand slides up your back to push you down even more. “Taking it all like a good girl…”
You nearly collapse as you can barely hold yourself up anymore, and you’re being pushed forward almost to the headboard from the force of him behind you.
“I’m gonna come, ‘gyu.” You cry, your hand trailing down to rub tight circles on your clit, making your thighs tremble as you push yourself closer to the edge.
“Go on baby…” Mingyu groans, feeling you get tighter around him. “Cum all over my cock like a good girl.”
You cry his name again as he pushes you over the edge, white-knuckling the sheets as he keeps thrusting inside you, almost even harder.
“Fuck…” He groans as he slows down, stilling before he comes inside you.
He pulls out, watching himself drip out of you briefly as he curses under his breath, before he pushes it back inside you with two fingers, making you whine.
“Sorry, baby…” Mingyu sweetly apologizes.
You flip over on your back, pulling him down to kiss him.
“I wanna go again…” You say against his lips, pushing his sweaty long hair back.
“Really?” He asks sweetly, leaning down to kiss your neck a few times. “Wasn’t too much?”
“Never…”
Truth, dare, spin bottles, You know how to ball, I know Aristotle Brand new, full-throttle, Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto...
The next few weeks were just the usual. Going into work during the day, shopping for the wedding with your sister, … Mingyu practically never leaving you alone, but that you wouldn’t complain about.
“What kind of flowers are you guys doing?” Your sister asks you. The two of you made plans to get coffee, and you guys typically talked about whatever. She always voiced her opinion on your life whether it was boyfriends, career moves, and now: your wedding.
“White lilies; one of my favorites. Mingyu said I could just pick what I wanted, he’s happy with whatever I choose.” You say.
“That’s sweet,” She smiles, stirring her matcha latte. “Even though, he probably doesn’t care.” She chuckles.
“You’re probably right, I think he has other things on his mind other than flowers.” You laugh, only you know what you mean by that.
You never told her the both of you had been trying to have a baby.
“I’ve always liked him, though, you know that.” She smiles. “If there’s anybody you marry and spend forever with, i'm glad it’s him. He’s just right for you.”
You smile, glancing down as your gaze flickers on your sparkling engagement ring under the coffee shop lights.
You’re definitely glad it’s him.
“Do you mind if we go into the grocery store down the street? I need to just run in and get a few things.” She asks you.
You nod. “Yeah, that’s fine. I could probably use a few things too.”
“How do you know if a watermelon is a really good one?” She asks you, as the fruit by the entrance catches her eye.
“You’re asking me?” You laugh. “I have no idea, I have heard though if they’re a dark green, it’s too watery.”
“You were always good at picking them, I know Mom used to always say that.” She replies. “Maybe I won’t get one, are they even in season?”
“Probably not, it’s November. Anyway, what did you need here?” You say, grabbing a hand basket for yourself.
“Just usual stuff, yogurt… eggs, oat milk, some strawberries… whatever else I find that I think i need.” She says, placing strawberries and avocados in her cart. Already straying from the list.
You follow her, bagging up some apples, cucumbers, and brussel sprouts into your basket.
You’re both wandering down the ice cream aisle, as you’re grabbing whatever pint of peanut butter ice cream you can find, when your sister speaks up.
“Oh! Let’s go to the hygiene section, I need to get some tampons. That time of the month soon.”
You pause, ice cream in hand, suddenly racking your brain trying to remember when the last time your period was. A few weeks ago? Last month? Were you supposed to get it? Were you late?
“Y/n…? What’s wrong? Everything okay?” She asks, seemingly able to read your inner monologue going on in your head.
“Y-yeah…” You reply, placing the ice cream in your basket, all while your heart is still racing. Was it joy? Nervousness? “It’s just… I can’t remember the last time I had my period…”
I'm watching American Pie with you on a Saturday night Your friends are around, so be quiet, I'm trying to stifle my sighs 'Cause I feel so high school, Every time I look at you...
“I feel bad doing this without him,” You say, staring down at the two blinking pregnancy tests on the counter. “Mingyu should be here…”
“He’ll be home from work soon won’t he? You’ll tell him then. C’mon, he’ll understand, practically sister code for me to be the first one to know.” She replies, checking the time on her phone.
It’s true, you both always did tell each other everything before you told anybody else.
“It’s almost time.”
“I can’t look.” You anxiously turn away. “It’s killing me.”
“How did this happen?” She asks. “I mean… not to be nosey….”
“Well we talked about it, and we’ve been kinda… sorta, trying to get pregnant.”
“What?! How come you didn’t tell me you were?” She exclaims, playfully shoving you.
“We decided to about a little over a month ago. We talked about it, we decided it was something we both wanted,” You start, just as her phone timer goes off, you quickly turn around from the counter. “Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t look.”
“I’ll do it first,” She says, shoving her way in front of you. “Oh my god… y/n…” You can hear the excitement and smile in her voice.
You turn around, facing the two tests.
You see it, “pregnant”, displayed clearly on both.
“Oh my god, I don’t,” You almost stutter, lost for words. “I- I don’t know what to say.”
“Good news?” She asks.
“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You smile, suddenly becoming teary, feeling a bunch of emotions at once. Excitement. Nervousness. “I just- fuck… I wish Mingyu was here. I didn’t want to find out like this.”
“Relax, you’ll tell him later,” She laughs. “Especially ‘cause I know you won’t be able to keep this from him long.”
“No, you’re absolutely right. There’s no way I’m holding it in.”
And in a blink of a crinkling eye I'm sinking, our fingers entwined Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights Tell me 'bout the first time you saw me...
You spend the evening trying to decide elaborate ways that you’ll tell him.
Putting a test in a gift bag as a present? Corny.
Hiding it somewhere and letting him find it? Too lame.
You decided to literally just come right out and tell him, especially because you didn’t want to figure out some cliche way of getting it out.
Mingyu comes home from work, greeting you as he walks in the door, adorably kissing your forehead as he wraps his arms around you, perfectly engulfing you.
“How was your day, honey?” He sweetly asks you, genuinely curious as he’s awaiting your answer.
“It was good actually, I had coffee with my sister, then we went to the grocery store, doesn’t sound like much but we had fun.” You lean up and kiss his lips, smiling.
“But it’s better now that you’re here.”
Mingyu smiles, kissing you again.
“I’m going to get changed really quick, okay?” Mingyu says.
You jokingly pout. “Aw, but you look so nice in your slacks and button up shirt… at least let me savor it.” You reach up, undoing a few buttons on his shirt.
“Enjoying this?” Mingyu chuckles.
“Yes, very.” You smile.
“Well I was gonna ask you, if you wanted to, Wonwoo and Seungcheol asked if we wanted to go out and get dinner with them, and hang out maybe get some drinks.” He continues, before he starts walking off to your shared bedroom to change, as you follow him. “Wonwoo asked me before I left the office.”
“I don’t know… maybe?” You reply, hesitating a bit.
Meanwhile your mind works a mile a minute trying to think of how to break this news of yours to him.
“It wouldn’t be until a little later, if that’s better. No rush.” Mingyu says, nonchalantly unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it off. What a distraction.
He slips on a white t-shirt , and gray sweatpants; his usual after work attire. Suddenly you wonder if whatever you have to tell him is really that important anyway, and you immediately consider just saying “forget it” and fucking him right here in the early hours of the evening. What’d be the big deal? You were already pregnant, anyways.
No! You quickly shake that thought from your mind, refocusing.
“Gyu,” You start, getting his full attention. “There’s something… I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
“I’m not even really sure how to tell you, um hang on,” You continue, leaving the room quickly to retrieve one of the pregnancy tests you’d left in the bathroom.
You come back, very obviously holding something behind your back.
“I guess I should say I kind of have a surprise to tell you.”
“What? What?” Mingyu asks, eager already by the way you’re already smirking, unable to contain yourself.
“It’s, um, this…” You start, pulling the test from behind your back. “I didn’t know how to tell you, I was gonna plan something but I couldn’t wait.” You laugh, smiling ear to ear.
Mingyu takes it from you, seemingly uncaring, or forgetting, that you literally peed on the thing. His mouth drops opened, in awe.
“Oh my god…” He speaks, beaming. “When did you find out?”
“Today, actually.” You say. “I wound up taking a test, and… yeah.”
You sigh. “I feel so weird about it, I know I was expecting it but I feel so excited and nervous at the same time.”
You glance up at Mingyu, and you see him still examining the test in his hand.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah,” Mingyu nods, his eyes meeting yours and you see he’s now smiling. “I’m just… happy, surprised..”
“I mean, cmon, what were we really expecting…” You joke, blushing.
“You know what I mean, it’s still crazy to me.” Mingyu comes closer to you, kissing you.
“Yeah, it sure is…” You smile up at him.
“It’s okay, honey,” Mingyu reassures you, speaking softly. “Just get it out…”
Mingyu kneels behind you on the cold tile floor, holding your hair back as you’re hanging your head over the toilet as your stomach empties its contents.
“There you go…”
You wonder how he can even stand to be in the bathroom with you, if the roles were reversed, you’d be outside the door nearly gagging.
“Are you okay?” Mingyu asks, helping you sit up, as he wraps his arms around you to keep you steady.
You slowly nod as you flush, still feeling a touch of nausea. “Yeah, can you just- just stay here for a little bit.”
Mingyu sits on the tile floor as he leans against the bathtub, and he guides you back to sit in front of him.
You lean back into him, and he leans down and kisses your shoulder. You catch a glance at his watch on his wrist even in the dim light of the very early morning.
“Oh my god, Gyu, is it really 5am?” You groggily ask, feeling sorry. “You have to work in the morning, don’t you?”
“Shh, it’s okay, it’s not a big deal.” Mingyu reassures you. “I can always go in a little later, I wanna make sure you’re okay.”
“…I think I’m good now,” You say, starting to stand up slowly, as Mingyu helps you all the way. “…You know, I have heard that the more nauseas you are, it probably means you’re having a girl. And if you have none at all, it’s probably a boy.”
Mingyu chuckles, “Where do you come up with this? Is that even a thing?”
“The internet… you know, social media. Everything’s on there.” You protest.
“You’re delirious,” Mingyu playfully rolls his eyes. “Cmon, let’s go back to bed.”
“Gyu, we have to leave in like an hour,” You say, as you’re getting ready in the bathroom, finishing up your final touches on your hair. “I don’t want to be late for dinner at my parents house.”
Mingyu stands in the doorway now, “This okay?” He shows off a navy blue polo shirt and black jeans.
“Yeah, honey, you look nice.” You smile. “Besides, you could wear anything around her, she adores you anyways.”
It was true. Your mother would always be calling Mingyu to help around the house when your Father was away on a business trip. She needed help fixing something? She’d call Mingyu. She needs help building a side table? You bet she’s calling Mingyu. His height was also a bonus, being able to reach things stored higher up.
Mingyu smiles at you adoringly, as his eyes trail down your body.
“What?” You ask when you notice him.
“You’re starting to show a little,” He smiles. “You look cute.”
You giggle, placing your hands on your stomach. “Yeah I know, she wants to be seen now, she’s done hiding.”
“Well, are my girls ready to go?” Mingyu smiles, kissing you.
“Yeah,” You giggle, smiling as you kiss him again. “Let’s go.”
It's true, swear, scouts honor You knew what you wanted and boy, you got her.
tags: @jenoslutie @wonuwrites @aaniag @cosmojinyoung
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So this NOT to imply the writing is bad
But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser
Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?
Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used
Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael
(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)
Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.
Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.
Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.
Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.
He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.
Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.
Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.
He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.
Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.
"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.
It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.
For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.
“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”
The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.
Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.
With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.
You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.
Finally, one of your spells strikes true.
The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.
You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.
But the celebration is short-lived.
Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.
“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”
With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.
You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.
What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.
The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.
You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.
Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.
"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.
Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.
“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.
You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.
You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”
His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”
You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”
“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”
You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.
The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.
“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”
“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.
“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”
Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.
“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”
Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.
You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.
“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?
Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.
Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”
You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.
Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.
The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.
You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.
“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.
You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.
“We’re not done here.”
And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.
Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.
“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.
He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”
His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.
By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.
“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”
His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?
“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”
Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”
“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.
“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.
Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”
He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.
You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”
Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”
You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”
Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”
You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.
“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”
Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”
And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.
For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.
-
As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.
Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.
What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?
Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.
How did you get so far away?
He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.
Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.
With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.
But the moment is fleeting.
He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.
“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.
Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.
"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”
Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.
"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"
Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"
"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”
That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.
"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."
"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"
A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.
"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”
Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”
“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”
There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.
Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”
Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.
“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.
Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”
With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.
Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.
He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.
Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.
#batfamily#yandere batfam#platonic yandere#neglected reader#yandere bruce wayne#yandere damian wayne#yandere cassandra cain#yandere dick grayson#yandere jason todd#yandere tim drake#john constantine#yandere john constantine (kinda)#batfamily x neglected reader#batman#batfam#batfamily x reader#justice leauge dark
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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?”
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YOU OPENED YOUR REQUESTS?? omg a wonderful start to the new year!! ignore if this doesn’t speak to your soul— but would you be able to write a good old fashioned best friends to lovers, mutual pining fic for reid? i’m a sucker for the “he fell first, she fell harder” trope, like he’s been in love with her since day one and their friendship has always toed the line of something more, but she’s an oblivious genius and doesn’t realize how deep their affections for each other run……. and like when she realizes her feelings (like a brick to the head) she starts DISTANCING HERSELF OOH A LITTLE ANGST THERE and reid is like :(( what did i do :(( but it’s ok bc they smooch and make up in the end
263 DAYS — SPENCER REID!
a lot can change in 263 days.
spencer reid x fem!reader | 7.3k | flangst | masterlist.
a/n — writing longer fics like this is so fun but also so long, but it’s been nice to get back into it 🙂↕️
WARNINGS | friends to lovers, emotional distancing, brief (almost) argument, reader gets injured and goes to the hospital (but recovers fine), happy ending
DAY ONE
You step into the conference room of the Behavioral Analysis Unit, a mixture of nerves and anticipation twisting in your stomach.
The space feels both larger and smaller than you'd imagined—a sprawling table, chairs scattered in quiet disarray, and a dozen tiny details you'd only seen in crime documentaries and shadowed profiles on paper.
The faint scent of coffee and something metallic—maybe old ink—hangs in the air, grounding you. You take a slow, measured breath, trying to steady yourself.
You’re here. You made it.
“First day?”
The voice is soft, inquisitive, and it pulls your attention immediately. You glance to your right and meet the eyes of someone who seems equally curious and cautious, like a bird assessing whether you’re safe to approach.
He’s lanky, taller than you expected, with an untamed mop of brown hair and a pair of shoes that look like they’ve seen a decade’s worth of pavement. Spencer Reid, you realise.
“Yes,” you manage, your voice steadier than you feel. “And you must be Dr. Reid.”
He smiles at the title, though it seems more reflexive than genuine. He shuffles forward a step, hands awkwardly held together behind his back. “Just Reid. Or Spencer. Whichever you prefer.”
You offer your hand to him, nervous, but inviting. “Nice to meet you, Reid.”
He nods quickly, eyes flickering over your hand like he wants to take it, but he doesn’t. “Sorry, I don’t uh— germs—”
“Oh,” You pull your hand back a little too quickly, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket. “Sorry, uh—”
“No, no, it’s not you, I’m just— conscious about it,” He presses his lips together in what almost a smile, a silent apology.
You mirror it. “It’s nice to meet you anyway,”
“You too,”
His gaze flicks over you, not in the usual appraising way you’ve grown used to from strangers, but more like he’s cataloging details he can’t quite put into words. There’s no judgment in his eyes, just pure, unabashed interest.
“You’re nervous,” He says, then winces. “Sorry. That sounded... obvious. I just meant—it’s normal. Most people are their first day. Especially here,” His voice lowers slightly, conspiratorial. “It can be... intense.”
A laugh escapes you, light and involuntary, breaking the tension in your chest. “Not exactly comforting, but thanks for the honesty,”
This time, his smile reaches his eyes. “I’m not great at comfort, but I excel at honesty.”
You find yourself smiling back, even as a small voice in the back of your mind whispers that you shouldn’t let your guard down so easily. Not here, not yet.
But something about Reid—his sincerity, the way he tilts his head like he’s trying to solve a puzzle only you can provide—makes it hard to resist.
“So, what brought you to the BAU?” he asks.
The question is simple enough, but the weight behind it is clear. He isn’t just asking out of politeness; he genuinely wants to know. You consider your answer carefully, aware of the dozen eyes that will likely follow your every move today.
“Truthfully? It’s… been a dream for years,” you admit. “I’ve always been fascinated by the psychology of it. How people work, why they do what they do. And... I guess I wanted to make a difference,”
His expression shifts, softens, like you’ve just handed him a piece of yourself and he knows better than to drop it. “That makes sense,” he says quietly. “You’ll be good at this,”
The confidence in his words surprises you. “You don’t even know me,”
“Not yet,” he says, and there’s something almost playful in his tone. “But I’m usually good at reading people. Comes with the job,”
“Any initial impressions?”
He hesitates, and for a moment, you think he might deflect. But then his gaze meets yours again, steady and unwavering. “You’re smart. Observant. But you second-guess yourself more than you need to. And... you’re kind. I think you’ll see things others might miss because of that,”
The honesty in his voice leaves you momentarily speechless. Kind isn’t a word you’d ever considered an asset in this field, but the way he says it makes you wonder if it could be.
“Thanks,” You say, and mean it.
Before he can respond, another voice cuts through the room. “Reid! Stop monopolising the newbie and get over here.”
You glance over to see another man—broad-shouldered, with a gruff boyishness to him. If you had to guess, you’d say that Derek Morgan.
