#Let them be happy and hang out in trees
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Guys… imagine 😭 imagine having friends 😭😭😭 friends that 😭 lived near you 😭😭 and wanted to sit outside and smoke weed with you 😭😭😭😭😭
#screaming crying throwing up#Pinterest is like ooo dreaming of the future then I spend too long on Pinterest I turn evil I turn into why isn’t that meeeee#anyways. saw a picture of six girls at a glass top table outside in beautiful bright green grass and trees around them and they were all#happy and I just think about it like the last time I had more than two friends to hang out with a time was like. elementary school or smthng#like. gahhhhhh why is it so easy for ppl to make friends and have friends and keep friends and have them near you like I feel insane all the#time like am I really that much of a fucking outsider why can’t I just let people into my lifeeeeeee
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You know what idea has always ENCHANTED ME?
Ever since I saw it on a sci-fi show?
The Deadly Magical House That Loves You™. See, it's a house that has become something MORE. Gained sentience. And? Instead of acting out some cheap horror movie jump scares? It digs deep to its foundations, thinks long n hard, and decides on what it WANTS.
And it WANTS?
To be a HOME™.
To TAKE CARE OF somebody. Have LIFE in its halls. Meals at its tables. Joy and laughter bouncing across its walls. So? It lays a trap. Lures people in.
Come live in me~
I am a good home.
I am Free! I am "Safe". I will give you whatever your heart desires.
I care not for morality or laws. Boundaries or taboos. Do you desire? Come, come, be HAPPY~! Live in me! Relax here! Forget about the world beyond these walls. Anything I can not give you, I can bring TOO you! This is a Happy Home.
But, of course, such sentience and pushiness terrifies. People run and flee in horror. The house getting more aggressive. Trying to hold tighter. After all! If they would just STAY for a while, they would SEE! It's so LOVELY here! The would LOVE to live inside them!
But... instead?
They are hurt.
Doors smashed open. Windows broken to escape. Furniture thrown. Their avatar, Jeeves, bashed with heavy things. Why... WHY?! They are only trying to HELP! To LOVE them! Be a good HOME! They grow more and more run down. Starved. Wrathful.
It is, of course, their Obsession. To be a home. They are so very hungry.
When? Who should come along?
But the depressed AF Ghost King! He's been... not TECHNICALLY kicked out. But "things are tense" kicked out. He's tired. His college courses are remote. He can't really AFFORD rent. And everything is just...
He's TIRED.
He wants to cry.
Why... why can't he have ONE good thing? ONE sign everything's gonna be alright?
"Free House!"
Well... I mean... that IS a literal sign. Huh. He flies down. The house notices him. Tries to look as enticing as it can. And? Gasp! I... It's WORKING? This one seems INTERESTED? Quick! Flowerbeds! Look at my flowerbeds! Ooooh, lovely floooowers! A.. and there's probably really nice wood flooring! C'mon. C'moooon!
Danny? Sees a free Lair. Not too far from both Gotham AND Metropolis. Good location. Needs a little fixing up. But I mean... you can't beat free, right?
Is he really gonna do this?
......fuck it. Yeah, let's do this. First house time. He's just glad he carries a sharpie on him most of the time. Scribbles "Sold!" Over the sign then calls Jazz. He's... kinda not sure WHAT he's supposed to pack?
Finds out, post move in, whoop. Sentient Lair. Clingy, clingy, highly desperate sentient Lair. Oof. Guess fixing up the place can be therapy for both of us. Jazz helps.
The house heals. He falls into a routine. Schoolwork, hang out in the garden or the observatory, meals FaceTiming friends or watching videos, naps whenever he wants them. It's... it's so peaceful. Quiet and soothing to his agitated and worn down soul. Like a balm.
House gets him whatever he needs. They're kinda awesome like that. Always seems to have room to fit this or that. He doesn't question it. His brain figuring it works on Zone logic.
He probably SHOULD have.
Because? Things have been going missing. At a slow, steady, pace. Food, technology, entertainment. A building that shouldn't BE there, has been spotted in a wealthy county just outside of Superman and Batman's two cities.
No one can get near it.
It's been getting BIGGER.
Growing, like a tumor, room by room. Floor by floor. The gardens creeping like kudzu, to swallow everything in their path. Yet delivery drivers drop things off. Things they don't remember. On trips they don't recall. People are scared.
Amateur detectives have managed to discover some sort of starlit fae that lives there, along with a human boy.
Justice League Dark has been called in. Are currently standing just outside the slowly creeping property line. A garden statue just hissed at them. The trees are trying to throw acorns. A hushed argument has already broken out. How do they contain the house?
@the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @hypewinter @hdgnj @babbling-babull @mutable-manifestation @spidori @lolottes
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A Barbie AU where the Kens decide, in order to get some recognition, to get individual names.
Steve, who’s just a Ken very good with kids, is having an identity crisis after his Barbie, journalist Barbie, broke up with him.
Not even picking a name as unique and special as Steve, so much different than Ken, managed to cheer him up.
Everyone keeps saying he should be happy about the change, and discover who he is outside of Barbie’s orbit, but he can’t see what was so wrong in their relationship. He loved waiting all day for Barbie to look at him, even if it was for a brief second.
As if going through an existential crisis wasn't enough, he has to do it under the constant mocking of his archnemesis, Ke- Eddie.
Eddie, with his long curly and annoyingly gorgeous hair, who has a sense of style he would give all of his rollerblades for, and who's always there to notice whenever Steve makes a mistake.
Eddie even has his Barbie still by his side, cheerleader Barbie, and every time Steve sees them together he gets a sick feeling in his stomach, like a tummy ache. Doctor Barbie visited him a couple of times and found nothing wrong with him, he imagines he's a little jealous of Eddie for being with a Barbie.
Steve talks about this with Polyglot Barbie, his best friend, annoying her to death.
"Why are we talking about Ken, again?" she interrupts Steve's retelling of his last encounter with Eddie.
"It's Eddie" Steve corrects her.
"Right," she nods. She's very supportive of their silly-name-thing (how most Barbies call it), but she still has trouble remembering all the names, "why are we still talking about him?"
They're hanging out at the park, sitting under a tree, Barbie's leg on top of his, and they're holding hands. It's nice. Steve is happy to have a best friend like Barbie.
Steve looks up, meeting Eddie's gaze. He's sitting at one of the picnic tables not far away from them, doing nothing besides glaring at Steve.
Barbie squeezes his hand to get his attention back, and Steve looks away.
"Because he keeps tormenting me! he's even glaring at me right now, I'm gonna get stress wrinkles!" Steve finally replies, in a distressed tone.
"You're being dramatic," she says, matter-of-factly, "Eddie isn't so bad with you. You know, he kinda treats you like his Barbie."
If Steve had a beating heart, it probably would've stopped right at this second.
"What?"
"You know, he's always looking for you, he is always giddy whenever you give him a crumble of attention. He hangs out where you hang out... why do you think he's sitting all alone at a picnic table, just staring at you?"
"Maybe he's waiting for his girlfriend" he suggests.
"Are you talking about Cheerleader Barbie?" she giggles, "she's not his girlfriend, trust me."
"But he picks on me! all the time! Like this morning, I tripped and he made a comment about my legs!" He gestures at his legs with his free hand.
Barbie tilts her head to the side "you mean this morning at the beach when he held you in his arms for ten minutes to prevent you from falling and Barbie had to tell him to let you go?"
"… yeah” he manages to say. He hadn’t realized how long Eddie held him in his arms, he was upset about almost falling in front of him, but he also liked the feeling of his arms around him.
Everything feels different now.
Barbie's look softens "How does this make you feel?"
"I don't know" he answers, honestly "I just can't stop thinking about him."
A loud noise at their right startles them off of their conversation. They turn around to see Eddie lying on the floor, a trash can at his feet.
Steve doesn't give himself the time to realize that Eddie has probably heard their entire conversation and has tripped on that trash can because of it, he just rushes to Eddie's side to help him out.
Eddie stammers while Steve pulls him back up, not making much sense.
Steve is used to see Eddie as an intimidating guy, someone to compete with for Barbie’s attention. He never realized how much he liked to have Eddie’s attention instead, nor how he loved to give that attention back in equal amount.
“Nice legs” he tells him, repeating the same words Eddie told him that morning.
Eddie stops his incoherent stream of words when he hears him “what?”
“You heard me” Steve says.
“I did” Eddie admits. He pulls the trash can back up, to have an excuse to not look at Steve when he asks “you can’t stop thinking about me?”
For some reason, that’s the easiest question Steve has ever had to answer to “yes, I can’t.”
Eddie jolts back up startling Steve, the trash can falling out of his hands and hitting the ground once again.
“Cool” he says, using all of his willpower to hide his excitement by keeping a relaxed face, failing miserably.
“I guess” Steve grins. Knowing he has that effect on Eddie is making him the most confident he has ever felt in his life.
“So, since you can’t stop thinking about me…” Eddie repeats, in a tone that Steve would’ve mistaken for a mocking one until few hours ago “…we could hang out on the beach later. I’ll bring my guitar.”
“I’ll bring mine too then” Steve replies immediately.
Eddie panics “We can’t both have a guitar!”
Steve crosses his arms on his chest “who says that?”
Eddie opens and closes his mouth a couple of times then mutters, defeated, “fine.”
“Great!” Steve takes a step forward and gives Eddie a peck on his cheek “I’ll see you later.”
Eddie, who makes a face again trying to hide his excitement, nods and turns away “cool.”
He walks away slowly, towards the park’s exit. Right by the gate, he throws himself into an hedge. Steve can clearly hear him when he screams words along the lines of “FINALLY”, “I HAVE A DATE” and “SUBLIME”.
Steve turns to Robin who has witnessed the whole thing, while Eddie is still screaming random words from the bushes.
“I think I’m in love.”
#I’ve been wanting to write this since I saw the movie#but it never felt right#this is the best I could do lmao#in case it wasn’t clear I’m making fun of Steve for going from basic name to basic name lmao#I love him#I just think they’re neat#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steve and eddie#steve x eddie#platonic stobin#barbie#Barbie au#Steddie au#steddie au Barbie
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wherever you are ☆ hwang hyunjin.
hyunjin x fem!reader. childhood best friends to lovers. slowburn, pining. fluff, angst. suggestive. a hyunjin birthday special.
wc: 12.9k words.
warnings: reader often referred to as "girl," suggestive. mentions of sex.
note: this fic is my baby. it might be one of my favourite things i've ever written so far, please treat it well <3 feedbacks are very much appreciated.
playlist.
Hyunjin promised you that he'll be wherever you are. What do you do when your best friend of years — the only person you've ever loved disappears without saying goodbye? Especially when you've spent your entire life with Hyunjin, you didn't know of life without him.
one.
“Happy Birthday, Hyunjin.”
It was Hyunjin’s 10th birthday.
Despite already singing him a happy birthday song, you muttered the wish once again in the comfort of his tree house. He sat adjacent to you, feet dangling over the platform, the large leaves hovering over the tree house’s roof providing shelter from the blinding sunlight.
He hummed in gratitude, eyes busy watching Kkami running around below the tree house. Afternoons with Hyunjin were often spent like this — hanging out in the tree house as Kkami played around on the grass, its barks mirroring its happiness. For years, you’ve spent enjoying the fact that your afternoons were spent like this — were spent with Hyunjin, in childish innocence.
After letting the silence take over for a while, Hyunjin turned his head towards you, a little surprised once he saw that you were already looking at him. He tried his best to not let his surprise show.
“Why did you want to come up here? I thought you were enjoying the party inside.”
Indeed, you were enjoying the birthday party, a little too much for Hyunjin’s liking. The boys from Hyunjin’s school came to the party, and you seemed to get along with them quickly, despite being the only girl at the party. Hyunjin hates to admit it but he was a little envious. He told himself that he’s jealous because he’s your number one best friend, so you should pay more attention to him. It was true, but only partially — he was jealous because they were all boys. Not that he would ever admit that to himself.
To Hyunjin’s question, you responded by extending your arms to him, revealing a white box in your palm. He took it, quickly recognizing it as a jewellery box. He’s received one of them after purchasing a Mother’s Day gift. Quietly, he examined the engravings on the box, and the pristine look of it. Honestly, he was impressed by how clean you have kept it. You had always been one to dirty your white clothes.
“What’s this?” he asked, answering his own enquiry by opening the box with you sitting close, peering over his hands.
Hyunjin’s heart skipped a beat.
In the box laid two necklaces, black strings with Lego pieces as pendants. They were matching necklaces. The Lego piece of each necklace formed a heart when joined together. His brown eyes widened, in disbelief of the gift. He’s never received something like this — something matching. It made his heart flutter — no, it beat faster than it does while playing soccer. Hyunjin turned to look into your eyes, and it was as though he had found a new revelation in yours. The more Hyunjin looked at you, the more the realization seeped in, until it overtook his senses.
You’re a girl.
You weren’t just the kid from next door, you weren’t like his other friends — you’re a girl. You like Disney princesses, you have a pretty face, you like Sanrio characters, you have soft hair, you like painting nails, you have pink lips from your strawberry lip balm, you like matching necklaces — you’re a girl.
A very pretty girl.
It felt like a revelation after having been friends with you for over five years. As though the necklaces in the box held some sort of power to snap one from a trance. Hyunjin realized that you were different from his other friends. For one, you have softer hands. Moreover, you’re someone he can develop a crush on — or whatever girls call it.
His finger traced the pendants, feeling the bumps of the Lego pieces. He smiled, one that reached his ears. You felt yourself releasing the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.
“I love it soooo much. Thank you.”
Unlike other boys (the stinky ones from your school), Hyunjin didn’t cringe at the gift. The way he gently examined the necklaces mirrored the appreciation he felt towards it. If he was any other boy, he would’ve probably laughed at the gift, then poked fun at you.
Then again, Hyunjin had never been like the other boys you knew.
He was different in the way he spoke softly to you (softer than he would to his guy friends), and how he would let you change the TV channel from Snoopy to Totally Spies. He had always been different, that being the reason why you were so fond of him.
“You like it? Really?” you queried, staring at him. You watched his expressions carefully, trying to sense for any lies.
“Really! Which one do you want?” he answered, absolutely no hesitations. He wasn’t lying.
Hyunjin panned the box towards you, prompting you to pick which necklace. One was in black, the other in white. As always, he gave in to you, letting you be the one to choose.
“White!”
The sun was setting when you both swayed your legs, wearing the matching necklaces. Hyunjin was genuinely happy, one of his hands wouldn’t stop fiddling with the pendant. The party was still lively inside, but he much preferred sitting with you — his one and only best friend.
“Yn,” your best friend’s voice broke you from your trance. “What do you want for your birthday?”
“Hm,” you pondered, tapping your pointer on your chin in a cartoonish manner.
He was looking at you, an expectant expression on his face. You pulled up your legs to cross them as you thought.
“I think…” your voice trailed, “I want to be the best ballerina in the world and move to Paris!”
Hyunjin rolled his eyes, “at least make it something I could give you!”
You pouted, “but that’s what I want!”
The boy sighed, laying back on the rough surface of the tree house. He looked up, observing the little glow-in-the-dark stars plastered onto the tree house ceiling. He recalled putting them up with you. You were impossible to deal with. Hyunjin desperately wanted to know your wish — something he could give you for your birthday. Your gift to him made him really happy, and he wished to return the favour.
“Then, I’ll be the best artist in the world and move to Paris with you.”
It was such an innocent, child-like answer — straight from a 10-year-old’s desire. Untainted by the boulevard of broken dreams. As if anything in the world was possible, and that the universe was kind all the time.
“Really?” you chirped, looking at him with disbelief in your eyes. You giggled in glee and plopped yourself down beside him. “Really really? You really really really mean it, Hyunnie?”
At that point, Hyunjin could only giggle and nod. “Of course! I’ll be wherever you are.”
The manner in which you hugged him expressed your excitement. You were practically suffocating him, wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing tightly.
“You’re my best friend in the world!”
Hyunjin felt like he could die.
His heart continued beating rapidly, worsened by you nuzzling your face into his neck. Hyunjin knew, it was just you being your usual self. However, the revelation he experienced minutes earlier made the tips of his ears turn red.
“Hyunjin! Come down here! Your friends are about to leave!”
At that very moment, Hyunjin silently thanked his mother for saving him.
two.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
A question which had you staring into space — the walls of Hyunjin’s bedroom for a while. The blue walls were plastered with posters of numerous musicians and self-made artworks.
It wasn’t that you didn’t know the answer. You knew. Ballet had been a part of your life since small, it was your everything. It wasn’t that you were unsure if you wanted to do ballet, you were unsure if you should be doing ballet.
Uneasiness settled into your stomach, but you tried to keep them in. You were in no mood to be going through an identity crisis.
“Ballerina,” you stated, matter-of-factly. Your eyebrows furrowed when Hyunjin chuckled.
“What?”
“Your answer hasn’t changed,” Hyunjin laughed, but not in a humorous way. Rather, it was in an expectant way, as if he knew that’s what you would answer.
You straightened your posture and tilted your head. Hyunjin laughed even more, making a comment that you looked like Kkami.
“Have you asked me the same thing before?”
He nodded, “sort of? Kind of. On my tenth birthday, I asked you what you wanted.” Hyunjin cleared his throat and took a deep breath, mimicking the voice of younger you. “I want to be the best ballerina in the world and move to Paris!”
“Oh, shut up!” you rumbled, hitting him with his bolster repeatedly. “That’s not how I sounded like!”
“It so was!”
Truthfully, you couldn’t quite recall the memory. You didn’t doubt Hyunjin though, it did sound like something you would’ve said.
You queried again.
“What did you answer then?”
Hyunjin turned silent. He didn’t like where this was going, not fond of recalling the cheesy answer he gave you. As he looked away from your gaze, you pressed him further. Even threatened to dog-nap Kkami.
“Fine. I said… I said I’ll be the best artist in the world and move to Paris too…” his voice trailed, getting smaller, “said I’ll be wherever you are…”
Your eyebrows raised, scooting closer to him in mock confusion. “Sorry? Didn’t hear you.”
A pillow hit your head, and you burst out into peals of laughter. It was hilarious, the cheesy answer little Hyunjin gave, but what amused you even more was his face turning red.
Touches of laughter echoed in the room, and Hyunjin found himself praying the moment would last forever. The conversation quickly escalated into a pillow fight, ending up in Hyunjin leaning against his headboard, exhausted, and you laying on his lap.
You looked up at him, eyes fleeting to the stubble growing. Mindlessly, you grazed his cheek, feeling his sideburns prickling against your thumb.
He was growing, you realized it then. You were growing too. Neither of you were little kids anymore.
A fact you didn't want to accept.
It’s the softness of your fingers that froze Hyunjin in his tracks. He held his breath, as if you would stop if he moved. He didn’t want you to, wanted to let your fingers linger, to etch the sensation into his memories.
In a soft tone, you spoke, “Did you really mean it?”
“Hm?”
“Would you be wherever I am?”
Hyunjin’s breath hitched, a lump growing in his throat. If he spoke, he feared his feelings would become too real. For as long as he could, he wanted to bury his feelings deep down. Life was already risky as it is, he didn’t want to take any more.
It’s platonic. It’s platonic. It’s platonic.
They repeated in his brain like a mantra. Maybe if he chanted it, it’ll manifest to life.
“Yeah,” Hyunjin swallowed, “of course I will. You’re my best friend.”
Like magic, your worries about the future disappeared into thin air. Would it be foolish to trust Hyunjin so much, that you believed life would be fine as long as he was with you?
Dear universe, be good to me.
You smiled, one that Hyunjin swore could light up the entire sky. The stars must envy you, for the way you could brighten up darkness effortlessly.
“I’ll be wherever you are too.”
Yeah, Hyunjin would love it if time froze.
three.
Don’t be a coward.
Four words Hyunjin told his reflection as he got ready. He was dressed in a basic tee and a pair of jeans, hair slicked back like the one time you told him it looked good. He spritzed his cologne behind his ears, on his neck, and on his wrist before repeating the four words again. This time, he whispered it, letting it soak into his brain, in hopes his heart would have courage.
It’s been too long. The feelings he harboured for you piled overtime, the crush he once thought was temporary transforming into fondness. It was becoming too much for Hyunjin’s heart to bear, he needed to let it out. If he didn’t, he felt like his heart could burst. And if it did, it would be confetti-shaped memories of you.
Chatters echoed outside your ballet academy, Hyunjin watched through the lowered window for your face among the sea of people. He had a plan in mind — he’d open the door for you, put the seatbelt on for you, and tell you about his feelings. In front of your academy wasn’t the most ideal place for a confession, he knew, but God — he couldn’t bear sitting in silence with you as a storm raged in his head. He couldn’t do it. He wanted to say it as soon as he could.
Hyunjin’s eyes were still busy looking for you when suddenly, your face came in his peripheral vision, along with another face. The other person was lean, jet black hair with bangs and puppy-like eyes. The boy opened the door for you before Hyunjin could.
Okay, step number one failed.
“Hey, Hyunnie!” your voice chirped, getting into the car. Your hand moved to buckle your seatbelt before Hyunjin could. He was too busy analysing the stranger in front of the door.
“Hey,” Hyunjin replied nonchalantly, looking at the boy from head to toe. “And this is…?”
“Seungmin. And you?” the boy said, tilting his head. To Hyunjin, he was being challenged. Seungmin’s tone was more daring than he liked, so he felt an urge to one-up the guy.
“Hyunjin. Been friends with Yn since were in diapers.” he replied, the extra detail a pathetic attempt at one-upping Seungmin.
Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows, nodding as he shut your door, “Uh. Cool? Bye, Yn. And the friend since diapers.”
Oh, Hyunjin really didn’t like him.
“Wait, Seungminnie!” you called out just as Seungmin was walking away. He looked back at the car, raising an eyebrow. You turned to Hyunjin with puppy eyes. “Can you give Seungminnie a ride? He takes the bus and I think the next one’s in an hour.”
Hyunjin clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering from your pleading eyes to Seungmin’s figure outside the car. If it was all up to him, he would probably run the guy over. But God knew how much he cherished you, how he would rather cut his tongue than tell you “no,” so he agreed.
“Mm. Sure,” he replied, swallowing back a scoff.
Your eyes brightened, “Seungminnie! Come, we’ll give you a ride!” you yelled, tempting Hyunjin to mock the nickname you’d given him.
It was going to be a car ride straight out of hell.
Hyunjin’s knuckles were white against the steering as he pulled up to Seungmin’s residence complex. The building standing in front of him definitely belonged in a gated community, ritzy and luxurious. Somehow, that pissed Hyunjin off even more. He glanced at the unwanted guest sitting in the back seat through the rear-view mirror.
“Want me to drive you to the lobby, or what?”
Seungmin looked back into the mirror, peering at the reflection through his bangs. “Nah. They don’t let random cars in. Here’s just fine,” he mumbled, unbuckling the seatbelt. “Thanks, dude. Appreciate it.”
The car door closed behind Seungmin, leaving the two of you in the car. Hyunjin sighed, feeling the nerves creeping up him again. Now that it was only the two of you, it was time for Hyunjin to confess his feelings.
Before he could, you spoke, “Seungmin’s my friend in the academy. He’s really smart,” your eyes didn’t leave the crossroad before you, watching as Seungmin walked.
