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controld3vil · 4 months ago

Text

i'll hex you, i'll possess you

pairing(s): aegon ii targaryen x wife!reader, aemond "one eye" targaryen x reader (unrequited/one sided)

synopsis: Your husband is gone. He perished in whatever was left of the battle, seared flesh, and dragon’s tar. As unbearable as it was, you fight for his throne against his brother. Believing it is for his for the taking.

notes: mentions of s02ep05, i fr feel so bad for aegon :( also cw: hints of obsessed!aemond (bc he's insane :D)

In quite a haste, you sped past all the onlookers like flies. They were nonexistent in your peripherals, your attention was entirely up ahead to the King’s chambers, the Kingsguards who stood by. Your Grace, they would say before allowing you passage past their protection. You took a glimpse, here in the dressing room for the King. Your King.

“Your Grace!” The seamstress chirped, turning to greet your lovely smile. And your righteous presence everywhere you went. It affected all now that you were the face of King’s Landing. It’s a hefty duty, yes, however, it seemed many subjects were willing, if not encouraged, of your subsequent role as the consoling figure for the realm to look to.

In front of a tall mirror was Aegon, in full Valyrian armor. You’d guessed the armor was passed down through his ancestral line, ancient, and beautiful it was kept. All the plates fit him perfectly with little alterations to adjust. Yet absent of the signature helmet paired with it, his blonde hair lay just above his shoulders, gently.

Ever so kind were your visage toward the King. You could feel the corners of your lips curve warmly at the sight of him. He was handsome and eager to appease the people of his kingdom. Though he may not be the first choice for Throne, you knew he was trying his best to uphold the responsibilities and burden those must bear. You would have to bear it as well if you were Queen.

“Good morrow,” You breathed, flattening the wrinkles of your dress as an excuse to eye at Aegon, openly. There was nothing to hide, simply it was different from his normal attire. In armor, in all of your lifetime, you never had to experience warfare, for better or worse.

“Ah, my lovely wife!” In exclamation, your husband turns to compliment your captivating smile as he gleams contentedly. He takes a few steps down from the small stairway from the miniature podium, while some of his personal Kingsguard can be heard snickering. Which you wholeheartedly ignored as your attention laid straight to your King’s beaming face. “Just who I wanted to see!”

“I must speak with you,” Through your expressed delightfulness, the tone of your voice is quickly replaced with a sour one. And it seemed to have caught the attention of the seamstress and others in the room as they all paused at your subtle notion of privacy. “Alone.” Only when you mention it, it’s as though they were a flock of birds, all fleeing from the chambers at once. A few clatters and suddenly the doors were quietly slammed shut with a whisper of a demand.

However, your husband did not seem fazed at all. He merely shrugged, casually walking to fill a cup or two with wine. Yet a visible glower can be caught right after he steps off the podium and to the table of beverages. Sometimes his reaction to your urgency was comedic. The King was never one to take duties earnestly. It’s one of his eminent flaws that all of the townsfolk and servants knew of. His days by the Silk Roads were but a regular story. But now, he is a changed man, Aegon thinks. They’ve witnessed all of his mistakes and tourneys. He’s young and has never been as interested in duty as his siblings. And now suddenly, he was pulled onto the seat as King. And you would have to sit beside him and watch. As a graceful symbol yet mute on what to say on any matter.

How horrendous was that?

“What troubles you, my sweet?” The sound of liquid plops as all of the noise from the outside world becomes muffled. For the past few days, it has been the most chaotic and tragic period of your life. Not just for you and Aegon, but everyone in King’s Landing. Your son, Jaehaerys, was left for dead at the hands of a murderer and false ruler. Panic was running through the streets of Flea Bottom. People questioned the King’s cruel punishment of the rat catchers though Aegon did not care for their grief.

To you, it was more than sadness. But anger and confusion, all of your pent-up emotions ever since living in King’s Landing have made you become this way. The Capital has changed you. To who you were as a person and figure of nobility. Now you were suddenly the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, yet only moments ago, you were the princess of the firstborn son of the King. You should have expected war to come between siblings over the throne, yet your father persisted that the marriage would’ve led to success. Having lost your child, your son, made the promise to communicate more to Aegon. To somehow seek solace in the empty void of your heart in whatever left the world had.

“You named Ser Criston Cole your Hand…” You mumbled slowly, the last words faded out into thin air. Was he wrong to do so? You did not want to say. For the little you knew about the battle being played at hand, you knew Aegon’s impulsiveness would come to the cost of many. Especially of the Council when they have refused relentlessly his thoughts and suggestions. So perhaps this decision would cause more upbringing for the noblemen to bleat about. “Why?”

A muffled sound and then a snort comes out of his mouth as Aegon proceeds to sip his wine. As if not a care of the world or your concern over the matter. “And why does this concern you?”

He does the courtesy to hand you your cup, as you clasped it eagerly to swallow whatever worry your heart must feel. The Queen Regent, Aegon’s brother, Aemond, and even Criston Cole, all look for you in the guidance you have over their King. You’ve yet to make it clear that you don’t control him like many others would consider to do. You’d think it's heartless to manipulate a man of his feelings, especially your husband.

Eventually, you lay the cup down, trailing your finger around the outer details of the golden goblet. It’s glimmering through the sun, carefully designed with outlines of a dragon and flames that surround the jugular of the base of the cup. It curves and twists under your palm as you proceed to swirl the liquid inside and watch as a mini typhoon is formed.

“Do you believe your decision on making him Hand was just?” You lift your gaze to be met with his bright purple eyes. It always seemed intense and vivid in color whenever his attention was on you. As if you were the only person that mattered in the room. And if not at this moment.

You looked ravishing, decorated in his house colors with pops of gold from the jewelry and headwear. You had no shame in exemplifying wealth because he would give you everything willingly. No matter the cost or debt, every piece of gold, and diamond was meant to be yours. He watches as your golden droplet earrings jingle when you shake your head, contemplating your next words. “Because I do not think that was the wisest decision to be made, husband.”

“And, care to explain why?” Like every little piece of his childhood, Aegon looks at every objective like a game. Though he looked like he was trying to resist your hesitancy for his new Hand, he was staring into space at the glorious jewels that make your figure and face pop out more.

You urged, before meeting the King by the tableside where the pitcher lay. “He is a warrior, not a politician,” You set your goblet aside, to look your husband in the eye more closely. “He does not know the ways of the people, especially those who he surrounds himself with. He was born lowborn, making him more naive than aware of tellings.”

Yes, you make great points, he would say if you did not have that adorable scowl on your face. Aegon would admit, he was getting drunk by the minute. And your presence did not help in his regard to be sober. Regardless, he does take account of your calls, more than most that surround himself with. Everyone at the Council is eager to spout their plans and news, it makes him deaf to the ear when they have nothing to contribute when he suggests something. Nevertheless, you at least are supportive of his thoughts. Despite your constructive nature, he appreciates and craves your attention.

Your King hums, drowsily and that was when you knew his mind was somewhere else. You would admit, you too were becoming tipsy with alcohol. After the morning Council meeting, you rather have your head hung outside with ratcatchers at the mess of the Council. You glance at his attire once more and this time, he catches you. He sees you, the way your doe eyes wander up and down his figure. He rarely has a chance to wear dragon armor like this.

“Distracted, are we?” His breath immediately inches away from yours. And the scent of strong alcohol stings. You’re so accustomed to it, that you’re surprised you would still rebuke the scent of it. Apart from that, the look Aegon gives you makes your heart weak. His smile is sluggish but pulls you in like a serpent in water. It’s alluring and hypnotizing, the way his focus wanders in all of you, and the same for him. You can’t help but wonder if the work of the armor was tricked. And you let your desires plunder when you trace his breastplate armor. Of the harsh outlines it’s supposed to represent dragon scales. It’s majestic and divine, fit for a king.

Almost timidly, your husband giggles at your touch. He separates a stray hair from your cheek, allowing leeway more into your personal space. You can’t feel automatically embarrassed if someone were to barge in. Because anyone could, the seamstress, Kingsguard, or worse, his mother.

“Wear that armor more often and perhaps you’ll receive more than indecent staring,” A mischievous grin forms as again another jingle of your golden jewelry. Gods, you’re enticing and coy. Had he mentioned that? More than once.

The first time you were at Court, it was a spur of surprise. Not only had you arrived with Prince Aemond unannounced, but Aegon encouraged it. You would suspect the disapproving faces of the men, especially coming from the King’s Hand and grandsire. How he ploys and plots with every citizen of King’s Landing to do his bidding. To save the Realm, of course, more to have the most influence in the city. You were aware of what he thinks of you. An obedient and dainty princess. The Queen and wife to the King should have no right to speak of politics.

And yet here you were.

“You do not have a seat in this Council,” Queen Regent, Alicent urges, gazing at her second son with slight apprehension. In doubt, she feels a quick quiver of fear the moment Aemond strides past the Council table. When it came to you, Alicent could only muster a poor glance. The one-eyed prince proceeds towards the map of Westeros that stands beside the King. He strides in confidence, abruptly ignoring every piercing stare bestowed on him. Other than him, you reached towards the seat at the opposing side of your King, hand delicately trailing down the handles of the chair.

“Aemond is my closest blood and our strongest sword. I welcome him,” Aegon lay unfazed at the subtle shocked expressions on everyone’s faces. “As for my wife, I think it should be customary for her to be by my side even in Council. As my father has allowed you to do for him, remember mother?” A playful grin, all-knowing of his lightheartedness, and carelessness of what others thought of his decisions. Surely his mother would be the most understanding, bestowing the same position many years ago when King Viserys was dealt ill and immobile. Shouldn’t the Queen beside her King as should they in every instance?

Alicent is silent in her displeasure. There was no reason to refute the King’s wishes and sometimes made you appreciative of Aegon’s power and status. Being King was a risky position however it offered you more freedom and the ability to speak your mind more often than not. Your husband was the cause of this leverage for the most part. You expected the Queen Dowager to give you any kind of sign of comfort except there was none. Only but a forgotten thought and you were dismissed.

It fills you with dismay, a small black hole for where her approval was meant to be. For the last few days, you’d only wished for Alicent’s consoling eyes.

“We should send troops marching to Harrehal, the Riverlands have the largest force.” Aemond waves his hand over where the location of Riverrun is plastered on the wall. It’s curved in cursive lettering, surrounding soft green fields, most notably of their Southern lands, which was an inhabited place of divided houses and discourse. The largest force, it had many issues of compromises and its lordship. “With them, Rhaenyra’s forces would be left vulnerable on land.”

The accordance of hums coaxed the second son with assurance. A sense of pride if you will, knowing how much more skilled and knowable he was than his brother. But the Hand was quick to question his methods.

“And what of the small Houses of Riverrun? The Brackens and Blackwoods have been fighting each other for centuries. They would never work together as one,” Otto points out and it brings more skepticism and worry to the other Councilmen. Alliances with the Southerners were awkward. They do not know when or where to stop the fight. And it has become extremely bothersome at the time of war. The Bracken and Blackwoods were examples of that. They proceeded with the war more for themselves and would kill hundreds of their men if it meant to end their rivalry before the war even began.

“We should negotiate with smaller Houses beyond the River lands then,” Your lips shudder slightly when the immediate eyes turn to you. Even your husband stares at you in astonishment and curiosity the same. Alicent looks at you warily. And Aemond, all too mysterious, holds a neutral look. “Would it not help Ser Criston Cole secure more of the surrounding Houses towards their larger forces? Gaining allies along the way to Riverrun would only add more to our numbers,”

“And in truth, give us a better advantage to overruling Riverrun altogether?” A devilish grin was on Aegon’s face at your suggestion. Your advice seemed promising and seemed risky but it was the most practical. King’s Landing had more advantage on land than the sea or sky, therefore it was evident in their leverage over the smaller Houses close to Riverrun.

You tilt your head in amusement, all while lowering yourself to sit down. Yes, even though you had no experience in politics or war, you listened. You had ears whenever you managed to walk past one of their meetings. It should be frowned upon but you did not care. You wanted to have more say in protecting your family and House. Most things had been provided for you at an early age. You were a princess with a wealthy father, negotiations were your family’s specialty. You learned early on how to enunciate and please people with the way of your words. And here, you simply voiced what you believed was the safest way to Riverrun. Despite all the demeanors, none of the other Councilmen had anything else to say or disprove of your plans.

“Good! Then it’s settled then,” The king rises, as well as everyone else who feels startled at his shifted demeanor. “Then Ser Criston Cole should prepare some men for the long journey ahead of us by dawn!” It was then you felt some sort of pride that would solidify your position at the Council. As long as you hold a strong mind, should your advice become helpful towards the men, you’d hoped they would see your presence as a blessing.

In some midst of it all or perhaps the end, Aemond is quiet. He’s curious and admires you for everything you strive for. Many people would assume he despises you for taking the initiative to aid his king. But he does not believe in that no, you’re a delicate thing and would never be selfish on greed. Merely he can appreciate your ambitious strides from afar. The way you act around the people, the Council, and his mother makes him believe you were born into the role of Queen. You care for your subjects and think of what’s best for them. You do your best to stay by your king’s side even though he lacks the mind for it.

Perhaps maybe, in some cases, he should’ve had you.

The words struck right out of his head just when everyone was dismissed. While the nobleman rushes out of the council room, he delays his leave momentarily to catch a glimpse of you. You define the example of his House’s wealth, always proud to dress in colors of black and crimson red as if it was your second skin. However you do not forget about your own House colors, you embrace it all together with his own and it makes him wonder what kind of beauty like yourself can be persuaded by the likes of his brother. You were quick-witted, amusing, and altogether undeserving of Aegon’s love.

You do not immediately flee the room as his mother or Ser Criston Cole had done. Instead, you slowly rise from your seat and make your way to your husband, eagerly. Aegon sits comfortably in his golden chair, smug with loving eyes at your figure. He could not help but eye at you openly even with his Kingsguard standing beside him.

“Aemond, may we have the room?” He hears his older brother say. It does not take a blind man to know the following events as the one-eyed prince simply tilts his head in your direction. Before storming out of the room and the slam of the doors. His footsteps clank against the cold cobblestone pavement as he makes his way to his room. But all he could think about was your lively laughter as he disappeared from the scene.

The day after Cole’s troops arrived back at King’s Landing, you felt a string of worry crawling down your spine. As you pace across your bedroom, you fiddle with the ends of your loose hair to solace the anxiety you feel in your stomach. The pit was too unbearable as more men would be escorted out towards Rook’s Rest. After Aegon removed Otto Hightower as Hand, Criston Cole became the primary candidate for the position. You voiced your concerns before but Aegon had yet to change his decisions on your advice.

Now rumors have spread that by the time Cole invades Rook’s Rest, Aemond would be by his side to counter whatever attack Rhaenyra plans to defend her councilman. It would risk losing one dragon, the biggest and largest female beast you’d seen. Doubt fills your mind when you try to shake your worries away. You shook your hands feverishly and swatted away the sweat building up against your palms. You must speak to Aemond. You should warn him of the consequences of this act.

You found the prince outside of the castle. Vhagar resides in a shallow space close to the gateways to the city and is attentively monitored for her whereabouts. Very few dragon keepers watch over the powerful beast for her dangerous nature and size. As a cart, full of sheep was being carried by horses, you looked in awe at the amount of necessity the castle must provide for their dragons now. Surely it would impact the people’s living and cost. It worries you how chaotic and unlawful the palace seemed to behave in times of war. Even though you find yourself wanting to question Aemond’s intentions of helping Cole this way.

Your words settle like a soothing wave in his ears. “Prince Aemond,” And when the one-eyed prince spots you, holding the reins of your horse with a steady hand, he’s not afraid to show his approval of your presence. The colors you wear today are regarded as wealth and beauty. The golden linen stretches along the cloth of obsidian, representative of his House, your House. The gown expands upon your collarbone, allowing the silver necklace you have on to become the ire of his attention. It entices him, brings him into your line of view. Clear cut diamonds you had on your earlobes, they jingle at the slightest movement you make, as you make your way towards him with ease.

“Your Grace,” He prompts, politely. He is a plain canvas for you to paint over, to inspect over. You should not be afraid of his presence because he behaves well under yours. The prince regent eyes you down carefully and you’re vaguely reminded of the day before, the two of you entered the Council room.

“How was your ride with Vhagar?” You tenderly incite, head tilting towards his beast. Vhagar sits lazily with her entire body blended into the environment. Her muddy green scales combine with the grassy interior. The dragon pits were deemed too small for her size. And more so claustrophobic for a creature of her caliber, as a champion of many wars and destruction, Vhagar is rather docile for being the largest dragon.

He hums before easily answering. “The morrow dew is not something to be missed during this time. Vhagar could sense it, and the warm breeze is sure to come sooner for summer,” He crossed his arms behind his back as if analyzing your every breath as you walked in irregular patterns, trailing along where his dragon resides. Your attention was not fully on him. No, not that he wouldn’t mind. But it was ignorant on your part to ignore him so easily. “Now save the rest of this nonsense for supper or shall I ask what were your real intentions for coming here? Though I welcome it,”

You catch onto his coarse tone. Aemond dislikes those who do not take him seriously, like his brother. And you are aware of his estranged heart. You give him a look of consideration. It was the look of someone who had the upper hand. You knew he was becoming impatient with your meddling.

“What are your plans with Criston Cole going to Rook’s Rest?” Your figure fully faces him now as you cup your hands together modestly. Surely the prince of the realm should respect the Queen’s uncertainties when he meets with the King’s Hand behind his back. A sliver of dread falls on the blonde prince as you take a step closer. “Consoling with the Hand without the King’s presence is extremely demeaning, my prince. Surely you have a right reason to go behind his back,”

He takes a step forward, as Aemond’s eye moves back and forth from you. “We have a plan,” He is recursive in his thoughts and manners. Yet under your eyes, he feels utterly weak and broken, as if you have put a spell on him. “It is best if the King does not intervene.”

Shaking your head disapprovingly, you fake disappointment. “Then what do you plan to do?” The longer it went on, the more you could feel his blood rising at the way you glanced and teased at his exploits. “As I, the Queen should know.”

“You need not,” The second son grunts, moving away to leave whatever conversation you were trying to muster with him. You intended to snuff out his plans with Criston Cole and expose them to your King's husband. Your King husband. What would he know of battles and formation? He knew better strategy than him yet you still side with Aegon with his pathetic whims on the townsfolk.

Unsatisfied, you shot a disapproving grin. “I know you intend on attacking Rook’s Rest as a surprise, why else would you go with Cole?” You heard his mudded footsteps stop momentarily as you continued. “My question to it is, what are you trying to prove out of this act of disloyalty?” It flicks a trigger in him. A quick flash of anger, jealousy, and disgust, all coiled into one hole that explodes.

“I intend to prove I am the better fit as heir,” His tone is sharp and alert as he stomps back to you with a violent gaze. His one good remaining eye, unharmed and uncut, shoots daggers at your stern face. A small part of you thinks he is handsome. The way you can rile him within seconds gives you a sense of joy and satisfaction that quenches whatever annoyance you had of him before.

“There is no denying that,” Your lips agape still at how much you were able to pry out of Aemond. However, there was one detail you needed to remind him of. “But you fail to recognize that Aegon still has an heir, Maegor.” With that, you close your mouth to form a thin line as you stand more confidently against the prince’s deadly stare. “And as Queen, I hope you do not try to cross your King’s benevolent trust with your anger.”

It was his turn to remain there motionless. The one-eyed prince repeats your words over and over again. He contemplates them long and hard, glaring at the ground, at where you stood, close to his breath and space. But all of his emotional desires could be examples of an ill temper. You twist and turn his head like a puppeteer to a helpless marionette. And his strings had long sprung and trapped him in an immobile place.

He leaves without a word.

The battle was over. But the war continued. You became increasingly paranoid as no word from Cole’s army of Aegon’s wellbeing. You heard unreliable news. This and that but you wanted the real thing. The truth from a real member who had witnessed the battle at Rook’s Rest. As you twist the ring on your finger, you glance towards the rising crowd in the city. There were so many citizens. They succeeded and followed like colonies of ants.

Your anguish was reassured when the sight of the King’s army appeared. Shouts and screams returned you from your thoughts as hundreds of men walked and rode on horseback. Your lively expression did not last long, only to falter when meant with their solemn faces. What a grim battle it must’ve been.

“All hail King Aegon! Who went against and slain the traitor, Rhaenys, and her dragon, Meleys!” Cole exclaims in a harsh and undeserving undertone. From where you stood, on the high mounts of the castle, you saw the horrors of what they’ve done to the traitors. A severed head of the Red Queen, without her rider. Her flesh was torn and burnt. Charred from the attacks of another dragon, you did not believe Aegon had done so. You had doubts and Criston’s indifferent frown proved your intuition.

Alicent was by the patio where you spied on the citizens of King’s Landing. She observes and feels a familiar dread from the aftermath she has yet to witness for herself. You have taken the position of Queen and in turn, must understand the order of things. Simply because she had a feeling that things did not seem as they were predicted by the townsfolk.

When the wooden carriage of your husband is delivered to your bed chambers, everyone storms aside for the guards to set it on the floor. You arrived shortly after, nails and teeth clenched in fear as your mother-in-law appeared beside you with the same fixation. And somewhere else, your brother-in-law, Aemond carefully watches your scared position. The lid lifts and the soldiers hold onto the emergency bed that protects their King. In a swift motion, they lift and allow the body to hover over your shared bed.

In patience and precision, Maester Orywle walks into the chambers with several other maesters under his wing to begin a procedure and analysis of his injured body. The room is quickly transformed into a medical room, with various tools and gadgets displayed for the maesters disposal. You had little clue what they were doing, worried about your husband’s awakened state.

“How is he?” You stumbled by the foot of the bed, where the other maesters scurry to give off Maester Orwyle a scalpel. Gods, the wounds he had mustered. You felt terrified and rightfully so. This could be the last time you see your husband, alive and breathing. “Is he awake?”

“I’m not sure, Your Grace,” Maester Orwlye replies with adequate patience. Knowing the panic and hysteria you must feel for your king, your husband, he pities in your state. You should not deserve such sorrow. “But I must be given time to work on his fatal wounds. Whether he lives or not will be confirmed afterward.” His unflinching face softens when glances at one of Aegon’s personal Kingsguard to escort you outside. The knight nods and walks forward to excuse himself before coming forward.

“My apologies, Your Grace,”

Yet you did not want to leave. Your palms felt hot and guilt-ridden with the idea of leaving Aegon alone to suffer. You urge, taking a step forward for only Maester Orwyle to hear. “How long can you be sure he will survive?” It’s so hushed with desperation in your voice. But the maester could only respond with a sorrowful shake. It breaks your heart wholly, to know not even the best medical professionals had a clear understanding or answer to their King’s expectancy.

As you feel pathetic tears, ready to fall, the Queen Regent rushes to take hold of your forearm. She drags your pitiful self out of the chambers. The bodies that remained stepped aside for you and Alicent to leave swiftly. A quick flash of silver and black vanishes from your peripherals, but you cannot process anything that is happening anymore.

The syllables of your name ring against your ears as the Queen Regent tries to bring you back to her. “My dear, please focus on me.” Delicate fingers drape a hold of your jaw, firmly. They smooth over the apples of your cheeks, smoothly and soothingly like a gesture a mother would do for their children. “You need to stand strong for Aegon and yourself. Your children, think of Jaehaera and Meagor! Pray to the gods for his health.”

With that, you took a deep breath.

Aemond was avoidant to the whole ordeal. No one besides Criston Cole was there when he found his brother’s scorched body. Alongside his dragon, Sunfrye, it looked as though he was fighting for his last breath. Aemond would’ve taken that chance to send him to eternal sleep if not for Cole’s arrival. A pity for him.

As he watches the scene before him, your grief-stricken features are what caused the most pain. You resembled a tragic painting, so angelic it’s saddening to see you this way. Aemond could’ve done it. He could have killed his brother and taken the glory of killing Meleys. Despite that, he did not and stormed from the scene. Now left in the shadows of what’s to come, he numbly waits for the maester’s work to be done with. The Council meeting will begin shortly. After Aegon’s procedure and Maester Orywle, official confirmation of whether he would live or not would determine whether he would become the true heir or not.

This was what he wanted, yes?

Except, everything was bleak now. All the colors he witnessed were suddenly wiped; now all he saw was black and white. Your tragic face comes into mind, along with your fragile sniffles and tears. Gods, he wanted to comfort your sweet little heart. Yet knowing he was the cause of it, made Aemond strangely more devoted to you. If Aegon does not survive, you are bound to be a widow. Your youngest child, Meagor was still but a babe, unfit and too young to understand what an heir was. Therefore he would be the rightful option if all else failed. He would rule in the King’s stead.

That was what the one-eyed prince considered when he stepped through the doors to begin the Council. The King’s chair was empty as expected, looking lonely and authoritative without its ruler. In the same sense, on the opposite side, you sat soberly with nothing but a blank look. You wore cool-toned colors this morning. It reflected much of what you must be feeling.

Grief, misery, and blame. Even in this poor state, he still considers you attractive and alluring. It’s a shame you looked dejected and lifeless despite all your energy and might to stay awake. Your hair was even braided in a simpler style. Knowing you always had a knack for extraverted taste, Aemond takes in your appearance profoundly. Because perhaps, everyone in the Council can understand the emphasis on the wife of the King. As they eagerly await Maester Orwyle’s results, they all gaze at your seat for any kind of solace.

He takes the chair to your left and sits. While the Grand Maester begins to explain Aegon’s conditions. The longer he spewed, the more you felt your heavy heart fall deeper into your chest. How would the realm react now? Their king suddenly struck and immobile to be by their side. He had defeated Rhaenys in battle however now suffered in a long-inducing coma just as his father did. Who would rule in his absence? It only made sense in your mind but you did not make it become a reality.

“But he is very much alive, Your Grace,” Maester Orywle gives an earnest smile to the Queen Mother as she exhales with the utmost relief. “Though he will need time to recover, I do not think he will ever be the same.”

An unfavorable grunt from Aemond brings attention from you and Cole. “So he is unable to leave his chambers.”

“I’m afraid not,”

“Then we must choose who is to rule in his stead,” Lord Wylde speaks of the obvious, sparing everyone a momentary glance. He clears his throat and rubs his beard, nervously.

“If anyone should come in Aegon’s stead, it is his wife,” Alicent jabs, shooting quick assertiveness when she presses her crossed palms onto the table. Your name leaves her lips as a clear sign of hope. “She was the closest companion to the King and has been since this war started. It is only right for her to continue her husband’s intentions and plans.”

