#or it's so cringy and there's a million spelling errors | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mimithings97 · 6 years ago

Text

Heartache (M)

Summary: You didn’t know such a feeling was so real, so vivid, so hurtful. But it had happened and happened to you before you could stop it. Tae had become written into your life hard and fast, so when you leave you question that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t willing to unwrite him.

Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

Warnings: Heartache for starters, Unprotected sex, Oral (male receiving), Swearing, Nude modelling, Taehyung’s a sappy mess, Mentions of Alcohol

Word Count: 6k

A/N: Can’t lie in saying how morbid it is that I enjoy writing angst. It’s light angst though and a lot lighter than how fucking whipped Tae is at the end. Much love for the bub though, so, enjoy x

Ahhh jungkook features as well forgot to mention. Still love him. Nothings changed there.

Heartache.

Cringy, you once thought to yourself.

How could you be so dependent, so set and so immersed in something that your heart actually aches?

It didn’t make sense to you until the day words were spoken that couldn’t be taken back, bags were reluctantly packed and more tears were shed than there is water in the Thames. Heartache was real, vivid and the hardest thing you have ever had to live through in your 24 years of life. 3 weeks of a deep set dropping in your stomach that couldn’t be shaken despite the booze intake, the occasional listening to his voicemails and the relentless tears.

Your mother told you that if you built up too many walls it would hurt so much more when someone knocked them down. You had told Taehyung this on the first date, your first date, ever, with any man. You had always drawn a line between pleasure and dependency, settling for short flings and the occasional online relationship (purely for the sexting) instead of the commitment and responsibility that weighed on vulnerable shoulders when you bear your entire self to another in a relationship. Taehyung knew this. But he fell and you fell harder. You fell completely and utterly under his spell for three years.

And then he told you he wanted to marry you. Bastard didn’t even propose, just mentioned that one toxic word of marriage and you instantly laid the bricks of that wall he had so unceremoniously knocked down all those years ago.

It felt so adult yet so childish leaving someone over the concept of marriage, but when talks of marriage turn to talks of children and one party wants something completely different to the other, what kind of relationship is there to continue.

So three weeks later, just as the physical pain of emptiness and heartache has begun ebbing away, the emotional trauma of your decision begins to cave in on you.

To Jungkook:

11:31pm

You: I know I said I’d stop this

You: But I really dont know if this is worth the pain

You: His mum sent me a get well soon card today bc he told her i was ill and that’s why i hadn’t visited

You: I’m never going to not love him

You: How does anyone get over this shit its not fair

11:35pm

Guk: Oh noona

Guk: It’ll take lots and lots of time and lots and lots of tubs of ice cream and wine but youre both adults who want different things and not everything is meant to be

Guk: Sacrifice for the greater good right

11:35pm

You: There’s no fucking greater good here

You: I hate this

11:37pm

Guk: Noona you know that down the road hyung wants children. I don’t think marriage was that big, but he’s always wanted to be a dad

Guk: It’s not fair of him to ask you to have something you don’t want but its also not fair to leave him without the thing he’s always desired the most

11:40pm

You: Its just too hard to take

You: It feels like three years for jack shit

11:41pm

Guk: If you’re really struggling that much, noona, talk to him. I know he wants to talk to you still, he’s tried to contact you everyday. Maybe it will give you some closure or just help you see what’s right

11:41pm

You: Love you

Your phone is down as soon as Jungkook mentioned talking to him. How could you take one step forward and a million steps back by talking to him? It would be like hanging just what you want right in front of you but no touching, no talking to them after that 5 minutes of hell, no seeing them ever again. Closure is what you need but never what you’ll want.

The sheets that surround you, nuzzled closely into your neck and still unwashed even after three weeks just to keep that tiny scent of Tae over you naked skin, warm you to the point your eyes drift. You don’t mean to fall asleep so easily, but when every little action weighs so heavy on you during the day, sleep comes too easily. However, so does the nightmares of crawling alone in the black abyss.

---------------------------------------------

Resuming work was never easy on a broken soul, but alas, here you were, with three weeks of sick pay under your belt you’d rather not have and 20 children at your feet.

Ironic isn’t it.

You break up with the only man you’ve ever loved because you can’t face a future of settling down with children, yet you wake up at the fucking godforsaken hour of 6 am to tend to a bunch of five and six years olds every day. No, you didn’t hate children, but they weren’t the joy of your life either. You were good at your job and you had this mad psychological complex that if you could help a child at five or six like you had so desperately needed at that age, then maybe you’d make their life just that little bit easier and that little bit brighter. Taehyung always found your reason for working so admirable - fuck that look of pure adoration in his eyes when you told him - so he found it equally hard to come to terms with when you told him the opposite. When you told him you couldn’t have your own children because the responsibility scared you. His ears were ringing at the point where you told him you also didn’t want to share him and his kindness, even so, the damage had been done, whatever the reasoning.

“Y/N! Jennie said you were back,” it’s a tight smile from you and a loose hug, but it’s amazing you’ve managed that with the way your head is far from in the room let alone the conversation at hand. “God, I hope you’re better, you were out for a while.”

You squeeze a weak laugh out, “Yeh, it wasn’t all that fun.”

“For a second me and Jennie were thinking you might be pregnant.” The heartache subsides, rivalled by the very distinct feeling of sickness. The ball of energy in front of you persists in conversation, but it’s to drowned ears and for a second you think you’ll faint.

You miss your name being called. Shit, you don’t even know where it’s coming from, because the all-consuming feeling of this tide of emotions has swept you far from your spot in the classroom. Marie in front of you still calls, asking if you’re okay, but it’s the tug on your skirt, not harsh, but enough to garner a reaction that casts your eyes down.

“Miss Y/N?”

It’s Jojo, eyes wide and glaring up at you, still clung to the material of your skirt.

“Miss Y/N, why are you crying?”

You instantly draw the back of your hand to your face and it catches a cascading tear, much to your shock. You face must morph into a mortified expression at the thought of so carelessly crying at work, in the presence of the kids you look after with a smile and a skip in your step each day.

“Miss Y/N, it’s okay to cry. You can draw with me if you feel crying…” he shakes his head, “sad. Sad I mean.”

You feel Marie’s hand on your back, but Jojo’s eyes sweep you into a frenzy of more tears before you find yourself kneeling on the floor by the table. His table, where he sits alone each day, with paper and paints, or pencils, or chalk, sometimes he just folds it and hands it to you saying he made his paper into a flower. He already has one of his drawings on the go but scribbled over it thoughtlessly before starting out on a series of words. ‘To miss Y/n’. Your eyes well further, but his words stop you.

“I think sometimes that drawings can make you better. Can make better the sadness.”

---

“Tae are you still going at it?”

You peer around the corner of the door, leaning half in half out of his man cave to study your boyfriend at work. 5 hours he’d been couped up in there.

“Hmm.”

He didn’t let you see his art until the product was finished, completely finished, because sometimes he’d say he was done and then go back when he’d found the smallest error only to get pissed off that you had witnessed anything other than the completed masterpiece.

“Tae, you’ve been in here for hours, just come out to help me cook.” You plead with him over the canvas, not daring to peak any further.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He hasn’t looked at you since you came in, his brow well and truely glued into a furrow and the tea you’d brought him earlier cold and untouched beside him. You lower your tone into a more serious one.

“You okay?”

Silence.

“Done.” He doesn’t sound relieved or happy at the finalising of a five-hour art project like most would, like he normally does. He’s merely, ‘done’.

With an apprehensive tone, you ask, “Can I come see?” A gentle nod and you round the canvas, his arm dropping the brush in favour of tugging at the skin of your waist until you’re gently seated in his lap.

It’s beautiful and it’s simplistic and there’s so much life and emotion in it that you know the five hours weren’t all spent with brush to canvas but with him mulling over the memories and thoughts it conjured up.

“Your grandmother’s house?” Your voice is soft, not a pitying soft, but a soft that lets him know he can talk freely.

“Hmm,” he presses a kiss to the shoulder exposed by the shirt that hangs off you loosely. “Wanted to do something for her.”