Hyunjin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He tapped on your thigh, trying to gain your attention. It worked as you looked at him, batting your eyelashes. “Hm?”
He licked his lower lip, mustering all the courage in him. It was now, or never. “Look, I have something to tell you.”
“Yeah?”
You shuffled in your seat, tilting your body slightly towards his way. Now that you had your full attention on him, Hyunjin felt even more nervous. He scratched the skin around his thumb, tongue-tied as his brain tried to form coherent words. He’s never done this before, always made fun of his friends for struggling to express their feelings but now that he was in the same place, he wished he could take back all the insults. The brown eyes looking deeply (and anxiously) into yours were profusely blinking, as though he was at the brink of tears. You grew worried.
“Hyunjin, what’s up?”
He scratched at the back of his neck. Why did his tongue feel so numb? Why did his brain feel empty yet so full at the same time? His heartbeats were so fast, he couldn’t quite catch up. Hyunjin was on a rollercoaster — you were waiting at the end of the ride.
Finally, he managed to muster words. “Look, I’ve pondered over —”
Two knocks on the window at the back. They’re followed by the door opening, an exasperated Seungmin popping his head into the car. Immediately, you both looked back, utterly bewildered.
“Sorry. I left my bag. Thank God you’re still here,” Seungmin said, grabbing his messenger bag and slipping it onto his shoulder. “Thanks and sorry!”
The door closed, thus silence blanketed the atmosphere once again. This time, with unresolved tension. You looked back at Hyunjin, tilting your head in curiosity.
“You were saying?”
Dazed, the raven looked at you. His face was a mixture of exasperation and confusion. His head? There was a storm raging, along with curse words aimed at Seungmin.
“Um…” He licked his lower lip, racking his brain to find back the words he wanted to say. They were all lost. He was already at the end of the rollercoaster, the bumps along the way forgotten, and the thrill subsided. All that’s left was the remnants of anxiety. He couldn’t do it anymore, not when he’s forgotten the things he wanted to say, and the moment disturbed by your dear friend Seungmin.
So, he put the gear on to drive. He shook his head and made up a white lie.
“I think I want to try a new ice cream place today.”
four.
The taste of cookies and cream could not beat the bitterness on Hyunjin’s tongue.
It may be because the bitterness has seeped into his head.
“I’m going to your room,” you announced, swinging the front door of his house open. “Hi, Mrs Hwang!” you cheered, running up the stairs after.
“I’m going to talk to my mom a little bit,” Hyunjin said, hanging both your coats on the coat hanger.
Nothing could’ve prepared Hyunjin for what was to happen next.
Both his parents were crowding the kitchen countertop when he walked in, skimming through a piece of paper. They were beaming, eyes crinkled as they smiled. A reminder that Hyunjin resembled both his parents. He blinked in confusion as to why his parents looked so happy. He didn’t think he'd seen them this happy before.
“What’s going on?” he questioned, peering over their figures to look at the paper.
On the paper were words he’d only seen in his dreams. Never in a million years he would’ve thought it’d manifest to life. His heart skipped a beat as he read the words over, and over.
“You made it, sweetheart,” his mother’s soft voice spoke, confirming his suspicion. “You got accepted. Beaux-Arts de Paris.”
“Eomma,” he mumbled, as if he was pleading. Pleading for this dream to stop. Somebody’s got to wake him up from this nightmare of a day. “There’s no way.”
Hyunjin picked up the letter, inspecting it closer. As though if he looked any closer, the words on the pristine white paper would change. Reject him. Or maybe, the logo of the prestigious school would magically transform into a logo of a school in Seoul. Anything, anything, that would keep him here. In Seoul. With you.
“You did it, sweetheart. Your dreams are coming true,” his mother keenly said, pulling him into a side hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
His dream? It was his dream, and, yours. No, scratch that — it wasn’t truly his dream. It was yours. His dream had always been to be wherever you are.
He didn’t think he would be accepted. When you told him you were rejected from the Paris Ballet School, he told you that he was rejected, too. He didn’t tell you that he was waitlisted, under the impression that he was never getting out of the waitlist. What was he to tell you now?
Hyunjin hid his sadness, wanting to make his parents proud, “Yeah. I did it. I’m so happy, eomma, appa.”
A series of praises left his parents, and he allowed for them to engulf him in a hug.
“Don’t tell Yn, ‘kay?” he muttered, before excusing himself to go upstairs. The acceptance letter was neatly folded, tucked into his pocket.
When he swung his bedroom door open, you were standing in front of his full-length mirror. Clad in only his t-shirt, you inspected yourself.
“Hey, Hwang Hyunjin,” you muttered, turning your body. “Your clothes are bigger than me now. You used to be so small.”
You looked at him, mock dismay in your face. “I was so much taller than you before. You were a dwarf.”
How was he meant to tell you about Paris?
“I was never a dwarf. You were just too busy looking down on me.”
Giggles left both of you. Silently, he observed the way you were examining yourself. You had the mannerisms of a ballerina, each gesture as gracious as your dance. Hyunjin adored the curves of your body, but God knew he loved that of your smile even more.
Later, you were both laying on his bed, you in a starfish position. Hyunjin was at the edge of his bed, trying his best to not fall.
“Ballet was so hard today,” you sighed. You turned your body sideways, burying your face into Hyunjin’s chest. He could smell you in this closeness.
“Are you wearing my deodorant?” he queried, bowing to clasp his nose onto your shoulder. It felt like a kiss to him. “This is literally the smell of my deodorant.”
You shrugged. “Yeah? What about it? You should’ve gotten used to me taking your things by now, Hwang Hyunjin. I’ve been doing this our whole lives.”
Touché. The boy sighed, letting you fill in the silence with your babbles. Wordlessly, he listened to your words, letting it be the white noise to his thoughts.
His head was clearly not there. Unbeknownst to him, you knew of this. He’d been off all day. You’ve picked up on each signal, knowing him like the back of your hand. As much as you wanted to know what was wrong, you knew not to pry. You resorted to comfort instead.
Your fingertips met at the back of his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He was never one for physical touch but sometimes, it helped. You leaned your head into his neck.
Gingerly, you whispered the words you thought he would need.
“You’re always here, around me. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
The exact words he did not need to hear that day.
How was he meant to tell you of his feelings now?
Especially when he was leaving — oceans away.
five.
Hyunjin had always loved soccer.
Whether it be being in the bleachers, or playing in the field. He loved doing both. There was something about the thrill of watching people play, and the adrenaline as he chased around the field.
Sitting in the bleachers, Hyunjin watched as his soccer team played. The sounds of his teammates laughing made the blazing sun a little more bearable. He lowered his cap to prevent the sunlight from getting in his eyes, chuckling when he saw Beomgyu falling face-first onto the grass.
He loved his soccer team. Every time he observed them play, Hyunjin’s heart always got overwhelmed with pride and joy. At that moment, he felt melancholy taking space too — the thought of not being able to play with them anymore hurting him more than he thought it would.
Hyunjin allowed for the melancholy to take space, allowed himself to feel — so much so that he didn’t feel Minho’s presence. Not until the older cleared his throat.
Minho sat beside him, “Why the long face, Hwang Hyunjin?”
“Huh?” startled, he looked up, face softening when he saw Minho. “Oh. Nothing. You’re not playing?”
“Nah,” Minho replied curtly. He silently analyzed the younger’s facial expressions before speaking up again. “For someone who’s going to Paris in two weeks, you sure don’t look too happy.”
Of course, Minho out of all people would notice the change in his mannerisms. Always the analyzing one, quick to notice changes in demeanour. There was no point in lying, not with Minho — so he let out the sigh he didn’t realize he was holding.
“It’s bittersweet, you know?” he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers.
“It’s Yn, isn’t it?”
“Huh?”
“You don’t want to part ways with her. It’s what’s holding you back.”
Right on. It was as though Minho was a mind-reader. A heavy weight pulled on Hyunjin’s heartstrings, made his heart even heavier than a few minutes prior.
“Yeah,” he didn’t lie, again. He looked at Minho, and the older could clearly see the uneasiness written all over his face. “If you were me… would you tell her about your feelings?”
“The fact that you like her?”
“Yeah.”
Minho fell silent. He pondered over the question, looking at the sight before him. The sun was setting, orange hues painting the sky. Hyunjin wondered if Paris sunsets would look the same.
“I think…” Minho turned towards the younger. He shook his head. “I wouldn’t tell her.”
“Why?”
“Won’t benefit you, I don’t think.” Hyunjin raised an eyebrow. “Listen. If you were to tell her, and she accepted, do you think you could get into a relationship with her?”
“I mean —”
Minho cut him, “Realistically, do you think the relationship would succeed? I mean, the time zone between Seoul and Paris is pretty big. The distance, too. I don’t think it would work out. And that’ll be bad, you know? You’ll both be left wondering what could have been.”
The truth hurt. The distance, the time — none of them were on Hyunjin’s side.
“And, if, God forbid, if she were to reject you… do you really want your last memory with her to be the hurt you’ll feel?”
Hyunjin shook his head. The other sighed, and patted him on the back.
“There are things better left unsaid. You should take her out. Spend your last time with her nicely.”
Despite Hyunjin’s stubbornness, he took Minho’s advice. It took him a lot of contemplating (and crying), but he followed it anyway. Whether he liked it or not, Minho’s advice had a lot of truth in it.
Bitter truths, but true regardless.
six.
“Where are we going?” you whined, trailing behind your dear friend. The sun was setting in two hours, orange hues were beginning to paint the sky. “Hyunnie, if you don’t tell me where we’re —”
“Please, stay patient. Will you?”
Hyunjin looked behind. He was wearing a blue knitted vest. In one hand, he held a picnic basket. The other, is your handbag. You never have to carry your own with him.
“But we’re literally in the middle of nowhere!”
“Please just trust me,” he pleaded. One hand was stretched towards you, a silent offer to hold his. “Come. If you’re too tired, I’ll give you a piggyback ride.”
Ever the opportunist, you took up on the offer. Alas, Hyunjin was left walking the remaining distance, you happily singing road trip songs while clinging onto his back. To butter him up, you told him that he must’ve been a blessing sent to you by God. Although he groaned at the remark, you couldn’t see the small smile on his face.
After a few minutes, you understood why Hyunjin was adamant about going out that day. Before you, green plains stretched as far as your eyes could see. Scattered across viridian shades were wildflowers. Some yellow, some pink.
Hyunjin had brought you to a flower field.
The picnic basket, and the Polaroid camera finally made sense.
Without any more words, you jumped off his back and ran into the field. The yellow sundress you wore matched that of the wildflowers. In Hyunjin’s eyes, you blended right in.
You were as pretty as the flowers.
“Careful, Yn! Don’t fall!” He called out, his voice echoing in the space. He watched you from afar. There was an urge to run among the flowers too, but he was much more content with watching you.
From a distance, in silence, he observed your every move. He couldn’t help the giggles that left his lips. The smile that lingered on his lips. He wanted this memory to last, to be ingrained in his brain forever. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to witness your happiness.
“Hyunnie, you need to come here! It’s so nice!”
Chuckling, he carefully placed the picnic basket on the ground. Hyunjin was done with setting up the picnic spot. He ran towards you, lifted you off the ground and twirled you around. You broke out into giggles and held onto his arms.
Among the flowers, two silhouettes danced with each other. Swaying to the same melody as the peonies. Despite being a ballerina, you kept stumbling onto Hyunjin’s feet, giggling each time he elicited an “ow.”
Like a scene from a movie.
Like he wasn’t going away soon.
Before the sun could set, Hyunjin convinced you to sit on the picnic blanket. He wished to dance with you longer, but alas, time awaits for no mortal.
“How do you want me to pose?” you asked. You were facing him, legs tucked sideways.
Hyunjin scooted closer to you, and wiped breadcrumbs off your lips. He commented on you eating messily. “You can pose however you want.”
You nodded, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Okay. Make sure you get my good angles, yeah?”
“You look good from any angle.”
Crimson crept up your face. You hadn’t expected that remark. You hoped he wouldn’t see you blush, you would just tell him it’s the sun then.
“Okay…”
Two clicks, then a flash went off. Your eyes widened, caught off-guard.
“You didn’t even count to three!”
Your whines were responded to with a giggle. The camera whirled, apprising you of a Polaroid developing. Hyunjin took it, fanning the Polaroid with a grin. He was excited to see it.
“I wasn’t ready!”
“Candid photos are better,” he sighed. “Don’t you know? Everything’s prettier when it’s genuine.”
“So you’re calling me pretty?”
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Have I ever said you’re ugly?”
Right. He has never.
You prayed to God the heat on your face was from the sun and not from blushing.
Once the Polaroid fully developed, Hyunjin made sure he was the first to see it. To your dismay, he held it close to his face, shielding it from you. His cheeks dimpled, illustrating his happiness. You looked so pretty, the sunlight on your face giving you an angelic glow. If he looked closer, he was sure he’d see a halo.
Hyunjin wanted to keep this forever.
If he couldn’t freeze the time, he figured he’d trap the memories in photographs.
“Let me see!” you whined. “It’s a picture of me! I have the right to see it.”
Scampering towards him, you waved your hands, trying to get the photograph off his hand. To no avail, Hyunjin had quick reflexes much thanks to his soccer experience.
“No! You can’t — it’s for my eyes only!”
“Ridiculous! That’s my face, Hyunnie!”
“It’s my camera film. So it’s mine!”
Neither one of you would let up, legs entangling against each other as you fought over the photograph. He was determined to not let you even see the picture. One of your palms pressed against the picnic blanket, the other reaching up towards his hand. Hyunjin used his free hand to push you gently but alas, he underestimated his own strength. In one swift move, you lost your balance, toppling over him.
“Ow,” he fell back and winced in pain. He looked up, and all the back pain was suddenly replaced by shyness. There you were, on his lap — face just as flushed as his.
Hyunjin didn’t know what to do now.
Pathetically, he just stared into your eyes, finding himself getting caught in them. He could feel your hitched breaths against his chest, he was very aware of your trembling fingers on his arms. There was a strong urge to kiss you as his eyes fell onto your lips. He wondered how they’d feel on his lips. He imagined it in his head — missing the way your eyes stared at his lips too.
If you were a flower, Hyunjin would be a bee. He desired you, eyes tracing the shape of your lips. Over, and over. If he kissed you, would your lips taste like honey?
He ought to find out. Hesitantly, he inched his head closer to yours. The warmth of your breath against his skin marked the closeness between you.
Numerous scenarios flashed in Hyunjin’s mind. Of him kissing you senseless, then whispering a love confession in your ear. Of your cold fingers pressing into his skin as he tells you each perk of yours that he loved endlessly. The more he imagined, the closer he was. You shut your eyes, waiting for his lips to finally press onto yours.
Paris. The one-way plane ticket to Paris.
Against his heart’s desire, his fingers cupped your chin instead. Subtly, he pulled back, eyes trailing back up to your eyes. He ignored the look of confusion in your eyes.
Reaching down, he pocketed the photograph. His heart clenched as he spoke, but he did anyway.
“I win.”
The two words pulled you from your trance — they tore off your heart like paper. You blinked, watching the playful smirk that graced Hyunjin’s porcelain face.
“Oh.”
The whole journey home, bitterness sat on Hyunjin’s tongue like the aftertaste of tangerine pulp. Did you want the kiss too, or had his libido fabricated things?
Nevertheless, he couldn’t kiss you. Not when he had suitcases packed for Beaux-Art de Paris. Not when it’s all his parents could talk about.
Minho’s words played in Hyunjin’s mind like a broken record. They served as a reminder of what could not be. For the sake of his heart, he told himself that it had all been a figment of his imagination.
Tension cloaked the front door of your house. Neither of you made a noise, save for the jingling keys in your carabiner. You observed Hyunjin, who was busy looking at his shoes. Once again, his mind wasn’t in his head. It had been that way for a few weeks.
“See you soon?” you mumbled.
Hyunjin looked up, nodding at your words. He pulled you into a hug, one that almost crushed your bones. Shakingly, he nuzzled his head into your neck, burying his face into the skin like you would dissolve if he didn't. It must’ve hurt his back but you made no comment, instead you wrapped your arms around his neck, in hopes it'll give him solace. By the front door you held him, so tight that it was as though the two of you were one, the curves of his fingers burning through your skin.
You didn’t know that it was a goodbye. It had to stay that way.
Once more, his heart clenched in his chest. Two hands cupped your cheeks, as gentle as he could be, like you would break. He engraved this version of you into his memory — kind eyes boring into his with a soft smile plastered across the face he'd grown to adore. He vowed to always remember this face.
Deeply, he inhaled his breath. Preparing the next words — lies to say to you, no matter how tight his chest felt.
“Yeah, see you soon.”
The last words Hwang Hyunjin muttered to you.
seven.
One day before your birthday.
It had been two days since Hyunjin brought you to the meadow. You hadn’t seen him much, just glimpses of him as he played around with Kkami in his backyard. You figured that he was busy.
“Hello, I’m home!” you said in a sing-song voice as you stepped into the Hwang household. Kkami who’d usually greet you wasn’t in his usual spot, so you trudged straight to the kitchen, where Hyunjin’s mother was sitting. “Hi, Mrs Hwang.”
She looked up, lips twitching into a smile, a cookie-cutter of Hyunjin’s. Under the kitchen light, you don’t miss the dried tears by her eyes. You pursed your lips, wondering if she was watching a sad drama. Hyunjin inherited his trait of easily crying from his mother, after all.
“Hi, sweet girl,” she looked at your outfit from head to toe. “Why are you all dressed up?”
“Oh,” you muttered, giving her a little twirl. “My birthday outfit! Is it pretty?”
“Of course.”
You smiled at her, fiddling with the hem of your blouse. Keenly, you looked around the kitchen for any traces of Hyunjin. You realized that the house seemed much quieter than usual, emptier than normal.
“Where’s Hyunjin?” you asked. The reason why you’d come over was to show your best friend your birthday outfit. Now that you were there, he was nowhere to be seen. “Is he home?”
Sympathy materialized in the mother’s old eyes. She tilted her head at you, lips pursing as she thought of the correct words to say.
“My girl, did he not tell you?”
Confusion would be an understatement. Hyunjin told you everything, everything — from pointless thoughts to his deepest, darkest secrets. You were his secret keeper, his companion — there was nothing he wouldn’t tell you.
Was there?
It had to be something unimportant, right? Perhaps he was off to an art workshop and forgot to tell you. But looking at his mother, it felt like something big. You grew anxious under her sympathetic gaze.
“Tell me what?” you questioned, letting out a nervous chuckle.
“We just came back from Incheon Airport. He’s on a plane to Paris,” the lady replied. She stood up, inching closer towards your trembling figure. “Did he not tell you, Yn? I thought he did.”
“Paris?” you asked, blinking. “Like. For a vacation?”
“No, sweetheart. Beaux-Arts de Paris. He got into the school.”
The words felt like bullets on skin, penetrating and chagrining you deeply. It felt unreal — a hoax.
You scoffed, “What? He wouldn’t go without telling me.” Your eyes searched for humour in his mother’s eyes. “Is this like, a birthday prank?”
Her eyes saddened even more. “No, sweetheart. He really went.”
Another betrayal came in the form of tears cascading down your eyes without warning. The emotions hit you faster than your brain could process things. Speechless, you took steps back from his mother, before running up the staircase to his room.
He had to be there. Sitting in his swivel chair and laughing at your face. He’ll tell you it was a prank and wipe away your tears.
Hyunjin was your best friend of a lifetime. He wouldn’t do this to you. He had to be there.
When the door to his room swung open, a sob was knocked out of your mouth.
All traces of life in the bedroom were gone, save for the soft purrs of Kkami sleeping on the bed. The bed was stripped of its bedsheets, and the towels hanging behind the door were gone. The laundry bag was empty.
All traces of Hyunjin were gone.
The realization hit harder than his mother’s words. If the words hurt like bullets on skin, the sight of Hyunjin’s lifeless room felt like a knife twisted in your gut. It felt like sanguine dripping from wounds, and Hyunjin’s holding the knife. It felt like a betrayal.
“Hyunjin,” his name slipped from your lips like a plea. “Hyunjin.”
More choked sobs escaped your windpipes as you searched around the room. First, it was his wardrobe. The oak material was practically empty, all that remained were a couple of sleep tees and the shirts you’ve left over the years. You rummaged through the hangers, finding that he had brought one of your sweatshirts along.
The confirmation of his departure was the emptiness of his study table. Each nook and cranny of his table used to feel like Hyunjin, from the stacks of sketchbooks to eraser dust. Everything was Hyunjin — but at that moment, there was nothing. There was only a void — that of his desk and your heart.
Your best friend was truly gone.
“Hyunjin,” the name wrestled its way past your lips again. This time, it was out of longing. “Hyunjin.”
The manner in which you walked to his bed echoed your feelings. Quivering, like a toddler’s first time walking. Your body fell onto the bed, earning a soft whine from Kkami. Gently, you held Kkami in your arms, letting a stream of tears cascade down your cheeks. For the first time in a while, you allowed yourself to cry, to feel, to mourn.
If someone were to tell you that Hyunjin out of all people would make you cry that much, you would’ve laughed. Never in a million years, you’d say. The only times he had made you cry were from laughter.
“Kkami,” you cried. The chihuahua nuzzled its head into your arms, as though it could feel your sorrow. Perhaps it could. “I miss Hyunjin.”
The dog whined. It looked up to you, placing its paw onto your arm. You cried even more.
“I wanted to tell him about how I feel today,” through sobs, you managed to speak. “How could he make me feel so many things in one day and disappear the other? He didn't even say goodbye.”
It felt like the chihuahua was mourning with you — the way it nudged its head onto your arm, letting out soft whimpers. As though it was telling you that things will be okay.
You weren’t sure that it would. You spent your whole life with Hyunjin by your side, you had never known life without him. Now that he was ripped from your grasp, you didn’t know how to go on. No — he voluntarily released himself from your grasp, without warning. It was worse.
Physical traces of Hyunjin in his room were gone. There was only his scent — the smell of his shampoo, and his cologne. It lingered in the room, mocking you.
In your melancholic state of mind, you could only weep.
eight.
“Coffee, or tea?”
A female voice broke Hyunjin from his trance. He looked up at the stewardess standing by his seat, the sweatshirt doused in your scent crumpling in his tight grip.
“I want to get off this plane,” sat on his tongue and dissolved. He took a deep breath.
“Um,” he looked at the cart, “Plain water, please?”
Coffee would only force Hyunjin to stay awake, forcing him to listen to his own brain’s torments for 14 hours straight. Tea reminded him too much of you, of the times when you were little and would make him play tea party with you. He’ll think about the times you’d cheekily kiss his cheek, an attempt to woo him into playing with you. It worked each time.
The stewardess nodded, handing him a water bottle branded with the aeroplane’s logo. He muttered a thank you, yet the stewardess still didn’t walk away. She looked nice, her eyes analyzing Hyunjin told him that he must’ve looked like the epitome of a wreck.
“First time flying?” she questioned. It wasn’t his first time, having gone on many vacations before yet he nodded. “I see. It’ll be fine, just sit back and relax.”
The woman, whose name tag said Chaewon flashed Hyunjin a hospitality smile — one he didn’t think he deserved — then walked away. Hyunjin pursed his lips, wishing that she hadn’t walked away. He didn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts, he didn’t want to be awake, he didn’t want to be in this plane — there were a lot of things he didn’t want to do, but had to do.
