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baby-yongbok · 8 months ago

Text

𝘗𝘪𝘯𝘬 + 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦

Hwang Hyunjin 𝗑 Afab!Reader

♡ Genre - Friends to Lovers

♡ CW - Explicit Sexual Content, Unprotected Sex, Nightmares, Alcohol usage by reader, Hyunjin calls reader rose as a nickname, One use of 'y/n'.

♡ Summary - Your avoidant tendencies have allowed the burn of pink and white to keep you Hyunjin at a safe distance until it all comes crashing down. Can the fire that kept you apart also be what brings you together?

♡ Word Count - 9.2k

♡ A/N - I went from not being sure if I liked this fic to being in love with it. I think that it's a very sweet fic and I loved writing it. I worked so hard on it and I'm so proud of it. The goal was for it to be 4k words.. then I almost posted it at 8k but now... yeah. I hope that you love this as much as I do!

♡ Playlist - Pink + White - Frank Ocean, Rainy Days - V, For Us - V, Beautiful Things - Benson Boone, Trajectories - Bruno Major

✧ Masterlist ✧

When you were six years old you punched a boy in the face on the playground. That was the first time that you ever felt the burn of genuine fear.

Your mom along with the many others came swirling around them. When your mother asked you what happened you cried. You clung to her running over to you and the crying brunette boy on the playground with a mix of emotions and explained the best you could through your tears that you didn’t like that he was chasing you, when you agreed to play tag you thought that you’d be the chaser not the one being chased.

That was the day that you learned two things about yourself, you have a habit of acting impulsively when you’re scared and you don’t like being chased. It's suffocating.

As you got older your friends described you as the avoidant type, especially in relationships. You developed a reputation for being an ice queen in your Sophomore year of university which led to you being one of the most sought after girls on campus.

You’ve lost friends because of this. Their boyfriends saw getting close to them as a gateway to meeting you. Many guys took dating you as a challenge with an end prize of overnight popularity. Unfortunately, some of your closest relationships have been destroyed because of it. You learned not to be sad about it, you’ve come to terms with it, this is just the way that it goes. Of course your other friends were all important to you but you always told yourself that you’re alright with losing them as long as you have your best friend by your side.

“More roses? Are you in love or something?” You weaved through the cluttered art studio that Hyunjin has claimed as his own. It’s on the dead side of campus on the second floor of a building that was abandoned last year. Your best friend refused to let the studio go when it was shut down, he says that it houses some of his fondest memories.

“Always in love, never loved back.” He quips, eyes still trained on the canvas. “You’re early.”

You jump up onto one of the few clear desks in the room, right behind his easel. “Chemistry ended early.” Hyunjin stands straight, eyeing his canvas for a second before looking over at you. He knows that you’re skipping class. Your last hook-up is in that class and you're trying to avoid his attempt at getting you in his bed again. If you’re being honest, the decision to sleep with him was impulsive. You blame the beer, all eight of them.

“I thought that we could go to the exhibition early.” He starts another brush stroke and silence swallows you both. “I’m excited about it and if I’m being honest I just wanna spend time with you. I’ve barely seen you for the past three days.”

Hyunjin’s steady hand wavers and he thanks his lucky stars that you didn’t see it. “Aw she misses me. She loves me so much.” The sound of your feet hitting the ground as you jump off of the desk echoes through the dusty room of stacked chairs and forgotten storage items.

Hyunjin stands and dips the paint brush covered in bright pink in the cup of water next to him. “You could’ve come to my place ya know.” You grab your stuff, swinging your bag onto your shoulder.

“Your brother is there, you know how he gets.” You scrunch your face at the thought of Hyunjin’s step brother, Jeongin. The two of you get along perfectly, almost as well as you and Hyunjin until Jeongin starts flirting. He confessed to you on New Years and you’ve been avoiding him ever since. He’s too sweet for you, you’d hate to hurt him. “I’m gonna go change, I’ll meet you by your car.”

“You brought a costume change for an art exhibit?” He asks as he starts cleaning his space.

“Of course, I need to look like art too.” You smile at him but he doesn’t smile back, he rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to the mess of paints and rags on the desk in front of him. He waits until he hears the door open and close behind you to finally let the corners of his mouth turn up. He chuckles to himself quietly while his mind comes up with responses that he’d never dare to utter out loud.

“This one looks like you, rose.” The year old nickname slips off of Hyunjin’s tongue like silk. You’ve never fully understood how the name stuck. You figured that it’s because roses are his favorite flower and he thought it was cute. You’ve never asked for its origin but you don’t mind the name. It’s sweet.

You turn to view the series of pink, white and green dots making up a bouquet of roses on the framed canvas in front of Hyunjin. He studies it with smiling eyes though the neutral look on his face could fool those who haven’t experienced him like you have.

“It’s pretty.” You mumble as you lean your head on his shoulder. You wrap your arm around his and the sleeve of the brown oversized flannel shirt that you picked out a year ago rides up his forearm a bit, he blames the chills running up his spine on the breeze against the newly exposed skin.

“I knew I’d see you here.” The voice of a woman next to Hyunjin startles you a bit. You stand straight and watch as Hyunjin smiles towards her. He’s cursing her in his head for interrupting the moment between the two of you but he learned a long time ago to just live in the moment when it comes to you.

“Of course, I had to see this exhibition.” He shakes her hand and you chalk it up to her being someone important though she doesn’t look much older than either of you. “You put it together beautifully.”

Ah, she owns the gallery. “Oh, please, it’s nothing. I just hope that you’re enjoying it. I actually thought about you when I put this piece up.” She motions towards the art in front of the two of you. The piece that Hyunjin says resembles you. “It looks like something you’d design. I’m still desperate to organize a local exhibition for you, ya know.”

Hyunjin laughs but it's stiff and polite. He’s being shy. He’s a very cautious person but he reaches a whole new level when it comes to his art. “I’m not quite on that level yet.”

“I disagree but I won’t bother you about it until you graduate. This is your final semester, right?” You can see her eyes smiling just like Hyunjin’s were a second ago as she checks him out. She’s shameless in her actions, the glint in her eyes is far from professional.

“Yes, just three months to go.” She nods, dragging her gaze up from his lips with a smile.

“Call me when you graduate, I’d love to have you working with us.” She pulls a business card out of her pocket and flashes one last smile before waving a reluctant goodbye towards your best friend.

Silence settles between the two of you for just a couple of seconds before you break it. “She wants to fuck you so badly that she didn’t even look at me.” Hyunjin scoffs at your whispered words as he slips the card into his pocket. “Don’t tell me that you didn’t notice. How old is she anyway? She looks a bit young to be in charge of this place.”

“Her father owns it.” He mumbles as he grabs your wrist and leads you over to the next piece of art.

“Oh, of course. She probably thought I was your girlfriend, ya know. She’s rude as hell for not even asking or looking at me. I know she saw me here, she’s clearly -” You’re pulled into Hyunjin’s side before you can finish your sentence. The sudden action cuts you off with a heavy thump of your heart and that painfully familiar burn rising in your chest.

“Look at this one.” Your eyes are on him but his are on the art. “This one looks like you too.” You pull your gaze away from him to view the piece. The thumping in your chest doubles once your gaze meets your own. It’s a mirror with pink and white abstract designs floating around and over the glass. The paint is so messy yet strategic. It leaves just enough room for your reflection.

“It’s messy yet elegant, don’t you think? You can’t help but to stare..” He’s visibly smiling now. The corners of his mouth turn up as he studies the art in front of him. As he studies you. “This one might be my favorite. It’ll be hard to beat it.”

“I don’t like it.” You mutter quickly, pulling away from Hyunjin and turning towards the next piece. You try your best to steady your breathing. You will your heart to calm down so that you can take a complete breath but it’s betraying you. “I’m gonna use the bathroom.”

You’re walking away before Hyunjin can reply. He watches you with that smile in his eyes as you disappear around the corner. He knew that what he pulled would be a risk but it was one that he was willing to take. He doesn’t call you beautiful nearly as much as he should or as much as he really wants to.

In the bathroom you’re slumped against the door of a stall while you try to catch your breath. You don’t like how Hyunjin’s words made that white hot burn in your chest kick up. You don’t like the way that his eyes being on you made you feel like you were the only two in the entire gallery. It’s suffocating.

When you step out of the stall your fingers are busy on your phone screen. You find your friend Isa’s number quickly and take a sigh of relief when she answers on the third ring. You bypass reciprocating her kind greeting and get right to the point.

“Get-together at yours tomorrow?”

You’re standing in the middle of the Pink and White art exhibition. Other viewers jumble together along the walls of the gallery and crowd the pieces. You can’t see anything but their blurred faces decorating the white walls. There’s a slow yet heavy beating in your ears but you’re comfortable. You’re alone in the middle of it all, watching everyone from a pleasant distance as you turn to study them all as if they’re the art on the walls.

The beating in your ears skips as you turn and come face to face with Hyunjin. He’s standing in front of you wearing that brown hat that you love and the oversized flannel that he bought just to share with you.

Suddenly the others in the room are quiet. All eyes are on you but Hyunjin’s gaze is the most piercing. His brown eyes are smiling at you with a softness that makes the flame in your chest burn brighter.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You look around at everyone else but they’ve vanished along with the art on the walls. The beating in your ears picks up, it’s deafening but Hyunjin’s voice can be heard loud and clear over the noise.

“I like staring at you.” He takes a step towards you but you take two back. He frowns and steps forward again. You repeat the process until your back is against the wall. “Why do you do that?”

“I’m not doing anything.” You swallow hard as you try to push him away but he’s stronger than you. As strong as stone caging you against the stark white wall. “I can’t breathe.” You’re pushing as hard as you can but it’s no use. You’re stuck under him.

“Why do you do this?” He’s still staring down at you, a burning gaze setting your skin ablaze. “Why do you keep running?” The beating in your ears drowns out all sensible thoughts. You can feel your veins swelling with fear and the blinding white burning in your chest puffs up with the crushing pressure of having him so close. Too close.

“Back up.” You inhale the thick air, feeling dizzy. “Move.”

“Stop running.” You try to inhale but it gets stuck in your throat. You want to scream. You need to escape. You need to get out of here.

You lift your heavy arm the best you can and pull back enough to punch Hyunjin. You aim for his face but your fist goes through him just as your lungs start to burn, you take one last look at him before the wall behind you gives out and you’re falling backwards. Hyunjin watches you, his eyes are void of that sparkling smile and guilt consumes you right before you hit the ground.

You jump up with a gasp as your eyes frantically search the room around you. Your chest rises and falls heavily and sweat beads at your hairline.

It was a dream.

Friday is a late day for you with your last class ending at nine in the evening. Hyunjin always waits for you in the abandoned art studio, he waits for two hours just to walk you to your dorm across campus. It’s become a routine for the two of you but you told him not to wait up tonight. He was reluctant at first, he insisted on waiting for you but you were adamant about breaking your routine.

He agreed eventually but you could see the dejection in his eyes as he hugged you goodbye before your last class. He watched you walk away just like he always did but this time his heart was heavy in his chest. Did he do something wrong?

That question haunted him throughout the day. It was loud in his head as he collected his stuff and made his way to the abandoned studio. It echoed in his ears as he tried to finish the painting of his vibrant rose that he’s added notes of dusty pale pink to. But it was the loudest when Jeongin called him to ask if he was going to the get-together at Minho’s place tonight.

He knows that you and Minho’s girlfriend Isa are close so you have to know about this, hell, you might’ve even helped plan it and you kept it from him. You’re avoiding him.

You skipped your class to head to Minho and Isa’s place. They share a small apartment right off of campus that you often use as an escape. Isa is one of the few friends that you still have from sophomore year since her boyfriend has never once tried to get in your pants.

You sat on Isa’s bed clutching a bottle of soju that is not at all meant for one person while you laid your head in her lap. You loved being with her because there was never any pressure to fill the silence. She understands you in a way that other people just don’t. Not even Hyunjin.

“So, he called you pretty?” You’ve been telling her everything from what happened at the art gallery to the nightmare you had last night. “And now you’re avoiding him?”

“I’m not avoiding him.” You take a swig from the glass bottle and gulp hard to rush the alcohol into your system. “I’m just being careful.”

“You’re being careful by avoiding your best friend… because he called you pretty and you had a nightmare about it?” You sit up with a groan, lifting the bottle to your mouth again with a sigh. She’s not getting it.

“You didn’t see the way he looked at me. You didn’t feel the way he pulled me into him, his arm wrapped around my waist and he just stared at me with that smile in his eyes. You know the one that makes his eyes shine when he sees something pretty? He was looking at me like that and he told me that I looked elegant. Messy but elegant and that he couldn’t help but to stare. There was a softness in his voice, I swear, and he just wouldn’t take his eyes off of me. It’s like he was looking into me instead of at me it was… it was..”

“Sweet?” You tap the bottle in your hands with your nails.

“Suffocating. It was too much. It made my heart skip and it made me feel hot.”

“That usually means that you like him, ya know.” She takes the bottle from you, drinking from it a bit herself. “ You know that he’s a romantic and this isn’t the first time you’ve felt like this with him.” She hands the cold glass back to you while you think back to the other times that you’ve felt this. The latest being your birthday three months ago when Hyunjin whisked you away to the next city for a mini getaway.

You stayed in the same hotel room and on the night of your birthday you had a bit too much to drink. He carried you up to your room since you were too out of it to walk but you weren’t too far gone to forget the way that he handled you with such gentle care.

He brushed your hair out of your face when he laid you on your bed and took your make-up off with such a tender touch that it made you want to kiss him. You almost kissed him.

“I don’t like him like that.” You shrug and she sighs.

“Whatever you say, ice queen.” That damned nickname makes you cringe but Minho is bursting through the door before you can rebuttal.

“Jisung and Bin just got here, come on.” You stare at him with confused eyes and he crosses his arms as he stares back at you. “Well? Get up, you wanted to do this.”

“Do what?” You look over at Isa who’s already getting up from the bed.

“Did you not call her asking for a get-together? People are getting here so come on. I’m not hosting this by myself.” Your heart drops and you stare over at Isa who looks back at you with her own look of confusion until it all sinks in.

“You meant for it to be just us, didn’t you?”

Hyunjin is a cautious person, anyone who knows him knows that about him. He doesn’t like when things go wrong because of him. It eats him alive until he can fix it and if he can’t he lets the anxiety consume him until a part of him dies with the memory of it all.

His cautious nature is what prompted him to drive home after he got that call from Jeongin. It brought him right to his bedroom where he dropped his bag by the foot of his bed and laid back against the mattress with a death stare set on the dull ceiling. It stared back at him, reflecting his thoughts back to him for him to analyze.

His brother left for the get-together as soon as he walked through the door and Hyunjin was tempted to follow him down to Seungmin’s car.

He was tempted to drop his bag and turn on his heels and come straight to you but he knew better. He knew you better than you knew yourself. If he shows up at that get-together you’ll avoid him like the plague. You’ll feel trapped by his presence and any hope that he has of fixing this situation will die right in front of his eyes.

His cautious nature is what’s keeping him on his bed. It’s what’s grounding him to this spot and sating the burning desire to chase you. The problem is that the fire in his chest is bigger than he can handle. He’s seen how you treat the men you want to avoid on campus, he’s seen you take the long way home just to avoid a conversation and the thought of you doing that to him makes him wilt. He can’t let that happen.

His feet are carrying him across his room before he can even fully process it. He opens his closet and pulls out the brown flannel along with his brown beanie. They’ve become comfort items for the both of you at this point, especially the flannel. It feels like a thread connecting you to him and him to you. He needs to save that connection.

He sloppily throws on the items while he checks the clock. He’s nearly two hours late but there’s still time.

Hyunjin has never gotten a speeding ticket but he was nearly positive that he’d get one tonight. He made it to Minho’s place in record time but he’s panting when he knocks on the door like he’s ran there. His heart is hammering when Isa answers the door and the look on her face when she takes him in only makes his heart beat faster.

She forces a smile, inviting him in and telling him where everything is but he already knows all of that and she knows that he does. “She doesn’t want to see me does she?” Isa sighs, giving him a look that answers each and every one of his questions all at once.

“Thanks for letting me in.” He walks past her with a nervous huff, making his way into the small party and searching for you immediately. He finds Changbin and Chan before he can find you and the two quickly drag him into a conversation about gods know what while wedging a glass bottle of mystery liquid into his fist.

Hyunjin’s eyes wander in an attempt to find you as he ignores his friends' conversation. Luckily it didn’t take long for the sound of your loud laughter to echo through the room. His eyes were on you in an instant once he heard it. You’re right in front of him sitting in the truth or dare circle with a can of something strong in your hand. You’re always the loudest in the room but right now you seem to be the drunkest too, you shouldn’t be playing that game you’ll do something reckless.

He wants to go over and pull you up, he wants to tell you that you’re going home and that you need to sober up. He wants to get you to talk to him but he ignores everything he wants and watches you instead. He stays cautious and keeps his distance.

“Y/n, truth or dare.” One of your few girl friends, Harvey asks from across the circle. You answer ‘dare’ with a wide smile, it’s no surprise, you always pick that. The raven haired girl looks over to Mingi for assistance since she’s known for picking terrible dares. After a couple seconds of deliberation the blonde perks up with an idea.

“I dare you to kiss whoever this bottle lands on.” Mingi dares with a nonchalant smile and you shrug, the alcohol in your system is surely boosting your confidence but it’s not like you’ll remember any of this tomorrow so who cares, right?

He spins the bottle in the middle of the circle and everyone watches with quiet anticipation as it lands on the copper haired boy sitting three people away from you. It’s Jeongin.

He stops in the middle of sipping from his cup and flashes you a small innocent smile but what you return to him is nothing less than a look of raw seduction. You’re on your feet in an instant, making your way over to him with low and hazy eyes. You straddle him swiftly, getting comfortable in his lap like you’ve done this a hundred times.

“You sure about this, noona?” His hands rest on your thighs, he brushes his thumbs over the bareskin and you can feel a shiver down your spine. It almost reminds you of how Hyunjin touched you on your birthday.

“Do you not wanna kiss me?” You tease him with a slight slur to your voice. You know he wants to kiss you, everyone does except for Hyunjin, right?

Just as that thought passes your eyes flicker up and meet those of the very man on your mind. He’s watching you with an angry gaze as he fists the neck of the glass bottle in his hand. Your mouth goes dry as you take him in, when did he get here? You feel stuck staring at him, everything around you is suddenly muted and the people around you disappear. It’s only you and Hyunjin.

Both of your hearts are pounding in your chest.

Both of you feel like you can’t breathe.

Both of you are about to do something that you shouldn’t.

“Kiss her already!” Ryujin instigates from across the circle and you snap out of your haze and blink down at Jeongin. You both share a smile, one more genuine than the other, before he’s leaning into you. His lips just barely brush against yours before you’re interrupted.

A firm grip on your shoulder startles you and the man under you. You both look up to meet the eyes of the angry Hyunjin above you.“Get up.” He practically growls with a slight tug on your arm. You stare up at him with glassy eyes though you are feeling a bit more sober now. “Get. Up.”

You’re being pulled up before you can process it. Your feet fight to keep up with him as you stumble towards the bedroom he’s leading you to. You can feel all eyes on you, you can feel the room getting smaller once he locks the bedroom door behind the two of you and pulls his flannel off to drape over your shoulders, something that he does to comfort you.

“What the fuck?” That’s all you can manage to get out of your mouth as you stare over at him. He stares back with his arms crossed and his chest rising and falling with what you perceive as anger but he would describe as anxiety. Pure fear.

“Do you understand what you were about to do?” Hyunjin tries to be mindful of his tone. He tries to limit the waver of his words and calm the frantic thoughts in his head. He’s trying. “Why would you kiss him?”

“I didn’t.” The alcohol in your system takes over again and you thank the ridiculous amount of soju you’ve consumed for coming to the rescue. You tug on the flannel resting over your shoulders, pretending that its warmth would protect you from the buzzing in your head and inevitable burning in your chest.

“You would’ve if I didn’t stop you. What happened to you not being into Jeongin? What happened to you not wanting to hurt him?”

You groan, stomping your foot like a child being scolded by their guardian. Like the little girl who punched the brunette boy in the face for chasing her. “Why don’t you mind your business?”

Hyunjin scoffs, his anxiety grows in his chest and he takes a step back. “You are my business.”

It’s silent for one, two, three heartbeats before the dizzying emotions burning in your chest fill in the silence for you. “Well maybe I shouldn’t be. You’re way too attached to me.”

Hyunjin feels frozen even though he’s stepping back from you. He’s creating more space between the two of you just like you seem to be doing. What do you mean by that? You’re rambling on before he can ask. “You do all of these things that make me feel like I can’t breathe. You call me pretty and you touch me softly and you hold me close and… and you just make me feel hot. You suffocate me.”

Hyunjin whispers through the bubbles forming in his throat. He’s gentle with the way he speaks, he is a cautious person after all, especially when it comes to his art. “Is this about what I said at the gallery?”

His question goes in one ear and right out the other. Your brain formulates words quicker than you can process them, creating a violent episode of word vomit that threatens to spill over your lips and onto the carpet but you swallow hard and condense it all into one simple yet seering sentence. “You keep making my heart race, it’s not fair. You need to go, just go.”

Hyunjin’s blood runs cold and his temples throb like you’ve hit him. Like you’ve punched him in the face. Anxiety bubbles in his veins and swells behind his eyes. It’s his turn to ramble, the word vomit seems to be contagious.

“I’m not leaving.” His gaze is frantic, cautious, scared. “I am too attached, you’re right. I have been for a while. I’ve loved you for a while and I tried to hide it but I shouldn’t have to. I shouldn’t be scared that I’ll lose my best friend if I tell her that she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“No, you are not confessing to me right now. Don’t you dare do that.” You pace to the left then the right in a hurried attempt to escape his words before they could reach you. He can’t be doing this right now. You needed to get out of here.

“I am. I am confessing to you. I need you to hear me say that I love you because I do and it scares me just as much as it scares you but you are the reason that it’s scaring me. Losing you is the reason that I’m afraid and I need you to tell me that that isn’t going to happen.” His voice is shaky just like your hands. He watches you like a dog being dropped off at the pound as you physically try to escape him. He knew this would happen, this is what he was afraid of.

“Stop. Just stop it, Hyunjin. You’re doing it again, I can’t breathe when you’re this close to me.” He stares over at you from the other side of the room and you stare back at him. This doesn’t make any sense. He isn’t next to you but you still can’t breathe. It doesn’t make any sense. “I have to go - I have - just… just leave me alone.” You turn towards the bedroom door but he speaks up before you can make your escape.

“I’m not going to chase you.” Hyunjin is unmoving. His feet are still planted to the floor like a statue as he slips his fists into his pocket. “I don’t want to push you further away but don’t you dare go home and convince yourself that I don’t care just because I let you go.”

You listen to him over your hammering heart with your back turned to him and your unsteady gaze trained on the worn door knob. “I’m letting you go with the hope that you’ll come back. You know where to find me.”

Your feet threaten to betray you, they try to turn you around and drive you over to him but your heart is screaming. That white flame is burning in your chest and begging you to run. Run as fast as you can and find safety, but your safety is standing behind you. It’s watching you with teary eyes that are desperate to meet yours.

A tear slips down your cheek as you grab the doorknob and pull it with a quick twist. You follow your heart and rush out of the room with tears decorating your face and your hand over your mouth. You let the burning win again.

You rush past everyone, Isa tries to stop you and Minho even catches you for a minute but you fight him off of you and make your way to the front door. You don’t get too far before the last layer of your resolve snaps, You turn onto the next dark block and sink to the ground. Sobs rip through you as Hyunjin’s words hang in your head. He loves you. He wants you but you left him. You left everything you’ve ever wanted behind you.

A heavier sob escapes you as the truth of it all comes crashing down. You love him too, don’t you? You’ve loved him for so long. Since your birthday and beyond that but you’ve been avoiding it. You’ve avoided your feelings just like you have everything else. You’ve punched yourself in the face, you’ve chased yourself into a corner and now you might just lose everything you have left. You might lose your best friend.

The storms over the next two days swirl the skies into mysterious clouds of pink and white as rain soaks the grass the same way that you’ve soaked your pillow for hours. You’ve opted to stay in, avoiding anything or anyone that could remind you of Friday’s catastrophe.

You’ve debated texting Jeongin and apologizing for what you remember of the situation. You almost called Isa to spill the fears bubbling in your lungs to her so that she could help you sort through them but she can’t. This is up to you. You need to make a choice. Will you run away from the fire or towards it?

On the other side of campus Hyunjin sits in the abandoned studio with paint stained hands and dried tears on his cheeks. He’s left his previous painting incomplete. The bright blushing rose sits across the room with the others just like it while he touches his brush to the canvas and smears a smoky mauve to the pristine white flesh. His lines are messy and uncalculated. Far from cautious.

For a moment he considers that he was only ever careful because of you. Your lack of control over your emotions inspired him to fill in the blanks for you. Now there’s no need for caution without you.

The rain carried into Monday along with the emptiness in your chest. You’ve typed and deleted paragraphs to Hyunjin who has done the same as he sat on the studio floor.

He stayed in the dusty room until midnight each day that he was without you and you stayed up well past then. He poured himself into painting and you poured yourself onto the carpet of your dorm room. You made lists and mapped your emotions until it all started to make a bit more sense. Until the love that burned alongside your hot white fear was glowing pink in the mirror.

You skipped your classes on Monday, your feet drove you over to the dead side of campus through the violent rain. You stood in the hallway outside of Hyunjin’s studio. The worn copper doorknob stared back at you like it knew what you were here to do. Like it was daring you to go inside. You suck in a breath as you grab the metal, you’ve never been one to back down from a dare.

The studio is empty when you walk inside. The fading warm light of the lamps that you and Hyunjin bought and snuck in illuminate the space the best that they can given the dull pink skies. Your eyes catch on the new piece sitting up on his easel. It’s dark and runny, it’s raw and it feels like it’s calling your name.

“Hi.” Hyunjin’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts. His voice is small and surprised as he stares over at your frame clad in that famous brown flannel and sweatpants.

“Hi.” You whisper back. He looks like a mess. Brown hat, pulled too far over his head and his hair spilling from every exit it can find. “More roses?”

He stares passed you and over at the wilting petals on the canvas with a sad smile. “It’s like I’m in love or something.”