You let the silence and the painting speak for itself for a while as his hands brush at your sides and you lean into his head that rest against you, chin to shoulder as his warm breath lulls you into calmness.

“You miss her?”

“So much.”

“Painting makes it better?”

… another kiss and a sigh, warm.

“Mmm. Sometimes painting and drawing just makes the sadness a little easier, just makes it better.”

---

You see Tae in this tiny boy, this boy who draws to ease the sadness, who coups himself away on his table to be alone, too afraid to cry in front of the other boys and girls. Is he doing it too? Is he alone and painting?

Then Jojo slides you his paper, wordlessly and your eyes with dried tears, prick once again, heartache replaced with something completely different, regret. And now hope. It’s those small boys words on paper, insignificant to him, and probably tiny in the grand scheme of things, but it’s his words that make you seek out for the one thing you know you can’t live without, the one thing that will heal your sadness.

‘To miss Y/N, i hope your crying gets better soon. Its okay to cry but its also good to make you happy. I hope you find your happy. From Jojo.”

You’d already found your happy, you just had to get him back.

-------------------------------------------------------

“Y/N!?”

And it merely takes your name for you to lose every word on your tongue. Any word you could’ve conjured at that moment couldn’t have described how you felt. He looks dishevelled, and beautiful, hair unwashed and falling into his eyes, white top littered with stains and his pyjamas bottoms you bought him for Christmas hanging off his hips.

His eyes lull from their immediate shock before he turns to look at his apartment, running a frantic hand through his hair and stumbling on his words.

“Shit. I- I mean. I wasn’t really thinking- I didn’t expect you.”

You probably shouldn’t have come. Some people would’ve turned and gone the other way. Maybe that was the right thing to do, was that the brave thing? Were you being a coward by rooting to the spot and not being able to speak a word?

He looks at you, then behind you somewhere, then back into your eyes and his gaze sinks so far into yours, you think you might just cry there and then.

“Dooo you want to come in?” He sounds apprehensive, he probably thinks you are too, but all you want to do is be back in his apartment just like three weeks ago, touching him, talking to him unhinged, perhaps feeling the skin beneath his shirt where his heart lies, feeling if his heart has ached as yours has.

With blinking eyes that try not to glaze over, you nod, short and curt, and you miss the puff of air his mouth rings out with relief.

He dashes away once you’re past the threshold, scampering around as if to distract you from the surrounding environment - it’s dusty, too cold and dark with the way the curtains shut out summer light and you barely recognise his floor as wood with the way food scatters and clothes are strewn. Small shards of light reflect from out of the study and your eyes naturally draw there only to find a mess, door open just enough for the hoard of half-finished painting and wasted canvas’ to come into view. The door is closed by Taehyung like he knew where your gaze would lead you.

“I-I’m fucking sorry about this, it’s gross and it’s messy and i-”

“It’s just like mine.” The corners of your mouth turn up sympathetically but also because you’re relieved he’s not okay. It’s awful to say but heartache has clearly done a job on him too and for that you’re relieved. “Don’t worry, it’s just fine.”

“Just fine,” he mutters under his breath with a half-laugh.

You’re still stood stuck to the doormat, jacket hanging tightly to you like a defence mechanism and your hands remain tight to your sides. When his eyes find yours, you seize up further like it’s the first time he’d ever seen you.

---

You’d told Janice one too many times for this situation to be coincidence. You may or may not have told her you were a sucker for exhibitionism. She’d found it all shits and giggles until the art class she headed entered into ‘naked form’ week and it was too good of an opportunity to pass by.

So the robe drops and you’re way too aware of the last time you shaved - you think you’d be prepared, but pair a hangover with a 7:30 start and bodily care wasn’t the first thought to come to mind.

Janice gives off a flow of instructions, pointing to your body like you were a cow on show, and telling the artists to ‘admire her form, the way her body dips and flows and let you brush or pencil do the responding as though her body was talking to you’ - you almost scoff aloud at her waffle because art is so full of shit.

Exhibitionism kink or not, you’re thirty minutes in and the way your hip cramps and you eyelids lower, there is nothing alluring or desirable about this.

But then the door on the far wall swings open all too harshly for your eyes to feign jolting away. And they blow out further when they’re met with the masculine figure uttering apologies and skidding halfway from door to seat with his urgency.

‘Just women’ she said. ‘Nothing to be worried about,’ she said. It ruined the whole ‘i like being stared at by fit men’ at first but then put you a little at ease that some 70 year old man, trying to spice up his last years of life with a too expensive art course, wouldn’t be staring your tits down.

Yet here you were, with a man with eyes too beautiful to be tarnished by the view in front of him, gazing in shock at your naked body.

“Mr. Kim, it’s nude form week. Guessing you didn’t get the email?”

You only have your imagination for what his voice must sound like because he only shakes his head, throat too dried and scorched from you laid out, baring it all in front of him for him to say anything.

But your imagination didn’t do justice in those two hours of torture. Because his voice telling you he’s ‘sorry for interrupting the session’ and even ‘sorrier for being so unworthy of staring at something so beautiful’.

You’d always hated cringe. But cringe never sounded so good when it was spun off Taehyung’s silk tongue.

---

“Can I get you anything?”

It’s him who breaks the silence, and it’s a godsend because you were two seconds away from spinning on your heel and cowering out of the entire thing.

“N-no. Thank you, Tae.”

He groans at the timidity of how you say his name and nickname at that.

And silence soaks the atmosphere again, tenser this time because greetings have been uttered, drinks offered and there’s nothing more to say that unspoken words of the past.

That’s what you thought you were here to do at least. To tell him you’re sorry, first and foremost, because you’d never intend to break a soul as tender-hearted as his. Then you were supposed to tell him that you loved him, and you would always love him, and that sacrifice must be made for the greater good.

Jungkook had told you that once. But he’d said Taehyung must be the one sacrificed and you should be the one salvaged - until you realised there was no greater good in that situation, no salvation to be had.

“I’ll sacrifice myself,” words come out loud and unexpected as your train of thought is voiced. They’re too loud also, and they break the atmosphere to his shock, so his brow furrows like he doesn’t understand. “I- I will sacrifice myself for you.”

His face falls and you can’t bear the way his words stutter and his throat fills with a choked cry, as though he’d held it in as soon as your presence had hit him. It must have done the same to you because your body befalls you and tears and on the floor as you work your feet towards where he is rooted.

“I can’t ask that of you. You know I can’t do that,” he closes his eyes when your body meets his, hands firm on his cheeks because they’re wet with tears and his shoulders are hunched in pain, “please.”

“Please.” You reciprocate.

This is it for you. You’ll do anything for this quivering shell in front of you. You’ll plead. You’ll beg. You’ll give up your livelihood and every mantra you have ever told yourself about self-preservation because fuck it, some things are too good that you have to lose yourself in them.

“You- I-”

“I’m- I might not be ready for kids now. I will though. If that’s what it takes. Fuck it I’ll marry you tomorrow.”

He chokes on a sob when his eyes meet your pleading ones and a quick hand wipes the stains from his cheeks so he can see every expression you give to him - untainted and full of love.

“We can take our time over this or we can have it all at once, but it has to be we. I’ll really do it for you, I have to Tae,” another sob and a whimper, “isn’t that what we’re here for. Kids.” You’re babbling now in a frenzied expression of all you have to give, and you’re so lost in his eyes that you laugh out, “‘be fruitiful and multiply or some shit.’ I’ll do it, I swear to you.”

“You’re not even Christian.”

“I would be if you told me to.”

“Fuck.”

He kisses you quick and without care, wanting to feel everything you have to give him like it’s what keeps his heart beating - and it’s beating fast because you finally find fingertips under his shirt and against the pounding that intensifies underneath.

He grapples at your hair, then waist, then hair again because his hands can’t decide on what he wants most. So you grab at them yourself and intertwine fingers as though he’d never left you. Each knuckle deserves a kiss and that’s what you give when your lips part.

“I’m so sorry-” you keep kissing across his hand, “I ever left,” and bring his hands to your neck, “never again.”

