#is this self indulgent bc I hate my job? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 8 months ago

Note

You asked for Spencer Reid and Reader requests, particularly plus size, and I am so down bad for that man! Especially later seasons him.

Could I have one where he and the reader are intellectual peers but also enemies? Like she's on the team and just as wicked smart as him and into old literature and languages but they constantly butt heads? And the team knows they really just have feelings for each other, but they'll never admit it. Maybe the reader admits it to Penelope or someone one night drinking that he's hot but she never thought he'd actually sleep with her bc she's fat, but she'll take his attention any way she can get it. Maybe Spencer overhears and proceeds to show her just how hot he finds her arguing with him? 👀 Thank you in advance, girlie!

༉‧₊˚. 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

— pairing: spencer reid x plus size!reader

— summary: you and spencer hate each other, that much is obvious... right?

— warnings: very surprisingly crude language in this, self-doubt, implied insecurities, misunderstandings, e2l, they're in love and everyone else knows besides them, i made them dorks i don't apologize, mentions of wet dreams, mentions of male masturbation, dirty thoughts, kissing, stripping, vaginal fingering, spencer's dirty mouth, lots of reassurance 'cause i'm a sap, spencer reid #1 consent king, missionary, unprotected sex, sex god spencer?!?! (he does his research), pleasure dom!spencer, switch r & spencer, heavy praise, and a fluffy ending to tie this all up in a nice little bow!

— wc: 3136

⋆ a/n: okay i do admit that this is RIDICULOUSLY long, but i knew exactly what i was getting into writing this and honestly i had so much fun! i don't think i've ever created such characters that have so much chemistry with each other, so cheers to that! (unedited unfortunately :[)

masterlist | AO3

As soon as you hear Spencer’s voice, you make a point to groan obnoxiously loud.

“And just to think I would be able to go home without a headache today.”

You could feel the glare from said man burning a hole in the back of your head, so you swivel your chair around in order to face the music – in a pleasurable masochist kind of way. His annoyingly handsome face was twisted up in irritation – much to your glee – his eyebrows turned down, and his perfect, plush lips pulled into a deep frown.

You could tell you had interrupted him saying something that he deemed important, most likely a fact that you and him would go back and forth on, and you couldn’t be more pleased with yourself.

“Funny you mention that seeing as though your voice is the cause of mine.” He bit back, his eyes narrowed into slits. “Aw, you think of my voice?” You tease. “Only in my nightmares.” You wink at him. “You still think about me.”.

“You know what this reminds me of?” Luke piped up from his own desk, drawing the attention from your other intrigued co-workers in the bullpen. “Oh here we go.” Tara said in amusement at Luke’s rambling.

“Back when I was a kid there was this girl that I went to school with, and I would always tug on her hair or try to trip her,” His voice was almost reminiscent. “Everyone thought I hated her, when in reality I was just trying to get her attention.”

“Ah,” Matt said with a smile, “The classic ‘boy bullying the girl he likes,’ or in this case, it’s the girl this time.” Your cheeks began to heat and your eyes went wide, Spencer’s own face and the tips of his ears turning an admirable pink hue.

“Absolutely not -”

“What? No -”

Both Spencer and you stumbled over each other to try and defend yourself, but you didn’t have a chance because Emily’s voice cut through whatever was about to be said next, the woman making haste from her office and into the room with the round table.

“Alright you guys, enough. We’ve got a case.”

“To a job well done!” Penelope cheered as she held up her citrusy alcoholic beverage in the air, signaling she wanted to toast.

You smiled indulgently at the woman sitting next to you, clinking your glass with hers noisily and flickering your eyes over to where a disheveled Spencer Reid sat. You didn’t say anything to him though, because you’re a big ol’ softie and like to let the boy wonder rest before you have him back on his toes.

His eyes met yours the same time your glasses collided. You wish you could say that the vibrations from the clinking was the cause of the shiver that forced its way down your spine, but you knew better.

It was like the rest of the bar disappeared, the sound of the others joining in on your rejoicing fell on deaf ears. You could have sworn his dark brown puppy-dog eyes drank you in before he looked away and cleared his throat, taking a rather comically large gulp of his water.

Your eyelashes fluttered like a thousand butterflies wings as you rushed to drink your own beverage.

“Okay, what was that!?” You felt Penelope’s finger poke at your ribs before you actually heard her.

“Ow - fuck! What was what?” You yelped quietly, your hand reaching down to bat away her stabbing digits. “The - the -” She fought to portray her words before her face lit up when she found the correct ones, “The eyefucking!”

Your stomach erupted in butterflies, “Eyefucking? What eyefucking?” You asked with a scoff, hiding your blush behind the rim of your mug.

“Oh, please, don’t give me that.” It was Penelope’s turn to scoff at you. “Everybody knows that you and Spencer like each other.” She said it almost like it was a fact, leaning forward to take a smug sip of her drink through the miniature black straw.

Spencer knew listening in on Penelope and your conversation was inappropriate; but in his defense, you guys weren’t really quiet about what you were talking about.

“I -” He heard you begin, “It’s one-sided.” Was all you said before draining your beer. “So you admit it!” Penelope exclaimed with a gasp.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide at her words, but there was this desperate feeling that spread throughout his body; one that caused his fingers to twitch and the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

“When you put it like that it sounds childish!” You complained slightly, biting at the meat of your lip. “I… I’m just not his type you know? Like - you know better than anyone that guys don’t pay attention to girls like us, so you have to learn to improvise.” You were cringing at your own words, but the liquid in your cup was enough to loosen your tongue and lower your inhibitions.

“Was me choosing to constantly argue with him the smartest way to try and peak his interest? No, but I knew he liked a challenge and well… it definitely wasn’t the proudest conclusion I ever came to, but what was I supposed to do? It isn’t like Spencer would date me let alone actually want to sleep with me.”

Spencer wanted to argue with you about how wrong you were, to tell you about every thought he’d ever had about you.

He wanted to tell you about how much you frustrate him, how at first, he thought he hated you and it took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he hated how badly he wanted you; hated how many dirty dreams he had included you and that plush body of yours. He’d wondered how soft you were, how you smelled and tasted.

Did your moans and whines sound as enchanting as your laugh? Did your eyes twinkle the same way when you were about to cum?

Those thoughts kept him up at night and his hands in his pants, stroking himself to his unlimited imagination all revolved around you. Those were the days that he was more prone to pick fights with you, mostly because he was embarrassed, ashamed, and quite frankly plain ol’ horny.

Spencer thought you were just so sexy, especially when he had managed to light that fire under your ass that really got you going. He wasn’t a sadist or a masochist by any means, but he loved when you yelled at him. So, for you to think so lowly of yourself it almost drove him mad because you didn’t know.

But you were going to.

You were going to kill whoever was bothering you on your day off.

The knocking was unexpected, but so was who was responsible for the noise.

“Spencer?” You asked in surprise.

Usually you were prepared for your exchanges with the man, but if your pajamas were anything to go by, you were anything but. Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your tits sitting braless in a thin undershirt, your soft tummy slightly straining against the cotton material and a pair of shorts that look like they were practically strangling your thighs.

The only thing he could really say was… “Do you know how infuriating you are?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms over your chest, and little did you know the action pressed the tops of your breasts over the hemline. “Excuse me?” You almost scoffed, “Please don’t tell me you came all the way here just to argue with me.”

“No I - fuck just let me finish.” This was not how he wanted this to go. You looked like you wanted to say something but your curiosity made you choose to stay silent.

“Do you know why you’re so infuriating?” He asked, taking a tentative but careful step towards you. “Because you haunt my every living thought. I see you when I’m awake, I see you when I’m asleep. I can’t… I can’t escape you! I can’t escape how I feel about you.”

Your eyes were wide and your brows were furrowed; it looked like you almost couldn’t breathe.

“But you want to know the worst part?” His hand lands on your cheek and his thumb gently caresses the skin there. “You have the audacity to think that I wouldn’t want you.”

“You want me?” You asked in disbelief. “But I… but I thought you hated me? I mean - I haven’t been all that nice to you.” You attempt to joke weakly, but your body is on fire; your stomach is tangled up in knots. You were trembling in excitement at his words but in disbelief too.

“Do you have any idea how much I love arguing with you?”

You laughed at his words, your lips slipping into a small smirk as you threw your arms around his neck in an act of boldness. “Oh yeah?” You hummed seductively. “You wanna show me how much?”

“Yeah,” He replied breathlessly. “I do.”

And just like that his mouth was on yours and a long leg shot out behind him to shut your front door. The slam made you yelp, but it quickly melted into a giggle against his lips when he reconnected them.

Spencer tugged you closer to him, and God the feeling of your body was so much better than anything his subconscious could have conjured up. You felt so soft and the front part of your torso pressed against his chest in a way that if he didn’t have you naked under him soon he was going to go crazy.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He didn’t want to pull away from you, but he wanted to do this right.

“I didn’t know you were a gentleman, Reid.” You teased with a dazed smile on your face. “There’s a lot of things that you don’t know about me.” You quirked a brow. “Oh really? How about you tell me?”

“Later,” He said with a lazy shake of his head, “Later.”

His hand reached down to cup your ass, your crotch rubbing on the large boner restrained by his pants. You moaned quietly at the feeling, and found yourself saying, “Down the hall and to the left.”

When you arrived, he couldn’t keep his hands off you; they grabbed at your back, ass, waist, hips. There was so much of you that he had no idea where to start. All he knew is that he wanted all of you right now.

“Can I take your shirt off, please?” His words almost came out as a whine and it welcomed a fresh wave of arousal in your panties. “Take off whatever you want, I’m yours.” A reassuring confession that Spencer had no idea he needed to hear.

His lithe, veiny hands tugged at your top first, dragging it over your head and throwing it somewhere random. Your pants and panties were next to go and you couldn’t help but shiver at Spencer's intense stare.

“I’m uh- feeling a little vulnerable here, could you lose a layer or two?”

The man blinked rapidly, his fingers shooting to undo the buttons on his cardigan. “Yes, yeah of course, sorry I -'' You grabbed the shaky digits. “Calm down, take it slow. I’m not going anywhere.” It was a light jab meant to ease his nerves. For a moment he looked unsure but you gave an encouraging smile.

After his clothes disappeared he held you by your waist, walking you backwards until your calves hit the bed. You quickly hurried to scale the mattress until your head hit the pillows.

“God,” Spencer gulped. “This is so much better than what I imagined.” You giggled slightly. “As much as I appreciate your flattery, I want you to fuck me. Now.” You said it with such simplicity that his eyes nearly bulged out of his sockets at your crudeness.

He swallowed his shock. “Whatever the lady wants.”

He hurried to crawl over your leaning body; you cup his cheek in an act of haste, dragging him down to lay on top of you. His own hands didn’t stop their determined trail, tracing the soft planes of your plush body until he reached your wet cunt.

You whine loudly at the feeling of Spencer’s fingers stroking your damp slit.

“So responsive.” He murmured with delighted smirk. You go to say something snarky but you’re quickly cut off when he begins to rub tight circles on your clit. “‘M sensitive.” You gasp against his lips, your back arching and pressing further into him.

His body falls to the side, laying next to your naked one with a cheek balanced on his fist. “I’m gonna make you cum on my fingers first,” Spencer whispers into your ear. His ring finger entered your warmth slowly and he felt himself choke on his words. You mewled, a hand shooting up to tangle in his long, curly hair, the other grabbed at his wrist.

“Then, I’m gonna make you cum on my cock.” After a few experimental twists of his wrist, his middle finger joins the first. Your breathing speeds up with every movement of his digits.

“Afterwards, ‘m gonna clean you up and take you out to eat.” Your brain could barely process what he was saying, but every word that left his mouth added to the swarming butterflies in your gut – which felt so juvenile seeing as though he was already knuckle deep inside you.

“And when we get home, I’m gonna eat this sweet pussy for dessert.”

Your eyelashes were fluttering rapidly, your hips moving frantically on his fingers in an attempt to try and get him deeper. Spencer must have sensed what you needed, because with a few firm swipes on your sensitive clit sent you spiraling over the edge.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer… I - I -” Your gummy walls squeezed his digits, and the only thing keeping you grounded was the heat coming from his body.

“Wow.” You laughed breathlessly. “Wow indeed.” He mimics with the same amount of amusement.

“Are you okay to keep going?” He asks.

“Are you kidding?” The look on his face was almost laughable, and you gave his naked chest an encouraging pat. “Hell yeah I’m good, how about you?”

“If I told you I could cum just from watching you, would you believe me?” You roll your eyes and snort. “We’ll find out later, loverboy. Get up here.”

He scrambles to get on top of you, but then stops. “Wait, wait,” He reaches behind your head and grabs a pillow. “Lift your hips up for me.” Your eyes go wide, because who in the fuck taught him that? Though you move a bit slowly through your surprise, he manages to get the soft thing under you, your lower back now elevated.

But all excitement dies out when he realizes there might be no protection, he looks like he could almost cry.

“It’s cool, Spence. I’m on the pill and I… I haven’t had sex with anyone in an embarrassingly long time.” You admit shyly, your eyes casting to the side nervously. “I’m clean too. I don’t really remember the last time I’ve had sex either.”

You guys make eye contact and erupt into a fit of giggles, “To relearning the art of sexual intercourse then.” Spencer scrunches his nose up at your wording, but you don’t give him any time to retort because you’ve already placed two hands on his face, tugging his head down to kiss your smile-split lips.

He takes the time to kiss you for a moment before reaching down to line his dick up to your entrance. You both shiver at the sensation. You guys disconnect your lips to watch him enter you, your foreheads pressed together and breaths mingled in anticipation.

You moaned in unison when he slowly but surely seethed himself in you fully, and your body tensed at the long awaited intrusion. “Gimme a sec.” You gulped. “Yeah, yeah, of course.” He panted.

You allowed yourself a moment to relax, brushing your fingers through his curls as a way to comfort Spencer as well. After taking a few more seconds to enjoy the raw, intimate moment between the two of you, you said, “Okay. Okay, I’m good.”

Spencer licked his lips and rolled his hips tentatively, and your breath hitched. A string of whimpers were soon to follow with every drag of his cock against your sensitive inner walls, the leftovers of your previous orgasm leaving your body feeling electric.

Your mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape when his tip brushes your g-spot.

“Right - right there Spence…good boy - fuck - good fucking boy.”

The term of endearment was an accidental slip of the tongue, but it had frayed some nerve in his body, because the groan that left him was guttural and hungry.

“Say -” He huffs. “Say it again, please.” The pace of his thrusts speed up as he begs, and your nails drag down his back. “You’re my good boy, Spencie.” His eyes flutter shut at the praise and he doesn’t bother to be gentle anymore.

“Mphm! More - I need more.”

“Okay, okay.” He rushed to balance on his elbow so that his other arm could slip between the two of your bodies to rub at your clit. Your back arched, and Spencer all but throbbed inside of you, his balls tightening and threatening to cum right then and there; but ever the gentleman, he waited, his stomach sucked in tightly and his body jolting quivering.

“I - I’m gonna cum.”

It didn’t take much to pull you into a kiss. It was sloppy, and messy, and lewd and all of those other wonderful synonyms. Spit dribbled down your chins and with one last hard thrust that almost sent you up the bed, you gripped onto the older man for dear life.

Everything went white as you came; your hearing, your vision, every single cognitive thought you had pretty much flew out the window.

It was Spencer gently wiping the sweat off of your brow that brought you back down to reality, your lungs finally opening up and expanding for that much needed air.

“Hey,” He cooed. “There you are.”

“Hi,” You sighed with a ditzy smile on your face.

There was a moment of silence before you said, “How about we save the oral for breakfast?” Spencer laughed, but nonetheless nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.”

“So, what’s for dessert then?” He couldn’t help but ask. “Hm…” You pondered for a moment.

“How about ice cream?”

“I like ice cream.” But then he added, “But I like you more.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst.” You groaned, covering your eyes, but your grin gave you away. “I like you too, I guess.”

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gluion · 1 month ago

Text

wish you were sober — seok matthew

seok matthew x reader, slight myung jaehyun x reader

wc — 6.9k genre & warnings — fluff, light angst, crack, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, vomitting in one scene, kissing/making out, jealousy, zb1 friendgroup antics, HAOBIN AND GYUBRIK CANON SRY, boynextdoor and kiss of life cameo, reader has hair long enough to be tucked and held back playlist/inspired by — apt. by rosé & bruno mars // sober II by lorde // wish you were sober by conan gray // urs by niki // lovers rock by tv girl notes — wrote this mainly bc my life changed the moment matthew read my sign in the jebewon con, finished it the day matthew was @ the prada event. and in both instances, i've gotten significantly more ill, so here's this very self-indulgent, self-insert fic (where aspects are derived from my own experiences) <3 if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback! request to be part of the taglist! masterlist

synopsis — as far as matthew knows, you still liked another man. yet, your friendship with him takes a sudden turn over a drunken confession... or three.

(or in other words, the three times you confess to matthew under the influence but he never believes you—until you tell him sober.)

the first time you confess to matthew happens on the night of hanbin’s graduation—no, not a confession of love but one of attraction.

if matthew has to be completely honest, he still doesn’t know what to make of your words. over the course of three years, he wouldn’t have suspected your interest in him. if anything, he’s under the impression you still like jaehyun. yet, everything shifts the moment he stumbles into the same bathroom as you.

“hanbin, have you found yourself a job?” gyuvin pops the long awaited question.

more than half of the group finds themselves in the kitchen. matthew knows that gunwook’s coming from soccer practice and yujin had to stay home for a doctor’s appointment the next day. as for you, he remembers seeing you with julie on the search for jaehyun and sungho.

the graduated fellow groans. “don’t remind me that i’m unemployed. this whole job search is going to kill me.” hao chuckles as hanbin rests his head on his shoulder.

gyuvin slings his arm around jiwoong’s shoulders. “oh, don’t worry! i’m sure this employed man can make something happen, right?”

“me? you should be asking ricky!” all eyes land on the blond who sips away on a drink. “he’s the one with a family business. i’m barely making it in that goddamn nine to five that i’m still mixing shit for you college students.”

ricky elbows jiwoong’s side, causing the man to yelp. “you could be asking me for a job if you really hated the one you have now.”

“really? you could save me?” jiwoong almost gets on his knees until matthew holds him back.

“please don’t do that. not everyone knows you here.”

the man complies and puts his hands together. “ricky, please. i might just kill myself if i have to deal with another overtime. i mean, i can’t even remember the last time i properly hung out with you guys.”

“i don’t think anyone expects you to stick with us all the time. you have a job.” taerae’s point only brings him to a fit of laughter as jiwoong tickles him.

regardless of how loud taerae and jiwoong are, the rest of the group continues to discuss hanbin’s dilemma. “but yes, i could make something happen if you really want,” ricky offers.

“really? thank you!” hanbin hugs him. “it’s almost impossible to find a job. i don’t know why.”

“tell me about it. i can’t even get an internship. i’m already willing to settle for an unpaid one but no one seems to be accepting,” taerae complains as he leans against the wall.

hao swishes around the alcohol in his cup. “that does make me wanna ask what the upcoming seniors are planning to do.” his eyes darted between taerae and matthew.

taerae grins. “the goal is to become a trophy wife.”

“of course it is.” gyuvin laughs before leaning against ricky. “i’m marked safe. i don’t know about you guys.”

jiwoong groans while taerae rolls his eyes at their public display of affection. “you don’t have to rub it in our faces.”

“yeah, whatever. what about you?” ricky looks at matthew. “are you still planning for medschool or is there another career crisis happening again?”

he shakes his head. “nah, i’m still pretty set on med school. next year is going to be hell for me.”

“ah, that means matthew is going to be the one providing for his partner! taerae, now’s your chance.” hanbin’s joke has everyone bursting into laughter.

taerae dramatically clears his throat, choking in between which only makes them wheeze. “matthew, can i be yours?”

matthew gets closer to his friend, his face only a few inches apart before saying, “not until you let me become yours.” at his double down, everyone starts to make gagging noises, including taerae who physically cringes.

“get a room!”

“damn, no kiss?” ricky’s joke in contrast to gyuvin’s complaint has jiwoong chuckling.

“yeah, you know what? fuck you, guys. i’m going to find someone at this damn party.” with that, taerae ventures off. jiwoong follows without another word.

gyuvin’s phone rings in his pocket. as he brings it out, he sees a message. “oh, gunwook’s already here! i’m gonna go grab him.” ricky trails behind his partner, leaving matthew with the other couple.

hanbin looks around before asking, “hey, where is y/n?”

“last time i saw them, they were looking for myungjae and sungho.” matthew chugs down his drink before letting out a sigh.

“i wonder when they’ll finally grow a pair and ask him out, or just do something about it,” hao wonders out loud as he stares off into the crowd. “it’s almost painful to watch. i feel like i need to play cupid.”

“wait, why haven’t you been helping them out?”

hanbin’s question has matthew laughing in disbelief. “you think i haven’t? i’ve done almost everything to push them. i even told them all the signs that show he’s clearly interested, but y/n won’t budge. i’m surprised they’ve been sane enough to not say anything even while drunk.”

it almost seems like their conversation summoned jaehyun into the kitchen as he comes rushing to them. “oh, speak of the devil. we were just talking about you,” matthew says with a smile until he sees worry taking over jaehyun’s features.

“guys, i think y/n had too much to drink.”

matthew stands up straight. “where are they?”

“in the bathroom with julie.”

without another word, matthew makes his way to you while jaehyun follows. “what even happened?”

“y/n was fine, i swear. with how they were acting, we all thought they were just tipsy. but it was like watching a sudden switch from that to… genuinely almost passing out.”

it’s not that matthew doesn’t trust jaehyun. if anything, he would trust him any other day to watch over you, but tonight’s events only show that jaehyun still has much to learn about you. the guilt in his voice only shows how much he cares.

as soon as matthew spots sungho and natty outside of the bathroom, he rushes to them. “oh, thank god you’re here. julie is helping them freshen up right now,” sungho says.

“we weren’t trying to get them blackout drunk, we swear. we really thought they were okay, but i don’t think they ate enough before drinking. me and julie were helping y/n as they were throwing up but they kept looking for you.”

matthew rubs his chin over natty’s explanation. “can i go in?”

“uh, let me check.” natty knocks on the door before swinging it open.

“matthew, we’re sorry. we really didn’t know,” jaehyun apologizes.

before matthew can say anything, julie exits the bathroom. “i think they puked out whatever they could. just make sure they stay close to the toilet.”

without another word, matthew makes his way to the doorway. he sees your hunched figure by the bathtub as you sit on the tiled-floor. in your drunken state, you don’t notice him as you quietly sing a melody.

matthew should’ve been filled with worry. yet, he thinks back to natty’s words, and the image of you looking for him plays in his mind—and it’s a smile that he can’t get rid of.

once he closes the door behind him, your eyes snap to him. “matthew! you’re here.” your slurred words bring him to a chuckle.

matthew remembers the last time you were this drunk; it’s funny to find you in the same situation after telling him multiple times that you wouldn’t drink that much ever again. he crouches to your side, taking in the sight of your disheveled state. “y/n, i thought we weren’t going to drink that much anymore.”

“i know,” you hiccup before your eyes shut, “i’m sorry.”

sure, you were always a mess whenever you drank this much, but you were never intolerable—never to matthew. (after all, he’d deal with you in your most intoxicated state over the others.)

his hand reaches out to tuck some strands behind your ear. at the presence of his warmth, your cheek snuggles against his palm. “you don’t have to be sorry. it’s okay.” you melt into his touch.

without thinking, his thumb caresses your cheek, etching invisible shapes onto your skin. he watches you twitch over the action, and your eyes meet him once more.

matthew’s ready to draw his hand back, help you stand up and escort you back to your place—

“you’re so pretty.”

his movements halt. matthew doesn’t know if he heard you right or if the alcohol is getting to him as well.

“huh?”

and the next thing you say stops him from breathing. “you’re so cute.”

it’s not unusual for you to compliment him, really, but something’s different about now. maybe it’s the alcohol or the distance between you two, but all matthew knows is that your words carried some weight different from other instances.

perhaps now is the worst time for matthew to be stuck in a daze. you’re drunk. he shouldn’t be making a fuss over the nonsense you spout, which is why he fails to catch the telltale signs of your impending nausea. (and you clearly wouldn’t have caught yourself in your intoxicated state.)

before you both know it, you throw up on yourself, and that finally snaps matthew out of a haze. he’s quick to grab the trashcan and bring it close to you. as you vomit, he holds your hair back. it keeps on going, and going, and going—at least matthew will take that as a clear sign that you’re done for the night.

on the next day, matthew asks if you remember what you said last night. when he’s met by your confusion, he knows better than to not think anymore of what you said then.

(and instead of sharing your slurred words, he tells you of the vomiting mishap in the bathroom. jesus fucking christ, i am not drinking ever again, you say in embarrassment.)

ever since that night, matthew has made it a habit to ask about your progress with jaehyun. it’s not that he’s running away from the events of that night. after all, hanbin’s right; matthew should do a better job in playing cupid for you and jaehyun. yet, all questions pertaining to your relationship with the boy were always met with a shrug and a refusal to dive into the details.

a few months pass. something romantic has yet to develop between you and jaehyun. at this point, matthew is feeling hopeless about the future you dream with that boy, but he isn’t the type to give up. he knows that there’s something between you two—all you need is a push.

“happy birthday, gyuvin!” everyone cheers as their cups clink against each other.

the birthday boy grins as he leans on ricky’s shoulder. “thanks, everyone. i’m glad you guys are here,” he mumbles. his cheeks have gone red and his words are starting to slur. considering how long the party has been going, matthew isn’t surprised to see gyuvin very much intoxicated.

for his birthday, he decided to invite his friends from his other social circles; basketball jocks, gaming nerds, and even student council folks take over his house as they talk and play over drinks. gyuvin thinks now would be the best time for all of his friends to meet. still, most of the group sticks together.

“you know, you should just hire me to bartend for your parties. everyone in this party seems to be chugging the drinks i mix for them,” jiwoong jokes as he bumps his shoulder against gyuvin.

“isn’t the next party going to be halloween? are we even planning to host one?” hanbin asks.

taerae tries to recall the previous arrangement. “didn’t we agree to spend halloween with yujin?”

“nah, we decided on christmas. yujin said he has plans for halloween, so we can host or just find another party to crash.” gunwook’s response brings the whole group to look at him. he raises his hands in defense. “don’t look at me! i’m not offering to host.”

“does myungjae not plan to host one?” hao’s question seems to be directed at matthew with how his eyes are on him.

jiwoong brings his hands together. “perfect! he might hire me.”

matthew rolls his shoulders back. ever since he tried playing cupid, he doesn’t know why everyone seems to go to him for anything related to you and jaehyun. first, it was when gunwook wanted to know about jaehyun’s schedule. next, it was gyuvin when he asked if jaehyun and his friends would be attending this party.

it’s not like matthew knew everything about myung jaehyun.

(unfortunately, it doesn’t help that he only has jaehyun’s schedule because he had to find a way to make you spend time with him. what doesn’t help his case any more is that he only knew of jaehyun’s attendance because he wanted to make use of this party to push you to do something.)

“i wouldn’t know.” matthew takes a sip of his drink. “and, wouldn’t hanbin know? he’s closer to myungjae than i am.”

“we should just ask him. where is he, anyway?” hanbin looks around.

“probably with y/n, or something,” ricky jokes before swaying in his spot with gyuvin. “any update on that? what’s been going on with them.”

all matthew does is shrug in response.

“guys, hear me out…” gyuvin calls on the group’s attention. “truth or dare.”

a beat passes.

“let’s go find myungjae.”

“yah! it’s my birthday.” gyuvin pouts over hao’s reaction. “don’t you guys think it’ll be fun?”

jiwoong scoffs at gyuvin’s question. “fun? the last time we played, it resulted in someone losing their clothes and me almost losing my job from a tweet you guys made.”

“i thought you hated your job, anyway.” taerae’s comment results in a scolding from jiwoong. “what?! i’m just pointing it out.”

while some were against the idea, others were onboard with gyuvin’s idea. “i’m sure it’ll be fun. let’s get myungjae and the others to join in as well,” gunwook suggests.

then, it hits matthew that this is it—this is the opportunity that he needs to push you. under the guise of a simple and fun game of truth or dare, he could maximize whatever option you choose. “i’m in.”

everyone ends up agreeing with gyuvin’s game. from there on, all matthew needs to do is grab you and jaehyun and hope that his plan moves forward. (and get his other friends to join, sure.)

matthew is lucky that he’s able to spot julie in a sea of students. while she’s busy chatting with the seniors, he realizes that you and jaehyun aren’t with her. he continues to move through the crowd. the last thing he wants is to see you too drunk to function, especially when the universe presented him with the perfect opportunity for you and jaehyun.

yet, it comes to his surprise that he sees you in the corner, whispering into the ear of your crush with your hand against his chest. the grin on jaehyun’s face is enough for matthew.

maybe you didn’t need your friend’s help. just from the distance (or the lack of it), matthew thinks you might have everything under control. that means that matthew can sit back and allow you two to unfold this romance.

but there’s a sting in matthew’s chest. he’s sure it’s not a heart attack; it should come in a form of squeezing, and the pain should spread throughout his body. yet, the one he’s experiencing is merely an ache. maybe he should hold himself back from drinking any more.

“have you found y/n?” gunwook rests his hand on matthew’s shoulder. before matthew can respond, gunwook spots you and jaehyun. “myungjae! y/n!” at his call, you two snap your attention to them. matthew can already tell how intoxicated you are from how you spin your head to his direction. “come! we’re gonna play a game.” with that, gunwook takes his leave.

matthew’s suspicions are further proven with your inability to walk straight to him. “matthew! there you are,” you giggle as your arm links with his. your hiccup brings matthew to look at jaehyun.

“how much did they have this time?”

