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forlix · 11 months

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𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.

— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

words・11.1k

pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)

genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative

warnings・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack, alcohol is consumed, lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication, complex people feeling complex emotions, smut warnings under the cut

playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys

a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u

smut warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia

Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.

As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.

This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.

But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.

You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.

Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.

“Nervous?”

Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.

“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.

You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.

“Just remember who you are.”

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.

Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.

Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.

The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.

One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.

“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

“For my newborn daughter.”

“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”

“My genes, to begin with.”

“That’s unfair. She’s using—”

An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.

“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.

Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.

Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.

Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”

The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.

“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.

“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”

“Is she here already?”

“No, she’ll be here at nine.”

There’s a small pause.

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”

“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”

At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”

“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”

They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.

She reminds me of him.

“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”

Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.

The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.

At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.

“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”

“Absolutely the hell not.”

Then, it is 9:00.

When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.

“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”

You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path.

With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.

Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.

“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.”

“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”

Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.

The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.

Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.

He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there.

“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.

But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.

“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.

Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.

Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.

Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.

Too bad you never let him daydream for long.

“Close.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. Close them.”

His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.

A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.

“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.

And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.

“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”

“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.

“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”

He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.

Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.

He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.

Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.

You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”

At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”

He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.

“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”

“No notes.”

It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you after the show, then.”

You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour.

It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.

“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”

You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.

“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.

“You have any jewelry for me?”

You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.

You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.

You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.

“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”

He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.

Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.

You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.

In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.

When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.

And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.

“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”

Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.

“About you? Damn straight.”

At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.

And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.

This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.

“Hwang—” You begin.

“Hyung!”

At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.

“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?”

In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.

You’re flustered.

You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall.

“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”

“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”

“Ah.”

Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.

“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.

Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.

Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.

“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.

One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.

Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.

When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.

You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.

“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.

“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”

“Me neither, now that you mention it.”

Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.

But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.

Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.

You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.

“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”

Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.

“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.

The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.

Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze.

“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”

And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.

“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”

Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.

“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”

She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.

You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.

“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.

“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”

Right there.

She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.

“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”

A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”

She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”

Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.

As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.

Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.

Artistry.

“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”

And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?

Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.

The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.

“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”

There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.

You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.

You’re annoyed before he says a word.

“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”

“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”

But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.

“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”

The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter.

In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.

You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”

“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”

As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.

“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”

Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.

But what if she’s not hallucinating?

No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.

“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”

Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.

On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.

Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.

You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.

You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.

You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.

When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.

At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.

You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.

For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.

If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.

The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.

You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds.

As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.

By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.

You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.

You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.

Hyunjin does not.

“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session.

You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”

“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”

The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.

“Now you.”

Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.

When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.

“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”

There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—

“That’s a joke, right?”

Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.

“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”

At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.

“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”

He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.

“—and not just because you’re hot.”

You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.

Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly.

Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete.

When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.

If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.

[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav

Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.

After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.

But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.

You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.

So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.

Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.

Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.

One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.

When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.

You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.

A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.

“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”

When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.

Then, you start walking towards him.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”

He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.

A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.

Something’s not right.

“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”

“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.

“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”

With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.

Go, you mouth, and he obliges.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.

Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.

You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.

Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.

“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.

He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.

As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.

Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.

He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.

You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.

“Hyunjin?”

His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.

“Hello? Did you—”

“Is everything okay?”

A short pause follows his interruption.

“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”

The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”

The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.

“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.

“You really don’t know?”

“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”

“No, that’s not—”

“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”

There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.

He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.

“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person.

“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.

“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”

With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe.

When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.

“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”

Your mind careens; your heart reels.

“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”

You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.

But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.

“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”

God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?

“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”

And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—

“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”

—and crumble.

You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.

When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.

Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.

Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you.

One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.

Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.

“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.

“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.

Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand.

Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.

He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.

He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system.

“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”

Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?

He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Son of a bitch—”

“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod.

At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.

He’ll end up doing both.

Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.

Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.

As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.

After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.

He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.

But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.

“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.

There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”

He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.

This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.

Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.

For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.

“Where do you find your inspiration?”

As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.

“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?

“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”

Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.

“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”

A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane.

“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”

The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“And who would that be?”

He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe

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wholoveseggs · 5 months

Note

girrrllll, i got another idea! how about Elijah proposing to a reader? it could be angsty in the beginning, maybe they got into a fight because she feels like he always puts his family before her, so he proposes to her to show her she is his family too (and cause he was planning on doing that for a while anyway). and it’s all emotional, she’s not believing what’s happening and she’s thinking he doesn’t really mean it. meanwhile he’s almost desperate to show her how much she means to him. Smut cannot be absent of course. thank youuuu🫶🏻🫶🏻

Forever

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Elijah loves you with all his heart, but his commitment to his family and his loyalty to Klaus keeps him from acting on his feelings. But when he almost loses you, he is determined to prove that you are the only woman he has ever truly loved, and wants to make you his, forever.

♡♡ Thanks for the request @msveronicag! Who doesn't want to be Elijah's wife? ♡♡

6.8k words - Warnings: smut, fluff, angst, slight violence (a classic Elijah & Klaus brawl), shower sex, rimjob {f!receiving}, oral sex & the Italian coast ♡

Everyone says that Elijah Mikaelson is the best of his family. A loyal, charming, considerate man that holds himself to a standard not many can accomplish. In essence, perfect. He loves his family deeply, despite their constant misgivings and betrayals. Nothing would get in his way, if it meant he could protect the ones he loves.

Well, that's what you wanted to believe.

There was a reason Elijah held such devotion to his family. He was one of them, and no better than the worst of them, having sinned over and over to the point where atonement was simply not a viable option.

He didn't want you to see him that way, the dark side of his polished exterior. He wanted to shed his past and become a new man with you by his side.

You were unlike anyone he's ever known or had a passing connection to. Your empathy and kindness was beyond measure, it had captivated him the very moment that your eyes met.

He always wanted to be married, there were even a few times he almost found someone to spend eternity with. Something always stood between that moment and himself, usually in the shape of some great threat. But things had now settled in his life, he had a niece and a proper place to call home. He was no longer on the run from one demon or another.

He wanted this. To settle down with the woman of his dreams, build a life together, and maybe even add to it.

Perfect. Simple. Domestic bliss.

You had come for a small party celebrating Hope's third birthday. Or, as far as you were concerned, a get together amongst those you considered family.

Although, sometimes you worried they didn't see you as family in turn. Deep entrenched history often kept you away from the inner workings of their family life. You understood that you had to earn your place in their lives, and you had done so time and time again. But they never seemed to truly accept you as one of their own.

You got along with nearly all of them except Klaus, who saw you as just a passing phase Elijah was going through. A dalliance, nothing more.

He certainly knew how to poke at your insecurities about your relationship.

"So, tell me," he asked as the two of you waited in the kitchen. "When will this little thing with you and my brother end?"

"Excuse me?" you asked, trying to keep your voice light.

"Don't take it personally, sweetheart. You're not the first pretty face he's lost himself in," Klaus explained with a shrug.

"You don't think he's serious about me?" you questioned, trying not to feel hurt.

Klaus just shrugged and gave you a wicked grin. "Why would he be?"

"Because I love him, and he loves me," you replied, keeping your voice low. "It's been four years, and it's serious."

Klaus let out a bark of a laugh. "Four years is nothing in the life of an original. When will you stop living in this fantasy you've built in your mind? This will end and you will move on."

You were about to respond with a few choice words when Hayley came in carrying hope.

While your relationship with Klaus was contentious and you thought him to be cruel and cold. There was no doubt that Hope loved her daddy with all of her tiny heart. She reached out to him, and he happily took her into his arms.

"There's my little one," he cooed, holding her close. "I love you, my sweet girl."

He began to place kisses all over her, and the three year old giggled loudly.

You had baked the cake for her, and placed a number 3 candle in the middle.

"Let's light her up!" you announced.

The cake was placed on the dining room table, and Elijah stood by you. He slipped his hand in yours and squeezed.

"I want auntie y/n to light it," Hope said.

You smiled wide and kissed her on the head.

"Okay," you whispered, your voice soft.

You lit the candle, and everyone began to sing as the little Mikaelson happily ate a slice of cake, messily covering herself. You laughed, taking a cloth to wipe her little face and hands. Elijah watched you with adoring eyes, you were such a loving soul and he was so lucky to be the one to call you his own.

The cake was enjoyed by all and soon it was time for gifts. Hope was handed a large package by her father, and she eagerly tore open the paper.

You were cuddled up to Elijah, and he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Thank you, my love."

"For what?" you asked, glancing up at him.

"For being here. It means a lot to me," he told you.

You looked back up at Elijah, and kissed him lightly.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you told him.

Hayley helped Hope unwrap the gift from you and Elijah. It was a wooden dollhouse, and it was a miniature replica of the compound, complete with a little Klaus, Elijah, Hayley, and Hope.

Hope hugged the dollhouse to her chest. "I love it!"

"We made it ourselves," you said with a smile.

"Look, daddy!" Hope squealed. "Auntie Y/N and Uncle 'lijah got me a house."

Klaus gave you a tight smile, and you looked at Elijah. He wrapped an arm around your waist, and held you close. This only seemed to annoy Klaus more, but he turned his attention to his daughter, and the gift that she had received.

"That's amazing, little love. Now, why don't you open the rest of your presents?"

"Okay!"

The evening winded down, and eventually Klaus and Hayley took Hope upstairs to get her ready for bed and the rest of the family retired to their rooms. You had left the dining room table a mess, and wanted to help clean up.

You had picked up a few discarded wrapping papers, when Elijah's arms came around your waist.

"Don't worry about that, my love," he whispered, pressing his lips to your neck. "Leave it, we can do it tomorrow."

"You're sure?" you asked, leaning against him.

"Very," he whispered, taking your hand and leading you towards his bedroom. "I have other plans for you."

"Oh?"

"Mmm," he replied, nipping at your ear. "You know, I've been thinking of you all day. All the things I'd like to do with you."

You flushed, biting your lips and smiling shyly. He never failed to make your heart skip a beat when he looked at you with that seductive gaze. He never had to force it either, his stare was simply alluring and attentive, it pulled you into its grasp like a siren's song.

Elijah shut the door, and the moment you turned around, he grabbed you and kissed you passionately. His hands held your hips tightly, pulling you against him. He kissed down your jawline, and down your throat.

He pushed you gently onto the bed, kissing down your neck and inhaling the smell of your skin, pulling your clothes off as he went along.

His love, his entire world, right here in his arms. If he were a more possessive man, he'd keep you in this room until his love was imprinted in your very bones.

He kissed you softly, wanting to take his time and express how deeply he cared for you with each touch. He moved down your body, worshiping your skin with his hands and mouth, and the soft sounds that escaped you only urged him on.

His bliss was quickly broken by the sounds of his brother yelling for him at the top of his lungs- an unnecessary use of volume, considering everyone had supernatural hearing.

You reached down and cupped his face, drawing his attention back to you.

"Please don't," you whispered, a pleading look in your eyes. "Stay,"

Elijah's breath left his lungs. You were not the clingy type, in fact you were rather understanding and independent; letting him go and do whatever it was the family needed, always supporting him.

He should stay, finish what he started with you, love you, the one he can't live without. But there was clearly something going on downstairs, his family needed him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "I'll be back."

"Sure," you said flatly, pulling away. You didn't quite meet his eyes as you turned on your side, facing away from him.

You were clearly upset, but he didn't have time to be swayed by his emotions. He leaned in to give you a quick kiss, but you turned your head away.

"I'm sorry, my love," he said, stroking your hair.

You didn't respond, and he had to leave you there, curled up and angry. He felt a deep pang of regret, but the thought of his family's safety was at the forefront of his mind.

As soon as Elijah left, you let your emotions come to a boil. It hurt how he was constantly running away to deal with his family. It hurt you when he put them over you, their arguments over little things always dragged him in. It made you feel undesired, and second best.

You had no doubt he cared for you, and you did believe he loved you. But did he truly love you the way he loved his own family?

No, not really. He was always holding back, never showing all of himself. He wanted a relationship, but not a true partnership. Not with you, anyway.

Your insecurities bubbled to the surface. The way Klaus acted around you, like you didn't belong, he always treated you as if you were an outsider. Perhaps he was right, that it was a fantasy, that you should move on.

It didn't matter that you were with Elijah. It didn't matter that he called you his love.

He could love you, but not be in love with you. And maybe he wasn't. Maybe this was all a lie, a ruse.

Just too good to be true.

Klaus was pacing around the courtyard, clearly worked up and ready to take it out on the next person who walked through the door.

"Is it necessary to yell?" Elijah asked, his voice calm and collected.

"I had to make sure to get your attention, since you've been so distracted lately," Klaus snarked, a pointed look on his face.

Elijah let out a sigh, this wasn't the first time they've had this conversation. He was growing tired of Klaus' attitude. "What is it that's so important?" he asked, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.

"Y/n is a distraction," Klaus began. "You are blinded by her, and you've become weak and weakness will get us killed." He was speaking quickly and with anger. "You are no longer the man that I've known for a thousand years. You have forgotten where you came from, what you are, and who you are meant to protect."

"Are you suggesting I cast her aside?" Elijah questioned, his voice cold.

"Yes, exactly," Klaus answered, his expression unchanging.

"No," Elijah stated simply.

"She acts far too familiar, and is clearly not one of us," Klaus continued.

"She has proven herself time and time again," Elijah countered. "What more does she need to do?"

"I don't want Hope getting attached to someone that isn't family," Klaus said.

"You can't control who Hope gets close to," Elijah snapped, his anger finally rising.

"I can certainly try," Klaus replied, his tone icy. "And I will. Because you've allowed this woman into our home, our family, and now she's acting as if she belongs."

"She does," Elijah said, his voice steady. "You just have a hard time accepting that."

"If you really care about her, then you will do what is best," Klaus replied, his expression changing. "We both know what happens to your dalliances, they come to tragic ends. I'm trying to spare her from that, brother."

"This isn't some fling, Klaus," Elijah growled, his eyes flashing with rage.

"No, she's just a girl you enjoy fucking! And now Hope is calling her auntie, and she's acting like she's Hope's mother-"

Elijah laughed coldly, his brother was so painfully transparent, his paranoia endless and ever growing. "Is that what this is about? You're afraid of her taking Hayley's place? That I would take yours? Have you officially gone insane?" he mocked, his anger at a breaking point. "Have my actions in the last few years not been clear?"

"She will not be welcomed here once you've tired of her. Once she's gone, Hope will ask for her, and I will not allow that," Klaus stated, his voice rising. "You will have broken a little girls heart because of some stupid infatuation."

Elijah's patience with his brother had worn thin. He had to remind himself that Klaus had suffered so many losses in his long life, that his paranoia had grown into something monstrous. But in times like this, his brother could be utterly cruel, and it was impossible to see him as anything but.

"It's not some stupid infatuation," Elijah seethed, his hands clenched into fists. "I love her, and that's something you will never understand. She has been good for me, and has done nothing but support us. She's not a threat, and you know it. This is the problem with you, you want everyone to suffer as you have."

"That is not what I'm doing-" Klaus began, his voice rising. "She's not one of us, and will never be. You just keep her around as a trophy, to remind yourself that you are capable of caring for another. She doesn't belong here, and it will be her undoing."

Elijah lost his control and snapped. He grabbed his brother and threw him against the wall. Klaus' head hit the stone and cracked loudly. His face contorted into an expression of rage, his eyes flashing gold. He moved forward and punched Elijah in the face, sending him stumbling back. He rushed at his brother and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing tightly. Klaus' anger grew, and his grip tightened.

"Enough!" Hayley screamed, grabbing Klaus' arm and pulling him back. She looked between the two brothers, her eyes wide. "Why are you two fist fighting when my daughter is trying to sleep?!"

Klaus' eyes were wild, and his face was covered in blood, Elijah looked the same, and neither was ready to back down. The only thing stopping them was Hayley's presence. She stood between them, and looked at Klaus. "What did you do? What could you have possibly said to him?" she demanded.

"Y/n isn't family, and never will be," Klaus spat, glaring at Elijah. "I have to protect our daughter."

"Our daughter? You're unbelievable, Klaus," Hayley said, shaking her head. "Go. To. Bed. Both of you," she commanded.

She grabbed Klaus's hand, and dragged him away. Elijah sighed, rubbing his forehead. He looked up and saw you on one of the upper balconies with an unreadable expression on your face.

Had you seen that entire argument? Did you hear the awful things his brother had said about you?

He rushed up the stairs and met you at your bedroom door. You had your bag in your hand, and he knew immediately what was happening.

"You can't," he told you, shaking his head.

"I'm not welcome here," you whispered. "I have to go, Elijah."

"You are always welcome here," he said, reaching for you. "Please, let's talk."

"We have talked," you told him, pushing his hand away. "I've heard everything I needed to hear, Elijah. You keep choosing them over me. It's always your family first, and I understand that, but you have to see how it hurts me. I can't just keep coming second in your life."

"You aren't," he whispered, trying to draw you close, but you gently pushed him away. He felt his heart shatter at the action, and he knew he had lost you. "I want you, I choose you. Don't do this, my love."

You pushed past him, unable to hear anything else he had to say at the moment, you needed space to think, to figure out what you wanted. If this was a fight you could win. "Goodbye, Elijah," you said, giving him one last glance.

He stood there, and he was frozen. How could this have happened? He thought that he had made you understand that this was permanent. That you were forever.

But he had failed to show his love properly and he had to fix what he broke. You were his greatest love, his everything, and he couldn't live without you. He was nothing without you. So he would do whatever it took to bring you back.

Because if you were gone, so was he.

You were staying with Marcel, the only person who understood what it was like to be in the Mikaelson shadow. He wasn't thrilled that Elijah had hurt you, but he did understand that relationships weren't always easy, especially with the Mikaelsons.

He poured you a stiff drink, and let you wallow.

"I shouldn't have gone," you muttered.

"It's Hope's birthday," he pointed out.

"But I should have known better than to get involved like that, it only makes Klaus jealous," you sighed.

"Klaus is a notorious asshole, and Elijah is...well, he's not good with his emotions."

"That's putting it lightly."

You drank the whole glass in one gulp, and poured yourself another.

"I don't know why I thought that he was serious," you grumbled.

"He's serious, but he's also scared," Marcel replied. "It's a lot easier for him to push people away, then have the chance to hurt them."

"It's a terrible feeling, wanting to be a part of a family that doesn't want you," you admitted.

"I know the feeling," Marcel replied, sitting down next to you.

"He told me he loved me. He told me that we were going to spend forever together. And yet, his family still doesn't accept me." You looked up at Marcel, your eyes filled with tears.

"It's just Klaus, the rest of them adore you," he told you.

"How do I get Klaus to trust me? I'm not trying to take his daughter," you insisted.

"Just be patient, give him some time," Marcel advised.

"I've given him four years," you said. "And he's not willing to accept me even a little."

Marcel nodded, and handed you another drink. "Don't worry about Klaus, he'll get over himself."

"And Elijah?" you asked.

Marcel frowned. "That's not my area."

"Yeah," you said, nodding slowly. "Me either."

You and Marcel had a few drinks and talked the night away. By the end, you had almost completely forgotten your heartache, and were simply enjoying the company.

Marcel had fallen asleep, and you were dozing off when your phone buzzed. You opened it and saw a message from Elijah.

We need to talk.

You sighed, and sent him a simple reply.

Tomorrow.

