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mrsfancyferrari · 1 month ago

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Marriage of Convenience

Summary: Lewis has to get married to you for a year for his engagement in Ferrari. Who knew how much he would get sucked into your life…. pt 1

Song: Heartless · The Weeknd

Author’s note: Hey guys! I saw some tiktok that was about tropes with F1 drivers and Lewis's one was marriage of convenience. It has stuck with me ever since! I'll be using some real results from the races so it will not always be updated every week! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 18.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

Lewis Hamilton, the illustrious Formula One champion, stood in the opulent office of his PR manager, the walls adorned with gleaming trophies and framed newspaper articles detailing his meteoric rise in the racing world.

The sun cast a warm glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the room in a hue of gold that matched the luxury that surrounded him.

Yet, the warmth did little to dispel the chill that had settled in his stomach at the mention of the words "marriage of convenience."

"But why now?" he pressed, his voice laced with a hint of desperation. "I've been single for years, and it's never been an issue."

His PR manager, a sharp-witted woman named Elena, leaned back in her chair, her fingers steepled under her chin.

She wore a smile that was both empathetic and firm, as if she knew this was a battle she'd already won.

"Lewis, my dear," she began, her British accent crisp and professional, "the rumors have been swirling like a tornado around a trailer park. Your personal life is becoming a distraction, and your competitors are using it to their advantage. A whirlwind romance, a quick 'I do,' and voilà, you're the settled, mature, and dedicated racer that everyone adores."

Lewis sighed, running a hand through his close-cropped hair. "Fine," he conceded with a begrudging nod. "But you're finding someone who understands this is all for show, right? No strings attached, no messy feelings."

Elena's smile grew wider, a knowing glint in her eye. "Leave that to me," she said. "I have the perfect candidate in mind."

"Her name is Y/N," Elena began, sliding a sleek manila folder across her desk. "She's a model and an influencer with a taste for fast cars and an even faster lifestyle."

She opened the folder to reveal a photograph of a breathtaking black woman with goddess braids that cascaded down her back like a midnight waterfall.

Her almond-shaped eyes sparkled with intelligence and a hint of mischief, her full lips curving into a smile that could make the sternest of hearts flutter. "Y/N understands the business, and she's more than capable of playing her part. She's signed an NDA that would make Fort Knox look like a suggestion box."

Lewis studied the photo, his heart racing slightly at the thought of being married, even if it was just for show. He wasn't a stranger to beautiful women, but this was different—this was a strategic move, a chess piece in the grand game of his career.

He cleared his throat, trying to push aside the butterflies. "Alright, let's get this over with. When do I meet her?"

Elena's smile remained unwavering. "Tomorrow night, I've set up a dinner meeting at Le Château de Lumières. It's the most romantic spot in the city, perfect for a first date that'll look like it was plucked from a fairytale."

Lewis nodded, his throat suddenly dry. "Fine," he murmured, his eyes still lingering on the picture. "But what happens after the season ends?"

Elena leaned in closer, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Then, my dear Lewis, we orchestrate a spectacularly tragic fallout. Something dramatic, but not scandalous—perhaps you're both too busy with your careers, or you realized you were better off as friends. The public will eat it up, and you'll be free to pursue whatever—or whoever—you wish afterward."

He nodded, trying to calm down the tornado of emotions swirling inside him. Marriage, even a fake one, was a concept he'd never truly considered.

The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on his shoulders, but he knew he had to trust Elena.

She had a knack for spinning his life into gold, and if this was what she deemed necessary for his career to continue shining, then he'd have to go along with it.

Elena slid the folder back to him with a knowing smirk. "You can have the file if you want to admire her more," she teased, her fingertips brushing against the glossy surface of the photo. "Her numbers are in it, of course."

Lewis grumbled something unintelligible under his breath before snatching it and walking out of the office, his mind racing with a mix of apprehension and intrigue.

The folder felt heavier than it should have, as if it contained the weight of his future rather than just a few pieces of paper and a photo.

He knew the drill—fake relationships had been part of his public persona before, but marriage was a whole new level of commitment, even if it was just for show.

"Remember to study her likes and hobbies, you might find something in common," Elena yelled from the office. He couldn't help but smirk at her enthusiasm—it was infectious. He knew she had his back, and that was all that mattered.

Back in his penthouse, Lewis found himself staring at the folder on his coffee table, Y/N's mesmerizing eyes peeking out from the photograph.

He decided to take Elena's advice, eager to find common ground with his soon-to-be fake wife. As he scanned through the pages detailing her life, he found himself genuinely intrigued.

Her love for fast cars, her charity work, and her penchant for extreme sports mirrored his own passions.

Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad after all.

With a sigh of resignation, he pulled out his phone and searched for her social media profiles. He told himself he was only interested in her fashion sense, but as he scrolled through her feed, he couldn't help but admire her beauty.

Each picture was a masterpiece of angles and lighting, showcasing not only her impeccable style but also the way she carried herself with an air of confidence and grace.

Her figure was a symphony of curves, each one highlighted by the designer garments she modeled. But he was a man of integrity, so he focused solely on her outfits, nodding in approval at her exquisite taste in luxury brands.

He noticed her love for racing reflected in some of her captions, with shots at various Formula One tracks around the globe. It was clear that she had an appreciation for the sport that went beyond the glamour.

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"Fans would definitely believe this," he murmured to himself, his thumb hovering over the screen.

They both shared a love for speed and the thrill of the chase—both on and off the track.

With a sigh, he set his phone aside and rolled onto his back, his thoughts racing faster than his cars ever could. The reality of the situation was setting in: he was about to embark on a season-long charade with a woman he had never even met. His stomach churned with a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

As he lay there, the sound of a bark pierced the silence, jolting him out of his contemplative haze. Quick footsteps approached, and before he could react, Roscoe's furry face poked into the doorway. The bulldog's eyes sparkled with curiosity, his tail wagging enthusiastically.

"Did you have a good nap, Roscoe?" Lewis asked, his voice thick with affection. The dog's response was a series of eager growls and sniffs as he trotted over to his dad, his paws thumping rhythmically against the hardwood floor.

Lewis chuckled and sat up, his six-pack abs rippling as he did so. He reached out and scratched behind Roscoe's ear, the dog's eyes closing in bliss. The simple act of bonding with his pet helped to ease the tension that had been building in his chest.

"Alright, buddy," he said, standing and stretching. The fabric of his sweatpants outlined the firm muscles of his thighs and the curve of his ass, evidence of countless hours spent in the gym and behind the wheel. "Tomorrow is a special day, so you better be on your best behavior. You're about to meet the woman who's going to be my fake wife and your fake mom for the season."

Roscoe cocked his head to the side, as if he understood the gravity of the situation. Lewis couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all—his burly bulldog playing step-son to a supermodel for the sake of his image. He stood up and padded over to the windows, his bare feet sinking into the plush carpet, the coolness a stark contrast to the warmth of the day outside.

He looked out over the bustling city, the setting sun casting a fiery glow across the horizon. It was a stark reminder of the race he'd run in the morning, the thrill of the wind in his face and the roar of the engine still echoing in his ears.

Tomorrow would be a different kind of race altogether—a race to win over the hearts of his fans, to keep the sponsors happy, and to maintain the facade of a perfect life. But as he felt the comforting weight of Roscoe's head on his leg, he realized that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be so bad to have a partner in this charade.

"Come on, let's get you a treat," Lewis said, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through the room. He walked to the kitchen, the dog's nails clicking against the floor as he followed. The sleek chrome and marble surfaces gleamed under the pendant lights, a stark contrast to the warm, lived-in feel of the living room.

Lewis grabbed a treat from the jar on the counter and tossed it to Roscoe, who caught it with surprising grace for his bulk. "You're going to need to charm her, buddy. Maybe even more than you charm the judges at those dog shows."

The bulldog's eyes lit up, and he trotted over to his bed, the treat forgotten as he began to perform a series of clumsy, yet earnest tricks.

Lewis couldn't help but laugh as he watched Roscoe's antics. "I think she'll love you," he said, his voice filled with affection. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves. We're both just actors in this little play."

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"Y/N, repeat what you just said," your mother repeated, looking utterly perplexed, her perfectly manicured hand hovering over the delicate china teacup as if it were a lifeline to sanity.

"I signed a contract to 'marry' Lewis Hamilton for a year," you announced with the casual air of someone discussing a weekend getaway, a smug smile playing on your lips as you watched the shock ripple through her impeccably made-up visage.

"The Lewis Hamilton?" she queried, her eyes narrowing to slits as she tried to process the ludicrous information you'd just served up like a hot slice of gossip at a high society luncheon.

"Yes, Mother," you drawled, not bothering to look up from your phone as you swiped through the latest collection of designer shoes. "The very one who races cars and breaks hearts for a living. But don't worry, this is strictly business."

Her silence was palpable, thick enough to slice with a knife. You could almost see the cogs whirring in her head, trying to piece together this unexpected jigsaw puzzle of your life.

Finally, she found her voice, "Why on earth would you agree to such a… such a… frivolous arrangement?"

"To boost our engagement," you said, enunciating each word with the precision of a seasoned politician, raising your gaze to meet hers. "It's a win-win, really. His fanbase goes through the roof, and I get to live like a queen for a year. Plus, think of the networking opportunities!"

"But your reputation," she gasped, setting the teacup down with a clink that sounded like a death knell for your social standing.

You rolled your eyes, "Mother, it's all just for show. And it's not like we're actually going to be doing the whole marriage thing. We're just going to pretend."

Her sigh was one of resignation, tinged with a hint of disappointment. "I just hope you know what you're getting into," she murmured, her eyes searching yours for a glimmer of doubt.

"Trust me, I've got it all figured out," you assured her, your voice a blend of confidence and nonchalance that would make any business mogul proud. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, I need to go pick out a wedding dress. The press will be all over this, and I can't disappoint them with a lackluster wardrobe."

Your mother's expression was a masterclass in poise under pressure. "Very well," she conceded. "Send me the pictures. I'll handle the social media side of things."

You leaned in to kiss her cheek, the scent of her expensive perfume lingering as you pulled away. "Thanks, Mother," you said with a wink. "I knew you'd understand."

As you sailed out of the room, her voice followed you like a soft breeze. "Just remember, darling," she called after you, "keep your emotions out of it. You're playing a role, nothing more."

Your heart thudded in your chest, a delicious mix of excitement and trepidation. You had signed up for a year of make-believe with the world's most desired man, and you had no intention of letting reality spoil the fantasy.

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The velvet leash grew taut as Lewis tugged it gently, urging the bulldog, Roscoe, to follow him through the dimly-lit corridor. The dog's jowls swayed with each reluctant step, a silent protest to the indignity of being tethered like a mere accessory.

Despite his displeasure, Roscoe's curiosity about the evening's events remained piqued. The whisper of fabric against fabric grew louder as they approached the private dining room, where the scent of fine cuisine wafted through the air.

"Come on, Roscoe, you have to meet her too," Lewis murmured, his voice a blend of excitement and nerves.

The restaurant's peculiar policy of leashing dogs seemed almost comical in the grand scheme of the evening, yet it was a small price to pay for the exclusivity of the venue.

The walls of the corridor were adorned with paintings of pastoral scenes, a stark contrast to the urban jungle outside.

Upon entering the room, a soft glow from the candles on the table cast a warm embrace around the figure of a woman who was more than just beautiful—she was an embodiment of elegance.

Her eyes sparkled like the diamond necklace that hung delicately around her neck, and her smile was as radiant as the polished silverware that lay before her.

As they drew closer, the air grew thick with anticipation, charged with the electricity of new beginnings and the thrill of the unknown.

Y/N's gaze fell upon the unusual duo—Lewis, the charming billionaire, and Roscoe, the leashed bulldog. Her eyes narrowed playfully as she took in the scene.

She knew that this was not a typical dinner date, and that was precisely what made it so alluring.

"Well, hello, Mr. Hamilton," she purred, her voice a velvet caress that seemed to resonate through the very air. "I'm surprised you didn't bring your entire zoo."

Lewis chuckled, his grip on the leash loosening as he felt the tension in the room dissipate.

"Ms. Y/N, I assure you, this is a very special occasion. Besides, I thought you'd appreciate the company of my best man here."

Her smile grew, a knowing twinkle in her eye. "Best man, huh?" she said, standing up with the grace of a gazelle. "I see you've got a sense of humor, Mr. Hamilton."

Roscoe, feeling the shift in the room, allowed his tail to wag slightly, his earlier annoyance forgotten as he caught the scent of her perfume.

It was a sweet, intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that seemed to speak of exotic lands and passionate nights.

"And who's this handsome boy?" she cooed, leaning down to address Roscoe. The bulldog, ever eager for affection, leaned into her touch, his eyes closing in pleasure.

"Ah, this is Roscoe," Lewis said with a touch of pride. "He's a bit of a diva, but I assure you, he's quite well-behaved when properly motivated."

Y/N reached out to stroke the dog's head, her fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary, feeling the softness of his fur and the warmth of his body.

"Well, it seems I've got quite the welcoming committee," she said, straightening up to her full height and extending a hand to Lewis.

Their fingers met in a firm, yet delicate handshake, sending a thrill up his spine. Her touch was cool and smooth, like the finest silk, and it sent a jolt through his body that he hadn't felt in years.

"Lewis, please," he said, his voice a whisper. "I think we can dispense with the formalities."

Her hand remained in his, the warmth from their palms mingling, creating a current that seemed to pulse through the very air that surrounded them.

Y/N's eyes searched his, looking for a hint of what was to come, a promise of the evening's delights.

"Very well, Y/N," he murmured, the sound of his voice a caress that seemed to stroke her very soul. "Shall we sit?"

The three of them moved to the table, the leather chairs creaking softly as they settled into them. The table was set with fine china, the crystal glasses casting rainbows of light across the crisp, white linen.

A bottle of champagne chilled in an ice bucket, the promise of a celebration yet to unfold.

As they sat, Y/N couldn't help but feel a strange sense of déjà vu, as if she had been here before, with another man, under very different circumstances.

But this was no ordinary man, and this was certainly no ordinary dinner. The weight of the necklace grew heavier, a silent reminder of the deal she had struck.

The waiter, a young man with impeccable manners, approached with a silver tray laden with hors d'oeuvres. His eyes flickered briefly to the leash in Lewis's hand before he focused on the couple, his expression unchanged.

"Your usual, Mr. Hamilton?" he inquired.

"Yes, thank you, Freddie," Lewis replied, his gaze never leaving hers. "And for the lady?"

Y/N's eyes roved over the selection, her stomach fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves. "Surprise me," she said with a smile.

The waiter nodded and deftly selected a few items before retreating, leaving them in the warm cocoon of the candlelit room.

The silence that followed was filled with the soft crackle of the candles and the distant clink of silverware on porcelain.

Lewis reached for the champagne bottle, his fingers sure and steady as he popped the cork with a flourish that sent a spray of bubbles into the air.

The sound was like a declaration of intent, a promise of the passion that was to come. He filled her glass, his eyes never leaving hers, and then his own.

"To new beginnings," he toasted, the crystal flutes clinking together like the ringing of wedding bells.

The bubbles danced in the golden liquid, a fizzy symphony of anticipation. Y/N took a sip, the cool liquid sliding down her throat with a tantalizing tickle that made her shiver.

She watched as Lewis did the same, his Adam's apple bobbing with the motion, a gesture she found inexplicably erotic.

"So, do you know more about this… arrangement," he asked, the word 'arrangement' rolling off his tongue like a secret shared between lovers.

"Yes, I do," she spoke politely, setting her glass down with a soft click. "We're supposed to take our wedding photos next week Thursday, but it can be changed if you like."

Her words hung in the air, a silent invitation for him to take the reins, to assert his dominance in this game of pretense they were playing.

He leaned back in his chair, stroking Roscoe's head as he contemplated her words. "I trust you have everything under control, then?"

Y/N's smile grew, a hint of mischief playing at the corners of her lips. "I always do."

"Excellent," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through her very core. "But there's something I need to discuss with you before we proceed."

Y/N's eyebrow arched slightly, a question lingering in her eyes. "And what might that be?"

Lewis took a deep breath, his gaze flicking to the dog for a brief moment before returning to her. "Do you mind if my dad comes with me?" he said, his voice a soft rumble. "He said this was the 'only' time he was going to see his son get married."

Surprise flitted across Y/N's features, but she quickly schooled her expression back to neutral. "Of course," she said, her tone even. "I would be happy to include your father in our…arrangement."

Lewis's eyes searched hers, looking for any sign of hesitation or mockery. Finding none, he nodded slowly.

"Thank you," he murmured, feeling a weight lift from his shoulders. "He's quite the character, but he means well."

Y/N's smile grew warmer, her eyes gleaming with understanding. "I'm sure he does," she said. "And I'm quite fond of characters myself."

"As long as my mother can come too," she said, her voice teasing.

Lewis's eyes widened, his grip on the champagne flute tightening for a brief second before he managed to compose himself.

"Your mother?" he repeated, his voice a mix of incredulity and amusement.

Y/N nodded, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Yes, my mother. She's quite the socialite, you know. She'll make sure the photos are absolutely perfect for the society pages."

Lewis's eyes searched hers, trying to discern if she was joking or if this was a genuine request. The thought of his stern, business-like father being a part of their staged nuptials was one thing, but the addition of her mother, a woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper wit, was another matter entirely.

"Your mother, you say?" he repeated, his voice laced with a hint of apprehension. Y/N nodded, her smile unwavering, and took another sip of her champagne, her eyes never leaving his.

The bubbles danced on her tongue, a fizzy counterpart to the dance of emotions playing out before her.

Lewis's mind raced, trying to imagine the woman who had raised the enigmatic Y/N, who had agreed to this unorthodox union for the sake of his own ambition.

He could almost hear the whispers of her reputation, the tales of her social triumphs and the occasional scandal that had graced the pages of high society magazines.

"I see," he said finally, his tone measured. "And what does your mother think of… our arrangement?"

Y/N's laughter was like a chime of fine crystal, delicate and alluring. "Mother is quite thrilled," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "She's always had a soft spot for a man who knows his worth and isn't afraid to show it."

Lewis couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. Her mother's presence would add an unexpected dynamic to the already complex situation. But he knew better than to argue with a woman who could navigate the treacherous waters of high society with such ease.

"Very well," he conceded, his smile forced but genuine. "The more the merrier, I suppose."

The tension between them eased as they delved into their meals, the succulent flavors of their dishes a delightful distraction from the unspoken tension.

Roscoe, seemingly aware of the shift, settled at Lewis's feet, his snoring a gentle bass line to their conversation.

"Your mother is quite…known," Lewis said, choosing his words carefully. "What should I expect?"

Y/N's gaze grew distant as she thought of her mother. "Expect the unexpected," she replied with a knowing smile. "But she has a heart of gold beneath that tough exterior."

They ate in silence for a few moments, the weight of the unspoken contract hanging heavy in the air.

Finally, Y/N cleared her throat. “We should probably talk about…appearances. What’s the plan for things like…races?”

Lewis leaned back in his chair, pushing his plate away. "Right. Races. Well, the team and my management have a schedule in mind. They want us to be seen together at as many events as possible. It’s all about maximizing…visibility."

Y/N frowned slightly. “Visibility. Right. Well, my work is quite demanding, but I'll be able to attend at least 3 races at the start before my work starts again.”

Lewis seemed surprised. “Three? That’s…more than I expected, actually. Which races?”

“China, Japan, and Australia,” she replied. “I managed to clear my schedule for them. After that, it will be more difficult, but I can try to make a few here and there when I have more time.”

“Australia is a long way,” Lewis commented, more to himself than to her. “It’s a demanding circuit, and the jet lag is brutal.”

"I'm aware," Y/N said dryly. "I've traveled before."

He gave her a small, apologetic smile. “Of course. Sorry. It's just…it's a lot to ask you to be a part of this, especially knowing you have your own life and career.”

Y/N shrugged. "It is what it is. I agreed to it, didn't I?" she replied trying to stay formal.

Lewis nodded slowly. "Yes, you did. And I appreciate it. More than you know." He looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time that evening.

He saw a hint of apprehension in her eyes, but also a surprising strength. He wondered, fleetingly, what she really thought about all of this.

“So, Australia,” he continued, breaking the eye contact. “We’ll be traveling on different days, of course. Security and logistics are…complicated. But we’ll be staying at the same hotel. There will be a lot of press events, photo opportunities, things like that. My team will brief you on the details.”

Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Of course. I wouldn't want to deviate from the pre-approved narrative."

Lewis smirked, a genuine smile reaching his eyes for the first time. “You catch on quick. Look, I know this is all…surreal. And probably incredibly annoying. But I promise, I’ll try to make it as…bearable as possible. And I’ll try to be as respectful of your time and your life as I can.”

“I appreciate that, Lewis,” Y/N said, her voice softening slightly. “I’m not expecting this to be a fairytale, but I do expect us to treat each other with respect. We’re both professionals, and we should act like it.”

“Agreed,” Lewis replied, extending his hand across the table. "To professionalism."

Y/N hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. The contact was brief, but a faint spark seemed to pass between them.

It was nothing dramatic, just a subtle shift, a momentary acknowledgment of the strange and uncertain journey they were about to embark on together.

Lewis, observing Y/N stroking Roscoe, his bulldog, said, "So, what about dates?"

Y/N stopped mid-stroke, fixing him with a sharp glare. "Dates? Lewis, we're in a contractual agreement. This isn't real."

"What? I heard married couples still go on dates and we're going to be married soon," he retorted, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fine. What are your hobbies so we can link them to it without making it too obvious that we're reading from a script?"

"Well, I like golfing, surfing, playing the piano…" he started, ticking them off on his fingers.

"Boring," Y/N teased, more out of habit than malice. Lewis didn't seem offended, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Okay, okay. What about you then? Give me something good to work with."

"Easy. Archery, animal riding, shooting…" she said casually, continuing to pet Roscoe.

"Shooting?" he repeated, thinking it was a joke. "Like…guns?"

"Yeah, shooting. I am one of the best shooters in my family," Y/N said matter-of-factly. Lewis looked genuinely shocked. "Guns? Really? You don't seem like a…gun person."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Y/N replied with a cryptic smile. "It's a family tradition. We've been competing in shooting competitions for generations. It's quite exhilarating, actually."

Lewis shook his head, seemingly trying to reconcile the image of the elegant, equestrian beauty with a crack shot. "Well, that's…unexpected. Maybe we could arrange a 'date' at a shooting range. Show the world a different side of you. Spice things up a bit."

Y/N considered this, a flicker of genuine interest in her eyes. “Perhaps. I haven’t been to the range in a while. I could certainly give you a lesson. Though I can’t promise you’ll be any good.”

Lewis laughed. "Challenge accepted. But you have to promise not to be too competitive. I'm a champion, you know."

"We'll see about that," Y/N said, a playful glint in her eyes.

The conversation drifted, covering details about their upcoming staged engagement party, the social media strategy, and the general rules of engagement (pun intended).

After an hour, they were both feeling the strain of the pretense. Roscoe, however, seemed to be thriving on the attention.

When they finally finished the catered lunch, Roscoe, true to form, woke up again, demanding belly rubs. It was time for Y/N to leave. Surprisingly, Lewis didn't want her to.

He found her sharp wit and unconventional hobbies intriguing.

"Do you need a ride home?" he asked, walking her to the grand entrance of the restaurant. The question felt surprisingly genuine, a departure from the carefully crafted facade.

"No, my friend is picking me up, thank you for the offer," she said.

They waited for a few minutes, a comfortable silence settling between them. The only sound was the gentle hum of the city in the distance. Then, a car pulled up and honked.

"That's her, I'll be going home now, bye Lewis," she said, her hand hovering for a moment before gently touching his arm.

The contact was brief, almost hesitant, but enough to send a strange flutter in his stomach. She then looked down, rubbing Roscoe's face, who was nestled in his arms. "Bye Roscoe, I'll see you soon,"

Then she walked down the opulent stairs, entered the waiting car, and with a final wave, she was gone, leaving Lewis standing alone in the doorway, Roscoe snoring softly in his arms.

That evening, Lewis found himself thinking about Y/N. He couldn’t deny she was interesting.

Far more interesting than the endless parade of socialites and models he usually surrounded himself with. . . .

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The roar of the Ferrari engine faded, replaced by a dull hum in Lewis' ears. He should have been focused on the intricacies of the new aerodynamic package the mechanics were painstakingly explaining.

Instead, his mind was a runaway train, careening toward a single, looming destination: Y/N.

He was getting 'married' to Y/N. For a year. The absurdity of it all still felt surreal, even after weeks of negotiations, contracts, and carefully crafted press releases. It was a business arrangement, pure and simple.

A calculated maneuver orchestrated by his management team to boost engagement, fan interaction, and ultimately, his brand. A fake marriage.

He hadn't even argued. His career was his everything. He'd poured his life, his soul, into racing. If this…stunt, this temporary charade, helped solidify his position, then he'd play the part.

But that didn’t stop the unsettling flutter in his stomach.

He only half-heard the mechanic's concluding remarks, a jumble of downforce percentages and drag coefficients. He mumbled a thank you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips, and practically bolted from Maranello.

The image of Y/N in a wedding dress swam in his mind, a mirage both enticing and terrifying.

He gripped the steering wheel, pushing the car to its legal limit as he sped towards the Bridal Boutique. His own suit, a classic black tailored piece, was already sorted.

It had been his father’s, a detail that had felt strangely poignant amidst the manufactured romance.

Pulling up outside the boutique, he took a deep breath, trying to regulate his racing pulse. He stepped out of the car and headed inside, the tinkling of a bell announcing his arrival.

"Y/N's here," he announced to the receptionist, a woman with bright, friendly eyes. He felt a ridiculous need to justify his presence. "I'm…ah…Lewis Hamilton."

The receptionist's smile widened, a knowing glint in her eyes. "Ah, Mr. Hamilton! We've been expecting you. She's over there. You're a very lucky sir, she's very beautiful."

Lewis swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. He murmured a thank you and navigated through the maze of tulle and lace.

His gaze scanned the room, passing over blushing brides-to-be and their entourages, until he found her.

Y/N was standing on a raised platform, surrounded by fabric and mirrors. She was facing away from him, but even from this distance, he could see the curve of her neck, the way the light caught in her hair.

She was wearing a simple, elegant gown, ivory silk that cascaded to the floor.

The satin felt heavy against your skin, a stark contrast to the lightness you usually embraced. You stared at your reflection, a stranger in a sea of white lace and tulle. This wasn't you.

This wasn't the free-spirited, motorcycle-riding, target-shooting version of yourself that you carefully cultivated. This was… bridal.

And you were about to be a bride. For a year. To Lewis Hamilton, the racing prodigy whose reputation was as fast as his cars.

You swirled again, the dress billowing around you like a cloud. It was beautiful, objectively. Expensive, undoubtedly. But it felt like a costume, a character you were trying to embody but couldn't quite grasp.

Father would have loved it. Traditional, elegant, perfectly… safe. A sigh escaped your lips. Since when did you care about safe?

You had been trying on dresses for hours, each one more elaborate than the last. Each one failing to capture the essence of you. You knew Lewis was going to be late.

His team meetings always ran long, especially with the season going to be in full swing soon. He’d apologized profusely over the phone, his voice laced with a nervousness that mirrored your own.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. Still another hour to go. “Next!” you called out to the stylist, your voice echoing slightly in the opulent boutique.

You needed to get this over with before Lewis arrived. The thought of him seeing you in this parade of frills and lace sent a shiver down your spine.

Dress after dress, disappointment mounted. A mermaid gown that made you feel like you were suffocating. A ballgown that swallowed you whole. An A-line that was simply… boring. None of them felt right. None of them felt like you.

Standing before the mirror, you examined the latest contender – a strapless, heavily beaded monstrosity that sparkled under the chandelier light.

You looked like a disco ball. A very uncomfortable, very expensive disco ball.

“I can’t do this,” you muttered to yourself, the words barely audible. You had agreed to this arrangement – the fake marriage, the orchestrated photos, the carefully crafted narrative designed to boost Lewis’s public image.

You knew what you were signing up for. But seeing yourself in this getup, imagining walking down the aisle towards a man you barely knew, felt surreal.

He cleared his throat. "Y/N?"

You spun around, the heavy dress making the movement awkward. Lewis stood just inside the doorway, his shoulders filling the space.

The breath caught in his throat. The receptionist hadn't exaggerated. You were stunning. The dress, while beautiful, paled in comparison to your natural radiance. Your eyes, usually sparkling with playful mischief, were now tinged with a nervous apprehension that mirrored his own.

"Lewis," you said softly, your voice a low, melodic hum. "You made it."

He managed a weak smile. "Couldn't miss it. The… dress looks amazing on you."

"Thank you," you replied, your fingers nervously pleating the fabric. "Did… did you see your suit?"

"Yeah, it's… it's great. My father's. Which feels… I don't know, significant, somehow. Even though all of this..." He trailed off, gesturing awkwardly around the room.

"Is what it is," you finished for him, a hint of wry amusement in your voice. "A very public, very expensive, agreement."

The silence that followed hung heavy in the air, thick with unspoken anxieties and uncertainties. You both knew this wasn’t a real marriage.

It was a business transaction, a carefully calculated move to improve Lewis’s image and, let’s be honest, give your fledgling art career a boost. But standing here, in a bridal boutique, surrounded by the symbols of love and commitment, it felt… complicated.

"So," he said, trying to inject some levity into the situation, "are you ready to become Mrs. Hamilton for the next year?"

A small smile touched your lips. "As ready as I'll ever be. Just try not to crash the car on our wedding day, okay? Think of the engagement rates."

He chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension in his shoulders. "Wouldn’t dream of it. My driving is worth more than that." He paused, his gaze sweeping over you. "Is this the dress you're picking?"

You shook your head, the movement causing the beads to clatter softly. "I hate it. It doesn't represent me. It's… too much."

"Maybe your fiancé should pick one for you," one of your entourages said. You forgot they were even there. All this while they were sitting on the couch, probably bored out of their minds.

Lewis seemed surprised by the suggestion, but a playful glint appeared in his eyes. "Sure, I think I know your taste well." Before you could protest, he disappeared into the racks of dresses, a wide grin on his face.

"Don't pick something too girly!" you yelled after him, and you heard his laughter echo from behind a curtain.

You rolled your eyes and turned to your entourage, “I should have never let him do that.”

“But it’s too late now!”

Lewis emerged, holding a dress that was… surprisingly you. It was a sleek, ivory slip dress, with delicate lace detailing at the neckline and a subtle, almost imperceptible train. It was understated, elegant, and undeniably chic.

"Well?" he asked, holding it out. "Think this is more your style?"

You took the dress, running the silk through your fingers. "This is... perfect. How did you know?"

He shrugged, a self-deprecating smile on his face. "I've been paying attention. Besides, anything would be better than that monstrosity."

The fitting room suddenly felt smaller, the air thicker. You met his gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. This was going to be a strange year, a year filled with pretense and performance.

But maybe, just maybe, there was a sliver of something real amidst the artifice.

"When I go change into this, why don't you go try on your father's suit?" you suggested, trying to break the unexpected tension.

Lewis's smile widened. "Good idea. I'll see you in a bit." He winked, and with that, he left the fitting room, leaving you alone with the dress and your increasingly complicated thoughts.

The ivory silk felt cool against your skin as you slipped the dress over your head. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made for you. You looked in the mirror, and for the first time since agreeing to this ridiculous scheme, you didn't feel like you were playing a part.

You felt… like yourself. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be a complete disaster.

"Lewis? Are you there?" you asked hesitantly from behind the curtain.

"Yep, just waiting for my future wife to be revealed," he joked.

"Okay," you said shyly, feeling a blush creep up your neck.

You could hear the rustle of fabric and a muttered, "Alright, here we go." Then, with a dramatic flourish, the curtains were drawn open, revealing Lewis in a impeccably tailored suit.

It was classic, understated, and undeniably him. In his hands, he held a bouquet of bright yellow and blue flowers.

He stood there, momentarily speechless, his eyes fixed on you. The air crackled with an unspoken energy, a palpable tension that both thrilled and terrified you.

"Wow," he finally breathed, his voice a low rumble. "You look… incredible."

You felt your heart skip a beat. "You don't look too bad yourself."

He grinned, handing you the flowers. "Yellow and blue. They're your favorites, right?"

You took the bouquet, inhaling their sweet fragrance. "They are. Thank you."

"Right, we'll leave you alone to suck up the moment," the main entourage, Monica, announced, herding the rest of the entourage out of the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving you and Lewis alone in the opulent room. The weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders.

You walked towards the plush velvet sofa and sat down, the voluminous dress swallowing you whole.

"Where's Roscoe?" you asked, referring to Lewis’s beloved bulldog. "I miss him." You’d met Roscoe several times during the contract negotiations and found the wrinkly pup to be far more endearing than his owner, at least initially.

"So you miss my dog but not me, your future husband, your future love of your life, your…" Lewis teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

"Okay, okay, I get it," you said, slapping his arm lightly. "I missed you too." It wasn't entirely a lie. During the days of rehearsals and media training leading up to this day, you'd found yourself strangely comfortable around him.

He was surprisingly down-to-earth, considering his fame and fortune.

He chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension in his shoulders. "So… do you need help getting out of that dress? I'm sure you're dying to take it off."

You laughed, a genuine, bright sound that surprised him. "Actually, I was kind of enjoying it. Makes me feel like a real princess, even for a few hours."

"Well, you certainly look like one," he said, a genuine compliment escaping his lips.

"Alright, enough flirting," you said, trying to regain your composure. "We have a fake marriage to attend."

"Right," he said, suddenly remembering the logistics of the whole thing. "The venue, the vows, the… first dance."

"Don't worry," you said, your eyes twinkling. "I've taken care of most of it. The venue is a beautiful church outside of Florence. The vows are… well, let's just say they're carefully worded. And the first dance? I'm thinking something slow and romantic. What do you say?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Slow and romantic? You think you can handle it, Mrs. Hamilton?"

