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yuujispinkhair · 6 months ago

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CollegeBoy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up – Part 2 B

-> Option B: "Let's have a baby!"

You can read Part 1 here.

I decided to write two different versions of Part 2 (both are comforting). Option A: The Reader has an abortion Option B: The Reader decides to have the baby(s).

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff + Smut. 18+. Light angst with a happy end. 7K words. Unplanned pregnancy, Reader decides to have the baby. There's a short moment of worry during the pregnancy, but nothing bad happens. Pregnancy sex, praise, slight lactation kink. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples + benkeibear

The first night after finding out your college sweetheart accidentally knocked you up is a sleepless one for you. You're lying in Sukuna's arms, staring at the wall while your mind whirls, refusing to let you find any rest. You are grateful that Sukuna is here. At first, you had tried weakly to tell him that you wouldn't be mad if he needed some time to himself. But he just huffed and rolled his pretty eyes before pulling his t-shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor before his hands went to his jeans, unbuttoning them and pushing them down while telling you in that low, stern voice,

"You think I am going to leave you alone after this? Absolutely not. Now get your pretty ass into bed, princess. I am staying."

And now he is lying behind you, snoring softly against your neck after he, too, struggled to fall asleep for over an hour. And you can't help but snuggle against Sukuna's warm, muscular body. His presence is reassuring, and his strong body and soft breath on your neck stop you from spiraling, even though you still can't find any rest.

You are busy making a pro and con list in your mind. Could you really make it work if you decide to have the baby? Could you handle going to college and being a mom? Wouldn't an abortion be the more sensible thing to do? On the other hand, would you be ok with the what-ifs haunting you after deciding against the baby? It's the most challenging decision you've ever had to make.

But if you are honest with yourself, your heart already knows what it wants.

The idea of having your own little family with Sukuna makes you smile. The mental image of Sukuna going to class with your little one in a baby carrier won't leave your mind. And you tear up a little when you imagine how sweet a life like that could be.

But you try to give your head a chance, too. It's not hard to find reasons why you shouldn't have a baby at this stage of life. Yet, any argument that speaks against a baby also leads to an excuse as to why it can still work. And after all, you know you won't be alone. Because there is Sukuna. Sukuna, who didn't run when he found out he knocked you up. Sukuna who told you he will support you no matter what you decide. Sukuna, who told you he will make sure you and the baby have it good if you choose to have it.

And now, one of his large hands is resting on your belly, long fingers sprawling possessively and lovingly over it, and it's a touch that fills you with longing. It's a touch that makes you see a future in which you and Sukuna are young parents and live together in domestic bliss.

It's that thought that finally makes you drift off to sleep, too.

"Kuna?"

You gnaw on your lip nervously as you turn around in your boyfriend's arms and look at him, about to tell him your decision. Sleepy maroon eyes meet yours, and a lazy smirk spreads over Sukuna's tattooed face.

"Hmm?"

You always love how soft he looks right after waking up, with his pink hair ruffled and his voice even lower than usual, his gaze unguarded and warm. You reach down to take one of his large hands in yours, holding it with both of your smaller hands as you say the words that will change your and Sukuna's life forever,

"I think I want to have the baby."

It's, at the same time, the most terrifying and most beautiful thing you ever said. You gulp nervously, watching Sukuna's face carefully. He blinks, and the smirk vanishes from his face. Instead, he looks at you with a serious expression in his beautiful maroon eyes. He nods, never breaking eye contact as he says,

"Then we'll be a family from now on."

You still stare at him with wide eyes, clutching his hand tightly, and Sukuna laughs softly, leaning closer to nuzzle his nose against your forehead,

"Hey, don't look so worried, princess. I meant everything I said yesterday. Every word. I won't run. We'll make this work. You and our baby will have it good. I will make sure of that. I love you. I won't leave."

Your heart flutters at the reassurance, and when Sukuna wraps an arm around you, you snuggle against him gratefully, sighing softly as you push your face against his warm, buff chest. You can hear his too-fast heartbeat, which gives away how nervous Sukuna is, too. About the pregnancy and the prospect of being a dad at such a young age. But Sukuna doesn't show it. You know he is being strong for you, so he can be your safe place. It makes you press a tender kiss to one of the tattoos on his naked chest while mumbling a soft, "I love you, too."

You believe Sukuna when he says the two of you can make it work. You have a feeling that with Sukuna by your side, you can do anything.

You get an official pregnancy test done at your doctor's office only two days later, followed by the first ultrasound examination, which you come out of with ringing ears after your doctor beamed at you and congratulated you on a twin pregnancy.

You walk over to Sukuna, who is waiting for you in the waiting room and wordlessly press the ultrasound picture against his chest. You wait a few seconds, barely able to keep silent while Sukuna examines the small picture with narrowed eyes until he finally is like,

"What am I supposed to see here? Wait a moment...why are there two?"

And you burst out laughing, looking at him, unable to stop grinning as the realization settles over Sukuna's face, and the corners of his mouth twitch until he bursts out laughing too,

"I should have known! Of course, I knocked you up with twins!"

There's a certain pride in his voice, and it makes you laugh even more. The first shock of finding out that you will have not only one but two babies to look after is lessened by the humor of it all.

Sukuna brings the picture closer to his face,

"Those little peas are supposed to be my children? Did you see how fucking small they are? Well, little ones, you have a lot of growing to do if you want to be as big and strong as your daddy!"

You chuckle and hug him, overcome with emotions at hearing Sukuna talk like that, already so naturally slipping into the role of the soon-to-be daddy.

"I will probably not be able to move at all with your two huge, heavy babies in my belly. Why do you have to be so big, Kuna?"

Sukuna flashes you a proud grin while wrapping an arm around you and pulling you closer,

"Oh, don't act like you aren't crazily into it. And yeah, us Itadoris are big babies, so you better be prepared."

You open your mouth to whine, but Sukuna places a finger on your lips, smirking at you,

"Stop complaining, princess. You know that you have me. I'll make sure to feed you well when my brats make you hungry. And I'll get you everything you need. We both know that you won't have to lift a single finger."

You know he is right, and he already proves it to you when you get home again, and Sukuna gently pushes you onto the couch, telling you that you have to rest.

"I'm gonna make lunch now, and no, you aren't allowed to help! Be a good girl and just chill."

And so you sit there, with a hand lightly rubbing your belly, the ultrasound picture lying next to you, looking at the TV that is showing some game show. But you don't really register what is happening on the screen because you are too busy getting accustomed to the fact that you are really going to be a mom.

As the weeks pass, a small bump begins to show on your belly, and neither you nor Sukuna can stop touching it and staring at it in fascination. It still feels unreal that there are supposedly really two babies growing inside you. The little pea-sized spots you could see on the first ultrasound didn't look like little humans at all. But the small bulge tells you that there is truly something happening inside your belly.

You have several doctor's appointments, and Sukuna drives you to all of them. He always comes up with you to the waiting room and sits there, holding your hand, a reassuring presence by your side. He always lets you know he is there for you. That he isn't running from the responsibility.

Your doctor informs you that you can bring your partner with you to the next ultrasound so he can see the babies, too, if he wants, and when you tell Sukuna about it, he agrees immediately.

"Of course, I'm coming with you! I need to see what my brats are doing."

It makes your chest feel warm. Sukuna isn't just enduring all of this. He doesn't just play the dad because he feels like he has to. He is truly interested in your little family, which is growing in your belly.

You can tell that Sukuna is nervous on the day of the ultrasound. You catch him patting the pocket of his leather jacket as if to grab his cigarettes, only to let his hand drop again when he remembers that he threw all of his cigarettes away on the day you told him you wanted to have the babies.

It's cute to see your tall, muscular boyfriend with his piercings and intimidating-looking tattoos, sitting in the waiting room, playing nervously with his tongue piercing and grabbing your hand so tightly that it's a bit painful.

He is playing it cool in front of the doctor, though, his usual arrogant smirk perfectly in place. Joking around and oozing confidence. Until the screen fills with the ultrasound images, and Sukuna suddenly becomes completely silent.

The "peas" have grown quite a bit and they actually resemble tiny human beings with small arms and legs. Even though you can't feel it yet, they move around wildly, doing somersaults as if to show their daddy that they are just as athletic as he is.

You turn your head to look at Sukuna, and your heart clenches when you see the thunderstruck expression on his tattooed face. He stares at the screen in awe while his lips tremble ever so slightly.

You reach out to touch his arm, gently caressing his tattooed biceps, and Sukuna looks at you with his maroon eyes glittering suspiciously. Your bad boy who always acts so tough, but here he is fighting tears upon seeing his babies in action for the first time on a flickering ultrasound screen.

It makes tears well up in your eyes, too, your chest filling with almost overwhelming love. And suddenly, everything feels even more real. This is really happening! You are having Sukuna's babies! Sukuna and you will be parents!

And as if he read your mind, Sukuna's low voice is in your ear suddenly, sounding solemn and shocked and in complete awe,

"Those are our little brats."

You can only nod wildly in response as tears glitter in your eyes.

The two (or four) of you leave the doctor's office in a daze. Sukuna's arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, and you feel him pull you closer to his tall body anytime you walk past someone, protecting you from any possible danger. Sukuna even drives much slower than usual. It makes you smile to yourself, filled with love and gratitude for the man by your side.

The man who didn't run, the man who took responsibility, the man who turns to look at you at a red light with his eyes full of love.

Sukuna parks in front of your apartment and sprints to your side of the car to open the door for you and offer you a strong arm. He doesn't leave your side all the way to your apartment, making sure you won't fall on the stairs or slip in the hallway. And you can't help but grin to yourself. It makes your body buzz with excitement, knowing this tall, strong man is so protective over you and the babies that are growing in your belly. His babies.

Somehow, it makes Sukuna even more attractive, even though you never thought he could get any hotter than he already is. It makes you lean against him and smile toothily up at him once you enter your apartment. You put your hands on Sukuna's defined pecs, feeling him up through his thin t-shirt as you get on your tiptoes to kiss him sweetly. Murmuring against his lips,

"You're already such a good daddy."

Sukuna laughs and pulls you closer, smirking his sexy smirk against your lips before he pushes his tongue into your mouth, kissing you thoroughly before he carefully picks you up princess style to carry you to the bedroom and continue what you started.

"Oh my god, what!? I am going to be an uncle?"

You are convinced the whole dorm hears Yuuji's excited scream as he pulls his brother into a bone-crushing hug, and Sukuna's low laughter fills the room.

You smile as you watch the brothers high-fiving each other and grinning like two madmen. Sukuna announced the big news to Yuuji in his usually blunt manner. He pulled you against his side and put one large hand over your belly while smirking at his brother and telling him,

"You'll soon have serious competition for the title of Biggest Itadori Brat. We're pregnant with twins. Two boys, just like you and me."

By now, Yuuji has let go of his brother and comes over to you, smiling from ear to ear and telling you how happy he is for you and Sukuna. There is no sign of disapproval or judgment, only genuine joy. And it makes relief wash over you. You hope that more people will react nicely once your baby bump is big enough so you won't be able to hide your pregnancy anymore.

You once heard someone say that no pregnancy goes by without a big scare.

And you get your scare when you get up one morning to use the toilet only to discover a bloodstain in your panties.

"K... Kuna..."

You say his name instinctively, needing him by your side as the fear makes your pulse race. And Sukuna is by your side in lightspeed, running into the bathroom only wearing his boxer briefs, hair messy and ruffled from sleep, with wide eyes and worry written all over his handsome face.

"What's wrong, baby?"

Your voice trembles when you explain,

"There is... there is blood."

The first tears run down your cheeks as you press a hand over your mouth. You are scared out of your mind. Scared that this means you lost the babies. Scared that something went wrong, and now your happy little family will never be.

You almost scream at the irony. This pregnancy wasn't planned. Not so long ago, you contemplated getting an abortion. But now, the thought of losing your babies makes you spiral!

It's Sukuna's low voice that pulls you out of the panic attack.

"Don't worry too much, princess. It's not a lot of blood, ok? We'll get it checked. But I am sure it's nothing bad. Come here, sweetheart."

He gently pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly while his lips press little soothing kisses to your temple and cheek. So surprisingly soft for a guy with such a bad boy reputation.

You can tell by Sukuna's posture and the tenseness in his muscles that he is worried, too, but he stays strong for you, and that is exactly what you need at that moment. He is your big, strong boyfriend, someone you can lean on and who knows what to do because he always knows everything.

Sukuna is gentle with you. He helps you get dressed and carefully carries you down to his car. He talks to you on the whole drive to the hospital to distract you. He stays by your side when you are told to take a seat in the waiting area, holding your hand the whole time until a nurse picks you up and leads you to an examination room. The last thing you see before turning the corner is Sukuna's soft, reassuring smile, even while his wide gaze gives away how scared he is, too.

Ten minutes later, you return to Sukuna with a relieved smile on your lips. You can see the breath he lets out, the way the tenseness leaves his broad shoulders and the way his hands unclench.

"The babies are fine. They were as active as ever. The doctor said everything is as it should be. The bleeding could have been caused by all kinds of things, but it's nothing bad. I should just try to avoid stress and rest a bit more."

And Sukuna wraps you in his strong arms, hugging you a bit too tightly, clinging to you as you feel him exhale shakily.

"I'm glad the three of you are fine. Promise me you will really rest more."

"Of course I will. I want the babies, too, Kuna. I won't do anything that could put them at risk."

To your surprise, you feel Sukuna tense up again, and then he pulls away just enough to look at you with a scowl on his beautiful face and worry in his eyes,

"I am not just worried about the babies. I am worried about you, too. Always about you. Fuck, I love you. I need you to take good care of yourself. I can't lose you, princess!"

And you almost melt into a puddle right then and there, feeling tears well up in your eyes again, this time because you are so touched, and so relieved, and so in love with the boy in front of you.

"I love you too. Thank you for being there for me, baby."

"Always, princess."

Your belly is constantly growing, and by now, you aren't able to hide your pregnancy anymore. You get several curious glances on campus. Some people approach you directly. Others whisper when you walk past.

But those whispers stop the moment Sukuna joins your side, walking next to you like some bodyguard, one strong, tattooed arm casually thrown over your shoulder. He leans down to kiss your temple while his cat-like maroon eyes watch the people in the hallway, smirking his most dangerous smirk at them, daring them to make a mean comment and suffer the consequences.

Sukuna places one large hand on your swollen belly, sprawling his tattooed fingers possessively over it as he sneers at the group of girls who are known to be the biggest gossips of the whole campus,

"Those babies are mine. You can let everyone know that. And if anyone has a problem with it, they can come to me and say it to my face."

And you can't help but laugh and lift your head proudly, too, grinning from ear to ear, glad that you are dating the campus bad boy and won't have to endure any bullying because you managed to get knocked up by your college sweetheart. No one dares make any snide comments after finding out who the father of your babies is

You're sitting on the couch reading a book when there's a sudden movement in your belly. You gasp and stare at your baby bump.

"Oh my god, Kuna! Come quick!"

Your loud squeal is one of excitement this time, but there is still alarm written all over Sukuna's tattooed face when he hurries into the living room, cooking spoon still in his hand,

"Fuck! What's wrong?"

But you are quick to chase his worry away, meeting him halfway, walking toward him with a broad smile on your face and your hands cupping your swollen belly.

"It's the twins! I can feel them move! Come here so you can feel them, too!"

And Sukuna looks at you with wide eyes, dropping the spoon he was holding and rushing over to you. He stops in front of you, his gaze traveling down to your baby bump.

You laugh and grab his large hands, placing them firmly on your swollen belly. It takes barely a second, and then Sukuna's gaze snaps to yours,

"Our little brats are kicking me!"

You giggle and nod,

"Yeah, it's so cool, right? I just hope they won't get too wild."

And Sukuna grins and looks at you with an amused and super proud sparkle in his maroon eyes,

"Oh, I know they will be wild. Don't get your hopes up, princess. They are strong, just like their daddy. Right, my little gremlins?"

Sukuna's voice is amused but also tender, making your heart feel full. You know that he already loves his little ones. You can hear it in his voice and see it in the soft look on his face.

Sukuna drops to his knees right in front of you, hugging you and resting his head gently against your baby bump, a tender smile on his face.

A display of such pure devotion and love that it makes you tear up a bit. Sukuna grins as he pulls up your shirt, and then he presses two soft lingering kisses onto your swollen belly. You can feel his smile against your skin just a second before you feel another strong kick from one of the twins, or maybe both of them. As if they want to greet their daddy and show him how strong they already are.

Sukuna laughs, putting his hands on your belly again, grinning as he feels his sons move around,

"Hey, listen up, little brats. Daddy is proud of you for being such strong ones, but be nice to your mommy, ok? Don't kick her too much."

You chuckle and put a hand on Sukuna's head, gently petting his pink hair and running your fingers through the silky strands as you smile down at him. You are sure that you must have heart eyes because Sukuna looks so good kneeling before you, hugging you, and kissing your baby bump while talking to his babies in your belly.

Every last sliver of doubt you might have ever had about this pregnancy dissolves at that moment as you watch your man being so loving and cute. So excited about the development of your babies.

He grins up at you, that boyish grin that always gives you butterflies, and you catch yourself thinking that you really hope your little boys will have the same grin one day.

Of course, you heard about pregnancy cravings, but you couldn't imagine how intense that would be. Now you know it.

You're having a lazy evening on the couch, watching TV with Sukuna, when a commercial for a specific yogurt starts playing, and suddenly, it is all you can think about. You need that yogurt! Right now!

You whine about it like some five-year-old, and Sukuna laughs and pulls out his phone, filming you, telling you that he always wants to remember these epic moments of your pregnancy lunacy. And you huff dramatically and roll your eyes at him and hit his biceps playfully while pouting at him,

"But Kuna, please. You want your babies to become big and strong, right? I am sure they need dairy products right now, and that's why I crave that yogurt! It's them! It's your twins! They make me want that yogurt so bad! Please get it for me, baby, will you?"

You bat your lashes at him, and Sukuna grins at you, reaching out to cup your chin and gently press your cheeks together. His grin grows as he slowly leans closer.

"Stop it, princess. You already know full well that I will buy you that fucking yogurt. If my girl wants that yogurt, she will get that yogurt."

He presses a quick kiss to your pouty lips before he gets up from the couch and is on his way to the door. He looks over his broad shoulders, winking at you. And a second later, your boyfriend is already out the door on his mission to get you all the yogurt you crave.

He returns 20 minutes later, carrying a whole pallet of the desired yogurt, walking toward you with a proud expression on his handsome tattooed face.

"See, princess. You have me to get you everything you need. Now give me a kiss, and I will give you a yogurt."

Sukuna grins that beautiful boyish grin at you, his eyes filled with warmth and tenderness, and you laugh and grab his jaw, giving him a loud, wet smack on his tattooed cheek and then a sweet, slow kiss on his lips.

"Thank you, baby. You are the best."

And you feel him smile against your lips as his large hand cups the back of your head to hold you in place so he can kiss you some more before you can pull away to indulge in your newfound yogurt addiction.

You catch Sukuna standing in the twins' room in your new apartment, paintbrush in hand, his naked chest heaving, sweat mingling with the paint stains on his skin next to the tattoos adorning his muscular body. And it's one of the sexiest sights you have ever seen. Your man building a nest for your babies.

Money is tight, so you could only afford an old and rather shabby apartment. But Sukuna is very determined to turn it into a nice home for his little family. He told you that you don't need to hire any professional craftsmen. Sukuna will do it all by himself (and with the help of his brother). He will make sure you and your babies have a clean and pretty place to live in!

And he keeps his word.

Only a short time later, the apartment is ready to move into, and it looks amazing. A cozy little place for you and Sukuna and your little boys.

Living together with Sukuna feels incredibly nice. You have already been spending all your time together ever since you were pregnant, but knowing that you are actually living together now makes things feel different. Sweeter somehow. Domestic. Just like you dreamed it would be.

This is Sukuna's and your place. Your shared home. It is where you will raise your babies, where you will laugh and cry, eat together, make love, and celebrate the twins' birthdays.

Sukuna's favorite part of the apartment is the kitchen. He spends a lot of time in there, cooking and baking for you, claiming that he needs to feed you well so you get all the nutrients you need right now.

He is stern when it comes to your health, watching you with hawk eyes when you eat and shaking his head when you push some food to the side,

"Uh uh. I looked it up, princess. Those are essential during pregnancy. You will eat them."

As annoying as it can be, you can't be mad at Sukuna. He is just trying his best to take good care of you, after all. And in the end, you always hug him and kiss him and tell him he is the sweetest, which makes Sukuna look very pleased while he announces,

"My girl will always have it good with me."

He is right, and you are very happy about it. Sukuna is super protective of you, even more so now that you are pregnant with his babies. He doesn't let you lift a single finger, insisting that you aren't to carry anything heavy and that you shouldn't do the laundry or clean the apartment.

You laugh when you come home from class and find Sukuna and Yuuji deep cleaning the kitchen together, both sweaty and bitching at each other but motivated like hell to get everything shiny and clean.

"Brat, you missed a spot there! Get your lazy ass up and keep scrubbing my fucking sink! This is for your nephews, you little shit! You don't want them to get all kinds of infections, do you?"

"No, of course not! But Kuna! Grandpa never had a clean house, and you and I lived too! You are such an asshole, oh my god!"

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter, feeling bad for Yuuji but also filled with love at seeing Sukuna so aggressively motivated about your domestic life. So eager to prepare everything for the twins.

Sukuna is a good man for you. Tough on the outside but caring on the inside. And you already know that he will be a wonderful father.

Your pregnancy progresses without any complications. But you are not immune to the emotional rollercoaster of the pregnancy hormones raging in your body. You cry more easily, sometimes without even really knowing why. You get anxious over the smallest things. And sometimes, everything is too much, and self-doubts fill your mind.

It's those moments that make you suddenly cry and hug yourself, unable to regulate your emotions, hiccuping from all the tears,

"I can't do this! I have no idea how any of this works! I suck at everything I do! I will be such a terrible mom!"

But Sukuna is there for you each and every time, catching you anytime you fall. He wraps you in his strong arms, comforts you, pulls you against his muscular body, and lets you use his broad chest as your pillow, not caring at all that your tears and snot soak his t-shirt. He strokes your hair soothingly, cuddles you, and talks to you in that low, velvety voice. All soft and sweet, murmuring reassurance to you while he pets your hair,

"Shhh, it's ok, baby. You can do it. You'll be an amazing mommy. And even on the days when you can't do it, there will still be me who can do it for you. I won't let you down, ever. You aren't alone in this, princess. You will always have me."

It makes you cry even more. But the tears turn into tears of joy, affection, and love. Sukuna is your rock. To everyone else, he may seem like a superficial troublemaker who only wants to have fun, but you know a different side of him. The accidental pregnancy showed you that Sukuna is so much more than meets the eye. You know you can always count on your bad boy with the face tattoos and the pink hair. You know he will keep his word.

You snuggle gratefully against him in those moments, crying until you fall asleep on his chest, feeling safe and loved and knowing that when you wake up a few hours later, things will look better again.

You talk to your doctor and schedule a planned c-section after seeing how big the twins are already at this point, making you freak out at the thought of trying a natural birth.

Your doctor laughs and tells you that it's no wonder they are big after seeing their daddy, and somehow, it gives you butterflies and makes you smile like an idiot, even as you nod and agree that, yes, Sukuna is really tall and big.

When you tell Sukuna the news, he is, on the one hand, proud that his brats are growing so healthily and seem to turn out just like him, but on the other hand, he is worried about you.

"I will be with you during the c-section. You better know that, princess."

"Of course, I know that, baby. But I am ok, really. I am not scared of the surgery. I am actually glad I don't have to try pressing those big boys out the natural way!"

You look at Sukuna, and his lips twitch, and then you both burst out laughing at the same time before he pulls you against him and hugs you loosely, careful not to squish your swollen belly too much.

Your baby bump is huge by now. You can't see your feet. You can't bend over. You can't move the way you want to. Your belly is heavy and in the way all the time now, and it's a bit annoying at this point.

But Sukuna always manages to make you feel better about it.

He constantly walks up to you, stands behind you, and reaches around you, cupping your swollen belly with both hands, joking about how it is exactly like the basketball he is used to from practice, only prettier.

And you laugh and complain playfully and turn around in his arms, kissing him while still smiling. And he smirks at you and informs you,

"I told you that you have me to take care of you, princess. Stop whining, and just come to me when you need help. It's really that easy."

He is right.

You tell Sukuna you are having trouble putting on your shoes, and Sukuna is instantly by your side. He makes you sit down again, takes your legs into his hands, puts your shoes on for you, and ties the shoelaces.

He is there when you need to pick up something. He is there to do the laundry for you and carry groceries and even your bag when he walks you to your classes. He is there to remind you that you should lie down and rest. And if you don't listen to him, Sukuna can still easily pick you up and just carry you to the bed or couch.

And as much as you are starting to get annoyed by your baby bump and your heavy breasts and swollen face and legs, Sukuna absolutely loves your pregnant body.

There are moments when you are close to tears and feel insecure about your new body shape, missing the way you used to look before, but Sukuna won't let you talk yourself down. He leaves no doubt about how attracted he is to you.

"Stop it, baby. You are so fucking sexy. You think you don't make my dick hard anymore? I'll show you how wrong you are about that, princess."

He walks up to you, making you gulp hard when you feel him stop behind you, his husky voice in your ear, hot breath on your neck sending shivers down your spine.

He presses his tall body against you while his large hands wander lovingly over your body, cupping your plump breasts, caressing your swollen belly, squeezing your squishy hips and thighs while hot, wet kisses trail up and down your neck and Sukuna rubs his rock-hard erection against your back, letting you feel how hard you still make him.

"If you weren't already round and swollen with my twins, I would fuck a baby into you right this second. But just because I can't knock you up again right now doesn't mean I can't fuck you."

Sukuna is careful to put you in positions that are comfortable for you and won't hurt the babies. And his thrusts are a bit gentler than usual, but his hips still roll against you with that perfect, sexy pace, dicking you down so good that it makes you sob his name and forget all about the insecurities you felt earlier.

You are lying on your side, and Sukuna is spooning you, fucking you from behind with those slow, deep strokes that make your head spin. His strong arms are wrapped tightly around your body, his hands squeezing your breasts, and he growls in your ear when a few droplets of milk already spill from your swollen tits.

You mewl when Sukuna doesn't wipe his hands on the sheets but licks your sticky milk off his fingers, groaning as if it's a sweet treat, telling you how good you taste.

He flicks his thumb over your puffy clit, making you scream with how good and intense everything feels with the pregnancy hormones and the increased blood flow in your body. Forgetting all about the insecurities you felt earlier as you give yourself to Sukuna and let him worship your pregnant body.

One of his hands is holding your swollen belly, while the other is between your thighs, spoiling your pussy with his loving caresses. And all the time, he praises you with that low, sexy voice, telling you how crazy you drive him.

You squeal loudly when your pleasure peaks, and you clench so hard around Sukuna's cock, that you take him with you over the edge, making him groan loudly against your neck while his large hands sprawl over your pregnant belly, holding it firmly as he ruts into you and spills his hot cum into you.

Sukuna is always sweet to you after sex, but even more so now that you are pregnant. You get cleaned, you get cuddled, you get praised, you get offered snacks, which makes you laugh softly and pull Sukuna into a deep kiss, telling him that the only snack you want right now is him.

All of this helps you accept the changes in your body and even appreciate them. Sukuna makes you feel desired and sexy, even when your legs and face are swollen, and your big baby bump makes it impossible for you to move the way you used to.

Sukuna loves your baby bump.

And not just during sex but all the time. He can't keep his hands off it. A large tattooed hand always rests on your swollen belly when you snuggle on the couch together, watching your favorite shows. Or at night, when you lie in bed, and Sukuna hugs you from behind. He even does it in public, proudly showing you and your baby bump off.

It makes you smile, thinking that just a few months ago, you and Sukuna were both freaking out about him accidentally knocking you up, but now you are both so at peace with how things are. Even happy and excited to share this new chapter of your life with each other.

You are standing in the baby room section of Ikea three weeks before your due date, a hand resting gently on your swollen belly, smiling when you feel your babies' occasional kicks.

Their daddy is busy picking out a changing table while looking completely out of place with his black clothes and intimidating-looking tattoos amidst all the white and pastel-colored furniture surrounding him.

He is sticking his tongue out in concentration, his tongue piercing glittering in the artificial light as he takes measurements with a measuring tape to determine which changing table fits better into the kid's room. And your chest fills with warmth as you watch him.

He is so focused, so invested. This is important to him. Your babies are important to him. You are important to him.

Before you even know it, you are standing behind Sukuna and wrap your arms around him, hugging him and snuggling against his broad back, at least as much as your huge baby bump allows.

Sukuna looks over his shoulder with that boyish grin on his tattooed face, looking so good that the sensation of your babies kicking you isn't the only fluttery feeling in your stomach.

"Do you want the blue changing mat or the yellow one, princess?"

You chuckle, unable to stop the broad smile spreading over your face,

"You are so sexy, daddy."

Sukuna's smirk grows bigger, and he lifts one eyebrow,

"You think this is sexy? Just wait until you see me giving our brats the bottle or changing their diapers."

"I'll probably faint from all the sexiness!"

You both start laughing at the same time. And Sukuna turns around to steal a few kisses before he wraps his strong arms around you and tells you about all the sexy dad things he will do when his brats are here.

And you both laugh as you stand there hugging and joking and flirting in the middle of Ikea, feeling as if you are in your own little bubble. And you kind of are, aren't you? This is your little family. Sukuna and you and the babies in your swollen belly.

And you realize that you can't wait for the little ones to finally be here. You can't wait to finally see Sukuna holding them, carrying them around in his tattooed arms, hearing him sing them to sleep with that sexy low voice, and seeing him be the proud daddy that you know he will be.

I WANT THAT SEXY DADDY IN MY LIFE AAAHHH 😭💗 This story became so much longer than I thought, but I just couldn't stop writing. I found so much comfort in this whole series. Our fave bad boy becoming all mature and responsible 💗

I hope you enjoyed Option B and that it could make you smile, too!! Thank you so much for all the sweet comments and tags on Part 1 and Option A. It was such a nice journey with y'all!!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #sukuna fluff #sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk fluff #jjk x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #ryomen sukuna #tw pregnancy

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saetoru · 1 year ago

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours

synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his

— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)

— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!

— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys

satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.

��you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.

“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”

“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.

“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”

“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.

he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”

“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”

“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”

“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”

“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.

“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”

“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”

“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.

even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”

“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.

satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.

he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.

you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.

so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?

and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.

you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.

satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.

he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.

“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”

“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”

“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”

“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.

everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.

“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”

he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”

“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”

“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”

“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”

“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.

you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.

“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.

“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.

“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”

“got it,” you nod furiously.

“got what?”

“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”

“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”

“just what?” he raises a brow.

“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.

he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.

your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.

“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”

“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”

“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”

“say you love me,” he demands.

it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”

and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.

and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.

satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.

“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”

“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”

he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.

it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.

he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.

satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.

when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.

“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”

“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.

“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”

and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.

it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.

and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.

“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”

“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”

“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”

“how long do you plan on being mine?”

“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”

“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”

“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”

“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”

“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.

“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”

dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this

#teepods.writings #thirstee!#rich boy! au #fics.#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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baeshijima · 2 months ago

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— stardust

the world is a vast place. in the grand scheme of things, humans are but a speck of dust; much like how you are sure you are nothing but a meagre speck of dust in the world he lives in, forever to be remained unseen. (if only you knew how you are the brightest star he'd ever laid his eyes upon.)

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 1.5k wc, royalty!au, contract marriage/marriage of convenience, fluff, smitten reca bc what would he be other than smitten, a little hint of bittersweet at the end if read between the lines aha...

A/N : ....i have a paper due monday. i havent started it. why do i do this to myself. (reca i love u can u not hear my cries and wails as fic after fic appears in my brain for u...)

Duke Reca of the northern territory; to many he is a well-accomplished noble, a young genius set for greater things, and the owner-slash-founder of the top theatre company. He is an idol — a role model to those who aspire to be more involved in the artistic side of the world.

To you, however, he is an absolute lunatic, the bane of your existence, and your contractual husband.

It's not like you had much choice. It was either: a) remain as a hollow puppet whose strings danced at your family's fingertips, or b) find some way to escape with outside power.

You, of course, chose the second option. Unfortunately, that somehow led to you meeting the young duke when out in the shopping district, trying to escape the suffocating presence of your family's knights accompanying you by running into a secluded alleyway, even if it was for but a momentary breather.

It was a whirlwind of a meeting... quite literally. Bodies flew; clothing tousled; breaths stolen. Well, at least for you it was like this. He, on the other hand, looked right as rain. (Lucky bastard.) You hadn't realised it was him at first, too absorbed in hasty apologies and the numbing bloom spreading across your backside like a wildfire (really, they ought to incorporate more padding in these flimsy clothes!), but when he uttered an apology of his own for not paying attention to his surroundings with an arm outstretched to help you stand, your mind all but blanked. What was someone of his status doing in a dingy alley? Didn't the newspapers report word of his self-confinement, having not stepped foot outside his manor in fervent preparation of his upcoming performance?

No, never mind all that; wasn't this a blatant opportunity being presented to you? An outside power that could help you escape the clutches of your family...

With gritted teeth, all sense of self-dignity was cast aside as you grasped his outstretched hand with both of your own, gazing into his widened eyes with your own narrowed ones.

"Your Grace, I know this is hardly the appropriate time nor place, but please... marry me!" Your words echoed within the enclosed space. Duke Reca blinked slowly down at you, and it was then you realised you never elaborated. "In... in a contractual marriage of convenience, of course."

"Oh?" he grinned, amusement and intrigue twinkling in his eyes. "And what is it you can offer me?"

"I..." Truthfully, there was nothing you could offer which would be beneficial to someone like him who had everything at the tips of his fingers. You were but a speck of dust in his world, merely floating and remaining unseen within his view. But even so, here you kneeled before him, his gaze wholly fixated on a speck of dust such as yourself. If nothing else, you at least had your desperation — a desperation to be your own person. "My lineage may be from that of a baron's, but I am confident I can be of use to you if you would permit it. So long as you accept my offer, I will do anything to aid you, whether that be through practical means or a performance you wish to see."

A beat of silence.

"Ha... haha... ahahaha!!"

And, as if things couldn't get any worse than a sore rear and disgruntled self, you were pulled out of your daze by a pair of gleaming carmine eyes, a maniacal grin, and his body, now kneeled just like you were, so very close to your own.

"That determination... how brilliantly you burn with such an expression!" The sheer glee which bled through his tone sent shivers down your spine, having never realised someone so esteemed had such a side to him. The duke breathed a breathy laugh and slightly backed up, his hands still holding your arms. "Alright, I look forward to seeing how brightly you will shine in your performance, my dear leading actor."

...Was it too late to back out and find an alternative solution?

Admittedly so, for the next thing you knew vows were declared and you were moved into the duke's residence. You could still remember your family's aghast expressions the moment you declared you were marrying Duke Reca and thus cutting ties with them. It was oddly freeing to see their contorted faces reveal their true nature.

Life as the duke's spouse was... something, to say the least. His servants and attendants almost seemed to have shed tears of joy at the revelation of their ever so lonely duke (their words, not yours) finally settling down and getting married, asking you questions such as how you both met, what drew you to their duke, who popped the question first, why you chose him of all people, so on so forth. It was... cosy. Something you admittedly weren't very accustomed to, but found yourself welcoming nonetheless.

One thing you never expected was for the duke to have a little pet of his own; a little toad dressed in a miniature beret and matching suit, at that. Assistant Director is what Reca had called her, and you think for someone so obsessed with the arts he ought to up his naming sense. She was also quite susceptible to compliments, something you discovered when commenting on the little toad's cute attire, with the duke's baffling translation of her bashfulness and her own compliment on your own looks. Apparently. You're not really sure, but you're inclined to believe it ever since she claimed a spot on your shoulder.

As the days-turned-weeks-turned-months bled into each other, you found yourself oddly lost at how well-adapted you have become of your new life and the duke's personality. From impromptu displays of affection both in and outside the manor to sporadic radio silence on his end when wholly consumed by his fervent passion for a project, you sometimes wonder just how you're still alive with the amount of heart attacks the man has given you.

But despite his... eccentricities, to put it lightly, there are times where you can't quite put a finger on certain expressions he would make when he thinks you're not looking. They're unlike his (once again, to put it very lightly) passionate eyes when rambling to you during mealtimes about an upcoming performance the troupe has; unlike the sheer mania he can exude when something truly sparks his inspiration; unlike the playfully smug grin he would give you when swooping down in dramatic flair to press a long kiss to the back of your palm; unlike the rare darkening of his expression that you cannot help but stiffen at when something or someone in the troupe doesn't quite match his expectations.

No. These ones are... soft. A kind of tenderness and unprecedented longing able to be identified if scrutinised close enough. It was evident in the ghost-like touches he would trail along your skin, as though afraid just a little more force would do irreparable damage. It was evident in the attention to even the most minute details, having everything from clothing to food to the decor suited to preferences you yourself never realised you had. It was evident in the way unadulterated fondness leaked through his tone when his unique terms of affection for you slipped through his lips when all was silent and you were supposed to be asleep.

"My dearest star..."

...Much like now, it would seem.

The bed dips by where your knees slightly bend, hidden under the beige covers. A familiar musky scent surrounds you not long after, and you find yourself involuntarily relaxing at the comfort it brings as your head further burrows into the pillow.

You want to stay awake, even if it's just for a second longer, to hear what he has to say to your less than conscious state. But, oh, his fingers threading through your hair and softly massaging your scalp and the gentle touch of his forehead against yours and the subtle comforting warmth that rolls off his body in waves does little to help you fight the sleep which easily takes over.

Oh, whatever! You'll just try and catch what he has to say next time.

Eventually your breathing evens out, only soft snores now heard within the large shared bedroom. Upon noticing this, Reca cannot stop the fond smile which lifts the corners of his lips, nor can he prevent the softening of his eyes as he continues to gaze at your sleeping form.

"My dearest [Name]," he whispers into the dead of night. Even now, several months later, he still cannot believe his luck to have run into you in that alleyway. It must have been fate which made him heed its call, urging him he would discover something sure to escape that terrible slump plaguing him for weeks on end.

Sure enough, it brought him to something irreplaceable; something he has been searching desperately for.

You.

And, with the tenderest of kisses pressed to your forehead that would put even the most sickening romantics to shame, he murmurs words of promise against your skin, an oath he swears to uphold no matter the obstacles which stand before him.

"In this life, I will ensure you have only the best of endings."

if you enjoyed this, reblogs and/or comments are greatly appreciated <33

#mr reca x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #mr reca x you #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #PEOPLE CAN FIGHT ME ON DUKE OF THE NORTH RECA IDC IDC I WILL NOT BACK DOWN !!! NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT??? NEVER GIVE UP !!!#im sorry . royalty aus are my achilles heel... my roman empire...#also literally the first thought i had when his model was first leaked was 'HES THE DUKE OF THE NORTH !!! HE HAS THE HAIR AND SUIT !!!!'#his lc when it was leaked further solidified that idea 🧍‍♀️#anyway his cn voice <3333 literally have had it looped for the whole day i kid u not ;w;;;#it just... hit everything perfectly.... the itch is well-scratched..........

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cherry-zip · 3 months ago

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─ • CSC .ᐟ Aisles of Affection

› content ┆ idol scoups x fem reader, established relationship, jealousy, fluff ✎ word-count .ᐟ 2.2k. ⌁ summary ┆ After a hectic week, Seungcheol and you decide to go on a grocery shopping date. As you stroll through the aisles, picking out ingredients for a cozy dinner, an encounter with a supermarket worker triggers a wave of jealousy in Seungcheol.

✧ feedback & reblog are highly appreciated!

It had been one of those relentlessly exhausting weeks—the kind that stretched like a rubber band pulled too tight, ready to snap at any moment. Between work deadlines, classes, and running errands, you and Seungcheol had barely seen each other. So when Friday evening finally rolled around, you decided to do something simple yet meaningful: spend the evening together, just the two of you. A casual date at the supermarket to pick out ingredients for a cozy dinner sounded perfect. You didn’t need anything fancy to enjoy each other's company; just a quiet evening to unwind.

As you made your way to the nearby supermarket, Seungcheol grabbed a cart, pushing it alongside you with his strong, sure hands. You walked in hand-in-hand, his grip warm and firm as he led you to grab the cart. There was something so comforting about its simplicity. You didn’t need extravagant dates when the best part of the day was always being with him. His presence was steady and comforting, like an anchor in the middle of a storm. Even something as mundane as grocery shopping felt special with him by your side.

“Should we start with vegetables or fruit?” he asked, his voice warm and casual, his eyes scanning the signs hanging above the aisles.

“Fruit,” you replied without hesitation. “I’m in the mood for something sweet.”

He smirked, giving you a teasing look. “You’re always in the mood for something sweet.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Can you blame me? Life’s better with dessert.”

His smile widened at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way you loved. “Alright, fruit it is then.”

As you made your way to the produce section, you noticed Seungcheol looking over at you every now and then, his gaze soft and thoughtful. It was the little things like that—those quiet moments of tenderness—that reminded you just how much he cared. He wasn’t always the type to say it out loud, but his actions spoke volumes. The way he gently guided you through crowds, how he’d grab things off the highest shelves without you asking, or how he’d always make sure your favorite snacks made it into the cart.

Seungcheol was the type of boyfriend who always paid attention to the little things. He knew you loved cherries, so of course, he steered the cart straight to the fruit section. He began scanning the shelves with his sharp eyes, intent on picking the best ones for you. It didn’t take long to reach the rows of colorful fruit. Your eyes immediately went to the cherries, plump and bright red under the fluorescent lights. You reached out to grab a pack, but Seungcheol beat you to it, picking it up and examining it with a critical eye.

“They don’t look that fresh,” he said, frowning as he held the pack closer for inspection. “Let me see if there are better ones.”

You chuckled softly, amused by how seriously he took even the smallest details. “Seungcheol, they’re just cherries. I’m sure they’re fine.”

He didn’t look convinced. “No way, I’m getting you the best ones.” His gaze flicked to a nearby worker stocking the fruit section, a young guy with a friendly smile who seemed happy to help.

And that’s when things started to shift.

The worker noticed Seungcheol’s approach and walked over. His name tag read *Minho* in neat black lettering. He glanced between you two before stepping closer, offering a polite nod. “Hey, can I help you with anything?” he asked, his tone overly friendly as he glanced in your direction, giving you a smile that lingered just a bit too long.

And that’s when you felt the subtle shift.

Seungcheol, who had been calm and easygoing just moments ago, suddenly straightened, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the cherry pack. His jaw set a little firmer, and his eyebrows narrowed just a fraction, barely noticeable, but enough for you to catch it. You sensed the subtle shift in his mood, like a storm cloud gathering on the horizon. Was he... jealous?

“We were just looking for the freshest cherries,” Seungcheol said, his voice polite but a little sharper than usual. “These ones don’t seem great.”

Minho looked at you again, clearly unaware of the silent territorial tension now simmering between you and Seungcheol, smiled, and nodded. “Oh, those are great, but if you want the best ones, we’ve got a new batch in the back. I can go grab them for you if you’d like.” He flashed you another grin before glancing at Seungcheol, who was glaring at him.

You noticed then that Minho’s gaze lingered on you a little longer than it should have, the kind of glance that seemed more friendly than professional. It wasn’t inappropriate by any means, but it was enough to catch Seungcheol’s attention. His hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him, his fingers curling possessively on your skin. His grip was gentle, but there was a clear message behind it.

“No need,” Seungcheol replied quickly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll take these.”

You could feel the simmering frustration rolling off him in waves, though he tried to keep his expression neutral. Minho blinked, clearly catching on to the underlying tension but still oblivious to its cause. “Alright, well, if you need anything else, just let me know,” he said, shooting you one last smile before walking off to help another customer.

As soon as Minho was out of earshot, Seungcheol exhaled slowly, his shoulders still tense. You couldn’t help but notice the way his fingers tightened on your waist, his face drawn into a tight line. He didn’t say anything as you continued down the aisles, but you knew him well enough to understand what was going on. Your usually confident and calm boyfriend was feeling... jealous.

The thought of it almost made you laugh. Choi Seungcheol, leader of Seventeen, who could command attention with just a look, was jealous over a random supermarket worker? It was adorable, really.

You leaned closer to him as you walked past the dairy section, nudging him gently. “You okay, Cheol?” you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

He didn’t look at you at first, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m fine,” he muttered, though the tone of his voice said otherwise.

But he wasn’t fine, and you knew it. You could see the way his jaw was clenched, the way his eyes flicked toward where Minho had gone as if to make sure the guy wasn’t still looking at you. It would have been endearing if it wasn’t so out of character for him.

“You sure? Because you’ve been acting a little... off since the fruit section,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Seungcheol sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he leaned against the cart, his eyes searching yours. There was something vulnerable in his gaze that made your heart squeeze a little. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, though you could tell he was struggling to brush it off. After a moment, he turned to you, his eyes meeting yours with a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “It’s just—did you see the way that guy was looking at you?” he asked, his voice low, almost frustrated.

You blinked, genuinely surprised. “Minho?”

“Yeah, him, Minho,” Seungcheol said, his brow furrowing, nearly spitting out the name like it left a bitter taste in his mouth. “He was practically undressing you with his eyes.”

You tried to hold back a laugh, but the seriousness in Seungcheol's expression made it impossible. You let out a soft chuckle, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Cheol, he was just being friendly. I doubt he even thought about me like that.”

But Seungcheol wasn’t having it. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Well, I noticed. And I didn’t like it.”

There was a pause as you took in his words, your heart fluttering at the possessiveness in his tone. He wasn’t usually this direct about his feelings, but when he was, it always caught you off guard. You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his dark hair, trying to soothe his worries. Choi Seungcheol—your confident, cool-headed boyfriend—was feeling jealous because of a brief interaction with a random supermarket worker. It was kind of adorable, really.

You leaned up on your tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his cheek, your fingers grazing his jawline. “You don’t have to worry about anyone else, Cheol,” you murmured against his skin. “I’m yours, remember? I always have been.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close in a protective embrace. “I know...,” he whispered, his tense expression softening just a bit, but the jealousy still lingered in his eyes. “I just hate the idea of someone else thinking they have a chance with you.”

You leaned up on your tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, feeling the tension in his body slowly melt away as he kissed you back. His arms tightened around you, anchoring you in place as if he needed to remind himself that you were still there, still his.

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady

beat of his heart as you stood there, cocooned in your own little world amidst the bustle of the supermarket. No one could ever compare to him, and you hoped he knew that. “You’re the only one for me,” you reassured him softly.

Seungcheol was quiet for a moment, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, the edge of frustration melting away. “I know. I guess I just get... protective sometimes.”

You smiled, tilting your head up to look at him. “Sometimes? Mmmh… You’re always protective.”

Seungcheol chuckled at that, his mood finally lightening. He gave you a sidelong glance, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Can you blame me? Well, you’re worth protecting.”

As you finished up your shopping and headed to the checkout, the earlier tension seemed like a distant memory. Seungcheol was back to his usual self, joking with you as you debated which snacks to buy. And when you passed by Minho one last time, you couldn’t help but notice the way Seungcheol shot him a quick, pointed look, as if to silently say, *She’s mine.*

And honestly? You kind of loved it.

That night, as you cooked dinner together in the warmth of your small apartment, the earlier jealousy seemed almost silly. But deep down, you knew it meant something more. Seungcheol loved you fiercely, protectively, in a way that made you feel safe and cherished. And even if it meant dealing with the occasional amount of jealousy, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Because at the end of the day, you knew one thing for sure: Choi Seungcheol was your boyfriend, and no one—not even a flirty supermarket worker—could ever change that.

Later that evening, after you had returned to your apartment and started cooking together, sneakily eating cherries at times while still thinking back to the supermarket, Seungcheol stood beside you, focused on chopping vegetables while you stirred the pot on the stove. The warmth of the kitchen, the quiet clinking of utensils, and the soft hum of your shared space felt like a balm to the stress of the week.

“So,” you said casually, breaking the comfortable silence. “About earlier…”

Seungcheol glanced at you, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Nope. I just think it’s cute that you got jealous over a supermarket worker.”

He groaned, running a hand over his face as if to hide his embarrassment. “I wasn’t jealous—I was just… being cautious.”

“Sure thing, darling,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “Whatever you say.”

He sighed dramatically, setting the knife down before turning to face you. “Fine, maybe I was a little jealous. But can you blame me? You’re the most amazing person in the world, and I don’t want anyone else thinking they have a shot with you.”

You felt a surge of affection as you reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing gently against his skin. “You have nothing to worry about, Seungcheol. I’m all yours, forever.”

His eyes softened at your words, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I love you,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice making your heart swell.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the kitchen and the comforting presence of the man you loved, you knew one thing for certain: no matter what, no one could ever come between you.

› anonymous review form

yes i had to make it about cherries out of every fruits available... i might just be obsessed thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! don't forget to like, reblog, comment ^^

❀ a/n┆I've been writing a longer fic.. I've no idea if it will ever come to life so I do have a shorter and modified version coming at some point

‧₊ ᵎᵎ “CHERRY.zip"🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

1K notes · View notes

whirlybirbs · 4 months ago

Text

— NOISE COMPLAINT ; eijiro kirishima ; 切島

summary: red riot feels really bad about absolutely wrecking the shit out of your treasured plants, or eijiro kirishima falls in love at first sight. pairing: f!reader / pro hero!red riot word count: 3.7k tags: mutual pining, fluff/comfort, humor, very gentlemanly make-out, reader is a fan of red riot, mention of ingenium thirst (truth) a/n: kiri might be a twenty-seven year old pro hero in this fic but he is an absolute lovesick virgin who gets all his romantic cues from k-dramas. you cannot force me to think otherwise.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

The television, low and quiet, drones on as a deep-dive video on terrariums plays. Your apartment is clean — dishes done, laundry folded and trash taken out. There's a new candle burning on the coffee table, and a Dynamight-themed, cucumber-melon eye mask plastered to your delightedly thoughtless expression.

It's supposed to be good for dark circles. It kinda burns. You wonder if maybe that's, like, part of the gimmick. Y'know. Burns. Dynamight.

Whatever.

No thoughts. Only the pleasure of turning everything off — brain included — for a perfect Friday night, complete with a mediocre glass of wine and no pants.

The oversized Red Riot t-shirt clinging to your frame is your favorite. You've had it since college — it's a simple red tee with REAL MEN RIOT blazoned across the front, complete with your favorite hero popping a cheeky, shark-like grin and a double bicep. It's faded, stretched out, and broken in but it's also clean, and it smells like fabric softener and comfort.

This is the life.

Even Twitter is decidedly pretty calm tonight.

You're scrolling through your timeline, snickering at your friends' recent thirst tweets over Ingenium's recent GQ Japan shoot when it starts.

Apparently, your upstairs neighbors are home.

You thought those guys were out of town for the week.

You've had beautiful, silent bliss for too long. The buck stops tonight, you suppose.

There's a shout overhead, then a scramble. Another voice joins the fray, and you swear you hear someone call someone else an idiot. You frown deeply as your eyes trail upwards. You wait, expecting more noise, but unsettling silence follows.

Your eye twitches.

Annoyance tips into a simmering rage.

The apartment complex is old. It's in decent shape, and the rent isn't half bad, but the walls are thin. Your upstairs neighbors have been like this as long as you can remember: shouting, stomping, fighting... Some nights it's like being subjected to musical chairs, modern contemporary tap dance, and experimental sound drum solos all at once.

Your first week was the worst. You dragged yourself up the back to knock on their door and politely negotiate some silence — but the man who opened the door was less than pleased to have his little dude-bro circle-jerk interrupted. He told you to fuck off, get bent, and leave him the fuck alone.

Then, before he slammed the door in your face, he procured the sort of audacity only assholes possessed and laughed at your Red Riot shirt — which is just plain unforgivable, frankly.

"That guy's a fuckin' pussy."

Sure, sure, sure, right, right, right.

The interaction told you everything you needed to know about the two (or four?) men who lived upstairs. They were losers. And they were fuckin' annoying.

And, as it turns out, manufacturing bad batches of Trigger.

You don't know that yet, but truth be told it isn't exactly shocking.

Maybe it's your fault for picking an apartment complex in this part of Tokyo. This part of Arawaka Ward is rarely found on those top-ten-neighborhoods-for-young-professionals lists, but it's affordable! And for day laborers like you, it worked. And hey, in recent months, the crime rate has gone down at least 5% — which only quelled the anxieties of your mom and dad by about the same percentage.

The candle on the coffee table flickers, and you're about to turn back to your slow Twitter feed when there's another bang upstairs — this one admittedly loud enough to send a wave through your wine beside you. You slip your eyes slowly to the glass, perched on a coaster, as another bang rattles your apartment. You reach to still the vibrating glass on the side table.

That's when the shouting really starts.

And it's when you notice the growing brightness of red and blue lights outside the window.

The apartment complex is pretty big. There are about sixty residents and six floors. You lucked out and managed to snagone of the last available Western-facing studios with a balcony — which made for a perfect plant haven.

It was a recent hobby, but one that quickly became your calm after the chaos of the day-to-day. Working for the city's Heroics Response Department left you picking up the physical pieces (literally) of a lot of lives. Your quirk might be the usual, run-of-the-mill strength-based ability, but it comes in handy in the aftermath of property damage due to — what the Nation's Safety Commission has labeled — "villain-aggressed encounters".

All in all, it's a good gig. It's physically demanding but rewarding. The pay is good, you've got union benefits, and you even have a per-diem schedule. It keeps you busy, and though it's not your father's construction business, it's a career path your parents are proud of.

The slice-of-heaven balcony is bustling with plants. Some are happier than others, sure, but it's pretty. You've admittedlyformed an emotional bond with those vines, leaves, and flowers.

It's perfect.

It's also perfect for snooping whenever things like this go down in your complex, or the sister complex across the parking lot.

The shouting match upstairs is escalating, and you take the moment to tip-toe towards your balcony door to peek outside. It looks like two or three police cruisers have pulled up outside. Maybe someone called for a noise complaint? Maybe the property manager was tired of dealing with those losers?

Cackling to yourself, and hoping for a vindicating show of revenge (NO ONE CALLS RED RIOT A PUSSY), you yank open your balcony door and slip outside just as the sound of a pot crashing meets your ears.

Then:

"Shit, shit, shit—"

There's someone on the balcony. That someone's boot is currently stuck in an empty terracotta pot you were saving for spring. Your eyes are wide as you watch the shadow leap to his other foot, lose his balance, and unceremoniously knock over your entire, six-foot-tall, and well-treasured plant stand. You slap a hand over your mouth mid-shriek, hands flying to try and save whatever you can.

You fail.

Eijiro Kirishima freezes.

What the fu—

It takes a second.

Like, a full second. Maybe even two. Your brain can't make sense of the sight before you. Neither can his, really.

There's a girl on this balcony. A pretty girl. Like, mega pretty. Like soft and warm and cute and you smell kinda like vanilla — and there's... You're wearing his merch. His merch and... nothing else. Nothing else but a Dynamight eye mask and a pair of fluffy socks.

...Is this what it's like to fall in love at first sight?

Shit.

Red Riot is on your balcony.

The Red Riot.

Red Riot, the hero in question, catches himself staring. His wide eyes openly wander over your figure (woah, okay, hello thighs), and the second he realizes it, he quickly snaps his eyes up to your face with a mortified expression. "Uh... hi!"

"...Hi...?"

Your expression is tied between shame, fear, and sheepishness as you blink once at him, then twice at the mess of your hobby's destruction. There's dirt everywhere, a plant stand blocking the doorway, and carnage. Your precious babies have been murdered.

By Red Riot.

And... Red Riot is on your balcony.

You repeat: Red Riot is on your balcony.

Abort mission, abort mission.

Your lips part, your mouth hangs open, and every single thought in your head seems to stutter. Kirishima winces as you look down dejectedly at your plants (or, what remains) before he speaks.

"I, uh— is it cool if I..." he points upwards, "Use your balcony?"

You're speechless.

You draw your mouth shut and nod hurriedly.

"Thanks," he grins, giving you a thumbs up — and a smile. A toothy, cute, nervous smile, "Lemme just... I gotta handle something. B-But, I'll be back. I'll help fix this mess — just... five minutes, okay?"

It hits you suddenly that his voice sounds different from all those interviews you've watched. It's a little warmer, a little raspier, a little less heroic. It's cute.

Your brain is still having a hard time connecting the words coming out of his mouth to the scene before you — like, yes frontal lobe, this is real. This is happening.

Red Riot is real and Red Riot is on your balcony.

He's shockingly gentle when he finally frees his boot from your terracotta pot, setting it down with purposeful delicacy — he even whispers 'please stay' as he props it upright — and then steps back to eye the balcony above yours like an athlete remembering a gameplan.

He's trying to figure out the best way up.

How he even got up here is news to you.

(It was Uravity, as it turns out. They've been patrolling together more in this Ward.)

Red Riot is huge. Like, huge.

Broad shoulders, rippling biceps, and long, fluffy crimson hair. It's daunting to realize how tall he is in person. The guy is a beast — everyone knows it �� but his chivalrous nature is that thing that usually draws in his fans. It's no secret that Red Riot is sweet. He openly champions the need to be a good role model for men everywhere. Y'know, you can be strong and nice!

A sharp canine glints in your apartment's light as he pokes his tongue out and thinks for a second.

Then, he settles on his plan.

"You might wanna head inside," Red Riot says as he rolls his shoulders and bounces on the balls of his feet; he's readying up for a fight — and you blink as the beautiful realization dawns on you, "This could get kinda loud."

Loud?

Oh my god.

Is he here for your upstairs neighbors?

Oh my god, he is.

Your jaw falls open as you bark out a laugh — it's an incredulous rasp that sends you into a spiral of joy; you're not a vengeful person by any means but...

"They're gonna shit themselves," you grin, your eyes alight with pure delight and a spark of something that reminds Kirishima a lot little bit of Bakugo, "They called you a pussy—"

Kirishima's brows shoot upwards as he pauses. He was about to jump and dig his hands into the underside of the balcony, but his quirk is stalling at your words. There's a roaring fire blazing in your eyes, one that screams retribution.

It's... comical.

You cackle again at him with a wide grin, hissing conspiratorily. "They made fun of my shirt!"

You point down at the REAL MEN RIOT tee with both hands, your face set in a look of vindicated glee. Then, the second realization of the night hits — that you've got no pants on, and that stupid, goofy Dynamight eye mask is still on your face. You make a soft sound of embarrassment and tug your shirt down lower, trying to cover up. He cannot see your underwear. No. No way, no fucking way. Without a single word, you reach up, snatch the Dynamight eye mask off your face, and whip it off the balcony without a second thought.

Slowly, Kirishima's face splits into a pointy grin.

Holy shit, he's so fucking hot.

"Oh, man," Red Riot rumbles, his face cracking into a sharp, playful smirk, "That's real rude. I might have t' teach these guys some manners."

Your smile returns, washing away the wobbly look of embarrassment sticking to your cheeks.

Man, it sure is cute.

You are really cute, Kirishima realizes.

"Right! And who calls Red Riot a pussy?" you counter excitedly, before reigning it in and awkwardly lowering your arms as you try to tug your shirt down to hide the tops of your thighs again. Your glee has stifled a little bit, but it only reaffirms Kirishima's duty to wrap this all up.

"Yea, that's, like, super misogynistic," he muses as his quirk kicks in and his hands flick into a hardened state. It's insaneto witness the way his large hands transform into weapons with a single breath. You can see the jagged extension of his quirk working up his large arms, too, "Lemme just have a lil' word with these boys, alright? Head on inside, I'll be back in a sec'."

Then, with graceful ease, he hops upwards with a little hup before latching to the base of the upstairs neighbor's balcony.

It's insane how effortless it is for him to haul himself up the balcony, his hands dug into the cement. His upper body strength is insane. He's scaling the terrace, alternating his grip. He disappears into the dark, swinging his body upwards and reaching his destination.