“And what plans did the King have?” A pompous statement coming from her second son, which surprised you as well. Aemond was known for his restrained nature however it seems as days passed, he was slowly losing his grip on his sanity. “I am the closest heir the King has. Would it not be I who rules in his stead?” In the turn of the tides, the room is divided upon their suggestions. You can tell by the wary looks the lords hold with each other. However, you have been grateful for Alicent’s support regardless of the cold shoulder she has given you previously.

“You are not fit, Prince Aemond,” Your fingers slide and take hold of the marble ball in front of you. The weight of the object pleasantly gives you a boost of poise to look him in his one good remaining eye. “The King’s line is still secured for my son, Meagor will become the next heir. But he is young so for the time being, I am naturally the next in line to come to his stead. As his wife and Queen, I should have a say as well.”

It’s what Aegon would’ve wanted.

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timmydraker · 2 months ago

Text

CW: extremely dubious consent, assault and p3d0phillia (not romanticised), self-victimisation blaming, sui attempt. Be safe, be kind.

Tim’s parents mainly had a child for the financial gain as well as popularity.

As soon as Tim was born he was a beautiful and cute little thing that made all conversations at Galas and even and meetings start and flow with ease. People always complimented the bright young boy who could speak as well as a three year old after just turning two and had the cutest little walk in his tiny suit.

When he gets older, Tim understands this and knows that his role is to get deals and funding for his parents.

It’s never out right said, but they always treat him kinda and praise him when he scores them a deal of any kind.

So, he masters it. He learns what people prefer the sweet, endearing little boy and who prefers to see an upcoming business man. He figured out when to talk to a wife over a husband, when to not bother trying or when to be upfront with what he wants so he can get it.

It’s when he’s almost ten, wearing a new suit from a new designer his mother had started to prefer, that one of the older men give him a compliment that just sits wrong to Tim.

It takes him a while to figure it out, and when he does research on it and ends up finding a wiki article on how to tell if someone is attracted to you, he assumes that it’s completely normal. He guess the man thought he was cute like everyone else, but then he reads more.

It’s, quite unsurprisingly, a Reddit post about seduction that tips him off to what the man really wanted from him.

Tim, ever the researcher that he is at heart, properly learns everything he can about sex and seduction and tells himself it’s completely fine for him to do this both because it’s for the family business and he won’t actually have sex. He’s a kid, so they won’t really want him, right?

Of course this is the nativity of the child that he is talking and his still solid trust in humanity keeping him from seeing people for what they really are.

Tim meets Dr Hinders at the next Gala, the man who looked at him like a piece of candy, and gives him a charming little smile and casually touches his forearm like the articles suggested. He plays it off as nothing special outwardly, though he makes sure to leave his eyes lingering on the man’s mouth.

He doesn’t remember much of what actually happened, only entering a car and feeling warm caresses turn harsh and painful.

Tim lays in the man’s bed that night and finds that he hates himself more than the man who used him even as Tim started to push back. He blames himself for not being smarter, for not realising that if he could look at Tim that way, he could do far worse.

But then the man says to Tim, “I think I will endorse your parents, Timothy. You are… quite convincing.”

Tim hears the man’s sickening laugh and hates how success stirs in his gut. Dr Hinders in the lead researching of a project his father had been practically begging to be apart of and now he will.

Jack will be so happy with Tim.

As he is dropped off at home, he runs a icey bath and sobs to himself as he enters. His ass burns as much as his shame, his shoulders ach from where his arms were forced back, yet somehow worst of all is his hip. The hand shaped bruise is giant compared to his own, a brand of sorts to remind him that he handed himself over like a whore.

Yet Tim respects whores, because they need to do it to survive more often than not.

The next day his father picks him up and actually hugs him. Its the first time since he was three that it’s happened and Tim can’t even be in pain from the contact to his aches as he hears his father rant about how proud he is of his son, how he did so well and deserves to go out shopping for a camera.

Tim frowns at the mention of Dr Hinders asking if he could continue to have chats with Tim every now and again yet says yes just to make his father proud.

Janet stared at him all the while with a knowing look, one that screams years of painful experience and burden that she seems to recognise in him.

He pointedly ignores it and goes upstairs.

If Tim this is the result, his father’s love, Tim is going to have to keep doing this.

He just… needs to find a way where it won’t be as painful.

By the time Tim becomes Robin, he’s well known in the elite Gotham circle as ‘bunny’. Find him at an event and play your card right and he’ll come home with you and give you a night you’ll never forget, all you have to do is promise to send some money to his parents or pay for a trip for them.

Most of them pay for trips when they realise that Tim can stay for while nights if they’re away.

He’s eleven when he first goes to a man’s house, already crying silently as he prepped himself, and there’s three others waiting.

He doesn’t even try to back out and upon returning home the next day finds himself holding his head under the iced water a little longer than safe.

Tim doesn’t go through with it and instead goes bat watching.

He tells himself that he’s the one consenting, that it’s okay because he’s doing the seducing, and shoves down the voice that tells him that no amount of temptation should allow anyone older than him to give in to violating a child. He lies to himself about how he prefers it when they are rough and cruel so he can feel better shouting hating them, because the kind touches and longing looks he gets from the ones who let him take the lead make him feel like he is in control, like it could actually be okay, and he knows that it’s not.

It took him a while and soon it will be too late, he’ll be eighteen soon, but he does know that it’s fucked up.

He just ignores that because it makes his dad happy, even after he goes into a coma and remarries.

Somehow he managed to keep it hidden from Bruce for almost five years, but as usual, he finds out.

Tim doesn’t tell him, no he’d never be able to do that.

It’s none other than Dr Hinders.

Bruce host a Gala at the end of summer and winter every year, which is both she he stays relevant and so he doesn’t have to do multiple and not have as much time for Batman.

It’s at one of these Galas that he’s talking with a few men and Dr Hinders says, “You’re a lucky man Bruce, to have Tim with you all the time.”

Bruce smiles proudly as the other two men give each other looks, both knowing full well that Bruce Wayne doesn’t like their kind and probably doesn’t know what Hinders is referring to.

“I am indeed. He’s a smart lad, my Tim. Single handedly raised my company from the ground after my ah, relaxed nature.”

The two men laugh heartily and one manages to make an excuse, abandoning his friend who’s about to shit tears as Hinders leans forward and says, “I’d kill to have him all the time. You know I was his first?”

Bruce is a master of poker faces, he has to be with all the masks he owns in both a literal and metaphorical sense. But his expression still falters for a moment, eyes narrowing as a sick feeling build in his gut.

“What ever do you mean?”

The man besides them stares at the ground in pure fear, knowing that Bruce is one of the most powerful men and he’s been included in the many who took from his financial heir.

Hinders grins a sadistic thing and gives Bruce a look to say ‘oh come on’, “Now, Bruce. Someone had to break him in, teach him the ropes. How else would Jack and Janet get any funding if not for whoring out their son?”

Bruce feels the glass in his hand strain from his tight grip.

“I mean, he definitely had a lot of practice by the time I got to him a second time, but an ass like that comes naturally. Hey, was it you who bought him that red lace? Me and the boys at work still have a photo of him in it up in the lunch room-“

Dr Hinders isn’t ready for the punch Bruce lands on his face, square on his nose with a loud crunch.

A few people turn around and soon everyone is, only to be met with an image of Bruce Wayne that or a cult shows the rage boiling off of him and raining the air with a dangerous aura.

The way he growls is enough to shake the room, somehow worse than Batman’s voice, “everybody get the fuck out of my house.”

Some people get their things calmly and leave, but most hurry like the buildings on fire.

Dick and Damian, the only ones attending that night other than Tim, rush up to him and ask what happened but Bruce is too busy staring at his son across the room.

Tim is frozen, hands cupped to his chest and Bruce knows he heard everything just by the tears in his eyes and how he immediately starts repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over and over.

Bruce approaches him quickly but waits for Tim to move into his arms. He wraps his boy up and squeezes him tight, “it’s okay, my sweet. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. This isn’t your fault. I’m so sorry I didn’t notice.”

Dick is getting frustrated now, wanting to know what happened to his baby brother, yet when he hears Tim’s response his heart is too busy shattering apart.

“It is! I go to them, I let them fuck me so dad can get his deals! It’s my fault! I shouldn’t have done it in the first place but even then I kept going all for a dad who doesn’t love me. I hate it, I hate it so much but it’s what I’m good for!”

Bruce lets out a sob and moves to look at Tim, “No. No, don’t you dare say that. You are so much more, worth so much more than your body. You are my son, you are Red Robin, you are a brother and a grandson and you are so fucking special. I’m so sorry Tim, I’m sorry you feel that way but it’s okay, I’ll help you. Those men will never touch you again, I swear it.”

Tim breaks down and collapses into his father’s arms, sobbing and wailing years of abuse out.

Dick sobs too but manages to get through it enough to remove Damian from the situation even as the young boys eyes are filled with rage and concern for his brother.

It takes a while, mainly for Tim to chose that he will take the pity and blame from the masses if it means the men who hurt him will pay.

He gives a list to Bruce and cries when he sees that Alfred himself is crying.

If some of the men on that list end up dead in prison and Jason seems a proud of himself, that’s no one’s worry.

Damian refuses to leave Tim’s side for a long time, going with him every where when out in public and not giving up his sword even when the mall security insist he has to.

The photo’s taken of Tim, most of which he wasn’t aware of, only manage to circulate for a few hours before Oracle manages to systematically remove each and every single one with the help of a few hackers and Cyborg.

Duke may also leak to a few of his friends that some of the men are trying to bail out of prison and shouldn’t be welcome in Gotham, and if one of those friends is Cass with a wood plank with nails in it, Kate defiantly didn’t see and help her make it.

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moonlinos · 9 months ago

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Don’t let me love you (Siren part II)

♡ Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin × fem!reader

♡ Genre: Camboy!Hyunjin, friends with benefits to lovers

♡ CW: Explicit sexual content (minors dni!), sex work, mentions of smoking, drinking, oral sex (female receiving), orgasm delay/denial, sex toys, marking, nipple play, unprotected sex, creampie, choking (only a little tho)

♡ Word count: 15.7k

♡ Synopsis: Hyunjin has been a camboy since he turned eighteen and a host since the age of twenty. His life and line of work had him building up a fortress of walls to keep himself safe, but he’s powerless as he watches you unknowingly break them down. Although he knows you deserve better than him, he battles with a selfish desire that wants nothing more than to allow himself to love you.

♡ A/N: Part two of what was supposed to be a one-shot, but people made my brain think things and I wrote 15.7K WORDS. I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that so many people actually wanted a part two of something I wrote, so I wanna say thank you 🩷

← part I

Your situation with Hyunjin has been going on for almost eight months now.

Some things have changed; he’s undoubtedly more clingy with you, and you started hanging out with no intentions of having sex. What remains unchanged, however, is the fact that he’s still the same old egotistical idiot.

The thing is, you somehow grew to like that about him. It’s amusing to you just how much he loves himself, gloating about his conquests at the club or bragging about maintaining his number-one spot on the camming website. Although this only makes you even more certain you would never entertain the idea of being with someone like him, having the man who makes you come so hard also make you laugh just as much is a nice bonus.

Hyunjin began coming over to your apartment around two months ago, gradually wearing down your resistance with a lot of pestering until you finally let him in. Your home was almost sacred to you. Hooking up in his apartment was one thing, doing that in the familiarity of your home made it feel almost too intimate. You’ve fucked on the couch, on the kitchen counter, in the shower, but you never allow him into your bedroom. You’re not entirely sure why, but it would feel as if you were tainting your favorite place if he were to fuck you in your bed.

You’re getting ready for a date in your bathroom with Hyunjin sitting on the floor behind you, claiming the view of your ass from that angle was optimal. He lets out a loud chuckle as he watches you dab yet another layer of concealer on the hickey he left on your collarbone earlier tonight.

“Fuck off,” you snap at him. “You think this is funny?”

“Well, yeah, ‘cause it is,” he simply says, and you see him shrugging in the mirror, a grin tugging at one corner of his lip.

Hyunjin has the maddening habit of marking you. Although you told him numerous times how much you hate it, he conveniently ignores that when you have sex, and you’re always too clouded by lust to say anything about it.

“What are you doing on your livestream tonight?” You ask after finally making the small, red blotch on your skin imperceptible.

Watching Hyunjin cam has become your go-to de-stressing method after work. Sitting in a corner far away from the camera, you watch him do his job with ease, like it’s second nature to him. It’s almost intoxicating how he seems to always know what to say to get his viewers going, knowing exactly when to be mean and when to play the role of a caring boyfriend. It makes you clench around nothing, hungrily watching as he makes himself come all over his stomach so deliciously it has you eager to be fucked as soon as he’s done.

He hums. “Well, they really seemed to like the toys I tried last weekend, so I guess that’s what I’m doing for the next few weeks.”

“Ooh, so you’re sticking to the toys now,” you tease him with a grin.

Last Saturday, you watched as Hyunjin opened fan gifts he had received in his PO box during his livestream. Some were extremely questionable (if you had a nickel for every time he pulled out used panties from a box, you’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s weird that it happened twice), while some were exactly what you would expect to be sent to a camboy. A variety of BDSM gear, kinky costumes fans wanted him to wear, and of course, a lot of sex toys.

Hyunjin shrugs again, leaning on his left hand and staring up at you through the mirror. “I kinda have to do whatever my viewers want to keep my number one ranking.”

“And are you going to the club tonight?”

“Nah,” he yawns and rests his head against the wall. “Took the day off. My spot there is secured,” his lips upturn into a grin. “No other guy at that club can compete with me.”

That’s another thing you learned about Hyunjin these past months; his club and website rankings are extremely important to him. You also learned he has an Only Fans account on the side where he shares videos and pictures of himself, and he pesters you about making any type of content with him every couple of weeks. You were tempted after seeing the enticing amount of money that was in it for you, but your decision was unswayed.

Your confidence wasn’t like his. You’re sure having your performance and appearance scrutinized by strangers would make you go insane.

Nonetheless, you struggle to conceal your jealousy toward Hyunjin’s jobs, as they seem so damn perfect in your eyes. How great would it be if you could essentially work only when you felt like it? Not to mention the fact that both his jobs are basically having orgasms and looking pretty, which certainly seems heavenly when compared to your headache-inducing corporate job.

He even delayed the starting time of his livestream tonight for the sole purpose of tormenting you while you get ready.

Jihoon is your first proper date in almost a year, as you only allowed yourself the luxury of dating after getting the promotion you were working for. He’s in your company’s finance department, and you two have been casually flirting for three months. You tried your best to ignore him for a couple of weeks, but not only was he ridiculously good-looking, he was also the breathing definition of boyfriend material. He was kind, holding doors open and helping other workers carry heavy boxes with a smile on his face. He was caring, always arriving at the office with coffee for his coworkers, having memorized everyone’s order.

Not to mention the whispered rumors that echoed through the hallways of the ninth floor. Your friend, who had recently moved into the finance department, shared them with you after a drunken night out. Jihoon was apparently amazing in bed, all while being a perfect gentleman. The perfect blend of rough and sweet, and never one to kiss and tell — all these rumors apparently coming from women in his department who had dated him and couldn’t keep themselves from gushing about their unforgettable experience with him.

But it would be a lie to say you were excited about this date because of him.

It was the prospect of how much this could vex Hyunjin that really got you eager.

A couple of nights ago, you joked with Hyunjin about how Jihoon was the complete antithesis of him, hence why he was the ideal candidate for a boyfriend. Hyunjin’s reaction was exactly what you anticipated, with him becoming visibly annoyed and grumbling about how Jihoon probably talks a big game but does the bare minimum in bed.

You simply laughed because the mere thought that another man could be just as good, if not better, than him in bed was what ticked Hyunjin off. Never mind that you said Jihoon was perfect because he was everything he was not.

“You know,” Hyunjin suddenly says, “We should make a bet.”

And you hesitate for a beat and a half because you know Hyunjin.

Still, you sigh and answer, “Sure. What kind of bet?”

“If this guy is really that good in bed, then I’ll pay for your next date myself,” he vows, his smirk only growing as you turn to look at him through the mirror. “If he’s average, you go on a date with me.”

You silently look at him for a few seconds before laughter bursts out of you.

“Hyunjin, do you fucking hate me?” You ask, turning your body toward him. “I get shitty sex then have to endure a date with you?”

He shrugs, rising to stand in front of you. “This just proved to me how much faith you have in your date,” he calmly says. He then leans into you, caging you against the countertop, hands beside your body. Hyunjin bends his face to yours, his breath tickling your skin as he speaks, “Just admit you know no guy will ever be a better fuck than me.”

You scoff at his arrogance, pushing him until his back hits the wall.

“Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Hyunjin follows you when you leave the bathroom to grab your purse in the living room, loudly clicking his tongue behind you.

“Why’d you dress up for him?” He huffs, and you turn to look at him with a raised brow. “This fucking short dress and shit.” He rakes his eyes over your body from head to toe, tugging at his bottom lip. “I should make you dress up for me, too. You look hot.”

By now, you’ve learned that the best course of action to follow when dealing with Hyunjin’s monumental ego is to ignore it altogether. It’s also quite entertaining to purposefully give him answers you know will vex him, so you sweetly smile at him.

“Thank you,” you beam, your fingers toying with the hem of your short dress, pulling up the fabric. “Hopefully Jihoon thinks the same.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes, curling an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. He harshly presses his lips to yours, undoubtedly smudging your lipstick. His tongue pushes past your lips, brushing against your own. It’s almost like an act of possessiveness — leaving his taste on your tongue before you go off to your date with another man.

He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you even closer. But just as you’re getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the sound of your doorbell echoes through the room, and your eyes widen. Pulling away, you promptly push Hyunjin back and wipe the corners of your mouth. You stifle a chuckle when your eyes land on his face; red lipstick smudged all over his lips.

“Stay in the bathroom until I leave,” you tell him while grabbing your purse from the couch. He rolls his eyes again, this time with a scowl contorting his features.

You smile at Jihoon when you open your door. Barely giving him the chance to say hello, you hurry him toward the elevator, reminding him of your reservation. You know Hyunjin, and you wouldn’t put it past him to show up behind you simply to stir up some drama.

But that’s the thing; you know Hyunjin, yet you still choose to stay in this strange arrangement with him. Because it’s the fact that you know him, for some reason you’re unsure of yourself, that makes you actually like him a little bit.

Hyunjin ends his livestream as usual, saying goodnight with a promise of seeing his viewers again tomorrow night. He never acknowledges tips and addresses no one by their name or username. Some cammers wear masks to conceal their identities — this cavalier persona, uncaring and nonchalant, is Hyunjin’s mask.

Letting out a heavy sigh, he goes on to do the arduous task of cleaning up the fleshlight he used tonight. It was a gift from a viewer, who begged him — with quite a lot of tips — to use it for her. What was initially meant to be a one-time thing has now become his new routine, as his viewers couldn’t get enough of it.

Hyunjin hates this part of his camming job: the incessant need to please the people who watch him, lest they abandon him and move on to a new cammer. He doesn’t mind the sex toys — although cleaning them makes him want to throw his entire collection out the window — but he’s had to do a lot of shit he really didn’t want to, all in the name of maintaining his number one spot.

He was eighteen when he first started. In desperate need of money after moving out of home for college, one of his friends suggested he sell his nudes to people around campus. When Hyunjin scowled and asked why the fuck that was his first and only suggestion, the boy laughed. He remembers his words to this day:

“Hyunjin, you know you don’t really have anything else other than your looks. Your grades are shit, and you’re lazy as fuck. This is pretty much the only way you can ever make money.”

And by that age, that was nothing new to Hyunjin, as he had heard different variations of that same speech his entire life. When he was a child, his parents urged him to become an idol or a model, going so far as to motivate him to ignore his schoolwork to attend auditions (even when he whined about how much he hated them).

His mother always said his face had the power to make people love him while studying would only lead to success.

“It’s much better to be loved, Hyunjin,” she told him when he was ten. “Anyone can reach success if they try hard enough, but being loved is a privilege only special people can have.”

By his late teens, when his reputation began to precede him after countless hookups during high school, his friends assured him he could make a lot of money off of sex.

Either way, the consensus was always that the only thing Hyunjin had to offer were his looks and body.

At first, he hated it. He wanted nothing more than to be appreciated for anything other than what his face looked like, or how good he was in bed. He got his grades up, excelled in hobbies he actually liked, and even set goals for himself after college. But Hyunjin never heard a word of praise from his parents, and his friends were always more interested in who he was hooking up with than how he got to the top of his class. After a while, he realized he was simply fighting a losing battle.

So he accepted that truth, because it couldn’t hurt him if he were the one to incentivize it.

That was why he decided to follow his friend’s asinine suggestion.

His first endeavor was with simple videos of himself jerking off in front of his mirror, the shitty camera of his phone certainly hindering his attempt at making the whole thing pleasing to the eyes. He would promote them through text messages to acquaintances he’d met at parties at first, later creating a Twitter account dedicated solely to selling these videos. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was certainly more than his friends made while working monotonous shifts at coffee shops.

Only four months later, he coincidentally entered the world of camming through a girl he had been hooking up with.

They were in her bedroom, just about to have sex, when she giggled against his lips and told him she could make a lot of money if he fucked her during one of her livestreams. He said he could make a lot of money if she let him record them fucking.

They ultimately reached an agreement, and Hyunjin appeared on his first-ever livestream that same night — a mask covering both their faces and the money made split evenly between them.

He recalls how his eyes were glued to her computer screen the entire time. He was used to praises and compliments, but there was something different about having a stranger openly say they’d do anything to be in that girl’s place, that they would pay to have him fuck them, or even something as simple as telling Hyunjin how good he was. It had a rush of euphoria cursing through his veins.

It was as if, for the first time in his life, he had found something he was truly good at, something that he was entirely in control of. He was a natural, and he enjoyed every moment of it, easily slipping into the persona he wears to this day.

He got drunk on that validation and was desperate to have it again.

After that night, he created his own account, with many of his hookup’s viewers following him immediately. He dropped out of college soon after he started, as the money he made from camming along with selling his content on Only Fans already exceeded the estimated salary in his field of study.

Hyunjin was good, and he loved being good. Most importantly, he loved knowing he was good.

That’s why he simply ignores the few times he’s had to do things he wasn’t all that keen on doing. Because at the end of the day, that’s the only thing he’s good at — pleasing people, no matter the cost.

After a long shower, Hyunjin walks back into his room and sinks into his bed. He’s glad he took the day off from his job at the club since a viewer tipped him $300 to edge himself for as long as he could tonight. After an hour of that, the only thing he wants is to curl up in bed and sleep for hours.

He buries himself under his blankets, but just as his eyes flutter closed, the sound of laughter echoes through his room. Your laughter.

He sits up in bed almost immediately, a grin etched onto his lips. He still remembers the day he found out his walls were paper thin; the day you touched yourself while he was streaming. He knew you were so sure you had been quiet — only letting out small whimpers and sighs — but he heard you regardless, and your pretty noises made it even easier for him to come that night. He initially assumed you were simply masturbating, but when you came knocking at his door the very next day to complain about how noisy he was, he knew you were touching yourself to the sound of his voice.

Hyunjin has fucked many women in his life, but for that silly fact alone, none piqued his interest quite like you did.

He rests his back against the headboard, ready to listen to you complain on the phone to some friend, grumbling about how fucking awful your date had been. But a masculine voice suddenly permeates through the wall, filling his room with the sound of your date’s obnoxious laughter.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” he slurs, clearly a bit tipsy.

“Me too,” you giggle, and Hyunjin’s face twists into a scowl. Since when do you giggle like that?

He hastily yanks the covers off his body, rushing to settle into his computer chair in a shameless effort to hear your conversation more clearly.

“Sorry I laughed when you spilled your drink on your dress,” the guy — whose name Hyunjin frankly didn’t care enough to memorize — apologizes before adding, “Do I make you that nervous?”

And it’s like Hyunjin can hear the smirk in the man’s voice. Why the fuck must this annoy him so much? Couldn’t you go back to his place to fuck? Maybe you’re pissed at him over the bet, and this is a desperate attempt to prove you’re right. He scoffs, running a hand through his hair before reclining on the chair.

Just means you’ll be having mediocre sex while he listens.

“Of course I was nervous,” you reply. “Look at you, this shirt’s been driving me crazy since you picked me up.”

The man snickers. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you state matter-of-factly, “Kept looking at your arms the entire night. Couldn’t think straight,” your voice drops to a whisper, and Hyunjin could recognize the alluring lilt that envelops your voice from a mile away.

You use it with him almost every night.

Your date hums. “Oh, you like my arms?”

And Hyunjin can just picture the man flexing his muscles. What a fucking idiot.

His room is filled with the creaking sound of your bed, and he physically cringes. He can’t believe you’re really gonna make him listen to you fuck another guy. He especially can’t believe you so easily let this fucker into your bedroom. Hyunjin has known you for eight months, and you still adamantly insist that your bedroom is off-limits.

Maybe this is his long-overdue punishment for making you lose sleep for a month.

Your room suddenly falls into an odd stillness. All Hyunjin can do is sit in the dark, consumed by the incessant ticking of his clock, unable to tear his gaze away from the wall in front of him. His mind becomes his own worst enemy, flooding his imagination with vivid images of you laid out underneath this man, his arms you seemingly love so much caging you between the mattress and his body while his lips explore every inch of your skin. Or maybe you’re on top, rolling your hips in that slow, tantalizing rhythm that drives Hyunjin mad while looking at him with lust-clouded eyes.

The sound of you softly whimpering shakes him out of his thoughts, and Hyunjin subconsciously clenches his fists. Despite hearing the guy talk to you again, all he makes out is a jumble of garbled, muffled sounds.

He isn’t sure how long he stays there, eyes boring holes into the wall until his vision goes blurry and gnawing on his lips until he tears at the delicate skin. His ears sting with the sound of your bed frame hitting your shared wall, and your sighs and moans he loves so much only seem to mock him.

When the sardonic symphony eventually fades into silence, Hyunjin remains where he is. He feels powerless; he can’t stop how his heart weighs heavy in his chest or do anything but feel the scorching flame of anger searing his veins.

He’s memorized your date’s name by now — Jihoon, as your voice repeatedly called out.

For the first time in so long, Hyunjin was no longer in control.

Hyunjin struggles to conceal his annoyance when you show up at his door the next day as if nothing had happened. The hickey he gave you no longer being concealed by makeup and your ever-present grin only added to his aggravation, as if you were relishing in his agony. He wants nothing more than to fuck that smug grin off your pretty lips, but he can’t bring himself to touch you. Not when his ego is bruised by how easily another man could please you.

After all, that was all Hyunjin had to offer. Why were you even here in the first place? If you had already found someone else to fuck you, he had nothing more to give you.

Sitting on his couch, Hyunjin’s frustration gets the best of him, and he’s the first to break the silence.

“I don’t even gotta ask if you had a good time last night,” he sneers, and you stifle a chuckle, trying but ultimately failing to keep a straight face.