You were far too exhausted to deal with his bullshit right now. You tossed your phone on the coffee table and fell asleep.

The next morning you woke up on Marcel's couch, a blanket thrown over you. You stretched, and grabbed your phone, heading into the kitchen.

Elijah had texted you back.

Meet me outside, I have a car waiting for you.

You frowned. He was sending a car for you? You quickly responded.

Why are you sending a car?

A response came instantly.

It's a surprise.

You shook your head, but smiled a little and texted him back.

Fine, give me 10 minutes.

Hurry, we're on a tight schedule.

You showered, and got dressed, grabbing your bag, and heading out. You gave Marcel a quick goodbye, and hopped into the town car.

Elijah was sitting there, and smiled softly.

"Good morning," he said.

"Morning," you replied.

He looked you over, and you were surprised by the intense gaze. You blushed under his scrutiny.

"What?" you asked.

"You're beautiful," he said softly. "And I'm sorry, for all of this. I never meant to hurt you, or make you feel unwanted."

You shook your head. "I know you didn't," you said. "And it's okay."

"It's not," he told you, reaching for your hand. You let him take it, and he pressed a kiss to your palm.

You flushed, and looked away. "Where are we going?"

"The airport," he replied.

"What? Why?" You were completely confused.

"You are right, I'm not putting you first, and I will not allow that anymore," Elijah replied. "And to prove it, we're going somewhere, just the two of us."

"Where are we going?"

"Italy, we're going to spend a month on the Amalfi Coast." he said, a soft smile on his face.

"A month?" You asked, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Yes," he nodded, and pressed his lips to the back of your hand. "I've been neglectful, and I need to remind you of how I feel about you.

"Eli, you don't have to do all of this."

"Yes, I do," he replied. "You deserve the world."

He had rented a private plane, and had arranged everything. You were incredibly impressed that he managed to pull it all off in the span of a night.

You sat beside him on the plane, his hand intertwined with yours, and a soft smile on his face. You couldn't help but relax, the last couple of days had been so tense, but you couldn't stay mad at him, and a romantic getaway was exactly what you needed.

As the plane took off, Elijah reached over and brushed your hair out of your face. You lifted the arm rest and cuddled up against him, resting your head on his chest. He held you close, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You missed this, the way he was so attentive, the way he was gentle with you.

"I am sorry, for making you feel second best," he said, his voice low and full of regret.

"I know," you said, reaching up and stroking his cheek. "It's okay, your dedication to your family is part of what I love about you."

You looked up at him and kissed him softly.

"Let's not dwell on the past," you said. "We have a whole month to make new memories."

"I am going to spoil you so much, my love," he said, kissing your nose.

The flight was nearly twelve hours and you immediately fell asleep when the plane leveled out. When you woke up, the sun was starting to set.

Elijah was reading a book, and had his free hand resting on your hip. You smiled, and snuggled closer. He put the book down and looked at you, his eyes soft and full of affection.

"Good morning, or rather evening," he chuckled. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you yawned.

You looked out the window, and saw the city below. It was like something out of a dream, colorful houses all stacked up, the sea sparkling as the sun set.

"Welcome to Positano," he said.

"Elijah," you whispered, awe in your voice.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"It's magical," you gushed.

"Yes, it is."

The plane landed, and a car was waiting. Elijah had rented an entire villa for the two of you. It was stunning, with a view of the ocean, and a private beach.

You walked through the villa, looking at all the art and antiques. It was very much Elijah's taste, and you could see yourself spending a month here.

The moon was out and it cast a soft glow over the sea. Elijah took your hand and the two of you walked down the stairs to the beach.

The sounds of the waves gently lapping on the sand soothed you. You walked down the shoreline, your hands intertwined.

"You didn't have to do all this, you know," you said, leaning against him.

"I know, but I wanted to. I needed to. It was a selfish thing, really," he replied, wrapping his arms around you.

Up ahead you saw something on the beach, it was too dark to make out, but it looked like a bunch of neatly shaped debris.

You walked a little closer, and you could make out the shapes. It was a heart, surrounded by lit candles, and flowers. The words "I love you" written with rose petals on the sand. Suddenly a bunch of twinkle lights were turned on, and the whole scene was lit up.

You turned around to ask Elijah if he had done this, but the words died in your throat. He was kneeling on the ground, a ring box in his hand.

"Y/n," he began, his voice soft and loving.

"What are you doing?" you asked, a bit breathless.

"I should have done this a long time ago," he said. "I should have married you years ago, but I was afraid. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to give you everything you deserve."

"Eli-"

"No, let me finish," he insisted, and continued. "I've spent centuries on this earth, never truly belonging anywhere. Always searching, never finding. Until I found you. My home, my heart, my family."

You were crying, tears streaming down your face. You couldn't really process what was happening, here was the man of your dreams, pouring his heart out, telling you how much he loved you, how much he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you.

"You are my world, my everything. And I want to spend eternity by your side," he said, opening the box and showing you the ring.

The ring was absolutely stunning, a large ruby surrounded by diamonds. It looked antique and must have been worth a fortune.

"I found this ring almost five hundred years ago, right here in Italy. I knew that when I finally found the right person, I would give it to them," he said, smiling up at you.

"You can't be serious," you said, not intending for it to sound as harsh as it did. You were in complete shock.

"I have never been more serious in my entire life," he replied, his voice firm.

"What will your family say?" You asked, worried about Klaus’ reaction.

"Niklaus can go fuck himself," Elijah grinned. "As for the rest of them, they will be thrilled."

You nodded slowly, letting the words sink in.

"This is insane," you whispered, unable to stop staring at the ring.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, looking nervous. "Will you be my wife?"

"Yes," you breathed, and he took your hand and slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, as though it was made for you.

He stood up, and kissed you. You threw your arms around him, your fingers tangling in his hair, kissing him back with every ounce of love you had for him.

"You're my family, you're my home," he whispered, spinning you around. "And I vow, from this day on, you will always come first. I love you."

"I love you too," you murmured, cupping his cheek. "With all my heart."

He pulled you close, kissing you deeply. You lost yourself in his embrace, in the way his hands felt on your body, his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth.

You both stumbled to the villa, tearing each other's clothes off. Your back hit the wall, and Elijah pushed your skirt up. His hands found your thighs and he squeezed the soft flesh, lifting you up, your legs wrapped around his waist. He kissed along your neck, leaving little marks in his wake.

"My fiance," he muttered against the flesh. "My darling love."

"I like the sound of that," you moaned.

"Then you're going to absolutely adore being called my wife," he grinned, moving his lips down to your breasts.

His kisses turned bruising, biting at the flesh of your tits. He was rough with you and you relished it. It was like he was finally unleashing his feelings, letting out all the love he had for you.

You tugged on his hair, bringing his lips back to yours, hungry for his kisses, drunk off of his affection.

"Bed, Eli," you murmured, but instead, he picked you up and carried you into the shower.

He set you on your feet and turned the water on.

"We are covered in sand," he grinned.

The steam was rising as the water heated up, and the moment it was hot enough Elijah pulled you in with him. You squealed as the warm water washed over you, cleaning you off.

The water was the perfect temperature, a delicious warmth, but not as delicious as the feeling of him pressing into you, pinning your front against the tile.

He reached up, taking your hands and pinning them to the tile wall.

"Keep your hands here," he commanded, pressing a kiss to the back of one.

You nodded, a small moan escaping your lips, he kissed his way down your back. He ran his tongue down the length of your spine. Soft and gentle, teasing over the top of your ass. His hands ran over your legs, and he bent you slightly, opening your cheeks to reveal the most intimate part of you.

"Beautiful," he murmured, before lapping at you.

Your knees nearly buckled as he pressed his face into your flesh. His hands spread your cheeks wide as his tongue dipped into your core. The way his mouth touched every part of you left you dizzy with need. Your thighs clenched, your clit pulsing, ready to be touched.

But you did what he told you, and kept your hands above your head. The porcelain felt cool on your heated skin and he tugged you closer, your hands moving further down as your body was pulled back. His tongue darted into your center, teasing around your hole, his saliva coating you, trailing up, finding your puckered hole, and slowly circling the muscle.

"Elijah," you whimpered, gasping as his tongue worked you open.

He slipped a finger into your dripping cunt, working it inside, pulling it out and sliding it up, moving to replace his tongue on your tight entrance. He swirled around your asshole before pushing the pad of his finger into your tight heat, his mouth sucking on your ass, soft moans escaping him, vibrating against your flesh.

You struggled to keep yourself upright, your hands against the wall, bracing yourself, wiggling against him. The warm water of the shower cascading over you, the sensations were too much and not enough. You were panting, your head tilted back, eyes closed, as you were overwhelmed by his touch.

He pulled back and stood up, kissing along the back of your neck, he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you close.

"Do you want more, sweetheart?" He murmured in your ear, his voice low and seductive.

"Yes," you breathed, arching against him.

His cock was hard, trapped between the two of you. You ground against him, rubbing yourself on his length, desperate for the friction.

"How much more?" He asked, a smirk in his voice.

"All of it," you said.

"Right here, up against the shower wall?"

"Yes, Elijah, please," you begged.

He hummed and reached between the two of you, taking his length and teasing your core with it. He loved making you beg for him, and he loved hearing the desperation in your voice. But you were now to be his wife, and he was going to take care of you.

He eased himself into your center, groaning at the tightness of you, how good it felt to be surrounded by your warmth. You moaned as he pressed inside of you, the thickness of his cock filling you.

He placed his hands on top of yours against the wall, intertwining your fingers.

"I love you," he murmured, his hips moving against you.

"I love you," you moaned, rocking your hips with him.

He took his time with you, savoring the feeling of your body. He had almost lost you, and he needed to remind you how much you meant to him, how he cherished you.

His slow, languid movements were torture, the heat building inside of you, his thick cock rubbing every inch of your pussy. You moved together, the two of you in sync.

Your orgasm started to build, a slow burn deep within. You had never been so turned on, or so loved, the way he held you, the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

"That's it, baby, come for me," he encouraged, his hips picking up the pace.

He could feel the change, and he knew exactly how to push you over the edge. His thrusts became harder, more purposeful. His lips found the sensitive spot on your neck, and he sucked the tender flesh.

Your walls clenched and you fell apart, coming undone for him, moaning his name, over and over. He smiled against your skin, he could stay buried inside of you forever, and never tire of the way you made him feel.

He turned off the shower and pulled you to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his body on top of yours.

"I can't wait to make love to you every day, for the rest of our lives," he smiled.

"That's a long time, Eli," you teased.

"Not long enough," he smirked.

He took your legs and spread them, kneeling between them. He guided his length into you, and pushed all the way in.

He groaned, loving the way your body opened up to him, the way you felt like home.

"Elijah," you gasped, your hands reaching for him, needing to touch him.

"I love the way you say my name," he smiled, leaning down and kissing you, his tongue licking into your mouth.

He rocked into you, slowly, the feeling of you was addictive. You were his drug and he would never be able to get enough of you. He pictured all the ways he would make love to you, the ways he would please you, worship you.

"My beautiful girl," he groaned, his body on fire, his desire burning, and it only fueled his need.

His hips snapped against yours, and you gripped the sheets, the pleasure coursing through you. Another orgasm was building, the feeling of him deep inside of you, the way he looked at you with such love.

"Come with me, my love," he pleaded, his hand moving between the two of you, finding your clit, his fingers gently rubbing the bundle of nerves.

He was so close, and he was determined to have you come with him, to fall apart for him, together.

You whimpered and moaned, your hips lifting to meet his, chasing the feeling, knowing it was so close. He pressed his lips to yours, and the dam broke, crashing over the both of you.

You came together, moaning, his cock twitching as he emptied inside of you, your walls clenching and milking him, taking everything he had to offer.

You collapsed, boneless, spent, completely and utterly satisfied. He smiled at the sight of you, blissed out and glowing, your hair wet and splayed out over the pillows. . He had never seen anything so beautiful in his entire life.

He laid down next to you, making sure to keep you close. You curled into his chest, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight.

"So, tell me more about this wedding of ours," you grinned, holding your hand up to look at your ring.

"I'll arrange everything, don't you worry about a thing," he said softly, nuzzling your neck.

"Is that so? I don't get any input?" you teased, turning to look at him, your lips brushing against his.

"I mean, you can make suggestions, if you'd like," he smirked, his hand running along the curve of your hip.

"Hmm, well, I do think we should get married in Positano," you smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"It’s perfect here, isn't it?" he mused, a soft smile on his lips.

"I want it to be a small wedding," you said, tracing patterns on his chest. "Family and close friends only."

"Of course," he replied. "I want it to be something just for us."

The two of you talked until the early morning, dreaming up your future together, and making plans for your wedding. It would be a simple affair, a celebration of your love, in a beautiful location, with the people who cared about the two of you the most.

The month spent in Italy was something out of a dream, the days filled with long walks on the beach, picnics in the gardens, and nights filled with dancing and drinking. You made love in the most luxurious beds, and in the most unorthodox places, including the rooftop patio one night. You even made it a bit of a game, seeing who could find the best spots to fuck in. Elijah always won, and was very proud of himself, you loved seeing him so carefree, so happy.

There was no talk of his family or what was going on at home. It was like you were in your own little world, just the two of you. But it was time to return home, the news of your engagement was something you both wanted to share in person.

When you entered the compound, Hope came running up to her favorite uncle, Elijah scooped her up in his arms and spun her around.

"Uncle ‘lijah! Auntie y/n you're home!" she grinned, and you smiled at her, ruffling her hair.

"Have you been behaving for your mother?" Elijah asked, carrying her towards the courtyard, letting her tell you both all about what she had been up to while you were away.

"I see the trip did you both some good," Klaus said, walking towards the three of you. His eyes darted to the ring on your finger, the red ruby catching the light. "Is that what I think it is?"

"What is?" Hope asked, looking confused.

"I asked aunt y/n to marry me," Elijah told Hope, smiling sweetly at her.

"You did?" She exclaimed, her eyes wide.

"Yes," you nodded, laughing at the excitement.

Hope hugged Elijah tightly, and Klaus looked at his brother, a hint of a smile on his lips. The sight of his daughter so happy warmed his heart.

"Well, I wish you both every bit of happiness," he said, giving you a tight smile.

"Thank you," you replied, knowing his words were sincere and it was probably the most enthusiastic response you would ever get from him. It was progress and that was enough for you.

Elijah put Hope down, and she took off running, the news of your engagement clearly something she was very excited about. You could hear her yelling the news as she ran through the compound. Rebekah was the first to appear, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Congratulations!" She beamed, and you hugged her back, her enthusiasm contagious. "I better be a bridesmaid."

The rest of the Mikaelson's slowly came and offered their congratulations. Hayley and Freya both hugged you, Marcel shook Elijah's hand and Kol gave you a warm smile. Hope was thrilled, talking a mile a minute about all the ways she was going to help with the wedding.

"Can I be a bridesmaid?" she asked, her cute little face pleading.

You knelt down so you were at her level, taking her hand. "How about something even more special? No one else at the wedding is going to have such an important job."

"What is it?" She asked, her face completely in awe.

"Will you be my flower girl?"

She squealed and jumped into your arms, squeezing you tight. "Really? Yes! I'd love to!"

You laughed and hugged her back.

Elijah watched the scene, a warmth in his chest. You were his family, his home, the missing piece that had made him whole. He had finally found the love he had been searching for.

You caught him staring, and walked over to him, his arm wrapping around your waist. He kissed the side of your head and let out a contented sigh. You were everything he ever wanted and so much more.

"I can't wait to call you my wife," he smiled.

"Neither can I," you said, your lips meeting his, sealing the promise, always and forever.

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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pottersfia · 6 months

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more grumpy x sunshine theo x hufflepuff!reader please! fluff, but if you wanna add a lil angst in it too! reader is super sweet and everyone loves her (including the slytherine group who took her under their wing. i don’t have anything super specific, but i love your writing and need more of this trope. 🥹 maybe he’s grumpy towards everyone except her. anything haha!

a/n: theo is a little out of character here in my opinion buttttt him and the afraid of commitment trope just makes sense to me and it’s ok to be delulu 🫶🏾

word count: 927

you and theodore nott had interesting relationship. the slytherin boy had asked you out on a date and you gladly accepted. your time together went well, but instead of having the usual second and third dates, the two of you casually hung out together.

theodore's friends did not mind at all. they liked having you around. not only were you one of the few hufflepuffs who didn't negatively stereotype slytherins, but when you were around theodore was less grumpy and mean. they all knew he had crazy feelings for you.

this fact was less obvious to you, however. theodore was known for his nonchalant, grumpy nature and you were aware, but surely it would change with a girl he liked? you began to doubt that he even liked you after the date.

"maybe he just wants to be friends. i don't know what i did wrong." you grumbled to pansy. she gave you a puzzled look. you were sat with her in the slytherin common room at a friday night party.

"are you joking? he definitely likes you. he's just not that good at expressing his feelings." she motions over to where theodore was standing. across the common room, past the crowd of students was theodore, draco, and blaise. as soon as you turned your head to look in his direction your eyes met. you gave him a smile and a small wave which he responded to with a slight nod and brief tight lipped smirk back. he then turned back to his friends. you rolled your eyes.

"y/n he has been staring at you this entire time!" pansy said.

"if he actually likes me he needs to make it more obvious."

the two of your drift off in conversation about school, music, and eventually the likelihood of your classmates becoming rich and famous. but now you were thirsty. you excused yourself and stood up to grab yourself a drink.

a few boys you never talked to were standing around the drinks but you didn't mind. you would get something and quickly go back to pansy. you smiled at one of the boys who looked at you as you approached. you grabbed a can and began to make your way back until he spoke up.

"y/n?" he said which caught you off guard.

"huh?" you blinked blankly at him.

"y/n, right? i'm andrew. from divination." he smiled at you.

"oh. oh! andrew, hi." you smiled as you recognized your classmate. "sorry, you look so different out of your uniform."

"yeah, you too. you look incredible." he said, looking you up and down.

"thanks." you awkwardly laughed.

your brief greeting turned into a full on conversation which theodore, who was watching right next to you, did not enjoy.

"y/n." you paused your conversation and abruptly looked up to the side of you to see theodore. you tried to hold back a smile.

"hi theo." you replied. he gave you a small smile then looked past you at andrew.

"i need to talk to you." he said looking back at you. you tilted your head a little surprised and unsure what he wanted to talk about, but you kindly looked back at andrew.

"i'll see you later?" you said. he smiled and nodded. you walked away with theodore, missing the disgusted look he gave andrew.

the two of you settled in a corner on the opposite side of the common room. you leaned against the wall and looked up at him. all he did was give you another smile and place his hand on cheek.

"you're so pretty, y/n." his words are soft and you feel your knees practically go weak, but where was this coming from?

"theo.." you broke eye contact making him lift your head to look back at him. "what did you want to talk about?" you ask.

"i just wanted you to myself." he shrugged. you furrowed your eyebrows.

"stop being mean." you grab his hand and lower it off of you.

"what are you talking about?" he's shocked at your words, you never sound this serious.

"do you actually like me?" you ask him. he stays quiet. "it's frustrating because i thought our date went really well but i don't know what we are right now."

"it did go well." he replied.

"so now what, theo?" he's quiet again. his silence is loud to you. in your head it's obvious that he has no interest in being with you, so why entertain him? you scoff and walk again, hearing him call out your name as you exit the common room.