The tears subside in his eyes as they do yours. There is still relief, hot and painful inside your stomach because you have come back to him and he has taken you back, as if there were never to be anything but the two of you as one, yet now he finds your lips in something that claims more than just love. Possession. He has to know you’re his.

You were correct when you thought his room would be as sorrowful as yours - heartache as painful as what you had felt.

Food containers stripe the floor dirty. Towels strewn and clothes dirty and forgotten. Again the blinds are closed as though you’re not here at 5 in the afternoon when the sun begins to fall into the red and purple hues of evening.

But the blinds leave enough of a gap that his face is haloed, angelic and all too beautiful for your eyes to feign staring when your mouth departs his. Eyes glow amber and skin glows golden and you never want to look away, not from him, not now.

“You really want this don’t you.” There’s no question to the way Tae speaks. Instead, it’s disbelieving, like he can’t quite fathom that it’s really your shirt he has under his fingertips and your smell that lingers under his nose. Heartbreak had slowed his heart enough that it’s beating too fast for him to keep up with, so he slows it down.

“I really want this- You. I really want you.”

“And everything that comes with me? You’re sure?”

It’s a loaded question but at this point it is so light on your shoulders you laugh, grabbing and pulling up his shirt so you can sink lips to his chest, trying to find the beat of a heart somewhere there.

“You act like you’re a chore, Tae.” You’re eyes soften when he still looks like you like he’s young and vulnerable. “Baby, I am so sorry I ever did this to you. Left. And made you feel like that.”

Your hands map his skin delicately and you preserve how it feels because you hope, but never know, if you’ll feel it again.

“Never again, yeh?”

“Yeah.”

Clothes are shed until he looks at your naked body like the art that he first saw it as. He wants to paint it, remember it and cherish it as though he’s never seen it before. Every scar and blemish, precious to his vision, but the painting would only be worth it to him because he’s all who gets to see you.

“You’re not gonna turn off the lights?”

Something that you’d told him was a habit of yours. Maybe something, a subconscious body image thing that was another way of saying, ‘I can’t give my whole self to you, I’m sorry’. He’d ran with it as though it didn’t hurt his pride. But now, as you push him down on his bed and clamber over his thighs, he’s so grateful he never got to see you in this light, because he loves it all the more now.

Fingertips tremble over your thighs when your hips find his, naked crotch so close to where he throbs.

“Tae,” his eyes don’t meet yours, pieced, instead, onto where your bodies are so close to meeting like his gaze can fuse them together. “Tae, it’s me. Relax.”

Purposefully, your hands find his hair and coax him into a state of submissiveness, because his body still quaked underneath you no matter the words you uttered.

You can’t lie when you say sex was a factor in your relationship you had missed. There was a heartfelt bond that went deeper than sex.

Admittedly the flatmate before Tae, the friends before the boyfriend and your parents who knew you better than you admitted to yourself had all said you were sex before substance. Some hated you for it and some laughed. Some said, ‘I wish I could be as emotionally detached as you’ and some thought you were the local gal whoring about like bodies were meant to be used. Then, somehow, Tae flipped the whole thing on its head. Made you feel butterflies before orgasm and it had you spellbound.

So, no. Sex wasn’t it for you when you were with him.

Yet, here you were, over your man gleaming with the physical sweat of want and need as well as the even more apparent glow of how his body lit up for only you.

“How do you want me Tae, what can I give you?”

“Fuck.” His hands fall over his eyes, not comprehending that you’re his and you’re this plaint. No, he wants you to take over him. “Anything, baby. Fuck. Anything.”

Instantly nails brush over the hardness that had been laid out under your folds obediently since you’d found yourself on top of his crotch.

A man could only control himself so much and immediately Tae found his dick twitching and his hips leaving the mattress in favour of chasing your hand.

“Y/N, I really don’t know if I’ve got it in me for teasing, I’m so horny I could cum!”

Well then.

The outburst has you struggling to fight off a laugh because he seriously is that desperate. Not the laughing kind either. The all-bearing, stripped clean and pleading kind of desperate.

So, you sympathise and let your lips find his, hand still trailing lightly so he doesn’t cum early, but enough for the need to remain.

“You wanna be inside me Tae?” His tongue is on yours yet the words are clear.

“Urgh, fuck, please.”

Your eyes peer between your bodies, mapping where his muscles, tight with restrictions, create a V-shape down to the very distinct outline of a red hard cock. You think it’s photograph worthy in the moment, something worth slipping the camera out for, and if you hadn’t kept his dick pics from months ago maybe you would. But:

“Please baby, -need it.”

You deny yourself the simple pleasure of slipping him in because Tae whining and pleading is something worthy for the spank bank. You drop lower down the bed so his hips meet your eyes and the skin glistens so beautifully in this light you have to leave his dick untouched just so you can kiss around the area.

His stomach, thighs, crotch, they see it all, lips and tongue mapping bold strokes because he tastes just as you remember and you want to savour it.

“Y/N ple- oh fuck,” and the taste of his dick beats anything that preceded it, let alone the noise that came with it.

His tip is taken care of first, small licks and stripes with your tongue, so he’s unsuspecting when you choke him whole.

“FUCK.”

Hands grab your hair violently. He’s deep and hits the back of your throat so you choke, unashamed of the noise. You’re past that and you know he likes it anyways.

You set a rhythm, and it soon becomes clear he’s going to cum from it and that you very much want him to. Your hand finds his balls to fuel the process and the other one snakes to your core because there’s nothing that beats Tae’s moans when he’s getting a good sucking.

“I- Fuck Y/N, I can’t- Shit!”

He’s close. Stomach seizing and balls throbbing in your palm so you sink back down again and take the choke like you want it and you want his cum more. It’s fast from there.

“Love you. I’m cum- Fuckkkkk,” salt and warmth line your throat, but only for a short while because he came quick. His hips stutter a few times and your eyes water when you continue to take it.

Then it’s cold and silent. Yet somehow you feel buzzed. Like someone cumming down your throat was enjoyable. Like you’d do it a thousand times over if it meant he’d say he loved you again.

The hands that had once set deep into your scalp and verged on making you horny now pulled at your cheeks to lift you to eye level.

He’s sweaty and a mess.

“You’re sweaty and a mess baby.”

His laugh is unfiltered, wholesome and worthy of the way your heart stutters.

“Because someone’s got a mouth on them sent from the gods.”

Blush overtakes your cheeks, whilst your stomach tumbles over at the fact that your blowjob skills are up to scratch - you thought a month off might have done something to your ability but clearly, you’re still on point. The bitter taste in your mouth tells you enough.

“What’ve I done to deserve you coming back.”

Sincerity returns into his eyes as well as his words, and somehow you feel his dick twitch again from underneath you. He’s so soft under your hands so you keep feeling at his skin to reassure you he’s real.

“Nothing. You’re enough. You’re it.”

You kiss and kiss again, keep going until the fire ignites in him once more where it still flamed for you.

“Please.”

His voice is low no matter how much he whines so a guiding hand slips him into where you’re filthily wet. And he’s huge despite seed already spilt. He’s loaded like it was meant for you and not your mouth, throbbing enough so your pussy can feel it.

And suddenly you realise it’s bare. Complete bare. As in, bare enough that you are willing to take on a child kind of bare.

His eyes tell the story when yours find his, wide and curious. They roll back into whites when you pull up fully and then sink back down, milking him for all he has so he knows this is your full intention. Naked in every sense.

“Shit, Tae.”

“Fuckkkkk,” he doesn’t swear often, but sex is a must and the quirk of your lips tells him just how much you like him losing himself in pleasure.

He hits deep from here, cock lodged far in and even further when he begins to take control.

His feet plant and his hands pull you down so skin flushes to skin and he can pump up into you with unadulterated need.

Your teeth have to clamp onto his shoulder with the way he hits your cervix, it’s uncomfortable yet you love it. That kind of sex where everything is so fulfilling that you just can’t mutter ‘stop’. How could you say such a thing anyway when he’s groaning that he loves you with every upbeat.

It hits good once. Twice.