“less than the last time, but i’d still argue quite a lot.”

while matthew and jaehyun try to find the group, you continue to latch onto matthew’s arm as you walk sluggishly. “do you not drink a lot?” matthew asks jaehyun.

the boy hums for a moment. “i do, but i think it’s better if i drink less when i’m around y/n. at least i’d be sober enough to take care of them.”

matthew has no reason to doubt jaehyun, especially with an answer like that. he knows that jaehyun would care for any of his friends; jaehyun’s always been the type to help out his friends with any task, but his choice to take that extra step tells matthew enough of his adoration for you.

“what are you guys talking about? are you talking about me?” you slur the question as you tug on matthew’s arm. “it better be good things.”

matthew can’t help but laugh.

as soon as matthew and jaehyun spot the rest of their friends gathering into a circle around a bottle, the three of you quickly find your own spots to settle into.

jaehyun takes a seat near sungho, leaving some space beside him. before matthew can go somewhere farther to sit, your grip on his arm holds him back. “hey, stay with me.” matthew’s eyes flicker between your drunken expression and jaehyun’s gaze fixed on him and you.

“you’re okay. you’ll be with myungjae.”

matthew’s confident that you would agree to sit beside jaehyun. after all, the boy took care of you for most of the night. yet, your grip never falters, and nothing could’ve prepared him for the last sentence you mumble, one only for him to hear.

“no. want you with me.”

matthew stills. the music becomes muffled and the chatter surrounding him falls silent. instead, the beating of his heart fills his ears as heat rises to his cheeks—and he doesn’t know why.

“hey! sit down!” gyuvin calls him out. with all eyes on you two, matthew doesn’t want to upset you any further. if he pushed to sit somewhere else, it would only cause a scene, and that’s the last thing he wants on his friend’s birthday. matthew finds himself sinking into a spot beside you.

the game proceeds accordingly, where most chug some more alcohol with every round that passes. secrets spill out of people’s mouths and laughter seems to fill the air. and for some reason, with all the times that’s passed, you stayed leaning against matthew.

at least you weren’t drinking along with the others.

after multiple interrogations and embarrassing dares, taerae spins the bottle. “please please please, don’t make it me again,” he prays as everyone watches the bottle go in circles.

“i’d laugh if you had to do another one,” gunwook says before taking another shot. “actually, i’m going to hope it lands on you!”

taerae tackles his friend to the ground over his comment, making him yell out complaints. yet, the universe works in taerae’s favor—and also matthew’s.

“oh my god, finally!” taerae cheers as he sees the bottle pointing at you.

you blink a couple of times. “oh, fuck me.” your head finds its spot behind your hands.

“i have been waiting for this one.” taerae rubs his hands together. “truth or dare?”

you have always been the type to choose truth. with the group’s history with dares, you weren’t the type to take that risk, which is why it comes as a surprise to everyone when you say, “fuck it, give me a dare.”

this is it. this is the opportunity that matthew needed. “i have a dare!” he beats everyone from spitting out any useless suggestion. as soon as all eyes are on him, he glances at jaehyun before saying, “i dare you to do seven minutes in heaven.”

your eyes go wide over matthew’s suggestion. “what the fuck?” you smack his arm. “no way in hell am i going to do that!”

“nu-uh! a dare is a dare,” ricky argues. “don’t try to get out of this.”

gyuvin speaks up, “if it helps, you don’t have to do anything with anyone. take this as your opportunity to bond with someone, get your heart-to-heart talk or something. but you can also make out with them, we don’t really care.” before he can take another shot, ricky stops him from doing so.

you groan at your friends’ insistence. “but with who?”

the stars are aligning for matthew. he’s about to chime in with the perfect name—

“what if we just spin the bottle again?” all hope shatters for matthew, and myung jaehyun is to blame. “that can determine who will be with y/n. it’s completely by chance.”

before matthew can interject, gyuvin claps at jaehyun’s suggestion. “you know what? you’re so fucking smart. let’s do that.” with how intoxicated the birthday boy is, no one seems to go against his idea, including you, and matthew fears what will unfold once that bottle lands on someone that isn’t jaehyun.

as soon as gyuvin reaches out to spin the bottle, matthew shuts his eyes in hopes that the universe would listen to him in the same way it did with taerae. he’s not even doing this for himself—it’s all for you. he wants you to win as much as you do with yourself. (he hopes that, at least. he needs you to believe that you have something with jaehyun as much as he does. if you didn’t, then this would go nowhere.)

“oh.”

matthew says one final prayer. he opens his eyes at the sound of gyuvin’s reaction, and what he doesn’t expect to see is the bottle pointing right at him. matthew’s convinced that the universe is going against him.

“well, lead the way, birthday boy,” jiwoong says.

matthew glances at you, expecting to see disappointment, but he only sees an expression he’s never seen before—and one he can’t decipher.

it doesn’t take a while until you and matthew are shoved into gyuvin’s walk-in closet. gunwook says they’ll keep the game going, but matthew attempts one last time to get out of this dare, only for the door to be shut right in front of his face.

as the shuffling of footsteps grow distant, matthew finally accepts defeat. he looks back to see you sitting on the floor with eyes shut. maybe you need these minutes to sober up. after all, who is the best person to take care of you if not him?

matthew finds himself on the floor with you. seven minutes could easily pass with you two; not a single word needs to be said. but tonight, time seems to stretch into an eternity. matthew hates it.

he takes in the sight of you; your shirt’s disheveled and your nose scrunches from the heat of the room and alcohol. still, most things remain the same. your arms cross with every moment your eyes long for rest and your steady heart sounds throughout the room from every exhale.

since when did matthew notice all the small things about you? it’s not like you two were friends longer than he is with hanbin. he still finds himself forgetting trivial things about his friends—with you, it comes easy.

your eyes peel open, and for the first time, matthew’s nervous around you.

“you feeling better?”

you nod before sitting up straight. “yeah, i think the alcohol is leaving my system.”

“that’s good.”

seconds go by.

“so,” matthew clears his throat, “how are you and myungjae?”

a laugh escapes you, not like the ones whenever he cracks a joke but something he’s never heard before. “we’re okay.”

matthew waits a couple of moments until he realizes you weren’t going to expound. “oh, so now, i don’t get to hear you yap about your crush?” his comment manages to earn a laugh he’s familiar with.

but it’s turned into a reality. he can’t remember the last time you actually talked to him about myung jaehyun. if anything, it’s almost like you don’t want to talk about the boy to him.

matthew’s never been the type to force you to share anything, really, but he realizes it’s been a while since you mentioned the boy’s name. it’s impossible for him to ignore that. and tonight, he can blame his curiosity on the alcohol.

“are you hiding something?”

“it’s not that.”

matthew hums. “then, what is it?

silence falls on you two.

he takes the lack of your response as a sign. to not push any further. to not be curious. to respect your privacy.

to sit back and watch it unfold.

to forget all that you’ve said on that drunken night.

“myungjae and i are just friends.” matthew’s eyes snap up to meet yours. “we’ve always been just friends.”

“but that can change. i mean, i could help you! i’ve seen how much he cares for you, i’m convinced he likes you—”

“matthew,” you cut him off, “like i said, we’re just friends.”

he frowns. “i’m confused. just because you’re friends now doesn’t mean you can’t be something more.”

your breath hitches, and his confusion deepens.

“you really think that?”

it’s at this moment that matthew spots something different about you tonight, one he’s never been on the receiving end of to experience—your glossy eyes filled with strong, bittersweet yearning.

and he holds his breath before saying, “yes.”

the bass of the music fades away. the heat of the alcohol means nothing. matthew could care less about who he came with to this party.

right now, it’s just you two.

“i don’t like myungjae.” your reveal causes matthew to frown. “i haven’t liked him for a while.”

“oh.”

you nod. “yeah.”

matthew has a million questions running through his head. what caused the change or heart? how long ago did you know that? is there something wrong with jaehyun and he never saw?

“i—”

“when—”

he shakes his head. “sorry, you go first.”

“no, it’s okay. what were you going to say?”

“it’s just… i wanted to know when you realized that.”

a chuckle leaves you. “even before hanbin’s graduation party.”

“you could’ve told me! if i had known, i wouldn’t have kept pushing you to do something with myungjae.” matthew hides his mouth in embarrassment.

you shake your head. “it’s okay. i didn’t tell you because…”

matthew notices your fingers fiddling with each other, an unconscious habit of yours whenever you’re anxious, and his confusion grows.

he doesn’t want you to think he can’t be trusted with your secrets, your stories, everything about you. after all, he wants to be your friend—your person—and how can he do that if you felt an ounce of shame to tell him that? he needed to let you know that—

“i like you.”

time stills for a moment.

for once, matthew doesn’t know what to say.

“time’s up!” the door swings open, revealing gunwook and taerae whose grins are lopsided. “did y’all enjoy the heart-to-heart?” gunwook’s question is an innocent, light-hearted one, but the silence hanging between you two is nothing of the sort.

before matthew knows it, you let out a giggle. “of course!” in your attempt to stand up, you almost lose your footing, causing taerae to reach out to you. “sorry. i don’t know why but i feel a lot drunker than before.”

your slurred words only makes taerae shake his head. “oh, my silly lil alcoholic. let’s keep it going!”

the three of you exit in high spirits. yet, matthew finds himself stuck in his spot.

stuck in his memories.

stuck in the last conversation.

stuck in your words.

stuck in denial.

“yah, matthew! hurry up! we’re still playing,” gyuvin shouts from outside of the room.

because you’re drunk. you probably didn’t mean anything you said, like how you didn’t mean what you said at the last party.

for the rest of the night, you continue to enjoy gyuvin’s birthday.

matthew attempts to do the same.

it’s been two months since that conversation. on the morning after the party, you admit to the group that you lost recollection of the events that transpired on gyuvin’s birthday. with how much the birthday boy drank, he found himself in the same boat as you. taerae says that it’s only best that you don’t remember anything from that night, mainly to save his pride.

but matthew remembers it all. he remembers how you looked at him that night, how your breath hitched, how long the silence was all before you lied.

and he knows you lied.

all it took was one sight of you on a date with jaehyun for him to realize that.

matthew couldn’t believe he showed up to the halloween party, not because he wasn’t the type to deny an invite, but because it’s being hosted by jaehyun.

he has nothing against him, really, but the conversation in the closet shifted everything; his dynamic with the boy, his thoughts surrounding your relationship with jaehyun, his feelings towards you. matthew prefers to keep his distance out of respect for you two.

that doesn’t mean he won’t talk about it with others.

“i really don’t think they’re together.”

“hanbin, did you completely forget what i said?” matthew shakes his head. “they were on a date.”

he finds himself in the kitchen dressed as saiki k with an almost-finished bottle of soju in his hand. while the rest of his friends were off somewhere, hanbin and hao, who were dressed in stitch and angel onesies, stayed with him.

hao takes a sip of his drink. “how’d you know it was a date? they could’ve been hanging out for all you know.”

“well…”

“see! you can’t even defend your point.”

matthew groans. “that doesn’t change anything. i’m sure of it. i mean, they came in a couples costume!”

“they’re matching with sungho, you airhead,” hao points out.

hanbin laughs before adding, “as the incredibles, too!”

their doubtful reactions causes matthew to roll his eyes. he chugs the remaining contents of his bottle before grabbing himself another. “i thought i could trust you two.”

“and you can!” hanbin tries to snatch the bottle but fails. “dammit. just be responsible, okay? it’s already hard enough dealing with jiwoong and taerae when they’re drunk.”

hao sighs. “and you know, jiwoong’s drinking heavy tonight because he got laid off. hoping ricky can help him out.” matthew twists the cap open and drinks straight from the bottle once more. “hey, i’m still saying you should trust what we’re saying. whatever y/n shared in that closet might not be a lie.”

despite their attempts to convince matthew, he knows the truth. there’s no point in trying to prove him otherwise. so for now, he’ll drink the night away.

“i’ll see you guys later, or something.”

“matthew—”

he doesn’t spare a second to hear their protests. as much as he loves his friends, he needs some space to wallow in silence. all he longs for is a quiet space away from everyone with enough alcohol to forget everything.

“matthew!”

this is the last voice he wanted to hear, especially at his state. he sees jaehyun and sungho together dressed in black and red.

“oh my god, you’re matching with riwoo! you’re saiki k, right?” sungho asks.

matthew forces out a smile before nodding. “yeah. incredibles?” he points at the logo on their chests.

“yep! you should take a pic with riwoo!” jaehyun suggests

matthew would’ve agreed any other day, but he couldn’t talk to him. he didn’t want to ruin his relationship with the boy just because of his emotions. “myungjae, i would love to, but i have to go.”

“are you okay?”

when concern paints jaehyun’s features, matthew is reminded once more that there is nothing to hate about him. he needs to get over this whole thing. if you’re happy with jaehyun, he should learn how to be happy for you, too.

a sigh leaves matthew. “yes, sorry. i just need space, if that’s okay.”

“of course. i hope you’re okay. do you want me to bring you to a spot where it’s quiet?”

matthew shakes his head before reassuring the host, “it’s okay, i’ll figure it out on my own.” and with one final nod from jaehyun, matthew walks off.

he passes through the crowd, exchanging brief greetings with familiar faces, until he reaches a hall filled with doors. most rooms were already occupied, and the last thing matthew wants is to know what they’re doing. all he cares about is finding an unoccupied room where he can drink the night, the confusion, the pain, away.

once he reaches the final door, he quietly begs the universe to give him what he needs. as he swings the door open, he notices that the lights are off, and that’s enough for him to believe it’s unoccupied. without sparing a second thought, he shuts the door behind him before letting out a sigh.

it takes him a few seconds for his vision to adjust. with the moonlight cascading over the walls, he’s able to take in his surroundings. as soon as he spots a shelf filled with poetry books, he realizes he’s in jaehyun’s room. matthew couldn’t believe what the universe is making him undergo. he found himself in the bedroom of someone he desperately needed to get away from, but he’ll make do with the last unoccupied space—or that’s what he thought.

“matthew?”

“holy shit!” he jumps along with his heart. as he clenches his chest, his eyes dart to the source of the voice—only to see his friend, his supposed something. your chin rests on jaehyun’s mattress as you stare at him; the same, glossy eyes he witnessed in the closet. matthew clears his throat before standing up straight. “sorry, i thought i was alone.”

you shoot him a tight-lipped smile. “no, sorry i didn’t say anything as soon as you came in.”

a beat passes.

“why… uhm, why are you sitting in the dark?” his chest throbs as he asks the question.

what if you were there to meet with jaehyun later in the night? or what if you had already met with him? maybe he doesn’t want to know the reason after all.

“needed to be somewhere quiet,” you answer. he watches you take a sip from a big bottle of vodka. “somewhere away from the party.”

if you need space, matthew is going to give you that. after all, you were in this room before he arrived. “okay, i’ll go leave,” he says as he turns his back on you.

“no, it’s ok—”

“it’s okay. you were here first, so—”

“matthew.”

how your voice wavers is enough to stop him. from leaving the room. from wallowing in pain.

from abandoning you.

he looks back, only to be greeted by the sight of you in tears. the moonlight shines against your figure, making you glow in the dark room, and he feels all resolve crumble.

matthew rushes to you. as he takes a seat beside you, he sets the bottle on the floor before his hands reach out to cup your face. “what’s wrong?” he asks as his thumbs wipe the tears.

you don’t spare him an answer; all you do is stare right back at him as the tears stream down your face.

matthew think’s he fucked up. was he busy with his issues to notice yours? did you need him? (as much as he needs you?)

yet, as soon as your hand reaches up to hold his, he realizes that this is all wrong; the distance, the physical touch, everything about this doesn’t respect what you have with jaehyun.

“i’m sorry.” he rips his hands away. “i shouldn’t have done that.”

his apology brings another flood of tears from you. “i thought we were friends.”

“we are friends.”

“then, if we’re friends, why couldn’t you give me an answer back then?”

matthew’s heart stills. “w–what?”

“i remember everything.”

the axis of his world tilts.

“from the bathroom to the closet,” you sniffle, “i remember what i said, and i meant everything.”

all he knew then meant nothing to the present.

matthew can’t tell if the alcohol was affecting his senses. maybe he’s hallucinating, or his intoxicated mind is planting delusions that he wishes were part of his reality.

but he blinks hard, and he still sees you.

“please say something.”

matthew takes one breath. “i just… i don’t understand. i mean, i’ve been going like, 5 months, thinking those were meaningless words. even in the closet, you said you were too drunk. and you always claimed you had no memory the next day. i even thought you were on a date with jaehyun the other day.” as you scrunch your eyebrows at his admission, he takes it as a sign to explain. “i don’t know. i saw you two alone a few weeks ago, and i just assumed so.”

“we were just hanging out. there’s nothing going on between us.”

he shakes his head. “well, how am i supposed to know that? when i’ve been going through these months thinking all you said was bullshit until now?”

when guilt flashes in your features, he takes a moment to let his words sink in.

he watches you fiddle with your fingers before saying, “i just want to know why you did all that.”

“is it enough to say that i was scared? i mean, i used the alcohol as liquid courage. but in both times, i couldn’t tell if you felt the same, so, i panicked and said i don’t remember anything.”

one thing that matthew knows about you is that you were afraid to take risks—no, not in decision making but in relationships. he knew that the first time you held yourself back from introducing yourself to jaehyun, and he remembers when you finally approached the boy with at least 5 shots into the night.

“can you say something? anything?” you ask.

and all times, he understood your hesitancy. every time you second guess yourself, he’s the only person who knows when to act as your safe space or a pushing force.

“tell me again. tell me what you told me in the closet, i need to hear it from you.” but when your mouth parts open, ready to repeat the three-word phrase, he cuts you off. “when we’re sober.”

this time, he wants to know if he’s a risk worth taking—without the alcohol.

“tell me when morning comes, then you’ll know.” he sees confusion flicker in your eyes. “because i can’t risk anything when we’ve drunk our hearts out tonight.”

if there’s another thing matthew knows about you, it’s that you hate unfinished conversations. yet, a nod from you is enough for him to know why it would have to wait until tomorrow.

from there, matthew stands up before taking his leave.

all he can hope is that you won’t forget the next day.

when morning comes, matthew can hear a knocking on his door. he makes his way to the doorway, rubbing the exhaustion off his eyes, before swinging it open.

“i like you.”

his eyes snap open to see you, whose eyes aren’t like the other nights but with something he’s familiar with—hope.

“i like you,” you repeat, “and i’m telling it to you now, without the alcohol.”

this time, matthew doesn’t have to doubt your words. he doesn’t have to shut down his friends’ attempts to comfort him. he doesn’t have to deny what he feels towards you.

without saying anything, his hands dart towards your waist before pulling you close to him. shock casts onto your features. as one thumb finds its way under your shirt, etching constellations that you two will only know of, his other hand reaches to tuck your hair.

his lips meet yours. as his hand travels down to caress your face, your arms slowly find their place around his neck. somehow, everything feels right, almost like you two had done this before. yet, the taste of your lips is one he’s never had. as your nose brushes against his, he can’t help but breathe you in like you’re the last thing keeping him alive.

as you attempt to pull back, he tries to chase your lips. “matthew,” you call out his name before he draws you back in for another intoxicating kiss, one where the buzz of alcohol could never compare to.

“don’t,” he mumbles in between, “let me have this.” he pulls you into his dorm with ease and shuts the door behind you. matthew pushes you against the door with his lips still on yours, hands exploring your figure.

from there, you don’t protest.

maybe he’s wanted you much longer than you did. maybe he’s wanted you ever since you revealed your crush on jaehyun and he never allowed himself to dwell on his own feelings. maybe he’s wanted you since the first time he’s ever set eyes on you.

but one thing he knows is that he wants you—much more than you do with him.

(and he’d never allow you to think he wants you any less.)

networks taglist: @kflixnet @k-labels @blankjournal @zumblrnet @kstrucknet

zb1 permanent tag list: @deinsleeps

story taglist: @seokkiez @loserlvrss @itaerae

@blandtako @gong-fourz @rentenwins @pandagirl753

#works of moni #kflixnet #bjnet #k-labels #kstrucknet #zerobaseone #zb1 #zb1 x reader #zb1 imagines #zb1 fluff #seok matthew #seok matthew x reader #seok matthew imagines #matthew x reader #zb1 angst #seok matthew angst #seok matthew fluff #zb1 crack #seok matthew crack

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jetii · 4 months ago

Text

Playing Pretend

Pairing: Wrecker x Twi'Lek fem!Reader

Words: 16,373

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! fake married, (not) unrequited feelings, Wrecker yearning x1000, some negative self talk, big "get your hands off my wife!" energy, some minor jealousy, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink obviously, light dom!Reader

Summary: The mission is simple: infiltrate a lavish party, plant a bug, and get out. The only problem: Wrecker has to pretend to be married to you, and he's not so sure he can hide how much he likes it.

A/N: Happy Wrecker Wednesday! This is definitely the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written, down to the nonhuman reader bc I'm getting a little bored with humans. With this, we've officially reached the end of the fics I wrote before creating this account, and we're going out with a bang (literally).

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This mission is going to be a disaster.

It's not that Wrecker doesn’t trust you, quite the opposite. You’re quiet, quick, and resourceful, and you’re one of the smartest people he’s ever met. You're built for infiltration, for gathering intel, and as far as the Batch is concerned, you have yet to fail a mission. So no, there’s no doubt in his mind you're the perfect spy.

It’s his own ability that gives him pause.

Hunter, Echo, hell, even Tech would’ve been a better pick for any sort of espionage mission over him. When Hunter informed them Wrecker was the one that was going with you, Wrecker laughed. A full belly laugh that brought tears to his eyes and left his face aching, because the very idea of him sneaking around, being stealthy, well, it was ridiculous.

It was so ridiculous he was sure Hunter had meant it as a joke, but when he saw the serious look on his face, the one that told him his brother meant business, Wrecker began to sweat. He hasn’t really stopped since.

Lying and pretending are two things he’s truly terrible at, coupled with the fact that he’ll be alone with you, playing pretend with you, and he‘s been on edge ever since.

It doesn't help that Cid insisted the only way you could get close to the target is by posing as a married couple. One that are newlyweds, at that.

Wrecker knows this is a job, just a job, but it's still you.

He's still going to be touching you, and not because you need him to, or you want him to, but because the job requires it. And the whole thing just has him feeling weird. He knows you can fake being a couple, but he's not sure if he can.

As much as Wrecker hates lying and pretending, he really doesn't hate you. If he's being honest, he probably likes you too much. So that's why, when Hunter told him about the mission, and then later asked if he was alright with the details, Wrecker had said yes.

The look Hunter gave him told him that he didn't quite believe him, and Wrecker wasn't even sure he believed himself. After all, it's no secret he doesn't have the greatest poker face. He doesn't like lying, especially to his brothers. But he also doesn't like disappointing them, or disappointing you, and he's willing to do just about anything to make sure you're safe.

The rest of the night before the mission was spent planning and strategizing, which meant he didn't see much of you. He wanted to check in and make sure you were feeling good about the plan, but he never got the chance.

Now, here he is, in a small, nondescript hotel room with you, the rest of the squad holed up in the Marauder and waiting on your signal. The room itself is nice, but small, and there's only one bed. He’d felt his nerves spike when he first saw it, but he forced himself to relax. If everything goes according to plan, you won't be sleeping in it.

There are other things he's more worried about, anyway. Like how he's going to pull this off, and how he's going to manage not to fuck up, and most importantly, how he's going to manage spending the entire mission trying not to get too wrapped up in you.

That last part is the hardest.

He's sitting on the bed, the holomap spread out on the small table beside it. Your target is a small-time gangster, and he’s having a party at his penthouse tonight, so it's the perfect opportunity to sneak in. All you have to do is go through the party, find the main office, plant a few bugs, and then get out.

Easy peasy.

At least, that's what Tech said.

Well, he said a lot more than that, but Wrecker had kind of zoned out around the time Tech started talking about security cameras and frequencies.

What he does know is the bugs need to be placed somewhere in the office, and the two of you will have to blend in and seem as natural as possible until you can make your way there. Easy for you, but Wrecker knows he'll stick out like a sore thumb, even if he isn't in his armor.

“You alright, big guy?”

Wrecker nearly jumps at the sound of your voice, heart in his throat as he feels your hand gently grab his arm. He tenses underneath your touch.

He can’t remember the last time you touched him, or even the last time the two of you were alone together. Probably because it hasn’t happened. He thinks he would remember if it had, because it feels electrifying. Your manicured hand, complete with a wedding ring, slides against the fabric of his suit. It takes everything in him not to shiver.

Then he turns to face you fully, and his eyes nearly fall out of his head.

No, he’s not alright.

You look absolutely stunning.

It's not like you don't look stunning every day, you do, and even when you're in armor, or covered in dirt and grime, Wrecker thinks you're beautiful. But this...this is something else. It's not fair.

You’ve shared a bit about Ryloth during your time together, and you’d mentioned that ever since you left the hot planet, you felt cold. He’s never seen you without a jacket except that one time you’d been shot in your shoulder, and even then, he was more focused on keeping pressure on the wound and getting you to safety than on what you were wearing.

But right now, he can't focus on anything else.

He, embarrassingly, tends to ogle whenever any inch of your vibrant skin is on display. He walked straight into a wall the time you stretched in front of him, and your shirt rode up to reveal a hint of the curve of your stomach. When he saw your legs in a dress at 79s, he shattered his glass. He couldn’t help it. That was one of the first times he realized he had a problem, but it certainly wasn't the last.

You're just...so much, all the time, and you don't even realize it. He's gotten better at being discrete, or at least, he's better at hiding his reactions.

But this is so, so much.

Made of some fancy shimmering black fabric, the top of the dress left nearly your entire chest exposed along with your arms. With two thin straps to hold it up, he doesn't know how it's staying in place, but he's sure if he looks hard enough, he'll find out.

A deep cut runs down the middle of the dress, starting right under your clavicle and ending in a point just below your stomach. It's long, coming all the way down to your feet and flaring out, and there are two slits up either side of the dress, exposing your thighs as you move.

There's no denying it, the dress is tight, and Wrecker is trying so hard not to look, honestly, but it's like his eyes are glued to your body.

You mentioned you would have a weapon on you just in case, but looking over you now — admiring the way the expensive fabric clung to every curve of you — he struggles to imagine where it could be.

He swallows. Hard.

The hand on his arm lets go to reach up and hold one of your lek, shifting it so both were draped over one shoulder. You’d gone all out with decorating them as well. Sparkling straps of black crisscrossed up to a velvet headpiece that takes the place of your usual bandana, all coming to a point high on your forehead, where a deep blue jewel sits at your crown. It shifts slightly with the raise of your eyebrows, and he realizes he's been staring, and he’s still not saying anything.

Wrecker forces out the first words on his mind.

“Wow! You look—wow..."

You give him a small smile, a hint of color darkening your cheeks, and his heart thuds in his chest. He wants to make you blush all the time.

He reaches out and grabs your hand, lifting it above your head with ease. Wrecker turns you into a spin, and he’s rewarded with your cute laugh and the sound of the dress swishing as you spin. And then he sees your back, entirely exposed all the way down to the dimples at the base of your spine, just above the curve of your ass.

Holy shit.

He has to look away, letting go of your hand to rub the back of his neck, feeling a little light-headed. This is already not going well.

“You clean up well yourself, handsome,” you say between a laugh, and he blushes more than he already is.

Wrecker doesn't consider himself all that good-looking, especially compared to his brothers, but you've told him once or twice he's not hard on the eyes. You've also told him he has a nice smile, which had him grinning like an idiot for a solid day. He's still smiling now, because hearing you call him handsome makes his heart pound in his chest.

Still, he's not used to all the compliments. It's a lot, especially when they come from you.

"Tech and Echo did the best they could, I guess," Wrecker shrugs. The motion stretches the threads of his dark suit, and he grimaces. It's itchy, and too tight, and he hates it. He doesn't get how people wear these things all the time. "Not really used to the fancy stuff."

You tilt your head, looking him over. He resists the urge to squirm.

“C’mere," you tell him, beckoning him with your hand.

Wrecker does as he's told, and your hands grab his tie. The feeling of you tugging him closer by the silk sends a rush of heat through his veins, and he can’t help but grin down at you as he watches you adjust it for him.

Your mouth is pursed, nose wrinkling slightly as you concentrate on getting it just right, even though you both know he'll likely mess it up in a matter of minutes anyway. You’re so cute, and you're so close, and it would be so easy for him to lean in and kiss you.

He's thought about it a lot, and he's almost done it once or twice, but then you'd pull back, or one of his brothers or Omega would come into the room, and the moment would be gone. It was probably for the best, considering he doesn't even know how you feel about him.

“Thanks," he mumbles.

You're still standing close, your chest practically touching his.

"Of course." The words are soft, and they leave him feeling hotter than ever.

He looks away from you, and catches sight of the two of you in the mirror. Wrecker has always been a bit of a sucker for a good romance, and this? This is right out of one of his favorite holovids. You're both dressed in the finest clothes, him in a suit, you in a gorgeous dress, and it's just the two of you against the world.

Except, this isn't real.

There isn't any grand romance, and the feelings that threaten to burst from his chest are his and his alone.

“You really do look beautiful," he says, his voice a little rough, but honest.

You meet his eyes in the mirror. He watches as the corner of your lips quirk up, and you look almost shy. It's adorable, and a little confusing, because usually, you're not so modest. He wonders what changed.

"I—thank you, Wrecker."

"And I'll keep sayin' it till you believe me," he adds, because it's true.

"Oh, I believe you," you laugh, and the sound warms him to the core.

"Yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah."

"Good. 'Cause you really do. You look—" Wrecker swallows, and then shakes his head. He's getting distracted, and it's not good, not when the two of you have a job to do.

"So do you."

You give his tie one last tug, and then take a step back. Your hands smooth down the front of your dress as you look down at your shoes. He can't tell, but he swears you look almost bashful. It's so unlike you that he wonders if you're actually okay.

"You sure you're good?" he asks, concerned.

You hum an affirmative, and then you mutter, “Just already looking forward to taking this off."

The words are mumbled, barely audible, and he doesn't think you intended for him to hear. Wrecker blinks, and his gaze travels down the length of your body, and his mouth goes dry. His mind can't help but wander. It would be so easy for him to reach out, hook his fingers in the thin straps holding your dress up, and just...

