#because writer's block apparently works like that for me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

saythenametotheworld · 2 months

Text

I Can See You

Genre: workplace romance ; oneshot

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content (18+)

Notes: 16k words, song prompt was I Can See You by Taylor Swift. Had a bad writer's block and wrote this on a whim in the middle of the night while I was high on Speak Now TV and fueled with cold coffee. Synopsis: After a wild, unforgettable hookup with Jung Jaehyun, you were convinced you'd never see him again. Apparently, you were wrong because why is he strutting into your office as your newest coworker?

"So, are you going to Tiff's birthday party? We'll go to that new bar downtown. The one that recently had a big opening."

You shook your head without glancing at your coworker, Jenna. Your eyes were focused on the task flashing on your computer screen. "I have plans with my sister."

"I see. That's too bad. You haven't gone out with us in a long time. I thought I'd be able to convince you this time."

You gave her a quick glance and an apologetic smile. "Sorry. I've been busy."

Jenna narrowed her eyes at you. "Are you sure you didn't get a boyfriend? You used to be the life of the party. Now you rarely ever show up. I mean, even though your sister has moved in with you, I don't think that's enough reason to suddenly change your habits."

"No, Jen. No boyfriend. I love partying with you girls, but lately, I just don't feel like it. Do you know what I think about every day when I clock in for work?" you grumbled at her curious expression. "Clocking out."

"Oh my god, you're getting old," Jenna faked a gasp that made you laugh.

"I'll make it up to you though."

"It's fine if you don't. But do let me know when you're feeling up to it again." Jenna flashed a wide grin. "We'll tear this city apart when you do."

Your chat was cut short when you spotted your department's head walking into the office. Jean rushed to her desk and there was a quick shuffle of feet before everyone settled in their own spaces. You eyed your department head and saw that he was coming in with someone else. It must be the new analyst who's officially replacing the last one who resigned recently. That's great because Tiffany's been going through double her usual workload as the only data analyst on your team.

"Good morning, Team!" your department head greeted. "Today's a good day."

Indeed it is, you think so too. It's probably even the best day in the office, given the immaculate sight before you.

"My, my. Look at that..." Jenna discreetly tapped on your shoulder. "A tall, handsome gentleman has graced this tiny workspace with his presence."

You just shook your head dismissively despite also thinking the same thing. When your eyes flitted back to the two men standing by the doorway, you found the new guy's eyes fixated on you. It was like you had been hit by a freight train, the nerves making your heart beat wildly and your eyes widen ever so slightly when you recognized him. Jung Jaehyun.

"This is Jaehyun. Starting today, he will be joining our team as our new data analyst. I trust all of you to help him settle down and get to know our company. I also expect all of you to get along well."

"Yes, sir!"

"Welcome Jaehyun!"

"Welcome to the team!"

Your coworkers immediately gathered around him, greeting, introducing themselves, and welcoming him into the team. Jenna slides towards you in her chair.

"Is it just me or have I seen him before?"

"I'm sure it's just you," you lied, chuckling nervously as you cleared your throat.

Jaehyun was courteous, greeting every single one of you and shaking hands with everyone. You notice him lingering a little longer by your desk but pay it no mind and treat him like it's your first time meeting him. He examined your face as if he was trying to see if you really didn't recognize him at all. That look made you a little impatient, especially after flashes of memories displayed in your head; ones where he was giving you the same intense gaze while you were straddling him.

"It's nice to meet you, y/n." He smiled before leaving your desk and even after he was gone, the way he said your name replayed in your head like a broken record.

"You think he's hot, don't you?" Jenna teased. You had been trying to focus on your job but Jaehyun's desk had to be across the room, right within your line of sight. He was going through some papers with Tiffany, seemingly getting his first taste of his new job post.

He was just as dashing as you remembered, in his complete set of suit and neatly styled hair. Although when you first met, he didn't have his coat or his glasses on. He probably doesn't even need those unless he's reading or something. You know his eyesight works well, judging by how clearly he can navigate even in the dim lights of the hotel room you locked yourselves in a few months back. The memory made you squeeze your legs together, feeling a nervous but euphoric rush run down your heart to your stomach. You cleared your throat, tugging on Jenna's arm to excuse yourself.

In the restroom, you checked yourself out in the mirror and washed your hands for no reason. That night with Jaehyun was like a fever dream, almost surreal. What's even more surreal was meeting him again, even in an actual dream. After that night, you regretted escaping in the morning while he was still asleep. You regretted not giving him your phone number when he asked for it and also not asking for his. You never saw him again after that, even when you tried going back to the place you first met him. You've come to make peace with the fact that you will never be able to see him again, or even meet anyone like him. Yet now he comes strutting into your office and introduces himself as your new coworker? You can't tell if you're being rewarded or screwed over.

"So, Jaehyun..." Tiffany was beaming when she approached you and Jenna by the pantry. "I invited him to come with us tonight and he's totally down."

"You invited him?" Jenna exclaimed in disbelief and Tiffany nodded. "He's a guy."

Tiffany shrugged nonchalantly. "And? It's my birthday. Besides, Carl and the department chief are coming too so technically, this isn't a girls' night out."

That seemed to have convinced Jenna. "That makes sense."

Tiffany turned to you and started batting her eyelashes. "So, is my favorite colleague coming tonight?"

You chuckled at the flattery. "I would love to—"

"Ah," Tiffany cut you off, covering her ears. "I don't wanna hear it."

"Tiff..." you lilted but she just pouted and shook her head.

"I know exactly what comes after 'I would love to', y/n," she ranted, looking sulky. "It's my birthday."

"I know that but it's also my sister's birthday, so..."

"Oh." Tiffany softened at you after hearing your reason. "I didn't know we had the same birthday."

You just shrugged. Tiffany went on to suggest celebrating together but you declined because you've already made a reservation in a nice restaurant and you'll be with your parents. She tried charming you to agree to meet them at the bar after you're done with the family dinner and you could only say you'll try but won't make any promises. Honestly, knowing Jaehyun would be there too piqued your interest. Now you're curious to know what would happen at the bar, but you held it all in. You're simply just tired and would rather go home after a nice dinner than spend energy on socializing until late. Not even the hot specimen will be enough to convince you otherwise.

You had a hearty family dinner and Tiffany had her party. Judging by the stories on their social media, you can tell your coworkers had plenty of fun. Strangely, as you swiped through their posts, you didn't feel any ounce of envy at all. In the past, you would've been the organizer of this party. You would be coming home wasted, or not come home at all. But instead, you're wrapped in your blankets, scrolling through your phone on a Friday. You do feel bad about turning Tiffany down, but you won't swap this peaceful weekend for any rowdy, noisy, and dizzying nightclub.

Jenna was right. You're getting old. But you also know sooner or later, they'll succumb to the same lifestyle as yours right now.

Your finger pressed on one picture in Tiffany's long array of stories, the one where Jaehyun was posing with your colleagues. He stood out the most, with his pearly white skin and tall height. In his hand was a bottle of beer, his cheeks and chest were rosy due to alcohol and the rims of his eyes were pinkish. Your eyes focused on his lips, plump and red under the flash of the camera. Your mind spiraled again, falling into an immediate recollection of the one-night stand with Jaehyun. The weather was cold at the time, but Jaehyun's skin was hot against yours. His eyes were fiery with lust, staring you down and scanning your entire being as if he were trying to memorize you. His arms were strong, and so were his chest. You remember how the high came as quickly as it left, and how it was the best part of the whole thing. It was an intense night out, and an even intense hook-up. You will never forget that, nor will you be able to compare it to anything else you've had before. That night with Jaehyun was so good that it almost felt illegal; like a vice that will get you addicted to it if you're not careful.

You tossed your phone across the bed, taking deep breaths to calm your raging hormones. You would never admit to anyone, even to yourself, that part of the reason you stopped going on night outs was because of Jaehyun. Everything about him has been imprinted in your mind that nothing about your nightlife satisfied you anymore, especially not the guys who tried to humor you.

"Fuck my life," you mumbled to yourself, dreading Monday as much as you're looking forward to it. Jaehyun will be there. That idea made you feel giddy and nervous at the same time and you hate feeling overwhelmed, especially about a guy.

Monday rolled in like clockwork and you imagined yourself bumping into Jaehyun at the building entrance. Obviously, you didn't, but you did catch him inside the elevator. He gave you a small smile as you stepped into the elevator with a few other employees. You stood right next to him, your shoulders brushing slightly because the lift was packed.

"Good morning," he greeted casually and you tried not to collapse on your knees.

"Good morning, Mr. Jung."

Jaehyun's smile widened. "You act like we don't know each other."

"Pardon me, Mr. Jung," you chimed, smiling sweetly at him. "But I would rather keep things professional in the workplace. So, wherever it is that you remember knowing me from, I'd appreciate it if you don't bring it up at work."

Jaehyun pursed his lips, his brows forming a knot. "I was talking about the way you addressed me just now. You're the only one who calls me that here. Everyone else calls me by name."

You opened your mouth to retort but then closed it again and avoided his gaze. Jaehyun's grin didn't leave his lips until you were out of the elevator. That annoyed you a little, knowing he was amused about you feeling awkward. You sat in front of your computer all day, looking pissed. Jenna chatted with you several times but you just gave her the bare minimum of your attention. By 3pm, your coworkers were chatting randomly among themselves and while most of them found Jaehyun to be the most interesting one in your bunch, you drowned in your own work instead of participating. You feel awkward enough seeing him around, and even more so because you know you want him. You want all of him. But given that your office has a rule against dating coworkers, you can only dream. You wonder if you can take more of this agonizing situation, and you wonder how much his presence would affect your daily office life.

You must be delusional or have high self-esteem because, for the next few days, you were convinced that Jaehyun was as antsy as you were. Several times you caught him staring at you intently, with his forehead creasing and his lips pursed, not even avoiding your gaze like he meant for you to notice him staring. Even around your coworkers, you can see him watching you with those eyes. You're not oblivious to the meaning behind those gazes and you're not ignoring them either. You acknowledged them, every single one. You gave him the same exact look with the same exact intention. Each time you brushed past each other, regardless of how close or far apart you are, he always made sure to graze your arm, or your elbow, or your shoulder; especially your shoulder when you're wearing something that exposes them. Each time your name is mentioned in your small office, his eyes follow the direction of your desk. And your desks just have to be positioned right across each other's. Far apart, but face to face.

You know he wasn't being discreet and you hoped he would because sooner or later, people will start to notice how he paid attention to you. You can tell by the way your colleagues would randomly tug him because he was in a daze staring at you, and the way someone would always clear their throat to prompt him.

One night, during overtime, when you had to cram some paperwork for the monthly audit, you were alone in the pantry making coffee for yourself when Jaehyun walked in. You held your breath for a moment, giving him a nervous smile before reverting your attention to the coffee machine.

"Evening," he greeted, his voice deep and throaty, damn attractive.

"Evening," you greeted back, watching him reach for a mug from the cupboard. He stood there with you, waiting for the brewing coffee, but your senses were on high alert because of the proximity. Your shoulders were almost touching and his hand on the counter sat close to yours.

"Seeing any light at the end of this tunnel?" he asked, referring to the loads of work everyone had piled up.

"The only light I'm seeing is daylight. We'll be here until the morning," you huffed, sagging your shoulders as you glanced down your wristwatch. It's 11pm but you eventually stopped caring about the time when you saw his pinky finger linking with yours.

"Well, if you need a hand, just let me know."

Your eyes were fixated on your linked fingers but you still replied. "I'm sure you have plenty on your plate as it is."

"How about you try not to decline someone's good intentions," he chimed, letting go of your finger to properly place his hand over yours. "Especially if it's mine?"

"I don't think you mean good intentions, Jaehyun," you purred, challenging his bluff. His lips lifted into a smile, revealing a set of dimples that would have looked cute if only he wasn't staring at you like he was ready to devour you at any moment.

"As long as we're on the same page, I don't care how you label my intentions."

You stared at each other for a while, conversing with your eyes and seemingly coming to an agreement. Your self-restraint had always been thin, but right now it's at its thinnest and your rationality is working hard to remind you that you're in the office and anyone can walk in on you anytime.

The coffee machine beeps, signaling that the coffee is ready. You drew your hand from under his hold and were about to grab the kettle when Jaehyun yanked your hand back and pulled you into his arms, locking you there.

"Jaehyun!" you scolded in a hushed voice. He lets you go after a soft whisper in your ear that had his lips brushing on the sensitive skin. The pantry door opens and you jolted a little in surprise. Jenna lets out a big huff.

"If I die today, know that I loved working with all of you," she said dramatically.

Jaehyun chuckled, grabbing the kettle and pouring himself a coffee. "Hang in there," he comforted Jenna as he poured some on your mug too.

He left after that while you stood rooted on your spot, your mind in shambles because of Jaehyun. Jenna had to shake your shoulder to prompt you.

"Are you okay?"

You flashed a fake smile. "Yeah. Of course."

Jenna gave you a pitiful gaze. "This is killing you too right?"

"Right," you sighed, taking your mug from the countertop. "Let's have some more of this and hope we get through the night."

"Amen," Jenna quaked.

You go back to your desk, but your mind cannot focus on work now. Your heart started beating wildly in your chest the moment you were alone with Jaehyun, and it hasn't stopped since. You tried not to pay him any attention, but he was right across the room so it was impossible. When your eyes met his, he lifted his ID card to show it to you, and that made you look away. You grabbed your headphones and played music to drown your thoughts and hopefully focus on your task. But Jaehyun's melodic voice was still in your head.

'Did you know everyone at the motel knew my name when I stepped out the morning after?'

Fuck him. And fuck motels with crappy soundproofing.

Jaehyun was still smug about you getting flustered by what he said. Now you're thinking he did that to see how much of an effect he has on you. Why bother? He already knows he had you in a chokehold.

"Hey, still swamped?" Tiffany asked sleepily, sinking her chin on your shoulder. You leaned your head on hers and sighed.

"Halfway there, but I'm just finishing up on this one file. I'll work on the rest tomorrow." You were all required to finish work tonight, but after seeing how late it had gotten, your chief eventually told everyone to go home, saying he'd ask the higher-ups for an extension.

"Yeah, it's impossible to finish everything tonight," she grumbled. "Don't stay too long though. No job is worth dying for."

"I know," you sighed, giving her a comforting smile. "See you tomorrow, Tiff."

"See you."

Half of your office is now vacant and the only ones left are you, Carl, and Jaehyun who seemed to be working at a steady pace while still giving you a hard tease. You ignored him altogether, eager to just finish this one paper. But then you caught him yawning from your peripheral view, making you peer over your computer screen to watch. He took off his tie completely and tucked it away before unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt. Then he flexed his arms and rubbed his nape, seemingly trying to shake off the drowsiness. The way he closed his eyes and threw his head back while massaging his neck is getting you riled up. You told yourself to look away, but your eyes were fixated on the masculine display before you. It was also at that moment that Carl stood up from his chair with a hand over his belly. His hurried steps caught you and Jaehyun's attention and you watched as he exited the room and slammed the door close behind him.

Jaehyun's eyes fell on you, his expression smug as ever. With a huff, you rose to your feet, tossing your headphones on the desk before you walked straight toward Jaehyun. He seemed taken aback and confused, frozen on his seat when you pushed his swiveling chair and sent it bumping against the wall. A smirk formed on his lips the moment you grabbed his collar.

"Whoa, whoa," he chuckled, even his voice is driving you insane. "What's with the aggression?"

You silenced his cocky attitude with a hurried kiss, straddling his lap while he grabbed your waist and kissed you back. It didn't take long for the making out to elicit an erection from him. When you gave it a grind, Jaehyun pulled back in surprise. The flustered look on his face gave you confidence.

"Why? What happened to the cockiness you've been giving me all day?" you challenged, running your hands through his neatly styled hair. "Don't tell me you're good with just words?"

He grabbed your hands and locked them behind you, hissing as he snapped at you. "Don't tempt me, y/n."

"Like you have been tempting me all day?"

Jaehyun smirked, leaning in to kiss your collarbone. "How long before Carl comes back from taking care of his business?"

"Long enough," you replied, trying to free your wrists from his hold but Jaehyun was infinitely stronger than you were.

"Good. Be quiet," he whispered to your skin, eyeing the CCTV at the far corner of the office. He gently pushed you off his lap before pulling you into the pantry door and shutting the door close.

The rendezvous with Jaehyun might have been a bad idea. It didn't only go against what you personally believed in, it also went against your company's code of conduct. You had expected the next day after to be the most awkward, but contrary to what you initially thought, things weren't that bad at all. You kept everything professional and not in a forced way. Jaehyun was cordial, and so were you. It helps that you were all busy chasing the deadline for the audit too.

"Coffee?" Tiffany asked when she passed by your desk on her way to the pantry. You smiled at her, catching Jaehyun's gaze from his desk.

"No, thanks. I'm good."

Yes, you kept everything professional between the two of you, but you haven't forgotten the events of last night just yet. Eventually, you will have to stop avoiding going to the pantry, but you will surely never look at it the same way again.

What could be worse than dating a coworker? Hooking up with them. The no-strings-attached guarantee of hook-ups may sound like a good thing, but it's not when your hookup is your colleague. AND if you hooked up at the office. The chances of your little rendezvous happening again were high. You knew that and you were right.

Coffee? -jjh

You stared at the note for another second then glanced at Jaehyun's direction. He was already eyeing you, his brows lifting as if seeking a response to his query. You mouthed a 'no' before crumpling the sticky note and tossing it in the trash bin under your desk. Jaehyun just grinned, shrugging as he rose to his feet and headed for the pantry. Your eyes followed him, sighing when he disappeared into the door.

"What's wrong?" Jenna whispered in your ear, startling you because you never noticed how closely she was sitting next to you. She chuckled at your surprised reaction. "Girl, you should really slow down on those espressos."

"Indeed, I should," you agreed, laughing awkwardly before resuming your work.

Hooking up with Jaehyun was a bad idea and you had decided it would never happen again. That was a lie, of course, and it was proven to be when you found yourself making out with him in the copy room; your back leaning on the copier for support while he ravaged your lips and your neck. Several times, you couldn't suppress the moans that escaped your lips and several times, Jaehyun had to laughingly remind you to be quiet. On another occasion, he pulls you into the fire exit to make out, where he also had you weak on the knees all day just by going down on you for a good five minutes. The pantry would also be a venue for more than just that one time Carl had a bad stomach. Notes passing became a habit too.

Soon, you and Jaehyun had sullied the secret spaces on your office floor. You've memorized the areas where people never usually went to, the blind spots behind cameras, and the dark corners around. Overtimes became more frequent for you, with most of it being spent with Jaehyun between your legs or yourself bent over the pantry table or the copy machine. Surely, you gotta stop doing this at one point. But at which point exactly? Neither of you ever discussed that. You're not in a kind of relationship where you have to talk about this stuff anyway. As a matter of fact, you never even talk about the hookups. You just find the opportunity at random and then you both grab it each time it appears. That's how it has been for the past few months, and it doesn't look like things might change anytime soon. Or so you thought.

"You look gorgeous!" Tiffany praised, the moment you met her in front of the elevator. "Is that a new dress? Did you go shopping by yourself?"

"Thanks, but this isn't new or anything. I've had this for a while now. Barely wore it though," you replied, looking down at the dress you took your time to pick out this morning.

"Well, you need to wear it more often. You look great in it," Tiffany affirmed so you thanked her again.

At the office, Jenna uttered praises about your outfit too, throwing in a nice comment about how your hair was styled. You haven't really noticed it but these days, you've been paying more attention to your appearance. Not that you never cared before, but lately, you've taken an extra hour from your daily routine and dedicated it to looking great every day at work. Now that you're being praised for it, you had to admit to yourself that the reason for this might have been Jaehyun.

"Are you seeing someone?" Jenna asked while you were having lunch at the pantry. Your eyes briefly met Jaehyun's, who looked at you like he too wanted to know your answer.

"No. That's so random. Why'd you ask?" you chuckled, shaking your head and poking your food with the fork.

"I just had a feeling that you might be seeing someone. You look great these days," Jenna chimed.

"Agreed. You're literally glowing, y/n."

You shrugged, feeling shy because of the attention being focused on you. "I'm just feeling great these days. You know, skincare, working out, good sleep and stuff."

"And stuff?" Tiffany repeated, grinning playfully. "Is it the good stuff?"

Jenna snickered. "Must have been some satisfying stuff."

You chided them sternly, shaking your head at their teasing as you reluctantly glanced at Jaehyun. His head was bowed down as he was looking at his food, eating quietly but the grin on his lips made you kick his feet under the table. Carl jolted next to Jaehyun, whimpering as he reached down his leg.

"Ow, y/n. What was that?"

"Oh, god, I'm sorry," you blurted and gave him an apologetic smile. "Something brushed my feet. I thought it was a rat or something."

The rest of the day went with Jaehyun still giving you a teasing grin. You just rolled your eyes at him each time and refused to deal with it. In the afternoon when you were about to clock out, he pulled you into the fire escape, giving you a quick kiss.

"Stop. I have no time for this," you chided, hitting his chest. Jaehyun just smirked and you saw that as him challenging you. "I'm serious. I have plans and I'm gonna be late."

Jaehyun tutted and then sighed. "That's too bad. I was gonna ask if you'd like to have dinner with me."

"Dinner with you?" you repeated. You heard him clearly, you just weren't expecting that to come out of his mouth. "Just the two of us?"

Jaehyun looked around. "Let's see. There's you, me, and no one else around. Yeah, that means it's gonna be just the two of us."

You scoffed. "Stop playing around. I'm busy."

You were about to leave when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to his chest. He then pressed soft kisses on your neck. "How about tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I'll check my calendar," you quipped, rolling your eyes. "I'm a busy woman."

"Come on, I'll pick you up," Jaehyun chuckled, giving you a chaste kiss on the lips before tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear. Somehow, his actions and the way he's looking at you felt affectionate, making your heart race. "Assuming you don't want to leave the office together. But if you're okay with that, we can just go right after clocking out."

"Why would you want to have dinner together?"

Jaehyun looked at you like you just asked him the stupidest question he's ever heard. "Why not? Is it not allowed?"

"No," you replied but then shook your head. "I mean, it's not that it isn't allowed. It's just... weird."

"Weird? The good stuff is fine, but dinner is weird?"

"Good stuff?" you hollered, hitting his chest as you felt your cheeks flare with embarrassment. "What good stuff are you talking about?"

"That's what you girls called it," Jaehyun laughed, trapping your hands so you'd stop hitting him. "Alright, I'm sorry. That was ungentlemanly of me."

"You're far from being a gentleman, Jung Jaehyun."

"Okay, I know why you think that way. So, maybe you'd be curious to see me be the gentleman that I am and have dinner with me. Tomorrow, after work."

You rolled your eyes and sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll think about it."

"Great," he lilted, fishing his phone from his pocket and handing it to you. "This is the part where I ask for your number. Though, I know I should have done that a long time ago."

You scoffed as you took his phone and dialed your own number. After that, he kissed you again and you ended up making out for a few more minutes before you hurriedly stepped out of the door back into the building. You didn't expect to see Jenna when you pushed through the door. Her bright smile was a contrast to your surprised expression.

"Oh, hi! Are you leaving now? Should we go together?"

You were just about to respond when Jaehyun stepped out of the door behind you. Jenna stood there confusedly, eyes moving from him to you and him and back to you again. You grabbed her arm and led her away with a burst of awkward laughter.

"Yes. We should leave together," you blurted, dragging her away. "I was actually on my way to see my mom. Would you like to come with me?"

Jenna's face lit up. "I'd love to! I haven't seen her in ages!"

"Good. She'll be glad to see you too."

Dinner with Jaehyun? This year is really full of surprises for you. Jaehyun went from being a man you thought you'd never see again to picking you up at your apartment on time for a dinner date. This was impossible a few months ago, but now there he is, standing by his car in a nice suit and neatly styled hair as he waits for you to come down.

"There you are," he chimed, greeting you with a sweet smile and a peck on your cheek. You kissed him back, thanking him after he opened the car door for you.

"So, where are you taking me?" you asked as he occupied the driver's seat.

Jaehyun chuckled, probably because of the way you phrased your question. "Where am I taking you? You make this whole thing sound so insincere."