Reid offers a small, apologetic shrug and gives you a quick, almost shy smile before moving to join the others.
As the team gathers around the table, you feel his presence more acutely than you should, like an invisible thread connecting you even when you’re not speaking. Every so often, you catch him glancing your way, his brow furrowing as if he’s trying to figure out a particularly tricky equation. And maybe he is.
Over the course of the day, you learn what makes Reid so extraordinary.
The encyclopaedic knowledge, the way his mind works at lightning speed, piecing together patterns and details that no one else sees.
But you also notice the little things—the way he fidgets with a pen when he’s nervous, the way his voice speeds up when he gets excited, the way he looks at you like you’re the most fascinating mystery he’s ever encountered.
By the time the day ends, you’re exhausted but exhilarated, your head spinning with new information and possibilities. As you gather your things, Reid approaches you again, his movements hesitant but deliberate.
“You did well today,” he says, and there’s no trace of condescension in his tone—just genuine praise.
“Thanks,” you say, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the compliment itself and everything to do with who it’s coming from.
For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, as if unable to stop himself, Reid blurts out, “You’re going to fit in here. I can tell,”
You tilt your head, studying him. “And you’re sure about that? Already?”
He nods, his gaze earnest. “I don’t know how to explain it. I just... I feel like you belong.”
The words linger between you, heavy with a meaning you can’t quite name. You smile, soft and unsure, and he mirrors it, his expression a little brighter than before.
As you walk out of the building together, the weight of the day finally settling on your shoulders, you can’t help but think that maybe Reid is right.
Maybe you do belong here.
DAY ONE-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-NINE
The BAU has a way of warping time. Six months can feel like six years, and yet, it can pass in the blink of an eye.
By now, you’ve settled into the team, carving out a place that feels solid, even comfortable. The initial nerves have faded, replaced by a quiet confidence that surprises even you. But the biggest surprise is Reid.
Somewhere along the way, he’s become your constant. Late nights poring over case files often turn into coffee runs, his impossibly detailed book recommendations have all but taken over your nightstand, and your shared chess games have become an unspoken ritual, the board tucked into the corner of the break room practically reserved for the two of you.
It’s not that you don’t notice the way he seems to gravitate toward you—it’s just that you don’t think much of it.
Reid is Reid: attentive, brilliant, and endlessly curious. If he listens a little more intently when you speak, if his smiles linger longer than necessary, if he remembers details you barely recall sharing, well, that’s just how he is. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.
The morning starts like any other.
A case has just wrapped, leaving you with a rare, precious day in the office to catch up on paperwork and recover. The bullpen hums with low chatter and the rhythmic tapping of keyboards, but your attention is elsewhere—specifically on the chessboard in front of you.
“Check,” Reid announces, his tone smug but his face a careful mask of neutrality. He leans back in his chair, arms crossed loosely, his expression daring you to find an out.
You narrow your eyes at the board, studying the positions like your life depends on it. “I don’t like you very much right now,” you mutter, earning a soft laugh from him.
“You don’t mean that,” he says, his voice warm.
“Don’t I?” you quip, your fingers hovering over your knight. You’re stalling, and he knows it.
“Take your time,” he says, though there’s a playful glint in his eye. “It’s not like you have anything else to do today.”
You glare at him, but there’s no heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this too much,”
“Maybe a little,”
The banter is easy, familiar. It’s become second nature by now, a rhythm you fall into without thinking. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you move your knight, narrowly avoiding defeat.
Reid’s brow furrows as he examines the board. “Not bad,” he concedes.
“I’ll take it,” you reply, leaning back in your chair and stretching.
“Lunch?” he asks, already rising to his feet.
“Let me guess,” you say, smirking. “Thai food again?”
“It’s efficient,” he says, as though that explains everything.
“Efficient isn’t the same as exciting,” you tease, but you grab your jacket anyway.
The walk to the nearby restaurant is brisk, the February air biting against your skin. Reid falls into step beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“Did you finish that book I lent you?” he asks, glancing at you.
“Not yet,” you admit. “But I’m close. You were right—it’s better than I expected,”
He grins, and you feel a flicker of satisfaction at the sight. “Told you. It’s all about the narrative structure. Did you notice how the author—”
“Reid,” you interrupt, laughing. “Save the lecture for later. I’m still processing and I have a feeling you’re going to spoil the ending,”
He huffs but lets it go, his grin lingering.
—
Back at the office, you dive into the endless pile of paperwork waiting on your desk. Hours pass in a blur of forms and reports, the steady hum of activity around you lulling you into a comfortable rhythm.
It’s only when a steaming cup of coffee appears in your peripheral vision that you realize how long you’ve been sitting there.
“Thought you could use this,” Reid says, setting the cup down beside you.
You blink up at him, surprised but grateful. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I know,” he says, his lips twitching into a small smile.
He doesn’t leave, instead pulling a chair up beside you and settling in. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the quiet companionship as natural as breathing.
“You know,” you say, glancing at him, “you don’t have to babysit me.”
“I’m not,” he says simply. “I like being here.”
There’s something in his tone that makes you pause, a softness that feels almost... vulnerable. But before you can dwell on it, he shifts the conversation, asking about your latest case report.
The moment passes, but it stays with you, an echo at the back of your mind.
—
The day winds down with another chess game, this one more competitive than the last. The bullpen has emptied out, the rest of the team long gone, leaving just the two of you and the faint hum of the building’s heating system.
“Checkmate,” Reid announces, his tone triumphant.
You groan, dropping your head onto the table. “I give up. You’re officially unbeatable,”
He laughs, the sound soft and unguarded. “You’re getting better,” he says, and you know he means it.
“Flattery won’t save you next time,” you say, sitting up and meeting his gaze.
His smile falters, just for a moment, and there’s something in his eyes you can’t quite place—something intense and unspoken. You tilt your head, about to ask if everything’s okay, but he looks away, busying himself with packing up the chess pieces.
“Same time tomorrow?” he asks, his voice carefully neutral.
“Of course,” you say, watching him.
As you part ways for the night, that look lingers in your mind, and for the first time, you wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOUR
It starts with the little things.
You notice Reid’s uncanny ability to anticipate your needs long before you voice them. A cup of your favorite tea waiting for you on your desk after a long day.
A book you mentioned in passing, slipped into your bag with a handwritten note on why you’d love it. The way he finishes your sentences, not out of impatience, but because he’s somehow always attuned to what you’re thinking.
It’s Reid being Reid, you tell yourself. He’s observant, that’s his job. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.
But then there are the things he shouldn’t know. Like how your nose crinkles when you laugh too hard, a detail even you hadn’t thought about until you catch him smiling faintly at the sight. Or the way he hums along, almost unconsciously, to the songs you sing under your breath while focused on paperwork.
You’d dismiss it as coincidence, but Reid doesn’t believe in coincidences.
It’s a cold, gray morning when the call comes in—a double homicide in a rural town that has the local police out of their depth. By mid-afternoon, you’re knee-deep in the case, the clues coming together like pieces of a grim puzzle.
You and Reid are tasked with canvassing a suspect’s property, a sprawling, dilapidated farmhouse that creaks ominously with every step. It’s quiet—too quiet—and the sense of unease prickles at the back of your neck.
“I don’t like this,” you mutter, glancing at Reid.
He nods, his hand hovering near his weapon. “Neither do I. Let’s stick together,”
The words are barely out of his mouth when it happens. A figure bursts from the shadows, wielding a machete with reckless desperation.
You react instinctively, your weapon raised, but the suspect moves faster than you expect, slamming into you with full force.
Pain explodes in your side as you hit the ground, the breath knocked from your lungs. Reid’s voice cuts through the chaos, sharp and commanding.
“FBI! Drop the weapon!”
The suspect hesitates for a fraction of a second—just long enough for Reid to act. His shot is precise, disarming but not lethal, and the suspect crumples to the ground, writhing in pain.
Reid is at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he presses them against the slash on your side, stumbling through the order for a medic on his radio.
“You’re okay,” he says, his voice tight with panic. “You’re going to be okay.”
You manage a weak laugh, wincing at the pain it causes. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, Reid,”
His eyes dart to yours, wide and filled with something that looks an awful lot like fear. “Don’t joke,” he murmurs. “Please don’t joke.”
His hands are gentle but firm as he applies pressure to the wound, his lips moving in a quiet stream of reassurances you barely register. “Just breathe. Help’s on the way. You’re fine. You’re fine.”
The world blurs at the edges, but through it all, you feel him—his presence steady and unyielding, anchoring you to the moment.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIX
You wake in a hospital bed, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling your nose. It takes a moment for the haze to clear, and when it does, the first thing you see is Reid.
He’s sitting in a chair beside you, his posture stiff, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. He looks exhausted, dark circles under his eyes and his hair messier than usual, but when he notices you stirring, his expression softens with relief.
“You’re awake,” he says, and there’s a faint tremor in his voice.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” you say, your voice hoarse.
His laugh is soft, almost disbelieving. “You have a talent for understatement,”
He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, and for a moment, he just looks at you. There’s something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded—that makes your chest tighten.
“I thought—” He stops, swallowing hard. “I don’t know,”
“I’m alright, Reid” You offer gently.
He nods, but his jaw tightens as if he’s holding back a thousand words. “You scared me,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
You reach out, your fingers brushing his arm, and the tension in his shoulders eases slightly. “I’m okay,” you say, and though the words feel inadequate, they seem to bring him some comfort.
For the rest of the night, he stays by your side, his quiet devotion more reassuring than any words could be. And for the first time, you start to wonder if there’s more to Reid’s attentiveness than you’ve allowed yourself to see.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-SEVEN
The BAU rarely has time for unwinding, but tonight is one of those rare evenings. A case has wrapped early, the unsub is in custody, and Hotch decided to reward the team with a dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant not far from Quantico. The room is filled with laughter, the clink of glasses, and the scent of fresh bread and marinara.
You sit sandwiched between Morgan and Reid, your wine glass half-full and your plate of pasta nearly untouched. The conversation flows easily—Morgan cracking jokes, Garcia spinning outrageous anecdotes, Rossi offering sage commentary.
You chime in when prompted, but your mind is elsewhere, your attention flicking between your teammates and the warm, intimate glow of the restaurant.
It’s when the laughter swells again, this time at something Garcia said, that you notice it.
Reid’s gaze.
He’s looking at you, not laughing, not even smiling, just... looking.
It’s not the way someone glances at a friend or colleague. His eyes hold something deeper, something unspoken but achingly clear. Admiration. Longing. Affection so palpable it steals the breath from your lungs.
The realisation hits you like a freight train, or perhaps a brick to the head, straight into your brain like it’s punishing you.
Every late-night chess game. Every quiet conversation over coffee. The way he remembers the smallest details about you, the warmth in his voice when he says your name, the way his presence feels like a comfort you didn’t know you needed—all of it comes crashing into focus.
How had you missed it?
But the thought doesn’t end there. Because as much as his gaze stirs something in you, it also forces you to confront the ache you’ve felt for months.
The way your chest tightens when he smiles at someone else. The way your pulse quickens when he’s near. The way your stomach flips at the simplest touch—a brush of his hand against yours, his knee grazing yours under the table.
Oh no.
Panic bubbles in your chest, threatening to spill over. You tear your gaze away, your hands fumbling for your wine glass as you take a too-large sip. It does little to steady you.
“Hey,” Morgan says, nudging you lightly with his elbow. “You good? You’ve been quiet,”
“I’m fine,” you say quickly, the words too sharp, too rehearsed.
Morgan raises an eyebrow, but thankfully, Garcia swoops in to demand his attention, sparing you further interrogation.
Beside you, Reid shifts slightly, his knee brushing yours again. The touch is electric, sending a jolt straight to your heart. You chance a glance at him, and for a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he simply offers you a soft, almost hesitant smile.
It’s that smile—sweet and unguarded—that undoes you.
You force yourself to focus on the chatter around the table, the way Garcia’s voice rises animatedly, the way Rossi’s laughter rumbles like distant thunder.
Anything to keep from drowning in the realisation that Spencer Reid, your closest friend and the person who knows you better than anyone, has somehow become the centre of your world.
And worse—much worse—is the fear that you’ve been blind to his feelings for so long, that your obliviousness might have hurt him in ways you don’t yet understand.
By the time dinner ends, your head is spinning, your chest tight with emotions you don’t know how to name, let alone confront.
As the team begins to gather their things and head for the door, Reid lingers beside you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks softly, his voice tinged with concern.
You force a smile, though it feels brittle. “Just tired. Long day,”
He nods, but the worry in his eyes doesn’t fade. “If you need to talk—”
“I’m fine, Reid,” you say, a little too quickly. A little too sharply.
His expression falters, and guilt twists in your stomach. You want to explain, to tell him that your panic has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that you’ve just realised you’re in love with him. But the words stick in your throat, too raw, too terrifying to voice.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you manage, grabbing your coat and heading for the door before he can respond.
As you step into the chilly night air, the weight of your realization settles over you, heavy and inescapable.
You’re in love with Spencer Reid. And you have no idea what to do about it.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-TWO
The days that follow are a blur of avoidance and self-doubt. You bury yourself in work, volunteering for extra tasks, lingering at your desk long after everyone else has gone home. When Reid suggests coffee or a quick game of chess, you make excuses—paperwork, errands, a headache.
“It’s not you,” you insist each time, forcing a smile that you hope looks convincing. “Just busy.”
But it is him. Or rather, it’s you. The truth feels too messy, too raw to share. You can’t bear the thought of risking your friendship, of letting your feelings slip and watching the warmth in his eyes dim with awkward discomfort. It’s easier this way, you tell yourself. Cleaner.
It doesn’t feel cleaner. It feels awful.
—
Reid is nothing if not perceptive. You know this, and yet it still catches you off guard when he notices your distance almost immediately.
At first, he’s subtle about it. A furrowed brow when you brush past him in the bullpen without stopping to chat. A quiet “Are you okay?” when you excuse yourself from a team lunch, claiming a nonexistent phone call.
But as the days stretch into weeks, his concern deepens.
One evening, after a particularly grueling case debrief, he approaches your desk with a tentative smile, holding out a steaming cup of your favorite tea.
“Peace offering?” he says lightly.
You glance up, surprised, and for a moment, the warmth in his expression makes your resolve waver. But then the weight of your feelings crashes over you again, and you force a polite but distant smile.
“Thanks, Reid,” you say, taking the cup without meeting his eyes. “But I really need to finish this.”
He hesitates, the smile slipping. “Did I... do something?”
The question hits you like a punch to the gut. You look up, startled, and find him watching you with a mixture of confusion and hurt that makes your chest ache.
“What? No, of course not,” you say quickly, too quickly.
“Then why—” He stops, his hands fidgeting with the strap of his bag. “What’s wrong?”
Your heart sinks. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you lie, but even as the words leave your mouth, you know he doesn’t believe them.
“Right,” he says softly, his gaze dropping to the floor.
The silence between you stretches uncomfortably, heavy with everything you’re not saying. Finally, he nods, stepping back.
“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “I’ll… let you get back to work, then,”
As he walks away, a knot of guilt tightens in your chest. You want to call him back, to explain, to apologise, but the words won’t come. Instead, you sit frozen at your desk, watching him retreat with his shoulders slightly slumped, and wonder if you’ve just made the biggest mistake of your life.
—
That night, Reid lies awake, staring at the ceiling of his apartment as your words echo in his mind.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”
The lie is so transparent it hurts. He replays every recent interaction, searching for the moment he might have crossed a line, the moment he lost you.
Did he hover too much? Was he too pushy with his invitations? Did he say something wrong?
The thought that he might have ruined your friendship gnaws at him, an ache that refuses to fade. He tries to focus on the logical, the facts: you said he hadn’t done anything.
But facts don’t explain why the laughter in your eyes has dimmed, why the easy rhythm of your friendship has crumbled into awkward silences and forced smiles.
He doesn’t sleep that night, and by morning, he’s no closer to an answer.
But one thing is clear: he can’t lose you. Not like this.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FOURTY-NINE
It’s late when the team finally returns to Quantico, the exhaustion of a long case settling over everyone like a heavy fog. You’re the first to escape the bullpen, eager to retreat to the quiet sanctuary of your apartment. But just as you grab your coat, a voice stops you.
“Can we talk?”
You turn to find Reid standing behind you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression a mix of worry and determination.
“Reid, I’m really tired—”
“Please.” His voice is soft but insistent, his eyes searching yours. “Just a few minutes.”
You hesitate, your instinct to avoid clashing with the ache in his voice. Finally, you nod, letting your coat drop back onto the rack.
He leads you to one of the empty conference rooms, closing the door behind you with a quiet click. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence stretching taut between you.
“Did I do something to upset you?” he asks finally, his voice trembling slightly. “Because if I did, I—I don’t know what it was. And I need to know, because you’ve been distant, and I—” He falters, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I miss you.”
The raw honesty in his words nearly undoes you. “Reid...” You take a step back, panic rising in your chest. “You didn’t do anything. I’ve just… been busy.”
“Busy?” he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief. He looks up, and the hurt in his eyes is like a punch to the gut. “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?”
You stammer, searching for an excuse, but the words feel hollow even as you speak them. “It’s just... work has been overwhelming, and I haven’t had time, and—”
“Stop,” he says softly, cutting you off.
You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest.
“I know you,” he says, his voice steady now, though there’s an edge of desperation beneath it. “I know when something’s wrong, and something is wrong. You don’t avoid people because you’re ‘busy.’ You don’t avoid me unless there’s a reason.”
