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miryum · 4 months

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A Green and Silver Ring (Mattheo Riddle x Reader)

An arranged marriage between you and Mattheo, one that might lead to something beautiful

Word Count: 10.3k

I know I haven't posted in a long time but I have a plan trust the process. Also, this is me coming out and saying that I love Mattheo Riddle and he's amazing

Warnings: Swearing, bad and manipulative parenting from both Mattheo and reader’s parents, a lot of misogyny (a bit from Mattheo but he gets better by a lot and it’s not that bad), arguments, Tom isn’t Mattheo’s brother and Tom is a creep, arranged marriage, one bed trope, enemies to lovers, greek mythology reference, talk of kids, needing kids to carry on family lines, and kids. Mistress is the feminine term for master (so reader isn’t Mattheo’s side piece when I refer to her as mistress), old timey talk a bit, reader is a bookworm

From the desk of Ginevra

My dearest friend,

My parents have informed me of your engagement. I was ecstatic, yet surprised, when I heard the news. I was of the assumption that your parents were allowing you to choose your husband as your family line is secure in your brother and his wife. Yet, once I learned who your husband-to-be is, I was trepidatious.

My thoughts are with you, my darling friend, and I pray for you to write to me the moment you get my letter.

I hate to break the news, but you and your fiancé are the talk of high society. Never before have two such families been intertwined. Even I have had to scold my brothers for their gossip. They seem to forget that our families are close friends.

I do not ask why your parents have made such a decision. I know they are intelligent adults and surely must have a motive, but I admit that I am blind in that regard. Your engagement seems sudden and unwarranted to me. When questioned, my mother sighed and said I would understand when I grew older. My mother continues to baffle me. I have borne two children and a third on the way! If I am not mature now, I better gain some knowledge quickly.

Always remember that I am by your side. If you ever need anything, my door is always open to you. I am sure Harry will agree.

I love you, my friend.

Ginny

From the office of Lorenzo

Miss. L/n,

I believe we’ve never been formally introduced. I’m saddened to say that this letter is as formal as we’ll get - at least until your wedding. I am sure you must be taciturn and mercurial as of now. My father has told me much about you and I believe we’ll make excellent friends and confidants in our hectic world.

You’re to be my new half-sister, aren’t you? My relatives and friends are petulant to meet you.

Before any rumours (either about myself or your fiancé) hit your ears, I’ll put a rest to them. Bellatrix, your fiancé’s mother, had an affair with my father. They produced me and in return, I have the privilege of being your fiancé’s half-brother.

Being a bastard child, I’m no stranger to being ostracised and ridiculed. To be blunt, I’m sure that you will be ostracised alongside me and I believe that is one reason we can connect.

For rumours of my half-brother, I simply say this: do not fear him. He relishes in the consternation he places in other people, yet when he heard he was to marry you, I saw panic in his eyes like no other. It seems the tables have turned. He is hesitant to be wed, but you are not the problem. He simply doesn’t want to have the responsibility of another’s life on his. Your fiancé is used to belittling people - not supporting them as a husband should.

Any questions you have about your fiancé and my half-brother (whom in case I didn’t make clear, are one and the same), refer to me without any qualms. I am eager to meet you and hopefully make your transition into the Riddle family smoother.

I am well aware you have also lived your life in the upper echelons of society. But, as I’m sure you know, there are multiple circles in our complicated community. The L/ns, the Weasleys, and the Potters, for example, have grown their fortunes truthfully and innocently. They have earned the respect of their people and those whom they employ. The Riddles, Blacks, and Berkshires, on the other hand, have climbed the ranks in unconventional means and by skipping a few rungs on the ladder. They thrive and make their living on the terror and duress they cause those under them.

I’m looking forward to making your acquaintance.

Lorenzo Berkshire

P.S. I hope I haven’t scared you off.

From the office of L/n

Daughter,

You’ll be pleased to hear the engagement has gone through. Your mother and I met your fiancé last night. He seems like a nice man. He will be able to provide for you. His family is influential.

We will return home late tomorrow evening. You will depart for Riddle Estate in a week. Begin packing.

Your father

From the desk of Ginevra

Y/n,

You worry me with your lack of communication. Usually, you can’t wait to gossip with me. We have such fun at dinners and balls, yet with the most important aspect of yourself, you don’t respond. I’m simply worried, my friend. Are you alright? I can envision you curled in your bed, not letting anyone, even your nursemaid, into your room. Please do not let your impending marriage affect your state of health. It will turn out alright. Everyone I know (even me!) had apprehensions about their marriage. And with everyone I know, it turned out alright.

Misters Sirius and Remus visited Harry and I the day before last. They came to see James and Albus, but I know there was a hidden reason as well. They know of our friendship and came to ask if the rumours are true. As much as my husband adores them, Sirius in particular can be prone to gossip. The pair tittered and tsked when I told them of your fiancé. Sirius wishes to distance himself from his family, and I know he has pre-existing thoughts of the Black family, and by extension, the Riddles.

Sometimes I take a moment to gaze at the family tree upon my drawing room wall. It is full of interconnected lines and squiggles that sometimes, it makes my head hurt! The web of family ties is complicated and if we’re not somehow related already, I know that we will be once your marriage takes place. It seems the Black family spreads its roots into the Weasley family and the Riddle family- the latter of which you’ll soon be synonymous with.

Give yourself some grace. Your fiancé falls far from the tree; I am sure of it.

Please write to me. I need to make sure my closest friend is doing well.

Best wishes,

Ginny

P.S. Hermione wishes to inform you that, from what she’s heard, your Mr. Riddle is quite attractive. I have yet to hear any of the rumours myself, but at least your husband will be pleasing to the eye. Perhaps it will make the marriage more bearable.

***

Mattheo strode leisurely through Riddle Manor. It was one of the many estates his family owned, and it was soon to be officially his. Just as soon as he married the L/n girl.

The manor was spacious, which Mattheo couldn’t help but detest. How was he and a wife supposed to fill this void of empty rooms and dark halls? He knew servants and cooks would move in, but they wouldn’t occupy the dozens of upper rooms that were vacated.

For a brief moment, Mattheo couldn’t help but envision a set of children running around the halls. One of the children would run up to him, shouting, “Papa! Papa!” Mattheo would scoop the child up, grinning, and would carry them to their room. The room would be bright and cheerful, and maybe, just maybe, you would be sitting on a settee, cradling a newborn or helping an older child with their school work.

But for now, the room was dark and uninviting and he had yet to meet his future wife. He had seen a portrait of the L/n family and while they were in lavish, colourful clothing, Mr. and Mrs. L/n seemed cold and stoic - just like his parents. The children, an older son and younger daughter (whom he presumed to be you), seemed kinder and by their body language, Mattheo could tell that the two siblings were close.

Mattheo slowly made his way down the hall. There were three wings of the manor; two were residential and the other was designed for taking guests. The East Wing - in which he and Miss. L/n would stay - was also fit with an office for him. He was expected to take over half of the family business once he got married. The West Wing would remain empty for now, sans for a large library and the furniture in the bedrooms.

The boy knew that his bride was to arrive later that day. She would stay at Riddle Estate until the end of the week. Just three short days before they were to be wed in name. Mattheo would move into Riddle Manor tonight, giving servants time to wipe the dust off of tables, shine the silverware, and fluff the pillows.

Mattheo walked the halls of his new home. His mind was devoid of any thoughts. Perhaps it was simply because he was always numb. Even when he heard of his engagement, Mattheo didn’t make a fuss. He didn’t remember thinking anything. Nothing such as ‘Oh, I can’t wait to meet her!’ or even, ‘I can’t believe mother and father are arranging my marriage! She better be obedient.’

No, Mattheo had thought nothing of the sort. He had spent his childhood quietly observing his father and mother, noticing the amount of fear they could inflict on people just by silence. You didn’t have to be loud and dramatic to be powerful. You simply couldn’t be afraid to follow up on your promises - however deadly they were.

The only question Mattheo had asked when Bellatrix informed him of his engagement was, “and what do we gain from the L/n’s?”

Bellatrix had shot him an callous and apathetic look. “Do not ask questions you needn’t the answers to, boy.”

Mattheo had glowered, but shut his mouth.

As he neared the foyer, Mattheo couldn’t help but think how marriage was a component in all aspects of his life. When he got married to the L/n girl, he would inherit a portion of his father’s estates, company, and wealth. Mattheo chucked to himself. Maybe he should’ve gotten married sooner.

***

“Pray tell, why weren’t you here when she arrived?” Bellatrix snarled as she gripped Mattheo’s arm. Her nails dug into his suit as she dragged him towards the drawing room.

“I was busy,” Mattheo replied harshly. Love was not a thing that came instinctively to his family.

“Doing what? Planning your suidide?” Bellatrix scoffed. “I would march to the Underworld and choke Hades to bring you back.” Mattheo glanced down at his mother, hesitantly surprised. But he knew better than to raise his hopes and dreams. “We need this contract with the L/n’s,” Bellatrix continued and Mattheo’s jaw ticked. Of course. She didn’t love him; she never had. Her son was purely business. He should’ve known better.

“Maybe if you would tell me what the L/n’s provide for us,” Mattheo pulled Bellatrix back before she threw open the door to where you were. “Then I would be more complacent.”

Bellatrix sneered. “You think you’re smart, boy. You think you have everything figured out in that pretty little head of yours. But remember: you’re nothing without the Riddle family name backing you up.” She paused and licked her lips. “But if you must know,” Bellatrix sighed, giving into Mattheo. “The L/n’s just came into some very… lucrative land that we could gain from if you marry Miss. Y/n L/n.”

Mattheo’s eyes flickered to the drawing room door. After a moment, he asked, “is that her name? Y/n?”

Bellatrix stared at him, aghast. “You didn’t bother to learn her name?!” She scoffed. “With a son like you…”

She pushed open the drawing room doors and Mattheo trudged after her, muttering, “at least I know her name now.”

You had been waiting for seven minutes and thirty nine seconds in the drawing room of Riddle Estate, the trackage of time dependent on the old grandfather clock standing ominously in the corner. Its pendulum swung back and forth continuously as its second hand ticked by. Mrs. Riddle had left seven minutes and thirty nine seconds ago to fetch her son.

While the room was perfectly clean, not a speck of dust on even the highest chandelier, it was still a cold and morose room, yet oddly epochal. The wood was the darkest mahogany you had ever seen and the lights cast odd shadows on the dark green wallpaper that had inlays of gold.

Your teacup that you were trying to hold steady was filled with a sad excuse for tea. There was a ring of gold around the mouth of the teacup. On the table beside you, a notch that looked as if someone dug a knife into the surface caught your attention. It was the little things like this that you noticed when you had nothing else to do. Your mind was trying to distract you.

The door then swung open and there stood your fiancé, his stare daring you to oppose him.

“Uh,” you stood, your teacup and saucer still in hand. You quickly placed them on the table, right over the knife nick. “Y/n L/n,” you introduced yourself. You bowed your head in an informal curtsy.

Mattheo’s eyes flickered over your face. “Mattheo Riddle,” he said coldly. His voice was practically velvet. You didn’t mean to look him up and down, but you couldn’t help it. He was to be your husband, after all.

Mattheo’s hair coiled at the end and his eyes were just as dark as his curls. His nose had a scarred cut on it that looked as if it was just beginning to heal. Your fiancés cheekbones were practically sculpted from marble and for a moment, you believed that the gods had simply breathed life into a statue. Did this make you Pygmalion and Mattheo Galatea?

If it weren’t for their lethal eyes and stern posture, perhaps more would be friendly to the Riddles.

Mattheo spoke, “you’re to be my fiancée.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” You had the urge to add ‘sir’ at the end, but you bit your tongue.

Bellatrix hissed something to Mattheo and thrust a small object into his hands. Mattheo rolled his eyes and stalked towards you. “My family ring,” he grumbled. He held out an intricate silver ring with three bands interweaving. A green jewel cut into a thin diamond shape sat steadily in the middle. “It has been in the Riddle family for generations. It’s tradition to pass it down to the wife of the firstborn son. And now that is you…”

He trailed off and handed the ring to you, it laying flat on his palm. You took it from him, trying to minimise contact with Mattheo. You nodded in thanks and slid it into your ring finger.

It seemed too concrete to fathom.

Mattheo stared at the ring on your finger. A muscle jumped in his jaw. “My… wife,” he murmured halfheartedly.

***

Three weeks had passed since the wedding and it was as if you had never gotten married in the first place. Yes, it was unsettling to wake up in a bed that wasn’t your own next to a man that you were supposed to call your own. But other than necessary, Mattheo had hardly uttered a word to you.

In the three weeks you had stayed there, you had seen Mattheo a total of twenty eight times, including mornings and nights when you were forced to sleep in the same bed.

Your mornings, afternoons, and nights were all incredibly boring. You took long meals, pushing your food around. Sometimes you just sat by the window and watched the wind blow bits of grass and dirt past the window. The servants were still extracting the dust between the couch cushions and you tried to stay out of the way, but it only made you feel more isolated.

Mattheo was holed up in his office day in and day out. He had now inherited a large portion of his father’s company and Mattheo was determined to uphold the honour bestowed upon him. He had drafted contracts, sold and bought land, and even hosted a few dinner parties for his associates.

You detested the dinner parties. Thankfully, Mattheo had yet to invite you to one - hell, he had yet to speak to you about the dinner parties. You had learned of the first dinner party when you had wandered downstairs one late evening because you were thirsty. You had stared at the group of strangers, all dressed in elegance, as they stared back at you in your night clothes. Not saying a word, you had sighed and returned upstairs.

You hadn’t been eager for the marriage, but wouldn't it befit Mattheo to show some affection? Or at least acknowledge your presence?

While you had continuously tried to get your husband to open up to you, his answers had been short and venomous.

It had been a long, monotonous day for you. You had returned to the master bedroom about two hours earlier than you normally would have if you were at home.

With the wealth that you came from, the opulence was sure to be evident, but you had underestimated the Riddle family’s prestige. When Mattheo had first shown you your shared bedroom, you had to allow a flicker of surprise break through your facade. The bedroom was larger than any room in your old home and had a large bed in the middle. The lamps on the bedside table were always dimly lit and the design of the room was the same as the rest of the house - dark and bereft of love and care.

Your hair had been brushed enough, but you kept brushing simply for something to do while Mattheo finished up in the bathroom. Mattheo walked out of the ensuite with a towel wrapped around his waist. His curls were plastered to his forehead and a bead of water ran down his sternum.

Your eyes flickered to his figure through the mirror, taking in the dips and curves of Mattheo’s muscles as he silently got ready for bed. You tore your gaze away, berating yourself.

You built up your courage and tried to think of a conversation starter. You commented, “my parents wrote to me today.” After no reply from Mattheo, you continued, “they asked me when we would give them grandchildren.” You set your hairbrush down and stared at Mattheo through the mirror, looking for some sort of reaction.

Mattheo hummed noncommittally and put on some sleep pants. He used his towel to begin drying his hair. “It would be behoove us to produce some heirs,” he spoke. His tone was dismissive, as if children were nothing more than an obligation or duty to fulfil.

“Right,” you muttered, knowing that an uninterested reaction was all you were going to get out of him.

You stood and moved towards the bed. “Goodnight,” you whispered, turning off the bedside lamp and tucking yourself into bed. Mattheo was still putting on his nightclothes and had yet to get into bed.

As you turned off the light and got into bed, Mattheo finished drying himself off and slid into his own pyjamas. He sat down beside you, but didn't bother turning off his own lamp. Instead, he laid against the headboard, reading a book. "Goodnight," he finally mumbled, not even looking at you.

You curled into your blanket. After a moment, you asked quietly, “what book are you reading?”

He looked at you over the top of his book. "None of your business," he replied curtly.

You simply uttered, “okay.”

Mattheo felt an unwanted and unusual feeling root itself deep in his stomach. He scoffed and said sarcastically, "fine. Go ahead and keep asking questions all night long if it amuses you so." He opened his book again and pretended to read.

A longing and lonely pang resonated in your chest at his harsh words. You didn’t respond and instead turned your face into your pillow. You had known that your marriage was to be loveless, but it still hurt at every unspoken word. Perhaps, if you had been five years younger when you married Mattheo, your spirit would still be alive with the juvenile belief that you could stand up to him.

Mattheo huffed and his gaze turned up to stare at the wall ahead of him. “If you’re so miserable, then why don’t you just leave?” he snapped, not even bothering to hide his bitterness. “I am sure your family would simply love to have you back.” He flipped another page in his book, not even bothering to look at the printed words.

“I never said I was miserable,” you answered quietly, even though Mattheo knew it wasn’t true. Perhaps, though, you believed it to be true. You took a steadying breath, closing your eyes.

Your husband smirked and leaned against the headboard. “What do you call your attitude, then? Why are you so downtrodden and defeated? Surely, you can’t blame me for being frustrated by it.” He knew that he should be taking account of making you feel this way, but he still tried to justify his behaviour.

“Goodnight,” you reiterated.

Mattheo sighed dramatically. “Whatever,” he grunted. He closed his book, threw it on the nightstand, and turned off his lamp. The room was encased in darkness except for the dim moonlight coming through the window. He shifted towards the edge of the bed, making sure a noticeable gap was between the two of you.

He thought back to your conversation. “Why don’t you just leave?”

It was too late now to apologise.

***

Mattheo let the door swing shut behind him, returning to Riddle Manor after an outing with friends. He glanced around, waiting for a servant to take his coat, but no one answered. An eyebrow cocked, Mattheo slowly walked up the stairs, hearing you instruct the servants on something, every other sentence of yours either containing, ‘please’ or ‘thank you’. Up on the landing, he found you directing a servant who was pulling a rack of your clothing. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. “Have you lost your damn mind? Are you trying to send a message or something?”

“You’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no interest in me, so I’m trying to make this marriage as civilised as possible,” you said diplomatically. “I believe that if I move to the West Wing and leave you in the East Wing, it will benefit our marriage.”

“What exactly do you hope to accomplish with this piteous attempt at attention?” he asked rhetorically. “Do you think it’ll make me want you more?” He stuck his tongue in his cheek, grinning incredulously. “You’re delusional if you think that’s even remotely possible.” He stepped closer to you, towering over you with anger in his eyes. “This is not some game, L/n. This is marriage. You’re stuck with me whether you like it or not.”

“I’m aware that we’re married, Riddle,” you retorted. “And don’t refer to me by L/n anymore. I am now a Riddle - just like you. However, I am not going to live in a state of constant sorrow and dejection. Having a wing of the mansion to myself may help.”

Mattheo’s jaw tightened as he stared at you, irritated by your resistance. “Fine,” he growled. “But don’t expect me to come running after you when you decide you want attention. You’re on your own now.” He turned away from you and walked into his now solo bedroom. “Just remember - this is your choice.”

You felt your anger inflate. “I thought you would like this!” Your voice rose and you tugged a hand through your hair. It was the first time in your marriage that you had fought back. “I have done everything I can to please you, yet nothing is enough for you!” Your voice turned desperate. “What do you want from me?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning around with surprise and disgust on his face. “Dammit, Y/n! Don’t yell at me like that!” His voice thundered, stepping towards you. “I never asked for any of this! I didn’t ask for a wife or for you to try so hard to please me! All of this is ridiculous.” His hand slashed through the air to make a point. “All I want is some space. Space to figure out what the hell I want. But let’s make one thing clear: I don’t care about you.”

“Am I not giving you space?” Your fists clenched at your sides. “I am moving out of the bedroom and out of your way. Yet, you erupt at me and get angry over nothing! You send me mixed messages and I don’t know what to do.”

Mattheo took a breath, trying to regain control over his emotions. “I am not erupting! Lord, you are so sensitive!” he snapped, running a hand over his face. “Can’t you listen for once? I am not sending you mixed signals. I am trying to figure out my place in this unorthodox situation we’re in.”

After a beat of silence, you asked firmly, “did you talk about me?” After seeing a flicker of confusion on his face, you clarified, “when you were out with your friends, did you talk about me? Did you rant about how annoying I was? Did you complain about marriage?”

His lips parted before taking a breath. “Yes, I talked about you,” he admitted begrudgingly. “I complained about how frustrating I find you and how frustrated I am with my parents for arranging this senseless marriage.”

“What did they say?” you insisted. “Did they sympathise? Did they laugh at me? Did they add fuel to your fire by commenting about how… how ‘needy’ and ‘sensitive’ I am?”

Mattheo made a low sound in his chest and rubbed his temples, frustrated by your persistence. “They agreed with me, yes. A few believed that you are too emotionally attached and sentimental. Others chalked it up to the pains of an average marriage.”

Your anger flared up and you said, “Let me tell you this: I never wanted marriage either. But I at least tried. I tried to be a nice and loving wife and a kind human.” You turned on your heel, marching out of the bedroom and towards the West Wing.

Mattheo watched you go, an unwanted feeling of guilt washing over him. He sighed and walked over to the window. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “Why is everything so damn complicated?”