You just shrugged, not denying his observation. "Sorry, just not used to this at all."

"I don't blame you," he replied, shaking his head. "The way we got into this relationship is unconventional."

Relationship? You hummed. Well, whatever this is that you have with him, it is considered a relationship, just not the roses and dinner dates kind. Still, here you are, pulling up in front of a nice restaurant. Jaehyun was attentive to you, opening doors and pulling chairs out. You know better than to assume he was an actual gentleman. His telling you he'll show you how much of a gentleman he was has kinda ruined it for you. Whatever this dinner was for, you decided not to overthink it anymore and just enjoy the night.

"To be fair, I was hoping not to see you again after that," you told him over steak and wine. You were talking about random things when the first time you met him was casually brought up. "I don't really like being nice and friendly with one-night stands the morning after."

"Is that so?" he questioned, brows furrowed but he had an amused smile on his lips. "I thought we had something going on."

You scoffed. "Something going on? Jaehyun, come on. You're not expecting to form some kind of connection with a girl you met at a nightclub. Well, except maybe the physical kind."

Your statement had Jaehyun throwing his head back as he laughed. "God, y/n, you have no idea how adorable you are."

Your cheeks flared at the compliment, but you chose to act aloof and just roll your eyes. "Now, you're just simping."

"Wait, what happened to the witty flirt who swept me entirely off my feet that one night at the club?" he asked so you shrugged.

"That time and right now are different. I was trying to flirt with someone then, now I'm just enjoying dinner with a coworker."

"A coworker?" Jaehyun's smile turned mischievous, dropping his fork gently on his plate so he could use his hand to wipe the corner of your mouth with a napkin. "Just a coworker?"

A coworker you have occasional quickies with. "Don't flatter yourself, Jaehyun."

"How can I not? Having a date as gorgeous as you are is very flattering indeed."

This time, it was your turn to let out an amused laugh. "It's amazing how well you use words to charm people. Is that a skill?"

"It might be but I'm not too confident in that aspect. I'd say I'm more well-versed in other uses for the mouth."

You choked on the wine and did so violently that you had a hard time breathing. Jaehyun was quick to offer you a glass of water, but mischief never left his lips. You glared at him because of that. "Whatever happened to being a gentleman?"

Jaehyun just wiggled his eyebrows, laughing after you rolled your eyes at him. Fortunately, he dropped the teasing and you were able to eat in peace. A huge part of you expected the night to extend until after dinner. You imagined all sorts of scenarios, all of them leading up to you and Jaehyun alone in an actual bedroom this time. It could be his place, or yours, maybe a hotel room. And as you were making out with him in the car right in front of your apartment, you pictured both of you naked on your bed and your mind went as far as waking up in the morning with him beside you.

So when he bade you a reluctant goodbye, and wished you a good night's sleep, you couldn't even hide the disappointment on your face.

"Everything alright?" he asked, noticing your silence as you sat there dumbfounded.

"Yeah," you muttered, still in a daze. Embarrassment soon crept up on you, making you look away and reach for the car door. "Good night, Jaehyun."

"You're not gonna invite me in?"

The way your head immediately turned to him and your face lit up was embarrassing, but your body was aching to be one with his so you ignored the shame. "Would you like me to?"

"I was waiting for it," he chimed, gently pulling you by the neck to kiss you again. When he broke away, he looked apologetic. "But we have work tomorrow and it's getting late."

"You're right," you chuckled nervously. "Duh."

Jaehyun smiled contently, giving you one last peck on the lips before letting you go. "See you tomorrow?"

You flattened your lips together, eyeing him curiously as you asked, "You know we can't date in the office, right?"

"Of course. It's a workplace. Not a dating spot," he chuckled and you sighed exasperatedly.

"No, I meant we can't date coworkers. It's a rule in the company."

Jaehyun looked like he was hearing about this for the first time. "That's a thing?"

"Oh, you didn't know?" you chuckled. "That's fine. It's not like we're dating or anything, right?"

"We're not?"

You groaned in frustration. "Okay, you know what? We're not having this conversation. I'm gonna go."

Jaehyun didn't stop you from exiting the car, but he bade you goodnight before you stepped into your apartment building. The dinner was pleasant but not that you were alone, you realized what a disaster it had been. Thoughts flooded your mind, all of them about Jaehyun; his dinner invitation, his intentions, the subtle implications in his statements, and what's going on in his mind. You thought maybe he was just teasing with his subtle hints. Surely he can't be serious about it, right? He's a grown man who knows how to properly communicate. If he wants more than what you already have right now, he can tell you directly without the mixed signals.

Then again, what if you're both just adults with communication issues? Admittedly, you too have no idea what you want out of this setup. Sure, you enjoy the thrill of it but one way or another, one of you has to be responsible enough to put an end to this.

That being said, you found yourself finding the right opportunity to bring it up with Jaehyun. Unfortunately, work kept both of you busy for the following days after your first date. So much that he can't even find the slightest opportunity for a quick rendezvous around the office. Other than work-related subjects, quick greetings, and fleeting glances, you have yet to speak a proper conversation with Jaehyun.

"Hi," Jaehyun greeted as he rounded the long conference room table. "You're here early."

You panicked on your feet, standing up in surprise at his sudden appearance. Doing so, your hand that was sitting on your lap hit the edge of the table so hard that you thought a bone was broken. Groaning in pain, you clenched your fist in hopes that it might alleviate the pain. Jaehyun rushed over to you, gently taking your hand in his to examine it.

"Why are you so clumsy?" he chided softly, blowing on the reddened skin. "Does it hurt?"

"No," you replied. It did hurt a while ago, but now that you were moving it, the pain has gone and you were relieved to know you didn't actually break a bone. More importantly, you are currently exhilarated because this is the closest you've gotten to Jaehyun in the past few days. The whiff of his perfume was faint, but it was enough to make you feel euphoric.

Jaehyun eyed you curiously, his forehead creasing with concern. "Are you sure? Does it hurt if I do this?" With gentle hands, he pressed on the reddened spot.

"Jaehyun, should we stop this?" you asked directly, and the astonishment on his face was evident.

"Stop this? This?" he asked back, motioning for your hand. You sighed, flattening your lips tightly together. Jaehyun's face darkened. "Oh, you don't mean that, do you?"

You pulled your hand back, shoulders sagging in frustration. "See, this is the problem with us. We talk in codes instead of communicating like grown adults."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the door opened before he could say something. Your co-workers walked in, chattering like busy bees. While that was happening, Jaehyun was moving back to his seat. The meeting began after quick greetings and work dragged you away from a proper conversation once again.

"GUESS WHAT?!" Tiffany exclaimed when she found you and Tiffany in the pantry. Her eyes gleamed with excitement and she was jittering like she'd explode if you didn't respond to her immediately.

Jenna was the one who asked, "What?"

"There's a secret couple in our company!" Tiffany said briskly, in a single breath. Your ears rang warning bells. "And it's from our floor."

"From which department?" Jenna asked.

"No one knows yet, but apparently, Olive from Marketing saw two people making out in the fire escape."

At this point, you were sweating bullets despite the cool office. You wanted to remove yourself from the conversation but there was no excuse to leave. And to be honest, part of you wanted to know what people were saying about this.

"Oh my god, who?" Jenna was completely invested, it seems.

"They could either be from the same department or separate. But what if they're from ours?" Tiffany squealed.

Jenna appeared to think. "That's a possibility but who could it be? It's not like we know two people who are weirdly close to each other. Ones who act all sneaky and jumpy from time to time. And also keeps sneaking glances at someone from across the room."

You were stirring your coffee slowly, quietly listening without looking at them. But then you noticed they'd stopped talking so you glanced at them only to realize that they had been staring at you.

"Why? What's up?" you asked dumbly, still a little jittery.

"Well, would you look at that? It seems we do know someone," Jenna grinned knowingly and you could feel the color draining from your face. You and Jenna eyed each other, her looking like a predator who just found her prey, and you feeling smaller and smaller. You knew that she now knows. Feeling caught, you gulped the entirety of your coffee and belched.

"Sorry. I'm gonna go," you told them.

Jenna snickered. "Oh, okay. I'm gonna follow you then."

"Wait! Hey! Who is it?" Tiffany called out, following the two of you out of the pantry. "Girls! What do you know?"

Fuck the universe, you told yourself. The moment you left the pantry, your eyes caught Jaehyun who just entered the office. He did a double-take upon seeing you, stopping in his tracks and walking toward you. Jenna nudged your elbow a little too obviously, so you nudged her back.

"Hi," he began, smiling at the girls and then back at you. "Carl passed me on to you. He said you were in charge of this before so I should come to you for help."

You peered at the file he was handing to you and then turned to Tiffany. "Yeah, I did. But Tiffany worked on this after the previous analyst resigned. I just helped a little."

"Oh? Which file is it?" Tiffany questioned, also looking at the papers. "Yes, I can help, but y/n did the work on this entire project. It was already perfect so I didn't change anything on it and just submitted it as it is."

"You didn't?" you asked Tiffany who shook her head in response.

"Great. Will you help me update it then?"

"Oh, she'll help you just fine," Jenna giggled, nudging you forward. "She's really good at her job. Just don't go sneaking around."

"Jenna!" you chided but your friend just laughed, grabbed Tiffany by the arm, and walked away with a wave.

You groaned in frustration, snatching the file from Jaehyun's hand and mumbling to yourself. Jaehyun inched closer.

"Everything alright?"

"Jenna knows we hooked up."

"Jenna?" Jaehyun repeated, taken aback by your confession. He looked at Jenna who was still walking away with Tiffany. "She did seem like the type to catch on quickly."

"She's sharp when she needs to be," you replied, also glancing at your girl friends. "But she's not the most observant in our office. If she noticed something was going on with us, others will soon realize it too."

"Are you free tonight?"

You glared at him. "Did you even listen to a word I said?"

Jaehyun shrugged, tucking his hands in his pockets. "We can talk about it over dinner if you're down. It's on me."

You rolled your eyes in disbelief, then turned on your heel to leave. He calls out your name so you waved your hand in the air. "Fine. Whatever. Just go away for now."

Jaehyun was grinning fondly, but he heeded your request and walked the opposite way.

Dinner was quiet. Jaehyun kept chatting you up, and he had to keep prompting you because you kept drifting away into an absentminded daze. It's not that you didn't want to listen, you just had something in your mind that's making you dissociate with your company.

"Y/n," he prompted again, now looking concerned.

"Sorry. You were saying?"

Jaehyun exhaled calmly. "Nothing important. Would you like me to drive you home and call it a day?"

"What? No, I..." you paused, sighed in defeat, and then massaged your temples impatiently. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," he replied, smiling sweetly. He reached for your hand on the table and squeezed it. "Just let me know if I can help."

You shrugged. "I'm just really tired right now."

"I know. Work hasn't been the easiest for all of us."

"Right," you chimed, looking down at your food that you barely touched. "Actually... I really think we should stop this."

Once again, Jaehyun's handsome face darkened with concern. "Is there a specific reason why you keep saying that?"

"Nothing!" you blurted. "I mean, yes! Of course, there is! We can't keep doing this as coworkers. People from work are soon gonna notice."

Jaehyun shrugged. "What's wrong with dating a coworker?"

You laughed derisively. "Aside from the fact that it's a spoken rule to not date a coworker, we are also not dating. I thought we both knew that?"

"We're not?"

"You see that?" you told him, stern and annoyed. "That's our problem. Despite being so intelligent and charming, you always played dumb whenever I bring this up."

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, letting go of your hand and straightening his back. "It's a serious question, y/n. I am actually under the impression that we're already dating."

"Having sex occasionally does not mean we're already dating, Mr. Jung Jaehyun."

"Then at what point do we start dating?"

At this point, you were fuming because of frustration. You couldn't tell if he was pretending to be dumb or if he was actually clueless. Although, the look on his face told you he was genuinely curious about the answer to his question.

"Come on, Jae. You've dated before, I'm sure you know this isn't how it goes."

"Indeed I have but..." he paused, looking away with a creased forehead. "I never had to spell it out to them."

Oh, to be Jung Jaehyun, charming and gorgeous enough to pull any girl he wants. He probably never had to chase after someone he liked. They all probably fell head over heels for him immediately. Like you did.

"Do you like me then?" you asked straightforwardly. If you were to be asked the same question, you would say 'yes' in a heartbeat. That's because you do like him, a lot actually. You don't have deep feelings for him yet, but you feel a romantic spark with him that could lead to something.

"I won't sleep with someone I don't like, y/n."

"It's a yes or no question."

"Yes!" he pressed on, laughing at you like you should've already known the answer. "What do you think?"

You sighed, slowly processing the situation before you. "Won't you ask me if I liked you at all?"

"No," he replied curtly, poking his food with the fork.

His answer made you scoff loudly. "What if I tell you I don't like you?"

A grin formed on his lips as he looked up to meet your gaze. "Then I'd call you a liar. You like me, y/n. I know."

"You're awfully confident," you bluffed, crossing your arms over your chest to challenge him. "Where is that coming from?"

Jaehyun smiled cockily, leaning back on his chair with an air of confidence. "It comes from the way you held on to me tightly whenever you're in my arms."

Your jaw dropped open. Embarrassed, you covered your mouth and looked away. Jaehyun didn't stop.

"The way you trusted me enough to keep doing what we've been doing these past few months. Even the way you look at me from across the room. My confidence comes from those."

You took a deep breath and faced him again. "Okay. You can shut up now."

"That's why I thought we were already dating, y/n," he continued. "I thought we liked each other enough to call this dating. I was just beginning to treat you the way a girlfriend should be treated but work is keeping both of us apart."

You were quiet because you didn't have anything to say, so you just let him talk. Like always, he is composed, confident, and well-articulate. Had he explicitly asked to date you, you would've said 'yes'. Then again, your relationship didn't start in a meet-cute kind of way. It didn't blossom beautifully like cherry blossoms in spring. So he had a point. To be honest, you had no idea how it was supposed to go given the situation. But you would still have preferred if you two just talked about it like proper adults.

"Should I just quit?"

"What?" you asked, not because you didn't understand him but because the question was downright ridiculous. "Why would you quit?"

Jaehyun pouted. "Because I want to be a proper boyfriend."

Boyfriend. Did he actually just say that? And is that an ecstatic giddiness you're feeling?

"You're way in over your head, Jae," you ridiculed, successfully hiding your elation behind aloofness. "You're not my boyfriend."

"Alright, then, how do I become one?"

Just ask, you thought. You didn't want to have to spell it out for him. If you did, you would think he was only asking because you told him to. "How do you not know?"

"If I ask you now, would you say 'yes'?"

"You'll never know unless you try."

Jaehyun straightened up in his seat, reaching for your hand again as he gazed into your eyes. You stared back, letting his deep, dark brown eyes lure you into a beautiful abyss--the kind that's impossible to escape once you fall into it.

"Be my girlfriend, y/n."

You blinked. "Oh, that's not exactly asking."

"No, it's not. That was me making it official with you." Jaehyun's self-esteem is impressively baffling. It almost feels like he's got you wrapped up in his finger. In fact, it feels like he knew exactly that things would go his way, no matter what. He knew what he wanted, and he also knew you wanted the same thing, it seems.

Nevertheless, a voice in your head is screaming a protest. He's a coworker. Indeed, he is. The sex may be phenomenal, but he's still a coworker.

You could abandon your beliefs and take a leap. Jaehyun could be worth the risk of breaking office rules. Not to mention you've already broken said rules anyway, even making a sacrilege of your workplace. Though secretly, it was still scandalous. You never knew you'd be the type to engage in something so risky. It didn't even need any convincing, you straight up just did what was done. You gotta admit though, you liked every second of it; the risk, the thrill, not to mention Jaehyun in his entirety.

Your eyes flitted over to him. His sweet smile will make people assume he's a gentleman, which might be true if you didn't know what he was capable of doing in a hidden but still public space. You remembered the first time you had sex in the pantry; it was quick, almost fleeting. But it was unforgettable and you were absolutely satisfied, so you kept doing it. His aggressive thrusts, hand tight over your mouth to keep you from making any noise, the urgency on his face, and the release that comes crashing through. The image that registered in your head made you squeeze your thighs.

Jaehyun tapped twice on the back of your hand. That was when you realized your mind had wandered elsewhere and was dazed. "What's on your mind, babe?"

Babe? "You."

He didn't even flinch, nor was he taken aback. He just tilted his head a little, and asked, "And why is that when I'm right here in front of you?"

You stared at his lips, craving their warmth and the way they felt on your lips, on your neck, and on the skin of your inner thighs. Your breath hitched and a moan almost escaped your lips because of the vivid memory. You looked away from him and started fanning your face, worried your lewd thoughts were showing.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you breathed, meeting his eyes again. Jaehyun shook his head, moving his glass so the red wine would swirl.

"Don't ask, baby. You know I'd do anything for you."

"Should we just go, then?"

Jaehyun licked his lips, savoring the rich wine. "That's still asking. Assert yourself, babe."

You stood up at once, grabbing his hand on the table and dragging him up. Jaehyun almost choked on the wine he was still drinking, but he quickly put it down and tossed the napkin on the table. You weren't paying him any attention, eager to just leave the restaurant as soon as possible. When you reached the sidewalk, you stopped and looked around.

"I must say, that's one way of asserting yourself," Jaehyun quipped but you ignored his comment and pointed to a certain building around the block.

"Let's go that way," you ordered, and wasted no time discussing plans.

Jaehyun was more than happy to oblige. When you reached the hotel, he was the one who checked you in using his name and his card. You'd barely gotten inside your suite before Jaehyun had you up against the wall, his lips crashing into yours urgently while his arms held you strongly.

You kissed hungrily like you'd been starved for days, which was true because you hadn't had any alone time with Jaehyun for a while now. You ran your hand up his muscly arms to his broad shoulders. Jaehyun reached over to your ass and lifted you off your feet while you wrapped your legs around his waist.

"Take me to bed," you breathed, almost in a whisper. "Please?"

"Anything you want, baby," he grinned, biting his lip as he strode over to the king-sized bed. He laid you down gently, caressing your cheek and letting his hand wander from your face to your clothed breasts. He cupped it and gently squeezed it, and his eyes never left yours even for a second. You pushed yourself up to kiss him and as you did, your dress slipped off of your skin. Jaehyun reached for your back, then you found your bra leaving your body the same way your dress did. When his fingers found your nipple and gave it a good squeeze, you let out a moan that made his face twitch. "God, you're so beautiful."

His mouth went to where his fingers had been, sucking, pulling, and teasing at the sensitive bud. Each contact electrified you to the core. His hands are everywhere at once until they find the cloth of your lace underwear. "Can I do--"

"Jaehyun! Less talking, more doing," you interjected, your voice urgent and your tone pleading. "Please."

He chuckled a little. "So polite."

You wriggled out of your panties as he undressed, seemingly taking his time to stall you on purpose. You hated the smug look on his face because you knew he was taunting you. He knew exactly that you were desperate for him, and that you'd beg if he pushed you hard enough.

Jaehyun hovered over you, staring at you intently with lustful eyes and a cocky grin. You tried not to fall for it, but you needed him so you folded.

"Jung Jaehyun, I swear to god if you keep this up, I'm walking out that door," you threatened, You would never do that, but you'd like to see if it would have any effect on him.

Jaehyun inched closer to your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips before moving his head all the way down between your thighs. Without warning, he started lapping on your cunt, squeezing your thighs in the process. You didn't even try to muffle your moans, instead, you screamed them out. Your stomach was doing somersaults and your head was flying on cloud nine. Just as you were about to feel the release coming, Jaehyun stood on his knees and looked down at your confused expression. He flashed a grin that made your belly flutter. There he was, hovering over you with a body that looked like he was some Greek god sculpture, except that his size was nowhere near that of any Greek sculpture.

You stretched up your arms and Jaehyun fell into them. He kissed you again, needily. And when he thrust himself into you, you cried out in sweet surrender; rocking against his hips, kissing his shoulder, his neck, his chin, and then his lips like you'd die if you didn't. The release hit you like a waterbomb, making you dig your nails into Jaehyun's skin. And then he too cried out of release before he collapsed on top of you, panting.

When you awoke, Jaehyun was still beside, you playing with your hair as he watched your eyes fluttering. You blinked several times, trying to make sense of what was happening. The civility of it all, the fog of affection in the air, his sweet smile, and the warm glow of admiration in his eyes.

"That was an excellent dinner," he quipped, making you smile. "How about some dessert?"

You scoffed then hit his chest. But Jaehyun just gave you a good-natured laugh before gently flicking your forehead.

"I meant real dessert," he scolded softly, motioning to the table across the room. There sat a course of desserts and fruits, as well as a champagne bottle in a bucket of ice.

"Oh," you blurted.

"I'll give you the other dessert later," he added so you glared at him again. Jaehyun was quick on his feet, jumping down the bed and running towards the table before you could even try to hit him. You couldn't help laughing at the unexpectedly goofy display. You weren't discouraged though, if anything, you liked him more because he was adorable.

You sat on the bed and noticed you were wearing a nightgown. You recalled falling asleep after the sex and had faint recollections of Jaehyun telling you to raise your hands so he could dress you up. You thought that had been a dream but looking at the silky dress on your body, you now realize it wasn't.

Delectable food waited for you on the table. Despite being apprehensive about it at first, you gobbled the good food. Over conversations, you also emptied the bottle of champagne and that had you pawing at each other for a while before you both ended up back on the bed, moaning under the sheets.

You spent the weekend in that hotel room; chatting, eating, and goofing around. The fact that you're not shoving your tongue down his throat every hour was surprising. But then you realized that you've learned more about each other in two days of being alone together than you did the past six months.

You strutted into the office with a beautiful glow at work on an early Monday morning. Your steps were light and you were humming happily as you sat in your cubicle. Jenna was quick to notice your ecstatic demeanor.

"Did something good happen this weekend?"

A smile crept on your lips. "No. It wasn't good. It was amazing."

Jenna mirrored your grin, pushing her chair closer to yours. "Why? What was it? Did you and Jaehyun go on a date?"

"How did you-" you stopped, sighed, and rolled your eyes. "What do you mean?"

She nudged your shoulder. "Oh, so you did. Is that why he was in a hotel all weekend?"

Your eyes widened in surprise. "How did you know that?"

Jenna covered her lips, looking like she had been caught. "Ah, that slipped out. Excuse me."

Her chair slid back to her desk to escape you. Intrigued about how she knew about the hotel, you followed her to ask but before you could speak, your department head tapped on your desk and asked you to see him in the meeting room.

"We'll talk later," you told Jenna before following your superior.

Jaehyun entered the office just as you were passing by the doorway on your way to the meeting room. He flashed you a sweet smile which made you giddy. You smiled back before disappearing into the meeting room. That was the beginning of your hidden relationship. It was so much different from your sexual rendezvous, this was more exciting. The secret glances, mouthing endearments when no one is looking, brushing hands or shoulders on purpose, and the contentment of being close to each other when you happened to gather together with your other coworkers. Each day, you leave the office separately only to end up in each other's embrace at night. In the morning, you arrive to work separately too, eagerly waiting for the day to be over so you'd be together again. It was fun and exciting, so much so that you felt like a giddy teenager experiencing your first relationship ever.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this," Jaehyun complained, nuzzling his nose on the crook of your neck. He kissed your skin and inhaled your scent. "I miss you."

"You miss me? We see each other every day," you chided softly, turning so you were face to face with him. You snaked your arms around his neck and gave him a chaste kiss on the lips. Other than the pantry, this file room has also become your secret meeting place. "We practically live together since you're always at my place."

Jaehyun exhaled sharply, unconvinced. "That's not enough."

You tapped his chest twice, pulling away from him. "We're not kids, Jaehyun. Let's make do with what we get."

Jaehyun sighed, leaning on the shelves and then crossing his arm over his chest. "We can get more than this, you know?"

"How do you suggest we do that?" you questioned curiously. You're not convinced that his idea will be a good one but you wanted to hear what he had to say.

"I could try talking to the HR about the ban."

You scoffed. "That's your big idea?"

Jaehyun just shrugged. "Not really. It's part of the idea. Would you like to meet my parents?"