Your guilt tinged heart beats a bit faster when he steps further into the room and closes the door behind him. He drops his bag next to the door and stares at the dinghy tile with his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. For everything, for the party and everything with your brother and for everything that I said.”

The word vomit is back. It spilled over your lips before you could attempt to swallow it back but you’re almost thankful for it. You have no clue how you’d get your words out otherwise. “You just made me feel… I just felt..” You kick at the cracked tile as if it holds the answers you’re looking for but Hyunjin beats you to it.

“Suffocated.” His eyes are on you now, they’re low and shadowed in a longing sadness. “I’ve seen this happen a million times to other guys and I thought that I was being careful enough to avoid it.”

“This is nothing like the other guys.” Your bag slumps off of your shoulder and you carelessly allow it to hit the floor. “Your confession just -” He cuts you off with a tight smile.

“I know. It ruined everything.” He sighs, sad eyes examining the space between the two of you. “I ruined everything and I’m sorry for that, rose. I really am.”

“It didn't. It didn’t ruin anything, it just scared me. I felt suffocated, yes, but not by you. It was by what I felt for you. That’s why this isn’t like what happened with any of the other guys. I never wanted them. Avoiding them was easy but you… avoiding you..” Hyunjin watches your heaving chest with the caution that he thought had abandoned him. He’s quiet, allowing you time to gather your thoughts. He doesn’t want to corner you, he just wants to hear you.

“Why do you call me that?” You whisper once your breathing has steadied. “Why did you start calling me rose?”

Suddenly he’s looking past you then down at the tile under his feet. He leans against the door behind him, a faint smile decorating his sad face. “You were wearing one in your hair on the day that I realized I love you.” He looks over to where his easel is set up. “We were sitting right there and you had a pale pink rose behind your left ear. You picked me one to match and I told you that it was my favorite flower because in that moment it was. It was beautiful but you…your beauty is hard to beat.”

Your heart is thumping in your ears, it’s a sound that you’ve grown comfortable with over the past few days. The clutter of the abandoned room almost seems to disappear as you process his words. The burning in your chest makes itself known along with the newly identified pink flame. The white walls of the studio almost seem brighter as you receive Hyunjin’s confession. You let it sink in and drown out the tension little by little. “So when you paint them…”

“I’m painting you. I’m always painting you.” The thumping is deafening but Hyunjin is clear over the noise. He has always been the only one who can cut through it all, even in your dreams.

You can feel yourself falling just like in your nightmare only it’s forwards. You’re falling forwards as your feet carry you to him. You run. You run to him and you fall into his arms that have been desperate to catch you for months. The burn in your chest is paralyzing, it’s seering and fighting the pink flame for dominance.

You cry into his chest, you sob as the pain of running into the fire engulfs you. It swallows you whole and you stand in it with him, you cling to him before you burn to ash and he holds you like he knows it all. He cradles the back of your head like he can feel the fire ripping your flesh apart.

You’re flush against him, tears soaking his shoulder and burning all over until he does what no one has done before. He puts it all out. A simple kiss to the top of your head dowses the flame and reduces it to a measly spark of fear overshadowed by an uncontainable pink and white glow of love in your chest.

You gasp at the cooling effect. Air rushes into your lungs and you can finally breathe, he’s the oxygen you needed. He’s everything you’ve needed but now you want to give your air away again. You want to give it all to him.

You pull away from his shoulder in one swift motion, your eyes are shut tight as your lips find his and you pull him into a hard and messy kiss. The sound that escapes you both is desperate and beautiful. His lips move with yours in an uncoordinated rhythm that makes your lungs burn comfortably. They burn the way that they’re supposed to.

Hyunjin cries into the kiss. Tears stream down his cheeks as he cradles you against him like you’d vanish if he didn’t. He drinks it all in, he allows himself to live in this moment that he’s been dying to have with you for what feels like an eternity before he reluctantly breaks the kiss.

His eyes are still closed when he pulls away. He whispers to you, careful not to crack the shell of this delicate moment. “I thought you -”

“I don’t want to keep running. I can’t, I need you. I can’t lose you.” Your eyes flutter open at the same time as his. He stares down at you with that smile in his eyes. That smile he has when he sees something beautiful, when he’s utterly enamored by the sight before him. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how to do any of this, I only know that I want to do it with you.”

He’s quiet for a couple of seconds before a smile sneaks up on him. It fades just as quickly as it came and his eyebrows pinch together. “You want me?” You nod and the smile shows itself again.

“I want you.” He leans back in, cupping your cheek as he kisses you hard. His body pushes against yours and you move with him as he walks backwards towards one of the few empty desks and lifts you onto it.

His hands explore every inch of you that he can reach. He balls his fist over the baggy flannel hiding your body from him while your fingers tangle in his hair and scratch over his shoulders and up his arms.

He breaks the kiss to run his lips over the flushed flesh of your neck, he whispers into your skin between each kiss “Tell me to stop.” He pulls at the collar of the flannel to kiss the curve of your neck. “I’ve waited so long for this, please tell me to stop. Tell me to wait.”

You push his head further into the crook of your neck as you tilt your head further to give him better access. “I don’t want you to.” He sucks a mark into the skin right below your ear and you pull his tucked in shirt from his pants with an elated moan.

His clumsy fingers fight to unbutton the oversized flannel as yours attempt to unbutton his jeans. You reach your goal before he does and waste no time capitalizing on your victory. You dip your hand in just enough to fish his growing erection from his briefs and wrap your hand around it.

Hyunjin moans at the stimulation, leaning his forehead against yours and squeezing his eyes shut as you stroke him slowly. “Fuck, please don’t, I wont - I can’t last.”

You kiss his temple softly, whispering reassurance that you don’t care to have him last, you just want to have him. Once he’s centered himself again he continues his struggle to expose your body to him. The final button falls open like the curtain to a play and he stares down your scantily clad torso like an audience in awe.

His hand moves on its own as he admires you. It dips into the waistband of your sweatpants and swipes over your clothed clit.

Your head falls forward to rest on his shoulder with a quiet moan as he groans into the air. Your grip on his cock tightens a bit in response to the sensation and he hisses. “Please tell me I can feel you. Is it okay? Can I?”

He doesn't want your first time to be here but he wants you. He needs you.

Hyunjin hooks a finger into the damp gusset of your panties and pulls it to the side just enough to slip a finger into your waiting cunt. You pant in his ear, wanton moans bubble over the brim of your lips as his free hand cradles the side of your neck. “Look at me, please look at me, baby.”

He runs his thumb over your cheek, brushing over the path of your dried tears. “So pretty, this must be a dream.” You shake your head. Speaking between moans. “Not a dream, baby.”

He slips in another finger as you circle your palm over the head of his cock and you both moan. “Please tell me I can.” He leans his forehead against yours, his desperate eyes reflect the look in your own.

“You can. Please, I want you to.”

“Have you ever thought about it?” He’s asking before he can process it and you’re shaking your head before he can even finish his sentence. A shy glaze washes over your desperate gaze as you watch him undress you.

“You’re all I ever think about.” He whispers as he hooks his thumbs into the band of your pants. “You’re all I’ve wanted for the past year.”

“I’ve loved you since my birthday.” You blurt out, vulnerable eyes peering into his. “Maybe even before that.” He runs a finger over your clothed cunt and you shudder under the touch.

“I wanted to kiss you the night of your birthday. You looked so beautiful but you were wasted. You wouldn’t have remembered. I just stared at you, I took your make-up off and I brushed the hair from your face and you stared back at me. I was just dying to kiss you. I was dying to confess.” Your hand runs slowly up his shaft and he swears that he feels electric.

“I wanted to kiss you too.” He’s quiet, staring back at you with a smile. “That’s why I was staring”

“I kissed your forehead when you fell asleep.” He pulls your panties down your legs, allowing them to pool at his feet with your sweatpants. “I knelt by your bed and whispered my confession to you.”

His fingers are filling you again and you gasp while staring into his eyes. “I wanna hear it.” You whisper through a moan.

“You want to hear my confession?” You nod, your gently fucked out gaze stares into his like your hypnotized by the moment. He scissors his finger into you, stretching you out just a bit before you’re gasping from the stretch of him replacing his fingers with his length.

“Fuck, you’re inside of me.” Hyunjin stills with a groan. His forehead rests on your shoulder while he silently begs himself not to come undone just yet. He sucks in a breath before he recites all that he can remember.

“You’re everything that I thought it would be to fall in love.” He whispers as he pulls back, thrusting into you slowly. “You really snuck up on me, I don’t know what I expected though.” He lifts his head to look at you as he sinks back into you. “You became my world so quickly. So effortlessly.”

You cup his face with both of your hands as you bite back your moans. You want to hear him loud and clear. You want to remember every word. “I should’ve known that I’d fall in love when I first met you.” He picks up the pace, falling into a messy rhythm that’s accompanied by a fit of moans and grunts.

He struggles to keep his eyes on you. They flutter shut with each thrust as he feels himself float closer and closer to his climax. “Baby, I won’t last.” You wrap your arms around his neck and one of his wraps around your waist while the other rests on your thigh before creeping over to softly pinch and rub your clit.

“Hyune, you’re gonna make me - gonna -” He cuts you off with a sloppy kiss, his tongue brushes over your parted lips to request access before making room for itself against yours.

“If you tell me that you’re gonna cum I won’t last another second.” He whispers against your lips and you moan against his.

“What if I tell you that I love you.” Hyunjin’s eyebrows pinch at the confession. That’s way worse than telling him that you’re close. “I’ve loved you back for as long as - as long as you’ve loved me.”

“Rose, baby, you’re gonna -” It’s your turn to kiss him now, it’s a mess of teeth and tongue but you love it. You love him and him you.

You both pull away in tandem, twin moans ripping through your chests as you both announce yourself to the other.

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” Hyunjin pulls out of you, painting your thighs in his sticky white release while his fingers toy with your clit to ride you through your orgasm. It’s loud and messy and beautiful. A romantic elegance that you want to live in for as long as it’s available.

Once you’ve both come down from your high Hyunjin kisses your sweaty forehead and you kiss his. He pulls his bottoms up before grabbing the cleanest paint rag he has to clean you up. A comfortable silence settles around you as you ground yourself and take in the space.

“You didn’t finish that one.”

He follows your gaze over to the painting of the pale pink rose. The middle of the canvas contrasts the rest with nothing but dull line art to show the completed picture. It looks like a work in progress. “I know, but I think I like it like that.” He looks back over at you and you at him.

“It looks like you."

It’s been seven months. Graduation has come and gone in the middle of your blooming relationship with Hyunjin and you’ve dedicated each and every second of your budding love to taming the flame.

Each kiss from him has kept the spark of fear at bay and each touch has taught you how to stop running. It’s been a slow and cautious process that he is more than proud to be a part of. He takes pride in it. He takes pride in being with you.

The smooth breeze of late summer brushes against your skin as you step out of your car. The white dress that Hyunjin picked out for you sticks to you like paint on a canvas as you make your way up to the art gallery.

It’s buzzing inside, people stand and stare in awe at each piece while whispering and pointing to their favorite details. You stop and stand in the middle of it all, taking it all in with a slow spin on the balls of your feet. You take in every corner until you turn around completely and you’re met with the face of the artist himself.

“Hi.” Hyunjin smiles down at you, brown baggy flannel hanging from his shoulders.

“Hi.” You stare back at him with a gleaming smile in your eyes. You take in every inch of him, scanning him like he should be framed and hanging on the walls around you.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Hyunjin wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “I like staring at you.” Your response makes him beam a shy smile.

“You should be staring at the art. The artist might get sad if you don’t.” He kisses your forehead before letting you go. Some people around you stare over at the two of you with curious eyes. They’re eager to put a face to the muse of the showing artist.

You take his hand and lead him over to the piece that a couple is walking away from. You stand in front of it hand in hand as you study it for what feels like the millionth time. “This one is my favorite.” The incomplete pale pink rose stares back at you.

“And why is that?” Hyunjin has that smile in his eyes as he stares up with you. The memory of this piece's origin plays behind his eyes like a memorized movie.

“I’ve been told that it looks like me.” You lay your head on his shoulder and wrap your arm around his. A chill runs up his spine and he blames it on you. You and the love he feels glowing pink and white around you.

“There you are.” History repeats itself as the lady that you’ve come to know as Dalia interrupts the two of you. “I wanted to check in with you, how does it feel to finally have your own exhibition?”

Hyunjin smiles at her politely, turning towards her a bit with his fingers still threaded through yours. “It’s amazing. Thank you, you’ve done a wonderful job putting this together.”

“Oh, please, it’s nothing. This is all you.” You watch her as her eyes smile just as they always have. Her hand brushes over his arm in a carefully calculated move. She’s still shameless and unprofessional. “This piece is my favorite. The unfinished look is unique and raw. What inspired this one?”

You grin to yourself as you listen to her. She’s trying so hard that it’s difficult not to laugh.

“Actually.” Hyunjin pulls your hand a bit, leading you forward so that you’re right next to him. It’s impossible for Dalia to ignore you now. Her eyes scan you reluctantly and the smile on her face falters for a second before she pulls it together. Gosh, that's gratifying.

“My lovely rose here is the inspiration for it all.” Hyunjin looks over at you with a glow that is unmatched even by the largest of flames. “None of this would be possible without her.”

It’s like Dalia disappears once Hyunjin looks over at you. You’re the only two in the room as far as you’re concerned. “Oh, well that’s just - that’s wonderful.” Her staggered speech pulls you both out of your loving haze.

“Such a … sweet profession of love.” She glares over at you though you’re sure that in her head she’s doing a wonderful job at hiding her contempt. “I should make sure that everything is running smoothly. Please excuse me.”

She clears her throat awkwardly before she departs, you and Hyunjin both bid her smiling farewells before turning to each other with wide smiles. “Show off.” You push his shoulder playfully and he laughs.

“I didn’t do anything.” You roll your eyes as you both wander over to the next piece on the wall. You stare up at the two pink roses in a lone vase, a shadow of sunlight casts down on them both as they rise towards its shining glow.

A comfortable silence blankets the two of you while you listen to the soft buzz of the people around you. You squeeze his hand softly and he squeezes back just as you open your mouth to speak.

“She still wants to fuck you.” He smiles

“Shut up.”

Thank you for reading! I'd love to know what you thought about this fic! Leave a comment or send an ask to let me know! ❣️

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 months ago

Text

The Best Interruption.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here x

authors note - seems like the perfect idea to me so enjoy huns 💗

word count - 1k

in which, harrys been in his at home office for the majority of the day, and your little one is getting antsy after not spending time with there best friend, so when he’s typing away and answering emails, they stroll into the office, crawling onto his lap.

Harry sat at his home office desk, surrounded by a sea of papers and instruments. He'd been cooped up in there for most of the day, lost in the creative whirlwind of composing new music.

And it was now nearing two o clock.

With a cup of tea steaming gently beside him, Harry's fingers danced across the keyboard as he typed out an email to his manager, Jeff. Each keystroke was deliberate, each word carefully chosen to convey his vision for the upcoming project. He glanced out the window, watching the world go by outside, a brief distraction from the task at hand.

Lost in the melodies swirling around his mind, Harry remained unaware as the door to his home office cracked open ever so slightly. His focus was firmly fixed on the task at hand, oblivious to the world outside his creative bubble.

Unseen by her immersed father, his two-year-old daughter, her dummy nestled in her mouth and her favourite baby blanket trailing behind her, ventured into the room.

With careful steps, she approached his chair, her small fingers reaching out to touch the soft fabric of his joggers.

Quietly, she stood beside him, her eyes wide with curiosity as she watched him work. She held her bottle of warm milk tightly under her arm, her little face a picture of innocence and wonder.

Finally, as if sensing her presence, Harry's gaze flickered downward, and he found himself met with the sight of his daughter standing beside him.

With a chuckle, Harry glanced down at his daughter, her giggles filling the room like sweet music.

"What are y’doing in Daddy's office, you little minx?" he teased, his voice filled with affection.

Giggling even more, his daughter squirmed in his arms, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Daddy's office fun," she declared, her words slightly muffled by her dummy.

Harry smiled down at her, his heart swelling with love.

"Well, I suppose you're right about that," he admitted, gently adjusting her on his lap. "But s’nearly nap time f’little munchkins like you."

She pouted playfully, but Harry could see the telltale signs of tiredness in her drooping eyelids.

"Nooo, not bedtime," she protested weakly, her hand reaching up to play with the cross necklace around his neck.

Chuckling softly, Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest.

"Yes, bedtime, m’sunshine," he murmured, tucking her baby blanket around her. "But we can have some cuddles first, okay?"

Settling against him, his daughter nodded sleepily, her eyes fluttering closed as she nestled into the warmth of his embrace. Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head, feeling her soft breaths against his skin.

"Where's Mama?" he asked softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

"In kitchen," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper, a sleepy smile playing on her lips.

Harry chuckled, the sound filling the room with warmth.

"F’course she is," he said fondly. "She's always busy taking care of us, isn't she?"

As his daughter drifted off to sleep in his arms, Harry couldn't help but smile at the sight of her peaceful face. Gently stroking her hair, he whispered, "Y’my little angel, you know that?"

She mumbled something incoherent in response, her thumb finding its way to her mouth as she snuggled closer to him.

Leaning back in his chair, Harry let out a contented sigh.

"You're right, sweetheart," he murmured, more to himself than to her. “S’is nice, just you and me."

She stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open at the sound of his voice. With a sleepy nod, she spoke the words,

"Milky."

Harry's smile widened as he reached for her bottle, a warm sense of nostalgia washing over him.

"You want your bot-bot, huh?" he asked gently, his fingers wrapping around the familiar shape of the bottle.

His daughter nodded again, her eyes bright with anticipation as she watched him prepare her drink.

"Alright, m’sunshine," Harry said softly, lifting the bottle to her lips. "Here you go."

She grasped the bottle with both hands, her tiny fingers curling around it as she took small sips, her cheeks flushing with contentment.

Watching her drink, Harry couldn't help but marvel at how quickly she was growing up. It seemed like just yesterday she was a tiny bundle in his arms, completely dependent on him for everything.

Though his daughter was perfectly capable of holding it herself, he liked the feeling of being needed, of taking care of her like he did when she was a baby, so he helped her hold the bottle, and the notsalgia hit him like a train.

She glanced up at him, her eyes sparkling with gratitude as she leaned into his touch.

"Tank ou, Daddy," she murmured, her voice soft and sleepy.

Harry smiled, his heart swelling with love. "Anything f’you, m’sunshine," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

Harry didn’t know how long it had been but it wasn’t long before his little mini-me was snoozing against his chest, soft snores falling from her mouth.

It must have been about another ten maybe fifteen minutes.

"Harry, have you seen—" your voice spoke as you entered the room, but he quickly put a finger to his lips, his expression a silent plea for silence.

"Shhh," he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. "Look."

Your eyes followed his gaze, and as you glanced down, you breath caught in your throat. There, fast asleep against Harry's chest, was your daughter, her dummy nestled in her mouth, an empty bottle of milk resting on his desk.

A smile spread across your face as you stepped closer, your heart swelling with love at the sight of your family.

"Oh, bubba," you whispered softly, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from your daughter's face.

Harry smiled up at you, his eyes shining with pride and affection.

"I think she wanted t’help Daddy with his work," he said quietly, his voice filled with warmth.

Your daughter stirred slightly in her sleep, mumbling something incomprehensible as she snuggled closer to her father.

"Hey," you whispered, leaning in closer to your husband and pushing some hair out of his face, "I'm sorry if she interrupted your work."

Harry shook his head, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Why are you sorry?" he asked, reaching out to stroke his daughter's cheek tenderly.

"She's the best interruption."

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rafeandonlyrafe · 10 months ago

Text

executive orders

words: 3.8k

warnings: 18+ only, ceo!rafe, assistant!reader, mean!rafe but equally mean!reader lol, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pretend marriage (like fake dating but fake marriage hehe)

“so…” the woman says, heels clicking down the pristine hallway as you quickly follow. “as you were told in the interview process, mr. cameron is a very particular man. as his personal assistant, your focus is more on his well-being than the business.”

“okay, i understand.” you nod. you find the whole thing odd. the interview process where you didn't actually meet the man you'd be the personal assistant to. his semi nondescript job. ceo. of some company named after him, but you don't know the specifics on what his role actually includes.

“just know…” she pauses outside of the large door leading into the room. “this isn't going to be an easy job. it's why you're making a lot of money.”

“okay.” you say again. the more you learn, the more concerned you are, but you're willing to try, even if just for one day.

“and you're paid for through the cfo. mr. cameron does not have firing rights no matter what he says.”

you're not sure what she means, but it becomes very apparent when the moment you step through the door, the man you presume to be mr. cameron let's out a growl.

“serena, i told you i don't need a fucking babysitter!” you turn around, but the door has already been shut behind you. you can hear serenas heels clicking quickly down the hallway. you had completely forgotten her name in the stress of your first day, but you commit it to memory before turning to the ceo.

“hello, sir.” you say quietly. “im y/n.”

“i don't need you.” he grunts out before focusing on his computer, typing rather angry and aggressively. you stand frozen, waiting.

“i said i don't need you. leave. you're fired.” mr. cameron says.

“i um… i don't think you can fire me. sorry, sir.”

his fingers pause as he looks up at you, seeming to finally really see you as his eyes move down then back up your body. you weren't sure what to wear so you're dressed in a black work dress with long sleeves and a pair of flats. under his watchful eye, you wish you would have worn something less form fitting.

“i hate being called sir.” he says.

“okay, mr. cameron then.” you take a few shuffling steps forward.

“rafe.” he shakes his head. “just rafe. mr. cameron is my fucking dad and he's dead.”

your instinct is to say sorry for his loss, but you can't find the words, which ultimately seems to be the right thing as rafe hums then turns back to his computer screen.

you watch him work for a few minutes, occasionally looking around the sparsely decorated office. you swear every time you look away, rafes eyes move up to look at you, but by the time your gaze travels back to him, he's back typing on his computer.

“goddamn it.” he groans out. “don't just stand there all day. if you're gonna be here and i can't fire you, you might as well sit down.”

“oh!” it takes you a minute to realize he's talking to you as his eyes don't stray away from the screen, but then you're quickly moving to sit on the chair positioned on the other side of his desk.

you sit again, watching rafe, watching the clock, watching the view out the window. “what would you like for lunch, si-rafe?”

“whatever.” he waves his hand. “it's not your job to get it. someone will bring lunch to us.”

“oh.” you nod, becoming increasingly more aware that you're not really sure what your job is.

just like rafe said, someone brings in lunch at exactly 12:30, one tray for you and one for rafe.

when he closes his computer, you think that now will finally be the time to talk, but he eats in silence. “so-”

“no small talk.” rafe says. “i hate that shit.”

“well, what is it you'd like me to do then? just sit here? at least give me a task.”

“fine.” rafe grunts out. “when you're finished eating you can read through this report.” he tosses a thick three ringed binder onto the desk in front of you.

“fine.” you argue back, quickly scarfing down your food before grabbing the binder.

you read through the report. you have no clue what the numbers mean, but you do find a couple punctuation mistakes and highlight them. rafe seems surprised you have any notes at all, his eyebrows raising when you grab the marker from his desk.

“there.” you place the binder down once you reach the last page. its tedious work, but at least it's something other than utter silence.

“great.” rafe takes the binder and tosses it into the trash can.

“hey!”

“those were numbers from four years ago.” you can see the smirk on rafes features, his amusement at getting you to do something completely pointless.

“you're a real dick, you know?” you say, blurting the words out before you can think of the consequences, it's not like you want to keep the job anyways.

rafe sits silently, but his eyes are on you, hands frozen as you continue on.

“you should hear the way people talk about you. everyone is afraid of you, which you may think makes you a macho boss, but it just makes you a shitty guy to work for. no wonder you have to pay everyone two times more than any other company around here, they need that for putting up with your rudeness.” you rant, suddenly sucking in air as your words come to an end.

“it's 5pm. done for the day. ill walk you out.” rafe stands, but you move quicker, pushing the doors open and leaving him to walk behind.

you stop when you see serena and the cfo quietly chatting. you open your mouth to say you quit when rafe speaks from behind you.

“i like this one. make sure she's here tomorrow by 9am.”

you turn and look to him, but he's already walking away.

you weren't planning on showing back up, but serena is a convincing woman.

“good morning, rafe.” you place a drink carrier down onto the corner of his desk, plucking out your mocha before schooching the rest towards him. “i didn't know what you like. i got a hot black coffee, a caramel frappe and the a cappuccino.”

rafe stares at the drinks before picking up the frappe. you smile, you should have predicted that despite his hard exterior, rafe liked a sweet drink.

serena gave you the company card, saying to use it for any and all expenses, even grocery's or home decor, she didn't care, as long as you entered the building by 9 am tomorrow.

“i know you hate small talk, but you'll have to get over it. what does this company even do?” you take a sip of your mocha, the taste chocolatey on your tongue.

“we are a development company. real estate all across the world. we also manage construction.”

“oh.” you frown. “that's more boring than i thought.”

rafe let's out a soft chuckle, pleasant sounding to your ears.

“everything just seems so secretive.” you shrug.

“i think they didn't want you to know a lot in case you turned down the job. you're the longest an assistant has lasted.”

“and what…” you lean in, ignoring that it's only your second day. “exactly am i supposed to do?”

“just… keep me in check.” rafe shrugs. “i have a tendency to get angry. bad news will get passed through you. you're here to be a sounding board, where i can vent and bounce ideas off of.”

“i make 100k a year for that?” you scoff.

“i think 50 of that is just for dealing with me.”

you laugh along with rafe. maybe you'll end up lasting an entire week.

-- two months later --

“are you free this weekend?” rafe asks.

“uh, yeah, why?” you question. you've learned rafe likes when you stand up to him, speak your mind and not let him push you around like he does everyone else. he's come to respect you for it, and it's made work much easier.

“im needed in new york city. id like for you to come with me. as my assistant.”

“sure, ill start looking for hotels.” you open up your laptop.

“spare no cost. i want somewhere nice.”

you roll your eyes dramatically. “of course you do.”

you already knew to look only at 5 star hotels, the most expensive of the lot. despite the short notice, you find two connecting suites that will work for you and rafe.

“and how are we getting there?” you ask. “want me to talk to jeffery about taking the private jet?”

