#his little coffin bed

[warrior-komatsuhime]

You know the popular hc that most ghosts believe Clockwork is a myth? And Danny is the only one to have ever interacted with Clockwork. And all the other Ancients know him because CW is an Ancient as well. But what if most the Ancients think that CW is a myth as well? Because CW has been chained and bound a lot longer than Pariah Dark ever existed by Observants of the past. CW would've been unbound when PD killed the Observants, but PD bound CW himself before killing all the old Observants. PD kept the younger/ new ones alive because even though he's a tyrant he knew that the Infinite Realm needs at least a few Observants.

[tonycries]

Unmistakably Yours - G.S.

Synopsis. In which the strongest bends space and time - literally - after coming back from deatḣ, to do what he’s always wanted to do - you.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, best friends to lovers, Satoru goes a little (very) INSANE, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, manga spoilers, use of jujutsu powers, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, féral Satoru, heinous things, happy ending, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.5k

A/N. Yeahhh that poll was cooking up something devious heheh. Gege give me back my man.

Gojo Satoru was going to kill someone.

He was going to kill someone and it didn’t matter who. It didn’t matter how. It didn’t even matter if he had to haul his broken body - scarred and barely-healed - out of this stiff infirmary bed, because the great Gojo Satoru awoke and the world shook.

Because you weren’t here.

“Ah. The oh-so deadest one, I see you’re awake.” Satoru flinches at the sharp, exhausted drawl from his left. 

Slowly, he blinks away the haze in his aching eyes, desperately trying to adjust to the cold room. Shoko’s voice was too loud. The lights too bright. His waiting arms too empty - where were you? 

With a low hiss, Satoru’s body is moving before his mind, sitting up like a man possessed. Goosebumps prickle his skin as the thin blanket falls off his shoulders. Temples throbbing because the world was spinning and spinning and you-

“Calm down, Satoru.” Shoko sounds almost panicked now - as much as she could, anyway. Uselessly trying to push him back onto the mattress. “I don’t care if you’re the ‘strongest’. Sukuna did a number on you and you have to rest-”

“Where is she?”

---

It was the final nail on your coffin - that slight, steady rumble beneath your feet. So fleeting that you’d written it off as your weary brain, too goddamn tired from today. Heaving out a sigh, you rub your eyes in frustration, so fucking alone in this too-large penthouse. 

Fingers jittery, you rifle through your best friend’s closet for his box of blindfolds, because you knew he’d be complaining about the sensory overload at the infirmary if- when he woke up. Though, you think that was more an excuse for Shoko to send your wrecked self away than anything. 

Grabbing a few more than necessary, your heart lurches as you eye that dusty framed photo by his bedside. A much younger Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, and you - probably the last time any of you smiled so carelessly. 

One dead and the other just on the cusp of it.

He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. He’s the strongest, right?

Swallowing heavily, you try to put your mind to something - anything - other than the memory of that battlefield and the blood. So much blood. Everywhere. 

God, you should’ve stayed. What if Satoru-

That was when you felt it. 

The tight, uncomfortable feeling of atoms standing at attention all around you. The air was so stagnant and heavy that it was almost hard to breathe. 

You don’t know how you realize what it is - but you don’t get the chance to wonder about it either. Because the thought has barely even crossed your mind before everything else is thrown at the window at those two words. 

Hoarse, and whispered, voice ever-so-slightly cracking at the end. One you recognized, one you knew you always would.

“My love?”

Satoru.

It was a miracle that you didn’t get whiplash from how fast you whirled around to face the doorway - and it was an even bigger miracle that you didn’t trip at how your legs were carrying you to that tall, familiar flash of white hair without a second thought. 

Hell, you don’t think you’ve ever run this fast in your life, and it still wasn’t quick enough when Satoru engulfed you in his arms. Letting out a soft sigh as he hugs you tight enough that it hurt, like he never wanted to let go. 

All familiar warmth and a rapid heartbeat that matched your own. 

A shiver runs down your spine at that scent of the infirmary, tinged with something so dangerously metallic, miles away from the usual hints of pine and candy. But you only pull Satoru closer - not even realizing the tears staining his snug t-shirt, nails digging into his sculpted back. 

“S-Satoru?” you murmur wetly, as if you still couldn’t believe it - even when you were in his strong arms. 

It killed you to pull away, and Satoru wasn’t any better, pulling you firmly to his heated body with a guttural grunt as soon as you showed any signs of shifting away. Grip almost bruising, fingers tight on your hips. But you didn’t mind, why would you? 

Because the strongest was nothing under your will - he always was. And it’s only once you break the embrace just a fraction of an inch that you confirm that this actually was Satoru - your Satoru. 

“You’re here.” you breathe out unsteadily, not knowing where to look first - his heaving chest, as if he’d run all the way here, or those faint scars along his exposed skin. Jagged, running down his pale skin like he was too impatient - too distracted - to let them heal properly. Satoru’s face was scarily blank, pretty lips set in a tight grimace like every second you weren’t locked in his arms killed him. 

He doesn’t answer - like he didn’t know himself. Nervously, you raise your eyes to meet his and-

Oh, Satoru, he was here. Alive.

Looking like he was ready to make sure that no one else was.

You just wondered where they’d pile all the casualties. Too many to bury at Jujutsu High if those tiny blue flickers of lightning at the corners of Satoru’s eyes were anything to go by. 

Gaze hooded, pupils blown, he didn’t look at you with that usual warmth. No, he looked at you like a man that had crawled back from death just to rip you apart. And you had half the mind to wonder whether this was some special grade curse that had just come disguised as your best friend. 

“Are you okay?” you try again, raising a hand to cup his cheek. “Toru?”

Oh, you might as well have just signed your own will, because no sooner are the words out of your mouth before Satoru’s jolting. Like the mere sound of that stupid little nickname from high school was enough to shock him to his very core. 

Electrify him just enough to finally look at you like it was the first time. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. “My love.”

There it was again, that quiet, strained little mantra. 

Followed very closely by the deafening slam! of the door behind him, so hard that you spy one of the hinges rattling off. Startled, you look over Satoru’s broad shoulders just to catch a glimpse of the single, large handprint charred into the wood, slight steam wafting from his hand.

Shit. He’s lost it.

Almost like the strongest has forgotten his restraint - or didn’t care about it either way. Heated, you wondered what this boded for you. 

Will you be lucky number one on his kill list? You wonder, as Satoru presses his mouth right above your pulse. Racing. Dangerous. Feeling the rapid thump! thump! thump! under his lips.

Breathing you in, dragging his nose up, up, up- He mutters into your skin, “Y’can kill me if you don’t want this.” Will you go down - if there’s anyone left to remember, that is - as the casualty that surely and officially signaled the honored one’s descent into madness? Only the second best friend he had to kill?

Or, Satoru pulls away slowly from his little haven, breath ghosting your lips as he gasps out a shaky, “No God can take me away without doing this.” Will it be something else entirely?

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. 

Because fuck, how could you not? This is Satoru, and this is all you’ve ever wanted since those late night convenience store runs in high school, hand-in-hand and teleporting away from a furious Yaga.

The same Satoru that had cockily winked at you goodbye before facing Sukuna - leaving you crying with nothing to hold onto but those cold, cold hands and wishes that you’d have just fucking kissed him before. Maybe even put aside your pride to just tell him.

But none of that mattered now, because Satoru was so desperate - drinking you in like you were the last breath of air on Earth. Like it hurt more to part with your lips than it was to be cleaved in half.

Such a mess of teeth and saliva, and you were addicted. Drunk off his sweet taste - like candy, almost, and those cheap mochi he always got from downtown - and the electricity pricking at you each time your skin grazed against his.

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good.

Gasping, you pull away for air - impossible with the way Satoru was like a madman, kissing your swollen lips again and again and-

“Toru!” you squeal, muffled through his lips. “Aren’t you-” His mouth drops into a soft oh! at the delicate strings of saliva snapping in the non-existent space between you two. Surging forward like he couldn’t help himself. “Battlefield- mmpf- now?”

With a pained grunt, Satoru finally halts, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. And if you were in any better state of mind, maybe you’d have noticed the brief flicker of blue lightning all over his body. The way the lights flicker. 

“Special curtain.” he pants against your open mouth, a muscled thigh shoving between your weakening legs. “Time barely passes in here.”

You don’t know what your head is reeling more from his words or his hands - hands that kill - caressing you like a lover everywhere. Unable to decide between your hips, to your ass, to your pretty pretty face. Kiss-bitten lips uttering, “Everyone’s waiting for you.”

“So?” Satoru lets out a humorless laugh. About an octave higher than usual, like he was at the end of his rope now. Eyes hazy and glowing, looking as if it took everything in him to not just tear off that uniform and take you right now. 

“But-”

“Shut up and let me ruin you, my love.”

Your back is hitting the mattress before you can even start to wonder what the fuck is happening. One second standing at the doorway and the other all sprawled out on Satoru’s bed.

Besides yourself, you blurt out, trying to make sense of the situation to both of you two. “Did- did you just teleport us?”

“Don’t know.” he answers. And Satoru sounded like he genuinely didn’t know, as bewildered as you were. Powers acting before him - way, way before he can think - as he fists your shirt in his hands. “Don’t care.”

And you half wondered whether Satoru was even aware of what he was doing as he pulls, down, down down. 

Rip!

It tears through the air - both the sound, and the way he’s just pulling your shirt to shreds. All depravity and no repentance as Satoru throws it behind God-knows-where. Buttons hitting the floor at a maddening little rhythm to which he was slowly losing his sanity. 

He was kissing you like he was angry - taking it out on your poor clothes. Because before you know it, he’s pulling your bra off. Fingers searing on your skin, skirt just tatters on the floor. 

“Waited too long.” he groans, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Always wanted to do this.” And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into the valley of your breasts, “Ever since I first saw you and oh-”

That was it - only one look at your panties, all flimsy and drenched - and you’re back to wondering what Satoru’s kill count would be. You shudder as his eyes widen, letting out a strangled gasp from some deep, primal part of himself. Voice so broken and starved as he muses, “-can’t believe I waited this long.”

Shit. You weren’t making it out alive.

Immediately, Satoru’s dropping further down the mattress, easily pushing your knees up all the way till they were at your breasts. 

And it was so unfair. 

Unhair how he was still fully clothed, while you were spread so shamefully. Unfair how he was sliding his underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Up and down, up and down up and- Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertips before pulling, marveling at how sinfully soaked they were. 

And it was like something snapped - maybe his whatever restraint he had left, probably you by the end of this. Because just a split-second later, Satoru’s tearing right through your panties. Not even taking a second to breathe before burying his pretty face into your dripping cunt. 

Unfair how you were liking it so dangerously. Being so used. 

And Satoru knows - he thinks, with whatever rationality he has left intact - that he wants to admire your pretty lil’ cunt. To finally drink in what he’s been dreaming about for years all these lonely nights. But, no, that’s for later - for a different Satoru, one that didn’t feel like he was going to fucking die if he didn’t taste you right now. 

“Ah! Hngh- T-Toru-” you arch into his hot tongue, as he licks erratically up your folds, long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Lapping at your juices like he couldn’t stop.

“Tha’s right.” words muffled into your cunt. Throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders. “Gimme more, use me. Use me- fuck fuck fuck- yeah.”

He sounded as delirious as you were already, flinching with each word spat into your sensitive cunt. Drunk off your pussy and so messy, like he was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

And it’s all you can do to sob so needily as he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit. Seemingly unable to decide between sucking on it harshly and dipping into your sloppy hole. In and out. Wanting everything. Anything. 

“Fuck. S’too deep. Sh-shit.”

“Oh yeah?” he’s grinning, a cruel, cold little grin. You can feel it as he rolls his tongue against your clit over and over. “S’not deep enough.”

You pathetically try to close your legs around his head in shock, as the tips of his long fingers spread open your pussy further, teasing your entrance. 

But who were you against the strongest? The one that got everything handed to him on a silver platter since birth? Except you - until now, that is.

Because Satoru’s swatting thighs back open like it was a mere inconvenience, and feel your cunt clench in- fear? Anticipation? as you realize how gently he was throwing you around like a ragdoll, in comparison to that door from earlier. 

“No.” he sounds absolutely wrecked, babbling around your throbbing clit. “Need this- need you.”

And then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, so greedily that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Drinking in your pretty gasps of his name as he roams for that one spot he knows will have you seeing stars - only the best for his girl, right? The only thing on his mind right now, like a predator starved.

You can only tug on his hair and buck wildly underneath him, inching Satoru closer to where he was desperately searching for. Close - so close. 

“Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. 

But it wasn’t fast enough. 

Not for Satoru, at least.

Even through the haze in your eyes, you could make out that brief flash of electric blue in-between your legs, eyes widening as ah-

That cheat. 

You wondered if he even knew he was using his powers right now. Or whether Satoru was too far gone at this point. Way too smug with the way he hits that one spot. Hard. 

Ah, you quiver as something so dark sparks in his eyes. Looking like a man starved, that had finally come across his favorite meal. Moving with frightening accuracy as he pumps his fingers in and out, hitting it each and every time. 

“Shit, ngh-” you let out a shrill moan, “It’s too good. You’re so fucking-” 

One hand was so messy toying with your dripping entrance - the other digging into your hips. Dragging your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. 

Hard enough that you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. If you even made it that long, that is, if the tiny shocks of electricity at his fingertips told you anything. 

Desperate. Violent, even.

So it only makes sense that your orgasm was the same. “Fuck- m’cumming m’cumming, fuck fuck fuck-” You’re shaking as you cum, crying out Satoru’s name and delirious little moans that you’d otherwise be embarrassed of. 

And he doesn’t stop. Not when you’re blinking your vision back. Not when you’re shying away from his tongue, the stars behind your eyes too much with each flick of his tongue. 

“S’too much- too- fuck, sensitive, Toru.” you whine, big fat tears clinging to your lashes. 

Ah, there it was again. Just when Satoru was beginning to think that he might just be veering into a state of mind that could be considered sane - you have to call him that goddamn nickname again. And it’s only driving him wild. 

Well, he muses, fumbling with the hem of his t-shirt, it’s really on you then. 

You let out a fucked-out little whine as Satoru finally takes his shirt off, revealing such milky, toned skin. All sharp curves and dips like he was sculpted so meticulously, going down, down, down and- Your breath hitches at the large, pink scar standing out of his torso, so uneven and fresh that you feel a fresh wave of tears - different ones, this time. 

You take a steadying breath, eyes unmoving from the injury. “Satoru-”

“No.” Satoru’s tone is firm, so different from the metallic tinkling of his belt. He was moving now, shifting in between your legs to kiss those tears away. “Need this. Need you. Need you need you need you so bad-”

“But your…” you trail off. The words catch in your throat as he finally unbuckles his belt, pulling down his pants just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, soaked in precum. 

He was so…massive. Now, you expected your best friend to have a big dick, but this was ridiculous. He was so intimidatingly long, thick enough that you could feel the slick beading out of your sloppy hole already.

Yeah, you definitely weren’t making it out alive. 

Satoru sees it too, of course, because his cock twitches furiously. A low hiss leaving those pretty pink lips before he’s spitting on your quivering cunt. Once. Twice. 

And you know that if this shameless bastard could use six eyes to find your g-spot, then he could’ve done the same for this. But, no, he lets some of it miss, splattering against your inner thigh, smearing all over as Satoru thumbs in his saliva with your slick. 

God, he was treating you like some object. Wordlessly throwing your legs over his shoulders, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy. 

And then you feel like you’re been split apart - because Gojo Satoru was unforgiving. As was his aching cock. He’s barely even pressing through the first ring of muscle, and you already feel like he’s pushing all the way into your lungs. 

“T-Toru.” you yelp, glancing down at the way your pussy was stretched so lewdly around his thick cock. Quivering as he keeps pushing and pushing and- no mercy. Absolutely none at all. “Can feel you so deep inside ngh- I don’t think I can…” 

“No no no no no-” he’s panting into your open mouth. Fucking into your heavenly cunt in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to squeeze deeper inside. “Need this. Want this. Always did. God, fuck fuck fuck, you can do it-”

“But-”

God, Satoru can’t help but kiss you - to shut those cute lil’ whines up more than anything, he’s sure he’ll cum right there and right now if he didn’t. 

Because Satoru wasn’t any better. Body bowing into yours, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth falling into a delirious oh! as he finally bottoms out. Balls smacking your ass too hard, your pussy too tight, you too beautiful underneath him. 

Blindly, he reaches for the headboard - white-knuckling it so hard that it’s a wonder it doesn’t break. 

It does - and later you’ll find a pile of splinters behind the bed. It’s just that neither of you notice. Too high off the feeling of Satoru’s cock pushing inside you. You’re clawing at his back now, gasping for air. Letting him fold you in half to filthily lick away the tears pooling at your cheeks. 

“Shit- y’got this, my love. You gotta- ah- Breathe-” he can’t even speak properly, sharp tongue so heavy. Eyes glowing with such insanity as he rocks his hips harder into yours.

He was right - you needed to breathe. To finally wrap your head around the fact that this was Satoru - your best friend - the same one that binge-watches sappy rom-coms with you after every breakup. Every. Single. One. Somehow, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point. And he was out of control now.

Funny, how in all his dreams when you were screaming his name - Satoru was always suave, methodical, playing with your pretty pussy like a fine instrument. Right now, he was anything but. Sloppy - like he didn’t have enough time, never would, even in this room where time slowed.

“Don’t you run away.” he grunts at the way you’re so adorably torn between running away from his cock and bucking for more more more- “Waited twelve fucking years for this. N’ m’gonna take it.”

You almost sob at the pressure as he laces his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper. Down, down, down. “S’too good, Toru. Wan’ more-”

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. Eyes widening almost comically, a fucked-out smile spreading all over his face. “Y’want more even when you’re filled to-” He traces an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “Here?”

“Yes.” you gasp as he reaches down to toy with your throbbing clit, drawing tight, frenzied little circles. Balls smacking your ass so painfully, thumb pressing down right where his tip was hitting your cervix - as if he used six eyes to see. “Always wanted more. Always have, Toru.”

And you swear you could see something physically snap inside Satoru. Because his eyes glaze over, grin dropping instantly from his face. 

If you weren’t so cockdrunk maybe you’d have caught the way the bedroom lights flicker, the one down the hallway bursting. 

“Always, huh?” he’s muttering, grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Wanted more like me?” Rocking into you so sloppily, cock twitching so painfully as he speeds up. Fingers just as desperate - as depraved as his hips.

And this time, he doesn’t even have to use six eyes to find that one spot. Knowing your body well enough to hit it over and over until you were sobbing. “More more more more- fuckin’ take it then.”

At this point you didn’t know whether Satoru was always this ruthless in bed or you’d just broken him. It felt so good that it was almost scary. And your delirious mind wandered into the thought that maybe the bed would break - and your bones to follow. 

Well, they would have if Satoru hadn’t been using reversed cursed technique. But you didn’t need to know that just yet. 

“Satoru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic.  “I’m…”

“Close?” Satoru’s grunting, smacking his lips against your own.

It’s laughable, really, that muffled question - because Satoru knew you were close. Losing his fucking mind, actually, at how you were squeezing so hard around him. Balls squeezing so painfully right now, but he wanted you to cum first - needed you to cum first.

“Yeah, so close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

“Then cum. Fucking cum, wan’ed this so bad.” he’s babbling deliriously. Little sparks of lightning visible even to your glassy eyes, fingers humming with a dangerous little energy that stimulated you so good. “Yeah, yeah yeah yeah fucking cum, wanna hngh-”

And then you are. So sudden and hard that you don’t even realize it at first. Just that you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. Rocking your hips into Satoru’s like such a slut. 

Oh, if heaven was really then the part of Satoru that can still form coherent thoughts thinks this just might be it. 

Because only the sight of you creaming all around his swollen cock and he’s cumming and cumming so hard that it hurts. Thick, hot ropes of cum that he can’t seem to stop. Doesn’t want to stop, and God he thinks he could cum until you beg and beg and beg it’s too much. Until you’re yelling for-

“Mercy!” you moan, head spinning with how fucking overfilled your pussy was. “Please, Toru-”

Satoru lets out a slight gasp, “Mercy?” Chuckling so cruelly at your dazed nod, “No mercy, my love. None at all.”

And God, it was so fucking hard to look at him too - eyes half-lidded and miles away, flushed and looking like he was anywhere but laid out on a hospital bed just a few minutes ago. In fact, Satoru looked like he was in heaven on Earth as he only milked his painfully hard cock on your snug pussy.

Pretty. Always so fucking pretty. 

And he kept whispering that, over and over in your ear as you both ride out your highs. Oh how he loved you.

Your eyes fly open, and Satoru knew he’d said that out loud. Shit. But, well, with the way you were immediately pulling him to collapse into your arms, he thinks he really doesn’t mind.

“Love you, love you. Love you so much. Always did, always wanted to love you- to fuck you.” You barely even notice him marking down your neck, sharp canines digging into the flesh like he wanted to break something. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood. “To ruin you.”

It was oozing out of you, both Satoru’s cum - dribbling down your legs in thick globs, pooling on the overpriced sheets below - and his power. Jolts of electricity running down all the way from your poor, abused cunt to your hazy mind. 

“So do it.” The air was crackling - crackling with intensity and the smell of jujutsu. It was in your veins, in your words as you whisper, “Ruin me. You’re the- ngh- only- one f’me, Toru. Always was.”

The lights go out. All of them - all across Tokyo, in fact. Shining so bright that it was blinding, until they burst. The last thing you see are his eyes - electrified with blue lightning, burning into your brain. 

And then it’s black. 

---

“I’ll be back before ya know it, my love.” he whispers against your forehead, cooing at the way you stir sleepily. “Gotta pest to take care of.”

Taking down that curtain wasn’t the hard part, the hard part was actually fucking regaining his senses enough to do so. 

And now, all cleaned up and fucked to sleep on his bed, you were looking so unbearably delectable that it made some part of Satoru just want to stay behind this curtain. To forget the waiting sorcerers on the battlefield. Saving the world be damned.

Well, no matter, Satoru had time. He was the strongest, right? After all, how could he give you the world if there was no world to give?

“N’ when I’m back, m’gonna kiss ya to death till you go out with me. Till everyone knows you’re unmistakably mine.”

A/N. GET IT - that unmistakable bit from the panel? 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[cherienymphe]

The Ghost of Harding Manor

Friedrich Harding x Reader

Summary: Your marriage is haunted by the ghost of the wife who came before you, and the walls of Harding Manor bear witness to your husband's descent into madness.

warnings: Dub-Con, loss of virginity, obsession, unsure if stalking counts if it takes place in your own home, implied chronically ill!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics

♱

You were not Anna.

You were reminded every day from the moment you wed Friedrich Harding and became his missus that you were not Anna. Anna who was perfect and said the right things and walked the right way and was a walking temptation to the man she called her husband. Anna who—even in death—called to Friedrich from beyond and was nearly successful if it were not for strong hands and strong voices keeping the dark-haired man from throwing himself into her coffin with her. Anna who was well on her way to giving your husband a third child.

Anna whose touch still lingered in this home and along these walls and in the long dead flowers that Friedrich refused to throw out.

Anna who haunted you much more than she haunted your new husband.

Illness had not just taken the angelic beauty, but her three children with her, one never even getting the chance to take his first breath. In your solitude, you sometimes thought that you did not know what was worse—their two daughters remaining and forcing you to fill the void the other woman left in multiple lives…or your life as it were as you were forced to give Friedrich a whole new family and reason for existing.

You knew from the moment you became betrothed that you had a heavy vacancy to fill…but it seemed that Friedrich had no intention of you filling it.

“He does not touch me, mother.”

The words were whispered in the quiet home one day, and you looked around, ignoring the feel of the older woman’s gaze in favor of imagining what this house must have been like before the tragedy. You imagined how loud it must have been with two animated little girls running around. You imagined how good Friedrich must have been with them, and thoughts of Anna welcoming him home with a kiss and her arms full made your heart sink.

You were not her.

The advice of your mother went into one ear and out the other. You had long accepted that you were a poor replacement that Friedrich could hardly stand to look at. You were alone on your wedding night and again the night after that and the night after that. You were always alone, and the few glimpses that you got of your husband since the wedding day only proved fruitful in your gazes meeting for a stolen moment…and then he was gone again.

You were always alone, and he was always gone…

Until the morning you would not rise from your bed.

The fever struck you in the night, and by the time morning came you felt weighed down by sand. Any strength you had was used to keep your breathing as even as possible, unable to even muster an attempt to open your eyes and tell your cold husband that you were well. Conversations swirled around your head for what felt like days, and in between the feverish dreams, you caught diagnoses and assurances here and there.

“It is merely a cold,” the doctor told Friedrich. “Her body is fighting it quite well, and she will be like new in a matter of days.”

You recalled agreeing with the assessment, feeling more fatigued than anything else—you’d always been rather sickly—but your peace had been broken for the first time in months. The voice of your husband had reached your ears—so broken and angry and unlike anything you had experienced with him.

“...and how exactly did this come about? She never even leaves the house, for God’s sake.”

You heard the rustle of fabric and heavy steps and an even heavier sigh.

“In a matter of a night, my wife has taken ill, and I am assured that she will recover in no time, but I have heard that before…” his voice shook. “I will not bury another wife—I cannot!”

It all seemed so unlike him, and so you convinced yourself that you merely dreamt it up. The fever was clouding your mind and making you conjure up your innermost desires, namely Friedrich caring for you for more than just a societal duty to bear sons that would carry on his name. You allowed yourself to slip into darkness and dream some more.

A masculine hand in yours, a finger tracing patterns into your stomach through the fabric of the bedding, soft lips brushing along your fingers and facial hair tickling your flesh. Your mind conjured up all sorts of things that simply could not be true, and yet when you fully opened your eyes for the first time in days, you were not alone.

It was not easy to place the look upon Friedrich’s face as he stared down at you, towering over your bed with a smoke in hand and dark circles beneath his eyes. He did not look well himself, and you could not help running your eyes over him, wondering just how much sleep he had gotten this past week. The room was quiet as you two just stared at each other, and just as you parted your lips to inquire about his own health, he was abruptly turning away from you. His voice rang throughout the house as he demanded someone send for the doctor.

It was only hours later that it was professionally confirmed that you were almost as good as new and would probably only have to put up with a light cough for the next day or two. Hearing those words relieved you, and when you looked up at your husband, you could not tell if he shared your relief. You frowned up at him as the doctor poked and prodded at you, wondering, for the first time, just what the dark-haired young man was thinking.

He only stared back.

In fact, he only ever stared these days.

When you were walking through the silent house much like the ghost that haunted your marriage, you could feel the heavy weight of his stare pressing down on you. It was not easy to ignore—nor did you want to—but whenever you turned, no husband was there to meet your gaze. The only sign of his presence was the flutter of a broad shadow passing along the walls. He was much bolder when you found your nose buried in a book, and oftentimes when you lifted your gaze to catch him, he did not shy away.

“Yes?” you would wonder, voice quiet as both uncertainty and unease filled you.

Sometimes he did not answer, merely content to gaze at you, and other times he took his time in responding. He would exhale smoke and it would billow between you, briefly obscuring his features before he swiped his tongue between his lips.

“Supper will be ready within the hour.”

