pervy bf!yuji who gives you a âmilk moustacheâ with his precum and takes pictures of it for later before lowering your mouth onto his length.
pervy bf!yuji found out that you used to use your plushies / pillows to masterbate so now he rubs against them at any chance he gets.
pervy bf!yuji rings you up and tricks you into saying dirty sounding things so he can record the call and jack off to it later.
if you have something on your lips like chocolate or whipped cream, pervy bf!yuji will lean in and lick it off with a smirk.
pervy bf!yuji gets hard during petty arguments and will palm himself through his trousers while you go off at him, waiting for you to notice. sometimes heâll even ask you to slap him across the face to atone for what heâs done, (because heâs usually in the wrong) and before you know it, his length is out and heâs stroking himself openly while his other hand rubs his sore cheek.
pervy bf!yuji who trails his fingers up your skirt in public when no one is looking, just to hear you gasp before he takes his hand away again.
pervy bf!yuji who pulls out of you and writes âyuji itaâ on your back / ass with his come to mark you as his. (he would write his whole name but there usually isnât enough⊠material)
pervy bf!yuji has cummed on pretty much all parts of you. he even makes a chart in his notes app to tick off body parts heâs covered like itâs an accomplishment.
last time, he grinded his dick desperately against the curve of your left foot, moaning loudly and holding your heel up before he went soft and your foot was covered with come. he did the right foot about a day later.
in summer, pervy bf!yuji uses your cooling neck towel and wraps it around his length, hissing at the cold as he slowly rubs it up and down the heat of his dick. later when he sees you looking for it heâll hand it to you and watch you cover your face with it, grinning innocently.
Dennis Whitaker who grew up kind of repressed and is now very sensitive as a resultÂ
His countryside upbringing, combined with the religious traditions his family followed, meant that by the time Dennis ends up as your lover, he's borderline touch-starved and can barely handle the physical affection you bless him with. He's already kicking himself for all the nights he's spent dreaming of your body pressed against his, wishing he was in better control of the way his mind wanders back to you at every available opportunity.Â
So when you're straddling his lap on your couch, just letting your kisses turn slower and messier as you enjoy the feeling of being this close to him, Dennis is fighting for his life. Every taste of your tongue against his has his head spinning, and when he feels your teeth close ever so softly around his bottom lip for a moment he's genuinely concerned he's about to cry. He's been achingly hard since you held his hand for the walk back to your place, and he's sure you must be able to feel his dick straining against his jeans underneath you. He's trying so hard not to move his hips, but every fibre of his being absolutely burning for release, his senses completely overwhelmed by your proximity. You pull back for a second to smile softly at him, totally relaxed and composed as your lips press back against his, setting the leisurely pace for your innocent make out session.Â
You lift one arm from where it rests on Dennis's shoulders so you can run your fingers through his hair, a gesture so intimate to Dennis that he has to choke back a moan before it escapes against your lips. He feels dizzy with how intense the throbbing between his legs is, desperately trying to hold it together so you don't realize what a loser he is quite so early into dating him. His hands are resting gently over your waist and he has to fight every urge he has not to grip you tight and grind against you until he can finally breathe again.Â
Unfortunately for his Whitaker's self-control, you bump your nose against his, and look deeply into his eyes and shift your hips ever so slightly as you say, voice breathless,Â
"I had a really good time tonight Dennis." The strangled noise that escapes him as his body convulses beneath you is all the proof you need that he had a good night too, the mortified look that washes over his face as he comes down from his high making you bite back a giggle. Before you can say anything, he wide pleading eyes gaze up at you in apology,Â
"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to - you're such so - does this mean you don't want to go out with me again?" He can feel his own sticky release dripping around his thighs, and he's so worried you'll be able to feel it through the fabric underneath you, cursing himself for not being able to pull himself together around you.Â
"Are you kidding? I want to see you do that again." You reassure with a devilish glint in your eye that should terrify Whitaker, but fills him with unparalleled excitement instead.Â
If you've been enjoying my The Pitt content and love a touch of romance, please consider buying my romantic/thriller novel as the best way to support me and my writing: It's only $3 for the e-book or $9 for the paperback! Or if you want to support me another way - why not buy me a coffee or commission something special?
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I want a creepy pathetic loser pervert virgin man right NOW âŒïžâŒïžâŒïž I want a man who cums in his pants when your shirt rides up!! I want a man who gets hard when you smile at him!! I want a man who steals your used boxers because he needs to sniff them when he jerks off!! I want a man who pulls up an innocent pic of you on his phone and cums all over the screen imagining it's the real you!! I want a man who dreams of sneaking into your room at night to stuff you full of cum while you sleep!!
I want a creepy pathetic loser pervert virgin man right NOW âŒïžâŒïžâŒïž I want a man who cums in his pants when your shirt rides up!! I want a man who gets hard when you smile at him!! I want a man who steals your used boxers because he needs to sniff them when he jerks off!! I want a man who pulls up an innocent pic of you on his phone and cums all over the screen imagining it's the real you!! I want a man who dreams of sneaking into your room at night to stuff you full of cum while you sleep!!
Pairing: Garrett Graham x fem!reader
WC: ~13k
A/N: This is mostly just them texting. This is long af
Part One: 2 AM and a Fork
Y/n was three chapters deep into her psychology textbook, fighting the losing battle against sleep, when her phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Unknown Number - 2:47 AMÂ
Dude. Where are you? Dean just tried to microwave a fork.
She blinked at the screen, reading it twice to make sure exhaustion wasn't making her hallucinate. A fork. Someone's friend Dean had tried to microwave a fork, and this person was texting... whoever they thought she was.
The reasonable thing would be to ignore it. Or send a quick "wrong number" and go back to studying. But Y/n had been staring at the same paragraph about cognitive behavioral therapy for twenty minutes, and honestly, she needed to know more about this fork situation.
Y/n - 2:48 AMÂ
I think you have the wrong number, but now I need the rest of this story.
She watched the three dots appear almost immediately.
Unknown Number - 2:49 AMÂ
Shit, sorry.
Unknown Number - 2:49 AMÂ Â
My roommate Dean decided he wanted to "see what would happen" if he microwaved a metal fork. At 2 in the morning. While drunk.
Unknown Number - 2:50 AMÂ Â
There were sparks. So many sparks. He screamed like a little girl. The microwave is now deceased. RIP, you served us well.
Y/n found herself grinning at her phone, her textbook completely forgotten.
Y/n - 2:51 AMÂ
I have so many questions. First: is Dean okay? Second: is the fork okay? Third: how drunk are we talking?
Unknown Number - 2:52 AMÂ Â
Dean is fine, just traumatized. The fork is... well, it's seen better days. And we're talking "thought it would be a good idea to microwave a fork" drunk, so pretty damn drunk.
Unknown Number - 2:52 AM
I'm Garrett, by the way. Since we're apparently texting now.
Y/n - 2:53 AMÂ Â
Y/n. And I feel like I should thank Dean for this entertainment. I was studying and slowly dying of boredom.
Garrett - 2:54 AM
Studying at 3 AM? What are you, some kind of masochist?
Y/n - 2:54 AM
Psychology major. So yes, actually.
Garrett - 2:55 AMÂ Â
That explains so much. You're probably analyzing why Dean thought the fork was a good idea.
Y/n - 2:56 AMÂ
Alcohol impairs the prefrontal cortex, which is responsible for decision-making and impulse control. Dean's fork incident is basically a textbook example of why drunk people do stupid things.
Garrett - 2:57 AM
I'm keeping you. Anyone who can explain drunk stupidity with science is worth knowing.
Y/n - 2:58 AM
Bold of you to assume I want to be kept by someone whose friends microwave silverware.
Garrett - 2:59 AMÂ Â
Fair point. But in my defense, I tried to STOP him. I was outvoted.
Y/n - 3:00 AMÂ
How many people voted in favor of microwaving the fork?
Garrett - 3:01 AMÂ
Just Dean. But he was very enthusiastic about it.
Y/n laughed out loud, then immediately covered her mouth, remembering her roommate was asleep in the next room.
Y/n - 3:02 AMÂ
So you were outvoted 1-1? That's not how voting works.
Garrett - 3:03 AM
Listen, it was 2 AM and he was already opening the microwave. I made an executive decision to text for backup instead of physically wrestling a drunk guy away from kitchen appliances.
Y/n - 3:04 AMÂ
Solid strategy. How's that working out for you?
Garrett - 3:05 AM
Well, I texted the wrong number, so not great. But I'm talking to you now, so maybe it worked out after all.
Y/n felt her cheeks warm. Was this guy actually flirting with her? At 3 AM? Over a destroyed microwave?
Y/n - 3:06 AMÂ
Smooth. Do you use the fork incident as a pickup line often?
Garrett - 3:07 AMÂ
You're actually the first. How am I doing?
Y/n - 3:08 AM
Well, I'm still texting you instead of studying, so... surprisingly well.
Garrett - 3:09 AMÂ
I'll take it. So what are you studying? Besides the psychology of drunk idiots.
Y/n - 3:10 AM
Cognitive behavioral therapy. Riveting stuff at 3 AM.
Garrett - 3:11 AMÂ
I'm sure it's fascinating. Teach me something.
Y/n - 3:12 AM
You want me to teach you about CBT right now?
Garrett - 3:13 AMÂ Â
I want you to keep texting me. The subject matter is negotiable.
Y/n bit her lip, staring at her phone. This was insane. She was texting a complete stranger at three in the morning, and she was enjoying it. More than enjoying it; she was actively not wanting it to stop.
Y/n - 3:14 AMÂ
Okay, here's something: CBT is based on the idea that our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors are all connected. Change one, and you can change the others.
Garrett - 3:15 AM
So if I think positive thoughts, I'll feel better?
Y/n - 3:16 AMÂ
Oversimplified, but basically. It's more about identifying negative thought patterns and challenging them.
Garrett - 3:17 AMÂ
What if my negative thought pattern is "I should be asleep right now" but I keep texting this girl instead?
Y/n - 3:18 AMÂ Â
Then you challenge it. Ask yourself: is texting this girl actually a problem? Or is it just what you think you SHOULD be doing vs. what you WANT to be doing?
Garrett - 3:19 AMÂ
Damn. You're good at this.
Y/n - 3:20 AM
I'm a psych major and itâs 3 AM. This is literally my entire personality right now.
Garrett - 3:21 AM
What's your personality when it's NOT 3 AM?
Y/n - 3:22 AM
Guess you'll have to keep texting me to find out.
Garrett - 3:23 AMÂ
Challenge accepted.