“yup, i want to fly into laguardia, not jfk.”

“got it.” you nod, finding the correct number in your phone before stepping out to talk. you confirm all the details, jotting down times in the notes app on your phone.

you stop by after the phone call to update serena of your plans, learning she's a secretary of sort for the whole company, really the number two right behind rafe.

“hey girl.” you smile. “heading to nyc with mr. cameron for the weekend.”

“oh, good.” she sighs happily. “he's been needing to go out there.”

“yeah.” you shrug. “if you say so!” you keep yourself firmly out of the business side, just like she told you your first day here.

“make sure you do something fun while you're there too. while he's in meetings you could see times square, or check out central park.”

“i definitely will! i want to see the cherry blossoms if they're still in bloom.”

“sounds fun.” serena nods before her desk phone begins to read. “sorry, gotta get this.”

“see ya.” you wave as you walk back to rafes office.

“all good?” he questions.

“laguardia, just as you want.” you smile, sitting back at your upgraded chair.

“don't know what id do without ya.” rafe says.

“don't be nice to me.” you scrunch your name up. “it's weird.”

“how were the cherry blossoms?” rafe asks.

“most of them still in bloom, actually.” you say with a soft smile. you ended up taking a lot of pictures along with exploring the rest of the park.

“nice.” he hums. “did you bring an evening dress?”

“no. and you didn't tell me i was supposed to.” you say.

“well… i would appreciate it if you joined me at dinner tonight. it's with a very important client who um… may be under the impression that im traveling with my wife.”

“your- your wife?” your eyes widen. “you want me to lie about being your wife?”

“just for tonight. id really appreciate it.” rafe looks at you with a softness in his eyes. “please.”

“okay… but i don't have an evening gown… or anything fancy.”

“let me take you shopping then.” rafe pulls out his phone. “there's got to be a nice store near us.”

you place your hand on top of rafes phone. “ill find a place.”

you end up finding a formal store only a couple blocks away. you decide to walk, rafe keeping close to you, glaring at anyone who even glances at you for too long.

you make it to the store without any interruptions, and rafe quickly points out the kinds of dresses that will fit the restaurant before standing back to let you choose.

“you wanna watch me try them on, husband?” you ask rafe, following the associate with an armful of dresses back towards the private changing rooms.

“of course.” rafe follows behind you, eyes glancing down your figure. he can't wait to see you in a gorgeous fitted dress.

when you step out in the first dress, rafe swears he feels his heart skip a beat. “you're getting that one.”

“you sure?” you look in the mirror, twirling around to look at the dropped back. “i don't know if this color looks good on me.”

“it looks good on you.” rafe says. “but by all means, try on more. ill buy you multiple.”

rafe ends up buying you every single dress you try on except for one that's too loose and doesn't fit well. you insist you only need one, but you're not going to argue with your boss wanting to spend money on you.

you end up choosing the first one you tried on to go to the dinner with rafe. your hands shake slightly, not sure what to expect. rafe sees it, hesitating before wrapping your hand in his.

“it'll be fine. you can just… just be quiet for the most part. ill do all the talking.”

“okay.” you squeeze his hand back, not used to the physical contact with rafe, but finding it surprisingly comfortable.

you follow him into the restaurant, everyone else dressed to the nines, perfect hair and makeup on the women, the men with the shiniest shoes. “it's really beautiful in here.” you whisper.

“wait till you taste the food… wifey.” rafe says, making you both laugh.

“ah, mr. and mrs. cameron.” the man says in a slightly accented voice as you both shake his hand, as well as the associate next to him. “so glad to meet the both of you. we appreciate getting into business with a true family man.”

“of course.” you smile, putting on your best acting performance. “we are so excited to start our family soon.”

“we must see the wedding photos. my wife-” the man puts a proud hand on his chest. “is a wedding dress designer.”

“oh.” you frown. “i would love to show you, but we haven't gotten them back yet.” you smile at rafe. “we’re newlyweds.”

“ah, cheers to the beginning of a lovely marriage then.” he raises his glass to clink with the others at the table.

“please, kiss! you must after a toast.” the associate says.

you turn to rafe, glancing down to look at his lips. it would totally give you away to refuse, so you take a deep breath and lean into in, pressing your lips together in a quick kiss. it lasts only a moment, but you swear you feel a spark, a tug to continue kissing him.

rafe doesn't bring it up until later, as your riding the elevator back up to your hotel room. “you did great. im sorry about the kiss.”

“it wasn't bad.” you giggle softly, slightly drunk on the wine that was served.

“im glad you think that.” rafe smiles softly. “you'll make a wonderful wife to a very lucky man someday.”

“maybe we could…” you swallow harshly, the alcohol encouraging your words you know you shouldn't say. “maybe we could keep pretending. just for tonight. and then when we get back to the office things can be back to normal.”

“and what does continuing to pretend to be husband and wife entail?” rafe questions, taking a step closer to you.

“more kissing. more… more.”

rafes lips are against yours suddenly, ignoring the elevator doors sliding open in favor of his mouth pushing against yours, lips gliding harshly over each others. the kiss is the exact opposite of the restaurant, whereas it was quick and innocent, this kiss is full of fire and passion.

the elevators slide shut and begin to head back down to the lobby. “shit.” rafe groans against your lips, jamming the button towards your floor. “sorry baby.”

“just… keep kissing me until someone gets in.” rafe listens to your pleas, kissing you until the elevator comes to a halt. even then, he doesn't move far away, keeping himself stood possessively over you, your back against the elevator wall.

you smile awkwardly at the three men who enter before turning your face into rafes chest, focused on the hand that has slipped around your waist.

the elevator stops and the three men get off. the second it's moving again, rafe is back kissing you, stumbling out when your doors open as to not make the same mistake as last time.

“shit.” rafe groans, having to fumble in his pocket to get the key card for the door.

you let out a soft giggle, pressing kisses to his neck and jaw until the door swings open and you're able to step in the room.

“are you sure?” rafe asks, closing and locking the door behind you.

“im sure.” you nod. “this is just… pretend. let's do what husbands and wives do.”

rafe moves you towards the bed, backing you up until you sit down on the plush spread, decorated exactly like yours in the connecting room, but this bedding still smells like rafe from the night before.

he sinks to his knees, such a strong, dominant man on the floor for you as he takes off your heels, carefully slipping them off your soles before setting them to the side.

“thank you.” you say softly. rafe looks up at you before leaning forward, pushing the slit of your dress open to press kisses to your knees, and then thighs, moving up until the dress no longer allows him to.

“i need you to take this off.” he says roughly.

you nod, shifting yourself to stand as rafe also rises. you turn your back to him, his hands moving to your waist before moving up until he's cupping your chest over the shiny material.

“rafe-” you gasp out as he squeezes, his large palms enveloping your entire breast.

rafe holds his hands there for a moment longer before moving them to your back, unzipping your dress and watching it fall to the floor. you're in just a small pair of lingerie, having bought it for yourself yesterday in a boutique.

“shit.” rafe curses again. “you're… you're so beautiful.”

you turn around to kiss him again, his hands now against your bare skin as he explores, moving all along your sides and back.

your own hands get busy as well, fingers deftly unbuttoning his shirt until you can push it off his shoulders. you pull away to see his muscles, hints of which you've seen when he's rolled up his sleeves or wore a tighter than normal shirt, but now you can finally really see and appreciate them.

“lay down, please.” rafe says.

you move to lay on his bed, head resting against the pillows as rafe crawls over your body. his mouth finds yours again as his hand delves under your back to unhook your bra. he pulls it away from your body as his lips leave yours.

he's only off your skin for a moment before his mouth is wrapped around your nipple, tongue swirling around in circles as his hand holds your other breast.

“oh, shit.” it's your turn to curse as your eyes squeeze closed, hand coming to the back of rafes head, feeling his short hair as he sucks on your nipple before kissing all over the swell of your breast. he switches sides, wanting to taste all of you.

you lift your hips when his hand grabs onto your underwear, allowing him to pull it all the way down until you kick it off the bed. rafe pulls away to look between your legs, letting out a soft moan when you part your thighs and he can see how wet you already are.

“beautiful.” he says, eyes closing like it's too much to look at you as his hand skirts down your stomach before finding your wetness, finger circling around your entrance before gently pushing in.

“kiss me, please.” you take rafes face in your hands, guiding your mouths back together as his finger carefully thrusts in and out. he slowly increases the speed until you're whining against his lips for more.

rafe twists his hand so his thumb can rub over your clit as you let out a moan, hips pressing up, seeking more.

“i need you.” rafe pulls his hand away. “i need you so bad.”

you nod quickly, giving him one more quick kiss before he pulls away to take off his pants and underwear. you bite your lip once hes completely nude, his cock standing tall and hard away from his body. you want to taste him, want to see what it feels like to have his cock sit heavy on your tongue, but you need him inside of you more.

“i have a condom somewhere…” he looks around.

“you don't need to wear one. I'm on birth control.” you can feel your cheeks blush just at the suggestion. “it's… it's not what a husband and wife would do.”

“okay.” rafe doesn't need any more convincing, crawling back over your body. “do you want me like this?”

you flip over quickly so you're on top, rafes back now pressed into the mattress. you grab onto his cock, giving him a few quick strokes before you line him up with your cunt, sinking down with a synchronous moan.

you keep your eyes on rafes face as you begin to move, hips grinding up and then back, your hands sat firmly on his chest to help you move.

you're able to grind your clit down against his skin every time you sink fully down, just adding to the pleasure. he's stretching you out in the most pleasurable way, just enough to feel it without being painful.

“so fucking beautiful.” rafe says, reaching up to hold onto your tits as they bounce with your body.

you put all your energy into riding him, knowing this might be your only chance to, but hoping it's not, hoping you can feel him inside of you again.

“i- baby.” rafe grunts out, hands moving down to your hips. he helps you move as your legs quickly tire, not used to this position.

“you feel so good.” you whine out eyes sliding shut as rafes hips begin to push up, lifting you with every thrust, spearing his cock even further into you.

“im-im close.” you admit with a gasp, his cock hitting your sweet spot every time.

“cum for me baby, please.” rafe moves one of his hands to your lower stomach, thumb reaching down to rub over your clit.

you cry out, back arching as you instantly cum, not needing any more stimulation as your body shakes before flopping forward, falling against rafes chest.

he gives you a minute, as long as he can hold back before flipping you onto your back. it takes him only a few thrusts to cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

rafe flops down next to you, both breathing heavily, skin sheened in sweat.

you wait for a moment. to see if he's going to say anything. when he doesn't, you scooch closer to him, placing your hand on his cheek and bringing him in for a kiss, not yet done pretending.

-- four years later --

“you remember the first time we came here?” rafe asks, stepping into the restaurant with his hand wrapped around yours. it's redecorated some, but is still familiar.

“how could i forget.” you smile at him. “where i first pretended to be your wife.”

“well, at least you don't have to pretend anymore,” rafe says, swiping his thumb over the diamond ring on your finger “mrs. cameron.”

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

WOULD LOOOVE to see badass reader get jealous over someone flirting with spencer

ty for requesting ♡ —spencer reassures you when he catches the eye of a receptionist at the ocean city precinct. fem!reader, 1.3k

Hotch lives on coffee lately. Any type from any source, he doesn't care what it tastes like so long as it keeps him awake. You're similar, in that even if you hated it, you'd keep it to yourself.

But you're frowning in disgust at your cup. Eyebrows wrinkled, lips in a fierce line. Hotch sighs and puts his hand on the back of your chair. "Are you alright?" he asks.

You've never told him otherwise. "Fine. Thank you."

"There's water in my bag," he offers. You won't meet his eyes. You probably have a headache. "And aspirin."

For as long as he's known you and worked with you, you've been as you are now, quiet, stern, with little sense of humour at work and not much more outside of it. The only evidence of your soft heart is how you work like a dog, and how you treat your coworker, Spencer. He's your achilles heel, your tender spot in all the tough scarring. Hotch knows there's nothing anyone can do to make you feel better if they aren't him.

Hotch turns on the spot to look for him. The case you're working on here in Maryland has hit a lul, and exhausted faces peek out from behind their desks at Hotch's looking. He searches for the short mop of brown hair that's required and finds it in an unusual place.

Spencer has been waylaid by a receptionist. Glimmering eyes, shiny silver fingernails that tap the desk in front of her as she speaks, the receptionist clearly has Spencer hanging on. He takes a step back and she doubles down, her storytelling audible from across the room.

"You'll have to see it for yourself, Dr. Reid, it's a sight!"

Hotch looks at you from the corner of his eye. "I see."

"Don't know what you're talking about," you mutter. You stand and tip your coffee into the bin, letting the cup fall in after it morosely.

"Why don't you go and help Reid?" Hotch asks.

"Help Reid what?" you ask. Your tone betrays you —jealousy, sure, that slight crisp to your words that must hurt on the way out, but worse is the weakness as your sentence ends. You're jealous, and it's upsetting you. "I don't think I want to help him with that."

Derek swings into the sequestered space you've been using to operate and beams at you like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"Isn't it surprising how quiet he can be? Years of catching bad guys and he can't say no to a pretty woman," Derek says, giving you a knowing look.

You and Derek have a half-hearted rivalry in that he loves to flirt and you disapprove. Your soft spot extends solely to Spencer no matter how hard Derek tries to sway you, though as you and Spencer have gotten closer, you've softened.

Hotch thinks that Derek's teasing might erase any progress that's been made.

"Morgan," he says reproachfully.

Derek makes a who, me? face but quickly gives in. "Why don't you go save him?" he asks you.

"He doesn't need saving. Spencer is a grown man who can make his own choices," you say quietly.

Hotch bites his tongue. Thankfully, Derek speaks up, without any teasing. "Spencer's been expected to know how to do things without any help since he was a kid. I really think he just doesn't know how to walk away."

You look down at your hands. Hotch has been doing his job for a long time, and he can guess what you're thinking from a misaligned finger. You don't feel like you measure up to the woman at reception. You're insecure about Spencer's affection for you, because you can't understand why he likes you so much to begin with. Hotch has thought it about Haley, Derek of Savannah. It's a very human doubt.

"Spencer tends to stand straight," Hotch says, bringing the lip of his paper cup up. "Right now, he's leaning away."

It's in as simple terms as he can put it without outright telling you that he really, truly believes that Spencer wouldn't bother with anyone who isn't you. That Spencer loves you in the young, all encompassing way, even though neither of you seems to have realised the depth of it yet.

Confident, no air of the girl frowning down at her hands, you leave the nook to approach Spencer from behind.

"Hi," Hotch hears you say, "you okay?"

Spencer visibly relaxes. "Hey, I'm fine. Uh, Y/N, this is Anabelle. Annabelle, this is my partner, Y/N."

"Partner?" Derek asks.

It's news to Hotch. Perhaps news to you, if the way you take his hand is any hint. It's like you've never held it before, and Hotch knows you have, he's seen you linking pinkies under tables.

You strangle his fingers with yours. Spencer doesn't move an inch.

"She was just telling me about the sightseeing you can do here. Have you ever seen the world's longest worm on a string?" he asks you.

"Hi, Annabelle," you say, turning to Spencer with poorly masked whiplash. "We're gonna try narrowing the search radius."

"Oh, right." Spencer lets go of your hand in favour of putting a hand behind your shoulder, saying his thank yous and goodbyes to Annabelle before guiding you back to the makeshift BAU base camp. "What took you so long?"

"What took me so long?" you ask.

"I thought you liked me!" Spencer says, teasing, his voice pitching higher. "I didn't know how to tell her I've already read the pamphlet she was quoting. She seemed nice though, right?"

"She seemed nice, Spence," you agree, a little wobbly still but a thousand times less sullen than before. "I– of course I like you, you know I like you. Right?"

Hotch is proud of Spencer for how remarkably he responds. Spencer puts his body between you and Hotch and Derek where they're standing to offer you the privacy you prefer, dropping his voice to match your tentativeness. "Yeah, I know. I was kidding. I think they'd have to reassess my position on this team if I didn't know that." He grabs your arm, thumb pressing into the crook of your elbow. "Are you okay?"

"I thought maybe she was flirting with you."

Spencer shrugs uneasily. "Maybe. It wouldn't make a difference to me. Do you know that?"

Your head dips down. Hotch can't hear what you say, honestly, he doesn't want to know. Eavesdropping on the people he cares about in their unhappy moments isn't something he makes a habit of, but it's hard not to hear Spencer's response. "Don't say that," he murmurs. "That's not true… We'll talk about it later, okay?"

You clear your throat. "Yeah. Whatever you want."

Derek doesn't hide that he's been listening very well, pulling a crime scene document up to his eye line as you and Spencer pull apart. Your eyebrows furrow into a glare, but it's Spencer who says, "What?"

Hotch bites back a smile. Derek grins and holds his hands up in surrender.

"Just nice to see you taking care of my favourite girl," he smarms.

"Stop. You're extremely unprofessional," Spencer says, helping you into your seat unnecessarily.

"And you're not?" Derek asks, gesturing to his hand where it lingers behind your shoulders.

You finally chip in, apparently back to your regular self. "Only one of us was responsible for a unit wide HR mandate about inappropriate behaviour."

"You cannot keep bringing that up."

"Why not?"

Hotch takes a sip of his tepid coffee. He'd rather not get involved.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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fairyysoup · 1 year ago

Text

his hands

pairing(s): hairdresser!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: How do you make getting a haircut an erotic experience? You have Eddie Munson as your hairdresser, of course.

cw: explicit, smut, unprotected piv sex, mirror sex, workplace sex, hand kink, choking, dumbification, dom!eddie, touch-starved!reader, semi-sort-of subspace happenings, referring to genitals with gendered pronouns, slight body worship, getting weirdly horny over a head massage, sexual tension, negative self talk, hair cut/style mentioned but no description of hair color/type, the aftercare is the haircut lol, implied 90s au, eddie's like 30, reader's age unspecified, eddie is employee of the month in my heart, not proofread, no beta we die like men

a/n: this is weird. and came from an interesting experience i had at the hair salon. and yes that is corpse's hand in that pic i didn't want to spend all day looking for a header pic shut up shut up shut up

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

Your hands twitch on the copy of Elle magazine in your lap. The familiar waiting area of your local salon has new furniture, which still smells a bit like the cellophane it came wrapped in, and hasn’t been worn out by patrons just yet. You’d asked for your usual stylist, Melissa. Except, you haven’t been here in so long, and apparently Melissa doesn’t work here anymore.

“We have a new stylist in her place,” the greeter at the front desk told you kindly. “I could fit you in if you’d like that same station?”

The station doesn’t matter to you; they all look the same and have the same tools. Obviously, when it comes to getting your hair cut, the stylist makes the difference. But, since you’re a couple months too late to catch up with Melissa, a new stylist is who you’ll be working with.

The PA still plays some sort of weird pop-rock fusion that mixes Nat King Cole with Billy Idol, but you just try to focus on it to keep your leg from bouncing. You always get anxious like this when you come in for an appointment, even though you always tell yourself the same thing. It’s just hair. If you don’t like it, it’ll grow back. Or, if worst comes to worst, you could always shave it.

You hear your name being called, and you look up to the person who’d just approached the waiting area around the partition that blocks off the styling area. You blink, your mind going fuzzy as you try to make sense of what you see.

“Looks like I’ll be cutting your hair today,” the man standing at the end of the row of chairs says, with a grin that puts boyish dimples on his cheeks. “I’m Eddie.”

Eddie the Hairdresser is a bit more than you can handle right now. Between his long, curly hair, and the shirt he wears that gives you a view of the tattoos crawling up his arms, you think your knees might already be made out of jelly as you try to stand. But then he sticks out his hand for you to shake, and he’s wearing big, chunky rings that glint in the light, and you think you might swoon like a Victorian damsel.

“I’m, uh–” you begin intelligently, as you fit your hand into his big one. He squeezes just the tiniest bit and smirks at you. “I– I’m trying to, uh–”

“First time?” Eddie asks you with a tilt of his head. His brown eyes crease at the edges with mirth.

“Oh, um, no,” you mutter, looking everywhere but at his dimples. He has a tattoo on his neck of a dragon. You stare at it for a moment too long. “I used to come and see Melissa, forever ago.”

“Oh! Yeah, Melissa was great. She trained me,” Eddie starts jabbering as he tilts his head and leads you around the partition. You’re met with the smell of hairspray and the sound of blow dryers getting louder. “She’s a hard act to follow, but I hope I can do well enough. Let’s get you started with a wash, hm?”

You smile as he winks at you conspiratorially. You always feel a little bit awkward as you sit in the chair for the wash sinks, but Eddie ushers you into it with a little wave of his hand and gently– more gently than you can remember even Melissa being– lifts the ends of your hair and places a soft towel around your shoulders.

“What kept you away all this time?” Eddie asks pleasantly as he tests the water temperature. “Melissa’s been gone for a while.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I was working a lot,” you stumble into an explanation, your cheeks heating up a bit. It’s hard not to feel like you need to repent for not coming in to get a trim every month. “Last time I came in, I got my hair cut really short, so it wasn’t like I needed to come in for a trim for a long time, and by the time I really needed one it was long enough that I could do it myself… so, I just kept doing that.”

“So, what are we doing today?” Eddie inquires as his fingertips brush along your temples to tuck your hair back behind your ears and into the wash basin. With gentle prompting, he tilts your head back into the bin and begins to wet the ends of your hair.

“I figured it’s time I go short again,” you tell him, more confident than you really feel about it. It was a split second decision, one that you made because the reflection in the mirror was looking back at you with such a dead expression that you decided you needed a change in a bad way. For a lighter note, you supplement, “I’m tired of brushing tangles out of my hair every morning, and the other day I had a whole bird’s nest at the back of my neck, y’know.”

“Pssh, I know all about tangles. You saw my hair,” Eddie chuckles as the lukewarm water touches your scalp. Goosebumps rise on your arms while he rambles on, “I have to comb my hair wet or else I look like I got electrocuted. I never used to care about that sort of thing before I went to school for this, but once you start learning about proper treatment it’s kind of hard to ignore. I used to wash my hair with bar soap. Dry as hell, no conditioner. I’m surprised I got it long to begin with.”

You find yourself smiling just thinking about it. “Bar soap? With those curls?”

“Don’t tell anyone, my reputation will be ruined,” Eddie leans down and whispers to you while he reaches for a bottle of shampoo. You hear a crack of a bottle cap, and then his hands are in your hair again, working the sweet smelling soap into your roots. “I’m trying to get employee of the month, but they’re never gonna give it to me if they know I used to sabotage my own hair with Irish Spring.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you tell him sweetly, but you’re barely paying attention to his words anymore. His fingers are pressing into areas on your head that haven’t had a proper massage in forever, and months of tension headaches are being brought to the forefront of your mind.

You never consider how oddly intimate having someone wash your hair is until you’re in the thick of it. Eddie’s thumbs massage circles into your occipitals with just a perfect amount of pressure, and the muscles down the back of your neck slowly melt and relax, moving with the swell of his fingertips. You suddenly feel very relaxed and very sleepy, and your eyelids drift closed as Eddie’s thumbs trace the line of your skull up to your hairline.

It even takes a moment for you to tune into the fact that he’s humming. Under his breath, he’s singing along to the notes of the song on the PA. He’s doing it in such a way that you’re sure he’s not even aware of it, himself, and you’d comment on it if you weren’t afraid that you’d embarrass him. His fingers are massaging circles around your temples now, and while you’re trying to focus on the sound of him harmonizing with the music, your mind is again trying to distract you with the feeling developing at the base of your spine. A ticklish, warm feeling spreads between your hips, disrupting the lull you find yourself in and forcing you to blink your eyes open.

Oh, no. We’re not doing that right now.

You can’t say you’re surprised that this is your response. His hands are all over your head and you haven’t been touched by anyone in… well, a very long time, to say the least. You’re probably a little starved for it, all things considered. But this is really the wrong time and place to be getting turned on by a guy’s touch.

You shift in your seat, trying not to be too obvious about it when Eddie pulls his hands away and begins rinsing your hair again. Crossing your legs would be a dead giveaway, but the warm feeling is turning into a subtle throb between your legs, and Eddie’s hands are back on your head, now gently combing the conditioner through the length of your hair as though he’s petting you.

After a few torturous minutes of trying to ignore the blooming arousal deep in your gut, Eddie cuts the water and wraps your hair in the towel to secure it.

“Now comes the hard part,” Eddie says, probably not meaning to make it sound so suggestive, but your mind seems to be taking its sweet time loitering in the gutter.

You stare dazedly up at the ceiling. Now is the hard part?

Eddie leads you to what used to be Melissa’s station, and swings the swivel chair around for you with a flourish. “Step into my office, sweetheart. I’ll get you all dressed up in a sexy robe and everything.”

You stifle a giggle as you slide into the seat. His “office” is one table in a row of other tables, and two feet away an older woman is getting her hair bleached by a girl with an undercut. As Eddie spins you around, the stylist shoots him a look.

“He’s a shameless flirt,” she tells you, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Eddie lays a smock across your front and buttons it at the back of your neck.

“I’ll have you know, I’ve been minding my manners very well,” Eddie huffs with feigned indignation as he unwraps your hair and tosses the towel onto the table in front of you. He still winks at you in the mirror when he leans around you to pick up a comb. “So far.”

You can’t help the way that your jaw clenches. He’s really not going to make this easy on you. You wonder if he knows where your mind has been for the last ten minutes.

Eddie moves around to the back of your chair and presses on a lever to raise it up, but nothing happens.

“Dammit,” Eddie curses under his breath, and turns to his coworker, who’s still loading tinfoil into the woman’s hair until she looks like something from Close Encounters. “I can’t believe you gave me the crap chair.”

“Early birds get the good chairs,” the stylist replies.

Eddie sighs and turns back to you, and finds you looking at him curiously in the mirror. “This is the only broken chair in the whole salon, and everyone hates it, so it tends to move around. You never know if you’ll get the crap chair.”

“That’s sabotage,” you giggle.

“I know! So I have to bend down to style you, I’m sorry.”

“I think I can handle it.” You watch him give you a look in the mirror that makes you shift in your seat again.

“So,” he begins, looking down at your head as he begins detangling your hair. “We’re going short?”

“That’s the plan,” you say with a puff of your chest. Please, god, don’t let it be horrible.