You would nod, and he would make no move to leave, and you would be forced to turn your eyes back to the pages before you…resolving to ignore the silent presence in the doorway that was your husband. You found yourself doing that a lot—resolving to ignore his presence. Otherwise, you would never get anything done.

His gaze clung to you when you ate, the dinner table silent outside of the sound of food and utensils hitting dishes. When your eyes would meet, you would send him a small smile, thinking to yourself that your marriage was just progressing slower than most, but he never returned it. He never smiled at you, only preferring to stare. When you ate, when you read, when you found yourself outside amongst the flowers…even when you slept.

You had never once shared a bed, so it was startling to answer a knock on your door one night, coming face to face with your other half. Your nightdress kissed your feet, and the sleeves tickled your hand, and despite that, Friedrich gazed at you as if you were standing naked before him.

“I only wish to make sure you are well throughout the night.”

You did not know how you felt both relief and disappointment, but you managed.

It took you some time to respond, nodding with a small ‘of course’. You still let out a cough here and there, and you did not miss the way Friedrich’s head would abruptly turn with every heave of your chest. Your marriage may have been cold and strange, but it was obvious that your husband had grown paranoid with the fear of burying a wife for a second time. You imagined that it would not reflect well on him.

…and so you laid beside him and closed your eyes and even in the cover of darkness…

You could feel his gaze.

It unsettled you, and you had half a mind to seek the advice of your mother the next time your parents came for a visit, but she—ever zestful and bold—completely took hold of your train of thought.

“...and when might I expect a grandchild?”

There was a teasing smile on her lips as she regarded you, and you merely sighed before taking a sip of your tea.

“You know my situation, mother,” you murmured, setting your cup aside.

Father was with Friedrich, and you hoped that he was enjoying his company much more than he seemed to his daughter.

“Yes, but that was months ago, and I can tell that things have shifted.”

At that, you frowned, turning to face her.

“Whatever do you mean?”

Your marriage was just as cold as it was in the beginning, only now a strange voyeuristic atmosphere had descended over it. Your husband had gone from ignoring your very presence to shadowing your every footstep in the house. Her light chuckle made you flinch, and she gazed at you as if you were playing some joke on her.

“Darling,” she took a sip of the warm drink. “I saw the way he was looking at you when you welcomed us through those doors.”

Your frown deepened.

“That is the gaze of a man fighting with all of his might to resist his beloved wife.”

Now it was your turn to think she was playing a jest with you, but you had no more time to linger on that for the voices of your father and husband soon filled the house as they made their way inside. You could only swallow as mother stood to welcome father back, slowly rising as your own husband neared you. When you traced his face with your eyes, you noticed the ease upon it, and you felt relieved to see that he and your father got on well. He looked like any normal man alight with the mirth that came from being in the company of other like minded men, and so you disregarded your mother’s words.

As you stepped past him to approach your father, your back felt aflame with the heat of a familiar gaze.

You saw them out and wished them safe travels and your father placed his hand on your cheek before he went, speaking good health over you. While he may have been used to your sickly nature, any instance that required bed confinement for his daughter always worried him. He wanted to leave with the trust that you would be well looked after…and well looked after you were.

“Your father was very transparent with me about your health.”

Friedrich towered over you as you sat at the table, having been unsure where this conversation was heading when he interrupted supper. A small container was in his large hand, and when your gaze lifted from the bottle to his eyes, you swore that you saw him falter, his words momentarily stuck in his throat.

He placed the bottle down before you, his hand remaining on the table, and the scent of him filled your nose.

“I have gotten the doctor to make a tonic for you. You are to take a few drops with your meal once a week… It will keep your strength and health up.”

He only moved again to open it, and despite the fact that you felt it was hardly necessary—having survived so long without it—one look into the eyes of your husband told you that not only could it not hurt, but for his peace of mind, you needed to do this. You two gazed at one another as he held it in his hand, and after some time, you realized what he wanted. Parting your lips for him, you swallowed down the few drops he administered to you, but even after you swallowed the herbal mixture down…Friedrich continued to stand over you.

It was in this moment that you finally started to voice your thoughts, asking him why he stared at you so when his movements completely stumped you.

His thumb found the corner of your mouth, startling you, and it remained there for some time before he brought it to his lips, tasting whatever had been lingering there. His blue eyes—normally so cold and unreadable in your presence—suddenly glinted with a look you could not place. It happened so fast that you would have missed it, but you did not, and the intensity there was enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Friedrich parted from you as if nothing had happened, and you watched him round the table to take his place across from you once again. It took you some time to pick up your utensils again, rejoining him in eating your supper, and now it was your turn to stare at him…unable to forget that shadowy something that passed through those blue eyes.

He was staring again.

The wind howled outside of the window with the storm and flashes of lightning lit up the otherwise dark room from time to time and your chest and shoulders moved evenly as you feigned sleep. You stared at the wall before you, and Friedrich stared at you. If at all possible, he grew more shameless with it, and if you were a normal loving couple just so wrapped up in each other—as you were sure he was with Anna—then some part of you might have found it romantic.

Tantalizing even.

As it were, you were not, and as silly as it seemed…you felt hunted in your own house.

You constantly felt like prey under his ever watchful eye no matter how justified he made it seem. Concern for your health, making sure no food disagreed with you, seeing how fair you slept. The paranoia of losing another wife suffocated you both for different reasons and in different ways, and you felt as if you were moments away from choking. Your mother’s voice crawled through your mind, and words that you had once dismissed now rang through your thoughts like a melody.

The room glowed with another flash of lightning…and you felt the gentle feel of fingers on the side of your face. You sharply inhaled, startled from both the sudden touch and the foreignness of it. His hand rested on your hair, ensuring that he could gaze upon your face no doubt, and when you felt the bed jostle, you closed your eyes. His lips found your tresses, and his hand found your shoulder, and you both heard and felt him breathe you in.

Friedrich’s nose traced the curve of your ear and he descended until his face was buried in the crook of your neck. Despite all of this, your heart remained steady, and you remained still as he gently pressed his lips to your skin and traced patterns through your sleeve. You felt his larger frame shifting closer, and at that—at the feel of him pressed so closely to you to where you could feel every curve and ridge of him—you shuddered.

Yet you still feigned sleep.

“You will never be her,” the words he murmured into your skin had your brows furrowing. “...and I will never let you.”

Contradictory to the words that left his lips, the hand on your arm found its way to your waist, his arm completely circling you and holding you to him. That was how he remained throughout the night, and only when you accepted the permanence of his position, did you finally allow yourself to find sleep.

It was dreamless, and when you woke up, you woke up alone.

You chose to ignore the relief that filled you at that discovery, telling yourself that Friedrich was still grieving. It was an easy answer to his behavior and treatment of you, and yet, you wondered how much longer you had to endure it. You wondered how much longer you would feel watched and shadowed in your own house.

At breakfast, you parted your lips for Friedrich as he gave you a few drops of the tonic, and he watched you eat, and you pretended not to notice. For some time that is. Finally, after a while, you placed your utensils down, and you lifted your gaze to meet his head on. Ever bold, he did not look away, those blue eyes momentarily making you lose your train of thought.

“Why do you stare at me so?”

You finally voiced your concerns with him, and you watched the mustache twitch from the movements of his mouth at your sudden and brazen question. Friedrich looked as if he had never anticipated you asking that of him, but eventually he straightened, pushing his shoulders back as he studied your face.

“I am afraid you will slip away.”

His answer made you blink, eyes widening slightly.

“I fear…” he cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. “...like my Anna, you will slip from my grasp.”

Your lips parted at the unexpected answer, and you were unsure of how to respond. Friedrich took a deep breath before digging into his own breakfast, those blue eyes finally refusing to meet yours.

“I will not allow you to become her…lost to me too.”

It was in that moment that you realized you completely misconstrued his words from the previous night, and you stared at the man before you who was so desperate and driven to uncomfortable lengths to ensure he did not bury another wife. Some part of you felt awful for feeling so put off by his uncanny behavior…but some other part of you recognized that your husband was slowly being pushed to madness.

If he were not so already.

“She vexes me so…”

Those were the words you overheard a week later, your house hosting a small handful of people that Friedrich knew. The wives took to you well despite your quiet disposition, and when they proposed an evening walk along the beach, you went in search of your husband to inform him. When you found him, he was in the company of three other men, the smell of tobacco reached you first and then his words followed.

You froze the moment you realized it was you he was referring to.

“She is so quiet and frail…like a mouse” there were a few chuckles. “...and I so desire to hear her squeak.”

You felt yourself take a step back.

“...but it is because she is so fragile that I cannot bring myself to touch her…” you heard Friedrich inhale. “I fear I would ravage her.”

How was it possible for his words to both terrify and entice you? It was a relief to know that your husband did not balk at the sight of you as you once thought, but you did not hold the same sentiment in confirming you were indeed being hunted in your own house. Friedrich had made no moves to warm you to him and progress this marriage in a way that a normal man would. After all these months, he was still little more than a stranger to you.

A stranger that was increasingly losing himself more and more at the thought of ever losing you.

“...but Friedrich we only just got here.”

You looked to him with a slight frown, the ocean breeze a soothing feeling against your skin. So turned around by his words from the other night, you had completely forgotten all about the beach, returning to the other wives in a bit of a daze, something they happily sat you down and fetched some water for.

With one look at you surrounded and feverish with some water in your hand, Friedrich had cleared the house out immediately, saddening you. You were at the beach, now to make up for it, but you were sure that you had only been here all of ten minutes.

“It is a bit airish out,” he said to you, keeping your hand in place on his arm. “I do not wish to see you fall ill again.”

You struggled to argue with him about your health, understanding both the sensitive nature of the topic and the determination in his eyes to see you back inside the house. Despite what you wanted, you allowed him to guide you away from the water and sand. His hand remained on yours the whole way, and the closer you got to your home, the more your unease grew.

“Perhaps we can try again if the weather is better tomorrow,” you proposed the moment you were inside the warm walls of the house.

Your husband did not answer right away as he removed his coat, and for a moment you feared he never would, but his eyes met yours as he turned to you. He was gentle and meticulous in unbuttoning your own coat, his chest so close to yours as he slowly peeled it off of you. The words that he did not know you heard were on your mind as he looked down his nose at you, and he only answered when your arms were finally free.

“We shall see.”

His tone and his words did not seem to be in agreement, and you were unsurprised when tomorrow came and went and you did not leave the walls of your home. You found enjoyment in your books instead, and like always, you eventually felt goosebumps crawl over your arms as you became the subject of his scrutiny yet again.

Only this time, you were surprised to hear him approach.

“Read to me,” he quietly asked—demanded—of you, and you felt his hand in your hair as he sat down on the couch behind you.

It was an unexpected request, and you were silent for a few moments more as he made himself comfortable behind you. His legs were on either side of you as you relaxed on the floor, the fabric of your dresses and undergarments cushioning your bottom. It took you some time to do as he asked, but once you did, you started to forget that he was even there.

Until his fingers started to move over your scalp and he drew himself closer, his knees in your line of vision now, and his gentle breathing started to accompany the sound of your own voice. You read to him for what felt like hours, both of you only pulled from the moment when the cook informed you that dinner would be ready soon.

Much of your time was spent reading to Friedrich these days, and you wondered if he thought it a sufficient enough distraction to ensure you hardly noticed he never let you out of the house anymore. Your requests to go to the beach grew less and less with every denial and every ‘maybe’ that would just turn into a denial. The day you asked to accompany one of the staff to the market, he visibly blanched, his head shaking as he snarked at you how completely out of the question that was.

You finally spoke up when the monthly visit from your parents did not come to pass.

“I did not think it wise for them to be here,” was his only defense, and you gaped at him.

“...and why not? Why am I the last to know this?”

His hand wrapped around your arm as he pulled you away from the curious eyes and ears of the kitchen staff, guiding you through the house with that long stride of his that almost made it hard to keep up. When he noticed, he slowed down, eventually halting his movements just outside of his study, and when you hesitantly reached for your arm, Friedrich loosened his hold.

You watched him use his free hand to gently brush his fingers over the appendage, looking down at it with a frown before meeting your gaze with a more even stare. 

“...because they are always trotting off to God knows where around God knows who, and I will not allow them to bring even so much as a shallow cough into this household.”

You blinked at your husband, understanding dawning on you, and you struggled with a response. You realized now that appeasing his paranoia—not fighting it and letting him have his way—was doing more harm than good. Friedrich was so good at hiding his emotions from you—even the ones you wanted to know about—but in the dimly lit hallway, you could see it clear as day in his eyes.

He was consumed with the fear that you would wind up just like Anna and his children.

Taking a deep breath, you hesitantly reached for his hand, removing it from your arm. You did not break your gaze, wanting him to listen to you loud and clear, and you swallowed down the unease that filled you as you stood under his unwavering gaze.

“Friedrich…” you whispered to him, so unused to the feel of his name on your tongue. “That is no way for me to live a life.”

He pushed his shoulders back at that, and you knew that he was going to argue with you, so you continued.

“You have gotten me a tonic from the doctor…I am the healthiest I have ever been…and I would very much like to see my mother and father.”

His mustache twitched as the corner of his mouth curved upwards at your attempt to put your foot down. The both of you stood there for a lengthy amount of time, just staring at one another, and for the briefest of moments, you thought that Friedrich would see reason. Your hand was still on his, and your husband maneuvered them so that your hand was now in his, and when he stopped closer, you knew then that you were not getting your way.

“Perhaps some other time.”

You knew what that meant as you watched him walk away, and dread began to fill you as the reality of your predicament was truly setting in. Your eyes roamed along the walls, no longer feeling haunted by Anna, but her husband instead. He was haunting you, and she was haunting him, and in his desperation to keep you from suffering the same fate as his previous wife, Friedrich seemed content to keep you behind a gilded cage, a manicured box.

Like a porcelain doll.

Your days were consumed with only him and the house—reading to him, tending to the flowers, picking out patterns for some new drapes or a new rug to be made. It was enough to ignore the obvious for a while, enough to keep your mind off of the prolonged absence of your parents and the unmet desires to see the water and the way Friedrich stared at you like he expected you to crumble at the drop of a hat.

He was driving you nearly mad as he, and perhaps that was why you did it.

The caretaker was new and had not yet learned that Friedrich Harding preferred to keep his new wife locked up like some sickly child. Why would she? You were sure that you would be back home before he returned, but when you entered your home—the sun still at its peak outside—you did not miss the way some of the servants avoided your gaze. Only one approached you, quietly taking your coat as her gaze found the floor.

“Mr. Harding is waiting for you both…”

Your heart sank at her words, and you looked to the caretaker, knowing that you just cost her employment. That had never been your intention, and you walked ahead of her, prepared to plead her case to your husband, but he let her go on the spot before you could get a word in. Everything you said went ignored, every plea and every excuse, and it was only when the staff made themselves conveniently scarce did your proper and mighty well-to-do husband finally…

Break.

“Do you wish to ruin me? Is that it?”

His voice bounced off of the walls, and your lips parted as he stared you down. His eyes were alight with every emotion known to man, and his shoulders heaved with every breath he took. You only just started to shake your head when he spoke again.

“For surely it will be the end of me if I have to say goodbye to another wife,” he angrily whispered, and you took a step back. “I do not ask much of you.”

“I know-.”

“I have not forced you to my bed, I have not demanded any sons or daughters,” he let out a tearful chuckle. “I do not even demand you greet your husband with a kiss when he returns home.”

All of this was true, and yet…

“All I ask is that you remain here.”

He said it so casually, as if he were not asking the world of you to remain prettily seated in a cage. You had never known how to gently broach this subject, understanding the sensitive nature of it, but as you stared into the face of your husband—driven mad with trauma and paranoia—you accepted that there would be no gentle way to do it.

“I am not Anna,” you breathed.

The man before you froze in place as you said her name, and you swallowed. 

“I am in good health now,” you licked your lips. “You saw to that…”

You slowly reached for him, and you did not miss the sharp look in his gaze as he followed the movement with his eyes.

“I am not going anywhere, and I implore you to have faith…”

Your words trailed off as the sound of his bitter chuckle reached your ears. Friedrich moved closer to you with no intention of stopping it seemed, and your back hit the wall. 

“Faith,” the dark-haired man sneered. “Why would I trust faith to keep you with me when that very same faith failed me before?”

You had no answer for him.

His fingers touched your face, and you looked between his eyes. His chest heaved, and his heavy breathing was the loudest sound in the room. His fingers trailed down the expanse of your neck before his hand moved to rest on the back of it, moving closer.

“You are so frail,” he murmured. “I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you.”

He forced your face closer, and you pressed your hands to his chest. The conflict was evident on his features, a furrow between his brows as he drank you in with those sad blue eyes of his.

“I fear that a change in the wind would rip you from my very arms.”

“Friedrich…” he gave no indication that he was listening to you. “I have not seen my mother and father in months. I know they must worry and… All I ever see are these walls and the staff and my books and you. Do you wish for me to be unhappy?”

He tilted his head.

“Do you wish for me to be alone again?”

“Friedrich, please,” you begged, and he was shaking his head as soon as you said his name.

“I cannot do what you ask of me,” he forced out, eyes becoming glassy.

You pulled at his arm and pushed at his chest, but your husband was a mountain of a man, and it did you no good. The room was filled with both of your voices at once, both of you pleading with the other—you for freedom and he for understanding.

“You do not understand the lengths I go to…”

“I will be driven to madness!”

“...the nights I refuse my own desires,” he tearfully spat.

“So you would have me be your doll then? Placed on a shelf where only you and the staff can see me? To only be looked at like a trinket until the end of my days?”

Your poor choice of words had him freezing, his voice dying in the air as he gazed at you with a stricken look in his eyes. He did not move for a concerning amount of time, and as he stared into your eyes, tears kissing his own, you wondered who he saw, right now.

You or Anna?

The wife he had lost or the one he was scared of losing?

“I cannot bear it,” he choked out, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. “It is an impossible thing to ask of me.”

You said his name, but he felt lost to you, mumbling to himself and kneading at you through the fabric of your dress. When his soft lips pressed against the skin just above your bosom, you tensed. You could feel the wetness from his tears on your flesh, and you said his name again.

In this moment, you were wholly aware of your disadvantage.

“All I do is try to protect you, and all I ask is that you help me…”

“Friedrich.”

He was on his knees, now, burly arms circled around your waist, and blue eyes wide and bright and tearful as he looked up at you.

“Yet you fight me every step of the way.”

“I am not Anna,” you said to him, trying to get him to see reason.

…but he knew exactly who he was talking to.

“...and you will never become her if I can help it.”

You felt his hand slide to your backside, pulling you closer as he buried his face into the fabric of your skirts.

“Night after night…day after day…I fight with myself for fear of hurting you, of doing irreparable damage.”

His arm tightened painfully around you, and you gasped, reaching down to pull at his sleeve.

“...and for what? For a wife who still leaves these walls and puts herself in harm’s way even after her husband begs her not to.”

“I cannot…”

You struggled to breathe, and you no longer just wanted him to let you go…you wished to get away. You both heard and felt him press a lingering kiss to your stomach, his tears wetting the fabric of your dress.

“If I am to risk you in any capacity…then surely it should be for the betterment of us both.”

So focused on trying to take in air, you did not fully register his words and the implication behind them. Your chest was tightening and your stomach was hurting, and your husband was losing his mind, and you did not know how to convince him that he would not lose you too. You pushed further back against the wall in an effort to relieve some of the painful pressure when you could suddenly breathe again.

You sharply inhaled…and the sound of tearing fabric reached your ears.

The pressure around your abdomen was loosening in more ways than one, and when you looked down, Friedrich had his hands quite literally inside of your dress. It was one that your mother had commissioned for you, but you could not find it in yourself to mourn the loss of the beautiful gown. You were more focused on your husband’s sudden animalistic nature.

You said his name, pushing at his hands, but you were no match for his strength.

“I cannot stop,” you heard him murmur, making your blood run cold. “Do not dare ask me to stop.”

With his hand at your back under the fabric, it was not long before you quite literally felt the fabric and strings of your corset being pulled taut against your flesh before ripping and popping completely. A panic seized you as you fought to get away from Friedrich, and he fought to rid you of the mountain of layers that covered you.

“Friedrich,” you gasped, pushing at his face and head, but with his arms around you in a vice-like grip, you had nowhere to go.

You pushed one foot forward, a difficult feat with a grown man attached to you, and your husband did not like that. He pulled at your dress some more—pulling down—and the action had you careening forward as you attempted to get away from him at the same time. With the floor fast approaching, you were prepared to crawl away from him, but Friedrich was much quicker on his feet than you.

Arms that were now increasingly familiar to you wrapped around your waist, catching you midfall, and Friedrich’s chest was to your back as he stood and brought you with him. You could feel his facial hair tickling your skin as he leaned in, deeply inhaling and kneading his fingers just under your chest.

“I cannot…”

His words trailed off as he forced you to face him, pink lips parted and blue eyes glazed over. Every step back from him was followed, and his nose touched yours while one hand found a home on your cheek. His lips touched yours for half a second before you pulled away, and he let you, frowning at you as if you confounded him.

She vexes me so.

You recalled those words that were not meant for your ears.

“I cannot…” his frown deepened. “I cannot resist you any longer.”

He finally stole a kiss from you, his lips covering yours in a way that no one ever had before. The kiss at your wedding was sweet—chaste even—but this was nothing of the sort. Friedrich deeply inhaled your every breath and pawed at you and pulled you closer if at all possible. The kiss made your head spin, and every time you attempted to move your head back, he followed. It was hard to breathe with his lips on yours.

You realized that what you felt against the back of your thighs was the bed, but only too late and when Friedrich’s hands tightened on the neckline of your dress. His lips sought out the flesh of your throat as he pulled and ripped it open completely. His blunt nails softly dragged against your skin as he yanked it down, moving closer, and with nowhere else to go, you felt yourself backed into a corner.

Your resistance was clear, and your husband wrapped an arm around your waist, briefly lifting you before dropping you on the soft surface. His large frame found solace between your legs, and you felt irreversibly trapped. He towered over you and his mouth held yours captive and his arms did not allow you anywhere to go.

You gasped his name into his mouth, a protest in your tone.

“I no longer have the strength to keep myself from you,” he murmured into the kiss. “Do not ask me to for I cannot do it.”

His hand slithered between your legs like a serpent, and you squirmed in a way you never had before. You had never even touched yourself there on lonely nights, recalling how unclean and unchaste it was said to be, but Friedrich was your husband. Surely that made it okay…but then why did it not feel okay in your chest? Perhaps it was because he scared you and isolated you and kept you locked away like some prized possession.

You felt yourself growing wet beneath his touch, and a low hum climbed from his throat as you laid your hand on his arm. When a finger slid into you, you dug your nails into his arm. The feel had you blinking, and when he added another, your eyes widened. A third had you gasping and him cursing—something you rarely heard. You felt stretched, and when he moved closer, forcing your legs to part more to accommodate him, you hissed.

“Lie back, my love,” he murmured to you. “It will feel much better.”

You refused to, one hand on the bed behind you in some weak hope that you could stop this before it went any further. You simply wanted freedom, and pleading with Friedrich for something so simple had ended in him seeking out his own pleasures instead. You could feel yourself dripping around his hand with every thrust of his fingers, and shame filled you.

When you were unable to swallow down a moan, you hid your face.

“There she is,” he slowly whispered, and when his thumb brushed over you in a way that had your arm weakening, he took advantage.

In one fell swoop, you found yourself on your back, your husband on top of you and his fingers still pushing into you. Your ruined dress hung off of you in tatters, and Friedrich tasted whatever visible skin there was. His large frame kept you pinned to the bed, and your eyes rolled and lashes fluttered from the way he moved his fingers and his hand between your thighs. You weakly murmured his name, and beyond that, in the quiet room, you could hear his movements. You could hear the wet sound of it, and more shame filled you, but you were not given time to linger on it.

He sat up on his knees, reaching down with his other hand so that he played you with both. You felt your back arching, and your breathing grew more shallow, and one hand gently massaged your mound while the other continued to push his fingers into your slick walls. He curled them into you over and over, massaging your insides and pressing the pads of his fingers against you.

It was unlike anything you ever felt, and when your stomach tightened—a rope or a coil or something deep within your gut—you let it until it could not any further, and you were suddenly gasping and whimpering in a way that made you sound possessed. You could feel Friedrich’s gaze on you, and when you managed to focus your own on him despite the difficulty, he wore an expression that you were sure you had never seen before.

It made you want to cover yourself and shy away, and when he pulled his fingers out of you—a tinge of red on them—that was exactly what you set out to do. 

Feeling hot and confused and unsettled by the man before you, you reached for the covers in an attempt to hide your nakedness, but your husband would not have it. He climbed over you, keeping you pinned between his thighs as he peeled off his light jacket, his tie and shirt and undershirt quick to follow.

You imagined that your wedding night would have been something akin to this, but only without this level of unease and fear and confusion. As it were, your wedding night was nothing like this. You had been alone, convinced of your husband’s lack of care for you, and now almost a year later, you were squirming beneath him and wanting to be as far away as possible from the man who metaphorically locked you in the tower and tossed the key.

“Friedrich,” you choked out, pushing at his chest. 

He leaned in and kissed you again, and you felt every bit of him as he forced you out of your garments completely.

The tip of him brushed against your sensitive flesh, and you shuddered beneath him. He would not stop kissing you, tasting the inside of your mouth and inhaling every gasp that escaped. His normally perfect hair was in disarray, and when he reached down between you, his other arm was proactive in holding you tight and in place for him.

The feel of his cock pushing into you almost made you wish for his fingers instead. You thought that you felt stretched before, but it was nothing in comparison to the slow way in which he sheathed himself inside of you. You felt unnaturally full, and it took your breath away. Friedrich groaned from above you, and you felt a shudder crawl up his back as he rested inside of you.

“I tried,” you heard him whisper. “I tried so very hard…but I cannot go another day without having you.”

He slowly pulled his hips back until only the tip of him remained before sinking into you completely. You could not stop the movements of your body, your hips lifting with his as if being carried by a wave, a breathless sigh escaping with every thrust. His bare chest was pressed to yours, and his burly arms kept you right where he wanted you, and you felt yourself slowly forgetting why you had ever resisted him.

“Endless nights of lying awake and knowing you were a mere room away,” Friedrich breathed against your skin. “So close…and so forbidden to me.”

The speed of his hips grew, and your nails dug into his skin, dragging over it as he plunged his cock into you with a vigor you did not know he had. He was always so cold with you, keeping you at arm’s length even when he was touching you. You recalled the feel of his hand on your hair and his fingers on your mouth and a brush against your waist. Always giving in just a little bit more until he no longer had the desire to hold himself back. Always staring and watching and craving.

It was so clear to you, now, and all you could think was that your mother was right…

…and you were a fool.

“I feared I would break you,” he panted, thrusting into you so strongly that the bed beneath you shook. “I still fear that I just might.”

He pushed himself up onto his hands so that he could look down at you, and the dull tender ache had started to subside, replaced by something that far exceeded the pleasure his fingers had given you. Your back arched, and Friedrich wasted no time in dipping his head to wrap his lips around a heaving breast. His tongue swirling around a hardened bud had you reaching up to thread your fingers through his dark locks.

