#but the first half of that week I spent just trying to catch up on sleep

[amochi]

A fucking break would fix me I need a fucking break

[supercutszns]

Luke x reader where a girl, daughter of Aphrodite, flirts with him and insults the reader, causing her to avoid Luke, but later he manages to find her and confesses that he actually likes them... I don't know if they should already be together or not, but I believe in you!!! you write very well :ooo

Sorry if the idea is bad or you wouldn't want to write something like that, if that's the case please pretend you never read this 🤡🤡🫶

true colours; luke castellan

wc + pairing: 3.6k, luke castellan x child of iris! reader

synopsis: everyone wants luke castellan, including you. curse your mother for getting your hopes up.

warnings: friends to lovers, reader is very insecure, bullying, lee fletcher & will solace cameo!! some angst with a fluffy ending

notes: thank you for the request!! as always this is longer than i anticipated but hope you like it :) i also combined it with another request for a child of iris reader (i also identify as a child of iris sometimes so i lovee writing for them) also i’m pretty sure lee + a lot of parts of this are ooc sorry but i havent read the books in about a year so hopefully everything’s fairly accurate!🌈

You knew this summer would be different because your mother sent her wishes twice as much. On the first day of July, when children flood into Camp Half-Blood like a hive of wild bees, a rainbow always lights up the sky. 

This year, there were two. 

As a child of Iris you’re technically supposed to be in the Hermes cabin. But your love for art, for music, for fun, has made you a particular favourite of the Apollo cabin. Most of your friends are there. They tolerate you singing in your soft, often unsure voice. They love when you catch sunlight and filter it into prisms of colour on their cabin walls. 

You’d probably move in there permanently if it weren’t for Hermes. Or rather, his son.

Over the last few months, in the sticky summer heat, your mother knew you would fall in love. 

It's not any surprise you love Luke. Everyone loves Luke. A fact that's becoming more obvious every passing day. 

It used to bother you less. You’ve always been his meagre, hopeless friend, never any real competition to these girls. You’d basically taken yourself out of the running and instead decided to pine after him in the very back of your mind. A safe, deluded fantasy that would never happen. 

Until recently, where it seems less like a fantasy and more like a terrifying possibility. 

Over the past few weeks Luke has gone out of his way to be sweet to you. Or at least you think so. He’s spent extra time talking to you at lunch, laughing at your half-formed jokes almost in earnest. At bonfires he saves you a seat, grabs you a marshmallow on occasion. You even made him a friendship bracelet of sorts—admittedly a little ugly—but he’s never taken it off. Not since the day you gave it to him. 

Not to mention helping you last week before the archery competition. His hands lingering over yours as he steadied your bow, the curls of his breath on the back of your neck when he stood behind you. 

“Don’t be nervous,” he says, a tinge of mirth in his voice. “You just steady your aim and first is as good as yours.”

(You came in fifteenth.)

You don’t want to say that it’s him weakening your aim, making your pulse beat out of your neck. His nose brushes against the back of your jaw as he leans forward and you smell the pine on his skin. Is this friendly? Is he this close on purpose? Are you delusional?

It’s all you’ve been thinking about these past few days. So when Luke Castellan’s endless admirers come to the forefront of your mind, you feel like all those moments of potential buildup have been ripped away. 

“You alright there, sunshine?” 

He takes you out of your spiral with a teasing lilt you love. When you look at him, his face is a shimmering warmth, complete with boyish smile. 

“Yep,” you reply, trying to ignore the nickname making your insides flutter even though you know he’s saying it ironically.

You’ve always had a gift for identifying colour. It’s the thing you pay attention to most. Something inherited from your mother, you suppose. So you’ve memorized the way Luke’s eyes melt in the sunlight. How his scar blends with his pinking cheeks when it’s hot outside. You never told him, and you probably never will, but you’ve painted him from memory quite a few times in the Apollo cabin—always with the excuse that you were practicing. It's so blatantly obvious you're in love with him there's no point in your friends bringing it up.  

The two of you are meandering around camp before dinner, a tradition Luke started early on in the summer. You talk about high points of your day (mostly you) or share nuggets of gossip you’ve heard around camp (mostly him). It's the thing you looked forward to every morning. A time when his words are just for you. 

Idle chatter flows as you keep walking. Sometimes your arm brushes his and you have the embarrassing urge to tug yours away. You do your best not to stare at him too long or laugh too loud at his jokes. 

“Hey, Castellan!” Someone calls. 

Luke’s head turns. Your heart plummets. A beautiful girl, Aphrodite cabin, you think, is heading towards you. She’s all honey-spun hair and dazzling pink lips, and it’s obvious she knows it. You don’t know her name. But Luke does. 

They fall into conversation the second she arrives. It’s just greetings, pleasantries, but there’s a coy smile on the girl’s face that betrays any sense of disinterest. “Heard you’re not too keen on pairing up with us for the Chariot Race next week. What gives?” Her tone is pouty and playful as she taps Luke’s shoulder. She side-eyes you, lips curling imperceptibly. “I’m sure you’ll have a better chance with us.”

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Dunno, just thought it was fine to switch it up.”

Just like that, you’re out of the loop again. More of her friends flock after her, and soon Luke is tangled in a whole other world. They’re all glowing with a kind of righteousness you only get when you’re popular. You know Luke has friends, tons of them. He's the leader of the cabin with the most campers. Not to mention assertive and gorgeous. His presence is so inviting it’s a challenge not to fall in love with him. 

So you can’t blame this girl, the one that keeps touching his arm and giggling. It’s not like you’ve staked your claim on Luke—no one even knows you exist. As much as you want him to be yours, you know you’ll never stop someone from taking him first. It’s your fatal flaw, you think. Cowardice. 

You end up sidelined completely. Watching him swathed in people more charismatic than you plants an ache deep inside you. All your wishful thinking feels sour now, a pipe dream, a bedtime story to help you sleep better. Somehow it hurts more knowing that it’s nobody’s fault but yours. These people can’t be doing this on purpose. It’s just who they are. It’s who you are—always a step behind, always daydreaming. You are your mother’s daughter, after all. Just a prism reflecting everyone around you. 

Eventually, one of the boys in the group takes notice of you. He’s not nearly as captivating as Luke is—you don’t find the colours of his eyes hold as much depth. There’s also a haughtiness when he looks at you. He sneers, “What the hell do you have on your face?”

It draws the attention of others in the group. You feel like a naked sculpture in an art gallery. “Uh, what?” You stammer. 

Some of them purse their lips. The girl with Luke lets a laugh slip. You’re pretty sure you look like an idiot, waiting there with your brows wrinkled in a daze. Their gazes keep flicking over to your cheek, so your hand flies up there before you can delay any more. When you press your fingers to the side of your face, they come away tacky and pink. Mortification constricts you.

Paint. It’s leftover, half-dried paint. The colour of Luke’s cheeks in the sun. 

“Oh,” you say dumbly. It’s drowned by snickers. All you can do is find Luke, the only face you know, and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?” without sounding too hurt. 

You know you failed when your voice comes out wrong and his ebony brows push together. “I thought it looked—”

He never gets to finish because the golden girl laughs a little louder, the pink tones in her face a little darker. “Oh my Gods, you’re that Iris kid that’s always singing, right?” She giggles sharply, cornflower eyes darting between her friends. There’s something in there you can’t quite pick up on, until it flushes the pupils of all her friends, and they all grin with a secret knowledge they want you to see. “You’re, like, really good!” The girl simpers, but her bottom lip pulls between her teeth to soften another laugh. 

“Oh, so good!” Another friend piles on. 

Their passive-aggressive chuckles start to sound like hail on a window. You shift further away from them. Dirt slides beneath your shoe, and you long to kick up more of it, displace yourself, disappear. 

You don’t look at Luke. The giggly, flaxen girl has already turned back to him, and you’re sure he’s enthralled once more. You try to stir up the image of Luke’s closeness during archery practice, the lilac bruise on his knuckles when he angled your bow, but it doesn’t take. Now, it feels like you’ve dreamed it. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luke leaning down to catch a whisper from the Aphrodite girl’s ear. The boy that first commented on your cheek leans closer to you again. He’s suffocatingly smug when he grins, “Why are you still here? Shouldn’t you go … wash that off? You don’t want to look like that at dinner.” He snorts. “For an Iris kid, you really aren’t good at taking a message.” 

If you were a more confident person, maybe you’d point out how that didn’t really make sense, or how stupid it sounded coming out of his mouth. But the sentiment of it wounds you, and you’re weak enough as is. 

"Guess you're right," you mumble. You wipe your face of paint as you leave. The memory of Luke’s skin stains you until you wash your hands off in the sink. 

You haven’t talked to him since. 

It’s been a few days of you avoiding him, and it’s hard to explain to anyone why you’ve been doing it. How do you tell the truth? Luke Castellan is a work of art and you are … a weird doodle, or something. Despite your adoration, you know there’s no reason he should feel the same for you. Everyone loves him for a reason. Everyone must ignore you for one, too. 

“Why haven’t you been talking to Luke?”

The question breaks your concentrated silence in the Apollo cabin. You’ve been sitting here for a while now, humming to yourself over a mostly blank canvas. The cabin is dusted with a lilac haze, thanks to your manipulation of the light streaming through the windows. Helps you feel less like you’re at camp and more like you’re in a fairytale. 

“Helloooo, lady, I asked you a question.”

You begrudgingly look up. Lee Fletcher, head of the Apollo cabin, is at the mouth of the cabin, gazing at all your supplies strewn about the floor like they’re a bunch of unsavoury substances. “It looks like a hurricane came in here. Now why aren’t you talking to Luke?”

“How do you know I’m not talking to him?” You mutter as Lee sits beside you. 

“Uh, because you’ve been sleeping here multiple nights in a row and you never do that. And you don’t sit with him at dinner. And whenever we see him you drag me in the other direction—”

“Lee!”

“I’m just saying, you should probably talk about it. My beautiful voice can heal wounds, yes, but not of the heart.” He splays a hand across his chest in mock theatrics.

You don’t say anything. The familiar weight of the brush against your fingertips is far more comforting than trying to talk, so you busy yourself with your canvas again. “He waits for you, you know,” Lee continues, quieter. “In the morning. And before dinner. He always asks if you’re here.”

“Oh,” you say, and your wavering voice betrays your expression. But you think of everyone else at camp, their gleaming smiles and their celebrated parents, their own cabins and friends and dreams, how you don’t seem to have any of those. You think of the girl whispering in Luke’s ear. All her shades of beauty. You know it’s wrong to compare yourself, to be jealous. You’re just … sad.

The cabin darkens from a lilac to an imperceptibly gloomier shade. A blue sort of longing gets caught in your throat, blurring the colours on your canvas. But you keep your brush steady, focused on the scratch of its bristles so you don’t have to hear what you say next. 

“I think I love him, Lee.” And then, “But I don’t think he loves me.”

There’s no sound except the scraping of your brush when it’s run out of paint, and a sniffle when a tear rolls down your cheek. 

“Oh,” Lee fills the silence the way you did just moments before. Then he says your name, laced with pity, and hugs you on the floor of his lavender cabin. 

“You want to help me lead the bonfire song tonight?” He asks after a minute. “Or at least … come to the bonfire song?” 

“No to the first, yes to the second.”

You wish you said no to both. 

The spot you choose after dinner is right next to the fire so you can distract yourself with the golden flecks of flame. Fire is so fluid, so complex, from a colour perspective. But no matter how close you get, the searing warmth can’t hide Luke’s gaze peering over the embers. 

He will not. Stop. Looking at you. 

The singing from the Apollo kids usually soothes you but tonight it’s just making you anxious. All this attention so close to you. Will Solace has been sitting next to you this whole time, your unofficial assigned companion for the night thanks to Lee. One of his siblings beckons him over, and he shoots you an apologetic look, hesitating. "Just go," you wave off kindly. "It's all good." He's not entirely convinced, and you aren't either, but he squeezes your shoulder with thanks and leaves you anyway.

Now you’re acutely aware the space next to you is wide open. And so is Luke, it seems. There’s an awkward moment where your gazes slide over each other and he weaves out of his current crowd towards you. So you do the most mature, sound thing you could possibly do in this situation:

You say you have to go to the bathroom to no one in particular and get out of there. 

It’s dark, but you’ve got sharper eyes than most. Soon the noise of the campfire is behind you. You traipse through the camp towards the bathroom,but you don’t get far before you hear something that makes your stomach drop in the worst and best way. 

Luke, calling your name. 

At first you think you can get away with not hearing him. Then he calls a second, a third, a fourth time, punctuated with, “Come on, I know you can hear me, can you just turn around?”

He’s got longer legs than you so the next time he speaks it’s practically in your ear. “Hey, just look at me. Please. I want to talk to you.”

There’s something so tender in his voice that it makes you cave immediately. But you already feel so fragile, you can feel the tears behind your eyes. You know you won’t have the strength to talk to him. 

His hand curls gently around your wrist and it sends warmth all the way up your arm. He says your name again, softer, and you love the way it sounds. You can’t meet his eyes, but you already know what he looks like. Even in the dark you picture him crystal clear. 

“Look at me,” he repeats. “I just—I need to know what I did wrong.”

His dark eyes are full and apprehensive when you heed him. You notice how much you’ve missed studying his face—the slight bunch of his brows, the tensing in his jaw. And you almost delude yourself that he’s missed you just as much, the way he squeezes your wrist and rakes over your expression.

“Why are you ignoring me?” He asks. 

“I’m not—”

“You are. I know you. Just tell me why.” 

He looks so sweet, so earnest, and it kills you. You think of the way he looked when all his friends made fun of you. It all comes up before you can help it. 

“Do you always let me walk around looking like an idiot?” You ask bitingly, staring at the floor. “The thing, with the paint on my cheek—why didn’t you tell me? I looked so stupid and all your friends just laughed at me!” 

His face falls. “I tried to tell you, I thought—”

“It’s okay to say you don’t like me, or that you’re embarrassed, or whatever, but I …” You swallow, tears thick on your lower lashes. “Everyone makes fun of me. I don’t know why you don’t.”

“Because I do like you,” he states, hand moving up to your forearm. 

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re so much … better, you know you are, and I don’t want your pity, or your spare time. I just—I made something up in my head that wasn’t there and I only noticed it the other day after you talked to that girl and that guy made fun of me and I’m really, really sorry—”

“It looked cute. I was trying to say I didn’t tell you about the paint because I thought it was cute.”

There’s a lull.

“What?” You blink stupidly. 

“I know I should’ve told you about it, but I swear I was going to before dinner, I didn’t think we’d run into anyone before then.” His cheeks tinge red. “I had this whole dumb thing planned out where I’d wipe it off your cheek and tell you how cute it was once you got embarassed. I was waiting to tell you. I was thinking about it the whole time.”

His hand on your arm is a frighteningly grounding thing. You're dumbstruck by that alone. Your lips part, but all that comes out is, “Why?”

A gentle laugh tumbles out of his throat. “Why do you think?”

His other hand comes up to brush your cheekbone, where the paint had been, and you can imagine him doing it to you on that day. How you'd probably react just the way he said you would, the way you are now. A warm orange glow blooming in your chest. “But the girl—”

“She tried whispering to me how much she liked my bracelet,” he smiles fondly. “Told her you made it for me. It shut her up. I don’t know what that guy said to you but I chewed ‘em all out the second you left. They knew I wasn’t happy. I tried looking for you but you were gone. I don't like them, you know."

You don’t know what to say. It’s too difficult, too uncertain for you to jump the gun on this. So you just stare at all the shifting colours on his face as he moves closer to you. All this time going over his every detail, and there's still more to be enthralled by.

“I found the paintings,” he says, voice so close you can feel it brushing your skin. “The ones of me. I was looking for you in the Apollo cabin a week ago and you left one out. I knew it was yours because ... I mean, there’s no one in the world that can make me look that … beautiful.” 

The last word is apprehensive but it’s spoken with an unimaginable tenderness. He looks a little teary himself. You think you’re dreaming. “I knew I had to tell you after that. I’ve been trying to tell you. But you started pulling away from me so I thought I was making it all up.”

“Tell me what?” It’s a ghost of a question between you, an impossible thing, but the hand on your arm slips around to your back and he presses it there with such certainty. 

“You’re really gonna make me say it?” He cocks his head, but you nod. “I’m in love with you, I think.”

The words cascade over you in ribbons of warmth. Your brain feels fuzzy, seperate from the rest of your body. Your mouth opens multiple times but you can’t seem to control what comes out. “Luke, are you joking?”

“Not even a little.”

“But you’ve got so many other—”

“I want you.”

“I am literally the most incompetent person alive; I can’t sing, I can’t talk to people, I have a weird knee—”

"Your knee is fine!"

"I'm just saying, this makes no sense from an outsider perspective, it's—"

“Okay, clearly the telling thing isn’t working so I guess I’m just gonna have to kiss you.”

It happens so quickly you don’t have any time to think (probably for the better). You let out a surprised “oh” before his mouth silences you, stopping every other thought. He’s gentle, thumb still rubbing your cheekbone, other hand still firm at your waist. You want to panic—where should you put your hands? How do you know you’re doing this right? But he steadies you, the way he always does, and you give in. 

He starts to smile against your lips. You’re almost positive the intensity of your heartbeat could summon a storm. When he pulls away, he kisses the corners of your mouth and you think you’re going to evaporate. “I don’t think I’m very good at this,” you whisper.

“You’re perfect.” He grins a little when your hands tentatively tug at a curl on the nape of his neck. “And none of that stuff you say is true. I mean, you’re definitely a better singer than me.”

Leaning close to your ear, he warbles out a song you know but gets the words horribly wrong anyways. You can’t help but laugh. “Okay, maybe you have a point.”

He hums and chuckles with you. You swear the moon gets brighter when he wraps his arms around your waist to kiss the side of your face. “Next time you paint me, I want to be there when you do it.”

You blush harder than you ever have in your life. “Only if you try painting me,” you say quietly.

“Of course. You’re very pretty, so I’m sure my horrible artistic skills won’t even make you look bad.”

Luke lets you press your face into the crook of his neck. You soak it up for all it’s worth. 

In the morning, you wake up in the same position. Your nose tucked against his collarbone, the shade of pink you love freckled across his cheeks. You can't wait to paint him again.

When you look out the window, you say a silent, grateful prayer to your mother.

She's given you two more rainbows.

[dearest-nell]

charmed

e. munson x reader, 3k

summary: eddie comes home from a long day at work to discover wayne has a pretty surprise for him includes: established!eddie x reader, wayne being the sweetest paternal figure, mumblings of a found family, wayne manifesting a daughter in law by years end warnings: afab reader, non descript

a/n: writing from the boys perspective is always way more fun. i have so many thoughts about wayne and eddie's relationship.

Eddie had intended to be home earlier, a far cry earlier than the 9:30 that blinked hazily on his vans dashboard as he pulled in before the trailer. He was meant to be home hours ago, hoping to enjoy a Friday night the way that a young person ought to – out with the people he loved. Instead he sat in his driver's seat, covered in oil and grime and god knows what else from under the hood of some deadbeat richman from the other side of town. The apprentice had fucked the repair of a rather pricey car, one that was to be picked up first thing monday, and Eddie didn’t have it in him to let the little guy drown under the barrage of abuse from an intimidating customer. 

So he stayed back, and now he was paying the price. Dinner would have been long over by now, and it was unlikely that Wayne was still home at such an hour. He usually had the night shift on this pay cycle, but Eddie couldn’t tell one from another these days. The lights were still on, his indication that he’d gotten his weeks wrong. 

Worn leather boots beat against the gravel as he trekked towards the door, hand running through the curls that hung low on his forehead; wild, in desperate need of a trim. He was spent, body weary and limp from the extra strain. He wanted to call his friends, to call you, to ask for good company, but he knew even now he was too tired to go anywhere. 

The door was unlocked, so he slipped into the warmth of the trailer with an involuntary shiver, eyes blinking tiredly to spot the figure propped up on the couch. Wayne. Beer in hand, chin shadowed with stubble; Eddie’s hero, if anyone were to ever ask. The old man was his favourite person, whether he knew it or not. 

Wayne gave a gruff smile, tilting his chin up at his nephew. “Long day, boy?” 

“Yeah.” Eddie breathed, voice more gravelly than he’d realised. “Got stuck back, sorry I didn’t call.” 

Wayne shrugged. “I figured, though there’s a surprise in your room f’you.” 

A surprise? Eddie couldn’t possibly guess what. “You’re joking.” 

Wayne simply smiled in response, shaking his head. “You go have a look ‘n tell me if I’m joking. Just be quiet about it.” 

Eddie gave a quizzical sort of look, boots resounding against the floorboards as he moved towards the room, a quick mumble from Wayne catching his attention again. 

“Quieter than that.” 

Eddie scoffed, his demeanour still playful despite his disbelief. He took more careful steps this time, readjusting the band wrapped clumsily around his bound tresses, trying to alleviate the steadily subsiding headache from two hours ago. Wayne had never been much of a secret keeper, nor was he one for dramatics. He was a pragmatic, realistic, nonfrivolous sort of man, which made that excitable little sparkle in his uncle’s eyes all the more amusing. Wayne didn’t play tricks, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel he was walking into one. 

With a slow turn of his door handle, Eddie eased the gap open, his eyes scanning the silent dark until his gaze settled upon the mountain of blankets upon his bed. There, buried under three blankets of comfort, was you. It might have been hard to tell under any other circumstances, but even half asleep and exhausted out of his mind, Eddie knew he could recognise your silhouette anywhere. He softened instantaneously, body slackening slightly under the slow wave of adoration that overcame him. You were here to see him. Talk about a surprise, he hadn’t expected to see you today, and now he felt his ribs pressing in tightly together, chest constricting with a glad sort of giddiness. 

He was gentle in closing the door again, his smile bemused at his now grinning uncle. “And how’d my girl end up in there, hm?” 

He toed off his boots, movements suddenly precise and careful under the presence of your company. Even through the closed door, he had no desire to rouse you just yet. Not until he was ready, clean and showered and shed of all other obligations, able to dedicate himself to your company. 

“She came by at 5,” Wayne explained, turning down the quiet shout of the television set with a well worn remote, “thought you’d be home soon, wanted to surprise you. I told her she was welcome t’wait, thinkin’ you’d be round earlier. But y’weren’t, so we had some dinner.” 

Wayne paused, nudging his chin towards the fridge, which Eddie took to mean there was leftovers waiting for him inside. He began rustling through, finding what was left of a roast and vegetables wrapped up neatly in foil. It was a little more extravagant than he had expected, and Eddie chalked that up to your aid in the kitchen. He could see the container of biscuits on the counter, too, with little hearts and flowers piped onto the tops. Pinks and blues and reds and whites, this wasn’t a house for sweets and softness, though Eddie welcomed your charms in any way he could get them. He sat at the table to feast, unbothered to even reheat the feast. 

Wayne continued on. “Thought she might go lookin’ for y’, but we got a’talking. She’s a real sweet thing, y’know, made a real effort to chat. Even offered to sit down ‘n watch a game with me, thought I didn’t have the heart t’put her through it. Ended up watchin’ some Antiques Roadshow thinkin’ she’d like it better; you ever seen me watchin’ that before? I ain’t never had much care, but we had good fun.”

“No shit!” Eddie piped up, astounded by the softened edges of his Uncle. You’d charmed him, he thought, with your curious questions and kind smiles. For Wayne to sit down and talk to anyone was a miracle, one that only an angel could perform. His Angel. 

“We got guessin’ and everythin’.” Wayne added, wiping roughly at his smile. “Seemed tired, though, so I told her to crash in your room. She’s been out maybe half an hour.” 

Astounded was an understatement. Eddie had brought girls home before he met you, though none had bothered to exchange more than polite pleasantries with his Uncle. He’d never been serious about them, so he’d never thought much of it, and then came you. Three months into this new connection, a relationship born of spring flowers and whisky nights and loud music and soft touches. Eddie had never been serious until now, until you, and now he couldn’t picture being anything else but. 

He was glowing, beaming from ear to ear. “So you like her, then?” He was so hopeful in his question, a sincerity Wayne only ever saw reserved for the most heartfelt of Eddie’s dreamings. 

“I do.” Wayne announced, washing down his contentment with another swig of his beer. “I hope y’re serious ‘bout her, she’s real soft on you, and I think she’s a good one. Seems to make you happy enough, you ain’t mopin’ nearly so much these days.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, groaning with faux annoyance, rolling foil into a tiny ball to toss across the room, missing Wayne by a good foot of space. “I don’t mope.” 

“I don’t mope my ass, kid, you mope plenty. Just not anymore.” He was laughing now, worn lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “I said she should come back f’dinner another night, we can all eat together. She was tellin’ me ‘bout this story she was readin’, and I’ll be damned if I don’t know how it ends.” 

Eddie knew how this story ended; it ended with you. It began with you, too. It was all you, he couldn’t see any other ending for him. 

“Yeah, that sounds good, old man.” He was doing his best to stomach the meal, but his words were caught around hastily eaten mouthfuls half chewed and uneasy to swallow. He’d give himself heartburn if he wasn’t careful, and it would have been worth it. 

Eddie took a moment to pause, swallowing thickly, belching unceremoniously in a way he was glad you weren't there to witness. “I am serious, y’know, about her. Real serious. I got a good feeling.” 

“Yeah?” Wayne questioned, sinking back into the sofa. 

“Yeah. She could be the one; ain’t that somethin’? I always thought it was bull when people said you just know, but…” he laughed with astonishment, “I think I just know.” 

“Well shit,” Wayne exclaimed, clearing his throat, “that’s real good, Ed’s. You just be good and treat her nice. Be a gentleman.” 

Eddie wasn’t too sure he knew how to be a gentleman, but somehow, he knew you liked him all the same. He didn’t need to be anything but himself around you, and that was a one in a billion kind of feeling,

He was quick in his cleaning, fumbling around the kitchen to pack away a still soaking plate, his mind skating over the plastic drying rack by the sink entirely. “I’m bein’ good, I swear.” 

“Bullshit.” Wayne teased, shaking his head. He braced himself on his knees, slowly rising to his feet with a groan. “I’m goin’ to bed. Tell her she’s welcome to stay whenever she likes, okay? Show her where the spare key is.” 

“I will.” Eddie nodded, barely able to fight his slow building excitement. He could feel himself getting restless, hands flexing just at the thought of holding you. “G’night, Wayne.” 

“G’night son.” He echoed back, disappearing into the quiet of his own room. 

Eddie made sure to lock up on his way, switching off the tv and lights as his own sort of wind down ritual. They’d be on all night if he wasn’t careful, and he’d spied the last bill long enough to have a mind for the electricity now. Besides, he needed to be calm when he woke you. He’d half frightened you to death last time he came barrelling in. 

Once again, he retreated towards his room, slipping into the dark like a shadow of the night, slowly shucking his way out of his overalls to kick to the side of the room. He didn’t mind staining his sheets with oil, but not you; you were something worth caring for. He knew he should have showered, but the sweat on his skin could hardly deter him from the need he had to be close to you, to ease away the troubles of his way with the balm of your skin against his, your whispers ringing in his head. 

He fumbled his way to the edge of the mattress, your sleeping body facing away from him to the back wall of the room. He peered a little closer into the darkness, a sliver of moonlight cascading across the bare curve of your shoulder, arm wrapped around something small, something fuzzy…

“Well shit, Ted, what’re you doing in here?” Eddie hadn’t thought to consider where the ragdoll cat had scampered off to. Teddy had been adopted only a few weeks after Eddie came to live with Wayne, his Uncle’s way of easing the boy into this entirely new world together. Teddy had been his childhood companion, and by the way he was burrowed into the pudge of your stomach, purring louder than a car engine, Eddie could see you’d won him over too. 

The cat barely stirred, rather giving him a grumbled sort of chirp at being disturbed, before wriggling his way further under the blankets. You, however, made the softest of whining noises that left Eddie’s heart near strangling in his chest. He lifted a ring clad hand to that moonlight shoulder, brushing callouses across the line of freckles that dusted your skin, watching as your eyes began to flutter open, head turning slightly to face him. 

“Eddie!” No one in the world had ever been so enthusiastic to see him before, not one. His name wasn’t the kind to roll off the tongue, to be begged for or shouted out or held tenderly on someone's lips. Never before, but the way your mouth wrapped around the letters seemed to change the word entirely. Nothing had ever sounded so tender, so wanting, so pleased. You were always pleased to see him, a feeling he never had to doubt when he could see it so plainly reflected in your irises. 

“Honey.” He cooed back, tugging up the corner of the bedsheets to slip beneath them, curving his body to fit the shape of your own, nudging his knee between your two just to feel your skin pressed against his own in every possible way. The hair on his body was just as wild as the hair on his head, but nothing felt like home to him more than the brush of your skin to the mess of his. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

You exhaled a lengthy yawn, muffling the sound into his pillow with a hum. Your hair, once styled, now seemed mussed and flattened under the weight of your head. His bed linens were already tattooing precious creases into sleep warmed skin. You were too beautiful for him to even comprehend. 

You turned in his arms, careful not to disrupt the grumbling cat beside you despite your eagerness. He felt arms press their way around him, your nose nuzzling at his chin. “Wayne let me in. I hope that’s okay.” 

Literally nothing else could have been more okay in his mind. It was perfect. This was perfect; coming home to you. “Come by anytime, baby. I’m just sorry I wasn’t back sooner. I made you wait.” 

You shook your head. “I didn’t mind. Wayne’s really cool. He kept me company.”

“So I heard.” His voice was edged with an air of amusement, his hand lifting to brush back the strands of hair falling across your face, leaving his palm to cup at the plush of your cheek, his eyes admiring even in the dark. “Antiques Roadshow?”