You swallow hard, your throat tight. “I’m not avoiding you—”
“Yes, you are,” he says firmly. He takes a step closer, his expression earnest, pleading. “I just... I need to understand. Did I do something to push you away? Did I say something, or—”
“No!” The word bursts out of you, louder than you intended. You see him flinch slightly, and your resolve crumbles. “No, Reid, you didn’t do anything.”
“Then why?” he asks, his voice breaking. “Why are you pulling away from me?”
His hurt expression cuts you to the core, and for a moment, you consider telling him the truth—laying it all out, messy and terrifying as it is. But fear holds you back, the fear of ruining everything, of crossing a line that can never be uncrossed.
“I can’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “I just... I can’t.”
His brow furrows, confusion clouding his features. “Can’t what?”
The question hangs in the air, heavy and unanswerable. You take a shaky breath, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, and what you see there—hurt, confusion, and something deeper, something vulnerable—almost breaks you.
“I’m sorry,” you say softly, the words barely audible. “I’m so sorry.”
And before he can say another word, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the empty room.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-THREE
You don’t even remember the drive to Reid’s apartment. The streets blur past in a haze of headlights and cold January air, your heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.
The weight of your own cowardice has become unbearable. His hurt expression haunts you, replaying over and over, the echo of his words a constant refrain: “Why are you pulling away from me?”
You can’t do this anymore. You can’t keep pretending you’re fine when every moment away from him feels like a slow unraveling.
By the time you reach his door, your nerves are frayed to the breaking point. You hesitate for a moment, your hand poised to knock, before finally forcing yourself to take the leap.
Three short raps echo in the quiet hallway.
The door opens after a moment, and there he is—Spencer Reid, standing in sweatpants and a rumpled t-shirt, his hair slightly disheveled, his expression wary but softening the instant he sees you.
“Hey,” he says, his voice uncertain.
“Hi,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.
His brow furrows slightly. “Is everything okay?”
“No.” The word slips out before you can stop it, raw and unfiltered. You take a shaky breath, clutching the strap of your bag like it might anchor you to the moment. “Can I come in please?”
He steps aside immediately, his concern deepening as he watches you.
Once inside, you pace the small living room, your hands trembling, your mind racing. Reid stands by the door, watching you with a mix of confusion and apprehension, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.
“Okay, you’re scaring me a little,” he says gently. “What’s going on?”
You stop pacing, your back to him, and close your eyes for a moment, gathering every ounce of courage you have. When you turn to face him, the words tumble out in a rush.
“I have been avoiding you,”
He knew that. But hearing you say it tears him up just a little.
“because I’m an idiot,” you continue, your voice trembling. “Because I thought it would be easier to push you away than to deal with the fact that I—” You falter, your throat tightening, but you force yourself to continue.
“I’m in love with you, Reid.”
His eyes widen, his lips parting in surprise, but you keep going, afraid that if you stop now, you’ll lose the nerve to finish.
“And I was scared. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared you’d look at me differently, scared of losing you. So I distanced myself, and it was stupid and selfish, and I’m sorry.” Your voice cracks, and you take a shaky step toward him. “I’m so sorry, Spencer.”
For a moment, the silence is deafening. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares at you with an unreadable expression.
“Say something,” you whisper, your voice breaking. “Please?”
Slowly, almost hesitantly, he takes a step toward you. Then another. And another, until he’s standing so close you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.
“I’ve been in love with you since the day we met,” he says softly, his voice trembling with emotion.
Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he continues, his eyes searching yours. “You’re brilliant and kind and funny, and you make me feel like I’m not... like I’m not so different. I didn’t want to risk losing you, so I kept it to myself, even though it killed me to see you pull away.”
His words hit you like a tidal wave, a rush of relief and disbelief and something achingly tender.
“Spencer...”
He steps closer, his hand lifting to cup your face, his touch impossibly gentle. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he whispers. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Before you can respond, he pulls you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid you might disappear. You bury your face in his shoulder, the familiar scent of him—coffee and faint traces of his shampoo—wrapping around you like a balm.
“I’m sorry,” you murmur against his chest, your voice muffled.
He pulls back just enough to look at you, his hands still resting on your arms. “Don’t be,” he says, his gaze soft and unwavering. “We’ve both been scared. But we don’t have to be anymore.”
You nod, a tear slipping down your cheek, and he brushes it away with his thumb, his touch lingering.
“Does this mean I can invite you to coffee again without you running away?” he asks, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
You laugh, the sound shaky but genuine. “Yeah, yeah that’d be nice—”
His smile widens, and before you can overthink it, you lean in and press your lips to his.
The kiss starts tentative, a soft brush of lips, as if both of you are testing the waters, unsure of what to expect after so long of keeping everything bottled up.
But as the seconds pass, as your heart beats faster and your pulse races with the rush of finally having everything laid bare between you, the kiss deepens.
It’s overwhelming, more than you ever imagined. The gentle pressure of his lips on yours sends waves of warmth through you, and it’s as if everything else—everything you’ve been afraid of, everything that’s kept you distant—melts away in that single, perfect moment.
The tension, the months of pining and longing, spill into the kiss, filling the space between you with everything you’ve been holding back.
You slide your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, and he responds instantly, his hands moving to your waist, holding you tightly as if he’s afraid this moment might slip away. His lips are soft but eager, the kind of kiss that says everything words couldn’t express.
The world outside this room fades into nothingness—the hum of the city, the quiet night air, the noise of your past self-doubt—all of it is gone. It’s just you and him now, tangled up in each other in a way that feels so natural, so right.
You pull back slightly, breathless, and when you look at him, the expression in his eyes is one of pure awe. He’s looking at you like you’re something he’s dreamed of for so long but never thought he’d get to touch.
“You,” he breathes, his voice barely a whisper, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,”
You laugh softly, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss, the electric feeling of his arms around you. “I think I have some idea,” you say, smiling through the haziness of your emotions. “I’m not that oblivious,”
He smiles, a little sheepishly, and presses his forehead to yours. “Yeah, well… I guess we’re both just really good at pretending.”
“Not anymore,” you say, your voice filled with newfound certainty. “No more pretending. No more running. From now on, it’s just... us.”
Reid’s smile widens, and he nods. His hands move to cup your face, the touch tender, reverent. “I promise,” he says softly. “I promise, I won’t let fear get in the way again,”
You nod, your chest swelling with relief. You feel the same. Fear won’t keep you apart any longer.
The transition from being friends to lovers feels seamless, like something that was always meant to happen but only needed the right moment to click into place.
There’s no awkwardness, no second-guessing. It feels like this was the way things were always supposed to be, as if every conversation, every shared laugh, every moment you’d spent together was building toward this.
“You know,” he says quietly, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice, “I think I’m starting to like this ‘not pretending’ thing.”
You chuckle, your heart full, and pull him into another kiss, this one more relaxed, more comfortable. There’s no rush now—just the simple, perfect feeling of being in his arms, of knowing you don’t have to hide anymore.
When you pull away again, you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I love you,” you murmur.
“I love you too,” he replies, his voice a little thick with emotion. “I’ve loved you for so long.”
The words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything you’ve both been through.
And as you stand there in his arms, the world outside his apartment feels like a distant memory, something far away that no longer matters. All that matters is the feeling of being together, of stepping into the future with him, side by side. No more fear. No more distance. Just you and him.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND FIFTY-SIX
Returning to work after that night feels surreal, like stepping into a world that’s familiar but somehow brighter, sharper. Everything feels new, but also so wonderfully right.
The team notices almost immediately. They’re profilers, after all.
It starts with the little things—your hand brushing against Spencer’s as you both reach for the same file, the soft, shared smiles exchanged across the bullpen, the way you instinctively gravitate toward him during team meetings.
Morgan’s eyebrows shoot up the first time he catches Spencer stealing a glance at you, his expression so openly fond it borders on dreamy.
“Something you want to tell us, Pretty Boy?” Morgan teases one morning as Spencer sits at his desk, clearly distracted.
Spencer startles, his ears turning red as he fumbles with his pen. “I—uh, no, nothing.”
From her desk, Garcia narrows her eyes suspiciously, then looks at you, her gaze bouncing between the two of you like she’s connecting the dots. “Wait a second. Are you two—?”
“We’re not talking about this,” you say quickly, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays your attempt at sternness.
“Oh, we will talk about this,” Garcia says, grinning triumphantly. “Just as soon as I gather my emotional support snacks.”
Hotch and Rossi, ever the professionals, don’t comment, but the knowing looks they exchange speak volumes.
So does the HR form that magically appears on your desk the same afternoon.
DAY TWO-HUNDRED AND SIXTY-THREE
A quiet afternoon, as the team prepares for a lull between cases, Spencer walks into the bullpen holding a carefully wrapped package. The sight of him—nervously shifting from foot to foot, his hair slightly mussed, his tie askew—makes your heart ache in the best way.
“Hey,” he says softly, approaching your desk.
“Hey,” you reply, setting aside the file you’ve been working on. “What’s that?”
He holds out the package, his fingers brushing yours as you take it. “It’s for you,” he says, a little shyly. “I’ve had it for a while, but… I was waiting for the right moment,”
Curiosity piqued, you carefully unwrap the package, your breath catching when you see what’s inside: a first-edition copy of a book you’d mentioned offhandedly months ago, a rare find you never thought you’d own.
“Spencer,” you breathe, running your fingers reverently over the worn leather cover. “This is—this is incredible.”
He shrugs, his cheeks flushing pink. “I remembered how much you loved it, and, well… I wanted you to have it,”
You stare at him for a moment, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness of the gesture, by the quiet devotion it represents. Setting the book aside, you rise from your chair and step closer to him.
“Thank you,” you say, your voice soft but filled with emotion.
Before he can respond, you lean in and kiss him, your hands resting gently on his shoulders. It’s not your first kiss, but it feels just as electric, just as full of promise.
When you pull back, his eyes are bright, his smile soft and radiant. “I think I like this ‘new chapter’ we’re in,” he says quietly, his voice tinged with affection.
“Me too,” you reply, your heart swelling as you brush a stray curl from his forehead.
As you return to your desk, the book resting on the corner like a talisman of everything you’ve built together, you steal another glance at him.
He’s already immersed in his work, his brow furrowed in concentration, but when he catches you looking, he smiles—one of those rare, unguarded smiles that makes your chest ache with how much you love him.
This is where I’m supposed to be, you think. And Spencer would agree.
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#mgg#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid angst#criminal minds angst
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Dating the Hazbin Hotel Residents 😈
Tags: GN!Reader, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentioned Mature Topics (ie. Suicidal Thoughts, Alcohol Abuse, SA, etc), Spoilers For The Show, etc.
A/N: Ahhh yes, more brainriot for the pile 😌 I was more of a Helluva gal before the show aired, but now I gotta say these blorbos are a dear part of my heart! Hopefully y'all enjoy these as much as I did writing them!
Consider following my main blog @taruchinator for more solid content & feel free to leave a request here for future HCs~
Charlie 🌈
When the Happy Hotel first opened its doors and all of Hell started making a mockery of it, you were probably the only one who took it as a sign to try and improve from the low life that you were. It's not like you had anything else to live for, anyway.
As soon as you enter the building, you're immediately greeted by the bubbly Princess of Hell herself (along with a reluctant Angel Dust) who is more than happy to show you around and welcomes you with open arms.
You've never been shown this much kindness and sympathy for your situation before, so it naturally takes you aback and makes you wonder what the catch is. Turns out there's none and the Princess is probably the only sweet soul to live in this shithole.
As you grow closer, she asks you to drop the title and just call her Charlie. She also shares a bit about her situation and how her mother wanted to save sinners from the extermination each year, and now Charlie felt like it was her duty to continue this legacy until her dreams came true.
You can't help but feel touched over how much she cares, so you silently vow to yourself to help her in any way you can, just like she's done for you.
It doesn't take long before the two of you grow even closer and feelings begin to blossom, but you decide to ignore them since why would a Princess ever like someone like you?
But Charlie proves you wrong yet again, since one day she comes to you a blushing mess and confesses her own feelings, asking if you'd like to go out with her. You can't help but vocalize your shock since she could do so much better than a random sinner. She deserved better, too.
She looks at you with fondness in her eyes. “You've been by my side for so long and supported me every step of the way. Who wouldn't fall for someone like that?”
And thus, you are the luckiest person in Hell because you scored Charlotte Morningstar, and whoever says otherwise can get a knife to their throat.
She's the perfect definition of a sweet and patient girlfriend, never pushing you to do anything you aren't comfortable with (since you really aren't used to such adoration in a romantic relationship), but as soon as you give her the get-go, she'll be sure to shower you with as much affection as she can until the doubts in your mind disappear completely.
You aren't that far behind either. Albeit not as good as her, you do your best to be a comforting partner whenever she needs you. This is especially necessary after an extermination happens, which always leaves Charlie devastated and in need of a hug or words of encouragement because she doubts herself sometimes and wonders if the hotel is even working at all.
You remind her how it brought the two of you together, to which she smiles and agrees that at least something good has come out of it so far.
Vaggie 🎀
Both you and Vaggie used to work in the same legion under Adam with the rest of his exorcists. You knew of each other's existence, but didn't really talk much aside from whatever was needed in the midst of battle.
The day she spares a demon child's life, you're doing your rounds nearby and witness the whole exchange, including Lute coming over and ripping both an eye and Vaggie's wings for showing mercy. You don't know why, but it makes your blood boil.
“HEY! What are you doing?! It was just a kid, why not let it slide?”
And just like that, you become a target of Lute's rage as well, being ripped from your angelic status along with receiving a few nasty cuts, yet surprisingly not as bad as Vaggie herself.
Once the two of you are left to die, you immediately try to tend the girl's wounds with whatever you can. Vaggie can only stare in disbelief at what you'd done and questions why you even did so in the first place—now you were stuck just like she was.
“Guess I just don't like seeing injustice... Who knew Heaven could be so fuckin' shitty?”
You both laugh at the irony of it all, and that's when luck is finally on your side as Charlie finds you in the dirty alley and brings you back to the hotel to heal properly.
For the next three years you two stay at the Hazbin Hotel, helping Charlie in any way you can to try and make her dream a reality since deep down you hope that despite Heaven's corrupt system, there can be a small chance that souls can be redeemed. You hide the fact that you're ex-Anges though, since you don't wanna cause unnecessary drama.
During this time period, the two of you become better friends, having your own inside jokes regarding things you didn't particularly enjoy from your time as Angels, as well as learning more about one another.
You're the one to come to terms with your feelings first and decide to lay them on the table for Vaggie to see—she's always been a straight-to-the-point kind of gal, so if you're about to be rejected, might as well have it be done quick. But of course, she replies with her own declaration and desire to give a relationship a shot, which you're ecstatic about!
It's a bit hard at first since you never got to see much of romantic relationships in Heaven while training for murder every year, but you try and make it work. Both you and Vaggie work endlessly to try and make the other happy, and it only makes you fall for each other even more.
Also Charlie is your go-to wingwoman who will be there to give you the best advice to try and woo your girlfriend. She ships you two so hard.
Angel Dust 🕸
Working at a porn studio under an Overlord who owns your soul can be exhausting. You know this better than anyone since everyone who works under Valentino has contracts that won't let you get far with a leash. This is especially true with your friend Angel Dust.
You know about the things Valentino does to the spider demon—hell, everyone in the studio probably knows, but know better than to say anything about it. You're always there for Angel after particularly rough shoots, doing your best to comfort him in any way you can, though there isn't much you can do given you're in the same spot.
When he tells you he's moving to Princess Charlie's Hazbin Hotel, you're so happy for him! At least that will give him some distance from Valentino and his disgustingly filthy hands when he's not working.
This unsurprisingly doesn't bode well with the Overlord, causing him to throw fits of rage around the studio when Angel leaves for the day. You can't help but make a snarky comment that you definitely regret moments later.
“Can one blame him for wanting space from such an overbearing asshole?”
Without his favorite stress toy around, you end up paying the price for such comments. The kind of pain and suffering he puts you through is completely different from what you're used to. Is this the stuff he does to Angel? He leaves you naked, bruised and bloody in your room, and all you can do is muster what little strenght you have left to head for the Hazbin Hotel.
As soon as the door opens, you immediately tumble forward and start losing consciousness. The last thing you remember is Angel's horrified expression before it all fades to black.
Once you wake up and have been patched up, you explain what happened at the studio, and you could've sworn you saw fire in Angel's eyes as he holds on to you, fearing you might disappear at any moment. He begs you to stay in the hotel with him, and you agree without hesitation.
And so, your new routine of heading to work and then coming back to the hotel becomes blissful, not having to deal with that lunatic mothman more than necessary. You also get to spend time off with your best friend, which is always a plus.
Well, ‘best friend’ might not be the best way to describe it. You'd developed a crush on the spider demon even before this whole incident occurred, and now that you were spending more time with him, it only continued to grow.
With the line of work you two had, romantic relationships didn't seem to be a thing that crossed anybody's mind since why have a permanent partner when you could just go around fucking the hottest people in Hell? But you knew your feelings were far beyond from sexual, but didn't wanna ruin what you already had going for you.
One heartfelt drunken conversation after work however, makes you do a double take—Angel likes you back. And that both scares and excites you. But with both of you going over the pros and cons with each other, you decide to give it a chance.
You make sure to always have Angel's consent when it comes to physical intimacy—anything from holding his hand, to kissing to just cuddling. He jokes about not being a porcelain doll, but deep down you know he appreciates it.
You're also there for the rough nights, when he comes home wanting nothing more than to die again and let the earth swallow him whole. Words of reassurance are spoken and you can only hold him and let him cry as you vow to do anything in your power to stop this from happening again.