“Yeah, the restaurant was nice.”

Hyunjin can’t contain the scoff that escapes his lips, his mouth curling in disdain. “You know damn well I’m not talking about the restaurant.”

You cock your head to the side, brows knitting together as you put on your best act of naivety.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” You ask, voice dripping in sarcasm.

Hyunjin is pushing your body onto the couch before he realizes what he’s doing, the rage he felt last night no longer laying dormant in his bloodstream. He cages you against the cushions, his hands resting beside your body. You instinctively spread your thighs to accommodate him.

“You think you’re so fucking funny, don’t you?” He asks, bending his face to yours. You shrug with a contented sigh, lifting your arms to wrap around his back.

Hyunjin scoffs, and you let out a yelp as he abruptly hoists your legs over his shoulders, fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs. He leans down to kiss you, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth but pulls away before you can register to kiss him back, leaving you to chase after his touch.

“Is this how he fucked you?” He asks with a hum, his lips hovering mere inches above yours. His hold on your thighs becomes bruisingly tight as he waits for your answer. “Hm? Did he fuck you good?”

“We were both tipsy,” you murmur, breath hitching as he pushes his hardening member against your clothed core. “It was okay.”

A grin tugs at the corner of his lips, and Hyunjin mockingly pouts. “So he wasn’t the sex god you were promised, baby?”

You roll your eyes. “I just said it was okay.”

Hyunjin shakes his head, his gaze transfixed by the way your eyes look up at him while you subtly roll your hips up into him. He’s not stupid, he knows the reason why you have such an infuriating effect on him. He’s never going to be good enough for you outside of being a good fuck, yet he feels a blooming yearning inside of his chest that makes him selfishly want to keep you to himself. Even if he has nothing else to offer you.

So he chooses to swallow his pride, just this once, to prove to you why you should choose to stay and stop searching for pleasure in other men — because Hyunjin knows you will find much more than that in them. Much more than what he has.

“‘Okay’ isn’t what you deserve,” He tuts, his mind slowly fogging over with desire as you roll your hips harder against his length. “Isn’t what you’re used to after all these months, is it? Hm?” He urges, raising a hand to lightly brush against your jaw before gripping it. “Answer me.”

Hyunjin knows you’re struggling not to give in; that’s one of his favorite things about having sex with you. The push and pull, how you try so hard to act tough and unbothered but ultimately melt under his touch every time. Even so, he was only able to truly break you for the first time a couple of months ago. You’re obstinate, he’ll give you that.

You shrug again, and he knows it’s the only answer he’ll get from you for now.

“Are you gonna see him again?” He asks instead.

You let out a quiet sigh as Hyunjin lazily grazes your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t think so.”

“Yeah?” He asks, arching a brow almost knowingly. “I can’t help but think you only brought him home to make me listen to you.”

And you giggle at that. The same overly sweet, coy giggle Hyunjin heard through his wall last night.

“I guess you’ll never know,” you simply answer, running a hand through his hair and lightly gripping a fistful while your eyes flicker down to his lips.

Hyunjin wastes no more time talking to you — he knows your conversations usually lead nowhere. He crashes his lips into yours, fingers gripping your jaw once more and forcing your lips open, his tongue slipping inside your mouth. You whimper into the kiss, a sound he knows slipped past your lips unwittingly. Your tongue swirls against his, and he savors your taste with a low hum.

You tilt your hips up, chasing after him again and whining when Hyunjin moves out of reach. He smiles.

“You want me to give you what you’re used to?” He asks against your lips, and you’re quick to nod. “So fucking greedy, made me listen to you get fucked last night only to come running back to me.” He slides his hands under your ass and picks you up effortlessly, carrying you toward his bedroom with an exasperated sigh. “Would’ve been easier if you just admitted no guy will ever be as good as me, wouldn’t it?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you snarl, but your words are cut short as Hyunjin throws you onto his bed and promptly walks to his wardrobe. “At least Jihoon got to it quick. I’m not one of your viewers, I don’t care much for your chatter.”

Hyunjin lets out a hearty laugh, retrieving a small blue box from among his clothes and sitting at the edge of the bed. “He got to it quick? Is that your way of telling me your date was a one-minute man?”

You open your mouth as if you’re ready to refute him but ultimately close it and cross your arms over your chest, willing him to do something. Hyunjin stifles another laugh.

“Good thing you have me, then,” He mutters, the goading lilt to his voice impossible to disguise. Placing the box on his nightstand, he hovers over your body once again. “I got all these toys, and we never got around to playing with them together.”

You visibly shudder, nodding slowly as Hyunjin looms over you. He slots your lips together once more, this time much more softly. Your tongue lightly brushes against his bottom lip, licking into his mouth as your thighs wrap around his hips, hooking your ankles behind him and drawing his body flush against yours.

With each languid and deliberate stroke of his tongue, Hyunjin revels in the way he can feel you grow more impatient, tugging at the fabric of his shirt and rutting your hips against his. His hands slip under the hem of your shirt to grip your waist, easing your movements. The way his cock strains against his sweatpants becomes impossible to ignore as his hard length presses against your warm core harder and harder with each roll of your hips.

Hyunjin’s hand glides from your waist to your stomach, caressing your skin before finding its way to your cunt, fingers harshly pressing against your clothed wetness. You whimper into the kiss as he lazily circles your clit over the fabric of your shorts.

“Let’s make a deal,” Hyunjin whispers as he pulls away. “You admit I’m the best fuck you’re ever gonna have, and I might let you come.”

He punctuates his words with a firm press of his fingers to your clit, and he can visibly see your resolve crumbling before him, but you still force out an indignant huff.

“In your dreams,” you shakily breathe out.

Hyunjin shrugs, his fingers leaving your core and traveling over the expanse of your stomach. He promptly rids you of your shirt, and you hiss as his hands brush against your sensitive nipples, Hyunjin watching as they immediately stiffen in response.

Your habit of not wearing a bra nearly drives Hyunjin insane — even on the first day you came knocking at his door, he remembers having to fight the urge to glance down at the way your nipples peaked beneath the fabric of your white shirt.

You’ve been driving him crazy since you walked into his line of sight.

Hyunjin lightly massages your breasts before grazing your hardened nipples with his thumbs, swiftly sucking one into his mouth, causing sighs to spill from your lips as your hand tangled in his hair. He flicks the stiff bud with his tongue before grazing his teeth over it, and you roughly tug at his roots. He smiles against your skin, nudging the peak of your nipples with his lips and sighing.

“Say it,” he calmly tells you, but your only response is tugging harder at his hair. “You’re so stubborn,” He chides, tugging his shirt over his head. “I told you, you’re only coming if you fucking admit it.”

He slowly moves onto the foot of the bed, his hands roaming along your legs with featherlight touches. He places wet kisses from your stomach to your inner thighs, sucking lightly at the skin until his lips hovered tantalizingly close to your still-clothed, aching cunt. And then he stops, instead pressing a kiss to your hips.

“Hyunjin,” his name falls from your lips as a breathy whine. He looks up to find your gaze already on him, eyes silently pleading. He grins, thumbs drawing circles on your inner thighs as you push your hips into his face, but he promptly pulls away. “Please,” you finally whisper, although barely audibly.

Hyunjin hums, satisfied, pressing a wet kiss to your core through the fabric of your shorts before sliding them down your legs along with your panties. He hisses through his teeth at the sight of your wetness, thumbs gliding up and down your folds before spreading you before him. His tongue immediately pokes out to travel up your slit before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit, sucking harshly, and your hand soon flies to rest on his head.

He lifts his eyes once more, humming against your folds as he finds your head rolled back onto his pillows, lips falling open as you softly mewl. He could listen to your sweet sounds all night, reveling in the way every flick of his tongue made you become louder and louder until you were all but screaming his name.

But he has to teach you a lesson tonight.

His tongue delves deep into you, gliding against your slick inner walls, causing even more arousal to flood his lips. His eyes flutter closed with a pleased hum, lapping up every drop of your wetness.

“Fuck,” you rasp, and Hyunjin knows you’re close.

With a wicked grin, he slips two fingers into your warm cunt, curling them just the way you love while his tongue expertly circles your clit. When you roll your hips against his lips, yanking his head toward your body, Hyunjin pulls away.

He watches as your eyes shoot open and you frown at him, but he simply grins, thumb wiping at his glistening mouth before slipping the digit into your agape lips.

“Say it,” he repeats, unrelenting, and stifles a laugh when you groan loudly.

You hook a leg around his waist, bringing his body close to yours again, the heat of his thick cock pressing against your soaked cunt. Hyunjin sucks in a breath, focusing on reining in his emotions, determined not to let you win. His mind is already completely clouded with lust, desperate to fuck you into the mattress, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction of watching him give in to you.

He bends his face to yours, gasping out a curse as he watches the way you swirl your tongue around his finger with a hum, lazily sucking it while maintaining your eyes locked onto his. He presses the pad of his thumb down onto your tongue, and your lips obediently fall open before upturning into a taunting smile.

You still think you’re in control.

Hyunjin shakes his head, his resolve coming back to him.

His fingers fall from your tongue, and he presses his lips against yours. You melt into the kiss, hands traveling down the expanse of Hyunjin’s abdomen, then back up to wrap around his broad shoulders. He lets you do as you please, rummaging through his box until his fingers brush against what he’s looking for. He sucks your tongue into his mouth, ultimately distracting you, and you let out a small whimper, which grows into a loud groan as he presses the blunt tip of the massaging wand to your clit and switches it to the medium setting.

“What the fuck,” You all but growl into his lips, and Hyunjin hums.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

You let out a shuddering sigh. “T-Too much,” you whimper, hands scrambling for Hyunjin’s arms in an attempt to ground yourself, but ultimately clawing at his bedsheets.

He glides the wand along your drenched folds, moving up and down, eyes transfixed on the way your arousal drips out of you and coats the toy. Your entire body jolts when he harshly presses the vibrating tip directly onto your clit. He could come just by watching you squirm underneath him, loud groans falling from your lips. How he wished Jihoon could be in your room, listening to how beautiful you sound when you’re actually being taken care of properly.

Hyunjin feels his cock twitch every time your body shudders, trying to escape the relentless vibrations, sticky precum gathering in his sweatpants and increasing his discomfort. He desperately wants to fuck you.

With a low grunt, he leans in closer to you, pinning your arm to your side and flicking his wrist as he presses down harder on your swollen clit.

“Got no idea how pretty you sound, do you?” He hisses, “If only you weren’t such a fucking brat and just — fuck.”

His words dissipate when your free hand wiggles between your bodies and pulls down his sweatpants, freeing his cock. Your fingers immediately wrap around his length, squeezing him tightly before frantically stroking him. The sounds that echoed through the room were lewd, unmistakable evidences of both your arousals.

Hyunjin pulls the wand from your clit, turning down the vibrations and letting it rest against one of your peaked nipples while he grips his cock in his fist, the swollen tip prodding at your entrance, just barely pushing in. You whimper loudly, clutching his arm, fingernails digging crescent moons into his pale skin.

“Come on,” he growls, cock now gliding up and down your slit. “I know you wanna come, just fucking say it.”

But you’re unrelenting, staring into his eyes and weakly shaking your head.

Hyunjin stops his movements altogether, his shaft nestled against your soaking cunt, the head of his cock resting heavily on your clit. He presses the wand down onto his length, increasing the intensity to the highest setting. A loud, broken moan falls from your throat as your shaky hands grip his wrist, your back arching off the bed. You try to push the toy away, but Hyunjin’s free hand wraps around your neck, effortlessly pinning your pliant body down onto the mattress.

He presses his forehead to yours, his sweat dripping down onto your breasts as he fights off his orgasm.

“Fucking say it,” he hisses, tears gathering in your lashes. The unyielding vibrations from the wand traveling through his cock and going straight onto your clit, coupled with the way his hand tightens around your throat, finally have every bit of your resolve crumbling.

“You,” you choke out, “Best fuck I’ll ever fucking have, Hyunjin, god — I wanna come, please.”

Hyunjin feels satisfaction enveloping his entire being, and the pleasure intensifies tenfold, his cock twitching and a low groan reverberating from the depths of his chest.

“Come for me, baby,” he breathes out, giving your neck one last squeeze, and your climax erupts from you with a loud cry. As your entire body convulses and your head tilts back, Hyunjin can feel your release coating his cock before dripping onto the sheets below.

As you struggle to catch your breath, your grip on his wrist tightens and your body squirms away from the vibrations, but Hyunjin only presses down harder, seeking his own release. He soon comes with a sigh, eyebrows scrunching together, his cum landing all over your cunt.

He turns off the vibrator, labored breaths mixing with yours as you two come down from your highs.

“You’re fucking insane,” you chuckle after a beat.

And Hyunjin’s lips stretch into a lazy smile. “And you owe me a date.”

You were reluctant at first, having assumed it was simply Hyunjin’s ego talking that night, only teasing you because you were going on a date with someone else when he proposed that odd bet. However, you eventually found out he wasn’t at all joking and actually wanted his ‘prize’ — as he called it — for winning the bet.

Figuring out a date was an aggravating task, given that Hyunjin worked on weekends and you worked on weekdays. You told him numerous times to just let it go; you could simply hang out in his apartment like you usually did and call it a date. It wasn’t anything serious, just another one of his whims.

But Hyunjin’s persistence was unwavering, and he settled for taking yet another day off and canceling his livestream altogether so he could take you out on a Saturday.

Although you weren’t looking forward to it at first, you unknowingly smiled whenever you saw the day marked on your calendar alongside your endless work assignments. It was ridiculous, and you wouldn’t admit it to him, but deep down, you were actually excited about this date. You wanted to know what it’s like to have a conversation that doesn’t end in you two bickering, wanted to know what it feels like to hang out with him without the thought of fucking looming over your heads.

You were strangely excited to get to know Hyunjin outside the four walls of your apartments.

But the Sunday before your date, disappointment washed over you like a cold bucket of water when Hyunjin told you he had to cancel.

What did you expect? You knew Hyunjin. This should’ve been the obvious outcome from the start, but you were stupid and allowed yourself to be swept away by a hope that proved too good to be true.

He waited until he finished his livestream to tell you — as if canceling less than a week before wasn’t already bad enough. Your irritation reached its peak as you sat in his bed and listened to him insist it wasn’t his fault.

“One of the other hosts had a family emergency so he’ll be gone for two weekends,” he explained, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his words. Family emergency. Of course.

“Hyunjin, you say that like you don’t take countless days off with no issues,” you refuted, and his frown deepened while he shook his head.

Just say you don’t wanna go on this stupid date.

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “It’s not like that. We have rules to follow,” he insisted. “Only one host can be absent at a time. I don’t have a valid reason for bailing on Saturday, so I’m forced to go.”

“Or you’ll lose your precious number one spot?”

“Or I’ll lose my fucking job.”

And you simply shrugged as you ultimately realized that was yet another pointless conversation between you. You then went on to have sex, as you always did when confronted with the threat of a serious conversation, and the topic was forgotten.

At least by Hyunjin.

You spend the next days avoiding him to the best of your abilities. Deep down, you know you’re behaving like a child, but the way you allowed yourself to get excited over something as stupid as a date with him still makes you feel pathetic. It’s impossible not to feel like he raised your hopes only for the pleasure of shutting you down. All because you went out with someone else, and you know that was a blow to his ego.

You two have never been anything more than friends who hook up — and even using that term feels almost comical, seeing as you two can’t have a conversation without it turning into a petty argument or an ego battle — but his insistence on this date, and your own eagerness seemed to hint at something more.

Clearly, you were mistaken.

You brought Jihoon back to your apartment hoping to have mind-blowing sex after a nice date. Plus, you knew Hyunjin would hear you, and you terribly wanted to deflate his ego. A win-win situation in your book. Instead, you had mediocre sex at best. Jihoon skipped foreplay entirely, simply pounded into you, and finished far too quickly while leaving you hanging.

Maybe he was too tipsy to perform well, or maybe the women in your office are living in a depressing reality where a guy’s ability to find the clitoris means he’s a god among men. Either way, even after putting on your best performance, Hyunjin still saw right through you.

And the worst part is, even you can’t explain why you did that. Your mind argues it was all for the pleasure of vexing him; he’s been annoying you since he first moved in next door, after all. But your heart is quick to jump in with a list of facts and reasons why that can’t be the case — all while presenting some valid arguments that lead you to believe you might like Hyunjin more than originally planned.

But he was still Hyunjin at the end of the day. Your egotistical idiot neighbor whose fragile ego you hurt, so he’s retaliating.

After three days of successfully ignoring Hyunjin, one of your friends at work makes all your work crumble with a single phrase.

“I can’t believe we still haven’t gone back to The Siren,” she grumbled during lunch, and you stabbed an innocent piece of broccoli with your fork.

That was all it took to ignite your curiosity.

You sit at your desk later in the day and look up that damn club, telling yourself you simply want to find out why your friends are so desperate to go there. This has nothing to do with Hyunjin.

Upon entering their website, you realize The Siren wasn’t a nightclub as you had imagined; it’s an elegant lounge with a lavish-looking bar you’re sure charged $5 for a bottle of water. As you read the club’s About Us page, the entrance fee almost has you choking on your coffee, despite it being expected for such a place. Among several rules, one catches your eye:

The club allows a maximum of twenty attendees per night, offering a choice of twenty-five hosts.

You gnaw on your bottom lip at the realization that perhaps Hyunjin wasn’t lying, and that was the reason only one host could be absent at a time.

Eventually, you find your way to the Hosts section of the website. You’re a bit taken aback by how these men are presented as amenities, like products displayed at an online shop, with nothing but their names and a picture along with their price.

They’re divided into tiers: gold, emerald, and platinum. Hosts in the gold tier are younger, most likely having just started on the job, and their prices are the most affordable. The emerald tier is more expensive, with some hosts who look old enough to be your father. The disturbing realization dawns on you that these men’s values diminish as they age.

On the platinum tier, only five hosts are displayed, and you blanch at each of their unique prices. Hyunjin is the most expensive, at $500, excluding extra fees. You click on his black and white picture, and a myriad of photos of Hyunjin flood your screen. You’re struck by how different he looks in these shots; his styled hair and impeccably tailored suits look nothing like the man you see at your apartments every day, lounging around in sweatpants and loose t-shirts.

A description sits at the top of the page, short but still enough to make you grimace.

Hyunjin has held our club’s esteemed number-one position for two consecutive years now, and rightfully so. Complementing his striking good looks is an alluring personality that will make you feel cherished throughout the evening. His undivided attention will undoubtedly meet your satisfaction, and his additional services will leave you breathless.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting — you were already aware of the nature of Hyunjin’s job as a host — but the club’s portrayal of these people as mere products leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your curiosity has morphed into frustration as you return to the homepage, but a message catches your eye just as you’re about to exit the website. Three spots are now available for Saturday night due to the absence of one of their hosts. And before you can even process your actions, you’ve already booked these spots for you and two friends.

Thank you for choosing to unwind at The Siren! We will contact you individually regarding further details, including host orders.

Host orders? That is enough to make you close the website.

You can’t believe you’re going to do this. You know for a fact Hyunjin will be upset, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If he wants to toy with your emotions, you have every right to show up at this club.

You wait for Hyunjin to leave for work to get ready on Saturday. You weren’t able to avoid him this afternoon and spent the day lazying around in your apartment, binge-watching some new reality TV show he’s obsessed with.

You expected Hana and Naeun to eat you alive for buying tickets to this overpriced club without consulting them first, but their excitement overshadowed any anger they had. You also played up your excitement, although, by the time your shift had ended, you mostly felt regret for spending all that money purely out of spite.

The email you received explains The Siren has a strict dress code, not allowing any client in unless they’re dressed to their standards.

The patrons are required to match our club’s overall atmosphere.

You rolled your eyes. At least their arrogance fit their ostentatious price.

As you skim through their several other rules, you find out that booking a host isn’t mandatory, and often, hosts will seek out patrons themselves if they’re free for the night.

Be prepared to be approached by one of our available hosts at any given moment. Should you be fortunate enough to capture their attention, that is.

Among the rules, you’re also explicitly told that tipping the hosts anything beyond their set prices is strictly forbidden. The more you learned about this club, the more you struggled to understand why Hyunjin held it in such high esteem.

You bring out your best dress from the back of your closet, hoping you ‘matched the club’s overall atmosphere.’ You let out a heavy sigh as you make it past the What Not to Wear crew guarding the entrance alongside the bouncer, and you are officially in.

“This is your first time here, right?” Hana asks you, linking your arms together. You nod, and she grins before adding, “You’re in for a treat.”

The Siren is exactly what you saw in the pictures, only the dim glow of purple neon lights illuminating the extravagant chandeliers, corner sofas, and opulent decorations you know cost more than your month’s rent.

The owner herself personally escorts every single patron to their seats — a tradition spanning over a decade since the club was first inaugurated. Briefly introducing herself as Taeyeon, the beautiful woman leads you through a long corridor adorned with the hosts’ pictures on the walls. Finally, you arrive at a sofa, where a champagne bottle nestled in an ice bucket already waits for you. She informs Naeun that the host she ordered for the night will be a bit late due to personal reasons, before bidding you goodbye with a smile.

You awkwardly shift in your seat as Hana leaves to fetch you drinks from the bar, and your eyes scan the lounge as it slowly fills up with people. You notice a few of the men you saw on the website parading around the club, a grin etched onto their lips as they lock eyes with a few of the patrons. Other hosts are already tending to their ‘dates,’ sitting beside them on the sofas and attentively listening with warm smiles.

Hyunjin wasn’t lying when he said his job was making lonely women feel wanted.

The club itself is rather boring without the satisfaction of a host pampering you. The slow jazz music playing softly in the background makes you feel almost drowsy, and the dim lighting does little to help. For an hour, you watch as hosts come and go. Some lead their clients toward the bar area, partaking in drinking games with other clients and hosts. Others guide women up the black, shimmering staircase at the back of the club, leaving you to wonder where they could possibly be off to. Thankfully, you’ll have Hana to keep you company when Naeun undoubtedly disappears off to somewhere with the host she ‘ordered.’

Your gaze falls on the sofa in front of you, where a host’s dimpled smile lights up his face as he playfully strokes a woman’s cheek, eliciting a shy giggle from her lips before she continues her story. His intense gaze remains fixed on her face, his hand soothingly trailing down her back while he nods, seemingly enthralled by their conversation. It would be a lie to say coming here after a tiring week at work wouldn’t seem like stepping into a dream. Even if it’s all a well-constructed lie, having a handsome guy cater to your every need and listen to you complain without uttering a word is almost fucking idyllic.

Your eyes then wander toward the back of the club, where a small group of hosts is huddled around a circular table, quietly laughing among themselves. Sitting at the center, Taeyeon’s intent gaze oversees her club’s activities while engaged in a heated phone conversation, her scowl deepening with each word she mutters.

You assume these hosts weren’t booked for the night or are still waiting for their clients to arrive. Just as you’re about to advert your gaze, Hyunjin emerges from a door on the left. His hair is meticulously styled, slicked back to reveal his gorgeous face, and his tall figure is dressed in a white button-up shirt tucked neatly under an expensive-looking black blazer.

Hyunjin has always been beautiful in your eyes, but seeing him exude so much confidence stirs up something inside of you.

His mere presence captivates you so strongly you find it impossible to look away, even as his gaze meets yours. A look of utter bewilderment washes over his face as he stills his movements, looking almost startled. You two fall into an impromptu staring contest as if you’re attempting to communicate with your eyes alone until Naeun taps your shoulder, snapping you out of your haze.

“He’s so fucking hot, isn’t he?”

Your brows knit together. “What?”

“The host you’re ogling at,” Naeun giggles, “I saw him on their website the first time we came here, but I was too late so I couldn’t get him to myself. I’m so glad you asked us to come tonight ‘cause I got to order him before he was booked,” she explains, and you feel as if all the air has frozen in your lungs. Hyunjin is the host your friend ordered. “I’m fucking broke now, but I know it’ll be worth it.”

You inwardly grimace at how she talks about Hyunjin, almost like he’s only a shiny toy she couldn’t buy in the past. That, coupled with how booking a host is so casually referred to as ordering, makes you feel a bit nauseous.

Hyunjin eventually walks over to your table, as you knew he would. He’s Naeun’s host for the night, after all. As he slowly strides toward your sofa, his focus remains solely on you. For a split second, his eyes flicker with something akin to sadness before he quickly resumes his usual persona.

He immediately takes Naeun’s hand, kissing her knuckles with half-lidded eyes and a sultry grin. The way he looks at her has the knot in your stomach tightening, aching with the realization that it’s the same way he always looks at you. You were never anything special or significant to each other — you’re well aware of that — but the sting you feel is unbearable for some reason.

Hyunjin sits beside Naeun, and his focus shifts entirely to her. His wandering hands leave a trail of goosebumps from her arms to her bare legs, while his whispered words make her cheeks flush a rosy pink. And it feels as if he’s completely ignoring your presence, which is such a foolish thought you almost feel ashamed. This is his job, but reminding yourself of that every couple of minutes somehow only makes you feel worse.

Because this isn’t a one-time thing, this happens every single time he works.

At some point, while you were too busy engrossed in Hyunjin and Naeun, Hana got a host of her own. With his bleached blonde hair, a constellation of freckles on his cheeks, and a deep, gentle voice, it seems he’s done his job at captivating her. Each host seems to embody a specific persona. From his less-touchy demeanor to the softness in his eyes when he looks at Hana, it’s clear that this guy is going for the caring boyfriend type.

As you remember how available hosts sometimes approach clients themselves, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes. If they’re available, no one has booked them for the night, meaning they won’t earn a single dollar. Their focus will undoubtedly be on finding the wealthiest available patron. Hana came from old money, only working at your company after falling out with her family, but her head-to-toe Chanel attire radiates wealth. It’s no wonder this host so graciously chose to sit beside her.

Eventually, Hana is led to the large bar by her host, and the atmosphere in your little space becomes increasingly uncomfortable for you. Your neglected drink is now lukewarm, leaving a damp spot on the hem of your dress as condensation seeps through from where you rested the glass on your thighs.

Hyunjin leaves a few minutes later, taking Naeun by the hand. He briefly turns to look at you, his gaze now nearly unreadable. Only disappointment — or was it hurt? — flashes in his brown eyes before he walks away to lead her up that stairwell.

You sit alone for what feels like an eternity, the once bustling lounge slowly falling into a deafening silence around you. Jealousy and hurt intertwine inside your brain, spinning around in an endless cycle and making your head throb.

You’re only waiting until you’ve finished your way too expensive Cosmopolitan — far too warm to be enjoyable now — when a figure suddenly sits beside you. To your surprise, it’s a host. His styled dark brown hair is messy as if he’s been running his hands through it, and his black button-up shirt has the sleeves rolled up, exposing the veins running along his forearms. He’s hot, there’s no denying, but your sour mood won’t be solved by some eye candy.