For the next couple of weeks, you stayed true to your word. You avoided Mattheo and his office and stayed in your wing of the mansion. After a week or two, you decided to explore the mansion, stumbling upon a magnificent library. You inhaled in veneration when someone cleared their throat. Mattheo stood behind you, raising an brow. After a silence, you said recalcitrantly, “you never told me that Riddle Manor had a library.”

He smirked at your thinly veiled hatred, amused despite himself. “Well, now you know,” he said dryly. “It’s a perk of living in a Riddle household.” He walked over to a bookshelf and began browsing for a book he required for a contract that was being drafting. He showed no sign of embarrassment or discomfort at your presence. “You may use it whenever you want. But don’t expect me to join a book club or anything juvenile.”

“I would never dream of it,” you said sarcastically. You step further into the library and can’t help but gape at the vastness. You trailed your fingers over the book spines, breathing in the smell of old books. You crouched down to examine a series of poetry titles. “I can read any of these?” you asked hesitantly.

He nodded and leaned against the shelf behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. “Feel free to read whatever you would like. They’re here for the entire household. Well, the servants don’t have time to read books, so in a Riddle household, the parents and children use the library the most.” Your hand faltered over the titles. “If you find something that catches your eye, go ahead and take it. I won’t stop you.” There was a hint of curiosity in his voice, as if he wished to know what topics and books piqued your interest. You hummed quietly, not fully acknowledging his words. You were already picking up a book and leafing through it. Mattheo watched you for a moment, his eyes softening briefly.

Everyday, you returned to the library. It was an escape from the walls of your room and the walls that Mattheo had put up around his heart.

Eventually, the servants recognised your routine and began to start a fire in the fireplace to keep you warm. They moved a loveseat in front of the fire that you gratefully used. You devoured the poetry collection, including Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe, and started on the classics. Every once in a while, Mattheo would come into the library, but he wouldn’t talk. He simply took a book and returned to his study. Sometimes, you wondered if he remembered you lived in the mansion with him.

Mattheo found himself frequenting the library more often, looking for books he had never needed before. A swell of pride filled him whenever he saw you by the fire, knowing that something in his home brought you such comfort. He still refused to speak to you, maintaining distance and ignoring your existence, but he found himself increasingly drawn to your presence.

One day, on a whim, he decided to take a risk and left a stack of his favourite books on the table next to your chair. That afternoon, you found the stack of books. You smiled despite yourself, though you didn't make any comment to Mattheo. You picked up the first book, sat down in the chair, and began to read.

A week later, Mattheo was hosting a dinner party for his associates. He didn’t say a word about it to you, though you heard the servants preparing for it. You decided not to go, opting to stay in your safe haven of the library.

After an hour or so of faint music, you heard the door to the library squeak open and your head whipped up. You saw one of Mattheo’s friends, Tom, enter and look around. He spotted you and his lips curled up into a smirk. “So you’re the wife we’ve heard so much about?”

Your stomach clenched and you replied, “I guess so.”

Tom’s smirk grew wider as he took in your terse response, enjoying your obvious discomfort. He approached you with a lecherous gaze in his eyes before asking, “and how do you find life as Mrs. Riddle? Are you enjoying your… arrangement?” His words dripped with sarcasm, not believing for a moment that you and Mattheo were married for love.

You stared at him. “It has its perks,” you said simply.

Tom laughed derisively at your response, not convinced by your nonchalance. “And what are those perks?” he asked, moving closer to you. “Extravagant gifts? Luxurious vacations? Or simply the privilege of being married to such a powerful man?”

You squared your shoulders. “I am powerful without a man,” you said sharply. “I do not need a man to determine my worth and prowess.”

Tom scoffed. “Really? How exactly did you become powerful on your own?” he asked, challenging you. “I find it hard to believe that you could ever achieve anything significant without the backing of a powerful husband behind you.” He leaned in closer, grinning.

You closed your book with a snap. “The L/n family,” you said, talking of your maiden lineage, “has had control over many estates and affairs for decades. Without Mattheo Riddle, I would’ve inherited half of it, second only to my brother. I would’ve had four auspicious companies at my ready disposal, capable of doing most anything. So, yes, sir, I would have been momentous without him.”

Tom’s smirk faded as he recognised your family name. He remained undeterred, however, stating, “that explains why your husband was so eager to marry you. He must see you as a valuable asset to his business empire.”

As you opened your mouth to retort, the door banged open and Mattheo strode into the library.

Mattheo had noticed Tom’s absence from his party, but when it became too long to be excused as a restroom break, Mattheo had asked his brother, Enzo, if he had seen where he had gone. Enzo had smiled a small smile and whispered, “Tom went to the library. Where your darling wife stays hidden.”

Mattheo saw red.

He barged into the library, a deadly, lethal, and borderline possessive look deep in his eyes. When he saw Tom flanking you, Mattheo’s expression darkened and his hands clenched into a ready fist. “What the hell are you doing here?” Mattheo demanded, his voice low and dangerous. “This is a private wing of my home - not some place for you to bother my wife.”

Mattheo moved closer to you, placing himself between you and Tom as if to protect you from further harm.

Tom quickly stepped back and placed a confident demeanour on his face. “I was simply having a conversation with your lovely wife here,” Tom gritted his teeth.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, showing clearly that Tom was lying and intruding. You saw Mattheo’s eyes flicker down to you, his eyes softening reassuringly before snapping back to Tom, malice in his gaze.

“Don’t lie to me,” Mattheo snapped at Tom. “There’s no need for any sort of interaction or conversation with my wife unless I am present.” Mattheo placed a hand on the top of your chair, his fingers gripping it and his bicep flexing slightly to warn Tom.

Tom’s eyes flicked with something you hadn’t seen before: fear. Fear commonly associated with the Riddle name. He adjusted his collar and straightened his posture. “Of course, Mr. Riddle,” he said bitterly.

You raised a brow. “I think it’s time for you to go now,” you said, your face stoic. Tom bowed his head slightly before exiting the library. You didn’t look up to meet Mattheo’s eye. You murmured, “you didn’t have to do that. I had it covered.”

Mattheo watched Tom until he completely left the room before turning to look down on you. His voice was threatening, “you may have been able to handle Tom, but I won’t tolerate anyone disrespecting or harassing you while you’re under my roof. Consider this a warning - if anyone tries to cross you again, they will regret it.”

“Perhaps you should tell your coworkers that. Not me,” you replied.

Mattheo’s expression was cold. “Fine. I will,” he growled. “I will not sit idly by and allow anyone to disrespect my wife.” He let go of your chair and adjusted the cuffs of his suit. As if in a business meeting, he said, “And consider this another warning: if you continue to act so stubbornly, I won’t hesitate to remind you of your place in this marriage.”

“My place in this marriage is your wife!” you cried out, finally standing up. “Your equal! Something you seem to forget until it’s convenient for you. Or until another man threatens your… your property! I doubt you see me any differently than this house or your assets.”

Mattheo grabbed onto your arm tightly, pulling you close and leaning down so his face was inches from yours. “Do not ever speak to me like that. You are not my equal - you are my wife and I decide what is best for both of us. If you cannot accept that, then you should reconsider your place in this marriage.” He released your arm and turned away from you, striding towards the door. “I suggest you reflect on your behaviour,” he added icily, leaving the room without looking back.

After he left the library, you let out a scream of frustration. You shoved the pile of books that Mattheo had carefully curated to the floor. They tumbled down, book after book, covers opening and pages bending. Tears pricked at your eyes as you examined the scene.

You slumped into your chair, the fire in front of your crackling softly, emitting a calming warmth.

Eventually, you fell asleep in the chair, tear stains on your cheeks. In the morning, you woke to the serene morning light filtering into the room - a vast contrast to your mood. The fire had dissolved into crackling embers. Tucked on top of you was a thick blanket and the stack of books that you had pushed over had been re-piled and stood majestically atop the table.

You sighed, knowing you should thank the servants for taking care of you and cleaning up.

After you walked to the kitchen, your footfalls heavy, you thanked the servants, who were finishing preparing breakfast. They exchanged glances and one piped up, “Ma’am, while we appreciate the sentiment, we didn’t do that. We weren’t aware that you were still in the library. We believed you had retired to bed before the social last night.” They paused and then added, “however, Mr. Riddle didn’t go to bed. He was in his study until morning light.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. You bid them an awkward goodbye before entering the dining hall.

Mattheo was already seated at the head of the table, his expression exhausted and distant. He didn’t acknowledge you when you approached, focusing instead on the uneaten plate of food in front of him.

You sat down opposite him and muttered, “the servants informed me that you blanketed me last night and cleaned up the books.” You hesitated and finally said, “thank you.”

Mattheo looked up briefly, his expression unreadable, but he didn’t respond directly. “It was necessary,” he said simply. “You should not be cold and uncomfortable in your own home.” He doesn’t make any effort to engage in conversation beyond that. Something was weighing heavily on his mind and he seemed preoccupied by it.

You hummed in response. Eventually, you stood and whispered to your husband before walking out, “you are not as cold as you want to seem. You needn’t keep the facade up with me.”

Mattheo looked up briefly before returning to his food. His expression relaxed, but he didn’t respond.

***

Later that day, Mattheo sat in his study as he always did. A knock came from the door and he glanced at the clock. It was a bit early for lunch to be delivered, but he announced, “come in.”

The door creaked open and your head peeked into the room. Mattheo’s brows furrowed - not with malice, but with scrutiny. You entered and sat in one of the two seats next to his fireplace. Silently, you cracked open a book you had brought and began to read.

Mattheo watched you intently, his gaze never wavering as he took in every detail of your face. He tried to find any acrimonious intent behind your actions, but you looked so peaceful. He found himself noticing the details of your face and your beauty as the fire cast warm highlights on your eyes. “What are you doing?” he asked eventually, his voice holding an armour of needed suspicion.

“Reading,” you said simply.

Mattheo frowned, not convinced by your answer. Why would you read in his study after the way he had been treating you? He leaned back in his chair, his work forgotten. “Isn’t there something more important that you could be occupying your time with?” he challenged.

“Not particularly,” you responded. “You’re in charge of the companies and estates. I have nothing to do. I thought I would accompany you. You must get lonely in a study by yourself.”

Mattheo narrowed his eyes, but ultimately nodded slowly. “Alright,” he agreed after a moment. “But don’t think I will stop working simply because my wife is here.” His posture grew taut as he began looking over documents again. “This is still my office and I expect you to behave accordingly.”

“I’m simply reading,” you murmured, a smile inching its way up your lips.

Henceforth, a routine was established. Every morning, you would knock on Mattheo’s study door, usually an hour or so after he began working. There was rarely conversation, the silence being broken by Mattheo’s scratch of a quill or you turning pages, occasionally being disrupted by the loud crack of a log in the fire.

One day, you had finished your book (it was an excellent book, one from the pile Mattheo had recommended) and stood to go retrieve another one. At the sound of your footsteps leaving his office, Mattheo’s head darted up and he suddenly asked, “where are you going?”

You paused and turned back to him. “I’m to get a new book. Unfortunately, as wonderful as this one was, it had an ending like all books do.”

Mattheo frowned and a hint of vulnerability broke through his exterior. “Get a servant to do it,” he offered.

“Well, I don’t know which one I want,” you counted, raising a brow in a smirk.

He huffed and shook his head, returning his eyes to his documents. He grumbled, “I will commission the servants to build you a small bookshelf for my office. You can keep your books there.” You stood, watching him for a moment, admiring him until his gaze snapped up. “Well, go get your book,” he said sharply. “… but hurry back,” he added in a mumble.

You finally smiled at him before exiting and Mattheo gazed at the place you once stood, trying to memorise how your lips curled up and your eyes crinkled when you smiled.

He rather liked it when you smiled.

***

“Are you alright?”

You sniffed and laughed. “Yes, yes. I’m being foolish.” You wiped some tears from your eyes. “My book is very good.”

Mattheo chuckled lowly. “And what made you cry, hm?”

“A daughter and father interaction,” you replied quietly.

“Was the father cruel to the daughter?” Mattheo laughed tersely, shaking his head at his documents. “Are your feelings not strong enough to withstand their wrath?”

You frowned at Mattheo, setting the book down. “No,” you corrected slowly. “The father was being kind to his daughter. He was supporting her and loving her; as a father should.” There was a pause as Mattheo looked up at you. “I know that the Riddles are a harsher family - I’ve known ever since I knew I was to marry you. But… but are you alright?”

You felt absurd asking the question. Yet, when Mattheo couldn’t meet your eye, a wistful sadness blanketing the room, you felt as if you should’ve asked the simple question weeks earlier.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then Mattheo turned in his chair so his back was facing you. "I'm fine," he finally answered, his voice rough and strained. "I am used to dealing with it, I suppose." Despite his insistence that he didn't need anyone's pity or concern, your words seem to have affected him more deeply than he wanted to admit.

“May I ask a question?” you asked softly.

Mattheo hesitated for a moment before nodding, his eyes never leaving the window as he spoke. "Ask away," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He then cleared his throat and said, "but I won’t give a warm and fuzzy answer."

There was a pregnant pause in the air as you gathered your courage up and suddenly thrust your fears upon your husband. “If we ever have children, which we’re somewhat expected to,” you added hurriedly. “I don’t want them to grow up in a household where they feel as if they have to vie for love or attention. And I don’t want me to be the only one giving them attention.” Mattheo turned his head so his face was angled toward you, but his eyes could still stray to the window if need be. “If we have kids, can you promise that you’ll love them? Even if you don’t love me?”

Even though your voice was steady, Mattheo knew of the vulnerability deeply rooted within you.

He nodded cautiously, his expression serious. "I promise," he said firmly. "I may not love you, but I will love our children unconditionally. They will never have to compete for my affection or feel neglected. I may not be a fond father, but I will provide for them and protect them as best I can." A protectiveness filled his veins just at the thought of something happening to his future children.

You nodded once, a sad smile on your face. “Perhaps we’ll have a big family. Enough children to start a sports team.” You smiled at the thought, laughing lightly.

Mattheo smiled, despite himself, imagining a large brood of children running around the manor. It was an oddly appealing idea, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. "We'll see," he said noncommittally. "I'd rather have lots of sons; they'll carry on the family name and ensure my legacy continues." He turned back around and attempted to focus on his work.

“And daughters too.” You frowned, staring at your husband, even if he wouldn’t spare you a glance. “Daughters can carry on the family name just as well as sons.” A muscle in your jaw ticked.

Mattheo scowled at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. Why hadn’t you just fallen into line? "Fine, daughters too," he reluctantly agrees. "But make no mistake, they will be raised to be strong and capable like their brothers. The Riddle name demands nothing less."

“And the sons can be soft and caring and sensitive,” you said firmly, crossing your arms. “I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have to vie for affection. I thought we agreed that they wouldn’t have needless competition in their life. I don’t want them to grow up… like, well… you.” You finally uttered the words that had been hanging off your tongue dangerously.

Mattheo’s expression hardened as he clenched his fist tightly. "Fine!" he snapped. "They can be whatever the hell you want them to be! But don't expect me to sit back and watch while they become weaklings and failures. We need to teach them to be strong and ruthless like I am." He stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process.

You jump up after him, crossing towards him. You whirled to a stop in front of him, jabbing a finger towards his chest. “Listen here, Riddle. Just because someone is kind and vulnerable doesn’t mean they’re weak!” You growled, “and just because you grew up like that, does not mean that’s the type of household I am going to have.”

Mattheo stepped forward and his hand flew up to grip your wrist. His eyes blazed with anger, but then something changed in his expression and he took a step back, looking surprised at his own reaction. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I shouldn't have assumed that being vulnerable meant being weak." He ran a hand through his hair, looking embarrassed, yet resolute in his decision. "But don't expect me to be a pushover either. I'll still teach them to be strong and independent."

“Strong and independent are good qualities,” you conceded. “Both for the boys and girls.”

"Agreed," he said. Mattheo straightened his cuffs and cleared his throat. "Our children will be taught to be strong and independent, regardless of gender. They will know that they are loved and valued by both of us, equally." He held out his hand to you, indicating that the argument was over - for now at least. "Deal?"

“Deal.” You shook his hand defiantly. It was a business deal, but a good deal at least.

Mattheo exhaled and brushed past you. “I’m to a meeting,” he informed you. It was a simple comment , one that was an offhand remark, but to you, Mattheo had just let you into his life. It was something he had never done before. Even if it was just a response to where he was off to, it was a window into his life. A life that now may have enough room to hold you.

Mattheo paused when he reached the door. “I never knew the way I grew up was wrong until I saw other families. I saw the parents bending down to listen to their children instead of hushing them. I saw parents comforting their children after scraped knees, not pushing them to the kitchen for some rubbing alcohol. I saw parents beaming when their child could plunk out the simplest of tunes on the piano. No one else got berated for being out of rhythm or playing a D instead of an E. I never saw another child get slapped by their parents or scolded as harshly as I was. It was around then I realised that something was wrong. But what was I to do about it?”

Words dried in your throat. You wanted to cry at his words, but you felt dried out. How could someone treat their child like that? It explained so much…

Your husband was a fragile man, you were just realising. And he was trying to pick up the pieces and present them to you in the only way he knew how.

"The stars remind me of you,” he said quietly, the change in conversation sudden. “I mean that in the best possible way.” His voice was the softest and most tender as you had ever heard it. You hoped he would keep speaking the melodies that made your heart sing in tune.

“How so?” you asked, afraid to break the plane of existence that you and Mattheo were carefully standing on.

"They are so beautiful, yet so far away. I may see them, but I can never touch them."

***

The servants didn’t know what to do. The master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle, seemed to be at a ceasefire. The cooks lamented at how they had seemed to be doing so well. The maids thought they were destined to doom from the start. The butlers gossiped about Mr. Riddle’s letters to a Mr. Tom, terminating their long-term partnership. The scullery maid still had hope that the husband and wife would come to their senses and live a happy life.

It perplexed the servants when the mistress requested to move her belongings back into the master bedroom and the master looked on, a soft smile on his lips. It confused the servants when the Mr and Mrs began taking meals together and talking in hushed tones late into the night. And it bamboozled the servants when, one summer afternoon, the Lord of the household stood from his desk, cautiously moved to his Lady that was reading by the open window, and asked her to accompany him on a walk. She had accepted.

There was to be a dinner party, this time hosted at Mr. Draco Malfoy’s manor, that Mr. Riddle was expected to attend. Per usual, the master didn’t invite the mistress, but she was content to stay home. A maid briefly heard the madam whisper to her husband, “hurry home, please? I don’t like it when you’re away.” The maid had scurried away before she could hear the reply.

Mattheo returned home that night, just before the sun was setting. He climbed the steps, unbuttoning his cuffs and loosening his tie. The soft glow of light was still shining under your shared bedroom - something he still hadn’t gotten used to - and Mattheo couldn’t help but smile.

“Why are you still up?” he asked quietly when he entered the room.

“You promised to be home early and I wanted to see you before I go to bed,” you reminded him, a small book in your hands.

“Right, right.” Mattheo chuckled and shook his head, slinging off his tie and jacket.

“How was the dinner?”

Mattheo hummed noncommittally. “Not the worst. A couple of my good friends, Theo and Pansy, were there to help alleviate the pain of socialising. But… I found something odd happening.”

“And what was that, husband?” Mattheo took a moment to relish in the way that word curled off your tongue effortlessly.

“I found myself wishing you were there. Nay,” he quickly corrected himself. “I wished I was here with you.”

“Oh?” Your eyes flickered up towards Mattheo, a slight blush coming to your cheeks. “Why… what do you mean by that?”

Mattheo began to unbutton his shirt and moved towards his closet. “Well,” he admitted, mumbling to himself. “I simply mean that instead of having to socialise with people who are too tightly wound and whose only intent is to take my money,” he chucked his belt into his closet and rolled up his sleeves, “I would rather be at home with my darling wife.”

A smile inched up your lips. “Really? Tell me more about this darling wife of yours.”

Mattheo hummed, stepping towards the bed. He crawled down on the bed, leaning on his forearms to lean up towards you. “My wife… I’ve come to care deeply about her. She is a beautiful, elegant woman, one who has a fiery tongue about her and an intelligent brain that even I cannot rival. She always seems to get her way, even when I try to fight back. It’s as if my wife has a command over me that I have willingly submitted to. And I am not ashamed to say so.” He lightly caressed your arm, sending a trail of goosebumps up your skin.

“You must be careful, Mattheo,” you uttered. “That sounds an awful lot like love.”

Mattheo brought his eyes up to meet yours, the sting of tears building up behind them. His voice cracked as he said, “that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name, Y/n.”