He groaned at the action, and when he lifted his head again, his intense blue gaze sought out yours. You softly moaned every time his hips curved into yours, his cock smoothly sliding between your folds, now and stroking you in a way that momentarily convinced you your freedom was not all that desirable. Your husband did not look away from your eyes again, and it felt overwhelming to be beneath him and staring into his eyes and feel him within you.

One of his hands reached up to touch your cheek, and a frown formed between his brows.

“So fragile… It would take nothing for me to break you, to snuff you right out,” his words made your heart skip a beat. “You test my self control in ways that terrify me.”

His hand traveled to your neck.

“I was right to fear the monster that I would unleash if I ever got my hands on you…”

His fingers danced to the back of your neck, and he gripped the hair at the nape there, slowly and gently forcing your head back. His hips did not relent once, meeting yours again and again, the sound of skin meeting skin reaching your ears among other things that filled you with shame. So much shame.

“For I will never be able to resist you again.”

He leaned in and pressed gentle kisses along the expanse of your throat, his tongue darting out to taste the damp skin, humming at the salty nature the thin sheen of sweat gave it. You whimpered when he reached down with his free hand, fingers brushing against you and circling you as you greedily clenched around his cock. 

“If anything happened to you,” he whispered into your neck. “It would be my undoing.”

[quarterlifekitty]

cw: death, murder, severe grief induced depression, alcoholism

Undead!Husband!Ghost who stalks his way home just as soon as he claws his way from the damp, heavy soil on top of his coffin.

Pain in the ass. Doesn’t have his damned phone and he has no idea where this cemetery is.

Doesn’t have his keys, either, and it’s the middle of the fucking night. Finds a window open just a crack— his absence in your life shows. He would’ve never left you vulnerable like this. Kitchen is a mess of takeout containers. You haven’t been taking things well. Answering machine flashes a bright red number— 38.

He takes off his shoes and his jacket— like he’d only stepped out for the day, rather than having been dead and buried for months. Hates the fucking formalwear they buried him in. Ambles his way upstairs.

Sees some fucking stranger in his house. Sleeping in his bed. Right next to his wife. Bruises on your neck.

It was yet another self-destructive attempt at distracting yourself from what happened. The shitheel you picked up at the bar doesn’t even fully wake up before his skull is cracked against the hardwood of the headboard. You barely stir. Simon leans close and smells the liquor on your breath. He tilts your head gently so your cheek is to the pillow.

He digs through the dresser drawers for nearly half an hour before he finds the obscure little corner where you’ve hidden your wedding ring. You tell yourself it’s to make yourself seem available, but really you just couldn’t stand the sight of it. Whose gaze reflected back from the polished gemstone.

It’s slipped delicately back onto your finger. It’s looser than it used to be.

The body is dragged from the bed and deposited on the floor, blood already soaked down past the sheets and into the mattress. He doesn’t care. He’s still covered in dirt and rot and he doesn’t care about that either. He’s so fucking tired.

Crawls in the bed next to you, an arm loosely thrown over your waist.

When you wake up, he’ll cook you some real food.

[vapekingg]

You and Eddie have this running joke.

Or at least it started as a joke.

Once Corroded Coffin started to take off, it was hard to not get jealous. All those pretty girls throwing themselves at him at every show. They'd wait at the merch table or near the back door where the band smokes their cigarettes. Even with you hanging off of his arm, they were relentless.

So Eddie started finding you before they could find him.

You liked being in the crowd during their sets. Some of the guys' girlfriends would sit sidestage, some of them would stay in the green room, but you preferred the energy of the show. Eddie always made sure you were front row, center stage. That way he could always find you.

He made a big deal out of it, too. Pointing you out every night during their last song and handing you a VIP laminate that would get you backstage. To all of these new faces, you were just another face in the crowd. It became a thing amongst their fans. Who would be the lucky girl tonight?

But it was always you.

Because you're his favorite groupie, aren't you?

That's what Corroded Coffin's security team started calling you. Jokingly, of course. But it's carried over.

"You know why you're my favorite fucking groupie?" Eddie hisses close to your face.

You can't respond. He knows you can't respond. If it weren't for both of his hands wrapped around your throat, then because he's got your legs folded up against your chest with your ankles next to his ears. Eddie's thrusts are relentless, his cock punching into your guts with brutality, and you can't make a fucking sound.

"Because you can fucking take it," he continues, punctuating the last two words with particularly rough assaults.

Your face is getting warm from the blood pooling in your head. Your brain is pounding in your temples with each stroke of his thick cock against your slick inner walls. You need to scream, but the wail trapped in your lungs sits right below Eddie's fists at the base of your throat.

"Oh, you have something to say? Didn't lose your voice screaming my name all night?" His voice is beginning to sound far off beneath the sound of your own heart thumping in your ears. "Fuck, you feel good. Squeezing my cock, baby. Don't worry, I'm gonna let you sing."

Your throat is released and Eddie's fingers slide beneath your head, weaving into your hair. A rush of air enters your lungs, and then you hear your own foul sounds.

The sound of begging, of pleading, of crying for him to never stop, to give you more.

"Please, Eddie. Please, harder, harder, harder!" Are the only words you can remember.

And you expect Eddie to mock you. He usually does, and it's usually the final nail in your coffin. What you don't expect is the tightening of his ringed fingers against your roots. He holds your head in place and spits on your face, silencing you for only a moment.

"You know this is when you're the prettiest?" Eddie says between gritted teeth.

With the blood flowing back to your brain, you begin to hear everything again. His little grunts and moans hidden by heavy breathing, the slapping of his sweat slick skin against yours, the creaking of his tour bus bunk bed. It all comes together like some sort of symphony of filth.

"When you're all fucked out. Makeup fucked, sweaty, my spit dripping down your face. You'll be even prettier with my cum leaking out of this pussy."

Your back arches into him at the mention of Eddie filling you up. He doesn't do it often. You're careful most of the time. But on special occasions... the risk is worth it.

Eddie laughs at your response, his cock pumping into your cunt faster.

"That what you want? Me to fill you up?" He asks mockingly.

That knot in your abdomen begins to tighten. Eddie's hips rut against your sensitive clit, stroking it in time with each thrust.

"Then everyone will know you're my favorite groupie, huh?"

Eddie's hips hit your core, his cock buried to the hilt, and he grinds his waist against your clit. Stars dot your vision. Every atom in your body shivers on the edge of oblivion.

"Won't they?"

[yeostinys]

Cry For Me

Pairing: DomCEO!Hongjoong x SubSecretary!Reader

Genre: Smut 18+, slight angst, PWP, Office!AU

Notes: Cheating (don’t do it yall. this is just fiction), Unprotected sex (wrap it up!!! do not try this irl, it is pure fantasy!), explicit language, dacryphilia kink, humiliation, degrading, power fixation, Hongjoong lowkey manipulates (but for the better ig lol)

Word Count: 13k (condensed some ideas to bring down the word count LOL)

Authors note: This is pure horny imagination and in NO WAY, reflects on the characters in real life! If you do not like this type of content pls ignore or block me.

Pt. 2 | Pt. 3

———————————————————————

As you stepped into your apartment, the night sky cast a deep blue glow through the windows, shimmering like a vast ocean. The warm glow of the sensor lights flickered on, illuminating the entryway and casting soft shadows on the walls. You paused for a moment, a frustrated sigh escaping your lips, echoing in the stillness of the room.

It was the fifth time this month that your boyfriend had canceled on you, and each time felt like another nail in the coffin of what once seemed like a blossoming romance. The disappointment settled heavily in your chest, making each step toward the kitchen feel more burdensome than the last.

With a determined resolve, you made your way to the fridge, the familiar chill greeting you as you opened the door. Your fingers closed around a half-filled bottle of wine, the label slightly crumpled from the many times it had been hastily put back. You pulled it out, and reached for a glass. You stare blankly as you poured the wine, watching as the dark liquid rose to the rim, glistening in the soft light. Without hesitation, you brought it to your lips, taking a few deep gulps, each swallow both comforting and numbing. As the warmth spread through you, tears began to prick at the corners of your eyes, a familiar sensation that you had tried so hard to push away.

The memories of the past 2 years flooded back—Siwoo’s laughter, the shared moments that now felt like distant echoes. But lately, he had become a stranger, his warmth replaced by an impenetrable distance. You had tried to reach out, to bridge the growing gap, but each time ended in disappointment. Now, standing in your quiet apartment, you felt a profound sense of loss that had settled deep within you, leaving you feeling numb, as if you were merely going through the motions of life without truly living it.

You quickly wiped your tears away, the salty tracks on your cheeks feeling foreign yet familiar. With each brush of your fingers, the sadness that had threatened to overwhelm you twisted into something sharper—anger.

*Ding.*

The sudden sound pulled your attention away from your thoughts. You turned your head toward your phone, its screen lighting up with a notification. The sight of Siwoo's name, accompanied by a little heart, made your heart sink further.

Siwoo <3: I’m sorry I cancelled again. Please don’t hate me. I’ll see you on your lunch tomorrow.

You stared at the message, the words blurring momentarily as your vision wavered. Another empty promise. With a shaky hand, you raised your glass to your lips, the bitter taste of the wine filling your mouth as you took another long gulp. It was a poor substitute for the warmth you once felt from Siwoo's presence.

You couldn't bring yourself to respond—not now. You needed a few moments to gather your swirling emotions, to avoid lashing out with the hurt and anger that simmered just beneath the surface. The silence of the apartment enveloped you, amplifying your racing thoughts and making the weight of his message all the more suffocating.

Once you finished the rest of the wine bottle, you felt the tension in your shoulders ease just a fraction. You turned away from your phone, not wanting to see another message or another reminder of the chasm that seemed to grow between you. With heavy steps, you made your way to the bedroom.

You plopped down onto the bed, the soft sheets cradling you in their embrace. As your body sank into the mattress, fatigue overtook you, pulling you into a deep slumber. In the quiet darkness, you hoped for dreams that could somehow soothe the ache in your heart, if only for a little while.

———

The next day dawned with a muted light filtering through the curtains, the world outside still waking up. You rolled over, disoriented for a moment, before the reality of the day ahead crashed over you. With a groan, you pushed yourself up, the remnants of last night’s indulgence weighing heavily in your mind.

As you shuffled to the bathroom, the headache from downing that last glass of wine throbbed at your temples, a persistent reminder of your restless night. You cursed under your breath, regretting the decision to finish the bottle in a moment of vulnerability.

You quickly went through the motions of your morning routine. Your job as the secretary for one of the most well-known CEOs in the Creative Arts Institution required precision and poise, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil that had kept you up late. You dressed in a tailored blouse and a pencil skirt, the fabric smoothing against your skin as you adjusted the collar. The mirror reflected a professional exterior, yet you felt anything but composed inside.

After applying a touch of makeup to mask the fatigue in your eyes, you gathered your things—laptop, planner, and the ever-essential cup of coffee that awaited you in the kitchen.

———

As you step into the tall building, the morning sun filters through the glass façade, casting geometric shadows across the polished marble lobby. The familiar bustle of your colleagues greets you, their voices merging with the gentle hum of fluorescent lights. You nod and smile as you greet in response. You make your way to the elevator, its silver doors glinting in the light. Pressing the button for the top floor, you mentally prepare for the day ahead, trying not to show your exhausted emotions, mentally and physically. When the doors slide open, you step into the expansive hallway lined with art. At the end of the corridor, you enter the grand office door. You walk to the enormous desk adorned with a gold plaque that reads “CEO Kim Hongjoong” and set down the iced Americano you picked up on your way in. You reach into your tote bag and retrieve a neatly organized file folder. Flipping it open, you scan through today’s itinerary, noting the key meetings and tasks that lie ahead. Once satisfied with your briefing, you close the folder and return it to your bag. You head to the front desk positioned just outside the CEO's office, and begin your morning tasks. Every day in the office has settled into a rhythm, a familiar routine that feels almost automatic.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim!” “Hello, Mr. Kim!” The greetings echo as your colleagues bow slightly, their respect palpable.

You rise from your chair, straightening your blouse, and offer a nonchalant nod, masking the exhaustion lingering just beneath the surface.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you say as you bow, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Hongjoong approaches, his expression warm yet focused.

“Hello, Y/N. Have you prepared everything for today’s schedule?” he asks, moving past you toward his office.

“Yes, you have a meeting in an hour with a client…” you begin to relay the itinerary, following him inside. He settles into his chair, taking a sip of the Americano and nods in response.

“Also, I dealt with the complaints from the last exhibition. Everything’s been taken care of, just like you wanted,” you add, your tone casual, though the weight of your own issues tugs at your thoughts. Hongjoong looks up, a smile breaking across his face.

“That’s why I have you as my secretary, Miss Y/N. Thank you so much.”

You nod, the compliment momentarily brightening your mood, but it’s fleeting. You bow again before slipping out of the office. As the door closes behind you, you take a deep breath, pushing the worries from your relationship to the back of your mind, ready to tackle the day ahead with practiced indifference.

Throughout the morning, you flit in and out of meetings, accompanying Hongjoong as he navigates a flurry of tasks. The office is a hive of activity, and you move seamlessly between conversations, taking notes and organizing files, but the weight of your personal life hangs heavy in the back of your mind.

You glance at the clock on your desk: just thirty minutes until your hour break. A sigh escapes your lips, and you reach for your phone, hesitating. Siwoo’s message sits unread, a lingering question mark in your thoughts. You know you should respond, but the uncertainty of his invitation makes you hesitate. Is it pettiness that keeps you from reaching out, or a defense mechanism to shield your heart from further pain? You shake off the intrusive thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand.

*Ding.* Your phone buzzes, drawing your attention. It’s another message from Siwoo.

Siwoo <3: I won’t be able to make it today. Something came up at work. Sorry.

You scoff under your breath, a bitter taste filling your mouth. His absence stings, but you’ve braced yourself for this—after all, it’s become a pattern.

Just then, Hongjoong’s voice crackles through the telephone intercom on your desk, interrupting your spiraling thoughts. “Miss Y/N, please come to my office.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, rising from your seat with a practiced smile as you make your way into his office.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Kim?” you ask, your tone polite, carefully masking the frustration beneath the surface from Siwoo’s message.

Hongjoong leans back in his chair, his expression serious.

“I know you have your hour break in twenty minutes, but I just got off the phone with a potential client. They want to meet over lunch in a few minutes, and I need you to tag along to take notes. If you can wait on your break for another hour, I’ll cover your meal if you accompany me now.”

His words feel more like an instruction than a request, and you nod in response, pushing your personal frustrations aside.

“Of course, sir. Shall I call the chauffeur now?”

“No need,” he replies, grabbing his briefcase. “We’ll take my vehicle. I’ll drive.”

You nod and follow Hongjoong out of the building.

You settled into the passenger seat next to Hongjoong, the sleek interior of the car enveloping you. The rhythmic clicking of the turn signal punctuated the silence, while the soft murmur of the news on the radio served as a gentle backdrop.

“Miss Y/N, is everything alright?” Hongjoong's voice cut through the quiet, steady and attentive. You turned to him, slightly taken aback by his directness.

“Y-Yes, sir. What makes you concerned?” you replied, a hint of surprise coloring your voice. His eyes remained fixed on the road, focused yet perceptive.

“My top employee—my secretary—has been unusually quiet lately. You seem a bit off,” he remarked, expertly navigating the car into a parking lot. His concern was genuine, and you felt a flutter of warmth at his attention.

“I apologize if I gave that impression today, sir. I assure you, I’m alright,” you replied, straightening in your seat, trying to project confidence. Hongjoong parked the car and turned to face you, his expression serious.

“Y/N, I’m not just talking about today. You’ve been like this for a few days now. I don’t want to pry, but if something is bothering you, please let me know. You never slack off—well, not that I’ve noticed—but you’re a vital part of our team. If you’re not at your best, it affects us all, especially me. Let’s tackle any issues together, professionally.” His words carried a weight of understanding that took you by surprise.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal.

“I… I apologize, sir. It’s just some personal issues in my relationship. I promise I won’t let it interfere with my work,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to your hands in your lap. You feared that honesty might blur the lines of your professional relationship.

Hongjoong regarded you with a thoughtful expression, his brow slightly furrowing. “Problems in your relationship?” he asked gently. You nodded, keeping your head bowed.

“Yes. I appreciate you asking,” you replied, feeling a rush of gratitude mixed with apprehension.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” he said, his tone shifting back to his usual professional demeanor. “Let’s get to work.”

The next hour unfolded at a high-end restaurant, its luxurious ambiance creating the perfect setting for a business meeting. You sat next to Hongjoong, across from two potential clients, the atmosphere charged with opportunity. As they discussed plans for an upcoming exhibition, you diligently took notes, your mind sharpening as you transitioned into your role.

Hongjoong exuded charisma, ordering champagne and an array of exquisite appetizers while skillfully guiding the conversation. You admired the way he balanced authority with approachability, creating an atmosphere of collaboration.

———

As promised, Hongjoong granted you your hour break once you both returned to the office. The day had been packed with meetings and conversations, but you had already eaten at the restaurant, so instead of lingering in the bustling atmosphere of the office, you decided to find solace on the rooftop.

Ascending to the rooftop, you pushed open the heavy door, the cool air hitting your face like a refreshing wave. You walked over to one of the bistro tables, the metal surface gleaming under the midday sun. You sank into one of the chairs, letting out a deep sigh that released the pent-up stress from the morning. In your left hand, you cradled an iced Americano to keep you alert. In your right, you held your phone, its screen illuminating your face as you contemplated the text messages from Siwoo.

He should be off work by now, you thought, scrolling through the thread of messages. You hesitated, biting your lip, unsure of how to approach him. The uncertainty had lingered in your mind for days, and it felt like a weight on your chest. After a moment’s deliberation, you resolved to take initiative and give him a call.

You tapped his name, and set the phone on speaker. As the phone rang, the sound echoed in the serene space around you. It rang for what felt like an eternity until finally, you heard his voice on the other end, slightly breathless.

“H-hello? Y/N?” Siwoo stuttered, his tone hesitant.

“Siwoo, what are you doing?” you asked, trying to sound calm, though your heart raced with anticipation.

“Mmm, n-nothing much, just working out. I-I went to the gym after work,” he replied, punctuating his words with a grunt that surprised you. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Since when did he ever work out?

You decided to push forward, hoping to reconnect. “Do you want to come over tonight? I’ll make dinner,” you offered, softening your voice as if trying to coax him back into your world.

“A-ahh, probably not tonight. I have to finish some work at h-home,” he stuttered again, his voice strained, as though he were struggling for breath.

Disappointment settled in your stomach, but you pressed on. “I can come over then, yeah? I’ll make you your favorite dish?” You mentally kicked yourself for even suggesting it, a flicker of doubt reminding you of all the times he had flaked out before.

“N-no, Y/N. I-It’s okay. A-ahh!” Siwoo grunted loudly, and a chill ran through you at the sound.

“Siwoo, what’s going on?!” You raised your voice slightly, urgency creeping in.

“I told you, Y/N. I’m working out. We can’t see each other tonight; I’m busy. I have to go,” he snapped, the finality in his tone cutting through the air like a knife. The line went dead, leaving you with only the echo of his voice. Your heart sank, a familiar ache running within you.

You stared at the phone in disbelief, the cool metal suddenly feeling heavy in your hand. How could he do this again? A mix of frustration and sadness swirled in your chest, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it did little to quell the rising tide of emotions.

——

You glance at the small digits on your screen, the glowing numbers reading 8:00 PM. Your shift officially ended thirty minutes ago, but here you sat, a blend of dedication and denial keeping you tethered to your desk. Guilt washed over you, a stark reminder of Hongjoong’s earlier words. There was no point in heading home, not when the weight of unfinished tasks bore down on you. The quiet of your apartment would only invite sorrow, while the office, though nearly deserted, offered a comforting distraction.

The atmosphere had shifted; the energy of the day had given way to silence as colleagues trickled out, exchanging soft goodbyes. Each farewell came with a gentle reminder not to work too hard, and you managed a smile, masking the turmoil brewing inside you. Once they departed, you returned your focus to the glowing screen, rifling through files and diligently noting necessary information, your fingers a blur over the keyboard.

A flicker of light caught your eye—a warm streaming light from Hongjoong’s office. You raised an eyebrow in curiosity; you’d assumed he had left an hour ago. Shaking off the thoughts that threatened to wander, you turned back to your work.

“Y/N?” Hongjoong’s voice broke through your concentration. You looked up at him through your rectangular glasses that rested on your face. He cut an impressive figure, dressed in a fitted black dress shirt and a black vest that accentuated his shoulders.(What the fuck Y/N; he’s your boss.) You mentally scolded yourself, attempting to dismiss any inappropriate thoughts.

“O-Oh, yes sir?” you replied, setting your pen down on the desk.

“Your shift ended an hour ago. Why are you still here?” His brow arched in genuine curiosity, his tone both commanding and concerned.

“I’m just catching up on some work, sir. I apologize. I’ll be heading home soon,” you replied, striving for composure even as nerves danced in your stomach.

“Y/N, come to my office,” he said, his calm demeanor masking the authority in his request. You hesitated, uncertainty creeping in. Why did he want to speak in private, especially when the office was nearly empty?

Despite your reservations, you take off your glasses frames, place them on your desk and follow him into his office. The door clicking shut behind you, a sound that felt like a declaration. The dim light cast long shadows, enveloping the room. He sits at the edge of his desk with his arms crossed.

“What’s going on in your relationship?” Hongjoong asked, his tone direct yet oddly informal. The question hung in the air, leaving you momentarily stunned. Your eyes widened, and you felt a flush creeping up your neck.

“Sir, I don’t think it’s appropriate to talk about personal matters at work…” you managed to reply, your fingers fidgeting nervously as you avoided his gaze.

“It’s after work hours, Y/N. You can speak comfortably,” he said, his voice calm and soothing, yet imbued with a sharpness that conveyed he was not one to be easily dismissed. “I can tell something is wrong.”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it difficult to formulate a response. A swirl of emotions crashed over you—fear of crossing professional boundaries mixed with the realization that perhaps he genuinely wanted to connect with you on a deeper level. Colleagues had often joked about how you and Hongjoong were like a married couple at work, a notion you had always brushed aside. The title felt cliché, almost childish, and you had preferred to maintain a strictly professional atmosphere.

But as you looked at him, a flicker of understanding passed between you. Maybe he wasn’t just playing the role of the CEO tonight. Perhaps he truly wanted to understand what you were going through. You took a deep breath, your heart racing as you considered opening up.

“We have… just been distant lately,” you say hesitantly, the words slipping out with reluctance. “Our schedules don’t seem to be aligning, and our communication is off. That is all, sir.” You glance at him, searching for a response.

He hums thoughtfully, nodding in acknowledgment. “Shall I… cut your hours? Maybe find a second secretary to fill in while you get to spend more time with your significant other?” His voice carried a teasing lilt, yet there was an undercurrent of seriousness that sent a rush of heat to your cheeks.

“N-no, sir!” The words escaped your lips almost too hastily, an instinctive reaction that made you feel slightly embarrassed. Hongjoong chuckled, his head lowering momentarily before he lifted it again, locking eyes with you.

“So, is it his schedule that’s not cooperating with yours?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. You nodded in silence, the weight of your emotions pressing down as you considered the truth behind your answer.

“Mm… interesting.” Hongjoong tapped his chin thoughtfully, the wheels of his mind clearly turning. Curiosity prickled at you; what was going through his head? You couldn’t help but wonder about the direction this conversation was taking.

“Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking, what does your partner do for a living?” he asked, his tone calm and inviting.

“He’s a professor at the university located downtown,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper, as if sharing a secret.

“A professor?” Hongjoong mused, a hint of skepticism coloring his tone. “I doubt their schedules are that busy compared to yours—a full-time secretary for a well-known company.” He dropped his hands into his pockets, his gaze intent and probing.

“Are you sure you should be concerned about his schedule? Maybe… it’s something more?” Hongjoong added nonchalantly, his casual demeanor contrasting sharply with the seriousness of his implication.

You felt a wave of confusion wash over you. What was he suggesting? Your mind raced, trying to decipher his words. Was he implying that the distance in your relationship could be rooted in something deeper than just busy schedules? The thought unsettled you, but a part of you was intrigued by his concern. You hesitated, caught in a web of uncertainty as you considered how to respond.

“I—I’m not sure what you mean, sir…” you murmured, your gaze dropping to your black heels, the polished tips reflecting the dim light of the office.

“Come here, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice a blend of softness and authority that sent a shiver down your spine. Almost instinctively, you found your feet moving toward him, the rhythmic click of your pumps echoing softly against the floor as you approached. You stopped just in front of his black loafers, your heart racing in your chest.

“Closer,” he instructed, his voice lowering, deepening with an intensity that made you catch your breath. You stepped forward, positioning yourself between his slightly parted legs, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand reached out, a gentle yet firm grasp settling on your waist. You gasped in shock, the unexpected warmth of his touch flooding through you. This is wrong, you thought, panic stirring within, but something deeper held you in place, a pull that made it difficult to consider pulling away. Instead, you stood there, caught in a moment that felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Maybe…” Hongjoong began, his thumb rubbing softly against the fabric of your blouse, the gentle motion both soothing and unsettling.

“your partner is being unfaithful…?” The words hung heavy in the air, a sentence that felt like a blade slicing through your gut.

A part of you recoiled at the thought, refusing to believe it. Yet, as you stood there, something nagged at you, a whisper of doubt that you couldn’t shake. The realization that he might be right crept in like a shadow, darkening your thoughts. Stupidly, your heart leaped to defend Siwoo, the man you cared for, even as uncertainty gnawed at you.

“Mr. Kim, I don’t appreciate you assuming that,” you replied quietly, your voice barely above a whisper as you stared between the gap of Hongjoong’s legs that revealed the floor, refusing to meet his gaze.

“You don’t know our relationship, so please do not accuse him of such acts…” you added, your tone a fragile mixture of firmness and vulnerability. As the words left your lips, you felt your eyes begin to well with tears, confusion and anger swirling within you. You trusted Siwoo; you had to. But the doubts Hongjoong had planted took root, and you didn’t understand why he was suddenly acting like this.

You wanted to leave, to escape the charged atmosphere and the unsettling intimacy of the moment, but your feet remained stuck to the floor. Deep down, beneath the rising tide of panic, you recognized that you craved the odd comfort Hongjoong provided, a warmth that felt so different from the turmoil in your heart.

Suddenly, a whimper escaped your lips, a sound that surprised you as tears began to cascade down your cheeks, dropping onto Hongjoong’s lap.

“Oh, baby…” Hongjoong cooed, his voice laced with a tenderness. You gasped at the sudden pet name. With a gentle yet deliberate movement, his unoccupied hand reached toward your face, lifting your chin slightly so that he could wipe away the tears that streamed relentlessly down. Your eyes however, still refusing to look at him. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver through you, and your heart raced at the intimacy of the moment.

“You defend him, yet you’re crying,” he observed, his voice low and soothing, but his words only added to the turmoil within you. It was as if he could see right through the facade you had tried to maintain. As his hand, previously resting on your waist, moved to the other side of your face, you felt the weight of his palms cupping your cheeks, an act of reassurance that both calmed and stirred your emotions.

“Look at me, Y/N” Hongjoong softly demands. Your pretty eyes look at him. Sparkling from the tears that are still streaming down your face slowly. Hongjoong bit his lip, fighting to maintain his composure, though he couldn’t help but think how fucken pretty you look when you cried… how vulnerable.