"Yeah, me too," Wrecker admits quietly, the words falling from his mouth without thought.

A second passes. Two.

Wrecker's brain catches up to his mouth. He sees the shift of your jaw and the bob of your throat, and he wishes the ground would swallow him up.

"Uh, yeah, I mean," Wrecker starts, trying to backtrack and failing, "because I hate this thing, and it's not very comfortable."

It's not the worst lie he's told, but it's pretty far up there. Still, the look of relief that crosses your face tells him you believe it. Your arms are crossed over your chest, holding yourself in a way that suggests you feel vulnerable, and the realization makes his gut twist.

Wrecker doesn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, and he feels terrible that he has. He didn't even realize that the dress, and the mission, could bother you. You always seemed so put together, and confident, and not bothered by much, that he just assumed you would be okay. But, you're not, and now he feels bad, and stupid.

"We don't have to do this," Wrecker offers, rubbing the back of his neck.

You shake your head, and he can see you forcing yourself to relax. "I can handle a few hours."

Wrecker isn't sure what to say. He knows you're capable, and he doesn't think you would offer if you didn't think you could do it, but the way you're standing makes him wonder.

"But you know if you don't wanna, that's fine too," he adds, because it is.

Hunter would probably give him an earful later, but you were the priority, and Wrecker would deal with whatever punishment was necessary to make sure you were safe and comfortable. He doubted Hunter would be mad, anyway. They're family, and family looked out for each other, and you were part of the team, too.

You look at him, and then down at the floor, and then back up at him.

"It's fine."

Wrecker bites his tongue, but only barely.

You're not fine, and he can tell, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why. There's a reason you've always been the one chosen for missions like this, even back when you were still an intelligence officer and he was barely more than a shiny. It's not just because of your training and experience, but also because of the way you look.

The thought makes him angry. It isn't right, and he hates that you've been forced into this position. Until tonight, he'd held out some misguided hope that you wouldn't ever have to be put in a situation like this again.

He knows you can handle a lot more than most, but you shouldn't have to.

"Really, Wrecker, I'm fine," you say again, and it's only then that he realizes he's been staring at you.

"Are you sure? ‘Cause if—"

You step forward, putting a hand on his chest and looking up at him. His eyes catch on the shine of your lips, and the warmth of your hand against his chest makes his heart race.

"If you keep asking me, I'm gonna start to think you don't want to be my husband," you tease.

"I'd love to be your husband," Wrecker replies without missing a beat, and he means it.

The words are true, even if the context isn't. It's the closest thing he'll get to a wedding with you, and that thought makes him want to scream. Instead, he settles on smiling, even as his heart races and his palms sweat.

"I'm sorry, I just don't wanna make you feel—"

"I'm kidding, ma sareen," you say, shaking your head, "I know. But really, it's okay."

He gives a slow nod, not sure how to respond. You've called him that before, and while he doesn't speak Ryl, he does know it's a term of endearment. One that he's overhead Suu say to Cut a few times, and one that you've used with him, and only him.

Every time, it makes him smile. But it's one thing for you to say it casually, and another entirely to say it in front of strangers, pretending to be married to him. He doesn't know why the thought makes his heart pound in his chest, or his ears grow warm.

"And hey, at least I have someone who can protect me, right?"

He grins proudly, and nods. That, he can do.

"You got that right."

"Then what's there to worry about?" you ask, a smile on your face.

That I might embarrass you, is what Wrecker wants to say, but doesn't. Instead, he follows you towards the door. You pause just before stepping through, looking up at him expectantly. He doesn't quite understand until you reach out and hold your hand palm up.

"Well?"

"What?"

"Give me your hand, Wrecker," you laugh.

"Oh, right," Wrecker stutters, slipping his hand into yours.

His hands are rough and calloused from years of fighting, but your hand is soft and gentle, and he tries his best not to squeeze too hard. You lead him out of the room and to the lift. You lean against him, your head resting on his shoulder, and his breath catches in his throat.

"Relax, big guy, you've got this," you whisper, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Wrecker hopes you're right.

He's not sure how long the two of you have been here. An hour? Maybe two?

Whatever it is, it's long enough that his face hurts from fake smiling. His shoulders are tense, and he keeps a steady hand on your lower back, not willing to let go.

As soon as the two of you had walked through the door, the guards had taken your weapons, and it had been the first time Wrecker had felt truly unsettled since leaving the ship. Not only was he unarmed, but now, you were as well, and he was responsible for keeping you safe. They'd even taken the knife you'd tucked into the holster on your thigh.

They'd also frisked you, and while it wasn't the first time, or even the first time for him, it was the first time he'd seen it done like that. The guard had run his hands up the inside of your thigh, his thumb dangerously close to places he never should've been touching, and Wrecker had seen red.

The man was lucky all Wrecker did was grab his wrist and pull it away, his grip tight enough to bruise. The guard had stumbled, his face red as he tried and failed to apologize. It didn't matter to him. The bastard wouldn't be able to use that hand for a while, and Wrecker hadn't felt bad at all.

After, he'd wrapped his arm around your waist and held you close. He knows he probably shouldn't have, but he needed the reminder that you were safe. He could pretend it was just for show, but really, it was to comfort himself.

It doesn't help that every eye in the room has been on the two of you since you arrived, and while the stares are likely directed at you, Wrecker still doesn't like it. It makes his blood boil, and his skin crawl, and all he wants to do is get out of here. He hates how uncomfortable and vulnerable it makes him feel, and the fact that it's affecting him at all is embarrassing.

You seem to be doing just fine, chatting with various people, laughing and smiling and, unfortunately, flirting.

Not with him, no. With all the men and women around you.

It's the nature of the job, he knows that, but it still sucks.

You're doing your best to blend in, and it's working. He just tries his best to keep up with you. He doesn't trust any of these people, not even for a second, and the tension in his shoulders doesn't ease, no matter how hard he tries.

This is the first time he's been in a party like this, and he doesn't think he likes it.

When Tech had said the target was having a party, he'd expected loud music, maybe some dancing. What he got was an old-fashioned cocktail party, the type he's only ever seen in holovids, and the kind where the rich and powerful mingle and talk about politics and money.

It's boring, and the people are rude, and the lights of the chandelier make his eye twitch. But worst of all, no one can take their eyes off you, and he can't blame them. Even after the initial shock of seeing you dressed like that has passed, his eyes can't help but trail down the length of your body. And while you're definitely the most beautiful person in the room, he thinks there's a part of him that doesn't want anyone else to see you.

At least there's good food. And drink. And while he would never dare touch you without permission, it's nice to know he can do so now.

So he's taken every opportunity to do just that, to let everyone around know that you're his. He's kept his hand on the small of your back, the curve of your hip, the bend of your waist, and he's made sure to be close to you at all times. You don't seem to mind, which is the best part, and it makes his chest swell with pride.

Your arm is tucked around his, your fingers laced with his own, and he loves the way you lean into him, like you need him, like he's a safe place for you. He doesn't know if you do, but it doesn't stop him from wishing.

Wrecker looks at the ring on his finger. It's a simple gold band, nothing fancy, and it reminds him that this isn't real. It's just for the job, and he has to keep reminding himself of that. Because if he doesn't, it'll be easy for him to lose sight of that. And if he loses sight, he might do something stupid, like kiss you, and he's not sure if he'd be able to stop.

"So, where did you two meet?"

Wrecker tears his gaze away from you and to the Twi'lek across from him, her blue lekku adorned with jewels. He has no idea who she is, but the two of you are getting along so well he doesn't want to interrupt. You're the only Twi'leks in the room, and he thinks that might be the only reason the two of you are talking at all.

"Oh, it's a little embarrassing, actually," you answer, a shy smile on your face.

You squeeze his hand and glance up at him, and his stomach flutters.

"Not really," he mumbles, cheeks warm.

"You don't think so, but I might," you giggle, and Wrecker can't help the way his mouth quirks up in a smile. He wants to kiss your forehead, or your cheek, or your lips, but he doesn't.

The Twi'lek woman laughs and sips her drink, leaning in close to listen.

"C'mon, tell me, I'm dying to know."

Wrecker's not sure what story you've told everyone else, so he's not sure if this is part of it, but the way you look up at him makes his heart skip a beat. You squeeze his hand again, and he wonders if it's supposed to be a sign. It's a little distracting.

"Well, um, we met when he saved my life."

Wrecker nearly chokes on his drink.

The Twi'lek raises a brow, glancing between the two of you. "Really?"

"Mhm."

"That's not embarrassing."

"Yes, it is. Because he saved my life, and instead of being grateful, I called him an idiot," you tell her, a blush rising to your cheeks.

It's the truth. When you were still an officer, your unit was under fire. You'd been separated from your squad, pinned down, and Wrecker had found you. He'd pulled you from your hiding spot and out of the way, and the two of you had barely escaped unscathed. But the first words you'd said to him were, 'You idiot, you almost shot me.'

In his defense, he was a little distracted at the time.

"What did you say to that?"

Wrecker shrugs, taking a sip of his drink. "Not much."

You look up at him, your eyes shining. "I mean, he did save my life, so I apologized, obviously."

"Obviously," the woman nods.

"And, um, well," you stumble, and Wrecker wonders what's making you so nervous. It's not like you to be caught off guard, but you seem almost embarrassed. "He's the kindest man I've ever met, and I was immediately charmed by him."

Wrecker can't hide the surprise that crosses his face, but he does his best.

"It was hard not to fall for him," you admit, a softness in your voice that wasn't there before, "and, well, here we are."

Your gaze meets his, and the tenderness in your eyes takes his breath away.

"So romantic," the woman sighs, and you nod in agreement.

"Yeah, it's...it's somethin'," Wrecker says quietly, his chest tight.

He doesn't think anyone's ever talked about him like that, let alone in front of a bunch of strangers.

You lean into him, a soft smile on your face. Wrecker's hand slides from your waist to rest on the small of your back, and his eyes linger on the curve of your lip, the slight shimmer on your cheek. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and your eyes drop down to watch the motion, and his heart thuds against his ribcage.

He can't help but wonder if maybe there's some truth to what you're saying. It's not like you've been lying the entire time, and Wrecker isn't naïve. He knows this is all part of the act, but the way you're looking at him makes him feel like you might mean it.

Wrecker can't help the way his mind wanders, or the way his stomach flutters when your lips brush his ear as you whisper, "You alright, darling?"

His breath hitches in his throat, and it's hard not to shudder as you trail a finger up his arm.

"Yeah, m'fine," he manages, the words shaky.

Your lips brush the shell of his ear, and he has to fight the urge to groan.

"We've got company," you whisper.

Wrecker tenses, scanning the room. It takes a moment for him to realize you mean the target. He's making his way through the crowd, and it's only a matter of moments before he's approaching.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kasta," he greets, an air of confidence in his voice, "welcome."

Wrecker nods at him, keeping his mouth shut. He doesn't trust himself not to say something stupid. He's already fucked up a few times tonight, and he doesn't want to embarrass himself. Besides, you're already taking the lead, smiling brightly at the man.

"Thank you for having us, Mr. Dralig," you tell him, giving a slight bow.

"Please, call me Bohme," he insists, returning the gesture. "Always a pleasure to meet such an esteemed couple as yourselves. You look ravishing, Mrs. Kasta."

You blush, and Wrecker fights the urge to roll his eyes. You are the most stunning woman in the room, and he can't imagine how this asshole could think otherwise, but the compliment still makes him bristle. He can't understand why you don't seem more annoyed.

"Well, thank you," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice.

"I do hope you're enjoying yourselves," Bohme continues, "the food, the music, the view."

The man's eyes linger on you for a moment too long, and Wrecker doesn't have to be a genius to figure out what he means.

"Oh, yes, very much so," you reply easily, ignoring the implication, "thank you."

Bohme nods, and then turns his attention to Wrecker, giving him a quick once-over. Wrecker tenses. The man is short and thin, his features pinched and pale, but his eyes are sharp, and his mouth is curved up in a smile that's almost predatory.

"I must say, I was a little surprised when I learned the Kastas would be joining us tonight. I was told they were unable to make it."

Wrecker narrows his eyes, watching the man carefully.

"Yes, well, our schedules opened up, and my husband was able to move some things around. It's rare we get a night off, so I jumped at the chance," you tell him, reaching out to grab Wrecker's arm and squeeze it.

He's glad you're playing the part so well. It's definitely not something he's capable of, and he can't help but feel a little useless. But he can at least make sure you're not alone, and that this guy keeps his hands off you.

"Well, I'm glad you could make it."

"We're glad we could too. The party's been wonderful."

"Glad to hear it."

Wrecker shifts slightly, feeling the weight of the man's gaze. There's something unsettling about him, and Wrecker's never been able to hide his disdain for the people they're forced to work for. But Bohme's the mark, and so he tries his best not to stare, but he's never been good at playing nice.

"If I'm being honest, I thought the rumors were exaggerated."

Wrecker frowns, and you look a little surprised.

"Oh?"

"I see the scars aren't," Bohme adds, gesturing to Wrecker's face.

Wrecker doesn't reply, only glares. The scars have never bothered him, not really. Sure, sometimes people stare, or ask him about them, and sometimes that's more than a little awkward. But he doesn't hate them. He mostly just forgets they're there until he gets one of the phantom pains, or someone points them out.

This man, though, he's staring, and not with curiosity, but with judgement, and it makes Wrecker’s skin crawl. He clenches his jaw, looking for the words to tell him off that won’t make the entire operation fail, but thankfully, you're quicker than him.

"No, but I quite like them," you say, reaching up and brushing a hand over his scarred cheek.

Wrecker swallows, his head tilting down to meet your gaze. Your touch is gentle, your thumb brushing under his eye, and he watches as your eyes shift from cold fury to something warmer, kinder.

"They remind me of just how brave and selfless my husband is," you tell him, the words soft, almost as if they're just for him.

Wrecker blinks, his lips parting. He wants to respond, but his throat is dry, and he's not sure what he would say even if he could.

"And I would be lost without him," you add, your fingers sliding across his jaw.

He knows this isn't real, that it's just for show, and he's just a means to an end, but he can't help the way his heart races in his chest. Because the way you're looking at him isn't fake, and neither are your words. He doesn't know how he's so sure, but he is.

He can't find his voice, and he doesn't trust himself to speak, so instead, he takes your hand and presses his lips to the inside of your wrist. You gasp, and your mouth parts, and he's so focused on the warmth of your skin and the way you blush that he barely registers the sound of Bohme's laughter.

"Oh, to be young and in love."

Wrecker doesn't pay attention to the rest of the conversation. He doesn't care. All he can focus on is you. The way you look up at him, and the softness in your eyes. The way you're pressed against him, and the way his arm is wrapped around you, and the way it feels like you belong there.

You've always felt right in his arms, like you fit perfectly, and every time you touch him, he wonders if it's the last. That's how it is now. Like it could end at any moment. So, he's memorizing everything, every detail, the feel of your skin, the sound of your voice, the scent of your perfume.

Because when this is all over, he'll never be close to you like this again, and he'll never forget it.

"Ma sareen."

He snaps out of his trance at the sound of your voice. "Hmm?"

"Could you be a dear and get me a drink?"

"Sure thing, sweetheart."

Wrecker leans in, pressing his lips to your temple, and he relishes the way your cheeks turn red and the sound of your breath hitching in your throat. He doesn't know what he's doing. All he knows is that it's worth it to see the look on your face, and the way Bohme looks like he's swallowed a lemon.

He gives your waist a gentle squeeze and turns, making his way through the crowd to the bar. It's the furthest place from the door, and the longest walk of his life, because his head is swimming, and his heart is pounding, and it’s giving him too much time to think.

And when he does, all he can think about is you. He's not blind. He can see the way you've been looking at him tonight, and the way you're touching him. It's driving him crazy, and the more time he spends here with you, the harder it is to convince himself that you don't feel the same.

Maybe you do feel the same, and he's just been missing the signs, too afraid to see them. Maybe he should do something about it.

The thought is scary. What if he does, and he's wrong?

But then he remembers the way your fingers slid across his cheek, the way you leaned into his side, and the way you blush whenever he calls you sweetheart. It's enough to give him hope.

"What can I get for you?" the bartender asks.

Wrecker blinks, glancing down at him. He'd forgotten why he was here, and his cheeks warm as he fumbles for an answer. Champagne seems like the right call for you. You'd both had a few glasses earlier, and it was fine, but he needed something much stronger if he was going to have a chance at getting through the rest of the night.

"Whiskey, neat.”

He doesn't pay attention as the bartender pours his drink. He turns around toward where couples are dancing, scanning the room for you. When he finally finds you, his stomach twists, and he has to force himself to breathe.

Bohme has his hands on your hips, and your hand is on his chest, and the way his head dips toward yours sends a flash of anger through him. The two of you are dancing, swaying back and forth, and while Wrecker knows it's a mission, and that you're just playing a part, it still makes his stomach churn.

Because even from here, he can see the look in the man's eyes, and it's not one of someone who's just playing a part.

"Is that all?" the bartender asks.

"What—no, no. Give me another," Wrecker mutters, grabbing the first glass and downing it in a single gulp.

It burns his throat, but it's the distraction he needs, because the two of you are getting closer. He's not sure if Bohme is going in for a kiss, but he knows he's not going to be able to watch it happen.

The second glass goes down just as quickly, and Wrecker winces, slamming the glass back on the bar and turning around. He doesn't know what's come over him. He's not a jealous person. Never has been, not even a little. He's been on plenty of missions with you, and seen you get close with other men, and while he didn't like it, he's never felt this.

Wrecker pushes past the dancing couples and walks toward the two of you. As soon as Bohme's hand slides lower on your back, Wrecker knows it's too much. You've gone along with the plan, but Wrecker's not going to stand here and watch you be taken advantage of, not by him, or anyone.

He storms up to the two of you, ignoring the startled looks on your faces and those around you. Before he can even think about what he's doing, Wrecker wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close. His hand settles on your lower back, your skin warm and soft against his palm.

"Can I cut in?" he growls, his voice low and gruff.

"Uh—"

"I was talking to my wife," Wrecker snaps, his eyes narrowed.

The man's face pales, and his mouth drops open. He glances down at you, and then back up at Wrecker, and then steps back, holding his hands up in surrender.

You press your hand to his chest, and the motion is so familiar and comforting that his shoulders relax. He looks down at you, and his breath catches in his throat. There's a hint of a smile on your face, and you look happy, and his stomach flutters.

"Of course, darling," you murmur, your fingers curling into his shirt, "we were just having a nice chat, weren't we, Bohme?"

Wrecker glares at the man.

"Yeah, sure, we were," the man replies, taking a step back.

Wrecker knows he should leave it alone, and let you take care of it, but the whiskey has loosened his tongue, and the man's wandering hands have left him feeling more than a little possessive.

"Don't get any ideas, pal. She's married," Wrecker tells him, his voice a deep growl.

He's being harsh, but he doesn't care. You've had to deal with this asshole enough for one night, and Wrecker's tired of watching him touch you, and talk to you, and look at you.

"Of course, I would never," Bohme says, shaking his head.

Wrecker's not convinced, but he's not going to start a fight over it. As much as he'd like to knock the guy's teeth in, he doesn't. For your sake. And for the mission's, though he's caring less and less about that as the night goes on.

"You alright, sweetheart?" Wrecker asks, his tone gentler, more concerned, as he leads you away.

"I'm fine, darling," you answer, giving his arm a squeeze.

He's not sure if he's imagining it, but he swears you sound a little breathy. Wrecker's not surprised. If his heart is racing from the adrenaline of pulling you away from Bohme, then yours probably is, too.

"Sorry I forgot your drink," he mutters as he picks up his pace, "that guy just rubs me the wrong way."

"It's okay," you say, looking up at him with a small smile. As the two of you get further and further away, you add, "I was kind of hoping you would."

He stops walking, his brow furrowing. "What?"

"Nothing, ma sareen."

"Wait, were you—" Wrecker glances over his shoulder, and the realization hits him. You'd known the whole time, and were counting on him to notice, and he had. He's not sure if he should be mad, or embarrassed, or something else entirely. "Oh."

You tilt your head, looking up at him with an amused expression. "Yeah, oh."

"That's why you wanted a drink, wasn't it?"

You bite your lip, a blush rising to your cheeks. "Well, I was thirsty."

"I—"

"I knew you wouldn't leave me alone with him."

"I wouldn't," he says, shaking his head, "not in a million years."

You look down, and his grip on you tightens. He doesn't mean to, but he's still shaken up, and your nearness is a comfort, even if it shouldn't be.

You lean into him, and he takes a step forward, pulling you close. His other hand comes up, his fingers brushing your cheek, and his eyes drop to your lips. He doesn't mean to touch you like this, but now that he has, he doesn't want to stop.

"I know," you say softly, your breath warm against his palm.

"Good," he murmurs.

Your hand slips down his chest, and Wrecker shudders. You're standing so close, and your face is only inches from his, and your eyes are shining. The words leave him before he stop them, his voice a low rumble.

"And I don't want anyone else touching you, either.”

The sound that leaves your mouth sends a rush of heat through his veins, and he has to fight the urge to kiss you.

"Good," you whisper, the word nearly lost to the music.

"Really?"

You nod, looking up at him through your lashes, and his heart skips a beat. "Mhm."

Wrecker lets out a shaky breath, his hand sliding down to cup your cheek. His lips are only inches from yours, and he's not sure if it's the alcohol or the dress, but he feels bold. Too bold.

"Then, is it okay if I—"

You press a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"Yes," you tell him, leaning closer, "but not here."

Wrecker freezes. Did he hear that right? Or is he imagining things?

"Why not?"

"Because," you start slowly, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "if you kiss me, I'm not going to want you to stop. And we're in the middle of a party, and the mission's not over."

Wrecker doesn't even realize his mouth has fallen open until you reach up and close it for him. Your touch is gentle, and his cheeks are warm, and the softness in your eyes makes him melt.

Your hand drags down to adjust his lapel before you slip something into his pocket.

"Got his keycard," you whisper, patting his chest.

Wrecker doesn't care. You could've told him you'd stolen the man's starship, and it still wouldn't have mattered. Not with the way you're looking at him.

"You're really somethin', y'know that?" he asks, and if he sounds a little breathless, he doesn't care about that either.

"So are you, ma sareen," you answer, smiling softly, "so are you."

"Almost done," you say, your voice soft, but urgent.

Wrecker is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze locked on you. He's careful not to touch anything in Bohme's office as you make your way around. His eyes are on the sway of your hips, and the soft curves of your body, and it's all he can do not to reach out and pull you against him.

You'd managed to slip away, and while Wrecker is a little disappointed the two of you had to leave, he knows the sooner you're finished, the sooner you can be alone.

"Anythin' you need help with, sweetheart?"

"No," you answer, "I got it."

You're bent over, looking for something, and the view gives him a perfect view of the curve of your ass. It's a bit distracting, and his mind is wandering. He's thinking about how nice it would be to hold you in his arms, and kiss you, and the things he would like to do if he had the opportunity.

The list is getting longer by the minute.

"Just need a few more seconds."

"I'm not in a rush," he answers with a shrug. His eyes are locked on your ass, and the way it moves as you work. You'd asked him to keep watch, and that's what he's doing, just keeping watch.

"Yes, you are," you say, a teasing lilt in your voice.

"Maybe," he admits, not bothering to deny it.

He doesn't care if it's a little pathetic, or desperate. He doesn't want to hide his feelings anymore. Not from you, and not from himself. He wants you to know, and to understand.

You glance over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his. You're wearing a smile that makes his stomach flutter.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, a sultry note to your voice that makes his head spin. You walk over to the lamp on the wall and unscrew the glass. One of the bugs Tech had given you slips into the empty socket before you replace the bulb.

Wrecker blinks, his mind foggy.

"You."

You look surprised, and for a moment, he wonders if he's gone too far. But then, you smile, and he knows he's made the right choice. "Yeah? What about me?"

"Just how lucky I am," he tells you, the words sincere.

"Lucky?" you ask, raising a brow.

"Mhm."

You shake your head, letting out a soft laugh. "I think I'm the lucky one."

"I dunno. Pretty sure I'm the one who gets to take you home," Wrecker points out, a grin on his face.

Your eyes widen, and your lips part, and for a moment, you just stare at him, stunned. You let out a shaky breath, your face falling, and it's then that Wrecker realizes his mistake. You’re worth more to him than a quick roll in the sheets, and while he wants you, and the thought of it makes him hot and bothered, he's not interested in a one-night stand.

"I, uh, I didn't mean it like that," he stutters, his cheeks growing warm. “I—“

"Don't worry, darling, I know what you meant," you say, a hint of disappointment in your voice.

"It's not like—"

"We should go, Wrecker. The others are waiting."

"Right," Wrecker says quietly.

He doesn't like the tension in your shoulders, or the way you won't look at him. He's not sure what to say to fix this. All he knows is that the moment is over, and his heart is pounding.

When the two of you step out of the office, the door slides shut behind you, and he grabs your wrist. You don't stop, and you don't turn around. But you don't pull away, either.

"Hey, c'mon, just wait a sec, please."

You stop, letting out a quiet sigh. "It's okay, Wrecker, you don't have to—"

"But I want to."

You look up at him, your jaw set, and there's something in your eyes that tells him you don't believe him. It breaks his heart a little. Because it's true. He's been wanting you for a long time, and even if you don't feel the same, he's not going to let you leave without knowing it.

Wrecker takes a step toward you, and another, and another, until he's pressed against you. He lets go of your wrist, and his hand settles on your waist.

"Wrecker, what are you doing?"

"Trying not to be an idiot."

"You're not an—"

"Yeah, I am," he interrupts, a soft smile on his face. "I'm not good with words, and I don't always know the right thing to say. But I'm gonna try."

"Wrecker," you whisper, your eyes wide, "you don't have to."

"But I want to. I wanna tell you the truth."

"The truth?"

He nods.

"And what's that?"

"That I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever met," he tells you, his voice soft. "I think you're the bravest, and the kindest, and the smartest. I think you're the best, and I wish I was half the person you are."

"Wrecker, you're—"

He squeezes your waist gently. "Not done yet."

You smile up at him, a fondness in your eyes that makes his heart race, and you nod.

"And I know I don't deserve you, and I know you're probably just being nice, and that maybe, I'm reading into this too much, but I don't think so."

You look like you want to interrupt him again, but you don't. He's grateful.

"I think there's something here. Between us,” he says. “And I've never been good at keeping my feelings to myself. I think about you all the time, and I can't help it.”

"Wrecker, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"I dunno.” He shrugs. “Maybe. Probably."

You shake your head, laughing. "Wrecker, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're trying to tell me you have feelings for me."

"Well, that's because I do."

"What?" you ask, sounding almost as surprised as he felt earlier.

"Have feelings for you. I have a lot of 'em," he tells you, a smile on his face. It feels good to finally admit it. "I've had them for a while."

"How long?"

"Pretty much since I met you."

"Really?"

He nods. "Really."

"That's...a long time," you murmur.

"Mhm. So, that's the truth," Wrecker says. "And if you don't feel the same, or if I'm wrong, or if I'm misreading things, then just tell me, and I'll never bring it up again."

"I don't think I could," you answer, "not now, after all that."

"So, then, maybe—"

"Wrecker," you whisper, his tie and pulling him closer. Your lips brush his, and he has to fight the urge to groan. "I have a lot of feelings, too. I just didn't know you did."

"Yeah?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah," you breathe, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't bother fighting the groan this time. He can't. Not when you're this close. Not when he can feel your breath against his skin. Not when your lips are ghosting over his, and the scent of your perfume is filling his nose, and the warmth of your body is pressed against him.

"Then, does this mean—"

"You can kiss me," you murmur.

Wrecker doesn't hesitate.

His mouth crashes against yours, his hands slipping down to your hips and pulling you against him. You let out a whimper, and it's all he can do not to moan.

He doesn't want to push too far, or scare you away, so he holds back. He kisses you with restraint, with tenderness, with love. Your lips are soft, and pliant, and your fingers tighten in his shirt as he deepens the kiss. It's even better than he imagined, and he's spent hours imagining it.

He doesn't care that anyone could see you. He doesn't care about the mission, or the bugs, or the fact that the others are waiting for you. He only cares about you, and the way you feel in his arms.

"Wrecker," you mumble, breaking the kiss.

"Hm?"

"We should go," you remind him, your voice soft.

"Right," he says, "just one more."

"One more," you agree.

Your lips are on his again, and it's just as good as the first time. Wrecker doesn't want to stop, and he doesn't, not until his comm buzzes, and his brother's voice rings out in his ear.

"Wrecker, status report. We need an update."

Wrecker groans, pulling away from you. "Tech, not a good time."

"Now is precisely the time," his brother replies, sounding exasperated. "What is the status of the mission?"

Wrecker glances at you, and you look back up at him with a soft smile on your swollen lips. You reach up, cupping his cheek, and the feeling is so comforting and sweet that his chest aches.

"It's good," Wrecker answers, smiling. "The mission is going really good."

"Good?" he hears Hunter repeat. He's not sure if it's confusion or disbelief in his voice. Maybe a little bit of both.

"Great," he corrects, leaning down to kiss you again. "Really, really great."

"Oh," Tech mutters, and Wrecker can hear the gears turning in his head. "I…did not expect that."

Wrecker smiles down at you. "Yeah, well, neither did I."

“I see.” There's a pause, and the sound of shuffling, some muffled voices, and then Tech adds, "In that case, we will let you get back to your, ah, mission."

"Thanks, Tech."

"Mhm," his brother hums, sounding a little awkward. "You’re welcome. We'll see you both when you return.”

The comm clicks off, and Wrecker sighs. "Guess we should get back to the ship."

"Yeah, we probably should," you agree, though neither of you move. "Or..."

He perks up. "Or?"

"Or, we could go back to the hotel," you suggest, a playful note in your voice. "We did pay for the night, after all. It would be a shame to waste it."

"A real shame," he nods, his voice grave.