“Tae, fuck. There.”

Three times.

“Here?”

Again.

“Oh my fuc- Fuckkk,” and there’s nothing you can do when you’re so stimulated you tumble deep and hard onto him and continue to do over and over in waves.

He’s finding his end in the way your pussy grips him.

“Baby. Y/N, Cunt so good, jesus.”

You’re burning when he’s going so fast the headboard bangs louder than your moans. So your hand quickly finds his balls underneath you and that does him, unravels him to the point he quakes.

“Holy- Love you. Love you. Fuck. Love you.”

Your ears might ring but that’s all you hear for the next minute. His mantra that keeps his lust alive until his love is so set in stone the words are not needed.

Your hand, winding into his hair and the thrum of your heart against his tells him enough.

It’s this. Silence and tranquillity yet with the constant buzz of electricity all around you.

You’re still there entangled, limbs on limbs and lights touches on bare skin as the slither of light through the blinds turns ruby red in the heat of sunset.

You know his eyes must glow golden from where the sun angles on his face so you can’t help but spare a glance. And you’re right when you imagined it as beautiful because the sun bathes him like it was meant to.

He’s still awake because his eyes flutter when you trail the outside of your fingers down his cheek and then onto his lips. It’s even more apparent when he brings his hand up to yours so he can kiss each knuckle individually.

“You came inside.”

It weighed heavy on you, the obvious factor that had happened earlier. And before allowing the beauty of the moment to settle in you had to see his expression when you mentioned it.

Yet there’s nothing but closed eyes and the slight smile that had been painted on his lips since you’d told him how much you wanted him.

“Mmm.”

“And you’re okay with that?” It’s not harsh, just a question from you. A security query because you have to know what this was for him. Caught up in the moment or something deeper?

His eyes bolt open at the question though.

“Are you?”

You almost have to think. Almost.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“And so am I.”

#bts smut #taehyung #bts taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #taehyung smut #bts taehyung smut #bts v #bts v smut #v smut #kim taehyung #kim taehyung smut #jungkook smut #taehyung one shot #bts one shot #taehyung things

513 notes · View notes

rogerina-yee-haw · 6 years ago

Text

“at least I’m one”

chapter 3: “- the broken rules and true affection”

sd!gwilym lee x reader

[the goodbye] [the sadness & tenderness]

summary: you and gwil met ten months ago; and he offered you to be his sugar baby almost immediately. you agreed at that exact moment, not knowing where it would get you.

warnings: badly written smut (again) sorry y’all; angst, fluff, cursing, cringy behavior, author’s spelling and grammar errors, typos

a/n: hey y’all ily!!! thanks for waiting!! i love you all!! I’m sorry it took me so long!! I’m dying at uni!!

also, I wanted to thank you for 350+ followers like??? how did it happen?? I don’t deserve all of your pretty souls?? but seriously, you all are amazing and wonderful, and I hope you have a beautiful day <3

I :) hope :) this :) chapter :) isn’t :) a :) complete :) piece :) of :) garbage :) (it is imao sorry)

P.S.

there are three chapters left.

As you follow your parents through the long and silent corridors of the hospital, you can surely say that you feel much better.

Becca gave birth to a beautiful baby boy; and you have never seen her happier. She and Jackson looked so felicitous with their newborn in Becca’s arms, that you couldn’t but shed a tear. For the first time during this day it wasn’t a sad cry; you were really happy.

Your sister needed rest after the tough night of labor; so you and your parents decided it would be better for you to leave. And now you are going home, back to your apartment, April and sorrows.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?” your mum lightly touches your hand; you give her a fake smile in response. You can’t tell her the truth; and was there ever even a slight bit of truth about you and Gwil? Everything your parents know about this relationship is built on lies. You can’t tell her that you fell in love with your sugar daddy but he proposed to another sugar baby, and that’s why you’re heartbroken. You simply can’t.

“Just tired”, you smile weakly. “Can’t even imagine how Becca’s still able to talk and, y’know; behave as a normal human being after having such an experience”. Your mum lets out a laugh.

“Becca is strong. And she likes being the center of attention, so her desire to talk is quite understandable”.

“Put it this way, love”, your father joins the conversation, “Becca just wants everyone to praise her. That’s her character”.

“She deserves that praise”, you say.

Your father smiles. “Of course she does. She’s a hero”.

When your parents offer to give you a ride, you refuse, saying Janet is supposed to pick you up; you lie, once again. You’re not ashamed of yourself – you wouldn’t survive if you never lied. That’s just another deception. Just another delusion for your parents and you to believe in.

No one’s here to pick you up. Janet is probably having fun at that party, Billy’s sleeping, and Gwil… You sigh deeply. You just can’t continue doing it to yourself anymore. One more thought about Gwilym, one more memory – and you’re sure you’ll jump off of some building. You won’t make it through the night if you continue thinking about him.

He’s gone. He’s engaged to Alice. He’s not yours. He has never been yours. That’s all that you have to know for moving on. But you simply don’t know how; Gwil has been a part of your life for ten months, you can’t just move on. That’s not possible.

When you get into the cab, you’re on the verge of crying again; all the bliss, given by Becca’s baby boy, is gone. You look through the car window – the streets of London are full of people on this Friday night. All of them are having fun, laughing and just enjoying themselves; and even if they have some troubles in their life, they simply forget about them while drinking tons of alcohol. If you do the same thing, you’d end up on Gwilym’s doorstep. You know that for sure.

Almost twenty minutes later you come back home; it’s silent there, as usual. You don’t even turn the lights on – you don’t want to see what kind of mess your flat is now. “Probably as messy as I am”, you think when you sit down on the couch.

On the floor, right in front of you, there is a bag. The bag. You take a deep breath before reaching your hand to it; you have to look through the stuff you took from Gwil’s apartment. You had to do that to cope with your feelings, to try to move on. You can’t let yourself drown in your sorrows, not being able to throw away everything related to him. You need to get rid of the memories. You have to do that just in case. Just to realize if the pain is still that strong.

The red flannel shirt is the first thing that you put out of the bag.

And you can’t even comprehend how much pain it causes you. It makes your chest ache, and you feel like your heart is going to explode.

And there you have enough of your weak attempts in moving on.

You burst into tears, squeezing the shirt in your hands; it still smells like him. Because it’s his, it’s his shirt. The one he says he hates so much, that he didn’t even protest when you borrowed it. The memories of this day are still fresh, and you let yourself drown in them, you give in. You can’t fight, you’re not that powerful. You can’t move on, you’re not that strong to do this. You want to drown in your sorrows, because it’s the only way to be with him now.

Still crying, you put the shirt over your shoulders. “Looks good on you”, Gwil used to say when you wore it. “It was a lie”, you whisper while curling up on the couch; you keep sobbing and wrapping the shirt around yourself. “Another lie to play with me”, you say under your breath, tears still streaming down your cheeks when you doze off. Your sleep isn’t peaceful; you dream about Gwilym, again and again.

╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

September.

“So you agree?”

You looked into the contract one more time; you furrowed your brows just to seem focused. To be honest, you’ve lost the ability to concentrate the moment you saw Gwil inside of the restaurant. He looked like the fucking Adonis in his dark-grey three-piece suit, and you couldn’t get the image of him roughly lifting you up from your seat and fucking you right on this table till you see the stars. You kept reminding yourself that it wasn’t right, that you just met him seven hours ago. You had no idea who he was until he approached you in that posh shop.

At one point you started doubting whether you needed that or not; but then you realized one simple thing. This beautiful, heavenly looking man was offering you the life you could never afford. Alright, maybe if you worked yourself to death – maybe then you could afford buying expensive clothes and jewelry. Also being alone for a year and a half had its own influence – and by that you certainly meant a badly hidden desire to have sex with Gwilym right there and then.

You sighed deeply, as you looked through the rules. They weren’t bad; as they weren’t, by no means, crossing any lines in any way. They were normal. They were adequate. You couldn’t ask for more. That was your chance to get free cash and hook up with a pretty dude. You couldn’t miss such an opportunity.

“I do”.

╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

rule №7. no contact with each other’s families and friends.

March.

“Someone get this goddamn door!”

Your mother’s scream was able to bring dead back to life; but now it only made you realize that you might lose your hearing, if she shouted like that one more time.

“Haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?” Billy seemed to notice the way you winced when you heard your mother’s loud voice; and that’s why he decided to proclaim the song’s lyrics right into your ear. It made you growl, and you turned around to hit him on the shoulder.

“Idiot!” you said. “Go get the door”.

“I’m too busy to do that”.

You raised your eyebrows at him in disbelief; Billy was just messing around while his mother and you were helping your mum with preparing food and guests. Your dad and Becca with Jackson were of great help, too; everyone was doing something except for this dumbass. He grinned widely, seeing your frustration. “Besides, t’s not my house. I’m not allowed to open doors and, y’know, behave wildly”.

“Swift, for fuck’s sake, you’ve spent more time in this house than anywhere else”, you sighed. “And you certainly opened the doors for, like, million times”.

“But-“

“Billy!” his mother stormed into the kitchen “Stop wandering around and go get the door!” she took the bowl with fruits into her hands. “Or I’ll make you chat with Zelda!” she added before heading to the dining room. Billy’s eyes widened and he seemed to start trembling the second he heard your aunt’s name; so he left the kitchen immediately. You chuckled; this day was already a piece of work. Every time such a big family gathering happened, you knew that something would eventually be fucked up. Today was no exception, as it was your mother’s fiftieth birthday.

She wanted to have both her sisters, three best friends with their children and, of course, her own family present at such an important event. Three best friends included Mrs. Swift with her dumbass of a son Billy, Mrs. Johnson, and Mrs. Raymonds with her daughter Alexis and son James.

James had been a pain in your ass today since the moment he entered the house. You expected to successfully avoid talking to him, but it seemed as if he wanted to speak to you more than anything. You couldn’t really understand why. You hadn’t communicated properly for four years, right since your breakup, and you didn’t really want to; firstly, because before you were too invested in your relationship and split with Luke, and now because of Gwilym.

You closed your eyes and let out a sigh. How you wished to have Gwil here now; you knew that with him everything would be so much better. And, moreover, if Gwil was here, James wouldn’t be bothering you. You couldn’t tell him to fuck off; you were too nice for that. Besides, you didn’t want to ruin the “normal” relationship that you two had – if it was possible to call it like that.

He was not only your childhood friend, but your ex, your first kiss, your first sex and your first heartbreak. Every “first” that happened to you was connected to James; and no matter how much thankful you were to him for giving you a necessary experience, you couldn’t but regret your decision to date your mum’s best friend’s son at the age of fourteen. If you never saw him again, everything would be so much easier. All just because he was awfully clingy and tedious; it seemed as if he had never grown up and was still stuck in high school. And he was an idiot in high school.

“You need help?” As your back was facing the kitchen’s entrance, you couldn’t miss the opportunity to roll your eyes when you heard James’s voice. It took you everything not to tell him to fuck off, as you put a fake smile on your face and turned around to see him standing near the fridge. A couple of steps more – and he would be right in front of you. Disgusting.”No; but thank you for the offer, James”.

“Oh, Y/N”, he smiled and moved a bit forward; your fists tightened and you clenched your jaw, still smiling. “You’re always welcome”.

Please, dear God. Save me from this monstrosity.

Billy was humming the song about the poor groom and his whore-bride as he approached the door; he was happy enough to avoid talking to aunt Zelda for a while. She was the most annoying person he had ever met, and she also hated him to death; so opening the door was quite a good opportunity.

A tall dude in a suit with bouquet of flowers on Y/L/N’s house’s doorstep surprised Billy; as he was 5’6” himself, everyone taller than that seemed like a giant to him. And this really handsome pal was certainly intimidating. “You alright, mate?” Billy examined him from heat to foot; the suit was totally expensive and the man himself looked like a fucking duke.

“Is Y/N here?” his voice was deep and a bit husky; Billy furrowed his brows – he had no idea you were aquianted with someone from the Royal Family.

“Y/N!” he screamed. “That’s for you!”

When James was almost standing near you, Billy’s voice saved your day. “Thank God!” you shouted in response and flew out of the kitchen; no matter who was there, you were happy enough it happened. You saw Billy standing in front of the open door; leaning to the doorway, that was leading from the hall to the living room, you let out a sigh of relief. You didn’t even see who was at the door; and at the moment you didn’t care, as you stood there, panting, with your eyes closed.

“Fucking James”, you breathed. “I hate this fucking wanker so much, you don’t even know, Billy”.

“Oh no, I do, trust me, Y/L/N. ‘Cause I hate him more”.

“If I hear his fucking voice one more time, I swear-“

“Who’s James?”

You couldn’t believe it; did the voice that you heard belong to Gwilym? Your eyes went round; and when you finally saw him, standing on your parents’ house’s doorstep, your eyes lit up and your mouth curved into a smile. He was there.

“Gwil”, you mouthed. He beamed, and his whole face lit up when he saw you. Or maybe it just seemed to you that it did.

“Y/N”, he said, “hey”.

“I’m Billy!” he chimed in, resting his chin on your shoulder; your smile faded as your rolled your eyes at him.

“Swift, go to the kitchen and help our mums”, you said quickly. He huffed.

“And talk to Raymonds? No, thank you.”

As you kept maintaining eye contact with Gwil, you couldn’t but close your eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Billy”, you said through gritted teeth, “go and help our mums”.

“Y/L/N-“

“Billy!” you turned around; if it was possible to burn someone down with just one simple gaze, Billy would have been dead already. “Go and do it, while I’m asking you nicely!” you pinched his shoulder so strongly, that he jumped and let out a squeak.

“Alright!” he raised his hands. “I’ll do anything if you stop hitting and pinching me. Bloody woman”, he mumbled, while leaving.

“Sorry about him”, you looked back at Gwil; he was still smiling at you. “He’s just twelve, really”.

“Is that your best friend you told me about?”

“Yeah”. Only then you noticed he was holding a bouquet of lilies.

“That’s my mum’s favourite flowers”, you said quietly. “How’d you know?”

His gaze was fixed on your face; and you couldn’t but look away because you felt extremely flustered.

“You said it once. I remembered”.

You melted like an ice-cream under the scorching sun. He remembered that? It took your father twenty-seven years of marriage to memorize his wife’s favorite flowers, and here was Gwil – remembering about it for some time. You didn’t even know how to react.

But then you realized one thing. He was not supposed to be here. He was your sugar daddy; and one of the rules was not to have any contact with each other’s families of friends. What exactly was he doing here?

“What are you doing here?” you asked. “You said you gonna have a business trip”.

He smiled. “I deferred it to the next weekend. Couldn’t leave my girl alone with her, as she says that, crazy family”.

My girl. Of course, you heard him say that million times; but something was different now, you could feel it in your bones.

You smiled like an idiot, while he was taking off his coat; he beamed at you back, and there you were – two grinning idiots, who stood in your parents’ house’s hallway. That was so much you wanted to tell him; how thankful you were that he came, but mostly you wanted to kiss him softly and whisper “I love you” in between kisses.

“You’re gonna regret it”, you say instead. “They’re embarrassing”.

He chuckled and took your hand; Gwil pressed a sweet kiss to your knuckles. “I will never regret a minute spent with you. Even if your family is embarrassing”. He pulled you closer, and you were perfectly safe and sound in his arms. The flowers, lying on the little sofa in the hallway, were long forgotten, as well as guests, food and the world. Gwil was warm and lovely, and you closed your eyes, resting your head in the crook of his neck. You would stay like this forever. You didn’t need anything, anyone else, but him, just him, only him. You had no idea why he was there, when he could be somewhere else, with another sugar baby, having sex and buying jewelry. But he was there, with you.

“You are stunning”, he whispered in your ear. “Red looks good on you”. You let out a chuckle against his neck. God, that was so silly.