You tamp down your awe in favor of heeding his directions: head inside.

You're closing the balcony door when you hear Red Riot's voice greet the unexpecting gaggle.

"Hey, fellas! I heard you guys are some super fans. Got anything you want me to sign?"

You snicker to yourself as you hear the beginning of a fight.

Again, as it turns out, the guys upstairs sucked. Like, mega sucked. They'd been responsible for several recent Trigger overdoses; Uravity and Red Riot were working with law enforcement to track the small-time manufacturers — which explains why they'd been so quiet lately. They suspected someone was on their tail.

As Red Riot scaled their balcony, law enforcement waited to break down their door. They arrested the four men (Seriously? Four? In that studio?) without much incident — however, you did spy a broken nose on one of them as they were hauled into the back of the awaiting cruisers.

Sweet, sweet revenge.

By the time your neighbors are carted off, you've shimmed into some sweats and made a half-assed attempt to look sort ofpresentable, all while firing off a few contextually incomprehensible texts into your group chat.

red riot has seen me in my underwear wtf do i do know kiss him?

You're really weighing your options when there's a knock on your balcony entry. It's gentle and cordial. You turn, head snapping, and spy that trademarked (and a dozen times retweeted) smile through the glass. He waves.

Your heart leaps into your throat. You try to remember to breathe as you shuffle over and tug the balcony door open. The night air is cool.

Be like the night air.

Stay cool.

Eijiro feels so silly. And guilty. And honestly? Really into you.

You're still wearing that shirt — the one with his face on it. You have opted to put on pants, but Kirishima still reminds himself to keep his eyes on your face. No ogling. That's not very gentlemanly.

There's a beat of awkward silence as the two of you wait for the other to speak, and Kirishima is the one to break it with a raspy laugh.

"I wanted to apologize about your plants," a large hand moves to rub the back of his neck, "I cleaned up as best I could. I'm really, really sorry."

You wave him off, leaning into the doorframe. "No, it's okay! It's nothing I can't... fix. I think?"

You look beyond him to the catastrophic mess of plant matter. He must have tried tidying up while you rattled off the rapid-fire texts in the group chat.

Red Riot's face warbles into something tied between mortification and guilt. "Please forgive me."

"Seriously!" you cry, waving your hands as you try to placate his dejected expression, "Please don't feel bad. It's a fair trade, y'know. Those guys upstairs were, like, the worst."

"I can only imagine," Eijiro concedes, frowning a little, "They didn't give you too much trouble, did they?"

You shake your head and laugh a little, "Aside from insulting my favorite hero to my face? Not really."

Kirishima can feel his face get a little hot. He shifts from boot to boot. His smile is a little woozy. "So... you're a fan?"

You don't need to tell him the underwear you have on matches the shirt — red, with an embroidered RR on the front. You keep that to yourself. You just nod happily.

"Really?" his grin cracks into something so excitable it makes your entire stomach flip, "I don't meet a lotta fans who are..."

His words drift off.

He's staring at your eyes. You're so... soft. Warm. Your eyes are swirling with quiet, astonished adoration and it's making Kirishima feel like he's floating.

"Who are...?" your brow quirks as you lean deeper into the doorframe, trying to coax out the rest of the sentence.

"Gorgeous," he breathes, his posture relaxing a little as he soaks in your expression.

It's like getting sucker punched to the sternum.

All the wind rushed out of your lungs.

The soft moment only lasts a beat, because suddenly Red Riot's face screws up and he waves his hands hurriedly. "Wait, no. Hold on, I mean — all of my fans are gorgeous, because, uh, they're my fans and I love them, right? It's not like they're not gorgeous, I just — I'm... I... My fans are, like, usually dudes? A-And that's totally cool because dudes can be gorgeous, too, y'know? But—"

You're laughing.

Kirishima is realizing he was not paying enough attention in his agency's PR training last month and you're laughing.

"I get it," you giggle, crossing your arms and grinning up at him, "I mean, I definitely don't think I'm gorgeous but—"

"You are," he assures firmly, his expression serious.

Are you dead?

Are you, like, literally ascending to a higher plane right now?

There's no fucking way this is happening.

Your lips part in quiet shock as you bite back a smile that threatens to cramp up your cheeks. Kirishima eats it up, his posture perking up at the way you seem to melt at his compliment. His smile is boyish — almost dizzy.

You duck a bashful look towards the tiled floor of the balcony, not really giving a singular shit that your beloved monstera has been stomped on.

Kirishima clears his throat, then — in a move he totally hasn't swooned over in those K-dramas he's secretly obsessed with, that'd be ridiculous — he props his arm up against your door and leans over you. Your faces are close in the warm light of the balcony.

Your eyes stutter up his abdomen, chest, jaw, lips, and eyes. Kirishima notices. It's really, really cute.

"Are you, uh... Are you seeing anyone?"

Of course, Red Riot would ask that. Red Riot, the king of chivalry. How is something like that so endearing? For the tenth time tonight, he makes your stomach flip.

You shake your head no, a little too stunned to speak.

"Cool," Eijiro musters over a shake of nerves, "Cool. Okay. Uh, then would it... would it be okay if I bought you some new plants?"

You nod, swallowed entirely by his shadow. He's so fucking huge.

"And if I took you to dinner?"

Another nod.

"...And — shit. You're, like, so cute," the smooth persona he's put on melts a little as his eyes roam your face; you feel so... shy, "I was gonna ask you something else but..."

"My number?" you offer, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you maintain eye contact.

Is it hot? You're sweating. Is he sweating? He's hot.

Eijiro nods, absolutely mesmerized by the way you tug your lip between your teeth. "That. Yea."

He has to fight back the urge to bite his knuckle when you turn away and move towards your kitchen to snag your phone. Kirishima stays put, allowing himself one moment of ogling. When you turn around, he's clearing his throat and crossing a boot over his ankle.

He's still leaning up against the doorway.

"Here," you slip him the phone.

Eiijiro takes it — then hesitates for a second.

"...You're not gonna leak my number, are you?"

You have to laugh. You rub your cheek and shake your head before crossing your arms and looking up at him. "If you think I'm going to do anything to fumble this, you're wrong."

Fumble this? Fumble him? He's the one that is at risk of fumbling, are you serious?

Eijiro barks out a surprised laugh as he enters his number, shoots a quick text his way then ignores the buzz in his back pocket. He hands your phone back and tries so fucking hard to ignore the way your fingers brush his.

He got your number.

Holy shit, he got your number.

"Hey, Red Riot?"

He blinks down at you. "Y-Yea?"

You gesture for him to come closer, and he obeys easily — he bends a bit at the waist, his hair falling along his shoulders as he smiles down at you in the threshold of your apartment.

"Is everything alri—?"

You pop a chaste kiss against his cheek.

Or, try.

As you hop up onto your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, Eijiro is turning his head at the sound of Urvaity calling his name simultaneously. Trajectory failed, and now it's lips and lips instead of lips on cheek — and honestly? He owes Ochaco one for this.

Red Riot melts — actually, truly, genuinely melts. His posture slumps down as you let out a shocked little sound of apology. But, Eijiro doesn't mind, and fuck, neither do you — because one hand braces against the doorframe above your head while his other hand is suddenly on your waist. He steadies himself, and damn. Damn.

He breaks away when Uravity calls his name again. Kirishima is breathless and blushing, and your knees feel like jello.

"I... Uh, I gotta go—"

"Yea, totally," you breathe, swallowing down the burn of unfiltered attraction, "Sorry, I was trying to kiss your cheek—"

Another call of his name. Red Riot curses softly before hollering a 'COMING!' over his shoulder, out past the edge of the balcony.

When he turns back, he's fast to sweep you into another kiss — this one hotter than before. This one draws you into his chest, sending your hands colliding with the hot skin of his chest. There's muscle and scars and heat beneath your fingertips. His hand curls around your lower back, and you nearly moan.

He peels himself away with an apologetic look as he backs towards the edge of the balcony. "I gotta go — I'll text you once patrol is over. Is that okay? I'm serious about the plants. And dinner."

All you can do is nod.

Eijiro is kinda proud of himself for stunning you stupid with that kiss.

This is exactly the sort of night you needed.

#noise complaint #kirishima eijirou #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima x you #red riot x reader #red riot imagine #mha imagine #bnha imagine #kirishima imagine #kirishima one shot #GUYS THIS WAS... THE CUTEST SHIT #SORRY I AM FOREVER A KIRI GIRL

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girlygguk · 3 months ago

Text

CRAZY | JJK (Part 2)

summary you know it sounds twisted. that most people would see hyungwon as the perfect boyfriend. healthy, balanced, all the things that relationships should be. that’s when you realized... you weren't like most people. but that's okay. because neither is jungkook.

pairing ceo!jk x employee!(f)reader

rating 18+ minors dni; smut, fluff, angst

genre coworkers to lovers au, established relationship

word count 13.2k

chapter content [read part one for full character & story warnings pls.] jk & oc first encounter, jungkook lowkey goes a bit yandere in one two of the scenes 😭, jk punches another guy, love at first fuck lets b real, mention of oc's superior abusing their power (not jk), hyungwon appearance 🙄, heejin appearance 🙄, hobi appearance 🎉, bff jiminie appearance 🎉, time skips, jealous mcs, heated argument, jk lies but like... for the greater good? god idk

warnings dom jk, sub oc, pre established traffic light sw system and degradation consent, doggy, dirty talk, protected p in v sex, praise kink, um slight exhibition kink, rough sex, squirting...(on their first fucking encounter yeeeppp help me god)

a/n this is only 75% edited bc i honestly wasn't going to post it for a whilee as i'm working on some other things atm but i felt bad just watching her sit in my drafts all sad n semi finished 😢 alsoo if a bit of the smut dialogue looks a lil familiar... cough salsa.. its bc i was gonna completelyy change up the sexy scene 🥺 and so i used the smut as inspo for the salsa drabble so it didnt go to waste... bye im such a clown. okay thank u, enjoy, and pls lemme know what u think <3 mwah

crazy pt 1 | masterlist | join my taglist | banner credit

801 DAYS AGO

Your twelve-month contract as a temp Administrative Assistant at Jeon Corp was creeping to an end, and it was safe to say that you were fucking pissed.

You had put everything into this place—countless overtime shifts, moved into an overpriced house in the city near the firm so you were never late. You eat, sleep and breathe this fucking company. And what did you get for it? An almost certain rejection, apparently.

You were more than sure they'd offer you a permanent position. Your stats spoke for themselves. They were flawless. You’d single-handedly cleaned up the absolute fucking disaster left behind by the previous administrative assistant who bailed after Jeon Jun-seo’s passing—and that was not light work.

And by "bailed," you meant that they were part of the bloodbath that ensued when Jungkook took over and wiped out almost half the staff for incompetence.

The staff who remained still grumbled about it—loyalists, maybe, or just people too comfortable with the way things used to be. They hated him for it. He was ruthless, sure, but effective. Jeon Corp wasn't just successful; it was dominating. They went from merely hitting targets to blowing right past them. And that shift started with him.

Jungkook was good. Really fucking good.

He was young, driven, passionate, and not to mention—a sight for sore eyes. Even as someone who didn't like to openly praise men, you couldn't help but be impressed.

Still, you knew your fate wasn't in his hands directly. He wasn't going to be the one deciding whether your temp position would become permanent. He was the CEO—too high up to care about such things. And besides, you'd never even spoken to the guy. You spent most of your time on the twelfth floor, and he was always buried in work on the nineteenth.

Except for that one time.

Maybe three months ago? You had shared an elevator with him when you both arrived at work around the same time. For eleven floors, you stood silently beside him. Well, you were silent. He was on the phone, speaking in that low, gravelly tone that had a way of crawling under your skin. Being so close, you could hear the slight slip of a Busan accent when he spoke. He wasn't rude, just... intense.

Even while curses slipped from his lips to whoever was on the other end of the line, you couldn’t help but wonder if that was just his usual tone—whether he was speaking to a business partner, an enemy, a lover. Either way, you didn't think it was negative. It was just him.

You knew bits and pieces about the guy from what Jimin had shared—him being Jungkook’s assistant and all—but nothing too personal. Not that you needed to know. Though, admittedly, he had piqued your interest.

A month prior to that elevator ride, you’d caught a glimpse of something that had you squirming in your seat. From your office, you had glanced over to see him leading a meeting on your floor. His suit jacket had been tossed over the back of his chair, revealing the dirtiest, prettiest fucking sleeve you’d ever laid eyes on. His big, tattooed bicep flexed with each movement as he pointed at the projector screen.

The sight had you groaning, pushing your unfinished lunch aside and retreating to the bathroom.

You’d tried calling your boyfriend, hoping to pull him into some filthy phone sex, but he was too nervous to go through with it. In the end, you hung up frustrated, finishing yourself off in the stall, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loudly.

The elevator ride felt quicker than usual. You kept your eyes fixed on the LED screen, watching the numbers tick up, though you were more focused on the way his cologne filled the space, light but somehow intoxicating. By the time the doors slid open on your floor, his call had ended. You adjusted your bag, turning to him with a polite bow.

"Have a good day, seonsaengnim," you'd said, your voice soft as you smiled.

He didn’t say anything back, just looked at you for a second, his dark eyes sweeping over your face. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he gave you a subtle nod, and you walked off, feeling his gaze linger as you left.

And that was it.

You didn't see him again. Not in the lobby, not passing by in meetings, not even when your car and his were the last ones left in the parking lot after late shifts. It wasn't unusual; he was literally the CEO, always busy, always somewhere else. He didn't have time to notice you.

But you couldn’t help but think about it more than you’d like to admit.

If you'd known that you'd never cross paths with him again, never ride the same elevator, never exchange more than those few words before your temp contract ended—would you have done something different? Said something more?

Maybe you would've clicked a higher floor.

But here you were. No offer. No permanence. Just three job offers from other firms sitting in your inbox, waiting for your reply. Of course, you had a backup plan—you weren't that naive. But something about it stung anyway. You'd take one of those offers at the end of the week, move on, and maybe one day, you'd forget about Jeon Corp entirely.

Sigh.

You were really going to miss Jiminie, though.

“So... how's your shift going?”

You rolled your eyes, a soft laugh escaping as you twisted the cap off your water bottle, taking a sip before tearing the lid off your salad. Your phone sat on your desk, Hyungwon's voice crackling through the speaker.

"It's going good, Hyungwon," you replied, voice tinged with sarcasm. "Same as every day."

A sad chuckle echoed through the receiver. "Oh, yeah? Well, we just got new printers at the firm, you know, the Lexmark MX8s? What about y—"

The forkful of salad that was halfway to your mouth dropped back into the bowl. "Hyungwon," you interrupted, incredulity dripping from your tone. "Did you really call me to talk about printers?"

"Well, I—no, I just—"

You sighed, reaching for your water again and setting your untouched lunch down. "Hyungwon, I hope you're okay, I really do. And I'm happy for you and your fancy printers," yours were two seasons ahead, "but this isn't helping. You're not going to feel better if—"

"I just miss you, Y/N," his voice cracked, and instantly, your appetite evaporated. You let out another deep sigh, rubbing your temples, as Hyungwon's next words came out shaky. "And I just want to know what I did wrong. We were doing so well. W-what did I do?"

"Hyungwon…" You picked up the phone, taking it off speaker as you leaned back in your chair, eyes focused on the ceiling. "You didn't do anything. You're a great guy, okay?"

"Yeah," he scoffed, his voice bitter and teary. "Girls don't break up with 'great guys' after an amazing year together out of the blue, Y/N."

Was it out of the blue? Had it been amazing?

"We've been over this," you sighed, adjusting the phone in your hand. "A hundred times in the last month. It's not about what you did. We just—"

"Weren't right for each other," he finished, his voice robotic, like he was reciting a script he'd memorized against his will. A sniffle followed as you heard him reach for tissues. "Just… wanted you to know I miss you. And… could I come by next week? Pick up my clothes?"

You took a long drink from your water bottle, feeling a headache forming. "I’ll leave it with reception. You can pick it up from the office—"

"No," he cut in, his voice tight with desperation. "Please, from your place. I just… I need to see you one more time."

You exhaled deeply, eyes unfocused as you stared out your floor-to-ceiling window. It had been a month since you ended things with Park Hyungwon—a month since you stuffed his clothes into a box and offered to drop them off. A month of excuses, a month of him putting it off, dragging out these unbearable phone calls, asking to see you in person, to talk.

You knew why he wanted to make the exchange in person. You weren't stupid. But lately, something about his calls had been giving you a bad feeling—a taste in your mouth that lingered long after you hung up. Hyungwon wasn't dangerous. He wouldn't hurt a fly. But he was... off. These calls always followed a pattern.

First, 1:15pm, right when you started your break, your phone would buzz. You'd glance down, see an incoming call from P.H, and immediately regret ever sharing your lunch schedule with him.

Then, he'd be kind. Sweet. Boring. Asking about your shift, your day, until something—something trivial—would break his composure. He'd start to crack, voice shaking, or worse, he'd burst into tears over something like… printers.

By the end of the call, there was always that weird shift. Not angry, not sad… something in between. A mix of emotions that left you unsettled, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why. You could feel the resentment beneath it all, though—like he definitely blamed you for the breakup, no matter how many times he asked what he could've done to keep you.

That was fine. You were used to people resenting you. You were top of your major, gorgeous, and a bit of a bitch. But hearing that tone in Hyungwon's voice? A human puppy dog you'd spent a year of your life with? It made your skin crawl in a way you couldn't shake.

And now, here he was, asking to see you again. For what? Closure? An emotional showdown? You didn't care. You just knew you had to end this, fast. Another call filled with sniffles and pleas, eating away at what little break time you had? You'd throw yourself out that fucking floor-to-ceiling window before you let that happen again.

"Fine," you sighed, glancing at your watch as you switched the phone to your other ear. "You can come over next week. I'll check my schedule."

"Really?" His voice immediately brightened, and you rolled your eyes. "Shivers! That sounds great! Just text me when—"

You swallowed the bile rising in your throat. Shivers? SHIVERS?

"Break's over, Hyungwon," you interrupted, forcing a smile into your voice. "Talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you, Y/N. I'll call you tomorrow."

The line went dead, and your fist clenched around the phone.

"God," you muttered to yourself, tossing it onto your desk with an exasperated sigh, "I'm changing my fucking break time."

"Should I come back later?"

You yelped at the sudden voice, spinning around in your chair to see your best friend standing in your office doorway, his signature Cheshire grin firmly in place.

"Jiminie!" you beamed, frustration melting away as you rushed over to pull him into a hug. "No, it's okay. It was just—"

"Hyungwon," Jimin finished for you with a knowing, apologetic nod. "You know, you could always just… not answer when he calls?"

You rolled your eyes, brushing a piece of blonde fringe from his face. "And have his suicide on my conscience? No thanks."

"He's a grown man. He can make his own decisions," Jimin shrugged, laughing when you widened your eyes in faux shock.

You shuffled back to your desk, stabbing a cherry tomato from your salad. "Aren't you supposed to be telling me to run back into his arms and admit I was wrong? Some sort of cousin code or something?" you quirked a brow teasingly, humming around the mouthful.

He laughed softly, adjusting the files in his hand. "I'd never tell you to go back to something you were clearly miserable in, Y/N. Even if he is my cousin."

You swallowed another bite, giving him an appreciative smile before finishing the rest of your water bottle. "That is why I love you, Park." You threw the rest of your papers into a folder and linked your arm with his. "And why I'm going to miss you so much." You pouted playfully.

Jimin rolled his eyes, guiding you out of your office. The usual hustle and bustle of level twelve filled the air as he snorted, "Don't say that. You're not going anywhere, Y/N."

"Mm, I beg to differ." You shot back, bitterness lacing your voice. "I haven't heard a word about permanency, and my contract ends in four days." With a dramatic sigh, you added, "Guess you'll just have to visit me at KimCo on your lunch breaks instead."

"First of all," Jimin smirked, "I wouldn't drive across town on my lunch break to visit anyone, even you." You squinted at him as he teased, "And second, yeah, it's shitty that you haven't heard anything about the promotion—"

"And unprofessional," you interjected, rolling your eyes. "And discourteous, and obnoxious, and plain fucking rude—"

He chuckled, cutting you off with a light shrug. "Yes, all of the above," he agreed as you both reached the elevators. Unlinking his arm from yours, he pressed the button to go up. "But… have you accepted the offer at KimCo yet?"

You frowned, glancing at the lit-up arrow pointing up. "No, not yet. I was going to tonight…" You trailed off, turning to him in confusion. "Jiminie, why are we going up? Our meeting's on level seven."

Jimin glanced down at the file in his hand before his mouth opened to respond, but the elevator dinged, catching your attention.

The doors slid open, and you were immediately hit with the faint scent of tobacco and Bvlgari. Your head turned slightly, seeking the source.

Jungkook stood inside, eyes focused on the phone in his hand, dressed in a perfectly pressed designer suit that somehow looked more sinfully casual on him than it had any right to.

You blinked, tearing your gaze away from him and turning back to Jimin, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh yeah, uh, the meeting's been pushed back a bit," Jimin said, nodding to the elevator. "But you're needed upstairs for a moment."

You frowned, glancing down at the heavy folder in your hands as you stepped into the elevator. If the meeting was postponed, you wouldn't have dragged this big fucking thing around with you. You left some space between yourself and the CEO and Jimin happily slid in between, his usual smile bright and easy.

The doors closed, and silence settled over the small space. Jungkook was still looking at his phone. Jimin still hadn't pressed a button.

You frowned. "Jiminie, why haven't you clicked a floor?"

He turned toward you, feigning confusion as his eyes flicked toward the panel. "Oh, because it's already pressed." He shrugged, flashing a quick smile before turning forward again.

You stared harder at the panel. From the corner of your eye, you could see Jungkook's broad frame. His phone was tucked away now, but his gaze remained fixed straight ahead. He hadn't said a word.

"Level nineteen?" you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice.

Jimin nodded, offering you a simple smile.

The elevator crawled its way up slowly with a few more words exchanged between you and Jimin. Then, finally, the elevator dinged open at level nineteen, and the air shifted.

The sleek, pristine hallway stretched out before you, polished floors gleaming so bright that you could almost see your reflection in the tiles. You had only been here once before, for a department meeting with the CCO, Kim Namjoon.

Jimin politely bowed to his boss as you instinctively stepped back, allowing Jungkook to exit first. His gaze never wavered as he nodded in acknowledgment, his movements calm as he stepped out.

As you followed Jimin down the hall, you couldn't help but notice how eerily quiet everything was. The glass-paneled meeting rooms stood empty, the reception desk vacant. The last time you were here, the place had life, but now… nothing.

Jungkook disappeared into his office without a word while you and Jimin continued walking. Your confusion only deepened as you glanced through the glass panes into all the very empty meeting rooms.

Jimin slowed at the entryway to Jungkook's office.

"Jiminie, what's going on?" you asked, gently grabbing his arm. "Am I supposed to have a meeting with Jeon Jungkook-seonsaengnim? Why wasn't I informed? I need to know what's required—"

"Y/N," Jimin interrupted softly, his hand covering yours reassuringly. "I'll explain soon, okay? I know it's last minute, and I'm sorry for that. Let me just make sure everything is on track." He smiled at you before gesturing to the plush seats outside the office. "Take a seat. I won't be long."

You hesitated, but trusting your best friend, you nodded, setting your folder on the table before sitting down. Jimin gave you one last encouraging smile before disappearing inside Jungkook's office, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Your eyes darted around the hallway as you waited, the clean surroundings feeling almost too sterile, too perfect. The glass walls of Jungkook's office made it impossible not to glance inside. You caught a glimpse of him flipping through a file, his expression focused, detached. Jimin approached him, placing his own file down on the desk as the two exchanged quiet words.

Jimin greeted his boss again with a respectful bow. "Seonsaengnim," he smiled, placing the file in front of Jungkook.

Jungkook didn't look up from the papers he was thumbing through. "Is she waiting for me?"

"Yes, sir," Jimin replied, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. "You have about thirty minutes before the board meeting, so I thought now could be a good time for you to meet with Y/LN Y/N… The temp administrative assistant from level twelve? Her contract ends in—"

"Four days," Jungkook finished, finally closing the file in front of him. He reached for the one Jimin had brought, flipping it open. "Why hasn't her contract been extended? Her performance is strong, and she has streamlined operations in her department. Does she not wish to stay with the company?"

"She does, sir," Jimin nodded. "But I was informed by Namjoon-seonsaengnim's assistant that Lee Dohyun does not plan to extend her contract. He intends to let it end."

Jungkook's brow twitched slightly, his eyes narrowing as he flipped through the papers. "And why does Dohyun plan to do that? She's efficient, profitable. She cleaned up the mess the last administrative assistant left behind." His tone was clipped, irritation poorly masked.

Jimin shifted on his feet, the hint of hesitation visible in his posture. "I'm not entirely sure, sir. It's mostly hearsay, but…" he cleared his throat, glancing at Jungkook before continuing cautiously, "there's a rumor that she rejected one of Dohyun's advances a few months ago. Since then, word has flown around that he's been less than accommodating toward her."

Jungkook's eyes darkened, his fingers stopping their idle flipping as his gaze snapped back to Jimin. "So, he's punishing her for not entertaining him?"

Jimin's silence was enough of an answer.

Jungkook's jaw clenched, the tension in his shoulders building. He flipped the file shut, the subtle thud of the paper echoing in the quiet office.

"Why have you brought her to me, Jimin?" he asked, shooting a sharp look at his assistant. "There's a chain of command. At least six people between Dohyun and me."

"There are," Jimin acknowledged. "But some months ago, you mentioned noticing a significant increase in productivity and efficiency in Administration… You said the improvements could be attributed to the new assistant's work. I just thought considering her contract ends in four days, you'd want to meet her personally before she accepts another offer."

Jungkook leaned back against his desk, glancing at the glass door where you were sitting, your legs crossed, eyes absentmindedly focused on a strand of your hair. His gaze flicked over your tight black pencil skirt, the cream blouse that hugged your figure, the neat ponytail held in place by four bobby pins.

"She's very good," he admitted, eyes dropping back to the folder. "But I don't meddle in the hiring department. Tell Dohyun to reconsider his decision."

Jimin shifted slightly. "He's on leave for the rest of the week, sir."

Jungkook sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Then go to the next in command, Jimin. I'm not—"

"She's accepting an offer from another firm tonight, Jungkook," Jimin said quickly, catching himself. "Jungkook-seonsaengnim," he corrected. "Once she signs the contract with KimCo, there won't be time to make a counteroffer."

Jungkook went quiet; his eyes focused on the closed folder in front of him as Jimin pressed on. "Just five minutes, sir. That's all she needs."

Jungkook's eyes flicked up to meet Jimin's. He rolled his eyes, leaning back on his desk, arms crossing over his chest. "You're supposed to make my life easier, not harder, Park."

Jimin couldn't help but grin, looking over his shoulder to catch you glancing down at your Apple watch. He bit back a snicker when you rolled your eyes, clearly getting impatient.

"She'd be a big loss, seonsaengnim," Jimin said honestly as he turned back to his boss. "I believe I'm making your life easier. You live, eat, and breathe this company."

Jungkook groaned, closing his eyes briefly before nodding. "Send her in. Five minutes."

"Thank you, seonsaengnim." Jimin bowed, turning toward the door.

"Jimin," Jungkook called out, his assistant's hand freezing on the handle.

"Yes, sir?"

"Draft effective immediate termination papers for Lee Dohyun and put them on my desk when you leave for the night."

Jimin bit back a grin. "Yes, sir."

You straightened in your seat as soon as you saw Jimin approaching, eyes narrowing suspiciously. He looked like the cat that caught the canary, and you didn't trust it for a second.

"Y/N, this way, please—"

"No," you snapped, swatting his outstretched hand away. "Brief me."

There was no way you were walking into a meeting with the fucking CEO without any preparation. Was he fucking high?

Jimin chuckled softly, clearly enjoying this way too much. "Relax, Y/N. It'll only take a few minutes. Jungkook's not much of a talker…" He reached out again, and you batted his hand away once more.

He laughed again, then pouted, blinking at you with wide, innocent eyes. "Please, Y/N? Just trust me."

"God, you're a cunt," you muttered under your breath, shooting him a glare as you stood and smoothed your skirt. Reluctantly, you started toward the office.

"Unprofessional…" Jimin teased with a grin, snickering when you turned and mouthed 'get fucked' at him before stepping inside.

The glass doors clicked softly behind you as you entered the impeccably tidy office. "Seonsaengnim," you greeted with a bow. “Y/LN Y/N. It's nice to formally meet you."

Jungkook barely glanced up, his dark eyes sweeping over you for just a moment before he dropped them back down to the file on his desk.

His nod was curt, his voice low and indifferent. "Jeon Jungkook," he said, as if his name wasn't already plastered across every inch of this building.

When he gestured toward the seat in front of his desk, you sat down, crossing your legs as he settled back into his chair. His attention returned to the open file. "Your contract ends in four days."

"Yes, sir," you nodded, hands resting in your lap as you held back any trace of bitterness.

"Do you not wish to stay here?" His voice was steady as his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

You blinked, a little surprised by the question. "No, sir. I do wish to stay. But I haven't heard anything from management regarding a permanent position."

"Who do you report to?" Jungkook asked, though you were sure he already knew the answer.

"Lee Dohyun-seonsaengnim."

He leaned back in his chair, drumming his tattooed fingers lightly against the desk as he skimmed the file. "Your work is impressive."

"Thank you, sir." You smiled softly, ignoring how those four simple words made your stomach flip. "That means a lot coming from you."

His gaze lingered on you for a second longer before he closed the file and set it aside. "Y/LN Y/N," he said, his voice calm, "Why do you think your contract hasn't been extended?"

You blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question. "I'm not entirely sure, seonsaengnim."

Jungkook hummed. "You've been here almost a year. Your work speaks for itself. Yet your contract hasn't been extended." His gaze locked on yours, and for a second, he almost looked genuinely interested. "Why?"

You inhaled slowly, keeping your expression as neutral as possible. "I've heard rumors, sir. But I'm not one hundred percent certain."