They texted for another hour. Garrett told her about his hockey practice schedule (he played hockey, apparently, though he was vague about details). Y/n told him about her roommate's obsession with true crime podcasts. They debated the best late-night snacks (Garrett was team pizza, Y/n argued for breakfast food at any hour).
By the time Y/n finally said goodnight at 4:30 AM, her psychology textbook was closed, her exam the next day was a problem for future-her, and she was smiling at her phone like an idiot.
She saved his number as "Fork Guy."
***
Part Two: The First Three Weeks
Fork Guy - 11:23 AMÂ
Update: Dean has been banned from the kitchen. We're getting a new microwave today. The fork has been given a proper burial.
Y/n was in line at the campus coffee shop when the text came through. She'd been thinking about texting him all morning but didn't want to seem too eager. The fact that he'd texted first made her ridiculously happy.
Y/n - 11:25 AMÂ
A burial? You didn't just throw it away?
Fork Guy - 11:26 AMÂ
It gave its life in service of our entertainment. The least we could do was show some respect.
Y/n - 11:27 AMÂ
You're actually insane.
Fork Guy - 11:28 AMÂ
You're still texting me, so what does that say about you?
Y/n - 11:29 AMÂ
That I have questionable taste in texting buddies.
Fork Guy - 11:30 AM
Texting buddies? Is that what we are?
Y/n hesitated, her thumb hovering over the keyboard. What were they? They'd been texting for less than twelve hours, but it already felt like more than just random messages to a wrong number.
Y/n - 11:32 AM
I don't know. What do you want to be?
Fork Guy - 11:33 AM
Honestly? I want to keep talking to you. No pressure, no expectations. Just... this.
Y/n - 11:34 AMÂ
Just this?
Fork Guy - 11:35 AM
Just this. Whatever this is.
Y/n - 11:36 AM
Okay. I can do this.
Fork Guy - 11:37 AM
Yeah?
Y/n - 11:38 AMÂ
Yeah.
And just like that, they fell into a rhythm.
Garrett texted her good morning most days, usually with some ridiculous story about his roommates or hockey practice. Y/n sent him photos of terrible coffee shop signs and complained about her professors. They texted throughout the day â quick messages between classes, longer conversations late at night when neither of them could sleep.
Day 3:
Fork Guy - 2:15 PMÂ
Question: if you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?
Y/n - 2:17 PM
That's impossible. I'd die of malnutrition.
Fork Guy - 2:18 PMÂ
Okay, fine. If you could only eat one food without getting sick of it, what would it be?
Y/n - 2:20 PMÂ
Sushi. Definitely sushi. You?
Fork Guy - 2:21 PMÂ Â
Pizza. I'm a simple man.
Y/n - 2:22 PMÂ Â
You're a boring man.
Fork Guy - 2:23 PMÂ
Says the girl who's probably drinking her third coffee of the day.
Y/n - 2:24 PMÂ
It's my fourth, actually. And coffee is a personality trait, not a beverage.
Fork Guy - 2:25 PM
That explains so much about you.
Day 7:
Y/n - 10:47 PMÂ
Random thought: do you think penguins have knees?
Fork Guy - 10:48 PMÂ
It's 11 PM. Why are you thinking about penguin knees?
Y/n - 10:49 PMÂ
I'm procrastinating on an essay. Answer the question.
Fork Guy - 10:51 PMÂ Â
I just googled it. They do have knees, but they're hidden under their feathers. Their legs are actually much longer than they look.
Y/n - 10:52 PM
You googled it? You didn't just make something up?
Fork Guy - 10:53 PMÂ
I'm not going to lie to you about penguin anatomy. I have standards.
Y/n - 10:54 PMÂ Â
Your standards involve penguin facts?
Fork Guy - 10:55 PM
My standards involve not bullshitting you, even about penguins.
Y/n stared at that message for a long moment, something warm unfurling in her chest.
Y/n - 10:57 PM
That's... actually really sweet.
Fork Guy - 10:58 PMÂ Â
Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain.
Y/n - 10:59 PM
What reputation? Fork Guy?
Fork Guy - 11:00 PM
You saved my number as Fork Guy, didn't you?
Y/n - 11:01 PMÂ Â
MaybeâŠ
Fork Guy - 11:02 PMÂ
I saved you as "Wrong Number Girl."
Y/n - 11:03 PMÂ Â
Creative.
Fork Guy - 11:04 PMÂ
I'm thinking of changing it to "Penguin Knee Girl."
Y/n - 11:05 PMÂ
Don't you dare.
Day 12:
Fork Guy - 7:30 AMÂ
Morning. I have a game tonight. Wish me luck?
Y/n - 7:45 AMÂ
You play hockey, right? What position?
Fork Guy - 7:47 AM
Forward. Center, specifically.
Y/n - 7:48 AMÂ Â
I have no idea what that means, but good luck!
Fork Guy - 7:50 AMÂ
It means I'm in the middle of everything. Lots of pressure, lots of action.
Y/n - 7:52 AMÂ
Sounds stressful.
Fork Guy - 7:53 AMÂ
It is. But I love it. There's nothing like being on the ice, you know? Everything else just... disappears.
Y/n - 7:55 AM
I don't know, actually. I've never been ice skating.
Fork Guy - 7:56 AMÂ Â
WHAT. That's a crime. We're fixing this.
Y/n - 7:57 AMÂ
We are?
Fork Guy - 7:58 AMÂ
Okay, maybe not WE. But someone needs to take you ice skating. It's a life experience.
Y/n - 8:00 AM
I'll add it to my list. Right after "stop texting strangers at 3 AM."
Fork Guy - 8:01 AM
Hey, that worked out pretty well for you.
Y/n - 8:02 AMÂ
Jury's still out on that one, Fork Guy.
Fork Guy - 8:03 AMÂ Â
Ouch. Right in the ego.
Y/n - 8:05 AMÂ
You'll survive. Now go win your game.
Fork Guy - 8:06 AMÂ Â
Yes ma'am.
That night, Y/n found herself wondering how his game went. She almost texted to ask, but stopped herself. That felt too... couple-y. Too invested. They were just texting. Just friends. Just this.
Her phone buzzed at 11:47 PM.
Fork Guy - 11:47 PMÂ
We won. 4-2. I got two assists.
Y/n - 11:48 PMÂ
I'm going to pretend I know what that means and say congratulations!
Fork Guy - 11:49 PMÂ
It means I helped score two goals. It's good.
Y/n - 11:50 PMÂ
Then I'm genuinely saying congratulations. You must be exhausted.
Fork Guy - 11:52 PMÂ Â
I am. But I wanted to tell you. Is that weird?
Y/n's heart did a little flip.
Y/n - 11:53 PMÂ Â
No. It's not weird.
Fork Guy - 11:54 PMÂ
Good. Because I've been thinking about texting you all night.
Y/n - 11:56 PM
Even during the game?
Fork Guy - 11:57 PM
Especially during the game. You're distracting, Wrong Number Girl.
Y/n - 11:58 PMÂ
Sorry?
Fork Guy - 11:59 PM
Don't be. It's a good distraction.
Day 18:
They'd started playing a game: two truths and a lie. It started innocently enough, but quickly became their way of learning about each other without asking direct questions.
Y/n - 3:34 PMÂ
Okay, my turn: 1) I can speak three languages 2) I've never broken a bone 3) I'm afraid of birds.
Fork Guy - 3:36 PMÂ Â
Afraid of birds? That's oddly specific.
Y/n - 3:37 PM
That's not a guess.
Fork Guy - 3:39 PMÂ
Fine. I think the lie is the languages. You seem like someone who would break a bone doing something stupid.
Y/n - 3:40 PMÂ
Rude. And wrong. I really can speak three languages. English, Spanish, and French.
Fork Guy - 3:41 PM
So you've broken a bone?
Y/n - 3:42 PMÂ Â
Fractured my wrist in middle school. Fell off a bike.
Fork Guy - 3:43 PMÂ
Called it. Stupid accident.
Y/n - 3:44 PM
It wasn't stupid! There was a squirrel!
Fork Guy - 3:45 PMÂ
You crashed your bike because of a squirrel?
Y/n - 3:46 PM
It ran right in front of me! I swerved to avoid it!
Fork Guy - 3:47 PMÂ
This is the best thing I've heard all day.
Y/n - 3:48 PMÂ
I hate you. Your turn.
Fork Guy - 3:50 PM
Okay: 1) I've been playing hockey since I was five 2) I have two sisters 3) I can't cook to save my life.
Y/n - 3:52 PMÂ
The cooking one is the lie. You live with Dean. You HAVE to know how to cook or you'd starve.
Fork Guy - 3:53 PMÂ Â
Wrong. I really can't cook. Dean actually does most of the cooking, believe it or not.
Y/n - 3:54 PM
The guy who microwaved a fork does the cooking?
Fork Guy - 3:55 PM
He's actually pretty good when he's sober. It's a whole thing.
Y/n - 3:56 PMÂ
So you don't have two sisters?
Fork Guy - 3:57 PMÂ Â
I have one sister. She's a pain in my ass but I love her.
Y/n - 3:58 PMÂ
Older or younger?
Fork Guy - 3:59 PMÂ
Younger. She's in high school. Thinks she knows everything.
Y/n - 4:00 PMÂ
Sounds like someone else I know.
Fork Guy - 4:01 PMÂ
Are you calling me a know-it-all?
Y/n - 4:02 PMÂ
If the hockey skate fits...
Day 21:
Fork Guy - 1:23 AMÂ
You awake?
Y/n - 1:25 AMÂ Â
Unfortunately. Can't sleep. You?
Fork Guy - 1:26 AMÂ
Same. Too much on my mind.
Y/n - 1:27 AMÂ Â
Want to talk about it?
Fork Guy - 1:29 AM
Not really. Want to distract me instead?
Y/n - 1:30 AMÂ
How?
Fork Guy - 1:31 AM
Tell me something. Anything. Something you've never told anyone else.
Y/n stared at her phone, her heart beating faster. This felt like a shift, like they were crossing some invisible line from casual texting into something deeper.
Y/n - 1:34 AMÂ
Okay. Sometimes I feel like I'm pretending to be someone I'm not. Like I'm playing a role and everyone believes it except me.
Fork Guy - 1:35 AMÂ
What role?
Y/n - 1:37 AMÂ Â
The girl who has it all together. The one who knows what she wants, who's confident and sure of herself. But most of the time I'm just... winging it. Hoping no one notices I have no idea what I'm doing.
Fork Guy - 1:39 AM
I think everyone feels like that sometimes.
Y/n - 1:40 AM
Do you?
Fork Guy - 1:42 AMÂ
All the time. People see me on the ice and think I'm this confident guy who has everything figured out. But half the time I'm terrified I'm going to fuck it all up.