“Seems we’re both alone tonight,” he starts, a smile slowly spreading across his lips.

You simply hum, taking a final sip of your drink before placing the glass on the table. You’re not really in the mood to entertain this conversation, so you uncross your legs, ready to leave.

But your movements halt when his hand gently rests on your knee.

“You seem so lonely here all by yourself. Why don’t you come with me?” He offers, and your eyes narrow. He lets out a hearty laugh. “No need to act so suspicious, I’m just making an offer. We’re both alone. What’s the harm?”

To say you were skeptical would be an understatement. You clearly remember his face from the website as he was right beside Hyunjin, at the number two spot of the platinum tier, his price only slightly less offensively expensive.

“I’m Minho,” he offers his hand, which you reluctantly take after telling him your name. After your awkward handshake, you try to pull back, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he places your clasped hands on your lap, his thumb drawing circular shapes on your skin as he continues, “I waited all night for my client to show up. I could really use a distraction.”

Of course.

You take a deep breath, and your gaze shifts towards his face.

“I don’t have money to order you, sorry.”

A smile tugs at the corner of Minho’s lips, his hand leaving yours and finding the skin of your thighs. “How about I make this my treat, then? My client has this habit of ordering me and then ghosting me,” he sighs, “Isn’t that cruel? Taeyeon said she won’t let it fly anymore and is refusing to give her a refund for tonight.”

As Minho’s soft touch glides along your skin, his fingers inching closer to the hem of your dress, your mind replays the scene of Hyunjin’s hand on Naeun’s legs. The way he touched her mirrored how he had touched you so many times, and it replayed in your mind like a flickering film. It ignites the flame of ugly jealousy inside of you once more.

“Your treat?” You whisper, and Minho’s face inches closer to yours, your noses brushing together.

“I’d hate for a pretty girl like you to go home unsatisfied,” he whispers.

You’re walking up the gleaming steps of that staircase before you can make sense of what you’re doing. Minho’s hand doesn’t leave your skin for a second, fingers now gliding across your arms as he leads you down a wide corridor. You eye the place curiously, taking in the row of closed, dark wooden doors lining both sides of the hallway.

Minho leads you toward the only door that has been left ajar, and it finally dawns on you what happens on the second floor of The Siren.

The room is not large; a round bed occupies most of the space between the small bar and the dark velvet couch. Following your initial conversation with Hyunjin about this job, he consistently evaded any further questions you asked until you eventually gave up. You always assumed he found the subject boring, much like you did when forced to talk about your own job.

You knew his job as a host meant pampering women, making them feel wanted and tending to their every need throughout the night. It seems your brain conveniently failed to remember that it also implied having sex with them.

“I only fuck them if they’re willing to pay, and I’m expensive.”

You feel a shudder run through your body as those words ring inside your mind. That’s what extra fees meant.

Hyunjin led Naeun up those stairs. It doesn’t take much imagination to know what they were doing at that exact moment.

Minho locks the door behind you, and his strong arms circle your waist, drawing you closer to his body. His gaze drops to your lips, and a smile spreads across his face.

“Is this okay?” His voice is gentle, with no pressure lingering in his words. You know you could say no, go back home, and wallow in your self-pity for the rest of the night.

But you don’t want to do that.

Because you know Hyunjin is currently fucking your friend. And, despite the rational side of your brain screaming that this is his job, it does little to extinguish the searing fire of jealousy that burns under your skin.

So, you allow yourself to fall into bed with Minho.

His touches are almost feather-light, his kisses gentle, and his movements deliberate as he fucks into you.

It feels good, but it’s not what you’re used to.

It’s not Hyunjin.

Hyunjin returned home as soon as he possibly could after his shift.

Any anger was dampened by the sadness and shame he felt because you had to see him at the club. It’s his job, but it’s a job he never truly loved. He feels vulnerable and powerless as a host, a stark contrast to what he feels when camming.

Taeyeon personally scouted him from his livestream. He was twenty and already making enough money to provide for himself. He didn’t need a new job, but the allure of the validation he knew it would provide him was enticing. Compliments and adoration fueled Hyunjin throughout his entire life. He knew it was a bit pathetic, but that was how he was taught to be.

During his training period, Taeyeon and the older hosts instructed him. They taught him how to erase his true self to fit into what would most appeal to clients. That was easy for Hyunjin. He’d already been doing that for most of his life.

He wasn’t tricked into anything. He was given a meticulous explanation of every minute detail of the job and was allowed to set hard limits for anything he wasn’t comfortable doing. Taeyeon treated the hosts like her family, like older and younger brothers she cared for. She provided apartments for those who came into the job with nothing, paid off student debts, and was always willing to listen to their problems.

She would be the perfect boss if not for her love of money.

Every host receives only 5% of any money they make for the club. Hyunjin, as the highest-paid host at The Siren, only makes around $100 per weekend — if he’s lucky enough to have clients booking him for extra services every night.

He knows he’s being exploited but can’t bring himself to quit.

When he first discovered the ranking system at the club, he turned to smoking because of pressure. Naturally, he started at the lowest tier but needed to climb as fast as possible. He was determined to do whatever it took to reach that number one spot. He bleached his hair, splashed out on clothes he didn’t like, and even took up groups of clients per night. Hyunjin had always found comfort in sex. He had complete control of the situation and the satisfaction of knowing he was the reason someone felt good was just another form of validation, like he was loved for as long as the sex lasted.

Sex at the club was never like that. It was a chore, something he did because he had to. It wasn’t anything like camming, and it wasn’t like having sex with someone he actually cared about.

It wasn’t anything like having sex with you.

Seeing you that night only made it harder for him to drag himself up those stairs and do what was expected of him.

Hyunjin got home that night and fell asleep on the couch. He couldn’t be bothered to do anything, especially shower, as the thought of facing his reflection in the mirror was unbearable. Different emotions swirled inside him like a tornado until they ultimately consumed him before he finally dozed off.

He thought he could trust you, thought you knew him well enough to understand why he wanted to keep this part of himself hidden from you. The night he first told you about this job, he put on a mask — like he always did — and put on his best act, playing up his arrogance despite how scared he felt. When you told him that same night he wasn’t anything worth falling for, and that you could be together only until you found something better, he felt as if his heart had shattered for the first time in his life.

That was the night he realized a mask couldn’t protect him from everything. Especially his own heart.

It wasn’t intentional — liking you this much hasn’t been exactly enjoyable. It simply happened. Because you were the only one who ever chipped away at his impenetrable wall and saw the closest thing to the real Hyunjin, yet still chose to stay.

You hadn’t stayed because of his looks; you two never cared about impressing each other.

You hadn’t stayed solely for the sex; you two often got together simply to enjoy each other’s company.

Hyunjin couldn’t be blamed for assuming you had stayed because you knew him. Not the mask he wore or the persona he showed to the world — the real him.

But tonight, even among all the designer clothes and expensive drinks, he felt as if you had just witnessed him at his lowest. And he could only hope you still chose to stay after that.

You’ve barely been awake for an hour when a knock echoes through your apartment. You gnaw on the inside of your cheek, because there’s only one person who could be at the other side of the door.

After your jealousy-clouded brain made the asinine decision to sleep with Minho, you’ve locked away any and every thought into a pretty little box inside your mind. You didn’t want to think about what you had done because you knew the remorse would slowly erode your mind. You certainly didn’t want to think about Hyunjin, as even the faint memory of his eyes from the previous night would dig at your heart until it shattered.

But there was nowhere you could hide outside of your mind.

Hyunjin is quiet as you open the door, and he remains quiet as you two sit together on your couch. Your tea sits forgotten on your coffee table, and you focus on the swirls of steam rising from your mug as you endure his silence.

You force yourself to speak when your tea finally goes cold.

“I’m sorry,” you simply say.

Hyunjin’s hands tug at the sleeves of his sweater, and he sucks in a shuddering breath. “Why did you come to the club without telling me?”

“I was angry at you,” You bite your lip, knowing your reasoning is ridiculous. “Because of the date…” you trail off, and Hyunjin turns to face you, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he walked into your apartment.

“So you thought coming to my work would be a good idea?”

You shrug, instinctively looking away as you feel the intensity of his eyes on you. It was just like when you first met him, only it made you ashamed instead of flustered. You missed that initial lightness, but you knew that was long gone now. Sorting out your issues with Hyunjin was necessary if you ever hoped to have a healthy relationship. If every conversation turned into an argument that would only be avoided through sex, there was no point in dragging this on.

“I wasn’t thinking,” is all you can say.

Hyunjin scoffs. “That was kinda obvious.”

The biting tone in his voice makes you rise to your feet, shaking your head. You put as much distance between you and him as possible.

“What? You wanted me to be rational when I thought you were just playing with me?” You throw your hands up as you blurted out, exasperation consuming any remaining trace of pride within you. “When I thought you were having fun acting jealous and proposing dates only to come up with shitty excuses to shut it all down?”

“Playing with you?” Hyunjin mirrors your words, eyes narrowing as he closes the distance you had created. “I thought you knew me enough to know I mean it when I say something. I wanted to go on that date with you, and I was fucking jealous. That night you forced me to listen to you fuck another guy made me wanna punch my fucking wall.”

You open your lips, but no words come out.

You’re embarrassed. Going to The Siren wasn’t the first childish thing you had done out of spite because of Hyunjin. But your anger was never directed at him. It was always you; for allowing yourself to become so attached to him and like him so much that it drove you mad.

Going on that date simply to rile Hyunjin up, showing up at his job because you felt entitled to when your mind insisted you had been wronged — that was all you and your stupid mind being incapable of accepting the fact that you have fallen for the guy you swore would never be of any significance to you.

The guy you so proudly declared unworthy of falling for.

“Are you really not gonna say anything?” Hyunjin lets out a weak laugh, and when your eyes meet again, his expression leaves no room for doubt this time. Sadness swims freely in his eyes while they well up with tears that he vigorously fights to hold back. “I thought you knew me,” he reiterates. “Thought you stayed because you knew…” He trails off, shaking his head.

As he turns to leave, you instinctively reach out for him. After nine months of knowing each other, you hold his hand for the first time.

“I do know you, Hyunjin,” you blurt out, squeezing his hand when he refuses to look at you. “I stayed because I know you. Beyond your rankings, beyond that club, beyond this damn wall you built around yourself. At least a little bit, I know you.”

He takes a deep breath before his eyes lock on yours again. “I feel like you’ve been tearing down brick by brick of my wall.” He’s the one to squeeze your hand this time. “I kinda fucking hate that.”

You attempt to stifle a chuckle, but it escapes your lips nonetheless. Hyunjin smiles.

“I’d love to know you even more, beyond this mask you wear all the time,” you confess. And you’re tired of hiding behind your own mask, so you tell him, “It’s tiring feeling like I only know half of who you truly are when I already like you so fucking much as it is.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widen, surprise eclipsing any trace of his initial sadness.

“What? You like me?” He sputters, and you bite your lips as a smile spreads on your lips.

You cannot believe this is the same Hyunjin whose ego made you want to punch his face.

“Well, no shit,” you chuckle. “Why do you think I put up with you for so long? Don’t you think if I was looking for something better, I would’ve found it already?”

Hyunjin’s lips crash into yours before you can say anything else, his fingertips barely brushing against your skin as he cupped your face.

Your lips part for him, and a low hum resonates from his chest. You wrap your free arm around his shoulder, your hands still tightly intertwined, and pull him closer to you. It’s an awkward position, but neither of you is willing to unclasp your hands.

Hyunjin’s tongue glides languidly into your open lips, making you clutch at his arm as your mind goes dizzy. You had never kissed like this — always too impatient and lust-drunk to savor the feeling of each other’s lips properly.

It sends your entire body ablaze.

He’s pulling away far too soon, tugging at your bottom lip with a small smile.

“I’m not something better, but I’m gonna be,” he mutters against your lips. “For you.”

But you shake your head. “Just let me in. You’re already more than enough.”

In order for your efforts to work, you and Hyunjin established three crucial rules: absolute honesty, open communication, and no fucking until significant progress is made.

You start slowly, with that unfulfilled date that had been the catalyst for you two finally confronting your feelings.

Hyunjin was nervous. The few times he’s gone on dates, his mind was set on wrapping it up as soon as possible to take the person home. It didn’t matter where they went or what they did; every date inevitably led to his bed.

This time was different.

You certainly weren’t expecting to have a picnic on a Saturday afternoon. Your surprise was evident as your eyes widened at the sight before you: Hyunjin, standing at your door with a picnic basket and a digital camera slung around his neck. When you jokingly commented on how that was the most un-Hyunjin thing you had ever seen him do, he nonchalantly shrugged.

As you two sat together under a tree, however, he told you he’s always loved picnics. Growing up near a park, picnics became a family tradition that started when he was just a kid and still happens whenever he visits his parents. The silly smile that was etched onto your lips lingered throughout the entire day. Hyunjin’s closed-off nature made that small piece of information feel like a precious gem you had just collected. It was far greater than any of the pointless conversations you two had in the last nine months.

It felt like watching another brick from his once towering wall shatter to the ground.

Hyunjin quit his job at the club a month after your first date.

He didn’t elaborate on it at first, simply telling you it felt as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. You had now learned it was best to give him space, as his tendency to shut himself off only worsened if he felt pressured. Deep inside, Hyunjin yearned to share every little detail about himself with you and hear your own stories in return. However, years of keeping everyone at a comfortable distance hindered his ability to open up without feeling vulnerable.

So you only pulled him into a hug, running your hands through his hair as he let out a heavy sigh. You two then set off for your date at a bakery close to your apartments, with the subject seemingly forgotten.

Until Hyunjin suddenly told you the entire truth under a lamppost in front of your building. He whispered that he didn’t want to go home yet, and you found yourselves sitting on the sidewalk as you listened to his story. You weren’t exactly shocked at the information dumped on you, but it still made your heart sore. He was taken advantage of because he longed to feel accepted, to feel loved.

During the elevator ride, you could tell Hyunjin was struggling to hold back tears with every ounce of his strength. You know he was eager to be alone when he pressed a weak kiss to your forehead before heading towards his door. So you reached out for his hand once more and pulled him toward your apartment despite his protests.

That night, Hyunjin struggled to suppress his tears until they ultimately overflowed out of his eyes and down his cheeks as you held him on the couch. Before you knew it, tears unwittingly streamed down your face as well. It was as if your emotions were a mirror image of his.

Another brick down.

You discover Hyunjin’s love for photography by accident.

Everywhere you went together, his camera was draped around his neck. At first, you paid little attention to that detail. His job consisted of being in front of a camera; it wouldn’t be outrageous to surmise he simply enjoyed documenting his daily life. You teased him about it one day as he stopped in front of a flower shop to snap yet another picture. He shrugged, casually telling you he’d been taking pictures since his teenage years, later majoring in photography before dropping out of university.

Unable to tame your nagging curiosity, you urged him to show you his pictures. Nestled deep inside his wardrobe were several boxes filled with photographs he had taken over the years. Most captured the simple beauty of ordinary places and simple things, like the pretty flowers he saw at the shop you walked past, but some showed people candidly laughing while immersed in the happiness of their daily lives in parks or museums.

He wore an unabashed grin on his lips when he opened another box, this one containing around ten developed pictures of you. Among the small pile of photos, one catches your eye: your smiling side profile beaming at a group of kids, a hand shielding your eyes from the sun. You turn the picture around, and the words “First date. I was so nervous, and she was so pretty” are scribbled in black sharpie. Hyunjin groaned beside you, telling you he just jotted down something stupid without much thought. It made you smile like a kid.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a weak chuckle, “I never show them to anybody. None of them are really good, anyway.”

You furrowed your brows at his words, studying his face for any hint of sarcasm. His pictures were beautiful, perfectly depicting how happiness and mundanity often blended into one unbeknownst to people. But Hyunjin noticed, with his camera always ready at the right time for the perfect shot, even with things as small as a snapshot of your first date.

“They’re amazing, Hyunjin,” you told him matter-of-factly. “This is the kind of thing you’d find in art galleries. I can’t believe you keep this talent hidden.”

He shrugs your words off at first, taking a photo in his hand and studying it for a few seconds. His lips curve into a small smile, shyly at first, until his face is beaming as he looks down at his work. You can’t help but smile along, noticing how his cheeks blushed for the first time since you met him.

Another brick down.

In two months, you and Hyunjin went from meeting only at your apartments to going on weekly dates and from pointless bickering to actually understanding each other. The more he opened up, the more you found yourself being vulnerable around him as well.

You learned Hyunjin’s confidence was truthfully a part of him; he simply played it up to a maddening degree to protect himself. He is a confident man, but he’s certainly not the egotistical idiot you once believed him to be.

Your suspicions about him secretly being a softie were also confirmed as you witnessed him cry nearly every time you watched the romance movies he sheepishly confessed to loving. At first, he would sniffle, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat, before excusing himself to the bathroom. A few movies later, he allowed himself to openly cry in front of you for the second time. He’s proven to be a certified crier since then, often laying his head on your chest and silently shedding tears while you played with his hair.

At the end of the day, Hyunjin was a flawed, complex person like any other. He wasn’t always soft and sensitive, but he wasn’t only a cocky and smug little shit, either.

You found you loved both sides of him equally.

Your rules proved to be exactly what you needed, as you only felt closer to Hyunjin each passing day.

But a particular rule became your number one enemy after a month.

Your pent-up sexual frustration seemed to escalate with each passing day, fueling an increasing desire to just say fuck it and climb on top of Hyunjin. It certainly didn’t help that he was even clingier now, long limbs always tangling with yours when you lay on the couch, or his warm body pressing against you while you were cooking. Not to mention that you listened to him livestream every weekend. You opted to wait in his living room — because watching him would just be masochistic — but it felt like you had been transported back in time. Sitting alone for hours and listening to him moan was still as torturous as the first time it had happened. Even if you touched yourself to the sound of his voice, it was never enough.

You knew what you needed, but you have been essentially blueballing yourself for a month now.

As you two lie on your bed, watching another sappy romance movie, you can feel the heat rising inside your body, like a thermometer reaching its peak. You were fully expecting Hyunjin to cry, but this movie turned out to be far more erotic than romantic. His persistent need to have his lips on you — be it with a kiss or with lazy nibbles on your neck — also certainly doesn’t help your suffering.

You power through as you watch the love interests making out while Hyunjin lightly presses his lips to your neck, his body all but caging you against your bed. But the moment the couple heads to the bedroom, hastily undressing each other with heavy pants and sighs, you absentmindedly part your legs. Hyunjin is hovering above you before you can make sense of what’s happening, your laptop carelessly thrown to the side. His body pressed against yours, fitting perfectly between your thighs, as his darkening eyes bore into you.

“Hyunjin,” you have half a mind to say, “Our rule.”

He simply nods, and goosebumps ripple across your body when you feel his hardening member brush against you.

“We made progress,” he states with a grin. “You even let me into your room now.”

“It’s not enough to justify fucking again.”

As much as you were desperate for it.

He swallows slowly, nodding and bending his face to yours. “But our rule says no fucking,” he reasons. “If I make love to you, then it won’t even count.”

“Love?” You whisper, and the thermometer shatters as he presses a long kiss to your open lips.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin smiles between kisses, brushing his lips against yours. “Love.”

It’s not a clear confession, not a beautiful I love you whispered between kisses — but you know Hyunjin, and the sincerity in his voice says everything.

Your fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt as you pull him even closer to you, and he promptly presses his mouth against yours, his tongue teasingly gliding across your bottom lip. Each roll of your hips ignites the heat within you like scorching lava, your desire swallowing you entirely after so long of craving this.

His tongue presses against yours, effortlessly taking control of the kiss, capturing your bottom lip with his teeth before releasing it and traveling toward your jaw. He sucks the sensitive skin into his mouth with a hum, drawing out a whimper from your lips while he moves down the column of your neck. Smiling against your collarbone, Hyunjin alternates between harsh nibbles and soft kisses, leaving blooming rosy spots on every inch of your skin. He travels toward your chest, his hands slipping under your shirt and brushing your skin before tugging off the fabric.

Hyunjin’s hands cup your breasts, your nipples tightening under his attention, and his lips move down your body, placing kisses from your chest to your stomach. His hand eagerly kneads the soft skin of your chest while the other pinches your nipple, rolling the sensitive nub between his fingertips.

“I missed this,” he whispers, voice muffled against your skin, and you let out a shaky breath as a response when his fingers toy with the waistband of your sweatpants. “That was a stupid rule.”

“Shut up.” You let out a breathy laugh. “It was a great rule, it helped us make progress.”

“Fuck progress,” Hyunjin groans, tugging your sweatpants off.

He wastes no time hoisting your legs over his shoulders, causing you to shudder and goosebumps to ripple through your body when his lips close around your clit without warning. His tongue licks long stripes up the length of your slit, his fingers spreading you open so he can lap at your arousal with a low hum. Hyunjin’s thumb rubs circles around your clit as his lips find your inner thighs, sucking and biting at the skin, leaving another blushing trail of his yearning for you.

His tongue delves into your wetness, savoring you with tantalizing, pleasure-filled groans that travel through your cunt. The insistent throb between your thighs intensifies, your hand tugging at his hair and your hips rolling into his touch as you arch your back. Hyunjin’s fingers dig into the skin of your thighs while you reach your peak, his teeth pulling your clit gently as you come with a broken cry.

Your cheeks are flushed, and your eyes are heavy with lust when he looks at you, his firm grip keeping your legs over his shoulders.

“You still think that rule was great?” Hyunjin gives you a lopsided grin that almost has you rolling your eyes, only he presses one last kiss to your sensitive clit, rending you unable to do anything but mewl and tug at his hair. He chuckles, pressing his lips to your inner thighs once more, his eyes still locked onto yours.

You needed him closer, his strong arms surrounding you and his scent enveloping your senses until you felt dizzy. The mere thought of his cock has you clenching, arousal trickling down your slit, and you tug at his hair harshly with a whine.

Hyunjin climbs over you again, tugging his shirt over his head in one fluid movement and crashing his lips into yours, the taste of your release swirling in your mouth as your tongues meet.

“You’re so fucking needy,” he chides. You simply hum, his thick length brushing against your core as he leans down to kiss you again.

“You’re one to talk,” you smirk, breaking the kiss and rolling your hips up into his erection. Hyunjin scoffs, his hands capturing your wrists and pinning them over your head, his eyes darkening as he looms over you.

There’s no more push and pull between you two during your daily lives, but it’s something you hope never fades away during sex. You’re sure Hyunjin’s need to have control, coupled with your taste for riling him up, will make sure that never happens.

But Hyunjin has no intentions of making you beg tonight — not after so many weeks of making himself cum to the thought of your pretty cunt, knowing that damn rule kept him from actually having you.

He tugs his sweatpants out of his way, one hand still pinning your wrists to the mattress. You bite your lip at the sight of his cock hanging heavily, tantalizingly close to your sopping cunt. Hyunjin strokes himself hastily, clearly having grown impatient, precum dribbling from the ruddy head of his cock and easing the glide of his fist.

The swollen tip slides against your wetness, and he lets out a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to yours. The delicious stretch as he presses inside has your hands instinctively reaching out to him. But his grip on your wrists only tightens, keeping them in place as he leans into you, stretching you further with a hiss.

“Fuck, I missed being buried in your cunt,” Hyunjin mumbles, and you moan as his teeth nip at your earlobe. “Always so tight, like you were made for me.”

He sheaths himself inside of you completely, and you arch your back with a groan as his cock twitches inside your sensitive spot.

“Made just for you,” you choke out as Hyunjin slowly thrusts into you, agonizingly slow and deliberate movements making you dig your nails into your palms. “Hyunjin,” his name dissipates into a whine as he pushes his cock in and out of you languidly.

He chuckles against the shell of your ear, and you wrap your legs around his torso, rolling your hips faster against him. The drawn-out moan that escapes his lips has your cunt clenching and leaking more arousal around his length.

“D’you still like the sound of my voice that much?” He hums, and you nod with a sigh. His slender fingers wrap around your throat, squeezing lightly. “Yeah? Like it when I moan in your ear?”

He finally picks up the pace, pulling back before snapping his hips forward. His lips swallow your moans as he kisses you once, his hand finally releasing your wrists and digging into your hips as he pumps his cock into you. He leaves a trail of wet kisses along your sweaty skin, tracing his tongue along the marks he left earlier.

“You’re mine,” he groans against your skin. “Been dying to say this for so fucking long.”

You gasp at his words, your body jerking when he slips his hand down to circle around your swollen clit. “‘M yours,” you whine, “Fuck me like I’m yours. Please—”

Hyunjin groans, your words igniting a fire within him, and his hips fall into a ruthless pace, pistoning his cock into you while his fingertips expertly stroke your clit. The hot coil of desire in your stomach tightens, finally breaking as your climax surges through every fiber of your being, a million stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“Fuck, you always feel so good,” Hyunjin rasps out, his movements shifting into a messy tempo. “Gonna fill you up, okay?”

You nod with a whimper, your overstimulated cunt clenching around his cock as his thrusts remain unrelenting. With a low grunt that ripples through his chest, Hyunjin’s hips slam into yours, his cock twitching and his grip on your throat tightening. He paints your insides with a final testament that you were his.

He stills on top of you, pressing featherlight kisses to your cheeks and lips, his cock softening inside of you as you stay that way for a while. When he pulls out, his fingers promptly smear his cum over your cunt as it leaks out, two digits thrusting his release back into you with a contented hum.

“Can we still fuck now that I found something better?” You ask him with a grin, and he laughs, burying his head in your neck.

Your mind is wholly clouded with bliss — both from your orgasm and the feeling of love that courses through your veins. You inwardly laugh. Hyunjin fucking you in your bedroom had definitely not tainted it. He had basically transformed your bed into a sanctuary.

Hyunjin helps you shower, gentle hands wash and caress your body before coaxing your third orgasm out of you under the soothing cascading water. He makes you a cup of your favorite tea the way you love it — which he made sure to memorize — and insists you two finish watching the forgotten movie before going to bed. It feels awfully domestic, and it would be a lie to say you hated it.

That night, you fall asleep beside Hyunjin in your bed for the first time; inside a little sacred space you are slowly building with him.

It was never your intention to be his. You were certain Hyunjin was the type of man who would never allow himself to be vulnerable, to truly fall in love with someone without his ego getting in the way. By keeping him at arm’s length, you believed you were guarding yourself from inevitable heartache.

Behind his cocky smirks and self-assured words, an amazing man hid himself out of deep-seated fears of rejection, unworthiness, and not being loved for his true self. Each day, he allowed glimpses of himself to shine through the cracks in his fortress. He became an enigma you were dying to unravel because you knew he was worth it.

Because you knew him.