You let out a giggle. “We panicked! I was trying to make a good impression, and he suggested it so I thought why not. Honestly it was pretty fun, I could totally watch another episode.” 

“Mm.” His lips met the button of your nose dotingly, his voice slackening to a syrupy smoothness. “He’s impressed, I’m impressed; you’ve got us Munson men wrapped around your pretty little finger. Even Teddy’s on your side.” 

“I do not!” You chided, helpless against his onslaught of affection. He left you preening and giddy, a little lightheaded when he loved on you like this, and Eddie never had any intention of stopping. “Teddy just wanted a cuddle.”

“Him and me both.” Eddie asserted, snaking his other arm beneath the arch of your waist, wrapping around the small of your back to tug you in further, his smile resoundingly bright at the way you hummed happily. “We’re not too young to be asleep by 10, are we?” 

The way you eased into the very fabric of him, your bodies so close and so connected, wrapped tightly in the warmth of his room, was enough assurance to him that you were just as content here as he was. “No. I’m not leaving this spot. You just got home, and I’m all sleepy, and Ted’s gonna get mad if we move.” 

Ted chirped an affirmative sound, leaving Eddie to rasp a laugh. “Well we can’t make Teddy mad, can we. Gotta stay here all night with my girl.” 

You chuckled softly in turn, your voice quieting under the weight of exhaustion. “I was meant to keep you company, but I’m so sleepy.” Another yawn parted your plush lips, leaving Eddie with no choice but to press his own to the corner once they came back together again. 

“You are keepin’ me company. Think I’ll sleep a bunch better with you keepin’ me warm. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow, hm? After a big sleep in?” 

“You’re so sexy when you talk like that.” You mumbled, your lashes fluttering shut to rest against your cheeks. “I’d kiss you stupid if I could move.” 

Besotted was not a strong enough word for what Eddie felt in that moment, but he was overwhelmed with the urge to litter a smattering of kisses from the edge of your cheekbone to the corners of your forehead, each one softer than the last, lulling you into that sweet place of slumber you were already drifting towards. 

“Kiss me stupid tomorrow. Sleep, sweetheart.” You didn’t need to be told twice. Within moments, Eddie watched the light in your flicker to a dim, pale glow, your breathing evening out to something unhurried. Peaceful. It didn’t matter to him that he had only had those brief moments with you tonight. Five minutes with you was enough to chase away all the strife of a day otherwise written off in his mind. And that was what his life had been missing, after all. Someone who made going to sleep at 10pm look like the greatest moment of his life. He wanted to keep you to himself, a greedy kind of possessiveness stirring in his gut, for as long as he was able, knowing full well that less than twelve hours from now, Wayne would without a doubt be waiting to make you both breakfast on his morning off. 

Like he said, you had all the Munson boys charmed.

[windser]

thinking more about streamerbf!kenma and how his subscribers have been pestering him about a q&a but kenma just hates the idea of just talking about himself. he’s fine having the sole attention on him while he’s playing games, used to idle chatter and occasional questions about his play style. but thirty minutes of what it’s like to be kenma ?

hard pass.

he complains about this to you one night, head tucked into your lap while you run your fingers through his scalp. he was approaching another significant subscriber milestone and his usual rewards aren’t cutting it. they just want to get to know you kenma, you try to reason. but all you get in return is a soft grown that could double as a whimper.

as a moderator, you know how his fans can get. social media in general when they unite under the same goal. no, this will hit a pinnacle if not handled carefully. part of you gets it. it took quite a bit of time for kenma to open up to your social agenda. from inquiring from his favorite type of bird to how he decides on what video game to play next, you spent what feels like years now getting to know your other half. now your boyfriend hardly even blinked while answering your-

at the thought, your lip purses in consideration.

days later, kenma only gives you a questioning grunt when you slide beside him during his stream. a few months ago, he’d purchased you a more comfortable chair to lounge in to share the same space as him. he rarely minded when you did, but usually you’d give him a heads up.

his chat is well trained enough at this point to know when you’re around.

user795: is that them? user23: hiiiiiiiii!! welcome user55: are they going to play today ?

you follow the messages with a hint of a smile, only giving a little wave in frame before turning to kenma. your boyfriend had removed the headphone closest to you, a small acknowledgment that always sent your heart a flutter.

off screen, you massage the top of his thigh which earns you a another quick glance and a slight slouch as he relaxes into your touch.

“ken, what was your first ever game you played ?”

now this gets you a longer look, one accompanied by a furrow brow and confusion. his lips move in a mumble but audible enough to hear however as he concedes without question, "mega man.”

from the corner of your eye, you see that chat reacting to his answer, some acknowledging it either familiarity and others new to it.

user124: ohhh i played that. good game man user775: i think my cousin played that but i’ve never seen it. can you still get that? user65: @user775 the og? you need backwards compatibility i think but yes user8895: i had a hard time beating that one. has kenma ever been beaten by a game?

still following the chat, you catch the question and propose it to kenma. with you here, he minds the chat a little less closely, only catching up when he breaks between missions.

“in middle school you played this one game for what felt like weeks, did you ever beat it?”

kenma shifts his leg under your touch, redirecting the circle of your thumb to a new spot. “tactics ogre? no, i kept getting stuck on the last boss. tetsuro asked to borrow it to try but he lost it.”

he’d obviously been miffed by the lost game but apparently not enough to repurchase it and probably complete it. that note didn’t seem to be lost to the chat.

user321: damn at least we know he’s human. even kenma gets stumped user642: to be fair that was a tough one. even the creator acknowledged that it was tough on players on release user533: i bet he could beat it now. that should be his next walkthrough.

“ah,” you bite your lips when kenma's gaze flickers briefly to the chat. “yeah, i might. i already have it in my library.”

grinning, you give him a light squeeze catching his eye in return before they went back to his game. you browse the slowly rolling in questions carefully, weeding through the more repetitive ones to find ones with more substance.

“did you ever play anything other than volleyball growing up?”

you wince when your boyfriend full on turns to face you. that might have been too specific of a question, something you so obviously knew and had no reason to ask without context. so all you could do was give him your best pleading gaze, hoping he’d play along and ask later.

it’s not until he huff that you know you’ve won, his response coming right after if not with a bit of sass.

“i got nagged enough between you and tetsuro with just volleyball, that was more than enough.”

user863: looooool user3626: i can’t really imagine kodzuken playing anything else. like soccer, can you imagine? user6556: nah volleyball was fitting user3322: they’ve always been familiar but how long have you guys actually dated?

your mouth opens and close sky soundlessly on the taste of that one. you knew in general when kenma actually asked you out, just short of your second year in high school. back then, the two of you had been fumbling with your feelings for months. but you never really learned when those feelings actually seeded for him.

but that was a moment for off screen conversation. instead you ask

“our first date back in second year of high school, you took me to the arcade and i obliterated you in DDR, remember that?”

kenma fires back quickly,” after i put high scored you on every other one.”

it's impossible not to grin as you remember that day. what had started as an awkward date forty minutes in had lasted an additional three hours as the both of you eased back into your normal routine.

user7: ughhhh to have a gaming s/o user6552: they’re so cute goals man user172: are they actually gamers ? user032: @user172 kenma plays some games with them on stream. they’re actually pretty good user4534: ohhh kodzuken never talks about his his favorite snacks, can you ask what those limited ones he always eats are?

that was an easy enough questions that got written off as your own ignorance. while you often did the grocery shopping, kenma placed most of his snack orders online. partly due to its limited availability and other reasons pertaining to it being out of country. kenma responds easily in turn.

user333: wait, is this the q&a we've been asking? user405: omg i have soo many questions saved!!!! i didnt realize it was today user7532: i thought kodzuken didn't want to do this? user89305: @user7532 well he's answering questions like he is

you frown as the chat explodes with activity, some questioning the validity of the 'event' others spamming the feed with their questions. it's more than enough to draw kenma's attention away from his other screen and you find yourself pausing as he tenses under your touch.

while you hadn't maliciously tricked him, you had coerced him into this. he'd have every right to scold you for it. you wince when he scoffs, preparing for the brunt of it. but what comes next is just a sigh as he shifts in his chair, the movement inviting your hand to rest comfortably more towards the inside of his thigh as he leaned back.

"you guys ask too many questions, this is why i didn't want to do this q&a. if you get too much for them to handle, i'm going to end the event."

and while his words sound stern, he truly does harvest a bunch of excited individuals as the stream only explodes even more with enthusiasm and inquiries.

frankly way too many for you to keep up with as you bewilderly try to scan the chat for feasible ones to ask. when you finally identify one and turn to ask, you find kenma watching you with that smug pull of his lips.

"well what's next?"

bonus:

eventually, kenma had taken over selecting his own questions as the stream properly shifted into the q&a event, title change and all. the chat adjusted to the new handler as well, being more strategic about their question timings in order to get the most of his attention.

every so often you would chime in, but you mostly relaxed back in your own chair with your legs resting across his lap.

you weren't sure how long exactly you expected this event to go, but you knew it was getting late. not necessarily for a kodzuken stream, but in the day in general.

it was kenma's touch now, that stroked your skin as his gaze followed the never ending influx of questions.

user345675: has he talked about hinata shoyo yet? user09432: i feel like people are asking the same questions user869320: will you ever have guests on your stream? user9642: kodzuken what is it like to run your own company?

intrigued enough, he opened his mouth to reply when another question rolled in

kenmaskitten: what does kodzuken want for dinner?

you look up from your phone as kenma's attention shifts to you. he holds your gaze as he replies,

"i want katsu."

you shrug, easy enough and all the ingredients are probably in the kitchen. however, as you go to slide your legs away, kenma captures one ankle.

"and apple pie."

that was less simple and tastes like a reward.

[reiderwriter]

ACK I'm so excited that your requests are open again! Um okay, this one feels a bit silly but I'd love a fic where fem!bau!reader is really attracted to Spencer and the way that he smells? (I just KNOW that man smells like cinnamon and a Scholastic Book Fair.) Like, she's been doing a good job hiding her crush from the team, until Spencer catches her eyes dilating at him when he's standing close. And he's an oblivious king, so he's trying to figure out why they were dilated. If it could be race blind like my last request, and from Spencer's POV, that'd be great. (Or split POV, if you'd rather). I really see this as fluff, but if you want to include angst or smut go right on ahead! Thank you for reading my request! Your writing makes my day.

-❤️‍🩹

A/N: This was so fun and silly, and I love writing awkward, puppy love Spencer because sometimes you just have to let yourself become mildly infatuated with a coworker. For the plot. Or at least character development. I hope you like this one!!

Warnings: none.

Masterlist

You thought you'd settled into work well in your first few weeks as a member of the BAU. You thought you were up to speed about everything going on in the office. There was just one mystery left to solve.

“Where is that smell coming from?” You whispered to yourself, frustratedly sniffing the air for the second day in a row as you attempted to locate the warm, delightful smell that seemed to follow you whenever you were in the office.

“Could be one of Garcia's scented candles. They tend to linger,” JJ said from her corner of the bull pen.

“No, I checked earlier and she said they made her throw those out weeks ago.”

Honestly, it was not knowing that was driving you insane. If you knew what the smell was, you could bottle it, spray it all around yourself, and wrap yourself in it like a little blanket. It somehow reminded you of home and of the public library you'd spent much of your childhood in.

After another day of being able to figure out whoever had bought the scent version of the Scholastic Book Fair mixed with homemade cinnamon buns, you gave up. 12 hours of paperwork, and you were just as excited to get away from the sight of brown folders as ever, and as everyone else in the bureau, evidently.

Grabbing your bag, you got in the line for the elevators alongside your team.

“Ready for the crush?” Derek said, punching Spencer Reid on the arm as they waited ahead of you.

“Ow,” the younger man muttered and you tried to hold your giggles back, rolling your eyes as you watched them in amusement.

Derek’s words were true, though. Every day at home time, the elevators packed up quickly, and being on the middle floor meant that it could often take a while for the elevator to come back to you. You swore it was half the reason Hotch stayed late most nights, just to avoid the crush of the trip home.

“I've been taking the DC public transport since I got this job. You think the elevators are bad. Try 8 am subway on a Monday morning.”

The doors opened, and the three of you climbed into the barely there space of the elevator. With a quick side step, you found yourself against the left wall of the elevator. But to your shock, the scent you'd been searching for for three weeks didn't dissipate as it usually did when you got on the elevator.

It was here. The source of the scent was here.

You tried to stay calm as it grew more potent, tried not to frantically look around searching for whatever man or woman was perfumed in heaven. The doors opened again, and more people squeezed in, and suddenly, you found yourself buried nose-first in whatever sensory heaven existed here on earth.

“Sorry,” you heard a mumble in front of you as Spencer held his hand against the wall above your head, trying to keep a polite enough distance so as not to squish you any further. Your mismatching heights, however, led to your face being just about level with his neck.

You really weren't trying to smell him, but you had to inhale, and each time you did, it was a sensory overload.

It was him. Dear God, it was him.

The proximity and his scent really weren't helping your brain stop short circuiting in that moment, and you had to remind yourself after a minute or two or three that you were staring.

Though evidently Spencer had already noticed, and was looking at you with some concern.

“Are you okay? It's pretty tight in here, but I can try and move back if you're uncomfortable.”

“No! No, it's okay,” you did your best not to shout the words out, suddenly wanting his smell and his body close forever.

You hadn't been looking before, but like a freight train at maximum speed, the weight of his attractiveness hit you all at once. There was a slight stubble peppering his jaw, his hair hanging slightly loose, eyes big, and brown, and beautiful. He was tall, and you knew he was strong from watching him manhandle unsubs each week.

To put it blankly, you spiralled. Hard. Straight into infatuation and attraction, and you felt your head growing light with the tipsy feeling of a girlish crush.

You were fucked.

Spencer was concerned about you for the next week.

For starters, he knew that most new hires pushed themselves to the extreme over the first month and ended up quickly burnt out, mentally and physically. He may not have the best physical stamina, but he knew the lengths he had to go to to maintain his mental and physical wellness while working the job.

Which was why he started looking out for you a bit more. Every time he looked at you, you were staring off into space, somewhere just past him, or around him, face glazed over.

He wondered if you had a fever a few times, subtly touching your forehead - wiping away some sweat or a strand of hair - to feel you, and you did always feel hot.

You insisted you were fine though. But the nervous panic, and the constant insistence made him wary enough to pull you aside one day and ask you straight to your face.

“Do you need something?” He said, having unassumingly lured you off to the meeting room without arousing suspicions.

“What? What do you mean?” You said, instantly defensive. You'd hoped you hadn't been as creepy as you knew you had and that he hadn't caught on to your stolen glances and sudden close proximity.

You really couldn't help it. The man smelt too fucking good.

“If you're feeling sick, no one is going to think any less of you for taking a half day, you know.”

His voice was so gentle, you almost didn't die from sheer embarrassment. Almost.

“Oh! Oh, oh no, I'm fine, I'm totally healthy. As a cow!”

“A cow?”

“Yes, I'm as healthy as your average farm animal. Can I go back to work?”

You made to leave, but he grabbed your wrist gently as you brushed past him, and it was like sparks travelled up your arm and pierced your heart directly.

“Spencer!?” you squeaked.

“Your heart rate is elevated, and you feel hot and clammy,” he said, which was exactly the kind of compliment you were aiming to receive from men you were falling for. “You should go see a doctor and then get some rest.”

“No, Spencer, that's not-”

“Everyone pushes themselves in these first few weeks. I had to take a week off after two days in the field from the weight of holding a gun up for so long, which is more embarrassing than it sounds, and Derek-”

“What cologne do you use?” you snapped, desperately hoping to both shut him up and also detangle yourself from this situation with at least one win under your belt. If you found out whatever the smell was he used, you could buy it, grow accustomed to it, and grow out of whatever phase you were going through before you out your job in jeopardy.

“What?”

“You smell… really good. I was wondering what cologne it is.”

“I don't… I don't really use cologne.”

You baulked, unable to stop your face from dropping as your dreams of detaching yourself from your little crush on Spencer Reid faded before your very eyes.

“Shower gel? Shampoo maybe?”

“They're both unscented.”

“So you just… you just smell like that naturally?”

It was his turn to flush then, though the panic never left your head fully.

“Sorry, is it… distracting.”

“Yes,” you whispered, but with such an exhausted exhale, it sounded like a dreamt sigh. You wanted to kick yourself. You wanted to open his jacket, step inside, bury your face in his chest, and fall asleep.

“I see.”

“Mhmm.”

A minute passed in awkward silence, and you wanted to kick yourself for blurting everything out. Quickly turning to leave again, you wished so dearly to erase the last five minutes of your life, sending up enough hail mary’s to absolve you of any sin.

“Lavender. And sometimes patchouli,” he called from behind you as you took your first steps to the door.

“Hmm?” you said, turning back around against your better judgment.

“What?”

“That's what you smell like,” he explained, hands suddenly very preoccupied with his jacket buttons. “I'm not great with scents, but you also smell… nice. Sorry, that was weird.”

“No, not at-”

“You know, the major histocompatibility complex genes are important for the immune system and appear to play a role in sexual attraction via body odour. Studies have shown that body odour is strongly connected with attraction in heterosexual females.”

“Oh. I didn't know that…”

“Do you want to grab dinner with me?”

The words almost knocked you back into the door, as sudden as they were. Had he just asked you on a date? Or was it a friendly coworker thing? A friendly coworker thing where he acknowledged your attraction to his scent and then invited you out on a date.

“Yes?”

“Yes?”

“Yes. Yes, I would like to get dinner with you.”

He did his best to suppress the smile, and you tried hard as well, though neither of you succeeded.

“Great, perfect,” he said, circling you as he made his way to the door, his eyes always turned to you no matter what. He likely regretted that as he bumped into first the edge of a table, then a chair, and then hitting the door with his back, but in your state of puppy love, you didn't care.

“It's a date,” he said, opening the door and walking away, cheeks flushed with heat.

[rowarn]

okay i'm back to expand on toxic situationship simon vs smitten golden retriever könig fighting for ur attention!!!

when simon first met you, he had no intention of interacting with you let alone "dating" you. but it just kind of....happened. you had a way of worming your way into his thoughts and his life.

the problem was that he was not build for a relationship. he had problems. a lot of them. he wasn't the type to work on himself, he was the type to find distractions to cope with the mess that was in his head at all times.

the closer you tried to get to him, the further he pulled away. but then when you backed off, he remembered he needed you as a distraction. so he'd rein you back in only for the cycle to continue.

he ignored how much it hurt you, how sometimes your eyes would swim with tears when he gave you the cold shoulder and told you to leave him alone. it wasn't like you understood what was going on — simon refused to open up and tell you that he was just...fucking messy in the head. instead, he just let you think he was some sleazy douchebag who used you for a quick fuck only to toss to the curb when you annoyed him.

part of him wondered (but didn't care bc it benefited him) why you kept coming back after how much he hurt your feelings. but when he wasn't being an intentional jackass to get you to leave him alone for a week or two, he was a great guy. a gentleman. he spoke to you with a soft but not condescending tone and was patient even when you asked stupid questions. when he had you as his distraction, he enjoyed your company and you enjoyed his — only for him to turn around and spew vitriol out of left field.

it was during one of the times he had chased you off that you met könig. on an elevator of all things. the entire mechanical box shuddered with his weight and you were downright shocked as the hulking mass of him ducked to step in.

when you asked what floor, he spoke with a quiet, almost nervous tone to tell you. as you rode the elevator down, you couldn't help but notice how he sort of shrunk in on himself as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible — as if that was even possible. he was massive. he avoided your gaze in a way that was shy instead of suspicious.

it was kind of...cute.

when you both got off the elevator, the lobby, you took a deep breath and stopped him, asking as confidently as you could if you could have his number. his eyes had widened but he surprisingly didn't say no — jackpot!

tho you couldn't see all of his face — the bottom half of it covered by a mask and his large hood concealing his hair, you felt a bit of an attraction to him.

as you walked out, hastily typing his number into your phone as you parted ways, you realized you may have a thing for masked man since this man — könig, he had said with an accent, and the ass that was simon both wore masks.

in between the time of The Simon Cycle, you went on a couple dates with könig. he was charming and sweet, if not a little shy. he was clumsy and almost always bumped his head on doorways before shamefully rubbing the spot he bumped with a look of embarrassment in his eyes.

he was excitable and energetic. he loved animals and always pointed out whatever animals he saw while walking with you — people walking dogs, cats in windows, ducks floating on ponds.

the more time you spent with him, the more you forgot about simon.

until his name popped up on your phone one evening when you were spending an evening in with könig. it was nothing crazy, he wanted to watch his favorite horror movie with you (an ancient black and white).

könig caught sight of your frown as your phone rang, catching sight of the name 'simon' with a blank picture.

"who is this?" he had asked, tho it wasn't out of jealousy, just pure concern and interest.

you let out a sigh, "i dated him....sort of...? not really..." you had responded, earning a confused look from him.

you explained everything to him, from meeting simon all the through his on and off behavior. by the end könig looked upset on your behalf, shaking his head.

"if he cannot decide if he wants you, then he should leave you alone," he said softly, smiling under his mask with a crinkle of his eyes, "that way someone who knows that they want you can move in!"

that was one thing you liked about könig, he was actually open to communicate his thoughts and feelings with you. he told you were pretty, how he liked your laugh, how much he enjoyed your company and was excited to see you again when you both had time.

simon was closed off. he was quiet, mostly listening rather than talking. but he listened well. you remember mentioning that you broke your lamp and had bought a new one but couldn't figure out how to set it up. a week later, after a nice evening spent in bed together, you woke up to find him sitting on your living room floor putting together that lamp for you.

even though könig was...lovely. there was something about simon that was so intoxicating that you couldn't seem to let it go. but also the sex with simon was....spectacular. you never had a man so eager to make you cum until you were incoherent — never had a man who could.

and könig was....traditional. slow. he wanted to date for a long time before jumping into bed. he wanted to properly court you and go through a whole process. which you respected but...you were impatient. greedy.

it wasn't like könig was against you seeing simon. he had told you that you were free to do what you wished, but unless you made it official with the other man he was not going to back down from trying to court you.

so when simon called on you again a couple nights later, you answered.

he was glaring when he opened the door for you, motioning for you to enter before shutting and locking the door.

"why didn't you answer?" he grilled. clearly you ignoring his call when you were with könig annoyed him more than you thought.

you raised an eyebrow before slowly answering, "i was on a date, simon."

that seemed to make him freeze where he stood, eyes narrowing even more into a glare.

"a date?" he spat, "with who? you don't need to go on any dates, you're with me."

that made you roll your eyes so hard it nearly gave you a headache, "a nice guy named könig. simon, i'm not even sure you like me beyond wanting sex. i want a boyfriend." you huffed, "and clearly you don't want that!"

"oh yeah? then why are you here instead of with your boyfriend?" he hissed the last word in disgust.

"we're not official. he hasn't asked but we've been...seeing each other." you decided simply.

at that, simon jerked his mask over his mouth to kiss you in that heated way that made your legs tremble, "does he fuck you as good as i do? hm?"

that got your attention, a sly smile coming to your lips as he worked you out of your clothes.

he was jealous. this revelation was exhilarating to you. simon, the guy who acted like he couldn't care less about you, was actually jealous that you were seeing another guy!

the sex that night was as phenomenal as usual and more. he spent a good half of it with his head between your thighs, pinning you down with strength alone as he ate you to orgasm after orgasm until your cum was a sticky, stringy mess on his lips and chin.

then he worked you to two more orgasms on his cock, the last one he hadn't even needed to touch your clit before you were creaming around him with a sweet little squeal.

simon had a point to prove. you were his and he was not going to lose you to some asshole. deep down, he knew he didn't deserve you and that he should let the better man have you but he just couldn't. he needed you. he wanted you. he was selfish and greedy.

simon disappeared after that. but for once had actually communicated what was going on — deployment, he said. didn't know how long he would be gone. he had actually gave you a goodbye kiss that left you spinning.

the next time you saw simon, you were on a date with könig. it was a quaint little bar that könig said he liked. so there you were, sitting across from him at a booth, nursing a drink and softly talking with one another.

you didn't even know simon was back. he hadn't said anything. when he walked into the bar, his eyes scanned the place like they always did before landing on you.

his gaze lit up as he took a step towards you but quickly halted when he saw you were sitting across from another man. but that didn't stop him for long.

you cursed under your breath, catching könig's attention before simon was right there at the end of the table, glaring at könig.

"can we help you...?" könig asked softly, clearly a little nervous.

"hi...simon..." you sighed softly. könig straightened up in his seat at that.

"official yet?" he asked you, ignoring your greeting.

you gritted your teeth, casting a glance towards könig who looked confused.

"no." you answered simply.

with that simon, yanked a chair from a nearby table and sat right at the end of your table. you concealed a groan of despair.

simons glare fixed upon könig, a challenge clear in his stare alone. he reached forward and grabbed your drink from your hand despite your protest, lifting his mask enough to take a sip, the cocky smirk visible briefly on his lips.

könig quickly understood what was going on and his own eyes narrowed into a glare. you could practically see the sparks going off between them and buried your face in your hands.

it was going to be....a painfully long night, you feared.

[sleepiexx]

Something He’d Overheard

James Potter x fem!Reader

Note: I’ve been in the marauders fandom for over 7 years now, I think it’s high time I write a fic for it. Part of my efforts to branch out into writing for more fandoms than COD.

Summary: James finds himself head over heels when he sees you defending a first year student.

Warnings: some curse words here and there, bullying mention, overall rlly soft

Word Count: 1151

After countless fictional characters and random strangers on the street with pretty faces catching his burning ire, anyone who knew James Potter knew good and well that he was a lover. He had long believed in love at first sight, merely seeing someone eye-catching often sparked thoughts of budding romance, fantasies of how they would love and what their relationship would look like amongst other things. Soulmates and fate were a big concept to him too, for example his favorite book character, a headstrong witch who was kind and brilliant, well James had a hunch that in another life they were lovers.

He’d fallen in love just about a million times, and yet something about you was different.

You had caught James’ eye one day as he made the trek to the library to collect his good friend Remus for their group’s usual night’s worth of mischief. Your beautiful eyebrows were pinched together in anger, a sneer on your pretty lips, your voice was loud and firm as you scolded one of the usual culprits (a death eater in the making) for bullying a defenseless first year student.

Your hand clutched your wand intently as you damn near hissed the words, “you wanna try picking on someone who can actually fight back?”

They let out a scoff and left the scene, leaving you, the first year, and unbeknownst to you, James.

The switch between standoffishness and caring came like whiplash. Your tensed frame relaxed as you knelt down in front of the first year (those eleven year olds seemed to be growing shorter and shorter every year). Your dominant hand reached out and gently wiped away the younger child’s tears.

“Everything he said is bullshit,” you began, “he’s angry at the world, looking for someplace to fit in, and unfortunately it’s really easy to fall into the wrong crowd. You haven’t, and he’s jealous of that.”

The kid sniffled, pout still indented firmly on their little lips, “who would be jealous of me?”

You shook your head in disbelief, “plenty of people! You have a gift that a large part of the world’s population doesn’t possess, that’s something to be proud of no matter what other witches and wizards try to tell you. Heck, I’m even jealous of you.”

As you spoke a smile crept its way on the first year’s face, “you are?” They asked.

“Yeah, I am!” You nodded, “you’ve got six and a half more years left at Hogwarts to have fun and run about the castle, I only have another year and a half.”

“This place is pretty cool,” they muttered.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your face lit up and you stood to your feet, offering the small child your hand so you could walk them back to their common room. You’d never seen the awe-stricken onlooker, but the scene was now burned into James’ mind.

It followed him to the library, where he convinced Remus to follow him to their other friends, a long walk that Remus spent listening to James drone on and on about you. It followed him to his dorm that night, and every other night for weeks leaving the marauders to know every single detail about you. And it most especially followed him to each of the classes you had together where James would stare at you and admire your appearance while daydreaming about you.

It was the third time that week that the scene had followed him to the lunch table when Sirius slammed his palms on the table, “I’m putting an end to this nonsense right now. You either talk to her, Prongs, or I will. And trust me, you won’t like how in depth I will go about those daydreams you’ve been having where-“

Sirius couldn’t even finish his sentence with how fast James jumped in, “alright, alright! I have potions with her next, I’ll talk to her, I swear.”

The statement leaves the marauders satiated in conversation as they finish up their lunch and head to their classes.

In potions, James nearly decides to abandon ship, facing a new anxiety he’d never experienced before when dealing with a girl. He decides that maybe it would be best to keep to himself, too afraid to stumble on his words and make a fool of himself in front of such a pretty girl. All this is until Professor Slughorn proclaims that today’s assignment requires a partner. If there ever was a time to shoot his shot, it’s now.

He takes deep breaths, adjusting his posture and forcing his every step to radiate confidence before he reaches you, “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to be my partner?”

You smile, “I’d love to! Fair warning, though, I’m not the best at potions.”

James bursts out into a giddy grin, “I’m willing to pick up the slack.”

“Unfortunately, I bet I’ll make you eat your words,” nonetheless you collect the ingredients as James collects the supplies.

When everything is together, James reads off the instructions. You follow them with great care, not wanting to make a fool of yourself in front of your new, devilishly handsome potions partner.

You make to slice open one of the ingredients, as the instructions called for, but your knife slips, sending the damned thing hurdling straight towards your face. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for an impact that never comes, reopening them only to be met with the sight of the back of James’ hand.

“Holy shit,” you curse, “did you just catch that?”

James nods, almost surprised at himself.