Your lips parted in shock. “I- I didn’t realise. I’m sorry-”

“Don’t you dare apologise,” Mattheo demanded before reaching up to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were soft and meaningful against yours, hungrily trying to gather every ounce of love from you. His kisses were feverish at first, his strong hand coming up to cup your jawline, his fingers just teasing behind your ear, before his lips slowed. Mattheo was a starved man and he wouldn’t let anyone take away his only solace. He shifted so he could be closer to you, gently taking the book from your hands as you surrendered yourself to him. Your hands found his silk shirt, gripping it in your fists. He placed the book on the nightstand and moved so he was hovering over you, never once letting a second go by without feeling your skin against his.

Mattheo slowly, achingly pulled away from you and his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. “My darling, my love, my life,” he murmured, dragging a knuckle down your cheek. “I apologise for everything I have ever done or said that made you feel inferior. I would be happy to kneel for you in front of my associates and family members - just to show them how much power you have over me.” He took a breath before persisting, “I was foolish. I was incompetent. I didn’t realise how much love I held for you. It is, and always will be, only you. I will promise you this: you will be the only woman I ever touch, the only voice I ever want to hear, the only skin I will ever caress, and the only eyes I ever want to see. I will wake and fall, every morning and night, thinking of you. You are the other half of my heart, for it is you who I love. I will place the galaxies and stars in the night sky for you. If you are ever unhappy, my love, I will not rest until I see you smile again. If you are ever mad, my love, I shall smite whatever upsets you, even if it is I. And I would die a happy man if you could give me only an ounce of what I give you.”

Your breath shook and you swore Mattheo had injected ambrosia into your veins for you were sure your blood was singing with the love that was filling your soul. “I wrote a letter to your mother today,” you offered quietly, as if your mere words could ever compare to the love poem Mattheo had just gifted to you. “And I thanked her.” Mattheo’s eyes flashed with confusion. You continued, “I thanked her for birthing such a wonderful husband and for raising him. I know you u wish to renounce your family, but as of now, I want to thank them with all my heart. Mattheo, I love you.”

“And I you,” Mattheo whispered, bringing his forehead down to rest on yours. His nose bumped against your cheek and he couldn’t contain his grin anymore. “How did I ever get so lucky?” he mumbled.

You laughed lightly. “Luck? Fate?”

Mattheo shook his head and his nose brushed light curves over your skin. “No, my wife. Simply love. Pure, unconditional love.”

***

The house was bright, the curtains pulled as far open as they could be. Some servants scuttled around, holding laundry or preparing for dinner. Meanwhile, Mattheo strode leisurely through the halls, smiling lovingly as his nephews chased each other through the halls. “What do I say, boys?” he called after them.

“Have fun, be safe, and don’t get caught!” they yelled back before running around a corner.

Enzo jogged after them and grumbled to Mattheo, “it’s not your duty to rule them up.”

“As their favourite uncle, yes, it is.”

“Your wife is in Andromeda’s room,” Enzo told his brother before sprinting off after his sons. Enzo wasn’t usually at Riddle Manor, but today was a special day. It was Orion’s birthday.

Mattheo chuckled to himself before Orion raced up the steps, panting. “Papa! Papa!”

Mattheo grinned widely and scooped Orion up. “Are you alright, hm? What’ve you been up to?”

“Aunt Pansy’s carriage just pulled up!” Orion bounced in Mattheo’s arms, beaming.

“And you’re not even dressed,” Mattheo stared at Orion, pretending to be stunned. “Where’s your mother, Ori?”

“She’s helping Andy get dressed,” Orion announced. Mattheo nodded and carried his son to his daughter’s room. “Mum!” Orion cried out, seeing Y/n standing behind Andromeda, knotting her hair into a braid.

“Oh, my darling,” Y/n tied Andy’s hair up before crossing to Mattheo and taking Orion from his arms. “Are you excited for your birthday?”

Orion hummed excitedly and wiggled down from Y/n’s arms. He darted to Andromeda and wrapped himself around her in a tight hug. Andromeda grumbled, but allowed him to cling to her as she finished her hair and rouge.

Mattheo took Y/n’s hand and pulled her back toward him, nudging his nose against hers. “Look at that,” he murmured, reaching down to play with the silver and green ring on your finger. “Mine.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. Slowly, as to not arouse suspicion from your children, he backed you up and caged you against the wall in his arms. “Seven years with you and two beautiful children to show for it.”

“Hey, mum? Where’s my- eugh!” Andromeda turned around and reeled back from the scene in front of her. “For the love of Salazar, please get a room!”

“We are in a room.” Mattheo smirked, glancing up from the crook of your neck.

“Aren’t you two, if I'm doing my calculations correctly, nearing thirty years old?” Andromeda tsked and rolled her eyes.

“You believe that simply because we’re getting older, I’m going to stop loving your mother?” Mattheo chuckled before pressing a light kiss to your jawline.

You shivered and tucked your face into your husband’s chest. “Matty, spare the poor children,” you chastised lightly. “What do you need, darling?” you turned towards Andromeda.

“You used to call me that,” Mattheo whined. He stepped back from you, letting you out of his embrace.

Andromeda sighed and asked, “where is my white shawl? It’ll go well with the dress I’m planning to wear to Orion’s party.”

“Why does it matter what you wear to Orion’s party?” Mattheo asked, puzzled.

“Because Albus Potter is going to be here,” you said as if it were obvious.

“Harry Potter’s son?” Mattheo asked incredulously. “That scumbag?”

Both you and Andromeda ignored Mattheo and Orion left the room at the sound of Aunt Pansy entering the foyer and shouting out for her favourite nephew.

“Your shawl should be in the library,” you answered. “Ori was using it as a blanket yesterday.”

Andromeda sighed and turned towards the door. “He needs to stop taking my things. Just last week he stole my candelabra so he could read in the dark. Perhaps you should accelerate his schooling. He’s getting bored, you know.”

“We’ll raise our own son, thank you, Andromeda,” Mattheo raised a brow. Andy huffed and and flicked her dress out behind her dramatically, exiting the room. Mattheo turned to you and said, “they get that from you. The love of reading.”

“Yes, but they get their flair for the dramatics from you. And lest us not forget, you keep fuelling our love of literature by buying more books and expanding our library,” you countered.

Mattheo hummed. “‘Tis true. But how could I live without spoiling my wife and children?” He whirled you around in his arms and pressed a long kiss to your lips. “Speaking of children, what would you think of expanding our family?”

You let out a laugh. “You simply like the act of making a bigger family.”

“I love my children too,” Mattheo defended.

You reached up and brushed some of his hair away from his face. “Yes you do,” you smiled up at him. “You love your family very much.”

“Always.”

2K notes · View notes

lemonyboy97 · 2 months

Note

Heyyy I like your writing, and I was wondering if you could do like fluff/comfort of like Val, vox, and/or alastor with a reader who gets really socially anxious and shuts down when they get overwhelmed?

Wasnt sure what gender reader was so i did neutral, thank you so much for the ask! I havent gotten one in forever and i was fresh out of inspo ❤️❤️🫂 love you anon! (Also i threw in different relationship dynamics to spice things up and also because i cant imagine alastor being ANYONES 'boyfriend', that man would go from 'close friend and confidant' to 'fiancé')

Pop in and leave me a request on my new blog!

Fiancé!Vox, Boyfriend!Val, Husband!Alastor (seperate) x gn!anxious!reader

Warnings: brief mentions of sadism, anxious reader (obviously), not quite my definition of a panic attack but close to it

(Im going to do some loose headcannons about each of the boiz, then include a oneshot for each of them)

Fiancé!Vox

Headcannons:

I feel like Vox would be the best out of the 3 in this scenario, as he's the least sadistic. Vox is a very protective lover, he's also compassionate and doting (behind closed doors). If Vox notices you (its really a matter of when not if because this man WILL notice) becoming overwhelmed or overstimulated he is gently guiding you away from the crowd to check on you, 'Are you okay?', 'do you want to leave?', 'is there something specific bothering you?' are FAQs (frequently asked questions) His way of dealing with the issue is removing you from the situation altogether- taking you back home, wether thats to your shared apartment or the Vee's headquarters depends on whichevers closest.

Scenario:

You and your fiance, Vox, are at a release event for the newest VoxTech drop. Vox is proudly harping about the newest Tech he’s developed, an even prouder arm around your waist; how could he not be proud with his pretty little love on his arm? (He calls you his ‘pretty little thing’, ‘little love’ no matter your gender or size) He’s so absorbed in his success that at first he doesn't notice the subtle tremble in your hands, or the way you curl into him as if trying to hide, or maybe the way you flinch at the bright camera flashes. But when you let out a barely audible whine Vox immediately turns to you, all ears.

Vox suddenly realizes how overstimulating this all must be; the flashing cameras, the loud and frantic crowd, the music in the background, the shouting, the rowdy demons who are protesting- oh god how could he have been so negligent?

Vox is immediately passing the reins over to Velvette (much to her dismay), and gingerly leading you through the crowd, towards the back door.

“It’s alright, lovely, just through here… There we go…”

His words are gentle, and the hands on your shoulders to guide you are 10x more so. He leads you out the back and to the limo, and once you’re sequestered away inside he just waits- He knows when you’re ready for touch you’ll initiate. He knows that for now, just the knowledge that someone is aware and looking after you is enough to help de-escalate the situation.

“There you go, doll, breathe yeah? In…. Out…. In…. Out… good job, love, doing so well for me”

Boyfriend!Valentino

Headcannons:

Val is definietly more of a 'what do you mean?' Kind of guy, or 'just breathe?', you know? We know from his workers (ahem angeldust ahem) that he isnt the most... understanding with weaknesses and the like. So- while I feel like Val's approach is a bit more 'deal with it by not dealing with it' than Vox's, it is still heartfelt for his wonderful gf/bf/partner. Even if he wont directly address it, Valentino is the type to try and reassure you through touch, wether thats what you need or not, thats what he's got because this man KNOWS he is brash and he doesnt want to make things worse.

Scenario:

You had walked to Valentino's studio to bring him homemade lunch after he was complaining about his imps being 'inconcievably incompetent'. You are now awkwardly standing backstage, out of sight, as he directs a particularily.... raunchy... scene. You are visibly uncomfortable with screams and various sounds of... mixed sensations.. echoing around the set, along with flashing lights and dizzying scents. Altogether they make an array of overstimulating inputs, and after setting down said lunch on a side bench, a pretty note tucked into the lip of the basket, you stumble back outside, trying to catch your breath. Val follows you shortly after, he caught sight of you from across the set.

Valentino carefully sits beside you, pulling you into his side.

"You alright there, babycakes?"

You shakily nod, but Val sees right through you. He sighs and kisses your temple as he absentmindedly rubs your shoulders.

"Thought I warned you 'bout my work hours, baby"

You slowly explain that you just wanted to surprise him with lunch and he smiles, kissing the inside of your wrist.

"Damn, sugar, shoulda started with that, hm? Why don't I pop in and grab it- then we can share it out here while you get your head back on."

Husband!Alastor

Headcanon:

This man. This. MAN. It can go one of two ways depending on where your relationship is with him- but in this you are married so- he would be so attentive- like. You would barely be feeling the 'oh hey, this is a lot' feeling and Al would pick up on it and knight in shining armor you away from it. Alastor just KNOWS. He has like a sixth sense when it comes to you. He is so finitly attuned to every fibre of your being that you cant even hide it from him. He just KNOWS. Like- you're in cannibal town (because be real y'all go on dates there all the time and Rosie adores you) and the children are being rowdy but 'its alright, i can manage-' oh and there's Susan- 'yes susan, we are married- no, no susan you cant see my ring im a bit worried you might try to eat my finger- No, really i insist-' oop and here comes Alastor, scooping you up with a charming grin, Rosie on his heels. 'Come along now darling, our dinner is waiting'

Scenario:

You and Alastor are in the hotels lobby, greeting guests for a party Charlie is throwing to 'encourage the inhabitants', Alastors hand is protectively on the small of your back like always. The arriving demons are a bit rowdy but nothing too bad- the real issue is the howling, rambunctious laughter coming from the bar, poor karoke all but screamed into the low quality microphone (much to Husk's annoyance), flashing strobe lights arouns the room turning the guests pink, green, blue, pink, green, blue, pink, green, blue-

"Dear?"

Careful fingers snap in front of your face- effectively lurching you out of your spiraling thoughts. You swallow thickly and look up at your husband, shaky smile plastered on your lips.

'Yes, Al?'

He frowns as he gaze flits from one eye to the other, then, his mind seemingly made up, he summons his shadow, scoops you up, and shadow travels back to you twos shared room.

"Oh lovely, this certianly wont do"

He dotes on you, rubbing your tense shoulders, kissing the crown of your head, murmuring sweet nothings to your skin as he lays you down in your shared, king bed. And later, once you're half asleep and content in his arms, he lovingly murmurs,

"No more of Charlie's so-called 'parties' for you, my sweet"

A/n: Reblogs are always encouraged and appreciated! And yes i did like my own post. I am very proud of this, i wrote it in one day WHILE (legally) high on loopy pain medicine

#hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel x reader #valentino x reader #vox x reader #hazbin vox #hazbin valentino #val x reader #vox fluff #alastor hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor #alastor headcanons #alastor imagine #alastor x you #LemonyWrites

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frogzxch · 4 months

Text

CEO!Sukuna x Ex-Fiance!Reader

Summery: Sukuna was your fiance when he didn't cheated on you with yorozu he use to love you so much and mostly toxic rs kind of thing but when he let go of you, you found out few days later that you we're pregnant and you didn't want anyone connected to him know that you we're pregnant....

GENRE: Fluff!Angst

Warnings: MDI unless 14+?, slight smut, pet name's, Cheating, unhealthy relationship, toxic relationship, sexual scene.

Word count? Prob 1k lmao

Sukuna was your first lover and you thought he would be last..

You we're out with your friends chatting and going on shopping, One of your friends mention something about their man cheating on them and ofc your other friends would comfort her same goes to you and it got on your mind that you we're very much thankfull that your man was loyal to you even if other girls chased for him, afterall he was rich, handsome, and has a great status overall perfect for the everyone's eyes well as you think he was loyal? As you called the driver that you we're ready to go home you chatted Sukuna on your phone as you waited for the driver to pick you up, you do miss your soon to be husband afterall.

[ Y/n ]

: Honey~ I miss you how are you doing on your business trip? <3

( you waited for him to text you back immediately since he always does reply fast )

[ Sukuna ]

: I'm busy right now sorry love.

[ Y/n ]

: Oh alright don't overworked yourself oki <33 mwa

[ Sukuna just react heart to your massage ]

It was strange for you that he have been texting you strange lately, he replies dry massages and also it got to the point that you overthink, you just brush it off that maybe he is really busy few days later he arrived and you we're excited to just hug him again and give him your love of affection but when he arrives his expression was not quite excited you suddenly stop for a moment and ask " Is something wrong dear? " He just shake his head and chuckle " Nothing love. I just need some rest okay? " He spoke in a stern calm voice not the loving soothing tone one just for you, you still brush it off that maybe his exhausted from the work you nodded at him and just smile.

Few weeks later he was acting more different mostly he would talk lesser to you he treats you differently unlike back then he would bring you gifts and just spread loving sweet words at you phrasing you, you both only have sexual pleasure once now. It made you feel hurt or you felt your heart tighten because the man you love is different now. Today was your Anniversary with him you doll yourself up just for him and ready to go to his office in his company as you arrived you greeted the workers sweetly as usuall, You ask Uruame were was Sukuna and he just responded " I think in his office mrs. Y/n " he felt bad for you as he knows his own boss was cheating behind your back but Uruame doesn't want to tell you that..Knowing it will hurt you badly.

As you proceed closely to your fiance door you hear someth behind it and you listen closely before going in you hear another woman voice " Ryo~ hmm~ harder ahh~ " the woman was moaning loudly when you hear the desk scretch you took a peek and you saw your so called loyal fiancé fucking another woman cunt it made you wanna puke, your feelings was getting mess up you felt anger yet hurt from the sight you couldn't believe it all you did was running out of the hallway and as you see Uruame you act causally hiding the pain " Uruame. haha... he wasn't there silly " you laugh lowly but Uruame just nodded and bow " My bad mrs.Y/n " As you walk pass Uruame you decided you should run away before he gets home.

As soon as you arrived home you already know your soon to be ex fiancé will not be home early since of some "work" to do in his office as you pack all your things and left the ring on the kitchen counter you just completely disappear from his life.

{ Sukuna's Pov }

Around 10 pm He goes home knowing he would see his clueless fiance.. but when he entered the house he wasn't greeted with a smile or a soft voice coming to him..for him it was strange so he thought maybe you we're in your shared bedroom..he check but you weren't there at all he goes down the 2nd floor and check maybe your in the kitchen but no sign of your warmth...it made him worry he thinks maybe you were out with your girls but then he spotted a silver shining on the kitchen counter...it was your engagement ring that he buyed for you custom made just for you...

He was starting to loose it did you found out about his affair with his secretary Yorozu? He check his phone but you block his number you block him from every social medias you have....

[ Back to Y/n ]

The next you we're crying non stop about what you saw,but suddenly you felt dizzy and you wanted to puke you got up of your bed in your new apartment and go to the bathroom and throw up in the toilet. As you puke you decided to buy a pregnancy test near the convenience store and when you tested it out it cameback positive. It made you cry even more your mind filled with happiness mix with fear and sadness..Happy that you we're getting a child that you always wished for Scared that your child would be taken away from you if Sukuna finds out about this Sad that your child will not have a father figure, But you motivate yourself that you can do this on your own and that you are a independent woman and can be a great mother for your child...

As your baby bump grows bigger your friends would talk to it and would bring you gifts for the baby and also help you with household things and even setting up the baby room, you soon found out that it was twins, A girl and a boy it made you happy you carrased your belly speaking to it and sometimes humming a lullaby tone.

One night you we're about to sleep but one of your babies kick " My two darlings, go to sleep now mommy need's to be healthy so you can be healthy " you carrased your belly laying down on your bed smiling, the next few weeks you we're getting some of your favorite foods because you crave alot. Oh it would be easy if only Sukuna was still your man he wou already buy it even if it's in another country.

As you walk in the store you accidently bump into someone you look at the woman bowing " s-sorry ma'am I didn't meant too.. " It was the woman ryomen had an affair with, the woman roll her eyes and scoff " watch your way you fat bitch... " wow, well she was a quite meany you just walk the other way to embarrass when the woman called onto a man " Ryo~, hmmm baby that woman bump into me how annoying "

Sukuna just look at yorozu like she was just nothing " Stop being a brat you idiot " When you hear the voice, you walk even faster not bothering to turn around as you already know it was him...

Well did faith just hit your head because you came across him when you we're buying baby stuffs struggling to get the outfit you drop on the ground " O-oh god... ugh.. " you groaned it was pretty much hard when your pregnant your belly to heavy yet you are exhausted, Then Sukuna spotted you struggling to get the baby outfit you drop he saw you his eyes widen..he notice your swelling belly how he thinks it was adorable...but who's child we're you carrying? Got in his mind he walks forward and pick up the clothe and gave it to you " here...let me help you with that. " you look at him with eyes wide..like you seen a ghost... " t-thank you... " you took it and put it in your cart not having an eye contact with him " How have you been..Y/n.. " he ask looking still at you he felt guilty from what he did few months ago...

You just replied with a nod expressionless " good... " when you we're about to leave he stop you and held your hands " Are you with someone new?....who's child are you carrying....? " who ever was the man He would be devastated...You look at him " let go... " but he didn't he held your hands with a strong grip, " Y/n who is it. " he spoke in a threatening voice " non of your business! " you shouted looking at him angrily after that e chuckled " I am taking you with me. I don't care if you will not like it. " He suddenly carried you in a bridal style and you end up in the house you use to live in...It was still the same.. " LET ME GO HOME NOW OR ELSE! " he looks at you and pin you down on the couch " first tell me who is the father. " He demanded and you just start to hit him but it didn't even madeh im flinch he thinks it was adorable yet he was still handsome as you last saw him " WHY WOULD I TELL A LYING ASSHOLE LIKE YOU! "

" baby...you don't know how much I fucking miss you....now I see you all swell up hm? How about I'll just " he started to part your legs and it triggered you your body started to feel heat up he then move his finger to your panty and start drawing circle in instant your wet again " fuck...still wet for me? " he chuckle and move the slit of the panty aside and directly put in his finger inside of you making you squirm and moan helplessly his eyes still bore on your adorable slutty face he miss that he then rip your dress and took off your bra and started to suck on in which made you even more horny in a moment you can feel yourself about to cum you were more sensitive as you got pregnant oh how fuckable it was for him, you can't help but gave in you moaned louder as he fingers your tight cunt faster and harder made you hold on to his shoulder tightly as you reach your orgasm you cum on his long thick fingers he then licks it "hmm...you taste even better darling..." after that you already know what happens

[ The next day ]

You woke up beside him he was already awake reading one of his documents he was happy to have you back and it made you mad to yourself he notice you looking at him and smiled and kissed your forehead " how's my lovely doll sleep? " you frowned at him and he just chuckle and smirk " awee...don't be so angry at me like that " you wanted to slap him so badly but then a pain hit you and it was your due date of your birth...In a instant Sukuna sense it and he took you to the hospital.