Your brows are tied in a knot. "Out of nowhere?"

"Yeah. I told them I am dating this intelligent, charming, and lovely woman. They can't wait to meet you."

Well, that was sudden. Despite your previous physical relationship, you haven't been official for long but he's already talking about meeting his parents. Jaehyun had to leave before you could give him an answer because a coworker walked into the file room. You seemed unnerved about the invitation but you were actually ruminating on it all day, weighing the pros and cons of this meeting.

That night, Jaehyun couldn't go to your place because of a prior engagement. But when he called you right before going to sleep, you told him you'd love to meet his parents. There should be no pressure, it's just a brunch. You told yourself to relax and not overthink it.

And so the weekend came. Jaehyun looked majestic in his Prada cardigan, leaning on his car as he waited for you in the parking lot of your apartment. He greeted you with a sweet smile and an even sweeter kiss, followed by a compliment on your hair and your outfit.

"You smell nice too, damn," he added, smelling your neck and tightening his hug. You just giggled, letting him sniff you all he wanted. It was all cute and adorable until he was pulling you by the waist and pressing his crotch on you. "Should we just stay in?"

You laughed heartily. "Let's go, Jaehyun."

"Call me 'baby' and I'll listen to you."

"Baby," you obliged but your tone was stern instead of endearing.

Jaehyun threw his head back, groaning. "God, that backfired. We really should just stay in."

You pushed him aside, opened the car door, and then locked yourself in his shotgun. Jaehyun was grinning when he rounded the car to sit in the driver's seat. He wasn't done flirting with you though because as soon as he was inside, he pulled you into a kiss--long, sweet, passionate. Oh, how he made you feel so beautiful.

He drove halfway across the city, locking your hands together and singing along to the song on his stereo. When you finally reached your destination, you were in awe of the luxurious home before you. You had an inkling that Jaehyun might have been rich but not this rich. His family house is hidden behind a high fence, probably ten feet high, and inside was a literal mansion surrounded by well-kept landscaping. If you're gonna be honest, the display of wealth made you nervous.

"Intimidating, isn't it?" said the familiar voice of a woman. When you spun to see who it was, your jaw dropped upon seeing Jenna walking towards you and Jaehyun. She grinned at your shocked expression. "It's scarier inside."

"Jen," Jaehyun chided. "Don't scare her."

"Jenna?" you exclaimed. Your friend flashed a silly grin.

"I knew something was going on between you two."

You shook your hands to dismiss her. "Wait, before that. What are you doing here?"

Jaehyun interjected. "She lives here."

You did a double-take, checking if you heard it wrong. Jenna let out a hearty laughter. "Sorry, hon. I would've told you but that would ruin the whole point of being undercover."

"Undercover?" you echoed, touching your temples. "Wait, how about explaining it to me like I'm five?"

Jaehyun and Jenna laughed before the latter guided you inside the house. On your way, she explained that she and Jaehyun are siblings. And that the company's CEO was their older brother. It was straight out of a soap opera and Jaehyun assured you that your reaction was understandable. He also apologized for not telling you about it sooner.

"It's fine, I was just... surprised, I guess?" you blurted. You reach the garden area where a group of people are happily chatting at a dining table. Jenna walked ahead of you, tapped an elder woman on the shoulder, and told her you had arrived.

This elder woman was beautiful and had an air of elegance about her. She stood up from her chair to welcome you.

"Hi, Mom," Jaehyun greeted, giving his mom a peck on the cheek. "This is my girlfriend, y/n."

"Hello, y/n. Wow, Jaehyun wasn't lying when he said you were very lovely." His Mom beamed at you, and contrary to what you expected, she was warm and sweet, ushering you to sit next to her at the dining table while asking you about the journey here.

You met his brother, a face you were so intimidated to see because you knew he was the Big Boss of your workplace. He was cordial and well-mannered, and so was his wife. You didn't ask about his father but based on their conversation, you figured out that he had passed away. You knew better than to ask. Brunch hasn't started yet, but you were already gathered in the garden. At first, you thought it would only be you and them, but a group of people arrived and you found out you were meeting Jaehyun's extended family too.

"We're Koreans. Family means so much to us," Jenna told you. "Not all of us are close though."

Brunch began shortly after their cousins arrived. The food was great and the conversations were engaging enough. Most of the attention was on you because apparently, you were the 'first girl he brought home in three years' according to Jaehyun's brother. Jenna confirmed it too. After the satisfying meal of hearty Korean food, you all dispersed to your own little circles. Jenna dragged you to the patio, chatting with you and apologizing for not telling you about her relationship with Jaehyun. You told her it was fine and that you understood why she had to do it. Jaehyun followed closely behind you two.

"So, are you gonna marry my brother?" Jenna asked and the question made your heart race.

"Stop calling me that. It's giving me chills," Jaehyun interjected so Jenna hissed at him.

"Shut up, I'm not talking to you."

You nervously laughed. "We just started dating."

"Yes, so, is he a marriage prospect or not?" Jenna pressed on.

Jaehyun was the one who said, "We haven't talked about that yet."

"Jaehyun, go away," Jenna complained, pushing her brother but he didn't budge. Jaehyun pulled a face at her to which she responded by lunging her tiny frame at his large physique. They bickered for a moment while you watched in fondness.

Then you said, "He's right, we haven't thought that far ahead."

Jaehyun grabbed his sister's wrists to stop her from hitting him, and then he stared at you, looking befuddled. "We haven't?"

You stared back at him, wondering if you had said wrong. "Have we? I know we haven't. Did I forget?"

"No, you didn't," he replied, letting go of Jenna's arms and straightening up. "I mean, we haven't talked about it yet. But I was already thinking that far ahead."

You blinked, surprised by his confession. Jenna snickered and said, "You can't say that so openly, dear brother. You're putting her on the spot."

"I'm putting her on the spot? You're putting her on the spot! You started this discussion!" Jaehyun whined. You couldn't help laughing at the rare sight. He'd always appeared well-mannered, calm, and collected. Seeing him bicker with his sister made him even more endearing.

"Why not? You guys aren't getting any younger. This is an important question to ask!"

While the siblings bickered, your thoughts screamed loud enough that they deafened you from external noises. Marriage was never an issue to you, you can get married anytime you want as long as you want to. But only now were you realizing that you've gotten old and this was in fact an important question to ask.

Still, now is a little too early for it. Truth be told, you don't know if you want to take this relationship to that level yet. Sure, you're in love but with marriage, love is not the only factor that needs to be considered. Jaehyun is from an affluent family with influence and money, you don't know if you want to be a part of it. Even if you did want to be, you're not sure if his family would want you for him. So far, they had been nothing but nice. Then again, it will be no surprise if these families have criteria that you might be too middle-class to comprehend.

"Baby," Jaehyun prompted, nudging your shoulder. "What were you thinking?"

"You," you replied absentmindedly. Jaehyun grinned coyly.

"Really? We're in the middle of a family gathering, but I think can make up a good excuse to leave."

You rolled your eyes at his lascivious thoughts. "No that's not what I meant, dumbass."

Jaehyun chuckled. "That's a shame. I was ready for it. No, actually, I'm always ready for it."

"For what?"

He pressed his nose on the side of your head, sniffing your hair before whispering, "For my naughty little girlfriend who randomly gets these sudden urges to ride me till I'm spent and dripping."

Your face flared at the lewd image that formed in your mind. Holding your cheeks, you walked away from him in embarrassment. Jaehyun laughingly called out to you. "You'll dry me up in no time, baby."

You glanced back at him, scandalized. "Oh my god, be quiet!"

"What?" he mimed, looking around. "No one heard me."

"I did and you're gross," Jenna grimaced before walking away too.

It's been a week since the family luncheon. Aside from the fact that you now know Jenna and Jaehyun are siblings, nothing much has changed in your relationship. You admit that it was weird with Jenna at first, in a way that whenever you have your usual girl talk, you suddenly remember who she was and just daze. It took some getting used to. Same case with Jaehyun who gets ordered around the office for being a newbie and him doing everything he is told to do like he's not the literal son of the company's founder. You realized just how much humility these two have and how impressive it was that they were raised this way instead of the regular snobbish rich kids.

Your boyfriend's identity had you ruminating about the future of your relationship. What would be the reactions you'd get if people found out you were dating a coworker--especially if it's revealed that he was actually the CEO's brother? You'd surely be called a Cinderella, scoring a jackpot by dating a billionaire's son. People might think it's magical, while most will assume you were in it for the money. Either way, the possibility of your life being put under public scrutiny terrifies you.

"GUESS WHAT?" Tiffany barged into the meeting room, startling you and Jenna. You clutched your heart, beating rapidly in its cage while Jenna gave your coworker a stern look.

"You gotta stop with the dramatic entrances, Tiff," said Jenna.

"Jung Jaehyun just got named CHRO."

Jenna scoffed. "Yeah, and Jung Jenna just became COO. Jaehyun would die and get reborn again before he takes an executive role in this company. Shut the door."

Tiffany shook her head as he approached you, pushing the door close as she went. "I'm serious. Check the company page. They just announced it."

You toggled on your tablet and pulled up the company portal. And there it was, the announcement of the company's latest personnel changes. Jung Jaehyun was indeed the Chief Human Resources Officer.

"Why would he take that job?" you questioned, genuinely curious. Jenna told you before that Jaehyun was supposed to come in as a department head since his education and experience made him qualified for the position, but he still chose to do the undercover thing. Now he's suddenly a CHRO?

"No way, he's not!"

"Apparently, he is. And guess what was the first thing he asked to change in the company policy?"

"What?" you and Jenna asked in a chorus. Tiffany ducked to toggle on the screen and opened another announcement.

"He abolished the dating ban among coworkers. Effective immediately."

Your jaw hung open, while Jenna started laughing like a maniac. Then she said, "Jung Jaehyun, that sly little bastard."

"Does that mean he has a girlfriend here?"

Jenna eyed you. "Yeah, he obviously has a girlfriend here."

"Or he could be sympathizing with the people here who want to date but can't because of the ban," you suggested, trying to challenge Jenna.

"Yeah, like you," Jenna teased. You just rolled your eyes, giving up on challenging her. "He must really like this girl to go through this much trouble. I didn't know he could do something admirable."

"No way!" Tiffany exclaimed, eyes still glued to the screen. You and Jenna turned to her. "Jaehyun is the CEO's younger brother?"

Jenna exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes. "Oh, boy. I guess this is where it starts." She walked away, bidding you quick goodbyes before disappearing to the door. You and Tiffany stayed, waiting for the meeting to begin.

The next few days at work were filled with excited chatters and gossip. During the company's annual staff meeting, Jaehyun and Jenna are introduced as family members of the company. Their positions were also made official, sparking up a debate among the employees on whether they deserved their posts or if it was plain nepotism. You didn't join any of these discussions, but when you're alone with Jaehyun, you'd tease him for being a nepo baby and he'd just laugh at it.

"Should we go to work together today?" Jaehyun asked, nuzzling his nose on your neck.

"No," you replied briskly, scoffing as you pulled away from him. Jaehyun, a lot stronger than you were, grabbed your waist and pulled you back to bed with him.

Your apartment has never been this warm. Love emanated from the walls and you've never felt this content with a relationship. Jaehyun seemed to have made this small studio apartment his favorite place to be and you're not complaining at all. He would spend the night here almost every day. You would sleep in each other's arms, and wake up still cuddling.

"I made coffee," Jaehyun would boast in the morning. "And pancakes too but they're not as fluffy as the ones from the breakfast cafe."

"I love the pancakes you make," you would tell him.

And he'd say, "Thanks, I love you too."

He'd ask to drive you to work but you'd decline. It's been three months since he became head of HR, but the people at work are still clueless about your relationship. You liked it that way, but you also feel bad for Jaehyun who would often invite you to lunch or for coffee. It's not that you don't want to, it's mainly because you'd rather not be talked about. Jaehyun seemed to just take it in stride. He'd ask once in a while, and if you declined, he'd give up and try again next time. He's been most understanding of your reasons.

But then again, he's Jung Jaehyun; he will never let up until things go his way. That said, he walked into your office on a Wednesday afternoon, with a massive bouquet of red roses in his hand, and an even bigger smile on his lips. Your colleagues went into a frenzy, hurrying over to greet him and chat with him. Questions were thrown his way; ones like, 'What are you doing here?' or 'Is there anything we can do for you?' and 'Can we help you?' And then there are also comments like, 'I knew you looked familiar! You were the CEO's brother!' or 'You should have told us who you were!' and 'Man, I didn't overwork you, did I?'

Jaehyun was courteous and greeted everyone back, but after he was done with the pleasantries, he locked his eyes on you--his target. He waded through the crowd, his feet walking straight to where you were sitting quietly in your cubicle. You had hoped he would ignore you, or that no one would notice you. But that was impossible since you knew he was there for no other reason except to see you.

"Are those flowers for someone?" one of your colleagues asked and you mentally cursed him for asking because now, everyone's curious who the flowers were for.

"There you are," Jaehyun beamed, peering over the cubicle. You smiled sheepishly, taking a peek at your coworkers' shocked expressions.

"Can I help you, Mr. Jung?" you smiled back, hoping he'd take your cue and stop whatever he was trying to pull.

"No. I'm here to pick you up. We have dinner plans, remember?" he grinned, seemingly enjoying the way you're all flustered and shy. "You look great. Looks like we can go straight to the restaurant without changing."

"You're having dinner? Is it a company dinner?" Carl questioned, his hand raised in the air like an elementary student.

Tiffany was quick to slap his hand away. "Gosh, Carl, you're so clueless."

Jaehyun offered you the flower. "Shall we go then, my love?"

You've never heard a crowd gasp in unison before, but now you have. Cheeks burning in embarrassment, you took the bouquet and pushed yourself up. Jaehyun had a content smile on his lips when he offered to hold your hand, which you accepted.

"Jung Jaehyun, you really are a sly little bastard."

"You love me for it," he chimed.

And so, hand in hand, you and Jaehyun walked out of your office as a couple.

[fin]

341 notes · View notes

ratatouillewastakendammit · 1 year

Note

i can't stop thinking about Hawks getting pissed during an interview where another pro hero makes a remark about how Hawks pretty little sidekick could do so much better at their agency,,, and he has to sit there and play nice but once it's over hes allllllllllll over her,,,,, yea <3

I was at a con when I got this request and it got me giggling out loud and shit.

This took so long to write because I had writer's block, but I hope you like it <3

Warnings: the tiniest bit of spice, basically just enhanced making out, I tried to make this one a bit more fluffy, language, a random oc because I couldn't really think of any other pro-heroes within the age range who were assholes

Word Count: 2.5k

"And now for our next set of guests, I would firstly like to introduce the primary reason that half of our female viewers tuned in tonight."

The live audience erupted into applause as the pro made his way onto the stage, waving a hand before running it through perfectly-styled golden bangs.

The host, a middle-aged man with strikingly purple hair met him halfway. "Hawks, how are you doing tonight?"

"I'm doing great." He smiled, perfectly aware of how easily that grin could melt hearts. "Happy to be here."

"We're happy to have you!" The host reflected his expression, flashing a set of teeth that were so flawlessly white it was almost unnerving. "And next up, we have another hero slowly climbing up the ranks, the Hound Hero, K-Nine!"

Another man hopped on to the stage, earning another round of cheers from the crowd in front of him.

Umber hair had been wrapped into an unkempt bun, matching the deep shade of his eyes. He could be considered pretty attractive, Hawks supposed, if you could look past the ears poking past the up-do.

Although he didn't know the hero's legal name, nor did he care enough to look it up beforehand, he was ninety perfect positive that it started with the letter 'K.'

Cheesy, but he wouldn't judge. He'd been known to appreciate a good pun.

What he didn't appreciate was that fact that he PR rep had dragged him to another interview on his supposed day off.

Still, he was better than most at keeping up appearances, flashing that heart-stopping grin and throwing in a clever comment when the time called for it.

The host asked the usual questions, the similarities to K-Nine and himself, even though he was sure that those ended at their shared animal-based quirks and the fact that they were both in their mid twenties. Regardless, anyone with eyes would see that the two could barely be considered to be on the same level, something that brought an air of dullness to the interview.

As usual, the winged pro found it difficult to pay attention, leg bouncing in anticipation of how long he would be stuck here. That was one of the less-apparent downsides of being someone who prominently valued speed; sitting through such monotonous situations was quite the feat.

Instead, he droned out the voices as the men across from him started to discuss the importance of sidekicks.

And that's when he heard your name.

He perked up, immediately recognizing that K-Nine was staring in his direction, wolfish grin only accentuated by the sharpened canines poking out from under his lips. "I gotta say, I'm jealous."

Hawks cocked an eyebrow. "Jealous?"

Nodding, the brunet allowed the surface-level authenticity to settle for a moment. "Someone as cute as that? I don't know how anyone there manages to get work done."

It was almost unnoticeable, practically unseen over the televised pixels many were watching through. Regardless, the slight tense of his wings in pure irritation was undeniable.

So, that's what this was about.

Forcing a smile, he replied. "Considering our criminal apprehension rates, I think you'd be surprised."

K-Nine leaned back into his chair, haughty expression flickering between the good-hearted playfulness he was supposed to be exuding. "All I'm saying is a pretty little thing like that could do a lot better at my agency."

Golden eyes narrowed slightly as the connotation, fingers digging into the plush sofa as he used every bit of mental strength to will the spite from his tone. "As far as I know, all of my sidekicks are perfect content to work with me. Just like I'm sure yours are happy to work with you. Not sure how they handle all the fleas, though."

The cluster of people in front of him busted into laughter, and he joined, but the sound seemed to be laced with a soft malice if you managed to listen hard enough.

Playing nice for the public was one of his strong suits, and considering his resilience in a long-term business relationship with Endeavor, he could rightfully say that he was able to handle difficult personalities.

All that tolerance seemed to fly out the window when it came to you.

And the hero across from him either had the social recognition skills of a goldfish, or was too dumb to care.

Regardless, K-Nine turned to the audience. "Come on, I've got a chance, right?"

Some man in the crowd let out a whistle and Hawks felt a compelling urge to hurl a shoe at his nose.

"Speaking of romance," the host verbally silenced the room, making Hawks more grateful than he thought momentarily possible, "I've got to ask, anyone special worthy of a mention?"

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief, the inquiry signaling the closure of the interview, which had seemingly gone on for a few decades at the very least.

It was always like this, the same question would be asked, and then he'd give the same bullshit-answer about the love from his fans being more than enough.

Fuck, how great would it be if he threw your name into the mix.

That'd shut that arrogant mutt up real quick, that's for sure.

But he'd keep his mouth shut, if not for his own benefit, but for yours.

With your take-down rate, it was blatantly how talented you were as a hero and, even if it wouldn't be many, Hawks would be damned if anyone questioned your acceptance into his agency.

In all honesty, he had initially recognized your power and intelligence, traits that had gotten you the job in the first place.

It was in those first few months that he had begun to realize how much he liked you, how much he liked to watch you kick ass, or how pretty you were, even if it was preposterously early in the morning.

So he'd stay quiet, if only to keep a few impudent naysayers off your back.

Not to mention that you might wring his neck.

Instead, Hawks sat simmering with annoyance on that plush sofa until the cameras were cut and he was forced to shake hands, first with the host, then with his fellow interviewee for the night, the latter receiving the tiniest bit more squeeze.

The night was cold but he opted to fly back to his agency, allowing the chill tangle through his hair and hopefully disperse some of the vexation he desperately needed eradicated.

Besides, driving would mean lesser access to his office skylight, which also meant a long-ass elevator ride that he didn't have time for.

It was unlocked, thankfully, and he slipped into the room. He moved to shrug off his jacket, but paused, double taking at the light blooming under the thin fracture between his door and the marble flooring.

Obviously, he wasn't scared. Anybody would have to be pretty idiotic to attempt robbing a place belonging to the number 2 hero, and even more so to leave a light on.

Regardless, he stayed quiet, hoping to avoid an unnecessary interaction with a coworker he didn't have the patience for, and crept around the corner, expression softening a bit at what he saw.

It was you.

You were huddled over your desk, typing furiously at some important looking document. The computer screen illuminated your features, casting a dull glow over the otherwise unlit room.

Hawks recognized the soft tense of your eyebrows every few seconds, the way that you would pause to collect your thoughts because issuing that recognizable click-clack of your keyboard in focused chunks of writing.

He leaned back on the wall, arms crossed as he watched you work with a fond grin gracing his features.

After a while, you sighed, taking a moment to rotate the stiffness beginning to take place in your neck. Your gaze lazily flit over the room and you jumped. "Fuck!"

"Wow, that took you forever, sweetheart," he sighed, tilting his head in a teasing inquiry. "Do we need to work on awareness skills with the other sidekicks?"

"If you're gonna keep lurking behind corners like the boogeyman, then probably." You rolled your eyes, allowing his petname to settle in your mind. "And I thought I told you not to call me that during work."

"Why? Because you get all blushy and embarrassed?" He pushed off the wall, strolling over and nestling his head on your left shoulder.

You tensed a bit as he arms snaked over that of the chair, hands wrapping around your torso. "I don't."

The hero laughed, pulling at your cheeks like he could feel the heat creeping into him. "Work hours are over anyway. Which means that you should be here."

"I need to finish this report." You nodded to the screen as if to prove your point, eyes narrowing as he continued to bury his face into your neck. "Are you okay?"

He paused, eyebrows furrowing as he backed away. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You get extra clingy when you're upset. Did something happen at the interview?"

So, you hadn't seen it.

"How dare you," the faux-hurt lacing his tone was a stark contrast to the satisfaction he felt knowing that you were close enough to recognize some of his physical tellers. Still, you didn't need to know that. "I do wonderful in interviews."

You smiled and he felt his heart melt. "Well, I'm just going to have to check and make sure."

Saving the work on your current tab, you moved your mouse to open up a new one before finding YouTube, which would most likely already have clips of the program uploaded. You were barely hovering over the search bar when the man all but threw himself on to your lap, arms latching themselves around your waist. "Don't. There were so many annoying people there."

"I thought you had an avian quirk," you groaned, arms straining as you tried to detach his. "If you had boa constrictor powers then I would've liked to know."

He glanced up, eyes wide and oddly reminiscent of a child waking up his parents in the middle of the night. "I'll let you stay and work overtime if you let me hang out here for a while. It's been a very long day."

"Oh, I'm sure it has." You rolled your eyes, sighing in exasperation.

Despite the sarcasm, you succumbed to his request, letting go of his annoyingly firm grasp in favor of continuing to finish your report. Hawks found himself relaxing into your thighs, overly hyper brain surprisingly calmed with the muted tapping of your keyboard.

After a few more minutes, you shifted, pushing his unsuspecting form onto the floor and giving a laugh at the pout overcoming his face. "Bathroom. I'll be two minutes, at the very most."

It was, in fact, just past one-hundred and twenty seconds by the time you returned. The hero was currently taking up occupancy in your swivel chair, oblivious to the confusion at which you glaring at your phone with.

"Do you somebody named Kano Kirisaki?" You asked.

"Who?" He asked without looking up.

"The Hound Hero. He's somewhere in the late sixties on the charts, I think?" Despite your career as a pro-sidekick, you weren't exactly overly concerned with the rankings.

"Oh," he replied, ignoring the urge to add a 'called it.' A tic of annoyance threatened to emerge on his forehead, but he did his best to ignore it. "What about him?"

"I just got a text. The guy said that you gave him my number. Is that true?"

That made him pause.

"He said what?" The vexation simmering in his copper gaze was downright terrifying, only extenuated by the slow upturn of his chin as his eyes met yours.

"Apparently not." You made a beeline for the door, device still in hand and fingers typing away. "I'll just let him know that-"

Something whizzed past your face and you came to an abrupt halt, feeling the breath of air over your cheek as the object whirled by and just barely missed you.

You blinked, taking a moment to recognize what had just happened. You hadn't been hit, but the object previously in your hand?

Less lucky.

Spinning around in shock, you were met with the stupefied face of Hawks, who was currently staring in horror at the item stuck in the wall and the feather protruding out of it.

He just skewered your phone.

You turned again, silently walking over and yanking the hardened plume out before inspecting the damage. The screen had been shattered, the back cameras also blown to bits from the harsh impact.