“I’m sorry for assuming,” he continued, his tone tender yet firm. “It was unprofessional of me. I was just trying to express my concerns.” His fingers brushed against your skin as he gently cupped your face, his thumbs softly stroking away the remnants of your tears. “I don’t want to see you cry anymore, okay?”

Confusion swirled within you, a mix of gratitude and uncertainty. What was Hongjoong doing? His touch sent conflicting signals through your mind, making it hard to decipher the intentions behind his kindness. You felt your heart race as he held your gaze, searching for answers that remained elusive.

“Let me take you home. It’s getting late.” He reluctantly withdrew his hands, the warmth of his touch lingering on your skin. Hongjoong lightly tapped your waist,

“Okay?” he asked again, his voice softening as he sought your approval. You nodded, your heart fluttering as you looked into his eyes, those doe-like orbs filled with an innocence that belied the complexities of your situation. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, each moment stretching out as you found solace in his presence, even amidst the confusion.

———

The car glided smoothly along the quiet streets, the only sounds breaking the stillness were the gentle notes floating from the radio and the rhythmic tapping of Hongjoong’s fingers on the steering wheel. Each beat resonated with the unspoken tension lingering between you, a subtle backdrop to the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your mind.

As the car pulled up in front of your apartment building, you felt a mix of relief and reluctance. The evening air was cool against your skin as you unbuckled your seatbelt and gathered your bags, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders.

“Thank you for the ride, Mr. Kim,” you said, bowing your head slightly, unable to meet his gaze. It was a gesture of politeness, but it felt more like a shield, protecting you from the warmth of his soft smile that you could sense even without looking.

“No worries, Miss Y/N. I’ll see you Monday,” he replied, his voice soft but filled with an unshakeable confidence. You heard the warmth in his tone, even as you turned away and walked towards the entrance of your apartment building, his farewell echoing in your ears.

The elevator ride felt interminable as you ascended to your floor, each ding of the buttons amplifying the heaviness in your chest. Finally, you stepped into your small apartment, the familiar space offering little comfort. You dragged your feet toward your room, exhaustion pulling you down, both physically and emotionally.

Once inside, you kicked off your heels, the sharp clack against the floor a welcome relief. You stripped off your clothes with a mindless haste, leaving only your undergarments as you collapsed onto your bed. The cool sheets enveloped you, but they couldn’t ease the confusion swirling in your thoughts.

With a deep, resigned sigh, you sank into the mattress, your mind replaying fragments of your conversation with Hongjoong.

In a moment of desperation, you reached for your phone, dialing Siwoo’s number. The ringing felt like an eternity, and when it went to voicemail, a knot tightened in your stomach. You glanced at the clock—10 PM. Another attempt led to the same unyielding voicemail. Frustration filled within you, mixing with a pang of anxiety that settled in your chest.

You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. The coolness of the room contrasted sharply with the heat of your thoughts. Slowly, memories of Hongjoong flooded your mind—his perfect figure leaning casually against the desk, his strong hand lingering on your arm, the gentle caress of his fingers against your face.

Your heart ached, not for Siwoo, but for Hongjoong. You suddenly craved his comforting and reassuring voice. His lingering touch on your skin. Your legs close together as you feel a wave of warmth between your thighs. Your hands moved down your soft skin, reaching towards your heat…

You gasp softly, shaking your head, trying to dismiss these feelings. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. You shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. Hongjoong is your Boss. And plus you have Siwoo. Your… loving boyfriend.

The weight of silence wraps around you like a thick fog, pressing down on your chest as you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. You can’t shake the feeling that these spiraling thoughts. In frustration you convince yourself that you’re probably just deprived of touch from your significant other.

With sudden resolve, you push yourself up from the tangled sheets, the cool air sending a shiver down your spine, and head towards the bathroom. Turning on the water, you let your thoughts drown in the hot water. Making your way back to your room, you slowly dry off and change into pajamas.

As your head hits the pillow, a sense of calm envelops you, pulling you into a deep slumber. The world outside fades, and for the first time in ages, you allow yourself to drift away, hoping that tomorrow will bring a spark of connection back into your life.

———

The first rays of sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across your home office. You’re working from home today, since Hongjoong isn’t in office on the weekends. You sat your desk with a steaming cup of coffee cradled in your hands, you let the aroma fill your senses, the rich, dark liquid fueling your focus as your fingers typing across the keyboard.

The rhythmic sound of your typing created a serene atmosphere until it was interrupted by a sharp buzz from the apartment door.

Setting your coffee down, you pushed back your chair and stood, feeling a strange mix of anticipation and dread as you approached the door. Taking a deep breath, you swung it open, and your heart dropped. Standing there, looking both sheepish and regretful, was Siwoo, clutching a bouquet of flowers.

“Y/N, honey, I’m so sorry for flaking out on you so many times,” he said with a fake pout.

A year ago, you would have melted at this display. You might have accepted his half-assed apology with a smile, the flowers a token of his remorse. But today, your mind raced with reminders of all the times he had done this before. The constant stand-ups, the empty promises, the fleeting moments of connection overshadowed by disappointment.

Your heart ached, not with the sweet pang of love but with the heavy weight of frustration. You stood there, staring at him, emotions swirling within you like a storm. Hurt and upset battled against the tenderness that still lingered for him. You could feel the walls you had carefully built in the past months tightening around you, whispering that this was a cycle you were tired of repeating.

But your heart, foolishly hopeful, betrayed you. Before you could think it through, you found yourself reaching for the bouquet, inhaling the sweet scent of fresh blooms. Then, without a second thought, you pulled him into a tight embrace. As his arms wrapped around you, the familiar warmth flooded back, and you felt your resolve waver.

In that moment, you wanted to believe that this time would be different. Yet beneath the surface, a deeper ache throbbed—a desperate question lingered in your mind: why do you keep doing this to me?

As the hours unfolded, Siwoo settled into a chair across from your desk, his laptop open and papers scattered around him. The familiar hum of shared work surrounded you, a scene that once brought you joy. He would glance up occasionally, flashing you a smile that was meant to soothe the tension in the air. Yet, despite the comforting proximity, your heart was locked in a battle against the memories of hurt he had inflicted upon you.

You tried to push those thoughts aside, forcing yourself to focus on the tasks at hand. Still, they lingered like unwelcome shadows, flitting in and out of your consciousness. Each time Siwoo laughed at something on his screen or leaned back with a satisfied sigh, a part of you wanted to bask in the moment, to let yourself feel the happiness he once brought. But the other part—a weary, wiser part—reminded you of the countless times he had let you down.

Your mind already flooded with so many issues, decided to remind you of last night’s conversation with Hongjoong—the way he spoke to you, his touch… The longing for deeper connections hung heavily on your mind, teasing you with confusion.

You caught Siwoo watching you, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice breaking through your reverie.

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah, just thinking about work.”

———

Throughout the day, with Siwoo at your side, a disquieting realization settled in your chest: you felt less like his girlfriend and more like a maid. He moved to lounge in your living room, casually asking for snacks and drinks while you sat at your desk, trying to concentrate on your work. Each request chipped away at your patience, drawing a line between the intimate moments you once cherished and the mundane reality of this interaction.

Glancing over, you caught sight of him: relaxed, almost carefree, tapping away on his phone with a soft laugh escaping his lips. Maybe it was Hongjoong’s words playing tricks on you, but a knot twisted in your stomach as you watched Siwoo, feeling an unfamiliar ick wash over you. It felt as though he was taking advantage of your hospitality, oblivious to the growing frustration bubbling within you.

“Oh, Y/N, can I borrow some money?” Siwoo asked, his voice casual, his eyes glued to the screen as he continued to chuckle at whatever amused him.

“May I ask why?” You replied softly, a frown creasing your brow as confusion settled in.

“I need to buy new materials for work. It’s required for all professors, and I’m just short by a few bucks,” he explained, his gaze still firmly fixed on his phone.

You raised an eyebrow, skepticism creeping in. “Doesn’t the university cover materials for professors?”

“Mmm, not this time. Please?” he said, finally looking up at you, his irritating smile brightening his face as if he expected you to fold under the charm.

Taking a deep breath, you felt the tension in your chest tighten, but you nodded anyway, wiring him a sum that was likely more than he needed. Maybe it was an act of guilt or an old habit of wanting to keep the peace.

“Thanks, honey. You’re the best!” he said, standing up and slinging his bag over his shoulder. The grin on his face widened as he returned to his phone, engrossed once more in whatever had captured his attention.

“Y—you’re leaving so soon?” The words spilled out before you could stop them, a mix of desperation and disappointment. “I’m almost done with work. Let’s have dinner…”

He turned to you, his expression unchanged. “Maybe another day, Y/N. I have to head back to the campus.”

With that, he walked out without a backward glance, leaving you standing there, a swirl of emotions crashing against one another. As the door clicked shut, the weight of his absence pressed heavily on your heart, mingling with the irritation that had been building all day.

——

The weekend slipped away in a blur, its fleeting hours vanishing like sand through fingers. As you stepped into the office on Monday morning, you glanced around the workspace, filled with the scent of fresh coffee and the faint rustle of papers, and realized you wanted to be here. The thought of Hongjoong entered your mind unbidden. You couldn’t help but remember the conversations that had left you feeling confused but wanting more.

But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside, chastising yourself. This wasn’t the time for daydreams. You were his secretary, bound by professional decorum. It was crucial to maintain composure, to focus on your tasks and responsibilities. After all, any semblance of personal feelings could only complicate matters.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you said, bowing slightly from your desk as he entered his office, and you follow behind him. The air felt charged with unspoken tension, a remnant of the incident that had unfolded just days prior, a moment you both seemed to ignore.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N,” Hongjoong replied, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he settled into his chair behind the desk. His eyes flickered momentarily to the iced Americano you had picked up for him earlier, the cool condensation glistening against the glass.

“What is the schedule for today?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, his posture relaxed, but you could sense the sharpness in his gaze as it remained fixed on you.

Clearing your throat, you began to relay the day’s itinerary, focusing intently on your notes. “We have the marketing meeting at ten, followed by the conference call with the investors at noon.” You spoke steadily, but your heart raced, memories of that night creeping back into your mind—a fleeting brush of his hands, the way his gaze had pierced through the façade of professionalism.

Hongjoong listened, nodding occasionally, but there was an air of distraction about him, too. He was acting as if nothing had happened, and you were determined to do the same, though it felt like walking a tightrope. You maintained your composure, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady and professional as you continued.

His expression remained neutral, but there was an undercurrent of something unspoken between you. You stole a glance at him, noting how the light caught the edges of his features, the way he effortlessly commanded the space around him.

“And finally,” you added, pushing the memories further down, “we have a team meeting at four to discuss the new project timeline.”

As you finished, a heavy silence settled in the room, punctuated only by the soft sound of his drink being set down on the desk. You met his gaze, feeling the weight of the unacknowledged moment hanging in the air. “Thank you, Y/N,” Hongjoong said, his voice smooth as he rose from his chair. The brief moment of gratitude hung in the air between you, creating a small, intimate space in an otherwise professional atmosphere. You bowed slightly in acknowledgment, the familiar gesture a part of your daily routine, before you turned on your heels, ready to leave the room.

“Wait a moment,” he called out just as you reached the door. You paused, your heart skipping a beat, then turned back to face him.

“Yes, sir?” you replied, your voice steady but your mind racing.

“How are you doing?” he asked, the question casual yet layered with an unexpected warmth. The simplicity of it took you aback, a small flicker of surprise igniting within you.

“I—I’m well, sir. Thank you for asking.” You stumbled over your words slightly, an involuntary shyness creeping in. “How about you?” You returned the question out of politeness.

“That’s good to hear, Y/N,” he replied, his soft smile breaking through the formalities and lighting up the room. “I’m doing fine as well.”

You nodded, the warmth of his expression lingering in the air as you took in the moment. “I’ll get back to my work then,” you said, turning once more to leave.

As you stepped out of his office, the door closing softly behind you, you made your way back to your desk, the echo of his words and that fleeting smile still resonating within you.

——

Once you stepped out of Hongjoong’s office, he sank back into his chair, the weight of the world settling on his shoulders as his thoughts turned inward, swirling around you. He couldn’t deny the fondness he felt. From the moment you had started working as his secretary, you had made it clear that you were in a serious relationship. He respected your loyalty, admired it even, but it didn’t erase the growing complexity of his own feelings for you.

As he gazed out the window, memories flooded back, particularly the recent lunch meeting on Friday. You had accompanied him at the last minute, and during the drive, when you admitted to him about your relationship struggles. The admission struck him deeply—he felt a flicker of triumph at your honesty, a selfish part of him celebrating. Yet, mingled with that spark was a simmering anger; the man you were with was clearly causing you distress.

After returning to the office, you took your promised hour break, and Hongjoong found himself drawn to the rooftop. He hadn’t intended to pry; he simply wanted to offer words of encouragement, to lift your spirits. But as he approached, he overheard your phone ring and the familiar cadence of your voice pick up the call. A sinking feeling took root in his stomach when he recognized the voice on the other end—Siwoo, your boyfriend.

He paused at the steel door, unable to resist the urge to listen. Siwoo’s breathless tone was unmistakable, the hurried speech revealing more than mere exertion from a workout. Hongjoong's heart raced as he deduced the truth— Any man would know, this was not the voice of a faithful partner. The realization struck him like a punch; this man had the audacity to take your call while clearly entangled in something inappropriate.

A rush of guilt washed over him as he retreated to his office, grappling with the anger that grew beneath the surface. How could someone hurt you, an innocent, kind, and beautiful person? He felt torn, wanting to protect you while recognizing the boundaries he had vowed to uphold.

In the hours that followed, a storm of thoughts brewed within him. It was reckless, perhaps, but the idea of bringing you into his office after hours began to take root. He wanted to voice his concerns casually. But when you began to softly cry, that’s when he felt the line blur. The sight of your flushed cheeks, your pretty doe-like eyes glistening with unshed tears— (fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking like that).

Hongjoong pulled back from his reminiscent thoughts, deciding it was best to let you navigate this situation on your own. Maybe you would uncover the truth about Siwoo, perhaps the pieces would fall into place. But the uncertainty gnawed at him, and as he sat in his office, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could contain his feelings, how much longer he could remain a silent observer to your heartache.

Fuck it? Hongjoong thought to himself. Siwoo deserves a taste of his own medicine.

Hongjoong scoffed to himself at his idea as he sipped on his coffee.

———

The workday unfolded in its usual rhythm, a blur of emails, calls, and the occasional paperwork that seemed to multiply by the hour. You navigated through the tasks with a practiced efficiency, though your mind occasionally drifted to the flurry of messages buzzing on your phone. Each notification from Siwoo felt like a weight pressing down on you, filled with meaningless apologies, and pleads to wire money for some other things, god knows what he needed it for.

With a deep breath, you made the decision to ignore his messages for now. You turned your focus back to your work, fingers typing over the keyboard, pouring your energy into the tasks at hand.

As you typed, the sound of footsteps drew your attention. You looked up to find Hongjoong standing before your desk, his presence commanding yet familiar. He had a way of drawing you in, and for a moment, the chaos of your personal life faded into the background.

“Miss Y/N, please come to my office after work hours,” he said, his tone smooth yet imbued with a seriousness that piqued your curiosity. He turned and strode into his office, leaving you with a flurry of thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched him go.

With a sigh, you returned to your work, the clock ticking steadily toward the end of the day. Each keystroke felt heavier as the minutes dragged on, and the anticipation of your meeting with Hongjoong lingered like a sweet ache in your heart.

———

As the final colleagues trickled out of the building, the quiet hum of the office began to settle into an echo of solitude. You sighed as you recalled Hongjoong’s instructions. Straightening your buttoned blouse and smoothing down your skirt, you prepared yourself for whatever awaited you in his office.

You knocked softly, the sound barely breaking the silence.

“Come in,” Hongjoong’s voice resonated through the door. You opened it slowly and stepped inside, closing it behind you with a soft click.

Hongjoong was seated at his desk, his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms accentuated by a dark tie. The sight of him brought a swirl of emotions; he exuded an effortless charisma that both intimidated and drew you in.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” you said, your gaze fixed on the floor, an attempt to hide the mix of anxiety and curiosity swelling inside you.

“Yes, please come here, Y/N,” he replied, his voice calm and low. As you approached him, the familiar sound of your heels clicking against the polished floor echoed in your mind, reminding you of the similar situation a few days ago in this very spot.

“Please, sit,” he gestured toward the chair in front of his desk. You took a seat, positioning yourself at the edge, an instinctive reaction born from uncertainty.

Hongjoong rose from his chair and began to circle around the desk, a pen spinning effortlessly between his slender fingers. The movement was fluid, almost hypnotic, and it pulled your attention as you tried to read his expression.

“Miss Y/N,” he began, pausing for a moment, “you’re one of my smartest employees, correct?” His gaze remained focused elsewhere, a slight distance in his eyes.

“Th—thank you, sir. I—” you started, but his voice cut through your response.

“A person with an important job like yours requires a lot of skill, attentiveness… and have the ability assess the environment around the office, Correct?”

“Yes… that is correct, sir,” you replied quietly, maintaining eye contact,

“Would you agree that you have been lacking some of these skills, Y/N?” Hongjoong stopped infront of you, sitting at the edge of his desk. His arms crossed over his chest, revealing the strong veins that ran along his forearms, an unconscious display of his physicality that made your heart race.

“I—I haven’t noticed, sir. I apologize if I haven’t been performing well…” The words tumbled out, anxiety creeping in. Were you about to get fired? The thought sent a chill through you, and you mentally recoiled at the prospect of your life spiraling further down.

“I’m not going to fire you, Y/N,” he said, and your eyes widened in surprise; it was as if he had plucked the thought straight from your mind.

“I’m not really following this conversation, sir…” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper as you began to fidget with your fingers in your lap, seeking any distraction from the mounting tension.

Hongjoong released a frustrated sigh, and suddenly he pushed himself off the edge of the desk, stepping toward you slowly. His strong arms landed on the armrests of your chair, effectively trapping you in place. He leaned in closer, the proximity forcing you to lean back into the seat, a gasp escaping your lips at the sudden intimacy of the moment.

The air between you thickened. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the sharpness of his gaze holding you captive.

He scoffed, the corner of his lip turning into a smirk as he looked down. His eyes landed on the unbuttoned opening of your shirt. He sees your chest breathing up and down in anticipation. He looks up, gazes at your lips quickly before looking into your eyes.

“For someone so pretty and smart, you’re quite naive” He chuckles. A rush of heat seeps into your cheeks. You’re at a loss for words. You don’t know how to respond, so you opt to stay silent.

“Miss Y/N” Hongjoong says sternly in a soft voice.

“Yes, Sir?” You quietly reply back.

“Can you assess the environment in this office right now?” His voice is a whisper.

“U—Uhm…” you stutter, not knowing what to say. Hongjoong chuckles at your flustered expression.

“Let me give you a hint, Y/N” Hongjoong whispers and leans in closer, his presence enveloping you like a warm wave. Then, in a moment that felt both thrilling and terrifying, his lips brushed against yours. Your eyes widened in shock. This is wrong, a voice in your mind screamed. You shouldn’t be doing this. But as much as you tried to summon the strength to pull away, your body betrayed you.

His lips were soft, warm, and surprisingly gentle as they molded against yours, igniting a fire that swept through you. The worries around you faded, leaving only the two of you suspended in this unexpected moment. It felt as if time had stopped, your heartbeat loud in your ears, drowning out the rational thoughts that screamed for you to stop.

As he finally pulled away, the distance felt electric, charged with a lingering intimacy. His gaze searched yours, earnest and intense. “Do you understand now?” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. You nod slowly.

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks softly as he looks at your plush lips. You hesitate, unsure of what to say. All you know is that you want whatever lingering feelings Hongjoong has bestowed on you. As much as you know it’s wrong, you can’t help but crave him.

In response to his question, You shake your head in protest. His thumb caresses your chin tilting your head to look up at him.

“Use your words baby.” Hongjoong’s voice is low as he stares into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Please… don’t stop sir.” You say quietly. Hongjoong smirks and pulls way from you. You look at him confused. His position is sat back onto the edge of his desk.

“Show me you want it too Y/N” He’s teasing you. Wanting to see how far you’re willing to go. Knowing that deep inside, as much as you want this you still feel a tiny ounce of guilt from being unfaithful to your partner. Regardless, You rise from the chair and make your way to Hongjoong. You position yourself between his legs that are slightly spread and place both your arms on his shoulders. You lean forward and kiss him. Hongjoong returns the kiss almost immediately. He can feel himself already growing hard as his lips move against yours. His hands are securely gripped onto your waist bringing you closer to him. He deepens the kiss and swipes his tongue over the bottom of your lip. In response your mouth opens as you release a whimper. Both of your tongues now move together skillfully, resulting in a moan from both of you. As the heated make-out session continues, you notice Hongjoong’s arm pushing away some papers and other items on the desk behind him.

Smoothly, Hongjoong moves your position, his strong arms swiftly carry your body onto the desk. You are now sat on top of the cold wood, arms wrapped around his neck, as he continued to devour your lips. You slightly pull back in attempt to catch your breath. You’re a panting mess, and so is he. Hongjoong however doesn’t want to stop. He pecks your lips, before leaving a trail kisses from the corner of your mouth, to your soft cheek, and finally to your slender neck. Shivers were sent throughout your body as Hongjoong left soft warm kisses on your neck.

“A—ah Sir…” you whimpered quietly. Hongjoong hummed in response as he began to leave opened mouth kisses on your skin.

Hongjoong pushed your legs apart, your skirt already slightly hiked up from him placing you on the desk moments ago. Revealing your exposed thighs, Hongjoong’s hands moved from knees, and traveled up your soft plush thighs, causing you to close them in an instinct, but his strong arms prevent you, keeping them open.

His lips trails up to your ear nibbles on your lobe before whispering softly, “I want you to say my name okay?” You nod in response.

His hands moved dangerously closer to your heat that was radiating from your exposed thighs, but he stops, he was teasing you. His hands caressed your inner thighs, not daring to move closer as he continued to kiss your neck and face. His lips found his way back to yours and takes it in softly.

You whimper against his mouth and he slowly pulls away.

“What’s wrong baby?” His voice is so soft, sending another heat wave down your body.

“Please… touch me, sir” you say sheepishly.

“I told you Y/N, I want you to say my name.” Hongjoong’s grip on your thighs tighten, causing you to whimper in pain and pleasure.

“H—Hongjoong…” your soft, angelic voice echoed in his ears as his name rolled off your tongue.

“Yeah baby?” He tries to hold back a groan, already so turned on by you calling his name.

“Hongjoong, touch me… please?” You plead with your doe eyes staring at him. Hongjoong bites his lip as he looks at your pretty, desperate face.

“Fuck, Y/N… you make me do stupid shit” He curses under his breath before devouring your lips once again.

This time, his hands finally touch your warm clothed pussy. You moan at his touch. His fingers slowly rub against your clit, creating a friction against the fabric of your underwear. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck tighter. Moaning into his lips as he continues to rub you.

Unexpectedly, tears began to well up in the corner of your eyes. Not in pain, not in discomfort, but in a frustrating pleasure.

“Hong—j-joong, stop teasing please” You whimper as he slightly pulls away. He looks at your face, tears slowly falling down. He smirks, “Mm such a dirty brat, crying for me…” He degrades you in a low tone.

His hands find the hem of your underwear, and he skillfully pulls them down. They rest at the ankles of your legs, stopped by your heels that restricted them from falling to the floor. Hongjoong’s left arm cradles your back, as his right hand pushes up your skirt more to reveal your bare wet pussy.

“Fuck… so wet already just from me kissing you, and barely touching you?” He teases you, even though he too is already so rock hard in his slacks, from just kissing and touching you.

His hand makes his way to your clit. The soft bud of his middle and ring finger gently rubs circles, causing you to hold back a moan. Skillfully, his fingers dip down to your entrance, not fully going inside you, just enough to collect your wet fluids, and bring them back up to your clit. He rubs it again, slowly picking up the pace.

Your right hand drops behind you as it land on the desk, supporting your weight. You slightly throw your head back and cover your mouth with your unoccupied arm trying to hide your moans.

“Let me fucken hear you moan baby. No one is here. Just you and me” Hongjoong groans in your ear. His voice turned you on so much, resulting in a soft moan slipping from your lips.

Hongjoong’s fingers make their way to your entrance. Slipping in your tight folds. You gasp and grab onto his shoulder. He pumps his fingers slowly, as he studies your facial expressions. Your eyes are sparkling from the previous tears you shed. Your glossy lips slightly parted as you released soft moans.

“So fucken pretty” Hongjoong moans as he leans down to kiss your forehead. The gentle gesture, mixed with his lewd actions makes your stomach turn in a good way. He begins to pick up the pace. The office room is silent, with only the sounds of your mixed moans, pants, and the wetness of your folds fapping against Hongjoong’s hand.

Your mind begins to get fuzzy as you feel an orgasm near by. Hongjoong feels your pussy tighten around his digits, he chuckles before he slowly pulls his fingers out of you. You whine in protest, frustration builds up in you, you were so close. Your arm around his neck tugs him closer, reaching for his lips, wanting to feel some sort of physical contact. But he pulls away from you. Completely. He steps back and looks at your figure.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, an unsettling knot tightening in your stomach. Why did he stop? Just moments ago, the air had felt charged with lust, and now it hung heavy with an unspoken tension. A flood of negative thoughts surged through your mind, drowning out any remnants of clarity. Embarrassment crept in, a heat rising to your cheeks, making you feel exposed and vulnerable. Guilt wrapped around you like a heavy cloak, its weight almost suffocating. You could feel the sting of tears pooling in your eyes, the familiar ache of despair threatening to spill over. In a swift, instinctive motion, you cast your gaze downward, as if to shield yourself from the world around you. Your heart raced as quiet whimpers escaped your lips.

Hongjoong watches you as you softly cry. He tries not to loose his composure. The cute look of confusion on your face makes him feral.

“Aww baby… why are you crying hm?” Hongjoong’s voice is raspy. He tilts his head, trying to get a good look at your flushed face. You can’t find yourself to respond, only sniffles and soft whimpers can be heard.

“You know… to be completely honest Y/N…” the sound of Hongjoong’s belt unbuckling fills the air. You glance at him with your doe eyes.

“When I told you… I don’t want to see you cry anymore…” He slings his belt off his pants and drops it to the floor. His hands moving towards the button of his slacks. He shifts towards your body, and leans close to your face.

“I actually meant… I don’t want to see you cry for anyone else but me.” Your eyes widen at his statement. He chuckles at your expression and grabs your hands. He brings them towards his hard mound covered by the soft fabric of his pants.

“You look so fucken pretty when you cry. It turns me on so much. Knowing that you feel so good, you can’t help but shed a few tears” He moans as you begin to instinctively rub your hands on his huge hard on.

“Help me out baby. Be a good girl” Hongjoong whispers to you, and you nod. He smiles at your response. You make your way off the desk, and position yourself on your knees. You slowly unzip Hongjoong’s pants and pull them down along with his trousers. His hard, long cock springs out and softly hits your face. You gasp at the sudden sight. Earning a chuckle from him.