You grinned, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Try me, Mr. Hamilton."

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I think… I think I might just enjoy that."

The drive to the church felt surreal. You were seated next to Lewis in the back of a sleek, black car, the Tuscan countryside whizzing by in a blur of vineyards and olive groves. You expected awkward silence, maybe a stilted conversation about the weather. Instead, Lewis surprised you.

"So," he began, turning to you with a genuine smile, "tell me, what do you actually know about Formula 1? Besides the fact that I'm supposedly good at it?"

You chuckled. "More than you probably think. I've been following the sport since I was a kid. My dad's a huge fan, and he practically raised me on a diet of qualifying laps and race strategy."

His eyes lit up. "Really? Most of the 'celebrity' guests I meet at the races barely know the difference between a pit stop and a penalty. It's… refreshing to actually talk to someone who gets it."

He launched into a detailed explanation of the upcoming season, his passion evident in every word. He spoke about the new regulations, the aerodynamic changes, the challenges they were facing with the car's performance.

"We're struggling with the downforce," he explained, his brow furrowed in concentration. "The simulations are promising, but we're not seeing the same results on the track. We're working on adjusting the suspension and the rear wing design to try and find that extra bit of grip."

You listened intently, nodding occasionally, asking informed questions. "Have you considered tweaking the differential settings? Maybe a more aggressive locking strategy could help with traction out of the corners?"

Lewis stopped mid-sentence, staring at you in surprise. "That's… actually a really good point. I hadn't thought of that. I'll bring it up with the engineers. You have to come to the factory in Maranello so you can get to know the team before the season starts."

"I'd like that," you admitted, a genuine smile spreading across your face.

This wasn't the superficial celebrity encounter you'd anticipated. He was treating you like an equal, someone whose opinion he valued. It was… disarming.

As the car pulled up to the church, a mix of nervousness and anticipation fluttered in your stomach. You were about to 'marry' a Formula 1 legend, a man you had met, for the sake of boosting his public image. The absurdity of the situation hit you full force.

The church was even more breathtaking in person. Nestled amongst rolling hills, its ancient stone walls seemed to whisper stories of centuries past.

There were some photographers strategically positioned, discreetly snapping aesthetic pictures of the venue. They were there to sell the illusion, to capture the romance that wasn't truly there.

Lewis left the car first, extending a hand to help you out. "Ready?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

You took his hand, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver through you. You smiled and walked towards the entrance of the church, the sound of hushed chatter growing louder with each step. Your palms were sweating, and your heart hammered against your ribs. You were anxious. Terribly anxious.

Lewis squeezed your hand reassuringly. "It's gonna be great, wifey," he murmured, a playful glint in his eyes.

You nodded, trying to force a smile. "Just…don't call me that in public, okay?"

He chuckled. "Deal. And relax. Everyone here is in on it. It's just us, our friends and family."

The heavy wooden doors swung open, revealing a small gathering of people. You saw a mixture of familiar faces – yours and Lewis's close friends, the ones trusted enough to keep the secret – and family. All their faces were directed to you.

You and Lewis were immediately engulfed in hugs and pats on the back. Some of your friends were teary-eyed, overcome with emotion, while others offered proud congratulations. The scene was chaotic, overwhelming, and strangely…supportive.

"You look beautiful, darling," one of your friends gushed, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. "I'm so happy for you both!"

You managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Sarah. Don't cry, you'll ruin your makeup."

Finally, you spotted your mom across the room, engaged in conversation with Lewis's father. Your mother was already crying, naturally. She always cried at weddings, even the fake ones. Seeing her emotional state made your own eyes start to sting.

"Mom!" you called out, gently extricating yourself from the throng of well-wishers.

Your mother turned and rushed towards you, engulfing you in a tight hug. "My baby is getting married!" she sobbed, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so happy for you, sweetheart. He seems like such a wonderful man."

You glanced over at Lewis, who was smiling warmly at your mother. He could charm the birds out of the trees, you thought.

"He is, Mom," you said, deciding to play along. "He's wonderful."

She pulled back, holding you at arm's length, and examined your face. "Are you happy, darling? Really happy?"

You hesitated for a moment, the question hitting you with unexpected force. Were you happy? You were about to embark on a year-long sham marriage with a man you barely knew. Logically, the answer should be no. But as you looked at Lewis, standing there patiently, a curious feeling began to stir within you. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this arrangement than met the eye.

"Yes, Mom," you said, surprising yourself with the conviction in your voice. "I'm happy."

Your mother squeezed your hand. "That's all that matters. Now, go get married!" She beamed, wiping away a stray tear with the back of her hand.

Just then, Anthony Hamilton approached, his face etched with a nervous concern that mirrored my own. He fidgeted with his tie, avoiding direct eye contact.

"Y/N, dear," he began, his voice a low rumble. "Are you… are you sure you want me to do this?" He gestured vaguely towards the makeshift altar. "It’s not too late to back out, you know. Lewis… he can be a handful."

My heart went out to him. He was a good man, Anthony, despite the pressures of his son's demanding career. He probably felt as uncomfortable with this whole charade as I did.

"Of course, Mr. Hamilton," I answered, offering him my most reassuring smile. "I feel like it would be the best option for everyone." For Lewis's career, for my future, for my mother's peace of mind.

His eyes welled up, and he nodded slowly, his voice thick with emotion. "Alright, alright. But promise me you'll look after him, eh? He needs someone solid in his corner."

"I promise," I said, though I wasn't sure if I was promising him or myself.

"Alright! Everyone go to your positions now!" the videographer yelled, his voice cutting through the emotional tension like a rusty knife. The sound of hushed conversations and shuffling feet filled the room as everyone scrambled to their assigned seats along the aisle.

Anthony, after taking a deep breath, offered me his elbow. I placed my hand there, the silk of my dress cool against his suit. We walked behind the large oak doors that led into the ballroom, hiding from the expectant gaze of the crowd. I could feel my pulse throbbing in my ears.

Suddenly, the opening bars of "Canon in D" filled the room, a classic choice for a deeply un-classic situation.

"Ready?" Anthony asked, his voice barely a whisper.

I took a deep breath, forcing a calmness I didn't feel. "Ready."

The doors swung open, and I started to walk. Slowly. Deliberately. Each step was calculated, designed to capture the perfect angle for the cameras. The faces of the guests blurred into a sea of expectant smiles and glittering jewels.

She could see her mother beaming in the front row, her eyes brimming with tears. Y/N hoped they were tears of joy, not disappointment that her daughter was entering into such a transactional union.

At the end of the aisle, Lewis stood waiting, looking impossibly handsome in his custom-tailored suit. He caught my eye, and for a brief, fleeting moment, I saw something flicker in his gaze – a vulnerability, perhaps, or just a raw, naked ambition.

We reached the altar, and Anthony squeezed my hand before stepping aside.

"You look lovely, Y/N," Lewis murmured, his voice low and smooth.

"Thank you, Lewis," she replied, keeping her voice equally neutral. "You don't look so bad yourself."

The officiant, a jovial man who looked like he'd rather be anywhere else, cleared his throat.

"Dearly beloved," he began, his voice echoing through the hall, "we are gathered here in the presence of God, family, and friends to witness a joyous occasion—the union of Lewis Hamilton and Y/N L/N in holy matrimony."

The ceremony was a blur of rehearsed lines and forced smiles. They exchanged vows that felt hollow and meaningless. They slipped rings onto each other's fingers, the cold metal a stark reminder of the contractual nature of their relationship.

Then came the moment she had been dreading.

"You may now kiss the bride," the officiant intoned.

Lewis turned to her, his eyes searching hers for a moment. Then, he leaned in and kissed her. It was a chaste, professionally executed kiss, designed to elicit cheers from the crowd and likes on Instagram.

But even so, you felt a strange flutter in her stomach, a sensation she quickly dismissed as the product of nerves and exhaustion.

It was all a blur from then on. Walking down the aisle with Lewis in hand, waving at the guests, mostly family and friends, throwing confetti over our heads.

The whirlwind of congratulations, the endless photos, the forced smiles that were starting to ache my cheeks.

Then, suddenly, we were in a room by ourselves, apparently, it's tradition for newly weds to stay in the same room right after the ceremony to soak up the moment.

The honeymoon suite was extravagant, all plush velvet and panoramic views. It felt absurd to be here, pretending, with 24-hour security just outside the door to ensure the “integrity” of our little charade.

My friends, bless their hearts, had noticed my tense demeanor and, with a knowing wink, had slipped two glasses of wine into my hands. "Relax a little, Y/N," Maya had whispered, "You look like you're about to explode."

I took a tentative sip. The wine was crisp and refreshing, a welcome distraction from the buzzing in my head. I was a lightweight, a fact I had conveniently neglected to mention to Lewis. He stood awkwardly by the panoramic window, his perfectly tailored suit looking even more impeccable against the velvet drapes.

He turned, his expression hesitant. "That kiss was... nice," he said, almost as an afterthought.

I raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of my wine. "Well, I'm happy you enjoyed it because that's all you're getting from me today," I said, leaning back against a ridiculously ornate chaise lounge.

He frowned slightly. "We do have to kiss more during the first dance and the reception party."

The wine had officially loosened my inhibitions. A mischievous glint sparked in my eye. I found myself leaning forward, a dangerous smile playing on my lips. "Is that an order, Mr. Hamilton?"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. "It's…a suggestion. A highly recommended suggestion."

I burst out laughing, the sound bouncing off the high ceilings. He looked even more uncomfortable. "Alright, alright. A suggestion it is. But tell me, Lewis," I drawled, tilting my head, "how passionate are we talking? A quick peck for the cameras? A lingering lip-lock for the tabloids? Or perhaps a full-blown, movie-style makeout session to send your fans into a frenzy?"

He gaped at me, his usually composed facade cracking. "Y/N, are you…teasing me?"

"Maybe," I said, grinning. "Consider it a rehearsal. For the sake of public perception, of course. We have to be convincing, right? This isn't just about boosting your engagement numbers; it's about protecting your reputation."

He took a deep breath, visibly steeling himself. "Fine. Let's…rehearse." He approached me cautiously, like he was approaching a wild animal, his eyes locked on mine. "Just…remember it's all for show. This is purely professional."

"Of course," I whispered, the wine singing in my veins. "All for show. Completely professional." My heart, however, seemed to have missed the memo. It was thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird.

He placed his hands on my waist, his touch surprisingly gentle. He leaned in, his breath warm against my cheek, and I suddenly found myself struggling to remember my lines. "Ready?"

My voice caught in my throat. I managed a shaky nod, my heart suddenly pounding a rhythm that had nothing to do with wine and pretense. As his lips met mine, a strange sensation washed over me.

He hesitated, giving you a moment to back out, but you didn't. Instead, you raised a hand and rested it on the back of his neck, your fingers threading slightly into his short, dark hair.

It started slowly. A tentative brush of lips, a polite greeting. He tasted of mint and something else, something subtly powerful and undeniably Lewis. He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. "Is this… believable?"

"Believable enough to fool millions?" you countered, your voice a husky whisper. "Probably not. Try again. Think longing, think desperation, think… you're about to lose the most important thing in your life."

Lewis frowned. "That's a bit dramatic, even for this."

"Welcome to acting, darling," you said, your smile widening. "Now, try again."

This time, he didn't hesitate. He leaned in, his lips claiming yours with a possessiveness that sent a shiver down your spine. This wasn't the gentle, chaste kiss from before. This was raw, demanding, and surprisingly… good.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and you found yourself responding without conscious thought. Your fingers tightened their grip on his neck, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepened, tongues dancing, breath mingling. It was a whirlwind of sensation, a delicious chaos that blurred the line between rehearsal and reality.

For a fleeting moment, you forgot this was all a performance, that you were just pawns in a PR game. You were just two people, caught in the heat of a kiss that felt anything but fake.

He finally broke away, his chest heaving, his eyes dark and intense. "Okay," he said, his voice raspy. "That… that was better."

You were still trying to catch your breath. "Better indeed," you managed to say, your voice slightly breathless. "But was it believable? Or just…intense?"

Lewis looked away, running a hand through his braids. "It was…both. Maybe too intense."

"Too intense for a fake marriage?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow.

Before he could answer, I noticed the smear of red on his chin. "Oh, you've got my lipstick all over your mouth," I said, a mischievous glint in my eyes.

Before Lewis could touch his face, I held his hand, preventing him. "Leave it there, at least that will convince people that we were kissing," I said, letting go of him.

He stared at me, a mixture of surprise and something else I couldn't quite decipher flickering in his eyes. "You're… surprisingly good at this," he said, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"That's my job," I replied, a smile playing on my lips. "But you're a quick learner, Lewis. I'll give you that."

The large hall was bedecked in a symphony of white roses and crystal chandeliers that cast a soft glow across the polished floor. The moment you and Lewis stepped in, the buzz of conversation hushed and all eyes turned to you.

The crowd erupted in applause, a wave of congratulations that made you blush despite the artifice of it all.

You took Lewis's offered arm, his grip firm and surprisingly comforting, as you both glided towards your sweetheart table at the center of the room.

The scent of his cologne mingled with the floral bouquets scattered around, creating a heady aroma that was at odds with the butterflies doing somersaults in your stomach.

Your hearts beat in sync with each step, echoing the rhythmic thump of the bass from the live band playing in the corner. The dress you wore was a vision of elegance, a stark contrast to the nervous energy thrumming through your body.

You felt like a moth drawn to a flame as you approached the table, the spotlights seemingly highlighting every imperfection, every lie. Yet, as you sat down, the plush chair enveloping you in a gentle embrace, the weight of the moment lifted slightly. You exhaled and offered him a tentative smile.

"Well, we've made it this far," you murmured under the guise of the applause.

"Barely," he quipped, a playful glint in his eye.

As the applause died down, a server appeared, filling your glasses with champagne. The cool liquid was a welcome relief against the dryness of your mouth.

You took a sip, feeling the bubbles tickle your nose. The room was alive with the sound of laughter and clinking glasses, a cacophony of happiness that seemed almost surreal.

"To us," Lewis said, raising his glass. His smile was perfect, a masterpiece of diplomacy. You mirrored the gesture.

You clinked glasses, the sound resonating in your ears like a toll of fate. "To the most convenient marriage of the year," you toasted, trying to keep your voice steady.

The liquid slid down your throat, a potent symbol of the agreement you'd made. You felt the warmth spread through your body, loosening the tension slightly.

The dress, a creation of satin and lace, whispered against your skin with every movement, a silent reminder of the part you had to play.

As the applause faded into the background, the first course of the meal was served. The table was an opulent display of gourmet delights, each dish more tempting than the last.

Lewis picked up a piece of hors d'oeuvre, a dollop of caviar perched atop a tiny cracker, and held it out to your lips.

"Open for me," he said, his voice low and playful.

You parted your lips and allowed him to feed you, the salty fish roe bursting on your tongue. The sensation was oddly intimate, and you watched his eyes darken as he observed your reaction.

The taste was decadent, a delightful assault on your senses that made you want to moan. You chewed slowly, savoring the richness.

You returned the favor, plucking a strawberry from the fruit platter with your fingers and bringing it to his mouth.

The fruit was ripe, the juice staining your fingertips and leaving a sweet trail across your skin. He took the berry with a smoldering look that sent a bolt of heat through your core.

You picked up a piece of chocolate-covered fruits, the dark chocolate shimmering with edible gold dust. You held it to his mouth, watching as he took it with a bite, the gold leaving a glittering trail on his bottom lip.

Leaning in, your heart racing, you couldn't help yourself. You licked the remnants of sweet chocolate from his lips, the taste a tantalizing mix of the rich confection and the salt of his mouth.

You blamed it on the alcohol, the way it loosened your inhibitions and made everything feel more daring, more alive. His eyes searched yours for a moment, and you realized with a start that he wasn't objecting.

The room spun slightly as you felt his hand come to rest on the small of your back, his thumb tracing lazy circles against the bare skin exposed by your dress.

"You're doing great," he whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your neck.

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand spreading like a brand across your skin. The champagne had done its work, the tension giving way to a pleasant buzz that made everything feel a little less forced.

You turned to face him, your eyes locking for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity.

"Thank you," you murmured, your voice a soft purr that seemed to resonate through the room.

His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a heart-stopping second, you thought he might kiss you.

But instead, he leaned back, his expression unreadable.

The band struck up a tune, the sound of instruments swirling around you like a warm embrace. You felt a sudden pressure to perform, to be the bride everyone expected you to be.

Maya bustled over to your table. "Can you guys cut the cake now, or do you need more time for yourselves?" she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

The question was like a splash of cold water, reminding you of the façade you were maintaining. You laughed, a little too loudly, and nodded.

"We're ready," you said, standing up. Lewis's hand was at your elbow, guiding you through the crowd towards the grand, multi-tiered cake.

The cake was a masterpiece, a cascade of white fondant adorned with intricate lace detailing and delicate sugar roses.

You felt a strange sense of detachment as you both took the knife, your hands shaking slightly.

As you made the first slice, the sound of cameras clicking filled the air. The flashes were like stars in a night sky, blinding you to everything else.

But all you could see was Lewis's profile, the tension in his jaw, the way his hand held the knife with surprising tenderness.

He took a piece of cake and offered it to you, a silent question in his eyes. You took it, feeling the soft cake crumble against your teeth.

The sweetness was overwhelming, a metaphor for the situation you found yourself in.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to be the poised and elegant wife Ferrari required.

The spotlight was on you, but it was the pressure of his hand against your back that kept you from crumbling like the dessert in your mouth.

"Move closer," you whispered, holding out a dainty slice of the heavenly cake to him. The scent of vanilla and buttercream filled the air as you brought it closer to his lips.

The moment was charged with a current that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

With a gentle nudge, you coaxed him to open his mouth. His full lips parted slightly, and you placed the cake on his tongue.

His eyes never left yours as you traced the outline of his mouth with your fingertips, catching the crumbs that clung to his perfect smile. The warmth of his breath danced across your fingertips, sending a shiver down your spine.

You watched as he closed his eyes, savoring the flavor. His Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, and you felt a sudden urge to trace the path the cake took down his throat with your own mouth.

As the music grew louder and the flashes grew more insistent, Lewis leaned in, his breath warm against your ear.

"Dance with me?" His voice was a velvety rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, and he took your hand, leading you to the dance floor.

The lights dimmed, casting the room in a romantic glow. A slow song began to play, a classic ballad about love and commitment. Ironic, you thought, given the circumstances.

Lewis placed his hand on your waist, and you reluctantly put yours on his shoulder. The fabric of his bespoke suit felt smooth beneath your fingers.

He pulled you closer, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. You avoided looking at him, focusing instead on the swirling patterns of the projected lights on the ceiling.

"Relax," he murmured, his breath tickling your ear. "It's just a dance."

But it wasn't just a dance. It was a performance, a charade, a carefully constructed illusion. Every step, every sway, every glance had to be perfect, believable.

You caught the eye of someone, notebook in hand, eagerly observing your every move. You forced a smile, hoping it looked genuine.

As the song continued, you found yourself slowly starting to relax. Lewis was a surprisingly graceful dancer, guiding you effortlessly across the floor.

The rhythm of the music, the warmth of his body, the soft lighting – it was all strangely seductive.

"You look beautiful," he said softly, his voice barely audible above the music.

You finally met his gaze, and you were surprised to see genuine warmth in his eyes. Was it possible? Could there be something more to this arrangement than just business?

"Thank you," you whispered, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

He smiled, a genuine, unguarded smile that transformed his face. "You know, this isn't so bad."

"What isn't?" you asked, confused.

"This. Us. Pretending to be in love," he said, his eyes twinkling. "We're pretty good at it, don't you think?"

You laughed. "We are, aren't we?"

As the song ended, he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours.

"You know what would make this even more believable?" he whispered.

Your heart skipped a beat. "What?"

"If we kissed," he murmured, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

You looked up at him, your pulse racing. The idea was ludicrous, of course. This was a marriage of convenience, a contractual agreement to help him secure his engagement at Ferrari.

Yet, as his eyes searched yours, you found yourself leaning into the moment, curious about the sensation of his lips on yours.

The music swelled around you as his hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His other hand cupped your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly across your skin.

You felt the electricity crackle in the air between you, and without another word, he closed the gap, pressing his mouth to yours.

His kiss was gentle at first, exploratory, as if he too was surprised by his own actions.

But the alcohol was really hitting the both of you, and with it, your inhibitions began to melt away like candle wax in the heat of desire.

Your arms slid around his neck, pulling him closer, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

Lewis's hand slipped down from your waist to the curve of your hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles through the fabric of your dress.

You held back, though, coming back to your senses. This wasn't what you had signed up for. You were supposed to be his beard, not his lover.

You stiffened in his arms, and he must have felt the shift in your demeanor because his hand stilled.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice low and thick with a hint of regret. "I didn't mean to cross a line."

You took a deep breath, your chest rising and falling against his firm embrace. "It's okay," you managed, even though your body was screaming for more. "We just need to remember what this is."

He nodded, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "Right," he murmured, his grip loosening slightly. "A marriage of convenience."

The music had changed to something faster, a pounding bass that seemed to echo the beating of your heart. You stepped back, trying to compose yourself and smiled for the cameras.

"We should focus on the wedding," you said, your voice shakier than you would have liked.

Lewis's hand remained at your waist, his thumb continuing to stroke your skin in a gentle, hypnotic rhythm. "Are you okay?" he asked, concern etched into his features.

You took another deep breath, willing your racing pulse to slow. "I'm fine," you lied, plastering a smile back onto your face. "We're just playing our parts, right?"

He nodded, his eyes lingering on your mouth. "Right."

The music changed again, the tempo quickening. The DJ announced that it was time for everyone to join in, and the floor flooded with guests eager to dance. The pressure of the moment was lifted as the spotlight shifted away from the two of you.

The crowd grew thick around you, a sea of bodies moving in a harmonious wave of color and sound. Lewis's hand remained at the small of your back, his fingers splayed possessively.

You felt a thrill of excitement as you realized that in this chaos, you could be anyone, do anything, and no one would question it.

And then, through the kaleidoscope of faces, you saw her. Your mother, standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching you with a knowing smile.

She had always had a knack for reading your expressions, and even from this distance, you could feel her approval. It was as if she knew the secret desires that had blossomed in the warmth of Lewis's embrace.

Her eyes sparkled with a mischief that told you she wasn't fooled by the pretense of your union.

You felt a sudden rush of heat, remembering the way Lewis's kiss had made your knees weak. You hoped she hadn't seen that.

"I'm going to talk to my mother," you murmured into Lewis's ear, your voice low and urgent.

He nodded, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before you slipped away from the dance floor and made your way through the throngs of partygoers.

Your mother's smile grew wider as you approached, her eyes twinkling with the same mischief that had always made you feel both cherished and exposed.

She knew you so well, and as you reached her side, you were acutely aware of the rapid beat of your heart, the warmth still lingering on your cheeks from Lewis's kiss.

"Having fun?" she asked, her voice a sweet symphony of teasing and concern.

"Mother, let's talk outside," you suggested, gesturing to the balcony, desperately needing a moment of respite from the pounding rhythms and probing gazes.

Her smile never wavered as she nodded in agreement, placing a hand on your forearm. "Lead the way, dear," she said, the warmth of her touch grounding you amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

The cool night air hit you like a breath of fresh oxygen as you stepped out onto the balcony, the sound of laughter and music muffled by the thick double doors.

The moon cast a silvery glow over the cityscape, painting the buildings in a soft, ethereal light. The distant sounds of traffic were a faint reminder of the world beyond the bubble of the penthouse suite where your lives had suddenly become a performance for the paparazzi.

Your mother looked stunning in a midnight-blue gown that accentuated her figure, her eyes dancing with curiosity. She took a sip of her champagne, her gaze never leaving you.

"What's on your mind, darling?" she asked, her voice a gentle coo that could melt the coldest of hearts.

You leaned against the balcony railing, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat still pulsing through your veins from Lewis's kiss.

"I just needed a break," you replied, hoping she wouldn't push further. The night air kissed your skin, sending goosebumps along your arms.

Your mother's eyes searched yours, a knowing glint shimmering in her gaze. "You seem…flustered," she said, her tone light but her words carrying the weight of a thousand unasked questions.

You took a deep breath, the cool air filling your lungs and calming your racing thoughts. "It's just…Lewis," you began, struggling to find the words.

"What about your fake husband?" your mother said, her voice dripping with playful accusation. She had always been perceptive, and she knew you better than anyone.

You felt a blush creeping up your neck, and you took a sip of the cool, bubbly champagne to buy yourself some time. "What do you mean?" you asked, feigning innocence.

Your mother raised an eyebrow, the gesture so familiar it was as if you were a teenager caught sneaking in past curfew. "I saw the way he was looking at you during the first dance," she said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "And the way you two were just…dancing."

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the pulsing heat between your legs, the phantom feeling of Lewis's hand on your hip. "It's all for the cameras," you protested, even though the words felt hollow.

Your mother's smile grew knowing, and she leaned closer, her perfume a faint whisper of gardenias in the night air. "Is that all it is?" she murmured, her eyes twinkling with the same mischief that had always made you squirm. "Or is there something more going on between you two?"

You took another deep breath, the coolness of the air doing little to ease the heat pooling in your belly. "Mother," you began, feeling the weight of her gaze on you, "I've only known him for less than a month."

Her smile softened, the playful glint in her eyes fading to a look of understanding. She leaned closer, her voice a warm, comforting whisper. "Sometimes, love doesn't care about time, darling. It just happens."

You stared out into the night, the city lights blurring as you replayed the last few minutes in your mind. The feel of his lips on yours, the gentle caress of his hands, the way your body had responded so instinctively.

Was it possible to develop feelings so quickly, so intensely, when the foundation of your relationship was nothing but a business deal?

The question lingered in the air as you watched Lewis mingle with the other guests, his charisma lighting up the room. His laugh was infectious, his smile captivating, and the way he moved through the space was like watching a panther – sleek, powerful, and utterly in control.

You took another sip of champagne, the bubbles fizzing against your tongue as you contemplated your mother's words. Love? In a marriage of convenience? The very notion seemed absurd, and yet, you couldn't deny the undeniable pull you felt towards him.

The way your body had responded to his touch, the way your heart had skipped a beat when he looked at you – it was all too real, too potent to dismiss as mere infatuation.

"Just remember what you said three weeks ago, that 'it's all just for show. And it's not like you're actually going to be doing the whole marriage thing, that you're just going to pretend.'"

Her voice, usually a soothing balm, was sharp with an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place. "Don't break your own promise, but I wouldn't mind it. Lewis will take good care of you."

Her words hit you like a ton of bricks. Was she…encouraging you? But before you could respond, she had already turned away, leaving you alone with the night's whispers and the tumultuous dance of your thoughts.

You took another sip of champagne, the bubbles fizzling down your throat, and tried to convince yourself that it was just the alcohol playing tricks on you.

But deep down, you knew it was more than that.

Sighing, you set the champagne flute down on the railing and smoothed your hair back, trying to regain your composure. The chilly breeze whispered across your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the temperature.

With one last deep breath, you pushed away from the balcony and turned to face the warm embrace of the party once more.

As you stepped back into the penthouse suite, the heat and the music enveloped you like a lover's arms. The lights danced over the guests' faces, casting a spell of excitement and anticipation.

The DJ announced that it was time for the welcome toasts, and a hush fell over the room. You searched the crowd for Lewis, your heart skipping a beat when your eyes met his across the sea of bodies.

He offered you a smile, his own eyes a storm of emotions that mirrored your own.

Making your way to the makeshift stage, you took your place beside him. The spotlight was hot on your face, and you could feel the eyes of the guests on you, eagerly waiting for you to speak.

Lewis took your hand in his, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity up your arm.

You cleared your throat, the words of your toast already written but feeling so insignificant now. "Thank you all for joining us tonight," you began, your voice steady despite the tumult in your chest. "This is a very special occasion."

Lewis squeezed your hand, his thumb stroking the back of your palm in a silent message of support.

You glanced at him, his eyes locked onto yours, and felt a jolt of something primal, something that had nothing to do with the contract you'd signed.

"We're here to celebrate the beginning of a new chapter in our lives," you said, your eyes never leaving his. "One filled with adventure, success, and," you paused, feeling the weight of his gaze, "passion."

The room erupted in cheers and applause, and Lewis stepped up to the microphone, his hand still wrapped around yours. "Thank you," he said, his voice a rich baritone that seemed to resonate in the very air around you.

"To my beautiful wife," he turned to you, a smoldering look in his eyes that sent a delicious shiver down your spine, "Thank you for agreeing to this crazy adventure."

You leaned into the microphone, the warmth of his body against yours a potent cocktail of desire and nerves. "And to my dashing husband," you said, your voice a purr, "Thank you for making this marriage of convenience feel like anything but."

The crowd gasped, and a smattering of laughter filled the room, but you didn't care. You knew you were playing with fire, but the heat was too tempting to resist.

As you finished your toast, Lewis leaned down and whispered, "You're going to pay for that later." The words sent a shiver of anticipation through you, and you couldn't help but smile.

You took your cue, your voice steady despite the tumult of emotions raging inside you. "To our friends, our families, and Ferrari," you said, raising your glass, "Thank you for bringing us together."

The room erupted in cheers and applause, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the success of your ruse.

But as you watched Lewis, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, you knew that this marriage of convenience was about to take a very inconvenient turn.

"Now, it's time for the parent dances," the DJ announced, breaking the spell of the moment. You felt a knot in your stomach. You had lost your father years ago, and having your mother dance with Lewis was the closest thing you'd ever get to a traditional wedding dance with a parent.

"Mrs. L/N," Lewis said, extending his hand towards your mother with a charming smile. "May I have the honor of this dance?"

Her eyes sparkled with delight as she took his hand, the same hand that had sent shockwaves through your body just moments before. "Why, Mr. Hamilton, I'd be thrilled," she replied, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.

You watched as they swayed to the music, the connection between them palpable. The sight was bittersweet – a reminder of what you had lost and what you never had.

But as you observed them, the tension in your chest began to ease. If Lewis had to dance with someone, you were happy it was your mother.

She deserved this moment of joy and glamour, even if it was all an act.

As the song came to a close, Lewis guided your mother back to her seat and returned to you, his eyes never leaving yours. "Your turn," he murmured, extending his hand.

You nodded, trying to ignore the butterflies that had taken up residence in your stomach. This was your job, to make this marriage look believable, and part of that meant playing the role of a loving wife to a tee.

As the music changed to a slower tempo, Lewis' father, Anthony, made his way over to you, his smile warm and welcoming. He took your hand in his, his grip firm but gentle, and led you onto the dance floor.

"Thank you for being here, my dear," he said, pulling you closer into his embrace. You could feel the strength in his arms, a stark contrast to the softness of his voice.

His cologne, a rich blend of leather and sandalwood, wrapped around you, a comforting scent that reminded you of the safety and protection a father's arms could offer.

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Hamilton," you replied, your voice a soft whisper against his chest. You felt a strange comfort in his arms, a sense of belonging that you hadn't felt since your own father had passed away.

The music washed over you, a gentle symphony that seemed to be composed just for the two of you. You moved in sync with him, his steps guiding yours with a grace that could only come from years of experience.

His hand rested at the small of your back, the heat from his palm seeping through the fabric of your dress and setting your skin alight.

You looked up at him, his eyes crinkling with kindness. "You know, you're quite the catch," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "My son is a very lucky man."

You blushed, your heart fluttering at the compliment. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely audible over the music. "Lewis is… quite the catch himself."

Anthony chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Yes, he is," he agreed. "But I can see the way he looks at you. There's more to this than just a business deal."

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond. The truth was, you didn't know what was happening between you and Lewis. It was like you had stumbled into a fairy tale, except the prince was a billionaire race car driver, and the marriage was as fake as the smile you painted on every day.

"You don't have to tell me," he said, as if sensing your discomfort. "But just remember, love has a way of sneaking up on you when you least expect it."

His words hung in the air, and you felt a sudden tightness in your chest. Was that what this was? Love? The very thought was terrifying, and yet, as you watched Lewis across the room, his eyes never leaving yours, you couldn't help but wonder if there was some truth to it.

The dance ended all too soon, and you found yourself back in the swirl of the party, the music and laughter a cacophony around you. You searched the room for Lewis, needing to be near him, to feel the reassurance of his presence.

Then, you heard a mic being tapped, and the volume of the room dropped like a curtain. You looked at the stage to see Maya and Miles with grins on their faces that could only mean one thing – they were about to give their speeches.

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew Maya all too well; she was the kind of friend who had a knack for speaking her mind, especially when it came to juicy secrets.

Miles took the mic first, his voice smooth and charming. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I'd like to start by saying how honored I am to be standing here today, witnessing the union of two of the most amazing people I know."

"Now," he continued, "I know we're all here to celebrate the love between Lewis and his beautiful bride," he said, pausing for effect. "But what I'd like to remind everyone is that this isn't just a marriage – it's a partnership that's going to be taking the racing world by storm. And speaking of storms, I've got a little something for you two,"

Maya strutted up to the podium, the mic in one hand and a glint in her eye that had you on the edge of your seat. She tapped it, the sound echoing through the room, and announced,

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to share a little story about how our dashing couple met. It's not your average love at first sight tale, oh no."

You felt your face heat up as the room grew quieter, all eyes on Maya. Lewis's hand tightened around yours, his thumb stroking your knuckles in a silent message of reassurance. You could see the curiosity in his eyes, a hint of amusement playing on his lips.

Maya began, "Picture this: Two strangers, thrown together by fate, or should I say, by Ferrari. A billionaire playboy, and a girl with a heart of gold. They say opposites attract, but in this case, it was more like a collision of epic proportions!"

The audience chuckled, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of dread and excitement. You knew Maya had a wild imagination, and she wasn't one to shy away from spicing things up.

"They say love is a wild ride," she continued, her voice taking on a dramatic tone. "But let me tell you, when these two hit the track, it was nothing short of explosive! The chemistry was palpable, the tension could have fueled a race car!"