“You bought me this dress, after all”, you answered quietly. Gwil hummed in response and kissed your hair; you pulled away from his neck, catching him staring at you in awe. You lost yourself in his blue eyes, lost yourself forever in his mesmeric gaze. Was this love? For you, yeah. For you, it was everything you ever wanted – it seemed that Gwilym walked into your life in that dark-blue suit at the end of the September right from your dreams. You didn’t even know when exactly you fell in love with him – but you knew it was more than just a simple arrangement now. At least for you.

“It’s not the point, baby”, his fingers traced different shapes on your back and Gwil could certainly feel you shivering under the dress. “You look good in everything”. He pressed a kiss on your forehead, and you both smiled. It was perfect.

“You must be the mysterious guy Y/N always talks about!” You let out a squeak and jumped back from Gwilym in an instant; your sister was leaning onto the doorframe and grinning impishly. You pressed a hand to your chest and cursed under your breath. “I’m Becca, her elder sister”, her and Gwil shook hands and you couldn’t but roll your eyes; Becca was up to something. You didn’t like the thought of it; any idea of your sister always turned out to be a disaster.

You all walked in the dining-room; and the whole place went from a loud chat to complete silence. Aunt Zelda, as you noticed, was examining Gwil thoroughly. You furrowed your brows and rolled your eyes; your aunt was evidently interested in a good-looking man who just walked in with you. You let out an exasperated sigh and rolled your eyes once again, this time thinking that they may just stay inside of your head if you do that one more time. You saw Billy barely holding back his hysterical laugh, when you sat down at the table; you stopped yourself from slapping your forehead and throwing something at Swift. Your attention was drawn to Becca and Jackson as they were having whispered conversation, while looking at you and Gwil. James looked confused, when you gave him a brief look; his opinion was the last one you were interested in. You were so invested in observing everyone’s reaction that you missed the main one – your mum’s.

“….boyfriend?”

You frowned hearing the scraps of the conversation; you turned your head and caught your mum and dad talking to Gwilym. You looked at them, being disoriented, as you heard him saying that. “Yes, I am. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend”.

You tilted your head, still furrowing your brows. Boyfriend?

“I’m Y/N’s boyfriend”, for fuck’s sake, what?

“Holy shit”, you almost mumbled, still staying bewildered; he didn’t just say what he said, did he?

Boyfriend? No. He was not your boyfriend. He was the exact opposite. He bought you expensive shit and fucked you into oblivion. He was your sugar daddy. He was providing you with money and taking you to luxurious resorts to spend the weekend there. He made an arrangement, came up with rules for both of you to follow. He had other women as his sugar babies, whom he fucked too. He was a boss in the huge ass company. He was a literal Disney Prince. He was this, and not your boyfriend.

But he took care of you when you were terribly sick after your romantic getaway in Aspen. He held you tightly when you were crying. He cuddled you until you fell asleep in his arms, both of you beaming. He praised every part of your body. He wrote you cute letters every day, saying how much he adored you. He told you he was proud of you when you got a promotion. He made you a bubble bath with candles lit around and sweet music playing on the background. He did facemasks with you while watching your favorite shows. He told you he didn’t want to let you go. He made you feel valued and protected, for the first time after two failed relationships. He made you feel as if it wasn’t just an arrangement. He made you feel like he loved you.

Your heart skipped a beat at this thought. Loved you? No, that was ridiculous. Gwilym couldn’t love you; he could love Alice, a small pretty thing with her piercing gaze and gracious movements; or his other sugar baby, Zoe, with her husky voice and plump lips. He could love someone much more skinnier than you, someone not that tall, and someone not that awkward. He was way out of your league; and still, somehow, he was there, at your family’s gathering, talking to your relatives and resting his hand on your thigh. He was there, with you, not anywhere else. He was there.

You exchanged glances, smiled at each other; throughout the whole evening he never stopped whispering into your ear about how beautifully you looked. He held your hand and kissed it, when there was an opportunity. Gwil was talking to your dad about science and business, like your father had a clue about any of those things; he even chatted with Billy for a moment, which made you smile lightly. It seemed to you that every time he looked at you, his eyes lit up. And for a moment you knew - he was yours. Only yours.

╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

rule №2. accept every gift that is given.

February.

It was so good.

The sound of Gwil’s skin clapping against yours, the way he gripped your hips and sucked on the skin in the crook of your neck made you arch your back, your breasts pressing into his chest. He growled, and it sent shivers down your spine. His thrusts were now faster, as he was as close as you.

“You like it like that, right, baby?”

You were clinging onto him as if it was the matter of life and death; and it was, indeed. He was giving you what you needed. Finally. “Yes, daddy”, you mouthed. “I’m so close”, you were breathing hard and saying these words wasn’t very easy as well; but it was what he wanted – you spoke. Gwil thrusted into you harshly, burying himself inside of you so deeply that you could only scream his name in pleasure. It seemed that you both had forgotten about the little game you played. You were more than happy to realize that; even though you were terribly wrong about Gwilym.

He started moving slower in you and then pulled out; your eyes were wide open the second he did that. What the actual fuck?

You rose on your elbows; your brows drew together as you watched this asshole slyly grin. “You said…” you were panting. “You said…you…”

“That I’ll let you cum in the bedroom?” he replied. “That’s true”, he shrugged his shoulders. “But you didn’t catch one little thing, love”, Gwil was hovering over you again. “By that I meant master bedroom. And this”, he pressed a kiss on your lips, “This is certainly not the master bedroom”.

You looked at him with wide eyes and sighed loudly. In a master bedroom? “There are seven bedrooms in this house”, you mumbled, when you head fell back onto the pillows. He was kidding, right? He didn’t let you cum neither in the kitchen nor in the living room, and promised you’d come in the bedroom – but now, turned out that he was just messing with you? You covered your eyes with your hand and sighed deeply. This was going to be a long ride; and with Gwil’s desire to edge you until you were begging and telling him exactly what he wanted – you knew you would be exhausted as fuck.

“This can end very quickly, y’know it, love”, he hovered over you, you could feel it; your eyes were still closed and jaw clenched tightly. You didn’t want to give in. You didn’t start playing this game just to let him win in the end.

It wasn’t exactly a game, though. You were just rejecting his gift, and that’s all. The only thing was that not accepting the present was another violation of rules. And, also, that his gift was a fucking three-storied house. A freaking mansion with a huge garage, a back garden, and, like, fifty rooms. He just said, “It’s a simple gift, love”, and you jaw fell open at his words. Simple fucking gift; the one you never asked for. That was too much. Money, Cartier bracelets, diamond necklaces and designer clothes were great and amazing, but the house? You knew Gwil couldn’t get enough of spoiling, but he crossed the line here, even for a sugar daddy. Even for this type of relationship buying a house was too much.

But he, apparently, didn’t think so. He kept on insisting it didn’t mean anything, that he didn’t even spend that much money on it. Your blood was boiling, and you could feel your ass burning with anger.

Now your ass was burning too, but because of how much Gwil was spanking you. You were ready to come undone just cause of it, but this asshole didn’t let you. He wouldn’t let you come until you accepted the gift. And even though you really liked the house, you couldn’t just agree on his terms and take it. No. It was too much. Even for such a rich dude like Gwil.

“I just have to accept your gift and shut up, right?” you said through gritted teeth. Gwil furrowed his brows, and took your hand from your face. Your eyes were open as you were looking at him irritably.

“I never told you to shut up”, his tone was serious as he was staring you in the eyes. “And it’s not what I meant. You know that”. He sounded offended; you suddenly felt guilty about your behavior. You were acting like a bitch the second you saw the house, and said some stupid shit, like “I hate this fucking house". He shouldn’t have bought it, but you shouldn’t be a brat about it either. He did it not 'cause he wanted to buy you, no; he did it because that’s how he showed his affection. And it was part of your arrangement, part of then rules after all; he always sticked to them, unlike you.

“I do”, you cupped his face in your hands, looking at him softly. “I know that you don’t mean anything like that”, you pressed a lingering kiss to his lips. He kissed you back eagerly, putting his hands on your waist and pulling himself lower, closer to you. You both were naked, aroused and hungry for each other. You pulled away trying to catch your breath. “But I still can’t accept this gift, Gwil”.