"Besides," you add, your hand sliding down his chest, "we could use the extra time to...discuss the details of the mission. Make sure we're on the same page, and everything."

Wrecker bites back a moan. The feeling of your hand on his chest, and the sound of your voice, and the suggestion in your words, and the glint in your eyes. It's enough to make his knees weak.

"What do you think, ma sareen?"

"I think," he murmurs, kissing your neck, "that's the best idea I've ever heard."

The two of you barely make it through the door.

As soon as it slides shut behind you, Wrecker’s lips are on yours. His hands haven’t left your hips since you entered the elevator. He guides you backwards, his hands roaming across your back and sides. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip, and the sound you make sends a rush of heat straight to his cock.

Your back hits the wall next to the door, and Wrecker lifts you up, wedging a thigh between your legs. The dress is riding up, and his hand slips under it, and he's never been more grateful for Tech's insistence on getting a hotel room.

His tongue slides across the roof of your mouth, and he swallows the gasp that leaves your lips. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you roll your hips, grinding against his thigh. The sound that leaves his mouth is embarrassingly needy as his hand moves higher, squeezing the soft flesh. Your knife has been safely returned to its holster, and his fingers run along the strap.

He wants to take his time with you, to make sure you know how he feels, but he can't stop touching you. You’re so soft, and he's been wanting to do this for so long, and the dress makes it so easy to find new places to explore.

"Wrecker," you whimper, arching against him.

He nips at your neck, and the soft whine that escapes your throat makes his knees weak. His hand squeezes the back of your leg, and his mouth travels lower, his teeth dragging across your collarbone.

"You look so fuckin' good in this," he tells you, his lips brushing the swell of your breasts. "Drivin' me crazy."

"Yeah?" you ask, reaching up to loosen his tie.

"Yeah," he grunts. He leans down, pressing his mouth to the tops of your breasts. You make a soft noise, and he smiles, his hand slipping up your thigh and pushing the hem of the dress higher. "Been thinkin' about taking it off all night.”

"Well, why don't you, then?"

Wrecker pulls away, and you look up at him, your eyes half-lidded and dark. Your cheeks are flushed, and your chest is rising and falling, and you look so fucking gorgeous, he can't stand it.

He doesn't respond. His lips find yours again, and he pushes your skirt up higher, his hands bunching the smooth fabric. He tries his best to be gentle, but it's hard. The thought of ripping the dress from your body, tearing it off and tossing it to the side is appealing, but he won't. It's not his to ruin, and he doesn't want to make you mad.

"This okay?" he asks, breaking the kiss.

"Yeah," you answer, nodding. Your hands join his, and together you pull the dress over your head, and toss it aside.

He nearly drops you.

He doesn't, but it's a close thing.

"You—oh, fuck," he groans, his head falling to the crook of your neck, "you weren't wearin' anythin' underneath?"

You let out a breathless laugh, and the feeling of it makes his head spin.

"Surprised?"

"Uh, yeah."

He's not sure what to say, or what to do.

The only thing he can think about is the way your bare pussy is pressed against his thigh. Your nails drag across his scalp, and he shudders. He’s pretty sure his brain is short-circuiting, because all he can do is stare at you.

Your makeup is messy, your headpiece a little crooked, and your chest is rising and falling in short, shallow breaths, and you're looking up at him with a smirk that makes him want to drop to his knees and worship you.

"What's wrong?" you ask, tilting his chin up. "You can't talk now?"

Wrecker grunts. You're teasing him, and he can't even pretend he doesn't like it. He likes it too much.

"You're not playin' fair," he complains, his voice gruff.

"No?"

"Nope."

"Well, neither are you," you say, rolling your hips. The motion drags your pussy across his thigh, and the dampness on his skin has him groaning. You lean forward, your mouth next to his ear. "So, what are you gonna do about it?"

He growls, and you gasp as his hands slide down, grabbing your ass. He hoists you up, putting your chest level with his face.

"Gonna show you," he rasps, "just how much you drive me crazy."

He's never seen anything hotter than the way you're looking at him right now, and he's not sure he ever will. He doesn’t want to close his eyes, doesn’t want to blink, but he can’t help it when his tongue darts out and his lips close around one of your nipples.

The soft sound that escapes your mouth makes his cock throb, and he presses your back against the wall, holding you up with ease with one hand as the other comes up to fondle your other breast. His tongue is hot and insistent against your skin, and your breath catches in your throat when he drags his teeth across the sensitive flesh.

"Fuck," you hiss, arching into him.

"Told ya you look good," he mumbles. He nips at the swell of your breast, and a moan escapes your lips. "Good enough to eat."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," he hums. "Can I?"

"Please."

You let out a squeak as he hikes you up further, his lips ghosting over your ribs, and then your sternum, and then the soft swell of your stomach. Your thighs are draped over his shoulders, and his hands are on the backs of your legs, holding them up and apart, and the sight of you above him is almost too much.

"You smell so fuckin' good," he growls, burying his face between your thighs.

You're already wet, and his nose bumps against your clit as he presses his mouth to your pussy. You're so warm, and soft, and when his tongue slides against you, you moan, the sound desperate and needy.

"Shit, Wrecker," you gasp, your hands coming down to grab his head.

"Just relax," he tells you, his tone a little patronizing. "I gotcha, sweetheart."

He dives in, his mouth eager and unrelenting. He licks and sucks and nips at the sensitive skin, and when his tongue pushes inside, you arch your back, rolling your hips. Your thighs squeeze around his head, and the noises that are leaving your lips are sending sparks down his spine.

He does it again, and again, and again, trying to coax more of those sounds from your mouth. He wants to see what he can get you to do, wants to know what makes you cry out, and moan, and scream.

You're trembling above him, and your pussy is so wet, he can feel it running down his chin.

"Oh, fuck," you curse, and he can't help but grin.

Your hips buck against his face, and he grabs your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. His fingers sink into the plush skin, and he spreads you apart, his tongue circling your clit. You shudder, and your thighs tighten around his head. He can tell you're getting close, and he can't wait to feel you fall apart, to see your face twist in pleasure, and hear his name on your lips.

He's never been good at this. He's always felt a little out of his depth, a little awkward, a little clumsy. But he's learning. He's watching your reactions, listening to the sounds you make, feeling the way your body responds. And he's paying attention, because he wants to be the only person who can make you feel like this.

He knows it's possessive. He knows it's a lot, especially since the two of you haven't talked about what this means. But he doesn't care. Not right now. He just wants you, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that's what happens.

You're writhing above him, and he can feel the muscles in your thighs tensing as his lips close around your clit. He makes sure he's got a good grip on you with one hand before sliding the other in between your thighs, and he pushes one finger inside you, and then another.

"Wrecker!"

He's pretty sure that's the hottest thing he's ever heard.

He doubles his efforts, his fingers pushing deeper and deeper. He's not even sure if he's hitting the right spot, but from the way you're writhing, and moaning, and cursing, it seems like he's doing something right. Your walls are squeezing his fingers, and he curls them, trying to find the spot that will make you scream.

You do.

Your whole body tenses, your thighs clamping hard around his head, and you throw your head back, crying out. He watches in awe, his eyes wide, and his mouth slack as you come apart above him. He can feel it, can feel your walls tightening, and the rush of heat as you climax, and he can’t resist the urge to press a kiss to the soft, swollen flesh.

"Wrecker," you choke out, your voice cracking, and he knows he's never going to get enough of this.

He keeps his fingers buried inside of you as he pulls away from the wall. You cling to him, and he carries you over to the bed, lowering you onto the mattress. His fingers slip out of you, and he watches in fascination as you clench around nothing, your body still trembling.

"Fuck," he groans, dropping to his knees and burying his head between your legs again.

You let out a noise of surprise, and his hands push your thighs open, keeping them spread wide.

"You did so good, sweetheart," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your swollen lips. He licks you clean, his tongue swiping through your folds. You squirm, and his grip on you tightens. "Gonna make you come again."

"Oh," you whimper, letting out a shaky breath.

"Just breathe, cyar'ika," he tells you, his lips trailing up your inner thigh. He can't get enough of the taste of you, or the way your body is reacting. You're still shaking, and the knowledge that it's because of him is making him delirious. He's pretty sure this is the best night of his life.

"I'm gonna make you feel good," he says, his voice soft and low. "I promise."

"You always make me feel good, Wrecker," you whisper.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, nodding. "Always."

Wrecker grins and leans back, shoving his suit jacket off his shoulders. He's not sure where you want him, or how far you want to take things, but he's happy to follow your lead. He’s happy to do this all night, every night, for the rest of his life, if you asked.

He unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt and rolls up the sleeves, his eyes never leaving you. You're looking up at him, your cheeks flushed, your chest rising and falling. He can't believe he gets to see you like this, so vulnerable and trusting.

"What is it?" you ask with a tilt of your head. The motion moves your lekku, and Wrecker's gaze follows. He's fascinated by the way they shift, and sway, and twitch. He wonders what they feel like, if you’ll let him touch them, if they're as sensitive as he's heard.

"Nothin'," he answers, shrugging.

"Liar."

"No, really," he says. Then, a grin spreads across his face, and he can't help himself, "I just like lookin' at ya."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"What about me do you like looking at, ma sareen?"

"Everything," he tells you, and the sincerity in his voice seems to catch you off guard. "Everythin' about you. You're gorgeous, and I'm lucky as hell."

"Wrecker, you're not just saying that, are you?"

"Never," he promises, "not when it comes to you."

You bite your lip, and the way your teeth sink into the plump flesh sends a rush of heat through him.

"You're too good to me," you mumble, a fondness in your eyes that makes his heart swell.

"Could never be too good to you," he replies quickly, shaking his head. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows and leans back down, kissing the curve of your stomach.

"Wrecker," you sigh, your hands settling on his shoulders, "you're such a gentleman."

"A gentleman?" He laughs, his forehead resting against your hip.

"Mhm," you hum.

He glances up at you, his brows raised. "Sweetheart, I've had my face between your legs for the past fifteen minutes, and you're tellin' me I'm a gentleman?"

"Maybe I like a man who knows how to treat me," you suggest.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Wrecker chuckles, and then he kisses the top of your mound, and then the crease of your thigh, and then your knee. You make a soft noise, and his eyes flick back to your face.

"So, do you still want me to keep treatin' you?" he asks, and if the words come out a little nervous, he can't help it.

"Of course," you say, a hint of surprise in your voice, as if you can't believe he would think otherwise. You smile sweetly, and the weight in his chest lifts. "I want everything with you, Wrecker. Always."

"Good," he sighs, the tension leaving his body. "Because I want everythin', too."

Your head falls back against the pillows, your hands slipping from his shoulders to his head. You pull him closer, and he's more than happy to follow your lead.

"Then, come on, darling," you murmur, lifting your hips and spreading your legs wider, "give me everything."

Wrecker swallows thickly.

"Yes, ma'am."

His mouth is on you again, and you don't hesitate to let him know how good he's doing. You're not shy, and you're not quiet, and you're not afraid to take what you want.

And, gods, does Wrecker like that.

He's still a little in awe, a little dumbstruck by the fact that this is happening, and that it's not just some fantasy he's making up in his head. This is real, and you're here, and you're enjoying yourself, and the sound of your voice, the way you move, the softness of your body is so fucking overwhelming, it's making him delirious.

He wants to do this every night, for the rest of his life.

Your scent fills his nose, and your taste coats his tongue, and the slick, wet noises his mouth makes as he eats you out are driving him crazy. You're shaking beneath him, and your legs are draped over his shoulders, and your nails are scraping against his scalp. Your heels dig into his back, and his hands move down, holding you steady. He's not stopping until you tell him to, and from the way you're moaning, he doesn't think that's going to be anytime soon.

"You're so fucking hot," he groans, his teeth scraping against your folds. "Gonna make you come again. Gonna get you nice and ready for me."

You whimper, and he knows he's made the right choice.

"Sound good?" he asks, voice muffled by your cunt.

"Mhm," you nod.

"Yeah?"

"Yes," you moan, "yes, please, please, I want you to fuck me."

"Oh, I'm gonna," he growls, his lips brushing against your clit, "but first, I'm gonna make you scream."

He's not sure where he found the confidence, but he doesn't care. He doesn't even notice. He's too busy trying to get you to come for him again. He's licking, and sucking, and kissing, and nibbling, and it's only when you're begging him to fuck you that he finally pulls away for air.

"Not yet," he says, pressing a kiss to the crease of your thigh.

"Please," you whimper, "please, Wrecker, I need it. Need you."

He chuckles, his stubble scratching against the inside of your thigh. "I know, sweetheart, I know. Not yet, though. Just a little more."

He slips two fingers inside you, curling them, and your whole body jolts.

"Wrecker, please, I'm so fucking wet, just—"

"I know," he grins, pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your pussy is soaked, and the sound of him fingering you is obscene. It makes him want to shove his cock into you, to feel how tight and warm you are. "Gettin' you nice and wet for me."

"Don't—don't tease me," you huff, and Wrecker laughs, kissing your clit.

"I'm not," he insists. "Just tryin' to make sure you're ready."

"Ready?"

"Mhm." He pushes his fingers deeper, and he can feel the way your walls are already fluttering, the way your muscles are twitching. You're close, and he can't wait to see what you look like when you fall apart. "Wanna make sure you can take me."

"I can," you assure him, "please, I can."

"I'm gonna make you come again," he says, his voice soft. "And then, when you're all nice and relaxed, and you're beggin' for my cock, that's when I'm gonna fuck you."

"I'm begging now," you whine.

"I know, baby," he murmurs, his tongue pressing flat against your clit. "Be patient. It'll be worth it, I promise."

"Okay," you say, and the sound comes out strangled, like it's hard for you to talk. The way your voice breaks, and your chest rises and falls has him grinning, and he leans down again, his mouth eager and insistent.

"Fuck," you gasp, "oh, fuck, Wrecker, I'm—I'm gonna—"

"Go ahead," he encourages, his voice husky, "lemme see.”

Your head falls back, your whole body trembling as you come for the second time that night. It's even more beautiful than the first, and the way you pull his fingers deeper has him moaning against you. He doesn't stop until you're pushing him away, and even then, he doesn't go far.

Wrecker pulls back, slowly, his eyes on yours. You're breathing heavily, and your cheeks are flushed. Somewhere along the way the headpiece you were wearing had come loose, and it's resting on the pillow next to you. Your eyes are hooded, a dazed look on your face, and you look absolutely gorgeous.

"That was so fucking hot," he tells you, leaning down to press a kiss to your inner thigh.

"Wrecker, that was..." you trail off, letting out a quiet sigh. "I've never come twice that fast before."

"Really?"

You shake your head, laughing breathlessly. "Nope."

"So, I guess I did a good job?"

"Good?" you repeat, looking almost offended. "Darling, it was incredible."

He grins wide and presses a kiss to your stomach. You cup his cheek, and your thumb brushes his lip. It's damp with your arousal, and the realization sends a wave of heat through him.

"I'm just glad I made you feel good," he says.

"Trust me, you did," you assure him, and the earnestness in your voice has his cheeks flushing.

"Glad to hear it," he murmurs. He nips at the underside of your breast, and you whimper.

"Wrecker," you mumble.

"Mhm?"

"Come here."

"Why?"

"Because," you answer, sitting up and grabbing his tie, "I want to kiss you."

He lets out a laugh. "Is that all?"

"No," you say, and the honesty in your tone makes him shiver. You tug on the tie, pulling him towards you until your lips meet in a messy kiss. He's careful not to put his weight on you, keeping most of it on his forearms as he presses closer. Your tongue is hot and insistent against his, and when your teeth scrape his bottom lip, a groan escapes his throat.

"Please," you mumble against his lips. "Please, Wrecker, fuck me."

“Was hoping you’d say that,” he grunts, a smirk on his face.

He kisses you again, and it's rough and needy and a little clumsy. Your hands are roaming across his back, and when they tug on his shirt, he reaches around, pulling the hem out of his pants and working the buttons open.

He doesn't have the patience to undo them all, so he tears the shirt and tie off and tosses them aside. He breathes a sigh of relief at finally being free from the restrictive fabric, only to suck in a sharp breath as your nails scrape his sides. The sensation sends a shiver through him, and he buries his head in the crook of your neck, panting.

You don't let up, your hands exploring the planes and divots of his bare chest. His skin is on fire, and his muscles are flexing beneath your touch. Your mouth finds his neck as your fingers move to undo his belt, and his whole body jolts.

You hum, pleased, and Wrecker knows he's in trouble.

Your teeth sink into his shoulder, and your tongue swipes over the marks, and when you press a kiss to his pulse point, he has to remind himself not to get carried away. He's not even inside you yet, and he's already on the verge of losing control.

"Wrecker, I'm tired of waiting," you whine, your hand sliding under his pants and squeezing his ass. "I need you."

"Shit," he curses, his cock twitching in his boxers. "I need you, too."

"Then, what are you waiting for?"

"Nothin'," he says, sitting up. "Absolutely nothin'."

He gets to his feet, pulling off his shoes and socks faster than he's ever undressed in his life. He shoves his pants and boxers down, and his cock springs free. You let out a quiet noise, and he feels a surge of pride as your eyes move down his body, and widen.

"Oh, Wrecker," you breathe, and the awe in your voice is so fucking satisfying. "You're..."

"Yeah?"

"It's so big," you murmur.

He feels the tips of his ears burn. He knows he's big. He's bigger than most, and he's always been worried about scaring people off.

"Do you think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," you say quickly, nodding.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure."

He's not convinced. "It's okay if you can't, y'know."

"I know, Wrecker," you answer, sounding amused. "I can handle it."

"I just don't want to hurt you."

"I know. And it's sweet. But if you don't come here and fuck me right now, I'm going to go crazy."

"Well, we can't have that," he mutters, a smile playing on his lips.

He climbs back onto the bed, and you move to meet him halfway, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you kneel together. Your chest presses against his, and you're so warm and soft, and he feels like he's going to melt.

He kisses the tip of your lek, and you let out a squeak, and the sound is so cute, he has to kiss the other one, too. He wants to kiss every part of you, and he plans to, someday. Right now, though, he's got something more important to take care of.

His mouth finds yours, and he cups the back of your neck, holding you still. You're pressed together, skin to skin, and he can feel the heat radiating from your body. Your hands are moving over his shoulders, down his chest, across his stomach, and when your fingers wrap around his cock, his hips buck.

"Fuck," he groans.

You give him a slow, languid stroke, and his eyes nearly roll back.

"You're beautiful," you whisper, your hand moving up and down, spreading precum along his length. You press a kiss to his shoulder, and then his collarbone, and his jaw, and his chin, and his mouth.

"I—ah," he grunts, his forehead falling to rest on yours, "You're kiddin', right?"

"Why would I be kidding?"

"You've got a lot more goin' for ya than me," he replies, his cheeks flushing. "A hell of a lot more."

"Nonsense," you say, shaking your head. Your grip tightens, and his breath catches in his throat. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen, and the things I want to do to you are..."

"Are what?"

"I'd rather show you," you admit, and there's something in your voice that makes his heart skip a beat.

"Well, go ahead, then," he encourages, giving you a toothy grin. "Show me."

Wrecker lets out a surprised yelp when you grab his shoulders and push him back, his back hitting the mattress. He laughs, and then you're on top of him, and his laughter dies, his breath coming out in short, shallow gasps.

You're straddling his waist, and the sight of your naked body above him is the most incredible thing he's ever seen. His hands move on their own, running across your thighs, your hips, and your ribs.

"This is a good look for you," you say, smirking.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm."

You lean down and kiss him, and he can't help the way his hands wander, one moving up to squeeze your ass, and the other finding your breast. He can't get enough of you, and he doesn't know if he ever will. He squeezes, and rolls, and fondles, and when his thumb brushes your nipple, you break the kiss with a soft moan. You pull away, and he chases after you, his lips pressing against yours.

"Wrecker, stop," you giggle, swatting his hand away.

"I can't help it," he tells you, leaning up and pressing a kiss to your neck. "You're too kriffin' sexy."

"I need you inside me," you say, pushing his shoulders back. "And I'm not going to be able to get there if you keep distracting me."

"Alright," he sighs, falling back against the mattress. "Go ahead, I'll be patient."

"Good boy."

His eyes go wide, and his cock throbs at the words. He knows he likes being praised, and he's not ashamed to admit that, but the way it makes him react is almost embarrassing.

"Oh," you grin, and the mischief in your eyes has his heart racing. "You like that?"

"Yeah," he nods, his cheeks flushing.

"What else do you like?" you ask, leaning forward and grinding against him.

He swallows thickly. "Um."

"Wrecker," you say softly, and his eyes dart up to yours.

"I—" he stammers, his gaze flicking back down to your cunt. "I, uh—you know, I've never really had anyone ask me that before."

"Well, consider this the first time," you tell him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Tell me."

"Uh."

"Come on," you urge, kissing the other side, "tell me what you like."

"I like makin' you feel good," he blurts out. "I like it rough, I like bein' told what to do. I like knowin' I'm doin' a good job. And I like you, so—so just...tell me how you feel, or somethin', and I'll be happy."

"I can work with that."

You sit up, and the motion brings your pussy closer to his cock. He watches with wide eyes as you raise yourself up and guide his cock between your folds, the tip brushing against your entrance. His hips twitch, and his hands come up to grip your waist, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

"Kriff, you're gorgeous," he breathes, his eyes on the place where his cock is just barely penetrating you. "You're amazing."

"So are you," you reply.

He's not sure he agrees, but he doesn't have time to argue, because you're sinking down onto him, and his brain stops working.

You let out a quiet sigh, and Wrecker tries his best to keep his composure, but the wet, hot, tightness is too much. His hands tighten, his fingers digging into your sides before he realizes what he's doing. He relaxes his grip, his palms sliding across your skin, his eyes still on where your bodies are joined.

"Shit, sweetheart, I'm sorry, I just—"

"Don't apologize," you interrupt, your hips shifting, and his cock pushes a little deeper.

"I can't help it," he huffs, "I don't wanna hurt you."

"You're not hurting me," you promise, one hand settling on his chest. The other takes his hand, and you lift it up to your mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. "I'll tell you if you are, alright? So, don't worry. Just relax."

"Okay," he nods, taking a deep breath. "I can do that."

"Good boy," you praise, and Wrecker feels a wave of heat crash through him.

Your hips shift, and you sink down another inch. He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers curling into a fist. Your mouth is hot and insistent against his knuckles, your tongue swiping over the sensitive skin. You kiss his fingertips, and then his palm, and then the back of his hand. You nip at the fleshy part beneath his thumb, and he hisses, the sensation sending sparks up his arm.

"Fuck," he groans, and his hips buck, and his cock slides a little further inside.

"You're so big," you murmur, your hand sliding up his arm and over his chest. Your nails scrape his skin, and he trembles. "So fucking big, Wrecker."

"Yeah?"

You nod, your mouth open, and your cheeks flushed. Your eyes are a little glassy, and your breathing is shallow, and he can't believe how lucky he is to be here, with you, in this moment.

"I'm gonna—gonna make you feel good," he promises, and you laugh, your walls fluttering around him.

"Oh, darling," you sigh, lifting your hips and sinking back down, taking him a little deeper, "you already are."

His eyes squeeze shut, and his grip on you tightens. He tries to remember to breathe, and not to buck his hips, and not to pull you down and bury himself to the hilt. You're still kissing his hand, and the softness of your lips has him melting, his shoulders falling back against the bed.

"Look at me, ma sareen," you murmur.

Wrecker does.

The sight that greets him nearly sends him over the edge. You're hovering above him, his cock buried inside you, your lekku dangling in the space between your bodies. The lights in the room are dim, but the glow is bright enough to highlight the curve of your breasts, the swell of your hips, and the way your skin seems to shimmer.

You're breathtaking.

"You're amazin'," he says again, because he doesn't have anything better to say.

"You're so sweet," you chuckle, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love that about you."

"Yeah?"

"Yes."

You kiss him again, and his mouth opens under yours. He groans when you bite his bottom lip, his hands moving to your hips, guiding your movements. You roll your hips, and his cock slips out of you, before sliding back in. You do it again, and again, and again, until the tip of his cock nudges against the end of your channel.

"Oh, shit," you gasp, sitting up, and bracing your hands against his stomach. "Oh, gods, Wrecker, you're—you're so fucking deep."

"Does it feel good?"

"So fucking good," you whimper.

He sits up and wraps his arms around you, holding you close. He can feel the tips of your lekku resting on his chest, and they're even softer than he imagined. He presses a kiss to the base of one, and then the other, and then he's kissing your neck, his stubble scratching against your skin.

"Ah," you sigh, your hips rocking. "Wrecker, fuck, it feels so good."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

"Good," he growls, and then he grabs your ass and pulls you down onto his cock.

You let out a surprised cry, and then you're moving faster, grinding down on his length. He thrusts up, his hips meeting yours. Your hands are everywhere, roaming across his back, his shoulders, and his chest. You're not shy about it, and you don't hold back. You squeeze, and stroke, and touch every part of him, and it's making him dizzy.

"Fuck, you feel so good," you moan, and Wrecker grunts, his teeth scraping the base of your lekku. "So fucking good, Wrecker."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, and then you're pulling away, and his chest aches at the loss. You push him back against the pillows, and he stares up at you, his lips parted as you ride him, bouncing up and down. Your hands are planted on his chest, and your nails are digging into his skin.

He watches in awe as you take him, his cock disappearing between your legs. No one's ever taken him like this, no one's ever been able to handle him the way you are. You're not afraid, and you're not shy, and you're not afraid to get what you want.

"You're kriffin' perfect," he says, and then he's reaching for you, his hands cupping your face.

Wrecker kisses you, and the sound that leaves your throat is so needy, and desperate, that he can't help but thrust up into you, harder and faster. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you suck on it, drawing a groan from his chest. He's trying to hold on, to last as long as he can, but it's not easy. Not when you're riding him like this, and making him feel like this.

You pull away with a gasp and bury your face in his neck, and the warmth of your breath makes him shiver. He can't see your face, but he can feel the way you're shaking, can hear the quiet noises you're making.

"You like that?" he asks, his voice rough.

"So much," you whine.

"Gonna come for me?"

"Yes, please, yes," you whimper.

"Gonna scream for me?"

"Oh, Wrecker," you moan, your teeth sinking into his shoulder, and the pain goes straight to his cock. "Wrecker, you're making me—I'm so close, please, harder."

He doesn't hesitate to follow your orders.

He lifts his legs, spreading them wider, and you slide a little further down his length. His hips snap up, and your whole body jolts. The first slap of skin against skin has him groaning, and the second has him cursing, and by the time his balls are slapping against your ass, you're begging him not to stop.

He's not sure he could, even if he wanted to. He thrusts again, and again, his pace building. Your cunt is dripping, the wetness seeping from your entrance, and the lewd squelching sound fills the room.

His hand cups the back of your head, holding you close. You nuzzle against his shoulder, your lips pressed to his collarbone, and the sensation is so fucking intimate, so sweet, he's not sure how much longer he's going to be able to hold out.

"Sweetheart," he grunts, and he doesn't have the words to continue, doesn't know how to tell you he's going to come, doesn't want this to end.

"You're so good," you whisper, and he can feel his balls tightening, "so fucking good, Wrecker."

"Can I—I'm gonna come," he warns.

"Oh, fuck, me, too."

"Where—where do you want me?"

"Inside," you whine, and Wrecker has to grit his teeth to keep from coming on the spot. "Wrecker, inside, please, fill me up, I want it, want you."

"Shit," he groans, "fuck, fuck, sweetheart, you're—oh, shit, I'm—"

Your body goes stiff, your walls fluttering around his cock, and his mouth falls open. He's not prepared for the feeling of your pussy gripping his length, or the sound of your breathy moans. He's not prepared for the way your thighs tremble, or the way your back arches, or the way his name spills from your lips.

He's not prepared for the orgasm that crashes over him, the heat and the pleasure that rushes through his veins, and the way his whole body shudders as he comes inside you.

He can't remember the last time he came this hard, the last time he lost control like this. The feeling of your cunt around him is too much, and his head falls back, his eyes squeezing shut. The only thing that keeps him tethered to reality is the sound of your voice in his ear, a string of words in a language he doesn’t understand falling from your lips.

Wrecker holds you, his arms wrapping around you, and his hips buck, his cock twitching. He can't get enough, can't stop coming, can't stop fucking up into you. Your moans are soft, and gentle, and it's not until his own climax has subsided that he realizes you’re slumped against him, your breathing heavy, your face pressed to his neck.

"Shit, sorry, cyar'ika," he mutters as he realizes his grip has tightened. He moves to pull his hands away, but you reach out, taking his wrists and placing his hands back on your waist.

"No," you whimper, "please."

"Sweetheart, I'm hurtin' you."

"Just a little longer," you tell him, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the base of his throat.

He's not sure why, but the request brings tears to his eyes. You want him. You want him to hold you, and touch you, and the realization makes his heart swell.

"Alright," he agrees, and you sigh and nestle closer.

He lays there, his softening cock still buried inside you, his arms around you, and his fingers find their way to your lekku. He strokes them gently, and you shiver, your body trembling.

"Is this okay?" he asks.

"Yes," you answer, your voice barely above a whisper. "It feels nice."

"Good," he says, smiling. "I like touchin' you."

"I can tell," you laugh and press a kiss to his chest.

He continues, his fingertips tracing a path down the side of one, and then the other. He doesn't know how much time passes. He's lost in the feeling of you, in the warmth of your body, in the softness of your skin. He doesn't even realize his eyes are closed until he hears you laughing.

"What?" Wrecker asks, opening his eyes and looking down at you.

"Are you asleep?"

"No," he answers, shaking his head, though the blush on his face gives him away. "I was just restin' my eyes."

"You sure?" you ask, and there's a teasing tone in your voice.

"I'm sure," he says, and then you're pulling away. His arms drop, and his cock slips out of your cunt, and his mouth falls open. Your combined release is leaking out of you, dripping down his cock and onto his stomach.

"Wow," he breathes.

"Is it a bad 'wow' or a good 'wow'?" you ask, your teeth sinking into your lower lip.