You shake your head in disbelief, “if you weren’t such a good chaser, I’d suggest you take up seeking.”

Your statement renews James’ confidence, so you’d noticed him too?

“Can I show you how to cut it?” He asks, a smile on his face.

You nod, watching his hands intently, confused when he disappears behind you. You quickly piece together what’s happening when he grabs your hands with his own, handing you the knife and positioning you so that you slice through the ingredient like it’s nothing.

“Great job!” James praises, even though it was him that had done all the work.

You still take the compliment, grinning from ear to ear as he tosses the final ingredient into the potion, creating the rich purple color you were striving for, “we make a really good team, Potter.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “well what do you say we see if we make as good of a couple?” You feel blood rush to your cheeks, James further clarifies “Hogsmeade this weekend? Just you and me?”

And you nod eagerly, “I would love that.”

If Sirius thought James asking you out would be the solution to him raving on and on about you all hours of the day, he was sorely mistaken and he was about to figure that out as soon as James stepped into the common room.

[ceilidho]

prompt: IKEA soap/reader fic. PART 4. (read 1, 2, 3) tags: dubcon; nsfw

-

You only realize after the fact that you may have miscalculated in thinking that this could be a one-time thing between the two of you. 

After listening to Johnny bitch and moan during the Christmas party about having to take time off work to spend the holidays with his very religious family, you delude yourself into thinking you’ll finally be able to have some peace and quiet around the store. Not literally, of course. Working during the holidays is always a recipe for exhaustion—parents coming in at the last minute to demand toys that have long since sold out, fights breaking out in every other aisle as customers fight for the last palatable set of Christmas ornaments and boxed fruit cake. 

You’re not delusional enough to think that work will be a piece of cake, but you are selfishly a little happy that you’ll finally get some time to breathe without Johnny hovering over your shoulder at all hours of your shift. Seasonal shoppers are as exhausting as always, but you get to sit alone in the breakroom with a cup of coffee in the morning right before your shift without someone staring at you or breathing into your personal bubble. 

Johnny spends his entire time off blowing up your phone, sending you pictures of his childhood home, calling you during your breaks, and sending you weird videos that seem to have been filmed entirely in the dark where you can’t see or hear anything apart from some weird squeaks and one loud grunt at the very end of the video that sounds kind of like—you close the video.

You spend the first few days of January dreading his return. The day of is like a shock to your nervous system, the whole morning spent pouring coffee with a trembling hand. 

“Hiya gorgeous,” he purrs when you clock in for your shift. You’re somewhat used to Johnny sneaking up behind you, so you don’t flinch this time when you feel the length of his body press up against you at the time clock. 

“Johnny, it’s seven in the morning,” you mutter out through pursed lips, shoulders stiff when he puts his hands on them and digs his thumbs into the tender points of your back. You bite back a moan.

“Missed ye, kitten. Cannae believe I went a whole week without hearing you purr.”

He could’ve phrased that a thousand other ways, but he just had to choose the one that would make you wince. He digs his thumbs in again, trying to push the moan out of you, but you tamp it down. You hold back a shudder when he plants his nose onto the crown of your head and inhales, drawing your scent into his lungs. 

“Where’ye assigned ta today? Jeff owes me a favour—gonna ask him if I can spend the day with ye so we can catch up.” 

You go still when he drops a firm kiss to the side of your head. “I’m…not sure. I haven’t checked the schedule yet.” It’s a half-lie. You may not have checked the schedule yet, but you know from having briefly chatted with your manager this morning in the parking lot where you’ll be spending most of your day.

Still, it means that you get to shake off Johnny for a bit. “Lemme go check for ye, okay, hen? Stay here, a’right?”

You watch him jog off down the hall to the breakroom before finally leaving. It’ll be better for you if you’re gone before he comes back. 

The first hour of your day is spent on softlines until Priya in jewellery randomly comes down with a chill and gets sent home early, forcing you to cover her section. Usually that wouldn’t be such a bad deal—it means you get to spend your shift helping people try on bracelets and rings, restocking the earring display, and leaning against the counter for hours at a time. It’s not a particularly busy station.  

While you're assigned to the jewellery section though, Johnny pops out of nowhere as you're helping a customer contemplating a birthday ring for his fiancé. With the kind of confidence that you’ve come to expect from Johnny, he uses your hand to model some of the rings, but this time it feels oddly weirdly intense. When he slides the first ring onto your finger, you can feel the way he holds his breath, even shudders a bit. He presses himself right up against you behind the display counter, hardness pressing against your hip. 

It doesn’t take long for your customer to leave. Johnny’s demeanour is off-putting, concerning even. You can’t fault the guy for being rightfully repulsed by the way Johnny crowds up against you like you’re alone together. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss through your teeth.

“Cannae help it, hen. I ken ye wanna wait, but it jus’ makes me a bit emotional seein’ my girl wearing a ring I put on.”

He blinks down at you with big, blue eyes, the picture of innocence. You should’ve anticipated there being a danger in letting Johnny stew over that on his own. Of course he’d come to his own conclusions, even one as deranged as thinking of your hook up as a step towards dating. You can’t help but side eye him. 

“We—we’re not a couple, Johnny.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Ye just let anybody eat you out in the supply closet then? S’that right?” It’s said rhetorically, like he knows the answer already. You flinch at the slight though.

“That was—” you cut yourself off to take a breath, an ache growing behind your forehead, “—that was a…it was a one-time thing. You can’t just act like we’re dating.”

His lips turn down in a pout, displeasure rippling across his face. You brace yourself for the inevitable argument, for shit to hit the fan, because obviously that’s what’s brewing under the surface. You brace yourself for worse too because when you happen to glance around, you realize how few people are actually milling around in the area. 

Then, instead of losing his temper, Johnny’s eyes grow smoky, heavy-lidded, and the pout lifts into a lazy, playful grin. “A’right, kitty, no’ dating then. That’s fine wi’ me.”

This time it’s you that frowns, staring up at him dubiously. “…Really?” It feels too sudden, quicksilver. Johnny’s fiery by nature, short tempered on his best days and more likely to grit his teeth and bear the displeasure of not getting his way than happily giving into it. His sudden smile is at odds with the version of him that exists in your mind, furious at you for denying him. 

Maybe you’ve got him all wrong. 

The gleam in his eye betrays nothing, however. “I swear.” He leans closer to you then, fingers fiddling with the name tag pinned over your chest on your work vest, straightening it. “Doesnae mean we have ta give the rest up though. Ye liked what we did in the closet, right, hen?”

It feels like he’s sucked the air out of the room, as big as it is. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that.”

“Och, c’mon, kitty,” Johnny breathes, hunching just a little over and into your space, making the moment feel private, just the two of you. “Had to talk about it eventually. Did ye just expect that everything would go back to normal after ye let me eat ye out? Hey—” he catches you when you try to make a move to step away from him, wrapping a big hand around your wrist and tugging you closer to him, “—listen, kitty—it doesnae have to be anything serious, right? That’s what’s making ye all jumpy and nervous? I’ll lick your pussy, free of charge. Dinnae need any labels. How’s that sound, kitty? Dick on demand?”

It should repulse you. The way he speaks to you is crass, crude. His voice is hushed, haggard, fur stretched taut over stone—and yet, your hands tremble, just a little. It tempts you. Purring Scottish burr, lapis lazuli eyes, bristle cheeks that you still remember scraping up your inner thighs. He’s a package you can’t imagine sending back.

“You won’t get…you promise not to get weird about it?” you ask.

His smile curls up, impish. “Cross my heart, kitten.”

Maybe you’re delusional enough to think that you can have your cake and eat it too. There’s a voice in your head telling you to face the facts, but you disregard it as if you haven’t been working with Johnny for months. As if you aren’t aware of his penchant for saying or doing anything to get his way. It’s maybe naive of you. 

All you know is that he smothers a laugh when you tell him you’ll think about it. Knows he’s got you right where he wants.

You don’t fight when he drags you into the single-stall bathroom towards the end of your shift, letting him position you in front of the mirror before sinking to his knees behind you. Forces you to watch the way you come apart on his tongue, not giving you his fingers until you beg him to, the whispered plea a hairsbreadth away from becoming a scream. 

“Oh, did she miss me?” Johnny breathes, a happy laugh in his voice when he runs the broad side of his tongue over your entrance from the back. “Fuck, look at that. Winked at me ‘n everythin’. Hi darling, missed ye too.”

You don’t think you’ll ever be the same after hearing that come out of his mouth. You go hot all over again when you clench involuntarily, equal parts turned on and horrified. He sniggers before trying to cram his whole tongue up into you. 

There’s a moment of panic when Johnny draws up behind you after making you come and you hear him undo his pants. There’s nowhere for you to go with your pants still looped around your ankles, underwear pulled all the way down as well. You hear yourself hiss a startled Johnny when he slots a fat cock between your thighs, staring dumbly at the reflection of him behind you. At your back, he seems massive, lean and trim but towering over you, broad. 

He shushes you. “Dinnae be selfish, hen—gotta get mine too. Jus’ gonna fuck your thighs, dinnae fret.”

You squeak when he pushes your thighs together forcefully, dragging his cock over your folds to wet himself. Watching Johnny fuck is nothing like staring down at him when he eats you out. He pants harsh and ragged into the side of your head, nips at your ear. The glint in his eyes goes animalistic, vacant. Human desire recedes, subsumed into the animal part of his brain with the single-minded need to fuck. 

The only thing keeping him from driving up into you, accidentally or not, is the way you keep your thighs pressed together. A warm, tight channel for him to push his cock into. Thick fingers dig into your waist, sure to leave bruises. You wince when lean hips pound against your backside, growing frantic as need overtakes him. You flirt at the edge of panic, certain that at any second, he’ll pull your thighs apart and nudge the head of his cock up into you. 

“Jus’ like that, fuck,” he grunts. “Be a good little fuckin’ girl and jus’ let me—”

His tongue lolls out on a particularly rough thrust, hands groping over your belly and up to your chest, slipping his hand under your shirt and bra to pinch your nipple. He twists it mean, nasty, until you have no choice but to grunt through grit teeth, eyes watering. You feel like a doll meant for his pleasure, no choice but to grip the sides of the sink and let Johnny use you until he comes. 

“Fuck,” Johnny groans, eyes going half-lidded. “Love makin’ this pussy come. Love gettin’ her all messy and wet. Lettin’ me between your thighs even when I make ye nervous—fuck, ‘m gonna come, ‘m gonna—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

White come stripes the sink in front of you, thick and viscous. Paints the inside of your thighs as well when he drags his hips back until just the head of his cock sits nestled up against your sex. Hyperconscious of where it tags your inner lips, that there’s no barrier between the two of you, just come and skin. 

The full body shake shocks you, a ripple from your heels to the top of your head. 

His free hand grasps you by the hair when you try to slip away. “Ye gonna clean up your mess, baby?”

You glance back up at his reflection in the mirror, trying to suss him out. Shark-like eyes meet yours. Something you’ve seen in glances before finally staring back at you with full force. You reach for the paper towel dispenser with a shaking hand. 

“Nah,” Johnny scolds, giving you a shake. “With your mouth.”

The command hangs in the air, no joke or laugh to undercut it. His eyes read serious to you, still dark. No leniency present in the blue. 

You stare down at his come on the sink, slack-jawed. “You don’t seriously mean—”

“Jus’ kidding, silly,” he chuckles, giving a teasing bite to your earlobe and tugging. The tension in the air disperses. “Got ye, huh?” 

You force a laugh. “Yeah…got me.”

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Prologue

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The cupcake is smashed. Pink icing and gaudy star-shaped sprinkles coat the interior of the box, and the pastry itself has devolved into crumbs. You just stare at it. It had cost you seventeen dollars. It was expensive, yeah. But you’d spent the last three months walking past it every morning and afternoon in the bougie cafe’s windows. You’d waited. You’d wanted.

And it was destroyed. Completely. The perfect swirl of the buttercream was no more. The single, delicate flower made of frosting had lost half it’s petals. You weren’t sure how you could eat it. The wrapping had been warped, but maybe a tea spoon would work?

You let your head fall into your hands, a sob wracking your shoulders. And then less than a second later you swallow down the feeling, and stride over to your shitty apartment’s tiny kitchen. You grab a lighter, a plastic wine glass and the bottle of white wine Molly had given you earlier today. You hadn’t told her what happened yet, but she could tell something had. She’d gave you the wine, a hug, and the promise to always be by your side.

Despite today’s circumstances, despite this week’s circumstances, despite this decade’s circumstances, you were going to have a good birthday getting black-out drunk.

You weren’t going to let yourself sink into one of your funks. Even if it was the worst day of the year by far. Even if it was the second worst birthday of your life.

You just don’t. It’s not allowed.

Your phone rings. Sliding it out of your pocket, you stare blankly at the name on the screen. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Malcom. One of George’s friends. You reject the call, block the number, and slide your phone back in your pocket. See? Dealing with things like an adult. Not throwing a temper tantrum, not crying, not… well, destroying your life in an epic meltdown. You’d had a few of those. Still, despite your obvious erraticness, you hadn’t been fired this year. Yay!

You told yourself you were getting better, even as the universe seemingly conspired against your happiness. You were kind of convinced it was.

Turning, you play with the cap on the wine, walking over to your old ratty couch and falling into it. The beast groans at the contact, but you pay it no mind. The thing was probably older than you, and you were celebrating your twenty-first today.

You were an orphan in Gotham, it was not your first time drinking. Molly had dragged you to so many awful parties over the years. But this wine was probably the fanciest you’d ever been given. Scratch that, definitely was. You pour yourself a glass, stick the birthday candle half-hazardly into the largest chunk of cupcake, and grab the remote.

The only true comfort you can get on this day. A woman, a reporter. She speaks, but you can’t really hear what she’s saying. You chug down a glass of the wine, apologising in your head to Molly, and then pour yourself another.

It takes a few minutes, but your muscles relax, and her words tune into focus.

“Today’s memorial, is once again sponsored by the Wayne foundation.”

Yeah, because they’re the only charity organisation in the city. The family of billionaires were debatably the only good ones in existance. Debtable because you weren’t sure if they were good enough themselves. As an orphan who’d known the cruelty of the system yourself, you were a mix of bitter and grateful towards them. Sure, they’d been the only thing that kept you out of true poverty. You were still an awful bitch about it.

You always had been the jealous type. The other kids who got better backpacks or toys or whatever had you seething with fury. The multitude of orphans Bruce Wayne risen out of poverty were not safe from your envy. It didn’t matter if you were… Well, a little bit, just a teeny-tiny-tiddly-little bit… obsessed. Obsessed with them. Kind of manic about it, actually.

You were working on it. Today was a bad day, and you were a little too raw. So, like every little dumb animal on the planet, you went straight to your creature comforts. You pretended you were a roman eating and drinking on their chaise lounge, watching their magnificent entertainment.

Delusional. Your sofa was falling apart at the seems, your cupcake was debris and your entertainment was a memorial service. Wine was good, though.

Gotta focus on the good parts.

You watch the TV screen, the reporter’s voice drifting in and out of focus. There was a family photo of the Waynes and their family friends, all in perfect suits and dresses and pearls and fancy watches. You’d bet that those little accessories were worth more than a year of your rent.

And you lived in fucking Gotham, both the most expensive city to live in, and the worst at the same time. A miracle, truly.

Anyway, they were all stunningly beautiful, even some of the guys. God knows how much the internet went on about Richard Grayson’s long eyelashes. You’d always been enamored with Dick’s good looks. Even Damian Wayne who had only turned nineteen a few months ago and was three years younger than you was already being fawned over by the tabloids.

Gotham’s newest young rich bachelor. Bitterly envious, that was you. You didn’t like that emotion, though, so you turned your attention to others. Namely, delusion.

You let yourself get swept up in daydreams. Of having a rich family, of one so close knit as the Wayne’s. Of having a handsome, loving, kind partner. You don’t let yourself dream about your real family, of a George that was faithful.

You just don’t.

Maybe someone like Tim Drake. Loyal, everyone who knew him described him as loyal. His romances with Bernard Dowd and Stephanie Brown were famous. There were hundreds of papparazzi photos of him with big bundles of roses and a sweet look on his face. You thought someone like Tim Drake would probably be like one of the heroes in your romance novels. Something silly like a meet cute in an airport, or maybe a bookstore or a cafe. He was pretty famous in Gotham’s niche hipster coffee scene, right?

Yeah, you could see it now. Some dumb but cute scene where you get confused and accidentally take his order. You get the same drink, and bond over your shared love of caramel syrup. Like he didn’t live on the opposite side of the city from you, and you probably couldn’t afford whatever fancy shit he drunk. Italian coffee beans versus… well, you didn’t actually know what you bought. You knew it didn’t taste very good, but it was dirt cheap.

What were you doing? Ah, yes, silly daydreams about romance.

But even as you think of Tim, Dick Grayson was so pretty, and he’d had his fair share of partners too. Someone with such an angelic face had to have a personality to match, and the media agreed. Of course you didn’t really know what he was like, this was all just fantasy. Other than numerous tabloid interviews and television, which suggested he had a kind heart and a love for bad jokes you truly knew nothing about the guy. Still, he’d be the golden retriever trope, you think. Or the knight in shining armor, saving his heroine from one of the many disaster’s plaguing Gotham and confessing his love in one big final act. His meet cute would be the airplane one. The blue of his eyes, it makes you think of the sky. You’d take his seat, but he’d be super sweet about it. Like he didn’t have a private jet, and would never be caught on economy.

You think Damian Wayne could play a good romance lead as well. From what you’d seen, he seemed to have a terrible personality, which was perfect for any modern romance. A classic enemies to lovers, with some bickering. Maybe he’d have secretly loved her the entire time, and maybe there’d be a good grovel at the end. So, appreciating his character, he’d have to have a meet ugly. Probably get stuck in an elevator with him or something, and he’d get to display his keen intellect and argumentative nature.

You swirl your wine, nodding your head. Brilliant ideas today, you should talk to Molly more. She’d definitely appreciate your wisdom. She wanted to be a screen writer one day, and all this would be very helpful. She was going to college for it. You couldn’t afford college.

Maybe you were drunk. Maybe you were a genius. It was hard to tell, so you take another sip. That’ll help you figure things out.

“As always, the Wayne families’ faces are morose as they celebrate the late Jason Todd.”

And as always, you felt an odd connection with the dead man. Your lives had both technically ended the same day, in the same grand calamity. Sure, you were still technically alive. Kicking about. But everyone you loved dying in one fell swoop, right in front of your eyes? You felt more like a ghost these days.

Weren’t you supposed to be fighting those sorts of thoughts off? Whatever, it was too much effort anyway.

Your slight obsession with the Wayne family had been initially started by Jason Todd. You hadn’t been thinking about him as much recently with George in your life, but he swung right back into place as soon as George left your life. Like a magnet, or more likely, a compulsion.

But now you were brought right back to the morning after. Seeing the entire city grieving the day after you’d lost your family, your first thought had been ‘Good, I’m not the only one,’ and then you’d stopped being an idiot and realised the city was mourning Jason Todd, heir to the Wayne name. Sure, there’d been hundreds of others who’d died, but that was Gotham. Your family had gotten a plaque filled with tens of other forgotten names, Jason had gotten framed photos hung around the city.

Today, his photo was once again surrounded by thousands of bouquets. Peonies, roses, daffodils, lillies, a rainbow of petals that almost covered his memorial stone. It reminded you of your sad-ass cupcake. When the camera zoomed out, you could see your smaller set of poseys against one of the thirty towering monuments, the tiny names crammed into the rock. Your families name was on line fifty-two, near the bottom. You could only afford the flowers once a year, but you visited once a week at least.

There were other flowers. Other offerings. Other candles. Jason’s dwarfed them all.

You sometimes couldn’t tell if you hated the dead man or were hopelessly in love with him. Obviously it didn’t matter. Even when he was alive he was out of both your league and your tax bracket.

Still, you were absolutely certain of it, Jason Todd would beat up George Lancaster. So fucking bad. To a bloody pulp. He’d be eager to do it, as well. You could hum and haw about how you thought violence was bad but he’d see right to the core of you.

The part of you that wanted George Lancaster to suffer. And he’d do it with a kiss and a promise that he’d make it slow. He’d save you from all your monsters, and he’d do it eagerly. And that was the fantasy of it all, wasn’t it?

You lift your glass, in celebration of your dead parasocial imaginary boyfriend. You hoped he wouldn’t be jealous of your new living parasocial imaginary boyfriends. Hiccuping out a laugh, you swallow down another gulp.

And even then, of course you wanted Bruce Wayne as a father. As someone who has seen the worst of the world, and would protect you from it. As someone who would wipe away the tears, who would save you from your own self. And you wanted Cassandra as a sister, someone to groan over guys with and steal clothes off. You wanted the close relationships they shared with Barbara Gordon and Stephanie Brown, with Duke who’d only recently come into their fold. You even wanted their dog you’d seen in photos, the cat that Damian posted on his instagram, the fucking cow they kept for god knows reason inside the estate. You wanted everything, every part of their lives. You were a jealous person, but more than that, you were a greedy person.

You glance at the clock.

11:57.

You shakily open the candle packet, picking a green one out. That had been Sam’s last favourite colour, but he switched them so often it was hard to remember. You stab it into the pink frosting. Julie always chose pink for her cake. Chasey loved flowers, particularly poseys. The flowers had looked like posesys before they’d been crushed.

You light the candle. It’s tiny flame flickers in the dark room, the warm light overpowered by the cool from the television. You peek back over to the clock.

11:58.

And Mum always made her wish at midnight, because she believed that was when it was most likely to come true.

What would you wish for? You never did, because you never knew what you wanted to wish for. Everything you wanted, everything you could’ve wanted, was gone. It couldn’t come back, it was impossible.

11:59.

You look at the TV, at the blinding forms of the Wayne family. Of their graveyard, with the manor in the background. It’s as impossible as everything else. But that’s what they represent for you, isn’t it?

Something hopeful. Something impossible.

You wanted impossible.

12:00.

You lean over the messy cupcake, and blow the candle out. It disappears in one blow, and you sink back into the couch. You take a few crumbs from the cupcake and sneak them past your lips. In your drunkenness, you probably get more on the couch than in your mouth.

You let your eyes flutter shut, and because only you can, you give yourself the comfort of lies. You imagine loving embraces, whispered platitudes. You imagine that today was a good day, that you’d find yourself tomorrow happy. That you wouldn’t wake up with a hangover, that you wouldn’t have a shitty job, an evil ex, and mountains of debt.

That you’d have people who loved you, who could ease the pain.

And you don’t even care who they are.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[atlabeth]

too sweet

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: a night out makes hotch realize a few too many things.

a/n: me??? writing for criminal minds again out of nowhere??? what is going on. and i do not have an answer i was just in a hotch mood bc he's fine asf and i finally have the confidence to write for him here we are lol. hope u enjoy this short lil thing

wc: 2.4k

warning(s): alcohol consumption, a sexual joke or two, written in one go so might be a mess! aaron is all in his head but this is basically all fluff

Hotch can’t focus. 

Mostly because he can’t stop glancing over at you. Normally it’s not a problem—he’d lost count of how many times he’d distracted himself from mounds of paperwork by meeting your eyes through his office window, often accompanied by a smile that made even his heart beat a little faster—and especially now, it shouldn’t be a problem. 

You and Derek have had some kind of bet going on during the past few nights out—you didn’t believe he was as charming and suave as he claimed, and Morgan was all too happy to prove you wrong.

You bet that he couldn’t get at least five numbers every night, and come last Thursday, Morgan took the win at the end of the evening with a smile on his face. As punishment, the first round of their next night out was on you. 

And that’s nice, sure. Hotch is always thankful that his team can still joke around and have fun with each other despite everything they have to deal with each day. He hopes they keep the light in their eyes as long as possible, especially the younger ones. He’s fine with being the stick in the mud, the one who never smiles, the iron willed chief that scares local uniforms.

Hotch is not so fine with the way he feels right now. 

It’s a busy night at the bar, which is understandable. Hotch is sure half the precinct is out alongside them, celebrating the BAU finally solving the case that had torn them to shreds over the past week. You, Reid, and Garcia put the threads together an hour into scouring through evidence, and the unsub was cuffed before noon. 

Certainly something to celebrate—there’s a reason the whole team agreed to go out tonight and leave tomorrow. Even Rossi decided to join when he learned you would be buying, but he’s already abandoned them in favor of catching up with some old friends. Hotch even thinks they might have another round in their future because of their solve, courtesy of the local chief. They had a long night ahead of them. 

But you haven’t gotten the drinks yet, and Hotch wonders how long it’ll take even after you do. Because some officer is trying to talk you up, and you’re smiling and laughing along and giving him every bit of your attention. 

Hotch recognized him the moment he set eyes upon him, even in plain clothes. He’s some joke of an officer from the station, and he’s been trying to get your number—or even just get your attention—throughout their whole visit. Always sidling up to you during debriefs, specifically giving you any information or evidence he finds—Hotch has overheard him asking for your number more than once. 

Hotch has been so focused on the case he’s not even sure if you’ve rejected him or not, and the mere thought is enough to annoy him. If he wasn’t equally as sure of your ability to defend yourself and afraid of overstepping with you, he would have stepped in. 

But it makes sense. The officer is young and handsome, you’re young and pretty—not to mention you have a way of lighting up any room you step into. Hotch spent the whole first month of your employment wondering why you would want to do a job like this. He’s spent the rest of it thankful that you did. 

You’re sharp as a whip, naturally, but you’ve also done wonders for the team atmosphere. It’s hard to feel down with a smile like yours beaming his way. The job weighs you down like it does everyone, but you still manage to lift everyone’s spirits on the jet ride back before they jump into the next case. It’s impressive. 

It’s also trouble. You’ve been part of the BAU for almost two years now, and Hotch has spent just as much time tearing his eyes away from you as he has working. It’s wrong, and it’s wholly inappropriate in terms of your working relationship—he’s your boss, for god’s sake. 

But sometimes, Hotch will be beating himself up over one thing or another on a case, and you’ll plant yourself in his vicinity and refuse to leave until you’ve helped him work through it. If you ever tire of the FBI, he thinks you have a second calling as an elementary school teacher. 

Sometimes the hotel they’re staying at will have truly shitty coffee, worse than they’re used to at the BAU, and you’ll already be in the lobby with a tray full of the team’s orders. Hotch never recalls telling you his order—you just figured it out, and you remembered it. 

Sometimes his gaze will drift your way, and he’ll find you already staring at him. You look away just as quickly as he does, and it makes him wonder. 

Hotch has made a living off of studying the behavior of others. More often than not, he finds himself profiling his co-workers just out of instinct. His job is to know what others are thinking. 

But god. When it comes to you, Hotch doesn’t think he’s ever felt more unsure in his life. Especially when you look at him the same way he wants to for weeks, then act nothing but proper another day; when you fall asleep against his shoulder on the jet one night and entertain some desk jockey another night. 

It makes him feel like a highschooler again, trying to figure out if Haley really liked him or if she was just playing around, and it’s more embarrassing than it should be. Especially when he’s still dealing with the lingering emotions from the divorce. 

“Hotch.” JJ’s voice is enough to break him out of his trance, and he blinks as he turns to her. At least someone paid him the mercy to dispel his thoughts, even if only for a temporary time. 

“What?” 

“Did you hear a single word I said?” she asks, a slight smile curving on her lips. 

“Of course,” he responds. “The chief’s over there talking with the commissioner. He’s the same guy who made your life difficult the last time we were in Milwaukee.” 

JJ’s eyebrows shoot up, and she nods. “I didn’t think you were listening.” 

“I think he just got lucky,” Morgan cuts in, his gaze darting over to you momentarily. “I think you were too focused on our drinks.” 

Reid frowns. “I don’t think he was focused on the drinks. He’s—” 

“Just making sure they’re still coming,” Hotch interrupts, and he straightens his tie. Today really has been a long one—usually, he’s better at covering these things up. “And I wasn’t lucky. I was listening.” 

“Trust me,” Morgan says with a laugh, “I’m watchin’ her until I’ve got a glass in my hand. She’s not getting out of this after the way she bragged this whole month.” 

“The stupidest thing to make a bet on,” Prentiss remarks, “especially with you.” 

“She said she just wanted to prove you wrong,” Reid contributes. “She thinks you’re too cocky.” 

Morgan grins. “It’s not cocky if you can back it up.” 

Hotch’s attention goes back to you, and you’ve finally gotten their drinks. You’re loading them onto a tray like you’re the bartender yourself, and his brows crease. Maybe he should have gone up with you. 

“Do you think she needs help?” he asks. How obvious is too obvious? Why does it feel like his brain only works at half power whenever it comes to you? 

“She’ll be fine,” Prentiss says. “And if she needs it, that guy talking her up can help.” 

“Jason Rodriguez,” Reid remarks. “He hung around her the whole time we were trying to pinpoint a location, and he wasn’t any help, which makes sense because he's practically desk-bound at the precinct. I’m surprised she got any work done.” 

JJ chuckles. “I’m surprised he hasn’t given up yet. He’s been following her around all week, like some lost puppy.” 

Morgan shrugs. “I dunno. She seems pretty into him.” 

“I don’t think ex-frat boys are her type,” Prentiss says wryly. Hotch doesn’t think so either, but he doesn’t say anything. Contributing to this kind of conversation is certainly too obvious.  

“I doubt we’ll be back here for a while. She might as well.” Morgan smiled. “She probably needs a win after such an embarrassing loss.” 

Thankfully, before Hotch has to keep pretending not to care about this topic, you walk over carrying a tray of cocktails—and you’re alone. The subject of their previous conversation seems lost in the crowd, and he feels a dangerous amount of relief. 