"Oh, fuck." The hero stood, movements quick and panicked as he ran over to you. "Oh, shit. I am so sorry."

"What the fuck?" The sentence was less of an aggressive statement, more of an actual, bewildered question. Seeing as how completely flabbergasted you were, it was almost hard to be genuinely angry for the first few seconds.

"I swear, I don't know why I did that," he assured, running a hand through his hair in alarm. "But I'll get you a new one. That model was kinda old anyways."

You scoffed. "Oh, thank goodness. I was hoping to get a replacement. How wonderful that you happened to impale this one."

His arm caught yours as you turned to leave, forcing your line of sight to meet his. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Against your best efforts, you felt your chest lighten a bit at the tenderness he was regarding you with. It was almost impossible to stay cold when the guy you had been admiring for weeks was looking at you like that. "I just don't... I just need you to know that you can be honest with me. I don't know what's wrong, but if there's anythi-"

Your eyes shot open as his mouth smashed against yours, taking a pause before fluttering to a close.

One of his hands curled into your hair, the other finding its way around your waist. His kiss traveled over your jaw, trailing until it was above your collarbone.

With his enhanced senses, it was easy to tell what areas you were most sensitive. He relished in every pleasured breath, the way your heart rate would speed up when he bit down ever so gently.

It took a tangible amount of self-control to keep himself from jumping you when the smallest whine fell from your lips. Instead, he lifted his leg in between your thighs, watching your form falter as a spark of warmth shot through your abdomen.

You around an arm across his shoulder, an attempt to steady yourself as you watched him pull away, arrogant grin gracing his features and eyes glowing softly. Their soft luminescence was nothing less than beautiful and you silently questioned why you hadn't scheduled more late night patrols. His fingers grazed underneath your shirt, tickled the skin of your waist with their gentle warmth.

The breath had escaped your lungs, but it was nearly impossible to keep the smile from your features. "What the fuck happened in that interview?"

Hawks chuckled, touch brushing over the small mark on your collarbone that he had left behind. His heart jumped at the thought of leaving more, leaving zero questions about who you belonged to. "Nothing that you need to worry about, sweetheart."

It was less than a day by the time you got your new phone.

#mha hawks #bnha imagines #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #hawks bnha #hawks x you #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #keigo x reader #mha imagines #mha #bnha #hawks #hawks imagine

1K notes · View notes

matryosika · 8 months

Text

The Look

Pairing: Hyunjin x fem!reader Wordcount: 2,159 words Genre: Smut (18+) Includes: Ex!hyunjin, mentions of break up and indications of an unhealthy relationship (nothing too detailed or specific). Possesiveness, a bit of angst if you squint. Infidelity? But not really? It's nothing too serious, anyway. Smut warnings under the cut. Author's Note: Wrote this TODAY. Everybody say congratulations on overcoming your writer's block Femme! It honestly has been a fucking while since I wrote anything, so this is news to me really. To be really honest I didn't want to get anywhere with this, I just felt like indulging myself with the "we shouldn't be doing this" kind of trope, so this is what it came out! Please remember that english is not my first language and this is not proofread, so I apologize for any mistakes in advance. If you like this, please leave a comment/reblog/ask and let me know what you think! AND if you wish to support my work further, you can buy me a ko-fi! The link it's in my pinned post. I love you for even reading me.

Smut warnings: Sex in a public place (club's restroom). Unprotected vaginal sex mentions of a condom but they ended up not using it anyways. Lots of dirty talking and physical touch. No kissing at all because they're exes and they don't go around kissing each other, apparently (but they do fuck so... ?). Jealous and possesive Hyunjin. Creampie. Multiple orgasms, overstimulation, use of petnames (baby and pretty). Hyunjin is kind of controlling, not in a dom kind of way but in a "I know you better than you know yourself" kind of way.

“He can’t make you feel like I do, can he?”

It's hard to think coherently and give him a proper answer when his cock is hitting the deepest spots within you. Repeatedly.

Not only that, but he's holding your hips in the angle he knows best.

Hyunjin is right, no one can make you feel like he does. In every sense of the sentence.

“He doesn’t know how to fuck you like this, right?” The queries continue, plump lips dragging along your jaw and chin with no other purpose than to feel your skin. Despite you two ending things, seemingly for good, you somehow always found yourself in the same situation: against him, or on top of him, or underneath him. “I know you don’t let him”.

You're reminded of whatever he is talking about when you feel the rubber of the condom inside your hand, gripping it just as harshly as your walls clench around Hyunjin's dick.

He is right again, you don’t let your new conquer fuck you raw like he is doing right now. Shit, you haven't even let him fuck you at all.

That is not something your ex boyfriend should know about.

“Baby,” the pet name slips off your lips and it sends shivers down Hyunjin's spine. It has been a while since he has heard you calling him that, but it still has the exact same effect.

Perhaps it's now boosted, considering neither of you should be fucking each other at this point. At least not now, that you've started dating men again.

Nothing too serious, but you've tried to convince everyone that you're already over your ex boyfriend. And if by over you mean completely obsessed and desperate for the way only he knows how to fuck you, then yes: you are over him.

“Feels good?” Hyunjin asks through gritted teeth, pressing his forehead against yours. You can feel tears of his sweat mixing with yours, his fresh and minty breath fanning your cheeks and eyelashes. You nod desperately, swallowing thickly in hopes of being able to articulate a single, monosyllabic word. Yet the way he feels inside your pussy is too overwhelming to even let you form a coherent response. “Do you really think he could fuck you hard like this? Make you this wet?”

He could, but you're never going to know anyway.

“That’s why you keep crawling back to me,” he gasps, squeezing his eyes shut when he feels your walls convulsing around him, “that's why you keep letting me fuck you”.

It was for the best, you repeat yourself every time he thrusts his cock deeper inside you. It was for the best, but that doesn't necessarily mean it was what you wanted.

Ending things off with Hyunjin seemed like the only way to go —you two just didn't work out, no matter how hard each one of you tried.

You loved each other, but it was kind of a sick love, a poisonous one. One would think they'll be able to live through it, but it eventually consumes you.

It ignites a fire that can never be put down. And living amongst flames it's not exactly what either of you were looking for.

“Right there,” you cry out, the pathetic sounds being drowned by the music and party bustle happening outside the club's restroom where your date is patiently waiting for you.

Does he know Hyunjin is fucking you just meters away from him? Does he know you're going back home with a sore pussy and cum trailing down your legs?

Hyunjin’s cock twitches at the idea of him finding out you’re being dicked down by none other than your ex.

The one you claim to be over with.

The one whose memory, you assured, wasn't a threat to a new relationship.

“Yeah, right here?” Damned be him, who knows you maybe too well. You suppress a scream when his palm digs into the flesh of your lower tummy, pressing down hard where the tip of his cock is brushing the deepest spots within you, “can you feel me here? Can you feel how hard my dick is?”

You moan in response.

You can feel him there, and everywhere. You can feel his slim fingers pressed against the flesh of your hips. You can feel the tip of his nose buried on your neck, and his lips leaving a wet trail everywhere they go. You can feel his pulse, his heavy breathing.

The despair of being without fucking you for so long.

“That’s it,” Hyunjin groans when he feels you grinding your hips against his, lifting them up ever so slightly over the restroom sink. When you start forcing yourself against him, to do anything to feel him closer, he knows you're close to cumming. “That’s it, pretty, come and get what you want from me like you always do”.

You have no other choice but to arch your back, the overwhelming pleasure taking control not only of your limbs but your whole body. You wrap your arms around Hyunjin's neck and your legs around his hips tightly, pulling him as close as humanly possible.

“Just like that,” he praises you, licking his lips when his eyes fall to where your bodies connect.

Hyunjin feels like he could come with that sight alone, but he needs to elongate it. What if you go back home with the man you're supposed to be on a date with, and decide that you want something serious with him? What if it's the last time he ever gets to fuck you?

Hyunjin can't just come like that. He can't come without engraving the way your body feels inside his brain.

He can't come without letting his mouth speak freely what his pride doesn't allow him to say on a regular day.

Hyunjin can't come just yet. He needs you a bit more. A little bit longer.

“C-coming,” you sob against his neck, feeling him holding you tightly when your body trembles almost aggressively, “don’t stop, Hyunjin. D-don’t fucking stop”.

Not that he intended to.

Instead, he pushes his hips harder. Deeper. His hands move from your hips to your ass, and he uses his grip as leverage to piston even rougher inside you.

So much so, you wince in pain. You don't want him to stop, but you can feel the built up tension exploding little by little.

Like fireworks, one after the other.

“See?” Hyunjin groans, taking it upon him to help you ride your high. He doesn't slow down, despite how your nails are digging into his hair and the flesh of his nape. “We've broken up but your body still remembers me. You’re still so weak for me”.

You hate how right he is, but you can't argue back.

After going without each other for so long, almost 4 months, you didn't expect your body to react like this to his touch.

But it appears as if it has a mind of its own, one to which you have no access to.

“No,” you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut. The waves of pleasure travel from your core to the tip of your toes, and from your erect nipples to the thin hairs on your arms. You’re covered in goosebumps and can barely even remember any other name that’s not Hyunjin’s. “I’m not- I’m just-”.

It’s pointless to try and say something back. You're making a fool of yourself and you know it, but it seems as if your dignity always appears right at the epitome of the post-nut clarity.

With Hyunjin's dick still inside you, you know such clarity is not going to last long, but you're going to hold on to it for as good as it lasts.

“You’re just what?” He taunts you, guiding one of your hands from your arse to your face. He takes your cheeks and cups them, forcing your lips into a pathetic pout. “Desperate for me? For my touch?”

You try to shake your head as a way of saying no because your mouth can only do so much, but Hyunjin keeps you in place.

“No?” He asks you, frustration lingering on his tone. “Wasn’t this what you wanted all night long?”

4 months ago, things seemingly followed the natural course of them.

After much fucking and bickering, even after having broken up, you two parted ways —Hyunjin immersed himself in his profession, and you did the same. The late night calls weren't taken as frequently, and the drunken messages stopped receiving any sort of response.

It seemed as if you were already over each other —not only over the relationship, but those strange encounters you kept on having too.

That was, of course, way long before tonight's affair.

“No,” you whine yet again, trying to convince yourself that all that is happening wasn’t provoked and invited by you. “I was just- with my date”.

“And where is that date of yours right now, pretty?” His voice is trembling, but Hyunjin still manages to keep his composure.

He has always been the one to have the last word in everything, that much you know. And how could he not, when his voice stands strong even at moments like this, when his mind is completely losing control.

“You don’t even know, right?”

He teases you, mouth slightly agape while a series of grunts and gasps escape his lips.

Sadly, he is getting closer.

“You don’t even know where he is because you stopped caring about him the minute you saw me, right?” The cockiness in his voice is a painful reminder that you're not as strong-willed as you think you are. Not only that, but it also reminds you of how true Hyunjin is. “You’re so easy to read, so f-fucking easy”.

You clench around him when you hear how he struggles to keep on talking. The way he runs out of breath, and each groan that follows every word is getting you going way more than it should.

“That gaze of yours-” Hyunjin continues, nibbling at his plump bottom lip while his cat-like eyes find yours in the middle of the neon lights, “always tells me exactly what you want”.

The look. The sight that will be forever imprinted in Hyunjin’s mind for good.

That look you used to give him when you were on your knees, with your hands wrapped around his length and the tip of his cock hitting the deepest part in your throat.

That look you always gave him when the tip of his dick slid for the first time that night inside of you, along with that sigh of relief that escaped your lips every time it happened.

The look.

When you saw him standing right across from you at the club, Hyunjin could decipher your gaze easily.

After all, he is the one who knows you the most.

“And I know this is what you want, right?” He asks you, increasing the speed of his thrusts. They get rougher as they get sloppier, completely losing the steady and sensual rhythm he set at first.

You press your lips in a thin line, shutting your eyes close right after they threaten to start spilling tears from them.

Hyunjin is always too much to take, and you're not sure if you love it or hate it.

“I know you miss me just as much as I do,” Hyunjin gasps, salty drops of sweat traveling from his temples to your chest and tummy. “You can try to get over me, but I know you won't,” each word is accompanied by a harsh thrusts of his hips.

It feels like a threat, but it's a fact.

“You don’t want to get over me, you just want to pretend,” he's fully aware of how loud he is being. How whiny his words are coming off, how desperate he sounds overall. But he can’t help himself, not when he is so close to tasting that sweet relief he has been craving for months now. “You can fuck- every man you want-, but it is always going to be me who you think about when you're coming around their cocks”.

With that, he lets out a raspier, more primal grunt. One that’s explosive enough to stop him right on his tracks, breathing heavily while his head hangs low.

You can feel his dick twitching inside of you, just right after you came around him for the third time tonight.

Unexpected, without a warning.

Your orgasm washed over you just as quickly as Hyunjin's did. With a dry throat and strangled breath you look at each other, feeling his hot arousal pumping inside you, painting your walls white.

One would think that there's nothing left to say. Not when you're in this state of frenzy, completely unaware of your surroundings.

But, as usual, Hyunjin has to have the last word.

“That is, if they can get you to come at all”.

#kpop smut #stray kids smut #skz smut #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut

534 notes · View notes

lovebugism · 1 year

Note

the customer’s always right just gave me life, they're just so sweet AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

THE CUSTOMER'S ALWAYS RIGHT | heart-shaped

summary: you think you might be falling in love with eddie. eddie thinks he might be falling for you. a series of stashed away insecurities threaten to get in the way. pairing: virgin!eddie munson / f!reader word count: 10k holy moly warnings: talks of drugs, shitty boyfriends, and being a whore <3 also reader gets fingered <3 a lil bit of angst, smut 18+ mdni a/n: ah shit here we go again!! thanks for waiting so patiently for me to get over my writer's block and finally post! reading all the feedback for this series has been so nice, all of you guys are so so sweet <333 anyway, pls enjoy this installment and if you don't.. maybe don't tell me :^) happy reading ily!

( PREVIOUSLY) | ( MASTERLIST ) | ( NEXT )

Truth be told, working the lunch rush at Enzo’s wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

It meant you got to miss out on serving all the wine snobs at dinner who send back devoured dishes like it’s their job — insistent on a refund because their food was “unsatisfactory” just to get twice the meal with half the tip.

The rich country club goers you waited on were far more docile in comparison. They arrive dressed in pastel-collared shirts and pretty athletic dresses after finishing up their tennis practices or games of golf.

They sit and talk for hours, dine on the most expensive shrimp and wine, just to leave a tip so ginormous that you have to thank them before they go. It’s a flaunt of wealth more than anything. It might’ve felt the least bit demeaning if it wasn’t going directly into your pockets.

And it would be way too lame of you to say that getting to see Eddie Munson after your shift was the only thing getting you through it at all. That sort of puppy love belonged to high schoolers who don't know any better, you know that… But screw it— knowing you were going to meet him after was the only thing getting you through this mind-numbing, foot-aching, brain-cell-losing, eight-hour shift.

The days, of which there had been four (but, then again, who’s counting?), had been excruciating without him.

You couldn’t even sleep the first night you left his trailer. You felt him everywhere — your mouth, your chest, and between your legs — still buzzing with his touch even halfway across Hawkins.

It had you swearing up and down that the Dungeon Master had some actual powers you didn’t know about. That he’d cast some sort of love spell on you after getting you to come on his thigh.

You quickly learned that Eddie Munson was the kind of boy that girls lose sleep over; the kind of boy that reduces you to your basic schoolgirl tendencies as you grin into your pillow and kick your feet in the air.

It was embarrassing, the effect he had on you.

And you so desperately wanted to blame it on whatever witchcraft the town thought the leader of Hellfire possessed. It was easier than facing the fact that you were head over heels for a stupid boy.

You didn’t even have time to face it, really, because you were already too busy falling for him. He had you tripping all over yourself and face-planting into the petals of a thousand roses — it was pathetic.

You’d catch yourself smiling whenever you thought of him, grinning like an idiot while you rang up customers at the register — more ecstatic at the idea of Eddie than the hundred-dollar tip they’d left you. It made you giddy to think about seeing him again, enough that it distracted you from the fact that you hadn’t sat down since your shift started.

Eddie had you full of sunshine and rainbows and mirth, like something out of a damn GAP commercial. It was a particular sort of happiness you thought abandoned you a long, long time ago.

Apparently, you were wrong.

You think of Eddie, and a foreign feeling of anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach. It almost makes you sick with childlike excitement. You didn’t know another person was capable of making someone this happy. It’s unfamiliar and daunting and euphoric and really fucking scary.

It’s an otherworldly feeling that feels like it’s only happening to you. A secret you want to keep to yourself and shout from the rooftops at the same time. People bustle around you, keep on living their mundane lives, and spare not a glance to their lovesick waitress.

No one knows I’m falling in love right now, you find yourself thinking.

But that isn’t exactly true. Jim Hopper knows because that asshole knows everything, and notices almost immediately how strange you’re acting.

The chief of police was always a comforting sight amidst a sea of strangers, most of whom made more in a week than you could ever hope to make in a year. He's a breath of fresh air, as it were, which is strange considering the two of you spent the entirety of your high school career playing cat and mouse.

He’d catch you smoking, threaten to turn you in, and you’d beg him not to — pull out all the stops, the puppy dog eyes, the innocent schoolgirl charm, the whole damn nine to make him melt.

He’d take pity on you and let you off with a warning, as long as you promised never to do it again. And you’d lie to him, tell him it was a one-time thing, and he’d catch you a week or so later — getting high at the quarry or with your hand shoved down the pants of a man too old for you at Lover’s Lake.

And the cycle would keep on repeating for the next four agonizing years until you graduated.

Strangely, somewhere along the line, the two of you became pretty good friends.

Everyone once in a while, he’ll stop by Enzo’s during his breaks to keep you company. He never actually orders food, though, just binges on the endless free breadsticks until the buttons of his uniform threaten to pop. He'll bathe in yellow candlelight and chi-antee for an hour or more and then leave you a too big tip you always have to fight about when he goes.

Your pour the crimson colored wine he’d ordered into his rounded glass, flashing him the label before describing the vintage to him, per your boss’s demand.

It feels foreign to be so formal in front of Hopper — because, after catching you with a mouthful of Tommy Hagan in a car back in '83, nothing makes either of you uncomfortable anymore. But sometimes it feels like your asshole manager is lurking over your shoulder every damn second of the day.

And having a job is more important than your pride, you figure.

“This is a medium-bodied, acidic tart, ruby red wine. The earthy aroma pairs nicely with the cherry and strawberry notes…” and blah, blah, blah. You’ve repeated the same couple of lines so often you’ve started to say them in your sleep.

“Well, shit, teacup. If you put that much effort into school, you coulda been valedictorian,” Jim quips with a signature dad smirk that’s half-hidden beneath his bushy mustache.

It’s not the first time he’s made that dumb joke, and it won’t be the last.

You roll your eyes more at the nickname than the backhanded compliment, because it isn’t your fault the sasquatch is six-foot-four.

“How much is this one gonna cost me?” he asks you and leans in his plush seat to reach for the wallet in his back pocket.

“Don’t worry about it, lurch. It’s on the house.”

A mischievous glint twinkles in Jim’s eye as he squints up at you. He tucks the leather back into his khakis. “Sure Enzo won’t mind?” he asks you because he hasn’t yet bothered to acknowledge that your boss wasn’t actually named Enzo.

“Yeah, he’ll be pissed,” you confirm with a shrug. “I just don’t care.”

“Well, you’re in an unrealistically good mood after the lunch rush,” he sing-songs.

You don’t miss the suspicious lilt in his voice. Your smile is equally sarcastic and sickly sweet as you tell him: “It’s ‘cause my favorite customer is here—”

“Yeah, I don’t buy that,” he interjects with a curt shake of his head. He sits up straighter and leans his elbows on the white linen cloth of the table like he means business. “Who’s the boy?”

“What— I don’t— What are you— boy?” you sputter with a half-hearted laugh. Your stammering isn’t the least bit convincing.

“It’s a boy, right?” he monotones. “You only get all giddy and gross like this when there’s a boy.”

You hate that he knows you so well. It might’ve been sweet if it wasn’t totally infuriating.

To be fair, you did tend to wear your heart on your sleeve, even when you didn’t want to. When you were falling in love, it poured out of you like sunshine and blinded anyone who dared to look too closely.

Golden rays shoot from your fingertips, shine in the irises of your eyes, and flash from your smile — like the one tugging at the edges of your lips now.

It leaves no room to deny what he already knows: that you’re a stupid girl with a stupid crush on a stupid boy because she hasn’t learned from her stupid mistakes.

“Fine,” you concede with your sheepish gaze flitted to the ceiling. “It’s— It’s dumb. It’s a silly crush, it doesn’t mean anything.”

Hopper nods, like he’s giving you some kind of blessing. “Good for you. It’s about time you moved on from that asshole— what was his name again? Harrington?”

It makes you roll your eyes. You can’t tell if he’s actually confused or if he’s making fun of you. It would be all too like a middle-aged man to make a misogynistic joke about a girl who’s had more partners than years she’s been alive.

“Hargrove,” you correct in a monotone. Your tone is as bitter as thinking about him makes you feel.

“Him, too,” he quips.

There it is.

“It’s not even like that, okay? It’s not like anything,” you try and deflect like you aren’t beaming and trying horribly to hide it. “He… He probably doesn’t even like me like that.”

“Well, it’s about time you got over that boy, is all I’m saying. You deserve a good guy. A boy treats you right, who has actual aspirations in life, and keeps his nose clean—” he rambles as he brings the wine to his mouth to take a drink. He stops himself to ask: “What's his name again?”

You fidget ahead of him, shifting your weight on your feet awkwardly because good guy who stays out of trouble and has actual aspirations in life isn’t how most people would describe the Munson boy. Jim least of all.

He’s got a similar relationship with Eddie to the one he had with you, though there was little room for friendship between the two. It’s just an outlaw making a living on drugs and a chief trying to catch him dealing it.

“Eddie,” you answer and then clear your throat. “Uh, Eddie Munson…”

The life leaves Jim’s eyes.

There’s no amount of wine in Enzo’s cellar that could’ve prepared him for that — or you, for the twenty-minute lecture that followed.

“I have no words,” he’d scolded you like a disappointed parent but proceeded to rant for nearly half an hour after the fact, in true fatherly fashion.

Hopper knows when you’re falling in love. It’s all sunshine and rainbows and blue skies. It’s all so sweet he could gag. But there’s always another side of that coin — a dark, colder, meaner one.

Because sometimes boys are cruel, sometimes you really are in over your head, and sometimes relationships don’t work out. And when things go bad, they go rotten, and he has to deal with the storm cloud you become after the fact.

Taking care of you becomes his part-time job, and his check-ins become endless as he makes sure you don’t fall back into your old ways — using and getting used.

And truth be told, you don’t have the best track record with men, and Hopper tries to tell you all this, but it doesn’t get through.

Because you have a good feeling about this. About Eddie.

Fuck all the rest.

Today marks your thirteenth meeting with Eddie.

For such an unlucky number, it’s got you squirming from all the butterflies fluttering in your belly with an excitement more innocent than you’re used to. Like standing in the queue for a rollercoaster in a childlike mixture of apprehension and animation, somehow both frightened and enraptured for what’s to come.

And you’re absolutely bouncing with it. Smiling to yourself in the car with the radio turned all the way up and the windows all the way down, thrumming your fingers on the steering wheel as you belt the lyrics to “Super Trouper” with a beam that could make the sunshine cower.

It’s all completely and utterly perfect until you become suddenly aware of how unearthly happy you are.

Then it hits you like a ton of bricks and you shrink into yourself because… maybe you shouldn’t feel this way. The last time you saw Eddie, he came in his jeans and you got off on his thigh — there was never any room for daydreaming and pining and puppy love-ing, not when you so quickly gave yourself away.

The thought of Eddie not nearly being as happy to see you is what hurts the most. How he had you once and now you’re back to just being the customer he sees once a week.

What if he doesn’t give you weed for free anymore? Fuck that — what if you’re not his favorite?

And maybe it’s just you, maybe you’re the problem. Maybe you should be passed the point of giddy excitement, maybe it’s uncool, maybe you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve and it’s leaving the door open for too much hurt. Maybe Hopper was right.