“How short?” he prompts, eyeing you in the mirror. “Shoulder length? Close cropped?”

You reach up a slightly shaky hand and pinch the length that you want between two fingers. “Here’s good.”

Eddie nods, looking somewhat pleased. “Are we doing layers?”

“Yeah, I think layers would be good for the long term.”

“Gives you more flexibility,” he agrees. He picks up a pair of scissors and begins measuring out the length that you want. “I’ll start with the length and then we’ll move to bangs, all right?”

“That… sounds good.” You’re temporarily discombobulated by Eddie taking the sides of your head and tilting your head down just the slightest bit.

“Stay just like that for me, okay?” he says quietly.

You blink down at the table in front of you, feeling your mouth go dry. “No problem.” Your hands nervously twitch beneath the cover of the smock across your body.

He goes back to humming along with the music on the PA, and you don’t have the heart to interrupt him. You’re trying to focus on anything but the nerves in your system and the way his touch keeps making you want to jump out of your seat.

After a moment, he stops humming and dusts a bit of hair off of your shoulder. “There we go. Good girl.”

You blink up at Eddie in the mirror, and then see the transformation from long hair to short on your head.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks, leaning down to pinch the ends of the front and measure the evenness of the length. You stare at his fingers, and the tattoo of a bat just above his thumb on his left hand.

“Ten pounds lighter,” you joke. It feels like you’ve swallowed a lump of hot coal, but he doesn’t need to know that. Eddie grins, and his dimples make a glorious reappearance.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, and again positions your head where he wants it, staring directly forward. “Honestly, even if you wanted to stop here, it would suit you. I don’t think there’s a way to make you look bad, sweetheart.”

“You’ve never seen me with a hangover,” you scoff, trying to ignore how your heart skips a beat.

Eddie smirks at you in the mirror while he starts working on giving your hair layers. “My guess is that you still look just as cute, but with a bit more of a grumpy look around here.” He gestures to your brow with one finger, and reaches over to set aside the texturizing scissors.

“So, what I’m hearing is, you think I’m cute?” you say, still trying to play up the confidence that you don’t really have. Your hand squeezes your thigh under the smock you wear, your nails digging in for purchase.

“No, I think you’re gorgeous,” Eddie says swiftly, like it’s just a matter of fact. “But, I think you’d also be cute when you’re hungover. Plus, with this hair, you’d probably look all unkempt and I love the mental image that’s creating.”

His hands fluff the layers that he’s put into your hair, ruffling them gently and carding his fingers through them to measure their length. You’re sure that he’s not aware of the moon-eyed look you’re giving him in the mirror.

Except, then he moves around you to start working on your bangs, and the smirk that comes across his face when he looks down at yours is enough to make you lose your composure. He knows everything that’s going on in your head, you’re sure of it.

Cocky bastard.

“I like your tattoos,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear over the music and the sounds of blow dryers all around you. He’s face to face with you, so close that you can count the freckles on his pale face.

Eddie’s eyes light up. “Yeah? What about ‘em?”

“Well,” you lick your lips, your eyes flicking down to the one on his neck, and the one peeking out of his collar. “They’re colorful, and they look like you put a lot of thought into picking out each one. They’re pretty.”

“Hmm. You flatter me,” he remarks, trying to hide his grin and failing. If you look closely, there’s just the slightest pink tint to his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He finishes trimming your bangs, and just before he stands up, he chucks you lightly under the chin. “Keep it up and you might get a freebie.”

A free what? You’re imagining he means some sort of a free hair wash or something, but you can’t keep your mind from going to unprecedented places.

“All right. Bear with me, I’m gonna blow dry you now.” He turns your chair away from the mirror to get you a bit closer to the blow dryer, and for a few minutes, there’s a lull in the conversation.

Then, all at once, the blow dryer shuts off, and Eddie leans down towards you. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Eddie, you’re gonna make me nervous.”

“Well, we don’t want that.” You just barely turn your head to look at him; just enough that your noses barely brush. You steal a breath that comes from his mouth, and then, Eddie turns you to the mirror. “Like I said,” he murmurs, “There’s not a way to make you look bad.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe. And holy shit is right– he’s done a complete number on you. Your hair is voluminous, framing your face in a way that you haven’t seen it before.

“What do you think?” he asks, and for a moment, you think it’s a rhetorical question.

“I think you’re way better than Melissa,” you tell him, once you realize that it’s not rhetorical and he’s really asking you what you think. You’re sure that he’d make adjustments if you needed, but you don’t need him to. He’s read you like a book. He’s made you look better than you could ever have hoped for.

“I’m gonna need that in writing,” he tells you, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen. “For employee of the month, and all.”

“Tell me where to sign.”

He jerks his head, and all at once the fog lifts. You follow him to the front desk like a lost puppy, feeling like you don’t actually want to leave. You want to sit in his chair while he cuts your hair until you have none left. You want to keep his attention on you and stare at his smile, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos, for the rest of time.

“I look forward to next time, princess,” he tells you, but you’re hyperfocused on the touch of his hand to your lower back.

You watch him telling something to the girl at the front desk, his hand wrapped around the edge of the table and distracting you for the umpteenth time. You watch his silver rings glint in the light, and you think about them weaving through your hair; you think about his fingers and how they’d feel on places besides your head.

“So, when did you want to schedule an appointment?”

You blink a few times, and in a dazed glow you come back to where you are. At the front desk. Paying for your haircut. “Sorry, what?”

“The… next appointment? For your trim?” The secretary tilts her head, smiling at you kindly. “When did you want to come in?”

“Oh,” you murmur, looking down at the keyboard that she’s typing on. Eddie has disappeared back around the partition with a sweet smile and a wave cast in your direction. You just want him to come back again. “What would you suggest? Y’know, for this kind of a cut?”

“Hmm,” the girl hums, and sizes you up. Not in a way that makes you doubt yourself, but in a way that tells you she’s taking your question seriously. “Probably about four weeks. See if the length is something you’re happy with?”

“Great. Four weeks from now. With Eddie.” You peer down at the rack of business cards on the deck, and pick up the one farthest to the right.

Eddie Munson, Stylist. Set an appointment today!

By four weeks, your hair has already reached your shoulders, and the ease of maintenance is starting to wear off. When you get a call reminding you about your appointment with Eddie, your head reels with the knowledge that you’ll see him again.

You calmly assert to yourself that this time, there will be no mooning over him. He’s just your hairdresser. You figure he just has a job to do, tips to earn, and so on. You don’t know if he’s available, you don’t know if he’s single or if he even likes you the way that you like him. You don’t know anything about him, really.

False. You know that he used to wash his hair with bar soap.

You snicker to yourself as you sit in the waiting area yet again. The only available slot for him today was 6:30; pretty close to closing time, but for a Wednesday you figured it was best for you to come late, since you’d have time to get yourself together after work.

You’ve never been in the salon so late. It’s getting dark outside, and the overhead lights cast a semi-yellow glow around the waiting area. Business is dying down now. Not as many people love the idea of getting their hair cut so late, you suppose, but it was either this or wait another week to get an appointment with Eddie, and with the rate that your hair is growing, you’d probably be going insane by then.

“Hey, you,” Eddie says, popping his head around the partition with a grin that makes you nearly melt in your seat. His curly hair hangs in a curtain out in midair, and his long neck stretches out for you to take a gander at. “Just couldn’t stay away, huh?”

You smile at him. “Well, you’re the only person I trust with my head.”

What the fuck did you just say?

Eddie smirks, glowing pink around the ears. “I’ll keep that in mind, princess. Let me clean up my station real quick and I’ll getcha goin’, all right?”

You swallow back the lump in your throat. “Yeah, sure, no worries.”

When Eddie disappears again, you slide down in your seat and clap your hand across your eyes. You’re sort of glad that nobody was in the waiting room to see that ridiculous exchange, but you still have to sit with your embarrassment while Eddie cuts your hair. Again.

There will be no pining. There will be no getting weirdly turned on by him washing your hair. Nope, not happening this time.

This time, when Eddie ushers you back behind the partition, there’s only one two other stylists who are there cleaning their stations. The PA has been turned way down, so you can barely register what it’s playing at all.

“You actually came at a good time,” Eddie tells you as you trail after him toward the wash station. “You’re the last person for the night, so I can really take my time with you.”

“O-oh.. really?” You beat back your perverted thoughts with a stick. “To do what?”

“Oh, y’know,” Eddie shrugs as he lays a towel around your shoulders again, just as gentle as he was the last time. “We could do something totally crazy. Who knows what’ll happen?”

His voice is animated, pleasantly filling the empty space where your thoughts might become too much if you let them wander.

Over the past month, after you’d recovered from your last meeting with Eddie, and as you were preparing for this one, you came up with a few things that you could ask him about– just to keep your mind from going to places you didn’t want them to. To save yourself the embarrassment and the ordeal of having to play whack-a-mole with your libido, and all.

“Did you get employee of the month?” you begin with.

Eddie laughs, and then sighs. “No, our manicurist got it. I’ll get it this time, I just gotta stay on my A-game.” His blunt nails rake your hair away from your forehead and temples, and a lukewarm stream of water hits the crown of your skull.

You nearly want to jump out of your skin at the feeling. “Was it because they gave you the crap chair too many times?”

“Probably. But I got here early today, so the good news is you don’t have to sit in the crap chair this time.”

“Aww, I kind of liked the crap chair. Kept me grounded.” You hear him huff a laugh as he starts lathering shampoo through your hair. Trying to keep your mind running so you don’t focus too hard on how good his rings feel scraping against your scalp, you ask, “How’d you get into this line of work?”

“Honestly, it’s kind of a weird story,” Eddie starts, beginning to massage his fingertips into your skull in a way that makes your toes curl in your shoes. You tighten your hands on the arms of your chair and take a deep breath. “So, it took me three tries to graduate high school, right? I was terrible at it. And, y’know, I figured I’d only end up working in a garage or something for the rest of my life. But I was cutting my mane all on my own, and eventually I started cutting my friends’ hair too, because they were all in college and it’s cheaper than going to a salon. I mean–” he chuckles, and begins rinsing your hair– “believe me. I know all about it. And it just came to me really easily, ‘cause I used to be great at drawing and crafting and stuff. And it’s kind of the same thing– once you learn the medium, it’s smooth sailing from there.”

The salon has gone eerily quiet, and by the time Eddie wraps your head and sits you up, you realize that the other stylists have gone, and you and Eddie are the last people in the building. You’d be a little nervous about it, but you got Eddie on a roll, and honestly, he makes it so easy to listen to him.

“Anyways, one day my friend Robin says to me, ‘You should totally get your credential for this,’ and I said, ‘You have to go to school for this shit?’” You blow a raspberry of a laugh, no longer feeling anxious as he sits you down on his not-crap styling chair. He drapes a smock over you, and cracks a grin at you in the mirror. “I know! So, I’ve never been great at school, and I can’t afford to pay for beauty school tuition on the pay I was making at the time, so my friends… they pooled together some money to at least pay for my first semester. And then– get this– I got on the fucking Dean’s list.”

“No way.”

“I did! Yours truly!” He does a little bow, and while you’re still giggling, he begins detangling your hair. “So, I got grants. And I finished top of my class, because as it turns out, when you don’t hate what you’re studying it’s really easy to do well. I got my certification framed and everything. Show that to my damn high school principal.” He shakes his head, but the smile is still on his face when he says, “But now I just have to get that fucking employee of the month.”

“Anything I can do to help?” you offer, admiring his face in the mirror again without even realizing you’re doing it. You love seeing him grin, showing off his dimples and the smile lines around his eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he shrugs with a cute scrunch of his nose. “Just make sure you write my boss a letter saying how fantastic and amazing I am and how there’s no other hair stylist like me and how you’ll never find anyone as cool and sexy anywhere else. Something subtle like that oughta do it.”

“Shouldn’t be difficult,” you tell him smoothly. “I already had that one drafted.”

He chuckles, his eyes sparkling when he reaches for his scissors, but you still notice the faint blush on his cheeks that he tries to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Flattery. You know what that gets you with me.”

A freebie. You hear his voice echoing in your head, and you swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Like… what? A mohawk?”

“Would you want a mohawk?” he asks you, pausing his movements to peer at you. “Because that’d be metal as hell, I’d be so down.”

You laugh. “I appreciate it, but I think… probably not today.”

Eddie hums, and returns to smoothing your hair back away from your face. “So we’re just doing the same as last time?”

“Yeah, not too flashy.”

“Gotcha. It’s a shame, though. I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Well, I think that short hair is just easier to maintain,” you tell him, at a loss for what else to say. He glances up at you in the mirror, and locks eyes with you. “And it doesn’t make my neck look as stumpy as it is.”

Eddie tilts his head with a confused pout, and then he reaches down and wraps his hands loosely around your throat. Your breath stalls in your chest, your eyes focused on the sight of his hands on you, his thumbs gently stroking the nape of your neck and his ring clad fingers pressed just below your chin. His fingers link and hold you, creating a necklace that you’ll never be able to find anywhere else.

Oh, shit. Oh, fucking hell. Everything below your waist draws up tight and hard, your thighs clamping together like that’s going to somehow will away the hold that Eddie has on you.

You lift your eyes and find his in the mirror, dark and focused in on you. You hold each others’ gaze for a prolonged moment, not saying anything, you barely even daring to breathe. You can’t imagine what the expression on your face looks like. You’re too busy staring at the one on his– like there are a million thoughts running through his head, and you’re desperate to know every single one of them.

“Nah, I think you’re perfect.” And just like that, Eddie moves on like nothing happened, picking up his scissors again. Like he didn’t just fry your brain. Like you’re not halfway to cardiac arrest.

You’re dumbstruck as he starts trimming the ends of your hair. You told yourself there would be no mooning over him. No pining. But here, you are, turned on beyond belief, and having to deal with the heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and not shift around, because you don’t want to fuck him up.

When he pinches the ends of the front to see if they’re level, you’re staring directly at him in the mirror. Not even trying to hide it, either. If you did try, you’d most certainly fail. Eddie frowns in concentration, a bit of a crease to his brow as he peers at his hands.

Eddie tuts. “I’m trying to figure out– is it–?” He grabs the back of your chair, and suddenly you’re being swiveled around to face him. “Sometimes these mirrors don’t even help a guy out at the worst goddamn times…”

Your breathing is way heavier than it needs to be. Is it hot in here? Did they crank up the heat in this place specifically to spite you? Eddie’s face is so close to yours, and you’re not sure if the fact that you aren’t in the crap chair is helping. You’re higher up now, and he doesn’t have to bend down as far to get level with you, and his eyes are the color of dark chocolate, and you–

Eddie’s hand comes up and snips the tip off the right side. “There we go. One side was all fucked.”

“Well, we don’t want anything getting fucked, do we?” you mutter under your breath. What’s left of it.

Eddie pauses and his eyes flick up to yours. His eyelashes are long and flutter as he holds your gaze again, while you try hard not to look away. There’s that unreadable expression on his face from earlier, morphing slowly into something like amusement, but that could also just be your mind playing tricks on you. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his lips. Don’t look at his li–

“Screw it.” Eddie tosses his scissors to the ground and his hands come up to grip your face, smoothing your hair back tenderly before he kisses you.

You open your mouth and Eddie is in it, searching, feeling. His hands hold your head firm and you feel the metal of his rings digging into your cheeks, and you’re splitting apart at the seams from the way he’s completely invading your senses. He smells like warm, spicy cologne and hairspray. He tastes like cigarettes and cherry coke. He moans into you, and the sound is like heaven.

You lift your legs and wrap them around his waist, and he grunts before he pulls away just the tiniest bit to give you breathing room.

“This is highly unprofessional, Mr. Munson,” you whisper to him, as if you don’t have him caged in with your thighs.

“I don’t… actually fucking care,” Eddie admits, his nose just nudging against yours. “Got so fuckin’ hard the minute I saw you. What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

“Dunno,” you murmur against his mouth, “I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

“C’mere.” He pulls you out of your seat, and you practically trip over the smock he clipped around your neck.

“Get me out of this thing,” you giggle, letting your forehead fall onto his shoulder. You inhale a deep breath of his cologne, feeling his chest shake with his laugh.

“Aww, but you look so cute,” Eddie coos, but his hands come up to undo the button at the back of your neck. The fabric slides to the ground, and Eddie kicks it aside as he crowds you back against the table. Your ass hits the edge of it and your hand falls onto a comb when you try to steady yourself. He pulls you flush to his body, his hands caging you in. Eddie’s tongue dances over your bottom lip and you moan, lifting your hands to tangle in the fabric of his shirt.

He ducks his head to help you pull his shirt off before he tosses it somewhere to the side. You’re distracted by his tattoos, each one of them beautiful and detailed, standing out against his pale skin.

Then, you remember something that he told you earlier, and you connect some dots that you hadn’t even realized were there. “Did you draw these?”

Eddie’s grin could blind the sun. He blushes pink down his neck and shoulders. “Yeah, I did.”

“They’re gorgeous. I meant what I said before– I really like them.”

He sucks in a deep breath, and then his lips are on you, everywhere they can manage. On your face, your neck, trying to get at your collarbone but your shirt is in the way. He fists it in his hands, making a petulant noise in the back of his throat. “Help me out here, sweetheart.”

Your shirt lands somewhere near his. You don’t see exactly where, because he’s pulling the straps of your bra down your shoulders so that he can mouth kisses across your breasts, pulling down on the cups until he can graze his teeth over your nipple. It takes you so off guard that you bite back a squeal, tugging at his hair and rubbing your thighs together to stave off the incessant throbbing between them.

When you look down at him, his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black. Your heart thuds erratically in your chest, your breath not coming even though you gasp and pull at the air with everything you have. You can’t really fathom why he has you so worked up– just that it’s been so long since anyone touched you like this, and now that you have it it’s like every little point of contact is on fire.

Eddie grazes his teeth across your breast, and your knees nearly buckle out from under you. You grab his face, guiding him back up to you.

“What were you thinking when you grabbed my throat?” you ask him, your voice hoarse in the back of your throat.

His hands are on you now, grabbing at your waist and hips, squeezing like he’ll never let go. “I can show you, if you want,” Eddie answers, and he sounds just as wrecked as you. Maybe more.

There’s absolutely no way you’re going to refuse that. Not with the way you’ve been lusting after him since meeting him. You nod. “Eddie, please–”

He kisses you hard again before mumbling against your lips, “Turn around and take off your pants.”

You do what he asks without a second’s hesitation. You watch him in the mirror as he follows your movements, undoing his own belt, and you kick your jeans and underwear off without thinking about why you’re here, without wondering about the repercussions. You figure you can probably do that later.

Right now, Eddie’s smoothing his hand up your spine, and the feeling of his fingers dancing along your skin sends shivers through your body. His fingers weave through the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls just slightly, until you bare your neck.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your heart hammers as you watch him, dark eyes and hair and rosy cheeks in the mirror, his carnation colored lips twisting into a wicked grin at you. He kisses your shoulder so gently it’s like the fluttering of a feather.

“‘Stumpy neck,’” Eddie scoffs under his breath, and you tremble. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

He bends you forward until you’re face to face with yourself in the mirror– but you’re looking at him, gazing into your eyes while he teases himself at your entrance.

“Oh my god,” you groan, dropping your head almost immediately at the feeling. Your head is spinning, your body rigid with anticipation and breaking out in a cool sweat already.

“Mm-mm,” Eddie hums condescendingly, and a hand clamps around your throat, hoisting your head up again. A gasp tears from your lips. In the mirror, his eyes are blazing. “You look at me while I fuck you. That’s the only way this is gonna happen. Got it?”

You nod. You want to shrink away from the heat in his gaze, but you want him to fuck you way more than that. You shudder as he leans forward, pressing in until his chin nearly rests on your shoulder.

“I need to hear you say it, baby.” His thumb strokes lightly along your pulse point, and you make a soft noise in the back of your throat without thinking. “Tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” you tell him, barely a whisper, but he hears it all the same.

“Good girl.”

Eddie grins, kisses the nape of your neck, and pulls back. When he does, you’re barely able to take a breath before he pushes his hard cock into you, and the noise you make is almost embarrassing in its volume.

“Ohhh, you’re absolutely soaked, baby. She’s practically dripping– is this just for me?” Eddie murmurs in your ear, grinding his hips up against your ass for emphasis. The lewd noise that it makes has your toes curling and the tips of your ears burning.

“Fuck,” you moan, ginding back against him to push him deeper. He’s so thick and you’re so sensitive that your mind is completely blanking at the feeling.

Eddie notices, and he chuckles as grabs your waist with one hand as he thrusts his hips forward. “I’ve barely gotten my cock in you, princess. Don’t go getting all dumb on me already.” His voice goes straight between your legs and your cunt pulses around him, making him hiss through his teeth. The hand on your throat tightens just slightly. “I asked you a question.”

You keen, your mind reeling as you search for words. You manage to nod, babbling out, “Yes, it’s– it’s all for you, Eddie, been wanting you so bad, s’all I can think about–”

Eddie coos, grabbing your chin to shut you up while a particularly hard thrust of his hips knocks the wind out of you. He turns his head and grazes his lips against your cheek, eyeing you in the mirror as he says, “I knew it.”

Your eyes are on him, on his hand around your neck, on his rings pressed into your skin. All that your fucked-out mind can think is that it’s hot, and you like him and his strong hands and his pretty eyes and the way his cock is reaching places inside you that make thoughts really difficult to come by.

Eddie whispers something against your skin, and you miss it because you’re hooked on the way his eyelashes flutter for just a moment while his lips are pressed against your cheek. You lift your hand, until it rests over his against your throat, his fingers just barely laced with yours.

“Again,” you say– it comes out like a command, but you mean it like a question. You don’t know what the fuck he just said.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeats, and his voice nearly cracks with the desperation in it. His sweat slick chest is pressed against your back, his thrusts rocking your hips into the table and jostling it into the wall, but his voice is so tender. “So perfect for me.”

Your mouth falls open, your hand tightening on his. You pull, until he loosens his grip and his hand comes away with yours. You kiss his palm, then his fingertips, holding his gaze in the mirror as you slowly, gently swirl your tongue around his middle and forefinger.

Eddie’s eyes narrow coyly at you, while his thrusts make you mewl and clutch at the table with your free hand. You suck his two fingers deep into your mouth, earning a pleased groan from him in your ear– a sound which you want to hear again and again, no matter what it takes.

“Look at you, sweet little thing, gettin’ my fingers all wet like that,” he whispers to you, biting his lip as you grind back against him. “Wanna do something with ‘em?”

You moan, letting his fingers slide from your mouth with a wet pop. You guide his hand down your chest, down your stomach, until his fingers slide between your legs.

“There you go,” Eddie coos, taking over from your guidance as his fingers start rubbing small circles against your clit. “Atta girl, showin’ me what you want. Just needed me to fuck you stupid first, hm?”

Your cunt pulses, and you cum with a loud moan that echoes off of the mirror in front of you and around the empty space. Eddie cries out, and you feel his warmth fill you as he cums. He slows until he stills inside you, and then he holds you, panting against your cheek, his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand on your throat.

You haven’t moved your hand away from his, you realize, after a few moments of bliss in the aftershocks. You drop your hand to the table with a thud, earning a soft, breathless chuckle from him.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Eddie asks you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.

“I think you can do whatever you want with me,” you murmur dazedly, just barely shifting and making him hiss. He’s still inside you, trying to hold you steady while he calms himself down.

“Good.” There’s a kiss to your cheek, and Eddie grunts as he slowly eases out of you. “I still need to finish your goddamn haircut.”

“Eddie, we’re naked.”

“And?” His hands are moving quicker than your mind is, yanking a kleenex from the table so that he can bend down and wipe the insides of your thighs. You jump at the sudden touch, but he clamps a hand around your hip to hold you still. “The sooner I finish your hair, the sooner I close up, and the sooner we go get dinner. You like Italian?”

“I didn’t think your pillow talk would involve finishing my haircut,” you grumble, but there’s a smile worming it’s way onto your face even as you say it.

“That’s the name of the game, sweetheart,” Eddie says, tossing the tissue into the trash. He picks up your underwear, and the smock from the floor. “Now, sit your cute ass down. I’m not gonna get employee of the month by dishing out orgasms and not bangs, y’know.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #roses*#eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic

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runnning-outof-time · 4 months ago

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Tommy & His Girls | Tommy Shelby x Reader

read more of the Girl Dad Mini Series — HERE.

request: yes by anonymous

pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!Reader

summary: When things get rough, Tommy can most certainly count on the girls in his life to lighten things up.

warnings: drinking, smoking, Tommy being a horsegirl

word count: 2089

a/n: back at it with another girl dad!Tommy fic - I just love using this little family I’ve created (if you couldn’t tell) I hope you like this installment of their story!! p.s…I’m sorry if the ending’s corny…I didn’t know how to, well, end it. Enjoy!! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Tommy barely said a word as he entered Arrow House. He handed his things to Frances and made a b-line to his study. Things with the business were rough today...they'd been rough for as far back as Tommy could remember. It seemed like he was the only one in the family pulling the weight and that left him feeling like there was war happening inside his head as he made the drive home.

He pushed his study's door closed behind him as he walked into the room, not even caring if the door had enough velocity to latch or not. He trudged his way to his desk after pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey. Half of it was downed in the first drink; he really wanted the pain in his head to cease.

Setting the glass down, he went through the motions of lighting himself a cigarette. The first, deep drag he took finally made some of the noise quiet down.

It's unclear how long he sat like that: slumped back on his chair with a cigarette burning between his fingers. The next time he came to, however, was when the office door opened slightly.

"Dad?" a small voice came from the opposite side of the room, making Tommy sit up straighter in his seat.

"Yeah," he answered, his voice not quite audible. He cleared his throat before responding louder, "yes?" He focused in on the doorway, seeing his oldest daughter, Thea, standing in it.

The young girl said nothing else as she fully entered the room and made her way right over to his desk. “You didn’t come to my room to say hello,” she stated, a slight frown present on her face.

She stopped in front of his chair as she finished speaking, her arms open to show him that she wanted a hug. The second he opened his, she fell into them.

Tommy let out a sigh as he felt the weight of his eldest daughter against him. “Hello, Thea,” he breathed, a sigh escaping with his words. He couldn’t deny the fact that he felt terrible in that moment. He always made sure to greet Thea when he returned home from work, no matter what type of day he had.