An eyebrow arched, and Jungkook tilted his head slightly. "Let's say the rumors are true. Do you think personal reasons should outweigh performance?"

"No, sir," you answered steadily. "But I don't control the decisions."

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and for a moment, his eyes flickered with amusement. Whether he appreciated your honesty or just liked watching you squirm, you weren't sure. "Do you plan on accepting an offer from another company, Y/N?"

You gave a slight nod. "Yes, sir. My first choice is KimCo. They've offered me a permanent coordinator role in their administration department. I plan on sending my letter of acceptance tonight, after my shift."

Jungkook was quiet for a moment, his dark eyes roaming over you lazily, but enough that it was impossible not to notice. "Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" he asked finally, his voice casual as he leaned back in his chair. "Or are you happy to go to KimCo?"

"I would prefer to stay, sir," you said, holding his gaze. "If Jeon Corp is willing to match the salary offer and I'm guaranteed a permanent position."

"What's the offer?"

"₩67m, sir."

Jungkook's expression didn't change. "We can do eighty."

"Wha—"

"I'll have your permanent administrative coordinator contract drafted by tonight and emailed to you. Will that work?"

It took you a second to process his words before you blinked in surprise. "Yes, sir," you replied, fighting to keep the smile tugging at your lips in check. "It would."

Jungkook leaned back further in his chair, his eyes flicking over you once more, lingering in a way that wasn't accidental. Then, with a simple nod, he closed the file in front of him. "Good. I'll expect your response by tomorrow morning."

You still don't really know how it happened.

Maybe it started when you stood to give him a polite bow before leaving his office, and he reached out for a handshake at the exact same moment. His cold hand accidentally brushed against the side of your inner breast through your blouse as you leaned forward, and suddenly, both of you froze.

Jungkook pulled his hand back sharply, his brows furrowing as he stared down at the file on his desk like it was the most interesting thing in the world, muttering a low apology, his usual confident tone suddenly gone.

It was... so cute.

Seeing the man who looked like he could ruin your life with just a snap of his fingers suddenly all shy and flustered as if he was more embarrassed than you were? Fucking adorable.

Maybe it was his instinct to avoid an HR complaint, to maintain professionalism in what could have been misconstrued as an inappropriate touch.

But you weren't going to misconstrue it. It was an accident.

And, honestly... you always were kind of a sucker for bad boys with soft eyes.

"Fucking goodddd!!!" you moaned, your voice barely coherent as your cheek pressed against the cold surface of his desk. Each relentless thrust from Jungkook had your body jiggling under him, your mind lost in a haze as his hips slammed into you without mercy. "S-so fucking b-biiiiig."

Your eyes rolled back, throat raw from the croaky whimpers that escaped between each ragged breath. His hand was firm on the back of your head, keeping you pinned down, helpless as he took you apart, piece by piece.

"I know, baby," he cooed, his voice laced with that condescending pout that only made you clench harder around him. "I know it's big, baby. But you can take it, can't you?"

His fingers tangled in your hair, brushing lightly over your flushed cheek in a teasing, mocking pat. Then, without warning, he pulled back and slammed into you harder, deeper, until you felt him hit that spot. That fucking spottt. Your breath caught in your throat as he didn't stop, didn't let up, just kept going, over and over and over.

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, nails scraping into the polished wood of his desk until you felt the lacquer gathering beneath your fingernails. The loud, wet slaps of his hips against your ass echoed through the room, his heavy balls smacking into your swollen clit.

"'Course you can take it. 'Cause you're such a hard worker, hm? Such an overachiever, aren't you, baby." His voice dripped with dark amusement, each taunting word sending shivers down your spine. His hand pressed your head harder into the desk, the weight of him leaving you trembling, drool pooling on the wood beneath you as you gasped and whimpered, completely at his mercy.

"You can take it, Y/N. Know you can," he murmured, every word like a filthy promise, his gaze locked on the way your body was surrendering to him, giving him everything. He wasn’t going to stop until you broke. Until you were his.

"Color, baby." He growled into your neck, his breath hot against your skin. He hummed in delight when he felt you swallow, your gasps feeding into his satisfaction.

"Green," you choked out, barely able to form the words. "Do anything to me. Green, fucking green to it all," you cried, voice raw as tears blurred your vision, and Jungkook groaned, teeth grazing the delicate skin of your throat in approval.

His grip tightened in your hair again, yanking you upright until your back was flush against his chest. "G-g-godddddd," you choked out, body trembling, tears threatening to spill as his thrusts grew quicker, more brutal, each one slamming harder and louder, drowning out everything else.

Your hands shot up, clawing desperately at the back of his neck as you tried to hold on, your body burning from the inside out as he destroyed you. His lips ghosted over the curve of your neck, teeth grazing your skin just as his hand slipped down your stomach, his fingers finding your swollen, slippery clit with ease.

Jungkook's pace became punishing, driving into you harder and faster, your body quivering under his touch. His lips brushed lazily over your neck, whispering filthy praise into your ear as his fingers circled your clit, sending a jolt through your entire body. The wet, sloppy sounds of his hips smacking into your ass filled the room, each thrust sending you closer to the edge.

"F-fuck, Jungkook," you gasped, your voice cracking as his pace quickened even more at the sound of his name on your lips. "It's s-so… fuck…"

He groaned low in your ear, his hand fisting your hair tighter, yanking your head back as his hips crashed into you over and over. "So good, Y/N baby," he cooed, his voice dripping with lust. "You're doing so fucking well. Taking it so good."

The praise made your throat bob, your entire body teetering on the edge of collapse. You couldn't think of anything but him—full, Jungkook, full, Jungkook. It was all-consuming, the only thing that mattered.

You weren't just wet anymore—you were disgustingly soaked, your arousal dripping down your thighs, mixing with the sweat on your skin as he ruined you. You let out a sob as tears streaked down your cheeks, your mascara no doubt smeared beyond repair as your entire body burned with pleasure.

"Careful, baby," he hummed darkly, voice tinged with amusement. "Don't want anyone to hear you, huh. Coming to check if you're okay..."

Your eyes flicked toward the glass doors, your head lolling back into the crook of his neck as you realized the vulnerability of your position. Fucked out, skirt bunched up around your waist, tits spilling over your bra, completely on display and helpless in his arms—holy fuck. The idea of someone seeing you like this had your thighs pathetically trembling as you felt yourself get even wetter. Sicko.

"S-sir," you stammered, the words forced out between his relentless thrusts that threw your body forward. "Cl-close the blinds."

Jungkook's lips curled into a smile against your neck at the lack of conviction in your words. Fucking perfect. His breath was warm as he whispered, "Why would I want to do that?" His hand slid to your chin, his fingers gripping firmly as he forced your eyes to the glass. "Y'look so fucking pretty, Y/N. Who would want to hide all that?"

Humiliation mixed with need, making your core throb even harder. The reflection of your wrecked form stared back at you—trembling, sweaty, makeup running down your tear-streaked face.

Well, he wasn't wrong. You did look kind of pretty.

The thought of how many other women had been in this same position with him briefly slithered through your mind, but you whimpered, pushing it away.

"H-harder, Jungkook… please," you gasped, voice a broken plea. "P-please, baby?"

That was all it took. His low groan vibrated through you, his hands gripping your waist tight as he snapped his hips into you with a force that made the desk rattle beneath your hands. One hand cupped your breast, tugging harshly at your nipple, while the other slipped down to mercilessly slap at your clit over and over.

"Shit, shit, shit, shittttt!" you sobbed, your voice high and broken, pleasure tearing through your body.

"You're close, aren't you?" Jungkook rasped, his voice rough as his thrusts grew erratic, harder, faster. "Getting so fucking tight around me. Gonna come for me, aren't you, baby?"

Your mind was gone. You couldn't focus on anything but the feeling of him inside you, stretching you, filling you, owning you. "J-Jungkook..." you slurred, your head falling back against his chest, "please make me come, baby, pleasepleasepleaseeee."

Jungkook's arms tightened around your trembling body, and in one quick motion, he sat back in his office chair, pulling you down into his lap. You cried out as his hands hooked under the back of your knees, planting his feet on the ground and spreading your legs wide, completely open, and facing the see-through fucking doors.

He didn't give you a second to breathe before he started pounding into you again, his fat cock hitting so deep at the new angle that your body shook uncontrollably. You couldn't even hear your own cries—just the wet, obscene slapping of skin and Jungkook's gorgeous groans in your ear.

"Rub your fucking clit," he commanded, his voice thick with urgency. "Come. Now, Y/N. Fucking come."

Your hand flew to your clit, trembling fingers rubbing furiously, slipping because you were so fucking wet. "Jungkook," you gasped, voice breaking, tears pouring down your cheeks.

"No, baby, f-fuckkk, I'm sor—" You couldn't stop the sobs, your body convulsing as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside you. "Jungkook, I'm—I'm so sorry, ahhhh fuckkk! I-I'm gonna squirt, oh my goddddd!"

"Fuck, yes," he growled, and just as your body started to seize up, his hand shot down, pressing hard on your lower belly and bladder, right where he was buried deep inside you. His hips didn't relent, pounding into you with the same brutal pace.

The pressure on your abdomen made everything inside you snap. Your scream tore through his office as your walls clamped down hard on him, your body shaking violently as your hand trembled, losing its grip on your clit. You came so hard that your hand slipped away entirely, but before the overwhelming release could fade, Jungkook's hand was there, replacing yours instantly. His fingers rubbed your swollen clit with intense pressure, refusing to let you stop.

"Fuckk, look at that fucking pussy, Y/N," he growled as he slapped your pulsing clit over and over. "Keep going, fuck, keep squirting on my fucking dick, baby, holy shittttt."

The filthy command tipped you over the edge again. The sensation was too much, and you started to gush even harder. Wetness sprayed everywhere, soaking his lap, drenching the desk. You were fucking gone.

"Holy fuck," Jungkook choked out at the sight of your cunt gushing out liquid, his hips jerking erratically as his body tensed beneath you. He came hard into the condom with a deep, broken groan, his grip on you tight as he rode out his release, still rubbing your clit with nasty, unrelenting strokes, making sure you didn't stop.

Your body convulsed violently, your legs shaking uncontrollably as he kept rubbing, drawing out every last wave of your orgasm until you were a trembling, sobbing mess. His big hand cupped over your warm pussy, feeling it throb beneath his palm as he slowed his thrusts, easing you through the last shudders of your release.

"My godddd," he growled, his voice raw with awe as he moved his hand and looked down at the mess you'd made. Your quivering pussy, glistening and red, his slacks drenched, the chair wet, and even some paperwork on the desk soaked through.

Fuck, he groaned internally. He's obsessed.

Your chest heaved as you slumped against him, completely spent, your head falling onto his shoulder. Jungkook’s hands glided up and down your trembling thighs, suppressing the smile tugging at his lips as you buried your face into the crook of his neck, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding you together.

"Well done," he murmured, his lips grazing your forehead before pressing a soft kiss there. You could still feel his heart racing against your skin as you tried to catch your breath.

"Seonsaengnim," you muttered, still panting, "I'm so sorry about your papers—"

"Shut up," Jungkook cut you off with a roll of his eyes, your sudden shift to formalities clearly grating on him. His hands continued their soothing path over your stomach, fingers brushing lightly over the soft skin before he gently adjusted your legs on his lap. His strong thighs kept your feet dangling above the floor, his touch softening as he patted your belly absentmindedly, his voice easing. "It’s alright."

You tried to gather yourself, your mind still spinning. "I haven't done that in a while," you mumbled into his neck, the words slipping out without thought. "God."

Jungkook swallowed hard, suppressing the mix of emotions rising in his chest. Pride at making you feel this way. Anger at knowing someone else had. His jaw clenched briefly before he cleared his throat, forcing a casual hum of acknowledgment. "Good."

He patted your belly a couple more times, as though resetting his focus. "You okay to get dressed?" he asked, his voice slipping into something nonchalant, though the grip on your thighs lingered a moment longer than necessary. "I've got a meeting soon."

You cleared your throat and nodded, feeling a little unsteady as you began to push yourself up from his lap. His hands helped guide you as you stood, and you winced slightly as he slipped out of you, leaving you feeling oddly empty. Your legs wobbled beneath you, but you ignored the sensation, letting your skirt fall back into place. You glanced around the room, searching for your panties.

You crouched down, looking under the chair, then the desk, even flipping through some of the papers on his desk, but there was no sign of them.

"Have you seen my…?" you trailed off, turning to look at him, feeling the confusion settle in as you noticed his casual indifference. Jungkook, now having disposed of the condom, zipped up his slacks with an air of calmness that seemed just a bit too casual for your liking.

You raised a brow, suspicion growing. His expression mirrored yours with a glint in his eyes.

"Where are they?" you asked, narrowing your gaze.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he straightened his shirt. Then, he casually slipped his hands into his pockets, and that's when you caught the faintest flicker of black lace peeking out from one of them.

You scoffed, stepping toward him, but before you could snatch them back, Jungkook caught your hand. He snickered softly as he brought it to his lips, pressing a mocking kiss to your knuckles.

“01J09. Lock the door when you leave, Y/N." His tone was commanding but light as he slipped past you, grabbing his suit jacket as if nothing had happened. He gave you one last look before walking out of the room, leaving you standing in the middle of his messed-up office.

You slumped back into his chair with a huff, quickly adjusting your bra and buttoning your blouse. As you started to tidy the room, you found some disinfectant wipes in a cupboard and began cleaning the desk, trying to distract yourself.

The sound of the door opening behind you startled you, and you quickly turned, assuming Jungkook had returned. But when you locked eyes with your best friend smirking widely at the scene, your stomach dropped.

"You fucking slut!" Jimin shouted, closing the door behind him as he made his way toward you, cupping your face with both hands. His grin was bright, teasing, as he shook his head in disbelief.

"Holy shit! I'm mortified that I just walked past and saw my best friend getting railed by my boss… but I'm also so fucking happy! So, are you staying? Are you guys a thing? How did it happen? Holy fuck—"

"Jiminie," you whined, pulling his hands away and turning back to the desk to finish cleaning, "I'll tell you later. My legs hurt, and we need to get to the meeting—"

"The meeting's over," Jimin interrupted with a snicker, "it's been an hour."

"What the fuck?!" Panic washed over you as you turned to face him, eyes wide.

Jimin just shrugged, still wearing that smug smile. "It's fine, Y/N. I took notes; they're on our shared drive. It wasn't anything important. Definitely not as important as the 'meeting' you were in."

You snorted, tossing the used wipes into the bin and slipping your heels back on as you made your way toward the door, legs still shaky. "Jesus, Jimin, I can barely walk."

"I noticed," Jimin teased, his voice full of amusement. "Want me to carry you?"

"No thanks," you replied quickly, shuddering at the thought. "I'd rather crawl than have anyone see you carry me out of here."

"Are you at least going to the bathroom to fix your hair and makeup?" he asked, eyeing you critically. "You look like you were attacked by a swarm of wasps..."

You groaned. "Yes, Jiminie. I'm going to the bathroom. Now stop pestering me, or you'll be having movie night alone tomorrow."

His smirk softened into a playful smile. "Okay, okay. I'll wait for you in your office."

You waited for him to leave before entering the pin code to lock Jungkook's office door. After hearing the beep and confirming the door was secure, you turned to head toward the bathroom, only to find Jimin still blocking your path, brows furrowed and eyes wide.

"Jimin-ah, move—"

"He gave you the code to his office?" Jimin's voice was serious now, the lightheartedness from earlier gone.

You blinked at him, confused by the sudden shift in his tone. "Yes. Can you please move?"

Jimin didn't budge. His frown deepened as he processed the information. “Y/N… He doesn't just give the code to his office out. To anyone."

Your stomach twisted at his words. "Maybe he'll change it later. He said he had a meeting to go to—"

Jimin shook his head. "He hasn't changed that code since he took over. And… he just canceled his meetings for this afternoon. I thought it was because…"

The sinking feeling in your stomach grew worse. Of course, Jungkook lied and just wanted to leave. What was he supposed to do—sit there and cuddle you? Offer you aftercare? This wasn't new for him. You weren't special. Just another woman in a long line.

You swallowed hard, ignoring the bile rising in your throat. "Jiminie, can I… meet you downstairs? I need to go to the bathroom."

Jimin's expression softened instantly, his hand reaching out to brush some hair from your face before leaning in to kiss your forehead. "Okay, love. I'll get you some water and wait in your office."

You thanked him quietly before heading to the bathroom, locking the door before you leaned heavily against the sink. Staring at your reflection, you sighed at the sight. Your sleek ponytail was merely a distant memory, makeup smeared beyond repair. And there, on your neck, was a deep hickey blooming against your skin.

"Idiot," you muttered to yourself as you turned the tap on, starting to scrub your face clean in attempt to erase every trace of what just happened.

What was happening to you? You never let stuff like this get to you. You'd had more than your fair share of one-night stands, and you knew better than to let them mean anything. It was nothing to him, and it should've been nothing to you.

But god, it felt like so much more than nothing.

"Idiotttt," you muttered again, this time more frustrated. As you aggressively wiped away the mascara and dried tears, your eyes kept drifting back to the hickey. You sighed, knowing you had no makeup to cover it until you got back to your office.

With a huff, you walked toward the toilet and sat down, your hand grazing the mark on your neck while you peed. The memory of his lips still lingered fresh in your mind, and the longer you sat there, the more the reality of it all began to sink in.

Fuck, you groaned internally. You're obsessed.

Jungkook pulled the keys from the ignition, stepping out of his car and adjusting the collar of his suit jacket when it shifted out of place. The door clicked shut behind him as he locked the Mercedes, casually slipping his phone into his pocket—right next to your panties, still snug in the black fabric of his slacks.

When he reached the reception desk, a fake redhead sat behind it, focused on a stack of paperwork. She didn’t notice him at first, not until the sound of his footsteps caught her attention. The moment her eyes met his, Jungkook noticed the way she straightened in her seat, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Oh, hello,” she greeted, her voice sweet but dripping with an attempt at seduction. “Welcome to Jang Merriott. How can I be of service?”

Jungkook swallowed the grimace threatening to surface, but his lips curved into that fake, charming smile he’d perfected for work events. “Hi, darling.” His voice was smooth, just the right amount of warmth. “I’m here for a business meeting, but I’m so silly...” He leaned in slightly, watching her eyes widen. His voice dropped to a lower, more intimate tone. “I forgot which room it’s in. Think you could help me?”

His eyes flicked to her nametag—Cho Minju—and when he looked back, he could practically see her mind spinning. “I-I…” she stammered, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Do you have the name of the—”

“Lee Dohyun,” Jungkook answered easily, not missing the way she gulped when he added softly, “Thank you, baby.”

“L-Lee Dohyun,” she echoed nervously, typing the name into the system with shaky fingers. Then she paused, biting her lip. “I, um… I really shouldn’t if you aren’t—if you’re not on the guest list…”

“It would really help me out, Minju-yah,” Jungkook murmured, his voice taking on a softer, boyish edge. His brows furrowed just slightly as he leaned in a touch more, looking at her through his lashes. “If I’m late, Dohyun-seonsaengnim will kill me… I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Her wide eyes blinked up at him, her lip caught between her teeth. He could see the internal battle playing out in her head—protocol versus the hot guy in front of her. Predictably, protocol lost.

“Floor 13, room 304,” she whispered, her cheeks flushed.

“Thank you, baby,” Jungkook replied with a charming smile, slipping a hundred-dollar bill into her tip jar before walking toward the elevator. Minju’s breath caught again as he turned and walked toward the elevator, not looking back once.

As the elevator doors slid shut with a soft chime, Jungkook’s facade dropped, and he let out a small, amused scoff. He thought that was going to cost him at least a couple grand.

The elevator hummed softly as it ascended. When the monotone voice announced floor 13, the doors slid open, revealing a quiet, plush carpeted hallway. Jungkook strode out, his eyes narrowing slightly as he made his way to room 304.

“Jungkook-seonsaengnim?” Dohyun’s voice cracked in surprise when he opened the door, eyes widening at the unexpected sight of his boss. “I’m on leave, sir, is everything oka—”

The words barely left his mouth before Jungkook’s fist connected sharply with the side of his jaw. The force of the blow sent Dohyun crashing to the ground, his head snapping back as he sprawled out, half-dangling outside the doorway. His feet splayed awkwardly on the floor, barely moving. Jungkook nudged his limp body inside with the toe of his polished shoe, stepping over him as he calmly closed the door behind him with a soft click.

“Everything’s fine, Dohyun.” Jungkook’s voice was casual, almost too calm, as he crouched down to level his gaze with the man on the floor. Dohyun was clutching his jaw, eyes wide with terror, blinking back tears as he struggled to sit up. Confusion mixed with fear spread across his face, trembling as he tried to find his words.

Jungkook tilted his head, a slow, cold smirk pulling at his lips. "Great, actually," he continued, the menace in his voice unmistakable. His eyes flickered over the man on the ground as if he were nothing more than something to be dealt with. “And it’ll be even better in a second.”

TODAY

The soft click of heels against tile echoed down the pristine hall of level nineteen. Jimin and Hobi were either side of you, all three of you deep in conversation about Jimin's latest epic love saga.

“And afterward, we went and got ice cream,” Jimin sighed, a dreamy smile spreading across his lips. “And he even paid for my cone. I think he’s the one.”

You and Hobi shared a knowing look before turning back to him. Hobi giggled, shaking his head, while you leaned your head on Jimin’s shoulder, smiling warmly. “I’m sure he is, honey. Was it at least a double scoop?”

Jimin beamed, nodding enthusiastically, but his excitement faltered the second he caught the teasing smirks plastered on your and Hobi’s faces. His expression morphed into a pout as he narrowed his eyes at the both of you.

"Whatever. Just because you—" Jimin shot a pointed look at Hobi, "—don’t sleep with anyone more than once because of your deep-rooted commitment issues, and you—" he turned his accusing gaze to you, "—have found the only person in Seoul as crazy and fucked up as you to spend the rest of your life with, doesn’t make Min Yoongi any less of a perfect prince."

Hoseok grunted, crossing his arms dramatically as you broke into laughter. "You're not wrong," you hummed with a shrug, right as Hobi muttered defensively, "I don't have commitment issues."

It was Hobi’s turn to receive knowing looks from both of you before he sighed, dramatically slowing his pace as you reached the entrance of the meeting room. "Whatever, you guys suck."

Snickering softly, the three of you stepped inside, bowing politely to the handful of executives already seated around the large meeting table. As usual, the three of you were early, but you noticed that a few others had already claimed their seats. Unfortunately, there weren’t three consecutive spots left for you all to sit together.

Your gaze immediately went to the head of the table, the seat reserved for the CEO, which was still empty. You knew Jungkook was in a meeting with Kim Namjoon that had run overtime, so their arrival was indefinitely delayed.

The seat closest to the CEO’s chair—Namjoon’s usual spot—was unoccupied, but the one on the opposite end, typically claimed by you, Jimin, or Hobi, was already taken. You felt your blood boil when you saw Heejin, the newly appointed temp head of Communications while Sana Minatozaki was on maternity leave, sitting there comfortably, scrolling through a document on her laptop.

Jimin caught your eye, noticing Heejin as well, and gestured toward the chair next to her, silently offering it to you. You just shook your head, flashing a small smile as if to say, no fucking thanks. He and Hobi settled into two seats beside each other, leaving you to scan the rest of the room for an available spot.

Your options weren’t great.

A middle seat between Hailey and Vernon—two relentless chatterboxes from levels three and four—caught your eye. You grimaced immediately at the thought of being dragged into their non-stop, ping-pong conversation about god knows what. They could probably talk about fucking office supplies for hours if given the chance.

Then your gaze shifted to the next option: a seat next to Kang Minho, the scruffy finance head. As expected, he was already twirling a cigar between his fingers, his eyes twitching in clear defiance of the new no-smoking rule in meetings. The urge to light it was practically vibrating off him.

You sighed.

That left the only bearable choice: a seat next to Oh Sehun, the head of Technology and Innovation. He was known to be quiet and professional, and most importantly, he's least likely to annoy you.

Resigned, you pulled the chair next to Sehun, placing your laptop and phone on the table in front of you. He glanced over with a polite smile, nodding in greeting. You returned the gesture, settling into your seat and immediately focusing on starting up your laptop.

The room settled into a quiet lull, with only a few hushed conversations breaking the silence. Most of the attendees were either finishing up side discussions or preparing for the meeting as they trickled in. As your laptop booted up, you instinctively picked up your phone, slipping it under the table. Your fingers moved quickly, opening the location app and tapping on Jungkook’s name. The pin was still loading when you heard a throat clear beside you.

Oh, here we fucking go.

“Y/N-ssi?”

You locked your phone and turned toward Sehun with a forced smile. "Yes, Sehun-ssi. How can I help?"

His smile widened slightly, a little shy. "Uh, I just wanted to say… congratulations. Your promotion to Head of Operations & Efficiency—it's no small feat. Not an easy title to earn or handle. But I've seen your work, and it's… admirable. Truly."

You almost frowned, caught off guard. That was… really sweet.

"Oh," you replied, your voice softening. "Thank you, Sehun-ssi, that’s very kind of you. I appreciate it a lot." You smiled genuinely this time. "And I’ve heard a lot about you, too. Running your department is also no easy task, and you do it well."

Sehun grinned, his head dipping slightly as his ears turned a bit red. "Ah, thank you so much," he murmured, looking humbled. "I’ve learned a lot from our CEO, Jungkook-seonsaengnim. He’s incredible. One day, I hope to have my own business and run it just like him."

You bit the inside of your lip, warmth swelling in your chest at the compliment to your man. "He is," you agreed softly, your smile a little more private this time. "And I’m sure you will."

Sehun’s lip was caught between his teeth as his eyes seemed to linger just below yours, but before you could say anything else, the sound of footsteps echoed through the room, drawing your attention. You turned toward the entrance.

Jungkook and Namjoon strode into the room, their presence immediately commanding attention. Namjoon greeted the department heads with a dimply smile, but your eyes locked onto Jungkook. His gaze, however, wasn’t on you—it was unwaveringly fixed on Sehun’s reddened face. A flash of something dark crossed his features, and he didn’t spare you or anyone else a glance as he took his seat at the head of the table.

Straightening in your chair, you swallowed the scoff that rose in your throat. He didn’t even acknowledge you, his attention already on the file in front of him as he flipped through it silently. Namjoon’s eyes flickered over Jungkook’s hardened expression before realizing the CEO wouldn’t be opening the meeting. Clearing his throat, Namjoon stood up and took over.

"Good morning, everyone. Glad to see you all here," Namjoon greeted, flashing a bright, toothy smile. The room responded with polite murmurs. "We’ve got a full agenda today, so let’s start with—"

About thirty minutes into the meeting, you were still focused on your notes. Namjoon was wrapping up his discussion on a new marketing campaign strategy that had piqued your interest. You were typing up the last few points when Jungkook’s deep voice suddenly rang out. Your body reacted instantly, muscles relaxing after hearing him finally speak after what felt like hours of his silence.

"Sehun," Jungkook called out, his tone firm and commanding, and your head snapped up instinctively, surprised to find that Sehun had leaned over, perhaps about to whisper something to you while Namjoon was speaking.

"Did you have a question about the campaign strategy?" Jungkook’s voice was measured, but you felt the tension behind it.

Sehun jerked back, startled by the sudden attention. "Oh, I- no, sir, I was just—"

"Conversing with your colleague while your superior was in the middle of speaking," Jungkook finished for him, his dark gaze unwavering, pinning the tech head in place. "I'm sure I’d be more than capable of answering any questions you have regarding the project. Go ahead."

It wasn’t a suggestion—it was an order.

Sehun swallowed nervously, eyes flicking down to his laptop as if it held the answers. Then, foolishly, he glanced at you, probably hoping for some kind of lifeline. You could only offer him an apologetic look, knowing your boyfriend's ways.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched visibly, his irritation evident as he barked out, "Do you need her to speak for you?" His fist tightened on the table beside him, knuckles paling. "Are you that incompetent?"

Your gaze slowly shifted from Sehun, who was visibly shaken, to your boyfriend, who was fucking seething. You sighed softly, dropping your gaze back to your laptop, fingers resuming their typing with a small shake of your head.

And then his voice came again. A little softer, but still pissed. "Did you have something to add, Y/N?"

Your fingers froze mid-typing. The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. You could feel every pair of eyes turning to you. Everyone knew about your relationship with Jungkook. It wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t exactly something you had announced over the firm intercom, either. Most of the department heads were aware and knew better than to draw attention to it, but there were still some, like poor Sehun, who hadn’t quite pieced it together yet.

When you looked up, Jungkook’s dark eyes were locked on you. From your peripheral, you saw Jimin and Hobi exchanging wide-eyed glances, while Heejin’s gaze flickered nervously between you and the CEO.

Every fiber in your bratty being wanted to fight back, make him repeat himself, ask him what the fuck he was trying to prove by putting you on the spot in front of a room full of department heads. But the professional in you won out, forcing you to bite your tongue.

You shook your head calmly. "No, sir." The silence was deafening. You turned to Namjoon, whose eyes were carefully trained on his papers. "My apologies, Namjoon-seongsaengnim," you said. "We didn’t mean to interrupt you. Please, continue."

Namjoon nodded appreciatively, sending you a brief smile before moving on. “Right, as I was saying…”

The meeting finally wrapped up, and everyone began packing up their things. Some were quicker than others to vacate the room, with Kang Minho leading the pack, cigar already halfway to his lips, lighter flicking in agitation.

You closed your laptop with a little more force than intended, irritation still simmering under your skin. Grabbing your jacket off the back of your chair, you stood, feeling Sehun shifting beside you, fumbling to gather his things. You could almost sense the apology hanging on the edge of his lips, and you sighed internally, praying he wouldn’t try and engage in conversation with you again.

Jimin and Hobi walked over, ready to leave, but your attention was drawn to Heejin’s voice as she spoke to Jungkook. Your movements slowed as you listened.

“Thank you for such a great meeting, seonsaengnim,” she said sweetly, her fingers tapping the edge of her laptop.

You clenched your jaw slightly, the inside of your cheek caught between your teeth. Namjoon had handled ninety percent of the presentation—what the fuck was she even thanking him for?