Your heart raced as she painted a vivid picture of your whirlwind romance, embellishing every detail and adding a steamy twist here and there. You shot her a glare, but she only winked back, reveling in the moment.

Miles took over, his deep voice a stark contrast to Maya's. "But what you don't know," he said, leaning into the mic, "is that there was a secret deal made, a deal that would change the course of their lives forever. A marriage of convenience, you say? Pish-posh!"

The crowd leaned in, eager to hear the juicy details. You held your breath, waiting for the inevitable revelation of your arrangement with Lewis. But instead, Miles spun a tale of a daring bet between the two friends, one that had led to a year of adventure and discovery.

"They said they'd keep it professional," Miles said with a wink. "But when love enters the race, all bets are off!"

You felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. It wasn't the truth, but it was close enough to keep the secret intact. The crowd roared with laughter, and you couldn't help but laugh along, the tension in the room dissipating like mist on a warm morning.

As the applause died down, you leaned into Lewis, whispering, "Your friend is something else."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "He does have a way of keeping things interesting," he murmured, pulling you closer.

The rest of the reception was a blur of laughter, dancing, and whispered secrets. The speeches had been a wild ride, but somehow, you found yourself enjoying the thrill of it all.

The way Lewis looked at you, the way his hand never left your side – it was as if you had stumbled into a love story after all.

As the night went on, you were able to relax, a glass of champagne in hand, chatting with your friends who had flown in for the occasion. They were all buzzing with excitement, eager to hear every detail of your whirlwind romance with the infamous Lewis Hamilton.

You felt a thrill run down your spine every time they talked about your "true love," knowing that it was all just a well-orchestrated facade. But the way he made you feel, the way he looked at you – it was easy to get lost in the fantasy.

You took a sip of the bubbly liquid, the coolness of it spreading through your body like a gentle caress. The alcohol did its work, loosening your inhibitions and making you feel light, like you were floating on air.

The room was warm, a cozy cocoon of friendship and goodwill that enveloped you, making the weight of your deception feel a little less heavy.

Your friend Laura leaned in, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, what's it really like being married to a superstar?" she asked, her voice low and conspiratorial. You giggled, feeling a little tipsy and more than a little bit naughty.

"Well, it's not all fast cars and glamour," you said, your voice a purr. "But the perks aren't too shabby." You shared a knowing look with her, and she squealed, her hand flying to her mouth. You had always had a flair for the dramatic, and tonight was no exception.

As you talked, the room grew hazier, the air thick with the scent of expensive perfumes and cologne mingling with the aroma of fine wine and rich food.

The music was a sensual backdrop, the rhythm pulsing through the floorboards, inviting you to move. You felt the warmth of Lewis's hand on the small of your back as he joined your circle of friends, his presence a comforting warmth that seemed to drive the chill of doubt away.

"Let's dance," he whispered in your ear, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. You nodded, placing your hand in his, and allowed him to lead you into the throng of bodies, each swaying to the seductive rhythm.

His hand slid to your waist, his fingers ghosting over the smooth fabric of your dress, and you felt a thrill at the possessive way he held you, his other hand cradling yours.

The music was a slow, sultry number that seemed to resonate within the very core of your being. His thigh brushed against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

His touch was like a brand, leaving a trail of heat wherever it went. You looked into his eyes, and for a moment, you forgot about the cameras, the guests, the lie. It was just the two of you, lost in a dance that felt all too real.

The conversation with your friends was lively, their questions about married life to the legendary Lewis Hamilton met with your playful evasions and coy smiles. The champagne bubbled in your veins, making you feel more daring, more alive.

You caught Laura's eye, and she winked, a knowing smile playing on her lips. The tension between you and Lewis was palpable, a secret only the two of you shared, and it was intoxicating.

Suddenly, the music shifted to something softer, a classic love song that seemed to beckon for a more intimate moment.

You felt Lewis's hand tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, your bodies fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle you never knew you were meant to complete.

His breath was hot against your neck, sending shivers down your spine as he whispered, "Let's take the family picture."

You nodded, allowing him to lead you off the dance floor and towards the small area designated for family photos. Your mother sat watching, her eyes filled with a warmth that seemed to say she knew more than she was letting on.

She patted the seat beside her, and you sat down, feeling a sudden vulnerability that the alcohol hadn't quite prepared you for.

Lewis's father, Anthony, took a seat. The sight was surreal, a makeshift family portrait that was as beautiful as it was unexpected. The photographer, a friend of the Hamiltons, approached with a professional smile. "Ready?" he asked, holding up the camera.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the erratic beating of your heart. Lewis sat beside you, his hand reaching for yours, and you felt a rush of affection that was as surprising as it was overwhelming.

The camera clicked, capturing the four of you in a moment of forced intimacy that somehow felt more genuine than you had anticipated.

The flash illuminated the room, freezing the scene in time – a snapshot of a life that wasn't quite real, but felt more right than anything you had ever known.

The picture was taken, and the moment passed, but the warmth lingered. You couldn't help but look at the image displayed on the camera's screen – the four of you, a small but significant representation of what could have been.

Your mother's smile was wide, her eyes sparkling with happiness, and you realized that maybe this wasn't just about the Ferrari deal. Maybe, just maybe, it was about creating a new kind of family, one born from necessity but blossoming into something more.

The photographer handed the camera to Lewis, who studied the picture with a thoughtful expression. "It's perfect," he murmured, his thumb brushing over the image of your joined hands.

"Yes," your mother agreed, her voice thick with emotion. "It's like looking at a real family."

The words hung in the air, and you felt a sudden tightness in your throat. This was supposed to be just a year of pretending, but the lines between reality and the role you were playing were beginning to blur.

As you looked into the camera lens, you realized that the love in your eyes for Lewis was no longer just an act.

It was a tangible thing, a living, breathing entity that had snuck into your heart without you even noticing. . . .

His eyes scanned the room, finally settling on her. Y/N. Even her name felt foreign on his tongue. She was surrounded by her friends, a vibrant group of women who punctuated her words with laughter. He watched her, a strange curiosity washing over him.

She seemed… lighter, more at ease than he’d ever seen her with him. The corners of her eyes crinkled as she smiled, a genuine, unburdened smile that never quite reached him.

He felt a tap on his shoulder. His father, Anthony, stood beside him, a proud smile plastered on his face. "Son, I've gotten you and your wife a present."

Lewis braced himself. He knew his father’s “presents” usually came with strings attached.

Anthony gestured towards a nearby table. On it sat a framed picture. Lewis's breath caught in his throat. It was a photo from the ceremony, taken just as the priest declared them husband and wife.

In the picture, he was kissing Y/N. The angle made it look passionate, intimate. A lie meticulously crafted for public consumption.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” Anthony beamed. “A perfect memento of your special day. I’ve already had copies made for all the papers.”

Lewis forced a smile. “Right. Perfect.”

He took the frame, the cold glass a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand. The kiss in the photograph was nothing more than a well-rehearsed move, a performance for the cameras. Yet, looking at it now, with the love in her eyes captured in that split second, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something akin to regret.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with something he couldn’t quite identify.

Anthony clapped him on the back, his eyes gleaming. "Remember, son, this is just the beginning. You two are going to be the golden couple of the racing world. A powerhouse team that can't be beat."

Lewis nodded, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach. He had agreed to this sham of a marriage for the sake of the Ferrari deal, for the sake of his career, but seeing the hope in his father's eyes made him feel like a fraud.

Anthony leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Now, I know this isn't the way you planned your wedding night," he began, "but I've got a little surprise for the two of you."

Lewis's heart skipped a beat, his mind racing with what his father could possibly mean.

"Dad," he began, his voice tight. "We've talked about this. It's just for show."

Anthony's smile never wavered. "Of course, of course," he said, patting Lewis's back. "But a little bit of authenticity goes a long way, doesn't it?" His eyes twinkled with mischief. "Besides, I've got a feeling that there's more to this arrangement than meets the eye."

Lewis felt a sudden heat rise to his cheeks. His father had always had a knack for reading him like a book, and it was clear he wasn't fooled by the façade. But before he could protest, Y/N's mother called Anthony over, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Goodbye son," his father said, his grip firm on Lewis's shoulder. "I hope you can enjoy this new chapter in your life."

The words echoed in Lewis's ears as he watched his father walk away, leaving him standing next to the framed photograph.

He glanced back at Y/N, her laughter filling the air like music. Her eyes caught his, and she offered a soft smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was a smile for the cameras, a smile that said, “Everything is fine.”

But Lewis knew better. He could see the shadows that lurked beneath the surface, the doubt that she kept so well hidden.

He made his way over to her, the floor seeming to tilt beneath his feet. He had to admit, the champagne was hitting him harder than he'd expected.

The warmth of her hand in his was like a lifeline, grounding him in a reality that was quickly becoming more tangled than the vines that adorned the walls of the venue.

Their guests began to file out, their laughter and chatter fading like the last notes of a symphony. The grand ballroom grew quiet, the only sound the soft clink of crystal and the rustle of fabric as they moved together.

The first guest approached, an older woman with a cackle that could cut through glass. She leaned in, her breath hot with whiskey, and whispered in his ear, "A little something to keep you both warm on those cold nights, dear."

With a wink, she handed him a velvet box that was surprisingly heavy. He took it, feeling the weight of her assumption pressing down on his shoulders.

The next was a burly man, a sponsor for the racing team, who clapped him on the back hard enough to make him stumble. "Here you go, champ," he said, his meaty hand palming Lewis a bottle of cognac.

"Keep her happy, yeah?" The bottle was cold, the condensation already forming on the glass a stark contrast to the heat of his cheeks.

A procession of well-wishers followed, each with a gift more extravagant than the last. A set of silver cufflinks that weighed down his wrists, a leather-bound book of love sonnets that smelled faintly of cigars, and a sculpture of a Ferrari that was so intricately detailed it looked as if it could drive off the table at any moment.

Each time, the guest would lean in and whisper something about the marriage bed, their eyes glinting with knowing amusement, as if they were all in on a secret that was anything but secret.

The weight of the gifts grew heavier with each addition, until Lewis felt like he was carrying the weight of a thousand expectations. The room spun around him, the lights playing tricks on his vision as he tried to keep his smile in place.

Finally, the last guest had gone, the caterers had cleared away the last of the dishes, and the music had faded to a dull throb.

The only people left were their closest friends, the ones who had known them before the racing world had claimed them, before the Ferrari deal had turned their lives into a performance.

Lewis placed the last gift on the pile, his heart racing. He could feel the eyes of their friends on him, the same friends who had seen them through the ups and downs of their careers, who knew that this marriage was a sham.

He approached Y/N, who was still sipping on her champagne, surrounded by her giggling friends. The way they leaned into her, whispering sweet nothings, made him feel like an outsider in his own wedding. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions that surged within him.

As he drew closer, the scent of her perfume reached him, a delicate blend of jasmine and vanilla that had haunted his dreams for weeks. It was the same scent she'd worn on their first time meeting each other.

He wrapped his hand around her waist, feeling the smooth fabric of her dress give way to the warm, supple flesh beneath. Her breath caught in her throat, the sudden touch sending a tremor through her body that made him tighten his grip, if only to steady her.

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes wide and searching, and for a moment, Lewis wondered if she could feel the storm of doubt and desire that raged within him.

He leaned closer, the scent of her perfume wrapping around him like a seductive embrace.

Her breath hitched, the soft fabric of her dress whispering against his fingertips as he pulled her closer. He felt the warmth of her skin through the gossamer material, her body responding to his touch with a delicate shiver.

Their eyes locked, and in the silence of the emptying ballroom, the truth of their arrangement danced unspoken between them. The air grew thick with tension, the only sound the erratic beating of their hearts.

"Are you ready to go?" he muttered, the words barely escaping his lips.

The music had stopped, the laughter had faded, and the only sound left was the erratic thumping of their hearts. The question hung in the air, a silent plea for a connection that went beyond the script they'd been given.

Y/N's eyes searched his, a mix of confusion and something else, something he hadn't anticipated. Her cheeks were flushed, not from the heat of the room but from the potent cocktail of emotions that swirled within her.

The champagne had done its work, loosening her inhibitions and leaving her vulnerable to the storm that brewed in her chest.

"Tired?" she murmured, her breath warm against his neck. The word was a question and an invitation, a gentle challenge to his intentions.

Her pulse quickened, a silent rhythm that matched the tempo of his own heartbeat, echoing through the sensitive skin of his neck.

Lewis nodded, the simple gesture loaded with a world of meaning. His eyes never leaving hers, he felt a strange thrill at the thought of her submission, her willingness to follow him into the unknown.

He wasn't tired in the traditional sense; he was weary of the charade, the endless masquerade that had become their lives.

"Let me say bye to my friends," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. The words seemed to hang in the air, a declaration of intent that sent a shiver down his spine. The room swirled around them, the faces of the remaining guests a blur of pastel colors and forced smiles.

He nodded, his hand still clutching hers, the heat of their connection a stark contrast to the cool air conditioning. The tension between them was palpable, a living thing that seemed to pulse in time with their racing pulses.

Y/N turned to her friends, her smile a practiced mask that didn't quite reach her eyes. She whispered her goodbyes, each word a silent promise that she'd return to them, unchanged by the whims of fate that had brought her to this moment.

The women hugged her tightly, a few whispering words of advice or congratulations that she barely heard over the roar of blood in her ears.

As she moved from one friend to the next, her mind swirled with the gravity of the situation. The warmth of their embraces was a stark contrast to the icy grip of doubt that had taken hold of her heart. Each goodbye felt like a final farewell, a symbolic cutting of ties to the life she knew.

When she finally turned back to him, her eyes searched his for reassurance. The intensity of his gaze made her knees wobble, and she took a deep breath to steady herself.

"I'm ready," she murmured, the words a soft caress against his skin.

Their friends had formed a corridor, cheering and showering them with the remaining confetti as they walked hand in hand towards the exit.

Each step felt like a leap into the abyss, the weight of their decision pressing down on their shoulders. Yet, with every footfall, the tension grew more electric, the anticipation more potent.

The confetti fluttered around them like a blizzard of colorful secrets, whispering sweet nothings of passion and promise.

Each piece that stuck to their skin was a silent testament to the excitement of the night to come. The cheers grew louder, the claps more insistent, as if the very air was urging them onward.

Y/N felt a strange mix of exhilaration and fear. The confetti stuck to her lashes, her hair, the fabric of her dress, a glittering reminder of the happiness they were expected to embody.

His grip on her hand was firm, grounding her in the present, as the cacophony of their friends' celebration grew dimmer with every step.

As they passed the threshold, the confetti cascading down like a glittering waterfall at their backs, the weight of their decision settled over them.

The cool evening air kissed their flushed faces, a stark contrast to the heated passion that awaited them. The world outside the ballroom felt alien, a place where their roles could be shed like the very confetti that clung to their clothes.

Their eyes met, a silent promise exchanged, and the cheers of their friends faded into the distance. The night was theirs, a canvas upon which they would paint their desires without the judgmental eyes of society watching over them.

He led her to the limo, the driver holding the door open with a knowing smile.

The cool leather of the seat was a stark contrast to the heat that emanated from their bodies, their hearts beating in unison like a primal drum.

As the car pulled away from the curb, the city lights danced across their faces, casting shadows that played upon their features like lovers' whispers.

The confetti that clung to them fluttered in the breeze from the open window, a gentle reminder of the world they'd left behind.

Y/N leaned back into the plush seat, her eyes closing for a brief moment as she allowed herself to be enveloped by the sensation of the cool leather against her skin. She was tired, but it wasn't the physical exhaustion of the wedding that weighed her down.

"Wake me up when we get there," she muttered, the words slipping out of her mouth like a soft sigh.

Lewis chuckled lowly, his eyes never leaving the road ahead.

"I don't think that's going to be an issue," he murmured, his voice a velvety rumble that sent shivers down her spine.

The idea of staying at his house had been a fleeting thought, a secret fantasy that had danced at the edge of their consciousness since the moment they'd met.

The car's smooth ride seemed to mimic the rhythm of his breath, deep and steady. The scent of her perfume filled the space around them, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that had become as familiar to him as his own heartbeat.

Lewis hummed but discarded that thought immediately. He wasn't going to wake her up.

The gentle vibrations of the car's engine lulled her into a deep, peaceful sleep, her head resting against his shoulder. Her soft, even breaths brushed against his neck, sending waves of warmth through his body.

He felt a primal need to protect her, to shield her from the world outside, even if just for this one night. His eyes remained on the road, but his mind was lost in the sweetness of her presence.

When the limo arrived at his house, he thanked the driver with a nod and a tip that conveyed the depth of his gratitude.

The engine's purr grew quieter as the car came to a stop, and the world outside seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of what was to come. The headlights cast an ethereal glow across the manicured lawn, illuminating a path that led to his front door.

He turned to her, the soft curve of her cheek still pressed against his shoulder, her lashes fluttering with the beginnings of a dream. Gently, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her like a precious treasure that had been entrusted to him.

Her eyes remained closed, but a faint smile played upon her lips as if she knew she was safe, protected in the cocoon of his embrace.

The cool night air kissed her skin as he carried her up the stone steps to the grand entrance of his house. The weight of her was comforting, grounding him in a way that his vast wealth and power never had.

The door swung open, revealing a warm, inviting foyer that was a stark contrast to the cold, impersonal hotel suite they had just left behind.

Inside, the scent of freshly baked cookies wafted from the kitchen, a welcome greeting that seemed to have been orchestrated by some invisible hand.

He kicked off his shoes, the sound echoing through the hallway, and carried her to the living room. The crackling fireplace cast flickering shadows across the floor, dancing over the polished hardwood like a living tapestry.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she took in her surroundings with a sleepy smile. "This isn't the hotel," she murmured, her voice a soft purr that seemed to resonate with the warmth of the room.

He chuckled, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. "No, it's not. This is my home," he said, his voice thick with the promise of what the night would hold.

He lowered her onto his plush bed, her legs draped over his as he sat beside her, one hand never leaving her waist.

Her eyes searched his, the sleepiness replaced by a spark of excitement. She knew this was a pivotal moment, one that would change their dynamic forever. "What are we doing?" she whispered, her heart racing.

With a knowing smile, he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers, the warmth of his breath mingling with hers. "Whatever you want," he replied, his voice a seductive whisper that seemed to coil around her like a lover's embrace.

He kissed her again, more insistent this time, his hand sliding up her side to cradle her neck, his thumb tracing the delicate line of her jaw.

Her breath hitched, and she leaned into him, her body responding instinctively to the heat of his touch. The weight of his hand on her neck sent a shiver down her spine, and she could feel her skin prickling with anticipation.

His thumb traced the outline of her ear, sending a cascade of sensations through her, making her squirm with pleasure.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the soft recesses of her mouth, tasting the sweetness that was uniquely hers.

Her hands found his shoulders, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as if to hold onto him, to never let go. . . .

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brittle-doughie · 6 months ago

Note

Eyoooooo I Uhh, have a really long au that’s been kinda driving me insane to keep to myself lately but not only is it nowhere near done, I’m pretty sure it’s already way too long to reasonably fit into an ask so, I guess I’m asking if you’d like to read it? Idrk I just want someone to share this idea with so that I don’t lose it completely. It’s a variation of the beast ancients au but things go horribly wrong both really slowly and really quickly.

As payment for a nothing ask, I give you: a character study moment that has absolutely nothing to do with the au in question I just thought it was neat.

You were cornered.

Nowhere left to run.

The last gleam of hope dying as you stumbled your way in. All that greets you is red torchlit stonework.

‘Why the hell are there even dead ends in here?!’ You mutter, mostly to yourself, knowing full well there’s not much of a point in being quiet now. But your incredibly valid question must wait as your pursuer, and the one who broke off your leg has found you. Huddled in the corner, clutching a dagger and jam still leaking out of where your leg once was. He hums, an idea having piqued his interest. The loud clatter of his weapon falling against the floor startles you to attention. What you see, is quite strange indeed.

Burning Spice Cookie stands just a few feet away from you, arms outstretched as if waiting for a hug, and a colossally smug smile on his face. Stranger still, is what he says next.

“Come here, hit me, show me that fire in your eyes again, little cookie”

By far, the weirdest thing though, is that you listen to him.

Hobbling back to get a better angle, your remaining leg shudders and struggles to carry you any farther. The dagger in your hand the only thing still keeping you grounded, aware that what is happening is real. And Burning Spice simply waits, far more patiently then you ever expected him capable of. The hopelessness of the situation rattles you once again, and it spurs you forward, dagger flying through the air towards your assailant, and you along with it.

The dagger strikes true, piercing through dough with ease as jam leaks out of the wound you’ve caused, wetting your hands as you try to keep your vice grip on the dagger as your good leg has finally given out on you. Putting your whole weight on the comparatively tiny blade.

And he doesn’t even flinch

Burning Spice plucks you by the nape, holding you up in one hand as the other pulls out the dagger. Your hands fall down with it, barely having the strength to keep focus now.

“A well placed strike given your handicap. I think I’ll keep you all to myself.” He brings his hand up to cup your cheek, even after you flinch away, he remains ever gentle, ever patient. A part of you is pretty sure you’re hallucinating from jam loss at this point. That’s the only explanation for this-

“I wonder what that fire in your eyes will become. Will it be smothered-“ Burning Spice is stopped mid sentence as something cuts him just below his eye. He simply cannot help the fondness and pride he feels for you already. His grinning teeth on full display as if revelling in the wounds you’ve caused.

“Yes, I’ve already decided. You will be my favourite little spitfire.” Your head slumps, dagger clattering to the floor as your grievous wound finally catches up to you. And just as gently, Burning Spice carries you to your new home.

-ephemeralcryptid

Y/N Cookie will be a beautiful new addition to the Spice Swarm.

Golden Cheese was only holding them back, keeping them a constant in the tides of Change. Burning Spice can fix that….

And now? She can only watch as Burning Spice leaves with them deeper into his palace, their weak body in his arms.

She wanted to scream….

Run after them…

Demand he comes back to fight her….

Instead…

Between her dough cracking and coughing up strawberry jam…

She cries….

She cries for her precious treasure back….

A treasure that may not be hers anymore…..

#brittle answers #cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run x you #cr x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk x reader #cookie run kingdom x reader #cr kingdom #golden cheese cookie x reader #golden cheese cookie #burning spice cookie x reader #burning spice cookie

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p0orbaby · 7 months ago

Text

Skeletons

summary: aitana has a secret that you’re reluctant to keep, but you do, because having her in private is better than not having her at all

warnings: angst, closeted relationship

a/n: inspired by this request ! fyi i’m not a massive fan of the ending so if you think it’s bad then your opinion is valid

word count: 4.9k

It’s been a long day, another day of tactical meetings and drills, the weight of another training session at Barça hanging heavy on your body. You sit beside Aitana in the lounge of her flat—everything pristine but minimal, almost impersonal, as if she's never spent enough time here to give it a real life. No personal touch to the decor, just basic furniture. A lamp that looks like it was picked because it was there and not because it meant anything. The kind of living space of someone who only ever comes home to sleep, or maybe to avoid something else. You think you know what that something else is, or maybe it’s just a suspicion that’s been gnawing at you for years, a quiet terror lodged deep in the center of you, almost as if it's waiting for something to happen. You’re pretty sure it's always been there.

You notice how she sits too close, legs curled beneath her on the sofa, leaning into you in that way she always does when she’s not really aware of it. Aitana’s always been like that—too close, too warm, her casual touches like a silent scream at the back of your mind—her fingers brushing your arm, her shoulder pressing lightly into yours, her laughter soft and private, like you’re the only one who could ever understand the joke, like she trusts you with something that’s too big for either of you to say out loud. It’s a proximity that drives you insane, but you’ve learned to live with it because there’s never been another option. Not really. Not when every look, every smile, every stupid moment of her being this…close keeps you on a knife's edge between bliss and misery.

She looks at you now with those eyes that you’ve memorised, those soft brown eyes that never stop searching, like she’s always trying to find the right words but can never quite get there. It’s a little terrifying, the way she looks at you sometimes. Like you’re the answer to something she hasn't quite plucked up the courage to ask yet.

“I’m glad you came over,” she says, her voice softer than usual, like she's thinking about something more serious but doesn't want to show it. Her hand is on your arm again, a casual thing, but it’s not casual, not to you. It hasn’t been casual for years.

You nod, biting back whatever sarcastic response you might’ve thrown out, because this—this moment feels like a delicate thread, as if one wrong move could break it. And you don’t want to break it. God, you don’t want to break it.

“Of course, I came over. You needed me, right?” you say, forcing a lightness into your voice that feels false, but you’re so used to this performance. It’s second nature. Being near her and pretending like it’s normal when your heart is pounding loud enough to deafen you.

“Yeah,” she says, but there’s something under that single word, something unsure. She leans back into the sofa cushions, and you feel the shift, the weight of her thigh brushing yours, your heart picking up speed even as you try to ignore it. You look at her, and she’s staring at the floor now, like she’s trying to figure something out but can’t bring herself to say it.

You’ve never been good with silence, not between the two of you, not when it feels like this, charged and dangerous, and you almost say something—anything—to break it, but she beats you to it.

“I’ve been thinking,” she says, her voice quiet, her gaze still on the floor. She shifts, her fingers tightening slightly on your arm, and your chest clenches, that familiar wave of something crashing over you. “About…stuff”

The vagueness of it should annoy you, but it doesn’t. Not when her voice sounds like this. Not when her whole body feels tense, like she’s holding something back.

“What kind of stuff?” you ask, keeping your tone casual, keeping the panic buried deep where it belongs. You can’t show it. You can’t let her see how much this is affecting you, how much every word out of her mouth feels like it could unravel you.

She finally looks up at you, and there’s something different in her eyes. Something you haven’t seen before, or maybe you’ve seen it a hundred times but you’ve never let yourself believe it could be real. Her gaze holds yours for a moment, and then she looks away again, biting her bottom lip like she’s nervous.

It’s not a look you see from Aitana often. She’s usually so sure of herself, so confident, even when she’s being quiet, even when she’s being thoughtful. But this—this feels different. She’s fidgeting now, her fingers tapping lightly against her knee, and you can’t help but watch her, trying to figure out what’s going on in her head, trying not to let yourself hope. Because hope is dangerous. Hope is a trap you’ve fallen into too many times, and every time you climb out of it, it feels like it just leaves you more bruised.

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about,” she says, and her voice is so soft now, so fragile. It’s like she’s terrified of what she’s about to say, and that terrifies you because Aitana is never terrified.

You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “What’s up?” you ask, trying to sound calm, even though your heart is racing and there’s a knot forming in your stomach.

She hesitates for a moment, and then she reaches up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous habit you’ve seen a thousand times but never thought much about until now, when everything about her feels heightened, like you’re seeing her for the first time all over again.

“I…” She stops, her voice faltering, and then she takes a deep breath, forcing the words out like they’ve been stuck inside her for too long. “I think I might like someone”

Your chest tightens. This is it. The moment you’ve always dreaded. The moment where she tells you about some guy—some random guy she’s fallen for, the guy she’s going to love the way you wish she would love you.

“Oh,” you say, and it comes out flat, empty. You don’t trust yourself to say anything else.

But she doesn’t look at you. Not yet. Her fingers are still tapping against her knee, her eyes still fixed somewhere just past your shoulder.

“It’s… weird,” she continues, her voice wavering, and now she’s biting her lip again, harder this time, and you can see the tension in her jaw. “Because I didn’t think I’d ever feel like this about…a girl”

Your heart stops. You freeze. Every part of you goes still as her words sink in, slow and heavy, like they’re not quite real. Like they can’t be real.

But she’s still talking, her voice shaky, her eyes finally meeting yours, and you can see the vulnerability there, the uncertainty, the fear that she’s saying something wrong, something that’s going to ruin everything. And suddenly you’re not breathing, not thinking, not doing anything except sitting there, staring at her, because what else can you do? What can you say when the thing you’ve wanted for so long is suddenly, inexplicably, in front of you?

“I don’t know what to do,” she whispers, and now her hand is resting on your arm again, her fingers brushing your skin in a way that feels deliberate, feels like more than just a casual touch.

And you—God, you don’t know what to do either. You don’t know how to breathe, how to think, how to process what’s happening. Because this—this moment—is something you’ve imagined a thousand times in your head, something you’ve dreamed about but never really believed would happen.

But it is happening. Right now. Right in front of you.

You blink, your throat tight, your mind a mess of thoughts that don’t make any sense, and she’s still looking at you, still waiting for you to say something, do something, anything. But you can’t. You can’t because you’re terrified that if you move, if you speak, if you do anything, this moment will shatter and you’ll wake up and it’ll all be gone.

So you sit there, frozen, staring at her, trying to understand how you got here, trying to understand what this means, trying to understand her—Aitana, your best friend, the girl you’ve been in love with for what feels like forever.

And she’s looking at you like she’s scared. Scared of what you’ll say, scared of what you’ll do. But more than that, she looks scared of herself, of what she’s feeling. You can see the uncertainty in her eyes, the way she’s still not sure if this is okay, if she’s okay, if liking you—wanting you—is something she’s allowed to want.

“I’m scared,” she says softly, and it breaks you because Aitana doesn’t get scared. She’s brave. She’s fearless. She’s everything you’ve always wanted to be. And now she’s sitting here, vulnerable and uncertain, and you don’t know how to help her because you’re still trying to figure out how to help yourself.

But then she looks at you again, her eyes searching yours, and something shifts. Something clicks into place. And before you can stop yourself, before you can think about what you’re doing, you reach out and take her hand, your fingers lacing with hers, warm and steady and real.

“I’m here,” you say, your voice quiet but firm. “I’m not going anywhere”

And for the first time in what feels like forever, she smiles, just a little. A small, tentative smile, but it’s enough. It’s everything.

It starts slowly, like all dangerous things do. A late-night text that pulls you back to her place after training, her fingertips brushing your hand on the walk back from the gym, a lingering glance that lasts just a second too long when she thinks no one’s paying attention. You both fall into it like gravity’s pulling you, and for a while, it’s enough. Enough to have her behind closed doors, enough to know that, at least in those quiet moments between just the two of you, she’s yours.

But it’s also nothing like what you’d imagined all those years, lying in your own bed staring at the ceiling, wondering what it’d be like to have her next to you for real. It’s not perfect—it can’t be, not when everything has to be hidden. You’re still her best friend in public, the girl she spends all her time with, the girl who knows her better than anyone else. But not the girl she kisses when the cameras aren’t flashing, not the girl she pulls close when no one’s looking.

Those moments belong only to the nights when her guard is down, when her walls crumble and she lets you in, just for a few hours. It’s messy, but you’ve always known it would be. Aitana is nothing if not a contradiction—so sure of herself on the pitch, so certain of what she wants when it comes to football, but with this—with you—she’s hesitant. Insecure, even, and it’s a side of her you’re still learning how to navigate.

It’s late one night after another exhausting match, and she’s already taken her shower, her hair damp against the pillow as you lie beside her. Her apartment smells faintly of eucalyptus from the diffuser she never turns off, and the air between you feels heavy, like it always does after sex. Like there’s something unsaid just hanging there, but neither of you is brave enough to say it.

She’s resting her head on your chest, one arm draped lazily across your stomach, her fingers tracing absent patterns against your skin. And for a moment, everything is perfect. Just her and you, tangled together in her too-big bed, your bodies sore but comfortable in the way that only comes with familiarity. You feel her breath against your neck, steady and soft, and you close your eyes, trying to commit every second of this to memory. These are the moments you live for now.

But then she speaks, her voice low and hesitant, and you know what’s coming before she even says it.

“You know we can’t tell anyone, right?” Her fingers stop moving, and she lifts her head to look at you, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “Not yet”

It’s not the first time she’s said it, and it won’t be the last. You’ve had this conversation before, too many times to count. But each time, it feels like a fresh wound, like she’s cutting into you all over again with that same blunt blade. You want to tell her that it hurts, that it tears you apart every time she introduces you to someone as “just a friend” or dodges questions about her love life in interviews, leaving you wondering what it would feel like to be acknowledged, even just once.

But you don’t say that. You won’t. Because you know she’s scared. Scared of what it means, scared of what people will say, scared of admitting to herself that she’s not the person she thought she was. And you love her too much to push her. So instead, you nod, keeping your voice steady even though your chest feels like it’s caving in.

“Yeah, I know”

She sighs in relief, dropping her head back to your chest, her body relaxing against yours again. And just like that, the conversation is over. She’s yours again—for now, at least.

But there are moments, moments when the secret feels too heavy, too suffocating, and you don’t know how long you can keep carrying it without cracking under the pressure. It happens one day after a game, when the whole team goes out to celebrate a win, and you’re sitting at the bar, nursing a beer and trying to keep your distance. Because that’s what you do now. You keep your distance. You stay just close enough to be there for her, but never close enough to make anyone suspicious.

Aitana’s across the room, talking with a group of teammates, laughing at something Alexia says, and for a second, it’s like she forgets you’re even there. She’s in her element, charming and confident, the version of herself you’ve always admired. And when someone asks her about dating—probably joking, probably not thinking twice about it—you watch her laugh it off, deflecting like she always does.

“No, I’m not seeing anyone,” she says, so casually, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like you don’t exist. Like the nights you’ve spent together, wrapped up in each other, mean nothing.

It hits you harder than it should. Harder than it ever has before. And you know it’s not fair to feel like this—it’s not fair to her, and it’s not fair to you. You knew what this was when you started, knew that it wasn’t going to be easy. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

You drain the rest of your beer, the bitterness burning your throat, and get up to leave before anyone notices. Before she notices. You can’t sit there and watch her laugh and flirt with other people, pretending like she’s not going to go home with you tonight. Pretending like she’s not yours.

When you’re halfway to the door, you feel her hand on your arm, and you stop, turning to face her. She looks up at you, her expression soft, her eyes wide and questioning.

“Where are you going?” she asks, her voice low enough that no one else can hear. “You’re not leaving, are you?”

