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dragonmuse · 6 months

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Keep It In The Box : An Essay on OFMD Season 2 and the Failure to Heal

(here in is my season two reaction. It contains many many spoilers. It's also about 3k words long so you know what you're getting into.)

“See, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box in my mind, and I put the things in the box..” -Frenchie, Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death

…..and then he never opens it. Chekov’s locked box has no key in season two.

On first watch, it seemed clear to me that Frenchie’s declaration was a narrative plant. Clearly the whole season would be about that box of pain and trauma being opened, sorted through and at least the beginning of healing. The show had developed a reputation after season one of being kind and focused on queer narratives of healing from childhood. Ed and Stede’s parallels in their childhood traumas were frequently on display through season one and were repeated in flashback throughout season two. Jim’s season one arc about becoming someone who doesn’t think just of revenge and can now forge meaningful connections was profound, beautiful and often funny. Izzy is an antagonist because he doesn’t want Ed to move on or stop acting like the trauma-response version of himself. The antagonist wants to stop healing. The point is to grow, to change, to learn how to love. It’s one of the things that made season one work for me at the time, despite reservations about pacing and tone.

So naturally season two should follow suit. It’s a kind show! About healing and falling in love!

For the first several episodes, the remaining crew on the Revenge go through a gauntlet of trauma, forced to do and receive violence at Ed’s whims as he careens from self-destructive behavior to self-destructive behavior. This is the wounding setup. It was dark, but it seemed like it would have a payoff and at first it did.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful moments of the season comes in one of the small respites in those early episodes as Jim recounts Pinnochio to Fang to soothe him through his grief. That was the show that I expected. The kindness of that moment struck me very deeply. It gave me some understanding of Archie too, who seems to fall for Jim right at that moment.

That scene is the show season one promised. Season two led with packing Frenchie’s box full to bursting. Here is the fight to the death between lovers, there is a first mate who is mutilated and rotting in the very walls (the rot of the Revenge itself), and there is the storm of Ed’s rage and pain that threatens to consume all of them.

So surely these remaining episodes would concentrate on finding the humor in healing from those moments. That is the setup. Frenchie has a box. The box must eventually open.

Except time and again, all the characters who suffered are told that the only way to deal with what they’ve been through is to stick it in the box and never open it again.

Pete tells Lucius that he’s unable to move on and needs to let it go. Izzy has a story about a shark. Ed’s apology to the crew which doesn’t even contain the words ‘I’m sorry’ is just…accepted. I kept waiting and waiting for a meaningful apology to the people Ed had hurt the worst with his actions, but it seems all we get is Fang saying ‘eh, no problem, I got to hit you back so I feel better’.

The playful theme of ‘pirates are just violent sometimes’ from season one becomes a grinding horror machine in season two when every atrocity visited on someone is forgiven because the narrative needs it to be. Ed and Stede spend more time making amends with each other over the bloodless night on the beach than either of them spend trying to repent for their actions towards anyone else.

And let’s talk about Ed. Arguably this season pivots on his narrative, on his path to healing and growth. A path that starts at a very low point. His moment in the gravy basket, deciding he wants to live because there are still things to live for is so great! So one might assume that what would follow would be him pursuing those things, making amends, making connections. He and Stede have a wonderful moment, talking about being whim prone and how they’ll work to avoid that, build a relationship by going slower.

Yet, at no point do either of them stop following whims. They never heal or learn from what’s happened to them. They both keep running from thing to thing, particularly Ed. It’s a whim to sleep with Stede, it’s a whim to run off to fish, and the finale gives us just more of their whims. Ed drops fishing as fast as he picked it up. He finds those leathers in the ocean, murdering the symbolism of leaving them behind. Even the inn is a whim, one of those things Ed decided he’d be good at without evidence. And Stede joins him in that without a single on screen conversation about it ahead of the moment.

Ed needs to heal himself and to do that he needs to confront what he’s done and do the work to heal the wound. Instead, he doesn’t meaningfully apologize to anyone, besides Stede and Fang. Despite Izzy’s dying words (we’ll get to that), not only do we never see the crew caring about Ed, working to make him family in the same way they do with Fang and even Izzy, he also doesn’t choose to stay with them. So what is the point? Where is the healing? Or does even Ed, beloved main character, have to live with it all stuffed in a box?

He ends the season in the leathers he threw away, in a relationship that’s barely stabilized, going to live in a house which we are told by the narrative (in that they are very very clearly paralleling Anne and Mary with Ed and Stede or why do we even get that whole Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? episode) will only end in them setting fire to each other to stay warm.

But Vee, I hear you cry, it’s a ROM-COM. This is all meant to be ha-ha funny and you are taking it so seriously!

Cool beans. Then why the hell isn’t it funny? Healing is often filled with comedy because people deal with pain with humor. You can heal and laugh at the same time. The finale especially is almost entirely devoid of laughs, almost entirely devoid of joy until the last minute for that matter. The episode that should show off with a flourish how far everyone’s come, mostly serves to show that no one has grown.

Okay that’s Ed. I want to talk about Lucius next. Our former audience surrogate (that’s taken away in season two when he doesn’t get enough screen time to perform that role and no one takes his place) really goes through the wringer. He experiences many many terrible things, including sexual assault (which is made into a grimace-laugh line that doesn’t take away from it’s seriousness because oh hey, that can be done as it turns out). He’s nervous, he’s smoking, it’s clear he’s suffering.

There’s a beautiful moment where Pete tells him ‘hey, I was also in pain. I grieved’ and that’s great. It’s good that Pete sets a boundary about Lucius not obsessing over the past to the point of occluding their future.

We even get our comedic moment where Lucius pushes Ed off the boat (still not apology, but I’d lost hope for that by then) and that doesn’t help enough. So Izzy comes in with a shark and the advice that you just have to move on.

Just…you know. Play pretend. Forget.

Shove it in a box. Ed didn’t take my leg, a shark did. Ed didn’t kill you, a shark did. Live with the person that tried to murder you because it’s your fault you dangled your leg over the side of a boat. That is the show’s message. I thought on first watch, that surely this would also come back up and be explained that you can’t live that way, that that is no way to heal. That it would become clear that this was no way through. You cannot make everything into sharks.

Lucius can move forward and still carry pain. He can still want a meaningful apology and still want to talk to his lover about what he’s dealing with while moving forward toward a brighter future.

And what of the flirtatious promise of relationships and connections being the way to heal? Look to Oluwande and Jim, whose heartfelt romance from season one was relegated to the bins of history in favor of a narrative that made him a brother Jim once had sex with. They could have had Archie AND Oluwande, who in turn could also have Zheng, but that never seems to be an option. With a single short conversation, they are broken up with, despite a brief tease at the birthday that they still ‘dance’ together, it never actually manifests. Jim and Archie never talk about what they went through. It’s swept under the rug as fast as knives are lowered.

Lucius also no longer flirts with other people, the solution to his pain is to propose and get married (but not too married, lest we forget that they’re two men, they don’t even get to be husbands or even the more respectful mates, no. They’re mateys.) This season proposes that the only happy endings are monogamous ones, where no one talks about anything painful that went before.

To ensure that message, beyond assuring the success of Oluwande and Zheng’s relationship, Jim and Archie almost entirely disappear from the narrative. Sorry you guys were given layers of trauma and no growth and not even much to do this season, we need to make sure that everyone remembers Oluwande is the break in Zheng’s day so when he says that to her five minutes later we know exactly what he’s referencing. No time for Archie to learn what an apology is or for Jim to get one line in with Oluwande that isn’t affirming their newfound broship. Must do more flashbacks to things we just did two episodes ago!

The show even dangles the conversation of the Revenge being a safe space. Why would any of them ever feel safe when the man who tortured them is allowed to walk among them and they are expected to forgive and forget? What’s safe about that? The ship is never made safe for any of them, but that’s never addressed.

And Zheng! Amazing, hysterically funny Zheng! She loses her ships, her entire way of life, the kingdom she built for herself and then…she doesn’t even get to captain the Revenge. We don’t know what becomes of her fleet, of her plans, her ambitions. Don’t worry about it, she has a romantic partner and isn’t that what every lady wants in the end?

(But Vee, I hear you cry again, there will be a season three! Maybe it will be All About Zheng! To which I say: then why did they present us with the most series finale feeling episode ever? If there’s more, I have no idea where it’s going. BUT VEE: BUTTONS AS SEAGULL ON THE GR- Fine. It’s time.)

Let’s talk about Izzy Hands.

Izzy manages more healing than anyone else this season. He reaches his lowest point, suicidal in the bowels of a ship that’s become a prison (very much in contrast to Ed’s suicidal low). The person he loves most in the world has shredded him physically and emotionally (and if you’re in the camp that thinks Izzy deserves the abuse that Ed gave to him, I would really like you to sit quietly with yourself and ask why you think there is ever anything anyone can do to deserve that treatment). He’s low, he shoots Ed to protect everyone, and then seems to plan to drink himself to death, mourning his losses.

And then another beautiful moment! The crew move past their own pain to help him. They work together for the first time and it’s to give Izzy mobility back. He treasures it. He cries over it. He uses that kindness extended to him to reach a new understanding of Stede and help him succeed, doing the work to make real amends. He sings in drag, he’s vulnerable and beautiful, celebrating the side of himself that he must’ve loathed in the first season. He’s an elder queer man, coming into himself.

He never gets an apology though. (‘Sorry about your leg’ without eye contact is not an apology. There is no responsibility taking, no acknowledgement of the weeks of torture that came with it.) Izzy also never really has an honest conversation with anyone about what it means that the man he loves punished him so severely for the crime of trying to protect the crew (yes, lest we forget, Izzy lost his leg because he was trying to keep Ed from re-traumatizing the crew and himself).

Izzy does all this work, but even he’s not allowed to take it out of the box. It’s a shark, not Ed. Ed is just ‘complicated’ (the language of abuse here is so upsetting and I think not even intentional).

And then he dies. His last act? To apologize to the man who tortured him and shot at him. To have done all this work, to take on all the blame. And then die.

In a rom com.

This show ends in a profoundly unfunny moment of telling the audience: this is the one character that did the work, that made amends, that tried his hardest to accept the parts of himself that he had a hard time embracing and formerly embittered him. He’s fully accepted his queerness and turned it into beautiful music. He’s disabled, and he worked hard to accept that. The man he loves will never love him back, so he worked hard to make Stede able to meet Ed on an even playing field. The Giving Tree gave up its limbs and its trunk, and it’s not even allowed to be a stump to sit on.

Kill the queer elder, who has managed to figure out how to live and in his own way how to heal. Kill him before he manages to teach anyone else how to meaningfully move forward (he almost gets it with Lucius, almost, but it’s meant to be rule of three, you know. Cigarette..shark…and then…and then fuck it, Lucius doesn’t even get to say a word at his funeral).

The message of this season again and again is that there is no healing, just moving forward. Like a shark. Like a bird that never lands.

That is not a kind show.

Season two is not a kind season.

It splinters people up and jams them back together without purpose or reason. It tells everyone who experiences pain that they should shove it in a box and not deal with it. No one who really needs one gets an apology of any sincerity. No one puts in the work to gain forgiveness. (Ed wearing a onesie is not The Work. Ed fixing a door is not The Work. Ed broke people that the show wants us to care about. Ed never does the work of making those amends. He fires off a Notes app apology at best. After all, it’s what he told himself via Hornigold in the gravy basket: you move on or you blow your brains out! Good thing he took his own advice and therefore had to change nothing to get his just rewards.

I would’ve taken just fifteen minutes of Ed trying to actually make amends. It could’ve been hilarious! Imagine awkward Ed trying to dance around what he’s doing with Jim and the two of them having a knife throwing competition about it. Or him and Frenchie attempting to make music together, writing a song about the raids they went on! It’s not just the crew robbed of their healing because of this, it’s Ed himself. He never meaningfully changes or makes amends. How is he any different at the end of the finale then he is standing on the edge of that cliff with Hornigold? He hasn’t moved on, he hasn’t healed. He tried one thing (fishing) that doesn’t fucking work and then he runs right back.

No one leaves this season better than they went into it. They’ve lost an elder queer, they’ve lost their joyous and queer polyamory, they’ve lost a chance for meaningful reconciliation with Ed and Ed lost any chance of looking like he gave shit if they did. Stede grows enough to accept the crew’s beliefs as important and then leaves them behind without a care.

Izzy gets a beautiful speech about piracy being larger than yourself. Ed and Stede, within twenty minutes of that speech, leave piracy. They are incapable of giving themselves to something bigger, apparently. They haven’t learned to be a part of a community. They haven’t healed from their childhood trauma or their fresher wounds. They are still just following their own whims.

Zheng’s life work is in tatters, but it’s fine, she has love. Oluwande and Jim aren’t together, but it's fine because they both have dedicated monogamous partners. Lucius was deeply scarred by what happened, never recovers much of his first season personality, but hey he got-well it’s not married exactly- but you know good enough!

Frenchie, who has a box forever locked in his head, is captain. Because the key to success is to lock it all in a box and never open it. What a message. What a show. Conceal, don’t feel. Smile because it’s a happy ending. Don’t mourn the dead, don’t try to tell people what happened to you (they will literally run away or cry too hard to listen and really you’re just bumming them out), and any meaningful change you make is only rewarded with death.

Frenchie is now a pirate captain with a box in his head full of trauma that’s never been opened, leading a crew with more wounds than scars. Wonder how that could turn out? Wonder how many years before he might want to retire and then happen to run across a gentleman pirate. As if no one learned anything at all.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd spoilers #the strangest message sent #and no idea if it was on purpose #I kind of think it wasn't somehow #but boy howedy did it come across

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 7 months

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Holy shit guys.

Did not expect that last post to blow up like that, like?? Thank you??

You're all amazing and I love you.

Almost as much as I love this sassy asshole.

I mean look at him.

So anyway here's a ton of romancey headcannons, both fluffy and spicy, definitely NSFW.

LA!Mihawk X Fem!Reader

L'alphabet d'Amour:

Dracule Mihawk

A — Afterglow (How are they after sex?)

You're having a bath together. This is not up for debate.

He's going to get it started and carry you to the bathroom.

Candlelight, wine.

Probably not much talking, but he'll wrap an arm around your waist and pull you back against him, and trail kisses down your neck and your shoulders.

B — Backrubs? (Do they like them? Like giving them?)

Not really likely to initiate it on a whim unless he knows you're hurting.

He won't say no if you ask.

If he's sore and exhausted from training or fighting and you give him a massage, you're probably going to be getting a lot more than a massage in return.

Soft sighs and words of praise.