After giving birth to your twins the girl has your feature but her eyes were like Sukuna Bright ruby eyes while the hair color is your H/C your baby boy has your eyes and acface like his father and the hair color was like Sukuna pinkish hair...Sukuna the know it was his child too...it made him tear up for the first time....

Well after that he was so protective about his two babies and you we're still mad at him but he would say sorry to your many times...you guys eventually live happily.

So yeah I made it only one part or maybe I will make another part we're their kids is a toddler hihii but yeah have this Angst to fluff fanfic lmfao sorry if there is any mistakes I didn't sleep yet jesus

#fanfic #fem reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #wife reader #fluff #jjk fluff #jjk angst #Sukuna x reader angst #angst fanfic #angst to fluff #pregnant reader #sukuna ryomen smut #slight smut

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amazzwon · 4 months

Text

my go-to ENHYPEN (hyung line) fics

°˖➴ Fiancé for Hire

(series)

smut, angst, fluff, non idol au, rich!Heeseung x broke!reader, contract au

°˖➴ Cherry

°˖➴ Cherry II

°˖➴ Cherry III

°˖➴ Cherry Epilogue

rich kid au, 80s au, smut, angst, fluff

°˖➴ Stitch me up

underground fighter!heeseung x nurse!reader, smut, angst , fluff

°˖➴ Rile Me Up

pwp, 6.1k

°˖➴ POOL PARTY

7.3k, smut, fluff, angst

°˖➴ LET’S GET MARRIED

he fell first but she fell harder, childhood friends to a married couple, fluff, 5.1k+

°˖➴ WANT

angst, smut.

°˖➴ CHERRIES

strangers to friends to eventual lovers

°˖➴ NDA

idol!heeseung, fem!fangirl!reader, smut

°˖➴ SURPRISE

smut, fluff, 9.3k

°˖➴ PRETTY BOY

fluff, 0.2k

°˖➴ Dances Avec Les Etoiles

(series)

Prince!Heeseung × Princess!fem!reader, arranged marriage, smut

°˖➴ as long as you'll let me

smut, badgirl!reader x virgin!heeseung, college au, 15k

°˖➴ your lips, my lips, apocalypse

angst, suggestive, implied college! au, 2.0k

°˖➴ hopeless

fluff, high school! au, non-idol! au, 10.8k

°˖➴ YOU CAME AND WENT, JUST LIKE THE SEASONS

lovers to exes, angst, 7.6k

°˖➴ KNOCK , KNOCK

skinship, swearing

°˖➴ TRIAGE

(series)

romance, comedy, fluff, high school, written series

°˖➴ STRIP CLUB

virgin Jay, crude words, smut, reader works in a strip club

°˖➴ Carmesi

(Series)

ceo!reader x secretary!jay, smut, suggestive, angst, fluff

°˖➴ Stars and Raindrops

highschool au, strangers to lovers, love at first sight, fluff, angst, crack, 23k

°˖➴ A La Folie

(series)

King!Jay × healer!fem!reader

°˖➴ APPLE CIDER!

crying, angsty, hooking up/sex, weed, 7.9k

°˖➴ you, my fate come and kiss me :

fluff-angst, soulmate au, 0.4k

°˖➴ touch me, feel me

Ceo!jay x Model!reader, smut, fluff

°˖➴ situationship!texts

angst, toxic relationship

°˖➴ just for you

fluff

°˖➴ 4 TIMES JAY ALMOST PROPOSED + 1 TIME HE ACTUALLY DID

established relationship au, romance, fluff, 2k

°˖➴ Cherry Chapstick

fluff at the beginning, smut with plot

°˖➴ Good boy

coworker!Jake x fem!reader, smut

°˖➴ Birthday Sex

smut

°˖➴ LUCK

fluff

°˖➴ kiwi and layla

high school au, f2l, fluff, angst, 26.3k

°˖➴ Royal Sacrifice

prince!jake x maid!fem reader, 7.1k, smut, angst

°˖➴ STRAWBERRY LIPS

fluff, 0.5k, classmates to lovers

°˖➴ cherries

fluff, est rshp, 211

°˖➴ Heartbeat

Friends with Benefits, smut

lyrics theme — "Ayo Fuck this, are we dating? Are we fucking? Are we best friends? Are we something?"

°˖➴ forbidden attraction

hogwarts, wizard!sunghoon x witch!reader, smut, fluff

°˖➴ star-crossed

prince!sunghoon/fem!reader, fluff, smut, greek mythology, angst, 6.8k

°˖➴ Relaxing

smut, 4k

°˖➴ HEAVENLY

playboy! sunghoon x fem reader, exes to lovers, fake dating, mutual pining, fluff, angst, 9.5k

°˖➴ will you let me

smut MDNI, angst

°˖➴ overtime

office au, fluff, 0.3k

°˖➴ Sparks

angst, 1.8k

°˖➴ BED

fiance!sunghoon x fem!reader, 7.8k

‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡ Headcanons

Enha when their idol!partner has a wardrobe malfunction

Enha when their actress partner films with a hot actor

music bank hosts: idol!enha x idol! reader

the moments that make everyone think you’re dating (all eyes on you)

Enha hyung line reaction to you being bratty

Reaction to you asking them Ass or Tits

JAY tattoos the hickeys you leave

JAY spitting in your mouth

enhypen falling in love with you during hybe game caterers

their "oh" moment (the moment they realise they're in love)

when you play with their hair

when you call them ‘babe’

calling them “husband” trend.

texting them "please don't leave me"

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perictione00 · 4 months

Text

Daddy's best friend

Pairing: Sukuna x reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut, unprotected sex, cheating, age-gap relationship, choking, oral sex.

Synopsis: When your wedding day guest list carries an unexpected twist, will you choose loyalty or be consumed by the forbidden echoes of your past?

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

You had returned to your parents' house, eagerly preparing for the grand union with your true love. Daddy, the cheerleader of your journey into wedded bliss, was beaming as he had always dreamt of watching his only daughter start a family of her own.

You had planned a humble wedding with an intimate crowd to keep things simple and affordable. Yet family ties dictated a broader invitation, including your parents' extensive network of family and friends. Enter Ryoman Sukuna, your dad's BFF—or, as fate would have it, the charming fellow with whom you shared more than just pleasantries.

Well, in short, it could be said that you were freshly out of college, and one day you happened to bump into a single, gorgeous, hot guy with a fat cock at one of your father's gatherings. You made it obvious to him how bad you were for him. One thing led to another, and the encounter escalated into a series of rendezvouses within the familiar walls of your parents' house, basically fucking in each and every corner. Alas, morality's sudden awakening prompted a parting of ways, leaving you with a wedding day guest list that carried an unexpected twist. However, with the impending wedding day drawing near, time grew more precious, leaving no room for distractions or second-guessing, and within a blink of your eye, you were standing on the stage of a pre-marital celebration in a hall full of people.

Standing in the corner of that very hall was Sukuna, who found himself feeling strangely consumed by the flames of his own regrettable choices. In a cruel twist, he became the architect of his own folly, a spectacle he never imagined. He remembers how he left you crying in order to hide the unconventional and forbidden relationship he shared with you. It was after his conversation with your father about your future and your marriage that he realized the significance of his actions. But today, the familiar sparks of possessiveness ignited inside of him after encountering your soon-to-be husband, who seemed like a person who deserved you. How could anyone have the privilege of having you when you already belonged to him?

"Tell me, Sukuna, have you ever seen a more beautiful bride than my sweet daughter?" Your father asked passionately while introducing your fiance to his friend.

"She's the most beautiful one, indeed." Even after the passage of years, a solitary word from him still had the power to leave you feeling weak in the knees. It was undeniable—he had aged like a fine wine, retaining the timeless allure you remembered. The way he appraised you with that tempting glint in his eyes didn't escape your notice. Nor did the subtle shift in his demeanor when you introduced your fiancé. Uncertain if you were reading too much into it or if reality mirrored your imagination, the nuances didn't elude you.

Once the festivities concluded, you, along with your family and fiancé, returned home, only to discover that your father had invited Sukuna over for a drink. Attempting to dismiss it from your thoughts, you went to bed. However, as silence enveloped the house with everyone asleep, you discreetly ventured out of your bedroom, yearning for a fleeting encounter with your former lover.

You were pulled into the dimness of the guestroom as a set of hands enveloped your waist, drawing you further into the shadows. Sukuna, slightly drunk yet eternally gorgeous, wordlessly guided you. No verbal exchange occurred; instead, you both surrendered to an instinctive, passionate, and hunger-laden kiss.

Pausing briefly to catch your breath, you both swiftly started undressing each other frantically. A deep groan escaped him as you tugged at his boxer briefs, unveiling his already eager arousal and laying bare his unmistakable intentions.

Feeling a hint of arousal yourself, you couldn't resist the urge to wrap your fingers around his erect shaft. A long, wet stripe up the underside of his cock, accompanied by the familiar taste and scent, led you to slide his length into your mouth. Sucking on the sensitive opening just the way he liked, you hollowed your cheeks, sensing Sukuna losing composure. He took control, gripping your hair tightly as pleasure clouded your senses. With a swirl of your tongue and a series of slurps on the thick veins of his cock, his loud moans spurred you to take all of him into your mouth, delving into a deepthroating rhythm. Sukuna lost it when his eyes met yours and started violently bucking his hips, choking you, and controlling you in the best possible ways, like he always used to, coming undone in the warmth of your mouth. You moaned at the taste of his cum, desperately swallowing all of it.

Sukuna had realized that, no matter what moral obligations fogged his views, he would always long for all of you. He remembered the countless times he jerked off to your old nudes, the way your thoughts would take over his mind during lonely, cold nights, and the way he could only ever want you to satisfy his wants. Regardless of how forbidden this relationship was, he would do it again. He would relish in your taste every afternoon like he used to; he would fuck you in your parents' room like he used to; hell, he would fuck you right in front of them if he has to. There's no stopping now.

Laying you down on the bed, he began to spit on your cunt, pulling out a condom from his wallet only to throw it away. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds. "I'll take you raw tonight."

"Ahh-fuck me, Kuna." You respond desperately, casing him to plunge himself into you, every inch inside of you within seconds. He stretches your cunt out and begins to thrust rapidly in and out of you, not giving you any time to adjust. His one hand goes down to abuse your clit and the other wraps around your throat, choking you, earning a moan out of you.

You pull him into a suffocating kiss, all the while your hands claw down his back. The way your cunt wrapped around him, sucking him in so tightly, and the way your hips eagerly matched his pace encouraged him to rapidly thrust in and out of you. His merciless thrusting and choking had you gasping for air, and with a few more strokes along your walls, he felt you cream around him.

Your vision blurred as you came with an animalistic moan of his name, causing him to lose every ounce of self-control and milk every string of his cum inside of you.

You lay there, catching your breath, letting the guilt of your actions to settle in, but it never does. Instead, you went for a few more rounds and a few more after that before finally parting ways.

"Sukuna, what am I gonna do?"

"Marry him, but make me the happiest man on earth."

Note: It's okay to simp for fictional older men but in the real world please take caution, they have greasy hair everywhere (just a friendly reminder).

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk fanfic #ryomen sukuna smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #christmas #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #sukuna x reader smut

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tteokdoroki · 1 year

Text

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— phone calls from far away + katsuki bakugou.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — katsuki get's grumpy when he's away from you - but luckily his groomsmen know just who to call to make him feel better.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, crack? smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, slight praise!kink, pro-hero!bakugou, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 2.6K.

⭑ notes — hello my lurvs! i feel like its been ages since i wrote the main man bkg so here's an old wip i found and ended up finishing so i could practise short form! twas picked by you guys! enjoy ! - m.list ✩

“i need you take this phone, drop your panties and have sex with bakugou. now.”

“kaminari— what?”

you’d just picked up the phone, halfway through a peaceful afternoon relaxing before your own bridal shower in a few days and hadn’t been expecting a call from some of your husband’s closest friends.

“you heard me! take the phone, take off your underwear and fuck—“

“please!” kirishima pleads with you next, looking like he’s about to cry. “he’s driving me insane!”

“what’s he done now?”

“he’s grumpier than usual, threatened to skin deku alive for chewing too loud and nearly ripped the damn bolt out of my hair when i asked him to pass the salt at breakfast— please, be my saving grace here and have phone sex with your fiancé before he kills us all!”

you smile and cock your head, picking up the kettle to finish your tea. “that just sounds like regular old katsuki,” kaminari’s bottom lip wobbles and kirishima groans in the background— it was obvious you were their last resort. a guys only holiday for your lover’s bachelor party had been their idea despite your warnings but you did miss katsuki and you were feeling pent up from being away from him. you were sure he felt the same, he was clingy and pouty, threw tantrums when he couldn’t have you.

“we’re begging you here,” shouto cuts in as he enters the frame— ice cold drink in his hands and his face calm. though his mismatched eyes blaze with stress. “thirty minutes of your time and i’ll let you take a spin in my father’s private jet.”

you note sero tugging on his hair in the background.

“i thought hush money wasn’t your thing, todoroki.” you’re coy with your words, watching the boys fall into a pit of despair at your boyfriend’s tantrums.

izuku speaks next, his green eyes large and glassy. “please.”

in the end, you relent in amusement and send the boys off to give the phone to bakugou while you make yourself comfortable in your shared bedroom— surrounded by his lingering scent of caramel and sweet musk woven into the threads of the expensive linen sheets the blonde insisted on buying.

you can’t stop your heart from fluttering once your fiancé pops into view— he’s decked out in a lose fitting button down, open to reveal his perfectly cut washboard abs and the expanse of his skin, slightly golden and tanned from the caribbean sun. katsuki’s luminous red eyes soften as soon as they settle their sights on you, love flickering amongst the darkened flecks that spiral within them. “hi baby, how’s your vacation going?” you sing, sinking back into the blankets and holding your phone up above so that he can get a good view of you.

“awful. these idiots wouldn’t know how to plan a trip outta this damn resort if they tried.” bakugou comments, going quiet as he waits for your laughter. he gets clingier when he’s away, finding himself souring over the fact that he can’t just roll over and bury his face in your neck every morning— instead he’s met with eijirou or stupid izuku trying to drag him out for some bachelor’s fun…when really all katsuki wants is to be with you. “miss you, wish you were here.”

“i miss you too kats, so much.” with a voice that drips like honey, you lower your tone until it’s sultry— your siren’s song running smoothly through bakugou’s ears. he quirks a brow at you, recognizing it as he mumbles a quiet ‘yeah?’ “mhm…wanna see how much i’ve missed you, baby?”

“‘course i wanna see you, pretty girl…” acknowledging his hum as one of approval, you pan your camera down the expanse of your lounging body. using one hand to hike up your (katsuki’s) shirt— revealing plush thighs and a soft tummy and the stretch marks that curl around your waist and curve of your hips. the low groan bakugou lets out from over the line shoots straight down to your clit, the little nub pulsing with need as you drag your fingertips over your skin just like your fiancé would.

both of you develop a hitch in your breath when you hit the waistband of your panties— they’re nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary but katsuki finds the comfort and confidence you have in yourself incredibly sexy. you can tell by the intensity of his stare, ruby gem eyes honed in on your every movement, that he’s hungry for you— like a feral animal that hasn’t eaten in weeks.

“how bad d’ya wanna see, katsuki?” you ask him shakily, toying with your waist band, hips wiggling as if to prompt an answer out of him.

bakugou’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and even though the service on your call isn’t the best, you’re still able to pick up on his ragged and uneven breathing. “you’re killin’ me here, sweetness. show me.”

“m’kay, let me get you a better view.”

feeling the flame of desire ignite in your core— you make quick work of propping your phone up against spare pillows and spread your legs either side of the frame. he does the same. there’s a growing wet patch from where your slickness seeps into the crotch of your underwear— obvious to katsuki even from over the screen, painted in darker shades of pixels. you’re so wet that it defines the puffiness of your folds pulsing between the material and for a bit of relief, you slide the length of your middle finger between them, whimpering out your fiancé’s name.

“that’s it, touch yourself f’me,” the blonde slurs, his eyes hooded and voice hoarse, entranced by the way you slap three fingers against your sticky and clothed cunt. “can you take your panties off too, sweetness? wanna see that pussy ‘n how she’s doin’ without me.” katsuki knows how turned on you get from him watching you, admiring you like you’re a work of art belonging to one of the finest galleries in the world— so he takes it upon himself to guide you softly, command you even when he’s thousands of miles away.

you do as your fiancé says, peeling your panties off despite how thick, clear strings of arousal glue them to your sex before you toss them into the room somewhere. a choked moan rattles around in katsuki’s throat, watching your unused, tiny hole quiver around nothing after being exposed to the cold air— he can’t help but whine next, all high pitched and desperate, wishing it was him who was circling two digits around your entrance and occasionally dipping them into your salacious sex instead of you.

that should be him stretching you out, should be him in his bed— touching up his girl and playing with her swollen clit as blood carrying lust and happy hormones rush to it. “such a…such a good fuckin’ girl for me, baby.” bakugou goads, his eyes damn near rolling back at the sound of your lewd pussy squelching around your fingers echoing around his hotel room. your hips slowly rocking against the palm of your hand so you slowly fuck them into yourself.

his camera picks up on every detail, the way your cunt glistens with arousal and the way your thighs twitch the more you give yourself— curling your fingers against your soft velvet walls bakugou’s been dying to be inside since the night he left for this stupid fucking bachelors trip. the more he sees you stuff yourself, the more his cock twitches to life and strains against the netting on the inside of his swim shorts, the first spurts of milky precum smearing against it.

before you get too lost in the pleasure, you sit up and pull your fingers from the snugness of your selfish sex and spit onto them as if to give yourself more lube to fuck yourself deeper— taking a break to reel katsuki in. “take your cock out f’me kats, i know you’re hard.” you say breathless, the tail end of your words tapering off into a quiet sigh while slap down on your soaked pussy for his viewing. “probably so pent up, miss your pretty cock. miss havin’ you inside me.”

bakugou shudders at your praise, moving quickly to kick off his shorts and letting his aching cock spring free— the length of it smacking against his tummy, precum beading just above his belly button. “i miss you baby. fuck…so sensitive,” he hisses, forming a fist around his shaft, rough palms from his quirk brushing up against the pretty blue veins that wrap all the way around him. you’ll never get over how beautiful his cock is, how beautiful your fiancé is with his skin flushed and shining with a thin layer of sweat— chest heaving rhythmically as whimpering as he touches himself to you and spits in his palm to mimick the wetness of your pussy around him. bakugou’s cockhead, a bright shade of red, bleeds white against his knuckles while he matches the pace of his hand to your fingers sliding sloppily in and out of your fluttering hole. “rub in circles baby, don’t forget. jus’ like that… jus’ like how i do it.”

pressing a thumb into your clit and dragging the hood of it back, you squeal— seizing up and gushing all at once. “ooh, shit ‘suki!” you stutter, bucking your hips up eagerly to meet your hand— imaging your fiancé stuffing you full instead of your tiny fingers. “w-what do you miss about me, kats? t-tell me baby.”

“miss…y-your…fuck! you’re so pretty. mm’god, baby…” it’s impossible to focus on anything but your pussy on display for him— your movements syncing up with each other, touching yourselves as if you’re fucking one another. the glisten of your nectar around your fingers only serves to turn the explosive pro hero on even more and he only hopes the view of his precum dripping down his balls and his knuckles has the same effect on you.

“don’t be shy kats, focus.”

“miss your skin, s’so soft. your lips on mine. my tongue in your fuckin’ mouth… fuck, your pussy wrapped around me, squeezin’ down on me just like that…” bakugou grunts out over the sound of his fist slapping wetly up and down his dick. “cant wait to get home ‘n sink into your tight little hole, fuck you like your fingers can’t.”

“i should make you wait until after the wedding day. s’what you get for leaving me.” you tease him despite your pout, saliva pooling on your tongue as you just about manage to brush at your g-spot, something katsuki wouldn’t have struggled with if he were here making a mess of you in person. you suppose fucking him over face time would have to do for now.

“no baby, please. please don’t make me wait, ‘m gonna fuck you so good i promise.” katsuki begs and you believe him, how can you not? with his cheeks all red and face twisted in desperation… perhaps agony from not being able to grind his girth into the deepest parts of you— sufficing with his soiled fist and the memory of you instead. he’s only been away from you a week, but it feels like eternity. “if you wanted to wait until after marriage i’d have put a ring on your finger the day we first fuckin’ met.” he somehow quips, his voice falling just underneath the sound of skin on skin as he pumps himself towards orgasm— matching how you get yourself there with rapid circles on your pleasure nub and fingertips pressed against your g-spot.

if he were there, you would have cum by now— squealing on his cock like the little princess that you are, your juices running down your inner thighs even more than they are now. the thought of you ruined like that that nearly kills the blonde.