"The good kind," he answers, his eyes roaming over your body before returning to your face. His brows furrow. "Can I kiss you?"

"Wrecker, you don't have to ask," you tell him.

"Well, um," he starts, his cheeks turning pink. "It's just, I'm not really good at this part."

"What part?"

"The after part," he tells you. "I mean, it's always been, you know, in the dark, or quick, and I don't know how you feel about kissing and cuddlin' after, and I just...I dunno, I just like you, and I want to do it right."

"Oh, Wrecker," you laugh, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "I like kissing and cuddling."

"You do?"

"I do," you nod, a smile on your face. "There's nothing more I'd rather do than kiss you, and cuddle with you, and hold you, and fall asleep with you. That is, if you'll have me."

"Oh.” He blinks. "Yeah, um, I'd like that a lot."

"Then, by all means, darling," you tell him, "kiss me."

"Yeah?"

"Mhm," you nod, grinning. "Please."

Wrecker leans forward, his hand cupping your cheek, and he presses his lips to yours. He licks into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours, and the soft moan that leaves your lips makes his heart soar.

"You're incredible," he breathes, and the smile on your face is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You are too," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I hope that was everything you were hoping for."

"It was even better," he says, his hand moving down and resting on your hip. "Can we do it again?"

"Right now?" you ask, and he can't help but laugh.

"I was thinkin' tomorrow, maybe," he tells you, his thumb stroking your skin. "I'm gonna be honest, sweetheart, I don't think I'm gonna be able to go again for a while."

"Me either," you reply, laughing.

"But," he starts, his grip on your waist tightening, "when I am, you want to?”

"Of course," you tell him, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his neck. "I have some other ideas I'd like to run by you, if you're interested."

"I'm very interested." He grins. "Lets get cleaned up, and then you can tell me all about ‘em.”

"Mm," you whine, burying your face in the crook of his neck. “But I don’t want to move.”

“Not a problem,” he replies, and before you can say anything, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against him. You squeal, your legs wrapping around his waist, and he slides off the bed, holding you against him.

"Wrecker, put me down," you giggle.

"You're the one who didn't want to move," he reminds you.

"Put me down," you say, but your voice is full of laughter, and you’re smiling.

"No," he teases, shaking his head.

"Wrecker," you sigh, rolling your eyes.

"Sweetheart," he replies, mimicking your tone. “I’m a gentleman, remember? And a gentleman always carries his girl to the shower."

"In that case," you murmur, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face against his throat, "thank you, sir."

He walks toward the refresher, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist, and his chest is bursting with pride. You're smiling, and laughing, and holding onto him, and it feels like a dream.

Wrecker sits you on the edge of the counter, and you wince, a soft hiss leaving your lips.

"You okay?"

"Just a little sore," you admit.

"Shit," he curses. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, no," you shake your head, your hand finding his wrist and squeezing. "It's a good sore, I promise. You were wonderful."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Mhm," you nod, biting your lip. "Best I've ever had."

He laughs. "That can't be true."

"Well, it is," you tell him, and he can see the sincerity in your eyes. "I mean, I've never felt anything like it."

He smiles, leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. You reach up, your fingertips brushing against his cheek, and he turns, kissing the palm of your hand.

"You're not just sayin' that, are ya?" he asks.

"Why would I?"

"I dunno," he admits.

"Wrecker," you sigh, your thumb brushing across his lower lip, "it's been a long time since I've felt anything for anyone. The truth is, I've had a crush on you for months. You're sweet, and kind, and funny, and the things you did tonight...the way you made me feel, the way you treated me...I've never felt so safe. Or special.”

"It was nothin'," he says, his cheeks flushing.

"It wasn't nothing," you insist, and he knows the look in your eyes means you're not going to let it go. "You made me feel beautiful, and wanted, and cared for, and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that. And it's going to take a lot more than a rough fuck to get rid of me."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

"Yes," you say, pressing a kiss to his chin.

"Okay," he nods. "So, we're gonna try this, huh?"

"Do you want to?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course I do," he laughs, his hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I just didn't want to push."

"Well, consider this your official invitation," you tell him, your hands sliding down and squeezing his biceps. "I'm all yours."

"All mine, huh?"

"Yep."

"Good," he nods, and then he's scooping you back up and carrying you toward the shower. "Because I'm all yours, too."

"Even better," you laugh, and the sound is like music to his ears.

Wrecker kisses you again, his hands gripping your thighs, and your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. You smile against his lips, and he can't help the grin that spreads across his face. He's not sure how this happened. He's not sure why you picked him. But he doesn't care.

All he cares about is the feeling of your lips against his, and the sound of your laughter filling the room. All he cares about is the taste of your mouth, and the warmth of your skin, and the way his chest swells every time you look at him.

He doesn't know where this is going, or how far it will go, but he knows one thing.

He wants it. All of it. With you.

Translation: ma sareen = Ryl for "my sweet"

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#wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #wrecker wednesday #the bad batch wrecker #the bad batch #clone x reader #clone smut #wrecker tbb #wrecker bad batch #the bad batch x reader #the clone wars #roy writes #listen work was a real shitshow today #so even an ounce of criticism could kill me outright #please be nice to me

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mrzombielover · 9 months ago

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- slow ride ch1

feat. sinner!adam x fem!hotel worker!reader

series masterlist | next chapter

warnings: NSFW, enemies to fuckbuddies, adam and reader both suck, unhealthy relationships, size kink oooops, light degradation

a/n: oh my god this is so self indulgent. something is fr wrong with me bc all my favorite men are irrevocably fucked up and toxic and emotionally damaged and would treat me like shit teehee

wc: 2.2k

“You took my shame and you took my pride / And now you gonna take me for a slowride”

When even Charlie is trepidatious about checking someone in to the hotel, you know they’ve fucked up bad.

Adam had shown up, tail between his legs, admitting something about how he’s “desperate enough to try anything,” even this “stupid delusional humiliating hotel.”

Charlie, who’s more like an angel than Adam ever was, had ultimately decided that he could stay. After a lengthy and heated discussion, she’d reminded the group that the hotel’s policy states that everyone deserves a chance at redemption, regardless of the sins they’ve committed. Considering he killed your friend, you thought that was bullshit, but it’s Charlie’s hotel at the end of the day, and you’re just along for the ride.

You like Charlie, which is why you put up with having Adam around. She’s a good person- genuinely, deep down. There’s no hidden motives in her actions. You’ve not met many good people in your life, so she’s won your respect, even if you have your doubts about the hotel’s premise.

But for as much as you love her, you briefly questioned her sanity when she asked you to keep a special eye on Adam.

“…and how exactly is that the job of treasury secretary?” You deadpan.

“Wellll…” Charlie trails off, looking away for a moment. “It isn’t really. Buuut what if I was asking as a favor, for your friend?” She clasps her hands together, giving you a smile. You have to avert your eyes from the hopeful look on her face before your resolve cracks.

“No way in hell,” You say quickly.

“Please!”

“No,”

“Pleaseee!”

You bite your lip as you think. He’s obnoxious, yes, but what’s really the worst that could happen? You close your eyes and sigh.

“…you owe me one,”

You regret accepting every day. Nobody got along with Adam. Well, nobody except for Nifty, who seemed thrilled to have a real bad boy staying in the hotel. You, however, got along with him the least of all.

For someone who’d come to the hotel in his time of need- who was in no position to ask for anything other than forgiveness- Adam sure has a smartass mouth. It seems Charlie just wants to give you a brain aneurysm, that’s why she gave you this job. Even if that wasn’t her goal, that’s certainly the stage you’re approaching, because fighting with Adam everyday is 100% going to make you pop a blood vessel.

You can’t help it. Something about him- the way he acts, the forced proximity, just gets under your skin, makes your eye twitch. He should be groveling, begging for forgiveness, putting his heart and soul into bettering himself, yet all he does is bitch and moan. Constantly complaining would be one thing, hell’s full of whiners, but he also feels the need to voice every thought he’s ever had, which often includes insults and snide remarks about those around him. You’ve never been one to take that shit- though, nobody at the hotel really does. It seems to be much worse with you two, specifically, though.

The problem comes in because, as much as you hate to admit it, you might sometimes occasionally have some things in common with him. No, you’re not quite as loud or crude or obnoxious, you don’t generally insult people for fun, but if someone deserves it?

You’ve tore into people for way less than murdering your friend, showing up on your doorstep and being a pain in your ass 24/7, especially if you’re in a particularly shitty mood. Reduced people to tears for mildly inconveniencing you, having an annoying voice, wasting food, etc etc… all of which Adam does.

Generally, you’re apathetic to what goes on around you, especially at the hotel. You’re fed, don’t have to pay rent, and can pretty much do whatever you want, so dealing with the annoying, traumatized, dramatic residents and staff is a fair trade off in your eyes. Adam should, in theory, be no different than the rest of them to you. So you cannot, for the life of you, figure out what about him makes him so much worse than the rest.

You just try not to think about him as much as possible. But when you ignore him, he just seems to get worse.

“Jesus, you don’t think it’s a bit early to start drinking?”

You mentally groan as you hear his voice, avoiding eye contact as you crack open the bottle.

“I mean, Isn’t this shithole supposed to be for rehabilitation?” You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he opens the fridge.

“Why don’t you focus on your own rehab first, dick? Been weeks now and you’re still an asshole,” You snap, before taking a swig of your beer. He shrugs, grabbing the orange juice from the fridge and placing it on the counter. He walks past where you’re leaning on the counter to get a glass.

“I mean, damn, you didn’t even try today, huh?”He laughs.

“Why are you pickin’ a fight with me right now?” You raise your voice a little, exasperated and too hungover to deal with this.

“oh, uh, i dunno… i’m bored?” He shrugs again, looking over to you with a self satisfied smile. You groan in frustration, then sigh, forcing yourself to keep it together.

“…and you wonder why your wives left you,” you mumble with a roll your eyes, turning to quickly leave the kitchen. you don’t see his face, but judging from the sound of a crash and footsteps quickly following you into the hallway, you hit a nerve. oh, god, here we go…

“you fucking junkie bitch!” he yells after you as you stomp up the stairs.

“you’re proving my point right now!” you say over your shoulder.

“Like you have room to talk? Let’s bring up your love life, huh?!”

“oh my god shut up!” Angel yells through the door as you pass his room. “Every fuckin’ morning with you two!”

Adam ignores him, continuing to rant as he follows closely behind you, every degrading name he can think of spilling from his lips.

“…fucking whore cunt- whose not even fucking listening to me!” he says as you turn into your room. you turn, attempting to slam the door, but he sticks his foot in the gap and grabs the door, shoving it back open.

“what in the fuck is your problem today?!” you yell.

“it’s you, bitch!”

“oh my god- how do you care about anything this much? Seriously, it’s not that deep!”

you jump a little as he suddenly slaps the beer bottle out of your hands, the glass shattering loudly and the leftover beer soaking your socks. your jaw drops, outraged, and you can’t help the reflex to reach up and smack the side of his head.

“ow!” he yelps, and you raise your fists to hit him again, when-

“you- fucking bitch-!” he shouts. you cry out in surprise as he grabs your wrists and yanks you with surprising ease, shoving you roughly into the wall behind you.

theres a struggle, both grunting with the strain of pushing against each other as Adam wrestles to keep the upper hand. You go to knee him, but he moves quicker, slotting one of his legs between your own and pressing his body against yours to pin you completely against the wall.

then, something changes. he pauses, the close proximity seems to have finally registered in his brain. his eyes widen and you pause too, both panting, faces inches apart. his grip loosens, and a flicker of confusion crosses his features.

“wait, what’s-“

“shut up,” you snap suddenly. before you even realize what you’re doing, your hands are on his chest, and you’re shoving him towards your bed.

“take off your shirt,” you command as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he’s falling backwards. he quickly does as you say, looking up at you with wide eyes as you straddle him and rip your own shirt off as well. he mumbles a nice when he sees you’re not wearing a bra. you reach to tug off the sweatpants you had on, and as soon as you can kick them away Adam’s hands are on your waist and flipping you over. He hurriedly rips off the rest of his clothes before he’s back on you, leaning down to eagerly press kisses down your neck. you have to tilt your head to make room for the horns now permanently attached to his head, and you think of the irony of this situation.

the sound of fabric ripping followed immediately by two of his fingers finding your clit makes you gasp. you bite back a whimper as he begins to rub rough and sloppy circles on your clit. the pleasure doesn’t last long before he’s pulling his hand back, only to shove a finger inside your cunt quickly, and you gasp again. being so unprepared, the stretch burns a bit. fuck, has he always had such big hands? he’s gentle at first, as he works the single finger in and out of you, and once the pain subsides, he quickly adds a second one.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the curse that slips past your lips, and before long you’re rocking your hips against his hand. his movements are rushed and sloppy, impatient as he stretches you out. he chuckles dryly, and you shoot him a glare.

once again, before long, he’s pulling away, and grabbing you by the shoulders to make you sit up with him. you whine involuntarily at the loss of contact, and the cocky bastard laughs again.

“So impatient, babe,” He grins.

“Shut up,” You say again, pushing him so that he’s sitting up against the bed frame. You crawl over to him, and straddle his lap. His hands find your ass, groping it roughly while you grab the base of his cock and align the tip with your entrance.

You both gasp in unison when you swiftly lower yourself to take his full length. A strangled moan escapes from your lips and you let your head fall forward to rest on his shoulder. Eyes squeezed shut, you wait so you can adjust to his size. Seriously, how had you never noticed how big he was before now? Prematurely, Adam angles his hips and suddenly thrusts up into you, making you cry out in pain and pleasure.

“Oh you like that, bitch? Huh?” He says teasingly, running his hands up and down your back before moving his hips again.

“You have seriously got to learn to be quiet,” You retort through gritted teeth, reaching up to pull his hair from the roots. He lets out a groan, followed by a more pathetic whine as you begin to move on his length.

It must be all the pent up emotion, because you’re very quickly unable to speak beyond a few curses and wanton moans. Adam however, can’t seem to stop talking. Mumbling about how good you feel- for a whore, how he didn’t think you’d be so tight, how you’re so fucking sexy he wishes he’d done this sooner.

“Ugh, Adam- shut up!” You groan as you move desperately. He whines as you pull his hair again for emphasis, biting his lip as you feel his hips snap up into yours.

“Oh, god-“ You’re squealing, back arching as you can feel your whole body tense. You’re on top, but as you grow more limp, he’s holding you upright as he roughly fucks into you. “I’m close!” You warn, and it comes out a strangled sob.

You’re so, so close. Euphoria clouds your brain, and collapse onto him as he continues to hold you up to thrust into you.

You fall backwards, and Adam follows, caging you underneath him as he chases his own release now.

“oh- fuck- don’t stop!” You’re practically screaming as your orgasm crashes over you, and you wrap your arms around and claw at Adam desperately, fingernails leaving marks on his fleshy back. You only faintly register the breathless laugh he lets out at your state as he now pounds into you.

He slams into you with an intensity that forces the air out of your lungs, and even Adam can’t form thoughts or speak anymore.

“Oh, fu-uuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god,” He can’t believe the noises that are coming from him, but he also can’t find it in himself to care when you feel this good. You’re so sensitive, and still tight from your previous climax, and he can feel your pulse in the walls of your cunt as you clench around him.

Pleasure quickly turns to overstimulation, and you moan his name again, reaching up to pull at his hair, horns, wings, anything, as tears begin to prick at your eyes. Hearing you moan his name, seeing the look on your face, knowing he’s the one doing this to you is what he needed to send him over the edge.

“o-oh my god-“ he groans, hips stuttering as he presses his body as close to yours as possible, spilling his cum deeply inside of you with an actual moan.

He stays still for a moment, both of your breathing labored, sweat making your hair stick to your foreheads and necks, but you stay holding eachother. While both your brains are still fuzzy, thoughts muddled from the aftershocks, he takes a hand up and wipes your hair away from your face, and the tears from your eyes.

Eventually, he sits up and pulls out of you, rolling over to lay next to you on the bed. Neither of you say anything, too fucked out to think of the repercussions from your actions.

#!my stuff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #ok how do i tag this…#first man adam #first man adam x reader #idfk idc #!not sfw #female reader #this is like so cringe LMFAO #it’s ok tho idc😜

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sheyfu · 2 months ago

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pretty boy

𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 you comfort a crying akaashi keiji

feat. post-timeskip akaashi keiji (wife!reader)

cw: ooc; kinda rushed AAAAAAAAA (i still dont know how to pace my stories i will cry); mentions of wanting to commit mass murder; proofread but not really

prompt. free write! i had sm fun w this NYEHEHEHEH (based on this req <33) note. self-indulgent; my second piece for @lia-loves's flufftober event! this is also for the anon who requested for akaashi's version of 'i love my man', which i orginally wrote as a piece for reo from bllk! if you'd like to check it out (shamless plug LAMSODMAD), you can click on the link^ tbh this is super rushed bc i dont know how to pace my stuff but we ball LMADAOMDS AND GANG IK THIS IS OOC BUT IM SOMEONE WHO BELIEVES AKAASHI'S NONCHALANT SKIBIDI RIZZLER AURA DISSIPATES (omg big word) IN FRON OF YOU yes. read for a banger 🙏 wc. 940 (and again.. lia... i know you said don't write an essay but... huheuueh)

contrary to popular belief, being an editor for a shonen manga magazine isn’t an easy job. yes, you get to laze around until your talent submits their work to you for further checking, but only if you knew how difficult it was to work with crammers, then you’d see the hell these editors go through each passing day.

the amount of pestering you’d have to do just to receive mediocre pieces of art and an even-more-mediocre storyline that you can’t help but cry to (not that it’s unusable or course. it just needs a little (a lot) of revision :]), and the amount of times you’d have to apologize to the big bosses for the delay brings tears to the eyes of each and every editor.

personally, you’ve never experienced any of those hardships. your life as a legal practitioner is pretty smooth-sailing—save for the fact that some clients are a bit hard headed of course—but other than that, your life is a-okay!

and adding onto the fact that you’re happily wed to your husband of eight years, mr. akaashi keiji, you’d say you're pretty much content with life right now.

speaking of husband, is akaashi keiji happy with his life? definitely! a happy wife = happy life!

and how about his work life? uhhhh, not so much.

“die die die die die die die”

the door to your apartment bursts open as a slumped figure walks in carelessly kicking his shoes in some corner of your little foyer. hearing the concerning amount of grumbles coming from your husband interrupt your little staring contest with the very demonic cat shaped cookies you decided to bake to pass time.

“keiji? you alright over there?” furrowing your eyebrows at the lack of response, you trudge to the living room to check up on your beloved.

“keiji? my love– what-”

only to see the biggest shocker of your life: a crying akaashi keiji.

now, keiji has cried a bunch of times in front of you; whether those tears have been from happiness or sadness, you’ve seen them all. you’ve also seen him go into little tantrums whenever he has his crying sessions; most of the time, these are due to his rather.. unruly clients. but no, tonight’s different. never in your life have you seen your akaashi keiji cry and be in hysterics at the same time.

“i can’t do this anymore!” continuous sobs rip out from the man in front of you—his bloodshot eyes being a telltale sign that he’s been crying even before he getting your shared apartment.

oh dear..

upon reaching his knelt down form on the floor, you join him to litter his face with kisses. “hey now.. don’t cry please. i hate seeing you cry.” patting his head and engulfing him in a big hug, you continue to land kisses on his head.

only to be grabbed by the shoulders. “w- woah!”

“no, wife! i- i really can’t do it!” exasperated claims continuously spew out of his mouth—his cries seemingly getting worse and worse. “these… these vermins! they’re ruining my life! and that’s not even it! they also—”

comforting a crying husband on your chest isn’t part of your nightly routine. what also isn’t part of your routine is being gripped to death by said crying husband.

“i swear.. i swear to god, wife. i’ll actually throw my sketchbook at them the next time we meet.” keiji’s hoarse voice sounds from your chest; little sniffles coming out from him as you console your weeping spouse.

oh keiji.. my sweet, sweet keiji..

“look at me, keiji.” said man raises his head up to meet your gaze. cupping his cheeks to bid the tears goodbye, you offer him a smile, “i know you’re mad– very mad—and i get you! it’s totally valid to feel like this” swiping your thumbs to get rid of the stray tears, you continue, “i’m sorry this happened to you, keiji. you know i’m not the best with words, but to try and bring comfort to you, i could join you if you do decide to wreak havoc in the office. you with your sketchbooks, me with my thousand page law books. how does that sound, hmm?”

a small smile appears on his face—a sight you’ve seen each day, yet something you’ve never grown accustomed to.

“really? you’d do that with me?” the smile on his face grows; eyes lighting up with glee as he takes in your words.

feeling a hot flush creep up on your face, you can’t help but utter your next words unwittingly, “you’re so pretty, keiji.” a few beats of silence pass as you process your own words.

well shit.

“o- oh, sorry! i didn’t mean to say that.. well! i mean you are pretty… really pretty actually, but–” small, yet resounding giggles stop your flow of speech.

“even after eight years of being together, you still get flustered saying compliments” giggles-turned-to-laughter now escape from an akaashi keiji—his hand clutching his stomach as he slaps the bed.

“hey! don’t be mean! it’s not my fault you’re so pretty..” you start sulking as you take in the sight of your now laughing husband, seemingly enjoying your flustered state.

as his laughter slowly comes to a halt, his next words surprise you even more.

“well. to make it even.. you’re really, really beautiful too, wife” a grin appears on akaashi keiji’s face as he kisses your forehead.

your eyes widen as you process his words.

me… beautiful… i’m… he thinks… he said i’m beautiful..

“stop your dirty tricks, keiji! this was supposed to be me comforting you— mmph!”

he cuts you off with a kiss.

linking lia's flufftober event here!!

✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡ ✧˖°ʚ🍓ɞ♡

please check her event and works out!!

🐈‍⬛️: gang first time writing for hq and I KNOW IM VERY MUCH AWARE that it's ooc LMAODMAOSDGIOA BUT EVEN SO, I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED MWAWMAMWA. i won't add hq to my taglist (yet. i'll still see LAMDOAMD), but shamless self plug LAMSDOAMSD if you'd like to be part of my taglist(s) for blue lock, honkai star rail, ace of diamond, kaiju no 8 and/or genshin, please access the gform link below <3

#🐈‍⬛️.scorebook #🏐.haikyuu #🧠.akaashi keiji #hq #haikyu x reader #haikyu #hq x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

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kt-the-lee · 10 months ago

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No Longer Ruined - Hazbin Hotel Tickle Fic (HuskerDust)

A/N hi everyone!! this is my first fanfic on this account, i used to write a fair bit on my old deactivated account but I stopped for a couple years so i’m a little bit rusty, but i just love these two so much that i simply HAD to write for them! (this was also really self-indulgent for me to write so i hope you enjoy AHHHHH)

inspired by this post by @duckymcdoorknob : “We interrupt our usual programming to bring forth Angel Dust who is terrified of being tickled (bc of Val) until Husk shows him that it doesn’t have to always be torturous.”

Lee!AngelDust, Ler!Husk

warnings: very brief mentions of Angel’s job (not very much detail but important context to the story), sad!Angel

Word count: 2,133

One thing about Angel Dust is that he HATED being tickled.

Well, that wasn’t a complete truth. It was his favourite thing in the world once upon a time, but then it got ruined by various jobs that Val made him undergo. And that did make him quite sad, he wished he could have it in his life again, but he feared it was associated with one too many bad memories at this point.

And now, the thought of it terrified him.

This was made all too apparent when Charlie (the resident tickle monster of the Hazbin Hotel) decided to attack Vaggie in the middle of the lobby one afternoon. This was a regular occurrence, and everyone usually watched fondly as the usually stoic Vaggie let herself laugh (that is until the tables turned and Charlie then gets absolutely destroyed, she may initiate most tickle fights but usually ends up spectacularly losing them!). However, this was the first time Angel had witnessed this spectacle.

And he just couldn’t bring himself to watch.

The laughs mixed with screams, the squirming, the panicked breathing, it just sent him to a dark place. Where the masses chuckled and cooed at the girlfriends’ antics, Angel felt his breathing hitch and an unpleasant anxiety building in his stomach. Tears pricked in his eyes and he tried to inconspicuously leave the room, unnoticed. Or so he thought.

“Hey, what’s up, you okay?”

Angel turned around and saw Husk, head tilted, a concerned look on his face. Panic shot through him; “oh shit, did everyone notice me leave? That must’ve looked REALLY fucking weird, how am I going to explain-”

“Relax, nobody else saw you go,” Husk said gently, sitting on a nearby couch and directed Angel to take the place next to him. “Everyone was far too distracted watching those dumbasses wreck each other, although it’s a frequent occurrence it does never get boring!” he chuckled as the laughter from the lobby turned up a notch, but then frowned when he saw Angel visibly flinch at the sound.

“I’ve… never seen ‘em do this before,” he explained as he took the seat next to Husk, tensing up slightly as a paw was placed around his shoulders but immediately relaxed. He trusted Husk, perhaps more than anyone in this godforesaken place. But could he explain this?

Husk looked at the spider with concern in his eyes. He was triggered, clearly, but he couldn’t quite piece together why the girls tickling each other had caused this.

“Do you wanna talk about it, Angel? We don’t gotta, but you know I’d never judge you for anything. We’re both losers, don’t ya forget that, so nothing is off-limits.”

Angel looked up at the cat, debating for a full minute as to whether he was going to indulge. However, as he heard Charlie squeal from the room over from them and physically had to hide his head in his hands, he figured an explanation was desrved.

“I… just…” he stuttered, trying to find the words. “They’ve been ruined for me.”

Husk looked slightly confused. “What have? Tickles?”

“Yeah… there was a week-long shoot a few years back, and it always got taken too far. Lotta ignoring of safewords and not stopping even though I begged and begged and begged, my body felt like it was going to shut down-“ Angel shuddered as he remembered. “I’ve done a lot of weird shit for this job, Husk, ya know? And you know I love to relinquish control. But this, by far, was the one time I felt the most trapped and suffocated.”

The usually stoic Husk felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. Sure, tickling was torturous, that was the POINT. But it was also supposed to have an aspect of fun and trust and love behind it, and the fact that Val had taken that from him made him both upset and absolutely fuming.

“Fuck me, that’s intense.” Husk couldn’t find the words for awhile. “And also fully understandable as to why you’d be triggered now.”

A scream and a giggly “NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEERE” from Charlie in the other room made Angel tense somehow harder than he was before, and Husk tightened his hold around his shoulders.

“If it’s any reassurance, the girls’ dumba ass tickle fights are nothing like that, there’s a lot of silliness and love behind it and it would never ever get taken that far” said Husk, trying to reassure the spider. “Infact, I’m fairly sure they both love every second of it, no matter how much they protest in the moment.”

“Oh I know that, really I do.” said Angel. “ I know what they’re MEANT to be like, it’s like I said, they were ruined for me.”

Oh?

So that meant…

“You used to like being tickled?” Husk enquired, a slight grin in his voice as he enjoyed the thought of his sweet spider enjoying something so silly. That thought was fleeting as he realised how that was no longer true because of his job, and Val. God. the things he could do to that bastard for breaking Angel like this…

Angel nodded, cheeks burning slightly. “A whole lot, used to ask Cherry for it all the time. But I fear I’m too far gone now, I’m too scared it’ll go too far and people won’t stop.” Angel sighed, and flinched again as the laughter somehow got EVEN LOUDER through the walls (what on EARTH was Vaggie doing to Charlie?). “I want to like it again, I do think about it a lot still.”

“We can try now, if you like?”

Husk looked into Angel’s eyes to gauge his reaction. He couldn’t tell by that one sentence if he had just put the fear of god into him, or hit the nail on the head with exactly the best way to fix this.

Angel couldn’t tell, either. On the one hand, the thought of being tickled again terrified him. He had managed to avoid it as much as he could outside of work, and even in work he would try and steer the content towards other things. However, he knew deep down that he wanted this back in his life. He trusted Husk, so maybe this would be the perfect way to ease back into it? He deliberated, and made his decision.

“Yeah… okay.”

Husk breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t overstepped a boundary, and felt the grin returning to his face as he figured out the best way to do this.

“Anything I should know before we try this out? Now is the time for boundaries, my little spider-” said Husk, a teasing tone already etched into his voice which made Angel chuckle and roll his eyes.

“Stop when I tell you to-“

“That’s a given, dumbass, I was gonna do that anyway.”

That made Angel relax, he wasn’t used to people listening to his pleas. Maybe this would actually be okay…

“Oh… okay! Uhhhh, no foot stuff please, that was always Val’s… yeah. Favourite. So that’d probably send me into a panic.”

He thought for a second.

“Otherwise…. youregoodtogo-“ he mumbled as he buried his face in Husk’s chest, preparing himself. Oh god, what if this was a bad idea? What if he just hated it no matter what? What if he yelled at or hurt Husk? What if-

All thoughts in his head were silenced as the paw that was placed on his shoulder began to walk ever-so-gently around his bicep. Husk traced his entire upper arm slowly and delicately, before moving all the way round to where Angel’s underarm met his ribcage.

“This okay?”

Angel could only nod, a trace of a smile forming on his lips as Husk began to lightly scritch the spot. Nothing too intense, nothing that would overhelm him. But it couldn’t be ignored.

Husk felt the spider tense up below him as he used one claw to dance lazy, gentle circles around Angel’s ribcage. He glanced down to make sure he was okay, but it seemed to be more of a tickly flinch than an uncomfortable jerk away, so he persisted, adding more claws to slowly intensify the sensation.

It was then that he heard it.

The giggles.

And it was just the sweetest sound Husk had ever heard.

In fact, he got so distracted by the sound of Angel’s giggles that he subconsciously stopped tickling him to listen. Which, of course, stopped the giggles.

“Hey, ya didn’t need to stop!” said Angel, surprising himself.

“Oh I know… I just got distracted by something” chuckled Husk, beginning the movement of his claws again, as slow and as gentle as before. Angel tensed and giggled again, but didn’t seem to be protesting too much.