"You are an absolute treasure, my love."

C — Cuddling (Do they enjoy cuddling a lot ot only at certain moments?)

Again, he isn't likely to initiate it outside the bedroom, but if you drop yourself into his lap he's not going to turn you away.

Pulling you closer by your waist and brushing your hair away from your eyes.

Gettle kisses at your temple, the top of your head, your hands.

He's more iffy about it in public or when other peoole are present, and might be a little tense about doing more than having his arm around your waist while walking.

D — Dance (Are they good at it? Do they enjoy it?)

His grace and poise in swordfighting transfers directly to dancing.

It isn't exactly a hobby, but in the corrrect setting he enjoys it uwith you.

Strong preference for slow-dancing.

Holding your waist and cradling your hand gently in his his, gazing into your eyes in a way that makes your knees weak.

That little smirk when he notices you getting hot under the collar.

Leaning in to murmur in your ear, his hand slipping behind you to caress the back of your thigh.

"Now now...don't get too worked up, little one. We are still in public."

Soft kisses at your jaw and your neck when no one is looking.

E — Extravagant Genstures (Things they do to make you feel loved, things they appreciate you doing.)

He loves buying you things. Clothes, jewelry, perfume. Almost anything you mention wanting in front of him, he's going to find time to get it.

Taking you out for the evening to expensive restaurants and hotels, keeping an arm around your waist to make sure everyone knows you're his.

Possessive but not controlling—at least not outside of bed.

F — Fighting (How do they hand arguments/apologies?)

He ALWAYS has to be right. He doesn't like admitting he's wrong, but he will do so begrudgingly if he actually is.

He will apologize first if he has to—he doesn't like having you mad at him.

Silence doesn't normally bother him at all, but you giving him the silent treatment will drive him absolutely crazy.

"Would you just say something, woman? I prefer you yelling to this petty nonsense."

The make-up sex is absolute fire.

As if he isn’t the king of petty nonsense.

G — Getting Hot (What they do to turn you on, things you do that gets them riled up)

He doesn't beat around the bush—he has no problem worh pulling you to him, looking you in the eyes, and telling you he wants you.

Trails his fingers down your arms, your neck.

Deep, firm kisses, pressing you up against the wall.

He doesn't do much dirty talking, prefering to keep his nouth occupied with other things—but if you start talking dirty in his ear, there's not going to be much teasing before he's dragging you into bed (if you even make it that far).

Knowing how badly you want to touch him but pinning your hands above your head anyway.

H — Heartache (How would they handle it if you broke up with them?)

Completely devastated, though not showing it to anyone.

There's going to be a lot of wine involved.

Thinking of ways to win you back, though uncertain if or when it would be appropriate to attempt.

Seeing you in public and struggling not to just pull you to him and kiss you.

I — Intimacy (When are they intimate with you? And how often?)

He strongly prefers to be physically intimate in a private setting.

He has enough self-control not to be all over you 24/7, but he loves touching you and shows it plenty.

Sneaking up behind you and wrapping an arm around your waist, brushing your hair out of the way to kiss down your neck.

Whispering or murmuring sweet things in your ear.

Gazing into your eyes like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen.

"You are a living goddess, my love."

J — Joker (How do they make you laugh?)

Usually it's his dry sarcasm. He's not the type to crack jokes but some of the one-liners that leave his mouth put you on the floor.

Undisputed king of shit-talking and insults.

"I envy everyone that has never met you."

It's fun to spout of stupid useless facts in front of him because the look on his face when his brain short-circuits always gives you a good giggle.

"Somewhere in the world, there exists a tree with the single purpose of replacing the oxygen you consume. I suggest you find it and apologize."

K — Kissing (How good? How often?)

It's not as if he can't keep his lips off of you, but he typically always gives you at least a peck on the lips or the cheek when you or he enters the room.

His kisses are deep and intense and tend to leave you breathless.

When you're getting intimate, he kisses every inch of your skin he can reach.

"You taste divine."

L — Lay down (How do they sleep with you? Are they cuddler or do they prefer their space?)

He loves falling asleep with you against him.

His arm under your neck and curled around your back, holding you against his side or his chest.

Combing his fingers through your hair as you drift off to sleep.

Pulling your hand up from his chest to press a kiss to it.

He doesn't say it constantly, but he always whispers "I love you" just before you fall asleep.

M — Making babies (Do they want to settle down and have kids?)

No kids.

Mihawk does not have the patience to deal with small boisterous humans.

He has never considered having children.

N — Nervous? (How confident are they when it comes to romance?)

Very confident, but not to the point if arrogance...usually.

Mihawk knows ehat he wants and he knows how to get it.

He doesn't beat around the bush or take half-measures.

If he knows you want the same thing—whether it's a kiss, a steamy make-out session, or hours of passionate love-making, he has no problem being the one to initiate.

O — Oral Fixation (Giving or recieving? And how good are they?)

He insists in being the dominant one in any intimate scenario, so he tends to be more of a giver.

Keeps his eyes glued to yours while he's trailing kisses down your body and up your thighs.

It's unheard of him to not have you moaning and calling his name within a minute flat.

No teasing or stopping right before you orgasm—he will literally make you cum until you pass out if you don't tell him to stop or slow down.

He isn't going to complain about recieving—but he always stops you before he can lose control, to either return the favor or fuck you senseless.

P — Pet Peeves (Things they don't like in a partner)

Questionable persinal hygeine. He's always clean and well-groomed and he values the same in his lover.

Uncleanliness in general, e.g. leaving trash or dirty dishes lying around.

Being indirect or aloof about your emotions. He doesn't mince words and he would strongly prefer you didn't either.

Q — Quiet Time (How much alone time do they need, or do they want to be with you 24/7?)

He doesn't utterly require that you be around him at all times, but it doesn't bother him if you want to be.

Don't bother him when he's training either, unless it's to request to train with him. He won't always agree to it, but he doesn't mind it sometimes.

Don't bother him while he's reading. He doesn't mind if you want to snuggle up next to him, but don't be distracting.

R — Romance (How romantic are they? Do they have to force it or dies it come natural?)

Romantic isn't his default setting, but when the mood strikes him he can and will make you feel like a goddess.

Candlelit dinners and expensive wine.

Laying out a blanket outside amd stargazing between tender kisses.

Making love on a bed covered in rose petals.

"You are my greatest treasure, little one."

Intimate, tender whispers against your skin.

S — Spending Money (How much do they like to spend on you?)

Being a pirate lord he's filthy rich, so he doesn't give a second thought about buying you things

If he sees a dress/outfit he'd like to see on you in a shop window, he doesn't hesitate to purchase it.

He buys you lingerie pretty regularly, in part because seeing you in lace or nylon more often than not leads to him tearing it off of you.

He gets quite baffled if you tell him he's spending too much on you.

"A beautiful woman deserves beautiful things."

He isn't going to stop, so it's better you just get used to it and enjoy it.

T — Trust (Are they trusting of you? Jealous?)

He trusts you implicitly—you wouldn't be his lover if he didn't.

That being said, he doesn't take kindly to other men looking at you or attempting to flirt with you, and he will make it known that you're his.

Even if that means grabbing you and kissing you in the middle of a crowded tavern, staking his claim for all to witness.

Too much PDA makes him a bit uncomfortable, but he doesn't want other men eyeing you like a piece of meat, either.

U — Underwear (What kind do they wear, and what kind do they like on you?)

Boxer-briefs. He's hung and he knows it, and he likes showing it off in the tighter fit of underwear.

He loves seeing you in sheer, lacy bras and panties almost as much as he loves tearing them off of you.

Caressing and playing with you through the fabric until your panties are completely soaked and you're begging for more.

V — Vulnerable (How vulnerable are they with you? Is it easy for them to open up to you?

Mihawk isn't one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but he's as open and honest with you as he can be.

You're the only person he lets himself be even remotely vulmerable around.

When it comes to his past he's an open book.

He'll answer any questions you have while he holds you close, his arm around your waist and your head resting against his shoulder.

W — Wine and Dine (Do they prefer meals at home or going out with you? Who does more of the cooking?)

While he very much enjoys taking you out to classy, expensive restaurants, he loves the sight of you flitting around the kitchen.

He isn't much of a cook, but if you ask for assistance with anything he'll do his best.

He doesn't make it horribly obvious, likely reading a book or the newspaper and sitting somewhere nearby, but he can barely keep his eyes off of you.

X — X-Rated (How good are they in bed? What do they like?)

He's an incredible lover—passionate, intense, attentive, and with the stamina that comes from years of strength and ensurance training.

Making you scream his name is one of his favorite passtimes.

He likes to pick you up and carry you to bed.

How rough he is relates directly to how wound up he is—he might lay you down gently and follow, trailing kissed down your neck.

Or he might throw you onto the bed, kiss you hard enough to bruise your lips while he's quickly amd deftly tugging your clothes off.

Not much talking, since his mouth is too busy, but he might murmur a few soft words of encouragement and praise against your skin now and again.

"That's it, goddess. Break for me."

"I can't wait to be inside you. I've craved you all damned day."

Trailing kisses down your body, his hands resting at your hips.

He wastes very little time, tightening his grip on your hips, his eyes glued to yours so he can watch you come apart.

Licks slowly up your wet folds before sucking your clit into his mouth, with a quiet purr of approval when you moan softly at the sensations his skilled tongue sends through you.

Unyielding and unrelenting—he loves when you grip at his hair and grind against his tongue, loves feeling how wet you get as he pushes two fingers deep inside you, pressing them against your g-spot until you're arching off the bed and he's shoving you back down by your hips.

He only stops when you beg for more of him, sitting up on his knees and pulling your body to him by your hips—pulling you right now onto his thick shaft with a quiet grunt, filling you in one firm, deep thrust. He loves hearing you beg, but he never makes you wait for long.

He prefers positions where he can look into your eyes, and see the exact moment when you shatter.

Pulls you up onto your knees to stradle him in the middle of your orgasm, kissing your neck while you cling to him and moan in his ear, lowering his head to capture one of your sensitive nipples in his mouth just to prolong the high of your pleasure for as long as possible.

Guides your hips with his hands, onto his cock again and again, shuddering slightly at the sensation of your inner walls gripping at him.

Being the one in control of your pleasure makes him *weak*, and he always gives everything he has when he makes love to you.

Multiple rounds, with deep, slow kisses and caressess between each one.

He strongly prefers to cum inside you, kissing you deeply and with soft groans against your lips, rolling his hips in time with each pleasurable throb.

He can go all night—you have to be the one to tell him when you're too spent to keep going, or he *will* make you pass out from sheer overexertion.

Y — Yearning (How long will they pursue the person they're interested in before losing interest?)

Absolutely loves the thrill of the chase. If he knows you aren't interested, he won't pressure you.

But if you're playing hard to get just to get under his skin, it drives him wild, and he'll keep it up however long it takes to have you.

His advances are subtle—soft, temder touches.

Lowering his voice to an intimate murmur.

Like a hawk sizing up its prey before swooping in for the kill.

Coming within a breath of your lips touching and pulling back from it.

Z — Zen (What do they do to wind down and relax? Do they prefer to do it alone or with you?)

An afternoon nap is probably his favorite way to wind down.

If you're not nearby, he will find you and pull you to the nearest bed, armchair, couch, hammock, or any other such appropriate furniture.

Hold you against his chest and brush his lips to your temple, breathing in your scent and lacing his fingers with yours.

Watch you fall asleep ahead of him.

He also reads a bit to relax, and as long as you don't interupt him he enjoys having you close.

Particularly if you lie down woth your head in his lap with your own book.

Combing his fingers absently through your hair between turning pages.

#opla #mihawk one piece #mihawk opla #dracule mihawk #mihawk x reader #headcannons #fluff #fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece headcanons #smut

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haeryna · 3 months

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i would give up heaven if i had to ↪ gojo satoru x reader x geto suguru ✶.ೃ࿔*.

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summary: sugar melts saccharide sweet on his tongue, and yet the taste in his mouth is so very bitter. the look in suguru's eyes tells him more than any words could. they'd messed up; badly.

tw: angst but melancholic? mentions of illness, mentions of abandonment, reader has a healthy relationship with their parents, author uses switches between "gojo/geto" and "satoru/suguru" to denote emotions. food as a metaphor for love. not proofread. author is extremely tired

notes: title taken from enhyphen's "sweet venom (english version)." a shorter chapter to kind of fill in the gaps. banner from @/cafekitsune

It's been a week since Gojo and Geto showed up at your doorstep and ever since then, you've been filled with a pervasive sense of anxiety. After the whole six hours they spent pleading outside your door (you shudder just thinking about it), they had been uncharacteristically silent. It had gotten to the point where you felt almost a bit insane, peeking your head out the door to check outside if anyone was waiting for you, before you left for work.

It didn't matter if it had been five years, or five days. You knew them better than you'd even known yourself. The freckle on Suguru's collarbone. The barely noticeable scar on Satoru's arm. How Suguru preferred tea, black, and always expensive, while Satoru's guilty pleasure was instant coffee with ungodly amounts of syrups and sugars added to it. You knew them, and therefore you knew that the silence was suspicious. Even as children, whenever you'd get into fights, they would be even clingier than usual, as if they were desperate to reaffirm that you were still there.

So why was it so quiet?

The scream of the tea kettle startles you out of your thoughts and you flinch, hastily moving to remove it from the stove. Why should you care? The audacity they'd had, coming to your doorstep on a whim, before claiming they had no choice. Your thoughts are more bitter than the medicine you mix into your parents' tea. Satoru had been undoubtably hysterical once his parents had found out. You couldn't blame him for that. But Suguru had been the one to call all the shots, buying two plane tickets instead of three.

What if they couldn't afford a third one?

You shake your head, as if you could physically shake the thought. It doesn't matter now, you think viciously, as you stack the cups on a tray. Five years was a long time to go without seeing someone for. Fame and wealth changed people, and you were no stranger to the heavy influence they both exerted upon the music industry. Besides, it's not like your address had changed since they'd left. They could've found you whenever they wanted to.

"You never left?"

The cups rattle dangerously as you carry them to your parents' room. Your mother is sitting up in bed, staring longingly out the window. Your father must be outside, soaking up the last few rays of sunshine before the sun started to set. Gently, you set the tray down on the nightstand. "I have your medicine, Mom."

Your mother smiles, but there's a fragile kind of sadness to it. "When were you going to tell us?"