"y/n! stop, please." he caught up to you and you turned around to him. "i like you. a lot. i want to be with you but i don't think i'm relationship material."

"what do you mean?" you ask him.

"you should be with someone that can guarantee you a good relationship. i don’t know if i’m that person.” you frown at his words. theodore was had a reputation for being with multiple girls and coming off as somewhat rude but you saw more than that in him. the entire time you’ve known each other he’s treated you better than anyone ever has.

“i want to be with you, theo. no one else.” you say to him.

“are you sure?” he asks. you grab onto the collar of his shirt and pull him closer, giving him a kiss which he gladly reciprocates.

“very sure.” you say as you slightly pull apart, just for him to kiss you once again.

#theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott fluff #theodore nott fluff #theo nott x y/n #slytherin boys

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conlaluce · 3 months

Text

thinking about diluc and kaeya each having their own complicated relationship with religion. crepus is a devout believer of the anemo archon, to me, so he definitely took his kids with him to mass at the cathedral, if not every sunday then at least once or twice a month.

diluc learned to pray from his father; learned to give thanks to the god who gave this city its freedom, the god who blesses them with gentle weather and bountiful lands and protects them from tyranny. he believes wholly and truly in the anemo archon's grace; his father does, after all, and everyone says barbatos is great and benevolent and kind and helped found the nation he loves so dearly.

kaeya doesn't like mass very much, but he never says so. it makes him uncomfortable, especially in the beginning, worshipping one of the gods that his homeland has reviled - but he wants to fit in, he doesn't want to lose his place here. and surely, surely, it would be a dead giveaway to his "true" allegiances if he refused to pray to mondstadt's god. so kaeya closes his eyes and pretends to pray, because better this than losing another home. (better this than failing his mission, than failing in his duty to khaenri'ah.)

and then, diluc's 18th birthday passes. ursa the drake attacks. crepus dies. diluc leaves mondstadt. kaeya is left, alone, the only ragnvindr left (except there aren't any, really, because he isn't a ragnvindr anymore, he isn't allowed to be.)

the first time diluc's vision starts to go out, the light flickering and fading and dying, kaeya prays. for the first time, he doesn't pretend, he doesn't close his eyes and clasp his hands together just for show - he prays.

please. please. let diluc live. please don't let him die. he can't die. i know you hate me, but you can't let him die, he's one of yours, isn't he? he's a child of mondstadt. he has to stay alive. save him, please, please-

(i can't lose him too)

diluc's vision never does go out all the way. it always retains its light, even if only slightly. maybe the anemo archon really did protect him. maybe barbatos answered kaeya's prayers.

sometimes, when diluc's vision is weak, kaeya prays. surely, barbatos will at least grant him this. surely, barbatos wouldn't be opposed to keeping a child of mondstadt safe.

when diluc finally comes back home, kaeya closes his eyes and whispers a quiet thanks to his god.

diluc, on the other hand, no longer prays. hasn't, since that day.

he doesn't think he deserves to.

kaeya said something, that night, about khaenri'ans being sinners. a people who have been condemned by the gods themselves for their sins. he said it so viciously, so bitterly, so sincerely. like he believed it, wholly and truly.

if you're a sinner, then what am i?

kinslayer. a failure of a knight. a man who could not save anyone when it mattered most, who raised a blade to his own family. killer of his own father, and nearly his brother, too. he has learned to kill without feeling the slightest hint of remorse, to steal and torture and deceive. he has committed so many atrocities he can no longer count them all. his sins are far worse than kaeya's have ever been, will ever be.

if you're a sinner, then so am i.

diluc doesn't pray anymore. he's a little scared to.

and besides, no gods would save him now, would they?

not with all the blood on his hands.

some time after his return to mondstadt, diluc starts attending mass again. every sunday, he enters the cathedral with the rest of the crowd, chooses a quiet spot in the back, and waits for the service to begin.

he doesn't pray.

when everyone else's heads are bowed together in prayer, diluc lowers his head to show respect, but his eyes are open. his hands lie still in his lap. he stares at the wood of the pews in front of him as the sister leading the service offers words of thanks to barbatos. he does not pray.

does he even deserve to ask anything of the gods now?

and then diluc finds out the annoying bard that frequents his tavern is actually a god. is actually barbatos. not just any god - his god.

his god trusts him to keep his human guise a secret. his god tolerates him enough to become a regular at his tavern and beg him for freebies.

okay. this is fine.

(vaguely, diluc wonders if it is heresy to say no when your god asks you for something. repeatedly. but their dynamic has been like this for months before venti's true identity was revealed, and the god has shown no indication of wanting to change that. so, for now, diluc will treat him the same as he always has.)

sometimes, he thinks about asking. asking venti - asking barbatos - if he would forgive diluc of his sins. if he deserves to be forgiven.

he never does ask.

#diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #genshin impact #religion #religious themes #religious trauma question mark?#venti #barbatos

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missxwrites · 7 months

Text

new beginnings - tom kazansky

tom 'iceman' kazansky x reader

Summary: Tom finds his pregnant wife in the heart of their shared home, the sight of her simply takes his breath away. Word count: 1,120+ Warnings: fluuuufffff, SERIOUSLY FLUFFY SOFT TOM, pregnancy, afab!reader (still working on gender neutral tone as best I can), assumptions about size (I play into the plus size side of things because I am plus size, but there's no direct mention), no use of y/n (just she/her pronouns) A/N: This is only rough edited by myself, I'm so sorry for any mistakes. (Im rusty as f*ck at fic writing) I've had this fic in my back pocket for months, please enjoy all the fluff. I'm head over heels for val kilmer as a person, and I'm well aware that the gif is not from Top Gun... this is however an aged up version of Commander Kazansky (;

Tom wasn't typically a man of many words, even after Top Gun and becoming a commander... He was still on track to becoming an admiral in a couple years and his stoic ice-cold exterior has carried him far in the Navy. No, there wasn't much that could get in his way now.

Except for her.

She melted his every icy edge. Especially now that she's 7 months pregnant with his baby. The way she waddled around the sizable estate that he purchased the year they got married. It'd been nearly 7 years since that beautiful day, but Tom and his wife decided to focus on their separate careers before committing to living with little ones under foot. He was nearing his mid-to-late 30's now and with his career excelling, his mind constantly settled on imagining what her beautiful features would be like mixed with his.

Would they get his ice-like stare or her warm bright irises that see right through to his soul? Would they get his pin straight hair that stuck up in all the wrong places or her beautiful, textured hair that fell beautifully in every light?

His mind would run rampant every time he looked at her, his eyes never failing to trail up and down her whole figure. He would linger on her face, taking in how absolutely mesmerizing she was in the pregnancy glow before darting down to her ever-changing belly. It was very noticeable now, and the way she braced the underside of the bump softened his stare every time. Even through the literal growing pains of making a human, she looked ethereal. He subconsciously pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. Tom was fully convinced that she could never be more beautiful than she was in this exact moment.

With a warm but soft chuckle under his breath, he stood slowly and made his way over to her. The book she'd been perusing at the kitchen counter happened to be a cookbook he got her for Christmas in the early years of their relationship. He'd assumed she must be craving something specific by the way she quickly flipped through the pages. He placed his hands over the tops of her shoulders, giving a gentle rub to the tense muscles in her shoulder blades and leaned in to kiss her neck. The smell of her conditioner and body wash from her shower this morning is almost intoxicating. His body was warm, causing her to lean back on his chest.

"You're absolutely radiant dear," Tom stated, a smile forming across his lips. "And absolutely distracting..." He hasn't been able to take his eyes off her since she entered the kitchen adjacent to the doors of his office. He'd been trying to get through some paperwork before finding her to ask what you might want for lunch as she graced her way into the heart of their shared home.

She was one of the only women that could ever truly take his breath away, though many tried. Even in a moment like this... with his wedding band heavy on her finger and growing the fruit of his love for her in her tummy, he still had to remind himself to breathe.

His large arms made their way down her body until they gently embraced her and her bump. He supported her belly gently, the same way the two had learned in the parenting classes Tom insisted on attending once she confirmed her pregnancy. The soft hum that escaped her throat told him that she needed this. Her eyes fluttered closed as he stood there, swaying gently with her in his arms.

“Blueberry.” Was the only thing that snapped the quiet of the moment between the two of them. Her words were soft in his ears. Tom raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he leaned forward to place his chin on her shoulder. The pages of the cookbook landed on a muffin recipe that had been dog-eared and made enough times to sport the stains of baking chaos.

Another low chuckle reverberated through his chest. “Cravings?” Tom placed another gentle kiss on her neck as he slowly released his childbearing wife to turn to the refrigerator behind him. This recipe was one he was familiar with, having made it several times over the years. He grabbed out the bowl of blueberries, buttermilk, butter and eggs while his wife gathered the remaining dry ingredients.

A quiet melodic sound filled the kitchen as Tom watched his wife pull up the large glass bowl from the cabinet. The smile spread across his face as he recognized their wedding song falling from her lips. “I wanna know what love is…”

Tom set the cold ingredients out on the counter, crossing the kitchen swiftly to pull her back into his arms. “I want you to show me…” He whispered to her, a hum parting his lips as he twirled her around slowly in the afternoon light of their kitchen. He mirrored her radiant smile as they slowly swayed together, her baby bump separating them a little more than usual but neither of them cared.

After enjoying the embrace of her husband, Tom’s wife pushed him away gently as she resumed making the muffins lil’ kazansky was craving so badly. The blonde commander only laughed as he kissed her hand before parting their embrace. He too busied himself making muffins again wordlessly as he reached into the bottom drawer of the oven. Grabbing out the old muffin tin, he paused to preheat the oven as he lingered there for a moment.

Tom’s hand immediately found his wife’s lower back as he brought the tin over to the island countertop, using the other to place the white liners in each cup. A devious giggle caught his attention and before he could even blink, she’d managed to touch his nose with a flour-covered hand. His steely eyes closed suddenly as she swiped at his face, unable to hide the slow grin that parted his lips as he dipped his own hand into the bowl of flour.

He laughed as he pulled her back from the counter slightly, his flour covered hand landing gently over the top of her baby bump. The white handprint was stark on her dark dress. The gasp that escaped from the woman in his arms only made him laugh harder as she rolled her eyes and shook her head at her husband’s antics.

"What am I going to do with you, Thomas Kazansky? ” She said exasperatedly despite a smile growing on her face.

“Love me.” He said simply, his eyes gazing deeply into hers as he pulled her in close again. “And make muffins with me forever.” She laughed, her heart full, as she accepted his proposal.

#tom kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky x reader #iceman x reader #tom kazansky #tom iceman kazansky #iceman #top gun iceman #top gun #top gun maverick #tom kazansky x pregnant!reader #fluff #val kilmer #pregnant reader

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itaehynz · 28 days

Note

HII BABY! ahem SOOO for the event i’d like to request for “welcome to the movies”, the movie batman BUTTTTT villain catwoman!reader x CHOI YEONJUN . HEAR ME OUTTTTUH (a little plot but mostly smut ykyk 😇)

ONE NIGHT ONLY.

pairing: batman!yeonjun x catwoman!reader.

genre: forbidden love, superhero x villain au, smut, a little angst & fluff.

word count: 4.4k

warnings: profanity, argument before intercourse, yeonjun and reader are both dicks in the beginning, mention of killing, includes an explicit sex scene; harddom!yeonjun at first, sub!reader, big dick jun implied (it’s real), public sex, oral (both receiving), cunnilingus, fingering, dacryphilia, marking, hair pulling, throatfucking, choking, overstimulation, spanking, unprotected sex, squirting, nipple play, breeding, degrading + praising, soft sex toward the end (but not for long), kissing, spitting, breeding kink, name-calling; pretty/pretty girl, good girl, gorgeous, slut, whore, baby.

“Pretty girls like you like to get fucked in alleys? That's new.”

ni’s notes; the event masterlist is coming soon but here it is!! i hope you enjoy this fic, my love. also thank you to my proofreading friend, if you see this, ily babe. happy reading my lovelies! 💕

SPECIAL MASTERLIST!

With the arrival of night comes danger—dangers this city has been dealing with for years on end, dangers caused by you. And, of course, Batman is always the one to the rescue. He has always been their superhero, the person they can always count on. But not anymore. A rumor has begun. A rumor you started. A rumor to ruin his reputation.

You two have been secretly meeting at night to avoid being seen by others. This is all because of him - he's the one who made this rule. He's the kind of man who always gets what he wants and never takes no for an answer. However, the rumor that the two of you are in a committed relationship, which isn’t true, has officially ruined his reputation. But where's the fun in telling the truth?

It doesn't matter how much you love him; you love to toy with him even more. Getting under his skin, and ridiculing him, makes you feel giddy. The knowledge of how angry you could make him with a simple action. The adrenaline hurries through your veins at the thought.

But that's before you hear something rustle behind you. You think it could be a random citizen, so you simply ignore it, until your mouth is covered by a black leather glove.

“Stay quiet,” the voice says. It’s deep and rich. You recognize the voice—actually, you know it. It’s him.

The man who never denies himself pleasure, the man who always knows what he wants. The man goes by two names, Batman or as you’d like to call him, Choi Yeonjun.

When he appears behind you, you don't gasp or panic. You knew he was coming sooner or later. Once the news spread, you knew he'd have no choice but to come to you. Eventually, he'd try to figure out who spread the word, only to be led back to you. Besides his assistant, nobody knows about the two of you, except you and him.

Soon, he uncovers your mouth and begins leading you to god knows where; however, you're not complaining. This is exactly what you wanted. You wanted him to seethe with anger. You truly looked forward to hearing from him, whatever he had to say. Every time you two have a conversation, it almost always ends with sex. This time should be no different.

He pulls you into a dark alleyway, a blind spot away from the citizens of Gotham. "Tell me," he says, bringing a finger to his temple and inhaling deeply. "Tell me what led you to this point, Y/n."

To your dismay, it's as if every reason you had has been wiped from your memory entirely. Under his mask, you see his eyes piercing into yours. You find yourself feeling more intimidated as you look away, making an effort to avoid his intense gaze.

He grasps your face firmly, bringing your eyes back to his. After doing so, he takes his mask off, throwing it somewhere. What you're now faced with is an expression you’ve never seen before. He’s furious. His eyebrows furrowed and a firm wrinkle was prominent in the center of his forehead.

He looks at you with raised brows, expectant. Expecting a reasonable answer from you, not whatever random bullshit you can think of.

“I wanted to see if I mattered to you,” you draw in a large breath, “If we mattered to you.” He looks at you dumbfounded, has he not been the best he could be to you? What more could you want from him? He scoffs, “You’re joking, right?” he questions while looking at you, once again, expecting an answer.

You laugh, “Of course I am! Why would I care about how much I mean to you? You're Batman, you don't care about how others feel about you,” you add, rolling your eyes in a joking manner. He scoffs at your ability to joke in situations like this, soon falling into a small laughter. Withdrawing his hand slowly, slapping your cheek twice in a ridiculing manner.

He seems completely disinterested in continuing the conversation, as your responses didn't give him anything to engage in. He's convinced that you started the rumor because if not you, then who else?

Deciding not to think about it any further, he runs a hand through his hair before walking away from you. You grab for your mask, taking it off before calling out to him. As you call out to him, he pauses in his tracks before turning his head in your direction with a raised eyebrow.

“I just,” you murmur, rolling your eyes once again. “I just wanted to get a rise out of you. I admit, it was a stupid way to do it but I just wanted to have a little fun, that’s all.” He looks at you once again, amazed by your reasoning. He’s never found anything more stupid than that.

"Are you serious?" is all he says. The more you think about it, your reasoning for doing this is pretty dumb. Not only does it ruin his reputation because it's said that he's dating the city's worst villain, but it also ruins yours. Obviously, your reputation was trashed the moment you started this job, but now it's worse than it was before.

You simply nod at his words as he scoffs for the nth time, shocked by how far you've gone. You know how hard he's worked to get into his position, and the fact that you were able to break all that down with a simple news article baffles him, to say the least.

“I should fucking kill you.” He threatens, scowling at you. You’re taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor as the distance between the two of you gets smaller and smaller. “What?” you question, already knowing that he’s fuming. This is your way of trying to get more of a rise out of him. You trust yourself and know what you're doing, he wouldn't dare to kill you… right?

“First, you ruin my reputation and now you're standing here acting like you’re an innocent ass fucking fool, acting as if you don't know why I’m here,” he pauses, seeming as if he wants to hear your side. “Yeonjun, I’m the fool? If anything-” “Yes! You are! So, don't even try to go there with me, Y/n. You need to fucking learn your place and keep our business in between us. Stop doing stupid shit to get a rise out of me because I already knew what you were doing once that dumb excuse came out of your mouth.”

“I need to learn my place?” you scoff lightly, beginning to walk closer to him. “You should be the last person talking about learning their place. You’ve never known yours! You're always intruding into someone’s life and trying to fuck things up for everyone. You’ve never known your place, and now you're shocked when someone else doesn't know theirs? Well lucky for you, I’ve had a great fucking teacher! So since you wanna talk big, why don't you show me what my place is, huh? Show me exactly what my fucking place in this world is, Choi Yeonjun.”

Those words were all he needed. Just like you needed to provoke a reaction from him, he needed you to say those few words. The moments it took for your heart to beat were the few seconds he needed to get you right where he wanted you.

He is aware that you can be a brat sometimes; that's for sure. However, this time was extreme. Not only did you argue with him, but you also kept giving him illogical reasons, even after he explicitly told you not to.

If you wanted him to fuck you, why not just say so? You went as far as revealing the relationship between the two of you, and just for some dick? Hysterical. Absolutely fucking ridiculous, is what he thinks.

“You’re just a fucking whore, aren't you?” He says, venom creeping its way into his voice. His cape drops as he makes his way to you, eyes blown out with lust and a tinge of fury. He almost laughs at the way your face shows pure worry, but your eyes say otherwise.

You're almost caught off guard by his sudden switch-up, but what can you say? You like how he’s acting. You like the way his calloused hands feel against your skin, the way his unoccupied hand feels against the flesh of your ass. Grabbing weighty amounts of your flesh and groping it roughly, he has no intention of being soft with you but maybe, just maybe you can change his way of thinking.

“You like it when I’m rough with you, huh? You like it when I treat you like shit—don’t you?” he growls softly in your ear, you can’t deny that. The pleasure you gain from arguing with him for no logical reason is immense. You know you should feel guilty, but the feeling of his hands on your body takes away all the guilt you’ve ever had.

He removes his hand from your face, both hands now resting on the apple of your ass. He rubs around it softly, reminding himself what belongs to him. “Hm. This is a pretty suit, are you sure this is the same as the others?” He whispers, kissing from your lips to the sweet spot of your neck. You hum in affirmation, causing him to put a stop to his ministrations. “Words, Y/n,” he taps your cheek with two fingers softly. “Yes, it is.” He hums, continuing to kiss in the same spot he was before.

You feel his hands gripping roughly at your flesh once more, soon hearing a tear. You jump in shock, grabbing at his arms for some sort of balance. He coos in your ear, telling you to stay quiet once again. You feel his hands spread your legs further, right before he presses a firm thigh between them.

“Pretty girls like you like to get fucked in alleys? That's new.” He brushes his knee past your tender clit, emitting a soft moan from you. His soft kisses soon turn to bites, his finger now rubbing back and forth past your slit. He brings his other hand back around to stretch the tear of your suit, slapping your clit lightly. You gasp in satisfaction, causing him to wrap a hand around your mouth.