Y/n - 1:43 AMÂ Â
What are you afraid of fucking up?
Fork Guy - 1:45 AMÂ
Everything. Hockey. School. Relationships. Life in general. I'm good at pretending I'm not scared, but that's all it is. Pretending.
Y/n - 1:47 AMÂ Â
I don't think you're pretending. I think you're just... human.
Fork Guy - 1:48 AMÂ Â
Is that your professional psych major opinion?
Y/n - 1:49 AMÂ
It's my personal opinion. The psych major in me would say you're experiencing normal anxiety about performance and expectations. The regular me just thinks you're being too hard on yourself.
Fork Guy - 1:51 AMÂ
The regular you is pretty smart.
Y/n - 1:52 AMÂ
She has her moments.
Fork Guy - 1:54 AMÂ Â
Can I tell you something?
Y/n - 1:55 AMÂ Â
Of course.
Fork Guy - 1:57 AM
Texting you has become my favorite part of the day. I look forward to it. To hearing from you. To making you laugh. To just... this.
Y/n felt her breath catch. She read the message three times, her heart pounding.
Y/n - 1:59 AMÂ
Me too.
Fork Guy - 2:00 AMÂ
Yeah?
Y/n - 2:01 AMÂ
Yeah. You're my favorite distraction.
Fork Guy - 2:02 AMÂ
I'll take it.
Y/n - 2:03 AMÂ
You should. It's a big compliment.
Fork Guy - 2:04 AM
I know. That's why I'm smiling like an idiot at my phone right now.
Y/n - 2:05 AMÂ Â
Me too.
Fork Guy - 2:06 AMÂ Â
We're pathetic.
Y/n - 2:07 AMÂ
Completely.
Fork Guy - 2:08 AMÂ
I don't care.
Y/n - 2:09 AMÂ
Me neither.
***
Part Three: Weeks Four Through Eight
By week four, Y/n had to admit she was in trouble. She thought about Garrett constantly. She checked her phone obsessively. She found herself smiling at random times throughout the day, remembering something funny he'd said.
Her roommate, Sophie, noticed.
"Okay, who is he?" Sophie asked one night, watching Y/n grin at her phone for the fifteenth time in an hour.
"Who's who?" Y/n asked, not looking up.
"The guy you're texting. You've been glued to your phone for weeks."
"I'm not â" Y/n started, then stopped. "It's complicated."
"Complicated how?"
"I don't actually know him. We've never met."
Sophie raised an eyebrow. "Online dating?"
"No. Wrong number. He texted me by accident and we just... kept talking."
"For weeks?"
"For weeks," Y/n confirmed.
"And you don't know what he looks like?"
"Nope."
"Or his last name?"
"Nope."
"Y/n â"
"I know how it sounds," Y/n interrupted. "But it's not like that. We're just... talking. Getting to know each other. It's nice."
"It's also potentially dangerous."
"He's not dangerous. He's sweet and funny and â"
"And you're falling for him," Sophie finished.
Y/n opened her mouth to deny it, then closed it again. Was she falling for him? Could you fall for someone you'd never met?
"I don't know," she said finally. "Maybe."
Her phone buzzed.
Fork Guy - 9:47 PMÂ Â
Question: if you could have dinner with anyone, living or dead, who would it be?
Y/n - 9:48 PMÂ
That's a big question for a Tuesday night.
Fork Guy - 9:49 PMÂ
I'm a big question kind of guy.
Y/n - 9:51 PMÂ
Okay. My grandmother. She died when I was twelve. I'd want to have dinner with her now, as an adult, and actually talk to her. Really talk to her.
Fork Guy - 9:53 PM
That's beautiful. What would you want to talk about?
Y/n - 9:55 PM
Everything. My life. Her life, her choices, her regrets. What she was like before she was just "grandma." I feel like we never really know our family members as actual people, you know? Just as their roles.
Fork Guy - 9:57 PMÂ
I get that. I'd want to have dinner with my dad.
Y/n - 9:58 PMÂ Â
Is he...?
Fork Guy - 9:59 PMÂ
No, he's alive. We just don't talk much. Haven't in years.
Y/n - 10:00 PM
I'm sorry.
Fork Guy - 10:02 PM
It is what it is. He got too competitive with hockey. Thought I should focus on being âas goodâ as he was. We had a falling out when I got my scholarship.
Y/n - 10:03 PMÂ
He didn't support your scholarship?
Fork Guy - 10:05 PMÂ Â
He thought it was a waste of time. That I'd never be as good as him. We haven't really spoken since.
Y/n - 10:06 PMÂ
That's his loss. You're amazing.
Fork Guy - 10:07 PM
You don't even know me.
Y/n - 10:08 PMÂ Â
I know enough. I know you're dedicated and passionate and you care about people. I know you text me good morning even when you have early practice. I know you googled penguin knees just to give me an honest answer. That's not nothing.
Fork Guy - 10:10 PMÂ Â
You're going to make me emotional over penguin knees.
Y/n - 10:11 PM
I'm just saying... your dad is wrong. You're not wasting anything.
Fork Guy - 10:13 PMÂ Â
Thank you. Really.
Y/n - 10:14 PMÂ
Anytime.
Fork Guy - 10:16 PMÂ Â
Can I ask you something personal?
Y/n - 10:17 PMÂ Â
You just told me about your dad. I think we're past the personal question threshold.
Fork Guy - 10:18 PMÂ Â
Fair. Have you ever been in love?
Y/n stared at the question, her heart racing. Where was this coming from?
Y/n - 10:20 PMÂ Â
I thought I was. Once. In high school. But looking back, I don't think it was real love. It was just... intense feelings. Infatuation, maybe.
Fork Guy - 10:21 PMÂ
What's the difference?
Y/n - 10:23 PMÂ
Love is steady. It's choosing someone every day, even when it's hard. Infatuation is just the high of new feelings. It burns hot and fast and then it's gone.
Fork Guy - 10:24 PMÂ Â
That's very philosophical.
Y/n - 10:25 PM
I'm a psych major. It's literally my job to overthink feelings.
Fork Guy - 10:26 PMÂ
So you've never been in love for real?
Y/n - 10:27 PMÂ
No. You?
Fork Guy - 10:29 PMÂ Â
I don't know. I've had relationships. Some lasted longer than others. But I don't think any of them were... it. You know?
Y/n - 10:30 PM
It?
Fork Guy - 10:32 PM
The real thing. The kind of love that makes you want to be better. That makes you feel like you've found your person.
Y/n - 10:33 PMÂ
You believe in "your person"?
Fork Guy - 10:34 PMÂ Â
I want to. Don't you?
Y/n - 10:36 PMÂ
Yeah. I do.
Fork Guy - 10:37 PMÂ
Good. Because I think when you find it, it's worth everything.
Week Five:
Y/n - 2:15 PM
I have a confession.
Fork Guy - 2:16 PMÂ
This sounds serious.
Y/n - 2:17 PMÂ
I googled "hockey positions" so I could understand what you're talking about when you mention games.
Fork Guy - 2:18 PMÂ
You did?
Y/n - 2:19 PMÂ
I did. I now know that centers are responsible for face-offs and are usually the playmakers of the team.
Fork Guy - 2:20 PM
I'm impressed. And a little touched.
Y/n - 2:21 PMÂ Â
Don't let it go to your head.
Fork Guy - 2:22 PMÂ
Too late. My ego is already inflated.
Y/n - 2:23 PMÂ
I also learned that hockey players are missing a lot of teeth.
Fork Guy - 2:24 PM
I have all my teeth, thank you very much.
Y/n - 2:25 PMÂ Â
For now.
Fork Guy - 2:26 PM
You're really selling the sport here.
Y/n - 2:27 PMÂ Â
I'm just saying, maybe wear a better mouth guard.
Fork Guy - 2:28 PMÂ
Are you worried about my teeth?
Y/n - 2:29 PM
I'm worried about your face in general. It's probably a nice face. Would be a shame to mess it up.
Fork Guy - 2:30 PM
"Probably a nice face"? That's the best you can do?
Y/n - 2:31 PM
I've never seen it. I'm working with limited information.
Fork Guy - 2:32 PM
I could send you a picture.
Y/n's heart stopped. They'd been texting for over a month and neither of them had suggested exchanging photos. It felt like an unspoken rule; keep the mystery, keep the distance.
Y/n - 2:34 PMÂ
Do you want to?
Fork Guy - 2:36 PM
I don't know. Do you?
Y/n - 2:38 PMÂ Â
I don't know either.
Fork Guy - 2:39 PM
We're really good at making decisions.
Y/n - 2:40 PM
The best.
Fork Guy - 2:42 PM
What if we like this better? The not knowing?
Y/n - 2:43 PMÂ Â
What if we do?
Fork Guy - 2:44 PMÂ
Then maybe we keep it this way. For now.
Y/n - 2:45 PMÂ
For now.
Week Six:
Fork Guy - 11:34 PMÂ Â
Worst date you've ever been on. Go.
Y/n - 11:36 PM
Oh god. Okay. Sophomore year. Guy took me to a movie and fell asleep ten minutes in. Snored through the entire thing.
Fork Guy - 11:37 PMÂ
That's not that bad.
Y/n - 11:38 PMÂ Â
I'm not finished. When the movie ended, he woke up and pretended he'd been awake the whole time. Tried to discuss the plot. Got everything wrong. And still tries to kiss me afterwards.
Fork Guy - 11:39 PMÂ Â
Okay, that's pretty bad.
Y/n - 11:40 PMÂ Â
Your turn.
Fork Guy - 11:42 PMÂ
Junior year of high school. The girl spent the entire date talking about her ex-boyfriend. And I mean the ENTIRE date. I knew his whole life story by the end of the night.
Y/n - 11:43 PMÂ Â
Did you go out again?
Fork Guy - 11:44 PMÂ
She asked. I politely declined.
Y/n - 11:45 PMÂ
Politely?
Fork Guy - 11:46 PMÂ Â
I told her I thought she needed more time to get over her ex.
Y/n - 11:47 PMÂ
That's actually really mature for a high school junior.
Fork Guy - 11:48 PMÂ Â
I have my moments.
Y/n - 11:49 PMÂ Â
Clearly.
Fork Guy - 11:51 PMÂ
Can I ask you something?
Y/n - 11:52 PMÂ Â
Always.
Fork Guy - 11:54 PMÂ
Why haven't you asked me what I look like? Or for my last name? Or any identifying information?
Y/n - 11:56 PMÂ
I could ask you the same thing.
Fork Guy - 11:57 PMÂ Â
I asked first.