Heavy resignation falls over you as you sigh, shoulders slumping. "I didn't want to worry you and Dad while you were away at the hospital. It wasn't that big of a deal-"

Your mother cuts you off, eyes firm but gentle. "Dear, please. I saw how happy you were when all three of you were together, and how devastated you were when they left. I just..." She hesitates before continuing. "I don't want you to live your life with regrets. Especially because of your father and I. You deserve to be happy too."

"I am happy," you protest fiercely, but she shakes her head. "You had such lofty dreams. And now, your father and I are the ones holding you back. Life is too short to have regrets like yours at such a young age."

"It just hurt so badly," you whisper, as you take a seat at the end of the bed. Your mother reaches over to intertwine her fingers with yours.

"I know, dear. But which is greater; the love for the things they did do, or the pain for all the things they didn't?"

Your mother's words ring through your ears as you blearily stare into your coffee cup. While the insurance helped, there were still bills to pay, and food to put on the table. You'd stayed up all night finishing work for your remote office job, before taking the short bus ride to the cafe you worked at during the day. The world spins briefly. You would kill for a good night's sleep.

The door chimes and grimacing, you down the rest of your coffee, before pasting a cheery smile onto your face.

"Welcome, how may I help..."

Sator- Gojo stares at you from the other end of the counter. Even with the cheap medical mask he's wearing, the blue eyes and white hair are enough to have your coworkers whispering behind you.

"...you," you finish lamely, immediately looking down at cash register. Why was he here? Especially in the town over? More importantly, why hadn't he gone back to Asia yet? Cursing, you study the bills lined up neatly in the till. Gojo says your name, softly, and the whispers behind you intensify.

"That's me!" you chirp, forcing yourself to point at your nametag. The tips were nice here, and you couldn't afford to find a new job. The pitying stares from everyone back in your hometown was already suffocating enough; gaining the attention from Gojo's rabid fangirls would probably push you over the edge. "Is there anything in particular that you like? Our customers really love the caramel crunch latte."

There's a tone to his voice that you can't place when he finally speaks. "Yeah, I'll take one of those. Extra sweet. Do you happen to have any tea here?"

The words slip out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. "Unfortunately, we only have one drink that features black tea."

Fuck.

You can feel Gojo's gaze, searing into your face as you stubbornly continue to stare at the counter. "Sure, I'll take one of those."

Numbly, you recite the total to him. As he hands you his credit card, you can see your hand shake as you reach out to grab it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You should've forgotten everything about them when they left.

But you couldn't. You never could.

You hand his card back, but a firm hand on your wrist forces the air out of your lungs. Eyes wide, you peer up at Gojo in shock. His eyes are filled with an intensity that you've never seen before. "How much do I have to tip you in order for you to be the one to make our drinks?"

His grip is firm but not bruising, even as you try to tug your hand back. "I can assure you, our baristas-"

"I don't care," he interrupts. "I want you to do it. You're the only one who can do it." The final part of his statement is so soft that you barely catch it. "It's only ever been you."

You have the horrible feeling that the two of you are no longer talking about extra sweet lattes and London Fogs. The whispers are getting so loud now that you yank your hand back and give him a strained smile. "I suppose I can." At this point, you'll do anything to stop talking with him.

As you busy yourself around the cafe, you hate how easy it is to make the two drinks. Extra caramel; Satoru always loved when his coffee was practically infused with it. You grab the filtered water, running it through a filter several more times. Suguru always insisted tea tasted better the more filtered the water was. You heat the water as you crush up small caramel candies. Satoru enjoyed when his drinks had a little something he could chew on. The tea was steeped for five minutes, exactly. You added lavender and vanilla syrup. When Suguru had made you try a London Fog for the first time in ninth grade, you'd teased him for the "oddly pretentious taste." A splash of milk. An extra large heaping of whipped cream.

Wiping your hands on your apron, you can feel the pain in your heart form the salt of your tears. "Lizzie," you call out. "Can you deliver this to the customer? I'm going on my ten minute." Not waiting for a response, you dash into the bathroom, barely slamming the door behind you as you let the first of your tears fall.

"Toru! Toru!"

"What?" he snaps. Undeterred, you rush up to him, bright pink lunchbox clutched in one hand. "Sugu said you forgot your lunch at home, but it's okay! We pooled our allowance together, so Sugu's in line for the cafeteria right now"

A rush of warmth fills his chest. "You shouldn't have," he protests, but you wave it away. "Mama always says that food is meant to be shared, especially with people you love! And it wouldn't feel right eating without you."

The school onigiri had never tasted good, but that day, Satoru had savored every bite.

Satoru stares at the teenager who'd called his name, wringing her apron nervously, before taking the offered cups. "Thank you." Where had you gone?

"Can I get your autograph?" she blurts out, and Satoru winces. His cover had been completely blown. Suguru's not going to be pleased, he thinks wryly. Yet as he dutifully signs his name on the provided paper, his mind wanders to you. Your hands had been shaking. Were you cold? Tired? Or was it his fault? Briefly, he considers sticking around, before quickly dismissing that idea. You clearly wanted to avoid being associated with him, and although the thought makes his stomach twist, he understands it as much as he hates it.

The walk back to the hotel is short. Satoru's mind is a mess. The bags under your eyes rivalled Shoko's. Were you taking care of yourself? You seemed thinner, too. The sick feeling inside him only grows, festering into something ugly. He dutifully ignores it (like he has been the past five years) and takes a sip of the latte you made, freezing.

Every time all four of you had gone over to your house after school, you'd always insisted on making snacks for the three of them. The coffee tastes like sunny afternoons, and bright laughter, of your voice teasing Satoru for the sheer amount of sugar you'd have to put in his drinks. Caramel seeps into his system, and unbidden, he thinks of your eyes, watching him with a hint of apprehension and exhaustion.

When had it gone so wrong?

Suguru is lounging on the couch as he enters. "What took you so long?" Suguru grumbles, reaching for the other cup. It takes Satoru a moment to respond.

"She was working at the cafe."

"Is that so?" Suguru murmurs, taking a sip of his own drink. Immediately, he tenses, eyes stunned. "Did she-"

"Yeah."

"It tastes kind of like-"

"I know."

The two lapse into silence. You'd had so much love to give that it had practically overflowed. Food was just one aspect of it. Some days, you'd even give up parts of your lunch, insisting that Satoru or Suguru take a bite. He thinks of the way you'd hold him, the way you'd leave him encouraging notes in his locker, how you'd save up allowance to buy small things that reminded you of them. How you'd keep extra hair ties on your wrist for Suguru, and how you'd always keep a plastic water bottle in your bag for Shoko. How many times had they taken it for granted, taken you for granted?

"She looked so exhausted, Sugu. She's got these real dark bags under her eyes, like she hadn't slept in a while. Her hands were shaking. Her eyes were so dull, and so lifeless. I..." Satoru closes his eyes. "I think I would give up anything for her. Music, fame, money. I forgot what it was like, being with her. I felt alive, even though she could barely even look at me."

"I think the worst part is that she really thought we wanted to leave her behind," Suguru says, miserably. "It's all my fault, I was in such a hurry to get us out of there that I didn't say goodbye at all."

"You're not the only one to blame." Satoru's voice is sharp. "We both knew where she lived. We could've called her house phone, saved her number to our new phones from her parents."

"Will she ever forgive us?"

The way they'd heard you wailing from behind the door had torn their heart in two. They never wanted to hear you make those noises again, especially with the agonizing knowledge that it had been their fault.

"I don't know," Satoru says, truthfully. "But I can't even think about returning to music until she knows just how much we really love her."

#haerinwrites #idol!satoru gojo #rockstar!suguru geto #satosugu x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk angst #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x suguru x reader #gojo x geto x reader

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xcrust · 3 months

Text

Now in Technicolor

Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss x Reader Insert

“Tune in folks! demons and damned souls, welcome back to the sultry airwaves of Hell's very own station. I must say, dear listeners, Hell has a certain charm, doesn't it? A cacophony of screams, the crackle of flames, and the subtle whispers of secrets that linger in the shadows. It's a splendid orchestra of despair, and I am here to be your guide through the infernal playlist”

You expected the man to be insane but you didn't expect him to be so unshameful.

“So, grab a pitchfork, kick back, and let the music of the damned serenade your darkened souls! Now let's talk about my latest massacre-”

As of the moment you're not actually with him. Though him doing his broadcast that reigns in all of hell almost feels like he's still beside you all along. As your point of freedom away from your family you decided it was best to get to know hell from the very people that walked the streets.

Since he began taking you under his wing, you decided to stay with him till you find your place to settle down.

You were an early riser so the radio was not really a bother. The weird universal agreement to decide night and day here is such a fascination to you. Nevertheless being hell meant there was never a time without someone awake causing chaos. The game plan of working your way up the charts is what your dad always said while growing up, "Don't take shit from other demons”. Starting with that is to gain a more hopeful advantage in knowing the people.

“Watch this!” a really grimy voice screamed out. Looking that way you could see a few imps running around gathering people's attention.

One taller than the average imp stood with horns adorned in flickering embers, cackling with glee as he addressed his chaotic minions. "Listen up, you fiendish crap! I think it's time to start a new and take back what should be rightfully ours”

In the heart of pentagram city, the joy that you get from seeing the disaster is always so fulfilling. You may be new to these parts but boy does it give you a rush.

A sleek abyssal demon slinked through the crowd, leaving a trail of illusions in its wake. The demon could not only morph into various grotesque forms but the path that it was leaving behind was startling and amusing onlookers. As it danced between the dimensions of reality and illusion, confused demons stumbled into each other, inadvertently causing a chain reaction of minor skirmishes and squabbles. But what you didn't expect was for him to come up to you.

“They do this every week, by now it should get through their heads no one is going to listen” His voice was deep. It was such a buttery kind of smooth.

“I don't know there seems to be a crowd starting” with a smile you look up at him to see an amused look on his face.

The scene in front of you did intrigue you a lot. The bottom of the food chain in hell trying to make a voice for themselves. Their treatment is a peculiar mix of disdain and indifference. Larger demons may kick an imp out of the way without a second thought or summon them with a snap of their fingers for trivial purposes. Imps are often subjected to the capricious whims of their more powerful counterparts, enduring cruel pranks and occasional bouts of aggression.

Though you never thought that, though treated as the lowest rung of the demonic hierarchy, imps often find themselves at the mercy of their more powerful counterparts. They serve as the labor force, taking on a myriad of roles and responsibilities that range from menial tasks to dangerous assignments. Whether it's cleaning the twisted architecture of demonic structures or scurrying about as messengers delivering missives between the higher-ups, imps are ubiquitous fixtures in the daily hustle of Hell

“The pride ring is the top show in these parts and what do we get?! We get booted to the side and have to deal with the hypocrisy of these stupid standards!!” Those who spoke up before started chanting about rights for imps.

Certainly something that you would stand behind. Maybe it's a closed minded thought process but what was the point of souls from earth having more respect than the ones from here?

The heartbreaking sight was to see them run out. Demons of all kinds were starting to riot against them. In the face of adversity, the mischievous imps vowed to continue their antics, proving that even the smallest creatures could leave an indelible mark on the tumultuous canvas of Hell The Hellraisers disappear into the chaotic crowd, leaving a trail of bewildered demons and a street strewn with toppled stalls. with mayhem reigning supreme in the darkened streets.

“It's stupid and kinda sad to watch” The man stood beside you huffing out.

“Aren't you a hypocrite, you're an earthborn yourself aren't you?” the ego that these people have never stops amazing you everyday.

“Yeah… just because I'm here doesn't mean I'm set in stone as a bad person… Though looking at you, I'd guess you're like myself but you look almost a little too perfect for a human” crossing his arms he looked at you.

“That's because im-! You know who you are anyways dickbag” This guy was seriously putting you off. Comparing you to whatever those disappointments are.

“Pump the hate breaks… I'm Walter by the way.. Since you asked." The cadence of his voice was so politician based that it could lead you to go insane.

As the chaos unfolded around you, Walter's nonchalant demeanor seemed to contrast sharply with the tumultuous scene. The imps' attempts to rally for their rights had escalated into a full-blown street brawl, with demons of varying sizes and shapes joining the fray. The air resonated with shouts, roars, and the occasional yelp from an imp caught in the crossfire.

"Quite the spectacle they're putting on, isn't it?" Walter questions raising an eyebrow

You observed the chaos with a mix of fascination and concern. The imps were outnumbered and outmatched, yet their resilience and determination to stand up against the status quo intrigued you.

"Yeah, it is," you replied, eyes still fixed on the scene. "Seems like they're fed up with being pushed around."

Walter chuckled, a dry sound that echoed through the cacophony. "Oh, they've been trying to make a statement for ages. It's almost cute."

"Cute?" You shot him a disapproving look. "They're fighting for their rights. It's not cute; it's necessary."

Walter's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he shrugged, unimpressed. "Necessary, maybe. But in Hell, it's a matter of survival. Those little imps are just making noise in a world that won't listen."

The riot continued to escalate, with fiery projectiles, illusions, and general pandemonium swirling around. Amidst the chaos, a trio of larger demons emerged, their expressions twisted into malicious grins.

"Looks like the big guns are stepping in. This is where it gets interesting." you said while stepping back to not get caught in the crossfire. Values and morals aside, sometimes seeing stuff play out is widely more interesting than anything else. Fuck you sounded sadistic.

The trio of demons seemed to relish the opportunity to quash the imp uprising. With a wave of their hands, they conjured dark energy, sending shockwaves through the crowd of imps. You could see the smaller demons being tossed aside like ragdolls, their attempts at resistance quickly crushed.

You felt a surge of empathy for the imps, caught in a cycle of oppression and rebellion. However, Walter's detached demeanor left you conflicted. Was he merely observing the chaos, or did he revel in the anarchy that unfolded before him?

Leaning into you his dark haze felt almost suffocating. "Well, darling, what do you think? Will the imps triumph or become another forgotten footnote in Hell's sordid history?"

The question lingered in the air, emphasizing the harsh reality of Hell's hierarchy. The imps' plight seemed both desperate and valiant, a stark reminder that even in Hell, some fought for a semblance of dignity and recognition.

“Whatever, if this is just a game to you, I hope your luck runs out” you remark before heading out of the city center. Being around him made you miss the annoying voice of alastor.

Walking away from him was the easiest thing that you could do. His attempt to engage you in conversation, using terms like "darling" with a sly smile, only added to your growing irritation. It felt like he was mocking not only the imps but also your own principles and values.