“I actually had a few concerns for the Communications department that I was hoping to run by you—"

"Take them up with your superior," Jungkook replied, not even bothering to glance her way as he slipped his phone into his pocket and made his way toward the door.

Heejin smiled, clearly undeterred as she closed her laptop and followed after him. "But you are my superior," she giggled. Your brows furrowed as you turned to look at her follow after your man like a lost puppy. Your grip on your laptop tightened.

Jungkook sighed, forgetting she had even been promoted recently. Still, he didn’t glance at her. “Make an appointment with one of my assistants, Heejin,” he said, his voice dripping with impatience. “I have somewhere to be. Excuse me, please.”

Excuse me, please? You rolled your eyes. Why doesn't he just tell her to get on her knees and get to work?

Heejin nodded, still all smiles as she left the room, laptop clutched to her chest. You gathered your things and fell into step with Jimin and Hobi. Jungkook paused near the end of the table, his gaze boring into you, but you ignored the stare, slipping between your friends as you headed out.

“Y/N-ssi,” Sehun’s voice cut through the air as he jogged to catch up with the three of you.

You sucked your teeth, glancing down at your watch. Fifteen minutes until your production conference. Enough time to grab something to eat since you’d skipped breakfast—thanks to Jungkook’s insistence on christening yet another room in your new house this morning. The laundry room, this time. And as it turns out, sex on top of a dryer was a lot better and less uncomfortable than you’d expected.

Jimin took your laptop from your hands, giving you a soft smile. "I’ll drop this off at your office. Hobi and I are heading that way."

You nodded in thanks, turning back to Sehun, only to catch Jungkook’s eyes glaring at you from behind the tech leader’s frame. His brows were furrowed, a silent question written all over his face—what the fuck are you doing?

Ignoring your fuming boyfriend, you refocused on Sehun. "You alright?" you asked.

Sehun nodded quickly. "Yeah, I just—" He started to say more but stopped abruptly, his body stiffening as if he could feel Jungkook's glare on the back of his neck. Turning, he blinked, clearly startled to see the CEO still there. "Oh—hi, sir. Once again, I’m so sorry about—"

"It’s okay, Sehun-ssi," you cut him off, drawing his attention back to you. "I need to grab something to eat. Is this important?"

Sehun shifted nervously. "Ah, well... it can wait." His ears were going red again. "How much time do you have? Did you want to stop by the cafe on level 10 before your conference? I was heading there anyway—"

At that, Jungkook’s head snapped up, his gaze zeroing in as he pushed himself off the table. You stepped around Sehun, positioning yourself between him and your clearly furious boyfriend.

"No, thank you, Sehun. I’ll catch you later, okay?" You kept your tone light, ignoring the fact that you had definitely not told him that you were on your way to a conference.

Sehun, still a bit confused, turned slightly to see what had you moving so quickly. And that’s when he saw it—Jungkook’s dark, cold glare burning holes through him. Before Sehun could stutter another word, Jungkook’s eyes flicked down to you, noting the goosebumps on your arms. He grabbed the jacket from your hands and silently made you slip your arms into it.

That’s when the realization hit Sehun like a fucking brick.

His face went ghostly pale, and you could visibly see him swallow nervously. "Oh my god… are you—are you two—"

You nodded simply, sliding your arms into the jacket as Jungkook remained silently brooding behind you.

"I—I am so—sir, I’m so sorry! I would never—"

"Sehun-ssi, it’s fine." You gave him a polite, almost bored smile. "Let's talk later."

Sehun barely managed a shaky nod before he bolted, red-faced and flustered, out of the room.

"You’re such a jealous psycho," you muttered under your breath, turning to face Jungkook, who was still fuming quietly. You puckered your lips for a kiss.

Jungkook just glared, his eyes flicking to your lips for a moment before leaning down to give you a quick, soft peck. You frowned, leaning in for another, but he pulled back, narrowing his eyes at you.

"Why’d you sit there?" he asked, glancing down at your jacket, noticing you hadn’t done up the top two buttons. When he reached to fasten them, you smacked his hand away, refusing to let him make you look like a nun.

"Because your girlfriend was in my usual seat," you shot back, poking him in the stomach before turning on your heel and heading toward the door.

"And I’m the jealous one?" he muttered, flicking the lights off as he followed behind you.

"Yes," you hummed, walking down the now-empty hall, clear of all the departmental seniors and visitors.

You reached the elevator when Jungkook’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind, his head resting comfortably in the crook of your neck. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek as you reached out to press the down arrow.

"That poor boy almost pissed himself because of you."

"I felt like I was very soft on him," Jungkook shrugged, taking a deep inhale of your honey scented skin before pressing a kiss to your neck and standing upright. His hands slipped under your jacket to rest on your belly over your blouse, his fingers grazing your skin gently. "Could’ve been a lot worse."

You chuckled, rolling your eyes, but couldn’t resist the urge to look up at his adorable pout. You puckered your lips again, and this time, he gave in, leaning down for a proper kiss. Spinning in his arms, his hands fell naturally to rest on your ass as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

A soft moan escaped your lips when his tongue slid between them, licking into your mouth in the way only he could. It felt like only milliseconds before the elevator dinged, snapping you back to reality. You reluctantly pulled away, biting his lip gently before spinning around to face the opening doors.

The elevator revealed Kim Namjoon, standing there with his head tilted, eyebrow raised. "Jungkook-ah, the board is waiting. Answer your fuckin' phone, man," the CCO huffed, gesturing for you both to step inside with a hurried wave of his hand.

You smiled at Namjoon and walked into the elevator, Jungkook right behind you. His hand found its way back to your belly, rubbing absentmindedly as you hit the button for level 12.

Namjoon scrolled through something on his phone, snickering. "What time are you planning on getting there tonight, Kook? The RSVP says 6, but they don’t start serving drinks until 8, so I'll be there around 9," he chuckled.

Your ears perked up at the mention of the event. You fiddled with Jungkook’s tattooed fingers on your stomach, glancing up at him as you waited for him to respond.

"For what?" Jungkook asked, not looking up from his phone.

You almost frowned at his response. He already told you he had a sponsorship function tonight. Jungkook never forgets things like that.

Namjoon barely glanced up. "That promo celebration for the girl taking over for Sana-ssi?" He explained, locking his phone and leaning back. "Shit, I forgot if we need to bring gifts. I'll check with my assistant—"

You didn’t hear anything after that. Everything faded, the muffled sounds of the elevator blending together like white noise. Jungkook’s hand stiffened against your stomach, and that was all the confirmation you needed.

He hadn’t gotten his schedule mixed up. He knew damn well what event Namjoon was referring to. The "sponsorship function" was actually a celebration for that dirty slut from level 7, and that dirty slut from level 7 had gotten a permanent promotion, which would bring her even closer when fucking working with him.

The elevator doors slid open, and without a second thought, you shoved Jungkook’s hand off you and stormed out.

"Baby," Jungkook was immediately on your tail, ignoring Namjoon’s confused calls from behind.

"Wh— Jungkook-ah? What the fuck? Where are you going?"

"Baby, wait." Jungkook's voice was tense as he caught up to you, but when his hand reached out to grab your arm, you shoved it off aggressively.

"I’m so fucking serious right now, don’t touch me, Jungkook." You spat, whipping around to face him. He just shook his head, trying to step closer, but you put your hand up, keeping him at a distance. "I’m not fucking kidding—"

"Baby, listen to me—" he tried, his voice urgent.

"Get the fuck away from me," you snapped, digging into your pocket for your phone, your fingers trembling as you scrolled through your contacts. "God, you know I fucking hate it when you lie, and you just—" You groaned, your fist tightening around your phone as you shoved his hands off you once again.

"Who are you texting?" Jungkook frowned, trying to get a look at your phone over your shoulder.

"None of your fucking business," you spat, stepping out of his reach.

"Y/N, don't. If you're not going to let me explain—"

"My mom," you snapped sarcastically, your fingers flying across the screen as you started typing. "They finally adapted technology so you can get cell reception six feet underground now. It's great."

Jungkook scoffed, clearly unamused, but he continued following closely behind you as you started walking again. "If you can lie to me, then I can fucking lie to you, right?" you added mockingly.

He tried to grab your phone, but you dodged him, sending the message just in time. His jaw tightened when he saw the screen. "Like hell you’re sleeping at Jimin’s tonight, are you fucking crazy?"

"Well, I’m not staying in a house with a fucking liar, that’s for sure," you shot back, your tone sharp as you moved further away from him.

"You’re not staying at Jimin’s," he repeated firmly, his voice absolute.

His certainty made you laugh bitterly. "I’m staying at Jimin’s or I’m staying at Hyungwon’s. You fucking choose."

Jungkook’s fists clenched at his sides, his face hardening in disbelief. "Why the fuck would you say that, Y/N?"

"I don't have anywhere to go, Jungkook!" Your voice rose, frustration and pain bubbling to the surface. You could feel eyes on you from the staff scattered around the floor, but you didn’t care. "You are my home. I don’t have anywhere else to fucking—"

Jungkook’s expression softened when your voice broke, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. He stepped closer, his hands slipping under your jacket, palms smoothing down your hips. "Then don't fucking go, baby. Just don’t go anywhere, please. Don’t go to Jimin’s." He begged.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you felt the warmth of his hands, the familiar comfort of his body close to yours. His face rested in the crook of your neck, and despite your anger, you found yourself leaning into him slightly, knowing full well that getting to your conference on time now was just a lost cause.

"Tell me why you lied then," you mumbled, your voice quieter, your sniffles betraying you.

Jungkook pulled back, his thumbs swiping gently under your eyes, wiping the tears away before they could fully form. His fingers brushed under your nose as he wiped away the dribble there. "Because I knew it would upset you. We’ve been doing so well in our new place, baby—I didn’t want anything to ruin it." His voice was soft, almost pleading. "I’m so sorry, Y/N. I was only going to make an appearance and come home straight away."

You studied his face, your own expression softening despite the anger still bubbling inside you. You understood him, you really did. But you still hated when he lied. "Then why didn’t you just ask me to go with you?" Your voice wavered, doubt creeping in despite yourself. "Did you... not want to be seen with me?"

You didn’t even know where the self-doubt was coming from. Jungkook loved you. He loved letting people know you were his. He didn’t care who was around when he kissed you or rested a hand on your body, claiming you without shame. But something about Heejin… She got under your skin in a way that you couldn’t describe. Maybe it was because she’d been here longer, known him longer. She was going to be in meetings with him now—department head meetings, one-on-one meetings. The thought alone made you feel sick.

Jungkook sighed, his hands cupping your cheeks, and pressed two quick, soft kisses on your lips. "Don’t say dumb shit like that," he murmured, his voice soft but firm. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. "I wanted to have a joint office, but you said that was unprofessional or whatever." He rolled his eyes, giving you a little smirk.

You blinked, hugging your arms around yourself, stepping back a little. "Then why?" Your voice was quieter now, laced with the confusion and hurt you couldn’t hide. "Why didn’t you want me to go? I’ve gone with you to plenty of functions."

Jungkook hesitated, and you felt the tension settle back into the air between you. His silence weighed heavy, and that familiar twist of anxiety and anger began to gnaw at you again.

"It’s because of Hyungwon, isn’t it?" you asked, even though you already knew the answer. "You didn’t want me to go because people from his firm are going to be there, and he could be too, right?"

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his eyes hardening slightly as he averted your gaze. He didn’t need to say anything. His silence confirmed everything.

You let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking your head. Not only did he keep you away from a party celebrating the one woman you couldn’t stand the most when it came to him, but he also made sure you didn’t go because of the one man he had a problem with the most when it came to you was attending.

"Fucking hypocrite," you muttered, stepping further back from him, your stomach turning in disgust.

"Baby, it’s not like that—" he started, his tone filled with urgency.

"Then what is it like, Jungkook?" Your voice rose again, frustration spilling out as you threw your hands up. "You didn’t tell me about the party because you knew it would piss me off that it’s for Heejin. But you also didn’t want me to go because there was a chance Hyungwon could be there! So, what? I can’t go because you have a problem, but I’m supposed to sit at home and wait for you like a fucking housewife while you go to a party for a bitch that you know I can’t stand? How the fuck does that make sense?"

Jungkook’s face was a mixture of guilt and frustration. He took a step toward you, but you held up your hand again, stopping him in his tracks.

"God, can you just go away?" you spat, your voice trembling slightly as you felt the tears begin to well up again. Shaking your head, you started to walk away.

"Baby," Jungkook grunted, his frustration growing as he followed you.

"No, Jungkook. I need space. Seriously." You didn’t even turn around, your voice sharp as you neared your office.

"We don’t do space. That’s not how we work," he argued, right behind you.

"Well, maybe we need to start doing space," you snapped, reaching for the door handle.

Before you could pull the door open, Jungkook grabbed your wrist, spinning you around to face him. His eyes were intense, wild, like he was barely keeping himself together. "If you keep walking away from me, I'm going to follow you into that conference room and make you sit in my fucking lap during your entire presentation."

The seriousness in his voice made you want to roll your eyes, but you kept your expression blank, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched when you didn’t answer, but he didn’t stop. "I can’t have you two in the same room, Y/N." His voice was low, almost dangerous, as if just saying Hyungwon’s name triggered something in him.

You just blinked, still silent.

“If I see him anywhere near you, I’ll kill him.” Jungkook said it simply, like it was just another fact. “I wouldn’t regret it. But they probably won’t let you stay in my cell with me, would they, baby?” His brows furrowed, head tilting as he asked, like he was genuinely curious to know the answer.

a/n i cut it here because the rest is nawttt edited at all and very rough 😬 but any takers on a part 3 ??!!?! just give me 6 months and it's all yours xx

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triptuckers · 5 months ago

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kissing it better - logan howlett

Request: nope Pairing: logan howlett x reader Summary: based on this post by @sarahsmi13s Warnings: nothing but tooth rotting fluff ugh I love logan Word count: 1K A/N: this post… yes.. also logan deserves some soft love <3 enjoy!

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slow, domestic mornings with logan are few and far in between. it’s why you cherish every one you get.

life in the mansion is hectic, to say the least. even if you would take away everyone’s mutant abilities, there’s still a couple of dozen kids with a lot of energy swarming the place.

but you wouldn’t have it any other way. you’d been one of those kids once. unsure of your place in the world, scared, not knowing who you could trust.

like many young mutants, you caused chaos and pain when your mutation manifested. your own parents were afraid of you. and then the professor showed up at your house and told you about his school.

you’ve spent many years here now, teaching the children while also being a member of the x-men. you finally have a place where you belong, where you feel safe and at home. where you have friends and family who care about you.

meeting logan was only the cherry on top.

from the moment you met him, you’d been curious about him. one day you were teaching your class as usual, the next moment there was a guy with anger issues and adamantium claws in your classroom.

at first you were stunned, as were the students, but you introduced yourself and told him to take a seat once he explained the professor thought it was a good idea for him to know what life at the mansion would be like.

ever since, he’s been sitting in on a lot of your classes. you thought it was because he was interested in the topics, but later on he confided in you that your voice and presence soothe him.

after that conversation, logan was around you often. to learn about the mansion, he said, but you knew better.

the more time you spent with him, it became obvious he came to you when he needed to calm down. he didn’t need you to talk to him, just needed to be near you.

sometimes you would talk. it was mostly you who did the talking, though. you told him about your childhood, how you met the professor, your time at the mansion as a kid, teasing scott about jean when you were a teenager. and then you told him about the missions you went on with your fellow x-men, the classes you taught the children, how they continued to surprise you every day.

and slowly, as logan started to trust you more, he told you about his life. what it was like years ago, what he went through. you wanted logan to open up to you on his own, but you couldn’t deny you were curious about him and his life. sometimes you couldn’t help it.

you were cradling one of his hands, taking a closer look at his knuckles as you sat on the edge of your desk. the classroom was empty, the students long gone. but logan was still there

you feel logan’s gaze on you, but you continue to study his hand. turning his hand over in yours, examining it.

‘you really can just get them out whenever you want?’ you ask him.

‘yeah.’ says logan.

‘can I see them?’

logan briefly hesitates. no one’s ever asked him that. most people who have seen his claws up close didn’t live to tell the story. but you’re being so gentle with him, he does as you ask.

you drop your hands as he pulls his arm away slightly. then he slowly lets his claws come out. you watch as the skin between his knuckles splits as the adamantium blades slice through.

you briefly look up to logan and notice how he clenches his jaw slightly.

‘does it hurt?’ you ask him. ‘when they come out?’

logan looks down at you. at this fellow x-men, a teacher, a lover. no one has ever been this patient and gentle and loving with him.

‘every time.’ he says, looking at the way you’re holding his hand.

it had been a long time since logan had slept in his own room. what few belongings he had, he added to your room. but because the mansion life was a busy life, you rarely get to enjoy each other’s presence like this.

logan is still asleep. his breath tickles the back of your neck. one of his arms is lazily swung over your body, the other beneath your head. you love waking up like this, safe in his embrace.

you reach out and softly run your fingers over his knuckles. it’s remarkable how fast his skin heals.

your touch wakes logan, who stirs behind you. now that he’s awake, you turn around in his arms so you can bury your face in his neck. logan pulls you closer, wanting to go back to sleep.

he feels how you take a hold of his hand and move it. then he feels something on his knuckles. he opens his eyes and sees you pressing soft kisses to the skin between his knuckles, right where the tips of his claws rest beneath his skin.

logan has never been the romantic type. but he swears he feels his heart burst with the amount of love he feels for you. you’ve kissed him before, obviously. but not like this, not on his knuckles.

‘what are you doing?’ he asks, voice still laced with sleep.

you briefly look up at him before you move to get a hold of his other hand, bringing it up to your lips.

‘you said it hurts every time they come out.’ you explain. ‘I’m kissing it better.’

logan’s lips part in surprise, before smiling at you.

‘you’re gonna do this every time they come out?’ he says.

you nod. ‘yes. you said it hurts every time. so I’ll kiss it better every time.’

‘you’ll be busy for the rest of your life, then.’

‘that’s okay. I don’t plan on going anywhere.’

logan leans in and presses a soft kiss against your lips. with his forehead against yours, he drifts off to sleep again. feeling the occasional kiss against his knuckles.

A/N: thanks for reading! everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. please do not copy, translate, plagiarise or repost my work! some of these are requested by other people and I spend a lot of time and effort on my works <3 much love, marit

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msmk11 · 6 months ago

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Best Friend’s Mom

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy’s best friend)

Part one | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

Word count: 5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends’ mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, consumption of alcohol, mention of absent parent, light smut

Summary: You get invited to spend spring break with your best friends Tommy and Billy Maximoff and their mother, Wanda. But Wanda is not just any mom you soon discover. She’s a MILF. And god do you want her badly. Only in your wildest dreams could she ever be attracted to you too- or so you think.

A/n: It’s finally here per your votes on my poll! This is only part one of (probably) two however. A) I’ve never written for Wanda before so I’m having a harder time saying what I need to succinctly. B) I have the fattest crush on Wanda so perhaps this is just my rambles. I hope you enjoy!!

When your twin best friends Billy and Tommy had invited you on their beach family vacation over spring break, you had obviously said yes. The thoughts of sand between your toes, the warm sun on your skin, and the calming crash of the waves sent a shiver of excitement down your spine every time you thought of it. Of course, you were also just excited to spend time with your best friends, but the beach was at the forefront of your mind. Though your daydreams had already crafted a vision of perfection for this trip, the reality, surprisingly, far exceeded it. This was all thanks to one sinfully sexy Ms. Maximoff.

From the early budding of your friendship, you knew that Billy and Tommy adored their mother- especially since their father had left them all behind at a young age. Their descriptions made her seem sweet, loving, and remarkably kind. While your first introduction certainly reassured these claims, it was her beauty that struck you. Perhaps in your head you had imagined someone a little more….motherly looking… rather than the mortal goddess before you. With the way her auburn hair fell down past her shoulders in waves, her blue skinny jeans hugged the curve of her waist just right, and her soft, pink lips were always adorned with a smile, you were certain she was the most beautiful woman you’d ever seen.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

When you, Billy, and Tommy pull up to the beach house in their small gray sedan and a redheaded woman, who you assume to be their mother, comes out, you are dumbfounded to say the least. Before her boys can even get their luggage from the trunk, she sweeps each into a bearhug and exclaims, “hello moya lyubov!”

Their unconvincing protests fall on deaf ears as she continues to smother them in love. You’re sure to tease them about it later.

When Ms. Maximoff breaks away from Billy and Tommy, she turns her attention to you and smiles sweetly. As she makes her way towards you, your heart begins to beat quickly as you realize how beautiful she is.

“Hello, dear,” she greets, “Billy and Tommy have told me all about you.”

Before you can respond, she too pulls you in for a hug. The burn of her touch, even through your shirt, is almost too much to bear, and her flowery perfume that fills your nostrils makes your head feel all woozy.

As she pulls away you can feel your cheeks burning and you try to act calm despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Maximoff, and thank you for letting me stay with you all this week.”

“Oh honey, no. Please don’t call me Ms. Maximoff, it makes me feel old. Wanda is just fine. And the pleasure is all mine, really. I’ve been eager to meet you ever since you became friends with my boys at the start of college.”

“Well, I’ve uh- been eager to meet you too. Billy and Tommy speak very highly of you.”

Wanda nearly coos as she turns to her sons brightly, “Awe moya lyubov, you two are too sweet.”

Your best friends flush red with embarrassment and the glares they shoot you as their mother hugs them again let you know they’ll berate you later for making them “look uncool.” Finally, Wanda pulls away and she urges you all to grab your stuff and follow her into the house.

Once inside, Billy and Tommy kick off their shoes haphazardly and start down the hall to the bedroom they’re sharing (so you can have a room to yourself). You, conversely, slip your shoes off gently and leave them by the door neatly. Wanda waits by your side and then motions for you to follow her once you’re done.

On your way to your room, Wanda gives you a mini tour. You pass through the small kitchen with light wooden floors, white cabinets, and seafoam blue walls. The living room is similarly beachy and charming, with big glass doors opening onto a wooden porch in the back and a smattering of brightly colored furniture organized around the room. At the end of the hall from the living room sits three doors, each leading into a separate room.

“Here we go, honey. Your room is this door on the left, the bathroom is the door in front of us, and my bedroom is here on the right. I hope you don’t mind being my neighbor and sharing a bathroom with me, but I figured it’d be better for the boys to have the master this week since they’re sharing a space,” Wanda tells you.

“No of course not Ms. M- Wanda. I feel bad that Billy and Tommy have to share, though. I honestly don’t mind sleeping on the couch!”

Wanda reacts as though you’ve just slapped her, “Oh honey, no! I’d never make a guest sleep on the couch! I want to make this place as comfortable for you as possible. Plus, the boys will be just fine. They spent the first half of their lives sharing a room, they’ll manage.”

You chuckle a little and smile kindly at her, “Well, thank you, seriously, I appreciate it.”

She waves her hand as if it’s nothing and then motions for you to go see your room, “I’m going to go finish up dinner honey, but let me know if you need anything.”

Wanda saunters off down the hall and you curse her for even walking sexily. Shaking yourself out of a daze, you go inside your room and promptly shut the door behind you. You drop your bag on the floor and then throw yourself on top of the fluffy, blue comforter, groaning into the mattress. You really hope you can survive this trip.

*****

It seems you must’ve fallen asleep on the comfy bed that feels more like a cloud, because suddenly you are jostled awake by a body landing on top of you. You let out an oomph as the air is expelled from your lungs and the weight of Tommy’s body settles on top of you.

“Tommy, you big lug,” you groan, “get off of me.”

You push the boy off of you and he rolls onto his back, “Had to wake you up somehow, you freak. I kept prodding you and nothing happened besides your continued snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” You protest, propping yourself up on your elbow and looking at him.

“Do too” he teases, “mouth open and all.” He then opens his mouth dramatically and lets out an obnoxiously loud snore.

You smack his stomach a little and he groans. In retaliation, he sweeps your elbow out from under you, forcing you to fall flat on your back again.

“Prick,” you grumble.

“Hey you should be a lot nicer to me, you know. I could’ve left you here to sleep and starve.”

You sit up and rub the sleep from your eyes, “I doubt your mom would allow that.”

The brunette snorts, “Touché.” He stands up and nods his head towards the door, “let’s go eat.”

You and Tommy make your way down the hall to the kitchen, playfully teasing and shoving each other a little on the way. When the longer-haired brother gives you an especially playful push into the kitchen, you nearly fall right in front of Wanda. You’re a little more than embarrassed, so you try to hide your face from her by turning back towards Tommy and glaring. He’s smirking until he’s not- when Wanda gently chides him for “being rude to the guest.”

“Mom she’s our friend, she can take it,” Tommy reminds her.

“Plus,” you add, “I can take either of them, easily, any day. I was just caught off guard there.”

“Really now?” Billy challenges.

You hum in confirmation.

“Fine, then I suggest a game of chicken after dinner.”

“Who’d be our fourth player?” you ask, confused.

“I will,” Wanda answers with a slight smirk, “I love a good challenge. And I’d love to see you beat my boys.”

“Oh you’re so on, Mom,” Tommy answers with a grin.

The twins look at each other with evil, cocky smirks on their face, and you can tell that they’re confident they’re going to win. You look at Wanda nervously because a) you don’t want to lose to the twins and b) you don’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of her. Her confident smirk, however, so similar to her sons, eases your fears just a little.

They come storming back after dinner, however, when you first see Wanda in a bikini. Though you wouldn’t say it’s skimpy by any means, for goodness sake she’s around her sons, it still certainly shows a lot of skin. The butterflies are beating around aggressively in your stomach as you admire the red swimsuit she’s wearing- the color compliments her skin tone so very well, the top shows just enough cleavage to leave something to the imagination, and the bottoms hang low on her hips, flaunting her soft, white stomach.

You become even more nervous when you realize that you are going to have to sit on top of Wanda’s shoulders. While Billy and Tommy jump into the pool, you cautiously discard your towel on a chair and turn to Wanda, “I didn’t even think about the fact that I’d have to be on your shoulders. We can just call off the game, I’ll probably be too heavy for you.”

The redhead shakes her head and chuckles, stepping a little closer to you, “Honey, I know how chicken works. I wouldn’t have offered to play if I didn’t think I could carry you. I’m a lot stronger than I look, you know.”

You want to believe her, but you are just so nervous about hurting her that you can only weakly smile and nod.

“Hey, are we playing chicken, or are you two too chicken?” Billy calls out mockingly.

“Oh we’re more than ready, boys,” Wanda answers confidently, hands on her hips.

She walks forward and slides down into the pool, the turquoise water riding up to her waist. She beckons you over to the edge, “I’ll stand here and you can hop on, since I know you’re a little nervous about getting on my shoulders.”

You take a deep breath and nod. Wanda turns around and you step forward. Tentatively, you hook one leg over her right shoulder and her hand immediately comes up to grab your thigh. You tense at the skin to skin contact and it sends a little shiver up your spine. Thankfully, Wanda can’t see your face, so she hopefully just assumes that you're nervous about getting on her shoulders and not for….. other….. reasons.

“You’ve got it, honey,” She encourages you sweetly.

You quickly lift your other leg up and hook it around her left shoulder. She grabs your other thigh tightly and squeezes it, as if reassuring you.

Problem one million- Wanda being this strong is really hot, adding to your already insanely high level of attraction towards her. You fear you might pass out on the spot.

“Good to go?” The redhead asks you softly, craning her neck a little to look up at you. Her green eyes are soft but determined and they send a surge of confidence through you, “Yes, I’m ready to take them down.”

Wanda easily wades through the water over to Billy and Tommy, who have situated themselves with Tommy as the anchor and Billy on top. You look your opponent in the eye and smirk, sending him a playful glare, “You’re on, Maximoff.”

Billy only scoffs at you cockily and then waves you forward, challenging you to go up against him. Wanda and Tommy move in towards one another and you stick your arms out, bracing for Billy’s attack. He comes in swinging, bringing his right arm down to your side trying to shove you off. You are braced for it, though, and Wanda’s strong grip keeps you in place. You retaliate by grabbing his wrists, simultaneously trying to keep him from hitting you and also jostle him around. After a few seconds of back and forth, Billy rips his left arm free, the force causing you to wobble a little.

“I got you, honey,” Wanda calls up to you when she hears the sharp breath you take.

You shake it off and head towards Billy with double the amount of determination. Letting go of his other wrist, you go for the shoulders and give him a hard shove. This alone does not push Billy off of Tommy’s shoulders. However, the former twin’s movement throws the latter twin off balance, sending them plummeting backwards into the water. They land with a loud splash and you and Wanda cheer loudly. When the boys come up for air they are spluttering and groan at your victory.

“You two are stronger than you look,” Tommy concedes.

“Never underestimate your mother,” Wanda chides teasingly. She then looks up at you, “do you want me to take you back over to the edge to hop off?”

Your newfound victory, especially with Wanda on your team, has caused your confidence to soar. You shake your head, “No that’s okay, you can just drop me in the water.”

The redhead smiles sweetly, “If you insist.”

Before you have a second to think, she is lurching backwards, sending you both crashing into the water just as the twins had. The water is much colder than you anticipated and it overcomes your senses as you flail around. When you breach the surface you let out a gasp of air and shake the water from your eyes, “Holy fuck that’s cold!” you shout, then immediately cringe for cursing in front of Wanda.

Luckily she only chuckles, an evil glint in her eye, “You asked to be thrown in, honey. I was only doing what you asked.”

“A little warning would have been nice,” you answer with a playful pout.

She only laughs again, her head thrown back a little, and it’s quite the sight to see.

*****

The next morning, you wake to soft, yellow sunbeams falling across your face. The sound of gentle waves can be heard just slightly through your window at the back of the house and you sigh contentedly. You could get used to this. After laying sprawled across your bed for an undetermined amount of time, you finally decide it’s time to get up. You wander down the hall into the kitchen, on the hunt for food, and find Wanda sitting at the kitchen table, book in one hand, coffee in another, clad in a silk, white slip nightgown.

“Good morning, honey. Did you sleep well?” She asks sweetly.