“Are you all talking about me?” you drawl. 

“You know we are, sweetheart. Thought you were never gonna get here.” Morgan sits up, smiling at you. “What’d my win get us?” 

“Long Island Iced Teas,” you muse as you set the tray down. “Enjoy it, because I’m gonna be working some overtime to make up for all these.” 

Morgan grins as he takes his drink. “You should’ve never doubted my skills.” 

“I’m surprised you didn’t need any help,” Prentiss says. “You’ve done this before, huh?” 

“Bartended my way through college.” You slide into the booth next to Hotch, just a bit too close for a bit too long, and he hopes that no one can see his chest still for a moment. It’s impressive that he still hasn’t figured out how to lessen the effect you have on him. “I’ve probably got better hands than you, Morgan.” 

“Do we need to make another bet?” he asks. “Because I’d love to clean out your wallet.” 

“Maybe wait another month before you prey on any more poor, defenseless agents,” you croon, and Morgan laughs. 

He pivots the conversation away from you when you pick up your drink and take a sip, and you look at Hotch. Whenever your gaze is on him, you make him feel like he’s the only person in the room. He’s sure you never look at anyone else that way, but Hotch wonders how much of that is his mind trying to justify his imagination. 

“I’m surprised you agreed with this,” you say, mercifully interrupting his thoughts. “I thought you’d want us to go back tonight.” 

“You all earned a night out after the work you did,” Hotch says. He thinks about taking a drink, but he decides against it, at least for now. He can barely trust his sober mind. 

“You’ve earned it too,” you say. “We wouldn’t be anywhere without you, Hotch. You keep us all together.” 

He shakes his head. “I don’t think I ever would’ve connected the dots like you and Reid can with Garcia. I hate unsubs with secret codes.” 

“I’ve always liked puzzles,” you muse. “There’s nothin’ like it when it all finally clicks.” 

Hotch hums, and for a moment, he’s silent. Your gaze remains fully on him, and that might be why he has trouble thinking. It’s too easy to get lost in your eyes. 

“What did that guy say?” Hotch finally manages to ask, because he honestly can’t help it. Morgan’s points actually worried him a bit, and he wonders what that says about him. Ex-frat boy certainly isn’t your type, but someone forgettable for a one night stand isn’t the most absurd thing in the world. 

Your brows knit together as you drink some more. “What guy?”

“The officer you were talking with,” he says. “He seemed to like you.” 

He’d been flirting with you since the moment you stepped into the precinct, actually, desperate for your attention, but Hotch didn’t really want to say that. He’s sure you noticed either way, if the rest of the team did. 

“Oh. Him.” You shrug. “He’s nice, I guess. Definitely a looker. But he’s got nothing beneath that hair.” 

“Morgan’s surprised you didn’t bring him back,” Hotch says. He wonders if he’s pushing too much, and again, he feels like a highschooler testing the waters. Do you know what you do to him? What you reduce him to? 

You shrug as you take a sip. “If he knows what’s good for him, he knows he doesn’t have a chance. My attention’s on someone else.” 

Prentiss calls your name and you get drawn back into the middle of the team’s conversation, and thankfully, Hotch has a chance to digest your words—and the stunner of a smile you flash at him before you get pulled into their talk. 

His decision to not drink seems even wiser, now. Hotch has to loosen his tie, and he ignores Reid watching him. It’s futile trying to hide anything from Spencer Reid—the kid already knows everything. 

Again, it's dangerous how much satisfaction he gets from it—from knowing you never really paid that officer a second thought. You didn’t smile at him the way you smile at Hotch. You don’t smile at anyone the way you smile at Hotch. He thought he was imagining it at first, or that he was just a bit too stuck up, but it was the honest truth. You paid him special attention, and he couldn’t blame the warmth in his chest from the thought on any alcohol. 

He tunes back into the conversation just to hear Morgan demand you pay for his next drink. 

“You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” you say. 

He puts a hand to his chest. “Generous? You’re just paying what you owe me.” 

You laugh and shake your head. “Pick your poison, pretty boy.” 

“How do you feel about tequila?” 

You make a noise of disgust and shake your head. “As long as I don’t have to drink it.” 

“You’re just paying, sweetheart.” Morgan’s eyes dart to Hotch, and he nods as he grins. “One for me and our fearless leader.” 

Hotch shakes his head. “Someone has to get us back to the hotel.” 

“That’s what cabs are for!” Prentiss exclaims. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Hotchner. You deserve to let a little loose.” 

“It takes most people an hour to process a drink,” Reid contributes, “so you’ll be fine before we leave if you want to drive.” 

“Come on, Hotch,” you say, and you nudge his shoulder. “You might as well—I’m paying.” 

“...Fine,” he says, and the whole team cheers. Even Reid smiles. 

“Y’know, you can smile tonight, Hotch,” you say with one of your own before you down the rest of your drink and stand up.

And one actually tugs at his lips. It feels a lot hotter in this bar with your eyes sparkling and you beaming right at him, and he fights the need to shed his jacket. Your grin somehow grows. 

“That’s what I came out to see,” you remark as you pick your wallet back up from the table. “I expect another when I get back, Hotch. There’s a lot to celebrate tonight.” 

Yeah, he thinks as he watches you go. There just might be. 

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hello friend!

Would it be alright if I request some angst content with the Archons + Neuvi + Arlecchino where the darling is injured to a lethal extent, where they are hanging by a thread (your choice if it was self-given or otherwise).

Maybe some of them took darling's company and time for granted so having them be so close to gone is like a wake up call to them, and they become 10x more overbearing, and perhaps a little loving? Thank you!!!

🍌anon

Hi thank you so much for the request! Unfortunately I don't really do more than 3-4 characters in one post anymore so I did half the characters you asked for, but you are 100% free to send in another request for the others <3 I hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including mentions of violence, mentions of delusional behavior, mentions of reader being sick, hurt, and otherwise injured, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk.

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino might be a bit cold and standoffish, but she was never a cruel lover. She just didn’t trust herself to get any closer to you than she was. She’d sleep in the same bed as you at night, buy you gifts, and eat meals with you, but affection was a difficult thing to get from her. Arlecchino has feared being close to someone not because she doesn’t want to be loved, but because she doesn’t want to experience any more loss in her life.

She thought that by keeping you at arm’s length she could protect you, but in fact, she had been wrong. Sitting by your bedside, ears blocking out the dull beeping of your monitors as she stares. Not at your face, she can’t bring herself to look at your gorgeous features after letting you get this hurt, but instead, she stares at your hand. It lays limp on top of the bed sheets, and as much as Arlecchino hates to admit it, she wants nothing more than to hold it right now.

It’s almost as painful as the first time she saw you all bandaged up, wires all over you as you lay on the bed, looking more so asleep than in the coma the doctor said you were in. The desire to hold your hand, it made her fingers twitch, her nose scrunch and her heart hurt. Arlecchino loved you, undoubtedly, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be affectionate with you on this level. Against her will though, her hand seems to move on its own, creeping up the side of the bed and gently scooping up your limp one. Arlecchino was never one to cry, a barely audible curse leaving her lips as she bites them, trying to steady their trembling as she turns her head, blinking away the building tears. She hated crying, but she hated even more that this was the first time she’d ever held your hand, a time when you couldn’t even return it, couldn’t even be awake to feel it.

Neuvillette:

Neuvillette is distraught, both because of how long it took him to notice how bad your cold had been getting and because he didn’t even notice till a small hoard of angry melusines stormed his office. It wasn’t like he was trying to be ignorant, he had just been busy and figured that you’d get over your cold soon. Humans are strong and resilient, a mere cold shouldn’t be that difficult, especially with some melusines caring for you.

He had rushed home immediately, finding you curled up under a mass of blankets and yet still shivering, a gathering of melusines around you fussing and frantic over your continuous decline. While Neuvillette wanted to reassure them that you’d be alright, looking at you in this moment, he couldn’t even reassure himself of that.

A week had passed since Neuvillette had rushed home, refusing to return to his office until you had made a full recovery. He spent most of the day laying in bed with you, helping to keep you warm by holding you close, his natural body temperature being higher than humans helped greatly with this. He wasn’t worried about catching your cold, dragons had much hardier immune systems, but he was worried about your slow recovery rate. Even with the gracious help of the melusines, you had rapidly declined before he came around to ensure you were recovering. A small part of him wonders what it was that was making you worse, he knew the care the melusines provided was above and beyond what he could do himself. The small part of him that doesn’t know hides the smaller part that does know what was wrong, that small bit of denial that his ignorance was making you worse.

Zhongli:

It had been a long time since Zhongli last felt the warm, sticky feeling of blood on his hands, the front of his suit splattered in it and his polearm drenched in it. Despite having once been the war god, it was never something Zhongli enjoyed, which was why he made the change to the god of contracts. Yet in this moment, he couldn’t refrain from the violent nature that lurked within him. 

Seeing you crumpled on the ground, an ever-growing puddle of blood beneath you as a gathering of treasure hoarders laughed and stalked off, hands holding belongings stolen from the innocent citizens of Liyue, you included. It left a gross feeling in his chest, a sickening, growing rage that he couldn’t dismiss. His first move was to evaluate your condition, making sure you were stable before demanding Xiao, his most treasured Adeptus, take you to the Bubu pharmacy. His second course of action was to summon his polearm, following the obvious trail the attackers had left behind.

Zhongli didn’t even bother to clean up before going to visit you, his once pristine image now stained as he stalked into the pharmacy. He was covered in dried red, yet not a spec was his. He didn’t even need directions to know where you were, silently walking over to the cot you were laid on, pulling up a chair to sit beside you as he nodded in regards to the doctor himself, Baizhu. There weren't many in Liyue that Zhongli trusted to treat his beloved well, but Baizhu he knew was a capable doctor. Looking at Xiao, who stood silently in the corner, watching over you till Zhongli arrived, the tall man dismissed the Yaksha, who knew exactly what mess he was being asked to clean up. It was in this moment, watching skilled hands drag a needle through your delicate skin, stitching up wound after wound, that Zhongli swore he’d never leave your side, not even for a moment. He couldn’t lose you.

[01zfan]

hello anton | l. at

boyfriend!anton x fem. reader | 7.6k words

i recommend listening to n side by steve lacy when reading this! a mix of two requests that i felt were kinda the same :3

contains: anton gets a lil messy! protected sex (yassss), nothing else i can really think of.

“oh my god.” anton said breathlessly.

anton can barely take in the sight of you underneath him. anton sees your body that’s shiny from sweat move in tandem with his thrusts amd he watches your mouth slightly open while you moan. anton sees you take all of him, and he can feel it too. anton can see the way your chest heaves, each shaking breath in brings your boobs closer to his face and each time you exhale it ends with a tiny whine. your shy eyes flicker between where anton slides into you to his flushed face. anton gets high off the fact that you can only focus on his eyes for a moment before looking away, letting your head lean over the edge of the bed as you try to gather yourself.

the view you and anton make is mesmerizing. he just wishes it wasn’t so blurry.

anton blames it on his lack of preparation for the night. you two meticulously planned every aspect of the day, determined to finally be alone. there were some surprises along the way, like you showing up to anton’s door with hello kitty pajamas and your plushies in an extra bag. that was a minor bump in the road, anton knew it came with the territory of dating someone so cute. neither of you could deny that the plushies were a bit egregious, but it was something you said you couldn’t sleep without. anton wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, so he helped you take out all your plushies to lay them on his bed. it wasn’t an inconvenience to anton at all. what truly inconvenienced anton was the fact that he ran out of contacts and completely forgot to replenish his supply. it was unlike him to forget something so important; it was fair to say you distracted him.

so now anton had no choice but to look at your naked body through the fogging lenses of his glasses. he could’ve taken them off—they were half way down his nose threatening to slip off anyway. but anton had to have a clear view of you for your first time together. after you guys spent all week making sure everything fell in place for you to be together alone in his apartment he wouldn’t settle for anything less.

your planning started on saturday. usually early morning was when you guys were alone so you two knew you didn’t have time to waste. the moment you heard the door close you wasted no time getting on top of your boyfriend to straddle his hips. while you felt his body anton’s hands roamed frantically, lifting your shirt and cupping your chest over your bra. 

you moaned into anton’s mouth each time he gave you a gentle squeeze. you let your head fall back with a sigh, catching a glimpse of the show on anton’s macbook before bringing your focus back to him. in moments like these you couldn’t get many words out, anything in your mind being replaced with the thought of someone coming in and interrupting you guys. you spoke to anton through actions and the way you pressed your hips close to his told him you needed more. 

anton took the initiative to guide your back to his couch, slotting himself between your legs as he continued to kiss you. his grip on your chest only tightened when you wrapped your leg around his waist to pull his legs closer. anton left your lips to focus on your neck, breathing so heavy the sound of his huffs crackled in your ears. anton sucked and nibbled on the skin of your neck and your hand moved to the armrest of the couch to steady yourself. your other hand went to the back of anton’s head to press him deeper into your neck. you let him suck harder and you could feel his teeth indent your skin. when he bit down slightly you pulled away from him to see his glossy lips and blown out eyes.

“take your shirt off anton.” you whimpered.

immediately anton heeded your request, leaning back to lift his shirt over his head. 

before he could even put his hands on the bottom hem of his shirt, the door opened. you let out a sound of surprise and so did anton, his body whipping around to see who came through the door. you quickly got up from the couch too, pulling yourself from under anton to peer over the top of the sofa. 

sohee stood in the doorway, only frozen for a second before realizing the scene before him. after seeing you and anton’s position on the couch he rolled his eyes before walking fully into the room.

“you two are disgusting.” sohee murmured. 

sohee set his bag on his desk next to the door as he went to get on his computer. you and anton fixed your appearances and you cleared your throat.

“we weren’t doing anything.” anton said shyly. 

“yeah okay.” sohee scoffed while putting on his gaming headset.

“also you couldn’t knock?” anton said.

“it’s like eight in the morning. i thought you two would be asleep still.” sohee said.

this was a common occurrence when coming to the dorms. it was almost impossible to get a moment alone with anton, always getting interrupted right as things started to get really interesting. more times than you could count you and anton would be in the heat of the moment and have someone come through the door, or a guilty conscious would stop you from taking things further. 

there was a day when the two of you were locked away in anton’s room while sohee was in some classroom taking a test. making out was your favorite thing to do with anton when sohee wasn’t there, but sungchan being in the shared space of the apartment stopped you guys from going any further. you can’t say you didn’t try, but when you let your hand drift downwards anton held your wrist.

“i can’t focus while sungchan is right outside.” anton said quietly.

“he’s probably back in his room.” you whispered to him.

you made a feeble attempt to fight against his grip, smiling at the fact that anton was barely exerted any strength. despite anton having a hold on you and the upper hand in the situation, he became a blushing mess purely at the thought of being walked in on. even when you took off your shirt to entice him he would only look entranced for a moment before bashfully shaking his head.

“you look amazing, but i can’t. i’m sorry.” anton said, blush creeping across his face.

you understood anton’s reservations, but you wanted nothing more than to go all the way. it seemed like you two were destined for a relationship filled with heavy petting and interrupted make out sessions. it seemed like this situation had happened too much, with both of you hot and bothered on the couch while sohee was sitting on his computer.

“there’s food outside by the way.” sohee said.

you and anton left the room while sohee had his headset on. you shot sohee your meanest glare, sohee only rolled his eyes before focusing on the game. 

it was embarrassing being caught by sohee, but it was not nearly as bad as anton’s other roommates in the kitchen. they pulled themselves away from their food solely to tease you guys as you emerged from anton’s room. anton’s face was beet red by the time they were done asking their prodding questions and making jokes.

“what were you two doing in there with the door closed?” eunseok asked obnoxiously.

anton had to just lower his head while you laughed all of the comments off. it wasn’t until seunghan said something about making a big car fit into a small garage that you were stunned into silence. you were able to get out of the situation after that, saying you had a class to go to. anton nodded his head a little too quickly when you asked him to take you, extremely happy to get out of his current situation.

on the walk to your class you guys started planning how to be alone in his apartment. it worked out perfectly, convincing sungchan to throw a party at the place he shared with shotaro. all you had to bring up was an important game on campus and the rest was like clockwork. the hardest part of the plan was trying to get sohee to go. after anton groveled and promised to help him with his composing assignment he folded. 

the planning and devising led to the moment of you knocking on anton’s door, overnight bag and duffle in hand. you smiled big when anton opened the door, nodding to show you your grand scheme worked. you hugged and jumped into his arms. anton smiled from ear to ear at your excitement, closing your door while you were jumping.

anton took your bags and kissed your forehead, walking over to his room. you followed behind anton buzzing with every emotion, excited for what the night had in store for you both. 

it hit anton a little differently, he was suddenly nervous at what could potentially happen tonight. what if someone came in while you two were together? what if anton wasn’t good enough for you? anton turns around and looks at you, stuffing his hands nervously in his sweatpants. he sees you look him up and down, pointing at your duffle bag. anton hands it to you and you squat to the floor to open it.

“i have something for you. well for us.” you laugh.

anton peaks into your bag and sees all of your plushies, then anton sees you reach into the depths and pull out a matching pajama set for the two of you. 

anton sighed heavily at the matching hello kitty pajama set just to see your reaction. you still had a big smile on your face when you handed anton his set. when he looked a little hesitant all you had to do was slightly pout your lips and look crestfallen before he took the pajamas from your hands wordlessly. he changed into his set quickly, feeling ridiculous in the cute pajamas until he saw your large smile. anton almost thought it was embarrassing how willingly he’d do anything for you just to see you happy. anton followed your smile all the way to his bedroom, trailing behind you with your overnight bag and duffle bag.

you and anton set up your plushies on his bed, turning them away from your body so you could change. anton sat on the edge of his bed watching you too, not even trying to hide it. he debated on holding one of your hello kitty plushies in his lap to cover her eyes like he did when he was at your apartment. but when you took off your shirt anton forgot what he was thinking about completely. his hands instinctively went to his eyes like he hasn’t seen you naked countless times. when anton peaked at you through open cracks in his fingers you both laughed. 

when you were all dressed anton put his hands down, a light blush started to spread across his cheeks. you imagined you felt the same as him in this moment, your face becoming so warm it was almost uncomfortable. you gave anton a little twirl, laughing about how the pajama set was just a size too big. the sleeves hung past your hands and the waistband was loose on your waist. anton’s ears started to become a light red when you lifted your hand to let the loose sleeve drop to your elbow. anton gives you a big smile, one that lifts his glasses slightly on his face.

“you look cute.” anton said.

anton held out his hand to you and you came closer to him. you let anton put his hand on your waist, acting as your impromptu human belt. he doesn’t know why his hand gravitates to the dip on your body, resting there whenever he gets the chance. you like it though, because anton’s neck was like a magnet for your hands. on the rare occasion you got the chance to clasp your hands behind anton’s neck you took it. so you come closer to your boyfriend as he sits on the edge of his bed and put your hands on the base of his neck. anton has to tilt his head upwards to look at you, his large frames helps him take you all in.

“we look cute,” you bend down to kiss anton’s forehead. “we look super cute actually.” you say.

you started messing with the stitching of anton’s shirt. it as soft underneath your fingertips, and felt just textured enough to distract yourself from looking at anton for too long. standing above him in between his legs makes you feel jittery. anton pushed his glasses up his nose bridge with the hand that wasn’t on your hips and sighed contently. when he leaned his head against your hand, you had no choice but to look at him.

 “how many times have we been able to be alone?” anton asked.

he spoke to you but his mind seemed like it was somewhere else. his thumb mindlessly rubbed your waist, causing the extra fabric of your shirt to fold underneath his finger. you tried to recall the times you two have been completely alone and it was a struggle. even at your own apartment you lived with roommates and the apartment’s dog. the only time you could think was on a date, but even then it wasn’t completely private. study dates were in the public library and movie dates were always in packed theaters. 

“less than what i can count on my hand.” you answered.

maybe that’s why you were so nervous. it was hard to imagine what it would be like being truly alone with anton, if he would change knowing that you two couldn’t be interrupted.

anton sighed and you understood why. maybe you two would eventually move out soon so you could spend the rest of your days together. but that was a conversation for later. right now you wanted to focus on the finite amount of alone time you had with your boyfriend. almost instantly it was like a switch had been flipped, the unresolved tension between you two filled the room. anton’s other hand came to your hip and he held you there in place. his words bobbed in his throat like his adam’s apple and you saw anton swallow twice before you made your own move. 

you looked at anton with your most unassuming expression when you clasped your hands behind his neck and moved to sit on his lap. you couldn’t bare to say what you were doing out loud so you were happy anton got the hint. he opened his legs enough for your legs to rest between them. anton clasped his hands on your waist and smiled as you sat on his thigh.

anton looked up at you with shining eyes and you unclasped your hands to move some hair from his face. you let your hand rest on his shoulder, using the socket joint like a stress ball. when anton looked at you a certain way you subconsciously squeezed him.

“are you nervous?” anton asked.

you wish you were nervous. you have always been nervous, to the point that you knew how to handle it. when you felt the nerves building up and got so bad to the point where you couldn’t think, you knew what to do. you learned breathing exercises and counting things until your breathing steadied and you stopped shaking. but this was something you didn’t know how to manage. it started wherever you touched anton and blossomed around your whole body, feeling like a million ants were on you. it was going to consume you whole if you didn’t do something about it soon.

anton’s hand that was on your waist had found a way to sneak underneath your shirt and rest on your bare stomach. seeing your boyfriend in glasses was arguably an even bigger distraction. the way he kept constantly pushing the glasses up his nose bridge had you thinking things that left your whole body feeling hot. anton was no better, lifting the fabric of your shirt as an excuse to clean his lenses. you settled further on anton’s lap and enjoyed feeling him get tense underneath you. you liked teasing him the same way he teased you, trying to get a rise out of him.

it was a challenge for anton to not be tense, especially with you on him like this. he had a perfect view of your whole body and he could see you practically swimming in your oversized pajamas. he wonders if you purposely bought your sets to be the same size just so you both could revel in the difference. anton’s eyes kept going to his hand that was pressed against your stomach, a faint outline showing through your shirt. he tried to be subtle when let his hand drift a little lower to the waistband of your pants. anton’s middle and ring finger finds their way underneath the elastic, the rest of his fingers rest on the outside of your pants. 

you looked up at anton from underneath his chin, smiling at him trying to be inconspicuous. you bring anton in for a kiss and he reciprocates. the hand that isn’t drifting further into your pajama pants wraps around your body to give you stability. feeling anton’s hand on your shoulder makes you desperate, you push your face further into his with your quick kisses, and anton takes it all. with each push he pushes back and you think he might be just as desperate as you are. 

all of your plushies watch as you kiss anton all the way down to the bed, pushing up from him to stand up. anton gets on his elbows to watch you take off your ridiculously large pajama shirt, throwing it on the ground. anton follows your lead and takes off his shirt with one hand. he sets it on the bed next to him over a cluster of your hello kitty memorabilia.

anton fully gets on the bed and you get on after, maneuvering until you hover over him. it’s almost awkward, not knowing what to do next. you two have spent so much time trying to get to this moment you never stopped to think what comes after. you look at his eyes past his frames, how he pushes them up and lets his hand go to your waist. you kiss his lips again, and you can feel the cool frames of his glasses press against your nose. 

you both find your rhythm again together. like when you were sitting on his lap, anton cups your heat again. you straddle anton’s legs to give his hand that’s in your pants more room to work with and he presses two fingers against your covered slit experimentally. you nod your head and pause kissing him, too distracted by the sudden feeling. anton loves being the reason why you lose your train of thought and he loves being able to see it in real time. he presses his fingers harder, feeling the fabric stick to your folds. 

“can i—” anton asks.

“yes please.” you answer. 

anton puts his hand into your panties teasing your clit with his index and middle finger. you continue to kiss anton as he runs his finger through your folds. anton runs his fingers up and down repeatedly, letting your slick gather on his fingers. you start taking the lead on kissing, tilting anton’s face with your hands to put your tongue into his mouth. he moans and opens his mouth wider. you occasionally let your eyes open for a split second, to see anton’s glasses fog up and the way his lips move with yours. 

when anton puts two fingers inside of you, you lose the beat of kissing anton. you two had been in this position many times before, with anton finger fucking you while you squirmed above him and each time it was the same. you would go into it determined to keep up with his speed, and not lose your mind while kissing him. but it was no use—you were kissing him back a beat too late, and interrupting his tongue in your mouth with little whines. you were so distracted by the feeling of him inside of you that you had to abandon kissing him completely. you retreated from anton’s lips and put your face in the crook of his neck, panting right into his ear. he loved hearing you get desperate and feeling you push your hips back to meet his hand. 

anton’s arm across your back kept you in place and his legs kept yours spread. anton knew you had a habit of closing in on yourself like a supernova when you were close, evident in the countless times he’s fingered you before. he’s had to keep a hand on your thighs many times using gentle force to keep you from locking his hand in place. but anton had to admit he had gotten a little carried away in this position. when anton lifted his head to look down he saw that part you were spread the farthest he’s ever seen you. even as you were straddling him, anton had spread his own legs to keep yours even further apart. anton felt no resistance as he plunged his fingers in and out of you. it actually felt like your hole was pathetically trying to keep his fingers inside of you, pulsing around his digits like a heartbeat. anton saw it all, the way your legs bent and twitched as you got closer. anton could barely make out where your legs ended and his began, the matching pajama set throwing him off in the best way possible. 

when you pressed your hips to anton’s straining dick he groaned. you looked up from his neck to see his adam’s apple bob in his throat and how he pressed his head into his mattress. you pressed your hips against his again to try and illicit the same reaction. anton looked at your through his big frames. they were falling down his nose and you used a shaky hand to push them back up. anton smiled and stuck his fingers into you deeper, bending them at the knuckle. your head went back into your boyfriend’s neck and he cranes his neck to kiss your temple.

“thank you baby.” anton said.

you tried to say you’re welcome but it turned into a whimper. anton didn’t stop, his hand drifting down to grab a handful of your ass. you whimpered again feeling anton knead your supple skin. you couldn’t stop yourself from digging your fingers into the skin of his shoulder. the same way he was leaving a handprint on your ass you were leaving crescent moons on anton’s shoulder. he picked up the pace of his fingers and you couldn’t stop squirming. you felt the you started slowly losing your mind, trying to parts of anton to hold on to.

“you’re close, right?” anton asked.

you pick your head up from the crook of anton’s neck to look at his face. you nod your head like anton didn’t already know. your heart thuds in your ribcage and you’re certain anton can feel the beat against his sweaty chest. you nod your head pitifully when anton increases his pace.

“yeah” you whined.

“hold onto my arm.” anton said.

instantly you reached your hand behind you back to grab anton’s arm. you flail a couple times, grasping at nothing until you put your hand over anton’s the rests on your ass. anton lets go of your ass to grab your hand, pushing down so your stomach presses into his hard dick. you try your best to push your body down on your own accord but you can’t control yourself. all you can focus on is the way anton’s fingers bend and pump in and out of you. you let anton use his strength to press your body against him, loving the feeling of him twitching against your stomach. 

you clench around anton’s three fingers and hold his hand tightly. the orgasm is white and hot and you take it out on anton’s neck, biting and sucking his skin in effort to bring anton pleasure too. he notices your attempt and sighs contently feeling your tongue on his skin.

“just like that.” you whine in between kisses.

anton nods and keeps thrusting his fingers into you. the sound fills your room, even anton makes sounds of surprise as he feels how wet your are. he doesn’t stop until you are a shaking mess on top of him. you use the last of your strength to pull yourself from anton’s neck to see his face. he looks down at you over the top rim of his glasses. your body turns to jelly on top of him, resting your head on his while he slows down his fingers. your moans become high pitched and airy. 

by the time anton pulls his fingers from your heat you drooled onto his chest and your body almost feels numb. anton kisses the top of your head and you sigh, chest still heaving. you rest your head over anton’s heart and hear that his beat matches yours. it reverbs in your ear as you steady your breathing, and anton rubs you back in an effort to bring you back to earth.

you roll off of anton towards the edge of the bed when your breathing finally settles. you’re right next to the cluster f your plushies that anton covered with his shirt. anton turns to face you, propped up on his elbow as he places a hand on your stomach. he rubs the skin there and he can feel the muscles in your stomach tense. you’re so sensitive and nearly jumpy from his touches but anton can still see that hungry look in your eye. he pushes his frames up one more time and darts out his tongue to wet his lips. 

“are you okay?” anton asks. 

“yeah.” you answer.

anton’s fingers trace shapes over your abdomen. he only adds a little pressure behind his touches occasionally, just to gauge your sensitivity. your body doesn’t let you calm down. when you remember you’re truly alone in this apartment the same antsy feeling returns over your body. anticipation builds underneath your skin and in between your legs. the anticipation makes you put your hands over anton’s that rests on your stomach. you nod and pull his body towards you, trying to silently show anton you want him to get on top of you. he obliges, clambering over your body to hover over yours.

anton goes from his elbow to his palm to get a better view of you. he liked this angle better, this way he would be able to see your expressions quickly and see what you were looking at. he could see clearly from up here that you couldn’t really manage to look at him to too long, your eyes drifting to his nose or shoulder every so often.

“is this okay?” anton asked.

you nod and moved your legs, giving space for anton to slot himself between your legs. he watches your expression behind his glasses as he experimentally presses his bulge into your clothed heat. you sigh and nod your head vigorously. 

“i need you so bad anton.” you whine.

it’s frustrating how many layers of clothes separate you from anton. you pull down your pajama pants and ruined panties in one go. you don’t bother taking them off all the way before lifting your feet to push anton’s waistband down. you have never been this impatient in your life, but you feel like you may burst into flames if you don’t quell the fire that has been building up to this moment.

anton goes back on his haunches, putting a hand on your bent knee.