The crimson glow of dawn began to seep through the curtains of Alastor's luxurious suite of his radio booth, signaling the end of another night's radio broadcast. The room, adorned with vintage furnishings and an air of refined chaos, bore witness to the aftermath of Alastor's nocturnal endeavors.

reclined in an opulent armchair, a contented smirk playing on his lips. The room still echoed with the faint whispers of his charismatic voice, which had reached every corner of Hell during the broadcast. The radio equipment, adorned with dials and adorned in a distinct retro aesthetic, hummed softly, now temporarily dormant.

Alastor found his thoughts occasionally drifting to the enigmatic (Y/n). a peculiar newcomer to Hell or at least to what he thinks. had managed to capture the attention of the radio demon in a way that he couldn't quite dismiss. The glimmers of defiance in (Y/n)'s gaze during their encounters had not gone unnoticed. Alastor, who revealed in the unexpected and the unconventional, found a peculiar satisfaction in the mystery that surrounded them. In Hell, where familiarity often bred contempt, the unknown was a rare and exhilarating novelty.

As the first rays of dawn bathed the room in a warm glow, Alastor's posture shifted. He rose from the chair, his movements graceful and deliberate. Despite the seemingly chaotic nature of his radio persona, there was an undeniable elegance to his every action.

Alastor pondered the significance of this newcomer's journey through the infernal landscape. Why could he feel such raw power? Though why is it that he is reminded of himself when thinking about them.

Walking over to a nearby table, Alastor poured himself a cup of tea. The delicate porcelain clinked softly against the saucer as he sipped the hot beverage. The tranquility of the moment contrasted with the lively chaos he had orchestrated just hours ago.

Thinking back to last night, With a casual flick of his wrist, when he summoned ethereal tendrils that danced like shadows in the night. These spectral appendages slithered through the air, reaching out to the trembling souls and ensnaring them in a web of malevolent energy. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp under his influence, distorting the surroundings into a nightmarish landscape.

Alastor's mind, ever calculating, reflected on the success of the night's broadcast. The intertwining melodies of jazz and hellish commentary had woven a tapestry of entertainment, capturing the attention of listeners from the lowliest imps to the loftiest demons. The echoes of laughter and applause lingered in his mind like a symphony of souls.

As the jazz tunes from a nearby record player filled the air, Alastor reclined in his chair, a sly grin playing on his lips. The prospect of weaving the reader into the ongoing narrative of Hell sparked a mischievous glint in his eyes. (Y/n), in their apparent defiance of the expected norms, had become a wild card in the devil's deck of amusement.

Getting up to Leisurely strolling through the lavish suite, Alastor glanced at a vintage record player. He selected a vinyl record, the soothing crackle of the needle finding its groove as the melodic tunes of an old jazz number filled the room. The music, a stark departure from the energetic chaos of his radio show, created an ambiance of refined tranquility.

From below his window he sees these peculiar picture shows from down below.

"My, my, attempting to disturb the delicate balance of my little corner of Hell? How utterly quaint.”

“Hey! I'm back! Damn, is it a lively scene out there,” you call out as you stride into your shared living space.

Alastor, reclining on a vintage armchair, smirks in response. "Ah, my dear (Y/n), chaos is the very essence of this delightful realm. One must learn to appreciate the symphony of suffering that plays around us."

"Yeah, well, it's just something that I'll make work in my hand,” you reply, taking a moment to glance around the eclectic decor of your hellish abode.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Alastor stands up abruptly. "I know you just got back, but we are going out!" His enthusiasm is palpable, and you can tell he has something interesting in mind.

“Wait, I think I had my share—” you try to speak out before being abruptly grabbed by the arm.

“Come on, my dear!” In a flash, you find yourself whisked out of the apartment, leaving behind the familiar surroundings for whatever adventure Alastor has in store.

"Alastor, where are we even going?" you asked, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. His usual grin widened, revealing a hint of mischief.

"Patience, my dear (Y/n). I have something intriguing to show you," Alastor replied, his voice carrying an air of secrecy.

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "I thought it would be delightful to pay a visit to our esteemed TV demon. After all, shouldn't we take a look at all kinds of media?"

Before you could voice your reservations, Alastor pushed open the doors of the Vox Network headquarters, leading you into the opulent reception area. The robotic sentinels stood guard, and Vox's voice echoed through the room.

"Ah, Alastor! A pleasure to have you in the building! , What a delightful surprise," a booming voice echoed from the center of the room. Vox, the flamboyant TV demon, materialized in a cloud of static. His slick, metallic appearance glowed in an array of colors, and his screen-like face displayed a perpetually changing expression. his screen displaying a charismatic smile.

Vox extended a hand towards Alastor. the radio demon simply walked past to which earned a small glitch seen at the corner of his screen.

“Seems you've brought a pet?” The fact that no one knew who you were was starting to get on your nerves. Calling you a pet? Well that's something that will make you riot.

In the face of Vox's condescending remark, you felt a spark of irritation flicker within you. Alastor's dismissal of the TV demon's extended hand had left a peculiar glitch on Vox's screen, a subtle indication that the flamboyant host wasn't accustomed to being ignored.

"No one's anyone's pet," you retorted, asserting yourself in the opulent reception area. The robotic sentinels glanced in your direction, their mechanical eyes narrowing as if registering an unexpected anomaly.

Vox's screen shifted to an intrigued expression, the colors dancing in an erratic display. "Ah, a voice from the shadows! I must confess, I wasn't aware we had a new player in this delightful game."

Alastor, leaning against a holographic display, observed the unfolding interaction with a glint of amusement in his eyes. "She's no pet, Vox. Just someone with a taste for chaos and curiosity about your little empire."

Vox chuckled, the sound reverberating through the sleek surroundings. "Chaos and curiosity, my favorite combination! How intriguing! So, (Y/n), what brings you into our glamorous world today?"

You crossed your arms, a defiant gleam in your eyes. "I'm not here to be entertained or become anyone's spectacle if thats what youre thinking.”

Alastor stepped in “We just thought we'd see what all the fuss is about."

Vox's screen displayed a mix of amusement and curiosity. "A renegade spirit, I like it! But you're in the presence of yours truly and We don't do small things here. Let's skip the foreplay and get into it. How about a little deal? I'll make you an offer you can't refuse."

You eyed Vox skeptically, wary of the gleam in his screen. Alastor, seemingly unfazed, glanced at you with a sly grin. "Go on, (Y/n), entertain his offer. He has no power or specialty. We might find something amusing in his little game."

“Ok first fuck you alastor and no way in the seven rings would I join you I wouldnt join anyone” The prospect of dealing with Vox made your skin crawl, but the allure of navigating Hell's media empire intrigued you.

Vox's screen flickered with a mix of surprise and subtle annoyance as you firmly rejected his proposition. The colors on his metallic visage swirled in a display of shifting hues, mirroring the complex emotions running through the TV demon's circuits.

"Well, well, aren't you a feisty one, Are you sure about not joining anyone? You seem like a loyal dog to that freak" Vox mused

Your resolve remains unshaken, and you meet Vox's screen with a defiant gaze. "I don't need your offers, Vox. I'll find my own way through Hell's chaos."

Vox's laughter echoed through the opulent reception area, a mix of genuine amusement and an underlying sense of challenge. "Very well, (Y/n). Should you change your mind or seek a taste of the limelight, you know where to find me.”

What a bitch… At this point you were at your limit so you walked out to the side of the room to not entertain this conversation. The fucking nerve of these people. Even Alastor was being a little bit of a shit at the moment.

“There's a certain allure to the unknown, wouldn't you say?" Vox pondered aloud, his screen displaying a charismatic smile.

Alastor, still leaning against the holographic display, turned to you with a smirk. "Well done, my dear.”

Alastor's antlers grew as he stood before Vox, his crimson eyes piercing

"Ah, Vox, my dear fellow," Alastor began, his voice carrying a melodic tone laced with a subtle threat. "I hope you enjoyed the rejection dance my little friend here performed. Now, let's get one thing clear – I don't dance to anyone's tune, especially not yours. You might be the new shiny toy right now but people always come back to the original"

Vox's screen glitched momentarily, revealing a flicker of irritation.

"What's the meaning of this, Alastor?" Vox demanded, his voice losing some of its usual charisma and taking on a sharper edge. "You come here and start bitching at me about not joining me?! We've already established that”

“You underestimate the consequences of refusing me, Alastor," Vox hissed, his voice losing its previous charm entirely. "This will be my realm to control, and those who reject my advances often find themselves in a far less favorable position."

Alastor chuckled, the sound echoing in the extravagant reception area. "Consequences, Vox? I've faced worse in my time. Your attempts to control the narrative may work on the masses, but not on someone who knows the art of chaos."

As Alastor turned to leave, Vox seethed with frustration. The TV demon couldn't fathom being denied, and Alastor's rejection left a lingering tension in the air. Vox's screen displayed an animated storm of chaotic colors.

A surge of annoyance swept over you. Alastor's encouragement of Vox and his apparent amusement at the situation grated on the reader's nerves. The reader couldn't fathom why he enabled the TV demon's actions especially considering the TV demon's manipulative and self-serving nature. To make matters worse it really felt like he was making fun of you.

“Fuck off Alastor”

"(Y/n), this is Hell, and power here is earned through deals and influence. If you want to make your mark, you have to start making deals," Alastor advised in a tone that was both casual and instructional. His words resonated with a hint of amusement, as if he relished the idea of the reader navigating the treacherous landscape of Hell.

“I'm not some social experiment, why are you still here?” however, was taken aback by Alastor's nonchalant attitude toward the situation. The idea of making deals in exchange for souls seemed like a slippery slope, and the reader wasn't sure if they were ready to embrace such a cutthroat approach

“Embrace it, and you'll see just how intoxicating the taste of power can be." he replied

If they were to survive and thrive in Hell, understanding the art of making deals was a necessary skill. With a determined nod, they acknowledged Alastor's guidance.

"Alright, Alastor. Teach me the ropes. I might as well learn how to play this game if I'm going to survive in Hell," the reader conceded, a resolute glint in their eyes.

“Im staying with you, but if you even think about being an ass while other people are around you're going to be counting your last minutes”

“Doll, if you can barely stand up for yourself, I don't think I have anything to worry about,” he laughed out.

He's seriously pushing your buttons right now.

“As an overlord, you have dominion over a specific territory or domain within Hell. This grants you considerable authority and control over the demons and souls, you want that right? Power?” he asked.

All of a sudden you heard a loud bash of commotion coming from a group of demons that appeared to be fighting.

Pushing through the crowd, they discovered a group of demons surrounding none other than Walter.

One of the larger demons, a hulking figure with horns resembling twisted spires, look with disdain. "This fool thinks he can waltz into our territory and act like he owns the place."

Walter, bloodied but defiant, attempted to maintain his composure. "Now, now, gentlemen, there's no need for such hostility. Let's talk this out civilly."

The demons surrounding Walter scoffed at his attempts at diplomacy, clearly unimpressed. The reader couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance at Walter's earlier arrogance.

"Perhaps, my dear (Y/n), we should let this play out. It's always entertaining to witness the ebb and flow of power dynamics in Hell," Alastor mused, his eyes glinting with a sinister delight.

"Come on! Do something about this!!, you can't just stand there and watch!" Walter's voice cracked with a mixture of pain and panic as he pleaded for help.

"My, my, Walter, seems like you've landed yourself in quite a bind. Who would have thought our charismatic friend would face such a predicament?" you said out loud

“please! I'm not cut out for this kind of roughing up!" Walter's words were desperate, his eyes pleading for intervention. The demons surrounding him laughed, reveling in his vulnerability

“Oh please you were such a bigshot earlier, get yourself out of this mess”

ignoring the demons' taunts, you whispered out a proposal which the smoked and leaned in closer to Walter and whispered the terms of the deal. The specifics echoed in the demonic air, forming an unspoken pact that hung heavy in the atmosphere.

"Deal," Walter agreed, relief washing over him as the terms were settled. The demons, though momentarily confused, soon found themselves turned to dust.

Alastor observed the scene with a raised brow, intrigued by the sudden turn of events. The reader's willingness to strike a deal for Walter's soul added a new layer of complexity

Looking back up to him and smiled, “is this what you wanted?”

As Alastor continued to observe the chaotic scene unfolding before him, a smirk played on his lips. The demons surrounding Walter, still reveling in the prospect of his impending downfall, were oblivious to the subtle yet profound shift in the power dynamics.

"Well, well, it seems you've decided to make a deal. How delightful!" Alastor chuckled, his eyes gleaming with amusement. The atmosphere shifted, charged with an unspoken agreement between you and Walter.

“Now, now, gentlemen, let's not keep our eager audience waiting. After all, this is shaping up to be quite the dramatic performance,” Alastor commented looking at the rest of the demons that just fell dead, staring at the corpses with a dark amusement lacing his words. He leaned casually against a nearby demonic structure, his radio-like grin widening.

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volturissideslut · 5 months

Note

Hi! Just read your Marcus x reader fic where they get compared to Didyme.

I was thinking maybe a Poly! Volturi comparing Reader to their ex/late partners and Reader shuts down. They don't mention it, but it really hurts cause they've always been a replacement, so they leave Volterra. The Volturi don't realise for a while.

Feel free to ignore this if it's too repetitive or you've done one like it before.

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 (𝖕𝖔𝖑𝖞)

Angst, no comfort. Pure angst, literally no fluff at ALL. Bad relationship, couple of swear words in there, let me know if you want a part two of making it up <3

It's not like you were the second choice

They had been adament that they wanted you, that you were their true mate

So why were they acting like this now?

After almost a year of being together, they were starting to fall out of the 'honeymoon phase'

Had it always just been a phase? Was this doomed from the get-go?

It started with little snippy comments about acting proper. You were human, not raised in the fine luxury and manners they were, and apparently that showed in your actions. And apparently the way you dress too.

It's like they were moulding you into their exes, it it was making you miserable

And it's not like you didn't try to tell them, you did. Only to be shut down. "Cara mia, I'm working. This is not an appropriate place to discuss this" Aro told you, despite being within the privacy of his study

Caius was no better, in no mood to 'entertain you' and your 'whims' as he put it, brushing you off with a sigh

Marcus, too, was no use, disregarding the emotion and making it perhaps worse by saying that didyme would have taken of the constructive criticism

So there you stood, looking at yourself in the mirror. The big dress, the light makeup, the haircut, even the fucking posture just want you.

And so you left.

Silently, seeing as communicating clearly wasn't an option

How long had it been when they realised you were gone? Three days at least

Honestly, Aro had assumed you were annoyed with them and wanted space, telling his brothers suck. It had never crossed his mind that you had left

I mean, the clothes you wore every day were still there, all the gowns and dresses still in place and -

Where were the clothes you brought with you?

The ones they insisted you wouldn't wear?