Y/n - 11:59 PMÂ
Honestly? I kind of like this. I like that you don't know what I look like or where I'm from or what my GPA is. You just know... me. The real me. And I know the real you.
Fork Guy - 12:00 AMÂ
You think this is the real me?
Y/n - 12:01 AMÂ Â
Isn't it?
Fork Guy - 12:03 AMÂ Â
Yeah. It is. More real than I am with most people.
Y/n - 12:04 AMÂ Â
Then why would I want to ruin that by adding all the other stuff?
Fork Guy - 12:05 AMÂ
You wouldn't be ruining it.
Y/n - 12:06 AMÂ Â
Wouldn't I? Right now, you like me for me. Not for what I look like or where I go to school or who my friends are. Just... me.
Fork Guy - 12:08 AMÂ Â
I'd still like you if I knew all that stuff.
Y/n - 12:09 AMÂ
Maybe. But this way, we don't have to find out.
Fork Guy - 12:11 AMÂ
You're scared.
Y/n - 12:12 AMÂ
Yeah. Are you?
Fork Guy - 12:14 AMÂ Â
Terrified.
Y/n - 12:15 AMÂ Â
Of what?
Fork Guy - 12:17 AM
That you'll meet me and be disappointed. That the real me won't live up to the version you have in your head.
Y/n - 12:18 AM
I don't have a version of you in my head. I just have you. The person who texts me good morning and asks me about penguin knees and tells me about his hockey games. That's enough.
Fork Guy - 12:20 AMÂ Â
Is it though?
Y/n - 12:21 AMÂ
For now? Yes.
Fork Guy - 12:22 AMÂ
And later?
Y/n - 12:23 AMÂ
I don't know. Can we just... be in the now?
Fork Guy - 12:24 AMÂ
Yeah. We can do that.
Week Seven:
Y/n was having lunch with her friends Hannah and Allie when her phone buzzed. She tried to ignore it, but Hannah noticed her smile.
"Is that him again?" Hannah asked.
"Who?" Allie perked up.
"Y/n's mystery man," Hannah explained. "She's been texting some guy for like two months."
"It hasn't been two months," Y/n protested.
"It's been seven weeks," Hannah said. "That's almost two months."
"You've been texting someone for seven weeks and haven't met him?" Allie asked, incredulous.
"It's complicated."
"It's insane," Hannah corrected. "What if he's a serial killer?"
"He's not a serial killer."
"How do you know?"
"Because serial killers don't text you about their hockey games and their roommate's cooking disasters."
"He plays hockey?" Allie asked.
"Yeah. He's a center. Whatever that means."
Hannah and Allie exchanged a look.
"What?" Y/n asked.
"Nothing," Hannah said quickly. "It's just... we know a lot of hockey players."
"It's a big school," Y/n said. "I'm sure there are lots of centers."
"Right," Allie agreed, but she was still giving Hannah a weird look.
Y/n's phone buzzed again.
Fork Guy - 1:45 PMÂ Â
I'm having a crisis.
Y/n - 1:46 PMÂ
What kind of crisis?
Fork Guy - 1:47 PMÂ Â
I want to meet you.
Y/n's heart stopped. She stared at the message, her friends' conversation fading into background noise.
Y/n - 1:49 PMÂ Â
Oh.
Fork Guy - 1:50 PM
I know we said we'd keep this just texting. But I can't stop thinking about you. About what it would be like to actually talk to you. To see you.
Y/n - 1:52 PM
Garrett...
Fork Guy - 1:53 PM
You don't have to say yes. I just needed to tell you. I needed you to know that this isn't just texting for me anymore. It's more than that.
Y/n - 1:55 PMÂ
It's more than that for me too.
Fork Guy - 1:56 PMÂ Â
Yeah?
Y/n - 1:57 PMÂ Â
Yeah. But I'm scared.
Fork Guy - 1:58 PMÂ Â
Me too.
Y/n - 1:59 PMÂ Â
What if we meet and it's not the same?
Fork Guy - 2:00 PMÂ Â
What if we meet and it's better?
Y/n - 2:02 PMÂ
I don't know if I'm ready for that.
Fork Guy - 2:03 PM
That's okay. I can wait.
Y/n - 2:04 PMÂ
Really?
Fork Guy - 2:05 PMÂ
Really. You're worth waiting for.
Week Eight:
Fork Guy - 3:27 AMÂ
You awake?
Y/n - 3:29 AMÂ
I am now. You okay?
Fork Guy - 3:30 AMÂ Â
Can't sleep. Keep thinking.
Y/n - 3:31 AMÂ
About what?
Fork Guy - 3:33 AMÂ
You. Us. This thing we're doing.
Y/n - 3:34 AM
What about it?
Fork Guy - 3:36 AMÂ Â
I'm falling for you. And I know that's crazy. I know we've never met. But I can't help it.
Y/n sat up in bed, her heart pounding so hard she could hear it.
Y/n - 3:38 AMÂ
That's not crazy.
Fork Guy - 3:39 AMÂ Â
It's not?
Y/n - 3:41 AM
No. Because I'm falling for you too.
Fork Guy - 3:42 AMÂ Â
You are?
Y/n - 3:43 AMÂ Â
I am. And it terrifies me.
Fork Guy - 3:45 AMÂ
Why?
Y/n - 3:47 AM
Because what if we meet and you don't like what you see? What if I'm not what you expected?
Fork Guy - 3:48 AM
What if you're exactly what I expected? What if you're even better?
Y/n - 3:50 AMÂ Â
You can't know that.
Fork Guy - 3:51 AMÂ Â
I know you. That's what matters.
Y/n - 3:53 AM
Is it enough though? Looks matter. Chemistry matters. What if we don't have that in person?
Fork Guy - 3:55 AMÂ
Then we'll deal with it. But I don't think that's going to happen.
Y/n - 3:56 AMÂ Â
How can you be so sure?
Fork Guy - 3:58 AM
Because I've never felt this way about anyone. Not even close. And I don't think that's going to change just because I see your face.
Y/n - 4:00 AM
You're very confident for someone who's never seen me.
Fork Guy - 4:01 AMÂ
I don't need to see you to know you're beautiful.
Y/n - 4:02 AMÂ Â
That's a line.
Fork Guy - 4:03 AMÂ
It's the truth. You're beautiful because of who you are. Because you're kind and funny and smart and you care about people. Because you text me at 4 AM even though you have class in the morning. Because you make me want to be better.
Y/n - 4:05 AMÂ
You're going to make me cry.
Fork Guy - 4:06 AMÂ Â
Good tears or bad tears?
Y/n - 4:07 AMÂ
Good tears. Definitely good tears.
Fork Guy - 4:08 AMÂ
Then my work here is done.
Y/n - 4:10 AM
Garrett?
Fork Guy - 4:11 AMÂ Â
Yeah?
Y/n - 4:12 AMÂ Â
I want to meet you. I'm still scared, but I want to.
Fork Guy - 4:13 AMÂ
Yeah?
Y/n - 4:14 AMÂ Â
Yeah.
Fork Guy - 4:15 AMÂ
When?
Y/n - 4:17 AMÂ Â
I don't know. Soon?
Fork Guy - 4:18 AMÂ
I have a game next Saturday. You could come. If you want.
Y/n - 4:20 AMÂ Â
To your hockey game?
Fork Guy - 4:21 AMÂ Â
Yeah. You could watch me play. And then after, we could meet. Officially.
Y/n - 4:23 AMÂ Â
That's a lot of pressure. What if you play badly because you're nervous?
Fork Guy - 4:24 AMÂ Â
I won't play badly. I'll play the best game of my life because you'll be there.
Y/n - 4:25 AMÂ Â
More confidence.
Fork Guy - 4:26 AMÂ Â
More truth.
Y/n - 4:28 AMÂ
Okay.
Fork Guy - 4:29 AMÂ
Okay?
Y/n - 4:30 AMÂ Â
Okay. I'll come to your game.
Fork Guy - 4:31 AMÂ Â
Really?
Y/n - 4:32 AMÂ
Really. But I'm bringing friends. For safety.
Fork Guy - 4:33 AMÂ Â
Smart. I'd expect nothing less.
Y/n - 4:35 AMÂ
And if this goes badly, I'm blaming you.
Fork Guy - 4:36 AMÂ
Fair. But it's not going to go badly.
Y/n - 4:37 AMÂ
How do you know?
Fork Guy - 4:38 AMÂ Â
Because it's us. We're going to be fine.
Y/n - 4:40 AM
I hope you're right.
Fork Guy - 4:41 AMÂ Â
I am. Trust me.
Y/n - 4:42 AMÂ Â
I do. That's the scary part.
***
Part Four: Weeks Nine Through Twelve
The week leading up to the game was torture. Y/n checked her phone constantly, second-guessing her decision a hundred times a day. Garrett texted her like normal, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation in every message.
Monday:
Fork Guy - 10:15 AMÂ Â
Morning. How'd you sleep?
Y/n - 10:17 AMÂ Â
Terribly. You?
Fork Guy - 10:18 AMÂ Â
Same. Kept thinking about Saturday.
Y/n - 10:19 AMÂ
We don't have to do this. We could just keep texting.
Fork Guy - 10:20 AMÂ
Do you want to just keep texting?
Y/n - 10:22 AMÂ Â
No. But I'm freaking out.
Fork Guy - 10:23 AMÂ
Me too. But I think that's normal.
Y/n - 10:24 AMÂ
Is it?
Fork Guy - 10:25 AM
I'm about to meet the girl I've been falling for for three months. I'd be worried if I wasn't freaking out.
Y/n - 10:27 AM
Three months. Has it really been that long?
Fork Guy - 10:28 AMÂ Â
Twelve weeks on Thursday.
Y/n - 10:29 AM
You've been counting?
Fork Guy - 10:30 AMÂ Â
Of course I have.
Tuesday:
Y/n - 2:45 PMÂ Â
Question: what if I'm not what you're expecting?
Fork Guy - 2:46 PM
What if you're better?
Y/n - 2:47 PMÂ Â
I'm being serious.
Fork Guy - 2:48 PMÂ Â
So am I. Y/n, I don't have expectations. I just have hope.
Y/n - 2:50 PMÂ
Hope for what?
Fork Guy - 2:51 PMÂ
That you're as amazing in person as you are over text. That we have the same connection face-to-face. That this is the beginning of something real.
Y/n - 2:53 PM
That's a lot of hope.
Fork Guy - 2:54 PMÂ
I'm a hopeful guy.
Y/n - 2:55 PMÂ
What if I disappoint you?
Fork Guy - 2:57 PMÂ Â
You won't.
Y/n - 2:58 PMÂ
You can't know that.