“I’m tired,” you say, not bothering to hide the edge in your voice. “I think I’ll head home”

Aitana frowns, her hand still on your arm, like she’s not ready to let you go yet. Like she can feel the shift, the tension simmering just beneath the surface. “I thought we’d—”

“I know,” you cut her off, not wanting to hear it. Not wanting to hear her try to make this okay when it’s not. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

You pull away from her, walking out into the cool night air, your heart pounding in your chest. You need space. You need air. You need time to remember why you’re doing this, why you’re putting yourself through this, why you keep coming back to her even when it hurts.

And later, when you’re lying in your own bed, staring up at the ceiling again, you remind yourself of all the reasons why. The way she looks at you when no one’s watching. The way she holds you close at night, like she’s afraid you’ll disappear. The way she whispers your name in the dark, her voice soft and vulnerable in a way it never is around anyone else.

She’s worth it, you tell yourself. She’s worth the pain, the hiding, the pretending. Because you have her. Maybe not in the way you always dreamed, but you have her.

It’s an away game in Seville, the kind where the atmosphere is tense but electric, the city vibrating with the weight of the upcoming match. The hotel isn’t much, just another chain where the carpets smell faintly of stale cigarettes and overuse. You’re in one of those rooms that looks exactly the same as all the others, sterile and impersonal—off-white walls, a single window overlooking the car park, a television bolted to the wall like an afterthought. But right now, none of that matters.

Aitana’s there with you, her back pressed against the cheap headboard, her hair a tangled mess around her face. She’s just come out of the shower, skin still damp and smelling like hotel soap, and there’s something reckless in her eyes tonight, something unspoken simmering between you both. There’s always been that quiet, dangerous tension with her, like you’re both walking a line neither of you knows how to stay on.

You hadn’t planned for this. Maybe you never plan for it. It’s just a hunger that’s become second nature, something that overtakes you both when you’re alone together, something neither of you can resist. Her lips had found yours the moment the bathroom door clicked shut behind you, the match tomorrow the last thing on either of your minds. You’re supposed to be resting, supposed to be saving your energy for the game, but there’s always this with her, this fever that takes over when you’re in the same room.

It doesn’t take long before you’re pulling her close, her fingers digging into your back, her breath hot against your neck as you press her against the mattress. The room feels like it’s spinning, like it’s just you and her and nothing else matters. And the noise—God, you can’t help the sounds she makes when you touch her, the way she bites back a moan, then gives up, letting it out like a release of all the tension she’s been holding in. The bed creaks beneath you, too loud in the silence of the hotel, but neither of you care. It’s too late to care.

You lose track of time. You lose track of everything except the feel of her beneath you, the way her body responds to yours, the way she whispers your name like it’s the only word she knows. And for that stretch of time—however long it is—she’s yours, wholly and completely. There’s no team, no match, no world outside this room. It’s just her, and you, and the way she looks at you when she lets her guard down, when she lets herself need you.

But then there’s a knock at the wall, followed by a muffled voice that snaps you both back to reality. You freeze, still half-entangled with her, your breath ragged, your heart pounding.

“Oye! Quiet down in there!” someone yells through the wall. The voice is too familiar—Pina, or maybe Patri—it doesn’t matter who it is. The point is, they’ve heard. The walls are paper-thin, you realise, and you hadn’t exactly been discreet.

You scramble off her, untangling yourself from the sheets, and for a moment, the only sound is your own breathing, loud in the sudden silence. Aitana’s eyes are wide, her face flushed, her bare chest rising and falling rapidly, and you can see the panic starting to creep in. Not panic because they know—no, they don’t know who she is. Panic because they think it’s just another random hookup. Another girl you picked up on a whim.

There’s another knock, louder this time, more insistent. “We get it! You’ve got company,” someone calls, laughing now, their voice tinged with amusement. “Didn’t know you’d have a guest tonight”

You let out a breath, already slipping into the familiar role. The one where you play it off like this is nothing. Like this is just another night, just another girl. You’ve done it so many times before—it’s a routine at this point. The jokes, the teasing, the knowing looks from your teammates when they hear about another one of your so-called conquests. It’s all part of the act, the persona you’ve built to cover for what’s really going on.

You flash a quick smile at Aitana, hoping to reassure her, but the look she gives you is anything but reassured. It’s tight, like she’s barely holding it together. You ignore it for now, your mind racing for the right thing to say.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry about that,” you call back, trying to keep your voice light, casual, like you’re not lying through your teeth. “I’ll keep it down. Promise”

There’s more laughter from the other side of the wall, some muttered jokes about your reputation, about your ‘lucky night,’ but eventually it quiets down. They’re not going to press you. They never do. You’ve always been able to laugh it off, always been able to make it seem like none of it matters.

But when you turn back to Aitana, you see the way her eyes have gone dark, her face tight with something that looks like pain, like anger. She’s pulling the sheets up around her, suddenly closed off, like she’s trying to build a wall between you both.

“You okay?” you ask, your voice low, tentative. You reach for her, but she pulls away, sitting up straighter, wrapping the sheet tighter around herself.

There’s a heaviness to the air that wasn’t there before, a weight that settles between the two of you. It’s in the way she’s breathing—slow, measured—like she’s thinking too hard, like she’s bracing herself for something. You glance over at her, half-expecting her to meet your gaze with that teasing smile she always gives after moments like this, but her face is turned toward the ceiling, eyes wide and distant, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Aitana?” you say softly, your voice barely cutting through the thick quiet. You can feel the tension in your chest start to coil, tight and uneasy.

She doesn’t respond right away, and when she finally does, her voice is quieter than you expect, almost tentative, like she’s not sure how to say what’s on her mind. “You didn’t have to do that,” she says, still staring up at the ceiling, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the sheet.

You frown, sitting up a little, trying to make sense of what she means. “Do what?”

“Cover for me.” She says it so softly, like it’s a secret, like it’s something she’s ashamed of, but not in the way you’re used to. Not the shame of being found out. This is different, quieter, heavier. “I know why you did it, but… you didn’t have to”

You blink, thrown off for a second. “You mean… when they knocked on the wall?”

She nods, slowly, her eyes finally drifting from the ceiling to meet yours. There’s something in her eyes that makes your heart drop, something that feels like guilt, but not the kind that comes from getting caught. It’s the kind that lingers, the kind that’s been building for a while.

“I know it’s stupid,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper now, her fingers still moving in that absent way across the sheets, like she’s trying to distract herself from what she’s saying. “I know it’s just how it is. But… when you said that, when you acted like it was someone else, it just—it felt wrong”

You can feel your chest tighten, the words sinking in, slow and heavy. You want to tell her that you had to, that it’s how you’ve always handled it, that you were just trying to protect her. But the way she’s looking at you now, her eyes soft but resolute, makes you pause. She’s not angry. She’s not hurt, not the way you thought she might be. She’s just… sad. Sad that you feel like you need to keep pretending, like you need to keep covering for her.

“I didn’t think it’d bother you,” you say, and it sounds like an excuse as soon as it leaves your mouth, even though it’s the truth. You’ve done this so many times before, played it off like it’s nothing. It’s always been your way of protecting her, of protecting what the two of you have.

“I know you didn’t.” She sits up then, pulling her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them as she looks at you. Her hair falls over her face, messy and damp, and she brushes it aside absently, not really paying attention to it. “But that’s the thing. You shouldn’t have to. Not anymore”

There’s a beat of silence, the words hanging in the air between you. You sit up straighter, searching her face, trying to understand exactly what she’s saying. You’ve had this conversation before, or at least versions of it. But it’s never felt like this. It’s never felt like it’s this close to something real, something neither of you can take back.

“What do you mean?” you ask, your voice cautious, like you’re afraid to push her too far, to make her retreat behind that wall she’s so good at building.

Aitana lets out a slow breath, her eyes not leaving yours. “I mean… I’m tired of hiding. I’m tired of being a secret. And I’m tired of making you cover for me like you’re ashamed of what we have.” Her voice is steady, but there’s a vulnerability in it that catches you off guard, something raw and exposed. “I don’t want to do that to you anymore.”

You stare at her, your heart pounding, trying to make sense of what she’s saying. You’ve always been the one to take the fall, to laugh off the questions, to keep up the charade. You’ve always thought you were doing it for her—because she wasn’t ready, because she needed more time. But now, sitting here, looking at her, you realize that maybe you’ve been doing it for yourself too. Maybe you’ve been hiding just as much as she has, afraid of what it would mean to actually be out there, to actually be seen.

“Aitana…” you start, but she cuts you off, her voice soft but firm.

“I know it won’t be easy,” she says quickly, like she’s already thought this through a thousand times. “I know people will talk, and it’ll be… hard. But I don’t care anymore. I don’t want to hide us. I don’t want you to pretend like I’m just someone you picked up or some random girl in your bed. I’m more than that. I’ve always been more than that”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and for a second, you don’t know how to respond. You’ve spent so long keeping this part of you hidden, keeping this relationship in the shadows, that the idea of stepping out into the light feels… terrifying. But at the same time, hearing her say it, hearing her admit that she’s ready—that she wants to be open—it makes something inside you shift, something that feels like hope.

“Are you sure?” you ask, your voice quieter now, more careful. You don’t want to push her, don’t want to rush her into something she’s not ready for, even though every part of you is screaming to say yes, to finally stop hiding.

She nods, her eyes steady, her expression soft but sure. “I’m sure.” She reaches out then, her hand finding yours, her fingers threading through yours with a quiet certainty. “I don’t want to hide anymore. Not from them, not from anyone.”

You feel the weight of her words settle over you, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like you can breathe. Like the walls you’ve both built are finally starting to come down.

“I don’t want you to hide either,” you admit, the words coming out easier than you thought they would. And it’s true. You’re tired of pretending too, tired of covering for something that’s real, something that’s yours.

Aitana smiles then, a small, tentative smile, but there’s something bright behind it, something that makes your chest ache in the best possible way. She leans in, pressing her forehead to yours, her breath warm against your lips.

“So… I’ll tell them,” she whispers, her voice barely audible, but filled with a kind of quiet determination that makes you believe her.

“No,” you whisper back, your heart pounding, your hand tightening around hers. “We’ll tell them”

#aitana bonmati #aitana bonmati x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 8 months ago

Note

God ever since reading A Gilded Cage I cant get the thought out of my head of a part 2 where Reader doesn't see Jason for a few days after the revelation. Like maybe he thinks he's being kind and giving us some time to process, maybe he's on his angst again, or maybe some outside factor has taken his attention so the only time he's able to visit is while we're asleep.

And the whole night of the reveal feels like a fever dream when we wake up but there's a blanket draped over us and a fuzzy little kitten purring up a storm on our chest (in my heart his name is Bean (short for Toebean)), so we're at least kind of sure it happened. But as the time passes with no sign of Jason our certainty begins to wane and until we finally get fed up and write on the notepad the first thing we've asked for since that night: "You."

Or something like that idek okay I've been over here clawing at my walls frothing at the mouth I never really even liked ak!Jason before reading your stuff and now I'm feral for him and its all your fault and I'm not even mad about it

A Glimmering Collar

AKA Part Two of this series. Ahh, nonnie, you literally cooked with this. I love when my fics inspire people enough to keep thinking on them! Seriously, ty for dropping these ideas in my inbox cause I had nothing going on in my brain for a part two initially. Hope you enjoy!

~2.6k words

You wake up to something tickling your nose. Your body feels heavy, your mind even more so. Nothing in you is ready to open your eyes, to face the fact that last night could all have been a dream. That he isn't– that was just a dream.

Something soft flicks your nose again, and you force your eyes open. You blink hard once. Then twice. It's a kitten. It's tiny, and it's sitting by your face. Every few seconds, its tail sways and brushes your nose.

Oh. You sit up slowly, trying not to frighten the small thing. It looks at you contently over its shoulder and meows. The kitten stretches as you stare at it, then plops itself directly on the blanket resting over your lap.

Huh. There's a blanket you definitely don't remember grabbing sprawled over your legs. You carefully reach down to pet the kitten's head. Your heart melts a little when it nuzzles your fingers and purrs.

You look around the room slowly. Nothing else looks different. The notepad is still in place, but the kitten and blanket all point to one thing. Last night was real. Jason is alive. Jason is the Arkham Knight.

You're trying to wrap your brain around that when the door flies open, nearly making you jump out of your skin.

"Good morning!!" A flurry of voice call from the doorway. Your eyes widen as three brightly dressed people strut their way into your apartment, "Are you ready for your shopping trip, hun?"

"My– excuse me?" You stumble out, tucking the kitten to your chest as you stand.

They giggle, and one of them steps forward, "Your shopping trip, sweetie! And spa day, of course. Oh, ha, we haven't even been introduced, have we? I'm Krystal with a K, she's Destini with an i and he's Robbi also with an i."

Robbi huffs and walks up to you to pet your kitten, "Why can't you ever introduce Destini second? She can be Destini also with an i, ya know."

The other girl walks up to you as well and picks affectionately at your clothes, "Because it's alphabetical that way, Robbi. Now you better go get dressed, we have brunch reservations and mimosa plans!"

"I– sorry? What?" You ask, eyes darting between the three of them. Whatever this is, you can't keep up. You've barely processed Jason kidnapped you, and now you're supposed to go get a massage and drinks?

"The boss wants you to go out," a flat voice cuts in. You're the only one that stiffens at the sight of two large men stepping through the door.

Krystal speaks up, "We're here to make sure you have a good time! And Mack and John are here to keep us safe!"

"Mack and John," You echo weakly.

"Your body guards, silly," Destini chirps, ushering you to your room. She plucks the kitten from your hands, "Now get dressed! Wear something nice!"

You stare at the door as she shuts it. What just happened? You hear them chattering happily in the kitchen, idly talking about pregaming your shopping trip.

Your whole mind is a mess, and you sluggishly get ready, thoughts whirling. You've barely talked to soul since you were kidnapped, and now you have five new names to remember, a kitten, and a day out.

You're not exactly sure if you should be unsettled or grateful at how quickly Jason worked to get you what you asked for. By the time you've opened your bedroom door, Krystal, Destini and Robbi are passing around a flask, and playfully trying to get your 'bodyguards' to drink it.

You wonder what they must think of all this. Who they think you are. You're struck with the realization that Jason must be paying them to entertain you today.

You don't get to linger on the thought before Robbi hooked his arm with yours, dragging you towards the door, "Let's gooo, the brunch place we're going to does the best pineapple mimosas. Or cherry, if that's your thing."

"Wait," Mack– or John, you're not exactly sure which one is which– stops you, "Boss wants you to wear this."

The girls and Robbi coo in awe when Mack opens a box, revealing a glittery, jaw-dropping choker. You waver at the sight of it. It's not that it doesn't match what you're wearing. You'd dressed up like Destini suggested, but it feels like some kind of trap.

You reluctantly pick up the necklace, eyeing how it catches the light, "Is it– are sure it's safe to wear this out?" Safety isn't really what you're concerned about at the moment.

You're more worried about the crushing weight that this means more than you understand.

John nods once, "There won't be any problems."

Krystal happily plucks the necklace from your fingers, and before you have time to argue, she drapes the necklace around your throat. "It's beautiful, hun. Just like you. Let's go get you something to eat," her voice is soft, measured, and full of so much understanding it makes you want to cry.

You don't know much they know, but when she hooks her arm with yours to guide you out the door, you have a feeling there's more awareness than their bubbly attitudes let on.

The day ends up being wonderful. Being around people, out under the sun (the sun Gotham does get), was rejuvenating. You had fun, joked, smiled, and for a day, it was almost like you didn't have a prison cell to go back to.

The food was delicious, the spa relaxing, and you didn't have to carry back a single bag. Krystal had flashed a black card at every payment, every place ever could want to shop at, reassuring you it's all been taken care of.

But the time you've collapsed on the couch, exhausted but content, the uneasy feelings from this morning are gone.

You settle on the cushions to wait for Jason. To thank him for listening or to yell at him for still keeping you here, you're not exactly sure yet.

But he doesn't come, you fall asleep in your expensive necklace and pretty clothes with one hand petting your kitten. He doesn't come the next day either, at least not while you're awake, but Krystal, Destini, and Robbi do.

Your friends, the people being paid to entertain you are nice, perfect even. They're exactly what you would have asked for.

Your kitten is perfect too, it cuddles with you at night and nuzzles under your chin after you're left alone, when the unease finds its way back to you.

It's been days since you've seen him. It's starting to feel like a lifetime. You know he comes back after you fall asleep, he moves things. You think it's his way of showing that he listened, that he came back because you asked.

The notepad, the one you haven't written on since that night, shifts closer to you on the glass table if you sleep on the couch.

The glimmering choker gets pulled out of the drawer every time you try to put it away. Your kitten has a growing collection of toys and things to climb on.

It's obvious he's visiting, so why won't he let you see him? Day five of dancing around each other breaks you. You want to see him, want to talk to him, and understand. You want Jason.

Your hand shakes a little, when you go to write on the notepad, and when you wake up the next morning, the paper is blank again.

You wait. You wait some more. All day you wait for him. No one else comes. It's strangely quiet, with just you and your kitten. You've just about given up, collapsed in your bed, when the glowing whites of his helmet catch your attention.

You sit up quickly and throw your legs off the bed as you stare into the doorway, "You came."

"Did you mean it," he asks, any emotion he's feeling hidden by the aggravating modulator.

"Mean what," You question, standing off the bed to walk closer to him, "Will you take the mask off?"

He doesn't move for a moment, just takes in the sight of you. The silence that drags almost makes you regret the question, but he carefully pulls off his helmet, "What you wrote. That you wanted me."

"I– yeah, Jason. I haven't– it's been days since I saw you," You only notice mid sentence that his hand is reaching for your face, it makes your voice waver. "You never answered any of my questions," You finish weakly.

His hand stills and he drops it, "Questions. That's what you wanted?"

You nod a little, searching his face for any hint of what he's feeling, but he gives nothing away.

He sighs softly, and looks away, adjusting his helmet under his arm. You think he might look disappointed, "I can't give you the answers you're looking for."

"Why not," You question softly, worried to push him away.

Jason turns his focus back to you, "I just need you to stay here. Please," he sighs out your name, and his hand twitches as if to touch you, "Don't fight me on this."

"That's not fair," You mumble, "Why am I here, Jason? You know I would have listened if you came to talk to me instead of– this."

Silence falls again, and he steps past you into your room. He sets his helmet on your dresser and picks up the choker resting on the wooden surface, "I wish you would wear this. I picked it out for you."

"Jason," You start, tracking his movements.

"I know," he cuts you off, "but I told you, you don't need to understand anything." You stiffen when he steps back towards you and guides you to turn around.

The air leaves your lungs as his gloves brush over your skin. He sets the necklace around your throat, and even after it rests heavy against your skin, his touch lingers.

"You just need to stay here. It's safe. I've given you everything you've asked for, and everything you haven't," Jason says softly, stepping out from behind you. His gaze lingers on your neck for a moment, and the stifling, unexplainable feeling sets back into your gut.

Your words stick in your throat. There's a sense of danger, one that doesn't make sense. Jason wouldn't hurt you. Not the Jason you know. But is this the Jason you know? The thought makes you want to tear the choker from your skin and throw it at him.

"It feels like a collar," You say quietly, and your breath hitches when his gaze snaps go yours, "I mean, it's pretty. Really. But, it feels– like it's more," You stumble out.

He nods slowly, and he doesn't stop himself from touching you this time. His fingers trace the choker, linger over your collarbones, brush along your pulse, "Maybe it is."

You blink at him, every thought flying from your brain, "What?"

He hums softly, hooking a finger under the shiny jewels to draw you closer, "Does that scare you? Knowing that you can't leave? Knowing that no matter how pretty these are, it's just another way to keep you?"

"You wouldn't hurt me," you say instead, it sounds like you believe it, but you're not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

"I don't want to," He admits, fingers leaving your throat to trail up your jaw, "but I probably could."

"I don't believe that. I remember–" He tuts, tapping your cheek. Your heart drops when you realize he's mirroring where his own brand is.

"I'm not what you remember," he says firmly, before whispering your name, "I'm not that Jason. Not really."

"Then who are you," You ask, even though you don't want to know the answer. You want to pretend he's still something you know.

His eyes dart over your face, then back down to the necklace, "I'm still Jason. But I'm also the Arkham Knight."

"What does that mean," You push, reach up to grab his wrist, demanding his attention, demanding real answers.

"It means that you stay. It means that I give you what you want. Everything and anything except leaving," he says, voice lowering to something kinder, gentler, "it'll make sense eventually. You'll be happy here. Safe."

"Will that make you happy?" You ask, fingers tightening on his wrist. Half of you wants to pull him away, stop him from tracing patterns over your cheek, but the other part of you wants to press his hand closer.

Something flicks in his eyes at your words, "Yes."

"Will it keep you safe?" You murmur, eyes locked on his.

He doesn't answer, clenching and unclenching his jaw for a moment, "Safety is an option I don't have."

"It could be, if you wanted it," You say, dropping his wrist. It must be true. Even with all the secrets he's keeping, his evasive disappearing act, he could take off the armor. Leave behind the new symbol engraved over his chest.

He laughs a little and swipes his thumb under your eye, "I'm glad that you don't understand. It's good, that they didn't twist you into something unrecognizable."

"Understand?" You prompt, unsettled by his laughter.

"That they need to pay. All of them do," he smiles a little, it's a mockery of the one you remember. Jason traces the choker one last time before stepping back.

"You're leaving," You say, not a question, a statement of fact. He's leaving, without explaining anything again.

"I am," he affirms, moving to grab his helmet.

"I want you to stay," You breathe out and he freezes in place.

He exhales softly and faces you again, "You don't know what you're asking."

"I do. I want you to stay," You repeat, reaching out to push his helmet back towards the dresser.

"And then what?" He asks lowly, a warning, "What do you expect to happen?"

It makes you waver, "I– I don't know. But it's what I want."

It's another long moment of nothing before he answers, gesturing towards the bed, "Go to sleep."

"You'll stay?"

He nods at your question, unceremoniously dragging the chair from your desk to your bedside.

"Is that going to be comfortable–" You begin, settling yourself in the bed.

"You're overthinking it," he mumbles, waving at you to lay down. You do, watching as your kitten jumps into his lap, curling up like this is something that happens all the time. (You have the feeling it is) "Have you named him," he asks quietly.

"The kitten? Mm, no. Wanted you to," You say softly, carefully not to unsettle either of them.

"I wouldn't be good at it," Jason protests, eyes flicking between you and the kitten.

"I don't mind," You murmur, "anything's better than 'kitten'."

He pauses, so quiet and still you think he won't answer, "Bean," he mumbles, reluctant as the newly appointed Bean cuddles into his armor.

You smile, "Bean's a good name."

He doesn't answer, seemingly engrossed with watching the kitten.

You take him in for another moment, memorizing his face before closing your eyes. It's not an accident that you leave your palm open and face up by the side of the bed.

There's no more pleasantries exchanged, no sweet goodnights or the gentle touches against your face you've grown used to. But just as you finally start to drift off, as darkness finally draws you to rest, a warm, rough hand weaves itself into yours and squeezes.

Part Three

#arkham knight x reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you

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meowdei · 1 year ago

Text

lipstick stains ft. aventurine

there’s a lot you don’t know about the man you love. but the one thing you do know is that he’s really, really pretty when he’s under you, covered in your smeared lipstick

contains: 3.0k word count ; explicit content—not suitable for minors ; female reader ; reader wears lipstick ; established relationship but takes place pre penacony (reader doesn’t know his real name yet) ; reader sits on aventurine’s lap ; brief handjob ; vaginal sex (protected) ; riding ; not much prep tbh ; no spoilers for penacony quest, but a very slight hint towards it

you think the only victory aventurine wouldn’t have to take a gamble on is being the prettiest.

sure, it’s a bit biased to think that, of all people, your lover is amongst the most beautiful—but anyone would have to admit he cleans up rather well, regardless of their opinion on the less than surface level things about him. expensive clothes, fragrant cologne, neatly trimmed hair…the list goes on, truly never ending.

but the real charmer? the part that really draws you in is that lazy, smug little grin he spreads so effortlessly along his lips. but then again, he happens to spread other things too that also draw you in, things like those slender thighs of his as he sits on a plush red couch and eyes you up and down, watching as you walk over.

“you wanted to see me?” you bat your lashes at him even though you know exactly why you’re here. it’s the principle of things, you tell yourself.

you’ve watched his eyes find you all night, grazing over your figure every chance he gets between games of poker, hungry, eager, impatient. he doesn’t have to tell you to follow him when he eventually gets up, glancing at you before walking to a private room. it can’t be cheap, getting a room like this to himself in such a lavish place. but then again, you don’t think he ever truly has to worry about affording much of anything.

“when don’t i want to see you?” he replies smoothly. he talks in a low, flirtatious drawl—charming as his smile are also his words, laced with sugary sweetness that you wouldn’t recognize the lethalness of until it’s too late.

maybe if you were someone else, you’d think twice about him—you’ve seen with your own two eyes how he works. cunning, clever, lucky: they’re all what make him so good at getting what he wants before he makes his exit, walking away with his prize without a second glance.

but you’re not anyone else. in fact, you’re not like anyone else at all.

“are you done testing your luck for the night?” you tease, raising a brow as he toys with a chip between his fingers. he grins wider, leaning back as he chuckles.

“not entirely,” he murmurs lowly, voice a quiet rumble.

there’s a sliver of skin that shows through the window on his shirt, just perfectly placed along the middle of his chest. you can make out the lean muscle of his pecs, begging for your fingers to run along the smooth slope of his skin.

“oh?” you fight back a wide, cheek-straining smile. “and what other prizes did you have your eye on tonight?”

“well, you see…” he trails off, gesturing at the empty room he’s rented out (it’s just for you. you know that, but you don’t point it out). “i spent a good fortune on getting this room to myself tonight. it sure would be nice if someone joined me.”

you take the words as an invitation, settling on his lap as his hands find purchase of your hips. “just someone?” you pout, “not anyone in particular? anyone special?”

“oh, is that what you want?” his thumbs move up under your top, rubbing circles into your skin. it’s dizzying, his touch, even through a glove—it’s intoxicating. “you want special treatment?”

“is that so much to ask for?” you ask innocently.

there’s a familiar bulge pressing against your thigh as you wrap your arms around his neck. it doesn’t take much to work him up, just a few words dripping with nectar to draw him in before he’s plucking the petals one by one. if aventurine is good at one thing, it’s making sure you know you’re wanted.

why else would you be sitting in an expensive room all alone? perfectly sat on top of a searing, throbbing erection before you’ve even done anything?

and it’s only fair you show him you want him too, so your lips make quick work to find his neck, pressing soft kisses along the skin, planting a lipstick stain right over his branding to hide it behind being yours. he makes a soft noise, right from his chest that you can feel vibrate under your palms as they drag along the expanse.

“eager?” he asks, breathy and almost impatient, teasing you like he’s not just as excited as you are. like he’s not hard and aching right underneath you before you’ve so much as properly kissed him.

“i don’t know, you tell me,” you stare at him amused. your hips roll just enough to graze his cock through his pants, making him groan softly. “feels like you’re quite excited yourself, baby.”

you don’t have a name to put with his pretty face. not a proper one at least. aventurine feels more like a title if anything, a placeholder for the sake of hiding. you don’t mind, though—you’re sure he’ll tell you in his own time. until then, you litter him with sweet names, planting them into his skin between kisses as you move from his neck to his cheek.

baby. pretty boy. sweet thing. angel.

you’ve lost track of all the things you call him. they all translate to one thing, though: yours. he throws his head back, a soft sound falling from his lips that sounds like something crossed between a whimper and a gasp.

“there’s a time limit, y’know,” he pants, “we have to return this room.”

“we’ll make it quick,” you promise, “doesn’t mean we have to rush, though.”

it feels rushed, no matter what you say. not because you’re short on time, but because you’re impatient to have him just as much as he’s impatient to have you. it’s sloppy and far from proper the way your mouth slots against his, trail of lipstick staining his skin from his neck, all the way up to his lips.

he moans against your mouth, wraps his arms tighter around you and brings you closer, impossibly closer until you’re not sure if even air can exist between you both. his lips are soft against yours, but still harshly devouring you like a man starved of everything.

somewhere along the line, between soft pecks and hungry kisses, between bruising grips and heated tugs, your pants are slipped to your ankles, and his are unbuckled enough to free his strained cock.

you admire him, the slight curve of him and the vein that decorates his length. his tip is swollen, dripping with beads of precum that you spread slowly around the head of his cock, teasingly light touch with your thumb. he twitches, biting his lips as he chokes on a soft plea for more.

“so sensitive,” you giggle, slowly stroking along his length as he grunts. there’s a droplet of sweat running along the side of his forehead, a singular rivulet that you kiss away as your lips find his temple while your hand works his cock.

he bucks into your fist, staring down between your bodies and watching the way his tip disappears and reappears with every stroke of your hand. you squeeze at the tip every time your fist drags upwards—he’s always been sensitive there, twitching in your hands as he gets closer and closer to the sweet bliss of release.

but he stops you before he can get there, hand catching your wrist with a death grip.

“s-slow down,” he stops your hand, keeping it in place as he buries his head into your chest, chest rising and falling as he pants erratically. “i’ll cum…fuck, i’ll cum.”

“that’s the point,” you kiss his hair, staring at his slumped form fondly.

“not yet,” he shakes his head, closing his eyes as your fingers thread through his sweaty hair. “it’s too soon. just a bit longer, okay?”

the sooner you’re done, the sooner he has to leave. there’s things he has to do, regretfully. task after task, the poor thing—you’re more than aware of the little choices he has no matter how high of ranks he rises to.

so you indulge him, letting his building high die down for the sake of letting him have you for a bit longer.

you tilt his jaw, kissing along the angle of it as you soothe him until his breaths aren’t as labored. there’s an embarrassingly wet pool of your slick against his pants, a stain that you don’t think he even cares about anymore as you slowly angle your hips, rubbing your dripping cunt along the length of his hard-on, pulling a shudder out of both of you as he closes his eyes and groans softly.

“no teasing,” he pleads, voice hoarse and so needy, you feel a dull ache shoot along your clit at the sound alone.

“where’s the fun in that?” you breathe.

you take a moment to stare down at him, admiring your handy work. you haven’t even fucked him yet, haven’t let him breach past the walls of your sweet cunt, and yet he’s here. lips swollen and parted, lipstick smeared along every part of him you kissed, and the beginnings of soft, pink patches of skin blooming along the parts you paid extra attention to.

you cup his cheek, smiling softly as he leans into your touch on instinct.

“condom?” you lean down and nibble his cheek as you peck it.

“in my pocket. inside…inside my jacket,” he can hardly get the words out, impatient and stuttered.

“so dirty,” you chide, reaching into the inside of his jacket, fingers dipping into his pocket as your hand grazes his warm, sturdy chest. “do you always keep one on hand? just in case you can find an opportunity to fuck me anywhere you want?”

“well, if i didn’t know any better, i’d say you look forward to this just as much as me,” he gives you a smug grin—one that quickly disappears when his mouth parts in a soft gasp as you grab his cock again.

it’s slow, almost a bit painfully teasing, the way you slowly slide the condom over his erection. but it’s so delicate, so careful, he can’t help but grab your hand after, pressing sweet, feather-light kisses along your inner wrist and down to your finger tips.

he can count on one hand how many people have touched him so softly, so considerately, like he’s a stack of cards you can’t risk toppling over.

“can i feel you? please?” he looks up at you and asks so desperately, you can’t help but grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him into another heated kiss as you finally line yourself with his throbbing cock, slowly sinking down.

it’s a stretch—there’s a familiar but welcomed sting of accommodating him as your walls hug around his length. his breath hitches as soon as his tip pushes past the wet folds of your cunt, fingers digging deep into your hip as he grounds himself and waits for you to adjust.

“like this?” you pant, “is this what you wanted?”

“yes—fuck.”

you roll your hips, slowly at first before steadily building up a quick rhythm. the rapid staccato is dizzying your own mind as you breathe harshly against his mouth, already out of breath.

pretty—he’s so, so pretty under you as his eyes flutter closed, squeezed tightly as he relishes in the sweet friction of your walls.

“you feel so good,” you praise softly, in between messy, wet kisses against his mouth, drinking in his precious whines and deep groans. “just so pretty too, my sweet boy.”

he whimpers at that—like the term of endearment adds to the burning pleasure of your walls and their every ridge dragging along his aching cock. his head is thrown back against the red cushion of the expensive couch. distantly, you think it wouldn’t be good if you got messy on such a fancy piece of furniture, but reason and logic aren’t on the forefront of your mind.

and, really, what’s to worry about when his wallet can more than take care of any such issues?

“so tight,” he gasps as you squeeze around him, letting him fill you up so deeply, you can practically feel him in your throat as you let out a strained moan. “i’ve been thinking of you all night, you know that? just…just looked so pretty.”

“you’re pretty,” you nose at his cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, making him turn his head hungrily to chase after your mouth and get a proper kiss. “you’re the pretty one, baby.”

“don’t discredit yourself now,” he chuckles, burying his head into your neck and pressing his own kisses, leaving you with his own marks as his teeth pierce and his lips suck at every patch of skin he can devour. “i think you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“i’m flattered,” you hum.

the tip of his cock nudges against the sweet, sensitive spot in the back of your walls, making you see practically white with every press. it’s hot, the mingle of breath, the searing touches, the room and temperature as your skin soaks with sweat. it’s pure filth, the way your slick coats him, forming a white ring at the base of his cock and dripping along your inner thighs.

everything is so messy—every wrinkle in your clothing, every wet kiss and lingering mark littering both of your skin, every roll of your hips and thrust of his as you feel wetness coat you between your legs.

but you’re close. so close, you can’t bring yourself to wonder if he is too. something about the noises he makes against your mouth tells you he is though, the choked moans and the breathy gasps tell you enough. and as if that wasn’t proof enough, there’s that familiar twitch of his cock inside of you that tells you he’s almost there.

you roll your hips once, twice, and then a last time before your head falls to his chest, cheek pressing against the bare skin peeking through the window of his shirt as you let him fuck up into you, thrusting his hips up and chasing his own orgasm as he works you through yours.

your walls are erratic—spasming around him harsh and tight enough that it doesn’t take much to push him over the edge himself.