“Like a baby.”

“I’m glad to hear it. What can I make you for breakfast?” Wanda asks, already rising from her chair.

“Oh, Wanda, no. Please. You don’t need to make anything. I can just snack on something for the pantry. I don’t usually have much for breakfast anyways.”

Wanda tsks at you and waves you off, “Well that just won’t do honey. It’s more important than ever for you to fuel your body at this age- what with all the studying, busy work schedules and… other things.”

Wanda winks at you then and you choke on your spit a little. Had she just implied…? No, she couldn’t have. But…

“Yes, well, school and work keep me busy enough to not have time for other things, Wanda. And I make up for a light breakfast with more filling meals later.”

It seems as though Wanda ignores the latter fact as she asks how you like your eggs and pulls out a frying pan.

“Well, honey, I really can’t believe what you’re saying. Someone as beautiful and sweet as you must be overwhelmed with social obligations- parties, friends, dating.”

You try to hide the blush on your cheeks from Wanda’s flattery, “No really, Wanda, I don’t have all that many. And I’m happy with my small group of friends.”

“You know,” Wanda starts, turning towards you as the eggs cook, resting her back against the counter, “I have to ask, and I hope you’ll excuse me for wondering, but I wanted to know if you were seeing or were interested in one of my boys. You just seem awfully close and I can’t help but wonder…”

You burst out in laughter at the heinous suggestion and Wanda’s eyebrows raise in bewilderment, “Oh god, no. Never in a million years would I date them.”

Wanda purses her lips and you realize how that sounded, “Please don’t take that the wrong way, Wanda. You’ve raised such lovely boys, you know. And I love them dearly, but not like that. They’re like my brothers. And even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t go for them. Or any guy for that matter… I like women.”

All the confusion and maybe even a little defensiveness drains from Wanda’s face at your confession and she visibly relaxes. She turns back to the eggs and picks up the pan, “I see. Well, the boys are grateful to have you in any way they can.” She walks over and sets the plate down in front of you, “And that makes me pretty grateful too.”

As she stays behind you, Wanda tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and you shiver.

“Thank you, Wanda.”

“My pleasure, Detka.”

*****

The tension is so thick it is unbearable as you sit on a chair across from Wanda. At this point, you know it isn’t hot enough outside for you to be feeling this flushed. Rather, the way Wanda keeps looking over at you not so sneakily as she nurses her wine is leaving you all hot and bothered. When she takes another sip you are entranced by the way her soft, red lips wrap around the rim of the glass. And when she pulls the cup away, a drop of the wine is still on her lips. You nearly gasp as her tongue darts out, seemingly in slow motion, to lick it up. At this point, you know your staring is obvious, but Wanda just looks so pretty in that sundress, and one too many glasses of wine has left you feeling a little reckless.

“Want another sip?” Wanda muses teasingly, pointing the glass towards you.

“Oh no, I’m okay, Wanda, thank you.” You answer softly.

“Come on detka,” she says huskily, “just come have one more sip. I don’t think I can finish it alone.”

Really, you can never say no to this woman, so you oblige, standing from your chair and walking over to sit down next to her. Her perfume wafts over you as she leans in and hands you the glass, and you feel woozy.

You take a sip of what little wine is left in the glass and swallow as Wanda watches you the whole time. You turn to the redhead and hand her the glass. She sets it on the table without once breaking eye contact with you.

“Oh Detka, you have a little drop of wine on your lip. Let me get that right-“

She reaches out and cups your cheek. Instead of wiping it away with her thumb like you think she will, she leans in and captures your bottom lip between your own. She sucks on it softly and you nearly moan. Before you can really process what’s happening, she’s pulled away, a knowing smirk on her face, “There baby, all better now.”

“W-Wanda- I.” You stutter.

“Hmm?” She asks, sickeningly sweetly.

“Can you do that again?”

“Do what again, baby?”

You almost whine at her teasing, “Kiss me, Wanda. Please.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she whispers, already pressing her lips to yours again.

You sigh deeply as the flame rekindles in your belly and your heart beats faster. Your kisses are fast and sloppy, your tongues battling for dominance. Keeping your lips on hers you shuffle, straddling your legs on either side of her lap as you wrap your arms around her shoulders.

Wanda groans and grabs your hips tightly, digging her nails into the slight bit of bare skin showing as your shirt rides up.

She tastes like chocolate strawberries and wine and you chase her lips like you’ve been starved for days. Wanda just smells so good, and feels so good, and tastes so good that you’re insatiable. Unknowingly, you rock your hips a little, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through you at the friction between your legs. You moan into her mouth and try it again, this time rolling your hips more aggressively. Combined with Wanda’s kissing, it feels really good.

“Careful Detka, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Wanda warns lowly.

You pull away suddenly, gasping for air, “Wanda, I want this. I- I want you right now. I need you.”

She looks at you intently, those green eyes both soft and loving while also glazed with lust, “you sure, baby? There’s no going back after this.”

“Please,” you say, this time really whining.

“Start with my thigh,” she orders.

You lean back in and kiss Wanda again like before, but this time with the repeated motion of you humping her thigh, chasing your own pleasure. Wanda’s hands slowly travel down your sides, one stopping to grope at your breasts while the other makes it’s way to cup your ass. The added stimulation to your ass and tits makes you moan into her mouth again.

She pulls away and shushes you quietly, “gotta be quiet, baby. Wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear.”

You nod meekly and bite your lip to keep any more moans from slipping out. Wanda takes the chance to place her lips elsewhere, assaulting your neck and exposed collarbone with bites, licks, and sucking. Before you know it, you feel yourself getting closer to the edge, tension building in your belly. Maybe it’s the pace of your hips, or Wanda just has a sense for these things, but she can tell you’re close. Before you can get there, however,

“Wake up. Stop sleeping the day away.”

You are rather rudely awakened, you think, by Billy. His wet hair drips onto your face as he hovers over you, “Come swim with us and quit being boring.”

“But I’m getting my tan on,” you whine.

“You can do that in the water,” he retorts.

When you don’t make any sign of movement, Billy huffs, “You always have to make things difficult, don’t you?”

Before you can protest, the boy grabs your waist and pulls you up, flipping you over his shoulder.

“Billy,” you screech, “Put me down!!”

He ignores you and starts off towards the ocean. You smack his back and flail your legs but that doesn’t stop him. Before you know it you are met with a blast of ice cold water as he flings you into the salty ocean. When you burst to the surface spluttering you send Billy the biggest glare.

“You’re dead meat Maximoff.”

You quickly wade through the water towards Billy and lunge forward. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and bring him down into the water with you. You’re a mix of flailing limbs under the water. You get an elbow to Billy’s face and him a blow to your stomach before you both swim upwards and gasp for air. Tommy is there, laughing at you both, so you and Billy share a sneaky look before grabbing him by the ankles and pulling him down too.

Though you may have been peeved at Billy for throwing you into the water, it does feel rather nice on your hot skin. It also curbed your rather lusty thoughts of your best friends’ mother. The three of you stay out in the ocean for awhile, play fighting, throwing a football and diving for seashells. It makes you feel like a bit of a kid again, and you notice the recent stress of exams, school, and work fading away.

After a few hours at the beach, the three of you make your way back to the house. You drag your gear- sunscreen, towels, snorkels, and the likes to the back porch and collapse on some of the patio furniture. Tommy wanders inside for a moment and returns with a few beers for you all to share. As you sip and make light conversation, Wanda appears from the house, a tray of snacks in hand.

“How was the beach moya lyubov?” She asks, setting down the tray in front of you three.

“It was great, Mom. You should’ve joined us,” Tommy replies before stuffing a few carrots in his mouth.

She takes the fourth chair, which happens to be next to yours, “I wanted you all to have your fun. Plus, I’ve been to that beach plenty of times.”

“Next time though,” Billy tells her and Wanda smiles a little.

“Yes, next time.”

You reach forward to grab a cracker off the tray, and you’re not unaware of the way Wanda’s eyes follow you. You lean back again and munch happily on your cracker, trying to not be self conscious under the woman’s stare.

Suddenly, Wanda reaches out and pulls on the strap of your bikini top, “I like this swimsuit, honey. Where’d you get it? I’m looking to buy some new suits so I can throw out my old ones.”

Wanda’s deliberate touch excites you, and you keep your legs crossed to hide the way your thighs sort of squeeze together.

“Uh Target, I think. The boys got their trunks there too.”

She hums softly, “It’s so hard to find flattering suits nowadays don’t you think? Either they’re two thin pieces of fabric that cover nothing at all or they’re boxy, ugly one pieces that do no one any favors.”

You groan loudly, “tell me about it. I think Billy and Tommy almost left me behind when we went shopping because of how long I was taking. Not that I blame them, though I told them it’s also not my fault there are so few good options.”

“Mom, one swimsuit had fur,” Billy says with a shudder.

“Another looked like a disco ball,” Tommy adds, “like are you going to the beach or a strip club?”

You all burst out laughing at the sadly true comparison.

“All I can say is that I really was lucky to find this swimsuit.”

And as you lean forward to grab another cracker you swear you hear Wanda mutter under her breath, “Lucky for me too.”

*****

Much of the rest of your afternoon had been spent on that back patio talking, snacking and playing cards. Dinner had been light, and with a few booze in your body you were feeling pretty good. You’d wandered off to shower after dinner, wanting to get the sunscreen and sand off your body. The hot water and soap in your hair feels amazing, and you are appreciative of the privacy to process all of the thoughts and feelings from the day. You still haven't gotten over the comment you are sure Wanda had made earlier. A part of you wonders if you’d just made it up, your horny mind so desperate to believe that she finds you attractive too. But even though it was just above a whisper, the words echo in your mind loud and clear- “lucky for me too”. How could you make that up?

It feels wrong and, frankly, rather inappropriate to pursue your suspicions further. Wanda could’ve meant anything by what she said.

Maybe she was grateful that you bought that swimsuit, so now she knew where to buy hers too?

Maybe she was grateful she didn’t have to be subject to some ugly swimsuit you’d have been forced to wear.

Or maybe. No. You couldn’t even let yourself consider the possibility of Wanda being attracted to you. That would be a bad idea that would only get you in trouble.

You decide there is only one way to solve the problem.

After your shower, you slip out of the bathroom into your room only scantily clad in your small towel. You firmly shut the door behind you and drop your towel, making your way onto your soft bed. You lay on your back, head resting against the pillows, and spread your legs a little. You’ve been desperate to ease the ache between your legs for hours and you can’t wait any longer. You hope that maybe, if you do this, your horniness will dissolve and you can go about your business the rest of your trip happily.

As your hand trails lower between your legs, you sigh at the pressure very much needed to cure the intense ache. It feels good, really, but you only wish it was Wanda’s hand instead of your own. You shut your eyes and your breaths become heavier as you indulge for a moment, imagining that Wanda was here. You think about the way she’d say your name huskily, how her perfume would invade your nose as she held you close, how her fingers would know exactly how to make you feel good, and in no time, you’ve reached your high. Though you try to be quiet, you can’t help the semi-loud pleas of her name that leave your lips as pleasure wracks through your body.

You collapse back against your pillows, panting and your hands at your side. You can only revel in your bliss for a few moments before there is a knock on your door. You scramble up, your heart beating fast in your chest, feeling as if you’d been caught. You throw on your pajama t-shirt at the end of your bed, and it just barely covers your ass. But you figure it will work well enough to answer the door. You rush over and pull it open, and are shocked to find Wanda on the other side.

“Hey, Wanda, what’s up?” You ask breathlessly.

It’s then that you notice how her pupils are dilated, and that she has this look in her eyes. One so reminiscent of your dream.

“You know if you needed help, Detka, you could’ve just asked. I’m more than happy to help someone as pretty as you.”

#the avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda mcu #milf!wanda maximoff #fluff #semi smut

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cathnospam · 1 month ago

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SFW BoyfriendAlphabet for Postimeskip!Katsuki Bakugo

MHACollege AU!Bakugo, Black girlfriend reader in some parts, fluff

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Believe it or not he warms up to affection relatively fast into the relationship I see him as the type that only dated someone he has already known a while so he already had a few moments of affection with you anyway. Opening the door for you subconsciously, saving your ass from villains (or falling because you’re so clumsy), he mostly uses acts of service and quality time to express his affection. Whatever you need/want, boom you got it. Some nights he’ll just come to your dorm to relax and stay quiet for majority of the time. It’s a comfortable silence but you love it because he’ll still be silent watching you play your switch as you lay on his lap.

He may not be a lovely dovey kind of guy but his love is always shown his own way through aggressive words of affection or keeping you close beside him, squeezing your hand/thigh from time to time.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

If anything he gives Childhood friends or Academic rivals to lovers so if he was already your friend as a kid it begins to blossom more throughout middle school, but you couldn’t tell because he was a little shit during that time so it’s not noticeable until high school lmao.

Bakugo as your best friend is like having a hard headed brother/son to take care of. He pretty much took YOU in declaring at a young age you were just his sidekick but here you are damn near his equal, not just in fights or power but academically and supporting one another.

Best friend bakugo is ALWAYS who you can depend on and whether he says it or not he wants you to. He wants to feel needed. Especially by you.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Bro loves to BE held. Only in private though. PDA isn’t his strong suit but when it’s just you both hold that man or he’ll turn into a lil pissy boy.

By pissy I mean giving you the silent treatment or acting passive aggressive until you take charge and grab him into your arms. It’s kinda cute.

He will be more cuddly when he’s tired or feeling uneasy, he still has his panic attacks and moments of overstimulation so he’ll actually hunt you down and if you’re in your dorm in your bed he will move whatever is on your lap and spread your thighs to lay on your chest or tummy just to get away from the world for a second. He squeezes very hard so be prepared.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Bakugo doesn’t give “casual” or even likes the term “situationship” you guys are either together and going to get married or nothing. He does in fact date to marry because he doesn’t want to consistently waste his own time with multiple people every few months. He’s either ganna be married with his one and only or nobody at all so you’re his first, last, and only.

He’s a pro hero in college but he always gave househusband. Whenever he comes to your dorm he will tidy up, throwing a few “Why is there so much shit everywhere.” When all there is is a few empty bottles on the floor. It’s cute and sweet how he makes sure you’re clean.

He will cook for you, and has no problem doing it every single time he visits, he loves to show off his talents to you, so shut up, sit and look pretty as he makes you some of your favorite meals. BONUS points if it’s a home/childhood meal he’s never heard of and you teach it to him.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I believe if any reason bakugo would break up with you it’d be for a valid reason, I.e. you cheating. If he found out you cheated he’d of course upset, angry, but more betrayed. It takes a lot for him to gain that level of trust in a person and for all those moments of vulnerability and love and laughter with you to be thrown away will cut him deep to the point he wouldn’t ever focus on a relationship again. It’s painful for him to know that the thoughts of once sharing his whole world with you are now a painful faded memory .

F = Fiance(How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He doesn’t seem like the type to have super long engagements, at most 1-2 years and that’s even pushing it. He has money for days and Bakugo is a man that if he wants it he will get it so the moment he decides you’re going to be his wife(which is most likely after the first date) he is preparing to propose. He does not mind being a husband.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Now I’m not going to say he’s just a complete soft baby boy when he’s with you. Not necessarily, He can still be brash with his words, but he never once harmed you physically. Ever. Down to how he grabs your arm when rescuing you.

A few examples of gentleness he expresses is when you lay on or beside him, his scared hand rubs against your cheeks and sides, he kisses your forehead every once in a while and even before he gets up to grab you both a snack. Bakugo tends to examine your body after a fight, even a simple run in with low life villains he rushes towards you after, he has been doing it since high school, after sparing, training, whatever he caresses your face (a few times a big rough than usual if he is impatient) and critiques how you did as if he was a teacher, but all the while he’s praying in his head thanking God He kept you safe.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

You initiate 90% of the hugs, and He grew to like YOUR hugs, but he says he doesn’t. When you first hugged him he instinctively pushed you away, but you didn’t let go. For a few years he never hugged you back because hugs wasn’t a common thing for him and they were awkward, but one day after another fight with the league of villains he seen you, bloodied up and limping towards him he finally grabbed you and surrounded you in his sweaty arms. You nearly couldn’t breathe for how tightly he hugged you, but you felt your body relax, mostly because you fell unconscious on his shoulder for a second. He didn’t let you go until you were on a hospital bed.

Bakugo’s hug feel safe and warm, one arm around your waist and another holding the back of your head. Almost like a cradles you. He never does a regular side hug with you it’s either a bear hug or nothing else.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Does NOT say it a lot . It’s HARD, his actions show it so much though that it’s not to the point where you question, but he does say it at the most random or intimate times.

The first time he said it was when you both were taking a shower together and you were scrubbing his back and playfully said “I love you, jackass.” Mid conversation and he was in a sligghttllyyy good mood so he chuckled and said “I love you too, dumbass.” You knew if you pointed it out he’d get red as a tomato so you tried not to make a big deal, but bakugo felt your pause briefly and knew he finally said the world you been wanting him to say for the longest.

He’ll say it after and during sex a few times, and before going to work. Instead of a goodbye it’s “I love you, see you later.”

Because he never wants to experience telling you goodbye

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

His jealously is loud, but not verbally. It’s with glares and action. He trust you he just don’t trust other men. It’s not OFTEN but it’s enough that when it happens you never forget it.

He usually gets jealous when another guy is too close to you for comfort and makes you anything above happy. Why the hell are you happy with them? You have Katsuki Bakugo as your man he’s the only one that should make you happy?

He’s a little delusional in the head but it’s okay.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Goodness his kisses are slutty. It’s not even on purpose the dick just loves dominating everything. He tends to always initiate when you both are alone, and brace yourself because when he kisses you he goes all out. He has a habit of staring at the location as to where he wants to kiss you, usually when you’re rambling he stares at your lips, almost annoyed liked until you stop and that’s when he dives in, it’s almost like he is pushing you from the force but he slowly moves his mouth in tandem with yours, by default he uses his tongue a lot. He is also a buyer to prepared for little nips at your bottoms lip. He barely allows either of your to breathe so you are usually the one to pull back first which leads to a pissy Blondie, but it’s not even a second until he pulls you back in by your neck. You can always feel his thumb rubbing your throat or cheek as he nearly swallows your tongue, his lips are always soft and his breath super minty or sweet from a candy he popped in his mouth earlier.

He loves your lips. He does, but next to that you always catch him kissing your shoulder. Bakugo will ends his days or just pause

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

…I’m sure you all know how he is with kids.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Okay so it depends if he has to work or not so let’s start off on his off days; for one, He isn’t an actual early bird. I know a lot of people say he is because he went to sleep early but if you all remember his own mom pointed out he wakes up around noon, so if it’s his day off he is snuggled in bed with you for while drifting in and out of sleep. Legs and arm stretched over your body OR you’re on top of him, if he wakes before you he will place you comfortably on the middle of the bed, a small forehead kiss and head to clean the room a bit. He often cooks breakfast while you sleep so many mornings you wake to his famous pancakes and bacon. Casual mornings are quiet, nonverbal communication between you both with him giving you a glass of water and OJ, sometimes letting you taste test different pancakes flavors he has made, and comfortably eating on the couch watching the news/yall favorite show.

If he has to work he usually sets out a bottled water for you and have your coffee already brewing to your liking. It sucks to wake up to a cold bed, but when he gets home he makes it up to you.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

A mix of settling down but in the most chaotic way. Surprisingly some days Bakugo wants to stay up late and you go to bed with him, so you try to convince him to just watch TV in your shared room. Some nights he working out and you would rather lay with him and be lazy. Some nights it’s vise versa. However it’s always ended with cuddling and relaxing in bed while eating the most unhealthy snacks. Bakugo doesn’t like to admit it but he definitely gained a few pounds since dating you due to this.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

I believe the first time he opened up to you was after the war. He had his few moments of TRYING to be more vocal about himself and his feelings towards you, but his heart softened more after he woke up from the hospital. It was when you were helping him during his time in rehab and he was making such fast process you told him how proud of him you were. That’s when he finally spewed as much of what he could out before shutting down a gain.

He told you about how he felt about you, how he thought about you in the moments you weren’t there, the way he’d always hope you come back sooner rather than later when you left, he spoke about his insecurities with you and even though it wasn’t worded THE BEST, you understood. Since then he became more comfortable with telling you certain “secrets” he kept from you. How he likes hearing you laugh, how he enjoys watching you switch up your hairstyle every other week, he especially loves when you wear braids.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

….its bakugo. He usually has just enough patience with you that’s noticeable to others, but he still gets irritated. It’s kind of his default mood at this point. With you though it’s somewhat different, he doesn’t scream at you in genuine anger instead he pouts, grumbles even like a hardheaded child. Sometimes even give you the silent treatment, but it doesn’t last long when you baby him.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Yall talk about Deku being the observant one, have you seen his bestie Bakugo???? He remembers a lot and He’s nosey too! He remembers things you don’t even notice, like how your face grimace when you eat something too sour, or the look in your eye when something clearly annoys you but you don’t say anything. Bakugo pays attention to body language above anything else about you. He subconsciously uses it as mental notes to learn more about you. It’s kind of attractive in its own way.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He wouldn’t tell you but he loved yall first date. It was in a small village you two happen to find after driving to the original date place but his car ran out of gas and their gas station was the nearest one. You wanted to walk around because it was so pretty and even had a sunflower field to visit. He stole a few pictures of you while you wasn’t looking in the field and you looked ethereal to him. He has it as his lockscreen.

It was his favorite moment because you really showed your true self around him, your corny jokes, yapping about your latest fixation to him. It was endearing. But most of all it was just you both. In a place nobody knew you both so he felt more comfortable himself. Bakugo even remembers the old lady that called you both a beautiful husband and wife and you didn’t correct her. He didn’t either.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

You have a personal guard dog with this one. Pro hero AND naturally strong? Girl you’re winning. He literally has told his classmates he will protect them so what makes you think he wouldn’t go even further for you? You can quite literally turn off your mind when you are with him. He got you.

Bakugo doesn’t necessarily need protection but he likes to know you have his back too, villains, fan girls, or even tripping over his feet you’re right there to help him. And he loves that.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

At first he would just do whatever you wanted to do honestly. But if it’s true he reads romance mangas then he definitely would try to recreate some dates with you he has read.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

If you had a boyfriend before him he’d probably have an insecurity about it. Bakugo would constantly compare himself to your ex even if you never speak about him. So if you can. Try to reassure him every single time that he is not your ex and that’s exactly one of the many things you love about him.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Bakugo genuinely did not care for his looks until you kept giving him compliments. He knew he wasn’t UGLY but hated to be called pretty. You however stroked his ego, you called his lips soft so he began doing more lip scrubs in his routine, you talked about how good he smelled naturally he began to buy more hoodies for you to steal after he wore em, you talked about how nice his arms are he started walking around your dorm shirtless and wearing more sleeveless shirts, every compliment you gave him was something he adored…he may have a praise kink.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

He wouldn’t admit it but he would feel empty if you left him. I hc one of his fears is being alone after he has already has someone to be with which is probably why he didn’t want any interest in dating until you came along. He didn’t want to grow a bond that would eventually fail, but knowing you he has no intention on leaving you so you can’t leave him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Bakugo was born in Germany, but moved to Japan when he was one, growing up his mother would switch from speaking English/Japanese/German so Bakugo could be bilingual. And he is he can fluently speak all three.

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lay-z · 23 days ago

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🇸🇪 Day 15 – Domestic bliss

A continuation to ❄️ Day 7 – Make do, which means it's set in the same universe!

Synopsis: This year, you’re not stuck, but willingly spending Christmas in a cozy cottage in the beautiful wilderness of Sweden.

Pairing: alpha!TF-141 x fem!omega!Reader

Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | Omegaverse; military!Reader; a/b/o dynamics; emotional support (dog) omega; established poly!relationship; claimed mates; typical alpha/omega behaviour; knotting; breeding; fluff/aftercare

Word count: 2.6k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Location: Öjarn, Northern Sweden

EST. remng. time until exfil: Undisclosed

When the brass decided to transfer you to another unit after a year of serving with the 141, Captain Price didn't hesitate, made the necessary arrangements and swiftly claimed you as his omega, along with the rest of his squad.

That was roughly two months ago.

Now, the Captain's inner alpha preens whenever he catches a glimpse of the four mating bite marks along the junctures of your pretty neck; two on each shoulder, slightly different sizes, but all equal and serious in their claim. All binding for a lifetime, too.

In return, each one of your mates wears your unique bite mark proudly; dainty crescent scars adorning each of their necks. You'd claimed them all as your mates eagerly, no questions asked, but “Who goes first?”.

The Captain did.

Then Simon.

And Kyle.

Johnny.

You've become their perfect pillow princess. The sweetest most beautiful, supportive and docile omega each of them could've ever dreamed of and wished for. You help them decompress and unwind, sleep better and keep the nightmares at bay with your soothing scent and gentle purrs.

They’re completely enamoured with you; so much so that the urge to hide you away and keep you from danger is becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. That’s why the Captain decided to bring you all here on leave, wanting to spend this Christmas in a more appropriate and comfortable way than the last.

They rented a pretty cottage in the woods, close to a gorgeous lake where a herd of reindeer roams, far away from civilization, with a nice fireplace, plenty of supplies and provisions to last for several weeks, and enough spaces to relax, lounge and bond. To breed.

John’s chest rumbles with a deep purr at the thought. He’s been planning on breeding you with his boys, start easing you into being knotted more frequently even before your upcoming heat.

It’s enough to make his cock chuff in his pants as he watches you fool around and playfight with his younger packmates, his dear Sergeants. They like to get a bit rough with you, enjoying the way you growl at them and giggle in delight, but they’re always gentle enough to never hurt you, knowing fully well that their Captain and Ghost would rip them a new one if you’d so much as catch a bruise on your supple skin.

You squeal when Johnny pins you to the fur carpet in front of the fireplace, straddling your hips while Kyle holds your wrists above your head to keep you from thrashing. The young alphas growl playfully at you, and John hides his smile as he takes a sip of his morning coffee, keeping his distance for now.

“Now what?” You ask through a giddy smile, eyes sparkling with mirth as your gaze flickers between Johnny and Kyle.

“Now... we claim our bonnie prize. Right, Garrick?” Johnny shoots Kyle a look, the formers eyes already darkened from diamond blue to navy, his cock hot and heavy in his pants. Kyle clicks his tongue with a nod and licks his lips, just as excited as his packmate. Their heady arousal thick in the air around the spacious living room while your saccharine scent slowly mixes with theirs, creating a perfect concoction of a natural aphrodisiac.

Your skin flushes, heartrate picking up at their possessive behaviour. A year ago, you would’ve felt flustered, embarrassed at how turned on you get by simply playfighting with them, but you’ve long learned that it’s perfectly natural. They want you needy and desperate, and bold about it.

“Want you both,” you keen while your cunt slicks up and throbs around nothing, “I want you to use me.”

Both young alphas groan. Kyle squeezes your wrists before he reaches for the hem of your flimsy sweater to pull it off you. Johnny snarls and grinds his big bulge against your warm core, seeking friction as he keeps the weight off his bad knee.

“Alright! That’s enough for now, lads. Give our sweet omega a break.” John barks commandingly, sauntering over to the throuple on the floor. “Make yourselves useful and go chop some wood outside. It’s going to be cold tonight.”

Both Kyle and Johnny leave you be reluctantly, the latter more hesitantly than the former, but as the leading alpha, the Captain’s word is law in this pack – in and outside of the field. He keeps the peace and balance, even if he must bring in Simon as his enforcer sometimes, and neither Kyle nor Johnny wants to get scuffed by the Lieutenant again.

“Send Simon back inside when you see him, aye? I need to have a word with him.” He calls after the younger men as they scurry off to get dressed and follow their orders.

John approaches you slowly, eyes never leaving yours as you roll over onto your stomach, lifting your legs, crossed at the ankles with your ass perched up a little, already presenting for him and luring him in. It always works.

“Quite the tease today, aren’t you, sweetheart?” John kneels on one leg, knees popping as he goes down. He cups your chin, tilting it up to him. “How’re you feeling?”

You blink your pretty eyes up at him with feigned innocence. “Good, sir,” you purr, flashing a warm smile when John huffs in amusement, “I feel toasty warm and safe here.”

John nods, pleased with your answer as he rubs the pad of his thumb over your chin in contemplation.

Your back arches against Simon’s flushed chest, damp skins sticky with sweat while he breathes down your neck, mouthing along the curve of your shoulder as he keeps you impaled on his massive cock while he sits with his broad back against the headboard of the large bed, your thighs spread wide open and draped over his strong legs, giving John a perfect view of your wonderful cunt and the way it swallows and stretches around Simon’s prick.

Your syrupy slick is dripping around your hole, down your crack and his heavy balls. You feel so full and yet it’s not enough. You’re burning up inside. The squelch is obscene whenever he lifts you up a little only to drop you back down on his length, making you cry out in pleasure each time.

“Remember, lad, don’t knot her. I need you to prepare her for mine.” John reminds him sternly, still casually leaning against the bedroom wall.

Simon grunts, nodding curtly. “Yes, sir.”

John hums in approval at his obedience. Although he’s allowed Simon to drop the formalities off duty, especially in an intimate situation like this, his Lieutenant simply cannot do it, can’t give up the control. Deep down, John knows it’s so that Simon won’t forget himself, scared of his own self that he might do something to you he will regret if he’d ever lose control. It’s like he’s clinging to the power dynamic; clinging to John being the leader, the one and only alpha who can keep Simon on a metaphorical leash, ready to pull on it if he gets too rough.

John knows Simon would never do anything harmful to you. John also knows that Kyle and Johnny are more prone to wearing you out when no one is around to keep them in check. He makes a mental note to have a pack briefing soon. If he wants to start breeding you, he wants to do it right with everyone involved and on the same page.

And then your high-pitched moans pull John out of his thoughts, and he watches your body quake and tremble while Simon keeps thrusting up into your convulsing walls, large hands gripping the fat of your thighs as he coaxes another orgasm out of you while he holds his own release back.

John can see how badly Simon wants to come, too. The tendons and veins throbbing in his thick neck, the sweat trickling down his temples, pale and heavily scarred skin now flushed and hot, and the way his shoulders shake with restraint, are all clear indicators of this pleasurable torture, though Captain’s orders hold him back and he’s a fiercely obedient pup.