Caius walkers into your personal room with a huff, intending to talk some sense into this tantrum you've been throwing, and instead intruding on Aro's realisation

The grounds are searched and Mar3is informed

It is pure and utter panic

Chaos as they look for you

Demetri was called back from his mission early to search for you and you were in another country

Marcus was practically having heart palpitations, he can't lose another mate. "Why would she do this, Didyme would never scare me like this"

And he pauses

So does Aro

And so does Caius

And for the first time, they truly hear themselves

Caius is the first one to remember you bringing it up. "Did she talk to you about it too..." the proud kings' voice is for once delicate and quiet

"... I made her leave" Aro practically folds in half, having to grip over where his hear would be in his chest and lean over because of the burning sensation. It aches, it physically aches him to know he messed up this badly - he didn't give you the time of day

"... I told her I don't have time for this" Caius' fist is buried in his hair, gripping in stress and nearly ripping the strands out of his head. His hands are jittery, shaking, and his hair is tussled - a perfect relection of his inner turmoil

"... In the very moment she asked me not to compare her to Didyme anymore, I told her Didyme would take the criticism" is it possible for vampires to be sick? Because I think Marcus is about to be. His eyes sting and he makes a gagged choking noise like he's dry heaving. Like his fight or flight has chosen freeze and the rising anxiety makes his stomach churn

A knock on the door is what pulls them away

Instead of coming to the turbulent kings and taking them with him, it seems Demetri picked you up on his way back instead and brought you right to them.

There are bags under your eyes, and your skin is sickly. Your cheeks are stained with dried up tears and your eyes are bloodshot like you cried so hard you broke a vessel

They rush toward you and Demetri takes that as his cue to leave

Marcus ever so gently holds your face, eyes scanning you for any physical harm, and when he finds none he feels so much temporary relief he almost collapses into himself. "Thank goodness you're okay, I couldn't bare to lose you-"

"what, like you did Didyme?" you spit back with more venom in your voice than their combined fangs have ever produced in their millennias of life

"No, no" Caius' voice has never been so gentle, he takes your hand in his and places a kiss to the inside of your wrist

"Oh, so I'm gone for three days and suddenly it's about me and not your exes?" there is spite in your voice, but it still wavers with how upset you are

Exclaiming "three days?!" was a big mistake on Aro's part, but in that moment he was so full of concern he hadn't realised it would only worsen the situation

"... You didn't know?" and the look on your face is absolutely heart shattering

And they have no words, nothing to say. Because there is no words, and there are no excuses.

"I was gone for three days, and you didn't care enough to notice?!?" your angry now. And you have every right to be. But they have no idea how to fix what they've done

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sometimesanalice · 5 months

Text

Wildest Dreams (Part 2)

Summary: After meeting Bradley during Fleet Week, he shows you whether he is more of an officer or a gentleman in the bedroom. And while you haven’t been able to stop thinking about that night, you also hope he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, and Bradley in Summer Whites (minors dni)

(Author’s note: this was written as part of @laracrofted’s 1989(TV) Challenge! This a 2 Part series.)

You don’t remember finding your keys in your clutch.

Or the elevator ride up to your floor.

Or the winding hallway to reach your apartment.

What you do remember is the way his fingers toyed with the flimsy strings of the bows tied at the nape of your neck as you searched for your keys. You remember the heat in his eyes and the way they trailed over every inch of you as the too small lift climbed to your floor. You remember his lips on your neck and the way the embossed wallpaper that lined your hallway felt against your back.

And you already know you’ll never forget what it feels like to be pressed up against your door by Bradley Bradshaw and the way your world explodes into technicolor at the easy slide of his tongue against yours.

His hands can’t seem to stay in one place very long, like he wants to commit the shape of you to memory. You grip his shirt tightly as you try to pull his body even closer to yours. He moans his approval when you rock against his thigh, the thick fabric dragging against the soft skin between your legs.

His uniform has been driving you wild all night. And for as good as he looks in it you want it off. You want him naked. You want to know if he got his callsign for the reason you think he did.

Your hands trail down his chest, down his abs on a mission. You can feel the way he tenses under your palms as they move lower, lower. There’s no hesitation in the way you grasp and stroke him with one hand as you work to unbuckle his polished belt with the other.

Rooster groans into your mouth, the brim of his hat just grazing your temple, “You didn’t have me fooled for a second, I knew you weren’t a good girl.”

The way he says it makes it sound like it’s the best compliment in the world.

You feel his smile against your lips before he moves to take advantage of your amused laugh by dipping down and licking a line up your neck in a what that had your knees threatening to give out in your tall, sparkly heels.

Rooster’s hand slips under the short hem of your shiny dress. His mouth finds a spot underneath your ear that has you gasping as his thumbs slide under the waistband of your panties. He pulls away only to work them down your legs and watch as they puddle at your feet-

“What the fuck are those?”

“U-underwear?” The word comes out a stutter the moment Bradley starts moving his big hand slowly, purposely up, up, up the inside of your thigh.

The high-cut thong was something you’d purchased on a whim. The floral embroidery on the barely-there sheer mesh contrasted with the thin silky straps of the bright pink panties that had caught your eye right before you’d gone to check out with the set you’d bought as a gift for your friend’s Bachelorette party.

You always did enjoy a theme.

You’d barely felt them all night. That is, until you’d gotten in the cab with him, and then you were almost hyperaware of them and how wet they were getting. But pooled on the floor of your entryway, they look almost indecent.

“That’s some damn dental floss and you know it,” he rasps as his fingers find your clit. You suck in a sharp breath at the contact. His hot mouth returns back to that spot under your ear, “Now I’m mad at myself for not getting to see them on you.”

Your body erupts in goosebumps at the way the coarse hairs of his mustache feel against your skin. You’re so wet that his fingers have no problem sliding and circling and gliding over that sensitive part of you.

“You want me to put them back on for you?” you offer breathily, hips tilting forward trying to seek more of his touch.

“Don’t even think about it,” he states heatedly. Like he is personally victimized by even the idea of you putting a layer back on.

And then he sinks two thick fingers into you.

“Bradley,” you gasp, your hands flying up to clutch his biceps.

“Mhmm?”

“I-” Your words are lost to a keen when he flicks a thumbnail over your clit. It’s a little mean, but it has your toes curling and tensing in the most delicious way.

His firm thigh keeps you pinned open as he works you. His lips and tongue mapping out the areas that make you squirm and pant. Your whole body seizes when he teases you with the possibility of another one of his fingers.

“You what, pretty girl?” You can feel his smirk against your neck.

Oh, fuck him. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you. You’d be more annoyed at him if he wasn’t so good at it.

“I-I,” you try again, “I had-oh god, that feels good. Your hands.”

“Hands of a pilot,” he says, satisfied and smug, “I’ll be sure to pass along your compliments to the Department of Defense.”

Rooster’s eyes are molten with pride as he takes you in, from your kiss swollen lips to where the tendons of his forearm are shifting and flexing beneath sunkissed skin half hidden under the hem of your skirt.

He is frustratingly still so put together while you’re quaking against the door like a leaf in the breeze. You want to make him just as needy for your touch as you are for his, you can feel how hard he is pressed against you.

Your hand goes for his zipper, you’re only able to tug it down half way before Bradley catches you by the wrist and pins it above your head with a tsk.

“I had plans, Rooster,” you pant, finally are able to get out the words. You’ve never had a man make you feel this good this quickly, he’s picked up on every cue your body has given him. He’s got you teetering along that edge, but he’s still toying with you rather than sending you over it.

“And what were those again?” he hums teasingly, his thumb making infuriatingly featherlight circles against you, “Remind me what was on your agenda.”

Bradley doesn’t give you the chance to reply because he’s hooking his fingertips against you and dragging them against that spot inside of you that causes your head to fall back against your door with a gasp. He shows you just how well practiced in giving pleasure he is as he does it again and again and again.

You try to arch into his touch but his strong body pressed against you so securely that you can’t do anything more than take what he gives you. The short hem of your skirt is riding dangerously high, gathered and bunched between the two of you.

“You’re not playing fair,” you whine as he runs his teeth along the tendon of your neck, “I was going to suck your cock.”

“It’s all yours, baby. You just need to come for me first. I’ll even let you wear my cap as a reward.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“Damn straight,” he says before licking deep into your waiting mouth, “Now show me you can be a good girl and come on my fingers.”

You don’t get a chance to reply because Bradley’s thumb changes up the patterns it’s making on your clit making you cry out. There’s nothing teasing about his touch, he’s playing your body to pull exactly what he wants from it. His movements are controlled and precise even as you writhe against his hand.

When you come it’s with his name in your mouth as your orgasm coasts over you in a whiskey wave. The heat and force of it radiating through your whole body from your fingertips to your toes. Bradley murmurs sweet words into your ear as shivers work their way down through your spine.

You’re still breathing hard when you flutter open your eyes just in time to see him pulling his shiny spit-slicked fingers from his mouth with a devastating smirk.

So pleased with himself, so damn handsome.

Not to be out done you kick away that hot pink thong and pull his face to yours seeking the taste of yourself from his mouth. He welcomes your tongue with a satisfied moan, his hungry hands running up your back to tug at one of the sets of ties on your dress.

“Nuh-uh,” you tut against his mouth as you push him up against your door, “It’s your turn, Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw.”

You’ve only managed to undo two of the little white buttons on his uniform, and while you’re dying to see more of his skin, the hard length of him against your stomach has your full attention.

Your knees only just skim the floor before he’s hauling you back up.

“Wait, wait. C’mere, baby,” Bradley says, his hands on your elbows, “Show me your bedroom and then I’ll let you have my cock.”

“‘Come on my fingers’, ‘show me your bedroom’,” you parrot back to him, stroking him through his pants, “You’re going to give me a complex if you don’t let me give you a blow job. I have a theory about your callsign and I need answers, Rooster.”

“You can, I promise,” he huffs a laugh, running his thumb under your bottom lip, “We’re skipping over a few things, let me be a little romantic with you before we smudge that lipstick up.”

You try to ignore the way your heart somersaults at his words and the affection in his eyes.

“It’s longwear,” you reply, with a cheeky half shrug, “But you’re certainly welcome to try.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, dipping down a bit to get an arm underneath you and picking you up like it’s nothing. Your legs wrap around his waist as he carries you from your entryway and past your kitchen towards the open door on the right where your bedroom is, the lamp on your nightstand that you’d left on before leaving for the evening guiding the way.

“How is your hat still on?” you mutter before laving at the scars on his neck that had caught your eye earlier at the bar.

“How is your tiara still on?” he tosses back, leaning his head to the side to give you more access to the skin at the base of his throat.

“It’s a headband.”

“It’s cute.”

You pull away with a grin, “I knew you wanted to try it on. Big, strong, Naval aviator has an affinity for pretty shiny things.”

“Guilty as charged,” Rooster agrees. His hands run down the sides of your waist as he sets you down, his fingers stroking the material of your sparkling pink dress. “Where do you want me, baby?”

You don’t answer him, instead you press him back lightly until he takes the hint and sits on the side of your bed, legs wide so that you can step into the space between his thighs. He makes an enticing contrast of tan skin and white uniform against the pale blue of your comforter.

Holding Bradley’s heated gaze, you take the pristine white hat off of his head and set it on the nightstand next to you. The sight of his sunkissed curls is a treat you weren’t expecting to see and you can’t help but run your hands through his hair.

You take a minute to indulge in the feeling of his soft strands between your fingers as he leans into your touch. There’s a ribbon of desire that is still wrapped around the two of you, one that pulls tighter with every pass of your hands.

“Take your cock out,” you murmur.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a wink, his voice like rich espresso.

He’d gotten his way, now it was your turn.

You lean forward to kiss him, wet and deep, before finallyfinallyfinally sinking to your knees in front of him.

Rooster is all efficient hands and fingers as he unzips those dizzyingly snug pants the rest of the way down. You swear that smirk of his gets a little wider as he pulls his cock out for you.

You’re almost annoyed at how perfect it looks, at how big it is. But that feeling fades quicker than it came on at the pretty way his large hand fists and pumps himself. It makes your breath get caught in your throat as you watch.

And then he’s holding it out for you like an offering, “This what you wanted, sweetheart?”

You don’t shy away from his intense gaze as you flatten your tongue underneath him and obscenely lick up the length of him.

“Goddamn,” he says hoarsely, as he throws his head back.

You beam, pleased and preening, before you pull him fully into your mouth. That smirk is entirely wiped off his face and you can see the way his jaw is clenching and releasing as his face is angled up towards the ceiling. Your hand replaces his on his cock to stroke him in time with the bob of your head. He groans low and ragged at the twist of your wrist at the base of him as you swirl your tongue right underneath the firm ridge of his head.

You feel your Bridesmaid headband slide back on your head with all your enthusiastic movements, and it falls to the floor with a metallic clatter. You wait until he’s looking back at you before you hollow your cheeks as you draw his cock further into your mouth.

“Knew that smart mouth of yours was going to look so good around my cock. God, you’re so fucking pretty,” he says, running his thumb along your jaw, “That little pink dress of yours did a number on me, I couldn’t stop looking at you.”

Bradley’s pretty praise and compliments goes straight to your head, like a rush of bubbles from a freshly popped bottle of champagne. You like the way he is gazing at you- his eyelids heavy but his eyes greedy- and the way he looks sitting on your bed, his presence filling the space of your room.

“If you like it so much I can tell you where I got it from,” you tease, “Don’t think they’d have your size though.” You treat him with another long lick, taking a moment to catch your breath to work him in your hand. It slides easily over him with the mix of your spit and his pre-cum.

“We both know how much I like pretty shiny things. I like seeing them on pretty girls, but I think I like seeing them on the floor even more.”

Rooster reaches out to slide his hand up the valley of your breasts and up around your neck to the back of your dress where the duo of bows of the halter top are still tied and starts tug on the ends of them.

You run your fingernail gently along the underside of his cock, smirking to yourself when it jerks in your hand. You take the tip of him between your lips, flicking him with your tongue as you let him work on the bows.

“Jesus, what kind of knots did you tie on this thing,” he grunts, still pulling on the thin pink strings.

“I thought you Navy men were supposed to be excellent with knots,” you say with a laugh, moving your hair aside so that he can see better.

“I fly planes that land on ships, the only knots I’m tying are the ones on my boots.”

“Well now, that’s a shame,” you say with a sigh, blinking up at him with your best doe eyes. You give him a couple more slow pumps and watch with pleasure as his eyes flare with heat as he catches on to your meaning.

The way he moans your name sounds like both a curse and a prayer.