But you’re happy, at least for right now, and you don’t get the chance to be too often.

Most days, you’re just an accessory — a pretty pebble someone finds on the ground and spends a couple of seconds ogling at before leaving and never thinking about again.

You deserve the chance to be held, don’t you? You should get to be praised and coddled and worshipped like the pretty girls do.

And Eddie makes you feel held.

So you’ll stick around until he gets bored of you, until you stop being so fun for him. You’ll take the moments of happiness as they’re spoon-fed to you and taste them, really taste them, until you’re starving again. You’ll stay full of this pure puppy love you have for Eddie until it’s time for you to go.

Because, for now, you’re happy. And isn’t that what matters most?

You don’t know it, but Eddie’s caught in a similar dilemma.

He waits for you at the bench you meet him at every week, like you’ve done for months now, but he’s filled with an unfamiliar gaiety as he anticipates your arrival.

He’s so goddamn excited to see you that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It borders on a slight uneasiness that makes him sick to his stomach.

Eddie never gets nervous around customers. Not once, not ever.

He’s dealt to weirdos who live on the wrong side of the track, preppy douchebags that shove him into lockers at school, and pretty cheerleaders who pretend he doesn’t exist outside of dealing.

He’s seen it all, really. But you’re the one that’s got him bouncing his knee something fierce beneath the table and tapping his fingers against the rotted top of it while his heart races a million miles a minute.

He’s frightened of being too overeager. He’s scared that you’ll come here, all cool and collected about all of it, and he’ll be the freak show acting like a pretty girl’s never given him an ounce of attention before. They haven’t, but he’d rather not project that sort of disposition. Not to you, at least.

He guesses, more than anything, he’s just afraid of scaring you away.

So Eddie tries to keep the smile on his face hidden — not knowing that it’s your favorite part about him. He tries to be as stoic as possible. He wants to be this cool and mysterious and sexy guy he thinks you want, having no idea that you’d already fallen in love with him before he even realized he needed to be those things for you.

He’s just about able to wash away his grin when he sees you emerge from the woods and into the small clearing where the lone picnic table lives.

The pinky plaid skirt you wear rustles against your legs with the breeze, the pleated edges brushing against the skin of your thighs. You pair it with a white piece of Beatles merch that clings to your torso — and fuck he hates the Beatles, but you’re the prettiest thing his cynical eyes have ever seen.

He’s beaming at you before he even realizes it. And by the time he does, he doesn’t feel like the idiot he thought he would.

You’re both sporting matching grins, trying to hide them and failing miserably. His is pursed softly to the side and yours is pulled between your teeth.

You look like the rays of sunlight filtering through the trees, Eddie thinks to himself.

His eyes must be the golden of them, you conclude.

When you settle on the bench in front of him, you tuck your skirt neatly beneath you and focus on smoothing out than fabric rather than meet the boy’s gaze. You sport a meek smile and a pair of fidgeting hands that ache to touch him.

“Hi,” you greet sheepishly.

He sees your face scrunch in embarrassment at how shy you sound, and the way you almost reach out for his hand but stop yourself just as quickly. He wishes you wouldn’t. He wishes you knew how perfect you were, even when you weren’t totally graceful.

“Hi,” he repeats with a mocking, but no less loving grin, tilting his head towards his shoulder. “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know… overworked and underpaid,” you shrug. “Just the usual.”

You’re grateful for the small talk. It leaves little room for the awkwardness swimming in your belly. He doesn’t immediately mention what happened the last time you saw him, like people often do when they want to do it all over again. But he isn’t in a hurry to give you your weed so you’ll leave him alone either. That's what people usually do when they want nothing to do with you anymore.

It’s almost like it never happened.

Or rather, like it did, and he isn’t treating it like a spectacle.

It’s refreshing.

“Boss giving you a hard time?”

“Oh, always. I’m pretty sure that’s what he gets paid to do, actually.”

“Right,” he breathes out a laugh.

Silence hangs in the air for a moment, just a blink of a second, but it’s noticeable. The sudden quiet floats on the cool breeze that ruffles Eddie’s wild hair and sends a shiver down your spine.

In a split-second decision, you decide not to deprive yourself of the urge to touch him. Partly to distract from the stillness, but mostly because the ache had reached a fever pitch.

You’re so enthralled by his hands resting upon the old wood — the veins that decorate the back of them like the roots of a tree, the way his fingers thrum to a beat only he can hear, and the rings that wrap around them.

“Is this new?” you wonder aloud. You take his wrist in one hand and trace the glinting silver on his pointer finger with the other. It’s the bony fingers of a skeleton curved to form a heart. He’s taped the sides to make it fit better. It didn’t belong to him before now.

Eddie watches, pleasantly surprised, as you dote on him.

Your eyes glitter golden beneath an early setting sun. They dance with amusement as your fingertip traces his heart-shaped ring. He smiles to himself and wonders how often you’re looking at his hands to notice he’s got a new ring on.

“Oh, yeah,” he shrugs. He plays it cool, like his heart isn’t thrumming like a hummingbird in his chest at your touch. “Got it a couple days ago at the thrift store outside of town. It was a whole seventy-five cents.”

“I like it. It’s cute.”

“Cute?” he repeats with a scrunched nose and blushing face.

It makes you giggle. “Yeah. You can be cute and badass at the same time, you know?”

“I didn’t know those were mutually exclusive.”

“They weren’t. Not until you came into the world, Eddie Munson.”

He feels cold when you drag your hand away. The kind, almost teasing grin you flash his way warms him all over again. He’s still trying to get used to being so loved on.

You can see the way he gets lost in you for a moment. His cinnamon-tinted gaze, made golden in the sunlight, glazes over as his head gets stranded in the clouds.

The only reason you notice it is because it happens to you. Eddie makes it so terribly easy to float in the deep galaxy of his eyes. Your heart swells to know that it’s happening to him now. Happening to him because he’s looking at you.

You didn’t know you were the kind of girl people could get lost in.

Eddie clears his throat and shakes his head, mostly to himself, but enough to jostle the soft curls that frame his face and sit above his eyes.

“Well, I’m honored, sweetheart,” he grins his signature grin, the bright and cocky one, though he’s too shy to make it reach his eyes now. He busies himself and his restless fingers by rifling through the product sitting in the tin box at his side — baggies full of green nuggets and white powdery pills.

“So, uh, what’s on the menu this week? The usual?”

“I’ve still got my stash from last week,” you confess. “Haven’t really had the time to smoke it yet.”

His eyes flit up to yours again. “…Yeah?” is all he can think to say to you because internally he’s buzzing — you didn’t even need weed, he thinks to himself, you just wanted to see him.

You only shrug. “I’ve just been, like, crazy busy this week.”

Eddie nods understandingly, but can’t help but to joke: “Is that why you haven’t called?”

Because, fuck, if the past couple of days without talking to you haven’t been complete and total agony. He knows it’s a little too brash and brave of him to wonder why you went AWOL when he hasn’t exactly made an effort to seek you out either.

Not for lack of wanting to, though. He’d like to put that on record.

“Well, I didn’t call because I don’t have your number,” you retort with a smile that toes the line between cunning and timidity. “So, you can’t really blame me for that.”

He huffs dramatically. “Guess not.”

“It’s probably for the best. If I could call you, I’d never leave you alone.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d want you to,” he dismisses your negative talk with ease.

You warm with his words and duck your gaze on instinct. You keep your eyes on your hands while you fidget with your fingers, wishing that they were his instead. “Just don’t want to bother you or whatever, you know?”

“You could never bother me.”

“Promise?” you ask him. Your smile is playful, but your words are sincere.

Eddie’s is much of the same. “Cross my heart.”

“How about this — I give you my number and you just call whenever you’re free,” you offer, more confident at the boy’s admission and glowing with it. “‘Cause, you know, Wayne probably wouldn’t appreciate me clogging up the phone line very much.”

“He wouldn’t notice… Or care,” he tells you and pulls out an old pen from his tin box. His sparkling deep brown eyes stay locked on you as you rise from your side of the bench and round the table to sit next to him.

You’re obviously not as nervous as he’d been at the trailer all those nights ago, when he had to practically be beckoned over to realize you wanted him beside you.

You sit opposite him, with your knees pointed away from the bench. You get to be closer to him this way. Your thigh presses against his as you twist towards him, your chest mere inches from his arm, your mouth even closer.

You write a series of numbers on his forearm that Eddie can’t make out because he’s too busy looking at you. He admires the frown between your brows as you struggle to get the ink to write and the way your lips purse to the side in concentration.

“Wayne would actually be pretty stoked I was talking to a girl—” he jokes with a laugh though he’s quick to cut himself off like he’d said something he wasn’t supposed to.

His admission was supposed to be funny, something the rest of Hellfire would’ve laughed at because they know him. But you don’t, and he doesn’t really want you to. You’ve already got this idea of him in your head. He lives in agony that he won’t be able to live up to it.

He’ll just have to fake it, he concludes. Fake it until he doesn’t recognize himself anymore.

Fortunately enough for him, you don’t read into his words too much.

“He wants you to settle down, huh?” you joke back, half-distracted as you doodle a heart onto his skin.

“Wants me to move out, more like.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate the bed.”

Eddie scoffs. “Yeah, right. That old geezer’s practically in love with his Laz-E-Boy.”

He watches with glimmering eyes as you laugh. Then he’s smiling because you’re smiling. He isn’t sure how else he’s supposed to look at you. How could anyone possibly look at you and not hold so much love in their eyes?

You haven’t yet let go of his arm, he notices, as you cradle his wrist in your grasp and swipe your thumb over the blotchy blue veins there. Your gaze is pointed down to where you hold him. There’s a distant grin on your face as you admire such a minute piece of him.

He wants so badly to kiss you.

He could. All he’d have to do, really, is move his head a couple inches and he’d brush the apple of your cheek. The skin would warm against his lips until he ducked down to kiss you for real.

And he feels just bold enough to ask you, but not quite enough to say the words out loud. Instead, they sit impatiently on the edge of his tongue while he waits for the right moment to say them. The wind blows, and it passes.

“It wouldn’t be totally crazy if I kissed you right now, would it?” you ask him first, looking at him through your lashes like you’re scared he might reject you.

He glows pink, momentarily stunned that you beat him to the punch, then worried that you might’ve read his mind. He plays it cool with a shrug and a shake of his head. “No… Not unless it’s totally crazy how bad I want you to kiss me right now.”

You don’t waste any time. You gravitate towards him like you were made to do it and he meets you easily halfway.

When your lips lock, it feels like a routine. Kissing you is like a cup of coffee and the morning paper and a rocking chair on a front porch — something he could do forever and ever and not get bored of.

You kiss him so soft, more gentle than anyone’s ever been with him, but your tongue swipes into his open mouth, and it’s dirty.

Eddie still isn’t sure how a person could touch him the way you do. You’re all sweet, like you’re frightened you might break him, but you aren’t scared to kiss him like he’s yours.

As good as it feels to have him against you this way, the position you’re in isn’t any less awkward. Your upper-half is still twisted to face him and he has to lean slightly over to touch you completely.

He explores the cavern of your mouth with a more confident tongue than you remember him having while ten ringed fingers press into your ribs.

Eddie can feel your mouth contort in a smile. He thinks it’s because he’s tickling you, but you’re just in love and totally giddy with it.

The wooden edge of the bench digs into your spine. The ache distracts you from feeling him the way you want to — the way you need to — so you make a split-second decision to rise from your seat and rest your bottom on the table.

Your lips click wetly, almost out of protest, when they part.

You use the palms of your hands to lift you and prop your sneakers on the bench seat when you sit down again. You wait patiently for Eddie to accommodate you, to rise and keep kissing you the way he was just kissing you.

He does. Eventually.

He just needed a few moments to gather himself when your new position flashes him the faintest glimpse of your panties — all black and dotted with little red hearts that have started to fade with time.

His eyes widen and he everts his gaze immediately. His cheeks and the tip of his nose go red, like he’d been caught looking at something he wasn’t supposed to be looking at. It’s sort of stupid. You were getting off on his thigh some days ago, and now you’re kissing him like you mean to swallow him whole, surely you wouldn’t mind him peeking.

If he were someone totally different, he might’ve spread your legs, dug his fingers into the fat of your thighs, and put his mouth on you like he wanted to do three nights ago — like he’s been wanting to do for ages.

But he doesn’t.

He just sits there, for what feels like forever, feeling like a total idiot.

But if you notice his hesitancy, you don’t show it. You just cup his warm cheeks in your hands and drag him up to you. Eddie isn’t enough of a dumbass to reject your affections.

He happily melts into your touch once more while the both of you maneuver like a bunch of lovesick teenagers around the bench — rather than just part momentarily to move more efficiently.

You round the table so you’re propped on the outside of it and Eddie’s no longer confined in the seat. If making out and multitasking was an olympic sport, you and Eddie would take the gold, no doubt.

It’s hopelessly high school, the way you make out like teenagers in some clearing, known only to Eddie’s most loyal customers and a golden orange sky.

It feels rebellious and raunchy, like you’ve just snuck out of Mr. Kaminsky’s lecture on chemical bonds to fuck under the bleachers. You kiss each other and it feels like you’re doing something so much more than yourselves.

Eddie touches you and you feel like a kid again. Everything’s just new experiences and stomachs full of butterflies — heartache is virtually nonexistent.

As far as you’re concerned, you’ve never been kissed before now.

You had no idea someone could hold so much love in their mouth and then kiss you with it. You’re so used to tongue and teeth and spit, not these slow and sweet pecks that feel like white clouds and summer rain.

Every now and then, Eddie will slot his kiss-bitten bottom lip between the plush of your swollen mouth. And he’ll just stay there, for several long moments, just to feel you. His ringed fingers rise to cradle your jaw to keep you against him. His nose knocks against the bridge of yours and his heavy breaths fan against your cupid’s bow.

You’re not sure why he does this, why he chooses to be so soft with you when he knows he could have you however he wants. You’re a kitten purring against his chest now, all pliable and willing for him, but he just likes how still and soft you are like this.

You let him kiss you the way he likes. You notice he takes acute infatuation with your bottom lip, biting softly and pulling at the skin until it’s a plump pink thing for him to suck into his mouth.

Every swipe of his tongue against yours is experimental and methodical. He finds what makes you exhale the heaviest moans and keeps doing that until you’re a puddle of a woman in his hands.

Oh, god. His hands.

It’s almost unfair how kind they are.

One keeps a steady, warm hold on your cheek. He can feel the way you start to soften as you lean more and more into his touch. The other has fallen to your thigh. His fingertips settle beneath the skirt you picked out specifically for him, but don’t move any further than that.

He just likes the feel of you, it seems, as he pets the softness of your skin. Occasionally, he’ll squeeze and marvel at the feeling of your thigh in his grasp and the way it makes you moan against him. The feeling of his silver rings against you makes chill bumps erupt on your skin.

You’re unsure if he knows the effect he has on you. Surely, he must, you figure — just days ago you were falling apart on his thigh and here you are now, willing to do it all over again.

He touches you like he knows. Like he takes pleasure in teasing you until you’re all but begging for more. And you’re not the least bit ashamed to do it, either. His touch, his hand down your panties, it isn’t a want — it’s a need.

You take Eddie’s wrist in your impatient hand, moving his palm further and further beneath your skirt until it’s pressed against the dampening cotton of your underwear. “Touch me, Eds,” you plead against his mouth, already breathless.

The boy tenses.

It’s a dream come true in the most literal sense, to feel you like this. You cling to his consciousness wherever he goes. You’ve spent so many nights plaguing his dreams that they’ve started to feel like nightmares. He’d wake up in the middle of the night, achingly hard and shuddering with cold sweats at the mere thought that he’d never get to have you the way he always dreamt of having you.

But it’s here now, lying beneath a heart-patterned cloth, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

He’s not scared of you exactly, just of everything else.

His hand has never gotten anyone off but himself. He’s scared that he won’t make you feel good, or worse, that he’ll hurt you — he’s scared of himself. He’s terrified of losing you and you’re not even his.

It’s everything else that frightens him, but not you. Not when you’ve got your legs spread out before him and begging him to touch you. Not when you act like you want to be his.

Rather than deprive himself of the dream of you, Eddie decides to hook his pointer finger around the hem of your panties and slide them to the side.

With your pussy concealed by the pleated skirt you wear, he’s forced to work blindly while he touches you. He doesn’t mind, though. He takes the opportunity to feel you as it’s presented to him on a silver platter — the softness of your lips, the trimmed mound of hair above them, the slick coating your warmed skin.

You feel like silk and velvet. A material that’s far too expensive to touch. It makes him feel like he’s ruining you in some way.

Eddie’s open-mouthed, heavy breaths fan against your lips, all nicotine and mint gum. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of him — billowing across your jaw, pressed between your thighs, fingers treating your pussy like it’s a piece of delicate art.

“More,” you beg in a dream-coated sigh and spread yourself further for him. You’ve got one hand twisted in his leather jacket and the other flipping up the skirt of your dress, putting yourself on display for him — a piece of delicate art indeed.

You’re laid out before him, all at once, bare and glistening with need.

He’s seen plenty of vaginas in his time, usually photographed in a centerfold of a magazine or half-blurry through a botched VHS tape. But, for obvious reasons, you’re quite different.

You’re beautiful. The kind of beauty that men would’ve fallen on their swords for a time ago, the kind you’re lucky to see in a lifetime. That’s a bit what it feels like to look at you. He looks at you, and he sees a cotton candy sunset over mountains that touch the clouds or clear blue waters that go on for infinity.

Even like this, with your pussy on display for him — in a moment that’s supposed to be dirty — it’s a serene sort of beautiful. You need to be hung up in a museum, Eddie thinks to himself, in the Louvre or some shit — because a freak show from the middle of nowhere shouldn’t get to just have you like this.

He slots his middle finger between your lips, for once not overthinking when the urge to feel you takes over. You soak his appendage with ease, the slick only adding to your softness. He dips down to the dimple of your opening and rises to the peak of your swelling clit. He notices how it makes you twitch against him.

It feels like being you’re touched for the first time. Unfolded and cherished like some sort of expensive gift. You’re not used to this sort of tenderness. No one’s taken things this slow with you before. The way he’s making you feel good is for him just as much as it is for you. It’s unfamiliarly blissful to be handled with so much care.

Eddie watches with heavy and attentive eyes as your head tips back, like you’re starting to drown in your own pleasure and unbothered to keep yourself afloat. Your contented sighs and gentle tremors spur him forward. Those subtle praises almost equal the pleas that spill from your kissed mouth.

It makes him stop worrying about how to do all this without being totally obvious that he’s never done any of it before.

Everything he knows, he’s gotten from poorly produced porn. He doesn’t want to treat you like that. Like you’re some toy or plaything or a game to be won. He wants to take things slow and treat you right because it’s becoming more and more obvious to him that no one’s ever done that for you.

He’ll be your first, if you’ll be his.

He finds himself grateful for how responsive you are. He doesn’t need to know everything there is to know about sex or ask you for direction like an idiot because your pussy tells him what to do.

You tremble every time the pad of his finger swipes against your clit. He can feel you clench around nothing every time he dips towards your opening, as if in a silent plea. You tell him what you like without saying anything, but rather by drenching him in clear-coated honey.

His eyes have trouble flitting away from your pleasure-ridden face and down to where he coaxes you open. His finger glistens with your wetness. Beneath a setting sun, it looks like the sparkling rays over an ocean.

“Fuck,” he huffs, almost moaning. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“Sorry…” you mutter meekly.

“What?” Eddie finds himself laughing softly, brows furrowing in confusion at your sudden embarrassment. That’s not the response he was expecting. “Why are you apologizing?”

Your skin burns hot at his question — no longer warmed from pleasure, but out of pure self-consciousness. It’s a conversation you’re used to now, but it hasn’t gotten any easier. With his finger still caught in your drenched pussy, you find it suddenly hard to meet his gaze and instead peer at him through your lashes.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “Some guys think it’s gross… And messy—”

“Screw ‘em,” he blurts. His brown eyes twinkle with a newfound confidence, not one of the unabashed metalhead drug dealer, but one of a boy whose head over heels for a girl who doesn’t know what it means to be truly cared for. “It’s sexy,” he assures you.

A shy smile hints at the corners of your lips, innocently comforted by the promise and pleased by the compliment. “Really?”

“I promise, sweetheart,” he tells you with a wholehearted nod. He means it more than anything he’s ever said. “Cross my goddamn heart.”

He leans in to press his lips against yours then, just because it feels right to, and you graciously accept his affection.

Eddie’s kisses come in innocent, loving pecks that are far too sweet in comparison to the way he’s making you feel. His finger traces the slick gathering at your opening, not having to force his way in because your pussy is more than wanting.

Both of you let out low moans when he’s finally inside of you. He doesn’t stop until the silver of his ring is pressed into the outside of your pussy.

You’re wrapped around him like velvet, warm and tight velvet that won’t let him go. He works hard to find a steady rhythm that you like and watches your every reaction intently.

You’ve got your lip dragged between your teeth, biting so hard that the fragile skin has started to blanch. Your eyes have fluttered slowly shut with a frown forming between your brows in a vague concentration as you focus on your own pleasure.

You seem to like it most when he’s crooking his finger rather than thrusting them inside of you. At least, that’s what he assumes, as he reaches a much softer spot within you that makes you jolt against him.

Your hand darts to his wrist, not to tug him away or pull him any closer, just to tether yourself to him.

“Can you— fuck—” you sputter when the palm of his hand bumps against your clit. “Can you add another finger? Please?”

You’re all whiny and breathy like you’re begging him, like there’s any chance he might deny you. Eddie’s not exactly in the business of saying no to you.

He slides his ring finger in with his middle. He marvels at how snugly they fit inside you and how the sticky nectar coats his skin. Your wetness has gathered around his silver rings, including the one with the skeleton hand you were complimenting earlier.

He doesn’t ever want to wash them again... Not that he ever did in the first place, but he makes a vow not to start now.

Eddie doesn’t know it, but this is the part where you usually get embarrassed. Sometimes you think you’re too sensitive, too responsive. You’ve found that there’s a threshold between being sexy and being needy that most guys tend to enjoy. But, for you, it's a finicky thing and you find yourself crossing it before you realize it.

You moan too loud, talk too much, whine too often. Nearly everyone you’ve ever been with has said so in some way or another — mostly in gentle approaches that are observations more than anything. But some boys aren’t so nice. They say that you get too turned on, the wetness coating your pussy is evidence of that, and they tell you that’s it’s gross.

But here, now, with Eddie, there’s little room for embarrassment.

He tells you that you’re pretty, swears up and down that the way your slick trickles down his fingers is sexy. And for the first time in your life, you find yourself actually believing someone who tells you that.

You let him pry you open with slow and meticulous touches. You can feel his bent fingers deep inside you, exploring the slick velvet of your walls, and rubbing at the spot that makes you keen. It’s got your back arching and thighs trembling by his waist, toes curling inside your sneakers while you keep a tight grip on his wrist.

“Rub my clit, Eds,” you plead breathlessly with your eyes shut tight. You’re about to come, you can feel the tightening coil in the pit of your belly, you just need a little bit more. “Please, Eddie— please, touch my clit—”

He’s hasty in his attempts to comply to your request. He barely lets the words leave your mouth before he presses the pad of his thumb just above the hood of your clit. And it doesn’t feel bad per se, it actually feels pretty damn good, it’s just not where you need him most.

It’s not the first time a guy’s had trouble finding your clit and you figure it won’t be the last, so you opt guide him with a helping hand. You maneuver his thumb until it’s pressed snuggly against your swollen button.

Eddie watches attentively as it makes you whine. You arch your back, pressing yourself further against him, as a moan rises from the depths of your chest and spills out of your mouth. You pull him somehow closer by the lapel of his jacket.

He takes every unspoken criticism to heart, along with every one of your wordless praises. His acute attention to what you like the most — how his thumb on your clit makes you clench around him, how you moan every time he rubs against that foreign spongy spot inside of you, and how he keeps on doing that because he can tell that you like it — sends you to an otherworldly place pleasure.