“are you close katsuki? don’t hold back for me.” the way you say his name and pull him back into the present has bakugou’s hips lifting from the bed in his hotel room, the course pad of his thumb swiping eagerly over his burning cockhead as he rubs his seedy arousal into his sensitive slit. his fist around his cock mimics the way you would squeeze down on him every time you curl your fingers in your pretty cunt.

the pro hero shakes his head, the tips of his ears flushing red too even though it’s grainy from over the face time call. “d-don’t wanna cum without you.”

it’s not that he doesn’t, it’s that he can’t. katsuki can’t cum unless he’s got his eyes on you, watching every detail and shift of your facial expressions when you’re close— when you’re mewling out for him and crying for his cock just like you are now… except on the other side of the world. he can’t cum unless your body tells him that you’re close too.

“i’m there baby. let go for me.” it’s your turn to make a promise to him, throwing your head back into the pillows so you can take in bakugou’s scent— picture him rutting into you from above, droplets of sweat running down his forehead as he pounds you into oblivion. the ecstasy running through your system threatens to make the dam burst, the symphony of your moans harmonising over the call only dragging you closer and closer to your highs. “c-cum with me. please.”

neither of you can hold back, bakugou pumping his dick until it hurts— a raw and needy cry ripping through his sticky chest as his thick load shoots up it, painting him white with his own seed and contrasting against his sun kissed skin. you’re no better, gushing so hard that you force your fingers out of you, clear streams of your juices spewing out of your cunt and soiling the sheets below.

for a moment, the pair of you lay on call with each other, panting in unison as you come back down to earth. katsuki cleans himself up with a tissue and you lean down to grab your phone, wanting to see him better.

“i really do…fuck… made me cum so much. i really do miss you baby.” he’s the first to speak, his voice gravely from all the cursing and groaning he had been doing but his facial expression soft and satisfied.

“i know. i can’t wait for you to come home, have fun for me okay? i’ll be waiting.” you whisper to him, smitten and longing— mentally counting down the days until he’s back from his bachelors vacation. “no more tantrums. behave.”

“m’kay sweetness,” bakugou laughs at your warning, rolling his eyes albeit fondly. “drink some water ‘n eat somethin’ good yeah? you always forget if you fall asleep right after you cum.”

“i will. you eat somethin’ too. i love you.”

“love you more.”

it takes a while before either of you hang up— clinging onto the few moments you have with one another before one of the boys come looking for katsuki and whisk him away.

you manage with shaky legs to get up and pee before fixing yourself some cup ramen so you can head to bed for the night on a full stomach ( as your fiancé had wished ). when you wake up the next day you have several happy texts from kaminari and an attachment, so you rub your eyes to clear your bleary vision to check them.

kaminari dunce face - 13:52PM: thank you for whatever the fuck you did to kacchan tonight.

kaminari dunce face - 13:53PM: he’s literally never been nicer.

kaminari dunce face - 13:55PM: (attachment.mp4)

downloading the video, you can’t help but grin— adding the video of katsuki drunkardly hugging deku and singing his love for you in the middle of the resort at night directly to your camera roll.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou smut #bakugou thirst #bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugo x you #bnha x reader #bnha thirst #bakugo thirst #bakugou fic #bakugou imagines #katsuki bakugou smut #bnha x you #bnha smut #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

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ichcor · 6 months

Text

Husband!Nanami Kento

tags: husband!nanami kento x afab!reader, reader is same age as kento, all fluff, minimal angst, from classmates to lovers, headcanon format, live laugh love him, not proofread, header is from @/mangaterial (x)

a/n: he's very much alive, guys (im delulu). this was mainly made for @nanamibeloved because she's such a sweetheart and i'm a fan

Husband!Nanami Kento who you first met as your grumpy classmate, his soft lips often hiding behind the collar of his uniform while his dainty fingers played with his pen and whenever you glanced at him, his caramel coloured eyes were fixed on his paper, but you felt the tenderness of his gaze linger on you when you returned your attention to your teacher.

Crush!Nanami Kento whose favorite training partner in school was you; he has always adored watching the way you move, how you tamed the power that dwells within you and you did it with such elegance, it made his heart feel it never felt before.

High-school Sweetheart!Nanami Kento who finally dared to ask you to be his girlfriend on one afternoon when the sky was lilac and the breeze was lukewarm at the meadow where he made a picnic date for you. "Of course, I want to be your girlfriend, silly." You said which made him laugh a little before hugging you tightly, breathing in the smell of your shampoo.

Boyfriend!Nanami Kento who sobbed on your shoulder when he could not save someone for the first time, and it made him realize he could also lose you anytime. His blond hair was silky against your fingers as you gently caressed him, rubbing his lean back with your other hand. On that day, he made you internally swear you would never leave him.

Fiancé!Nanami Kento who proposed to you at the same place he asked you to be his girlfriend. Tears began to swell in your eyes, and you could barely mumble out "yes" as he slipped the ring on your finger. The size? Perfect match. He planted the gentleness of his lips against your hand before he stood up to have your precious face between his palms as he kissed you.

Fiancé!Nanami Kento who could not hold back his tears when he stood at the altar, and he saw you appear at the other end of the chapel. You were so beautiful in your wedding dress, with your hair done, he found himself sniffing and tearing up as he watched you walk closer to him. His fingers immediately interlaced with yours when you finally stood next to him. "You're so beautiful, you have no idea. I'm the luckiest man alive." he whispered to you, and he laughed when you told him to shut it because he would make you cry, and your makeup took too much time.

Husband!Nanami Kento who said yes to marrying you, and kissed you in front of your friends and family with such passion, he made you fall in love with him all over again.

Husband!Nanami Kento who would rather wake up at the crack of dawn and get your coffee from the shop just the way you like it than to have you wake up thirty minutes earlier than you have to for work.

Husband!Nanami Kento who sacrifices his own breaks at work to drive you home from your work when you suddenly have a high fever, and buys you medicine on his way home. The warmth of his body keeps you shielded as you shiver in between in muscular arms all night, his breath hot against your sweaty nape as he sleeps.

Husband!Nanami Kento whose love for you sets aflame a little bit more everytime he sees you.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x you

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hitlikehammers · 3 months

Text

the rhythm and the music

rating: t ♥️ cw: emotional hurt/comfort, criminal-levels of softness, rockstar!eddie having a sad for missing his husband (on the road), deep undying love ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, rockstar husbands, emotional hurt/comfort, soul-deep love, slice of life, softness

for @steddielovemonth day ten: Love is missing each other (@lihhelsing)

this is 100% the first attempt to separate the rockstar!husbands in je ne regrette rien for the sake of a show ♥️ (with the title being a callback to this instalment)

The facts are these:

They’ve just played their first show not-in-driving-distance of where they live. They have a label, and management, and publicists, and they made sure their shit was all paid for. They’d been asked if they wanted to get a tour bus together, or if they’d wanted someone to book them plane tickets—Eddie’d never even been on a plane before. They’d opened for fucking Slayer, and how, and during their set they’d hyped the album they were releasing later in the year—and how—it was just…it was amazing. It was everything Eddie’d dreamed of since he picked up a guitar and strummed so hard it stung his fingers.

Eddie’s walked ten paces from the stage, and it’s not for the joy of it, or even the overwhelm, that he thinks he’s gonna fucking cry.

Because the rest of the facts, are these:

Eddie hasn’t slept on his own in literal fucking years. Meaning he hadn’t slept without Steve—as his friend, as his lover, as his boyfriend, as his fiancé, as his husband, as his life-mate, as the love of his life and the mate of his soul, as his whole goddamn heart and then some—he hasn’t slept without Steve since—

Since the fucking Upside Down.

And yeah, he’d hugged him for probably ten whole minutes before they’d climbed out to make security at O’Hare, they’d been close to missing the flight altogether and there’d been a part of Eddie that wouldn’t have cared in the slightest if they had, would have called Steve back and greeted him as if they’d been separated a month and not less than an hour. And yeah, he’d called Steve’s when they’d landed at the first payphone he could find, breathless and clinching it fit to snap the receiver in two, its outline bright red against his hand for most of the afternoon. And yeah, he’d called again in someone’s office he probably shouldn’t have been in, on a separate floor of the venue, where he’d sneaked in and dialed and just asked if Steve would talk to him, not because he was nervous, but because…

Because he fucking missed him. Like, like his bones, or his veins knew on some cosmic level they’d been separated from the best part of any of them, the only reason for any of them to hold up his body at all: he could feel the distance between him and the heart he called home so clearly, this bodily loss in him, he feels a lot like how he felt when he realized there were goddamn holes in his ripped by those fucking bat, but this is bigger, because there’s a whole of him missing and people have always made comments, how they’re attached at the hip, codependent lobbed around by their brainier friends in varying tones that honestly, Eddie couldn’t give a fuck less to read into because yes, he depends on Steve, Steve is tied into the fucking cells of him, he makes up more of Eddie than probably Eddie makes up of himself, at this point, and Eddie would not have it differently for a second, doesn’t know if he remembers how to breathe in a version of his body that’s not this comprised of Steve-Steve-Steve: and doesn’t fucking want to. Remember.

What it’s like without.

And this, right here: this moment, a thousand miles away from the whole of him, when he should be on top of the world by rights?

Eddie’s having trouble with that breathing thing. These lungs don’t know what to make of air that’s not…that’s not made up of Steve, even just a little.

He waves off his bandmates, says he just needs some water, knows they’re planning to go out for the night and celebrate and honestly, all he wants it to give them the slip, feign an ache pounding in his head instead of the very real one throbbing like an open wound inside his chest. He thinks he almost manages until:

“Eddie!”

Their manager’s a petite woman, always in high-tops, wears lipstick but bites it off too often for it to stick for long, and Eddie adores her to pieces. His steps falter as soon as he hears her call out for him, and shit: betrayers, his own fucking feet. He has to turn now.

She’s smiling so goddamn bright that Eddie almost feels bad that the best he can fake for her right now is a grimace, his heart too sour as it struggles with the remembering, too—how is it supposed to beat, anyway, there are chambers in it, right, so is it one at a time, the top and the bottom together, one top one bottom, none, all, it’s so confusing, where’s his Steve—but he meets her grin and weirdly enough it doesn’t dim in the face of his expression, however pathetic it has to look.

“There’s someone who wants to see you,” she says, doesn’t wait for his response as she taps his shoulder as indication to follow when she leads the way.

“Morgan,” Eddie tries to halt her momentum because he can’t, he really just, he can’t right now, okay? He’s so grateful for the fans, and he’s sograteful for the band and the higher-ups that got them here and inviting them on this tour specifically but Eddie kinda things he’s about to collapse, or that some seams in him that he doesn’t know the exactly location of are going to pop and he’s going to spill out all blood and viscera right here on the floor and he just, he—

“Waiting for you in there, pet,” Morgan knocks on the door to one of the prep rooms that Eddie wasn’t entirely sure was made to be used how they’d used it, but it’d hadn’t mattered, they’d played their damnedest and it had been a fantastic show, if they were going to make their mark and draw in their base this was how they were gonna do it, but Eddie…

Eddie’s never played to a crowd, be it ten or ten-thousand, without Steve. Not…not since Steve.

He doesn’t think he can do this. He just wants to go home, and if he can’t go home, then he just wants to find the hotel they’re springing for and call his husband and fall asleep to the sound of his voice, his breathing, until he has to get up and start this all over again. He—

“Just a couple minutes, Eddie,” Morgan’s voice is pitched lower, and her expression is softer now, prodding but almost lulling, like she sees just a hint of his inner torment. “Then you’re free to go wherever you need, okay?”

Eddie nods, and she lays a land on his shoulder as she leaves him be; doesn’t stay to watch if he’ll turn the handle or bail. Trust him enough.

Goddamnit.

He swallows, pulse heavy and off-rhythm in his throat as he grabs the knob and pushes in.

Just a couple minutes.

He braces himself, tries to school his expression into something better than the grimacing, just a couple minutes—

It’s useless, though.

Because as soon as the door opens, his face fucking, just, falls.

Hell: the whole of him falls, the coming-apart-at-the-seams he was fighting, fearing, his goddamn knees give out on him—

But he doesn’t hit the floor.

No: strong arms wrap around him, an equally-strong and solid chest cushions him and he clings, he clings because the whole of him is coming back together, the missing pieces slotting instantly back into their proper places, he breathes in, and it works this time, because:

“Stevie,” he moans, and fuck yeah he’s kinda sobbing, because his Steve.

Is here.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” Steve’s stroking his curls still damp from the sweat, for all the run and jumping under the stage lights; “it’s all okay.”

“Baby,” Eddie keeps his chest to Steve’s chest almost compulsive; almost magnetic, but he tips is head back to see him, just to drink him in.

“Oh my god,” he marvels; “babydoll,” and he traces Steve’s cheek, his lips, disbelieving save that everything feels lighter, and he doesn’t disappear for the touch, and that means he’s real; he’s here.

“When—“ he starts, a little lost and still awe-struck, breathless in a new and much sweeter way.

“The whole time, love,” Steve brushes a curl back behind Eddie ear, so delicate: “the flight was delayed.”

Eddie tips his head; it doesn’t make sense.

“Delayed?”

And Steve just smooths both those warm palms, so broad and sure, down either side of Eddie’s neck to hold to him as he smiles so soft:

“I booked it at the counter as soon as I dropped you off,” Steve tells him simply, then the softness veers a little pained:

“I saw the look in your eyes,” and he leans to kiss Eddie gentle, and Eddie fucking soaks in the sensation full-on and unabashed. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner, you were already through security, and then I ran to your gate before mine and you were gone there already, too,” he tries to apologize for…what, knowing Eddie too well, for seeing the hurt in his heart and making a U-turn immediately to fix it, damn the consequences: and how. Why?

There’s nothing here but being grateful, and thankful, and undeservedly lucky, that the partner of his whole goddamn life would do that. There’s no…no apology, there, it’s—

“We can’t do this,” Steve says softly, and maybe there’s something in Eddie’s expression, or the way that he’s quiet, or the way that he’s shaking a little, or that he tears are silent but still streaming: maybe all of the above and more, but: Steve sees.

Steve knows.

So does Eddie.

“I know,” Eddie nods; inhales deep: “I know, I thought this was for me,” he bites his lip and shakes his head, now: “I thought I could—“

“It is for you, are you kidding?” Steve cuts him off, leaning in and framing his face now, baffled and adoring all at once. Eddie stills for it, confused but loved so quick and sure and strong in just those words, in just that touch.

“You were made for this,” and it’s so fucking strange, the way those words warm him and fall sour all at once, but it’s not on bit strange that he feels beloved, treasured for all of it, no questions, no exceptions: no contest.

But…Eddie could give this up: the touring. Even the music, at least like this. He could; he would.

He can’t, and won’t, give up Steve for another goddamn night. And fuck: he didn’t even last the whole night.

He doesn’t understand what Steve means—

“The thing where we’re apart,” Steve says clear but still so gentle, still cradling Eddie into him: “that’s what we can’t do.”

Right. Right, exactly, but then—

“So I come with you,” Steve answers the question unasked, and does it like it’s simple, like there’s no question: “we budget differently at home, we—“

“No, we write this into the label’s budget,” Eddie surges into the exchange vehement, relentless suddenly and he…he’ll leave this, he knows it in his bones; if he has to there is only one thing he cannot be without: “if the band wants me, and if the label wants the band,” he shakes his head, defiant; “one more ticket can’t be what makes or breaks them.”

And fuck them, if it is.

And god: the way Steve captures his lips is like a bolt of lightening, it jolts through his veins: it’s revitalizing, it’s resuscitating, it’s life itself, it’s everything.

“Maybe I could be like,” Steve speaks breathy between their lips; “some kinda of manager, or security, like on paper?” then they’re lost to kissing, licking, biting a little and he only adds on when they part for breath:

“Personal assistant, I don’t give a flying fuck, Eds,” Steve gasps, then dives in, frames his face and pulls him in and then rests their foreheads close as he breathes:

“I need you,” and he kisses it into Eddie in a way Eddie’s never felt before, so much weight: “I need you.”

“You’re the air,” Eddie breathes back, bowled over by Steve’s ferocity and the rise of fervent need, undying love in him to match.

“It felt like I was,” he licks his lips, doesn’t want to go back to feeling so lost and pained as he walked off the stage; “I,” he gnaws a little on his bottom lip then, until Steve swipes a thumb over it, soothing him away with such gentle care as it gives him courage to put words to what he knows so deep:

“I don’t remember how to be without you.”

And it’s in the quiet between them just so that Eddie clocks his pulse against Steve’s hold, evident for the pressure of Steve’s touch and he chuckles, watery; Steve’s eyes slant in askance. He grins a little, just shy of sheepish, but brings Steve’s hand to his chest without a thought, the whole of him given to this man without question; always.

“It’s right again,” he breathes out, and yeah, yeah; “it was like it forgot how,” and he presses Steve closer as he squeezes Steve’s fingers in the cadence of his own blood, for the words he can’t quite get out.

“But that’s how it felt, like it forgot so it was just,” Eddie shakes his head, then brings Steve’s fingers up to his mouth to kiss as he whispers: “a mess.”

And he bows his head close, and misses seeing Steve’s eyes for it, but Steve is everywhere, Steve is here, Eddie can hear him breathe, the world’s at rights, and before, it was—

“I was a mess,” Eddie chokes out, leaning more into Steve’s touch than kissing on his hand but it’s okay, it’s all okay because Steve’s there, and he knows, and he’s reaching and cradling and bringing Eddie to his shoulder, wrapping around him and—

Eddie doesn’t have to be a mess anymore.

“I love you so goddamn much,” Steve breathes, and just holds him tight, safe, and it’s everything he needs. It’s perfect. Steve’s perfect.

They’re perfect.

“You saw the show?” he asks, voice a little tinier than usual when he finally stills, sniffles, leans back just the slightest bit.

Steve nods, kisses the tip of his nose. “You were incredible,” he tells him honest, shining so bright with it: the joy and the pride, in Eddie; “just like always.”

And Eddie bites his lip and hides back in Steve’s embrace again, but this time he’s smiling so fucking hard.

“The boys going out?” Steve asks after a couple beats, into the curtain of Eddie hair.

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to go with?”

It’s an answer with no expectation, only curiosity. Which might make it…harder.

But so much better.

“I,” Eddie starts, makes himself straighten a little, bear some of his own weight. “I wasn’t gonna,” he swallows hard before admitting:

“Was gonna just go back and call you.”

Steve doesn’t apologize, or pity him. Steve doesn’t do anything but run hands up and down his arms, his neck, his back: present. Support. Love, always. For all of it.

No matter what.

“This is big, baby,” he finally breaks the still, but never stops the soothing motions of his hands: “I will do whatever you want to, whatever you want me to,” he tells Eddie, clear and devoted and once more time: no wrong answers. “I can come with you, I can go back to the hotel with you,” his voice dips a little lower and his smile turns a little sly; “I can wait in the hotel,” and for the first time Eddie laughs, just the littlest bit, heart leaping the tiniest little jump: “for you,” and it doesn’t have to be sad again, or really ever, for Eddie to know without a shred of doubt.

There’s no wrong answer.

“I don’t want to be without you,” is the surest, purest thing he knows, so he starts there. “Not right now, not,” he swallows hard and meets Steve’s gaze, no matter how watery his own starts to get, yet again: “not ever.”“Okay,” Steve answers with a nod: whatever Eddie wants.

Jesus H. Christ: but beyond this man, what more could he ever want?

“I should celebrate with them,” Eddie settles on as an answer finally, whenSteve doesn’t move, when his strength and his steady presence bolsters him without end, here: “this was a big deal,” and it was. Before the loss and the wishing and the missing consumed him, Eddie was very much aware of that. He knows, now, they never should have tried to be apart like this. It wasn’t worth it.

He knows, now, that they’ll never try again: and that’s what counts. “You okay with that?” Steve prompts, so clearly in Eddie’s corner, so ready to support whatever’s best for him, and fuck anyone else.

Eddie loves him so goddamn much.

“Yeah,” Eddie’s able to answer with a level of certainty that would maybe surprise him, if Steve weren’t here like this at his side:

“Yeah, I am,” and Steve smiles at him like the goddamn sun coming out from the clouds, like he always does, the body Eddie charts his orbit around by rote:

“Sounds like you’ve got a plan, then,” and Eddie can’t help it, he cannot possibly help but to lean in and capture those grinning lips, to devour some of that endless light.

“I love you with everything, Steve Harrington,” Eddie breathes, wondering again; “whatever comes of any of this,” he drags his lip against Steve’s with every syllable: “you know that you’re my one and only, my first and foremost,” and he draws back just enough to lock eyes, and make sure: “yeah?”

And Steve holds his gaze for a moment, another, before he smiles a different smile; his own kind of wonder. “Never thought I’d be able to say it,” he shakes his head with that warm, that grin; “but yeah,” and it’s honest, and Eddie’s chest swells for it: “I do know.”