John tilts his head to the side, eyes zeroed in on the way your slick keeps gushing around Simon’s cock. “Would you like Simon to come inside you, sweetheart? You want to relief him of his suffering, hm? Your choice, love.”

Your lips are parted, eager to be stuffed with another cock, as you regard John with a heavy-lidded gaze, head lolling back against Simon’s shoulder as you moan and whimper, and ultimately nod.

Your pleading voice and verbal permission is the only push Simon needs, and he drops your thighs to wrap his bulky arms around your torso instead as he pumps his hips and starts fucking you with wild abandon, grunting praises in your ear while his dark eyes keep flicking down to his claiming mark on your right shoulder. His jaw twitches and his canines ache to bite and claim you all over again, but he manages to suppress the urge for now.

“Yes,” you whine, hands grasping and holding onto Simon’s tattooed forearms desperately while you turn your head, nuzzling his throat while your warm breath puffs against his sweaty skin. “Yes, please, Si!”

When Simon cums and spills his release inside of you eventually, John is already shedding his clothes, dropping the fabrics on the bedroom floor before approaching the bed.

You’re mewling and chirping happily as Simon’s cock keeps throbbing while his chest heaves with rumbling, satisfied growls. He tilts your head to the side to seal your lips in a sloppy yet sweet kiss, licking into your mouth to taste you thoroughly before John’s arm snakes around your waist, ready to claim you for himself.

Simon doesn’t snarl, doesn’t growl possessively when his Captain comes to steal you away. No, he only whines deep in his throat, but lets go of you, nonetheless, right when his knot starts to swell, eager to lock inside you.

“Not yet, Simon,” John reminds him with a low rumble as he pulls you into his own arms, against his warm hairy chest. “You’ll get your turn, lad.”

You’re already at that point where you’re just happy to be passed around along your alphas, eager to serve and have their cocks fill you up repeatedly. It starting to feel different, though, and in the back of your mind, you already know why that is.

“How do you want it, love?” John asks softly, meaty palms caressing up and down your flanks while his own cock is bobbing against his lower abdomen, weeping with precum from its ruddy tip. You want to lick and cherish it. Behind you, Simon traces the curve of your spine with the rough tips of his fingers, needing the contact. You shudder and whine needily.

John’s eyes soften. “That bad already, huh?” He reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer until you straddle his lap and he can kiss you properly.

“Something wrong, sir?” Simon asks, his gruff voice laced with concern for you.

John pulls back from the sensual kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips that he licks away.

“Our omega is going into heat soon and you know how needy she already is out of it,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Isn’t that right, princess?”

You nod slowly, eyes becoming all glossy as you tremble under John’s loving gaze.

Kyle and Johnny push and shove each other like a pair of rowdy pups after kicking off their wet boots by the front door, both carrying a pile of cut firewood. They’re still restless and buzzing with energy, even after exerting themselves outside in the snow, chopping wood for the past hour.

“You smell that?” Kyle asks suddenly, dark brows furrowed quizzically as he drops the logs next to the fireplace, sniffing the air.

Johnny rubs the cold tip of his nose with his equally cold hands. “Nah. Smell what?” He scents the air as well, eyes squinting as he picks up a familiar sound instead, one that has his heart start thudding rapidly in his chest. His eyes widen with glee as he looks at Kyle before they both take off sprinting down the hallway towards the master bedroom.

What they find in the bedroom has them both freezing on the spot and their throats start rumbling with whiney growls, pricks already swelling with unbridled need and desire for you.

The air is thick with the heady scent of sex, familiar alpha pheromones and your sweet, sweet slick. It makes their mouths water, and their chests swell with affection and pride.

You’re on all fours on the bed, head resting on your folded forearms, your plump ass is up in the air, your back arched so beautifully as their Captain takes you from behind while Simon watches with heavy-lidded eyes, jerking his cock in rhythm with John’s shallow thrusts into your fluttering cunt. Neither of them minds the audience and you’re certainly calling out to them with soft, saccharine whines.

Johnny doesn’t hesitate another second before he starts undressing in a hurry, more than eager to join, and Kyle swiftly follows the lead.

“Permission to join, sir.” Johnny requests breathlessly and the mattress dips and creaks as he climbs onto the bed, already reaching you to pet your hair lovingly; his other hand squeezing his shaft to release some of that gut-wrenching pressure. Kyle crawls onto the mattress behind him, opting to lean against the headboard like Simon.

Meanwhile, your eyelashes flutter as you blink up at your other two alphas; their heavy, delicious scents making your walls clench and convulse around John’s thick, swollen knot. Pressing your face into the mattress below, you keep panting and whining and moaning while John gropes and squeezes your ass cheeks soothingly, hushing you with his deep, husky voice before he addresses his packmates.

“She’s going into heat soon. I had to knot her now, but she’ll need more.” He grunts out as his knot keeps throbbing, locked in past your soppy entrance.

And their eyes darken at their Captain’s explanation. Now that they know what’s going on, it all makes sense.

“Heat.” Kyle repeats under his breath, eyes trained on your while his cock twitches inside his boxer briefs. He remembers the first heat that got triggered when they’d claimed you as their omega, and his heart flutters in his chest, his stomach doing a little flip. It was one of the most stressful yet best and rewarding times of his life so far.

When Johnny lies down next to you and starts caressing the curve of your spine, Simon glares and gives his calf a warning nudge with his foot. “Let her be, Johnny. Don’t overwhelm her.”

“Am not even doin’ anythin’!” Johnny grumbles, glancing over his shoulder with a frown before his Captain’s stern glare makes him duck his head and simply lay down next to you like an obedient pup, and when you turn your head to gaze at the youngest alpha, he scoots closer to nuzzle his cold nose against yours sweetly.

“And just to be clear,” Simon mutters, his cheeks flushing brighter as he keeps himself from bucking into his fist, “Cap’ already said tha’ it’s my turn to knot her next.”

#call of duty #tf 141 x reader #omegaverse #cod omegaverse #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #omega!reader #alpha!tf 141 #cod #cod advent calendar 2024

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yuujispinkhair · 7 months ago

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CollegeBoy!Sukuna accidentally knocking you up – Part 2 A

-> Option A: "I'm not ready to be a mom"

You can read Part 1 here

I decided to write two different versions of Part 2 (both are comforting). Option A: Reader has an abortion Option B: Reader decides to have the baby(s)

Modern!Sukuna x Reader (female). Fluff. Light angst with a happy end. 2K words. Unplanned pregnancy, Reader has a surgical abortion. Everything goes well. Sukuna takes good care of Reader. All characters are of age. Minors don't interact. Divider@/plutism + dollsciples + benkeibear

Finding out that you accidentally got knocked up by your college sweetheart was definitely a shock. And it didn't end there because now you are faced with having to make a decision that has the potential to change your life forever.

You sleep a night over it and spend the next day going on a long walk with Sukuna, hoping the fresh air will help you clear your mind. It's when you sit down on a park bench and lean against Sukuna's biceps when you ask softly,

"So what are we going to do, Kuna?"

And Sukuna wraps his arm around you and pulls you against his side,

"It's your choice, princess. I will be there for you no matter what. I'm man enough to handle both. And ultimately, it's your body, so you should be the one who makes the decision."

It makes you love him even more.

Sukuna is usually a very dominant person, someone who likes to be in control. Seeing him hold back and give you the reins fills you with deep affection.

You have contemplated both options, glad that Sukuna made it clear that he won't run even if you want to have the baby. But in the end, there is one option that feels more right for you at this point in your life.

When you tell Sukuna that you want to terminate the pregnancy, he doesn't comment on whether this is what he would have decided or not but just pulls you into his strong arms and hugs you, tells you again that he will drive you to the hospital and be there for you all the way.

You practically melt into the comfort of his strong arms as you add softly,

"It's not that I don't want a baby with you, Kuna. You know that, right? It has nothing to do with you. I just think we are too young. I am too young. I don't want the stress of having to be a mom while I still go to college and have to study for exams and try to find a good job, etc. It already seems so much, and when I imagine also having to take care of a little baby, I don't think I can manage all of it, even with you by my side."

Sukuna smiles at you, not one of his smug smirks or flirty boyish grins, but a genuine smile, soft and tender, a smile that is only reserved for you.

"I know, princess. Don't worry your pretty head about this."

Sukuna is with you throughout the whole journey. He drives you to your doctor and insists on going up to the waiting room with you because he knows how nervous you are. He sits next to you, holds your hand, caresses your fingers soothingly, and grins reassuringly at you. He makes a flirty comment and winks at you when your name gets called, trying his best to make you laugh and feel less nervous.

But you know that he is nervous too. When you get back twenty minutes later, you can see that Sukuna is still on the same page of the book he started to read when you left. His mind obviously occupied with other things, just as affected by the situation as you are.

It makes you reach out and hug him tightly, comforting him just like he comforts you, even though he would never admit openly that this makes him anxious just as much as you.

"My doctor already made an appointment at the clinic for me to have another examination and to sign all the documents and stuff. But it's when you have training, so you really don't have to come with me."

But Sukuna rolls his eyes and shakes his head,

"What are you saying? Stop it, baby. Of course, I am coming with you. If I can put my dick in you, I can also accompany you to your appointment. After all, it's my apparently super-fertile sperm that got you into that situation in the first place! I'll skip training. It's not important. Nothing is as important as you are to me."

The next four days feel weird. You go to the examination at the clinic. You listen to the doctor explaining the procedure to you. You nod, you smile politely, and you sign several documents before you get sent halfway through the hospital to meet an anesthetic and sign more papers. They send you home with a sheet full of instructions on what to do before and after the surgery.

You spend the days until the surgery in a daze. Everything feels unreal.

But you aren't alone. Sukuna doesn't leave your side. It's almost funny how he follows you around like a puppy. The big bad boy, all sweet and doting.

On the day of the abortion Sukuna drives you to the hospital. He walks with you to the unit where the surgery will take place, and his large hand squeezes your smaller one so tightly it almost hurts.

You can see and feel how reluctant he is to let go of you and how worried he is about you, even though he tries to hide it and play it cool so as not to make you more anxious than you already are. But his hug is even tighter than usual, almost bone-crushing the way his strong arms tighten around you, and he pulls you against his tall, muscular body.

He kisses you, too deep and with too much tongue for the location, but you tilt your head to let him push his tongue even deeper into your mouth, craving his kiss and his love and the reassurance he gives you that way.

You leave towards the room where you are supposed to change, looking back over your shoulder one last time and Sukuna is still standing there in the hallway, his hands shoved into the pockets of his grey sweatpants, looking so cool with his tattoos and the pink hair. But you can see the tenseness in his broad shoulders and the worry on his tattooed face.

It makes your chest feel warm, and you can't help but mouth "I love you" in his direction, smiling when you see him say the words too.

Your surgery goes by without any complications, and the moment you wake up, a nurse is already by your side, bringing you tea and something to eat, and some painkillers. But you are impatient, wanting nothing more than to leave and be in Sukuna's comforting embrace, feel the warmth of his body and inhale his scent and hear his velvety low voice murmuring sweet nothings in your ear.

You're glad when you are finally allowed to get up and get dressed again, promising the nurse that you have someone who will stay with you for the next 24 hours.

When you leave the changing room, you see Sukuna leaning against the wall right next to the reception. His tattooed face is a bit pale, and he is playing nervously with his tongue piercing once again.

His maroon eyes meet yours, and he is by your side in a second, a strong arm wrapping around your waist and carefully pulling you against his side, steadying you, holding you securely, making sure you won't fall. His lips press against your temple, lingering there for a long moment, warm and soft,

"Fuck. I'm glad you're finally out of there."

You can hear the strain in his low voice, can hear every ounce of worry and anxiety he felt during the last hours when he was sitting in his room, waiting for the hospital to call him and tell him, you are ok.

You lean gratefully against him, feeling a bit dizzy from the anesthetics, glad that you have your strong boyfriend to hold you.

"I'm so glad you're here, Sukuna."

"How are you, princess?"

"I'm good. Just a bit wobbly on my feet. And I need something to eat. I'm starving!"

And Sukuna laughs softly, sounding so relieved,

"Well, how lucky you are that your boyfriend spent the last few hours in the kitchen to distract himself and prepare your favorite dishes for you."

And suddenly, your sight becomes blurry as tears well up in your eyes and run down your cheeks without you even knowing why you suddenly start crying now that it's over when, in the days leading up to the abortion, you didn't shed a single tear!

But maybe all the stress and anxiety of the last few days finally caught up with you. The contradictory emotions of feeling a bit wistful about letting go of that fantasy of Sukuna and you having your own little family versus the relief you feel that it's over and that you can live your life the way you planned.

But you suspect that, most of all, it is the overwhelming love you feel for Sukuna right at that moment. You are so touched by how caring he is. How mature he was in this situation. That he didn't run, that he didn't leave you to deal with all of this on your own. He is so worried about you and does so much to make you feel okay. He is so strong all the time, so you have someone to lean on.

A sniffle escapes your trembling lips, and Sukuna's eyes widen. He pulls you against him, burying his face in your hair and murmuring soothingly to you,

"Hey, baby, it's ok. Everything's going to be ok. Don't cry."

Your hands are on Sukuna's broad chest, and you feel the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart through the soft hoodie he is wearing, comforting and reassuring.

"I'm ok, Kuna, I swear. It's just... I love you so much."

"I love you too."

His voice sounds tender when he says the words, and you snuggle closer to him, lifting your head to look at his beautiful tattooed face. And Sukuna leans down a bit, enough so he can brush his lips over yours.

That's how you end up standing in the middle of the hospital hallway, hugging your boyfriend and kissing him slowly as if the two of you are the only people in this world.

But you make it to the parking lot a few minutes later, walking there with the help of Sukuna's strong arm wrapped around you.

Sukuna is so gentle, so caring. He helps you into the car and puts on your seat belt for you as if you can't do it yourself. He stops at a convenience store to get some pads for you, jogging back to the car as if he is running from a crime scene because he is worried about letting you out of his sight even for a few minutes.

He helps you out of the car again, once you have reached your apartment, picks you up princess-style and carries you up the stairs. He sits you down on the couch, wraps you in a warm blanket and glares at you when you try to get up.

"Don't be a brat! Just stay right here and rest and let me bring you the meal I cooked for you with all my fucking love!"

He brings you the food and plops down next to you, checking if you really eat something, like some super stern nurse, and you can't help but feel warm, knowing that your bad boy is so amazingly sweet and caring when it comes to you.

The moment your face twists in pain, Sukuna is on his knees in front of you, fear in his maroon eyes, his large hands on your thighs, looking up at you with worry written all over his tattooed face.

"What's wrong?"

You grit your teeth and smile shakily at him, reaching out to cup his cheek and caress it tenderly, touched by how worried he is for you.

"It's nothing bad, Kuna. They told me I would get cramps after the surgery. It's perfectly normal! But it feels like really bad period cramps. They gave me some painkillers for that. Can you..."

You can't even finish the sentence before Sukuna is on his feet again, already walking over to your bag,

"I'll get them for you!"

You thank him, and he sits down next to you again, watching you the whole time with narrowed maroon eyes until you chuckle and reach over to ruffle his pink hair,

"I won't drop dead if you stop looking at me for one second, you know, baby? Eat something, too, I know you are hungry!"

"Don't joke about stuff like that, princess. I am just taking my job as your personal nurse seriously."

And he really does. For the next few days, Sukuna barely leaves your side. And even a week later, he is still acting differently around you, and you begin to realize that this is probably how he will always be now. Even more protective. Even more caring.

The unplanned pregnancy and the abortion didn't drive a wedge between the two of you. Instead, it made the two of you grow even closer. You shared a life-altering experience. Because even though you decided not to have the baby, it still will be something you will always carry with you. And you will never forget how Sukuna reacted. How he was there for you. How he respected your decision and how he cared for you.

You learned that Sukuna is more than just the sexy bad boy you can have fun with. He showed you that you can always count on him, that he won't run when real problems occur. You learned that if one day in the future you actually want to have a baby, you have a wonderful man by your side who would be a loving partner and a damn good dad.

You sigh happily as you lie in your bed with Sukuna behind you. He has become more cuddly since accidentally knocking you up. He wants to spend every night at your apartment or asks you to stay at his. As if he needs to hold you every night, keeping you safe and sound, wrapped in his strong arms, his buff body pressing against your back, and his lips trailing lazy kisses over your neck.

The two of you are living your regular lives again, going to classes, studying, going to training, to parties. No one else knows what happened to you. It's a secret between you and Sukuna because you both want it that way. No one else has to know. This is just something the two of you share.

A commercial for baby food starts playing in between two episodes of the crime show you are watching. A young family, mom and dad, and a tiny baby. And even though it's been weeks, it still makes you feel a bit weird to see it.

Sukuna's arm tightens around you. Maybe he felt you tense up, or maybe he had the same thoughts as you when seeing the commercial. Either way, his hand slips down to your belly, caressing it gently, and there's a smile in his low voice when he says,

"You know, it's not the end of it, princess, right? We can still have one.... when we are older. If we want."

You smile and snuggle against Sukuna's warm, muscular body. Your hand lands on top of his larger one, which is resting on your belly now, and you interlace your fingers with his, feeling the weird tension leave your body again.

"If I ever want to have a baby, it will definitely be with you, Sukuna."

I LOVE HIM 💗😭

Thank you so much for all the love on Part 1!! The story wouldn't leave my mind anymore, and after I got several comments and asks where people asked about a possible Part 2, I wanted to continue the story about College sweetheart Sukuna knocking us up and show how Reader and Sukuna deal with both options, so I decided to write two different versions.

I hope you liked Option A and that it could give you comfort.

Option B will be the version where Reader decides to have the baby (or rather babies lol). I plan to post it next week!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗

You can find Option B here

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk fluff #tw pregnancy #tw abortion

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mggslover · 13 days ago

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How the Unsub Stole Christmas ❆

A Holiday to Remember: part 2

In which the BAU's holiday getaway takes a dark turn when a family is found murdered on Christmas, forcing the team to investigate while reader struggles with painful memories of her past and her growing, unspoken feelings for Spencer Reid.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!bau!reader Genre: crime, angst, smut (18+), fluff, found family Content warnings: graphic cm case descriptions!!, mentions of shitty childhood, reader getting in some unsub trouble, oral (f receiving), p in v sex. Word count: 9k 🫣 i swear it reads really fast A/n: read part 1 first! writing this story genuinely brought me so much joy, and i hope you will experience the same while reading this. this will be my last fic for the year 2024, so thank you from the bottom of my heart for all the support, i can't wait to see what the new year will bring for this blog. don't forget to interact with this post if you've enjoyed! 🎄🤍 dividers by @issysh3ll

It shouldn’t have surprised you that you’d be called out for another case. Still, the disappointment lingered thick in the air.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Garcia murmured softly, her tone sad. JJ wrapped an arm around her, bringing her in for a side hug. “Don’t worry,” she reassured gently. “The trip isn’t over yet.”

Penelope seemed satisfied enough with that answer, but then spoke up again. “I don’t want to stay here on my own. It’s spooky knowing someone got murdered just miles away.”

“You can come with us to the station. Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss and Y/L/N, you’ll head to the crime scene. A deputy will be waiting for you there.” Hotch instructed.

You exhaled softly and gave a brief nod. Spencer glanced over at you, his eyes filled with that quiet empathy you’d come to recognize over the years.

“Good luck,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

“Thanks,” you replied, your words equally soft. “You too.”

Half an hour later, you arrived at the crime scene. The neighborhood was so small it hardly felt like one—just a handful of houses scattered across large, snow-dusted plots of land. It looked peaceful, almost idyllic, as if nothing could ever disturb the calm. The street was adorned with Christmas lights and festive decorations. The only thing slightly out of place was a crack in the bench beside one of the houses. Otherwise, the neighborhood looked like it had stepped right out of a holiday card.

As you stepped out of the car, you noticed the few neighbors who hadn’t yet been driven inside by the cold. They stood in clusters in front of their homes, bundled up in scarves and coats, watching the scene unfold with cautious curiosity.

You looked over at Prentiss. “We should start doing some interviews—maybe send a few of them over to the station.”

She nodded, her expression focused. “Got it.” Without another word, she made her way toward them.

You followed Rossi and Derek toward the red wooden house, where the Deputy awaited by the front door. He looked young—probably around your age.

Rossi introduced you to Deputy Wilson. Wilson gave a sheepish smile, “Sorry it’s just me. Almost the whole department is unavailable because of the holidays.”

“Convenient timing for a murder,” you mused.

“The scene’s been left as it was when we found it,” Wilson continued. “The back door’s been forced open, and you can see boot prints in the snow leading to the backyard.”

Morgan immediately stepped forward. “I’ll get a shot of those prints for Garcia,” he said, already heading toward the backyard.

Wilson looked at you and Rossi. “You want to take a look inside?”

You paused before heading in, shaking the snow from your boots and making sure not to use the doormat—the one engraved with the names of the family members. It felt wrong, almost disrespectful, to dirty the only thing that might be left of them.

You took in a sharp breath as you entered the house. Your gaze was first taken by the large Christmas tree standing in the corner of the living room, decorated in red and gold. But then you noticed the bloody mess underneath it. Four bodies—two adults and two children—lay scattered on the floor, broken Christmas ornaments surrounding them, as though the killer had dropped them carelessly after his violent act. The mother and father were draped over each other, their throats slit cleanly. The teenage daughter, too, had her throat cut, but her body was twisted in a way that didn’t seem accidental. The small boy—no older than ten—was slumped between them, his face frozen in an expression of terror, a look that would haunt you for days.

The scene before you was a sickening parody of a perfect Christmas. But the most disturbing part wasn’t the carnage—it was their faces. Each of them wore a grotesque, unnerving smile, painted onto their lips in blood. It was a mockery of joy, an image of happiness forced onto the dead.

You felt a wave of nausea rise in your throat and turned away, needing a moment to breathe. It was then that you noticed the walls, once filled with smiling family photos were now smeared with blood. Shattered frames lay scattered on the floor, as if the killer had intentionally destroyed the family’s history, piece by piece.

Rossi spoke first. “The unsub who stole Christmas,” he mused, his tone almost playful despite the grim reality.

You gave a sharp exhale, a brief scoff escaping your lips. “Yeah, you could say that.”

You put on your gloves and picked up a shattered picture frame from the floor. You handed it to Rossi without a word. He took it, studying it for a moment before speaking again. “One thing’s for sure—this wasn’t just a murder. This is deeply personal.”

You nodded, scanning the room. The starkness of the crime scene was still sinking in, but your mind was already running through the facts. “The execution was meticulous,” you murmured, your gaze flickering over the room, “but the aftermath... messy. The unsub rushed out of here—didn’t even bother closing the back door behind him, and those footprints? Almost like he didn’t care at all about leaving evidence. We might even get lucky and find DNA on the bodies.”

Rossi considered it. “It could be that he was in a hurry. In a small neighborhood like this, people will notice anything out of the ordinary. He probably knew he had to move fast.”

You hummed in return. “It still doesn’t add up. You can’t plan a murder with this much detail and then completely overlook how to cover your tracks afterward.”

You took another slow turn around the room, examining the details. Every piece seemed to add to the strange puzzle, but none of it fit together. As you passed the fireplace, something caught your eye: a piece of paper tucked into one of the stockings. You reached for it carefully, your fingers brushing the corner stained with blood.

You unfolded it with precision, revealing the scrawled words in black ink. The sentence was short and written in Latin, a language you hadn’t encountered in years. You stared at it, furrowing your brow as you tried to make sense of it.

“You wouldn’t happen to know Latin, would you?” You asked Rossi, half-joking, though the seriousness in your voice remained.

Rossi looked up, his expression a mix of confusion and dry humor. “Does it look like I know Latin?”

You smiled, already pulling your phone out of your pocket and speed dialing Spencer. As the phone rang, you turned your attention back to the paper, the blood spatter still making your stomach turn.

“Hey,” you breathed out as he picked up the phone after the second ring.

“Hey,” Spencer replied. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft with concern, your single syllable being enough for him to decipher how you feel.

You glanced over your shoulder at the murdered family, swallowing hard before turning away. “I will be,” you responded. Once that fucker is behind bars.

You straightened, pushing the thoughts away, and focused on the task at hand. “I’ve just found a piece of paper at the crime scene. It’s a text written in Latin. I figured it’d be quicker to ask you than wait for Garcia to look it up.”

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment. “Good call. What does it say?”

You glanced at the paper again, stumbling slightly over the unfamiliar words. “Nunc sciunt te perfectum non esse.”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line before Spencer spoke, his voice calm but precise. “Nunc sciunt te perfectum non esse. ‘Now they know you’re not perfect.’” His perfect Latin pronunciation made you wince at how poorly you’d read it.

“What’s that supposed to mean? A taunt?”

Spencer’s voice was thoughtful. “Sounds like he’s trying to prove something. It’s definitely personal.”

You exchanged a look with Rossi, who was standing nearby, holding the broken picture frame. “Yeah, that’s what we’ve been thinking. Whoever this unsub is, he knows the Reynolds family intimately.”

“Garcia’s already digging into the family’s background,” Spencer replied without missing a beat, already a step ahead.

“Good,” you muttered, relief washing over you for a moment. “How are things going over there?”

“JJ’s been trying to reach family, but they don’t live nearby,” Spencer answered. “A snowstorm hit. I’ve been tracking the meteorological data, and the chances of them making it are close to zero.”

You nodded, a dull ache settling in your chest. “Well, I’m going to keep looking around here. The bodies will be picked up soon to go to the lab, and then I’ll be heading over to the station.”

“Alright,” Spencer replied, his tone warmer now. “I’ll see you there. Be careful.”

“Always am,” you said, offering a small smile even though he couldn’t see it.

The words on the note kept drifting through your mind. Maybe it was the sentiment that came with Christmas—or maybe it was the fact that, up until now, you were having a perfect holiday, something you never thought you’d get to experience—that made the scene remind you of your childhood. How everything looked so joyous from the outside, especially during the holidays. But if you looked closely, you’d see the cracks. The ornaments on the tree, hastily glued together, their edges jagged and uneven. The hole in the wall, cleverly concealed behind your stocking.

You were probably overthinking it. After all, it wasn’t the family that was broken like yours was—it was the unsub who had shattered their picture-perfect life.

Rossi’s voice broke through your thoughts. “You okay, kid?”

You blinked, pulling yourself out of the past and into the present. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s get out of here.”

You and Rossi walked into the secluded room the Sheriff had arranged for the team, exchanging your findings with Morgan and Prentiss along the way. You’d made a quick stop at a Chinese takeaway to grab food for everyone, knowing the team needed fuel for the long hours ahead.

The rest of the team was already seated around the table, and Reid was in the middle of showing Hotch something on the map of the neighborhood.

“Oh, you guys are the best!” Penelope sighed, her voice full of appreciation as she caught sight of the plastic bags you were carrying.

“We couldn’t leave you to go hungry,” Emily responded with a grin.

You took a seat closest to where Spencer was standing, and he naturally slid into the chair beside you. You reached into the bag and pulled out the only plastic fork, knowing he’d struggle with chopsticks. He flashed you a grateful, closed-lip smile as he took it from you.

Once everyone had filled their plates, the conversation turned back to the case.

“Garcia dug up some useful info,” JJ began. “Stephen Reynolds owned a construction company that’s on the verge of going bankrupt. It’s possible the unsub was an employee who got fired—or was cut loose because the company couldn’t afford him anymore.”

“It seems like the whole family was targeted,” you added, leaning forward. “The note was left in one of the children’s stockings. It doesn’t feel like the murder was just directed at Stephen.”

“That’s why we need to find out more about the Reynolds family outside of their neighborhood,” Hotch said. “The employees at the construction company could have insight. It’s clear the neighbors aren’t going to give us much.”

Rossi’s eyes narrowed, a skeptical look on his face. “Did they really not give you anything? The neighbors, I mean.”

Prentiss shook her head. “Nothing useful. They kept insisting that the Reynolds’s were a perfect family. They even seemed offended when I pressed for more.”

“That doesn’t sit right. The note specifically mentioned how the Reynolds’s are not perfect.” Rossi replied.

“I gotta give it to them, though,” Garcia chimed in. “The Reynolds’s are model citizens. The parents were both heavily involved in charity, and the kids have won multiple prizes in spelling bees and other competitions.”

“Has anything bad ever happened in that neighborhood?” Morgan asked, clearly skeptical about the idea of perfection.

Penelope clicked away on her laptop. “Well, there was a fire in one of the houses about ten years ago, because of damaged Christmas lights.” She made a sad face as she continued searching. “Oh, and a cat got stuck in a tree once… didn’t make it.”

“What happened to the family in the house?” Spencer asked.

Penelope’s fingers paused over the keys. “Uh, let me see… The Eriksens died from smoke inhalation. Oh… this is sad. They left a child, Christopher Eriksen. He was put into foster care when he was just eight.”

“Did the Reynolds’s live there when that happened?” JJ asked.

“Yeah, they did. Actually, they organized a fundraiser to build a bench with the parents’ names engraved on it, in their memory.”

You felt your pulse quicken at the mention of the bench. Something about it seemed strangely familiar, but you couldn’t trust your mind right now—not with everything still scattered from the case, and the ghosts of your past tugging at the edges of your thoughts.

You could feel Spencer’s gaze on you, but you decided to ignore it, keeping your focus on Hotch as he spoke up.

“It’s best if we head back to the cabin to rest up,” he said. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day, and the station’s closing tonight so everyone can spend time with their families.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, the relief of getting some rest evident on their faces. But as the team began gathering their things, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that had settled in your chest. You hated the idea of putting the case on hold, even if it was just for the night. The face of that little boy kept haunting your thoughts, his wide eyes silently pleading for answers, for peace. You couldn’t help but feel like you were letting him down.

Spencer’s hand snakes up on your shoulder, his warm hold holding you in place. His lips barely moved as he mouthed, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you whispered, shaking your head.

The entire car ride had been silent. Spencer’s gaze would occasionally flicker over to you in the backseat, but you kept your eyes fixated on the road, watching the scenery blur past.