And unbeknownst to you, Hyunjin has been yours all along. From the moment you walked into his apartment with a scowl and frustration-filled words, it was as if his heart became wired to crave you. He was simply hoping and waiting for you to become his as well.

♡ taglist: @bloom-ings, @linocz, @farahia, @mirbokk, @jisunglyricist, @jazziwritesthings, @seungseung-minmin, @yourcvndx, @hynjinnnnnnnie, @vlctorriaa, @yongbokkiesworld, @kiensecent, @redstayrosie, @wormieieie, @soonie1010, @dessianna1, @minimin1993, @idontlikecoffeeortea, @ashleighland, @oddracha, @sushiinmidnight, @lailac13, @badmaeda, @hynjinniesworld, @iheartjazz444, @cypher-girlx, @isagerada, @leviathanlee26, @sailor--sun, @binniesbabygirl

#stray kids #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin #hyunjin x you #stray kids smut #skz

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hiddenlife-manager · 6 months ago

Note

you should totally write a one shot about ollie bearman x reader celebrating the jeddah gp (smut)

Oliver Bearman x Fem Reader

cw... blowjob, jerking him off, whimpering ollie, slight sub ollie, slight dom reader, best friends, plot, etc...

notepad... WELL I finally finished this there are a lot of errors but oh well. I have been stuck on this for a while so thank god it is done. Amen to me hehe.

You two were sitting on the floor of his room; it was an abnormally big room. He was used to small hotel rooms, yet here you two were eating at a coffee table on the floor since you refused to sit on a chair. His hands rested on his neck as he felt nothing but pure soreness from the race. He acted like it didn’t bother him during his post-interviews; it was clear he was worn down from the race.

“If you are sore, you should lay down on the bed.” You were calmly speaking to him, eating Dajaj Mashwi with manakeesh, as it was what he ordered. It seemed to be his favorite meal here; you were unsure if you were supposed to eat it with manakeesh. "Besides, having to face an average of 4.5 g per turn is difficult on the neck. Saudi Arabia is considered a hard circuit to race in Formula 1. You should rest.”

“I should eat… ugh.” His deep voice stated that he was trying to eat, but it was clear that he struggled to move his body. He was extremely sore; you saw this and crawled to him on all fours. The sight of you crawling toward him made his face suddenly go red. You were breathtaking to him, but he knew it was wrong to think so.

"Here, let me help.” You offered, you brought food to his mouth, and he was left in shock that you were trying to feed him. He took a deep breath and looked at you. “I'm your best friend; this is the least I can do. Consider it a gesture of congratulations.” He couldn’t help but hold a rosiness to his cheek, as you wanted to feed him. He opened his mouth and looked at you. He noticed your breast slightly peeking out of your top, and he gulped with food in his mouth. He suddenly choked and coughed, and you were shocked. “How do you choke so easily?” You handed him a bottle of water while he coughed.

“I d-don’t” He stuttered out and sipped the water. He looked at you and went back to the food. Why was he holding such feelings for you right now? You two should be celebrating his debut, and yet here he was nervous, unable to look you in the eye. “My neck is just sore.”

“Hmm, okay. Are you sure it is just your neck that has you all worked up?” He tried to crawl away from you casually so you wouldn’t notice his awkwardness. As he used his hands to scoot away from you, he realized how much it hurt.

“Did you hear a knock at the door?” He attempted to distract you from seeing his boner in his pants. You turned your head, and as you did, his hands flew, grabbing onto a pillow and placing it on his lap. You shook your head, sure that you didn’t hear a knock. “I guess my head is playing games with me.” He laughed awkwardly, his hands at the collar of his shirt, pulling it a bit as the pillow continued to sit on his lap.

"Oh, really, are you okay? Let me check your temperature.” You got closer and leaned toward him with your hand, and his face got redder. “You are red as a tomato.” You state that right as you were about to land your hand on his forehead, he shifted. You fell on top of him. The moment you did, you felt something poking at your ass.

“Mhm…” You froze, and that was the moment your face got super hot.

“I am so sorry.” You said you tried to crawl off his lap and managed to pull another moan out of him. You were hot; the sound was so sudden, and you were unaware that you had that effect on him.

“No, it's my fault.” He tried to hide his red face, and you were hot to the touch. Staring at your best friend, you realized he had some sort of attraction to you. He shifted uncomfortably, and you wanted to help, maybe out of your own disgusting fantasy or maybe to show him it wasn’t wrong.

“I can help.” He suddenly fell back as he was scooting away. He started to stutter. You crawled to him and placed your hands on his jeans. You always told him to wear better pants. “Is it okay if I can?” He was silent for a bit while you froze, waiting for his response, and in a few seconds, he nodded sheepishly, unable to look you in the eye.

You unzipped his pants, your hands working quick wonders; it was no secret you knew what to do. At the same time, you two were grown adults with significant others. You gulped as you moved his cock to the side of his boxers through the hole. He was hard, and it was very evident. Ollie was trying so hard to hold back small whimpers of pleasure as your cold hands touched his bare cock.

“Can I?” He nodded quickly, and you began to go up and down his cock, using his pre-cum to slightly get his cock a bit moist. After you went up and down from the base, you gently spit on his cock and smiled up at him. Your mouth got close, and you licked the tip as you heard him moan and slightly shifted away from the pleasure. He was embarrassed but wanted you to continue.

“You can put it in your mouth.” He whimpered out, and all you did was smile so much as you opened your mouth and let him inside your mouth only a little at a time as you went up and down, inching his cock slowly down your throat. The view left Ollie winded; he thought you were the most beautiful person to ever exist, and you were his best friend.

Slowly but surely, you began to suck at his cock, your tongue swirling around it as you saw and heard him whimpering. Attempting not to put his hands on you. He was unsure what to do with his hands, as he almost had to put them anywhere but you. Sucking him while bobbing your head up and down, you used your free hand and grabbed it, holding it as you continued to pleasure him. He was clearly nervous, and you knew he needed comfort. The feeling in your mouth was becoming too much.

He began to thrust up into your mouth; doing so, he ended up thrusting into the back of your throat, causing you to gag, and he began to get nervous, but you shook your head and continued to swirl your tongue and go up and down. As you removed yourself from his cock, a pop could be heard, and you let go of his hand, staring up at him. Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock and pumped him.

“You can cum on my face, Ollie; I don't mind.” You said it softly, with a smile brighter than the sun staring right at him. He was weak and could barely utter a word, but he wanted so badly to cough. His cock thrust into your hands as they felt so perfect. All he did was hum with a whimpering undertone. You continued to go up and down with your hands, quickening the pace as you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out.

“Ah, close, too close." He moaned out, and right when he let the last moan out, a long whimper could be heard, and white strings up and down hit your face and tongue. You didn’t stop pumping his cock; his body tensed while he was cumming. You were smiling and licking at the tip of his cock.

“Congratulations in Saudi Arabia; a gift to you from me, Ollie.”

1K notes · View notes

yvesette · 22 days ago

Text

BUZZCUT. | ── [ j.jh ]

── ⭒ staring .ᐟ ౨ৎ jaehyun x afab!reader

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　　₊　˙　✃ ⋆　 † ⠀๋⠀₊ -

SUMMARY: ── in a bittersweet farewell, the night before your close childhood friend jaehyun leaves for military service you both take a walk along the han river as well as navigate your complicated feelings for each other.

GENRE: friends to lovers, SMUT (18+, mdni), angst, fluff, idol!jaehyun CW/TAGS: dom!jaehyun, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, piv sex, spanking, hair pulling, reader is refered to as a girl, praising, bigdick!jaehyun WORDS | 6.8k A/N | this is in honor of jaehyun's enlistment - enjoy !!

‪　゛ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ₊ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ 𓈒 ◌ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

── the night is cool against your skin, a gentle breeze wrapping around you as you walk down the narrow streets, winding your way toward the river. your steps are deliberate, even though your heart thunders against your chest. you’re thinking too much, and you know it, letting each thought flicker and fold over the last like waves, endless and unknowable, churning somewhere deep inside you.

it’s been a long time, you think. a long time since you first saw him, all easy smiles and casual charm. a long time since you first felt that jolt of something you didn’t yet have a name for but that, in hindsight, you recognize as love. you’ve never told him, not once—not in all these years of close calls and almosts, of lingering touches and moments that you always held on to longer than you should have.

you inhale deeply, trying to slow the pace of your thoughts, but each step closer only winds you tighter. the han river glimmers faintly in the distance, a line of silver beneath the night sky. and there, by the water’s edge, is jaehyun. he’s leaning against the railing, looking out at the river, his face partially shadowed but somehow softer, framed by the quiet of the night. the sight of him, so familiar yet distant, almost pulls you to a stop.

there’s something about him tonight—a weight you hadn’t noticed before. it’s as if he, too, is looking to hold on to everything here, everything he’s about to leave behind. and yet, he doesn’t turn to look at you until you’re almost right next to him, his gaze steady as he catches your eye.

“you made it,” he says, that soft, reassuring warmth in his voice. his smile, though, is smaller than usual, like there’s something unsaid between you both, lingering just below the surface.

“i made it,” you answer, and you try to keep your tone light, but it comes out quiet, touched by an edge you didn’t mean to reveal. you’ve imagined this moment—this last chance to see him—over and over in your head, each version of it different. and yet, standing here now, everything you thought you might say seems to slip through your fingers.

he watches you carefully, that subtle intensity in his gaze, as if he’s trying to memorize the way you look, standing there in the glow of the distant city lights.

he clears his throat, breaking the silence as you both start walking along the path that follows the river's edge. “how’ve you been?” he asks, giving you a sidelong glance. it’s a simple question, and yet the softness of his tone makes it feel like he’s asking for something more, like he’s trying to make up for all the times he’s missed out on in the last few months.

you smile, shrugging lightly. “same old, same old. work, school—nothing too exciting. but you, mr. idol, you’ve been busy.” jaehyun chuckles, the sound low and warm, as he brushes his hair back with one hand. “yeah, i guess that’s one way to put it.” he looks down at his shoes for a moment before meeting your gaze again. “we were doing concerts. that’s why i’ve been, you know… hard to reach.”

you nod, already knowing. his life has been moving at a different pace—one that has taken him across oceans, into arenas filled with fans chanting his name. it’s a reality you’ve grown used to, but still, there’s a tiny ache whenever you remember how separate his world can sometimes feel from yours. but tonight, it’s as if none of that matters. tonight, he’s here, and there’s only the two of you.

“still can’t believe that’s real,” you say, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. “remember when you wouldn’t even sing in front of me?”

jaehyun laughs, shaking his head. “i was terrible back then. don’t lie to me.”

“no, i’m serious!” you grin, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “all those late nights, trying to get you to sing while we were ‘studying’ for exams. it was tragic—”

“oh, come on, it wasn’t that bad,” he interrupts, nudging you back with a smile that’s both embarrassed and pleased. “you’re making me sound hopeless.”

“hopeless? maybe a little,” you tease, watching his face light up in a way that feels achingly familiar, like something you want to freeze in time. “but i guess you’ve come a long way, huh?”

he nods, a soft hum in his voice. “feels like forever ago, though. remember the first time we stayed out all night? trying to find that coffee shop you swore was ‘just around the corner’?”

you laugh, covering your mouth at the memory. “and we got so lost! i was ready to give up, but you…” you trail off, looking at him with that same warmth, thinking of the way he had insisted on keeping on, even when you both had practically wandered into the outskirts of the city.

“i wasn’t about to let you down,” he finishes, a hint of pride in his voice.

the two of you continue walking, memories spilling out as naturally as the river flowing beside you. nights spent at convenience stores with cheap ramyeon and cola; that one time he convinced you to go to karaoke and made up for years of not singing; all the secrets you whispered between laughter and yawns, half-asleep in the early morning light.

and yet, despite the familiarity, tonight is different. the laughter dies down quicker, and each memory feels like a bittersweet treasure, something you’re both afraid to hold too tightly for fear it will slip away. you’re acutely aware of every step, every glance, every brush of his shoulder against yours. it’s all slipping through your fingers, each second a reminder that you’re both on the brink of a sort-of goodbye.

the quiet stretches out between you as you walk, and though his hand rests loosely in his pocket, jaehyun’s other hand rises to press his fingertips to his mouth, lost in thought. his gaze wanders out over the river, his usual warmth dimming, replaced by something heavier. it lingers in the air around him, that tension, that uncertainty—like the night itself is waiting to exhale.

“honestly… i don’t know what to expect.” his voice is lower now, almost a whisper that the wind could easily snatch away. “everyone says you just get through it. that it’s over before you know it. but…” he trails off, his words floating into the dark like something fragile and fleeting. “it’s strange, thinking that life just… pauses. for two years.”

you walk a few more paces, silent, each step a reminder of time slipping by too fast. you look at him out of the corner of your eye, trying to hold onto the image: the faint furrow of his brow, the set of his jaw, that expression he wears when he’s trying to seem brave but doesn’t quite manage it. and your own heart twists at the sight of him—of jaehyun, here with you, with all the things you’ve never said pressing against your chest. but you push it down, that ache, until it’s tucked somewhere deep inside you. instead, you reach out, letting your hand rest on his arm, feeling the warmth of him under your fingertips.

“you’ll be okay yuno,” you say quietly, feeling the words reverberate through you, anchoring you to this moment. “you’ve always found a way to be.”

he looks at you then, really looks at you, like he’s seeing something for the first time. there’s a hint of disbelief in his eyes, almost as if he wants to question what you’ve just said, even using his real name - to pick it apart. but he doesn’t. he just nods, a faint, grateful smile tracing his lips.

“sometimes i think you believe in me more than i do,” he murmurs. “like you’ve always known something i haven’t.”

you want to say something to that, to answer, to reach through all these walls of silence that have built up between you over the years, but you don’t. instead, you only look back at him, holding your smile steady, letting the quiet carry all the things you can’t say.

after a moment, you find a bench tucked away at the edge of the path, overlooking the river’s glimmering surface. the world around you fades into the background, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of you, suspended in this fragile stillness. as you sit, jaehyun turns toward you, his fingers brushing against yours before he takes your hand fully, squeezing it gently.

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he admits, his voice steady but low, a hint of vulnerability hidden beneath the surface.

your heart races at the contact, warmth spreading through you like a soft glow. you’re on the verge of confessing everything—the weight of your feelings that you’ve kept hidden, the love that has thrived in the silence between you. but you hold back, unwilling to add any more emotional weight to a goodbye that’s already too heavy. instead, you meet his gaze, trying to capture this moment, every detail of him etched in your mind—his soft features, the way his eyes reflect the shimmering river, the gentle press of his hand against yours.

jaehyun clears his throat, breaking the quiet between you. “it’s getting cold,” he says, his voice soft, almost reluctant. “i’ll walk you home.”

you nod, and without another word, you both stand, falling into step beside each other. the silence between you now is thick, layered with the things neither of you have said, and each step you take feels heavier, like the night itself is pressing down, reminding you that this is the last time—for a good while—that you’ll have him beside you like this.

the streets are emptier now, just the distant glow of streetlights casting long shadows as you walk side by side. you can feel the tension building, each step drawing you closer to the inevitable. your hand brushes his once, and though neither of you speaks, there’s a quiet comfort in that brief, familiar contact. when you finally reach your apartment, you stop, and jaehyun does too. he stands there, looking at you with an expression you can’t quite read—something mingling with the sadness in his eyes, a softness, a question, maybe. and he hesitates, his hand hovering just beside yours as if he wants to reach for you, as if he’s searching for something in your face that he’s not sure he’ll find.

jaehyun’s gaze flickers, lingering on you as if he’s committing every detail to memory. he rubs the back of his neck, breaking eye contact for a second before looking back at you.

“so…” he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, carrying the weight of all the unspoken words between you. “guess this is it, huh?” you force a smile, nodding even though it feels like your chest is tightening. “yeah. tomorrow.”

he bites his lip, his eyes searching yours, like he’s waiting for you to say something, anything to make this moment last longer. “it’s just… i don’t know. doesn’t feel real yet.”

you swallow, the words caught in your throat. “it doesn’t,” you reply softly, your voice barely steady. “we’ll still call and text all the time…and if you want we can hang out every other weekend or something.”

jaehyun’s expression softens, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small, sad smile. “you’ve been there for everything,” he says, his voice quiet, almost as if he’s admitting a secret. “since we were kids. it’s hard to think of… going through something without you around.”

your heart races at his words, and you force yourself to hold his gaze, even though every instinct tells you to look away, to hide what you’re feeling. “i’ll still be here,” you say, and the promise feels fragile, yet unbreakable, hanging in the space between you.

he lets out a small breath, his hand lifting as if on instinct, brushing your cheek, his fingers barely grazing your skin. “i know you will.” his voice catches, and for a moment, you see something raw in his eyes—a tenderness that feels almost too much to bear.

you stand there, suspended in the silence that follows, the weight of everything unsaid filling the space between you. and before you can second-guess yourself, before you can think of all the reasons not to, you close the distance, pressing your lips to his. his hand slips around to the back of your neck, gentle but firm, as if grounding you both in this moment, and he kisses you back, slow and unhurried, like he, too, is trying to capture everything he feels in this one breath, this one touch. the kiss starts softly, a gentle brush of lips that feels almost tentative, as if you’re both testing the waters of this new territory. but as the world around you fades, that initial hesitation melts away. the warmth of his hand cradling your neck sends a shiver down your spine, igniting something deep within you that has long been simmering beneath the surface.

jaehyun's lips are sweet, tinged with the warmth of honey and a hint of smoky undertones from the cigarette he smoked earlier. his lips move against yours with increasing urgency, a mix of longing and a bittersweet awareness that time is slipping away. you lean into him, feeling the solid weight of him against you, and it’s as if every memory, every unspoken word, pours into that moment—every shared glance, every moment of laughter—colliding in time.

jaehyun deepens the kiss, tilting his head slightly, and you feel his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, igniting a fire that spreads through you. it’s a heady mix of sweetness and heat, and you find yourself responding instinctively, matching his intensity, losing yourself in the sensation of him.

your heart races as you feel his fingers slide into your hair, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him as if he fears letting go. the world around you blurs, the distant sounds of the city fading into a dull hum, leaving only the two of you, caught in this fragile moment that feels both infinite and fleeting.

breathless, you pull away just enough to rest your forehead against his, the warmth of his skin lingering. your eyes meet, and in that charged silence, a shared understanding pulses between you—fragile yet undeniable. with a shaky breath, you fumble for your keys, the metal cool against your palm as you unlock the door, hands trembling. jaehyun steps in behind you, his presence a comforting weight, solid and unwavering in the dim light.

the moment the door closes, he's there, pulling you close again. his lips find yours in the dim light of your apartment, urgent and needy. you melt into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he walks you backwards toward the couch. the familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, a heady mix of leather and lillies that makes your head spin. your legs hit the edge of the couch, and jaehyun gently lowers you onto the soft cushions. he follows, his body a comforting weight above you as he settles on top of you.

“god, i’ll miss this,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw. then, without another word, he kisses down your neck, his lips trailing warmth that ignites every nerve in your body. you gasp softly, feeling the heat radiate from him, his touch igniting a fire deep within you.

“jaehyun…” you breathe, your voice a mixture of longing and urgency. “i wanna remember this.”

his kisses trail back to your lips, deepening as he pours everything he feels into the moment, as if to make sure you both carry it with you, etched into your hearts. “are you sure?” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, “that you want this.”

you nod, your eyes locked with his. "i promise," you whisper back, “i’ve thought about this for so long.”

jaehyun’s eyes soften, a blend of tenderness and desire flickering within their depths. he shifts slightly, fingers finding the hem of his shirt, and you hold your breath as he pulls it over his head, revealing the smooth contours of his chest and abs. the dim light from the street outside casts shadows that accentuate every curve, transforming him into a living, breathing sculpture.

without thinking, your hands reach out, tracing the lines of his torso as if drawn by an invisible thread. his skin is warm beneath your fingertips, a tangible warmth that makes your heart race. you marvel at the firmness of his abdomen, the subtle ridges etched from countless hours of dance practice and grueling workouts.

a soft hitch escapes jaehyun’s breath at your touch, his gaze darkening with desire as he watches you explore. hesitantly, you reach for the hem of your sweater. jaehyun's eyes follow your movements as you slowly pull it up and over your head, revealing the delicate lace of your bra underneath. the cool air of the apartment raises goosebumps on your skin.

jaehyun's gaze is reverent as he takes in the sight of you. his fingertips ghost along your collarbone, tracing a feather-light path down to the swell of your breasts. you shiver at his touch.

“is this okay?” he asks softly, his hands hovering at the clasp of your bra, the question hanging in the air like a fragile promise. you nod, unable to find your voice, the weight of his gaze anchoring you as he leans closer, a whisper of breath brushing against your skin.

with gentle fingers, jaehyun unhooks your bra, his touch reverent as he slides the straps down your shoulders. the fabric falls away, revealing your breasts to his gaze. his eyes darken with desire as he takes in the sight of you, vulnerable yet unafraid beneath him.

"so fucking pretty," he murmurs, voice husky with emotion. he lowers his head, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your neck. his lips trail downward, leaving a path of warmth across your collarbone. when he reaches your breast, he pauses, his breath hot against your skin. then his mouth closes around your nipple, drawing a gasp from your lips.

his tongue swirls patterns as he sucks gently, sending sparks of pleasure through your body. one hand cups your other breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak. you arch into him, a gasp escaping your lips. one of his hands kneads your other breast as he lavishes attention on the first. the dual sensations make your head spin. jaehyun releases your tit with a soft pop, his eyes meeting yours as he begins to trail kisses down your body. his lips brush against your sternum, then trace a path down the center of your abdomen. each touch is feather-light yet charged, sending shivers cascading through you.

he takes his time, mapping the landscape of your skin with worshipful attention. his tongue dips into the hollow of your navel, eliciting a soft gasp. you feel the curve of his smile against your skin as he continues lower, his teeth lightly scraping your sensitive flesh.

jaehyun's fingers trace along the waistband of your skirt, his touch light as a whisper. he looks up at you, eyes dark with desire but still seeking permission. "can i take this off?" he asks softly, his voice low and loving.

you nod, breath catching in your throat as he slowly unzips your skirt. he slides it down your legs, his hands caressing your thighs as he goes. the cool air raises goosebumps on your newly exposed skin.

jaehyun's gaze travels over you reverently, taking in every curve and dip of your body. his fingers ghost along the lace edge of your panties, barely touching. "you're so beautiful," he murmurs, “let me take care of you baby.”

he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, just above your knee. then another, slightly higher. his lips trail a path of fire up your limbs and when he reaches the edge of your panties, he pauses, looking up at you with dark, desire-filled eyes. "god, you're so wet," he murmurs, his voice low and cursing. "fucking soaked, all for me.."

his fingers trace along the damp lace, barely ghosting over your most sensitive areas. even that faint touch sends sparks of pleasure coursing through you. you squirm slightly, desperate for more contact and whimper.

"such pretty noises," he purrs. "i wonder how you'll sound when i really touch you."

"please," you whimper, not even caring how needy you sound.

a slow smile spreads across jaehyun's face. "please what?" he asks, his tone commanding. "tell me what you want, baby."

"touch me," you gasp. "please, i need you to touch me."

your breath catches as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. with agonizing slowness, he slides them down your legs, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. the fabric clings to your damp skin as he peels it away, exposing you fully to his hungry gaze.

jaehyun's eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail. his hands caress your thigh, “perfect fucking pussy, better than i ever imagined..” he praises, before his tongue finally makes contact with your folds, you gasp at the sensation. he starts with long, slow licks, savoring your taste as he explores every inch. his hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he works.

jaehyun's tongue swirls around your clit before sucking gently, sending waves of pleasure through you. he alternates between broad strokes and focused attention, building your arousal steadily higher. you thread your fingers through his hair, guiding him where you need him most.

jaehyun holds your trembling thighs firmly apart, his strong hands steady and warm against your skin. his touch is gentle yet insistent, opening you up to his hungry gaze. jaehyun's tongue delves deeper, parting your folds and exploring every sensitive ridge and valley. he hums softly against you, the vibrations sending shivers through your core. his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, anchoring you as pleasure builds within you.

you feel the heat of his breath against your most intimate places as he works, alternating between broad strokes of his tongue and focused attention on your clit. each pass sends sparks of sensation coursing through you. your hips begin to rock involuntarily, seeking more friction.

"such a good girl," jaehyun murmurs against you, his voice low and husky. "i love how you taste."

he slides one finger inside you, curling it upwards as his tongue continues to lavish attention on your clit. the dual sensations make you gasp, your back arching off the couch and you curse.

jaehyun slides one hand up your body to cup your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers. the added stimulation heightens every sensation, making you gasp and writhe beneath him. your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close as your hips begin to move of their own accord.

you arch your back, grinding against his mouth as the tension mounts. soft whimpers and gasps fall from your lips, growing more desperate as you climb higher. jaehyun redoubles his efforts, sucking your clit between his lips as he slides another finger inside you. the dual stimulation has you seeing stars. his fingers curl, finding that perfect spot inside you as his tongue lashes your clit. you cry out, your hips bucking against his face as the first waves of orgasm crash over you. jaehyun doesn’t stop, only slows his efforts as you come down from your high. after you catch your breath, he moves his head from your thighs and moves up over you to kiss you.

jaehyun's lips meet yours in a deep, sensual kiss that is almost like a thank-you from you. you taste yourself on his tongue - tangy and sweet with a hint of musk. as he presses his body closer, you feel the hard length of his cock through his sweatpants, hot and insistent against your thigh. the thin fabric does little to conceal his arousal. the heat of him sears into your skin, igniting a fresh wave of desire low in your belly. your hands roam over the planes of his back, tracing the lean muscles there. his skin is fever-warm, and you pull back from kissing him to look down at the print of him through his pants. you make eye contact, and there’s a question hanging in the air along with the heavy breathing of you both.

you break the beat of silence, “i want to,” you say, giving him the permission that he needed.

jaehyun pulls away slightly, his eyes still locked on yours, the heat of the moment lingering in the air. with a quick, decisive movement, he gets up from the couch, the dim light casting soft shadows over his form.

“condom?” he asks.