Hyunjin wanted to turn back.
Silently, he looked out the window, watching as the landscapes of Seoul grew smaller, slowly becoming covered with clouds. He desperately wished to get out, praying to God that the plane would miraculously turn back and the tableau of Seoul would become bigger. Had he told the stewardess named Chaewon he wanted to get off, would they have let him? Had he told his parents he didn’t want to go to Paris, would they have understood?
If he tells you he’s sorry, would you forgive him?
Regrets and memories clouded his mind, tears making their way down his cheeks. Each thought strangled his heart, and he could feel it physically aching. In a melancholic state of mind he sat, clinging onto your sweatshirt like it was his lifeline, allowing slumber to slowly take over.
The break from his own thoughts did not last long enough.
Seven hours later, Hyunjin woke up to dried tears on his cheeks. He straightened his posture and glanced at the window, feeling a wave of emotions at the change of landscapes. Hyunjin wasn’t sure in which city they were flying over, but he could say with certainty that it did not look like Seoul. It did not feel like home, it did not feel like you.
Unable to fall back to sleep, he couldn’t help the thoughts that poisoned his mind. Looking over the landscapes, he came to a realization much too painful for his heart to bear.
You and him — you were the Sun, and he was the Moon. Two people of different circumstances, who’ll never meet, ripped away from the merciless hands of time. For your timezones were different — horizons even more.
As a wave of new tears descended, Hyunjin wondered if he would ever forget about you.
The answer came to him one afternoon three years later, as he laid on the couch in his Parisian apartment.
No, he’d never forget about you. At least not in three years. Maybe not even in five.
Sunlight seeped in through the balcony, providing Hyunjin the warmth he wasn’t able to receive from a person. His roommate was a French guy who was always out and about, leaving Hyunjin to soak in his own company for hours on end. Sometimes, for days. Hyunjin loved and hated it at the same time.
His limbs stretched across the burgundy couch, a yawn eliciting past his lips. Brown eyes stared at the canvas in front of him, black and white hues scattered on white, forming a half-finished painting of you.
Years later, and you remained at the back of his mind — his muse.
Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
nine.
There are five stages of grief.
Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then acceptance. Denial was the hardest for you, having spent your entire birthday staring at the front door of your house, praying Hyunjin would walk in. When your friends sang you a Happy Birthday, it sounded like a morose ballad playing from a broken record. Without Hyunjin, gloom sat at the centre of even the happiest things.
Then came a sixth stage — one that seemed to exist for you.
Motivation.
After coming to acceptance that your best friend had gone, without any farewell, you spent many hours a day in the ballet studio. Pirouette, arabesque, plié — you managed to polish each move with the amount of time you spent cooped up in the studio. You weren’t born with ballet feet, but the times spent in pointe shoes had somehow moulded you into having them.
Perhaps, it was distraction, disguised as motivation.
Nevertheless, the tireless hours of practice granted you a position in the Paris Ballet School.
Paris felt bittersweet when you first landed. It was the city of your dreams, but the reminiscence of the person it took from you made you loathe it.
Withal, life had to go on. To cope with the Parisian lifestyle, you managed to get a job at a cafe near your academy — Desir Cafe. You worked night shifts as a kitchen crew but if traffic was overwhelming in the afternoons, your shitty excuse of a boss would make you come in anyway.
Unfortunately for you, it was one of those days. Clinks and sizzles reverberated in the kitchen, the peg board overwhelmed with sticky notes of orders. You were everywhere in the kitchen, from piping icing on cupcakes to sprinkling chocolate rice on pastries.
“Yn,” the main baker yelled, “Tell Double C’s we can’t stock up on macarons! We’re out of almond flour!”
The Double C’s — Charlotte, and Colette. They were a duo who worked as waitresses, always gossiping. Birds of the same feather, attached by the hip.
Exasperated, you headed to the front, swinging the kitchen door open to see the duo gossiping. Charlotte was leaning in towards Colette, whispering into her ear, earning giggles from the other. You sighed, wondering what the topic was that afternoon. Curious as to who they were gossiping about, you looked towards the direction they were looking.
Seated alone at the corner of the cafe was a guy, blonde hair gleaming golden from the sunlight seeping through the big window. His utmost focus was on the sketchbook in front of him, frail fingers dancing across paper, entrancing any eyes which fell upon him. You couldn’t help but stare, your face gradually contorting into disbelief.
He resembled too much like Hyunjin — your Hyunjin.
Your gaze lingered on the man, analyzing each crease of his face, matching it with the one you had in mind. He looked just like Hyunjin, from the shape of his nose to the mole under his eye. The only difference was the hair. Hyunjin’s hair was raven black, but the person in the cafe had golden blonde hair. You felt your throat tighten. If the man sitting at the corner was him, then time had done good on him. He was beautiful, face sculptured beautifully by time’s gentle hands.
“Ooh, look who’s ogling!” a high-pitched voice interrupted you. You looked up to see the Double C’s looking at you, wiggling their eyebrows mischievously. Charlotte smirked, “Think the guy’s cute?”
“Huh? What guy?” you lied, feeling your cheeks heat up.
Colette rolled her eyes. “The dude over there! Don’t lie, you think he’s cute.” The brunette wiggled her eyebrows even more, subtly pointing at the man.
You didn’t say anything else, but your eyes travelled back to the familiar silhouette. The sense of familiarity tugged on fragile heartstrings the more you looked at him. Colette could sense your curiosity, so she parted her lips to speak.
“That’s Hyunjin. He’s a student in Beaux-Arts de Paris,” she muttered, unbeknownst to her the mixed emotions that dawned upon you. “He comes here almost every afternoon. Maybe that’s why you’ve never seen him before. He’s cute, isn’t he?”
Excitedly, Charlotte nodded her head. “A total heart-throb, honestly.”
“I mean…” your voice trailed, “He’s quite alright.”
How were you supposed to react to finally seeing the one who got away? Were you supposed to feel excited, or upset? It was like the moon had suddenly dropped down onto your lap.
You were confused.
Charlotte continued speaking, not realizing the mixture of emotions in your face. “Sometimes, the students have exhibitions about ten minutes from here. His artworks always make it to the exhibitions. I’ve seen them, and they’re really beautiful.”
You turned towards her, “Exhibitions?”
She nodded, still naive as to your shift in behaviour. “I think the school has an exhibition every three months or so.”
Unfaltering, your eyes bored holes in Hyunjin’s back. He was in his own little world, evidently absorbed in whatever piece he was working on. Just like that, the memories you spent years suppressing came rushing back.
It was unfair, the impact he had on you. There he was, lounging in a corner while your heart grappled in your chest. He looked older, better — and you were still the little girl in the tree house. Swaying your feet as they dangled, as though you had all the time in the world.
Charlotte and Colette exchanged looks as you stared at him. To them, you were simply developing a crush on a stranger. They wouldn’t understand the conflict brewing in you, they wouldn’t be able to comprehend the ache that stirred in the depths of your heart.
“What? You’re interested in him?” Charlotte spoke, breaking you off your trance. You looked at her, blinking. “Don’t even try. I’ve tried. I think he’s gay.”
Your eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
“He’s not gay — oh my god, Lottie!” it was Colette’s turn to speak. Playfully, she smacked the other’s arm. “I asked that guy he’s always with, the songwriter — Felix. Cute guy, that one. Felix told me that he’s got a secret lover or something.”
“Secret lover?”
“Yeah. Apparently, he likes to draw this one girl. His sketchbook’s filled with her,” Colette murmured, glancing at Hyunjin. “Felix asked her who she was, and he said it’s a girl of his dreams.”
Your heart dropped. You weren’t sure to which news you should react first, either Charlotte hitting up on your Hyunjin, or that he has a secret lover. Either way, it made you pathetically jealous. Your heartstrings thrummed in anger as you imagined a beautiful French girl spread out on his bed, and Charlotte hitting up on your Hyunjin.
How could he go on with his life when you spent years mourning him?
Crimson tainted your lip as you bit on it hard, the taste of metal at the tip of your tongue.
Perhaps, you never made it past the anger stage of your grief.
ten.
You truly tried to be happy for Hyunjin.
For days, weeks — you spent convincing yourself that you had to be happy for him. Sure, he hurt you three years ago. Sure, you spent years in agony, regretting not telling him how you felt earlier, wondering what could’ve been. Sure, you hoped that you’d see him in Paris and he’d tell you that he’s in love with you and kiss you senseless — but those were just desperate prayers, weren’t they? Those were simply hopeful scenarios. You hadn’t expected them to come true, had you?
Hyunjin was your best friend of years. He deserved happiness, even when you didn’t feel happy. You had to let things go. You had to be happy for him.
Clearly, you failed at convincing yourself.
In front of a building you stood, the sound of people walking past becoming white noise. You stared at the banner standing in front of you, the words Autumn Exhibition displayed, with the logo of Beaux-Arts de Paris at the top. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat.
A week ago, Charlotte told you that the university would be holding another exhibition, and Hyunjin’s artworks most likely made it into the exhibition. You knew then, that you had to go. If you didn’t get to see him, then you at least wanted to see his pieces. To not be a part of his life was devastating, you wished to at least witness glimpses of it.
9:45 p.m. was displayed on your screen, people were beginning to leave the exhibition. There weren’t many people around, which was what you were hoping for. Visiting the exhibition in daylight meant potentially bumping into Hyunjin, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for that.
One day you ought to meet him, but not today. Not when the fragments of your heart have yet to be mended.
After taking a deep breath, you willed yourself to step into the exhibition. A gust of wind hit your face, and you shivered, clutching your coat tight. The art display seemed to be painting-themed, the way frames of canvases were scattered around the building. Baroque paintings were displayed all over, each piece as beautiful as skies at dusk.
The tapping of your heels against the ceramic tiles sounded as you walked, the romantic lighting of the room providing you with a sense of comfort. Wildly, your eyes observed each piece, letting your heart be swayed by the beauty.
They were all beautiful — but they didn’t feel like Hyunjin.
Until your eyes trailed to a certain piece.
It was the centrepiece, the piece — little bulbs of lights were installed above the frame, making the piece feel alive. The moment your gaze fell on the artwork, you couldn’t help but feel drawn in, taking hurried steps towards it. You stared, unable to take your eyes off the hues on the canvas.
There weren’t many hues, just black and white. It depicted two figures on swings. You couldn’t see the figures clearly but you could tell they looked happy. You could see through the strokes of paint that they were happy — though the artist not so. There was a certain sadness in the painting, one that screamed nostalgia.
The longer you looked at the piece, the more you realized.
It was a fragment of your memory.
Your breath hitched. In came a memory of you and Hyunjin — running around the park before playing on swings. It was a particularly memorable day, you could recall falling off the swing and Hyunjin kneeling in front of you, kissing the bruises on your knees with the tenderness of a feather. It was the first time you felt so protected, and so loved.
A rush of emotions overcame you, you wondered if that was how Hyunjin felt when he painted it. Had he thought of you, and wept by his easel? Had he stained his cheeks with charcoal as he wiped stray tears off his face?
You wondered, so much so that you failed to realize a silhouette entering the display.
Hyunjin didn’t enjoy art exhibitions in daylight. They felt pompous. The people who visited the exhibitions would usually walk around casually, and took photos. They didn’t harbour any sort of deep appreciation towards art, they didn’t sit and admire.
Therefore, Hyunjin loved revisiting exhibitions in the comfort of twilight. When the expositions were empty, he enjoyed revisiting them, taking his sweet time to admire each piece.
When he spotted a figure standing before his piece — his most vulnerable piece, he felt his heart drop. He watched from afar as this person observed the artwork, body as still as a mannequin. He had never witnessed someone admire a piece this intensely, especially with it being one of his pieces. He felt flattered, his heart swelling in pride and joy.
Silently, Hyunjin approached the figure. Usually, he was shy, not the type to approach people first but somehow, he felt the strong urge to this time. Fate was pulling him by his heartstrings.
“That’s my painting,” Hyunjin spoke, ensuring his voice was as soft as possible.
The sudden voice startled you. You whipped your head towards the source of the noise, eyes widened in shock. They widened even more at the sight before you.
Hyunjin’s breath hitched. His heartbeats escalated, taking in the figure standing in front of him. His fingers dug into the skin of his thumb, lips quivering. Brown doe eyes mirrored yours.
“Wh — what?” he spoke again, breathless. “Yn?”
A few steps were taken, inching closer towards you. His eyes scanned your face, lips quivering even more when he realized that it was you — you were real, and you were standing in front of him. You looked the same as you did three years ago, except more beautiful. How’d you get more beautiful? The passage of time had seemingly been good to you, the way it had carved your face into one Hyunjin could imagine himself filling his canvases with.
“Hyunjin,” you willed yourself to speak. You ignored the way your eyes watered. “It’s you.”
“It’s you, too. You’re here.”
Another few, brave steps were taken. You, on the other hand, didn’t move an inch.
“I hate you,” the words spilt past sanguine mouth before you could stop them, its venom contrasting the hushed tone of your voice. They crushed Hyunjin’s heart, though he knew he deserved them. “But I missed you.”
“I’m sorry,” was all that he could say. Hyunjin meant it. He really was sorry. He was sorry as he sent you back from the meadow, too cowardly to bid you goodbye. He was sorry when he packed his bags, stealing one of your sweatshirts for solace. He was sorry when he was on the plane, wishing he could turn back time. He was sorry when he painted numerous portraits of you. He was sorry as he stood before you, watching tears flow down your cheeks because it was the least he could do — a form of punishment for what he had done to you.
You shook your head, palms rushing towards your face to wipe away tears.
“It’s not enough, I know,” he mumbled, moving closer towards you to wipe your tears, like it was instinct, feeling his heart clench when you took steps back. “But I truly am sorry.”
“You didn’t even say goodbye,” you sobbed, vision blurry. “You didn’t even contact me.”
“I know, Yn, I know — I’m sorry. I wanted to call you, but I couldn’t,” he rambled, cupping your cheeks and rubbing on the skin. You allowed him to. “I swear, I wanted to write to you, but I was too embarrassed, and by the time I had enough courage it was already too late.”
Sobs wrestled their way past your lips, barely able to form coherent words. You kept shaking your head, blurting out the words you’ve kept for years.
“You just left me, Hyunjin — you left me. A day before my birthday,” your whimpers got louder, “I wanted to tell you I’m in love with you, on my birthday. Hell, three years later and I’m still in love with you.”
Hyunjin’s face paled. He had expected curses, and cries — but he hadn’t expected that. Anything, but that. His limbs moved before his brain could process things, lifting your chin to meet eyes. Your eyes were tinted with tears, but you were still beautiful. You’re always beautiful.
“What?” he squeezed your cheeks, “Yn, what?”
“You heard me. I’m not saying it again. It's fucking pathetic.”
“Fuck,” he exhaled. Hyunjin knew he was supposed to feel remorse, but God — his heart bloomed at the words you had whispered to him. You’re in love with him. You’re in love with him, the same way he was in love with you. “Fuck, Yn. You can't just say shit like that.”
Feather-like touches grazed your lips. There was a certain look in Hyunjin's eyes, one that you couldn't quite figure out — they were a look of longing. How could you know it was longing when you had never bear witness to them? You could feel his breath against your face, warm like his fingertips.
“You have no fucking idea how long I've been in love with you. You have no idea how much I missed you. Fuck, I think about you every fucking day,” he whispered, “You have no idea how much I regret getting on that plane.”
At that moment, all you could feel was Hyunjin. His deep, brown eyes staring into yours and his thumb pressing onto your lip.
“Kiss me,” you whispered back, “Kiss me, Hwang Hyunjin.”
And kiss you, he did. His lips crashed against yours with fervour, moving his lips to the same beat as his racing heart. You kissed back in the same manner, letting out the emotions you had bottled up.
I love you, I love you — each movement of his lips was a love confession, etching his adoration onto the curves of your lips. You caressed his cheeks akin to holding stars in your palms — careful, precious.
Finally, you pulled apart to catch your breaths, bodies heaving against each other.
“Please, give me a second chance.”
It’s odd the way human minds work, because at that very moment, you were reminded of Colette's words. Ones that mentioned a rumoured secret lover.
“But,” you felt silly for saying it, “Your secret lover?”
“My secret lover?” the boy's eyebrows furrowed. He then chuckled upon realization. The rumour must've spread to you. “Ah, that secret lover. It's you, idiot.”
He smiled. You didn’t think anyone could look as beautiful as he did.
“It's always been you.”
eleven.
“Careful — come on, get under here.”
Giggles echoed in the alleyways as two shadows lingered in the darkness of midnight. It was raining, the pavements darkening with wetness and the wind howling a sweet melody. At that particular hour, under the moonlight, Paris looked like the city of love.
You rushed out of the exposition hall, getting under Hyunjin’s leather jacket. He’d promised you the date of your lifetime that night, and he wasn’t one to break his promises.
Hyunjin’s back was damp from the rain, but it didn’t matter as long as not a droplet landed on your body. It only took a few minutes (and a lot of giggles in between) to reach Hyunjin’s so-called secret spot.
Streetlights shone on a bench, and clusters of flowers surrounded a little pond. The spot overlooked the city, you could see the city lights from all the way up here. You gasped in awe, it’s no wonder Hyunjin insisted on coming here.
“So beautiful,” you whispered. Hyunjin smiled softly, moving closer towards you on the bench and wrapped an arm around your waist.
While fondly looking at your visage, he muttered. “Yeah, it’s pretty.”
“How’d you find this place?”
“I found it while I was walking one night,” he explained, resting his head on yours. You could smell his shampoo in this closeness. “I was sad. This garden reminded me of the one we used to go to when we were kids.”
Your heart swelled at the confession.
“It does resemble that one a lot.”
The skies were still drizzling rain, but you were both a little sheltered much thanks to the oak tree above you. Only droplets dripped, falling onto your head but it was a nice sensation. Besides, you couldn’t feel the cold when you’re nuzzled in Hyunjin’s arm, blanketed in his familiar warmth. You allowed silence to third-wheel you, eyes busied with observing the sight. Silence was always comfortable with Hyunjin. The time spent apart hadn’t changed that.
He wouldn’t leave you alone, his skin constantly touching yours. It burned against you. You didn’t mind it. Instead, you basked in his love, listening to the sounds of his heartbeats as your head rested on his chest. He intertwined your fingers together, his thumb rubbing against yours. He wouldn’t let go of you, not even when he bent down to pluck a flower, slipping the daffodil onto your ear.
“I missed you,” he murmured. You weren’t sure how much he’d repeated that phrase but you liked it. “I truly did.”
For the thousandth time that night, you responded. “I missed you too.”
The conversation changed into one about your lives, catching up on each other’s shenanigans. It was comfortable, being with Hyunjin. Topics changed seamlessly. You didn’t have to put much effort into talking to him, you just had to be there.
Softly, his hands moved towards your feet, taking off one of your shoes. He held onto your ankle, tracing his pointer across your sole. You giggled, the feather-like touches tickled.
“You still have the feet of a ballerina.”
“Of course, silly,” you scoffed, “I am one after all.”
“I’m so glad that your dreams came true,” he whispered, putting your leg down. He cupped your cheek, showcasing a fond smile that stretched to his ears. “I’m really happy that you’re here.”
“Of course,” you repeated. “You told me you’d be wherever I am. It’s only fair I returned the favour.”
The words knocked out Hyunjin’s breath, and it filled his soul with so much adoration, he felt like he could burst. A pleading expression was written all over his porcelain visage, the way in which he squeezed your hand expressing his feelings even more.
“Please,” he pleaded. “I need to be yours.”
You kissed him, for the second time that night.
“I’m already yours, Hyunnie.”
twelve.
Things with Hyunjin had been going exceptionally well.
After the fated night, you carried on with so much happiness that you practically beamed everywhere you went. One time when you clocked into work, the Double C’s made kissy noises at you, and Charlotte had whispered, “You must’ve had crazy good sex last night.”
You couldn’t deny it, of course.
Date nights with Hyunjin happened thrice a week, with coffee runs in between classes. The Paris Ballet School and Beaux-Arts de Paris weren’t that far from each other, allowing you to sneak lunches together almost daily. Though you had to admit that even if the universities were far, Hyunjin definitely wouldn’t mind spending extra time just to see you. Sometimes, he’d watch you dance, and sometimes, you’d watch him paint.
It was like you were both making up for the lack of each other the past three years.
After just two weeks of your relationship, you were acquainted with the comfort of Hyunjin’s home. His roommate was barely home, so you felt comfortable with coming over often. Most weekends, you’d spend the night over.
Morning birds chirped a jolly ballad, waking you from your slumber. You stretched, feeling the heat of Hyunjin’s skin against yours. You couldn’t help the smile that grazed your face when you looked at him, fast asleep under the duvets beside you. Sleepily, you pressed a kiss onto his bare shoulder, then traced the memories of last night, tattooed on his skin in the form of bruises. It pulled a whine from him, moving under the duvet to press himself impossibly closer towards you.
“Flower,” he mumbled, morning voice husky, “I'm cold.”
“Then come cuddle.”
He did as told, wrapping strong arms around you. You felt his fingers ghost against your naked spine, sending heat straight to your core. You couldn't help the whimper that left you, earning a playful grin from your boyfriend.
“It's too early to get in the mood, no? Baby?”
Flushed, you smacked his arm. “Shut up.”
Hyunjin giggled, leaning towards you to press kisses onto your face. Mornings with him were often spent like this — limbs entangled, as if you were one.
“Need to shower, baby,” he sighed, “Have an exhibition today.”
To your dismay, he slowly pulled away from you, missing the warmth of his body.
“You coming to the exposition?”
“Of course,” you hummed. “Go shower. Can I borrow your laptop while you're in the shower?”
“Yeah, baby. The password's your birthday.”
He got up from the bed, and you flushed as you looked at his bare body. Unluckily for you, your boyfriend quickly noticed your flushed face, taking it as an opportunity to throw a pillow at you and call you a pervert. You rolled your eyes, watching him enter the bathroom before getting up, wrapping the duvet around your naked body.
You walked towards his study to retrieve his laptop, smiling at the artworks displayed on his peg board. One was of you — a painting of the Polaroid he took of you back in the meadow. The Polaroid itself sat at the back of his phone case. He had never taken it out since the first time he put it in back then.
Whilst humming to a melody, you kicked in the digits of your birthday. The laptop unlocked, showcasing the unclosed tabs.
Your eyes widened at the words written on the screen.
Congratulations, you've been chosen for a student exchange programme to Rome.
Your heart skipped a beat. Repeatedly, your eyes skimmed the words on the screen. You didn't mean to pry but you scrolled through the email, feeling your heart sink upon seeing the date it was sent.
Over a week ago.
Yet Hyunjin hadn't told you anything.
After all these years, he was still keeping secrets from you. You couldn't handle it, and so for the sake of your heart you exited the tab, and shut down the laptop. Careful as to not make much noise, you got dressed.
“Hyunjin,” you knocked on the bathroom door. “Need to be at the academy now. Bye.”
You needed to be away from him — you needed to clear your head.
thirteen.
You hadn't seen Hyunjin for a week.
The texts from him you didn't avoid, responding each time he sent a message. However, you'd been dodging his requests of meeting, under the guise of practice when in truth, you hadn’t gone for classes in a week. You spent your days moping in your apartment.