“fuck, baby,” you whine, pleasure searing along every nerve ending as his cock presses all the right spots while you flutter around him. “so full…feel so full.”

“’m c-cumming,” he stutters—and he doesn’t have to wait long after he says it, either. you can feel him, every twitch of his cock as his hips roll into you in a sloppy pace. you can feel the warmth through the plastic that separates you, the hot, thick ropes of cum that spill into the condom with every little jerk of his length. “ngh—so good to me. i can’t…c-can’t get enough of you.”

he’s babbling away, praise and affection laced into every sentence he mindlessly says as his orgasm shatters through his body. you can only take it, slumped against his form, exhausted and hazed from pleasure as you let him use your cunt until he’s milked dry.

it feels like ages until finally, he slumps back, hands lazily finding the small of your back as he pulls you closer to his chest. you prop your chin against it, looking up at his tired face and sweaty locks as they cling to his forehead.

“how was that for a final prize tonight?” you wiggle your brows, making him let out a soft chuckle, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“i’d say that was my luckiest win yet,” he grins easily, closing his eyes letting you kiss over your previous marks against his jaw.

“you can’t go back out there looking like this,” you murmur, eyeing the many, many smears of lipstick along the column of his neck, the angle of his jaw, the plush of his cheeks and especially the swell of his lips. “that won’t look very good for the ipc, now will it?”

he almost looks like he’s proud to wear them, like a badge of honor, proof that he of all people has won your affections. in fact, you think if you hadn’t mentioned cleaning them up at all, he’d have half a mind to walk out of this room just like this, disheveled appearance and all. it would certainly be the first time anyone but you would see him in such a state.

you don’t think you’re prepared to share such a sight.

“and get rid of all your adoring passion?” he pouts dramatically, earning him a peck from you to his jutted lips. “what kind of man would that make me?”

“a wise one,” you snort, giving him a pointed look. “one who values decorum instead of being shameless.”

“but i bought it just for you to use,” he insists, “and i’d say you certainly used it quite well.”

“come back to me soon,” you murmur against the shell of his ear, breath teasing his skin and making him shiver as your finger trails along his chest and stops at the window, tracing hearts into the bare skin, “and i’ll use it again. maybe somewhere else, too.”

“what an enticing offer,” he chuckles, tightening the grip of his arms around your waist, “i’ll be sure to take care of business as soon as i can, in that case.”

“where to next?” you ask softly, gently raking your nails soothingly over the nape of his neck.

this is the hard part—the part where you don’t kiss him in indulgence, but rather, in parting. you’d rather kiss him senseless than kiss him goodbye, but the options are far too limited for you to get a say.

“penacony,” he whispers.

“penacony,” you repeat thoughtfully, “and you’ll come back to me quick, right?”

you trail your fingers up to tangle in his hair. he closes his eyes, relishing in your touch as he swallows thickly. “of course,” he says, voice as smooth of a rumble as ever, “be sure to wear that lipstick again for me, hm?”

this got a bit out of hand lols. i meant for it to be a bit shorter but what can you do when you’re on your period and you won your 50/50 and your blonde love of your life is finally home

#meowdei.writing #meowdei.longfics #aventurine x reader #kakavasha x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x you #kakavasha x you #hsr x you #honkai star rail x you #aventurine smut #kakavasha smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut

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gurugirl · 1 year ago

Text

2. The Unicorn | nanny!yn

Unicorn: An individual who is willing to join an existing romantic relationship. Usually a bisexual female.

Summary: The night has arrived and things are going really well for all three of you until suddenly they're not.

A/N: This will be 3 parts. Based on this and this.

Word Count: 10k+

Warning: 18+ only, smut, jealousy, angst, hurt feelings, daddy kink

The Unicorn Masterlist

When you left, Harry walked back inside his house feeling like a new man. He felt real. He felt strong and virile. He didn’t know what had come over him being so direct with you. So rapacious. But it felt natural. It was like something about you brought it out of him.

It wasn’t until he was sitting at the table with the boys eating dinner that any little inkling of guilt started to wash over him. It was then he realized he hadn’t even thought about Kit since he started making dinner. He was conjuring up images in his mind of what you would look like on Saturday in various positions. Imagined the way your eyes would widen and then squeeze close when you orgasmed. Wondered how many he could coax out of you. He’d completely blocked out that his wife would be participating.

He would need to tame himself. See how Kit responded to seeing you and him together. If she enjoyed it he could loosen up a little but he was concerned about the way you two clicked. Your dynamic was very good, Harry thought, that he would have a hard time sharing you. Plus, he wasn’t sure whether or not Kit would like to hear you calling him Daddy. And Harry really wanted to hear you call him Daddy again.

When his wife got home the twins were already in bed and Harry was in the master bedroom reading, “So how did it go?” She asked him as she plucked her heels off, placing her palm on their dresser to balance herself.

“It was good. Why don’t you get ready for bed and then we can talk about everything that happened?”

Harry had decided he’d play down what had happened between you two. He’d be honest but he wouldn’t divulge some of his innermost thoughts. The parts where he forgot all about his wife and how your soft and docile demeanor was refreshing and made him feel masculine and wide awake all of a sudden. No. He wouldn’t share that much with her.

Kit turned off the ceiling light and turned on her lamp before climbing into bed with Harry, “So, tell me how it went.”

“Yeah. It was good. She was very open. She said she wanted to join us on Saturday for sure.”

Kit nodded, “And? Did you two kiss or anything?”

Harry’s heart began to lob in his chest at the idea that he was going to tell his wife what he’d done with another woman. Kit seemed fine. She insisted she was but Harry still felt unease about how to handle this situation gracefully. Without anyone getting hurt.

“Yeah, we did. Brought her into the bedroom, here so the kids didn’t see. Kissed her and then got her clothes off, fingered her,” he inhaled softly and felt his cheeks glow and his chest burn. “That was it.”

Kit grinned and slid in close to Harry, smoothing her palm under his shirt, “Yeah? I wish I could have seen it. Did she come?”

Harry puffed out a laugh of disbelief. Maybe he was fretting for nothing. Perhaps his guilt had been needless. Maybe Kit was right. Maybe this would be really good for them.

“Yes.” He looked down at where his wife’s hand was traveling.

“And did you come?”

“No. I kept all my clothes on when I was with her and then when she left I had to get dinner for the boys and I was with them until I finally got into bed a bit ago.”

Kit palmed over his crotch, “You poor man. You did so good for me today, baby.” She kissed his lips, “You deserve a treat.”

Harry sighed as his wife put her hand into his night pants and began to pump his cock slowly. Closing his eyes with a smile he realized he probably had nothing to worry about.

. . .

You were a mess. You couldn’t sleep in the way that was necessary to function properly the next day. You kept going from squealing into your pillow like a 16-year-old after your crush admitted to liking you too, to feeling overwhelming anxiety about what was to come. Kit was an unknown in the equation. For many reasons.

The first was that you’d never been intimate with a woman even though you crushed on women for longer than you had men. The second was that you were worried that now that you’d called Harry Daddy and knew how much he liked it, even if Kit didn’t like that it would be hard for you to turn that off. The third thing was that you weren’t sure you’d want to see Harry kissing anyone else or watch him preferring his wife over you, because he would. Because Kit was so much prettier than you and she was his wife, the mother of his children. You were certain that you’d wind up kind of being the third wheel.

But maybe you had it all wrong. Maybe you’d love being with Kit and things would just be fun. But your rabbit hole Google search wound up landing you on a subreddit all about this kind of thing and did not leave you with confidence about what was to come. So many horror stories about “unicorn hunters” finding their “unicorn” and the ways threesomes can end a marriage.

But you said yes. And you intended to follow through. They both really seemed to want it. And you trusted them. Perhaps your experience would be among the rare ones that worked out for the better.

The rest of the week felt like you were slowly entering into a new realm of existence. Dramatic way to put it but that’s just how it felt. Things would change for you. Not only would you be having your first sexual encounter with a woman, but you’d also be having a threesome. You’d be in the middle of a married couple and that was not a situation you thought you’d ever get into.

But also, you were very aware that Harry was planning on fucking you. In front of his wife. And you couldn’t imagine that going well. Of course, you forced your fantasy to make it positive but there was something that was telling you that it wouldn’t be. You hoped you were just nervous for nothing.

On Friday before you left Mr. and Mrs. Styles’ home, William and Warren were told to get their suitcases ready for grandma and grandpa to pick them up the following morning.

Kit helped you put your bag on your shoulder, as she spoke, “We’re really excited about tomorrow. I hope you are too, Y/n.”

You smiled as you turned to look at her, “I am. A little nervous, I’ll admit.”

You were more than a little nervous.

“That’s okay. We are too. We’ll talk about everything tomorrow and go from there.”

Harry walked into the living room with you and Kit and there was just something different about him following that night he had you in his bed. It made you squirmy and intimidated. His eyes had always been intense but now they felt more severe. Daunting.

“So, tomorrow at 3 then?” He asked you as he raised his brows.

You nodded, “Yeah. I’ll be here.”

And from the moment you drove away from the Styles’ house until you knocked on their front door the following afternoon, you couldn’t get yourself to calm down or think about anything else.

You paced and talked out loud to yourself. You set up scenarios in your head and acted them all out, some of them turning you on quite a lot, you couldn’t lie. You practiced how you’d respond in certain situations. You took a long bath with salts and essential oils and got rid of as much hair as possible from your body so you’d be extra smooth.

You played your music loudly. You masturbated thinking about the way Harry fingered you. You picked the perfect outfit and panties. And you tried to sleep. But that was nearly impossible.

When you did finally wake up it was already noon. You’d slept in. Which shouldn’t have surprised you because you couldn’t get to sleep the night before. You jolted up from your bed and panicked as you ran into the bathroom to get the shower going. You couldn’t believe it was happening. You wondered what Harry and Kit were doing to prepare. Were they freaking out like you were? They both said they’d never done anything like this so they had to be at least a little nervous about everything.

Your soft pink lace bra and panties were your favorites. You didn’t wear them all the time but it felt like the appropriate affair to break them out.

At about 2 pm you received a text from Kit.

If you’d like, you can stay the night. We would be happy to have you all night.

That, you hadn’t expected. You had envisioned it being along the lines of you and the Styles getting finished up and then using their bathroom before an awkward goodbye and See you Monday (you really had thought of every scenario already).

But to stay the night? Would you sleep in their bed with them? Or would they offer you their guest room? Or the couch? You couldn’t imagine sleeping next to them all night. Of course, maybe that would be nice? You really didn’t know. It was hard to think with a clear brain when Harry was involved. The whole situation was wacky but the opportunity to be allowed to sleep with Harry and his pretty wife and have everything be just fine after (hypothetically) was simply not something you’d want to say no to.

. . .

Harry was nervous. He was trying to reign in his thoughts and his doubts. He didn’t want Kit to know how deep his worries ran. Because she seemed excited. She seemed far calmer than he felt.

He forced himself to eat breakfast and a light lunch so she didn’t question it. He didn’t know how things would play out once you arrived. And he tried not to imagine all the salacious things he’d been thinking about you in his private time.

When you’d finally arrived with your bag in hand and knots in your tummy Harry took deep breaths as Kit answered the door and hugged you in greeting.

“I hope you’re hungry! I’m making salmon and parmesan risotto.It’s my specialty and I think you’ll like it.” Kit led you to the kitchen where her husband stood and the moment he laid his eyes on you the smallest something ignited in him. It was only a spec of something but it was as if a layer of worry was wiped away instantly. Just seeing your pretty smile with your bag in hand had his mind swirling with thoughts of what might come. He realized part of him didn’t think you’d actually show up. But you did.

He tried leaning on Kit’s poise and mimicking her excited demeanor. On the way she seemed so calm but confident. That’s how it should have been for him. But the bigger parts of worry in him stemmed from the fact that his more dominant natural inclination was starting to peek through the cracks slowly. He’d even initiated something with Kit the night before, which she quickly shot down. He knew his wife was not one for being submissive. Or at least letting him take the reigns fully. But he knew Y/n would want it.

And worse yet, he hadn’t asked Kit if she’d mind if you called him Daddy. That was weighing heavy on him. He knew he should have talked to her about it days prior but there was part of him that worried she wouldn’t like that. He wasn’t sure how it would be brought up at that point but it would come out sooner or later he was positive. Especially with the way you seemed to love saying it.

“This looks so good, thank you, Mrs. Styles,” you smiled softly and looked from Harry to Kit and then back to the steaming pot ofrisotto. You weren’t sure you’d be able to eat much but you’d force something down. Your mind was jumbled and you felt tense.

But of course, this was something new for all of you. You’d all be going through this together and so you probably didn’t have much to worry about.

Harry took your little bag from your hand and his bright green eyes on you felt hot, “I’ll take this upstairs unless you need anything from it right now?”

You shook your head, “I don’t need it. Thank you, Mr. Styles.”

You had wanted to ask Harry what his wife thought about the whole Daddy thing but you hadn’t had the chance the rest of the week and even if you had you wouldn’t have been able to get the nerve up to ask.

“So, what are you thinking? What things are you into?” Kit asked as she handed you a glass of wine.

You leaned your hip into the counter and shrugged, “I don’t know. I think I like it when other people take the lead. I’m sort of, maybe a little submissive,” you laughed softly as you brought your glass up to your lips and looked at Kit. It was the first time you’d really taken her in since you’d arrived. She was wearing a pretty black lacey dress that fit her gorgeous body like it was made for her. Black heels, a smoothed back, high ponytail. Bright red lips, perfectly done eyeliner. Her cheekbones made you envious. You’d always noticed her cheekbones in the past. As well as Harry’s. Imagined they were made for one another. Two exquisitely stunning people.

Kit leaned against the counter next to you, her body turned toward yours, “That’s perfect for Harry and me. We’re both a bit dominant,” she sipped her glass and you watched her eyes trail down over your neck. You’d put on a pretty choker. Light pink small pearls to go with your sexy (you hoped) pink lacey underwear. Over it, you wore a lightweight cream sweater that was almost sheer with a short white skirt with a print of pink and yellow butterflies all over it. You felt underdressed compared to Kit. She looked like an adult and you looked like a child.

When Harry returned to the kitchen he poured himself a glass and looked at you and then to his wife, “What’d I miss?”

“Just asked Y/n what she likes. She’s going to let us take the lead. And look at his, H,” she gently put a slender finger under your pearl choker, “she’s perfect. I told you.”

Harry’s gaze felt so heavy on you. It felt like he was dissecting you with his eyes, “I think we’ll have a lot of fun together.”

A safe choice of words.

Dinner was quite delicious. Though you weren’t really that hungry, the wine you drank helped you feel a bit more comfortable, and sitting and chatting about normal things with Kit and Harry felt really good.

You helped clean up. Harry had put on some music and you were feeling loose from the wine so you were swaying the tiniest bit with the beat. When you felt hands at your hips you turned and it was Kit, swaying with you. She leaned her chin over your shoulder and spoke into your ear, “Leave the dishes. Those can wait. I think it’s time to get comfortable and talk. Come,” she pulled at you and you suddenly weren’t feeling as loose at the notion of talking.

Ground rules. Expectations. It was all necessary stuff.

You followed her into the living room where Harry was already sitting on the couch at one side. He gestured for you to sit next to him and Kit sat down on the opposite side, putting you in the middle.

The music was still playing as Kit turned toward you and put her arm up on the back of the couch, “Tell us your concerns. What things you absolutely do not like.”

You looked down at the coffee table where all three glasses of wine were sat and took a deep breath, “My concerns… I’m worried someone won’t like this after we start. Like,” you looked at Kit, “maybe you realize you don’t want anyone touching Harry. Or even if Harry doesn’t like to see you with anyone else? I just don’t want anyone to feel upset.”

Kit nodded, “A good point. I feel the same. I think we all do. We won’t know until we get into it but I think if there is anything anyone doesn’t like we need to be able to speak up about it. Agreed?”

You nodded, unsure if they wanted you to continue. That was the biggest concern of yours, sort of. You were worried about calling Harry Daddy when things got going. You were worried you would feel left out, which wasn’t fair of you to feel that way. Kit and Harry were married, after all. They’d certainly be paying the most attention to each other.

“Anything else? What things do you not like at all? What is a hard no for you?”

Harry had been quite silent since you all had sat down. But you were feeling heat pouring off of him. And you could tell he had his eyes on you.

“I mean… maybe if I think of some I’ll tell you? I haven’t done much, to be honest. Nothing stands out in my mind.”

“Do you like to be spanked? Or maybe restrained?” Kit raised her brows at you.

You shrugged, “I haven’t really been spanked before. Definitely not restrained.”

“You haven’t really been spanked?” Harry finally spoke up.

You turned to look at him but found you needed to look away quickly. He was too attractive.

“Well, once a guy sort of smacked at my bottom during… Like I was on top and…” you swallowed trying to calm yourself as you saw his hand move from his lap to the space between your thigh and his on the couch, “Like it was just really quick. Just once. So I wouldn’t say spanked but… yeah.”

“And did you like it?” He asked.

You looked at him and couldn’t help but feel yourself singe with warmth, “I didn’t mind it.”

“We’ll learn as we go,” Kit added.

Harry pulled his gaze away from you to his wife when she spoke and it was the first time you noticed it. His unease. It almost seemed like he’d forced himself to look away from you. Like the way you felt when you looked at him.

Kit reiterated that she agreed with you. That there would need to be open communication. She said that she liked to be dominant or at least to have most of the control.

“And I also like to be in control. To be dominant.” Harry said as he looked at Kit and then to you, “I also wanted to see if it was comfortable for you, Kit, if Y/n calls me Daddy.”

Kit looked to the coffee table quietly in thought and then looked at you, “Do you like that? To call your sexual partner Daddy?”

Your eyes widened at the question. You hadn’t expected that you’d answer this question. But you also assumed Harry had already spoken to Kit about it.

“Uh, well. Yeah, I think so.”

“Have you ever called anyone Daddy during a sexual encounter before? Are you comfortable with that?” Kit pressed.

You shot your sight to Harry and then back to Kit. How did you answer this? He obviously hadn’t told his wife that you were calling him Daddy that night and now you didn’t know if you should reveal that you already had. And Harry had been the only one you’d ever given that moniker to.

“I mean I’d like her to, but if she’s not comfortable with it we don’t have to do it, Y/n.” Harry quickly interrupted. You knew he was doing a bit of damage control. Perhaps that little thing would just be a secret between you and Harry. You were okay with that, you figured. You didn’t want him getting into trouble with Kit.

“Yeah. That’s fine. I don’t mind. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable at all.”

“Okay. Good. I’m okay with it, I think. We’ll feel it out and see if we like it,” Kit said, seemingly unbothered.

With the music playing you felt Harry’s pinky graze your bare thigh and Kit leaned forward to grab your glass of wine and hers, handing you yours.

“You smell so good, Y/n,” she said to you with a dreamy look on her face. “Doesn’t she, Harry?”

Sipping your wine you heard his deep voice from your right as he spoke, “She smells delicious.”

The change of the song and Harry’s pinky ghosting at your thigh and Kit’s closeness with her eyes on you had you feeling excited. Your heart began to lob in your chest, faster and faster.

Kit ran her finger up your neck, “You’re so shy. I really love it. Y/n, we’re going to make sure you have fun tonight.”

She got onto her knees and reached across you to pull at Harry’s hand and drew him in for a kiss. You watched them as they wound their mouths together right in front of you. You were smushed back into the couch with your eyes on their lips and watched their tongues meld and lick and heard Kit moaning.

When they parted Harry grabbed your empty glass of wine and placed it on the coffee table before he cradled the back of your neck to pull you in for a kiss. He wanted to feel your silky lips on his and he wanted to make sure you were included in the fun too. He would see to it you weren’t left out.

Kit watched her husband kissing you, their nanny with amazement. It was the first time she’d ever gotten to enjoy this sort of thing and she already loved it.

You felt Harry’s warm and wet mouth pull away from yours as Kit took over and pressed her lips to yours. The way it felt to have her mouth on yours versus Harry’s was night and day. Kit was soft and unmistakably feminine and you moaned as you reached up to pull your arms over her shoulders. With your body turned toward Kit you felt Harry’s big palm slide up your thigh and lift your skirt just a little before his chest was pressed into your back and his lips were on your neck.

“Can I mark your neck, sweet girl,” Harry groaned into your sensitive skin as Kit’s mouth moved with yours flawlessly.

“Yes, Daddy…” you breathed out the words and hadn’t even realized you said Daddy until the name hung in the air immediately after you’d said it. But no one seemed bothered. Kit only became more fervent and you felt her hand slip under your soft sweater.

“Can I touch you? Will you give us permission to touch your body and play with you now?” Kit panted her words before dotting kisses on your cheeks.

“Oh god. Yes, you can. Anything you want.” You meant it. If they wanted to touch your naked body or see it or tear your clothes off you were already so far gone you just wanted to please them. Everything was green for you so far.

You hissed softly and felt the pinch and sting of Harry’s lips at your neck as he marked you like he wanted.

Kit’s hand slid up your tummy to your pretty bra and she squeezed your plushy tit under her palm, “Just say if you don’t want something. Fuck you have such nice breasts, Y/n…” she leaned back and lifted your sweater before dipping down to kiss over the sheer lacy fabric over your nipples and you gasped.

Harry put his hand on your neck and turned your face toward him roughly, smearing his mouth against yours with a deep moan. You opened your mouth to let his tongue inside and you felt a drizzle of arousal pool into your panties. You loved the way it felt to have his big palm on your neck and his mouth ravaging yours while Kit’s lips and tongue worked over the flimsy fabric of your bra, wetting it and making your nipples hard underneath.

He could feel your delicate pearls under his palm as he used his thumb to squeeze you gently. But when he heard your tiny whimper his cock throbbed in his pants and he pulled at you, “We need to get her upstairs in bed.”

Kit grinned and the three of you awkwardly made your way upstairs. The moment you were in their bedroom Kit had her hands at your skirt, pulling at it, “Want this off of you. Okay? He’s had the chance to see your body but I haven’t yet. I’m dying to see you.”

Harry unbuttoned his shirt as he watched his wife remove your skirt and then peel off your little sweater. He walked up behind Kit and pulled at the bottom hem of her dress to pull it off, “Need you out of this too, Kitty.”

You’d never heard him call his wife Kitty before but it made sense now that you’d heard it.

The moment you saw Kit in her tiny black thong and her amazing tits out (she was sans bra) you dropped your mouth open. Her body was insane. She had a tattoo of a flowering tree on her ribcage and another at her hip with shooting stars. It fit her perfectly.

Harry put his hands on her shoulder as he stood behind her and kissed her neck, his eyes on yours.

“My tits need some love, Y/n. Come here,” she reached for you and it was easy to enjoy the way it felt to have a soft breast in your mouth. You sucked at her nipples and lapped your tongue over her skin with your hands cupping both sides, smushing your fingers in to really feel how soft and lovely it was. You couldn’t believe you’d never done anything with a girl before. You were certainly glad Harry and Kit were so forward.

Harry moved his position from behind his wife to behind you. You hadn’t expected to feel his hands at your bum, squeezing and pulling at your cheeks before giving you a soft smack.

You jolted slightly and looked up at Kit with a laugh.

Harry pressed his hips into your bottom against your pink lacy panties and groaned, “Beautiful ass.”

Kit grasped your jaw and pulled you in for another kiss. Soft and tranquil, wet and warm. There was an easy difference in the way a woman kissed than a man and you adored it.

You felt Harry’s hand at your bottom, pulling at your panties to slide into your crack to give him access to your full bottom. The sudden warmth and wetness against your bum cheek might have startled you more if he hadn’t given you a swat just moments prior. His mouth and tongue moved over your flesh slowly until he pasted a wet kiss right over where your panties were stuffed into your bottom.

He gripped your hips and pushed his face in further, soft lips kissing along where your panties were, “Gotta get these off, okay, Y/n? As pretty as they are,” he put his fingers into the band of your lacy panties and pulled them down your ass and legs and you continued kissing Kit with a wet, desperate tongue.

But you gasped and your eyes bounced open when Harry's mouth found your pussy from behind. He pulled your cheeks and put his mouth between them, licking over your labia. You couldn’t help but to turn to look behind you as best you could to watch his dark curls from behind you.

Kit’s hands slid to the back of your bra and unhooked your clasp to get you out of your bra, “Oh shit.” She took you in and delicately moved her hands over your tits, “Gorgeous.”

Harry stood up and pulled his shirt off his shoulders and then began to take his pants down and underwear. He was too hard in his pants to keep them on. He watched as Kit pulled you to the bed. Now that you were completely naked Kit wanted to see you spread out.

You were pushed to your back and she climbed between your legs, “Can I eat you out a little, Y/n? Missed eating pussy.”

You nodded quickly as Kit smirked at you and gave you one more soft kiss to your lips.

You saw Harry come up behind her and look down at you as his wife bent over to press her lips to your cunt. He looked from Kit’s ass to your face and pulled at her g-string to move it to the side as he pressed his fingers into Kit’s entrance, “So wet already, Kitty. You don’t get wet f’me like this.”

Harry’s strong and broad shoulders, the view of his dark tattoos scattered on his chest and arms made you wish Kit wasn’t in your way so you could see him unobstructed.

Kit moaned and lapped at your clit as she looked up at you, “I just love how she feels, H. I’m so horny looking at her body.”

Harry could agree with that assessment. He was already throbbing and he hadn’t even had his cock touched yet. Not that his wife couldn’t get him worked up but having you in the mix was exciting. New.

He fucked into his wife with his thick fingers from behind her slowly and loved the way you sounded when you moaned. He reached down to grip his cock and stroke himself as he looked at your pretty face. Moving his fingers from Kit’s pussy he slid his tip up and down her crease and she lifted and looked back at him, “Yes, H… fill me with that big dick.”

“Yeah? Want this big cock, baby?” He looked at you as he asked.

You moaned when Kit wrapped her lips around your clit again and you felt her fingers thrust into your soft, wet hole.

Harry felt good plunging into Kit as always. She was familiar and welcoming. He knew exactly what to expect and exactly what she needed to get off. But this time, as familiar as Kit felt, it was so different as he thrust in and pulled back to his tip with his eyes on yours.

He began to rock into his wife and each thud into her pushed Kit into your pussy harder. Kit was bent down with her mouth on your cunt, her ass in the air at the edge of the bed while Harry stood, feet on the floor, and fucked his wife from behind. But he had a great view of your face and your tits. It almost felt like he was already fucking you with the way your eyes were locked on his.

The delicious surge of Kit’s fingers digging into your pussy and her tongue on your bud had you spinning. But it was Harry’s eyes on yours as he grunted with each roll of his hips that had you nearly at your end already.

Kit lifted and looked at you. When you felt her lips move away you quickly shot your gaze back to hers. She continued fingering you, “You gonna come for me, Y/n? Fuck!” She closed her eyes for a moment and pushed herself back onto Harry as she used her free hand to rub her clit, “God, right there, H.”

When Harry began to go in sharper, Kit placed her mouth back on your pussy and moaned at the way her husband was pounding into her. His deep thrusts were making her press into you.

He grasped Kit’s hips harshly and moaned at the view of his cock stretching his wife out and then looked back at you with your lips parted and your hands squeezing your tits together. Your neck elongated.

The sharp spike of stimulation made you cry out and you couldn’t stop the spiral in your tummy from tensing and twisting as you came. Soft wet lips on your clit and slender fingers pumping through your walls felt amazing. But when you heard Harry groan loudly as he began to come inside of Kit you opened your eyes to find his fixed on yours, mouth dropped open with deep breaths heaving from his picturesque chest.

You felt the final deep thrust as the last of his come drained from his cock into his wife as her mouth smashed into you.

You were both breathless as you came down from your orgasms. The eye contact felt intimate. You loved the way it made you feel connected to Harry and to his wife.

Harry grinned and watched as he slowly slid his cock out of Kit, pinching his fingers into her hips, “Y/n, would you like to eat my come from my wife’s pussy? How does that sound to you, sweet girl?”

You nodded and Kit lifted her face from your pussy slowly. Her own chest was heaving as she was so close to her orgasm, “I love that idea. Want to taste Harry dripping out of me, Y/n?”

You pushed yourself up by your elbows, “Yeah, how should I…?”

Kit crawled over you and pushed you down. She brought her cunt to right over your face and let a bit of Harry’s come trickle out onto your chin and your lips, “We’ll do it like this. Now eat.”

With that, she settled her pussy down onto your mouth and you closed your eyes as you sucked and tried to use your tongue the best you could. You tasted the saltiness of his come and the sharpness of Kit’s arousal mixed as you swallowed and pulled at her folds with your lips. The idea that you were getting to drink Harry’s come made you shiver in delight. You never imagined that you’d be swallowing his come down your throat.

When you felt a big, hot mouth dot kisses along the inside of your thigh and felt the grip of a big hand lifting your leg you were spurred on to lick and suck at Kit harder. You were reminded that there were three people in the room.

You felt Harry’s shoulders push against the back of your thighs and felt a deep vibration of something he mumbled against your pussy before his wide flat tongue licked upward before gently rolling your clit in his mouth, his slick muscle pressing and swirling over it.

The sensation of Harry eating you out in comparison to how Kit did it was night and day. Kit was warm and soft, precise. Harry was like a caveman starved, masculine, and messy. You could already feel the way he was smearing your arousal all around your pussylips and the crease of your thigh.

Kit began to rub at her clit as she brushed her pussy over your lips. Her essence was getting all over your face and you really kind of liked the taste. It wasn’t that different from yours, the smell and taste of it.

“Oh my god, baby, those lips,” she moaned and pinched at her nipples as she began to come.

You could feel her shaking and the way her pussy hole fluttered over your mouth, her hips jerking as she rode into your lips and bumped into your nose.

Meanwhile, Harry was moaning into your pussy and lapping at you like ice cream melting. When you felt the addition of his fingers gently poking past your slippery muscle you let out a muffled groan into Kit’s pussy.

Harry lifted your hips up further and dug in deeper. With the new angle, it felt different and you were unable to gain any leverage with your legs at all. You were totally at his mercy with any movement below the waist.

Kit lifted off and sighed, “Such a good girl, Y/n. How was that?”

You gasped and tried your best to respond while your pussy was getting wrecked with Harry’s mouth and fingers, “I like… really liked it!”

Kit softly ran a finger up your neck and to your cheekbone, “Yeah? For a first time that was good. I think we’ll need more practice but that can be arranged. Can’t it, H?”

Harry grunted and smeared his mouth against your clit. You couldn’t hear it if he responded or not but then when Kit moved away you watched as she grasped Harry’s hair and pulled him off your pussy, “Right, Harry?”

He looked dazed as he darted his eyes from his wife to you, “What?”

“Is her pussy that good that you couldn’t hear me?” Kit laughed.

You saw Harry gulp as he stood up and it was the first time you noticed the big tiger tattoo on his left thigh and the laurels on his hips. He was a piece of art, “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said we could arrange to do this again,” Kit sat back onto her haunches as she looked at her husband.

“Yeah. If Y/n wants.”

Kit looked at you and back to Harry, “So what do we think? Need a break? Are we ready to relax? We’ve all had our orgasms.”

Inwardly you pouted and wanted to throw a fit. You had come but you really really wanted to suck Harry off and have him fuck you. You wouldn’t mind eating Kit out again, but you felt you weren’t done with Harry. Needed a little more.

Harry laughed, “Ready to relax? Kitty, I’m just getting started. I kind of hoped I’d be able to have you choking on my cock or something,” his cocky grin beamed at his wife.

“Choke on your cock? Maybe I’ll let you choke on my dildo. You know I don’t do that. If Y/n wants to she’s welcome to it.”

You sat up and looked from Harry to his wife as they discussed what would come next. Harry looked you up and down like you were going to be an indulgent meal, “Want my dick in your mouth, sweet girl?” Harry gripped his shaft and slowly slid his hand up and down. He was only half-hard. He needed a minute to get back to full mast after his orgasm.

“Yes. I would really like that, Harry.” You looked from Harry to Kit to make sure everyone was on board.

“I think you mean Daddy. Right?” Harry’s stern voice had you sitting up straight.

“Yes, Daddy. I want it.”

Kit softly moaned, “She’s such a sweet girl, Harry. Enjoy your blowie. Mind if I get some water? I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

Harry kept his eyes on you, “Go on. We’ll be fine. Right, Y/n?”

You nodded, “Yes, Daddy.”

Kit paused and looked from you to her husband but then shook off the tiny alarm going off in her head before leaving you two alone.

“Get down here. On your knees. I’ll take it easy on you.”

You climbed off the bed and got to your knees. Harry pumped his dick right over your face and reached down with his free hand to grasp your neck to pull at you, making you sit up further, “Your pearls are so sweet. Did you dress up just for, Daddy?”

“I did. Wanted to be cute for you.” You smiled at him with wide eyes.

“Cutest thing I’ve ever seen, Y/n. Now, get it all wet. Lick all around. I want to get nice and hard for your throat. And maybe if Kitty doesn’t mind, she’ll let me fuck you. Would you like that?”

Your heart pounded as you looked up at Harry and nodded, “Yes, Daddy. Really want to feel you.”

You began to tongue along Harry's long shaft. From the base where he had trimmed dark hair to his tip. You plopped your lips around his crown and gently sucked, making him hiss before you dragged your tongue down to his base and back up again to wet every inch of his girth. You were amazed at the sounds coming from him. Soft and whimpery. You lowered your mouth to his sack and smoothed your tongue and lips along the skin before opening wide and pulling half into your mouth.

“Fucking angel. Shit, I love that.”

You noted his reaction to your mouth on his balls. To save for another day.

When you drew your tongue upward again, along his length you felt him plump. His cock grew harder and harder until he was rigid and completely ready for fucking again.

“Now suck on it,” he pressed the back of your head to urge you down over him.