“I told you to be quiet, didn't I?” He questions, not expecting an answer. He runs a finger past your clit, rubbing small but rough circles into it with his thumb. His finger slightly teases your slit, going in and out to build the stimulation within you. His finger enters you in a swift motion, eliciting a whiny moan from you and into his palm.

He kisses your forehead softly, beginning to pump his finger faster before adding one more. You cringe at the stretch but soon adjust to it, squirming in pleasure. He tightens his hold on you, pushing your stomach down which does nothing but increase your volume.

“You hear those sounds, baby? Those beautiful, dirty sounds coming from you? Those are the sounds of a whore.” he says, slapping a hand on your clit once more. You whimper into his palm, watching as he smirks at the sounds coming from your cunt. He bites back a chuckle, seeing how easily he can have you writhing in the palm of his hand.

He draws his fingers from your soaking cunt and brings them to his mouth. He looks at you as he does so, wrapping his tongue around the digits as he flutters his eyes shut in delight. “Such a dirty mouth, yet you're so sweet.” He pulls his fingers from his mouth before lowering himself down to your cunt, humming in adoration once he’s faced with your wetness. “Look how pretty she is, so wet—so perfect. You have such a pretty pussy, baby,” he says, bringing an agonizingly slow stripe of saliva to your cunt.

“You still wanna do this here? Or would you prefer to go back home?” he asks, pausing his actions. “N-no, please, this is fine, Jun.” He smiles at your desperation, chuckling softly to himself before licking another long stripe up your cunt. His hands grip your thighs roughly, spreading your legs more than before for better access. Before doing anything else, you feel his hands reach up your chest to tear another hole in your suit. He moves the fabric aside to release your perky tits from their enclosure, rolling one between his fingers.

You moan quietly, to abide by his rules. He flicks your clit with his tongue, keeping your thighs apart with his free hand. He laps at your clit, wrapping his pretty lips around your sensitive bud. He relishes in the taste of your juices, sucking at your cunt as if his life depends on it. Your moan increases in volume, causing him to hum into you. He watches you writhe in pleasure as he inserts two fingers, watching every pleasure-felt expression that appears on your face.

You begin gripping his hair, pulling at the brown locks as you roughly ride his nose. He groans at the feeling, fluttering his eyes closed in pleasure. He feels his pants getting tighter as your pretty moans fill his ears and shoot straight to his cock.

You feel your orgasm creeping up on you as he continuously moans into your squelching cunt. With a plan in mind, you tug his head away from your clit. He looks up at you, dumbfounded. He's confused as to why you did that before seeing you drop to your knees. He watches you pull down his pants, releasing his cock from his slacks. He groans in pleasure, bucking his hips toward your face frantically.

You lick at the tip of his cock, jerking the rest of him off. He watches you with lust-filled eyes, bringing his hand to your face. You melt into his palm, looking back up at him with doe eyes. His breath quivers as you wrap your lips around his tip, licking at his leaking tip. You swallow the drops of precum before licking at his slit once more, watching as he bites his lip in attempt to contain his moans.

You chuckle, “It’s so pretty, Yeonjunie,” you mutter, loud enough for him to hear. You watch his hips buck upward in pleasure as you begin to hold his waist, preventing him from doing it again. He moans at the restriction, watching as you finally take all of him in your mouth. For some sort of stability, he grips your hair in his fist. He gains control over your throat as he bobs your head back and forth on his cock, seeing how you easily give in to him. He closes his eyes, stalling your head and fucking himself down your throat.

You grip his hips tighter, allowing him all the relief he needs as he fucks your throat. “F-fuck, baby… yeah, j-just like that, fuck, yes,” he moans, bucking his hips into your mouth. The noises coming from the alley would induce any type of curiosity in a person who just so happens to be passing by—the lewd sounds coming from your throat as he moans above you. The pretty noises coming from him as he shoves all of his length down your throat makes wetness form between your thighs, pooling at your entrance.

As you continue to let him fuck your throat, you reach down and rub rough circles into your clit. He opens his eyes for a split second to see how you’re occupying yourself and sees one of your hands away from his hip. Even though he feels himself nearing his orgasm, he yanks your hair to pull you away from his cock. He watches drool leave your lips as you stare up at him, breathing heavily and jaw nearly slacking.

He pulls you up by your hair, forcing you around to press you against the concrete wall. “You thought you were gonna get away with touching yourself? You thought I wouldn't catch you?” He rubs the soft flesh of your ass, tearing the rest of the bottom half of your suit off. “Look at you, baby. So pretty and wet, just for me.” He whispers in your ear, landing a firm slap on one of your asscheeks.

Watching as you wince, he soothes the pain with a soft knead into your flesh. It doesn't last long as he lands another one, telling you; “This is for lying in my face,” Another one. “This is for telling the press our business,” Another slap. “And, this? This is trying to make me look like a fucking fool,” Another one. “This one is for touching yourself without my permission, acting out, and all those times you treated me like I was a fucking joke; laughing in my face, lying to me, creating bullshit excuses for your actions, and thinking everything is a fucking game.” He raises his hand higher, before landing a harsh and rough slap on your ass once more.

You feel tears rolling down your face as he coos into your ear, kissing your neck and rubbing the bruising flesh. “Aw, my poor baby. You’ll be okay, just don't act like this again, okay?” He says, wiping your tears with his free hand. He kisses you one last time before pulling away to line himself up with your cunt. “Look at this,” he smiles to himself. “Doing all this crying, just to find out—you’re getting off on this shit, what a fucking slut.” He chuckles once more, inserting himself carefully.

You moan at the way he hits your sweet spot almost immediately, feeling his hand creep up to your breast. He pulls you against his chest by your throat, wrapping a firm hand around it. You watch him gather his spit in his mouth before telling you, “Open.” With quickness, you open your mouth as the spit drops from his to yours. “Swallow it,” he whispers, watching you carefully. You stare up at him, swallowing the spit just as he told you to. He smirks, kissing down your neck. He slowly starts fucking into you, pulling at your nipple between his fingers.

A moan erupts from your throat, slowly feeling a bit of overstimulation overtake you. You feel his pace slowly but surely pick up in speed, his pace becoming unrelenting. You feel his arm wrap around your torso to stop your squirming, his grasp tightening the more you move. You hear him groan in your ear along with the soft slapping emitting from your ass. His arm that was once wrapped around you is now creeping down to play with your clit, rubbing your bud in a circular motion.

“H-hah— fuck, keep—keep going, shit,” you moan, putting a hand over his. He kisses your neck once more, tilting your head back to rest on his shoulder. “You're so, fuck, so fucking gorgeous.”

He goes from kissing to sucking purple and blue splotches on your neck, making you moan directly into his ear. The moan seems to spur him on as his pace somehow picks up. You feel yourself teetering over the edge as you claw your nails into his arm, causing him to bite down on the sweet spot of your neck.

The bite itself emits a loud moan from you, his freakish pace adding to it. He feels you clench around him, clawing into your hip. “You gonna cum f’me? Go ahead, baby. Let it all go, I know you need it.” His words bring you over the edge as you seem to cum on his command. But that doesn't stop him.

He still hasn't came yet, you remembered. He fucks you through your orgasm, pace not seeming to be letting up anytime soon. The quickness of his hips, his balls slapping your cunt at the ferocious speed he’s kept all this time. He flips you around, making you face him. He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his grip on your throat tightening.

You feel his warm tongue explore your mouth, groaning into the kiss. His other hand goes back to playing with your nipple, tugging and rolling the bud between his fingers. One of your hands reaches up to his face, holding his cheek as he continues to fuck into you. He decides to change the position as he releases your throat, turning you back towards the wall, and bringing both of your hands behind you. He holds both your hands in one of his and rests his hand atop your head, his hand tangling in your hair and pulling your head back.

He begins pounding into you from behind at an erratic speed, chasing his high, “You're doing so good, baby. Keep moving your hips, shit, just like that.” He groans, slapping your ass as he continues his ministrations.

Feeling overstimulated, you pull your hand out of his and try to brush his thigh back, in an attempt to slow his pace. “F-fuck, ohmygod, p-please,” you hiccup, watching his face turn into a scowl. “What? Don't tell me you can’t, oh fuck—d-don’t tell me you can't fucking take it now?” he chuckles, bringing another hand to your ass and gripping the rose-colored flesh.

“That’s n-not, fffuck, yes— That’s not w-what I said, don't stop please, shittt,” you stutter out, he chuckles at how incoherent you’ve become and coos from behind you. “Uh huh, okay. Of course, what was I thinking? Thinking a slut like you would’ve wanted to stop,” he laughs. You whimper at his words, “I’m not a s-slut!” — “Aw, you sure?” He taunts, watching tears well up in your eyes. “Oh, pretty baby, why are you crying?” he asks, faux concern lacing his tone, “I thought you liked it when I fucked your brains out?” He taunts once again, listening to you whimper at the overstimulation.

“No words now?” You hear him ask as you mumble incoherently, reaching out toward his hand for stability. A small smirk ghosts over his lips at your neediness, his fingers ghosting over yours as his other hand continues gripping the meaty flesh of your ass. “Look at you—jumbling all of the words that come out of that pretty mouth, so pretty.” You moan pathetically, feeling your orgasm approaching once again.

You feel his cock twitch inside of you, hearing his breaths become more erratic as he also feels his climax approaching. “F-fuckkk, baby. I’m right t-there, keep moving, please,” he moans, releasing your hand and placing his on your hips. You place your hands on the concrete wall, trying your best to keep yourself stable. You bounce back towards him, letting him take a break from doing all the work. His hands caress your back, reaching to pull you up. He holds you close to his chest, catching your lips in a kiss that's different from the last one.

The kiss is so passionate that you nearly forget your surroundings. His plush lips press against yours, hungry and intense. The adrenaline rushes through both of your veins, the pent-up anger and constant arguments have built the tension between the two of you. Your hand tangles in his hair as his hand grabs your chin, deepening the kiss. You start to feel a warm sensation in your chest, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

In the midst of your shared kiss, both of your orgasms creep up on you and take you by surprise. He moans out of bliss; groaning into the kiss. Your back arches intensely as his hips still, releasing thick strings of cum into your fluttering pussy, your orgasm following soon after.

Your second orgasm hits harder than the other; you’re squirting on his cock, body jerking in his arms as he kisses your neck, easing you through your orgasm. You moan loudly, loud enough for him to have to cover your mouth. “Shhh, you did so good. So perfect f’me, my perfect girl.” He kisses your neck, watching as you come down from your orgasm. You let out cracked sobs, hearing him coo as he wipes them away.

“Breathe, baby.” He rubs your hip, massaging it softly. “You took me like such a good girl, so proud of you,” he kisses your lips, turning you back around toward him. He stares at you; his eyes are no longer lust-filled but full of love. He looks down at the shreds of your clothes, shocked. He knows he did that but it's still pretty shocking, which he laughs about.

You look at him, cracking a smile. He catches your eyes and begins smiling as well, “I really did that, huh?” he asks, a bit of shyness overtaking him. You smile timidly, nodding your head as he picks up the pieces of your suit.

“I’ll get this sewn back together for you—if you want me to,” he insists kindly, looking at you awaiting a response. You wave your hand in front of his face, “I don't need you to, I have plenty of others at your place.” He smiles at your insinuation of staying over and chuckles softly. You watch his eyes turn into crescent moons, followed by his sweet laugh.

He raises a hand to your face, caressing the soft skin of your cheek. “I’m sorry,” you pause, looking up at him to show how genuine you truly are. “For telling our business to the press, I really just wanted a rise out of you and-” “It’s okay baby.” He smiles, pinching your cheek softly.

“Even though you do get on my nerves at times, I still love you, y’know this. Plus,” he pauses, looking away for dramatic effect, “You know I hate false accusations.”

He winks at you, catching you slightly off guard. “Yeah, trust me I know. You’ve always wanted to prove a point,” you scoff with a minor eye roll. “Whatever do you mean? I’ve never wanted to prove a point in my life,” he hums, pulling up his pants. You raise your eyebrow at him, leaning back against the wall. “Don't even, you don't remember that one time when you-”

“Shhh. You're prettier when you're quiet, baby,” he says, placing his finger on your lips. You roll your eyes, smiling at his response. He smiles back at you, ticking his head to the side, “You wanna head home?” — “Please, I’m quite literally bare.” He laughs at your comment, pulling out his grappling hook and latching you on his side.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

★ TAGLIST: @boba-beom, @gardnhee, @n0-thisispatrick, @hyukafied, @luvsoobs, @choiwrld, @majestyjun, @tyunkus, @belovedxiao, @h00nerz, @sugaringgcaramel . . .

☆ NETWORKS: @k-labels . . .

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dark-konohagakure2 · 2 months

Note

Brother hidan getting jealous that his little sister has been flirting with kakuzu.

(R@pe,jealousy and he bitches the entire time)

tw: noncon, incest, sibling incest, misogyny, jealousy, possessiveness, degradation, virginity loss, age difference

All characters depicted are 18+

Hidan knows his partner Kakuzu better than anyone. He knows that Kakuzu wouldn't ever go for an immature woman like Hidan's little sister, but Hidan doesn't care, she had the audacity to flirt with the old man, and Hidan is beyond pissed.

He won't bother hiding how jealous he is, especially when the old miser doesn't bother to reject her flirting, Hidan has to restrain himself from ripping out one of the man's hearts on the spot, but instead he decides to punish the real culprit.

The white haired man will forcibly drag his sister away (much to Kakuzu's apathy) and into his room, practically snarling and spitting in her face as he berates her slutty behavior, yelling at her for putting out for Kakuzu just because he's a bigger and more wealthy man, he'll even accuse her of being a gold digger and a hooker during his tirade.

Hidan's bitching and complaining only increases as he shoves his hand down his sister's panties and feels how wet her pussy is, he'll be enraged that his own baby sister is getting wet for someone other than her kind and gentle big brother, and he'll make sure to reprimand her sternly.

"Cunt! Why aren't you paying attention to me, huh?! I'm your big bro but you aren't even getting wet in your panties for me?! I hate cheating sluts like you!"

Hidan reaches the conclusion that the only way to keep his disobedient sister all to himself is to take her virginity by force, it always works in the hardcore pornography he watches all the time, so in his mind there's no reason for it not to work on a real woman too.

Hidan isn't the slightest bit gentle, not only because he's pissed off at her, but because he can barely contain his excitement at the fact that he's finally balls deep inside of his sister and claiming her as his property, both his excitement and anger keep Hidan from caring about her comfort or consent.

He never shuts up during the entire act, complaining about every little thing, about every instance she even looked at a guy that wasn't him, and he'll be especially verbal about how angry she is that she apparently loves his partner more than him.

In his mind, if he cums inside of her, that means he automatically owns her, fair and square. Even if she protests he'll just shut her up, telling her that she's his property now that he filled her up with his seed.

"There! Now you're all mine! Mine! Not Kakuzu's! Understand, you stupid little idiot?! No one get to love you except me!"

From that day on, Hidan takes special care to ensure that his sister stays far away from not only Kakuzu, but from any men in general, she doesn't need them now that she's in a very committed 'relationship' with her big brother.

#naruto #naruto shippuden #boruto #naruto smut #naruto x reader #akatsuki #tw.incest #akatsuki smut #akatsuki x reader #headcanon #hidan #hidan x reader #hidan smut #x reader

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jadeylovesmarvelxo · 1 year

Text

❤️

Summary; You're feeling a little bit shitty and being sick always makes you clingy, Eddie snaps at you while he's planning Hellfire not realising the reason why you're so clingy.

Warnings; Kinda mean Eddie, then soft Eddie, fluff, the reader is sick (headache), minors dni

Don't copy, reuse or repost my work 💕

❤️

Since you woke up this morning you had been feeling out of sorts, a pounding headache made you feel nauseated and it made you crave cuddles from your boyfriend Eddie.

When you were sick you always wanted cuddles, more affection.

Eddie was planning a massive campaign for Hellfire and normally you would never bother him during this time but you were feeling like shit and you just wanted Eddie to hold you for a little while.

Even though he had graduated now he still loved doing the campaign with his friends and you loved to join them sometimes, whether it was Eddie teaching you how to play or joining in on the campaign.

When you go to the drama club he's deep in planning for the campaign, scribbling notes and making sure everything is set up perfect.

"Eddie?" he briefly looks up and smiles.

"Hey princess" You kiss his cheek and cuddle into him. He stops what he's doing for a second, presses a kiss to your lips then manoeuvres around you to continue planning out the campaign.

"How's the planning going?" he nods barely taking his eyes off the notes he's wrote.

"Fine" you whine as he moves and you just want five minutes with him and walk up to him nuzzling into his chest.

You tug on his shirt and frustration gives way on his features.

"Jesus H Christ! The guys will be here any minute and I have so much to do. What is it?" he snaps and you wince at his annoyed tone as move away.

"You know what, it's fine. Sorry for bothering you" you reply hurt and he pauses, his irritation wavering.

"Princess, this is my big campaign it's important" The rest of Hellfire come in and you fake a smile, feeling even more shitty that Eddie snapped at you.

"I'll see you later Eddie, have a good campaign okay?" you smile at the guys then rush out before Eddie can call you back.

❤️

The campaign was a massive success, he had spent a lot of time on it and he was pleased everything went so well.

However, all through Hellfire, he felt guilty that he snapped at you, the way you tried to hide how upset you were caused his heart to ache.

The truth was he was still getting used to being with someone this long, he only really had hook ups and brief relationships.

Nobody really caught his eye until you came along, no one made him want to commit to something...more until you came along.

He loved you so much and it scared the shit out of him at first at how deeply he loved you, he was less scared now but he was still navigating having a busy love life with his social life.

Before you all that took up his time was Hellfire and band practice but now he was getting used to having an amazing partner who now took up a pretty large part of his thoughts.

You rarely ever bothered him during the later stages of planning a campaign, except when he taught you how to play when you expressed interest in attending a few meetings.

Something must be bothering you and he curses himself that he doesn't know what's wrong. He didn't even give you a chance to explain.

The boys and Erica loved you as well and Erica was very vocal about the fact that he had messed up.

Unbelievable. He was told off by an eleven-year-old.

He's anxious to speak to you now and hopes you went back to his trailer as per the usual after Hellfire night.

💕

When Eddie gets home, Uncle Wayne is waiting for him.

"Hey, Wayne. Is Princess here?" Wayne nods.

"You know your girl is sick son, she's stubborn as a mule and tried to pretend she isn't but I ain't falling for it" he freezes.

You were sick? Shit! he immediately hurries into his room and finds you fast asleep on his bed.

Very gently he settles down on the bed and your eyes flutter open.

"Eddie. How was the campaign?" he gets into bed with you and holds you close.

"It was great sweetheart, you could have stuck around" you sigh and shake your head.

"Didn't want to bother you" he feels his heart clench painfully.

"Babe..."

"You were planning Hellfire, you were already grumpy" he winces remembering his response to you wanting to cuddle.

"I was a big douchebag, a complete butthead sweetheart. Yeah, the campaigns important but you're my girl and much much more important to me"

He kisses your forehead.

"We've only been dating for a few months and it's not an excuse it's just Hellfire used to be the most important part of my life, and now you are but I still love Hellfire and sometimes I get lost in my own head about it"

This softens you a little bit and you snuggle deeper into him.