It’s different from guys that are just good from experience. Most do the same old shit that gets their girl off because they know they’ll get off in the end, too.

Eddie’s attentiveness is unfamiliar and spellbinding, all-consuming and unavoidable. A pleasure you’re both chasing and wanting to run away from out of fear it might be too much.

“Is this okay?” he whispers to you, breath fanning across your cheek.

You nod wordlessly in reply, with your lip caught between your teeth as you fight to bite back the cry building in your throat. It’s hard to when he’s so intently hitting every spot that makes you dizzy. The moan that inevitably spills from your mouth sounds wet, like you might really start to cry.

“Fuck,” you wail when your stomach tenses. His fingers, deep in the confines of your pussy and rubbing at your clit, are relentless. Pleasure’s biting at your ankles now and you have no way to stop it from swallowing you whole. “Feels so good, Eds—”

Your mouth hangs open as you drop your head down to watch him work you open.

His ringed fingers are coated with you, a sheen of honey that drips down his fingers and onto the silver wrapped around them. You’re hopelessly spread open for him, your pussy blooming like a flower at the promise of springtime for the boy, and then tightening around him to keep him trapped inside you.

It’s dirty, like a lewd piece of art that you can’t help but gawk out.

You fight to keep your heavy eyes open. You want to watch what he’s doing to you, but it’s a harder feat than you could’ve ever imagined. Pleasure rises so violently in you. You’re frightened you might burst entirely.

“I’m gonna come,” you whimper. It’s a warning to you but for him, it’s a promise. Your head tilts back again, face scrunched in a gentle sort of horror, like you’re scared at how good you feel. “Please don’t stop. Oh my god, Eds— Please don’t stop. Please, please, please—”

Eddie presses a gentle kiss to the buzzing skin of your cheek. He whispers his slurred promises there, too. “I’m not gonna stop, sweetheart. Not gonna stop until you want me to, ‘kay? Not until you’re pushing me away. Wanna make you come so many times you can’t take it—”

You clenched around him at his words. His fingers, trapped in your velvet, struggle to move within you as you tighten. The thumb on your clit works you through your orgasm.

Your mouth hangs open in a silent moan while your hand grips his wrist something fierce. Pleasure builds and builds and builds, striking you like lightning so suddenly, and reducing you to a shuddering mess on the picnic table in front of him.

“There you go,” Eddie whispers in your ear through his own trembling breaths. “Yeah, keep going for me— keep coming.”

You comply.

You don’t have much of a choice in the matter, anyway.

Your orgasm runs over you like a dozen fucking freight trains. You’re caught in your own riptide of pleasure, drowning in it with no way of getting out. With no choice but to endure it, you whine and writhe against him while his hand stays trapped between your trembling thighs. It forces you to feel all of it until you can’t take it anymore. Just like he promised.

The pleasure passes. The vice-like grip your pussy had on his fingers lessens. The high fades. But Eddie keeps going. You don’t feel much of it at first, still pleasantly numb and buzzing, then you realize how sensitive you are.

He crooks his fingers faster, rubbing against the swollen spot inside you, while the pad of his thumb presses steadily against your clit.

You’re sloppy and wet and still gushing from the fading orgasm. A second one wouldn’t be too hard to reach, not with Eddie touching you the way he is just now, but you’re scared that it might be too much.

The I can barely see, we need to lay down a towel, hold me while I float into subspace sort of too much.

“Mm-mm,” you hum softly in protest, twitching against him while you squeeze his wrist. You feel his fingers still within you.

A lazy smile plays on your lips as you tilt your face towards an orange sun, all fucked out and beautiful. Eddie could stare at you for ages and find something new to love.

“No more. I need… Need a break.”

You shudder when his fingers drag slowly out of you, trying hard not to jostle you too much. The pads of them have started to prune slightly. His ring and middle finger stick together with a mixture of your come, he separates them to watch your honey stretch and break apart.

He doesn’t know what to do with them. If he should wipe them on his jeans, or if that would be too barbaric of him. If he should stick them in his mouth to finally get a taste of you, or if you might think that’s too much.

You beat him to the punch, just like you always do, as you grab him by the wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth. Your eyes are still half-closed as you run your tongue over his skin, sucking at them like they were his cock — god, he wishes it were his cock.

He watches you with his own heavy gaze and an agape plump pink mouth, stunned at how you could do something so sexy without thinking. He has no idea how you manage to find ways to become more beautiful just when he thinks you’ve run out.

When you pull off of him, you do it all slow, like you’re teasing him. A soft, wet pop sounds when your lips leave his fingers. You smile like a fucking minx at him when you do.

“Was that— Was that good for you?” Eddie asks you with a nervous, doe-eyed chocolate button gaze. You’re unsure how he could make you feel so good and then worry that it still wasn’t enough.

“It was perfect, Eds,” you promise, then joke: “If you don’t believe me… believe the wet spot you made me leave on this fucking table.”

It makes both of you laugh like a pair of lovesick idiots.

Your hands rise to his jaws, fingers getting lost in his wild curls as you drag him to you again.

He keeps a pair of steady hands on your hips as you lick hungrily into his mouth, kissing him like you haven’t gotten tired of kissing him yet. And when you part, you leave one, two, three more pecks against his lips.

“So… This is what you came out here for, huh?” Eddie jokes with his signature stupid grin that you want to kiss all over again. “You didn’t even want the weed, you just wanted to use me. I’m wounded, sweetheart. Truly.”

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head with your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Came out here to see you… This part was just a bonus.”

He happily accepts the kiss you give him, though he tenses against you when your hands travel from his jaw and to his chest, trickling down his torso like drops of rain until they rest on his belt.

“Something tells me you don’t mind either way,” you murmur against him when your palm settles against his hard cock trapped in his tight jeans.

He can hardly hear you, though, too trapped in his own head.

He can’t fuck you out here, not like this.

Maybe it’s too stereotypical for a virgin, but he wants his first time with you to be on a real bed and not some bench that threatens you with splinters. He wants to wine and dine you, and treat you right like he’s supposed to, not fuck you in the middle of nowhere like you’re a plaything he can do whatever he wants with.

But he doesn’t know how to tell you all this, so he parts from you with a wet click and shakes his head. “You don’t— You don’t have to—”

“I want to, Eds,” you assure him. “I promise.”

“I can’t… I mean, I guess, I’m not really…” he stammers out. He has no idea what to say to you, totally at a loss of how to turn you down. The way you clutch his covered dick, make his toes curl in his sneakers and his brain go all stupid, doesn’t exactly help either.

“What?” you tease with a light-hearted chuckle as you squeeze his rock-solid cock through the denim. “Not really hard?”

“No, it’s just…” he breathes out a laugh, or rather tries to.

He watches with wide and frightened eyes as you work at his belt buckle, struggling to unfasten it without his assistance. There’s a tug-of-war playing in his brain right now, because he wants you — he wants you so bad — but not like this.

Not when he hasn’t been completely honest with you.

It’s not fair to either of you.

Least of all when he has to turn you away without explaining why.

“I don’t think we— we really shouldn’t,” he tries to let you down easy, but to you it just sounds like he’s being coy, playing with you so you’ll beg to suck his cock. And you keep on going because you’re not totally above that. “No, really. I can’t— seriously, stop. We need to stop.”

The sudden firmness in his voice makes you still. Eddie’s never talked to you like that before. The stern, foreign words he spits at you tells you that he’s serious.

You jerk away from him like he’s burned you.

Embarrassment sets fire to your face.

“Sorry. I just— I thought that— I just wanted to return the favor,” you stammer out in an apology, frightened you’ve crossed a line with him.

No one’s ever turned down a blowjob from you before. Most times, that’s all guys want.

“No, yeah, I know,” Eddie nods understandingly when he sees how you’ve started to shrink into yourself. He steps back from you and tucks his belt back through the loop of his jeans “I just… I— I have more customers coming… And everything, so…”

“Right.”

“Yeah. And I don’t really, you know— I don’t want them to see…” he trails off with a shrug because that’s easier than saying, I don’t want them to see you sucking my dick. No one deserves to see you like that. That’s for my eyes only.

It would’ve been something short of a compliment had he said it out loud. You would’ve blushed with a shy, cheeky smile — “For your eyes only, huh?” you would’ve teased like you weren’t enlightened by the prospect of belonging to him and him only.

But because he doesn’t say that, you take on a whole other meaning to his words. I don’t want them to see me with the town whore, you can imagine him thinking. I might be the freak, but being associated with the slut would be a whole new low.

Maybe it’s irrational thinking, but it wouldn’t be the first time it’s happened to you. The fear has turned into a full-blown phobia.

You’ve made a boogeyman out of the clothes in your closet because you’re so frightened of him leaving you. And he doesn’t even fucking belong to you.

“Right,” you echo with a nod. “Okay.”

You find it suddenly hard to meet his gaze as you slip off the bench, sliding your panties back into place before pulling your skirt down again.

You’re so deep in your own head, wallowing in your woe, that when Eddie leans down to kiss you, you jerk away from on instinct. Like your body’s telling you not to play with fire, something that’s destined to burn you.

Because Eddie can’t ever belong to you. In some ways, you can’t really belong to him either, not when you’ve belonged to half of Hawkins.

But your wordless rejection sends a shock to his heart, a bolt of blue that pierces the beating organ. Your denial feels like heartbreak and you can see the anguish coat his features. He looks at you look a wounded puppy, glassy eyes going wide and thick brows frowning softly as he wonders what he did so wrong.

You kiss him anyway, if only to tell him that he didn’t do anything wrong — that it’s all you and your stupid brain that won’t let you enjoy a good thing while you’ve got it. It’s the briefest little peck, a brush of your lips against his, and it has his mouth tingling anyway.

“I’ll call you later?” he says to you, though it comes out as more of a question than he intended it to.

You shrug with pursed lips, then try your best to smile. “Whatever you want.”

Eddie watches you walk away and feels like an idiot to let you go.

He can tell that he’s upset you. You’ve had too many shitty experiences with guys not to be weary of another, and he knows that.

But he also knows he’s a total fucking coward — he’s always ran away from things, never towards something. Because that shit? — That shit was fucking scary, even for a so-called devil-worshipping freak.

But he finds himself hurrying towards you anyway.

His raggedy sneakers practically float on air as something short of muscle memory carries him towards you before you can get too far away.

And when he reaches you, he takes you by the arm, spins you and pulls you towards him. You barely get the chance to blink before he presses his mouth against yours.

He cradles you by the neck, resting large palms on either side of it, as he slots his lips against yours. And he does that thing where he just rests his kiss there, just feels you.

Eddie notices when you relax against him. You sigh against his cupid’s bow, your hands fall to his waist, and you melt totally into him. Your lips untangle slowly and tingle when he parts from you. You know you’ll be feeling him there all night… there and everywhere else.

“I’m gonna call you later,” he tells you, voice confident and unwavering.

He hopes you understand what he really means by them — whatever you want, you’d said when you saw how unsure he was. And now he’s telling you what he wants, not to make some stupid phone call, but that he wants you.

He can tell you get the hint when you smile at him. It looks like the pinky-orange sunset that bathes you in warm-colored hues.

You nod. “I’ll be waiting.”

have any more virgin!eddie thoughts? or just thoughts about my writing/requests in general? leave them here if you want! ꒰◍ᐡᐤᐡ◍꒱

#virgin!eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #virgin!eddie munson x reader #published by bug

2K notes · View notes

call-me-eds · 22 days

Text

The Boy is Mine (call-me-eds version)

I was not tagged in @carolmunson 's writing challenge, and encourage with her for other small writers to jump in and participate in anything that sparks interest or creativity! Find the guidelines here and check out her ongoing masterlist to see all of the other incredible editions :)

Masterlist

A romantic night in at the trailer.

Fluff | WC: 2.5 K

“I ran out of, like, nice cups, is this okay?” Eddie extended a plastic souvenir cup with the Cubs logo half chipped off, and it took everything in you not to slap it out of his hand.

The gravity of this night was not being taken seriously by anyone, and it was driving you up a wall. You could only give your own 100%, nothing more, but apparently you’d need to drag the effort from the Munson’s with your bare hands.

“No, it’s not okay! This is a date, you need to make a good impression,” you abandoned your station at the counter to start rifling through cabinets. There were three open bottles of whiskey in the trailer but not a single cocktail glass. Eddie’s soft voice barely pulled your wandering thoughts from wondering how long it would take you to run home to get two of your own glasses.

“Baby, do I need to remind you that neither of us are going on this date?” he asked, avoiding the urge to come behind you and put his hand on your shoulders to manually relax them. He didn’t want to lose a limb and you were dangerously close to the knife block. He looked on, feeling helpless in his own home while you ran around like the queen was coming over.

Whatever, it could have been possible that you were going a little overboard, but all you wanted was for Wayne to have a good night. He was so kind and hardworking, and putting up with Eddie was an exhausting job. The man was a saint.

So you messed with one of the lightbulbs to dim the light, fluffled the one throw pillow that the men had, and convinced Wayne to take his time getting ready while you and Eddie made a round of drinks that didn’t come with a tab or need a bottle opener.

“We don’t have time for reminders, just line the rims,” you said, carefully putting down the only two matching drinking glasses. They weren’t the martini glasses in your vision, but they would have to do.

“Vanilla frosting?” he confirmed. “What, is this Christmas-themed?” he joked, but took care in looking at the photo on the recipe you ripped out from an old home magazine you found. He gently inserted the glass and spun it around. No matter how much he teased you, you knew that he wanted the night to go well for his uncle just as badly as you did.

“So what if it is? Who doesn’t love Christmas?” you asked, going back to arranging the food you put on a tray you found that might have been older than Eddie. He finished his task, taking the care he knew you would have, quickly swiping his finger through the sugary substance when you were turned away.

“Everyone does, it’ll be a hit,” he said, maybe just to make you feel better, and licked his finger clean before you could catch him. “But if you don’t relax, you’re going to hit the floor,” he side-swiped you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, going to the sink.

With the self-imposed expectations you put on yourself to ensure your boyfriend’s father figure had a great night was the guilt that came from forcing your man to anticipate your wants for the night. There weren’t any canceled plans, and just a few snippy comments, but you were sure there were other ways Eddie would want to be spending his Saturday night off from work. Between ironing the one tailored shirt in Wayne’s closet and taking your own laundry down from the clothesline, you told Eddie to call Steve and make plans to meet him and Robin at The Hideout for a few drinks.

Non-peppermint drinks. Which smelled like Macy’s in December and were definitely from the holiday edition of the magazine. You didn’t have time to overthink your out-of-season choice, though, because Wayne was coming out of the bathroom smelling suspiciously like Eddie when you went out on special occasions. A mental note fleetingly popped into your head to buy your boyfriend his own, different scented, bottle of cologne.

“I could have sworn I told you two to scram,” Wayne said, a hint of sincerity in his mocking tone. His eyes scanned over your spread with equal parts appreciation and confusion. Fine, maybe wintery cocktails, carrots, and crackers didn’t exactly go together, but you were working on a tight timeline and whatever you could scrounge up from the Quick-Mart.

“We’re going soon, I swear,” you promised, mixing the combination of ingredients that you thought might be on the sweet side for Wayne’s preference, but were sure that his date would prefer to a Heineken. There wasn’t a cocktail shaker at your disposal, a measuring cup and a fork would have to get the job done.

Eddie could read the two of you like a book. The nervous energy you were emitting had him wanting to stay out of the way, so he washed and dried the few dishes you dirtied in record time. The domestic act may not have been as exciting as ripping a guitar solo, but it was just as sexy to you, especially when you didn’t even need to ask. Not that you were paying a speck of attention to him at the moment.

“Now Sally’s just coming over for a little while before we go to our rummy game,” Wayne said, sounding like he was warning you both to behave before leaving you with a babysitter. “So you don’t have to be out all night, but I don’t want you making her feel crowded,” he pointedly looked at Eddie this time, who couldn’t even pretend not to understand.

The last time the two of you had been around when Wayne’s “friend” Sally came over, Eddie wouldn’t stop asking her questions about her job, her family, her weekend routine, and you feared he was getting dangerously close to inquiring about her medical history and savings account.

“We’ll be out of your hair, don’t worry,” you confirmed, doing one last sweep to make sure there wasn’t a trace of Eddie in the living room. As endearing as he might be, your boyfriend had a tendency to leave anything that belonged to him in the shared space of the trailer.

“Now listen, here, partner,” the dark-haired Tasmanian devil strode up to his uncle in imitation and smacked a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not going far, so if there’s any funny business going on under this roof I will know about it.” The two of you heard a version of the same speech any time Wayne was going to the bar or leaving for a shift and you two would be by yourselves. It had the opposite effect, making you act all the more quicker so you’d be put back together when he came back home.

“Son, I was getting into funny business before you were born,” he responded, knocking Eddie’s bravado right off its kilter.

“Oh, ew, I don’t want to think about that!” he whined, blush appearing faster than his hands could cover his face.

“Well, if you don’t quit it, we’re going to have a problem, then.”

“Leave him alone, let’s go,” you said, grabbing the bag of snacks reserved for you two from your grocery trip. “Have fun, Mr. Munson,” you smiled. Even though you were setting him up for a night of romance and intimacy, you still couldn’t bring yourself to call him by his first name.

“Thank you, Darlin’, I’ll see you later,” he said, reaching out to ruffle Eddie’s hair before he was out of reach.

“Hey!” You opened the door to separate the two before a wrestling match broke out and a button popped or a hair came out of place.

“And if you don’t start opening doors, boy, you won’t even be in amusing business, nevermind funny!” he called after the two of you, making you laugh. He kept walking, grabbing your hand and waving it around so his uncle could see the small act of romance.

The two of you strolled in between the trailers as the sun was dipping below the horizon. You let the stillness of the evening come over you, decompressing from your few high-string hours. The adrenaline seeping out of you made you more tired than you should have been before sunset, and you accepted that your actions were a bit overkill. But you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Your uncle looked really nice,” you commented, smiling at the thought of him deciding what to wear and pulling out his fanciest belt buckle. “Like a real gentleman.”

“And you like that?” Eddie asked. “You’re not exactly dating the swankiest guy in town,” he flicked the hand that wasn’t holding yours up and down, gesturing to his sweatpants and t-shirt. You wouldn’t dignify his self-deprecation with a response, so you just squeezed his hand.

“He was nervous, it was cute,” you deflected. Eddie sat down in one of the chained-down adirondack chairs that the trailer park had surrounding a few singed logs that were last tended to before you had even met the Munsons. He reached down to grab the security measure and tug another chair as close as it could possibly get to his.

“I don’t understand why we couldn’t have just stayed in my room or something,” he said as you sat down. “I could have behaved myself.” Even as the words came out of his mouth, his mumbling was evidence even he didn’t believe it. “Whatever, I’ll just read about it in his little notebook later that he pretends isn’t a diary.”

“Eddie!” you laughed. “Let him have some privacy, he’s a grown man.” As you and Eddie got older, he tended to treat his uncle more like a roommate than an elder. When you first started dating he would have taken his arm from being around your shoulders when Wayne walked into the room, where now he tried to convince you that walking around in his boxers wasn’t weird, it was like wearing your own shorts.

“You love him more than me,” he deduced, flopping in the chair like a depressed fish.

“Aw, don’t be like that. that’s not even true,” you swung your leg over the arms of your chairs, and his hand drew like a magnet to your calf, starting to rub it with the amount of pressure he learned you preferred.

“Yes it is, that’s why you always want to come over to my place. You’re using me to get to him and his union insurance,” he teased, sending you into a further fit of giggles.

“Would someone that bought you your nasty snacks be using you?” you asked, handing him the plastic bag with the beef jerky he loved so much.

“You do always say this will give me a heart attack,” he smiled, ripping open one of the packages with his teeth. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, Eddie’s massaging hand lulling you into a level of relaxation that let you both know you wouldn’t be joining Steve and Robin at the bar like you originally planned. With all of his talk of malintentions on your front, you were pretty sure that he was trying to lull you into the state you were in now so he wouldn’t want to go out.

Eddie talked a big game, but when faced with the decision to hit the town or stay curled up in bed with you, he was hiding your shoes, boiling water for tea, and putting a blanket on the radiator for maximum comfort.

“Hey, you know I appreciate it, right?” he asked through his chewing.

“What, the snacks? They were like, two bucks,” you told him. He pinched your skin lightly, chastising you for making him talk about how he truly felt,

“No, you doing all of that for Uncle Wayne.” You kept your eyes on the stars that were starting to dot the sky. It was always so much easier to spot them from the trailer park, even more so with Eddie by your side.

“I was happy to,” you reassured. It wasn’t a secret how much you loved spending time not only with your boyfriend, but with his uncle. He always made space for you in his home and trusted you with the most important thing in his life.

“I know, but it still means a lot, Sweetheart. I love you,” he lifted your leg slightly so he could lean down and press his lips to your ankle where your leggings separated from your sock.

“I love you,” you answered automatically.

“Next week I’ll make sure he goes out so I can give you a romantic evening,” he promised.

“This is a romantic evening,” you hummed.

“Baby, I know I’m white trash, but don’t let me drag you down into thinking this is romance,” he laughed. You sighed and finally took the bait from all of his negative quips.

“Okay, what’s your idea of romance, then?”

“Not helping my uncle get laid,” he scoffed. You pulled your leg from his grasp to lightly kick at his chest. “Alright, alright. If I had unlimited cash I would start by hiring a chef to cook for us so we wouldn’t even need to leave the house,” he started, cajoling your leg back into his grasp to continue his massage.

“Does that mean I wouldn’t have to dress up?” you asked.

“Ideally, you wouldn’t be wearing anything,” he said, fully meaning it. “I’d have a new piece of jewelry come out with every course, so I guess you could wear that. And after we ate, maybe I’d hire someone to play us a concert, like Prince or someone. Then we’d go fly to France for dessert on my private jet and come home to the penthouse and watch the sunrise,” he finished.

“That’s not romantic at all,” you said. “That’s just expensive.” You pulled away this time not to punish him, but to get closer. His hand was warm from the work it was putting in on your muscles as opposed to the normal chill.

“Okay, so then what was the right answer?” he asked.

“This, just being together,” you said, knocking the air from his chest and the canned response from his lips.

It was a simple answer that held much more beneath the surface. What you weren’t saying was that every time you were with him felt like you were winning the lottery. The idea of a five-star meal and some diamonds were nice, but you’d take Eddie heating up a can of soup on the stove, a bracelet made of string and beads, and him playing the same guitar riff over and over for hours over anything he could cook up in his mind.

Despite the nice picture he painted, running through his mind was a more similar scene to yours, except there was a ring on your finger.

“I guess that sounds good, too.”

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #writing prompt #st4 #stranger things fic #my writing #eddie munson fluff #wayne munson

96 notes · View notes

shenachigans · 8 months

Text

LETTER | Signora/Rosalyne

PAIRING: Signora/Rosalyne x Gn!Fatuus!Reader

CW: angst no comfort, character d3aths (two people are implied to pass away), toxic relationship, reader and Signora are only flings, mentions of su!cide, mentions of smut but not explicitly, Scaramouch makes an appearance.

SUMMARY: You were nothing but a fleeting moment in the Fair Lady’s life, but a single letter caused a permanent scar in her heart, far worse than what Rostam left her.

A/N: Ask me why I rewrote a fanfic from 2021 in 2023. It’s because I needed to get out of this damn thing called writer’s block <3 This original fanfic was inspired by a convo I had with Kuro about Signora’s death… :( It’s gender neutral but it was written with a female reader in mind. Her Majesty refers to the Tsaritsa and Rostam is Signora’s late lover btw.

WORDS: 2,413

(FANFIC IS UNDER THE CUT!)

Signora… Rosalyne, rather, is a woman who harbors negative emotions. Rostam’s death brought her so much grief, turning her into the misunderstood Crimson Witch. Love rendered Rosalyne miserable, and the burning fire in her heart was too powerful to extinguish.

It was because of the Tsaritsa that made her who she is today, a cold Harbinger named Signora, the Fair Lady. She devoted herself to the Cyro Archon for vengeance so that she may let her lover rest once and for all. Everything she does is to honor him, and she will continue to do so until she meets him again.