You wrapped your lips around his head, saliva pooling at your tongue and dripping down his cock as you slowly began to take him in your mouth. Deeper and deeper. He was thick, though and you were concerned your mouth wasn’t big enough or that your teeth would graze his skin. But you pressed on, doing your very best.

He kept his hand at the back of your head and helped gently guide you down, “Come on. You can get a little more in there, baby. Fucking so good with that mouth.”

You felt his tip nudging at the roof of your mouth and slip in close to your tonsils and you gurgled, swallowing around his tip and making him choke out a loud moan.

You did it again, loving the way he responded and you felt him slip in deeper, yet you still hadn’t gotten him all in. He was likely a bit too long for you to take him all. You’d need practice.

The sound of you gagging wetly and Harry groaning filled the room as your eyes watered.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n!” Harry watched your lips as they parted around his cock, drooling down your chin.

You could hear Kit when she came back. She’d said something but you were so fixated on Harry’s cock and making him feel good that your brain was fuzzy and out of focus. The only thing that mattered was making Harry feel good and you couldn’t care about anything else.

The grip he had on the back of your head and the way his hips were moving felt like he was enjoying you as you wetly spluttered on his cock as it grazed the back of your throat.

When Harry pulled you off you sat back and looked up at him expectantly. Harry kept his eyes on you. He looked like he was proud of you as he spoke, “Kitty? Can I fuck this sweet thing? Want to feel to her around my cock.”

You watched Harry as Kit answered, “Okay. I think that sounds hot. Just use a condom, though. Is that okay with you, Y/n?”

You nodded, still focused on Harry, “Yes.”

Kit led you to the bed to lie on your back and kissed you softly, “I’ll play with you a little and probably kiss Harry too while he’s fucking you. Is that okay?”

You finally looked at Kit, breaking the spell you were under with Harry, “That’s fine. Yeah.” You nodded.

“And if we do this again maybe I can wear a strap-on and fuck you too.” Kit raised her brows.

You nodded and smiled. Harry was busy putting a condom on as he listened to his wife talking to you. He hated to admit it to himself, but he loved it when Kit stepped out of the room for a bit. He felt freer to express himself with her gone. Was less worried about sounding like he was preferring Y/n to her.

But he wondered if once he got his cock inside of you how he’d feel. Would he be able to overcome the way he wanted to just dominate you and claim you for himself? It was a slippery slope what was happening but he was freefalling into his dominant persona with you and it felt odd having his wife watch it all. He hoped he didn’t get too into it and lose track of what was really happening.

Harry crawled onto the bed between your legs and thumbed at your clit as he watched Kit kiss you. He wanted to kiss you. Wanted to start off nicely with a warm kiss and push into you that way. So he waited while his wife groped your tits and licked into your mouth.

You reached down to Harry’s hand, where his thumb was at your bud and you bucked your hips upward. He had the most gorgeous view of your wet pussy, just waiting and ready to stretch open for his cock.

When Kit finally pulled her mouth away Harry leaned over you, “I’m gonna kiss her for a bit, Kit. If you don’t mind,” and then he pasted his mouth against yours and lined his cock up with your entrance.

When you felt him push past your tight muscle you could have cried. He was wide and long and you were so wet and he began to thrust in and slowly, his mouth devouring yours. He went in with long strokes, sinking in until he couldn’t push in any further. His muscles working into you, thighs and bottom and back flexing and indulging.

Harry lifted his face from yours to look down at you, cupping your jaw, “You doing okay?”

Your mouth was wide open as you nodded, “So good, Daddy.”

Harry cooed at you as he began to fuck into you harder, making your tits wobble with the force.

Kit leaned over you and began to kiss you again but you could hardly kiss back with the way your pussy was being pounded into and the sound of Harry’s groans were all you could focus on. He liked your pussy, you could tell. And that had your heart singing and your body buzzing.

He loved how your pussy looked wrapped around his cock, tight and juicy as he pushed in and brought himself back to the tip before ramming into you again. He wanted Kit out of the way so he could see your face but he knew he couldn’t ask her to move. She was going to be part of this.

But when he dipped in especially deep, the puffy head of his cock nudging into your cervix and hitting your g-spot with each stroke you gasped and moaned loudly, making Kit move back.

“Daddy!” You howled as Harry panted and repeated what he’d just done. You squealed and threw your head back. It felt so good. He was pushing into your guts and breathing heavily over you.

Harry was glad he’d already come so he could last a bit longer with you. He wanted to drag it out. Really get to fuck you properly and feel you. It was lush being inside of you and hearing your pretty voice respond to him.

“Like Daddy’s cock, baby?” He spoke between gritted teeth as he pushed your thighs into your chest and leaned over you, nearly folding you in half so Kit couldn’t interrupt again. He was getting hot and dizzy for you. Wanted you all to himself.

“It’s the best! Oh fuck!! I love it. I want it… oooh! Need you so bad, Daddy!” You weren’t really sure what words came from your mouth as he pushed into you at the new angle, but all you knew was that your entire world was Harry. Harry… Harry… Harry… He was on you and in and he liked it. You were making him feel good.

“Need me, baby? Need this cock inside your little pussy?”

Harry’s balls were aching as he nudged into you, his sac pressed into your bum each time he bottomed out.

“Yes…” your voice was shaky and breathy as he railed you into the mattress.

Harry let go of your legs to lean over you and press his mouth against yours once again. Wet and hard, teeth scraping and moans of debauchery.

“Need you too, baby. Needed this fucking pussy. You gonna let Daddy own this pussy, baby?”

“Oh god, yes Daddy! This pussy is yours!” You whined.

Kit was at the edge of the bed watching the spectacle and she was quite turned on by the scene. She gently rubbed her pussy as she watched her husband railing you but the words spoken between you and Harry had her feeling a bit weird. She knew she should call a time out but she wasn’t sure if that was a good idea. You were in throws of passion, she tried to reason.

“Holy shit, Y/n!” Harry moaned as he felt you begin to squeeze around him. His pelvis rubbed into your clit and the little sparkles of your orgasm started to grow and grow with each yummy thrust into your clenching walls. His cock spread you wide and his pelvis smeared into your bud as if his body was made for you. The angle was exquisite. Harry thought so too.

“Coming on Daddy’s cock, Y/n? Fucking creaming all over me baby.” He let his strokes go long and deep and languid as he hovered over you, his arms and back flexing as he rolled into you.

You were stunned and unable to speak for moments on end. Your vision went blank and your ears fuzzed out with a ringing white noise that blocked all sound.

Harry moaned a laugh at how hard you were coming, “Feels good doesn’t it baby? Cock is made for you…” his deep thick voice gave away that he was about to come. Kit recognized it.

“Don’t come inside of her. Even with a condom,” Kit sat up and watched closely as you finally gasped and cried out. For some reason the idea of her husband coming, even if inside a condom, while balls deep in another woman didn’t feel right.

Harry groaned and closed his eyes. He wished he would have known before but of course, Kit hadn’t even been sure that was something she didn’t want.

He kept working into you, letting you ride out your orgasm as you moaned and babbled Daddy, yes Daddy over and over again.

When your eyes finally peeled open Harry had slowed his thrusts and he dipped down to kiss you. It was messy and wet. He was on edge, his orgasm so close his balls were vibrating.

He looked down at you and thumbed over your cheek, “Flip over for Daddy. Gonna fuck you from behind and come on your back okay?”

You moaned and nodded as Harry pulled out and watched you lay on your tummy, ass nudged up.

Harry looked at Kit, “Not gonna come inside her. Don’t worry.”

He smoothed his hands over your ass and squeezed, parting your cheeks as he lifted your hips slightly to angle you up for his cock.

Harry pressed back into you, both of you sighing in relief, “Thank you, Daddy…” you mumbled into the comforter.

“Rub your pussy for, Daddy. Want you to feel good, baby.”

You did as he said, reaching your hand down between your body and the mattress as you fingered over your clit and Harry’s loud grunts were timed with each of his strokes into you.

His hips were slapping into your bottom and the tightness of your cunt around him and the view of your pretty anus was like fine art. It was slushy and wet.

You pushed back against him and felt saliva stream out of your mouth onto the bed below.

“Want your come, Daddy,” you quickly slicked your fingers back and forth along your clit as Harry’s masculine moans grew deeper and louder as he neared his end. “Please, Daddy!”

Harry watched his cock disappear into you over and over again, “Want my come, baby? Deep inside your cunt? Want to be stuffed with it?”

You nodded into the mattress, “Yes…” you whined.

“Sounds so fucking good,” Harry cooed as he began to tremble. His arms grew wobbly as his balls tightened. His cock twitched and pulsed and he quickly pulled out, ripping his condom off before spurts of his come started to pump from his dick. He wrapped his fist around himself and milked his shaft, pouring all over your back as he used his free hand to keep your cheeks spread apart. In a daring move, he released the last bit of himself over your ass and pussy as he loudly choked out a moan.

With his chest heaving and your ass swaying back toward him in hopes of him pushing his come inside of you the voice of Kit pulled you from your dreamy haze.

“Get up.” She did not sound as happy as she had been not long before.

Harry removed himself from your body and you pushed yourself up and turned to look at them.

“That’s not what I meant when I said don’t come in her. Coming on her back was okay but then on her pussy like that? You should have asked me first.”

Harry looked at you with his come all over you and back to his wife, “Sorry, Kit. It was all just in the moment. I shouldn’t have come on her like that.”

“I just… I don’t know. We need to talk about this more I think. But not with her here.” She gestured to you.

You were sort of stuck with your ass in the air, unable to move much because of Harry’s come on your back.

“Okay. That’s fine. We’ll talk. Let me clean her up,” Harry pointed at you.

“She can clean herself up. We don’t need to baby her, Harry.”

“Come on, Kit. She deserves to be treated nicely. And it’s on her back. She needs help.”

Kit suddenly walked away and Harry leaned onto the bed to look at you, “Are you okay?” He put his hand on the back of your thigh.

“Yeah. I’m okay. I didn’t mean to make her mad.”

Harry looked over his shoulder and back at you, “She’s not mad, sweetheart. This is all new for us so she just needs a minute. I’ll be right back with a towel okay?”

You felt a burning embarrassment slither down your spine at the idea that Kit didn’t like something you’d done. It was exactly that thing you had wanted to avoid. You loved being with Harry and Kit but you knew you let yourself get lost with Harry and you went too far. You’d fucked everything up and now you were surely going to lose your job and Kit would hate you forever.

Harry got back onto the bed with you and gently wiped at your back, “Don’t worry about anything. You did nothing wrong, Y/n. Okay?”

You nodded and kept your eyes cast down over the comforter in shame. Nothing felt good anymore. You were humiliated. And even though Harry said you’d done nothing wrong it didn’t feel that way.

You put your clothes on silently as Harry slid on his pants and Kit returned, “I want her to go home.”

Harry stood quietly as he looked at Kit in her robe. You let your sight flit between Harry and his wife and noticed the way Harry looked like he was fuming. Pissed.

“Absolutely not. We invited her to stay. She didn’t do anything wrong, Kit. What is wrong with you?”

“I want to talk and I don’t think I can do it with her anywhere near me.”

“Why are you talking about her like she’s not standing right here?” He gestured at you.

Kit sighed and looked down, “I don’t feel comfortable, Harry.”

A scoff fell from his lips, “Well geez. Just imagine how she feels.”

Kit looked at Harry with a scrunched brow, “Are her feelings somehow more important than your own wife’s right now?”

Harry shook his head and ran his hands over his face, “I’m not saying that. I’m saying hers are just as important as yours. She’s a human, Kit. Fuck.”

Kit left the room again, stomping as she walked into the hallway.

Harry turned and stepped in front of you, taking your hands in his, “I’m sorry about this. I didn’t know she would act this way. I’ll get the guest room set for you but you can’t drive after all that wine we drank and I’m not letting you take an Uber home alone at this hour.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I’ve never had any bad experiences with Uber drivers-“

“No fucking way I’m allowing it. You’re staying here and that’s final.”

Harry walked out of the bedroom and you plucked up your bra and panties that were lying on the floor and followed him to the guest room.

But you stopped before you went inside when you heard him and Kit arguing quietly.

“That was too intimate, Harry. Her asking for your come and you saying how good that sounded. Saying your cock is made for her? Fuck.”

“Kit, we were having sex. I can hardly remember what things were said to be honest. I was caught up in the moment.”

“I shouldn’t have let you fuck her.”

“Maybe not, but it’s done. Too late to take it back now. Jesus.”

“I don’t want her here. Now all I can think about is the way you two were just ignoring me and enjoying each other. I was completely left out there at the end.”

“I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.”

Kit sighed, “Me too. I feel disgusted. You should sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Come on, Kit. Don’t be like this. You know we were all just having fun.”

Kit walked out of the bedroom and stopped when she saw you. The look she gave you told you to keep your mouth closed and move out of her way. It felt like a threat. A warning.

You stood silently in the hallway as Harry made up your bed and you felt tears stream down your face. Kit suddenly walked up to you and handed you your bag roughly before walking back to her bedroom and closing the door behind her.

Harry peeked out of the room and saw you standing with your bag in your arms and tears in your eyes.

His heart dropped as he pulled you into the bedroom and wrapped his arms around you, one hand cradling the back of your head as he shushed you, “Don’t let her get to you, baby. Please don’t cry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

You gulped and the softness of Harry with his arms around you made you cry harder. You tried to stop your tears but everything had really just made you so overly emotional. You’d gone from ecstasy straight to shame and humiliation.

He rocked you gently back and forth and kissed the top of your head, “I didn’t even get to love on you after. I’m so sorry. I wanted to make it so special for you and it was ruined. Please don’t be upset. I’ll make sure Kit’s okay by the morning, okay sweetheart?” Harry held you out in. his arms and looked at you. He thumbed at the tears under your eye and you blinked up at him.

“Fuck,” he whispered as he leaned in and kissed your forehead.

Leading you to the bed he pulled the blankets down and patted at the mattress, “I’d help you change into your night clothes but I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to do that right now. Are you gonna be okay in here? The bathroom is right there,” he pointed at the ensuite guest bathroom. “Towels are in the closet. I’m gonna go and talk to Kit and see if I can calm her down. Text me if you need anything. Okay?”

You nodded with a pout. You were doing your best to hold your stupid tears in as Harry hugged you again and then stopped at the doorway and turned to smile at you sheepishly before closing the door and leaving you cold and alone and shattered.

Part 3

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urhoneycombwitch · 1 year ago

Text

my baby puts his mouth on me

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader

foreword: okay this is kind of written as a bonus scene for i know what they call you bc that version of reader deals with being quiet, too! (not necessary to read that one first but does provide a bit of context as far as interpersonal setting.) sort-of AU that ignores most s4 events.

cw: discussions of college, shy!reader, oral + fingering (R receiving), R has breasts and a V, weed usage, softdom!Eddie, shifting POV a bit soz

wc: 2.2k

___

Somewhere between Eddie’s late nights at band rehearsal and your early morning diner shifts, you’ve both been too exhausted to properly fuck when you do see each other, barely time for a spare handjob in the past week. You’re crawling out of your skin by the weekend, missing and craving Eddie in equal measure.

So when your Saturday off happens to line up with his, Eddie makes an afternoon of it- picnic lunch on the shore of Lover’s Lake, lazing around in the August sun while your food settles, then stripping down to your underclothes (even though the spot Eddie scored was totally isolated, you’re still leery about skinny dipping) and cooling off with a quick dip in the lake.

You’re both sprawled out in the blanketed back of Eddie’s van, sun-warmed bodies pressed together, legs dangling out of the open rear door; smoke hangs hazy in the air from the joint being shared.

“Almost end of summer,” Eddie says, nestling his nose into your neck, arms wrapping around your middle. He can’t look at you, dread unfurling in his stomach but needing to ask, to clear the air, to prepare in case this is one of the last times he gets to touch you like this- “Thinkin’ of going to any colleges?”

”Maybe.” One of your hands slides into Eddie’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp while the other lifts the joint to your lips for a long drag. “They love me at the diner and I make good tips, so I’ll prob’ly keep doing that. Can’t afford anything fancy, anyways- I’ll likely just go to Hawkins Community.”

You still haven’t told him the full story of the mall fire, yet- or about the underground world simmering beneath the surface. He never pushes you to share more than you’re comfortable, which you’re grateful for, but he knows something happened: something that paints your sleep with dark night terrors, something that causes you to slip in the middle of conversations, mind spiraling where he can’t follow.

For reasons you can’t fully explain to Eddie, college is real low on your priority list- you’ve dedicated this summer to reconnecting with base instincts (weed and Pretty Boy being at the top of the list).

Meanwhile, Eddie tries to still the vibrant thrum of his heart at the news of you staying local, possibly for the next few years; he lifts his head to press his lips against your collarbone. “You should go to college. Jus’ try it out, at least. You’re certainly smart enough.”

“Mmm-” you hum around the joint, another inhale-exhale of smoke before murmuring, “So are you. For the record. We could apply to be nerds together, if you want-”

With a sharp gasp, your sentence drops out of midair when Eddie kisses over your nipple, already peaking through the thin material of your bra. In his hair, your grip tightens, and Eddie groans.

In one fluid movement, he props himself into his elbows on either side of your torso, bottom half of his weight pinning you in place, plucking the smoldering joint from your grasp to dampen it into a nearby ashtray.

“Gonna be my little student,” Eddie says, wet kisses trailing down your neck, flash of teeth making you squirm. “Get you some academic… skirts. The ones with the pleats. Maybe some stockings…”

“You’re so- oh, fuck- dirty…” It’s hard to keep the admonishment in your voice as Eddie noses between your thighs, bumping at your clit through the thin cover of high-cut cotton.

“Mm-hmm.” He seems pleased with the already-visible wet patch, your core leaking steadily as he burrows deeper, until all his senses are blacked-out with nothing but the sharp tang of your honeyed arousal- who needs weed. He could get high off your smell alone.

Eddie suckles at your throbbing clit, purring encouragement low in his throat when your hips jolt forward. “And you love it."

He’s one deep inhale from being completely pussy-drunk, mouthing sloppily at the junction where thigh meets pelvis, nimble fingers toying at the band of your underwear. He slides them down and off your legs, and you let him, wiggling in anticipation against the pressure he’s keeping you pinned with.

“Could take an electrician course.” Well aware of how close to the wire this conversation is sliding, you let the crown of your head tip back, staring at the van’s ceiling, handfuls of the flannel floor blanket squeezed into fists as you try getting one last word in- “You’re good with your h- hands.”

Said hand is cupping your bare sex, warm and wide between the V of your legs, other hand pushing your thigh back to spread you wide, obscene and on display how Eddie likes; embarrassment blooms hot in your chest as he runs a finger through your folds, slick practically loud against the far-off backdrop of forest sounds.

“What was that about my hands?” He’s teasing now, can hear it in his voice even though you can’t see the lazy grin it’s paired with; a long middle finger breaches your entrance, wet warmth swallowing the length greedily.

Your eyes flutter shut, sighing. There will be a time for arguments again but right now, with a second finger addition and Eddie’s mouth working you up, there’s no room for speech.

On your end, at least- Eddie’s proven on multiple occasions to be a master at multitasking, talking you through it while managing your pleasure, and this afternoon is no exception. His fingers curl expertly into the gummy front wall of your cunt, mouth running every second it’s not latched on to your pulsing button, dirty talk smooth and easy in his low timbre.

“Yeah, honey, that’s it. Fuck, you’re so hot. Can feel you squeezin’ around my fingers, y’so tight, angel, shit… like that- there you go…”

Etcetera. Until he’s bullied his way completely into the cradle of your legs, lying flat on his stomach to get as close as possible; until your cunt is spasming around the push and pull of his fingers, wet dripping and pooling into his palm and down your ass to the blanket below.

There’s a familiar tightness coiling in your stomach, thighs bracing around Eddie’s ears in anticipation of the unraveling. A pleasure-soaked sob gets caught in your throat, dull whine escaping instead through clenched teeth, grip on the flannel doubling until your knuckles creak in protest.

“Hey.”

There’s a confusing lack of authority or command in Eddie’s voice; you sift through the brain fog of arousal, propping your weight up into your elbows to look down at him.

Eddie looks crazy. Debauched. Lips pink and spit-soaked, chin shimmering, pupils blown out with lust as he presses a chaste kiss to the wiry curls at your mound. “Kinda quiet up there. Everything okay?”

His thumb sweeps a comforting path up the soft skin of your thigh, the abrupt switch from animal to gentleness making your head swim. He’s still looking at you with those puppy-brown eyes, fingers still buried to the hilt but unmoving; you stammer out an excuse.

“Um- yeah. M’sorry. It’s just been awhile, since you’ve had me… like this.”

It’s the truth; over the last busy week in your lives, time has eroded some of what Eddie’s been working on building with you, bravery at making noise faded with the lessened practice time.

“No one else out here, ‘cept you and me, sweetheart.” Eddie’s coaxing his fingers back into steady rhythm, watching your face carefully for any signs of withholding. “Can make as much noise as you want. Lemme hear. Please?”

Usually, Eddie’s not so soft- a sharp crack of palm to ass, flesh jiggling as he draws all the noises he wants from you- but here, in the back of the van, heady weed and warm sun an intoxicating mixture as he asks you to melt for him.

You obey. Let the floor take your upper body’s weight again as you fuck yourself on his fingers, hips lifted and seeking release. His mouth seals over your clit again, tip of his tongue lashing quick and precise against it, frizz of his curls tickling the insides of your legs as he shakes his head.

The weed is certainly a help as trapped noises heave from your chest, mouth falling open, lax and pliant with moans. “Oh, my god, Eddie. Fuck. Holy shit. Hah- right there, please, don’t stop-”

As if he would. Eddie moans in tandem with you, his own hips chasing the maddening pressure of the floorboards against the hard jut of his cock, leaking through the front of his boxers as he adds a third finger, spurred on by the fountain of breathy words this pulls from you-

“Oh god, oh god- f-fuck- Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie-”

Your speech devolves into a mindless, babbling chant of his name. That coil pulls taut, has you crunching forward in a half sit-up, hands fisting at the roots of Eddie’s hair to hold him in place (perhaps harsher than you intend but based on the way his hips stutter and grind, you can safely hazard a guess that he’s into it).

The pattern breaks when he grazes his teeth against the pulsing nub in his mouth; you have just enough time to gasp out, “I- I’m coming, Eddie, shit, m’gonna come-” before the orgasm hits you full-force.

There isn’t room in your brain to hide all the noise that threatens to suffocate, so you let them all out, muscles tightening and flexing around every bright point of pleasure that he fucks you through. High-pitched whines, panting that wracks your lungs, a moan to top it all off that feels like it comes from your toes.

“Jesus christ.” Eddie swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, sounding wrecked himself as he climbs back over your body, silver chain necklace and dark curls swinging in front of your blissed-out face. “Fuck, princess. That was so hot.”

“Yeah?” Bashfulness hasn’t fully settled in yet, you’re still loopy from the force of your pleasure, arms slipping over the boy’s freckled shoulders as he leans down to kiss you.

His tongue has a bright tang of you, as you lick into his mouth, one hand leaving his shoulder to trail down his chest. Dark ink whorls beneath your fingertips as you reach the scratchy trail of hair just before his boxers-

“Shit.” Eddie hisses, forehead thunking into yours when you palm the hard length of him, precum soaking through the fabric, softness of your palm contrasting with the damp and rough drag of cotton. His long lashes tickle your cheek, eyes fluttering closed, soft exhale magnified by close proximity as he slowly pushes into your hand.

You’re mildly surprised he hasn’t come, yet- usually Eddie gets off on getting you off, then uses the rest of his energy to make you both come again, together.

What Eddie hasn’t told you yet is that he’s done some prep of his own, this week: every night you haven’t spent in his bed, his own spit-slicked fist has taken him right to the edge, stopping just short of coming with a choking grip at the base. The idea was to build up his stamina a bit, to take advantage of lonely evenings in service to a future you.

A very noble cause that is quickly being forgotten as your hand moves with more intent and pressure against his aching cock- the drug haze is almost enough to have him completely at your mercy, to tuck his nose into the curve of your neck and find sweet release by way of your pretty palm.

But he recovers. Get just enough distance from the warmth of you to clear his mind and snake his own hand down between your bodies to capture your twisting wrist.

The protest dies on your lips when Eddie brings your hand to his mouth, sucking your middle and index finger against the pad of his tongue, saturating your digits in spit.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do.” His eyes stay locked on yours, even as he guides your newly-wet fingers back down your bodies to rest atop your cunt. “You’re gonna touch yourself until you come. Again. And if I feel like you’re holding out on me with your noises, I’m gonna make it real difficult for you to make any noise. At all.”

A thrilling shiver races up your spine, goosebumps prickling in response to the shift in Eddie’s tone. His eyes flick to your lower lip, which he bites, unable to help himself, before following the path of your hand south.

There will be time for unwinding the past, for dreaming about the future. For now, there’s a boy between your legs and the feverish glow of summer calling your name.

___

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you

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entername322 · 1 year ago

Text

Someone like you

Chaewon (ex Izone, Le Sserafim) x Male Reader

Length: 17666 words

TW: Abusive relationship

Next part

Pain, that's all you can say about yourself. Why does falling in love always have a risk of heartbreak? Sometimes you wonder if the risk outweighs the gains. For your particular case, it doesn't, it never has. “...... and then I came home to see him decorated the whole place with flowers and candles. Isn't he so romantic?” Right, flowers and candles, you know where that was going. “Yeah, that sounds great Chae”, It felt like your heart was being plucked out of your heart and set on fire. Why is your love stronger than your heart, if only your love breaks before your heart does. “He's so romantic sometimes, I love him so much-, Awwww”, Her cries of pain distract you from the twisting feeling your chest feels.

“I'm sorry Chae”, You steady your hands and continue stitching her wounds. “It's fine, thanks for this Pup, I owe you a lot”, You cringed a little hearing her nickname for you. “Chae we're both grown up now can you please stop calling me that?” It's a cute nickname, which only hurts you more realising that this is as far as you can get from being with her. “No, you will always be the cute little puppy”, Yes you are, who's a good puppy? The guy who keeps simping for his crush even after she's been in a relationship for a year now. It's you by the way, you're the good puppy, so loyal to your master. “There, all done, now just the bandages”, A good puppy who has graduated from medical school, hey that means you can take care of your master even better now. “Is it really okay for you to do this for free?” What dog would ask their owner for money? Alright let's lay off the dog jokes, you're still lame by the way.

“It's fine, they're cheap”, Even if they aren't, you wouldn't charge her anything right? “Thank you, I really mean it. I don't know how I can even repay you pup”, Chae grabbed your arm, her warm palm felt like a red hot iron that scorched your skin. “Yeah, it's fine. It's my job to care for people's lives after all”, You tried your best to smile at her, to show her you're doing this out of the goodwill of your heart. “You're just so, kind and stupid sometimes. If only he can be more like you”, She muttered the last part but it was loud enough for you to hear it. It fucking hurts, so fucking painful hearing something so ignorantly brutal. “So, how's work? Everything is fine in the hospital?” If Chaewon noticed your pained smile then she doesn't show it. “Nothing interesting is happening so far, although there's an offer for a transfer. I haven't read much about it but it will be a year long ‘voluntary work’. It's not fully voluntary though because we're gonna get paid decently, and we're gonna be working with a few other volunteers from all over the country”, Chaewon tilted her head curiously, “Are you gonna take it?” You were surprised to hear her words. It caught you off guard so you didn't get to hear a little hint of anxiousness in her words.

“I don't know, it's interesting”, Maybe that's what you need, a time away from your crush. “Oh, I'm sure you'll do great in it”, Chaewon smiles encouragingly, which only hurts you even more. Honestly, what were you expecting? Did you think she would ask you to stay here? Tell you how much she needs her and doesn't want you to leave? Come on bro, she's not like that. “Yeah, I was thinking about taking it”, You didn't really mean that when you say that, however seeing her genuine encouraging smile made you really consider it for real. “Well, I need to go home, thanks again for today pup, I owe you a lot”, Chaewon stood up with a smile on her face ready to leave. “Yeah see you later Chae”, You just sit there watching her leave your place while a storm is brewing in your mind.

“Fuck”, You muttered to yourself, completely unaware that Chaewon is also cursing herself once she left your house. “Goddamnit pup why do you have to leave. You idiot”, The stinging pain in her arm is gone, covered with the sour mood she felt in her heart. “It's been years already and you're still waiting for me”, Oh, she does notice your feelings it seems. Of course she does, the two of you have known each other for years now. The memory of your meeting plays very differently between you and Chaewon's mind. For her she remembers how clumsy and cute you were, stumbling over your own words, overdosing on teenage hormones because of talking to a girl. For you it was an embarrassing attempt at making a friend on your first day of highschool, something that would keep you up at night with cringe.

“Idiot”, She kicked a can on the road out of frustration, but it's not enough so she started stomping on it with the hope of burying down the guilt that's building inside her. It's not that she wanted to use you, but…… she's just busy, or so she thinks. Her boyfriend, uhhhhh his name is irrelevant, is a hassle to deal with. She loves him, he's kind and caring and honest and cute and kind….. it's just sometimes he loses his tempers. Sometimes he would, lash out and accidentally hurt her, but he never meant to do so. It's getting better now (It's not) his outburst is getting less frequent (Pretty sure the ideal and normal frequency is 0) and he always tries to make it up to her (With empty promises and lies).

Chaewon stops stomping on the poor can and just stares at the sky, finally realising it won't help erase the guilt she's having. On her defence she wanted to help you get over your crush for her. She cares about you, and she wants what's best for you. She wanted to introduce you to her friends, let you fall in love with someone who will love you back. Sometimes she thinks about a future where you date someone else, then you and her can be platonic friends, a brother from a different mother. It's just that, when her boyfriend got mad, and she got hurt, she can't run to the hospital because they would pester her about it. She can't run to most of her friends or family because they would also pester her, you're the only one who can help her. You were, the only one who would enable her. Young people, they're so dumb sometimes, both you and her included.

“Haaaaa, why can't we just be friends”, Chaewon sighed, she's not blaming you for your feelings, it would be hypocritical for her to judge someone's feelings when she's being chained by her own feelings. When you told her about the project she wanted to say don't take it, she wants you to stay here, to help her. Thankfully she recognises how selfish she is, and encourages you to leave, to get over your own feelings. It hurts, it feels wrong, seeing you break away from your feelings. Perhaps she yearns to have the courage to break free of her own chains. “I'm back”, Chaewon put on a smile as she got back to her place, “Welcome back babe, how was your day”, Of course for now she can only put on a smile and let herself fall deeper into the abyss.

“Are you sure? You know it won't be an easy trip right?” It's been a week since that talk with Chaewon, and today you are finalising your proposal of joining the volunteer work to your boss. “I'm sure sir, beside…… I need some time away from this place”, Is running away considered a solid reason for joining a harsh voluntary work? “Hmmm, well, if your only reason for taking this job is just a getaway from whatever shit you're dealing here, I suggest don't”, You flinched hearing your boss. “I think I can handle the job boss”, You tried to sound tough, “You know, I always pity you”, That's kinda harsh. “You are a good guy, smart and very nice. You're just too nice I sometimes hope you didn't get scammed and used by other people”, Yeah that sounds kinda familiar alright.

“I want to try something new. I think I can handle the work, and it might help me too”, If you say that with a little more conviction it would sound cool you know. “Haaaaa, youngsters with their self-finding journeys”, He shook his head and signed the form, “Comeback here, in one piece”, A smile form on your face before you quickly nod and bow to him. It's odd, you don't exactly feel excited about it, but you don't feel scared or disappointed about leaving everything behind, you're just numb to it. “Stop daydreaming and prepare the other documents you need”, Your boss slammed his hand on the desk waking you up. “Ahhh right, thank you boss”, He shook his head and sighed seeing your awkwardness, “I really hope you didn't get shot out there”, He's joking right?

After submitting the rest of the paperwork you went back home, had a nice call with your mom where she absolutely desecrated you with her words. “Are you insane? You're doing volunteer work in an active warzone?” Holy shit you are? “I'm not working in the warzone itself, I'm just a civilian mom. I'll be at the refugee camp, away from the battlefield”, That's the word you keep repeating to her for hours before she finally calms down. “Just, tell me it's not because of that Chaewon girl”, 2 hours and 16 minutes into the call your mom finally asked the right question. “No, of course not mom”, You can't lie to your mom, she's the one who teaches you how to lie to your dad. “Are you an idiot? Did I spend months carrying you around and 20 years plus feeding and taking care of you just to have you die somewhere because of a heartbreak?” Oooffff, why can't you be more like your mom?

“No mom, it's I think I-”, A knock on your apartment door can be heard, “Hey pup, are you there?” Speak of the devil. “Mom I'll call you later”, Your voice came off shaky and anxious, the time has come to test your resolve of running away. “Yeah, just a second”, Take a deep breath, calm your nerves and try not to lose your composure.

“What happened?” Come on now, you know what happened, “It's not a big deal, just a scratch”, You reached out and grabbed her face, inspecting her cheek. Chaewon smiles seeing your concerned face, you've always been awkward and shy around her, except when she's injured. When she got a scar you would just disregard your shyness just to make sure she's fine, it's a cute gesture she always likes about you. “I guess, it really is just a scratch”, You sighed relief seeing it wasn't a deep cut, then you realised how you are holding her and immediately let go as your face turns into a tomato. What happened to maintaining your composure?

“So?” Chaewon just tilted her head cutely, “Are you gonna invite me in?” That's a pretty ambiguous question, would you let her in again? “Right come on in”, You're hopeless sometimes. Chaewon sat down at your living room, silently noticing the packed up bag you had in your room. Her heartbeat rises as she realises what it means, some part of her wants to deny it but the other part knows that your leave was inevitable. “Tea?” She smiles and nods as you go and prepare her some of her favourite tea, of course you have her favourite tea at your house. “So, what happened?” You asked after giving her a warm cup of tea, “You know, the usual. He had a stressful day at work, I was also kinda tired from mine and we just clashed”, Usually the ‘clash’ that happens is between her and his fist.