You pull away from him and sit back on your knees reaching up behind your neck. He watches you with rapt attention as you untie one and then the other. You hold it up with one hand at your collarbone and run the fingers of your other hand over the swells of your breasts before sliding it behind your back to release the final bow dancing along your mid-back.

And then you let go of the top.

It flutters down to your waist and you’re bared before him.

“Fuck me, knew you couldn’t be wearing a bra with that sexy little dress,” he groans as you pull him back into your mouth.

His fingers fly to your hair as you work to take him further and further into your mouth. It’s impossible to look away or close your eyes when his heady gaze is trained on you so intensely. He goes slack-jawed as you swallow around him, humming your approval to his reaction around his cock.

It’s easy to lose yourself to the rhythm of it. Of the staccato of his breath and sounds of satisfaction coming from in his broad chest. Of the weight of his cock pressed against your tongue.

Bradley’s thigh is taut and tense under your other hand with the strain of holding himself back. You are almost tempted to tell him to use your mouth how he wants, but there is something so exciting about having this man wrapped around your finger and at your mercy. He’s looking at you with such open want in his eyes that it makes that place low in your stomach spark with desire.

You pull off of him to drop a few open mouth kisses to the length of him. You look up at him from under your eyelashes, making sure you have his full attention when you use your tongue to trace along the thick vein on his shaft.

“How’s my lipstick holding up, Rooster?”

He barks a laugh, his smile wide and broad with amusement, “Hasn’t budged. Guess I’ll have to work harder to make a mess out of you then, huh?”

“I guess you will.” You shift forward like you mean to brush a kiss to his lips, but pull away with a mischievous smile right before his lips could meet yours. He groans and leans forward chasing after your mouth.

“C’mere, pretty girl,” Bradley says, hauling you up off of the cream-colored carpet of your floor. He hastily shoves your dress down the rest of the way down your hips and onto the floor before pulling you into his lap.

“But-” The words die in your throat as you whimper at the contact of your soaked cunt as it rubs up against his thick cock. Rooster runs his nose along the line of your neck as your hands tangle in his curls. He squeezes your ass with his hands encouraging you to continue your rock and grind against him.

When you tug him back up to your mouth, he goes willingly with a self-satisfied smile. You keen when your nipples catch against his nametag and the ribbons decorating his chest and you’re reminded that he’s not nearly naked enough for your liking.

“Why are you still dressed?” you huff, your insatiable hands roughly pulling at the buttons of his shirt, “If you were as interested in furthering those civilian-military relations as you claimed to be earlier, Sailor, you’d take that uniform off.”

“My apologies, ma’am,” he drawls, not sounding the least bit sorry, “Please allow me to show you just how committed I am to cultivating strong bonds with the local community at hand.”

And in a move so smooth and powerful, Bradley’s got you pinned to the bed. It doesn’t even register to you until he’s crowding into you, his head dipping down to drag his teeth over your peaked nipple. His large hand comes up to cup and massage your other one as he laves over you in broad and long strokes of his tongue.

He rolls against you teasingly and the way your thighs come up to bracket his hips is almost instinctive as you sink further into the cloud of your bed under his sturdy weight.

That mustache feels even better against your chest as it did against your neck when he had you pressed against your front door. But the drag of those damn buttons is impossible to ignore even as his hot mouth works its way down your sternum and stomach.

“Bradley.”

“Yeah, baby?” He nips at your hipbone as he strong-arms your thighs open further for his wide shoulders to settle under.

You’re so tired of feeling that sure-to-be-well-made fabric under your hands and against your body. You want to feel his skin against yours. You want his heat. You want to smell like the cedar and spearmint scent of his cologne.

He’s been derailing your plans since the moment you saw him enter the bar, but in this you will not be swayed, “If you’re not naked in the next ninety seconds, I swear I’m going to kick you out.”

“I can work with ninety,” he says with a toe curling glint in his eyes right before he licks into you.

The coarse hairs of his mustache against that most intimate part of you has you seeing not only stars, but entire galaxies. He slides his hand under your back to get you to arch further towards him. His tongue is relentless against your needy clit and when he sucks it has your hips canting right into his charming mouth.

“Can’t keep those hips on the bed, can you? Keep tryin’ to chase my mouth,” he smirks at your frustrated whine when he pulls away from you all too soon. He’s all lithe grace as he moves and stands up at the end of your bed.

You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. There’s no reason to be when he shoots you a wink so easy and playful and so endearingly cocky that you think you might just melt on the spot.

“Tick-tock, Lieutenant,” you say breathily as you sit up and lean back on your elbows.

“Now you’re just being difficult on purpose. That ok, baby, I think you’ll enjoy it when I fuck that attitude right out of you.”

“Promises, promises.”

You already know that lazy smile he’s wearing is going to take you down as he starts to undo the buttons of his uniform. He’s definitely past the ninety seconds you’d threatened him with, but there’s no way in hell you’re going to kick him out now.

Rooster does it slowly. One by one until he is shrugging it off his frame. He looks like sin standing there tall and broad with his belt dangling open and his cock hanging out proudly from the open fly of his formfitting pants.

“Oh, this is getting good now,” you muse, not unaffected by the increasingly unclothed man in front of you.

Feeling brave you bring your fingers down to your clit, teasing yourself lightly as he pulls his thin undershirt up and over his head. And finally, you get to see all of that bronzed skin on display. The sight of the smattering of chest hair between his full pecs and the ridges of his abs in the soft light of your nightstand lamp has your mouth watering at the sight in front of you.

“That’s it,” Bradley says lowly, his eyes glued to the shiny, slick part of you, “Show me how you like to touch yourself.”

You let your legs fall open wider for his gaze as you continue to touch yourself. Your heart hammers against your chest as you put yourself on display for him. As you show off for him. With every passing second your need for him ratchets up even higher. He gives himself a few pumps, his cock still shiny and wet from your mouth and pussy, before he’s shoving his pants down his thick thighs and kicking them off.

He works his way back up your bed and props himself against your tufted headboard and pulls you back into his lap. You sigh as you lean into him, your bare skin against his. At last. He feeds you his tongue as he tips up your head for a fevered kiss, his hands skimming up the length of your spine and into your hair as he commands your mouth with his.

“What’s it going to be, sweetheart?” he murmurs against your lips, “Do you want to be fucked by an officer? Or do you want me to be sweet with you? I’ll show you just how much of a gentleman I can be.”

A shiver works its way through your body and you feel the way his lips pull up at your response to his raspy voice and the sultry promise laced in his words. The night has been building up to this, the feeling of his hands in your hair and having his clothes on the floor in your room shouldn’t feel so right. But it does.

And if you’re only going to have this one night with him, you already know what you want. You knew it from the second he kissed you back at the bar.

You pull back just enough to lean over him to grab his hat off your nightstand. His hands flex on your hips when you set it on your own head. It’s heavier than you’d thought it would be and it tilts down your forehead a bit. Rooster tips it up for you and adjusts it, his eyes seeking an answer you have yet to give him.

“I want to be fucked by an officer, Lieutenant Commander,” you say, running your thumb down the divot of his chin.

You’ve never felt more powerful than you do at the sound of his wrecked groan.

“Grab that condom, baby,” Bradley’s voice is thick with need.

“Yes, sir,” you say cheekily, pulling open the drawer next to the bed.

You aren’t expecting the hand that connects with your ass or the sound of the sharp slap that seems to reverberate throughout your bedroom or the way it makes you even wetter than you already are.

The tequila and champagne from earlier wore off long ago, now you’re just drunk on him.

You pass him one of the gold foiled squares and watch as he rolls it on with ease as you hover above him on your knees. He’s got you so spun up in such a short amount of time, you’d know from the moment you saw him that he was trouble, you just didn’t realize at the time that he was going to be your kind of trouble.

He holds his cock in one hand and guides you onto it with his other hand heavy on your hip. You expect him to rock up into you, to give you both that air stealing bliss, instead your jaw drops open at the way he’s coaching you to sink onto him slowly, slowly, so so slowly.

It’s been awhile since you’ve taken something other than your fingers or one of the toys discreetly hidden in your bedside drawer and he has you whimpering as you stretch and spread around him. You can feel his want in every devastating touch, in every heated kiss. You cling to his shoulders to keep you from floating away.

“There we go. Nice and easy,” Rooster murmurs, watching the way his cock disappears into you, “Felt how tight you were around my fingers. I know ‘m big. You’re doing so good for me.”

He’s got a hand wrapped around the base of your neck and around your waist holding you there when your hips finally connect, keeping you from squirming as your body works to relax around him. Your pussy flutters around him at the sheer size of him.

You gasp in surprise as a shiver of an orgasm flurries through you unexpectedly.

“Goddamn,” he grunts, you can hear the relief in his voice as he continues to rock up into you gently pulling out more of those ripples from you.

He’s still holding you in place, controlling just how much of him you’re getting, his fingers are pressed tightly into your hipbones. His hair is a mess and his eyes are hungry. Bradley is flushed the prettiest shade of pink along his cheekbones and across his chest.

You’re about to tell him so when your eyes snag on a patch of scarred skin on his shoulder and you suddenly must know what it feels like under your tongue.

The second your seeking tongue glides over it Rooster’s hips jerk into you in a way that steals all the air from your lungs. You wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck as he does it again and again in smooth, measured strokes.

But it’s not enough. That whisper of an orgasm was nothing like you know it could be. It did nothing to take the edge off, all it did was make you more desperate for him.

He feels so solid beneath you that you need more of him. You start to roll your hips against him trying to get him to move faster, to fuck you in the way he promised he would.

“Oh, you wanna take the lead, huh? By all means,” Bradley says, putting his hands behind his head in a way that makes his biceps look massive, “C’mon, pretty girl, show me what you got.”

Not one to turn down a challenge, you reach behind you to brace your hands on his thick thighs and lean back. You’d show him alright.

Show him just how good you look wearing his hat. Show him just how good he looks buried in your cunt. Show him just how good he looks covered in your arousal. Show him just how good you look working his cock as you roll your hip and raise yourself up and down on him.

“Jesus, fuck. Look at you. Good girls don’t ride cock like that. Shit, you look so damn pretty. You feel so good like this, you’re taking me so well.”

His eyes are torn between watching your face and the way your breasts bounce and the way his hat on your head bobs in time with the rhythm you’ve set. The new angle has the pressure building up swiftly in your lower stomach. And it’s so good, but it’s not what you want. It’s not what you need.

“Stop being such a gentleman, Rooster. I thought you were going to fuck me,” you say, leaning forward and nipping at his bottom lip.

“Pretty sure I told you I was both,” he says tracing a finger down your soft stomach to your pussy, you shiver as he starts making tight circles on your clit, “But if you wanna be fucked, then you’re going to be fucked.”

Bradley shows you just how honed his body is in the way he pulls you off of him and onto your hands and knees in front of him. Your arms never had a chance at keeping you up when he roughly pushes into you. He grips your hips tightly forcing you to bend and arch up further to meet his powerful thrusts.

His hat topples off your head and onto the edge of the bed, where his next drive of him into you sends it dropping onto the floor.

“Tell me how much you like getting fucked by an officer, sweetheart, I want to hear it.”

“It’s good,” you moan into the crevice of your elbow, trying to muffle some of your whimpers.

“Just good? The way your pretty pussy is clinging to be, I’d say you’re feeling more than ‘good’,” he taunts, slapping your ass for good measure in a way that makes you jerk back against him.

“Just think there’s room for improvement, you’re so chatty for someone who could be fucking me harder.”

“Had to work you open before I could fuck you. This how you want it?” he snaps his hips harder and faster into you. You gasp at the sensation and clutch at the comforter beneath your hands.

“Yes, yes.”

The pace he sets is desperate, hungry, and unrelenting. When he skims a hand up your back, tangling it in your hair and tugs, you swear you’ve never made the sound that he pulls from you before.

Every time you adapt to rock and grind of his hips and start to thrust yourself back to meet him, to take him deeper, he changes up his tempo forcing you to only take what you’re given. His touch is so electric you feel like you could light up a whole city.

Your room is filled with the sounds of skin connecting on skin, of sharp breaths and shattered sighs and pitchy keens. The angle he pounding into you has the ridge of his cock rubbing against that spot that has you trembling and writhing beneath him.

“Oh fuck, fuck. Bradley. Please.” You’re babbling nonsense now and you know it, but you’re so, so close.

He knows it too because when he slides his hand around you to run his thumb over your aching clit you shatter around him with a choked sob into your arm. You don’t fight the waves of pleasure crashing over you, you let them pull you under.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he rasps as you quake under his touch, “Good girl.”

His own hips start to stutter against you and his breathing starts to run ragged as he fucks into you. He is clutching your hips so tight you wouldn’t be surprised if you were wearing his fingerprints tomorrow. His groan as he comes is the best sound you’ve ever heard.

Somehow through the haze you realize that you’re not just smiling, you’re beaming.

Bradley is so perfectly heavy on top of you and so warm. You’re so thoroughly worn out and well fucked it’s all you can do to lay there with your eyes closed as you float in that post-orgasm bliss. You make a noise of disapproval when he pulls out of you.

“Gotta get rid of the condom, baby,” he says with a little laugh. You feel the bed shift as he makes his way to your bathroom, already missing the feeling of his body against you.

You know you should get up. Maybe take your makeup off or get some water, but you’re just so content. So satisfied. You’ve had a few one night stands before, but you’ve never felt so comfortable with someone before.

You hear Bradley’s steps get closer as he comes back into your bedroom, but the feel of a damp washcloth gliding up your thigh to the center of you takes you by surprise, “Oh, that’s warm.”

“Is it too warm?” he asks, pausing. You were lucky if your ex would hand you a tissue, so Bradley’s thoughtfulness makes something in your stomach flutter.

“’s nice. Thank you,” you sigh, arching into his tender touch.

You know you should take over, it’s too intimate of a gesture. You should, you should, you should. But you don’t. You let him clean you up while you will your heart to stop fluttering behind your ribs.

You’re pliant and boneless as he climbs back into your bed and pulls you against his chest. Your body shouldn’t fit so perfectly against his. It shouldn’t, it shouldn’t, it shouldn’t. But it does.

“You still with me?” Rooster teases lightly, brushing back some of the sweaty strands of your hair that were clinging to your forehead.

“Just resting up for round two.”

You feel his smile as he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Mmhm.”

Time slips away under the gentleness of his warm hands. Your breathing slows down to match the way he smooths his palm up and down along your spine. You don’t realize how close you are to sleep until he’s pulling you back from the wisps of slumber that were rising up to meet you.

“Do you want me to stay?” he asks quietly. You think you hear a string of hope threaded through his words.