The power of liquid fire gave Signora a longer lifespan. It was useful for revenge, but it was dreadful when she longed for her lover. They have been apart for so many centuries. But amid her life, someone caught her attention.

You were but a simple Fatuus messenger who served the Sixth Harbinger Balladeer. It was rare for Harbingers to cross paths with one another, much less their servants, but Signora saw you — far more than she could remember.

She observed you from afar out of pure interest. Perhaps she was bored. Perhaps she found you suspicious, for you were too naive and pure to work for an organization like this. But you were skilled in your field. Your talent juxtaposed your looks, she admits. And so she asked the Tsaritsa to place you in her division, deeming you would be more fit under her wing.

The Fair Lady wanted to keep you.

The reason: unknown.

The ambiguity of why Signora took you in soon disappeared. She found herself seeing a part of Rostam in your nature. It was more apparent when she learned of your feelings toward her. Just like Rostam, she would say, of course, not in your presence. She became infatuated with you over time. It wasn’t the same infatuation as your previous lovers, but you welcomed her with open arms.

How could you deny the woman, who was clearly out of your league?

When Inazuma closed its borders, your relationship as lovers became official, albeit a secret from the others, though everyone can sense a rather unusual intimate atmosphere between you two.

You two weren’t like others, not because you were in a relationship with your superior, but because she was indifferent and sought your affection, not you. It may be because of her past — that you didn’t know of — but you pushed the heavy feelings aside as you were grateful to have the privilege to call Signora yours.

You did everything you could to make her feel loved, and Signora felt like her old self, the young maiden from Mondstadt, Rosalyne: the young woman who was in love with a knight named Rostam. But your time together was fleeting.

The demise of your relationship started when she was assigned to collect the Gnoses per the Tsaritsa’s command. You two became equally busy. Signora became more distant and tense, too focused on the mission as if she had been waiting for this moment. She has, but you didn’t know why.

Other Fatuus turned their backs on you upon learning your relationship with the Harbinger. It was understandable, but you didn’t receive special treatment. You worked harder than everyone else, and Signora was harsher toward you, pinning every mistake your peers committed.

Thoughts filled your head, wondering if your relationship with Signora was normal for lovers. All she does is take, take, and take, but not once has she given you the same affection. You tried to understand her, but you were hurting yourself. Even so, you still loved her, because love comes with pain, does it not? Surely, this is only a bumpy road in your relationship.

You were wrong. You knew your relationship was over when Signora requested Her Majesty to place you back in Balladeer’s unit. She didn’t say anything, but her actions told you of her intentions. It hurt how cold she was to you that day as if you weren’t the person she shared her bed with, entangled in each other’s bodies. She acted like your time together meant nothing to her.

As you readjusted to being under Balladeer’s command, not once have you seen Signora. You knew she didn’t want to see you anymore, but your heart did not waver, rather, your heart ached from not seeing her. You were holding onto false hope — hoping she was only distant to remain professional, but you knew she was too busy, or did not bother, to officialize your parting.

Everything you did was for her, just as everything Signora did was for Rostam. You realized you knew nothing of her past, save for having a lover. You did not know him, what their story was, and how they parted. But you saw longing and love in Signora’s eyes.

There were times when Signora looked at you with an unrecognizable gaze. Only now did you learn what it was. The ache in your heart was unbearable, knowing you were just someone to fill the hole in her heart, the hole Rostam left. She didn’t love you like you loved her. It hurt so much. But you were meant to be utilized, for you were a tool. A tool has various purposes. Signora merely took advantage of your love to fulfill her needs.

It was hard to accept, but you tried to, for this was reality. After all, the Fair Lady gave you, a mere Fatuus, an opportunity to become part of her private life. A Harbinger cannot be romantically involved with an underling. Although you can no longer call her yours, it was a privilege you had, and you will forever cherish your time together, because everything you do is for her, regardless of what she saw you as. You were only flings, but your feelings for her will remain eternal.

You just hope she will remember you, even when you no longer live…

“What uselessness. Your lover, rather, ex-lover, tried to attack the blonde due to some personal grudge. My plans would’ve gone smoothly if not for their interruption,” Scaramouche grumbled, crossing his arms with a petty scoff. “It wasn’t even a big injury; they bled to death. Her Majesty would’ve had them disposed of were they to survive anyway.”

Signora was too engrossed in your state to process his words as horrified eyes gazed at your lifeless body before her. Cuts and bruises decorated your skin, and the shine in your eyes was now dull. She had realized you were dead. But somehow, you looked more at peace, as though she could see you smiling at her with glimmering eyes. She felt her heart sink from the thought.

“I could’ve left them where they were, so you owe me, Signora. Alas, you better not linger for too long, you have yet to meet the Shogun,” are the words the puppet told her before swinging the sliding the shoji doors and disappearing to who-knows-where.

It was a déjà vu, a familiar feeling, yet it was different. Signora’s feelings didn’t make sense. You were nothing but a fleeting moment in her life, but the impact you had on her was great. You passed away fighting someone, like Rostam when he fought in the war and lost his life. Only this time, there was a corpse presented before her.

Signora didn’t know how long she towered over your body and bore into your soulless eyes, but it must’ve been a while for salty tears pooled on the bloody tatami mat. And so she fell on her knees as her sobs grew louder. Trembling fingers carefully mounted your head on her chest, cradling you like a newborn child. The growing pool of blood tainted everything around you, including Signora’s precious dress.

Your body was losing warmth each second, and she was desperately holding onto everything that was left. Signora received everything you had. She wishes you keep your warmth. You can’t throw it away like some fool, but she knew it was too late. Your fingertips were as cold as her delusion’s powers.

The last time she cried, tears of amber rolled down her cheeks, turning her into the Crimson Witch as liquid fire consumed her. But here she was, weeping salty tears like a human being. Does a part of her humanity still linger within her? Was this your doing? It was a bittersweet feeling, she admits. But she remembers you’re no longer with her. Your bright soul is gone because of her.

“You fool! I… I couldn’t even say goodbye…”

The woman you gave your heart to let her walls down as she grieved, her heart tightening from the pain.

But didn’t she use you? Why would she grieve for a pawn she used? She couldn’t possibly have the right to mourn for you when your death is the consequence of her actions, her indifference.

Signora hugs you close as she rocks on her knees like a mother hushing her crying child. But she was crying, and you were hushed, still and cold, stinging her skin. Only your blood remained warm, but it was soon drying up, becoming as cold as you, further bringing pain to her heart.

Is this Celestia’s punishment for going against the heavenly principles? Must her life be full of woe?

Signora’s sobs resonated around the room, grief apparent in her cries, hugging you tighter and tighter, refusing to let you go until her fingers brushed against a tattered letter from your coat’s pocket. Tears soaked her attire to clear her vision and grab the letter.

Her stomach churned as she saw to whom it was for. It was for her.

Dear Signora,

I never got to know your real name, My Lady. I didn’t want to pry by asking, but your name must be beautiful. It’s a shame, really. I would’ve loved for your name to fall from my lips. It would’ve been intimate of us, don’t you think? Alas, we weren’t meant to be. I understand you have your reasons for being distant and for using me. It was painful — for the woman I love does not reciprocate my feelings — but I hold no grudge, nor regret giving my life to you. I’m honored to have been able to give you my love. I will forever cherish the fleeting moments we shared.

I’m writing you this letter to officialize the goodbye we never had. The moment I was brought back to my unit, I knew we were over, but I hoped you would come back for me. It was a foolish thought, I know, but it’s funny now that I think about it. I really am in love. And I keep hoping for something impossible because my feelings are strong for you, My Lady. Please don’t feel burdened. I say this because, as much as you try to hide it, and it may be presumptuous of me, but you care. You may not love me, but I can feel your caringness toward me. I’m grateful. I truly am.

Now, if ever you read this letter, it means I’m no longer alive. I made sure of it. It would be a miracle if you even found this letter. Please don’t misunderstand the situation. I wavered a duel with the traveler for a reason. Even if I came back unscathed, which would be another miracle, my life would be terminated by Her Majesty for my disobedience. I don’t dare to take my own life. Frankly, I wish to say I’m tired, My Lady. I simply do not find joy in being alive anymore and wish to rest. I’ve been planning for this moment for a long time, even before I met you, so please don’t blame yourself for my death. I admire how you still have that will within you. The reason must be to avenge someone you loved, no? I apologize for doing some background work on your history, albeit not finding much, but I wanted to know more about you.

I hope you succeed, My Lady. I wish for you to lay off your burdens and find peace. I want to thank you for making my life bloom with color before I left. Therefore, I have no regrets in life. Although without your permission, allow me to say I love you. I may have never said these words in front of you, and have been contemplating whether or not to say them, but I was too late to decide. Thus, I end my letter with my declaration of love and parting.

I love you so much, My Fair Lady.

— Your former Fatuus underling.

The letter fell from her grasp as she drowned in grief, the ink drowning in her tears, rendering the paragraphs illegible. Was she so distant that you dared not sign your letter intimately? You even addressed her formally, as if it was a report. Why did you stay with someone like her? She knew why, but she refused to acknowledge it. You loved her so much that you put yourself and your pain aside to please her and let yourself get used.

Signora cups your face, gently pressing her warm lips against your forehead, your eyes, your nose, your cheeks, until your cold lips meet with hers. How your lips cuddled against hers, oh so perfectly. Only now did she realize how warm your kisses were, how you would smile and blush, even if it was a quick peck. Those kisses were your kisses, they weren’t Rostam’s.

She was responsible for your death, Signora assures. You may have been planning it for a long time, but her ignorance caused the last blow. Had she not exploited you, you might've still been breathing, and happy with someone who deserves you, someone who would devote their life to you, someone who would love you as you loved her. You were the flower she poisoned and left to wither due to her actions…

Signora truly did not deserve someone like you.

“My name is Rosalyne. Please say it, my name. Please speak, please…”

A blood-chilling cry of grief filled the room when you remained silent, unable to utter the name you yearned to say. You were gone, truly gone. She killed you.

Rosalyne didn’t choose you because you were an image of Rostam. She chose you because you made her feel human. But she was blinded, not realizing the truth behind her emotions.

“Rosalyne!”

It wasn’t you; it was Rostam.

A/N: For those confused with the ending, Signora follows canon events, which means she's...

#la signora #signora angst #fatui signora #genshin signora #signora x reader #genshin impact signora #la signora angst #genshin angst #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact drabbles #fem reader #genshin impact smut #gender neutral reader

368 notes · View notes

piosplayhouse · 6 months

Text

Just came across someone in the mdzscql/tgcf fandoms with an "anti fic recs" list where they just linked a bunch of completely unproblematic ao3 fics from established writers in the fandom without permission and extensive and unnecessary criticism (most of it just disagreeing with characterization) just to make fun of them, had "regretful recs" where they wrote maybe a paragraph about how they liked the fic and then listed the author's "problems" which were just whether or not they had written noncon/somno/etc kink work in ANY other completely unrelated fics or even just used words like "queer", and didn't even read some of their "anti recs" on the list but just wanted to make fun of them on the descriptions and I'm absolutely fucking livid.

Even if you don't like certain types of content that shouldn't lead you to compiling authors you don't like on a "shame list" in public stocks to humiliate them all for the grand sin of making a character a bit ooc. Genuinely ghoulishly evil behavior. It's so difficult for me to even fathom what the point of making any recs at all are since doing something like that 100% just discourages ALL writers, even the ones who make "good content", by telling them that the art they made of their own free will and time just out of a love for a piece of media is going to be mercilessly scrutinized and if deemed unacceptable your name will be blasted through the halls like some sort of mean girls burn book. Just some abhorrently poor etiquette that stifles the creativity of an entire community.

I really wish the poster had linked their ao3 somewhere so I could warn ficwriters to block them immediately so they can't access anyone else's writing since they apparently hate it so much, but unfortunately they don't have it up. I don't want anyone to harass them because bad behavior shouldn't be fought with bad behavior, but if you want to know the account to block so you don't interact in the future and promise you won't contact them you can dm me.

#also theyre a whole 27 yrs old so. lol #cant even say theyre a teen who probably just hasnt learned yet 😬#long post #long posts #fandom wank

220 notes · View notes

strang3lov3 · 27 days

Text

Edit 4/5/24 - Aya’s taken my fic down, and I promised to take down my posts about her plagiarism if she’d apologize to me for hurting me. She didn’t, so these posts are staying up. I blocked her and let her know she’s more than welcome to send an ask from a side blog apologizing. This behavior is unacceptable.

Update about my plagiarized fic/ayadrafts (original post here)

Tw-fatphobia, violent threats

First, I wanna say thank you to everyone who is showing up and sticking up for me. Eddie stans, Joel stans, writers and readers both. I love and appreciate you so much. I know a good amount of you have reported ayadrafts and that’s awesome. If anyone in the comments is able to let others know how to do the same, that would be greatly appreciated.

To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how to update this so I think we’ll just go through the timeline.

Explanation below.

Last time I talked about this yesterday where I wasn’t responding to an ask, I showed screenshots of ayadrafts’ messages with others, how she laughed at both them and me. I posted and reblogged with screenshots of countless deleted comments. That was in late afternoon. During that time, people repeatedly commented on Ayadrafts’ post calling out her blatant theft of my work and even alerted blogs that had reblogged/liked her post that it was stolen from me. Ayadrafts has admitted to stealing my fic, but simply does not care or feel bad.

What I did not see and what I do not have screenshots of is Ayadrafts telling individuals to k*ll themselves. It seems that she gets a comment, replies to it, and then deletes both within seconds. Multiple people, both friends and strangers have let me know that this was taking place.

As if she could not get any lower. Laughing in my face, mocking my work, and then telling people to k*ll themselves? Absolutely abhorrent and frankly, fucking cruel.

But apparently others who were defending me were cruel right back to her. From what I’ve heard, I believe people who were commenting remained fairly civil, even if ayadrafts herself did not like the comments. I’ve received asks about this and I’m disappointed to hear that people were in her asks calling her a fat cunt and other abhorrent things. That’s a low blow and does not reflect me or my values.

Believe me, I understand the anger. I’ve never met someone so antisocial and uncaring. I am angry too. Fucking livid. But that doesn’t give me or anyone else the right to say something just as heinously cruel back to her. I don’t condone anyone being sexist, fatphobic, homophobic, racist, or hateful on my behalf. None of these things will ever be tolerated by me, even if they’re being used to “defend” me. Not okay with that in the slightest.

Take the high road, don’t give this person any more ammo to be any more cruel and atrocious than she’s already being.

After this, ayadrafts disabled replies on her post of my stolen fic for the night and everything quieted down for the most part. Today, I see that she’s got those replies back on and is likely looking for another fight, blocking and unblocking people. Because, like I said yesterday, it is evident that she has a clear need for negative attention, and all of this is a game to her.

If you wanna participate in that game, you’ve got my consent. Spam the shit out of her, annoy her through posts like this and this. I don’t care, because frankly I am past the point of sympathy with her, and I think I’ve been way too forgiving up to this point. Maybe she’ll cave and delete my fic like I’ve repeatedly asked her to do. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But it’s entirely possible she won’t, and that she’ll double down even harder, and that by continuing to fuel the fire she’ll only debase herself further and in doing so make us all feel worse. Were you all drained watching this go down yesterday? Because I sure as shit was.

So at some point I might ask you all that we just drop it, for both the sake of my mental health and your own. I think we’re all unbelievably hurt and upset, but we need to be able to walk away at some point. The reality is, we can keep this going forever but hateful, spiteful people like this don’t often thrive long without something to feed on.

I’ve reported her post multiple times, tweeted at tumblr, and I’ve heard nothing but crickets. It is what it is.

#strang3lov3 #ayadrafts #Joel miller x reader #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x reader smut #discourse #tw discourse

93 notes · View notes

jupiter-soups · 8 months

Text

a sheep in wolf's clothing

pairing + tag: joel miller x f!reader, established relationship, fluff

summary: joel miller is not quite as scary as the people of jackson believe him to be. at least, not around you.

word count: 1.9k

a/n: kinda been dealing with some writers block and i thought i'd write a cute fluffy one shot to deal with it. please let me know what you think! also, thank you to the incredible @papipascalispunk for beta-ing!

The swing of Joel’s sledgehammer squarely met the metal pole, pushing it down further into the hard earth with a raw strength that made the pair of teens watching grimace.

“God, he’s scary today. Why’s he hulking out so much? Who pissed him off?” The taller of the teens, Nathan, whispers to his friend, whilst leaning against his shovel for support.

“I don’t know, but whoever it is better get their shit together, because he’s gonna end up snapping. We do not want to be here for that,” Callum responds with a conspiratorial tone, gesturing for Nathan to come closer so he could divulge some gossip.

“Apparently, before he got to Jackson, he was this total killing machine, just ruthless, relentless and bloodthirsty,” Callum stagewhispers, peeking out of the corner of his eye to where Joel was clearly funneling pure rage in each swing of his hammer.

“Why would they even let some mad man in here with us?” Nathan responds nervously, with much less subtlety in how he was eyeing Joel’s movements and his apparent familiarity with swinging a blunt object.

“I guess he adopted Ellie, or something. Maybe that mellowed him out a bit?” Callum winces at a particularly hard swing of the hammer, one that made Joel grunt out in effort, wiping the back of his hand against his forehead as he stepped back, seemingly satisfied with his work.

“Clearly not enough. Ellie’s dad, huh?” Nathan lets out a huff of an exhale, reminiscing on a particularly painful evening where his romantic advances on Ellie were met with a swift and brutally painful punch in the gut. “Guess the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

Their gossiping fades away into a terrified silence, as Joel stalks up to where they’re standing, walking slowly and with eyes slightly narrowed. The two practically shrink under his gaze as he approaches.

“You two just gonna stand around all day or get to fuckin’ work like the rest of us,” Joel grits out, the furrow of his brow informing the two that they were nowhere near quiet enough when gossiping.

“Uh, I–”

“We were j–”

“Stop fuckin’ around and dig.” Before Joel even finished his sentence, the pair scrambles back over to the patch of soil they were assigned to clear, working with a vigor that they didn’t even know they were capable of.

—-----------

Joel had sort of assumed that the rumors about him had died down. No one crossed the street when they saw him anymore. No one even begged to get swapped to a different patrol route when grouped with him, terrified of what he might do outside of the safety of laws and watchful eyes in Jackson.

He shifts his head from side to side as he walks home on the barely illuminated streets, stretching out the strain from working all day. He holds a paper bag close to his body, trying to keep it dry from the light rainfall that had begun at some point between him leaving the building site and stopping at the bakery.

A smile breaks through his cold exterior as he finally approaches his house and sees the living room light still on, a beacon welcoming him home.

To you.

In his eagerness to see you, he forgot to take off his dirty work boots, a fact you quickly remind him of with a croaky call of “Shoes!”, the second he turned the corner into the living room.

“Sorry, baby,” He laughs quietly, tossing the paper bag he was carrying onto your lap where you were sprawled out on the couch, before heading back into the hall to kick off his boots.

You gasp in excitement as you open the paper bag and see three of your favorite caramel cookies from the bakery, immediately regretting it as your throat stung from the act.

The cold that currently had you couchridden under the warm embrace of a thick woolen blanket had also meant that you weren’t able to pick up the rare treats. The bakery only made them once a month, and typically ran out by noon. Your heart swelled as you realized Joel must have gone out of his way on an already busy day, just to get them for you.

“How did you manage to get three of them?” You ask in awe as he reenters the room and moves to join you where you were sitting, lifting your extended legs to rest his back against the back of the couch and placing them over his lap. His hands settled on your legs, rubbing them gently through your thick winter pajama pants.

“Guess there’s some good in being scary, ol’ Joel Miller,” He chuckles, taking a cookie from your extended hand and taking a bite.

You begin to sit up slightly to take a bite too, but visibly wince when your head begins to spin from the movement. Joel stops you instantly, dropping his cookie back into the bag on your lap to rearrange your pillows behind you into a slightly more seated position.

“You’re still not doing well,” He tuts, disapproval radiating off of him in a way that made you want to roll your eyes. “Shouldn’ta made me go to work today, darlin’, I should’a been here for you.”

“Joel,” you reassure, “I’m completely fine, barely got the sniffles at this point.” He raises an eyebrow at your blatant lie, taking in the sweaty sheen on your forehead and nasally voice before sighing and settling back into his seat. You weren’t in a state to argue.

“So, big, bad Joel Miller scares the town folk into giving him extra cookies?” You tease, drawing a laugh out of the guilty man sitting next to you. His grip on your shins loosens slightly as he begins to actually relax again, much to your satisfaction. He was already stressed enough in the morning when he had to leave you to go fill in for someone at the construction site, almost canceling after you spent most of the night awake, shivering and sniffling. You didn’t want him to feel even more guilty, regardless of the fact that you had been the one who insisted that he goes.

“You should’a heard some of the stuff they were sayin’ about me today,” He shook his head in feigned disbelief, well aware of his reputation. “Somethin’ about being ruthless and relentless,”

You laugh through a bite of the cookie, “I could see that.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Oh, really?”

“At least the relentless part. There’s been more than a few times I’ve had to tap out,” you wiggle your eyebrows suggestively at him, causing him to shake his head at you, trying to fight back the way his lips were turning up at the corners in amusement.

He watches you finish off the second cookie in a comfortable silence, a faint smile on his face as he observes the absolute glee in your eyes with each bite. His fingers begin to play with the hem of your pajama pants the more he watches you, and you can sense the slight anxiety in his movements.

“Stop worrying, Joel, I was fine. I promise. You know the building team needed you today.”

He grumbles a quiet response that you don’t quite make out, something about ‘incompetent,’ and ‘ill-equipped,’ before turning his annoyance to you, “I already know you didn’t drink enough water.”

You nudge him gently in the stomach with your knee, prompting him to drop it, which he does with a moody sigh.

“How was Ellie today?” He opts to change the subject.

“Not been around too much. She’s still running around after Dina, thinking she's so slick. I know we need to wait for her to come to us about it, but I wish she would just tell us already.” His soft brown eyes betray the unease he felt at the issue.

“I hope…” He trails off in a worried tone that’s familiar to you; the, I think I’m fucking up tone. “I hope she doesn’t think she can’t talk to me about it.” You reach your hand out and grab his, big and warm and immediately squeezing and rubbing your hand within his to warm up your freezing fingers. ”I suppose I can be a little scary sometimes. Those kids down at the site sure thought so,” He chuckles once, humorlessly and self-deprecatingly, reaching over to grab your other hand to warm up that one too.

“There’s no fucking way, Joel. Maybe those kids who’ve never been outside of the walls for a day in their lives were scared of you, but we know you’re a big ol’ softie. Besides, there’s not much that scares Ellie. Definitely not an old man that she could easily beat in a fight,” You tease, relieved when his shoulders seem to relax a little.

Joel leans forward, cupping your chin in his hand to pull you in for a kiss. You don’t let him indulge, perhaps for the first time in your relationship. “Joel, I’ll just get you sick too. You gotta be back at work tomorrow, remember?” Your heart squeezes at the almost pout on his face, but he doesn’t push the matter, instead starting to get up with a grunt, gently placing your legs back down on the couch where he had been sat. He turns to you with an expectant look and reaches out a hand.

“Let’s head up to bed, darlin’,”

You blink. “Joel, I just said I can’t get you sick. I’ll just sleep down here for the night, the couch is comfy enough.”

His hand stays extended for a moment, before letting it drop. “Fine,” he states resolutely, “I suppose I’ll see you in the mornin’, then?” His voice seems almost too innocent, and your suspicions are confirmed when he drags the warm blanket from your body in one swift motion and starts walking towards the stairs.

“Joel!” You exclaim, “What the fuck?”

He pauses part way up the stairs to your bedroom and gives you a nonchalant shrug. “This is my blanket. Can’t go to sleep without it.” He turns back and continues to head up the stairs. You grumble at the real satisfied little smirk on his face as he does so.

“But…” You groan and roll off the warm couch, and begin to plod up the stairs to your shared bed.

Fine, if he wants to get sick so badly, I’ll let him.

—-------------

“Shouldn’ Miller be here by now?” Nathan says as he eyes the entrance to the build site nervously, doing his best to appear busy.

“I guess he’s sick today, heard he got a fever or something.” Callum’s words instantly ease Nathan’s rigid posture.