Perhaps it was a little childish of you to do, but you couldn't bear the thought of going through what you did before. You'd tasted a life without Hyunjin, and you were certain you didn't want to live through it again. This was your way of mentally preparing for that life again.
Your limbs lazily stretched across the cotton duvet as a vinyl played in the background. A melodramatic song played, matching the current tune of your heart. You weren't entirely sure what time it was, but the sound of the apartment bell ringing hinted that it was afternoon. It must be the takeout your roommate ordered.
“Reine,” a familiar voice reverberated in your apartment. “Where's Yn?”
“In her bedroom,” your roommate, Reine replied in her thick French accent. “She's been in there moping all week.”
Damn you, Reine.
Quickly, you buried yourself in your duvet, anticipating the footsteps which approached your room. Soon, your door swung open, and you could smell the white gardenia in his cologne.
“My flower,” his voice tempted you to look, “What’s going on, sweet girl?”
It didn’t help that each syllable that slipped past his lips felt like honey.
You felt his hands pull down your duvet before you came face to face with your boyfriend. He stood before you, hair slicked back and the white blouse he wore accentuated his shoulders. In his hands was a bouquet of flowers, patches of peonies and daffodils peeking from the wrapper.
You didn’t utter any words, simply looking at him with watery doe eyes. He didn’t miss the glint of tears, immediately setting the bouquet on your nightstand to get onto the bed. Tenderly, he pulled you onto his lap.
“You look so sad,” he mumbled, “Can my sweet girl please tell me why she’s so sad?”
Damn, him. How were you supposed to stand a chance when he was so ridiculously handsome and sweet?
Trembling, you parted your lips to speak.
“You’re hiding things from me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What things, baby?”
Your eyes shot daggers at him, bottom lip forming into a pout. Hyunjin had to stop himself from leaning in and biting it.
“You got offered to an exchange student programme,” you finally bit the bullet. “You’re planning on keeping it a secret and just leaving me again, aren’t you?”
Ah.
Hyunjin’s eyes softened. He sighed, caressing your cheek in his hand. He shook his head as his free hand rested on your thigh, massaging the supple skin.
“No, I’m rejecting it,” he answered. “I didn’t tell you because I thought there was no point in telling you if I didn’t even want to go.”
“What?” you responded, voice a little higher than you intended it to be. Your eyes scanned his for any lies. “Hyunjin — it’s a good opportunity.”
“What, you don’t want me here anymore?” he joked, raising an eyebrow at you. “Baby, Paris is already enough for me. I don’t really want to move again.”
You nodded at his words. A huge part of you felt relieved — and you felt awful for feeling that way.
Love, sometimes, is about being selfish after all.
“Were you sad because you thought I was going?” your boyfriend queried, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.
You shrugged. “A little. I was more mad that you didn’t tell me.”
“Oh,” he nodded, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to keep it a secret, I just didn’t mention it because it felt insignificant.”
“I want you to tell me things,” you mumbled, wrapping your arms around his neck. It left goosebumps in its wake. “I want to know these things.”
“Okay," he mumbled. Something about his compliance made you feel fonder of him. "I'll start telling you these things."
A sigh of relief left your lips. You had known Hyunjin for years, but being with him was different. A good kind of difference. It would take you a while to adjust to these changes — but it was the kind of changes you'd want to adjust to.
Hyunjin's fingers trailed to your hips, ghosting over your skin until they reached your thighs. He traced the stretch marks there, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You couldn't help the whine that left your mouth, and the heat that arose, tainting the tips of your ears in crimson. Hyunjin enjoyed this — flustering you with his ministrations. He allowed you to nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, whimpering as he felt your lips litter kisses on his most sensitive spots.
"I love you," he confessed, like honey dripping from lips. "Promise I'll be wherever you are."
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cherry pits - psh (m)
this work contains smut - minors please do not interact
pairing. dad!sunghoon x fem!reader
synopsis. Your alarmingly empty bank account forces you to find a last-minute summer job so that you can afford a trip with your friends. The extremely handsome customer that comes into the store just happens to be a young single dad who's renovating the old house next to yours. The tension that settles between the two of you as you start helping him fix up his house soon becomes unbearable, but it's all one-sided anyway, right?
(Spoiler: wrong.)
genre. DILF AUUUUUUUUU!!!!!!, neighbors au, s2l, summer au, slight age gap (reader is 21 and hoon 26), reader is so down bad over sunghoon its actually crazy but also extremely relatable cause this is sunghoon we're talking about, fluff and smut, sex gets freakyyy ngl
word count. 12.9k
a/n. hey sisters had no time to write anything this week so i am coming back (everybody boos) with a repost yayyy!!! i actually love this story idkw i just find it fun so i hope you guys will enjoy rereading / reading it !!!! as always let me know ur thoughts.. even if they're just incomprehensible screaming (bad or good).. im happy w anything ok bye!!!
You’ve always wondered about the ratio of cherry to pit. Such a big pit for so little flesh, isn’t it? Yet that’s never stopped you from biting into the small fruit, eating what you could and spitting out the unwanted part. You actually rather enjoy this whole process. Bite, eat, spit. You could repeat this with huge bowls of cherries at a time until they upset your stomach and you had to stop for your own good.
Bite, eat, spit is exactly what you’re doing when, with a trembling finger, you finally brave to open your banking app and check your balance. It’s the beginning of summer, and after two semesters of intense studying and too-much-coffee drinking, you think you deserve three long months of doing nothing but hanging out in your childhood bedroom and eating the food your parents buy and make. You’re especially looking forward to the vacation in Mexico you have planned with your friends at the end of August.
One look at your bank account and your dreams of white beaches and seas so blue you couldn’t tell them apart from the sky shatter around you, the sad, low numbers on the screen sneering at you mockingly. You were sure you had saved enough money from part-time jobs and generous relatives, but now you regret all of those night-outs and lazy takeaways. If you had cut down on those, maybe you wouldn’t have to go through the hassle of finding a summer job at the last minute, which you would definitely have to do if you wanted to eat something on that dear beach of yours and not just starve to death under the glaring sun.
That was it - tomorrow, you’d go and get a job. Today, however, you’d enjoy your last day of respite and eat some more cherries, or maybe make some jam and a pie so your parents wouldn’t chide you for eating them all, and then go pick some more from the three trees in your backyard. You’d sit outside, enjoying the warmth of the sun while you read or, if you couldn’t be asked, while you listened to the bustle of the old and worn-down house next door being renovated. You’re surprised someone had the courage to buy it and give it a new life, but you assume that’s the kind of courage that comes with having time and money.
Yesterday night, you’d heard a little girl playing outside until her mom called her in saying it was time to go, so you made up a story of your neighbors being newlyweds that had decided they’d had enough of the city and wanted to raise their daughter in a calmer town far from busy streets and loud honks. You could bring them some cherries, maybe in jam or pie form, as a housewarming gift.
Unfortunately, the day passed and you were too busy doing nothing to actually get around to baking, so you decided to do nothing some more and then go to bed, needing rest before your big job hunt.
You’d gravely overestimated the amount of job opportunities in your small hometown, only receiving apologetic looks from the store owners as they tell you they don’t need any help, or worse, already have someone. Damn those 16-year-olds who only get summer jobs so they can blow their whole pay in a couple weeks before school starts again. You, on the other hand, need that money for important things, like sipping on a cocktail at a bar with a seaview.
The local hardware store next to the train station is your saving grace. It looks quite small from the outside, but once you step inside, rows of lamps and mirrors in all shapes and sizes along with all kinds of household needs welcome you, followed by a section for gardening and pet caretaking. The basement is where all the paints and brushes were, as well as the more technical (technical to you, at least) products, like bolts and tools or kitchen and bathroom appliances.
A lot of people undertake renovations in their homes during their free time in the summer, so it’s important for the store to have their experts helping out customers in their dedicated aisles rather than working behind the till and restocking the shelves, which is what you will be doing for the next two months. The pay is slightly above minimum wage and with twenty-one hours of work a week, you’ll earn more than enough to enjoy your vacation. You start tomorrow.
Your co-workers are happy to welcome a new face into their team. They’re nice even if they have the tendency to drone on about different types of tools and the importance of choosing the right brush for the surface you’re painting, which you don’t particularly care about, but you think you might as well learn as much as you can during your time here; it might always come in handy later.
As you expected, it isn’t the most stimulating job ever, but you aren’t bored out of your mind either. You make small talk with customers as they explain their purchases, some more defensively than others, even if you didn’t ask. You make sure to restock the shelves correctly and sometimes ask for help when you feel your arms giving out after hours of carrying heavy stuff. When no one’s in, you like to rearrange the cute bathroom decorations so that they make a little rainbow of toothbrush and soap holders.
You were daydreaming about what you would do with your friends in Mexico and all the cherries you could eat there when a man so handsome you thought he was a part of your dream walks in. He doesn’t notice (or maybe he just ignores it, you’re not sure) your gawking and smiles at you, saying “hello” before turning his attention to the map which details where everything is stored at the entrance of the shop. You manage a small “h-hello” back that probably doesn’t even reach his ears, and you curse yourself for doing a poor job of greeting a customer just because said customer looks like he’s been pushed from the heavens above onto this unworthy earth by the other angels who were jealous of his beauty.
You stay put behind the counter the whole time he’s there to avoid the potential embarrassment of running into him in a random aisle and making a fool of yourself. There isn’t much to do anyway, so you rearrange the organic protein bars and chewing-gum at the counter and count all the money in the cash register to distract yourself. He doesn’t spend a very long time browsing and after twenty minutes, you see him approach with a cart full of the biggest cans of paint the store offers. It’s mostly white paint, but there are some browns and grays, and one of pink as well.
You thank God for those twenty minutes because they allowed you to get a hold of yourself so that you didn’t gape at him like a dead fish instead of scanning his articles, which is what you are very professionally and expertly doing. “That’s a lot of paint,” you comment lightheartedly, partly just to prove to yourself that you can also speak in front of this man.
“I know,” he chuckles, and it seems unfair that his voice should be just as attractive as his face. “The previous owners of the house I just bought had terrible taste in wallpaper and wall colors, so I have to repaint basically the whole house. Everything has to go, really. The floors, the furniture, the lights.”
“Sounds like you’re going to have a busy summer. That’ll be $132.76, please.”
“I’ll pay by card,” he says as he brings his wallet out from his back pocket and inserts his card into the reader, which allows you to look freely at his tanned arms and the veins that protrude here and there. He can’t be older than thirty, so there’s probably not that much of an age difference between the two of you, but damn does he look more mature in the sexiest way possible than all of the male college students you’re used to seeing on a daily basis. If anything, he reminds you of the hot young Linguistics professor your whole department likes to drool over.
The beep of the payment being accepted snaps you out of your daze. “And yeah, it’ll sure be a busy summer. I’ll need a lot of stuff from here, so you might have to get used to seeing me around,” he says with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. There’s no way this walking Greek god of a man is actually flirting with you, but the glint in his eyes tells you it wasn’t just an off-hand comment.
“I could get used to that,” you surprise yourself by replying confidently, your smile mirroring his as pretty dimples appear on each side of his face.
You hand him the receipt and notice his eyes flickering down to your name tag before trapping yours in his gaze once again. You don’t think you ever want to look away. “I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he says and walks out with his cart and his tons of paint before you can say anything, lest ask his name, except for “see you.”
You take a deep breath in and another out when he’s out of sight, trying to calm your racing heart. You can’t wait to rave to the girls’ group chat about this, but one of your coworkers calls you for help and you have to put the handsome stranger to the back of your mind for a while.
—
That weekend, your parents ask you to do something about the cherries slowly starting to spoil in the fridge, so you put on your headphones and listen to an audiobook for entertainment, then get to pitting. It feels wrong to listen to The Kiss Quotient and its many smut scenes when your parents are coming and going out of the room, but what they don’t know won’t kill them; you just try to keep your reactions to a minimum during the extra spicy scenes.
Pitting cherries is an arduous task that always takes longer than you think it will, but you never complain about it. You’ve found the perfect technique of cutting them in half around the pit, turning the small fruit without squeezing it, extracting the stone and making sure it doesn’t get confused and end up in the bowl with the pitted cherries, all without tiring your wrists after ten minutes. A surprise pit in a cherry pie can add to the charm of a homemade dessert, but you’d rather not have to spit out five of them while trying to eat one slice.
You prepare a crumbly dough to make two classic American-style pies and fill four jars with cherry jam that you cook while the doughs rest. It’s almost offensive how small the cherries become as they cook, the amount that fills those four jars having filled eight before, but you decide there’s no reason to take it personally since the cherries don’t do it on purpose, and put the jars away to cool down. You roll out the first rested dough and despair for a bit when it keeps on falling apart, but it just makes it more satisfying once you have it perfectly thinly rolled out and covering the tin. The second one is a bit nicer to you and you only have to try rolling it out twice.
Two hours later, as the sun finally starts to relent and a cooler breeze flows through the air, the pies are all baked, cooled and ready to be eaten. You leave one for you and your parents to enjoy later, then head over to the next house to greet your new neighbors with the other pie. You knock and wait for a good thirty seconds before getting any sort of response, making you think no one’s in.
“Y/N?” a semi-familiar voice calls out, and your head whips in its direction. If this were a cartoon or a 2012 teen show, you’d probably drop the pie tin, but thankfully, your hands aren’t that sweaty, and the shock of the man from the other day at the store being your neighbor isn’t that great, because of course, of course he’s your neighbor. You’re Y/N, after all; the almighty gods above would never let you have a boring, uneventful summer. Of course the hot new man in town is your neighbor.
“Oh! Hi! Guess we’re neighbors. Ha,” you say with a clumsy smile, holding the tin over your forearm as your other hand shields your eyes from the sunlight so you can look at him without squinting your eyes.
“Neighbors?” he repeats as he joins you on the front porch, taking off his gloves dirtied by the mud and using the back of his hand to wipe off some sweat from his forehead. The sweat makes his hair stick to his face and there are small beads of it falling from his hairline down onto his white t-shirt. You detect the slightest of stubbles on his chin and upper lip, probably from not having shaved for just a day or two. He’s even tanner than when you saw him a few days ago, and his thick eyebrows form a straight line as he frowns in what you guess is tiredness and perhaps confusion from seeing you in regular clothes and holding a pie tin on his porch. For a second, you’re scared he might think you’re some kind of stalker, but you nod and tilt your head towards your house.
“Yep. That one just over there behind you.”
He turns his upper body to take a look at your house and nods slowly as he turns back around, gaze finding yours again like the other day at the store. You have no idea who this man is - hell, you don’t even know his name - but good lord are you attracted to him, especially when he gives you that unreadable smile that shows off his dimples.
“Huh. What a coincidence,” he says, and that could mean anything in the world, but you hope he means it in a good way. “I’m Sunghoon, by the way.” he adds, extending his hand for you to take, which you do, and the simple action of shaking his hand without eye contact ever breaking is enough to send shivers down your spine. Hopefully, this goes unnoticed by this Sunghoon.
A walking wet dream. That’s what this man is. He’s walked right out of your deepest Wattpad-induced fantasies and into the house next door. Probably doesn’t help that you’d been listening to literary porn just fifteen minutes prior.
“Is that pie?” he asks as he releases your hand.
“It is, cherry pie I made myself with cherries from our backyard. A housewarming gift, if you will. Here,” you reply, offering him the tin.
He takes it from your hands, the tips of his fingers slightly grazing yours, on purpose or not, you’re not sure. He lifts some of the aluminum covering the pie and peeks underneath, then hums appreciatively. “Thanks, it looks really good. I’ve been living off of ready-meals and casseroles from the neighbors, so this’ll be really nice.”
“Well we’ve got tons of cherries, so feel free to ask whenever you want some,” you offer, and he nods. A small silence settles between the two of you and you’re about to excuse yourself so it doesn’t get awkward when he invites you in, asking if you’d like to have a piece with him.
“If you want to, I mean. I was gonna take a break anyway,” he says somewhat coyly, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. You’re surprised to see him being anything else other than confident and self-assured, but it only makes him look cuter in your eyes.
“Sure,” you accept with a smile, letting him lead you inside the house.
“Sorry, it smells like paint all over the house. That’s why I was outside, doing some gardening while I aired the house out,” he explains. “Let me just get some plates and a knife out. And something for us to drink. Do you want to drink something? I’ve got water, or some iced tea or lemonade. The grandma across the street made some for me,” he says all at once, and you suppress a giggle at his sudden nervous behavior.
“Sunghoon?”
“Yeah?” he responds almost immediately, turning to you just as you both reach the kitchen.
“Just water is fine.”
A shy smile makes his dimples appear once again as he nods. “Okay, sounds good.” You help him carry everything to the back porch and set down the glasses and a jug of water on a table with two chairs around it.
“The porches are the only parts I won’t have to fix up too much, for some reason.”
“You’re going to redo the whole house yourself?” you ask, surprised, as you pour two glasses of water and he serves you a slice of cherry pie (“there might be some stray cherry pits, so be careful,” you warn as he sets a slice on his plate).
“A lot of it, yeah, but I’ve also got some people to help out. My dad’s a carpenter so I know my way around these things, but I also know it’s better and faster to have more than one man on the job, so some guys he works with come a couple times a week.”
“Yeah, with the state this house is in, you’d need more than a summer if you did everything yourself,” you comment, and he chuckles, agreeing. “My friends and I used to make stories about how this place is haunted, you know,” you say jokingly.
“Please don’t jinx my house from the get-go,” he says, making you laugh.
“Sorry, sorry. It’ll be nice seeing it all fixed-up, actually.”
“Have you lived here long?” he asks, looking at you thoughtfully as he takes another bite of the pie. “This is really good, by the way.”
“Thanks. And yeah, my whole life. I go away when semester starts but come back for the holidays and the summer.”
“So you're a student?”
“Yeah, just at the state university a few hours away. Not too far away that it’s a hassle traveling back, but not too close that I go home every weekend. What about you, what do you do?”
You wait for his answer while he swallows his mouthful and take another bite yourself. “I teach,” he starts as he dabs the corners of his lips with a napkin. “Fifth graders, on the other side of town. I used to live in a small apartment near the school I work at but it’s nicer, having more space. I saved enough money to buy this house and fix it up, so here I am now,” he says, gesturing to the house and the garden with his arms.
You notice his use of the first person pronoun when he talks about where he used to live and his house now, which makes you wonder if it’s just him, even though you were sure you heard a woman and a young girl’s voices the other day. Surely, if he wasn’t single, he wouldn’t have invited you in or given you flirtatious looks, right? Or were you reading totally wrong into this and he was just an exceptionally friendly person?
You put these questions to the side and continue chatting with Sunghoon, letting the subject of his marital status come up on its own during your conversation. And indeed, you get your answer when he tells you about the different parts of the house he plans on having, one of them being a bedroom for his daughter.
“Oh, so you have a daughter? How old is she?” you ask as you take a sip of water, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. Considering his age, you expect that his child will be one, two years old max, so his answer makes you almost choke on your drink.
“She’s turning eight this summer.”
“Eight?” you repeat as you set your glass down, looking at him wide-eyed. So much for nonchalance. “But you’re so-”
“Young? Yeah, I know,” he interrupts with a knowing smile, probably used to this kind of reaction. “I’m 26,” he adds, then watches as you do the simple math in your head. When you turn to him with a surprised look, he answers your question before you’ve even asked it. “Yep, I had her when I was 18.”
“Wow,” is all you can say. “Can I ask what happened?”
“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing extraordinary or anything. I was in my last year of high school, and I got my girlfriend at the time pregnant. We’d only been dating four months but her parents wouldn’t let her get an abortion. They’re really religious. They took care of our baby, with the help of my parents, while I went to community college and she retook senior year since she had to drop out halfway through the year. No, we’re not together anymore, if you’re wondering,” he says, catching you off guard, as if he’d read your thoughts.
He chuckles before sighing and continues. “If none of this had happened, we’d probably have broken up before going off to college and proceeded to forget about each other. We started out living with her parents, then got that small apartment I told you about when she found a job. We’re not on bad terms by any means, but we’ve just not been in love since Chaeryeong turned 2, probably. We’ve been more roommates than a couple for the past six years. And you know, we kept on living together for Chaer mainly, but she’s found a new boyfriend and I wanted to have my own place. Which has led me here.”
You nod slowly, letting the whole story sink in. “You’re both handling this situation really maturely, it sounds like. I’ve heard of so many teenage parents fighting all the time and not taking care of their kids properly.”
“She’s already got a weird parental situation, it’s the least we can do for her to behave like adults, you know.”
“Right, of course,” you say, nodding again. Your hot new neighbor was actually a DILF, you realized a bit inappropriately, perhaps. Cherry on top.
He tells you a bit more about his daughter and you keep talking until your dad calls you, asking you why you’re not home at dinner time, and you only notice then how long you’ve been sitting there with Sunghoon, just talking. You tell him you feel bad for taking up so much of his time but he shakes your apologies off.
“It was my pleasure, really. And thanks again for the pie, I think Chaer will love it.”
He walks you to the front door and calls out your name after you’ve waved goodbye and started walking. You didn’t know you had been expecting him to do anything until you heard the hopeful tone in your own voice. “Yeah?”
“You any good with kids?” he asks, leaning against the doorway with crossed arms and a smirk that makes your heart flutter.
Although you’ve only got one older brother, you have younger cousins as well as older ones that have babies of their own, so you’re not a complete stranger to kids, but more importantly, you like them. They have the world to learn, but they say surprisingly smart things and have really cute faces.
“I’d say that I am, yeah,” you reply, a smile growing on your face, mirroring his expression.
“Good,” he says, and pauses a second for good measure. “I’ll see you later.”
“See you later, Sunghoon,” you say as you turn back and head to your house, letting him enjoy the view of you walking away.
On the short way home, you realize that you completely have the hots for your neighbor, although you probably knew that before. Is it twisted that you like him more now that you know he’s got a kid? Probably a little bit, but you’re not going to fight it. He’s single, after all. And not even thirty. A five-year gap isn’t unheard of.
Your parents ask you where you’ve been as you set the table and get ready for dinner. “Just over at our new neighbor’s house to give him some pie and say hi,” you say as you toss the salad in its bowl, spreading the dressing evenly.
“Ooh, the neighbor,” your mother echoes knowingly, wiggling her eyebrows, and steals a leaf of lettuce when it falls from the bowl because of your vigorous tossing. “We should have him over at some point, welcome him into the neighborhood. I’ve seen him a bit, you know. Out painting on his front porch or when he was in his garden the same time as me. He’s a very attractive young man,” she says, lowering her voice so your dad doesn’t hear even though he’s outside grilling the meat. “Do you know how old he is? Looks a bit young for a homeowner to me, but who knows what young people are up to these days.
“He’s twenty-six, and he’s saved a lot of money. Plus, I don’t think that house was very expensive. From what he’s told me, the renovations will basically cost as much as the house itself. He’s also got a kid.”
“Aw, must be a cute baby,” she says as your father walks in, carrying a tray of steaming barbecued steaks and potatoes.
“She’s eight,” you say bluntly, causing them both to look at you with wide eyes.
“Oh, right, then. Happens,” your mother says, bringing her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip from it. “Is he still with the mother?”
“They broke up a while ago, but they’re on good terms,” you say, and your mom nods slowly at the information.