"Eddie, I never ever want you to apologise for what you love. It's so lovely seeing you get excited about Hellfire. I love that, I just needed some extra Eddie cuddles that's all, was feeling shitty"

He nods and rests his chin on top of your head.

"Yeah, Wayne told me you're sick. You're also very stubborn. However, Doctor Munson's orders are bedrest, cuddles and lots of soup"

You peer up at him and pout adorably.

"Kisses too?" he grins, feeling his heart melt at that pout. Fuck, if his friends could see the big bad Dungeon Master reduced to a puddle over a pout.

"Yes, Princess and my famous hot chocolate" you beam.

"Before all that tell me a little more about the campaign. I want to hear about it?" he settles down and chats to you excitedly, ready for a night with his girl.

💕

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #mean eddie #Kinda #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n

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velvetwyrme · 3 months

Note

Um hi!! I just wanted to say I fucking love your work and everything you do and I’m so glad to say that you have officially made me into a papyri lover and I request that you continue to feed me with your amazing art and writing😇 (I’m literally folding for Rus and Dare’s relationship and not to mention Flipping fate has honestly got me hooked and never letting me go)

Also! If it’s not a bother do you have any tips on drawing the two skeleton brothers? (Aus don’t rly matter!) I just adore how you do it (sketches and the finished product) and I just wanted to ask ;,)

WAHHH THANKUUU 💖💖 Welcome to the ranks of Papyri lovers...!! (APOLOGIES IVE BEEN SLACKING ON THE PAPYRI CONTENT ;w; [and also. literally anything in general recently agdjcbdk]) ALSO sorry this took like. months to reply to agahamjdbhsmf,jj,,,, I made a whole thing. and then accidentally deleted said thing? so I had to remake it after moping for like a month.

Anyway, here is. a very messy breakdown and some tips!! That are hopefully helpful!!! It's mostly about faces but if you're interested I can also get into the nitty gritty of drwing skeletons but these are like. Sans and Papyrus specific parts (so mostly their skulls lol)

Skulls are both weirdly round, and weirdly angular (a sentiment that I read in a fic once and committed to heart apparently. Like... yeah. They ARE weirdly round and angled.) As always shape language is your friend (real bouba and kiki moments)

Sans has more of a... chibi face shape LMAO. If you've drawn those before it makes drawing him a lil easier imo. As for Papyrus...

He's a pain!! He's got lots of expressions and I usually have to redraw his face like sixteen times. His eyes are just like 2 fucking vertical lines and yet. AND YET. My beloved boy is so difficult. At least he has very expressive eyebrows. I also use the corners of his mouth to give him more range of expressiveness since he has no lips! Also the lines for his "individual" teeth... I can take it or leave it. Sometimes it works sometimes it doesn't!

I only give Papyrus lower eyelids because if you give him upper eyelids/lidded sockets he looks like Underswap Paps LMAO,,

Sans on the other hand has "lips" but doesn't use them hrkfhdk,, I always make sure to give him the little holes at the corners of his mouth as well.

Also that's all about their heads/faces so here's a note about how I do bodies which is. Shapes. These two are so Shaped.

Seriously though the best thing to do is just to try emulate other people's artstyles or pick out parts of them that you like and incorporate them into your works. Like how someone draws Sans' eyes? Try it and apply it!!

People also tend to draw the skeletons with slightly different facial proportions, so experiment with that and see what you like as well! I've gotten pretty good at eyeballing it and drawing them directly (with the exception of Papyrus around 40% of the time, wherein I have to redraw his face sixteen times before it looks good).

#SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO REPLY #GOD THIS ASK IS FROM FUCKING APRIL IM SO SORRY #inbox #my art #velwy.jpeg #undertale #tips! i hope it was helpful maybe.

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orshii · 4 months

Text

Did I cross the line?

➼Author: orshii

➼Pairing: Kim Hongjoong x female reader

➼Word count: 4 k

➼Summary: On Valentine's Day in Paris, a romantic trip with your boyfriend, takes a painful turn when unresolved feelings about his ex-girlfriend, who was once your best friend, resurface. Despite the love between you, the past threatens to tear you apart. Through heartfelt conversations, you confront your insecurities and reaffirm your commitment, realizing that to move forward, you must leave the past behind.

➼A/N: Well...here I am again with a Hongjoong drabble, and this little something was born because of Billie Eilish's new song. And it was completely inspired by it, so please please, listen to the song and pay attention to the lyrics so you will understand the story more. I just love it, it's such a beautiful song and I can't get it out of my mind...just as well Hongjoong haha...Anyway, I am not sure this is what I wanted, but this happened so enjoy! Byee...--also, sorry for any mistakes :'(... (divider)

Things fall apart, and time breaks your heart, but it also heals your soul, allowing you to feel like a normal human on this chaotic Earth. It's much harder when you're alone, but if you find someone who is always by your side and supports you unconditionally, you become unstoppable. Nothing can come your way when they are next to you and cheering for you on the side to chase your dreams. When you find the mate of your soul, you think nothing can stop you from now on.

Except... sometimes, despite everything, you grow farther apart because of a tiny reason, turning what was once promising into something that couldn’t bloom or burn with passion.

This is the reason why I am crying in a hotel room in Paris, the city of love on Valentine’s Day, with my heart broken into thousands of pieces. How ironic life can be. It's the day of love and I'm in the city of love, yet I never felt more disappointed in love ever. The broken pieces of my heart are cutting me from the inside, I want to scream from the pain, but I have never been quieter in my life, my voice got lost between the sharp pieces of my heart.

Our trip to the city of love started like a cliché straight from a romantic movie. We decided with my boyfriend, Hongjoong, that we were going to travel to Paris for a little break, as we both needed it, we were overwhelmed with work, and we barely saw each other. And Valentine's Day was a perfect excuse for both of us, to celebrate our love, that just started to bloom. Our relationship began six months ago, and it was a maze until we finally understood each other and found our way through the dark, complicated labyrinth of each other's hearts.

We wandered around the city with our hands interlaced, never letting go for even a minute. We felt locked together, forever. Throughout the day we visited a lot of museums and the typical sights of Paris, that being the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. When the both of us were on top of the Eiffel Tower, the wind was so strong up there, that we could barely see the city down there. The air was chilly, as it was mid-winter. The clouds were gone, and the snow had already melted away, leaving behind only the cold.

I stared at Hongjoong, my hair in my face, giggling as he took pictures of me. The photos came out blurry but full of happiness. The sun that slowly approached its lowest spread an orange blanket over the city, lighting it with all shades of orange. I looked next to me, where Hongjoong was smiling. I saw him in slow-motion, as he was looking down at the orange city, the sun's beams lighting his beautifully shaped face, his jawline sharp, his cheekbones high, his eyes in the shape of a crescent moon as he was smiling. The wind blew very slightly on his brown hair alongside his elegant black clothes.

And his smile... that was why I fell in love with him so deeply that I couldn't escape. His smile was so perfect and wide, full of humanity, with sincerity that immediately caught me off-guard because I didn't believe in the fact, that perfect humans on this Earth existed. But as soon as I saw him, I knew it was just a lie, because with time every human being finds their perfect mate for their soul, no matter if someone sees them as imperfect. For you, they are always going to be perfect.

After coming down from the tower, we wanted to do one last thing: put a padlock on the famous bridge where people place padlocks to symbolize their love, as the saying goes, 'Lasts until forever'. And as it was Valentine's Day and we were in the city of love, to make it cheesier we bought a red padlock to put it on the bridge.

"So did you enjoy yourself today?" Hongjoong asked looking at me with his adoringly beautiful smile, as we were walking towards the bridge.

"This was the happiest day of my life Hongjoong." I looked at him with loving eyes, tears almost appearing in my eyes as I was very overwhelmed by the fact of how much I loved him. "Thank you."

"Come here, my little bun." He pulled me by my hand that was interlaced with his and hugged me strongly I felt like he might break my bones, as we were at the end of the bridge. He pecked the top of my head and slowly separated from me, leaving little distance between us, just to cup my face into his warm hand. Chills ran through my body as I felt his warm hand on my cold and red face, he immediately warmed me up with only one slight touch.

"I love to see you happy." He said his voice a little childish as he was saying it adorably. He tugged my hair behind my air. "I'm happy if you are too."

"You are too cheesy, what happened to you?" I looked at him suspiciously.

He chuckled at that. "You happened; I can't help it." He slowly leaned closer to me and slightly pecked my lips with his. Then he looked at me and smiled like I was the only human being on Earth.

"So, it's my fault?" I whispered onto his lips, that still hovered over mine.

"Yes, it is." His eyes were on my lips, as he whispered the words sweetly.

Then he closed the distance again between our lips and kissed me more passionately, putting his heart into the kiss, giving it to me so I could keep it safely in my imaginary safe made out of unbreakable metal, but sometimes that metal can get infected and it can crack and that hurts. As I kissed him back my lips slowly moving against his, the world was gone around us, and I did the same with my heart, giving it to him, so he could keep my heart wherever he wanted to. I hoped our hearts belonged to the other and no one else.

"Let's put that silly padlock on." He said as we separated from the kiss, caressing my cold cheeks.

I just nodded and took his hand to lead him through the bridge's middle.

"It's nice to be back in here." He said as we were looking around, observing the padlocks people already left there.

"Have you been here before?" I asked him surprised with a frown.

Suddenly his expression changed, as we stopped in the middle of the bridge, people around us walking and smiling, the sky had already gone dark, and only the street lights showed the way.

"Well…yes." He scratched the back of his head, averting my eyes.

"I didn't know, when?" He acted strange all of a sudden and I didn’t know why.

"Last year—with… Hana." He slowly looked up, to see my reaction.

I gulped and my heart started to race quickly as I heard her name. I really wanted to stay calm it wasn't the time to argue again as he knew it was an uncomfortable topic between us.

I nodded barely visible. "I see…" I looked down on my hands. "And did you like—were here?" My voice came out strange, it lost its power as I pointed at the padlocks.

"Y—yes," Hongjoong said noticing as my expression changed very quickly. He stepped closer to me to hold my hands. I just looked down at our hands and then at the padlocks. "But it was in the past and you know it, Y/N. I want to do this with you." He reached his hands towards my face, but before he could touch it, I stopped him.

"Well, I don't want to anymore." My voice came out serious, my face looked hurt and disappointed. I stepped back, putting distance between us.

"C'mon, Y/N. You can't be serious." He stepped closer to me and I stepped back again on that. He scoffed at that. "Why can't you put it all behind you? It was a long time ago."

"Because she's everywhere I go, Hongjoong, anything I do with you has to do something with her." Tears started to well up in my eyes.

"It's not, you just made it up here," He pointed at his temple."…because you can't get over it, Y/N." He seemed upset as his voice got more serious.

I scoffed at that in disbelief. "So, now you think I'm crazy?"

It is very unpredictable how everything can change from heaven to hell.

"No, you are not crazy, but you definitely can't let go of the past and be in the present…with me." Hongjoong said running his fingers through his brown short hair.

"What can I do, when all the time I see her face, everywhere." I lifted my arms helplessly. "In our daily life, in our home…in your eyes." One tear slowly escaped my left eye.

"When will you understand she is nothing to me now?" He stepped closer to me, disappointment showing on his face. "When will you understand you are my everything? That I love you and no one else." His voice got lower, weaker.

"I know that you love me, you don't need to remind me like it's an obligation." I looked at him already feeling so far away from him.

Hongjoong scoffed at that. "What are you talking about?"

"You always sound like you have to assure me you love me." I looked down at the ground, where our shadows melted into each other. I just wanted to hide from him. "I am sure you love me. But…it's just a feeling I can't shake."

"You have no idea what are you talking about. Can't you get that you are my fucking world Y/N?" I felt as he stared at me with deadly eyes, growing more furious.

Stressed, I ran my fingers through my hair, tears streaming down my face. "But you aren't mine," I barely said out loud, knowing he could hear me.

I couldn't see his expression as he stood there in silence for a moment.

"You think so?" he asked, his voice calmer.

I just nodded, unable to look up.

He chuckled and came closer to me, his breath close to my face. "So, let's make it fair, then. Shall we?" His voice was like a threat. Then he grabbed the padlock from my hand and threw it away into the water. I stared at him, my eyes wide in shock. "I wanted to make you happy, to do cheesy things like this. But if you can't understand, let's just stop."

"I never wanted to fight," I mumbled.

"But we always do, Y/N." He lifted his eyebrows as he looked at me, disappointed. "It wasn't like this before."

"What do you mean?" I asked him, confused.

"I mean, when we started, it was nice. We were happy, no arguing. But you kept looking into my past and everything changed." He looked into my eyes, tired of the arguments.

"Because she was always there in the back of my mind." I sniffled and wiped away a tear.

"She isn't now. But you can't see it." He shook his head slightly.

"Honestly…I don't know if I can be with someone who can't let go of the past…" I snapped my head up at that, his face was nothing but serious without any emotions. My heart started to race more quickly than before.

"Hongjoong…" I stepped closer to him with regret on my face.

"No." Now he was the one who stepped back, and my heart started to crack. "I am tired of this, you have to let go of our past and be present completely, not only with half of your heart." He said those words like it was venom and it flew right into my lungs poisoning it so I couldn't breathe anymore.

"We will talk when you finally manage to do that." He put his hands into his pockets and just passed by me like we suddenly became two strangers, leaving me there on the bridge where we could've locked our love forever, he left me with a heart suddenly broken into millions of pieces.

Did I cross the line?

The thing is Hana was Hongjoong's ex-girlfriend and my best friend.

My best friend and Hongjoong got together three years ago and broke up last summer. And it wasn't particularly because of me, well I played a little part in that as well, but they just always argued about little annoying things and I was the one who reconciled them. I'm not sure when it happened, but the more I was hanging out with my best friend and her boyfriend the more I felt something wasn't right. I started to feel something towards Hongjoong and I knew it wasn’t right so I quickly buried it deep down into my soul, so no one would know it.

I watched them through these years when they were arguing and when they hated each other, but they always made up at the end of the day and everyone was happy.

Not until one day, Hongjoong found out Hana cheated on him. That day was a disaster because the more time I spent with Hongjoong, the closer I grew to him. I considered him a friend and liked him. I could talk about things with him, that I didn’t even tell my best friend. It was hard to take sides, to be honest, it was cruel of my best friend but at the same time she was my best friend and I needed to be by her side. She was crying on my shoulder even though she fucked all of this up. Slowly, Hongjoong walked out of our lives, and it didn't feel right for some reason. Not seeing him every day, not knowing what he was doing, made my heart ache for some reason and I was so confused.

Not until July.

We accidentally ended up at the same event connected to our work and started talking. We talked, but like we just met, like we didn't know each other before like Hana didn't even exist. I felt guilty of course but sometimes people have to be selfish, for their own sake. We had a deep connection with Hongjoong and I didn't want to let it go. I just couldn't.

From then on, we grew closer to each other, and got to know each other. And one night, Hana saw us, of course, I didn't tell her about Hongjoong, that we were talking. And of course, the universe loved us and Hana saw us exactly that summer night when Hongjoong kissed me for the first time. When he kissed me, I felt like I was finally complete, like I found the missing piece of my lost soul. But when I saw Hana's face, my soul immediately burnt into specks of dust.

Until then, all I could see was her face when he saw us, the hatred in her eyes, that I could understand. I haven't see her since then, but she lives in my head rent-free. I hated myself because this was the cruelest thing a best friend could do. But I stayed selfish and chose Hongjoong because he made me happy and made me feel alive.

And now I fucked up everything because I can't get through our past. What happened is happened, but when he touches me all I can think of is how she felt, I always compare myself to her.

As I was standing on the bridge and trying to somehow organize my thoughts, I just started to walk in the city that was full of couples and happy people. The city was alive, restaurants were open, and people were celebrating, and laughing together. Yet, I was there walking past them with my eyes crying out, slowly losing myself in the dark. When I passed by a lucky charm seller, the old lady beckoned me to go there. I frowned as I slowly approached her.

"My daughter, you look sad, did somebody break your heart?" She asked me putting his hands on my shoulders.

I nodded tears appearing in my eyes again. "But… it was my fault…so I deserve it." My voice came out weak.

"No one deserves a broken heart, sweet girl." She slowly wiped off my tears. "These lucky charms will tell you what to do, I am sure." She pointed at the little papers with green trefoils on them.

I just shrugged, I didn't believe in these things, but at least I could make someone happy by buying one. I chose one randomly and paid for it, thanking the lady.

"And don’t forget, sometimes before loving someone else, we have to learn how to love and how to receive it." She smiled at me and let me keep going.

I put the lucky charm in my pocket, not even bothering to read it, and walked forward without any destination. All I could think about was Hongjoong and how much I fucked up. It was a perfect day…why did I have to fuck it up? As I walked next to the river my palm was itching in my pocket so I stopped to read the paper. I slowly opened the decorated paper.

"I fell in love with you because you loved me when I couldn't love myself.

And then you realize it was all real."

I read the lines with my heart slowly warming up and pumping quicker. I never believed in things like these, but these lines hit me hard in the chest just so I could realize how stupid I was, how stupid I was to think Hongjoong didn't love me. I mentally face-palmed myself and tried to stop myself from jumping straight into the cold river and turned around just to run back to our hotel, hoping Hongjoong was going to be there.

Hongjoong wasn't there and he will never come back. He will never come back, because I made myself believe he had anything to do with Hana and that he always compared me to her. But the truth is I compared myself to her and it made my brain a fool, so I believed every cruel thing it whispered to me.

I collapsed on the bed, hugged myself and here I was, crying my soul out with a broken heart, on Valentine's Day, in the city of love.

Hours or just minutes passed by, and I lost track of time when I heard the door closing. I opened my eyes quickly; I was facing the door to our room laying on my right side. Hongjoong slowly stepped inside and took off his winter coat his eyes on me the whole time. I couldn't tell what was he thinking.

I sat up as he approached me and sat on the bed, just to cup my cried-out face into his, now cold, hands.

He leaned his forehead against mine as he whispered. "Oh, my little bun. You make my heart break, seeing you like this."

Probably I looked like hell, my eyes red, my cheeks puffy, my make-up smashed from crying.

I slowly held his wrists that cupped my face. "Hongjoong I—" Tears found their way out again; I didn't understand how I hadn't dried out by now. I started to sob.

"I'm sorry, my love, I shouldn't have talked to you like that." He hugged me, his fingers running through my hair, trying to calm me down.

I slowly lifted my head from his chest. "No, you were right, Hongjoong." Words could finally leave my mouth. "I was living in the past, that hurt me, but at the same time healed me…you healed me. I was so broken, but you managed to glue together the pieces of me. But this Hana thing just hunted me and I couldn't run away it’s like she cursed me just so I could feel his revenge." I looked down at my hands sniffing.

Then I looked into his eyes and the mate of my soul looked at me like I was the most vulnerable creature on Earth. And that was the moment I got reassured about everything.

"I'm so sorry for making you feel like it was all your fault when it was just my fucked-up mind. You are my everything Hongjoong, and I couldn't spend even a minute without you in my life. Please, don't leave me…" My tears flew down my cheeks endlessly.

He sighed and slowly reached for my hands, holding them like a treasure. "You are a fool if you think it is an obligation for me to say I love you. I say it because I mean it with all my heart, and to let you know that Hana is in the past you know I never really loved her. Not like I love you. You are my partner in life, my future and I never want to let you go." He wiped my tears away as his eyes watered and a little teardrop escaped his eye. I immediately wiped it away, not wanting to see him cry because of me. Ever.