How could he have gotten so frustrated that he forgot one of the most important parts of his day?

Thea was the one to break away from the hug — Tommy could have sat there like that all evening if she allowed it — and step back to look at her father.

He watched her, waiting to see what she’d do next. To his surprise, she made her way over to one of the seats that faced his desk and sat down.

The two stared at each other for a few moments longer. Thea looked as if she was studying her father; like she was taking notes on the entire situation. Tommy was quite confused as to why the ten year old wanted to stick around after greeting him.

Finally, after several moments of silence, he had to ask her just that, “why have you decided to stay, love?”

“I was able to tell that you’re stressed out over work, dad. I don’t want to leave you alone,” she answered him, sounding simultaneously like a ten year old and like a person who was beyond their years.

Tommy took a moment to let her words sink in. Then he couldn’t help but smile as a soft chuckle escaped his lips. The innocence that his daughters held despite the line of work their father was present in was always something that grounded him, no matter what was going on. He knew that he could count on it to bring him back down from that position of power to just being their dad.

“You can keep working,” Thea’s voice broke through his thoughts, making him realize that he had been sitting there, staring at her for some time.

Tommy glanced down at the papers that were scattered across his desk. They were covered with statements that he truly didn’t want to read anymore. Then he looked to one of the photographs that sat proudly on his desk. It was of Thea, Evie, and Juni. They were all hugging onto each other and smiling their biggest smiles. His eyes finally moved to Thea, who was still sitting with a smile on her face.

“I can’t work any longer,” he said to her then as he stood from his chair, “let’s go and see what your sisters are doing,” he suggested, his statement making Thea rise from her seat as well.

Tommy and Thea found Evie and Juni playing in the front room.

“Dad’s home!” Thea exclaimed, making the two younger girls quickly turn around.

“Dad!” they both cheered in unison, smiles lighting up their faces.

Tommy smiled as they rushed over to hug him. He could slowly feel the stress leaving his body. “Hello, girls,” he greeted them, rubbing both of their backs as they held onto him tightly.

“Come play, dad!” Juni exclaimed as she pulled away from him to go back to the toys they had strewn about on the floor.

“Have you ladies finished your homework?” he asked the older two before making his decision.

“Course I have,” Evie answered in a matter-of-fact tone, “it was too easy.”

“Mine’s finished as well,” Thea answered with a smile.

“Good,” Tommy nodded, smiling at his girls.

“Let’s play!” Juni shrieked from where she was standing by the toys. By this time she already had one leg in one of the ‘princess dresses’ that the girls had specially made for them. Tommy smiled as he saw the one she’d chosen - it was one that Thea had been given when she was little.

“What game?” Tommy asked, watching as his other girls followed suit and grabbed the things they needed from their toy chest.

“Princesses, of course,” Evie answered like it was common sense….well, in this Shelby household it kind of was. Tommy chuckled at that thought.

“Thea’s the queen!” Juni shouted excitedly.

“She’s always the queen though!” Evie protested, a frown on her face as her hands dropped to her hips.

“I’m the queen because I’m the oldest,” Thea calmly explained to her disgruntled sister, “it’s just one of my jobs as the oldest sibling. You and Juni are princesses because you’re my younger sisters, and you’ll get to be queen once I’m older.”

Tommy couldn’t help but smile as he listened to her explanation. She was truly wise beyond her years, and she handled everything with such grace.

“Fine,” Evie huffed, deciding to accept the decision even though she sounded a little disappointed.

“What’s my part in this?” Tommy asked the three once their conversation had ended.

“The part you always are, dad,” Evie was the one to answer.

“Got it,” Tommy nodded, surpressing a groan as he lowered himself to the floor. I’m getting too old for this, he thought to himself, but he didn’t dare let that feeling show. He’d never turn down the opportunity to play with his girls.

(Y/N) was finally finished with discussing all of the changes that were to be made with the grounds and house keepers. A lot went into preparing Arrow House as one season rolled into the next. Despite the magnitude of the task and all of the moving parts that were involved, (Y/N) would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy overseeing these changes.

Now, however, she was more than ready to get back to her family.

She was able to hear them before she saw them. The giggles of her girls and one of Tommy’s unmistakable impressions. She laughed to herself just hearing it.

The sight she was met with in the front room brought the widest smile to her face. “What’s going on in here?” she made her presence known with a question.

“Mum!” came as a chorus of yells from the three girls as they forgot what they were doing to run and greet her.

“Hello, my darlings,” she greeted them, eagerly accepting their hugs. “What’re you playing in here with dad?”

“Princesses!” Juniper chirped, holding up her wand excitedly.

“Ahh,” (Y/N) nodded in understanding, “and what part is dad playing?”

“He’s the prized horse,” Evie happily answered.

(Y/N) finally looked to her husband. The sight she was met with had her stifling her laughter. Tommy was still down on all fours, and was wearing a rather strained expression as he looked at her through the longer strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes.

“Of course he is,” she finally responded, grinning at him before focusing her attention on the girls. “How about we give him a break now, hmm? Frances has informed me that dinner is ready,” she then suggested.

No pushback was received from any of the girls, who promptly began making their way to the dining room.

(Y/N) looked over at Tommy again. He was now wearing a look of relief, and he matched his eyes with hers again just briefly before he began the process of standing up. (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle at his predicament, waiting for him to be on his feet again before she started walking to the dining room.

For once, Tommy was actually relieved to have heard that dinner was ready.

After dinner the family decided to go out onto the grounds and enjoy one of the final warm, late fall evenings before winter hit.

Juniper, of course, wanted to go to the stables and check on the horses. Tommy happily took her while the older two stayed back with (Y/N). It wasn’t a surprise, however, when he saw the three cresting the hill to join them in the stables.

Later that night, Tommy was - surprisingly - ready to be in bed at the same time as (Y/N). He helped out with tucking the girls in, wanting to spend as much time with them as he could.

(Y/N) didn’t miss the groan that left his lips as he sat down on his side of the bed. “Not as nimble of a horse as you used to be, huh?” she teasingly commented, biting on her finger to stiffle her giggles when his head snapped to look at her. “Maybe they should put you out to pasture.”

Tommy shot her a look that told her she should watch what she was saying. His look made her giggles escape.

“They’ll still treat you as their prized pony,” she conceded, moving over to where he was so that she could drape her arms over his shoulders. “You know how much they enjoy having you play with them,” she said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.

Tommy smiled at the sentiment, nodding his head slightly as he brought his hand up to set it against the spot her wrists crossed each other.

“I don’t believe I’ve asked you…” (Y/N) started after a few moments had passed. She lifted her head from his neck before continuing, “how was your day?”

A breath of a laugh left his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment, silently recounting his day’s events and deciphering what he wanted to tell her. “I came home stressed, but the girls were able to put me into a better mood,” he decided not to go too far into details, settling with a short summary.

“They’ve stolen my job then, hmm?” her question wasn’t the sort of response that he was excepting, and it was one that had him turning his head in confusion, hoping that she’d offer more explanation. “It used to be my job to put you into a better mood,” she remarked, the smile she was wearing telling him that she wasn’t being completely serious about this.

“All of you girls put me in a better mood,” he responded in a matter-of-fact tone before adding, “don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that was the truth. Without those girls, he probably would have still been in his office, droning over the same stack of papers and nursing his umpteenth whiskey.

Without those girls, he probably would have had to deal with another night of keeping his demons at bay as the shovels hit against the walls.

Without his girls, he would most certainly be a completely different man than the one he is today.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @theshelbyslimited @peakyswritings

@just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @emotionalcadaver

@stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder

@cillmequick @strayrockette @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @mrs-bond

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo @novashelby

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 4 months ago

Text

I.T. -Oneshot

Word count: 3082 *Took some inspiration from Garcia & Morgan from Criminal Minds.

“Get me in there, babygirl,” Bucky grunted.

“Yeah, yeah, give me a second sweet cheeks,” Y/N said, her fingers clicking away on her keyboard. She could hear Bucky’s metal arm pounding into the door, trying to break in to free Sam from a trap that he’d accidentally fallen into. The building was rigged to blow within just a few minutes, and they needed to get out fast. She glanced at the screen, showing him scowling at the door then looking towards the camera, like he knew she was watching him.

“Quit staring at my ass and open the damn door!” he griped at the camera.

Y/N smirked as she typed the final code in and the door slid open. “But it’s such a great looking ass,” she whined teasingly.

“Would you both knock it off and help me, please?!” Sam yelled.

Bucky ran into the room and undid the straps holding Sam down to the chair he was in, helping him get his wings back on before they both ran out of the room. “Turn right,” Y/N said. They turned right and booked it down the hallway toward the nearest exit. “The Quinjet is ready but cloaked, so run straight out the door about 50 yards then step up.” They both grunted in affirmation. “God I love hearing men moan in my ear,” she smiled.

“For fucks sake, Y/N,” Sam groaned, but Bucky laughed.

“Don’t give me any ideas, babygirl,” Bucky said lowly.

“Shut up!” Sam yelled at him before they both jumped into the hidden Quinjet, the door closing fast behind them before it lifted off then headed back to headquarters.

“What’s wrong, Sammy baby?” Y/N said in a sing-song voice.

She could see through the camera in the Quinjet as Sam looked up at it and flipped her off. Bucky knocked his hand down, making Sam huff indignantly, then looked at the camera with his signature, dead sexy smirk. “Take us home, Mama.”

“Mmh, I love it when you call me Mama,” Y/N replied.

“Stop it!” Sam screamed.

***

“Hey, babygirl,” Bucky greeted her later that night.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” Y/N greeted him back, turning in her chair. “Hey Sammy baby–”

“No,” Sam said, holding a finger up to her. “Just check my wings, please. I’m not in the mood for this weird, flirty banter right now.”

“Jeez, you get caught once and you’re all Mr. Grumpy Gills,” Y/N frowned at him, taking the pack from him and setting it on her desk.

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m going to bed,” he groaned, turning from the room and quickly walking out before anything else could be said.

“What’s up his ass?” Y/N asked Bucky offhandedly, her hands opening Sam’s wings and checking them over for any issues.

“He’s just butthurt he had to be saved,” Bucky scoffed. “He’ll be fine.” He walked around the desk to stand next to her, his metal arm flinging over her shoulder. “So, have you thought about my offer?”

It was Y/N’s turn to roll her eyes. “Buck, what do I need training for? I’m I.T., just sitting here, behind a desk, far away from the real action.”

“Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t know how to defend yourself,” Bucky retorted for the hundredth time. “Please, babygirl?” He squeezed her shoulder and made her turn to face him, giving her his best puppy dog-eyed, pleading stare.

Y/N tried not to be swayed, but his big, baby blue eyes were too much for her. She whined again, stomping her feet. “Alright, fine.” Bucky’s bright smile blinded her. “But you have to make it worth my while,” she said with a wicked smile, her eyebrow arching at him.

“Mmh? And how’s that?” Bucky said, his smile matching hers.

“I’ll train with you as long as you wear that way too tight tank top,” Y/N smirked dangerously. She and Bucky had a teasing, flirty relationship from the beginning, but lately it had been pushing a lot of boundaries, both of them seeing how far the other would go.

Bucky leaned down, nuzzling her nose with his. “Just for you, babygirl,” he said quietly. She gasped as he kissed the tip of her nose, then squeezed her one more time before releasing her and walking out the door. “See you tomorrow, 7:00 a.m. sharp!”

“Seven?!” Y/N scoffed.

***

Y/N regretted the training the moment it started. Now she was four weeks of sessions in, and as much as she could tell she was getting a little stronger and getting the moves down better, the real endurance came from her sanity being tested each time as Bucky walked in with his Winter Soldier swagger, workout joggers and the tight tank top she had requested. She was kicking herself now for that request, since it did nothing but distract her, building a pool of jittery, sexual tension in her gut that was exacerbated by their flirty banter.

“Come on, babygirl, strategize. How do you get out of this?” Bucky asked as he pinned her arms behind her back, his weight on top of her as she lay on the floor.

“Ugh, I don’t,” Y/N grunted, squirming against his hold. “I think you just like manhandling me.”

Bucky laughed then leaned down to her ear. “You have no idea,” he whispered suggestively. “Now think. What can you do?”

Y/N squirmed again, then got a scandalous idea. She relaxed the upper half of her body, her hands twisting to grip his hands holding her and squeezing them, while she arched her back and pushed her ass up and into his groin, grinding against him. Bucky gasped, his hands loosening enough that she was able to pull them out of his grasp, twist around and maneuver herself to flip him onto his back. Her hips sat squarely on top of his hips as she straddled his lap, her hands grabbing his wrists and pulling them above his head, putting her full weight on him. She grunted and smiled when she finally overpowered him. “How does it feel being manhandled, huh?” she panted above him.

Bucky’s eyes were wide, his mouth agape and his own breathing heavy as he stared up at her. Y/N suddenly realized the position she had put them in, and her triumphant smirk fell as she started to panic. She let go of his wrists and started to sit up, which only made it so she could feel something hard against her core. Before she could try to move off of him Bucky quickly hoisted himself up and pushed her onto her back, his hips settling in between her legs as he laid on her front and pinned her wrists above her head with his metal hand, his flesh elbow keeping him hovering over her. “As much as I love you manhandling me, I can’t keep doing this anymore,” he huffed, his gaze flickering across her face.

“Doing what?” Y/N whispered.

“Do you want me?” he asked, his eyes focusing on her lips.

As much as her heart was pounding with her anxiety, she felt herself nodding. “Do you want me?” she asked.

Bucky smirked and slightly rolled his hips into her, pushing the proof of his desire into her, making her lightly gasp. “Fuck yeah,” he answered. He leaned down and kissed her deeply, pulling another gasp from her. Y/N felt like she was melting as his lips seemingly injected a deep calm through her skin, overriding the anxiety and letting her relax into the desire she had been feeling for so long. Her legs instinctively lifted and she hooked her ankles behind his hips, pulling his lower half into her firmly as she kissed him back. He hummed against her lips, letting go of her wrists so he could wrap his arms around her, and she took the opportunity to cup his face in her hands, her fingers scratching at his beard gently.

She angled her head to deepen the kiss further, opening her mouth to lick at his bottom lip. Bucky smiled and opened his mouth to her, letting her taste him, his tongue indulging in hers. “Fuck, babygirl,” he groaned, slightly pulling away so he could start kissing her cheek and down to her neck, sucking a spot just beneath her jaw as he dry humped into her. “I wanna have you. Can I fuck you? Huh? Please babygirl I can’t–”

“Take me to bed, sweet cheeks,” Y/N said, her fingers scratching up into his hair, making him moan.

Bucky pulled them both off of the floor, carrying her out of the personal training room they were in and walking down the hall to the elevator. Y/N took her turn kissing, licking and sucking along his neck, her legs wrapped tight around his waist. When it finally opened up to the personal quarters floor he marched out, holding her tight. If there was anyone there, neither of them noticed or cared. He reached his room and shut the door loudly, locking it then caging her against it, his kisses incessant and needy. Now that they were in private his hands started to roam more, feeling down her back, her sides, then kneading her ass cheeks. “God, you feel so good,” he groaned. “Taste so good,” he said, licking at her jaw again. Y/N whined at the urgency she could feel building in her belly, her nails scratching at his back. “Fuck, you sound good, too. Hearing you flirt with me in my ear during missions. Your voice getting breathy and sexy, calling me all kinds of sweet things. Jesus, you drive me crazy!”

“Can you blame me?” Y/N breathed with a smile. “With your sexy ass?”

Bucky huffed a laugh, his breath fanning her collarbone before he pulled her away from the door and turned to walk to his bed, laying her down on it gently before he started pulling off her clothes. Y/N helped him as best as she could until she lay naked beneath him. He stared at her in awe, his hands slowly and gently feeling her up. “So beautiful,” he whispered reverently. Y/N smiled sweetly at him, then tugged at his shirt. Bucky quickly undressed himself, and her eyes widened. The tight tank top didn’t do him justice, and getting to see him in his full naked glory was almost overwhelming.

“Goddamn, Barnes, you need a license for that thing,” Y/N said, looking at his cock.

Bucky doubled over laughing before climbing up the bed to hover over her. “Only you could turn some sexy time into a joke,” he chuckled, kissing her chest and massaging her breasts in his hands.

“No joke, I’m actually a bit afraid you won’t fit,” Y/N said, smiling but genuinely feeling hesitant and worried.

“I’ll take care of you, babygirl, don’t stress,” Bucky murmured as he lazily kissed and licked at her nipples, making her squirm. His flesh hand felt down her stomach, over her hips until he nestled it in between her legs, his fingers stroking over her lower lips. His breath stuttered when he felt how wet she already was, and his thumb rubbed at her clit as his other fingers prodded at her pussy, dipping in one slowly, then after a while another.

Y/N’s breathing quickened, her stomach flinching at particularly deep thrusts of his fingers and at how his tongue flicked over her nipples. She started to grind her hips into his hand, her hands holding his head against her breasts, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck. She could feel the orgasm building rapidly. “Buck…I…oh my god!” she nearly shrieked.

“I’ve got you babygirl, cum for me,” Bucky grunted against her breast, sucking her nipple harshly into his mouth.

He added a third finger, stretching her to get ready for him, then as her pussy relaxed his fingers curled inside her and his thumb flicked her clit just right, making her stiffen then moan loudly as she finally fell apart, her hips trembling as he helped her ride out her orgasm. Bucky moaned as well, his deep voice vibrating into her breast. When she stopped shaking he gently pulled his fingers out of her and brought them to his eye level. He stared at her slick on his fingers, then looked her in the eyes as he stuck them in his mouth, sucking her off of himself. He groaned and she exhaled sharply, her desire coming back full force. “You’re delicious, babygirl,” he said quietly. He hauled himself up and positioned himself between her legs, his flesh hand gripping his cock and pumping it as he rubbed the tip through her pussy lips. “You ready?” he asked, glancing up at her.

“Yes, please sweet cheeks,” Y/N begged, her hands reaching down to his hips and pulling him forward.

“So desperate for my cock,” Bucky smirked. “Fuck, you gonna be let me fill you up, babygirl?”

“Yeah,” she nodded frantically, her ankles hooking behind him again and trying to pull him in.

“Whose pussy is this?” Bucky asked, slapping his cock on her clit.

“FUCK! YOURS! It’s your pussy!” Y/N yelped, her breathing getting more erratic with how desperate she felt to be filled. “Please, Buck, don’t tease me anymore. I’m gonna lose it.”

“Good,” he said, his voice getting lower and raspy. “That’s just how I want you.” Without warning he thrust into her, shoving all of himself in. Y/N’s back arched at the mix of pleasure and slight pain from the stretch, sucking in a deep breath like she’d just come up for air. Bucky shuddered above her, his flesh arm slightly shaking as his face twisted in deep desire. “Holy shit,” he breathed. “You feel amazing. God…fuck…how do you feel this good?”

Y/N was jittery again, still shaking from how much the pleasure was rippling through her lower half and up her spine. She’d never felt so full, so whole before. Her hands slid up his back, feeling every dip and curve of muscle. “Bucky,” she whined.

Bucky shivered again, his head hanging low. “Babygirl, if you keep saying my name like that, I’m not gonna last,” he said, his hips rutting into her. She whined low in her throat, and he finally braced himself differently and thrust again. He set a hard but steady pace, each snap nearly making her eyes roll back in her head. He leaned down and hugged her tight against him again like down in the training room. He kissed her deeply, immediately tasting her again, making her head swim. Y/N felt delirious. The fact that she was here, in this moment, surrounded completely by everything him, was overwhelming in the best way.

Her arms wound behind his back, her nails digging into his shoulder blades as the pressure built in her belly again. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck. “Sweet…ungh…cheeks, I’m gonna c-cum,” Y/N slurred, her mouth opening wide in a silent moan.

“Fuck yes, please, babygirl, cum on my cock,” Bucky huffed against her cheek, his hot breaths in her ear. He nibbled her earlobe as his metal hand traveled down her side to her leg, hiking it up just a little higher over his hip then giving her ass cheek a hard slap. She cried out as he hit that spot deep inside with the new angle, shaking against him as she teetered on the edge of the cliff of her pleasure. “That’s it, Y/N, my baby, my girl. My sweet pussy. Let me have it!” He pounded into her and she finally fell, screaming as she came, biting his shoulder as she spasmed and her pussy gripped him strongly. Bucky whimpered then shuddered hard, moaning loudly in her ear as he came. She could feel his hot cum filling her, and it made the aftershocks more intense, making her shiver violently against him. Her eyes rolled back as he continually rutted everything he had into her, slowing to a stop when he finished.

Bucky panted above her, trying to breathe normally again as his forehead rested against her cheek. “Holy fucking shit, babygirl, that was…god, I can’t even think straight,” he chuckled, kissing her face until he pulled away to look at her. Y/N was gone to the world, her eyes shut with tears streaming from the sides, her head lolled lazily to the side, her mouth agape and a small line of saliva dribbling down the side of her face. “Jesus, Y/N, did I fuck you dumb?” Bucky huffed a laugh in surprise, adjusting himself so his flesh hand could reach up and wipe her mouth and eyes. He tapped her cheek lightly and she hummed. “I’m sorry, babygirl, I didn’t mean to–”

“Don’t ever apologize for making me cum so hard I nearly fainted, sweet cheeks,” Y/N said, her voice gravelly from how hard she screamed. “Fuck, I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard before in my life.”

Bucky laughed, kissing her face again and cupping the side of her face to look at him. She peeled her eyes open to see him staring at her with an adoring smile. She smiled back at him, her hands reaching up to run through his hair again. He hummed then kissed her lips sweetly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” he confessed, his eyes looking hopeful but a little scared.

“Me, too,” Y/N replied. “I-I know we joke and flirt a lot, but I really like you, as more than just friends.”

Bucky’s smile widened and he let out a soft sigh. “Thank god,” he said. “I like you, too. A lot. Probably way too much.”

Y/N giggled and rolled her eyes. “So obsessed with me, sweet cheeks. I mean really, get a hobby.”

Bucky laughed, dropping his forehead on her shoulder as they both shook from laughter against each other. “Well, you’re my new hobby now, babygirl. So you better get used to me being utterly,” he kissed her neck, “and ridiculously,” he kissed her jaw, “obsessed with you.” He kissed her deeply again, pulling a low hum from her.

When he pulled away she smiled, then it twisted into something conspiratorial. “Sam’s gonna be so sick of us.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, making her laugh harder. “Fuck him.”

#marvel #smut #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes oneshot #oneshot #request #ask #anon ask

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notapradagurl7 · 28 days ago

Text

Ties That Bind. Part One.

Terry RichmondBillionaire! x Black Fem! Plus Size/Reader.

Summary: On your boring day at work, you were reunited with the former Marine-turned-billionaire Terry Richmond the man you tutored in college, but he wasn't there for a meeting or investment but for a marriage proposal, to you. Little did you know there was more to him than you imagined.

Word Count: 3,292k

( Masterlist )

Warnings: 18+ smut, fluff, dark!Terry, MDNI!, arranged marriage, mention of burnout, stubborn reader, quick wedding, jealousy, Use of AAVE, consensual for both parties, mention of depression, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names, confession, violence, mention of a drunk man, mention of cutting family ties,

A/N: I want to do more mini-series for Terry instead of fics, hope enjoy this one! I'm so excited Don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, or you can always ask for a request Enjoy! ❤️(NOT inspired by fifty shades of gray)

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @babybratzmaraj @becauseimswagman1

@superheroprincess22 @pocketsizedpanther @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky @euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @tforpresz @uniqueoutlierblog

@dxddykenn @dpennedit @secretlifeoofmarpessa

@westside-rot @mymindisneverhere

@mind-somewhere-else

@kindofaintrovert @aquarising03

@5starr-staciii @pickuptruck01 @lady-olive-oil @23jammy @zillasvilla @yassbishimvintage

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Your fingers tapped across the keyboard with your dark brown eyes glued to the computer screen, you sighed lowly with pure annoyance and couldn’t wait for this day to be over, your alarm on your phone buzzed twice for your lunch break. You stood up from your desk chair in the cubicle with your work besties, Kiana and Juno.

Kiana had a bright smile, her curly hair bouncing as she stood up. "Girl, you look like you need a day off. How about we hit that new café down the street?"

Juno chuckled, adjusting her glasses. "Or a happy hour. I vote for margaritas."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. "You two know I can’t just leave work like that. I have deadlines, remember?"

Kiana waved a dismissive hand. "Deadlines are overrated. You’re seriously burnt out, and we both can see it. Just take a break!"

Before you could respond, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a message from your mom, asking you to join her for a family reunion on Saturday.

But you had to decline since work was keeping you busy, when in reality you didn't want to see them right now, they would always ask if you had a man to catch or a husband yet.

It was so damn annoying.

"Ugh, fine. I will take a break, I’ll just be a responsible adult," you sighed, heading towards the door.

Grabbing your pink lunch bag, and stepped out with ease. You waved at the beautiful black women with their dress clothes and matching heels that clicked on their marble tile floors. They gave you hugs and smiles, delighted to see your face.

“Hey beautiful, you good?” Juno asked gently, her eyes on you.

“Eh, same day, same cubicle Juju. I’ve been okay, still standing, how about y'all?” You explained with a shoulder shrug.

“I’ve been alright, my cat had been going number 2 in the litterbox, its so fucking gross, but I love my baby Lilo” Kiana exclaimed with a lip pout.

“Already, has your cat been checked for that? I've been good lately,” Juno asked with her brow raising.

“Yes, but the doctor said everything is normal, but my cat is fine,”

The three of you have close since high school and college, kept in touch and ended up at same job, you typed and typed documents for your strict boss Kim. She was a bitch, and always said you did everything wrong. It was taking toll on your mental health, you endured travail to get where you needed to be.

But you needed more than a vacation from this workplace, maybe you thought your life was getting dull, no it wasn't you had a decent job, bitchy boss, money and great friends that loved and supported you.

Everyone had a different life and the same kind of life like yours, you're weren't alone.

Entering the roomy break room adorned with beige walls and the aroma of microwaved food, the three of you settled around the circular dark gray table to enjoy your lunch.

Thanking God in the depths of your mind that you’ve gotten a break from the mundane madness.

“I need to go on vacation,” You blurted out, your face resting in your palm.