Fork Guy - 2:59 PMÂ Â
I know you. That's enough.
Wednesday:
Fork Guy - 11:30 PMÂ Â
I'm nervous.
Y/n - 11:31 PMÂ
You? Mr. Confident?
Fork Guy - 11:32 PMÂ
That's all an act. Inside I'm a mess.
Y/n - 11:33 PMÂ
That's actually comforting.
Fork Guy - 11:34 PMÂ Â
That I'm a mess?
Y/n - 11:35 PM
That you're nervous too. Makes me feel less crazy.
Fork Guy - 11:37 PM
You're not crazy. This is a big deal.
Y/n - 11:38 PMÂ
It is, isn't it?
Fork Guy - 11:39 PMÂ
The biggest.
Y/n - 11:41 PMÂ Â
What if when we meet it's awkward?
Fork Guy - 11:42 PMÂ
Then we'll laugh about it and keep texting.
Y/n - 11:43 PMÂ Â
Really?
Fork Guy - 11:44 PMÂ Â
Really. I'm not losing you over one awkward meeting.
Y/n - 11:46 PMÂ Â
Promise?
Fork Guy - 11:47 PMÂ Â
Promise.
Thursday:
Y/n - 3:15 PM
I told my friends about you.
Fork Guy - 3:16 PMÂ
What did you tell them?
Y/n - 3:17 PMÂ
That I've been texting a guy for three months and I'm finally meeting him at his hockey game.
Fork Guy - 3:18 PMÂ
And what did they say?
Y/n - 3:20 PMÂ Â
That I'm either very brave or very stupid.
Fork Guy - 3:21 PMÂ
Which do you think you are?
Y/n - 3:22 PMÂ
Both, probably.
Fork Guy - 3:23 PM
I think you're brave.
Y/n - 3:25 PMÂ
I don't feel brave. I feel terrified.
Fork Guy - 3:26 PMÂ Â
That's what bravery is. Being terrified and doing it anyway.
Y/n - 3:27 PMÂ
When did you become so wise?
Fork Guy - 3:28 PMÂ Â
I've always been wise. You're just now noticing.
Y/n - 3:29 PMÂ Â
There's the confidence I know and love.
Fork Guy - 3:30 PM
Love?
Y/n - 3:32 PMÂ Â
Figure of speech.
Fork Guy - 3:33 PMÂ
Sure it is.
Friday:
Fork Guy - 1:00 AMÂ
Can't sleep.
Y/n - 1:02 AMÂ Â
Me neither.
Fork Guy - 1:03 AMÂ Â
Tomorrow's the day.
Y/n - 1:04 AMÂ Â
Today, technically. It's after midnight.
Fork Guy - 1:05 AMÂ
Don't remind me. I'm already freaking out.
Y/n - 1:07 AMÂ Â
You're going to do great. You always do.
Fork Guy - 1:08 AMÂ
I'm not worried about the game. I'm worried about after.
Y/n - 1:09 AMÂ Â
Me too.
Fork Guy - 1:11 AMÂ
What if you take one look at me and run?
Y/n - 1:12 AMÂ
What if you take one look at me and regret everything?
Fork Guy - 1:13 AMÂ Â
Not possible.
Y/n - 1:14 AMÂ Â
You don't know that.
Fork Guy - 1:16 AMÂ
I do. Because I already know the important stuff. I know you're kind and funny and smart. I know you care about people. I know you make me laugh. I know you make me want to be better. That's not going to change.
Y/n - 1:18 AM
You're really good at this.
Fork Guy - 1:19 AMÂ Â
At what?
Y/n - 1:20 AMÂ Â
Making me feel better. Making me believe this is going to be okay.
Fork Guy - 1:21 AMÂ
It is going to be okay. Better than okay.
Y/n - 1:23 AMÂ
I hope you're right.
Fork Guy - 1:24 AMÂ Â
I am. You'll see.
Y/n - 1:25 AMÂ Â
Garrett?
Fork Guy - 1:26 AMÂ Â
Yeah?
Y/n - 1:28 AMÂ
I'm really glad you texted the wrong number.
Fork Guy - 1:29 AM
Me too. Best mistake I ever made.
Y/n - 1:30 AMÂ
Get some sleep. You have a big game tomorrow.
Fork Guy - 1:31 AMÂ
You too. Sweet dreams, Wrong Number Girl.
Y/n - 1:32 AMÂ Â
Sweet dreams, Fork Guy.
A/N: this was supposed to be just one big part but tumblr won't let me post in in full, so it's gonna be like a 2 or 3 part thing đ
the glasses stay on btw ââââàšà§ââââ
genre đŁČ smut, mdni
drabbles đŁČ thinking abt riding ohyul in the studio..
warnings đŁČ unprotected sex, public (?), creampie
thinking abt riding ohyul in the studio late at night whilst heâs wearing these thick frames. face flushed and hair fucked as he chokes on another sob as you bounce up n down, gummy walls clenching so tight around his thick cock. he canât help but throw his head back as endless streams of moans leave his pretty mouth, lips biting them raw as you slow your pace down. you grind your hips down fully, ass flushed against his thighs so you can feel every inch rubbing inside. he grips onto your waist for mercy, lashes fluttering up at you w those pretty eyes as he begs you to let him cum.
âsâgood, need it. feel sâgood, hah, please go faster baby.â he croaks out shakily, eyes rolling back as he ruts his hips up fucking his wet cock back into your tight pussy. your fingers trail down to your clit, rubbing it frantically as you tighten up again. you resume your fast pace again, babbling praises of him being such a good boy but all heâs focusing on is his hips meeting halfway up as you bounce down, the wet sounds shamelessly filling the empty studio room. ohyul could sense you were close as your thighs trembled on top of him, each thrust punching a small sob out of you. he was so close too and you both cry out, ohyul filling your wet cunt w his sticky cum. he threw his head back with a long drawn out moan, glasses now askew on his fucked out face. you collapsed forward onto his chest, panting softly to catch your breath but heâs already half hard again, lazily fucking his cum back into your creamy cunt to make more of a mess.
âagain?â he whispered, looking up at you with those pleading eyes as he cutely fixes the glasses back into place and how could you say no to that â€ïž
synopsis: im so scared of loving some hoe but fuck it we ball
warnings: being loved
music: we are charlie kirk by spalexmaÂ
wc: 1.5k
The thought of being a mother always scared you.
having to be tethered to a man for life with your dreams and aspirations ripped to shreads, all because now, you're a woman.
because now you're someone with resposiblitess, rules, morals and what fucking not.
its not that you didn't like having responsibilities, you loved it infact, being the dependable one and being the one in charge, you loved being free to be the dominator, but this, this didn't feel like freedom.
these felt like chains.
tied to your wrists, simply for the crime of loving someone, and noticing how the world treated a woman in love, the word 'wife' scared you.
every time your past boyfriends' would tease you with that nickname, it wouldn't make you melt like how it should, it wouldn't make you soft and fuzzy
no.
it would terrify you, because all you thought was
''is sacrifice really the price of love for a woman?''
you wanted to be loved, ofcourse, but this price was too high, too high for anything you were willing to pay
until you met him.
he wasn't like your other boyfriends, he never pried beyond your comfort, never protected you where you didn't need it, never hovered over your every action, never questioned your decision, never asked for 'mutual partnership' when it came to your goals because they were YOUR goals, not his.
with him you never felt like you had to 'give up' anything, instead what he felt like was, an addition, and addtion to your already fulfilled life, an additon that you never thought you wanted.
someone who cared you, who'd tease you, play with you, cry with you, understand you, anchor you and finally
someone who loved you.
who loved your presence, just as you were, just as chaotic, and as calm, he loved the little crease in your eyebrow when you'd concentrate really hard on something or how you'd nibble on your lower lip while fidgeting your pen
he loved it all
no
he loved you.
You were dining at one of the most exquisite resturants in New York, it was a beautiful night and you and your lovey boyfriend had just gotten off a rough, exhausting week, finally having time for each other.
while having the main course, you both caught up with how you were doing, which was when you dropped the big question
''Honey, if we were to ever get married''
he looks up from his dish, his eyes glistening
''Hmm?'' his voice rasps
''how many kids would you want?''
''how many kids do i want?''
''mhmm''
''as many as you want love, be that number zero''
you pause, holding your glass to your lips
''or a hundred.''
you kick him under the table wide eyed he lets you a boyish laugh
''thats not even possible you idiot!'' and he just continues to laugh which makes you giggle in return too
''no seriously baby, how many?'' you say in between laughs, tilting your head
''I dont have a number in my head sweetie, never had, never will''
and at that your laughs turn into the most gentle smile
''why though?''
''why?'' he says with an almost teasing scoff
''because thats for my wife to decide.''
''Mommy?''
you shut the door behind you, before you hear a tiny sound blast your eardruâÂ
''MOMMYYY!!!!''
aaand there he goes
it was 11:45 pm, on a gloomy Friday night, you just returned from work, this had been one of the most exhausting weeks you'd had in a long long while, with paperwork on paperwork pilling up, you almost thought you'd pass out on your work desk, with your eyes hooded, your posture slumped and the half finished can of soda in your left hand. it wasn't hard to notice that you were, tired.
and yet
you see your little rocket ahh 6 year old run over to you, as if it were a bright Monday morning, almost comically tripping on the way before he hugs your waist, immobilizing you and you let out a small 'oh!'
''hey heyy kiddo slow down, you'll hurt yourself'' you coo, ruffling his hair while his just nuzzels himself into you
''He's just as stubborn as his mother it seems''
you hear a deep raspy voice echo from down the hallway and when you look up, you see your husband leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, looking oh so handsome
''learnt from the best huh?'' you tease with a wink, while your husband makes his way over to you and tugs the little man by his arm
''come on now, it's daddy's turn''
''no!!'' yelps the kid, yanking his hand away only hugging you harder, and it makes you laugh while his dad just sighs
''I'll get you that Hotwheels pack this weekend~'' whispers your husband to himself, and its almost comical how the little one perks up
''REALLY!!??''
''mhmm'' he turns his head and bends down to your son's height
''only if, you go to bed and let dad have mom for the day''
you son watches him for a solid second before looking at you, and you just tilt your head with a shrug
''its a good deal'' you say, supressing a smirk
''okiiee!!!'' and your son finally lets go his terrifyingly strong grip and runs off into his room before shuting the door, and after a few seconds, you hear the room's light click off, and you chuckle
''now then'' says your husband which makes you turn back to look at him, right before he replaces your son's deathly grip on your waist, with his own
gosh it really runs in the genes huh?