It’s late, but not too late that he’d have a hard time finding an Uber or a cab to take him back to wherever home is for him, but you’re not quite ready to let go of him just yet.

“Yeah, you should stay,” you murmur into his chest.

You feel as he pulls up your comforter around the two of you. You nestle in even closer to him, draping your arm over his stomach and tucking your head under his chin. He reaches over you carefully and turns off the little lamp on your nightstand.

“Ok, I’ll stay.”

It doesn’t take long until the sound of Bradley’s steady breathing lulls you to sleep.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the way your body aches in the most pleasant of ways. You allow yourself to stretch luxuriously, your high thread count sheets skimming against your still naked body.

The second thing you notice is the sound of the shower running in your bathroom.

You’re glad to have this moment to yourself to grin madly into your pillow.

Because he stayed. He’s still here.

Once that rush of giddy energy works its way through the rest of your body, you get up to find your clutch with your phone in it and bring it back to bed with you. You shoot a text off to your best friend so that she doesn’t worry and get caught up on all the things you missed in the chaos that is the group chat. The amount of missed notifications are in the triple digits, you love to see girls supporting girls.

A few minutes later Rooster comes out of the bathroom with one of your fluffy white towels wrapped low around his hips. There’s still a part of you that still can’t believe last night even happened even as he stands in front of you, giving you a wide grin when he sees that you’re awake.

His hair is damp and the sight of those curls make you want to run your fingers through them again. Those muscles of his look even better in the morning light that is filtering through your blinds, you’re getting more than an eyeful of him.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Bradley says gesturing to the open bathroom door, “I wanted to sneak in a quick shower just in case. You seem like the type of girl who would know about her Third Amendment rights.”

“You never know, there’s still time,” you say with a coquettish little shrug and a Cheshire cat smile, “Although it seems rude to kick someone who made me come three times last night.”

“Four,” he says, the left side of his mouth ticking up a bit as he leans a hand on your dresser.

“Four?”

“Mmhm, four. I know what I felt.”

“Would you be up for reminding me how that fourth one went?” you ask, teasingly pulling the soft sheet down your body to sit up on your knees at the edge of your bed.

“Sure would, ma’am. Anything to solidify those civilian-military bonds,” Rooster says, strutting towards you.

He’s ducking down to greet you with a kiss when you stop him with a hand on his chest, “Wait, what time do you have to be back?”

You see that easy smile of his falter for just a moment, “18:30. Sorry that’s-”

“I know military time, Bradley,” you say with a smirk, toying with the loose knot of the towel. You do the math in your head, there’s still almost seven hours before he has to go. It’s an easy decision when you offer, “What do you say, Lieutenant, you want to spend the day with me?”

Rooster answers with an enthusiastic kiss and greedy hands that tell you everything you need to know. It doesn’t take long before you’re pushing off his towel, pulling him on top of you and getting tangled up with him again.

It only took you a few passes of his tongue to realize what he was spelling against your clit before he had you coming on his mouth.

L-I-E-U-T-E-N-A-N-T-C-O-M-M-A-N-D-E-R

And then after he reminds you of just how that fourth orgasm went, you set him up with some coffee in your kitchen as you go take a shower and get ready feeling entirely too weak in the knees for a man you’d just met.

You opt to skip the make-up and go fresh faced to have those extra minutes with him instead. Although you do end up finding a spot beneath your ear, a remnant from his mouth last night, that you do have to take a minute to conceal.

Swathed up in your silky robe, you sift through your closet looking for something to wear when your eyes catch on a different pink dress. There are other comfier, easier things you could wearbut it’s the tie on the mostly open back that seals the deal for you. You grin to yourself as you tug open the bow before pulling it on.

He lets out a low whistle when you emerge from your bedroom.

“I know it’s not sparkly, but I think it’ll do,” you joke, twisting your hips a bit so the material of your floral print ruffle sundress floats around your calves.

“It’ll more than do,” Bradley says, staring at you with the same open desire as you’d probably given him when he’d emerged from your bathroom wrapped in that towel.

You turn and look at him over your shoulder, “Do you mind tying this for me?”

You could easily tie it yourself, but it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun as having him do it for you.

“That ok?” he asks, his voice dropping a few notes lower as he fiddles with tying the flimsy straps in the back for you.

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Rooster.”

He drops a kiss to your shoulder when he’s done and then spins you so that you’re facing him.

“What about me? How do the Summer Whites measure up?” he asks, clearly fishing as he gestures to his uniform. It’s still white and pristine and surprisingly devoid of any wrinkles from the night it spent on the floor of your bedroom.

You give him a contemplative once over taking him in, “It’ll more than do. Although, you’re missing a little something.”

You walk over the island where you’d set his hat earlier so that it wasn’t forgotten on the floor in your bedroom and pick it up. He bends a little for your benefit as you place it on his head.

“Cute,” you say, adjusting it so it sits just right, “But I think I wore it better.”

“I think you did too,” Bradley says, tugging you in for a thorough kiss before he laces your fingers together, “You ready?”

“Yeah, let’s get this show on the road,” you say with a wink, repeating the same thing that you said back at the bar when you decided to take him home with you.

The first stop is to your favorite little café not too far away from your apartment. Coffee and food were very necessary after the way the two of you had worked each other out the night before.

Bradley had looked so cramped in your little VW Golf on the way over that you decided to ditch it there and walk around the area instead. The two of you popped in and out of the bookshops and plant shops and record stores that dotted the area. You were surprised to learn he had really great taste in music and ended up picking out a few new vinyl records to take home with you.

In line at the checkout, he’d plucked your credit card from your hand, nodding to the sign advertising the store’s military discount and whispered into your ear, “I won’t tell Uncle Sam if you don’t.”

A ten percent discount never felt so thrilling.

You caught more than a few men and women checking him out in his Summer Whites as you walked around. But you couldn’t blame them because he’d caught you checking him out more than once. But it wasn’t your fault that his ass was a revelation in those tight pants. And he clearly knew it.

When you see the marquee for the small theatre on this side of town that is known for playing the classics and art house films advertising a showing for State Fair you offhandedly mention how much you like that movie as you peek in the widow of one of the antique shops, and then next thing you know he checking his watch and pulling you with him to the box office window for tickets.

“If you don’t let me pay for something here soon, you’re going to give me a complex,” he complains when you stop him from pulling out the credit card that he has tucked in the pocket of his uniform.

“Sorry, Rooster, it’s still Fleet Week and rules are rules,” you joke, bumping him out of the way with your hip sliding your card to the attendant before he can argue with you any further.

“Baby, I need you to stop Richard Gere-ing me,” he says, taking the tickets and wrapping an arm around your waist then leading you in the building.

“Alas, they’re playing Pretty Woman today, but I think you have the potential to make a pretty Julia Roberts,” you tease him, “I’d bet red would look very fetching on you with those undertones.”

The pinch on your right butt cheek makes you jump, startled. You whirl to see if anyone caught him, but the lobby is fairly empty. You turn to send him a heatless glare, but his face is the picture of innocence.

You shake your head at him amused, “Ok, fine. Just for that I will allow you to buy me a small soda from the concession stand, Bradley.”

He looks very pleased ten minutes later when he’s carrying a large bucket of popcorn, three types of candy, and two giant cups of fizzing soda as you go to find your seats.

“So much for free Fleet Week drinks,” you tut, taking a sip of your drink.

“But I did get laid today, so I’ll call it a win,” he winks.

The two of you trade whispers as the lights go down and the music of the opening credits starts to play. You grin as you reach over for some popcorn and hear him humming along.

Just as Vivian Blaine starts strutting away from Dana Andrews, her hair bouncing vivaciously with each step, Rooster angles over, “Hey, that’s how your friend looked last night walking away from Hangman. He’s been harassing me all day to get you to give me your number so he can call her.”

You hold back the snicker that tries to escape your throat when he gets shushed by someone a few rows back, whispering even louder, “Sorry!”

You lean in closer, admiring the way half of his face is illuminated from the screen and confide, “Where do you think she learned it from?”

You and your best friend had taken the same film studies class in college and she tested out the move that night at the bars near campus with an almost perfect success rate. It’s been her go-to move ever since.

“No shit?”

“I’m serious,” you say with a giggle.

The shusher makes their displeasure known again and this time the both of you burst out laughing.

“We should probably go before they start throwing popcorn at us. I don’t think even with military grade detergent that you’d be able to get butter-flavored oil out of those Summer Whites.”

Bradley agrees readily and your heart flip-flops knowing that he’d rather be talking with you than sitting silently for the next two hours. He even tosses one of the boxes of candy to the shusher on the way out as an apology.

The two of you head to the beach instead, sitting on the sand and watching the waves. Tossing some of the popcorn kernels to hungry seagulls who approach. The two of you are both a little overdressed for it, but if anything, that makes it more fun.

You’re surprised at how easy it is to talk to him, to tease him. Surprised that he’s more than just a pretty face with a good body. The way he is so at-home and comfortable in his own skin makes you feel like you don’t have to try to be impressive, you can just be yourself.

As the sun sinks lower in the sky, you’re both increasingly aware there’s a ticking clock above your heads and that this has to come to an end soon. And far too soon you end up making your way back together to where you’d left your car a few blocks away from the café you’d taken him to for brunch.

“Do you need to drop by your place for your things?” you ask Rooster, toying with your car keys.

“I packed last night. I asked a friend who is shipping out with me to grab them for me,” he says, scrubbing a hand down the side of his face.

“Not Hangman?” You wonder fleetingly if your friend ended up caving and giving him her number or not.

“Not this time. Which I’m not too mad about since he snores.” You know he is trying to make you laugh, but you just press your lips together and nod.

“So I should head there.” It’s not a question. You know your time is up.

“You probably should,” he says, with a sigh and a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

It’s a quiet ride as he directs you to a public lot near the Naval Air Station where he says his friend Bob is going to meet the two of you, explaining that he doesn’t have the pass that would allow you to drop him off inside the gates.

There are a few cars in the lot, but he points out where you should park near an older, but well maintained Chevy truck. When you look over as you pull into the space a couple spots away a man in glasses waves, you don’t miss the two duffle bags that are in the second row of his cab.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. Don’t leave yet, please,” Rooster says, unbuckling and getting out of your car. And for whatever reason, you do too.

You linger in front of your car as you wait for him to come back to you. You watch as his friend Bob passes him a pen and some paper, you can tell he’s trying to fill it out quickly based on the way his hand seems to be flying over it.

There’s an intensity to the way that Bradley walks back to you. Your feet are pinned to the asphalt beneath you as his eyes stay trained on you.

You both stand there nearly chest to chest just taking the other in.

He’s still too breathtaking for words in his uniform as the golden hour light makes the sun-streaked strand of his hair gleam like threads of gold. His eyes slowly run over your face and down the dress he’d carefully tied you in this morning.

If this is it, if this is all you’re ever going to get with him, this is how you want him to remember you. Standing in a nice dress and staring at the sunset.

He reaches out and cups your face in his warm hand.

“Say you’ll see me again,” he says, holding your gaze. You can see every color of brown reflected in his pretty eyes.

Your heart seizes in your chest, “Bradley, I-”

He lightly puts his thumb over your lips to stop you before you can finish.

“Listen, I really like you. But it wouldn’t be fair of me to ask you to wait for me, so I’m not going to.” You’re unprepared for the rock that sinks to the pit of your stomach. “What I’m going to do is give you this,” he says handing you the thin paper packet, “This has all the information you need to get on base if you wanted to meet me there in two months when I get back. They give it to all of us when we get our deployment papers mailed to us, I’ve just never had a reason to fill one out for anyone before.”

You hold it in your hands and look at it. The letters are slightly sloppy in that way that men seem to have. The sheet is filled out his full name, Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw, as well as what you assume is his military I.D. number and other crumbs of information about the handsome man standing in front of you.

And you’re reminded again, that you’ve only gotten to see just the tiniest sliver of him.

“Say you’ll see me again,” he repeats, quieter this time, “Even if it’s just pretend.”

You hear what he is really saying: lie to me, please.

His friend is waiting for him in his idling truck.

And Bradley is waiting on you.

But you feel like you’re out of time.

This was supposed to be one night.

One night, one moment.

So why does this feel so big? Like you were on the precipice of something monumental.

You haven’t even known him for twenty-four hours and yet you’ve never felt like this about anyone else before. The potential of him and of what this seemed like it could be was too good, too perfect. And it scares you. Because the reality of it could crush you if you let yourself give into it and he changed his mind. You don’t want to get swept up in a daydream or a flight of fancy.

What-ifs are just heart aches, not heart breaks.

You can’t give him what he wants, not right now. But you can’t lie to him either.

Even if you want to. Even if you’re dying to.

“Stay safe, Lieutenant Commander Bradley Rooster Bradshaw,” you say, softly not trusting your voice.

Bradley leans in and tips your chin up with a finger under your chin, your eyes flutter close and your breath catches in your chest when you feel his warm breath ghosting over your face. He brushes the softest kiss you’ve ever been given against your cheek. The sweetness of it melts against your skin like a snowflake, like a wish.

“I hope I see you again,” he murmurs, lips lingering.

And then he’s gone, taken away on a summer breeze.

Those two months had moved slower than you thought possible.

You’d learned that your best friend hadn’t been able to give Hangman her number when she’d ended up being the one to try and corral the gaggle of drunken bridesmaids at last call and shepherd them into the waiting cabs. Apparently, she’d tried to look for him but by the time she’d had a moment he’d already left.

That packet of paper you’d kept on your island had taken on a life of its own.

At your friend’s wedding, you’d stood off to the side in your intricately beaded bridesmaid dress watching on with a glass of champagne in your hand as she had her first dance with her new husband. And let yourself imagine what it might have felt like if he’d have been there too. The next day as you had nursed your hangover, you’d regretted indulging those thoughts in addition to drinking the full bottle of champagne you’d snuck away with.

It felt like you were just going through the motions. Like your head was somewhere else, with someone else.

The more you tried to talk yourself out of it and forget about how he’d made you feel, the more he chased you in your dreams.

All the hours you’d spent wondering about what-if you went, what-if you waited, what-if you met him there had led you to this moment here and now.

The drive had been made, the papers had been handed over and you were approved for entry, it was all happening.

You at Naval Air Station North Island wearing the same pink floral ruffle sundress that you had dropped him off in two months ago.

The smell of jet fuel and rubber mix with the ocean air as the planes start to land one by one and make the slow taxi along the long airstrip that leads to the ramp where they are to park. The perfect lines of them were just as immaculate on the ground as they were in the sky.