“So, he’s single, huh?” she says, trying to hide her smile, earning herself a groan from your dad and a chuckle from you.
“C’mon, mom!”
“What? You can’t deny that he’s attractive, and he’s single. Plus, you two must get along well if you spent a couple hours talking. Sure, he’s got a kid, but you love those, don’t you?”
“Mom, you of all people would know kids aren’t pets. Dating someone with an eight-year-old isn’t the same as dating someone with a cat.
“No one’s asking you to be that girl’s mom,” she says, dishing out some meat for the three of you. “I’d go get that man, if I were you.”
Your dad shakes his head and you eat your food as you listen to them bickering with a smile. You think about what your mother said - should you go and get Sunghoon? Your heart says yes, but your brain is a bit more reluctant. Another part of your body, lower down there, is screaming ‘yes’ at you.
He does live right by, after all.
That night, you FaceTime your roommate and best friend from college and bring her up to date about ‘the hot man from the store the other day.’ She paints her toenails but listens intently as she always does when you talk about boys, humming and chuckling here and there.
“God, Y/N, I didn’t know you had daddy issues, of all things.”
You gasp fake-dramatically. “Excuse me, I do not! I was attracted to him before I knew he was a dad, I’ll let you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let me know when you guys actually hook up, I’m curious whether older men are actually better,” she says, making you scoff.
“I hope he is. I’m very much tired of those boys that don’t know where the clit is and use too much tongue.”
“You know, when I complain to my mom about guys, she always tells me to wait it out a few years. She says they get more mature and, well, she didn’t say that outright, but she very heavily implied that the sex is much, much better. Kinda gross hearing it from her, but it’s good information.”
You hum. “Well, he’s not that much older… But let’s hope that it still makes a difference,” you say, and then move on to another topic.
—
One thing that eating cherries has taught you is that if you want to enjoy eating the sweet flesh, you’ll need to deal with the pit as well. Ever the grand philosopher, you realized soon enough that this was applicable to real life and not just your favorite fruit. Wanna get a good grade on your test? Gotta study for it. Wanna go on holiday to Mexico? Gotta find a summer job and earn money.
Wanna make your way to Sunghoon’s bed? Gotta seduce him.
Over the following days, you stand behind the counter at the hardware store, elbow perched on the hard surface, head resting on your palm and vision fuzzy as you daydream about your next encounter with Sunghoon. More often than not, a customer will clear their throat to awkwardly let you know of their presence and you’ll have to exchange your imagined dialogue with Sunghoon for a quick apology and some pleasantries; more often than not, a coworker will call out your name for some help just as you get to the juicy part of your reverie. In those moments, you always feel like you’ve been caught red-handed watching softcore porn, even if no one knows the last thing about what goes on in your head, nor do they care.
Much like the first time he walked into the store, when he does again on a Thursday morning, you think your daydreams have just gone too far and you’re now hallucinating. But, lo and behold, this is the true Park Sunghoon in the flesh, and he smiles and waves at you as he strides in before disappearing behind one of the many aisles.
You spend the next fifteen minutes going over witty conversation starters that will surely make him fall for you, only for you to stutter out a “h-hi, Sunghoon,” when he finally reaches the counter.
“Fancy seeing you here,” he jokes, and you laugh a bit too hard for a comment that isn’t that funny.
“How are the renovations going?” you ask as you scan his articles - some more paint and brushes, lots of tile glue, a bunch of nails and two different sizes of turnscrews. He frowns in concentration at the snacks next to the counter until he caves in and gets a chocolate protein bar that’s more sugar than protein.
“Pretty okay,” he starts. “I’m in a bit of a rush, cause Chaer is already coming in two weeks and I need to have finished at least the interior by that time. My dad’s friends helped me get the roof done, so that’s good, but now they’re all busy with other sites so it's just me. Right now I’m redoing the tiles in the bathrooms. You need so much damn glue,” he says with a chuckle.
You think for a second, then timidly offer, “I could help out, you know. If you needed me to.”
He looks at you with raised eyebrows, halfway through getting his card out of his wallet. “Really?”
“I mean, I don’t have much experience with this kinda stuff, but I’ve picked up a few things here and there from working here. If it saves you time, I could do the easy things. This job isn’t particularly physically demanding so I’ve still got energy at the end of the day. That’s $78.96, please.”
A small smile appears on his face as he inserts his card into the reader. He punches in his code and then returns your gaze. “That could be nice, actually.”
And that’s how you find yourself over at Sunghoon’s house in denim shorts and your dad’s old t-shirts almost everyday for the next two weeks, helping him fix up the old two-storey home. He measures out the perfect length for wood planks or marble tiles that you assist him in fastening to the floors of different rooms and he fixes holes in walls that you paint over afterwards. Sometimes on your breaks, you share a bowl of cherries that you brought from your garden. (One morning, you tried to make cherry juice out of them, but when after almost two hours of pitting the liquid barely filled a glass, you decided that it was too much effort and that you’d keep on just eating them and baking the occasional pie.) You asked him to tell you what each of the rooms upstairs would be and you realized that the window of his room faced yours directly. The blinds were down as they had always been, so you hadn’t known what the room would be.
“I’ve been sleeping on the couch since I haven’t gotten around to fixing up this room yet. Guess I should get to it, though,” he says, giving you a look that blurs the meaning of his words so that you’re not sure what he’s implying, which happens a bit too often with Sunghoon.
And you’d think that spending the better part of two weeks with the current man of your dreams would be amazing, right?
Wrong. It’s unbearable.
Maybe that’s exaggerating it - it’s mostly fun, and sometimes unbearable. Usually, you’re an avid fan of sexual tension, especially with attractive men like Sunghoon. Lingering gazes, eye contacts when there shouldn’t be any, remarks with a deeper meaning that they let on, barely-there touches on the back of your hand or on your waist that manage to take your breath away. These are all very fine things that keep your heart bouncing and a blush on your cheeks, but they are supposed to amount to something more in the end. Maybe you’re impatient, but after two weeks of sending sex through your eyes to Sunghoon, you get the feeling that he doesn’t reciprocate your desire. One afternoon, you’d made sure to go and sunbathe in your bikini at the exact moment he was doing some work outside, and even then, he merely gave your body a one-over and disappeared a few minutes later inside his house. When he came back about ten minutes later, he could still barely look at you.
At the same time, there’s no way he doesn’t know what he’s doing when he stands close behind you, letting you feel the warmth of his chest against your back, big, rough hands enveloping yours as he demonstrates how to cut a plank of wood with the machine. There’s no way the way he smirks when the action turns you into a stammering mess is innocent, either.
Yet nothing happens. The tension is thick enough to be cut with a knife, but maybe Sunghoon hasn’t bought cutlery yet. The air is already heavy from the heat and the relentlessness of the sun, but this thing between you and him makes it almost suffocating, in somehow the best yet worst way possible. You’re this close to simply throwing your naked body at him, and it doesn’t help that you see his flexing, working muscles and beads of sweat on his hairline everyday. On the days he wears shorts, which is most days, all you can think of is getting off on his thick thighs, of his hands holding you tightly by the waist, of the way he’d look at you, eyes clouded over, of the words he’d whisper in your-
Your phone buzzes, interrupting you in your horny downward spiral. It’s your dear mother telling you to come home for dinner. As you pick up your phone, a second buzz. Ask Sunghoon if he wants to eat with us.
You find him in his bedroom, adding the last touches to the walls. “I think I’ll be able to sleep here starting tomorrow night. I just need to go buy a bed,” he says when he sees your figure standing in the doorway.
“We can go together if you want,” you blurt before you can stop yourself. Hoping it’ll make you seem less weird, you add, “I’ve got really good taste in furniture.”
“Is that so?” he questions, turning to you with a smile. “I’d appreciate the second pair of eyes, actually. There’s a lot of things I need to get.”
“Yeah, I didn’t wanna comment on it, but I think you’ll end up needing more than a couch, a plastic dining table and two chairs,” you tease, making him roll his eyes lightheartedly. “We can go to that huge second-hand store they have just outside of town. You’ll be surprised how good - and cheap - the furniture is there.”
“Sounds good,” he nods, and checks his watch. “Are you going home?”
“I am. My mom’s invited you over for dinner, if you’d like,” you say, tilting your head at him.
He raises his eyebrows in delighted surprise. “I’d love to. Just need to shower first.”
“That’s fine. I’ll go home, just come over whenever you’re ready.” You exchange quick see you laters and you head home, taking a shower yourself and making sure to use your best-smelling body lotion.
Sunghoon arrives half an hour later with a bouquet of roses in his hands and an award-winning smile on his face. You let him in and he greets your parents, offering your mother the bouquet. “Sorry I took so much time getting here, I wanted to pick these out as a thank you.”
You can tell your mother is pleased to the heavens as she waves him off, leading him inside your house. “That’s awfully nice of you, Mr Park-”
“Call me Sunghoon, please,” he says with a warm smile.
“Right, Sunghoon. And no worries, you’re just on time. Please, sit.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
“Oh, no, you’re working all day fixing up that house, just sit and relax. We’re very happy to have you over, aren’t we?” your mother says, sending a very obvious smile your way, which makes you furrow your eyebrows and shake your head lightly at her, silently telling her to shut up. Sunghoon chuckles at the exchange but says nothing and you want to bury yourself and your mother ten feet underground.
Sunghoon sits across from you at the dinner table, which allows you to stare unabashedly at him as he works his charm on your parents. He’s the neighbor, so technically, he’s not a boyfriend you brought home to meet them, but still, you can’t help but compare him to those few boys that you did bring home. None of them were a disaster, but none of them went as smoothly as this, either. There were always some awkward silences and dry chuckles with your past boyfriends, but Sunghoon clearly knows how to make parents happy. Maybe because he lived with his ex’s parents for so long, or maybe because he’s a parent himself. Either way, it only adds to your desire to take all of his clothes and let him rail you into next week. Too bad he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, you remind yourself with an audible sigh, which makes him look curiously at you, but you brush it off with a smile.
You watch as he accepts a beer, compliments the food and the house, talks football with your dad, accepts another beer, and shares teaching anecdotes with your mom, who herself is an elementary school teacher. You jump in every now and then when you have something witty to add or someone asks your opinion on something, but most of the time, you sit back and enjoy, happy that everything is going well.
You bring out your infamous cherry pie that you’d baked the previous day along with some vanilla ice cream for dessert, and smile when Sunghoon tells you how much he’d been waiting to have some of it again, trying not to blush as his gaze stays focused on yours for a second too long. Thankfully, your parents don’t notice, too busy cutting themselves a slice.
He stays for another hour or so, until the sun has set and the streetlamps and the moonlight are the only things keeping the world visible. Your mom forces him to accept tupperwares full of leftovers from the night and makes him promise to come back with his daughter. Sneakily, she tells you to help him carry the tupperwares home even though he’s more than able to do it himself, then hugs him goodbye, hurrying you out of the door.
Sunghoon hasn’t yet changed the lightbulbs to more efficient ones, so his kitchen bathes in the faint glow of the overhead lighting as you put away the leftovers in his fridge. He stands a bit to your right close behind you, closer than needed to simply hand you the tupperwares he was holding. When everything is stored, you turn around, but you’re trapped between his body and his arm that holds the fridge door open. With his free hand, he takes you by the waist and pulls you gently towards him. “Careful,” he says so quietly, it’s almost a whisper, and closes the fridge door behind you.
He’s never been this forward with you, and even though you’ve fantasized many times about this exact moment, now that it’s really happening, you don’t know what to do except to search for an explanation in his eyes. His eyes that are looking right into yours and are a bit clouded over, from the alcohol or the proximity between the two of you or both, you don’t know, but that also have the twinkle of a smile in them.
His lips are close enough to kiss, you think, and as if on cue, his gaze drifts down to your slightly parted lips. “You’re very pretty, Y/N,” he says, before sealing your lips with his own. You respond immediately to his kiss - you’ve thought too much about it to stand there and do nothing - but it’s all so slow and so soft that you’re not sure if it’s actually happening, so dreamlike it all feels.
You’re called back to reality when his other hand finds your waist, your own hands coming up to his shoulders before one of them snakes its way to the nape of his neck, tugging lightly at his hair. This seems to change something in Sunghoon, who all of a sudden tightens his hold on your waist, his arms wrapping around it to bring you closer to him. His kiss gets faster and deeper too, and, to your surprise but not your distaste, a bit desperate. You’re happy if you have on him half of the power he has on you. You taste sweet vanilla ice cream and tangy beer on his tongue, and it’s not at all unpleasant. It makes you want to eat cherries together so you can then taste them in his kiss.
A lustful sigh escapes your lips and then the warmth disappears all at once. Sunghoon looks at you like you just woke him up from a deep slumber and takes a step back away from you. You call out for him worriedly and the sound of his name seems to make him think he did something terribly wrong.
“I-I’m sorry, Y/N, I don’t know what came over me. We shouldn’t do this, it’s not- I shouldn’t have done that,” he sighs, looking defeatedly at the ground.
“Why?” you ask quietly, almost inaudible.
“You should go home,” he snaps, then closes his eyes as if in pain, cringing at his harsh tone. “I’m sorry. I think you should go home, it’s getting late,” he repeats, softer this time, but the words still sting.
“O-okay,” you say to the floor, already feeling tears well up in your eyes. You feel like you just got rejected by your high school crush, and the humiliation makes you want to crawl into a hole and die.
Sunghoon sighs again. “I’ll let you know tomorrow about the furniture shopping, yeah? Chaeryeong is coming in the morning so we can go with her.”
“O-okay,” you repeat, surprised he still wants to do that with you. “Good night, Sunghoon,” you say without looking at him and scurry out of his house.
“Good night, Y/N,” Sunghoon answers to the emptiness after you’ve left, touching his lips with the tips of his fingers and feeling the ghost of your kiss there.
—
Truth be told, you haven’t always loved cherries. Because of a heinous lie your older brother had made you believe when you were just six years old, you hadn’t eaten cherries for two summers in a row. It was the summer your parents had finally allowed you to eat cherries as they came from the trees in your backyard - beforehand, they’d been too scared that you’d choke on the pit or swallow it unknowingly, and had always prepared purées or other forms that cherries can take for you to eat, so to be finally handed the small fruit and told “go ahead, try it,” felt like an honor.
A simple “don’t forget to spit out the pit” from your mother had sufficed for you to be careful, and yet, your brother had thought a fear tactic would be more effective. “If you swallow it, a tree will grow inside your belly and make you puke out cherries,” he’d lied when it was just the two of you at the outdoor table.
“Really?” you asked him in disbelief, horror written all over your face as you looked at the seemingly harmless yet deadly fruit in your hand. You’d already eaten two and were in the middle of eating a third; your brother nodding ‘yes’ in response was all it took for you to spit out the cherry furiously and immediately start sobbing, afraid you’d swallowed one even though all three pits were right there on the table, a guarantee that no unwanted flora would grow inside of you.
Your mother rushed outside at the sound of your wailing and quickly put two and two together when she saw your brother laughing uncontrollably while you hid your face in your hands, desolately imagining your future as a walking cherry tree. She held you tight in her arms as she told your brother off and reassured you that he was just playing a stupid prank on you. Still, the simple thought of swallowing a pit had terrified you and you were unable to eat cherries for the remainder of the summer and the one after that.
This is the story you tell Chaeryeong and her dad as the three of you sit outside together, making them laugh - although, a few minutes later, when Sunghoon is gone to the bathroom away, Chaer leans over the table and whispers, “It’s not true, is it?” so you reassure her that you’ve eaten cherries your whole life and have never had one single root take life in your tummy.
It’s been a bit over a week after you shared that kiss in his kitchen, and the awkward atmosphere is just starting to fade. You’re glad he didn’t ignore you after that night, even if pretending nothing happened when both of you are very aware that something did happen is only the slightly better alternative. It’s a refreshing change from boys that sleep with you and then act like you don’t exist, for sure.
The kiss hasn’t done anything to burst the tension; if anything, it’s made it even more electric. You catch him looking at your lips more than once and you wonder why he still acts the same way as before when he’s made it very clear he didn’t think kissing you was a good idea. Catching him shirtless one night in his bedroom doesn’t help, and neither does him catching you staring at him - you’d quickly shut the curtains, but it was too late, and he’d seen you ogling his toned chest and abs.
At least, the fact that Chaeryeong is here forces a bubbly atmosphere upon you, and you hope you’re not crazy when you notice him fondly looking at the both of you interacting. Chaer is an outgoing little girl and seems to have liked you as soon as you complimented the toy puppy in her hand, saying you used to have the same and it was your favorite.
The day you went food shopping was practically hell to get through. One evening, you were holding onto Sunghoon for dear life, finally kissing him, and the next afternoon, you were browsing through the endless aisles of your local IKEA, holding his daughter’s hand and pretending like you hadn’t kissed her daddy.
When it got to the bedroom part of the store, you and Chaer decided to try all the mattresses and find the most comfortable one. You usually were never one for seating and laying on random beds in stores, but there was a kid with you, so you were sure it’d be fine. When you found the one you liked most, you looked up at Sunghoon from your position and said, “This one’s pretty good, Sunghoon.” His immediately reddening cheeks told you everything you needed to know and you quickly sat up, clearing your throat. He tested the mattress by pushing his palm against it and muttered a “yeah, it’s pretty good” before scribbling down the number of the mattress onto the small sheet of paper customers use to remember which products they wanted.
Of course, now that Chaer is with him and most of the work in the house is done, save for some minor things that Sunghoon can finish up on his own, you spend a lot less time together. You hate that you miss him so much. You miss the way he makes you feel, like your whole body is on fire with just one look or one touch, the way his stupid jokes make you laugh or how endeared he looks when he talks about his daughter. Seeing him with her only adds to your stupid crush - he’s doting, protective and caring, makes sure she has everything to be happy and manages to treat her at once like the kid that she is but also like a human that has opinions and feelings. He’s a really good dad, and that does nothing whatsoever to stop your DILF fantasies, although now, it’s really Sunghoon that you want, and the fact that he’s a dad isn’t a dealbreaker, it just makes him that much better.
You hate that you miss him, and yet being with him is somehow worse, because you can’t do any of the things you want to do. You fall asleep one two many nights dreaming about his lips and how nice it’d be to feel them again - on your lips, on your neck, everywhere. You want to feel him everywhere, and this longing lust is starting to drive you crazy. You’d never wanted anyone this much.
He invites you over for dinner one night, and the look he gives you when he opens the door sends a shiver right down your spine. “Hi, Y/N.”
“Hi, Sunghoon.”
He leads you into the kitchen with a hand on your waist, even though you’ve been in his house many times before and need no assistance getting there. A small, horny voice at the back of your head tells you that tonight may be the night, but you quickly shut it down, not wanting to get your hopes up all on your own.
Sunghoon serves you a glass of red wine, and you ask him what the occasion is. “Just to celebrate the house being almost done,” he answers with a smile.
Dinner would have gone as usual if Sunghoon wasn’t practically staring you down the whole time, eyes full of something you can’t quite put your finger on and that drives you crazy. His gaze lingers on you every time you speak, and he punctuates the syllables of your name like he’s trying to get a feel for them on his tongue.
Your heart is pounding in your chest when the clock strikes nine p.m. and it’s time for Chaeryeong to go to bed - you don’t know if you’ll be able to handle being alone with Sunghoon, and you might have to make a run for it, Cinderella-style.
Chaer goes to the bathroom to wash up and change into her pajamas, and when she comes back, she asks - no, demands - that you’re the one who tucks her in, and who are you to say no to the cutest little girl on Earth? She holds you by the pinky as she drags you up the stairs to her room then buries herself in her covers, tapping on the bed next to her body for you to sit there. “Okay, now we can talk without Dad around,” she says all business-like.
She tells you about the boys at her school and the birthday party she went to last week and the latest drama with her friends. The both of you are too busy chatting and giggling to hear footsteps coming up the stairs and stopping at her door, hiding behind the wall. After ten minutes, she yawns loudly and says, “Can you call Dad? I think he’ll be sad if he doesn’t wish me good night.”
“Of course,” you reply and kiss her on the forehead, wishing her a good night yourself. You’re only half-surprised to find Sunghoon at the doorway, waiting for his cue.
“Wait up for me, yeah? I’ll just be a minute,” he says, that smile still on his lips, that smile that keeps you hoping.
“Okay,” you whisper, and head downstairs, nervously taking a sip from your wine glass as you wait for him on the living room couch.
He is indeed back in a very short time, too short a time for your nerves to settle, so when he sits down close to you on the couch, body turned towards yours, you can feel your heart in your throat. He traces the rim of his glass with the tip of his pointer finger and you both watch the slow movement for a bit, a heavy silence hanging over both of your heads. You wait for him to talk because you’re too scared of what you might say if you start the conversation.
“Y/N, I’ve been thinking,” he starts shakily, “about um, our kiss, the other day-”
“Oh, we don’t need to talk about that,” you quickly interrupt, waving your hand in dismissal at him. “You made it clear you didn’t like it-”
“No, that’s the thing-”
“And that you thought it was a bad idea-”
“No, just listen-”
“So let’s just forget about it, and-”
“Y/N,” Sunghoon says in a stern voice, raising his tone just enough to make you stop in your rambling.
“Yeah?” you look up at him, eyes wide open. Expecting, as always.
“I haven’t once stopped thinking about that kiss,” he says, sounding out-of-breath. “I handled it awfully, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like I didn’t like it, because, God, I liked it. A lot,” he chuckles. “Maybe even too much.”
There they are, the words you’ve been dying to hear. Yet all you can say is a stupid “Oh.”
“I just… I was tipsy, and Chaeryeong was coming the next morning, and I panicked. I didn’t know what to do for the rest of the week, and you didn’t say anything, so I didn’t, either. But I can’t pretend like it isn’t there.”
“Like what isn’t there?” you echo, voice almost low as a whisper.
“You know… this,” he replies, voice as low as yours. Slowly, one of his hands comes up to trace your jawline. You release a shaky breath as you set your wine glass on the coffee table and rest your hand on his knee.
“Are you sure about this? ‘Cause if you tell me that you want me… then I’ll be all yours, Sunghoon,” you murmur, hands slowly sliding up his thigh. He takes you by the wrist and puts your hand right on top of his already growing erection, letting you know exactly how he feels about you.
“God, can’t you see what you do to me? I want you so bad, Y/N,” he almost growls, and with that, his lips are on yours, trapping you into a kiss far hungrier and more ferocious than the previous kiss, your mutual intentions finally laid out in front of you for you both to see.
Sunghoon wastes no time as he grabs you by the waist and brings you to his lap, sitting you on top of his crotch so that you can feel his hardening cock against your core. The kiss turns desperate in mere seconds, and you’re relieved to see that Sunghoon seems to have been waiting for this as long and with as much ardor as you have. Your hands are fisting his hair, tugging almost harshly, while his hands roam the expanse of your back until they settle on your ass, grabbing at it to press you closer to him. You can’t stop yourself from moaning into his mouth when his erection rubs over your core in just the right way, and he takes that opportunity to add tongue to the kiss, deepening it.
You start to grind yourself against him, which he helps you do by slightly rutting his hips into yours and bringing your ass closer at every movement. Quickly, you fall into a rhythm so perfect and that feels so good, you think you might explode right then and there. Forget riding his thigh, this is infinitely better.