''i missed you so much love'' his voice rumbles in the small of your neck and you ruffle his hair with a smile
''missed you too honey'' and he kisses your neck in response
''how was your day?'' he asks, his kisses now moving to your cheek
''it was good'' you respond, with that slight hint of tiredness behind your voice
''yeah?''
''mhmm''
''mhmm~'' he imitates you, nuzzeling his nose into your cheek with a supressed smile
''okay, maybe a little overworked'' you admit, rolling your eyes and he simply chuckles
''there we go'' he teases, caressing the small of your back
''what about you? you came back early, i thought you'd come back from your trip tommorow''
''business got over earlier than expected, so i thought i'd book tickets as soon as possible, plus his nanny said he was being an extra nuisance this week so'' he rolls his eyes while saying that and it makes you laugh again, while he simply gazes at you with that boyish grin of his
and when you finally stop laughing
''what?''
''hmm?'' he tilts his head, genuinely confused
''stop looking at me like that, husband.'' you tease, stretching the word
''like what my lovely wife?'' and he does the same which makes the both of you grin like lovesick idiots
''like that.'' you tap his nose playfully
''like what?'' he catches your hand
''that.''
''hmm?''
''that!''
''hmm~''
and you punch his chest which only makes the both of you laugh, trying your best to not awake the little one
because maybe just maybe, being married wasn't so bad after all
and maybe just, maybe
for once love didn't feel like a burden, all because now it was
with him.
DING DONG
both your eyes dart towards the door behind you, your playful banter being rudly interrupted, before you let go of his embrace and click open the door
''DoorDash for Mr. Lastname?'' says the man at the gate with a paper bag in his hands
''ah yes this is it, thank you'' you take the bag from the his hands before turning towards your husband, giving him the ??? expression
and you shut the door
''this late? what'dya order?'' you ask, peeking into the bag
''was kinda' hungry, and the cook called in sick today so got you some some food too''
mozzarella sticks, garlic bread, marinara pasta, a cheesecake, a can of coke, a redbul, a pack of hotwheels, a bag of takiâÂ
wait
''hotwheels??'' your eyes dart up at your husband, and he simply returns a smug expression while looking at his watch
''well, it techinically is the weekend now''
dividers by: @pixopix thank you once again!!
ib: barak obama, love u twin
just drop a small ''i'd like to be tagged!'' to be added to the taglist !
wrote this while thinking of sylus but bitch fuck it, this is how every man should be so imagine your favs my lovely children, also this isn't my best fic, it was kinda rushed so apologiseeee for that babes i have many more fics coming up !
and god, GOD DO YOU HEAR ME IM FUCKING MANIFESTING THIS SHIT ISTG IF MY HUSBAND AINT LIKE THIS I DONT WANT HIM YOU BETTER GET ME HIM RAAAAHHHHHHHHHH
anyways
as i said, this fic is for literally any character you can imagine, and i unfortunatly can't add 7 million tags so reblogs, comments and likes are super-duper appreciated my loves!
and im so so SOO fuckin' proud of you kid, you're doing amazing so give yourself some more credit you idiot!!!
Men who you can easily control and convince of things if you use your nuclear bombs, also known as your boobs.
There he was, sitting in that chair and reading documents for the past 4 hours. It is midnight and he still refuses to go to bed because those documents were apparently âreally importantâ and due tomorrow. Although you recognize his hardworking spirit, sometimes he takes it too far.
Thatâs why you used your biggest weapon.
You flashed him.
âIâm sorry, my love, but I really need toââ That exact moment of him finally turning his face to stare you back was when you lifted up your shirt, making him paralyze immediately.
His face was stoned at a perfect angle where he could clearly see and appreciate your breathing boobs, his eyes getting dry from the lack of blinking.
âDonât you think youâve worked a lot today already? You need have good-quality sleep if you want to work wellâŠâ You decided to act extra mean to him and used your hand to squeeze them in their favorite way.
He kept staring at your boobs in silence for some awkward seconds.
âŠ
âŠ
âŠ
âOk.â He immediately dropped his pen and jumped out of his chair and launched his mouth towards one of your breasts, taking it like he has been starving for it for years now.
Summary: Three months into your relationship, your boyfriend Jason Todd finds your Red Hood poster. You're mortified. But Jason? Well, you've got his face in your room and your lips on his... truth be told, Jason maybe likes it a little too much that you're a super fan of his.
Pairing: Jason Todd x fem!readerÂ
Word count: 5.4k
Warnings/tags: bf!jason, you find jason and RH hot and that crosses some wires. jason takes advantage of your crush (in a hot way), competency kink, cocky jason, identity porn, minor violence, motorcycles, reader has a crush on RH but doesn't know jason is RH so it's a little complicated but NO cheating!! implied sexual content but NO explicit smut.
divider
Tonight, you're staying at Jason's place. You've only been dating three months, but it's going well enough that you're comfortable enough to stay over. Jason has hinted more than once that you can leave clothes at his place, but you insist on keeping all of your stuff at your apartment, just in case things go south. What's that rule? Six months and youâll know whether heâs the one? Three months to go, then.
Call you crazy, but you think you might already know. Jason is fantastic and youâre sure youâre in love with him. Not that you're going to tell him that any time soon. But you know enough not to put all of your stock into a three-month relationship. Who knows what secrets Jason Todd might be hiding.
"How come you never invite me to your place?" Jason asks as he pulls up in front of your building. He'd offered to drive you both to his apartment on his motorcycle, and it's officially weird if you refuse him. He might think you're hiding something. And you are. Something mortifying.
"Because you're gonna try to install your special security measures," you say as he locks his bike.
Jason thinks about it, then nods. "Yeah, that's probably true. No, but it's your place. I wouldn't do anything you wouldn't know about."
"I know," you say, going inside and holding the door for him. "But my apartment is smaller than yours.â
"That doesn't matter to me, baby."
When did he get it into his head that he needs to be in your apartment? You go up the stairs with Jason behind you, thinking about how you can excuse not inviting him inside. Except, itâs suspicious if you make him wait outside. Even for Jason, who's about as cagey as they come. He seems to trust you fine, but you have no idea what freak raised him because he's eternally wary of people and unfamiliar places. He also insists on sitting close to the door when you go out to eat. But even he's invited you to his place. Many times now. Maybe you can extend the same favor.Â
"Fine. You get a quick tour," you say against your better judgment as you get to your door, unlocking it.
"I'm honored, truly." Jason follows you inside. He clicks his tongue, pointing to the lock. "No deadbolt?"
"Jason..."
"I mean, what a beautiful lock on your door," he says sweetly, kissing your cheek. "Y'know what would make it even more beautiful?"
"You being less paranoid?"
"Seventy percent of Gotham break-ins are in residences that have only one lock. Sixty-five percent of them are onâ"
You turn around and put your arms around Jason. He automatically puts his arms around your waist and stops talking. His beauty still stuns you: his aquiline nose, his freckles, those bright teal eyes. You get shy at times, flustered and delighted at the fact that this hunk of a man likes you so much.
"I'm extremely attracted to you, despite your raccoon demeanor," you say.
"You'd be the first," Jason says, gaze terribly fond. "I'll shut up now 'bout the statistics."
"No, statistics are hot. Just not when they're about home invasions."
"Point taken. How 'bout stats on Gotham's exports?"
You throw your head back, gasping. "Oh! You fiend. No more, please. I may just ravish you here on the floor!"
Jason bends you back a little, his hand fitting in the center of your back to ease you over. He doesn't do that very often, use his strength and wield you the way he wants, but when he does, you lose your breath. Your pulse quickens as Jason nuzzles your neck.
"This okay?" he asks. You hum an airy yes.
"'M in no rush," he says in your ear. "We can linger. Haven't finished your tour. 'S your room next?"
You straighten so fast, you nearly knock Jason in the teeth. It's only because of his quick reflexes that you don't.
"You can't see my room," you rush out, looking at him with wide eyes.
Jason squints, hands dropping to your sides. "What? Why?"
"Um... because... because my room is a mess."
"So? I don't care. My room looks like a solitary confinement cell."
You raise an eyebrow. Jason clears his throat.
"Well, I mean, it used to. It's better now that I have plants and shit."
"Lack of decor is nowhere near as embarrassing as my room, Jason. Mine is beyond messy. It's filled with half-eaten pizza crusts. And rats. And... slime?"
"Slime, huh? Well, good thing I wore my Doc Martens. I can withstand a little slime."
You sag. "You don't believe me."
Jason smiles and kisses your forehead. "Not particularly, baby. What's the issue, huh? You hiding nudie mags or something?"
You roll your eyes. "Who calls it that, Jay? You sound like Tony Soprano. Just say porn."
"Gracefully choosing to ignore that comment. Look, if y'do have porn, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You should feel safe to express and explore your sexuality however youâ"
"Oh my God, it's not porn." You cover your face. "Jesus. It'sâokay, just come in. If you're gonna break up with me over this, we might as well face it now."
"I'm not gonna break up with you," he says as you take his hand and lead him to your bedroom. "Nothing you show me couldâ"
You swing open the door. Jason trails off as he follows you in, his eyes landing on your 4x6 poster of the Red Hood that's smack middle in the room, taped over your bed.
And then, obviously, one can't miss the Red Hood towel on your computer chair, or the Red Hood mug. And the limited edition Red Hood Bat Burger bobblehead, which was quickly discontinued after some public backlash.
"Wow," Jason says.
You groan and bury your face in your hands. "It's fine. I know it's weird. Just go."
You donât know how it happened, this accumulation of Red Hood merch. It's not like people arenât fans of heroes. Plenty of local heroes are revered across the world. You have an online friend from Brazil who has literally all of the Superman collectibles. But Superman is reasonable. Batman is reasonable. Nightwing is common and basically a Gotham stapleâyou've seen women in Nightwing bikinis.
But Red Hood fans are far and few. Plenty of people think he's a criminal and a borderline villain. Some people, working-class people mostly, adore him. You've heard plenty of wonderful things he's done to turn neighborhoods around, keep people safe, fight The Man. Hell, last week there was a video of him carrying an old woman to the hospital after she fell in the road.
Plus, you get the feeling he's really handsome under that helmet. You're sure he's physically overwhelming, at the very least. You've seen clips of him fighting. Oh boy, can he hold his own.
But if you told the average person on the street that your favorite hero is Red Hood, they'd definitely give you a side eye. You brace yourself for one now.Â
"Huh," Jason says. "Didn't think you'd be a fan of his. Not really a hero, is he?"
You huff, squaring your shoulders. "He's helped a lot of people. No one actually cares about protecting us except for vigilantes. Red Hood protects innocents. If that takes a little bit of a heavier hand, so be it."