As more and more of them make their final descent, the more antsy the crowd of friends and families of the squadron members get. There’s an excited tension steadily building as they wait for the go-ahead to leave the hanger to greet the people they’ve been missing.

You can hear your heartbeat beating in your ears like a drum.

He’s here. He’s here. He’s here.

You hope you’re not making an idiot of yourself. You hope that he hasn’t forgotten you. You hope he remembers why he wanted you here in the first place. You hope he still wants you.

When the final engine of the final plane is turned off, the officer in charge announces that everyone is free to exit the hanger and another cheer goes out. This one much louder than before when the aviators had done the flyover in their faultless formations.

It’s a rush of people as they stream around you out of the domed arch of the hanger and onto the open tarmac under the cloudless blue sky.

The names on the planes had been clocked well in advance by their keen, anticipatory eyes. They know exactly which aircraft they’re heading to and who is going to be climbing out of that cockpit to greet them with equal enthusiasm.

You can see the beaming smiles, you can hear the giddy laughter.

Yet your feet stay stuck on that line between the cracked industrial cement floor and the sundrenched tarmac as you watch all those happy moments happen around you.

It’s the sound of a raspy, full bodied laugh that catches your ear and has your head whirling to the left.

And there he is.

Even from a distance the sight of Bradley Bradshaw has your heart fluttering in your chest.

You see him meeting up with a couple of other pilots with his helmet in hands. You recognized Bob by his glasses, but they’re joined by a fierce looking woman. Rooster is all smiles as she gives him a friendly, playful shove before slipping her hand into Bob’s.

There is nothing you want more than that smile of his to be directed at you.

You catch the way he seems to be checking over his shoulders and looking around to observe the joyful homecoming scenes unfolding around him.

It feels like half hope, half agony when you take that first step out of the shady hanger, onto the tarmac, and into the bright San Diego sun. There were still more than a few warm summer days to look forward to.

Summoning more courage, you take a few more tentative steps in Rooster’s direction. You feel like you’re holding your breath, waitingwaitingwaiting for him to look over and see you.

You’re noticed by his dark-haired female friend first, who nods her chin in your direction. You see the rise and fall of his shoulders as he takes a deep breath before he turns towards your direction and sees you for the first time in two months.

And for a moment, it’s just you and Bradley.

Across a crowded bar. Across a teeming tarmac.

His eyes locked on yours and yours locked on his.

That easy smile he’d already been wearing is transformed into a wide grin that lights up his whole face.

Your stomach swoops and your feet start moving like they have a mind of their own towards him. He hands his helmet to Bob before he’s taking long strides to meet you halfway. You’re almost toe-to-toe with him, but you stop a respectable half-step further away than you’d like to be.

The two of you are a little greedy in the way you take in the other up close.

You can almost feel the warmth of his brown eyes on your skin, he’s looking at you like he is trying to soak up every inch of you. He has a heart-fluttering crinkle around his eyes as his gaze sweeps over your dress. And you know you’ve made the right choice by wearing it.

Rooster is more tan than the last time you saw him. Sweat dots his temples and his pretty curls are a little flat, no doubt from the shiny red and yellow helmet he’d all but blindly shoved into poor Bob’s hands. You notice that his lips are chapped and his nose a little sunburnt.

He’s still handsome as hell. Maybe even more so now.

“Hey, Sailor,” you greet him, giving him a grin of your own. “You look awfully familiar. Although I think the flight suit is throwing me off, maybe if you put those Summer Whites back on it’ll help jog my memory.”

He laughs and slides a finger under the thin strap of your dress and gently tugs you in even closer.

“Huh, that’s funny because I definitely remember you,” Bradley says, scooping you up with one arm, “Pretty sure you’re the girl of my dreams.”

And then he’s kissing you in a way that you’re pretty sure is going to screw you up forever.

Your wildest dreams never could have prepared you for the reminder of how good it feels to be held in his arms.

Your wildest dreams never could have prepared you for how good it feels to have his lips sliding against yours again.

Your wildest dreams never could have prepared you for a man like Bradley Bradshaw.

He was real and he was in front of you and he wanted you.

“I need you to stop smiling so much, sweetheart, so I can kiss you properly,” he says, pulling back to nudge your nose with his.

“My apologies, I’ll try to take this more seriously,” you tease, still smiling as you pull his face back to yours.

As Bradley presses you even closer, you realize this might not be a bad idea at all, but possibly the best one you’ve ever had.

There's no man quite like Bradley Bradshaw! Whether he is in his Summer Whites or in a Flight Suit he's That Man™️!

Many, many, MANY thanks to @gretagerwigsmuse for her support and endless cheerleading! He's finally got his pants off, Jordan, we did it!

If you missed Part 1 you can read it HERE! Or if you haven't read the story that started it all check out Hey, Sailor!

Moodboards: One || Two

You can read my other stories here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction

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mournings-stars · 3 months

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so lute and velvette… opinions on what they would like to receive as gifts? 👀

OHHH OK i got carried away and did how theyd react to gifts but trust i followed the prompt at first

so lute doesn’t like gifts (this is a lie). if you get her anything she’ll just throw it away (she will treasure that shit til the day she dies). just dont get her a work-related gift and she’ll love it forever

velvette on the other hand loves gifts — she expects them and you know it’d be a death wish to get her anything related to her work — even if its shallow, she’d rather have that because something work related feels undermining

say you get lute flowers? she’ll appreciate them in private because no one ever gets her anything, and she doesn’t know when she’ll get a spontaneous “they made me think of you” gift again

get velvette flowers? that woman is expecting flowers with every gift you give her because flowers can’t be a gift again silly, now they’re just common courtesy

but don’t worry, velvette is gushing about you all over social media because you meet her expectations so well — she posts things like “never settle for less” and its more and more every time

lute is discreet about her fawning. rather than broadcasting her appreciation, she’ll find herself staring at the flowers she’s been keeping healthy with fresh trims and water whenever it was needed and thinking she should probably do something to show her gratitude — so that you weren’t just giving her something unwarranted ofc. not because she wanted you to start giving each other gifts

of course that would be exactly what happens

i don’t think velvette would put too much effort into getting you a gift, like shes not thinking about what you might like in return or anything, but if she sees something you’ll like?? (and she knows what you like) best believe she’s getting that no mater the price

and vel is not the type to take off price tags. not because she wants you to feel bad about her spending so much money, but because she wants you and everyone else to know that she’s going to do everything possible to keep you happy, so that price tag going on her story with a casual “anything for my baby”, is 1000% percent a threat to the world

i have half a mind to think she makes sure to buy you the most obscenely expensive things when you’re not there to object and tells you it was final sale, but “it’s okay, love, we’ll go and get you something else, yeah?” and thats how she gets you because she knows you love her gifts, and she will be getting you more

with lute, you’d definitely be the one buying things on a whim. however, she would make you return things that were too pricey, only to find something she’d want to get you — conveniently she’d forget to check the tag, or she’ll talk to the shop owner until she got the price down

“what about this?” she’d ask when she saw something she wanted to get you, and you’d have to ask her whether it was for you her her. she’d lie, obviously, and end up finding a way to give it to you in the future

lute would also tell you not to get her anything then be walking with adam down the promenade and tell you to “catch” as she tossed you something she got for you

and that girl is 100% watching to see you fawn over it, smiling when she sees how excited you are only to be pulled out of it by you coming back to give her something in return because you just knew if she told you not to get anything, that meant she got you something. like it’s basically a competition at this point and she counts that as a loss — and lute does not lose

velvette, on the other hand? not a competition; she’s winning either way. she has a partner who gets her gifts that meet her expectations, and she has a partner she can give gifts that meet her expectations

but lute’s competitiveness about gifts is hot so who’s really winning…

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel heaven #hazbin velvette #lute hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #lute x reader #lute #hazbin hotel velvette #velvette x reader #velvette hazbin hotel #hazbin headcanons #hazbin x reader #lute headcanons #velvette headcanons #hazbin

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wttcsms · 1 year

Text

turn on the flash and hit record ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 1.5k synopsis simon misses you on one of his missions. good thing he has a collection of movies the two of you filmed to keep him company. content contains male masturbation, possessive!ghost, obsessed!ghost, filmed sex, vaginal fingering, brief gunplay (towards the end), he whimpers in this fic btw, slight size kink/size difference

Everything about you seems to have been made specifically for him, from the way your eyes seem to always catch his to how easily he can manhandle you, flipping you into different positions as he very well pleases.

You indulge with his every whim, eager to follow his commands and so when he asks you love, can I record you just this once? you agree with little to no hesitation. After all, it’s Simon, your Simon — you know he’s possessive almost to a fault, and the man rarely shows his face unless he truly trusts the person he’s baring himself to. There’s no chance someone else will be able to get their hands on the footage.

His missions last too long, and the weeks he spends separated from you are nothing short of pure agony. Before you, he didn’t feel the constant need for release, but after you? He craves it. You only realize you’re starving after having a taste of what you’ve been deprived of for so long.

Which is how he finds himself here, tucked safely away in the darkness of a room in a safehouse that’s seen better days, the front of his military-issued pants and briefs pulled down just enough to free his cock.

The tip is flushed red, already leaking with pre, and he spits into the palm of his hand before wrapping it around his length, practically hissing at the contact. Propped up on the nightstand and located in his direct line of sight is his private phone containing only your number and an album full of photos and videos of you in different positions and various states of undress.

Recording you just once turns into a second time which leads to him recording the two of you going at it for a third time until eventually, he’s built up quite the collection. The video playing on his phone is one of his favorites; it’s one of the first he’s ever filmed, proven by the shyness still evident on your face and body as you blush when the camera lands on you.

You’re lying on the bed he shares with you, completely bare and entirely vulnerable. Scattered across your skin are various lovebites, all varying in depth depending on whether he wanted to give you just a playful nip or true mark to remember him by when he’s gone.

You look so pretty right now, love. Let’s hope the camera can catch that beauty, huh?

He can hear the familiar sound of his chuckle coming from the video; you’re the only person left in this world to ever see him with such a playful demeanor, but his laugh might be the last thing on your mind. He’s certainly not thinking too hard when the camera angles downward to showcase your dripping cunt.

Simon takes a sharp inhale as he watches the way your folds are practically glistening with your slick arousal.

Wonder if your pussy’s so wet, I’ll be able to hear it in the video. What do you think, darling?

He tightens his grip on his cock as he watches himself enter three fingers, your tiny hole struggling to adjust to the abrupt intrusion. The shlick sound that accompanies every thrust is picked up by his phone camera, and Simon groans as the room he’s currently in gets enveloped in the sounds of him playing with your wet pussy.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, watching the precum bead from the tip of his cock, some of it slowly dribbling down, running along the veins on his dick. The extra lubrication makes his movements smoother, and soon, there’s a subtle clicking sound as he tries to stroke his dick in tandem with the thrusts he’s doing on the screen.

“Simon!” Your sweet voice moans out his name in the recording. He’s watched this video so many times already; he knows that right about now, you’re going to start lifting your pretty hips in an attempt to get his fingers to penetrate you even deeper. He remembers the night he filmed this video; he’s going to curl his fingers right up against that special spot of yours that’ll have you cumming all over his hand.

He struggles to keep his lidded eyes from closing all the way, desperate to watch your tiny hole fluttering around his fingers, squeezing him so tight. In turn, the grip on his dick only tightens as he watches you writhe on top of the sheets, slender fingers curling against the bedsheets as you scream out his name. The camera catches the way you cream all over his fingers, effectively coating his skin in it all the way down to his knuckles. It’s practically dripping all the way to his wrist.

The sight has him practically drooling, his strokes now even rougher. He imagines his rough, calloused hands are your smaller, soft ones. The girth of his dick makes you unable to wrap your whole entire hand, the tips of your fingers unable to touch due to his massive width. He tosses his head back, bucking into his hand as the audio from your little film still plays in the background.

Such a good girl for me. Always so needy, aren’t you?

He doesn’t need to see the video to know you’re nodding in reply. He watches through hazy vision as the him in the video takes his thumb and traces your bottom lip. Without him even needing to ask, you part those pretty lips of yours and take his thumb in your mouth, sucking.

Fuck, what he would do to have you here by his side right now.

He’ll have to make do with these videos, though. It’s not like these little films aren’t enough to bring him to release. The idea of his sweet love being his own personal pornstar does something to him, and he shuts his eyes, still working his cock as other memories of passionate nights beforehand flood his mind.

There was that one night where the two of you played one of the videos of him fucking you to the point where tears were brimming in your eyes due to overstimulation. He made a vow that for every time you came in that video, he would make you cum even harder. (He had done well in keeping that promise.) He thinks of the way your flesh feels underneath his fingers, and he relishes in the memory of how it feels to squeeze your thighs as he spreads you apart so he can savor the taste of you on his tongue. He could eat your little pussy out for hours, and after this mission, he makes a promise to do so.

He’s nearing the end of the video; he knows so because his favorite line is about to come up and at the perfect time, too.

Simon, I-I want your cum. Please come for me, please?

He doesn’t need to look at his screen to know you’re pouting up at him, knowing just the right thing to have him groaning. His breaths are coming in short pants, and your sweet, dulcet tone makes him want to come right then and there.

Please, Simon.

Your little pleas for him to reach the height of pleasure is music to his ears. He’s practically whimpering now, forcing himself to stroke himself even more rapidly despite the fact that the stimulation on his already sensitive cock is blending pain into his pleasure.

“Gonna do it for you, love.” He weakly moans out in this empty room. He can feel himself about to fall off the edge, his release so close that it’s just about palpable. With a low groan of your name mixed with a string of curses, he finds himself ejaculating all over his hand. The amount of cum is so much that it’s not enough for it to just coat the entire length of his cock and fingers — no, there are strings of white splattered on his abdomen, effectively staining his uniform.

He’s panting, the video now over, but before he can shut off the phone, a text notification appears.

My Love [One Video Attachment]

He clicks on it, curious as to what you could possibly be sending him.

It’s a new video, one you must have just now filmed. You’ve got one of his guns, the magazine lying on the nightstand. He knows it’s unloaded and basically a toy at that point, but he doesn’t understand what’s going on until he watches you strip yourself, leaving your beautiful figure on display. He can see you dripping for him already, and he watches with bated breaths as you take the barrel of his handgun and tease your soaking entrance with it.

I need you so badly, Simon. When will you come back home?

His cock is already hardening again, and he palms himself, fumbling with his phone to call you.

Everything about you is perfect to him.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #one shot #drabble #smut #lemon #modern warfare 2

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saythenametotheworld · 1 month

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]

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