“it’s in my bedside table,” you reply, watching him as he nods and strides toward the bedroom.

as he disappears from view, the atmosphere shifts. you stare up at the ceiling, feeling the room spin slightly, an unexpected loneliness settling in without his presence. the faint sounds of the city outside filter in, but they feel distant and hollow compared to the warmth he brought just moments before.

a part of you aches for him, for that connection you’ve both been dancing around for so long. time stretches as you wait, heart pounding in your chest, your thoughts swirling with anticipation and uncertainty.

finally, he returns, the confident smile back on his lips, and in his hand is the small foil wrapper. the moment he steps into the light, the heaviness in the air dissipates, replaced by a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins. you sit up as he slips down his sweatpants and boxers.

as jaehyun's sweatpants fall away, your breath catches in your throat. his cock springs free, thick and hard, jutting proudly from a nest of dark curls. your eyes widen, taking in the impressive sight before you. he's long - longer than you expected - and girthy, the shaft curved slightly upward. the head is flushed a deep pink, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. the sight of him, fully aroused and wanting you, sends a fresh wave of heat through your core.

you swallow hard, a mix of desire and nervousness fluttering in your stomach as he gives it a few pumps, wrapping his veiny hands around his length and then slipping the condom on.

you lay back against the arm of the couch, heart pounding as jaehyun moves over you. his eyes are dark with desire as he positions himself between your spread legs. you feel exposed yet safe under his gaze.

jaehyun braces one hand beside your head, using the other to guide his cock to your entrance. the latex-covered tip brushes against your sensitive folds, making you gasp. he runs it up and down your slit, coating himself in your wetness. when he reaches your clit, he circles it slowly, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through you.

jaehyun's eyes lock with yours, his gaze intense and full of longing. the air between you is charged, buzzed with anticipation. he runs the tip of his cock along your folds once more, coating himself in your slick heat.

"god, you're so wet for me," he murmurs, his voice rough. "such a good fucking girl, all ready to take my cock.”

his praise sends a shiver down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. your breath catches in your throat as he begins to push forward, stretching you slowly inch by delicious inch. you gasp at the fullness, your body adjusting to accommodate his impressive girth. he moves with careful control, giving you time to adjust. when he's fully sheathed inside you, he pauses, letting you adjust to his size. his breath is ragged against your neck, his body trembling slightly with the effort of holding still. his breath ghosts over your skin as he leans in close, his lips brushing against your ear. "that's it, baby," he praises, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. "take me in. you're doing so well."

you whimper softly, rocking your hips to encourage him to move. jaehyun takes the hint, slowly withdrawing before thrusting back in. he sets a steady rhythm, each stroke long and deep.

"fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his voice low and husky in your ear. "such a perfect little pussy, taking my cock just right."

jaehyun's thrusts become faster and more urgent, his hips snapping against yours with each movement. your bodies move together in a perfect rhythm, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

"yuno," you moan, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as he pounds into you, “feels so good, oh my god.” he leans down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth as he continues to move inside you.

jaehyun's thrusts grow more powerful, driving deep into your core with each movement. the couch creaks softly beneath you as he picks up the pace. you feel every inch of him sliding in and out, the delicious friction sending waves of pleasure through your body.

his hands grip your hips tightly, angling you to hit that perfect spot inside. you cry out as he brushes against it, sparks of sensation radiating outward. jaehyun groans in response, the sound low and primal.

you can feel the tension building in your lower belly, a coiling heat that threatens to consume you. jaehyun must sense it too, because he redoubles his efforts. his hips snap against yours forcefully, driving into you with renewed vigor.

just as you're teetering on the edge, jaehyun slows his movements, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in torturously slowly. you whimper at the change of pace, your body aching for more. he repeats the motion several times, drawing out each thrust until you're writhing beneath him.

"please," you gasp, "i need more."

jaehyun kisses you deeply before pulling out completely. "turn around for me, baby," he murmurs, his voice insistent. you listen, adjusting your position until you’re on your hands and knees and he’s behind you.

jaehyun's hands grip your hips firmly as he positions himself behind you. you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you. he runs it along your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal.

the anticipation builds as he lines himself up, the tip just barely breaching you. before you can respond, jaehyun snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. you cry out at the sudden fullness, your fingers gripping the couch cushions tightly. he gives you only a moment to adjust before pulling back and slamming in again.

jaehyun sets a punishing pace, his hips pistoning against you. the new angle allows him to hit spots deep inside that make you see stars. jaehyun's hands grip your hips tightly as he pounds into you from behind, his movements growing more frenzied. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by your breathless moans and his low grunts.

"god, you feel so fucking good," he groans, his voice rough with desire. "my perfect baby, s-so fucking tight."

his praise sends shivers down your spine, arousal pooling low in your belly. you arch your back, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. the new angle allows him to hit even deeper, brushing against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. suddenly, jaehyun's hand comes down on your ass with a sharp crack. the sting blooms across your skin, quickly followed by a wave of heat. you arch your back, changing the angle slightly, and cry out as he hits that perfect spot deep inside you. jaehyun notices your reaction and adjusts his movements to hit that same spot with each thrust.

jaehyun's hand slides up your back, fingers tangling in your hair. he grips it firmly, tugging your head back as he continues to thrust into you. the slight pain mingles with pleasure, heightening every sensation. you gasp at the new angle, feeling him even deeper inside you.

"that's it, baby," he growls, his voice low and husky. "take it all for me." his hips snap against yours with renewed vigor, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. the couch creaks beneath you, the sound barely audible over your breathless moans and the slap of skin on skin.

jaehyun's grip on your hair tightens, pulling your head back further. “gonna c-come,” you manage to get out. the arch in your spine deepens, changing the angle just enough to hit that perfect spot inside you with every stroke.

“be a good fucking girl and come for me baby,” he says, leaning against your ear. stars explode behind your eyes as waves of pleasure crash over and you scream his name. jaehyun's grunts become more urgent as he continues to thrust into you, riding out your orgasm. he can feel you clenching tightly around him, milking him for all he's worth. with a loud groan, he follows you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he empties himself inside you.

jaehyun carefully pulls out, both of you wincing slightly at the loss of contact. he sits up, running a hand through his tousled hair as he catches his breath. the dim light from the street outside casts a soft glow on his skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat on his chest.

with a quiet grunt, he stands and makes his way to the small trash can beside the couch. you watch the play of muscles in his back and legs as he moves, admiring the lean strength of his body. he removes the condom and ties it off before tossing it in the bin.

jaehyun turns back to you, a soft smile playing on his lips. his hair is a mess, sticking up in wild tufts where you ran your fingers through it. he ruffles it absently, making it even more chaotic. you run a hand through his hair and scowl playfully when you feel how sweaty he is.

"gross," you tease, wiping your hand on his shirt. "you're all sticky."

jaehyun's smile widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "you weren't complaining a few minutes ago," he quips, his voice low, “and say goodbye to my hair - i’m shaving it tomorrow.”

you feel a blush creep up your neck, remembering the heated moments that led to his current disheveled state, and then a sadness rushes over you - that he’s leaving tomorrow. jaehyun notices your reaction and chuckles softly, pulling you closer. his arms wrap around your waist, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body as he grabs a blanket from the other side of the couch and places it over you both.

"what's on your mind, beautiful?" he murmurs, his breath tickling your ear. you hesitate, not wanting to ruin the moment with your woeful thoughts.

"it's nothing," you reply, forcing a smile. but jaehyun knows you too well. his fingers gently tilt your chin up, brown eyes searching yours.

"tell me," he insists softly.

you sigh, your defenses crumbling under his gaze. "i just… i can’t believe you’re leaving tomorrow. it feels too soon."

his expression shifts, the teasing glimmer fading as he brushes a thumb across your cheek. "yeah, i get it. it’s not easy."

"but what if things change?" you murmur, your heart tightening at the thought.

jaehyun raises an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "change? as in me forgetting you? not a chance. you think i could forget the girl who drove me crazy for all these years?"

you roll your eyes, but there’s a flutter of anticipation in your stomach. "well, you’re going to be busy with training and everything else."

he leans closer, his breath warm against your skin. "busy? sure. but you think i’ll be able to focus when all i can think about is you? not a chance."

your heart skips a beat, and you can’t help but tease back. "is that your way of saying you’ll miss me?"

jaehyun chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "it’s my way of saying you better miss me too. because i’m about to confess something."

you lean in, curiosity piqued. "what’s that?"

jaehyun's expression shifts, becoming more serious as he searches your eyes. "i’m in love with you. like, really in love with you. i think about you all the time—when i'm practicing, when i'm on stage, even when i'm just hanging out with the guys. it’s like you're always there in the back of my mind."

your breath catches, the weight of his words settling around you. "but… why didn’t you say anything before?"

he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve come to know well. "i didn’t want to ruin what we have. i thought maybe it was better to keep it as friends. but now? i want to try things with you. i want to see where this goes."

the confession hangs in the air between you, charged with possibility. you can feel your pulse quickening, excitement mingling with uncertainty. "and what if it doesn’t work out? the timing of this is just-"

jaehyun shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "i don’t care about timing. what matters is how i feel, and i can’t let that go without saying something. i want you in my life, no matter how far apart we are."

you raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. "you make it sound so easy. you do realize i’m not just some object you can claim when you feel like it, right?"

he chuckles, leaning closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "oh, i’m fully aware. that’s why i’m trying to make my move before someone else scoops you up."

you laugh lightly, shaking your head. "good luck with that. i’m pretty sure no one else would bother trying."

"yeah? you think i’m the only one?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you must have a whole line of admirers waiting."

"right, because i’m just so irresistible," you reply, a smirk on your lips. "but let’s be real. you’re the only one who’s actually putting in the work."

jaehyun’s smile fades just a little as he leans back, studying you. "look, i know this isn’t easy. but i don’t want to just be some random fling. i want to be in your life, no matter where we are."

you take a breath, weighing his words. "and if things get complicated? you know they will."

he shrugs, unfazed. "shit’s always complicated. but i’d rather deal with that than let this slip away. you’re worth the trouble."

you meet his gaze, feeling the sincerity behind his words. "okay, i get it. but don’t think i’m going to make this easy for you."

he smirks, the challenge evident in his eyes. "i wouldn’t want it any other way."

the morning light filters in through the window, casting a soft glow on the cluttered room, and you find yourself perched on a stool, an electric razor in your hand, staring at jaehyun’s reflection in the bathroom mirror. he sits in a chair, a towel draped around his shoulders, looking slightly apprehensive but oddly amused by the situation.

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, a teasing lilt in his voice that doesn’t quite mask the tension beneath. you grip the razor tighter, suddenly aware of how little you know about haircuts.

“i kinda have to,” jaehyun replies, a hint of seriousness creeping into his tone, “no long hair.”

you nod and take a deep breath, bringing the razor closer. with a gentle buzz, the razor hums to life, and you press it against his scalp. the sound is oddly satisfying, a gentle roar that fills the small space, and you watch as a tuft of hair falls away, landing softly on the towel draped around his shoulders.

“oh my god!” you squeal, barely able to contain your dumbfoundedness. you can’t help but laugh at the sight of jaehyun’s shocked expression, a blend of surprise and amusement. you can’t stop the laughter bubbling up as you buzz away the rest of his hair, the once dark locks falling in tufts around him. each pass of the razor reveals more of his scalp, and soon he’s left with a clean, smooth surface that glints in the morning light.

jaehyun tilts his head, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “so, how do i look? sexy?”

the question hangs in the air, and without thinking, you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips sending a rush of warmth through you. his surprise melts into a smile, and you pull away slightly, a grin still playing on your lips as you meet his gaze.

　　　˳ 　　౨౿　　⁺　　༄　　　༝　　 end.

copywrite @yvesette 2024

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s-awturn · 2 months ago

Text

Other Plans || F1 Grid

cw: babies being cute, still a little anguish, overcoming, deliverance (hehehehe) and I don't know what else to say. Spanish, French, and some poorly translated Dutch, blame Google.

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1,

a/n: I rarely get requests for part 2, so don't judge me if I'm excited here. I loved writing the first part and I hope to make the second part just as good.

f i r s t p a r t

LEWIS HAMILTON.

You never regretted leaving.

As you might have guessed, Lewis never called or cared and even though you knew he wouldn't call, it didn't hurt any less. You had hopes that he would care, that he would come around, but he never took a step towards you and you wouldn't make the first move. You and the baby — a healthy, restless girl —didn’t need him.

The first few months were not easy, by God, dealing with all the changes of pregnancy, the demands of work, as well as cleaning and organizing your home was the hardest thing in the world.

But it was all worth it when you held your little girl in your arms for the first time. Bree was beautiful and had powerful lungs, because she cried so loudly when you laughed with happiness at having her. Not even the fact that she had the same eyes as Lewis shook his happiness. She was yours, and nothing in the world would change that.

You, your mother and Bree were walking down one of the streets of London looking for Christmas decorations, Bree was on your lap, looking at everything curiously, you hadn't taken her to London yet, both because you wanted her to get used to the climate and the quiet life in Naples and because of fear, you still didn't feel ready to face Lewis, because you knew he was always in England, mainly in the capital.

“Mamma, look!” she pointed to the store across the street, with the Christmas decorations you were looking for. You gave a proud smile and kissed her cheek.

“Good job, little bee, let’s go get our colorful balls from Santa Claus” you crossed the street and due to carelessness, you ended up tripping over someone. “Oops, sorry, I didn’t y-...” you started to say, however your voice trailed off as you recognized fucking Lewis Hamilton.

“Y/N?” His eyes, identical to Bree’s, widened as he recognized you and the baby in your arms. You straightened up, hugging Bree against you.

“Lewis, how are you?” you said cordially, but there was no sympathy in your voice.

“Mhmm, Well, I'm fine... And you?”

“Wonderfully,” you remained impassive. “Well, Merry Christmas, Lewis,” you said, walking past him until your name was called by the pilot.

“I thought you would give me news...” he hesitated for a few seconds “news about her” Lewis’ eyes fell on Bree, who was looking at him with the same curiosity.

“And why should I, Lewis? You said you didn’t want to have a baby, that it would hinder your career.” You hit a nerve with Lewis, because since your departure, he couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing. “I had no obligation and have no obligation to give you news about my daughter.”

He came closer and you kept Bree away from him, you accepted and healed from the pain Lewis caused you, but you wouldn't allow him to do the same to your sweet little girl. Bree didn't deserve to be hurt by Lewis's selfishness.

“She’s mine too, Y/N, you can’t stop me from seeing her” he said and you finally lost your patience, so you asked your mother to take Bree to the store, you would meet them in a few minutes.

“Don’t use that horrible argument with me, Lewis Hamilton!” you pointed your finger in his face. “You made it clear that you didn’t want her! You never called to find out about her, not for me or my mother, so don’t come with ‘she’s mine too’ because I won’t fall for that! You didn't even think twice before saying you didn't want her! And now you want to demand your rights? What the fuck rights do you think you have?”

He took a step back, Lewis didn't expect you to have such an intense outburst of anger.

“Y/N, I-I wanted to turn things around, go after you,” he bit his lip, thinking about how to continue, “but I was embarrassed... But now I'm willing-...”

“But I’m not willing, Bree doesn’t need you, I don’t.” you said emphatically “My daughter doesn’t need you, your regret or anything that comes from you!”

He tried to articulate some sentence, but no sound came out of his mouth.

“Oh, that is if you have any shame, of course. But don’t worry, when Bree grows up, I’ll tell her about you and she’ll decide whether she wants you in her life or not.” You assured “Until then, continue being the ghost you have been for these two years”

And without giving him a chance to respond, you follow your mother and Bree into the store, trying to ignore the panic that was ravaging your entire body, you felt like you were about to faint. But hearing Bree's spontaneous, sweet laugh was like feeling a cool breeze on a hot day; you didn't know how, but you were sure that Lewis would stay away.

And you didn't lie, Bree didn't need him, and neither did you. Your job was more than enough to maintain and take care of all of Bree's needs, you didn't lie when you said he wasn't needed, in nothing.

Finally you could sleep peacefully knowing that Lewis was what he wanted to be in your lives, a shadow.

On the sidewalk, Lewis saw you enter the store and through the window, he could see you and Bree together, it was clear how much the little girl was loved and well cared for. Lewis tried to imagine what the two years he had lost of his life, of the life of the daughter whose name he didn't even know, had been like. He thought of all the little moments he had missed.

There were few things Lewis truly regretted in his life, and letting you go and not being able to see Bree grow up was, without a doubt, the biggest regret he carried.

CARLOS SAINZ.

Sometimes you wondered how you had the courage to consider the idea of giving your twins up for adoption. You weren't lying when you said that the twins were the best part of your life. At five years old, the identical twins made your days in the French capital — the city you moved to after breaking up with Carlos — much happier and more joyful.

You didn't even care if the two of them were little carbon copies of the Carlos; Santiago, the older twin, seemed to have inherited much of Carlos' personality, he was a little reserved and even shy and loved board games, preferred books to any electronic game and loved football, while Martín had a lot of you in him, expansive and restless, your youngest son loves logic games like Rubik's cube and puzzles and was completely addicted to any kind of racing.

And they were little fanatical Atlético de Madrid fans, which you found sweet irony.

And it was this love for the Spanish club that convinced you to take them to Spain, so that the two could watch the Madrid Derby at the Cívitas Metropolitano, Atlético's official stadium in the city of Madrid. Thanks to your work as a digital influencer, you could give your twins the experience of watching the game directly from the stadium's box.

“C'est le meilleur cadeau d'anniversaire au monde! Merci maman!” (This is the best birthday present in the world! Thanks mommy!) Martín said, hugging you before running to the fence and seeing the field, where the players were warming up.

“Tu es la meilleure au monde, maman” (You are the best in the world, mommy) Santiago said before joining his brother at the railing. You sat down next to Andie.

“I didn’t think you were serious when you said you were going to bring them to Madrid just to watch the game,” her best friend said, also keeping her eyes on the twins.

“It’s their birthday and I had to come to Madrid anyway for work, so I thought I could combine business with pleasure... And I don’t plan on stopping my boys from having good experiences because of Carlos.”

In five years, you never received a text or call from Carlos to see how the twins were doing, or to see how you were handling things. Since their birth, it had been you, the twins, and Andie —she moved to Paris as well. You weren't lying, the first few months were horrible, you truly believed that you wouldn't be a good mother or be able to take care of two babies at the same time.

But Andie was an angel to you and your boys, helping you through the best and worst times. So much so that before long, Carlos was just an old and unwanted memory in your life.

When the game went into halftime, you and Andie took the boys to the snack bar in the box to get something to eat. You hadn't noticed that you were being watched since you entered the diner, Carlos had seen you, Andie and the boys entering. The pilot didn't expect to find you there, especially with two boys who looked like they were five years old.

Without thinking twice, he approached, keeping his eyes on the boys who wore Atlético shirts and their names on the back.

Santiago and Martín.

“Y/N?” he said fearfully, catching her attention. Carlos saw surprise flash in her eyes, but as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced by icy indifference. "How long"

“That’s right, it’s been a long time.” You placed your hands on the boys’ shoulders, aware that they were both shocked.

“C'est Carlos Sainz” Martín spoke softly to Santiago with wide eyes, not that Carlos was his favorite pilot, but the boy didn't expect you to know the pilot.

“These are Martín and Santiago, my sons.” You said, introducing the boys, watching the astonishment appear on Sainz’s face.

“What’s up guys? Enjoying the game?” he said, after a few seconds of shock. You knew what was going on in his head, Carlos was doing the math.

“We don’t talk to Real Madrid fans,” Santiago said with indifference and pulled Martín away from Carlos. You were so surprised that you laughed out loud, watching Carlos’ discomfort grow even more.

“I’m going after the brats and… And I think you guys need to talk,” Andie said, following the twins back to the to their seats.

You turned completely to Carlos, for a long time you missed him, especially when you wanted him to see the boys' first steps or when they spoke for the first time. You wanted him to see how special and good your children were, but he never cared.

It took a while, but eventually it stopped hurting.

Since then, all you felt was pity, because Martín and Santiago were absurdly adorable, loving and incredible children, anyone who could have them in their lives was lucky as hell.

“I didn't think I would go through with the pregnancy" he said and you sighed.

“And I wasn’t going to, but everything changed when I held them in my arms for the first time... I knew I could never leave them” you said and a smile appeared on your face.

“My parents would love to meet you... I would like to-” He starts to say but you interrupt him, already tired of that conversation.

“You wouldn’t like anything, Carlos, you have nothing to offer my boys but abandonment and cowardice,” you replied harshly.

He swallowed hard, Carlos looked embarrassed and regretful, but you didn't care, just like he didn't care about leaving you alone in that hospital.

“Y/N please understand, I wasn’t ready and-”

“I wasn’t either, Carlos,” you interrupted him, having no patience for his excuses. “I was simply thrown alone, in the middle of the hurricane, so if that’s your excuse, improve it.”

Your gaze towards him was hard, there really was nothing that could justify abandoning him.

“If it weren’t for Andie, I don’t even know where I would be right now! Maybe they’d both be in an orphanage or something, living on the streets.” Your voice was forceful, punishing, and accurate. “I almost, almost acted like a coward with them too, but I remembered that they had already lost their father, they couldn't be without their mother too.”

Carlos hunched over slightly, like you had just hit him in the face and damn, he wished you had.

“I will tell them about you, everything they want to know and if they want to look for you, I will not stop them, but until then, do not think that your presence near them will be welcome”

And you went back to where Andie and the boys were, you were surprised to notice that Martín hadn't taken his eyes off you for a moment. Your protective little boy...

You swallowed a painful sigh and stopped the tears from welling up in your eyes.

“Est-ce qu'il t'a fait du mal, maman?” (Did he hurt you, mommy?) He asked as soon as you sat down, you gave a calm smile and denied.

“It’s okay, honey, don’t worry.” you assured, sliding your fingers through his hair, Martín kept his eyes on you. “Are you enjoying the game?”

“Damn!” he said excitedly and you narrowed your eyes.

“What language is that, young man?” you asked, and he smiled as if he had been caught red-handed.

“It was an accident, mommy... Don't be mad, please,” he asked, making the same lost puppy face that Carlos had. My God, you thought it was impossible for them to look so much alike, but the twins were in fact carbon copies of Carlos.

“Go watch the game, I’m watching you” he nodded and ran to Santiago’s side, you sighed and saw Andie sit next to you. “I thought it would be worse”

“Me too... But you did well, to be honest, I thought you were going to throw the chair at him” Andie confessed and you laughed.

“Almost... I'll tell them the truth when we get back to Paris... And I'll let them decide whether they want to approach him or not.” you said, trying to keep your nervousness from setting in ahead of schedule. You would deal with the consequences when they came, that moment was just about the boys, would not spoil it with anxious thoughts and nervousness.

On the other side of the box, Carlos couldn't pay attention to the game, his mind was divided between the game and you and the twins. Carlos thought about how selfish he had been, he thought about how he would like to go back in time and change everything, to be able to live every little moment with you and the boys.

Carlos would like to be less stupid, but there was no way anymore.

CHARLES LECLERC.

After almost seven years, you were back in France, your parents were asking — or demanding, depending on your point of view — that you and Vivienne spend Mother's Day in the south of France. It was the first time since Vivienne was born that you had returned to Europe and although you loved the feeling of being home again, you couldn't help but be apprehensive, after all you didn't know if you were prepared for the possibility of meeting Charles. But you didn't let those thoughts ruin Vivienne's experience, the girl looked like she was going to explode at any moment with so much happiness.

The two of you took the train from Paris to Bordeaux, and Vivienne couldn't tear herself away from the window, enchanted by the romantic landscape of the French countryside, she commented on every little thing, unable to contain the excitement that made her shine.

“Let’s go to the dining car, amour, You need to eat.” You called her, trying to attract the girl’s attention, who seemed much more interested in the castle that disappeared through the train window.

“Will there be croissants, maman?” Vivienne finally turned away from the window.

“Of course, amour. Let’s go before they eat it all, shall we?” you led her out into the hallway, Vivienne chattered on and on, listing the things she had liked the most so far, that's why she still made a point of greeting the other passengers.

“It’s more beautiful here than Montreal, Mom...”

“Would you like to live here?”

She stopped in the hallway for a few seconds before turning to you, the indecision was clear on her little face “I don’t think so, I would miss home... And my friends, but we can come on vacation?”

“We can come to France whenever possible, amour.” you assured her.

The dining car was half full, but that wasn't what caught his attention, but rather coming across such familiar crystal-clear eyes. You knew the chances of meeting Charles in France were 50-50, but you didn't expect it to happen so quickly; suddenly you remembered why you spent so long away from your homeland. You saw Charles' smile disappear and his gaze fall on the girl in front of him, who, although she didn't look exactly like him, carried many of Leclerc's features in her own features.

“Let's sit at the table by the window, okay maman?” Vivienne asked, skipping over to the empty table, she didn’t even look to the side as she passed Charles.

"Of course, papillon, (butterfly) we can sit wherever you want.” You said, thankful that your voice came out steady, without showing the mess that was inside you.

You made Vivienne sit with her back to Charles, listening to the girl talk excitedly about the fields full of vineyards and the lavender plantations. Vivienne knew from the age of five because it was just you and her, you didn't want to wait too long to tell her the truth behind why just you were the one who went to the Father's Day presentations at her school. You remembered the pain tearing through your chest as you comforted your little girl who went to sleep crying for weeks on end, or all the times she asked why her father didn't like her. You wouldn't let anything bring that pain to Vivienne again, even if you had to throw Charles Leclerc out the train window.

“You’re not the waiter.” Vivienne’s inquisitive voice snapped you out of your reverie and you looked up to find Charles standing next to your table. Panic spread through you like wildfire. Vivienne knew that the man standing next to the table was her father, you didn't do much to hide it. “If you’re not the waiter, why did you come?”

��You have your mother’s sharp tongue,” he said, and you noticed the shadow of a smile on his face. “I’m Charles—”

“Leclerc, I know, I watch TV” she said, crossing her fingers on the table, you blinked a little dazed and took control of the situation, Vivienne didn't need to face a situation like that, not with you around to protect her, as you had been doing since her birth.

“What do you want, Charles?” you questioned seriously, the seven years away from him made you create a strong shield against the pilot's charm. He swallowed the lump in his throat and looked at you, there was no anger or contempt in his gaze, it had taken you the same seven years to understand that it had all been a huge failure in communication, however, that did not allow this to cause any more harm to Vivienne.

“I...” he stuttered, his gaze going from you to Vivienne without stopping “I came to greet you and...” he left the sentence hanging in the air, waiting for you or your daughter to reveal her name.

“You don’t need to know my name,” Vivienne said and your eyes widened.

You saw Charles' mouth open in pure astonishment, if you weren't expecting an answer like that, imagine him.

“What do you want, Charles? I don’t remember inviting you to join us,” you teased, enjoying his discomfort. You could forgive what had happened years ago, after all it wasn't anyone's fault he didn't want kids, but you fucking couldn't forget how it destroyed Vivienne for weeks. “Your girlfriend is waiting for you, and you are disturbing us.”

“Y/N I wanted to say that I'm sorry that all of this happened and...” his voice becomes a weak and distant thread, you just shake your head and raise your hand.

“There is nothing to be forgiven, Charles. That's in the past, there's no reason to bring it up again," you said sincerely, letting out a tired sigh. You wanted it to end soon, you wanted to get to Bordeaux soon. “Forget about it, leave everything in the past and go back to your girlfriend, we've been fine the last seven years without you, the next seven will be even easier, don't waste time worrying about us, we don't need you.”