“Open your mouth.” He demands softly. Your lips part, tongue slightly sticking out, as you take Hongjoong’s length in. He releases a loud groan. Cursing under his breath as you begin to slowly bob your head up and down. You twirl your tongue a few times over his tip, causing him to tightly grip onto your soft hair.

“F—Fuck baby…” Hongjoong throws his head back.

“… damn, your boyfriend is this lucky and can’t even fucken appreciate you” You freeze at the sudden statement, and Hongjoong smirks as he scoffs. In response, he begins to thrust into your mouth slowly. You moan on his cock as he begins to shove himself deeper into your mouth. You tap Hongjoong’s leg, and he pulls you off him instantly. You gasp for air, a string of saliva connecting from your lip to his cock, as you begin to cough. Hongjoong chuckles, caressing your hair.

“Stand up” He demands. And in an instant you’re on your feet. Hongjoong swiftly lifts you up and places you back onto the desk. His hands are hastily unbuttoning your blouse as he kisses your lips. You moan, furrowing your brows, still thinking about the humiliating statement Hongjoong said. Something about his touch is so intoxicating, making you want more. Making you not care about anything in your reality.

As Hongjoong releases the last button on your blouse, he quickly pushes your shirt off, revealing your black lacy bra filled by your perfect plush breasts. His hands grace over your chest, sending shivers down your spine. He kisses the exposed skin of your breast. His hands moving towards the straps, as he pulls them off. He reaches behind you and skillfully releases the clasps of your bra. The black lace drops swiftly revealing your perfect boobs.

“So fucken perfect for me baby.” Hongjoong whispers as he gropes them with his hands. You moan at his touch. He takes one in his mouth and laps at your nipples, resulting in you throwing your head back in pleasure.

“H—Hongjoong” you moan his name, he hums in response, still working on your breasts.

“Want.. m—more” you stutter under his touch.

He pulls away from you and pants, trying to calm himself down.

“Want more what?” He cocks an eyebrow at you. You pout, too embarrassed to verbally say what you want from him.

“Tell me now, or I’ll leave you here” Hongjoong threatens as he begins to pump himself, already knowing what you want. But he still wants to hear the words from your mouth.

“I want… you inside me… please?” You whimper in embarrassment. You look at him and you see a spark of excitement in his eyes as he smirks at you.

“Atta girl. Wasn’t so hard to say right?” He teases you as he brings himself closer to your pussy. Your breath increases as he places his tip right at the entrance. He only inserts his head before pulling out, repeating the gesture a few times. You whine as a tear falls from your eyes.

“Quit being a fucken brat” Hongjoong hisses at you bringing a gentle hand to your face as he wipes the tear away. Finally, He pushes his whole length inside you, earning a loud yelp from you. His cock instantly hits your sensitive spot and you cling onto his arms. He pauses inside of you, letting you adjust to his size. You’re definitely not used to his large length and thick girth, he’s stretching you out so good.

“Damn baby, you’re so tight? Your boyfriend isn’t big enough huh?” Hongjoong snickers at you. You whine at the sudden mention of your boyfriend again. It’s like he wants to remind you of him on purpose. To humiliate you. Hongjoong begins a slow pace inside you. Grunting as he moves against you.

“Answer me…” he demands, his hand cups your chin to force your gaze on him.

“H—he isn’t big enough. Y—you’re bigger Hongjoong…” You moan as he thrusts deeper.

“You… make me feel s—so good” You close your eyes as you take in the pleasure running through your body. Hongjoong manically smiles. Ecstatic at your response.

“Yeah?” He teases. Picking up his pace. The sound of your sweet moans heighten, the wet sounds of you two slapping against each other fill the room along with Hongjoong’s dirty words.

“Bet you, he doesn’t fuck you this good huh? Look at you. A fucken mess on my cock.”

“N-no! He doesn’t.” You whine, another wave of tears begin to fall from your eyes. The overstimulation of Hongjoong pumping into you along with his degrading words overwhelms you. You don’t want to admit it, but you fucken love this. Your body is enjoying every fucken moment of this dirty, lewd affair.

“F-Fuucckk” Hongjoong moans loudly. “Look at me while you cry, baby. Let me see that pretty face” you listen to him without hesitation. Your eyes locking with his. You feel yourself closer to reaching your high. Until you’re both interrupted with a sudden ringing.

You both turn your heads to the chair you sat on when you first entered Hongjoong’s office. The sight of your bright phone screen illuminates the dim room.

*Siwoo <3 is Calling*

Your heart drops at the name. Anxiety suddenly filling your body, replacing the pleasure you felt before. Hongjoong notices and smirks at you. He reaches over and grabs your phone.

“Answer it.” He demands. You shake your head no.

“I said fucken answer it. Your boyfriend is waiting for you. Don’t be a fucken brat now. Do you want me to stop?” Hongjoong’s words are harsh. You instantly shake your head in protest of him stopping.

“Then fucken answer it” Hongjoong shoves the phone towards you.

You hesitate as you grab the phone from his hands and click the green button. You bring the phone to your ear, but Hongjoong pulls your wrist, and clicks on the speaker button. He cocks his head at you, signaling you to continue,

“H-Hello? Siwoo?” You begin. Hongjoong resumes his pace. Fucking you in and out.

“Hey Honey. What are you doing?” Siwoo’s voice is calm, in contrast to what you’re feeling right now.

“A-Ah.. I’m j-just finishing up some w-work” You stutter as you try to keep your composure. Hongjoong makes it harder for you as he begins to lick your neck.

“You’re still at work?” Siwoo questions.

“M—mm, Yeah. Don’t worry. I—I’ll be home soon” You bite your lip trying to contain a moan.

“You okay Y/N? why do you keep stuttering?” Siwoo’s voices a concern.

“I—i’m okay. I-I just don’t feel too well. I think it’s a stomach tic” You bluff, trying to find an excuse.

“You don’t feel well? Shall I come pick you up from work-?” Siwoo suggests

“No!” You cut him off. You curse to yourself. Hongjoong smiles against a your neck and softly bites it as he continues fucking you senseless.

“Oh- okay then. Just be careful. take some medicine” You roll your eyes. (why the fuck does Siwoo decide to be sweet right now out of all days?) You mentally say to yourself.

“Y-yes I will…” You reply softly.

“Anyways, did you see my text? can you wire me some money?” Siwoo asks nonchalantly. You scoff, earning a vocalized chuckle from Hongjoong. Your eyes widen as you pull him closer to your neck, trying to muffle his laughter. You bite your lip, in hopes Siwoo didn’t hear anything.

“S—sorry, Siwoo. I don’t get paid till this Friday.” you manage to get out.

“Aww please? just a few bucks” Siwoo whines. In annoyance, you roll your eyes once again.

“Siwoo, I—I can’t. I have to go” You quickly hang up the call and throw your phone down. Hongjoong detaches from your neck and chuckles before attacking your lips. His pace begins to pick up. He holds onto your waist for support and you hold him closer. Hongjoong pulls away from your lips and rests his forehead against yours.

“Does he take care of you? or do you take care of him?” He teases as he tries to hold back a laugh.

“S—Shut up” You moan in response. Hongjoong thrusts hard into you, earning a loud yelp from you.

“Someone’s suddenly mouthy?” Hongjoong’s hand grips onto your chin as he lightly taps your cheek.

“F—Fuck” You moan as he shoves himself inside you, with long and deep strokes.

Hongjoong then suddenly pulls out of you. Not wanting to waste any time, he lifts you off the desk and flips you over. Your front is pushed onto the cold wood, and he pulls your hips higher. Your forearms hoist yourself for support as you feel Hongjoong enter you once again. His hands grip under your skirt pushing them up towards your waist, giving him a perfect view of your ass. He mentally curses to himself as he watches your butt bounce on his cock at a constant pace. He brings his hand down to caress it before raising it and bringing it back down in a hard, but pleasurable slap. You yelp in response, eyes widen at the sudden contact.

“Such a fucken naughty girl. Fucking your boss, when you have a boyfriend” Hongjoong degrades you as his hand makes contact with your ass again. You whimper at the stinging sensation. Your tears fall onto the papers infront of you.

“Who fucks you better baby?” Hongjoong pants as his speed increases. “Me or Siwoo? Hm?” He asks again taking you in deeper.

“A—Ahhhh~ You, Hongjoong.” You sniffle your tears , “Hongjoong fucks me better!” You scream as his pace becomes sloppy. Hongjoong hears your crying whimpers and quickly turns you around to face him. Your body now lays flat on his desk as he pumps into you.

“Yeah? bet I can be better lover than him too” Hongjoong confesses as he smashes his lips onto yours. Your heart clenches at his statement. A sudden wave of orgasm hits you. Your pussy tightens around him as you come undone. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you release a loud moan. Your face buried in his chest, as he continues to fuck you and chase his high. Hongjoong’s thrust become sloppy, and quickly pulls out of you.

“Let me cum on your pretty face” He hastily demands. You quickly move towards his lower body and he pumps himself quickly on you. Hongjoong looks at your sparkly doe eyes, and bites his lips. His warm thick load releases into your face, along with a loud grunt from his mouth. You gasp as the feeling of the strings of cum landing on your soft skin. Your mouth instinctively opens,

“F—Fuckkk baby” Hongjoong hisses as he continues to pump more of his load onto your tongue.

The office room is filled with the sounds of you and Hongjoong panting, trying to catch your breath. The room reeks of sex. Your eyes are still locked on his. His white cum painted on your face and mouth. Without any other choice, you close your mouth and swallow his bittersweet cum.

“Fuck” Hongjoong whispers under his breath. He caresses your hair and reaches over his desk to grab a few tissue papers. Hongjoong wipes your face gently and kisses your forehead.

"Let me clean you up down there,"

Hongjoong whispered, his voice a soft, intimate murmur that seemed to linger in

the air between you. The earlier intensity of steamy sex had left a palpable tension, but now, a gentle calm enveloped the room. His eyes, once aflame with desire, were now filled with a warmth that reassured you, reminding you of the caring side he often showed.

After the whirlwind of passion, Hongjoong's demeanor had transformed completely. The fire that had ignited between you both settled into a tender glow as he moved closer, his presence both comforting and protective. With a steady hand, he reached for another tissue, his fingers brushing your skin lightly as he began to clean you up. The touch was careful and deliberate, as if he were trying to convey his affection through each gentle motion.

You felt a mix of vulnerability and warmth wash over you, grateful for the way he approached this moment. It was as though he understood the importance of transitioning from the intensity of physical connection to something more nurturing and intimate. You appreciated how he took his time, ensuring that you felt cared for, both emotionally and physically. As you two began to help each other back into your clothing, you couldn’t ignore the lingering feelings.

“I’ll take you home” Hongjoong smiles gently at you and brushes a strand of your hair out of your face. You nod and follow behind him out of his office. As he approached your desk, Hongjoong gathered your bags. You instinctively reached out to grab them, but he gently shook his head, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Let me handle this,” he said, his voice warm and reassuring. With that, he took the lead, guiding you toward his car.

As you followed behind, your legs felt wobbly, you could sense him glancing back occasionally, ensuring you were still keeping up.

At the car, he paused, opening the passenger door, gesturing for you to get in. You slid into the seat. He placed your bags in the back with care, then turned to you, his demeanor softening as he reached for his spare coat. With a fluid motion, he draped it over your shoulders, its warmth enveloping you like a comforting hug.

“Hongjoong—” you started, the silence stretching between you, but he raised a hand to quiet you.

“Shh, it’s okay, Y/N. You don’t have to say anything. Just rest,” he said gently. He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

The drive home was silent. The hum of the engine a lullaby in the stillness of the night. You fought to keep your eyes open, fatigue clawing at you, but each passing moment, tried to invite you to surrender to the drowsiness. Suddenly, the car came to a stop, signaling at you from your drowsy haze. You turned to look at Hongjoong, who was already gazing at you.

“Y/N…” Hongjoong’s voice was barely above a whisper, yet it carried an undeniable weight. “I meant what I said when I told you I can be a better lover than Siwoo.” The sincerity in his tone sent a shiver down your spine. “He doesn’t treat you well. You deserve someone who truly values you.” His eyes held a raw intensity as he continued, “I don’t think I can go on without you knowing that I’ve always wanted you for myself.”

His sudden confession took you by surprise, leaving you momentarily speechless. The air around you felt charged, and you could hardly process the emotions swirling within you.

“Let me prove to you that I will love you better. Please, Y/N,” he urged, his gaze earnest and imploring. The vulnerability he displayed was a stark contrast to what he portrayed in the office just moments ago. This was a side of him that revealed his deep feelings, and it struck a chord within you.

Your heart raced as you absorbed his words, the truth of them resonating deep inside. You had long felt the magnetic pull toward him, the warmth in his presence that made you feel seen in a way Siwoo never had. You realized in that moment that you, too, wanted to love him—fully and unreservedly.

Compelled by a rush of emotion, you leaned in closer, the space between you evaporating. Your lips met his in a tender kiss, a hesitant exploration that quickly deepened as he responded. His hands found their way to your face, cradling it gently as he pulled you in, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Fuck- if you kiss me like that I might take you right here again” Hongjoong chuckles against your lips. And you giggle in response. However, his expression falls down.

“Y/N… I should tell you that Siwoo has been cheating on you.” Hongjoong sighs as he rests his forehead against yours.

“Who’s Siwoo?” You joke trying to mask your disappointment of him mentioning your now ex. “Y/N, I know I initiated an affair while you are dating him too but, you needed to know.” Hongjoong states in a serious tone.

“I know, Hongjoong.” You say softly. “I figured after our conversation we had on Friday, when he came over to my house the next day. I guess my naive self chose to ignore it… I messaged him earlier when we got to the car that I’m over with him. I’m no longer his.” You look at Hongjoong as he studies your face.

“So… does this mean you’re mine?” Hongjoong raises an eyebrow. You softly smile and shrug your shoulders. Hongjoong smirks at you and in an instant unbuckles his seat belt and exits the car. He makes his way to the passenger door and opens it. Swiftly, he lifts your body and throws you over his shoulder. You yelp in response and he carries you towards his house.

“You drove us to your house?!” You exclaim as you giggle over his shoulder.

“Let me remind you again who you really belong to” Hongjoong chuckles as he playfully slaps your ass and quickly makes his way through the doors of his home.

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Pt. 2 (updated 10/21)

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Author’s commentary: Should I do a sequel? 👀. I had way more ideas for this story but decided to cut it short LOLLL. Anyways, I hope yall enjoy😝 feel free to fangirl in my comment section/ ask box🤭.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

No one's really surprised to see famous rockstar Eddie Munson show up to the 2024 Paris Olympics. His close friendship with three-time medalist gymnast Chrissy Cunningham had the press working over time when the pair were first spotted six years ago leaving a fundraising event.

However, no one can seem to figure out why- in Chrissy's down time- the metal head is frequently spotted at the men's swimming events. Everyone knows Munson's queer, but he's not the type to show up just to oggle some poor, unsuspecting athletes (he is, but the press don't need to know he's a bit of a freak).

Prime time news coverage chock it up to Eddie supporting the best of the USA's Olympians, including Steve Harrington, who just broke the world record for men's fastest 100m freestyle. They'd pointed out it wasn't odd he was there, since he also made appearances at other events with up and coming stars, such as Lucas Sinclair for men's basketball and Nancy Wheeler for women's skeet shooting. When asked about it, he'd laughed it off, saying swimming was Chrissy's favorite sport to watch and he promised he'd fill her in on what she missed.

That didn't stop fans online from obsessing over small details, including Eddie's repeat appearances at the swimming events, where he only showed once for anything else that wasn't Chrissy's competitions. There was no way he could keep Chrissy filled in on what she missed when he only showed up to meets Harrington competed in, not all men's swimming events.

Fan edits of Eddie Munson clapping a little too hard, screaming a little too loud, and overall just a little bit more excited for Harrington's podium than Chrissy's gold medal spread across the internet like wildfire. One blurry shot caught Harrington briefly look in his direction when he won his silver, but it was hard to be certain.

Tucked into bed after another long day of interviews, Eddie pulls up a few of the best fan edits Jeff and Gareth sent him earlier. It's become a bit of a habit over the past few weeks to watch his favorite ones before he goes to sleep. He feels the bed dip next to him, a warm hand slide over his chest and a leg push between his own.

"Aww babe," Steve coos, "did we get new ones today?"

Eddie leans down, dropping little kisses on his husband's forehead. "Apparently Jeff says these ones are even more convincing than last week's."

Steve hums a content little sigh before nuzzling into the crook of Eddie's neck. They've been riskier about public appearances this time around compared to Tokyo, but they've agreed to publicly come out after this year's games are over. So, why not have a little fun with it?

They release a fan edit of their own later that year posted on the official Corroded Coffin profile. It's a reaction video of them watching all of their favorite tiktoks and fanart and Tumblr posts. They laugh, point out inaccuracies, answer fan questions, and post a few pictures of their own, including the two of them standing under an arch of flowers exchanging rings.

[genshin-obsessed]

Helloooo~!! Could I request the men in honkai star rail with an s/o who makes various different plushies for themselves and the men?

Just imagine Dan Heng getting a chonky dragon plushie version of himself.

✩ ‒ You guys have the most creative ideas sometimes lmao I would’ve never thought of this and it is such a cute idea!!

✩ ‒ I wasn't going to do everyone but they came out really short so I made it up by adding more characters ^w^

✩ ‒ Characters: Caelus, Dan Heng, Welt, Gepard, Sampo, Luocha, Jing Yuan, Blade

✩ ‒ Caelus

He’s not the biggest plushie guy out there, but come on. You made it so cute and all.

He keeps it safe in his room and does a pretty good job at keeping it clean. Like dust free and all.

Caelus isn’t ashamed of it by any means, everyone knows about it. He just doesn’t want to end up tearing it or something which is why it's always in his room.

Big fan. You made a couple of yourself and he keeps them together. They're together like the two of you are. He’s debating on getting a dedicated shelf.

✩ ‒ Dan Heng

He originally received two. One of his normal self and then his Vidyadhara half. It’s so accurate, too. He definitely spent a few hours analyzing them both.

He wasn’t sure at first but the longer he had it, the more he began to like it. He kinda sleeps with it now. I mean... they're just on his bed and that's where he sleeps...

You’re welcome to make more but he doesn’t have room to place them. Besides… how many could you possibly make?

He actually likes the little dragon one. It’s so cute, the details are well done, and you seem to really like it too.

✩ ‒ Welt

Aww, a plushie for him? It was so cute! It even had his lil cane and all. Honestly, Welt loves it.

He keeps it with him all the time. When you often go off on missions, he likes to hold it for comfort.

When you made one of yourself, he decided the plushies could never be separated- much like you two. So, basically now he carries two plushies with him at all times.

Pom Pom and Himeko gush over the cuteness of the plushie. You’re really talented, why not start a business at this point? You'll definitely get March or Stelle asking for one too.

✩ ‒ Gepard

He was confused at first. Why did you make a plushie of him? But he really liked it. You even got the shield right.

He prefers it to stay at home where his fellow guards can’t see it because it’s a little embarrassing. He’s a grown man and all.

Ok, but it’s so cute. The little hair, the outfit- the shield! Come on? How is he supposed to remain composed? He will stare at it sadly when he has to go to work.

He had to admit, when you made one of yourself it felt complete. The plushies are always sitting together on his bed. Sometimes, he'll even put a blanket over them to keep them warm.

✩ ‒ Sampo

Omg once he gets one, it's on his person permanently. He loves seeing you work on them, too. It gives him a perspective on how much work you put into them

He’ll give suggestions all the time and you do make most of them. You often make yourself as well and it leads to lots of matching plushies.

Sampo did try to make one himself but it looked horrendous. He tried to throw it away but you wouldn’t let him!

That thing haunts his dreams but you like it for whatever reason. Honestly, Sampo takes that thing everywhere and even learned how to wash it properly.

✩ ‒ Luocha

The accuracy. His hair, eyes, outfit, the coffin- it even opens! Like, the effort that went into that was phenomenal.

Luocha is a big fan and does keep the plushie with him during his travels but keeps it hidden. It's something that reminds him of you (ironic since it looks like him).

He’s rather protective of the plushie. Someone once tried to take it and well… he almost stuffed them in the coffin. Lmao jk.

… ok, he did it once and never again, you can’t judge him, that’s his plushie. You gave it to him, not that rando. And no, it wasn't a kid! Why do people keep asking him that?

✩ ‒ Jing Yuan

Mind blown. Seriously, the talent that took was incredible! You even made a Lightning Lord plushie which attaches to the Jing Yuan one.

He keeps them on his desk at work and no one is allowed to touch them. He's worried others might damage them, but he wants to show them off at the same time.

He keeps the one you made of yourself with him though. It’s his good luck charm. Much like you.

Secretly hates tearing apart the plushie version of you and him. Heartbreaking when they have to see each other go. Sniff.

✩ ‒ Blade

Ok, listen. This is Blade we’re talking about. He can’t just be seen carrying a plushie- and of himself, no less. It’s embarrassing.

Is what he thought until he saw how sad you got when you found out he left it in a drawer. On the pain in his heart…

Now he keeps it on his person all the time. He even learned how to wash it because it’ll get dirty sometimes. No blood gets on it though, don't worry. Just some minor dirt or something.

For tougher missions, he puts the plushie in a plastic bag to keep it safe. It’s like a good luck charm of his. He lost it once and he almost had a heart attack.

[wheneverfeasible]

Bullshit (part 2/3)

Continuation “fix it” of this ficlet where Steve changed himself to try to earn Eddie’s love.

Steve missed his polos.

He missed his light wash jeans, his music, watching his favorite movies, he even missed his stupid plaid walls.

Eddie had laughed at them the first time he’d been in Steve’s room, back before they’d even started dating. Technically they were still there, they were just covered up with posters of bands Steve only knew about because his boyfriend liked them. Eddie had teasingly gifted him a Black Sabbath one back when they had just been friends to give his room more “personality” instead of his mostly undecorated room, which…okay, fair, because Steve had admittedly not done much of it himself just because he couldn’t be bothered.

(And he did, actually, kind of like the poster because it was their own little inside joke. It made him smile when he saw it, even to this day, even if he thought he could still taste the damned demobat sometimes.)

It wasn’t like he really knew much of who he was to begin with. He still had the bowling pin he and Tommy had stolen from the bowling lane their sophomore year (Steve’s idea, though only to impress his friend), and the picture of the car he had bought on a whim because Tommy had said he wanted a car just like it. Any other knickknack had either been gifted or purchased for a similar intent.

Now, that car picture was collecting dust in his closet, replaced by the Black Sabbath poster that Eddie had pinned to the wall slightly askew for ‘aesthetics,’ though it being slightly off-center and at an angle made Steve a little itchy. Soon, however, other posters soon followed, some given to him by Eddie and some he purchased himself after learning what bands Eddie liked, with a large Dio one taking up space by his bed.

Flyers of Corroded Coffin shows or other band merch dotted around the room as well, which he didn’t really mind because he liked supporting his boyfriend, though the clutter and disorganization slightly bothered him. Eddie had grinned at the sight however and called him a ‘real boy now’ for looking like the room of a young man and not a ‘30-something corporate stooge,’ so that would have to be fine too.

But he still missed his room looking like his room, instead of a replica of Eddie’s. It made Eddie feel more comfortable however, so he tried not to think about how it wasn’t his aesthetic at all, because he could learn to like it. He could change for the better. He could be what Eddie wanted. He could be good enough.

Which was why he was confused, staring at the garment box on the kitchen table where he’d been circling car ads in the classifieds, trying to find something cooler than his bimmer. Eddie had come over with a wide grin, sliding a box he recognized from one of the department stores he used to shop at before dating Eddie.

Eddie had proffered it with a flourish, grinning expectantly, practically vibrating with anticipation as Steve had carefully lifted the lid and moved the tissue paper aside to reveal the piece of clothing inside. A polo shirt in a soft, buttery sort of yellow with thick vertical white stripes running vertical over it.

Steve looked up at Eddie with a furrowed brow. “I…you got me a polo?” he questioned, confused and also concerned, knowing the department store was definitely outside of Eddie’s usual price range.

“Yeah!” Eddie confirmed happily, moving to sit in the chair next to Steve, looking down at the soft material Steve had yet to pull from the box. “The check from the gig came through, and I remember you looking at this shirt a couple weeks ago. I’ve been waiting to be buy it ever since.”

Steve blinked at that. He hadn’t known Eddie had caught him admiring the shirt in the window while he and Eddie had been walking around downtown. He felt a flair of panic at the thought, annoyed at himself for slipping up, for reminding Eddie that he was a stupid preppy rich kid. Eddie didn’t look upset though, or at least…he hadn’t. Now his eyes were darting over Steve’s expression with growing worry, chewing on his lower lip.

“Is that…is that all right? Was it a different one you wanted? I-I still have the receipt, we can return it and get the one you wanted,” Eddie rushed to say.

“No,” Steve quickly said, his fingers of one hand tightening slightly on the box while his other reached out of their own accord to slightly touch the shirt within. “I…Eddie,” he breathed, not knowing what else to say, what this meant. Why would Eddie buy him something like this? “You shouldn’t waste your hard earned money on…something like this.” Shouldn’t waste your money on me, he wanted to say. “It’s your first paying gig.”

Eddie shook his head quickly, an almost embarrassed smile curling his lips with a slight blush. “I wanted to, Stevie. You always buy me things, I wanted to return the favor. You’ve been so supportive of me and I wanted to…I don’t know. Thank you.” He glanced down at the polo with a soft expression, though he did frown a little too afterwards. “I haven’t seen you wear your polos in a really long time,” he murmured quietly.

Steve tensed at Eddie’s words. Of course he hadn’t. Polos weren’t cool. Polos weren’t good enough for Eddie. It was why he was so confused at this gift. He didn’t understand why Eddie would buy him something that wasn’t metal. That wasn’t suitable for his boyfriend.

“I know that you’re experimenting with your style and all, and I won’t deny you’re hot as fuck in these,” Eddie grinned, moving to pinch the loose sleeve of Steve’s tee between his fingers. It was from some band he didn’t actually know before he’d bought the shirt, something called Leatherwolf, though he had bought their tape as well so that he could pretend to be a fan and know some of their songs. “But you look hot in your polos too. I miss them.”

Steve sat up straighter at that, his eyebrows flying up in surprise. Eddie…liked his polos? “Aren’t the polos…kind of lame?” he asked carefully.

Eddie snorted, smiling as he leaned in to press a kiss to Steve’s neck, causing a startled smile to erupt over Steve’s own lips as he squirmed at the slight tickle of Eddie’s lips and hair. “There’s nothing lame about you, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured, voice roughened with his tease. He pulled back though, a touch of his worry on his expression again. “Do you like it?”

Of course Steve liked it. He loved it. It was exactly the one he had been looking at before, even though he’d tried to hide it, which meant that Eddie really had noticed it and really had been waiting to buy it for him. With his first paycheck from Corroded Coffin’s first real paying gig.

There had been the fear that Eddie’s involvement with the band would limit their options, that no one would want to listen to a band that had a member who was suspected of grisly murders. Eddie had been prepared to step down, to let the others move on without him, had offered it even though Jeff and the others had vehemently opposed the idea. They’d said that Corroded Coffin wouldn’t exist without Eddie and if he wasn’t part of it then they didn’t want to do it anymore.