That….that right there is worth more than any tour, or headline, any album or award. Steve is worth more; but Steve knowing he’s loved?

Eddie could never do a goddamn thing in this world more worthwhile.

“You’re my heart and soul,” Eddie breathes into him: “the rhythm and the music,” he reminds him, as he often does, because it’s always true.

“That and more, baby,” Steve answers, because he always does just the same: “all that and more.”

And he means it. They both do. They have always meant it.

“Let’s not keep the guys waiting,” Steve grabs Eddies hand, gives him time to change course if he needs to as he laces them together one by one.

But Eddie’s not changing any course. He’s just grateful to be tethered to Steve so tight, for whatever comes next.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch

♥️

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#steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #established relationship #established steddie #rockstar!eddie munson #slice of life #love so deep you can't see the bottom #steddielovemonth #love is missing each other #stranger things

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justgowithitplease · 3 months

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jason todd with the valentines day special pleasee

YOU'RE SO GOOD TO ME

It was Valentine's Day, yet Jason still had patrol. God you hated it. You couldn't have one night home with your boyfriend without it being disrupted or cancelled. Not even on the holiday of love. Fuck, even Bruce and Selina had taken the night off.

You were in yours and Jason's apartment, laying on your bed in the dark. The only light in the room was from your phone, which was filled with images from your friends Instagrams of their boyfriends and fiancé(e)s and husbands.

They were having an amazing night with fancy restaurants while you were worrying if your lover would make it back home or not.

You let your phone flop out of your hand and onto the bed as you reach to his side of the bed. Your fingers dig into his pillow as you drag it over to you. You hug it tightly, taking in a big breath to inhale the scent of rain and motorcycle grease. An odd yet comforting smell.

You slowly start to drift off to sleep, the warmth of the blankets and the darkness of the room pulling you into it's depths. Your breathing slows down as your eyelashes flutter, you finally sleeping.

An hour or so later, you're woken up by the familiar sound of military boots and kevlar hitting the ground. The door opens a few seconds later, revealing an exhausted looking Jason.

He's in black cargo pants made with kevlar woven in, and a long sleeved black shirt. His dark brown hair is ruffled and messy. The white stripe in the front of his hair is on the right side of his face instead of the left where it usually is.

"Jaybird?" You mutter sleepily, looking over at him as you rub sleep from your eyes

"...hi love..." he whispers softly "I gotta cut on my side. D'yah mind patchin' me up?"

You nod, getting up. You stand up and trudge over to the bathroom, flicking on the lights. Both yours and Jason's eyes squint from the sudden intrusion on your corneas.

Jason leans against the sink counter, you rummaging through the drawers. You pull out some hydrogen peroxide, gauze, and pre wrap you bought for things like this.

You turn on the sink and wet a square of gauze. You press it to the gash on the side of his ribs, getting rid of the dried blood crusting the shirt to his body. He helps lift his shirt up, keeping it off the wound as you clean it.

He's done this enough times, been beaten and cut so much the sting of the cleaner doesn't hurt. And he's not really one who's sappy, so he's never tell you this, but it hurts a little less when you're cleaning his wounds.

You put the gauze over his wound, wrapping pre wrap around his ribs to keep the gauze on. He takes off his shirt and replaces it with a spare green T-shirt from off the bathroom floor. He watches you put the med kit back, his grey eyes tracing you.

You walk out of the bathroom, flicking the lights off as you leave. You lift up the covers on the bed and crawl under, the warmth threatening to take you immediately if it weren't for Jason's weight appearing next to you.

As you two lay comfortably in the silence and darkness, Jason shifts over to lay his head on your chest and have his arms draped over your hips. His body heat soaks into you, pulling you deeper and deeper into the almost irresistible urge to sleep. The only reason you don't is because his whispers reach your ears before you can.

"You're so good to me." Jason whispers softly "Happy Valentine's Day love. Sorry it sucks."

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #red hood #dc comics #dc #dc angst #angst #batboys #batbros #batfam x reader #batfamily #batbrats

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chelseypprimrose · 10 months

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Jilted Ex-Lover / Negan x Reader / fiancésdad!Negan

Warnings ⚠️: unprotected sex, elements of rough sex, use of petnames, oral (fem receiving) not proof read yet.

Summary: After your fiancé leaves you high and dry on your wedding day, his dad comforts you in a way you didn’t ever expect.

A/N: I got burnt out to fuck writing this lol, writers block was strong on this one, hope you enjoy it all the same though, thank u for all the love on my other stories 🤍🫶🏼

“How the fuck could he do this to me?” You exclaimed, stomping down the hallway of the old manor house, the rooms still decorated in the victorian inspired decor you’d picked out months ago. Making it back to your bridal suite, you threw the doors open, reaching under your dress to get your uncomfortable heels off your feet, throwing them into the corner without a care. Your bridesmaids followed behind you, a couple on their phones trying to get in contact with your fiancé, or should you say ex-fiancé. You’d noticed he’d been getting jittery the closer the date got, not caring when you’d come to him for his opinions on the food menu or the DJ set list, him just humming along, his eyes still glued to his phone. You’d tried to push it to the back of your mind, chalking it up to just be cold feet, something that was common but when the day eventually arrived, it would all be fine. How foolish that was, on what was meant to be the happiest day of your life, the day you are meant to promise yourselves to one another, you’d been embarrassed in front of not only your friends and family, his as well. You kept replaying the moment over and over again in your head, the gasps of the wedding audience, hands going over their mouths in shock, the tears that entered your eyes and started to fall down your cheeks. He’d left you there at the alter, stuttering when it came to the all important question, running down the stairs, head held down as he rushed out of the door.

“So, what do you want to do Y/N? Everyone’s traveled here, everything is set downstairs.” One of the bridesmaids asked you, looking around at the others with a nervous look on her face, almost not wanting to ask you the question. You sighed, taking a hold of the crystal decanter that was on the dressing room table, using the ice tongs to place two cubes of ice in a matching whiskey glass, pouring a stiff drink. “You know what?” You laughed, taking the drink in one go. “Fuck him, there’s no chance I spent all this fucking money for everything to be cancelled. Tell everyone to head to the reception. We are continuing like this never happened.” Your bridesmaids started to text away on their phones, one looking up for a brief moment. “What about his family? Are they invited?” You looked towards her, a small smile on your face. “Of cause, I’m going to get some questions answered.”

You’d still changed into your reception dress, a long flowing silk white strapless number, you’d still had your first dance, just with your own father instead of your husband, a few fallen tears as you did, quickly wiped away. You’d had people coming up to you from both sides, what should have been congratulations became apologies and sympathies. You hadn’t heard from him since he ran away, the thought of somehow this being a dream now fully out of the picture. The beat of the cheesy classic wedding songs in the background, as you asked the bartender for another drink, passing your empty glass to them. Your nails tapped against the bar, looking around at everyone still enjoying themselves and dancing near the stage where the DJ was positioned. The bartender returned with your glass now full, a nod of appreciation as you took it.

“Drowning your sorrows, sweetheart? Can’t say I blame you.” You turned to look at where the voice came from, a small look of disapproval sat on your features. “Well, you have your own demon spawn to blame for that one, Mr Smith.” He let out a hearty chuckle, leaning on the bar top. You knew you shouldn’t be directing your anger at Negan, your fiancés father but you couldn’t help your feelings. You’d been racking your brain all day of how someone could think it was okay to completely abandon what was meant to be their life partner on the day of their wedding, knowing how embarrassing and disrespectful it was. “You really did a brilliant job of raising him, the fact he thinks that it’s morally better to absolutely embarrass me in front of everyone, he could have cancelled this before now, saved me the heartbreak.” You concluded, taking a sip of the wine from the glass. Negan looked at you with a guilty look on his face, his hand rubbing his face. “I’m so sorry doll, he never came to me with any of this, if I’d known he was going to do this, I would have shut that shit down, made sure he went about the right way to do it. That’s not the way I fucking raised him. It was a cowardly move.” You let out a sigh, you could tell from the way Negan was looking at you he was being completely truthful, you’d always got along, there would be no reason he wouldn’t have come to you with this, even if it meant going behind his sons back. “I know. Sorry, I just have a bit of resentment towards anyone associated to him at the moment, it isn’t your fault. Maybe just hit him in the face a couple times when you eventually find him.” You smiled, trying to lighten the mood for the moment before you cried again. He laughed at this, his arm leaving the bar to wrap around your waist in a gentle embrace. “Don’t worry doll, he’ll be getting an earful from me when I see him. I don’t like seeing your pretty face upset, especially not over some boy.” He pulled you close, his hand resting in place, you felt safe in Negan’s arms, a weird sensation coming over you, arousal? It was no secret that Negan was a good looking guy, anyone with a set of eyes could see how handsome he was, he had all the charm in the world to match as well. So suave, he held himself really well, almost a people person but wouldn’t take any shit from anyone. To be honest, there had always been some kind of silent attraction between the two of you, you’d noticed when his eyes had lingered on you for a little longer than was deemed socially appropriate, how he always seemed more relaxed in your company, when he’d bring you breakfast some mornings when he knew his son was away on business trips. He’d taken good care of you and welcomed you with open arms into the family, which caused the betrayal to sting more, you weren’t just losing a potential husband, you were losing a extended family relationship as well.

“Well if you would excuse me, I have to get back to people coming up to me and expressing their condolences, you’d think it was a funeral, not a wedding.” You slightly laughed, taking one last look in his eyes as you bid him farewell.

A couple hours later, after everyone had left, you found yourself in your suite, having taken your hair down from the intricate up do, having to weave out the small flowers that had been placed in the style and what felt like ten thousand bobby pins. Grabbing a quick shower, you’d put on a silk set with a short robe, what was meant to be your wedding night lingerie, another thing you’d spent a ton of money on that you didn’t want going to waste. You’d barely checked your phone through the night, looking at it now you hadn’t had any calls or texts from your estranged ex, concluding that was probably a good thing, not wanting to get upset thinking about it again. A loud knock at your door made you jump, throwing the soft duvet off your body as you made moves towards the door, a look of surprise at the person. “Hey doll, I figured you wouldn’t want to be alone tonight, so…” Negan trailed off, raising the bottle of champagne and two flutes in his large hand. “Champagne? Aren’t you meant to drink that when you’re celebrating?” You questioned, cocking one hip to the side sarcastically with your eyebrow raised. “Well, depending on how you look at the situation, you could be celebrating the fact you don’t have to deal with a silly little boy anymore who can’t appreciate a good women in front of him?” You laughed, taking the bottle out of his hand, moving away from the door so he could enter the room. “Well, when you put it like that.” Negan shut the door behind you, taking a seat on the bed as he watched you pop open the bottle, pouring two glasses and handing him one. “To new beginnings?” You cheers with him, the glasses clinking together. “To new beginnings, doll. So what the plan from here? Weren’t you meant to be going on a honeymoon?” You huffed, you’d completely forgotten about your impending honeymoon, two weeks on your own sounded morbid. “I haven’t even thought about it, I forgot. Do you think it would be pathetic to go by myself? Maybe I can explain the situation and get refunded, I’ll just have to take the hit if not.” Negan smiled as he shook his head. “Nah, it’s not pathetic. Hell, you paid for the trip, you deserve the time away.” You nodded, taking a small sip of the champagne. “Yeah I guess, just don’t know how I feel about a solo trip, it will cause me to overthink everything and get upset.” You looked down at the ground, taking small steps until you were sat across from Negan on the bed.

“Did I do something wrong? I mean, am I really that insufferable that someone felt the need to run away from me? Is the idea of marrying me that bad?” You asked, the thoughts you’d tried to push down all day coming back to the surface, causing you to get emotional the more you fixated on it. “No doll, don’t think that shit. He royally screwed up on this one, there is absolutely no excuse to do what he did to someone, especially someone like you.” He moved to wrap his arms around you again, you leaning your head into his shoulder, your hand placed on his chest, you could feel his faint heartbeat on the surface. You sat for a short time, neither of you moving from the position you were in, savouring the moment. You looked up at Negan, those deep brown eyes of his almost staring into your soul. He glanced down at you as well, this unspeakable tension surrounding you both, he leant forward and began to kiss you, your eyes wide with shock. “Wha-what are you doing? Please don’t tell me this is some sort of pity kiss.” You asked, pulling slightly away from Negan as his hand began to the side of your face, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “Of cause not, let me help you forget about that fucker. Doesn’t know a good women even though it’s staring him in the face. Let me make you feel good, doll.” You pulled him towards you, now capturing him in a feverish kiss, your hands exploring his neck, holding him tightly. “God please, help me forget.”

You moved to straddle Negan feeling him through the thin lingerie you had on as he met your kisses with just as much confidence as you. His tongue making quick work of turning your insides to jelly, moving to whip your robe off your body, making quick work of unclipping your bra as well. You took no notice of where the items of clothing landed, though you had a feeling you would regret that later. Your breasts now free, Negan took the liberty of exploring you, delighting in the arch of your back as he worked a nipple between his teeth. One hand was on your back, the other trying to work on getting your panties down. You stood for a moment, shedding the flimsy material off your body, Negan taking a moment to admire your curves, as you straddled him again; hot skin against hot skin. The sensation overwhelmed you, aching to have him inside you. “Fuck, you are perfect doll. So beautiful.” He mumbled against your lips, his hands now roaming your body.

He laid you down on the bed, your legs spreading to make room for him. He kissed your neck, gently nipping it as he worked his way down, more attention on your breasts. You knew what was coming but that still didn't prepare you for the sensation that came once his mouth made contact with your pussy. Your hips bucked, Negan using one hand to steady you. You still couldn’t believe you were actually going to have sex with your fiancés father, the ultimate fuck you. “Uh, Negan! Fuck, your mouth feels so good!”

He slowly slid two fingers inside of you, delighting in how slick and tight you were. He worked his fingers in and out, building a rhythm while still licking at your clit, causing you to moan out, your hands gripping the sheet below you. Before you knew it, you could feel the orgasm building inside of you, this is what you had been craving. Your fiancé could never give you pleasure like you were currently experiencing, never even going down on you really, always just chasing his own high. You’d missed the attention of a man who knew what he was doing and Negan definitely knew what he was doing. You thrust your hips forward, wanting to get as close to Negan as possible. He sped up his rhythm, his tongue continually flicking against you. You was close, so close. Your other hand was grabbing at his shoulder, leaving red marks underneath his shirt, where your nails dug in slightly.

“Fuck doll, you taste divine, so wet for me.” He whispered out, attaching his mouth back to you after. "I'm so close," you choked out, surprised at the fact that you could talk at all. "I'm going to come, Negan! Fuck! Don’t stop!” You moaned, gripping the sheet even tighter as your orgasm washed over your body. The muscles in your body contracted as you thrust toward him again. Negan continued to work your clit through your orgasm, sporadic moans leaving your lips as the wave of pleasure that rolled over you was unbelievable. You couldn't control anything, the waves subsided as you tried to relax your body. You loosened the grip that you had on his shoulder as he looked up at you, a confident grin on his face.

“You okay baby?” He asked softly, already knowing your answer. “Never better, I need you.” His hand caressed your breast again and down your body. He slid a finger into you, finding you to be wet and ready for him. Your hands explored his body again, practically ripping his suit down, exposing his shaft to you, it standing erect at attention. You ran your hand around the length of it, pleased to hear him moan as you did so. You pumped Negan’s cock a few more times, the pre cum oozing out of the top, causing your hand to become slick. You were nervous about Negan’s size, you’d never seen a more impressive cock. The way he stood over you as well, so manly and dominating. “You ready doll? You look so beautiful, so needy for me.” You could only nod, as he positioned himself at your entrance.

You moved to the top of the bed, propping yourself up on the soft pillows positioned there. You spread your legs a little wider as Negan slowly eased himself into you. “Oh fuck, you feel good.” You moaned as his entire length entered you.

He grabbed your legs, putting them up over his shoulders, allowing his cock to go even deeper. His hands gripped your thighs as he thrust himself into you at a faster, harder pace, almost taking your breath away. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, doll. Fits me perfectly.” he growled, reaching up and began tweaking one of your nipples. The sensation of Negan playing with your nipples, and fucking you relentlessly was almost more than you could take. You’d never been pleasured like this before, your other sexcapades being boring and too slow paced for you. You ran your nails down his still covered chest, the black blazer now disregarded by Negan, the crisp white shirt still on his frame, he looked so sexy in it. The thought that he just had to have you, he wasn’t even concerned about undressing made you feel so desirable. He leaned down and kissed you again, biting your lower lip in the process.

"Fuck me harder, please!” You moaned out, his lips now going to work on your neck, quickly finding your sensitive spots. Negan groaned appreciatively, speeding his rhythm up to meet your sordid demands. “Hang on, doll. I need to see that pretty ass of yours.” He slid himself out of your pussy and you whimpered at the loss of fullness you were feeling. He rolled you over, pulling your torso up so that your ass was in the air. He ran his hands over your ass, giving a slap to the supple skin, sliding himself back into your pussy. “Oh fuck yes, Negan!” You said happily, delighting in the new sensation, his cock hitting all the right spots deep inside you.

He rested his hands on your hips, thrusting hard into your pussy. He ran a hand over your ass again, raised it, and gave another hard slap. “Fuck! Do it again.” You begged, the dirty movements only increasing your pleasure. He raised his hand and smacked you again, his hand then running through your hair and pulling tightly on it, angling your head back. “Does that feel good, doll?” he asked. "Do you like that? Being such a good girl for me.” He praised you, his deep tone causing your body to light on fire. “Oh yeah, fuck yeah.” You managed to whimper out, the sound of your skin slapping against him as you met his thrusts. “You want me to do it again? Your ass is going to be red raw when I’m finished with you doll.” Negan whispered in your ear, continuing to thrust hard into your pussy. “Yes, please. Oh please!” You felt desperate, the pain mixed with pleasure was just too much for you to handle. “Beg for it, doll. Beg me.” he said, pulling your hair harder. “Oh fuck, please smack me again! Negan, you feel so fucking good inside me!” Negan kept slamming himself into you as he smacked your ass again.

"Fuck doll, I’m getting close, this pussy is heavenly.” he said a few minutes later, pumping your pussy hard. "Where’d you want me?”

"On my chest, all over me, please?” You requested, Negan thrusting faster as he chased his release. “You are a dirty fucking girl, you know that doll?” He pulled out of you, positioning yourself to the ground quickly as he leant just above you on his knees.

"Come on me baby, please! I need it.” you said, pushing your breasts up towards him with your inner arms, your hands grabbing his shaft, finishing him off. “Fuck yes, doll! You look amazing like that, so needy for my cum.” he choked out just before his climax hit him. Negan’s load came pulsating out, all over your chest, heavy breaths escaping both of you. You began to swipe his release on off your chest, sucking the salty taste off your fingers, his eyes locked on to the dirty sight in front of him, his face lighting up. He helped you up, back onto the bed, giving you another kiss as he did. “You want me to stay doll?” he asked.

You debated internally for a few moments. You knew that he should probably go, the thought of someone catching you in bed with your ex fiancés father, would cause many questions that you wanted to avoid, but when he looked at you with those eyes of his, you caved. How could you kick out the man who had just shattered your world in the space of a hour? “You can stay, I want a repeat performance in the morning.” You chuckled, wrapping yourselves within the sheets of the bed. “Really doll, he’s a fucking fool. His loss, my fucking gain.” He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest, leaving small kisses on your forehead.

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gauloiseblue · 23 hours

Text

And at every table / I'll save you a seat

(Gaz × Reader)

[+18 | Adult Content MDNI]

Tags: fluff, smut, family issue, friends to lovers, slow burn, [A bit of warning] tradition view on virginity and marriage, piv sex

Words: 9.8k

It all started with a little request

"Will you take my virginity?"

He's taken aback by the ask, but he quickly regains his composure.

"No." He replied.

You look at him for a while, before you mutter out, "I understand."

"Wait," He grabs your hand before you could turn around, "Let's talk about it."

He observes the hesitation rising from your face when you look away, "I don't think you'd understand."

"You haven't tried yet." He smiles gently, "Try me, (Name)."

"... It's a long story."

"I got time for it." He told you, "Tea?"

With that, he invites you into his place.

You're silent when he offers you a seat, and he lets you sit with your thoughts as he works on the drink. It's not your first visit to his apartment, since you've been here quite often. But you never came with a somber mood, and he didn't know what to say to cheer you up.

He hands you the cup, before he pours the tea from the pot. He hears you murmur something, and though he doesn't quite catch it, he can roughly guess it.

"So," He began as he sat down across the table, "Would you mind telling me why you suddenly wanna lose it?"

You had blown the steam away from the cup, before you took a sip. He watches you take your time with the drink, until you're ready to talk.

"I know that I said I'm keeping myself until marriage, but I don’t think it's possible now." You bit your lip, as you fidgeted with the handle of your cup, "Because I'm going to be wed to someone I didn't know."