Husker 🍺
As one of the first guests of the hotel, like any wayward sinner, you find yourself in the bar more often than you'd like. Alcohol killed you in the first place, yet not even in the afterlife could you seem to pull yourself from its grasp.
It's a somewhat welcome surprise to find out that the bartender is going through a similar struggle. He still serves you drinks and lends and ear whenever he's not busy, but will occasionally drop the words of wisdom to watch your fill.
Eventually you two find yourselves doing this little back and forth and aid each other when you're in your dark places—Husk won't let you near the bottle if he sees you're about to knock yourself out, meanwhile you're there to look after him when he has one too many drinks and can't take care of himself.
Not to say he isn't a good drinking buddy—you've found out most of the gossip around the hotel thanks to this sneaky little cat demon and there's never a dull moment with him around.
You learn about his deal with Alastor during a particularly bad night, when Husk's had one too many and isn't thinking straight. You don't bring it up, but now have an eye open for whenever the Radio Demon drags your friend away.
Angel's the one who brings up your questionable relationship to the surface.
“So... you two like, fuckin' each other, or what?”
Your entire face goes red, and if it weren't for the dark fur you could swear you see Husk looking the same. He's quick to get rid of Angel's nosy ass, but now the seed has been planted in your brain—do you like Husk that way?
After careful consideration, you come to the conclusion that yes, you do. And it's honestly kinda terrifying considering how relationships don't usually work out in Hell, at least from what you've seen. Besides, even if you did try and confess, there was always the possibility of him not feeling the same and just being embarrassed by Angel's comment.
So in an attempt to make your feelings disappear, you stop frequenting the bar. Who knew the best way to stop drinking habits was trying to avoid spending time with your unrequited crush?
But of course, Husk isn't stupid. He sees the change in your behavior and let's it slide for a while, until he eventually corners you and asks what's wrong. You decide to get it all out of the way and tell him how you feel.
To the embarrassment of both of you, he holds your hand firmly between his and darts his eyes toward the corner of the room. “Next time you should ask before going off assuming things, ya got it?”
And so, your glass may have been empty that day, but your heart had never felt fuller.
Sir Pentious 🐍
You meet Sir Pentious when you sign into the hotel, and your immediate thought is just how can this snake man be so adorkable, it should be illegal.
As you greet the other residents and staff, you're quick to strike a conversation with him, which based on his body language he was not expecting. He starts telling you a bit about his weaponry and other contraptions, and you can't help but be fascinated by it.
You're a bit of a tinkerer yourself, albeit you've only dabbled in small scale projects—nothing compared to the massive canons and aircrafts that Pentious seems to be familiar with.
He acts like a kid opening gifts on Sinmas when he talks to you about his inventions, clearly never having anyone show interest before. Eventually he'll even ask for your input on certain smaller projects he wants to work on to help around the hotel, all to thank Charlie for being so kind to him and giving him a second chance. You're obviously eager to help!
You two start spending so much time together that the egg boys have started calling you ‘Boss #2’, much to Pentious' embarrassment and your amusement.
One afternoon once exercises are done for the day, the snake demon seems much more fidgety than usual as he invites you over to his room to continue working on his security system prototype. He's a blabbering mess once he has you sitting down and your heart just can't help but swell at each little syllable.
“Dearest (y/n)... you've, um, well... you are a huge inspiration for my work! A-And I wouldn't have been able to create any of this... without your help. You are kind, and smart and very talented.... and w-well, um I-”
You gotta silence the man with a kiss otherwise you two would be here all day. He's puddy in your hands and you can only giggle in return. “I really like you too, Pen.”
Everyone is either saying they called it or groaning in annoyance because fucking FINALLY, you two were just dancing around each other like idiots. The egg boys are just so happy to have someone else besides Pentious to be in their lives, and will do their best to look out for you just like with their own boss.
So yeah, prepare yourself for some sickeningly sweet gestures from this guy cause he will go above and beyond to get you what you need/want even if it kills him (again). And you can confidently say that you'd do the same in return.
Alastor 📻
After running in the same circles when you were alive, it's no surprise to you to end up in Hell, although you never would've suspected that you'd find yourself in the same place as him. It was honestly a huge relief not having to go through this all by yourself.
As Alastor exerted his dominance over Hell as the Radio Demon, you were powerful enough to be an Overlord yes, but rather liked keeping it on the down low instead of making a spectacle of yourself (Alastor was the one for theatrics anyway). Because of this, only select few knew of your true power and what you were capable of.
Instead, if there was one thing you were known for, it was being the only soul allowed to be close to the Radio Demon without the risk of death.
Yes, Alastor was a sadistic, cold-blooded and egotistical mastermind, but he wasn't a monster. You knew that better than anyone. Although the reactions he had to other demons treating you like a joke or calling you the ‘Radio Demon's Pet’ were not helping his case.
“ł₣ ɎØɄ V₳ⱠɄɆ ɎØɄⱤ ₴ØɄⱠ, ɎØɄ ₩łⱠⱠ ₩₳Ⱡ₭ ₳₩₳Ɏ Ɽł₲Ⱨ₮ ₦Ø₩ ฿Ɇ₣ØⱤɆ ł Ɽł₱ ł₮ ₳₱₳Ɽ₮ ฿ł₮ ฿Ɏ ฿ł₮...”
“Al, chill. You're gonna make them shit their pants.”
After his seven year absence, you immediately noticed something was wrong with him, and wouldn't stop pestering until he told you the truth—A deal he made and how his soul was now bound to someone much more powerful than he was.
You were obviously mortified and started looking into ways to try and find a loophole to this, but alas the Radio Demon would just give you his signature grin and tell you not to worry about it. It was his battle to face.
But of course you're quick to remind him that you've stuck together through thick and thin even in life, so there was no way you were letting him handle this by himself. You work as a team—always have and always will. You engulf him in a hug.
“We're gonna figure this out, Al. I promise...”
The grin remains, but his eyes widen slightly in surprise. He hesitantly returns the embrace, patting your back and wiping the tears you didn't even know you were shedding.
“There there~ To think such a sweet and innocent soul wound up in a gutter like this. I cannot say I complain as long as I have your delightful company beside me.”
And so when he says he has a plan that involves Princess Charlie Morningstar and her new Happy Hotel, you follow along. Whatever fate has in store for you two, you'll be ready.
Also Charlie is a sweetheart who could do no harm. Knowing Alastor, he'll probably do whatever he can here and there to help around for the cause. You also offer your services as an undercover Overlord, much to everyone's surprise when you reveal your status.
The Radio Demon may have a plan, but something tells you it won't involve bloody murder (unless extremely necessary or if someone really pissed him off).
Like you said—he's not a monster.
Lucifer 🍎
You and Lucifer were good friends at the beginning of Creation. While you were stuck with the tedious task of designing blueprints for the new ‘Human Project’ that headquarters had in store, Lucifer's Seraphim status allowed him to bring creations to life with the flick of a wrist, much to your delight and wonder.
His ideas and pitches for Earth were always so entertaining to listen to, and you would do your best to encourage him to show them to the higher ups to get them approved—His mind was just filled with joy and love and wonder that you'd never seen before.
Which was why it was always so disappointing whenever he'd come back and say that he was shut down and even mocked at. How could Heaven shut down such an imaginative mind in the creation of their biggest project yet?
To say you were devastated when you heard about his fall would be an understatement. You mourned the loss of your friend, knowing that he'd done nothing wrong and thinking it wasn't fair to him to receive such punishment just because he cared for the future of humanity.
Thousands of years later, you overhear the plan for Extermination of Hell kind. You didn't mean to walk by, yet here you were, under the direct eye of the Head Seraphims about to be downcast for something you had no control over—just like Lucifer.
“You're all self-entitled pricks! You think you can do whatever you want just because it doesn't follow what you define as good!”
You get a few good arguments before being cast downwards, leaving you in bad shape in a random alley with no wings and no means of escape. That is of course, until destiny seems to be on your side and Lucifer finds you, completely perplexed to see you here at all.
After getting treated, you tell him about the Extermination so he and Hell can prepare. The conversation of you getting cast down by Heaven gets glossed over, but he can feel the fury building up inside him. You were always doing things by the book—how could they do this to you?
Once the slaughter is over, Lucifer gets a meeting with Heaven and secures protection for both his daughter Charlie and you, to which they begrudgingly agree to keep him outta their hair. You can't help but feel touched by this gesture.
He's also quick to offer you a room to stay in, but you compromise by living in a seperate building from him and Charlie so you aren't a bother even though he says you aren't. In fact, ever since Lilith left, he's had to take care of his young daughter all by himself, so he's more than happy when you offer to help.
It doesn't take long for your feelings to start coming into the surface from all those years ago, and you gotta push them away because he's both married and has a child to look after! Besides, why would the King of Hell ever look in your direction?
Eventually though, he brings up the question with nothing but sweaty palms and a customized rubber ducky that says ‘I love you’ whenever you squeeze it. You blush furiously, but can't help but bring up your concerns, not wanting to replace Lilith in his heart. He looks into your eyes and says that he hasn't been as happy as he is now in the past thousand years.
Cue baby Charlie walking in on everything, and she just smiles and goes innocently. “Daddy! Is (y/n) staying home with us now?”
You two can only chuckle at the cuteness of it and you immediately go to hug her. You couldn't believe that you were blessed with such a wonderful family.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel spoilers#hazbin hotel x reader#charlie morningstar x reader#vaggie x reader#angel dust x reader#alastor x reader#sir pentious x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#husker x reader#husk x reader
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6 AM
After a good night of free drinks at a bar, reader wakes up in a bed that looks nothing like her own. Maybe that mistake isn't so bad after all.
who? Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
category: flangst (my specialty) and suggestive intimacy +18
warnings: mentions of sex, naked, mentions of alcohol and hangover. English is not my first language.
word count: 2.5K
a/n: I stole the title from a song that I almost don't like but it's very this. I also sacrificed myself for the team by getting drunk on Christmas to write this better (it wasn't a good experience, but what am I saying? I'm very committed to my work. Oh and happy almost new year!
Every story has a beginning and how much you wish you could remember the beginning of this.
A ray of sunshine.
That's what woke you up, a ray of sunshine. But not the kind that sneak in through the window and burn your eyes even when they are closed. What woke you up was the warmth of the arm that wrapped around your torso from behind, that kind of sunshine.
You look at the clock and it's damn 6 AM. You didn't expect to start the year so early but there you were.
You relaxed when you feel a warm breath touching your skin. For a moment you felt so fine, until that horrible headache made it difficult to make sense of where you were, but you could remember the ghostly sensations, the pressure against the mattress, his hands running over every corner of your skin and the way the sheets molded with every movement.
You craned your head slightly to get some clues about your surroundings and then the clothes on the floor became visible in your field of vision.
Damn it.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened the night before.
You tried to get out of the grip of the mysterious man you spent the night with, but...
He pulled you towards him again, this time with more force. "Please don't go." He pleaded, but he was still somewhat asleep.
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
You recognized that beautiful voice immediately. It being a random guy was a bad thing but Spencer? that was worse.
A wave of panic and guilt ran through you. Now what the hell were you going to do?
You looked at him sideways, first at his lips, and just looking at them made you remember how they felt on your skin.
That's when a fragment of last night hit you...
"Spence." You whispered in the darkness, you couldn't see him but of course you could feel him.
His big hands on your thighs, his tongue caressing you like a feather and the way his nose brushed your sensitivity complemented how good you felt at that moment.
Were you dizzy from the pleasure or from the alcohol? Maybe both.
Now you understood, you let him cross boundaries that a friend should never cross. But you were too drunk to tell him to stop? No, that was an excuse, because in reality both been drunk, a lot.
You blinked a few times before coming back to the present, your memories were so fragmented at the moment that it was best not to put pressure on your mind.
You let him continue for the pleasure and because he was Spencer. There was no one else on this earth you could trust enough to do something so intimate, so personal.
Spencer looked so calm while was asleep, you didn't even know why but you started counting his eyelashes.
That would have been a perfect morning. But one question kept nagging at your brain. How did you get into his bed?
Very simple, it all happened while everyone was on the jet, returning from a case.
"I just hope there isn't another case. It's New Year's Eve, we should be celebrating and not catching serial killers." Emily said. "I'll ask for a raise." Then she brought the glass of whiskey to her mouth.
"Prentiss, you haven't even been with us that long." Morgan let out a light laugh.
"It's been a tough year." You supported Emily. And it was true, Elle and Gideon left a void that no new face could fill. But luckily Emily was Emily, Rossi was Rossi. Neither of them intended to fill the void they left.
"Yes indeed," Rossi added to the conversation. "Drinks at O'Keefe on me, who's coming?" And there was the monetary contribution, maybe your favorite thing about him?
You, Emily and Morgan were quick to raise your hands.
Hotch laughed lightly. "I'll pass, I want to visit Jack."
You stood up from your seat on the jet to approach Reid. "And you? Come?" You gave him a slight nudge with your shoulder. "Or you have a secret son that I don't know about."
Reid shook his head in amusement before setting his book down on his lap. "I don't know, I'm tired."
"Come on." You gave him puppy dog eyes. "And I'll take you back to your apartment."
"Don't know..." He bit his lower lip.
"Oh come on, who's gonna tell me random facts all night? Morgan?" You insistent.
"I heard you!" Morgan shouted from the other side of the jet.
Reid chuckled. "Of course not, that's my place in your life. Besides, he already has Penelope."
You looked at him with hopeful eyes. "So you're coming?"
He shrugged. "I haven't another choice."
One, two, three. Happy New Year!
By that time you and him were already so drunk. Everything was spinning around and both had laughed at every stupid thing Morgan said, that wasn't a very good sign.
You helped Reid into the taxi, almost falling with him in the process. When you left him in the back seat he looked at you, with a pout.
"You said you were going to take me home!" He spoke very loudly, without meaning to.
"If you want to die then let's go in my car." Your words dragged on.
He shook his head and patted his seat. "I'm not going to let you drive. Come on, get in."
You sighed but finally agreed and got into the taxi with him.
He fell asleep with his head resting on your shoulder, it felt so comforting that you didn't even notice when you fell asleep.
After a few minutes the taxi driver spoke. "We're here."
You opened your eyes suddenly.
"Hey... Are you awake?" Spencer whispered, leaving a soft, brief kiss on your shoulder.
You didn't answer anything, hoping that... Who knows what the hell you were hoping for. A miracle maybe.
Spencer said your name, his tone oddly serious. "Can we skip the part where we pretend we don't sleep together and we can just talk about this?"
He kissed your neck and your hand ran over his exposed torso. "Can we skip the part where we do this and we can go straight to the action?" Alcohol makes the braves.
Reid smiled against your skin. "Anything you want."
He moved away a little just to separate your thighs and settle between them.
Reid placed his hands on either side of your head, you watched him intently waiting for what would come out of his lips.
"I'll stop whenever you want, okay?" Even a little drunk he was a gentleman.
You nodded hurriedly, excited for what would come next.
∗⋅✧⋅∗
His breathing is a mess, your breathing is a mess.
During the act he searched for your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. His hips and yours moved together, like puzzle pieces, only in a constant rhythm, which made the bed creak.
The noise of the mattress, of his mattress, merged with the noises that came from between your lips which came in different forms but had the same effect on him...
You couldn't say for sure that you remembered everything, but from those little fragments you knew that you had never felt so good in your life.
You move under the sheets until you are facing him. But that was a worse idea than you anticipated.
Confronting him after all the images you have of him in your memory feels like someone has just punched the air out of your lungs.
"To begin with, do you remember anything?" He breaks the thick silence, again.
"Fragments." Your voice comes out as a shameful whisper.
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. "Me too..." He whispers too. "But I do remember that you tried to leave me in the morning."
"Oh..."
Really? Was that the only thing that could come out of your mouth?
Reid sighed and closed his eyes for a brief moment that seemed like an eternity. "Listen, I know this might be awkward but please don't go..." A pang ran through your chest as you saw his pleading eyes. "We don't even have to talk about it."
"Okay..." He sigh of relief at your answer.
But as a cruel joke of life someone knocked on the door, ruining the conversation for Spencer and bringing a postponement for you.
Reid sighed before reluctantly unwrapping his arms from you. "I'm sorry. I... I have to go." He said before getting out of bed.
Last night probably, no, definitely last night you saw him to the soul, but still this time you stared at the ceiling until he got dressed in pajama pants and a gray t-shirt.
He left the room leaving you alone on his bed, naked. Wow, that was something unexpected.
You stood there for a few moments, before wondering what the hell you were doing?
You rubbed your face with your hands as many questions collided in your mind, all eager to capture your attention while you didn't even want to think about it.
What does it mean to sleep with Spencer Reid? He was one of your longest friendships and just by letting him spend one night everything is ruined.
He was acting so casual, like waking up with you was something so normal...
But you didn't even know how to name this. Because, after all, what was this?
You got out of bed and immediately searched the floor for your clothes. You found almost all of them at least.
Once dressed and half combed, you decided to leave the room and try to get out of Spencer's apartment.
But it was such a stupid idea considering it wasn't just you and him in the apartment. Even though you thought you were going to get out of this alive when you saw Reid's back turned to the door.
"Who do we have here?" Morgan's voice was enough for Reid to see you and you to see him.
You had been caught red-handed.
Reid frowned. "You were leaving?"
You stammered a bit before deciding to stop embarrassing yourself and close your mouth.
Morgan's gaze traveled from Reid to you and back to you before figuring out what was happening or at least what had happened.