"I love you so-so much!" I whispered weakly as I cupped his face.

"I love you endlessly, bun." He smiled at me adoringly, his smile that cured everything inside me and his lips on mine that slowly put the broken pieces of my heart into its place, my heart being whole again, in one piece, just so I could give it to him, into his hands to do whatever he wanted to it, because I just belonged to him and he belonged to me.

He kissed me slowly, like never before, his soft lips moving along mine leaving a sweet taste behind. I slowly crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. His hands found their place on my waist like they belonged there and squeezed it like he never wanted to let me go. Our kiss got more hotter as I parted my lips letting his tongue inside, discovering every hidden place of my mouth, like he wanted to taste every inch of me. My hands crawled into his hair squeezing it as a moan left his mouth. His hands slowly got their way under my clothes, running his fingers up and down my back, like he couldn't get enough of me.

"You are so beautiful, Y/N." He whispered onto my lips between hot kisses. He looked at me like he couldn't believe his eyes. "You are my beautiful girl." His lips traced over mine as he firmly bit my lower lip.

I chuckled at that, as he quickly flipped us over and he hovered above me, supporting himself with his hands on both sides of my head and he just looked at me. I got impatient and quickly lifted my head so I could kiss him, but he pushed me back to the bed and kissed me harshly, my body felt hot, and I felt like I could burn alive.

Everywhere he touched me burned my skin down to my bones. But I didn’t care because I knew he was the love of my life, that one person who was always beside me and supported me no matter what. The past needs to be locked in the past and the present needs to be lived just so I can build a strong future alongside the emotions I feel, alongside Hongjoong, now, on Valentine's Day and in the city of love, Paris.

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yeoosaangg · 11 months

Text

Church || Kinktober - Day 15

pairing ▸ na jaemin × f!reader

now playing ▸ church - chase atlantic

⤷ ❝and i'll keep leading you on if you keep leading me into your room.❞

genre ▸ non-idol au, situationship, smut, angst

warnings ▸ mirror sex, fingering, marking, praise, choking, breeding kink

── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──

Everyone in your new town warned you - do not get involved with Na Jaemin.

It was odd to be told that right out the gate, but you complied. It was a small town, with one university for the locals to attend if they wish to remain in familiar territory.

You chose this college because it's where your mom grew up. She passed away last year and you wanted to fulfill her wishes of seeing the place.

Your dad wasn't enthusiastic in moving there, but he'll do what your mom said because he still loves her.

And when you met a few people, they'd tell you about everyone's business. Literally.

The head cheeleader? Sleeping with the football coach.

The football captain? Sleeping with the music teacher.

Na Jaemin? Stay away from him.

You listened to your new friends for a while; you did not want to be a part of the drama. But because you were "fresh", you had caught his attention next.

Jaemin: One date. I swear you won't regret it.

Y/n: No thanks. Have a nice day.

He didn't give up until you finally cracked. He took the opportunity to approach you when he found out your friends didn't have classes for the day.

Jaemin: I'm serious, let me take you on a date.

This time around, you caved - only to get him to back off!

But after the one date, you both couldn't stay away from each other. You, because he made you feel alive. Him, because you're the perfect little fuckdoll.

Every other girl in that town was so eager to sleep with him, he did it to shut them up and never go back.

But you, wow you couldn't have been more perfect. A virgin willing to let him teach you how to please him? Why would he ever say no to that?

And then the inevitable happened - you fell in love with him.

You knew, by the caution of others, that he wasn't one for commitment. He'll fuck a girl once and never go back. But you felt special because he did come back. Multiple times, in fact.

Everytime you'd bring up a possible relationship, he shuts it down and distracts you with his kisses.

You couldn't take it anymore and decided cut him off if he wasn't going to take you seriously.

Jaemin: C'mon, angel. Don't throw us away.

Y/n: There is no us, Jaemin. You made sure of that.

And you kept your word. You stopped seeing him in secrecy, occupying yourself with your studies. You even met a guy who makes you laugh and feel important.

And Jaemin made a fool of himself by picking a fight with him during one of the lunch breaks.

Juyeon: What the fuck is your problem, dude?

Jaemin: You're my fucking problem, Lee Juyeon. Stay the fuck away from Y/n.

Juyeon: Why should I? Because she agreed to go on a date with me after rejecting you for months?

Jaemin: She's mine. I don't fucking share.

Juyeon: She's no one's property, Na. No wonder she hates you.

That set Jaemin off. He doesn't even know what he's doing, all he knows is he's angry and Juyeon's his target. Lefts and rights collide onto his jaw, drawing blood.

It wasn't until he heard your voice that he finally stops beating the man to a pulp.

Y/n: What the fuck is wrong with you?

Jaemin: Baby, I can expl-

Y/n: Shut up. Just stay the fuck away from me.

You crouch down, helping Juyeon to his feet. You were going to accompany him to the infirmary, but Jaemin wasn't having it.

You yelp when he lifts you off the ground, making his way out of the dining hall and out to the student parking lot. He opens his car and makes sure to put your seatbelt on.

You try to get out, but the door stays locked. Did he child proof it? Such an asshole.

All your friends were in distress as they saw you trying to get out. Jaemin drives off in the direction of his apartment that no one knew belongs to him.

No one except you.

Y/n: Jaemin, please. Just forget about me.

Jaemin: You're fucking crazy if you think I'll listen to that stupid request. I don't want other men touching what's mine.

Y/n: I'm not yours.

Jaemin: Why do you keep saying that? I'm the one that took your virginity, first kiss, first everything! That makes you mine.

Y/n: No, it doesn't. It just means I trusted you at the time.

Jaemin: You don't trust me now?

Y/n: Not with the way you're acting.

If you weren't looking at him, you'd miss the tears streaming down his face.

He never cries.

Jaemin: Baby, please don't say things like that. It hurts to hear you say you don't trust me.

Y/n: Why are you crying? You don't even care about me the way I needed you to.

Jaemin: I want to.

What?

Jaemin: I want to care about you that way, but I don't know how. You're the first girl I've ever felt something more with than just lust. And it fucking terrifies me. But when you left? I felt like I was dying, angel.

This can't be happening right now.

He pulls into the apartment complex's parking garage, and both of you just sit in silence until he speaks up.

Jaemin: Please don't leave me.

Y/n: I can't keep doimg this with you, Jaemin.

Jaemin: Why not?

He looks so sad, an emotion he never displays. You don't want to give in, in case it's all an act.

Y/n: You don't like me that way, Jaemin.

Jaemin: And how would you know that?

You don't, but if he did he would've asked you out when you voiced your affection.

Jaemin: Come upstairs with me. I'll show you that I'm serious about this.

You should've known better than to listen because now he has you on our knees in front of a large, full length mirror.

Jaemin: Remember that conversation we had when we started this?

Y/n: How could I forget?

He asked you what your biggest fantasy in bed was, so you naturally replied with the truth - to be fucked in front of a mirror.

He never gave you that fantasy back then, just stored the information for later.

Your breath hitches when he starts to undress you.

He pauses a bit when he senses your hesitation. Despite his past actions, he meant everything he said on the way there.

Jaemin: Do you want this?

Y/n: Yes.

Jaemin: Are you sure?

Y/n: I want to see if you're telling the truth.

He tries to smile, but it just falls.

He knows it's going to take a lot more than just fucking you to show that he's serious about you. He'll gladly spend months, even years, proving himself to you.

Jaemin continues to undress you, touching everywhere with such tenderness. He usually gets straight to the point and fucks you dumb.

But this wasn't just any rendezvous hookup, you're his everything. And he wants to show you that.

He starts fondling your breasts, using his fingers to stimulate your nipples.

You hate how his touch instantly relaxes you. You don't want to admit it, but you've missed him.

Jaemin: I've never had someone consume every part of my mind, body, and soul the way you have, princess. But, fuck, I don't want that to stop.

Y/n: Really?

Jaemin: Mhm. I can't lose you again, baby. I was already feeling crazy this time around. Next time, I fear I'll do something reckless.

Y/n: You think there'll be a next time?

Jaemin: I have to be realistic. This is all new to me, and I'm bound to make mistakes. But I hope you can find it in your heart to see that I'm trying. For you.

You lay your head against his shoulder, grinding down on his clothed erection.

Y/n: We'll figure it out if the time comes. For now, show me that you mean what you're saying.

He nods, kissing you deeply as his hand travels down to your clit. A moan falls passed your lips - right next to his ear - from finally being touched.

He slides his finger up and down your folds, loving the way your eyes are trained at the mirror. He can see you biting your bottom lip at the sight.

He shoves two fingers inside, making you choke on your moan. He just pumps his fingers rapidly, eventually adding another.

Jaemin: Keep looking, baby. Want you to see how gorgeous you look when you cum for me.

He starts painting your neck with lots of dark marks, staring at you through the mirror. You cum all over his fingers and the floor.

Jaemin: Beautiful.

You watch yourself catch your breath, a smile curling at the corners of your lips. That was so hot, you want more.

He undresses himself, and then positions himself right behind you. He hooks his arm to both of yours, lining his hard cock to your pussy.

Jaemin: Do not look away. Want you to see just how much of a goddess you are when I fuck you. Can you do that for me, angel?

You nod, wiggling your ass so he can put it in already.

He chuckles, bottoming out with no hesitation. He knows you can take his big size perfectly.

You watch yourself ceumble as his thrusts get rougher and slower. He wants you to feel his cock stretching your gummy walls - and, fuck, do you feel it.

Jaemin: You look so pretty taking all of my cock, princess.

He reaches around to hold you by the throat, letting go of your arms in the process. You scream, cumming again from the sensitivity.

He doesn't stop ramming his dick into you, loving the way your face is contorting to one of pure pleasure.

The way he's choking you forces the eye contact you have to make through the mirror. You love the way he's also moaning along with you - usually he grunts quietly.

Jaemin: You're doing so good, baby. Love the way your cunt begs for my cock. Did you miss me, too?

Y/n: So much!

It was hard to speak with his hand around your throat, so a short and simple answer will suffice. He didn't mind, though - your eyes tell him everything.

Jaemin: You want to cum again, don't you? Go ahead, love. Cum all over my cock.

It was like his words activated another orgasm. You can feel your essence dripping down your thighs and onto his.

You feel him fill you up, moaning as the warm liquid paints your gummy walls.

But he still wasn't done.

He pushes your head down onto the ground, chin up so you can still see yourselves.

Jaemin: Gonna get you pregnant, angel. Fill you up so no other man thinks he has a chance with you. They're gonna see how happy we are and get jealous.

You moan, clenching around his cock. You honestly love that idea more than you should.

Jaemin: You like that, don't you princess? Then I'll make it happen.

He continues to pound your pussy, the position allowing him to fuck you deeper than ever. He just abuses your hole until you're filled with three loads of his kids.

He kisses your shoulders, winking at you while his hips smack against your ass.

Jaemin: Look at you falling apart, baby. Think you can cum for me one more time?

Y/n: Mhm.

You can't even speak anymore with how good his cock is opening you up. You both cum one last time, staying in the position until he can properly pull out.

Jaemin: Keep your ass up. Don't want to watch anymore cum escape.

All you could do was listen because your body was twitching from getting fucked dumb by him.

He comes back and gently inserts a plug in your cunt, kissing in between your thighs to help distract you.

Jaemin: I'm running a bath. I'll take good care of you, my princess.

You just let him carry you into the bathroom.

He doesn't get in the tub with you, choosing to focus on you instead. He washes your hair and body so delicately, you'd think he was handling glass.

Y/n: Is it too soon to say the L word?

He freezes for a moment before he smiles at you.

Jaemin: Yeah. But I'll let you know when we can, okay?

Y/n: Okay.

═══

a/n: yeah, i jinxed myself. gonna go sleep (,,•﹏•,,) thanks for reading ‹𝟹

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eddiernunson · 1 year

Text

Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 10k

Warnings; degradation/praise, deep throating, eating out, edging

Author's note: Hope you don't mind but I made the reader both a swifitie and team Edward this chapter. I do appreciate all the love I've gotten for this fic. Here's part 3!

The general reaction you’ve received over the last two weeks was Are you out of your mind?

While Bethany heard you out on how it happened and why it felt like a sigh of relief being with Eddie, your mom lost her damn mind. As you spoke to her, you did your best to have a civil conversation until it just ended up being her lecturing you over the speaker while you finished up cleaning the dishes.

When she realizes you haven’t responded in a while and asks if you're still there, you pick up the phone from the window ledge and unmute yourself. “Mom, seems like you’re not interested in what I have to say about this, only about how it looks. Until you’re ready to listen, I’ll let you go.” Your finger hits the red hang up button, noting the time to the call being 45 minutes. You told her the situation about five minutes in and ever since, she had spent her time venting about Eddie and how irresponsible you were, as if she hadn't listened to anything you had to say about it.

“Are you sure you really thought this through?” Skyler, your roommate asks you as she brings her bowl over to you.

You huff, grabbing it from her and soaking it in the hot soapy water. “Thought what through?”

“You and him. Long term.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “Who said anything about this being long term? What if it’s just for now?”

“Is it just for now? Because you went into it with Dylan claiming all you wanted was someone to commit to you.” She pauses, and you look her in the eyes as if to say get on with it. “When you had someone fully committed, someone willing to stay in it for the long haul, you left him.”

“I didn’t get scared of his commitment, Sky!” You exclaimed, a little thrown off by it.

“Really? Because you were so eager to introduce him to literally anyone?” Skyler throws at you, and she had a point. Your hesitation in meeting Eddie had everything to do with the fact that Dylan was more committed to your relationship than you were.

You were literally every guy you had hooked up with before Dylan, getting angry that he would act like a boyfriend except for the life long stuff.

Fuck. What a hypocrite you were.

“Fine, his commitment scared me a bit.” You admit, washing one last dish before draining the sink. “But it’s not why I left him.”

“For his dad.”

You sigh, eyebrows raised at her tone. “Yes, for his dad.”

“Have you considered that when you’re his age, he’ll be in his 60s?”

“So?” You ask her, moving to the couch in the living room.

“That’s not a relationship built to last.”

“Why can’t that be up to us to decide?” You ask her, wrapping the throw blanket around you and tucking yourself into the couch. “Look, I get your concern. I truly do. From the outside, me and Dylan were doing everything right. Having adventures, going Instagram official. Then we were meeting the families, getting comfortable.” You pause, rubbing your hair out of your face. “If I was 19/20, I would completely understand. I mean, I wouldn’t, but if that were the scenario, your concern would make sense. But I’m not. I’m 25. My frontal lobe is fully developed. I know that if I get together with Eddie then he’ll always be 20 years older than me. He’ll always have a different perspective on life than I do.”

“You’ll always be tied to Dylan.” She points out.

“We dated for six weeks.” You counter, a pinch appearing between your brows. “While we haven’t discussed our long term goals, I don’t see this being casual. It’s different with him. Nothing feels off about being with him. I’ve never felt safer.”

She pauses, assessing your face and the way you relax as you start talking about Eddie. “Fuck. You’ve never seemed this relaxed when talking about Dylan. Not once.”

“I wasn’t.”

The comfort of Eddie’s chest breathing in and out underneath you as you lie right on top of him on the living room couch was soothing as you watched Twilight together. It took some convincing, but he let you press play on it and smirked over your shoulder at the blue filter.

No one had ever told him that the soundtrack was so good, though.

It was maybe a half hour into the movie, and Eddie couldn’t figure out why every guy in her school just had to have her. The smile on your face as you settled into a comfort movie was worth the watch, though.

You had texted him a few days prior, Eddie having given you his number before dropping you off at your apartment to face the real world. He was due back at his shop, having to settle management bullshit and deal with an unhappy customer or two to settle their complaints over the new apprentice. Ownership was nice, when they knew how to do their job.

When can I see you next?

When the six words lit up his screen, Eddie wanted to tell you to drive on over to his shop. He wanted to get in his truck and drive over to wherever the hell you are so he could text back Right Now. He knew your words were calculated, something not to seem too desperate to see him next, but truth be told, even if you were desperate it wouldn’t have made any difference; he was already hooked on you. He texted back to tell you the following Saturday, a day he knew he had no plans for the following day, so you could spend the night.

He felt fucking crazy for thinking it, but now that he'd had you in his bed, it felt too big without you.

Now here you lay with him, he sat in the corner of his couch while you snuggle up to him, and he could stay like this for hours, the sweet shampoo in his nose and the sound of your breaths comforting. He feels you slowly relax into him, all your body losing its tension. Occasionally, your arm would tighten around his torso or you would dig into him deeper. He appreciates the feeling, rubbing his fingers delicately along your skin.

The front door opens, and he feels you tense up as Dylan makes his way in. “Oh, great.” He mutters, and turns around to head straight up the stairs.

Your body jerks to watch him, and your eyes catch Eddie’s for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie nods, seeing the fixed line your mouth made. He leans in to kiss you, an act of care more than anything else. You lean into it, your eyes closing automatically, breath hitching. “I’ll be here.”

The length up the stairs seemed to grow as you reached the top, this act something you have been dreading for days. Having told Bethany and Skyler about Eddie, they both felt bad for Dylan. In fact, your shitty attempt at an apology was met with a smack on the head with a nearby scrap paper by Sky. You knew Dylan deserved better. Fuck, did you know that.

Here you stand in front of his door, sounds of a tv show on in the background while he presumably plays on his computer. Dylan was more the type to create joy out of finding a new favourite hiking trail or to take an archery class, but Eddie has said he’s been cooped up in his room. He goes to work, comes home and says barely two words before retreating upstairs.

Not like you blamed him for it.

Before you could hesitate any longer, you finally knock on his door. The sounds of his keys stop, and you barely hear the footsteps towards the door over your own heartbeat. The door opens to Dylan, and the disappointment when he sees you is evident, his face hardening. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

He seems to think on this, and you hope the outfit you have chosen, jeans with an oversized sweatshirt and your hair in a messy bun helps with the psychology of it, but when it came down to it, it was his decision. “…Sure.” You light up in surprise, having expected to do the apologizing in his door frame. You follow him in, and it’s an awkward moment of silence before he goes to sit in his desk chair. “Have a seat, I guess.”

Your butt hits the edge of the bed, barely scraping the box spring. “Would it be cheesy if I recommended you listened to Speak Now, track 3?”

His eyebrows furrow, and it’s so like you to recommend a fucking Taylor song for the scenario. He has to laugh. “Taylor’s Version?”

“Of course.”

“Which is…?”

“Back To December.”

He tilts his head, this situation incredibly peculiar. “Remind me how that goes?”

A smile reaches your face, and you look at your lap sheepishly.

“She apologizes…and clearly admits she was in the wrong after a person treats her very well and didn’t deserve it.” You pause, looking up at him.

“A little bit.” He admits, but the first wall is down. The look in his eye when he sees you doesn’t scream rage.

“I can’t express how sorry I am for hurting you the way I did.” You start, watching for his reaction. “First, for stringing you along… But, you were the best looking guy at that mixer, and at that moment in time I truly did want to know you. None of that was fake.” He nods, considering this. “Then it started to feel, I don’t know, comfortable. I had people telling me how lucky I was to have you, daily, and with the men out there, god they were so right.” You gulp, and he can’t seem to look you in the eye. “I felt like there must’ve been something wrong with me not to be head over heels for you, cause there wasn’t anything wrong with you.”