Gwilym let out a loud groan as he rolled over to another side of the bed. “Why’s that, Y/N?” he tried to sound neutrally but you could feel irritation coming out of his whole body.

“Baby, I told you already”, you sighed tiredly. “The house’s too big, too expensive. I can’t accept it”.

“It’s a gift, love”, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You don’t have to think about its price”.

You rolled over to face him, but he wasn’t looking at you; he lied on his back, breathing heavily with eyes closed. Too annoyed to even speak to you. And even though he wouldn’t speak to you through his mouth, you knew through what he would certainly answer you. If he said “no” to it, you would never insist on keep going. You were both keeping each other comfortable, always.

He was still rock hard and you had to restrain yourself from moaning. He might have been a huge ass with the whole edging thing today, but you wanted him like crazy, always and constantly.

He let out a groan when you straddled him. You tried your best to keep a straight face, but you were so fucking wet that no facial expression could save you.Gwil felt that; thinking that you were insisting on continuation of the sex, he put his hands on your hips, trying to make you move; but you had other plans for him. You took his hands off of you and put them on his sides. “What will people say when they learn I’m living in such a big house?” you traced circles on his chest with your fingers; he drew in a long breath, gripping the sheets. “No one would believe I’m able to even rent it. I’m not really rich, baby”, you kept maintaining eye-contact; him inside of you and neither of you moving.

“Fuck them”, he whispered. He made you feel like a goddess just by looking at you that lovingly and hungrily. You moaned at the thought, and Gwil took this chance to putting his hands on your hips again. You raised an eyebrow and brushed his hands off. He didn’t let you cum. Now you were going to torture him for a little bit as well.

“No touching, Gwil. You can’t do that unless I say so”.

He licked his lips and grinned, surprised by your sudden dominance. He liked seeing you like this: confident and naked. Gwil’s favorite moods of yours.

“Shit, Y/N”, he grunted. “You feel amazing. So tight and beautiful”.

You gasped; Gwil was well aware of the effect his words had upon you, and he smiled, no, he fucking grinned, looking at you, almost twirling in ecstasy already.

The smug look on his face vanished when you started rocking your hips against him. Moving up and down his cock, you moaned and clung on his chest with your nails. He hissed, gripped the sheets tightly but never touched you. You rode him fast and needy, trying to reach your climax sooner than he noticed. “Feels so good”, you whined. Sweaty, greedy, whimpering, with head tilted back and nails digging in his chest – just the sight of you like this could make Gwil lose control. He wanted to thrust into you harshly, touch you everywhere, run his fingers through your hear and caress your face as you rode you both to orgasm – but he followed your rules. Not only 'cause he liked that, but also because he wanted to show you that obedience wasn’t too bad. Although he would certainly disagree with it right now, when he couldn’t even kiss you. “Touch me”, you breathed, needing his hands on you. God, you needed him in so many ways.

“Finally”.

He squeezed your breasts immediately; you moaning echoed in the room, making him even more turned on than he already was. Your walls clenched against him, and no matter how much he wanted to continue your little game, he wanted to fuck you properly more. He wanted to hear you screaming, wanted to see your face when you cum. God, he wanted all of you just to him.

You felt your orgasm coming in any moment, and you bit your lip to hold back moans, so that Gwil wouldn’t stop. But he didn’t even intend to. Not this time. “Come on, baby”, he whispered, caressing your sides, “come for me”.

Gwilym’s words made you lose it, lose all the power you thought you had. You fell onto him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, as he was fucking you now, hitting that exact spot inside you that drove you crazy. “Gwil”, you panted against his neck; and your hot breath sending shivers down his spine and making him thrust into you harder. “I’m gonna cum”, you said in an unsteady voice, while gripping his shoulders and digging your nails in there.

“Let go, baby”.

He let out a pure animalistic growl and suddenly flipped you over, so you were underneath him. He attacked your lips with his, giving you the most heated and loving kiss in your life. You wrapped your legs around his waist so that he could have a batter access to hit your g-spot; with your hands on his neck, you didn’t let him to break the kiss, deepening it, trying to fight for dominance. But dominance was his thing in bedroom.

He buried himself so deep inside of you that you two could only moan into each other’s mouths; you both reached your highs together, skin to skin, in unison, screaming one another’s names and grabbing the sheets. You both needed that.

Some minutes later, when you came down from your high Gwil left a delicate kiss on your forehead and got up; throwing the used condom into the trash, he turned around and saw you lying down with your hand covering your face. The blissful smile on your face and steady breathing told him that you were ready to nod off.

“Falling asleep on me, aren’t ya?” he lied down next to you; Gwil took your hand and pressed a kiss to it.

You took a deep breath. “Just give me a couple of minutes”, your reply was weak; Gwilym chuckled and smacked your ass playfully. You giggled and turned your face to him; you struggled to even open your eyes.

“Let’s get some sleep, love”, Gwil said quietly. He adjusted your pillows and put a blanket over the two of you; after he pulled your closer, your back on his chest, and his arms wrapped around you. He kissed you hair and you smiled sleepily.

“I still can’t accept your gift”, you continued your almost long-forgotten argument. Gwilym took in a deep breath and buried his face in your hair.

“I can’t argue with you anymore”, he mumbled, “I’ll accept any decision you make, Y/N”.

“Thank you”, you whispered. “But I love this house”, he chuckled at your words.

“I know. I did everything here like you love it. Just for you”.

You smiled lightly and hummed in response. “Wake me up in ten minutes”, you said leaning in closer to him. “I’ll be ready to continue till we get to the master bedroom”. Gwilym pressed a warm kiss to your shoulder.

“This is the master bedroom now”.

As you nodded off, feeling warm and safe in Gwil’s arms, you were beaming; when your mind was drowning in drowsiness, you felt a warm breath on your neck and heard Gwilym’s voice saying softly, “I love you so much, Y/N”. But you knew it was just a dream. Reality couldn’t give you something like this. Never.

╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

rule №6. no contact with other sugar babies.

December.

“When you’re gonna be home?”

You locked your phone after texting Gwil; you didn’t want to bother him, but it was Christmas Eve and you weren’t amused by spending it alone in his empty penthouse. He was called for work, and promised you to come back in three hours. The clock struck five in the evening. Gwil left at ten A.M.

You sighed deeply as you looked at the served table. You wanted to surprise him by cooking a festive dinner; it wasn’t like you were a chef, on the contrary – you couldn’t cook for shit. But, as you planned this thing, you googled some recipes and tried to cook something simple, but yet delicious. You had strange desire to be domestic with Gwilym – to cook food, do laundry, clean the house, and take kids from school… You didn’t even know when you first started imagining you two living a happy, suburban life in a pretty house with three children. Before Gwil you didn’t want kids. Now you were questioning all of your life choices. You were never able to have hook ups and not catch feelings. And this was certainly just a “hook up”, as you thought in the beggining. Only now it was much more.

“Soon, baby. I promise”.

His text gave you hope; his “soon” could be in ten minutes. You looked over the table in panic, quickly lighting candles. You ran to the nearest room; looking yourself up and down in the mirror, you twisted a ring on your index finger nervously. This green dress was exactly what Gwilym liked: it was tight, giving a perfect opportunity to observe all of your curves, and also very short. The color wasn’t exactly in the style of Christmas, but red lace lingerie underneath the dress was quite in the mood of the holiday. You knew Gwil would have gone crazy the second he came back home. He gave you so much during those months and you just wanted to get him a pleasant reward; and you were also head over heels for him. That was pretty simple.

Suddenly you heard heels clattering on the marble floor of the living room; you frowned, trying to understand who was there. Was Gwil wearing heels? You wouldn’t be surprised at that. Or was it Gwil’s sister again? Not that you didn’t like her, you just wanted him all to yourself tonight; even though you weren’t against spending time with his family.

“Heather?” you called while heading back to the living-room.

It wasn’t Heather.

It was a girl in a coat and high-heeled ankle boots; her eyes were gleaming in the dark as she was reading the note she took from Gwil’s plate.