Needing to catch your breath, you pull away from the kiss, but your lips find his jaw immediately and you start pressing wet, needy kisses there and down his neck, sucking in some spots so that light bruises appear. “Fuck, Y/N, that feels so nice,” he breathes, eyes shut closed. His scent drives you crazy, and his small praise makes you double down on your actions, almost biting the soft skin of his neck.
As you continue kissing him there, occasionally returning to his lips for more, his hands roam your thighs and then up your back, snaking themselves under your t-shirt and finding the clasp of your bra, quickly doing away with it. He pulls away just so he can help you out of your top and takes your bra off of you, hands caressing your sides as he admires your half-naked body in all its glory. You take his hands and bring them to your chest, resting your hands on top of his as you continue grinding onto him and let him play with your boobs. “You’re so fucking hot,” he practically moans, making you chuckle. You reach for the hem of his t-shirt, because it’s only fair that you get to see him too, and you bite back a moan when he uses the absence of your hands on his to pinch your nipples lightly, then takes one in his mouth, catching you off-guard. You forget all about your plan of undressing him as his tongue flicks at the perked bud, your hands finding his hair again as you moan unabashedly.
“S-Sunghoon,” you breathe, the combined feelings of his now fully hard cock pressing against your clothed but soaking cunt and of his warm mouth around your nipples really getting to your head and making you see stars, so that all you can say is his name. “Please,” you beg, you’re not sure what for. Mercy, perhaps. Or release.
“Please what, baby?” he asks, and the nickname goes straight to your core.
“I don’t- just, please, Sunghoon, please,” you say incoherently, making him chuckle.
“Okay,” he says as if he can read your mind, and you think he actually does when he lays you down on the couch, fingers finding the zipper of your shorts. He unbuttons them and slides them down your legs along with your soaked panties. He makes sure they’re fully off of your body before running his palms up both of your legs, from your ankles to your hips.
“Don’t tease, please,” you plead, too desperate for him to take his time.
“As you wish, princess,” he smirks, and brings a finger to your folds, sliding it down to gather some slick before pushing it inside your hole. Your back arches as an instant response to his touch and you let out a small whine, already craving for more. “Fuck, so wet, and all for me, yeah?” he questions, his eyes not once leaving your glistening pussy.
“Yes,” you breathe out, mind too fuzzy to produce a longer sentence.
“That’s a good girl,” he coos, and adds another finger, pushing all three of his knuckles in and massaging your sweet spot as soon as he finds it. When he’s found a rhythm for his motions, he finally looks up at you and curses himself for not having watched your face earlier. Head tilted back in pleasure, mouth agape as your breathing gets more and more irregular and eyebrows scrunched together, you look like the definition of sex, and it takes everything in Sunghoon to not start touching himself.
He forces himself to look away from you only to focus back on your pussy and notices your swollen clit that is begging for attention. He licks it tentatively, and when your back arches at the feeling of his tongue on you, he dives in completely, licking a stripe up your folds before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking at it like he did with your nipples earlier. The pace at which his fingers are pumping out of you quickens and you’re pulling so hard at his hair, you think you might rip some strands off. You feel yourself getting close, and you’re reminded of all those frustrating encounters with college boys where they stopped right before you came, so you can’t stop yourself as you desperately chant “oh my God please don’t stop please don’t stop,” not even noticing the way you’re holding his head down against your clit and bucking your hips into his face.
Your orgasm hits you like a truck - this is probably the first one you’ve received from someone other than your own hand or your vibrator in the past year and a half. It takes your breath away, and you’re left gasping for air for a good thirty seconds, your mind reeling from the intensity of such pleasure. When you calm down, you lift your head to look at Sunghoon who’s already watching you with a grin on his face, your slick coating his chin and mouth.
You plop your head back down with a groan when realization hits you. “I’m sor-”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Sunghoon commands, hands rubbing your still-trembling thighs. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he marvels, and you can’t help but giggle.
“Really?”
“Really.”
After another couple of seconds, you sit up on the couch and send Sunghoon a mischievous look. My turn, you think, and if his smile is any indicator then he seems to have understood. “Let me thank you,” you say, gesturing at him to sit up himself as you lower yourself to your knees on the couch in front of him.
You look up at him from between his thighs then unclasp his belt and undo his jeans. He lets out a shaky breath and says, “You don’t need to do this, you know-”
“Don’t be a gentleman, Sunghoon. I want to do this and I know you want it too. It’s pretty obvious,” you tease as you run your hand over his erection, watching in delight as his eyebrows furrow and his eyes close. “Now help me get these off of you.” He nods and raises his hips so you can take his jeans and underwear off, imitating his actions from before as you take your time to get them over his ankles and caressing his legs until they reach his crotch, watching as he takes his t-shirt off as well so that you can finally see him entirely. You’d caught glimpse of him shirtless before as he worked in his garden, but the sight still manages to take your breath away. Taut muscles and sun-tanned skin, laid bare right before you. This is what they mean by sculpted like a Greek god, you think.
You haven’t done anything, yet his head is already laid back against the top of the couch, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he gulps in expectation and chest rising visibly at every intake of breath. You must’ve saved a thousand souls in your previous life to be deserving of such an image.
You spit in your palm before taking him, starting out by slowly moving your hand up and down his shaft, then rubbing small circles against his tip, the small moan-like sighs that leave his lips letting you know you’re doing a good job. You gather some saliva in your mouth and spit on his length to add some lubricant and smirk when he lets out a low fuck. You bring your head closer and lick his balls, taking one at a time in your mouth and sucking very gently, making the volume of his moans increase. “Just like- fuck, just like that, Y/N.”
You then lick a long stripe up his cock and swirl your tongue around his tip when you reach it, humming at the taste of precum there. Sunghoon gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail so it doesn’t get in your way, and finally looks down at you, blown away by the beautiful sight of your flushed cheeks and your mouth around his cock. He groans when you take him deeper and unconsciously bucks his hips into your throat, making you gag around him. He loves that feeling but doesn’t want to hurt you so he grabs your face and makes you look up at him, lust and worry written all over his face as he apologizes, but you quickly stop him. “It’s okay, I like it. You can do it again,” you say, and smile before wrapping your lips around him once more.
“Fuck, are you sure?” he asks and you hum, sending vibrations all over his body.
“God, o-okay,” he says, in disbelief that you’re okay with him practically fucking your throat and even liking it. And you do like it - you love letting him use your mouth to get off, just like you had earlier with him. He must have amazing core strength because he’s able to buck his hips into your mouth rapidly as he holds your head tight in his hands. The way you keep coming back for more every time he lets you breathe is enough to drive him crazy, but after a couple minutes, he stops you from taking him in your mouth again.
“I can’t- I don’t wanna cum like this,” he breathes, looking just as fucked-out as you do.
“Where, then?” you ask, kissing him all over his thighs as he trails his fingers through your hair. “Inside?”
He groans at the offer but shakes his head, eyes shut as if trying to calm himself down. “I haven’t got any condoms.”
“I’m on the pill,” you tell him, still pressing kisses on his warm skin. You’re far too desperate to feel him inside you to let a lack of condom stop you, especially when you don’t even need one.
He lets out an umpteenth shaky breath and makes you look up at him. “Are you sure?”
“Sunghoon,” you say, looking him dead in the eyes, “I’ve never been more sure of anything.” You’re relieved when he smiles and nods, bending down to trap your lips in a heated kiss for good measure. Something about being in this position, kneeling in front of his spread thighs and having to look up at him, turns you on even more.
“Okay, then,” he says, still smiling as he pulls away, holding you gently by the chin. “I don’t think I’ll be able to last long, and I want to feel you cum around me. So, tell me, what’s your favorite position, princess?”
The question takes you aback but you answer it anyway, looking at the ground. “Reverse cowgirl…” you admit shyly, a small smile spreading on your lips.
“Reverse cowgirl, huh?” Sunghoon repeats, and you don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking. “Come here, then,” he says, and helps you up, making you turn around so your back faces him and seats you down on top of him, keeping your hips raised. He takes his cock inside his hands, pumps it a few more times before guiding it to your entrance, pressing kisses to your shoulders and nape to make you relax.
You moan at the simple feeling of his tip teasing your entrance and Sunghoon whispers “I know, baby” against your skin. “Sit down for me,” he commands gently, and you oblige, lowering your hips slowly to feel all of him stretching you out, the both of you moaning in synchronization when he bottoms out.
Sunghoon wraps an arm around your middle and pulls you onto him so that your back rests against his chest and you can let your head hang back next to his. “Let me do all the work, yeah?” he murmurs into your ear, and you hum in response. He doesn’t move for a bit, roaming his large hands all over your body until he feels your walls relax around him. One of his hands finds your breasts, playing with each nipple in turn, while the other finds your clit. It’s all so much but so good that you’re already a moaning mess before he’s even started moving. “Ready?” he asks, but you’re too far gone to answer.
His pace starts out slow, but you’re impatient and whine as you try to move your hips against his to go faster, which makes him tut. “I told you I’d do the work, didn’t I?” he asks, pinching one of your nipples in reprimand. “So be good for me and stay still, Y/N. I promise I’ll make you feel good.” You whine again but stop moving, heeding his words.
“Perfect,” he whispers and kisses your neck before picking up the pace, shushing you when your moans get too loud.
“I’m sorry, just feels too good,” you manage to let out.
“I know, but you need to stay quiet, baby,” he says, yet gets rougher with his thrusts, which does not help in the slightest. His hand that was on your breasts comes up to cover your mouth, but he quickly decides to make you suck on two of his fingers instead, muffling your moans a bit.
His fingers on your clit haven’t relented this whole time and after just a few minutes, you feel that familiar knot tying itself again in your stomach and you know you’re mere moments away from it coming undone. Judging by his rapid but clumsy thrusts, Sunghoon must be close too. He pounds into you like you’ve been wanting him to ever since you first set eyes on him as he entered the hardware store, hitting your g-spot over and over again. Tears roll down your cheeks and you whimper around his fingers, biting down on them as your second orgasm hits you.
You’re practically sobbing as he helps you ride out your high, his movements sending your body into pleasant overstimulation until he reaches his high too, the feeling of your pussy clenching tightly around him pushing him over the edge. Ropes of his semen paint your walls white, and there’s enough of it for him to become a father of two. You whine as he pulls away, and feel his cum slipping out of you and onto the couch underneath you. Before you can catch your breath, he asks, “Baby, can I do something very dirty?” and you nod without thinking much. This man could do anything he wanted to you, and you’d thank him for it.
He settles you back down onto the couch, kneels on the floor, head level with your core, and sticks his tongue inside your hole, making you yelp in surprise and overstimulation. You don’t understand what he’s doing until he comes back up and makes you open your mouth with his thumb, then spits inside it, telling you to swallow. You do as he says and taste his cum, laughing in disbelief at what he just did - and at how much you liked it. “Fuck,” you giggle.
“Was that too much?”
“God, no,” you say, and he smiles. You open your arms, gesturing for him to get back on the couch. He rests his head between your breasts, the both of you sighing in contentment as he rubs small circles on your belly and you graze your fingers through his hair. He’s so silent that you think he’s fallen asleep, but he speaks up after a while, voice soft and calm like you’ve never heard before.
“We should go get cleaned up…” he says, and you hum in agreement, “...but it’s so nice here,” he finishes, making you giggle.
“If we get cleaned up quickly now, we can cuddle in bed right afterwards,” you argue.
“You’re right. Infallible logic. You’re so smart, you know that, Y/N?” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice.
“Of course I know that,” you joke. “Let’s go,” you say, kissing the top of his head.
You take a shower together, cleaning each other and leaving kisses here and there, or touching in places you shouldn’t touch and that maybe lead to more, right there in the shower. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re insatiable, and you warn Sunghoon that the both of you are in for a very long night, to which he answers that he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Once you do fall asleep, (which isn’t until two rounds later, and you’re surprised either of you have this much energy), however, you’re holding each other tightly, the fan on high so that you don’t feel all sticky, being so close to each other. Even if you wake up here and there because he shuffled or he snored too loudly, it’s one of the best sleeps you’ve ever had.
—
You wake up the next morning by small giggles and snorts that come from none other than Park Chaeryeong herself, who’s buried herself between you and her dad, shaking her body to wake the two of you. You’re glad that you listened to Sunghoon when he told you to put on a t-shirt of his as well as some underwear so neither you or Chaer would have a fright when she came and woke you up as she liked to do every morning. “You had a sleepover!” she exclaims excitedly when she sees you’ve finally opened your eyes, looking at her with a sleepy expression and a smile.
“We did!” you reply, trying to keep the same level of excitement.
“We did,” Sunghoon repeats, taking his daughter in her arms to hug her tightly and blows a raspberry in her neck to make her laugh.
“You didn’t invite me!” she shrieks when her dad’s left her alone.
“Sorry, sweetheart. It was just me and Y/N.”
“No fun,” she pouts, laying on her back and crossing over arms before turning back to her dad. “So, is Y/N my new mom?” she whispers even though you’re right there. You gasp at her question, making wide eyes at Sunghoon who just snorts, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely asking or if she’s an eight-year-old with an advanced sense of irony.
“Of course not. Is Heeseung your new dad?” he asks, mentioning his ex’s new boyfriend. Chaer shakes her head.
“No. He’s Mommy’s boyfriend.”
“Exactly, and Y/N is Daddy’s girlfriend. Isn’t she?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you, smirking.
“She is,” you reply, and Chaer turns back to you, giggling. She snuggles close to you, wrapping an arm around your middle, and you’re taken aback by the sheer cuteness of it all. You look at Sunghoon with a fake pained expression, and he smiles endearingly at the two of you before sighing and joining you in your hug. He rests his arms around you and his daughter, kissing the top of your heads in turn.
“My girls,” he mutters in your hair, and you smile peacefully.
There’s a lot of things you have to talk about with Sunghoon. You know your parents - especially your mom - will be okay with the two of you together, but will his parents be? And once semester starts again, what will happen? You’ll have to go back to campus and he’ll have to stay here - will a three-hour drive be a dealbreaker, or will you make it work?
The thing is, there’s no point in thinking about all of this at this moment. You’ve got the whole summer to figure things out. For now, you’ll eat cherries and spit out the pits, and everything will be perfect.
this is a one shot, there will not be a part two!
permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl @raikea10 @wntrnghts (ask to be removed/added!)
© asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!
#enhypen x reader#sunghoon x reader#enhypen smut#sunghoon smut#enhypen hard hours#sunghoon hard hours#sunghoon fluff#enhypen fluff#enhypen fanfiction#sunghoon fanfiction#enhypen imagines#sunghoon imagines
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Wishlist. // DILF!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader MODERN AU //🎄 SPECIAL
WARNINGS: MDNI, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, lactation kink, breeding kink, fluff, dad!aemond and mom!reader, afab!reader, breast play, nipple play, slight teasing, + not proofread.
WC: 1.4k
« part one // part two »
A/N: your fav dilf and your children are back in town, tis the season to be jolly 🤭 I really wanted to bring this duo back haha, happy late Christmas, sorry for the await! This can also be read as stand alone but reading the prev two fics might help! // divider credits @cafekitsune
“Aenys! Daenys! Be careful, don't run around or you'll slip!” You yelled as you spotted Aenys and Daenys running around with decorations in their hand around the Christmas tree, trying to hang them up.
Daenys trips over the decoration and starts crying, you immediately put down Aelora, your third child down in her high rise chair before rushing over to Daenys and picking her up, patting her back as she clings onto you.
“Shh, there, it's fine, Mommy's got you okay? Don't run around next time.” You tell her and Aenys immediately rushed over to you, “Is she okay?” He asks and you nod, before leaning down and placing a kiss on his forehead.
This year's Christmas was more hectic than before, having a toddler and a kid running around to decorate the tree while managing your one year old isn't exactly easy.
But luckily for you, Aemond had just arrived from work.
“Papa!” Aenys runs over to his father immediately and Aemond picks him up before showering him with kisses, “How was your day Aenys?” He asked him and Aenys started babbling off until he mentioned how Daenys had fallen over just now.
Aemond, being the concerned father he is, immediately rushed to see you holding her in your arms, “You okay darling?” He asks her, holding Aenys up with one arm while caressing Daenys's hair with the other. She looks at her dad before she shifts her weight in his direction, indicating that she wants to be in his arms and Aemond immediately takes her from your arms, carrying both Aenys and Daenys on both of his sides.
You chuckle at how comedic it looks, Aemond was strong enough to carry them both which impressed you, “Aren't they heavy? They're both growing now.” You ask and he smiles and leans to press a kiss to your lips, “Yeah they are, but I want to cherish every moment I can carry them in my arms.” He tells you and you smile.
The evening was spent with giggles and warmth and soon it was time to put the kids to sleep, they kept on babbling about how excited they were to see Santa leave them presents and wondered what they'll get, rambling on how Santa hopefully knows what's on their wishlist and gets exactly them that, you chuckle as you tuck them to bed, placing kisses on their faces and moving to the living room.
You can finally relax, you immediately go into your shared bedroom with Aemond, who already seems to be there, “Aelora fell asleep already?” You ask and he nods, “She seemed very tired.” He tells you.
You sit next to Aemond on the bed, leaning against the headboard as Aemond works on his laptop, you lean your head on his shoulder, watching him work. “Have you gotten the presents for the kids?” You ask curiously and he hums, “Mhm, I can't wait to see their reactions in the morning.” He tells you and you giggle, “I'll place them under the tree at midnight.” You tell him your plan and he closes the laptop, finishing his work and puts it aside on the bedside desk. “What if they catch you?” He turns his full attention to you now, resting his hands on yours. “Oh you know they will not wake up until morning once they fall asleep, sometimes I worry that they're such heavy sleepers.” You tell him playfully and he lets out a small laugh. “Hopefully they like the presents.”
“Speaking of presents, I haven't gotten mine.” Aemond suddenly says and you smile at him, knowing exactly what he wants, “I've even written it down on the wishlist, it seems I was scammed.” He pouts and you chuckle, “Well, Santa can't give you a whole human can he?” You joke around.
When he was asked to put something he wants for Christmas on the wishlist, he wrote down your name on it, making you blush and scribble out that from it.
“Hmm.” He hums as he gazes into your eyes and you look at him back, he leans in slowly before connecting your lips together, they move in passion as the air fills up with tension and desperation, he pulls away breathing heavily.
No words are exchanged as you both hurriedly take off your clothes, and Aemond pins you flat against the bed, showering your face and neck with kisses before gripping your tits with his hand, pinching the nipple.
You gasp when you feel his warm tongue against the bud as he sucks on your breast, he feels your milk fill in his mouth as he swallows it down greedily and pulls away, “Fuck you're still producing milk?” He asks before switching to your other breast and showering it the same attention, “H-hm? Yeah, haven't weaned Aelora off yet.” you tell him and he leaves your breast with a pop, “Not complaining, I fucking love it.” He kisses your lips once again.
His hand caresses and travels further downwards your body to your cunt before dipping into your sweet wetness, “Fuck, you're so soaked, all for me yeah?” He whispers in your ear and you swallow thickly, goosebumps arising when you feel his hot breath near your ear, “Y-yes.” You answer.
His pinches your clit, making you gasp, before slowly rubbing small circles onto it, cause your breath to pick up and pulse begin to race at the arousal. His fingers dip in towards your entrance gently as he places kisses to your neck, “Look how it's engulfing me.” He comments as he watches his finger sink into you before he starts to move.
He curls his fingers before moving them in and out in a certain pattern, hitting your gspot multiple times already, making you wonder if he had its location memorised the way he can find it so easily.
Soon you reach your first orgasm of the night, biting your lip to not be too loud, suppressing your moans in an effort to not wake your baby next room. You should really make your room soundproof, you remember the days when Aemond clamped his hand over your mouth just to keep you from being too loud.
You whine subconsciously when you feel him pull his fingers out and move down, spreading your legs wide before grabbing your calves and placing your legs on his shoulder as he positions his cock against your entrance.
“Literally the best fucking present I could ask for.” He growls as he sinks his cock into your cunt, grunting in pleasure at the pleasure of your walls clamping down and gripping onto him.
He tries to take it slow at first, but it changes the moment you clench around him, unleashing all the frustration he held back and immediately set the pace at a faster rate, causing your body to jolt up and down the bed as you grip on to his hands which were currently holding your waist as in means hold in place securely.
You soon begin to see stars at the way he's moving, your mind spins, feeling the way his cock keeps hitting all the right spots, “Will you give me another?” He asks, panting and you look at him in a daze, “Hm?” You mumble, not understanding what he's asking for.
“Another child, another babe.” He tells you, “You'll let me impregnate you? Fill your womb up with my seed? I fucking love watching you swell with my child, knowing it was me who put it in you.” His words make you more aroused, the thought of having another child with him doesn't bother you and you greedily nod your head, your mind thinking of nothing else besides wanting to be filled up by your husband.
“Fuck—!” He finishes with a grunt, and slowly rides his orgasm out, hitting your sweet spot at the same time, causing you to finish as well.
He immediately plops down next to you and pulls you into his arms, placing kisses on your forehead as you both catch your breath.
“Best fucking Christmas ever.” He pants and you chuckle, “You said that last year too.” You tease and he lets out a loud laugh, “Well, it just gets better every year.” He replies back.
“Aren't we forgetting something?” You question, mind wandering off somewhere else, trying to remember what you were planning on, grabbing your phone and looking at the time, noticing how it said 1AM, you and Aemond look at each other before your eyes widen in realisation.
“Oh right! The presents!”
You both say in unison and rush putting on your clothes just to place the presents underneath the tree.
Needless to say, it was a great Christmas for everyone.
— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡
#aemond smut#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x reader smut#aemond x reader#aemond x reader smut#x reader smut#reader insert#aemond fanfiction#aemond fic#hotd smut#hotd fanfic#aemond fanfic#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x you#aemond x y/n#aemond targaryen x you
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Tis' The Season
Lewis Hamilton x Fem!Reader
Warnings: old friends reappear, flashbacks in italics, complicated relationships, expensive gifts cause it's lew lew duh, uses roscoe as an in, brocedes mention, alcohol and the consumption of, sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), degrading, the use of 'slut' in a sexual context, penetrative sex (p in v), choking, creampie, soft moments at be end.
Word Count: 2,668
Author's Note: love me some lew lew and he gives fuckboy turned lover boy so here we areeeeee
merry smutmas series
--
An old friend finds his way to your front door and no matter how much you try to get rid of him, you can’t.
A knock on the door startles you as you hung the ornament on your Christmas tree. You shout that you're coming, grabbing your wallet out of your purse, as you jog to your front door. You assumed it was your take-out delivery guy and that's not who it was when you opened the door.
The man smiles at you, bags in hand and puppy between his legs. "Hi beautiful," Lewis smiles at you, bundled up in his winter coat.
You huff, looking at him. "Hi Lewis.. what are you doing here?"
He lifts the bags, showing you. "Happy holidays, y/n. I come bearing gifts."
"Seriously?" You hold back the urge to roll your eyes, Roscoe barks and gets your attention, you crouch down to pat his side, the dog leaning into your hand before waddling his way into the house. Lewis doesn't stop him, smiling at you.
"Are you gonna let me in, love? Roscoe is already inside, it'd be rude to let me freeze out here."