Angel had missed this. He had missed being in a safe place where he was free to be held and just let someone dote on him for a bit. Head empty, no control, no expectations, to just relax and feel happy. He couldn’t help his arm flinching against Husks gentle tickles around his ribcage, but he also noticeably lent into both Husk himself and his paws on his ribs.

Husk took this positive body language and gentle giggles to turn it up a notch, scratching with slightly more intent and pressure, making wigging motions with his paw. He also walked his fingers down from Angel’s ribcage to the sides of his stomach.

The spider’s gentle giggles quickly became slightly louder laughs as Husk did this, and initially felt a zap of panic. However, it was impossible to feel unsafe in the arms of the cat, so he let himself feel the sensations. It wasn’t TOO intense, but it was certainly enough for him to squirm and cackle, especially when Husk added a second paw to mirror his actions on the opposite side at the same time.

“Hehehehehey!!” laughed Angel. “Thahahahat was uncahahahahalled for!!”

“Oh was it now?” teased Husk, feeling a little more confident that he wouldn’t end up overwhelming Angel at this point. “Because I don’t hear you protesting, baby. Infact, I’d probably say you’re having a pretty swell time right now!”

“Shuhuhuhut uhuhuhup” protested Angel, cheeks burning redder than the skies of Hell itself. “Teheheheasing mahahahahakes it wOHOHOHORSE-“

Upon the last word of his sentence, Husk moved both of his tickling paws to the front of his stomach, spidering the spider’s belly like there was no tomorrow. Angel SQUEALED, throwing his head back into Husk’s shoulder as he tried and failed to whine about quite how mean he was being right now.

Despite this, there was one thing that Angel couldn’t deny. Fucking hell, he could never deny how much he’d missed this. To be able to enjoy being tickled again without the fear of boundaries being disrespected and his every part of his body panicking as strangers took advantage of him, under Val’s perverted instruction.

“You doing okay down there?!” Husk chuckled, checking in as Angel arched his back and fell backwards onto the couch. Husk had one paw kneading into an armpit whilst the other made various shapes into his tummy. This seemed to be a killer combination as Angel snorted in his cackles and basically folded his body in half.

The cat slowed his attack to let Angel catch his breath, which may have been perfect timing as the spider managed to breathe out a “Stohohop nohohoho mohohore” through his depleting giggles. This made Husk briefly panic, thinking he had took it too far and this had all been for nothing. But the persistent grin and sniling eyes of Angel reassured him that he hadn’t put a foot wrong. Or, rather, a paw wrong.

“Thahahahat was fun” said Angel, residual giggles still pouring from his mouth as he sat himself up, rubbing the leftover tickly feelings away from his torso. “Might take a few goes and a bit of practice, but it certainly is an improvement to fifteen minutes ago!”

Husk felt his heart melt as Angel cuddled back into him and, as the room silenced, the laughter from Charlie and Vaggie’s ordeal STILL could be heard through the walls. However, now it made Angel smile fondly as opposed to being terrified for his life.

“How are they STILL going?” pondered Husk, shaking his head fondly at the sounds from the other room

Angel shrugged, and laughed as he heard Charlie let out a noise not too dissimilar to a squeal that he himself had produced moments earlier. “Shall we go and observe?”

Husk grinned and nodded, tweaking Angel’s side before taking his hand. Angel flinched and tutted at the cat, but couldnt hide the endearing look in his eyes as they ventured back into the lobby to observe the girlfriends tickle fight.

It certainly was a happy day in Hell.

#hazbin tickles #hazbin hotel tickle #lee!angeldust #ler!husk #tickle community #sfw tickle #sfw tickle community #sfw tickling #tickle fic #tickle fanfic #huskerdust tickles #tickles #tickle #sfw tk community #sfw tk blog

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patrophthia · 2 years ago

Text

do not make him ‘go away’ | tom riddle

pairing: tom riddle x hufflepuff!reader

genre: literally just fluff and comedy (bc i love turning dark morally grey character into soft babies), superrrr self indulgent, not beta read.

word count: 4.6K

originally posted on wattpad: a while back lol

"i got knocked off my feet not amnesia."

the corner of his lips perked up at her comment, such a small motion that she almost didn't notice.

"i'll keep that in mind." and then, with a disappointed look thrown at malfoy, riddle asked her, "is he bothering you?"

"kind of," she answered slowly, not trusting where this conversation would go. "why?"

riddle ignored her question, opting on following up with his own instead, "do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

or the trope simply the trope of grumpy reluctant boyfriend and bubbly/fun girlfriend.

she had always loved defense against the dark arts. don't get her wrong, the classes and lessons were always great. professor thea was good at her job, teaching them both the theoretical and physical studies that is needed from the subject.

but now, as she landed flat on her butt, she hated the subject more than she could ever imagine. malfoy was a terrible dueling partner, taking every possible chance to knock her off her feet.

"do you want me to go easy on you badger?" he asked tauntingly, towering over her.

she looked up at him —half expecting for him to offer a hand but he only smirked at her. "you're a dick."

"i sure am." he only watched her struggle with amusement.

there was a scoff from besides him and within a split second he was being nudged over. replacing him was the head boy, leaning down to look at her with furrowed eyebrows. he offered her a hand; one which she took and lifted herself up.

she muttered a quick thanks, not sparing him a look whilst she busied herself with wiping soot off of her clothes. looking back up, she found him gazing at her.

"what's your name?" he asked after a minute, watching her with skepticism.

"[name]?" she replied, unsure. he knew her name, surely he did, they had partnered up during sixth year for a potions project and he can't have forgotten it in the span of one year could he? "i thought you already knew that."

"i did." riddle pursed his lips, nodding to himself. "i just wanted to make sure you knew your name."

she scoffed, giving him a dirty look. "i got knocked off my feet not amnesia."

the corner of his lips perked up at her comment, such a small motion that she almost didn't notice.

"i'll keep that in mind." and then, with a disappointed look thrown at malfoy, riddle asked her, "is he bothering you?"

"kind of," she answered slowly, not trusting where this conversation would go. "why?"

riddle ignored her question, opting on following up with his own instead, "do you want me to get rid of him for you?"

if it were anyone else she would've laughed it off as a joke but tom riddle has this ominous thing about him, one that put you slightly on edge, making it seem as though he would actually follow through with his threat.

so —as annoying as malfoy was, she told him. "no." and then, slightly terrified that she would wake up tomorrow with the news that abraxas malfoy had mysteriously gone missing, she added as a precaution, "don't kill him."

she wasn't sure if she was joking or genuinely scared that riddle would do it for her sake. no matter how much he would deny it, to her —he seemed like a feminist, never failing to hand detentions out to male students who mistreated girls. so killing his cult follower for a woman wouldn't be far from how she characterized of him.

"not unless i'm dying then you can kill him."

it was barely a month later when the same occurrence happened; malfoy was her dueling partner once more, malfoy shot her a spell at her that had her landing on the floor, malfoy mocking her for apparently being a 'weak' dueler, riddle pushing him over and offering her a helping hand.

asking her, "can i kill him now?"

to which she replied, without fail. "no."

riddle gave her a dissatisfied look but kept his hands off of malfoy nonetheless, respecting her request.

why he listened to what she said, she couldn't answer.

not until he asked her to call him tom (or maybe something else a significant other would use), not until tom asked to be her boyfriend, not until tom reluctantly agreed to trail after her on a trip to hogsmeade with her friends.

it seems as though tom could never say no to her.

"are you ready?" she asked, peeking her head inside of his dormitory's door.

tom whipped his head around from where he stood in front of his mirror, looking less than excited to be going out today. "yes."

"great," she tried to stop herself from squealing, pushing the door open so she could approach his side. "i can't wait for you to meet them, they think i'm lying to them about you."

tom fully turned himself to face her, giving her a once over and taking in how she looked.

pretty.

as always.

he felt something flutter in his chest, pride for having her? excitement in finally going to honey dukes after hearing so much about it? the hope of being able to convince her to let him make malfoy go away? love?

no it can't be. he was conceived after a love potion, he can't love. feeling slightly frustrated with himself, tom grumbled, "stop looking at me like that."

she furrowed her brows, curious by what he meant. "like what?"

"like you have feelings for me."

"tom," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose out of irritation. "i'm literally your girlfriend, i'm supposed to have feelings for you."

tom blinked. her telling him that she was his girlfriend shouldn't have felt as good as he did. what the fuck is wrong with him. defeatedly, he muttered, "i'm breaking up with you."

"yeah sure you are."

•••

"so how long have you been going out?" rae asked, acting oblivious as if [name] hadn't told her every single detail about their relationship.

she smiled, nudging for tom to answer.

tom took a deep breath. a response that rae was silently hoping for after hearing about just how grumpy and moody tom was from her friend. trying to tease him without doing so much as saying anything provoking.

he then smiled, turning on his charms in order to converse. "five months and thirteen days."

trying to get under her boyfriend's skin, [name] frowned, feigning confusion. "five months?"

"yes." tom cleared his throat, glaring at her. "and thirteen days."

"is that right?" rae questioned, trying to irk him. "[name] told me you've only been together for three months."

the slytherin turned to her, his face showing offense. "you did?"

"i love the weather this morning," she said instead, trying to distract him.

yet tom was persistent, he knew they were having a laugh, he wasn't daft, but it certainly didn't feel good to hear rae say what she said. "did you?"

"merlin isn't it crowded today?" she ignored him, looking out the carriage's window as it pulled to halt. she opened the door, landing on solid ground before looking back to where she was sat. with a tilt of her head, she signaled for them to exit as well. "what are you waiting for?"

tom sulked as he got off the carriage, a small pout on his lips. "are you going to answer me?"

she looked down the streets, seeing it packed with people from left to right before turning to him, letting her hand find his and interlocking it. "no."

tom felt a urge to pull his hand away, not used to PDA but it felt so right, so right that he went against his better judgement and mumbled something so stupid he mentally facepalmed himself. "why are you touching me?"

she only giggled in response, noting the confuse tone he had instead of being vexed by his words. "so i wouldn't lose you. you can't expect me to keep track of you with this many people around, can you? i can't lose my boyfriend."

not when he was a dark wizard who was constantly reminded that killing people is a morally wrong thing to do. "what if you start finding people to join your little fan club?"

having to tell him to not use the basilisk for salazar slytherin's quote-unquote unfinished business was hard enough for her to handle, let alone telling forty —maybe even fifty others, that it was a wrong action to take.

maybe it was her 'i can fix him' mentality but in all honesty, tom has been behaving way better ever since they'd gotten together then aragog has all year. and yes, she knew it was wrong to compare a human to an acromantula but when the said human was conceived under a love potion and has no real concept of what love is.

if he was as good as a spider, he was good to go.

"you say that like i'm evil," tom murmured, barely audible due to the loud chatter hogsmeade provided.

"you're not?" she countered incredulously. "didn't you say you wanted horcruxes despite knowing what it takes to make one?"

"yeah but . . ." he trailed off, finding himself at a loss of a word. "i didn't end up making one, idiot."

what an endearing nickname. "that doesn't make it any better, tom. you still thought about it."

"but i didn't make it."

•••

being head boy brought tom gossip. whether he cared for it or not, it always follows him. he had heard every rumors there was, knowing them thoroughly from start to finish. tom never bothered to care about them, not until he found himself becoming friends with a group of girl who would talk their heads of about anything.

with a "come in!" from his girlfriend, tom opened the door to her dorm room. he shut it behind him, eyes roaming around to try and find her. finally his eyes landed on where she sat by her desk, head low, crouching over a long strip of parchment.

"walburga and orion are betrothed." he stated, standing by her side.

"what?" rae screamed before she could, power walking out of the bathroom with her tooth brush in hand. "the blacks?"

"who else," tom said with a roll of his eyes.

that caught her attention, she turned to him, curiosity written all over her face. "aren't they cousins?"

"they're pure-bloods, inbreeding is in their genes," came octavia, [name]'s dormmate and friend who was nicer than rae would ever be. then, with a look of distaste, she added, "how could they force an engagement on orion? he's literally a fifth year while walburga graduated last year. it's disgusting."

"well," rae snickered, "what else would we expect from the black family?"

"i also caught macmillan and weasley are snogging on my rounds today," tom said, sitting down on his girlfriend's bed. "asked me to keep it a secret but there's only so much to be kept in the chamber."

rae chortled, hand covering her mouth. "you know, in my native language they would call you ប្រុសមាត់ក្តួយ (pronounced pros-moit-kdouy)."

[name]'s brow knitted along with tom's, narrowing their eyes at rae. "what does that mean?"

rae only giggled, sitting up on her bed with octavia listening it. "it technically means 'a man who can't keep his mouth shut about drama' in khmer but the literal translation is a guy with a vagina for a mouth."

"what the fuck." tom muttered, eyes wide. the three girls in the room bursted out laughing, that must've been the first time they'd ever hear him curse. "why would you call me that?"

"because you are," rae countered.

"i'm not!" he argued, "you just called me a labia."

"she never called you a labia," came [name] from his side, "you called yourself that."

"i-" tom paused, unable to tell if he himself was angry, annoyed, amused or disgusted by their conversation. "i don't like you guys anymore."

"you're welcome to leave any time you want," rae quipped, gesturing towards the door. "or find new friends."

octavia changed the topic, done with their bantering and told them about a story with a guy she'd met. apparently they'd been going out for a total of three months, keeping it a secret, before he cheated on her.

she was mad at him but he made it seem as if it was her fault; telling her that what she heard was true but he couldn't stop about thinking them. and he knows that she's been there a few time as well, insinuating that octavia could ever do something as wrong as cheating.

there was a look tom shot his girlfriend when octavia finished recalling everything that happened between her and chris marsh.

[name] sighed, knowing why exactly he gave her the look and shook her head. "no."

"but-"

"no buts," she interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose with frustration, "you cannot kill him. we talked about this tom."

"i know but he's hurting her," he pointed out, "and she's your friend so. . ."

"tom please," she pleaded, "no killing is justifiable unless one of us in danger with actual death."

"promise me i won't wake up to find out that marsh is missing."

"i promise that you won't wake up to find out that marsh is missing," said tom defeatedly.

•••

tom looked ridiculously stupid, he knew that. he sighs, feeling rae smearing wet paint on his face. the things he did for his girlfriend.

if you were to go back in time to tell tom riddle that he would be sitting on a chair getting his face painted black and yellow for a quidditch game, he'd think you were having a laugh and cast a killing curse at you.

but now, being told repeatedly to, "stay still you pesky snake" by his girlfriend's friend as she watched the two of them interact without the smallest hint of jealousy, tom —he would never ever in a million years admit this— couldn't be happier.

there was such a soft domestically about it, him getting along with her friend without the urge to kill rae or for rae to kill him, knowing that they were friends who just liked to threatened one another was more than anything tom could ask for.

he felt good, despite the uncomfortableness that came with donning a different set of colors. he (surprisingly) didn't care that he wasn't dressed in green in silver, being more than happy to be supporting her.

after finally being let go by rae; tom stood up, facing his girlfriend. with a tilt to his head, he asked her, "i thought i could be very persuasive until i met you."

"never thought i'd be going to quidditch game, let alone support another house." his eyes then glanced to a mirror that stood besides her, taking in his own appearance. salazar, rae must be taking the piss, he looked like a clown. eyes shifting back to her, he asked tiredly, "are you happy now?"

"i am if you are," she responded, taking a step towards him."i'm not," tom grumbled truthfully, not hiding a single ounce of annoyance. she shrugged, smiling. "that's too bad, i take back what i said. i'm happy now."

the three made their way out of her dorm and into the hufflepuff's common room to meet up with octavia. tom eyes quickly roamed the room, surprised by how many of the students who were spending their time there was from another house.

from his quick scan, tom had managed to count a total of five slytherins. three of which who were visibly miserable, face painted yellow with their friend or significant other beaming besides them. and the other two, being the ones who were forcing face paint onto their ravenclaw and gryffindor friends.

no matter how much time he'd spent welcomed in the hufflepuff common room. tom would never understand how they could be so comfortable with letting anyone enter whenever they pleased. that would not flow well with the slytherins.

up the great hall they went, passing the grand entrance before leaving the castle entirely and making their way to the quidditch pitch.

with a kiss on tom's cheek, an action that had his eyes widening and face flushed red, she bid him, rae, and octavia a goodbye before making her way into the changing room.

rae led the way towards the stands, fighting with tom about where the appropriate seat for him would be.

"no not in the slytherin section," rae argued, trying to find the best place for their group of three. "how could you be the head boy and be so stupid?"

"you're sitting in the hufflepuff row where your girlfriend would be looking for support from," she said with a tone of obviousness, finally settling down at a place she found best suited for the three of them. "honestly."

the match ended quickly, she'd had spotted the snitch within the first thirty minutes of the game before she started her pursuit and caught it in the next four minutes.

gryffindor lost by a hundred and ten points and without consciously knowing it, tom found himself cheering loudly for her, his voice was overpowered by rae but it was the thoughts that count.

there was a flash from his side, he turned, finding octavia giggling with a polaroid in hand. she wordlessly offered it to him. tom took it, curious as what he would find on it.

the picture developed bit by bit, revealing tom in frozen cheerful state, eyes bright as he watched the scene before him, his forehead was yellow, his mouth gaping with its corner tipping upwards. behind him was rae, on her feet with her hands pressed against the railing, frantically screaming at something the picture couldn't fully depict.

"you're not keeping it." octavia told him. "it's for [name]."

octavia then slipped a hand into her pocket, picking out a new picture and handed it to him. "you can have this though."

inspecting it, tom found a picture of himself frowning on his girlfriend's bed. she sat besides him, laughing as if her life depended on it, her head was thrown back, a hand clutching onto her stomach.

tom pocketed the picture, smiling to himself. "when did you take this?"

"when she told you to not make marsh 'go away'."

•••

graduation came and tom was quick to ask her to move in with him. she was skeptical at first, reasoning with him that neither of them had jobs that provided enough for them to have a financially stable home, but that idea was shot down when tom told her that the ministry had already reached out to him.

offering him a job that would let them live a comfortable life. they moved in together shortly after, finding a small cottage that looked perfect for the two.

she was able to turn her hobbies into a job, making her more than just happy. by 1950, tom —with all his slytherin ambitions— found his way to the top, earning the position of minister of magic.

it was late when tom came home, having to run over a last-minute case that malfoy presented him. he shrugged his coat off, trying to be quiet as to not wake his (still) girlfriend up. tom found his way into their bedroom where he found the en-suite door wide opened, he walked forward trying to take peek.

inside was her stood in front of the mirror, taking off her make up with a cotton pad when she spotted him, her eyes shifted to him for a second before turning back to herself. "how was work?"

"it was good," he answered, tugging at his tie. and then he furrowed his brows, lip tugged underneath his teeth. quietly, he muttered, "let's get married."

she blinked rapidly, not believing her own ears, she whipped around with a small noise of confusion, facing him. "what did you say?"

"let's get married," he repeated casually, finally getting his tie off. "are you proposing to me?" she asked him."yes." he nodded. "i thought that was clear."

"so yes or no?"

the wedding took place two years later, with it being repeatedly postponed due to tom's work but it was perfect nonetheless. they had friends and coworkers (that they actually liked) at the ceremony. rae teased tom endlessly, not once giving him a break for taking so long to propose.

in 1959, octavia invited them to dinner at her house, her and husband having an announcement for them all to hear. but before she got to the good part, octavia told her about some of the not-so-good news.

her husband, dawn, was recently bitten by a werewolf. he was having a hard time experiencing the transitions during the full moon so they had a request for them.

now here comes the good news along with her favor: octavia was pregnant, she was four weeks long and since it was only her and dawn.

she will be needing help.

"that's all?" rae asked, frowning. isn't it already implied that rae, her, and tom would all help her when she'd gotten herself knocked up? "you know you needn't ask right? i will be spoiling that child rotten."

octavia smiled, feeling relief. why did she even feel nervous in the first place? these were her friends, the same ones who collectively bullied every man she's ever broken up with. they will always have her back. "that's all."

and then she added, "i just thought it might be a burden to you guys. it's just- it will be hard since dawn would have to recover from the full moon and i'd have to work, so i need people who i can trust to babysit the kid sometimes."

"you could never be a burden," [name] said, "not when i can be the cool aunt."

"oh please," rae let out a loud cackle, "you would never be the cool aunt. that's me."

octavia gave birth on november, 3rd, 1959 to a lovely girl named clementine calla azure. the same day that the blacks welcomed their first son, sirius orion black. rae (would lie if you ever pointed this out to her) was ecstatic when clementine turned out cuter than the black's son did.

she, liked she had stated months prior, spoiled the child to death. buying it everything it could possibly want, babysitting it every time octavia even looked like she needed help.

octavia —instead of using the time to relax, spent her time creating a wolfsbane potion. making the potion was a tedious process but she had more than enough time from tom changing clementine's diaper because he, despite being forced, had promised that he would also help with her baby.

rae was an author who made enough for herself to live lavishly. apparently, muggles really love the story about a dark wizard trying to kill a little kid for his chance to be immortal.

"so," rae clapped with clementine prompted on her hip. tom, dawn, octavia and [name] were all scattered around the living room, sitting down and listening to rae as she stood. "you're probably wondering why i called you all over."

there were noises of confirmation before rae started up again. "i've been doing some research lately and there's more people who has been involuntary bitten than you would think. basically what i'm saying is that tom —since you're the god of magic or whatever— needs to draw up a new bill where werewolves would be known by the ministry and themselves only so the ministry can provide help."

"werewolves tend to have a hard time finding work and keeping the job since they would have to recover every full moon and miss work days. the potion octavia created is going to be recorded in the history book, we know that, but something else that should be recorded in history is how the lovely tom riddle —who i definitely like and doesn't want to have a one v one with— made a law or whatever, where if a werewolf is legally signed in with the ministry, they get a wolfsbane potion provided by the ministry by owl every month."

"they're extremely costly rae, and they take a ridiculous amount of time to make." dawn was quick to point out the flaw, understanding this topic more than anyone else in the room. "not to mention how there's millions of people like me out there, we won't be able to get them to everybody."

"tom is like the zeus of magic," rae said, slightly irritated that they didn't just agree right of the bat. "if he just created a lab and put twenty of the best witches and wizards in there with large pots and get it brewing, they can make it work. and as for the products needed, there's always herbologists that needs work —not trying to stereotype but most of them are hufflepuffs, they would take the chance to help without even thinking twice."

"it will work, trust me," rae said, almost pleading, "what do you say, riddle?"

the law, or bill, or whatever it was, was put into place shortly after. werewolves were scared and skeptical at first, always having been labeled as monsters until eventually people started piling in for help and they were given what they needed. octavia loved her new job at the ministry for it meant she could be helping out her husband and everyone like him whilst also having the freedom to invent whatever else she wanted.

"tavia brought clementine to work today," tom stated, making his way into their library. "so i've been thinking."

"oh no," she muttered, dropping her book onto her lap, "you never have good thoughts after seeing clementine."

tom tilted his head slightly, narrowing his eyes. "what do you mean?"

"last time you saw her, you decided that it was a good idea to have your basilisk follow after her when she grows up so she'd never get hurt," she answered, looking up at him as he stood before her.

tom shrugged. "i don't see any flaws in that plan, if anything i think it's the best thing for clementine."

"how can you be the minister of magic and be an absolute dumbass?" she laughed, feeling his hand reach down to rest on her cheek.

"because, i'm not," he said easily, eyes focused on hers, "and believe it or not i actually have a brilliant idea that you might actually like for once."

"alright," she muttered, amusing him, "what is it?"

"i think clementine should have a cousin."

"clementine already has a cousin—"

"that's not what i meant, idiot," tom cut her off, a small smile etching on his lips, "you know exactly what i'm trying to say. don't play dumb, pet."

"i actually don't know what you meant," she said matter-of-factly, feigning innocent, "please explain."

tom sighed. "i want us to try for a baby."

"i thought you hated kids."

"i do," he agreed, "but i also know that i wouldn't hate them if they were ours."

— from bee: this was very OOC but idc,,, fluffy tom or no tom ever (i have the i can fix him mentality)

#tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x yn #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x oc #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle x hufflepuff!reader #tom riddle fluff #tom riddle fic #tom riddle crack #Spotify #🧳: my writing

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fcthots · 1 year ago

Note

Please 🙏 give us more thoughts on the friends to lovers AU cause that's literally the one I have too.

-🌊

I’m assuming you mean my friend to ememies to lovers au. Tbh it’s super self indulgent but I’ll hit the high points for you. Heads up: it’s fem reader bc it came from my notes app as a personal au.

ANYWAY ONE THOUSAND FOLLOWERS WOOOOO

Basically reader hangs around Jason’s neighborhood through childhood

Immediately best friends

Jason sees you about twice a week for many many years

Side plot of Jason finding a new mafia in Gotham

One day Jason shows up unannounced to your house bc you do it to him all the time since he moved and he really needs to talk to you (haven’t decided what the emergency is yet)

You aren’t in your room and something looks wrong

He crawls in through the window and hears people yelling and arguing

He goes Robin mode and starts trying to figure out what happened

He follows the metaphorical tracks into the wall

Secret door

He spies and realizes your family is the mafia family he has had his eyes on

And you’re the topic of conversation

There’s an emergency with one of the fronts they have so the topic switches and they leave

Jason confronts you a week later after being weird and distant

He asks what they were talking about

You explain that you either have to join in on your family’s crimes or you’re going to have to live on the streets. They don’t want you working in the family bc you’re a woman.

(There’s a scrapped version where your family demands you to kill someone’s to pledge your loyalty and when Jason dies, you say you killed him)

He tells you he’ll take care of you. He’ll talk to Bruce. You can figure it out. You will figure it out, together. He reveals himself as Robin. There is a light at the end of the tunnel for you.

Then Jason dies

You find out from the news after you don’t see him for two weeks

You decide, fuck it. Nothing waiting for you outside of mafia life

Your family doesn’t want want u working for them. AND you started later than everyone else. Double whammy

Your family doesn’t trust you

You work twice as hard. You are determined to work your way up. You will survive

They give you low level assignments

You start doing side assign,ents that they don’t ask you to. You get them intel they didn’t know was there to get. Intel they didn’t know they needed

You start working your way up a twinge over the years

They send you in undercover as a stripper. Your job is to see if a rival gang comes in. The man you’re looking for has a deal there today.

The man is known as the Red Hood.

You don’t know Red Hood’s identity but he’s big in the game. A known killer. But a protector of women and the innocent. Your family HATES him.

The Red Hold walks in as well as his client

You switch places with someone and dance colder to their table sk you can hear their conversation

The Red Hood looks at you and freezes

In his head, he’s thinking you left the mafia, but because he died, no one was there to support you so you turned to stripping

He’s also thinking he missed you

You tell him that if he’s gonna stare at you like that, he better fork up some dollar bills

He tells his "client" to hold on for a moment

He walks up to you, voice modulator on and asks how much for a private dance

You make a joke about how he probably can't afford it

He says “I guarantee you I can”

Your "manager" walks over and says you have to take the money and do it, all in "subtle" wording

You’re nervous but agree

You lead him to his private room

And before you can try to make him horny enough to interrogate him, you turn around and his mask is off

You see his face

Older, but Jason

Someone is supposed to come to the club in 5 minutes and kill the "client" was making a deal with.

You can't let them kill Jason.

"You have to leave. Right now."

"What?" He's confused.

"Fuck. I'm so glad you're alive, but you have to go."

He tries to ask if you chose to be a stripper or if you were out of options

You say "I'm not a stripper"

He's confused. Thinks you’re maybe a prostitute.

"My brother is coming in 3 minutes to kill whoever *Client* was making a deal with so that he would be forced to make a deal with-... with us."

"You didn't"

“Dont. Don't do that. You were dead, Jason. And even ignoring that fact, you're not exactly far from the profession either."

"No. No, but you didn't want this. Your family treats you like shit"

“Better than the streets would have treated me... 2 minutes, Jason you have to go. Fuck. I'm gonna get demoted for this.”

Jason says he has a plan

You say it's too dangerous; you’re not losing him again

"Do you trust me?”

“…I still trust you"

He walks out and cancels the deal

He walks back in and says *Client* has to make his merchandise half price now, and with your ‘private dance’, you made it happen

He kisses your cheek and walks out

Your brother walks in and asks where he is, ready to be angry

You tell him to make the deal now, it's half off and that you convinced the other guy to walk

This is great success

You’re even given the weekend off

Jason waits until you leave late at night with the other girls

They're used to him showing up sometimes and walking them to their cars. They don't bat an eye

But he wordlessly gets in your car. Gets in the drivers seat, and drives you to his place, where you spend the weekend.

He tries to convince you to stay. You say you can't.

Because you want to take over the whole joint some day

So you go back do what you do

If you and Jason ever intersect, you go to your apartment together.

You fuck

He leaves for patrol before you wake up

He fucks you so you fall asleep and he can leave without saying goodbye

You fight.

YouI say you should stop.

You love him. If you keep going you’ll never love anyone else. You’ll never move on.

The truth is: you already love him like that, but if you keep fucking him, you won't be able to leave and it'll put a target on both of your backs

You fuck one last time and then he leaves

(He becomes a bat around this time)

He’s your enemy now

And you’re rising the ranks

214 notes · View notes

yeahspider · 3 days ago

Text

SWEET LIFE

A/n- this is so self indulgent. like seriously. maknae line x f. reader fluff yes plz! might get a hyung line version bc I like the concept (maybe if yall want it) but this is just a vibe so vibe with me. nsfw (weed mention) . enjoy and feel free to visit my inbox as I am taking requests. <3

Your apartment was a little crowded today. Considering it was everybody's off day. The boys decided to spend most of it at your place. Your apartment for them was a safe haven away from prying eyes and demanding schedules.

You didn't mind having them all over as you hated when you were alone. The noise they brought provided you a piece of comfort. After grueling rehearsals all week and your never-ending day job, this was a much-needed moment of peace.