"Wait guys... Both had sex?" Morgan whispered, trying to be discreet, something that was definitely unusual for him, but not the strangest thing today.
You let out a nervous laugh. "We? Of course not!" You rush to say.
Reid's frown deepened. "We don't?" He said with a hint of mockery and another of bitterness.
No one knew what to say for a while, but the only one in trouble was you.
Morgan stood up from the couch. "Yeah... I think I'd better get going."
Spencer didn't say anything, not even when the door closed behind Morgan. He just looked at you with severity, a severity that disguised his vulnerability. How vulnerable he was before you, as if his heart was exposed on a silver platter.
You weren't willing to talk and he felt like he had already said too much, so the silence between you only grew thicker.
Reid snorted. "For the love of god, just say something!" He swallowed. "Say something, whatever. That I'm bad in bed, that what happened was a one night stand, or that you just tried to run away because you're afraid that if you stay you'll have feelings for me." He try with all his might to keep the tears in place.
You shook your head at his first sentences, but perhaps the last was right. "I... Am I hurting you with this?" Maybe it wasn't the best question, but at least you were honest this time.
He looked away, debating what he should or should not say. "Yes... Yes, you're hurting me." Spencer didn't understand how the words managed to slip through the thick lump in his throat.
Guilt and you were never good friends. "Yes, maybe I'm starting to feel something for you beyond a friendship, maybe I already felt it before. I don't know... I'm scared."
Spencer hesitated but finally took a step in front of you. "I'm scared too." He whispered.
You hesitated for a minute but finally put your arms around him. At that moment you just needed the warmth that his arms could give you.
Reid hated how easily he hugged you back, you were close to abandon him...
"I'm sorry." You murmured as you held onto him.
He places a kiss on the top of your head before rubbing your back. "Just don't exclude me from this, let us both figure out together what's going on here, okay?"
"I promise." You tilted your head back to look at him.
"Changing the subject." Spencer looked at you intently, were his eyes always so beautiful? "Did you see my bra? I couldn't find it while I was getting dressed."
"Oh." Spencer nodded and his cheeks quickly turning a pinkish color. "I kicked it under the couch when Morgan knocked on the door.'
Neither he or you remembered how your bra had gotten there. But it happened while the messy make-out session was going on.
Reid broke the kiss and slipped his hand inside your shirt, stopping until he reached the clasp of your bra. "Can I take it off?" He looked at you with pleading eyes.
"Of course." You tilted your head towards him, not willing to leave his lips for long.
He gave you a couple of short kisses while unbuttoning your bra. "I love you." He murmured against your lips.
"I love you too." Your statement came out as a gasp when he pressed his lips against yours more intensely.
Both were drunk when they said such important words, yes, but isn't it said that drunks always tell the truth?
#criminal minds#spencer reid#dr. spencer reid#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x self insert#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x y/n#fanfic#fanfiction#one shot#angst#fluff#flangst#spencer x self insert#spencer reid imagine#spencer x you#spencer x reader#spencer x y/n#agent reid#larfetfanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic
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wanna be nearer ✴︎ mv1
genre: 18+, fuck buddies ahhhaha, smut, porn w/o plot basically...
word count: 3.6k
It seems every time you tell yourself to stop, Max comes back into your life and all sense of resolve crumbles. title from this
auds here… hiii :) req'd by SO MANY PEOPLE i can't even start compiling all the asks hahah but if u asked for this here it is! writing's been tuff for me lately but this was the one thing i could continue daily (weird) also there is a case to be made re: max's hottest pictures being like 1 pixel in resolution... hope u all like it!!!
nsfw warnings under the cut!
18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, some vague sexting/a sex tape being watched, praise/dirty talk central, size kink, unprotected sex, handjob (f receiving), max being a meanie
It’s busy today. You haven’t seen him all day.
To be fair, you weren’t necessarily looking—not at first, anyways. How many days had it been since the last time, now? The one in your hotel room? Almost two weeks, you think. The real answer’s blurry in your head, especially when you count the close calls, but this should be a record for you two at this point. Neither of you acknowledge that the only reason you’ve been so good at staying away from each other is because when you’re not roped into the same media junket, you avoid each other at all costs.
The media pen is full; everybody’s shoulder-to-shoulder because a few other networks bought their way into the space for the Singapore race. Right when your mind settles back into the focus of work, though—
“Here,” he says, his voice rough and tickling your ear. You nearly stumble forward, shocked at how his voice almost vibrates through you, a low trill that ripples top to bottom.
His hand settles at the small of your back, like his verbal confirmation wasn’t enough on its own; it’s big and his thumb rubs softly at the smooth strip of skin in-between your low skirt and your top. “Passing through.”
“Sure,” you say, dry. “Sorry.” You clear your throat and cant backwards into his touch—briefly, before you step forward and allow him to pass fully. Across you, Lissie looks up from her phone and you sense her trying to gauge why you’re so close to Max.
You blink and wait for him to disappear, wondering what you’ll tell her—how, more like. How the conversation even opens. How you’d phrase the truth, which in itself is a horribly grey area. Well, Lis, if you must know, Max and I have casual sex. A lot. It’s actually not very casual. We stopped now, but—yes, Max. That Max, yes.
“What about Max?”
Your eyes snap upward and then to your left, where you can see Max’s figure disappearing into a crowd of engineers. They return to Lissie and you feign confusion to mask panic. “What?”
“You were spacing out and then suddenly said his name.” She presses the tip of her pen onto her chin, humming. She doesn’t look at you and you thank God for it—eye contact would’ve rattled the truth out of you in seconds.
“I…” You shake your head. “I was irritated with—I’ve been irritated with him all morning. It’s. Yeah.”
“Oh,” she says, nodding, looking away for a second but not pausing. “Oh, okay. D’you wanna go over this edit again?”
—
The stale air of his hotel room, alleviated only by the vaguely fragrant linen spray they use when he’s out, is what greets Max when he arrives in the afternoon.The first thing he does—the only task he’d even thought of en route here—after the door clicks shut is pull up his Messages app and type.
Just got to hotel. He tosses his phone onto the bed while he waits, tugs his cap off and rakes reckless fingers through his hair. His new stylist’s got him onto jeans that don’t “look painted on” (you once said, verbatim), but he’d rather die than lounge in denim, so he swaps them out for just his Calvins.
His mind’s lethargic, but even his version of lethargic is high-drive for others—his brain has the silly tendency to work in absolute overdrive. He itches for a drink and orders a Scotch on the telephone. He checks his phone, which is lying facedown still, and as soon as he picks it up it chimes with your reply.
OK, nice. Did u need something?
No, just wanted to let you know. He hits send, then adds another. You’re off @ 8?
Ended early, I’m in the car. He’s in the middle of drafting a response when you send a follow-up.
I thought we agreed no contact unless business
He scoffs out a dry laugh. Despite himself, he reads the text in your voice, his brain completing the image of the bossy tone with crossed arms and a wickedly arched brow. In response he types: Can’t even update a friend nowadays? I am very tired you know.
Rules are rules, he reads. Then, Get some rest.
Yeah. Got a drink.
I said rest, not drink. Even then he can hear the exasperation in your voice.
How was work? I hurt a muscle doing training. That’s why I’m at the hotel early.
Feel better soon, you send. Had some press stuff today. Boring shit
Yeah? I missed you today.
Really?
A lot. He hums and leans backward, lets his head settle into the pillow, the smell of the linen spray consuming his nostrils. He waits for his phone to buzz, vibrate softly on the hard surface of his chest. It does, after a few minutes, after he’s let his eyes shut and let himself rest them for a bit, after the room service comes knocking and gives him the Scotch he’d requested while ago.
He’s back sitting on his bed when it vibrates. He picks it up and reads: How much?
You’re awfully easy to rile up. He smiles around the rim of his glass—he knows exactly where this is heading.
So much I think I’ll watch some videos of us.
The only caveat of casual sex as two people who essentially dislike each other is the fact that it’s all under wraps—which means if you two try to sneak off together, or are even caught in the same vicinity, people raise suspicions. And that means there are weeks where you barely get to fuck.
And that means you both grow antsy for it. He makes fun of you for being needy, when you’re tipsy and palming at the denim of his jeans or when you bend over when you know he’s looking. But the truth is he grows needy for it, too, craves you like you’re all that matters—he gets extra handsy, drops another innuendo when he knows you’re listening. There is a case to be made that he’s worse, in fact, because fans sometimes skirt around his words and wonder why he sounds so flirty when you’re the reporter in the room.
It was difficult but eventually he found a minor workaround: sometimes he films the two of you. There’s none of those propping his phone up kind of stuff, he just fishes for it in the middle of fucking you so he can store it for himself. It’s locked on his phone and he only has a few (the few has grown in number lately), but God it gives him release when he needs it and you’re not there.
I’ll call you when I’m at the lobby, comes the response. It’s always futile, the attempts to stay away from each other.
He pulls up the folder and lets his eyes skate over the thumbnails, squeezes himself through his boxers. Fuck. He can’t seem to decide what he wants to watch—the ones of you sucking him off, the ones of his fingers stretching you out. He recalls the whine in your voice in each of them, the pleads that escaped you for him to fuck you harder.
So Max, for the life of him, can’t even count how many times these videos have made him cum. But there’s one he hasn’t seen yet—the one he took the night before you two parted. You’d become extra needy on this night, preceding the season, he supposes, the separation. You already were anticipating the deprivation, starved for him more than usual. He’d have kissed you pretty, given you one orgasm after another and still you’d want more. And on this night it was you who asked him to film, you who wanted all of them on tape, so you’d both have something to tide you over until he got to fuck you again.
He pulls his cock out and strokes over it. And with his other hand, he presses his thumb on that video.
In it he’s fucking you in the dark, keeping the phone’s flashlight on your pussy as he sinks his cock into you. When he pulls back out the light reflects on the slick coating his dick, makes it glisten. It looks so wet, sounds so wet, with each thrust into you. He remembers just how it feels; he imagines that he’s back in your bed, fucking you again; that his fist is your pussy, and the spit lubricating it is the wetness that’s drooling out of you on camera.
He can see how tight you are—the way your pussy grips the shaft each time he pulls his cock out, greedy for him. Just like you.
The two of you were supposed to be quiet, too. You were at a hotel, your room beside another driver’s; you were supposed to be careful not to stir anyone. But your moans are louder than he remembers; so is the way you say, breathily, between gasps, Right there, Maxie, m’so close. Max inhales through his teeth, his cock throbbing at that—that Maxie, the cute little whimper out your mouth.
He strokes himself faster, watches the way your fingers slip into frame to rub at your clit, his thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier. He can see, hear—feel how wet you are, the sound of your cunt growing wetter with every thrust. He hears his own voice again, mutter out So good for me, yeah? And your babbled affirmation in response.
You cum hard, your slick getting everything wet and shiny and Max watches himself cum next. His dick’s already spurting when he pulls out and lets himself release on your lower stomach, some of it shooting onto your tits. He blinks, anchors himself back, quickens his wrist and digs his heels into the bed to keep himself from coming. Just a second longer. He knows what comes next and he needs to see it.
Like clockwork, he watches two of your fingers swipe through his cum, bringing them up to your lips. You blink up at the camera and smile. Quit it, your lips mouth, pink and cum-slick. Put it down, Maxie… fill me up again. He releases in weak spurts over his fist, a damp, flushed grunt escaping him as he does. He feels like the air’s been knocked out of him.
His phone rings and he presses it to his ear. “Hey, angel. Come on up.”
One week later
“Vodka,” you say to the bellboy when you get to the elevator. “To my hotel room. Very cold. Please. And thank you.”
The guy scurries off to fetch it for you, and five minutes and one elevator ride later, you're wrestling himself into your room, flexing your sore foot. Japan does hotel rooms well. The leather of your Manolo digs into your foot the way it does after you’ve walked the entire day and you can feel a blister forming on the back of your right heel but it doesn’t really matter, you guess, if you’re already home. Hotel-home, anyway.
You expect to find solace lounging on your bed, waiting out the hours to your morning briefing for the race and throw back a glass or two of vodka.
Instead, you find Max on your couch. He’s sipping ice-cold vodka—your ice-cold vodka.
“Hey, pretty,” he says. “Good vodka. I got staff to wire my FIFA on the TV.”
You just stare. “My TV. What,” you say, your eyes spotting the bottle of frosty vodka by his glass, “are you doing here?”
“I hadn’t seen you all day and I wanted to,” he explains simply. “Do you want food or something?”
“Food? I—nevermind,” you shrug. You’re frozen by the door, only just warmed now from the cold air that bit at your bare legs. “Max, how long have you been here?”
“Since Will Buxton started the post-FP debrief,” he huffs. He fiddles with the remote in his grip and extends it to the TV, where FIFA comes to life. “Aw, come on, angel. I know, I know. No sex and all that. I just like your company, you know?”
“Please. Go fuck yourself,” you scoff, toeing off your shoes and wiping your hands on the fabric of your skirt. He says one thing but you expect another—it’s only natural, given all the other times one of you had failed to keep a similar promise. But still you walk yourself beside him, fix the strap of your short dress, and allow him to pour you a drink.
“You know what I’ve been thinking about lately?” He asks absently. “About how you’re always having these talks with me about… about not having sex anymore, but you never even last two days.” He raises you the glass. “What is it, relapsing?”
“Fuck you,” you mutter. “It’s only because you keep trying to get me all hot and bothered.” You recall each time: in Monaco, in Madrid, in France. “Maybe if you got off my back once in a while, we’d be back to normal.”
He shrugs. “You just don’t have strong resolve.”
“Excuse me?” You scoff, irritation scratching at your throat.
“Wanna test that out? Come play.”
Your eyes flit over to the bright screen, all exhaustion cleared from your system. An animated Kylian Mbappe kicks a football in a loop. “Fine. One round and you’re out of my room.” He throws his hands up in surrender and you make a move to sit next to him. Max puts his hands out towards you then, nodding. You mistake it for some handshake, accept them, and then he’s wrangle you onto his lap facing outward. You feel your pulse at your throat as he pulls you tight against him.
“This is cheating,” you say, your voice dry.
“You got it wrong. Teaching.”
He moves his fingers atop yours, explaining what to press, what goes where, what to do for this or that. He can smell your perfume, hear your stilted breaths, and when he peeks over your shoulder he can see where your dress falls loose, showing the lace of your bra and your tits underneath them.
If he had it his way, he’d hike your dress up and have you ride him. But he’s given you a challenge.
You play a practice round and end up scoring a few goals, fingers making quick work of the buttons. Behind you, Max watches, content, answering your questions when you ask them hurriedly—how do I do this? That? Did I just score?
You score once, then twice, then three times, and before you know it you’re scoring in quick succession. The game is fun—it’s easy. If Max was trying to give you a hard time, he failed. You grow determined, competitive within seconds (something he really should’ve anticipated), and you’re scoring goals with skill that you’d confidently say rivals Max’s.
Max. You almost—almost forget he’s there, and then you sit up straighter and you’re hit with the sensation of his dick pressing into your ass. You inhale sharply and the controller clatters to the floor.
“You okay, pretty?” His hand comes up to rest on your knee, inching closer and closer with every hitch of your breath. Your hand, now free of the controller, seizes his, stopping it right at the middle of your thigh.
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah? You look stressed.” He doesn’t move. “You were so close, too, weren’t you?” The score stares you right in the face: 4-5. “Maybe you just need to get your mind off it.” It’s so bullshit, so extremely obvious, but he’s right in your ear and his hand is so near where you’ve missed its presence.
You’re usually competitive. You can usually hold your ground. But with this and him—
“Maybe,” you breathe, loosening your grip. He spreads his legs, spreading yours in the process, and brings his hand closer, running slender fingers over the lace material of your underwear until you’re squirming. It grows damper the more he touches, your mouth hanging open with stunted whimpers.
“You always come back to me, schatz, don’t you,” he says, whispers against your ear. You wrench a moan out. “Remember the first time? You interviewed me in Abu Dhabi… you teased me the whole day and begged to come thrice in my room. The time in Monaco you touched yourself to me when I was in the next room. The time we almost hooked up in Miami…” He groans, to himself more than you. “You’re a dirty girl.” He’s curling two fingers inside of you now, grazing against the sweet spot pulls the most delicious moans out of your innocent mouth.
“Every time… you go, that was the last time.” While your mind recaps the memories he’s busy spelling into your ear, Max’s fingers are curling inside of you against that sweet spot just right, and your moans are getting louder and louder.
“Fuck,” he huffs, watching your flushed face get more and more euphoric.
“Aw, pretty, look at that,” Max laughs. He’s looking at your thighs, watching the way they tense and shake as his fingers stroke your g spot. Each pump and curl into your twitching pussy feels better and better, and your dripping walls are starting to clench around his fingers.
“Wait, I—I can’t,” you pant, lolling your head onto his shoulder and involuntarily bucking your hips upward.
“Yeah you can,” he orders. “It’s so easy to get you to cum, isn’t it? Or is that just for me? The driver you hate the most?” He laughs. “Get all wet for the guy you couldn’t care less about. Say you hate me and get my dick nice and wet the next day.” You’re grinding onto his three fingers now, shameless with it.
“Are you gonna cum?” He asks.
“Oh,” you whine. “Yeah, fuck—yes.”
“Tell me what you’re gonna do,” he says wickedly. You can hear him smile.
“I’m gonna—please—I’m gonna cum,” you pant, tension coming to a halt and then bursting all at once out of you. His other arm holds your hips down against him, and you spend a minute and another twitching, your skin sticky with sweat and slick.