“Well, you know what I want to say right?” Chae shrugged before she stood up and walk towards your cat, “Little Luna is getting fat aren't you?” Chaewon picked her up and started pinching her stomach. “She's gonna cut your face you know that right?” Chaewon laughed and sat back next to you while still holding Luna. “Well, I'm sure you trained her not do that right?” Her smile is such a deadly weapon to your conviction. “It's a cat Chae, you don't train them, they'll train you”, And to hammer this point Luna let out a loud meow and scratched Chaewon's hand. “Luna '', You scolded the fat cat as she jumped off Chaewon's lap, “Hehehe, one day I'll make her enjoy my cuddles”, Chae laughed as you examined her arm.

“We should clean this up”, It's really not that bad, it's just a little cut on the epidermis, “It's really not that deep bro”, You flicked her head and cleaned up her hand as she teases you for over your perfectly reasonable hygiene. “So, can I crash the night here?” Her question made you stop in your tracks, not because it caught you off guard, but because you know she only asked if things really went bad at her place. “Pup?” Chae was taken off guard seeing how quiet you've become, “Chae, I…… can't do this anymore”, She raises her eyebrow hearing you. “Do what?” You sighed and finished cleaning up her hand before sitting in front of her.

“I can't, keep letting you hurt yourself because of-”, You start talking without thinking and Chae immediately bites back, “Stop it, I don't want to hear that from you”, She felt awful for raising her voice but she really doesn't want to hear those things. “Well this might be the last time you ever hear it from me ever again”, You blurted out, making her heart stop for a moment, “What?” Her voice sounds squeaky and vulnerable. “Chae, I'm leaving”, Seeing her suddenly had glassy eyes made you second guess yourself. “For how long?” It's hard for her to accept it, “The volunteer work is one year long, but it might be longer since I'm gonna arrive early to have some field training”, You can't look her in the face, it's painful for you to see her so hurt with the notion of you leaving.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, Luna moves to your lap and starts purring as if she realised you're having a tough time right now. “Is it-”, Chae’s voice broke and she took a second to calm herself down, “Is it final already?” Yet it still came out all squeaky. You didn't answer for a second, hearing her concern for your leave felt nice. It's a dangerous bait, she's giving a false hope that getting her is actually plausible if you stay here. “Yes”, "Oh you actually didn't take the bait, good job, “I already submitted the required paperwork and they already approved it. My flight is in 3 days”, In your mind, you just think Chaewon is trying to use you.

After all this time you finally opened your eyes and saw that she's out of reach, she was never going to like you the way you like her. Obviously you don't really see the complex feelings she has for you but hey at least you're taking a step in the right direction. “How long were you planning to keep this away from me?” Seeing her being aggressive made you feel bitter, you hate seeing her with this new lens. “I didn't know how to tell you, besides…… I didn't think you would care”, Suddenly Chae grabbed your face forcing you to look at her.

“You're my best friend, of course I care. Just because I encourage you to go doesn't mean you should just leave without saying anything”, It's painful, finally realising that the person you care the most is inherently toxic. You're not saying that she's in a toxic relationship because she's also toxic, but she has certainly dragged you into one because she is selfish. Chaewon needs you, because you're the only one who would enable her Stockholm syndrome. “It's just…… I don't know if I can face you”, You pull back your head away from her grip and look back at Luna who's acting cute to cheer you up. “What was that supposed to mean? You can't tell your best friend for, 8 or 9 years that you're leaving? And you just want me to accept that suddenly you went missing without saying anything?”

“Chae….. you know I liked you right”, Silence fills the room, you anxiously wait for her responses, hoping that somehow she can break the new image you had for her. Yet the silence was long and the curiosity you had is too loud to ignore, so you raise your head and look her in the eyes. She wasn't surprised, or confused, or angry, she just had the look of understanding, “I know”, Those words flowed out of her mouth. It was so quiet that it was barely a whisper, yet it echoed through you like a thunderclap. When the ringing subsided the only thing you can hear is the loud crash of your heart breaking into a million pieces. She knew, this whole time she knew about it and never said anything. Had she enjoyed watching you squirm and dance for her while your feelings laid bare like an open wound? Was it some cruel game to her?

Chaewon felt regretful, seeing your heart break right in front of her is tormenting her conscience. It's inevitable, yet she was not prepared for how painful it was for her as well. “I know, and I'm sorry I never said anything-”, Chaewon saw you stand up and stop talking. “I….. god, this whole time?” Tears start to flow down your cheek, “I never meant to use you, I just, don't know what to say to you”, Chae reaches for your hand, her touch sending shivers down your spine, but not the comforting kind like it used to. It feels calculated, manipulative, a stark contrast to the warmth you once associated with it.

Chae sees the disdain you had in your eyes and it made her scared. Scared of losing you, scared of seeing you lose your temper, and worst of all, scared of having to confront the consequences of her actions. “Pup-”, You pull back your hand making her flinch, “Don't call me that. You….. you like seeing me like that didn't you? Being a good puppy, chasing you around, wagging my tail like a loyal dog”, Your words came out as a thunderous roar that made her squirm in her seat. “No, of course not, please I'm sorry, can we talk this out first”, Chaewon reached out to grab your hand again before pulling you to sit back down. “I….. I can't, you're just…….. I….. this whole time…..”, You just keep muttering to yourself. “Please sit down, I'm sorry I messed up okay? Can you please hear me out first?” Chae pleaded as tears also started to pour down her face. Those tears, they're real, but not to you, you think you know better and managed to see through her ‘manipulation tactics’. You grabbed your phone on the table and just stormed off the apartment, running as far away as you can from her.

Chae wanted to stop you, to reach out and grab you, yet her vision is blurred and she can't even see you leave the front door as the floodgates burst open. She can't even hear you slam the front door as she starts to cry her heart out. Her actions can only lead to one outcome, and she knows the longer she stalls the confrontation the worse the fallout is going to be. Unfortunately in her delusion she hopes that one day you'll just let go of your feelings and everything will be good. Your apartment, once a safe haven for her, is now empty and devoid of your warmth. The ‘beautiful friendship’ built upon the unspoken words between the two of you has crumbled like a house of cards by a single gust of wind. Hours passed away before her tears finally dried out. Chaewon lay down on the couch devoid of energy, all she can do right now it's just text you hoping that you'll answer her.

You on the other hand are being absolutely ripped apart by your mom, “You ran all the way here?” Her voice boomed around the house. “Haaaaa, Haaaa, haaaaa, nooo……” Your whole body is drenched by sweat, your mom's place is like a 30 minute train ride and you just ran there like a mad man. “You idiotic rascal, tell me what you did”, Your mom starts slapping you as you are dying from exhaustion. It took a while for her to calm down and give you a drink. Throughout your recollection of what happens your mom keeps the same expression, it was the ‘I told you so’ expression. Once you finished the two of you just sat there in silence, you wanted to say something but words just couldn't come out of your mouth. “Haaaaaa, go take a shower and get some rest darling, you're all sweaty and smelly”, You nod before going back to your childhood bedroom.

As you finish a long hot shower you see Chaewon has messaged you almost a hundred times already alongside a few missed calls. You just stare at the notification, too scared to open it. In the end your fatigue overtake you and you slowly drift off to sleep without reading her texts. The next day you silently join your mom at breakfast, she sees that you're not ready to talk yet so she just silently acknowledges it before giving you farewell as she went to work. The day passes by slowly, it doesn't help that you were just laying down on the bed as you rethink what happened last night. Is Chaewon really a toxic bitch, or was she just a product of her environment. Are you seriously trying to give her a pass for what she did? Okay yeah she's your friend for years now and you've seen her slowly turn from this confident and unapologetic girl into a meek abuse victim. However does that excuse her behaviour of leading you on for years?

No, I need to give her the benefit of the doubt. I need to hear what she has to say at least. One chance, after all I'll be gone soon and I might not be able to see her again for a long time.

Alright, if that's what you want, just know you might lose yourself in her eyes again. “Mom, I need your opinion on something”, That's not exactly a polite way to greet your mom when she gets home. However she nods and follows you to the living room where you recounted your dramatic talk with Chaewon. “Darling, look at me”, Your mom grabbed your hand, “You are being an idiot a hundred percent”, Jeez thanks mom. “But if she is as manipulative as you said she was then it's also not fully your fault. After all, you can't really blame a victim fully for being taken advantage of”, Hey that's not an encouragement for your stupid idea. “Yeah, you're right mom….. I guess a toxic environment would make toxic people right?” Fucking hell you're hopeless. “What? Are you letting this slide already?” Thank fuck your mom wouldn't let such stupidity pass, “No, I just…. I guess I want to understand why she did it. After all I'm gonna be away for a year at least and if I don't get this straight then I might spend the better part of my time being distracted by her”, That's not a convincing argument, at least not for your mom.

“ARE YOU BEING SERIOUS RIGHT NOW? You just said she's a manipulative bitch and now you want to run back to her with the risk of you falling for her trap again?” It felt kinda nice, channelling the pain you're having in your heart with your mom's beating, however you should stop her before she accidentally kills you. “Mom, I just want to leave this place with some peace in mind, okay? Can you just trust me this one time?” The answer is no, but she took a deep breath before she examined you slowly. “I'll trust you just this once, how do you plan to meet her again?” Relief and determination washes over you seeing that your mom has agreed to let you have closure. “I'll text her tonight hopefully we can have lunch before I leave in two days”, Solid plans, surely nothing bad would happen. “Fine, now go order something for dinner, I'm starving”

You: Hey, sorry about yesterday

Chae: Where are you? Why did you ghost me for the whole day? Do you have any idea how worried I was?

You: No sorry Chae I'm at my mom's house already. Sorry for running off like that yesterday

Chae: It's fine, are you coming back?

You: Not today, I need some sleep to clear my mind.

Chae: Then, can we talk tomorrow?

You: I hope so. Can we meet up at lunch?

Chae: That would be nice, I'm sorry too.

You: Yeah, guess we were too hot headed last night

Chae: Yeah, I'll see you back here at your place tomorrow then?

You: You're still there?

Chae: Duhhhh, you left with your keys dangling on your phone, what am I supposed to do? Leave the door unlocked so someone can break in?

You: Oh yeah, I forgot. I'll come by at lunch then, I'll see you tomorrow.

Chaewon has been spending the day with her mind full of anxiety. She's scared that you might do, something drastic. The fact that you didn't answer or even read her text made her think of the worst possibility. However when you finally reply she lets out a sigh of relief knowing that you're fine. Tomorrow, she has to apologise to you, she has to make sure you leave on a high note. If things go wrong and you leave before she can mend this friendship then the two of you would never recover from it. She can't let that happen, after all you're also an important part of her life. Even though it wasn't in the way that you wanted it to be.

You see, the thing about life, it has a humorous side. To whom might the humour cater to? Nobody knows really, but it certainly wasn't aimed at you and Chaewon. “Chae come home now”, Those words are the things Chae feared the most. After every fight her boyfriend has two possible routes he will default too. One, surprise her with gifts and romantic gestures to make sure she remembers how nice he can be. Second, he can double down and try to ‘reason’ with her by making her accept that his outburst is just part of who he is. Unfortunately, today he decided to take the second option, which means if Chaewon didn't comply there's gonna be a second fight. “Can I see you after lunch, I'm-” Her hand is shaking anxiously when she says, “NO, come home now”, And when he interrupts her she almost drops her phone. “Babe please, I have an appointment at lunch”, She pleaded, “Babe…… come home”, He used his cold voice which is the final warning, and Chaewon can only curse her own luck, “Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can”

Chaewon quickly scrambled throughout your apartment, “Fuck me, why the fuck can't anything to right for once”, She glance over the flight ticket you had and memorise the schedule before quickly wrote a note on pen and paper. “Fuck, pup please, for the love of god please understand, I promise I can make it up to you”, She pray, to whomever would listen and grant her wishes. As she writes some tears start to fall down her eyes and stain the paper. It was supposed to be a short note saying how her boyfriend suddenly called and she hopes you can reschedule lunch. However, due to her frustration she ended up writing a long essay saying how much she's sorry and even writing out about the things she wanted to tell you in person. During this she was interrupted with a text message from her boyfriend asking her where she is. Chaewon haphazardly finishes the note before bolting out of the apartment, leaving the door unlocked.

A few hours later you anxiously knock on your apartment door, waiting for her to open the door. Every second felt like an eternity and as time passes your stomach starts to twist making you feel like you want to puke. “Chaewon?” You tried to unlock your door to find it was unlocked, walking inside you call up to Chaewon but the only response you get is Luna purring on the couch. It was clear, she wasn't here, “Fuck”, For the first time in forever you actually yell out your frustration. On the coffee table you find a stack of paper, glancing over it you easily recognise her handwriting.

This is it? This is how we're parting ways Chae? With a stack of notes?

Take a deep breath, calm your nerves and sit down on the couch, try to read the note with an open mind.

Hey pup, sorry but babe wants to meet me. You know how it is, I don't want to make him mad. I really, really, really, like I mean really feel bad for leaving you this note but I sincerely hope you understand. I know I don't deserve to ask for another chance but I hope we can reschedule our lunch tomorrow. If you don't want to, I get it. It'll hurt but I get it. The thing is pup, I never want to hurt you, I really don't. You're kind, strong and smart, I always admire how mature you are and how you can get your shit together. It's hard for me to say this, but I'm sorry that I never felt any romantic attraction towards you.

I don't want to make this cliche but it's not you, it's just me. I know you're cringing right now but just know that sometimes people just aren't made for each other. I love you, as my friend. Sometimes I dream of a different life for us. One where you and I can stay as friends, one where you're my shy, innocent and diligent little brother and I can be your caring and teasing older sister. I know it's hard for you to read this but just know even though you and I are not meant to be, you still have a special place in my heart. And I'm sorry, I never say anything about this.

I was scared, I was confused and I was distracted. Fuck it sounds so bad but I really wanted to help you get over those feelings pup. It's selfish I know, but I want to fix my relationship with my boyfriend before I start making things up for you. You know I have a lot of friends, I know you've been eyeing Kazuha some times, and I know she is interested in you. Fuck, I really wish things would go a different way. I wish we could be best friends forever, you and I, confiding in each other. I hope it doesn't sound too harsh but you and I are special, it's just, not in the way you hope it would be.

When you said about this volunteer work I might encourage you, but deep down I was scared. I know one day you'll finally snap and confront me about this weird dynamic between us. When you say about an opportunity to leave and get out of your shell I was scared that you'll leave me and come back as a different person. I was scared, because in this fucked up and chaotic world you were the one who made me feel safe. Someone that would understand my struggle and help me through it. However on the other hand I wanted you to break off your shell. This whole time you've been living for me, for the hope that I'll be yours. I wanted you to find your own path and find yourself, get away from me so that you'll find a way to let go of your feelings.

Now, writing this whole thing I realised, I can't keep being selfish. I hurt you enough, dragging you down to a toxic relationship unintentionally. So, if you're looking for a farewell, I'll give it. Go out there pup, save people's life, realise that you're much more than what you've given yourself credit for. I hope you'll break free of the collar I've put on you this whole time. You're an amazing person, and I hope you can live up to your potential. Maybe one day, once you come back you'll find a reason to forgive me. For the pain I cause you, for all those medical supplies you've spent for me, for ditching our last meeting with these notes. I know I don't deserve to ask anything from you, but this time, I ask you to be happy. I ask you to let me go, and just, find someone who can love you as much as you love me.

Fuck I've been rambling for too long already. Pup, if you do feel like meeting me before you fly away just text me. If you don't, I'll understand. I won't let you go without saying goodbye to your face though. I remember your flight schedule, so if you don't want to meet me again I'll go there and just, wave you goodbye. Stay strong pup, I hope we can meet again.

Chaewon's tears that have stained the paper are almost gone, replaced by your own tears that almost render the paper unreadable. Is this the closure you wanted? Was there some sliver of hope you still hold on to thinking Chae might actually have some form of romantic feelings towards you? It's bittersweet, although the sweetness is nowhere to be found, you know one day you can see this note with fondness. Maybe this note will be the catalyst of your change. But for now, you just had to swallow this bitter pill and move on. Well, cry your heart out first, let the catharsis calm you down after. “Fuck Chae, I don't know if you'll still be here after I come back though”, Yeah that's a fair point. “Don't die, please don't die while I'm away”

The whole day, and the day after, you just felt this new energy flowing through you. There's still some pain and bitterness there but you understand, it's the first step towards the right direction. Your mom also seems to be pleased with the outcome of this. “Okay, maybe she's not as bad as I expect her to be darling. She's pitiful, that's the best way I can describe her”, Just like how you are attached to Chaewon, your mom also had some attachments toward her. After all, Chaewon was the person who has been keeping you safe from bullies and was one of the only genuine friends that is still in contact with you after all these years. “Mom, can I ask you a favour?” Your mom nodded confidently, she knew what you wanted to ask. “I know darling, I'll take care of Luna while you're away. And I'll make sure that your dear friend will still be in a recognisable state when you come back”, The lady part needs some better wording but that will do.

“Thanks mom, and if she contacts you, can you just give her these?” You hand her a little gift box, “Darling, this isn't a therapy appointment, she won't need this”, Hopefully you can find your mom's sassiness within you in this year long journey. “Just, give it to her okay mom? I'll be off”, She nods and kissed your forehead, “Don't die out there sweetie, I love you”, She smiled at you, a mother's encouraging smile is an over powered buff, “I love you too mom”

Let's move back to Chaewon, she knows it's your departure day and she read your text saying that you won't mind seeing her wave you goodbye at the airport. However, like usual she is being held back by someone. “Chae I need you to stop lying to me okay?” The calm tone her boyfriend is talking in is unnerving. It was like an ice pick that's being stabbed to Chaewon's fresh open wounds. “I'm not lying babe, he really is just a friend”, Chaewon cried, she doesn't want to cry because- “Liar”, He would scream at her, *CRACK* a loud smack echoes throughout the room as he slapped her with all his might. “I wasn't, babe please believe me. He's leaving for a year. I promise I just want to say goodbye to him”, Chaewon cried out as she lay on the ground while her body was screaming with pain. “I know you spent the night with him, Chae, don't lie to me. I let you off this whole time because I know that pussy won't be brave enough to make a move on you. But you, I know you fucking sluttyness knows no bounds. You were giving him a farewell gift, weren't you? You let him have sex with you after years and years of simping for you. Now you want to go there and make him rethink about leaving so you can keep him. I know a fucking bitch like you would keep a side man, a second option”

After a while he just left her in his house. Chae lays down on the floor, face messed up with tears and bruises, her body is exhausted from the mental and physical torture she's been subjected too in the last two days. She lay down there for god knows how long before she finally regained her consciousness. Looking at the time it's already an hour past your departure. Her tears are already dried up so she can't even let out her frustration anymore. “I'm sorry pup, I really do”, Not long she heard a knock on the door, “Hello, anyone in there?” It was a familiar voice but she can't remember who it is. Chaewon tried to stand up but her body could barely move. She wanted to say something but no words came out of her mouth. “Hello, I'm looking for Kim Chaewon, is she here?” Chae realises that whoever's behind that door is trouble, but her voice, Chae could swear she knows her from somewhere.

Chaewon tried to stand up but she failed and just fell down and caused some of the empty beer bottles on the table to fall alongside her and shatter on the floor. “Hello? Is everything alright?” It wasn't, some of the glass shard hit Chae which made her let out a barely audible painful whine. “I'm coming in”, Then a loud slam can be heard from the door before it opens. From the floor Chaewon is laying on she can finally see the person that's looking for her, it was your mom. “Jesus, what happened”, Your mom immediately ran up to Chae, her mind racing with concern, and hatred for Chae's boyfriend. “Ma'am, what are you doing here?” Chae flinched when she felt the older woman's hand examining her wounds. “I'll tell you later, did your boyfriend do this to you?” Chae flinched hearing that question, it's not the first time she heard her ask that. “Fine, don't answer if you don't want to. Let's get you to the hospital”, In one swoop she grabbed Chaewon and just carried her away. Usually she'll refuse this type of help, but now you're no longer there to help you, and she's too weak to refuse so she just let herself get taken away.

Your mom lay Chaewon in the backseat of her car before she took her radio and contacted the nearest hospital. “Dispatch, this is Unit 23 responding. Requesting immediate medical assistance. One injured victim, multiple bruises, possible head injury and a few lacerations due to glass shard on her arm”, Chaewon struggled to stay awake and ultimately went unconscious again before she even reached the hospital. “Hang in there kid, my son gonna kill me if he come home to find you dead”

A few hours earlier you were waiting at the airport, hoping for Chaewon to show up and wave you goodbye. However as the time for departure was nearing Chaewon was nowhere to be seen. You text her and she didn't read it and when you finally boarded you ended up calling your mom to check on Chaewon. As you were busy worrying for her, a girl suddenly sat down next to you, “Hello, are you also here for the volunteer work?” Oh shit, Chaewon who? “Oh yes, I'm from Serenity Medical Institute, nice to meet you”, Hey maybe moving on won't be that hard after all. “Nice to meet you too, I'm Minju from the Oasis Regional Hospital”, Minju gave you a weird look when you heard where you came from.

“Serenity Medical Institute huh, I didn't know they sent anyone for this”, Seating next to a beautiful girl like her made you feel nervous yet somehow she looks more nervous than you. “I am the only one who's going”, You smile a little embarrassed. “Really? That's surprising”, Minju smiled, “Well how many people went from your hospital?” She thinks for a second, “Probably 12?” Is your hospital just very stingy? “That's a lot, I didn't expect so many people would actually be interested in doing these kinds of stuff”, Would sending 12 medical personnel cause some problem in the hospital? Wouldn't it get crippled due to the lack of personnel? “Yeah well, it's not like we're short on people, also doing this will give our hospital some subsidies that would help a lot”, Minju looked at your confused face and got confused herself.

“You get subsidies? I don't think I read that part in the application form”, Do you even read the form though? “Well yeah the form is made asking for international aid. The subsidy is our government's way to encourage the nation’s medical personnel to help”, Did they just send you for the government money? “Although I don't think Serenity would care about that type of stuff”, She was sending some jabs to you but you didn't catch it. “Really? Why do you say that?” Minju furrowed her eyebrows trying to see if you're messing with her, “Well, because it's the rich people hospital”, Your genuine confusion took Minju off guard. “Really? I never knew”, Minju stares at you for a second, “How did you get a job there?” This is a good time to point out how clueless you are at everything.

“Well, after I finished college the owner, well I think he's the owner, came to me to offer me an internship. He said he knew my father and owe him once”, Pretty sure you never met that guy again, also your mom tore you a new hole after you accepted the offer thinking it must be a scam. “See, there's almost no way for people to get in without nepotism. The place has such a service fee that most of its clients are millionaires”, Minju saw you even more confused which frustrated her. “I thought the hospital was the best hospital in the country. I mean, wouldn't that be the reason for the high price?” She clicked her tongue hearing your response.

“Yes, but also because the benefactors and clients are some of the richest people in the country. Most of the people working there have been working there for generations already. It's almost impossible for someone to start working there fresh off college. Any new recruits needs to have at least 10 years of experience in any other prestigious hospital before they have a chance for an examination by them”, You are very clueless about most things. “Huh, I never knew about that”, Minju pinched herself to see if she's hallucinating, there is no way someone is this dumb right? “What's your parents job?” Could it be, you're just a savant in the medical field that attracts their eyes? “Well, my father was a firefighter, and my mom is a cop”, That doesn't sound like a rich person's job.

“Huh, then….. Did your father save someone's life and that person happened to be a very important person?” You shrugged, seemingly not caring about that, “Maybe, I mean he died when I was a kid and mom said he saved a lot of life so maybe he saved someone important and the guy gave me a job out of gratitude?” Minju was baffled with how little shit you're giving about this. “That's…… I'm sorry about your father but do you know how lucky you are? There's people who would die to have a job at your hospital”, This rubs you the wrong way. “Why? What's the difference between your hospital and mine? I mean you and I still both save lives regardless where we work so it wouldn't matter right?” Minju was taken off guard again, you sounded so genuine with your words that she felt embarrassed for forgetting the main job of a doctor.

“You're right, sorry I didn't mean to come out as a materialistic person”, You felt guilty seeing how embarrassed she is, “Oh no don't be, I'm sorry I didn't know most of those things so thank you for telling me this”, Minju smiled at you. “You're just an innocent puppy aren't you?” Eeeehhhh, are you an actual dog? How come two beautiful and completely different girls can see you the same way like that? “I guess”, She laughed seeing you reluctantly accept her nickname. “So, since we'll be working a lot closer from now on I think this would be a perfect time to get to know each other right?” This whole thing feels nostalgic, it's a deja vu for the first time you met Chaewon.

No, I can't keep living in the past. Come on, I'm on this trip to break free of my shell. Be more confident, talk to her. Fuck what if I fall for her and it end up the same way as I did with Chae? Fuck I'm not gonna find anyone if I keep being scared.

“Of course, why don't you start first?” Minju did start first, and she also took the majority of the speaking time because you're too shy to speak up. In the middle of it you got a text from your mom informing you of Chaewon's condition. “You're okay?” Minju said after seeing you turn catatonic for a while, “Oh, yeah just, something came up”, Your voice sounds shaky and you turn around to watch out the window. Minju stays silent after realising that you're not in a talking mood, although she is curious about the situation. Moreover she's curious about you, she finds you to be pretty cute and attractive, and your innocence has some charm to it.

After a while your mom texted back informing you that Chae is stable for now and sent you her medical report. You read through it extensively, the more you read it the more you regret going on this trip. Without you there Chae would probably run back to her boyfriend after being discharged from the hospital. Well, even if you're there you won't be able to stop her from going back to him. It's like you are Sisyphus and she is your boulder, no matter how hard you try, she will always stumble down the hill into her boyfriend's arms. “Hey, you're okay there?” Minju decided to speak up seeing how distraught you've become, “Ahhh no, something came up”, Having someone to talk to would be nice, but would she care to hear a story of a complete stranger? “I don't mind listening you know, if you don't mind sharing of course”, Minju smiles at you, “Well, I have this friend, her name is Chae…….”

“Uggghhh”, A pained groan escapes out of Chaewon's mouth before she even gets to open her eyes. As she tried to sit up a hand stopped her from moving, “Take it easy now kiddo, you're still hurt”, This time she immediately recognised your mother's voice. “Ma'am, I….. where am I?” Chaewon tried to open her eyes but the room was too bright for her so she immediately closed it again. “In the hospital, you were pretty rough when I saw you”, The first thing that came up in her mind was to run, anything involving hospitals is bothersome, from the bills to the questioning she'll get. Thankfully she's well aware that your mom wouldn't let her run so easily, so she just lay back on the bed trying to regain her stamina.

After half an hour or so she is able to open her eyes and sit on the bed, looking around the place she realises where she is right now. “No, my son already left”, A quick reality check from your mom completely buried her hopes of having you delay your departure. “Why……. Why did you come to my place?” It's hard for her to look at your mom in the eyes. Unlike you, your mom has this dominating aura around her that shows she takes no shit from anyone. “My son asked me to check in on you when you didn't show up to his flight”

Oh right, I ghost him again. Fuck how can I keep messing this up?

“Listen kiddo, I never liked you. For years I've already told my clueless son that you're leading him on and he never listens. I would've confronted you but I digress because he always told me not to”, It's really jarring feeling the difference between you and your mom. Her words and piercing gaze made Chaewon shivers in her place. “And worst of all you actually push him to take a dangerous job off country just because you two can't be a grown up and talk about your feelings”, Just for the record, your mom was trying to not be overly hostile, she just came off that way. “I'm sorry”, Chae said weakly, “However, after he came to me with your notes I got a glimpse of your side of the story and, somewhat open to listen to the whole thing. Today, after I see you laying down half dead on that abuser's floor I think I understand enough”

“He's not an abuser”, Chae immediately bites back, as those words left her mouth she immediately flinched and felt scared for going against your mom. “Kiddo, I've been in this line of work for the last 25 years already. I've seen your story play out a thousand times. I promised my son that I'll keep you safe, so I'm taking you away from that whether you like it or not”, That's illegal right? “But he's not, he was just having an episode. Sometimes he just lash out, he can't help it, that's just who he is”, Chae is way too far down in her own hell to realise the exit is right in front of her. “Really? You're blaming this on his mental state?” Your mom wasn't taking any of that, “He's bipolar okay? He can't help having drastic mood swings”, He was never diagnosed, Chae just read some online article and associated him with that disorder to rationalise his sociopathic behaviour. “Blaming that maniac’s behaviour on mental disorders is an insult to the people who actually have mental disorders. Kiddo, I don't think you understand how irredeemable he is. What he did to you today is unacceptable, and if you don't want to fight for your own sake then I'll fight for you by bringing him to court”

Panic starts to set in, Chaewon can't let her do that, “He's not like that, I promise, please just give him a chance”, Seeing how pathetic Chaewon is, your mom wonders how you can enable her behaviour for so long. “Let’s have this talk in the morning. It's late and I need to get some rest. Go get some sleep, I'll be back here tomorrow morning. If I didn't see you here tomorrow morning I'm coming back to your apartment with a warrant for your boyfriend”, It's not your mom's first rodeo, she knows girls like Chae would care about her boyfriend’s feelings over her own well being. “Okay then, I'll see you tomorrow ma'am”, Not even a thank you, so rude.

Fuck why did things got so complicated now. You were always so caring but this is too much pup. Your mom is gonna be the end of me. Fuck how do I convince her to drop this, I can't let her make babe mad. I need to convince her.

How would Chaewon convince her? Well, with a stupid idea, “Are you being serious right now? You want me to talk with your boyfriend?” Downright idiotic honestly. “Please, it's just one talk. You'll see that he's not as bad as you think he is”, Your mom is absolutely flabbergasted with this request, this little girl actually wanted her to have a nice and civil discussion with an abuser? “I don't think you understand, assault and battery isn't just a civil case. The law enforcement such as myself have the right to pursue this case, you know that right?” This also means if she talks to Chaewon's boyfriend and he loses his composure your mom can use his incriminating words against him.

“Trust me just this once okay? Please?” No way in hell your mom is gonna trust Chaewon, she sees Chae as an even more clueless person than you. She wants to say pathetic but she's not heartless enough to consider her own son pathetic. “I’ll drive you back to your place, I'll ask him about what transpired yesterday and that will be it. That's all the chances he's getting”, Although honestly she does see this as an opportunity to gather more evidence. “What? I need to tell him about this first”, Chae didn't have her phone, he broke it yesterday so she can't contact him, “Tchhh, so you can warn him? No, I'll give him this one chance so I can see him being unfiltered. So get your ass up because we're leaving now”, Despair, that's what Chae feels right now.

Your mom led her to the receptionist where she signed the paper for discharge. Since you were working there she used her family member card so that Chaewon's hospital bills would be reduced to zero, and that's a good price. Throughout the ride Char can't stop herself from biting her nails, her legs are all jittery and her heartbeat is beating irregularly, she's scared out of her mind. Once they arrived back at her place she was so nervous your mom had to wake her up from her thoughts. “Ahhhhh, oh sorry, you scare me”, Chae tries to calm her breathing down while your mom is staring at her, then the latter gets out of her car prompting Chae to follow her.

Chaewon knocked on the door, after all your mom didn't exactly search around to pick up her personal things such as wallets or keys. “You do know I broke the door yesterday right? The locks haven't been fixed”, Chae blushed hearing this and just opened her door, going inside she called up for her boyfriend but there was no response. “He must be out”, There was some relief in her voice, hopefully your mom would just leave the place so she can brief her boyfriend about what's gonna happen. “That's unfortunate then-”, However Chaewon's dreams were short lived as the older woman's words were interrupted by some ruffling sounds from the bedroom followed by some footsteps.

“Who the fuck are you?” Really? That's the first thing your mom said in her mind. She's completely baffled that Chaewon would ruin her own life for someone like that. No body shaming of course, the guy was good looking, but he looks like the most generic fuckboy ever imaginable. “I'm here to talk to you, I am Officer Hwang, last night I find…….”, She trailed off letting silence fills the room. The reason for that is because a girl walks out of the bedroom he just came out from. Seeing how minimal their clothing is, it's quite easy to grasp what they were doing. “Who is this?” Chaewon's fear and anxiety is replaced with unbridled rage as if he just crosses the line. “None of your business, and why the fuck did you bring a cop here huh? Hwang? Is it that retard’s mom?” He's so eloquent, no wonder Chaewon fell for him.

“Lady her your clothes and get out”, The random girls immediately sprint back to the bedroom, “Who the fuck is she?” Chaewon screamed at her boyfriend. “Fuck you, who is this? You brought a cop here? Are you insane?” Seeing him refuse to answer, Chaewon raises her hand and slaps him. It is unprofessional to laugh at someone who's getting ‘assaulted’ but your mom can't help but crack open a smile. “Are you crazy, bitch?” The slap has taken him off guard, never in his life did he think that Chaewon would have the balls to do something like that. The random girl came out of the bedroom wearing her pants with some of her underwear being stuffed into her bag. “You were cheating on me?” Chaewon roared, she looked at the random girl and was ready to pounce on her but thankfully your mom swooped in and pulled the girl outside.

“Move, I need to talk to that bitch”, Chaewon tried to push your mom away but the latter hold firm, “I think you should deal with this one first”, She pointed at her boyfriend. “Shit fucker, look at me”, He roughly pull Chaewon's hand making her body ragdoll to the ground. “You think you're hot shit because you have a cop here?” This guy has issues, “You were fucking some random girl? AFTER YOU SNAPPED BECAUSE YOU THINK I WAS CHEATING ON YOU?” Huh, maybe Chaewon's final line is just cheating. It's impressive that he never crosses that line for the last few years. Seeing how Chaewon wasn't being a scaredy cat like usual hurts his pride, so he raises his hand to hurt her in return.