In a surprise twist that probably shouldn’t have been all that surprising, Eddie’s infamy had actually helped the band. The news of his believed guilt and then later innocence and injury from the actual killer that he had tried to stop had spread even beyond Hawkins, drawing a crowd for their nights performing at The Hideout who began to see more patrons than ever before.

Then they’d been invited to participate in a Battle of the Bands, which they hadn’t won but they’d placed second, and the random shows they’d throw themselves at the quarry or wherever else saw larger crowds than usual, even the one they threw to celebrate Gareth graduating, and they’d even been asked to play at the fair, though it was a free gig.

Then, most recently, someone had approached them after one of their shows and asked to hire them for an event in Indianapolis. A paying event in Indianapolis. With it was the promise of possible future paying gigs as their fanbase grew and spread. There was even talk of a possible scout being at the gig.

Dustin had joked that maybe ‘86 hadn’t been his year, but ‘88 could be, though Eddie had just grinned and denied it, saying that ‘86 had been his year after all. He hadn’t said why, but he gave Steve a secretive smile and reached out to tangle their fingers together.

Steve felt a flare of warmth beneath his skin as he stared down at the polo again, hesitating before giving a brief nod. Eddie’s previously nervous smile bloomed into a joyous one, and he leaned in quickly to plant a smacking kiss to Steve’s cheek. Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t prevent his own smile from growing on his lips.

“Thank you, baby,” Steve murmured, sliding a hand over Eddie’s neck to draw him in for a slow kiss. He didn’t know what it meant still, Eddie buying him a polo of all things, but it made him more determined than ever to be good enough for his boyfriend.

When they pulled back, Eddie soft with happiness, Steve made the decision. He needed to go all in if he was to keep Eddie happy. He drew in a deep breath and moved to take Eddie’s hand, his finger lightly tracing one of the scars there.

“I was thinking of growing out my hair. Maybe even dying it. Or maybe shaving i—”

“Don’t you dare!” Eddie interrupted, expression and tone absolutely scandalized as he squeezed Steve’s hand. Steve jumped slightly at the sudden explosion, blinking wide eyes at Eddie, causing the other to flush slightly in embarrassment. “I mean. You can, obviously, if you really want to, it’s your hair after all, but…” Eddie let out a small whine of protest as his gaze moved up to take in Steve’s hair.

Steve self-consciously reached up with his free hand to pass his fingers through his hair, which wasn’t quite as voluminous as he used to style it, but was still the last real testament of his former style. His former personality. The bullshit one.

“I mean,” Steve hedged, glancing away with a small roll of a shoulder in an aborted shrug. “It’s not exactly metal is it?” He looked back at Eddie with a slightly strained smile, rolling his eyes as though in commiseration. “I don’t want to embarrass you by making people think you have a prep for a boyfriend,” he laughed.

Eddie’s expression changed immediately as he stilled almost unnaturally, falling into a blank neutrality, even his eyes shuttering as he slowly pulled his hand from Steve’s grip. The response caused Steve to start panicking, worrying he’d messed up in some way, that he reminded Eddie of all the ways that he was lacking.

Steve opened his mouth to start apologizing, ready to apologize for anything, but Eddie held up his hand palm out to stop him, causing Steve’s mouth to shut with a soft click of teeth.

Eddie’s gaze dropped from Steve as his brows slowly began to furrow, a calculating expression settling over him as his eyes fell to the soft yellow polo still in the box. His lips twisted into a frown. After several excruciating moments, his eyes moved towards Steve’s shirt, an even more pinched look settling over his expression.

“Who are you wearing?” Eddie asked, his voice low and slow.

Steve glanced down at his shirt, the panic in him spiking, before realizing that this was a test. He had to prove to Eddie that he could like metal too (he didn’t, not really, though he could appreciate some of it) and wouldn’t be an embarrassment. He could do this.

“Leatherwolf,” he answered, thankful that he had done his job well enough to answer this pop quiz. He straightened his spine and pulled up the information he memorized with a slightly relieved smile. He could do this. “They’re from California. They were founded in, um, 1981.”

“What’s your favorite song of theirs?” Eddie asked, and there was something slightly off in his tone, but Steve couldn’t place it, not when he was frantically trying to recall the titles of the songs he’d made himself remember.

“Um. Cry Out?” he hesitantly asked more than answered, which caused Eddie’s lips to press into a thin line. He felt his breath catch at the obvious displeasure on Eddie’s face, wondering if he’d answered wrong. Was that a bad song? “O-or no, um, not that one. Uh. I like…um. I like…Magic Eye?” Fuck no, that wasn’t right. “Magical Eyes, I mean,” he corrected himself hastily.

Eddie’s eyes slowly dragged over Steve, his lips compressing again into a thin line as he drew in his own deep breath through flared nostrils. “Fuck,” he muttered, obviously not meant for Steve but it caused Steve to panic anyways as Eddie looked away, his brow furrowing in thought as his gaze settled on the newspaper on the table and the circled ads there.

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologized, though he wasn’t certain what he had done wrong this time. Maybe Eddie didn’t like that band?

“Steve…” Eddie heaved a heavy sigh, rubbing his hand over his face before he looked over at Steve again. “I had thought you were just…trying things out. Experimenting. Lord knows your folks never let you be your own person,” he muttered before waving a hand as though to swat that thought away. “I didn’t realize you were actually trying to change.”

Why did Eddie sound so appalled by that? Wasn’t that a good thing? He was willing to fundamentally change who he was just for Eddie, to become someone deserving of Eddie, who fit in Eddie’s life. Didn’t Eddie want Steve in his life?

“Why are you upset about me changing?” Steve huffed, his worry turning into annoyance in his tone. “I thought that was a good thing. Not being the douchebag I used to be.” He scowled, crossing his arms with a roll of his eyes to cover his unease.

Eddie just looked at him in that way that made it seem like he was seeing inside Steve, which normally Steve liked because no one ever actually saw him, but now it just made him uncomfortable. Like he had done something wrong. He was just trying to be a good boyfriend, however. Besides, it’s not like he had come up with the plan on his own.

Everyone always talked about how different he and Eddie were. Always pointed out how preppy he was, made fun of Eddie for falling for a jock, had even asked at the start when they first came out publicly to their friends who was blackmailing whom into the relationship. Steve knew he had to change. They were too fundamentally different. It was the only way to keep Eddie.

Except Eddie didn’t look like he was going to be kept. He had started slowly shaking his head, pulling back, his eyes skittering over Steve again but in a way that said he wasn’t liking what he was saying. Steve’s panic spiked again.

“Eddie. This is good. I’m willing to change for you, that’s how much I love you,” Steve breathed, reaching out to grab Eddie’s hand with desperation. “I listen to your music now, and I play Dungeons and Dragons, and I don’t even talk about basketball around you anymore. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy. Don’t you see? Isn’t that all that matters?”

Eddie’s lips turned down into a sharp frown. A shuddering breath left him before he all but yanked his hand from Steve’s, his dark eyes turning even darker as he pulled away from Steve and said those damning words:

“But I’m not happy, Steve.”

Steve felt all the air leave his lungs, felt all the blood first rush to his head and then drain out of him, felt his mouth and tongue and throat shrivel into dryness as his eyes widened in horror. Eddie was shaking his head, stumbling out of his chair and back, an unreadable expression on his face as he distanced himself from Steve and this revelation.

“This wasn’t what I wanted, Steve. This doesn’t make me happy.” Eddie’s took another step back when Steve stumbled from his own chair, putting the table between them. “I…I need to go. I need to think.”

Steve knew with certainty that if he let Eddie leave now, that this thing between them would never be the same. His heart clenched in his chest painfully, and he felt his eyes sting with encroaching tears. “Eddie, please…” he begged, his words cracking.

Eddie only shook his head, sending his hair arcing around him, before straightening his spine. “This isn’t you. I don’t want this to be you. I love you Steve, but this version of you? The one that I created—” This time it was Eddie’s voice that cracked.

Clearing his throat, Eddie backed away. “No. No, this isn’t what I wanted. I’m sorry, Steve, but I need to go. I need to think. I can’t be here right now. I’m sorry.”

And with that, Eddie spun on his heels and all but ran towards the door, escaping from Steve’s incompetence, his unworthiness, his undesirability while Steve could only stand there in frozen horror, the tears he couldn’t hold back any longer slowly dripping down his cheeks.

Because he knew. He knew this would happen. He knew that no matter what he did, he would never be good enough. He knew that Eddie would leave him one day. Knew that he would never be able to keep the one he loved.

Knew that he, like his love, would always be complete and utter bullshit.

-

Part 3

-

tag list: @derythcorvinus @katyawriteswhump

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Ex Step “Kids” x Reader

Where the man you're dating and soon to marry have their reservations about you. Considering you're closer to their age and their father has millions in his name...

Thinking about the Step-family in question being adults; well established and acting on their own from their aging father

Unknowingly letting him fall prey to you 

Walking Temptation with a hunger for deep pockets and a smile innocent enough to make anyone swoon

It’s a shock when the next time they see their dad for the holidays he’s got you on his arm

Just a little bit older than them (half his age) and with a giant engagement ring on your finger

“You like it? Your dad got it for me when we were in Dubai!” 

“Uh Dad can I have a word? Alone?”

Taniya, his eldest is the hardest to grill you

Being incredibly open with her suspicions about you

And she’s the most vigilant when it comes to reprimanding her father for spoiling you

“Dad think about it (Y/n) doesn’t need another sports car! You’ve already gotten them two!”

In no uncertain terms, you’re sure Taniya hates your guts

If the way all the restaurants your future husband has worked with for some reason can’t serve you has anything to say about it, that’s likely the case

But you don’t mind!

That way you can take your man to the best place to get croquettes

Yeah it’s sketchy but that’s what his bodyguards are for

The second worst is his youngest, Titan

Classic attention-hungry influencer son who thinks pranks on you are going viral because everyone enjoys your misery as much as he does

“Your misery” is the curious tilt of your head when you find the leather seats of your range rover decorated with glitter 

Doesn’t really bother you though, so you’ll show off your new interior to all your new followers on socials 

Wonder where they came from

Finally the middle son Tariq always forgotten but not quite estranged doesn’t seem to dislike you too much

After all, he did start coming around the villa more since you’ve moved in

“Oh hey (Y/n) I heard those flowers my dad got you went missing, it just so happens to work out that I brought you some.”

“Those are my favorites! How did you know?”

“Lucky guess. Anyway, I heard you got the latest VR tech, want to show me how it works?”

For a while you fall into a cycle with your fiance and his family

Eventually tying the knot in a luxurious venue in front of hundreds of masked billionaires

Of course, all your older husband’s kids decide to be civil

And all is well…until it isn’t

All too soon are the siblings gathered again when their father dies two weeks later

It’s all so sudden

With heavy hearts, their knowledge of his decline makes it better for the siblings to take on the funeral preparations

Begrudgingly Taniya takes it upon herself to try getting the funds from you, coming to the Villa prepared to argue

Instead, she’s met with one of her father’s most loyal bodyguards

Woefully opening the door

“(Y/n) has been too distraught to leave their bed since the…last hospital visit.”

“What?”

She would have expected someone like you to have been jumping for joy

Having tied the knot with a man who’d pay for any tuition you might’ve needed paid Taniya doubts it she expected you’d be as bubbly as others in your…profession

But instead of partying you were glued to the giant California bed clutching an old shirt of his

For once Taniya feels bad for you

“Uh hey (Y/n) I was wondering if you maybe wanted to come to the first meeting with the mortuary staff. We’re looking to pick a coffin and–”

Instead of something snarky or even an agreement, you throw a black card in her direction and pull the covers over your head

Barely smothering the crying sounds

“You know what? Maybe it might be best if I stay back here..with you.”

It’s all too easy for her to lend her shoulder as you wail about your late husband–her father

Its awkward for awhile and then it’s not

She weirdly looks forward to pulling your tear-stricken face into her chest she wore the v-neck for a reason while you discuss the funeral arrangements

Purposely making her meetings online so she can rub your back off screen

Finding that the lingering security guard–your unofficial butler is getting more and more on her nerves

Taniya doesn’t even realize she’s gotten this bad until she’s hoping the chandelier will fall on her brothers when they eventually show up

“Wow. You two are here. In-person…why didn’t you call?”

“I don’t need your permission to see (Y/n)! But you know I would’ve come sooner if my company wasn’t dealing with a major crisis by some mysterious corporate giant!”

“Don’t look at me, I told you working for a shady company would get you no where.”

“I cannot with you right now–”

“I also came-!”

“Shut up Titan.” “Please Titan we’re talking.”

Titan isn’t all that worried about his old man being dead except his allowance stopped

And technically he shouldn’t be staying in the Villa anymore…but his followers are asking questions

“And in here we have the–whoa crying widow alert!”

“W-what?!”

He gets a lot of hate for that one

And while his siblings circle around you like vultures he’s finding it hard to insincerely apologize so that you can do a follow-up apology video with him

He’s following you around so much and observing all your little quirks 

he worries it might be important when ‘apologizing’ so maybe he should record it…

Thus begins his long and greatly popular series of getting to know my dead dad’s spouse

He records as much as he can–what you eat, how you talk, how you whisper promises to the pictures of his dad you put up

It weirdly makes him question everything

It also has him posting to a new platform…a more hidden one

“Alright, guys! I actually got into their closet without issue we’ve just got to hope they won’t need to come in here anymore. OMG They’re back! I wonder what they’ll do…next. Uhm…sorry chat but I’m going to shut off the camera for awhile….I think this is just for me.”

Unlike Taniya who will hesitate, thinking of her father while cuddling up to you Titan does not think

Because after his copious amounts of stalking streaming with you

He's decided you will be his inheritance from dad

Clearly the old man wasn’t strong enough to handle you

So Titan would be the hero to sweep such a camera worthy beauty off their feet

Tariq doesn’t hesitate either 

he’s gotten over that the day he met you

Sure he misses his dad a lot less than he expected+ but he does miss the privacy he used to have with you

“Hey (Y/n) do you want to go out for a ride like we used to do.”

“Oh Tariq I’d love to but I already told Titan we’d do a muckbang with him.”

“And after that, we’re going to film our feet ASMR!”

“Titan I said I’d need to think about that–”

“What?! You already said no to the hot-tub stream, how much more of a Karen can you be?!”

“Okay okay, but I’d rather it not be live.”

“Duh, I may not ever want to post it.”

Tariq is so tired of everyone else realizing just how much you’re not like any gold-digger he’s ever known

In fact, you’re so bad at it that he doubts you were ever a gold digger in the first place

“Hey Tariq the lawyer had a question about the life insurance money, should I just write you a check or do I keep it? I’m so confused.”

“Wow uh, that’s a lot.”

“Yeah, but your dad always told me what to do with this kind of stuff. So what do I do?”

“Uhh, how about we open our own bank account and put it there!”

“Oooh like a married couple’s bank account?”

“Yeah just like marriage. It’s a little too early to ask right?”

Nonetheless, all three siblings are beginning to realize just how ‘bad’ of a gold digger you are

And they’re more than eager to show you the right way…as long as you change your allegiance to them.

Rules | Kofi | Masterlist

[multific]

Bloodlines and Blessings

Count Orlok x Reader

Warnings: pregnancy

Summary: Love takes root in unexpected ways. A future neither of you could have seen coming when the unimaginable happens.

The castle stood tall within the mountains. A testament of time. 

Inside the castle, amongst its cold stone walls, life had long been absent. Without Count Orlok's immortal presence, the castle would have long been abandoned. 

Yet now, something had changed. 

You were here, and even if you were a mortal, your presence gave warmth to the ancient halls.

Orlok, who had spent centuries alone.

And yet, he found himself drawn to you in ways he could barely understand. 

Your courage, your compassion, your willingness to see past his monstrous visage. He loved you.

One night, as you sat by the great fireplace, he spoke of his dreams. 

“I never imagined I could want for more,” he said, his voice low and hesitant. “My legacy will be terror.”

You reached for his hand, your warmth a stark contrast to his cold. 

“You are not alone anymore, My Love. Your legacy will be whatever you make it. People remember names they feared more than the ones they loved.”

Weeks passed, and your bond deepened, you vowed yourself eternally to him, making you his wife.

Then came the moment that changed everything came with a cold wind. 

You had been feeling unwell, you were unsure what it could possibly be. When you told Orlok, he got extremely concerned. 

He just married you. He cannot lose you already.

And so, together, you looked for answers.

Then one evening, you realised what it was. The truth ran down your spine with a chill but your heart quickened with excitement. 

“A child?” Orlok’s voice trembled, his eyes wide with disbelief. “But how? Such a thing should not be possible.”

“And yet it is. Our love defies all logic, Orlok. Why should this be any different?”

His eyes searched yours, thinking you were telling him a lie so cruel. But he finds no lie, only love.

From that moment on, Orlok was filled with a new purpose. 

He became fiercely protective, ensuring your every need was met. Though he had walked the earth for centuries, he had never felt such hope, and he guarded it with all of his being.

As your pregnancy progressed, you shared such sweet moments. 

One evening, as the two of you sat together in the library, you felt the first flutter of movement within you. 

Gasping, you placed your hand on your belly.

“What is it?” Orlok was instantly on his feet, moving close to you, his eyes full of concern.

You grabbed his hand and placed it on your stomach, letting him feel the faint but unmistakable kick. 

“Can you feel that? He’s moving,” you whispered, tears welling in your eyes. “Our son is alive and well.” You never knew such happiness.

For a moment, Orlok was utterly still. Waiting for another movement to confirm what you are saying. Just to be sure.

And then he felt the unmistakeable kick. 

Then, a rare smile broke across his face. 

“He is strong. Just like his mother.”

During the day, you slept in a comfortable bed, with your husband in his coffin. 

But during the nights when you both woke up, the air was filled with anticipation and pure happiness. 

Orlok would read to you from ancient texts, his deep voice a soothing lullaby for both you and the life growing within you. 

He would trace the curve of your belly with careful fingers, speaking softly to the child. 

“You will know no fear, little one. You will be loved, as I have never known how to love until now.”

But the world beyond the castle was not kind. 

Rumours of your pregnancy spread, reaching the ears of those who desired to destroy what they did not understand. 

Hunters, priests, and mercenaries conspired to end your ungodly union. One fateful night, the castle was surrounded. 

But Orlok was a force of nature, his supernatural strength unmatched as he defended you and your unborn child. 

Orlok fought them off. The smell of blood filled the castle as you hid in your chambers, doors locked, protecting yourself and your child.

The hunters fled in terror as they watched Orlok kill every last one of their friends. 

But they couldn't run far.

The Count's anger was greater than theirs.

All men were dead before the moon even reached the highest point in the sky.

When the danger had passed, Orlok returned to you as he knelt before you, his hands trembling as they rested on your belly.

“You saved us, thank you." you whispered as he pulled you close, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss filled with gratitude and tenderness. 

“I will protect you both, always,” he vowed. “Whatever it takes.”

Months later, the castle was quiet once more, but this time it was a peaceful silence. 

In your arms, you held your son, his tiny hand clutching Orlok’s long finger. 

"He is beautiful," Orlok said. "You gave me the greatest gift. A legacy."

You smiled, still rather exhausted, but you found the strength to stay focused.

The boy had your warmth and Orlok’s piercing eyes, a perfect blend of light and darkness.

The three of you were a family, bound by love that defied the laws of nature.

Outside the cold walls of the castle, the world wept for it had known, that the darkness now had a son. 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[lanabuckybarnes]

Princess Treatment

18+ MINORS DNI

It’s been a few days since Princess had her first punishment from Bucky. She tried to avoid him like the plague whenever she could, but not for the reason he assumed.

Pairing: Bodyguard! Bucky x Brat! (Not so) Reader (Princess)

Warnings: Brat Taming, Masturbation (F), Whipped Princess, Crying, Soft Dom! Buck this time, Fingering, Oral (F), Praise Kink, Slight Overstim, A Lil Angsty, Princess is insecure, AFTERCARE (because it’s important)

Word Count: 1.8k

He scowled as once again, as soon as the doors to her penthouse opened she slinked off to her bedroom, not even bothering to pull off her heels. He’d thought a lot about the other day; he was probably too harsh on her, he should’ve eased her into it but she royally pissed him off with her defiant attitude as he pulled her from the sweaty crowd of drunken adults, she’d even spat in his face, the nail in the coffin.

But he hated the fact she didn’t want to be around him.

He sipped on the amber bourbon, hissing slightly at the expensive burn it caused down his throat before he tucked his lips into his mouth, deep in thought about how to best approach the situation he found himself in.

On the other side of the house, Princess whimpered into a clammy hand as her other ventured under her slicked panties. She’d been so good for him, curling into bed with throbbing want after he pushed her away - she’d tried the morning after to get herself off but there was a heavy weight of guilt that laid on her shoulders, causing her to slip her finger away from herself and finish up in the shower, unsatisfied again.

She was convinced he’d give her what she wanted after the second day. She’d been so sweet to him, making him tea in the morning, ordering him breakfast and even having his suit ironed by her personal maid but by dinner time her hope was wearing thin. Her book lay open on her lap but she’d be lucky to have read even the first paragraph, her eyes too busy gazing at each miniature movement Bucky made, a spike of excitement shooting up her spine each time his pink tongue ran over his plush lower lip, settling into the side of his mouth before slipping back into its place behind his teeth; each bob of his Adam’s apple as his favourite alcohol slipped down his throat.

But he stood with a groan, eyes glancing over at her nonchalantly and a gruff ‘goodnight’ falling from his mouth had that burning fire in her stomach quelled quick. She was becoming increasingly frustrated by the lack of attention he was giving her and began to shut herself away for her own good. Being around him too much was not good for her sanity.

Which led to now.

She’d been out at an event, her daddy couldn’t make it and tasked her with showing her pretty face instead, it was simple work she’d done before, give a couple charming smiles, kiss a couple of cheeks and drink a couple glasses of champagne - that was before the addition of Bucky into her life.

She knew it was for her own safety when he manoeuvred her away from the only set of windows that she could’ve easily been shot at from, but his warm hand scalded her hip as he did it, the fingers squeezing in innocent reassurance but finally being touched by Bucky had her mind going dumb already. He’d continued to move her around with unassuming hands on her body the entire night until she was so sure she wouldn’t make it home in one piece. Thankfully she didn’t lose her marbles until her back connected with the soft sheets of her bed, her dress discarded on the floor and her hand cupping her heated core.

“F-fuck” Her breath hitched as her middle finger swirled slowly around her hard little pearl; its lack of action recently made it much more sensitive to her gentle touch. Her ring finger joined as she spread her legs wider; a guttural moan almost falling unchecked from her mouth but thankfully being suppressed by the soft feathers of her pillow.

She thought of his fingers instead; how rough would he be? Would he circle her clit delicately or would he maintain that rough dominant attitude from a few nights prior and leave her sopping pussy sore with hard spanks. No doubt he’d punish her, fuck her throat again and release all over her face before shoving her away and disappearing into his room, after all, that’s all he wanted, a stupid little girl who’d be at his beck and call, who’d open wide and gag around his length until he was satisfied.

Her free hand hooked around the waistband of her undies, pulling him unceremoniously until they stretched around her thighs before slipping off easily past her knees. She kept up her ministrations, hips bucking up to meet every flick of her fingers, soft moans and pleads of something she knew was unattainable escaping her mouth, her eyes rolling back into her head.

She didn’t even hear the door click open.

Bucky watched the sight in front of him, his princess getting herself off while she chanted his name. He expected himself to be upset at the sight but he felt guilty more than anything; he knew he’d gone too long and it caused her to break his rule. He sat down on the edge of the bed, only after feeling the sinking of the mattress did her eyes shoot open, a frightened gasp ripping from her throat and her hand flying from its spot.

“Oh my - I’m so sorry…I-I tried my best but you weren’t…I waited so long I c-couldn’t hold back” he frowned at just how frantically she apologised, her legs slapping shut, tears welling in her eyes at the thought of her impending punishment. She froze when instead of harsh words his big hand cupped the side of her face, thumb swiping up and escaping tears.

“Shhh it’s ok princess I know, I know, you did so well” he praised, mouth quirking up into a soft, gentle smile.

“Y-you’re not mad?” She stuttered in response.

“Uh-uh angel it’s my fault, was just tryna see how long I could push you but I pushed you too far, I’m sorry baby” She didn’t know how to feel about this Bucky; she enjoyed the soft touches and sweet words but it was such a far cry from the hard dom she’d dealt with before.

“Lemme help you ok princess, you deserve it for lasting so long, you want my help?” His words wobbled slightly at the end, slight hints of insecurity bubbling as he spoke, he wanted so badly to help her but he knew she had every right to tell him to fuck off - but she nodded, wide eyes unblinking and legs falling open.

“My rules are still in place sweet thing” he reminded, hand running soothingly up and down her thigh.

“I want your help Buck please” she gasped when his thick fingers resumed her circling, pressing firmer than she had. She watched him through lidded eyes; the way he took his time unravelling each part of her, his eyes moving from between her legs, up over her tummy to her soft breasts. He cupped one in his hand, thumb circling over the nipple softly eliciting soft whines from her.

“That feel good baby?” He mouthed along from her knee to her mid-thigh, sucking softly before kissing the bruising skin.

“Mhmm…want your fingers in me Buck” she hesitated for a beat, silently hoping it wasn’t too demanding but when his fingers sunk to his knuckles she thanked the heavens for his leniency. He thrust in and curled out, the pads of his fingers hitting that sweet spot every time, juices pooling out around his digits and down the crevice of her cheeks until settling on her sheets. She was dangerously close; his hot breath fanning over her folds not helping at all.

“Want you to tell me when you’re gonna come ok, you gotta ask permission, princess?” His dark eyes flicked up to hers, a chuckle forming on her lips as she nodded her head instead of using her words - she was lucky he was feeling so bad.

An almost pornographic sob left her when his tongue flattened over her hardened nub, vibrating with a growl he let out at her taste.

“Mmm tastes so good angel” he groaned against her, suckling up any sweetness decorating her lips. She was a mess, pussy clenching frantically on his quickening fingers, drool gathering and wetting the pillowcase beneath her head as she ground her body against his face, an image of her sweaty body crawling up the tallest mountain in the world, hands bleeding as she gripped at rocks, feet slipping but she kept going until she finally reached that summit, but something in her brain stopped her from jumping off just yet.

“Mm ohhh Buck I’m close, please gotta come…can I Bucky? Can I come?” She cried, eyes cracking open to look at him pleadingly.

“Come princess, let it go, let it all go for your Bucky” he rambled against her heat, moaning unabashedly as more of her slick sweetness slipped from her clenching hole, being sucked up by his tongue.

She had no idea how long she lay there writhing, orgasm seemingly never-ending. She came to from the feeling of Bucky’s fingers still thrusting weekly into her, helping her through her pleasure.

“Ah s-stop too much” She pushed against his bicep and he relented, pulling his sopping fingers from her winking cavern and cleaning them off in his mouth.

“You did so well for me princess, so fucking good” he lauded, kissing up her neck and jaw before planting his lips on her bitten ones.

“I’m sorry” she sobbed, emotions on full blast because of the assault her shuddering orgasm had on her nerves. He shushed her softly, whispering sweet nothings into her ear, assuring her she had nothing to be sorry for. He pulled her up into his arms, lifting her frame off the bed and carrying her into the en-suite adjoined to her room. He placed her aching body delicately into the warm sudded water he’d prepared in mere minutes.