You don't have the heart to let them freeze, especially since you know how Roscoe loves him so much.
You let Lewis in, the man takes his shoes off by the door and follows you down the hallway to the living room. Roscoe had already made himself comfortable, shaking off the cold, and lying down by the fireplace. Despite you and Lewis not talking for years, you had left Roscoe's dog bed by the fireplace, as it had always been, picking it up to clean and setting it back in its spot.
Lewis sets the bags on the coffee table, hanging his coat off the arm rest of your couch. "I didn't know if you still live here."
"Well now that you do, I'll have to move, won't I?"
He chuckles, smiling to himself - nice to see your sense of humour has remained.
"Go on, open 'em." He nods towards the gifts on the table. You were adjusting an ornament on the tree, "I don't want it, Lewis."
"Oh hush, don't be annoying, y/n. Just open it."
You rolled your eyes, sitting across from him on the couch and picking up the first bag, the shape was a give away. Carefully, you pulled the bottle of wine out of the bag, some expensive French wine that you two had once upon a time when you took a trip to France. You read the label, setting it down on the table gently.
"Expensive," you eye him and he smiles. "Open the other one." He says quietly, watching as you tear the wrapping paper.
You freeze, the orange box staring back at you, the signature black and white ribbon around the box; Hermes Paris written across the top.
"Lewis.." You look at the man and he nods, waiting for you to go on. You carefully undo the ribbon, taking the lid off of the box. There's clearly a bag in the box, wrapped in a dust bag.
You feel underdressed and dirty, as if you should have showered before opening such a gift. You take the purse out of the dust bag, a Birkin in Bougainvillea - the same shade you had seen so many years ago.
His arm rested over your shoulders, the two of you cuddled on the couch as Lewis flipped through the tv channels. Formula One had wrapped up for the 2008 season and your dearest friend Lewis was now a Formula One world champion.
You, on the other hand, were still in med school.
Lewis had come home for the holidays, a yearly tradition of trashy Christmas movies and Chinese take out had commenced, Lewis picking out something for you two to watch as you flipped through the magazine.
"This one," you tell him, nudging him with your shoulder. "I want this one." You show him the bright pink Birkin bag - in the shade Bougainvillea. It's unrealistically, shockingly pink but it was the newest colour in the collection and you wanted it.
"I'm gonna get this for myself when I finish med school and I'm a rich surgeon."
Lewis smiles, "I'll get it for you, love. No need to wait so long, consider it your med school graduation gift." He kisses your head.
They don't make this colour anymore, you're sure it must have cost Lewis a fortune. "How did you even.. they don't make this colour anymore." You examined the bag, setting it back into the dust bag carefully.
"I know people, y/n."
You hum, "it's too much."
"It's your gift, y/n. I promised you, didn't I?"
You smiled, nodding as you carefully set the bag back into the box. "Thank you Lew, really."
The man smiles, it's been years since he's heard you call him Lewis. You two had a falling out a while back, right after his first championship win with Mercedes - you didn't like the way he treated you, pushed you off to the side as if you hadn't been there for him through it all. Lewis was and still is career driven, it has and will always take first priority to him but it ruined your friendship and it had ruined the same special bond he had with Nico.
In this moment, you let all that go.
The doorbell rings, intruding on your thoughts. "Expecting someone?" Lewis asks, glancing at you as you set the Hermes box on the coffee table.
"No.. oh wait yeah, the take out guy." You say, getting up. Lewis waves you off, getting up and fishes his wallet out of his pocket. "I'm not a broke med student anymore, Lewis. I can afford to pay for dinner."
"As can I, so hush." He says, making his way down the foyer to the front door, paying the man.
You can hear bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, the man thanks him before the door shuts.
The bags are taken to the kitchen and you see him looking around, clearly looking for something. You decide to put him out of his misery, getting up to help him look for plates. Lewis stops, leaning on the counter as he watches you get the dishes out of the cupboard.
"I'm sorry." He says, his words catching you off guard.
Your brows furrow, looking at him. "What for?"
"For everything. What happened in the past… That was between us and I know that it was my fault, and I shouldn't have said what I said, but I truly am sorry. You don't have to forgive me, but I would just like to start over if you give me the chance."
"Okay," you nod, setting the plates on the table.
"Okay."
He joined you at the table, the two of you sitting quietly and eating dinner like you've done many times over the years. Tonight was different though, there was a sense of relief in the air as if this tension had been lifted off your shoulders after so many years. The quiet sound of cutlery clinking against the dishes and Roscoe's snores coming from the fireplace filled the house.
At some point after dinner, you were putting the dishes in the sink and Lewis asked if he should open a bottle of wine that he brought. You shrug, reaching into the cabinet to get the glasses while Lewis pulls the cork out of the bottle before filling the glasses half way.
The house is quiet as the two of you sit on the couch, Lewis handing you a glass of wine. It's a comfortable silence, Lewis takes a sip of his wine as he looks over at you; he can't help but notice how you've aged beautifully over the years, not in a you look old sort of way but the maturity you've come into seems to suit you perfectly.
Next to him, you seem to make the same realization but with him. Lewis what is a baby faced, starting to find himself boy when you two had you falling out. Now he was grown, and even more handsome than the day you had walked away from him.
You take the first step, setting the glass down on the coffee table before reaching for Lewis's glass, setting it with yours.
The tension in the room is thick enough to cut with a knife, the two of you sitting there in silence, inching closer and closer with each passing second until he finally closes the gap between the two of you.
Lewis's hands find your hips, the man pulling you onto his lap. You settle against him as if you had always been there. His lips trail down your neck, hands slipping under your shirt.
"No," you whispered, your hands wrapping around his wrists. Lewis looked at you confused, wondering if he had done something wrong.
"What?"
"We can't do this here."
"Why not?" He asks and you nod towards Roscoe, the dog still fast asleep by the fireplace.
Lewis can't help but laugh, his forehead pressing to your shoulder. "Love, he's asleep. It's fine."
"Oh my god," you smacked his shoulder, "that doesn't mean we're gonna fuck in front of him."
He raises an eyebrow, "we're gonna fuck?"
"Don't be a fuckboy, Lew." The man ignored your words, his arms wrapping around you, picking you up with ease, carrying you down the hallway to your bedroom. Despite the years he hadn't spent there, nothing's changed.
Lewis drops you on the bed and you propped yourself up, watching him get undressed before he sits next to you, his hand cups your jaw and you smile at him. “Hi,” you whisper.
“Hi,” he smiles at you, leaning down to kiss your nose and you scrunch it in response. “You’re cheeky.”
“You love it,” he says, kissing your nose again.
Lewis leans down a bit more and kisses you but you pull away, sliding off the bed. “We can't.” You tell him, about to walk away but he grabs your hips, pulling you to stand between his legs.
Your hands rest on his shoulders, sliding up to rest on his jaw. His beard tickles the palm of your hand as you look at him. Lewis doesn't have to say anything and all the worries seem to slip away in the moment, it was as if you hadn't spent a single day apart.
The man pulls you down on top of him, his hands sliding down your back to rest on your waist as you sit yourself on his lap.
“We-” you go to remind him once more but he cuts you off with a kiss. Lewis flips the two of you over, letting you lay on your back when he gets off the bed, he pulls you to the edge of the bed.
Your eyes fixed on the man between your legs, looking at him in awe. Something about Lewis always fascinated you; you could never put your finger on it but he was always an object of fascination, of desire.
He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the lace you’re wrapped up in under your clothes and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor. He shifts to sit on his knees between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt.
Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking; he wants you to look at him.
Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair.
Lewis knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more and Lewis gives in.
Two fingers pushing into you, Lewis glances up to see your head tossed back onto the pillows, eyes fluttering shut and your free hand groping your tit.
Between his fingers and his tongue, your orgasm was teetering on the edge; he knew that much. Lewis pulls his hands away, the sticky fingers on your thighs. A whimper leaves your lips at the loss of fullness.
Your chest heaving, your grip on his hair loosening now that you’re right on the edge, you’re almost there and he just has to - he’s stopped.
“Why'd you stop?” You sit up, a pout on your lips when you look at the man between your legs.
“Shush, you love hanging on the edge,” Lewis tells you with a smile, unbuttoning his pants.
He lines himself up with you, and Lewis lets you take him little by little, pulling out almost all the way each time before finally pushing into you all the way. He's in charge and you both know it, letting him set the pace; slow and steady and it was driving you insane.
You needed him.
You didn’t want slow, you wanted it hard and messy, the type of fuck where you couldn’t keep your hands off each other.
“Lew, come on.” Your hand reaches to rest on his hand that’s on your hip. “Need more.”
“Do you?” He hums, moving a little faster.
You know giving him attitude won’t help but you can’t help but roll your eyes, “more than that.”
“Needy,” he calls, pulling you closer by your legs.
Finally, you get what you want, Lewis’s hips hitting the back of your thighs, he leans over you and your arms are pinned about your head, both legs up on his shoulders now. The angle was enough to push you over the edge but he didn’t care.
“Lew please-” you tried to wiggle your hands loose but he didn’t budge.
“What’s wrong baby?” he asks, mockingly, “isn't this what you wanted?”
“It is, but-” your head tosses back, back arched when he hits the spot he was looking for.
“Oh,” he coos, smiling at you. “Is my baby so fucked out, she can’t even tell me what she wants?” His thrusts are sloppy, you knew he was just as close as you were.
“Gonna cum-” you barely get out between strangled moans. Lewis finally lets go of your wrists and one of his hands has wrapped around your throat.
“C’mon sweetheart, want you to cum for me.” He says, knowing it won't be long more.
He watches as your eyes flutter shut and he reaches for you with his other hand, holding your jaw and pulling you up a little, your elbows holding up the weight of your body.
“Look at me when you cum.”
You’re forcing yourself to keep your eyes open, focusing on him. A few more sloppy thrusts and between that and his fingers, you’re over the edge. He kisses you, muffling the noise you were making. The wetness wrapping around his cock, and with a few sloppy thrusts, Lewis follows behind you.
The two of you are still tangled together, laying in bed next to each other. Lewis looks over at you, you look back at him with a sleepy smile on your face.
"Should I.."
"Should you.." you trailed off, waiting to hear what he says. Lewis shrugs, "should I go home?"
You take a moment to think, not about kicking him out - that was never an option but perhaps the things that lead you here.
There's a noise from outside the door, a sort of scratching. Seems like Roscoe had woken up and came looking for you two. Lewis takes the hint, getting up to open the door for the dog. You put on your shirt and your panties and Lewis lets Roscoe in, the dog jumping up on the bed with some assistance from his dad.
Lewis gets under the covers with you, Roscoe settled at the edge of the bed. You look over at Lewis, his hand resting on yours.
"I think you should." You tell him quietly and Lewis's brows furrow, a pout forming on his lips. "I should?" He asks.
You nod, "you should stay."
Lewis lets out a soft sigh, smiling. His hand squeezes yours gently. "I'll stay."
---
taglist: @nosugarallspice @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16 @books-and-netflix-pls @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @forza55 @norrisleclercf1 @allalngthewtchtower @therealcap @burningcupcakefire @stargirl36 @brettlorenzi3 @guiseppetsunoda @magnummagnussen @flippingmyshit @savrose129 @lovelytsunoda @irda12-blog @dhhdhsiavdhaj @slytheringirlthatkillpeople @f1lovers22 @toomuchdelusion @eviethetheatrefreak @faye2029 @lillians-world-is-f1 @chalando1604 @lenaxwbr @im-obsessed @potashiuhm @lcxlerc16 @enjoythebutterflies3 @lillyfootballsworld @micksmidnights @mashtonbunny @chrlsleclerc @logischeroktopus
#merry smutmas xoxo#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton smut#lewis hamilton x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 x reader#f1 smut
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— PROTECTOR
pairing: yandere!percy jackson x fem!gf!reader
summary: percy can’t seem to grasp the idea that you can survive just fine on your own.
warnings: arguments, combat, injuries, kinda backwards views/manly views, kind of dark (protective) jealousy, obsessed?? smothering/coddling
a/n: basically he can’t stop worrying, lmk if u want a part 2! sorry it’s short - i already did part two heheh just now
PART TWO
specially for the amazingly talented @lady-ashfade
percy was incessant.
ever since you’d reached camp and gotten settled in, he seemed to be everywhere. whether it be in the mornings at breakfast, at training, when you hung out with your friends, your boyfriend always found away to be right there with you. spacial boundaries be damned.
everyone noticed, they all chalked it up to adorableness. the two of you couldn’t stand to be apart from each other for too long, how adorable was that? but that was only the start. the following along you could put up with, it was quite easy to escape when needed. letting him talk to your friends and get engrossed in the gossip of the ares cabin. excusing yourself from him for lady reasons which never failed to make him red in the face.
it wasn’t as if you were sick of him or anything but you felt smothered. everywhere you turned he was right there, shining smile and ready to talk your ear off. you figured as your relationship progressed and he made more friends, that he’d have his own time.
why would he need friends when he has you?
but your rude awakening came in the form of a training session with a friend.
harry was one of the first people who welcomed you into your cabin, open arms and a warm smile. and percy hated him most. he hated the fact that someone else was able to provide you with the comfort he assumed only could originate from him. anytime the two of you were hanging out hed always inject himself in between the two of you.
“are you trying to burn your marshmallow?” harry laughed at your words whilst retracting his stick, “no but i like it crispy, chocolate melts easier with it.” the two of you had a long day, training with new campers and helping them settle in with luke. even if you didn’t have to, solving a dispute with the ares kids. and even solving the mystery of the stolen shoes. percy had been in the infirmary as a punishment for being out later than usual and accidentally falling from a tree.
he was trying to make sure you were safe in your cabin.
he’d been annoying the apollo kids into letting him out early and at some point they couldn’t take it anymore so they let him go. coming to see you, he didn’t expect to find you sitting next to harry, sharing a marshmallow. of course most people would just see it as a normal sharing but for percy? he wanted to drown the boy. who does he think he is? making a move on his girlfriend just because he’s in the infirmary?
“y/n.” his stern voice drew you from your conversation as you got up, “perce! you’re okay!” you smiled as you walked over to him, percy’s eyes were still trained on the kid. “perce?” you waved your hand in front of his face as percy grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled you along, “what the hell? if you want me to come with you then just say so!” you were infront of his cabin now and he did not look happy, “i’m stuck in the infirmary and instead of coming to visit me, you’re hanging out with him?” his voice was filled with disgust, as your expression screamed puzzled.
“i was the first person who visited you! straight away, but you were unconscious for hours! there’s no point in me sitting there, since it’s not going to help you. so i got out of the way and let them do their work. my world doesn’t stop spinning because you’re not there percy.” you were too busy looking at him, his curling fists going unnoticed.
“i’m your boyfriend, not him. i don’t want to see you around him.” your hand slapped over your mouth as you laughed, from far away you might’ve seemed insane. your hands clutched your head, then abdomen as you laughed, “ahaha! oh my god! you’re crazy! you don’t own me, nor control me percy. if you want to be my boyfriend, you need to learn that i am my own person. when you change your attitude, then come back to me.” you walked away from him, before turning around.
“and until then i’m not sleeping here.” you ran inside to pick up your clothes and bag as percy stood in the doorway, “are you serious?” you clutched all of your belongings, as if he’d try to steal them, “yes i am.” surprisingly he let you go, watching you walk back to your own cabin.
the rest of the night he spent thinking of how he could get you back in his grasp. capture the flag was tomorrow, and he had a plan to make you see just how much you needed him.
#pjo x reader#percy jackson x fem!reader#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson fic#percy jackson imagine#yandere percy jackson#yandere percy jackson x reader
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Let me introduce you to CHATEAU Part 2, a 37-item set for your Chateaus entrance and hallways.
An area that I was always longing to have more items for was a 'grand foyer'. I simply wanted to have proper french stairs but was too afraid of trying out creating them. I pulled myself together and made the stairs plus additional pieces such as curved landings and suitable french fence and railing pieces. Now that I made stone stairs, in the future I will also create a wooden one, the possibilities are endless :D.
Another Area I haven't touched for quite some time is proper historical pieces, but a chateau set can't live without them. I sat down and created a Lous XV console table as a full and quarter version ( actually I found a console table at Hotel de la Marine in Paris and had to recreate it with a twist and incorporated a Plumbob) and a Rococo Mirror inspired by an original from Athena Calderone's apartment. The Mirror comes in three height options. I also made a hanging light and a wall sconce. Two additional items that are less historic but more rustic are a round table, perfect for giant bouquet displays, and a potted Fiddle Leaf tree :)
In this month's set, you will also find a classic Parisian wooden floor, a black and white stone floor, and wallpaper with handpainted patterns( Which I created myself from scratch). I also didn't want to miss out on interior doors :)
This Set is on Early Access now and you can download it here
A little heads up about what's coming next: kitchen month :)
Thank you so so much for all your support and love and I hope you enjoy my new set. Don't worry I didn't forget about the shell building!
Happy Simming!
#ts4cc download#ts4 historical#ts4 finds#ts4 maxis match#france#chateau#provence#parisian#entrance#felixandresims
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what gets their heart pounding... ♡ [partly ns.fw]
↳ w/ Gojo, Geto, Nanami & Shiu
a/n: reader is gn!
i've written these kinds of hcs for OP in the past and i am just so weak for the mix of fluff and a lil bit (a whole lot) spice (´⌣`ʃƪ) part two is already in the drafts, hehe
❦ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
discovering the snack drawer you keep for him at your place, because you know he has a sweet tooth and you want him to feel at home
when you lift his blindfold to gaze into his eyes, unaware that he’s drowning in yours as well
feeling how small your hands are compared to his when he interlaces his fingers with yours, your thumb drawing small circles on his skin while he holds your hand
the same hand wrapping around his length, a little greedy even, your thumb now rubbing over his dripping tip in a way that feels familiar
the small gasp you let out every damn time when he finally presses into you until he’s fully inside, your eyes fluttering open for a heartbeat until they close in bliss again till he starts moving
the vivid memory of you sinking your teeth into every part of him within your reach, trying to muffle your moans (you’re at school after all), and seeing his skin bloom with your tiny love bites the day after
❦ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎
when you play absentmindedly with his hair while he rests his head in your lap on this hot summer day, both of you seeking out the shadows of the gingko trees
the sweet sound of your laughter, the one you only let out when it’s just the two of you and no one else around
wearing your scrunchie on his wrist because he tends to forget his hair ties often (you both know he doesn’t, he just wants an excuse to keep something that belongs to you so you’ll always come back to him)
the stolen kisses and how you part your lips for him so willingly, as if you want to invite his whole being into you
your fingers tangled in his hair while he pushes you against the nearest wall, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips, your panties still dangling from your ankle while he keeps thrusting inside of you
finding said panties in the pocket of his jacket the day after, the scent of yours still sticking to them, as well as the promise that you’ll meet again soon
❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈
seeing all the bakeries all over town you pinned for you two to visit together when you have a day off
the ways your eyes light up outside of the shop windows already, pointing at all the baked goods you want to try with him, knowing it’s not about the food but about spending time together over something you both love
your thumb brushing over the corner of his mouth to wipe away a crumb, only for your lips to meet his shortly after in a gentle kiss
the longing in your eyes when you watch him undress, needy mewls when he takes his sweet time to hang up his suit neatly, unbuttoning his shirt slowly until you grow impatient and reach out to help him with hungry hands
your fingertips on his skin, exploring every inch of muscle as if he was carved from marble, and your lips trailing down his abs, your breath so hot and heavy on his skin
seeing you melt under his praise when you unbuckle his belt to free his aching cock, only to take it down your throat so, so deeply until your face is nuzzled against his trimmed happy trail
❦ 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐔
your name popping up on his phone display, texting him at random times of the day to tell him how much you miss him while he’s busy with clients, you being sweetly unaware how much it means to him
hearing you laugh softly when he calls you by your favorite pet name, knowing how easily he can charm you like that
seeing you wear the expensive gifts he got you, fingers sliding over the necklace around your throat as if to claim you as his and his only
your tongue swirling around his fingertips when he slides them in your mouth, eyes pinned on you while he cups your chin with his other hand, knowing you want to be good for him
how greedily you stick out your tongue to swallow his spit, eyes pleading him to make a mess out of you, one to remember
the sounds of flesh on flesh echoing from every wall when you get on your hands and knees for him, as if your insides were molded just for him
#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#nanami x reader#shiu x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#shiu kong x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#nanami kento x reader#jjk imagines#jjk x you#jjk scenarios#jjk reader insert#gojo satoru#geto suguru#nanami kento#shiu kong
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hi jade! :) i wanted to potentially request anything with poly!marauders x reader? maybe winter themed since its december now?
you write remus, james, & sirius x reader so well that i started reading fanfic for them because of you! i love your style, keep it up lovely! <3 sending you all my love
thank you, ily!! ♡ fem!reader
James’ car idles outside of your work.
You rush down the frosted steps despite the danger, and open the passenger door with a, “Hello,” that can't be dimmed. You could not be happier to see him in his dark-haired, light-eyed glory. Your hands shake at the sight of him alone.
“Hello,” he says keenly.
You climb across the handbrake to kiss him. He takes your face into two big hands, expectant, waiting for you and twice as eager. “Oh, shit, I missed you,” you say, smashed into his lips and leaning further still, “Did you have a good time? Did–”
James rubs your cheek with his thumb, silently asking for you to slow down, and kisses you again. His lips are soft as anything, his hands a little less so, rough of his palms sliding up your cheeks to just behind your ears. He's quick and rather aggressive about it considering you're only a couple of yards from your place of work, but you don't care.
Clearly, he missed you too.
James breaks the kiss to hug you to him, nosing at the side of your head as he says, “I missed you too. And I had a great time. Next year, you'll come with me.”
Your heart skips at the thought. Going home with James to visit his parents would be a dream, if only so you don't have to miss him for three weeks at a time.
He gives you a last quick kiss and drives you home. With his suitcase still in the car and his rucksack in the footwell, you realise he's picked you up before going home, and you rub it in Sirius’ face as soon as you can.
“He picked me,” you say, climbing out of the car, cheeks flush with the heat of having James’ hand on your thighs the entire way home.
Sirius doesn't seem too bothered. Remus worms around him, doesn't even wait for James to get out of the car, ducking in for an awkwardly skewed but achingly affectionate hug. It's not like Remus to show his emotions in any way that could be held against him, but it's clear he trusts the three of you to never do such a thing. You wouldn't.
“You okay?” James asks him quietly. You nearly miss it, apprehended and forced into a headlock by Sirius Black and his bad attitude.
“No more holidays,” Remus says.
“You look handsome anyways,” James says, “what's that about? Thriving in my absence or something?”
Remus flushes at the suggestion —you can see it, having breathlessly escaped Sirius' cruel grasp to stand watching their reunion. He mumbles a denial and burrows deeper into James’ arms.
Sirius is much less emotional than you or Remus, but he's in a good mood. You can tell, tucked under his happy touch. (You weren't rubbing it in that James picked you up first to be cruel, the opposite —you and Sirius love to argue. And the cool, mildly intimidating stare down thing he does gives you chills, so that's a bonus.)
“Alright!” James says, hand on Remus’ shoulder, rucksack on his arm as he shuts and locks the driver's side door. “Let's see how you idiots have done with the decorations.”
“Not nice,” you say.
“But accurate,” Sirius says.