“i’ll be right back.” anton says before getting off the bed completely. 

you watch him walk over to his dresser and you finish taking off your bottoms, leaving you completely naked on his bed. the air in anton’s room is cold and you let your knees come together to hide your bare center. 

anton comes back to the side of the bed quickly, holding two condoms and a completely full bottle of lube. it makes your face a little hot, knowing the condoms and lube you two bought together was about to be put to use. anton feels it too, his face already dusted with blush. he awkwardly bends down to put the things in the crater of his sweater that still lays on his bed. 

you start thinking about your plushies that lay underneath anton’s sweater only for a moment before you see anton pull his pajama pants down. he’s left in just his boxers, standing on the edge of the bed looking down at you. you sit up and let your legs drape over the edge of the bed. you look up at anton and let your shaky hands go to his waistband. before you can pull his boxers down, he puts his hand over yours.

“are you sure?” anton asks.

“yes,” you nod your head. “are you?” you ask.

anton nods and puts his hands on his waistband next to yours. you two work together to take off his boxers together, his dick springing free. it bobs in the air, so close to your face if you stuck out your tongue you’re sure you be able to taste him. you reach out your hand and wrap it around the base of anton’s dick. it never ceases to amaze you how it’s so heavy and big but still sticks straight forward. you are also driven by the light sighs and gasps of anton when you drag your hand down his length. it glides easily, from all the precum that beads at his tip. you stick out your tongue and anton puts a hand on your shoulder to stop you.

“i won’t last,” anton gently pushes your shoulders back until you lay down on the bed. he positions himself between you and the wall once you’re down. “and i’ve waited so long.” he says.

you nod and put your body at an angle to try and give anton more room. his body is large and awkward as he figures out the best position for both of your bodies. you two end up laying diagonally on the bed, with anton on his haunches slotted between your legs. you reach behind you blindly to feel around for the foil packet. when it’s in your hands you give it to anton, propping yourself on your elbows to watch him.

anton is gentle ripping the foil packet, putting the trash on top of his pile of clothes. you feel lightheaded seeing anton put the condom on himself. you can see his abs flexing and his dick twitching from the stimulation. you think about how anton touches himself when you aren’t around, if he throws his head back the same way he does when you give him a handjob. you have to stop yourself from asking him to touch himself and you bend your legs, spreading them more for anton. he pinches the tip of the condom to make sure it’s secure before coming to you. 

one of his hands is beside your head when comes down to kiss your lips. you reciprocate, reaching a hand between your two bodies to stroke his dick. he sighs against your lips before replacing his hand with yours. you both look down, the weight of what is about to happen starts sinking in. you start to realize how big anton truly is as he hovers above you. you wonder if he’ll be able to fit when he lets his tip prod at your slit. anton kisses your cheek when he looks down at you again. 

“tell me if it’s too much, okay?” anton says, pushing up his glasses.

anton intertwines his fingers with yours and kisses your knuckles as he lines himself up. he’s so big above you and the position you’re currently in only makes you feel smaller. your nose touches his adam’s apple as he kisses your forehead and slowly pushes himself in.

you both gasp when anton puts his tip in. you feel the stretch and anton feels your walls clenching around him as he slides further in. you clench around him in uneven intervals, your pussy desperately trying to get use to the stretch. your squeeze anton’s hand as he sinks further in, and it’s his turn to go into the crook of your neck as he tries to compose himself.  he curses into your soft and sweaty skin, kissing the skin there to try and soothe you.

“you’re so big.” you whine.

anton doesn’t know if you meant to say it out loud, your thoughts coming out without a filter. regardless, he can feel his dick twitch from you words and the way you whimper while taking him. he’s happy he was able to finger you and the extra lubrication of your previous orgasm helps anton fit inside of you snuggly. each time anton curses in your ear or gives you praise he can feel your walls closing in on him. you become a mess underneath him when he bottoms out, feeling like a heartbeat around his length. you finally open your eyes and move a hand to his shoulder, lifting him from the crook of your neck. you have to readjust his glasses for him, and there’s fog from the hot air radiating from your skin.

“keep going anton.” you say.

anton looks down at you then to your plushies that are covered up by his shirt. he pulls out all the way before sliding back in just as slow. he giggles a little bit and your eyebrows furrow in confusion, mind partially occupied by the feeling of anton easing back into you.

“good thing they’re not watching.” anton said quietly.

you wanted to retort but you couldn’t when you felt his hips kiss yours as he bottoms out inside of you again.

the same way anton’s hips were slowly bringing you over the edge of the bed anton was crossing over the edge of something himself. he was actively abandoning the meek version of himself that could only huff and whimper at the feeling of you wrapped around him. he was becoming someone more dominant, someone that pressed his hand to your lower stomach before he pulled out of you all the way and pushed inside of you again.

“can you feel me here?” anton asked.

he was close to your ear when he asked his question. anton’s breath stuck to your sweaty skin and the humidity between your two bodies fogged his glasses. 

“so big.” you said nodding your head.

“so small. and tight too.” anton replied.

when you dug your fingernails into his skin it gave anton the confidence to continue. 

he raises up from your body to look down at you. this gives a whole different angle, and it feels like anton might split you down the middle. 

anton knew he didn’t have a dominant personality. he didn’t hate it, he felt like the label of gentle giant suited him well. if his voice was any indication he didn’t know how to be the domineering type. he stuck with being the soft-spoken and calm one, even in your relationship. anton left his friends wondering how he even got the bravery to approach you or ask you on a date. honestly, anton didn’t really know either. he knew it was all your doing.

but when anton looked down at the sight below him through his low hanging glasses he felt different. anton could see you struggle to take all of him and he could feel your nails digging into his arms to steady yourself. he saw your eyebrows crease and your mouth open as you struggled to get anything besides tiny whimpers and moans out. anton could feel himself needing more, and he decided he would be the one to get it out of you. 

anton came to a complete stop inside of you. he loved the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and how expressive your eyes were when you looked up at him. 

“what’s wrong?” you asked.

anton physically shivered seeing the tears in the corner of your eyes and the way your voice was still shaky and pitched high from your whining. anton bends his body close to yours, so close that your nose pushes his glasses up. anton puts his arm underneath your knee to hike it up slightly and he lets his lips ghost over yours. 

before you can repeat your question anton quickly pulls himself out of you all the way and thrusts back inside of you. it’s the roughest he’s ever been with you, the force pushes your body slightly over the edge of anton’s bed. anton’s lips still ghost over yours, his eyes scan parts of your face that he can see. he sees the way your eyes close and the way your lips part. anton stills inside of you again, waiting for you to open your eyes. 

you keep eye contact with him, pupils blown out from lust when anton pulls all the way out of you again. you brace yourself for it, feeling his hand press deep into your lower stomach. anton thrusts into you again with the same force and you let your moan rip through the room, letting your head lean over the foot of anton’s bed. this is when anton pulls away from you guiding your legs to wrap around his waist. you do so immediately, loving the way anton manhandles you. you’re happy he spares you from hearing his commanding voice. if anton told you to do something right now you think you would finish on the spot.

you can barely recover before anton starts fucking you again. he doesn’t pull out all the way like he did before, but thrusts into you with a force that’ll push you completely off the bed soon. you have to hold onto his arm to stay in place. 

anton lets your small hand wrap around his bicep, he flexes to give you something steady to hold onto. he folds back over, putting a hand on the top of your head to try and push your body ever closer to his. the way you look constantly has him changing positions. anton can’t control his mind from telling him to give you everything he has. and anton watches you take it all.

“i just can’t get enough of you.” anton sucks on the lobe of your ear.

he ruts into you now, the momentum causing your chest to move. anton wishes he had more hands to touch you with, so he could tweak your nipples and press deeply into you stomach and stimulate your clit all at the same time. but anton makes the sacrifice of feeling himself in your stomach to move to your chest. he revels in the fact that you fit so easily in his hand and he can’t stop himself from taking your tit into his mouth, sucking up and looking at you.

anton can barely see your through his sweaty bangs that fall past the rim of his glasses and blocks his view. he knows you like it by the way you moan his name and arch your back. your hand goes to rub anton’s head, like you’re petting him for being a good boy. this only makes anton pick up the speed and push you further over the edge of his bed. you head leans completely over and you can hear the sound of his creaking metal frame and the dull thud of your plushies falling off the bed.

you think you hear something else, but it’s forgotten when anton pulls your upper body to meet his like you weigh nothing. before you can comprehend anything anton plants his foot on the ground next to the bed so he can fuck you sitting up. you put your foot on the edge of the bed beside him to get closer. anton laughs and kisses your face at your fucked out expression.

“not too much, right?” anton asks.

you shake your head and kiss anton back. 

“it feels so good.” you whine

“good. i just want you to feel good.” anton says.

his words come out a little rough, cut short by how determined he is to fuck you. when you see anton look at your chest again you arch your back up to him to give him access. he doesn’t suck on your chest, only runs his wet tongue whenever he can reach. he has to look at you over the rim of his glasses now, and he sees your blurry lips suck on his fingers when he presses them on your tongue. he can see shine coming from the corners of your lips and spit covers your chest. you are a complete mess and it’s all for anton to partially see. 

“you close?” anton asks.

you nod pitifully, words failing to get out as you nearly gag on anton’s fingers.

anton looks down to where your two bodies meet. he lets a glob of spit fall from his mouth and he misses landing it on your clit. it falls on your abdomen and mixes with your sweat to glide down your body. anton takes his hand that was wrapped around your body to gather the spit and circle your clit. you start clenching around him uncontrollably the same way you did when he first slid in. anton hisses and works through the nearly blinding pleasure, continuing his motions.

“so tight i can barely move.” anton groans. 

you can barely keep your body upright anymore. your leg that was bent behind anton slid on his sheets and your thigh rests on his leg that’s planted to the floor. anton sits taller than you on the bed, and he kisses your forehead because he knows your close. you being so close makes anton desperate. he continues to hit the spot that he knows drives you crazy as he talks to you.

“i need to see you cum baby.” anton cooes.

you can only nod your head weakly before it hits you. you pull anton into you by his shoulders, your hands digging into the skin on his back. you’re the loudest you’ve ever been in your life, nearly crying out anton’s name with curse words wedged in between. anton continues to look down at you and kiss your face as squeeze around his length. anton waits for you to open your eyes to see the determined look you get. anton notices that you try to move your hips to meet his.

when anton cums he lays you down back to your original position. he forgets he’s wearing a condom when he stills inside of you after going as deep as possible. he ruts into you like you are taking every last drop and it ignites something inside of anton that he didn’t know existed. 

“fucking take it.” anton says quietly into your neck.

you lift your hips in response, and you milk anton as he empties into the condom. something was just ignited inside of you too.

when both of you come down from your high, anton settles his weight on top of you. you can only let him stay like that for a moment before tapping his shoulder. he looks up from your chest and is genuinely lost for a second like he forgot how big he is.

“oh shit. i’m sorry.” anton says.

the sweet innocent boyfriend is back in the blink of an eye. he pulls out of you to tie off his condom, looking back at your naked body as you roll on his bed. anton he picks up your plushies off the ground while you try and fight sleep away, slipping back into his hello kitty pajamas. anton gives you your clothes back before leaving the room. 

you can hear a faucet running, far off somewhere in another room before anton returns. he sits you up on the bed and wipes down the areas where he was the messiest. he gets the corner of your mouth and your chest, and he wipes down your thighs and core. you are still sensitive and preen from his touch. when you groan sleepily anton puts your head gently.

“you were amazing.” anton says. 

you open your eyes and pinch your boyfriend’s cheek, smiling at how cute he is. 

“you were too.” you say.

anton kisses your cheek and helps you back into your clothes. you both settle in bed, exerted and ready to sleep. you grab a hello kitty plushie and put it in between your two bodies. both of you kiss the stuffed animal’s head like it’s your baby.

you fall asleep on anton’s chest as he rubs your back, both of you finding a million different ways to say i love you

[buckets-and-trees]

Sweet, sweet Aspen. You have been a very bad girl. This soft!dark guy, your boss, caught you doing something wrong—something that could easily get you fired—but he decided maybe, jussst maybe, he should keep your indiscretion, and your resulting punishment, between the two of you. After all, he’s been dreaming about filling you with his cock for ages 😏

(I picked this GIF because it looks like he’s saying, “On your knees.” lolll)

well, dearly beloved sister ho, you know we were thirsting over a particularly ... inspiring gif.

I don't think you anticipated your ask to spawn THIS, but... here we are! THANKS FOR POPPING MY ANDY CHERRY!

Fandom: Chris Evans Characters Title: I'm Your Man Characters/Pairings: soft dark!Mafia!Andy Barber x female!reader Word Count: 3k

Summary: You've spent weeks working to pull off the perfect night for Andy Barber's big charity event. A rush job, but you worked meticulously and diligently over six weeks to coordinate the biggest event of your career to date. You weren't the only one with a plan for the night.

Content Warnings: extortion, explicit smut, DUBIOUS CONSENT, spitting, oral - male receiving, spanking, vaginal intercourse, breeding kink, unprotected sex

Logistical Notes: A NAUGHTY submission @the-slumberparty's Naughty or Nice challenge. Prompts incorporated are in bold.

Additional Notes: I didn't want to write a summary. There's only enough plot here to smut you up. Dividers by @rookthornesartistry and @firefly-graphics.

You sit up straight when you hear the door to Andy’s home office open behind you.

“Thank you for waiting for me,” he says as he strides across the room and takes a seat in the leather executive desk chair.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Barber,” you reply. Every part of your body is tired – tired in a good way from the long day of work – so you were eager to get home, soak in your tiny tub, and crawl into bed for the rest of the weekend, but it hadn’t been an incredible inconvenience when he’d asked if he could speak with you before you left.

“Tonight was exquisite, you did well,” he doles out the praise, and you try to quell the blooming in your chest. In the six weeks working with Andy Barber to plan the charity event you’d just executed for his foundation you had seen that he wasn’t one to casually compliment, hard to impress. You had taken more and more satisfaction out of each meeting, email, or text exchange as you consulted and then presented him with options for the event when he had fewer and fewer notes, knowing you had cracked his taste and gained his approval. He’d been your toughest client to date, but by far one of the most rewarding as he had excellent taste.

“Nearly perfect,” he adds.

Your smile falters ever so slightly, and suddenly your chest floods with a chill. “Nearly perfect? I’m sorry, sir, what didn’t live up to your expectations?”

This was far from your first event, you had built an incredible portfolio over the years, and you knew you were finally ascending to be one of the best event coordinators on the eastern seaboard – you had received an email request from a goddamn Vanderbilt to plan a wedding for them in a year and a half that you were going to respond to and accept in the morning. You weren’t arrogant, but you’d worked damn hard and knew you were good.

“You.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “I – what?”

“Only one misstep tonight.”

Your brain flies back through the evening, reviewing every moment, raking through trying to determine what you could have possibly missed.

“I’m very particular about what belongs to me, and I cannot abide theft.”

Your jaw drops.

“Empty your bag.”

Now your whole body is buzzing with incredulity. You shake your head.

“I know what’s in there.”

You almost didn’t take this job when it landed in your lap. He was the reason you knew you should have said no. There were whispers about his reputation, his real businesses. But you took the initial consultation because the pitch was more money than you’d made over the last three years. Then when you’d met him, he’d been so normal, so nice, maybe a little charming, and up until this moment you had convinced yourself there was no way any of those rumors had been right.

But before you even put your hand in your bag, you knew you were wrong to have thought he wasn't all those awful things.

Not one, not two, but three Rolex watches nestled in the bottom of the main pocket. Watches you'd never seen - wouldn't even have known where to find them.

You scoop them out and drop them on his desk, eyes burning with tears. “Why?”

“Yes, why? I was already giving you a fat paycheck. What a shame when I had just given your name to the Vanderbilts’ social secretary for their son’s wedding a few days ago, I’ll have to reach out and let them know.”

“No,” you breathe.

“I’ll have to discreetly let everyone in my network know it’s better not to invite someone in their home with such light fingers.”

Your breath hitches and your hand flies to your mouth to stifle an almost sob, trying to hold back the onset of tears. “Andy, no, please.”

His smile softens. “There we are,” he coos, “you finally called me Andy like I’ve told you to so many times.”

He leans forward resting his arms on his desk.

“Now, if you go upstairs, be a good girl, put on what I left for you in my room, and wait for me, maybe I can make all of this little misunderstanding go away.”

His steel blue eyes are hard, they demand an answer.

You cock your chin up wishing you could say no, wishing you could even scowl at him, but aside from the heat and hurt in your eyes, you know you can’t do anything more without risking further ruin, so ultimately you let your chin drop and nod, resigned to the impossible power this man wields.

“Now we’re back on track for a perfect night, sweetheart. I’ll be up soon.”

You don’t know how long he makes you wait, using the promise of soon as another show of his power, but long enough that your knees hurt from sitting back on your heels in a submissive, kneeling position with your head lowered, hands folded in your lap, and back to the door as the card in the white box left for you had instructed.

Also in the box had been a set of exquisite black lace and silk balconette bra and cheeky underwear. That they fit you like a glove had been both humiliating and alluring.

Even though Andy was the reason you almost said no to the job, even though he was the humiliating reason you were in this position – extorted into a nearly naked state, no question of what was to come – he was also the reason you took the job.

Dread pooled in your stomach, but along with the dread and humiliation, there were rivulets of shameful desire.

You had taken the job for the money and for how quietly charming he had been. He had never outright flirted with you, but he always left you with the question of whether he was. You worked hard for him because it felt good to win his approval. He praised you and you had preened under his intense blue eyes every time. You had forced yourself to keep everything professional.

All for nothing since you were in the farthest position of professional now.

When you finally hear him enter the room, your sit up straight again.

He tsks and says, “Head down, sweetheart.”

Andy comes around to stand in front of you. You see his perfectly polished shoes, the perfectly tailored trousers. His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your head up to look at him. He runs his thumb over your lips, circling them.

“Open your mouth,” he says.

You do.

He leans closer, then spits in your mouth, and you blink in surprise, a surge of humiliation running through you, but his grip on your jaw is powerful, so you don’t move away.

“Close your mouth but don’t swallow.”

He moves back from you then, and he begins to silently undress. He had already taken off his jacket, but he doesn’t hurry as he unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, the buttons down his chest, and then shrugs it off his shoulders. He places it nicely on a plush armchair on the side of the room. Next he sits on the edge of the bed and removes his shoes and socks.

The way he doesn’t watch you but does all of this in your line of vision, knowing you have to watch, is another move meant to communicate who is in control of this situation. Still holding his saliva on your tongue is starting to become uncomfortable. Your instinct is to swallow, but you don’t know what disobedience may mean with Andy, so you fight the urge, not wanting to tempt any more of his darkness.

He stands and takes the shoes and socks to a large closet off to the side of the room, and when he returns, he stands directly in front of you again, takes your jaw in his hands again.

“Show me,” he says.

Your eyes watch his face you open your mouth, showing him the pool of saliva.

“Good fucking girl,” he murmurs. You hate the small bloom in your chest those words immediately invoke again. He spits into your mouth for a second time, then with a caress that is too tender he urges you to close your mouth. “Swallow.”

You do.

Andy unbuckles his belt, unbuttons the top of his fly, then unzips and pushes down the waist of his trousers with his briefs, and reveals his hard cock for you.

He’s big.

You had gotten yourself off to the thought of him a few of times late at night alone in your bed, most recently a few days ago, and you hated that you had since you were now here like this, forced on your knees in front of him.

Your core is pulsing with heat at the sight of him though – bigger than you had fantasized, and bigger than any man you’ve been with previously. You know he’ll fill you in a way that will ruin you for other men. You want and dread it.

“Take me in your mouth, sweetheart,” he commands.

Instead of forcing his cock into your mouth, this is more possessive, having you submit yourself to pleasing him of your own accord. You know every way he’s manipulating you.

“If I have to tell you one more time,” he trails off, leaving the end open for your imagination.

You plant one hand softly on his hip and wrap your other hand around his shaft, leaning forward to take him in your mouth. As you push forward, he groans. He won’t hold back when he’s pleased with you – he never has, he knows it affects you. His hands go to either side of your head. “Eyes on me, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, sucking him, bobbing up and down his length, and for a while he lets you control the speed and the depth, but his hands let you know he can and will control this when he wants to. After the first couple of minutes, he makes this clear when you push back to take a breath and wipe the mix of your spit and his pre-cum dripping out of your mouth and his hands firmly prevent you from moving off him. Instead, he pushes you down slowly – more slowly than you had been pumping – and doesn’t stop until your nose hits his lower abdomen. You try to push against his hips, and he pushes his hips forward with you still anchored on his dick. Your eyes well up.

“So pretty,” he says, “imagined you like this, but you’re more gorgeous than I thought you would be.”

Something in your chest melts. You wish he wouldn’t say things like that. It makes you weaker – weaker for him. He pulls back just an inch or two, then pushes his length into your throat again.

“That’s it, sweetheart, my perfect fucking girl.”

You whimper, and the tears spill over.

His right hand moves away from your face and around behind him. He’s quick, and when you can see his hand again, it’s to discover he’s taken his phone out of his back pocket. He takes photos of you, angling the phone a few different ways. Then he tosses the phone onto the chair where he’d laid his shirt.

Then he resumes his small, concentrated rutting, only easing out just enough to make the thrust back in worth it for him. As he does, he groans, swears, wipes tears from your cheeks, and the moment before it’s too much, he finally pulls you off him.

You fall forward, gasping for deep lungfuls of air, but he’s already putting a hand under your arm and hauling you up.

“Get on the bed,” he instructs, man handling you with surprising ease, doing most of the work your weak and aching legs can’t do to hoist you up onto his Alaskan king bed.

He’s immediately up as well and behind you, the last of his clothing stripped off. His fingers quickly undo the clasp of your bra and pull it off your shoulders and toss it away. He pushes you forward, toppling you down to the mattress. He slaps your ass, and you gasp and jerk. He brings his hand down on your round flesh again, with another sting, but the second one has you moan, and he lets out a satisfied, “Yes,” before giving you a third slap, the hardest, and you moan again, but this one more guttural, and you’d be mortified if you weren’t shocked over the way it translated to pleasure so quickly to your brain.

Then he yanks the lacy underwear roughly down and off your legs, tossing it away as well. He pushes between your legs behind you, splitting your legs open, and his fingers seek your cunt.

He hums in approval, “So wet for me. Ready for me.”

You huff and pant.

He leans over your back, pressing you down into the mattress. “Are you eager for me?”

“Andy,” you whine.

“Say it and I’ll fuck you good, sweetheart.”

You don’t want to. You bury your face in the covers.

He slaps your ass again, and you yelp.

“Admit you want me to fuck you.”

Another slap.

Another.

“Yes,” you finally concede.

“To breed you.”

You gasp, but he’s already hauling you further up the bed, and he drapes himself over your back, arms caging you in on either side of your body. His legs push yours apart as he leans down to press kisses over your shoulder blades, at the base of your neck, along your spine. He uses one hand to guide the thick head of his cock to your leaking entrance. He doesn’t care to stretch you. “Take me in your cunt, sweetheart, it’s mine.”

The only mercy is that he slots himself in slowly.

You press your hands up against the headboard and concentrate on taking deep breaths, on trying to relax your walls completely, because he’s entering you, in you, filling you, unrelenting invasion and it’s pleasure and pain and too much and not enough because every moment of more fullness is exquisite and you can’t even think about holding back the sound he’s pushing out from your diaphragm, up your throat, and out of your mouth, because that’s how it feels as he's filling you.

Once’s he’s fully inside of you, he presses his mouth right next to your ear. “I’m going to fill this pussy with my seed.” He anchors one hand on your hips, then begins pull out, only so he can start thrusting back in. “I want everyone to know who you belong to.”

You’ve never had an orgasm only from vaginal penetration, but the way he fills you as he fucks you, and at this angle, making you almost forget to keep breathing, you wonder if this is how you’ll go, strung out as his cock punishes you with the pleasure, but then his hand works around beneath you and his fingers quickly find your swollen and aching clit. You cry out, and one of your hands reaches back to cling to him, fingers clutching into his hair. He nips at your neck, chuckling darkly.

“My pretty girl, my good girl, taking my cock so well, you close?”

An immediate, “Uh huh,” is all you can manage.

“Then let go,” he commands, pinching your clit harshly.

You see stars, and you cry out for him.

Hearing you scream his name and feeling you clench around him is all he needs, and he pumps his cum into you, saying more dirty, filthy, possessive things, but you don’t know what the words are, because you’re completely lost to coherency.

He sinks his full weight on top of you when he’s completely spent.

Both of you are silent while you come down, heartrates returning to normal.

You wait for him to say whatever he’s going to torment you with next, but he doesn’t speak.

After more long moments, he finally pushes up enough to turn you from your front to your back. He cups your jaw again and strokes his thumb over your cheek. Your breath hitches at the intimate gesture in the aftermath.

“Aw, why are you crying now, sweetheart?”

No, you didn’t want more tears, and not these - the soft tears. You try to look away, but he forces your face back to look at him.

“I would have slept with you if you’d asked, Andy, why did you have to do it like this?”

“Because this is so much more than that, sweetheart. I didn’t want to just sleep with you, and I needed you to know from here on out that you’re mine. I own you. I’m very particular about what belongs to me. I didn’t want you to have any illusion that there’s a choice here.”

He brushes the tears off your cheek.

“I’ll have my men move your things here in the morning, and we’ll elope in a few weeks. I’m closing the deal on a resort in Lake Como, doesn’t that sound perfect? We’ll tie the knot and then spend our honeymoon there – we can stay all summer if you want.”

You hesitate.

“No one else is gonna take care of you like I do. Now I asked you, ‘doesn’t that sound perfect?’”

“Yes, Andy,” you whisper.

“Of course, it does.” He finally kisses you – and it’s dangerously soft. Warm lips engulfing yours, insistent, sucking your bottom lip between his. You whimper, and he licks his tongue into your mouth, lapping you up. He rolls over with you, putting him back on the mattress with you on his chest. He holds you pressed to him with one hand, the other hand securing your head so you can’t escape his kiss until he’s done kissing you.

It isn’t until you think you might pass out from how breathless you are that he finally breaks off the kiss. He shifts his pelvis up against you, his cock hardening again. “And I was serious about you carrying my child. But first you’ll ride my face until I’ve made you cry for a good reason, and then I’ll fill you up with more of my seed. You’re not leaving this bed the rest of the weekend.”

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

ARE YOU OKAY? AM I? DO WE EVEN CARE IF WE'RE OKAY?

read: -> THE MORNING AFTER

[vivalabunbun]

Do I Meet Your Qualifications Now?

Summary: A promise made long ago resurfaces during a night of drinks with colleagues. 

Word Count: 8.2k (now this is the longest fic I’ve ever written)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18), NSFW, MDNI, Modern AU, Childhood Friends AU, Office au? kinda, Mutual Pinning, Fluff, slight dubcon, slight angst, mentions of office sexual harassment, creepy boss, mentions of marriage, slight yandere!alhaitham, slight mentions of breeding maybe? Jealously, possessive!alhaitham, you enjoy drinks at a tavern with the sumeru boys.  

Authors note: This is my first smut in a long long time, I just thought about how alhaitham’s bottled up emotions will one day bubble over, inspired by a small ramble of mine lol. Enjoy. 

side note: here is a small continuation after this story

You needed a drink, something strong enough to forget about your growing workload that your paycheck no longer justified. With each new stack of paperwork that reached your desk, the resignation form became increasingly more appealing. You were drained by the time you clocked out at 6 pm, after having to attend 4 meetings throughout the day, all of which could have been a simple email. 

“No no, this company has good 401K matching, paid time off, and dental included. 401K and dental, 401K and dental.” You chanted to yourself, trying to steel your resolve against throwing your two weeks' notice in the face of your manager who has been pushing more and more of his work onto you. 

All while having the gall to be flirty. As if that ugly gold band wasn’t visible on his finger. Your cheeks hurt after having to hold your business professional smile for the past eight hours. The moment you stepped foot beyond those sliding glass doors, massaging your sore face with one hand. 

‘It should be happy hour now, better get a spot at the bar now,’ you thought as you took off your stiff blazer. 

You swore one day you’ll catch a cold from constantly subjecting your body to the dramatic shift of your tundra of an office to the sauna that was Sumeru’s climate. Ugh, stupid professional dress code, and stupid you for deciding to wear your new heels today. The back of your ankles felt raw despite the thin layer of your stockings reducing some of the chafing.

As the saying goes, thank god it was Friday, even though you couldn’t take a half day like so many of your co-workers, you were just glad to finally be out of sight from your manager with wandering eyes. 

Pushing in the wooden doors to the tavern, you were quickly engulfed in the busy hustle and bustling of servers delivering rounds of glasses to rowdy tables and the hearty drunk laughter of flushed faces. 

‘Damn, it’s this crowded already.’ You felt your shoulders drop, ‘should I just pick up some wine on the way home then?’ Another sad weekend spent in your stuffy apartment, great. 

Just as you were about to turn on your heels, you spotted a familiar flash of blond hair. Was that Kaveh? You squinted your eyes to focus on that spot of blond through the wave of patrons. 

“HA! I’m telling you there is no way that shrewd man got his position without some sort of shady dealing. I bet he’s got some dirt on some higher-ups.” 

Yep, that was definitely Kaveh, you immediately recognized that dramatic shrill in his voice. You heard it many times during your college days together, increasingly so whenever he had an architecture final due. He was at a large table, there seemed to be plenty of room for one more person. Swiftly, you made your way through the crowd to tap the blond man on the shoulder, disrupting him mid-rant. 