Jason raises his eyebrows. "Didn't know you played fast with morality like that, honey."
"You don't agree?" If this is where your relationship ends, you'd rather it happen sooner than later. "He's implemented a lot of fundamental structures that even Batman hasn't. He's more big-picture than the Bats. So, whatever, okay? If you think I'm nutty for liking Red Hood, then just go now."
You cross your arms and turn away from Jason. It's quiet for a long moment. You're sure it's done; you've just ruined the first relationship you really wanted to make work. But you've been on dates and let it slip that you admire Hood, and plenty of men let you know what an idiot you are to do so. You thought Jason would understand. Maybe not.
But then you feel arms around your stomach. Jason kisses your cheek.
"C'mon," he says chidingly, voice low and sweet in your ear. "Y'think it's that easy to scare me off? We live in Gotham, sweetheart. The only way I'd be worried is if you had someone's head sitting in your fridge. And even then, I'd hear ya out on whose head it is."
You lean into Jason's solid warmth, rubbing your cheek against his scruff like a cat. "I'd have my reasons if I did that."
"Mm, I know it."
You slip out of his grip enough to turn around. Jason's got a coy, little grin on, and you can't figure out why. But you suppose that's better than him leaving because of your local celebrity crush.
"You're really not annoyed?" you ask. "Because if you are, we should hash it out now."
"No, baby, 'm not annoyed." Jason glances at the Red Hood bobblehead. His grin widens, tongue resting between his teeth as he looks at you. You feel hunted, but the glint in Jasonâs eye quickly disappears. "I think he does what needs to be done."
"Yeah?"
"Sure. Just surprised, is all. He doesn't seem like your type."
You blink, heart beating faster. "My type? Well, I-I just think he contributes a lot to the city. It's not... I appreciate what he does for Gotham."
"Wait." He tilts his head like he's genuinely trying to figure something out. "D'you have a crush on Hood or something?"
You hesitate, flustered at how quickly Jason picked up on that. How does he do that? "I don'tâI mean, I admire himâhe'sâbut I don't even know what he looks like, soâ"
Jason's eyes light up, and you know you've made a mistake, just not the one you thought you would. He cups the back of your neck, which always makes you hot and squirmy.
"Oh, you do like him like that. Huh. Didn't know the helmet did it for you. Very interesting news, sweetheart. He doesn't scare ya?"
"No," you say, the word coming out weak. Wires are being crossed in your head between the image of the Red Hood and your boyfriend crowding you in your room and pressing his lips to your neck.
"That's very good to hear," Jason says, and you give in, tugging him over to your bed. He laughs. "Why didn't you want me to know?"
"It's embarrassing," you whine. "The poster was from a friend."
You let Jason climb atop you, permeating your senses with his bulk and his citrusy scent. He carefully keeps his weight off of you, but you wish he'd hold you down. This is exactly why you didn't want to bring Jason over; you don't need your old fantasies of Red Hood getting mixed up with your boyfriend.
"I don't think it's embarrassing," he says, gently taking your leg and crooking it over his hip. "You picturing him right now?"
"Jason!" You thwack his shoulder. You feel it more than he does, probably. He cackles.
"Teasin'," he says, soothing you with a kiss. "But I can get a helmet if you want me to."
You kick him off the bed. "No more tours for you!"
Work runs late a week later, so you're still out by the time eight o'clock rolls around. It's summer time, so it's not the worst thing ever, but you know what Jason would say. Your last message is still unread because Jason works most nights. Youâve chosen not to worry him by telling him you're also working tonight, instead texting him funny Gotham memes.
"Evening."
âŠMaybe you should've let him know.
You flinch, the voice startling you hard. Red Hood is leaning against the fence surrounding the park you pass by on your way to the bus stop. His arms are crossed, and his biceps bulge underneath his tight black t-shirt. You can't tell from here, but you're sure he must tower over you.
"Oh." Briefly, you wonder if you summoned him somehow after revealing your room to Jason last week. You've lived in Gotham your whole life and you've never run into Hood. The only vigilante you've met is Red Robin, and he's not a talker.
"Hi," you say, a little nervous, a little starstruck.
"Hi," Hood says, letting his arms drop. His posture is easy, but you know better. You know he's here for a reason. "Working tonight?"
You nod. "I just finished. I'm just going to the bus now."
"Pretty late for the bus."
"It's June."
"It's Gotham."
You open your mouth, then close it. Then you open it again. "Um... it's okay. I've done it plenty of times before."
"Plenty of times? Without letting anyone know?"
You wince. "Well, not plentyâ"
"Nobody to pick you up?"
You shrug. "No."
"No? Think hard." There's the tiniest edge to his tone.
"I mean, my boyfriend could, hypothetically, but he works nights, soâ"
"And you think his job is more important than making sure you're safe? It'd devastate him if something happened to you."
You blink. "I don'tâI guess I didn't think of it that way."
Hood shakes his head. Then he pushes himself off of the fence and approaches you. Immediately, your heart rate increases. To be this close to the Red Hood, to have him worry about little old you, scold you for not calling Jason, it's causing a confusing mix of emotions to swirl inside you.
You've thought about how you'd act if you met Red Hood. Maybe ask for an autograph if the opportunity arises. You can't fathom asking him for anything now. He's intimidating. Maybe you are a little afraid, but it's intertwined with other feelings.
You can't see his face but you feel like he doesn't believe you. "Sure?"
You wonder if he can see all of your vitals. Can he see how warm you feel? "Yes, I'm sure. It's just... I'm sort of a fan of you. So it's... it's an experience."
Hood laughs. "Fan? Don't think I have any fans."
You shake your head. "That's not true. I know a few people who like you."
He hums and approaches you slowly. You let him until he's close enough for you to take in his physicality completely. He's a couple inches taller than Jason. Not that it matters. Just an observation.
"'M flattered," he says softly. "But if you're jus' sayin' that 'cause you're a little scared, please don't."
"No, I'm not scared. I trust you, Red Hood."
He folds his arms, stretching his neck to his right shoulder. You catch a sliver of tanned, scarred skin. "So soon?"
"Uh-huh."
"Kinda crazy of ya."
You shrug. "Maybe."
"Hmm. We goin' home?"
"You want to take me home?" you ask, eyes wide.
"Not-not like that. I mean, I can't let ya go home alone."
"No, I know, I just... I didn't think Red Hood made home visits."
"Sometimes." He makes an aborted gesture to touch your cheek with his finger and you swallow hard. Your ears are very hot. You might choke on your spit.
"I didn't know Red Hood would care that much if I went home."
"'Course I do," he says softly. "Your safety is my priority."
"My-?"
"Civilians, I mean," Hood says quickly. "'S why I'm out here patrolling."
"But surely there's people who need you more than me. I'm just some nobody going home from work, Iâ"
"You're not a nobody. Don't say that," Hood says with so much force, it renders you silent. "Got it?"
You nod. "Okay. Sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry 'bout. C'mon, I'll take you home, okay?"
You really don't want to bother Jason at this hour. Besides, as far as vigilante escorts go, Hood really isn't the worst choice. Another person might be afraid. A sane person would refuse.
"Yes, I'm okay with that," you say, smiling. "Thank you."
"Sure. My bike is parked down the block."
He walks a little behind you, close enough for you to turn and talk to him, but angled so that nothing can sneak up on you. It's the way Jason walks with you sometimes. You wonder if it's a Gotham thing.
Hood's bike is a cherry red. He lets you type in your address into his GPS. Then he gives you a helmet.
"Safety first," he says. It's the same helmet that Jason wears for his motorcycle. For a second, you swear you can smell his aftershave. Orange blossoms.
Hood gestures for you to get on. He holds the bike steady and it seems like he's going to hold your back to help you onto the bike. But he doesn't touch you, not like Jason does.
"Ever been on a bike before?" he asks when you're on.
"My boyfriend's."
He hums, throwing a leg over and straddling the bike. You blink at the sudden wall of bulk in front of you. "He treat you right, that boyfriend?"
You nod. "He's amazing. I love him."
Hood is silent for a moment, then he clears his throat. "Good. Lady like you deserves to be treated like a princess."
You laugh. "You barely know me. I'm no princess."
"I got a good sense about people. Hold onto me."
You wrap your arms around his waist. He tuts at you.
"Gotta hold me tighter than that. Don't want you flying off. You know better."
You tighten your hold, flustered and speechless. Hood pats your hand.
"There we go. Good listener," he says. "Everything okay back there? You're quiet."
For a second, it sounds like he's teasing you, and your stomach jumps like when Jason teases you. But the Red Hood isn't playful like that, right?
"I'm okay," you say.
"Nervous?"
You shake your head. "No."
"No? Glad you've got so much faith in me."
"I do."
Hood turns on his bike, revving the engine. You squeeze him tighter as he flicks the kickstand up with his foot, pushing off and balancing. He does so effortlessly. Wow.
Hood gets you home quickly. He follows all the traffic laws and doesn't speed. He drives efficiently, like Jason, but he takes it slow on the leans... like Jason. Maybe he can feel how you get nervous on motorcycles.
"This is it?" he asks, slowing down next to your building.
"Yes. Thank you." You wait as Hood stops and gets off first, then helps you off. You take his gloved hand, and he helps you off like it's nothing, bearing most of your weight.
"No more secretly working nights," he tells you. "I'll know."
You don't question it. "Okay. I won't."
"Good. Have a good night."
He starts to mount his bike. You step off the curb, in front of him. Hood stops.
"What's up?" he asks, nodding at you. He addresses you so casually... so familiar.
"Um, I was... do you mind if I ask for your autograph?"
Hood looks at you for a long moment. You lose your nerve and turn around.
"Never mind! Sorry. Good night."
"Hang on."
You turn around. Hood beckons you over with two fingers. You go, eyes widening as he takes off his gloves. He gives them to you. You catch a glimpse of more scars and maybe a silver ring. Jason sometimes wears a silver chain around his neck. It dangles over you when heâsâ
"Oh no! Oh my God, you don't have toâ"
"Got a bunch." It sounds like he's smiling. "Always nice to meet a fan. Any trouble with that boyfriend, let me know."
You're not sure if you respond, you're so dazed. Hood pulls away from the curb like a bat out of hell, waving at you as he goes.
You're already in bed by the time Jason comes home from work. He comes home earlier than usual, and you're still awake when he crawls into your bed next to you. You've taken down the Red Hood poster, too embarrassed from last week. Jason insists he's going to get you an even bigger poster. You beg him not to.
"How'd you know I was at my place?" you ask, yawning.
"My apartment alarm didn't report anybody entering."
"Still think it's weird that you track who enters your apartment," you say.