The truth is that without James’ direction, the Christmas decorations have barely been put up. You had the common sense to erect the Christmas tree and it’s adorned with carefully draped tinsel and polished baubles, but the rest of the home is lacklustre, to say the least. You've no stockings for the electric fire, no banners, no foiled hangings or silver trappings.
“Jesus,” James says, dropping his rucksack on the sofa. “This is sad. Where's the wooden bits? My white wooden Christmas tree? Absolutely minimal effort. I'm appalled.”
You and Remus look at one another and shrug. “We searched. Pulled out the airing cupboard and everything, it took ages, and we still didn't find them.”
“That's because it's up in the attic,” James says, chuckling to himself. “Idiots. Where's the stepladder?”
And this is where Sirius’ love rears its head, his arms wrapped around James’ legs as he climbs the ladder positioned dangerously on the landing by the open stairwell. “You can't be real,” James says, swaying dangerously as he pokes around up there with a torch. “You're worried about me? You were on the roof of the shed a month ago—”
“To get a fucking football for next door–”
“Oh, fuck this,” James says with a sigh. Before any of you can stop him, he's leveraging himself into the attic using his upper body strength.
You cross your arms over your chest with a smile. “That was fit.”
“Right?” Remus murmurs.
“Where's the fucking– Ah-hah! Alright, sweethearts, one of you come and grab this from me.”
Sirius looks up at the creaking attic above, frowning, his eyes narrowed. “I don't trust the floor.”
“Siri, just come and get them.”
You build a procession line and slowly unearth the three boxes of Christmas decorations, and a box of festive linens. Sirius helps James safely down onto stable footing, while you and Remus ferry the decorations downstairs. James is the Christmas nut of the lot of you, but Remus likes what James likes, especially now he's been missing him, and so they set about decorating your home while you and Sirius argue over who's making what for dinner. James’ favourite, since he's been away so long, you argue. Pizza, Sirius decides. “Look at the state of him. You know he goes home and Euphemia spoils him half to death.”
“Fully to death,” James says, dotting a kiss into your cheek as he passes with a sheet of snowflake window stickers. “But I was revived.”
Sirius kisses your other cheek, and Remus shouts for you to come and see the lights, lovely!
It's nice to have everyone home.
#the marauders#marauders#poly marauders#poly!marauders#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders x reader#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x reader#james potter x reader#remus lupin fanfiction#sirius black fanfiction#james potter fanfiction#remus lupin fic#sirius black fic#james potter fic#the marauders x reader#the marauders x fem!reader#remus lupin#sirius black#james potter
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𝐦𝐨𝐦 & 𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐩𝐭3 | 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐨
✯social media au
✯daniel ricciardo x female reader
✯mom and dad are back at it again…oh yeah and we can’t forget lando too
✯just a little pt3 for mom & dad!! i’ve really loved this little series i think it’s kinda cute🥹🫶🏻
part 1 part 2
ynricciardo
liked by danielricciardo, lilyhme, landonorris and 765,000 others
Mila is with her favourite person in the world today which means mom and dad get to go on a date to celebrate 7 years together, i love you danny thank you for filling Mila and I’s life with so much love, laughter and sunshine, here’s to forever❤️
tagged danielricciardo
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username happy anniversary to my parents!!!
username our favourites!!!
username danny + y/n forever!
redbullracing congrats to our favorite couple!❤️
landonorris enjoy your anniversary!!
>ynricciardo pls send more Mila photos shes so cute🥹
>landonorris on it!! we’re having lots of fun♥️
username lando and mila hanging out pls
danielricciardo happy anniversary my love, i love you and mila so much
>ynricciardo🥹♥️
landonorris added to their story
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danielricciardo
liked by scottyjames31, redbullracing, ynricciardo and 1M others
happy anniversary to my world, thank you for bringing Mila into our lives and for loving me, even when i miss the laundry hamper 50% of the time, here’s to many more♥️
tagged ynricciardo
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username HAHAHAHA 50% of the time😭
username my parents 4 LIFE
ynricciardo more like 100% of the time babe nice try🙃
ynricciardo i love you so much though❤️❤️
liked by danielricciardo
username y/n came to correct her man as she should
maxverstappen1 happy anniversary!! 💙
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landonorris
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just doing my duties with my favourite ricciardo❤️
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username godfather lando in action
username omg these are so sweet🥹
username LANDO AND MILA SUPREMACY
ynricciardo lando these are so cute, she really loves you, thank you for taking such amazing care of her and making her so happy🩷
>landonorris always mom🫶🏻
>carlossainz55 hand me some tissues pls
username lando still calling y/n mom😭
danielricciardo mila makes these photos cute fyi
>landonorris well obviously 🙄
mclaren our favourite little future mclaren racer!!
>ynricciardo no racing.
>mclaren yes ma’am 😅
ynricciardo
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baby ricciardo #2 is on the way!! i couldn’t wait any longer to share the news, i blame danny’s smile for this. of course we caught lando’s reaction once again to the news, safe to say he was shocked, we’re just one big happy family 🩷
yes lando is in this family daniel 😁
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username IM SO HAPPY OMG I CANT
username another baby😭😭😭
charles_leclerc congratulations! can i join this family too?
>danielricciardo no
>ynricciardo yes!! ignore daniel!
landonorris i’m kinda scared for this
landonorris jk very excited for you two 🫶🏻
landonorris also take that ricciardo😁
>danielricciardo i’ll change the locks.
>ynricciardo oh you will?
>danielricciardo…..
username yay congrats you two!!!
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ynricciardo
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same tree one year apart, feeling so lucky to be here growing another little tiny human, mila, your dad and I cannot wait to meet you🤍
see 99,000 others
username y/n you look stunning
redbullracing congratulations to mom & dad of the track!❤️
username mama of two!!!
>username you mean 3 including lando…
>username HAHAHHA
landonorris i can’t wait either!! two terrors let’s go!
>danielricciardo just wait till we send both of them to your house
>landonorris mate, im ready 🫡
username im sorry but lando’s relationship with them is too precious ☹️
francisca.cgomes yay!! can’t wait to meet baby ricc #2!!
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#rueswrites#ruesanswers#ruesanons<3#ruesasks#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo x fem!reader#daniel ricciardo#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo fanfic#daniel ricciardo fluff#daniel ricciardo x girlfriend reader#daniel ricciardo x female reader#daniel riccardo imagine#daniel ricciardo fake ig#daniel ricciardo fake social media#daniel ricciardo x wife reader#dad daniel ricciardo#formula one#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x female reader#formula 1
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❄️ 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟖𝐭𝐡 : 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬 - 𝐃𝐢𝐥𝐟!𝐀𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐒𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫.
— CW: 18+. Smut. Cockwarming. Tit sucking. Age gap (Anakin is 43, Reader is 21) | Word count: 1.1k (not proofread!)
— a/n: Fourth day of the Anyafest let's go <3! I apologize for the delay. Had a doctors appointment.
— Anyafest 2023 + Taglist!
“It looks nice…” Anakin compliments you from the couch, closing the empty boxes labeled «Christmas decorations».
“Thank you,” You reply, stepping down the small stool. “Glad you liked it.”
“Luke and Leia will love it—” He scratched the back of his head nervously before letting his arms fall on his thighs. “It’s been a while since we decorated the house like this.”
“How come?”
“Well… they aren’t kids anymore, you know? Plus they spend the 24th with their mother, so I just hang out with Obi-Wan and his wife during Christmas.” Anakin piles up the boxes in the corner, making a mental note to return them to the attic. You nod, not sure if you should push the conversation or not— but your curiosity is too strong. The thought of Anakin spending Holidays on his own makes your heart clench with yearning.
“This year you have me,” You say with a smile, placing the small ladder next to the chimney and walking to his side to wrap your arms around his back. Admiring the tall Christmas tree, you smile to yourself. “And not to brag or anything… but I did a great job.”
Anakin laughs, kissing the top of your forehead and wrapping his arms around your waist. “You sure did, dollface. You sure did.” He stares at the bright star on top of the tree, the ghost of a nostalgic smirk dancing on his chapped lips.
Despite the warm moment, Anakin was being 100% truthful before. Since his divorce, Holidays weren't exactly the same. The first years he had the twins all for himself, so the house was always a mess— a happy mess. He’d spoil them with toys, clothes, anything they could ask for and even more; back when things were easier and it felt like those joyful moments could last forever. His house was the meeting point and it was full of life, laughter and light. Nowadays… not so much.
With the twins all grown up, almost of age and not entirely interested in spending Christmas with their old man, Anakin found himself binge watching Christmas movies with a bottle of bourbon and his favorite Chinese takeout. An awful combination but he found it to be comforting. Normally he’d pass out before the fourth movie and blackout drunk… but this year it is different. This year he has you.
“Anakin?” You pull him out of his trance, snapping your fingers in front of his face. “You alright? You zoned out.”
He shakes his head slightly, replacing the look of melancholy with a comforting expression. “Sorry— just remembering.”
Your eyes soften, of course he is. You noticed it while he unpacked the ornaments and decorations. The way he held the small handcrafted spheres that Luke did for him in elementary school, and how he smiled when he saw Leia’s old Christmas card. You could only imagine how it would feel to see your children distance from you.
“I know we have been dating for just half a year…” You start, holding his hand and guiding him to the couch. “But I'm glad you are sharing a part of you with me. I love to hear your stories. They are lovely,” Cupping his face, you kissed him. It was a tender, soft kiss— the warmth he has been missing for years. “It is a pleasure to spend Christmas with you.”
“Come here, pretty princess,” Anakin sighs, pulling you over his lap and squeezing your waist. Your body clicks on top of him in a way none other than perfect. His nose nudges at your pulse point, inhaling you. “You smell nice, is that the perfume I gave you last week?”
“It is,” You nod, mindlessly dragging your hips back and forth. “Let me take care of you… You don’t have to spend Christmas alone this year.”
His large hand makes its way to the back of your head, bringing your face against his and melting you in a loving kiss. You can taste the whisky he drank before decorating and the faint tobacco from the cigarette he had in his lips when he picked you up— both flavors mixing to create the characteristic taste that excites your tongue. Anakin pops the button of your jeans, lifting your body so he can pull it down and press your pantie-clad core against the bulge in his black sweatpants. His calloused palms slide inside your sweater, caressing your abdomen and cupping your breasts, squeezing them and fondling them without restraint.
“I could get used to this,” Anakin whispers playfully, lifting your sweater and shirt all together so he can lower the cups of your bra, immediately attaching his lips to your nipple.
Your hips buckle involuntarily, bringing his face closer to your chest and clumsily looking for the little bow on his sweats, yanking it. He chuckles at your eagerness but helps you pull them down anyway, biting his lower lip at your surprised gasp. Of course he skipped underwear today.
He wraps a hand around the base, pressing it against your clothed hole and pushing the fabric of your underwear against it. The cotton is nothing more than an annoying barrier to where you want him the most; with an exasperated whine you slap his shoulders, wordlessly begging.
“Alright, alright— don’t throw a tantrum, princess.” Anakin shakes his head, clicking his tongue and pushing your panties to the side, sliding the tip in. He goes inch by inch, clearly teasing you. He’s halfway in when Anakin decides to pull out, enjoying the impatient moan that falls down your throat. “You are so desperate for my cock, aren’t you?” Without waiting for an answer he sinks back in, this time all the way.
His cock stretches you just like the first time and it always is a marvelous feeling. He doesn’t move, no— he likes to feel every pulse and clench of your wet velvety walls. Plus, if he forces you to cockwarming him enough you'll be cockdrunk in no time. His mouth takes a small trip from your neck to your lips, using his thumb to force your jaw open and lick every corner of your mouth. You try to move your hips on your own, but he warns you with a small slap on your cheek. No moving is allowed until he says so. You really wanted to take care of him this time— but Anakin’s favorite hobby is to turn you into a brainless putty that can only beg for cock. His member throbs inside you and you feel it, he insists on fucking you raw so you can feel it, and you don’t regret a thing.
The hand that slapped your ass sneaks between your bodies, pressing it flat on your lower stomach so he can feel the slight push of his cock. He’s always too big for you to handle— and yet you love to have your guts rearranged by him. There's something about old men that…
“You look so lovely all stuffed, baby,” Anakin caresses your hair, lifting his hips as if he was trying to push his member deeper. “Aren’t you the star on top of my Christmas tree?”
— ❄️ Taglist! : @darthgloris | @offthethirlwall | @pockcock | @shellxrls | @anisdoll | @wifeofasith | @anakinsgirlfriendreal | @urmomsfav0 | @anisgurll | @mortalheartache | @arzua10 | @haydensgirlaela | @bimbo-baggins86 | @jadeeeeqq | @https-luvaviva
#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anyafest 2023!#anakin skywalker#dilf!anakin skywalker#dilf!anakin#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker smut#anakin x reader#anakin skywalker x f!reader#anakin skywalker x reader smut#anakin skywalker one shot#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin x reader smut
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The Little things with Husband! Rooster ♡
Husband! Rooster who insists on cooking dinner every night (even though he’s terrible at it)
Husband! Rooster who teaches you songs on the piano.
Husband! Rooster who who hangs back at the table/bar when you go out together, but always has his eye on you.
Husband! Rooster who's ultimate sign of trust and devotion is when he lets you trim his mustache.
Husband! Rooster who holds your hand under the dinner table.
Husband! Rooster who hoists you up on his shoulders each Christmas to put the star on the tree.
Husband! Rooster who tied bits of string and straw wrappers around your ring finger each time he had them, until he mustered up the courage to propose.
Husband! Rooster who swears to become the best man he can for you, and starts by seeing a counselor for his trauma.
Husband! Rooster who sleeps as close to you as humanely possible (and would probably sleep on top of you if you let him)
Husband! Rooster who lets you plan all your dates, not because he doesn't care, but because he's perfectly happy doing anything with you.
Husband! Rooster who wakes you up early on the weekends to go to the farmers market.
Husband! Rooster who always opens the door for you.
Husband! Rooster who lets you borrow his sunglasses whenever it's sunny.
Husband! Rooster who nearly had a panic attack the first time he introduced you to the daggers.
Husband! Rooster who ropes you into his spontaneous dance breaks.
Husband! Rooster who proposed with his parent's rings.
Taglist: @rosiahills22 @marchingicenotes7 @bayisdying @bella-law @callsignaries @blue-aconite @katesmadness @lisedanie @oliviah-25 @another-tblr-fangirl @luckyladycreator2 @eliseline @xoxabs88xox @fanboyluvr @lisedanie @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @dozcan123 @withakindheartx @nyx2021 @teti-menchon0604 @sass-masterkittenmama @bisexual-watermelons @kmc1989
#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun x reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#rooster top gun#rooster#rooster bradshaw imagine#top gun x y/n#top gun x you#top gun maverick fanfiction#top gun maverick x reader#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw imagine
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Happy Valentine's Day 💘
Can I get something from Hades?
a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18
Zagreus is right next to him, so close that their arms brush as they walk, but Thanatos has never felt further from him.
"Try this!" he says, beaming as he reaches up and plucks something that looks like plum but is more red than purple from a tree hanging heavy with fruit, it's branches so long that he doesn't even have to step off the road to grab it.
Megaera snatches it from his hand, looking it over suspiciously. People give them a wide berth as they walk through Zagreus's city, but people wave and bow and shout greetings as they pass.
Even in Elysium, there's not this much joy. People are happy here. It's not endless fighting and torment and a fruitless search for glory. It's people living in ease and comfort, creating and lounging and laughing.
Megaera bites into the fruit much the same as she'd bitten into Zagreus and frowns. "This doesn't have power like the ones on the surface do."
"Why would it need to? The ones one the surface are to keep people alive and strong and to help them make it through winter. Down here they're just tasty," He takes the fruit back and bites into himself before holding it out to Thanatos. "Eurydice manages the gardens and fields down here, more or less. We grow normal stuff too, that's just not as fun for me."
Thanatos bites into the fruit, places his teeth over the indents Zagreus's left behind. It's more tart, like a cherry, but with the bite of something like citrus. It's also not without power, but it's more like a pom or a bracing cup of coffee than the boons of his surface fruits.
"And what do the others do?" Megaera asks, licking the juice off her lips.
He gestures around them. "Sisyphus does most of the city planning, although sometimes people just build stuff they want, which is fine, but if it interferes with his, I don't know, organization, I end up having to move it to some place he deems suitable. Patroclus sort of just does whatever, you know?" He frowns. "People come to him with stuff, because I'm not around a ton, and he's pretty good at keeping the other two from going too overboard when I'm not around. He's like a mayor."
"What about Achilles?" Thanatos asks.
Zagreus grimaces. "Patroclus's husband is Patroclus's decision. I have the diamonds to buy out his contract, and it's not like there's any concern about him staying in Elysium now - he's one of mine. Eurydice loves Orpheus, I think, but she's still pretty pissed at him, but he's welcome too. Sisyphus will probably ban him from the lyre if he tries to play mopey music though."
Megaera says what Thanatos doesn't want to say. Can't bring himself to say. "What about us?"
Zagreus pauses, the sun that can't be the sun warming his skin and brightening his eyes. "What about - what do you mean? You work for my father. I know that."
"So you have no work for us to do?" she challenges, stepping closer so she can snarl into Zagreus's face.
He spreads his hands, like he's helpless, like that's something he can be when he wields the power of a god of the pantheon even without a throne. "It's not really - I don't tell people what to do, none of this was really planned. Even Eliana kind of just - people just do things and I let them, really."
"And will you?" Thanatos asks, desperate and lonely and longing and trying not to show and of it. "Let us?"
Zagreus stills, shooting him a lopsided smile that almost makes him feel like everything isn't crumbling from underneath him. "If that's what you want."
When it comes to Zagreus, all Thanatos does is want.
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Text
Waytelem
Neteyam x Reader
word count: 1k
Summary: Tradition with Neteyam
A/N:
"Individuals create a songcord that is used as a tactile representation of their own personal or family. Na'vi create their own song cords and expand on them continuously, adding a new item to the cord for any significant life event that occurs."
"Traditionally, once a Na'vi male has passed the tests on the path to manhood and has been accepted into the clan as an adult, he is not only allowed to make his bow from the wood of the Hometree, but he is also expected to choose his woman."
Two blue feet glued to the wooden branch below you, focused on keeping balance, you strolled ahead under the shadow of greenery. Rays of sunshine pooled beneath you, serenity chirping around, causing your ears to flutter.
Stopping at almost every step, you lovingly caressed the manifestations of the Great Mother. From sensitive to the touch, peach colored mushrooms to hanging azure vines. Every breath you took was synchronized with the forest.
Happiness was simple.
As all things seemed in tune, a particularly annoying tail kept disturbing your peace. Finding the joy in tickling your nose and poking whichever eye it chose. Having enough of it, you swiftly seized it between your grasp and tugged on it.
“Neteyam, you säsrätx!”
The boy fastened his pace and collected his tail back with a toothy smile.
“Ikniyama is close, this should not even phase you.” The young na’vi snickered.
“That was your last breath, skxawng.” You evilly laughed and began to chase him, pinching the back of his legs whenever you could.
Both of you quickly climbed up the trunk of a particularly large tree. Ascending to a naturally formed platform, secluded from the eye. Neteyam was first to sit down, carefully putting his bow and arrows beside him.
You followed, going by his side, slapping his cheek with your tail. Proudly sitting down with your legs crossed, you expected a reaction - and none was received. Instead, he remained seated in front of you, a smug smile painting the lower half of his face. Not even looking at you, he busied himself with detaching his songcord from his waist cloths.
You mirrored his actions, getting yours out.
“You know, this is unacceptable behavior from the future Olo’уektan.” An emotionless statement from you, which purpose was to get under his skin.
Finally meeting your gaze, Neteyam laid his songcord on the ground.
“And this is the behavior expected from a child.” He said with a smile.
The boy did not mean for it to hurt, but it did. By the clan’s way he was an adult, having completed the rite of passage. And you - half a year younger and still a kid. Being born again, it scared you. The uncertainty never left your weary shoulders. But it was close, you could do it. Conclude it and become a functioning member of the clan.
Neteyam’s soft nature immediately noted your silence.
“You know I did not mean it.” The boy worryingly said while reaching out to caress your hand.
Meeting his copper eyes, you let your face fall down.
“I will wait for you.” He matter of factly reassured your downcast frame.
I will wait for you, he said, of its true meaning you pondered.
Would he wait for you?
Both of your lives were intertwined from small children, you had always known him. Seeing him grow from Neteyam the Mighty Fisherman to Neteyam the Fierce Warrior. The youthful adoration was now a clumsy teenage love, but none of you dared to say a word. Ever since you could remember you had always done everything together. it was natural, you just always lingered by his side and he by yours. it was funny actually, right now was one of those moments.
it was a tradition to weave your songcords together, if you had a closer look at them you would see they were almost identical.
His last words had your cheeks become a deep shade of purple now, ears back, you squeezed his hand.
“Do not speak of such things, Nete.” Your tone low from embarrassment.
His hand from yours went up to your nose to flick it so you could look him in the eye, missing your usual demeanor.
“Whatever you wish, yawne.” The young na’vi went back to fiddling with his songcord.
“Neteyam!”
You spent the next hour twining a fragment of an ikran’s tooth between the string. From when Neteyam claimed his own ikran and as it was your first time climbing the Hallelujah mountains.
With Neteyam’s help you crushed it to smaller bits, so it could be easily woven into the cord.
The time shared together was mostly spent in singing personal songs, only for your closest to hear. It served as an escape from the daily chores of life, hidden from parents and siblings.
“I think i’m done.” Neteyam broke the silence first.
You grabbed his hand and pulled for closer inspection, catching the boy by surprise. It was now your turn to make him nervous.
A shy expression and a tight line forming on his mouth, he intently looked and waited for an answer.
“It’s beautiful, Nete.” You flashed a toothy grin, fangs poking out.
“Thank you.” His expression made your stomach turn, this boy would be the death of you.
Neteyam retracted his palm and pulled out petals from a sun lily. His hand unsurely remained in front of him, scared to proceed. You curiously gazed at the boy, irises enlarging and tail nervously swatting.
“Come closer.” He sweetly commanded, closing the space between you.
For the first time ever, you silently obliged, standing on your four limbs, you waited. Something was different this time, the air was heavy, you dared not ruin it.
Neteyam carefully put the flower petals behind your ear, making your breath hitch. He pulled back, remaining a few inches from your face, noses almost touching. None of you moved, intently looking into the other’s eyes. You could see the light reflecting in his tawny orbs.
He was beautiful.
The young na’vi slowly closed the space between your lips. The sweetness of the first kiss, gentle and loving. Scared of everything, both of you barely moved. You delicately pulled back, meeting his eyes and diving back in with a smile. This time more confident, Neteyam cupped your cheek, keeping you in place, growing eager by the second. You have no idea how long you had stayed like this.
And then you felt it.
A tickling sensation on top of your heads, both of you pulled back, carefully looking up to inspect.
A woodsprite gently hovered above you.
He will wait for you.
Na'vi translation:
waytelem - songcord
säsrätx - annoyance
iknimaya - the rite of passage for young Na'vi
skxawng - idiot
olo’eyktan - clan leader
yawne - beloved
#neteyam#neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan#neteyam fanfiction#neteyam x you#neteyam sully#neteyam avatar#neteyam x reader#avatar imagines#avatar 2
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