“How about we all go on vacation? Our how about Brazil?” Kiana exclamined with her hands spread out.

The three of you laughed it off with shared stories and smiles, it was giving young some peace.

Until you heard that familiar deep voice of his, you rested your finger against your lips and listened carefully, “Wait, do y'all hear that?” you whispered to them.

“I-I’m s-sorry Mr. Richmond but what brings you here,” Leigh stuttered nervously.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m sorry to arrive here unannounced and without an appointment but I’m here to speak with one of your assistants,” Terry spoke cordially, his hands in front of him gently grabbing on his wrist.

You, Juno and Kiana peeked out of the break room door, your eyes widening at the striking sight before you. Terry was dressed in a black suit with the tie neatly tucked, speaking to your boss, Leigh.

Leigh stood there in awe by Terry, her mouth parted but no words came out, she could tell that he was a billionaire too.

She agreed to his inquiry, gesturing toward the conference room where he was to take a seat; Leigh eagerly flattered any affluent individual who could enhance her image.

Her brown skin glowed under the white fluorescent lights, and she wore a V-neck black dress with coordinating heels, while her blonde curls danced at her shoulders.

“Yes, who would you like to? Are you here for an investment or meeting?” Leigh asked him, grinning from ear to ear.

“Oh shit, it’s Terry from college! He still is fine as hell too, I remember him, he’s giving me this vibe, like silent but deadly,” Juno trailed off, smirking seductively.

Kiana’s head turned to Juno with a head shake, waving her off. “Girl, please, he’s definitely giving fifty shades of grey if it was written by a woman and had all black cast but better and I'm Ana,” She gushed with a giggle.

You were still silent from seeing Terry after all these years, he was fine as hell.

You recall Terry from your college days, where you tutored him in math. He visited you during each tutoring session.

It seems your efforts were worthwhile; he was intriguing and quite attractive, and he had also served as a Marine.

You didn't require his help for anything; you were a stubborn woman who valued your independence.

While you understood that Terry could indulge you and offer you his black credit cards, you wanted it to be you secretly. But you didn't want to be desperate.

“Hey, Y/N, didn't Terry have a big crush on you in college?” Kiana asked you in a curious tone.

You still didn't say anything as you tried to remember it. Mona waved a hand in front of your face and snapped her fingers twice, “Y/N, hey! You good?” she asked again.

“He did? He could have any woman that he wants now,” You said to them, shrugging your shoulders.

Juno placed her hands on your shoulders and faced you forward, “Don’t do that, you are smart, sexy as fuck, beautiful, and funny, your personality is amazing, I bet Terry still likes you too,” She sang playfully.

"Y/N! could meet in the conference room, please! With Terry!" Leigh shouted with a stren tone.

Juno and Kiana squealing, and jumping for joy with you. "Oh shit, it's you! I fucking knew it! Ahhhh!" Kiana squealed quietly, patting your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes at them, chuckling at them. "Relax, relax, ladies. We'll be shopping in Paris later,” you joked with a grin.

“You better mean that shit too, girl! The whole nine!” Juno yelled back, smiling like a villain.

You walked out of the break room with nervousness flowing through you, heading toward the conference room.

You pushed open the door and saw him standing behind the table in a black long sleeve tee shirt, matching pants and sneakers, gold Rolex watch on his wrist, glasses resting behind his face.

Terry turned around faced you with those green eyes of his that made your skin tingle.

Hey Y/N, how are you? It’s been a while,” he greeted you with a warm tone, his voice smooth like whiskey.

“Hey Terry, I've been better but it certainly has, I didn't expect you to be here,” You replied back, your voice still steady yet a little shaky.

“Neither did I, but I had to. There’s something important I need to discuss with you,” Terry admitted to you, stepping a bit closer.

You raised an eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. “Important? Like… business important, or personal?”

“Personal, You might want to sit down for this,” he replied, a slight smirk dancing on his lips. “You might want to sit down for this.”

You sat down on the desk chair across from him, looking into his eyes.

Terry leaned forward, his expression serious. “Y/N, I know this is unexpected, but I want to propose something to you—something that could change both our lives.”

You blinked, feeling the weight of his words. “What do you mean?”

“I want to marry you, I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve thought about it for a long time. I want you as my wife, in every sense of the word.” he stated, his eyes locked onto yours.

“Marry me? Just like that? Be honest with me Terry,” You asked him, crossing your arms with a smirk.

Terry sighed, as he leaned against the wall, his expression a mix of frustration and vulnerability.

“It’s not just that I want to be with you, My father doesn’t think I can handle the business; he’s set on handing it over to my brother, Tristan,” he admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

His shoulders slumped slightly, revealing the weight of his words.

“See, you can't fool me, Mr. Richmond, you said he was arrogant, irresponsible and a drunk asshole, wasting your parents’ money,” You recited in ‘duh’ tone while holding your fingers out to count. nodding with a soft hum.

Terry smiled and nodded at you; you understood him completely. You were both very familiar with each other.

“See? You know what I'm talking about, and you know what else my damn father said to me?” Terry asked in irritated tone, crossing his arms in frustration.

“He won't give that business to you unless you're married like himself right?” You guessed with a smirk, tilting your head to the side.

You’ve been facing some financial setbacks, obviously, you can see this marriage as a solution. With Terry, he can pay of off for everything, But you did feel the same way about Terry, you thought about it diligently.

“Mhm, yes I'll marry you, Terry Richmond. Where are the papers, I know you brought them and the officiant, always come prepared," You agreed with a mischievous grin, gently tugging at his collar.

“You know me so well, beautiful but you do know that we have to get married, have a wedding, invite our friends and families, the whole nine?” Terry asked with a clever tone, walking toward you.

You giggled with a nod, “Yes I do, I'm making sure that I know what I sign up for, we have to be smart about it. But still you were always so mysterious Terry, there may be more to you,” You reasoned with wit, your finger resting under your chin.

Terry brought out the marriage papers and the officiant from the room, the papers were signed, Terry stuffed them them neatly in the manilla folder.

Terry walked out of the conference room with you, your boss Leigh’s eyes nearly popped out of her socket, and your best friends cheered for you with glee.

“Hell yeah, that's our girl!” Kiana exclaimed with a grin, jumping up and down.

“And we're gonna be shopping in Paris and Rome, we as black women deserve everything! The gotdamn world as our own, created by us, for us!” Juno shouted with pride, nodding her head.

Juno was right about, black women deserved nothing the greatest not just the best, they deserved to be treated with respect and deserved to be treated like empresses, if they could create their own planet then they would do it in a heartbeat.

And just like that, you accepted the marriage proposal, and you quit your job. You didn't need it anymore, and your boss already pissed you off by making you work on the weekend twice.

——————

The next day, you moved in with Terry in a elegant suburban one-story home without a bunch of windows, since he remembered you telling him that you hated a house with too many windows, you liked your privacy.

You were still adjusting to the idea of living with Terry, the man who had once needed your help with math equations but now carried the weight of the world on his shoulders as a billionaire.

You had always admired his ambition; it had drawn you to him back in college. But now, as he stood in the kitchen, brewing coffee in a pair of sweatpants that clung to his toned body, you felt a spark of something deeper — a connection that ran beyond mere attraction.

"Want some?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder, his green eyes catching the morning light streaming through the window.

His voice was warm, inviting, and it sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You nodded, a smile forming on your lips. "Yeah, sure. I could use the caffeine."

As Terry prepared your coffee, you took a moment to absorb everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours.

You had gone from a cubicle life, filled with monotony and a boss who barely recognized your worth, to living with a man who was not only powerful but also incredibly attentive.

"Y/N, You okay? You seem a bit lost in thought," Terry called, breaking you from your thoughts.

He handed you a steaming mug, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Thank you, Terry,”

“You're welcome, beautiful,”

You took a sip, savoring the rich flavor before answering. "I’m just...trying to wrap my head around all of this, this feels surreal." you gestured around the cozy kitchen filled with sunlight.

Terry leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, his expression shifting from playful to serious. "I know it’s a lot to take in, but I promise you, I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t mean it. This isn't just a business arrangement for me."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You could see the determination in his eyes, the deep-seated desire to protect and cherish you. It was a side of him that you had glimpsed in college but never fully appreciated until now.

"I believe you, but what if this doesn’t work out? What if we end up hating each other?" you replied softly, your heart racing.

Terry stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. "I refuse to let that happen. I want to build something real with you. I’ve seen the darkness in this world, and I don’t want to face it alone. I want you by my side."

His vulnerability caught you off guard. You had only ever known the confident, charming Terry, but there was a depth to him that made your heart ache for him.

You wanted to know his secrets, the burdens he carried, the demons that haunted him.

"Tell me about your family, What’s your relationship with your brother like?" you urged, wanting to peel back the layers of this man who had captivated you since your college days.

Terry sighed, his expression turning pensive. "Tristan is… complicated. He was always the favorite, the golden child. My father believes he can carry on the family legacy better than I can. It’s strained our relationship. And then there’s my mother…she’s caught in the middle, trying to keep the peace."

You could sense the pain behind his words. It was a familiar struggle, one that many black families faced — the weight of expectations, the pressure to succeed, the fear of disappointment.

"I’m sorry, you don’t have to feel like you’re alone in this." you whispered, reaching out to touch his arm.

Terry looked down at your hand, then back at you. There was a flicker of something — hope, perhaps? — that danced in his eyes. "That’s exactly why I want you with me. You understand what it means to fight for your place in this world."

You smiled softly. "I do. And I’m here for it, all of it. Just promise me that we’ll communicate through the tough times."

"Always," he vowed, his voice low and sincere. You leaned in gradually and kissed his him passionately, his lush lips were soft.

You would still need to confront both his family and yours, and you hadn't even informed them that you were married to a billionaire whom you taught in college.

“I haven’t told my family about this marriage yet, and I never told them that I taught you in college, they’re gonna brag and try to take credit for it, or make themselves look good,” you sighed lowly, setting your cup down on the counter.

And in your family's minds, they would see you as the black sheep and golden child, now that you had money, you would be a scapegoat but you knew that Terry wouldn't have anyone to do that to you.

You had to cut off your family for being disrespectful and manipulative, once you moved out and lived with your best friends, you felt free for the first time.

Your mental health was bad at that point, You could finally breathe.

Terry’s face softened at you, “Y/N, you deserve to be celebrated, not criticized. If they can’t see that, then they don’t deserve a place in your life,” he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Your heart swelled at his words. It was comforting to know that you had someone who understood your struggles and was willing to stand by you.

You’d always seen Terry as a protector, and now he was offering you more than just a partnership; he was offering you a chance to redefine your life on your own terms.

“I appreciate that, Terry. You really don’t know how much that means to me,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion.

He stepped even closer, his eyes searching yours for something unspoken. “I do know, Y/N. I’ve been through my own battles, and I’ve learned that the people who truly matter are the ones who lift you up, not bring you down.”

As the mornings turned into days, you found comfort in the mundane moments spent in Terry’s home. You made the decisions on the decor and colors for the wedding, the date was set, you called your friends and they were squealing again.

You took turns cooking dinner, watched movies on lazy Sundays, and even argued over the best way to load the dishwasher. It was simple yet beautiful, and you cherished every second of it.

You had to prepare yourself for the aftermath of this wedding, you were happy to spend the rest of your life with Terry but you didn't know what else lay ahead.

———————

#black fanfiction #black!reader #notapradagurl7 #aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond smut #rebel ridge #black women #black writer #black reader #Richmond x plus size reader

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idkwhatever580 · 9 months ago

Text

I would die happy

Pairings: teen!Natasha Romanoff x teen!reader

Song Inspiration: very loosely based off of the songs Casual by Chappell Roan and Ashley by Zolita (They’re good to listen to before hand but not necessary. I’ll link them)

Prompt: what happens when “good girl” y/n breaks it off with “bad girl” Natasha and Natasha realizes she needs y/n more than she thought?

Warnings:mentions of sex, angst then fluff, mentions of death? (From the song).

Pronouns: unspecified (one use of ma’am but in a silly way)

A/N: No this is not an actual songfic. I just took inspiration from the songs so there might be a line or five in the mix. I have had these songs stuck in my head the past few days and I kept imagining like a teen romance coming out of it? Idk. Hopefully I write this better than the last one 😭

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Y/n’s pov

I am in my room doing my homework when I hear tapping on my window. I look up from my neat desk to see Natasha.

My instinct is to smile and open the window up but I freeze.

Natasha Romanoff.

Bad girl. She vandalizes things. She doesn’t participate. And she dresses like a fuck boy.

Some call her a player. Some call her a cheater.

Whatever they think there’s one thing everyone can agree on. Natasha romanoff does not do relationships.

She’s usually the one night stand type of girl but then she met me. And that’s when everyone says she went soft. She never fucked another girl other than me.

But that’s all. For half a year. All she’s ever done is sex, aftercare, leave, repeat.

Another set of tapping falls upon my ears and I zone back in. I open the window and whisper

“What are you doing here?”

Natasha crawls in and says

“Wanted to see you. You alright there? You zoned out for a sec”

I nodded my head and my eyes fall upon her necklace. It’s silver with a little arrow.

I hate myself when I think of it. I nod my head and say

“Yeah. Totally fine. Just doing some homework”

I sit back down at my desk even though I know why Natasha is here.

After a whole 6 months of this it’s hard to not know what her routine is. But I don’t want it anymore.

Obviously I caught feelings. Who wouldn’t catch feelings for her? I just thought that I would get over it. I thought that having some of her is better than none of her at all right?

Wrong.

I cry so much now. All I want is for her to love me back. But that’s not reality. She doesn’t do love. She doesn’t do relationships. And I can’t do it anymore.

Natasha walks up behind me and rubs her hands down my arms and starts kissing my neck. My body lets her do it but then I think about it and take her hands off me.

“Not tonight. I have to study”

She doesn’t let up. Because usually I like playing hard to get. So she doesn’t know. And that’s okay. It’s my fault she doesn’t know.

“I can help you relax baby”

I roll my eyes at the pet name and say

“Natasha. Can we talk?”

She stands up straighter at my use of her full name and says

“Yeah. Sure”

I can tell she is a bit surprised at me but she nods her head nevertheless.

She sits down at the foot of my bed and I roll my chair over to her.

I sigh and look at the ground.

“I don’t know how to say this, but I can’t do this anymore Natasha”

She furrows her eyebrows and says

“You can’t do what?”

“This Natasha,”

I point at her and myself

“I hate myself for letting this drag on so long because I know you. I know you don’t want a relationship. But I lo- I like you Natasha. And I want you. All to myself. I want labels and I want to go to the pier together and eat popsicles and I want you to tell your friends and I want a future with you.”

I can tell I’m overwhelming her with this information but I keep going

“But you don’t want that. And that’s okay! I understand that some things aren’t meant to last. But I can’t keep hurting myself for some fun okay? I need to heal and move on. And you can go find another toy to play with and that’s okay. I just can’t be the one you go to anymore. It’s not what I want. And our ideals clearly do not align. I thought maybe I could do it and be able to handle all of this but I can’t.”

I tear up a bit

“I can’t be casual with you. I want feelings attached and I want you to myself but you don’t want me like that. So I need to cut it off.”

I finally finish my rant and I look down feeling embarrassed.

“I’m sorry”

I apologize and she shakes her head

“Don’t apologize. I get it.”

We sit there for a minute of awkward silence and she sighs and says

“I guess I should go then”

I nod my head and sniffle a bit. She lingers like she has something to say but she ultimately leaves and on her way out of my window she says

“I’ll see you at school I guess”

I nod my head.

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It’s been a week since I cut it off with Natasha and I look rough. My friends are worried about me but I tell them I’m fine.

Even some of my teachers have asked if I’m okay. Of course I lie to them. But it’s nice to know someone cares.

I have avoided Natasha at all costs. But I still find myself thinking about her.

Her arrow necklace. God I hate myself when I think of it. Because then I think of her. And then I start crying. Or I just shut down.

Yes. I may or may not have almost said I love you the night I cut it off with her. But I didn’t want her to have to hold all of my baggage. It’s not fair. She doesn’t like me like that. And she doesn’t deserve to feel guilty for what I feel.

My friend Emerald walks up to me during a free period and she says

“Hey did you see Natasha today?”

I shake my head and say

“I don’t want to talk about her.”

She shakes her head and says

“Well you’re gonna have to listen. She is the talk of the school right now so either you hear it from me or someone else.”

I roll my eyes and say

“What Em? Does she have a new toy hanging on her shoulder?”

Clearly I’m a little ticked off about having to hear about her.

But em shakes her head and I look at her and wait for her to continue

“She’s wearing your hoodie”

I look at her and say

“My hoodie? She doesn’t have any of my clothes, except for that bra that I’ll probably never get back”

She takes out her phone and shows me my favorite hoodie. It’s the pink one that I got from the thrift store. They all knew it was mine because it has em’s name on the sleeve. And a duck on the front.

I remember now. I forgot it at her house one time after she fucked me in her beach house. That was the day everyone found out and started talking about how I’m just a girl she fucked on her couch.

I cried so much that I forgot about it. And of course she just came over to make me forget about all the things people said.

I look at her and say

“Why would she ever wear that?”

She wiggles her eyebrows at me and says

“She obviously likes you y/n”

I roll my eyes and say

“She doesn’t like me Em. From the beginning everyone has known she doesn’t do crushes.”

Em shrugs her shoulders and says

“People can change.”

I roll my eyes and get a little frustrated and say

“Leave it Em. I don’t want to talk about it.”

She puts her hands up in surrender and leaves it at that.

The rest of the day goes by slowly. But I catch a glimpse of Natasha at the end of the day. She is wearing my hoodie. She looks good in it. But she shouldn’t be wearing that. I’m not hers. And she’s not mine.

I quickly leave so she doesn’t see me. Even though we definitely made eye contact. But it’s whatever.

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It’s about 8 pm now and I’m studying again. This final is about to make or break me so I can’t let myself loosen the reigns even though it’s only a midterm.

I have my headphones on and I’m listening to classical because it apparently helps people study. I’m honestly doing anything to help me.

A hand taps my shoulder and I jump up quickly but thankfully I don’t yell.

I turn around quickly and see Natasha standing there.

I immediately get frustrated and say

“What are you doing here?”

I take a second to actually look at her and she looks like shit. Honestly she is looking at me like a lost puppy. Like she hasn’t been in my room for six months. Her hair is a mess, shes still in my hoodie, and the bags under her eyes indicate that she hasn’t been sleeping well. I almost feel bad for her. Then I remember I can’t let my feelings get in the way. She says

“I um… I wanted to talk to you”

I sigh and say

“Well what is it? I’m listening?”

I feel bad for being so short with her but I can’t do it any other way or else I’ll break down.

She kind of stands there for a second and I sit down on my bed and pat it. I might as well be nice to her. She’s not a horrible person anyways.

She shakes her head slightly and keeps standing. I look at her and say

“You wanted to talk?”

She nods her head and says

“I don’t know how to say this but… I- I need you y/n”

I have never seen Natasha cry once. But she immediately breaks down in front of me

“I can’t do this without you. I need you so bad I just want all of you. I thought that if I convinced myself that it was for the better, that if I said I wanted this it would come true. But it’s not true I- I love you and I know you are probably over me by now and that’s okay I just need to tell you that I want you and only you. I know I’ve never done anything like this but I want to I want to change. I want to be good. For you. I want to take you on dates and tell everyone about you. And I don’t think I can do this without you because life is like a bad dream without you and I didn’t even realize what I had until I lost it!”

She starts crying. I start tearing up at her confession and I say

“Stop it. Stop it Natasha.”

It’s short and snippy because I’m about to cry.

“You can’t just say those things and pull at my heart just to get into my pants okay? I’m sorry that nobody wanted to get with you but I cannot just go crawling back to you if you just lie to me to get me back”

She looks at me and she shakes her head aggressively and says

“No. No I don’t. I don’t want to get into your pants I actually love you. I didn’t even know it because I’ve never felt love before y/n. Please you have to understand me I love you. I love you so much and I want a future with you. I was just scared but I’m not scared anymore I want you!”

She drops to her knees and tries to calm down a bit and says

“I understand if you don’t want me but I want you. I want to be your girlfriend. I want to introduce you to my friends and family. And- and I know my past doesn’t help anything. My reputation is probably your biggest fear but I can’t imagine my life without it. I’ve never been the sappy type but I’m telling the truth. If loving you kills me then I will die happy y/n”

I look at her from my bed and I see the genuine look in her eyes. I tear up again and the I get down from my bed and she looks down. It’s like she’s worshipping me. Like if she doesn’t she might lose me.

I envelope her in a hug and she starts crying into me. And I say

“Tell me that you love me and you won’t leave me.”

She looks at me with tears running down her face and her nose is sniffly and she says with such confdence

“I love you y/n. Nothing can change that. I won’t ever leave you. Not even if I could. I want to be yours”

I smile at her as she waits for me to answer and I grab her head and lean into her. I kiss her.

This kiss is different than any other kiss I’ve ever shared with her. It’s soft and tender. And full of love. I don’t even care that her tears and boogers are getting on me.

I don’t care. I just love her. I pull away and giggle and she kind of sits in criss cross. And I say

“Natasha. I love you too. I’ve loved you for a while now. I was just scared to say it.”

She sends me a dopey smile. I’ve never seen her smile at me like that. I like it. So I boop her nose and say

“Cute.”

She scrunches up her nose and says

“I’m everything but cute right now.”

I shake my head and say

“You’re always cute.”

I kiss her again after she wipes her face off and it’s sweet. I pull her into my lap and she says

“I don’t like this.”

Normally I guess she would be more comfortable with me on her lap. But I don’t care.

“I guess you’re just gonna have to suck it up.”

We sit on my floor for a bit and I say

“Oh shit! It’s late.”

I check the time and say

“It’s nine o’clock already! You have to get home baby”

She stops at the nickname and says

“Wait. So… are we?”

I giggle and say

“After all of that? There’s no way we’re not dating. So yes. I’m gonna call you baby. But you need to go home and I need sleep”

She smiles and says

“Can I have a hug before I go?”

I nod my head and pull her in for a long hug.

I kiss her head and then her nose and then her lips and say

“I love you. Now go. I’ll pick you up for school tomorrow?”

She usually walks to school and I drive but I want to pick her up now. She nods her head and I stop her before she leaves my window and I say

“And I want my hoodie back.”

She laughs softly and says

“No way. It’s mine now.”

Then I pull her back in to me and distract her with a kiss. I say

“Well then. I guess this is mine now”

I swiftly pull the hoodie she has on right now off of her and she pouts and says

“Aw man. That’s a good hoodie.”

I smile and say

“Only the best for me right?”

She smiles finally and nods her head and I say

“Text me when you get home okay?”

She nods her head and says

“Yes ma’am”

I giggle and shake my head. I watch as she walks off into the night and I hop onto my bed and cuddle my stuffed animal with a bright smile on my face.

All of that heartache must have been worth it.

She was right. If loving her kills me, then I would die happy.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

A/N: I actually kind of like how this one turned out. I know I pulled from the songs a lot but at least it was built into the words and not like a normal songfic lol. Because I’ve heard that many people do not like songfics :)

#natasha x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel #fanfic #avengers

565 notes · View notes

qwibkwib · 10 days ago

Text

On the Cliff,

Part 2

part 1

Park Jiwon (Fromis_9) X Male reader

Word Count: 11.7k+

a/n: Few days after the 1st part.

The steady hum of the office barely registers in your mind—the clatter of keyboards, the muffled conversations, the occasional shrill ring of a phone. It’s all just background noise, drowned out by the thoughts you can’t seem to shake.

Jiwon.

You stare at the contract in front of you, the words blurring into meaningless lines of text. Your pen rests idle in your hand, tapping against the desk in an erratic rhythm. It’s been fifteen minutes, and you haven’t flipped a page.

She left.

Slipped away before the sun even rose, without a word, without a trace—except for the crumpled bills she left on the nightstand.

Your jaw tightens at the memory. Did she really think it was just a one-night thing? That she could simply walk away and pay it off like some meaningless transaction? The thought settles in your chest like a dull ache, an irritation you can't quite ignore.

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply.

You’re not the type to dwell on these things. And yet, here you are.

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

“Sir,” comes a familiar voice, laced with just the right amount of exasperation. “If you’re done brooding dramatically, the board meeting is in thirty minutes. You know, the thing that actually pays your bills?”

You glance up to find Jihoon standing in the doorway, a stack of documents in his hands, the usual tired patience in his expression.

“Brooding?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t brood.”

Jihoon snorts, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “Right. And I’m quitting tomorrow.” He drops the files onto your desk with a dull thud. “You’ve been staring at that page like it’s about to confess its undying love for you. Which, by the way, is kind of unsettling.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “I was thinking.”

“Oh, I can tell. Must be exhausting for you.” Jihoon crosses his arms, watching you closely. “Let me guess—woman trouble?”

You don’t answer, which only makes his grin widen.

“Called it. So, what’s her name?”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before muttering, “Park Jiwon.”

Jihoon’s brow furrows for a moment, then his eyes widen slightly in recognition. “Wait... Park Jiwon? As in Park Sangho’s daughter?”

The name sits on your tongue uncomfortably. “Park Sangho?”

Jihoon nods. “Yeah, Park Sangho. CEO of Park Conglomerate. Or what’s left of it. They’ve been struggling for a while now.” He pauses, eyeing you carefully. “And his daughter... well, there’s been talk about her getting married off to Director Kang.”

Your fingers tap against the desk. Kang. You know the name well enough—ruthless in business, worse with women. The kind of man who takes what he wants without a second thought.

Jihoon smirks. “Sounds like she dodged a bullet, running into you instead.”

You don’t laugh. If anything, the thought irritates you more. Jiwon thought she could slip away quietly, disappear before anyone noticed. Too bad she met you instead.

Reaching into your drawer, you pull out the grainy black-and-white photo—the one you got from the paparazzi before they had a chance to release it. You and Jiwon, walking into the hotel together.

You should have deleted it, like you always do. But this time, you didn’t.

You slide the photo across the desk. “Spread it.”

Jihoon blinks. “You serious? This’ll stir up a mess.”

“That’s the point.” Your voice is steady, calculated.

Jihoon gives you a long look before shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You watch him pick up the photo, your mind already working three steps ahead.

Jiwon didn’t know your name when she left.

But soon enough, she’d have no choice but to remember it.