It’s not long before you’re whirled back to face him, your hands making quick work of his jeans. It’s a skill you’ve both mastered, the art of the quickie—in closets, hotel rooms, with sweaty, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the column of your throat, moans swallowed.
He hikes your dress up and your panties to the side, immediately bullies his cock into you—the glide is slow, but easy. You’re so fucking wet.
“Fucking big,” you gasp out. “Jesus, Jesus—fuck.” Your head drops and presses against his; he uses the opportunity to kiss you. You moan into it, feeling the stretch, your slick wetness dragging down the length of him as he thrusts up, up, further. “Been a while.”
“Feel good, though, yeah?” Your toes curl and you nod; you’re flushed all over and you need him to hurry up. You grind downward, onto him. He does, then, fucks you hard and fast, like he’s thirsted for this for way longer than he did. You’re squirming, all wet, and it tempts him to go harder. Your face is shiny with sweat, lips drawn in between your teeth.
“Slo—slow down,” you manage, babbling; he doesn’t, speeding up his thrusts until you’re moaning his name. “Max—wait—fuck, you’re so mean,” you whine, wrapping your arms around him and letting him take control.
“You’re fine,” he grunts, pulling out almost all the way. “You take my dick so well, schatz, every fucking time. Don’t you?”
“I do,” you gasp out, and he’s slamming into you gain. You cry out loudly, sniffling from the overstimulation—you’d barely recovered from your initial orgasm and already you’re hurtling into what feels like three at the same time.
“For someone who doesn’t like me,” he sneers, “you sure do moan like a slut, huh?”
His words get you more turned on than you’re willing to admit, but you shake your head.
“No?” He laughs, breathy from the effort. “Maybe I should film you now. Send it to your boss, let him see his stellar reporter’s getting Verstappen’s dick wet.”
Finally, the tension building inside of you reaches a head, and your pussy starts to twitch around his dick. He notices, grunts sharply and leans forward, shuddering as he releases into you. Your moans are choked and tapering into whimpers as you release slick all over him, and you attempt to catch your breath, collapsing onto his still-clothed, now-sticky chest. You scratch at the dri-fit material and inhale him, the smell of his cologne, his sweat. You bite at his earlobe, laugh when he flinches.
“That,” you say into his skin, “was the last time.” It’s both seriously and as a joke, playing off of what he’d remarked earlier.
“Jesus, princess. I’m still inside you.”
You giggle and drum lightly along the plane of his chest. In a few minutes he’ll pick you up to shower, but now you’re content to inhale him in. Quietly you wonder why you just can’t get enough of him—if you were in better senses, you’d have realized he was thinking the same thing about you.
#f1#max verstappen#max verstappen smut#max verstappen imagines#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x reader#f1 x reader
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could you write something about divorced reader and agatha? them being mothers to a child, both decided to put what happened that lead to the divorce aside and keep communicating to each other as to try and keep a health relationship with their kid. they think their kid deserves to have both mothers present in his or her life.
then one day agatha discovers that reader is planning to go on a date, meaning she's trying to move on with her life. agatha is furious (in the jealous way), they argue a lot, it's very angst, full of emotions, they end up fucking and in the end they talk to each other about trying to restart things to be together again. they know it's not going to be easy but they realize their feelings for each other are still there. thank you!! (if you could angst and nsfw)
Okay this is genuinely one of my favorite things i've ever written so I really hope everyone likes it
Also my first time writing real angst so hopefully it wasn't terrible
Title is from a Taylor Swift song
That's when
Word count: 6100
Warnings: angst, smut, hate sex, fingering, scratching, biting
Going to be a few minutes late to pick-up today, got caught up at work.
The text from your ex-wife makes you chuckle humorlessly. Of course she did.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” You look up from your phone at the four year old bundle of joy you and Agatha shared.
You give him a smile. “Nothing, Nicky. Mommy’s just going to be a little late today.” He shrugs and goes back to playing with his toys.
You can’t stop the twinge of bitterness growing in your chest as you give a thumbs to the message, not even giving her a dignified response.
Was it stupid to think that anything would change?
When you and Agatha had first gotten married, you saw forever with her. She made you happier than you had ever been, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do for you. She always knew how to make you laugh and feel loved, and she was such an amazing partner.
Plus the sex was mind blowing. She made you feel things you didn’t even know it was possible to feel. The older woman knew exactly what you needed all the time and it was like your body had been made for her.
A year into the marriage, you both decided you wanted to have a child. Agatha carried the baby, using a donation from a sperm center, and then Nicholas was born.
The moment you first saw Agatha holding him in the hospital room, your heart exploded with all the love in the world. You had kissed Agatha’s sweaty lips and told her that you loved her and Nicky more than life itself and that nothing was ever going to change that. She had told you that everything she’d ever wanted was right here in this room.
And for the first few years, things were really good.
Agatha went back to work after her maternity leave ended, so you stayed home with Nicky. Some days were harder than others, but Agatha always made sure to come home as soon as possible to give you a break. She would cook dinner for everyone and after Nicky went to bed, she would hold you on the couch and the two of you would just soak each other in.
But then, after Nicky had turned three, something started to change. He was in his toddler phase, so being home with him all day started to take a toll on you. Agatha would come home and find you absolutely exhausted, but at that point, she was moving up higher on the corporate ladder, so she was tired too. It felt like a distance had grown between you, and you didn’t know what was happening.
She started to stay late at work, the need to become a partner at her law firm becoming all-consuming.
You still remember the first time it happened, the first time you tucked in Nicky alone, his big, sad, brown eyes looking up at you and asking why Mommy didn’t want to come home and see him.
Your heart had clenched and you had to blink back tears before telling him that she was just busy at work and would come in and kiss him goodnight when she was able to.
That had been the first fight of many about it with your wife.
You had told her that she wasn’t putting her family first. She had told you that you weren’t giving her enough credit for everything she was doing for you and Nicky. You had told her that all you wanted was for her to be here to tuck your child in. She had told you that you weren’t being fair or understanding about her job.
Agatha had slept on the couch that night and was gone before you woke up the next morning.
Deep down, you could tell it was going to be the beginning of the end if something didn’t change.
So you tried to. You tried to control your anger whenever she was late, you tried to make the best of it for you and Nicky. Bedtimes became a special thing for the two of you, when you would read him a story and kiss his forehead and then slip out once he drifted off to sleep.
He stopped asking where Agatha was entirely.
Occasionally a tense comment would escape from you when she got home an hour or two later and it would turn into an argument.
That arrangement went on for almost a year, but fights were getting more common between the two of you. She made you feel crazy for being upset, which in turn, only made you more upset.
One time, you told her that she needed to make more of an effort or else and she had scoffed. You had seen red and gotten in her face and you were almost yelling when she shoved you against the wall and shut you up by furiously kissing you. Her fingers had slipped down into your pants and she fucked you for the first time in months.
You didn’t know hate sex could be so hot.
After that, things seemed to be getting better and you thought that maybe the two of you had just needed to blow off steam. Your sex life certainly seemed to be back on track.
And then it was Nicky’s fourth birthday.
Agatha and you had planned a big party and invited all the kids from his daycare to your house for pizza, cake, and a bounce house. It was the first time in a while that you actually felt like your marriage was on steady ground, like you were on the same page again.
You remember smiling at her in the kitchen while hanging streamers and thinking that everything was going to be okay, because you loved her and more importantly, she loved you.
But then she got a phone call and your heart dropped when she left the room to take it.
When she came back in five minutes later, a pained expression on her face, you felt nauseous. Of course.
“It’s just going to be a short thing,” she had promised, and you had begged her not to go. It was Nicky’s birthday, he needed both of his moms and it was her day off. You told her that if she left, you didn’t think you could ever forgive her.
She left anyway, vowing to be back within an hour.
You weren’t even upset this time. You were just numb.
The party went by in a blur and it didn’t even feel like you were present in your body. The only thing you remember was finding Nicky sitting under the table while all his friends ran around the yard and crouching down to ask him what was wrong.
And he had looked up at you, bottom lip quivering, and told you that the only thing he wanted for his birthday was for Mommy to not have to work so much so that the three of you could be together again.
You had to turn your head and bite onto your finger so you wouldn’t cry in front of him, barely holding it together while you consoled him and promised that Agatha would be back soon.
Except an hour passed, and she wasn’t back yet.
The party ended another hour after that and she still wasn’t home.
After you had rocked a sobbing Nicky to sleep that night, you had gone downstairs, poured yourself a generous glass of wine, and sat by the fireplace, waiting for Agatha.
And finally, at a quarter until ten, the front door swung open. Your wife crept in, gently setting her keys down so as to not cause a disturbance, and then turned to go upstairs.
“You said an hour,” you said in a shockingly calm voice, startling her, making her freeze. She launched into an excuse about getting a new case and it was a really big one and she couldn’t get away, but you had cut her off and told her that you didn’t want to hear it. Thus started your biggest fight yet.
You called her selfish and told her that she was being a bad mother to her child, she told you that you couldn’t possibly understand what it was like for her because you didn’t have a job. You had argued that it shouldn’t matter, that she needed to sort out her priorities, and she said that you needed to stop nagging and accept that she was an integral part of her company now.
“You’re also an integral part of this family,” you had snapped. “Nicky needs both his moms. He was crying today because you weren’t there, Agatha. He said all he wanted was for you to work less. You need to fix this.”
She had just stared at you like she didn’t understand what you were saying. “I’m so close to having everything I want. Just give me a few more months.” That was like a stab in the heart.
“A few more months until what? Until you become a partner and have to work even more?” Tears were streaming down your face in the flicker of the fire. “Since when is this not everything you want? Since when are me and Nicky not enough?” Your voice had broken at the end but you didn’t care.
A hint of pain appeared on her face but she had hardened. “I have to do this. You can either stand by my decision or not.”
To this day, you don’t even remember squeezing the wine glass so hard that it shattered, but the next thing you knew, there was a sharp pain in your palm. You had looked down to see shards embedded in your skin, but the blood made you eerily calm. The wound was almost a wake-up call, a physical manifestation of what she was doing to your family.
You met her eyes again. “I’m not going to stand by it. I’m done, Agatha. I’m not going to put Nicky or myself through this torture anymore.”
You could tell that she wasn’t expecting it; she opened her mouth to say something but you had breezed by her to go upstairs, feeling lighter than you had in awhile.
You had called a lawyer the next day. A small part of you kept hoping that she would promise to do better and beg to work it out. You would’ve called it off in a heartbeat.
But she didn’t.
The divorce was simple, for the most part. You had both agreed that you wanted it to be painless for Nicky so you decided that you would be civil and put your problems aside for his sake. He deserved to have both his mothers in his life, and the two of you were going to make that happen as cordially as possible.
Nicky took the news about as well as any four year old would, but you both assured him that you loved him very much and that this wasn’t a bad thing.
Things were awkward at first, especially Sundays at six when she would pick him up from you and vice versa. You didn’t know how to talk to the woman you swore you’d die with anymore, but four months in now, it’s gotten easier.
There’s light conversation now, maybe even some casual joking. But it always ends the same way: a terse smile, a kiss on Nicky’s cheek, and then a strained wave before the door closes.
You miss her, though. The way she smelled when you cuddled with her, the way her lips felt tracing your skin, the way she would laugh at some stupid joke you made.
You try to ignore the pang in your heart whenever Nicky talks about her. It’s honestly been good for their relationship, now she has to make time for him because she doesn’t have you to depend on.
If only she could’ve done that four months ago.
And yet, it seems like she’s still putting work first, if being late today is any indication.
“Mommy says we’re gonna go to the park tomorrow!” Nicky squeals, jolting you out of your acrimonious thoughts.
You look back at your son. “Oh, yeah? That will be a lot of fun, won’t it?”
He nods. “She’s gonna push me on the swings! I went so high last time I almost touched space. It was so cool.”
“Wow, Nicky!” You exclaim, laughing despite yourself. “You better be careful though. I’d miss you too much if you went to space.”
He frowns, deep in thought. “I’d miss you and Mommy. Maybe you could both come!” His face brightens like he just told you a million-dollar idea.
“Whatever you want, baby,” you say softly, leaning over to tousle his hair, and the doorbell rings. Every time she does that instead of just walking in, it feels strange. This used to be the home you two shared. You give Nicky a tight smile. “Go get your stuff.” He runs up to his room and you go answer the door. Agatha looks as good as ever and you swallow hard. You knew the whole thing was going to be tough, but you didn’t think being so close to her but somehow so far away at the same time would be the worst part.
“Sorry I’m late,” your ex-wife says, sounding genuinely apologetic. You shrug, not wanting to start anything.
“Don’t worry about it. Nicky’s just grabbing his stuff.” Except it’s taking longer than you thought, so the two of you are just stuck standing there, trying to avoid eye contact. Some pick-ups are better than others.
“Um, so how are things? How have you been?” Agatha asks.
“Oh, yeah, good. You know, starting to look for a job just to have something to do. Maybe down at the community center,” you tell her. She nods interestedly.
“That would be good, yeah,” she says. She’s clearly racking her brain for more small talk to make.
“And you?” You ask before the silence gets too much to bear again.
She looks at you like she’s trying to figure out what to say. Her work has become sort of a sore subject to talk about, especially now. “I actually just made partner,” she says finally.
“Oh, wow, congratulations.” It sounds hollow even to your ears. “So, um–” You start a sentence before knowing where it’s going, but thankfully, Nicky runs downstairs at that very moment.
“Hi Mommy!” He cries out, sprinting over and almost knocking the wind out of her when he barrels into her with a hug. She takes a step back when she absorbs the hit and you instinctively reach a hand out to grab onto her to keep her balanced.
Her eyes meet yours, a jolt running through you when you realize this is the first time in four months that you’ve actually touched her.
You yank your hand back before you get too carried away in your thoughts.
“There’s my little prince,” Agatha says, ruffling his hair, still looking at you. “Did you have a good week?”
He lifts his head to peer up at her and she finally breaks away from your stare. “It was fun! Jack let me have some of his chips.” You chuckle, remembering the day he had come home from daycare and happily told you that he had made a new friend. Agatha quizzically glances at you and you shake your head fondly.
“Wow, well I can’t wait to hear all about it,” she says, matching his energy, and you feel your throat pinch. Despite everything, Agatha was a great mom when she was around. “Alright, are you ready to go? I’m thinking we can get pizza for dinner?”
“Yes!” Nicky pumps his fist and lets go of her to throw his arms around you. “Bye, Mama. I’ll see you next week.”
You lean down and kiss his cheek. “Have a great week, okay, baby?” He nods, eyes sparkling like they always do.
You stand back up and Agatha gives you a smile before leading Nicky back to her car. Watching them drive away tugs at your stomach like it always does, and when you can no longer see them, you go back inside to the empty house.
Grief rolls over you in waves sometimes when you’re alone, and this is one of those times. It’s like you’re being pulled under the surface if you think too hard about what it used to be like before things started getting bad.
This home used to be full of love and warmth and happiness.
Now it’s a cold, vacant shell of memories. Even the silence feels too loud as you walk to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of wine.
You drink a lot more when Nicky is with Agatha, and you find yourself wondering if she’s as affected as you are.
Doubt it, you snort. She’s probably living her best life on her off-week, when she can come home at whatever time she wants and doesn’t have a nagging wife to answer to.
You settle on the couch, glass in hand, and scroll through your phone. You down it quickly, and then another, and you decide to keep going. It doesn’t take long at all before you’re absolutely hammered.
Fuck Agatha. Fuck her for choosing her job over you and Nicky. Fuck her for tearing your family apart. You would’ve been so happy with her. You wanted to spend the rest of your life with her.
And now, what? You’re just supposed to start over? With some random woman? Supposed to go on first dates again, and talk about your favorite color, while the person who you loved the most and knew everything about you ripped out your heart?
Fuck Agatha.
And then you get a genius idea. Maybe you should date. It could be meaningless, just a way for some company, maybe even sex.
You’ve been waiting, hoping, for Agatha to change her mind. But she’s a partner at her firm now.
She’s made her choice.
Giggling out loud to yourself, you download Tinder and set up a profile. You scroll through your camera roll and are depressed when there’s mostly only pictures of you and Agatha, you and Nicky, or the three of you together.
So you take some. Selfies have never been your thing, but in your drunken state, you have never been more confident. Some of the pictures you take are soft, some are a bit sexier, some are neutral.
You upload them all, set the location for within five miles, and get to swiping.
At first, it feels wrong, like you’re cheating on Agatha. When you get nervous, you still find yourself fiddling with the spot where her ring used to be, because it used to bring you comfort. The imprint she has on your soul will forever be there, you think.
But it’s done.
You steel your nerves and keep going, but no one is catching your eye. You frown, disgruntled, until finally you get to an attractive woman.
Rio. 41. Loves nature and witchy things.
You click through her pictures and are intrigued. You have a thing for brunettes, and her brown eyes are pretty pools of honey with a knowing look in them. There’s something intense about her, but you can’t ignore how hot she is.
Before you can think twice, you swipe right and your stomach lurches when it says you have a match.
Heart racing, you tap on the message icon, staring at the page. Do you make the first move or wait?
The alcohol decides for you.
Hey. You hit send and immediately inwardly kick yourself. What a stupid thing to say.
You turn off your phone and pinch the bridge of your nose until it buzzes in your lap. You look down and find that Rio replied.
Nice pictures.
You squint and click back to your profile, and attempt to really study them with a clear head. Turns out, all of them are blurry and it’s incredibly hard to make out any distinct features. You raise your phone again to take a new one and this time, you make sure that it’s clear before sending it straight to her with the message: Sorrrry i’m drung
It’s wrong, but you don’t care enough to correct it.