“When did you know you wanted to break up with me?”

“I can’t say for sure.” You tell him, and it was probably about two weeks ago, but that felt cruel. “But the moment we got back into your car I should’ve ended things.”

“You knew about him that fast, huh?” He asks you, his eyes appearing glossy. “You know, if you would’ve been honest I would have been absolutely choked, confused even, but I would have given you his number.”

You nod, because of fucking course Dylan would’ve been nice enough. “See, you’re so kind because that never occurred to me. I thought you would’ve dropped me off at home.”

“Probably.” Dylan admits, thinking about the possibilities if you’d broken up with him earlier. “Maybe not.”

“I’m so sorry for cheating on you, though. Of course, knowing your mom’s history shouldn’t have made a difference but—”

“Yeah. Kind of fucked me up.” Dylan leans back in his chair, and a smile reaches his face as he looks back to you.

“I know that if me and Eddie keep dating that I could never, ever even remotely be a parental figure, and frankly I’m not looking to be your mom, but I hope one day you can trust me again.”

“See, how do I know you won’t do the same thing to him?”

It hurt, but it was fair. “You made me feel safe. But your dad—” he cringes, “Eddie, he makes me feel free.”

Dylan turns around in his chair, considering this. “I believe that.”

“Wait, you do?”

“Yeah. When I walked in today sure, I was annoyed. Seeing my ex girlfriend in a new happy relationship with the person she cheated on me with is kind of annoying. But you were never that comfortable with me. That look of…contentment. I’ve never seen it before.” He sighs, doing another turn in his chair.

“Have you and your dad spoken about it?”

“No. I’m pretty fucking mad at him. I’ll forgive him, one day. If you’re sticking around, I'll have to, because I’m not staying with my mom and her new perfect family. But we dated for six weeks. I was only starting to think I was falling in love with you. Thank god I never got there. Even then.”

“Don’t put all the blame on him.” You jump to his defense, and wow, did this sound bad. “I made the first move.”

“Good to know.” He pauses. “That’s all I want to know, for the record. No more details… I've heard enough.”

“I am sorry, though Dylan. In another universe, we date and I let you down properly and you meet your dad’s girlfriend a few weeks later who turns out to be your ex.” You laugh, just picturing it.

“Sounds like a rom com.”

“Honestly it’s an intriguing concept.” You get up from his bed, the conversation having met its end.

“I can’t forgive you, yet. But that was the fucking apology I deserved the first time.”

You cringe at it, this memory is something you can already see haunting you at 3am.

“Can we pretend like that one never happened?”

“No. It’s great material to have in a back pocket. Who apologizes to their ex with brand new hickeys on their neck?"

“Okay, point taken!” You yell at him as you walk out the door.

“Bye.” He calls out, and the door shuts behind you.

You meet Eddie back at the couch, the movie paused while he scrolls through his phone. “What are you scrolling on?” You tease him, sitting easily back where you were before.

“Oh the uh, Facebook videos.” He says off-handedly, and you roll your eyes. “What?”

“Who uses Facebook nowadays?” You joke, knowing full you still updated yours occasionally.

He chuckles, nipping at your shoulder. You grab the remote by his leg, pressing play. “How did it go?”

“Better.” You sigh, watching Bella awkwardly ask him to hang out at the beach. “Much, much better. Doesn’t scream pure hatred in his face every time he looks at me anymore.”

“Makes one of us.” Eddie jokes, and you grab his hand to place a kiss, comforting him.

The movie continues, and Eddie has never fully paid attention to the movie before, having come out in his late 20s. It was ridiculous, to say the least. The plot thickens as Bella discovers his true nature and Eddie can't help but notice a particular smile creep on your face as Edward mutters something about a lion falling in love with a lamb. Creepy.

“Do-do you have a crush on Edward?” He asks, his voice particularly bewildered.

Your eyes bug out, and you bite back the smile breaking out on your face with much failure.

“What? No.”

“Oh, you totally do.” Eddie chuckles, shaking his head.

“Shut up.”

Another five minutes pass and your stomach rumbles, prompting Eddie to get up and walk to the kitchen to make you something. “Want something with chicken, rice, spice, what do you want, baby?” He calls out, and you now stare openly at the tv as the baseball scene is showing, and you’ve always considered Edward just to be a bit extra hot in this scene.

His question takes a moment to register. “Butter chicken?” You ask him.

He peeks his head out to the music on the screen, and immediately sees the look on your face. A big smile is plastered on your face, chin resting on your fingertips as you sit cross legged. Fucking. Teenage Vampires. He rolls his eyes, rejecting the jealousy. He isn't going to be jealous over this. Nope.

He finishes the food, putting a bowl out for you, Dylan, and himself out. “Dylan! Food if you want it!” He calls out, and he brings two of the bowls for you and him, the smell of his cooking more than welcome. “Here baby.” He kisses your forehead, sitting next to you as you take a big inhale.

“Holy shit, thank you, Ed.” You tell him, and Eddie is perplexed at your ability to forget to eat a single thing until the hunger pains kick in. He supposes his food habits at 25 weren’t the greatest, either. Now that he thinks about it, he pretty much lived off energy drinks, coffee, and the occasional hot food Wayne would force down his throat.

You inhale the food, the empty bowl on the coffee table within minutes. “Want more?” You’re hypnotized by the screen, having barely heard him. Why did he want to fight a seventeen-year-old vampire? “Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Want more?”

“Oh sure! Thank you.” The shine in your eyes brightens up as you look up at him, and it settles his jealousy. For the most part.

Eddie scoops himself and you another bowl, seeing Dylan hasn’t grabbed his yet. “Dylan! Food’s getting cold! Come eat!”

Dylan comes out, actually looking like he was in a better mood than he was before.

“Oh, shit, Twilight?” He comments, shaking his head. “She’s a hard Team Edward girl. Hard.”

“I’ve noticed. Here.” Eddie would’ve usually taken the win from his son joking with him but the jealousy that sat eating his gut was so fucking annoying. Why the fuck was he so annoyed at this stupid vampire?

“Oh it's not so fun now, is it?” Dylan calls out, running back up the stairs.

This makes Eddie smile, like things might go back to normal. The screaming match with him after you had left made him believe he truly severed his relationship with him, but this gave him an inch of hope.

Eddie gives you the second serving and you tear through it again, leaving the bowl in front of you empty. As Eddie finishes his own, he starts to lean into you, placing delicate kisses on the little exposed skin you provided for him today. He moves you so you’re lying on top of him.

The movie is about to end, Bella waking up in a hospital with frankly, an off-putting delivery of the lines she was given. His hands make their way up past the hem of your sweater, reaching to touch some skin as he continues. A pinch makes its way in between your eyebrows down at him. “What’s this about?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to touch you.” You don't believe him, but you also don't mind the touches, as they were certainly doing their job as far as foreplay goes, so you lean back into him. Just when Eddie thought the end was near there’s a whole-ass prom scene and he nearly groans in frustration. Your legs intertwine with his, and he gets a sneaky idea, peering over your shoulder to move his leg over the teensiest bit.

He moves his leg as if he was lifting one leg to rest on its foot. He moves it a bit faster than necessary, aiming for where your ass sat lower than normal on his body.

As his knee jerks into your cunt, you gasp, a heat having already gathered from the movie alone, his teasing doing nothing to help.

“Shit, sorry baby. Was just trying to move my leg.” One look at his face tells you it was a bold-faced lie and you give him an exasperated look. “What?” A series of shots that didn’t make the movie at the end show and Eddie rolls his eyes. “Prick.” He mutters under his breath to an image of Edward on the screen.

“What was that?” You ask him, unsure you even heard him right. “Eddie, were you jealous?” You ask incredulously, the very idea of it is just bizarre.

“What? No!” Eddie dismisses it far too quickly, but the satisfaction as he turns the tv off is too much to deny.

“Eddie! He’s a fictional character. You do realize you share the same name, right?” Eddie rolls his eyes, slightly ticked off he let himself get caught being jealous. You crawl up to his face, the knee against your cunt having left a throb of more want. “Besides, there’s nothing to be jealous of.” You lean in to kiss him, still lying on top of him. As you tilt your head to deepen it, Eddie feels weak as your tongue meets his own and the way you’re gasping into his open mouth is filthy. “Nothing.” You emphasize, biting on his bottom lip.

Eddie bites back a moan, his eyes rolling back as your teeth linger. You frame his face, kissing along the path of his stubble, his gorgeous jaw line, his freckled neck, the dip of his collarbone.

You pause, taking a quick pause to suck on the collarbone lightly, biting into it to make one little claim of your own. You sit back on it, admiring the way it's already started to bruise. You continue, your hand absentmindedly moving his shirt up his torso so you could kiss your way down. You lick across a nipple, and his chest stunts in response. Down his torso you go until you meet the treasure of all treasure trails. You pause, inhaling at the scent, and the musk intoxicates you so much that you can’t help yourself, licking at it. Fuck.

Finally, you get to his jean waistband, and you tug twice, making sure it's okay. Eddie moves to unbutton it for you, and you swat him away. “I wanna do it.” You tell him, picking up where he left off. You tug the jeans off, your fingers hooked meticulously so his boxers come off with them.

His cock springs free and you look up to his face. By now Eddie has lost all clear thought, and he’s sure it started the moment you started working on his collarbone. Somehow it just got better and better as you went further down, every touch of your tongue against his skin sending fucking waves through him. But the look of…elation that you give him as you free his cock, like you couldn’t believe you get to be so lucky to suck on it, had him in pure ecstasy.

You leaned in to take a long swipe on it, a slow lick from the base to the tip, and his cock is nearly down your throat before he could even register it. Relentlessly, you bob your head, fist gripping what you can't fit. You hear him swear loudly, and you let go with a popping sound. His hand finds its way to your face, framing it. You peer up at him, and his half opened eyes and a disbelieving smile gives you an unmatched sense of pride.

“Holy shit.” He mutters, his thumb crossing your bottom lip slowly.

You smile, lifting his hand from your face and into your hair, curling your fist over his so he would grip it tightly. You go back to work, mouth watering as you continue to bob up and down. Eddie slowly starts pushing on your head, forcing you to take a little bit more of him at a time. Your gag reflex fights it, and he can feel it.

“Relax your throat baby.” He whispers. “Just relax it.” You think about it, letting the tense muscles of your jaw and attempting to swallow the spit to soften. He can feel a shift, his cock still in the heat of your mouth. “Oh, good girl.”

He thrusts his hips up, and his cock finds itself down your throat, a feat you’ve never been able to accomplish before. The base of his cock meets your nose, and he stops, watching you adjust as tears come to your eyes from the stinging. “Holy shit, good fucking girl.” He mumbles, sweeping his hand through your hair. “So good.”

He pulls on your scalp so you move up and back down a few times, and you find it impossibly easy to submit yourself to him, allowing him to fuck your throat.

Eddie guides you off his cock, you look up at him for his appraisal and he frames your face to wonder how he was so lucky as he looks at your cocked-out eyes. “Oh, what a good little slut.” He mutters, pulling you up to his face.

You crawl up eagerly, and he kisses you gently, not chaste, but not quite as dirty as before. He breaks away, still connecting your foreheads. “Let’s go upstairs, yeah?”

You nod readily; lust filled eyes staring back into his. You wait patiently for him to put his jeans back over on his cock and make your way back up the stairs to his room.

As soon as his door is shut Eddie rids himself of his clothes, and you end up watching from his bed eagerly, enjoying the show. He dives onto the bed, and a squeal of giggles involuntarily leaves your throat at the wild eyes captivating his face. He dives down to kiss you, his tongue delicious against your own and he sucks on it, luring a whimper right out of you. One of his hands rubs against your thigh, and this pair of pants wasn’t something he could feel you up through. Eddie’s thumb messaged extra rough, and the touch alone manages more whimpers.

“Touch me.” You choke out, breathing heavily, breathing him. “Please.”

Eddie grins, both his hands working down to unbutton the tight jeans you wore. A hand slips in and starts to tease along the slick of your folds and your breath hitches as Eddie focuses on making you feel good. He rubs them in small circles, the touch light but enough to give you release. You can tell he isn't necessarily driving you towards an orgasm and it drives a laugh of impatience out of you against his lips.

“Baby” You whine, “Fuck.” You couldn’t even put words to it, because somehow you knew he’d find a way to twist it.

Eddie leans into your neck, the heat of his cruel laughter closing your eyes. “Oh, you wanted me to touch you and get off? Well why didn’t you say so?”

The pressure increases, a defined difference in his touch as he rubs against your clit, and the sounds he draws from you was worth the tease. He hikes your oversized sweater up, revealing skin and your bra, and as his fingers move absentmindedly he kisses your stomach with light tongue, the wet warmth sending shivers up your body as the feeling in your tummy starts to pool.

He sits up suddenly, and you whimper from the loss. He chuckles at this, pride in how pathetic he can make you feel. “Aww, poor baby.” He mocks you, and your eyebrows furrow in slight embarrassment. “It’s okay, I know you just wanna cum…gonna get you to cum all over my face.” His hands tug on your jeans, and he barely needs any help from you to yank them off, unceremoniously throwing them onto the floor. “Oh, fuck, finally.” He mutters as he sees your pussy, prettier than he remembered when he jacked himself off in the shower this morning.

He leans in, sucking on your clit and the heat expands from it into your legs and the feeling in your stomach doubles. From no release to every bit, you could already feel the knot threatening to snap. “Holy shit, fuck.” You mutter, your thighs clamping against him.

He feels the intensity in your body shift, continuing to suck on your clit rhythmically. Your breathing increases, and Eddie slowly sucks harder, and harder, and as your heels dig in his upper back, he stops.

An audible whine leaves you, the edge just right there. “Fuck, Ed.” You whimper, somehow knowing it was on purpose.

He chuckles, watching your beautiful cunt react as well. “I know, baby, I know.”

“I was so close.”

“Imagine how good it’ll feel when you do cum, yeah?” He teases, still watching your face. Your leg muscles spasm and the kisses he trails down your thigh are no help.

You whine again, toes curling and the extra fabric of your sweater self consciously curls up around your fists. “Ed.”

“I know.” He says one last time, and goes in for the kill.

There was really no delay this time, the edge was only a step away and he pushed you over, his fingers fucking into you and tongue working over time on your clit, a heat into an explosion as your legs shake and pussy spasms. Eddie pays close attention to it, admiring the glisten of your slick coating you, dripping to your ass and on his sheets and it's a piece of art.

Eddie kisses one last time against your clit, crawling back up to you to assess. “Sweetheart?”

You smile lazily at him, the orgasm having left a smile on your face and a glow amongst your features. “Hmm?”

“Wanna fuck still?” He asks, his hand petting your face softly.

Your eyes fucking light up, nodding enthusiastically. He chuckles, moving the sweater slowly up and over your head. He moves around your torso, single handedly unhooking your bra, revealing those gorgeous tits.

He looks like heaven above you, a shadow of stubble, brown eyes darkened as he takes you in, and the lust in his eyes sends a pool of wetness between your legs. Your legs open, and he sits himself between them, kissing the nearest skin he can as he puts his cock into you.

Your legs close on the feeling, mouth falling open in a silent moan. God, what a sight.

You sleepily look up at him as he puts his chest on yours, just drinking in the moment of him in you. He does the same, your hands framing his face.

He kisses you, slow and sweet. “So, so, good, Ed.” You manage out between them, sighing up at him.

He moves back a bit, thrusting into you lightly and you whimper into his mouth. He separates himself to get a good look as he continually fucks into you, and your mouth is open in unspoken words. Too fucking good.

“I know baby, I know.” He tells you. He kisses your neck, down your throat and down to a tit bouncing lightly from the impact of his cock fucking into you. He latches his tongue onto the nipple, your pussy tightening around him in response. He grazes his teeth lightly, mewls leaving your throat at the sheer pleasure mixed with pain and he lets go.

He leans up from you, taking one of your legs and placing it against his shoulder up towards the ceiling and you can feel him deeper, his thrusts starting to hit harder. Your moans are interrupted by each thrust. “Ed. So. Good. Fuck.”

His hand gently caresses your leg on his shoulder, focusing on the warmth of your pussy engulfing him. “Oh, tight pussy. So fuckable.”

“Yours.” You whine out.

“Oh, that’s right. My pussy.”

“All yours.” You choke out.

“Oh that’s fuckin right. You’re mine. All mine. My good fuckable slut.”

The words hit the right spot, making your eyes roll back. “Fuck, Ed. Cum in me.”

“Yeah, wanna be filled with me?"

“Mmhmm…”

“Oh fuck.” Eddie reaches his high faster than he was expecting, his hips jerking into you and the feeling of his cock pulsating while it spurts inside you is everything.

Eddie pants, lightly pushing your leg off his chest. He leans forward to give you a kiss, his body covered in sweat, the slick smell being something you need to memorize. “Holy shit, sweetheart."

You giggle, your legs holding him there. “Stay a while?”

“Love to cockwarm, huh, baby?”

“Only with you,” You mutter, a yawn leaving you. And if it was anything like the first time, you’ll be asleep within minutes. “So full.”

He chuckles, turning on the tv next to his bed. He tugs the blanket out from under you and pulls it over the two of you. You snuggle into his arms as he wraps them around you. “You know, we can cuddle without—” Eddie starts.

“No, no. That’s crazy talk.” You interrupt him, and he feels a smile up against his chest.

As you fall asleep, you hear one last thing from him, something you don’t think you were supposed to hear. “Beat that, you sparkly fucker.”

Somehow, the power of making Eddie jealous over a fictional vampire didn’t go straight to your head, but goddamn it felt good to be this wanted.

The tickle of the sheet against your abdomen comes to mind as you wake up on your side, calf in between Eddie’s legs and your face buried in his chest. His snoring is gentle but deep, his arm lazily wrapped around you. You figure he eventually got himself out of you, the subtle loss something you probably whined at.

You feel a smile creep its way onto your face, the satisfaction of waking up how you did fills your lungs with air. You peer your head back to get a look at his face, relaxed and unguarded, even from sex. Your eyes take in every detail of his handsome face, the slight hook of his nose, the stray hairs by his left eyebrow, the freckles scattered… God, he is beautiful.

You lean in to kiss his jawline, nuzzling your nose into the scratch of his stubble. The arm around your torso flexes, a snore interrupted. A huff of laughter escapes you, the simplicity of it just so mesmerizing. He shifts slightly, arm tightening around you as he adjusts himself. You cuddle yourself closer into his chest, inhaling the scent that was unmistakably him. No cologne, deodorant or aftershave disguising it. The smell alone makes you shudder in happiness.

You lay breathing him in for another thirty minutes before he finally stirs awake.

When he finally does, eyes squinting around as he blinks awake, arms flexing away as he yawns and stretches, you lay there patiently as he gets his bearings.

“Fuck.” His arms go limp, and he buries himself into your hair, breathing in the scent. “How long—” he yawns, cutting himself off. “How long have you been awake?”

Your shoulders shrug, and he huffs out a breath of laughter. He feels your stomach grumble against his. “Long enough, huh.” He kisses into your hair, giving you one last good squeeze. “Alright, let’s go get some food.”

You protest getting out of bed with him but the second growl your stomach makes, this one even more audible, has Eddie give a look to say it wasn’t debatable. Food first.