She thought she could run.

But you’re not done with her yet.

A Few Days Later

You sit at your desk, staring at the glossy tablet in front of you. The bold headline screams back at you, accompanied by the grainy photo of you and Jiwon entering the hotel that night.

“Park Jiwon: Desperate Heiress or CEO Yoon’s Latest Fling?”

The article dances around the idea with just enough venom to sting. It paints Jiwon as a woman clinging to survival, her family’s struggling business hanging by a thread, subtly implying that she’s using you to climb her way back up.

You should have seen this coming. Hell, you did see it coming. You were the one who leaked the photo, after all. And yet, something about the way they talk about her—like she’s nothing more than a desperate opportunist—makes your jaw tighten.

Your grip on the tablet hardens before you toss it onto the desk, exhaling sharply.

The intercom buzz “Sir, your grandmother is here to see you—”.

You barely have time to let that information settle before your office door swings open without warning.

"Where are you?!"

You don't need to look up to know who it is. The sharp, authoritative voice—tinged with just enough warmth to remind you she still cares—belongs to only one person.

Your grandmother.

With Jihoon following after her.

"Do you ever knock?" you mutter, running a hand through your hair as she marches in, holding up the same tabloid you were just glaring at.

"I don't need to knock when my dear grandson's face is plastered all over the media with a young woman he's clearly trying to ruin!" she huffs, dropping the magazine onto your desk with a disapproving glare. "Care to explain, dear?"

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. "It’s just a photo. The media exaggerates everything, you know that."

Your grandmother eyes you sternly, lips pursed in that way that makes you feel like you're fifteen again, being scolded for skipping out on family dinners. "Don't play dumb with me, Dear. I taught you better than that."

Before you can offer another half-hearted excuse, her expression softens—just slightly—as she picks up the tablet and runs her fingers over Jiwon’s picture.

"This poor girl," she murmurs, almost to herself. "I remember Park Jiwon. Such a sweet child when I last saw her. Always so polite and thoughtful.” Her eyes flick back to you, sharp once more. “Unlike someone I know.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "I'm sure she’s doing just fine, Grandmother."

"Hmph," she scoffs. "Fine? With her father’s company sinking and now the press tarnishing her name?" She fixes you with a look that could cut through steel. "Tell me, dear. Did you even consider how this might affect her?"

You don't answer right away, which only makes her sigh in disappointment. "Of course you didn't. You're too busy playing your little power games to see what's right in front of you."

Your jaw tightens. "She left me, you know."

Your grandmother raises a delicate brow. "Oh, poor you. A woman left you for once in your life."

You grit your teeth. "That's not the point."

"No," she agrees, settling into the chair across from you. "The point is, you caused a scandal, and now the least you can do is take responsibility."

You arch a brow. "What exactly are you suggesting?"

She gives you a pointed look, folding her hands neatly in her lap. "Marry her."

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me, dear." Her tone is sweet, but there's steel beneath it. "You've already dragged her name through the mud. The decent thing to do would be to make an honest woman out of her."

You let out a humorless chuckle. "And let me guess, this has nothing to do with your constant nagging about settling down?"

"Of course it does," she says matter-of-factly, offering a saccharine smile. "But more importantly, it would be a mutually beneficial arrangement. She needs protection from vultures like Director Kang, and you..." She tilts her head. "You need someone who won’t let you get away with this nonsense anymore."

You exhale, pacing toward the window. Marry Jiwon? The idea should be absurd. You don’t do marriage, relationships, or anything that even remotely resembles commitment. And yet…

Your grandmother watches you closely, her voice softer now. "She's a good girl, Seojoon. And I have no doubt she can handle you."

You glance back at the photo on your desk. Jiwon, with her hesitant smile and those guarded eyes.

Maybe she could.

But claiming her—making her yours—wasn’t about saving her. It never was.

It was about something far more selfish.

You turn back to your grandmother, expression unreadable. "And if I refuse?"

She smiles knowingly. "Then I’ll do what I always do—make your life a living hell until you see reason."

You sigh, rubbing your temple. "Of course you will."

"Good." She stands, smoothing out her coat with deliberate care. "Call her now. Arrange a meeting."

"Now?" You blink, surprised by her urgency.

Your grandmother gives you a pointed look. "Yes, now. Do you think I don't know you, dear?"

You lean back in your chair, stalling. "I don't even have her number."

She merely lifts a brow, unimpressed. "Then call her family."

Before you can protest, her gaze shifts to Jihoon, who straightens under the silent command. Without hesitation, he pulls out his phone, his fingers moving swiftly over the screen. Within moments, he steps forward, presenting the device to you with an expectant expression.

The call screen stares back at you, one press away from dialing.

Park Conglomerate.

You glance between the phone and your grandmother, who offers you a sweet yet undeniably stern smile. "Go on, dear. I'm waiting."

You exhale slowly, your fingers hovering over the screen.

Jiwon thought she could leave quietly, slip away without a trace.

She was wrong.

Jiwon let out a tired sigh as she stepped into her bedroom, the weight of the day settling heavily on her shoulders. The soft click of the door behind her sealed her in the quiet sanctuary of her space, a brief moment of solitude she desperately needed.

She walked over to her desk, her movements slow and deliberate, fingers reaching up to remove the delicate earrings that adorned her ears. One by one, she placed them on the glass tray beside her scattered notes and half-empty coffee cups. The cool air brushed against her skin, but her mind was elsewhere.

No matter how much she tried to push it aside, the memories of that night refused to leave her mind. They clung to her like a second skin, vivid and unrelenting, replaying in her thoughts when she least expected it. She could still feel his touch—firm, demanding, yet oddly tender. The way his hands had roamed her body, possessive yet reverent, as if he were memorizing every curve, every inch of her. The heat of his lips tracing along her neck, the scrape of his teeth against her sensitive skin, the way his breath had hitched when she shivered under his touch. It had been overwhelming, intoxicating, and she had been powerless to resist.

Her fingertips grazed the side of her neck absently, recalling the ghost of his touch. She could still feel the faint ache where he had marked her, the memory of his mouth on her skin sending a shiver down her spine. She shouldn’t be thinking about it, shouldn’t be replaying every stolen moment, but she was. It was as if he’d left an invisible mark that wouldn’t fade, a brand that lingered long after the night had ended.

She closed her eyes, and the images came flooding back—his body pressing against hers, the weight of him pinning her to the bed, the way his hips had moved with a rhythm that left her breathless. She could still feel the way he had filled her, the stretch and burn giving way to a pleasure so intense it had left her trembling. His voice, low and rough in her ear, murmuring words she could barely comprehend through the haze of desire. “Moan for me, Jiwon… let it all out.”

Her breath hitched as she remembered the way his hands had gripped her hips, guiding her movements, his touch both commanding and gentle. The way he had looked at her, his dark eyes filled with a hunger that had both terrified and thrilled her. She had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, yet so utterly desired. And when he had finally brought her to the edge, her body arching into his as she fell apart.

Even now, the memory of it made her pulse quicken, her skin flushing with heat. She could still feel the way his lips had claimed hers, the way his tongue had tangled with hers in a kiss that had left her dizzy. The way his hands had explored her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. The way he had whispered her name, his voice rough with need, as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

She shouldn’t be thinking about it. She shouldn’t be craving the feel of his hands on her skin, the weight of his body pressing her into the mattress, the way he had made her feel so alive, so wanted. But she was. And no matter how hard she tried to push the memories away, they always came back, more vivid, more consuming than before. It was as if he had awakened something in her, something she couldn’t ignore, no matter how much she tried.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing over her collarbone, and she could almost feel his lips following the same path, his breath hot against her skin. She bit her lip, her body betraying her as a flush of warmth spread through her. She shouldn’t be thinking about it. But she was. And she couldn’t stop.

It was just one night, she reminded herself, shaking her head as if to dispel the thoughts. A mistake.

She sighed, pulling her hair loose from its clip, letting the strands fall around her shoulders. Maybe some sleep would finally help clear her mind.

But just as she reached for her journal, a sudden, thunderous voice shattered the calm.

"JIWON!"

Her father’s voice, laced with pure, unrestrained rage, echoed through the house. The sound of her name being screamed like that sent a shiver down her spine. She barely had time to react before the heavy, relentless banging on her door followed.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

"Open this door right now!" her father bellowed, his fists hammering against the wood with enough force to rattle it in its frame.

Jiwon's breath caught in her throat, heart pounding wildly in her chest. Her mind raced, trying to figure out what had set him off this time, but deep down, she had a sinking feeling she already knew.

Swallowing hard, she took a step toward the door, her fingers trembling slightly as they hovered over the handle.

"I said open it!" he roared again, the anger in his voice cutting through her hesitation like a knife.

Jiwon closed her eyes for a brief second, bracing herself for whatever storm was about to come crashing through that door. She inhaled shakily, steadying herself before unlocking it.

Before she could even turn the knob, the door swung open violently, slamming into her and making her stumble back.

“You fucking bitch!” Her father’s voice tore through the air like a blade, sharp and unforgiving.

“Fa—Father…” Jiwon’s voice wavered as she tried to meet his eyes, but before she could—

Slap.

The force of his hand sent her head snapping to the side, a sharp sting blooming across her cheek.

"I raised you, and this is how you repay me?" His voice was a furious snarl. "I should have listened—I should have left you with your mother. Her filthy blood runs through you. Just like her, you're nothing but a disgrace."

Jiwon trembled, her vision blurring as tears welled in her eyes. Her mind struggled to catch up with what was happening, the shock paralyzing her.

“F-Father, wh—what? Wh-why?” she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, trembling with fear.

"Don't you dare pretend you don't know!" he roared, stepping closer, his grip seizing her wrist with crushing force. "I told you to be obedient, to marry Director Kang, and now you're out there sleeping with another man? Do you have any idea how this makes me look? How it tarnishes my company’s reputation?"

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her tears spilling over. “Father… I—I was mistaken, I—”

“Mistaken?!” He yanked her forward, dragging her across the entryway. “You're not my daughter anymore! You’ve humiliated me for the last time.”

“Please, Father, wait—” she sobbed, struggling against his iron grip, but he ignored her, dragging her toward the front door. The harsh fluorescent lighting above made everything feel even colder, emptier.

From the grand staircase, her stepmother watched with an unsettling calm, her lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. She didn’t move, didn’t speak—just observed, as if this was nothing more than an inevitability she had been waiting for.

"You want to act like a whore? Then go and live like one!" he spat, throwing the door open and shoving her out onto the cold pavement outside. Jiwon staggered, barely catching herself before she fell.

Her father turned away without a second glance, already dismissing her existence. But her stepmother lingered.

Her stepmother stands before the gate, arms crossed, a thin smile tugging at her lips. For a moment, she simply observed, as if savoring the sight of Jiwon trembling.

Jiwon swallowed hard, lifting tearful eyes. “Mother, please…”

Her stepmother crouched gracefully, her touch deceptively gentle as she tucked a stray strand of hair behind Jiwon’s ear. “Oh, Jiwon,” she sighed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “You always were so naive.”

Jiwon’s lips trembled, guilt pressing down on her chest. “I… I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Her stepmother smiled, but it never reached her eyes. “Of course you didn’t, dear. You never do, do you?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue in mock disapproval. “But intentions don’t erase consequences.”

Jiwon looked down, shame crawling through her. “I just… I thought…”

Her stepmother's fingers tightened slightly on her chin, lifting her face. “You thought you could play in a world that doesn't belong to you,” she said softly, though there was something sharp beneath her words, something cruel. “You thought you could be reckless and not pay the price. But you’re just like your mother, aren’t you? Always chasing things beyond your reach.”

Jiwon blinked rapidly, her stepmother's words slicing through her defenses with precision. "I—I didn't mean to—"

Her stepmother laughed lightly, standing back up. “I know, dear. But mistakes like yours? They leave stains that don’t wash off easily.” She glanced at the looming gates. “You’ve embarrassed your father for the last time. It’s better this way.”

Jiwon nodded slowly, tears falling freely now. Deep down, she believed it too. This was her fault. No one else’s.

Her stepmother turned back toward the house, pausing at the threshold. She tilted her head, watching Jiwon with a smile that didn’t match the satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Take care of yourself, Jiwon,” she said sweetly, before glancing at the guards. “Close it.”

As the gates groaned shut, sealing her out, her stepmother’s voice drifted through the cold air one last time. ��Don’t worry, dear. I’ll convince your father to at least continue treating your mother. Someone has to think of her well-being, after all.”

She stood frozen, chest heaving, her hands trembling as they clutched the fabric of her dress. The cold night air bit at her skin, her hair falling in disheveled strands around her face. Her cheek still burned from the slap, and the ache in her chest threatened to crush her.

Then, her phone vibrated in her pocket, the sudden buzz cutting through the suffocating silence. With shaking hands, she fumbled it out, her blurred vision struggling to focus on the screen.

A notification.

Breaking News: Heir of Park Conglomerate spotted with chaebol bachelor—scandal unfolds.

Jiwon's breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded violently as she stared at the photo accompanying the headline—her and him, stepping into the hotel together, the grainy image unmistakably damning.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, the cold metal trembling against her skin.

The realization hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with relentless force.

She should have known better.

She should have never let herself be so reckless, so desperate for something—anything—that she thought for even a moment he could offer her.

She was the one who let him too close.

She was the one who fell for the way he touched her, the way he looked at her like she was something more than just a pawn in her father’s plans.

She was the one who let a single night ruin everything.

You watch as Jihoon dials the number, his expression calm and professional. The phone rings a few times before someone on the other end picks up.

"Hello, this is Park Group. How may I assist you?" a polite yet detached voice answers.

Jihoon leans slightly forward. "Good evening, this is Jihoon from J Group. We’d like to speak with Chairman Park regarding an important matter."

There’s a brief pause, a faint shuffle on the other end before the voice responds. "Please hold, I'll transfer you to the chairman."

Jihoon meets your eyes, giving you a subtle nod as he waits. A few seconds later, the line clicks.

"This is Chairman Park," the familiar, calculated voice filters through the speaker.

Jihoon quickly hands you the phone, his voice steady but respectful. "Sir, Chairman Park is on the line. I've introduced you as the CEO of J Group."

You take the phone, your grip firm, and bring it to your ear. "Chairman Park," you say evenly.

A brief silence, then his voice, smooth and unreadable, replies, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

“I’d like to discuss a potential marriage arrangement,” you cut straight to the point, feeling the weight of your grandmother’s gaze on you. She’s watching carefully, waiting for every word.

The line falls silent for a moment too long. Then, Chairman Park’s voice, still smooth but with an underlying note of surprise, responds. “A marriage arrangement? Isn’t this... sudden?”

You lean back in your chair, the cool surface of the desk beneath your fingertips grounding you. “Circumstances have changed. I believe it would be in both our interests to resolve this sooner rather than later.”

There’s another silence, as if the man is considering your words carefully. Then, after a pause, he speaks again. “Very well.”

You nod, though he can’t see you. “Perfect. I’ll send you the address, Lets meet there later at 8. ”

But then, you can’t help it — you have to ask. “And Jiwon?”

For a moment, the line is quiet again, and when Chairman Park responds, his tone is careful, almost rehearsed. “She’s... currently unavailable.”

You don’t let it slide. “I’d still like to speak with her.”

There’s a shift in his tone, subtle but noticeable. “She’s resting. This has been... overwhelming for her, as you can imagine.”

Your brow furrows, but you keep your voice steady. “I’d like to hear that from her myself.”

He laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. “You’re persistent, Don’t you think?”

“I have to be,” you reply, your grip on the phone tightening. Something doesn’t feel right.

Another pause, then, “I’m afraid Jiwon isn’t in a position to talk right now. But don’t worry, you’ll see her soon enough.”

Your eyes narrow, your instincts prickling with unease. Something isn’t adding up. You exchange a glance with your grandmother, who’s watching you closely. The unease swirling in your chest tightens.

“Understood,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s an edge to it now. “I’ll see you tonight.”

You hang up, the silence of the room heavy in the wake of the conversation. Your grandmother’s eyes are on you, sharp as ever.

“What is it?” she asks, sensing the shift in you.

You place the phone down, your fingers lingering on the edge as you stare at it. Something is wrong. The way Chairman Park avoided your questions, the way he kept circling around Jiwon’s whereabouts... you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this than he’s letting on.

“So… did they agree?” your grandmother asks impatiently, her sharp eyes studying you like a hawk.

"Yeah, later at eight," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. "Jihoon will send you the address."

She nods, satisfied for now, but you can feel the weight of her expectations pressing down on you.

You rise from your chair abruptly, already reaching for your coat. “I have to go somewhere first,” you say, your mind racing ahead.

Jihoon, standing quietly by the door, perks up at your sudden movement. His eyes flick to yours, waiting for instructions.

"Wait for my call," you add, pulling on your coat with a sense of urgency. "Just in case."

Jihoon gives a curt nod, understanding the unspoken tension in your voice. “Understood.”

You don’t wait for another word. With each step out of the office, the uneasy feeling in your chest grows heavier. Something isn’t right—Chairman Park was hiding something, and you weren’t going to sit around and find out what it was the hard way.

As you step outside, the cold air biting against your skin, one thought lingers in your mind.

Where are you, Jiwon?

Jiwon sits hunched over at the bar, her fingers trembling around the glass as she takes another sip. The alcohol burns down her throat, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in her chest. The same dim lighting, the same hushed murmurs of conversation around her—it’s almost comforting. Almost.

Her reflection stares back at her from the glossy surface of the counter, a ghost of the person she used to be. Her cheeks are swollen, a faint imprint of her father’s anger still visible against her skin. Her hair is disheveled, her clothes wrinkled and clinging to her like a bad memory. She swirls the amber liquid in her glass, biting down the sob rising in her throat.

"Rough night?" The bartender’s voice is gentle, but wary. She doesn’t look up, just nods and takes another sip.

"You sure you’re okay, miss?" he presses, his concern deepening. "You've been here a while."

Before she can answer, a voice cuts through the air from behind her. Deep, steady, and far too familiar.

"I’m with her."

Jiwon stiffens, the glass freezing midair. Her pulse quickens, the weight of his presence settling over her like an iron chain. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is.

Of course he would find her.

“You’re here again, drinking, alone.” Your voice is soft, almost too soft—tinged with something that sounds dangerously close to concern. “I thought I told you not to do that.”

Jiwon doesn't turn around right away. She takes another slow sip, staring down into her glass as if it holds all the answers she’s desperately looking for. When she finally speaks, her voice is light, almost joking—but devoid of any real joy.

“Ah... you’re here, Mister CEO.” A dry chuckle escapes her lips, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I should’ve known.”

She swallows hard, her fingers tightening around the glass. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful,” she murmurs, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for this to happen… I didn’t think someone would take a picture of us.”

Her eyes, glassy and unfocused, blink rapidly, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this scandal.”

She’s blaming herself.

A slow, almost amused smile tugs at the corner of your lips. How easily she takes the fall—so eager to carry the weight of it all on those delicate shoulders. It’s almost endearing, really, how she thinks this is her doing.

She has no idea.

No idea that you’re the one who set this all in motion, that every step she’s taken has been within the palm of your hand. And yet, she looks at you with those trusting, guilt-ridden eyes, as if you’re her only lifeline.

You lean in slightly, watching her crumble, savoring the way she still believes you’re the victim here.

It’s almost too easy.

You notice the swollen redness marring her cheek, a stark contrast against her pale skin. It doesn’t take much to piece it together—who did it, why it happened. A slow, simmering anger coils in your chest, familiar and possessive. It always makes you mad when someone lays a hand on what’s yours. And this time is no different.

Your jaw tightens, but your voice remains smooth, unwavering. “Stop drinking,” you say, reaching for the half-empty glass in front of her and sliding it away. “Tidy yourself up. We have somewhere to go.”

She blinks up at you, confusion flickering through the haze in her eyes. You can tell she wants to protest, but something in your tone leaves no room for argument.

You watch as she swallows hard, her fingers trembling slightly before they reach for a napkin, dabbing at the corner of her mouth as if that alone could erase the evidence of what happened.

Good. She’s learning.

Once again, Jiwon found herself following him without hesitation, as if it were second nature. Despite everything that had happened, despite the turmoil in her heart, she couldn't fight the invisible pull he had on her. It was undeniable—an unspoken force that drew her in, compelling her to trust him when she knew she shouldn’t.

He led her to his car and slid in first without a word, his presence commanding in its quiet intensity. With a simple gesture, he motioned for her to join him. And she did. She settled into the passenger seat, her pulse thrumming in her ears, a heavy silence stretching between them.

As he reached for his phone, his voice cut through the stillness, sharp and composed. “Jihoon, get me a dress for a lady. I’ll wait by the lot behind the office.” His tone was cool, effortless—like he was always in control.

A brief pause followed, then his eyes flickered to her, lingering just long enough to make her breath hitch. “As for sizes…” he trailed off, clearly expecting her to respond.

Caught off guard, Jiwon’s cheeks flushed. She fidgeted with the hem of her sleeve, her voice barely above a whisper. “Um… I’m a small. My measurements are…” She hesitated before murmuring the numbers, feeling an odd sense of vulnerability under his unwavering gaze.

He listened in silence, his expression giving nothing away. With a curt nod, he relayed the details to Jihoon and ended the call.

The hum of the engine filled the air, the steady rhythm amplifying the tension between them. Jiwon sat stiffly, hands clasped tightly in her lap, her thoughts racing. She could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting, but she kept her eyes fixed outside the window, watching the blur of city lights pass by.

A quiet sigh escaped him, breaking the stillness. She risked a glance in his direction, anxiety coiling in her chest. Was he disappointed? Angry? The uncertainty gnawed at her, making the silence feel suffocating.

The drive stretched on, each passing moment only deepening the questions swirling in her mind. Her fingers toyed nervously with her coat, the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her.

When they finally pulled into the parking lot, Jiwon held her breath. He parked but didn’t move, his hands resting lightly on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed ahead. The silence thickened, settling heavily between them.

Stealing another glance at him, she found him staring into the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable—watching, waiting.

“Why are we here?” she asked, her voice fragile, barely a whisper. Her eyes stayed on the dashboard, afraid of what she might see in his face. “Why did you bring me here?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then, with a quiet exhale, he finally turned to her. His gaze was steady, piercing. “You looked like you needed somewhere to go,” he said simply.

Jiwon swallowed, her fingers trembling as she gripped her coat tighter. “I… I didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she murmured. “I just… didn’t know where else to go.”

His eyes lingered on her, the weight of his silence making her stomach twist. Then, after a moment, he reached out—his fingers grazing the back of her hand, a touch so light it sent a shiver through her. “You’re not trouble,” he said, his voice softer now, laced with something unfamiliar. “But you shouldn’t be out there alone. Not like this.”

Her throat tightened. “I didn’t have anywhere else,” she admitted, voice breaking. “My father… he…”

She couldn’t finish. The memory of his harsh words, the sting of his slap, still clung to her like a shadow. But she didn’t have to say it—he already knew.

His jaw clenched, a dark flicker in his gaze. “Your father’s a fool,” he said flatly, leaving no room for argument. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Jiwon blinked, caught off guard by the quiet anger simmering beneath his words. She had expected indifference, maybe even judgment—but not this. Not the fierce protectiveness lurking behind his calm demeanor.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” she whispered. “I never thought… I never thought someone would take a picture of us. I didn’t think it would turn into this.”

He studied her intently, as if searching for something beneath the surface. Then, with a slow exhale, he leaned back, his hand still lightly resting against hers. “It’s not your fault,” he said, voice steady but resolute. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Her chest tightened, a lump forming in her throat. “But I did,” she murmured. “I should’ve been more careful. I shouldn’t have—”

He cut her off with a touch—gentle but firm as his fingers brushed her cheek. The warmth of it burned through the cold she felt inside. “You don’t have to be careful with me,” he said, his tone unwavering. “Not anymore.”

Jiwon’s breath caught. The way he looked at her—dark, possessive, and yet… protective—made her feel things she couldn’t quite name. Things she wasn’t sure she should feel.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked, voice trembling. “Why do you care?”

His eyes never wavered from hers, his expression serious. “Because you’re mine,” he said, the words carrying a quiet intensity that left no room for doubt. “And I don’t let anyone take what’s mine.”

A shiver ran down her spine. There was something about the way he said it—calm, certain, as if it was an undeniable truth. She wasn’t sure whether to feel terrified or safe.

Before she could find the words to respond, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the lot. Jihoon emerged from the shadows, a garment bag draped over his arm and a pair of heels in hand.

He offered a polite, reassuring smile as he handed the items through the open window. “Here you go,” he said, his tone light but professional. “I think you’ll like it.”

Jiwon hesitated before taking the bag, her hands trembling slightly. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Jihoon nodded, his gaze briefly flickering toward the man beside her before stepping back. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, the respect in his voice unmistakable.

As he walked away, Jiwon turned back to him, her heart still racing. “What… what is this for?” she asked, her voice tinged with unease.

His eyes met hers, unwavering. “Dinner,” he said simply. “With your father.”

Jiwon’s breath stilled, and she clutched the garment bag tightly, the soft fabric crinkling under her trembling fingers. “Dinner?” she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. “With my father?”

He gave a slight nod, his expression unreadable yet strangely reassuring. “Yes,” he said, his tone even. “To discuss our upcoming marriage.”

Jiwon froze, her lips parting in shock. “M-Marriage?” she stammered, her wide eyes searching his face for some hint of a joke. But there was none. His expression remained calm, composed—completely serious.

“Yes,” he repeated smoothly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It’s the next logical step, don’t you think?”

Jiwon shook her head slowly, disbelief washing over her. “I… I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Why would you—why would we…?”

He leaned back slightly, watching her with that same steady gaze that always made her feel like he was ten steps ahead of her. “Because it’s what’s best for you,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Your father will listen to reason if he knows you’re in good hands.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she could barely form the words. “But we’re not… we’re not really…”

His lips curled into a faint smile, his fingers tapping lightly against the steering wheel. “Not yet,” he said, tilting his head as if considering something. “But we could be. It’s a solution to your problems, Jiwon. You’ll have security, protection—everything you need.”

Jiwon’s fingers clenched the garment bag tighter, her mind racing. Everything about this felt overwhelming, too sudden, too unreal. She barely even knew what to say. “But marriage isn’t something you can just—just decide like this.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering, laced with quiet persuasion. “I’m not forcing you,” he said, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. “But think about it. No more running, no more uncertainty. Your father will have no reason to push you away anymore.”