She’d quietened after he scrubbed her expensive body wash over her body, paying close attention to any stiff knots he felt along the way. She turned to him with something intelligible swirling in her eyes.

“Are you proud of me?” Her voice was weak, raspy from overuse. He almost cooed out loud at the adorable little expression adorning her features, but he could sense something deeper crawling around there too.

“Of course princess, even when you act like a spoiled brat I’m proud of you…you take your punishments so well and you’re always so sweet after” he leaned forward and snatched her lips in his again.

The answer seemed to satisfy her for the time being but he knew it wouldn’t be the end of questions like that. Suddenly that simple bodyguard role for the world's brattiest women was starting to feel more like protecting the most misunderstood woman he’d ever met, and it boiled the pot of possessiveness that had sat cold in Bucky for a long time.

-

I had something else planned to post today but I'm not happy with it so you can have some Princess and Bucky because you have been denied. This was written a while ago and dedicated to the anon in my asks who asked for Princess and Bucky filth months ago 💚

I hope you enjoyed, any likes, reblogs and comments are well appreciated and I’d love any asks telling me your thoughts about these two or anything else that comes to mind. I'm a certified yapaholic.

[beloveds-embrace]

more angst dukedom i beseech you🙏

I gotchu 🫡 cw: implied suicide attempt

John Price had always carried burdens- command, the lives of his men, expectations he never wanted but accepted nonetheless. He bore them all without complaint, because that was what men like him did. They wore their regrets like scars and moved forward, no matter the pain.

But this was different.

There was no strategy, no enemy, no path forward that didn’t feel like wading through a graveyard of his own making.

The enemy was himself. And he had already lost.

The room was too quiet.

You lay in the massive bed, fragile and still, as though the sheets would swallow you whole. Candlelight flickered over your face, highlighting the hollows beneath your eyes, the unnatural stillness of your features. You weren’t asleep, but you weren’t here, not in any meaningful way.

John had seen death before, had buried men with his own hands. But he’d never felt a loss like this. Because you were still breathing. And yet, you were gone.

A part of him had known you were suffering. He had seen the signs, felt the shift in the house, in the way the light had dimmed in your eyes long before your body followed. But he had ignored it. Too busy. Too distracted by his duties. Too used to the idea that you, as a noblewoman, were meant to endure.

He had never stopped to see you.

And now, looking at you- this hollow shell of the woman he had legally sworn to protect- he knew with crushing certainty that he might never be able to bring you back.

His fists clenched at his sides.

The guilt weighed on him, suffocating him, pressing against his ribs. How had he let it come to this?

The doctors said you’d recover. But what was survival if there was nothing left to live for?

He sat beside you, careful, as though one wrong move might shatter what little remained of you. His hand hovered over yours before finally touching it, his calloused fingers brushing against your skin.

You didn’t react. Not even the slightest twitch.

He closed his eyes briefly, whispering, hoarse and broken

“I’m so sorry, Duchess.”

The words were too small, too late, too inadequate for what had been done. But he said them anyway. And he would keep saying them, even if you never heard them.

The manor is silent.

Not the comfortable hush of a home at rest, nor the solemn quiet of a place draped in dignity. No, this silence is heavy, suffocating, thick with something that clings to the skin like damp earth after a burial.

It is a mausoleum now. A grand, gilded coffin filled with ghosts that still breathe, still walk, still whisper their regrets into the very walls, as if stone and wood can grant them absolution.

But the dead do not listen.

And you are dead.

Not in the way the world recognizes, not in the way the priests preach about with their incense and hollow comforts, but in the way that matters. The way that leaves the soul hollowed out and emptied, a once-beating heart now reduced to something that merely functions. The way that makes a woman rise from her sickbed not because she wants to, but because the weight of stillness is unbearable, because even nothingness is preferable to lingering.

So you move.

Because what else is there to do?

The doctor tells you that you can begin walking again, so you do. You do not celebrate this, nor acknowledge the hesitance in his voice, the way he measures his words as though afraid one wrong syllable might shatter you further. He is the family doctor. He had ignored your aches and pains before, but he is still perfect for everyone else, so there is no reason for him to leave.

You simply nod, and then you leave.

No fanfare, no grand proclamation, no shared relief with the servants who dare not meet your eyes, nor the men who have spent too many sleepless nights outside your door, drowning in their own grief.

You pass them all without pause.

Johnny, standing near the stairwell, his mouth parting as if to say something, his hands twitching at his sides, unsure whether to reach for you or let you pass. He says nothing. He does nothing.

Kyle, leaning against the corridor wall, eyes shadowed, his usual confidence stripped raw, his lips pressed into a tight, remorseful line. You do not look at him.

Simon, silent as ever, standing at the threshold of the hall, watching, watching, watching. Always watching. But what good were his eyes when they had never seen you before?

John, waiting at the foot of the stairs, as if he expected you to stop, to say something, to acknowledge him.

You do not.

You step past them as if they are furniture, as if they are just another part of the grand, empty estate that holds no warmth for you. You feel like an unwelcome guest in this house.

Thankfully, they do not follow you.

Perhaps they should. Perhaps once, a long time ago, they would have. But now, there is something in the way you carry yourself- a frigid, unyielding nothingness- that warns them against it.

You do not stop until you reach your office.

It is the one place in this house that still belongs to you, still exists outside of their guilt, their whispered apologies, their feeble, desperate attempts to undo the irreversible.

The papers on your desk are still neatly stacked, left undisturbed as if the very walls themselves had been mourning your absence. The ink in your inkwell has dried, a stark reminder of how much time has passed, how much has been lost.

You sit, you pick up the first document, and then you begin to work.

It is not a statement. It is not an act of rebellion, nor is it an attempt to prove anything to anyone.

It is simply something to do.

A way to fill the hours, to keep your hands moving, to avoid the empty spaces where grief might creep in, where thoughts might fester.

The servants try, at first. They hover, unsure whether to acknowledge you, whether to speak. They bring tea that grows cold on the desk, untouched. They set down meals that go ignored, waiting until you are gone to take them away in silent defeat. They do not try to talk to you anymore.

They understand now; you are done with them.

You are done with all of it.

You are not cruel. You do not snap at them, nor raise your voice, nor offer even a fraction of the coldness they once gave you.

But you don’t speak to them at all.

And in some ways, that is worse.

Because there is nothing they can do to thaw the ice that has settled into your bones, nothing they can say that will undo what has been broken.

There is no… warmth left to give.

[punkrockmlchael]

The Gift that Keeps on Giving

Masterlist | Eddie Munson Masterlist | Corroded Coffin Masterlist

FanBoy!Eddie Munson x Popstar!Fem Reader

(Both Eddie and Reader are 18+)

This fic is for: birthday boy pop-up event by @corrodedcoffinfest ; the prompt is “gift”

Prompt: Gift | Word Count: 8,897 | Rating: E | POV: Eddie | Relationships: Eddie Munson x Popstar!Fem Reader | Content Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Mentions of Weed and Underage Drinking | Tags: Eddie Munson, Fanboy Eddie, Popstar Reader, Concert, Gift, Meet and Greet, Celebrity Crush

Warnings: 18+ mdni, Eddie is lowkey a Pervert with so many thoughts about you, Dirty Talking, Kinda a Fanboy kink if you can call it that? (Mutual between Eddie and Reader), Smut: Oral (Fem and Male Receiving), Fingering, Cum Eating, Protected PinV, afab reader

Synopsis: Eddie was your biggest fan; it started after Gareth decided to drag him to your concert. Now, Eddie just doesn't shut up about you. So, the guys decide to come together and pitch in on an amazing Birthday gift for Eddie. This is based off of this blurb I had written and I had people ask for more of these two (including them actually meeting); so woo! Also this slowly turned into the longest fic I have ever written so, I hope you enjoy!!

Word Count: 8.8k

Two months.

It had been two months since your newest album had been released to the public—copies of the vinyls sat in record stores far and wide while your top song played on every radio station on the top of every hour. 

It had been two whole months of Eddie Munson playing your album every day and night, no matter what he was doing within the four walls of his cluttered bedroom. 

Your pop sound and lyrics were a stark contrast to the usual heavy metal music that would ring through his room as he laid back on his bed, packing a bowl of the latest recommendation from his dealer. He’d play your music in the background while he messed around with his guitar, adding some heavy riffs to the poppy sounds that played from the record player. He’d sit on his bed, hand in his pants with his cock in his fist tightly; he’d stroke himself while your voice filled his ears, edging him closer and closer to release. The sound of your sweet and soft voice played late into the night, always seeming to help him drift off to sleep faster; and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that to anyone that would listen. 

Anyone. 

No, really, the Hellfire boys were so fucking sick of listening to Eddie bring you up in every conversation–during lunch at the cafeteria, between battles at Hellfire campaigns, during a late night smoke session in his van by the lake–it didn’t matter the occasion, your name was always rolling off of his lips like a prayer. It was like he was dating you; he spoke about you so highly and intimately, there was never anything negative spoken about you by that boy.

He was just such a love sick little puppy that thought about you every single minute of his morning, afternoon and evening. And the Hellfire boys always just shared looks and groaned while rolling their eyes when Eddie started talking about you. And Eddie noticed their looks, he noticed their annoyance with him but that didn’t stop him from speaking about you… it had actually gotten to the point where he would join the conversations of the cheerleaders just so he could talk about you and your music. 

You released a new song? He ran to the girls to ask if they had heard it yet before gushing over how good it was because, you never seem to have any songs that suck.

You announced a tour or a show near them? He was telling all the girls that he was going to do anything in his power to make sure he would be at that show, seeing you perform live yet again.

And, let’s be real, all these cheerleaders thought that was funny as hell, but they always allowed Eddie to join their conversations; in fact, some of the cheerleaders went out of their way and started the conversations with him. He was just like them—he was a fanboy at heart and he couldn’t help that you were his current unconventional musical hyper fixation at the moment. 

It had been two whole months of your posters and pictures being placed on his walls, hung up so carefully to ensure that they wouldn’t rip or tear. And, every time the guys came over he was constantly getting attacked and questioned by those pieces of paper. The posters were everywhere, there was one above his bed, there was one above his record player, hell, this motherfucker had one on the ceiling above his bed. You were the last thing he saw before he fell asleep and the first thing he saw when he woke up in the morning, cheesy, right? And, fuck, did the Hellfire boys tease him about that. I mean, it’s not everyday that the stoner Metalhead had pictures of a pop princess on his wall. 

But, could you blame him? You just happened to look oh so good in those posters. 

And his favorite to this day was still the one of you in that short fucking black dress; he made sure that poster was above his record player so he could look at you while sitting on his bed. He just couldn’t help it—that picture didn’t leave anything to the imagination. The way your curves were so full and perfect, god, he wanted to run his hands all over your body, feeling every single curve and divet of your plush skin. The way your cleavage looked like it could pop out of that dress at any moment, god, he wanted to reach out and squeeze your breasts gently, hearing the small moans and whines escape your mouth while he massages them between his hands, thumbs running over your hardened nipples slowly. Eddie just loved that dress on you so much but he desperately wanted to see it on his bedroom floor–preferably in a pile with his own clothes while you were pressed up against him, moaning and groaning his name with each and every thrust he made. 

He had countless thoughts about you since he had first listened to that album and somehow each one seemed worse than the last. 

He knows, he knows–he’s a pervert. You don’t have to tell him twice.

Seriously, though, each thought was worse than the last. He’s imagined you on your knees in front of him, hand wrapping around the base of his cock while taking it in your pretty little mouth. He’s imagined you on your knees on his bed while he's thrusting into you from behind, so deep and fast that you are screaming his name. He’s imagined hovering over you, kissing the soft skin of your neck as he thrusts into you slow and deep, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He’s imagined you on top of him, riding on his cock with your tits bouncing in his face. He’s imagined quickies with you after your shows in the dressing room, directly backstage, in the bathroom. You name it he’s probably thought of it with you. 

Eddie was just so whipped and craved you. Craved to know how you felt, how you smelled, how you tasted, how you sounded… he craved to know every little thing about you; all your little imperfections, quirks, any skeletons you had hidden in your closet. He just craved to know you on such an intimate and personal level. But, sadly, you were just a celebrity crush who didn’t even know he existed. 

At least, until tonight.

Tonight you were back in Hawkins, Indiana for a concert. Tonight, on Eddie Munson’s 19th birthday, you were in Hawkins, Indiana. You were in his hometown for his birthday. God, it was like the stars were aligning to give him the best birthday he’s had in a while, if not ever.

Eddie had purchased his ticket for your show months ago, literally the day they went on sale; he had called Gareth and bought a ticket for both of them (and, Gareth wasn’t entirely thrilled about that, but he knew he had to support his best friend… especially on his birthday). 

He had his ticket, he had his best friend by his side, he knew your new songs front to back; he was beyond ready for your concert.

But, the Hellfire boys had a surprise gift for him. They all knew he had a concert ticket, hell, the entire school knew he had a ticket to your show tonight. But, what he didn’t have was a meet and greet VIP ticket… at least, until Jeff pulled some strings with his dad who worked at the venue you were going to be performing at. 

And, my god, you should have seen the look on Eddie’s face when he opened that gift. At first, he looked at the Hellfire boys with a questionable look, he already had tickets, he didn’t need them. But when he read the words “VIP Meet and Greet Ticket” with your name next to it? Yeah, he screamed. A literal scream left his mouth as he thought about meeting you, talking to you, hugging you. And Gareth shook his head because he knew he’d have to stand next to Eddie the entire time during this Meet and Greet. (But, come on, Gareth was also secretly excited to meet you and see you face to face as well; he was just… not excited to deal with Eddie the whole time…) 

So, now, Eddie stood next to Gareth waiting in the meet and greet line amongst a ton of younger girls and teenage girls that were all gushing to meet you. And Eddie was shaking from head to toe. He was both excited and terrified at the same time. What if you were mean? What if you hated him? What if you were a bitch? What if you aren’t like anything he has pictured you to be? What if everything he has thought about you was actually just something he made up and you weren’t that perfect little angel he has you made out to be?

He’s never met a celebrity before… are you really just a normal person like him? Do you enjoy going to the movies just like he did? Do you enjoy listening to music and getting high just like he did? Do you enjoy pancakes over waffles just like he did? Do you enjoy spending your free time with friends and family just like he did?

“Eddie,” Gareth said, looking at his friend. Eddie snapped out of his thoughts and looked at Gareth, raising an eyebrow. 

“Hm?” He replied, looking at Gareth.

“We’re next,” Gareth said, motioning to the nonexistent line in front of them. Eddie gulped, looking up in front of him. He caught a glimpse of you and your smile and panicked. 

“I can’t do this,” Eddie said, shaking his head. Gareth rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yes, you can. Please, you don’t shut up about her. At least talk to her.” Gareth replied, looking at his friend. “She’s not going to bite you or anything.”

“She might.”

“Next!” The security guard called, looking up Eddie and Gareth. He raised his eyebrow slightly when he saw the two boys but shrugged, allowing them through. The pair walked towards the stage where you were standing in front of a pale pink and purple backdrop with hearts all over it. 

God, why was Eddie’s head spinning? He felt hot. He felt dizzy. He felt like the room was slowly melting away from around him as he stood there, looking at you. It felt like the heavens were opening up and shining down on you as you stood in front of them, glowing like an angel, a goddess, a beautiful princess that he wanted to sweep off your feet with his wit, charm and good looks.

You looked up at Gareth and Eddie and smiled, waving them towards you. “Hi!” You cheered. “Thank you for coming, oh my gosh!” 

God, when you spoke it sounded like a chorus of angels signing around you. Eddie had never been to church, but he felt like he wanted to fall to knees to worship you and sing your praises.

Gareth stepped towards you but Eddie didn’t, he just stood there frozen. He looked you up and down, taking in your appearance. Your hair and makeup were already clearly done for the concert—hair curled perfectly, not even moving as you moved your head side to side, beautiful soft pink eyeshadow with glitter overtop, making you sparkle each time you moved. You were wearing some baggy light blue jeans and a pink crop top that showed off your midriff perfectly. 

God, you were perfect. You were real, you were perfectly real, and you were standing right in front of Eddie, beckoning him towards you with those beautiful and subtle hand motions.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Gareth said softly, stepping closer to you. You smiled at him, opening your arms for a hug. Gareth didn’t decline, he wrapped his arms around you gently before pulling away, looking at Eddie. 

Eddie watched Gareth hug you before he stepped closer, a nervous smile on his face. “Hi,” he spoke softly. 

You opened your arms and Eddie quickly stepped closer, wrapping his arms around your body as he pulled you close to him. Your arms wrapped around him, smiling as you stood there embracing each other. His arms moved down to your waist gently as he held you against his soft and warm body. It felt like it was just you two in the room as you hugged, sparks flying around you like fireworks. He was so happy to be embracing you, to be holding you, and you allowed him to. You allowed him to hug you and hold you as long as he pleased; you didn’t pull away, you didn’t back away, you just hugged him tighter and smiled as he held you close to his body. 

After what felt like ages, Eddie finally pulled away from the hug, looking at you with a goofy and giddy grin on his face. Gareth glanced at Eddie and raised an eyebrow slightly before looking back at you. 

You smiled at them both, “thanks for coming to meet me and hang out!” You giggled, looking at them. “You probably know my name, but I don’t know yours…” You pouted, looking at the two boys in front of you that looked like they were at the wrong concert. Heavy metal band tees on, ripped jeans, boots on their feet; why on earth were they here to listen to you?

“I’m Gareth,” Gareth said softly, nodding with a smile. 

“I’m Eddie, it’s uh, it’s really cool to meet you. I’ve been listening to your music for quite some time and when I saw you were coming today I just had to come see you. Makes for a really cool birthday.” Eddie smiled, watching you. 

“Birthday? Oh my gosh, is today your birthday?” You asked, Eddie nodded slightly.

“Yeah, nineteen. Scary number,” he joked. 

“Our friend got him a meet and greet ticket for his birthday,” Gareth piped in, looking at Eddie. “He’s like, your number one fan.” 

“Oh my gosh, I was your birthday gift? That’s so cool!” You gushed, “thank you for listening to my music and supporting me, really, it means the world to me. I wouldn’t be able to do what I love doing without people like you.” 

“Yeah,” Eddie stuttered out, nodding at you. “Anytime,” he added. 

You smiled, looking at the boys. “Well, can I interest you in a picture together? A signed poster? I have to make sure my number one fan has the best birthday ever.” 

Eddie blushed. You just acknowledged him and called him your number one fan. Fuck. 

“Yeah, that'd be cool,” Eddie smiled, Gareth nodded as well. 

“Perfect, come here and smile for the camera.” You said, motioning towards the boys. They walked to you, standing on either side of you. Gareth stood on your left and Eddie stood on your right. You wrapped your arms around their backs gently and looked at the camera and smiled with the boys. Once the photo was taken you looked at Eddie with a smile. “Want a picture of just the two of us?” You asked. He looked at you nervously. 

“You, uh, you’d do that for me? Can we? Really?” He asked. You nodded. 

“Of course! Consider it a birthday gift from me to you.” 

Gareth took this as a sign to step away, leaving you and Eddie together for your own picture. You wrapped your arms around Eddie’s waist and smiled, leaning closer to him for the picture. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him as a goofy grin appeared on his face.

After the photo was taken you hugged Eddie again, smiling at him. “Happy birthday, Eddie. It was nice to meet you and Gareth,” you said, glancing at Gareth. “I hope you both enjoy the show. I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

“Thanks, princess,” Eddie smiled. Gareth smiled as well, waving at you. The two grabbed their posters and were on their way while you turned towards your next fan here for meet and greet—a little girl and her mom. You were crouching towards the ground to get to the level of the little girl as she ran towards you for a hug. You hugged her tightly and smiled, rocking her back and forth gently. 

Eddie looked back and watched from afar as he left. 

Fuck, did he love you.  

“I’ll be back,” Eddie yelled to Gareth over the noise of the bar. Your concert was over and Eddie was bummed to leave, so Gareth suggested heading to the Hideout for a few drinks to celebrate his birthday. Eddie reluctantly agreed, even though he’d rather be at home right now thinking about you with his pants around his ankles and his hand on his cock, stroking himself in time to your music.

Gareth nodded at Eddie, before going back to his conversation with Jeff. They were having a heated argument about something, but Eddie didn’t really listen to the details because he didn’t really care. That sounded rude, oh well, it was true. All he cared about right now was you. 

“Jack and Coke, please,” Eddie said as he walked up to the bar, away from Gareth and the other boys in the crowd. He grunted as he took a seat in one of the uncomfortable bar stools. The bartender looked up at him and smiled slightly, nodding to get him his drink. “Thanks, Mark,” Eddie added, watching the usual bartender go off to fix his drink. Once the drink was in his hand he raised it slightly, giving a nod to Mark as he began sipping on his drink. He looked around the bar, eyeing his surroundings as he usually did. 

Your concert was over, you had left the stage long ago and were probably a long ways away from Hawkins by now. Why would you stay here longer than you had to? Eddie sighed to himself, finishing the drink in his hand a little too quickly.

He had finally gotten to meet you, to hug you, to smell you. That was weird, yeah, he’s weird, but, did you know you smell like a mixture of roses and strawberries? Like, he was walking through a strawberry field with a bouquet of roses in his hands, on the way to give you said bouquet before falling to his knees to confess his undying love for you. Begging you for a chance to let him love you and hold you for as long as you would let him.

“Mind if I sit here?” A feminine voice rang through his ear on his left side. Eddie didn’t look up, he just nodded, mumbling what sounded like a yes as he stared down at the ice in the glass his hand was wrapped around tightly. “Thanks. Hi, I’ll have a Rum and Coke, please.”

That voice. Eddie knew that voice, he had listened to it everyday for the last two months. Not to mention, he basically drooled over it a few hours prior at the concert.

He stopped, looking up to his left. His eyes widened as he saw you sitting on the barstool next to him. Live and in the flesh.

God, you looked perfect.

Your hair was still holding its curl perfectly while resting against your shoulders, your sparkly stage makeup had been removed from your face leaving a more natural look but, damn, you still looked drop dead gorgeous. Instead of the pale pink sparkly mini skirt and matching top you wore during the concert, you now had the same baggy jeans from the meet and greet and a sweatshirt with your name on it. Wearing your own merchandise, huh? Damn, that’s hot.

You smiled as Mark slid the drink your way, leaving you with a flirty wink. “This one’s on the house, princess,” Mark said and Eddie shot him a glare. 

“Oh, why, thank you.” You replied, grabbing the glass in your hand. You brought it to your lips and smiled, sipping on the drink slowly. You glanced at Eddie, nodding at him with that adorable smile of yours. Fuck. “Hi, uh… Eddie, right?” You asked, remembering him all too well from your Meet and Greet earlier in the night. And, I mean, how could you forget him? Not many others showed up to your show with a Metallica shirt, ripped jeans and chains.

Not many people showed up like that but, damn, did you love it.

“Yeah, uh, hi. Uh, yeah, that’s me… Eddie,” he replied, nodding as he set his empty glass down on the bar, releasing his grip from it. “You, uh, remembered my name?” He asked, turning his body towards you slightly in the bar stool.

You smiled, nodding your head before sipping on your drink. “It's a little hard not to remember the name of my biggest fan.” You murmured, setting your drink down on the bar. “How was the show?”

“It was amazing, really good, actually. You always seem to kill it on stage…” Eddie said softly, taking in your appearance yet again. He just couldn't believe you were here in the Hideout and sitting right next to him. He was so scared that he was going to embarrass himself in front of you and ruin any chance he may have with you. Because, he totally believes he has a chance with you, yeah. “What, uh, what are you doing here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m really glad you’re here and sitting next to me but… I kind of figured you’d be on a tour bus driving as far away from Hawkins as possible right now. You know, getting ready for the next concert of your tour.” He rambled on, stopping at the end to take a breath.

You giggled softly, turning your body towards him. Your left elbow rested on the bar, your chin resting on your palm as a smile appeared on your face. “Why, thank you. I already said it once but, thank you for coming to my show tonight, it means alot. And, I don’t know; I don’t have another show for a couple days so I decided to stay in town for a bit… is that not a good idea? Is it not too fun here in Hawkins?” Your right hand reached for your drink, taking a couple sips as Eddie shrugged.

“Hawkins really isn’t that fun,” he admitted, smiling at the way you gave your full attention to him. Fuck. “But, I don’t know, with a gorgeous girl like you floating around… it might get better.” He smiled, leaning a little closer to you. You blushed softly, smiling at him. You finished your drink and set the glass on the bar. 

“Yeah? Is that so?” You asked, looking at Eddie again. You were able to actually take your time looking at him now, unlike earlier. Pretty brown doe eyes, beautiful yet nervous smile, long and shaggy curls that fell into his face a bit until he repositioned his head. 

“Absolutely. You might make it worth staying here,” he nodded. You smiled again, looking up at Mark as he came over towards you two, asking about drinks. 

“Yeah, I’ll take another Rum and Coke. And a drink here for my friend, Eddie, as well please.” Mark nodded at your words before walking off to make you and Eddie both another drink.  

“Woah, you don’t need to buy me a drink, princess. I’ll survive.”

“Actually, I do. Consider it a birthday gift,” you smiled, looking at Eddie with that stupid perfect grin on your face. “Speaking of, how was your birthday?” You asked, “I’ll have to admit, I’m still feeling slightly honored that you decided to spend your birthday with me.” 

“You already gave me a birthday gift today,” he argued, referring to the solo picture of the two of you from earlier. “But, my birthday was perfect. Actually, I didn’t think it could get better but, somehow, with you next to me… it’s definitely going to go down in history as the best birthday I’ve ever had.” Eddie replied, smiling widely at you. “Not everyday you get to spend your day with your favorite popstar, you know?”

“Oh, I’m your favorite popstar, huh?” You giggled, leaning closer to him. Fuck, that giggle. 

“Well, you’re definitely up there on my list.” Eddie smiled, a chuckle escaping his lips. Mark walked back over and set the drinks down on the bar before he walked away again. You both reached for your glasses, taking them in your hands. 

“Well,” you said, raising your glass. “Happy birthday, Eddie. And, cheers to many more for you.” You and Eddie clinked your glasses together before taking a sip out of them. 

“Thank you,” he replied, nodding. “Make it a note to come to Hawkins on my birthday every year?” He teased. 

“I'll see what I can do,” you responded with a flirty wink.

“You better,” Eddie replied with a goofy smile. You sipped on your drink more, smiling as you looked around the small bar.

“This place is cool,” you commented, looking back at Eddie. “And, you hate Hawkins?” He smiled.

“Not that I hate Hawkins,” he said softly. “More so that it’s a little… boring. Not much really happens here.” He added, shrugging. He watched you with a smile on his face as you continued to look around the bar, your eyes catching the stage in the corner.

“Is that a stage?” You asked, motioning towards the corner as you sipped on your drink. Eddie’s gaze followed your and he nodded, smiling as he took another sip of his drink.

“Oh, yeah! Tons of local bands play there every week, including mine. We play here every Tuesday night.”

“Woah, you're in a band?” You asked, suddenly a bit more interested in the boy sitting next to you. 

“Yeah,” he smiled, blushing slightly as you took more interest in him. “It’s, uh, it’s called Corroded Coffin; we play some more heavy metal sounds. I’m a guitarist and lead singer in it…” Eddied replied, nodding at you.