“You should stop that”, Your badass mom just grab his hand before he can slap Chae, “You fucking disgusting pig, HOW DARE YOU CHEATED ON ME”, But she didn't stop Chaewon from slapping him. “You fucking whores”, His pride really can't take this anymore and he took one of the empty bottle on the table. “I warned you”, With a bored tone your mom pulled out her taser gun and just shot fade him. Immediately he fell to the ground, the bottle thankfully didn't break and cut his skin, despite how much your mom wanted that to happen. “You asshole”, Chaewon walks to him and just kicks him in the ribs, “Alright don't do that, you're gonna get in trouble”, But her words don't reach her like usual. Chaewon tried to kick him again prompting your mom to just drag her out of the house.

“Let me go, I need to kill that bastard”, She was taken off guard seeing how Chaewon just flipped a switch out of nowhere, “Well it's better than before I guess”, She muttered before pushing Chae to her car. “Stay here for a second, I need to clean this mess”, Well at least her menacing glare is enough to stop Chae from struggling. “Here, go busy yourself while I call up the medic”, She shoved a little gift box you prepared for Chae to her lap. Chaewon immediately recognised your writing and opened it, inside is a note and she immediately read it.

Hey Chae, I was writing this note because I feel like that's just gonna be our thing from now. Let me start by saying, it hurts. Reading your notes was painful and really fuck me up. However, I do understand where you're coming from. I can't force you to like me, although I really want to, I realise it's just not possible. I guess we were both an idiot, so caught up in our feelings that we ended up hurting ourselves. I just want to say, I don't hate you, I understand where you're coming from, I really do. I hope one day when I come back home we get to sit down together and talk about this further. I hope once I get back we can have a civil and mature conversation about our friendship and other things.

However, for that to happen, I need you to still be around when I come home. Yes I helped you throughout these years because I loved you. But it would be wrong if I say that was the only reason why I helped you. I was scared for you, this relationship you had with your boyfriend isn't healthy Chae. When we first met you were this badass girl who never backed down from anything. Now you're just this vulnerable girl who is being dragged through hell because you can't let go of your feelings. You know I'm right, all your friends have given up on you already because they can't bear to watch you destroy yourself. You say something about setting me up with Kazuha yet the last time you talked to her was already 2 years ago. Chae, I'm scared, I'm really scared with the idea that you won't be alive by the time I come home. I wrote this note because I want you to let him go.

No, I wasn't saying this because I feel jealous of him, I'm saying this because I care about you. I'm on this “journey” in hope that I can let go of my feelings, in hope to “break my chains” as you put it. Now I'm asking you to break yours as well. I know you're tired of hearing these words but you're sacrificing so much just by staying with that guy. I might sound biassed, but you can get any guy in the world and you're choosing the worst option. I never thought I'd say this, but it's also hurting my pride knowing you prefer staying with an abuser rather than, me. Fuck that sounds so bad, but if you were dating some rich handsome guys I'll have my heartbreak way earlier than this and probably move on. Chaewon, you're a beautiful, talented and strong girl, you can do better than him. It hurts seeing your mental toughness that I always envied are being used just so you can tolerate him. Please, now that I'm gone I can't keep you safe any longer. For the love of god please let him go Chae. I don't want to come back home seeing you six feet underground.

I might just be beating a dead horse but I hope you can see where I'm coming from. In this box there's my apartment keys. I already pay rent for the next 4 months so you can stay there if you need to. And finally, there's a hospital card here, you can use it in Serenity and get treatment free of charge. I hope you'll never need to use it, but I also hope for a lot of impossible things. Anyway I've been rambling for too long, I hope mom didn't go too hard on you. Stay safe Chae, stay alive. I hope we can meet again once I'm back home. I'll miss you.

It took her almost 30 minutes rereading that note you left her. It all boils down to, “Chaewon your boyfriend is trash, leave him already. Here take my keys”, But she keeps rereading them hoping there's more. She needs more, she needs you to write something, anything that could comfort her. “Fuck pup, why can't I just listen to you”, But alas there's none, after all you never expect this messages to actually change her mind. It technically didn't, her boyfriend's act of crossing her line did but this note is the nail in the coffin. A certain word rings in her mind, “If only he can be more like you”, So fucking cliché, yet sometimes clichés came from real life things.

Why the fuck did I say that? You're so fucking stupid sometimes Chae. Why ask for someone to be like him when he's already available. God what have I done.

No point of crying over spilled milk, but that doesn't stop her from ruining your notes with her tears. Is this your thing now? Sending notes and soaking them with tears. “He’s not a problem anymore, just in case you're wondering”, Chaewon jumped back at her seat when she saw your mom had rejoined her back in the car. “Right”, Chae wiped her tears and put the notes back in the box, “You want to go somewhere or do you want to go back to your house?” Chae glanced back to her house. It was inherited to her after her parent's death a few years ago, it was around the time she started dating that pig. Those beautiful childhood memories, all tainted by his presence.

“No, can you take me back to your son's apartment?” It's not that your mom wants to snoop around, but she's just curious and has checked the gift before she hands it to Chaewon. “Got it”, Your mom thinks it would be a good idea for Chae to stay away from her house for now, 4 months is a pretty long time to cool down. However Chaewon had different plans, “I'll wait for you to come back pup. I can fix this, I can fix us. I'll wait for you to come back, then we can start over”, Her barely audible whispers float off to the wind. A promise for a better future, no matter what it takes.

“Babe you need to stop dozing off”, You were woken up from your daydream with a gentle touch to your shoulder. “Right, I just feel weird. I can't believe a year passed already”, Yeah, it felt like a year just passed in an instant. “Come on, don't tell me you're thinking about staying here?” Minju wrapped her arm around you, “Of course not, I'm just a little sad that I'll have to go already”, Minju smiled and gave you a kiss. “There, I don't want my little puppy to be sad anymore”, She said teasing you, “Don't call me that, please never call me that in front of other people again”, It's bad enough that she calls you that in front of her coworkers, if she pull that name in front of your friends, or even your mom, you'll die out of embarrassment.

“Heheheheh, I won't promise anything. Now come on I need your big muscular arm to help me out the bags on the truck”, Living with no reception has bore you a lot, which is why you start working out alongside the soldiers that keeps the area secure. So needless to say, you've grown into a Chad, after loading the luggage you sat down with the rest of Minju’s coworkers. “So, what are we eating once we get home?”, Jaehyun, one of Minju's coworkers, asked the group. “I want some junk food, like 10 big macs covered with cheese dips type of junk food”, “No way in hell, we're eating something fresh, I want sushi”, “I don't care what we're eating but we need alcohol. Like a lot of them”, You've been pulled to be part of their friend group, although most of the time you and Minju would just fool around somewhere else. “Let's vote then, what does everyone want?” Voting with friends is such a bad idea, “I'm down for anything”, “Yeah me too, I don't mind”, “I don't really crave anything so I'll just follow what everyone wants”, In the end Minju just pull you to the passenger truck and sit with you at the back while her friends are busy discussing.

“So, we're going to meet your mom once we land?” It's hard to communicate with the people back home, you can only send her a letter every few weeks or so. Well except last week when you were given a satellite phone to arrange yours . “Well she did say she's gonna pick me up, so maybe we can have dinner with her after”, You haven't really told your mom about Minju so you're kinda nervous, “I don't think I'm down for thay babe. It's a 10 hour flight and I would rather go home and have a good long bath. Maybe we can have dinner tomorrow night”, Thankfully she rejected the dinner. “Guess you're right, I'm sure mom also wants to ask me about what I did for the last year”, It would be awkward to tell your mom that you actually got shot here. “Yeah, don't die okay baby”

“I told you you're gonna get shot”, You're like an inch away from getting shot by her out of frustration. “But mommmm, it was just an accident, some stray bullet from the soldier's training”, They even send you money for the inconvenience, or to shut you up. “Haaaaaa, I'm really this close to losing it. You didn't think about telling me in one of those letter you send me?” This is certainly a welcoming party, “ I'm sorry, I didn't want to make you worry”, She sighed and just shook her head. “Mom, where's Luna?” You tried to change the topic, “With Chaewon, that fat fuck want to stay at your apartment over here”, You raised your eyebrow in confusion, “Chae still living at my place?”

Your mom does send you some update about her in the first few months, most of it just saying how Chae is getting better and has been reconnecting with her friends. “You should go there and talk to her”, Right, the long awaited reunion is due, “I should, tomorrow we're having dinner with Minju so I guess I could come over now”, Time zone difference fuck you up because you left around sunset and arrive back at your home around 8 AM, which isn't fun. “I can drop you off at your place if you get ready right now”, As you took a shower you can't help but feel nervous. For the last year you didn't really try to reach out to Chae and your mom didn't say anything if Chae tried to reach out to you. Going back to the living room you immediately noticed how tight your outfits has become. “That usually happens when you build up muscle darling. You should go and get some new clothes”, You remember Minju said she is a shopaholic so you made a plan to do a shopping run later with Chae. Just as a friendly reunion right? Right?

“Congratulations on your promotion by the way mom”, You pull out a gift for her, “Ohhh? What's this? The bullet that they took out of your body?” Damn that would actually be a pretty good gift for her. “Uhhh no, it's just a knife one of the refugees gave me”, Without hesitation she ripped open the box and pulled out a pristine military knife. “Ohhhh, good job darling, I'll put this on my desk”, She smiles happily before strapping the knife into her waist. “Now come on, I'm gonna be late”

You stand in front of your door, feeling anxious and nervous. If any of your neighbours see this they're probably gonna be weirded out since you’re just standing there for 5 minutes. Suddenly the front door clicked open and you saw Chaewon. She was going out and she bumped into you, “Sorr-.......” The two of you just stare at each other silently. The first thing you noticed is how healthy she looks, her cheeks are no longer hollow, her skin isn't sagging, she looks better. “Hey Ch-” Chae jumped to hug you before you finished your sentence, “It's you, you're home”, Even her strength is back, enough to suffocate you. “Chae, calm down for a second”, But she doesn't want to calm down, “You're back, you're really back, I miss you so much”, Chae hugged you even harder without any intentions of letting go.

“Chae let's not do this in the hallway”, She suddenly felt your arm wrapped around her body and picked her up with ease. It was at this moment that she noticed you don't feel so scrawny anymore. “You've grown”, She let go of the hug as you closed the door behind you, her eyes travelling all over your body. “Yeah well, I got a lot of free time there”, Your cheeks turn red as Chaewon shamelessly feels up your arms. “Meow”, Luna walked out of the bedroom and the moment she saw you she immediately ran to your leg. “Hey there Luna, did you miss me”, You picked her up and she immediately purred in your familiar embrace again.

“Well come here take a seat. Don't be a stranger in your own apartment”, Chae smiles and pulls you to sit down on the couch. Looking around you notices she has done a few furnishings, the place still looks familiar, yet there's some of her touch painting the whole apartment. “You like it? I don't want to change too much but I feel like your previous decorations were kinda bland”, Is her snarky remark making a return as well? “Well the place does look less grey”, Chaewon sits closer to you, “So, how was your trip? Come on tell me everything”, She leaned towards your arm and rested her head on your shoulder.

“It's a long story, weren't you just leaving to go somewhere?” Bering with Minju for a while you've grown immune to women's advances due to how flirty she was. “I was just about to get some breakfast. Have you eaten anything yet? We can order some food”, Chae notices your lack of embarrassment and it makes her, happy. “Well I ate some airplane food earlier, so I wouldn't mind going out for some actual good food”, Luna let out a growl as if she understands that you're leaving already. “Come on let's just eat here, I want to hear everything that happened to you”, Chae pinched your cheek as she leaned even closer to you.

“Come on let's go out Chae, I also need some help. I actually gained some weight and my old clothes are getting too tight for me. Can you help me do some clothing runs?”, A date, Chae is ecstatic that you wanted to have a date with her the moment you return. “Yesssss, let's go then”, She stood up and pulled your hand, “Hahahaha, sorry Luna you're gonna have to wait for me again”, Luna let out a protest meow before jumping off your lap. “She's gonna be fine, let's go pup, it's shopping time”, Surely Chaewon won't take the whole day to help you get some new clothes.

“So you were actually shot? Like with a real bullet?” Chae is filled with concern hearing your story, “Yeah, it was just a ricochet so it's not that deep but it still hurts”, Don't cut off the fun part, tell her you cried like a baby as they tried to stop your bleeding. “That's terrible, I swear to god I'll kill that idiot who dares to shoot you”, It pisses her off, she could've lost you because some stupid drill. “It's fine, I was too close to the training yard anyway”, You can't help but smile seeing her angry face. It reminds you of the time when she used to get angry every time someone tried to pick on you. “Tchh, I'm only letting it go because you're safe and you got a cool scar from it”, Chaewon continued looking at your arm, rather, your bicep.

“Yeah, it does look cool”, You trailed off as you checked your messages that Minju had sent you. Chae furrowed her eyebrows seeing you've been busy chatting with someone on your phone throughout this breakfast. She wants to know who's making you smile and what those texts are, but she refrains for now. “Well I hope your feets are ready, we're giving you a makeover”, She'll ask you about those texts later, after all she has all the time in the world with you.

The shopping was hellish, Chaewon keeps pulling you to every clothing store there is and has you tried every single piece of clothing she can find. Then to top it off you had to bring all the luggage yourself. Well you don't have to, but you don't want to make her carry it so you just swallow the pain and move on. “Chae can we stop here? I think this is enough'', Chae does notice your suffering but she can't help herself to dress up her boyfriend. “Alright, let's put it back at our place, we can order some food for lunch”, Our place? You're gonna say something about that? “Our-”, Unfortunately your phone rings before you can ask it.

“I need to answer this call first, can you order a cab for us?” Now, Chae is not exactly a nosy person, but she feels irritated with how much you were on your phone during this date. “Fine”, She doesn't want to make a scene so she'll just frown as she watches you walk a way to answer your call. “Hey babe , I was thinking that maybe we can grab some lunch? Or are you still dealing with jet lag?” Minju said, “I'm outside right now, having a reunion with Chaewon”, A little slither of guilt can be heard in your voice as you felt bad for refusing your girlfriend’s invitation. “Oh well, did everything go well?” She doesn't mind though, “Yeah, I think we're having a good day so far. I'm kinda happy seeing her revert to her old self. Although I think I would rather have her tone down her occasional jab. Physical jab, she's one of those people who like to playfully punch you and it hurts”, You hear Minju laughed out loud at your complaints. “Oh no, my poor baby can't take a woman's punch? Even with all those muscles?” PSA: Domestic violence is not a joke, please seek professional help if you or someone you know are dealing with one.

“Hey listen she's not your average girl okay? She used to be the badass tomboy who beat up guys bigger than him. Besides you should see her biceps, they're huge”, Chaewon can't hear you but she is certainly not happy with the smiles that's forming on your face. “I would love to, is this an invitation for me to join your reunion?” Ahhhh shit, what did you just do? “Well”, You look back at Chae and are surprised seeing her hostile glare, “Maybe not today”, You're not sure why she's mad but you think it's best not to ask it for now. “Well, hopefully I can meet her soon. I'll see you tomorrow okay babe? Pick me up for the date please, you can buy some used car with the money they gave you for the bullet wounds”, You can't concentrate on what she's saying and hurriedly end the call before walking to Chaewon.

“The cab will be here soon”, Oh no, she's using her cold angry voice again, “O-okay”, The two of you awkwardly stand there waiting for the cab. Throughout the whole ride Chaewon was looking out the window trying to calm herself down. However the moment she hears you typing on your phone she immediately turns to you and lets out a vicious glare. Feeling your life might be in danger you put down your phone. Anxiousness starts to rise within you, it's not the first time you see her this mad but it's still terrifying.

What the fuck did I do now? Chae only got this mad when I did something stupid and hurt myself. Think Mark, think. Whatever it is, I should try to apologise once we get home.

The two of you silently walk back to your apartment, as soon as you walk in you hear Chaewon slam the door behind you. “Put it there”, She pointed at the floor, you obediently put down the groceries trying to find words to calm her down and inquire on what you did wrong. “Who was it?” Her voice, cold and piercing just like her eyes, “Who was what?” That's not an answer, so she walks towards you and pushes you to the wall. “Who were you talking to on the phone? The whole day you were busy talking with someone. Throughout our fucking date you were just chatting with someone else. Do you not respect me at all? Your girlfriend is in front of you yet you were busy with whoever it was in your phone”, Alright, what the fuck?

Let's break this down, first she doesn't like you talking to someone, which is understandable since it was pretty rude to be busy with your phone while you're hanging out with someone else. Then she says date, you didn't think it was a date, friendly date possibly but isn't that just a hangout? Lastly, girlfriend, this one actually takes you out of it. Hearing her referring to herself as your girlfriend is not something you ever thought you'll hear. This time, after a year of spiritual journey, you actually don't want to hear her say that.

“Chae?” Seeing that you're not answering she just digs her nails into your arm. “ANSWER ME. Who was it? And don't fucking lie to me”, Her voice echoes throughout the whole room, yet it feels so distant, as if this whole thing is just a dream to you. “That's…. I…. I was talking to my girlfriend”, Chae was about to scream back saying you weren't talking to her enough, then she realised you weren't referring to her. “Your. Girlfriend?” Her face contorted as she spat those words, “I guess I haven't mentioned her yet. Her name is-”, Your words are interrupted by her slap.

"Girlfriend?" she spat, her voice laced with disbelief that morphed into a chilling possessiveness. "Don't lie to me, babe. You're mine. You've always been.”, Words are stuck on your throat, after years of following her shadow with the hope of getting a whiff of her warmth you managed to get it at the worst possible time. The name ‘babe’ rings like a distant lullaby, those words that you crave from her felt like venom to you now. “Chae when I was there I got close with Minju. We-”, Her hand flies quickly to grab your mouth, silencing your words that's about to break her delusion. “No, that's not right at all babe. I see now, you're confused and tired. Serving there must've been very tiring for you babe. You were just homesick and miss me, yeah let's get you some rest babe”

Chae leaned and kissed your cheek, yet her eyes are challenging you to refute her words. “No, Chae I have-”, The second slap was much more painful than the first one, because this time she put her back on it. “Baby I really think you're just tired, come on let's get you to your bed. You must've missed sleeping on your bed right? I'll accompany you, we can eat lunch later”, Chae grabbed both of your hands, tugging them for you to follow her to the bedroom. “No Chae, she's real. Minju is very lovely you'll like her”, This whole situation was so odd for you that you're also in denial of Chaewon's transformation.

Chaewon's eyes narrow, trying to pierce through your skull to inspect your mind, then a humourless laugh escapes her mouth. “I see now, you had a rebound girl while you were away. I don't think I appreciate that babe, but for now let's get you to rest. I can punish you after you get some sleep”, The room was silent as if it was waiting in horror to see your next move. “No Chae……. I love her. I love Minju”, Your muscles stiffen, trying to brace for her next slap. Yet it never came, there was only silence. “Love her?”

Alright, stop denying, you know what's happening right now. “Chae I-”, You were once again interrupted by her, this time with her lips that aggressively crashed into yours and sealed it shut. This is it, the dream you've always wanted to achieve, a kiss from the girls that has held your heart for years now. Yet the kiss brought a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. On one hand, it ignited a dormant flame within you, a spark of the yearning you'd harboured for Chae for years. The warmth of her lips, the familiar scent of her hair, it all felt like a dream come true, a gift from god for all the good things you've done. On the other hand the sweetness was quickly tainted by the bitter reality. Your heart, now entwined with Minju's, ached with guilt and betrayal. This wasn't supposed to happen. Chae had friend-zoned you, leaving you to move on and build a new life. This sudden shift, this desperate claim of ownership, it sent your mind reeling.

Is this the Chae you know? The one who has explicitly told you that the two of you can never work? Or was that Chae a fake one? You've never heard those words outside the notes she left you. Perhaps those notes are just her denial of the feelings she actually had for you. Denial that was hidden by the guilt she had for using you all this time? Is this confusion you're having is just a pathetic rationalisation for your own feelings for her? Was Minju truly just a rebound girl? Did you leave your heart here with Chae this whole time and only notice it now that you're back with her?

So many questions yet no answer. You didn't try to think of an answer, after all there's a fight going on within you right now. Your body has been yearning for these moments and responded instinctively. Your heart screaming with protest as it was being torn apart by the guilt you harbour for Minju. Each agonising second felt like an eternity. You wanted to pull away, to break free from this confusing entanglement. Yet with each second passing Chae's grip tightened, her kiss becoming desperate, almost pleading. It was like witnessing a damsel in distress, someone drowning in a sea of their own obsession, and a part of you, the part that once loved her fiercely, wanted to save her.

“Haaaaa”, Finally she broke the kiss, her head pressing against yours, her hand still tightly gripping on to your collar. Her eyes are filled with ecstasy, she's in a trance, for a moment you wonder if this is what you would look like if she kissed you before you left. “You're mine babe, you're mine and mine alone”, A hushed whisper can be heard flowing out of her mouth. The kiss, it was a culmination of all the obsession and longing she has for the last year. Your absence in her life was a hellfire for her loneliness, forging her into this, thing. Day by day her longing got more and more intense until it slowly turned into a need. Now that you're here those feelings only become more intense, like a sword that has finished sharpening and ready to be used.

While she was lost in the vortex of her own emotions you finally connected the dots. Despite her rejection she has explicitly said that she has special feelings for you. A love that was strong in every way but romantically. However it would change once she finally broke free of her chain, of the collar her boyfriend has put on her. Lost, confused, exiled, her only source of hope was you. After all her friend left her the only person she can rely on was you. Yet you were already gone, left to find your own love. Of course, that's why she is still here, living in your apartment with the thought that you two can reconcile after you return. Funny how life works, Chaewon finally has the same feeling you've been ‘hiding’ from her for years just right after you lost those feelings.

“You know you love me babe. Whoever that Minju girl is, she's irrelevant. We belong together, and I'm so sorry that I hurt you for so long. I promise I'll make it up to you. Just be patient okay babe, after all we have our whole life to be together. Nothing can separate us anymore, I love you”

“I-”, NO!

Your mind managed to take control of your body before you answered her. “I...” Chaewon smiles thinking you were just too shy to say it back. “Chae, it's too late”, Desperately you tried to bury back those feelings, you can't hurt Minju, and for some reason there's this voice warning you that whatever Chae is feeling right now, it's dangerous. “Baby, you know how much you hurt me by saying that”, Her face formed a disappointed frown as her tone turned sour, her eyes turned glassy as if she was about to burst into tears. “I can't Chae, I'm sorry”, It hurts seeing her like this as well, you never thought you'd make her cry by rejecting her.

“You don't mean that pup, I can see it in your eyes. You didn't move on and I know it. You have loved me for years already, how can you just let go of all those feelings in just one year”, Her vulnerable tone and pained expression was nothing but a calculated move. Loyalty and charity, those are your two strong suits, and she knows acting hurt and vulnerable would be an easy way to change your mind. “I….. I can't Chae”, She also knows, despite your physical growth, mentally you wouldn't even hurt a fly.

“Why are you lying to me pup? I can feel your body is calling for me”, Her hand slips inside your sweater. As her cold and slender fingers feel up your abs you can't help but feel like the inside of your stomach is twisting. This is all you ever wanted yet it terrifies you. “You've grown pup, I like it”, With inhuman strength she just ripped apart your flimsy sweater. “Chaewon no”, You try to stop her, your mind does, but your body is much more honest. “Did she do this to you?” Chae pressed her finger towards the hickey you had on your collarbone, “Chae stop this”, You pleaded again, but your words aren't coming through to her. “I'll hide it babe, I'll hide it with my make so you'll forget that whore”, Chae leaned in and bite on your collarbone.

The pain, you're not even sure if it was physical or emotional. Out of all the way that you could have her you never expected that it would be done through, rape. Is this rape? Do you truly hate this? “Who was that?” Your phone buzzed making Chaewon stop her marking session. “I-”, She didn't bother waiting for your answer before rushing through your pocket and finding your phone. The name Minju was written on the screen showing she just texted you something. “Forget about her”, Chae throws away your phone before diving back to your shoulder.

I don't want this. I don't want this at all.

You pushed her away but it was so weak she barely moved. “Stop doing that”, She mumbles as she continues biting you. “Chae stop this please”, You push her again but this time you managed to put some power into it. She doesn't budge, her teeth still hooked into your flesh refusing to let you go. “Chaewon stop”, Finally raise your voice, she stops biting you yet her body is still pressing you to the wall. “Baby, I need you to stop playing so hard to get okay? I know you want this”, Come on tell her no, tell her she's wrong. “See, you need to stop lying to me”, Her hand caressed your bulge, “I know you more than you know yourself”, She whispered in your ear.

Do I actually want this? Was I overreacting when I call this rape? Chaewon would never do that. She's a kind and loving person. She would never do anything to hurt me. Right?

She fucking gaslight you so easily? “My god, you're so big baby”, You glanced down and realised Chaewon was already kneeling in front of you, your pants already pulled down exposing your cock. “Chae”, She smiles, your tone is much more meek now, she knows she got you by the, well, balls. “It's okay babe, I'll be gentle”, Her slender fingers gently wrapped around your cock as her lips kissed your tip. Your body shivers with the sensation, her gentle touch was enough to make you leak some precum. Chaewon smiles proudly, “I'm flattered babe, you've been missing me too right?” Her tongue sticks out and licks your tip.

The more she licks the more you leak out. Her hand starts stroking you as she licks your cock like a lollipop, savouring the taste of your precum. Not long after that she kissed your tip again before pushing it into her mouth. “Ohhh fuck”, You moan, her mouth was too small for it and despite her best effort she can only go halfway. Feeling defeated she pulls away before spitting onto your shaft, her hand continues stroking and coats your cock with her saliva. If she can't take all of your length she will be creative. So as her head bobs up and down her hand jerks you off with the lubricant she just applied. Wet sloppy noise echoes throughout the room, accompanied by the sounds of your grunt and moans.

“Chae, fuck”, Feeling your cock starts to throb she got even more intense. Her hand and head go in sync as she tries to milk you. “Chae, I'm cumming”, Your hips buckled forward forcing Chae to choke on your cock as you unload down her throat. The sensation of your thick and warm cum travelling down her throat gives Chae a sense of victory. Her eyes never leave yours for a second and she watches every single emotion you went through this whole time. She knows, you can't run from her.

“You taste so good babe”, She moaned once she pulled out your cock. Then she just let it rest on top of her small and pale white face, a view so arousing yo8r body starts screaming for round two. “Chae, I-”, It only took five seconds and your guilt already came back, this displeases her. “Come here baby, let's continue this in our bed”, She stood up and grabbed your hand. Now that your mind is clear, the post nut clarity should help you make your decision. Should you run now? Or should you just let yourself fall deeper into this, abyss.

“Come on babe”, Realising you're second guessing yourself, Chaewon grabbed your hand using both of her own while using her cute and innocent face. She hates to do this, she really does, because right now she's using a strategy that her ex used on her. “I……” Yet seeing you falter made her happy, there's always a silver lining in everything. Right now, she won't mind personifying her ex’s attitude if it means she gets to make you stay with her. “Hehehehehe, come on let's do a quick one babe, we can have lunch after this”, With one pull she managed to crumble down your common sense. So you follow her, right into the dragon's nest. Inside your room you can see it's pretty much the same. The only difference was her makeup and dirty clothes that filled up the room. “I don't want to change too much, after all I want you to go back home to a familiar sight”, She smiles before pushing you to the bed. Chaewon takes off her skirt before jumping on to you. She pushes your erect cock into her stomach, “Look babe, you're gonna split me in half with this monster”

Seeing how quiet you are, Chae just takes off her top before leaning towards you. “Don't be shy babe, I know you've been dreaming for this moment for years now”, Her hand pulls yours into her breast, “Feel it babe”, She whispered in your ear. Overtaken by lust, your hand gently squeezed her tits making her moan, “Yeah baby, just like that. Don't be shy anymore okay? I know you like this as much as I do”, Chae raises her waist and aligns your cock with her wet entrance. “I love you”, And with that she lowers her waist, struggling to take your cock. “Fuck”, You grunted feeling how tight she is, “It hurts so much babe”, She moaned before leaning into your neck. “You're really gonna split me apart”, Her breath has become shaky as she continues pushing more of you into her.

“Chae”, You whispered, “Yeah baby? Do you like it?” She bites your ear, “Take it slow” Oh no. “Hehehehehe, I'm not fragile you know”, Hearing your submission gave her a new source of energy. Her lips crashed on to yours as both of her hands hugged your head, not letting you move. As she managed to take your full length she didn't bother to rest a little and start moving. “I'll get used to this babe, I promise. We're made for each other, you and I”, She moans while her lower body is screaming in agony, but she couldn't care less. Her mind was already overtaken by lust, all those sleepless nights from missing you has caused her to have so much pent up stress. “Fuck Chae, calm down for a second”, You moaned feeling how aggressive she has become.

“No baby, you have no idea how much I miss you”, Chae presses her head against yours, you can see her eyes are filled with nothing but madness. “Those sleepless nights, all those times I woke up in the middle of the night, dreaming that you'll be there with me on our bed. Now you're back baby, and I will show you, just how much I've been missing you, how much I needed you”, She rode you even faster, making you let out a moan. “Yeah, do you like it baby? Do you like my pussy”, Chae whispered in your ears, “Grab my ass baby, I know you've always liked them”, She said before she started kissing you again.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Your hand reached down to grab her ass cheek. The first thing you noticed was how soft and smooth her skin feels, and as you squeeze them you find yourself enjoying the firmness of it. “Do you like it baby?” Chaewon moaned, “I….. do”, Chae smiled hearing your words. “Well don't be shy, use me however you like babe”, Her words are way too potent for you, “Fuck, Chae I'm about to-” Feeling your cock throbbing inside her Chae closed your mouth with her hand. “No baby, you need to hold it in”, Your eyes give her a protesting glare as Chae continues riding you. “I know it's your first time, baby, but I need you to be strong”, She loves seeing your panicked face thinking that you are having a hard time holding it in, but then you open your mouth. “It's not my first time”, Her waist sits on you as she stops moving, her eyes clearly filled with hatred.

“My baby, my innocent baby boy was corrupted by that WHORE?” Chae wanted to scream at you, to slap you for allowing yourself to get used by some whore. “Haaaaa, that bitch, I won't let her get close to you ever again”, But then she continued moving again, “Chae?” You on the other hand are struggling to hold your ejaculation, god knows what she's gonna do if you fail to follow her commands. “I guess it would be selfish for me if I wanted you to stay virgin. But that's okay right babe? Even if it's not our first time, what matters is that from now on we will only do this with each other”, Chae finds her rhythm back, riding you aggressively. Slowly the feelings turns into torture for you, “Chae I really need to-, Fuck”, Everytime you begged her she would just bite your chest, “You can hold om just a little more right babe? I want to finish with you so wait for me a little more baby”, Chae gives you a cute pouting expression, completely contrasting how her lower body is riding you like an animal.

“Fuck Chae, please?” You whined again, this time you lost control of your face making it contort into a pathetic pleading expression. “Haaaaa, you look so cute like that”, Of course this whole thing is about the power play with Chae. She loves seeing you struggle and suffer just so you can please her. “Chae please?” you whined, “Call me babe”, Chae feels her orgasm is building up as well. “Babe, let me cum please?” Oh yeah, she's awakening a new kink right now, “Tell me you love me”, She whispered in your ears. “I love you babe”, You can feel Chae start shaking, “Tell me you'll leave that whore for me”, Last change bucko, will your rational mind return? “I will leave her for you babe, I love you”, Guess not.

“Haaaaa, then cum baby, cum inside me. Fill me up with your love please”, Hearing your total submission sends her over the edge. As your cum starts to shoot inside her, Chae kisses you again, desperately biting onto your lips as she's also having her orgasm. Your mind went blank for a moment as it short-circuited. “Haaaaa, haaaaa, haaaaa, welcome back baby, I love you”, Chae kissed your cheeks as the two of you were catching your breath. “Can you, get off me Chae?” She shakes her head, “Call me babe okay? I'm your girlfriend now so I need you to call me your baby from now on”, On top of that she kinda likes having your dick inside her. “Baby, can you get off me?” But of course, being the perfect girlfriend she will do anything to please you.

You tried to stand up when she got off of you but her hand immediately grabbed onto yours. “Where are you going?” Her voice filled with annoyance and a tiny hint of threat. “I need to wash up”, Her smile came back as she stood up with you, “Then let's have a shower together, I'll clean you babe”, She wrapped her arm around yours and pulled you to the bathroom. Once the two of you finished the shower Chae pulled you back to the bathroom and cuddled up with you. Her head rests on top of your shoulder as her finger is drawing around on your chest.

Now, how do you deal with this situation? Would you pick her over Minju? Or would you come clean to Minju that you just cheated on her. Your mind wanders around to the countless times you spend the night with Minju. Her warmth, her smile, her….. love, do they feel the same as what Chaewon is doing to you? Those memories hit you like a truck, alongside it are the guilt that just tearing you apart. Looking down at Chae, you see her smile at you before moving on to caress your hair. It really does feel like a fever dream, having her like this with you. Maybe it was a sign, Chaewon is just a dream and Minju is the reality?

Your conflicted expression doesn't escape Chae, she knows that you're having second thoughts again. It pisses her off, but she doesn't want to push you too much, after all her ex tends to use a much more delicate approach when she's being, defiant. “Baby, I feel so tired right now. You really did a number on me you know?” She wrapped her arm around you, caressing your cheek and pulling your head closer to hers so she can kiss the other one. It feels wrong, her touch, this all feels so, artificial. You stay quiet, trying to organise your mind. Chae sighed before she cuddled up closer to you, “Let's get some rest baby. You said you just got off the plane this morning right? Get some sleep baby, I'll order us food for later”, Her leg wrapped around your waist. You of course managed to read between the lines, “You are not leaving here”

“Meow”, Luna? Where did that little shit throughout all this? “Come here Luna”, Chae said, Luna jumps up onto your bed and comfortably snuggles into Chaewon's torso. Huh, that's weird, is this an omen? Chae looks at your bewildered face and starts letting Luna, “I told you I'll make her enjoy my cuddles” And I'll do the same to you, babe.

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