He hadn't meant to be cruel or rude, but he wouldn't allow a sliver of it to reach Vivienne. Charles just nodded and walked away, you looked at Vivienne, who had tears in her eyes.

“Ma princesse,” you grabbed her hand, watching the little girl swallow her tears and give a weak smile.

“It’s okay, mom, I have you, it’s okay,” she said and went back to looking at the landscape through the window. You noticed that Charles had left. “I don’t need a father who didn’t want me”

You left the chair you were in and went to hug Vivienne, letting the girl feel how much she was loved, how much she didn't need Charles “I'm so proud of you, darling, so proud”

Outside, Charles was hyperventilating, he hadn't expected it to end like this, nor had he expected it to feel like a punch to his stomach. Suddenly, he questioned whether the choices he had made over the past seven years were good. But it didn't matter anymore, he had lost you and any chance of having... Having a family he never wanted.

It was already too late.

LANDO NORRIS.

Jordan looked at the cupcake with bright eyes, you wanted to cry when you saw the smile on your little boy's face. It was late afternoon and you wanted Jordan to be able to celebrate his first birthday on the beach, creating sand castles and playing with water.

“Happy birthday, my baby, I wish you to be blessed with happiness and love throughout your life.” you whispered, helping him blow out the candle. Jordan chuckled, grabbing the icing, smearing the blue sweetness all over his face. You let Jordan play in the sand and thought about everything that led them to that little beach in Spain.

After breaking up with Lando and receiving a court order that he didn't want to be related to you or the baby, you didn't know what to do with your life, I had a college degree, good internship experiences, but no one would hire a pregnant woman. With limited options and no support network, you've relied on the most unstable form of work: the internet. Your life wasn't the most glamorous or adventurous in the world, but people enjoyed watching you. You didn't care about fame or being known in places, you just wanted to make sure you could take care of the baby, make sure he always had a roof over his head and food on the table. No matter what shit you would do to make sure Jordan lacked for nothing.

Anything but crawling after Lando, begging for help or whatever the hell he could give.

You let Jordan play until he got tired, and only when the boy was almost asleep in the sand, you picked him up and decided to go back to the hotel. You balanced Jordan on your lap as you searched for your room key when you heard your name being called. You didn't expect to find Lando Norris in the lobby of the hotel you were staying at.

Not even by a miracle.

“What do you want here, Norris?” you asked, but you didn’t give him time to answer, you just continued on your way to the elevator. You heard him follow you and kept Jordan out of his sight.

“I want to talk to you,” he said tentatively. You stood in the opposite corner of the elevator, as far away from Lando as possible. “Is it his birthday?”

“And why does that matter to you, Norris? You’re nothing to him,” you said dryly, giving him a hard look.

He didn't even know what to answer, you couldn't understand what he was doing there, not after a year and seven months, not after that damn letter. What did he want there? Guarantee you wouldn't ask him for money? Ridiculous.

“If you want to know if I need your money, don’t worry, we don’t need anything from you”

Lando exhaled, you wouldn't give him a step, leaving him frustrated.

“I didn’t come for this... I know you’re... You’re dealing with everything well, I wanted...”

“What do you want, Norris? To see if I'm trying to scam someone to support my son? Being a gold digger?”

“Y/N I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that, been...”

“What do you regret? Saying that I got pregnant so you could support me? That I wanted to pull the pregnancy scam on you? Or have you come to give me another court notice to deny your parentage with Jordan? If that's the case, don't worry, if it's up to me, your name will never be on Jordan's birth certificate.”

If shame had a portrait, it would be Lando's face.

“Please understand my side...”

“Your side, Norris? I was pregnant and you sent me away!!” you growled, trying not to wake Jordan in your arms. “I didn’t want money, I wanted support! I wanted you!”

You scoffed at the tears in his eyes, none of them made up for the times you cried alone, scared of the uncertain future you could have. If he thought you would be moved by his crying, he couldn't be more wrong. The elevator doors opened and you walked out, not caring about him following you.

“I’m sorry, I was scared!”

“I was too!” you lost your patience and heard Jordan’s whimpers. “Were you scared? Don’t be a hypocrite, Lando.”

“Let me... Let me apologize, let me take care of you two.”

“You can swallow your apologies, they’re worth nothing to me or Jordan, and as for your care…” you laughed “I won’t tell you what to do with it out of respect for my son.”

And with that, you slammed the door in his face. Hoping that Lando would go back to the same place he had come from.

MAX VERSTAPPEN.

Just as nothing hurt you more than Max's distrust, Annelise's birth healed you in immeasurable ways. The little girl became the little Sun in your world, illuminating corners you thought you would no longer visit after the breakup with Max.

When you left his house in Monaco, you spent a few days on standby, thinking about what to do, you had no one else to support you. You didn't know how, but before you knew it, you were standing on Sophie's doorstep in Belgium, you didn't expect to have the support of your ex-mother-in-law, but Sophie welcomed you with open arms, outraged by Max's attitude.

Sophie welcomed you as if you were her own daughter, helped you choose an apartment in Brussels — even though she wanted you to stay with her for as long as it took, she helped you in the first few months after Annelise was born.

Now, two years later, Annelise was spending so much time at her grandmother's house that Sophie had set up a room for her.

“Sophie, for God’s sake, don’t spoil Anne like that,” you scolded her, seeing the woman click her tongue and shrug, you knew your sermons would do no good, Sophie would continue buying gifts for Annelise.

“Nah, it’s nothing big and you know I’m not stopping any time soon,” she admitted, bouncing the little girl on her lap, Annelise was very entertained by the new teddy bear Sophie had brought. “How was the job interview? Did you get the job?”

You had applied for a job at the health center near your home, the hours were great, the pay was worth it, you just needed to find someone to look after Sophie.

“I was selected, but I need to find a good nanny to take care of Anne...”

“Y/N don’t be silly, you know I will take care of Anne with the greatest pleasure, I love taking care of her.”

“Sophie, I don’t want to give you any trouble...” you started to try to argue.

“Mom! I’m home... Y/N?” you saw Max standing in the middle of the room, staring at you in surprise, then looking at Annelise on Sophie’s lap.

“Max, you didn’t tell me you were coming, come in, I made your favorite cake, go get it from the kitchen, dear” Sophie said, she knew you weren’t ready to talk to Max yet, but the Dutchman had different plans.

You held your arms out to Annelise, who didn't think twice before jumping into your lap, you did your best to avoid Max's gaze.

“We’re going, Sophie... I’ll let you know when we get home,” you said in a whisper and crossed the room towards the exit, but Max grabbed your bicep, stopping you from leaving.

“We need to talk, Y/N... Just five minutes, please,” he said quietly, as soothingly as he could.

“We have nothing to talk about, Max.”

“Please, just five minutes,” he begged, giving Annelise a quick glance in his lap.

“Five minutes, no more.” You said, releasing your arm from his grip. “Sophie, can you take Anne please?”

“Of course, it’s no sacrifice for me, is it, mon bebé?”

Finally you and Max were alone, you were uncomfortable to the point that your skin felt itchy.

“I didn’t expect to see you here… I thought you would stay in Monaco”

“I had nothing to keep me in Monaco, I saw no reason to stay there, and Sophie welcomed me as if I were her daughter,” you said, putting your hands in your coat pockets. “Get to the point, Max, I have to go...”

He licked his lips nervously. “I wanted to talk about our daughter.”

“No, no, calm down, you don’t have a daughter, at least not with me, Annelise is my daughter and mine alone, your participation in her conception was purely accidental.” You said it without any emotion.

“I know I said stupid things that night, Y/N, but I want to make up for every single one of them, with you and with the girl” he said and you scoffed.

“Oh really? And what makes you think you have any right to her?”

“Y/N I’m her father” he said patiently, as he always was with you, until that night at least.

“Unless you request a DNA test, there is nothing to prove your paternity over Annelise,” you determined, taking a step towards him, “and don’t think I’m an idiot, Max, you always knew I was in Brussels with your mother, Sophie told you that the same day I arrived, because I highly doubt she didn't give you the biggest lecture of your life that night.”

He looked away, proving his point “and yet you never cared, you didn’t come to her birthday, or call when she had pneumonia, you didn’t even know her name until today, So please don't lie to me saying that you regret it or that you want to be a part of her life.”

You pressed your fingers to your temples, already feeling the pains of the inevitable migraine.

“Annelise will eventually find out about you, but until then, don't go near her, I won't allow you to be cruel to my daughter the way you were to me.” That was your final sentence before you went to get Annelise with Sophie. You didn't want to have to share oxygen with him any more than necessary. Max belonged to a past you didn't want to revisit.

He stood still in place, watching you leave with the girl, without giving you another look.

“There are stupid people, and then there’s you, Max,” Sophie said, approaching her son. “I find it absurd how you inherited Jos’s worst traits...”

He couldn't help but agree, Max was fucking dumb.

taglist: @spngi, @monacosprince, @camelliaflow3r, @simbaaas-stuff, @bsammy, @sabrinaselina55, @irenkaproszepana , @avni-sarai, @itsapurrfectstorm, @janeh22, @taliya8346282844eliviahdgdajs, @llvstrous099, @gotthemilk-69, @ladscarlett, @daemyratwst, @anewpersonthatexists, @loohs-world, @sarcastic-nerd

Some who requested to be tagged on the taglist unfortunately could not be located, if I forgot someone, please complain on ask, thank you, management.

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#f1 imagine #f1 #f1!angst #f1!fanfic #f1!headcanons #f1 grid x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #max verstappen x reader #sawturn

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viaxslz · 2 months ago

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˖˙ ᰋ ── NOT SAYING I LOVE YOU BACK

享受 ! .°. ݁₊ 𐙚 gn!reader, cw: pet names, kissing, not proofread :P, Hyung line ver.

HAN

“I love you, stay safe!” Han said placing a kiss on your cheek,as he dropped you off at a location. It was the perfect timing to pull the prank you had been planning since almost forever. “Thank you, you too” You smiled and nodded your head not responding to the “I love you part”. Han looked at you confused “darling….I said I love you” he repeated his face serious yet pouty. “I’m not going until you repeat those three words” he huffed pouting making it harder to continue the prank. “YN— I love you” he repeated looking at you with doe eyes. “……. Rahhh it’s impossible to pull a prank on you! Fine I love you too”

FELIX

After getting ready, Felix approaches you and gave you a short kiss before leaving. He walks towards the door "I love you so much" "m’kay bye bye" You said not replying with ‘i love you too' . Felix halted in his position and looks back at you. “I love you” he repeated. You let out a chuckle. “Okay stay safe”. He walked up to you, his face sullen. “Darling is there something wrong?” He asked tilting his head. “No nothing’s wrong” you replied watching him take a sit next to you. “Then why aren’t you saying those three words?” He asked as he held onto your hand. “Saying what?” You asked pretending like you didn’t know what he meant. “I love you too” “you’ll be late if you don’t go” you responded trying to dodge his question. “I’m not going anywhere until you say it back” he pouted. “You can’t do that” you laughed softly playfully hitting his arm. “Oh yes I can” “now hurry up and say it”. “Ugh okay fine I love you too” you rolled your eyes. “It wasn’t difficult now was it?” He let go of your hand standing up from the couch. “Bye I love you!”

SEUNGMIN

You smiled at the contact name that showed up on the screen. Picking up the phone you tucked it in between your ear and shoulders as you continued your previous task. “Hey love. I’ll h home in an hour or so, I love you!” Seungmin spoke at the other end of the phone. “Oh okay! I’ll be waiting” you replied hanging up. Just two minutes after the call another call came in. “Why don’t you say ‘I love you’ back….baby don’t you love me?” You heard seungmin whine on the other end. You chuckled “I’m so sorry love, it must’ve slipped my mind. I love you too” you added responding with the sound of a kiss.

JEONGIN

Jeongin was getting ready to go out with his friends as he stood in front of the mirror adjusting whatever felt wrong in his outfit. while you laid on the bed scrolling through your phone. “Babe I’m done, I’ll get going now. Love you!” He said walking over to you and leaning in to place a kiss on your lips. “Hmm” you hummed in response not taking your gaze away from your phone. He stood at the door patiently waiting for you to say it back. “Aren’t you going?” You asked glancing over at him. “You’ve been standing there for quite a while” you added. “No. I’m not leaving until you say I love you back” he folded his arms over his chest with a huff. “Well I guess you’re not going then” you shrugged. He walked up to you, leaning closer. “Say it back…..please..or else—“ he paused placing a kiss on your lips, followed by another one. “Or else I won’t stop kissing you” he threatened followed by multiple kisses. You giggled “alright alright I love you too!” You spoke in defeat earning a satisfied smile from him.

PERM TAGLIST 📌🔖 ──── @the-sea-called-history02 @oc3anfloor @intartaruginha

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #stray kids headcanons #stray kids soft hours #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #han x reader #han fluff #felix x reader #felix fluff #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #jeongin x reader #jeongin fluff

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hiraethwrote · 3 months ago

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there's a lightness in him

summary: finally, the day has come where you get the chance to meet gojo. but megumi doesn't handle it as well as you had hoped

[ loner!megumi x popular!reader ]

cw: college au, modern au, f!reader, fluff, gojo cameo, some angst, aged up characters, no use of y/n

word count: 2.9k

You really wanted to meet Gojo.

For reasons unknown to you, Megumi became even more quiet than usual whenever he was brought up — nearly blatantly refusing to talk about him at all.

Your curiosity was obviously peaked — who was this mysterious individual, who through unfortunate circumstances had ended up basically raising what had turned out to be your perfect boyfriend? Was this where Megumi had gotten his closed off demeanour from? Were shared dinners around the dining table spent in utter silence?

The few things you had gathered about Gojo: he was NOT Megumi’s dad. That was the most important thing you’d learned. Because how dumb were you when you simply assumed the adult man he lived with was his father?

You had also learned that there was a new level to Megumi’s frown that always grew deeper whenever he talked to Gojo on the phone. Granted, he was never happy whenever he was on the phone, but it was something entirely different when he talked to his… guardian?

“What do you mean you haven’t met his family?!” Kasumi exclaimed in pure disbelief once you told her, head tilting up from her doomscrolling.

“As far as I understand, there isn’t much family to meet. It’s mostly just this Gojo figure.”

“And that’s his dad?”

“God no, he’ll bite your head off if you assume so, but whoever he is, he’s the closest thing he has to a parental figure.”

She tried to blink away the worst of her surprise. “But you’ve been together since high school.” It seemed like she wanted the statement to be a question, but it definitely came out more as a judgemental remark.

“Look, his family situation isn’t ideal,” you trailed off, thinking about the few things he had actually opened up to you about — both his sister and his absent father, and you had quickly understood family was a fragile topic for him. So whenever you dared approach the situation about Gojo, you just wanted to be cautious in case there was anything serious he just did not want to talk about.

However, lately, the idea of anything seriously worrisome being the issue had slowly ceased to exist. Megumi genuinely only seemed to be annoyed with whatever it was Gojo said or did — nothing graver than that.

“Does that mean you’ve never been to his house?” Yet another shocked question fired at you.

“No, I’ve been to his house plenty of times,” you chuckled. “It just so happens that Gojo is never home. He’s apparently sent out of town a lot for work.”

She quirked an eyebrow, shaking her head and turning her attention back to her phone. “Your boyfriend is kind of a weirdo, not gonna lie.”

A small, smitten smile automatically grew on your lips. “Yeah, I guess he is,” you said, probably mostly to yourself.

“I have to go now.”

“What, already?” You whined, bottom lip sticking out in a dramatic pout as Megumi got up from his seat beside you. He met your pleading gaze, leaning forward to capture your lips in a tender kiss to ease his departure.

“It’s probably gonna take a while today,” he sighed, walking over to the door. Before his hand had even managed to clasp around the handle, you were already at his side, staring at him with doe eyes while your arms were tucked behind your back — like you always did when you wanted something.

“Then why don’t I come along?” batting your eyelashes at him.

Whatever your ulterior motive was, he was weak for the look you gave him — sucking in his cheeks to smother the smirk you were slowly pulling from him.

“You wanna come along?”

“I wanna be with you as much as possible!”

“You gonna help with errands, too?”

Your innocent smile was pushed into pursed lips instead. “I can watch?”

He instantly let out a taunting scoff. “Cute,” he sighed, placing a quick kiss on your cheek and opening the door to leave. Before he got too far, you already grabbed ahold of his wrist.

“So, you’re going home for these errands, right?”

And once you said ‘home’, Megumi immediately understood why you had suddenly decided to be so persistent in tagging along for his duties, when you always preferred he just get it over with so he could return to you once he was done.

And his body slowly started to tense up, because unlike you, Megumi really did not want you to meet Gojo.

Why? Well, Megumi could list hundreds of reasons why he wanted to shield you from the menace he had lived with most his life. But he knew those reasons were all superficial, and he never really dared put into words what really plagued him about the situation.

“Megumi,” you spoke his name softly, slowly letting go of his wrist. “I want to meet your family.”

There it was again, your genuine interest in him — somehow always catching him off guard despite you proving it to him from the very first moment. He just didn’t feel deserving of it.

It was written all over your features just how important this was to you — guilt striking him as he couldn’t understand why he had been so selfish as to deprive you of meeting his family, when he had no real reason to.

But what wasn’t he willing to do for you? With a clear of his throat, he tried to set aside his ever present anxiety about the situation, grumbling a low “fine” as he pulled out his phone to send a quick heads up to Gojo.

“Wait, really?” The fragile sentiment in your voice was replaced by an airy relief, not quite expecting him to surrender so easily — especially considering how long you’d bothered him about it all.

“Has to happen eventually, right? Might as well get it over with.”

The nonchalant shrug of his shoulders and the look in his eyes was all it took for you to feel your stomach tickle with butterflies — you saw he was trying to power through his stubbornness for you. He wasn't going to let his own struggles triumph how important this was for you.

“You’re just so-“ endless giddiness spilling over in your expression, unable to finish your sentence. You cupped his face and placed the sweetest kiss on his cheek, before you rather abruptly interrupted your own actions by yanking him after you towards his car.

For the entirety of the ride, you held a mostly one sided conversation, hoping your casual talk would calm him down — but it didn’t stop his knuckles from slowly turning paler when his fingers gnawed at the steering wheel, hoping you didn’t catch how his teeth were grinding against each other.

But he wanted to try — for you.

Pulling into the driveway, surrounded by the familiar scenery of the neighbourhood he grew up in, none of his nerves seemed to disintegrate. Even when he opened the door for you (like he always did) and you laced your fingers with his, the nerves remained knotted inside him.

“If you really don’t want to do this-“

“No, ‘s fine,” he interrupted you softly, reactively squeezing your hand to ground himself. “Let’s just get-“

A blaring voice shouting your name cut through the sad tension, both you and Megumi jumping at the sudden outburst.

Capturing your wide eyed glare, you were met with a freakishly tall man staring directly at you with the most intense blue-eyed stare one could imagine and untamed hair of the purest white — and lastly, a somewhat off putting grin that was overflowing with outgoing charm.

This was Gojo? The Gojo? The very same who had raised your stoic and quiet boyfriend? The one who seemed to have too much pent up energy in his body, despite the size of it? This was not at all what you had expected.

You were about to take a polite bow to introduce yourself, but Gojo simply waved his hand. “No need for formalities. Feel like I know you already.” His smile never wavered, even when he took a step back to let you in.

Megumi was already grumbling to himself, unable to stop how his fingers clenched harder on your hand as a reaction to Gojo’s first appearance — and heat was rising up his neck, slowly colouring the tips of his ears red with embarrassment.

“So glad you finally managed to convince him,” Gojo nearly sung, leading all three of you into the kitchen. “I’ve tried desperately since that day he first visited you. But Megumi never listens to me.”

He was so far from the character you had created in your mind, taking some time let the new impression replace the old one. He leaned so casually against the kitchen counter, while Megumi acted on instinct and pulled out the stool for you, taking a seat next to you.

“I couldn’t quite believe my eyes when he came back home that evening, and he smiled. You know how hard I try to make him smile?”

“Oh, it’s not so hard,” you laughed along, turning to look at your boyfriend only to see he was looking at Gojo with chronically furrowed eyebrows. The lump in your stomach formed immediately, hating just how displeased Megumi appeared to be — reaching out to grab his hand under the table, head turning to look at you, smoothing the crinkles on his forehead. You started to believe he wasn’t even aware of the way he was looking at Gojo, because all evidence of annoyance was gone when he shifted his eyes towards you. “He smiles plenty.”

“Hmpf,” Gojo pouted, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “Well, maybe you just share the same bad sense of humor.” The comment caught you a little by surprise before the genuine laugh slipped past your lips, while Megumi went back to shooting him an ugly scowl.

“I’ve been wanting to meet you too for a while.”

“Is that so?” His tone sounded accusatory as he met Megumi’s eyes. It didn’t take a genius to understand the subtext that Megumi had served him excuse after excuse on why he’d never introduced you.

“Yes, but my schedule is crazy busy,” the lie rolling of your tongue so easily, Megumi almost believing it himself. “Something always came up whenever we tried to make it happen.” It was a small gesture, yet Megumi’s heart fluttered lightly at how you tried to make this as comfortable as possible for him.

“I’m very pleased you finally got the time,” he beamed, seemingly buying into the lie.

And then the conversation flowed as smoothly as butter. He asked questions about your studies and your family, showing a real interest in your life. And he was funny — the clutching-your-stomach type of funny. You didn’t even notice when Kuro and Shiro walked into the kitchen, Shiro lightly nudging your hand for pets before both of the dogs laid down by Megumi’s feet.

But the conversation consisted mostly of your and Gojo’s voice, Megumi only contributing with a weak “hm” or “sure” whenever fitting, which definitely put a thorn in the atmosphere of the company.

“How about we get around to those errands?” You suggested, bringing an end to the constant rambling you knew Megumi had probably prayed would stop.

“Yeah, we probably should,” he mumbled lowly, quickly jumping out of the seat he had been glued to since you arrived. “I just have to get something upstairs-“

“Just go,” you giggled, knowing he was about to ask if you were alright with being left alone for a second.

Megumi hurried away, leaving you and Gojo alone. It didn’t take long before he broke the silence again.

“He’s not usually this cold towards me.” His tone had completely changed, now full of sentiment, one you could only assume came from genuine love for Megumi. “It doesn’t look like it, but I’m sure he secretly likes me. The death glares are at least kept to a minimum when it’s just the two of us.”

“He has a tendency to be a little cranky.” He smiled then, a small and almost shy smile.

“I’m going to make this quick, because he’ll be back down any second,” he took a deep breath as he straightened his posture. “After you came along… I’ve never seen him like this.” Your breath hitched in your throat at the slightly ominous statement. “There’s a lightness in him I’ve never seen before. You clearly mean a lot to him, which is why he exaggerates his frown. He’s just being protective.”

With further clarification, your shoulders found rest, starting to shuffle towards the front door, Gojo close behind. “Believe it or not, he brings me lightness too.”

“No, I believe it,” he smiled as Megumi came down the stairs, both of his dogs following him. “I see it in you too.”

“Ready to go?” Megumi asked in a monotone voice, already having put on his shoes and opened the door.

“It was nice meeting you, Gojo,” you bowed.

“Looking forward to the next time.” Megumi didn’t manage to fully conceal the quiet groan that escaped him, both you and Gojo deciding to not pay it any attention.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” Megumi sighed, already halfway down the pathway, simply waving goodbye over his shoulder.

“I’ll miss you!” Gojo yelled dramatically after him, your boyfriend never sparing him a second glance. While he opened the car door for you, you decided to pay Gojo the decency of a smile and a tiny wave.

Megumi did not hesitate to start the engine, his childhood home quickly disappearing behind you.

Then silence hit — thick silence, nearly suffocating on all the thoughts you could so clearly tell was swarming Megumi’s mind.

“I like him,” you breathed, leaning back on the headrest.

“Yeah? I’m glad.”

“You don’t sound glad.”

“Sorry.”

His eyes were glued ahead, as if there was nothing more interesting than the boring scenery and the asphalt going straight ahead.

“Megumi?”

“Hmm?”

“Why didn’t you want me to meet Gojo?”

He didn’t answer — he only let out a deep breath through his nose which you suspected had been trapped in his lungs since the moment you first pulled up in his driveway. Then he pulled over, the car slowly rolling to a halt.

Your pulse quickened, eyeing how his hands had left the steering wheel only for him to pick at the skin around his nails — a nervous tick you only saw him do when he was extremely anxious.

“I don’t want to mess this up.”

His confession was quiet, and had it not been for the fact that there was not a sound in the car or any distractions outside, you would not have been able to hear it.

“Meeting family… it brings expectations. And if I am to mess this up-“

“Don’t say that, you’re not going to mess this up!” You cut him off, hands cutting through the air to intertwine your fingers with his, stopping his bad habit.

“You don’t know that.” His voice still came out low, eyes directed at your hands. “After last time-“

“Stop it,” you interrupted again, bringing one hand to his face to force him to look at you, breaking your heart when his eyes had turned glossy. “We’re past that now, okay?”

“I know we are, it’s just-“ he took another deep breath, “for some reason, I just felt like that if I kept you from meeting him, I could contain the damage and disappointment if I were to screw it up.”

“I didn’t know you felt this way,” you sniffled quietly, fighting not to let the tears take over. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know,” he averted his gaze again, back to fixating on his lap. “Scared, I suppose.”

“You’re not in this alone. You can always talk to me about these things, okay?”

“Mhmm,” the weak sound was barely heard.

Once again you cupped his face, wanting his eyes on you when you said “I’m on your team, Megumi.” His nostrils flared, not wanting the tears to spill. “Please just let me be on your team!”

Yet again he took another deep breath to steady himself, slowly beginning to nod along before leaning into your touch. “Okay,” he whispered.

He didn’t say it, but you could sense how he had actively reached within himself to fint sparks of confidence to give himself over to your request.

Megumi was just used to doing things on his own, never depending on anyone but himself. And up until he met you, that had worked perfectly fine. But faced with a relationship, he had found himself between a rock and a hard place, where exposing himself emotionally to another human being was necessary for it to work — and you were worth every ounce of dedication. Every other aspect of his life had turned miniscule in comparison to you.

He hadn’t exactly made it easy for you to cooperate when it came to his feelings. But that stopped now, fully surrendering to the fragility one could not avoid in a relationship. He knew you’d be there.

“You want me to drive?”

“No, it’s fine,” he sighed, the evidence of tears gone as he sat back up in his seat. He removed your hand from his face to place a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“You’re not still going to run errands, are you?” Your pulse finally started to calm down when you spotted a small smirk lurking at the corner of his lips.

“Not a chance.”