The silence stretched on as you said your goodnights to the rest of the team and walked toward your shared room with Spencer. As you both got ready for bed, there was an unspoken tension hanging in the air. Now, lying in the king-sized bed, you both stared up at the ceiling, the quiet stillness between you thick with unspoken words.

“When are we finally going to talk about what’s wrong?” Spencer’s voice broke the silence, careful but insistent.

You stayed quiet for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts. “Nothing’s wrong,” you replied, your words coming out a little too quickly.

“There’s obviously something wrong,” he pressed gently. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know,” you answered, your voice softer now, more honest. Usually, Spencer never had to press. There was something about him—something warm and patient—that made it easy to open up, to share your thoughts without fear of judgment. But this time, it felt different. It wasn’t just the case. It felt personal, something you couldn’t fully explain.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” you said, thinking aloud. “It’s just… something’s off. And I don’t know if it’s just me.”

“What do you feel?” His question was quiet, but his concern was clear.

You hesitated. “It sounds stupid,” you muttered, brushing it off.

“Nothing you could say would sound stupid to me.” His words, soft and sincere, made your chest tighten with warmth. You turned your head to look at him, noticing the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered on you.

“You thought it was stupid that I shower at 115 degrees,” you said with a playful smile.

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, the tension easing just a little. “I don’t think it’s stupid that you like it,” he said, his voice gentle. “I just think it’s stupid that you’d risk hurting yourself over it.”

His eyes warmly looked at you. One hand rested underneath his pillow as he lay on his side. You turned toward him, mirroring his position.

"I’m really struggling with this case," you softly admitted, trying to keep eye contact, though your gaze flickered down, betraying the weight of your words.

“Was it hard seeing the crime scene?”

"Yeah," you choked out, your throat tight. You blinked quickly to try to stop the tears that threatened to spill. “It was... it was horrible.”

His hand reached out to gently rub your bare arm under the blanket. "It’s completely normal to feel affected by what you saw," he began, his voice steady but laced with the kind of empathy that only someone like him could offer. "Witnessing something as violent and horrific as the bodies of two children—it’s traumatic. The brain processes trauma in complex ways, especially when it involves young victims. According to studies in neuropsychology, traumatic experiences, particularly those involving children, can cause the brain to release a surge of stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline. This flood of chemicals can lead to acute emotional responses, such as anxiety and flashbacks.”

“I’ve been experiencing flashbacks,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. You met his gaze, looking for reassurance, and he gave you the space to speak, waiting patiently. “It actually started earlier today, when we arrived at the cabin. I’ve never experienced a Christmas like this, you know, the kind that feels warm and joyful. I- I don’t know if I’m making connections that aren’t there, but the feeling I had in that house was the same feeling I used to get when I was growing up.”

He tilted his head. "What feeling?"

“...Jealousy.”

His eyebrows knitted. “Jealousy?”

You nodded, swallowing hard, gathering your thoughts. “You could feel so much rage in there. Everything that made the home feel homey—that warmth, that love—was completely shattered. The way the unsub positioned the family members under the Christmas tree, the way the note was tucked into the stocking… There’s a reason for it. Christmas represents this idealized view of perfection. I don’t think the message was to prove that the company going bankrupt is some sort of imperfection in the family’s picture-perfect life. No, it feels like the unsub was jealous of their happiness. Of the fact that they had a family who seemed perfect—something he never had. He wanted to destroy it. To ruin their happiness. He could never have it, so he shattered the illusion of perfection entirely.”

Spencer was quiet for a moment, processing your words. “So you think the Reynolds’s were targeted as surrogates?”

“I guess so. But you don’t just stumble across a neighborhood as desolate as theirs.” you responded.

“It could still be one of the employees of the construction company. If Stephen bragged about his perfect family to the wrong person, it could have triggered something.”

You hummed in agreement, but Spencer could see there was more on your mind. He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

“As I got older, I learned that blaming others wasn’t going to make me feel any better about my situation. It’s like the unsub hasn’t realized that yet. The way he executed this crime—it’s almost like a child throwing a tantrum. He was so meticulous in setting everything up, and then once he got what he wanted, he just… walked away. There was no care for the aftermath, no consideration of what would happen afterward.”

“Do you think the unsub could still be a child?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Your mind clicked, and for the first time, the puzzle pieces seemed to fit together. “How old was the kid when he was put into foster care?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

“Eight. Why?” Spencer's confusion was evident.

“It’s been ten years since that house caught fire. That would make him eighteen now, and—"

Spencer’s eyes widened as realization struck. “And that he just got out of foster care.”

"Exactly," you said, rolling out of bed and storming downstairs.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Spencer called after you, quickly grabbing his cardigan from the chair in the corner of the room before hurrying to catch up.

“Be quiet, I don’t want to wake anyone.” You instructed, feeling Spencer’s presence behind you as you moved toward the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” he hissed in a whisper as you opened Garcia’s laptop on the table. You didn’t respond, your fingers already flying over the keys as you settled into a chair.

Spencer huffed, knowing full well there was no stopping you once your mind was set. He hovered behind you, draping the cardigan over your shoulders. “I’m not covering for you if Garcia finds out,” he warned, glancing over your shoulder at the screen.

“That’s fine. I know exactly what to say to win her over,” you said nonchalantly, clicking away. In your mind, the image of Spencer in the shower was still vivid—a story you could easily use to distract Penelope if it came to that.

You paused, your heart skipping a beat as you found the file. “Here it is,” you muttered, eyes scanning the information on Christopher Eriksen. You clicked to open it fully, Spencer already reading ahead of you.

“They found bruises all over his body when he was put into foster care,” he read aloud, his voice tense as the words sank in.

You leaned forward, your breath catching. “This is it,” you murmured. “His parents— they must’ve bought into that ‘perfect family’ image of the neighborhood, but behind closed doors, they were hiding this. Can you imagine what it must’ve been like for him? Everyone thinking his parents were saints, while they were hurting him? All the while, they’re the ones who get a memorial bench, their lives celebrated while they tortured him.”

“It was on Christmas that he was put into foster care. Now, it’s the first Christmas since he’s been out. It makes sense to go back to the place where it all started,” Spencer concluded.

“I need to go there,” you said urgently, slamming the laptop shut.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Spencer asked, bewildered. He immediately followed you as you rushed to the door, still in your pajamas. “You’re not seriously planning on going out like that?”

“It’s just a quick peek. I need to see if I was right about the bench,” you said, almost to yourself, already focused on the task ahead. You didn’t even glance behind you as you pulled on your shoes and yanked open the front door, wrapping Spencer’s cardigan tighter around yourself to ward off the cold.

In moments like these, Spencer knew exactly who had trained you. You were unmistakably like Gideon—determined, single-minded, and often impulsive once your mind was set. And that, in turn, always left Spencer in a state of mild panic.

“You can’t drive at night,” he said, his voice rising with concern as he followed you into the snow-covered yard. “You have nyctalopia!”

You didn’t stop, your focus unwavering. “You should take night-blindness seriously, it takes forever for your pupils to dilate, and by that time, you’ve already missed the stop sign or, I don’t know, hit a pothole or something. Your contrast sensitivity goes down, so objects blend into the background, and—did I mention the glare from headlights? Because that’s a huge problem, and it makes it worse! You’re already having trouble seeing, and now the glare from every car that passes is just blinding you. It's like trying to navigate in a fog, but it’s just light fog, which—okay, that’s a really bad analogy, but you get the point!”

His words fell into the background as you continued walking, your mind fully occupied with proving your theory. The case had been driving you mad. If you could just confirm that the bench was broken—that Christopher was the one who’d done it in a moment of anger—everything would click. The case would be solved. You’d give the Reynolds family peace. And, selfishly, you’d give yourself peace.

“Please,” Spencer begged, now standing in front of the car door, blocking your path. “If you’re going, at least let me drive.”

His comment made you halt in front of the car. “You hate driving,” you pointed out.

“I’d rather be uncomfortable for a few minutes than risk something happening to you,” he admitted.

You stared at him, feeling a surge of gratitude for how much he cared, how he believed your theory and was willing to go along with you.

You reached out and took his hands. It was a gesture he rarely tolerated from anyone, but you’d learned over the years that Spencer appreciated it when it came from you. You looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. “Thanks, Spence,” you said softly, the words simple but your voice full of appreciation.

He swallowed, his eyes softening as he nodded. “We’ll just take a quick look, right?”

“I swear,” you promised, a reassuring smile tugging at your lips. “Just a quick look.”

He sighed, still clearly uneasy but unwilling to argue. You handed him the car keys and moved to the passenger side, sliding into the seat.

—————

Spencer slowed the car as you neared the familiar area, the headlights casting long shadows over the snowy driveway.

"Let’s stop the car here," you suggested. The thought crossed your mind just in time—it would be very inappropriate to drive into a quiet neighborhood with an unknown car at this hour, especially after a murder had taken place.

You and Spencer stepped out of the car, the cold biting at your skin as you walked side by side. You stayed close to him, partly to keep warm, partly to follow his tracks through the snow, the dark pressing in around you. The Christmas lights that had lit up the neighborhood earlier were now off, leaving everything shrouded in an eerie quiet.

You made your way to the bench. Your hand skimmed over the smooth wood, lingering on the top right corner where you felt a distinct break—something sharp and jagged where a piece had clearly been broken off. You exhaled in relief. You were right.

Spencer’s hand shot out to gently grab your wrist, his fingers warm against the cold night air. "Careful," he said, his voice low but insistent. "You don’t want splinters. Stay here, I’ll grab a flashlight from the car."

You nodded, watching as his footsteps faded into the distance, swallowed by the thick darkness around you.

Alone now, you scanned the area. Everything was still and silent, save for the occasional crunch of snow beneath your feet. Your eyes were drawn to a dim light flickering from inside the rebuilt house where the Eriksens used to live, just past the bench. Curiosity nudged you forward, and before you could second-guess yourself, your feet were already moving toward the light.

You crept closer to the window, standing on your toes to peer inside. The house was barely furnished, still very much in the process of being worked on before it could be sold. You pressed your hands against the cold glass, forming makeshift goggles with your fingers, your face just inches away from the window as you tried to get a better look.

A sudden pressure on your stomach snapped you out of your thoughts. Before you could react, an arm tightened around your waist, yanking you away from the glass. For a brief moment you thought Spencer was playing some kind of prank, trying to startle you—but the movement was so fast and forceful, you knew Spencer would never grab you that aggressively.

Your gasp caught in your throat, immediately silenced as a cold, rough hand clamped over your mouth. Panic surged, but your body went stiff when the sharp edge of a knife pressed to your throat. You didn’t need any further confirmation that this was the unsub.

"I don’t know who you are," the voice rasped, low and dangerous, his breath hot and heavy in your ear. "But you shouldn’t have shown up here."

The tension in his voice was unmistakable. You could feel his rage, his plan disrupted by your unexpected presence. Every instinct screamed at you to fight back, but you remained frozen, knowing that one wrong move could end it all.

“I didn’t plan on killing anyone innocent, but you’ve put yourself in this situation,” he spat, his grip tightening on the knife.

In that fleeting moment, you made a decision. Taking a leap of faith, you sank your teeth into the soft flesh of his palm. The sudden bite startled him, and by sheer luck, he loosened his grip on the weapon.

“Christopher!” You shouted, the name ringing out with urgency.

It was enough to catch him off guard. In that instant, you turned, quickly positioning yourself with a better angle. He was taller than you—still, just a boy, consumed by something far beyond his control. His pain was evident, lurking beneath the fury in his eyes. You knew this wasn’t what he wanted.

“Who are you?” His voice was strained, the words gripping with suspicion and confusion.

“I’m here to help you,” you said sincerely, keeping your voice steady.

“No, you’re not,” he denied.

“I swear I am. I know what happened to you. I know what your parents did to you.”

Without warning, he shoved you hard against the house. Your head slammed into the window, a sharp pain exploding in your skull. “You don’t know anything!” he screamed.

“I do, Christopher. I do!” The words came from a place of desperation, your breath ragged. “I understand. I know how much this eats at you, how alone you feel because you’re the only one who knows the truth. But it doesn’t have to be like this. You don’t have to hurt anyone else. The truth will come out. People will know what your parents did, what really happened here. You’ll get what you want, the world will see that they’re not perfect.”

For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—something soft, vulnerable.

“They all knew what happened!” He said in anger, pointing at the houses surrounding you. “They all knew and no one said anything!” He shook his head, “I’ll never get what I want. It’s too late for that.” he muttered bitterly.

Despite his words, you felt a flicker of hope. He was talking. He was listening. That had to count for something.

“It’s not too late, Christopher,” you said, your voice gentle but firm. “I thought the same thing once. But family… family isn’t just the people you’re born to. You can build your own, one that will love you despite everything. I’ve got that family now.”

He swallowed hard, his face momentarily flickering with doubt. “I wish I could believe you,” he said, his voice quiet, tinged with regret.

And then, in a flash, his arm shot out. Instinctively, you braced yourself, squeezing your eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable strike.

As the seconds stretched on, memories—both regrets and cherished moments—flashed before your eyes, a cruel reminder of everything you had to lose.

But then, a loud thud echoed in the night. Christopher crumpled to the ground, his body going limp. You whipped your head up, heart in throat, and saw Spencer standing behind him, the butt of his gun covered in blood, the impact of the blow knocking Christopher out cold.

A shaky breath escaped you, half a sob, half a gasp of relief. You stumbled toward Spencer, your legs nearly giving out as you threw yourself into his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried into his chest, voice cracking. “I was so stupid. I shouldn’t have—”

He shushed you softly, brushing a hand through your hair as he held you close. “It’s okay. You’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

Twenty minutes later, the team and the police arrived. Spencer had called Hotch the second you’d calmed down enough, and by the time they got there, Christopher was still passed out. The officers dragged him into the back of their car, while JJ and Prentiss took it upon themselves to reassure the neighbors that they had someone in custody.

You knew exactly what was coming when Hotch finally made his way over to you and Spencer, but your head was pounding too much to care.

Hotch scanned the two of you with a sharp, disapproving look. “Really? You went to catch an unsub in your pajamas?”

“The whole ‘catching the unsub’ thing wasn’t exactly part of the plan,” you muttered, wincing slightly as the headache flared.

Hotch exhaled sharply, then turned to Spencer, his gaze a little more pointed. “I could’ve expected this from her, but I expected better from you, Reid.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, knowing there was no defense. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Hotch gave a sigh in response, his expression softening just a fraction. “I’m too tired to deal with the two of you right now. I expect to see both of you in my office in the morning.”

“Actually, I checked all the rooms in the cabin, and there’s no office. Which is surprising, considering—”

“Spence,” you interrupted him with a nudge of your elbow.

He shot you a tight-lipped look, turning back to Hotch. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

—————

The second you closed the car door behind you and buckled your seatbelt, you passed out. You’d always slept best during car rides, and especially now, with your mind much quieter now that Christopher Eriksen wasn’t your problem anymore.

When you finally arrived back at the cabin, you were still sound asleep. Derek told Spencer to wake you, but he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he carefully made his way to your side of the car, unbuckling your seatbelt. He lifted you into his arms, trying not to huff too loudly as he carried you through the thick snow. He made his way up the stairs quickly, hoping Penelope wouldn’t notice the wet tracks from his boots inside the house—he couldn’t take them off while holding you.

He was glad you were in your pajamas as he gently laid you on the bed. He walked over to the closet, grabbing some extra blankets and draping them over you, hoping it would help you regain some warmth.

Then, he crawled into bed beside you. Closer than he would’ve dared if you were awake, not quite touching, but close enough to share body heat. His gaze lingered on you, watching how peaceful you looked. The night had been a lot to handle, but he knew he’d do it all again if it meant keeping you safe.

The bright light reflected off the snow outside, filtering into the room. Groaning, you rubbed your eyes, the movement only making your headache worse. You huffed and carefully opened your eyes, being met with the sight of Spencer. His hair was a curly mess, and a small, warm smile painted his face.

“Hey, how’s your head?” he asked softly.

The events of last night rushed back to you, and you groaned again. “So, all of that really happened?”

“It did,” Spencer confirmed.

“I really hoped I just got drunk on too much Glühwein,” you sighed, wincing at the thought.

“You can still do that tonight,” he teased.

“No,” you muttered in disgust. “I need to recover from this first.”

You glanced over at him again, seeing the concern still shining in his eyes.

“I’m sorry for putting you in that situation last night,” you said quietly. “Everything about it was just... stupid.”

“If you hadn’t insisted on going, who knows who else he could’ve hurt,” Spencer pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.” You thought about it for a second, the weight lifting slightly. “Still, I shouldn’t have dragged you into it.”

“I’m glad I went with you,” Spencer said, his voice softening. “If I hadn’t... I don’t want to think about what could’ve happened to you. I would never forgive myself if I wouldn’t have been there in time.”

You gave a heavy sigh, turning your gaze to the ceiling. “That’s why it’s probably best we stay friends,” you mumbled, more to yourself than to him. Despite Emily’s pep talk, this was proof that it wouldn’t be wise to start something serious with Spencer.

“Friends instead of what?” Spencer asked, his voice higher, as if eager to hear the answer.

“Instead of us dating,” you said, almost offhandedly, not realizing you were speaking aloud about something you’d never discussed before, even though the topic would come up eventually.

Spencer froze, his eyes wide, hope flickering in them as he looked at you. “You would date me?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You froze too, catching up with the fact that you had said that out loud. Your cheeks warmed, and you immediately turned your gaze to the ceiling, not daring to look at his expression.

“Uh—hypothetically,” you stammered, scrambling to cover your tracks.

“You would hypothetically date me?”

You swallowed, still too flustered to look at him. “Yes. If... you would, I mean. If you wanted that, too...?”

Spencer was silent for a beat, his gaze never leaving you. “Do you really mean that?”

“Yes,” you answered, your voice steady despite the racing thoughts in your head.

He slowly moved closer to you, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. You flinched back instinctively, and he immediately withdrew his hand, his expression apologetic.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your heart beating faster.

“You said you’d want to date me,” he murmured, his voice unsure.

“Yes, but—” you stopped yourself as the realization hit that he was planning to kiss you. “Oh.”

Tentatively, you reached out and placed your hand on his cheek. You leaned in a little, but this time it was him who pulled back.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice breathless.

“Kissing you.”

“Oh,” he breathed out, his tongue darting over his lips. “Okay.”

You smiled softly, then closed the distance, your lips gently pressing to his.

Spencer hummed in satisfaction, both of you staying like that for a moment, neither of you wanting to pull away. You were the first to break the kiss, catching your breath. If it were up to Spencer, he’d keep his lips on yours forever.

Your eyes fluttered open, faces still inches apart. Spencer cupped your face and pulled you back in, placing several soft pecks on your lips before he leaned on his arm, slightly hovering over you as he deepened the kiss.

You tried to mirror his movements, but a sharp pain shot through your skull. “Ouch,” you hissed, pulling back.

“Just lay down, let me take care of you,” Spencer assured, the warmth of his words making your heart flutter. You slowly lower yourself onto your back, the soft sheets crinkling beneath you, and Spencer moves above you, the blankets still covering both of you.

His lips found yours again. He kept them slightly parted, giving you the chance to slide your tongue against his. The world outside seemed to disappear as you melted into each other, lips moving in sync.

The kisses become more heated, each one a little deeper than the last. His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek, the other hand resting on your side, his touch sending little sparks of warmth wherever it brushed.

You could feel the heat between you growing. “I’m so warm…” you mumbled against his lips.

His eyes darkened slightly. “Yeah?” His voice was rough as his fingers lightly trailed over the buttons of your pyjama shirt. “Do you want me to take this off?”

You nodded, and he slowly started undoing each button with purposeful care. His gaze flickering between your eyes and the exposed skin. He let out a moan when your shirt finally fell open, his eyes taking you in.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out in awe, before pressing his lips to yours again.

You responded eagerly, your hands fumbling between your bodies to undo his shirt in the same way. You slid the fabric off his shoulders, letting your hands run over the muscles of his back, feeling the heat of his skin.

He gently pressed his body weight down on you, and you shuddered at the feeling of your nipples pressing against his bare chest.

His lips delicately kissed your face, until he reached your ear. He nipped at your lobe, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. “Do you like that?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You answered in a soft moan, your body arching into him. He didn’t need to ask again; he could tell you were enjoying this as much as he was.

His lips slid lower, kissing and sucking on your neck, while his hand slid down to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing circles.

His mouth moved to your collarbone, and then he teasingly dipped lower.

“God, Spence,” you softly moaned as he placed a wet kiss on your lower stomach. “That feels so good.”

His hand, which has been resting on your breast, trails down until it reaches the waistband of your pyjama pants.

“More, please,” you whimpered, lifting your hips instinctively. His fingers slide around the band as he slowly pulls them down, his eyes drinking in the sight of you.

He lowers himself onto his stomach on the mattress. With a tender touch, he lifts your legs over his shoulders.

“Is this okay?”

For a moment, you’ve lost yourself in his gaze—those warm brown eyes looking up at you, his pink lips swollen from his kisses…

“Y-yeah,” you manage to respond, nodding.

You moaned as his mouth made contact with your inner thighs, his tongue warm and wet against your skin. He took his time, kissing his way to the sensitive spot where you needed him most.

“Spencer…” you breathed, your voice shaky with need.

The anticipation was unbearable as his hot breath tickled you, but you didn’t have to wait much longer. Slowly, his tongue flicked over your pussy, and you gasped, your body trembling at the touch.

He moaned in response, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, his tongue swirling in soft, teasing motions that had your hips lifting off the bed in search of more.

“So fucking sweet,” he muttered against you, before repeating the motion, licking you again and again, while he grinded himself against the matress.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, urging him closer, deeper, your body quivering as he continued. He alternated between sucking and licking your clit, his finger moving up and down your pussy until it entered you gently, then slowly adding another, the stretch an overwhelming pleasure.

You gasped his name, your body writhing beneath him as the pressure built with every move. “Spencer… please, don’t stop…” you begged, voice thick with need.

His fingers curled inside you, pressing just the right spot as his tongue continued swirling around you. Your legs started trembling as you reached the edge.

“I’m—“ you gasped, but the words dissolved into a string of moans as the wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your legs were shaking as you came undone, clenching around his fingers, your hips bucking against his mouth.

Spencer didn’t stop, though. He kept going at a gentle pace, letting you ride out the intensity of your orgasm. Then, he slowly pulled away, his lips glistening as he looked up at you, eyes wide and full of wonder.

“Was that good?” he asked softly, licking his lips.

You laughed breathlessly as you nodded, your chest still rising and falling rapidly. “Come here,” you whispered seductively, pulling him in by the back of his neck to kiss him. You could taste yourself on his lips, which only added to your arousal.

Spencer’s eyes darkened with desire, his forehead pressed to yours. “I need you. I need to be inside of you.”

You nodded, moving your hand down his body, feeling the hardness of him against your palm. He helped you pull his pants down, and you stroked him gently, feeling him twitch in your hand before guiding him toward your entrance. He let out a low groan, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly pushed into you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moaned, his hips stuttering as he filled you completely. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as his thrusts grew deeper, more urgent.

You could feel every inch of him, every movement as his cock repeatedly hit those places inside that made your head spin. The room was filled with the sound of skin against skin, your moans mixing with his ragged breaths.

“You’re so warm,” Spencer whimpered. “So perfect for me.”

Your hands gripped his back, nails digging into his skin as you urged him on, your body moving with his. His pace quickened, and you couldn’t hold back the desperate cries that escaped you.

“Spencer… I’m so close,” you gasped.

“Me too,” he moaned, his hips slamming into yours. “Let me come with you. Please, let me come with you.”

You nodded, your body trembling. “Now, Spencer…” you begged in a breathless plea.

His breath hitched, his body tensing as he gave one last deep thrust, and then, with a loud, guttural moan, he came inside you. You followed a moment later, your body clenching around him as you fell apart.

The room was filled with nothing but your ragged breaths, the sound of two bodies, tangled in a quiet, shared moment of bliss. Spencer collapsed beside you, his chest rising and falling as he took your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“That was… perfect,” he whispered, his voice full of awe.

You smiled softly as you placed your head on his chest, fingers lazily tracing his stomach. “Yeah,” you said in a breath, your heart full of him. “It really was.”

You let out a soft groan as Spencer stood up, and you instinctively reached for his hand, pulling him back toward you. “Don’t go yet,” you pouted.

Spencer smiled, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. “I’ve got something for you,” he said, wrapping a blanket around his waist before walking to the corner of the room. He rummaged through his bag, his back turned to you for a moment as you blatantly checked him out.

“I miss you,” you murmured, leaning back into the pillows.

He chuckled softly, glancing over his shoulder. “I’m not even five feet away from you.”

You shrugged, your voice a little teasing. “Still feels like you're miles away.”

With a smile, he walked back toward you, sitting down on the edge of the bed, his hands behind his back. “Which hand?” he playfully asked.

“Left,” you replied without hesitation.

He swiftly shifted the small box he’d been holding from his right hand to his left, then grinned, revealing the gift. “Here you go.”

You blinked in surprise. “That was your present?” you asked, your voice filled with wonder as you recognized the familiar wrapping Garcia had handed you the day before.

Spencer nodded, watching you closely. “Yeah. Open it.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you unwrapped the gift, your heart racing with excitement. Beneath the paper was a velvet black jewelry box. You glanced up at Spencer, your eyes searching his for reassurance. He gave a soft nod, his smile encouraging.

With a gentle flick of your fingers, you opened the box—and there, nestled inside, was the most stunning heart-shaped locket you’d ever seen.

“Oh my God, Spencer,” you breathed, your voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “It’s… it’s beautiful.”

A shy smile tugged at Spencer’s lips as he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it behind his ear. “It used to be my mom’s,” he said. “She doesn’t wear jewelry much anymore, but she wanted me to keep it... to give it to someone special one day.”

Your heart melted at the thought, and you looked at him with newfound tenderness, the weight of his gesture sinking in.

“She was happy when I told her I wanted to give it to you,” he added, his eyes soft with sincerity.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Your mom knows about me?”

Spencer nodded, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I tell her pretty much everything. She likes hearing about you most.”

“Why?” You curiously asked.

Spencer's smile deepened, and he looked down at his lap for a moment, as though gathering courage. When he looked up at you again, his eyes were soft, full of love.

“Because you make me happy.”

After your intimate moment with Spencer, the inevitable conversation with Hotch had to happen. Just before the talk, Hotch received a call from the lab confirming the DNA found on the Reynolds matched Christopher Eriksen’s—meaning the bittersweet news of Christopher going to prison.

“I still don’t get how the two smartest people on the team act like half a brain when they’re together,” Hotch had said with a half-smile, glancing at you and Spencer. “But… you did good work.”

—————

Later that morning, Emily spotted you, her eyes immediately drawn to the locket around your neck. “Fancy,” she commented, her smirk growing as she cocked an eyebrow. “Where did that come from?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you absently played with the necklace, a soft smile on your lips. “It’s Spencer’s. He gave it to me.”

Emily’s smirk turned into a knowing smile, and you could see the proud glint in her eyes. “You two are something else.”

—————

Throughout the day you and Spencer did your own thing, trying to act casual in front of the team—yet every time his hand brushed your back or he leaned in for a quick kiss in the empty hallway, your heart fluttered. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at him as he played chess with Rossi, your eyes catching his in those fleeting moments.

You felt Spencer’s presence behind you like a familiar warmth as you stood in the kitchen. He slipped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses.

“Who would’ve thought you’d be such a romantic?” you mused, running your fingers through his hair, the feeling of him against you enough to make your heart race.

His lips hummed against your skin. “It’s your fault,” he stated, his voice thick with affection. “You drive me crazy.”

You tugged him up the stairs to your shared room, pushing him playfully onto the bed. You stood between his legs as you began to slowly peel away your clothes, revealing the red laced lingerie set Derek had gifted you during Secret Santa.

“Never thought I’d be thanking Derek for gifting you this,” Spencer mused, his hands sliding up and down your legs, a smirk displayed on his lips.

You smiled, tracing his jaw with your thumb, the heat between you growing. “What do you think of checking out the hot tub?” you purred.

He swallowed nervously, his eyes flicking down to his lap. You rolled your eyes as you responded in a sigh, “You can choose the temperature.”

Before you could say another word, he scooped you up, lifting you over his shoulder with a playful slap to your ass. You yelped, giggling as he carried you off toward the bathroom.

—————

The cabin was large, but unfortunately not big enough to avoid Garcia, so you knew what was coming when you heard the familiar sound of her heels clicking against the hallway floor. She was heading straight toward you, her finger pointing accusingly at you.

“I slept with Spencer.” you hurriedly spilled out before she could say something.

She stopped in her tracks. Her face went through a thousand different expressions in the blink of an eye—confusion, disbelief, excitement—before she finally let out a high-pitched squeal. “You... you slept with Spencer?”

“Twice,” you giddily answered, the smile creeping across your face before you could stop it.

Garcia’s expression finally broke into a huge grin, and without missing a beat, she grabbed your hands and started bouncing on the spot. “Derek is gonna lose his mind!”

You barely had time to protest before she was already up the stairs.

As the end of the day drew near, the group gathered around the fire pit in the backyard, cocoa mugs in hand, the warmth of the flames casting flickering shadows on everyone’s faces.

“Are you sure your phone is on silent?” Garcia asked Hotch, eyeing him with suspicion.

“I’m sure, Garcia,” Hotch replied with a small smile.

She was satisfied, her focus shifting to Rossi. “The honor is yours. You may present the last Secret Santa gift.”

Rossi cleared his throat, glancing around awkwardly. “Now, this might sound like a cheap excuse for forgetting to buy a present…” Laughter rippled through the group, and Garcia shot him an offended look. “But... I think I can speak for all of us when I say the best gift is us being together in this beautiful location.”

He turned to Hotch, his voice genuine. “Aaron, you’ve built a good team here. A good family. You should be proud.”

Hotch’s smile softened, his eyes briefly glancing over the group, the weight of the moment settling on him. “I am. Thank you, David.”

And for the first time, you didn’t question whether you deserved a place in this loving, dysfunctional family—you knew you belonged.

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