"Safety first. You usually don't go to your place unless you're coming home from work. You wouldn't happen to have worked a shift tonight without telling me, would you?"
"Okay, yes, but please don't be mad. I didn't take the bus." You pause before finishing. "Red Hood actually gave me a ride home tonight."
You reach sleepily for Jason's arm. He tucks himself into place behind you, wrapping an arm and a leg around you. He smells like your shampoo.
"Yeah, don't think we aren't done with the conversation about you taking the bus home at night, by the way. Red Hood, huh? Should I be doubly worried then?"
You roll your eyes. "Not on my part. But I was definitely getting a vibe."
"A vibe? Red Hood's got the hots for my girl?"
Jason slips a hand under your shirt to rest on your stomach. His hands always run a little cool and they feel good on warm nights like tonight. He doesn't mean anything by it, but desire creeps onto you, slow and thick. You think of the gloves in your dresser.
"It kinda felt like that," you say, a little embarrassed to even admit it. "He, uh, gave me his gloves."
"His gloves?" Jason sounds sleepy. "That's basically a proposal."
You'd never cheat on Jason, obviously, but you've had a crush on the Red Hood since he came to Gotham. Riding on his motorcycle tonight was exhilarating, to say the least. Still, you don't want this to be a thing. Another guy would probably get upset.
But Jason's tone doesn't change. He's still sleepy and peaceful. "'M not. Might have to kick his ass, though."
You laugh at the thought. Jason kneads the soft fat of your stomach. "Something funny?" he asks. "Y'think I can't take him?"
"I know you could," you say, and you mean it, even though you're not sure how well your boyfriend can dodge bullets. "But, I mean, you're too nice for him, Jay. Hood fights dirty when he needs to. You fight fair."
"Wow. So you don't think I could beat Red Hood in a fight. Way to bruise a man's ego, baby." Jason buries his face in the back of your neck in retaliation. You squeal at the tickles.
"I didn't say that!" you say, giggling. "It's a compliment. You're too nice to scrap with him. Ah! Jason, mercy, mercy!"
"So you're saying he's mean?" Jason asks, showing mercy and easing off. He returns to just holding you, leg over yours.
"Not... not to civilians. Not to me. He's just a little rough overall, I think. But he seemed nice."
"Oh my God, you loved it," Jason says, no longer sounding so sleepy. "You loved being on his bike. You loved him being a little rough. This was a dream come true."
"No! No, Jason, it wasn't like that."
"You got the hots for Hood," he sing-songs. "Hood hots, Hood hots!"
"I don't, I don't," you say, shoving your face into your pillow. "Stop. You know you're the only one for me."
Jason hums, pushing himself up so he's on top of you without putting his weight on you. He pets your hip. "Yeah, baby, I know. Don't worry. Not mad. I think it's cute. You got a little flustered around him. No biggie. I trust ya."
You sigh, turning your face to the side. "He was professional."
Jason snorts. "Yeah, he better have been. Pretty lady like you holding onto him."
"I'm sure he helps way prettier ladies in a night," you mumble.
Jason easily rolls you over, so you're facing each other. He tucks you into his chest, an arm and a leg returning to their places around you.
"I seriously doubt it," he says. You can feel his voice vibrate through his chest. "Everyone knows you're the prettiest princess in Gotham, baby."
You hesitate, thinking about Hood. "Princess?"
"Yeah. That okay?"
"Oh. Yeah, that's fine."
Jason makes a noise like he knows something you don't.
Every so often, you really hate living in Gotham. It's usually around a time like this: Scarecrow has broken out of Arkham, and he's causing serious damage. Everyone has been warned to stay inside, and the sky is hazy with fear gas.
You're mostly worried about Jason. He went out a few hours ago and he hasn't texted you since. You asked where he was and called him a dozen times but he didn't respond. You're freaking out.
You're about to go out and look for him, Scarecrow be damned, when suddenly Red Hood is on the balcony of your boyfriend's apartment. How did he avoid tripping the alarm? You go to open the window but he opens it himself.
Shit. Is Hood breaking into Jason's apartment? Who the hell do you call in this situation?
"Hey," he says, voice tight. "Get your bag. We gotta go. Scarecrow and Ivy teamed up and it's bad."
"What? Okay. Oh my God." You jump into action, running into Jason's room to get your stuff. You come back, about to climb out the window, but you stop. He waves you over urgently. You shake your head and take a step back.
"No, I can't go without Jason," you say. "He was supposed to be back by now. What if he's gassed? He hasn't called me."
Hood fidgets, his whole body restless. He looks around, then looks back at you. "I'm sure he's fine. You can call him again when you'reâ"
"No," you say, staring those glowing white eyes down. "I don't care what authority you might hold, Hood. I'm not leaving Jason. He might come back here and he'll worry if I'm not here. I was going to go look for him."
"Don't do that," he says firmly. "Jesus." He looks at you, rolls his shoulders, then sighs. He shakes his head and grabs his helmet.
"Fuck," he says. "Fuck, I didn't wanna do it this way. Shit. Okay."
The latches of his helmet click. And suddenly you have your boyfriend in front of you, dressed like the Red Hood. He drops his helmet on the floor.Â
Your mouth falls open. "WhâJason? What? Are youâyou were him the whole time? Are you fucking serâ"
"I know, I'm sorry." He takes your hands. "I'm sorry, honey. I wasn't gonna tell you this way but you're so stubborn, worrying about me and shit. I promise you can yell at me as much as you want after. You can throw stuff, hit me, break up with me, anything you want, justâ"
You squeeze his hands. Jason stops his senseless ramble.
"I would never do any of those things," you say. "You don't know me at all if you think I would, Jay. I'm just, y'know, caught off-guard. Apparently, I've had a crush on my boyfriend since he before he became my boyfriend."
He cracks a smile. You roll your eyes.
"And you've been a smug asshole about it this whole time!"
"Kinda," he admits, looking away, and you see how pleased he's been about the whole thing. "I'll make it up to ya."
"Yeah, you better. Where are we going?"
Jason's shoulders slump with relief. You see it in his eyes too.Â
"You'll go with me?"
"Always," you say.
He takes his helmet, shifting from your boyfriend back to Red Hood. Wow. "Okay. Down the fire escape. We're taking my bike."
Jason puts his helmet back on. You follow him down the fire escape and to where hisâHood'sâbike is parked.
"Your bike, huh?" you ask.
"My other bike."
"Uh-huh."
Hood gives you a rebreather and you take off, headed toward the Diamond District. He goes down a ramp and through some pretty fancy gates. Where...?
Concrete walls slide open and Jason pulls into what looks like a lair. Holy shit. He helps you off and you take off your helmet, staring up at a cave ceiling that seems to go on forever.
"Hood," someone growls, startling your gaze back down. Batman is glaring at you. "Why is there a civilian here?"
Jason takes off his helmet. "Yeah, so, this is my girlfriend. She's staying here, and if you try to kick her out, I'm gonna blow up the Batmobile. Cool? Cool."
"Since when do you have a girlfâ" begins Red Robin.
"No questions," Jason snaps. "Not one word. Be nice to her or I'll kill you all."
You gasp. Jason turns to you, pulling you closer.
"No, sorry, I wouldn't do that. No deaths. They would recover from my maiming," he says to you, petting your shoulder.
"Not better," you hiss.
He shrugs, smiling. "'M a man of habit. Gonna try to change me now?" He kisses your cheek and you melt like you always do under his affection. Jason leans in and whispers the last part: "You could. I'd let ya."
"Wow," says Spoiler. Is the entire Gotham vigilante taskforce here? "So it's true what they say about married life."
"We aren't married," you say, confused. Jason grunts in annoyance, cradling the small of your back.
"With how he's acting? You might as well be," she says.
"This is so awesome," Nightwing says, full of glee. "Oh, you'll never hear the end of this, Jason."
"Listen, Dickbagâ"
"Focus," Batman says. "She can't be here. Take her upstairs and come right back."
Jason rolls his eyes. "Sure, fine. C'mon, baby."
Robin is glaring at you, which kind of makes you want to throw up. But then Black Bat and Spoiler wave at you, and that makes you feel better. You wave back.
"Batman's really mad," you say as Jason leads you upstairs.
"Yeah, that's his default setting. He's been mad for about twenty-five years. He'll get over it. You're gonna meet Alfred next. He's the best."
"Alfred?"
You get to the top of the stairs and step into what looks like a mansion. Wait a minute. You've seen this mansion before. In a magazine...
"Is this Wayne Manor? What the hell, Jason? Am I meeting the Queen of Denmark next?"
"Again, not how I wanted you to find out," he says.
"I'mâI'm not dressed to be in Wayne Manor!"
"Bruce dresses up as a bat every night. Rest assured that you are the most normal person in this house, and none of those freaks downstairs can ever take that away from you."
You frown. "Still..."
"Don't y'trust me?" Jason asks, tapping under your chin. He towers over you, and now you notice that his Red Hood boots are taller than his normal ones. Clever.
"Yeah, I trust you, butâ" You stop as Jason herds you against the wall, helmet dangling from his hand. He looks very official with his guns and armored clothing. His black cargo pants are pulled taut around his thighs, outlining how thick they are. It's just now occurring to you how deadly competent your boyfriend is, now that you've learned that the Red Hood was never that far away. Maybe you should be scared but, well, the wires were crossed a while ago.
"I didn't even suspect anything," you say, blinking at him. "You had me completely."
Jason shrugs, eyes half-lidded. You're not mad. He knows it. "Made sure you wouldn't find out. Wanted to find the right time, see how you felt about Hood. And then imagine my surprise when I learn that you've got his face on your wall, and his gloves in your dresser."
"You liked it," you say, lifting your chin, challenging.
Jason leans in, cupping the back of your neck, lips going to your ear. He wedges a knee between yours. "How could I not? You're so pretty, so nice t'me. Y'like me that much? Want me even like that? Tellin' Hood you love me, Godâ"
Something beeps, loud and shrill, and you jump. Jason just sighs exasperatedly, pulling out his phone and denying the alert.
"You have to go," you say, suddenly guilty you've kept Jason for so long.
"Iâ" Jason grimaces. "Yeah. I'll be back. We're not done."
You bite the inside of your lip. "I hope not."
Jason kisses you, hot and hard, and then he seems to steel himself, shifting into whatever Gotham needs him to be. He puts his helmet on and brushes your cheek, then disappears down the stairs to the Cave. You lean against the wall, catching your breath.
Yeah my tarot cards are telling me that yep that fictional man is in love with you⊠uh huh⊠he thinks youâre exceptionally beautiful and charming⊠oh and look here he wants to kiss you sooo bad