“My place and order in?”

“Sounds perfect.”

tags (taglist is open)

@sad-darksoul @nyahctrl @ssetsuka @aceakariii @chxlexauriana

@ps-forgetmenot @thejujvtsupost @acowboykisser @rixo-19

@aestheticallyvini @iheartlinds @rory-cakes @tiffanyandrson

a/n okay idk what's happening but i'm not quite vibing with my writing lately... words aren't wording iykwim... however, did yall catch me teasing some angst in here tihi?? look forward to that

#— ଓ my creative corner #loner megumi x popular reader #dividers by cafekitsune #jjk #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro oneshot #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi #fushiguro #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi #jjk fushiguro #megumi x reader #jujutsu kaisen megumi

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msmk11 · 4 months ago

Text

Best Friend's Mom Part Four

MILF!Wanda Maximoff x college age!fem!reader (Billy and Tommy's best friend)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Word count: 5.5k

CW: Age gap (legal), best friends' mom, MILF!Wanda, fluff, mentions of food, angst, smut, cursing

Summary: You've finally confessed your feelings to Wanda. Will she reciprocate them? If so, what happens next? And what'll happen if she rejects you? Anything could happen.

A/n: Fourth and FINAL part is here! (I lowkey wrote most of this today so I hope it's good lol!) Anywho, I'd just like to thank y'all for loving this story as much as I have. And, if you're sad that it's over, never fear! Because of all your love and support, I've decided to do something special that you can check out here. Happy reading!

“Well, do you?”

The question hangs in the air between you and time has completely stopped. You hold your breath and your heart beats so rapidly in your chest that you’re certain Wanda can hear it.

Your instincts tell you to run, to avoid what you fear most.

Rejection.

But for once, you’re brave. You stay put and hold eye contact with Wanda. It’s her that breaks first.

“My simple answer is yes.”

All of the air rushes back into your lungs and you dispel a long sigh of relief.

“But,” she adds, “I’m hesitant to say anything else because we both know that nothing about this situation is simple.”

You nod, and this time your sigh is a little more dejected.

“Yeah, I know.”

You pull your knees up to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs, “It sucks. This whole situation is shitty. If only you weren’t my best friends’ mom, and I wasn’t in college, and we didn’t have to hide.”

The silence is thick, weighty with the words left unsaid- the words that neither of you want to vocalize. To vocalize them would be to admit to reality, and the small glimmer of hope still left would be shattered. To put it all into words would also force you to call this thing between you and Wanda what it is- a fling. A word that, right now, disgusts you to your core. A fling- the concept and word itself so casual when nothing about what’s happened between you two has been casual at all. You and Wanda had not casually fucked, casually cuddled, or casually made out. In every interaction with Wanda, there was always something deeper simmering just below the surface. There was an understanding of each other’s lives and struggles, tenderness, only found in a familiarity by association, and a deep love for each other, not even in the romantic sense, though you guess a hint of that existed as well, but in a sense of gratitude. Your shared compassion for the twins, and the undoubted affect you’d each had on them brought you two together in an indescribable way. Though you hadn’t known it yet, you and Wanda’s souls had been intertwined by destiny, forever attached by the two who brought you together in the first place.

Therefore, to treat this connection between you two as so much less than it deserves makes you not just just angry or sad but bitter. Nothing about it is fair. You deserve more, sure, but it’s Wanda that deserves everything good. After all that she’s been through, she’s maintained a heart of gold, and your heart aches to know the pain she’s being put through yet again.

But you can’t hide forever, and Wanda finally admits what you can’t. Won’t.

“I think,” Wanda says, hesitating, “that we have to accept that this is as good as it gets.”

It stings, Wanda’s confession, the truth smacking you square in the face. Housed within these walls is a beautiful utopia that you and Wanda have escaped to. It’s been sweet, and raw, and vulnerable, and now it’s all crumbling down. In no world would you and Wanda ever have been able to be together in the way you both wanted. There were the boys to think of, and your future, and the life Wanda had created for herself. Neither of you wanted to risk the happiness of the other for a potential shared happiness.

“I’m afraid that if we tried to continue what we have going now, everything would fall apart, and I’d come to resent you. And I don’t want that, Detka. For me, or you, or Billy and Tommy,” Wanda adds softly, “So let’s just enjoy this while we have it, and make the most of our time left.”

Tears sting your eyes and so much pressure has built in your throat that you can’t speak. You only nod at Wanda and her gaze, somehow, softens even more.

“Baby,” she whispers hoarsely. In seconds she’s pulled you into her arms, wrapping you so tightly in her warm embrace that you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. You nuzzle your face into her neck and try to take deep breaths, hoping that her scent will calm the raging storm in your head. She rocks the two of you back and forth slowly, and you can’t tell if it’s more for her or for you.

“Wanda,” you call out, and your voice cracks pitifully.

“Shhh, don’t” the redhead answers, her voice similarly thick with emotion.

You bury your hands in her shirt and grip it tightly, trying to hold on to something when everything else around you is slipping away. Despite your best efforts, you can’t stop the sob that racks your body.

Wanda doesn’t say anything, she just presses a tender kiss to your head. And when you feel a few teardrops fall onto your hair, you don’t mention it.

“I know it’d be hard, but what do you think about pretending, for just a little longer? I mean, we’ve been doing it this long, so what’s one more day?” she murmurs into your hair.

You pull away a little, craning your neck up towards Wanda with wide, tear-brimmed eyes, “Yeah, yes. Please. I’d really like that.”

She smiles fondly at you, “Good. Now let’s wipe away these tears.”

She ever so gently untangles an arm from around you and thumbs away the residual wetness on your cheeks, “There we go, all better.”

Her hand traces down your cheek and cups your jaw. She pulls you in and places a tender kiss to your lips. It’s sweet and tastes a little of the salty tears you’d both just shed. Instead of the hot spark that usually shoots through your body when you kiss Wanda, an overall warmth spreads through your body from your head all the way down to your toes. It makes your stomach ache, not with sadness but rather an all consuming happiness. You’re sure that any moment you’ll burst into a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

*****

The last day and a half of your spring break trip is bittersweet. Though you try to stay present, any time Wanda is around you can’t help but think about how each interaction with her may be your last- your last kiss, your last secret glance, or your last inside joke. To know that the end of something is coming before it ever actually happens is maddening, and you swear that you can hear a clock slowly ticking down to zero as each minute passes. Around the boys especially you don a mask of joviality even though internally you’re floundering. As you go about your day there’s a perpetual ache in your chest and a lump that never seems to leave your throat.

Maybe it’s because you’re desperate to slow down, or maybe it’s because you’re so caught up in your head that it passes quickly, but before you know it, time has slipped through your fingers and it’s already Friday evening. It’s late, and the boys are off in their room packing their bags. Desperate to hold on to the last little bit of your trip left, you decide to leave the packing for tomorrow morning and instead lay on the couch listlessly scrolling through channels on tv. You can’t help wondering where Wanda has wandered off to, but you know that if you go looking for her, you’ll only end up in a puddle of tears.

At some point in your scrolling you end up on an old sitcom- The Dick Van Dyke Show. You’ve never really watched it before, but something about it instantly catches your attention. The simplicity and domesticity of it all soothes you and your brain finally begins to quiet down.

“Did you know that was my favorite show as a kid?”

You look up at Wanda in her long gray tee shirt and leggings, hair pulled back into a low pony, “Really?”

She joins you, sitting on the arm of the couch, “Mhmm. When things would get bad back home in Sokovia, my mom and dad would always put on old sitcom tapes to distract my brother and I. I liked all the ones they showed me, but The Dick Van Dyke Show was always my favorite. Still is.”

A warm smile graces Wanda’s pretty features as she reminisces to you about her childhood and your heart feels so full that she’s chosen to share parts of herself with you.

“I’ve actually never seen it,” you say, “but I just came across it now, and I instantly felt…”

“Calmer?”

“Mhmm.”

You both silently watch the show for a few minutes, and though you’re tempted, you don’t once glance at Wanda. It’s a true demonstration of your willpower because Wanda is so, so tempting. You desperately wish to pull her closer, to hold her, touch her, and kiss her. But if you let yourself give in, you’re not sure you’ll be able to stop. Being around Wanda is addicting and you long to taste her over and over again, to get drunk on her, even if you’re bound to waste away after.

You’re so lost in your own head that you don’t notice Wanda slowly slipping off the arm of the couch onto the seat next to you. It’s only when she basically crawls into your lap that you look away from the tv, startled. She’s on her knees, legs tucked beneath her, and she rests her hands on your thighs. Her face is so incredibly close to yours that with even the slightest movement, your lips would touch.

Her green eyes search yours intently, “Detka, I was thinking…”

She pauses, and you can’t help but quickly peck her lips to encourage her to keep talking. The embarrassed smile that forms on her face also makes you scream internally.

“I’d really like to take you out on a date, baby. Just one. Before everything… ends.”

You squeal quietly and jump onto her, knocking her backwards onto the couch. You pepper kisses all over her face and she grabs your hips, giggling quietly.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Oh my god Wanda, duh!”

And then more quietly and seriously you say, “I’d really, really like that.”

A hand moves from your waist to the back of your head and she guides you to her lips, kissing you sweetly. You suck gently on her bottom lip and try to ingrain into your mind the pretty little sighs she releases. When you pull away, you watch as her long eyelashes flutter open and admire the soft look in her green eyes.

She squeezes your side playfully, “let’s go Detka, we have a date to go on.”

You sit back on your heels to give Wanda room to sit up, “where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise. Now go get your shoes.”

You obey her immediately, plopping down onto the hardwood and slipping on your tennis shoes. When you’re ready to go, she grabs her keys off the kitchen table and quietly ushers you out to her small black sedan. You’ve yet to ride in Wanda’s car, the boys usually driving, and it’s nice. With black leather seats and wood trimming, you feel like you’re living in luxury. The car, somehow, smells like her too, and you feel blissfully pampered and mindless strapped into the passenger seat of her car.

She starts the car and rolls down the windows. You pull out of the driveway and speed off down the coastal highway, the radio softly playing in the background. The air is warm, but the wind is cool on your skin and you can smell the salt in the air. Your hair whips around wildly in the breeze, and you know that it’ll look a mess the rest of the night, but you can’t find it in you to care. Though you still have no idea where Wanda is taking you, by the direction you’re going you can at least guess that it’ll be somewhere in town.

While you’d be happy to go anywhere with Wanda, you’re extra thrilled when she pulls up to the local ice cream shop. Your sweet tooth aches with excitement and you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt. You go to open your door but Wanda reaches out to stop you, “Wait! I wanna get it for you.”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you’re so awestruck by how sweet and wonderful she is. She hops out of the car and comes around to your side, opening the door for you. When you climb out you give her a peck on the cheek, “what a lady you are, Wanda. I guess chivalry isn’t dead.”

The redhead wraps her arm around your waist and tucks you into her side. It’s the most public you two have ever been and the thrill secretly excites you.

She presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, “You deserve only the best, Detka. I hope you always know that.”

She’s being too sweet to you, and it’s making you all shy, so you tuck your head further into her side to hide your face. She chuckles lightly and squeezes your waist, guiding you two over to the counter to order.

Wanda orders two scoops of strawberry ice cream in a cup and you do the same, though with chocolate ice cream. All of the seating at the shop is outdoors, so you two find a table off to the side in a secluded corner. You cuddle up on one bench, legs tangled together and shoulders touching. The treat is sweet on your tongue and you moan softly at the taste.

“Good?” Wanda asks in between bites of her own ice cream.

You nod, “Very. Yours?”

She scoops a bit of the ice cream onto her spoon and lifts it towards you, “try?”

You eagerly accept her invitation and wrap your lips around the spoon. It’s tangier than your chocolate, but still good. You swirl it around your tongue, savoring the flavor as Wanda watches you with curious eyes.

“Mhmm, I like that too. Still prefer mine though,” you say with a small smile.

“Well good, because you’re not getting any more of mine anyways,” the redhead answers with a wink.

You roll your eyes teasingly and happily take another bite of your own ice cream.

“Oh, wait? Do you want to try mine?”

Before you can offer Wanda a spoonful of the chocolate, she reaches out and swipes her thumb across your lips. When she pulls away there’s a little chocolate on her skin and she slowly sucks it off, “Mhmm, tastes good, baby.”

This alone causes your brain to turn to mush and so you just stare at her, lips slightly parted and cheeks flushed.

Wanda doesn’t attempt to hide her smirk at your dumbfounded expression, “love when you get all dazed and pretty like this, Detka.”

Your gaze drops to your ice cream and you mumble about how she’s a tease.

She lifts your chin so that you look at her again, “You know you love it.”

“Not when we’re in public!”

Wanda hesitates for a moment, the wheels in her brain turning, before she asks, “wanna go make strawberry-chocolate ice cream in the car?”

*****

You're outside the door to the house and you and Wanda are giggling like schoolgirls as she fumbles with the keys.

“Shhh, Wanda, be careful. We don’t want to get caught!”

“Sorry, I just can’t get my hands to work,” she answers, giggling again.

You grab her hands and still them, looking at her gently, “here, let me do it.”

You take the keys from her and easily insert it into the lock. It clicks open softly and you motion for Wanda to go inside first, you following close behind her. Wanda stands by the door slipping off her shoes and grabs your shoulder as she nearly falls over. You grab her waist, steadying her, “careful, love.”

She smiles at you sheepishly while she casts her other shoe aside and you take a moment to admire her windblown cheeks and messy hair. You brush a strand behind her ear and her eyes flutter close at your touch.

“What the hell are you two doing?”

You and Wanda freeze, and a rock settles in your stomach. When you turn around, there stands Billy and Tommy in the living room, mixed expressions of confusion, anger, disbelief and betrayal written all over their faces.

“Guys, it’s-” you begin, your voice shaking.

“Not what it looks like?” Billy scoffs, “because it looks like you can’t keep your hands off my mom.”

“Billy, wait,”

“Tell us what the fuck is going on right now,” Tommy interrupts.

You barely spare Wanda a glance as you make your way into the living room. She hesitantly follows behind you.

“Uhm me and Wan- your mom- we’ve been…”

What are you supposed to call this thing you and Wanda have been doing?

“Seeing each other,” she finishes.

Billy eyes you two’s disheveled appearances with disgust, “seems more like you’ve been fucking each other!”

“Billy!” Wanda says sharply.

“What, Mom? I’m gonna call it as I see it, since you two don’t seem inclined to tell the truth.”

You can already feel your lip beginning to quiver but you ignore it, “That’s not fair. Please, just listen for a second.”

“Not fair?!” Tommy protests, “What I think is unfair is that my mom and best friend have been lying to my face so that they can sneak around and fuck. I mean, god. That’s disgusting. Mom- she’s our best friend and you,” he points his finger aggressively towards you, “going after our mom? That’s really fucking shitty.”

A tear unwillingly escapes your eye, “But it wasn’t- it’s not like that. I didn’t intend for it to happen. It just did.”

“So you just fell into each other’s beds?” Billy asks, sarcasm thick in his voice.

“That’s not what she means, Billy,” Wanda answers solemnly.

“What she means is that it all just happened so suddenly, so organically. We were just drawn to each other, and that’s not in our control.”

“But your actions are. You could’ve resisted. Instead, you were selfish.”

You’re entirely sympathetic to the twins’ pain and anger. This comment, however, riles you from your sorrowful stupor.

“Selfish? You’re calling us selfish? You don’t even know what you’re talking about, Billy! Wanda and I have done nothing but think about you both the entire time. You want to know what we did yesterday? We decided to completely end things after this trip because we wanted to protect you two from our dumb decisions. Wanda and I agreed that even though we both have feelings for each other, your lives and feelings are far more important. This is one of the first really good things that’s happened to both of us in a really long time, and we gave it up for you. So you can sit here and call us stupid, or liars, or traitors, but don’t sit here and call us selfish.”

After your outburst, the room goes completely and utterly silent. Your panting hard and your hands are shaking as you watch so many emotions play out on your best friends’ faces. You glance at Wanda and the sight before you breaks your heart. At this moment, she looks so totally and utterly miserable. Silent tears are streaming down her face and her eyes dart anxiously between her two boys. Guilt pools in your stomach and you can’t help but feel that everything is your fault. Had you never been a part of their lives, nothing would be ruined and Wanda, Billy, and Tommy could’ve been a perfect, happy little family.

You sigh heavily and look at the three people you care about most, “Look, I’m sorry. I-”

“Just, stop talking,” Tommy says, interrupting you again, though this time his voice is a little less harsh.

“You, you said that you have feelings for my mom?”

“Yeah, yeah” you answer, vigorously nodding, “I care about her so much.”

Billy looks at Wanda hesitantly, “And you feel the same way?”

Although she’d just confessed her feelings yesterday, a small part of you fears that she’s changed her mind, or maybe even lied. You chew on your lip anxiously, awaiting her response with bated breath.

Instead of answering Billy and Tommy directly, she turns and looks straight at you, “Yes. I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life.”

You know your eyes are shining thick with tears and you give her a great big wobbly smile.

Billy sighs, rubbing his face roughly, “And you make each other happy?”

Simultaneously you and Wanda answer yes.

“Then who are we to get in your way?” Tommy replies, shaking his head.

You gasp quietly and turn towards the twins, hope bubbling up in your chest. They still don’t look totally okay, but the small, tired smiles on each of their faces tells you that they will be in time.

Wanda makes the first move, walking towards them both and cupping each of their faces, “You really mean it moya lubov? Because I stand by what I said, the happiness of you two will always be the most important thing to me.”

Any residual tension in the faces of your two friends fade under their mother’s touch.

“Yeah, mom. We mean it. We just want you to be happy.”

Tommy looks at you then and raises his eyebrows sternly, “And I swear to god, if you hurt her.”

You let out a watery chuckle, “I won’t. I promise.”

“And you,” Billy says, looking to his mom, “if you hurt her?”

Wanda turns and looks at you softly, “I could never.”

Then at the same time Billy and Tommy say, “okay.”

*****

When everything has settled, you and Wanda find yourselves alone yet again. Though there’s still so much new ground to navigate between you, Wanda, and the boys, you can’t ignore the unbridled happiness overwhelming your senses. You and Wanda look at each other with the biggest, goofiest smiles on your faces and you jump into her arms.

Reminded once again how strong she is, Wanda catches you easily and you wrap your legs around her waist. She presses a heated kiss to your lips and you encourage her, arms circling her neck. Somehow while still kissing you, she makes her way down the hall to her room. When she steps inside she kicks the door closed and carries you to the bed. Wanda throws you down on your back gently and then climbs on top of you. She kisses you a few times on the lips, and then the neck, before trailing her hands lower to the hem of your shirt. She makes eye contact with you, seemingly asking if she can take it off, and you nod aggressively. She chuckles lowly and grabs your shirt. You stick your arms out as she pulls it over your head and tosses it somewhere across the room. You shiver, and you’re not sure if it’s from the cold air, Wanda’s gaze, or her burning touch across your stomach- probably all three.

“So beautiful, baby,” she mumbles, placing kisses at your collarbone and then slowly trailing down to the valley of your breasts.

You moan at her featherlight touches, but you still need more. Wanda seems to read your mind as she slides her hands underneath you and unclips your bra. Your nipples are hard from arousal and the cold air and Wanda moans at the sight. She surges forward and takes your left nipple into her mouth, sucking softly at the bud and letting her tongue roll casually over it. Her hand stimulates your other tit, groping and pinching it lightly. She alternates, so that both get their fair share. When she pulls away she plants a kiss on your panting lips before moving downward to the lower half of your body. She pushes your knees up, so that your feet lay flat on the bed, and your legs spread for her. You look down at her, her eyes full of lust and cleavage on display as she bends towards your pussy, and you moan. She places kisses and bites across your calves and then thighs before tugging off your shorts and then grabbing your underwear, pulling it tantalizingly slow down your legs.

All of it’s painfully hot, and you're desperate to tell Wanda to move faster- but you know better than to rush her.

Wanda gasps as she throws your panties aside and eyes your pink, glistening folds, “such a pretty pussy, and all for me.”

You hum, “yes, only you Wanda.”

“Good,” she answers, patting your thigh. She moves back up your body and kisses you, though one hand travels down between your thighs. Lightly, she places pressure on your clit and rubs slow, soft circles. The only way to describe the sensation is white, hot pleasure and you cry out- luckily into her mouth. As her mouth migrates down your body, so do her fingers. They dip into your outer folds and tease your hole with your gathered wetness. As she sucks on your nipple yet again, one finger slides slowly into you and you let out a loud moan, “Oh Wanda, that- that feels so good. Please.”

“You’re doing so good for me Detka”, Wanda praises, “So tight and warm.”

“Th- thank you Wanda. Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you repeat as she thrusts her finger in and out of you slowly.

Wanda then inserts a second finger, stretching you wider. It’s a little painful, but it feels so good you don’t mind.

As you writhe in pleasure, you watch Wanda. Her long, red hair falls over her shoulder as she bends down to suck a hickey onto your neck. Her face is flushed and her green eyes are lust-blown. As Wanda’s hand continues to pound into you, you reach out and pull Wanda away from your neck.

“Wanna touch you Wanda,” you say breathlessly. You pull her in and kiss her lips roughly again. One hand stays in her hair and tugs at her red locks while the other wanders down to grope her tits. She moans into your mouth and her fingers falter for a second at your touch. As you continue your ministrations on her clothed breasts, Wanda adds a third finger and you nearly see stars. Desperate for her own release, she begins to hump your thigh as she fingers you. Observing her pleasure nearly sends you over the edge.

You beg Wanda to stop for just a moment so that you can slip off her shirt. You unclasp her bra and grunt at the sight of her naked tits. Wanda continues to pound into you and your legs tighten around her hand. As she humps your leg, you watch her beautiful tits bounce and the way her head is thrown back in a fit of pleasure. The image of Wanda before you sends you over the edge, finally, and your stomach muscles clench. You cry out loudly and moan Wanda’s name over and over as you finally come. Your body shakes with pleasure and you really do see stars this time. When you come down from your high, you are panting heavily. Wanda is still chasing her own, and you can tell she’s getting close. You grip her hips and stop her, “Don’t want you to cum on my thigh, Wanda.”

Suddenly, you flip her onto her back and straddle her.

“Drawer, Detka, look in my drawer,” Wanda breathes out desperately. You reach over her and open the top drawer on the left. Inside is a pink strap-on.

“You want me to use this, Wanda?” You ask seriously.

“Please, please fuck me baby,” she answers huskily.

You stand from the bed, Wanda groaning at the loss of your touch, as you step into the harness and tighten it against your skin so that it bumps your clit a little. When you crawl back onto the bed, you grab the hem of Wanda’s pants and yank them down. Then, you grab her lacy black underwear and pull that down too, revealing her pussy to you. You moan loudly and instantly surge forward, licking a line up her slit. She tastes so sweet, and you want to eat her out so badly, but you decide to save that for later.

“Please, Detka. Don’t tease me,” Wanda orders.

You nod and do as she says. You line the tip of the dildo up to her entrance and tease her folds. She moans softly and grabs your waist. Then, slowly, you slide inside her. She’s wet enough that there’s not much resistance, and when your hips meet hers you pause.

Wanda sighs out, “So big. Feels so good, baby. So full of you.”

“Anything for you Wanda. Your pretty pussy deserves everything,” you whisper in her ear as you thrust your hips for the first time. The squeal she lets out sends you into a frenzy, and quickly you are pounding into Wanda at a rapid pace. She’s only letting out a series of moans, whines and squeals and it’s so incredibly hot. You suck on one of her nipples and play with the other till she is writhing underneath you. When you get her close, you move down a little and throw her legs over your shoulders, allowing you to lift her hips off the bed and drill into her at a deeper angle. You know you’ve found her g-spot by the way she lets out long, loud moans, and you muffle her mouth with your lips so that Billy and Tommy don’t hear. With one final thrust, Wanda’s eyes roll into the back of her head and her back arches into you, tits touching. The moans of your name light a fire in your stomach, and the added stimulation of the strap on your throbbing clit sends you over the edge a second time. You both cum together before slowly coming down from your high. You’re left panting as you collapse on top of her, the dildo still inside.

As you start to recover, Wanda slowly starts stroking your sweaty hair away from your face. You smile against her chest and place a soft kiss there.

“That was really good, Wanda. Thank you.”

Wanda only lifts your chin and smiles at you before she locks your lips in another kiss- this time more sweet and tender.

*****

The time you’d been dreading the entire week- saying goodbye- has finally arrived. While it once left you sick with dread, now it doesn’t seem so bad. The fact that you and Wanda aren’t saying goodbye forever certainly helps. Wanda’s in the kitchen sweeping out the sand and you and the twins are packing up their car with your bags. You were nervous this morning that they’d act weird around you now that you’re with Wanda, but they’ve been fairly normal besides the occasional dark jokes here or there.

When the last of your stuff is loaded into the car, the three of you make your way back into the house.

“Mom? Want us to take your bags out to your car?” Tommy asks, swiping a banana off the counter.

She smiles sweetly at him, “yes, please. Thank you.”

You give Wanda a wink and begin to follow after the boys when she calls out, “wait, Detka. I need your help.”

Billy mockingly gags and you roll your eyes at him before trotting obediently back to Wanda.

“What’d you need help with?” You ask her eagerly.

She peers over your shoulder, making sure the boys aren’t in sight, and then grabs you by the shirt, pulling you in for a kiss.

You can’t help but smile against her lips, and when you pull away you chuckle.

“Was that it?”

She hums contentedly, “though I think I need one more for good measure.”

“I’m here to serve,” you tell her teasingly, kissing her again.

“Nope! No! Okay, that’s enough you two,” Tommy declares as he comes back into the kitchen, “Jesus, I’m gonna throw up.”

You both have the decency to look sheepish and say, “sorry!”

He sighs, feigning annoyance, “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Now come on, we gotta get back to school.”

Billy joins you all in the kitchen, “Yep, we gotta go, so no more public indecency, please.”

You snort a little and slap his arm lightly, “shut up.”

He gives you a pointed look and then goes up to hug Wanda, “Bye Mom. I’ll call you next week, okay?”

She hugs him tightly and kisses him tenderly on the forehead before taking Tommy into her arms, “Goodbye, moya lubov.”

Then she says to both of them, “You let me know when you get back safe. I love you!”

“Love you too,” they both say at the same time, heading towards the door.

Tommy looks at you, “you coming?”

You nod, “Yep, be right out in a second.”

When they’re gone you don’t say anything to Wanda, you just pull her into a tight embrace.

“We’ll see each other soon, okay?” she tells you.

You pull away and admire her pretty features one final time before you have to say goodbye.

“Okay, Wanda. I’ll see you soon.”

She smiles warmly at you and kisses goodbye, but not, you happily note, for forever.

************************************************************************

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