“Kaveh? Oh my god, it is you. It’s been so long. How’ve you been?” You feigned surprise. 

“Oh? Oh!” His eyes lit up with recognition. “My college savior! How’ve you been? Come, sit down and drink with us!” 

Score, you’ve successfully secured a seat at the tavern. Thus, you avoided wallowing in self-pity alone on your beaten couch. You meet eyes with two unfamiliar faces, the trio seemed to have been setting up a game of cards before you joined, or before Kaveh began to rant about whatever he rants about. 

After a quick round of introductions and placing your order for a glass of sweet wine, you were quickly acclimated to their conversation. Tighnari was a part of the research and development team, while Cyno was the head of company security ensuring no classified information gets leaked to competitors. Kaveh, you already knew was the star of the architecture design department. 

It felt nice being able to relieve stress about redundant company policies and gossip, or at the very least it was entertaining to hear Kaveh whine nonstop about them. 

“Ah, I still just don’t understand how that man got the position of head secretary. I swear he has it out for me, he refused to process my request for approval because ‘it was outside of his working hours’ and because of that my project got delayed a whole week! There is no way he climbed the ranks with that work ethic!” 

You did not even have to ask who the subject of Kaveh’s dismay was, it was quite obvious to the 3 of you at the table. 

“Just because I can manage a healthy work-life balance, does not mean my work ethic is mediocre. My work hours are clearly posted outside of my office, it seems that literacy has decreased.” A husky voice rang out from just behind your chair. 

You felt a slight shiver run up your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps along its journey. He was here, the main antagonist in Kaveh’s rants has finally shown his face. 

“Oh, ‘Haitham? It’s rare to see you come out of your shell of books.” You looked over your shoulder at the towering man as he loosened his tie. Scooting a bit closer to Cyno, making more room for him to sit at the last seat. 

“It is a surprise to see you here as well, did Kaveh drag you out to play a game of cards… or perhaps did he want you to foot his tab.” Alhaitham gave the blond man a slight side-eye before returning his attention back to you. 

“Hey! I can hear you!”

“It was intentional, couldn’t you tell?” 

“You-”

You let out a light giggle from behind your wine glass, noticing the sliver-haired man’s eyes turning back towards you. 

“Did you want to sample a bit of the wine? It’s sweet.” You offered your glass to him, hoping he didn’t notice the slight shiver when his long fingers brushed against yours as he accepted it. You tried to keep your face as polite as possible, not allowing your eyes to wander down along his neck as he took a sip. 

“Not bad,” he placed your glass back down in front of you. “Boss, this is good wine. I would have the same, please.” He turned his large body slightly as he called out to the tavern owner. 

Allowing you to see just how well that button-down shirt fitted his form, the top button seemed to be holding on with all its strength. 

“I thought we were all grown enough to not be entertained by mindless gossip,” Alhaitham remarked towards the table. 

“Not at all, we were just curious about the raising star of the company,” Tighnari commented. 

“There’s nothing special to talk about, I just arrive and do the task I have to before I clock out.” 

“It’s a bit odd for a man that lacks ambition to land such a high role within a year.” Cyno followed up, his eyes holding a hint of suspicion. 

“ It’s really nothing complicated. I’ve even rejected some promotions, the work of a secretary is simple, that’s why I wish to keep things this way.” 

“Ah, he’s humble-bragging now.” You hear the tan man beside you mutter as he crossed his arms. 

You also couldn’t help but feel the sting of jealousy as well. While you were proud of your childhood friend having success in his carrier, he advanced much faster than you even though you got a two-year head start. 

“Ugh, how did you stand this egomaniac for so long.” Kaveh harshly set his glass down, directing the question at you. 

Seeing this as an opportunity to tone your childhood friend down a few, you couldn’t help the slight grin that spread across your face. 

“Well, he’s always been this way,” you swirled your glass, “I guess I just got used to it.” 

“Makes sense, attitudes like his tend to develop at tender ages.” Tighnari vouched. 

“He was so cute when he was younger. This man used to pull on my sleeve and beg me to read Aristotle to him.” You stole a quick glance over your wine glass. 

“Oh? You two go that far back?” Cyno inquired. 

You hummed in confirmation as you took another sip, “I guess it’s partially my fault for not correcting him back then. But he used to have the chubbiest cheeks, I couldn’t help but be swayed. Who would’ve known that once that cuteness faded, all that’s left is a mulish man.” 

You heard Alhaitham tsk in annoyance at your jabs, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his seat. 

“Clinging onto the past will serve no benefit towards the future. Frankly, it’s a foolish thought.” 

You hid the sting in your heart with a teasing smile, hoping that it reached your eyes as well. He was right, the past was gone and over with, with little to no bearings on the future. The same stood with your relationship, childhood friends, and nothing more. 

Alhaitham had the looks, the stellar career, and was already a homeowner while being four years your junior. Even with your head start on life, it felt as if you were constantly behind him, trying to catch up. You knew one day he’ll leave you in the dust, so it is for the best that you let go of this one-sided crush. 

“Oh? Then I guess I’m released from that childhood pact then. How freeing.” You let out a slight laugh before taking a larger sip of your wine. You should probably order another glass, maybe two actually. 

The stoic man raised an eyebrow at your statement, “and what do you mean by that.”

“Aw, it looks like little ‘Haitham forgot,” you pouted. However, you could not let this opportunity to tease him slip away. 

Setting down your glass, you turned to face everyone gesturing a hand toward Alhaitham. “You see, when we were still children. He walked up to me with a flower and asked me to marry him when we grew up.” 

Instantly piquing the attention of everyone at the table. 

“Pfft, there’s no way that happened.” Kaveh let out a hearty laugh, waving his hand as if dismissing that notion. 

“Best believe it, he ignored me for a week when I told him no. Only ‘forgiving’ me after I gave him extra sweets and promised to think about it again in the future.” You supported your face with one hand. 

“So I guess you are to blame for his apatheticness? Traumatizing him so young? I’m starting to sympathize with you, Alhaitham” Tighnari scoffed. 

“Well, I apologize for my shallow taste when I was a child. I used to dream of being carried off into the sunset in a white dress by my groom.” You dramatically sighed. 

You mockingly patted Alhaitham’s arm, feeling the solid muscle hidden beneath the fabric tense up then relax at your sudden skinship. 

“Before he became an absolute tree, this guy used to be half my size and weight. Which is why I rejected him back then, I didn’t want to crush my groom to death at our wedding.” 

Just what were your intentions when you brought up that childhood memory? Alhaitham was racking his mind, trying to pinpoint a motive, too distracted to be bothered by the snickering that permeated throughout the table. 

Your hand, which still lingered on his arm, brought pulses of heat along his skin, the hair at the nape of his neck pricking up from the sensation. 

“On the topic of marriage, have you gotten any luck so far? Found anyone special yet?” Kaveh tucked his hands under his chin, as he rested his elbows on the crowded table. 

“Ugh, Kaveh, stop you sound like my fucking mother.” You brought your hand up to your temple. Alhaitham’s skin immediately craved your touch again. 

“I’m taking that as a ‘no’ then.”

“Obviously, gosh, every time I go to visit my parents it turns into an interrogation of why I didn’t come back with a ring on my finger.” You took another swig of your wine. 

“Is that so?” Kaveh prodded, wanting the conversation to continue. 

“Honestly, at this rate, I won’t be marrying for love. I’ll be marrying to shut my parents up.” 

“Oh? And what would a husband candidate need? To be able to carry you off to the honeymoon?” 

“Har har har, Kaveh, very clever.” 

“Okay, now seriously.” 

“Well, obviously he needs to get along with my parents.” 

Just earlier this evening Alhaitham had responded to a message from your mother, telling him how thrilled they were to receive his housewarming gift basket. Your mother wishing that more young people were as considerate as he was towards his elders. 

“And I would prefer someone attentive.” 

Alhaitham did not even have to think when ordering coffee for you. A mocha with two shots of expresso, oat milk, and an extra drizzle of chocolate syrup. When it gets closer to the holidays, you liked to add one pump of peppermint syrup.

He also takes note of how your words tend to get more graphic once there's alcohol in your veins. 

“What about income, you want a man with 6 figures? 7?” 

“Ha, if my husband made 7 figures I’d run him a warm bath with rose petals, the house will be spotless, and have dinner set on the table at 7 o’clock sharp. A girl can dream, it would also mean I won’t have to see that ugly bastard’s face again.”

Roses were nice. However, lavender was much better for baths to relax the muscles. After 3 years Alhaitham was confident that he could renegotiate his salary. He knew that your organization skills violently oscillates between an absolute disaster to professional house cleaning service depending on how stressed you were. Your cooking though was always guaranteed to be delectable, 7 pm just so happened to be his preferred time for dinner. 

Pause, wait a moment-

“Huh? Is your manager still bothering you? Isn’t he already married? What a sleazebag.” 

“Tell me about it,” you were rubbing your temples more aggressively. “I’ve thought about staking my pen through his hand if he tried to place it on my shoulder again.” 

“Would you like me to file a report to HR?” Cyno looked over at you with concern and sincerity. 

“Thank you, but I’ve already tried. They said until there was hard evidence of such behavior they can’t move on with an investigation.”

“Ugh, it’s always HR protecting the top dogs once again. Seriously, I’m not even from the same department but even I can feel that slimy gaze of his whenever he looks at you. Makes me want to burn my skin off in the shower, how you withstand that is beyond me.” Kaveh, rested one over his chair, dramatically making a face to show his disgust. 

Your manager, yes, it’s been noted on several performance reports that his productivity has been on the decline. Perhaps, an additional report from Alhaitham about the suspicious disappearance of funds under your manager’s supervision would warrant a full-scale investigation. 

That fool had his wife listed as his emergency contact, the ashen-haired man wondered if he would detail her husband’s harassment of young women in his department to her. 

“Let’s move on to a different subject, shall we? I’d be damned if my Friday night is ruined by thoughts of that man.” You rubbed your thumb along the stem of your glass, a nervous habit of yours he noted. 

And with that, the drinking continued to pour, as Cyno and Kaveh began a round of cards. If you weren’t so distracted by Kaveh’s theatrical whines of how Cyno should take an easy on him, you would’ve seen the look that promised no good on Alhaitham’s face. Its true intentions are well hidden behind a stoic face. 

“You would think he would have learned his limit by now.” Alhaitham couldn’t help but scoff at his housemate. 

The blond was absolutely hammered, slurring his words as if they were some encrypted message. Upon seeing the state that Kaveh was in, everyone unanimously agreed to call it a night. Cyno and Tighnari supported him as Alhaitham went to the edge of a sidewalk to hail a cab. 

“Are you not going to ride in the same taxi as Kaveh? You’re both going to the same destination no?” You inquired, looking up at him after he gave the directions to his house and cash for the trip. 

“And what, get puked on during the ride? Kaveh is a big boy now, I’m sure he’ll manage. Besides…” His teal eyes quickly trailed up your legs.

Your stockings accentuating the shape of your legs as they beckoned his attention towards that pencil skirt with a cheeky leg slit. Not revealing enough to be chastised as unprofessional, but oh so tempting. 

“It’s more important that I see you get home safely. Now, come.” He turned his back towards you, heading in the direction of your apartment. Not wanting to be caught staring at you. 

Throughout the walk the two of you were silent, but it was a calm silence that can only develop from a place of comfort and familiarity. The clicking of your heels and the taps of his dress shoes filled the air between you and him like a metronome. Alhaitham made sure to remind himself to match his pace with yours, lest his longer legs pull him far ahead of you. 

--

Finally arriving at the entrance of your apartment complex, you swiped your keycard to unlock the heavy security door. Perhaps it was because of the alcohol in your system but it took all of your body weight to pry the metal door ajar. You felt a small hand on your back, stopping your pitiful attempt. 

“You’re going to strain your back, here, allow me.” Alhaitham’s voice was so close to your ear that you sore the vibrations tickled it. 

Stepping aside, you allowed Alhaitham to grasp onto the side of the door as he swung the door open as if it weighed nothing. He took hold of the handle, meeting your eyes as he gestured you to enter. You felt a bit stupid for struggling so much with the door in front of him, so you quickly shuffled inside as he followed right behind you. Strolling through the lobby you finally arrived at the shiny doors of the elevator. 

“Well, I guess this is goodnight.” You looked up at Alhaitham as you pressed the call button. 

You heard the ding of the elevator arriving… only for the doors to not open.

 You pressed the button again, it dinged again, and again… then the light of the elevator flickered out. Great, just your luck, the elevator decided to break down now of all times. Further embarrassing you in front of Alhaitham. Even though his face remains stoic as ever, he probably thinks your place is shabby. 

“Ha ha, what a way to end a night. I guess I’ll be taking the stairs… You should call a cab to get back now.” You cringed a bit on the inside, why did you sound so awkward? 

The stairwell door creaked open with all the grace of nails dragging down a chalkboard, the noise almost causing a headache to form as you begin your ascension up the gray stairs. 

Only for your 6 flight journey to be halted at the second step as you stumbled. Once again, those new heels you were so excited to wear decided to rear their nasty face. Luckily, you were able to catch yourself on the solid hand railing. Sighing to yourself, you prepared to clutch onto it like a lifeline for the rest of your trek. 

Suddenly your body felt weightless as two solid arms hoisted you up, and you felt your figure way too close to a warm, built frame. 

“W-what are you doing??” Your hands were flailing as you did not know where to place them. 

“Quiet, it’s past midnight and your voice is bouncing off the walls. Do you want a noise complaint?”

“That wasn’t my question! Haitham put me down I can walk!!”

“Oh really? Did you seriously not notice how many times you’ve been tripping and stumbling on your way back? It’s safer for me to just carry you, unless you prefer tumbling down the stairs.” 

“N-no! I-” 

Alhaitham seems to be ignoring your plight as your slaps on his shoulder and arms elicited no reaction. His firm grip on your body did not let up as he effortlessly ascended the stairs, even shifting your weight a bit when he went to open the door to your floor. 

You were stone-cold sober at this point but your face was hot and flushed when Alhaitham finally placed you back down on your own feet at your apartment door. 

You couldn’t muster up the courage to thank him let alone even look at him, in case he sees the obvious red tint on your cheeks. Keys fumbling in your hands as you tried to line it with the keyhole, a small click and turn of the brass knob has your apartment ajar. 

What do you do now? Is this the final goodbye for tonight? Should you take a cold shower to purge these overwhelming emotions? 

“Um… would you like to come inside for a glass of water?” You spoke those words before you could think it through. Great, you just prolonged your suffering, great job. 

“Sure.” And much to your dismay Alhaitham agreed. 

His teal eyes lazily observed the plush throw pillows on your sofa along with the soft blanket hastily thrown over the back of it. Alhaitham could hear you bustling in the kitchen as you prepared a glass of ice water for him. 

In stark contrast to his own walls, yours was crowded with many photos like a timeline of your life. A soft smile tugged at his lips as he observed a photo strip taped onto the side of your college graduation portrait.

It was a cheap strip of laminated plastic from some mall photo booth, but your smile was radiant as you had one hand squeezing his face trying to get the stone-faced boy to crack a smile. 

“Here, it’s on the house.” You clinked the frosty glass onto the coaster in front of him. 

He felt the sofa dip a bit more as you plopped your body on the other side, letting out a content sigh, probably finally being able to feel your feet again. He knew those heels caused you great discomfort, but he almost wished for another glimpse. 

“Thank you.” 

Once more a comfortable silence encased the air between the two of you. Somewhere along the line, your hand found its way to his gray locks, gently running your fingers along his scalp. 

“What shampoo do you use, ‘Haitham? Your hair is always so soft and voluminous. I’m kinda jealous.” He heard the amused quip in your voice. 

He both yearned and despised whenever you pet his head. As your fingers continued to rake through his ash hair he couldn’t help the rush of blood that flowed south. Yet, a pang of annoyance was felt in his chest. ‘You still thought of him as a kid’ was the message he decrypted from your actions. 

“Whichever brand is closest to me at the store. Or whichever bottles Kaveh left in the shower.” Alhaitham leaned a bit more into your touch.

“Tsk, of course.” He could hear the smile in your voice. 

There was no end benefit to be gained from his feelings towards you. In fact, his life would’ve been so much easier if only his brain didn’t release dopamine the moment he hears the slightest mention of you. 

As a person who prides himself on his objectivity and factuality, he could not explain why you were an outlier that skews his rationality. 

The peaceful moment was shattered by the sudden pierce of your ringtone, the name that flashed across the screen caused Alhaitham’s eyes to narrow. 

Manager Kimiya

The manager who has been the source of your frustrations, evident by your conversation back at the bar. Why was he calling you this late? Alhaitham observed the grimace on your face as you quickly retracted your hand from his hair, picking up the phone as you excused yourself back to the kitchen. 

Why were you answering his call? 

You were speaking in a rather hushed voice, even with Alhaitham straining his ears to try and hear just what was so important to warrant a phone call so late at night. 

“Yes, of course…. No… I see… okay… yes… I understand… yes, goodnight to you as well.” 

Before Alhaitham could stop himself, he found his form behind yours at the kitchen counter as you finally ended your call. Frown present at the corners of your lips. 

“Why did he contact you this late?” 

Your body flinched in surprise. Ah, so you did not even notice his presence behind you. As his teal eyes stared down at your smaller frame, he could feel the clawing of a green-eyed monster tugging against the restraints Alhaitham so carefully bounded it in. 

“No reason, just work stuff… mostly.” 

Mostly? Alhaitham pushed down at the monster, trying to bottle the disgusting foreboding envy. 

“Why did you answer?” 

“I just told you, Haitham. It’s for work.” 

Alhaitham’s teeth ground against each other as he clenched his jaw. The monster was thrashing around violently. 

“You didn’t have to answer.” 

Your eyes closed in annoyance as you opened your mouth, a snarky reply ready to be thrown his way. Only for it to be stuck on the tip of your tongue as Alhaitham’s arms grasped the counter at either side of you. Pinning you between the cold granite top and his towering frame. 

“Are you interested in him?” There was a dangerous edge to his low voice. 

“Did you have too much to drink?” You whipped around in disbelief, annoyance dripping from your tone. 

Your face was very close to his, nose almost touching, breaths brushing against each other’s lips. 

“Answer the question.” His voice deepened further, a dark glaze over his eyes. 

“I don’t.” You narrowed your eyes at him, inching your face closer as if to prove a point. 

Alhaitham’s restraint of the beast began to slip. He needed a moment to grasp back onto it, to regain control. No, he could not wait any more, not one second longer.

 It was as if all the past decade's worth of pinning that kept him up at night came rushing out. Bursting through the walls that Alhaitham spent years building to contain them. 

It all rushed out in a messy, heated, and disgusting wave that washed over him and drowned his rationality as he slammed his lips into yours. Capturing the soft flesh into an all-consuming kiss. It was ugly, yet it felt so beautiful. So all consumingly beautiful. 

Your brain was trying its best to regain itself as you recovered from the whiplash, you were kissing Alhaitham. His larger frame pushes your body up against the kitchen counter, cold stone pressing up against your burning skin. His tongue brushed against your lips hungrily, asking out of courtesy for permission. Your lips parted, allowing him access as your fingers tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck. 

It was almost animalistic the way he devoured the air from your lungs, your head began to float as pleasure trailed up your spine. You harshly tugged at his ashen hair to break the near-airtight lock your lips were tangled in. 

Barely getting two much-needed breaths in as your eyes connected with lustful teal before lips clashed once more. You tasted the sweet wine that still lingered on his tongue, the sweet taste of crossing a dangerous line. 

Alhaitham released your lips then dived back into trail kisses from your glistening lips to down your face and neck. A pleased whimper escaped as you titled your head to the side, allowing him more access to your sensitive spots. 

You now had two arms thrown around his neck, back arching as his large hands began to rub your thigh over the thin fabric of your stockings. The heat from his palms and the friction creeping up to your core. You felt the suction of his mouth against your neck causing you to press your chest more into his as you whined. 

Two hands firmly gripped onto each of your legs then harshly parted them, allowing for Alhaitham’s solid torso to press up against your pulsing core. You couldn’t help the slight roll of your hips against his abs, your poor cunt begging for a crumb of attention.

The air was too hot, tension too thick, Your skirt now all bunched up as his fingers skillfully unbuttoned your shirt. You replicated his actions as you clumsily groped at his chest to locate the buttons of the dress shirt, your senses graced by the plushness of his pectorals. 

It was animalistic the way Alhaitham was claiming your skin with his kisses, every now and then marking the tender flesh of your breast and neck. ‘Fuck, how can simple kisses feel so good’ was the thought running through your hazy mind, pressing his head more against you. A hardness making itself known against your neglected wetness. Excitement spiking up inside you. 

“Wrap your legs around me.” He commanded. 

You obediently did so, locking your ankles together behind his back, intentionally rubbing your cunt against his trapped erection. Alhaitham straightened his posture as he scooted your bottom off the counter, large hands digging into the flesh of your ass then firmly squashing your core against hardness. 

The sudden movement causes you to let out a gasp. He shot you a look, warning that he did not have the patience to be teased. 

Effortlessly he carried you into the bedroom, kisses still desperately being exchanged the entire time. Tossing you onto your messy sheets, he took a moment to admire how absolutely wrecked you looked. Cheeks flushed red, lips glossy from mixed saliva, eyes teary yet burning with desire. If you looked like this from simple kisses, he couldn’t wait for what you’d look like during the main event.

With you now on your back, more vulnerable, it gave him the opportunity to finally strip the blouse off your body, exposing more of your skin. Feeling a tug at his shirt. 

“You too…” 

When you asked so shyly with those pouty lips, how could Alhaitham refuse? A silent game began, as for every piece of clothing one shed, the other would follow. Your bra, his belt, your skirt, and his slacks were now littered across your floor. Hands greedily groping at each other's flesh, a large hand cupping your breast as your hand dipped to rub his bulge through his boxers. 

“Excited?” Your confidence was boosted when you felt a small wet patch on the fabric. 

“You’re one to talk.” He scoffed. 

Hand releasing your breast to grope the contour of your pussy through your ruined panties. Harshly pressing against your eager clit, a moan tumbled out of your mouth. Alhaitham dropped his head right next to yours, baritone voice against your ear,

“See, you even soaked through your stockings. Just how wet are you?” 

Long fingers began to trace along the slit of your cunt, lazily rubbing a circle on your clit before tracing back down. Your legs wanted to clamp down on his cruel hand but with his body pinning you down it was impossible. The message was clear, you were at his mercy. 

“What do you want?” 

A simple question he asked you, but your pride would not let you answer. That bastard knows what you want, your cunt was practically sobbing for something to be buried deep in it. But he still continued his slow, torturous movement, eyes locked on your expression. You faced away from him, unable to handle the intense glaze on your flushed face. 

“Eyes on me.” His other hand squished your cheeks as he turned your face back. 

Teal and orange eyes piercing into yours, you wanted to protest, he was being so mean. His perfect face only had a slight flush, while you were certain yours was a mess. Alhaitham must have sensed this as he nudged his thumb into your mouth, letting it rest against your pink tongue. 

“Come now, use your words. What do you want?” 

Pride be damned, the burning sensation between your legs overtook your reasoning as his other hand was now harshly circling your sensitive bud. 

“Y-you.” You moaned around his thumb. 

A smug look was now plastered on his handsome face, you weren’t sure if you wanted to slap it or pull him into another kiss. 

“Good girl.” Looping his fingers into the waistband of your stockings, harshly tugging them down the length of your legs. 

He definitely ripped them, but your brain was too busy processing the words he just called. 

Shifting your body more onto the bed, he pried your legs open, giving him a direct view of your drenched panties. Snapping back into reality and suddenly now worried about your modesty you reached a hand down as if to shield your desire from his observant eyes. A quick slap to your hand echoed through the room. 

“It’s a bit late to be embarrassed now.” The same hand pushed the ruined fabric to the side before a long, thick finger was thrusted inside. 

Your head jerked back at the sudden intrusion, barely being able to bite back a moan. Your aching cunt now had a taste of what it craved so desperately, but now it only craved more. Something thicker, longer, heavier. It wanted more even as Alhaitham slipped another finger in with minimal resistance. Scissoring the digits inside of you, exploring deep inside as slick drooled out. 

You tried to suppress your moans by biting down on the thumb that still lingered in your mouth. He sucked a breath through his teeth at your actions. 

“Be nice.” He ordered, tearing his thumb out of your mouth at the same time as his fingers from your cunt. 

His two fingers coated in your juices were then shoved into your gaping mouth, giving you a taste of yourself. Wordlessly you maneuvered your tongue against his fingers, cleaning the slick from the thick digits. His cock twitched when he felt you welcome his fingers deeper into the gummy walls of your mouth.

Alhaitham wanted to play with you more, to tease your clit and pussy until it was swollen and soaking the sheets below. However, right now, he did not have the patience as the length in his boxers raged angrily. Perhaps, if his plan goes well he can save that desire for another time. 

He chuckled to himself, this is what you do to him, you turn him into a man so consumed by lust he would not even stretch you out with good foreplay. Your cunt felt wet enough, he could see how drops of slickness were trailing onto the sheets, you were ready for him. Finally releasing his member out of its confinement, he let out a small hiss that the feeling of his sensitive head rubbing along your slick folds. 

“Wait,” you got up on your elbow as another hand pressed against his toro, halting his movement. 

You swiftly reached over to your nightstand, digging through to find the box of condoms. You took a foil package out, turning back to Alhaitham you handed it to him. You did your best not to look at his member, but it was hard to when it was just that intimidating. On lonely nights, there were times you imagined what that tall, buff body hid beneath the layers. 

‘Would the condom even go over it?’ you wondered as Alhaitham stiffly ripped open the foil. Fortunately, the condom was able to encase his length, you patted yourself on the back for getting the variety pack. 

“Heh,” Alhaitham’s hands grasped the sides of your hips. “You were prepared.” 

It could’ve been your imagination, but his calm tone felt forced. Almost as if he was angry, but Alhaitham never got angry at you. 

“What’s the ma- AH!”

The concern died in your throat when the entirety of his length was thrusted into you. Your cunt clenching around him, not wanting to let go of the deep satisfaction of finally being full. Alhaitham let a quiet moan through his clenched teeth, pulling out halfway then snapping his hips back into yours.

Your hands desperately latched onto your sheets, twisting and pulling the fabric to try and ground yourself. The stretch had you stumbling over your words, never had you felt this full.  He felt so heavy inside of you, deliciously dragging against your quivering walls.  

Alhaitham followed the intrusion with a few slow thrusts, the squelch of your cunt welcoming his length sounded through the heavy air. The grip on your hips turned unyielding as his pace shifted, his hips settling on a punishing pace against your poor masochistic cunt. Moans leaving your lips without regard for your neighbors. 

“Were you expecting this tonight?” He ended his sentence with an especially deep thrust. 

You barely heard him over the wet slapping of skin, mind focused on how good it felt when his tip rammed into that one spot. Alhaitham noticed how your cunt contracted when he hit a particular place, quickly angling his hips to strike your weakness again, then again, and again. Each time he did you would let out a cry, tongue lulling out of your mouth. At this point, his fingers are for sure leaving purple marks. 

“Is that why you were at the bar?” He continued. 

The green-eyed monster clawed its way up inside him, if he had not gone to the bar earlier by chance, would you have shown this sinful face to someone else?

A voice at the back of his mind called for him to take you lovingly, to slow his pace, to caress your face with his hands and kisses. But the voice of the beast whispered in his ear to ruin you, use you to further his own pleasure, to pound the shape of his length into you. Yes, perhaps if he did that then no other man could ever satisfy you. 

“So, who did you plan to take home?” 

He thrusted his tip deeper, you swore it was hitting your cervix now. Breast bouncing along with his violent pace. A thumb dug into your swollen clit suddenly causing you to throw your head back as your mind came dangerously close to the edge of sanity. A delicious tension begins to form in your core.

“Answer. The. Question.” Each word was followed by a harsh thrust, as your bud was pinched between his two fingers. 

“Ah- ah!” Was the only reply you could muster. 

Alhaitham stilled his motion deep inside of you, heavy, thick member resting right up against your cervix. Fingers now cruelly rolling your abused clit in its grasp, making your toes curl and back arch. 

He could feel your walls convulsing around him, begging for more of his punishing thrusts, not wanting the tension to dissipate. But he didn’t want to give that to you, not until you give him what he wanted. 

“Who. Who are you thinking of? Are you imagining being pinned down like this by them?” 

Your lust-hazed eyes looked into his with confusion, brain barely able to string together a coherent thought to process his question. As if he asked you the most elaborate philosophical question. 

Even with your mind nearly liquefied by the heat of pleasure and vision blurred from tears, the self-loathing in his eyes was obvious. Releasing the sheets from your iron grip, you cupped his face as you pulled him into a soft kiss. The first of the night. 

“Y-you ah!” You moaned against his lips. 

His hand stilled for a moment, then quickly regained its pace rolling the bundle of nerves. His lips chased after yours, shallowing your moans as he pinned your body more into the mattress. 

“Say it, confirm it.” A trail connecting your lips as he pulled away. 

“Alh-ah! Alhaitham!” 

A switch was flipped as his hips sprang back into motion, the push and pull rocking the bed as your hands found refuge on his broad shoulders. The tension only grew in your core with every blow against your weak spot in tandem with the circles he was grinding into your bud. 

“Alhaitham! A-ah Alhai-yes, right there!” Shamelessly moaning out his name like you did on those desperate nights with your own fingers. 