Down the stairs, you sit in a pair of shorts with the same over sized sweater at the kitchen island, chewing happily on the food Eddie prepared for you, a fucking snack tray. He put it in front of you, and you look up at him with an eyebrow raised peculiarly. “I fucking love snacks.” He says, grabbing a slice of cheese off your tray.

Dylan jogs into the kitchen, stealing a cracker off your plate as he dashes around the counter. “Going out with friends, be back later.” He looks dressed up for a bar, an outfit you knew he would wear to impress. It's a weird thought that you know him like this.

“Don’t be stupid, don’t drink and drive.” Eddie tells him, leaning forward on the island.

“Got it!”

“Was that good or bad, I couldn’t tell.” You ask him when the front door closes.

“I wouldn’t go towards either. He’s being civil for the sake of you but he’s much more pissed when you’re not here. Trust me.” Eddie answers you, eyes wide at the end of the sentence.

A pang of guilt hits you square in the chest. He sees your expression falter, giving you a soft look. “Don’t feel guilty. I deserve it. He damn well has a right to act this way when I betrayed him.”

Fuck, that was a level of emotional maturity you weren’t used to seeing in men. Threw you for a loop.

“So, sweetheart. I got a question for you.” You perk up, leaning towards him at the opposite end of the island counter. “Will you allow me to take you out on a proper date?”

The sentence drives your heart wild, your stomach turning itself inside out. You nod your head rapidly, gulping. “When?”

“Well it’s four o’clock now…if I drive you home so you can get ready we could probably make our 7 o’clock reservation.”

Now you find yourself in your bathroom, your makeup scattered across the counter as you dance to an upbeat playlist, your quick glance to the clock indicating you still have an hour before he comes to pick you up at 6:45.

You're driving yourself mad with the want to outdo yourself, you want a visual reaction from this man. He was kind enough to let you know it was more upscale, but that was all the detail he was willing to provide to you. You knew your initial reaction to wear something to rile him up wasn’t any good, and the warning he had given you had driven you to believe he knew you well enough to know you would if he hadn’t.

You hear the front door of the apartment close, Skyler getting home from day working at a cellphone carrier store. She hated the dumb customers but loved the commission she made when she sold plans. She places her things down, making her way straight to the bathroom to where the blaring music could be heard. “Going out somewhere?” She asks, slightly yelling to be heard over the music.

You reach to the Bluetooth speaker, turning down the volume a few notches. “Hot date with Eddie!” You tell her excitedly, leaning in to finish the last of the eyeliner.

“Oh, I didn’t know you had one planned!”

“Neither did I! He told me about the reservation just like an hour ago after he dropped me off.”

“Just like that?” She asks, leaning in.

You pause the movement of your brush on your face, using some setting powder for a final touch. “Just like that.”

Her eyebrows raised to her forehead quickly. “Okay, damn. That’s…that’s romantic.”

A smile lands on your face, and you close it to prevent the wider smile making its way to prevent teasing. “Mmmhmm.”

Face setting spray finishes your face before you run to your room to do the most daunting thing about getting ready…picking out your outfit.

It has to be something your ex hasn't taken off you either. There goes that hot blue little dress, and this green strappy number, and that really cute skirt…damn this might be harder than you thought. You used a lot of secret weapons from your arsenal with Dylan.

“I’m out of clothes!” You yell to your roommate, frustrated out of your mind.

“You still haven’t used that pretty dress you bought last month…the one still with a tag on it?” She calls out, referring to a dress you found that fit you perfectly but didn’t have anything to wear it for.

“That one is for special occasions!”

“Bitch, your boyfriend made spontaneous dinner date plans for your first date. It’s a special occasion, wear the damn dress!”

As it cascades down your body as you place it over your head, it couldn’t have been more perfect.

Sitting in your living room while waiting to be picked up should not be this jittery, butterflies doing a little dancey-dance in your stomach as Skyler absentmindedly binge-watches Buffy. You sent Eddie your address at his request about ten minutes ago, and now it's just a waiting game.

Three knocks at the door find you standing in a second, tripping over your own feet to get to the door. You open it to him, standing there with a single red rose. He's dressed in a gorgeous leather outdoor jacket, one only a man as fine as he is could pull off as well as he does and still make it look classy. He wears a pair of slacks with a dark red button down tucked loosely into it, the first three buttons undone.

Something tells you he’ll be moving his sleeves up his arms later. Fuck. He has never looked hotter.

“Hi, gorgeous. Ready?”

You nodded frantically, picking the open jacket up from the coatrack you had placed conveniently by the door. You turn back to face to your roommate to tell her not to wait up and face her, her mouth wide open. “I see it now.” She whispers, her jaw dropping again.

Your eyebrows raise to her in response but a glare reaches as your face as you turn around, something in you stupidly angry about this. Good. Look from afar.

The drive down is filled to the brim with unbridled anticipation, neither one saying much as you watch the pretty lights pass by on the way to the unspecified restaurant.

He places his hand on your thigh, thumb caressing it gently. Your dress is just long enough for his pinky to touch your leg but the rest lay on the soft material. “You look gorgeous, by the way.” He compliments you, and you suddenly realize he’s barely watching the road.

“Hmm.” You answer, nodding at the road. “My heart stopped when I opened the door, you are unfairly handsome.”

“Unfairly?” Eddie asks, voice incredulous at your word choice.

“Mmhmm.”

He chuckles, suddenly making a left turn into a group of scattered restaurants and your breath hitches, wondering, no.

Holy fuck, it is.

He pulls up and you’re peering up at what is known as the most expensive restaurant in town, the kind of place you only went with when your parents were celebrating an anniversary or something and were paying.

The kind of place that had good ass food, but you need to be able to pay minimum, 100 per person. The wine is automatically served, and the only music is a light piano melody. “Wanted to take you out for a treat. Somewhere I know damn well men your age can’t afford.”

That sentence alone drenches the lacy panties you wore.

He walks to your side after getting out, opening the door for you. The act isn’t much, something a man or two has done before him, but from him, it was like a goddamn touch of Midas.

The low light and piano music engulfs you, the conversation low as you see everyone is dressed in their best. You find yourself intimidated but Eddie walks in like he belongs.

Cause he does.

He asks for a reservation under his last name, and the waitress finds it right away. You can’t help but notice the way her eyes light up and damn, you usually don’t describe yourself as the jealous type but when it comes to him it's hard not to be.

As you get to your booth, Eddie takes off his jacket, revealing his sleeves up to his elbows, and it’s literally mouth watering. He does it so swiftly, and before you can even sit, he holds his hand out for your jacket as well. You take it off to hand it over, which he hangs ever so gently over his jacket on the hook.

Your hostess asks for drinks, Eddie asks for the drink menu and some water, you ask for water as well, hoping to find a suitable cocktail when the menu comes along.

The low lighting is flattering on him sitting across from you, and all his attention is on you, even as his eyes roam the menu. The conversation flows effortlessly, and you finally ask Eddie for his story, something even through the lust you’ve had a desire to know.

He describes growing up in Hawkins, Indiana, a rebel without a cause with a touch for the dramatics and running a role play DnD group. He describes his struggles as he failed grade twelve twice due to a large population chalking it up to laziness when in reality no one listened to his inability to sit down long enough to learn anything. He tells you about this group of friends he made in his final and successful attempt at grade 12, the ones that eventually kicked his ass into gear and none of them he would’ve been here without, and though they were all older like him, you hoped one day you’d be lucky enough to meet them face-to-face.

His attempt at college, realizing it wasn’t for him and dropping out a semester in when a local mechanic he knew offered an apprenticeship spot at his garage.

2 years into it, he finds out he enjoys it and he made enough money to move out. At 22 he meets a woman who comes into his shop with a check engine light on, and that was how he met Dylan's mom. You fought so hard not to roll your eyes as he described building a life with her and finding out she was pregnant, but it was hard not to be jealous.

Apparently she was the perfect mom from the outside, her connection to her son was unbeatable. Eddie soon found out she was having an affair with one of her co-workers, the same one she had told him time and time again that, no, of course he didn’t have a crush on her, that’s silly.

(They were fucking the whole time.)

If anything, it was the reason he had let Dylan find out so quickly. An affair would’ve made it ten times worse.

He finishes off, describing how difficult it was to raise him after she ran off with the co-worker, eventually finding something that worked for them. All in all, he was proud of the person he had raised Dylan to become, hopeful for their relationship.

You hung onto every word he told you through that meal like he had hung the moon and the stars. As he finishes, wiping his hands on his napkin as he ate, your eyes fixated on his forearms flexing, he apologizes, claiming he felt bad for talking the whole time.

“Oh, I could listen to you for hours.” It falls out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Well I’m sick of myself. Tell me about you.” He comments, so you did.

You tell him about being raised in the small town in rural America, being a teenager in the 2010s a slight difference than in the late 90s. Your stupid first boyfriend who dumped you as soon as he slept with you, your mom who meant well but often valued the opinions of others over her daughters needs and wants, your stoner of a best friend who had an opinion that you valued most of all, and how you met your current roommate through a facebook ad but it turned out you really clicked.

Your story had no beginning and no end, just going off your life based on what you felt like you had wanted to tell him.

“Dylan is a good boyfriend, by the way.” Eddie laughed at the absurdity of your sentence, all plates in front of you containing any food long gone while you had your third cocktail and Eddie drank some whiskey. Were you a bit tipsy? Yes. That sentence couldn’t have left your mouth without it. “After the lack of commitment on a stupid amount of dudes, his willingness to go all in, as we said that’s what we had both wanted, was exceedingly refreshing.” You took another gulp of it, the sugary drink hitting nicely. “He was stable, kind, thoughtful, but something was missing. In him I felt safety.” You pause, looking at him. “In you, I feel freedom.”

The conversation moved away from Dylan, thank God. As he asks for one more before the bill you can't help yourself. “Where do you see this going?” You gulp, scratching your nose, and paying close attention to your glass. “If you say anything other than long term, I might be sick.”

To Eddie, your level of honesty was refreshing. “Baby, anything but long-term has never been an option to me.”

Eddie gives his credit card to the waitress, a moon eyed girl who he had barely paid attention to. Either because he was being courteous with his attention or he just didn’t bother when you were right in front of him, it didn’t matter, but the thing itself gave you immense satisfaction. (It was the latter, for the record. Eddie had barely noticed her.)

As he helped you back into your jacket, slipping on his own, a feeling of intense satisfaction, pure bliss invaded your entire system. There was no first date that would ever be as good as this one. The set up, picking you up, the nice ass restaurant, the easy conversation, and lastly, the knowledge that when you got to his, he would be all over you, and you him.

Nothing was ever gonna be this good.

Good. You didn’t want anyone or anything but him.

Your head found his shoulder on the way back to his place, hands intertwined on your lap on the silent ride home, soft rock playing on his radio. As his truck reaches his driveway, you notice it's empty. Eddie picked up on this as your head perks up upon the observation.

“Asked if he could crash at a friend’s place tonight.” Eddie explains, having placed the truck in park, sitting back in his seat. “We got the place to ourselves.”

You grinned giddily, and you weren’t sure if it was the three and a half drinks or the troublesome feeling of your lacy panties being thoroughly soaked, but you were out his truck door before he could even register it. He climbs out, quickly shuffling behind you and he makes a giggle pour out of you as he scares you as you wait patiently at the door for him to unlock it.

He kisses your neck as he reaches in with one hand to unlock the door, and you open it and turn to him, yanking on the collar of his leather jacket. “Need you.” You mutter in between kisses, only in the entrance of the house but if you took another step without kissing him, you were gonna lose your mind. “Want. You.”

Your need is outrageously attractive, Eddie leaning into every kiss you've given him with the same amount of fervor, his hands holding your waist and fisting at the deliciously beautiful dress you had worn. You just had this dress? Waiting around? And you hadn’t blessed anyone with the perfect sight that was you dressed in it until now? What a goddamn sin.

It’ll be a shame when it hits the floor but this dress is only second to how goddamn good you looked naked as far as Eddie's concerned. Speaking of which…

Eddie continually kisses you, pulling you in against him, your breath hitches pulling your coat off and letting it fall to the floor. He backs you up to the stairs, and your foot hits the first step up, and as you’re starting to climb backwards Eddie pushes his body on yours, forcing you to sit. He takes it a step further by leaning in to kiss your neck, and your back falls onto the steps as well, just like he was hoping. Your legs open, welcoming his hips into yours.

Eddie only starts with soft kisses, just to smell your perfume and to feel your skin beneath his lips. “This dress, baby, this dress.” He pauses, a look of lust deep within his brown eyes. “Oh, fuck, this dress.” He couldn’t seem to tell you anything else, but you were thankful the gut feeling that told you to buy it was right. You tug on his collar, pulling it down his back to take it off.

Eddie assists you, letting the jacket fall clumsily down the three steps.

“My dress? This shirt!” You gasp, gripping onto it softly. “You look so good. The buttons undone on the top were..” You sigh as he kisses his way down to your shoulder. “…a nice touch.”

His hand pushes up your dress, hands roughly smoothing up your thigh, and one gets to the lacey panties. As his hand brushes the panties to take them off he gives you a manic smile. He takes them off, slowly, head against your shoulder as he does so. As the pair is taken off your foot, he inhales sharply at the sight of them, holding them in front of your body where he can see them. You see his hands touch where you soaked it all night, playing with the slick that has already gathered. “You’re not getting these back.”

He tosses them back playfully, going back to attack your neck. Eventually he leaves kisses all down your torso, and he kisses down your clothed thigh before making a big show of lifting the dress hem up, kissing along your thigh again. Only this time, your thigh wasn’t covered, and it was towards your now uncovered and absolutely throbbing cunt. As he moves closer, you start to whine, as with each kiss he adds more wetness, more tongue. Finally his mouth is right next to your core, and with his head in your skirt, he reaches for each leg to put them on his shoulders.

He goes straight in, tongue attacking your clit, your still covered feet dig into his back and a choked out moan leaves your throat. Eddie’s lips leave your pussy, his shining eyes in your sight as he popped his head from underneath your dress. “Be loud, show me how much you love my tongue all over your pussy. C’mon. Wanna hear you. If I catch you holding back again you’ll be sorry.” He leans in without another thought, and his tongue takes no time to continue.

“Oh, fuck!” You felt slightly embarrassed by it, but you were more worried about what he meant at the end there, by you’ll be sorry. If he edged you just for the hell of it, what was he gonna do as a punishment? “Your tongue, feels so fucking good, Ed.”

“Tastes—” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Tastes like heaven. Love your sweet, perfect, beautiful pussy.” The acoustics of talking through your dress didn’t make sense, but you could hear him loud and clear. “Look how wet this pussy is already for me, just dripping, oh fuck.”

“Fuck, you look, fuck, so good Ed. So fucking hot.”

“You were wet from my appearance alone?” Eddie asks, peering up at you from behind your dress.

“Since the first time I met you.” You gasp out, leaning onto your elbows on the step but finding your head heavy on your neck to look up at him.

“Jesus christ.” You smiled down at him, hand reaching forward for him. He interlocks his with yours and keeps it there as he dives back in your dress. Something feels different…the heat concentrates on your clit as he feverishly attacks it.

“Holy shit--!” You cry out, jerking your upper body forward. “Ed, holy fuck keep doing that.” His other hand joins him, hooking into you and immediately connecting with your g-spot. As you get closer, he can feel your hand tighten on his own as your moans lose all inhibition and you whine, all high pitched, the sound echoing beautifully in the empty house. “Ed, fuck—” Your orgasm snuck up on you, the heat expanding through your thighs and legs until the edge hits you in a silent scream, and you gush all over his face and your dress and the stairs.

Thank god Eddie had hardwood.

He comes out from your dress, and you look at him in disbelief. “What—” you start, still unraveling. “I don’t even—”

“C’mon.” He mutters, kissing your forehead. You follow him up to his room, knees already weak but moving anyway.

Your bodies collide with one another, lips mashing in hot, dirty kisses. “Need to fuck you now.” Eddie breathes, his hands working at the zipper on your back. The dress drops to reveal what he already knew, and that it was you weren't wearing a bra. “Perfect fucking tits, fuck.”

He tugs at his belt and untucks his pants, making him look like a horny teenager. Maybe not horny, just a few drinks in. But when he had what he called the hottest girlfriend, he felt like anyone could hardly blame him. His pants fly off and he undoes the last few buttons on his shirt before he yanks it off by the back.

When he’s finally undressed, he pauses as he gets a good look at you, the both of you ridiculously exposed. “Fuck. Am I so goddamn lucky I get to spend my night with you?”

“Just kiss me.” You tell him, reaching out for him and he lurches forward, wrapping his hands in your hair and taking your lips in a wet kiss. He leads you to his bed, taking step by step as you fall backwards onto it, and none of it is awkward, just perfect. He crawls on top as your leg makes its way around his hips, and he can’t even bother to tease you because if he doesn’t get his cock inside you he is gonna lose it.

You didn’t expect it so soon, usually getting a tease but the shock pulls out a loud moan from you, Eddie moaning at the same time as he pushes himself into you. He puts his forehead against yours, eyes closed. Yours are too, taking in the feeling of his cock inside you. No matter how many times, it's like you forgot how fucking good it felt, every time.

“God. I didn’t know a pussy could feel this…fuck.” He mutters as his words make you tighten around him. “Fucking intoxicating.” He leans in to nip lightly against your neck, whispering into your skin. “Can’t fucking get enough of it. And when I—” he lips his hips out of yours, fucking into you slowly, “—fuck you, there’s nothing fucking better.”

His hips continue, his head remaining in your neck, his body against yours as he just feels you against him. Your hands roam the muscles of his back, nails digging in as his hips gradually fuck you harder. “You always take my cock so goddamn well, baby. Such a good whore for me.”

You whimper; all coherent thought gone as the feeling of him is pure perfection.

“Fucking love your cock in me Ed! Fuck, just like- just like that.”

“Oh, I know you love my cock. You moan like a whore for it. Let me hear you baby.”

The whines you didn’t realize you were holding back came out of your mouth and he grabbed your hair harshly, and you let out a higher one. “Don’t hold back, remember?”

You nod your head, a restricted move because of his hold on you. Eddie lets go, his hand framing your face delicately. He leans in to kiss you, fierce and protective. “God, you’re so much more…more than I had ever wanted…ever hoped for…” his voice is softer now, whispering into your neck.

“Ed. You’re so good…to me. So lucky.”

He places a hand on your clit, rubbing gently at it. “Fuck, baby I’m gonna cum. Cum with me?”

“What am I gonna say, no? To that?” you gasp out. He chuckles softly, the laughter hot against your neck.

“Close.” You tell him and he picks up the pace, holding back a bit for you. “Eddie I—” and a full moan leaves your lips and as you tighten around him, his hips rutting into you.

Eddie moans loudly as he cums, a sound you wouldn’t blame angels for if they had used at the gates of heaven.

His weight is heavy on you, having collapsed. He kisses whatever skin he can reach, your shoulder, collarbone, jawline, corner of your mouth before wrapping your lips in a kiss you can only describe as breathtakingly romantic.

Fuck were you falling, falling hard. And as Eddie lay on top of you for a solid ten minutes, caressing your skin and kissing you softly, still inside you while basking in the afterglow, he is thinking the exact same thing.

Also that he needs to clean the stairs before Dylan gets home.

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read comments and replies and tags and as always reblogging is the best way to support fic writers on tumblr

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