He raises his brows at your statement, "That practice still exists today?"

"Yes, it still does." You begin to explain the outline of the story. "My family came from a community that still holds an orthodox belief. My parents aren't conservative, but they can't escape the tradition either. When they told me about the engagement, I begged them to call it off, yet they asked me to go with it. But I don't want that. I don't want to be trapped in a loveless marriage." Your eyes shift as you hold back tears, "I know that they love me, if they don't, I won't be here. Away from home."

You quickly wipe your cheek before you continue, "The man who'll be my husband is highly respected in the community, but he's at the same age as my mother. I don't know why he asked for my hand, we barely talked. But for the last few months, he began to send me gifts. It's customary for a suitor to give the girl presents as a way of courting. Anyway, I won't bore you with the details."

He waits for you to gather your thoughts, before you start again.

"To be a bride, it's common for a girl to go through a ceremony, to see if the girl is suitable for marriage. I have to fulfill all of certain criteria to be recognized as a proper fiancée." You snort when you mention it, "Ky, you're a smart person, you must've known what that means."

He crosses his arms when you subtly ask him to make the conclusion. "If you fail the virginity test, then you're ineligible to be a bride."

"There are other factors that can annul the engagement, but yes, purity is the most important aspect for the bride to have." You stated, "If I fail that test, then I can be free from the custom."

"Won't you be shamed for… not being pure?" He carefully asked.

"Yes, but It's better than the other option."

You went quiet after the confession, as if you've retreated back to your shell.

He gazes at you long and closely, while a sense of familiarity comes to rest on him. The way you carry yourself reminds him of the old you—who couldn't look him in the eyes when you both were strangers.

"Say," He begins, as he rubs his face, "If I were to help you, what then?"

"Nothing, we can pretend it never happened."

"You know it's not possible, right?" He frowned, "We can't go back like we used to, at least I can't see it that way."

"I know, but I don’t have a lot of choices." You replied with a sigh, "I can never sleep with a stranger, and I can't do it myself either." You told him, "I have to lose it somehow, but I don’t know how. And the reason I asked you this because you seem to have a lot of experience, so—"

You stop when he presses his hand against his lips. While it's impossible to tell if he blushes or not, you swear you see a red tint on his cheeks.

"You're not…?"

He scratches his neck, as he coyly replies, "My ma raised me well, (Name). Of course I'd save myself before marriage."

"Oh—" You cover your mouth in shock, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked you—"

"It's alright." He smiles, "How much time you have left until the ceremony?"

"About a month." You answered.

"I'll help you then." He said with such ease, that it made you stare at him wide-eyed, "But let me take you to a date first."

"What," You gulped, "What do you—Why? I thought… you said no…?"

"I hate seeing you like this, and I don't want you to resort to one night stand." He told you, "Besides, you didn't force me into this."

"But I did make you sympathize with me." You shook your head, "That's why you changed your mind."

"I said no because I knew you're saving yourself for marriage."

"But you said that you did too."

"That makes us even then." He tilts his head, "I'll take yours, and you'll take mine."

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out of it. Not because you're at loss for words, rather, you have too many questions in your head.

"You can decide how many dates we'll go before you decide if you want to do it." He reaches out to squeeze your hand, "How's that sound?"

Although you're still unsure at that time, you can't help but nod at the offer.

The first time he takes you on a date, it's on Sunday, 07:20 PM, at an independent cinema. He phoned you earlier, telling you that they're going to play an old romantic film.

"I thought you like mystery?"

"Yeah, but you wouldn't pick that on the first date." He grins, "Besides, the movie has Binoche in it."

By the time you arrive at the cinema, you spot him talking to another man by the ticket booth. He turns his head when he hears your call, before the other man leans to the side to see you.

"You're early." You told him.

"I could say the same to you." He said with a smile, "The movie's starting in 10, c'mere."

He extends his hand towards you, and you take it with a little bit of apprehension.

The man whistles when he drapes his arm around your shoulders, "I see ya bringing a date tonight."

"Yeah," He turned to you, "Ain't she pretty?"

His friend chuckles when your face turns red, "Can't argue with that."

"Well, we'll talk later. I'm gonna show her around for a bit." He gives the man a pat on his arm, "You still have that shrine of yours?"

"'Course!" He warmly retorted, "Wouldn't close it for ya."

He mutters something back to him, and the man gives him a thumb up. When the two of you part with him, you ask him about the shrine.

"It's just a room full of merchs." He explains, "He's a movie fanatic, so when he liked a film, he'd find any of the collectibles."

"Like graphic t-shirts?"

"More than that." He grins, "You'll see."

At the end of the hall, there's a door smaller than the theater one. He opens it for you, and guides you inside.

The room is roughly the size of a humble apartment, but it's filled with many posters and other things you have to see up close to know what they are. Your eyes scan the movie posters that are mounted on the wall, before you turn to a doll. It's a porcelain doll, adorned with old-fashioned clothes. You lift the little paper beneath it and begin to read.

"It's from 'Interview With The Vampire'." You hear him say, "It's one of the collections that he's proud of."

"I've seen that movie years ago." You murmured, while tracing the edge of the paper with your finger, "I didn't understand what the story was about, until I read the book."

"You read the novel?"

You nod, "I still read it from time to time. Oh, would you look at that." He turns his gaze towards the spot you point at, "Didn't we watch that movie together?"

"Mulholland Drive?" He rubs his chin, "Didn't you say you hate it?"

"Well, I did. But it's been stuck in my head since then." You turn on your heel and skim through the titles of the posters, "I see a lot of foreign movies but not french." You commented, "Isn't he a movie fanatic?"

"He is. Just not a hypocritical one." He replied, "He told me that many of the French directors are lecherous, and they like to put their fantasies into their movies. Guess what caused them to earn a good rating?"

"I don't know, affinity bias?"

"Precisely." He grins, "He likes a few French films though, like Plein Soleil, Amélie, Playtime,"

"Léon?" You smirk.

"He'd berate you if you ever mentioned that name in front of him."

You laugh at his playful warning, "I think I like him."

"Too bad, he already has a wife." He circles his arm around you, "Why don't I introduce you to someone else?"

You roll your eyes at him, as you're so used to hearing those words.

"Yeah, his name is Kyle Garrick, and he's currently single."

"Come on, you loved it the first time you heard it."

"Well, I did laugh at it, but it's getting old." You jest as you poke in his ribs, "Try something else, and maybe I'll fall for it."

And he gives you a response that gets you burst into a laughing fit. You shove him away as you retort back, ignoring the quiet tension that begins to hang in the air.

When the two of you enter the theater, he places his hand on your back as he guides you to your seat. Though it's just a small gesture, it sends a warm feeling to your stomach.

He settles down beside you, and his arm brushes against yours. The seats are quite broad compared to the commercial cinema, but still, there's not much space left between you and him. You try not to think about it too much, as you rest your hand on the same armrest as his.

The opening of the film with the scenery of a small town, before it shows the greetings between churchgoers and the neatly dressed gentleman. It then cuts to a standing crowd, who begins their worship with singing. You frown when you listen to the narrator, as she portrays the minds of the villagers as singular. As the hymn comes to an end, the parishioners bend down to sit on the pews, before the pastor climbs up to give a sermon. The colors of the scene contrasts with the next bit, as it cuts to two figures in the middle of the snow. The figures are covered with red hoods that they hold tightly as they walk against the wind.

The movie soon changes right after the wind blows the church door open. It focuses on the two figures earlier—a mother, and a daughter, as they begin to settle down at their new house.

Scene after scene, the narratives begin to blur into one, and you let yourself be immersed into the flow of the film. Instinctively, your body leans forward as you watch the chocolate and the store begin to take form. Yet in doing so, you missed the look your friend gave.

When the first conflict happens, you can't help but show your dislike towards the man—the well-dressed man from the beginning. But it soon dissipates when the woman invites her guest inside.

They talk for a little while, and the way she—her guest behaves, the clumsiness that she shows—that makes her look like a cornered cat, it almost looks surreal, as if you're watching yourself from the future scope. You press your hand against your lips, as the crease between your eyes deepens.

Perhaps it's just the right moment, or perhaps your thoughts spill over into his, that he decides to push your head gently onto his shoulder.

You were taken aback by the gesture, but you welcomed it. You murmur something to him, as you wrap your hand around his arm.

"What?" He asked in a low tone.

"Nothing." You told him while hiding your smile.

Kyle Garrick. You wonder if kind has always been his middle name. If it's not kind, then it must be thoughtful. It must be nice, to receive such affection from a man like him. In the midst of thoughts cartage, you begin to ponder, if it's alright for you to keep them from someone who's more deserving.

At the end of the movie, you slip your hand from his arm, as you stand up from your seat. You still remember the way he understands, and doesn't push further. He keeps the rest of the night in a lighthearted mood, though his hand lingers on you a little longer, and his gaze doesn't stray further from you, even just a little bit.

That night, you lay down on your bed with your thoughts as your lullaby. It doesn't help you sleep, but it does keep you company for the night.

The next day, you ask him if he's free on Friday.

It's curious how fast he responded back, considering that he still got jobs to do, particularly reports. When you read the message, you bite your lips as you type a new one.

'Wanna have dinner together?'

A new chat pops up in a second.

'Sure'

And another one after.

'When?'

'Today' You reply, 'Takeouts?'

'Let me cook for ya'

And it's settled.

When you show up on his doorstep, he opens it up the first time you ring the bell.

"Hey," He greets you with a grin, and you notice a red stain on his shirt, "Come in."

"Smells good." You commented as you stepped in, "What are you cooking?"

"Bolognese." He replied, "I haven't decided on the pasta yet. What do you want? Pappardelle or spaghetti?"

"Fusilli?" You said, before a smile betrays your lie, "Anything's fine, really."

"Pick a color then. Yellow or blue?"

"Yellow."

"Pappardelle then."

You thought it's just a random decider, until you saw the color of the packaging.

"Guess you're used to people who say it's up to you." You remarked while you climbed on the bar stool.

"You can say that." He chuckles as he drops the pasta into the pot.

"Were they your dates?"

"Pshh, no. Just my little brothers and sister. You know the story."

"I know." You trailed off and looked away, "But you must've had those moments in your dates."

"Like what you did earlier?" He smirks and you groan at him.

"Come on, you know I'd never complain about your choice."

"I know, that's why I like you."

"You always say that."

The conversation ends with a quiet chuckle, as he goes back to watch over the boiling water. You sense a reply from him that should be laid bare, but he left it at surmise.

"Dinner's ready." He announced, as he lifted up the plates from the counter. You follow him to the dining table, and you pull a seat while he places the dishes on the table.

As the two of you dig in, you quietly bite on the broad pasta. You might not be aware of it, but you always chew on your food longer when you're preoccupied with your mind.

You hear his voice as you snap out of your thoughts, but not clear enough for you to grasp.

"What?"

"It's alright if you wanna back down." He repeated, as he swirled the pasta with his fork, "I agreed to help you because you asked me to, but I know it might make things awkward between us, so."

"Oh, that's not—it's not about that, it's just," You chewed on your lip, "It's just that, when I think about you, I can't help but think that… I'll end up stealing something from you." You shook your head, "You could wait for the right person, you're not obligated to help me—"

"Well, I want to."

"I know, that's why I feel bad because I knew you wouldn't hesitate to help." You frown, "You're too kind for me, Ky. Sometimes I'm scared that I might get the wrong idea."

You almost jump when he holds your hand, and witness the fortitude that reflects in his eyes. "Go ahead then, go on and get the wrong idea. Because it might be true after all."

The way he said it—with a clear, unmistakable voice, drags you into silence. You can't find the words to say, nor the right response for his statement. While you're not entirely sure about the truth, you can see the trace of it on his face.

Your throat begins to tighten, and you try to swallow down whatever's in the way.

You know that he's hopeful that you'd give him some kind of clarity, but you don't. You couldn't.

After the dinner, you don’t extend your visit as you excuse yourself from staying.

"Let me take you home."

You shake your head, "I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

You shoot him a smile, "Yes, don't worry about me."

He seems hesitant for a moment, but it disappears the moment you pull him into a hug.

"I'll call you when I'm home."

He picks up the phone at the second ringtone, and asks you if you're home. You give an affirmative answer, before the line turns silent.

The words that had wrapped around your throat came back to the surface. They beg to be let out of your tongue, but you bite them down. Not now. Not yet.

The call ends not long after, as you both say goodnight. As you sit down on the vanity stool, you look at the reflection of you in the mirror. It's the shape that you've known so well, and yet, you don't recognize it at the same time. Has your face already been like this? Is this what he always sees whenever you're around?

Absent-mindedly, you reach up to touch your lips. What would you taste like, if he ever kissed you?

Unfortunately, you can only imagine for now.

Four days would pass, and you soon find yourself waiting for the bell. He had messaged you earlier, telling you that he'll pick you up at your place.

The destination of your date is still unknown, since you only asked him to take you to somewhere quiet. Somewhere you can talk without the presence of curious ears. Of course, the first thought that came to your mind is the privacy of your home, but he got another idea, and kept it as a surprise.

"Bring a jacket with you." He told you on the phone, "You might need it."

But you don't know how cold it'll be, so you stick with a cardigan.

When he gets to your place, he doesn't ring the bell. Instead, you hear your phone rings, before a honk of a car announces his arrival. You walk out of your place and lock the door behind.

"Where are we going?" Is the question you asked him after you got into his car.

"You'll find out." He replied with a grin.

He doesn't give you any clue, other than the paper bag on the back seat. He also told you that it's a one-hour drive, so it's alright if you want to rest your eyes.

"I'm fine." You said, as you turned on the radio.

The ride is predominantly filled with songs, and the occasional chat between you and him.

On the other day, you either wouldn't stop talking, or you'd sit in comfortable silence. But that morning, both options seem unreachable.

"I'm sorry." You uttered quietly.

"What?"

"Sorry that I dragged you into this." You muse, "And I'm sorry that I made such a big deal out of it. I made things worse, didn't I?"

"Why'd you say that?"

"Because things have already changed between us, even when we haven't done anything."

"You think so?"

"Yes," You divulged, "When you said those things, I couldn't help but think that maybe you really meant it. But then again, you never told me anything before. Anything that could… indicate something."

"Are you sure?" You frown at his reply, "Think again, (Name)."

"What—?"

The car comes to a halt, and you snap your head towards the window. The usual view of the city has been replaced with trees. You stare at the board near the entrance, and you notice the words 'National Park' on it.

"We're here." He stated while unbuckling the seat belt.

You soon follow him as you push the door open. The cold air rushes inside, and makes you shiver.

He offers you his hand when you step out of the car. "Let's take a walk."

The trail that he chooses isn't as rough as you thought, and you can easily keep up with his speed. Though you knew that he slowed it down for you.

As you walk by his side, you feel a tug on your hand. It was his hand, and he wrapped it around yours. He smiles when you turn to him, and mutters out the same line he used whenever you're out with him.

"Wouldn't want to lose you here."

And it just clicked. Every piece of the puzzle just falls into the right place, and you begin to see the whole picture. He never changed at all, it was you who's changing.

"You like me."

You feel his hold tightens, before he loosens it up a second after.

"Like is an understatement."

"I'm afraid to use the stronger word."

"I know." He spoke softly, "That's why I never said it."

At the end of the path, a quiet lake waits for the two of you, providing a place for a silent conversation. The water is calm, but the breeze is colder than before. You hug yourself, trying to savor the little warmth that your cardigan provides. It doesn't take seconds before you hear a rustle, and feel yourself wrapped in a parka.

"Told you to bring a jacket." He murmured, as he held the garment for you.

His coat is warm, as if it has absorbed the heat of his skin. Your hands slip into the sleeves, before you roll up the cuffs. You watch his face as he zips up the parka, before he returns your gaze.

Perhaps it's him who leans closer, or it's you who wraps your hands around him first, but in the end, your lips meet with his. The kiss you both share is soft, and filled with longing. It's impossible to tell who's feeling it belongs to, but it envelopes around you like a mist.

When the two of you part, you smile as you murmur against his lips.

"I like you."

He softly chuckles as he cups your face, "I'm glad."

You both recognize the nuance of it, but no one speaks of it louder than a heartbeat.

I like you. What an understatement.

—

"Why do you like me?"

He lifts his head from the magazine when he hears your question.

"I could tell you all of the reasons, but at the end of the day, I simply like you."

"Really?" You roll your eyes, "Is that your way of saying you don't know?"

He lets out a small laugh, while he closes the mag. "Fine, I'll tell you." He begins, "I can't remember when it was, but we're pretty close at that time. We were just talking that night, and you asked me if I chose to be the giver because I felt uncomfortable receiving. I never thought about it, but it made sense. When I said yes, you told me, if I don't learn to receive, then I'd end up hurting other people. Because I denied their affection."

You lift your brows at the recount, "Did I really say that?"

"Yes, but it's not your words that got me the most. It's the way you broke my logic, and helped me see things from a new perspective." He stated, "It felt… nice, to be understood by you." He rubs the nape of his neck, "Well, what about you? Why do you like me?"

"I'm not sure." You pucker your lips, "I think I've always liked you. Because you're thoughtful, and it's something that's easier to say than done."

"Just that?"

"What? You want more?"

"Yeah," He smirked, "Go on."

You look at him long and hard, before you decide, "No."

"Why?"

"I'd say something embarrassing."

"Like what?"

"... I'm not telling."

He jumps on the sofa as he seizes your body. You squeal when he digs his fingers on your waists, and you shout, "Cut it out!"

He chuckles when you try to slap his hand away and fail, "C'mon, tell me." He grins, while his hands don't stop tickling you.

"Stop—I'm not telling—!"

When he had you pinned down, you kicked around to get him off you. Which, unfortunately, ends up knocking the empty glass on the table. You both watch in horror as the glass falls off the surface, and into the floor.

But it doesn't shatter. Instead, it bounces twice, before it rolls in a half circle. When it stops moving, it takes about five seconds before the two of you burst into laughter.

"That's the second time you almost broke it."

"Sorry." You muttered through your giggle, "But whose fault was it?"

"Me." He grinned, before slowly bent down to kiss you.

Just like the other kisses you've shared, it goes on for more than a minute. He gently guides you as he cups your cheeks. Your arms find their way around his neck, and keep him close to you.

He leans his forehead against yours, as he catches his breath. You observed the way his chest rises and falls while you follow the same rhythm. Maybe you soften at the sight of him, or maybe a kiss'd really loosen up someone's tongue, that's why the words fall out of your mouth so easily.

"I like your kisses."

He raises his head as he turns his gaze on you. "Was that the thing you're embarrassed to admit?"

You give his shoulder a punch.

"Hey." He retorted with a chuckle, "'M just kidding."

He presses his lips on your cheek, before he lays down on your side. You shift your body to give him space, and settle your head on his arm, while the other one is wrapped around you.

"Comfy?"

You nod, "You're warm."

"Glad to be your heater."

You bury your face into his chest as you giggle.

"I just wish you're portable," You jest, "So I could use you whenever I'm cold."

"Who says I'm not portable?"

"Well, you can't be with me 24/7."

"Careful what you wish for." He smirked.

You raise your brow at him, "Is that a warning?"

"Maybe."

"Mmm," You rested your finger on your chin, "Didn't sound like one."

"Really?" He teases, "Then you won't mind if I keep you here for the night."

"I'm busy tomorrow, so no." You hold your chuckle when you see him pout, "But I'm free next weekend, you can keep me until Monday if you want."

A glint of mischief crosses his eyes, as he pulls you into a kiss.

"I can't wait."

But waiting doesn't feel longer than you expect, since you meet him for dinner almost everyday. If one of you couldn't make it, you both would be on the call that night.

Talking has been a part of your relationship, even when the two of you still carried the friends title. You could talk with him for hours, and bring up every topic into it. Doesn't matter how random or strange. But there was a line that you both couldn't cross, something that kept the two of you in circles. And you thought it'd stay that way, until you stepped into the other side.

It's a wonder how a familial issue could push your relationship to this point, since you wouldn't think twice about him for the sake of friendship. Now that you've crossed the line, you have nothing to hide from him.

While it might be a good thing, it also leads you to unknown territories. When you're with him, you can no longer ignore the tension that fills the room. Any time that he kissed you, or held you tight in his arms, you couldn't help but think if this would be it. This would be the right time for it. But you couldn't bring yourself to ask.

Maybe that's the reason why—after the 2:01:31 mark on the call, you bring up the obvious question to light.

"Y'know Ky," You start, "I don't have much experience with sex, and neither do you. So how exactly are we gonna do it?"

The line goes silent for a moment, before you hear him draw a breath in. "Are you afraid it'll hurt?"

"No—I mean, yes. But that's not my point." You sigh, "I just—I don't know, I feel like I need to learn about it before getting to the act."

There's a subtle hint of a rustle that you could only guess coming from the papers, "It'll definitely help if we do some research beforehand."