“Thank God for that,” He mutters, letting the shovel in his hands drop to the ground with a relieved sigh.

“Or maybe,” Callum smiled sinisterly, “He’s out plotting his next kil–” He’s cut off when a hand is smacked down onto the nape of his neck, turning into a painful grip that swivels his head in the direction of his assailant and the project’s latest stand-in worker, Ellie Williams.

“Why don’t you fucks get back to work, hmm?” Her grip tightens on the back of Callum’s neck, and he visibly flinches under her exacting gaze. Nathan gulps and reaches to pick up his shovel as quickly as possible. Joel Miller was definitely not the scariest person in Jackson

tags: @gasolinerainbowpuddles @beardedjoel @huffle-punk

thank you for reading <3 please let me know your thoughts :)

#joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel x reader #tlou fic #the last of us fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x female reader #fluff

226 notes · View notes

lizzaneia-elizalde · 7 months

Note

First off, love your writing, IT MAKES ME FEEL THINGS😭😭 but…

Can we please get more of yandre emo boy Ashton I JUST READ IT AND IM DROOLING SCREAMING CRYING GIGGLING AMD KICKING MY FEET😭🧎‍♀️🤪🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

THANK YOU❤️❤️🤭🤭🤭

(If not that’s okay, ignore this bae🫶)

Yandere! Stereotypical! Emo and his beloved popular bitch

Ayo, thank you for the compliment! I'm glad my writings made you feel things (I don't know what though LMAO)

Actually, I'm not planning to follow up Ashton, but hey, at least it would break my writer's block (lol it's just laziness) so here ya go!

Sorry that it took days though 😔

FOR THIS ONE, I RECOMMEND READING THE FIC FIRST BEFORE THE DRABBLE (this one).

Read the yandere emo fic here!

💌Little Ashton was misunderstood a lot as a child. He never really liked the same things the other children liked, and he had this morbid curiosity with death and occult.

💌Of course, this undoubtedly scared his family, making him out to be some sort of psychopath.

💌This irked Ashton of course. He's just... That. He still loves his parents, and nothing would change that.

💌But the fact that they're so conservative that it's actually bringing Ashton down is what drove him over the edge to find a school far, far away from his family.

💌A small, quaint town, yet filled with teenagers. It was kind of a nightmare when Ashton found out, but he gritted his teeth and thought that maybe, with the current years, maybe they won't judge him. Maybe.

💌So, he indulged more in his Emo lifestyle. He religiously listened to green day, Panic! At the Disco, My Chemical Romance...

💌He even got into writing poems as a way to put out his feelings that he never got to tell other people.

💌 He's actually very sensitive with emotions and feelings. So technically, he should be a great friend candidate, right?

💌But once he got into the school year, that's when he knew, that his life would be living hell. Stereotypes left and right. Mean cheerleaders and jocks that ostracized his choice of clothing, snobby rich students that turn their noses on him just because he's not that rich, geeks and nerds that keeps getting in his way, thinking he's one of them.

💌"Fuck. Get me out of here. Nobody understands me."

💌He didn't realize himself, but he's also slowly being a stereotype. Always alone, writing poems, and being unnecessarily nihilistic.

💌Until of course, one day, you transfered. You, your pink rover, and your slutty little outfit.

💌God, just looking at you and your charming personality made Ashton hard fall for you.

💌He wants you. So bad.

💌So he dabbled back into the occults. He found an old book in an abandoned "witch's hut" that he went on a mad hunt for weeks. Apparently, the witch that lived there was a matchmaker witch, who gave love potions to those really desperate.

💌At first, Ashton didn't believe it. Especially that it involves sampaguita, a flower not native to his town. How did the witch even get the flowers?

💌But there he was, mixing and creating the potion under the moonlight and putting your hair and his in the pot. Creating a love potion that smelled like the sampaguitas he had to smuggle in.

💌He wrote you letters everyday, obsessing and hyper fixating on your allure and beauty. Confessing over and over again on paper that looks old and aged with writing that looks like it came from a fountain pen. With a spritz of the love potion, he would put it in your locker.

💌God, who knew that it would work?

💌Day by day, he watched you read the letters. At first, you were disgusted (much to his dismay) but slowly, you started to read the letters with a neutral face, then a smile, then with a squeal and then a desperate plea for him to come and fuck you already.

💌Maybe putting his... Semen on your love potion got you desperate for him carnally, rather than romantically.

💌But no fretting, he would just make you fall for him.

💌And as you moan and scream out his name as he pounds into your tight hole like the feral, fuck machine he is,

💌He was pleading to the moon to see his bleeding heart and bare soul to make you his.

💌And if the moon won't allow it,

💌Well, it's nothing more love potions won't do.

💌"my beloved, why don't you drink this sweet tea I made? Why is it pink and smells floral? It's a new tea from Japan. Sakura, from what I know. It's glowing? Nonsense, love. It's probably just the lighting."

💌"Now drink up, don't let a drop go to waste."

#yandere boyfriend #yandere imagines #yandere male #yandere writing #male yandere x reader #tw yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere drabbles #lizzaneiaelizalde

200 notes · View notes

valkyrayn · 2 months

Text

sleeping with the enemy - chapter three. posted on ao3

Pairing: Marius von Hagen x afab!reader

Words: 3.9k

Tags: angst and porn, jealousy, unprotected sex, dirty talk, rough sex, fingering, emotions are involved, emotions slow burn fast sexual burn, two idiots with extreme denial, possessive, this has some plot in it if you squint

A/N: lawd did this took so long to finish cus of a long writer’s block and everything else. but anyways enjoy the porn. also what do we think of the cliffhanger heehee

also posted on ao3 if you wanna leave comments! 💜

“Come home with me tonight.”

***

It’s a flurry of urgent, desperate touches. Mouth on skin, large hands sliding up your thighs, hips, neck—everywhere. Hot breaths, tinged with alcohol, mingling and intoxicating.

Yet it’s the high, the yearning, that prolongs the state of inebriation.

Long fingers threading through your tresses, fisting and yanking, rough as he slants his mouth to meet yours in a searing kiss. He slips his tongue in, finding yours in a fight for dominance. And when he moans into your mouth, you swallow it reverently.

Kissing him, to be kissed by him—it feels like freefalling.

Teeth clashing and tongues dancing, forcing into one another’s, aching to taste, desperate to take and take and—

“Does he kiss you like this?” he rasps between the assault of his mouth on yours, biting and tugging on your lip, set on leaving indentations. A reminder of him. His possessiveness is bleeding through its crack and you relish in it.

Apparently, your body has long refused to take orders from you. It takes a great feat to even form a word in response—and even then, you only manage to reply with a small noise and a shake of your head.

"Mmm…does he touch you like this?" His fingers slide towards your bare cunt, spreading his fingers into a ‘v’ and exposing your clit to the dry air, wet and wanting—sensitive to touch. You buck against his fingers, moaning throatily when he pushes a middle finger in. His languid swipes and flicks make your knees buckle, driving you dangerously close to the edge.

Sinful lips trail a path down to your cleavage, painting your skin with his marks, your body his canvas. At the corner of your eye, you glimpse at your reflection in the mirror behind him and see the bruises on your skin, littered across your collarbone and the top of your breasts. New pink marks joining darker ones—ones that he gave you at the balcony.

Fueled with renewed arousal, you shove him back to grab onto his belt, making quick work to yank it off with practised ease. The clinking sound of his belt fills the otherwise quiet hallway of his penthouse and that’s when you realise he’s stopped moving.

He just stands there watching you.

Half-lidded eyes, staring at you through the curtain of his hair, fallen messily over his forehead. With his back fully leaning against the wall, he breathes heavily through his open mouth, chest heaving.

How does he make breathing look so fucking arousing?

A loud exhale leaves his lips then, startling you—the look of frustration clear on his face. You feel the drop in your stomach, reality snapping back in place. Both feet on the brakes—lurching you forward, a head-on collision, crashing through the glass.

He wants to stop this.

This is the part where you—leave. Turn around and leave.

Leave.

You stagger back, fingers releasing the grip on his belt to leave them hanging by his sides.

The voice of reason starts clawing its way up but just like that, it dies. It dies when his hands seize your arms, turning you around and slamming you against the hard surface of the wall.

A faint sob slips from you but before the second could follow, his grip tightens. You clench your eyes shut, lips parting but words fail you because his lips are against yours, lingering, but not quite kissing. “No, don’t…” his voice is hoarse.

“Don’t overthink this. Not again. Just—” And then his lips meet yours.

It’s a slew of hurried movements once again, clumsier and careless, as if you were rushing for something. But you have nothing but time now—time that you never had the luxury of having in secluded but public places and countryside inns.

But not this time, not here.

There are no media hounds here, no familiar faces nor strangers or even rumoured fiances to hide from. Not here, not in the safety of his 50th-floor penthouse, not in the comfort of his home.

Home. His home.

“Come home with me tonight.”

It was a quiet ride in the car and elevator, only up until the 39th floor when he swiftly turned and pressed you against the wall, kissing you so rough it made your head spin. It didn’t even register to you when the elevator dinged, not even when the doors opened, or even when he pushed you out and into the hallway of his penthouse that you were—in his home.

The green-eyed monster rears its head. Unwelcomed.

Home that he’s brought other girls over.

“We—we never…” you mumble against his skin, desperate to shake off the thoughts. You pull onto the tail of his shirt, pushing it up his abdomen, feeling the heat radiating off his body. He buries his face against your neck, leaning forward and pressing you harder against the wall.

“What?” he asks breathily, his lips on your throat, magnetised to your skin. The sounds he makes are erotic, hypnotising. You idly think that he can choose to kill you like this and you wouldn’t even realise it until it’s over.

His hand slides between the slit of your dress to grab your thigh. Your fingers curl against him, nails sinking into his skin, abs flexing underneath your touch. He repeats his question.

You expected him to brush it off, to take it as nonsensical rambling in your otherwise preoccupied mind. But instead, he pulls away to search your eyes, awaiting a response.

There’s something about the way he looks at you that makes your heart hammer violently against your chest. You chew onto your bottom lip as your mind scrambles to gather your thoughts.

“Never what?” he asks again, hooking your leg against his hip, fingertips digging into your flesh.

With a sigh, you lean your head back against the wall, jutting your chin towards him in feigned confidence, a facade to maintain your bearings.

“We never fuck on a bed.”

You didn’t miss the way his lips curled into a smirk.

His free hand travels up your back to slowly tug on the knot holding your dress together. The satin slides effortlessly down your body and pools around your hips, baring you fully to him.

“I’ll fuck you on a bed…” The hand that was on your back now brushing against the swell of your breast. “I’ll fuck you into my mattress all night if that’s what you want,” he growls against your lips.

“I’ll take my time with you tonight…” he jerks his belt off then tugs onto the placket of his pants to pull out his cock. He wraps a fist around it, hard and heavy in his hand. Eyes blown with lust, he grinds his body against yours, sliding his cock in between your folds and coating it with your slick.

Then he lines himself at your entrance, dipping his tip in.

“But I’m going to start by fucking you right…” he buries his cock to the hilt. “…here.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, nerve endings set ablaze, your walls stretching to welcome him the second time that night, filled so full of him. Marius hoists your leg higher and pins you back harder, the abrupt movement knocking the back of your head against the mirror.

Like a wire cut loose, you’re suddenly frantic—reaching forward to grab onto him, onto anything. Your nails sink into the corded muscle of his arms, feeling them flex as he fully carries your weight by lifting both legs off the ground, letting one heel fall haphazardly onto the floor.

When he pulls out to adjust your angle, you scramble to rid him of his shirt, halfway unbuttoning and halfway ripping it off from impatience. He’s grinning as he watches you, finding your frustration amusing—then he kisses the spot between your brows to ease your frown.

The emptiness has you keening, hips arching to find him—and then he slams back in, knowing exactly what you need. His fingers sink into your flesh, pressing against your hipbone as he rocks into you. “Fuck…this pussy. Mine…only mine to fuck.” His cock pushes into your dripping cunt with ease, bullying its way in to fuck the deepest parts of you.

Mine.

But you’re not his. Not really.

Don’t. Overthink. This.

You can’t remember ever feeling this good, with anyone else. You don’t think it will ever be this good with anyone else.

Stuttered breaths mingle, sweet and intoxicating. Your fingertips rest against his skin, hot beneath your touch. The only noises in the room are the little gasps he draws out from you and the clinking sound of his belt swinging at each thrust, then knocking against the glass.

“Does he fuck you…” he snaps his hips harder, “…like this?”

Each thrust sends him deeper, sliding in and out of your swollen pussy at a bruising pace, unyielding as if determined to break you. Your arms slide beneath his shirt to sink your nails into his back, clinging onto him and leaving your marks.

“You’re getting tighter…” he says between ragged breaths, leaning back to look down at your joined bodies. One of his offensively large hands cups the swell of your ass while the other finds your clit. Your heart stops at the contact.

He starts circling the nub with his thumb, drawing out loud moans from you. Your body arches against the wall, pushing yourself further into him. Your toes curl at every swipe of his thumb, smearing your slick over your folds and his cock—it makes your clit throb.

“So wet for me. So…fucking wet” God, the way he says it almost painfully through gritted teeth—it’s seared into your brain.

He opens you up with his fingers to watch his cock slide in and out of you. The lewd sight of you creaming around his shaft at each pull drives him so close to the edge.

“Oh…ohhh…Marius….”

“Tell me…did you let him fuck you?”

The squelching noise of your pussy makes the flush rise to your cheeks—positively embarrassed at how wet you are for him. You can feel your juices gushing out of you and sliding between your joined bodies.

“N-no…only you.”

“Good girl.”

Marius stops thrusting to step out of his pants then pulls you off his cock to throw your body over his shoulder. He angles your body towards his face so he can grab onto one of your breasts, wrapping his tongue around your nipple as he carries you through the house.

Cool satin sheets welcome your back when he throws you onto the bed. In quick, rushed movements he pulls the dress completely off of you and tosses it onto the floor. With those same strong hands, he grabs onto your ankles and drags you towards the edge of the bed.

“How do you want me to fuck you?” he asks, dragging his lips up your leg, resting against his shoulder. He slowly unfastens the straps of your stiletto before pulling it off your foot and then tossing it aside.

“Do you want me to be gentle…” he trails, running his fingertips down your thigh, towards your cunt.

“Or…” he slides two fingers into your hole, hot and clenching at the intrusion. “…you’ll let me do whatever I want?”

He curls his fingers upwards, making you scream and arch your back off the bed. “Fuck….Wh—whatever. Do whatever you want just please…please. Want you inside…”

“Then spread your legs wider for me.”

With a satisfied smirk, he watches as your legs fall open for him, your body so pliant to his commands.

Marius stands between your legs and starts fucking you with his fingers, working his wrist, thumb flicking roughly at your clit—while two fingers pump in and out. You can hear the wet sounds of your cunt as he fingerfucks you, your slick gushing out of you as you shatter around him, unprepared—screaming into the ceiling, cunt throbbing and clamping onto him, wishing it was his cock.

“Fuck oh my god…fuck…mmmph!”

He slides his slick-coated digits into your mouth, swiping them against your lips and tongue. You suck onto them earnestly, cleaning them, the heady taste of your arousal on his fingers has drug-like qualities and you’re addicted. You moan around his fingers when he slaps his cock against your clit, sliding through your folds, coaxing more slick to gush out of you, drenching him.

When he finally pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he cups your ass and tilts your hips higher then unceremoniously pushes in, impaling your cunt to the hilt with his cock.

“I love how you’re always so tight…”

He presses onto the underside of your thighs until your knees rest against your tits. He leans forward, putting half his weight against you as he continues to pound into your sex.

“...even though we fuck—so much.”

The pace he sets is aggressive, relentless—snapping his hips so hard against yours you know the pain would linger even hours after. And it’s a fever of sounds—laboured breaths, choked groans and pleading whimpers. Filthy praises continue to spill from his lips in between stuttered grunts.

Your arms and hands scramble to find something to hold onto, moving from gripping the sheets to clawing his back, fisting his hair until finally he gathers your wrists with one hand and pins them above your head.

“Fuck! Keep your hands to yourself and just feel me inside you.” He drives his cock even deeper to see your eyes roll to the back of your head. He grins and leans down to suck on your breasts—tongue and teeth, licking and biting onto the stiff peaks, drawing salacious moans from you.

“God your moans…louder. Louder for me, baby. I want to hear you…” He glides his tongue in between the swell of your breasts, up your neck and finally your lips. “...there’s nobody here. Just us.”

Just us.

You blink at the ceiling, refocusing your eyes to look at him, face hovering above you and lips lingering against yours. His eyes bore into yours, almost as if he’s reading your mind. And his next words have you thinking that it’s possible.

“What? Going to say you hate me again?”

“No…” you reply, leaning forward to lightly press your lips against his in a soft kiss. “I—I…” Your throat tightens.

He doesn’t wait for you to finish and leans in to kiss you back, once, twice, then kisses the corner of your lips—gentle, and sweet, it makes your heart ache.

He shoves you up onto the center of the bed and climbs up over you, then continues to fuck you before you can even begin to overanalyse. Gripping onto your ass with one hand, he starts rocking faster, slamming against you so hard that every thrust drives your body further up the bed.

The smell of sex is thick, permeating the air and crowding your senses. At this very moment, nothing else exists but this—the sheer pleasure consuming you, body and psyche. And you let him. With no resistance, you let him.

His brutal pounding sets your body on fire, and it drives you mad with lust to witness him lose all control. To take you so hard, so rough yet with care.

Marius buries his face against the curve of your neck, breathing heavily and mumbling words you can’t quite catch. You turn your head towards him, peering down at him through your lashes, realising only now that they’re damp with tears. He looks up at you at the same time, eyes glazing, drunk on sex.

He pushes himself back up, caging your body with his arms on either side before dragging himself all the way out. You whine at the loss, whimpers immediately swallowed by him as he kisses you, slow and sweetly. He drives his cock back in, making you arch and roll your hips desperately against his.

Sensing that you’re close, he gathers your legs and props them against his shoulders. You loudly gasp when you feel him push against your cervix, your hands shooting up to claw onto his back, making him hiss.

He slides out, grabs onto the headboard behind you and roughly rams back in. Your vision turns white, eyes rolling so far back, you fear they’d fall off their sockets. The noise that he tears from you does not sound human, unrecognisable to your own ears. He’s so fucking deep you can feel him in your throat.

“Marius fuck! Fuck…deep. So deep…”

“Want you to feel me for days…”

“…deep. So good…you fuck me so good. Oh my god—”

“Mine…all mine…”

“…y—yours.”

The loud sounds of pleasure leaving your mouth fills the room and you quietly appreciate the fact that the 50th floor is far enough from any human ears.

The headboard slams repeatedly against the wall, loud and in tandem with his thrusts. You even hear the noise made by your slick bodies, skin slapping against eachother so obscenely. Your senses are overloaded—and you’re so close.

“Cum for me, baby.”

The dam breaks. The earth shatters around you, coming so hard around him that it feels like an out-of-body experience. Your body twitches and jerks underneath him—cunt squeezing him so tight it triggers his own orgasm almost immediately.

You catch him just in time, snapping your eyes wide open as you watch him barrel towards his climax, stuttered grunts leaving his lips as he shoots his cum inside you in hot thick spurts. He exhales with a loud groan, hips still pressed against you, burying you into his mattress as promised.

You barely realise the loud sobs that escape you, and you can’t even tell what it’s for. Myriad of emotions crashing onto you simultaneously and you try to reach for one—needing to know why.

When he gathers you in his arms, the sobs become even louder. But as quickly as it came, you shut it down almost immediately the moment he tilts your head up to look at him.

He says nothing as his thumb brushes over your cheek to wipe away the tears, not even when he tucks your hair behind your ear. He tightens his arms around you, burying your face against his chest.

You can hear his rapid heartbeat, and you feel yourself slipping into slumber as you continue listening as it returns to its normal rhythm.

The sound of him shuffling out of bed and moving around the room has you drifting between sleep and wakefulness. The warm sensation between your thighs startles you awake but you remain still—feigning sleep.

Marius is cleaning the fluids from your skin, wiping the inside of your thighs gently with a warm towel. You feel your chest tighten at the realisation, those familiar and unwelcomed emotions flooding in once again.

When he leaves, you feel cold and it takes all of you not to turn and find him, fearing that he’s left you for good. It’s when you’re enveloped by his arms that you let go a silent breath of relief. You curl against him, pressing your body close, greedy for his warmth.

“I don’t hate you…” you whisper silently against his chest, having no intention for him to hear. A silent confession. “I think I l—like you…”

As you drift into slumber, you faintly hear him whisper it back to you.

***

When you are woken up the next time, you find him lazily stroking the skin between your legs. It didn’t take long for your body to respond to him, finding yourself drenched that you’re soaking through his sheets.

The next few hours up till morning was spent with more rounds of fucking—alternating between hard and fast to sweet and gentle. You could’ve sworn that the wall behind his bed is left dented after all the force it endured.

It always ends with him filling you up with his load and making sure it stays in by pushing it back inside you with his tongue and fingers. “Taste us…” he would say, sliding his fingers into your mouth. Watching you lick them clean only spurs him on and then he’s ramming his cock inside you again.

He made good on his promise to fuck you all day in bed—set on leaving an indentation on his mattress in the shape of your body.

Yet not once was it brought up.

It being your stupid, fucking feelings for him.

***

Your eyes linger on his bare back, decorated with red marks in the shape of your nails across his skin. Your thighs clench at the memories of last night.

Marius is sitting on the edge of the bed, stretching and flexing his arms upward then turns his head around so suddenly you yelp, pulling the sheets up your face.

“If you want to keep staring, I’m not going to stop you,” he says, you can hear the smirk in his words.

You feel the sheets being pulled down slowly and as it rests below your naked breasts, he climbs on top of you and cages you with his arms. His eyes gaze hungrily over you and your cunt throbs as you watch him slide out his tongue to wet his lips.

“Shower?”

“O—okay. I’ll go after you’re done.”

He raises a brow and scoffs. Suddenly he’s off the bed and scoops you up before throwing you over his shoulder. “Marius!”

***

Nothing was said even a week later. And apparently, there’s not enough alcohol in the world that could give you the balls to do it either. Oh god, I’m going to become an alcoholic.

Silence, all around the table. Turns out you had said that last part out loud.

“Please, you only had a glass.”

Okay, so you’re a lightweight. Fuck off, Luke.

Laughter and then the conversation continues, thankfully without you included. You stare down at your phone and contemplate, as you have been for the past few days.

You haven’t seen him since that day because he’s off to fuck knows where doing fuck knows what, again—and honestly good for him. At least you don’t have to deal with bumping into him and his stupid handsome face as he tries to intercept your mission again. Fuck Marius, really. Figuratively and literally, unfortunately. God, fuck him.

Courage surges through you, fueled by alcohol and rage and other emotions but mostly rage—you unlock your phone and start typing your message when suddenly a message pops up at the top of your screen. You click on it without a thought.

‘What will your sweet friends think if they see this…’

Another message comes in—a video attached.

You sink deeper against the corner of the booth, putting a good distance away from the others before clicking play, your curiosity overriding your sense of logic.

It’s the unmistakable figures of Marius’ and your own, clear even though taken from a far distance. It was one of the more reckless trysts, out in public, secluded, or so you thought. You remember it clearly because you had been the one to initiate it.

Pulling him to the back alley where you proceeded to beg him to take you, right then and there. Marius did little to protest, wanting the same thing. It had been quick and desperate right against the brick wall, leaving you both feeling dirty afterwards.

‘cute dress btw.’

You whip your head around and search the room, wondering if this person is in the bar and if this is just one sick joke. Your heart is pounding, loud in your ears like nails being hammered against your skull. Who. Who the fuck—

‘stay away and this will be our little secret’

‘he’s mine’

‘stay safe xo’

For the longest time you had contemplated on how to walk away. To end things. For so long you had contemplated, until you don’t.

And now, this is how it ends. This is how it should end. She made it so easy for you.

But why does it still fucking hurt?

#brainrotdump #brainrot #marius von hagen smut #tears of themis smut #lu jinghe smut

78 notes · View notes