“Unwrap your gift”, she said; she raised her head and looked at you haughtily. “Who are you?”

“And you?” you asked in confusion. “How did you come in?”

“The door’s was open”.

“No, it was not”.

You stared at each other, trying to burn yourselves with your glares; you had a strong feeling that it was one of Gwilym’s other two sugar babies.

“I assume you’re Y/N”, she sat down at the table, at Gwil’s place. “You got a nice dinner here”.

“Thanks”, you squeaked. You already felt helpless and hopeless in front of her; she was this black-haired goddess with a sly grin on her face. She was confident. You weren’t like that. “That’s actually…” you were speaking quietly. “That’s for Gwil”.

She huffed. “Of course, it is. I’m Alice, if you don’t know that”, it felt like you were supposed to know her name and whom she was. It seemed like she was the one who was supposed to be there. You suddenly felt really uncomfortable in her presence; her whole behavior was telling you to get out.

And here you were again. Feeling unnecessary, needless, unwanted.

“I’ve been with Gwil since I was twenty-three, like you are now”, she took a sip from the glass with champagne. “We’re having three-year anniversary this year”, she said with a smug smile.

“You sound like you’re dating”.

“We do”.

“No”.

The sound of his voice was something you craved for. It was like oxygen in the room with no windows and doors. It was like a light in the darkness.

“Daddy!” Alice jumped from her seat and beamed. Oh god, you already wanted to leave. She was looking at him so hungrily that you didn’t even know what you were doing there. You were an extra one. Unwanted. “You’re back! Y/N was just leaving”, she glared at you and raised her eyebrows, giving you a silent order. And you, with your zero self-esteem and very high level of shyness, obeyed.

“I’ve gotta go”, you muttered, heading to the door. Gwil, who stood not so far from you, immediately reached out and grabbed you by the wrist.

“Y/N, no. Please. Don’t go. Please”. He begged you to stay. Gwilym wanted you there, with him. You. Not Alice. The realization of it hit you suddenly, as you looked in his eyes.

You nodded, and he let go of your wrist, now intertwining his fingers with yours. “Alice is leaving”.

“Now, I’m not!” she tried to object, but Gwilym had none of her bullshit.

“You’re leaving. D’you remember what rule number five is about?”

Alice lowered her head and mumbled, “Never visit each other without calling beforehand”.

“Exactly. You broke it. Now you’re staying without your monthly supply. And getting the fuck out of my house”.

You could have sworn she muttered “Bitch” under her breath as she was passing by you. When she slammed the door, Gwil went to close it quickly; then he approached you and pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry it happened”, he whispered.

“T’s alright”. You were silent for a moment. “I made you dinner; was afraid she’s gonna eat it”.

Gwil laughed and pulled away, his gaze fixed on you; “Did ya, really?” he sounded surprised. You smiled and nodded; then you took his hand and leaded him to the table. “Wow”, he gasped. “You didn’t have to, Y/N”, your gazes met and you smiled at him one more time, your eyes sparkling like diamonds.

“I wanted to, Gwil”.

He pulled you in a desperate kiss; it seemed as if he tried to show his whole affection and gratitude through it. “Thank you, baby”, he whispered against your lips. “I don’t deserve you”.

You rolled your eyes, ruining the moment and walked to your seat at the other side of the table. “Don’t start this”, you said, sitting down. Gwil chuckled as he took his seat; some seconds later you caught him staring at you.

“What’s for dessert?”

You looked at him with raised eyebrow and a smirk on your face. “You will find out later”, you winked at him.

***

May.

“Y/N, stop apologizing. I’ve already told you everything’s alright”.

You couldn’t stop saying “Sorry” and nervously play with your hair the entire time you were sitting in your flat with Zoe; it was the first time you met each other and you were extremely anxious. She looked dazzling, like a star; she was smoking already a third cigarette in the last fifteen minutes.

“Alice’s the one who has to apologize, if to be honest”, she looked at you. “This bitch fed me with ugly lies about the sweetest person I’ve ever met”.

“Are you talking ‘bout me?”

“Absolutely”.

A small smile settled on your lips; Zoe was really sweet and nice, despite what you had been thinking about her. There was something charming, mysterious about her. You could certainly say why Gwil liked her, even if it broke your heart completely. “So, where were we?” Zoe asked.

“You were telling me about what Alice told you”.

“Oh right”, she nodded. “Alice has like a friend, a source in the company, where Gwil works. This “source” finds out everything about him, dunno how. This person told Alice about Gwil’s ex, Stefanie. I was fucking heartbroken after I heard that story”, she lit another cigarette.

“What’s about it?”

“Oh, Y/N, there’s so much. They were engaged, been together since school. Apparently, he loved her too much to notice that she started getting expensive jewelry and clothes. He believed every word she said, when she lied, telling she bought it herself. It turned out that she had three sugar daddies. And if he could forgive her just getting the money from them, he certainly couldn’t forgive her sleeping with all of them. It’s been like seven years since it happened and he’s still too eager to spoil us so much so that we wouldn’t even think about having someone else”.

You sat down on your couch, looking at Zoe in a state of complete shock. But she continued her story. “Gwil talks too much when he’s drunk; that’s how this source knows all of it”.

“You are his first sugar baby, right?”

Your question hung in the silence of the room. “Yeah. Been for four years”.

“And he never told you this?”

Zoe furrowed her brows and she took another drag. “No. We don’t talk about stuff like that. We usually just have some kind of small talk. He just gives me money-“

“In exchange for sex”, you interrupted her, voice thick with jealousy. Zoe chuckled.

“No. Not anymore at least”.

Your eyes widened at her words. “Why?”

Zoe shrugged her shoulders. “I dunno. He called it off several months ago, actually, with both me and Alice. He still gives us money, yeah, but nothing more than that. And if for the reason why – I think it’s ‘cause he’s just as in love with you as you’re with him”.

You gasped; you didn’t expect her to say something like that. You frowned and crossed your arms over your chest. “I don’t-“, you stuttered. “I’m not-“

“Yes, you are”, Zoe huffed. “Come on, Y/N, you know it’s true. He wouldn’t call off two opportunities to fuck whenever he wants just ‘cause he’s bored. No. There’s something more. He loves you, you dumb bitch”.

“He doesn’t, Zoe. He doesn’t and he never will”.

╰╮✾╭╯✯╰╮✾╭╯

You are awoken by a loud, non-stopping knocking on your door. You take in a sharp breath, struggling with getting up; your head is throbbing violently, as you stand up from the couch. It’s already dark outside; and you wonder how much time you have spent sleeping. Twelve hours? Fourteen? No matter how many of them – you are still sore, sad and hurt. Everything hurts so badly.

But you’re still wearing Gwil’s shirt. The feeling of its fabric on your skin makes you somehow feel better. Warmer. Makes feel a little bit alive.

The loud knocking proceeds as you walk towards the door. You think that it’s probably your mum coming to see you; you don’t answer your phone as you’ve been sleeping for so long.

When you open the door you expect to see a middle-aged woman with brown hair and angry voice, who’ll start lecturing you immediately as she always does. But your expectations are nothing compared to reality.

With red swollen eyes (like he’s been crying), messy hair and a backpack, which is slowly falling from his shoulder – that’s what he looks like standing at your doorstep. You don’t understand why he’s here, what he needs from you. You look at him as if he was a ghost, a phantom, a shadow, that will disappear at any moment. You can’t believe he’s here.

“Gwil?”

________________________________________________________________

wtf just happend am I right haha

“alio” taglist: @majesticdiscodeaky @heartsarecompatible @all-my-friends-are-german @magicwithaknife @longing-hiraeth @thelondondreamer5 @roger-taylors-drumsticks @runningoutofwordstosay @chlobo6 @you-and-i-deserve-the-world @queenficarchive @murydedeus03 @alis-volat-propriiis @deacycomics @hollandspcter @gwils-bitch @crazylittlethingcalleddub-step @painthatiusedto @kaylaylaylayla @rogerinastolemyheart @broken-pieces

191 notes · View notes