"But where do we start?" You asked, "Porn?"

"I wouldn't recommend that. It's… unrealistic."

"What then? 'A guide to sex' book? 'Sex for dummies'?"

You catch the sound of his chuckle from the speaker. "Only grandmas would read that."

"I would read that if it helps me prepare."

He hums, and your ear picks up the sound of clink, like a metal is placed against a wood. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"How far have you gone with your partner in the past?"

You hum as you think back, "I think I stopped at heavy petting. I was in high school back then and I was curious. But it hurted, and I was bleeding after the session." You snort when you recall the moment, "Of course I freaked out, but when I secretly tested myself out, I found that I'm still a virgin. I could only guess that he tore something with his nail. That's why I bled."

"I see."

"What about you?" You asked, "How far have you gotten with it?"

"Same as you." He responded, "Fingering, oral, hand job, all the foreplay stuff."

You bite your lip as you hear his tone becomes heavier with each word, something that you notice whenever you dive into a risky topic.

"Should we give it a try?"

There's a pause from the other side of the call, before you receive a reply. "You sure you want it?"

"Yes." You breathe out, "We gotta start somewhere."

Your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, as you wait for him to answer.

"Alright." He mused, and you felt the warmth creeping up from your lower belly. "Is the plan still on?"

"What plan?"

"You staying over for the weekend?"

You smile against the phone as you reply, "Of course."

"I'll be waiting then."

Friday evening, you arrive at his door with a bag of clothes and other necessities. When the bell rings, it takes about three seconds before the door swings open.

He greets you in the usual manner, except this time he speaks in a softer tone.

"Hey." He smiles upon seeing you, "Come in."

He steps aside when you walk in, before he takes the bag from your hand. You mutter a small 'thank you', and wait for him in the living room while he puts your things aside.

"You want something to drink?" He offered, but you shook your head.

"I'm fine."

You watch him come near you, before he bends down to his knees. You raise your brows when he tugs your hand towards him, and presses a kiss onto your palm.

"Can we talk?"

"About what?" You asked.

"Your boundaries." He squeezed your hand gently, "What's your preferences, what you're not comfortable with,"

"Oh." You look down to your lap to hide your blush, "I don't have any preference yet, I think." You shrug, "I have to experience it to know what I like or dislike, but I think I'm fine with everything you do. Just… don't treat me rough, because I don't think I can handle it."

"Wouldn't dream of hurting you." He pecks on your cheek. "Come,"

You stand from your seat as he pulls you up, and your body follows him naturally as he drags you with him. As he closes the bedroom door behind, your heart leaps when he lifts you up with his arms to kiss you. Your legs wrap around his waist, while you keep your hands on his chest.

When he lays you down on the bed, you push his body away for a little as you mumble, "My, aren't you eager."

He observes your face before he chuckles, "You don't know how long I've waited for this."

You moan when he presses his kiss on your neck, and you feel his hand slip under your garment. Soon, the elastic band of your underwear is dragged down on your skin, and you instinctively close your thighs together.

"Let me taste you, (Name)."

He tugs your pants down until they reach your ankles, he takes his time to unhook them from your feet, before pushing your legs apart. You call his name as a protest, but any attempt to cover yourself from him is useless.

"Ky—" You stare at him wide-eyed as he lowers his head to your core, to the point that you can feel his breath against your labia. Your body tenses up when he gets the first taste of you, before he buries his tongue into your core.

"Tell me if I hurt you." He told you, and waited until you nodded to continue.

You gasp when he presses his tongue against your clit—not out of pleasure, but foreign feeling as the rough texture of his tongue latches on your nub. Your hand shoots up to grab his hair, while your legs clamp on his head. He grunts when you squirm away, and links his arms around your thighs to keep you still.

At first, you only feel a strange sensation every time his tongue swipes against your bundle of nerves, but soon it builds up into a familiar surge. Warmth begins to spread from your lower region, and you muffle a moan when he flicks his tongue on your sensitive clit.

"Ky—!" You hissed when it hit the right spot, "Keep going—"

Your hips bucks involuntarily as he sucks on the swelling bud, it sends an electricity through your body, before his lips detach from you. You whine at the loss of contact, but it doesn't take a second before his elastic muscle returns to its previous place.

The grip on his hair tightens as he picks up the pace, and soon the pleasure starts to coil inside your stomach. Your brows are knitted as you focus on his tongue, chasing after the high that's been hanging in front of you. It's not until you tilt your hips, that you finally reach it.

You cry out as your back arches, your eyes snap open as the wave of pleasure hits you. It was different, more satisfying than what you did on lonely nights. As you slowly come down, your body relaxes under his touch.

When he reaches up to kiss you, you chuckle as you taste yourself from his lips. "And you told me you're a virgin." You mused.

"I don't need to lose it to be good at oral."

You roll your eyes and hold him off by his chest, "Yeah right."

He seems taken aback when you push him to the side, before straddling him between your legs. Your hands work on his pants, as you loosen up the drawstring. "What are you doing?" He muttered out.

"Returning the favor." You replied with a smirk, while you tugged down his pants.

You've seen the outline of his member when he's still dressed, but now that you strip him off, you finally get the full view of it.

You sense his gaze on you as you stare at his cock. Your hand reaches out to touch the tip, and it twitches under your fingertips.

"Are you just gonna stare?"

"Patience." You shot him a teasing look, "I was just admiring."

He props himself up to watch you bend down, taking his length into your mouth. You look at him through your lashes, as you slowly drag your tongue along the shaft. Your fingers wrap around his base, and begin to give it a pump.

His breath becomes shallower with each stroke of your hand, while you wrap your lips around his cock. The tip feels hot on your tongue, as if it's filled with impatience. He groans as you sink your mouth deeper, "Keep going, baby."

You perk up at the nickname he used, but it needs to wait before you can bring it up to him, since your mouth is occupied at the moment.

He places a hand on your head, and runs his fingers through your hair before they settle on your crown. You grunt when he begins to rock his hips gently, while his hand gives you no room to pull back. He's careful enough not to push too deep, but he still overwhelms you.

"That's it—" He panted, brows knitted together as he focused on you. "Fuck—"

His heavy breath, his gentle grip on your hair send warmth through your body. It's not the first time you've done this, but it's the only time you felt desired. He's eager, but he's careful at the same time. He doesn't rush things, he fixates on the moment instead. When you place your hand on his thigh, he slows down as he loosens up his grip on you.

"You alright?"

You nod before you pull away from him.

"I want to ride you."

His brows are raised as you climb on top of him, slowly lowering yourself onto his lap. He takes a sharp breath when your core touches the base of his member, leaving a wet trail as you grind on him. You hear a quiet groan from his sighs, and it becomes heavier each time you pick up the pace.

You bite your lip as you feel your core throb at the sight beneath you. The way his head digs into the pillow, half-lidded eyes and panting, and the way his muscles tense as he chases after pleasure. His hands settle on your waists, keeping you from moving too far from the right spot. Your breath comes out as a huff when the friction starts to get to you. It almost feels real, as if he's really inside you.

"I'm close." He chokes out a moan, and you feel his fingers dig into your skin. "(Name)—"

Your lips curl into a grin when you hear the urgency in his voice. You lean down to kiss him, and he eagerly returns the favor. You grunt against his mouth, as you struggle to move with his arms wrapped tightly around you. But he doesn't seem to mind the erratic pace, since his hips move on its own.

His body shudders and he throws his head back as he groans, loud enough that you can feel his chest rumble through your palms. His member twitches against your core, spilling the white release onto both of your and his clothes. It takes a moment for him before he registers your lips on his neck, which he tilts his head and leans his cheek against yours.

"That was…"

"Good?" You grinned as you gave him a kiss.

"Great. Amazing. Ten out of ten." He chuckles, "Are you sure you're a virgin?"

You playfully pinch his cheek while you laugh, "Shut up."

He shoots you a coy smile, before he gently rolls you down with him on the bed.

"We should take a bath."

"Later." He muttered, wrapping one arm around you.

"Come on." You protested while tugging his hand off you, "We can cuddle after that."

"Fine," He lets you go, "Let's take a shower."

And he said it in a not-so-innocent voice.

The two of you end up prolonging the bath time, as he's taking you for a second round. If he's eager the first time, the second time must be worse. Since he's got the taste of it. You knew that he's exceptional, that he's a quick-learner, but you didn't expect it'd apply to sex as well.

The thing is, you never came with fingers alone. But when he cornered you in the shower, knuckles-deep in your core, he had you screaming as the sweet shock from the orgasm went through your body. He doesn't give you much of a break, as he bends you down until your ass touches his hip. You gasp in horror when you feel the tip of his dick against your drenched hole, he teasingly rubs himself on your labia, before it slips down to your clit.

He had your thighs pressed together, which made the friction even stiffer. You groan as he begins to thrust, hitting your throbbing bud everytime without mercy. He pins both of your wrists against the wall with one hand, while he keeps your body still with the other. It's almost unfair how strong he is to hold you down like this, and how cruel he is to tease you as he whispers dirty words into your ear. By the time you come, you have no energy left, even for standing.

He catches you right before your legs give up, holding you up while he sneaks a hand under the back of your thighs. You yelp when he props you up in his arms, carrying you out of the bathroom.

You land on the bed with a bounce, and receive no privilege to get up as he holds your legs together, before placing them against his shoulder. The color in your face is drained the moment his length rests on your thigh, fervent and heavy.

"I hope you're not tired yet," He grins, and you swear you see horns growing from his head the moment he says it, "Because I'm nowhere done with you."

—

Kyle Fucking Garrick.

You take back what you said about his middle name. It's not kind or thoughtful, it's fucking Prick.

It should've been obvious to you, after all the gossip you heard from your friends about him. Something that you thought as a baseless fact, a Lavater-physiognomy type of bullshit, but somehow they got it right. He's not as innocent as you defended him to be. He is freaky, and he's good at keeping it a secret.

After he exhausted you the night before, he decided that the best way to wake you up was with his mouth. Your clit was already swollen from yesterday's activity, and he abused it again in the morning. You stirred in your sleep, before your eyes snapped open at the sharp tug on your sensitive bud.

"G'mornin'." He greeted you the moment you woke up, still disoriented. "How's your sleep?"

You narrowed your eyes, as you tried to turn your vision focused. "Wha—" You slurred.

"Shh." He pushed you down to the bed, while his hand worked its way to your fold. "Let me take care of you, baby."

And thus you started your day with an orgasm.

Of course it's only the beginning, since it's him that you're talking about. He could make you faint in the bathroom if you didn't lock the door behind, and he could certainly numb your mind with his fingers if you didn't cut two apples for breakfast. But once you ran out of excuses, you're pretty much doomed.

While you knew he'd stop right away if you told him so, you couldn't bring yourself to say it. Because once he puts his hand on you, you just melt. The irritation that you carry in mind dissolves the moment he wraps you in his arms, and every curse you hold on your tongue comes out as a whimper, as his mouth latches onto your nape.

It's a game of self-will, and he plays it underhandedly. You both know what you want, but no one speaks of it, no one takes the initiative. You grit your teeth as frustration begins to take over you. It's pretty clear he wants you to say it, with the excuse that it's yours to decide. But he lures you with sweet words, and waves your much-needed release in front of you. Close enough for you to see, but far away from your reach.

And finally, after three neglected orgasms, you swallow your ego and beg. "Please Ky—" You cried out, "Please, just fuck me—"

His hand ceases to move, as he pulls it out of your sopping core. You whine at the loss of contact, before he muffles it with his kiss.

The trip to his bedroom is quite messy, with a lot of thrown clothes and sloppy kisses. When you find yourself on his bed again, you crawl up to give him some space. He follows after you, and presses his lips against yours with impatience. Faintly, you hear the sound of a wrapper being ripped, before he pulls away to roll down the rubber on his length.

He comes back to your side, locking his lips with yours again, while he slots his hips between your legs. Your hands find the purchase on his back as you cling to him, digging your fingers into his skin the moment you feel his tip against your hole.

A gasp escapes your lips when he pushes himself in, stretching your pussy open with his dick.

"Shit, you're too tight." He hissed, as your walls tightened around his glans.

Your face contorts in pain, as he tries to squeeze himself deeper.

"No good." He mused, pulling himself out of you. You whimper as your hole clenches around nothing. "On your side, baby."

He gently rolls you to the side, sliding his arm below your head as he lays behind you. He places a hand under your cheek, and guides your lips back to his. You wince when you feel the nudge against your core, before it slowly sinks deeper into you.

It doesn't hurt much, compared to what you endured earlier. But it still stings, and you smack your palm against his hip when he begins to thrust. "Ky—" You moaned against his lips, gripping onto his skin as you felt yourself stuffed to the brim.

"Just a little more, baby." He places a kiss on your shoulder, while his hands find their way to wrap around your body. "Just a little more."

No words could form in your tongue, as your mouth snaps open at the steady thrust of his cock. It was slow, torturous, and left you wondering if you've underestimated his size.

But it soon comes to a stop, as his lower stomach touches the curve of your bottom. Your heart is beating against your chest, and you try to catch your breath while he showers you with kisses. The push of his hips comes to a halt, and you take it as a chance to rest. You lean your head back to his shoulder, giving him access to your neck, which he soon decorates with love marks.

"You alright?" He murmured, tenderly stroked your arm.

You hum as an answer. "You can move now."

"You sure?"

"Yes." You breathe out, "Please."

You sense a hesitation in his touch, before he presses a kiss on your temple.

"Tell me if it hurts."

You nod, giving his forearm a squeeze as a reassurance.

He shifts your body closer to him, readjusting the position to make it more comfortable. You raise your head a bit while he moves, before he guides you back to his arm. A grunt escapes your lips the moment he drags his member out, before he thrusts it back in. Your core flutters around him, as the numbness slowly fades into pleasure.

Perhaps your body is still sensitive from all the teasing he did, but you can't deny that he's good. Every stroke of his cock just hits right, as it grazes you in the place where his fingers couldn't reach. You grip his arm when you feel his pace quickens, filling the room with the wet slaps of the skins. And when his tip nudges the tender part of you, your body reacts in a way you don't expect.

He seems to notice it, as he lifts his head up to see your face. "Does that feel good?" He whispered in your ear, and you yelped when he snapped his hips against yours.

"Oh God—" You scrabble at his body, trying to find something to grab on. "Do that again."

"Gladly."

A warning comes up to your throat, before it dies down as soon as he moves. You squirm against his strong grip, digging your nails into his thigh like a claw machine. When his cock grazes the right spot within you, you cry out a strangled moan. And the second time he does it, the suspicions you had in mind are all erased. He's no longer teasing you, because now he really intends to make you scream.

When he rolls on top of you, you feel your legs being spread apart with his knees. Stretching your pussy open for him to go deeper. With him on top of you, and your stomach flat on the bed, you have no room to crawl away.

His hand snakes around your shoulder, propping you up into a half-arched position. A whimper comes out of your mouth the moment he slams himself into you, while his lips are busy with your neck. Niping and sucking on your reddening skin. Your hand reaches up to the back of his head, gripping the curls of his hair as you moan.

"I'm close." You hissed, "Kyle—"

"I know, baby." He presses a kiss on your nape, "I know."

He raises your hips slightly, before slipping his hand between your thighs. Your body jerks when he touches your clit, rubbing it in a circle motion. The fact that it's already swollen doesn't help you either.

"Ky!" You claw his hand in panic, "I can't—I can't—"

"You can." He grunted against your ear, "Let it go, baby."

Your grip on his wrist tightens, as every muscle in your body tenses up. You could barely hold it when he fucked you slow, and now with his finger on your clit, you just break.

A loud cry fills the room as you come. Hard. Your eyes roll up, hands gripping tightly on the sheet until your fists turn pale. And for a moment, you forgot how to breathe, until you gasped for air. Which comes in the form of short and trembling puffs. The moment of bliss and numbness only descends for short seconds, before you realize he's still inside you.

The burning sensation in your core comes back to you, although weaker than before. You whimper against the sheet, as he prolongs the high you just reached. His fingers no longer slotted between your folds, as they move to grip your waist. In daze, you begin to wonder when it'll end. Until you feel a shudder from the body on top of you, and a strangled moan falls from his mouth.

He rests his head on you, catching a breath, before he slowly rolls down to the side. You watch him as he wearily pulls off the condom, and throws it aside.

The two of you lay down still, mustering the energy that's left after the laborious session. Although you doubt if it's the same case for him, since he has no trouble getting up to fetch the tissue box.

As he wipes himself off, you mutter out with a low voice, "You've ruined me for other men."

He turns his head to you, before a grin spreads on his face. "Already thought about leaving?"

You know from his tone that he's not serious, but neither of you can carry the usual banter. At least not now.

"You know what I mean." You mused.

His face softens, as he bends down to kiss you. "I know."

You smile against his lips, and carefully shift your body until you lay on your back. He climbs on top of you, planting each arm on your side as he latches his lips on yours. You reach up to cup his face, pulling him closer as you part your lips, giving his tongue the access to dive into your mouth deeper. The two of you relish in each other's taste, before you feel something on your thigh.

"You're hard." You let slip what you saw, and he flushed.

"Sorry." He rubbed his neck, "You just… turn me on."

You observe his face for a moment, noting how he avoids your eyes whenever he's shy. His expression, and his candid confession set something in you, as you feel the warmth in your lower belly.

"I think we can go one more time."

"Aren't you tired?"

"A little." You replied, "But it's nothing I can't handle."

His eyes search into yours for a second, before he gives in.

"Alright." He uttered, "Let me grab the condom."

—

Now that you've gotten the taste of it, you can understand why sex is often called forbidden apple. Because once you put your teeth to it, you can't go back to what you're used to. No more friendly cuddles, and no more innocent kisses that won't lead to something.

While it's easy to get swept up in the new pastime, you can't help but worry. As a lot of 'what if's fill your thoughts. You never doubt him, no. But you'll never know what the future's like. For you and him.

One day, when the two of you lounge on the couch—with your head on his chest, as it rises and falls in a slowing rhythm, you divulge a question that's been eating you up.

"What if it doesn't work?" You brood, "What if he still wants to marry me despite of everything?"

You watch the subtle change in his face as he meets your gaze. "Do you want me to come along?"

"No," You muse, "It'll make things worse."

He hums, "Have you talked to your parents?"

"... No." You looked away, as you chewed on your lip. "No, I haven't."

"I think you should." He gives your arm a squeeze, "Talk to them, maybe they'll help you."

"They didn't help me at all." You said bitterly.

"You wouldn't know that, (Name)." He let out a quiet sigh, "Parents don't usually tell what they've done for their children. And that could be the case with yours."

"They didn't stop the engagement."

"Maybe they couldn't." He replied, "Hey, look at me." He gently pulls you to face him, "I know it's hard for you, and I can't imagine how you feel about it. But your parents love you, you said it yourself." He reassured you, "Maybe they didn't stop it because they're powerless, but they knew that you'd find a way out. After all, they're the one who told you about the ceremony, right?"

While you're still frowning at him, you begin to soften up in his hold. "... Yeah, they did." You muttered.

"They knew that you're against it and you'd deliberately failed one of the tests, so they just told you what to do and what you shouldn't. It's their way to tell you which one to break, and which one you should keep in mind." He sighs, "And I hate to say it, but I'd do the same if it's the only choice I have."

Though his words have put you at ease, you can't help but sense a new doubt entering your mind. "Will they… will they be okay if I fail the test? Won't it give them a bad name?"

"I think it's the risk they're willing to take." He smiled softly, "Talk to them, (Name). You need it."

You follow his advice two days later.

You've been mulling over the talk for days, going through all of the possibilities over and over again in your mind. You've prepared for a whole speech, but it all disappears once you hear their voices. Just like that, all of your thought falls from your mouth, as they flow out like a stream.

There's a lot of talking, a lot of 'sorry's, and maybe a few of tears. But in the end, you feel better.

As the conversation slips into a mundane, but comfortable chat, you slip his name between your life update. Though you have your doubts about it, it's worth telling in spite of all.

"You should introduce him to us." Your mother chirped, "Bring him with you the next holiday, I want to meet the lucky fellow."

You chuckle as you tell her alright, but no promise.

Four days later, on the evening at the airport, you reach up to kiss him before you say the words. You almost laugh at how easy it was, to say such words with such ease. And he'd laugh with you, if he wasn't struck by it.

"I thought you're afraid to use that word."

"Not anymore." You said with a smile, "Not with you."

He seems confounded for a moment, before he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear.

"I hope you won't regret it, because I'll say that to you everyday from now on."

"Well, why don't you start now?"

You both chuckle, before he wraps his hands around you and pulls you into another kiss.

"I love you, (Name).

"Come home to me soon."

#it's finally DONEEEEE #alright. I'm officially done with long fics #it's not healthy for my sleep schedule #gaz cod #gaz mw2 #cod #call of duty #cod mw2 #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #i'm too lazy to tag more #enjoy

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