Wow, doll. I’m glad you posted the blurry ones because you are too hot for anyone else to see.
A blush spreads through your cheeks. It’s the first time you’ve been flirted with in ages. Feeling emboldened, you send a flirty text back.
You keep talking for hours, until as you’re dozing off, she texts and asks you if you want to get dinner tomorrow night.
The question is like a bucket of cold water being thrown on you and you start to panic. Thoughts of Agatha swirl in your mind, meeting her in a cafe, your first date, the first time she touched you, her proposing, her on your wedding day, her and Nicky in the hospital the day he was born –
– her working late, making Nicky cry, making you tuck in your child alone and explaining that of course Mommy still loves him and she’s just really busy, making you wait up to see her, breaking your heart a million times over again because she refused to change.
You exhale slowly.
I’d love to. You type back, and you turn off your phone before you can second guess yourself.
You fall asleep on the couch, phone still in hand, a war being waged in your heart.
The next morning, you’re awoken by your phone buzzing. You groan and hold it up in front of your face to find Agatha calling you.
“Hello?” You say groggily, rubbing your head.
You can tell she’s in the car by the loud sounds. Probably on her way to work. You roll your eyes, and then feel guilty. “Hey, Nicky realized that he left his pair of flip flops at yours and I was going to take him to the pool tomorrow. Can I come stop by this afternoon and pick them up?”
You raise an eyebrow. “The pool on a Tuesday?” Who is this woman, and what has she done with your ex-wife?
“I know, I know,” Agatha chuckles and it’s nice to hear her laugh. “I took off the afternoon because he’s been wanting to go swimming. Thought it would be a nice surprise.”
You try to ignore the effort she’s putting in now versus when you were married. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll be here pretty much all day. Just text first.” You don’t mention the date with Rio, you don’t even wait for her to respond before hanging up.
Trying to push Agatha and Rio out of your mind, you go take a shower to wash the smell of alcohol off you, and then run some errands. Grocery shopping is always easier when it’s your off-week but you still find yourself reaching for Froot Loops and Dinosaur nuggets.
It’s about four in the afternoon when Agatha texts you that she’s on her way. You’re in denial about why you make sure your hair looks nice or you put on a bit of makeup, but it’s the first time you and Agatha have been alone since the divorce.
Not that that has any correlation.
And then the doorbell rings and your palms start to sweat.
You swing the door open to find her leaned against the pillar outside, wearing a suit that has your chest squeezing. It’s your favorite, the maroon one that hugs her curves perfectly and the one she’s fucked you in more times than you can count.
Agatha doesn’t wait for you to invite her, just walks in and up the stairs to Nicky’s room. You chase after her.
“I’m surprised you’re not working right now,” you say, and she gives you a warning look.
“I’m a partner now,” she answers, rummaging through Nicky’s closet to find his shoes. “I can delegate the busy work to others in the office.”
You hum and reach around her to pull his flip-flops off a shelf and hold them up to her. You organized his room, you know where everything is.
“Thanks,” she says, taking them, standing up, and awkwardly waiting for you to move first.
You glance around the room to see if there’s anything else he would need for swimming. “Does he have his swim suit?”
“I have a few pairs for him,” she replies, watching you carefully. You tuck your hair behind your ear, another nervous habit.
“Well, guess he should be all set then.” You clap your hands together and she smiles sadly and walks out of the room. She pauses in the hallway next to your room, the room you used to share, and your breath catches, but she keeps moving toward the stairwell.
“Do you, uh,” Agatha starts, turning around when she gets to the kitchen. You freeze. “Maybe want to have a drink or dinner or do something tonight? Nicky has a playdate with one of his friends, so it’ll just be me. Figured we could both use the company.”
“I actually have plans,” you say carefully. Part of you wants to cancel with Rio, but you know you shouldn’t. This could be good for you.
Agatha raises an eyebrow. “Working late?” She jokes, although it doesn’t land how she wants it and you both know it.
“I have a date.”
And it’s like all the air has been sucked out of the room. You see the exact moment Agatha’s face changes, becomes darker almost.
“What?” She growls. “With who?”
You chew on your lip until she asks again. “I went on Tinder last night.” You don’t offer more than that, but her lip curls and you can tell that she’s angry.
“So now you’re just whoring yourself out online?” She spits and your blood boils. “You were going to, what, bring some slut to the house my child sleeps in?”
“He’s not here this week, Agatha,” you remind her and she scoffs like it doesn’t matter. “You haven’t been on a date yet?” Now that’s a surprise to you.
She rolls her eyes. “Of course not. I’m too-“
“Busy? Yeah, tell me about it,” you cut her off, poison dripping in your tone and she fixes you with a glare, throwing her hands up in the air.
“Don’t even fucking go there,” she warns. “That’s what this is always about with you. I’m so fucking sorry that I was ambitious and wanted more.” The sarcasm hits you like a brick and you grit your teeth.
“It was about more than that and you know it,” you snarl. “You constantly neglected Nicky and I, you put everything else above us. You weren’t there for your own son’s birthday party, so fucking sue me for going on a date. We’re divorced, I can do whatever the fuck I want. At least she won’t completely ignore me.”
It’s the wrong thing to say and you know it the second it leaves your mouth. She explodes. “Ignore you? I didn’t ignore you, do you even hear yourself? I tried to be there for you, I really did, and now you’re just throwing that away. I was doing the best I could, I was under so much stress with my job and then a toddler, I was fucking drowning.”
“Why didn’t you talk to me then?” You cry out, digging your nails into your palms. “You could’ve told me how you were struggling instead of just fighting with me! And I’m not throwing it away now, Aggie, you were the one who did that when you gave me that ultimatum.” You can hear her breath suck in when you call her that nickname and tears prick your eyes. How did you two get here?
“I didn’t think you would just give up,” she says, voice strangled, and a weight comes crashing down on you.
“What?” You whisper, and for the first time, you can see that the older woman is affected too, hurting.
She wipes her eyes and sniffs. “I didn’t think you would just walk away like you did. I thought you’d say that we could work it out, like you always do.”
And then you get it. That night, she wanted you to cave again. She thought you would give in and let her get away with it. Like you always did. “Stop,” you say coldly and she looks at you with surprise. “You don’t get to manipulate me anymore and turn this on me. I tried so hard to fix this and to be okay with it, but you were never going to change. Except now you have, for Nicky. So what, was I just not worth it?”
“Do you know how many times I wish I had changed? I should have listened, I’m sorry,” she says, and you wish you could believe it.
“It doesn’t matter now. I’m going on this date and you should go,” you snap. You start to walk out of the kitchen and to the front door when her hand shoots out and grabs your wrist. You move your arm, trying to get free, but she yanks you back against her, your chest colliding with hers.
You lose the ability to breathe and you try to avoid looking at her lips as she walks you backwards until you hit the wall.
“Tell me you don’t still think about me,” she hisses into your ear. “Tell me you don’t miss the way I made you moan louder than anyone else ever has. Tell me you don’t miss the way I fuck you.”
Your nose twitches in anger and you lean in closer to her. “I don’t,” you glower, even though it’s not the truth at all. She knows it too. Her grip on your arm tightens.
“Really?” Her voice is slippery smooth now, dropping an octave to the tone that always made your stomach heat up. “When you’re alone in this big house, you don’t think about my fingers or my mouth or my cock, fucking you the way only I can?”
You shiver, body betraying you. But you hold your ground and deny it again.
Her other hand comes up and pulls your hair, forcing your head to the side, and she puts her face next to your ear. “You forget, baby, I know what it looks like when you lie.” Her tongue licks your earlobe and you bite back a moan.
It’s been so long, too long, since you’ve been touched. You’d have this reaction if it was anyone else, you tell yourself.
“Do you really think that Tinder slut can fuck you right? Let me tell you a secret,” she says dangerously, one hand sliding down your body and stopping at the waistband of your shorts, giving you ample time to stop her. You don’t and she smirks, knowing she’s won. “She can’t. Only I can.”
Her fingers dip inside and cup you over your underwear and your mind goes blank.
“You’re telling me that you don’t think about me while you’re this wet? You’re an even worse liar than I remember,” she taunts, but you don’t care.
You need this too bad.
“Shut up and fuck me,” you bark, moving your hips over her hand, trying to get any kind of stimulation you can. She doesn’t give you what you want.
“Tell me the truth,” she coos.
You’re so angry right now, but you also haven’t felt this alive in four months, so you drag her in for a bruising kiss. Her teeth clash against yours and she practically shoves her tongue down your throat and roughly bites your lower lip. You moan into her mouth and rip your arm free out of her grasp so you can scramble to get her suit jacket off.
Figures this would be happening while she’s wearing that.
You claw at her bare shoulders, making sure to rake your nails across her skin and she hisses with pain, so you do it again. She trails her lips down and sinks her teeth in hard to the juncture between your shoulder and neck. You yelp but it quickly turns into a moan when she moves your underwear to the side and shoves two fingers inside your waiting cunt.
Agatha’s head drops back as your eyes roll in your head. “Fuck, baby girl, I’ve missed this,” she sighs and you pull her to you urgently for another kiss, needing to make up for lost time.
It’s like nothing changed at all, and yet everything has, when she sets the same familiar fast pace from all those times before.
“She’s not gonna know what you need,” Agatha pants against your lips, thumb roughly swiping at your clit, pulling frantic gasps from your mouth. “Only I do. God, I’ve missed your cunt. Say it.”
“I’ve missed your fingers,” you finally give in and groan.
She thrusts them particularly hard and it has you clenching around her, biting onto her shoulder.
“And?” She urges.
“I’ve missed you,” you whimper, and she rewards you with a twist of her digits that has you groaning.
“Good girl,” she moans. “I’ve missed you, too.” Her admission sounds choked, and it makes the fire only burn brighter in your stomach.
And you want more. “Tell me you think about me,” you beg, and she raises an eyebrow, stopping her thrusts to fit a third finger into you. She curls them and you whine.
“I fucking think about you all the time,” she says like it pains her. “I miss you so fucking much.” Your breaths are intermingling with how close you are and you lift a leg up so she can get in deeper.
“I think about you too and I fucking hate it,” you snarl witheringly and she just chuckles and scissors her fingers inside you, effectively cutting your words off for a second. “You’re always on my mind and I can’t get you out of it.”
You’re getting closer and you know she can tell by the way your walls are fluttering around her.
“Tell me you still want me,” she orders and you keen, hands grappling around her to pull her even closer if it’s possible. You’ve missed her so much, the way she feels against you. Everything feels right again.
You’re clenching, getting tenser, and you know you’re about to cum. But she slows her movements and you think you could cry.
“Tell me the truth and I’ll keep going,” she says, voice getting softer. Tears form in your eyes and you know that you’re about to change anything.
You press your lips to hers and then pull back. “I still want you, Aggie, I still fucking love you so much.”
And her eyes get a feral look in them that you’ve rarely seen, even when she gets most possessive.
“Say it again,” she demands, voice low, as she starts fucking you roughly again.
“I love you, I still love you,” you practically sob and she kisses you harder than she ever has.
“I still love you too,” she says into your open mouth, and you cum all over her fingers.
She gently thrusts into you while you come down from one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had.
“I should’ve made more time for you and Nicky,” Agatha says softly. “I’m sorry, baby. I went too far and I wasn’t listening but I promise, I want to do better this time. Please, just give me another chance.”
This is the first time you’ve ever believed her. You’ve already seen what she’s doing when she has Nicky. And to be honest, you don’t think you’ll ever stop loving her.
“Are you sure?” You ask, just needing to be certain. “We have a lot to work on.”
She nods. “I know, baby girl. But I love you and these last four months have been hell. I know it won’t be easy but I want to make this work. For you and for Nicky.”
Overwhelmed, you pull her in for a long hug, finally admitting to yourself how much you need her. It felt like there was a piece missing from you, and you just got it back.
“Okay,” you say and you feel her smile against your cheek. “Let’s do it.”
She kisses you so sweetly it reminds you of your wedding day and then breaks it to laugh happily.
“So what now?” You ask.
She smirks. “I think you have a date to cancel.”
#agatha harkness x fem!reader#agatha harkness x reader#agatha x reader#agatha x you#agatha harkness x you#agatha harkness smut#agatha smut#agatha all along
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Hi angle. Sweetie I read that your request were open? 👀 Would you mind if I asked for perhaps a Lucerys x littlesister!reader ? Something with like Luke being a yandere and little sister reader not realising it and just being all wrapped around his fingers cause he's her older brother that she just admire and love so much? And she just cockwarm him and let him fuck her all the time ? 👀
(If you don't feel comfortable writing it I understand completely!!)
˚⟡˖ ࣪✩₊˚.⋆ Naive Girl ˚⟡˖ ࣪✩₊˚.⋆
╰┈➤ Yan!Lucerys Velaryon x Sis!Reader
✦ ──────── ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ──────── ✦
╰┈➤ Warnings: cockwarming, yandere behavior, naive!reader, smut, Inc3st, jace joining In because I can’t help it.
╰┈➤ Words: 0.9k
╰┈➤ I couldn’t restrain myself from added jace- apologies.
“It’s what I’m supposed to do,” those words always slipping from his lips.
It’s been years since Luke has been straight forward with what he wanted, from hand holding and kissing to using you like his own personal toy. You’re the definition of beauty to him, in every way imaginable. Kind natured, gentle and soft and most importantly innocent and naive. There’s nothing that turns him on more then seeing your eyes plead up at him, glossy with tears and a trusting gaze.
He’s only recently started to fuck you— He snapped once he couldn’t wait to touch himself. You’d be in your room with him one night, reading to yourself while he’s by your side and playing with strands of hair below your shoulders. Then on thing led to another and your on top of his lap, thin silky dress wrinkled up to expose your bare skin so he can trace his hands over.
“Luke,” you whispered against his lips. Your body started to stir around to find something — you didn’t know what it was. Inside you felt odd, hot and sweaty with a tightening grip in your low range. “I feel weird.” you admitted
Luke is there to teach you everything your mother tried to hide from you, her only daughter wasn’t to be corrupted by the world. Or, so she thought. Of course he did his job as to explain what was happening and gave you a opportunity to leave but you were too needy to figure out how to stop the growing pain.
“You like this?” his teeth nipped at your ear while you rested against his chest. Back facing him, legs spread apart while your dress was tossed somewhere on the floor. “Tell me how it feels.” He demanded. Thicker fingers entered your pussy making you sound wet and squishy, you’re practically leaking onto the sheets and your own thighs. Luke was a nice guy, so he started off slow for you.
You started to whine while keeping a hand clasped over your mouth. He told you this was only for him and you to share, what every brother and sister do but can’t let others see. It wasn’t wrong, no, the gods wanted you to do it. “Good, s’good.” The words hanged on your tongue sweet and honeyed while moans kept pouring out.
That’s how it started, him fingering you when you’d give him those cute puppy eyes. He just couldn’t resist so he did it everywhere— anywhere. In the halls away from prying eyes of course, fucking you with his fingers or eating you out; messy and sloppy. The thing about Luke is that he loves your taste and can’t get enough.
He has you doing everything under the sun together, even visiting brothals to get new ideas. He once threatened a woman to cut off her hands if she touched him.
“Sit still,” he cursed when he felt you shift onto his lap, your dress up in the back but kept down in the front to make it look like nothing was happening. He was studying the history of his title and wanted you to keep him company, and what better way then to sit on his cock like a good girl and stay still?
“Sorry, can’t help it,” it was pathetic how small you sounded. You never could say no, always wanted to please him for his pleasure and yours. It was your job to take care of him and make sure he stays happy and healthy!! Because if you didn’t, he could start to hurt with all his cum staying inside…Luke had told you a horrible story of what could happen if you didn’t give yourself to him.
“Be a good sister and stay still,” you tried not to whine but you couldn’t help it, there was only so much you could take. He felt how tight you clinger to his cock, how warm and heated your insides were, how fucking soaked you are. It was torture for him, as well as you as he held himself back from fucking you into the table.
Until he caved, wrapping his arms around your waist and leaning you further back into him and began to thrush into your warm heat. It was a library and it was easy to get caught if you were being too loud. Your big brother wanted to get caught deep inside you, he wanted everyone to know that you’re going to be his bride one day.
That only his cock can make you cum.
It was no guard that caught the sight. No maester, not a servant or a maid, not even another lord. But a familiar man with dark curls and pale skin, one that matched Luke’s. His hand rested upon his sword and lips on a smirk when you caught his gaze.
You tried to tell Luke to stop but he just turned his head, no interest in stopping. “Leave us, brother. Can’t you see I’m busy.” Jace didn’t care for being told to leave.
So he walked closer until he was at your side, right next to the chair and laid his hands on your chin. His hold tight and forceful, yanking you to look up at him, with those sweet teary eyes. “Didn’t know you could be filthy, let him fuck you with no engagement.” Luke huffed in question as you moan and bounce with each thrust.
“If I had know you like getting fucked by your brothers cock, i would have been quicker to join.” His hand took ahold of yours before placing it on the tent of his pants were the hardened member poked out.
Jace looked over at his younger brother, “mind I have a turn?”
¡!Don’t repost my posts on other websites, don’t translate them, theses are for me to publish on my own!!