“Corroded Coffin, huh? Sounds cool,” you giggled, finishing your drink. You set the empty glass on the bar and looked at him, “heavy metal, huh? What makes me stand out so much that you listen to my silly little pop music then?” 

Eddie chuckled nervously, finishing his drink as well. “Well, you’re very pretty, you have an amazing voice and I do have a soft spot in my heart for pop music.” He replied, setting his empty glass down next to yours. “Guilty pleasure music, I guess you can say…”

“Well, I’m honored to be part of your guilty pleasure music.” You smiled, looking at him. “Oh, and I’d absolutely love to see and hear some Corroded Coffin songs, if you’ll show me, that is. I actually do enjoy listening to a heavier metal sound from time to time.” Eddie blushed, looking at you shocked.

“You listen to heavy metal?”

“Yeah,” you giggled. “It’s funny, I make pop music but I tend to not listen to that in my free time, actually.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, smiling slightly as he learned more about you. “Huh. It appears there is a lot that I don’t know about you, pop princess.”

“Yeah, I get that alot,” you nodded. “So, you play guitar, huh? That’s a skill I wish I had, I’ve been pushing myself to learn but, I just have very little motivation.” You admitted softly.

“I could teach you,” Eddie suggested, looking at you with a goofy smile. “If you want me to, at least…” 

“I think I would love that, Eddie,” you giggled, looking at him. 

He smiled at your giggle, looking at you. “You’re really pretty,” he said softly, looking at you. You blushed, smiling softly.

“You’re not so bad yourself, you know that Mr. Metalhead?” You replied, causing Eddie’s cheek to turn a slight shade of pink.

And with that you were both leaning closer to each other, eyes glancing at each other’s lips as you moved closer and closer together. Time stopped. Eddie’s ears were ringing and he felt like he was vibrating. You were so close to him, so close. He could see the small freckles on your cheeks, wanting to connect them all like little constellations. He could see the tiny baby hairs that didn’t want to stay down no matter how much hairspray you used, wanting to push them back and play with them gently. He could see the small scar that sat on your forehead from when you face planted on stage one night. He could see everything, and you were so beautiful. 

You smiled your little smile, tilting your head to the side as your lips pressed against his softly. Eddie sighed, the feeling of your lips against his enough to make him weak in the knees. He moved his lips against yours, kissing you back softly as his hand moved to the side of your face. He held your cheek, caressing it even, as his thumb ran along the smooth skin. Your hand moved towards his face as well, pulling him closer during the kiss.

He suddenly forgot where he was. All the noises of the bar around; the clinking of glasses, the yelling of partiers, the sounds of men hitting on women… it was all gone. There was no one else in the room. 

It was just you and him. The way it was meant to be—the way he wanted it. The way he dreamed it would be for the rest of his life; you and him against the world. 

Eddie felt like he was dreaming. Or, he died and went to heaven. He wasn’t entirely sure which was true but he was counting his blessings, and mentally thanking Jeff for those meet and greet tickets because; fuck. That gift just keeps on giving. Literally. 

He wasn’t sure how, he wasn’t sure why, but, he didn’t fucking care about the logistics of all of this.

All Eddie cared about was the feeling of your lips on his neck as he struggled with his keys to the front door of the trailer. That, and the fact that his uncle wasn’t home, otherwise this would be awkward.

He finally got his key in the lock and turned it, pushing the door open. He stumbled inside the trailer, pulling you with him. He kicked the front door shut behind you both and led you to his bedroom, pinning you up against the back of the door. 

“God, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, lips crashing into yours desperately. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, pulling him in closer as you kissed him back, your lips moving against his with the same desperate want and need. 

“Yeah, I get that a lot,” you replied, fingers moving through his curls gently. He groaned, his hands finding your hips. He pushed his hips against yours, grinding against you slightly. A slight moan left your lips as your eyes closed and your head fell back against the door. “Fuck, Eddie,” you sighed.

He moaned a little too loudly when he heard you say his name like that, a literal pitiful moan left his mouth as he kissed down your jawline to your neck. He attacked your neck with kisses and nips, his hips still moving against yours with a slow rhythm. “God, princess, you sound so good saying my name like that,” he mumbled, biting down on your neck a little rougher. ”You don’t know how bad I want you.”

You whined at the bite, eyes opening to look down at Eddie. Your fingers ran through his curls, tugging them gently before you looked around his room. Your eyes caught sight of the posters of you on his wall and an accidental laugh left your lips. Eddie pulled away from your neck and looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” He asked, looking at you. “Did I do something wrong?” He continued, hoping you didn’t think this was a huge mistake. 

You giggled a little, shaking your head. “No, sorry, just, you have posters of me on your wall?” You asked, glancing back at the posters that sat above his bed and above his record player. 

Eddie’s cheeks turned a bright red as he turned his head, glancing at the two posters you were talking about. “Look, I just, they came with your vinyl!” He replied, trying to prove a point. “What else am I supposed to do? Let them sit in my closet and collect dust, I mean, look at you!” He added, frantically hoping this wasn’t a weird deal breaker for you. 

Your right hand moved to his face, caressing his cheek gently before you turned his head back to face you. “You’re cute, you know that?” You asked, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips. “A perfect little fanboy,” you added, kissing his lips again. ”My fanboy.”

“Fuck, yeah,” he nodded, looking at you. “Definitely your fanboy,” he replied, kissing you again. “I wanna make you feel good, please, can I?” He asked, pulling you towards his bed. You nodded, following after him. 

He tugged your sweatshirt up, pulling it up and over your body before discarding it on the floor. He laid you back on his bed gently and crawled on top of you, kissing your lips softly. Slowly, he kissed down your neck and over your chest. Eddie left soft and sweet kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, stopping right above the button of your jeans. He looked up at you, brown eyes glowing and waiting for you to give him the okay to continue.

When you nodded your head, he undid your baggy jeans. You lifted your hips gently, allowing him easier access. He pulled your jeans off gently, tossing them on the floor with your sweatshirt. He sat up on his knees, looking down at you. 

His eyes roamed over your body, committing everything to memory as you laid in front of him in your bra and panties. 

“You’re so beautiful, princess. Fuck,” he said softly, leaning down to kiss your lips softly. “Can I taste you? Please? Been dying to know what you taste like,” he begged, looking at you. 

“Fucking hell, yes. Please,” you replied, watching him pull your panties down. He left soft and sweet kisses on your inner thighs, slowly pushing your legs apart. He looked up at you as he licked a small stripe up your folds, moaning to himself as he tasted you. 

Fuck. You tasted better than he had imagined. So sweet, so… perfect. 

He licked up your folds again, his hands moving under your thighs as he pulled you closer to him, thighs now resting on his shoulders. You moaned softly, fingers tangling into his hair as you watched him. He left soft kisses on your clit, looking up at you as he did so. 

“Fuck, Eddie,” you mumbled, tugging on his curls gently. “You’re good with your mouth, ah,” you added. He groaned at your words, tongue flicking over your clit gently before he sucked on it. His right hand moved closer to your core, his pointer finger and middle fingers teasing your entrance before slowly pushing into you. You gasped at the feeling, back arching up slightly as he slowly began pumping his fingers in and out of you while simultaneously sucking on your clit. “Jesus, Eds,” you whined, pulling on his hair tighter. He groaned against you, speeding up his movements with his fingers. 

“God,” he sighed, looking up at you. “God, you’re so… hot. You’re just so fucking hot. So fucking beautiful, you sound so pretty when you’re saying my name like that. You look so pretty like that. You’re just so… perfect.” Eddie said, leaving more kisses on your inner thighs before he bit down gently, leaving a small mark on your inner thigh. 

You moaned, grinding against his fingers. “Fuck, you gonna mark me up as yours?” You asked softly, watching him leave more bite marks across your thighs. He moaned against your thigh, his hips thrusting against the bed gently at the thought. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, nodding up at you. “Gonna make you all mine.” He bit down on the plush skin of your thigh again, his fingers curling inside of you as he pumped them. He kissed back up your body, face now inches from yours as he slowed the movements of his fingers. He pumped them slowly, curling them with each pump as he kissed your lips gently.

You kissed him back, moaning as you tasted yourself on his lips. Your fingernails ran down his back gently, scratching at the fabric of his shirt. “Eddie–ah,” you whined, moving your hips up again, grinding against his fingers as he curled them perfectly, hitting your sweet spot. “Gonna, ah, shit, gonna cum,” you moaned, kissing his lips a bit rougher than before. 

“Fuck, princess, cum for me,” Eddie groaned against your lips, speeding up his movements again. You whined his name, head falling back on his pillows as you clenched around his fingers, releasing your juices onto them with a loud moan. He pumped his fingers a bit more, helping you ride out your high as you fell back on his bed. You caught your breath, looking up at him with a sigh. He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, bringing them to his mouth. He sucked his fingers clean of your juices and moaned, looking at you. “Good god, baby, you taste amazing.” 

You blushed and looked up at him, “yeah?” You asked, smiling slightly. You sat up carefully and kissed his lips. “I bet you taste even better,” you mumbled, reaching for his shirt. You pulled it up and over his head, throwing it to the floor. You pushed him back onto his bed and straddled his lap, kissing his lips desperately. Eddie kissed you with the same desperation as his hands moved behind your back, undoing your bra gently. You slid your bra down your body, throwing it to the ground. 

You left soft and sweet kisses down his neck, chest and stomach. When you reached his jeans you left soft kisses on his erection through the denim, looking up at him as you did. You left a flirty wink before you ran your nails along his lower stomach, running over the soft hair that sat directly above his waistband.

Eddie’s breath hitched as he watched you, groaning at the sight in front of him. He had dreamed of this moment more times than he could count but never in a million years did he think it would actually happen. Like, really? Were you real right now? Or was he passed out at the bar in the Hideout?

“Can I take these off?” You asked, looking up at him as you played with the hem of his jeans. He nodded, pushing your hair out of your face gently before running his fingers through it.

“Please, princess,” he said, looking down at you. You undid his jeans quickly, pulling them down. He moved his hips up, making it easier for you to free him from his denim pants. You tossed them behind you and they landed on the floor with a thud. Your nails ran up his thighs and over the fabric of his boxers before you slid your fingers under the waistband, tugging them down gently. 

As you tugged his boxers down, his rock hard erection sprung free, hitting his stomach. You looked up at him, sinking down between his thighs.

“Well, you’re so pretty,” you mumbled, hand wrapping around the base of his cock gently. “So pretty and so big,” you commented, pumping him in your hand slowly. “Not sure if I can take all of this in my mouth but, I really want to try,” you mumbled, looking up at him as you kissed the tip of his cock. “That okay?” You asked, your tongue flicking over the slit on his tip.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Eddie moaned, watching you. “More than okay, fuck. Please, do anything you want to me, I’m yours.” You smiled, wrapping your lips around the tip of his cock gently. You sucked on it slowly, moaning around him. Eddie whined, his hand running through your hair again as he gathered it gently at the back of your head. 

You moved your head down slowly, taking more of him in your mouth. He watched you, pulling your hair gently as you moved to take more and more of him in your mouth. You made it down about three quarters of the way before you gagged slightly, pulling back from him. You pumped him in your hand and looked up at him. “You’re so big, I’m not sure I can do it,” you said softly, moving back to suck on the tip of his cock gently.

“Fuck, princess, that’s okay,” he groaned, tugging on your locks again. You bobbed your head slightly, taking more of him in your mouth. 

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was seeing; this was definitely everything he imagined and more. Sure, he’d pictured you sucking his cock, but he never thought it would be too big for you to take fully in your mouth. God, you were somehow boosting his ego without even trying. Your sweet eyes looked up at him as you struggled to take him all in his mouth. Every so often you’d gag around him and pull back before going back to what you were doing. 

He moaned every time, watching you proceed to go deeper and deeper for him. He pulled your hair tighter and closed his eyes, groaning as you got him all in your mouth. You moaned around him, looking up at him. He bucked his hips up, causing you to gag loudly but stay where you were, trying to fight through the pain and uncomfort.

“Fuck, baby girl, keep doing that and I’m gonna cum.” Eddie groaned as you went back to bobbing your head slightly. He moaned your name as you took all of him in your mouth again, and he thrusted his hips up against your mouth. He tugged your hair so tightly as he panted, releasing ropes of cum into your mouth. You groaned around him, swallowing it all before you pulled away, leaving a soft kiss on the tip of his cock again. “Holy shit,” Eddie mumbled, shaking his head. “That was better than I had ever imagined.”

“You’ve… imagined that?” You asked, tilting your head slightly as you sat back on your knees on his bed. Eddie sat up, his face turning a bright red color yet again. Damn, he was really out here exposing himself to you, wasn’t he?

“I, uh,” he stuttered, looking around the room. “…no?” He said, sounding more like a question than a statement. “No, because that would be weird and not right.” He mumbled, a giggle escaped your lips as you moved closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“You sure?” You asked, tilting your head as you looked at him. “Because, I think you’re lying.” You mumbled, fingers trailing small circles on his chest. 

“And if I am?” He asked softly, hands moving to hold your hips. 

“I think that’s really hot…” you replied, leaning in to kiss his lips softly. He groaned against your lips and kissed you back, pulling you closer to him. He laid you back on the bed softly and hovered over you, looking down at you. 

“You are just so incredibly beautiful,” he mumbled, leaving soft kisses on your neck. “I still cannot believe this is happening,” he added, his right hand roaming over your body. He moved up to your chest, squeezing your left breast gently as he continued to kiss down your neck and upper chest. He kissed over right breast, tongue flicking over your hardened nipple. You moaned softly, hands tangling into his hair gently. 

“You’re so sweet,” you purred, tugging on Eddie’s locks. He moaned at the feeling and wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking on it softly. You gasped at the feeling, head falling back on the pillows. “Fucking shit, Eddie, I think I’m going to need you to fuck me.” You mumbled, Eddie’s head shot up, looking down at you.

“Yeah?” He asked, sitting up gently. “You want me to fuck you, princess?” He asked, moving towards his bedside table for a condom.

“Want you to fuck me,” you mumbled, running your fingers over his bicep gently as he fished for a condom. “Need you to fuck me,” you added, nails scratching up and down his muscular biceps more.

“Fuck,” he groaned, opening the condom. He stood up, pumping his cock a few times before he slid the condom on slowly. He stood at the edge of his bed and grabbed your thighs gently, pulling you towards him. You squealed softly, looking up at him as he lifted your thighs, moving closer towards you. He teased your folds with the tip of his cock before he pushed in slowly, moaning as he felt you around him. 

You gasped at the feeling, looking up at him. “Eddie,” you whined softly, eyes closing slightly.

“Fuck, princess,” he groaned, filling you up completely. He stayed still for a second before he started to thrust in and out of you slowly. He pulled you closer and your legs wrapped around his body, holding him against you. “Shit,” he mumbled, hands moving down to your breasts. He squeezed your breasts, massaging them as he continued to thrust in and out of you. “So pretty like this, fuck. You look so pretty taking my cock,” he groaned out, leaning down to kiss your lips.

You groaned and kissed him back, hands wrapping around his wrists as he continued to thrust. He picked up the pace a bit, thrusting faster and deeper as he squeezed your breasts harder. 

“Ah, fuck, Eddie, shit,” you moaned, moving your hips against him as he thrusted. “Shit, fuck, you’re so big. You fill me up, god, fuck, made just for me, my perfect fanboy,” you whined, lips moving against his with desperate kisses. He moaned louder, thrusting deeper.

“Fuck, yeah. I’m your fanboy,” he groaned, biting your bottom lip gently before he tugged on it. “You’re my popstar, favorite one ever. Taking my cock so good and sounding so pretty, fuck, your moans sound prettier than your music.”

Eddie released your breasts from his hands and moved his left hand down to where your bodies were connected, rubbing slow and tight circles on your clit. A loud moan escaped your lips as your back arched off the bed, looking up at him. “Eddie, shit,” you moaned, nails scratching down his biceps again. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” He asked, thrusting faster. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Gonna cum on my cock? Gonna cum on your favorite fanboy’s cock?”

You moaned, nodding your head repeatedly. “Yeah, fuck, gonna cum on my favorite fanboy’s cock,” you said blissed out as you felt your high come closer. Eddie made one more deep thrust and felt you clench around him. Your head fell back on the bed as you released around his cock, whining at the feeling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you muttered.

“God, fuck, you’re so pretty baby,” Eddie groaned, “I’m gonna cum, fuck.”

“Yeah? Fuck, cum for me pretty boy,” you sighed, feeling completely blissed out. “My perfect little fanboy.” Your legs tightened around his waist, holding him close to you and inside of you. Eddie moaned at your words, his cock twitching inside of you as he released into the condom. He made a couple more thrusts before he groaned. Your legs fell back down and Eddie pulled out of you, helping you steady yourself so you didn’t fall off the bed.

He placed his hands out for you to grab and helped you sit up on the bed gently. You smiled slightly and sat on the edge of his bed, looking at him. “You’re so perfect,” he sighed, leaning in to give you a soft kiss on the lips. He reached for your panties and his Metallica shirt, handing them to you before he slid the condom off, tying it up before throwing it in the trash. You accepted the shirt and panties, sliding them both on before falling back on his bed. He chuckled slightly, looking at you. “You okay, princess?” He asked, you looked at him and nodded.

“Yeah, you just took a lot out of me, fuck, you’re amazing,” you said, smiling at him. “And, you’re coming to bed with me… right?” You asked, he shuffled towards you and smiled.

“As if that’s even a question.” He grabbed his boxers from the floor and slid them on before laying down in the bed, wrapping his arm around your waist gently.

You moved towards him, a smile on your face as you rested your head on his chest. He left a soft kiss on the top of your head and hummed, closing his eyes.

You giggled softly and he opened his eyes, looking down at you. “What?” He asked, pushing your hair out of your face gently with his finger tips. 

“A poster on the ceiling? Really?” You giggled more, pointing to the poster of you on the ceiling. He blushed softly, groaning as he covered his face with his hand. 

“Please don’t start with me,” he mumbled. 

“My perfect little fan boy, huh?” You teased and he turned bright red. 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.” He sighed, leaving another soft kiss on your forehead. 

“Oh, I will.” You said, snuggling into his side more as you closed your eyes again. 

Eddie held you close to his body and smiled a little. Tonight was different for him, he didn’t need to listen to your music to help him sleep. Instead, he was able to hold you in bed, listening to your breathing and soft snores.

Yeah, this was way better. 

Eddie woke up the next morning to some knocks on the front door of the trailer. He grunted, rolling out of bed gently. He found a dirty shirt from the floor and slid it on over his body. He stretched, groaning as the knocking continued. He looked at your sleeping form and smiled, remembering everything that happened the night before. He leaned down, leaving a soft kiss on your head before he shifted towards the front door of the trailer.

He glanced around and shrugged when he didn’t see his uncle, huh, must be working a double. 

Eddie opened the front door, Gareth and Jeff standing on the other side. “What?” Eddie groaned, rubbing his face as he leaned against the door.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Gareth teased, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’re just checking in on you,” Jeff added, shooting Gareth a glare.

“I’m fine, why?” Eddie yawned, looking at his friends with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, how were we supposed to know? You left us at the Hideout and just disappeared.” Gareth shot back with a snark tone.

“Damn, chill,” Jeff said, looking at Gareth. “It was his birthday, he probably got wasted and came home to sleep it off.”

Eddie went to open his mouth and reply but he was cut off by you. You called his name and walked towards him in your panties and his Metallica shirt from the night before.

“Eddie,” you whined, wrapping your arms around his waist. “You left me alone in bed,” you added, leaving a soft kiss on his neck.

“Sorry, princess,” Eddie said with a small smirk, arm wrapping around your shoulder gently. 

“It’s okay,” you shrugged, looking up at his friends. You remembered Gareth but didn’t know his other friend. “Oh!” You smiled, nodding at his friends. “Gareth, right? And, I’m so sorry, but I don't believe we have met yet,” you added, looking at Jeff.

“Gareth, yeah,” Gareth replied, staring at you.

“Jeff,” Jeff said, sticking his hand out for you to shake. You smiled and shook it gently.

“Nice to meet you, Jeff. Good to see you again, Gareth.” You smiled at the boys before turning your attention back to Eddie. “Come back to bed when you can, yeah?” You asked, placing a soft kiss on his lips before you turned back towards his room. 

Gareth and Jeff both stared at you as you walked away, retreating back to Eddie’s room with a slight shake of your hips. 

“There’s no fucking way.” Gareth said, looking back at Eddie. “Seriously?! You took her home?!” He questioned, the sound of jealousy evident in his voice. 

“Yeah, I did; so what?” Eddie smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door. 

“Fuck,” Jeff muttered, still looking in the direction you went.

“Oh,” Eddie mumbled, remembering something. “Thanks for those VIP meet and greet tickets, Jeffy boy.” Eddie smirked. “Now, I must be going, have a good day.” 

Gareth and Jeff just shared a look as Eddie closed the door in their faces, making his way back to his room to be with you again.

eddie tag list: wanna be added? comment + let me know! @keeryhours ; @the-witty-pen-name ; @swiftieintheupsidedown ; @hawkinsmafia ; @earthlyangelbby ; @jasminelafleur

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 12

Danny: Hey Alfred, I was going through some old files and I was wondering if you could explain something to me.

Alfred: Sure thing Master Daniel.

Danny: How long were each of the Robins, Robin?

Alfred: Well Dick was Robin from the time he was 14 till he was 17, when he decided to become Nightwing. After that your father was Robin from the time he was 14 till 16, when the Joker... killed him. He was gone for six months but by the time he retuned Tim had become the new Robin so your father become Red Hood. Tim was Robin from the ages of 14 to 17, Till Steph came to us and he gave the mantel of Robin to her and became Red Robin. Steph was Robin from the age of 17 to 18, she gave up the mantel to Damian when he was dropped off by Miss al Ghul and took the name Spoiler. Damian took up the mantel of Robin upon his arrival at the age of 10 and has been Robin for the last two years.

Danny: Ok, how old is everyone?

Alfred: Dick is 25, Jason is 22, hopefully you knew that one, Tim and Barbara are 20, Steph, Cass, and Duke are 19, Damian 12, Master Bruce is 34, and my age is classified information.

Danny (laughing): How do I gain clearance to access that information.

Alfred: I grant the clearance.

Danny: Can I have clearance?

Alfred: No.

They laughed.

Alfred: I must ask Danny, what brought along this line of questioning?

Danny: It's the way Bruce talks about the former Robins. The official reports state their ages the way you told them, but between the lines, and the way Bruce talks about their times of Robins I imagined they were all around ten when they took up the mantel.

Alfred: That's a reasonable conclusion to reach. Even though everyone, except Damian, were already teenagers when Bruce took them in, he's always talked about them as if they were little kids. And in all honesty he still does.

Danny: Hmm, interesting. Wait so Bruce took on Dick in when he was 24?

Alfred: Yes. Not even a fully grown adult, the brain doesn't fully develop till the age of 25, but yet Bruce decided to adopt a kid 10 years younger than him.

Danny: Our family is strange.

Alfred (sipping his tea): That it is.

Later at Jason and Danny's apartment.

Danny: Dad can I ask you something?

Jason: What is it kid?

Danny: How did everyone react when you came back to life?

Jason: Oh, that is a story! So after I fought my way back to the Land of the Living I woke up in my coffin and dug my way out. I was a bit disoriented, but somehow made my way around the manor to the front door. I remember nocking and Alfred opening the door and that's it. This part I got from Alfred, I feel into his arms, he called for Bruce, and I was sent to a medical bed in the Batcave. When I came to, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick where next to me. They were happy to see me again, but very confused as to how I came back to life. I explained my story, and Dick started laughing, saying only I of all people would fight my way back to being alive. Bruce on the other hand would not stop apologizing for my death, no matter how many times I told him I forgave him. That's also when I learned that Bruce had killed the Joker.

Danny: What about Tim?

Jason: Tim was hiding behind a wall. Poor kid thought I'd be mad at him for stealing my job as Robin. I told him I wasn't mad and that I was done with all the vigilante stuff for the time, and wanted to take a break. He was also a little worried that Bruce would kick him out but we all put a stop to those concerns, he was part of the family and he wasn't getting rid of us that easily. Anyways, the next day Bruce tackled my legally dead status by creating a fake body of me and putting it in the coffin. So when the police asked questions, they saw a very alive me, and a very fake body in the coffin, and Gotham being Gotham, they didn't ask further question, and my legally dead status was revoked.

Danny: Really? No further questions? Like where you've been for the last six months?

Jason: Nope. But I was allowed to keep my death certificate.

Danny: What about Gotham high society and the general population?

Jason: We told this story that some madmen had kidnapped me and that I managed to escape and make it home. Everyone bought it, or at least knew better than to question it.

Danny: Honestly, that checks out.

Jason: Anyways, after that I started helping Tim train, and after two months of rest I decided to jump back to work and took up the name of Red Hood, and started infiltrating Gotham's criminal underground and quickly rose the ranks. Keep in mind I didn't tell anyone, so Bruce got concerned about this new guy taking over Gotham's criminals and sent Tim to spy. I quickly caught him and brought him for an "interrogation." I expected Bruce to send Tim so I prepared an evil monologue and everything. After I was done monologuing I removed my mask and started lecturing Tim about how easily I caught him, and that Bruce, Dick, and I taught him better. Tim got mad and we started having a screaming match. Shortly after that Bruce arrived and saw us. Bruce was not happy that I decided to go back to vigilante business without saying anything, but he was proud of the work I was doing, so I got away with it. And that's more or less everything.

Danny: I love this family.

Jason: Yeah, we're great. I still have a grave, right next to grandma and grandpa. ... Please don't tell Bruce I called his Martha and Thomas, grandma and grandpa, poor guy will start crying and hugging me while calling me his son.

Danny (laughing): Don't worry I won't.

(Master Post)

Current ages

Bruce - 34

Alfred - [Classified]

Dick - 25

Jason - 22

Tim - 20

Barbara - 20

Steph - 19

Cass - 19

Duke - 19

Danny - 16

Damian - 12

[shamelesswolftheorist]

It's nights like this, when Simon Riley questions if he's really alive or if he already died. Died in that coffin, buried alive. Killed by Roba and his men. Betrayed, alone, scared and utterly helpless. Just like when he was a child.

It's nights like this, when Simon Riley seeks you out. The only medic on base, and the only person he can trust, because you went through the same as him. Buried and betrayed too. Scarred for the rest of your life.

It's nights like this, the both of you feel utterly at peace. Tightly wrapped in each others arms, in a silent and dark corner of the hospital ward. Where no lights can reach, so nobody can see you like this. Masks off and vulnerable. Sometimes even crying because all those emotions were too much to bare.

And on some rare occasion you move from the dark corner to one off the empty beds around you. Shielded by some thin curtains and a stiff blanket that is wrapped around your too cold bodies.

Simon Riley is usually the big spoon while you are the little one. Caged in his thick, veiny arms and pressed agains his broad chest. Face buried in your hair, waiting until the tears are dried, before he looks at you again.

And it's when he looks at you, peaceful and sleeping in his arms, that he knows he is not dead. Because this you are heaven, and if he would have died then he knows he wouldn't have made it into heaven. He would be in hell. Paying for all the things he did. But instead he is being rewarded.

Rewarded by having you.