Your toes were curling painfully from the pleasure currently engulfing your entire body, your cunt full and hair a mess. Arching your body more into his solid figure as his unforgiving pace continued to abuse your grateful walls.

The wet slooshing of your slick as your hole welcomed his member over and over again no longer embarrassed. You were growing close, the ball of tension in your core was so close to snapping, you wanted sweet release so badly. 

“P-please! Ah! Please!” You begged for him to let you fall into cloud nine. 

Quickly understanding your plead, Alhaitham continued his the motion of his hips, making sure to strike that spot with more force as his thumb rubbed your clit faster. He dipped his head down to kiss along the edge of your tear stained face. The sensation of his teeth sinking into your neck was the catalysis that finally pushed you off the edge. 

Your body pressed itself taught against his, walls clamping down like a vise around his member as the orgasm ripped through your body. Strangled moans against his ears as your vision turned white. 

He removed his thumb from your clit, now even redder and swollen, as he bit more into your neck, the sensation of your walls trying to milk him dry almost brought him over as well. However, he couldn’t let it end so fast, not when he had fantasized about this moment for years. 

He forced himself to drag himself out against the tight grip of your walls, then used his body weight to thrust back into you to continue with his rhythm. He felt his own release approaching as he stared at how your eyes were rolled to the back of your head. 

‘Would you notice if I were to rip the condom off?’ He wondered as you were still on cloud nine, but your body still responding to his moves. 

‘Would you even care? Would you want it too?’ The thought of painting your walls in white and watching as your cunt drank up his thick cum filled him with a dark desire. 

He wanted to fill you with his essence, to claim you as fully his from the inside out, to steep into every fiber of your being. His hands found purchase on your hips again as he pinned your frame below him, thrusting deeper than he had ever before into you as he spilled himself into the latex.

His body shook against yours as he panted from the exertion. 

The creaking of the bed stopped as Alhaitham pulled back to press sweet kisses to your temple, coaxing your consciousness back to reality. Using his fingers to wipe away the tears that still leaked from your eyes, as your pupils came back into view. Returning from their trip at the back of your head. There was a moment of stillness, as pants echoed through the air, breaths overlapping and caressing another. 

You felt him shift, pulling his length fully out from your gummy walls. Your cunt clentched at the sudden emptiness. You watched as he grabbed a few tissues from your night stand, then proceeded to roll the filled condom off, disposing it into the paper. 

You shut your eyes, chest still heaving at the exertion you had just put your body through. 

The sound of condoms shaking against their cardboard box made your eyes snap back open. As you watched the ashen haired man shamelessly pull another foil package out of the container. 

Oh… The night was still young. 

--

The bright and pitched chirping of the birds outside stirred you from your slumber. Oh god, your hips were so sore, you questioned whether or not you would make it out of bed. 

Two arms firmly encompassed your waist, pressing your back against the warm source of the pain in your hip. 

As much as you hated to admit it, Alhaitham looked angelic when he was asleep. Usual stone face now relaxed and soft, the sunlight drawing blurred shapes along his skin and hair through your curtains. 

You wanted to brush the hair out of his peaceful face, fingers reaching out then freezing as the reality of last night hit you. 

You two had crossed the bold line that was drawn in the sand, now standing the cold ocean of the unknown. The questions of what your relationship had turned into violently crashed into you like unforgiving waves as you feel yourself beginning to drown in self-doubt. 

Was this a one-time thing? A closeness you will never experience with him ever again? Was this the final chapter of the story of you and Alhaitham? Did you ruin years of trust and friendship?

 The questions began to become overwhelming, you needed to get up, to just get somewhere to clear your mind. 

Slowly your tried to shimmy yourself out of his firm hold, carefully trying not to rouse him from his slumber. Only for your plan to come crashing down as his arms tightened around you, halting your motion. 

“Stay.” An uncharacteristic softness present in his tone. 

You stilled your body, heart pounding so hard against your chest you were certain Alhaitham could feel it too. Just like how you could feel the rhythmic beating of his against your back. 

His deep breaths brushed against your neck as he buried his face into the crook. Tension now hung in the air, but who was going to be the first to break it? Mustering up all the courage you could gather, 

“Alhaith-”

“I found you a nuisance when I was first introduced to you.” He began. 

You felt your heart sink at his confession, but he continued. 

“The way you dragged me out to play, fed me snacks, and especially when you pet my head. I found it all annoying… It was annoying because it would cause me heart palpitations, my breath would hitch, and my face would flush. I thought I had caught a sickness from you, a sickness that made me addicted to your presence.” 

Your heart was now jumping as if it wanted to burst from your chest, he buried his face deeper into your neck. 

“Then one day I read a book that detailed my exact symptoms. Do you know what the diagnosis was? Love - an intense, deep affection for another person. That day when I proposed with that small weed, I discovered that I was in love with you.” 

You froze, almost not believing your own ears. 

“Well of course back then I did not meet your qualifications. I hoped that the sickness would disappear. No actually, I used to pray to gods I don’t believe in that they would take you out of my head, where you always seemed to haunt . They must have cursed me because as time moved on, my illness just got worse. It began to border on mania, madness. So, please listen.” 

He turned your body in his arms so that you were staring right into his eyes, a hopeful and sincere glimmer present in the saturated teal.  

“I love you, I adore you, I wish to wake up every morning to you in my arms just like this. I want to walk through life hand in hand with you. Your parents hold me in high regard. I will get a mocha with two shots of expresso, oat milk, and extra chocolate syrup every morning for you, I can even learn to make it. If you are worried about finances, if this company doesn’t agree to my raise by the end of two years I will search for another position that will.” 

His fingers intertwined with yours as he brought your knuckles up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. 

“And I am confident in my ability to carry you no matter what wedding dress you dawn. So do I meet your qualifications now?” 

His teal eyes looked into yours, yearning for your answer. Your eyes were wide and lips frozen. You were waiting to wake up in your messy sheets alone, fully clothed, and for the other side of the bed to be cold. This had to be a dream, this couldn’t be real. 

However, the hot tears that clouded your vision and dripped down your cheeks felt too real to be an illusion. The look of adoration in his eyes was too genuine to be conjured up by your pitiful imagination. 

“Could we… Could we take this slowly?” You whispered, squeezing his hands. 

“Of course. I’ve waited for over sixteen years, I can wait a little longer.” 

You buried your flushed face into his chest, he let your wet tears soak into his skin as he kissed the crown of your head. Embracing each other as if the other could disappear.

“I love you too.” 

--

Fin~

DON’T PLAGIARIZE, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORKS ON DIFFERENT PLATFORMS.

[bellaxgiornata]

If We're Being Honest [1/2]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.8k [Part 2]

Summary: Already having an awful week, you're a bit out of it while at Josie's with your friends, too busy sulking and drinking down your feelings to keep up with conversation. The sight of Matt wandering off with a beautiful woman yet again certainly doesn't help. But when you stay behind by yourself to finish your drink and wallow a bit more, you're surprised when Matt reappears and offers to let you stay the night at his place. Eventually, the night takes a turn you weren't anticipating.

Warnings/Tags: Angst with a happy ending, confession of feelings (with a twist), delayed comfort, anxious/depressed inebriated Reader

a/n: This is a two part little fic with angst in this first half and the comfort y'all want in the second half. I was craving angst and a twist on the typical confession of feelings fic, so here y'all go! Feedback is always appreciated!

Matt Murdock One Shot Tag List: @pazii @shouldbestudying41 @kmc1989 @ebathory997 @mattkinsella @yeonalie @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @wkndwlff @leikelle @pinkratts @lazyxsquirrel @1988-fiend @marvelcinematiquniverse @carstairswife @stilldreaming666 @kiwwia-wiwwia @willwork4dilfs @will-delete-this-later-probably @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @theetherealbloom @yarrystyleeza @dramaholic18 @ladywholikesreading @sleepysleepymom @tartbeanpuzzles @harleycao @sunflower-tia

Absently spinning your bottle of beer on the table with one hand, your eyes were fixed on the little droplets of condensation along the side of it. Your chin rested in the palm of your other hand as you watched one of the droplets begin to snake its way down the side of the brown glass, moving as if it was in slow motion. Outside of the bar, the downpour of summer rain battered against the window to your left.

Foggy’s hand loudly and abruptly slapping the table broke through your daze, causing you to jump in your seat. Eyes flying over towards him beside you, you watched as he let out a boisterous laugh, throwing his head back over his shoulders. Karen and Matt both quickly followed after, breaking into a fit of laughter along with him. Meanwhile you sat in your seat with absolutely no idea what had them laughing so hard because you hadn't been paying attention to the conversation for the past few minutes. 

You'd been having a rough week, both emotionally and mentally, and were currently trying your hardest not to sit and wallow in self-pity tonight–but you weren't doing a great job of that so far. Not only had you received a wedding invitation to your cousin's wedding the other day, but last night Marci had asked you to be a bridesmaid at her and Foggy’s upcoming wedding. Which of course you'd said yes to, ecstatic for your friends to finally be getting married and having an actual date set for their big day. But all of that had made you increasingly aware of your own single-ness this week in particular, especially after Karen had spent the first part of tonight gushing about the new guy she'd been seeing. 

You were happy for your friends, honestly. They were amazing people who deserved nothing but the best. You absolutely couldn't wait for all of the wedding festivities coming up that you'd be celebrating with everyone, either–for Marci and Fog's wedding and your cousin. You even thought the guy Karen was seeing sounded like an actual great catch for her for once. 

But you just couldn't help but feel like there was something wrong with you tonight. It had been far too long since you'd last had a date, and even longer than that since you'd been in a relationship. It didn't help that you certainly didn’t feel like you fit in with this group of friends you’d somehow found yourself a part of for the past almost year now. 

It had been by sheer accident that you’d met Foggy and Karen one morning all those months ago. And it was only because the three of you had had a coffee mishap at a coffee shop near the office where they worked. It was Foggy who’d chased you out of that shop for the drink you'd accidentally grabbed by mistake. Apparently it had been for his law firm partner Matt, who happened to be very particular about his coffee. They needed to be at the courthouse in time for a court case that morning so he didn't have time to get back in line to reorder the coffee. Having not had a chance to drink from the cup in the time you'd managed to grab it and make your way out the door, you'd readily swapped Matt's drink with your actual coffee that Foggy had grabbed. You’d apologized profusely for the mistake, but you'd formed the opinion that his firm partner sounded like an ass to be that particular about his coffee.

And for the next few mornings before work after that, you kept noticing Karen and Foggy at the same coffee shop. The pair of them were always excited to greet you, jokingly dubbing you the ‘coffee thief’ from that moment forward. It wasn’t long before the morning small talk in the line for coffee eventually led to them inviting you out to this little dive bar at Josie’s where you had finally met him .

Matthew Michael Murdock.

As the laughter subsided at the table, your eyes shifted over to Matt as if they were magnetically drawn to him. There was a broad smile stretched wide across his face, displaying his perfect, white teeth. The adorable, lone dimple in his right cheek was visible tonight just beneath the stubble that was a bit darker and thicker than he usually kept it. His dark hair was partially windswept but now finally dry from the rain that had dampened it earlier. Somehow that had just made his hair look messy in a way that seemed intentional. His tie was partially undone, loose around the collar of his light blue dress shirt; and as usual by the time he’d reached Josie’s, his sleeves had been rolled up exactly two times to reveal those muscular forearms of his covered in that smattering of little dark hairs you’d always longed to touch. 

He looked good– so good. But he always did. 

And of course, you were aware that you weren't the only one who ever noticed that.

The tall brunette you’d caught eyeing Matt all night finally appeared just over his shoulder and you released a sigh, already knowing what was coming next. Matt always attracted attention from beautiful women wherever he went because he was handsome and charismatic and sweet. He was impossible to miss in a room full of people. Which was honestly true of Karen, Marci, and Foggy, too. They were all attractive, successful, and exceptionally well-spoken individuals with big personalities that you couldn’t help but be drawn to.

But not you. You stood out like a painting on a hotel wall wherever you went–common, bland, and not remotely out of the ordinary. 

“Excuse me, I'm sorry to interrupt,” the brunette began as she stopped beside the table. Her eyes landed on Matt as she flashed a stunning smile his way. “I couldn't help but keep stealing glances at you all night and I figured I'd finally just say hello.”

Matt turned in his chair towards the woman, a charming smile already prepared on his face for her. “Well I'm flattered,” he told her. “I only wish I could say the same about stealing glances at you in return all night, but well–”

Matt gestured at his red glasses as the woman laughed, the sound itself somehow even perfect and attractive. That dark feeling of jealousy and despair began knotting together, swirling in your gut and mixing with the beers you'd already downed. Movement across the table from you caught your attention and you glanced over, catching the sight of Karen playfully but discreetly rolling her eyes at you and Foggy. Foggy chuckled lightly in response, nodding a little. Your attention returned back to the condensation on your beer bottle, not interested in having a front row seat to watching another one of Matt's hook-ups pan out.

“Would it be alright if I bought you a drink?” you overheard the brunette ask. “I mean, if I'm not interrupting?”

“I can assure you that you’re absolutely not interrupting anything,” Matt told her, already sliding his chair back and rising to his feet. “I think these three have endured my company long enough for this evening anyway, and it isn't often a woman offers to buy me a drink.”

Matt said a quick round of goodbyes to the three of you as that beautiful brunette’s perfect laugh trilled over the sound of the rock music playing on the bar’s speakers. You muttered something back half-heartedly, not even bothering to glance up from your beer. It wasn’t like he’d have noticed anyway.

“Well maybe it’s about that time,” Foggy said, pulling the sleeve of his dress shirt back to check the time on his watch. “Marci had appointments for cake tastings tomorrow morning and I do not want to miss out on that.” 

Across the table, Karen raised her bottle up to her lips, downing the rest of her beer before setting the empty bottle back onto the table. “I might see if Alex wants to stop over tonight, actually,” she told you both. “Since it’s Friday and I don’t need to show up at the office for once on a Saturday morning.”

As both of them began sliding their chairs back, gathering their things from the table, you remained seated. Fingers tapping against the beer bottle, you watched as a droplet of condensation raced another over the curve of the glass. Out of your peripheral, you caught the way both Foggy and Karen’s movements slowed, the two of them exchanging an uncertain look with each other. Then you heard the way Karen said your name softly in question. Eyes shifting upwards, you focused on her on the other side of the table.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked. “You’ve been oddly quiet all night.”

You forced a tired smile onto your face, nodding as you continued to rest your chin in your hand. “I’m fine,” you lied. “Just going to finish my drink before I leave, I think. Been a rough week at work and I just need to relax a little.”

“Do you…want us to stay?” Foggy asked.

You shook your head, releasing the bottle from your grip long enough to wave the pair of them off. “I’m fine drinking by myself, don’t worry about me,” you told him. “Go on. You both have someone to get back to tonight anyway, I’ll be alright.”

Karen hesitated beside the table, her concerned eyes landing back on Foggy still standing next to you. It looked like they were having a silent conversation with each other, but the thought of them staying here to keep you company when you knew there was somewhere they’d rather be–some one who’d they’d rather be with–only made that uncomfortable and sickening feeling of jealousy in your gut worse. 

Forcing that smile back on your face, you sat upright in your chair, ignoring the way the bar around you briefly spun in your vision from the beers you'd drank. Attempting to play the part of being just fine, you hoped that neither of them could see the truth behind the mask you’d thrown on. You just wanted to sulk back for a few minutes and finish your beer while you unhealthily forced yourself to acknowledge the fact that Matt looked far better next to a woman like the one he was currently laughing with at the bar than someone like you. Then you’d go home, throw on your stained and worn pajamas that weren’t remotely sexy, and probably watch a bit of mindless television before going to bed. Alone. Like every other night.

“Alright, well…hopefully you enjoy your drink,” Karen replied hesitantly, still looking uncertain.

“Make sure you call for a ride, too,” Foggy said, pointing a finger at the window beside you. “Still raining cats and dogs out there. You don’t want to step in a poodle–I mean, puddle–on your way home.”

You laughed lightly at his joke, though not as much as you would’ve done any other night. Exchanging goodbyes with both of them afterwards, you sighed in relief when they finally turned and headed towards the exit. Slumping back down in your seat, you focused on the window to your left as you drew your bottle of beer back up to your lips, watching as the rain continued to come down hard. 

Maybe Melissa at work was right. Maybe it was time you tried downloading one of those stupid dating apps, even though the thought of weeding out so many assholes who just wanted sex was the last thing you wanted to do. But maybe it would beat being alone all the time. It wasn’t like you were having any luck trying to meet someone the old fashioned way–in person.

Taking another drink from your beer, your attention returned to Matt's back as he sat at the bar beside the attractive woman. Drinking down a few deep gulps, you wondered what it would be like to ever have his undivided attention like that. To have him throw jokes your way because he was trying to win you over, not because you were just one of his friends. To have his hand linger on your thigh while he spoke to you because he wanted you and he wanted you to know that. Or to have him lean in towards your ear and whisper literally anything to you. 

Swallowing your beer down, you tore your eyes away from the sight of Matt at the bar. He'd never once flirted with you like that, the thought only increasing the lingering pain of jealousy now spreading to your chest, feeling like it was sucking your heart into a blackhole of nothingness. You just weren't good enough were you?

Ducking your head, you tried to hide the emotion on your face even if the only person left at this bar to notice and comment would be Josie herself. Still, you'd rather not be asked to explain why you looked quite so miserable. But it hurt to realize that every single one of your friends had someone else to go home to tonight, and here you were drinking alone. Going home to an empty apartment after.

Figuring it was time you just downed the rest of your drink and headed home, you grabbed your beer and quickly drained the rest of its contents. Maybe being drenched in the summer rain on your walk back home would make you feel something tonight besides the growing ache of loneliness. 

Setting the finished bottle of beer back onto the table, you clumsily pushed your chair back. Rising to your feet, you nearly lost your balance when you slid out of the chair. Your hands darted out, grabbing onto the table to steady yourself for a moment. Maybe you'd drank those beers back faster than you'd realized, clearly a little more buzzed than you'd expected.

“Not a big deal,” you mumbled to yourself, maneuvering around the chair, “I can still manage to walk back inebriated in the rain.”

Slipping your purse from off the back of the chair, you tossed the strap over your head and readjusted it on yourself. Then you pushed the chair forward so as not to trip over it before turning. 

Immediately you stopped when you saw you weren't alone, a surprised gasp coming from you. You would’ve stumbled backwards if it hadn't been for your hand that flew out, grabbing onto the back of the chair you'd just pushed in. Matt was standing at the edge of the table, his cane unfolded and in both of his hands.

“Hey,” he said, his attention clearly fixed on you. “Josie said you were still here by yourself.”

Brows knitting together in confusion at him suddenly appearing over here when he had just been at the bar, you glanced back over to where you'd last seen him. The brunette he'd been talking to had disappeared entirely, no longer sitting on the bar stool. 

“Yeah, I was just…finishing my drink,” you replied, still scanning the bar for the woman. “Weren't you with someone just a minute ago?”

“Well I was,” he answered, “until Josie pointed out how you were sitting here all by yourself after Fog and Karen had already gone home. Had me worried. Are you doing alright?”

Your gaze returned back to him, taking in the look of concern etched across his handsome face. The same look Karen and Foggy had shared tonight. 

“I'm fine,” you said, repeating the same lie. 

Matt's head tilted curiously to the side, a mannerism of his that you always found adorable. Except for right now, because it felt like he was analyzing what you'd said far more closely than your other friends had.

“If you're heading out, I can call you a car,” Matt suggested. “I can even wait with you if you'd like.”

You shook your head, beginning to make your way past him. “I'm fine, Matt,” you told him. “I was just going to walk back.”

“In the rain?” he asked. “I might be blind but I'm not deaf. It's pouring outside. And you've had quite a few drinks tonight, let me just call you a car. You shouldn’t be walking home in that.”

“Maybe I want to take a walk in the rain,” you countered, coming to a stop beside him. “Something wrong with that? It's just rain.”

His brows drew up onto his forehead behind his glasses as he shifted on his feet. “You really want to walk almost two blocks in the pouring rain right now? Stumbling down the sidewalk alone?” he asked. “You sure about that?”

A frown settled onto your face. When he put it like that, no, you sort of didn't. But you also didn't feel like waiting to grab a cab, either. Especially if it meant waiting with Matt and being the cause of further ruining his evening.

“Alright, how about this,” he continued when you hadn’t answered. “You come back and stay at my place tonight. I think we can both manage a walk around the corner in the rain. I'll let you borrow something dry to sleep in and you can take the bed. That way I won't have to worry if you made it home alright and you can still have your walk in the rain.”

As his offer made its way past the alcoholic fog in your brain, your body stiffened. Had Matt really just invited you to stay the night at his place? Because he was worried about you getting home? And he'd walked away from what was clearly going to be an obvious hook-up? For you ?

You could feel your heart beating a little faster in your chest as all these things gradually began to register in your mind. Why would he do that? He’d never invited you to stay at his place before.

“I–” you began.

You could barely find the words to reply, your brain too muddled by the alcohol to think clearly. Was this just an invitation as a friend, or was it something more? 

“Is that a yes?” he questioned. “Because it sounds like the rain has eased up a bit, now would be the perfect time to head out before it downpours again.”

Slowly you nodded, the ‘yes’ coming out of you before you even realized you’d agreed. Because could you really pass up the chance to stay over at Matt’s place? You knew you’d always be left wondering what might’ve happened if you didn’t go. 

His hand extended out towards you, the movement drawing your gaze downwards. It hovered there in the space between both of your bodies, your eyes lingering on it. 

“Should we go then?” he asked.

Swallowing hard, you hesitantly reached your hand out, slipping it with uncertainty into his. But when his fingers curled around your hand in return, you realized that’s what he’d been silently asking. For you to hold his hand as you walked back with him in the rain.

“Probably will make it easier to keep either of us from tripping,” he told you, turning the pair of you around in the bar until you were both facing the exit. “Though I suppose now if one of us falls down, we both do.”

His head turned towards you, a cheeky grin on his mouth directed solely at you. You could feel the way your heart skipped in your chest at the sight, the cold, miserable feeling that you’d been experiencing all night easing its way out of you just a little. 

“So, do you care to lead the way or…?”

Snapping out of your daze staring at him–something you were grateful he couldn’t see–you quickly nodded. “Right, sorry,” you muttered, beginning to lead the pair of you towards the door.

The moment you’d led the pair of you out of Josie’s and out from beneath the little overhang at the entrance, the warm rain had already begun to soak your hair and your clothes. It had felt good though, especially with Matt’s warm, calloused hand wrapped around yours. As you sidestepped a puddle, you found yourself surprised at the unexpected turn that your evening had taken. Though there was still something on your mind and your inebriated brain just couldn’t resist finding out the answer as the pair of you neared the corner of the block.

“So…how much did I ruin your night tonight?” you asked Matt cautiously.

He glanced over his shoulder towards you, his cane tapping along the sidewalk and occasionally splashing up water each time it hit a puddle. Your bottom lip rolled back between your teeth as you began nervously gnawing on it, afraid of his answer.

“You didn’t ruin my night,” he replied easily. “Though I’ve been a bit worried about you. You’ve been quieter more than usual tonight. Is something on your mind?”

Yeah, you , you thought.

But of course, you couldn’t say that aloud.

You shrugged, your gaze dropping to the pavement ahead of you. “Just feeling a little down on myself, I guess,” you muttered. 

Hearing the words aloud had you cringing as you walked. You hadn't exactly meant to be honest and tell him that. 

“Feeling down on yourself about what, exactly?” he asked.

The pair of you rounded the corner, your blouse already drenched and sticking to your skin. Glancing up at Matt from beneath your lashes beside you, you couldn't help but notice the way his dress shirt was soaked and clinging to his muscular torso. It was physically painful how attractive he was. 

“It's stupid,” you mumbled, focusing back down on the pavement. 

Matt's hand squeezed yours, your heart practically slamming into your ribcage in shock at the gesture. You hoped he didn't notice the way your palm was gradually beginning to dampen with nervous sweat.

“Tell me what's on your mind,” he urged. “You know I won't judge you.”

The pair of you were quickly approaching Matt's apartment building as his words hung in the air between you. It was true though, in all your time knowing Matt he'd never once been mean to you. Never once had he made you feel bad about yourself. If anything he'd always been sweet and supportive, which only made you like him that much more. You sighed, and then suddenly you felt your drunk thoughts spilling out of your mouth faster than you could stop them. 

“I feel like I'm not good enough,” you confessed, the words spewing from you. “I haven't had a date in a long time. And then there's Marci and Fog who're getting married soon–and that's great. They're perfect for each other. And Karen, well, she might usually have poor luck with men, but she gets dates left and right. And she's gorgeous and smart so I get it. And then you–” you continued, wincing at the memory of him next to that brunette at Josie’s, his hand on her thigh, “–you could have a new fling for every night of the week in this damn city. But me?” You roughly shook your head, a tear managing to slip out of your eye and camouflaging itself with the drops of rain on your cheeks. “No one looks twice at me. I'm not special and I'm certainly not Karen or Marci. I don't even remember the last time a guy showed up to my place with flowers. It's been a long time since someone actually asked me on a date. And–”

You stopped short, your brain finally catching up and realizing all the things you'd just said aloud. You sucked in a breath as the wave of embarrassment hit you, your mouth promptly closing. How could you have possibly just admitted all that to Matt of all people?

“You know that's not true, right?” Matt said gently, his hand once again squeezing yours. “I'm sure plenty of guys have given you second or third looks. You're an incredibly smart and talented woman and you're being far too hard on yourself.”

You scoffed loudly, rolling your eyes as heat burned at your cheeks. But at the sound of your disbelief, Matt's hand gave a sharp pull on yours, drawing you both to a stop in front of his building. 

“Hey,” he said, tugging your hand and pulling you towards himself. “You should stop thinking about yourself like that. Stop being so critical of yourself. You're so much more than you give yourself credit for.”

Hearing his kind words, you couldn't bear to look him in the face. Feeling awkward, your gaze fixed down on your wet dress flats. “Easy for you to say,” you muttered, the alcohol once more loosening your tongue, “because you're successful and don't remotely have an issue attracting the opposite sex. It's not like that for the rest of us.”

Matt said your name firmly, the tone of his voice practically commanding you to focus back on him. His expression was serious despite the red glasses he wore obscuring his eyes, making it impossible to see the entirety of his face. His hair was soaked and clinging to his head from the rain, a few droplets streaming down his handsome face as he fixed his attention solely on you. Your hands instantly began to grow clammier under his undivided attention and you hoped he thought it was just from the rain.

“You're an amazing person and some lucky guy is going to come and sweep you off your feet,” he told you. “You'll find him, I can assure you of that.”

As you gazed back at him on the sidewalk, the rain still falling over the pair of you, your buzzed brain tried to understand if there was something else hidden in Matt's words, some other thing that he was trying to tell you. Because just like he'd never invited you to stay at his place, he'd never said anything like that to you before. He'd certainly never looked at you like he currently was before, either. 

“Please try to be kinder to yourself,” Matt nearly begged. “Okay?”

Unsure what to make of his behavior tonight, you nodded slightly. “Okay,” you agreed quietly.

He smiled back at you, the sight nearly knocking you off your feet. It was quickly becoming far too difficult to just stand here trying to look at him as only a friend. And it was getting harder and harder to keep your mouth from blurting out how you felt with that stunning smile on his perfect mouth. Thankfully he continued on towards the entrance of his building, breaking you from your thoughts and leading you into the small lobby and over towards the elevators.

The entire way up to Matt's apartment had been silent after that. You were too busy trying to analyze everything he had been doing and saying tonight to even remotely think of conversation. Because it was supposed to have been that pretty woman at the bar coming up to his apartment tonight, not you. Yet here you were, still holding Matt's hand as he led you down the hallway to his place.

And while this certainly wasn't the first time you'd been here before, it was the first time you'd been here alone at night with him. The thought of staying here overnight in his bed still had your insides buzzing along with the beer you'd downed this evening. 

Was there something more you were missing? Every step closer to his apartment had you feeling like there was.

Matt eventually pulled you to a stop in front of his door, fishing his keys from out of his dress pant pockets. You watched in silence as he unlocked the door, your nerves only growing as you stood there. 

“You can come on in,” Matt told you, swinging his door open and gesturing for you to step inside. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you hesitantly stepped forward and made your way past Matt into the apartment. Your shoulder gently and accidentally brushed against his damp chest as you tried to squeeze past him. Immediately you wrapped your arms over your chest, feeling your heart beat a little harder from the brief touch. His chest was so incredibly solid, you'd never understood how he was so in shape.

Glancing down as you paused in his entryway, you noticed the damp patch you were making on his floor as he shut and locked the door behind you. 

“I'm sorry, I'm dripping water everywhere,” you told Matt. “Do you have a towel or something?”

“How about I grab some dry clothes for you to change into,” he replied, slipping out of his dress shoes. “Then we can worry about the mess we're making.”

As he made his way down the short entryway, you stood awkwardly in place, arms still wrapped around yourself. When Matt reached the end of the little hall, he paused, glancing back at you with a charming smile on his face.

“It's just water, it's fine,” he assured you. “You can come in.”

Slowly you began to make your way into his apartment, cautiously making your way over to the side of his leather couch. Matt once again assured you he would grab some dry clothes for you to change into before disappearing into his bedroom, leaving you alone.

The lights were off in his apartment, but truthfully you didn't even need them. Looking out the window to your right, your eyes landed on the eyesore of a billboard just across the street. It had been awhile since you'd been here at night with your friends and you'd forgotten just how bright it was. Currently it was advertising a nearby hospital, the blue light shining through Matt's windows and coating the room in a navy glow. In a way it was beautiful, but you could absolutely understand why he’d gotten such a great deal on the place. 