#house of the dragon x reader#Lucerys Velaryon x reader#yandere Lucerys Velaryon x reader#house of the dragon smut#jacaerys velaryon x reader#smut#Lucerys Velaryon smut#‧₊˚✧.*ˋ°‧₊ Angel Writes
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OK Guys. I get the skepticism esp after the Knuckles disaster, but we also need to keep in mind "this is a trailer that won't spoil literally everything about the movie." ESPECIALLY in regards to GUN. They're not gonna put in the trailer "the military shot a little girl and that's why Shadow is mad so Sonic is going to never work with them ever." That's a great way to get parents to bring their kids to the theater, especially in America. (/s)
It's WAY more effective as a plot twist halfway through, where Sonic thinks that he's finally being accepted onto Earth via working with the government only to find out that they're exploiting him and Shadow the same. I can't guarantee this is gonna happen obviously but it's like a 90% chance just knowing how, like. writing works.
Esp considering the government has not had a good track record in the last two movies, I dunno if they'd do a heel-face turn into "actually they were always right" in the movie where a little girl needs to get shot by the government.
And I'm not gonna say "trust and form a parasocial relationship with a film director" but we should keep in mind that Jeff Fowler got his start working on Shadow's title game and has stated in interviews that he understands how important Shadow's backstory is to his character. Not to mention how the internet has been exploding the last two years with enthusiasm over this story actually getting shown onscreen, enough that a studio would fucking notice at the very least that this is what the people want. I can't guarantee they'll actually listen, but saying that they're absolutely not because "Sonic was in a GUN helicopter in the trailer" is insane. Especially with the fact that GUN is not with Sonic when he goes to Eggman. We just see Team Sonic alone meeting with Stone, and I will bet you it's because there's no way in hell GUN would let them near him, what with the Robotnik connections to the ARK.
Also the Gerald thing is rather worrying, esp with the lack of shit they gave Pachacamac in the miniseries, but honestly I think that was just a marketing push of "Jim Carrey will be playing TWO characters!!!" Considering he's only seen in one trailer scene AT the ARK (where all of Gerald's technology was and, more importantly, where the Eclipse cannon he needs someone to set off is) AND we know from movie 2's credits scene that there was a fifty-year timeskip, I severely doubt that's the real Gerald who's just completely unaffected by his granddaughter being murdered.
And ofc there's things to be concerned about in the trailer. The lack of Rouge for instance– I obviously keep posting my theory that Krysten Ritter's character will be her undercover but the fact we don't know how much time she'd actually have with Shadow, if at ALL, is worrying. The fact that Rouge might not be here period. The weird pacing of the Knuckles show and the fear that could bleed over into the movie. But there's also stuff to get excited about– the epic fight scene choreography, the brief glimpse we got of Maria and Shadow's bond. Reeves's voice actually fits Shadow and at least from what the trailer showed us it looks like the Green Hills storyline is taking a backseat to the action and mystery of Project Shadow.
tl;dr guys calm down for like five minutes. if the movie sucks in december we can riot then. right now let's just band together against mufasa
#sonic movie 3#sonic the hedgehog 3#sonic 3#sonic cinematic universe#sonic the hedgehog#scu#sth#shadow the hedgehog#mine
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A Little Longer
Summary: Frankie promises to give you what you ask for... but only if you can play by the rules of his game
Word Count: 2.4K
Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)
Warnings: SMUT (18+), this is literally porn with no plot WHOOPS, cockwarming, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), cum eating, breeding kink (just really wanting to cum inside- no implications of wanting to get pregnant but use your imagination if you so choose because you know I will🙂 edging, overstimulation (if u squint), praise kink, size kink, feral Frankie, but also sweet soft baby boy Frankie 😭🥺
A/N: Ovulation demons are at it again!!! 🤠 Idk what to tell y'all, this came to me (quite literally whoops) and I couldn't rest until my thots were written down! I know Joel won the voting poll for this one, but honestly it just screams Frankie 😩 Everyone clap for Madeline as she writes something that isn't an explicit pregnancy breeding kink!!!!
Frankie was never the type of guy to spend his Sundays glued to the TV, watching whatever NFL game was on just for the sake of staying up to date on the sports world.
So when you found him in the living room, lounged and sprawled out across your couch with football on in the background, you were sure that now was just as good of a time as any to suggest you spend the rest of your lazy afternoon in a much more enjoyable way for the both of you.
"How much longer until the game is done?" You cooed, crawling into Frankie's lap, straddling your legs across his hips and tracing your fingers up and down the worn cotton of his t-shirt.
"'Bout halfway. Why?" Frankie smirked, the half hard bulge growing in his sweatpants revealing he knew damn well why you had asked.
"Because, I have a game I'd rather play that's much better than football." You teased, leaning down to trail soft kisses along his neck and jaw, subtly grinding your hips down into his.
"Yeah? and what game would that be, quierda?" Frankie's smirk only grew wider, lust pooling in the warmth of his brown eyes as his hands roamed to grope your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp.
"My favorite game. The game where you put your dick inside me."
The two of you couldn't help but giggle despite the palpable tension brewing between you, a desperate and hungry need filling the air as Frankie's grip tightened, feeling you sink your weight over the full blown erection tenting his pants.
"That is a good game," Frankie chuckled, looking up at you with a concentrated furrow in his brow, seeing the gears turn in his mind as his eyes locked with yours. "I'll play. But-"
"But what, Frankie?" You asked, titling your head in confusion at his pause.
"But... We get to play by my rules."
At this point, Frankie's subtle smirk had shifted to a full blown devilish grin, leaving you wondering what kind of ideas he had managed to concoct in regards to your proposal.
"And what rules would those be, Franke?" You mewled, playing along as you traced your fingers along the edge of his waistband, tugging it down just enough to expose the happy trail running down the lower half of his stomach.
"I'll put my dick in you... But I'm not fucking you until the game is done."
You froze in your tracks, the unsure scrunch of your face acting as a silent ask to figure out if Frankie was being serious or not. The sudden shift in the tone of his voice now humming deep in his chest with a hungry desire, made it very clear that his suggestion was more than sure.
"If you want me to fuck you, rules are that you keep me inside you until the game is finished. But you can't move, can't touch yourself, and can't cum 'till I say."
You could already feel the slick starting to pool in the cotton of your underwear from anticipation and excitement, heart pulsing in your chest and cunt at the prospects of Frankie's idea. Because if there was one think Frankie knew about you, it was that you'd never turn down a challenge. And more importantly, you hated losing. So who would you be to deny him a chance to challenge him at his own game?
"You're on, Morales."
It had started off easy- sweet, even- Frankie spooning behind you, gently sliding his cock into your pussy, ass resting against his hips as your bodies melded together, snuggling on the couch.
He had even eased you into it, taking the first part of the 3rd quarter after half time had finished to stretch you out slowly, starting with just the tip notching between your folds and into your heat, sinking himself deeper inside you every few minutes to let you adjust to his size.
Even with how worked up you were, with half of Frankie's length now resting inside you, your confidence in making it another quarter and a half still abiding by Frankie's rules didn't seem too far out of reach.
But then again, you weren't expecting Frankie to play dirty, either.
Suddenly, Frankie was foregoing his subtle pace, trailing hot, wet kisses along your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, filling you to the brim as his tip nestled against your cervix. A pathetic whimper escaped from your parted lips, catching your breath while your pussy pulsed around his length, feeling Frankie's smug grin pressed against your shoulder between his kisses.
"Oh f-fuck, Frankie!" You moaned, the sweet sting of his stretch already making your eyes roll to the back of your head, trying with everything in you to keep yourself composed.
"There ya go, princesa. Tight little pussy always takes me so well, doesn't she?" Frankie cooed almost mockingly, the hot breath of his words dancing against your skin between sucking at your pulse point. "Gotta relax, baby girl. Still have a ways to go before the game's over."
You took a long inhale in, glancing at the game clock in the bottom corner of the TV frame, finding the small box that read "3rd Quarter- 6:37" and doing some quick calculations in your head.
6 minutes left of this quarter and 15 minutes in the next. Plus game breaks and commercials? You could pull yourself together enough to make it through that without falling apart? Can't be that much longer, right?
For the average person watching football, you were right.
But to you, with Frankie's cock buried in your pussy, painstakingly teasing you to the point of near tears, you were convinced that you were watching the longest football game ever played in the history of mankind.
After sinking his full length to your hilt, Frankie had become relentless. It started off just like he had before, the intensity of his teasing amping up little by little with each minute that passed.
It began with the kisses on your neck, slowing trailing up and down your warm skin, whispering sweet praises into your ear. The tickle of the scratchy hairs from his beard making you shiver in delight, wishing it was buried between your legs, scratching the inside of your thighs as he ate you out instead of your neck.
Next, came his hands, palms that were once innocently splayed across your stomach now reaching under your shirt to palm at your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp, fingertips gently rolling your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hard buds with just enough pressure that his other hand was holding your hips firmly in place to keep you from grinding against him and taking any more than he gave you.
If both of those weren't enough, the final straw was when the hand lazily groping at your breasts snaked down your front, finding its way to your clit, puffy and aching from its time spent untouched while Frankie's cock lay stiff and full inside you.
At this point, you were absolutely soaked, every inch of your bottom half drenched in your arousal as you leaked around Frankie's length, the pads of his fingers sliding over your sensitive and slippery bundle of nerves with unspeakable ease. Even though he had barley but any pressure over your clit, just the ghosting of his fingertips was enough to make you sob, desperate to chase your high after what felt like hours of Frankie teasing you with his cock.
"Oh my god, F-frankie, fuck- please, baby. P-please touch me." You begged, pathetically whimpering as his fingers traced through your drenched folds, his strong grip holding your hips in place to keep you from pushing your ass deeper into his hips for some sort of relief.
"Shhhhhh, I know, baby. But you can't cum yet, remember? If I touch you, you gotta be a good girl and follow the rules of the game." Frankie smirked, teasing you as his fingers lazily collected your slick, purposefully circling them everywhere but your clit.
"I won't, I promise, p-please, Frankie. P-please."
Giving into your plea, Frankie dragged his fingers up your cunt, making you cry out as he finally began to rub slow circles against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the mix of temporary relief and painful ache to cum making you clamp down around Frankie's cock, wetness gushing from your core.
It was taking everything in you to fight the urge to collapse, biting down so hard on your lip you were convinced it might bleed as you felt the pleasure begin to build in you. Unfortunately for you, Frankie had spent enough time memorizing every twitch and tug of your body beneath his that he knew your tell tale signs, pulling his fingers away to the sounds of your ragged moans.
"Frankie, n-no, fuck- please, baby. I need more, pleasepleaseplease."
"Fuck, you're so pretty when you beg. I know, quierda, but not yet. There's still 4 minutes left in the game. 4 minutes left and then I'll fuck you. Fuck you with my tounge, my cock, I'll make you cum so many times you won't be able to walk straight. But not until this tight little pussy is so wet and ready for me that she can take everything I have to give."
With the way Frankie's filthy mouth was spewing, he might as well be fucking into you at full force, his words shooting straight to your core, fingers digging into your couch cushions for any sort of relief you could get.
"F-Frankieeeee-" His name was the only thing your mind could comprehend enough to get out, practically panting as the sheen of sweat began to dampen your forehead.
"You're doing so good for me, baby girl. I know you can take it." Frankie praised, scooping his hand under your jaw to turn your face towards him, cradling your cheeks in his grasp to force your lips to his, colliding mouths muffling the moans escaping from you.
You were practically drunk off pleasure at this point, trying your best to fight off a dizzying high as you watched the clock wind down at a painstaking pace, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the clock shift to count down from only one minute left.
"Less than a minute left, Hermosa. Think you can make it?" Frankie cooed, his fingers creeping back down to circle your clit, sending a jolt through your body as he rubbed at the slippery and soaked bundle of nerves.
The best you could do was nod your head, too far gone for any words as your cunt clamped tighter and tighter around him, so wet that you were more than positive you'd be cleaning stains of your puddles of slick out of your couch tomorrow.
Looking back at the TV, you were down to 12 seconds left, the winning team already celebrating their inevitable victory, hoping that it would be enough for Frankie to give in and finally fuck you.
"F-fuck me, Fransisco, please. Please, baby, wanna cum around your cock so bad." You whined at a pathetic pitch, pleading with Frankie to give you what you had been so desperate for.
You could hear the sigh of relief as the game clock finally wound down to :00, sensing an immediate shift in Frankie's demeanor as the game came to a close.
"Oh thank fuck this game is done." Frankie groaned, flipping you over onto your back and caging his body over yours, colliding your mouths in a messy dance of tongues and teeth.
While he may not have said it, Frankie was just as wound up as you, the warm and wet walls of your cunt soaking him for the better part of an hour driving him absolutely feral, using every ounce of self-restraint to keep from accepting defeat at his own game.
"Wanted to fuck you so bad, quierda. Do you know how hard it was not to give into you, baby? Not to hear those pretty moans and not fuck this perfect pussy. You did so good for me, so good that I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Gonna fill you up so full of me, I'll be dripping out of you for days."
Frankie sat back, throwing your legs over the width of his broad shoulders, leaning into you so that your thighs pressed against your stomach, stretching you open even further than you thought you could as he began to punch into you at a punishing pace.
His cock rammed against your g-spot, the sounds wet squelching from his length dragging in and out of your soaking heat, balls slapping against your ass and lewd moans had your living room sounding like it was straight out of a porn scene
"Fuckfuckfuck- Frankie- don't stop, baby. Don't stop." You sobbed, Frankie barley 10 strokes in before you could feel the coil in your belly beginning to tighten, so worked up from waiting for this moment that you were about to cum embarrassingly fast.
"Not gonna stop, hermosa. Lemme feel it, baby. Did so good for me. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel you soak me. Wanna feel you before I fuck myself so deep inside of you."
“Ohmygod- oh Frankie, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”
It only took a few more strokes and the curly hairs at the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit to send you over the edge, your pent up orgasm crashing through you so hard, you were conviced that you were levitating in pure ecstasy. Every inch of your body was trembling with pleasure, gushing around Frankie’s cock as you came, your velvety walls choking his length as he relentlessly continued to fuck into you, ready to chase his own high.
“That’s my good girl. Let go, baby. Cum all over me. Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good.” Frankie groaned, admiring you as you rode out your orgasm, jaw slack and mouth hanging open in a perfect “O”, your glossed over eyes and blissed out expression finding a way to drive him even more wild.
Reaching between your legs, Frankie’s fingers found your clit, making you cry out from how sensitive you still were, barely finished cumming before he was already on his way to doing it again.
“Frankie, it’s too- fuck- too much. Oh my god, shit-“ you sobbed, wrapping your fingers around his biceps, his muscles flexing in your grasp as you tried to brace yourself.
“I know you can take it, Hermosa. Need to give you one more. Please, let me give you one more.”
“I- fuck- I c-can’t.” But despite your half hearted protest, you and Frankie both knew that you were already half way to reaching your high again, coil in your stomach tightening with each punch against your g-spot and rub of his fingers on your throbbing bundle of nerves.
"You can, baby girl, I know you can. Can feel how close you are again- so fucking wet and tight, fuck- Give me one more and I'm gonna fill you so fucking full of me- watch my cum leak out of your tight little pussy 'till I can fuck it back into you again, keep you inside me for days." Frankie moaned, his pace now becoming more frantic and sloppy with each thrust, fighting with everything in him to keep from finishing before you did once more.
The combination of the feral thoughts that Frankie found himself spewing, along with the overwhelming and all consuming pleasure was all you needed to tip you over the edge again, this orgasm even more intense than the last. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, sobbing and crying out Frankie's name like a broken prayer, body practically going limp as pure bliss overtook you.
"Oh shit- Fuck, you're so good to me, quierda. Feels so fucking good. Fuck, I'm gonna cum too- mierda- give you everything I have, gonna-ahhhhh! Fuck!"
Just like that, Frankie was spilling inside you, hips stuttering with one final thrust as he painted your walls with hot, thick ropes of his spend, balls drawing up into his stomach while he milked himself of every last drop he had to give.
Through heavy breaths and gritted teeth, Frankie carefully pulled out his softening cock, sitting back on his heels to watch the mix of your spend begin to drip out of your hole, awestruck but the wet and shiny mess between your thighs, pussy puffy, swollen and leaking with him.
But for just as animalistic as it made Frankie to watch his cum seep out of your spent cunt, there was an even more primitive part of him that need to make sure that you stayed full of him, to mark his territory inside of you.
Shifting to lay on his stomach, Frankie kept your legs slung over his shoulders, pushing your thighs to your chest to spread you open, watching more of his seed dribble out of your pussy. With a satisfied groan rumbling deep in his chest, Frankie stuck out his tongue, swiping it up to collect the warm mixture of your arousal before pushing it back into your heat, gently fucking you with his mouth as you whined and writhed beneath him.
Once he was satisfied with his cum stuffed back inside you, Frankie couldn't help but look up at you with the most satisfied smirk spread across his face, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up to trap your body beneath his, resting his weight on top of you with his head nestled between your breasts, big brown puppy dog eyes staring up at you.
"Are you okay, baby?" He cooed, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. "It wasn't too much, was it?"
"No, it was amazing, Frankie." You smiled, reaching down to run your fingers through the messy curls of his sweat-ridden hair, heart swelling with how quickly Frankie had flipped the switch from assertive to soft and sweet. "We should watch football like that more often."
"Baby, if this is how you wanna watch football, I won't let us miss another fucking game the rest of this season."
Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)
@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine
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#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal fanfiction#frankie catfish morales#francisco catfish morales#francisco morales#francisco morales x reader#francisco morales x you#frankie morales#frankie morales fanfic#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales fluff#frankie morales smut#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x female reader#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales x you#triple frontier fic#triple frontier fanfic#triple frontier fanfiction#frankie morales imagine#pedro pascal character#pedrohub#pedropascal#pedro pascal fanfic#pedro pascal smut#jose pedro balmaceda pascal
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