“Someone take the scissors out of Jisung’s hand thank you very much!” you say as you prepare yourself for the task of taking down your braids. Your next appointment is in the upcoming week and you wanted to give your hair some time to breathe. With the length they're at, it was going to take a while. But of course, your boys are ever excited to help you out. Well most of them.

I feel like you’re scamming me babe.” says Seungmin as he grabs the scissors from Jisung. No one wanted to risk your wraith if he cut too high.

"I don't know what are you talking about Minnie I'd never scam you beloved," you say in your defense.

"yeah because five dollars is a completely reasonable nonscamming price," he says with a smile. Taking your braids gently out of the bonnet you had them in. Seungmin didn't want to pull on them if he could help it.

Jisung, now scissorless, took a seat beside you on the floor. Setting the blunt wraps on the coffee table in front of you. Preparing to roll for you and himself.

"I wish you would let me help more," he said with a pout on his face. You wanted to kiss it off him.

"you are helping sungie your presence is enough. It keeps me calm. Plus no one else rolls a blunt for me as good as you do." you comfort me as you kiss his now smiling lips. That seemed to satisfy him enough as he started the rolling process.

Felix came bounding into the living room from his napping spot in your room, flopping himself on the couch and picking up the remote to the TV. Channel surfing for something interesting to watch.

"Ugh, nothing is interesting to watch on TV. Felix complained while sliding down the couch to the floor as if he was melting in boredom.

"You could always just hook up the game and play Mario Kart or something. Go see if one of the boys wanna play with you," you suggested. Smiling at his antics as he crawled across the floor to give you a kiss. "You always have the best ideas, babe." He said as he practically skipped out of the room. Making your face flush at his praise. Just waving it off as Jisung teased you for your reaction.

A soft moan left your mouth as Seungmin got to the root of a braid. His hands gently unbraiding and giving your scalp a little rub to loosen up the tension. His hands felt so heavenly on your head after the rough week you had.

Felix took his time dragging a sleepy Jeongin into the room. It seems as if he found his gaming partner, although unwillingly. Going straight to the TV to set everything up, meanwhile, Jeongin sleepily made his way to you. Placing his head in your lap as he pulled himself closer to your stomach. You just laughed softly at his cat-like antics. Reminding you of a certain someone.

"Tell Felix to let me sleep." Jeongin groaned. His warm breath hits the exposed skin on your stomach. Hands hin his hair as you stroking softly.

"Now you know once Lix has his mind set on something there is no telling him anything." you comfort the boy.

"But I'm so tired and you're so warm and comfortable Don't make me go over there to that heathen."

Felix can get kind of crazy while gaming but before you could even suggest a solution the sunshine boy dragged the sleepy one out of your embrace. A groan erupts from the latter. There was no saving him now.

An object in front of your vision distracted you from the two gaming boys. It was the blunt Jisung rolled especially for you. To take the edge off a rough week. Encouraging you to take a hit he placed it right between your lips. Murmurung a "There you go. good girl." as you inhaled. Normally you would correct him for goodgirling you but today you didn't care. So you let him get away with it. Plus he could roll one hell of a blunt. And it was kind of hard to be cross with his hand on your thigh and Seungmin'd in your hair. In fact, you were quite content.

"Chan texted he and the hyungs should be home in a bit," Felix said from in front of the TV.

"Good, that's just enough time for Jisung to roll another one," you suggested. Tugging on the hem of his shirt. Maybe you were too high, because you really wanted him to take it off. Yeah, you were so high.

"Hey, I'm not rolling for those losers! I roll for you, and for you only! They have their own hands." Jisung protested as he offered it to Seungmin to which the younger declined, stating that he had to stay focused on your hair. Something about his statement made your heart swell. It's a nice feeling to be cared for.

Jisung then offered to blunt the other two in the room. They on the other hand accepted his offer. It was often he shared his blunts with anyone other than his girl. He said it was the gentlemen in him.

Time passed as you all waited for the older ones to get home. The more that passed the higher you got, and soon enough everyone in the room was higher than you originally intended to be. You could tell in the way everyone was lying to each other. Felix and Jeongin are a pile of limbs, their game long abandoned. Music is playing from the speakers as they whisper secrets to each other, giggling like school children while watching random videos on their phones. You were still seated between Seungmin's legs. His hands still dutifully unbraiding. Ever dedicated to his craft. But you could tell he was contact high as well. You could tell in the way he would kiss your head ever so often. A gentle reminder of his affection for you.

Jisung was sitting in your lap, playing with random parts of your body. Your face arms legs had all been prodded by him, not that it bothered you in the slightest. His touch left sparks all over you. You were having conversations about whatever came to mind. And finding comfort in one another. The atmosphere is warm and cozy. You wish every day could be like this.

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seeingivy · 1 year ago

Text

cornelia street

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my debut concert event

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: mentions of drinking, reader has diabetes, mentions of misogyny in the workplace, satoru and reader are lawyers, gojo calls reader bonnie bc they're bonnie and clyde, a teenager who pees on da sidewalk, and a bitchy barista

an: 50+ listens to cornelia street and she's done. a request from the lovely @skzismyhome I hope you love it pookie and thank you for your support always!!!

You look down at the contract in front of you, willing down the angry tears settling in your eyes.

You knew that this day would come. It comes for everyone, for every son and daughter in higher society. The day they arrange your marriage.

And you never really dreaded it. Or hated it. Utahime was nearly murderous when it was happening to her, Shoko almost eloped and moved to the countryside when it was her turn, and Mei Mei was the only one who actually disappeared off the face of the Earth.

But you didn’t really care. Since you were young, you knew that this was something that you were being primed for. Why you had to be the best. You just hoped when it happened, it would be everything like your parents.

They didn’t love each other. But they were partners. By each other’s side. More like friends who just also happened to be married and had kids together.

But like all things in higher society, you never get what you want. Because the idiot you’re signing the papers with is the most entitled, self-centered egotistical asshat you’ve ever met.

Satoru Gojo.

“Last matter of business. I think this decision lands on Y/N, since Satoru made the last one. Where would you like to live?”

You scribble your answer onto the page and sign the line next to your name at the bottom. Satoru follows suit, sliding the ring box to your side, as you both shuffle in your seats.

Satoru has no reason to hate you. If anything, he should be praising the fucking ground you walk on for what he did to you. You slide the ring on your own finger and collect the papers, sealing them into the envelope.

“Where did you pick? For us to live?”

“Cornelia Street.”

You and Satoru butt heads often. You start it. Sometimes he argues back. You’re both pissed off by the end of it.

“I’ll run the errands, Satoru.”

He groans as he swings open the fridge, pulling out his leftovers from the night before.

“It’s literally right next to my office. I could just grab it if you tell me what it is you need.”

“No, thank you. I can get my things on my own.”

“Why are you so stubborn all the time? You haven’t even let me do anything since-”

“I can do my shopping on my own, thanks.”

You would let Satoru do it. You would. Because it is really annoying to run down to the store every time you need something, but you’re not giving in.

Because that would require you to indulge Satoru in more personal information than you would like to, so you can’t. Because you don’t fraternize with the devil.

The thing you need from the store isn’t actually from the store, it’s from the pharmacy next to it. You’re out of your long insulin pods, because you’ve been so busy with work. Because your own pancreas is so stupid, it can’t produce it’s own insulin. You have to buy it from the store, in a stupid little patch that painfully pricks into your stomach every time you insert it.

He blocks the doorway as you try to walk out, blue eyes peering into yours.

“Why won’t you just let me do this for you?”

“Because that worked out so well for me last time, Satoru.”

He groans as he presses his fingers to his nose bridge, nearly rolling his eyes at you.

“You know. If you’d let me explain that, I’d actually-”

“There’s nothing to explain. I asked you to give me a shoo in for my dream job. You quite explicitly told them not to hire me.”

Three summers ago was the first time you were graced with Satoru Gojo’s presence. And hell, you actually tolerate him. Maybe even liked him. You were both doing an internship, at the Zenin’s law firm in Brooklyn.

You and Satoru were somewhat of a…dream team. Every case you worked on together gave you a rush, like he’d finish your thoughts before you were thinking. Like you picked up where he lacked and vice versa. You were Bonnie and Clyde. Partners in crime.

So when they gave Satoru the associate position first, you asked him to pick you for the second associate opening. Because the person who gets that opening gets to be his partner. And you had convinced him - that you two would be a dream team, that you would be unstoppable. He agreed, in fact - he promised he would give it to you.

Which is why you felt blindsided when they picked an outsider, Getou Suguru, as the associate. And when you asked the head of the Zenin’s, Toji, why he didn’t pick you, you were mad. Why you weren’t the associate when you ran to get coffee for all of them all summer, stayed up late on cases, and busted your ass off, he said that Satoru didn’t think you were a good fit. And he has to make sure staff has good personal relations.

“Why are you so stubborn? You literally won’t even talk to me about-”

“I don’t want to talk to you! What part of that do you not fucking understand? I don’t like you. I’m never going to like you because you’re an egotistical, sadistic little prick and-

“And what are you? You’re an entitled little know it all. You don’t even listen before jumping to your own fucking conclusions about-”

“It’s not jumping to conclusions when Toji tells me straight to my face that you didn’t think I was a good fit. You’re fucking dense as fuck if you think I don’t know that.”

You push past him, marching angrily down Cornelia Street.

You press your face against the glass, watching the mounds of snow out in the street. You and Satoru have been snowed in on Cornelia Street for three days now, the stupid climate change induced storm in the middle of November trapping you for good.

In theory, you would have loved something like this. A break from work for a few days, nice weather for you to watch movies and cuddle up on the couch. Except, there’s an intruder in your house who has the same ideas as you.

“Hey.”

“Shove a fork in your eye, Satoru.”

“You get more creative as time goes on. I appreciate that in a wife.”

You roll your eyes as you walk over to the kitchen, where Satoru’s rummaging through the kitchen.

“Did you eat all the food already?”

“You know, if you actually did groceries on time, maybe we would actually have food for emergencies like this, Satoru.”

“First you don’t want me to do groceries and now you do? You’re so unpredictable it’s like-”

“I’m unpredictable? You’ve got to be kidding-”

“Oh my god. We’re not doing this today. I get it. I stole your dream job. Ruined your life. You hate me. Just, shut up about it already.”

He’s swirling the spoon through the saucepan as he waits for it, your irritated, agitated retort. And it doesn’t come.

He looks over to find you all but leaning over the counter, your head pressing into your forearm as you wobble on your feet. He instinctively reaches forward, holding you up in his arms.

“Hey. What’s wrong? Why are you-”

You lean forward against his chest, pressing your hands against his biceps as you feel your legs go limp. Right. Day three on Cornelia Street. With no extra insulin pods left.

“I’m out of-”

You slump forward more this time and Satoru drops the spoon on the floor, securing you against him as he leads you to the couch, laying you down flat on your back. His hands are on your face, firm on your cheeks as his voice starts wavering.

“What-what do I do? Tell me how to fix this, I-”

“Candy. Or anything sugar should-”

You can’t even finish the sentence before he bolts up, rummaging through the drawers before he returns. His touch is so gentle, so featherlike, as he helps you up, his hands shaking as he helps you drink the juice.

His hand is rubbing circles into your back, his cheek pressed into the top of your head as you both slow your breathing. And when you level out, Satoru’s hands are pressed around your face again, cupping your cheeks again.

“You okay, Bonnie?”

Bonnie. Like that summer, when you were Bonnie and Clyde.

“Yeah.”

“You’re positive?”

“Mhm.”

“Perfect. Are you a fucking dumbass?”

You lean your face out of his touch, more confused and disoriented than before. You-you just passed out and he’s yelling at you?

“Satoru. You’re so rude. I just-”

“Yes, Y/N. I’m yelling at you. I’m yelling at you because we literally live together and are married and you didn’t tell me you have fucking diabetes.”

“Okay. And?”

“And? You can’t be fucking serious right now-”

He pushes off the couch, pacing back in forth in front of you as he starts yelling, angrily running his hands through your hair.

“You’re-you’re this fucking mad at me? It was one job. And you-you would compromise your health over it?”

“This isn’t compromising my health. I just didn’t know there would be a storm and-”

“Y/N. Oh my fucking god, get it through your thick head. I’m your emergency contact. If you were fucking dying in a hospital and they ask me what’s wrong with you, I wouldn’t know. And then they would probably kill you because I didn’t know you had diabetes.”

You lean your head back against the couch, feeling the strain all at once. You’re drained. And you hate it when Satoru’s right. Because he is your emergency contact, because he’s your husband - whether you like it or not.

After not responding right away, Satoru leans back onto the couch with you, a hand pressed in your hair. He’s brushing through the tresses, his voice soft when he speaks again.

“God, Bonnie. Just let me take care of you.”

“That didn’t work out wel-

“Well for you last time. Quit saying the same shit over and over again. That was three years ago. And we’re…married now. I’m..supposed to take care of you now and I’m going to so just let me.”

You deflate as he keeps running his hands through your hair, the lack of insulin and energy surely imparing your inhibitions.

“Fine.”

He turns over to you, a wide smirk pressed against his face.

“Fine? You, Y/N L/N, agreeing with me?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

He laughs, leaning his head against yours as he moves his arm down your back, squeezing your side once before he talks again.

“Got any other big secrets you’re keeping from me?”

“I murdered a guy. He’s in our attic.”

“Ouch. What did he do, Bonnie?”

“It was an accident. I thought he was you.”

He presses your face into his hand, rolling his eyes at you.

Satoru is pleasantly surprised to find out that you don’t argue with just him, your unfiltered and unabashed rage is something that you do with everyone. Your latest victim? Your little brother, Yuuta.

You’ve been screaming at him for a better part of the past hour, because Yuuta’s being a fucking idiot. Yuuta was never into the whole arranged marriage, higher society thing. And you knew that.

You just never think he’d come to your place, asking you and Satoru for money so he could run away with Maki.

“This is the wrong move, Yuu. You’re only nineteen.”

“I have to do this now. I can’t do what you did. I don’t care if you like him now and you’re friends or whatever, I just really…really love her, okay?”

“You love her? Then stop being a fucking idiot about it. You’re both making a stupid decision that’s just going to hurt you. You can’t just run away from your problems.”

“Y/N. You’re always think you know what’s best and you control-”

“Yuuta, you little piece of-”

Satoru stops you before you walk further, yanking you back by firmly pulling on your wrist. He leans forward, whispering I got this in your ear before yanking Yuuta out of your apartment and down the opposite block of Cornelia Street.

When they return, they both have the audacity to be smiling, Yuuta holding two cups of Coppola’s Coffee in his hand. He sets one in front of you, awkwardly brushing his hand against his neck.

“Sorry, Y/N. You’re right.”

You smile.

“What was that? I didn’t really hear you.”

“You were right.”

“One more time. A little louder, Yuu.”

He rolls his eyes as he grabs his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. He walks back, pressing a kiss to your cheek and bidding goodbye to Satoru as he drags out the door. You turn to your side, glaring at Satoru.

“What did you say to him?”

“Ah, you know. The usual.”

“The usual?”

“Just talked him down. Told him if he really likes this Maki girl then he should ask us for help. We are his older siblings and all. That you just get mad because you care about him.”

You roll your eyes as you lie face down on the counter, cheeks burning. You’re his older siblings. Because Satoru’s his brother in law. You feel him tapping on your head, gleefully grinning at you.

“What?”

“Guess what time it is.”

“You know, just because I pass out one time on accident doesn’t mean-”

He presses his fingers to your lips, rolling his eyes as he places it in your hands. A pack of almonds.

“Satoru.”

“Did you know that almonds are the perfect snack? Because they’re high in magnesium, potassium-”

“And vitamin E. Making the perfect nutrient-rich snack for those with impaired glucose tolerance.” you finish, mimicking his high pitched voice.

He opens up the packet, pouring them all into your hand. And then he watches you eat every single one. You come up with an insult for each one you eat.

“You’re a disgrace to humanity, Satoru.”

“And?”

“And a little pain in the ass. Like you know when you get a pimple stuck right in between your butt and it hurts to sit down? That’s what you are.”

“Descriptive. Just one more almond and you’re done, Bonnie. Make the insult good.”

“I don’t take orders from men. Least of all you.”

You place the last one in your mouth, chewing and then sticking your tongue out to Satoru, to show you did in fact eat the entire thing.

“That’s my girl. Not only does she eat all her food but hurls scathing insults at the same time.”

“Being your biggest hater is my full time job, Satoru.”

He laughs, pinching your cheek as he starts milling around the kitchen, preparing for dinner. Ever since you and Satoru got snowed in and he found out about everything, you…were both surprisingly tame. Not at Bonnie and Clyde pre-getting backstabbed levels, but he’s not…horrible to be around. And he never really was.

Because Satoru’s thoughtful. He’s googled all the ways to control blood sugar, reserached different pods for you to try, and always tries to balance the dinner (that you now let him make for you) to make sure that you’re eating all right.

And he’s funny. He’s convinced you into watching the Bachlorette with him every week. And you’re above corny reality shows but his commentary is just so ridiculous you can’t help but watch with him.

And he even got Yuuta and Maki to like him now.

And really, it’s all types of irritating because you like him. You actually like him. He backstabbed you into oblivion but he’s also the sweetest, most compassionate guy you’ve ever talked to and you like him.

You push off the counter, reaching for the cupboard and yank out the biggest glass of wine you can find. As soon as you finish pouring almost the entire bottle into the glass, Satoru snatches it out of your hand, cheekily smiling at you.

“Thank you, Bonnie.”

“I was going to drink that, Satoru.”

“Diabetics should drink in moderation. Can’t have you passing out on me now.”

“That was one time. You could share, you know.”

He rolls his eyes as he hands you the glass, your hands burning from it. How intimate it is. That you and Satoru are sharing a glass, all warm and drowsy from the drink. And when he grabs your hand, leading you onto the little patio just off of your roof, you follow. Blindly.

You’re both laying against the bricks, the lights of the city reflecting into the sky. There aren’t any stars out, only the tinted white of the fluorescnets against the dark sky.

“Why’d you pick Cornelia Street, Bonnie?”

“It’s quiet. And I always walked down it - when I used to go to class and then after when I started walking to work. I’ve always liked all the little people bustling by with Coppola’s on the corner.”

“Hm.”

“What?”

“So do you like that kid who peed on the block last week?”

“Ew. Gross, Satoru.”

He laughs, leaning back on the tiles, beckoning for you to move closer to him. He opens up his arm, which you lean into, his arm wrapped around yours. The tiles are kind of digging into your back, but you ignore it because you don’t want to move and risk Satoru moving away from you.

“Do you like Cornelia Street, Satoru?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m moved by the passion, Satoru. You can’t imagine yourself anyplace else, can you?”

He looks over, blue eyes glimmering under the shy flourescents of the building, his voice firm as he answers.

“No. I can’t imagine myself anywhere else.”

And from the look on his eyes, the way your skin is itching from the way he’s looking at you…you know he’s not talking about Cornelia Street.

“Are you-”

“Talking about Cornelia Street? I’m not, Bonnie. I’m talking about the girl who loves Cornelia Street.”

You reach over, timidly pressing your hand to Satoru’s face as you shift his face over, his cheeks warm under your touch. He’s moving forward, eyes fluttered shut and you can feel your heart hammering under your chest.

And when he presses his lips to yours, soft and plush with a hint of wine on his mouth, you can’t help but feel it all untangling in your chest. Unraveling. The way you feel about him, those stupid blue eyes and that lopsided smile.

Because all of those summers ago, it wasn’t that you liked working with the Zenin’s. It’s that you liked working with Satoru. And it wasn’t a backstab to not get to work with the Zenin’s, it was that Satoru didn’t want you to work with him.

He snakes his hand under your shirt, his touch featherlike but blossoming searing light onto your skin.

“Satoru. This is public indecency.”

He presses his head into your neck, peppering soft kisses into your neck as he responds.

“Bonnie and Clyde were criminals, silly girl.”

“Almonds, Bonnie.”

“Satoru.”

“Nope. Eat ‘em and we’ll go.”

You roll your eyes as you tilt the packet back, shoving them all into your mouth. Satoru gives you a gleeful grin and a kiss on the forehead as he shoves you out the door. Satoru walks you to work everyday. And back home on the way back. To protect you from lewd street pee.

You get coffee from Coppolas every morning, the barista always giving the two of you a shining smile. Whenever the flower vendors pass by, Satoru always buys you the pink ones, which make your heart pound but you always clown him for.

Satoru insists that you wear your wedding ring everyday. And buys one for himself too, which he forces you to put on him. And he encourages you - to be better. Which is why you’re going to try again.

“Toru.”

“Hm, Bonnie?”

“Can you do me a favor on your way to work?”

“Sure.”

“Mail this for me.”

You hand him your job application, to work with the Zenin’s and Satoru, to fix what happened the first time. Granted, Satoru doesn’t really work with the Zenin’s anymore, but instead a different firm, but they do partner up sometimes.

In a way, asking Satoru to do this for you is righting a wrong. Because he should put in a good word for you this time, so you can actually get your dream job. Because whatever stopped him the first time isn’t there now - he’s told you hundreds of times that you’re brilliant, the smartest person he’s ever met - so there’s no logical reason for him not to.

So when you find the application in his bag, six days after the fact while looking for his phone, you’re a little bit confused.

“Toru.”

“Hm?”

“Did you hear back from Toji? About the job?”

“Ah, yeah. He’s not really into it. I gave it to him but he said there’s no associate openings.”

Liar. As always, Satoru Gojo is a fucking liar. And it’s stupid. It’s so stupid of you to think otherwise. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as you shove your things into your backpack and swing it over your shoulder.

And you almost walk out the door before he catches you.

“Hey. Where are we going, Bonnie?”

“I’m leaving. You’re staying here.”

You watch the smile fall off of his face, the grip on your wrist loosening.

“Is something wrong, Y/N?”

“You really hate me that much, don’t you? You couldn’t even hand it in for real this time? You have that little faith in the work that I can do?”

“This-this isn’t about the faith I have in you. You’re brilliant and I’ve always thought that about you. It’s just that it’s not right-”

“Not right for me? Because working at one of the best law firms isn’t right for me? I should just slum it out where I’m at now.”

“Bonnie, I can explain-”

And you run straight out the door, flat off of Cornelia Street.

Satoru doesn’t hear from you for nine days. And it’s pure agony. Waking up without you next to him. Watching people mill by on Cornelia Street, getting Coppola’s without you. The barista doesn’t even smile at him anymore.

And when that stupid kid pees on the block again, he can’t even laugh at it. Because Cornelia Street without you is all types of wrong.

He wakes up every morning, promptly at 7:30. Because if what you said is right, you take Cornelia Street on the way to work when you walk from home. But you never do. He’s never seen you walk past, not even once.

You’re still going to work. He knows that because Maki told him so. Yuuta isn’t really talking to him anymore, but Maki begrudgingly gives him slivers of information that he lives off of.

She’s going to work, just a different way.

Yes, I gave her the almond packets.

No, she doesn’t want to talk to you.

But he knows you have to come back. Because your sewing machine and your vinyls and all your things are here. Because some selfish part of him thinks you have to come back because it’s him. Because some small part of you loves him the way the entirety of him has always loved you.

So much so, that he’s had selfish intentions from the start. To protect you.

If he was a smart guy, he would have picked you to be his partner when he was working with the Zenin’s straight out. Because you’re a dream team, because no one picks at his mind and makes him work in circles the way you do.

But when he brought you up to Toji, it eliminated any possibility you had of working here. Because the Zenin’s are disgusting, misogynistic pigs.

Toji said he would hire you on one condition. That Satoru shares you with him. Because Toji had caught on to the affections Satoru had held for you in earnest but still wanted his fair share of the cut. Because he’s still an old money lawyer, who uses his own power to his advantage. Because your pretty face is the only reason he hired you in the first place.

He picks Getou the next time he sees Toji. And he never hears from you again. And that’s okay, because you end up working with Utahime at a different firm and he knows that you’re safe from this. And dear god does he miss you, but it is better than the alternative.

And when your parents bring you together, because you’re both lawyers and that’s a common interest, he’s more than happy to sign the papers. Because it’s his chance to right his wrong. Because he still wants to be Bonnie and Clyde, in all the ways that matter.

You pass out in his arms and his world stops. Because he’s always wanted to protet you, and he recognizes that some part of that is selfish because you can protect yourself, but god he just wants to take care of you because you mean something to him.

And when you leaned over and kissed him, Satoru loves you. He loves you and he loves Cornelia Street and he loves everything you love. Because anything you like is anything he likes. You could tell him that you hate the sky and he’d never look at it again.

But when you hand him that shiny job application, asking for his support, he can’t. Because now more than ever, he can’t let his wife even stand near idiots like Toji. The thought of someone thinking about you like that, let alone doing something like that is enough to send him into a blind rage, that would most definitely get him blacklisted from literally any workplace.

And dear god does he wish you would have heard him out when you left. Because he would have told you. That you were all types of brilliant, that you keep him on his toes, that you’re the only god damn thing he’s ever wanted.

That he can’t let you work there because he loves you. Because he wants you to be happy always, to be surrounded by people who respect you for you, who think you’re just as brilliant as you actually are.

And he’d actually be able to do that if he could fucking find you. He wanders a different street everyday, hoping to catch you walking to work. It’s currently day nine and he has yet to find success. But when he sees them, shiny black loafers across the sidewalk, he runs into incoming traffic just to catch you.

He gets angry honks and yelling because New Yorkers are always rude, but he doesn’t care. You’re like a ghost. You can get away if he doesn’t walk fast enough. And when he catches your elbow, stopping you from walking, he knows he’s done it.

“Bonnie.”

“Satoru. Why are you…panting?”

“Ran into traffic.”

“Wish they hit you.”

He takes you in. And just like Maki said, you’re fine. Well, you look fine. A bit angry, that stupid vein bulging out on your forehead, but you’re okay.

“Why don’t you walk on Cornelia Street?”

“What?”

“You said you picked Cornelia Street because it’s on the way to work. That you like to watch the people on Cornelia Street and Coppola’s on the corner. You haven’t walked there for nine days. Why?”

He watches you roll your eyes as you shake his hand off, walking past him. But Satoru’s faster, basically pinning you into the wall by putting his arms around you.

“Give me an answer.”

“No, Satoru.”

“Bonnie. You love Cornelia Street. Have since you were a kid. Why aren’t you walking there?”

You can feel the tears rising up in your eyes, the anger bubbling out of you as you respond.

“Because of you, asshole. Because Cornelia Street is you. I see that dumbass teenager piss on the street and all I can think about is how you think it’s funny. The guy selling flowers? I think about which ones you would pick out and buy for me. Coppola’s? The girl does’t even smile at me anymore. I don’t walk Cornelia Street because I can’t. Because it’s all you now. Everything I like there reminds me of you.”

He can feel it. His heart burning. He can still make this right.

“She’s kind of a bitch, you know? She doesn’t smile at me either.”

You laugh, your chest heaving from the pain. Because seeing him again makes your chest burn. Ache. Because you miss him and because you love him. And when he opens his arms and shoves you into his chest, his smell in your nose, all you can do is cry, cheeks burning into his skin.

“Bonnie.”

“Shut up. I’m still mad at you. You’re a back stabber.”

“If you let me explain, I would-”

“Fine. Let’s hear your great explanation.”

So when you start making your way back, he explains. That he’s selfish. And a back-stabber. And when he tells you what Toji says, he doesn’t miss the way you cringe, the way your face goes blank when he thinks about it.

About how he knows he should have told you but he hates to see you down. How Bonnie and Clyde was always going to be more than a work thing, but the thing he wants forever.

And when you reach the front of the door, of your apartment on Cornelia Street, he can’t help but feel a weight in his chest. Because you’re quietly standing, staring at the door. Granted, you are holding his hand and it’s a good sigh, but…you haven’t said anything.

“Satoru.”

“Yes?”

“I really…messed this up, didn’t I?”

“What?”

And when you turn to his side, he’s floored at the fact that you’re crying. Begging him to stay with you.

“Satoru. I-I don’t want to lose you. Please don’t walk away I, I don’t-”

He clamps his hand over your mouth, shaking his head as you as he deflates.

“God, Bonnie. You have no idea how I feel about you, do you?”

“Huh?”

“I love you. I want to walk Cornelia Street with you. I want to buy you flowers and check the mailbox with you. I want Yuuta and Maki to pretend to throw up when they see us kissing and I want to take care of you. If you’ll just let me, I’ll do it right.”

And when you lean forward, the kiss is messy. Your tears are falling on to his face and he’s way too eager from the way he’s hanging off of your lips, the way he’s literally shaking you in his hold.

You walk Cornelia Street the next day. And you’re part of the constants of the street. The guy selling flowers, the fresh fruit cart on Saturdays, lewd pee kid when he’s drunk, and two very happy in love lawyers.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06@bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot@itzmeme

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drowninginblox · 1 year ago

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OPLA! Roronoa Zoro Drabbles- how you met + how you joined the crew

I am drunk off this man right now. If he'd let me, I'd love to get to know him over a bottle of wine and a sirloin steak. Even though he's more of a booze man ofc. Below are some stray thoughts I have about him since I am slightly obsessed lol. I hope y'all enjoy my romantic/self-indulgent drabbles. One more thing- all of these HCs will surround an MC who identifies as Female.

Edit: hahaha umm.. happy late borth Zoro. Sorry for being late lol

I don't think you'd meet Zorro when he was young. Rather, you'd be on an otherwise unremarkable island or boat somewhere on the east blue, make your way to the grand line (ya fucking idiot). For some reason, to him anyway, you'd be the most remarkable thing about that rest stop. That one girl in that one bar he had a conversation with.

Whenever he thinks back on you, your smile would always be the first thing that comes to mind. Then your laugh. And then that side-eye glance you'd send his way when you ask him what he's thinking about. Usually after a contemplative sip of whatever you were indulging yourself on.

There are a lot of things that Zoro enjoys in life, but as much as he is the strong and silent type of guy, I think he enjoys a worthwhile conversation far more. So long as it means something to either of you. He hates pointless banter if there's nothing backing it.