“Hopefully these will work,” Matt said.

Tearing your eyes away from the window, your attention returned to Matt as he was leaving his bedroom. But your breath immediately caught in your throat at the unexpected sight of him sauntering his way towards you with some neatly folded clothes in his hands. It felt like you suddenly couldn't breathe as you watched each of his casual steps towards you.

He'd taken his damp shirt off and removed his glasses when he'd gone into his bedroom to grab you some clothes. The sight of which had left you damn near speechless because you'd never seen him shirtless before. It was impossible not to just blankly stare at the sight, taking in all of the defined muscle along his chest along with the girth of his muscular arms. You curiously noted the scars on his chest, but you were too busy trying to control your now violently beating heart at the view before you to think much more of them.

Matthew Murdock looked far too good to actually exist in real life. 

But why hadn't he thrown a shirt on before he'd come out to hand you the clothes? It would’ve taken him barely any time to do so. Had it been intentional that he'd done that? Was it…possible that Matt might’ve been trying to make some sort of move on you tonight? Was that why he’d invited you back here this evening instead of the other woman at the bar?

He stopped just before you, a smile on his face as his eyes fixed somewhere along your chest. You always loved when he took his glasses off around you, but unfortunately it wasn't often. He always seemed far more vulnerable, which was probably why it was a rare sight. But he’d removed them now, and as you watched him, you noticed the faintest twitch to the corner of his eyes. You wondered what that was about as he extended the clothes in his hands out towards you. 

“Here,” he said softly. “Hopefully they're comfortable, but if not, I can always get you a towel to dry off. Though really you can sleep however you're comfortable.” His smile turned cheeky–a smile he didn’t often flash your way–as the corners of his eyes creased. “Not like I can see anything anyway.”

Your fingers tightened around your damp blouse at the implication of his words. Had he just said he didn't care if you slept in nothing? In his bed?

Swallowing hard, your eyes dropped down and focused on the shirt and sweatpants that were neatly folded in his outstretched hands. His clothes. He was offering you his clothes to sleep in. Nervously you unwrapped your arms from over your chest as you took a step towards him, your trembling hands carefully reaching out and accepting the clothing from him.

“Thanks,” you whispered.

Glancing up, you realized how close the pair of you were now standing to each other. Barely any distance was left between you two. Had he even managed to move closer or were you imagining that?

“Of course,” he whispered back.

He was still smiling down at you as you drew the clothes in towards your chest. His head had tilted ever so faintly to the side as you observed him, the heat of his body warming you in your damp clothes. Why hadn’t he moved? Why was he still standing so close? 

A thought struck you as you stood there, your attention turning towards his lips. Was he…wanting to kiss you? No, that couldn’t be it.

…could it?

He had invited you back to his place after all. He’d walked you home with him in the rain hand in hand–which had been his idea. That had been far more intimate than anything the pair of you had ever done before. And now he was letting you stay the night in his bed, offering you his own clothes to change into. Saying such nice things about you. And he was just standing there, gazing down at you in nothing but a pair of damp dress pants because he’d removed his shirt without bothering to put on another one. 

This had to all be intentional, right? He could’ve easily gone home with the brunette from the bar, but he chose you, didn’t he? Maybe what he’d been saying earlier outside the building in the rain had meant something more. Could he have been talking about himself being the guy to come along and sweep you off your feet? Had that been what he’d meant all along?

Hope instantly sparked in your chest at the thought. Everything seemed to make sense, everything seemed to point at the fact that Matt might possibly view you as more than just a friend. So was this your moment then? Your chance to tell Matt how you felt and to hear he felt the same in return? Because he was still just standing there, so close you could kiss him. Why else hadn’t he moved?

Without even thinking–most likely due to the alcohol in your system–you leaned forward and boldly closed the rest of the distance between your mouths. It was a hesitant kiss, your lips ever so gently pressing against Matt’s in an uncertain connection. You couldn’t believe how incredibly soft his were, how warm they felt against your own. Your stomach began somersaulting inside of you because you were kissing Matt. It was everything you’d wanted for almost a year now.

Until he gently but abruptly pulled away from you.

Your eyes fluttered open as you drew back from him, taking in the look of utter confusion on Matt’s face. Panic immediately set in, your hands tightening around the bundle of clothing in your hands. 

“What–what are you doing?” he asked.

“I–I thought–” you stammered, struggling to form a sentence. “Was that–is this not…?”

Matt’s head only tilted further to the side, his dark brows furrowing further together on his forehead until there was a deep crease between them. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your nerves at this point, but you felt on the verge of vomiting now.

What the hell had you just done?

“Did you think I was inviting you here to sleep with you?” he asked in disbelief. He said your name, the sound like a stab to your chest as he shook his head. “I had no intention of that. You’re drunk and you’re my friend. I wanted to make sure you got to somewhere safe tonight. I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you. That’s not–that’s not what I was doing.”

“Oh my God,” you breathed out, taking a step back from him. “Oh my God, I thought that–that you…”

Your words trailed off, eyes growing wide as the urge to bolt quickly took over you. You could feel the sting of tears burning in your eyes already, absolutely mortified at what you’d done and how you’d wildly misread the entire situation. How could you have been so incredibly stupid?

“I’m sorry,” you apologized, vision blurring from the tears welling up in your eyes. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have–that wasn’t okay. I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had too much to drink and–and I wasn’t thinking,” you blabbered on. “I absolutely misread things, I just thought that–that maybe you liked me, too and–”

Matt said your name softly, as if he was trying to calm a panicked animal. “You’re my friend,” he told you. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression at all this evening but–”

You practically threw the bundle of clothes back at Matt’s bare chest. His hands flew up, somehow catching them, but the gesture had cut him clean off. That spark of hope that had formed in your chest moments ago quickly sizzled out. A roiling, churning instead grew in your stomach, making you certain that you’d throw up soon if you didn’t get the hell out of here. 

“I need to go,” you blurted.

Turning abruptly, you hurried through Matt’s living room and down the entryway hall. Behind you, you heard him calling your name, but you didn’t dare stop. You couldn’t face him, not after what you’d just idiotically done. Especially not now as the tears were finally falling down your cheeks in hot spurts, embarrassment and rejection both burning inside of you. You just needed to get out of here, needed to get away from this entire horrible situation. You couldn’t believe you’d just gone and kissed him like that.

Your frantic hands fumbled with the lock on his door, but you managed to undo it and wrench it open in a rush. Continuing to ignore him calling after you, you pulled the door shut after yourself before you darted across the hall and straight to the door leading to the stairwell. Throwing it open, you began racing down the stairs as fast as you could, a hand covering your mouth as you tried to muffle your pathetic sobs. Your heart slammed away against your ribcage as the tears began to fall faster down your cheeks. As you descended the stairs, your vision blurred from tears and the alcohol you'd drank, causing you to stumble a few times on your way all the way down to the main floor. 

Ignoring the looks from the few people you sprinted past in the lobby, you headed straight towards the building’s exit. Forcefully pushing the doors open, you made your way back out onto the sidewalk and into the rain. A choked sob slipped past your fingers as you continued to hurry down the pavement and back towards your own apartment, your flats quickly becoming soaked as you stepped through a few puddles, splashing water up onto your dress pants. 

You’d just gone and kissed Matt like an absolute idiot. Of course he’d told you that he only saw you as a friend. Why would Matt ever be interested in someone like you? Someone awkward and average, nothing special. 

You’d absolutely ruined that friendship now, too. There was no way in hell you could ever face him again. You weren’t sure how you were going to survive Marci’s wedding months from now. Maybe if you were lucky you could try to ignore him all day. He’d probably be more than happy to do the same after tonight.

“ Why did I kiss him?” you lamented to yourself. “How stupid !”

Your tears continued to fall, mixing with the heavy rain drops pelting your cheeks as you rushed back to your place. All you wanted to do was get up to your apartment and crawl beneath the blankets in your bed and hide. You just wanted to forget this entire nightmare of an evening. There was no way to salvage what you’d done, to take it back. 

You should have never gone out tonight.

[hyewka]

boyfriend | c.bg

summary; choi beomgyu is a name that means different things to different people. to you, he's the pest that you can't quite get rid of. he's always around to bother you, embarrass you, all of the above. unfortunately his hatred for you ends up ruining your chances with his best friend, choi soobin. and now all the years of effort you've spent tolerating him dissipates.

you've had enough of his bitchy attitude.

warnings; sub!beomgyu, harddom!reader, degradation like this is mean (as i can get with beomgyu) lol, slight mommy kink, overstim, dacryphilia, nipple play (m receiving), titty sucking, bed humping, attention whore gyu + praise kink, dumbification ?

w.c; 4.3k

a/n; the god of titles..am i right (note sarcasm) this originally had more plot but it took too long to edit so i kept this simple, straight to the action 😭

When you were on your way to the address Soobin had suggested to hangout at, you felt giddy all over. You met the boy a few weeks ago yet you’ve grown attached to him rather quickly—he was a gentleman if you ever knew one.

Though, he did end up ghosting you for a few days. But hey, he just invited you over to his flat! Maybe all those days of him going completely ghost had just been a tactic to keep you on your toes, in which case, he succeeded. Or maybe he was just busy. At least with that thought process, you wouldn’t feel like an idiot for getting so clingy over him. 

And this time, it isn’t under the pretense of a stupid school project either, but an actual, official, one on one hang with Soobin.

The smile on your face as you knock on the door couldn't be any larger even as you internally scold yourself, attempting to fight the way your body naturally responds to the thought of the guy who's been plaguing your thoughts for weeks now. 

He was just too darn cute, everything about him to you was pure, and you couldn’t help but want to bask in the shine he radiates. It really couldn't be helped—the wait on Soobin opening his door being spent on quickly looking over your reflection for the umpteenth time through your phone screen, in hopes of tidying yourself even more.

When it opens though, your smile is with no sort of extraneous effort, wiped, faster than a lightning bolt as you narrow your eyes, a million questions popping in your head.

Before you could say something, the boy in front of you is the one who scoffs, just as surprised at seeing you at his doorstep. "Why are you here?"

You blink twice, then thrice, trying to understand why the hell he— Beomgyu was here. It doesn’t make sense—well, until it did. 

Beomgyu was Soobin’s other half, best friend they call it. It was like the gods purposefully wanted to torture you—they didn’t even make sense together!

Unfortunately for you, you’ve known Beomgyu for an estimate of at least two years so you’ve grown to know what he was like. Beomgyu was this annoying brat who had nothing good to say, Soobin…the complete opposite. He was a romantic, a sweetheart—

This—this was supposed to be a date! 

“I should be asking you that…” through the sharpness of your tone, it was obvious you detested the boy—but you still stood there, with no sign of hatred, your face completely neutral. Which you know pisses him off as his upper lip twitches—he hates you don’t give him the satisfaction of a frown and you know it. 

That’s off your mind rather quickly due to your quick disinterest in his response, trying to get a glimpse of the apartment with the little crack Beomgyu's body had given you access to, your neck craning to look for the boy you came here for in the first place. Unfortunately, Beomgyu obstructs your view, catching onto what you were doing, arms pressing on the doorframe as he clicks his tongue at you, as if to mockingly disapprove of your actions. 

See? He was such a little bitch! He even had the audacity to wear a large grin, as if he just succeeded in his master evil plan.

Still, you push your annoyance down, already exasperated that you had to exchange two interactions with him. “Where’s Soobin?”

“Where’re your pants?” he retorts—a little too proud of his comeback. Your eyes quickly look down at your outfit, which, god how embarrassing. If this wasn’t the date you thought it was going to be, the dress you’re wearing would look absolutely ridiculous.

“Can you—ugh, can you just tell me if Soobin’s here?”

Beomgyu opens his mouth to say something until the person you’ve been meaning to see shows up behind him. Soobin. Again, it’s like you’re under a spell as your eyes turn into one with sparkles in them as if you’ve just been graced by an angel.

You wave your hand at him meekly, your mood taking a complete one eighty. Beomgyu catches that, his smirk faltering, immediately turning behind. You guess he didn’t notice the older boy’s presence.

Soobin’s smile widened at the recognition of you, the darned dimples you loved so much making show. "You made it!"

He ushers Beomgyu to make way for you—the boy rolling his eyes before practically stomping off inside the flat. Beomgyu had issues, and you weren’t going to be the one to unpack them.

You focus on slipping your shoes off until Soobin’s honey-like voice halts your movement temporarily, your smile freezing. “I thought we could game, you know, to get closer as friends. Beomgyu already set it up and everything!” 

His excitement is evident in his tone and god, you want to facepalm yourself—of course. This wasn't a date. He said ‘as friends’, as friends! You weren’t going to huddle up in his bed watching movies, no, you were going to game. You sigh, looking up to give him a smile as if you approve. 

But you don’t. It’s not even one of those moments where you’d realize spending time with someone you like is what ‘truly matters’. 

Because it’s a lot worse than you imagined. First, Beomgyu didn’t only set up the game for you and Soobin, he was joining you and Soobin. Which, great, can it get any less romantic? Second, Beomgyu situated himself conveniently between you and Soobin—so, yes, it can get a lot less romantic. Third, the majority of the time, you sat trying to tug down your short dress, truly a less than fitting dress for an occasion like…this. Due to that, your already lacking gaming skills are affected, which then creates the perfect opportunity for Beomgyu to berate you. How fun.

Under the stress of the game, you reacted pretty negatively to his yelling, your anger bubbling up. Finally, Beomgyu snapped, demanding you to get off the game. You’d agree under normal circumstances but he was pissing you off, so you’re stubborn, not exiting the lobby. 

“Y/N, come on, please?” You almost gasp, looking at Soobin with offense but he doesn’t budge, urging you with his eyes to quit. He’s supposed to be on your side! 

You couldn’t stand this any longer. You throw the controller, which earns another yell from Beomgyu but you don’t care to process it as you pick up your purse, heading out. 

What a bust.

“Baby—Y/N, what’s up with you?” Soobin’s voice is exasperated, hand on your wrist in an attempt to stop you from reaching out to the door knob. You turn around to face him. Fuck, you couldn’t believe him! He can’t be this oblivious can he? “What’s up with me? What’s up with me?” 

“What’s up with you? You ghosted me for four days straight. No calls, no texts. You ignore all my attempts at communication, practically telling me that you don’t want to talk to me anymore then suddenly, lo and behold, you invite me over to your apartment?”

He gulps, eyes fluttering down to the floor. “I-it’s not—”

You interrupt him. “But, what, as friends? I don't get it. Do you not like me or something?" You aren’t typically the type to cry over getting rejected, but it sure as hell felt like you would break at any moment right now—even if he just hesitates for a few seconds. You feel stupid, for liking him so much.

Soobin looks up at you with wide eyes, shaking his head. "No—no it's not that!"

It’s like a switch, how your heart soars from the floor that it metaphorically dropped to. He didn’t not like you. You don't even think to ask more questions on his reasons for treating you like shit and completely dodging your calls after you finished the project—love is blind they say. "Do you like me?" Your voice is small, eyes glinting with a tinge of hope as you study his movement.

Fortunately, it’s not hard to gauge what he means when he nods. 

It was enough for you to smile, pulling him into your body, your back hitting the wall of the narrow hallway, reaching to pull him in a kiss by his nape. You liked this about Soobin, you didn't have to question anything about him because he seemed too innocent. He immediately reciprocated, lips as soft as you imagined, a strawberry lip balm you hadn’t noticed he put on leaving a sweet taste.

Before it could turn into anything more, Soobin subtly pulls away from you, and you can’t control the way your eyes flutter open in the confusion when you pick up on what he’s muttering. “We can’t…fuck, I can’t do this.”

You raise a brow, and suddenly he’s completely detached from your hold, large empty space between the two of you. “Y/N, I…I can’t do this to him—” Your confusion gets worse as you try to keep up—who was him? Unfortunately, you don’t get questions in as Soobin rambles to no end.

“I like you, I really really do but…he’s my best friend! And—and I just can’t go behind his back like this. You’re his girl and…and I should—I’m gonna go…” 

“Soobin…wait—huh?” You try to gather your thoughts as fast as you can to respond but Soobin slips on his shoes, dismissive of you and is already out the door—you couldn’t even ask where the hell he was going, he just leaves.

“You’re still here?” you turn your head at the voice, seeing Beomgyu with the controller in his hand. “Where’s Soobin?” 

You narrow your eyes at the lanky boy, his hair messy, cheap clip-on piercings on his ear..your brain working wires and…it clicks. Soobin’s best friend? Beomgyu. His girl? You weren’t dating anyone, most people knew you were fucking around with Soobin—so, someone lied to him. Lied to him about you dating Beomgyu… of all people.

You sneer, not believing the conclusion you’re about to get to. You walk towards him in strides and he looks at you with wide eyes, stumbling back a little. Accusatorily, your finger pokes at his chest with your first claim. “Are you fucking insane?” 

He’s quick to swat your hand off him, brows furrowed. “The hell? Are you?” 

You can’t help but scoff. Normally, you’d never jump to conclusions in respect to letting the alleged guilty plead their case, but with Beomgyu? You knew how he was—he’d do anything to make you miserable. This wasn’t too far out of his alley. You thought his fixation on annoying the shit out of you was silly at first and you could’ve cared less to respond back, but now? To hell with that!

You poke at his chest again, his feet going backwards the more you push. “Beomgyu, you know what you did.” you seethe, “You told Soobin that we’re fucking… dating? Dating!” A thud sound is the only thing you hear, the controller he was holding dropping on the floor.

His face pales almost comically, eyes widening as his lips parted like he couldn’t believe you found out. Could he be any more obvious? You push him again with your finger pointed at his shoulder, with a lot more force. “What? Did you think your stupid lie wouldn’t find its way back to me?”

“I—I didn’t do that. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You were already fuming, but with his weak denial, you’re sure smoke was cartoonishly seeping out of your ears.

You scoff, turning your head away from the boy for a second to keep your cool. “Don’t piss me off.” your voice low had Beomgyu pathetically cowering rather quickly—it felt like any minute and he’d cry. You take a deep breath in, dropping your hand to your side. “I’ve done absolutely nothing to you Beomgyu. Nothing, nothing! So what’s your reason, huh? For hating me so much?”

His eyes widened once more. “I don’t!” he sputters. “I don’t hate …you. I don’t hate you.”

You furrow your eyebrows, was he fucking with you again? 

“That doesn’t make sense!” you yell, and he flinches, “Are you even hearing yourself? Why else would you spend so much time making fun of me, annoying the fuck out of me, and–and…” The crease of your forehead flatten out slowly as you realize what was happening.

No way. There’s no way.

You corner him, his back hitting a door, eyes down as he feels yours pierce him. "Do you… like me?” it’s the second time you have asked the question today, yet they couldn’t be any more of a difference in tone.

You feel your stomach churn when he doesn’t say anything—not denying anything, still unable to hold eye contact.

“You’re—you’re such a fucking loser!” you yell, throwing your hands up. His face falters, hurt evident on his face. You just want to rip his hair out, he had no right to feel hurt! He was a manchild, still believing that pulling on a girl's ponytail showed that he liked her. "So what? You planned to tell every guy approaching me that you were my boyfriend? Because you were too much of a pussy to make a move?"

Heat rushed to his cheeks, adamantly shaking his head. “No! No I wouldn’t! Even if I made a move you…you would’ve ignored me and, and I—”

“How long have you liked me?" you interrupt his ramble, saying it softly, barely hearable, though the tone of your voice is one of disgust, humiliating to the boy.

"F-for a while! You would've noticed if you weren't so… dumb." he mumbles the last part, still not being man enough to look you in the eye. You’re intrigued that he could still muster up an insult hurled towards you. Fucking bitch.

Suddenly an ugly feeling erupts in your chest—revenge. Make him feel the humiliation you suppressed every time he played a prank on you, talked down on you…

You look down at the boy’s crotch and he noticeably gets flustered, hands going discreetly over his clothed dick. “What are you l-looking at?!” 

Your lips curl before you close the small distance between the two of you, your breasts purposefully pressed against him as you whisper in his ear. “Bet you jerk off this stupid dick of yours thinking about me, fucking whore.”

“N-no…” he says unconvincingly. 

You could feel his breath on your neck—hot and heavy, which spurs you on, slowly moving his hand out of the way for you, after slight resistance, he pathetically lets you. You promptly grab his dick through the restraints of fabric, and he gasps, a whimper following shortly after when you start to slowly palm him. The moment you feel the bulge growing his pants, you halt your movement, removing your hand from his crotch all together. He lets out a strained whimper, hand blindly looking for yours to put it on his clothed dick again, but you cut it short with another whisper, “Show me.”

“H-huh?” he breathes out, still lost on the brief handjob he got from you. You pull your head away from the side of his, facing him, “Show me how you fuck yourself thinking of me."

Beomgyu’s eyes shoot open, processing what you just asked of him.

You reach for the doorknob to the side of Beomgyu and push open the door, to your luck, it was a bedroom. You casually go inside, leaving a frozen Beomgyu in the hallway before he finally follows behind. 

“I’m—I’m not going to do that.” 

You plop down on the singular cushion chair in front of the bed, “Sure you are.” 

“You like me so much don’t you? Or was that just a front?”

It’s funny how quick he is to shake his head, denying your claim. “I do like you!”

You cross your leg over the other, signaling your hand to the bed in front of you. “Go on then, prove it to me.” you can’t help but sneer. Though you would never admit it, your excitement was over the roof.

You like this, you like seeing him so small under your gaze, walking over to his bed with his head down—fringe going over his eyes. It was a sight to see, the boy who’s been nothing but a nuisance to you following your every order like a dog under the mercy of his owner.

“I don’t have all day Beomgyu. I have an exam to study for tonight.”

He’s been sitting on the bed, very hesitant to do anything and it was ruining your mood. “Soobin would’ve been faster.” you mutter, and he catches that, immediately standing up to pull his sweats down to his knees, his boner outlined on his boxers. You’re satisfied, his face already red.

You watch intently, every move, as his poor dick is finally pulled out from the restriction of his underwear. You don’t even get a good look until Beomgyu’s laying on his tummy, raising his hips slightly until it falls again—then again, his pace fastening as he feverishly rutted onto the bed, his cute muffled whimpers against the sheets filling the room.

“Oh my god,”  you clasp a hand over your mouth in an attempt to hide your amusement, “You hump your bed?”

“S-shut up…” he barely says it over his cries, teeth biting down on his lips.

You pout mockingly. ��What if I don’t wanna?”

He looks at you through his tear-stained lashes, hips still moving against his bed, “G-gonna fuck you—” your expression turns grim waiting for him to finish his sentence, “Like a bitch.” 

The audacity of the trembling grin on his face is enough reason for you to reach for your phone from your purse. “What are you doing?” 

You don’t care to respond, pressing the red button—three, two, one, and record. What? You weren’t going to do anything with it, you just wanted to tease him a little bit, get him to feel a little too much shame to bite back.

He seems to catch on to what you were doing pretty quickly, it’s not like you were discreet about it— holding your phone horizontally in front of your face. “Beomie, don’t you feel disgusting for liking your best friend’s crush?” you narrate loud enough for the recording, and he only whimpers, burying his face into the sheets of the bed.

You're surprised he responds. “I l-liked you first—hnng–” his voice is muffled, barely understood through his moans.

“Oh really? Too bad I only fuck good boys like Soobin and not misbehaving ones like Beomie…” you taunt.

“No, no, no!” he cries out, shaking his head uncontrollably, tears staining his cheeks, “Am gonna be a good boy, gonna be a good boy I—” he chokes momentarily on his incoherent sob, hiccuping as hips don’t relent, moving on their own, “I promise, I promise.”

 You stand up from the chair, slowly nearing his feverish figure. 

You’re grateful you decided to get closer, everything was in a lot more detail, his restrained moans magnified to your ears. “Is the little pup crying?” you mock again, making sure to push your phone’s camera in front of his teary face. Which gets the waterfall to run down even faster, he was so so humiliated. 

You grab his hair with one hand and he cries out when you forcefully pull his head back—at least to get a better view. “Pup is drooling so much, aw…” 

He was—light trickles of saliva were seeping from the corner of his lips down to under his cheek. “God, you get like this when thinking of my pussy? Guess I’d have to give it to you huh…"

You almost laugh when he moves his head on his own, nodding profusely like a dumb bitch. “Pathetic.” You let go of his sweaty hair almost in disgust, his head falling onto the mattress with a final exasperated whine, his hips slowing—finally crashing down. 

You tilt your head curiously, before rolling your eyes and taking it upon yourself to turn over his limp body, getting his fucked-out face on camera, and another treat—his dick. White semen was spurting out the poor swollen cock of his, staining his shirt. It was a cute sight, almost too cute you decided that you might actually look over this video back at your dorm.

You gently raise his shirt up to his chest, which was rising then falling, trying to catch his breath. You almost coo at the reveal of his pink nubs, pouting. “Aw, look. Beomie’s nipples are sensitive.” You rub one nipple with your fingertip, getting the boy to flutter his wet lashes open, letting out a sigh of pleasure, his body getting worked up once more. 

It’s a shame you have to turn off your phone, tossing it to the side of the bed, but it was restraining you, the loss of capturing Beomgyu’s moans for a longer period doesn’t linger.

“You like this?” you say, pinching his nipples and he gasps, mouth hanging open, throwing his arms over his forehead as he nods. “Yeah? Wanna see your face.” He shakes his head, and you twist. A shriek comes from him this time, hand still covering half his face.

You click your tongue, disapproval of his noncompliance, and shove your thumb in his watering mouth. Pressing down on his tongue, you meant for it to be a punishment, but like a pervert, he starts sucking on it. You’d never say this to anyone aloud, you’d never admit how you felt your panties uncomfortably sticking to your pussy at the sight of him drooling over your thumb, sucking so earnestly. 

Fortunately, the thumb gets his arms off his face, as his hand reach down. Your eyes trail, and widen seeing that he was jerking off. 

“You're such a whore. Acting all high and mighty but you get off from sucking a thumb?” you mutter lowly, hand still playing with his bud. He shakes his head dumbly, his words muffled and slurred as he tries to rebut. You don’t let him, pressing down his throat, making him gag, tears gathering up in his eyes again.

You pull your thumb out which is now wet with his spit. Your upper lip quirks up at the warmth. “Ugh, disgusting.” you whine, wiping your thumb on the boy's face. It was his spit anyway.

He squirms, still rapidly going up and down on his length as his glossy eyes fixed on yours. His lips tremble before he stutters out, “Am I—am I doing good for y-you?"

Beomgyu was adorable when he chased after your approval, so you couldn’t help but throw him a bone to feed off of. You part his hair, the ones sticking to forehead because of sweat, giving him a small nod. “Doing so good Beomie,” you purr.

That sets him off, his pace quickening. “C-cumming, cumming—” he blabbers, mind hazed as strained moans pour out his mouth, his dick slapping his tummy, coating it with his cum.

You take a quick second to rake your eyes over the boy's state until you conclude the end— the fun is over. Awe. You couldn’t even get yourself off. You reach for your phone, before getting up to the chair you left your purse on. “Clean yourself up. You don't want Soobin finding you like this.” you comment absentmindedly— turning to look at him again is a mistake.

Beomgyu was jerking off his softened dick, for whatever reason. Your eyes widen, panic seeping in your tone. “Beomgyu, what the hell? Stop it! You’re overstimulating yourself!”

He shakes his head, "Want you to call me Beomie." You peer at him, the boy frantically going up and down on his shaft until finally getting his dick hard again, tip swollen red. Poor boy.

His hand rakes up to flick at his nipples, holding eye contact, and you furrow your eyebrows. What was he doing exactly?

It doesn’t take long for you to find out. “W-want you to fuck me, wanna make you feel good.” he slurs, barely breathing through his moans, mouth hung open dumbly.

You could refuse and berate him, you could make fun of him…but truth be told, your pussy sucked into nothingness at the sight of Beomgyu looking like such a mess. “Want me to fuck you?” you ask. Beomgyu is shameless enough to nod profusely. You now know you had to work on your self control because in no time, your panties drop down to the floor, as you waste no time to walk over to Beomgyu and climb on top of him swiftly. Whatever, you could excuse this by saying you were just giving him what he wanted.

Before sinking down on his dick, you spit a few times on your palm, impatiently palming his shaft, coating it with your saliva, earning you a groan from the boy under you. 

You were right about Beomgyu overstimulating himself a little too much because his eyes roll to the back of his head the moment your flush of skin connects. "Can't talk now can you?" you breathe out, fucking yourself with his dick. 

"Hm, you're so pretty like this, using your mouth to shut up," you pull out your breast quickly out of the neckline of your dress, stuffing Beomgyu’s mouth with your nipple. He immediately starts sucking, even as you’re sure he was completely out, "...And suck my tits like a stupid baby."

You gasp when he bites down on your sensitive nipple, and his hips buck forward, your pace getting faster on his dick. Suddenly, you feel his cock pulsate, and warmth shoots up inside of you. 

Well, shit. “Fuck! You stupid pervert, did you just cum inside me? Fuck, so disgusting…” you groan, slapping his bare chest as you yourself attempt to reach your own orgasm, your pussy contracting around his dick.

Finally it crashes down, your chest heaving trying to catch your own breath. You’re a damn second before berating Beomgyu for cumming inside you but he had his eyes half open, mouth separating from your nipple before he gave you a shaky smile—and then just like that, he was out cold.

2nd a/n: lowkey thinking of a part 2 where mc ends up dating soobin but still fucks around with beomgyu from time to time lol just humiliating the fuck out of him bcs hes desperate for some pussy