Jiwon swallowed hard, her thoughts swirling in chaos. She had spent so long feeling lost, unwanted—always fighting to prove herself. And here he was, offering a way out, a way to fix everything, even if it felt… too easy. Too perfect.

“I…” Her voice faltered, and she looked away, staring down at the fabric in her lap. “It just feels… so sudden.”

A soft chuckle escaped him. “Life rarely waits for us to catch up, Jiwon.” He reached out, his fingers grazing the back of her hand, sending a shiver up her spine. “Trust me. This is the right move.”

Her heart fluttered at his touch, her mind screaming at her to think, to question—but all she could feel was the steady pull he had over her, the way his words made everything seem so inevitable.

“I need to think,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

He nodded, as if he had already expected that. “Of course. Take your time,” he said smoothly. “But tonight, just come to dinner. Let your father see that you're not alone.”

Jiwon exhaled shakily, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on her. She didn't trust herself to argue anymore. “Okay,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Good girl.” His smile was small but satisfied, and Jiwon couldn’t help but feel like she had just taken a step onto a path she didn’t fully understand.

“Where… where should I change?” she asked hesitantly, her voice soft and uncertain.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the rearview mirror as if he were barely paying attention. “Here,” he said, his tone indifferent, almost bored. “You’re not walking through the building like that, and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Jiwon exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around the garment bag as she sat in the passenger seat. The air in the car felt heavy, charged with a tension she couldn’t quite place. He had told her to change right there, in the front seat, and though his tone had been indifferent at first, something about the way he’d said it made her pulse quicken.

“Here?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her cheeks already burning at the thought.

He didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed on the steering wheel, his expression unreadable. “Unless you’d rather walk through the building like that,” he said, his tone calm, almost bored. “Your choice.”

Jiwon hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest. She glanced down at her wrinkled clothes, the faint scent of alcohol still clinging to her. He was right—she couldn't be seen like this and she couldn’t exactly walk into the dinner looking like this. But the idea of changing in the car, with him just inches away, made her stomach twist with nervousness.

“Okay,” she whispered finally, her voice trembling. She unzipped the garment bag, her fingers fumbling as she pulled out the dress. It was a soft pink, simple but elegant, with delicate straps and a fitted silhouette. She glanced at him again, but he wasn’t looking at her his eyes were fixed on the windshield, his expression detached.

She took a deep breath, her hands trembling as she began to undress. She slipped off her coat first, then her shoes, her movements careful but hurried. She could feel the weight of his presence beside her, calm and steady, but there was something about the way he was sitting his jaw tight, his hands gripping the steering wheel that made her heart race.

When she began to unbutton her blouse, she felt it the shift in the air. It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible, but then she heard it: the faintest intake of breath, the softest rustle of fabric as he adjusted his position.

Her heart skipped a beat, her hands freezing mid-motion. She glanced at him, her cheeks burning as she realized his gaze was no longer fixed on the windshield.

His eyes were on her now, dark and intense, and there was something in his expression something heated, almost predatory that made her stomach twist.

“I… I thought you weren’t going to look,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he finally spoke. “I wasn’t,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you make it difficult not to.”

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes something possessive, almost hungry that made her stomach twist with a mix of fear and something else she couldn’t quite name. She should protest, should demand he look away, but the way he was looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered made it impossible to think clearly.

Her fingers trembled as she finished unbuttoning her blouse, slipping it off her shoulders and letting it fall to the seat beside her. She could feel his gaze on her, hot and unrelenting, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She reached for the dress, her hands shaking as she pulled it over her head, the soft fabric sliding over her skin. She adjusted the straps, smoothing out the material as it hugged her figure, her cheeks burning under his intense scrutiny.

When she was done, she glanced at him, her breath catching in her throat as she realized he was still watching her, his expression unreadable but his eyes dark with something she couldn’t quite place. And then she noticed it—the unmistakable tent in his pants, the evidence of his desire impossible to ignore.

Her heart raced, her mind spinning as she stared at him. The words had slipped out before she could cage them—reckless, impulsive, charged with a heat she hadn’t meant to unleash. “I… I could help you with that.”

The moment the words left her lips, her entire body froze. His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and molten, like embers flaring to life. She backtracked immediately, panic fraying her voice.

“I—I just meant… it looks uncomfortable. You’re clearly… struggling. And I—I might’ve caused that, right? Because of the way I… undressed. We’ve already done it before, so it’s not… and if we do get married, we’ll have to… anyway, so—”

He leaned back in his seat, his eyes darkening as they raked over her—the flushed cheeks, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers twisted nervously in the fabric of her pink dress. A slow, predatory smile curved his lips.

“Caused this?” he repeated, his voice rougher now, thumb brushing the edge of the steering wheel. “You think you did this?” His gaze dropped pointedly to the strained fabric of his slacks, then back to her face. “Are you that confident in what you do to me, Jiwon?”

She swallowed, her pulse thrumming wildly. “N-no! I just—I thought—”

“And if we marry,” he cut in, leaning closer, his breath grazing her ear, “we’ll ‘have to do this anyway’?” His hand settled on her thigh, warm and deliberate. “Define this. What exactly are you volunteering for?”

Jiwon’s breath hitched, her skin burning beneath his touch. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“You’re talking in circles,” he murmured, fingers tightening slightly on her leg. “But I’ll admit… your eagerness is… interesting.”

The low, graveled edge to his voice sent a shiver through her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he interrupted, his tone shifting to a warning—one layered with barely restrained hunger.

“Careful,” he said, his thumb tracing idle circles on her thigh. “You keep offering things you don’t understand. You might regret it.”

But Jiwon, emboldened by the flicker of heat in his eyes, doubled down. “I’m not wrong,” she insisted, lifting her chin. “You said it yourself—I’m yours. So… so this is part of that, isn’t it?”

For a heartbeat, he stared at her, his composure cracking just enough to reveal the hunger beneath. A rough laugh escaped him, his grip on her thigh tightening as he pulled her closer.

“You’re playing with fire,” he said, his voice a dark caress. “But since you’re so determined…” He released her, gesturing vaguely toward his lap, his gaze never leaving hers. “Show me what you’re offering.”

Jiwon’s courage wavered. Her earlier bravado dissolved into shaky uncertainty as she stared at the evidence of his arousal, her mouth suddenly dry. “I… I don’t… How do I…?”

He leaned back, his smile sharp and thrillingly dangerous. “You started this,” he said, his voice a velvet command. “Finish it.”

Jiwon’s fingers trembled as they hovered over the waistband of his slacks, her breath shallow and uneven. His gaze never wavered, a silent dare burning in his eyes as she fumbled with the zipper, the sound obscenely loud in the charged silence. When she finally tugged his pants and underwear down just enough to free his length, her throat went dry. He was thick, already fully hard, and the sight sent a jolt of heat straight to her core.

She hesitated, her palm hovering inches away, until his voice cut through the tension—low, edged with impatience. “Don’t stop now.”

Her first touch was tentative, her fingers wrapping around him with unsure pressure. A sharp inhale escaped him, his jaw clenching, and she froze. But when his hand slid into her hair, not pushing, just anchoring, she took it as permission. Slowly, she began to stroke him, her movements awkward at first, her thumb brushing clumsily over the head.

His reaction was immediate—a low groan, his hips jerking faintly upward into her grip. Emboldened, she tightened her fingers, finding a rhythm that made his breath hitch. She chanced a glance at his face and nearly faltered at what she saw: his head tilted back against the seat, eyes half-lidded but blazing, lips parted as ragged breaths slipped free.

He’s letting go. The realization sent a thrill through her, her own arousal spiking as she watched him unravel. Her strokes grew bolder, her free hand braced against his thigh for balance, her thumb swiping over the slickness beading at his tip.

“Jiwon.” Her name was a growl, a warning and a plea.

She didn’t stop. Instead, she leaned closer, her breath ghosting over his skin as her lips brushed the hollow of his throat. His hand tightened in her hair, yanking her head back just enough to force her to meet his gaze.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his voice fraying at the edges.

She obeyed, her strokes slowing as she watched him—the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when she twisted her wrist, the muscle fluttering in his jaw as he fought to keep still. A dark, unfamiliar pride bloomed in her chest. She did this. She reduced him to this—a man of calculated control, now gripping the steering wheel like it might snap under his restraint.

Her own need coiled tighter, her thighs pressing together as she worked him faster, spurred on by the raw hunger in his eyes. She could feel him thickening in her hand, his hips rolling upward to meet her strokes, his breath coming in sharp, fractured bursts.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his free hand sliding down to grip her wrist, not to stop her, but to guide her, his thumb pressing over hers to adjust her rhythm. “Just like that.”

The praise ignited something reckless in her. She leaned in again, her lips grazing his ear. “Do you… like this?” she whispered, the question trembling with a boldness she didn’t recognize.

His laugh was a dark, shattered sound. “You’ll know when I do.”

“Move”

Your voice cuts through the charged air, rough and strained, and Jiwon freezes. Her wide, innocent eyes blink up at you, her lips parted in that soft, questioning way that makes something dark coil tighter in your gut. You watch the confusion flicker across her face—unsure, hesitant—but she obeys.

Slowly, cautiously, she shifts, her touch lingering a moment too long before she pulls her hand away. The absence of her warmth makes your jaw clench, your control hanging by a thread. She’s always so careful, so sweet, and it drives you fucking insane.

You guide her, hands firm on her waist, positioning her until she’s straddling you. Her knees press into the seat on either side of your thighs, her trembling fingers finding tentative purchase on your shoulders. Her breathing is unsteady, shallow, her cheeks flushed pink under the dim glow of the streetlights filtering through the windshield.

“Like this?” she whispers, voice uncertain, a quiet vulnerability lacing her tone.

Your hands tighten on her hips, grounding yourself in the softness of her curves, in the way she feels so small beneath your touch. “Yeah,” you rasp, letting your thumbs stroke slow, lazy circles into her skin. “Just like that.”

You can feel the tension in her muscles, the way she holds herself so carefully, afraid of doing something wrong. But you don’t want careful. You don’t want hesitant.

You want her.

With a slow, deliberate pull, you drag her down, pressing her against the hard, aching length of you. Her breath hitches sharply, a soft gasp escaping her lips as she feels just how much you want this—how much you need her.

“You feel that?” you murmur, voice low, dangerous against the shell of her ear. “This is what you do to me, Jiwon.”

She swallows hard, her body trembling slightly, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she shifts, pressing down tentatively, testing the friction, the heat, and fuck, you feel it in your bones.

“Good girl,” you breathe, the words slipping past your lips before you can stop them, and the way she reacts—the way she melts against you—makes your blood run hotter.

Her fingers clutch at your shirt, unsure, unsteady, and you can’t help the way your hands slide up her sides, over her ribs, until you’re cupping her face, forcing her to look at you. “You wanted to help me, don’t you?”

She nods without hesitation, her lips parting in a breathless, “Yes.”

That one word sends something primal surging through you, and your grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind her who’s in control.

“Then move for me,” you say, the command firm, unrelenting.

Jiwon hesitates for the barest second before she obeys, shifting in your lap, rocking against you with shy, uncertain motions that drive you fucking wild. She’s so soft, so eager, and the way she bites down on her lip, trying to hold back those sweet little noises, makes your restraint slip another inch.

“That’s it,” you murmur, one hand slipping down to guide her, helping her find the right rhythm. “Just like that, baby.”

Her breathing stutters, and she clings to you tighter, her forehead resting against yours, eyes fluttering shut. “I— I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admits in a whisper, and the innocence in her voice nearly undoes you.

You smirk, your hands roaming lower, gripping her ass, pulling her closer, grinding her against you until she gasps. “You’re learning,” you murmur, lips brushing against her temple. “And you’re doing so fucking good.”

She shivers, pressing closer, and you can feel the heat pooling between her thighs, the dampness seeping through the thin fabric of her underwear. It takes everything in you not to rip it off, not to flip her over and take everything she’s offering. But you hold back. Barely.

Instead, you let her explore, let her take what she needs. You can feel her pulse racing, feel the anticipation thrumming between you both like a live wire.

“Keep going,” you urge, your hands steady on her hips, guiding, controlling. “I want to feel you.”

And she does. Slowly at first, then with more confidence, grinding against you in slow, teasing rolls that make your grip tighten, your breath grow ragged. She’s needy, desperate in a way she doesn’t quite understand yet, but you do. And you’ll teach her.

You lean in, dragging your lips down the side of her throat, feeling the way she shivers beneath you. “You like this, don’t you?” you whisper, your tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just below her ear. “You like how I feel against you.”

She nods frantically, pressing harder, her soft whimpers filling the small space of the car.

You chuckle darkly, the sound vibrating against her skin. “That’s my girl.”

Her fingers tighten in your hair, and she’s moving faster now, desperate, lost in it, in you. Your grip on her hips turns bruising, guiding her harder, deeper, until the friction becomes unbearable.

“Jiwon,” you groan, your forehead resting against hers, sweat beading at your temples. “You’re gonna drive me fucking crazy.”

She lets out a shaky laugh, her lips grazing yours, hesitant, teasing. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

You grin against her mouth, your hands slipping beneath her dress, fingers teasing along the edge of her panties. “Yeah,” you murmur. “It is.”

Then, without warning, you flip her onto her back against the seat, pinning her beneath you, your weight pressing down until there’s nowhere for her to go—nowhere for her to hide.

Her eyes widen, lips parting in a soft gasp, but there’s no fear. Only trust.

And that’s all the permission you need.

You press her down into the seat, your weight settling over her like a promise. Jiwon's breath comes in soft, shaky pants, her eyes wide, searching yours, but you see it—the need, the anticipation trembling just beneath the surface of her innocence. You slide your hands under her dress, bunching the fabric up to her waist, revealing the soft curves of her thighs, the damp heat pressing against you through the thin scrap of lace she calls underwear.

"You're already soaked," you murmur, dragging a finger along the slickness pooling between her thighs, feeling her shudder. "How long have you been waiting for this, Jiwon?"

She turns her face to the side, cheeks flushed, biting her lip in that way that drives you insane. "I... I don't know," she whispers, but the way she shifts beneath you, pressing up into your touch, tells a different story.

"Liar," you smirk, pushing her panties aside, letting the heat of her bare skin sear into your palm. You slide a finger inside her without warning, feeling her clench around you, tight, warm, perfect. Her sharp intake of breath is loud—too loud.

Your hand clamps over her mouth instantly, fingers digging into her jaw. "Quiet," you warn, your voice low, dark. "Do you want someone to hear us?"

She shakes her head frantically, her wide eyes meeting yours, but you don't miss the way her thighs tighten around your hand, the way her walls flutter around your fingers like she’s excited by the risk.

You chuckle softly, a dark, knowing sound, and you lean in, your lips brushing against the shell of her ear. "You like it, don't you?" you whisper, curling your fingers inside her, teasing that spot that makes her squirm. "The thought of someone catching you like this... spread open, taking my fingers, my cock."

She whimpers against your palm, her hips rocking helplessly against your hand. You remove your hand from her mouth, trailing it down her body, savoring the way she trembles beneath you.

"I— I don't..." she tries to deny it, but the words come out shaky, uncertain. You drag your cock along her slit, coating yourself in her slickness, and her breath catches. "Please..."

"Please what, Jiwon?" you murmur, pressing against her entrance, teasing, not giving her what she wants just yet.

She swallows hard, her hands clutching at your shoulders. "Please... don't tease me," she whispers, voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and something she doesn't quite understand yet.

You smirk, pushing inside her in one slow, relentless thrust, watching her eyes widen, her lips parting on a silent cry. She's so tight, so wet, and you groan, feeling her squeeze around you like she's trying to keep you inside forever.

"God, you're gripping me so tight," you growl, your hands sliding down to her hips, holding her still. "You're lucky it's me and not someone else, Jiwon. Someone who wouldn't be so careful with you."

Her nails dig into your back, her walls fluttering around you in response, and you feel it—that dark thrill, the way her body reacts before her mind can catch up.

Then—headlights.

A sudden beam sweeps through the windshield, cutting across Jiwon's flushed skin, illuminating the scene in stark, undeniable clarity. She freezes beneath you, her body going stiff, and for a moment, neither of you move, the tension thick, suffocating.

But then—then.

You feel it.

Her walls clamp down on you, a strangled moan slipping from her lips before she can stop it. The realization hits you hard, a wicked grin curling at your lips as you lean down, your breath hot against her ear.

"You like this," you whisper, rolling your hips slowly, deliberately, dragging a ragged gasp from her throat. "The idea of being seen... being watched."

"I—" She shakes her head, but her nails scrape against your skin, and her hips move on their own, rocking against you.

"Liar," you murmur again, biting down gently on her neck, feeling the way she squirms beneath you. "Look at you, clenching around me so tight. Are you dripping because you're scared, or because you want them to see what a good little wife you are?"

She whimpers, her face turning away in shame, but you catch her chin, forcing her to meet your gaze. "Tell me, Jiwon," you demand, thrusting deep, slow, pulling another gasp from her. "Would you let them watch? Let them see how I ruin you?"

She shakes her head frantically, but the way her body tightens, the way her thighs tremble against yours, tells you the truth.

"You would," you chuckle darkly, dragging your cock out slowly before slamming back in, making her arch under you. "You'd let them see how desperate you are for me."

"Stop," she pleads, but there's no real conviction in her voice, just raw, trembling need.

You lean down, your lips brushing hers. "Make me," you challenge, your thrusts growing rougher, deeper, filling her completely.

She doesn't. She can't. She's lost in it now, lost in you, her legs wrapped tight around your waist, pulling you deeper, harder.

"You feel so good," you groan, dragging a hand up her body to cup her breast, teasing the sensitive peak. "You were made for this, Jiwon. Made for me."

Her whimpers grow louder, her grip desperate, and you clamp a hand over her mouth again. "Shh," you murmur, your pace relentless. "Unless you want them to hear you."

She moans against your palm, her body trembling violently beneath you, and you feel it—she's close, right on the edge, teetering.

"Come for me," you rasp, thrusting hard, deep, hitting that spot that makes her eyes roll back. "Show me how much you love this."

Her body tenses, and with a muffled cry, she shatters around you, her walls gripping you like a vice, pulling you deeper into her heat. The tight squeeze, the raw desperation, it's too much—your own release hits you like a freight train, a guttural groan ripping from your throat as you spill inside her, holding her close, buried deep.

For a moment, neither of you move, the only sound filling the car is your ragged breathing, the creak of the leather seat beneath you, and the distant hum of the city.

Jiwon slumps against you, trembling, her body still pulsing around you in the aftershocks. Your hands stay firm on her hips, grounding her, keeping her in place.

"You'll regret this tomorrow," you whisper against her damp skin, smirking when she doesn't respond, just clings to you tighter.

For a moment, you let yourself enjoy it—the way she fits against you, the way she’s still trying to catch her breath. But then your eyes flicker to the dashboard, and a low curse slips from your lips.

“Shit.”

Jiwon stirs slightly, dazed and blissed out. “Hmm?”

You run a hand down your face, frustration simmering beneath the lingering heat of your release. “The dinner. Your parents.”

Her entire body stiffens against you, her eyes snapping open in alarm. “Oh my God.”

You grin darkly, smoothing your hands over her hips. “Yeah. We’re very late.”

The drive to the dinner is quiet, the hum of the engine a dull counterpoint to the chaos in your head. You keep your eyes on the road, grip tight on the steering wheel, but you feel her. Always her.

Jiwon sits beside you, radiating a warmth that’s annoying in its persistence. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch it—the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers trace idle patterns on her thigh, the faint, stupid smile she’s trying to hide. It makes your jaw clench. She’s glowing, soft and satisfied, like she’s just been given something precious instead of fucked raw in a parking lot.

Pathetic.

But then her hand drifts toward yours, tentative, brushing your knuckles. You stiffen. “What?” you snap, sharper than intended.

She flinches, but doesn’t retreat. “Can I… hold your hand?”

The question is so absurd, so ordinary, you nearly laugh. But her eyes—wide, hopeful, still hazy with whatever delusion she’s spinning—stop you. You should refuse. Should remind her this isn’t a romance. But the memory of her body clenching around you, desperate and yours, lingers like a brand.

“Fine,” you mutter, relenting. “If you need to cling.”

Her fingers slip into yours, soft and trusting, and you hate how your pulse jumps. You tell yourself it’s a reward. A leash. Let her have this small comfort, if it keeps her pliant for what’s coming.

She squeezes gently, and you squeeze back—harder, a warning. Mine.

“Thank you,” she whispers, leaning her head against the window, that damned smile still playing on her lips.

You don’t answer. Instead, you focus on the road, on the cold calculus of the dinner ahead. Let her dream. Let her think this changes anything.

But when you pull up to the restaurant, her hand still in yours, you don’t let go. Not yet.

As the car rolled to a stop in front of the restaurant, Jiwon exhaled shakily, her fingers still entwined with his. The steady warmth of his hand had been her anchor throughout the drive, grounding her in a way she hadn’t expected. But as the valet opened her door, reality crashed back in, sharp and unforgiving. She pulled her hand away instinctively, smoothing the fabric of her dress in a futile attempt to steady herself.

Stepping out, the towering entrance of the restaurant loomed before her, an imposing reminder of what awaited inside. The mere thought of facing her father—her stepmother—sent an uneasy twist through her stomach.

She lingered by the car, fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. He noticed.

With a quiet sigh, he reached out, his palm open in silent reassurance.

“Jiwon,” he murmured, his voice calm and steady. “Come here.”

Her eyes flickered to his hand, uncertainty clouding her expression. “I—”

“You’ll be fine.” His tone softened, but there was an undeniable firmness beneath it. “I’m right here.”

After a beat, she swallowed hard and placed her hand back in his. His fingers curled around hers, firm and unwavering, and the tension coiled in her chest loosened—just a little.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, leading her forward with the quiet confidence she envied. “Just stay close to me,” he said smoothly, as if his presence alone could shield her from everything that lay ahead.

Jiwon nodded, clutching his hand tighter as they stepped through the grand entrance. Inside, the soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses faded into the background, overshadowed by the looming confrontation she could feel brewing.

The hostess greeted them with a polite nod before guiding them toward the private dining room. As the door swung open, Jiwon’s heart faltered.

The room was elegant, the chandelier above casting a warm glow over the meticulously arranged table. His grandmother sat at the head, a pillar of quiet authority. At the sight of them entering together, her lips curved ever so slightly, a flicker of intrigue crossing her face.

Her father and stepmother, however, were not so welcoming.

Jiwon’s father’s expression shifted—shock flickering across his usually impassive features before his gaze hardened into something sharper, more calculating. Her stepmother, ever composed, maintained a careful smile, but Jiwon didn’t miss the way her fingers tensed against the table’s edge.

They hadn’t expected her to come. More importantly, they hadn’t expected him.

A fleeting sense of satisfaction sparked in her chest, only to be replaced by the crushing weight of their stares.

Jiwon’s grip on his hand faltered, uncertainty creeping in. Had this been a mistake?

As they stepped further inside, the atmosphere thickened with unspoken expectations. Conversations stilled, glasses set down mid-motion.

Jiwon forced a nervous smile, holding onto him like a lifeline. “Ah, um…” she started, her voice catching in her throat. “Father, Mother, I—” She glanced toward him, as if drawing strength. “This is—”

And then it happened.

The shift.

His demeanor changed in an instant. The warmth that had reassured her moments ago disappeared, replaced by a cold, unrelenting presence.

His gaze fixed on her stepmother with a sharp, unwavering intensity, and the sudden chill in the air made Jiwon’s pulse stutter. The hand that had held hers so gently now felt like a distant memory.

Without thinking, she withdrew her fingers, instinctively retreating from the invisible force radiating from him.

Her throat tightened as she stole a glance at him. Gone was the composed man who had whispered reassurances in the car; in his place stood someone far colder, far more dangerous.

Her father’s voice sliced through the silence. “You’re late.”

Jiwon stiffened at the weight of his disapproval, but beside her, he remained unmoved, his gaze locked on her stepmother with a simmering fury that made her insides twist.

He didn’t need to say a word—his presence alone sent a message clear enough.

Jiwon swallowed, suddenly feeling like an outsider in her own family’s presence.

Maybe… maybe she shouldn’t have come.

Jiwon.

She left.

Slipped away before the sun even rose, without a word, without a trace—except for the crumpled bills she left on the nightstand.

You run a hand through your hair, exhaling sharply.

You’re not the type to dwell on these things. And yet, here you are.

A sharp knock on the door pulls you from your thoughts.

You glance up to find Jihoon standing in the doorway, a stack of documents in his hands, the usual tired patience in his expression.

“Brooding?” you echo, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t brood.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your chair. “I was thinking.”

“Oh, I can tell. Must be exhausting for you.” Jihoon crosses his arms, watching you closely. “Let me guess—woman trouble?”

You don’t answer, which only makes his grin widen.

“Called it. So, what’s her name?”

You hesitate for a fraction of a second before muttering, “Park Jiwon.”

Jihoon’s brow furrows for a moment, then his eyes widen slightly in recognition. “Wait... Park Jiwon? As in Park Sangho’s daughter?”

The name sits on your tongue uncomfortably. “Park Sangho?”

Your fingers tap against the desk. Kang. You know the name well enough—ruthless in business, worse with women. The kind of man who takes what he wants without a second thought.

Jihoon smirks. “Sounds like she dodged a bullet, running into you instead.”

You don’t laugh. If anything, the thought irritates you more. Jiwon thought she could slip away quietly, disappear before anyone noticed. Too bad she met you instead.

Reaching into your drawer, you pull out the grainy black-and-white photo—the one you got from the paparazzi before they had a chance to release it. You and Jiwon, walking into the hotel together.

You should have deleted it, like you always do. But this time, you didn’t.

You slide the photo across the desk. “Spread it.”

Jihoon blinks. “You serious? This’ll stir up a mess.”

“That’s the point.” Your voice is steady, calculated.

Jihoon gives you a long look before shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You watch him pick up the photo, your mind already working three steps ahead.

Jiwon didn’t know your name when she left.

But soon enough, she’d have no choice but to remember it.

She thought she could run.

But you’re not done with her yet.

~~~