When you see Zoro again, it's on the mainland shortly after the beginning of the time skip (haha spoilers 'LA watchers. We're in for a two-year time skip at some point in the series). You two meet up on land, just a skip away from where you two were gonna break away to your respective destinations. Completely on accident btw

Yall decide to spend the night together. Nothing zesty happens, Only wholesome cuddling and a long conversation that drifts into the early hours of the morning.

Yall wakes up at noon. He lets it slip that he's gonna train for a bit before meeting up with some friends at a very remote port god knows where, and you promise yourself two things.

You're not gonna drag this man down

You're gonna be one hell of a worthwhile pirate

So when y'all break away, promising each other that this definitely isn't gonna be the last time y'all meet, you decide to become a pro marksman. The gun kind, not the slingshot kind (don't wanna come after Ussop's brand lol)

So you do that for a year and a half before you make your way to the meet-up spot. You get there a day early, and during breakfast, you see Zoro and this blond bitch running somewhere. Naturally, you dropped everything (literally dropped your food back on the table) and jumped from the balcony to chase these mother fuckers to the docks where (spoilers) the sunny was parked.

It isnt until Zoro's halfway up the ship that you yell his name. He turns to see you, and it's like that night from a year ago all over again. He's got half a mind to jump down to you, but Luffy looks over and asks what's going on.

Everyone's teasing Zoro's ass bc of "the side piece he's picked up"

Ussop and Choper are asking him what your name is and where he found you

Sanji is on you immediately

Nami is asking for a fee to get on the ship

Franky is wondering why you built differently compared to every other girl he's seen (I like to make my OP OC's anything but Oda's depiction of the fem. figure. Mostly cubby and/or built. Sometimes both.)

Robin is wondering what's in your backpack since you look well packed (It's books. Fuck you I'm making physical fanfiction canon to one piece)

Zoro, meanwhile, is (mostly) worried about Luffy since he's captain.

Luffy looks you up and down, asks what you can do, and you say you're an alright marksman. Ussop is up and arms at this and Luffy backs him up saying that yall already have a marksman (and that you're a girl anyway so that isn't even the right term)

You say that you're knowledgeable in medicine and you're done your fair share of odd jobs since you've picked up a few things as a barmaid.

Luffy ponders this, countering that they already have a doctor but could always use the support when needed. He looks back to the crew and asks them what they think as well, wich surprises you a little. Nami and Robin would appreciate another afab person on the crew but supplies are tight as is, Franky thinks you're cool, same for Chopper. Sanji comments on supplies as well but he wouldn't mind if another girl is on board. Ussop is a little threatened by your presence and is against your addition entirely.

Zoro almost yells at him but before he starts, you get on your knees and properly ask him, along with the rest of the crew to stay. Luffy asks you why, and you say that you want to live. Live life with people you know and do it to the fullest. You then look back to Ussop, who is staring you down. "I didn't come to replace you. I came to follow, and hopefully live up to the people he adores," You glance over to Zoro, who is surprised you admitted that in front of his (totally not) family. "He holds you all to such a high standard. I wanna be a part of that."

Ussop just tells you to stand up and looks at Luffy. Luffy lets you on board, with the condition that you show off your skills. You do so.

Zorro helps you on and holds your hand as y'all are leaving port.

#one piece zoro #one piece #one piece spoilers #one piece anime #one piece live action #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #live action zoro x reader

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henkoukazue · 2 years ago

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Meeting you was a Blessing...

Summary: When polar opposites meet, everything becomes chaotic. Does coexisting will be just fine…. or rather much more difficulty?? We'll never know unless…

WC: 5.0k (not quite edited tho, and this will be quiet long so ready some snacks and tissues if needed ehe~)

Type: ONESHOT

Pairings: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader (*and slight Cynari<3)

Warnings: MDNI 18+, NSFW, suggestive/explicit content, possible mentions of SH (slightly??), Trauma (reader), Panic and Anxiety Attacks, Mild Depression, (...will add some after i complete this or y'all can give me suggestions huehuehue)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Fluff, Smut, Angst kinda heavy??, miscommunication?, established relationship, slow burn (unsure), arranged pairing, mutual pinning, crack!fic, marriage (at fisrt you agreed to marry him bcs of your parents and... "of his high salary and stable job" but...), whipped!Alhaitham, slightly jealous!Alhaitham??, modern au (kinda.. idk), Kaveh and the other Sumeru boys and girls cameo, exploratory ff, might be ooc on the latter (yes.... I'm talking abt Haitham here BASHAHSHASHA idk tho, not sure)

a/n: This is my first time doing something like this and idk if this'll be successful, but I'm just doing this for fun and also like a stress-reliever (abt stuffs from school & at home😭😭 ....GOSHH i hate it here /jk) lmaoo and this is kinda like a self-indulgement ff sorry abt that I guess... I hope you all will also enjoy my writing. TYSMM!!🖤💚 ouhh and also, bfr I forgot, English isn't my first language sooo~ if there's any mistakes or errors lemme know my cinnamons <3

>> and also 'here' is a dabble of their domestic life awiee enjoy!!

There was a point in your life when you fantasized about having or being in a romantic relationship with someone, but... you learned through time that love isn't the only thing in the world. You relished the freedom and independence that came with discovering yourself. A soft sigh left your lips ‘It felt like ecstasy being out of the cage,’ you mumbled. Walking down the streets of Sumeru city, you spotted your closest pals since college. There were Candace, Nilou, Dehya, and Tighnari.

Candace noticed you and waved softly, saying, 'Looky here, our bachelorette is here!' Little chuckles escaped their lips. 'Heh, what are you guys talking about and giggling there?' you pouted and hugged them behind their back. You noticed your friend Tighnari blushing, looking at his phone and you inquired, "Eyy, are you and Cyno going out now?" eyes sparkled, and the others turned to look at him. He smiled nervously, then said 'Uhh yes, we are now officially going out now, but, please don't announce it to others yet. It's pretty embarrassing,' he says, straining his eyes shut. You were surprised that they were going out now, and the girls were as well, so you guys cheered 'Congratulations!!' ' to your best friend Tighnari, gaily.

—

You and your friends now bid farewell to each other. Now alone, a sudden call from your parents came. 'Uhm, hello? Mom, Dad? ' you answered. 'Why hello our dear sweetheart, have you found a man you'll mar----' your father interrupted what your mother was about to say 'Uhh hahahaha my, don't worry about that my child.' clears throat 'How are you doing now? ' He expressed concern. You let out a sigh. 'Oh, I'm doing well and.... You no longer need to be concerned. I'm an adult now, and I have a great job, even though I'm still living in that leased apartment'. 'Ohh, I see,' your father said, before the call fell silent. 'Darling—-' you cut off the phone before your mother begins to whinge about your love life once more (if you ever have...).

When you got closer to the apartment, you noticed your friend Tighnari's flower shop, where he and his lover Cyno were all lovey-dovey, and a faint smile slipped your lips. But after a minute, you felt a sharp pain in your chest, you came to a halt and sighed heavily. 'Man... I shouldn't be feeling this,' you said as you resumed your walk.

Now that you're inside the apartment, exhausted and sluggish, you just throw yourself in bed. 'I guess I'll go visit them and consider about that marriage they're talking about, and blah blah,' you muttered, closing your eyes shut. Dawn arrived, feeling the beams of sunshine on your face, you got up and started your just-so-normal daily routine and headed to work.

After an hour of dedicating yourself to your job, you rewarded yourself with some sweets and a cup of coffee at Puspa Café, which is also pretty close to your place. Knowing you as a regular, the owner immediately listed your orders and awaits you if you ever want to add something. 'Well then, mister, I'd like to take out some of your freshly made Padisarah pudding!' you said warmly. The owner then chuckled and said, 'All right, dear, your order is on its way!' Then motioning his hands a kind-of-salute gesture.

—

While you were leaving the café, you noticed that your phone was not in your purse, and as you looked around, you observed an ashen-haired man motioning something with his hand and muttering something. 'Miss! Miss! I believe this is your phone.' …..

'Miss umm, here, your phone,' he said slowly, motioning his palm over your face. You shook your head, 'Ohh! Ahh yes, thank you very much.' you nodded modestly and bid farewell to the man. 'Yes, you're welcome,' he mumbled under his breath, watching you with his bright teal eyes motioning out of the café.

It's that time of year again, summer. Because of that one phone conversation, you decided to pay a visit to your parents' house. 'Ughh, seriously, your mother? Why can't she leave you be? You're all good now and doing great, the fu---,' Dehya exclaimed, only to be cut off by a piece of bread Nilou shoved into her mouth. 'This woman! Aish,' Nilou sighed and glaring at Dehya with an expression saying 'What? What did I do wrong?'. Candace and you both laughed..... 'Well, then, what can I do? They're old and such, I assume they're simply worried about me.' Candace and Nilou gave you a pitying glance.

You were apprehensive about your journey to your parents' house because you knew your mother would nag you all day and all night about how you didn't have a relationship. As you arrived at the front door, you were debating whether to knock or go back when your father abruptly opened the door. '..... Oh. Ohh! Dear, goodness you're here. How's the trip?' He hugged you and you just plainly stated 'Well, it's summer and I'm on a break, so I decided to pay a visit since…. It's been a long time... I suppose?' an awkward silence filled the doorway.

The only thing that broke the silence was your mother clapping her hands. 'Hey, the two of you come on over here now, and how's the trip, my darling, how about a boyfriend?' You gave her a deadpan expression, indicating that 'Please, just shut up, I'm tired!' to only earn a small chuckle from the elderly man, your father.

Sitting at the dining table, memories of the past came rushing. You recall how this home and its people made you feel horrible as a youngster, how they used to control and mistreat you. You smiled bitterly at the memory. While you didn't notice it, your father, looking at you and clenched his fist under the table and kept saying, 'I'm so sorry, my dear,' who knows how many times. Breaking the awkwardness, your mother started. 'So, would you mind if we do an arrange pairing?' You shoot your heads up and look at your father and mother to only mutter, 'What?'

After some minutes have passed, your mother smiles, 'Well isn't it why you came here too?' …..your mother isn't wrong. You cleared your throat, 'Yes. I'm also here to discuss that arranged pairing and marriage thing you're so eagerly asking me for.'

A month later, a matchmaker was dispatched to your place, accompanied by your parents. Still can't process what is happening, although you agreed to it that you’ll do the arrange pairing, you let them in.

The session was then initiated by the matchmaker. She asked you quite numerous questions, and some of those were; 'What do you wish for in your life to be my dear?' gently staring at you... 'I want a tranquil life where I can exhibit my independence, value space from each other, and the partner who will be partnered with me is also committed,' you gulped, ending with a shaky voice. The old lady giggled softly and delicately wrote it down on her vintage paper. Then she again asked another one, 'What is the thing that interests you the most?....it might be from the past or currently.' She smiled again, assuring you to be true to yourself. 'I-- I like books and anything that I think is very valuable,' you looked down, turning pinkish-red. The old matchmaker then pursues you to say it. You inhale, regain your confidence, and continue, 'I also adore deep sea creatures...... if that makes sense.' you awkwardly smiled. She then resumed her writing.

—

You hurriedly go towards the elderly matchmaker and, of course, your parents, as usual. You grumble in a low tone upon seeing them. The matchmaker then motions with her hands for you to enter the room and address the matter, but this time your parents are not present, so you feel relieved.

You noticed the man standing near the furniture set reading something about literature after slightly opening the door. He then noticed your presence and politely nodded, as you do so too. The matchmaker then instructs the two of you and tells you what topics you will be discussing before leaving.

'Oh, um... Hello, pleasure to meet you,' you said as you extended your hand in a handshake. The man then accepted it and said, ‘Same here, I'll be in your care then, my partner?’ Your body became stiff by hearing his voice. He then felt your hands stiff, so he released your hands gently and said, 'Are you alright?’ looking straight at you with eyes which remained neutral. You, startled by his stare, so you shifted your sight to the window and murmured something. Him the observant he is, noticed you again but didn't do anything and let you be. He's not sure as to why he gave in to his deceased grandmother's will that at that age, he'll go to meet a matchmaker and be paired to the person he'll remain for the rest of his life, love, and cherish him.

A day turned into a week, a week turned into months, and then those months turned into a year. Now, him helping you move out to his house, you asked midway at the entrance door. 'Umm, about the wedding ceremony, when was it again?' looking at him neutrally, like you have no any interest in it whatsoever. 'Hm, I think it will be expected 8 weeks from now?' He looks up at the sky, then yours. '..... Alright, do you have any guests you'll have invited? Moreover our wedding will only take place in the government office.' He looked at you blankly for a few seconds before saying, 'No. I don't,' he says as he walks inside….

The time then has come, the two of you then recited your vows and filled out the papers prepared by the clerk for both of you and your parents. Of course, no honeymoon occurred; instead, you and him organized some of your belongings and the entire house now that it is occupied by two people.

After three years of marriage, you've gotten used to each other's habits and company. He occasionally notices you dancing while cooking and humming a song, noting mentally that you're having a nice day, just to elicit a small genuine smile, noticing it and contemplating at himself why he did that.

You also had the impression that someone was watching you from behind while you were cooking, so you stopped whenever you noticed your husband's presence in the kitchen or when he took a sip of his coffee nearby.

'.......' sips coffee, 'What are you cooking?' he said. Startled by the man you yelped and said in return, 'You! You almost gave me a heart attack there! Ohh, I'm cooking Sabz Meat Stew, the one you said is your favorite.... yes?' only to receive a blank expression from the man and one brow slightly raised. 'Hmm~ okey.' then leaves the room.

You pondered, 'Huh? The hell??'

Alhaitham grumbled after he woke from his peaceful slumber. He recalled that he had a job today. He then got up lazily and looked back at the bed to only see you snoring (not that loud), although from the looks of him, he thinks you are cute.

As usual, he didn't feel tired or anything in his office corner, but it was quickly shattered by his senior approaching him, and a former housemate, Kaveh, the star of the firm, renowned as the passionate designer with exquisite taste in arts and romance. Alhaitham scoffed, 'What?' glaring at the platinum-blonde haired man. 'Ugh, save that glare for later, will you!?' Kaveh exclaimed. Putting a bunch of papers at his desk. 'Here. This needs to be approved today so do it now, alright?' The man earned a minute of silence, then Alhaitham spoke up, 'Alright then. Now go.' Kaveh, being used to his antics responded, 'Bah! Alright, alright I'll go now~'

—

'Great. Now I can have peace,' Alhaitham whispered as he walked to the nearest café in the company. He then spotted Puspa Café and, shortly after, he noticed you with your friends. But he didn't approach you, he simply chose to observe you from afar.

After finishing your job at the library, Tighnari, your friend, messaged something at your group chat, saying that 'Guys, I'll have you all meet my boyfriend today, of course if you guys are free.' You smiled at your phone and waited for others to reply, then you saw Nilou's message, 'Yes we are all free today, where do you want us all to meet up? ^^ .' You then added, 'Me too, just concluded my work.'

You met Dehya first and welcomed her after all of you agreed to meet at Puspa Café. As is typical, Dehya has always tried on make-up with you and the girls since your college years, as she is doing just now, claiming boredom while waiting for the others. After a few minutes, you two noticed the other three and waved your hands where you were seated. 'Eyy, Tighnari, where has your boyfie gone? 'Dehya said. 'Hahah, Dehya, wait a minute, I'll go fetch him outside,' the man said as he ran out of the café.

After a minute of waiting, you and the girls see a tanned man joyfully conversing with Tighnari, all lovey-dovey. 'Yuck,' muttered Dehya in another hand. ‘I wish I was too sheesh, good for them I guess?' She shrugged, glancing at us, only to get a nudge at her side from Nilou. 'Oof-- the hell?'

Tighnari then waved and exclaimed, 'Guys! This is my boyfriend Cyno. Hope you all will be well acquainted with each other! ' smiled. Nilou approached Cyno first and enthusiastically handed him a handshake adding, 'I am very delighted for the two of you, that you are now officially going out!' Cyno then nodded and chuckled. ‘Thank you~’ said Cyno. Candace and you then bestow your blessings on the pair. Finally, there came Dehya, who looked at them with critical eyes. 'Hey, is there something wrong?' Tighnari said, tapping Dehya on the shoulder. Then Dehya looks at them both. 'No, nothing. I'm just happy for the two of you. But. BUT! If you Cyno--' pointing her index finger at his chest, 'I won't forgive you, okay? Don’t hurt my bestie.' Then Cyno chuckled and said, 'Heh, you can trust me lady,' and grinned silly at her.

—

Your husband was observing you guys from the other side of the café when he noticed a familiar figure. Slowly closing his eyes. Not sure whether he's seeing things correctly, but after repeating it a few times, he seemed astonished (although, actually kind of shocked lol). He then tried to go in your direction, only to be halted by his senior. 'Ugh...' Alhaitham exclaimed in his mind.

'Alhaitham!! I've been looking at you everywhere in the office. Remember how you agreed to have lunch with me today? You also said that someone's cooking delicious food for y----!!' Alhaitham then shoved his hands in his colleague’s mouth to show how annoying Kaveh is to him. He sought to hide somewhere when he noticed your presence approaching him. And silly Kaveh, left there standing, questioning what the hell is going on with his junior.

Alhaitham returned to your shared house and discovered that the lights were turned off and the room was chilly. Traversing the living room, he noticed a loud thud in your shared bedroom on the second floor. When he arrived, he noticed you weeping and.... you have a cut on your wrist that seems to be quite deep.

He embraced you ever so delicately as if you were about to crumble at any minute, trying to calm you down before asking any questions. Hearing your sobs go down, he then caresses your locks.... very soft locks. Didn't have the time to question what happened seeing you calming down and noticing you about to fall asleep in his embrace, he carefully lifts you up and places you on the bed. Looking at you, his heart breaking as he saw your state, he got up and cleaned and bandaged your wrist wounds.

—

Morning came, you noticed something on your hands. It was your husband, Haitham. You were taken aback by the sight, carefully releasing his calloused hands, which were securely entwined with yours. You were startled by your husband's unexpected motion and questioned, 'Uhh.... What- what happened?' face turning pale, smiling awkwardly.

'........., well aren't you the one who needs explaining here? My wife?' eyes widened by the sudden call of a familiar address. You gazed at his eyes, dazed, still taking in what he had just spoken. He softly bumped his forehead on yours, while you, bobbing your mouth open and closed. 'Take your time, anytime you are ready, my wife.' Again, your eyes widening, oblivious to a torrent of tears exiting your gorgeous eyes. You wept incessantly and were put back to sleep.

Alhaitham then began informing your coworkers at the library that you will be absent today due to you not feeling well… called Cyno to inform Tighnari and some of your friends.

You were back at work a few weeks after that event. Your coworkers begin to wonder who the man who contacted them that day was and what your relationship was with him. You ignored their queries and just stated, 'Enough of this chit-chat, remember we're at work, keep it for later,' before continuing to arrange the shelves. Quite embarrassed, you asked the Chief Librarian if it was okay to take your leave early today. The elderly then kindly nodded and waved you goodbye.

—

Alhaitham is waiting outside the library. He then glanced at Cyno and said, '.... What exactly do you want to know? ' while he was reading his book. Cyno, on the other hand, peered at him for a few minutes before saying something. 'I've been meaning to ask you this question, Alhaitham.... My lover claimed they didn't know you, and his friends wanted to know what your relationship is with her.' declared unequivocally.

'I-- we are married.... that is all I have to say.' Then continue reading where he last left. Cyno was taken aback, his mouth agape slightly, by what he heard from the man who is reputed to be distant, intellectual, dislikes small talk, and is difficult to engage with. '.... Cyno, please stop being so animated, you're not funny.' he said flatly, without glancing at the tanned man. 'I know you're joking. It was a great one, but—-' ,Cyno utter, only to be cut short by an impending disaster that Alhaitham despised oh so much (lmao sorry my bbg).

It was none other than Kaveh, his senior.

'Hey! What are you two talking about leaving me for? 'Kaveh remarked, not entirely aware of the very kind-of-awkward situation happening at the moment. ‘Huh? What?’

You, on the other hand, witnessed the scene. Ears turning flushed pink. 'What? WHAAAT!?? 'You exclaimed in the back of your mind as you walked straight to where your husband was, Haitham.

'My~ hello there Cyno.' you stated, smile feeling forced. '.... Oh. Ahh! Hello.' he nodded and glanced at you and Alhaitham, dazed. Kaveh, taking in what is going on. 'OHH!! Wait, wait, wait, wait!! ' shooting a surprised and uncharacteristic kind of glare at Alhaitham. Kaveh trying to connect the dots as to why you, a very beautiful— no, ethereal lady— would marry this man whose only interests are books and knowledge.

Two men are astonished by what is happening right now. Alhaitham then smoothly held your hands and excused, 'Uhh, apologies but me and my wife have to go now.... Bye.' walking out their way, the two men stilled on that very spot, gaze following you both, mouth twain agape.

The next day, you were greeted by your friends at the front door.

Flabbergasted by Candace by abruptly holding your shoulders and shaking you, 'Waaaaah our- our baby is married! Since when? AAAAA!!' Dehya in the back restrains her snickers since it's uncharacteristic of Candace. Then you gaze at Nilou, tears welling up in her beautiful blue-ocean eyes.

'Uhmm, I--' stopped by Dehya, 'NO! Let us in first.' then eyeing every corner of the house, finding where your said husband is. '..... My husband isn't here. He's at work right now.' Suddenly Dehya turns around and runs in your direction, exclaiming, 'Whaaat!? You're not lying, are you?' gasped loudly and animatedly. Nilou and Candace both chuckled at her sudden reaction.

—

You and your friends were seated at the sofa. Calmly explaining what and how it happened, then there's Dehya asking. 'Sooo, did you guys do it?' The other two women were stunned by what Dehya said, and Nilou responded, 'Sorry about that,' she smiled at you and smacked Dehya on the head.

You gave a forced smile and responded, 'Heheh, however we did not. And we don't even have feelings for one other...' you gaze down, a familiar aching in your chest welling up. Nilou notices it and pats your back. 'Actually.... I- I think I have feelings for my husband, however..... I think if I say it to him and announce it, he'll be appalled by the concept.' Tears well up in your lovely eyes. The females listened to you and offered words of sympathy.

—

When night fell, you were alone, waiting for Alhaitham. Thoughts from a while ago flooded your head, and thinking about them just made you feel upset again. So you went to your shared bedroom, covering your mouth to prevent sobs from escaping your soft lips, duvet covering you.

Alhaitham was drained after working overtime, now on his way home. He sluggishly put his shoes on the rack. Afterwards starts waltzing to find you and notices the bedroom door is slightly ajar. Alhaitham heed the quilt trembling; he then patted it. You, startled, you stopped moving and tried to make your voice not too strained from crying. 'Ohh! Welcome home Haitham. I'm sorry I wasn't able to cook for you, I wasn't feeling well.' Then the next thing that happened is that silence fell upon the room.

'........ Umm, Haitham?' you said still under the quilts. You tried to peek since you weren't receiving any reaction.

Alhaitham, being the person he is, saw an opportunity as you attempted to peek, a small smile escaped his lips. 'What are you doing? Hiding there and all.' looking at you with an unreadable expression. You gasped by the sudden touch at your hands by his. Flailing from his iron grip, but can't unfortunately, you accept defeat.

'I have a question.... and I'd want to say something to you.' Upon hearing that, your thoughts are clouded with pessimism, and you begin to wonder what he is going to say. Him observing your figure under the quilts, shaking. Without any further ado he started, 'I know you didn't want this kind of life, and that…. your parents made you do it..' He sighs, then says faintly, 'but—' suddenly a sob escapes your trembling lips. Surprised by it, you swiftly cover your mouth.

Alhaitham reacted quickly, pulling the quilts down to see you weeping uncontrollably. When he saw you in that state. His heart were shattered into pieces seeing you in that condition.... He hates it, he hates seeing you cry.

He daintily wiped your tears away and kissed you on the temples and next your forehead, also cupping your cheeks. You, on the contrary, are at a loss for words, mustering the confidence to speak up, 'Hait—-!!!' a quick sweet kiss pressed against your plump lips.

'Ahh!' You gasped, both lips parted, and the expression on his face was lustrous, though he kept the neutrality in it. The abrupt realization of what is happening causes your cheeks to heat up. 'Ahhn, Haitham! AH!... Wait, no, please!' squirming out of his towering figure.

—

Hands began to trace your contours, as if in adoration. Alhaitham then pulls your skirt's waistband...... and then your undergarment. A moan left your now swollen lips from the kiss as you felt his cold fingers under your skin. The ashen-haired man grins, the hue of his eyes darkening by the second.

'Hah~ Ah! ahh.... Nghh.. Haitham.' you looking at him eyes half-lidded. The gaze you gave him drove him over the edge. He couldn't wait any longer, so he began to slip his digit into your aching folds. 'AHHH! ' left your quivering lips, body trembling from his penetrating satisfaction. The way you called him in your angelic voice has skewed his judgment.

The unexpected stretch made your honeypot tighten even harder as he inserted another two of his digits. 'Hah~ so good for me.' Alhaitham can't contain his smirk from making you feel good. He then began to pace his digits faster, motioning where you felt the most ecstasy. Mind becomes hazy, don't know what is right and wrong. 'Hahh, please....' you said ‘I- I want it inside.. AHH!.. nghh mn... of me now.' The thrill has caused your eyes to close.

Alhaitham drew away, as if taking mercy on your predicament, or perhaps his desperation had reached its limit. Tears welled up in your eyes as he positioned his length with your thirsting cunt. He slowly pushes it inside then outside of your sobbing cunt. 'Aghh! S- so tight and... hah~ warm.' You can hear him growl near your ears, feeling the closeness and warmth of each other's bodies.

Shaky hands grasped their lover's toned back. A growl broke from his chest as he dove into your arms, his length thrusting completely into you. 'OH!' you mewled out from the stretch of his length, nails digging at his back and his shoulder blades.

Alhaitham feeling your walls clenched violently at his length, merciless pistons and teases your cunt with slow and deep thrusts. Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through your orgasm. Slapping of skins and the thick musky scent of your both filthy actions filling the room.

Feeling the knot in your stomach starting to form, you attempted to move your hips only to be halted by Alhaitham's unrelenting grasp on your thighs and hips. When he became aware of your foreboding knot, he drew his length out at your sobbing folds. Holding your thighs up, positioning unto his shoulders, he started to lick the honeypot that was presented to him.

‘Ah-hh ahh~’ Alhaitham kept slurping all those liquids out. You whined loudly at him, vocalizing your exhaustion, as you felt his warm breath on your folds and his tongue tease ruthlessly.

‘.... no.’ Left his mouth. 'Huh?' You exclaimed, your consciousness beginning to waver. '....... I'm not done yet.' hazy scarlet eyes, now noticeable.

—

His pace was suddenly much faster, harder, and deeper. You clung on to dear life by strengthening your grip on his shoulder blades and your thighs on his enticing hips. He bit at your delicate neck, feeling his locks in your neck, as he neared your release and his. Squelching noises and moans filled the entire room once more. Eyes now rolling back from the overwhelming pleasure, back arching, mind went blank, limbs were limp, and nerves fried.

Alhaitham panting steadily at your shoulders, length still buried inside. You felt him stir, straining against the bed to unpin you from his frame, after a few more coarse pants and feverish breaths. ‘Hnn~ ahh-h… Hahh~’ you utter.

Pulling out his length, you could feel a thick string of mixed slick connecting through his tip and to your hole.

Your consciousness started to drift for real amidst the exhaustion you two had experienced a while ago. Alhaitham then shifted gently your sleeping form to the side, covered you with quilts, and walked out of the room.

As you awoke, you felt a sharp ache in your chest. When you tried to move your numb body, tears began to stream from your eyes, and then it turned into loud choked sobs.

Alhaitham was sipping coffee in the living room when he heard you weeping. He dashed into your shared bedroom and held you with great care, assisting you to sit up at the edge of the bed. He holds your hands softly and gently strokes the back of your palms, you still crying.

He inquired as to whether you were in pain or experiencing breathing difficulties, only for you to look away from his concerned gaze. Alhaitham felt that pang in his chest again, and after overcoming his guilt, he asked you again what you wanted.... him suddenly remembering, that you like your personal space. You didn't even spare a glance at him, just straight up responded, 'I- I.....' you then started to cry uncontrollably again.

—

His warmth in your hands disappeared, and his blurry figure walked out of the room. It makes you feel hopeless, but then he returns a minute later. You asked about seeing the shining thing on his palm, '.....what- What is that?' with a lethargic tone of speaking.

Alhaitham then queried with a breathy sigh; despite the fact that you can't see his face well due to your tears, you can tell he's nervous. '.... This.... is a wedding ring.' Your eyes widened as you looked up at him. He grinned now that he had your attention, you looking at him. 'I want to be your husband, not just legally, but also until we grow old and witness our child have a blissful life.'

'........ Wahh!? 'Not knowing what to say in response, you tried to move and hug (??) him, only to stumble. Yet in a breath of the wind, he caught your numb naked body. You then began to cry again at his embrace, nodding enthusiastically. 'Yes, yes! I- I'll marry you and make you my lawfully married husband and life partner… I do!!' You exclaimed, tears streaming down your cheeks, the man earning a smile from you ear to ear.

Truth be told, the sight was very silly because your clothings were all over the floor and your mattress was a mess. Yet, love triumphs when two individuals declare their adoration for one other.

Fin.

©️henkoukazue DON’T PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. exclusively only to read on Tumblr. thank you.

s/n: huaaah~!! now that it's finished i can now rest heheh :'D also hope you all enjoyed my fic,, and sorry again for the errors & everything. bahh! this was really hard to do (although it just took me 2 days😑lol), my brain was really jagged making this heuhusehu.. well that's all for now and the drabble for this will be updated who knows when (very soon) >v^)//✨✨

QUICK NOTE...!! QUICK NOTE! QUICK NOTE!!! yep this fic (some parts) were rushed, i'm very very sorry abt that fr and judgements or criticism even are accepted, feel free ;-) i take it as advice to further improve my writing skills, vocab and such tysmm!!

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